Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9706154.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Ensemble_Stars!_(Video_Game)
  Relationship:
      Sena_Izumi/Tsukinaga_Leo, Sakuma_Rei/Itsuki_Shu, Kagehira_Mika/Narukami
      Arashi, Sena_Izumi/Narukami_Arashi, Isara_Mao/Sakuma_Ritsu, Sena_Izumi/
      Yuuki_Makoto_(Ensemble_Stars!), Narukami_Arashi/Tsukasa_Suou/Sena_Izumi/
      Sakuma_Ritsu, Sena_Izumi/Narukami_Arashi/Kagehira_Mika, Tenshouin_Eichi/
      Tsukinaga_Leo, Aoba_Tsumugi/Sakasaki_Natsume, Hibiki_Wataru/Tenshouin
      Eichi, Tenshouin_Eichi/Aoba_Tsumugi, Hasumi_Keito/Sakuma_Rei, Morisawa
      Chiaki/Shinkai_Kanata, Ambiguous_or_Implied_Relationship(s)
  Character:
      Sena_Izumi, Tsukinaga_Leo, Narukami_Arashi, Kagehira_Mika, Itsuki_Shu,
      Sakuma_Rei, Sakuma_Ritsu, Morisawa_Chiaki, Shinkai_Kanata, Sakasaki
      Natsume, Hibiki_Wataru, Aoba_Tsumugi, Tenshouin_Eichi, Shino_Hajime,
      Akehoshi_Subaru, Yuuki_Makoto, Suou_Tsukasa
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe, Alternate_Universe_-_Fantasy, Dubious_Consent,
      Character_Death, Foursome, Threesome_-_M/M/M, Polyamory, Soul_Bond,
      Prostitution
  Series:
      Part 1 of Fantasy_AU
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-02-14 Chapters: 59/59 Words: 383084
****** Alstromeria, Delphinium, Wisteria ******
by daphnerunning, Galiko
Summary
     "And at springtide, when the apple-blossoms brush the burnished bosom
     of the
     dove,
     Two young lovers lying in an orchard would have read the story of our
     love;
     Would have read the legend of my passion, known the bitter secret of
     my heart,
     Kissed as we have kissed, but never parted as we two are fated now to
     part.
     For the crimson flower of our life is eaten by the cankerworm of
     truth,
     And no hand can gather up the fallen withered petals of the rose of
     youth." --Oscar Wilde
     The Big Ol' Izuleo Fantasy AU.
Notes
     "Ah how shameless — the way these mortals blame the gods. From us
     alone they say come all their miseries, yes, but they themselves with
     their own reckless ways compound their pains beyond their proper
     share!"
     --Homer, "The Odyssey"
***** Chapter 1 *****
Life in the country is nothing like palace life proper, and Izumi, age eleven,
hates it, more than a little.
It’s hotter near the cluster of cities, first of all, which makes him miserable
every day of summer, regretting his desire to go and hone his talents.
Dedicating his spare time to finding every single waterhole takes up most of
his spare time, even when winter starts to come around, and he’s more content
with the changing of seasons.
He’s much more content when his mother delivers a birthday present, and seeking
out the one friend he’s made here to show it off is a necessity.
“Psst. Milord. Milord.”
It’s early and cold, and scaling the frigid, vine-covered trellis outside of
Leo’s window had seemed like a great idea at the time. Izumi’s regretting it a
bit now, his fingers cold even within his gloves. “Are you awake?” Hauling
himself unceremoniously into the bedroom window of his prince is improper, and
he’d be scolded to no end if anyone found out. Luckily, he’s careful and
sneaky, and no one would ever think the shy, doe-eyed squire from some country
province no one has heard of would ever be so presumptuous. Izumi knows how to
use that, even after only a year.
Leo starts, moving quickly to blow out his lantern, quill halfway to being
tucked safely into its case before he realizes that the word isn’t coming from
his door, but his window, and that it isn’t his nurse, but Izumi. Green eyes
(the symbol, with his red hair, of his royal lineage) widen, and he curses
under his breath, fumbling to light the lantern again. “Ahh, you’re here! Why
are you at the window? It’s cold, let me stoke the fire higher.”
“No, no, don’t bother.” Izumi hauls himself onto the windowsill proper, his
eyes bright. For all the cold, he’s dressed rather lightly save for the fluffy,
handwoven scarf tucked into his coat, his long, silver hair tied back from his
face. “You should get dressed and come out with me, Milord. I have something to
show you.”
Leo’s moving before Izumi finishes talking, grabbing a cloak from the floor
where it’s stuffed to block the servants from seeing the light from his
lantern. Once he yanks the cloak on and steps closer to the window, he sees the
ink smudges on his fingers, now on the lapels of his fine deerskin cloak, and
grimaces. Ah, well, he can always “lose” this one, too. “I’m dressed enough.
Let’s go before they come check on me.”
Izumi beams with success, and he slides right down out of the window, his feet
catching comfortable footholds in the trellis. “Be careful climbing down in
that, you might trip,” he warns, hopping down the last meter to land in the
crunchy snow. “Do you need me to catch you, Milord?”
Leo skips the footholds entirely, dropping down to hang from his window by one
hand, then dropping the long distance to the ground, rolling on one shoulder
and coming up with a jump, dusting himself off with a grin. “Not my first time.
Where are we going?”
It’s always a relief when Leo isn’t a delicate, prissy noble like the rest of
them. If anything, he usually feels like the prissy one around Leo. “The
stables.” Izumi hesitates, then gives into the urge to boldly grab Leo’s hand
to pull him along. “My mother sent me a birthday present.”
“Your Mama?” Leo asks enthusiastically. He’s pestered Izumi for stories about
the lovely, mysterious woman that had visited once before, who’d always seemed
so kind she wasn’t like a real mother at all. “Is she in town?”
“No, she couldn’t come.” He’s not going to tear up about his mother not being
around, he’s not, not when he’s trying to be very cool about stealing a prince
away from his bedchambers. “That’s why she sent me such an amazing present.”
The cutting wind is at least blocked when they step into the stables, and Izumi
sighs in relief at that. He shakes himself off like a recently bathed dog, as
if that’ll rid him of the frosty chill of winter, and he pulls Leo further
along down the stable aisle. “Look.” Izumi stops short in front of one of the
stall doors, and an enormous dappled grey gelding sticks his head over the
door, obviously looking for a treat. “He’s mine. Even the knights serving your
father—er, His Majesty are jealous, and for good reason, isn’t he beautiful?”
Leo’s eyes go wide. Silently, he fumbles in his breeches pocket, pulling out a
small apple and handing it over, palm up and open. “He’s magnificent. Ah, don’t
let Captain Goron see him, he’ll try to get Father to let him steal him. What’s
your name, handsome?”
“I haven’t named him yet,” Izumi admits, watching the horse immediately pluck
the apple up and out of Leo’s hand. “I won’t let anyone steal him, he’s mine.
I’m already a better rider than Captain Dumbass, anyway. I bet he’d get bucked
off.”
“He’s so big, can you really get your legs around him? Ahh…” Leo steps forward,
reaching a hand out, whickering softly in his throat until the big head comes
down, letting Leo pet his foreheard. “I speak horse.”
“Of course, Milord,” Izumi agrees without batting an eye. “D’you…do you want to
take him out with me now?” A poor decision, undoubtedly, but who else would he
take out in the snow on his new horse? “I’ll make sure no one finds us, there
are a lot of trails that no one is ever on, especially at this time.”
Leo’s eyes light up. “Really? Can we? He’s beautiful, I’d love to ride him, can
I really? You don’t mind?”
“He likes you, so it’s fine.” Izumi is already pulling the bridle off a hook,
and unlatching the stall door to put it on his horse. He only has to stretch up
onto his tiptoes a little. “I’m riding in front, though. You can just hold onto
me.”
Leo pulls the hood of his cloak up, covering his telltale hair before they
leave the stables. “Do you have a saddle that’ll fit him? If not, I can go get
mine for Bull, he’s almost as big.”
“We don’t need it.” Izumi leads the horse out into the stable aisleway, grabs a
handful of his mane, and hauls himself up onto his back with only a little huff
of effort. “Where I grew up, we used to ride like this all the time…and he’s so
fat, it’s comfortable,” he says with a laugh, leaning down to extend his hand
to Leo. “Grab onto me and jump, I’ll pull you up the rest of the way, Milord.”
“Oh, yeah, I’ve ridden like this loads of times,” Leo lies, wanting to look
cool in front of this mysterious shy country noble. Even with the prince
attending classes, Izumi is the one everyone whispers about, the one everyone
hints is a bastard page, the one they say came from the clouds to spy. He can
do things—he’s brilliant in all his classes, can ride and shoot and wield a
practice blade—like a noble, but looks confused at some of the courtly graces
second nature to those pages that grew up in the Capitol.
Leo grabs Izumi’s hand, and leaps up, trying to scrabble without hurting the
horse, easing himself into place with (hopefully) minimal embarrassment. It
feels entirely insecure without a saddle, and his instincts scream that this is
wrong—he’s been tossed onto horseback since he was old enough to walk, but
never without a saddle. It feels slippery, and oddly intimate with the horse’s
muscles rippling directly beneath his thighs. But Izumi is solid in front of
him, and Leo takes his opportunity, snaking his arms around Izumi’s waist,
tugging him close. “Take me somewhere I’ve never been,” he urges, almost unable
to believe they haven’t been caught yet.
The thrill of Leo pressed up behind him, holding tight around his waist, warm
and clingy and breathing against his neck, makes goosebumps prickle down
Izumi’s arms that have nothing to do with the cold. “As…as my lord wishes.” He
pulls his scarf tighter around his neck, his face flushed pink as he picks up
his horse’s reins and urges him forward.
He halts just outside of the stable, warily glancing about to make sure there’s
no one to catch sight of them. All clear, and he breathes a sigh of relief
before nudging the horse forward again, letting him pick his way carefully
through the slushy, well-traversed snow. “You never get to go anywhere without
your guards, right? That sounds really annoying.”
“I mean, I’m not supposed to,” Leo admits, tightening his arms around Izumi’s
waist, relaxing into the familiar rhythm of horseback. “I’m kinda famous for
making them find me, though. But I can’t help it! Sometimes you see stuff that
you just have to dive into headfirst, right? Right?”
“Waterholes,” Izumi mutters, nodding in agreement. “There’s a lot of them
around here, did you know? The ones back home are always hot, it’s weird,
they’ll make you pass out with all the steam if you’re not careful—but the ones
here, they’re always nice and cold, and they don’t seem to ice over in the
winter too much…” He pulls his horse’s head to the side, stopping him from
grabbing a mouthful of iced over grass as they move along to the forest trails
of his choice. It’s not the typical hunter’s path—that would be too
predictable. He’s sure Leo has seen those. “If your guards come looking for you
now, you can tell them I kidnapped you. I’d rather die an outlaw.”
Leo’s mouth parts, breath coming out in little white puffs. “You’re so cool,”
he mutters, looking around. “Ahh, I’ve never been on this path! And it’s right
by the palace, that’s wonderful! Where does it go?”
“Aaall the way to a waterhole I found a few months ago.” Confidence bolstered
by the praise, Izumi nudges his horse into a trot, which is fortunately one of
the smoother ones he’s ever felt. “It’s where a lot of noble girls go and strip
down and swim in the summer,” he says with a grin. “In the winter, though, it’s
always empty, so it’s like the perfect secret spot. I bet no one will ever be
able to find us.”
Leo gives Izumi’s shoulder a bite through his clothes. “I heard you got in
trouble for looking at all the girls bathing a bunch of times. What’s so good
about naked girls?”
“Ow! Did you just bite me?” Izumi twists his head around to glower at him.
“What’s not good about naked girls? They’re pretty. I didn’t get in trouble for
looking, I got in trouble because they invited me to join them, which is my
fault, for some reason. It wasn’t fair.”
“I heard you got in trouble for grabbing the schoolmaster’s daughter under her
skirt,” Leo presses, unrepentant for the bite. “Why would grownup ladies want
you to wash with them?”
“Because they think I’m cute.” Izumi shrugs. “She yelled at me, but she got
upset and threw a book at me later when I didn’t grab her again, you know.”
Leo shakes his head. The concept is baffling to him, but he’s never been
fascinated with girls the way everyone else he knows is, so he’s probably the
weird one…especially for being jealous that Izumi’s never tried to grab him
under his clothes.
But those girls don’t get to curl up against Izumi’s back late at night, riding
through winding secret trails behind the palace in search of a mysterious
hidden waterhole deep in the mountains. “Listen,” he whispers, mouth bare
centimeters from Izumi’s ear. “Everything rustling…it sounds like the woods are
crawling with monsters, doesn’t it? Maybe unicorns, maybe griffons, maybe
manticores…”
Izumi shivers down to his toes, and it has far more to do with Leo’s mouth
against his ear than the words coming out of it. His toes curl in his boots,
and he leans his head back to stare at Leo out of the corner of his eye. “Do
you really believe in stuff like that? Have you ever seen a unicorn? Ah,
careful, Milord, keep your head down, the trees get lower here.”
Leo ducks his head to avoid the branch, reaching down to rub over the horse’s
flank. “I’d never seen someone like you before I finally did,” he says softly,
unable to think of anything else to explain how he’s feeling. “That doesn’t
mean you didn’t exist in my mind.”
“W…what’s that supposed to mean?” Izumi’s cheeks flush hot even in the cold.
“How could I exist in your mind if you didn’t know me?” It doesn’t make sense
to him, especially because he knows no one else in the whole capitol has hair
like him and eyes to match. Don’t draw attention to yourself—easier said than
done, always, and Izumi has failed at that since he arrived. Meeting people
like Leo hasn’t made that any easier.
“Mm, I think I dreamed about you, when I was a child.” Leo’s cheeks flush, and
he leans forward, pressing one cheek against the back of Izumi’s shoulder. “Or
someone like you. I took a fever, when I was young, and all Father’s wizards
thought I was going to die. Someone beautiful with hair like a stormcloud laid
a cool hand on my head, and then I woke up. No one remembered seeing them. And
when you came to school…I thought you must have been from another world.”
“Milord…” What does he even say to that? What can he even say without coming
off as weird, or troubled by that story, or…personally invested? Izumi
struggles with the words for a moment before giving up, because the forest
opens up to a wide, open plain of snow. “If you hold on tightly, we can go
fast.” That’s better than talking about awkward things like himself, his hair,
or strange wizards.
Leo’s hands clasp in front of Izumi’s waist, clinging tightly. “I’ll trust you
to show me a new world, then,” he hums, unwilling to close his eyes even in the
whipping wind, wanting to see every moment of the ethereal snow plane, silent
but for the crunching of the horse’s hooves and Izumi’s rapid breath.
That’s a lot more trust than Izumi is used to, and he swallows, hoping Leo
can’t feel the nerves that make him grip the reins tighter as he urges his
horse forward.
If it were just him, he’d be gone at a full gallop by now, but Leo is a bad
liar, and it’s obvious he’s not exactly used to riding large horses completely
bareback. A brisk lope is good enough instead, especially when his horse is so
large, and he covers ground at a far quicker pace than Izumi is accustomed to.
The wind is sharp and cold, but Leo is so solid and warm against his back that
it doesn’t bother him, especially when he hunches forward over his horses neck
to break the stream of it.
He’s breathing hard when they finally pull up near the partially frozen pond,
white puffs of breath leaving both himself and his horse. The gelding tosses
his head, snorting, overeager about going fast again, and Izumi sighs in
exasperation, trying to quiet him with steadier hands and a firm leg. “Freezing
to death yet, Milord?” he breathlessly teases. “I think you might be a bit
under dressed after all.”
Leo shivers, his hands the coldest part of him, but he grins, teeth not yet
chattering. “Father’s wizard spelled the cloak,” he assures Izumi. “It’s warmer
than being tucked into a whole pile of furs. Also, I’ve got a burning heart, so
that keeps me warm from the inside, ha! Ah…what do we do, now that we’re here?
It’s too cold to swim.”
“Mm…if it were just me, I’d swim,” Izumi says without batting an eye. He
twists, curiosity getting the better of him, and he sticks a hand into Leo’s
cloak, his eyes going wide. “You’re not kidding. That’s so—“
In the woods surrounding the pond, something hisses and rattles. It’s probably
just the wind, or some wild animal, lurking and threatened by their presence in
the night, but it’s enough to make his already riled horse start, bolting
sideways. For such a large animal, he certainly gets his feet out from
underneath him quickly enough, skittering on the slick, snowy ground, and Izumi
curses, nearly toppling off and only saved by a handful of mane twisted between
his gloved fingers.
But Leo comes off, and that makes Izumi give up his own desire to look cool and
stay put. His horse, still spooking and jittery, is less important than his
prince on the ground in the snow, and he leaps off, releasing his horse and
letting him sort out his own nerves. “Leo—damn it, Milord, are you all right?”
The shock is worse than the pain. No, the cold is worse, and Leo shivers,
trying to pull his cloak over him when the world is tilted sideways, a white
slap of pain to his right side as he’s lying suddenly on the ground. It had
been so fast, just a lurch, a flash of the sky, and now the snow. He’s lying on
some kind of broken ice—he must be, with how sharp the pain in his arm is, and
he tries to move, only to cry out as pain shoots through him, making him gasp
for breath, cold sweat breaking out on his face, his whole nervous system in
shock.
He sucks in a breath, feeling his stomach churn at the boiling pain in his arm,
and he grits his teeth. You’re a prince of a great nation, he tells himself,
blinking tears out of his eyes. Don’t cry like a baby!
“I’m fine,” he says shakily, because that’s what you say when you fall if
you’re a prince, who doesn’t cry like a baby. He sits up carefully, then looks
down at his arm, and his heart sinks. “Oh. That’s…my sword arm.”
It’s bent at a shocking angle, almost fascinating in its wrongness, snapped
just above the elbow and dangling limply below that. His stomach turns again,
and he pokes it with his left hand, feeling a sick numbness shoot through him.
I’m dead, is the first thought that comes to Izumi’s mind. I’m dead, because
this is my fault, this was my idea, and now Leo is hurt.
 Izumi has half the mind to climb back on his horse and steer the accursed
animal straight into the pond. He drops down next to Leo in the snow, biting
his lip as he runs through his options, all of which he’s pretty sure he’s
going to die for, no matter which he chooses. 
At least there’s one he’ll die for that doesn’t end with the prince being
permanently useless at wielding a sword, and Izumi swallows audibly. “I…I can
fix it,” he quietly says, not quite able to meet Leo’s eyes when he says it.
“If you trust me, I’ll do it.”
“Izumi, look,” Leo whispers, his mind dislocated, drifting through space,
staring down at the ruin of his arm, not really hearing anything Izumi’s
saying. “Look, it’s my arm, can you believe it?”
His eyes go out of focus for a moment, then back in, blurring slightly. “Ah…I
think…Father’s wizard might be able to speed it up, if you can get me back
home.”
Well, I’m dead, anyway, who cares?
 Izumi exhales a huff of breath and pushes Leo down into the snowbank with a
trembling hand. He rips his own scarf off, throwing it over Leo’s face. “Don’t
look,” he orders, ripping off his glove, and he reaches down, grabbing Leo’s
broken arm and pulling it straight back to the correct angle before a protest
can escape Leo’s lips.
That should hurt—or it would, if Izumi’s grasp didn’t numb the entire arm the
second he touches it. The sudden, abrupt use of magic takes Izumi’s breath
away, especially when he’s using it on someone else, for such a large and
obvious wound. It’s one thing to fix his own scrapes and bruises, but the last
time he’d done something like this wasn’t even on a human, but a struggling,
limping kitten that a horse had stepped on, and even that had made him
lightheaded once the kitten had squirmed out of his arms, robust and taking off
at top speed.
The flow and focus of power is a strange one, and Izumi can feel the bones and
blood vessels shifting and popping back into place underneath his fingertips,
mending swiftly. When he finally draws his hand away, there isn’t even a single
bruise in sight, and he feels himself shaking, trembling all the way down to
his toes. “There,” he whispers, vibrating where he sits, ready to bolt, or
perhaps better, throw himself into the water and drown from the cold. “Milord,
I…I’m begging you, please, don’t tell anyone.”
The shock of breaking his arm is nothing compared to this.
Leo feels like he’s at the center of a storm raging under his own skin,
stealing his senses and leaving him shaken. The riot finally fades from his
mind, leaving it surprisingly clear, looking down at his arm, whole and
unmarred, still tingling. Slowly, he looks up at Izumi, trembling like a leaf,
looking terrified and haunted all at once. “You…” he whispers, unable to
believe what he’s seen. “Izumi…what are you?”
“Please don’t tell anyone.” Izumi can hear his own pulse thundering in his
ears. He’s lightheaded from two different directions at once, and it’s the
worst feeling he’s sure he’s ever felt. His lower lip trembles, tears welling
up in his eyes. “I…I don’t want to be sent away, I don’t, I want to be a
knight, not a wizard or…or…” His breath hiccups, and he sniffs, hurriedly
lifting a hand to wipe at his face, desperate still not to make a fool out of
himself in front of Leo by crying. “Please, Milord, I’d rather you kill me t-
than tell anyone, so just…just warn me now if you’re going to tell, so I can
run away.”
Leo doesn’t think. If he were thinking, he’d remember that there’s a reason his
father has banned untrained wizards, that all wizards have a few things in
common (little of it good), that some of the greatest atrocities of all time
have been committed by those who hid such powers.
But he isn’t.
He’s leaning forward, grabbing Izumi by the front of his shirt and hauling him
close for a firm, chaste kiss on his lips to stop their wobbling, pulling back
and bringing his hands up to cup Izumi’s face. “I’ll be that secret’s keeper,”
he swears, holding his eyes. “It’ll never pass my lips. That’s my word as your
prince. And…and as your friend.”
Izumi blinks back at him, eyes wide and wet before he slowly nods, sniffling as
he reaches up to grab at one of Leo’s hands. “Okay,” he whispers, exhaling a
long, shaky breath. “Okay. I…I’m glad.” He trembles again, far more out of
weakness now than deep, sure terror that he’s going to be killed or exiled.
“I’m…I’m sorry you got hurt. It’s fine now, right? It doesn’t ache? I don’t…I
don’t do things like this often, I…”
Leo gives what he hopes is an encouraging smile, waving his arm around to test
it, clenching and unclenching his fist. “No pain, no weakness, no problem!
Wahaha, Izumi is incredible, you’ve got to promise to never leave my side,
you’re better than all of Father’s wizards put together!”
“That’s because they all suck,” Izumi sniffs, wiping at his nose with his
sleeve. “And I’m not a wizard. I…I don’t know what I am, but I’ve never read
anything like it in books, you know? And I’ve looked. A lot.”
Slowly, painstakingly, he pulls himself to his feet, tired of shivering in the
snow, and he brushes himself off, looking around for his horse. The stupid
animal has decided that trying to paw through the snow and eat at wilted grass
is a good idea, and so Izumi sighs, leaving him be. “My mother told me not to
ever let anyone know,” he mumbles, tugging his gloves back on. “She said…she
said they’d send me away, for sure.”
“They would,” Leo says softly. Then he unclasps his cloak, pulling Izumi into
his lap, letting the cloak billow over both of them. “Here, get warm. Who in
the hells was your father? A god?” It’s a little bit flippant, but Leo isn’t
joking. Most of his father’s scholars would tell him such a thing was
impossible. His favorite of them, however, would wink, and slide over a few
relevant scriptures.
As much as he normally favors the cold, Izumi currently feels sapped enough of
energy that Leo’s cloak is a welcome refuge that he can’t refuse. Izumi huddles
close, exhaling a wet, hiccuping breath. “I don’t know,” he admits quietly,
staring down at his trembling hands. “My mother doesn’t either. She…she was
barren, before whoever he was came and raped her. She never told me that, but
one of her sisters did. They dislike me, but I believe it. They don’t have any
reason to lie about it.”
Leo scowls at the idea of someone disliking Izumi, and tucks his cloak around
them both more tightly. “They should be grateful to you, aren’t you the only
heir? Father mentioned your mother’s estate—he considered marrying her to a
cousin, you know, just to secure the mountains. But she wouldn’t, I heard,
because she wanted to give it all to you.”
“I’m still a bastard, so they can dislike me all they want,” Izumi mutters,
shrugging a little as he buries his face into Leo’s neck. He’s like a small,
concentrated fireplace, cloak or no cloak, and that more than anything makes
the tremors start to leave him. “It’s different in the countryside. The nobles
out there, they aren’t like the ones here. We do all of our own work, you know?
Not a slight, Milord, but—for comparison, my mother maybe had two, three
servants in the whole of our house. You have seven all to yourself, don’t you?”
He’s counted, for reasons (to learn their schedules, and how to avoid them).
“So what she has to offer me is a lot less, and therefore, I’m a lot less
important as an heir unless I’m here and making myself a lot more skilled. If
I’m not skilled, anyone could take over her estate. If I don’t make a name for
her, anyone else could put a name on the mountains and take hers away.” Izumi
sniffs again. “Me having this creepy power isn’t helping any of that. The only
thing it’s ever been good for is not having to be afraid during practice.”
A smile flickers over Leo’s mouth. “When you first came, I heard Master Sasan
say you had no fear. He said you could be the deadliest warrior in the world,
but you’ll probably die first. But if you can always heal yourself…ah, you
haven’t sworn to anyone else, have you? I…want you to swear to me, before one
of my stupid duke uncles snatches you up.”
It’s a dreadfully selfish request. It isn’t as if Izumi can refuse a prince,
after all, but the squire to a duke would become an independent, fully-blooded
knight upon adulthood. A squire to a prince, however, would remain a squire
until that prince became a king, unable to marry, unable to hold land or
titles. If Leo’s father lives a long time, Izumi would be signing away most of
his life in servitude with little reward beyond prestige.
Of course, if Leo’s father dies young, Izumi would become the Captain of his
Kingsguard, automatically elevated to the highest knightship in the land.
Izumi frowns, and he shifts on Leo’s lap, twisting to look at him. “I’m not
swearing to one of your stupid uncles,” he bluntly says. “I don’t like them and
they can’t make me.”
“Uncle Rodan wants you.” Leo looks down now, embarrassed that he said anything,
avoiding Izumi’s eyes. “He’s a great knight. And he’s got three pretty
daughters, if you squire for him you could become a Count. A Duke, if he has no
sons by the time you marry his daughter.”
“Yeah, but—“ Izumi’s lips purse as he tries to catch himself and not sound like
a country hick. It’s too late, probably. “I don’t like him, and I don’t care
about getting married. His daughters aren’t that pretty.” He heaves a sigh,
tilting his head back. “Can I swear to swear to you later? I don’t want to yet.
I mean, I want to, Milord, but…” His expression shifts wry. “I kinda like
pissing off your uncles and everyone else by not swearing to them and still
being the best. Does that make sense?”
Leo hesitates. His hand fists in his cloak, trying to keep his voice steady.
“You’re throwing away a chance to make a name for your mother, though. Didn’t
you come here to keep your estates safe? You’re a Lord in your own right, but
you could be anything. You could make your mother a Countess, bring her here to
wear lovely dresses and have a hundred servants.”
“I don’t need to swear to anyone to make a name for her.” Izumi is very certain
of that. He shrugs, glancing down at his lap again. “Milord…with all due
respect, I know how good I am. I could be a squire the rest of my life and
still bring honor to my mother’s name, if I fought on the right sides of
things—I don’t need to be a Duke or anything to swing a sword correctly.
Buuut…I’ll swear to you, when you’re king. If I still like you.”
“Wahaha! You’re so cocky!” Leo lets the hood fall off his head, shaking out his
hair, mussed and wild. “I love that. I love you, Izumi. And you are good
enough. So get off my lap and let’s go home, before they send the dogs and
wizards after us. And when my father dies, you’ll be Captain of my
Kingsguard…if I still like you.”
“Don’t just say you love people like that,” Izumi exasperatedly says, his
cheeks flushing pink, and he grabs Leo’s arm as he climbs to his feet, hauling
him after him. “It’s no good! Obviously you’ll still like me, it’s me liking
you that you’ll need to worry about, Milord.”
His horse meanders closer, knocking his head against Izumi’s back, and Izumi
scowls, grabbing his reins. “Don’t fall off this time,” he warns Leo, scaling
his horse like he’s a snake slithering easily up a tree, and reaches out his
hand to pull Leo up after him. “I’m not fixing anything again, I’m tired.”
Leo hauls himself up, settling in behind Izumi once again, hooking his chin
over Izumi’s shoulder, unafraid now to press up close. “You’ll fix me if I fall
again,” he says, entirely assured. “But what if someone breaks my heart? Will
you fix me then?”
“Yeah, but first, I’ll have to kill whoever did it.” Oops. That was probably a
little creepy. Oh well. Izumi shrugs, urging his horse forward. “Someone has to
do it, Milord.”
“I, uh, don’t think anyone has to do that.”
“Mmhm. I do. No one’s allowed to break your heart.”
“…You’re a very secretly cute person. No wonder girls want you to flip their
skirts.”
Izumi’s face flushes, and he scowls, staring straight ahead as he digs his
heels into his horse’s sides. “Please hold tight, Milord,” he huffs. “I’m
taking you home and never taking you out again!”
“Promises, promises! Go the whole way and kidnap me and go on the run, we’ll
have adventures!”
Izumi snorts, but he ducks forward, hiding a smile. “As soon as you’re
king—consider that a promise.”
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
Leo is avoiding him.
Izumi has had enough on his plate lately, but at least he’s been sure of why.
Two scandals, summed up in short by his blunt refusal of an offer from Leo’s
uncle, to swear to him and be granted a real title, a blue-blooded wife, and a
great deal of power (he had been offered it at a dinner ceremony, even, and the
applause had started before he’d even said no, causing a scene that no one has
yet forgiven), thenhis opportunistic flirting with the queen herself (she had
liked it, honestly, and encouraged it, how was he supposed to stop or know that
her brother was lurking about and watching and reporting to the king himself?).
Izumi is well aware that he causes a number of his own problems—like those
scandals—but with Leo suddenly avoiding him…well, he’s at a loss.
A stressful, niggling fear that the king has finally turned Leo against him
lingers at the back of his mind. In light of all of these scandals, Izumi
wouldn’t even be surprised. His reputation has grown progressively worse
through the years—better on the battlefield, which is all that he truly cares
about—and Leo’s favor helps less and less in matters with the king. It’s why
Izumi can’t wait to clean himself up for the day and lurk outside of the
stables until he sees Leo stalk inside and head straight to his own horse’s
stall.
Casual. Have to be casual! Izumi waits a minute or two before slinking inside,
his booted feet quiet on the dirt floor. “Evening, Milord,” he greets, and his
heart thumps hard in his chest, uncharacteristic panic already jumping into his
throat. If for some reason Leo has turned against him, then he’s…well, he might
as well die. That’s what it feels like, at any rate.
Leo freezes in his tracks.
At least, his heart freezes. Nearly two decades of court training keep negative
emotions from appearing on his face, so he merely schools his expression to
neutral, going about the motions of brushing out his horse. “Hello,” he says
flatly, not making eye contact. He should be using Izumi’s form of address, of
course, but page sounds insulting to a man within a year of reaching his
majority—which is his own fault, of course, because any reasonable man would
have sworn to a nobleman by now.
But Izumi isn’t a reasonable man, he reminds himself, taking care not to brush
too hard. It isn’t his gelding’s fault, after all.
Ah. Okay, still angry—but about…what, exactly? Izumi tries not to wince as he
leans against the frame of the stall door, arms folded. He’s never had to
figure this sort of thing out with Leo before, which makes it at least a
million times more difficult. “Going out for an evening ride?” he asks. “Would
you like company?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be gone soon. Then you can have the stables to yourself.
That’s what you like, isn’t it?”
Only Izumi makes Leo run his mouth like that, and Leo bites his tongue too
late, face hot and angry.
“…Huh?” Izumi’s head cocks, and he blinks, openly and honestly confused. “I
mean…I like being alone, Milord, but that only applies to anyone that isn’t
you, obviously,” he dismisses with a laugh. “Did I snap at you while I was
saddling Vale?  I assure you, that wasn’t any fault of your own, I was probably
just cross that he’s getting so fat while I’ve been busy scrubbing toilets.”
Leather boots scrape on the floor, and Leo’s face darkens when he sees a few
stableboys heading down from their loft to beg food for supper. “Be quicker
about showing me your backs,” he snaps, and watches them jump at his tone,
sending them scurrying towards the kitchen back door. He lowers his voice,
muttering unintelligibly to Tempo under his breath about boys with dangerous
appetites and low standards.
Izumi’s eyebrows raise, and he drums his fingers against his arms. “Got
something against them now, Milord?” he wryly asks, straightening to grab
Tempo’s saddle blanket, shaking it clean. “It’s not often you act like a brat,
but I suppose it can be endearing every now and then.”
Leo slams the brush back into its holster, wheeling on Izumi with blazing eyes.
“I saw you,” he hisses, and gives Izumi’s chest a shove. “With—with whatever
his name is, the little black-haired one that’s always following you around
like, ‘oh, yes,Milord Izumi, what can I do for you, Milord Izumi,’ begging to
lick your boots and your whatever else!”
Leo’s shove barely sways him, which is helpful when all Izumi can do is blink
down at his prince, his head tilting slowly in the other direction this time.
“…And this…bothers you,” he slowly deduces, throwing the saddle blanket back
over the stall. “That’s…unfortunate.” It bothers him that it bothers Leo, on a
few different levels, and Izumi tries not to show that on his face—fails, of
course, because he’s not the greatest at hiding his displeasure, never has
been. In this case, it’s less displeasure, more hurt, but if he fights it down
enough, maybe he won’t look so offended. “If it bothers you so much, petition
your father to let me chase women again when I’m confined to court, then. He
threatened to chop my balls off if he saw me touch another woman within the
month, and I need those, thanks.”
Leo wants to smack him again, frustrated nearly to the point of tears—but no,
he’s already cried over this bastard once in the last few days, he’s not going
to do it again. He grabs his saddle blanket, throwing it over Tempo’s back,
then grabbing his saddle next. “This is why you’re disgusting,” he says, trying
not to let his voice shake. “You just—you act like you can get away with
anything, you act like people are disposable and don’t have any feelings—not
today, sir,” he adds in a growl, kneeing Tempo in the gut until he exhales,
letting Leo cinch him tightly.
“Forgive me, Milord, but I’m not seeing how one relates to the other,” Izumi
bluntly retorts, hands on his hips as he watches Leo critically. “I felt up a
stableboy and suddenly, you’re furious with me. You’ve seen me do the same to
girls a million times—why is that different? If you think I’m disgusting for
touching another man, then—well, I’m not apologizing. This isn’t a new
preference.”
“That’s worse!” Hurt twists in Leo’s gut, followed by the certainty that he’s
the problem, he’s the ugly one, he’s the one with too many issues, too much
baggage, too many demanding relatives. He shouldn’t keep talking, especially
not where anyone could hear them, so he leaps up onto Tempo’s back, nodding at
the door behind Izumi. “Open it.”
“No.” Izumi scowls up at him. “Why is that worse? Get off your damned horse or
I’m climbing up there with you and we can talk like that.” Literally no one
else alive except the king himself would talk to the prince like that, but,
well, what is good sense, honestly.
“Get out of my way and open the door, that’s an order from your prince!” Izumi,
of all people, knows how little Leo enjoys giving orders as your prince, but
he’s too upset to care right now.
Izumi’s mouth tightens, and he flips the latch, pulling the door open—right
before he grabs hold of the side of Leo’s saddle and hauls himself up behind
him in one, fluid leap. “Yes, yes, let’s go on a ride together, Milord, you’re
right,” he hums, reaching around Leo and snatching the reins out of his grasp.
A swift kick spurs Tempo forward, cantering straight out of the stable. “What a
great way to discuss this in private!”
Leo curses, grabbing onto Tempo’s mane when Izumi has the reins, unable even to
throw himself off the horse when Izumi’s arms are around him. Frustrated tears
threaten to spill out of his eyes, and he blinks rapidly, cursing his stupid
beautiful responsive fast horse as they leave the palace far behind, cantering
up a quiet palace road.
Once they’re ten minutes out of the palace, he relaxes slightly, and the shame
starts to steal into his gut. “You can talk now,” he says quietly, staring
straight ahead. “I shouldn’t have ordered you around like that. You didn’t
break any laws.”
Izumi says nothing at first, and he gradually slows Leo’s horse, taking him
down to a walk when he’s certain Leo isn’t going to jump off and head back on
his own. “No, but you still think I’m disgusting, Milord,” he eventually,
softly says, heaving a sigh. “So that’s…new. I didn’t know it bothered you so.”
“I didn’t say you were disgusting. I said you don’t care about people’s
feelings. Pay attention when I say things, bastard page.”
“Can you not call me that? It’s unsightly when I’m this old. The exact word you
used was ‘disgusting’, but I will give you that you also know I don’t care
about people’s feelings. You’re just forgetting that you aren’t people.”
“Stop it.” Leo rubs at his face, heartsick. “I thought it was an act. You’ve
always been so damn unknowable—it’s always been easy for me to believe that
you’re not coldhearted, that you’re just bad at showing your true self, I hate
seeing you throw people aside as if they’re garbage. I want you to be better
than that.”
Izumi exhales a long, frustrated breath as he leans forward, dropping his chin
atop one of Leo’s shoulders. “What is this about, exactly?” he wearily asks.
“Are you upset that I didn’t swear to your uncle after all? Are you upset that
your mother thinks I’m charming? Are you so annoyed at whats-his-face for
existing and spoiling my womanizer image? I can’t really change any of them,
but, well, I can at least know what I’m supposed to be apologizing about
first.”
“We’ve—we’ve been riding together like this a hundred times, haven’t we?” Leo
half-whispers, more annoyed with himself than with Izumi, all for his own
cowardice. “I’ve had my arms around you on Vale, or you like this on Tempo. And
I didn’t have the faintest idea that you liked to lift shirts as well as
skirts.”
“Mmm. A couple of reasons for that, Milord. Most boys in the Capitol are dirty
and ugly and not to my taste…and it’s much easier to find cute boys that don’t
have a chip on their shoulder about it when you’re on the road.” Izumi shrugs.
“My mother always warned me to be careful about it, too. It’s not illegal, but
when you’re wanting to be a knight and you look like I do, it’s better that no
one knows. Less questions, less teasing. I don’t have time for it.”
“That’s a shit reason you’ve given me,” Leo says tiredly, letting his head fall
back against Izumi’s chest. The ache in his own isn’t going away, but talking
about this feels as if he’s poking at that ache, making him hurt more and more,
but he can’t stop. “If you cared about ruffling feathers, you wouldn’t tumble
every serving girl who looks at you once—or at least you wouldn’t tumble every
Duke’s wife. You don’t care if people ask questions or tease.”
A muscle in Izumi’s jaw twitches irritably. “You know, Milord, if you wanted a
different reason, then maybe you should come up with it yourself. You don’t get
bothered for fucking every woman that moves, let me assure you—though I know
you wouldn’t know that, you damned cherry.”
Usually, the insult feels playful, the way it is when Leo calls him Bastard
Page. Just now, it hits him low, and he feels his fingers grow cold with
embarrassment, as if it’s something to be ashamed of. “Just because I haven’t
degraded myself doesn’t mean I’m a child. I know what the men at court say,
I’ve lived here my whole life. And there are lots of better looking boys
around, so why the stableboy? Is that the type you really like?”
“Ugh, no. But I was horny, and he was there, and I didn’t have to do a damned
thing for him in return, so. Degraded yourself, honestly, you’re sounding like
such a prude,” Izumi grumpily mutters. “Why are you so fixated on that damned
stableboy? You sound like a jealous maiden.”
And as soon as he says it, it clicks. Izumi pauses, frozen for a moment, and
his eyebrows climb. “You are. You are jealous, aren’t you?”
This is the worst. Leo shifts forward, face hot, trying to put some distance
between them when they’re riding the same horse. “N-no! A prince jealous of a
stableboy—don’t make me laugh—“
“You are! You’re jealous!” Izumi leans forward, his eyes lighting up—and then
he remembers that right, fuck, this is the prince, this is Leo, this isn’t just
some other boy he can tease and fuck and be done with.
 Namely, the whole reason he’s never even tried.
He swallows, leaning back. “You really shouldn’t be,” Izumi tries casually
instead. “You’re…mm. You’re special, Milord.”
“So special you don’t look at me the same way,” Leo says bitterly, flushed with
shame at the way he’s acting. This isn’t the way a prince of the realm should
act, like some common trollop with less sense than tits. He’s often wondered,
staring at his ceiling in the darkness of his lantern, how it would feel to be
one of Izumi’s women, how his hands would feel, how his mouth would feel, how
it would feel to have him inside.
And then he’d seen his stableboy—a skinny lad with too-large eyes and short-
cropped black hair that he’d rarely looked at twice—looking flushed and elated,
with Izumi’s hand between his thighs. It wasn’t the first time he’d wanted to
shave his head and become a stableboy—but it was the first time he’d wanted to
have a stableboy murdered. That thought had been shameful and embarrassing, and
he’d hated it, hated himself, hated Izumi for making it happen.
Shit. Shit, shit, he’s going to fuck this up. “Well—yes, you’re right, I don’t
look at you in the same way.” Izumi grimaces, cursing his tongue for suddenly
being entirely useless. “That’s not what I meant,” he quickly adds, hauling
Leo’s horse to a stop reflexively to mimic his own backtracking. “Milord—the
way I feel about you—it’s—“
Very, very different.
 Different at its very core, down to the snowy night when Leo had kissed him,
chaste and sweet and innocent, and Izumi hadn’t been able to forget it.
Distracting himself with a woman every single time Leo as much as smiled at him
was the only way out of this hell outside of going completely insane—because
Leo is as pretty as a girl, prettier than a girl, but with all the warmth and
sturdiness of a boy, smelling all the time of fresh, clean soap and hay and
grain, smart as a whip and the only person in the Capitol that understands his
sarcasm and can keep up with him in riding and the only person that ever has
stood up for him except himself, even once.
And if I try to chase after the prince, even if he wants me, it’s not going to
be just a threat that the king delivers.
 Izumi’s fingers clench, and he kicks Tempo forward again. “I would never touch
you like that stableboy.”
There’s something wrong with me.
 Leo realizes it suddenly—Izumi has seen him bathing, seen him changing, and
must have seen something he didn’t like. Or maybe it’s something about him—it’s
because he’s too commanding, too brash, too self-centered. No, wait, Izumi has
always liked those things about him…hasn’t he?
“I’ve acted like an awful brute,” he says softly, hands settling onto Tempo’s
mane. “Throwing a tantrum just because you don’t want me—that’s not how a real
friend would act. I…ah, I’ve shamed myself, and a real prince takes
responsibility. I won’t be the sort of king that trifles with people’s lives,
so I mustn’t be that sort of king, either. I’m sorry, Izumi.”
Izumi sucks in a breath, then lets it out as a sigh. “You’re an idiot, but I
don’t want you to apologize,” he mutters, switching Tempo’s reins to one hand
to reach up and pull on Leo’s stub of a ponytail, suddenly embarrassed.
“Obviously I want you. That’s not the issue here, Milord.”
“But I’ve—wait. What?”
“You heard me, you stupid prince. Obviously I want you. On any given day, you
make me feel like I need to eat a whole raw potato to calm the fuck down.”
Izumi’s expression shifts wry, and he leans back, staring skyward. “But I’d
have to kill myself if I went there. No one’s allowed to break your heart, they
have to die.”
Emotions race through Leo’s mind, and he twists around in his saddle, utterly
befuddled. “No—you don’t want me,” he insists, not sure why he’s arguing
against something he wants. “You don’t care about things like status or what
your place is, you tried to sleep with my mother, so why wouldn’t you just grab
me?”
“I literally just told you. No one’s allowed to break your heart, they’d have
to die, and I’m not ready to die.” Izumi stares at him, exasperated. “Milord,
follow along. You were there for that original conversation.”
Leo frowns, then gives Izumi’s too-hard head a smack. “We’re talking about sex,
aren’t we? I’m not that fragile, I won’t let my heart break just because my
dear friend grabbed my arse.”
Izumi doesn’t sway with the hit, but he does grab Leo’s hand, squeezing it too
tightly. There’s no other way to get it across to Leo if he’s not blunt and
honest, and Izumi does hate that, fundamentally, but… “It’s not just about
sex,” he abruptly says before he loses his nerve, staring down at Leo. “With
anyone else, it’s about sex. You aren’t just ‘anyone else’, Milord.”
Leo opens his mouth, then shuts it.
But if it’s not just sex—
 Then it’s—
 Oh.
 Izumi, the oldest page in court, the country bastard who’d tried to lift the
queen’s skirts, the brash, cocky one who’d refused to squire for a Duke, the
rogue that’s lifted half the skirts in the palace, the man that glitters with
secrets in Leo’s vision, is in love with him.
Cold nerves evaporate. Sick frustration disappears. The furrows in his brow
smooth, and he sucks in a breath, feeling it catch in his throat as he grabs
Izumi’s shirt, splaying his hands onto his chest. “That’s stupid,” he whispers.
“You’d never hurt me.”
“Is that what you think?” Izumi’s voice wavers as he forces a laugh, hating how
he suddenly sounds terrified and backed into a corner. Fuck. He’s fucked, Leo
is grabbing at him and staring at him with those big, green eyes and if this
continues, he’s done for. He pulls Tempo to a stop just off the road, and the
horse shifts restlessly, obviously feeling the tension in both of his riders.
“Milord—I could ruin you. Because if anything comes of this, I’m not going to
stop, I’m not going to leave you alone, and—and that’s stupid.”
“You’re stupid as well as a bastard if you think you’re allowed to leave me
now!” Leo’s voice is suddenly loud, and he swings off Tempo’s back, getting his
feet shakily on the ground. Twisting around like that is never going to work,
but staring up at Izumi feels weird, and he plants his hands on his hips,
scowling. “Didn’t you already swear to be my squire?” he demands. “Didn’t you
swear to protect me for the rest of our lives? You’re banned from leaving my
service, whether I take off my clothes for you or not!”
Izumi has half the mind to ride off and leave Leo there to try and hide from
this mess, and he sighs, staring off into the distance for a moment before he
slides off of the horse, landing lightly on the ground.
“Is that an actual order, Milord?” Izumi stands in front of him, folding his
arms, staring down at him through his lashes. “Whether you take off your
clothes or not?”
Leo sucks in a breath. Now that they’re face to face, this all feels entirely
too real—but hasn’t it always? Hasn’t he craved this, desperate for Izumi’s
touch—and more than that, for Izumi’s breath hot on his ear, whispering gentle
words? He folds his arms across his chest, firming his jaw. “If you love me,”
he says, voice as measured as he can manage, “you should be a man about it.
Because, Izumi, your prince…” He swallows, feeling suddenly very exposed. “Your
prince…would die for your love.”
Ah, that’s it. He’s done for.
Izumi grabs Tempo’s reins, tying them into a makeshift knot around a low tree
branch as an afterthought before he snatches Leo up by the front of his shirt,
shoves him back against the trunk of that same tree, and—and feels his heart
leap into his throat, his stomach twisting into knots, his breath stuttering.
You’re so beautiful, you’re perfect, you’re everything—all of those things
stick to his tongue, and Izumi exhales a frustrated noise before he simply
grabs up Leo’s face in his hands and meets him half-way, pulling him into the
kiss he’s been dying to plant there for years. His nerves dissolve in an
instant—Leo is warm, soft, so fucking real that it hurts—and he steps forward,
kissing Leo again, his fingers dragging through his fiery hair, a thigh shoved
between Leo’s to hold him in place for kiss after kiss. “Milord,” he rasps
helplessly, “you’ve made such a mistake telling me that.”
Leo is on fire.
He’s sure he’s burning to ash, because Izumi is so powerfully, inescapably
here, touching, holding, exploring, pressing him against an old-growth oak,
pouring everything Leo has ever wanted into him as he gasps. He’s wanted to
wind his hands through Izumi’s silver-cloud hair for a decade, and does now,
yanking it fiercely out of its tie. It’s as soft as he’s imagined, and he lets
his fingers splay, as delighted by that as he is by Izumi’s tongue in his
mouth, by Izumi’s thigh between his own. His eyes burn when he looks up,
beseeching, holding onto Izumi’s hair to keep him from leaving as much as it’s
to touch and feel.
“Tell me,” he pleads, hungry for the words even as he shifts his feet apart,
shivering when Izumi’s thigh presses against his cock. He’s always known it
would feel good to be fucked by Izumi, always desired it—but to be loved by him
is something he’s never even considered, with every aching glance he’s shot at
the other boy. “Tell me again you won’t ever stop.”
Izumi groans at that, and sucks on Leo’s tongue instead for a moment to shut
him up, to shut himself up, to get more of Leo’s taste in his mouth. Leo’s
fingers dragging through his hair feel suddenly a million times more intimate
than any girl’s mouth on his cock, and he shudders, pressing forward to let his
cock press hard against Leo’s hip. “I can’t stop,” he corrects with a
breathless laugh, pawing a hand down Leo’s chest, hiking up his shirt to run
his fingers over the skin beneath. “I can’t and I won’t. Leo…”
His head tilts, and he finds a spot on Leo’s neck to suck on, feeling the way
his pulse jumps underneath his mouth. “I want to eat you alive,” he breathes,
his fingers gently pinching one of Leo’s nipples. “You’ll let me, won’t you?”
Leo nods before his mind catches up, and he looks around, breaking apart to
laugh at himself. “Not…on a main thoroughfare,” he says, stroking his hands
over Izumi’s chest, admiring the muscles there, taking his time as his cock
swells. “I’m not saying no! I want—Nnh, I want you inside of me, I want you to
make it so I can’t walk for a week,” he breathes, eyes hazy with the way his
blood rushes south. “Just not where anyone could find us.”
“I’m not getting back on that horse right now.” Izumi’s fingers drag southward
to cup Leo through his breeches, squeezing slowly as he surges forward again to
kiss and bite at Leo’s neck. He’s not really sure he could stop even if a god
came between them right now, so help him. “What d’you know about not walking
for a week, Milord?” he lowly teases. “You’ve been listening to too many rumors
about me.”
Leo lets out a frustrated, thirsty little whine, then grabs Izumi’s hand with
all the determination he has, yanking him off the road and into the trees.
Tempo will be fine by the road, and shouldn’t be witness to this anyway.
Light flickers through the trees, dappling the fallen leaves, and Leo drags
them down, shoving Izumi to his back, kneeling astride him to kiss him again.
“I’ve heard lots of things about you,” he says, voice belying how far he is
from calm. “I’ve always—since we were so much younger, I always made the girls
tell me what bedding you was like.”
“You…you what?” Izumi snorts out a laugh as he flops onto his back, amused as
much as he is aroused by Leo’s sudden motivation. “What did they say?” he asks
with a grin, grabbing Leo around the waist, thumbing over his hipbones with a
hitching sigh as his hips arch up on their own accord, letting the hard line of
his cock rub against Leo’s ass. “Apparently something good, if you’re still
this interested.”
“They could have told me it was made out of horse dung and I’d still want you,”
Leo admits, eyes lidding as Izumi grinds against him. His skin tingles with
excitement, for some reason making his nipples tighten and twinge. He can
imagine it, he thinks, and he confesses in a hushed whisper, grinding and
rocking and flexing down, “I’d make them tell me how you touched them, and
where, and how hard, and I’d go back to my room and try to touch myself that
way. I was…so jealous, when they talked about having you in their—I wanted one,
just so I could feel you, but then I found out that two men…” His face is deep
red now, but he doesn’t look away, daring Izumi to laugh.
Izumi abruptly rolls them, pinning Leo onto his back, nestled firmly between
his thighs. “Milord,” he murmurs, his eyes lidded and bright in the low light,
leaves sticking to his loose hair as it tumbles over his shoulders, “you’re so
cute.”
Leo’s neck is fair game again, and Izumi sucks on the arc of his throat as his
fingers yank open the lacings of Leo’s pants, reaching in them to immediately
wrap around his cock. It takes his breath away for a moment. It isn’t as if
he’s never seen it before, but actually getting to touch it is something else
entirely, especially when it fits within his grasp like it’s meant to be there,
even when it’s hard and flushed and making his fingers sticky. “You really want
me inside of you so badly?” His thumb drags over the head of Leo’s cock,
pressing down gently, stroking down the underside of it. “Most men…heh, I guess
you don’t know any of those stories, huh? Most men want my mouth instead, right
here.”
Leo shakes his head, overwhelmed already, on the verge of spilling over Izumi’s
hand in the first second. “If you did—too much, I want you to keep touching me,
Izumi…I’ll die if you stop, I’ll kill you if you stop!”
Maybe that’s overdramatic and silly, but it just feels honest at the moment,
when every time Izumi touches him it lights a fire under his skin, back arching
off the forest floor. Izumi looks like a debauched god, sunlight streaming
through his hair, making his face look soft and shadowed turned away from the
light. His mouth is sinful, dragging pants and squeals out of Leo’s throat when
he sucks on his neck, and Leo’s thighs tremble, then spread eagerly, hips
rocking up. “If you…just a little more, I’ll…”
“Mnn, you’ll what? You’ll come for me?” If he sounds overeager, it’s because he
is. Izumi’s own cock throbs, aching in time with the sound of his pulse
pounding in his ears, and his fingers squeeze harder, stroking with every
little squeak and shudder. “I’m not gonna stop,” he promises, tilting his head
to nip at the lobe of Leo’s ear, tugging on it deliberately. “Even if you come
for me now, I’ll make you do it again, and again, once I get my cock inside of
you.”
Leo’s vision whites out, and his back spasms as he arches off the fallen
leaves, spurting his seed over his belly and Izumi’s hand at those filthy
words, his cry reverberating through the forest. “Aahhh…nnh, it’s, it’s too
much, it’s…gods, any time you want me to come quickly just whisper that in my
ear, I suppose…”
“Heh, called that one.” Izumi sits back, smug, taking in the sight of Leo
sprawled out and sated with a long, content sigh. “I bet I could get you off
just by talking to you. Did those girls tell you I was good at that, too?”
He pulls his hand up, taking a tentative lick of one of his fingers before
sucking it into his mouth, his eyes fluttering. “You need to stop tasting like
that, Milord,” he murmurs. “Or I’ll be on my knees for you too often in a way
that has nothing to do with being your squire.”
Leo bites his lip as his cock twitches again, a low shudder traveling through
his whole body, another little bit of liquid squeezing out of his cock, slowly
softening against his belly. “I’m very angry,” he breathes, eyelashes
fluttering. “That I didn’t know you were tumbling boys, so I couldn’t ask any
of them what to expect. What would they tell me, hmm?”
“…I’ll tell you later.” Izumi leans over him again, nuzzling underneath his
chin, tilting his head down again to steal a kiss. “Did you imagine it any
particular way, Milord?” He reaches down, idly unlacing his own breeches,
giving his own cock a squeeze before he loses his mind. “I aim to please.”
Leo’s eyes drop, and his cock stops going soft immediately, lurching almost
painfully back to hardness when he actually catches sight of a man’s hard cock
for the first time in his life. “It’s different from mine,” he murmurs, almost
marveling even as his body shudders, feeling overwarm and sated all at once.
“Ah, they weren’t lying, it’s big, isn’t it?”
I mean, I guess it’s average isn’t the way to boast about his dick, so instead,
Izumi lets himself gloat. Apparently, girls think it’s big and Leo is inclined
to agree, which is very delightful. “Is that what they said? Heh, good. You
wanna touch it, Milord?” He grabs for one of Leo’s hands before he replies,
pulling it down to his cock—and he regrets his choices, because he’s supposed
to be the one cool about this. Leo’s hand is warm and soft, with even the
callouses from archery and swordplay sort of muddled from high-quality oils and
lotions, and Izumi bites his lip, sagging forward, his face buried down into
Leo’s hair. “If you wanted it so badly, you should’ve just done that, you
know,” he groans. “You’re the prince, you can do whatever you fucking want.”
Leo stops breathing. He wraps his hand around Izumi’s cock, feeling out the
contours of every bit, exploring its ridges and curves with his fingertips,
dipping them low, dragging them up, letting one press at the slit in the head,
then slide down to stroke up the shaft. “It’s quite nice,” he says, soft as he
stares, almost hypnotized. His eyes flick up to Izumi’s face, sees his eyes
blown with pleasure, and he abruptly firms up his hand, stroking Izumi the way
he’d stroke himself, determined to coax every bit of pleasure out of him. “I
want to watch you lose yourself. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever
seen.”
Izumi swallows audibly, his head thunking down against Leo’s shoulder. “T-
that’s…that’s…do you want it in you or not?” he whines, his face flushing hot
at how he sounds, little better than the girls he tosses around in the hay.
It’s because it’s Leo, of course; Leo, who he’s been dreaming about since he
was ten, Leo, who he’s wanted to just kiss for years, Leo, who he’s pretty sure
has his heart and brain and every little pleasure-seeking nerve in his body
wrapped up in his hand right now. He bites down another, helpless sound, raking
his hair out of his face with one hand as his eyes flick down, watching the way
Leo’s hand moves over his cock.
Well, mistake number ten for the day.
Izumi comes with a startled, ragged gasp, spilling over Leo’s perfect, perfect
fingers, and he sags forward with a broken noise, his fingers digging into
crushed leaves as much as handfuls of Leo’s hair. “Fuck,” he curses, his eyes
fluttering hard. “You…ah…I swear…I’m not…normally this easy, it’s…it’s your
fault…” A lie, he’s usually pretty damned easy, but Leo makes it even easier.
Leo smiles, eyes almost slitted with pleasure, moving his hand up to his mouth
to take a little exploratory lick. He’s heard enough stories about how bad a
man’s seed tastes, but maybe Izumi’s father really wasn’t human and he really
isn’t a man, because his eyes close, and he sucks his thumb into his mouth with
a soft moan. The bitter musk is strong, but not unpleasant, and the idea of
what it is, what he’s got on his tongue, is so startlingly hot in his mind that
his body shudders, a fresh spurt of liquid heat splattering on Izumi’s belly.
“Did you just…fuck, lucky you,” Izumi breathlessly laughs, and he smears a hand
through the mess on Leo’s stomach, unrepentant. “Nn, Milord…take me back to
your chambers, we can hide away in there as long as you like. I want it to be
perfect for you.” Of course, any other time he’d have oil on his person, and
any other time he wouldn’t be so…hair trigger. He blames Leo entirely. What the
fuck, cherry boy.
Leo stretches, feeling as content and unconcerned as a cat who’s gotten the
cream, reaching up to tug on Izumi’s loose hair again. “You’re the one who said
you weren’t getting on a horse. Ah, it’s probably for the best, right? If you’d
taken me here, I’d have had trouble getting back on Tempo. Right? I mean, I’m
no maiden, I won’t bleed, right?”
“That was before, when I was…ugh, you’re the worst,” Izumi mutters, tugging
against the hold on his hair to slide down, dragging his tongue up Leo’s
stomach, licking him clean. “Mmn, I’ll take good care of you, you won’t
bleed…but…” Right, where was he going with that? Leo is musky and bright on his
tongue, and this was mistake number twenty, probably. Right. “But horseback
won’t be fun for a day or so.”
“Stop licking that,” Leo warns, voice husky, “or we won’t get anywhere.”
And because he wants to get somewhere, he shoves Izumi off, somehow rolling up
to his feet with a sigh, tying his breeches and pulling down his shirt. There
are leaves in his hair, and he plucks them out one by one, letting them fall
back to the forest floor. One of them is lovely, all reds and golds around the
thick veins, the length of his hand, and he saves that one, tucking it into
Tempo’s saddlebags once he gets to the road. “If we ride fast it’s only four or
five minutes, but the guards will ask why we’re in such a hurry.”
Izumi makes a face, sticking his tongue out at Leo before running it over his
lower lip as he climbs to his feet, retying and straightening himself. “Sounds
bad. I don’t want to look at anyone ugly right now.” He pauses, shoving his
hair back from his face. “You completely lost my hair tie, didn’t you. Fuck
you, Milord.”
Leo reaches into his pocket, pulling out a leather thong and passing it over.
“Fuck me,” he agrees cheerfully. “I always have one, since we were young. You
get so grumpy if you lose one.”
“Oh, thank god,” Izumi sighs, immediately tying the mess of his hair back and
out of the way. “My hair’s annoying if it isn’t out of the way, obviously.” He
reaches down, casually giving Leo’s ass a squeeze. “Well, up with you. You
might as well look like you’re in charge.”
“What’s this look like?” Leo demands, offended as he scrambles up onto Tempo’s
back, leaning forward to untie his reins from the tree branch. “I’m your
prince, bastard. Show some respect.”
Izumi pulls himself up behind Leo with a snort of amusement. “Yes, yes, Your
Highness, you’re my prince. I respect you plenty.” He slings his arms around
Leo’s waist, now rather gleefully content with being behind him and having full
access to the side of his neck. “You’re very cute if you think no judgement is
passed on who rides behind who on a damned horse, though. Ah, it’s for the
best, I suppose.”
“For the best?” Leo asks, curious. Izumi is being a brat, of course, but Leo
knows his allegiance is almost painfully loyal, dedicated and firm to his
cause. “You think it’s good that people think I’m putting your ankles up by
your ears?”
“Better they think it’s me than you.”
Leo blinks, nudging Tempo back to a fast walk, pointing him towards the palace.
He starts trying to trot, the barn-sour idiot, and Leo reins him in. “Why? What
does it matter?”
“It doesn’t, not to me. But you’re going to be king someday—and ultimately men
are stupid. They think if you’ve got your ankles by your ears that you’re
somehow less a man.” Izumi snorts, rolling his eyes. “So if word does get out
about us—it won’t, if we’re smart—I’d rather everyone that matters think that
I’m your woman than the other way around. I’m not listening to anyone disparage
you, I’ll kill them.”
“You’d be a very beautiful lady, at least,” Leo muses. Everywhere Izumi touches
him from behind, his skin prickles, hungry to respond. He nearly stops a dozen
times, hauling Izumi back into the woods for another round, and a little smile
graces his face. “I can’t believe you love me. I don’t feel like I’ve earned
it, but I want to.”
“Don’t be stupid about it,” Izumi mutters, annoyed that his face is suddenly
hot, and he reaches up to pinch one of Leo’s nipples out of revenge. “It’s not
a matter of ‘earning’ anything, but if it was, you would’ve a long time ago,
Milord.”
Leo squeaks, and slaps at Izumi’s hand. “Stop that, I’m no woman,” he hisses,
though it feels good, it feels better than good, and he adds quietly, “You can
touch that again when we’re in my room, though. It feels good…?”
“See, there it is, the mindset I was just talking about. Men like just about
everything a woman does, Milord.” But Izumi’s expression is amused, and he
behaves for now, dropping his hands back to Leo’s hips. “But they’re much more
attractive about it. Women are fine to put your dick in, but that’s about it,
honestly…”
Leo reaches back, flicking Izumi’s forehead. “None of that talk,” he warns,
with a bit of his authority in his voice. “I won’t have my knights even
thinking things like that. I want to hear respect and chivalry, bastard page.”
Izumi makes a face and leans back, hopefully out of Leo’s reach. “When has a
woman ever complained about me?” he retorts, rubbing at his forehead. “It’s her
husband, and it leads into a duel, more often than not. Don’t make me bite my
tongue even around you, Milord, I’ll go mad.”
Mollified, Leo sits back, clicking his tongue at Tempo. “How many men have you
tumbled? I won’t bother asking how many scores of women it’s been.”
“Good, because I don’t know that number.” Izumi hesitates, his fingers drumming
against Leo’s hips. “Now, are we counting handjobs, blowjobs…all of that? If
we’re just talking about going the whole way, that narrows it down a bit…”
“What’s the whole way? The arse?”
“Yes.” Izumi just barely resists sliding a hand down to grab a handful of Leo’s
for emphasis. “So is that what we’re counting? Because that’s…like…th…r….five.”
Five isn’t too many for Leo to fight, he supposes, so he relaxes, winking back
over his shoulder at Izumi. “I just want to know how many men I need to make
you forget with how good I am,” he says, as if he’s got some kind of confidence
based on having learned two days ago that men can have sex with each other.
“….Milord…..” Izumi shuts his eyes, heaving a sigh. “They were all forgettable,
I can assure you. There’s no contest already. Do you know how many times I’ve
been inside of a man?”
“Eh? Five? Isn’t that what we were counting?”
“Five times there’s been a cock in someone.” Izumi holds up a pair of fingers
in front of Leo’s face. “Twice. Twice I’ve been in a man.”
Leo’s eyes go wide. “Really? I only have to fight two men? Ha! I can take both
of them, no problem.” He turns in his saddle, raising an eyebrow. “Did you like
it, the other way? I’m glad you’ve done it, then you can tell me if I’m doing
it wrong.”
“The only wrong way to do it is to not bathe, and considering I know your
bathing schedule, that’s a nonissue,” Izumi dryly says. “I liked it—but that’s
because I’m ridiculously picky about it, and only pursued opportunities that I
knew would work out well for me. Most men are horrific, and I say this
preferring the company of them in bed tenfold.”
“Eh? You prefer them?” Leo’s brow furrows. “You’re being confusing on purpose
or I just don’t understand. Do you just like them better because you haven’t
had them as often, or because you’re like me?”
“More explanation is required before I agree to being ‘like you’, Milord.”
The tips of Leo’s ears flush pink, and for once, he’s grateful that it’s
difficult to look Izumi in the eyes while they’re riding like this. “Thinking
about lifting a girl’s skirts doesn’t make me hard,” he confesses. “Whenever
I’ve touched myself, I’ve always thought of a man touching me, not a woman. Not
even once.”
“Ahhh.” Izumi drops his chin atop Leo’s shoulder thoughtfully. “Women
specifically don’t do much for me,” he admits after a moment. “And I certainly
never think of them when I’m touching myself. It’s always men, like you. The
only reason I go after women like I do is…well, they’re far more receptive.
