It was a decidedly unmanly shriek that woke me up. I flailed and the next thing I knew, I had struck the cold wooden floor.

“Ow.”

A bit dazed from my head hitting the floor, I shook it a little before sitting up. Arslop had backed up against the headboard as much as he could and was staring at me, mortified.

“Joan, you’re a woman?! Wait, that’s not important. Why am I in bed with you? Why are you in bed with me? Why are you shirtless? What happened last night? Oh Divine, don’t tell me we did—that?”

“What, chill, of course we-” then I remembered what happened last night and changed my tune. I sat up and covered my face, pretending to sob.

“Arslop, you’ve forgotten what we shared last night? How could you! You held me tightly all night long and now you’re telling me you’ve forgotten it all? You heartless monster!”

None of what I said was a lie. We shared drinks last night, technically, and he did hold me the entire night, albeit in a loose stranglehold. And I had earned the right to call him a heartless monster because he vomited all over me and tried to arrest me even after I’d lugged his ungrateful ass home. It wasn’t my fault if he took things the wrong way. (It totally was.)

My body shook with pre-emptive laughter, imaging all the panic and flailing that would definitely come. From an outside perspective, it would look as if I were crying my heart out. How to fake cry – Method 1: cover your face and laugh.

But further panic and flailing never came. I peeked out between my fingers. Arslop was now sitting upright and straight-backed, as cool and composed as the first time I saw him.

Damn, did he see through me already?

He got out of the bed and knelt in front of me, expression stern and reminding me why I’d thought he was scary when I first met him. I couldn’t help but lean back a little when he reached out.

Was he going to hit me? I maintained that after all the trouble I went to last night, a little revenge like this was justified, but if he didn’t remember, it would just seem like a mean-spirited prank and hitting me was justified.

Instead of doing that, he took my hands with a weird gentleness and held them in his, then gazed into my eyes with an even weirder earnestness.

I stared back blankly.

What the fuck is happening now?

None of the scenarios I’d run through last night had prepared me for this.

“Miss Joan,” he began, “I know I have done you a great wrong, and I do not deserve you. But my honour as a knight, as a man, bids that I take responsibility for my actions.”

It was at this point that klaxons began blaring in my brain.

“I swear that as long as I live, you will know no hardship. You will be taken care of and provided for, and I will make you happy.”

Abort mission! Abort mission! the alarms shrieked. Stop him right there! Shut him up and ‘fess up right now!

“You, Joan, will have me, Arslop, as your devoted husband.”

Too late.

The door opened with a loud bang! and Arsral shot up in bed.

“What the hell are you being so noisy so early in the morning for?” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes.

I grabbed his shoulders and shook him.

“Arsral, you have to help me! He’s not listening! No matter what I say, he refuses to believe me!”

Arsral, annoyed, grabbed my hands and took them off his shoulders.

“What are you talking about? Who’s not listening to you?”

“Your brother!”

“Wait,” Arsral said, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “so let me get this straight.”

The three brothers plus me had congregated in the kitchen/dining/living room. Arsral looked exasperated, Arswen confused, and Arslop aloof.

“The facts are – last night, Arslop got horrifically drunk.”

Arslop at least at the decency to look ashamed at that fact.

“Joan brought you home. Due to there not being adequate beds or rooms, you and Joan ended up sleeping in the same room. This morning, you two woke up in the same bed. And that is where the information we know for sure ends.”

He pointed at me.

“You claim that nothing happened between the two of you last night and you only insinuated that something did because you were mad at him.”

I nodded. He pointed at Arslop.

“You don’t remember last night and think that Joan’s denying it because she doesn’t want to inconvenience you or something.”

He nodded. Arsral sighed.

“And then you decided to ‘take responsibility’ by marrying her.”

“And I said that’s not necessary! Look,” I turned to Arslop, “I’m sure you’re a great catch and all, with your looks and your job, but I swear to god nothing happened between us last night.”

“Joan,” Arslop said, laying a hand on my shoulder. I would think he was finally coming around, except this had happened a dozen times already, and every time, he would say, “I swear on my honour as a knight that even once we are wed, I will not do anything to you against your wishes. So please, do not be afraid.”

This time was no exception. I wanted to scream.

I turned to Arsral. I could hear him muttering to himself, and the bits I caught…

“…but wait, if he has a wife, that means he’ll come home more often. He won’t listen to a brother, but if it’s a wife…”

…did not sound good for me. So much for him.

Arswen was my one and only remaining hope.

“…so Lop’ll come home more often? We barely even see him anymore, I miss him…”

Aaaaand there it goes. Poof. The light of hope has been snuffed out.

“Alright,” Arsral said. He sounded oddly cheerful. “I see what’s happened. Arslop, I believe you.”

Goddamnit.

I expected it, but it was still shocking.

“So you have to take responsibility,” he continued. “In fact!”

He wheeled out of the room.

“Let’s go to the church right now and make it official!”

Wait! Waitwaitwait! This is way too fast! I’ve never even had a crush before and now you want me to jump straight to marriage?!

But no one heard my protests and soon I was facing the end of my single life.

As I stood at the altar facing Arslop, I finally gave up.

Ah well. ‘Wife’ is just a title in this case anyway. I’ll just think of this as upgrade from ‘regular shop employee’ and not think too much of it.

Maybe I adapt to stupid situations too easily, but what can you do? I'm just the type of person to go with the flow.

And if the 'flow' in this case means getting married? Oh well.