It’s the reaction that I like more than anything. If men would act like that,
I’d only chase men, I think.”
Leo sighs. “I wonder what it would be like, to just…have sex whenever I wanted
to. It sounds like a very nice life.”
“…Milord, I hope you realize that by acknowledging that I want to have sex with
you and you want to have sex with me, that’s basically how it’s going to be
from here on out.”
“Eh?” Leo blinks slowly. “But you’ll be sick of me, and there’s all the girls
to attend to, right?”
“Oh…oh, no, I don’t care about them, you’re misunderstanding entirely. I
literally don’t even know most of their names, why would I ever pass you up for
a woman?”
“Oh.” The idea that Izumi—Izumi—would give up his womanizing ways just because
Leo became available makes him sit up a little straighter, mouth turning up at
the corners, head held a little higher. “That’s right. You love me. Hmm, we’re
going to have to get very good at hiding it, I’m going to want to do it quite a
bit.”
“Good. Because I literally always want to, you’re going to have to beat me away
with a stick. Speaking of hiding it,” Izumi sighs, giving one of Leo’s thighs a
light pat, grateful Leo can’t see the smile trying to curl on his lips. “We
shouldn’t arrive at your chambers together. Leave me and Tempo at the stables,
I’ll put him away and then meet you. Take a bath while you wait. Not an insult,
by the way, a request that will make us both happier.”
“You’re going to have to stop ordering me around,” Leo says grumpily, hand
resting on Izumi’s, giving it a little squeeze. “Someone hearing you talk like
that will be far worse than seeing us arrive at my chambers together, they’ll
think I’m letting you put on airs. Oh…” He taps one of the bruises on the side
of his neck. “And fix these, please. The last thing I need is Father thinking
I’ve tumbled some serving maid, he’d have a hunt to find the poor trollop to
see if I’ve gotten her a bastard.”
“I talk like this with everyone,” Izumi grouses, even though he knows Leo is
right, and he pulls one hand away to brush aside Leo’s hair, admiring the
bruises he left already. “I’m just going to put them right back, this seems
like a waste of effort.”
Leo shrugs. “Get used to it. My whole life is an endless waste of
effort—putting on clothes that are too fancy, eating with nineteen forks in one
place sitting, learning a dozen bows and twenty dances. Showing up not looking
like I’ve spent the night on a tavern floor is one of them, so if you’re going
to leave marks, you’ve got to clean them up. I…I hope you’re just complaining,
because not doing it could be really dangerous.”
“I’m just complaining, Milord. Aren’t you lucky that you’ve fallen for a
forbidden sorcerer? What would you do otherwise?”
It’s not strictly necessary to put his mouth on those marks again, but Izumi
does in a series of kisses, each lingering, tingling touch healing up those
bruises in short order. “There you go, good as new,” Izumi sighs, briefly
closing his eyes to stave off the sudden, annoying headache. “Ahh…I hate that,
especially because I’m going to want to put more…”
Leo puts a hand to his neck, tracing where Izumi’s mouth had just been, feeling
the skin tingle as if he’d rubbed it with wintermint. “My wintermint knight,”
he says fondly, a little smile on his face. “Giving me healing kisses to take
away the rest of his kisses. That’s a cycle I don’t mind being in.”
“Not a knight yet, Milord,” Izumi murmurs, squeezing Leo about the waist.
“Hurry up and become king. Then I can be on my knees in front of you publicly
all the time…for one reason or another, heh.”
Leo leans back, taking that comfort before they pass the palace gates, the
guards waving him through on the basis of his hair alone. “Careful of your
words, my love,” he murmurs under his breath. “Wishing for me to be king could
sound like wishing for my father to die. And we all know you’re his favorite
person already.”
“I thought that was a very diplomatic way of saying it. I suppose this country
squire still has a great deal to learn.” Izumi doesn’t push it further and
instead holds his tongue, because Leo calling him ‘my love’ is more than enough
to temper him for the time being. How embarrassing. He sighs to himself, cheeks
faintly flushed and hands jittery. “Everyone’s going to think I’ve been finally
whipped by some woman. How annoying.”
“It’ll be a good excuse for why you’re not flipping every skirt in the Capitol
anymore,” Leo teases, feeling a warm little glow in his chest, creeping up to
his neck. No, he’s got to get this under control—but how, when every word out
of Izumi’s mouth makes him feel like a lovesick maiden, finally sent a
thornless rose? “I’ll send you embarrassing flowery missives that you’ll have
to open in front of everyone at breakfast, they’ll all wonder who your mystery
mistress is.”
“Don’t you dare. There’s a trail attached to that sort of thing, someone could
find out it’s you and then what will we do?” Izumi opens his mouth, wanting to
say more on the topic of not flipping every skirt anymore, but that’s a
surefire way to ruffle Leo’s feathers, judging by how jealous he was of a mere
stableboy. “I have a reputation to uphold,” he says with a sniff instead.
“Let’s not destroy it.”
“No, no, they won’t know it’s me!” Leo insists, enjoying the idea now. “I’ll
invent a whole identity—I’ll be some winsome minor country Lady—ooh, I’ll be a
widow—and I saw your face at court and of course fell immediately in love with
you—I’ll be Lady Elessandara of, hmm, I’ll figure out where she’s from later,
and she’s working up the courage to marry a younger man—“
“Milord, I’m telling you…” Izumi trails off on a long sigh, reaching around Leo
to grab Tempo’s reins and steer him towards the front of the stable. “Forget
it, we’ll talk about our methods of keeping this under wraps later. Off with
you, I’ll deal with your horse like a real attendant while you go get pretty
for me.”
“Are you saying I’m not pretty enough already?” Leo asks archly. “I’ll make
myself very clean for you, though. That’s what you really mean, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Yes, that’s what I mean. I’m squeamish and fickle, take that knowledge
and run with it.”
Leo laughs, reaching back to pinch Izumi’s thigh before sliding off Tempo,
giving the horse’s withers a pat. “Did you make your stableboy clean up before
you grabbed him?” he teases. “Or is that only for princes?”
“I didn’t put my mouth or cock anywhere near where it matters,” Izumi bluntly
says, hopping off of the horse in short order and pulling the reins over his
head. “And I certainly didn’t lick my hand clean after shoving it down his
pants. I’ve already broken a few of my own rules because it’s you, Milord.”
“Good. Break them all, I’m worth it.” They’re in public, so Leo winks instead
of giving him a kiss, darting off towards his chambers.
Unfortunately, one of his father’s advisors catches him, dragging him kicking
and screaming into a stupid consultation meeting about Kalum Island building
warships, which turns into a three-hour meeting on effective spy deployment. By
the time he escapes, it’s long dark, and he scrubs himself down resentfully,
finally making his way back to his (doubtlessly empty) quarters to flop
facedown into his bed.
It seems like a dream, that Izumi had confessed his love, touched him, wanted
to be his.
“This is the kind of security your guards offer you?” An oil lantern flickers
on next to a chair on the other side of the room, and Izumi stares over at Leo,
chin in hand, unimpressed. “Not even checking your room before you enter? I
didn’t even have to hide, that’s entirely unacceptable.”
Leo starts up, twisting around to sit up in shock, staring at Izumi as if
unable to believe that he’s real. “Are you a spirit?” he accuses. “If I
confront a spirit about being a spirit, it fades.”
“No, Milord, just a very bored page.” Izumi stifles a yawn behind one hand as
he pulls himself to his feet. He obviously has bathed recently as well, his
hair down and fluffy save for a pair of tiny braids pulling his hair back from
his face on either side, and there’s little trace of clothing that would make
him look like anyone’s squire or knight, considering his sword is unbuckled. “A
bored page that apparently has to scold your entire staff about not protecting
you properly…I say, as if they’d pay attention to me. It was convenient this
time, but not desirable.”
He leans his sword against a table next to Leo’s bed, and casually drops
himself onto the mattress, sinking back with a sigh, his eyes fluttering. “Even
noble ladies don’t have beds like this…you could have wooed me with this
alone.”
Leo sits back on his heels, fluttering his lashes. “Comparing me to a noble
lady as if there’s any comparison,” he sniffs. “I’m far higher born, you know.
My bed is softer, my room better appointed, and my legs harder to part for
wayward rogues.”
“Ahh, so now I’m a wayward rogue?” Izumi rolls onto his side as he makes
himself at home in Leo’s bed, sticking out his tongue. “Good. I’ll take your
honor before I leave, then. Come kiss me, Milord, you kept me waiting and cold
for hours and I’m inclined to sulk.”
Leo crawls close, threading his hands through Izumi’s hair, settling his knees
onto either side of Izumi’s hips, eyes intent and hungry. “Your prince forbids
you from sulking,” he breathes, hands fisted in Izumi’s hair like silver
threads. “When he tried for hours to get to you, and cleaned himself for
you...and still can’t believe that you’re real. Make love to me.”
“You still can’t believe I’m real?” Izumi teases, smoothing his hands down
Leo’s back, stroking down his hips before curling lower to grab handfuls of his
ass and squeeze. “But I’m right here. You’re so soft, Milord, how charming.”
He rolls them before Leo can complain about the teasing, and buries his face
into Leo’s neck, quickly kissing and biting to leave one of the marks he had
wanted there earlier once more. He nestles between Leo’s thighs, a content,
rumbling sound leaving his throat. “Knowing that you’ve touched yourself
thinking about me in this very bed…I like that.”
“Over and over,” Leo admits shamelessly, letting his thighs part, rocking up
already, desperate for some of that beautiful friction he’d had earlier, hungry
for Izumi’s touch once more like he’d had it in the woods. “Everywhere, I’ve
touched myself so many times wishing it was you...tell me what to do, I want
you.”
“Just relax, I’m taking care of you, remember?”
Big words from someone trying not to come off as jittery and overstimulated
already. It’s not like Leo’s some throw-away woman—it’s Leo, and Izumi draws
back with a huff of breath, yanking a pouch off of his belt. “Strip,” he softly
orders, giving Leo’s shirt a gentle flip upward. “Have you ever put your
fingers inside before?” Honestly, he never expected the prince to want that
from him—the other way around, definitely, but…
Leo nods, eyes wide as he strips, tossing his shirt and breeches to the side.
“A couple of times. Only with the door and window locked, I was so sure someone
would come in. It...” He bites his bottom lip, splaying out like an offering,
letting his naked skin brush against the coverlet. “I’m sure it’ll feel better
when you do it, I think I was doing it wrong.” He must have been, because it
hadn’t felt good at all, reminding him of unpleasant sensations and too-much
tightness.
“Mm. Probably. It’s hard to do it yourself.” Izumi licks his lips as his eyes
drag down Leo’s body, and his fingers fumble with the ties of the pouch before
he pulls out a little bottle of oil. His belt hits the floor after that, and
Izumi uncorks the bottle with his teeth. “Turn over, Milord, and get
comfortable. I promise I’ll make it feel good this time.”
Leo almost objects--he has plenty of scented oils, plenty that Izumi couldn’t
even hope to get his hands on without a royal title--but Izumi seems to know
what he’s doing, and maybe this is a special kind, a special brand, like the
specialty bread flour his father’s kitchens buy. He turns over, grabbing a down
pillow to hug it, feeling a bit less vulnerable now that Izumi can’t see his
face. It’s also sort of exciting, knowing that he can’t see Izumi, but Izumi
can touch him at any time, that he’s so open and displayed to Izumi’s eyes, and
he shifts, wiggling his ass up and down. “Do you look at me?” he asks softly.
“Like men look at women, when they see a girl and think what she’d look like
with her skirts up around her ears? Do you look at me and think what it would
be like to touch me? I look at you like that.”
“Both,” Izumi admits with a snort of laughter, leaning over Leo from behind to
brush his hair aside and kiss the back of his neck. The oil drips over his
fingers, more or less scentless, but thick and slippery, and he grabs one of
Leo’s hips to still him when he drags a pair of fingers down the cleft of his
ass. “But mostly the latter,” he breathes, planting an open-mouthed kiss to the
curve of Leo’s shoulder. “And I’m about to know what it’s like to touch you
inside, Milord. Mnn, take a deep breath and relax, it’ll slide in nice and
easy.”
In theory, at least—Izumi is grateful his fingers are long and slender, which
makes it much easier to let the first one sink inside, in spite of Leo being
achingly tight. It takes Izumi’s breath away, and he shifts closer, wasting no
time to press his finger in to the second knuckle and curl it inside, seeking
and stroking. “There you go. You’re so hot in here, Milord…”
Ah. That feels very different from doing it himself, for certain.
Leo tastes wet silk, and realizes he’s bitten into his pillow, some of the down
feathers pricking against his tongue. The sensation of Izumi’s fingers pressing
against him, then in him, is enough to make his whole body tense, and they’re
in so deep that he feels tears prickle at his eyes. He pants, trying not to be
a brat about it, trying not to simply order Izumi to take them out immediately
and get on his hands and knees instead if he likes it so much. “That’s...ah,
they’re in so deep,” he whines, feeling his sweat soak into the pillowcase.
“That’s--Nnh, it’s so...”
It’s so tight and so much, but he fears that if he says that, Izumi will think
he’s complaining, and he’ll stop. He’d rather take Izumi’s whole sword up his
ass than risk that.
“No good yet, huh?” Izumi wryly translates, his voice gentle, sympathetic for
once, and he runs his other hand down Leo’s back, stroking along the arc of his
spine, rubbing into the tension there as he pulls out his hand, just enough to
squeeze a second finger in. It’s tight, so tight, and he’s thankful for that
oil easing it along, just a little. “Just…mm, trust me, what about here?” He’s
probably got the right angle now, especially when he can twist his wrist and
curl his fingers back towards himself, stroking slowly.
At first, Leo isn’t sure what Izumi means by what about here, not when
everything is so tense, stretched to the point that he feels as if he’ll tear
any second. The feeling inside him is thick, uncomfortably full, and then Izumi
curls his fingers, and his world changes.
One fingertip grazes over something he hadn’t known was inside of him, and he
shouts, pitching forward, head smushed against his pillow as he keens, high and
breathy and needy, not recognizing his own voice. He tries to talk, but his
voice doesn’t work, and he shoves back mindlessly, demanding that feeling
again.
“Theeere we are,” Izumi breathes, his eyes alight as he leans forward, pressing
his fingers in deeper, pressing and rubbing at that same spot again and again.
“That’s it, Leo, good boy—“ Never, ever did he think he’d be saying something
that to Leo, and his own face flushes hot, the jolt of arousal that drags
straight to his cock making him shudder. “Be good and keep your voice down, or
I’ll stuff something else in your mouth to make you be quiet.”
“I’m, ah, gods of my fathers, what is that--I’m trying, I swear, I’m--”
Leo gulps for air, holding onto his pillow for dear life. He tries to nod, but
all of his energy goes towards his urgent rocking back, mouth falling open when
Izumi touches him like a pliant doll. No--like a cherished doll, like something
that Izumi wants to hold on to and never let go, and that realization makes
Leo’s cock ache. “I’m gonna--are you close, because I’m--”
“You can come a few times, don’t worry about me,” Izumi dismisses with a laugh,
dragging his fingers slowly back to drip more oil over them before sliding them
back in deep once more, stroking, practically petting Leo from the inside out.
“Go ahead and get this one out of your system. You’re so pretty like this,
Milord.”
Leo shakes his head firmly, fingers sinking into the pillow. “Go back to
calling me Leo,” he pleads, eyelids fluttering when Izumi slides his fingers
back in. “N-no one calls me that, it’s intimate, it means you love, you love
me, I’m--”
He can’t even get the sentence out, and bites his pillow again, face screwed up
in overwhelmed pleasure when Izumi strikes inside of him again, and again,
driving him mindlessly into ecstasy, spending himself all over the coverlet,
arching up until his nipples drag against the sleek fabric.
“Fuck,” Izumi curses helplessly underneath his breath, his lips parted and
mouth dry as he watches Leo come, arching and writhing just from the simple
touch of his fingers. His own cock is so hard that he’s fairly certain his eyes
are crossing, and he feels himself tremble, his hands shaking as he pets and
soothes Leo through his orgasm.
So help him, he can’t wait.
Izumi carefully draws his hand out, wiping it on the coverlet before he yanks
his own shirt up and off of his head. He doesn’t have the time to kick his way
out of his breeches, just to unlace them, and even that makes his breath come
too fast, too hard. “Come here,” he groans, flipping Leo over and dragging him
closer by the hips until those pretty, soft thighs splay to either side of his
hips, and the hard bulge of his cock presses against him, twitching every
single time Leo as much as breathes. “Leo,” Izumi murmurs obediently, lurching
forward to kiss him, sucking on his lower lip as his hands drag up to play with
and gently pinch his nipples. “Leo, you did so well, you look so good like
this, but I’m gonna die if I’m not inside you, you know…”
Leo’s head shakes side to side, and he reaches up, boneless and eager, dragging
Izumi down for a hot kiss, tasting Izumi’s mouth over and over until he
collapses back, breathless. His body feels like it’s singing, like it’s
ringing, and he hears his own voice humming a snatch of a melody as he dips a
hand down, dragging it through the mess on his stomach, reveling in the
feeling, in the filthiness of doing something like this where Izumi can watch
him be lewd.
But then, Izumi is between his legs and saying his name, so anything is fair
play, as far as he’s concerned.
“I’d command you as your prince,” he says softly, squeezing his thighs around
Izumi’s waist. “But I’d rather ask you as your lover.” It’s going to hurt, he
knows, but he’s a prince of the realm, and he is not afraid, not of something
he’s wanted for years. He reaches down with his sticky hand, wrapping it around
Izumi’s cock, guiding the tip to catch on his hole, then looks up to catch
Izumi’s eyes. Ice blue surrounds him, and he murmurs, “Come inside, my love.
Make me yours.”
Ah, I’m going to die, Izumi dazedly thinks, his eyes fluttering just at the
touch of Leo’s hand, never mind how hot he feels just like this. “I’ll teach
you how it fits inside of you,” he breathlessly promises, amazed he’s able to
put together any words at all, amazed more that he’s able to shakily grab for
the bottle of oil, dripping the last of it over Leo’s fingers and cock alike.
It helps—maybe. It’s something, especially when Leo is still so tight and tense
and trembly. Izumi would tease him, but he can do that later, when his cock
isn’t so hard and he’s not so desperate to be inside.
The head sinks inside with a soft growl of effort leaving Izumi’s throat, and
his fingers drag down to grip at Leo’s hips, holding him when he gives into the
urge to just shove forward, to bury himself in that unrelenting heat, until it
feels so vice-tight and hot around him that he sags forward, panting into Leo’s
neck. “H…hold onto me, love,” he groans, his voice rough around the edges, and
Izumi grits his teeth against the desire to be anything but slow and careful.
If I hurt him, I’ll actually kill myself. He can feel his cock throbbing,
dripping inside, and he can’t seem to catch his breath because of it.
“You’re…ahh..fuck, no other man or woman alive feels as good as you do, you’re
going to be the death of me…”
Izumi pushing into him is tense, uncomfortable, over-full, cramping...and not
nearly as bad as he’d been expecting. Leo lets out a huff of relief, arms
winding around Izumi’s neck, pulling him down for another kiss. His body moves
on its own, arching up, moulding against Izumi’s, moving with him like he moves
with his horse during a canter. He breathes, and the ache eases a little, and
he can more fully focus on how it’s Izumi, how there’s a thick lovely cock
inside of him, pressing and dragging against his most sensitive parts.
More than anything, he’s excited, sliding his hands down Izumi’s back. Izumi is
lost, Leo can tell, and that makes him feel powerful, makes him feel alive,
makes him squirm down and clench when he feels like it’ll help, wanting Izumi
to lose himself completely. Everything smells good and feels slick, and Leo
traces patterns on Izumi’s back with his nails. “You’re in so deep,” he
breathes, mouth next to Izumi’s ear, teeth catching on his earlobe.
“Izumi...this is where you belong, you know? I’m never letting you leave...”
“Ahh, thank god,” Izumi manages with a wet, ragged laugh, because those are the
words of someone who doesn’t hate it. He shivers down to his toes courtesy of
Leo’s mouth, courtesy of the scrape of his nails against his back, and he
scoots his knees up closer, bracing himself as his hands dig into the bed, his
arms shaking when Leo clenches down around him like that. “You…are you sure you
haven’t…done this before?” he gasps, helplessly shoving forward, clawing a hand
up to grab onto Leo’s headboard for more leverage to thrust in deep. God, it’s
so much easier now that Leo relaxes and moves with him, and the slick, hot
slide of it makes his eyes glaze. “Maybe you’re right, Leo, maybe I just need
to be in you all the time—“
Leo tries to answer, but even the smallest flex of Izumi inside of him makes
him whine, and he drags his nails down Izumi’s back again, thighs trembling as
he wraps them tightly around Izumi’s waist. “Keeping you inside,” he agrees,
eyes dark with lust and hunger. He’d swear he can feel Izumi as far inside as
his chest, and he shifts on the bed for more leverage, rocking with him,
squeezing down, gasping when that makes his vision go gray at the edges. “J-
just--spill in me until you give me an heir, lock me up like your woman and let
me have you like this all day--aah, look how hard talking like that is making
me, h-help, I’m so full--”
Who taught you to talk like that in the first place?! Izumi frantically thinks,
even as he’s grabbing up handfuls of Leo’s ass to pull him down against him, to
shove in harder, deeper, to thoughtlessly fuck him now when neither of them
seem capable of having enough. “I’m about to fill you up even more,” he
promises on a ragged, panting breath, a hand dragging down towards Leo’s cock,
but getting distracted with the juts of his hipbones, the way his abdomen
flexes and hollows out when Izumi’s cock slides in so deep that there’s no
space left between them. “It’s so far in you—I wonder—if I spill enough inside
of you, will I be able to f-feel that here—“
Izumi bites into his own lip, tasting blood to silence himself when he comes
hard, his vision whiting out when he spills. He swears he can feel every throb
of his cock all the way to the tips of his fingers, trembling when he feels Leo
grow slicker inside when he mindlessly grinds forward just to milk out every
single spasm that rakes through him. “You…gods, Leo, I…” Eloquence is nota
necessary thing, Izumi dazedly thinks, when he has his cock buried in his
prince like this.
Leo’s hands relax, going from clawing to petting, running gently through
Izumi’s sweat-damp hair. “I’d do anything for you,” he whispers, eyes closed to
let himself really feel the slick swell of Izumi inside of him. It still makes
him pant, chest heaving with every pulse. “I’d rip the world apart for you.”
“Don’t, I like the world right now,” Izumi groans, his voice muffled when he
buries his face down into Leo’s hair, blindly reaching down to curl his fingers
around Leo’s cock, feeling it hot and heavy in his palm. “I’d offer to take
care of this with my mouth, but…mmn, what was it? I’m not allowed to ever pull
out?”
Leo’s mouth parts, and he hears his breath catch, rutting up against Izumi’s
hand. “Just...use your hand,” he urges. “And talk, talk to me, use your silver
tongue, please, I’m close just because you’re in me...”
“You’re going to spoil me by being so easy,” Izumi sighs gratefully, shifting
to make sure his cock stays inside, his hips pressed firmly to the curve of
Leo’s ass, and his fingers take their time squeezing, stroking. “You act like a
mare in heat, Milord.” Using Leo’s actual name is appropriate maybe 90% of the
time, but right now…teasing, formal address is necessary. “The way you move
against me—it’s like you’ll die if you don’t have it in you. Maybe I should
take you back out to the stables and fuck you right in the hay, just like a
stallion taking what’s his.”
“H-how dare you?” Leo gasps. The words aren’t the loving, sinful ones he’d
thought he’d hear, but something far darker, far more bestial, and his cock
responds by spilling immediately over Izumi’s hand, making him shiver and groan
in Izumi’s arms. “I, why did, I’m no mare in heat, I should have you tossed out
the window, do it again.”
Izumi stifles a laugh into the curve of Leo’s shoulder, and plants a warm, wet
kiss there. “I get that a lot,” he teases easily, pulling his hand away and to
his mouth instead. One lick reminds him that earlier wasn’t a pipe dream, and
Leo still tastes far better than a man should, making him shiver and suck each
finger clean. “Mmn, you didn’t specify which silver tongue, so you ended up
with my preference. Why do you taste so good, what the hell are princes made
of.”
“The good wishes of our subjects, according to my father,” Leo says serenely,
stretching out and wriggling his toes, mouth slack at the aftershocks of
tremors still coursing through his body. “Ah...I think it’s probably something
a little more base, though. Where did you get those filthy words, anyway?
You...you don’t really think I’m acting like that, do you?”
“Like a mare in heat? I mean, it’s an apt comparison when you’re squirming on
me like that,” Izumi teases again, flopping down once he’s satisfied licking
his hand clean, and nuzzles his face affectionately into Leo’s neck. “They’re
just words, Leo. If it gets you off, what’s the harm? I don’t really think
you’re going to get knocked up, for example, but if I say it and you like it,
then job well done.”
Leo shrugs, and goes back to petting Izumi’s hair contentedly. “As long as you
don’t expect me to actually give you a son, and you don’t think I’m really
acting in a way that’s shameful. I like being unguarded and affectionate with
you, I’d hate to think you were forming a low opinion of me.”
“Oh, no. Not in the slightest. Consider it praise, if anything, because I find
you ridiculouslyattractive.” Izumi fairly purrs underneath the petting,
relaxing enough now to butt his head against Leo’s touch as he sprawls against
him. Sex makes him honest, how unfortunate, but now it feels like it’s been a
long-time coming with Leo. “Most men would slap me for trying to talk to them
like I did with you…ahh, this is why you’re superior and so much more fun…”
“No, you’re the perfect one,” Leo insists, stroking through Izumi’s hair,
pulling a throw over both of them so they don’t get chilly, even with all this
togetherness. “Most men...I feel like if I told most men that I liked this sort
of thing, they’d think I was a bit less than them. That’s what you meant
before, isn’t it? That if we were caught, it would be better if people thought
me the ram, and you the ewe?”
“Exactly that.” Izumi can feel their skin start to stick together, and with
anyone else, he’d insist on pulling out and away…but Leo is pleasantly warm and
comfortable to stretch out against, and he’s always been good at petting his
hair, since they were young. “My reputation can take the blow. I can’t stand
for anyone to speak poorly of you, I’d kill them.”
“And if mine takes too much of a hit, it could cause a war,” Leo says softly,
though his fingers don’t stop their petting. “Father’s still looking for a wife
for me, though apparently there’s still no luck, thank the gods. If word got
around that I was...hmm. I’m sure it’s different in different places, how they
think of men like us?”
“Mmhm.” Izumi’s eyes flutter before he lets them slide shut, surrendering to
the urge to flop open-mouthed and content with Leo’s fingers dragging against
his scalp. Now he can never cut his hair, what a shame. “In some countries, men
can marry men…and I’ve been to cities outside of the capitol where it’s
perfectly acceptable for men to kiss and embrace each other, just like men and
women do here. I’ve found no one really minds if you do it here, but…they don’t
want to see it, or hear about it…and only if you aren’t a noble will they turn
a blind eye. If you’re noble-born, or anything close to it, then you’re a
waste.”
“What causes it?” Leo asks curiously, winding a strand of silver hair around
one finger. “What makes some men into women inside? A curse, maybe, or a god’s
joke?”
“Nnnn, don’t say it like that,” Izumi complains, biting down onto Leo’s earlobe
gently. “I don’t think we’re women inside, that’s a different sort entirely. I
just like men,pretty ones specifically, but they’re still men and so am I.”
Leo huffs, though he doesn’t yank away from the teeth on his ear. “Is there a
better word for it, then? You used to teach me slang when we were children,
teach me a word for a man like us.”
“…There’s no nice word for it. That’s why I never taught you that.”
Leo’s brow furrows. His voice grows quieter, and he shifts, a little
uncomfortable. “How bad is it?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. “If
someone found out...how bad would it be?”
“I wouldn’t let it get to that point.” Izumi’s voice is firm when he says that,
and he plants a kiss to the shell of Leo’s ear. “I’d tell them I seduced you
because I’m a power-hungry whore, you’d exile me back to my country estate, and
you’d still visit with your wife when you’re traveling to your summer home.
That’s as bad as it could be, and even that’s workable, if not favorable.”
Unmentioned is the loss of all of his titles to make sure Leo retained face,
but it’s implied well enough, and needs must.
Leo sighs. “I suppose that’s all I could hope for. Maybe when I’m king I’ll
have it declared tolerable, like my great-grandfather did with having
mistresses as long as they’re high-born widows. Nnh, I love this, but it’s
starting to sting, and I think I may have to, ah...” He ducks his head, a
little embarrassed, and darts a look at the lavatory at the end of his room.
“Inevitable,” Izumi sighs, and he gingerly, carefully shifts, pulling out and
making a face at the sticky mess that follows. “Go, I’ll change the bedding and
clean up here.  If you’re terribly sore, let me know, I’ll see what I can do.”
“You’re not kissing me there,” Leo warns, then pauses, thinking it over.
“I...think. I think that would be weird.” Then he shrugs, and makes his way to
the lavatory, wincing as his legs move and tug in ways he’s very much not used
to. “This is very odd,” he calls from behind the curtain, as his insides
rearrange themselves. “Does it get more normal after time? If I do it a lot?”
“More or less,” Izumi calls back, wiping himself clean and tugging his clothes
back on and into place, just in case. Looking more or less ‘normal’ and ready
to jump out the window at any point is a useful thing, no matter how much he’d
like to be able to completely relax. He strips the top coverlet off, making
sure nothing soaked through, before wiping it down to destroy most of the
evidence (maids needn’t know his prince’s nighttime activities) and then
folding it up to be put in the morning’s laundry. “You get used to it. Just be
grateful I’m not particularly large, that can cause some issues.” He pauses,
folding down another blanket onto the bed. “You know I don’t have to kiss you
to do it, right? I just did that every time because then I had an excuse, heh.”
“What?”
 Leo finishes wiping up, throwing the soiled cloths down his clothing chute,
scowling as he reemerges. “All of those kisses were lies? I had my first wet
dream about those kisses!”
Izumi drops down onto the foot of Leo’s freshly made bed, batting his eyelashes
innocently. “How else was I supposed to kiss you and get away with it? Being
magical is awfully helpful at times, Milord. But go on, tell me about your
first wet dream, was my hair up or down?”
“What if I said it was wrapped around my cock?” Leo retorts. It wasn’t his
first dream, though it was a memorable one.
A snide comment dies on Izumi’s tongue, and he snaps his mouth shut. “Then I’d
say I’m interested. I have kept it long for you, I hope you know.”
Leo smirks, leaping back onto the bed, nuzzling up against Izumi’s ear, as
affectionate as a cat in her first heat. “Good. Do everything for me. Give me
your whole life, and do as I say forever.”
“You’re a demanding lord, aren’t you?” Izumi murmurs, even as he grabs for Leo,
pulling him close and kissing him firmly on the mouth. “But I like that. I’m at
your beck and call.”
“Don’t forget it.” Leo winds his arms around Izumi’s neck, hauling himself into
Izumi’s lap, laying his head on Izumi’s chest. “I wouldn’t spread my legs for
anyone else. Oh...you said you’ve done it both ways, right? Receiving and
giving? Because I’ve got to try it that way, at least once.”
“Any time you want.” Izumi flops backwards, dragging Leo with him, and promptly
wraps all four limbs around him. “Confession time, I suppose,” he wryly begins.
“With men, I’ve always preferred it the other way—receiving, I mean. There’s
really nothing enjoyable about putting it in a man when I can do the same with
a woman and it’s easier for everyone, you know? Or so I would have said prior
to what just happened ten minutes ago. You’ve broken me, as expected.”
Leo preens, rubbing against Izumi’s hands. “As expected for the prince you’ve
sworn your life to. I’ll have all of your erections, they’re mine.”
Izumi’s eyes roll, and he yanks one of the blankets over them. “Let’s see if
you can keep up with me, Milord. I have my reputation for a reason.”
“Exactly. You’re worn-out. I’m fresh. You’ll have to work to keep up with me,
wahaha!”
“Uh huh. Let’s see who can ride comfortably tomorrow and we’ll have this
conversation again.”
“Unfair comparison, I’m the one who got a cock up my arse. We’re doing it the
other way next time and then having a riding competition, Sir Experience.”
“Yes, yes, as if I’ve never had to go out riding after riding something else
the night before. My prince is very adorable.”
“My bastard page is about to be very boxed around the ears,” Leo grumbles, and
pulls the blanket over Izumi’s head.
“Don’t do that, it might make me hard again.”
“Is there anything that doesn’t make you hard?”
“Nothing you could do, unfortunately.”
“Well! Then my life is doomed to be erotic suffering.”
“Get used to it, Le~o,” Izumi sing-songs, dragging Leo’s head underneath the
blanket with him to kiss him once more. “You signed up for this.”
Leo grins, green cat’s eyes slitted in the darkness. “Oh, no,” he says, in mock
horror, and dips his head down lower. “Whatever will I do?”
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
“It’s no use scowling at me, boy. You’ve brought this life on yourself. If you
didn’t want to have this kind of reputation, you should have kept your head
down and kept working. But instead, everyone thinks of you as a brawler, a
lawless, reckless idiot from the country backwoods. No one will ever want to
work with you, and you’ll wind up with no name and no place. Your problem is
that you’re ungrateful, boy. Many men would die to be in your position.”
It’s been some variation of the same tirade since they’d left the palace. Sir
Arashi holds his back straight, eyes glittering under a fall of yellow hair
streaked with brown, riding gloves tight on his hands. His horse, a snow-white
fancy beast called Neigh, looks about to break into a parade trot at any
moment.
They pass through the city streets, leaving the palace in their shadow, facing
the haunting silhouette of the Westerlands. Arashi’s voice carries to the folks
in the marketplace, as if he’s making no effort to keep it quiet. “That
attitude of yours isn’t going to get you anywhere in the Westerlands, boy. You
think the Inglings will be impressed with some country bastard who thinks he
can swing a sword, and thinks it’s funny to bully people younger than he?
They’ll eat you alive and spit out your bones. Head up when I’m talking to you,
boy, you brought this on yourself.”
Izumi is going to grind his teeth straight out of his own head.
His hands are tight on Vale’s reins, and the tension makes the horse restless,
irritably sidestepping when he’d normally be calm and unfazed by his
surroundings. He feels ready to burst into a full-blown gallop at any moment,
and Izumi has half the mind to let him, to free himself from this obnoxious
prison once and for all.
You’re practically the same age as me! You can’t tell me what to do! Izumi had
checked. He had needed to know, because Arashi, in spite of his youth, has a
title, has land, has enough of it to flaunt it over his head and snatch him
away from the capitol instead of being sent home in disgrace, court access
wholly revoked.
If he wasn’t waiting, if he wasn’t sure waiting was the right choice, he
would’ve been a knight by now, and the strongest, deadliest one in all the
land.
It’s moot to fume about that now. It’s moot when he has to trail behind this
fruitcake, this obnoxious knight that makes Izumi’s teeth set into a permanent
grind while his head still pounds from the lingering effects of a cold that has
haunted him since a long, agonizing night in the stables while being on foal
watch. Maybe if he just keeps his mouth shut, maybe, maybe this will be
something he can tolerate for the next few weeks if it means he’s not sent away
entirely.
Vale tosses his head, irritated that he’s irritated, and stumbles in the
process. Izumi can still feel his unhappy favoring of his front right. Sorry.
I’ll do something about it later, it’s not like I could leave you behind.
“Young country nobles need to learn their place, you know. You can’t just go
about laying into your betters with that strong right arm of yours and expect
to get off with no consequences.” Arashi’s voice is deep and confident, and he
nods at the ladies who pass by, drawing just as many glances from the girls as
Izumi, giving him some competition for once. He returns each flutter of a
handkerchief with a cordial nod, and at least two women faint in the streets.
The streets widen, and Arashi’s lecture slowly fades away with the crowds. An
hour later, they’re through the gates, and Arashi changes. His posture grows
less rigid, he brushes his hair back into a tie, and he opens the laces of his
shirt, letting it hang rogueishly open. Last, his voice changes, high and
lilting as he lets out a laugh. “Chin up, darling boy. You look so sad, don’t
make me pinch you to get you to squeak!”
“Are you possessed?” It’s the first thing that comes to mind and the one thing
Izumi can’t bite his tongue about, not when Arashi is suddenly acting so
ridiculous.Izumi isn’t sure what he hates more—being scolded nonstop by someone
trying to throw their weight around, or…or this, reminiscent of a country
accent he’s beaten out of his own tongue, with all the flirty airiness of men
in districts Leo isn’t allowed to hear about. His scowl won’t fade, and he
gives Vale his head a bit more, which lessens the stiltedness of his gait,
somewhat. “Touch me and I’ll cut your arm off. I’m not here because I want to
be.”
“Oh, lighten up. We’re not in the city anymore, you know.”
Arashi twists a bit, plopping a specially-made pad in front of him to let him
ride sidesaddle on Neigh, facing Izumi with a cheeky grin. “I thought you were
all about breaking rules, or why else did I have to pluck you out of there like
a hot nut out of the fire?”
“I wasn’t breaking any rules this time.” Izumi’s lips purse into a tight line.
“But no one wants to hear that.”
His gloomy demeanor is broken by an abrupt sneeze, and he sniffs hard, biting
back a groan of misery as he pulls out a handkerchief and blows his nose. “I
wish I had gotten sent home,” he bemoans. “I want to die.”
“Better to die than be sent home, I’d say. What’s wrong with you, hmm?” Arashi
sits back, one arched brow slightly furrowed. “I thought you were just upset
because the king scolded you, but I’ve heard you’ve been scolded lots of times
while I’ve been away. Ahh, you were just a snot-nosed brat the last time I rode
out with my old master--but you’re snot-nosed right now, aren’t you?”
“Because I’m still sick, you shitty bastard, stop pointing it out!” Izumi
snarls, finally losing his sense of humor entirely and dropping any and all
pretenses of speaking formally. He wipes his nose once more, sniffing as he
stuffs his handkerchief away. “I—“ Don’t give a fuck what the king has to say
about me, he can go rot. No, bite it back, bite it back. He doesn’t know this
man, not well enough to vent his frustrations that won’t ever come to fruition.
“I don’t care if I get punished for doing something wrong, I expect it,” he
mutters, staring down at his gloved hands. “I didn’t do a damned thing wrong
this time, though. This is bullshit.”
Arashi clucks his tongue, shaking his head as he pats Neigh’s neck, reassuring
the big mare that he doesn’t mean it for her. “What you did wrong was losing
your temper, from what I heard. Did you seriously think it would be forgiven if
you punched a blooded knight in the face? You’re not even a real squire. Are
you stupid? Seriously, is there something besides mucus in your brain?” Unlike
most knights, he doesn’t follow his questions with And keep a civil tongue in
your head or I’ll cut it out, because what fun would that be?
“Some blooded knight he was, storming into the stables and grabbing the first
horse that struck his fancy. That wasn’t his right, nor was insisting any of
the boys there had to help him with the damned animal when it wouldn’t listen
to a word he was saying—out of good sense, obviously.” Izumi sniffs again,
fighting back the urge to sneeze once more, and he distracts himself by giving
Vale’s shoulder a pat. “Vale knew he was a piece of shit, too. He got involved
even before I did, and all I did at first was come out—while I was sick—to
catch my horse. That ‘blooded knight’ shouldn’t’ve tried to take a crop to a
perfectly good horse in front of me. He deserved a punch to the nose, more, if
I had had my sword on me.”
“You’re making it hard for me to tell you that you’re an idiot,” Arashi warns
him, “because damned but it sounds like I’d have done the same thing. Now, let
me ask you, though. What do you think would have happened to me if I’d punched
that stuffed-up little blight in the face? Nothing. I’m a knight, and a knight
with a huge estate and a high title, and a reputation for killing lots and lots
of Inglings. What would have happened to your friend the stableboy if he’d done
it?”
“You’re telling me what I already know.” Izumi glares over at him. “Why do you
think I did it instead? I wouldn’t be executed on the spot. Everyone thinks I
lost my temper, but I knew exactly what I was doing, so tell me I’m an idiot
again, go on.”
“If you knew what was going to happen and you did it anyway, fine. But you knew
what was going to happen and did it anyway, and now you’re glowering around at
the world as if it owes you something?” Arashi rolls his eyes, then starts to
braid Neigh’s mane, a little section at a time. “Grow up, boy. Heh, though I
suppose you’re older than I am, even though you’re sooooo much less
successful.”
“I don’t think the world owes me anything. I’m pissed that every shitty knight
in the capitol is obsessed with status like you, or only there because of
blood, like the fucking idiot I punched in the face. Working hard and being the
best doesn’t mean anything, apparently.” Izumi’s expression darkens further. “I
didn’t ask for you to ‘rescue’ me, you know. If all you’re going to do is rag
on me for the decisions I’ve made, then I’ll head north to the mountains,
thanks.”
Arashi blinks slowly, then stares at Izumi as if he’s grown an extra head. The
words coming out of his mouth could have belonged to his angry past self of a
few years ago, the misguided fool. “Do you...know who I am?” he asks finally, a
little smirk playing around the corners of his mouth. “Like, more than just my
name and title?”
“No. And I don’t care about you at all aside from the fact that you have a nice
horse.”
“Ah. Well, that would explain some things.” Arashi runs the tip of his tongue
over his very clean teeth, amused. “It’s really a shame you don’t want to hear
about me, since I’m the only thing keeping you alive, and I love talking about
myself and how awesome I am.”
Izumi gives up, and takes the bait. He’s tired. “If you’re so awesome and
amazing, why did you waste time out of your incredible day to drag me off when
you clearly think I’m stupid?”
“I’m so glad you asked, Izumi darling!”  Arashi nudges Neigh closer to Izumi,
reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. “See, I’m the knight that’s known as the
one who got famous on his deeds, not just his name. And that’s why I get away
with whatever I want. Because when I was a scrapper, I stepped on a lot of
toes, and had to use whatever I could to get through. And now, I’ve got the
whole court and the King himself--well, mostly the Queen, but the King too--in
the palm of my hand, because no one is as good as I am at killing Inglings.” He
winks. “So if you want to be yourself and get your way, learn to follow a good
example. I’m the blueprint, my sweet.”
“Don’t touch me,” Izumi mutters, roughly shoving Arashi’s hand off of his
shoulder and deliberately making Vale sidestep to avoid him—which he regrets,
of course, hearing the way Vale grinds his teeth around his bit. Sorry, sorry.
Later, I’ll fix it later. “Good for you, thanks for telling me what I already
know about navigating through court.” It’s not like he can say why he’s still a
page at the ripe old age of 18, after all. That would give everything away, and
if sucking up his pride and gaining no ground for years means he can serve
directly at Leo’s side eventually, then…so be it. “I’ve never heard of you, so
how much of a good example can you really be?”
“Oh, so you spend a lot of time talking to the War Council, do you?” Arashi
asks sweetly. “See, you hang out with the court folk. I run with the ones that
get things done. And if things go well while you’re out with me this time, I’ll
introduce you. You’re welcome.”
“Why?” Izumi bluntly asks again, annoyed enough now that his stare swivels
directly to Arashi. Maybe if he thinks about it hard enough and long enough, he
can rearrange some of this fruitcake’s organs. He’s never tried, but maybe…
“You’ve made it clear you think I’m an idiot. Why waste your time helping me at
all if that’s what you think of me?”
Arashi levels an even, amused stare right at him. “Because you’re going to need
men you can trust when you’re Captain of the Kingsguard, of course.”
Izumi has long made an art of not immediately reacting when he’s accused of any
given thing, but something like this…it makes his heart pound, and he feels his
face go pale. “And suddenly, you have high hopes for me,” he curtly says
instead, a heel to Vale’s side making him lengthen his stride ahead of Arashi’s
mare. “Interesting.”
“You got angry when I called you stupid, but you obviously assume I’m the
same,” Arashi sing-songs, nudging Neigh to shift her stride, easily keeping up.
“Why else would you turn down everyone who wanted you as a squire, with you as
the Prince’s close friend? It’s a dangerous game, with the King so young and
hale, but someone’s always got to bet the long odds.”
“You’ve been paying too much attention to me and I don’t like that. It’s
creepy. You’re creepy.”
Arashi lets out a peal of laughter. “Are you kidding? I just asked all my
little spies to bring me back all the news of the prettiest boys in court every
time I’m away. That’s my whole briefing on you, that you’re lovely but so far
up His Highness’s arse that you blink and he moves his jaw.”
Izumi almost relaxes at that. Almost. “No wonder you know so much about me,
then,” he deadpans. “I’m the only pretty one there.” Except for Leo,but that
needn’t be said.
“Ah, now I know you’re too focused. Otherwise you’d have seen young Alan from
the smithy, and Lord Ekiri’s son, and there’s the baker’s boy Rin, and Earl
Rangel cuts a dashing figure, and...I could go on, but I’m not just here to
list beauties.”
“Yeah, pass. You have bad taste.” Demonstrably, across the board, except for
himself, which is making Izumi question his own looks suddenly. No, what the
hell, don’t be that kind of vain.
Arashi sighs, moving on to another strand of Neigh’s hair to braid. “A girl
likes to look at boys who look like they could break her in half, doesn’t she?
Don’t blame my maiden heart for having appetites, it’s not like I’m, I don’t
know, bedding half the girls in the palace to prove my masculinity.”
Izumi groans, his head tilting backwards. “Oh, god, you’re one of those. First
of all—cut it out. Second of all—I’m not out to prove anything. I fuck women
because of a very specific reason.”
“Yes, and it’s obvious,” Arashi says serenely. “But I was being kind and not
talking about it. Anyway, Sir Future Captain, can you actually use that sword,
or are you only a brawler?”
“Does that mean I’m being kind and not talking about how the only men that ride
a mare to battle are those that need to cover their glaring mistakes?” Izumi
sharply retorts, then fumes for a minute before snapping out, unable to stop
himself, “It’s because they’re cleaner, you bastard, and you know I’m right,
men are disgusting nine times out of ten and I’m not touching someone that
doesn’t have the decency to take a bath at least every other day!”
Arashi leans forward, making a show of covering Neigh’s ears for a moment in
mock-horror. “Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” he instructs, stroking her
lovely mane. “He just doesn’t understand, because he’s never been over the
Sharps. The Inglings, my darling boy, only ride stallions.” His eyes sharpen,
and he leans back, thumbing the hilt of his blade, looking up at the steep
mountain outlines. He nods at them, then points. “My holdings are right in
there. Ten thousand hectares, given to me by His Majesty after I’d been a
blooded knight for less than a year, because of what me and my warhorses did on
the other side. So if you want to learn something, pay attention when we get
over the Sharps. If you already know everything, feel free to stay behind at my
estates where it’s safe.”
Izumi’s teeth set into a grind again. You say that like I couldn’t do any of
it, he wants to snarl out, but it’s moot, because he’s the one that chose to
stay back and refuse every chance to go out and do what Arashi has been doing.
Not that it isn’t worth it, but—“There’s not a single thing I can learn from
you about a sword,” he finally, quietly says, and adds, swallowing down his
pride, no matter how sick of it he is, “but I’ll be paying attention in
everything else.” He pauses, and flatly adds, “Talk to me like I’m a child
again, though, and I’ll take your head and your land by myself.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Arashi lets out a sigh, urging Neigh forward. “I have no
doubt I’ll do it again, and you’ll try, and I’ll have to be awfully cruel to
teach you your place. You have quite a reputation for dueling, but this is the
Border. We’ll see how much you love standing on your own when a cadre of
Inglings decides you smell like breakfast. Just one thing.”
He squeezes his thighs, and Neigh surges suddenly ahead, blocking Izumi’s way,
and Arashi’s face settles into steel. “If you disobey my orders, or the orders
of any of your commanding officers when you’re in the field? I’ll take
responsibility for your insubordination myself. I won’t enjoy it. But I’ve had
to do it before. You don’t know what breaking ranks like that does to the
morale of soldiers, because you aren’t one yet. You’re a brat, and a prodigy,
and a fancy heir to a not-fancy estate, and the prince’s pretty friend, but
you’re not a soldier, not until I say you are. And if you leave my men in a bad
state because of your selfishness, you’ll never be Captain of a latrine
cleaning group, because I’ll hunt you, and I’ll kill you.”
“I’m not that kind of man. For the last time, I’m not stupid.” Izumi yanks Vale
to a stop, and the resultant tossing of Vale’s head, the irritated, frustrated
half-rear he gives speaks to his own foul mood. “I’ll follow your orders. I
won’t make a fool out of my prince by assuming I know everything a soldier
does. But I’m not going to lick your boots just because you think I need to be
‘put in my place’, and that’s all I have to say about that.” His mouth turns
down into a darker scowl, and he spurs Vale forward and around Arashi. “I want
to hurry up and get where we’re going, my horse is in a bad mood.”
“Sour knights make sour beasts,” Arashi recites, easily steering Neigh into a
walk next to Izumi. “Oh, that’s right, you aren’t a knight. Well, let’s see if
an old page on his very scary gelding can keep up with a fool like me on a sad
little mare. See you at the Sharps!”
With that, he leaps forward, still in sidesaddle, launching Neigh into a
gallop, which she hits at a dead run, surefooted as a mountain goat, barreling
down the road at top speed.
Vale lurches forward, obviously wanting to follow at a speed that would put the
stupid, frilly mare through her paces—but Izumi reins him in with gritted
teeth, uninterested in a contest that’s ultimately going to cost him more in
the long run. A fully lame horse is the last thing he needs. “Fuck you,” Izumi
exhales underneath his breath, letting Vale jump into a canter and nothing
more.
When he does eventually catch up, it’s less because of his own speed, and far
more because of Arashi’s lack of it. Wordlessly, Izumi pulls his horse up, and
wavers between doing something about Vale’s lameness sooner rather than later.
Arashi has too keen an eye to swallow down the bullshit of a poultice slathered
over his horse’s leg doing a damned thing, let alone so suddenly.
“That beast is dangerous! Throwing himself out of his stall like that, he
should be run through—“
“Oryoushould be,” Izumi spits, clinging to Vale’s halter with one hand, and the
halter of the pretty mare that had started all of this by being the first
choice of this ‘knight’ in the other. Her nose is bloody, courtesy of a whip
taken across it, and Vale is still unruly, jerking against his hold, balanced
precariously on a leg that’s bleeding from the scuffle, caused either by the
so-called knight or the other horse—it’s anyone’s guess.
 I should’ve broken that knight’s legs instead of punching him in the face,
just to be sure. Even his own care hadn’t completely erased the damage—he
wasn’t fast enough, there were too many people around that could have seen, how
could he have been any faster than he was?—and that’s stressful to realize.
Izumi doesn’t bother making an excuse for his lateness, and instead asks, “How
much further?”
Arashi gives Neigh’s sweaty neck a pat, rubbing it gently. “There’s a good
girl, you got to show the big strong boy your arse for a while, yes, I know
you’re happy.”
He points at a gap in the trees, no more than a few kilometers ahead at the
longest. “You see that gap? That’s the gate. I had them hide the outer gate, so
it gives us the chance to sneak up on any enemies and cut off their escape. Ah,
Northern estates don’t have traps and such set up, do they? Must be nice, to
have a peaceable area.”
“It’s nice enough.” Boring is another word for it, but most importantly, safe
is the best one of all. Not too much further, Izumi thinks, relieved, and leans
down to smooth Vale’s mane back into place. “Do Inglings have wizards?” he asks
absently. “Or something like it?”
“Hmm, not exactly. They have...well, I don’t know what they call them, but we
call them Berserkers.” Despite Arashi’s tough talk, a chill goes through him at
the mention of those creatures. “They used to be Inglings. They do some magic
thing, then turn into this hulking monster for a minute. They’re...not fun. The
best our wizards have been able to do is identify them before they turn, so the
archers can try to pick them off. But I only have two wizards and ten archers
in my company this time.”
“Mm. Good to know.” Izumi nudges Vale forward, truly feeling the falter in his
gait now, and he grimaces, leaning forward to rub his shoulder. “Yeah, I know,
I’m sorry,” he mutters aloud this time, then says, more loudly, “Sic me on one
of them at some point. We can find out if a good swordsman can kill them.”
“Aww. That’s cute.” Arashi brushes his hair back behind his ear, then rolls his
shoulder, still feeling that old ache where his scars are. “Just because they
scare the shit out of me doesn’t mean I haven’t killed any of them. I’ve helped
to bring down two. One of them killed Neigh’s sister.”
Both experiences had been nightmares, and had given him nightmares for months
afterwards, full of blood and horror. “Going up against those alone? That’s not
just stupid. That’s suicide for no reason. It’s like going up against a
volcano.”
“Good. Sounds fun.” Izumi says nothing more about it, settling moodily into
dark thoughts. Going up against a volcano sounds delightful right now—like he’s
actually doing something rather than spinning his wheels aimlessly. Maybe I
should have just kidnapped Leo and been done with this waiting game.“Lead the
way, sir, my horse has been lame this whole ride and I’d like to see to him,
thank you.”
“You’re far more polite when it comes to your horse,” Arashi notes. “And it was
a horse whose defense you came to, isn’t it? You’ve got a way with them, I like
that. We can walk them, if you want. It’s only a few minutes from here to the
last outpost, we’ll spend the night there.”
“He doesn’t deserve to suffer just because his master’s bitter,” Izumi mutters,
sliding off of Vale’s back, and sighing at the following huff of relief that
leaves his horse’s nose. “I know, I’m fat, sorry,” he grumbles, pulling on
Vale’s forelock before he crouches down, running his fingers gently over the
noticeably swollen hock. At least that touch is enough to soothe it somewhat,
judging by Vale’s surprised stomp, and Izumi ignores the throb of an immediate
headache as he straightens once more. “The higher we get in these mountains,
the more my nose dries up, at least,” he sniffs.
Arashi wrinkles his nose, then slides off his own horse, taking her gently by
the bridle. It’s bad manners to sit when someone else is standing, after all,
and he’s as surefooted as Neigh in the dim light. “The outpost is our foothills
base,” he explains. “About a tenth of my men are stationed there. See that pass
in the hills over there? Some of the Inglings have tried coming through that
way to cut off our advance before. Once, just a hundred of my men stopped a
force of three times as many Inglings with only tithe casualties.” His voice is
incredibly proud, shoulders square, head held high.
You can stop bragging at any point now. I get it already, you’re very good at
your job.Izumi bites down onto his tongue, hard, and starts leading Vale along.
“Impressive,” he says instead, trying not to sound weary. Where’s Leo’s soft
bed right about now? Ugh, he hates traveling.
I’m going to get you to smile at some point if it’s the last thing I do, Arashi
vows to himself. But first I’m going to turn you into a soldier.
 As promised, after a few minutes they reach the outer gate. Arashi holds out a
hand, on his guard as he always is outside at night, and lets out a low lilting
whistle, like the call of the nightingale.
A moment later, one returns, a sharp staccato burst. Arashi’s face darkens, and
he pulls the sidesaddle pad off of Neigh, swinging back up with hardly a noise.
“Stay here,” he warns, almost silent, hand falling to the hilt of his blade.
“Watch my back.”
Izumi hesitates, gripping Vale’s reins harder before hauling himself back onto
the horse’s back, annoyed that he even has to. Being on the back of a lame
horse is better than being on the ground, if even Arashi is on guard. He’s
unproven, not stupid.
He drapes Vale’s reins over the front of his saddle, pulling him to a complete
stop, and waits, hand curled near his own blade, eyes trained on Arashi. Pick a
different night for something stupid, he darkly requests of the universe. I
could be kissing a prince right now instead.
Neigh shows her truest talent when Arashi rides forward, and at a whispered
command, her hooves are nearly silent, picking her way delicatedly on the
softest patches of ground. Golden hair disappears in the dim light.
A few minutes later, the silence suddenly breaks with an almighty screech
wrenched out of an inhuman mouth. Wings flare, large enough that they would
have blotted out the sun if it weren’t night, only visible when a great swath
of stars goes suddenly inky black. Someone shouts an order, and a flight of
arrows takes flight with a dozen whistles, followed by a second flight less
than ten seconds later, then a third. Then they fall silent. Another order
comes, and another three flights, this time ending in another screech, this one
agonized. Moments later, the enormous wingbeats fade, trees losing their rustle
as the beast disappears over the Sharps.
Minutes later, Arashi rides back, face tense and set in grim determination.
“Sorry, not much of a warm welcome,” he sighs, and tosses over a black feather
the length of his entire outstretched arm. “Welcome to the Borderlands, pretty
page. At least we’ve got baths.”
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
“The wizard wants you.”
The words are not exactly happy in Arashi’s mouth, and it twists to say them as
he rides up next to Izumi. He wears his full uniform today, though not full
armor, brushed out and shining in the morning light. His hair is tied back in a
warrior’s tail, and he sits astride Neigh, no sign of his sidesaddle pad in
sight. The cadre of landed knights rides at the front of his column moving
westward, Izumi close to the back in some sort of confused deference to both
his status as a landed noble and yet an unblooded page. The column remains
narrow by necessity as it winds through the Sharps, all eyes focused ahead--
except those focused on the sky. But the griffons don’t fly in the daytime,
their inky feathers providing no camouflage against the blue sky, so only a few
wary archers are posted on skywatch.
Most of the men in Arashi’s column don’t wear the full uniform of the realm,
with their commander’s permission. Most wear loose, comfortable traveling
clothes, though those chosen for the outer and front ranks favor lightweight
leather armor. The archers wear their bowguards at all times, however, and
those stationed in the back with the extra mounts and food stores have opted
for the lightest supplies possible, managing the overstuffed wagons necessary
for a weeks-long expedition against Inglings.
And near the center of the column, under a traveling canvas canopy to be
protected from all sides and even from above, are the two precious,
irreplaceable wizards.
One of them, much to Arashi’s everlasting consternation, has requested Izumi.
“Head to the middle,” he orders with a sigh. There’s no helping it, after all.
“The tall one, Shu. You’re his bodyguard now.”
“His what?” Izumi had heard him just fine, but it still doesn’t stop his
eyebrows from climbing. Then, to hopefully save himself from getting slapped
upside the head courtesy of Arashi not liking the way he responds to
anything—“I think you should know, I have absolutely no experience with
wizards.” And he doesn’t particularly fancy being near them, for a plethora of
reasons that he can’t properly explain to Arashi, of all people.
“Yes. I figured. And if I had the slightest choice in the matter, you’d never
be close to him, because I only see this ending in you offending him and him
burning down the entire column.”
Izumi’s stare in return is wary. “And you don’t have a choice in this…why?”
Arashi lets out a despairing little noise in his throat. “I keep forgetting you
don’t know anything at all. You don’t argue with wizards. About anything. If
you interfere in their reality, they unravel, and their magic becomes unstable.
And Shu is the worst of them all, so just...I don’t know how else to beg you to
not be yourself, but if you don’t try, you’ll die too.”
“I’m hearing you, I’m hearing you,” Izumi grouses, fluttering a gloved hand in
dismissal. “I’ll make sure not to kill us all.” The one wizard he knew in his
lifetime wasn’t like that, but sure, fine, if that’s how they are, he’ll take
Arashi’s word for it, more or less, until proven otherwise.
May the bridges I burn light the way, he mentally deadpans as he heads towards
the center, and steers his horse underneath the canopy. How do you even address
a wizard? Probably should’ve asked that. Izumi bites down on a sigh, and bows
his head in greeting. “You requested me, Milord?”
There are two of them, and the younger, shorter one has hair that looks like
it’s made of those bird-beasts’ feathers, black and tousled and wild in the
spill of it down his back and around his face—and he makes a sound like a bird,
too, startled and unhappy as he huddles himself being the taller wizard’s back.
Shu? That was his name. Izumi cocks his head, the small glimpse he gets of the
smaller one’s face and eyes catching his interest more than he wants to admit.
Do his eyes not match?
“Don’t grab at me, Mika, can’t you see I’m listening? Honestly, I’ll spell your
hands to your thighs to keep them off of me if you ruin my robes,” the taller
one scolds, hands absently patting at the shorter one’s hair, turning around.
No surprise shows on his elegant, aristocratic face as he surveys Izumi, violet
eyes swirling, hair a vibrant rose color. He stands quite tall, though some of
that height derives from the heeled boots he wears under his robes to keep the
hems from touching the ground overmuch. Black and red drape from his shoulders,
embossed with golden swirls that seem to circle around the hems and trims like
clockwork.
Finally, after a moment of scrutiny, he folds his arms. “Well? I’ve already
approved you on the basis of your beauty. Introduce yourself properly.”
Thank god his good looks are good for something out here, too. Izumi represses
the urge to roll his eyes, and he slides off of his horse, uninterested in
being rude and blowing up everything (apparently). Except—well—his mouth
doesn’t entirely follow suit, so help him. “I thought you would’ve known who I
was, considering you asked for me specifically.”
Mika, the shorter one, glowers at him, attached firmly to Shu’s arm in spite of
his previous scolding. Yeah, those eyes definitely don’t match. That’s new.
Violet eyes wide, then narrow, and long-fingered hands grasp at Mika’s
shoulder, clutching firm with nerves. “I don’t like you at all, you’re a brute,
I can tell,” Shu declares, trying to belie his anxiety with haughty words.
“You’re obviously an imbecile, you know nothing--Mika, fetch my dolls, I need
her--”
Mika bolts away to do as he’s told, shooting a last glare to Izumi with both a
gold and blue eye, and Izumi briefly looks skyward through the canopy,
resigning himself to a day of ass-kissing or death. “Forgive me—I only assumed,
because I’ve always heard how wizards are infinitely knowledgeable.” Add in the
tiniest bit of a country accent, and maybe that’s convincing enough. “My name
is Izumi; I’m just a page, obviously I know nothing.”
Slightly mollified, Shu relaxes, letting his shoulders draw back. “Yes, well,
just see that you don’t cause too much damage to my delicate harmonies with
your vulgar existence. You’re too beautiful to be a soldier, so now you’re my
bodyguard. Just stay behind me and you won’t be hurt.”
There are a few things wrong with what Shu is saying, but Izumi focuses on the
most glaring. “…Doesn’t ‘bodyguard’ generally imply that I’m supposed to be
protecting you?”
“You really need t’stop talkin’ to my master like that,” Mika wearily pipes up
in one of the heaviest, South-country accents Izumi has ever heard, pushing the
doll in question into Shu’s arms.
It’s an honest question! Izumi wants to shriek, and maybe rip his hair out in
frustration already. That’s it. He’s decided he dislikes wizards. “I’m not
standing behind you. I’m here to protect you, no matter how beautiful you think
I am.”
A flash of hurt shows on Shu’s face, and pink fire blazes, flaring a tree
behind him into oblivion, leaving a pillar of smoking ash in his wake when he
gasps, smothering the flames with a choked off expletive. He clutches at his
doll, a porcelain miniature lady with golden ringlets, wearing her own small
wizard’s robes.
Some nearby horses whicker nervously, side-stepping under their riders. A
couple spook outright, the ones who’ve never traveled with wizards before. One
of the other bodyguards shifts, whacking the end of his stave into Izumi’s leg
with a warning glare, as if he doesn’t dare speak.
Izumi scowls, pulling on Vale’s head when the horse side-eyes Shu for a little
too long, gearing up for a mighty bolt sideways. Right. Not arguing about that
anymore. A change of tactics, then. “That’s a beautiful doll,” he settles on
neutrally instead. Judging by Mika’s shoulders slumping in relief, that’s the
right way to go about this.
Shu’s whole demeanor changes in a heartbeat, and he turns the doll around,
presenting her proudly. “Isn’t she? Milady, say hello to the nice young man.”
“Hello, Sir,” the doll says, giggling as she curtsies, turning in her kidskin
shoes on the palm of Shu’s hand.
That’s not weird or anything—but Izumi keeps his mouth shut this time,
uninterested in watching another tree go up in weirder flames. “A pleasure to
meet you, Milady,” he demures, offering the doll a bow fit for the king’s
courts. “I’ve never seen a wizard’s talents firsthand like this before.” The
king has his wizards, of course, but Izumi’s never paid them any mind; they
certainly aren’t young or handsome, for one, and they seem fairly useless in
comparison to this one.
Shu relaxes farther, tucking Milady gently into the crook of his arm, where she
blinks adoringly up at him. “Yes, well, few of them are as talented as I am, of
course. And those that are within the realm of my capabilities, you’ll
certainly never want to meet, ha! So. Tell me your talents. Why did you
resonate to my ears, hmm?”
He strides forward, looking Izumi up and down from ever angle, hand moving out
to trace the line of his shoulder, then his outseam, then down the center of
his chest. “Where are you hiding your genius?”
“Uh—“ Being abruptly touched isn’t Izumi’s favorite, and he seizes up, staring
warily up at Shu. “I, uh. I’m afraid I don’t know exactly what you mean by
‘resonate.’ Is touching me necessary?”
“You should feel honored,” Mika tosses over, settled down with a needle and
thread now, humming distractedly as he works on what looks like some stuffed
child’s toy, albeit half a dozen times creepier, with mismatched parts and
eyes.
“Right. I’m honored. But please remember I’m a page that knows nothing.”
“You,” Shu snarls suddenly, eyes flaring with unnatural light, an aura of
visible heat rising around him, “will keep a respectful tongue in your head,
and a respectful tone--do you think I’m deaf? Do you think I’m an imbecile?You
think my mind is broken, don’t you? Don’t you? Whoever told you that is a liar,
they sent me this beautiful bait as a trap to draw out my madness, didn’t they?
It was that idiot who calls himself a ‘king,’ isn’t it? Did he put you up to
it? Did he??”
“Not in the slightest,” Izumi hastily says, and unthinkingly, he reaches out,
grabbing Shu by the arm. “I think he’s an idiot, too. I can’t stand the king
and I can’t wait until him and his stupid wife are dead.” Treason, to anyone
else that hears it, but hopefully, anyone that overhears will just think he’s
placating a crazy wizard. “You can hear I’m not lying, can’t you?”
Shu’s eyes go wider still, then fade to normal, the aura of menace around him
disappearing in a second as he laughs. “Ha! Of course I can, I’m one of the
greatest wizards who’s ever lived. This is why I will tolerate you, yes, yes!
You!” he barks abruptly towards another bodyguard, the only other one under the
shaded awning. “Fetch us food and drink immediately, are we expected to starve?
If there are no fresh honey rolls, just throw mine to the dogs, the slop you
people eat will destroy my magic.”
Izumi heaves a sigh of relief, releasing Shu’s arm. Watching the bodyguard
skitter away makes relief spread through his limbs as well, and he rakes his
bangs out of his face. “Finally, someone else around here that thinks the king
is full of shit,” he mutters. “What has he done to you, if I might ask? I like
adding to my lists of reasons to be done with him entirely.”
“He thinks he’s better than I am,” Shu says with a sniff, settling onto his
high-backed chair. It’s uncomfortable, but he likes that, and he settles Milady
onto her perch by his chair’s side. “So immediately he’s the worst. But also
he’s a poor king. You’ll learn that, if you spend enough time out here on the
Border. He and his predecessors--the father, the grandfather--they’ve been
conceding ground to the Inglings in hopes of peace for decades, until that
vulgar Captain put a stop to the bleeding on the Western border. Mika, I’m
going to be talking about things that panic you, go seek out your Captain for
company.”
Mika hesitates, sparing a wary, suspicious glance between Shu and Izumi before
he snatches up his basket of sewing supplies and the stuffed creature (it’s not
really an animal, Izumi is pretty sure) that he’s working on. “If you upset my
master again, I’ll break your legs, even if y’have a pretty horse,” he lowly
threatens Izumi before pulling his cloak around himself and trotting off, head
down.
“Noted,” Izumi calls after him, bemused. “He’s friendly with Sir Arashi? I’m
surprised.”
“Yes, the Captain is quite fortunate to have my Mika’s favors,” Shu says, and
waves a hand, eyes darting sideways to make certain that Mika’s bodyguard is
following, ears pricked to listen for the sounds of Mika’s chords. They don’t
really fade from his hearing, no matter how far apart they are. That is why
Mika is superior to others, of course. “Well. You. Tell me your secret, why do
I like you?”
Izumi shrugs, and steals the chair Mika had previously been curled up into,
flopping down into it and adjusting his sword at his side. Vale relaxes as much
as he does, putting his head down to nibble on the bits of grass underfoot, and
Izumi lets him. One of them might as well get fat in the cold. “Because I hate
the king, too?” he hazards. “I’ve always thought he was piss poor at his job,
it’s good to hear someone else agrees.”
“Yes, yes, he’s getting all of his subjects killed to keep taking bribes of
peace from the Inglings,” Shu says dismissively. “That’s not it. I’m only drawn
to those with talent. Those other bodyguards out there? One has the eyes of a
hawk, a champion archer. The other is the fastest runner in half the realm,
next to the Captain. So. Why am I drawn to you, why do you resonate with me?”
“…You won’t meet a better swordsman.” It’s frustrating not to be as forthright
with his bragging out here, but Arashi has made him wary in the first week.
Feeling less that perfect sets his teeth on edge, but at least in this, Izumi
knows he’s the best. “On or off horseback. I’ve never lost a duel.”
Mollified, Shu sits back, arranging Milady’s robes. “That may be it, I suppose.
How many men have you killed? You look far too delicate to have such
experience, but I suppose that would be to your advantage, yes?”
“Some.” It bothers some people that he doesn’t keep track, but Izumi doesn’t
have time for it. “I don’t like keeping track of people that I think deserve to
die, sorry.” He shrugs, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “If it’s a duel,
though, I don’t go out of my way to kill them. It’s funnier that way.”
Shu’s mouth sets in a disapproving line. “I dislike those that kill
indiscriminately. It’s distasteful, don’t you think? You’ll improve, or I’ll
dismiss you, so that’s fine. So. Why do you dislike the king, if you truly are
a page who knows nothing of the world from some backwater country estate?”
“Because if you come from a backwater country estate to the Capitol, you can
see pretty clearly what the king spends his money and time on, and it’s not for
anything that people actually need. Also, he’s a shitty father.” Izumi’s lips
purse, and because he can’t stand it when people assume the wrong thing about
him, he has to keep going. “I don’t kill indiscriminately. I just don’t keep
track of the trash that I think deserves to die, there’s a difference. Meat
traders that slaughter horses for a quick buck, for example. They can fuck
right off.”
“Ahh, so you’re an activist, I see. Well, that’s a way to be, I suppose, and I
do like it when people believe in things.”
“Milord, forgive the interruption,” the other bodyguard says quietly, after
waiting for a break in the sentences. He ducks inside, bowing at the entrance,
avoiding eye contact with everyone, and sets out two trays of food--one,
Izumi’s full of sliced meat and local fruits; the other, Shu’s, set with five
honey rolls and a carafe of cold water. Shu doesn’t acknowledge the
interruption, merely reaching for a roll as the man ducks out of the tent
again. He nibbles on the edge, testing the freshness, then sighs in relief and
starts to eat.
“Excellent, they’ve scheduled the bakers in regards to my digestive cycle, as I
recommended.”
“…You’ve got him absolutely trained,” Izumi notes with a snort of amusement,
leaning forward to select a piece of fruit and nibble gingerly on it. Being a
picky eater never works well with traveling, unfortunately, but he’d rather
starve than eat something he can’t stand. “Do you mind if I ask a few
questions? I’ve only ever known one other wizard, and we were both children, so
I don’t think that counts.”
If anything, Shu preens under the question, polishing off the first honey roll,
then picking up the next one. “It’s only natural that someone like you would be
fascinated with my greatness, of course--it was inevitable as the tides, ha ha!
I’ll give you the benefit of my incredible expertise, because you begged so
kindly. Ask your questions!”
Rocky start aside, Izumi is starting to think Arashi is full of shit. Shu
really isn’t that hard to deal with, if you’ve got any sense at all. “What does
it mean when you ‘resonate’ with someone, exactly?” he presses. “Do I stick out
to you that much?” He’s not sure if he wants the answer to be ‘yes’ or ‘no’;
spending his whole life trying not to stick out too much hasn’t gone that well
for him.
Shu’s mouth parts, impressed with the intelligence of the question. “Well, that
was a good question, so I won’t give you a common answer for the ignorant. True
magic manifests in every wizard in a slightly different way--our powers are
nearly identical, but they manifest in our senses differently. Mine are in
sound. Everything in the world is music to me--the most complex are chords, the
simplest are single notes--pure metals, or filtered water, for example. Every
single thing around me, even the air, is making noise all the time. I heard
you, and your harmonies are...pleasant. They’re in tune with my own. It doesn’t
mean I’ll like you, I don’t like anyone, but it means you’ll bother me much
less than others, so I’ve commandeered you.”
Izumi nods slowly. “I understand that about as well as a boring human could, I
suppose,” he says wryly, setting down his half-eaten piece of fruit and
prodding at another one. Questionable, all of it. He tosses an apple-wannabe
over at Vale’s feet, and it’s snatched up almost immediately. “If it helps, you
can talk in terms of music, if you ever need to. His Highness, the crowned
prince, he’s a musician, so I can follow along. Ahh, that must be annoying,
everything always being noisy.”
“It...is.” A muscle twitches in Shu’s jaw, and his eyes dim slightly. “Ah,
you’ve heard the prince’s music? He isn’t exactly terrible, which is my highest
praise for someone who isn’t a wizard, so he should be grateful.” He brushes
imaginary crumbs off of his chest, then moves on to a third roll. “Other
wizards are the most pleasant to be around, but they’re also...too much for me.
My hearing--my sensitivity is very high, you understand. Mika’s as well, though
he doesn’t hear, he sees, which makes his actual vision somewhat compromised.
It’s why we’re not kept in the Capitol. Well, they say there are other reasons,
but they’re all monstrously vulgar imbeciles, you know.”
“They are,” Izumi agrees without hesitation. “Is that why his eyes are…the way
they are? They’re beautiful, but I’ve never seen anything like that.” And he
kept watching me like he could see things I couldn’t, which now, having that
explained, makes Izumi feel another level of unnerved. “When I return home,
I’ll let the prince know you think he isn’t terrible. He’ll be thrilled.”
“Don’t you dare, my disapproval keeps him on his toes,” Shu says, mouth
twitching slightly in amusement that he’s trying to hide. “Hmm, yes, Mika’s
eyes are very special. His mother sold one, you know.”
“She what? What the hell, people do that?” Izumi asks, aghast. “Is there a
market for wizard parts or something? Also—I’m fairly certain he had two…?”
“Well, she was an opportunistic hag, of course, and he was beautiful--he wasn’t
a wizard as a child, of course. No, that’s what happens when those with our
talents are allowed to live untrained, they become desperate, grasping,
disgusting. The man bought the eye and promised to replace it after he plucked
it out, but he put a marble in of a wrong color. Then when Mika bloomed into
his powers, of course, he changed, but the color is still different. It’s a
dreadfully dissonant note,” he muses. “But I don’t hate that about him.”
Izumi shudders in spite of himself, and leans back in his chair. Hearing things
like this makes it very, very apparent why his mother had always told him to
keep his mouth shut, to not tell anyone anything—and before, it had just been
under threat of being sent away. “That’s disgusting,” he mutters, appetite
entirely lost. “He looks so young, too, what the hell. My mother used to tell
me—after the wizard I knew as a child was sent away—that it was done to protect
your kind. Sounds like it’s actually true, talking to you.”
Shu blinks. “It’s done to protect everyone,” he admits. “The older we are, the
better at controlling our powers. I--even I, one of the greatest knowers of the
unknowable of our age--lose control sometimes, when something
is...disharmonious. You saw earlier. Your friend, who was sent away--did anyone
die, when he bloomed?”
“Not that I know of. I wasn’t there, but…I saw that he leveled an entire
orchard, heh. Then he was gone, and that was years ago.” Izumi shrugs. “I
haven’t heard from him since. Do all wizards, uh, bloom, like that? And only
when they’re young?”
“It varies, depending on the person, how they manifest.” Shu hesitates a
moment, then raises a hand, snapping a finger. A plume of pink fire flares
around his hand, and Shu narrows his eyes, concentrating. Slowly, it starts to
resolve from a chaotic flame into a small figure, growing more and more
distinct, evolving shape, changing numbers of legs. “My greatest strength is in
things like this, creating from nothing. Mika’s is...very different. I had a
friend who could riot emotions in men at the sound of his voice, making them
weep or rage, whatever he pleased, and another who could turn even a teaspoon
of water into a flood. We can all do the usual conceptions, throwing fire
around and creating light, things like that, but we each have a talent.”
The form finishes resolving, and settles into a fist-sized figure, a porcelain
sculpture that looks exactly like Vale, posed mid-rear with his forehooves in
the air, an arrogant charge read clear in his facial expression and the
musculature. He hands it over, dropping it into Izumi’s hands. “This is what I
love to do.”
“…Holy shit,” Izumi mutters in spite of himself, his eyes wide as he turns the
figure around in his hands, hardly believing it’s real even if he saw himself
it being made. “That’s…this is incredible. The wizards in the capitol, I’ve
never seen them do anything like this. Did you make Milady as well? Vale, come
here, look at this, it’s you. No, don’t put your mouth on it, you idiot, it’s
not food.”
The smile spreads across Shu’s mouth fully now, and he sits straighter,
immensely pleased with himself. “Yes, it’s wonderful, isn’t it, isn’t it? I
knew you had very high taste, I knew you sounded pleasant to the ears, ha ha!
Yes, Milady is my finest work, I even managed to give her a bit of action in
her limbs. I worked very hard on her in a...very dark hour.”
Izumi pushes his horse’s nose away, stopping him from lipping at the figure a
second time. “She’s beautiful,” he says honestly. “It’s very impressive that
you can do things like that. How old were you, when you found out that you had
these powers? I would’ve never known that my friend was a wizard, before…what
happened.”
“Eleven.” Shu’s smile fades, but doesn’t disappear as nostalgia takes hold.
“Old enough to have been apprenticed to another career, though not the one I
would have chosen for myself. When I bloomed...well. It always happens
violently.”
His mouth thins, and Milady turns, laying a tiny porcelain hand on his as if to
comfort him. “It happens because of strong emotions,” the doll says, speaking
up for the first time in quite a while. “Most bloom in dreams, because they’re
so strong. Shu bloomed when the woman he loved died.”
“Ah. Sorry to hear that.” It’s still strange to hear the doll talking in a
completely different voice, but—whatever, he’s surrounded by strange things
now. “That’s a good reason to go mad, I suppose,” Izumi mutters, though it sets
an unhappy little blob of dread into his stomach. If anything ever happened to
Leo, will he end up like this? He’s too old already, isn’t he? It doesn’t make
sense, and magic is supposed to make some sense, isn’t it? “Sorry, we probably
shouldn’t talk about things like that, it’s a recipe for a bad mood.”
Shu flutters his other hand, and Milady settles back, returning to her docile,
empty-eyed stare. “It’s fine,” Shu says airily. “I’ve given you permission. Ah,
it sounds as if they’re turning in for the night. Excellent, that means I’m not
needed.”
He lifts the carafe of liquid, then pours two amber-colored glasses, raising
one. “Drink with me.”
“…Is it safe for wizards to get drunk?” Izumi wryly asks, but he doesn’t
refuse, reaching over to lift his glass. “If not, don’t light my horse on fire,
that’s all I ask.”
“Every wizard is different, don’t make me repeat myself unnecessarily,” Shu
says with a sigh, and takes a long drink. “For me, it dulls my emotions, so
it’s actually safer for me to be drunk, but I don’t spend all my time that way
anymore.”
“Sounds bad,” Izumi says, leaning back and taking a long drink himself. That’s
strong, he can tell from one mouthful, and he drinks faster. Screw you, Arashi,
I bet you didn’t think I’d be getting friendly and drunk with a wizard, did
you? “So,” he begins, crossing his legs, “can I ask a question about something
else? About the Berserkers, the Captain was talking to me about them.”
A visible shudder goes through Shu, and he takes a second drink to steady his
nerves. “You’ll be seeing them soon enough, you may as well ask your questions
now.”
“How deadly are they, really? Do they always kill in one blow?”
Shu purses his lips, turning over his answer in his mind before he speaks.
“You’re asking the wrong question, which means you’re thinking about them
wrong,” he says at last. “Which means you’re a fool, but you shouldn’t have to
die for that. A skilled swordsman will kill you in one blow. A berserker is
more like a building falling on part of the army. Not all of them die in one
blow. A berserker might kill twenty men in one minute, and cripple or maim a
dozen more.”
“I’m asking that particular question because I want to fight one. Just me.”
None of this ‘I helped take one down’ nonsense that Arashi has told him. Izumi
takes another drink, then sets his empty glass down. “So if it’s just me, do
you think it would kill me instantly? Ahh, I understand what you’re saying,
too, but…”
“Hmm. Well, you won’t understand if I don’t show you, so pay attention before I
get too drunk to work magic.”
Shu sets down his glass, then clears some of the dishes off the table, blooming
a sudden pink fire in the spot in front of him. Slowly, it changes, though it
doesn’t resolve as firmly as the little horse had. The figure remains made of
fire, and looks like a man, with spiked short hair and too-long arms. “An
Ingling. About the same size as a regular human. Just before they change...”
The man curls in on himself, dropping down into a ball. “We don’t know what
they do. But we can mark them--I can hear them, Mika can see them--and if the
archers can pick them out at this point, they’re dead. If not...”
The figure warps, then grows, elongating first upwards in a grotesque fashion,
bones popping under skin, every detail rendered by Shu’s magic, even as his
face grows green. It roars silently, because Shu doesn’t give it sound, and
swells to a massive height, easily four times the size of a human, with arms
that drag the ground and a huge distended jaw that drops as low as his chest,
with massive arced teeth and tusks. “They’re fast. One could reach the palace
from here in ten minutes, I’d guess. The one advantage we have is that they
don’t seem to think when they change, so they never use weapons. The death toll
would be massively higher if they did.”
Izumi’s eyes lid, and he reaches for the carafe, topping off Shu’s glass before
filling his own again. “So they’re a challenge. I know that sounds arrogant,
before you scold me,” he hastily adds, holding up a hand before Shu can brush
him off like Arashi has again and again. “But I’m not here to just become a
soldier. I want…if I can’t be the strongest, fastest, deadliest knight, then
I’m no one.” Another drink, and he can already feel his head buzzing. Good. “If
becoming known for killing those things single-handedly does the trick, then
I’ll do it. Those teeth look like they hurt though, ugh…”
Shu closes his fist, and the fire disappears, leaving behind a faint whiff of
rose petals, for some reason. “I understand wanting to make a name for
yourself. I’ll warn you, though, I won’t leave you one alive just so you can
prove a point. You’ll have to get yourself near one by yourself.”
“I understand. It’s not like I want anyone else to die. Mm, can you do me one
favor, though? If we’re mostly alone or something, point it out to me first?”
Izumi downs his second glass too-quickly, and he flops sideways in his chair.
“I won’t fuck it up. I’m really good.”
“How good?” Shu asks, curious. “How do you know you’re good if you’re not even
a knight?”
“Just because I’m not a knight means nothing,” Izumi grumpily retorts. “I’ve
dueled every knight worth his title in the Capitol and won. I’ve knocked every
sparring partner the Captain’s thrown at me here flat on his ass. It isn’t as
if I haven’t been offered positions, but I turn them down!”
“Have you dueled the Captain?”
“He won’t, the bastard. I’d win, that’s why he won’t.”
Shu snorts, and throws back the rest of his glass. Izumi sounds confident, but
he’s seen many knights that sounded confident drinking in a tent that have
pissed themselves on the battlefield later. Time will tell. Hopefully, it will
tell in a way that doesn’t kill this man, who harmonizes well with Shu’s own
melody.
“How about the rest? Can you shoot, can you use an axe, shield, morningstar? Or
is it just the sword you’re good at?”
“I can do anything, but I’m best with a sword. I’ve been better than my
instructors since I could walk, that’s why I got sent to the Capitol.” Izumi
slumps down to plop his chin in one hand, sighing. “The Captain’s an asshole,”
he moodily diverts. “Pisses me off, because he’s very attractive. So annoying.”
“You’re far lovelier,” Shu says, almost offended at the idea that anyone would
think that Arashi is more beautiful than Izumi. “Oh. Not that I care at all,
but don’t say anything against the Captain when Mika is around. That’s more a
warning than a threat, he gets very upset and isn’t as good at controlling it
as I am.”
Izumi flaps a hand. “I won’t say anything. He reminds me of a bird. Mika does.
Fluttery, can’t trust that kind of thing, so I won’t say anything. The
Captain—he’s handsome, I’m beautiful, that’s the difference. You’re beautiful,
too, d’you have a lover?”
Shu’s lips twitch, thinning into a line. “You’ve never known a wizard, have
you?”
“No.” Izumi’s eyebrows raise. “Are you not allowed to have lovers or
something?”
“Of course not. We’re property of the crown. For our own safety, of course.”
Shu’s eyebrow twitches. “Policy of the king’s father.”
“Oh. That’s stupid.” Izumi rolls his eyes. “When Leo—sorry, when the prince
becomes king, I’ll make him repeal that. What’s the point of living if you
can’t enjoy sex, honestly. You should just do it anyway, it’s not like he can
stop you, the king’s all the way in the Capitol and you’re here.”
Shu cocks his head. “Would you do what you pleased, to please yourself, if you
knew it wouldn’t be you that suffered for it, but the one you held most
dearly?” he asks softly. “Trifling with crown property is a crime. Being crown
property is not. You understand?”
“…that’s really fucking stupid,” Izumi bluntly repeats. “You’re human, aren’t
you? Being a fancy, glorified slave—fuck that. All of this, I’m making Leo fix
it up.” He pauses, turning over options in his alcohol-muddled mind. “So
then—two wizards, that’s still a no-go, for some reason? I thought maybe you
and the bird boy…”
“Shut your mouth.” The words aren’t angry, but more nervous, accompanied with a
swift shake of Shu’s head, eyes darting around. “The king has ears everywhere,
and I can’t drown them all out,” he says, far more quietly, far more quickly.
“Even the suspicion--I can’t lose him too.” And to change the subject as
quickly as possible, he adds, “The prince is thinking of you right now.”
Izumi’s drunk enough to keep pressing it, but he’s also drunk enough to be
easily distracted, especially at any and all mentions of Leo. “Heeh, is he?” he
prods, contemplating a third glass of drink, then deciding against it, and sets
his own down so that he’s not tempted. “Can you tell what he’s thinking about?
Ahh, he’s going to be a good king,” he affectionately says, eyes lidding.
“That’s why all of this is worth it, even if it takes another twenty years for
his idiot father to die.”
Shu’s lip curls, and he shoves away his own cup, along with the temptation to
create himself a fire-clad representation of the one he wants so desperately to
see. It won’t help. It never does. “With my luck, it will be far longer,” he
says moodily. “His father lived to ninety, and the king’s just thirty-nine.”
“If he lives too long, I’ll kill him myself. I don’t know how someone so
perfect can come from that man’s seed,” Izumi grouses, reaching back to pull
his ponytail over his shoulder. “So are they good thoughts, or is he annoyed at
me for leaving, or…”
“I don’t read minds, you know. All I know is that they’re warm thoughts, so I
doubt it’s anything unhappy.” Shu brushes the hair back from his face, eyes
slightly unfocused with the strong liquor. “I shouldn’t have told you that
much. But I’ve spied on the one who left me behind too, so I suppose I have
some sympathy.”
“Tell me about him.” Because he can’t help but be curious. What kind of lover
could someone like Shu have snuck around with in the past? “Or her. I don’t
know what you like, but you act like you’ve got taste so I’m assuming it was a
man.” Maybe he’s too drunk for this conversation, actually. Vale snorts out a
breath nearby, more or less agreeing.
Shu hesitates, then grabs his glass, Izumi’s glass, and suddenly both of them
are enveloped in pink fire. He places each of them at one end of the table,
then leans in, satisfied that they’re not being heard. “Two,” he says with a
sigh, leaning onto his palm. “The one I wanted and the one who wanted me. They
were both...so beautiful. Like mirror opposites. Look.”
He gives in, opening his palms, creating two small figures--one, golden and
tiny, wearing a lady’s ruffled dress. The other, tall and dark-haired with
crimson eyes that burn even among the rest of the flames, wearing a wizard’s
dark robes. “My tale is a tragedy, you know,” he says, more than a little
drunk, sounding very confidential.
“They’re both very beautiful,” Izumi agrees, and he reaches over, giving Shu’s
head a sympathetic pat. “You don’t have to tell it if it’s gonna make you
upset. I was just curious. I like romance. Hey, I’ll fuck up anyone that tries
to bother you and your doll, seriously.” Maybe there’s something to that whole
‘resonating’ nonsense after all. Or maybe he’s just drunk.
Shu grabs Izumi’s hand, violet eyes turning wet as he squeezes. “I’ll protect
you,” he says seriously. “If you fall in front of the berserker, I don’t care
what the King says, I’ll save you. You’re beautiful in a very noisy world.”
“I’m not gonna fall. But thank you.” Izumi’s vision swims a little, a reminder
that he hasn’t eaten much and now he’s had more than enough to drink. He
doesn’t care. He drops his other hand over Shu’s, squeezing it with both. “I
won’t die,” he lowly says, the words basically a promise. “I can’t. I’m…a
little like you, I think.”
“You are beautiful, and I am too,” Shu agrees, vision swimming slightly. When
it resolves again, he sees what Izumi had meant--it’s always easier, when
someone isn’t holding a secret so tightly. “Oh. Oh, you...”
He frowns, and draws back slightly, though he doesn’t release Izumi’s hand.
“What are you?”
“A stupid page. Sorry. Reflex. Captain’s fault.” Izumi blinks back at him, his
head tilting. “What do you mean? I’m human. I don’t know anything else—I…” He
hesitates, glancing around, as if double checking that no one’s lurking near
them is better than any of Shu’s magical preventatives. “My mother used to warn
me, when I was little, not to say anything,” he murmurs. “Or they’d send me
away. But I don’t think I’m a wizard…or something would’ve happened by now.
Right? I’m eighteen already.”
Shu nods urgently, intellectual curiosity burning in his eyes. “What is it,
then? Ah, not to be indelicate, but are you sure you know your father?”
“No. I don’t. At all.” Izumi’s gaze darkens. “I’m a bastard. My mother…I know
she’s human. But I can…fix things. Heal things, I mean. Like—here.”
He pulls back, reaching down and fumbling into his boot for the spare knife he
keeps there, and flicks it open. In short order, Izumi draws it across his
palm, not even flinching as he does, even though it’s an obviously deep cut.
Almost immediately, however, a bit of focus—no matter how tipsy he feels—it
starts to close up, leaving only the coagulating blood behind. “Every swordplay
instructor I’ve ever had has told me I’m too fearless and I’m going to die
because of it, no matter how good I am,” Izumi softly says, glancing up through
the pale of his lashes to catch Shu’s gaze. “But I don’t think so.”
Shu stares, and lets out a low hiss under his breath, hating to see the
beautiful skin marred as much as he’s entranced by watching it heal. “How bad a
wound have you taken?” he asks, his intellectual curiosity overtaking him, even
when he’s three sheets to the wind. “How much concentration does the process
take? Is it transferable? Do you run out of energy--is there a trade-off? Can
you do anything else related, like heal a sickness, or change your appearance
or age?”
“That’s a lot of questions at once and I’m drunk, hold on,” Izumi complains,
holding up a hand as he sags backward. “Okay. One by one. The worst I’ve ever
taken was a gut wound in a duel, went straight through, and I could tell it was
bad, you know? Through the intestines or something terrible. I started healing
it during the fight and I was fine, though. Just sore for a few days. If it’s
me I’m healing, it’s…second nature, I guess? I don’t really have to think about
it. But I can heal other people, and that takes a lot more effort. I get
headaches, or I’m really dizzy afterwards if it’s something bigger, but I’m
usually fine if I eat something.” He pulls the tie out of his hair, suddenly
annoyed by its existence. “I’ve only ever done something major on another
person once, though, and I was young. It’s gotten easier and easier as I get
older. Ah…what else…”
Izumi starts to count off from his own mental list. “It’s less effective on old
wounds. And ‘old’ can mean an hour old or a month old or…whatever. Sickness
seems unaffected, I can’t get rid of my own colds. I can’t change my appearance
or age, I don’t think? I don’t even know how I’d…go about that. I’ve never
tested it on poison, so I don’t know about that. Does this sound like anything
you’ve ever heard of? I’ve…I’ve never been able to find anything, and I
consider myself well-read.” He  swallows. “The prince has never been able to
find anything either.”
Shu’s eyes dart about, thinking, analyzing, trying to remember anything he’s
ever read. “I,” he says finally, “would consider it the greatest vote of
confidence and friendship if you would allow me to find out what you are. I’ll
do it no matter what, of course, I’m dreadfully curious to the point of wanting
to die, but I’ve always adored scholarly puzzles. The prince, however much I
may respect him personally, is not my intellectual equal.”
“He pays attention to what he wants to pay attention to.” Izumi gnaws on his
lower lip before he tucks his knife away again. “You can try, if you want. If
it’s something terrible, though—do me a favor and don’t tell me. Oh. If it
makes a difference,” he adds, pulling on strand of his hair, “my mother’s a
brunette. So is everyone else in her line. This hair isn’t hers.”
Shu nods, mind racing. “Excellent, excellent. You’re from the North, aren’t
you? I haven’t been there much--we went back to the West so I could deal
with...some things, but I haven’t gone up there. Hmm...has your mother ever
told you anything at all, even a hint?”
“She doesn’t speak of it. All I know is from one of her sisters—my mother was
barren, and then some rogue came and raped her in the night, and…” Izumi
flutters a hand. “I was born.”
“That’s good information, though. Hmm...” Shu shakes his head, blinking bleary
eyes. “Interesting. I’ll think about this later. For now, take your clothes
off, I want to look at something beautiful.”
“You just want to look, though, that’s the worst,” Izumi complains, but he’s
already in the process of undoing the lacings of his shirt. Who cares, if he’s
going to be praised for being lovely by an all-powerful wizard. “I’ll never bed
anyone out here at this rate.”
“Don’t ruin this with complaining,” Shu orders, eyes tracing every line of
Izumi’s body. “Ahh. Very nice. Very good. I want to get the lines right if I
ever look at you while you’re not here. Do you wash your penis often?”
“Are you going to make a doll out of me?” Izumi asks, laughing in spite of
himself, and he pulls his shirt off, tossing it over the back of his chair.
“What kind of question is that, of course I do, I bathe daily. I can’t stand
being unclean. Ah, hold on, these boots take a minute even when I’m not drunk.”
Shu lets his hands drop to his lap, folding them to keep them still. “Apologies
in advance,” he murmurs, face flushed. “When I see men that are so lovely I
want to touch them, particularly their legs.”
“You can touch them, if you want,” Izumi breezily says, sitting sideways in the
chair and draping his legs over one arm of it as he unlaces his boots one at a
time, dropping them to the ground. “Is it against the law if you touch me?
Like, if I’m not doing anything, that’s not tampering with anything, right? I
have nice legs. I’m a better dancer than anyone at court.”
There’s a rustling outside of the canopy, and Izumi fumbles for his sword,
already in the process of drawing it no matter if he’s shirtless and barefoot
and still seated by the time Mika pokes his head in, mismatched eyes glowing
with the flickering light of his lantern. “See, Arashi,” he softly says over
his shoulder, his head tilting. “Nothin’ blew up. Master, you’ve had a lot to
drink, huh?”
“...Some,” Shu admits, moving to take Mika’s hand and hold it. Hands are safe.
“Come sit down, I’m watching my new bodyguard undress. Isn’t he beautiful,
Mika? You like looking at men.”
“Who doesn’t?” Arashi quips, drawing the canopy shut. He gestures to Izumi, and
the armchair. “Don’t let me stop you.”
Mika spares a glance at Izumi, makes a face, and looks away. “He’s scary.”
“Ouch, snubbed,” Izumi mutters, flopping back down and letting his sword click
back into its scabbard. His heart won’t stop pounding in his chest now, but at
least he’s drunk enough to not really process much beyond there not being an
immediate threat that he has to deal with. Arashi…well, whatever, he can’t put
a stop to this, because this is what a wizard wants, so to hell with him and
his opinions. “Do you make all of your bodyguards undress?” he idly asks,
pulling at the lacings of his breeches.
Arashi raises an eyebrow, but as long as no one is telling him to leave, he
doesn’t bother. It’s always fun to watch a show, even if he hadn’t known he was
about to get one, and it isn’t as if his predilections are a secret.
“The ones with nice legs,” Shu admits. “But I don’t usually ask them to take
everything off.” He spares a glance at Arashi, then lets out a huff. “If you
must stay, at least attend to Mika.”
“I have nicer legs than all of them. And a nicer arse,” Izumi insists, thumbing
the skintight fabric down over his hips.
Mika’s eyes roll, and he flops down onto a long pillow, kicking his feet in the
air as he unravels a rope from his pocket and starts twisting it around his
fingers. “I’m reeeeally fine, Master. Enjoy your show.”
“If you’re going to attend to anyone, attend to me! Did you know wizards aren’t
allowed to have lovers?” Izumi snaps in Arashi’s direction, furious in the way
that only a drunk person can be. “Stupid. Ridiculous! Look how gorgeous he is,”
he hisses, waving a hand in Shu’s direction. “It’s a fucking crime.”
“I know,” Arashi says wistfully, though his eyes don’t linger on Shu, but on
Mika, rolling around with his feet in the air and a bit of rope in his hands.
So cute. “Our king, in his esteemed wisdom--oh, look, I can say it with a
straight face--thinks it’s the only way to keep them from being seduced by the
enemy.”
Shu huffs. “You’d think the solution would be to ply us with beauties until our
loyalty was unquestioned. Come here, sit on the table in front of me, I’m going
to touch you while I’m drunk.”
“Our king is a fucking idiot. I’m drunk,” Izumi reminds the room, because
Arashi is an unknown still and saying that he’s drunk is clearly enough to
prevent words from being misconstrued. Izumi hauls himself to his feet all the
same, kicking off his breeches to shamelessly drop down in front of Shu,
stretching out a leg for him. “Here. Touch it, it’s smooth. I can’t stand body
hair.”
“Ahhh...how do you do that without magic?” Shu asks, fingers running
appreciatively over toned calves, then up to Izumi’s thighs. “Yes, hairless
everywhere, very nice, very interesting, very beautiful.”
His eyes draw upward, and he bites his lip, sighing. “It looks very lovely.
This is making me quite upset.”
“Hmm, maybe I can help.”
Arashi slides up behind Izumi suddenly, one finger running down his shoulder.
“Want me to touch him for you, Excellency? If he doesn’t mind, of course...”
Now even Mika’s interest is piqued, if the sudden, catlike fixation of his eyes
is any indication. Izumi’s skin prickles from the careful, methodical touch of
Shu’s hands and the sudden, teasing brush of Arashi’s fingers. Sucking in a
slow breath through his nose, Izumi shifts, his thighs trembling when he’s torn
between pressing them together or letting them fall further open. “…it’s not
like I mind,” he mutters, licking at his lips. “But you better be good at it.”
“Heh, for once my reputation didn’t proceed me, huh?” Arashi says with a
teasing laugh, pulling back to call out a quick order out of the tent, setting
a few of his men to watching the tent flap, forbidden to enter unless there’s
an actual attack on the camp. He tugs off his own cuffs, then his swordbelt,
then his shirt, flexing slightly and turning to make sure Izumi can see all of
his sculpted body. “Ever done this kind of thing with an audience before,
darling? Also, let me know any preferences now, though I know his Excellency
loves to see a pretty boy opened up by someone big and athletic.”
A little groan comes from Shu’s mouth, but he doesn’t move, hands perfectly
still in his lap now, eyes flicking between the two of them.
Mika has shifted. His pillow has become a pillow stack, notably right next to
Shu’s chair, and he huddles behind a couple of them, that sharp, unnerving
stare of his wrapped up in every single move that Arashi makes.
Izumi does a good job of not falling off the table, he thinks, and it has
little to do with being drunk. Talking grumpily about how attractive Arashi
is—that’s one thing. Seeing it like this, that’s another, especially when it’s
been (in his very firm opinion) far too long. “You can do whatever you want to
me,” he blurts out, his face flushed and lips parted. “I’ve…I’ve never, not in
front of anyone, but that doesn’t matter to me.”
“Ah...how sweet.” Arashi moves up behind Izumi, setting his lips to the curve
of his neck and kissing, then nipping, then scraping with his teeth. “No one’s
ever seen you thoroughly debauched and enjoyed before now, hmm? Lucky me~e.
Mika, darling, anything you want to see first?” His hand moves, idly tracing
down over Izumi’s chest, cupping his pecs and thumbing over a nipple in a way
that would be idle if it weren’t so intent.
“Make him suck it.” There’s not even the slightest hesitation from Mika before
he answers, either, or even a bit of flush to his cheeks. He shifts restlessly
behind his pillows and underneath the heavy fall of his hair, his eyes lidding.
“Please.”
“Fuck,” Izumi mutters, biting at his lower lip as his chest heaves, one hand
hurrying to grab at Arashi’s hand and hold those calloused fingers near his
nipple, hoping he toys with it again. His other hand half-heartedly pulls his
hair up, out of the way, encouraging the mouth on his neck when every single
little kiss and bite seems to go straight to his cock. “Yeah, sure. Let me suck
it first.”
Arashi’s hands are capable and strong, deftly yanking Izumi off the table and
onto the floor, arranging him on his knees. “Didn’t you hear his Excellency,
Izumi darling? You’re too eager. He wants me to make you suck my cock.”
With that, he fists a hand in Izumi’s hair, taking himself in the other hand to
rub the head against Izumi’s lips. “Open up,” he breathes, eyes flicking over
to make sure their audience can see everything. “Or I won’t let you come up for
air until you’ve sucked me dry.”
Shu shifts in his chair, one hand delving surreptitiously beneath his robes,
tugging the fabric over his lap to keep from exposing himself as he starts to
rub against his palm.
Izumi feels the ruddy flush to his cheeks immediately turn a dozen times worse.
Lightheaded, he’s lightheaded from how hard he suddenly is, and if he were any
less drunk—
No, he still wouldn’t be embarrassed, fuck that.
He parts his lips only enough to stick his tongue out, getting a taste of the
musky, distinctively male taste of Arashi, and he shudders, his hands fisting
against his own thighs. “You heard him,” he hoarsely whispers, his eyes
fluttering. “Make me.” The rustle of Mika’s own robes is tell-tale.
It isn’t Arashi’s first time showing off a pretty boy for his two wizards. He
knows what they like--particularly Mika, who actually talks to him afterwards
about what he’d enjoyed, what he wants more of. He grabs that cloud-soft hair,
then starts to shove himself into Izumi’s mouth, lips parting for a sigh. “Good
boy, open up, pretty kitty needs to drink all of her milk whether she likes it
or not. Feel how hard I am just from looking at you? That’s your fault, so take
care of it.”
It’s a fun idea to act like he doesn’t want it, but Izumi isn’t the best at
it—nor does he particularly care to be.
A groan gets stuck in his throat, and he does, at least, stop himself from
surging up to swallow more of Arashi down. He just lets Arashi pull him down
instead, swallowing hard and blinking rapidly to stop the sudden, hot prick of
tears when Arashi flat out doesn’t relent, and the thick head of his cock
shoves down his throat, bumping back against it, threatening his gag reflex for
a hot minute. Izumi inhales shakily through his nose, his hands lifting to paw
at Arashi’s thighs, his tongue curling helplessly against the underside of
Arashi’s cock, the taste making him shiver and squirm where he kneels.
“You’re very good at that,” Arashi murmurs, knowing his audience likes it when
he talks. It’s the closest they get to interacting without all of them dying
horribly, after all. He threads his fingers in Izumi’s hair, winding the long
strands around his fingers, then yanking him down hard to let everyone hear
those sweet panicked choking noises for a few moments before pulling leisurely
out. “Very good, very good...ah, my apologies, Excellencies, I don’t think I’ve
been feeding him enough, if the way he’s looking for protein is any
indication.”
Izumi gasps for a full breath, blinking hard to keep tears from leaking out
even when he’s already making a mess of himself with the sticky, gossamer
strand of saliva that connects his tongue and Arashi’s cock when he finally
pulls back. His cock drips between his legs, flushed dark at the tip, and Izumi
hears himself whine before he can stop himself. “Please,” he groans, lending
himself to the pull of Arashi’s hands, tilting his head up to get his mouth on
Arashi’s cock again. “C…captain, I’ve fasted all day waiting for you, I…”
Mika exhales a flustered, pleased noise, and burrows deeper down into his
little self-made fort.
Arashi spares a glance around the room, making sure that every one is still on
board with the whole ‘cadet-that-needs-to-be-fed’ plotline. Yep, still looks
like a go. He tilts his head, looking down at Izumi, rubbing a thumb over his
swollen bottom lip. “You’ve been so good on your knees for me,” he murmurs.
“Acting like a little bitch in heat. Go on, and be thorough. This is all you’ll
get to eat or drink tonight.”
A curse comes from Shu’s mouth, and his face flushes, hand sticky between his
thighs.
Izumi’s tongue swipes out to suck Arashi’s thumb into his mouth first, his eyes
intent, no matter the pleased, content glaze to them. Then he grabs for
Arashi’s cock with trembling fingers, unrepentant, his tongue dragging over the
head’s leaking slit before eagerly swallowing him down, making no attempt to
muffle the hungry, mindless little whimpers that leave his throat beyond the
cock stuffed down it.
Mika huffily shivers, pulling a pillow over his flushed face when he actually
has to stop watching for a moment—too much, too overstimulating.
Arashi groans, on the verge of giving Izumi everything he needs, heat boiling
in his belly, when he catches sight of Mika’s hidden face, and he gets control
of himself, pulling out. He pants, hand on Izumi’s head for balance now, and
closes his eyes, trying to stop himself from spilling immediately. “Mika,
darling, you want something else? Or you want me to finish it? This is for you,
you know.” The gentle, but fervent affection in his voice leaves little doubt
as to the handsome Captain’s true feelings, tamped down though they may be.
“D…do whatever you want,” comes Mika’s breathless whisper, his shoulders
trembling where he huddles underneath the pillow. “Arashi, I…”
Izumi groans, his head thunking forward against Arashi’s thigh, dragging his
tongue over his swollen lips. “Do us all a favor and feed me like you wanna
feed him, Captain,” he rasps. Mika’s eager swallow at that is audible, and
Izumi’s laugh is ragged and tipsy if not good-natured when he paws for Arashi’s
cock again. “C’mon, please, I’m huungry, so is he.”
Arashi’s curse drowns out Shu’s, and he lurches forward, sliding deep into
Izumi’s mouth with three powerful strokes, hips pistoning in hard, slamming
against the back of his throat. That added stimulation is all he needs, and he
bites his lip, keeping himself quiet when he finally comes, pulling back far
enough to flood Izumi’s mouth. “Lap it all up, kitty,” he whispers, hands tight
in Izumi’s hair, not letting him pull away.
Izumi almost chokes. His vision blurs, the bitter, heavy masculine taste on his
tongue threatening to make him gag for a moment before he swallows, loud and
deliberate, and again, taking care not to spill a drop no matter how it
threatens to drip from his mouth. He twists against Arashi’s hold to no
avail—fuck, he’s as strong as he looks, and that’s…so hot, he kind of wants to
die—and stares up at him through his lashes, cheeks flushed, chest heaving.
Mika’s breathy little whimper is lost against a pillow, an obvious shiver
raking down his spine. His cheeks are red and he buries his face back into his
pillow after picking it up for a moment, just to catch a glimpse of Arashi once
more.
The smallest whimper from Mika’s mouth makes Arashi a hundred times harder than
Izumi’s wet tongue. He closes his eyes hard--it’s too easy, too tempting to run
over and grab the wizard, kissing him hard--
No, no, no. He didn’t get to be the Captain of his own entire host because he
has no self-control. He can do this, and he has to, for Mika’s sake. Sure,
dying would be awful, but far worse would be how Mika would feel, knowing that
Arashi died for him.
That’s the thought that keeps him in place, slowly pulling out of Izumi’s
mouth, patting his head. “Good boy,” he murmurs, leaning back against the
table. “Mika, darling, you want me to get him off? Or should he have to stay
like this?”
Mika shakes his head, and slowly lifts his head, his face blotchy but eyes
bright, lips parted as he runs his tongue over his lower lip. Arousal makes him
bold. “You should…y’should take care of him, kara,” he murmurs, lapsing into
his native tongue for the affectionate moniker. Even the prying ears of the
king can’t speak his language. “Like you would if it were me.”
Wouldn’t be the first time he’s a surrogate, and Izumi doesn’t particularly
mind even if it were, besides. His blinks a few times to clear the tears out
his eyes, and spares a glance to Shu—who at least, for his part, doesn’t seem
to give a damn so long as he gets a good view of him, and Izumi does appreciate
that. “Literally anything you want,” he mutters, wobbling where he kneels. his
vision still refusing to focus because of how hard he is (and how drunk he is).
“I’m flexible. Ahh…literally, and figuratively…”
“Come here.”
Arashi’s eyes are locked on Mika, but his hands are confident and sure as he
pulls Izumi up onto the table, spreading his legs wide, Izumi’s back to
Arashi’s chest. “This isn’t how I’d do it,” he says, voice a little rough as he
strokes himself back to hardness, his other hand wandering over Izumi’s torso,
seeking out a nipple to pinch and tug. “I’d have you in a soft bed, I’d kiss
you for hours, I’d turn off all the lights so no one could ever see you and
you’d never be afraid again, and you’d be, gods, you’d be so happy.”
He bites into Izumi’s shoulder, partially because he knows Izumi will like it,
partially because he needs to remember who he’s with, hauling Izumi back to
display him. “Here, something for His Excellency Shu. Spread your pretty hole
for us, bastard page. Show us you’re worth keeping around.”
Izumi’s breath stutters, and with it, his cock twitches, barely interested in
waiting a moment longer. “D…don’t call me that,” he groans in protest before he
stuffs a pair of fingers into his own mouth, pulling them free slick with his
own saliva. “I know I’m worth keeping around,” he pants out as he reaches back,
taking his time to rub his fingers against his hole, then sinks them inside
with a low, breathless noise, deliberately spreading himself wide. “Ahh…fuck,
if I come, it’s because you’re watching me, Shu, I can feel it.”
Shu makes a motion as if he’s about to start up from his chair, and Arashi
flicks a glance at him, warning and reassuring at the same time. Shu subsides,
licking his lips, and nods. “Don’t call him that,” he orders. “Besides, he
doesn’t look like a page, how preposterous.”
“Oh? What does he look like, then, your Excellency?”
Shu’s eyes rake down Izumi’s body, and his violet eyes cloud with arousal.
“Like an elegant maiden that longs to be a whore,” he says softly, watching
Izumi to see his reaction.
Izumi wobbles, slumping forward when his cock gives a desperate, trembling
throb, and he spills over onto the table with a relieved, breathy groan.
“T…that’s good,” he whispers, raking his sweaty hair out of his face with his
other hand. “Ah…s-sorry, I couldn’t wait anymore, I…”
Arashi laughs gently, giving Izumi’s cheek a kiss and releasing his own cock.
“Good, it didn’t want to get hard again anyway. We’ll save that for next time,
Milady.” His eyes flick over to Mika, and he asks softly, arms around Izumi
from behind, “Have we pleased you, Excellency?”
“Mmph.” Mika, now buried down into his pillow pile (which has acquired a few
blankets), looks decidedly sulky. About what is anyone’s guess, or at least,
it’s certainly too much effort for Izumi to try and decipher it right now.
Dizzy, sweaty, and still very tipsy, Izumi half-heartedly bats Arashi away,
sliding off of the table with a thump. “I’m cleaning up, and then I’m going to
go puke,” he mutters, stumbling away to grab his breeches. “Fuck me, never
should’ve gotten drunk on an empty stomach.”
“Don’t bother coming back inside when you’re done,” Shu says, fastidiously
wiping off his hand. “Leave us alone for the night, both of you, unless someone
attacks.”
Arashi nods, fetching his clothing and fastening it on, stuffing his shirt
tails back into his breeches. “I’ll make sure you’re undisturbed.” He pauses,
hand on the tent flap, not looking at either of them. He wavers for a moment,
obviously about to say something, then shuts his mouth firmly, striding out of
the tent and not looking back.
“Making my life hard,” Izumi grouses, snatching up the rest of his clothes and
making a valiant effort of not vomiting yet until he’s dressed and waving a
distracted hand good night to Shu before stumbling out of the tent, glaring at
the guards posted there, and getting a few paces away before emptying out the
contents of his stomach.
Delightful. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, untethers his horse,
and drags the fatass after him. “Oi. Oi, Captain,” he calls, catching up in a
few hurried strides, much to Vale’s distaste. “Are you too tired for an evening
ride? I knowI won’t sleep until I’m sure the area’s secure.”
Arashi stops in his tracks, then lets his head tip back, breathing deep. He
nods. “Ride with me towards enemy lines. Maybe if we’re lucky we’ll pick off a
couple of scouts. My blood’s up, I’ve got to take someone else’s before I
sleep. Squire, Daran! Bring my warhorse, saddled.”
Huh. That actually worked. Izumi waits until Arashi’s horse is brought over
before he swings up into his own saddle, and the world only spins a little.
“I,” he warns, “am still slightly tipsy.”
Arashi grins, and releases the peace tie on his blade. “Good thing you’re with
a fine swordsman, then. Stay behind me if you’re still swaying, I won’t let you
get hurt.” With that, he and his horse leap onto the mountain trails, winding
their way through the Sharps.
Once their out of earshot of the camp, he slows slightly, walking Neigh beside
Vale. “So. How’d you like your first wizards?”
Cold air and riding does wonders to sober him, and Izumi briefly shuts his
eyes, exhaling a long breath. “They’re certainly…different, aren’t they.” He
hesitates, picking his words carefully for once—probably because he can still
feel the alcohol, more likely because he’s not a fucking idiot, and he’s very
aware that Arashi…well… “Shu isn’t a problem,” he settles upon. “We, ah. How he
put it works, I guess. Resonate. But Mika…sorry, I’m not good with people like
him.”
“Good, he’s not for you,” Arashi says shortly. His hands clench on the reins,
and he slowly, deliberately unclenches them. “Sorry. Just...leave him to me. He
doesn’t want more friends, he can’t handle them. He’s a sad story, you know?
Ah, I’m glad you like Shu, he’s hard for me.”
“Then between the two of us, it’s taken care of,” Izumi diplomatically settles
upon. “Shu’s easy. He just wants to be told that he’s smart and beautiful. I
can relate.”
Arashi snorts. “I should have known you’d get along. Well, good. He’s run his
old minders ragged, we needed new blood.”
He falls silent for a moment, then says quietly, “It’s not one of those rules
that you can break in secret.”
“I know. I asked. Just because—you know, I’m nosy, I was curious if he had a
lover. Like hell if I knew how wizards worked before today.” Izumi glances down
at his bare hands, wryly realizing he’s left his gloves behind in the wizards’
tent. Oh well. He’ll deal with that tomorrow. “It’s stupid, if you want my
opinion, and I know you do. They’re fancy, high-status slaves under those kinds
of laws. I already promised Shu I’d have it taken care of when the prince
becomes king, so I’ll tell you the same.”
Arashi lets out a sigh, nodding. “I’ve hoped,” he admits. “The prince seems
very reasonable. But I’ve known many young men who wanted to change things that
grew up into Lords afraid to lose their power. I try not to get my hopes up
anymore. Don’t tell Mika. If he thinks it’ll happen and it doesn’t...”
“Idiot. The prince isn’t reasonable at all. That’s why he’ll do it.” Izumi’s
lips twitch to a smile without realizing it. “Forget telling Mika anything, I’m
not even looking at him anymore, he thinks I’m scary for some reason and I’m
not dealing with that from you.”
“He thinks everyone is scary. He thought I was scary for years,” Arashi says,
voice turning wistful and unbearably fond.
“You’ve known him that long and you’ve kept your hands to yourself?” Izumi
pulls Vale closer and leans over. “Are you human? He has a sexy accent and
everything.”
“Ugh, isn’t it wonderful? And it’s so sexy when he gets all breathy, and so
cute when he starts talking in dialect, I get hard enough to cut diamonds.”
Arashi shakes his hair out of its tie, sweeping it back again irritably. “But I
can’t leave him. And if I die, he won’t have anyone normal that can take care
of him. I...”
Arashi waves, helplessly, back at the camp, down at his uniform. “How
embarrassing. I did all this for him, so I could protect him. I thought, if I
was a commander of a host that could support a wizard, I could at least take
care of him, instead of everything the Academy wizards have to go through.”
“I don’t think it’s embarrassing. Ah…well, that’s not entirely true, it’s
always embarrassing to be that lovesick,” Izumi has to tease, because when else
will he get the opportunity, really. “But—I get it.”
He’s not quite drunk enough now to spill his guts about a certain prince, so he
glances skyward instead, blowing a strand of his loose hair out of his face.
“Ever thought about just running away?” he asks, not joking in the slightest.
“You’re good enough that they’d think twice about chasing you, especially if
you stole a wizard that was far more loyal to you.”
“Sure, if there were anywhere to go.” Arashi shrugs. “South, they kill you if
you’ve got the wrong color skin, and we do. West, it’s Inglings, and whatever
they’re fleeing is nothing I want to fight. East, it’s the ocean. North--well,
you’re from up there. Should we take our chances with your snowy mountains, do
you think?”
“Depends. How much do you like jumping into cold lakes in the middle of
winter?” The question is a dry one. “Point taken. I guess he’s not the type
that would enjoy running from place to place for the rest of his life, huh.”
“No. He can barely handle life in a protected room full of soft things and
stuffed animals. His...it isn’t really his mind, I suppose, but his heart isn’t
really right, you know? He worries about things that...” Arashi flutters a
hand, lost for words. “Things that don’t make sense. They hurt him inside. And
I can’t fight that kind of demon...Ahh, that’s more than you need to hear,
just...be aware. His master is close to the same. There’s a reason the King is
willing to let those two on the perimeter.”
“Mm. I got that impression. I’m sure I’ll hear more about it, Shu is actually
fairly forthcoming, even before you get him drunk. His idea, by the way,” Izumi
says with a roll of his eyes. “Not mine.”
Twigs snap in the surrounding forest, and the fluttering wings of a bird are
enough to put him on edge, but when everything goes still again, Izumi pays it
little mind. “If the king did lift those restrictions on wizards—would you be
with him?”
The smile that flickers across Arashi’s mouth isn’t a happy one, and his hand
moves to the hilt of his sword, current silence notwithstanding. “Better ask
him that than me. He hates the idea of everyone looking at him, even for a good
reason. Hmm, but I’ve thought of it, whisking him away to my Keep, keeping him
as my illicit lover that everyone knew about but ignored because I’m so
important to the realm. It’s only...”
“None of that, it’s a yes or no question. I’m not petitioning the eventual king
about this kind of nonsense for my health, you know.”
Arashi scowls. “Rude. Ask him, then.” The tense, unhappy line of his mouth is
back. “But if it’s what you’re asking, then yes, all things being equal, that’s
what I want. I’ve just always thought it would be too cruel to ask him if
that’s what he wants.”
“He spent the last half hour imagining it was his mouth on your cock, Captain,
not mine. I don’t think he could be more clear about what he wants.”
“I’m not saying he doesn’t want me, of course. Look at me, who wouldn’t?”
Izumi turns his head to look at Arashi, because why not, it’s an invitation.
“Sure. But what was it he called you in the heat of the moment—ahh, it’s
escaping me. See, there was a girl from the South that married one of the local
nobles at my mother’s estate, and she had the same accent your Mika does, and
spoke so sweetly to her husband in her native tongue…I think Mika used the same
word, maybe I should ask Shu what it means, he’d know, and he likes flaunting
his knowledge.”
“Kara,” Arashi says softly, and pulls up the ends of his cloak around his
shoulders, looking around the empty pass. “Damn bad luck of the Inglings to
pick tonight not to attack, hm? I was really hoping to wet my blade tonight.
The other one.”
“That’s the one. ‘Beloved’, something like that? But you probably already
know.” Izumi’s mind drifts for a moment, and he stares out into space, mind
tripping over the ridiculous, sugary-sweet nonsense he’s exchanged with Leo in
the past. Gods, some things can never be made public. “Why won’t you spar with
me?”
“Because you’re too good, I’m terrified to look weak in front of my men,”
Arashi quips, a serene smile back on his face.
“You bitch. Fight me like a man.”
“Pass, save it for when it matters.” Arashi flips a hand. “Ask my men, I don’t
fight duels.”
“I’m not challenging you to a duel, I’m telling you to spar with me. Asking.
I’m asking.”
“And I’m refusing. Learn to live with the disappointment, I’m not going to hurt
a page.”
“The fact that you think you can turns me on. You know, at this point, I think
I prefer Shu’s address for me rather than ‘page.’”
The corner of Arashi’s mouth twitches. “Then hurry up and prove yourself a
knight, or chop off your twig & berries and become his maidservant. Either way,
I’m not going to--”
The sound is quieter than a snapping twig, but more intent. Arashi’s sword is
in his hand before his mind even registers the threat, and he lurches forward
on Neigh, her back legs kicking out hard. That takes care of one of the
creatures now behind them, low, slinking beasts that remind Arashi of dogs
mostly, but with massive antlers, ready to eviscerate on a moment’s order. At a
rapid count, he senses five of the beasts, not counting the one currently
bleeding from a hoof in the brain. “Five,” he calls to Izumi with a wave of his
free hand at the beasts. “You have a spear?”
“Does it look like I have a spear, I just came from a party,” Izumi snidely
replies, grateful now that he’s back to being sober, even if a sober world
seemsmuch less entertaining. Vale snorts, head tossing as Izumi whirls him
around, sword already drawn. “I swear your Mika was making a plush toy that
looked like one of these things earlier.”
They seem to like attacking in pairs, but their wariness of Neigh makes them
lunge for Vale and Izumi instead. Izumi has none of it, releasing the horse’s
head entirely to let him do what he will when the first slithery dog-thing
snaps at him with its drooling, serrated mouth, and one of Vale’s massive
hooves crunches into an antler, snapping off part of it in a way that leaves
the creature shaken and hissing. Its partner remains undeterred, bounding up to
snap its teeth into Izumi’s boot, seemingly surprised that the owner of it
doesn’t shy away, but instead, stays fast and stabs the knife from the same
boot directly into its eye. Izumi rips it out and kicks the damned thing away,
visibly pissed off. Ow. Slithery, snaky, antler-y dog things bite hard.
Arashi hooks his boot into his stirrup, then throws himself into a massive
lean, draping over the side of Neigh’s back to whip his sword through one
creature’s neck. Its blood drips like ichor, running in sticky rivulets into
the ground. He hauls himself back up to the saddle, yanking a cloth from his
belt and hurriedly wiping off the tacky stuff. “Wipe your blade if you want to
keep it, snog blood is corrosive!”
His blood pounds in his veins, and a wild grin spreads across his face. This,
this is what he lives for. He nudges Neigh to a nearby tree, then reaches up,
yanking a massive branch until it cracks off in his hand, a good two meters
long. Urging Neigh back into the fray, he spins it once above his head to build
up momentum, then swoops, slamming the side of it into one snog so hard it
crushes the entire ribcage with one blow, hurling the creature into the side of
the mountain where it lays limp.
Corrosive blood and dumb names, excellent. Sounds like Borderland life for
sure. Izumi hurriedly wipes off the knife, just in time for the last, whole
creature to take a snap at Vale’s kicking hooves, and just in time for it to
take its teeth to the horse’s weaker leg, as if it can smell the weakness
there.
Izumi curses as Vale shrieks, and he leaps off before he can be thrown, sword
drawn like the spear he wishes he did have on his person at the moment when he
stabs the snog straight through the spine and twists, wrenching down through
its flesh. It flops like a gutted fish, teeth still gnashing in his direction
in its death throes, and Izumi kicks it off of his blade, barely taking the
time wipe his sword and sheath it before whipping his attention back to his
horse. His own foot stings, even if the injury is already a memory, but Vale is
openly bleeding, and obviously more furious than frightened.
“Easy, easy…that was five, wasn’t it?” Izumi finally gets a hold back on Vale’s
reins again, standing still and calm while the horse rears and blusters.
There’s not much else to do when his horse gets like this. Izumi can relate,
even with the bad timing. “Keep watch while I deal with him, will you?”
Arashi looks at the bite, then curses, gritting his teeth as he looks around.
“I’m sorry, Izumi. Their teeth are venomous. You’ll have to end it. I can do it
if you can’t.”
Izumi’s heart thuds too-fast in spite of himself, and he’s abruptly taken back
to his conversation with Shu earlier. I’ve never tested it on poison, so I
don’t know about that.
Well, he seems unaffected, so perhaps that counts as a test. He deliberately
keeps himself turned away, hoping Arashi’s obnoxiously keen eyes won’t take
note of the teeth marks in his own boot.
“I’ll kill you if you touch my horse,” Izumi mutters, waiting for Vale to stop
bouncing, and then finally losing his patience, snatching on the reins and
hauling him back firmly. “He’s Northern stock, don’t make light of that. Stop
it, you idiot. Maybe for once all of your fat will come in handy, huh? It can
absorb some of that venom.”
He crouches down, trying not to look like he’s in a hurry about wiping the
blood away from his horse’s leg with a cloth. The more he can do now, the
better, and he makes a point to massage and knead down the already swelling,
bleeding pastern. Vale snorts and shifts unhappily, dropping his head down to
grab up a mouthful of Izumi’s hair and chew, but Izumi ignores him, feeling his
eyes start to water. Venom—poison—whatever—it feels different underneath his
hand, as corrosive as that sticky, gross blood, and Izumi feels his stomach
turn.
But he also feels the venom’s course all but stop, and then wither, and the
relief from that makes him feel sicker than the actual effort.
Don’t throw up, don’t throw up. Izumi sucks in a shaky breath and he rocks
backwards, giving into the urge to sit down for a moment. Vale settles, still
chewing on his hair, and Izumi holds up a hand. “Just…give me a second.” It’s
fine if Arashi thinks he’s panicking about his horse. That’s an adequate excuse
for all of this.
Arashi sighs, dismounting and flipping Neigh’s reins over her back. “Guard,” he
tells her, and watches her posture change, eyes fixed on the road as he walks
towards Izumi, laying a consoling hand on his shoulder. “Is it your first
time?” he asks gently. “It’s fine if you can’t watch. But the spasms are going
to start soon, I’ve seen it a dozen times. You don’t want to see that.”
“You can stop talking shit about my horse at any point,” Izumi mutters,
shrugging off Arashi’s hand. Vale releases Izumi’s hair, spitting it out and
staring over at Arashi disinterestedly before turning his head to start
mouthing at a low-lying tree branch, as if nothing life-threatening had just
happened to him. Slowly, shakily, Izumi picks himself up, feeling his empty
stomach do another flip-flip. “If I puke again, I’m gonna scream,” he groans,
wiping a hand down his face. “Look, see, he’s fine. You can’t kill Northern
horses, there’s a reason why they’re built like they are.”
Arashi stares at the horse, acting in a way he would have said would never,
ever happen. Then he shuts his mouth, and exhales deeply. “Right. How much for
a hundred?”
“Uh—“ Shit, it’s the lotion all over again. “They’re not exactly common, you
know.”
“Yeah, I know, I can get lots of common horses,” Arashi says patiently. “I’ll
pay up to three hundred royals per head, or an equivalent exchange of sheep,
goats, bushbeans, hemp--anything we can grow in the mountains, I’ve got. What’s
your price, and how fast can I get a hundred?”
Doing the math on that makes Izumi’s eyes glaze. That’s not comfort for his
mother’s estate for a year; that’s comfort for a solid score. “…Twenty in two
weeks, the rest by the end of the year,” he manages, pulling the numbers
swiftly out of his ass. He’ll figure it out later, he always does. “But I’m not
contacting my mother about this unless you promise me one thing.”
“I told you to name your price, I’m a man of my word. No matter what my brother
might tell you, heh.”
“Fine. Then on top of what you pay for those horses, train with me. Me,
personally, until I’m sick of it.” Izumi would put a lot more fire behind those
words if he didn’t currently feel like dying. His eyes are bright, though, in
spite of the fever-flush to his cheeks. “I didn’t come here to babysit wizards
or become a foot soldier. I’ll do it, but that’s not why I’m here.”
Arashi purses his lips, but honestly, it’s not much of a decision, if he can
get his men mounts that can stand up to the snogs. “Deal. Sorry in advance,
you’re going to hate this.”
“No, you’re going to hate this, because I don’t quit.” Izumi’s stomach gives
another dangerous flip, and he turns away. “One second.”
So that’s what dealing with poison or venom does. He barely has a chance to
stumble to the side of the pass, bracing a hand against a tree as his already
very empty stomach comes up again, except—this time, it’s more or less black,
sticky and horrendously bitter, and Izumi dry heaves. He leans back, spitting,
trembling from how light-headed he suddenly feels, but at least his stomach
isn’t trying to claw its way out through his mouth anymore. “Fuck this,” he
mutters, wiping the back of his mouth and cringing. “Do you have a hair tie? I
left mine with those stupid wizards.”
Arashi pulls an extra leather tie out of his saddlebag, handing it over along
with a skin of water. “I’ve got one of wine, too, but I feel like you’ve had
enough of the hard stuff for the night, my delicate flower. Are you going to be
all right to ride home?”
Izumi snatches both out of Arashi’s hands and downs half of the skin before
passing it back. “What’s the other option, leaving me on the mountain pass?” he
moodily snaps, tying his hair back from his face. If Arashi thinks he’s a
lightweight, then mission accomplished. “I’m fine. I want a long, cold bath,
but I’m fine.”
Arashi ties his skin back up, securing it to his saddlebag, a little smile
playing over his face. “I’ll see what I can do for Milady in our encampment.
Try not to demand too much, we’re just humble country folk.”
What he doesn’t need right now is his body rousing horrifyingly. Izumi’s face
flushes for a different reason other than poison-fevers. “As expected, that’s
better than ‘bastard page’,” he grumbles, though there’s no bite to his words.
That name is firmly reserved, thank you. “You better have wet your sword enough
now to be satisfied for the night.”
“One of them, at least,” Arashi says cheerfully. He grabs the massive branch
he’d used as a club earlier, then tosses it off the side of the mountain,
letting it crunch its way down the cavern. Next, he grabs a snog by the leg,
grimacing. “Help me toss these corpses off, I don’t want our beasts dealing
with that shit tomorrow when the column comes through. Do not get cut on their
teeth, I don’t want to have to toss you off the cliff too.”
“Are you human?” Izumi deadpans for what feels like the twentieth time around
Arashi, watching him sling things around that should not be slingable. He idly
wiggles his bitten toes—yep, still good, his boot’s the only real damage—and
grabs the tail of one of the snogs with a wince. “Gross, they’re slimy.”
“Aren’t they ugly? Seriously, gross.” Without even a grunt of effort, Arashi
lifts the beast one-handed, tossing it over, then pulls out a handkerchief to
wipe his hand fastidiously. “I was really hoping it would be Inglings. Snogs
are awful, I hope they’re just a wild pack and not an infestation.”
“Seriously nasty,” Izumi grouses, dragging his own gross creature over to the
ravine with much more effort, and makes a face at the sick, splattering noise
it makes when it gets kicked over. “I’m gonna throw up again.”
“What a shame, and after your Captain was kind enough to personally feed you.”
Arashi lobs the last snog over the side, then swings back onto Neigh’s back.
“Maybe if you’re a good girl, you’ll get breakfast before the rest of the
troops do.”
Izumi wipes his hands before he dares to touch his horse, and pulls himself
back up into the saddle, dragging Vale’s head up from munching contently on
grass as if absolutely nothing happened to him. “Stop it,” he bluntly says, “or
I’m going to live in your tent.”
Arashi laughs, a post-battle high still pumping through his veins as they head
back towards camp. “Begging to fight me, begging to service me...I really made
a nice choice when I snatched you out of the court fire, eh? What were you
doing for entertainment in the stuffy Capitol, you belong out here.”
“It’s not begging, it’s demanding,” Izumi snidely shoots back, nudging Vale up
to fall into stride next to Neigh. “I was doing whoever I wanted, for the most
part. If you want me to beg, give me a reason to.”
“Please, all I’d have to do is order you to beg and you’d do it.” Arashi winks.
“Want to try me? Or are you still seriously vomity?”
Izumi pointedly does not disagree, and considers instead, taking stock of
whether or not his stomach wants to roll its way out of him again. “As long as
you’re not trying to test my gag reflex again. Not tonight.”
“Mm, not tonight indeed. I think...I’ll make you wait a bit. Heh. Unless Mika
wants another show.” His mouth thins slightly. “I think he’s a little upset
with me. Damned if I know why.”
“Because you’re touching someone that isn’t him, and obviously enjoyed it.”
Izumi’s eyebrows raise. “Maybe don’t touch me in front of him, actually. I
don’t want to die by wizard fire or whatever. Even Shu warned me that he’s
weird about you and I shouldn’t even mention you.”
Arashi huffs, frustrated. “But I’m not allowed to touch him, he knows that. He
liked it most of the time...I was doing it for him, he knows that, he’s a smart
boy.”
“Uh huh. Going out on a limb here, but I bet I’m the prettiest one yet, and you
weren’t like, faking that you got off pretty damned fast. And Shu liked me.”
Izumi shrugs. “He’s jealous that it isn’t him. So please don’t touch me in
front of him again, I think he might kill me.”
“...Damn.” Arashi’s teeth grind. “Tell your prince to hurry up and become king
before my cock falls off with how bad I want him, yeah?”
“Trust me, I’ll tell him.” Izumi hesitates, weariness and annoying, niggling
sympathy getting the better of him. “It’ll make it better, when you finally do
get to have him,” he says, idly twisting Vale’s mane around his fingers. “How
many years has it been?”
A grimace twists Arashi’s mouth, and he slides back in his saddle, throwing a
leg over the pommel to ride lazily sidesaddle. “We’ve always been...bumping
into each other, I guess you’d say. Fate, or whatever. I was fostered down in
the South--I was born unlanded, did you know? Father had no title, no land, we
were just country bumpkins, being frivolous and silly all the time. He fostered
me out down South, so I was around when he bloomed. I didn’t know him, but I
saw the destruction.” He shivers. “That gives me more nightmares than any war
I’ve ever seen, even now.”
Izumi mentally does some of the math. “Wait—doesn’t wizard training take ten
years, or something like that? I swear he doesn’t look a day over fourteen.
Have you two been flirting since you could barely walk?”
“Ah, damn, do I really look like that much of a pervert? Blessed gods, save me
from Izumi’s wicked mind!” Arashi’s hand flies to his chest in mock-horror,
laced with just a bit of actual horror. “He’s the same age I am, darling. He
just looks young. And I didn’t know him then, I was just a child and he was the
blooming wizard that called a score of ghost-monsters to murder a city.”
“You should be grateful I wasn’t judgmental, because you are absolutely a
pervert,” Izumi snippily replies. “And that’s…yeah, don’t hit me. Your cute
Mika is very creepy.”
“Mm, I wouldn’t hit you, he’s creepy. But in a really cute way. Anyway, about
fifty people died. I ran down to go help with my little sword, imagine little
seven-year-old me with a dull blade looking awfully cute, and I saw the King’s
wizardcatchers come to take him away. We were all expecting to see some hulking
brute get hauled out of that little hut, but...it was just a little boy in rags
with a patch over one eye.” Arashi swallows hard. “I didn’t see him again for
years, but I always remembered the pain on his face.”
“To the point that you sought him out at the academy and everything?” Izumi
whistles quietly. “Or was that coincidence, too? Ah, that’s some red string of
fate stuff, you can’t fight that.”
“Right on the mark,” Arashi admits with a sigh. “When I was a squire, Sir Eren
used to have me run errands for him, literally. He thought the best thing a
knight could have was a sound body, so the faster I could run, the more he’d
spoil me. I got a bit of a reputation, heh, so I wound up running a message
from the Palace to the Academy--it’s a dangerous route, and they’d already lost
a bunch of messengers.” He grins. “They didn’t lose me. So I became the one to
deliver messages there and back. And the second I saw him, with that hair and
those big eyes, I knew it was him.”
“This sounds like the romance novels my mother reads, I’m not joking.” It’s not
like he’s invested now or anything. “Did he recognize you? Or did he not
imprint like a duckling like you did?”
Arashi’s heart flutters, and he squeezes the pommel of Neigh’s saddle. “He was
too out of it that day. But I didn’t know...he used to sneak into the Palace
dressed as a serving boy to watch the nobles dance at night. He used to see me
there. So. We started talking then, even though we weren’t supposed to. If we
wanted to go out and talk, we’d both put on dresses and wigs so no one would
recognize us.”
Izumi looks Arashi up and down, openly skeptical. “You can pass as a woman?
Right, you were younger. Taking your word for it. I’m marveling at your self-
control, I’ll admit.” Never mind that he sat on his hands for a solid seven
years and didn’t kiss his prince until Leo started it first, but… “If I were in
your shoes and I knew he wanted me, I’m not sure I could help myself, life or
death be damned.”
“It isn’t just that.” Arashi’s voice is wistful, eyes unfocused as he looks
back towards the camp. “He’s my best friend. I’ve never felt like someone
understood me like he does.” Then he shakes his head, laughing at himself.
“Also, I tried to run away with him, and he made me swear I’d never ask again.
Apparently after I did that he couldn’t sleep for a week because he had raging
nightmares that I was going to be murdered because of him. They make the wizard
watch, you know. And it isn’t a quick execution.”
“That,” Izumi bluntly says, “is fucked up. What good is that supposed to do but
drive them even more insane?”
“Given that there’ve only been two cases of it happening in a decade, I think
it’s supposed to be more of a deterrent,” Arashi says mildly. “Apparently they
have quite a long unit on that sort of thing in the Academy, as well, drilling
into them that anyone who touches them in their naughty parts is going to be
eviscerated in front of them, because their magic is holy and only to be blah
blah blah. Anyway. I finished my squireship and made a name for myself so I
could commandeer a wizard. I didn’t expect him to show up with his master, but
apparently they can’t travel apart. And it does make me look very fancy, to
have two wizards under my command, eh?”
“Yes, yes, you’re very fancy,” Izumi dryly agrees, reaching over to pat the top
of Arashi’s head sarcastically, like he would Leo at any given point. The
sudden, relaxed reflex of it makes him feel awkward, and he withdraws his hand
in a hurry. “Your love life is a mess.”
Arashi darts a look sideways. Had his trainee page just patted his head? Yes,
from the embarrassed flush on Izumi’s face, he had. In retaliation, Arashi
reaches over and musses Izumi’s hair with a little laugh. “Isn’t it just? Ah,
well. At least I’m in good company. So. Is it one-sided, or does he love you
back?”
“My love life isn’t a mess,” Izumi grumbles, swatting Arashi’s hand away with
little actual irritation. Are we close enough for me to drop names? I did suck
his cock. We did just talk about his not-quite-lover in depth and he could get
killed for that. He has been flirting with me. Izumi’s gaze flickers sideways,
then away again. “For all your spies telling you I’m a desperate womanizer,
you’re very certain it’s a man, huh?”
 “In my experience,” Arashi says, no trace of malice in his voice now, “men
with female lovers that make them stare wistfully off into space don’t hesitate
to talk about them.”
Ah. Fuck. Has he been staring off that much? A sudden, startling prick of tears
to his eyes follows, and Izumi wants to slap himself, horrified at the
reaction. “Gods,” he groans, burying his face into one hand. “I’m worse than a
woman. Put me down now.”
A clean handkerchief is offered, dangled from Arashi’s fingers. “First time
apart? He lives in the Capital, right?”
“Don’t make me talk about it, I’ll—“ Izumi huffs, flustered, and he snatches
the handkerchief away in spite of his words. This is the worst. He hadn’t
realized it would be the worst, either, or he wouldn’t have even started this.
Arashi needs to go back to talking about his doomed romance instead, so he can
stop thinking about Leo’s twilight-colored hair, the ink always on his hands
and cloaks, the way he always smells a little like fresh parchment or rosin…
“Yeah. He lives there. We haven’t been apart in…seven, almost eight years.” His
voice is a little raw, courtesy of forcing himself not to cry. “And I didn’t
have much of a chance to speak to him, before I left.”
“Tell me about him. The good things. You don’t have to spill his name if you
don’t want to, I know how these things are. Heh, though you know enough about
me to have my skin ripped off by birds, if you wanted, but...” Arashi shrugs.
“I’m allowed to risk my life, I won’t ask you to risk your love’s life.”
“It’s…not a matter of risking his life,” Izumi admits with a ragged laugh,
carefully dabbing at his eyes, refusing to scrub at the skin and give himself
early wrinkles. “Or mine. I…gods, this is the worst, I never thought I’d hate
being away from him so much, but here I am.”
Izumi sucks in a soft breath and tilts his head back, blinking back the sharp
sting of tears. “He’s the most beautiful thing in the whole capitol. Too smart,
can’t sit through a class to save his life, he’s never been able to. He won’t
shut up about things that aren’t real—unicorns, or creatures from the moon,
that’s his damned favorite, it drives me crazy. He has the prettiest singing
voice I’ve heard, and spends all of his time writing songs that no one will
ever hear, because he thinks he’s awful at it, and th—his father tells him it’s
a waste of time.” His heart thuds hard in his chest, aching, and Izumi’s
fingers bunch the handkerchief up tightly. “And I’ve never met a better shot.
Your archers have nothing on him. He could shoot you a star out of the sky if
you pointed out the one you wanted.”
Arashi’s chest flutters as if it’s his own romance Izumi is talking about,
tears coming to his eyes. Beautiful love stories have always managed to get him
emotional, and this one sounds incredibly forbidden, incredibly beautiful. “He
sounds like a real prize,” he says softly, hopefully in a way that sounds like
he understands. “Does he love you back, are you two...or is it tragic? It can’t
be easy, with two noblemen.”
Mutually assured destruction. An annoying, sentimental part of Izumi’s mind
reminds him that such things exist—not that he’d ever know it before. Without a
single friend in the capital city aside from Leo, the idea of such things
is…stupid, at best, but…god, he does know enough to have Arashi killed, doesn’t
he? And the idea that someone else can understand, or even just vaguely relate,
sounds like such a relief that his eyes threaten to water again. “Don’t put me
in the same category as him.” Izumi swallows, his fingers trembling. “Bastards
from the country and crowned princes—that’s not the same.”
Arashi exhales slowly, his eyes widening. “God. You’re going to think I’m
really stupid, but I honestly didn’t guess,” he admits, wiping a wrist over his
forehead. He rides in silence for a moment, then says softly, “That’s not the
same, you’re right. That’s, whoof. That can’t be easy.”
Izumi’s shoulders sag, and he slowly slouches forward, just lying down against
Vale’s neck for a moment. “Thank god,” he eventually exhales. “I thought you
already knew and were going to mock me relentlessly for being the most obvious
fool in the world.”
“Listen, Lady, you’re giving me credit I do not deserve,” Arashi says airily,
reaching over to pat Izumi’s shoulder, then squeeze it. “So? Have you told him,
or are you just watching from the--ohhhh, your decision to wait until he needs
a squire makes so much more sense, wow, nice job, Arashi.”
Izumi straightens with a huff, for once not slapping Arashi’s hands away. “I
thought it was obvious at that alone,” he admits wearily, shutting his stinging
eyes. “I…we’re…very…involved. Stake out his bedroom and know the exact
schedules of his guards and climb up the trellis, that sort of thing.” He rubs
at the back of his neck, embarrassed by how ridiculously overblown it all
sounds. Now who’s the one out of a romance novel? Ugh.“So when I say I’ll bring
certain agendas to the table when he finally is king, I’m serious. He’ll hear
what I have to say.”
Arashi lets out a low whistle. “I’d say so. Ahhh, that’s so romantic, though!
I’m glad he loves you and you get to be with him.”
And then, because he’s so embarrassingly weak to this kind of thing, he
squeezes Izumi’s shoulder again. “I meant it when I said what I did about your
Kingsguard. Any of my men you want, you can have. You’ll want me on the Western
border, so I won’t do it myself, but you’ve got an ally.”
Izumi snorts at that, and wipes at his eyes again. “Unless I fuck this all up
extraordinarily,” he only half-jokes, because what else can he say when he
feels so vulnerable? “You are looking at the next Captain of the Kingsguard.
So…thank you.” He hesitates, then tiredly adds, “Do you understand now why I
can’t be anything but perfect? This kind of thing is why I was so annoyed that
you wouldn’t as much as give me the time of day for a spar. I wasn’t asking to
make a point of my skill; I’m asking to hone it. For him.”
Arashi nods slowly, then swings down from Neigh’s back, setting her to guard.
“Come at me, then.”
Izumi stares at him through bleary, disbelieving eyes, and sniffs, throwing the
borrowed handkerchief into Arashi’s face. “Are you letting me sleep in your bed
tonight?”
Arashi rolls his eyes. “What kind of Captain of the Kingsguard would turn down
a fight because he’s tired and sick? That’s my condition for sparring with you-
-you spar when I want, where I want, so get off that unkillable beast of yours
and draw your sword.”
“I’m not turning you down, listen to the question.” Izumi slides off of Vale’s
back, and like the great unkillable beast that he is, he promptly puts his head
down to eat. “I’m asking—are you letting me sleep in your bed tonight, after
all of this?”
The second time around, Arashi hears not just the grumpiness and the weariness,
but the loneliness, and his heart softens, though his stance doesn’t relax in
the slightest. “I was going to drag you there no matter whether you wanted me
to or not,” he says with a smile, and draws his sword. “Now. Come see why I
wasn’t going to spar with you.”
Izumi’s lips twitch in spite of himself, and he cracks his neck with a tilt of
his head, sorting out tension he’s held there for days as he draws his sword.
“Heh. Good. Your bed better be softer than the shit I’ve been on for the past
week, Captain. Let’s have some fun.”
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
Arashi’s bed is soft, but nothing else about him is.
Izumi is a mix furious…and thrilled. He feels like a toddler again, which
infuriates him. At the same time, a goal in sight makes him energized, even if
it means going to the point of exhaustion, having to be the one to concede for
the first time since he was seven, probably. He vaguely remembers collapsing
into Arashi’s bed face first, every muscle tingling unhappily. A strange little
penchant for healing only works so well in a war of attrition (and when your
opponent is so powerful and fast), especially after a night of overstimulation,
drinking, and a very empty stomach.
Waking up warm and thoroughly cuddled, however, isn’t the worst thing that has
happened to him recently.
Still sore, still tired, still an odd mix of cranky and elated by it, Izumi
makes a vague show of knocking a hand against one of the wooden poles of the
wizard’s canopy setup for the day. “Morning,” he greets before stepping inside,
a basket on one arm. Today, Mika hisses at him directly, diving into what
appears to be the kind of pillow-and-blanket fort contraption he remembers
making as a child. “Right,” Izumi says, stifling a yawn. “You do that. These
honey rolls are very fresh, by the way. Eat up, I’m…” He makes a beeline for a
chair. “Sitting.” 
Shu, sitting in his high-backed chair, darts a needle in and out of a patch of
his robes, not even looking down at his hand. “You look like you were on the
lower side of a stampede,” he says bluntly. “You’re supposed to be on top of
the horse.”
Izumi collapses the second he hits the chair. “Fend for yourself today, the
only body I’m guarding is my own.”
“What happened to all that special stamina of yours yesterday?” Shu asks,
amused. “How am I supposed to look at your beauty if you’re so pathetically
downtrodden--if pleasuring a man with your mouth does this to you, I must
rethink whether I despise my own imposed celibacy.”
Izumi flutters a hand at him. “Don’t be absurd, this isn’t because of sex.
Well, not in the way you’re thinking.” His eyes glaze. “Arashi—ah, the Captain,
he’s…”
Mika’s pillow fort collapses with an irritated rustle.
“A very challenging person to spar with,” Izumi quickly settles upon, not
allowing himself to wax poetic and compare the whole ordeal to sex like he’d
like to. Making a joke along the lines of ‘I think I’m in love’ would be in
poor taste, but more specifically, it would be a surefire way to die. “I’m
taking one of these honey rolls,” he adds, grabbing one with trembling fingers.
“I’m so exhausted, I can’t decide if I want to die or run from here to the
capitol—that kind of feeling.”
Shu’s eyes light up. “I know the feeling,” he assures Izumi. “I had a friend
much like that once. I always beat him in the end, of course, no matter what
he’ll tell you. It’s exhilarating, is it not? Did he trounce you very
thoroughly? At least you’re still beautiful.”
Mika isn’t killing him yet, and he’s quiet now that his fort has collapsed, so
Izumi takes what liberties he can with that. “I swear he isn’t human. He’s so
strong, what the hell, I don’t think I’ve ever been thrown that far before.”
His eyes flutter as he flops against the back of his chair. “I haven’t had a
sparring partner that could beat me since I was a child. This is the best thing
that has ever happened to me. I want to kill him. Ahh, do you have parchment
and ink, I have to write a couple of letters when I can finally make my arms
work…”
Shu sets his sewing neatly aside, then pulls out a box, unclasping it to reveal
several finely pressed papers, pens, blotters, and pots of ink. He sets up
fastidiously on the table, sharpening a quill pen and whetting the tip, then
looks up expectantly. “What should it say?”
Izumi blinks over at him. “Oh. No, that’s not necessary. Give it to me, I’m
writing it.”
“Your arms don’t work, don’t be ridiculous. My penmanship is the most accurate
and beautiful there is. Whoever you’re writing should burst into tears of
gratitude to receive such a gift as my penmanship. Now. To whom should I
address it?”
“…I’m sure it’s beautiful, and I’m sure they’d appreciate it, but—“ Izumi
hesitates, then hesitates again, and sighs heavily. “One is to my mother. I
don’t think I’m actually capable of saying those sorts of sentiments out loud,
so while the offer is, ah, very kind of you…”
Shu passes the paper over, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “If she is a
good woman, she deserves the most beautiful script you can muster. Don’t be
ashamed of your feelings for her. Here, blotting sand.”
“My handwriting is just fine, thank you,” Izumi mutters, forcing himself to sit
up no matter how his limbs creak and groan. “And I’m not ashamed of my
feelings. I just don’t think anyone else needs to be privy to them. Oh, I
wanted to tell you—against poison. It works.”
“Oh?” Intellectual curiosity flares, and Shu leans forward, sewing forgotten.
“What sort of poison? How was it ingested? Did it feel just like healing a
normal wound?”
“Ah, it was venom, I guess, technically, but…” Izumi makes a face. “Those gross
snog things. One nipped me, and my horse. It didn’t seem to take more effort,
but I threw up afterwards.” And then again earlier this morning, which isn’t
helping his fatigue, surely. “I could actually feel it stop working, it was
very strange.”
“Hmm...fascinating. That’s very good to know. Are you going to make your
services available for others, or keep them to yourself? There isn’t a wrong
answer to that, you know. I just want to know. Oh, and I’ve ordered several
rare scrolls that might pertain to the source of the matter,” Shu adds,
remembering. “I don’t know at what point they’ll arrive, especially as we’re
slated to move out tomorrow, but eventually I’m certain I can discover the
answer, even if I have to See into the past. That’s something most wizards
can’t do, ha!”
Izumi’s stare is wary when he glances up from his letter writing. “I’m
literally never telling anyone else if I can help it. I’m not getting picked up
and shipped off, no way in hell.”
“I’m not certain whether it helps or hurts,” Shu says with a slight frown, “but
you wouldn’t be taken to the Academy. You’re not a wizard. In the Capital,
you’re high-born enough, they might just kill you. But in the outer
provinces...”
“Picked apart for science?” Izumi guesses in a deadpan, shaking his head as he
turns back to writing after briefly shaking out the lingering numbness in his
sword arm. “None of that appeals, thank you. You’re only the third person to
know—fourth, I suppose, Mika is here and ignoring me—and I’ll keep it that
way.”
“Yes, he’s pretending you don’t exist, don’t foul the waters by talking about
him,” Shu says curtly. “Oh, I wanted to ask. What time of the year were you
born? Many of the spirits and gods that could be your father are seasonal.”
“The second of November. Talking about how my father could be something inhuman
is very creepy.”
Shu blinks. “Honestly, what else could it be?”
“I…I don’t know. That doesn’t mean it isn’t disturbing.”
 —business matters aside, though I loathe to ask, do you remember—
No, he can’t ask that.
Izumi scratches it out, and instead opts to wax poetic about his handsome
captain. “If that is the case about my father—is there still a chance I
could…turn, somehow? In something that isn’t human?”
“Of course. I’m not entirely an expert on the lore, but...hmm, let me see if I
can remember some of the older legends.” Shu steeples his fingers, resting them
against his chin as he thinks. “There’s the legend of the manticore’s bastard,
Sir Gevrial, from the Scarlet Age. He could set fires with his mind, but not
wizard fires, just the normal, campfire-sort. That’s the sort of attribute-
added existence I believe we’re looking at, though clearly not the same source.
I hope for your mother’s past sake that your father was something rather
more...human-shaped.”
Izumi closes his eyes, holding up a hand. “I’ll vomit on you for even
suggesting otherwise. Please. Remember what I asked? If for some reason this is
especially disturbing, I don’t want to know.”
Shu pales, far more than the threat would warrant, and pushes back from the
table. “Please do not threaten me with something like that again, I dislike
vomit more than you could possibly--Mika, I need Milady.”
Mika emerges after barely a second, wrapped up in one of his pillow fort
blankets as he hands off the doll to Shu in short order. His sullen glare in
Izumi’s direction speaks volumes, and Izumi heaves a sigh, burying his face
into one hand. “My apologies. I’m not going to, I promise.”
He signs the letter, folds it, and sets it aside to seal and send off later.
Now for the second one—which he feels a dozen times more self-conscious writing
with company, actually, and so Izumi hesitates, chin in hand. “You’re obviously
well-educated. Where is your family from?”
Shu’s jaw sets a little more proudly, and he draws himself up. “You have very
good taste, don’t you? Yes, you can see I’m aristocratic, even if my family was
forced to sell off their titles last century. They’re the finest silk merchants
in High Harbor. That’s where I was educated, before I went to the Academy. I
was well-known for being my tutors’ favored pupil, before I became far smarter
than they were, ha!”
“That does sound like you, yes. Does that mean you make your own clothes? I
noticed your sewing, it’s very fine.” Arashi is obviously not used to dealing
with this particular brand of noble, if he finds Shu difficult. Fostered in the
South indeed. Izumi stares down at the parchment in front of him, distracted,
still drained from confessing his thoughts the night before, and he slowly
slumps down, burying his face into his arms. Ahh, so this is my limit, I’m
ready to die now…
“Are you ill?” Shu asks bluntly. “If you die in front of me, I won’t forgive
you, you know. And yes, during my tenure in the Academy, I volunteered my
skills. Nearly every adult wizard you will meet is wearing one of mine these
days, since they all send them back to the Academy to be remade. That’s where I
met Mika, he was my apprentice.”
“Just thinking about how to write this damned letter.” Izumi shuts his eyes
while he can. If he thinks on it long enough, he can almost imagine Leo’s very
soft bed. “How are you with leather? A snog tore my favorite pair of boots last
night and I’m irritated.”
“Snogs are cute,” Mika lowly pipes up, and Izumi cracks open an eye. Yep, the
weird, plush thing Mika is still sewing together absolutely resembles one of
those snake-dog-things, how peculiar. “They’re just mad ‘cause they don’t have
anywhere warm t’be right now.”
“They literally want us dead.”
“Maybe they want you dead.”
Izumi lifts a hand in half-hearted surrender. It’s probably moot to mention how
they absolutely attacked Arashi, too.
“Give me your boots, I’ll regrow the leather if I have to,” Shu offers. “I
assume you like the shape they’re in right now, but if you want to change it,
this is the time. What were you doing letting snogs eat your boots? That seems
desperately counterproductive.”
Izumi hesitates, then decides he can’t handle this nonsense, and Mika can deal
with it as much as he has to deal with him. “The Captain and I checked the
perimeter last night, and a snog decided to try and take a chunk out of my
foot,” he flatly says. “You’re right, their existence is pretty damned
counterproductive.”
A sharp, fluttering wind suddenly cuts through the tent, and Izumi slaps a hand
down on his parchment to make sure it doesn’t end up flying away. Mika shifts
moodily, his eyes lidded where he still sits, needle moving methodically into
stitches that secure his stuffed snog’s head into place.
Shu looks critically down at the stuffed snog, mentally making a note to fix
the atrocious stitching once Mika goes to sleep. The poor creature doesn’t
deserve to be crooked forever. “So,” he says, changing the subject away from
that, “you finally got to spar against the Captain. You lived, at least.”
Izumi’s mouth twists, even though his eyes are sparkling again. “Yes. To hell
with him, he’s not human. I haven’t been so thoroughly beaten since I was first
brought to the capitol…ahh, I want to go again, I’ll die if I can’t,” he
groans, rubbing a hand across the back of his eyes. “Men like that don’t exist,
you know? You said you’ve had rivals, it’s such a rush, isn’t it? Especially
when they’re like-minded and can just enjoy the sport of it. Are you allowed to
contact other wizards, your friends and such? Or is that monitored heavily,
too?”
“It’s not exactly monitored or forbidden,” Shu hedges, “more that my beloved
rivals are...well, they’re busy lately. Yes, that’s it. Many of them are
working, many of them are...they’re very busy.”
“Uh huh. Busy. That sounds interesting.” Izumi laces his fingers together. “How
many rivals do you have? I thought there weren’t many wizards of your caliber.”
“Four.”
The voice isn’t Shu’s, but Arashi’s from the tent flap, raising one plucked
eyebrow. “Four others that are allowed to wear that color of robes in the whole
world, aren’t there, Excellency?”
Shu sets his sewing aside, eyes narrowing. “You’re in my space in a way I
dislike, Arashi. What are you doing here?”
“Sorry to disturb, but the Inglings have been sighted. I need one of you to
check for Berserkers before they switch.”
Izumi’s interest immediately perks, but it’s Mika that slowly rises, brushing
himself off. “I’ll go,” he quietly says, tucking his current snog project into
his blanket pile as if he’s tucking it into bed. “Izumi hurts my eyes, anyway.”
Immediately, Izumi sits back defensively, hands up. “Captain, I did not do a
single thing.”
“No one cares,” Arashi says curtly, voice very firm, giving Izumi a Look to
shut him up. “If he doesn’t want you around, you won’t be around him.”
“I want him around me,” Shu objects. “Izumi, you stay, I want to look at your
feet.”
“Mika, darling, you’ll come with me, I’ll be your big strong protector and keep
you safe, I promise!”
Izumi opens his mouth to say something else, then shuts up, and bends down to
unlace his boots. “Sure, feet it is. I’ve heard mine are rather unique, but you
can be the judge.” 
Mika’s lips purse, and he turns, walking out of the tent.
“He doesn’t like you,” Shu says. “Just so you know.”
“Really. I didn’t have the slightest clue.”
“Sarcasm? Very funny. Anyway, you’ve rubbed him quite the wrong way. He’s too
fond of that Captain.” Shu’s lips purse. “He’s getting too close, I’ll need to
intervene soon if it continues.”
“Don’t.” Izumi pulls his boots off, setting them aside. “I mean, do what you
will, I suppose, but…the Captain’s good at keeping his distance. I asked him
about it last night, he knows what he can’t do—until the prince is king, I
mean, heh.”
“You’re very confident that things will change. Yes, I’ve decided I like that,”
Shu announces, taking the ragged, torn-up boot and prodding at its
deficiencies. “Mika doesn’t understand how it feels to be in love when he isn’t
allowed to act on it. It would be better if someone explained that he should
cut contact now, before he gets in too deep.”
“If someone tells him that now, isn’t he likely to be incredibly upset,
especially because it more or less coincides with my arrival?” Izumi points
out, dropping his chin back into his hand. “He’ll think it’s because I stole
the Captain away or something. I’m interested in staying alive at this point,
you know.”
“Maybe you should steal the Captain away. It would do the both of you some
good.” Shu’s eyes flicker to the side, then he leans in, needle digging into
the tough leather. “Did you and the Captain do anything else last night? Tell
me in detail.”
Izumi snorts in amusement. “You like the look of us together, huh?” he teases,
drumming his fingers against his cheek. “I did sleep in his bed, if you must
know.”
The tip of Shu’s tongue flicks out, running over his lips. “I do very much like
the look of you together,” he admits. “Better if he were more beautiful, but
you’re enough for the both of you, I suppose. He’s provided these services for
us before, but...it’s different, with you. Tell me about it.”
“I thought it might be different. The Captain was worried about how Mika was
acting.” Izumi idly wriggles his toes against the ground. “Nothing happened
last night, after we left,” he admits. “We were both too tired. That doesn’t
mean nothing else will happen, though. I’m…” He makes a face, embarrassed,
annoyed with himself. “I’m not exactly used to sleeping alone, to put a fine
point on it.”
Shu exhales a breath through his nose, very slowly, as the needle digs into the
leather. “You can always tell me about it,” he says, trying to sound
unaffected. “I...enjoy stories. Think of me as a captive child hearing stories
from an adventurer.”
“That’s a bad way of looking at it. I was just thinking you were a handsome
voyeur.”  Izumi hesitates, glancing down at the empty parchment in front of
him, and he sighs, resigned. “So I have a lover, back in the capitol.”
Shu curses, shaking his hand out when his needle dives straight into his
fingertip. He ignores the welling drop of blood, returning to sewing the next
second. “Is he very beautiful? He must not be ugly if you’re his lover.”
“He’s very beautiful.” Izumi leans back into his chair, propping his feet up
onto the table. “Small, and cute, like a girl. Just a bit shorter than I am,
with…you know the kind of orange the sky turns, just before night rolls in?
That’s the color of his hair. Big, green cat eyes, and freckles, because he
can’t stay out of the sun.”
“Ahhh,” Shu breathes, closing his eyes. “I can picture the two of you together,
that’s quite a nice image. I assume he’s quite slender.” He opens his eyes
again, just to look at Izumi’s feet. Nice. “A warrior? Or a soft noble, or a
craftsman? I used to read romance novels, I had a friend who’d smuggle them
into the Academy for me. I always loved the nobleman who fell in love with the
humble tradesman...”
“You and my mother could have a conversation,” Izumi wryly says, tipping his
head back over the chair. “He’s an archer. That’s his specialty, at any rate,
that, and music. So all of the nice arms and hands and fingers you’d imagine to
come from that, but still slender, and soft in the right places. He likes to
fancy himself as something other than a soft noble, heh, but whisper anything
dirty to him and the how-dare-you’s and I-would-never’s always come out.”
“Does he blush prettily when he’s all flustered?” Shu asks eagerly, staying
focused on the sewing by sheer force of will. “I’ve always loved watching a
redhead blush, it’s so charming. I suppose I can’t blame you for not catering
to my forbidden love story, though it is quite rude.”
“Who says it isn’t forbidden love?” Izumi fires back, lips twitching. “He
blushes everywhere when he’s flustered, and it’s not like it’s hard. Mm,
anyway, remember, I’m a bastard from the countryside, even if I’m a noble. He’s
much more important than I. I’ve had to learn all of his schedules perfectly
and sneak into his chambers late at night just to be with him. It’s that, or
ride out into the wilderness and have him on the ground.”
“Have you done that?” Shu asks eagerly. “Have you had him on the ground? There
isn’t any such thing as too many details, you know. Ah, even though he’s so
important, that’s terribly romantic, to have the prince in the wilderness.”
He hears himself talk, and blinks. “Where did that--ah, you’re in harmony with
him while you’re talking about your lover. Yes, yes, he is very beautiful,
isn’t he?”
Izumi’s mouth snaps shut, and he stares, his own cheeks flushing. “Anyway,” he
mutters, because there’s nothing to be done now. Wizards are…difficult, aren’t
they. “I’m glad he’s to your taste, you should have an accurate picture now.”
He shifts restlessly, still flustered now that Shu, apparently, knows. “We both
know the trails around the palace like the back of our hand, so making a habit
of meeting out there to be together is…commonplace. He likes being on his back
in the grass, or the leaves, and he always pulls my hair down before he kisses
me.”
A shiver goes through Shu, but he does his best not to show it. He has enough
practice keeping such things off his face. “If it helps, I’m considered quite
mad, in the Capital,” he says lightly. “So even if I told anyone, no one would
believe me. I’m not mad, ha! I merely see things that most people never bother
to see. But yes, I like that, do you always penetrate him?”
Telling Shu that he was thinking the exact same thing—everyone probably thinks
he’s crazy, no one will believe him—isn’t helpful. Talking more about Leo is.
“Not every time…but most of the time. What’s your preference for me, hmm? I can
talk about either or.”
“I prefer to hear about you having it done to you, I suppose,” Shu says
thoughtfully, “because I’d like to imagine myself in that role. But if you do
tell me about the other way, please tell me about how you enjoyed taking care
of him, about how you made him feel. I’m quite particular in my tastes, though
I try to find enjoyment in all tales.”
“Mm. Then, maybe the time he had me in my own horse’s stall?” Izumi bats his
eyelashes. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to make any of this up. He and Leo are
just like this. “We intended to go on a ride in the middle of the night—snuck
out for it and everything, fully dressed for the cold—but he stuck his cold
fingers underneath my shirt and that was the end of it.” Izumi shifts, licking
his lower lip absently from the memory. “He had to go on a hunt with his father
in the morning, so…it made sense for him to take me instead. Not before I got
him ready with my mouth, though. He likes pulling on my hair, I swear he’s the
only reason I don’t cut it.”
Shu sways slightly in his chair, eyes glazing over at the idea of it. He can
picture it perfectly. That’s one of the benefits of having his artistic mind’s
eye. “Did it hurt, when he took you? Or was he careful, did he take his time,
do you like being touched there?”
“He never really takes his time with anything,” Izumi says with a snort, but
it’s affectionate when he says it, and his fingers curl distractedly against
the arms of his chair. “But it never really…hurts. It aches. Of course I like
it, why else would I be with another man?” His next breath escapes slowly,
hitching at the very end. “I like it when he takes me because he can leave as
many marks as he likes, and I don’t care. I always have to heal his—he can’t
look a mess, not the prince—but…I don’t care if I’m bitten up. Just little love
bites, especially, where you have to look twice to know what it is.”
Shu feels his cock stir, and he smiles slightly to himself. It feels so good to
hear it from another person, one who understands, even if it’s about someone
else. “It sounds like he’s somewhat rough with you. Is that true, or is that
just something that romance authors make up? It sounds awfully nice, but at the
same time I wonder if it’s something that feels as good in real life as it does
in fiction.”
“He’s very…enthusiastic. But it’s good, it’s like a little edge to things, you
know?” Izumi shivers, shifting restlessly again. “Especially when it’s just on
the edge of too much. I like that feeling, when his cock feels too big or his
fingers keep reaching the right spot or it feels too full after…after he
comes.” He huffs, and throws an arm over his face, pouting openly now. “Now I’m
really horny. Ahh, I hate this, I hate being away from him, I didn’t even get
to suck his cock before I left.”
“You love it.” The words come out like a whisper, and Shu leans forward, elbows
on the table, eyes intent. “I can tell. You love sucking on him, and the way it
feels in your mouth, don’t you? Does he talk filthy words to you, or touch you
like a gentle lover? Which do you prefer?”
When he accepted the task of being a wizard’s bodyguard, Izumi has to
admit—things like this were not included in the job description. He’ll take it,
though. Gods, will he take it. “Both…but, ah…” Izumi can’t help himself. His
fingers slide down his hip, hooking into the lacings of his breeches. “He has a
dirty mouth, when he’s riled. I…” He swallows hard. “I’m a picky eater. And I
forget to eat sometimes. Sometimes, it…it feels like I’ve saved myself all day
just for a drink from him, and…ah…when he mentions things like that when I’m
sucking him, or t-tells me I’m like a cat licking up cream…”
“You can stroke yourself,” Shu breathes, his own hand dropping to his lap. He
doesn’t grip himself, doesn’t need to, just rubs slowly against his
outstretched palm. All the words go right to his brain and it’s so easy to
imagine a handsome face above him, whispering those same words, thumbing at his
bottom lip the way the Captain had to Izumi the night before... “Or slide in
your fingers. Tell me again how you want to drink from his cock, tell me how it
tastes.”
Let me suck yours! Izumi wants to shriek, but that’s not helpful, nothing would
be helpful right now, so he gives up, unraveling those laces in short order to
tug his breeches down. “It’s, nn…” Izumi bites at his lower lip when his
fingers drag down over his own cock, his thumb rubbing over the tip, teasing
and tormenting himself when he’s already so hard he could die. “You won’t
believe me,” he groans, his head tipping back against the back of the chair.
“B-but he always tastes so good. That…that sort of muskiness that e-every man
has, but…sweeter, brighter—gods, he calls me his pet cat,” he says with a
breathless laugh, his other hand busying itself with pinching a nipple, and he
jerks with a hiccup of breath. “So when the Captain did that same thing last
night…do I act like a cat so much?”
“It’s the way you arch your back,” Shu breathes, eyes locked on the flushed red
head, the slippery slick surface that he catches a glimpse of each time Izumi’s
hand moves. “And the way you mewl. You have a cat’s lean, elegant grace, it’s
what I thought of the moment I saw you. Ah, that looks nice, would you like me
to call one of my bodyguards to feed you now? He’d be a stranger to you, but I
trust them.”
The hand on his nipple leaps up to quickly clamp over his mouth, stifling his
startled, gasping whine as he spills suddenly over his own fist. The mere
suggestion is enough, which is both embarrassing and arousing, and Izumi feels
his face burn. “Don’t—d-don’t call them, I…” He sags back, legs splayed as his
chest heaves. “Fuck. S-sorry, I’m quick, when I’m this riled up.”
Shu makes a dismissive, not entirely pleased noise, removing his hand. “I’m
going to take that as a compliment to my oratory skills. Do see that you retain
some self-control in the future, you’ve been quite inconsiderate about my
needs.”
“It’s a compliment, of course it’s a compliment. God, I’d suck yours,” Izumi
huffs unthinkingly, twisting sideways in his chair. “I bet you’d taste
amazing.”
Shu bites his lip, face flushed as he tries to turn back to his work. “I...have
no idea. I’ve never tasted such a thing, it’s always sounded quite sinful.”
“You survive on honey rolls, you’d taste sweet.” This is probably breaking
laws—he’s not touching Shu, though, and Arashi had certainly spelled out what
he’d do to Mika last night, so…maybe it’s fine, maybe. “Sweet, but…still so…”
Izumi licks at his lower lip, his lidding as they train onto Shu’s lap.
“Masculine. That’s my favorite. Take it out, let me see it.”
Shu hesitates, though his hand drops immediately to the front of his robes, and
his cheeks flush. “You have to promise not to touch,” he warns, voice catching
on an inhale. “I don’t know yet if I can trust you not to do that--perhaps I
should call someone else in just in case...”
“I won’t touch, I won’t. I didn’t touch the prince for seven years, I think I
can control myself for a day.” Izumi smacks the arm of his chair. “Take it out,
I want to see.”
Shu huffs out the ghost of a laugh, then tugs his robes to the side, and delves
his fingers lower, fumbling with what looks like incredibly complicated
underwear. “Just a moment. You can keep talking.”
I can seduce even wizards, Izumi smugly thinks to himself, and he curls up in
his chair, all but vibrating. “Would you like it if I had you in the stables,
too?” he breathlessly asks. “Either my mouth on you, or—I know how to make it
feel good, when I’m inside.”
“I’d want you to fuck me,” Shu breathes, yanking at the last layer of ties on
his underwear, then wriggling to get something off of his shoulders, a series
of straps that extend over his entire body. Something clunks underneath, a hard
material hitting the wood of the chair, and Shu grimaces. A few moments later,
the robes part, and the flushed red tip peeks out into the air as Shu lets out
a whimper. “I’d want you in me, I want you to take me over that table.”
Izumi’s breath catches up in his throat, and he has to literally sit on his
hands, pinning them to the chair as he twists in it to get a better look. The
reflex to just grab for Shu is strong, especially when it’s a habit that’s
become second nature. Girls that want him, men that want him, if they say that,
he can’t not touch.
“So you like being bent over like a whore, too.” Shu had liked the idea of that
last night, and Izumi can roll with it. “I bet you’re a natural at it. I bet
you’d like it so much that I could make you come on my fingers first, before I
even put my cock in you.”
Shu takes himself in a shaky, uncertain grip, as if he’s rarely wrapped a hand
around his cock before. He sucks in a breath, eyes closing for a moment, then
opening again to focus on Izumi’s beauty as well as his voice. “I love feeling
something inside me,” he breathes, eyes gone flaming pink with arousal, almost
glowing. “It’s...the easiest way, it’s like that’s how I’m meant to feel
pleasure, you’d help me, wouldn’t you?”
There’s really nothing fair about this, and Izumi exhales a frustrated noise,
his eyes lidded, dark when they follow the course of Shu’s hand, over the
length of his cock. It’s beautiful, of course, just like the rest of Shu, which
seems like such a waste. “Yeah, I’d help you,” Izumi murmurs. “I’d get you
ready first—long fingers, lots of oil, so you can be nice and slick inside. If
you like it as much as you say you do…you’d already be close just from that,
wouldn’t you?”
Shu nods fast, lashes fluttering as he strokes, the motion awkward, but
desperate. His other hand comes up to clutch at the table, to give himself
something to hang on to, grounding him, keeping him sane.
His memory flickers, and he remembers the slick delve of fingers inside of him,
opening him up, stroking him perfectly from the inside, pressing on everything
that had made his vision go dim, and he bites down on his lip. Izumi’s words
help, Izumi’s eyes help, but those memories are so bitterly strong that he
groans, nodding hard. “I’m already close, just--tell me how you’d put it in me-
-”
“I wouldn’t be gentle, but you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Izumi’s fingers
twitch, and he bites into his own tongue for a moment, distracting himself,
lest he grab for Shu’s cock and help. “If I just pushed you down over the table
and shoved it in you? Gods, I bet you’re tight, but it would fit in you so
well, like you’re meant to do nothing but take it.” He sucks in a sharp breath
through his nose. “I bet you’re a good boy, when you’ve got a cock in you.”
Shu’s orgasm takes him by surprise, though the wave building in him is so
strong it makes his whole body shake. He spills hot and fast and messy over his
hand, over his robes, closing his eyes hard to keep from making a stupid,
stupid decision. He pants, hand digging into the table, and only then realizes
there’s pink fire roaring into existence all around him, threatening all of his
possessions, threatening the very canvas tent. He douses it with a thought, and
the fire roars higher, sensing his weakness.
“Damn you,” he hisses, and clamps down hard, and the fire dies. “Ah. It...got
away from me.”
“…T…that’s a word for it,” Izumi manages, wide-eyed and reflexively having
scooted back both himself and his entire chair, uninterested in being singed by
wizard’s fire. “Sorry, was that too much? Shame if it was, you looked like you
enjoyed yourself.”
Shu shakes his head, looking absolutely flustered. “I...haven’t done that in
years,” he admits, staring down at his own knees, watching his cock shrink. “I
forgot how sensitive it is.”
“Sounds terrible,” Izumi mutters, snatching up a nearby towel to wipe himself
down and then straighten and relace his clothing. “I can barely go a week
without, fuck going years without. Can I touch you to clean you up, or is that
also not allowed?”
Shu huffs out a breath. “It would be allowed, if I trusted myself,” he admits.
“But if you touched me right now, I’d probably tackle you to the ground. Give
me a cloth.”
Izumi wryly tosses a clean cloth over before flopping back. “Put me on your to-
do list for when this stupid mess gets overturned, then. I’m fun.”
“You’re on the list,” Shu confirms, wiping himself down, hissing when it’s too
sensitive, and throwing the towel back. “You aren’t number one on the list,
though. Ugh, this was a bad idea, this shit takes forever to put back on.”
Izumi gingerly adds to the pile of dirty laundry, not without firmly resisting
the urge to pocket it. For reasons, so help him. “Who’s number one? You don’t
have to answer that, I just have to ask.”
Insert slat first, then straps, then laces, Shu thinks, trying to wriggle the
slat back into place without chopping off his damn cock. “He’s the man I showed
you last night, when we were drinking. The tall one, with the dark hair. Have
you ever heard of the King of Demons, from the Shadowlands?”
“That literally looks like the worst contraption I’ve ever seen, what the
actual fuck.” Izumi pauses, his eyebrows raising. “Isn’t he from a children’s
story or something? I mean, he looked very handsome either way, I can’t blame
you.”
Shu’s smile is thin, but amused. “He’d like to know he’s in children’s stories.
He is very much a real person, though. He...was my mentor, when I was at the
Academy.”
Now, the straps, and metal clinks into place, pulled by leather straps secured
all up Shu’s waist, then over his shoulders. “This is actually the worst,
you’re right. We all wear them. Technically, we’re not supposed to know how to
take them off in less than an hour, but there isn’t a thing about clothing I
don’t know.”
Izumi’s sigh is a long, put out one. “What a waste,” he says, and means it, but
decides to focus on the far better part of the conversation. “Did you and your
handsome mentor ever…”
“Gods, yes.” Shu cinches his straps tightly--they don’t lay right if they’re
not tight--and moves on to the blasted laces. “Not the whole way, but...I let
him touch me, do things to me. I’ve had his fingers in me, the night before he
disappeared. That was probably the best night of my life.”
“No wonder you know what you like so well,” Izumi teases, readjusting to drop
his feet down onto the table again and stretch out. “Though I am curious as to
what you mean by ‘disappeared.’ Like I said, all I’ve ever heard about that
name is from children’s tales, things like that, all to scare us into our beds
at night.”
One lace had come free, and Shu fusses with it for a long moment before finally
getting the end through the hole. Only five more to go. “He’s...old,” he says
finally. “Doesn’t look a day over twenty, but they say he’s nearly a hundred.
Sometimes he disappears for years. Sometimes he shows up on a black horse with
a demon army at his back in a time of great need. Sometimes he comes to the
Academy, so everyone thinks he must have been a wizard at one point. I’ve
heard--this is from him, so it’s probably not true, but he did say that the
prohibitions against wizards having lovers stem from his actions.”
Izumi laughs outright at that. “Sorry—the way you phrased that, you sounded
like a wife sick of your husband’s tall tales,” he snickers. “If he was a great
sex demon of some sort, perhaps that’s why you were so smitten. You have a
dirty mind already—that’s a compliment, don’t get upset.”
“I wasn’t upset,” Shu says mildly, hands entirely occupied with the laces.
They’re quite tricky, and if he gets them wrong and there’s an inspection,
they’re doomed. Fortunately, he’s quite adept at such things. “But I was
smitten because he understood me like no one else ever has, though his great
beauty and appeal didn’t hurt, of course. I suppose you could say he was a
guest lecturer at the Academy--they don’t like him, but they cannot refuse
him.”
“Sounds like you have excellent taste, then.” Izumi’s head tilts. “If he
must’ve been a wizard at some point…do the regular restrictions still not
apply? Or is he so good that he just laughs in the face of the king? I can
respect that.”
“That’s the one,” Shu says wearily. “He’s--ah, blast these laces, whoever
designed these was a madman--he’s a very dangerous man, though he hates to hurt
people. The King’s father tried to apprehend him once, and lost his most
valuable men. Now he just sort of pretends Rei doesn’t exist, as long as he
doesn’t make too much trouble.”
“Damn, he even has a sexy name,” Izumi jokes, hauling himself upright. “I
really don’t stand a chance. Do you need some help? If you tell me what to do,
I can follow along—and I won’t touch, I promise.”
“They’re spelled, if someone who isn’t a wizard touches them when they’re
undone, it’ll flare.” Shu’s mouth twists. “It’s almost as if they don’t trust
us to make our own decisions.”
“This is literally the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard of,” Izumi bluntly
retorts. “At some point, make a list for me of things that don’t make sense, so
I can show it to the prince as a high priority note of reform.”
“If you want my first priority?” Shu asks abruptly. “Of what I think the worst
thing for wizards is that I want changed?”
“Yes, and I’ll bring it to the prince-soon-king directly, you have my word.”
Shu abandons his laces for a moment, facing Izumi directly. “Don’t force us to
kill,” he says softly. “Killing with your mind is the most awful thing. It
warps you, forever. We should have the option that humans have, to become
tradesmen or craftsmen.”
Izumi realizes he’s probably not the best choice of someone that could
sympathize with that—blood and battle and killing has always fascinated him in
more than one way, but he nods all the same, leaning back in his seat. “Noted,”
he quietly says. “I’ll make sure he hears that first…along with every other
grievance, of course.”
“Good, it’s a long list, you just asked for the most pressing one.” Shu finally
manages to get his laces properly tied with a sigh of relief. “Blasted things.
What if his wife disagrees with you, by the way?”
“Then I’ll fuck her and she’ll find me as agreeable as anything ever could be.”
Shu blinks. “Oh. You like women as well? How odd, I should think that liking
women, you’d confine yourself there.”
“Women…are easy,” Izumi settles upon. “I appreciate the way they look, and I
like their reactions. They react in ways men typically don’t to advances, you
know? It’s cute, when they laugh and blush and try to swat you away while
they’re still pulling you close. But don’t take it the wrong way—I still prefer
men. That’s just not something you say or advertise in the capital, if you want
men to respect you, especially if you look like I do…and especially if you’re
trying to cover up a certain relationship.”
Shu nods slowly. “I’ve never been able to camouflage a relationship with
another relationship, but I see the appeal. How well does it satisfy you, to
make love to the one you don’t really want?”
“Sex feels good, so it feels good,” Izumi says with a shrug. “I don’t think of
it as making love, it’s just fucking. It’s making love if it’s…” He flutters a
hand, suddenly embarrassed. “With him. Ugh, I’m no good at words when it comes
to him.”
“I like hearing you talk about him,” Shu says, doing up the last of his laces,
then tugging his robes back into place, shaking out his hands. “Ah, cramp. You
sound so different when you talk about him. It’s like his thoughts when they’re
about you.”
“Good to know it’s not one-sided idiocy,” Izumi mumbles, wiping a hand down his
face. “I’m supposed to be writing him a letter as well, but gods help me, I’ll
just make a fool out of myself.”
“I’ll write it for you,” Shu volunteers. “My words were prized back in the
Academy when the students wanted to write their families.” He pauses, then
adds, a little embarrassed, “And a few of the most popular love songs in the
Capital in the last few years are my creations, as well. Every Pluck of the
Rose was mine.”
Izumi promptly shoves the parchment across the table in Shu’s direction. “He
won’t stop humming that damned song. Please, I’m actually begging now.”
Shu smiles smugly to himself, dunking his pen nib in ink, then starting to
write in elegant calligraphy. “I suppose his songs aren’t too terrible either,”
he admits, with obviously false bitterness. “His pseudonyms are so silly, I
always know it’s him. We used to sing them at Academy, after lights-out.”
“He’d be thrilled to know that. The king thinks it’s a waste of his time, to
focus on music at all.” Izumi settles back, folding one leg back into his lap,
and digs his fingers into his own foot, kneading away soreness. “Leo—he doesn’t
have much of a head for war. It stresses him, no matter how he tries to pretend
it doesn’t. Governing, sure, politics, fine, music, definitely, but actual war,
fighting, killing…that’ll be on my shoulders.”
Shu nods slowly, focused on the words, beautiful script flowing like water from
his pen, flying across the paper with words of frenetic, all-consuming love
that he knows too well. He includes some of the things Izumi has said--the hair
the color of twilight, the soft strong archer’s hands, the sparkling green
cat’s eyes--to make it personal, but the lurching, tremulous feelings are his
own. If only he could write a letter...
But he has. He’s written hundreds of them, but Nazuna never responds.
It’s a relief to write to a lover instead of a beloved, warming him deep
inside. “Then you’ll be invaluable to him, of course. Mika...he doesn’t mind
the killing. It’s why he volunteers for the front lines when I’m not...feeling
my best.”
“While you’re under my care, you won’t have to kill anyone. I’m here to hone my
blade so you don’t have to.”
Shu’s mouth tenses. “But you’re so beautiful. I’d die rather than seeing
something so beautiful get hurt.”
“I can heal myself in the time you’re hesitating about whether or not to kill
something for my sake. I’m not going to die.”
The quill pauses in midair. Shu’s face goes dark with shadow. “Please do not
think,” he says quietly, “that because I despise killing I am inept at it. That
would be a dangerous miscalculation.”
“I didn’t say that. I said you don’t have to kill anything while I’m here,
that’s all. My prince could pick off a line of enemy soldiers better than any
archer in this army, but would he want to? No, so he doesn’t have to.” Izumi
switches to his other foot, shaking his head. “Do you know how many times I’ve
been stabbed or cut or broken a bone? The only scars I have to show for it are
my own test subjects.”
“What’s wrong with your feet?” Shu asks, changing the subject. There’s no need
to keep pressing the point that he excels at something he hates. “You rub them
often.”
Everyone thinks he’s mad, no one will believe him.“………….before my talent for
swordplay came to light and I was sent to learn it in the capital, I trained
extensively in dance.” Izumi grimaces. “My mother really did desperately want a
girl, and I was talented in that, too.”
Shu’s eyes light up. “Ah, excellent, I knew you had beautiful legs! Milady,
show him--”
The little doll is suddenly on the table, and little ball joints turn and dip,
launching into a perfect emulation of a ladies’ court dance. “I’ve always
adored dancers. I, myself, did some training in that sphere during Academy.
You’ll dance for me.”
“I will not.” And because he doesn’t want Shu to set anything else on fire—“Not
right now, at any rate. You’ve worn me out, let me rest before my beast of a
Captain hauls me off again.”
“Did I hear my name?” comes an overly-sweet voice from the entrance of the
tent. Arashi parts the tent flap, looking weary, splatters of mud and blood
crossing his uniform, leading a tired-looking Mika. “Finish up whatever you’re
doing, both of you. We’re advancing, and I’ll need you both. The Inglings have
more berserkers, and Mika’s tired.”
“So much for rest,” Izumi says, but even as he lowers his feet from his lap
with a sigh, he looks eager. “Pass me my boots, Shu, thank you for fixing
them.”
Mika, for his part, seems uninterested in letting go of the sleeve of Arashi’s
uniform, dangling there as he struggles to keep his eyes open. “Sorry, Master,”
he mumbles. “I was tryin’ not to disturb you, but…”
Shu waves a hand. “You did as well as can be expected, I suppose. Don’t expect
me to coddle you--there’s food and drink, of course, and I assume your servants
will care for you. It’s very inconvenient that you’re forcing us to go outside
when the ground is so wet, you know.”
He straightens his robes, head held high, shoulders squared as he prepares for
battle. “How many Berserkers did your archers bring down?”
“Four,” Arashi says, and lifts Mika off his feet with as much effort as he’d
use lifting a baby sparrow, setting him gently on his coverlets. “He thought
there were more, but they were flash-attacking us, hitting his blind side.”
Izumi laces his boots back up, watching Mika fuss and grumble, and then out of
nowhere, lurch up to wrap both arms around Arashi’s neck, possessively latching
himself there. “I don’t want you t’ leave,” he breathes, his eyes too bright,
glittering strange shades of blue and gold until the colors almost seem to mix
and meld together. “Nn, I don’t like this, stay with me.”
“I know, darling, I don’t want to go.” Arashi’s hands are tight on his own
belt, knuckles white with the effort it takes to not turn and throw his arms
around Mika, holding him tight. “Who do you want me to send in? You can’t be
alone right now, and I’ve got to lead the charge, they’re my men.”
“Don’t care,” Mika murmurs, his nails bending from the pressure of biting
nearly through Arashi’s uniform until the dark polish on them starts to chip.
“Figure it out.”
Izumi wouldn’t have said a damned thing—this is Arashi’s problem, he firmly
resolved to not interfere unless asked after last night, all he can really do
is swear he’ll beseech the prince-soon-king about certain laws—except then
strange little purple sparks of flame that suddenly flicker to life on the
unused parchment paper, and he hastily snatches his finished letter away from
that, if nothing else. “I’m going anyway, aren’t I?” he says. “Just give the
order and I’ll handle it in your stead, with Shu’s expertise.”
Arashi’s face wavers. The indecision is clear--Izumi is untrained, he’s young,
he isn’t blooded or proven, he isn’t even properly titled, and these are his
men, he’s responsible for their lives...
But what good will he do anyone if their wizard burns himself emotionally out?
It’s happened before, and left Mika unable to help anyone for a week, nearly
comatose. Wizards are delicate, and no one knows it better than Arashi. His
eyes flick up, catching Izumi’s. “Any man you lose, you better make sure he
wouldn’t have been alive under me,” he says finally, and unbuckles his belt,
passing over his sword. “Carry that, they’ll know I gave you my command. And
try not to throw your life away to make a point.”
“I’ll keep him safe,” Shu says, as if offended this is even a discussion.
“Mika, eat something, it’s an order. Come, Izumi, I’ll show you the Inglings.”
Izumi nods firmly, and unbuckles his own belt, passing his own sword over in
turn. “Not that you need it, with those inhuman arms of yours,” he dryly
returns, buckling Arashi’s sword into place instead. “How about I don’t lose
any men and you treat me to a proper bath later.”
“I’ll eat, Master,” Mika says, seemingly satisfied by this turn of events,
though his grip doesn’t loosen in the slightest. “Arashi is my meal.”
“I’m leaving before I become a witness to a crime,” Shu mutters, taking Izumi
by the elbow and leading him out of the tent.
“The Captain has more self-control than is human,” Izumi says, shaking his
head, but he couldn’t care less, honestly, when his heart is already racing.
Trying not to come off as eager around someone like Shu who has professed his
distaste for killing is difficult. “Remember what I said. If I’m around, you
don’t have to kill anything.”
“Yes, that’s all well and good,” Shu says tersely, hardly acknowledging the
stablehand that brings his gelding, Midnight. He swings up easily, perched in
his saddle like a statue of onyx, proud and strong with a lady’s doll tucked
under his arm. “Do you know how to command an army waiting for instructions?”
“I’ve led enough hunting parties,” Izumi says too-cheerfully to belie how his
thudding excitement is quickly turning to anxiety, taking Vale’s reins when
they’re handed off to him, and pulling himself into the saddle. That’s a new
and unpleasant feeling to associate with having a sword at his hip. “And the
Captain and I have talked enough strategy since I’ve been here. I’ll figure it
out.”
“Better you than me,” Shu mutters, heading for the front lines. “I hate talking
to people. Orders, Acting Captain?”
Liar, you like talking to me. Izumi exhales a slow breath to focus, then steels
his expression, eyes glowing. The sooner he can hone his blade like all of his
boasting, the sooner he can return to Leo. “Stay close to me and identify any
berserkers as quickly as possible, for your part. I’m not chasing them myself
today.” He pauses. “Also, tell me if I’m being a complete idiot at any given
point. I trust you.”
“And the rest of you!” he calls, spurring Vale forward, unbothered by the
surprised mumurs of the soldiers—his soldiers, right now. For the sake of his
prince, nofailure is an option. “Lay your trust in me today, and I’ll see that
you’re all alive tomorrow!”
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
Arashi fully intends to throw a celebratory party after the first engagement.
It’s what he’s famous for, after all, along with the utter destruction of any
Ingling troop with the poor luck to stumble upon his army. However, the first
engagement is hardly over when the horns ring out again--then again--then
again, until weeks have passed, and his army is battered and exhausted, taking
heavy casualties from Berserkers and weaponized snogs alike.
Finally, the waves dry up, but something feels wrong. Arashi calls on Shu to
speak long distances, and within a day, his prescient worst fears are
confirmed--the Inglings have started to try the Northern routes for the first
time in a generation.
In a desperate move that most people would call insane, Arashi leaves the main
infantry of his army to guard the Southern route, then swings the rest up North
through enemy territory, galloping at breakneck speed through unfriendly
terrain, all the way calling back that they’d be the stuff of songs and stories
should they survive the morning.
The battle is hard, bitter, and finally, over. The Inglings fight as if
possessed, and by the time the horns sound a victory, not a single Ingling
survives. Arashi’s men, exhausted and battered, can’t make the long trek home
without risking certain death at a single other engagement, but fortunately,
Izumi’s estate is close by.
And what would a celebration be without a party?
Music rises riotously through the country courtyard, with food vendors bringing
out plate after plate, musicians plucking out jaunty tunes from the stage,
jesters juggling, mothers and fathers attempting to shove their young daughters
towards Arashi’s men. Northern country estates, no matter how well-appointed
and regal, rarely play host to a hundred eligible city bachelors, and everyone
is clearly taking advantage of the opportunity.
Arashi, for his part, enjoys watching Izumi transform from the disaffected-yet-
arrogant young knight to a...well, a Mama’s boy, from the way he reverts to a
cheerful, but sensitive man rather than the newly-battle-proven warrior Arashi
has seen recently. More amusing, however, is watching Izumi’s face change upon
catching sight of a lovely young man sidling up to said mother, kissing her
hand, then attempting to tug her onto his lap. “There’s no way the lady of the
house could be someone so young and charming,” he murmurs, sleepy eyes
glittering with sudden enjoyment. “Milady, let your humble servant here be your
slave, while we’re in town. Here, I’ll start by serving as your pillow, you can
sit on me...or I’ll rest my head on your pretty thighs, heh.”
Izumi isn’t yet drunk.
He wishes he were. It would make it much easier to dismiss a number of
happenings in favor of curling up around the fire in the arms of a woman (or
his Captain, as it may be)—or, since he’s home, and on his absolute best
behavior, politely smiling and not flipping skirts.
This, however, he cannot ignore.
“Oi.” Izumi’s voice is already sharp, hand on the hilt of his sword as he steps
close, his eyes narrowed as he glares the man down. How unfortunate that the
man is to his taste, long-legged and beautiful, all dark hair and pale skin,
but none of that matters when he’s a rogue trying to touch his mother. “You.
Are you trying to insult the North by daring to lay your hands upon the Lady of
this house? Release her immediately.”
Sir Ritsu, ostensibly of the West, gives Izumi a sleepy smile, and kisses his
mother’s hand again. “Ahh, apologies, Milady, your fine strong son is here to
put pause to our forbidden love. Doubtless he has found me another way to
entertain myself, after my men bled for the North this day...”
“Izumi, take your hand off your sword immediately,” his mother commands,
eyebrows raised, obviously demanding compliance. “You shouldn’t even be wearing
that in the Revelring, I’m going to box your valet’s ears.”
Izumi looks stricken, and his first protest strangles in his throat. “Mama—you
can’t trust any of these men to preserve your honor!” he insists, his fingers
tightening against the hilt of his sword before he begrudgingly releases it,
but not without exhaling a thoroughly frustrated sound about it. “Stop touching
her immediately, I’ll entertain you with a duel if you keep this up.”
“Okay,” Ritsu says with a shrug. “Maaaaao,” he calls into the crowd. “I need my
sword, some country boy is trying to duel me!”
“I’m not ‘some country boy’, how dare you. I’m—“
It barely takes a second before a rather haggard-looking young man appears, his
red hair tousled and pinned back from his face. Izumi doesn’t remember him.
“Absolutely not!” Mao insists. “Not tonight, Ritsu! My deepest apologies,
Milady, Milord, for his behavior, whatever it is. Ahhh, can you not do this
tonight? I’m already so busy…”
“If he touches my mother again, I’ll skin him alive,” Izumi flatly says, and
Mao heaves a long, aggravated sigh.
“Is that what you were doing? Ritsu, honestly…”
Ritsu flops down onto a cushion, then grabs Izumi by the wrist, tugging at him.
“Come keep me company instead of your pretty mother, then. Maao, help me kidnap
him, he’s pretty and I killed a lot of Inglings...”
Mao wipes a hand down his face, thoroughly exasperated. “No. I’m not helping
you kidnap anyone, that’s abnormal. I—“ He hesitates as if he hears something,
and something like stricken panic flickering across his face, and he already
starts backtracking. “Behave yourself!” he hurriedly says, bowing once to
Izumi’s mother. “Sorry again about him, Milady! I’ll be back to check on you,
Ritsu, behave yourself!” And then he’s gone, flitting off to who knows where.
Izumi’s mouth opens and closes, and he feels his face flush before he can help
himself. “I—h—Mama, please, let me deal with this idiot, step away.”
“I couldn’t care less, silly boy,” she says with a sigh, and slaps him
affectionately upside the head. “Be polite to your guests, and especially the
ones who brought you home safe to me. I can take care of myself, honestly. As
if I’m some soft Southern lady...” She shakes her head as she walks away,
curtseying to the officers, thanking them for their service.
Ritsu yawns hugely, kicking out his legs and patting his lap. “Your reputation
is such a lie, heh. Everyone says you’ll lie with anyone, but you haven’t even
looked at me, and I’m the prettiest one here.”
‘The ones who brought you home safe to me’—you make it sound like I’m a maiden
they had to rescue and bring home, not a knight that slaughtered dozens and led
an army! Izumi scowls after his mother before he looks back at Ritsu, heaves a
sigh, and drops into his lap. “Pour me a glass of wine.”
 Ritsu grabs a bottle, face lighting up, and shakes it. “Want to drink it out
of my mouth? Or should I pour it into yours? Ahh, you’re pretty, even if you’re
mean.”
“I’ll drink it out of yours. How have I not seen you in camp before?” Izumi
demands, begrudgingly softening underneath the praise. “I would have noticed
someone like you. You and your friend, neither of you were riding with us.”
Ritsu blinks slowly, letting his long lashes flutter down. “I’m always around
when the Captain needs me,” he equivocates blithely. “I was there the last few
days, up here. I saw you running like hell to get to that Berserker yesterday.
Never seen anyone do that besides the Captain, heh.”
“That’s because we’re both fucking insane.” Izumi eyes him a moment longer,
firmly concludes he’s still never seen him before, but lets it go. He’s very
pretty, and those long, dark eyelashes are distracting. “So even if I haven’t
heard of you, you’ve heard of me, huh?”
“Mm, yep. In the Capital.” Ritsu’s eyes blink slowly again, and he pours a huge
gulp of wine into his mouth, then grabs Izumi by the shirt, pulling him close
for a kiss, letting the wine flow between their lips.
“In the—mmn.” Izumi’s eyes flutter and his mouth parts, a noisy gulp following
as he swallows that wine. A trickle of wine escapes down his chin, and his
tongue flicks out to lap it up. “All the way in the Capital? Are you a knight?”
Ritsu leans in to lick the last trickle of wine off of Izumi’s mouth, eyes
burning a warm crimson that looks almost inhuman in the fire’s reflection.
“Something like that,” he murmurs, mouth curling up at the edges. “Do I have to
keep giving you wine like this, or will you give me your mouth for fun
instead?”
“One more mouthful. Ahh, you have a nice tongue,” Izumi mutters, immediately
going against what he just said to lurch up and kiss Ritsu again, shivering in
spite of the heat of his mouth. It’s been too long since he’s grabbed at
another man that was especially clean and sweet-smelling, and he’s willing to
ignore a number of questionable things about Ritsu because of that. At least at
home in the North, he doesn’t have to worry about any sideways glances for
kissing another man.
Ritsu makes a pleased little noise in his throat, and pours another trickle of
wine over their joined mouths, laughing low as he sucks on Izumi’s tongue. His
hand immediately drops, trailing down then squeezing Izumi’s ass, kneading and
squeezing. “And you’ve got a nice ass,” he murmurs, and nibbles on Izumi’s
lower lip, unwilling to stop kissing even for a moment.
“Ah, so you two have met,” Arashi says from nearby, obviously amused.
Izumi extends a middle finger without breaking away from Ritsu’s mouth, and if
anything, just kisses him more deeply, arching in his lap when Ritsu’s hands
grip and knead at him. When he finally does break away, it’s with a ragged
inhale and a sticky strand of saliva on his tongue, which snaps when he licks
at his lips. “If you need something from me right now,” Izumi lowly rasps,
“rethink, Captain.”
“Northerners are so immoral, aren’t they, Tsukasa? Are you planning on lifting
your skirts for that stranger in the middle of a party, where your mother is?
For shame!” Arashi laughs.
Ritsu looks over, then beckons to Arashi, and the young man standing stiffly
next to him. “Kasa, Rashi, c’mere, we’ll all have fu~un...”
“Be good, Ritsu, these two haven’t even met yet,” Arashi chastises.
Izumi scowls, not entirely interested in this interruption until Ritsu’s vague
invitation. He tilts his head to get a better look at the young man standing
next to Arashi. He’s probably not any older than himself, perhaps younger, and
the wary expression on his cute, heart-shaped face makes him look younger
still, no matter how he’s neatly, formally dressed even at a party like this.
“Introductions would be good, actually,” Izumi mutters, patting a hand against
Ritsu’s chest. “Thank god you know this one, Captain, I was starting to think I
was being seduced by a demon.”
Tsukasa’s cheeks flush at the scene, and he folds his arms across his chest
after pushing a strand of deep red hair out of his face. “Sir Ritsu has that
sort of personality,” he says forthrightly. “He should have more propriety than
this. Ah, Sir Tsukasa of the Suou family, at your service.”
Rich noble boy. Izumi can tell with a glance, and his gaze flicks up to Arashi
again. “I’m seriously not getting up for work right now, you can’t make me.” 
Arashi laughs, grabbing the bottle of wine from Ritsu and taking a swig, then
passing it over to Tsukasa. “Work? Now? For shame, this is a party! I just
wanted to introduce you to these fine young men. Ritsu, thanks for beating me
to the punch.”
“Oh. This is the man you’ve been talking about?” Ritsu asks, feigning
ignorance. He squeezes Izumi’s ass, kneading it slowly. “Zumi, you should find
us a quiet place where we can all...talk. It’s your estate, isn’t it?”
“If you want me to move, you’re going to need to stop grabbing my ass like
that,” Izumi hisses, his mouth already going to Ritsu’s neck.
Tsukasa hesitates, then sighs, grabbing the bottle of wine and taking a drink
far longer than Arashi. “When you said we were going to meet and talk,” he
helplessly points out, “this is not what I envisioned, Captain.”
“He likes to act shy,” Arashi says, amused, “but he knows there are only two
ways to swear an Old Blood Pact, and I don’t want to do the way that hurts.”
“I do,” Ritsu says with a lazy, predatory grin, fingers digging in deep.
“Ritsu, sweetheart, my way means sex.”
“Oh, that’s better.”
“An old what now?” Something that weird makes Izumi lurch back. He’s not drunk
yet, for better or for worse, and he eyes Arashi for a moment before forcing
himself to climb to his feet. “My chambers,” he says, flipping the keys around
on his finger. “Then there won’t be any interruptions.”
Tsukasa, at least, looks relieved. Izumi doesn’t ask questions until he grabs
another bottle of wine on his way back into the estate itself, leads the way to
his chambers, and unlocks the door, letting the four of them inside. “What,” he
asks, uncorking the bottle as he drops himself onto the foot of his bed, which
is as thankfully large and clean and well-cushioned as he remembers it, “are
you planning, you ugly harlot.”
“Planning to rip your tongue out if you call me ugly again, how incredibly
rude!” Arashi says, eyebrows raised. “Second of all...remember when you told me
about your goal, about the Kingsguard? These are the men I told you I was going
to recruit. Are these chambers safe to talk, completely, without being
overheard?”
“They’re safe from magic,” Ritsu pipes up, flopping back on Izumi’s bed. “I
dunno about human listeners, I can never tell. But there’s no spells.”
Izumi spares a sideways glance to Ritsu, suspicious all over again now that
there’s talk of magic being thrown about, and he takes a drink directly from
the wine bottle. “No one in this estate is going to lurk anywhere near my room,
especially during a party like this,” he says. “I’m interested now, go on.” He
squints at Tsukasa. “You look familiar, at least.”
“My family is very old,” Tsukasa offers up. “And directly involved with a
number of affairs in the capital, you see. The direct court influences of the
Suou family are—“
Izumi’s eyes glaze. “You need to be drunk,” he says, grabbing Tsukasa by the
arm and shoving the bottle of wine into his hold. “I’m begging you.”
“Kasa should always be drunk,” Ritsu agrees.
“Right. The point is,” Arashi says carefully, “these two are, ah, talented
enough that I think they could help form the corps of your Kingsguard. They’re
also highborn enough that they won’t raise eyebrows should you appoint them.
And most importantly, they’re both, ah--”
“We hate the king,” Ritsu says flatly, reaching over to grab the other bottle,
uncorking it with very sharp teeth. “So if it’s ever a war between his
loyalists and the prince, we’re on your side.”
Tsukasa still seems hesitant about drinking, so Izumi takes all of this new
information in, pulls the wine bottle back, and takes a long drink before
grabbing Tsukasa’s face and kissing the wine into his damned mouth. It’s a long
moment before Tsukasa rips himself away, red-faced and breathing hard, and
Izumi leans back, licking his lips. “You,” he says, crooking a finger in
Arashi’s direction, “are a good man. Come here.”
This time, Tsukasa actually pulls the wine bottle from him, and takes a long
drink as he drops onto the foot of the bed next to Izumi. “His Highness is
amazing, isn’t he?” he sighs, the flush to his cheeks remaining. “I mean—I’ll
never forgive him for crushing me in every archery tournament in the capital,
but—“
“That’s where I’ve seen you! Gods, this is a small world. You’re a very bad—“
“I am not, before you say another word. I…I have performance anxiety.”
Arashi strides forward, tugging off his shirt and shoving Izumi back against
the bed. “We’re all going to have ourselves a little bonding ceremony,” he
breathes, firelight flickering in his eyes. “Ritsu is doing the honors. Before
you agree, bear in mind that while darling Tsukasa and I just prefer the good
boy over the bad dad, Ritsu has some other...interests at heart.”
“Up to you,” Ritsu assures Izumi. “I’ll always hate the king no matter what,
and I wouldn’t betray Arashi ever. But I can help you a lot if you do some
stuff for me, too.”
Izumi is fairly certain this has been initiated in such a way that he has no
choice but to agree, and he resents that, to a degree…but that degree is a very
small one, because at least Arashi has the decency to offer up men that are
extremely attractive. “You can entertain me with stories about why you hate him
so later,” he breathes, sinking back into the mattress, reaching out a hand for
Ritsu even though his eyes rake unabashedly down Arashi’s bare chest. “And I’ll
only ask you one question now. Will anything you ask of me directly threaten
the prince’s life?”
“No,” Ritsu says immediately, and his other hand moves, curling around Arashi’s
thigh. “I swore like this to Rashi already. I just...mmm...want some
items...cared about.”
“You’ll like them,” Arashi assures Izumi, and climbs onto the bed to straddle
him, looking down. “Untie my laces. They’re about magicians having more
freedom, things like that. Ritsu’s invested.”
“No fair, Rashi, share with me.”
“I’ve got him down here first, you take his mouth. Tsukasa darling, why don’t
you come closer and give big sister a kiss?”
Tsukasa opens his mouth to clearly argue a point, then snaps it shut again, and
sets the wine bottle down. He reaches up, pulling free the first few buttons of
his collar before he does as he’s told, catching Arashi’s mouth with his own,
surprisingly far hungrier, more aggressive than Izumi would have thought from a
prissy, clearly city-born noble.
“…Give me your mouth again first, I like the way you kiss,” Izumi manages, heat
rising to his own face from the sudden sweep of arousal that rakes through him.
He grabs a handful of Ritsu’s shirt with one hand, reaches for the laces of
Arashi’s breeches with the other, and shudders, feeling how hard Arashi already
is when his fingertips just barely skim lower. “I’m all about magicians having
more freedom, sounds good.”
“Then you’ll like everything I want,” Ritsu assures him, and leans down to kiss
Izumi deeply, as if he’s trying to climb inside, as if he’s determined to suck
out Izumi’s soul. His tongue is hot, searching, and his teeth are sharp,
demanding. Crimson flames flicker into being, tiny pinpricks that start to
revolve around the four of them, first randomly and then in a pattern,
something esoteric and obviously powerful.
Arashi hums happily around Tsukasa’s tongue, hips rubbing up against Izumi’s
hand, his own hands traveling down to splay over Tsukasa’s chest. “You’re so
handsome,” he murmurs, eyes dark with lust as he grinds down on Izumi’s cock,
feeling the friction between them. “My brave strong young man, I can’t wait to
watch you and Izumi. Here, darling, you want me to take care of you?”
Izumi dazedly tastes blood, and it’s the only thing that eventually makes him
pull back from Ritsu’s mouth, panting, pupils dilated. Magic is unimportant and
easily ignored if he’s going to keep being kissed like this—and thoroughly
pampered, so it seems. “Pay attention to me,” he demands of Arashi, even as
he’s grabbing for the front of Tsukasa’s breeches as well, and—“Oh.” He
swallows audibly. So much for performance anxiety. That’s much larger than he
expected. “Oh. You’re going to give that to me right now,” he insists, lurching
half-way up to better get at Tsukasa’s lacings, eyes glittering greedily.
Tsukasa falters, obviously unused to someone actively grabbing for him, and he
hesitates visibly as he reaches to still Izumi’s hands. “W—S-Sir Izumi,
you’re—“
“Just Izumi, I’m not a damned knight, and don’t you dare act shy about this
now. Arashiii,” Izumi implores instead, licking at his lips. “We could always
see if both will fit. Ah, give me more wine first, though.”
Arashi laughs, tipping the wine into Izumi’s mouth, then letting his clever
fingers make quick work of Izumi’s own laces. “Let’s strip him!” he crows, and
Ritsu agrees only too readily, boots and shirts and trousers suddenly flying to
all corners of Izumi’s room. “Ahhh, you’re so beautiful naked, Tsukasa, don’t
you just want to touch him? I do, I’m going to, where’s your oil?”
Ritsu kicks off his own breeches, then shoves a finger in Izumi’s mouth,
followed by a second. His nails are sharp, tracing over Izumi’s tongue, shoving
in and out. “Who needs oil? I’m just going to get him nice and wet like this,
maybe with my tongue...”
“No way, your tongue is way too long, it’s weird! Ah, found it!”
A couple very slick fingers prod Izumi’s hole, sliding in unrepentantly fast,
and a tiny red flame flares, then seems to absorb into their skin, a flash of
warmth shooting through the place they’re touching. Arashi ignores it as if he
can’t see it, and twists his fingers. “You like having something inside you,
don’t you, darling? Ritsu, let him talk.”
Ritsu obeys, sliding out his fingers and moving to kiss Izumi’s neck instead,
letting wet fingers seize a nipple.
Izumi arches with a gasp, his tongue tripping over itself even when it’s
finally freed, sticking out to wet his lower lip as he tries to pick out words.
Easier said than done when Arashi’s fingers are long and familiar and accurate,
making him groan and spread his trembling legs wider. “I..ahh, fuck—“
He almost had a coherent sentence in mind, but Tsukasa’s fingers unrepentantly
grab at his hair, freeing it from its tie, and the swift jerk of his head to
the side brings his flushed cheek to drag against the side of Tsukasa’s cock.
Unconfined from his breeches, it looks even larger than it had felt, and
Izumi’s eyes flutter hard, one grasping hand pawing for it as he desperately
squirms down against Arashi’s hand. “Please,” he breathes. “N…nothing…nothing
feels better than that, I…”
“You have the prettiest mouth I’ve ever seen on a man,” Tsukasa mutters, awed,
and he swallows as Izumi twists his head further to the side, pink tongue
eagerly darting out to lick at the tip of his cock and taste the precome
beading there.
“That’s because Izumi isn’t really a man,” Arashi breathes, eyes alight as he
slides in another finger, knowing just where to touch, just how to stroke,
knowing he’s driving Izumi crazy. That’s one nice thing about having Izumi
nearby recently; he hasn’t had to go after partners nearly as much, not when
Izumi is more than willing, he’s desperate. That much is obvious from watching
the loving way he laves Tsukasa’s thick cock, though Arashi can’t blame him.
Tsukasa is a gorgeous young man, and more than well proportioned. Still, he
knows the way to drive Izumi insane, and he curls his fingers just so,
murmuring, “Just treat him like a pretty girl we picked up to have fun with for
the night. Tsukasa, your parents buy you girls sometimes, right? That’s all
this is, just a lovely lady treating you like an ice lolly.”
Ritsu runs a finger over Izumi’s hole, sliding in alongside Arashi’s. “She’s
got a nice pussy,” he says, mouth fastened to Izumi’s neck, then his ear,
nipping and sucking. “But you can tell it’s not that tight. We can definitely
both fit in there. I bet she’d like it.”
Izumi’s eyes roll back into his head, a rasping, desperate noise leaving his
throat before Tsukasa’s thumb is on his lower lip, pushing into his mouth,
prying it further apart before the head of his cock sinks inside, dragging over
his tongue. A hiccuping breath makes his chest heave, and Izumi squirms,
twisting on the bed to get at a better angle to both suck Tsukasa’s cock, have
those fingers deep inside of him, and let Ritsu’s mouth mark up his neck in a
way that makes him shiver and thrash.
“Even…even the girls they’ve paid for aren’t like this.”
The fingers would be enough—Arashi’s good at that, so are Ritsu’s, and Izumi
knows he’s easy, besides—but it’s the words and the way he’s touched and pulled
around so casually that makes his cock throb and twitch. Tsukasa’s fingers
press harder against his scalp, pulling his head down, making his jaw ache and
his throat desperately work to swallow, and Izumi nearly chokes as he comes
with a groan muffled in his throat. He grabs helplessly at Tsukasa’s wrist,
squeezing until he’s allowed to come up for air, gasping and flushed dark pink,
his lips swollen as Tsukasa’s cock rubs against them still. “S…sorry—don’t
stop,” he moans, twisting and trying to grab for Ritsu’s cock as well now.
“That’s so good, what the hell…”
Ritsu crawls forward, letting his hand slide out as he leans up, kissing on
Tsukasa’s neck. The head of his cock bumps against Tsukasa’s, rubbing against
Izumi’s lips, red fires igniting, then absorbing all around them. “Share that
pretty hole with me, Kasa,” Ritsu breathes, already dripping, already so hard
he hurts. “If it’s slutty enough, there’s gonna be room for both of us...look
how messy she is already, your parents would never hire you such a low class
harlot, would they?”
“You’re all too much for my maiden heart,” Arashi says with a sigh, and the
next thing Izumi feels is the blunt head of Arashi’s cock, shoving sudden,
hard, and thick inside of him. “Aahhh...so sweet, the way you’re sucking me in,
darling. Ritsu, Tsukasa, be nice, I don’t think she’s had anything to eat all
day.”
Tsukasa shudders, the dark violet of his eyes hazy, a little unfocused when he
grabs at Izumi’s chin as his head lolls uselessly, stifling the broken,
whimpering keen that leaves Izumi’s throat when he pries his mouth open wider.
“Maybe not, but…I’ve never had one so…” He swallows hard, watching the way
Izumi’s tongue flicks out almost reflexively, openly eager. “Desperate.”
Izumi sags into the bed, his thighs trembling, squeezing tight around Arashi’s
waist. His body clenches down, slick and hot and welcoming, and he nearly comes
again, just from how good Arashi’s cock feels inside of him right now, making
everything achy-tense-shivery-sort of euphoric but teetering on the edge of too
much and ah, fuck, he’s going to die like this. “Nnn. Let me…let me t-talk,
just a second…” he manages, twisting his head to the side, clinging to the last
bit of sense he has, even as he drags a hand down over his own stomach, fingers
toying with the slick mess there. “Kasa—if you don’t get hard again fast, don’t
you dare come in my mouth right now.”
Tsukasa freezes, uncertain, and his fingers pause where they curl into Ritsu’s
hair, pulling him in for a kiss—because that tongue really is unfair, he’s
figured that out. “I—“
“Help,” Izumi insistently demands of Arashi, grabbing at him as he says it,
deliberately squirming down onto his cock even though it makes his body tighten
up and shiver. “I meant it, before. I—please.”
Arashi’s eyes flicker in the dancing flames, and he nods slowly. He doesn’t
stop rocking forward into Izumi’s ass, he can’t, not when it’s squeezing him so
sweetly it feels like coming home, but he does usher Ritsu and Tsukasa off of
Izumi’s chest, then haul Izumi up to sit on his lap, facing him. “Come up
behind him, Tsukasa,” he urges, taking the opportunity to kiss Izumi deeply,
enjoying his mouth, letting Izumi drape forward to lean on his shoulder. “He
wants it, so come give it to him. Don’t be shy, it isn’t the first time you’ve
touched my pretty cock.”
Ritsu sits on the bed, watching hungrily, wrapping a hand around himself. “If
you leave me out, I’ll wait my turn,” he warns, eyes slit like a cat’s. “But I
won’t be nice when you’re all used up and sloppy.”
Tsukasa’s mouth goes dry, even as he crawls forward as if he’s connected by a
string, or maybe one of those flames that drags him in. “There’s…there’s no
way,” he whispers breathlessly, even though the idea makes his cock ache, and
he squeezes his fingers around the base of it tightly to keep himself under
control. His other hand drags down Izumi’s arched back, the tight curve of his
ass, down to where he and Arashi are already connected. “He’s already so full…”
Izumi’s nails dig into Arashi’s back, a weak, slow kneading as he drapes
against Arashi’s chest. He hisses through his teeth at Tsukasa’s touch, his own
cock twitching as it rubs against Arashi’s stomach. “It’s fine—ahh…god, your
hands are soft, that’s nice…”
Encouraging Tsukasa even a little is a choice Izumi almost regrets. Almost,
even though just the press of the tip of his cock makes Izumi whimper,
trembling and overeager. When Tsukasa presses close from behind, slipping in a
finger to help open him further for his much larger cock, Izumi gulps, and the
sudden, added stretch of the thick, dripping head as it pushes inside makes him
quake and moan and curse into Arashi’s neck, nails raking red lines down the
hard muscle of his back.
Tsukasa has the right idea in grabbing for the oil again, tipping it out over
his cock before he shoves up with a breathless grunt, and Izumi chokes on his
own breath, his thighs struggling to spread wider as if that, somehow, will
make it easier. It doesn’t, of course, and his head lolls, his muscles weak and
boneless. Mindlessly, he reaches out, not thinking at all about the
consequences of wanting Ritsu anywhere near him right now, too, because he’s
not thinking, unable to, really, when he’s so full he can’t see straight, his
cock aching, every nerve in his body twitching and singing.
Arashi lets out a whole string of muffled curses, all bitten into Izumi’s hair
as he gathers him close, gasping for breath when the stretch is so tight, when
Izumi feels like he can’t possibly take this much, when Arashi can feel him
dry-sobbing and groaning on the two of them, stretched impossibly wide, stuffed
impossibly full. “Look how much she likes it,” he manages to grunt out,
grabbing Izumi by the hair, tilting his head forcibly back. “L-look at this
bitch--cheeks all flushed, tears running down her pretty face--look at this,
she can’t even close her mouth, she’s so hungry to drink from everyone’s cock--
you’re going to take it all in your belly, right, sweetheart? Then we’re all
going to come in here, and you’re going to swallow it all and ask for more,
right?”
“Not me,” Ritsu breathes, wrapping a hand around himself, stroking from base to
tip, eyes locked on Izumi’s arched back, down to where he’s stretched so far it
looks for sure like he’s going to tear. “I want to come on her face. She’d look
so pretty like that, right?”
“Mm...maybe...” Arashi’s vision nearly whites out when Izumi is so tight, but
he can’t help but move, hips jerking urgently forward and up. “I don’t think
this slut will be satisfied until she takes a hundred men, will she?”
Words stick in Tsukasa’s throat, but that doesn’t stop him from closing his
hands tightly around Izumi’s lean waist, squeezing tightly as he uses that grip
to hold him in place, making it so much easier to thrust up no matter how
impossibly tight it is. It barely feels like he can move, but it’s almost
better just having to rock up inside, grinding in slowly. “I think she likes us
too much, Captain,” he rasps, dragging his fingers up to pinch and pull at a
very hard nipple. “If we’re smart, we should just—just buy her outright, and
keep her for ourselves.”
The noise Izumi makes is a low, whining mewl more than anything else. He feels
himself drooling, feels his cock slowly, agonizingly dripping, like he just
can’t stop coming when both Arashi and Tsukasa keep pulling him and shoving up
into him. It’s too tight, far beyond too much, and his head flops into the pull
of Arashi’s hand before Tsukasa’s fingers shove their way into his mouth again.
They taste bitter—probably dragged through the mess on his own stomach, but it
doesn’t matter—and Izumi sucks on them hungrily, his eyes sliding dazedly over
to Ritsu, watching him and how his hand pulls at his cock.
“See,” Ritsu says softly, dangerously, “she really can’t get enough. Look--she
wants me, see? Even when you two are wrecking her so bad she won’t be able to
sit down for a week, she’s trying to get me to fuck her, too.”
“Wait your turn,” Arashi groans, slamming in deep, hoping Tsukasa has his own
rhythm, because he’s definitely got one now, rocking up deep into Izumi’s body
as red lights settle into their skin. “Tsukasa...ahhh, you’re young, you
don’t...understand yet,” he breathes, keeping the fantasy going, petting
Izumi’s hair even as he thrusts in hard, fast, and brutal. “You don’t want to
keep a bitch like this. You just use them until they’re all loose and
satisfied--then get another one, right?”
“Mm, I’m gonna take her when you’re done, though,” Ritsu reminds him,
glowering. “Hurry up and come, you’re both awful. I’m gonna come over there and
start doing Kasa soon if you don’t let me in.”
Izumi feels his vision start to blur at the edges. Between every powerful
thrust of Arashi’s cock into him is Tsukasa’s, thick and hard and pressing in
deep, and there’s no escape from either of them, not when he’s trapped between
the two of them, clinging to Arashi’s back, Tsukasa’s breath hot against his
ear, every shove and grind making him whimper.
Tsukasa comes first, and feeling that makes Izumi sob, his nails clawing little
holes into Arashi’s back. It’s slick, and that helps when Tsukasa slams up
hard, but it stings, making him twist and whimper and groan, helplessly
trembling when he tries not to move on his own too much, trusting Arashi to
keep him steady and pull him where he will. Tsukasa curses into his hair, and
his fingers aren’t gentle as they hold him down onto his cock, every little
ragged breath that escapes against Izumi’s skin hot and overstimulated. Too
much, Izumi weakly thinks, and he paws a hand up weakly into Arashi’s hair,
pulling, tugging. Please, please, please.
“There’s a good girl, that’s it,” Arashi murmurs, and strong arms lift Izumi
off of Tsukasa, yanking him almost unbearably close for Arashi’s last few
powerful thrusts, until the slick mess inside of Izumi grows slicker, fuller,
and Arashi groans into his shoulder. “Ahhh...your mouth isn’t the only place
you’re thirsty, is it, sweetheart? What a good girl, you made me come so
hard...”
Long-nailed fingers trail down Izumi’s back, Ritsu’s eyes glowing in the dark
of the room. “You two had your fun. Gimme, I want to be mean to him.”
Tsukasa collapses back into the mattress, panting, overstimulated, and Izumi
whines where he slumps against Arashi’s chest, trembling, twitching, feeling
every slick drop Arashi’s cock pumps into him. His muscles squeeze and clench
down on their own accord, and Izumi swears his vision nearly whites out, a
broken groan torn from his throat. “Be mean to me,” he wholeheartedly agrees,
even if his voice is breathy and hiccuping with every strained inhale. He lists
to the side, grabbing at Ritsu, his own gaze too-bright. “You…you must be
starving, you should b-bite me…”
Where that comes from in the recesses of his mind, who the hell knows. Izumi
dazedly assumes it’s because of those sharp teeth he’d felt on his tongue, but
he doesn’t really care.
“Ritsu, no!” Arashi’s voice is suddenly panicked, but Ritsu hisses, a not
entirely human sound, and Izumi is snatched off of Arashi by strong hands,
yanked to the other side of the bed.
“He invited me!” Ritsu snarls, eyes flashing red. The next second, fangs (far
longer than they’d looked) flash, sinking deep into Izumi’s neck, and Ritsu’s
whole body shudders as if he hasn’t had a drop of water for a year then
suddenly discovered a waterfall.
Arashi no longer looks delightfully sated, but fraught with concern, eyes
locked on them. “Remember your promise, Ritsu, please...”
Tsukasa and Arashi both look so concerned, but Izumi just groans, his head
rolling back as he lifts a trembling hand to drag it through Ritsu’s hair. The
bite hurts, sort of, but only in the vaguest of senses when he can feel the
blood running from his neck, being lapped up and sucked down. That’s a fair bit
more blood than he remembers losing from any battle recently, but, ah…that’s
probably fine…
“That’s too long, isn’t it?” Tsukasa worriedly presses. “We should—“
Izumi flutters a hand, annoyed. “Don’t interrupt, he waited for the two of
you,” he mumbles, dragging his nails slowly against Ritsu’s scalp. “’s not nice
to make me focus while I’m feeling good, I didn’t want you to be that kinda
mean…”
Slowly, after another agonizing second, Ritsu withdraws, licking his lips, eyes
far too bright to be human, shuddering from his feet to the top of his head.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, and truly looks contrite, kissing the spot where he’d
bitten, then laying Izumi down on the bed, pressing kisses to his face, his
neck, his chest. “Didn’t expect you to taste like that. Nnnn, you’re really
special, you’re gonna be my fa~vorite...spread your legs, I’m going to lick you
clean before I fill you up again.”
Arashi visibly relaxes, then moves closer, just so he can stroke Izumi’s hair
while Ritsu plays with him.
Izumi flops back, feeling a delightful mix of lightheaded and sated. It’s not
the alcohol—he hasn’t had enough for that, he’s sure—but more the result of how
it feels to apparently have someone drink his blood, and his own body
reflexively work to fix that loss. It’s an odd rush, but not an unpleasant one,
especially when his limbs start gradually responding normally again. “Good, you
have the best tongue,” he murmurs, his legs splaying even when his thighs
briefly tremble in protest. “That felt good, you can do it whenever you want.”
“That’s a dangerous thing to tell him,” Arashi murmurs.
“Correct,” Ritsu hums happily, then delves between Izumi’s thighs, tongue
dragging up, lapping gently at the mess, teasing the edge of Izumi’s hole.
“Ahh, they stretched you out so much...I thought you’d be more loose, but it’s
already winking at me...mm, you taste good everywhere, you’re my new meal.”
“Don’t care,” Izumi gasps, his legs tense and shaky as his toes curl into the
bed. Ritsu’s tongue is another level of overstimulation that his brain can’t
quite process, and it makes him whine, his cock giving a weak twitch against
his stomach. “I..ahh…l-like the way it feels, who cares if it’s d…nhhh, fuck.”
He reaches out, clawing into the first thing he can get his nails into, which
happens to be Tsukasa’s thigh. “S-sorry, his tongue is…”
“You’re as sharp as a cat,” Tsukasa mutters, even as he pries Izumi’s nails out
of his skin and holds his wrist down to the bed instead. His eyes flick down to
Ritsu, still not entirely convinced he won’t bite again, especially when
Izumi’s thighs are splayed wide and creamy in front of him.
The tongue that delves into Izumi’s hole again is longer than any human’s, and
Ritsu hums happily, questing and stroking, lapping up all the evidence of
Arashi and Tsukasa’s fun. “Kasa...you should play with his chest more,” he
suggests, taking another swipe, leaving Izumi’s hole shiny and wet. “Naughty
girls love that kind of thing. Rashi, you should give her a drink.”
“I know what you’re implying,” Arashi says with a laugh, “but it’s going to
have to be wine for a few minutes, I’m afraid. Not all of us are inhuman in our
stamina.” Nevertheless, he tips the bottle of wine into Izumi’s mouth, a little
trickle at a time.
“’s the only…nggh—“ Izumi gulps noisily to swallow the wine in his mouth, and
he sucks in a ragged breath through his nose. “Bad thing about you,” he
finishes on a groan, his head rolling to the side to avoid the bottle of wine
for a moment. “Y’should figure it out.” His breath hitches, his hips jerking up
when a combination of Ritsu’s tongue and Tsukasa’s suddenly pinching fingers
leaves him achingly hard again. “Nnn, Ritsuu, what the fuck, your tongue is…”
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Ritsu asks smugly. “Maybe if you’re good, I’ll put it on
your cock later. If you’re bad, I’ll let you drink from that bottle at this
end.”
He sits back, palming himself again, the low light making his skin almost glow
with how pale it is, paper white and almost translucent. “Beg for my cock. I’ll
be nice and give it to you if your voice is sweet enough.”
Not wholly human, Izumi’s mind dimly reminds him, the suspicion he’d had at the
first second of meeting Ritsu coming back again. Magic, blood drinking, strange
and too lovely—that should make him wary, and make him stop this, at some
point.
Well, maybe if he were known for good sense.
“Fuck me, please,” he pants out, the twitching, overstimulation of before
starting to fade, leaving him empty and hungry and annoyed that there isn’t
something else in him. Izumi hears a low, needy whine escape his throat. “You
d-don’t have to be nice, I don’t care what you do to me, just so long as it’s
in me. Please, you can even bite me again, I like it…”
Teeth flash, Arashi tries to move, but at the last second, Ritsu turns to
nibble on Izumi’s ear, lying fully atop him, and it’s almost a gentle thing
when he sheathes his cock with a little sigh of contentment, happy to simply be
inside for a moment. “Don’t worry,” he breathes, low enough that only Izumi
could hear. “I won’t tell them you’re like me. I could drink from you until my
belly popped and you’d still be fine, wouldn’t you?”
The noise that leaves Izumi’s throat is breathless and pleased, his eyes
rolling back as he squirms down onto Ritsu’s cock with a slow arch of his back.
Of course Ritsu can tell, of course. He should be more concerned about that,
probably, but right now, Izumi couldn’t care less. Ritsu’s cock is in him,
that’s the important thing, and Izumi’s thighs tremble when they draw up to
squeeze against Ritsu’s waist. “Mmhm,” he dazedly confirms, dragging his
fingers down Ritsu’s spine as he clenches down with a long sigh. “That’s
why…you can do it again…”
“You really shouldn’t be encouraging him like that,” Tsukasa says, a mix
exasperated and worried, especially when Ritsu is whispering things in Izumi’s
ear that he can’t hear.
“Be nice, Kasa,” Ritsu murmurs languidly, giving Izumi a filthy grind, working
his cock in deep, stroking all the parts of him that his fingers couldn’t
earlier, pressing a sucking wet kiss to Izumi’s neck. “The bitch was just
begging for my tongue again. Heh, you know we wouldn’t call you names if it
didn’t make your cock so hard, right? It’s like you just love this kind of
thing, how dirty...”
Arashi’s hand slides down Tsukasa’s back, exploratory, questing, seeing if
he’ll pull away when the fingers wander lower. It’s worth a shot, after all. “I
think darling Izumi just likes being the center of attention no matter what.
He’d love to be on display, don’t you think? We should just take all his
clothes, these strong Northern boys don’t seem to need them.”
Tsukasa politely smacks Arashi’s hand away without even looking at it. “I’ve
never seen anyone that…liked this so much,” he admits, breath hitching a
little.
“E…everyone else is missing out,” Izumi says with a ragged laugh, his head
rolling back when Ritsu’s mouth goes to his neck again, and his fingers drag
down his lean back, grabbing at the curve of his ass to pull him in. The angle
makes him purr, his eyes fluttering when Ritsu’s cock slides in so deeply that
it makes something twinge and cramp inside of him. “I…I don’t let just anyone
see me, though, I’m picky…”
“Says the bitch who’s on her third cock of the night,” Ritsu teases, tugging on
the skin of Izumi’s earlobe to soften the words. He takes his time, rocking
slowly, moving with Izumi, loathe to ever pull out all the way, just pulling
out a few bare centimeters each time so Izumi is never empty. “Mm, you’re
right, I’m not gonna show you off, I’m gonna keep you here...I’ll just keep it
warm inside you whenever I’m bored, that sounds nice, right? You can be my
special pet.”
Arashi withdraws his hand, immediately moving it to his own lap to start
stroking, the look on Izumi’s face making him hungry for a second round after
all when he usually isn’t up to one. “Between all three of us,” he muses, “I
wonder how long he could survive just on drinking what we pour in his mouth?”
I wish I had never told you that I liked that, Izumi darkly thinks, but even he
knows he’s lying to himself about that particular sentiment when he swallows at
those words, his tongue flicking out to wet his lower lip as his legs tighten
against Ritsu’s waist, refusing to let him get too far. Not that Ritsu needs
much direction about that—he feels perfect inside, taking his time, with his
cock filling and rubbing every single right place. It feels far better than it
should after being filled and stuffed to his limit before, but the lingering
soreness just makes him more sensitive, arching and shivering at the slightest
change. “I’ll…I’ll be your pet,” he readily agrees, working up the strength to
pull his hands from Ritsu before Tsukasa does it for him, dragging his
trembling fingers to his cock.
Izumi’s hands aren’t as soft as they look like they should be, and for some
reason, that makes Tsukasa’s cock harder. He bites at his lip, guiding Izumi’s
fingers to squeeze and stroke around him. “You sound like you’re a starving
little cat when you say that.”
Izumi’s cock gives an unfairly hard twitch at that, and he throws his other arm
over his face as he shakes his head. “I don’t wanna come again yet, it hurts,”
he bemoans, though it doesn’t sound like a very convincing complaint. “I h-hate
being easy sometimes, fuck all of you!”
“Other way around,” Ritsu assures him, then turns to grab Arashi’s half-hard
cock, stroking it for him. “Hey, pretty kitty, looks like someone here’s ready
to give you some milk...ahhh, we shouldn’t even put it in her mouth, we should
just all put it in a bowl and let her lick it up like a real kitty.”
He ruts in deep again, eyes lidding, a slow smile lingering on his lips. “You’d
look so lovely, crawling around on all fours, rubbing against us whenever you
need to be fed...ahhh, don’t let me think about such nice things, I’m gonna buy
a collar.”
“Be nice, Ritsu darling,” Arashi breathes, moving forward enough to rub the
head against Izumi’s cheek, leaving a wet streak behind. “She doesn’t belong to
us, she’s just on loan. She only really belongs to her master, isn’t that
right? What if he could see you like this, your precious prince? I bet he
wouldn’t even be surprised...you think he’d be aroused?”
The noise Izumi makes is strangled and not entirely coherent. He clenches down
so hard around Ritsu’s cock that the tension spreads to his legs, leaving him
shuddering and cramping with his toes curling into the bed, chest heaving with
every spasm that makes his cock spill a little more onto his stomach.
“So it is like that,” Tsukasa murmurs, keeping Izumi’s hand tight around his
cock, forcing it to keep stroking even when Izumi is so obviously unfocused and
lost. “No wonder you’re so desperate for him to be king, then. You want to sit
at the foot of his throne and lick him clean all day.”
Good bye it was nice knowing you world I am dying. Izumi’s mouth parts, but so
help him if he can respond to that besides a huffy, unsteady breath.
“Heh, she just keeps coming,” Ritsu murmurs appreciatively, rocking into Izumi
at his favorite angle, where he can sort of feel the textured spot inside of
Izumi with his cock, but can absolutely feel the way Izumi shudders and whines
when he grazes it. “No way this is fit for a prince. It’s a nice hole, but it
definitely needs to be filled a bunch more times before that.”
“See, that’s the kind of exhibitionist he is,” Arashi breathes, letting his
cock drag over Izumi’s lips, not quite letting him suck it yet. “He doesn’t
want to be our pet to show off. He wants to be tied to that throne, on his
knees forever. Tell us about it, and I’ll let you have your milk, kitty.”
Izumi hears himself sob, and feels every predictable spasm that his body
insists upon when Ritsu just keeps pressing just right, obviously refusing to
relent. It’s hard work to keep going like this, and he feels his head loll for
not the first time, his chest heaving with every breath, shivering when sweat
trickles down his hairline. “C-can’t,” he manages to pant out. “P-please, I—let
me…let me show you instead, I’ll be good, I’ll…”
His voice breaks when Tsukasa’s fingers are on his nipples again, pulling,
pinching, and Izumi groans, the sound low and desperate. His vision blurs, wet
and unfocused as his head turns to the side, tongue dragging over the head of
Arashi’s cock. “L…Leo, I…”
To their credit, no one laughs. Ritsu just thrusts in harder, taking his own
pleasure now, groaning into Izumi’s shoulder, hips snapping in swift and
powerful. “That’s good, that’s so good, be good for him, yeah? Be a good girl
for your prince--”
“King,” Arashi corrects, eyes glittering in the flickering magic lights,
swirling around them. “What a good knight, on your back to serve your
king...show him how much you worship him, open your mouth, that’s--that’s so
good--”
Izumi doesn’t think. He can’t anymore, not when the taste of Arashi in his
mouth is so strong, not when Ritsu is fucking him like that, not when Tsukasa’s
cock rubs against his other cheek, smearing up along his skin and into his
hair.
His lips close hungrily around Arashi’s cock as he twists to the side,
struggling to get him into his mouth all the way, choking when Tsukasa grabs up
a handful of his hair to use that as a handle to urge his head down. His eyes
tear up, and he frantically grabs for Tsukasa’s hand, misses, has it shoved
back to his cock instead, and Izumi surrenders with a low, muffled groan,
squeezing, sloppily stroking the thick cock in his grasp when his tongue can
barely focus on the one that drips over it.
When Ritsu comes, the lights snap into a pattern, then explode, fizzling down
like fireworks, settling into their skin, making every part it touches glow
red, though it can’t be felt by human skin. He lets his hands dig deep into
Izumi’s hips, holding him in place as he spills deep within him, coming to
rest, panting hard.
“Finish it up,” Arashi whispers. “Just like that, worship your King--”
That does it, for some reason--Izumi’s arousal bleeds into Arashi, making him
so much more ready, so much more eager than he would have been, spilling a
little trickle of liquid into Izumi’s mouth, letting it slide over his tongue.
“That’s a good boy, Tsukasa, finish it off, you need help?”
Tsukasa watches as Izumi swallows, his Adam’s apple visibly bobbing, and it’s
only after that that he pulls Izumi’s mouth off, thumbing his mouth open to
stuff his own cock inside. “N-no,” he breathes, his own face flushed as he
twists his fingers up into Izumi’s hair to pull him down, savoring the muffled
little gagging noise he makes. “He knows what to do, look, he’s so—“
It barely takes another thrust before he comes, courtesy of Izumi’s eager, if
not sloppy tongue, and Tsukasa somehow pulls enough sense about him to pull his
cock back to rest on Izumi’s tongue instead of just spilling straight down his
throat. Watching Izumi struggle with that makes his cock twitch again, another
few droplets dripping over his tongue when he comes.
A couple of hard swallows get the job done, and Izumi gasps when he’s finally
allowed to pull off, collapsing down into the bed, trembling and struggling to
even keep his eyes open.
Ritsu pulls out, nuzzling into Izumi’s chest, laying there with a satisfied
smile on his face. “I know that was for the ritual purposes and everything,” he
says, humming a little. “But we could do that any time.”
“No, you’re naughty, you tried to kill Izumi.”
“Naahhhh, I was just taking a nibble. He’s fine, isn’t he?”
“I’m fine,” Izumi repeats back dazedly, even if he’s not even bothering to open
his eyes now. “It felt good. Nn…stay, cuddle me, I’m cold…”
Tsukasa visibly hesitates, but Izumi’s fingers are still surprisingly tight
around his wrist the second he tries to shift away. “Stay, rich boy.”
“I was going to get you some water—“
“I don’t care what your excuse is. Cuddle me.”
“He had plenty to drink,” Arashi says happily, wrapping his arms around Izumi’s
waist between Izumi and Ritsu, yanking him close. “Come on, on the other side.”
Tsukasa resigns himself—not that it takes that much twisting of his arm,
because the idea of leaving doesn’t appeal. He settles down on Izumi’s other
side, squeezing draping his arms around the pile of them and burying his face
down into Izumi’s hair. “…You smell like a woman still.”
“Thank the gods. Yeah, you can stay,” Izumi sighs, squirming once to get
comfortable before his body decides to cheerfully give out. “Mmn. Good night.”
***** Chapter 7 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
Avoiding his mother in her own domain is almost impossible.
It’s worse, of course, because the last time Izumi spent any time at home was
when he was 15, when his mother had taken ill for a week and everyone expected
the worst. Arriving years later with something like a reputation on the
battlefield doesn’t mean his mother cares about that; she still treats him like
her sweet, obedient, beloved son and heir, which means a mix of relentless
affection…and expecting him to run every errand, complete every task, like a
good Northern heir should.
Izumi is too tired for that today.
The only thing that makes him get out of bed at all is his horse, and after
dodging his mother, her attendants, and everyone else that could want his
attention, Izumi locks himself into one of the estate tutor’s offices. It’s
empty and quiet and the light is dim, and he sighs in relief, shutting his eyes
as he slumps against the door.
There’s an enormous, old, overstuffed sofa in the corner, and a pile of
blankets already upon it. Basically, it’s made for him. Izumi strides over,
starts to flop down—but then the blankets move, a slow rise and fall from
breathing, and he freezes. “…Not today,” he mutters, already ready to scold
whatever servant is hiding away as he rips the blankets off, but the sight that
greets him isn’t anything of the sort. “What the…Ritsu?”
Heavy lidded eyes open very, very slowly. Then Ritsu’s pale hand shoots out,
grabbing Izumi’s wrist and pulling Izumi down on top of him. “I’ll forgive you
for disturbing me if you become my blanket. Otherwise I’ll eat you.”
Izumi bites back a squawk, not wanting anyone to hear them outside—old estates,
thin walls, that sort of thing. He scowls, letting Ritsu drag him down, even as
he winces as he does, adjusting so that his sore, aching body isn’t pulled in
any way that’s particularly painful. “What are you doing in here?” he mutters,
bracing himself on a hand, refusing to be pulled completely flat. “You don’t
have anyone to hide from. I know you were offered a real bed.”
“I was walking down the hallway to deliver a message, and I got sleepy...this
room was open, and this looked reeeeeally comfy.” Ritsu tightens his arms
around Izumi, letting out a sleepy, happy little noise. “And I captured a
pretty meal, ya~ay...”
“I’m not your meal! Ow, ow, don’t squeeze me too hard, I’m so sore,” Izumi
bemoans, giving into the pull when his arms give out and he slumps down on top
of Ritsu with a cringe. “This is my hiding place. Don’t bite me right now, I
skipped breakfast to avoid my mother.” Both remembering last night and hearing
Ritsu talk about feeding fromhim again makes Izumi instinctively nervous, now
that he’s sober and…not otherwise preoccupied. “You need to explain a few
things if you ever want to bite me again, actually.”
“I’m half demon,” Ritsu says around a yawn, with absolutely no hesitation. “A
hundred years old. Heh, I’m famous, you ever heard of the Shadowlands?”
“…Vaguely.” Izumi’s eyes narrow. “You barely look a day over twenty. I’ve never
heard of demons that feed on blood like that.”
“Half demon,” Ritsu reminds him, blinking sleepily. “Most demons in the
Shadowlands just eat humans whole. But because of my human side it just ends up
with me drinking blood. But I look totally normal and cute, so that’s a good
thing, I guess.”
Izumi’s lips purse. “Fine. You’re a half-demon from the Shadowlands.” He’s
honestly heard stranger things lately, and he’s already let Ritsu drink his
blood, apparently, so he can’t be too critical. “That’s not enough of an
explanation, though. If you’re a half-demon from the Shadowlands, why are you
posing as a knight and trying to be a part of my eventual Kingsguard?”
“Long story. Short version, my family is outlaws because the king’s father was
a piece of shit, I want to be able to use my real name without being hunted.
And I want to find my brother alive.” Ritsu shrugs. “Standard stuff, really.
The king hunted my family to almost extinction, so I’m not a fan.”
Izumi’s head tilts, and he folds his arms against Ritsu’s chest, setting his
chin atop them as he peers at him. “Arashi mentioned you have a pro-magician
agenda last night, or something like it. Are you a magician? Or is your
brother? I know you used magic, but it didn’t seem…the same, as the other
magicians I’ve met.”
“I went to the Academy. Ahh...it was different then,” Ritsu says wistfully.
“I’ve heard such stupid stuff from Mao about how it is these days, like they
never let them talk to outsiders, never let them have sex, make them kill with
their brains, don’t let them choose what they study or where they
live...they’re like slaves, it didn’t use to be like that. It’s one thing if
slaves are captured in times of war, but we were all born citizens, you know?
It’s not right. And it’s too easy for a noble to force a wizard to work for
him, then use them to kill or win a war, it’s really gross.”
“Mm. I’ve talked to wizards, they’ve told me a lot about that. I had no idea,”
Izumi admits quietly, still annoyed with himself over simply not paying
attention to it when it was plainly underneath his nose the whole time. He’s
the one that’s in the capital, after all. “As soon as the prince takes the
throne, I plan to petition him about all of that and have it changed.”
Ritsu nods in satisfaction, letting his eyes shut again. “It’d be nice not to
live like a fucking criminal for wanting to get a blowjob, ha. And if...if my
brother’s still alive...it would be good if I could find him. But I don’t think
he’ll ever come out of hiding if the King is still on the throne. Or if he
does...it won’t be good.”
Izumi pauses, parses through that again, and goes a little cold. Ah. Hm.
Wizards are apparently wizards even if they’re half-blooded demons, he
supposes. So that’s a law he’s now broken and could be skinned alive for, cool,
good to know. “…What’s your brother’s name?” he manages, forcing himself to
focus on something else.
“Rei.” Ritsu’s eyes glow deep red. “I can hear your pulse, you know. Don’t
worry. We’ve all sworn a blood pact to each other, and no one alive knows I’m a
wizard except the people in the room last night.”
Fuck. That name again. “This is getting creepy,” Izumi mutters, pushing himself
up slowly. “I was just talking about your brother-apparent a few weeks ago.”
“Ahhh, yeah, I forgot Shu is in Rashi’s company. It was him, right? I’m not
reading your mind, he’s just the only person who knows him. He doesn’t know who
I am, except as one of Rashi’s soldiers.” Ritsu smirks. “He’s in love with my
brother. I hope he’s alive, or that sucks.”
“…He’s…fucked up, isn’t he?” There’s no real, polite way that describes it, so
Izumi doesn’t try. “Gods,” he mutters, raking his hair back from his face. “I’m
almost relieved to hear you’re a wizard. Now I know they aren’t just insane by
default.”
Ritsu snorts. “There’s a reason that even a lowborn noble like Rashi can get
two wizards. Those two are...yeah, they don’t want them at the Academy or in
the Capital for a reason.”
“They’re…something.” Izumi hesitates, slowly slinking back down. “So are there
any side effects to you drinking from me that I need to be worried about?
Arashi and the rich kid seemed to think it was a pretty bad idea, judging by
how they were acting.”
“Oh.” Ritsu waves a hand, unconcerned. “Sometimes I lose control and take too
much, that’s all. But you didn’t die. Heh, but I’ve never chomped on a drake’s
son before, you’re tasty. Like an icicle, but minty.”
“A—wait, what?”
Izumi looms over him, eyes wide. There’s nothing he can do to put a stop to the
wary eagerness on his face, his heart beating too-fast, mouth dry. “If you know
anything about what my father is, tell me.”
“Oh. Did you not know? They’re kinda rapey, that’s probably why...” Ritsu
stretches out, toes wriggling. “Pet me while I talk, be nice to me. Ahhh, Ice
Drakes live up in the Glacierlands. They’re like huge lizards, you know, but
with icicles instead of scales. They can take human forms, but only when they
thaw, so most don’t bother...mm, what do you wanna know?”
Izumi has to lean back, flopping on the other end of the couch, stunned into
silence for a moment, and into movement at the same time. He doesn’t say
anything before he just pulls Ritsu’s feet into his lap, digging his thumbs
into the arch of one of them. “Anything. Everything. I…I had no idea.”
“Oops,” Ritsu says, sounding not entirely concerned. “Did you think you were
human? You’re not, you’re way better. Hmm...what else...they don’t really die.
I’ve never heard of one dying except by burning, and even that’s only if
they’re in human form, so you’ve gotta trick them into turning first. In their
element, they just...you can stab ‘em, behead ‘em, turn ‘em to stone, they just
shrug it off and heal, so that’s cool.”
“I didn’t know what I was. I…used to think I was human, maybe a wizard, how was
I supposed to know?” Izumi swallows. “It’s creepy, that you don’t even bat an
eye about this shit.” It all makes too much sense, actually, and that makes
Izumi feel some horrendous mix of relieved and horrified. “You can’t tell
anyone.”
“Course not, they’d kill you,” Ritsu snorts. “So, do you heal anything? I’ve
only known one other guy who was descended from a drake, and that was like...he
was like a one-sixteenth, and even he had some weird shit going on. Anything
that happened, if he survived, he’d never have a scar. So cool.”
“…I’ve never not been able to heal anything, so good luck with them killing me,
I guess,” Izumi mutters. His fingers stroke down the arch of one of Ritsu’s
feet, then back up, distractedly working on each toe individually. “I’ve
survived gut wounds, I’ve fixed my own broken bones, being bitten by venomous
things…I can also extend it to other people or animals, though, but it’s more
difficult. With myself, I don’t even have to think about it. I have to think
more about not doing it, which is annoying on days like this, when I have to
obviously still look and act like I got trampled by a horse.”
Ritsu opens his mouth, then closes it, thinking. “The Captain doesn’t know?”
“No.” Izumi winces. “I…don’t know how much he’s told you, but the way I came
into his care…it wasn’t exactly the most favorable to begin with. I didn’t want
to give him another reason to dislike me, or, you know, turn me back to the
capital and see me killed.”
“Mm, yeah.” Ritsu flexes his foot, eyes lidding at the nice stroking. “You’re
good at that, I’d keep you alive just for the foot rubs.” He wiggles, then
adds, “You can tell him, if you want. Rashi’d never betray you. He knows I’m
half-demon. Hmm, but then...I mean, you’ve never been beheaded or thrown off a
cliff, right? Maybe don’t tell him, because if he thinks you’re invulnerable,
he’ll feel like it’s his duty to send you alone into the most dangerous areas.
Ahh, but it’s definitely going to come out eventually, right? If you’re serving
together on the front lines? Then maybe do tell him...hmm...”
“I already volunteer for it. He just thinks I’m crazy right now.” Izumi
switches feet, pulling Ritsu’s leg further up into his lap. “I’ve been debating
about it,” he admits. “I can’t decide if he’d prefer knowing or…prefer not
knowing, because if he knew how far it extended beyond me…heh. I feel like he’d
be pissed at me when I didn’t fix up injured soldiers that I could’ve probably
saved from dying, or when I didn’t heal the broken sword arms of men that now
don’t have a career. But I just don’t care. I can’t afford to, I don’t have
time to. I heal my horse and my prince, that’s about it.”
Ritsu nods slowly. “Yeah. Don’t tell him. That means don’t get ‘killed’ where
he can see you put yourself back together. Because if he knows you can fix
people up and then you don’t, he’ll be really mad. And if he knows he could let
you fix people, he’d feel like he has to--he’s really loyal to his men, you
know?”
“Yeah. I know.” Izumi digs his thumbs into the arch of Ritsu’s foot with a
scowl. “Why do you think I’m suffering right now still? I don’t want him to
think I’m magical in any way, just good with a sword. Ugh, I’ve had about
enough of this soldier mess, to be honest. I want to go home. To the capital, I
mean, not stay here.”
“Now you’re making me homesick,” Ritsu complains. “Heh, I don’t get homesick
for places, I get homesick for people.” He cups his hands, then blows on them,
and a little red sparrow suddenly flutters out of them, darting out the window,
seeking out Mao to lead him here. “You’re great but I wanna be taken care of
for serious. You can say stuff in front of him when he gets here, he’s a spy.
Our spy.”
Izumi leans forward to stare suspiciously out of the window, watching the bird
flutter off. “You have a spy? Of course you do.” He pauses, curiosity
immediately getting the better of him, courtesy of Ritsu’s turn of phrase. “Is
he your lover?”
Ritsu beams. “He’d say no. I say yes. He’ll come around.”
“If you kiss him and dote on him, he’s your lover. That’s the rule.” Izumi pats
the bottom of Ritsu’s feet, pushing them out of his lap. “I’m not really
interested in spending time around a spy right now, sorry, so I’ll see you
later.”
Mao beats him to it. His head of red hair comes up over the windowsill before
he drags himself nimbly up into it, looking as put out as he had the night
prior at the party, especially at the sight of Izumi. “You—Ritsu. You haven’t
been causing more trouble, have you?”
“You?” Izumi echoes incredulously. “This is the spy?”
Mao’s lips part before he heaves a long sigh, staring down at Ritsu. “What have
you been talking about now?”
“Nothing. Maao, come cuddle me, I’m sleepy. You’re ignoring me for that stupid
Makowhatever guy, I’m gonna bite you.”
“I’m not ignoring you for him, I’m supposed to be his Keeper right now,” Mao
exasperatedly replies, but he swings his legs into the room all the same. “You
will not bite me. You—“ He pauses, looks at Ritsu again, and then frowns. His
gaze flickers to Izumi again, wary about his presence, but Ritsu rarely keeps
the same company twice unless they’ve been…more or less approved. “You’ve fed
recently.”
“Yep. A whole bunch. I took a lot of little sips from some country girls, no
one died,” Ritsu half-lies, reaching out for Mao’s hand. “I’m nice and full.
Ahhh, this is Izumi, he’s from up here like your stupid friend.”
“Please stop calling Makoto stupid,” Mao patiently says, letting Ritsu take his
hand and pull him over, placating him with a ruffle of his hair. “Ritsu, you
know that you aren’t supposed to be—“
“Sorry, did you say Makoto?” There have already been too many strange name-
drops today (one is too many) for Izumi to ignore this one. He leans over from
his end of the couch. “A Makoto from up here, in the North?”
“Ah…yes,” Mao hedges. “He’s a wizard that’s in my charge.”
Izumi’s heart thuds, a strange, excited reaction he hadn’t quite expected. “Is
he actually here? Now?”
“Well—“
“You should take me to him. I think I know him, it’s not like his name is
common.” Though it’s not the name he called Makoto by, not when they were
young, because nobles and low-borns don’t let their children mingle in the
North, if they can help it. Obscuring the name of his one friend (a low-born)
became a necessity. “Come now, you can’t refuse a Lord in his estate.”
Mao’s expression is skeptical. “I think I’ll stay here, thank you, Milord—“
“Fine. Then I’ll find him myself.”
Izumi hops to his feet, and Mao scowls, pulling away from Ritsu to trail after
him. “You will do no such thing. Wizards—they’re a delicate sort, if you
disturb him—“
“Wizards aren’t supposed to have friends, you know,” Ritsu says softly, tugging
on Izumi’s sleeve. “You could make things a lot worse for him. Why not just
send a letter through Mao? Eh, but Maao, Izumi is already friends with a
wizard, he knows how to talk to them...”
“I was friends to him before he was a wizard, that’s different,” Izumi
pointedly insists, brushing off Ritsu’s touch as he folds his arms over his
chest. “He’s right, though. I’m often the bodyguard of the wizard Shu. If I can
handle him, I think I can handle speaking to an old friend of mine.”
Mao frowns, not entirely convinced. “I’m trying to make his travels as
uneventful as possible,” he finally says. “He’s been on edge since coming near
here, anyway. I don’t want to stir things up even more.”
“I’ll be a balm to his nerves. He’ll recognize me.”
“That’s…probably not true.” Mao shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I have to refuse.”
Izumi smiles, and heads towards the door. “Sure. Ahh, I’m sure no one else will
tell the lord of this house where our special guests are being housed at all…”
“Maao,” Ritsu whines, grabbing Mao’s hand. He holds it tightly, telling himself
the whole time that even if he let go, Mao would keep holding on. “If you don’t
tell him, he’ll go after him, isn’t it better if you lead him there? Then it
won’t be a scary surprise. He’s the lord of the house, you know, you should
show him some deference...”
Mao wavers. Ritsu has a point, but it’s still worrisome, thinking about someone
from Makoto’s past disturbing him. “…Fine,” he finally settles upon. “But only
with supervision.”
“Excellent, good man, I knew you’d come around,” Izumi hums, his smile too-
sweet as he pats Mao’s shoulder. “Lead the way, then. Ritsu, you can come along
if you like, you look awfully cute, hanging on his arm like that.”
“Don’t touch me,” Mao mutters, abruptly brushing Izumi’s touch off, irritated
on principle. “Ritsu, you probably should be up and about. You’ve slept long
enough. He’s being kept just outside of the encampment—a temporary stopover,
before we head to the capital.”
Ritsu’s face falls. “Ehhh, you’re leaving for the capital already? But we just
got here, I wanted to spend a lot of time with you. What about my reward, we
just beat a lot of Inglings, I’m tired and I deserve to get spoiled.”
“I know, I know,” Mao sighs, guiding Ritsu towards the door and opening it for
him, not Izumi. “You seem like you’re being spoiled plenty, though, being
allowed to sleep this much. I’m sure we’ll cross paths again soon, you know how
I’m rarely in the same city for more than half a week.”
“Sounds bad,” Izumi remarks, as if the conversation includes him. “Ahh, hold
on, I need to go and grab my sword.”
“Milord,” Mao shortly adds, “you’re not bringing your sword around my charge.”
“Do you think I’m going to kill him or something? That’s funny.”
“I don’t really care what you think, you’re not bringing it.”
Izumi’s eyes roll hard. “Fine. Mm, do you like men like this, Ritsu? Stubborn
and argumentative?”
“Yeah, Maao is really good,” Ritsu says unapologetically. He clings to Mao’s
hand, lacing his fingers through Mao’s, beaming happily. “I heard that no one
cares if you like to bugger the boys up here as long as you’re not trifling
with nobles, is that true? The North is so weird...and cold, Maao, let me put
my hands in your shirt, it’s fine in the North--”
“Don’t you dare, your hands are freezing! Wear gloves or something, Ritchan, I
keep telling you…”
“In the North, no one cares if you’re kissing girls or boys so long as nobles
are kissing nobles and low-borns are kissing low-borns,” Izumi says as if he’s
reciting it. He lets Mao lead the way out of the estate—fortunately, nowhere
that his mother is currently passing through—and sighs at the chill coming
through the air, promising snow in the night, maybe. “And in the capital, boys
kiss girls, noble or low-born or everything in between, but only girls. Ahh,
it’s all so stupid, honestly…”
Mao snorts to himself and grabs Ritsu’s hand more tightly, not exactly liking
the idea of him being associated with someone that has such a
notorious…personality. Seeing it in person isn’t making him warm up to it,
either. “I’ll go in to speak to him first,” he curtly says, the crisp, cold
ground barely trodden in the direction he takes them. “And if he doesn’t want
to see you, you’ll drop it. All right, Milord?”
“Yes, yes, whatever you say.”
“…Stay out here, too,” Mao sighs, patting Ritsu’s head as he releases his hand.
“Just for a minute.”
Seemingly unaffected by the weather, the spacious tent that his wizard charge
is afforded is much warmer, and he lets himself in with a brief rustle of the
tent’s flap. “Good morning, Excellency,” he greets, then grimaces, the
reflexive address sitting ill on his tongue. It’s foolish to be familiar with
his charges, but… “Makoto. How are you faring? There’s a guest for you, if you
want to see him.”
Makoto looks up from his book, startled. He hadn’t exactly been enjoying the
text, but he was supposed to have it read and understood a fortnight ago, and
certainly hadn’t managed that. His hands run nervously over the text, not quite
hearing what Mao had said at first, then feeling it sink in. He blinks owlishly
behind his spectacles--too large for his face, but they’d been gifted to him by
a teacher who’d had much wider-set ears. “Ah, I was just--rereading, obviously
I’m finished, but...wait, a guest? What should I, should I wear something? Is
she pretty? Not that it matters...”
“He,” Mao wearily corrects. “You don’t even have to get dressed, as far as I’m
concerned, and if you don’t want to see him, I’ll throw him out. He fancies
himself the heir of the Northern house we’re mooching off of currently—Sena,
something another?” Feigning ignorance and disinterest is useful, when he
dislikes someone. “He said he knew you, but again, if he’s lying, I’ll send him
away.”
Makoto blinks, then slowly, painfully, his cheeks redden. Surely, Izumi is
here--it must be Izumi, there are no other male Sena around--for some official
reasons, surely he can’t remember the cook’s foolish son, surely he wouldn’t
come all the way out here just to say hello. He stands, grabbing his official
robes--if Izumi wants a wizard, he’ll get one, as poor an imitation as he is--
and dons them over his soft loose trousers and underclothes. “Um, yes, he
can...he can come in. Ahhh, what did he say? Did he remember me? Did he say
anything? What does he--ahh, just bring him in.”
Mao’s lips purse. He doesn’t like this, not in the slightest, especially from
the reaction Makoto is having. “He remembers you,” he carefully says instead of
talking about how excited Izumi had obviously been. “I’ll let him in, but…ahh,
never mind.”
Unhappy with this outcome, Mao still tries to keep his expression neutral when
he steps back outside. “You can speak to him. Touch him and I’ll know. If you
know how to speak to wizards, then you know—“
“Yes, yes, I don’t need a briefing from you.” Izumi briskly brushes past Mao,
excitement long having taken away the focus needed to not heal himself up
instantly, and so when he strides into Makoto’s tent, he’s all but glowing,
cheeks lightly flushed from the cold, eyes alight the second they fall upon
Makoto. “It is you!” He’d know that hair and those eyes anywhere, and that
face, honestly too pretty for a cook’s son. “Gods, you’re so tall now! Ahh, you
remember me, right, Yuukun~?”
“Ehh? No one’s called me that in so long...” Makoto pushes his glasses up,
blinking owlishly, a little sheepish. How does one look when one’s trying not
to look like he’s spent the last ten years thinking about the other...one?
However that would look, he doubts he’s pulling it off. He tries (oh, his
Masters would be embarrassed of how poorly he’s doing). Some of his lessons
reassert themselves--punishments where he’d been made to recite erotic poetry
while sitting in a tub of ice water for soiling his sheets in the night, being
caught sitting too close to another classmate and each of them having their
bare arses tanned in public, a dozen more he can think of--and he breathes
deeply, though his face still flushes. “It’s good to see you again, Lord Izumi.
You look...”
He looks, truly looks, and his breath catches in his throat. He fumbles for
words, and manages, “You look...well.”
Izumi beams, and promptly makes himself at home, pushing aside several of
Makoto’s books to drop down onto the table in front of him, crossing one long
leg over the other. “Right? I’ve been training in the capital for about seven
years now, but I’m working under Sir Arashi right now, for a number of reasons.
Unimportant. I had no idea I’d ever see you again, it must be fate that you and
I ended up heading back to the North at the same time.”
Makoto’s heart thuds too-hard against his ribcage, surely hard enough that
Izumi will hear it. Maybe he’s being foolish--there’s no way that this could be
a test, right? Memories of past tests he’s failed still haunt him, and Mao had
warned him that more would be coming...best to be on his guard, just in case.
“We’re only here for another day,” he says apologetically. “Bound for the
capitol, actually, now that I’ve finished my apprenticeship. I’ve got to travel
there to get my placement from the King.”
“Maybe if I begged the Captain, I could take a week to escort you there
myself…” Izumi wistfully thinks. “For old time’s sake, if nothing else. Ah,
these glasses really don’t suit you,” he teases, leaning forward to catch
Makoto’s glasses by the bridge and pluck them right off. “There we are. Your
eyes are still so green.” Huh. Guess he’s always had a preference for that, who
knew. 
“A-ah, I can’t really see without those, Iz--um, Lord Izumi.” Makoto laughs at
himself, embarrassed. “Please forgive me, I kept forgetting back then and now
I’m doing it even though we’re all grown up. Oh, or--it would be Sir Izumi,
wouldn’t it? Sorry, I forgot, you went to become a knight, didn’t you?” His
eyes shine. “You must have been having such adventures, I hope I’ll get to read
about them someday!”
“Just Izumi is fine. Then I can still call you Yuukun without anyone scolding
me, right?” It also stops him from having to explain why he isn’t explicitly a
knight yet, which is getting old, as time goes on. He hooks Makoto’s glasses
into the neck of his tunic, uncaring (not even noticing) that it pulls the
entire, flimsy article of clothing down to show more of his collarbones as he
leans closer, batting his eyelashes. “You should convince that stuffy Keeper of
yours to let me take you out riding before you have to take off for the capital
again. My horse, you’d like him, he’s as bad as that old pony I had that
wouldn’t stop inhaling every apple he saw.”
“Ah, I don’t really convince him of much of anything,” Makoto says, self-
deprecating and increasingly sure that this is absolutely a test. Why else
would the object of his long-standing affection be here, looking like a young
god, pulling down his shirt and begging for time to be alone together? Makoto’s
cock starts to twitch, only to meet with the painfully hard resistance of his
very special underwear, and he grimaces. If this is a test, he’s already
failing. “I don’t think we really have time. Ah...what was your pony’s name--
Gobble, right? Heh, he was so fat.”
“I’ll ask him myself, then. I made the acquaintance of a friend of his last
night, so he’ll probably be able to sway things one way or another. Ugh, I
swear Vale—that’s my horse—won’t be any better in a few years, especially when
we’re back in the captial all the time. The prince sneaks him food, it’s
infuriating.” Izumi hesitates, then gives into the urge to run his mouth,
because it’s Makoto, and what can it hurt at this point, anyway? “I’ve been the
bodyguard of a wizard for the past few months. He’s…it made me start thinking
of you again, quite a bit, especially after I learned all of the things wizards
have to go through, and deal with.”
I’ve been thinking of you.
 Makoto flushes, trying not to read too much into that. “It’s--it’s fine, it’s
good, I’ve learned so many things at the Academy, it makes sense that there’s a
lot of rules. I’ve gotten to learn magic, how amazing is that--and I thought
I’d always be useless, you know? You know I wasn’t very talented as a kid...”
Izumi’s lips purse. “What does that have to do with anything? You were a kid,
no one’s that great at anything.” He sighs, freeing Makoto’s glasses from his
shirt to hand them over. “I don’t like hearing about the things they put you
through. As soon as I can, I’m going to see that things are changed—for your
benefit, so you aren’t just someone’s tool.”
“Changed?” Makoto cleans the lens of his glasses, then puts them back on his
nose, blinking up at Izumi--then quickly looking away, because Izumi is far
more beautiful than his child’s mind had remembered, or puberty had been very
kind to him. “It’s really fine, don’t put yourself out on my account. I...I can
be useful like this. Maybe I’ll get lucky and they’ll send me to be a
researcher, or down south where they use wizards to bring in a lot of extra
crops in times of famine...that would be really helpful, you know?”
Izumi exhales an aggravated breath. “It’s not a matter of being useful to
anyone,” he patiently says. “You could be as useful as a bag of rotten potatoes
and I wouldn’t care. Listen, Yuukun—I know you’ve had to put up with a lot of
shit over the past few years, but…” Izumi reaches out compulsively, grabbing
for one of his hands. “I swear, no matter what happens, I’m going to do
something about it, okay?”
Makoto’s breath catches in his throat. His hand tightens microscopically, and
he starts to step forward, licking his lips--
Then yanks his hand back, cheeks flaming, turning away as his heart thuds hard
against his chest. “It’s fine,” he says hoarsely. “Just--you should go, Lord
Izumi. I’ve overstayed my welcome. Mao!”
Izumi opens his mouth to protest, but Mao is already stepping inside, letting
in the chill of winter the second he opens the tent’s flap. “You should go,” he
bluntly says. “His Excellency has clearly had enough.”
“It really pisses me off that you think you can order me around,” Izumi snaps
suddenly, climbing to his feet and striding over to Mao. “You don’t outrank me,
this isn’t your domain, and I couldn’t care less what you have to say about my
friend. You aren’t reading his mind.”
“You can call him your friend all you want, Milord,” Mao flatly replies. “But
he’s my charge, and if you’re bothering him, I’ll have you leave.”
“He’s not bothering me,” Makoto says hastily, hovering behind Mao. “I’m just,
I’m a little tired, I think I’m a bit of a bother to him, honestly, we should
be going, right? Ah, I’m sure Lord Izumi doesn’t need us taking up space in his
domain any longer...” Please don’t make me invoke my Rite of Free Passage, he
thinks desperately, knowing that if Izumi keeps saying and doing things that
make him want, he’ll have no choice.
“We don’t have to go until the evening, Excellency. You can relax for now.” Mao
folds his arms across his chest, staring Izumi down. “Well? Leave, then.”
Izumi has had enough of Mao, spy-apparent, and it takes every bit of effort not
to punch him in the face for merely existing. “Fine,” he grinds out instead,
disinterest in causing a scandal on his mother’s property, of all things,
winning out in the end. “Yuukun—let’s meet up again in the capital. I’m sure
it’ll happen.”
He storms out, and Mao heaves a long sigh, wiping a hand down his face. “I hate
guys with tempers like that,” he mutters, turning around to look Makoto up and
down, making sure he’s in one piece. “Did he touch you? Or say something? You
can tell me, I’m on your side.”
Makoto groans, leaning forward to slump with his face in his hands, though that
makes the weird lines of his underclothing cut into his soft flesh. “I’m really
stupid, I’m sorry. He really--I mean, he did grab my hand, but he just wanted
to take me away from everything, it’s not like he was going to do anything, I’m
the dumb one who can’t stop thinking about him.”
Mao frowns immediately, and gently takes Makoto by the shoulder, easing him
back to his chair. “It’s not your fault at all. He knows better.” He hesitates,
then adds, “I should be reporting him for that kind of behavior, but if you
don’t want me to, I won’t this time. I know he was your friend, but…he has a
reputation.”
“Eh? He does? What kind of reputation?” Too late, Makoto hears the interest in
his own voice, and fiddles guiltily with his fingers. “Sorry. If this was my
test, just fail and report me, I know I messed up really bad.” The thought of
Reeducation is frightening, but he does deserve it, after all.
“It’s not a test. Relax, relax,” Mao soothes, pulling up a proper seat instead
of knocking things aside and sitting on a table like an foul-mannered cat.
“He’s…well, he originally made a name for himself in the capital as an
undefeated duelist, but one with a horrendous temperament. He also, apparently,
never once was the one to issue a challenge for said duels; every single one of
them came to him. Can you guess why?”
“He’s...always had a bit of a sassy mouth?”
“No. Because he climbs in bed with their wives, has his way with them, and
their husbands are furious afterwards, so they challenge him.” Mao’s expression
is world-weary. “Though I’m sure his mouth doesn’t help. He never kills anyone
in his duels, either; instead of delivering a killing blow, he lops off the top
notch of their ear.”
Makoto’s mouth falls open, eyes gone as wide as saucers. “I-I-Izumi?” he
squeaks. “Really? That--that doesn’t sound like him at all!”
“That’s him. In spite of going around and marking perfectly honorable men as
’neutered’—“ Mao’s eyes roll. “—he still had several offers to swear to high-
ranking officials within the capital, and refused. He has the arrogance to wait
for His Highness the Crowned Prince to become king and elevate his rank
instead. That’s the sort of man he is, Makoto.”
Something cold twists in Makoto’s chest. Izumi, clearly, has changed. “I should
have expected that he’d be different, but...I don’t know. I guess I thought
deep down that he’d still be that cheeky, funny, sweet boy I knew when we were
young.” He drags his hands down his face. “I feel really stupid. We’re leaving
in the morning, right?”
“Yes, we’re leaving in the morning.” Mao heaves a sigh, and reaches over,
giving Makoto’s shoulder a squeeze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you that to make
you feel stupid, just—to warn you. I don’t trust him, and I don’t think you
should, either. He alsoprobably didn’t tell you that he’s here now because he
faced being thrown out of the capital entirely for brawling a high-ranking
knight, and his only other option was to temporarily become Sir Arashi’s aide.”
That was probably my fault, Makoto thinks irrationally. If I were still his
friend, I could have stopped him, I could have saved him...he’d be a great
knight by now, and everyone would be fighting over who got to fight with him,
not fighting because he’s being...this way. “He really is a good person deep
down,” he mutters, aware that he sounds so sentimental that his Masters at the
Academy would break out the switch for it. “Is he...in a lot of trouble, do you
think? Will he be all right? I know, I know, I’ve cut all ties, I promise--”
Mao waves a hand, dismissive. Makoto needs to get this out of his system, and
he’s the most neutral party to do it with, after all. “For better or for
worse,” he begrudgingly begins, “he’s made a name for himself on the
battlefield as well. Or so I’ve heard. He’s more than fine.” He leans forward,
elbows braced on his knees. “Makoto—if he tries to talk to you again, promise
me you’ll keep your own best interests in mind? And if you can’t, you can call
me and I’ll deal with him for you, you know that.” He hesitates, and deals with
the elephant in the room. “I know you think he’s very beautiful. Not an
accusation, and I won’t report it, just…I know.”
Makoto feels his face burning, and he nods. “I’ll be smart. I’ll do whatever I
have to, I promise I won’t let you down.”
Because Mao probably won’t report him, which means if Makoto is an idiot, Mao
will be on the hook also. He can’t let that happen, can’t let anything happen
to Izumi, who has a promising career, who is so lovely that someone will be so
happy someday.
Without wanting to, he flashes back to one of his earliest lessons. “You may
have friends, a fiance, parents, or siblings back home,” his instructor, Lord
Careson, had said. “You can only make them happy by serving the realm. If they
ever smile on their own, you will not be responsible. They will never smile for
you again. Improve the realm to make them happy. They do not belong to you. You
belong to the realm.”
 “I belong to the realm,” he echoes quietly. “The King’s safety is my pleasure.
The land’s prosperity is my satisfaction.”
It would be good if that bastard actually stayed good on his word.
 His own opinions on wizarding laws and kings aside, Mao still nods, and
reaches over to gentle muss Makoto’s hair. “I trust you,” he quietly says,
because in all the time he’s spent escorting wizards to and fro, sometimes,
that’s what they need to hear more than anything. “Take it easy, okay? I’m not
going to let him or anyone else make this difficult for you, I promise.”
Makoto sighs out a long breath, nodding gratefully at Mao, though he keeps his
hands in his lap. It’s much easier to interact with people who know how much
they’re allowed to touch him, and how much he’s allowed to touch them, people
who don’t come into his space and heart to try and make a space for themselves
where he’s not allowed to let them. “Thank you. I’ll be worthy of your trust, I
swear it as a man.”
“Good.” Mao offers him up a smile, and he climbs to his feet. “I’m going to
send for your lunch, okay? I figured you might as well enjoy some Northern
cooking while we’re up here.”
Makoto’s stomach growls audibly. “Did...”
No. He’s already been poorly behaved today. Giving Mao something so stupid to
write to his Masters about is far worse than not knowing if his mother asked
about him. “Did you have a chance to sleep well last night?” he asks instead.
“Not in the slightest,” Mao dryly replies, rubbing at the back of his neck.
“The party was loud, wasn’t it?”
He would tell Makoto that his mother no longer lives anywhere near the estate
confines, let alone works for them…but what’s the point in him knowing that if
he can’t contact her, when she clearly doesn’t want to contact him? “Anyway, go
back to your reading. I’ll be back in a bit.”
“I will. Thank you.”
But after Mao leaves, Makoto can’t make his eyes focus on a single written
word.
***** Chapter 8 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
The North has some amenities that Mika could get used to.
It’s cold, of course, and he could do without that—but they have a number of
countermeasures for such things. Among them are the enormous slabs of rock that
are constantly dropped down into underground chambers full of geysers and
dragged back up through a system of pulleys, leaving them hot through and
through as if the sun has baked them for days straight. Then, covered with
blankets, usually a small table, too, for nobles that are trying to still get
something done, they’re perfect for curling up on and basking, as if humans are
temporarily turned to snakes.
Mika does not hate that concept.
Because he’s a wizard, and don’t you know, a particularly dangerous one, he
gets his own stone sanctioned off in a little room away from the rest. The
steam from underground still filters up through the room, and his stone is
draped in heavy blankets that leave him sighing contently as he wallows in
them. Today is a good day—namely, a day where he’s decided to pretend that he’s
on vacation from everything that has to do with being a wizard, and he’s alone,
besides, so being completely and entirely naked underneath his pile of blankets
is an unadulterated luxury, all clothing and trappings discarded in a pile on
the floor. Shu would scold him, the Academy would punish him, but, ahh…
Warming stones are good.
Mika rolls over onto his belly, his long, messy hair flopping over his face and
pooling onto the floor off the stone. Maybe, if he’s quiet, everyone will
forget he’s even here and he can stay like this forever.
Arashi opens the door as quietly as he can, standing in front of the closed
door with a little smile playing on his face. “Mika, darling, you awake? Or did
you finally boil to death, and I’ll have to throw myself on your pyre?”
“Nnnn.”
Mika doesn’t bother moving, except to flop one hand in greeting. His nails are
recently painted in glittering dark red, courtesy of Shu’s insistence that he
can’t be seen chipped and poorly maintained in front of Northern nobles.
“Arashiii, did you know? Warming stones are so good…”
Arashi sits daintily on the table currently above Mika’s blankets, reaching
down to tousle his messy hair. “No wonder you’re so attached to it, like
attracts like, heh?”
Mika makes a low, grumbly noise, but it’s far from unhappy. He rolls, twisting
onto his back, blankets slinking down his shoulders enough to make it apparent
that he’s very naked underneath them, and he grabs for Arashi’s hand, tugging.
“Come lie with me.” It’s a deliberate double entendre, and Mika follows it up
sweetly with, “It’s soo warm, kara. Aren’t y’cold? The North would be terrible
without these, huh…”
A shiver that has nothing to do with the weather goes through Arashi, and he
bites the inside of his cheek. It would be easy to convince himself that Mika
doesn’t know what he’s doing, but Arashi knows better. Mika might be adorable,
but he’s also crafty.
Unfortunately, Arashi has always been weak to cute, crafty boys like that.
He sticks his toes down under the blankets as a compromise. “I can’t lie down
there right now, I’m working,” he says gently. “I just came to tell you about
our orders. Stop being so tempting.”
Mika, undeterred, slowly hauls himself up, letting the blankets pool around his
lap instead as he props his chin into his hands, elbows on the table to better
peer up at Arashi. “Can’t. I’m jus’ like this. Mmn, it must be dumb, if you’re
comin’ to tell me directly.”
Arashi grimaces. “The orders are stupid,” he admits. “They only make sense in
the Capital, you know? They think that because we’ve been defending the West
and then the Inglings attacked the North, it means we’re giving my lands
preferential treatment--the bastards, as if they didn’t give me those lands
exactly because they wanted me to defend them? As if we didn’t ride hell-for-
leather, losing lots of men, to defend the North, even though it cost me--”
He cuts himself off with a muttered curse. “They’re sending us South to patrol
the Sandlands. It’s a popular move in the Capital, apparently.”
Mika’s mouth immediately twists, and he throws himself back down, dragging the
blankets over his head. “Nope.”
“I know, sweetheart, I know, but that’s the thing about orders, they’re not
optional.”
“Tell them y’lost me. I’ll just stay here and boil until I steam away
t’nothin’.”
Arashi sighs, rubbing at his forehead. “All right. I thought it might be too
much. I’ll have you transferred to Captain Morisawa’s legion, he needs a
wizard. They’re right on the ocean, you’ll never need to go South. I’ll miss
you.”
Mika growls, low and displeased. “I can’t be apart from Master,” he firmly
says, easing the blanket down enough to glower up at Arashi with his mismatched
stare. “And I ain’t leavin’ you, either. Come lie with me.”
Arashi wavers. The second he catches those mismatched eyes with his own, he’s
lost, and knows it. His knees hit the warm stone, and he curls, getting his
arms and legs around Mika, keeping him bundled up in the blanket. “There,
that’s really nice,” he murmurs, knowing he’s being absolutely stupid, nuzzling
into Mika’s chin anyway because he’s weak. “I have to go South. It’s my
orders.”
The displeasure and unease leaves in an instant, and Mika sighs long and easy
into Arashi’s hair. “Nnn…I don’t wanna go.” He doesn’t squirm out of the
blanket to free his arms and legs yet, but he’s thinking about it. Arashi is
another layer of warmth even on the stone, and Mika’s eyes lid. “But I’m not
leavin’ you. The South is no good…I can’t let y’run around there by yourself…no
one else knows the stuff I do.”
“It’s not like I’m going to live there,” Arashi explains gently. “No more than
I’m living in the North right now. We’re just going to set up a huge camp at
the edge of town. The Inglings don’t even go there, they’re terrified of the
Sharps, the King is just...I don’t know. For some reason the Southern
contingent wanted us to move down there because it looks biased if we’re up
here, no matter that this is where the enemy was, idiots.”
“It’s because he wants all of you in his brothels.”
“....ehh? What?”
“Mm. All the brothels down there are owned by the crown, y’know.” Arashi
doesn’t know, and that’s fine. It’s probably good that most people don’t. “They
like sendin’ armies down there ‘cause all of y’all are really horny.”
Arashi scowls. “Damn. That means a lot of work for me, you know. I’ve got three
thousand men to move down there, that’s a lot of disease to deal with. Not to
mention fights, babies, camp followers...ugh. What do they think of bastards
down there?” Mika would know. “I mean, because in the North here they seem to
care a lot, but in the Capital it doesn’t seem to matter--but up here they
don’t care whether you lie with men or women. I’m confused.”
“Bastards of whores work in the brothels.” Mika doesn’t even bat an eye as he
says it, but he shifts, discreetly freeing his arms from the blanket to get
them around Arashi’s waist. “Girls or boys, doesn’t matter. Mm, if the boys
grow up ugly, though, they get booted to the streets or stick around to beat up
patrons that don’t pay, if they grow up real strong and can make money like
that.”
You grew up pretty, Arashi thinks, though he doesn’t say it aloud. They’ve
never actually talked about Mika’s childhood, but from what he knows and what
he’s seen, they don’t have to. “Is it something that respectable people talk
about? It sounds like there are a lot of brothels, are there going to be enough
for all the men? How clean are they? Sorry to ask, I only just found out about
this...”
“Oh, there’s enough. That’s th’ point. Every street’s got at least one.” Mika
hesitates, slowly worrying his lower lip with his teeth. “How clean they are
depends on how expensive they are. You’ve got the high class ones right in the
middle of town, but the further out you go, closer to the actual deserts, those
are the ones that are bad. Not enough water to drink, let alone bathe, y’know?
But the crown makes a lot of money like that, and whores have lots of babies,
so it’s easy to replace us when we die.” The lapse of speech goes unnoticed by
Mika, and he idly slides his fingers underneath Arashi’s uniform to press his
nails into his back muscles. Nice. “Noblemen have their favorite girls and talk
about ‘em all the time. Noblewomen have their favorite boys and talk about ‘em
all the time. And vice versa, but they don’t talk about that as much. It’s not
like up here, where no one cares who you’re kissin’, but it’s not like the
capital, either, where they’ll snub you. Everyone does what they want,
jus’…some more quietly, heh.”
Arashi groans, burying his face in Mika’s shoulder. “This is going to be the
worst. I’m going to have to...hmm. Do something. I can’t just let them run
roughshod. I don’t want to have everyone remember that time the soldiers came
to the Sandlands and left behind disease and a thousand bastards. Maybe I
can...work out some kind of token program with the highest-class ones, where
I’ll guarantee them exclusive contracts  or something? Ugh, this isn’t what I
thought I signed up for when I became Captain. Maybe I should just cordon off
the whole camp and shoot anyone that tries to buy a whore.” He’s only half-
kidding.
“The king’ll be pissed if y’do that,” Mika says. “I’m tellin’ you, that’s why
he’s sending y’all down there…you’re not the first army that’s come runnin’
through, it happens all the time.” He shrugs, snuggling closer, kicking off his
blankets entirely now in favor of winding all four bare limbs around Arashi.
“You can try to set up contracts and stuff…but the expensive ones are reeeeally
expensive. Most of your men can’t afford that, heh.”
Arashi’s pulse spikes, and he can’t quite keep himself from nuzzling against
Mika’s cheek, even knowing as he does that this is a bad choice, that he
doesn’t trust himself nearly enough to be this close. They’re cheek to cheek
now, all limbs entwined, and only the thick blanket tangled between them keeps
them from being on the wrong side of a death penalty. “Okay, what’s your
suggestions, then? Do your--do the whores down there spread fatal or
disfiguring diseases like they do in the West? Do they have medicines and ways
of treating stuff?”
“Dunno. I mean, I never saw anything super gross. It’s too hot down there for
the typical diseases, I think.” Mika purrs, low and rumbly, and his painted
fingers drag up Arashi’s back, idly hiking up his uniform and undershirt to pet
down his bare spine. Stupid? Definitely. His eyes unfocus, just for a moment,
as he listens—but the air is quiet, and that makes him unafraid, and bold. “If
people are missing limbs’n’stuff, it’s because they sold ‘em off, not because
fever took it. The high-class girls have medicines to keep from getting knocked
up all the time, though. They wait ‘till it’s a really hot guy to let that
happen. They can make a percentage of what their kid makes, so obviously, they
want a pretty one.” His lips purse. “They’d want you. The snake. Men like
that.”
“Of course, darling. Everyone wants me.” Arashi’s breath hitches, and he purses
his lips, trying not to be stupid. Finally, he has to say something, because
his emotions aren’t going to let him much longer. “Mika, darling, we can’t go
this far, this is too much.”
The noise Mika makes is decidedly displeased. “You’ve been ignoring me,” he
grouses, flexing his nails in slowly. “I don’t want you to go to the South and
climb in bed with a bunch of whores.”
Arashi exhales, letting his eyes close. “I’m trying to be good, darling. Have
you ever known me to climb into bed with one whore, let alone a bunch of them?
Like grapes?”
“Yeah. That snake. You smell like him right now.”
“Izumi isn’t a whore. Be nice. We swore a blood pact, and no one wanted to kill
a child, so sex was the only way. You know that.”
“He makes my eyes hurt. I don’t like him.”
“Eh?” Arashi has known Mika for years now, and that particular phrase makes him
open his eyes, frowning. “What do you mean, he makes your eyes hurt? Like when
there’s a glamour on someone? Or like he’s possessed?”
“No, like…” Mika struggles to put it into words, words that a normal, non-
wizard human will understand. He can speak what sounds like nonsense to Shu all
day and he understands immediately, but translating not only to a tongue he
fumbles with, anyway, then to someone that isn’t a wizard… “Like how Ritsu
does,” he finally settles upon.
“But you said Ritsu made your eyes hurt because he isn’t completely human. Is
that...” Arashi’s eyes widen. “Is that it? Izumi--are you saying he isn’t
totally human?”
“Mm. Yeah, that’s it. He’s creepy, like a snake, not like a snog.”
“Hm.” Arashi considers pursuing that line of thought for a moment, then
dismisses it. “Well, then he’ll be really unhappy when we go South where it’s
warm, if he really is something. I’ll confront him when it matters. But I’ve
got another question to ask. Are the body-snatchers offering high enough prices
that I have to worry about my men selling off their parts? Or is it only orphan
children and ugly whores that get that desperate?”
“Not gonna happen. The South’s good for soldiers because the king wants y’all
there, remember?” Mika lurches forward again, nuzzling into Arashi’s neck,
exhaling a warm, slow breath there. “Y’shouldn’t be making blood pacts with
half-bloods, kara,” he breathes. “It doesn’t do shit.”
“It doesn’t?”
Arashi’s heart sinks. There were four people sworn to that pact, and none of
them are safe if any of them spills their secrets. Tsukasa won’t--can’t--and
Arashi can’t and won’t. He’d trust Ritsu with his life after all he knows about
the man...but Izumi? Can he be trusted?
Time will tell, he supposes. Time, and perhaps he may need to have a
“conversation” with him soon.
“I’ll handle it,” he promises, because Mika is so distracting. “Don’t worry
about me. Oh...I wanted to ask.”
His hand ventures up, and he brushes the hair out of Mika’s face, looking down
at the blue eye. “Is there something I’m supposed to call you in return? When
you call me kara? Because I would.”
Mika’s breath hitches, and suddenly, nothing else really matters. He could
spend his time reassuring that Izumi doesn’t know shit, and probably thinks
he’s still bound by the pact anyway, because he’s an idiot, but that’s really
unimportant when Arashi is touching him and…saying things like that.
He licks his lips, laser-focused on Arashi’s mouth…or maybe his hands, both
distracting. Other wizards have it easy, he’s always secretly thought. Most of
them were snatched up so young that the concept of sex and pleasure hadn’t been
driven into their brains yet, so taking that out of the picture didn’t matter.
They also don’t have gorgeous knights or captains paying them any mind
constantly, he guesses.
“Amaka.” Mika’s head tilts. “They’re from the phrase ‘amakara hlengiwe
imanikara’, which…nnnh…I’m not good at translatin’,” he complains, leaning his
head back. “But the feel is like…being homesick for the person y’love, that
kinda thing. You don’t use those words unless you’re married, heh.” 
Arashi’s heart flutters, in the stupid, embarrassing way that it only does
around Mika, the weird, creepy, awkward, night-blooming flower that he’s
somehow decided to follow for the rest of his life. “You should give me a token
to carry into battle,” he whispers, keeping his voice down just in case someone
is walking by the stoneroom. “Like the great knights do with their ladies’
handkerchiefs. I’ll wear it by my heart,a...amaka, is that right?”
Mika’s eyes glitter, and he nods before he suddenly lurches up, his mouth hot
against the side of Arashi’s neck. “Just like that,” he murmurs, his fingers
twisting up into the front of Arashi’s uniform. “Nnn, Arashiii, if we’re goin’
to the far South, you’re gonna want to keep me real close~…they like to trick
fancy nobles and I can speak the language, y’know?”
“Mika, darling, be careful,” Arashi pleads, feeling his body rouse immediately,
even if he can’t bring himself to leave. It’s his own fault, at the end of the
day, because he’s just not strong enough, just not brave enough to push him
away. “I’m begging you, don’t make it harder than it already is.”
A low, frustrated sound leaves Mika’s throat, and his hand immediately slides
lower, grabbing at Arashi’s laces unrepentantly. “You smell like that snake,
and it pisses me off,” he says, sudden and aggressive in how he presses closer,
a thigh shoved between Arashi’s legs as his mouth attacks the lobe of his ear,
nipping, sucking. “No one’s listening,” he whispers. “If you want me, this is a
good time.”
Arashi reaches before he can think, grabbing Mika and pressing a hot kiss to
his cheek, then his neck, then moves to his mouth before sanity reasserts
itself and he wrenches his head back, yanking the blanket up over Mika’s face,
his chest heaving. “M-Mika, amaka, darling, please, I’m not that strong, if we
do it once I’ll never be able to stop--”
Mika, undeterred, grabs at Arashi’s hand from underneath the blanket, dragging
it to his mouth in the next instant. His teeth catch in the leather of Arashi’s
gloves, then rips them off with a firm jerk, his tongue dragging immediately
over the tip of his thumb. “I’ll stop you,” he reassures Arashi, though he’s
not sure how he’ll ever be able to. He probably doesn’t sound all that
convincing, either, with how his voice is breathy and overly eager. “The snake
says he’ll fix things, doesn’t he? I’ll be nice to him if you let me believe
that, so please…”
A breathy shudder goes through Arashi. It’s too late to stop, he knows it, when
Mika’s tongue touches his thumb he’ll never be able to stop. He curls his
thumb, dragging it over the flat of his tongue, and tries hard to make a
decision.
He reaches down, rubbing between Mika’s legs with one hand through the blanket.
He expects to find the hard flat plane of his weird underwear--he’s gotten this
far, shameful as it is, before--and to find nothing but soft thighs and a hard
cock makes him groan, eyes closing. “Mika, you’re so bad, are you trying to get
me killed?”
“Stop sayin’ that,” Mika murmurs around Arashi’s thumb before he sucks it into
his mouth, his fingers curling around Arashi’s wrist to keep his hand close
even as his thighs spread. Arashi’s hands make him tremble, his toes curling
uselessly against blankets and stone, and he wriggles his way closer, a little
gasp escaping at the contact. “Karaa…touch me, you feel good…”
If it’s through the blanket, maybe it doesn’t count. Arashi doesn’t believe
that, but maybe, maybe, it’ll at least be enough of a technicality that he
won’t be flayed alive if anyone finds out, and won’t trigger the weird alarm
system that’s alerted magic-sniffers like Ritsu’s friend to wizard-lovers in
the past.
Either way, dead or alive, he can’t stop now.
His hand curls, enough to feel the shape of Mika’s hard cock in his hand,
rubbing and squeezing against it with every tug of his hand. He’s already on
the edge just from how close they are, from how urgent this feels, enough that
he’s hiccupping for breath. “Amaka,” he breathes, trying to be gentle, knowing
this can’t be the best texture in the world. “Gods, just let me see your
beautiful face when you come, I swear I’ll be satisfied until I die--”
If they’re going to do this, if Arashi is going to die—no, no, don’t think of
that part—then they’re going to do this exactly how Mika wants to.
Mika shifts, squirming, yanking the blanket away and tossing it to the side
before he leaps on Arashi, flushed and hungry and with his mouth already hot
against Arashi’s ear as he straddles his hips. “You’re mine,” he breathes, his
eyes all but glowing, as his own hand drags to Arashi’s cock, squeezing it
through fabric, then yanking the laces open with deft fingers to slide his hand
down and actually touch bare skin. How hard Arashi is makes Mika whimper, and
he nips at the lobe of Arashi’s ear before his tongue slides up along the edge
of it. “So treat me like I’m yours.”
It’s too late.
Arashi knows deep in his heart, with the fragment of his mind still capable of
knowing anything, that this was over the second his feet touched the warming
stone. That was it, his first and last opportunity to walk away. He’d come
closer, and closer, knowing deep in his heart that all along it would lead
here.
He kicks off his breeches with prejudice, seizing Mika’s mouth in his for a
kiss he’s wanted to give for the better part of a decade, hot and wet and
seeking, yearning, truly understanding what it means to be homesick for someone
sitting right in front of him.
He doesn’t bother preparing Mika, reaching down, making it good, any of it. He
ruts up, blind and stupid with lust, grinding his hard cock against Mika’s,
already on the edge, so close he can taste it, so close he aches, when the two
of them are naked and kissing and tangled up in each other after so long. The
alarm bells are probably already ringing, he knows, but at least he’ll die for
grabbing the one thing he’s ever loved, pressing down against him with deep,
firm grinds of his hips, kissing him so hard it’s as if they’ll never part.
“Amaka,” he moans, Mika’s waist in his hands, feeling so tiny and fragile when
the man is anything but.
Mika’s hands are desperate when they grab for Arashi’s hair, sinking in and
clinging to him as his breath escapes hot and desperate. Arashi’s hands against
him are rough and demanding, and it makes him nearly come right then and there
when every little fantasy he’s ever been wrapped up in comes to fruition.
If they kill Arashi, he’s just going to have to die, too—that’s all there is to
it.
He sucks on Arashi’s tongue with a muffled groan, his nails scraping down to
Arashi’s shoulders where he has a better chance of holding on for dear life
with every single reflexive arch and grind of his body. “Y’feel so good,” he
gasps out, his teeth sharp against Arashi’s lower lip. “Kara—I’m—“
He dissolves with a whimper, his face hot as the sudden slickness between them
makes it all the better to move against Arashi, even if he’s suddenly too shaky
to be of much help.
It doesn’t matter if Mika moves or not. Arashi is so hot, on the edge already
with just Mika’s breath in his ear, and when Mika moves against him, he’s lost.
It’s unlike any orgasm he’s ever had, because it’s Mika, because this is what
he’s wanted for years, because for once in his life the one grabbing at him and
breathing his name is the one he loves most. He sobs when he comes, clinging
with arms that are trying, god, he’s trying not to grab too tightly, but he’s
probably messing that up, too.
He presses another hot kiss to Mika’s mouth, unwilling to open his eyes yet,
wanting to stay in the moment as long as he possibly can, wanting to stay
happy, healthy, together.
Mika stretches and purrs, stroking and petting his fingers slowly through
Arashi’s hair, nuzzling and kissing along his neck. He can feel the little
fingerprints of bruises underneath Arashi’s fingers and relishes in them. Maybe
he’ll panic about them later—who knows?—but right now, nothing feels better,
being sweaty and sticky and pressed skin-to-skin with the man that he’s
considered leveling the entire capital for.
I still might, Mika darkly thinks, absently sucking on the lobe of Arashi’s
ear, his teeth a gentle scrape against it. “Even if they caught us,” he
absently, morbidly thinks, “they might believe I seduced you, ‘cuz it’s me.”
Reality sets in. Arashi presses a firm, fond kiss to Mika’s cheek, then stands,
tousling his hair as he does. The despair he’d been expecting doesn’t come.
Instead, it’s replaced with a cool, comforting sense of purpose. “Don’t worry,
amaka,” he says with a cheery smile, pulling on his trousers, then finding his
sword belt, pulling off the peace tie and tucking it into his pocket. “I’ll
take care of it. Wait here.”
Mika sighs. He flops back down onto the warming stone, chin in his hands as he
rolls onto his stomach. “You’re not even gonna let me lick you clean before you
go?” he asks. “Oh well. I’ll sew you something cute.” Don’t die until then.
Arashi gives Mika a bright, cheerful wink. “Of course, darling. It better be as
cute as you are, or I’ll just put it aside and kiss you instead.”
And with that, he heads out to find the magic-sniffer.
It isn’t difficult, when he’s the Captain. He always makes it his business to
know where all his men are stationed, and it’s easy to find the man called Mao.
He hasn’t been in love with a wizard for a decade without knowing the protocol.
The sniffer gets the signal, sends the message, and the full force of the
Academy’s dark power comes down on the offender. None of it can be stopped.
Only one man has ever eluded the hunters, and he wasn’t human.
So Arashi moves fast, and doesn’t knock, kicking open the door to Mao’s room so
hard the latch goes flying, and he enters, sword already unsheathed and pointed
at the man’s throat. “Hello! Let’s talk.”
Mao’s hands immediately come up, the quill in his grasp fluttering back down to
the desk in front of him. He doesn’t particularly look surprised, and he sits
unmoving, staring back at Arashi as he heaves a long sigh. “Please do me a
favor and lower that thing, Sir Arashi.”
“Ah, no.”
Arashi kicks the door shut without taking his eyes off of Mao. He tips his
sword, impaling the letter Mao had been writing, then holding it to the nearby
candle’s flame. “Nothing to lose, you understand,” he says, not particularly
apologetic. “I know, I know, no one runs and gets away, but I’m really fast, so
I’m going to make a go of it. If killing you gets me a headstart, I’m going to
do it.”
“That isn’t a letter you need to burn.”
Mao lowers his hands, setting them on the desk in front of him so that Arashi
doesn’t think he’s trying to reach for a dagger or anything equally useless.
He’s not stupid; trying to face this man in combat would be a death sentence.
“Read it if you want. It’s to a friend of mine in the East.” He stares back at
Arashi, blinking slowly. “He wasn’t wrong,” he simply adds, “no one was
listening.”
“But you lot don’t just listen, do you? You watch, and you smell, and you sense
in other ways, right?” Arashi flicks his eyes around the room, but doesn’t
lower his sword, and it doesn’t waver in the slightest. “Tell me the truth and
I’ll let you live,” he says, letting the letter drop off the end of the blade.
“Because you’re Ritsu’s friend. How long until they come?”
“Your knowledge about this entire process is actually a little unnerving? Ah…I
don’t have time for this.” Mao sighs again, briefly shutting his eyes. “It’s
impossible for me not to know about something like…that.” Not mentioning it by
names absolves him of quite a bit, thankfully. “That doesn’t mean anyone else
knows what I know, unless I let them know, as you obviously think I already
have. I haven’t.”
“Why not?” Arashi demands. His heart isn’t thudding so hard anymore, though it
feels more like when he’s in the heat of battle than when he’s doing something
truly frightening. Battle has always felt good to him, and this does, too. “You
think it’s your holy mission to stop us, right? So why haven’t you sent the
message?”
“You’re mistaking me for the Academy itself,” Mao wearily points out. “Which
is…troublesome. Ahh, I can’t tell you why, explicitly. That would be betraying
my other master, and I would be dead far swifter by his hand than yours if I
did that. All I’ll say is…if I were to report this, the wizard in question
would absolutely be taken away. The resultant reaction from the other wizard in
your domain would be…catastrophic, and between the two of them throwing their
resultant fits, it would be…ugh.” He rubs at the bridge of his nose. “So, even
if I weren’t following orders, I probably would hesitate to say anything
anyway, because there are too few men alive capable of dealing with the
aftermath of such a thing.”
Arashi’s mouth twists. “Speak plainly. I’m a soldier, not a diplomat.”
“The wizards you have in your possession are too powerful and volatile, Milord,
and warrant special consideration.”
That sounds...false. Arashi narrows his eyes. “Even plainer. What happens
next?”
“Nothing. That doesn’t mean this should continue indiscriminately,” Mao swiftly
adds, leaning forward where he sits. “Because if it does, I will be forced to
take action.”
A breath in, then out. “You’re saying this is a warning,” Arashi says, watching
Mao very carefully. “If this is a lie, tell me now. I will spare your life, I
swear, but...I don’t mind facing death. I just don’t want it to come in that
way that the Academy’s hunters deal it out. If it’s a choice between that, I’ll
gladly let you kill me here and now to spare Mika.”
“I’m saying,” Mao patiently says, slowly rising to his feet, his hands lifting
to make sure Arashi doesn’t react by running him through, “that I won’t report
it. I’ve been given my orders, Milord.” He pauses, and then adds, very
carefully, “Do you believe I honestly feel nothing of what transpires with
Ritsu—or what his existence is, wholly—and still serve the Academy?”
Arashi’s eyes narrow to slits. His hand doesn’t waver on his sword, but he
feels the prick of nervous sweat on the back of his neck. “You’re...a spy. Then
you’re endangering your mission by covering for me. Who gives your orders?”
“I’m not endangering my mission if covering up what you’re doing coincides with
my mission, Milord.”
“I asked you who gives your orders,” Arashi says softly, stepping forward so
the tip of his blade is a hairsbreadth from Mao’s throat, the blade just barely
touching his chin. “Army security, you understand. I’d never sacrifice the
lives of my men to cover my misdeeds.”
Mao feels a trickle of sweat drip down his spine. “If you kill me, you’ll have
someone that isn’t sympathetic to you or your needs breathing down your neck.”
“And you’re very sympathetic,” Arashi says, obviously skeptical. “So
sympathetic that you waited to tell me how sympathetic you were until I had a
sword pointed at your face.”
“Yes, Milord. That’s part of being a spy, Milord. Being convincing is almost
the entire battle; keeping one’s mouth shut is the rest of it. If I had
reported you, you would already have been captured by now.” Mao sucks in a slow
breath. “My requests are handled with the highest priority. But as it is, here
you are, still capable of threatening me.”
Finally, Arashi sheathes his sword. “If you’re telling the truth,” he says
quietly, “you will have a champion in me, when you declare for your side. If
you betray me...you had better hope your hunters are as fast as everyone says
they are. Because I’m very fast.”
“So I’ve heard.” Mao rocks back onto his heels, his pulse thudding too-fast
only now that Arashi has sheathed his sword, and he flops back into his chair,
burying his face into one hand. “Honestly…you should have believed me just
based on the carnage your two wizards would cause…”
Arashi shrugs his sword arm, working out some of the nervous tension. “The
Academy doesn’t always do the smart thing,” he points out. “So. What do I need
to know? What can and can’t I do, who is and isn’t safe, whose side are you on,
are you recruiting in my army?”
“The Academy is in no place to be anything but smart right now,” Mao mutters,
kneading away at his budding headache. “But that’s neither here nor there.
Quite frankly, when I’m around, I don’t care what you do so long as you aren’t
foolish about flaunting your, ah, excursions. My presence alone blocks the
acting of anyone else that would be listening, watching, hearing. This time,
you were lucky. I’m not here for anything other than an Academy-related task,
and that’s just traveling through, delivering my current charge.” He pauses,
and firmly adds: “Let me be very clear. When I leave, keep your hands off of
him until I come back.”
That, at least, makes sense, and Arashi hears the words behind them--because
someone else will be watching. He’d gotten embarrassingly lucky; every town has
someone talented enough, if not fifty of them, to hear forbidden behavior, and
the rewards for reporting are powerful. It had been dumb luck that he’d picked
out Mao, and that he’s apparently a strong enough sniffer to block anyone else
who might come looking, for now. Slowly, he nods, and folds his arms. “What do
you want in exchange?”
“I’m not working for you, keeping this under wraps just coincides with what I’m
doing, anyway,” Mao exasperatedly points out. “But if you’re going to grant me
something, fine, I have a few requests. Make sure Ritsu is on his best behavior
when I’m away, keep him on a proper sleeping schedule, and don’t let him go out
in the cold improperly clothed. I don’t like the Sena heir, and I’d prefer he
didn’t associate with Ritsu more than necessary. Ahh…what else…”
“You’re not working for Izumi?” Arashi asks, suddenly very skeptical. If
there’s a third force at work, this is bigger than he’d anticipated. But Mao
doesn’t act as if he’s working for Ritsu, not when he sounds so concerned with
Ritsu walking around without mittens. “What’s your master’s end goal?”
“…Why would I be working for that brat?” Mao incredulously asks. “He’s nothing
but a country hick playing at being a knight. Milord, I thought we went over
this? A large part of my job is keeping my mouth shut. All I can say is that
the main reason I’m not reporting you is because of your, ah, love interest’s
relation to your other wizard. It’s important to my master that Shu remains
happy and whole.”
For all that Arashi has heard, Shu is just an especially insane young wizard
with weird lofty ideas that has a penchant for blowing things up when reality
coincides painfully with his mental state. But apparently, he isn’t seeing
nearly enough of the full picture. He nods slowly, as if he understands. “All
right. I accept what you’re saying. And I’ll do my part and keep my distance
whenever you’re gone. Politics aren’t my favorite thing, so I’ll stay a simple
soldier. We’re headed down South anyway, so we should be out of your hair soon
enough.”
And because it’s apparently keeping him alive, he asks archly, “Is there
anything that his Excellency Shu might require, on the journey?”
So long as Ritsu is traveling with you, you can’t expect me to be out
ofyourhair.“Ask him, not me,” Mao wearily replies. “I honestly don’t know him
that well. He’s my master’s interest, not mine.” He hesitates, then adds, “If
your special interest has trouble believing that you aren’t about to be dead
because of him, you can mention all of this—but not me by name.”
“Oh, I’m just going to tell him I killed the magic sniffer,” Arashi says
cheerfully. “Sounds a lot more believable than stumbling on a secret triple-
blind plot involving his master, don’t you think?”
“Not really? If you killed me, then they really would have come for you.”
“All right...like I said, I’m a soldier, not a diplomat. Tell me what to tell
my nervous wizard so he feels at-ease.”
“Just tell him it’s because of his master’s patron. He’ll believe you, and it’s
not like it’s a lie.”
“How did everyone know that Shu had a patron except me? How does a wizard even-
-isn’t he supposed to be my wizard?”
“…As you’ve pointed out several times during this conversation, Milord, you
don’t really pay attention to things if they don’t involve warfare in some
way.”
Arashi almost objects to that, but it’s true, so he just smiles instead. “Well!
Then I’ve got some apologies to make. Oh, and when are you leaving?” Not that
he’s planning on making the most of it while Mao is here, after all. It’s one
thing in the Capital, or the South, where there are hundreds of magic sniffers.
Here in the North, where there’s just one? That sounds like the time to take
advantage.
“Tomorrow morning.” Mao’s expression is wry. “You know, you could apologize to
me, for pointing your sword in my face.”
“Oh, grow up, I didn’t cut you even a little. I didn’t even push you, I’m much
meaner to my friends.” Arashi winks, and opens the door. “Sorry, gotta go, very
busy!”
The idea that Mika has actually stayed where he’s told sounds a bit
unbelievable, but Arashi had asked him to stay put. He dashes back to the
stoneroom, and almost collapses with relief, seeing Mika still huddled under
the blanket. “Hello, darling.”
Mika jumps nearly out of his skin, bolting upright into a sitting position and
yanking the blanket with him to cover himself. It’s a rather ladylike gesture,
but it’s nerves that makes him do it, makes him think it isn’t Arashi that’s
burst in to see him again but instead someone else posing as him to trick
him—until he really looks, of course, and his heart rate slows down a beat or
two. “Arashi,” he whispers, still wary, having had enough time to really
process what he’d done doing his anxiety no favors. “Are you…are they coming?
I…I’ll slow you down, if you need to run…”
“It’s all fine.” Arashi takes off his sword belt, hanging it on a hook by the
front door, and settles in next to Mika, pulling him close against his chest.
“We got really lucky. C’mere, amaka, we have until the morning.”
“…Explain,” Mika demands, even as he lets Arashi pull him close, finding it
difficult to resist even if he doesn’t entirely understand. His hands rest
against Arashi’s chest, fingers slowly drumming. “I knew no one was listenin’,
but…”
“But the sniffer was,” Arashi says gently. “And we’re lucky, because he’s
strong enough that no one else heard us. Looks like he’s working for your
master’s patron, so really, we couldn’t have been luckier.”
“Ooooh.” That makes a world of sense, and relief floods through Mika’s body,
pitching him forward to enthusiastically drape his arms around Arashi’s neck.
“I knew it felt right,” he sighs giddily, his mouth going for one of Arashi’s
earrings, tongue snaking around it and gently pulling on it with his teeth.
“Mm…my instincts are still the best. Ahh, Master’s so lucky, havin’ someone
like that, and now he’s lookin’ out for me, too…”
“Ehhhh, Mika, darling, you know who it is, you know what’s going on?” Arashi
tugs on Mika’s hair, still dizzy, unable to believe that this is real, it’s
happening, they’re not dying immediately. “Who is it, what’s happening, I don’t
want to be left out!”
“You don’t know?” Mika returns, quizzical when he tilts his head back with the
tug on his hair. “Ehh…Arashi only cares about swords, for real,” he complains.
“I thought everyone knew, that’s why they let Master take me with him and all
that.”
He leans back, eyes tracing down the front of Arashi’s uniform with his fingers
following behind, idly undoing the fastenings as he goes. “Master’s lover is
really strong,” he hums. “And has eyes everywhere. If the King of Demons is
keeping an eye on my master again, he’ll be really happy, for sure.”
Arashi blinks. “Eh? King of Demons? I thought that was just a campfire story to
tease gullible recruits, are you saying that’s a real person?”
“Of course he’s a real person,” Mika admonishes, staring up at him. “He’s the
King of Demons. Super scary, really creepy. He loves Master a lot, though.”
Mika flops onto his back, stretching out on the warming stone with a flutter of
his eyelashes, soaking in the warmth as he lifts a hand towards the ceiling. In
the grey light filtering into the room, the vague shadows cast there from heavy
steam and lanterns shift, forming the silhouette of a tall, lean man with long
curling hair and a cloak draped about his shoulders. “I only met him once.”
Shu’s unmistakable silhouette follows, almost as tall next to the King of
Demons, who reaches out with long fingers to grasp Shu’s wrist and pull him
into an obviously intimate embrace. “Or, well…I kinda walked in on them,” he
wryly admits. “I’ve seen a lot of pretty people, but…he was…I don’t even know
how to explain it. My master was right to be swept off his feet.”
Arashi’s mouth parts, and he leans forward, watching the play of shadows under
Mika’s skillful direction. This is art of the likes that very wealthy people
pay to see--art of the likes that a mere Knight who commands the third-largest
army in the realm, who has his own estate with thousands of servants, could
never dream of being able to afford. This is the kind of art that Kings can
command--and my lover does it to avoid explaining things.
“Is he human? What makes him a King of Demons? What kind of interest does he
have in your Master? Ahhh, I knew I should have paid more attention to my
tutors...”
“Master’s kinda shy about talkin’ about him,” Mika admits with a grin, “because
he doesn’t like admittin’ how smitten he is. But he’s still told me a lot, when
he’s all drunk and floppy.”
Shu’s silhouette filters away, and the King of Demons’ shifts in a spray of
shadowy little feathers, the cloak disappearing, replaced by strange, grotesque
wings. “A lot of people say he’s half-demon, but that can mean anything. At
this point, he’s so old…he’s probably more his other half than he is human.”
Mika’s fingers curl and so does the silhouette’s, revealing long, claw-like
nails on each shadowy finger. “I’d ask if y’knew about the Shadowlands, but no
one does. Rumor has it he lives there now…if the rumors on any given day say
he’s alive. He obviously is, though…he loves my master dearly, that’s why he’s
watchin’ him now.”
The shadows shift, pooling and stacking until they can twist suddenly into
thousands and thousands of flowers, building an enormous rose garden as the
wings on the man’s silhouette filter away. “When he bloomed, they say it looked
like that. Life, instead of death—that kinda thing doesn’t happen anymore.”
Arashi whistles low through his teeth, eyes wide as he surveys the chaotic,
sprouting mess of flowers, somehow bringing a sense of sweet hope with them.
Arashi vividly remembers what it had been like when Mika had bloomed, with the
monstrous shadow creatures terrorizing the city, leaving the dead in his wake.
“Makes you understand why they called it blooming,” he says softly, giving
Mika’s waist a squeeze. “It’s crazy that you’ve met him. All I ever heard is
that he’s from the Shadowlands, and he eats recruits who fall asleep on
nightwatch, and he can turn into a griffon.”
“That’s pretty dumb. I know a lot of random stuff about him, but nothin’ like
that.” Mika sticks out his tongue, and wiggles his fingers, the entire shadow
theatre fluttering off into oblivion. “Master likes to ramble on about him when
he’s tipsy, like I said. When I met him, he was real nice, but…still kinda
scary, you know? My eyes hurt a lot, I could barely even look at him. He had a
soft voice, pretty hands, long legs, and my master acted as weak as a kitten
around him. You wouldn’t believe he was the same person, heh.”
Arashi’s eyebrows fly even higher. “Your master--Shu--was giggly and weak as a
kitten? The man that told me I should only open my mouth if it’s to praise him,
but I hadn’t even earned that right yet?”
“Yeeeep. It was real cute, but don’t tell him I said that.” Mika’s mouth
twists, and he pulls the shadows together again on a whim, letting them play
out the scene of the King of Demons neatly catching Shu around the waist to
drag him close, and Shu’s huffy, flustered resignation before being easily
kissed. “His lover’s real sweet to him. Talkin’ to my master…that was the first
time I kinda realized that most wizards hadn’t, y’know, done it before going to
the Academy,” Mika idly notes. “He was askin’ me for advice that time.”
“I mean, most wizards aren’t at puberty yet, right? Most of the ones I hear of
are really young...I know quite a few must have histories like you, but don’t
wizards talk about this kind of thing between themselves? Ah,” Arashi admits,
laughing a little, “I have no idea what the Academy is really like, I suppose?
Is it...well, I hope it wasn’t just horrible all day every day.”
“Boring,” Mika offers up, and the shadows fade away again in favor of him
snuggling up into Arashi’s chest. “No one talks about it ‘cuz no one wants to
get in trouble, which really is annoying,” he complains. “Not as many wizards
are like me as you’d think. There’s a lot of kids from bad places and stuff,
but when I went there…no one was like me. The teachers and stuff, they were so
annoyin’ about it, refused to let me be near anyone for a long time. Not that I
wanted to be near anyone, but…” He shrugs, his brow furrowing in irritation.
“It’s like they think all the bad stuff that happens is gonna seep into
everyone else. I think the whole holy, purity stuff is bullshit, anyway, and
their constant shovin’ of it down my throat made me believe it even less, go
figure.” He’s going to take full advantage of this no-one-listening thing, he
sure is.
“Let me guess,” Arashi says, stroking through Mika’s hair with one hand. “They
took it a lot more seriously than they did in the Capital. The priests talk,
but it’s sort of a joke. No one really cares about it, they just say the words
to make the priests happy and then go about their way, unless they’re like,
trying to get the ear of the King. Were your Academy masters...what did they
say about the King, by the way?”
“That he’s so brave, and strong, and smart, and passionate…” Mika drawls, his
eyes rolling. “And he jus’ wants what’s best for us, that’s why we’re all here,
obviously. Ahh, it’s the worst. If it weren’t for my master, though I’d be
stuck in the capital. The king wanted me ‘cuz I’m…nnn…” Mika waves a hand,
searching for the word, and failing. “Like I said, there’s not a lot of ‘em
like me in there. Most of the wizards from the South…they’re not the kind from
the Sandlands, they’re the kind from the farms.”
Arashi tries to process that, and frowns, stuck on some of the word choice.
“Hmm...what did the king want you for, darling? I mean, obviously you’re
beautiful, but from everything I’ve heard, our King has rather...specialized
tastes, and you aren’t to them.” Specifically, the king has a taste for little
girls in twintails, but no one talks about that if they want to keep their
head.
“Oh. Heh. No, the King didn’t want me like that. One of his big-name court
advisors liked me like that, which…really brought it up in the first place, I
guess? But the real reason—what’s the word…kritanta, ah, dead things.” Mika
hesitates. “Necromancy, that’s it.” Things he doesn’t explicitly talk about,
even to Arashi, to the point that the word has slipped away. For how close they
are, it’s always been better that Arashi knew relatively little about what
could get them both in a hell of a lot of trouble. “It’s forbidden. But I’m the
first one that could do it in forty-something years.”
Arashi gives Mika a hefty squeeze. “First of all, you’re absolutely never
leaving my side in the Sandlands,” he says frankly. “If those Southerners talk
like you, I’m going to get ripped off all the damn time. Someone’s got to be
able to negotiate with them. Hmm...Ah, you’re probably going to think I’m
stupid, but I thought that when wizards bloomed, they just manifested some
weird thing that killed a bunch of people, are you saying those are powers that
the wizard actually keeps? Yours were....” A shiver runs down his spine. He
doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t really need to.
“Mmmhm.” Mika’s eyes lid, and he kicks his feet a little, squirming in Arashi’s
hold. “Most Southerners can speak the common tongue, but they’ll pretend they
can’t to fuck with you,” he bluntly says. “But yeah, those little ghosties,
those are miiine. From all the people that died within a certain radius, during
a certain time…heh. You’re not supposed to know about that, but no one’s
listenin’ right now, so I can talk about anythin’.” He tongue sticks out a
little as he thinks. “There’s a lot more to it than that, but I’m not gonna
like…demonstrate.”
“Mm, no, please do not,” Arashi says quickly. “You can keep your, ah, lil’
ghosties. Too scary for me, I’d rather face real people that I can kill.”
The words sink in, and he realizes a few things. “So,” he says slowly, trying
to piece it all together, “The king and his warmakers want you to wreak havoc
with your, ah, ghosties, but it’s scary and bad so you don’t want to, and
they’d do it anyway, except this Demon King guy is threatening and scary and he
loves your Master, and Shu is silly and hyperbolic but everyone is scared to go
against him because that might piss the Demon King off, right? So, they let you
pretty much do what you like, more than other wizards, at least, because if you
go rogue it’s scary, but if anything happens to you, it’s potentially really
scary for everyone else, right? Ugh, politics is confusing, this is why I just
hit things with swords.”
“Yeah, basically. ‘Cept you forgot the part where my master’s real scary, too,
so it’s even worse.” Mika looks all sorts of pleased about this. “No one wants
to make the King of Demons mad, buuut…no one wants to make Master mad, either.
Y’know, kara,” he murmurs, nuzzling up underneath Arashi’s chin, “he stays
‘cause he likes you, kinda, even if he won’t say it. At least, it’s a lot
easier jus’ stayin’ put and eatin’ honey rolls than runnin’ off with the King
of Demons, but he won’t admit that.”
Arashi blinks. “First, I’m confused that he likes me. I mean, I guess I knew he
doesn’t hate me, or I’d be dead...is he scarier than other wizards? I just know
that you don’t piss him off, but I thought that was all of them, aren’t they
all like that?”
Out of habit, he almost pushes Mika away, desperate to regain control before he
dies, but apparently, he can do that for the moment. Well. Nice.
“Ah, nah, Master and I are the different ones,” Mika cheerfully says. “I bet
they told you all wizards were like him because they didn’t want you to fuck
up, huh? I mean, I guess that’s fair, pissin’ him off makes things explode
pretty quick, and a big part of my magic—well, it’s not somethin’ they can
train all that well, whoops. Nnh, pet me, your hands feel good, I miss being
naked all the time.” 
“You must have been the worst child,” Arashi says fondly, nuzzling into Mika’s
hair, obligingly petting his chest, his shoulders, his thighs, reveling in the
fact that he can, even if just for a night. It’s something he’d never thought
he’d get to do, and a smile hovers around his lips, as if it’ll never leave.
“Hey, quick question...could I kill your lil ghosties? Just for my own personal
confidence.”
“Nope. They already dead, that’s why they’re so scary.” Mika purrs and
stretches like a cat, slinging a leg over Arashi’s hips. “I was a bad kid,” he
confirms with a smile. “But I’m still bad now.”
“Yep, you’re the worst,” Arashi confirms, rolling over onto his back, reaching
up to drag Mika on top of himself with an easy smile. “What would you have done
if we’d been caught, hmm? And the hunters came for me?”
Mika pauses, tilting his head to the side as he sits back onto Arashi’s thighs,
hands on Arashi’s chest. “Killed them,” he says simply, reaching up to push the
heavy fall of his long, feathery hair off his shoulders and down his back
instead. “All of ‘em.”
“Scary,” Arashi says. He keeps his voice light, but the tone of his voice is
anything but joking. “And keep killing when they send more, and more? Gods,
Mika, amaka...you must really love me, huh?”
“I’d kill everyone in the whole world, then we’d be the only ones left.” Mika
hesitates, biting his lip, his fingers absently running along the curve of
Arashi’s jaw. “I thought it would be really scary to think like that,” he
quietly says. “Turns out, you kissin’ me kinda…makes that part of my brain shut
up.”
“Maybe it was bad that I kissed you,” Arashi says softly. “Don’t be mad about
me saying that. I just mean it’s going to be so much harder to go back to not
kissing you, after tonight.”
“Mm, nah. Now I have something to look forward to.” Mika slowly flops down,
sighing contently at how warm and comfortable Arashi is to lie on top of. “I
mean, if that snake doesn’t go through with his promise, I’ll definitely kill
‘im, but if he does…then we can be together just fine, right? Mmn, I’ve never
met the prince, have you? I hope he’s really that good…”
“He’s a good kid,” Arashi admits, dragging his hands down Mika’s back, feeling
the bones peeking out of his ribcage. He’s got to get the camp cooks to feed
this boy more. “I’ve met him a few times, and seen him more. I’d say he has a
good heart, as a judge of people, and Izumi seems really willing to die for
him. I don’t know anyone that would die for the king like that, you know?
But...mm, you know that only happens after the king dies, if it happens. And
he’s barely forty.”
“He’s gonna die soon, though. I can tell.”
“That is so creepy,” Arashi says, and presses a huge kiss to Mika’s temple.
“And adorable. How is a battlefield the place where you want to be if you can
tell things like that?”
“You’re there,” Mika answers without skipping a beat. “And you’re only good at
swords, so I ain’t got a choice. I gotta keep checking on you to make sure
you’re not gonna die soon, or else.”
“Um....oh.” That’s not entirely reassuring. “Is there...I mean, is there
anything you can do, if it does look like I’m going to die soon?”
“Oh, I’ve done stuff before.” Mika smiles, butting his head underneath Arashi’s
chin. “But you didn’t notice, so that’s good. Academy can’t say nothin’ about
it, either, ‘cause you’re the one in charge of me, so I’m jus’ being good and
protectin’ you, obviously.”
A bigger chill goes down Arashi’s spine this time, and his fingers itch to get
onto the hilt of his sword. That is, as everyone seems determined to point out
today, what he’s good at. “Maybe that’s enough talking,” he says hesitantly,
thinking of all the times he’d been heading out only for Mika to decide on a
whim to come with him, and grabs a blanket, throwing it over both of them,
dragging them into darkness. “Mm, that’s nicer, right?”
Mika sighs deeply in relief, closing his eyes gratefully for a moment. His
vision is abysmally poor in the dark, but even dim light makes him strain to
see properly, so seeing nothing at all is almost a blessing. “Yeah, that’s
nice,” he murmurs, burying his face into Arashi’s neck. “Nn. Last thing. If you
ever need to know…y’know, stuff like that, you can ask. I’ll tell you, about
anyone you wanna know.”
“Tempting,” Arashi admits, and because he’s a swordsman and a soldier at heart,
he doesn’t reject the suggestion. Never throw away a tool you could use to keep
yourself alive, after all. “I’ll try not to, but...does it hurt you? To see
who’s going to die?”
That’s a weird question to answer, and Mika shifts, thinking. “Not…really? I
mean, no more than lookin’ at anything normal. I see it everywhere. It’s there
whether or not I wanna see it.”
“What does it look like? Is it something you can describe to a normal human,
even a really boring one who just hits things with a sword?”
“Like an hourglass. Every person is an hourglass.” Mika hesitates. “Usually.
Ah, you’re not boring, you’re sexy.”
“But you can, what, reset the hourglass? Ahhh, my head hurts, all I wanted to
do today is tell you we’re going south and now I’ve ruined everything and found
out you can see how long until I die, this is crazy...kiss me, make me feel
better,” Arashi says with a huff, parting his thighs to let Mika lie between
them.
“Sorry,” Mika says, not sounding all that apologetic at all, and he immediately
squirms into place. “Don’t worry, kara. Every time y’kiss me, you live longer,”
he cheerfully says, his fingers tiptoeing down Arashi’s thigh. “I don’t think
y’ruined anythin’, either.”
“Unless that sniffer was lying,” Arashi says softly. He reaches up and brushes
the hair from Mika’s face, pulling him close enough for a kiss right on the
mouth. “Or unless he was wrong about no one else being able to hear. I...you’re
worth going to hell for, amaka. I believe that. So if it happens...” Arashi
shrugs, helpless. “This dumb soldier thought it was worth it.”
“He wasn’t wrong. It’s still quiet. Ahh, it’s nice, Master must be so happy,
too…”
Mika drags his hands back through Arashi’s hair, sighing as he kisses him
again, gently scraping his lower lip with his teeth. “You should keep him,” he
mutters. “Make him come south with us, yeah.”
For a kiss like that, I’d do anything, Arashi thinks, letting his hands drag
down Mika’s back. With anyone else, feeling as he does, he’d have them on their
back by now. With Mika...the time feels almost too precious to squander, a gift
he never thought he’d be given. “Can’t make him do anything,” he admits. “He
doesn’t answer to me. And even if he did, there’s too many sniffers down South.
Let’s just make the most of our time, hmm?”
“But if he blocks them, then it doesn’t matter how many there are,” Mika
complains, shivering, arching underneath the petting of Arashi’s hands. “Maybe
if you pay him? Heeh, it’s like I’m expensive all over again~…”
Rather than pursue that line of questioning, because like hell if Arashi knows
anything about magic and sniffers and whatever, he turns his focus to how nice
Mika’s naked ass feels in his hands. “You were expensive, hmm?” he teases,
because obviously Mika doesn’t mind talking about it. “How much would it cost
me, for one night with you?”
Mika shudders, the reaction far more visceral than he thought it would be—both
to the question, and to Arashi’s hands squeezing him. “…More than what you paid
for one of those fancy Northern horses,” he answers, toying with the laces of
Arashi’s breeches until they start unraveling in his touch. “Nn, and that
wouldn’t’ve even been a night, that would just be an hour, maybe two…”
For a poor child? Then why did your mother need to sell your eye?
 But maybe this is a fantasy of Mika’s, and it’s fun, so Arashi plays along,
lifting his hips to help Mika get at his prize. “Well, there’s lots of fun we
could have in an hour, hmm? What’s your specialty, darling, what would you do
to melt my mind?”
“I mean, I’m good at everythin’,” Mika hums, and his fingers eagerly drag
Arashi’s breeches down, discarding them swiftly. “But, hmm…lemme see if this
still works, heh.”
His thigh drags up between Arashi’s legs, rubbing against his cock as his mouth
fastens first to Arashi’s neck, gently biting, sucking, then up to his ear,
where his tongue flicks out to run along the edge of it.
Arashi feels his cock lurch suddenly to life, going from ‘somewhat interested’
to ‘ready for action’ in less than a second, all because of Mika’s tongue
caressing, stroking, oddly intimate in his ear, of all places. His mouth falls
open, and a high whine comes out, sounding totally unlike him, hips rutting up
against Mika’s thigh in a sudden desperate thrust. “S-shit, do that again if
you want me to come immediately,” he groans, throwing an arm over his face.
It’s hard not being smug about something like this. Who else could reduce their
strong, brave captain to someone squirming and whining? No one, Mika
possessively thinks, and his tongue goes to work, licking up the rim of
Arashi’s ear, his teeth gently catching against his earring before his tongue
wriggles all within the shell of it. His fingers idly slide up, thumbing over
Arashi’s nipples before slowly pinching one of them, pulling on it as his thigh
presses down, a slow, easy grind compared to the eager licking of his tongue.
Arashi, at least, can take some comfort in the fact that none of his previous
bed-partners would have believed it if they’d seen him act like this. He
somewhat prides himself in being playful, teasing, and a dominant force in bed,
always the first to act, the first to take care, ensuring everyone has a good
time and leaves happy.
Now, he feels as weak as a kitten, helplessly coming against Mika’s thigh when
it feels like they’ve barely started, his body taken apart by this skinny
awkward young man and his mismatched eyes, all because of the tip of a clever
tongue in his ear.
Mika giggles against Arashi’s ear, another playful, teasing lick to the lobe of
Arashi’s ear following as one of his hands slides down, dragging over the mess
now between them. “So easy,kara,” he teases, pulling his hand up to his mouth
to suck his fingers clean with a delighted little shiver. “Mmnn, but now you
get it, why I was expensive.”
“I thought you wouldn’t like talking about it,” Arashi breathes, eyes glazed
with pleasure, shivers going through him down to his toes. “What the...how did
you know about that ear thing? What even is that?”
“I don’t mind. Heh, it’s just you, that’s what your body wants,” Mika says,
amused, sitting back a bit to watch how Arashi keeps shivering, even now. “I
can tell. I dunno how, or why, but that’s where your body tells me to touch.
Pretty neat, huh?”
“You’re saying you’re good at touching me because of magic?” Arashi laughs,
grabbing up at Mika’s neck, pulling him down for another kiss. “Nn, you turned
me into a pile of goo, this is stupid...I’m usually not the kind of guy that
just lays here and lets other people take care of me!”
“Well, that’s stupid,” Mika huffs, laughing as he’s kissed and squirming up to
better take advantage of Arashi’s mouth, kissing him again. “I mean, you take
care of me all th’ time, you should let me return the favor. Ahh, I mean, I
still really want y’t’break me in half, but…”
“Eh? Break you in half?” Arashi blinks. “What...I’d never hurt you, darling.
You know that, right? I’d rather die before hurting you...”
Mika grabs his face in both hands, squeezing it gently. “I mean, fuck me until
I can’t walk th’ next day,” he says without batting an eye. “I think about it
all the time.”
That’s all it takes for Arashi to move, flipping Mika onto his back, settling
between his legs. “Tell me,” he breathes, “down South, do they only have boys
that get on their backs? Or can you hire a man to bend you over something, too?
Get your legs around me, amaka, I want you to love this.”
Mika’s pulse jumps abruptly, reminded, suddenly, of how hard his own cock is.
He writhes with a whimper, squirming to do as he’s told, his long, thin legs
trembling as they squeeze around Arashi’s hips. “Y’can hire a man to do
anythin’ to you,” he groans, his head rolling back as his nails immediately dig
their way into Arashi’s back. “It’s you, of course I’m gonna love it…”
You can’t hire a man to love you like I do.
 Arashi hopes he says as much with his mouth, kissing Mika deeply as he leans
down, moving to his neck, pressing lingering, sucking kisses there like an
idiot, like someone in love with a plain country boy who doesn’t mind if he
leaves marks. “We’re in the North, you can wear a scarf,” he mutters, and grabs
at his breeches, pulling off one of his belt pouches and tipping out a small
vial of oil. “You want me to do it, darling? Or you want to do it in a way you
like it?”
“Want you to do it.” Mika shivers down to his toes, automatically arching his
back, his legs splaying wider to make it easier for Arashi’s hand to reach
between them. His neck throbs where Arashi sucked on it, and his fingers
absently lift to drag over one of the marks, groaning at the sting of it as he
lets his head fall back. “Gonna die if y’aren’t in me soon, I mean it…”
With every touch, Arashi can’t quite convince himself that this is real, that
this is happening, that he isn’t about to be flayed alive.My skin is too pretty
to be anywhere but on my body, thanks, he thinks, embarrassed when his hand is
unsteady and nearly tips out the whole vial onto his fingers. Mika is so hot
and sweet to the touch, moving with him so beautifully when he slides in two
fingers, stroking and touching in a way he prays feels good. Usually, he’s
confident about his skills in bed. With someone he cares about so much, it’s
another story. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathes, pulling back just far enough
to watch every gorgeous reaction, every fluttering breath, every tensing sigh
on Mika’s face. He needs the time to get hard again anyway, so he strokes
slowly, curling and twisting his fingers, letting his other hand drag up over
Mika’s nipples.
“Ahhh, f-fuck…” The curse helplessly leaves Mika’s lips, and he swallows hard,
his mouth parting as he rocks down against Arashi’s hand. The shudder that runs
through him makes even his hands clench into fists, weakly thunking one against
Arashi’s back before he drags them up into Arashi’s hair, pulling slowly. It’s
tense, and reminding himself exactly how to relax and move after so long
without another person touching him… “They f-feel…as good as I thought they
would,” Mika sighs, his eyes shut, content to bask in the feeling of Arashi’s
fingers stroking inside of him. “I want you t’do this all the time.”
Now isn’t the time to argue about what they can do and when. Arashi isn’t sure
he’d be able to anyway, not with Mika clinging to him like that, sweet and
urgent and pulling on his hair. “Been a long time, hmm?” he asks softly,
pressing a kiss to Mika’s temple. “It’s all right, amaka, I’ll go slow, don’t
rush yourself--I love doing this, you sound so good, I know just where to touch
you, hmm? Let me take care of you, I’ve got you...”
It’s probably the most in-control of himself he’s felt since meeting Mika, as
if he were always meant to do this.
Mika whines, turning his head to try and get his mouth on Arashi’s—misses, ends
up sucking on his neck instead, huffing out a hot, wet breath through his nose.
It feels good enough that his eyes glaze over, blurring what’s left of his
vision, anyway, and that’s a comfort when he knows it’s Arashi bent over him,
warm and solid and gorgeous. “Y-yeah, yeah, you’re doin’ it perfectly,” he
moans, his head flopping back off the stone, hair puddling onto the floor
behind him. His nails scrape along Arashi’s scalp as he slowly grinds his hips
down, nearly wincing at how good it feels, achy and overwhelming after so long.
His cock twitches between his legs, hard enough to leak at the tip, but he
ignores it. Not yet.
Arashi reaches down to cup himself, finds that he’s nearly ready to go again,
and his eyes light up with relief. “That’s good, you’re so good, let me
just...ahhh, I love touching you, this is better than anything,” he mutters,
licking his lips when Mika kisses his neck. He’s not always fond of that sort
of thing, but with Mika, it’s hard to think of anything he wouldn’t do.
That thought sobers him slightly, and he leans down, resting his forehead
against Mika’s, the way he has so many times when they’d not dared to kiss.
“I’d do anything you wanted,” he whispers. “It doesn’t have to be this way
because of our status or your history or whatever. You can have me, if you
want.” The thought gives him a slight tremor of nerves, but it’s not the
disgust and fear he feels when thinking about doing that with anyone else.
Mka’s eyes flutter at that, cracking them open to peer up at Arashi. “Mm. I
know,” he says with a little grin, and lurches up to steal another kiss from
Arashi’s mouth, both of his arms wrapping tightly around Arashi’s neck to pull
him down. “But—you feel so good like this, kara,” he sighs, wriggling down
against Arashi’s hand with a pleased little whimper. “Next time—mmn, next time,
‘cause there’s gonna be a next time, okay?”
That’s enough to absolve Arashi, and he nods, giving Mika a firm kiss in
return, then finally sliding out his hand, guiding himself to press his cock
against that slick, inviting hole instead. “There’s got to,” he says softly.
“And if there isn’t, I hope I’ll die this time. Uh...that was supposed to sound
romantic, not weird.”
“It’s r-really romantic, trust me,” Mika breathlessly reassures him, pawing
eagerly at Arashi’s back. “Ahh…you don’t…you don’t have to be gentle, I mean
it, please, I wanna feel it tomorrow and think about you th’ whole tiiiime…”
If there’s a man alive who could turn that down, it isn’t Captain Arashi of the
Sharps.
He thrusts in, and lets out a low, ragged groan when he’s engulfed by searing
heat. It feels different than anyone else he’s been with, he’s sure, enough
that he has to gulp for breath, even feeling tears prick his eyes when he’s
buried all the way inside. “That’s--am I hurting you, are you-do you like it?”
he asks, helplessly aroused, so hard he feels himself throb and ache inside
Mika. “Gods, please tell me you like it...”
The noise Mika makes is high and breathy, ragged in his throat when Arashi
sinks entirely inside. Words trip over themselves in his mind, so he just nods,
frantic, needy, and his thighs tremble as they clamp to Arashi’s waist,
clinging to him as much as his hands are, fisted up into the ends of Arashi’s
hair.
Arashi is thrumming, warm and strong and alive, and Mika whimpers, feeling his
back arch as if he’s pulled towards that heat alone. He’s slick around Arashi’s
cock, squeezing and tense, but it feels good, making his skin prickle and flush
with every tiny shift of their hips. If he could have plucked something
straight out of his fantasies, it would be this. To be taken on his back on a
warming stone in the North, while it’s snowing outside and Arashi is doting on
him in every way… “Perfect,” he mumbles, fumbling for more words, failing, and
so he just huffs, his head flopping back again, letting the eager cant of his
hips say more.
That one word goes straight to Arashi’s heart. To be on Mika, to be touching
and making love to him and hear perfect in return...that’s better than anything
he could have imagined. The stone is hot against his knees, and he rocks in
deep, pressing sucking kisses against Mika’s neck, up to his ear (it had worked
on him), down to his chest, touching every inch of him as if he can somehow
make a mark on him this way, somehow claim him this way, somehow really make
Mika his.
If those words mean what Mika says they do, Arashi finally understands them. He
rocks in deep, kisses Mika’s cheek, and whispers, “Welcome home, amaka.”
Mika melts.
He feels himself dissolve with a sob, covering his mouth with one hand to
stifle the sound. It doesn’t work, not when the floodgates finally open. It’s
too much, all of it—Arashi inside of him, taking him more sweetly than Mika
ever imagined someone could, petting him and kissing him and saying things like
that…
Mika’s chest heaves, and the trembling overstimulation that rakes through him
leaves him barely able to even cling to Arashi’s back. His body seems intent on
milking out that pleasure, squeezing and grinding down, and at some point, he
feels how wet and sticky his own stomach is, only then realizing how lost he
really is. “Kara,” he whimpers, and it’s the last word Arashi probably
understands as he just gives up, mumbling his praises in his mother tongue as
he clings to whatever part of Arashi that he can.
It doesn’t feel as much like Arashi comes as it feels like he dissolves,
slumped over onto Mika’s body, panting into his neck, buried deep inside him.
It isn’t usually this fast, when he’s buried in a man’s ass, but Mika has
always been desperately different, different on every level. “You’re perfect,”
he whispers, and is surprised to hear his voice choke up, tears in his eyes. “I
love you so much, darling, sweetheart, I’m never letting you go, you hear me?
We’ll just...”
He breathes in, a slow, shuddering breath, burying his face in Mika’s shoulder.
Eventually, Mika comes back down to reality. His face is wet, so is his neck
and shoulder, where Arashi’s face is pressed, and his body sings as much as it
aches, trembling in the most pleasant way he’s ever felt. “You’re perfect,” he
mumbles, slowly curling his arms around Arashi’s back, squeezing tightly.
“Don’t…don’t pull out, stay in me, stay with me…”
“You’ve got me, darling, I’m yours forever,” Arashi promises, even if it’s
stupid, even if it’s nothing he can promise. He’s always overpromised, then
tried to step up to it later, and this is no different. For Mika, he’d promise
the moon. “Do you want the moon?” he asks quietly. “I’ll go up and get it.”
“Nnn…no, you’d have t’go too far away.” Mika buries his face into Arashi’s
shoulder. “When you have to leave later,” he murmurs, “jus’ bring me back some
candy. Close ‘nough, really.”
“Your teeth are going to rot out of your head,” Arashi teases. “Then you won’t
be able to bite my ear.”
“That’s okay. I’ll jus’ lick it instead.”
“...You know, fair enough.”
***** Chapter 9 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
Mika kisses Arashi, and doesn’t think much of it.
That’s the risk they’re going to run, now that Mao is gone (scarcely for a few
hours, but still), now that they’ve touched and kissed and made love. Reflex
makes him want to be closer, instinct makes him want to stay latched to
Arashi’s arm, and the struggle of remembering that he’s not supposed to makes
him frustrated and angry.
But he feels he sharp burst of magic—a distinctive signature that he can’t
ignore—and that makes him scared, more than both of those things.
Stumbling his way back to Shu’s tent in the encampment makes Mika feel all of
those nerves he’d been so happy to forget about over the past day, and he
huddles down into his robes, down into the scarf tightly wound about his neck,
trembling when he slowly pokes his head in. “M…master?” he quietly greets. “I…”
Does he start by apologizing? He’s not even sure.
Mika is the last person Shu wants to see right now.
Rather, he’s the last person Shu wants to see him, curled up next to a puddle
of his own vomit, shaking and pale, with a blanket draped over him. His head
pounds, every beat of his pulse like thunder that could shake a castle to its
foundation, and he gasps, looking for water and not finding it. Every part of
him feels ill--and it should, he reminds himself, which makes a fresh flood of
sweat break out all over his body. “Water,” he croaks, eyes shut tight, stomach
lurching again until he loses what’s left of his stomach without even being
able to stand up.
At least Mika has seen him after having to kill with his mind before. It just
doesn’t make Shu feel any better.
Mika wordlessly bolts into the tent, grabbing for the pitcher of water and
pouring a cup of it with shaky hands. “Master…master, come here, y…y’should lie
down,” he whispers, gingerly crouching next to him and offering him the cup of
water first. “C’mon, I’ll take care of you.” He doesn’t want to ask what’s
wrong, what happened. The dread, the panic that sinks slowly into his stomach
tells him everything.
Shu lets Mika take care of him, pouring the water down his throat. It helps him
at least feel less like he’s already died, even if his vision still swims and
his stomach churns. “Mika...I need to ask you something. Please.” He so rarely
uses the word that he’s been asked before if he knows it, but it’s important
now.
“Mm. Anything you want.” Mika slowly, carefully pulls Shu to his feet,
balancing most of the larger man’s weight onto him. He wobbles underneath it,
but at least it’s only a short few strides to Shu’s bed, though dumping him
down onto it is a less than graceful maneuver.
Shu immediately curls onto his side, protectively around the glass of water,
“Don’t make me do that again,” he says, voice shaking. “I’ll do it a thousand
times if I have to, but...it’s wrong. And it’s awful.”
Hearing what he already knew confirmed makes that pit in his stomach grow. Mika
swallows, nods, and slowly flops onto the floor next to the small bed, folding
himself up, chin on his knees. “I…I won’t,” he whispers, blinking hard, his
eyes wet. “I’m…I wasn’t thinkin’. I jus’…I c-couldn’t help myself, it’s so
hard, Master.”
“I know.” Shu reaches out a shaking hand, patting Mika’s head. “I know, I know,
gods, I know.” His eyes water freely, making his face bleary, how atrocious.
“I’ve been fortunate.” Every word feels like gravel in his throat. “I don’t
have the temptation you do, being close. But...”
His stomach lurches again, and he clenches his teeth, squeezes his eyes shut,
trying to stop himself from vomiting again. “The one who heard you. A serving
girl. The reward--she could have fed her family for a year, don’t underestimate
that.”
But I don’t care about her. Saying that out loud won’t help anything, so Mika
doesn’t. She doesn’t care about me, she doesn’t care about my happiness, why
should I care about hers?
 He nods anyway, tilting his head forward so that Shu can pat it, huffing out a
wet breath. “I messed up,” he whispers instead. “I messed up real bad, Master.
T…the man that was here from the Academy, Mao? H…he….he’s workin’ for the king
of Demons, and he…he silenced everything around this estate, so the Captain and
I, we…”
“Yes.” Shu rubs the bridge of his nose, tousling Mika’s hair so it’s properly
messed up. “If you think that just because my lord had a magic sniffer around I
couldn’t hear you, you’ve drastically underestimated me, to your peril.”
“I didn’t know if y’were payin’ attention or not,” Mika admits with a wet
little laugh, burying his face down into his knees. “I’m s-sorry, Master, I
couldn’t stop. I swear I didn’t mean to make y’have to hurt anyone, I swear,
I…” His shoulders shake as he sucks in a sharp, unsteady breath. “I won’t…I
won’t do it again.”
“Please.” Shu’s mouth twists unhappily. “Things would have gone spectacularly
pear-shaped if I hadn’t, don’t you think? I acted on instinct. It was very
clear to me that if you two were caught, you wouldn’t simply allow him to be
executed. I’m right, I know I’m right. That means you would have killed more
people--many more--and they would have sent the other Nightcloaks after you. I
can’t fight them all. Even if my lord came, the two of us can’t take on the
other three, not if the High Emperor joined in.”
Mika shivers at the mention of that name, his fingers curling around his own
ankles, nails biting into the flesh. “I know,” he murmurs. “I know. I…at that
point, I probably would’ve jus’…” Made sure both Arashi and I died before
anyone else had any say in it.
The thought makes him tremble anew, and he pulls the hood of his cloak over his
head, burrowing down into it. “I’m not gonna do it again.”
“Stop that, put your hood down so I can pet you,” Shu admonishes, firmly
patting Mika’s head. “All I’ll ask you to do is send that woman’s family a
pittance. Get it from the Captain if you must. It’s done, there’s no use
wringing our hands about it.”
“Don’t wanna.” Mika pulls his hood down marginally, but only enough for Shu to
get to the top of his head. “I don’t wanna tell Arashi. He’d…he’d be real
upset.”
“All the more reason to tell him,” Shu says, as gently as he can when he’s so
exhausted and ill. “He’s the other half of that kiss, isn’t he? One of you has
to be trusted to make good decisions, and right now neither of you can.”
“Nnngh. Don’t wanna.” Mika turns his head, burying his face down into the side
of Shu’s bed. “He’ll think ’s his fault someone died. It’s not, it’s mine.”
“Oh? And who were you kissing?”
“He wouldn’t’ve if I hadn’t pushed it!” Mika snaps. Several of the candles in
the tent flutter out abruptly, and he shifts unhappily. “He would’ve…he
would’ve stayed away. It’s my fault, so I’m not lettin’ it happen again. That’s
how it is.”
Shu doesn’t flinch away from Mika’s surge of magic, but he does pet his head
again, brushing the hair into his eyes. “You’re a very troublesome creature,
you know. When I agreed to apprentice you, I never knew you’d cause me such
trauma.” His voice sounds far more weary than cross, and not a little
heartsick. He closes his eyes, reaching for the water again with trembling
fingers. “And ungrateful, you didn’t even thank me for saving your man’s life.”
“I’m sorry.” Mika’s voice is quiet again, huddling up behind the fall of his
hair. Without looking, he grabs the cup of water for Shu, pushing it over.
“Thank you. For savin’ him. Y…you won’t have to again, I promise.”
Shu sighs, turning his face away and burying it in the pillow. “I wasn’t even
going to tell you. I knew you’d feel awful.”
His fingers curl into fists, and he swallows hard. “It’s not forever. They’re
going to fix it.”
Slowly, after a long moment of hesitation, Mika slowly pulls himself up into
Shu’s bed, huddling up next to him, burying his face into his back. “D’you
believe that?” he whispers. “I really want to, but…I don’t know anythin’ about
the prince, and the snake hurts my eyes, and it’s scary.”
“I have to believe it.” Shu’s voice is almost a whisper, shaken and weak. He
exhales deeply, snuggling back into Mika’s embrace. This is familiar. This is
safe. This is not enough, but it’ll do for now. “Either way, it’ll change.
Because if this prince isn’t any better than the King...I don’t think my lord
will stay silent any longer, I really don’t.”
Mika’s eyes squeeze shut, and he curls all four of his limbs around Shu,
latching onto him. “Scary,” he mutters. “You’re his queen, he’s gonna take care
of you no matter what.” His lower lip wobbles, and he stuffs his face into
Shu’s hair again. “I don’t wanna die. I d-don’t want Arashi to die.”
“I know.” Shu reaches up, patting Mika’s hand. It’s so much easier to be strong
for someone else than for himself, always has been, and if he thinks too much
about Rei not being here, or how he’s never been able to have him the way Mika
has had Arashi, he’ll start feeling like there’s a hole in his chest again.
“Just have some self-control. You went without cock for ten years, do it for
another few. You said the King hasn’t got long to live, didn’t you?”
“Y-yeah, but…” Mika heaves a long, shaky sigh. “I wish I was there to speed it
up,” he mutters, his voice low and unhappy. “Maybe…maybe I should go to th’
capital, that might do it, I dunno…”
“Stop it.” Shu’s voice is firm. “You want to be in the Capital? With the High
Emperor? Mika, I can’t keep protecting you--if I have to do this again, for
whatever reason, they’ll say I’m...it’ll be like before.”
When they wouldn’t let me leave the Academy even on assignment. When they tried
to take my Nightcloak. When they said I was too dangerous to do anything but
sit in a bare room and stare at the wall.
 “I don’t want to. Jus’..jus’, if it might help, I…” Mika swallows hard, and
burrows hard against Shu’s back again, clinging to him. “I’m not goin’. I’m not
gonna leave you. But I…I gotta think about bein’ able to help, somehow.”
“Help by supporting the ones who can actually do something about it,” Shu says,
hoping he’s making the right decision. “And if you can’t handle being around
him without touching him, I’ll go back to the Academy with you and we can study
more.”
Mika says nothing for a moment, then heaves a long, shaky sigh. “Can’t do
that,” he mumbles wearily. “We’re goin’ South. I…I have to be good and help
him. Not like anyone else here speaks a lick of desert tongue.”
“Translators exist. Don’t be a martyr.”
“You ever met a translator from the Sandlands you can trust? Not bein’ a
martyr, I just wanna help.”
“Are all your people so untrustworthy? I’ve never been, but obviously you would
know best, which is worrisome.” Shu feels his eyes slide closed. Then he
remembers the crackle of the woman’s skin when she’d been immolated, and he
isn’t tired anymore, stomach flopping over. He groans, fingers pressing into
the mattress. “Just put a blanket over my face when you leave, I’m quite ill.”
Mika hesitates, slowly pushing himself up, gingerly running a hand down Shu’s
back. “D’you…is it th’ kinda sick that a healer can fix?” It probably isn’t,
but sometimes, Shu feeling like this turns to something that is. “I can make
the creepy snake come look at you. Otherwise, I’ll stay.”
Tears prick Shu’s eyes again, but he blinks them away. “You--don’t be foolish,
you’ve finally found someone you want to be around all the time, haven’t you?
Go to him, that’s what makes you happy.”
“Master, you’re dumb sometimes.”
Mika flops on top of him this time, intent on smothering him no matter his
sparse body weight and size. “’s not like I don’t love you,” he grumbles. “A
lot. Just, mm, you’re taken. Nothin’ someone like me can do about that.”
“I’m not taken as a friend or a mentor, idiot,” Shu says with a huff, not
objecting at all to be squashed. “And don’t bring up my lord so often, prying
ears are everywhere. He’s made it very clear that he wants to be forgotten by
most people.” He huffs again, just to make a point. “Don’t think that just
because I love you you’re excused from taking responsibility for your actions,
either.”
“You’re the one tryin’ to kick me out in the snow.” Mika burrows down against
him, ignoring his huffing. “I’m excused, you’re already lettin’ me cuddle you.
I dunno what lord you’re talkin’ about, I was just thinkin’ you like that snake
a lot, which is pretty gross.”
“Nonsense, he’s lovely,” Shu says, welcoming the change of subject when talking
about Rei makes his heart clench. “He couldn’t be that beautiful and be awful.
That’s the rule of the world, of course.”
“Snakes are pretty. Doesn’t mean they ain’t mean. Not like snogs, they jus’
sad.”
“As the loveliest creature in the camp, it’s quite ugly when you hold it over
the second-loveliest. Be respectful to Izumi, I find him very tolerable.”
Mika grumbles unhappily, shifting to make his hair drape all over Shu’s face as
a feathery, fluffy mess. “He’s bad, though. He doesn’t tell Arashi nothin’ and
they still did a blood pact and everything.”
“He’s a Northerner,” Shu says, as if that explains everything. “Honestly, he
doesn’t know anything. He’s an idiot, but hardly a schemer.”
“Double standard, that’s a double standard. You don’t let me get away with not
knowin’ nothin’.” Mika pouts. “I hope he melts in the South. He looks like an
icicle, anyway.”
“I’m not responsible for his brain,” Shu says, pretending he isn’t smiling as
he wraps himself around the pillow. “I’m responsible for yours. So you aren’t
allowed to feign stupidity when you’re quite intelligent. You being a fool
reflects on me, his will just get himself killed.”
“Nnnggh.” Mika’s head thunks against Shu’s. “Whatever. I don’t like ‘im. Nnn,
Master, before we leave, you gotta let me show you the warmin’ stones. Best
thing, they’re the best thing. You’ll feel better if you lay on one for awhile,
I bet.”
“What on earth is a warming stone? You’re the one who’s always cold,” Shu
murmurs, trying not to scold. “Ugh, I’m going to hate the Sandlands. First of
all, they sound hot. Second, I hate sand.”
“They’re th’ only good thing about the North, duh. And yeah, you’re gonna hate
the Sandlands,” Mika sympathetically agrees. “Especially ‘cause you’re
beautiful. They’re gonna want to touch you a lot.”
“What?” Shu asks, scandalized. “They’re not allowed to touch me, I’m--I’m a
wizard, how dare they presume?”
“Yeah, they don’t know nothin’ about that. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna let them,
but just know they want to.” Mika sounds amused. “You’re gonna sweat a lot in
your fancy robes, Master. Sorry.”
Shu’s eyes narrow. “What kind of touching are you talking about? What exactly
do I have to look forward to in this hellhole?”
For once, he turns around, facing Mika. “Tell me about the Sandlands. I don’t
care about them, but we are going.”
Mika hesitates, then lets his head tip forward, knocking his forehead gently
against Shu’s. “It’s hot,” he says, stating the obvious first. “And dry. Full
of merchants selling fake stuff. Like—even the meat’s fake. In the populated
areas, everyone looks pretty and healthy and there’s at least one brothel on
every street, because everyone’s havin’ a good time and partyin’, y’know? Ahh,
but…the further you get towards the desert itself…that all dries up. All the
people are desperate—hungry, poor, dyin’. Beggars everywhere. Lots of people
missing arms, legs, eyes…” He lifts a hand to tap at his cheek, underneath his
gold eye. “Because any money is good money, and nobles have weird taste.
Beautiful people get touched a lot ‘cause they’re beautiful. Like, hugged, or
kissed, little kids cling to your hands…you’ll hate it. Jus’ stay around me all
the time, and I can tell them off in desert tongue.”
“I suppose I don’t hate the way those odd foreign words sound in your mouth,”
Shu says, trying not to sound as if he really quite enjoys hearing those odd
lilting syllables on Mika’s tongue. “Ugh, I do dislike the idea of looking at
the disfigured, however. Did you have any progress with discovering a spell to
reattach or regrow those, by the way? Not that I’ll have the time, but if I
do....”
Mika makes a face, shaking his head. “Tryin’ to do somethin’ like that…’s
definitely outside of the stuff I know, y’know?” he wryly says, snuggling up
against Shu’s chest. “And I don’t think it’s good to keep lookin’ right before
we’re about to go down there. If you tried to fix someone and it worked, they’d
never stop botherin’ you.”
“But you said many of the people without limbs had them sold by their parents,
or someone else,” Shu says with a frown. “Surely if there’s a way, it’s our
duty.”
“When it’s a good third of th’ people down there…” Mika frowns, shrugging. “I
dunno. I’d rather do somethin’ to fix it before it happens. If you tried to fix
my eye now, I think I’d just be mad.”
“Well, it’s your charm point. You look good like that, I’d be horrified if you
changed.” Shu brushes the hair out of Mika’s eye, the motion fond. “But I
daresay it would be different if you were missing a leg.”
“I dunno. I’m not gonna speak for them, obviously, but—for a lot of people,
it’s probably their livelihood.” Mika sticks his tongue out before he shakes
his hair back into place. “That kinda stuff turns some people on, y’know.”
Shu stares at him for a very long moment. Then he starts to speak, as if he
knows what he’s talking about, and then realizes what Mika was talking about.
“Ah, y--oh. You’re speaking of prostitutes.”
“Yeah, Master. The South’s kinda all about that, just in case y’forgot.”
“I don’t understand,” Shu objects. “Who’s paying for all these prostitutes? It
doesn’t at all sound like a self-sustaining economy.”
“Soldiers. The king keeps routin’ armies down there ‘cause the crown owns most
of ‘em. Why d’you think we’re going there?”
“I...well, I presumed that the king thought the Captain’s soldiers would be
effective against the enemy in that quarter,” Shu mutters. “But I’m no
tactician, I’m a scholar. Why would the King send his largest mobile army to a
patch of sand just because there are armless prostitutes there?”
“I dunno, to make his money back?” Mika wearily replies. “Sorry, this is the
kinda stuff that all the whores talk about all the time, I can remember it even
now. King pays the soldiers, sends the soldiers south, gets all their wages
back when they drop it on fancy whores. Kara’s got a big army, ain’t no
surprise to me.”
“That...it doesn’t seem to make sense,” Shu muses, thinking it over, “but if
they’re otherwise going to be in the North or the East, enriching the folk who
own those estates, spending their coin on food and lodging and whores, and if
you can’t disband the army because it’s useful, but you don’t currently need
it...yes, that makes sense. It’s disgustingly vulgar, though. Oh, stop calling
him that while we’re down south. People know what it means there.”
Mika grumbles unhappily. “Yeah, I know. But I’m gonna call him that while we’re
still here, ‘cause I can. The king’s gross, ain’t none of this a surprise to
me. I just don’t wanna go, even if it’s warm there.”
Shu makes a face. “I dislike all of this,” he says frankly. “I will make myself
quite clear that no one who attends to me has any business visiting such
places. I’ll rely on you to identify the worst offenders.”
“Might wanna warn the whore snake about that before then.”
“Who? Oh. Don’t call him that, he’s my favorite.”
“Bleck.” Mika makes a face, then gives one of Shu’s sleeves a little tug. “Hey.
Can you teach me to make somethin’ that a lady would give her husband that’s
gone off to battle? I don’t know nothin’ about that, but…he calls me amaka now,
so I should.”
“I have no idea what that means, but it obviously makes you blush, so I can
guess.” Shu purses his lips, thinking. “What sort of lady? Highborn, low, from
where? In the East they give handkerchiefs with the names of their future
children embroidered on them, but in the Capital it’s a lock of one’s own hair
bound inside a locket, tied with a silk ribbon. I do believe that in the West
it’s a dried bit of herb sewn into a stocking. And the fishwives of the islands
knit a sweater out of thin wool in such fine stitches that they can hardly be
seen, so tough that even in a shipwreck the sailor will be identified by his
gurnsey. What kind of maiden would you care to be?”
Mika’s eyes glaze. “Master, you’re gonna have to help me out here. I just want
it to be cute.”
Shu throws up his hands. “How do Southern ladies do it? He’d probably find that
cute. But he’s from the West, isn’t he? So knit him a pair of stockings with
your initials knitted into them.”
At that idea, Mika brightens. “Okay! That would be cute, yeah, you’re right.
Master’s always got the best ideas.”
“Right. So, you’re going to have to learn to knit.”
“…Yeah, I dunno how t’do that. Teach me.”
For the first time in many minutes, Shu sits up, and drags his trunk closer,
pulling out several tiny needles and thin yarn. “Do try to follow along. I’ll
only do this once,” he lies.
Mika hums happily, sitting up next to him, cross-legged and content. “Okay,
Master. I’m watching.”
***** Chapter 10 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
In a very famous bar, in a very famous city, at the very southernmost tip of
the realm, a scribe drinks an ale.
Keito’s eyes flick around the little table he sits at, paying less attention to
his drink and more to his two mysterious drinking companions. One of them, he
has a passing acquaintance with. The man’s hair is bound up in a black scarf,
common for these parts, but his eyebrows are a bright orange, something that
stands out down here. His eyes, a startling green, would be more at home in the
snowy wastes of the North than they are down in the baking sands of the South.
The man is mysterious, but very cheerful, and an incredible hand with a longbow
judging from their first few meetings. Despite himself, Keito likes the man,
who insists on going by ‘Moon.’
The other man is new. Keito and Moon had found him in rather dire straits
earlier, and he’d seemed both clever and interesting, at least enough for Keito
to offer to buy him a drink at one of the few whoreless establishments in
Khadij. Three ales in, the man, who’d given his name as Koray, has the thick
black brows of a native Sandsman, and his poorly-bound hair looks to be long
and curly-dark as well. He could be local, Keito supposes, but his accent says
different. “So, stranger,” Keito offers, sitting back in his booth in a way
that he’d never do at home, never do without his face half-covered by his own
scarf. “You’re a pretty unlucky guy, passing out by the side of the road. Any
rogues could have found you.”
“Rogues did,” Moon pipes up. He clutches his own tankard of ale, though he
drinks from it sparingly, and Keito thinks he feels Moon kicking at the seat
under the table. “You were about to be sold for parts. Lucky we were already
chasing them, hmm? So does your good luck and bad luck cancel out? Wahaha!”
Koray, for his part, is delighted that the ale is strong tonight, and that his
company is interesting.
“Considering the end result, I think it’s nothing but good luck,” he hums,
starting on his fourth. Keito is a cute one—his mannerisms speak of repressed
maybe-noble, but definitely in service of noble—and the younger one, ‘Moon’, is
a charming splash of freshness in the desert, all bright eyes and glowing
personality. “Getting knocked over the head has never been more fun. This old
man really should’ve known better, trying to take care of men like that on his
own…”
“You don’t look a day over twenty,” Keito says flatly. He likes Koray already,
but that’s no reason to put up with nonsense. And speaking of nonsense--
“Unless he’s from a place where time doesn’t mean anything, like the bottom of
the ocean, or so high up on the Sharps that the air sinks,” Moon says
enthusiastically. “Yes, yes, that would do it! Hmm, but if you’re old, you
should stick with us. We’ll make sure you don’t get hurt again.”
“That’s the one,” Koray cheerfully agrees, not bothering to specify which one
he likes more. “Ahh, I’ve acquired protectors, thank goodness. My last pair—I
wonder where they went off to. They seemed to have a conflict of interest with
me in trying to stop those terrible men, so…I went after them, and lost my
protectors along the way.” He leans over, patting Keito’s shoulder. “See, this
is how you know I’m truly old. I need to be attended to.”
“For an old man, you seem to have a lot of strength left in your limbs,” Keito
says, unable to stop himself from smiling a little. “So. Moon told you a little
about what we do--”
“Slay the villains and rescue the innocent!”
“--more or less. Are you interested in joining? We could use a third, even if
you can’t do much. Someone to watch our backs would really help, and we don’t
know many people in Khadij.”
“You,” Koray says, pointing a long finger towards Moon, “are very cute. And so
are you,” he says, leaning to the side with the excuse of having had Some ale
to bump his shoulder against Keito’s this time. Ahh, I’m afraid I’m not
terribly useful…but I do know a number of people in Khadij! And, you see,
because I am so useless, most of the time, great caravans of villains don’t
assume I’m up to no good,” he wistfully says. “I suppose today was unlucky in
that respect. How long are you both in town?”
“A year,” Moon says with a big smile. “Well, I’ve been here a month, so I guess
a year minus a month. I’ve got plenty to do during the daytimes--”
“We don’t talk about what we do in the day,” Keito reminds him. “It’s safer
that way. We’re fighting some very dangerous people.”
“Right, right! Anyway, I’m free at sundown each day. And Specs over there only
seems to have something to do in the morning, so we run around a lot at night.”
Moon beams, eyes crinkling into little arches. “How about you, Koray? If you’re
around at night sometimes, we’d love to have someone else. Can you shoot a bow
if I teach you, or will your old bones just snap in two?”
That schedule alone tells Koray quite a bit. He takes a long sip from his ale,
all under the guise of thinking. Nobles, both of them, that was always obvious.
The younger one, though…those green eyes unnerve him when he watches him for
too long, how unfortunate. He really is charming, and so Koray dismisses his
reservations for now. The freckles help. No one else with those eyes has ever
once bothered with the sun. “I’m as brittle as anything, I’m afraid,” he laughs
off, flapping a hand. “But I am always around at night. The moon speaks to me.
Mm, do you mainly focus on slavers, or is anyone fair game?”
“We--”
“You have another target in mind?” Keito cuts in, thin eyebrows raised. “We
tend to focus on slavers due to...well. Certain circumstances, but also because
they’re so abundant down here.”
“Certain circumstances? You know,” Koray mildly says, “if you want someone to
join in and help you, you’ve got to be a bit more forthright. How do I know you
aren’t slavers attempting to whisk me away right now? Ah, I hope this ale isn’t
poisoned.”
Moon reaches over, eagerly taking a huge swig of of Koray’s ale and setting it
down. “Not poisoned,” he announces definitively. “We’re two men with good ideas
that met in odd circumstances, that’s for sure!”
“Moon was following a pretty whore around a corner when she was hit over the
head,” Keito says dryly.
“I wanted to talk to her, she dropped the flower she was selling!”
“I told you, that’s a common trick in the South when whores want people to
follow them into alleys.”
“I was new! What could I do but chase after her and save her?”
“Hmmm. If you’re new, then you absolutely need an experienced guide,” Koray
says, mourning the loss of his ale, but only somewhat. “Especially with the
slavers around here. They’re very aggressive. That little group you two ran
into that dumped me…I do believe they were just a fraction of the main fold.
Ah, but I haven’t had much time to do a great deal of looking into it,” he
dismisses, leaning back in his chair to better stretch out his legs. “That was
my mistake, what a waste.”
“That wasn’t the first group we took care of,” Keito says, frowning a bit at
the dismissive tone in Koray’s voice. “We’ve brought down five groups so far.
It might not be sweeping comprehensive reform, but fewer slavers is all to the
good.”
“You’ve brought them down? How can you tell?” Koray smiles at him, his head
tilting. “Do you kill all of them?”
Moon opens his mouth, but Keito holds up a hand. “Don’t answer that. We don’t
want to incriminate ourselves. This man could still be a spy.”
“I’m too old for that,” Koray complains, waving a hand. “But if you don’t want
to tell me, that’s fine. Do you know a lot of spies dumped on the side of the
road like a sack of potatoes?”
“Surely, the aim of a good spy is to ingratiate himself while looking natural,
in a situation in which a spy would theoretically never find himself.”
“It’s an easy fix,” Moon puts in. “Just have him come out with us tomorrow and
fire the first shot. If he’s working for the slavers--”
“The slavers aren’t all one group,” Keito snaps. “Any of them would love to put
an arrow through their competitors.”
“Twig arms, boy, remember?” Koray gently reminds Moon. “I won’t be firing any
shots. This would be the most interesting spying excursion I’ve ever heard
of—being accused of being a spy while bfailing to be a spy amongst a group of
slavers…ahh…I’m heartbroken, I’d love to help you, but if you can’t trust me,
then I suppose I can’t reveal the locations I do know of for typical trade-offs
and pickups.”
The bar’s heavily curtained doors swing open, and another pair of patrons
enter—though these, unlike various others that have come and gone since their
arrival, bring a bit of pause from the security. There’s a quiet, but no less
vehement argument before they’re both allowed inside, and Koray watches one of
them out of the corner of his eye.
Sir Arashi of the Sharps is unmistakable to his eye, even with his strength
subdued.
“If I get mistaken for a whore one more time, I’m going to scream,” his
companion hisses, low-voiced and frustrated. “Maybe I’ll cut my hair after all.
How long are we going to be in this terrible place again?”
“Until the King in his wisdom says that we’re moving to somewhere that makes
more sense,” Arashi says, waving a resigned hand. “More importantly, have you
seen my socks? Look, they have little cats in them!!” If he’s going to have
something so cute, and it’s going to be socks, and he’s going to have to wear
thick wool stockings in the desert, Izumi is going to goddamn appreciate them
no matter how many times he shows them off.
“Yeah, yeah, nice socks. The cat face is really cute.” The words are basically
a prayer at this point—a prayer to hope Arashi doesn’t box his ears for not
sounding enthusiastic enough. “Didn’t know you were engaged to a cat, though.
Buy me a drink.”
“It’s not like he can put his initials,” Arashi grumbles, waving a finger to a
delightfully uninterested serving girl. She has all her limbs, thankfully, as
well as a certain wary menace that reminds him of Izumi--or more specifically,
of someone who isn’t a whore being offered money to bend over something a dozen
times a day. “Cider for me, ale for him, darling. Now, Izumi, why do you think
they only think you’re a whore, but not me?” Not that it’s been bothering him
or anything.
“He gave one of the cats mismatched eyes, though. I guess—I mean, that’s
definitely cute.” It is, even he can’t deny it. Izumi purses his lips, chin in
hand. “I dunno. You just look like the kind of guy that would buy a whore.”
“What the hell do you mean by that?” Arashi demands. “I’m lovely! And Mika said
there are plenty of whores that you can pay to bend you over something too.”
“Yes, but…have you seen a single brothel like that?” Izumi mildly points out.
His ale is set in front of him, and he gratefully drags it close. “You’re
handsome, but you look like…well, someone that would have a whore on his arm.
That’s why walking around with you is a pain in the ass.”
Arashi’s face darkens, and he gives Izumi’s shoulder a shove. The mercurial
changes in his mood have been the stuff of fear among his men in the last few
weeks, usually marked by Arashi chewing on a piece of hard leather or something
to distract himself from the wizard’s tent. “What the hell about me looks like
I’d be buying a whore, huh?”
“You’re tall and handsome and clearly have money, but you look like you spend
all your time swinging a sword. Don’t make that face at me, you asked,” Izumi
snippily retorts. He leans back, taking a sip of his drink. “No one’s been
grabbing you constantly and asking how much you cost, so at least you’ve got
that. Everyone assuming you’re here to buy seems like a compliment.”
“But everyone assuming you’re for sale is a compliment, they think you’re
gorgeous and they want your time, right?” Arashi kicks at one of the legs of
the table, grumpy. “Thank the gods for this place, if I hear one more person
asking me if I’ve ever felt stumps on my prick I’m going to lose my mind. Why
do they think being legless is such a commodity?”
“It would be more of a compliment if they didn’t touch me constantly and get
pissed when I tell them ‘no’,” Izumi mutters. “I really don’t get the legless
thing. Or the armless thing, or…whatever else. I’ve never been so nervous in a
city that someone’s going to try and jump me and chop my leg off. I mean, I’d
kill them. But still.”
Arashi’s shoulders tense suddenly, though he tries not to let it show. “It
still wouldn’t be a good time,” he says mildly, then moves his foot, nudging it
against Izumi’s ankle. Carefully, he mouths, Someone’s watching us.
Izumi’s expression shifts to something exceptionally weary. So much for letting
himself get drunk enough to the point that Arashi has to carry him back to
their camp. “Do they deliberately give places like this shitty ale? Where was
that bar that gave out free shots of that stuff that makes you hallucinate if
you were beautiful enough?” Behind me, behind you, where, how many? “I’m
beautiful enough. I might even share with you, heh.”
Arashi trails his hand down Izumi’s arm, down to his hand with a little
flirtatious laugh. He traces a circle on Izumi’s palm, then taps the spot that
would be at 5 o’clock, three times. “How rude, are you saying I’m not beautiful
enough to get my own mind-melter? Ah, but the Captain should really be setting
a better example, hmm?”
“It’s not that you aren’t beautiful, Captain,” Izumi drawls, lifting his mug of
ale to fake taking a sip. “It’s that the only men they were handing those
drinks out to looked like women, and, well…” He doesn’t trust himself to drink
anything else now, how annoying. His eyes slowly slide in the direction that
Arashi has given him, and—
He nearly drops his mug.
“Shit,” Izumi mutters, shoving his drink away before he spills it on himself.
His heart thuds too-fast, his mouth suddenly dry, and he snatches his hand away
to brush his hair out of his face, trying to neatly fix his fly-aways as
casually as possible. He’s not still sunburnt, is he? Fuck, he better not be.
“You could be nice to me and take me there instead. Right now.”
“Of course, darling,” Arashi says, trying to sound cheerful and breezy. He
pulls out a couple of silver nobles and drops them on the table, then takes
Izumi by the hand, nearly yanking him out of the tavern so fast it probably
makes Izumi’s head spin. “What was it?” he asks lowly, when the heavy curtain
flutters shut. “Who? I thought I recognized the one with glasses, but the
others had their back to me.”
Izumi stumbles as if he’s drunk, his face hot, and he covers his mouth with one
shaky hand. “I…I don’t know who the tall one was, or the one with glasses,
but…” He spares a furtive glances back over his shoulder, clearly seconds from
leaping back into that bar. “I’d know those eyes anywhere,” he says dazedly.
“That was the prince, ah, I can tell by his laugh, too…”
Arashi stares at him, hand finally loosening from the hilt of the sword
fastened to his side. “And you ran away from him...why?” he finally demands.
“Isn’t he your lover?”
“He clearly was undercover if he was hiding his hair like that, what if me
going to him got him killed?” Izumi incredulously replies. “He wrote me and
told me he’d be in the South for a time, but—I expected he’d be with a proper
entourage, not in a bar like this, dressed like that. I don’t think either of
those other men had swords on them. Ahh, this makes me nervous,” he bemoans,
wiping a hand down his face. “Why is he out and about like this, what is he
doing…”
Arashi pets Izumi’s shoulder, looking back over his shoulder, mind racing.
“What’s he doing indeed?” he muses. “The one with the glasses--he works for the
Academy, unless I’m mistaken. I’ve seen him in passing, whenever I went to do
my courier duties.”
“I don’t like this. You can go back, I can’t, I have to keep an eye on him.”
“Have you thought about the fact that he probably doesn’t want anyone to keep
an eye on him?” Arashi asks mildly. “Clearly he’s doing something he doesn’t
want his entourage for, you know. Or, he’s out having fun for what must be the
first time in his life. Maybe he knows what he’s doing?”
Izumi sucks in a ragged breath, and grabs Arashi’s hands, squeezing firmly.
“Leo,” he bluntly begins, “has absolutely no idea what he’s doing at any given
point. Please understand that your prince has absolutely no head for battle or
protecting himself. And screw you, I have helped him have a lot of fun in his
lifetime.”
Arashi blinks slowly. “This is the guy we’re relying on to save us all you’re
talking about, right?”
“There is value in people that aren’t soldiers, you know. Ugh, I don’t have
time for this,” Izumi mutters, releasing Arashi’s hands. “I’m going to at least
make sure he gets in safely tonight, I can’t stand the idea of him running
around in a city like this alone.”
“But he’s not alone,” Arashi reminds Izumi. “What if you’re biting off more
than you can chew? That guy works for the Academy. And I don’t mean he’s a
wizard, I mean he’s a Holy Administrator, unless I’ve absolutely messed up his
face. You...you’re really sure the prince has the welfare of wizards at heart?
Because the Holy Administration is under the High Emperor, and they’re the ones
who make those rules.”
“Of course he does,” Izumi hisses, though now he has the urge to go in and
snatch Leo away and explain to him exactly why keeping that sort of company is
no good at all. “Maybe…maybe he doesn’t know. He probably doesn’t. He
doesn’t…pay attention to things like that all that much,” he admits wearily.
“All the more reason for me to stick around. Him being around someone like that
is worse than being alone. Ah, I wish I knew who the other man was. I hate
things like this.”
None of this sounds exactly promising to Arashi, and his eyes narrow. He moves,
grabbing Izumi by the arm, and pushes him up against the wall, faces very close
together now. “Have you ever even brought it up to him?” he demands. “I’ve
risked my life and the lives of a lot of people I like and trust on your word
that this shit is a priority for that guy in there, and now that he’s talking
to the enemy, you say he doesn’t know what he’s doing?”
Izumi’s mouth tightens, and he shoves back against Arashi, but it’s like
punching a brick wall, as per usual. Putting even a sliver of difference
between the two of them is impossible. “I’ve talked about it, in our
letters—but how can I explain the full situation when I haven’t seen him in
months? Do you think they teach princes about the injustices of the Academy?”
he lowly snaps. “He’s a good man. When he hears the kinds of injustices that
wizards go through, he will side with them. I don’t know why he’s talking to
someone from the Academy right now, but I’m sure there’s a reason for it—or
it’s completely random, but it’s not because he’s on their side.”His eyes
glitter, sharp and cold. “Don’t fucking doubt him again, or I’ll kill you
myself.”
Arashi’s eyes are no less dark, no less hard, as the side of him that usually
only the Inglings see comes out. “Don’t. Fuck. With. Me.”
His hand is tight on the hilt of his sword, and he steps back, tensed in a
battle stance. “If you want to duel, draw your sword. You know I’m right. And
you’ve been hiding so much from us it’s an act of charity I haven’t slit your
throat before now.”
Izumi’s heart thumps hard within his chest. His thoughts immediately swivel to
what he’s said around Shu—no, what he’s said to Shu when Mika is there, curled
up on a pile of pillows on the floor, never watching him, never acting even
remotely interested, but obviously listening to every word. It’s unsurprising
that every lick of it would come around to Arashi, but annoying is the stab of
hurt that Arashi chooses now to confront him about it, when for some reason he
wants to doubt Leo for…well, being Leo, by the sound of it.
“…If you’ve had something to say to me, you should’ve said it before now,”
Izumi stiffly replies, but his fingers are on the hilt of his sword
nevertheless. He doesn’t feel secure around Arashi when he’s like this if he’s
not holding onto it. “What, exactly, do you think I’ve been hiding?”
Arashi’s eyes dart around. There isn’t anyone visibly watching, but he takes a
step forward nonetheless, pitching his voice low. “You let me think a blood
pact would work on you. I’m not right to feel fucking betrayed about that?”
Izumi blinks back at him, startled, and his expression is one of honest
confusion. “I…what?” That’s not what he thought Arashi would say. “Wait, it
doesn’t? Since when?”
Arashi might be a lot of things, but he doesn’t think he’s a terrible judge of
people--and Izumi has never been a fantastic liar. His hand loosens on his
sword, and he breathes a sigh of relief. “Good. Gods. I thought if I confronted
you any other way you’d deny it. So it wasn’t a ploy? You didn’t know? I didn’t
want to believe it.”
“What? No, it wasn’t a ploy, I still don’t even know what you’re talking
about!” Izumi insists, holding his hands up in front of himself when Arashi
releases his sword. “Ritsu told me that I couldn’t ever spill a word and that
I’d die if I tried to. Do you really think I’d try to test that? I’m too young
and beautiful to die. Are you seriously saying it won’t affect me? Why? If this
is a test, I’m going to kick both you and Ritsu in the balls later.”
Arashi glares at him. “Mika told me that you’re not human. He can smell it on
you. He says it won’t bind you--or Ritsu, either. And just try to kick me in
the balls, remember what happened last time we sparred hand-to-hand?”
Izumi feels himself freeze up, and it has nothing to do with the memory of the
last time Arashi knocked him flat in five seconds. That’s more along the lines
of what he’d expected to come out of Arashi’s mouth, but… “I don’t want to talk
about this here.” He doesn’t want to talk about this at all.
Arashi nods shortly, and actually moves his hand off the hilt of his sword.
“Fine. Chase your prince. But I want some answers when you come back to camp--
about him and about you. That’s an order from your captain.”
Izumi says nothing. You’re going to hate me, he thinks, far more miserable
about that than he ever thought he could be. Maybe if he doesn’t tell Arashi
all of it…
But Mika will, and that’s worse.
“Fine,” he quietly says. “Whatever you want to know.”
Arashi nods slowly. “All right. I’m going back to camp to try and...I don’t
know. Keep the fights to a minimum. You’re due in my tent by dawn.”
“Fine.”
It’s no proper ‘yes, sir’, and Izumi knows it. He sucks in a slow breath before
pushing himself off the wall. “See you then.”
It’s not like Leo can stay in there much longer, right?
Except he does, and Izumi feels himself starting to doze off at his self-
imposed post, lurking around the side alley of the damned bar. At least next to
this bar, the likelihood of being propositioned is much lower, even if it means
waiting for another few hours for his prince to stop conversing with
questionable company.
The tall, black-haired man leaves first. He’s obviously a little drunk,
stumbling and laughing, and—the one Arashi had pointed out from the Academy
isn’t far behind. Black-hair grabs him by the arm, slings an arm around his
shoulder, and Izumi watches with irritation, counting down the seconds.
Until there’s Leo, and his heart stops beating for a moment.
Letters are all well and good. Izumi hates them, because he’s never been that
comfortable with putting down honest emotions onto paper. It’s easier to dance
around things in person, even though Leo in person…makes him stupid.
Izumi slips out of the alleyway once he checks the direction that Leo is
walking. If that Holy Administrator knows who Leo is, then he’s at fault times
twenty for letting Leo leave alone. But maybe he doesn’t know, and Leo doesn’t
know who he is, and gods, but that would take some of the stress of explanation
away later. Izumi refuses to think of that right now, though, not when he can
follow after Leo silently, taking a parallel alley to catch up to him before
cutting down another, and slipping up behind him with only a couple of paces to
spare. He reaches out, catches the stub of Leo’s ponytail that now escapes from
his headscarf, and pulls.
“Hey, princess, your hair is showing.”
It’s Izumi.
 Leo has no idea why his mind knows it so firmly, why he doesn’t have the
slightest doubt that the mysterious hand in the alleyway, the tug from behind,
the low voice affirming his secret identity, is his Izumi. But everything in
him, from his muscles to his nerves to every fiber of his brain, knows it so
well he turns, jumping into Izumi’s embrace, arms wrapped around his neck so
tightly they creak. “Wahahaha! It’s you, of course it’s you, you’re here, I
love you! Ahh--I love you, I love you!”
Relief floods so violently through his veins that Izumi’s knees nearly buckle.
Leo’s jump turns into Izumi simply grabbing him and scooping him up off of his
feet entirely, squeezing him tightly enough that he feels his own joints pop.
“Keep your voice down, you’re going to wake the whole city,” he lowly scolds,
but his expression is nothing but fond as he rips Leo’s scarf off to bury his
face down into his hair, breathing in deep. The simple, familiar scent of him
makes him wobble, and Izumi’s eyes suddenly sting when he blinks. “You’re going
to be the death of me, Milord,” he mumbles. “What are you doing in a place like
this?”
Leo’s arms are strong, always stronger than expected, and he can’t even respond
before he gets his mouth on Izumi’s, wrapping his legs around his waist just to
be closer, hot and urgent and needy, stealing kiss after kiss before he can
breathe again. “What am I doing? Dying without you, obviously,” he says, a
little cross. “I’m the death of you? You’re the one who got himself sent away
from me after swearing to be by my side!”
“I—“ Izumi flushes, sparing a glance around before he simply grabs Leo by the
hips and shoves him hard against the wall, helpless to do anything but when Leo
grabs and climbs and kisses him like that. “It was for a good cause,” he shoots
back, just as crossly (not very). He feels himself practically vibrating, and
he surrenders to the urge to have his mouth on Leo’s again with a strangled
sound, lurching forward to kiss that soft mouth again. “Mmn, and it’s not
like…I’m gone forever. Stop distracting me, answer the question.”
“Totally forgot the question,” Leo says contentedly, twining his fingers in
Izumi’s gorgeous hair for the first time in months. “Keep kissing me, eat all
my questions.”
Izumi opens his mouth to protest that, but he gives up the second Leo’s hands
are in his hair, because he’s weak and probably going to die at dawn, anyway.
“Get me drunk, you made me miss out on good ale,” he breathes, and kisses Leo
like he’s wanted to for months.
Kissing other men is fine and all, but Leo…gods, Leo is Leo, warm and bright
and like an oasis in this terrible, shitty place that he has to sink his hands
into immediately. Izumi groans against his mouth, kissing him hard, sucking on
his tongue until he’s short of breath and knows Leo must be, too. Oh well, he
dazedly thinks, and kisses him again.
“I’m drunk on Izumi,” Leo breathes, eyes dancing, sheer happiness and gratitude
radiating off of him, relieved energy coursing through his veins so much that
it makes him lightheaded, steals his breath, until all he can do is smile
between each kiss. “Get drunk on me, my love, I’ve missed my bastard page and I
don’t care about anything else.”
That horrific nickname from the right mouth, after so many weeks—Izumi groans
against his mouth, shoving Leo harder against the wall. “You’re the worst
creature alive,” he rasps, his hands dragging lower to grip handfuls of Leo’s
ass, pulling him against him as he kisses his mouth, then his neck, then up to
his ear where his teeth catch the lobe of it, and—“A tip, Milord,” Izumi lowly
teases, tugging on the earring he finds there with his teeth. “If you’re going
to try and run about like a low-born, don’t wear such fine earrings.”
Leo squeaks, wriggling between Izumi and the wall, shivering with every rasp of
Izumi’s teeth against his skin. “Hnn...it’s....ahhh, it’s smart, you see? I
look like a pretty prostitute like this, wearing fine earrings to lure men into
my clutches!”
“What’s smart about that?” Izumi growls, nipping again before he tips his head
back, a scowl twisting his mouth. “I don’t want to hear that you’re trying to
lure men in to…what, even?” A stab of possessive jealousy makes his grip
tighten. “If anyone has put their hands on you, I’ll kill them.”
Leo blinks slowly. “I can’t fit in as a citizen,” he explains, still amused.
“Wrong eyes, wrong skin, wrong everything. And there weren’t any soldiers from
far away here--until now, I guess? So it was my only choice. No one touches me,
Sena.” He winks, then nuzzles into Izumi’s neck. “I’ve got hidden knives.”
Izumi huffs at that. He’s still not happy about it, but he lets it drop, albeit
reluctantly, because more importantly—“Why are you running around like this in
the first place?” he demands, catching Leo’s face in one hand and giving his
head a gentle shake. “I’m not kissing you again until you tell me.”
Leo pouts. “But kissing is better than talking,” he wheedles. “And Izumi is
good at it. And I want it.” He strains up, trying to get more kisses anyway.
Izumi drops him back onto his feet and takes a full step back, arms folded over
his chest. “Nope. Not until you talk. Heh, did you shrink, Milord?” he teases,
finding himself looking down at Leo a bit more than he remembers. Nice.
“You grew and you know it,” Leo grumbles, setting his hands on his hips to
glare more up at Izumi than he remembers. “Fine. I was out because I’m a
dangerous secret criminal looking for victims. Wahaha!”
“I’m serious, Leo.” He doesn’t want to be, not right now, but this is
stressful. Izumi sighs, glancing aside. “One of the men you were with. He works
for the Academy—did you know that?”
Leo beams. “Of course!”
The anxiety starts up again, full force. “And you’re…spending time around him,
why? Milord, I know this is not what you want to spend time talking about right
now, but it’s important that you tell me.”
Leo’s face falls, and he growls a little, annoyed. “This takes a lot of
explanation, you know. You want to do that in the alleyway where we could be
overheard?”
Izumi shuts his eyes, frustrated. “So you’ll kiss me in an alleyway but not
give me at least a brief explanation of what you’re doing so I can stop
thinking you’re throwing yourself at death’s door?” he scolds, reaching over to
pull on Leo’s ponytail. “Abridge it, then. I don’t have time to follow you to a
more private location, I’m already on thin ice with my captain.”
“Izumi’s always in trouble,” Leo says with a sigh. “Maybe you should stop
mouthing off.” He folds his arms. “The Academy isn’t my enemy, you know. They
work for me.”
“It’s not because of what I said for once, Milord.” Izumi sighs, glancing
skyward as if that will give him strength. “I know I haven’t been able to
explain as much as I’d like to in my letters, but—you remember what I was
saying to you about wizards, right? Men like that, Holy Administrators, they’re
called, those are the ones making those terrible rules.”
Leo, of course, is right, and this isn’t the time or place for long-winded
explanations. Izumi grimaces, reaching back to untie then retie his hair, now
thoroughly mussed from Leo’s grasping hands. “I just want to know what you’re
doing with a man like that, that’s all.”
“You should be asking what he is doing with me,” Leo says with a grin. “The
answer is, he doesn’t know who I am. And officially, I don’t know who he is. We
don’t use names.”
He brushes the hair out of his eyes, and tries to give Izumi a real answer for
once. “We share a...nighttime hobby. It’s not official.”
Izumi relaxes…somewhat. It’s good to know that the Academy asshole doesn’t know
who Leo is, but—“All right. The other man that was with you, who was he?”
“No idea! That’s the fun of it!”
“You’re going to give me a heart attack. This is the sort of thing I was hoping
you weren’t up to in my absence, you know.”
“You were hoping I wasn’t breaking up slaver gangs? That’s a weird thing to
hope for.”
“You’re—what? Yes! Yes, I was hoping you weren’t doing things like that!” Izumi
snaps, lurching forward to grab Leo by the shoulders and firmly shake him. “Why
are you doing that?! No, I know why you’re doing it, because you’re a good
person and a brave one, if not a stupid one, but I would like for you to live
long enough to be king, you know!”
“I’m getting shaken,” Leo complains, and doesn’t do anything to stop it. “Come
on, if I want to be a good king, I have to know about the plight of our least
fortunate citizens. That’s what the Grand Tour used to be about, but when I got
here...” He huffs, blowing hair out of his face. “All they wanted to talk about
is how great it is that they’ve stamped out the indigenous population and how
many incentives we could expect if I kept sending armies down to patrol the
sands. I’ve got no problem with men and women that want to sell their bodies,
but so many of the ones being sold are captured off the street, did you know
that? Even ones that are already prostitutes--they’ll capture them, and put
them in chains, kept underground, just so they don’t have to pay them anything.
And they don’t have anyone to speak up for them.”
He goes quiet for a moment, face twisted in bitterness. “They brought a girl to
my room the first night I was here. Showing off the goods. They talked about
her like she was livestock, right in front of her. They say it’s so profitable
to kidnap that they’re going to start exporting to the Islands--because the
Southern bitches breed so fast, they said.”
“I’ve heard about all of this, yes.” Because Mika has clearly told Arashi, and
Arashi has to tell someone, because it weighs on him until he starts being
furious at himself for not being there to stop it when it happened to Mika, no
matter how illogical it is. Izumi exhales a slow breath and stops shaking Leo,
even though he doesn’t remove his hands. “…I just wanted to know that you knew
what you were getting into, and that you weren’t being careless. I know why you
want to act, of course I do, but…heh. It pisses me off. If I could help you,
I’d much rather be doing that.”
Leo shrugs, feeling a little silly. “I’m going to fix it once I’m King,” he
says, as if it’s obvious. “And I know that’s what everyone thinks I should be
doing--waiting so I can become King and help them all that way. But what the
hell am I supposed to do about everyone I could have saved before that? Saving
them as King, that’s a king’s duty--but what I’m doing now, isn’t that a
human’s duty?”
“…Arashi can suck my dick so hard,” Izumi mutters underneath his breath before
he grabs Leo and crushes him to his chest. “Gods, I have missed you,” he
exhales into Leo’s hair. “It’s…it’s been long enough and I’ve been bragging
about you so much that I almost forgot that you were honestly,really like this.
Thank god.”
Leo promptly bites Izumi’s chest gently, snaking his arms around Izumi’s waist.
“Unfortunately, I’ll have to make you skip out on your post,” he says. “You’re
mine. Can’t let you go now that you’re in my arms.”
“Issue some kind of royal command and I’ll leave in a heartbeat,” Izumi says,
nuzzling into Leo’s neck with a sigh. “Whatever entourage you have down here is
absolutely terrible if they don’t know where you are right this second.”
“They put me to bed at sundown, then go get drunk in the brothels until dawn,”
Leo says sourly. “Apparently, plucking this job was the choice plum. They say
this year makes it worth having to take me to the North next year, where
they’ll freeze their balls off and have to rough up girls to get a kiss.”
“Ridiculous. Just let me take you North next year, they can all screw off. I’m
fun.” Izumi squeezes Leo again, hard enough to briefly lift him off of his
feet. “I’m going to smuggle you back to my tent and keep you like a woman.”
“Until dawn,” Leo agrees. “Koray says there’s a sandstorm coming in, so we’re
not going hunting tonight. So...what are you waiting for, bastard page?”
Izumi hesitates, then picks Leo’s scarf back up again, properly wrapping his
hair in it and tucking it into place around his face as well. “I hope everyone
is jealous of the pretty whore I picked up tonight,” he teases, grabbing Leo by
the hand to pull him along. “You have to promise me not to try and seek me out
on the regular, all right? Otherwise I’ll be far too distracted.”
“Ah...mmm...I’m not promising that at all,” Leo laughs, falling into step a bit
behind Izumi, head lowered like a good Sandland prostitute. “Now that I know
where to go, I’ll probably come every time we’re done with our activities.”
“Dooon’t, you’ll make this so difficult,” Izumi bemoans, struggling to alter
his footsteps to stay ahead of Leo. Old habits are hard to break. “So you know
that other man’s name and not anything else, huh. That annoys me.”
“I don’t know everyone in the world, you know. I only met him tonight, he was
being enslaved and we put a stop to it. Then we bought him ale with his own
money, haha!”
“When you meet someone like that, you should question them more thoroughly,”
Izumi chides, squeezing Leo’s hand. “You’re too friendly, you brat.”
“Be nice, I’m going to have to be diplomatic my whole life,” Leo complains, not
much like a proper whore. “I’m taking my unexpected free youth and running
wild. I’ve shot a lot of people!”
“Don’t say that so loudly,” Izumi grouses. “I’ll be nice when I’m entirely
certain you’re in safe company. Go on, keep complaining, I’ll throw you over my
shoulder like a sack of potatoes.”
“Do it. Make me potatoes, I dearly wish to be many potatoes.”
“Of course that’s what you want.”
Izumi hauls him over, and with only a little grunt of effort, hoists Leo up,
dumping him neatly over his shoulder to carry him off more like a prize of war
than any potato sack he’s seen. “You’ve gotten fat, Milord,” he hums, patting
Leo’s ass as he sets off. “Time for some proper exercise to get you back into
shape.”
“Rude! You’ve just gotten strong, that’s all! Also I don’t have you sucking me
dry every day, that’s probably it!”
“Ahh, so that’s it. Your loyal page will have to remedy that, won’t he?”
It’s a good ten minute walk to the other side of the city—the lengths they’ve
gone to find somewhere free of prostitutes, ugh—and another five to reach the
encampment. It’s quiet, at this time before dawn, and Izumi is grateful to not
be hassled as he makes his way into his tent.
Then, he dumps Leo directly onto his roll of a bed, which is fortunately far
more cushioned than most, courtesy of his own neurosis. “You have to keep your
voice down,” he warns, dropping down and yanking Leo’s scarf away again. “Or
else.”
Leo cocks his head, and reaches unabashedly for the laces of Izumi’s breeches,
nimble fingers making quick work of them. “Or they’ll just think you’ve found
yourself a breathy whore, won’t they?” he asks with a laugh, letting his hair
spill fiery orange out of his scarf, shaking out his earrings. “Or is it that
you’ve got a lover here who’ll be cross with you?”
“Or half the camp will show up to cheer me on. Soldiers are obnoxious, you
know?” Izumi’s tongue soon stumbles over his next quip, however, because Leo,
in his bed, looking every bit the part of a prince undercover…so help him, he’s
weak, who said Leo was allowed to still be so perfect?
Izumi’s own hands busy themselves with spreading Leo’s thighs to better crawl
between them, his mouth immediately finding Leo’s neck again to kiss and suck
his way along it. “I’ll make it hard on you, though,” he breathes, grabbing one
of the hands on his laces and guiding it against the already aching line of his
cock. “You’re so lovely I can’t help myself.”
Leo starts to say something cheeky, but how can he, when Izumi is looking at
him like this, when his cock is so hot and hard and here the way it hasn’t been
for eight goddamned months?
His hand wraps around as if it’s his favorite thing come back to him after a
lifetime apart, and he breathes deeply, pupils dilating. He gives it one long
stroke, then brings his hand up to his mouth, giving it a long lick as he
shivers. “Now it’s bad to be so greedy,” he huffs, squirming under Izumi’s
touch. “I want it inside me and in my mouth.”
Izumi curses underneath his breath, his eyes fluttering helplessly when that
surge of arousal nearly does him in already. Too soon, too soon, he has to make
this last. “You can have both,” he murmurs, crawling forward to straddle Leo’s
chest, balancing on his knees to keep his weight off of him as he reaches back,
hauling over a pillow to ease it behind Leo’s head. Izumi’s fingers curl around
his own cock, his other hand thumbing apart Leo’s lips. “Open up, love, and you
can have a taste.”
Leo doesn’t even think. One whiff of the musky, familiar taste of his lover and
he’s gone, opening his mouth to let Izumi rub over his lips, then his tongue.
He lets out a helpless moan, leaning up to suck more of the head in, swirling
his tongue around it, lapping urgently at the tip as his eyes flutter, staring
up at Izumi. Hopefully, his breathless, wordless pleas for more are making
themselves clear.
Izumi’s breath raggedly catches in his chest, and he gives into the pure need
to let his cock slide in deeper, dragging along Leo’s tongue, already dripping
freely. He’s always been easy, but this feels like a crime—Leo’s mouth is so
hot and slick and perfect that he hears himself whimper, and one hand falls to
the blankets next to Leo’s head, bracing himself when his hips arch forward.
“I was gonna just…let you get me ready like this, but you might get more than
that,” Izumi admits, breathing hard as he watches the hungry way that Leo
swallows him down. “You look…so fucking good like this, Leo, what the hell.”
It’s probably odd that his own name goes directly to his cock, but Leo
whimpers, hands splayed on Izumi’s thighs, leaning up to suck hard on the head
of that thick cock leaking over his tongue. It’s been so long since anyone has
called him anything besides your highness or milord, and the intimate address
makes him ache with the easy, fond familiarity of it. He laps and sucks,
looking up through wet lashes when his eyes water, hands kneading into Izumi’s
thighs, until he chokes. More, he pleads with his eyes. My love, I need all of
you...
Fuck it, he gets hard again fast.
Izumi gives into the urge to drag his other hand through Leo’s hair, twisting
his fingers up through it as his hips roll forward, pressing in deep, taking
his time to let his cock sink down Leo’s throat. “Can you take all of it?” he
breathes, his eyes bright, cheeks flushed as he watches. His cock throbs
against Leo’s tongue, dripping steadily now. “You’re being so good—I can’t help
it. But, mm, you want a taste after so long, don’t you?”
Leo nods as much as he can when his mouth is so full, when he’s held in place
by Izumi’s cock stuffed deep inside of him, gagging and fighting it down,
squirming helplessly, uselessly under him, feeling his mouth water at the taste
of the fluid leaking over his tongue. He moans around the thick flesh in his
mouth, hearing the sloppy, obscene noises, making no effort to stop them when
Izumi feels so good in his mouth, feels so good that it makes tears flow from
his eyes. He tries to beg, please, but the word comes out so garbled and messy
that it’s barely a real word, just a nonsense, horny noise.
Izumi is done, and he doesn’t care.
This is the stuff of his fantasies, the thoughts that have kept him going for
months and months, and Leo’s hot mouth around him, sucking him down, desperate
and hungry and making the lewdest noises that one would never expect from a
prince—that makes him dissolve, arched over Leo’s face, gripping his hair as he
grinds in, using his mouth and throat like he can’t ever get enough.
Izumi bites his lip when he comes, strangling down the breathy, gasping groan
that tries to pull from his throat. Every twitch of his cock wrings another
shudder from him, and his eyes cross. “Sorry…sorry, gods, you’re so perfect,”
he pants out, chest heaving as he slowly pulls out, petting Leo’s hair. “You
swallowed all of it, didn’t you? Good boy.”
Leo’s eyes are glazed, and he licks his lips, reaching needily for Izumi to
pull him close. “You taste...as good as I remember,” he breathes, shivering
despite the heat. “I could have a full glass and I’d still want more.”
Izumi groans, slowly rolling to the side and stretching out to better follow
Leo’s pull. “Don’t say that, I’ll die,” he breathes, catching Leo’s mouth and
kissing him deeply, shuddering at the taste of himself on Leo’s tongue. He
shifts, pawing down for Leo’s own laces, unraveling them with an easy pull and
then curling his fingers around his cock. “Let me play with you a little, and
I’ll be hard enough to fuck you through the ground. Mmn, reach behind you,
love, my oil’s buried in the sheets, heh.”
Leo paws around behind himself, noting how low the oil is with a raised
eyebrow, nothing more. “Did you forget to put it back when you were done
playing with yourself?” he breathes, light and teasing as he rocks up into
Izumi’s hand. “Or did she?”
“I’m dying without you, I hope you know,” Izumi sighs, divesting Leo of his
clothing in short order and snatching away the oil. “Dying and suffering. I
might as well have some solace when I’m missing your pretty mouth and soft
bed.”
With a last kiss to Leo’s mouth, Izumi neatly rolls him, pressing him down onto
his stomach and settling behind him on his knees. Oil drips over his fingers,
down the cleft of Leo’s ass, and Izumi wastes no time wriggling a pair of them
inside, sucking in a sharp breath at how Leo’s body already seems to drag him
in. “I’m not the only one dying without, apparently.”
“No solace for me,” Leo breathes, arching back against Izumi’s hand, his body
shuddering as if it’s been given water in the desert, as if it’s finally
reclaimed the part of itself it’s been missing. “There’s--no one for me but
you, it’s just--hnnn!! Ahhh, hnn, mm, that’s--I’m--”
He hadn’t planned it, but one lucky, accurate brush of those familiar fingers
is all it takes, and he spills on the ground, reaching behind to grab Izumi’s
wrist as his body quakes with the force of his first orgasm in months.
“Ahh...don’t stop, just--play with me, you promised, please--”
Izumi gulps, even as he obliges, lurching forward to bend over Leo from behind,
nuzzling aside his hair, mouthing kisses to the back of his neck as his fingers
curl in deep, stroking and spreading inside. “We’ll see how long I can,” he
whispers, finding that perfect little spot to press and rub against, milking
out Leo’s orgasm as long as he can. “You look so good like this, Leo.”
He leans back enough to drag his other hand down the arch of Leo’s spine,
absently tracing his fingertips between a few of the new freckles that decorate
his skin. “It drives me insane that I’m not there to take care of you,” he
exhales. “It’s not fair.”
“Take care of me n-now,” Leo pleads, toes flexing, sweat dripping down his nose
to splatter on Izumi’s bedroll, cock leaking almost continually, making him
squirm over and over. “Your--your mouth, your hand, your--hnn, be n-nice,
don’t--if you’re going to m-milk me at least wait until after you’re i-in me,
p-p-please--”
“You asked to be played with,” Izumi teases, but his voice is breathless, and
he’s already on the edge of his damned self-control, anyway. He steadies Leo
with a hand against his back as he pulls his fingers free, and drips more of
the oil over his cock. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you—here you go…”
He doesn’t wait any longer—he can’t, not when he’s already achingly hard again.
The head of his cock presses against that tight hole only for a second before
he pushes inside, sinking in deep, everything easy and slick and made for him.
Their skin sticks together when he thrusts in those last couple of centimeters,
and Izumi shudders, sagging down, brushing Leo’s hair aside with shaky fingers
to kiss the side of his neck as his hips roll languidly, savoring how it feels
to be inside after so long. “Still perfect,” he breathes. “Gods, it’s good,
isn’t it? I’m in so deep, Leo…”
“S’where you belong,” Leo slurs, eyes rolled back in his head, hands clenching
weakly in the sheets as he shoves back, voice a throaty purr. Being fingered is
fine, but being fucked like this makes him shudder and drop down to the
bedroll, pushing back just enough to let Izumi know he’s here, he’s hungry,
he’s moving with him. “Izumi...my love...just--ahhh, you own me, make me yours,
I’m yours, I--”
He bites into his wrist, a grumpy, shivery noise, and feels his belly aching
and cramping already, over-full enough to make him pant. “S’where...you
belong,” he whispers again.
“You make the cutest noises,” Izumi groans, sinking down onto his elbows over
Leo  as he slowly rocks his hips forward, taking his time to feel every bit of
skin sliding against skin, every single time Leo clenches and squirms down onto
his cock. His chest sticks to Leo’s back as he presses close, his breath hot
against Leo’s ear, sweaty hair tumbling free messily over their shoulders. “It
fits inside you…so well.” He shifts, sliding a hand down underneath Leo, his
fingers dragging down his slick, messy stomach before he presses in, his breath
hiccuping. “Is it…is it too much? Feels like it, good.”
“H-how can it be too much if it’s...where you’re--hnn--meant to be?” Leo
groans, biting his pillow, shoving back against Izumi, trying to get more of
his mouth, his beautiful chest, his arms pressed around him. That cock is thick
and hard inside him, making him wriggle under Izumi’s weight, desperately
beseeching. “Don’t--I’m not your maiden, I’m your lover, I’m--” His breath
catches on a sob. “I’m yours--”
“Yeah—y-yeah, you’re mine.” Izumi’s arm slides fully around Leo, hauling him
back, pulling him into the next, far rougher thrust of his hips. It rips a low,
rasping groan from his throat, and his teeth catch against the curve of Leo’s
ear before he sucks on it and shoves in hard again, grinding in long and deep
with every single thrust. He can feel the way Leo’s body pulls at him, and it
just makes him harder, his cock twitching, leaking with every thrust. “You’re
not a maiden, b-but—“ He laughs, planting a long, sucking kiss to the side of
his neck. “At this rate, you’re gonna have an heir in you.”
Leo feels his cock lurch at that, and he can’t stop himself from crying out,
twisting to grab Izumi in a searing kiss, biting his lip, sucking on his tongue
as he bucks and shudders. “You’re--yes,” he moans, vision blurring. “Put an
heir in me, Izumi...I w-want to be your bride, just...”
He grabs at Izumi’s hand, lacing their fingers together, pushing his hips back
even if it feels too full, too much, as if Izumi really is going to fill him to
bursting. “Please, love, breed me--”
Izumi tastes blood, and it just makes him kiss Leo harder.
Leo moves against him, and he moves back, his knees slipping on his blankets
when he braces himself, but he doesn’t care. It’s still enough purchase to
shove in deep when Leo arches his back and pushes against him, hunger and
desperation in every single movement. Leo shudders, clenches around him, and
Izumi barely stifles his own voice against Leo’s mouth, clinging to Leo as he
ruts forward, pulling him back against him instead of just shoving him down,
fucking him hard.
When he comes this time, it’s a far longer, lingering thing, leaving him to
lurch forward, trembling, shuddering with every pulse of his cock. Izumi grinds
in with every single throb, feeling it grow slicker inside, easier still to
sink in deep and stay there, and sweat drips down from his hairline,
splattering onto Leo’s back. “Feel that?” he breathes. “Leo, you’re…you’re all
mine again.”
Leo hears high, breathy little cries, and is fairly certain that they’re his
own. He feels himself trembling, squeezing down on Izumi no matter that it’s so
much too much, so much too full, a thick pulse inside of him that makes him
almost luxuriate in the feeling. “Don’t pull out,” he murmurs, letting his head
fall forward. “Ever. You live here now.”
“Shhh, shh…” Izumi slowly sinks down, hissing out a slow breath as Leo squeezes
down around him. “Ahh…be sweet, love, it’s sensitive,” he huffs, petting a hand
through Leo’s hair as he shifts, making sure to settle in a way that lets his
cock stay fully sheathed inside. “Tell me when you can’t stand it anymore.”
“The only thing I can’t stand,” Leo whispers, snuggling back against Izumi,
eyes closing in gratitude for the way he feels, “is the thought of being
separate from you again. You’d better have gotten me properly this time,
bastard page.” There’s a wobble in his voice, and he sniffs a little.
“I’ve been trying,” Izumi grumbles, slowly rolling to the side to spoon behind
Leo so he doesn’t have to keep laying in his own wet spot, both arms wrapping
around him to keep him close. Even in this heat, being skin to skin with Leo,
sweating on each other and staying very sticky, is the best thing he’s felt in
awhile. “Let’s just elope.”
“Yeah.” Nothing sounds better. “Ruka will be a good Queen, I could be the
wastrel lover of a bastard page--or I’ll dress as a girl, we’ll get married in
the North, I’ll be your Lady.”
“If I told my mother I knocked you up and was marrying you, nothing would make
her more thrilled.” It sounds wistful, but Izumi honestly considers the
logistics of such a thing for a moment. “I’ll just eventually have to pry a
bastard away from some girl…ah, not like it’s hard. I’ll find a pretty green-
eyed girl to sleep with, it’s a good enough match.”
“Nonsense,” Leo murmurs, turning to mouth over Izumi’s neck. “We’ll grab a
little green-eyed sad child from an orphanage, no need to part more legs than
you need to.”
“You don’t want a baby that’s actually mine?” Izumi grouses, squeezing Leo
gently as he tips his head down to press a kiss to Leo’s mouth. “I’d like to
carry on my mother’s name at least sort of properly.”
Leo squeals, squirming away until Izumi’s soft cock slips out of his stinging
hole, making him wince. “You squeezed me too much. Hnn. I’m the scion of an
ancient line, first of my name and nineteenth firstborn son, and you’re a
country bastard, but you’re worried about preserving your line?” He grins, and
presses a kiss to Izumi’s cheek. “That’s my page.”
“You summed it up nicely, thanks,” Izumi hums, lurching forward to kiss Leo
again, grabbing up his face in his hands to gently smush his cheeks as he does.
“Hurry up and be king already. I really want to be called your knight.”
“You’ll be my bastard knight,” Leo says, cheerfully letting himself be
squished, looping his arms around Izumi’s waist. Then, softly, he admits, “I’m
scared of being king. If I make the wrong choices...right now, if I do, it’s
just my problem. But what if I do something bad? What if I make a stupid
decision and people die because of it?”
“I’ll be there to help.” Izumi absently trails his fingertips down Leo’s neck,
wordlessly healing the various little hickeys he left behind. “Then if
something stupid happens, it’s both of our faults, and we’ll deal with it
together. You mean well and want to fix things, that’s almost the entire
battle, I swear.”
Leo nuzzles into Izumi’s hand, seeking warmth, reassurance. “I just...my father
did, too. I know, he’s awful, but when he was young, he wanted to do right by
the people. I’ve been talking to a lot of people lately, and...the idea that my
choices could turn out like his...it’s terrifying.”
“He didn’t have someone like me to keep his head on straight, then.” Izumi’s
expression is wry, but fond, and he gently rubs his thumb over Leo’s cheek. “I
won’t let you end up like your father, love. I’ll kill you myself first. You
have a better heart than he ever did, anyway, I’m sure of that.”
Leo closes his eyes, nodding slowly. “I’m trusting you to keep me in check.
I...I don’t know if I’d take the throne if I didn’t have you. I’d probably just
disappear.”
“Consider it a joint effort, then.” Izumi plants a kiss to both of Leo’s closed
eyelids before stretching against him with a long, content sigh. “I’ll build
you the best Kingsguard you’ve ever seen, and you’ll rule this realm wisely and
justly. You’re already at it whether I want you to be or not.”
Leo’s smile is a little bit sly. “I couldn’t just let it go. I...ahhh. I wish I
could really marry you. You’ll deserve the crown, too. Just...”
He sits up, grabbing Izumi’s hand and pulling it to his heart, eyes intent. “Be
my good heart. Be my heart that isn’t afraid of politics, or war, or making the
wrong choices. Be my heart that sees what I’m doing and doesn’t look away.”
Izumi blinks up at him, his cheeks flushing. That sounds more like a marriage
proposal than any of the teasing and talk they’ve ever tossed around before,
and it makes his own chest ache as his fingers curl against Leo’s. “…I will,”
he quietly says. “I’ll be your heart. I won’t look away. I can’t look away now,
that’s not going to change.”
“Don’t ever look away.” Leo takes a deep breath, and nods firmly. “And I won’t
fail you. I swear that to you, my most important person. I will not fail you.
You believe me, don’t you?”
“Mm. I believe you with my whole being, my whole heart, which is all yours.”
Izumi’s lips twitch, and he gently prods Leo’s chest with his finger. “Enough
of that serious face, it doesn’t suit you. Am I going to have to send you away
on that note, or with a kiss?”
“Don’t send me away at all,” Leo suggests, but he turns to look out the tent
flap, groaning when he sees the first hint of gray. “Damn, I have to go fast.
Kiss me, I’ll see you soon.”
“See me when it makes sense,” Izumi mutters, lurching up to kiss Leo firmly,
then pulls away, fishing out his breeches from the blankets to thrust them into
Leo’s grasp. “But if you need me, you know where to find me now.”
“I’ll always find you.” And with that, and his breeches hastily donned, Leo is
gone into the predawn light.
And with that, Izumi resigns himself to his own, potentially sobering fate.
He dresses slowly, grimacing at the lingering, too-pleasant aches of his
muscles, and rakes a hand back through his hair, not bothering to tie it up as
he slinks out of his tent several minutes after Leo leaves, leaving his sword
behind and pulling the flap closed behind himself. Some other soldiers are
already starting to rouse at this hour, and Izumi swiftly avoids them,
beelining to Arashi’s tent no matter how he dreads it.
“Morning.” It’s a bland greeting, and Izumi sticks his head in afterwards,
suppressing a yawn as much as he suppresses his nerves. “Reporting in,
Captain.”
Arashi, bleary-eyed and rubbing his face, looks up from his bedroll. He’s
naked, though the lantern burned low and the assorted troop movement papers
scattered around the tent make it seem likely he hasn’t exactly slept. “This is
unofficial. You don’t have to stand at attention. Come sit.”
Good, because I’m probably not going tois the quip Izumi passes on, and he
walks in, pulling the flap shut behind him securely before simply dropping down
on a patch of the bed that doesn’t have paperwork on it. “So.”
“I don’t like doubting my men,” Arashi says frankly. He holds up a hand to
forestall any protest. “And you haven’t really given me a reason to doubt you.
I jumped to conclusions. I’m grumpy and that was wrong. Just...swear to me and
I’ll believe you. I’m a simple soldier, you know?”
Izumi sighs, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling of the tent. “What
am I swearing, exactly?” he asks after a moment. “I’m not trying to be a
smartass. I’ve already given you my loyalty, but at the end of the day, I’m not
your man.”
“All I want,” Arashi says wearily, “is for you to swear that the blood pact you
swore will bind you as if you were human. I’ll believe you.”
“I was operating on that assumption before, you ass.” Izumi buries his face
into one hand. “I swear. All right? I swear it still binds me just as I thought
it had before.Shouldn’t you be annoyed at Ritsu more than me? He’s given us
both false information. One—he told me the blood pact would, you know, work.
Two—he didn’t tell you that I wasn’t…wasn’t human. But he knew, apparently,
with just a sniff. I didn’t even know, for certain.”
Arashi scowls. “Yeah, I’m going to need to have a talk with him. I don’t like
that the only people bound are me and Tsukasa, since that kid would be bound by
a stray curse he said under his breath.”
“And apparently you would be by a dick up anyone’s ass,” Izumi dryly retorts,
and he flops onto his back, sprawling across the foot of Arashi’s bed. His
heart still thuds uncomfortably in his chest. “Whatever. Good to know you think
so little of me, I guess.”
Arashi raises an eyebrow. “You saying you didn’t know you weren’t human?”
“No.” Izumi shrugs, not looking at him. He doesn’t want this conversation. He
wants no part of it, but he already swore he’d answer Arashi’s questions.
“Until I joined up with you, I…my mother thought I was some kind of wizard, and
always just told me to keep my mouth shut. Shu was the first one to suggest I
might not be human. Ritsu confirmed it. I didn’t know.”
Arashi huffs out a breath. “That explains more than it doesn’t, I suppose,” he
admits. “It’s not like I wanted you to be a traitor. But seeing the prince
getting all chummy with someone from the Academy, right after I found out you
were lying to me...Mika says you look funny to his eyes, and that meant you’re
a half-blood, that’s all. It isn’t as if I was researching you.”
“Leo knows the guy’s from the Academy, but the guy doesn’t know who he is.
Apparently, they’re teaming up to take down slavers. I don’t know all the
details, I didn’t get into it, that was good enough for me.” And it should be
more than enough for you, too, Izumi darkly thinks, still far more sour about
Arashi doubting Leo than doubting him. “You were pissed enough to threaten to
slit my throat or duel me. I never lied to you, I just didn’t tell you I’m
half-snake or whatever, I don’t even know what it is.”
Arashi holds up his hands in surrender. “Fine. I accept. If you’re still angry,
I’ll duel you for the prince’s honor, or I’ll make him an extra low bow or
something. Just understand--I’m risking my life for him, and I’ve never had a
word from his mouth that he’s on my side, only yours.”
“You can get on the ground and kiss his feet the next time you see him while I
watch.” He’s only sort of being sarcastic. Grumpily, Izumi rolls onto his side,
glowering directly at Arashi. “Don’t make me want to duel you for his honor.
I’d win.”
“Cute. Before you get mad, I mean that.” Arashu sighs, wistful, and stretches
out on his bedroll. “You’re my best officer, Izumi. And I like watching you be
in love, it’s soothing. And I like fucking you into the floor and getting drunk
with you. But you hide shit from me at your peril, so don’t think I’m going to
let you get away with stuff because of your pretty face. This is still my
command, and there are still lines you can’t cross. A word from me and you go
back to being banished and stripped of your mother’s inheritance. I don’t want
to, but I can’t afford to have dissension in the ranks.”
“Stab me, then.”
Arashi stares. “Why?”
“Because I hide shit from you at my own peril, apparently.” Izumi stretches out
his hand, letting it flop to the bed. “Seriously. Take a knife, stab it through
my hand, right now.”
Arashi sighs, but reaches for his boot knife, entirely expecting him to pull
away. “All right, but if this is some kind of stupid study about how fast you
are when I’m not expecting--”
He does not expect Izumi to stay perfectly still, or for the knife to go
entirely through his hand. His eyes go wide, and he yanks the blade out,
cursing a blue streak and grabbing a shirt to use as a bandage. “Fuck, shit,
I’m sorry, I thought you were going to move, you idiot--”
Izumi doesn’t even as much as flinch, but he does reach up with his other hand,
grabbing Arashi by the shoulder to hold him still. “Look,” he says quietly,
holding up his bleeding hand, which already has decided bleeding is overrated,
the wound closing up at a rapid pace right before Arashi’s eyes. “So you can
fucking see that I’m not hiding it from you now.”
Arashi goes very still. Then he breathes out through his nose, and sets the
shirt aside. “No wonder you were willing to fight a berserker. I thought you
had a death wish.”
“I kinda do. It turns me on.” Izumi sighs, shaking out his hand, the lingering
sting making him grumpy. “Seriously…you’re a pain in the ass. I’ve had to
suffer so much because of you noticing when I get hurt.”
“It’s called being a good commander--or it is when my men aren’t hiding their
apparent immortality from me.” Arashi sits back, thinking, brow furrowed. “What
can you heal? And what else can you do?”
“Anything shy of a mortal wound on myself. That’s a guess, by the way. I’ve
never come so close to death that I couldn’t fix it, but I’ve had nasty gut
wounds before and been fine. Being bitten by venomous things. Poison, another
assumption. I get fevers easily, but they go away fast.” Izumi hesitates
visibly. “It extends to healing other people or animals. Sort of.”
“Really? That’s incredible! Ahh, what I wouldn’t give for.........”
Arashi’s voice trails off as something makes sense. “Dammit. I want my money
back for those horses.”
“No way, they’re still good! The fat helps, seriously.” As does the frantic
extra weeks of training Izumi put in to try and guarantee the riders of said
horses knew how to handle them properly. “It’s not that incredible,” he hastily
adds. “I can’t heal others all that naturally. Fixing myself is second nature.
Fixing others…it makes me exhausted, or ill. I’ve only ever used it on my horse
and…and the prince.”
“Okay, well, either I want back half my money that I paid for the fancy
expensive magic horses,” Arashi says, not without a hint of humor, “or I want
you to take responsibility for healing each and every one of them that fights a
snog and walks away with venom.”
Izumi’s mouth twists. “Fine, just take my wages until it’s done. I never said
they were magic, or resistant, just that they were tough, you know.” He rubs a
hand over his face. “I’m not a healer. Don’t assume that’s on the table now.”
Arashi waves a hand. “No, no, I don’t want that. You’re a good warrior, I’m not
wasting you in the Healer’s tent when you could save a hundred more lives by
cutting down the enemy quickly.”
“And without dying. Don’t forget that part. I literally don’t think I can at
this point.” Izumi rolls onto his side, staring at him. “Sparring you is a pain
in the ass because if I ever wanted to really go for it, it meant I had to take
your blade to my chest, and out myself. But I wanted to, so I could get at your
throat for once.”
Arashi brightens, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. “Really? Oh gods,
I wanna fight an invincible warrior, that sounds soooo fun!”
“So come at me for real next time. And send me somewhere scary, heh. That’s
what I’m good for.”
“No wonder you want to go against a Berserker. Ahhh, I wish I’d know earlier! I
would have let you, and if you die, there’s no real loss, right? Hmm...” He
taps his face, thinking as deeply as someone who likes to hit things with
swords can. “We don’t want the other men to know, though. See if you can get
Shu to throw you up some cover if you’re going to do something dangerous, and
make him save his magic instead of using it on you. He’s a precious resource.”
Izumi hesitates. “We, ah. We’ve already discussed that. At length, actually.
There’s just never been a chance to use it, in particular.”
Arashi purses his lips, sour now. “You know...this seems like the kind of thing
you should have told me earlier. I don’t mean because I’m your Captain,” he
says hurriedly. “I just mean...you thought the blood pact between us was
binding, right? So...you thought you could trust me with anything? But you
didn’t tell me, even if you thought we were bonded friends. Why?”
“…I thought you’d be pissed at me. And hate me.” Izumi worries at his lower
lip, glancing away. “Knowing you couldn’t—wouldn’t tell anyone—that’s not the
issue. If you knew what I could do, I thought you’d be way more pissed off at
the times I didn’t do anything, and men died. I…like I said, I don’t want to
ever be relegated to healing people.”
Arashi grimaces, not entirely pleased with the answer. “I don’t love this,” he
admits. “I hate the idea that I would have been pissed at you, but I can’t
exactly deny it, either. I’ve got a responsibility to those men, you know?
But...I’m going to trust you to use these powers, because officially, I don’t
know about it.”
“If it were you, I’d save you.” Izumi isn’t sure if that’s going to help or
hinder Arashi’s opinion of him, but…well, it’s the truth, and he swore he’d be
honest about this, so that’s what Arashi gets. “I just…have to be picky about
it, or I’m dead, and they’re dead. You know?”
“I’m trying to know that--like, you have a lot more experience in the ethics of
your power than I do, I suppose? Bah, this is too much stuff for a simple
soldier girl like me.” Arashi yawns hugely, stretching out his arms. “You need
to make up my beauty sleep to me, take my watch tonight.”
“I’ve been up all night,” Izumi protests, but he groans, rolling over to rub
his face into Arashi’s sheets. “Fine. But if I’m doing that, then you’re coming
into town with me again later. I…you should actually meet the prince properly
at some point, and he’s not going to avoid me, now that he knows I’m here.”
“Mm, I probably should,” Arashi agrees sleepily, throwing an arm over Izumi’s
waist. “If I’m going to be the Vice-Captain of his Kingsguard.”
“You make a lot of assumptions for someone so shitty.” Even saying that, relief
makes Izumi sag, and he slowly crawls closer, burying his way against Arashi’s
bare chest. Thank the gods you don’t hate me.
***** Chapter 11 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
From the first sip of Leo’s drink, Izumi knows they should’ve gone back to
camp—or anywhere else, honestly.
He stole the drink as a joke, teasing Leo and snatching the tankard away before
Leo could even bring it to his lips, and with the first sip, his tongue burns
in a way that has nothing to do with alcohol.
Poison, his mind immediately, firmly identifies, and arrogance makes him tip
the entire drink back and say nothing about it. “You,” he says to Leo when he
sets it down, wiping his mouth, “aren’t allowed a sip of this.”
That’s where it starts, and that’s where it should have ended.
The poison doesn’t bother him more than giving him the vaguest of headaches.
That isn’t the problem. The problem is in spending the rest of the night
insisting that he taste-test Leo’s drinks, which fortunately, Leo thinks is
cute. He does it once to Arashi’s, just to check, but his own haven’t been
poisoned, and Arashi’s haven’t either.
The end result, by the time they’ve spent the entire evening talking and
getting along splendidly, is that he’s three sheets to the wind, Leo is vaguely
tipsy, and Arashi is entertained by both of them. Someone is talking to Arashi,
eager and interested about his army—even here, people know who he is, isn’t
that nice?—but no one pays him and Leo any mind, especially when Leo has his
hair bound up and hidden, and Izumi isn’t wearing his uniform. “Let’s go
outside,” Izumi insists under his breath, his mouth almost against Leo’s ear,
and pulling his prince around to the back of the bar takes absolutely no effort
except the effort to not trip over his own feet. 
The door shuts behind them, and immediately, something is wrong.
Reflex makes him want to sober up immediately. That isn’t how fixing himself up
works, though, when he can’t focus—shit, he’s too drunk, and maybe something
else, it’s hard to even tell now. What he can focus on is how Leo gets wrenched
abruptly from his arms with something blunt hitting the back of his head to
knock him out, with another four hands on him, ripping him sideways, throwing
him so hard against the stone wall that he reels, hearing the crack of his
skull and the way his stomach almost immediately upheaves.
“He should’ve been dead by now if the poison took,” a man says about Leo,
obviously wary. “What do we do?”
“Make it quick,” comes a far more familiar voice—Rodan, Leo’s own uncle. Izumi
hasn’t heard that voice since he rejected the man at a banquet set for him, for
the acceptance of Rodan’s offer to be his squire, to swear to him and be his
man.
A blade flashes, and Izumi stops contemplating why Rodan is here in short
order. “No!”
His scream of protest isn’t met with laughter, but instead with cold
indifference as the dagger slits Leo’s throat before he’s tossed to the ground.
Izumi scrambles to react. A pair of hands are on him again, forcing him
backward before he lunges forward out of them, collapsing to the ground next to
Leo. He doesn’t think, just reacts, his hands grabbing at Leo’s, and even if
there’s not a singular bit of focus left in his body to heal himself, there’s
enough to just pump the magic his rapist father gave to him directly into Leo’s
veins, desperate, shaking, not even knowing if it will work—
“Enough, get him to his feet.”
Izumi kicks and bites, one hand going to his sword, the other still clinging to
Leo’s, desperate to do what he can while he still can. Did he do anything at
all? Gods, he can’t tell right now, not when he’s dizzy and aching, his head
feeling like it’s going to loll off of his shoulders already when his sword is
ripped off of his hip and he’s finally forced to let go of Leo.
And that’s the last thing he really remembers, until he finally wakes again.
The first thing Izumi sees is a rotting, poorly thatched roof, and under his
feet is sand and old, warped boards. Wherever he is, it’s far from clean, and
the sandy, fine dust makes his breath short.
Leo. Where’s Leo?
 The panic that sets into him immediately makes him bolt up to his feet—or try
to. The world spins and Izumi groans, barely making it to his knees before he
pitches forward, the contents of his stomach coming up in a violent upheaval.
Apparently, this is amusing, judging by the jeers of laughter that follow.
Should’ve learned my lesson last time, he miserably thinks, recalling how
poorly his body had reacted to ridding his own horse of venom. But this is
different—this is his body, so it has to be more than a simple poison. Maybe?
Gods, he doesn’t know.
“You lived through that, too, hmm? The damn witch said you wouldn’t. I’ve never
been so glad he was wrong.”
A man, powerfully-built and tall, strides into the light, just outside the bars
of Izumi’s cell. He’s in his 40s, graying gracefully around the temples,
obviously clean-shaven by his valet this and every morning. His stride is
confident, the product of decades of privilege, his clothes simple but of an
incredibly fine make, as though a royal tailor had been instructed to make a
parody of a dock worker’s clothes, but had only fine linens available. His nose
is hooked, his shoulders broad, his lips thin, and one of his ears has a very
noticeable notch, like a tomcat whose ears have been docked after neutering.
He stops pacing in front of Izumi’s cell, looking down on him, thin lips
curling in a slow smile. “Do you even remember my name, roue?”
Izumi’s chest heaves as he struggles not to vomit again. As his vision swims,
he tries to piece together exactly who this is—good fucking luck with that,
when he literally can barely even hold his head up.
But he sees that notch, and he feels his pulse spike.
Ah, this is bad. His body is playing a constant game of catch up, and that’s
not something he anticipated ever having to deal with. It’s one thing when it’s
actual injuries, something else entirely when it’s injuries and poison
and…drugs? Fuck if he knows, he’s always stayed far away from that kind of
thing. “No,” he manages, forcing his voice not to waver. “I don’t waste my time
remembering men I’ve defeated.”
“No wonder you were so easy to take prisoner. Remembering the faces of enemies
who’ve sworn vengeance on you is a useful life skill. I’d bid you to learn it,
if I planned on letting you walk out of here.”
Slowly, methodically, he removes his gloves, tucking them into his belt pouch.
He looks to the two men behind him in the shadows, two of his retainers, and
nods at the cell. “Bind him. Hit him in the head if you must, these northern
bastards are quite resistant to rough handling.”
The men burst into the cell, looping secure chains around Izumi’s wrists and
ankles. One of them, clearly a minor lord in his own right, bears his own
notch. This one bashes Izumi’s head into the ground, so hard his teeth rattle.
Izumi tastes blood when his teeth cut into his own tongue. His vision blurs
once more, threatening again to send him to his knees, but being hauled upward
to his feet gives him no chance of that. Forcing himself to focus, even for a
second, he takes note—another man with a notch, fantastic, though he doesn’t
particularly remember this one, either.
“Do you know what it means, when I do that?” he brags in his own memory,
flicking blood off of the tip of his sword. “In the North, we’ve got a problem
with too many cats. So we clip their balls off, and leave a little nick in
their ear, just like that, so we remember that they’re neutered and harmless.
That’s what your wife thinks, too, by the way.”
 Izumi shuts his eyes briefly. Now isn’t the time to regret his own past
arrogance. “So that’s why. Trying to grow your balls back?” he breathlessly
asks, because what’s the point in keeping his mouth shut now? The damage has
already been done. “Is Dianna’s pussy still just as good these days?”
An elbow swiftly finds its home in his stomach, and he coughs and chokes,
spitting blood and bile alike.
The gentleman’s cane comes down on the thug’s back, giving him a hard wallop.
“Be judicious,” he snaps. “If you wanted to get your own back, you should have
bid more at the auction. Wait outside the cell until I command you.”
He turns his attention back to Izumi, smirking. “Magrite,” he offers, flicking
open the top few buttons of his suitcoat. “That’s her name.”
Auction? Izumi licks the blood off of his lips, lifting his bound hands to wipe
his mouth. “Still not ringing a bell,” he mutters, his eyes lidding. His eyes
flicker to the outside of the cell, following the movements of the men that
left. He’s not fast enough to bolt after them and make it out, not now, not
when he’s in this condition. “What kind of shitty noble pays money to beat the
crap out of someone?”
“To beat you is just the privilege.” The man’s hand drops, unfastening his belt
now, tossing it out of the room to his men. Then he grabs Izumi’s hair, yanking
it back and shoving him back down over the wooden bench, the room’s only
furniture. “The money I paid was to be the first to tell you your neutering
failed, little tom. When we’re all finished reminding you, one of us will pay
to neuter you, Tommy. Maybe we’ll release you into the wild with a notch out of
your ear. Maybe without a tongue, or feet, so you’ll have to crawl. It’s hard
to tell what His Lordship will put on the auction table next.”
Izumi’s stomach flips, and any ideas of self-preservation flutter out the
window.
“Fuck you and your lord,” he bites out, twisting against the hold, trying to
wrench himself away. He twists and kicks, breathing hard, feeling his elbow dig
back uselessly between the man’s ribs. Whatever he’s been drugged with, his
body does not know how to handle it, or if it does, it’s happening so slowly
that it leaves him as weak as a kitten. “I should’ve lopped off more than your
ear. Does your wife know you have to pay to get it even now?”
The man laughs quietly, dragging a hand down Izumi’s spine. “This is why I paid
three thousand gold royals to have you first. I wanted you with the most fight
in you, before it’s all fucked out of you.”
He grabs Izumi’s trousers and yanks, hard enough to rip them half-off, and his
hand delves down, grabbing Izumi firmly by the balls and squeezing in a way
obviously not designed to cause pleasure. “You can scream like a little tom if
you want. No one will hear anything. Or if they do, it’ll just make them more
eager to bid higher next time.”
Izumi hisses through his teeth, refusing to make a sound and give him the
satisfaction. His heart pounds, and he wishes it would stop—the faster it
pounds, the more his body starts to wake, functioning far more normally by the
second. It’s a blessing and a curse; he’d rather be drugged out of his mind for
something like this, but at the same time, if he heals up, he’ll be able to
escape—maybe.
Or I’ll be their plaything for longer, because I won’t die.
 “You overpaid,” he pants out, hating the way his skin feels dreadfully,
agonizingly hot now. It’s his body trying desperately to catch up, but it
translates to something tingly and gross, making him shiver until his limbs
feel useless. “Didn’t your w-wife tell you I don’t quit?”
“You’re struggling far too much,” the man grunts, and pulls something out of a
pocket. A second later, metal and leather click around Izumi’s neck, with
something hard and rough in the center. “Had that whipped up by a wizard,” he
says, incredibly pleased with himself. “When you shrugged off all that poison.
Figured our little tom had to be a filthy fucking half-breed, or worse. That
should keep you docile, once your body recognizes the stone.”
Sickly dread sinks into Izumi’s stomach. He thrashes, as if that’ll do anything
to dislodge it, but the second it touches his skin, it burns, making him choke
in a breath that leaves his limbs tingling and aching all the way down to his
toes.
It hurts in a way that Izumi didn’t know things could hurt—from the inside,
almost, as if it’s sliding directly through his veins. He whimpers in spite of
himself, slumping down with a ragged breath.
The man’s breathing speeds up. “That’s a nice look for you,” he breathes, hand
almost gentle when it pets at Izumi’s neck. No, not gentle: proprietary.
“Helpless. Impotent. We’ll get to the humiliation in time, Tommy. If you spread
your legs like a good kitty, maybe you won’t even bleed this time.”
“Go fuck yourself.” The touch makes his skin prickle, and Izumi dimly,
sardonically thinks it must be some kind of a defense mechanism, if he can find
any kind of pleasure out of that touch. “I…ah…” It hurts, it hurts. His eyes
squeeze shut, his hands curling into fists where they’re bound. His blood feels
like it’s sitting stagnant in his veins, uselessly churning, burning, aching.
“Hurry up and get it up,” Izumi mumbles, gritting his teeth against his own
growing panic. It’s one thing if he can fight his way through this. It’s
another thing if he’s helpless, trapped in his own damned mind the entire time.
“Or was your wife telling the truth about that after all?”
Without warning, the man’s cock drives brutally into Izumi’s hole with no
preparation, hand on his neck like iron, keeping him pinned to the bench.
“Shit, you’re tighter than any of the honorable ladies you trifle with,” he
groans, sparing no mercy, no sympathy, just thrusting in over and over with no
respite. “Who’s neutered now, Tommy?”
Izumi’s insults die on his tongue, and it’s all he can do to bite it instead,
desperate to not make a sound.
He fails.
It’s less the fact of being fucked, honestly. That he can deal with—it’s not
his first time with a guy that didn’t give a fuck about doing it right. Or at
least, he could deal with it, if every single nerve in his body wasn’t already
twanging out of tune, aching down to the core and leaving him to whimper and
pant, the noises catching up brokenly in his throat. More than that, though,
it’s the fact he can’t even kick or struggle, can’t even try to, because every
single time he thinks of moving, his arms burn or his legs burn or everything
burns from the inside, making it feel like he’s melting in the worst of ways.
Maybe I’ll just pass out. No, that would be too merciful. Izumi bites his lip
until it bleeds, the trembling refusal of his body to settle and quit slowly
driving him mad.
“There’s a good tom,” the man breathes, hand curling on Izumi’s neck, hips
slapping against Izumi’s ass every time he thrusts in deep. For some reason,
his hand tightens, and he smacks Izumi’s head against the rough wood of the
bench, laughing low in his throat. “If you scream, I’ll go easier on you. Go
on, scream, show me you’re scared.”
Izumi’s teeth grit, and with the last bit of his strength, he twists, lunges,
and sinks his teeth into the man’s hand as hard as he can.
He tastes blood, and bites harder, until his jaw aches and the growl that
rumbles low in his throat is anything but human. When he lets go, he spits
blood, pupils slitted and glazed, and the aching, stinging shove of the man in
him is a dull, throbbing pain compared to the constant buzzing pain everywhere
else. “I’ll show you scared,” he groans, his fingers clawing into his own
palms. “F…fuck you, t-tell me the name of your house.”
The man pulls out, grabbing Izumi by the hair and throwing him to the stone
floor, driving a foot into his stomach in a rage, kicking him once, twice,
three times before he curses, turning away to examine his arm. “Little bitch,”
he pants, spitting down on Izumi, then wrapping a hand around himself, stroking
quickly, aiming at Izumi’s face. “I’ll see to it that you remember the House of
Karn.”
With the breath completely kicked out of him, Izumi can barely hear anything
but the thud of his pulse in his ears, but that name sticks with him even as he
curls into a ball, coughing and wheezing. House of Karn. It echoes in his mind,
and Izumi sucks in a shallow, shuddering breath.
The hot, wet splatter on his face makes him recoil with a hiss, but Izumi
doesn’t waste his energy with twisting away. He just flinches, breathing in
shallowly, and only cracks his eyes open after he doesn’t feel another drop hit
his skin. “No wonder you can’t knock her up,” he rasps, his head lolling back
as he tries to suck in a full breath. “Too used to your own hand?”
Lord Karn’s face changes, from sick pleasure to something devoid of reason,
twisted and enraged to a killing point, and only one prescient guard running in
to grab him by the arm saves Izumi’s life. “Milord,” the man says firmly,
pulling back, “the Duke promised no mercy to any who killed him before paying
the blood price. Karn needs you, Milord.”
Karn’s chest heaves, and he shakes off the man’s hand, disgust and something
darker, something hollow, flaring in his eyes. “You’re on half rations from now
on,” he spits to his guard, and fetches Izumi a last kick before he storms out,
slamming the cell door, then the outer door.
“Y’shouldn’t mention her Ladyship,” the guard snarls, grabbing Izumi by the
hair just to let go, letting his head smack against the ground again.
“Milord’ll bid higher on your blood price now. Karn needs that money.”
Izumi growls disinterestedly at that, blinking to clear his vision when it
starts spinning anew. “Take off this shitty collar and I’ll pay your way out of
Karn,” he hoarsely breathes, his head tipping backwards. “Or whatever you
want.” That burning, melting pain still persists, and it’s so much that he
wants to close his eyes and just sleep.
The man’s lips curl back from his teeth. “If I had the coin, I’d pay your blood
price for Milord myself,” he snarls. “Milady died whelping your bastard.”
With that, he slams and locks the cell door, leaving Izumi alone in the
cold...for now.
Being left alone with that doesn’t make the next hour go any faster.
There’s maybe half a dozen others, all with that notch in their ear, none of
which Izumi really remembers. Even if he did remember them, he wouldn’t right
now. His vision starts to go in favor of being black at the edges, and ah,
that’s never a good sign.
After awhile, the pain of that stone against his neck just leaves him a
shivering mess, nullifying whatever else is done to him. Some of them just want
to kick him until he’s coughing blood, others want to shove their cock wherever
it’ll fit, others still want to cut him and just see him bleed.
Still, his body won’t stop trying to heal itself, and so death, which Izumi
thinks would be a polite end to this, honestly, alludes him. None of these men
offer up knowledge about their wives or bastards, but maybe that’s because he
keeps his mouth shut, for the most part.
It’s some time until he hears another pair of boots outside of his cell, and
Izumi feels his teeth bare instinctively, his knees drawing up closer to his
chest from where he curls against the floor.
“My, my,” Duke Rodan murmurs, looking down at Izumi’s pathetic form. “This is
the mighty Northern tomcat, hmm? You look more like a stray someone left out in
the rain. Smell worse, though.”
He removes a flask from his jacket, taking a neat sip, then recapping it and
tucking it away. “I’d offer you a drink, but it seems a waste to throw away on
a treasonous dead man.”
Izumi’s lips curl. “Treasonous—that’s one I haven’t heard yet,” he mutters,
staring up at the Duke warily from underneath his lashes. “Considering the shit
you pulled to get me here, sir.”
“You were overheard,” Rodan says with a shrug. “I have sworn statements from
concerned soldiers who say they overheard you, your prince, and your Captain
speaking of wishing harm to your king, and supplanting him, throwing your
support behind the prince to advance your station. What is that, if not
treason?”
“So hang me. Flog me to death.” Izumi’s eyes narrow to slits as he tries to
ignore the little twist of panic in his gut. Hopefully, Arashi didn’t get
caught up in this either—and gods, he hasn’t thought of Leo for hours, maybe
they just left him for dead and his healing worked. “Did it piss you off so
much that I didn’t want to climb on your dick, sir? I found a few better
swordsmen to do that with, thanks.”
“If you wish it,” Rodan says mildly, “I’ll deliver you to the king’s justice
instead. You and your compatriots. Many of your Captain’s inner circle will
need to be interrogated for sincerity, of course. Your mother and your Northern
attendants as well. This gives me no pleasure.” He cocks his head, looking down
at Izumi thoughtfully. “I almost wish it did.”
“Then what’s the point?” Izumi lowly presses, lowering his bound hands and
ignoring the strange, niggling jolt of pain down his shoulders and spine that
follows. “If you wanted me dead, you’ve had your chance tenfold. Or did you
want to buy the right to slit my throat yourself?”
“Think it through, foolish boy. With your precious prince dead, I’ll inherit
the crown. You don’t only buy men’s loyalty by fucking them, and you don’t buy
it with coin. You buy it by giving them what they want. So instead of a
violent, shameful struggle for power, your prince dies in an accident, you go
missing in your grief, and the country stays strong in the eyes of our enemies.
I pad my coffers, and twenty of my most loyal men remember that I gave them the
vengeance they sought. And not for nothing, I would prefer not to see my nephew
subjected to the sort of torture they reserve for traitors.”
“So instead you’ve given me a list of every man to kill, and a list of every
house to be wary of for the rest of my life,” Izumi breathes, his head slowly
tilting back to knock against the wall he huddles against. “Thank you, sir.
That delights me.”
“Nonsense. You won’t escape. I won’t bore you by telling you of the
fortifications on this place.” Rodan takes another sip from his flask. “A good
man would admit his crimes and beg for the noose.”
“A good man wouldn’t’ve killed his nephew. If you questioned my loyalty, then
it’s me you should’ve killed and left him out of it.”
Rodan looks down at Izumi, with something very like pity in his eyes. “Was it
your idea, or his? Or that Captain--he isn’t my interest, but he’s made his own
enemies, and they have their own ideas of how to dispose of him. Perhaps they
already have. Which of you was it, that planted the seed of treason first? Why?
He is not a bad king.”
“Talking about how we don’t approve of the king and some of the shit he doesn’t
isn’t treason,” Izumi abruptly snaps, though the sudden temper behind the words
makes him shudder as his body rebels with a twanging, agonized lurch. “None of
us were seeking his death, least of all the prince. If you think any of us
would have raised a blade against the king, you’re stupider than I ever thought
you were.”
“This,” Rodan says, shaking his head, “is why you would have made a piss-poor
Kingsguard. We have witnesses, sworn soldiers, who swear they heard you say
that everything would be better if the king were dead. Sowing this dissent is
treasonous, whether you raised a blade to him or not. What do they teach pages
these days?”
“And yet I never fucking disobeyed him, did I? If he handed down an order, I
followed it, didn’t I?” The sharp sting of tears makes his vision blur, and
Izumi slinks back, shaking his head. “The prince never said those things. I
stand by that. He never once fucking said it, and you killing him was
pointless.A bloody loss.” He lifts his head, his eyes glittering, too-blue with
his pupils still strange, narrow slits. “You’ll do good to make sure I’m dead.
I won’t stop coming for you if I’m not.”
“Threats, boy, are only effective if one can back them up. And at the very
least, my dear nephew listened to you, backed you, and promised you rewards
once the king was dead. You can dress it up as prettily as you want, but it is
treason.” Rodan’s mouth thins. “Your king plucked you from obscurity and
allowed you, a bastard half-breed, to study alongside the great hopes of the
realm. Do you feel no gratitude to him?”
“I didn’t kill him even though I thought the realm would’ve been better off
with him dead.” Izumi’s gaze doesn’t waver. “I protected his son with my life,
every step of the way. That’s my gratitude.”
Rodan’s face twists in distaste. “Thank you. You’ve firmed my resolution. I’ll
admit, I paled at the idea of what would be done to you. I thought you were a
good, intelligent, dutiful boy, even after I learned that you were a foolish
one for rejecting my offer. But I see now that you don’t have a shred of
loyalty beyond what you can put your cock into.”
He finishes his flask, then nods to Izumi. “Farewell, Izumi of the Sena house.”
“If that’s what you think of me…then I’m glad I rejected you.” Izumi’s eyes lid
before he allows them to slide shut, a long, heaving sigh escaping his chest.
“I’m exhausted. Kill me already.”
“Plead for the noose if you want death. Otherwise, I’ll let the rest of the men
keep bidding on you. When the price runs down enough, I’ll offer your death as
a prize.”
Izumi’s lips purse. “I did nothing wrong,” he quietly maintains. “Fuck you and
fuck your men.” Maybe, maybe, the longer they’re entertained with him, the
longer Arashi can figure something out—or the more likely Leo will be okay,
or…anything, honestly. “You’ll regret not selling off my death sooner.”
Rodan pauses before leaving, then says quietly, “Your wizards said something
similar.” Then, he leaves, letting the heavy door swing shut behind him.
 
***** Chapter 12 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
Rei, first and foremost, is a wizard.
On the side, he dabbles in gardening.
It’s a cheerful sort of market to be in, especially in the desert. No one
expects a vendor of flowers, and also, no one pays them any mind, unless you’re
a whore looking to lure men, or a man, looking to lure a whore.
It keeps his eyes open to a great deal as well.
Rei can smell the blood behind the bar before he sees men leaving the scuffle,
a silver-haired boy tossed over the shoulder of one of them. This time, it’s a
strange scent. It smells less like the kind of blood seeping from an open wound
by the minute, and more like blood that has stopped surging outward, and
instead, seems intent on desperately regenerating.
Interesting.
 He casually wheels his flower cart over towards the alleyway. It’s empty now,
except for the small, slight bundle tucked in a corner, and a single man still
standing guard. “Oi,” the man snaps, and Rei can see how nervous he is, can
smell it, by the way his pulse jumps and leaps, his hand already on his sword.
“Move along.”
The little shock of orange hair that peeps out from the bundle makes Rei’s eyes
lid as he smiles. “Would you like to buy a flower, sir?”
The alleyway is empty after that, his stomach is full, and the tell-tale orange
shock of hair left behind is certainly not the same shock of hair that was left
before.
***** Chapter 13 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
The underground of Otogari desert castle is deep and cool and lined in wall-to-
wall stone, all magicked to the nth degree to both suppress and shelter.
Rei basks in that.
The pallet in the corner is fit for the prince sleeping upon it, draped in
heavy velvet for warmth in the chill of the basement room. Rei watches, turning
the pages of his book slowly, his legs crossed at the ankle as he stretches out
on a chaise next to him. It’s like watching a sick animal. Being fascinated in
how he heals is one thing, but ah, it’s a delicate thing, when the prince
sleeps the sleep of the dead, but isn’t dead, and only seems to keep recovering
at a rapid rate.
“What the fuck have you done now.”
The low, growling voice of one Koga, son of the Wolf King in the North, stirs
Rei into tilting his head backwards, blinking over the arm of the chaise. “Ah.
Koga. So you’ve found me—“
“Damn right we’ve found you.” Koga folds his arms over his chest, looking far
more at home in the traditional draping, cream-colored muslins of the desert.
He blends well with his tanned skin, and it’s only the dark grey of his hair
that seems out of place. “The whole Sandlands are in a lockdown at this
point—because of him.”
The jab of his fingertip in the sleeping young man’s direction makes Rei smile.
“So I’ve learned. Ah, it was a shock to me, too. I had no idea who he was,
prior to getting a real glimpse of that hair of his.”
Koga exhales a long, frustrated breath. “He’s supposed to be dead.”
“Well, he isn’t, is he?”
Koga’s mouth twists into a scowl, and he sniffs the air, once, twice. “Your
magic is still sealed properly.”
“Mm. I didn’t have to do a thing.”
“I don’t like that.” Koga leans over the prince, scowling. “It smells weird.”
“I think it’s interesting. Ahh, keep your voice down, he’s going to wake up at
this rate.”
Koga’s grip is white-knuckled on his own arms. “You have to stay down here,” he
says after a moment, his voice lower. “You’re not the only one stirring shit up
now. The necromancer—he raised hell, and so did your…” He trips over the word,
the proper address, and Rei stares back at him, eyebrows raised until Koga
manages it, with a struggle and a dark flush to his face. “Your consort.”
“I know.”
“Don’t sound so calm about it! Everything’s moving too fast.”
“Why don’t you go and get some dinner for him, hmm? For when he wakes up.”
Koga wavers, scowling again, and he turns on his heel unhappily. “If you get
yourself killed, this is all over.” The door slams shut, and Rei sighs,
shutting his book.
“Well, little prince,” he murmurs, leaning down to gently comb Leo’s hair back
from his face. “I better not get myself killed then, hmm?”
Leo stirs, and wishes he hadn’t.
No, the wakefulness is worth the pain, that’s important. If he doesn’t wake, he
can’t change anything, and he won’t be able to help anyone, won’t be able to
prove himself, won’t be able to find--
Izumi.
 He bolts upright, that name on his tongue despite the pain, and looks around,
wild-eyed. He finally sights on the man above him, and blinks, stupefied.
“Koray? Where am I? Where’s Izumi?”
“Hmm? Ah, that’s his name,” Rei, also known as Koray, idly remarks, sitting
back to give Leo space. “Don’t worry, you’re safe, little prince.” He leans
back onto his pillows, chin in hand. “Your friend, Izumi? I’m still looking
into that.”
That isn’t the answer Leo wants. He struggles up, feeling a burning pain in his
throat, clutching at it and feeling a healing scar. That’s...not good. If Izumi
had been near, he’d have healed him immediately, there’s never been a scar.
“Someone--took him, tried to kill me?”
“I’m afraid I’m a bit shaky on the details as well, Your Highness. By the time
I reached you, your assailants were gone, and I believe your friend as well.
Obviously he jump-started the healing process before he was taken, or you
would’ve been very dead.” Rei’s head tilts. “It’s a strange ability. Useful,
though.”
Taken. The word sinks into Leo’s chest like a stone through water, and he
throws off the heavy velvets, belatedly reaching up to see if his hair is
covered. It isn’t, and he scowls. “How long have you known?”
Rei beams at him. “Until I found you in an alleyway, Your Highness, which
was…mm, a day or so ago? I lose track of time down here.”
“And you haven’t been out looking for Izumi?” Leo demands impractically,
standing up and finding his body not entirely pleased with him. Too bad. “I’ll
need to contact my father, do you know anyone with access to a messenger bird?”
“Your Highness, it’s not safe for you to leave right now. In fact, you’ll need
to be smuggled out of this city, if you want to survive to search for your
friend.”
Rei lifts his head as Koga steps back downstairs, carrying a tray of food, and
he smiles, waving a hand. “Sit down, Your Highness. You should eat something to
get your strength back up.”
“He’s awake already?” Koga incredulously asks, scowling at Leo. “The fuck are
you made of?”
“That’s rude, be nice. Your Highness, this is my friend, Koga.”
“Your friend,” Leo says slowly, nodding to the other man. “That’s fine. But who
are you, really?”
“That’s such a prying question,” Rei complains, slumping backwards with a long
sigh. “Ah~h, Koga, I’m tired, I’m hungry—“
“You sound like your shitty little brother, stop it,” Koga snaps, walking over
to set the tray down next to Leo. “You’re not doing anyone any favors if you
don’t heal up while you can,” he bluntly says. “Sit down and eat and I’ll tell
you what we’ve found out so far.”
Leo subsides, grabbing a date roll and stuffing it in his mouth, glaring as he
chews. “Please. Tell me, I’m--I can’t be safe if he’s suffering for me, I
can’t.”
Koga grunts, sitting down on the floor, legs folded up. “Officially,” he says,
smacking away Rei’s hand when it reaches for his hair to pet it, “you’re dead,
Your Highness. And your friend is missing.”
Leo looks between the two of them, suspicious. “And you are? Officially, as you
said?”
Koga spares a glance back at Rei, and Rei sighs, shrugging with a flutter of
his hand. “Officially? I’m a delight.”
“Officially, he’s a fucking nuisance, but—“ Koga scowls, annoyed. “You did save
his stupid life, I guess, so we’re returning the favor. He’s completely
helpless when he’s all sealed up like this.”
“Like a real old man!”
“I’m Koga, son of the Wolf King in the North,” Koga proudly says, then his eyes
slit as he glances back to Rei again. “And he’s Rei, first son of the Sakuma
household, King of Demons and a wizard of the highest order.”
Leo’s jaw drops. It isn’t often that he’s truly surprised, but this is
something of a special case. “You’re...the Demon King of the Shadowlands,” he
says slowly, repeating it to see if it sounds less crazy when he says it aloud.
Nope, it still is. “That’s....so....”
His eyes light up. “Cool! I studied you! Ah, wait, no, it’s cool that you’re
the Wolf Prince, too--of the Lost Line? Ahhh, I’m surrounded by legends!!”
Rei and Koga slowly exchange a glance, then Rei sighs, shrugging, obviously
delighted. “Look how cute he is,” he says with a smile. “This is why I like
him.”
“You’re the worst,” Koga sighs, though he does appreciate the nice rub to his
ego. “Anyway, yeah. That’s who we are. You’re in good hands, kid.”
“He calls you that, but he’s a baby, too,” Rei whispers, leaning forward as if
Koga can’t hear him. “But he’s right, you’re in his strong, wonderful paws—“
“I’ll kill you,” Koga growls, shaking his head. “Anyway. You’re dead,” he
reminds Leo. “You can’t go running around like you own the place anymore. There
was a coup, from the looks of it. Whatshisface, Captain Arashi of the Sharps?
He was detained for questioning as well, but then—“
“Then a scary little necromancer decided that was no good. Troublesome, but
romantic, so I like that.” Rei’s eyes lid. “It’s a huge mess, to be honest. I
wish I knew what became of your friend, but…”
“By the looks of it, he’s been labeled a traitor to the crown.” Koga’s jaw is
tense. “You need to expect the worst, Your Highness.”
All of the air leaves Leo’s lungs. His world spins, and the aftertaste of dates
turns to ash in his mouth. Arashi--detained. Mika--using his forbidden powers,
doubtless with the Academy hunters on his trail. Shu--who knows? And Izumi...
“This is all my fault,” he groans, head falling into his hands. They’re cold to
the touch, the way he feels inside. and his stomach churns. “I should...I
should just turn myself in, say I was the ringleader. If they’ve convinced my
father...”
“What good will you dying do?” Rei swiftly interrupts, leaning over the side of
his chaise. “If they’ve convinced him, they’ve convinced him. What good will
you surrendering do? This kind of mess is exactly the reason why you need to
stay alive until you can take the throne. Wrap yourself back up in that
blanket, you’re still not able to maintain body temperature after losing that
much blood.”
“What good will hiding do?” Leo demands. “I don’t have an army. I’m not about
to kill my father. What can I do except try to trade myself for him? I...I
might not be killed. I might just be exiled. And if I can save him, that’s
worth anything.”
“Dumbass,” Koga mutters, stealing one of the meat buns off of Leo’s plate and
taking a huge bite out of it as he jabs a finger in Rei’s direction. “You don’t
need an army, you’ve got him.”
“Shh, puppy, you have to be polite.” Rei’s eyes lid. “I understand how you
feel, and I’m not telling you to kill your father. But you need to stay alive
until he can be dealt with accordingly…and if you rush out right now and get
yourself killed, you’re not going to be a help to anyone, least of all your
lover. Waiting is half the battle.”
“I never said he was my lover.”
“You never said he wasn’t.”
“I never said you weren’t my lover either, or Captain Arashi, or the baker
around the corner.”
“You smell like him,” Koga exasperatedly chimes in, rolling his eyes. “Like,
plain as day.”
“And I’ve never met a prince that cared about a page enough to trade his life
for him,” Rei hums, fluttering his hand. “But if you’d rather I not mention it
again, I can do that for you, Your Highness.”
“It isn’t legal,” Leo says with a scowl. “Don’t give them another reason to
despise us. Though I suppose with your own history, you’re no stranger to being
hunted by the crown. I may need to take some survival tips from you on that
point.”
He sits back, yanking the blanket onto his lap. “I’ll take your advice. What do
I do?”
“As if I’d say it around anyone that mattered.” Rei looks pleased, though, and
he actually bothers sitting up, folding his hands in his lap. “You trust me,
that’s what you do.”
“There really...isn’t anything else I can do, is there?” Leo asks, quiet and
unhappy. He runs through possibilities in his mind, and none of them end in him
being happy, safe, healthy, and still with Izumi.
Well, then maybe it’s time to trust someone who has a history of defying the
odds, and creating his own probabilities. “You escaped the Academy for a
hundred years. How?”
“Knowing how to hide in plain sight.” Rei’s head tilts. “Ah, but specifics, I
suppose. My magic is completely sealed. To anyone, I feel like a completely
normal human, you see. There’s a downside, of course. I’m completely helpless
like this—so when you rescued me on the side of the road, that was legitimate.”
Leo’s mouth twists. “I was really hoping it was a more esoteric and useful
answer, you know. Oh...you said the necromancer. What happened to the wizards,
and Captain Arashi?”
“I think it was a useful answer! Mmnn…” Rei hesitates, leaning back slightly.
“My consort decided to take matters into his own hands as well. Ah, I can’t
blame him. That does mean that the Captain and the little necromancer are both
safe for now—as is Shu.” His eyes lid as he glances down at Koga. “Have you had
any luck in sniffing them out?”
“Nope.”
Rei’s relief is obvious. “Good. If the puppy can’t sniff them out, no one can.
Ah, except me.”
Wheels turn in Leo’s head, and he thinks, examining facts and probabilities.
“It’s possible one of them betrayed us, you know. I don’t know them very well.
But more likely, it’s Specs. Do you know who he is?”
“Shu and Mika would never betray me. The Captain…mmm, he has a blood pact on
him, he can’t say a word. But Keito…I know who he is, and I find him delightful
in his own way, but I don’t trust him.” Rei shifts restlessly. “As soon as
we’re out of this city, I’ll need to open up at least a couple of channels. I
dislike the idea of Shu running around unattended.”
“I’m amazed you’ve waited this long,” Koga crossly mutters. “At least wait
until I finish sniffing for that weird page.” /I lost his scent an hour ago./
/Did you? Unfortunate, don’t say that out loud./ “Then by the time you’re
finished, we’ll be ready to leave. I have allies in a number of places, Your
Highness. I’ll see you to the throne…ah, so long as you return these favors
later, of course.”
At that, Leo’s eyes narrow. “I’m not my father. I won’t get my throne by
promising favors along the way. If all you want is payback for a coup, I’ll
take my leave now and take my chances with the Inquisitors.”
“You haven’t even heard what I was about to propose. Honestly, what a bratty
child.” Rei’s fingers curl over his knees, drumming slowly. “All I want is some
revisions to the Academy’s laws about wizards. That’s all.”
“The king isn’t in charge of the Academy,” Leo recites dutifully. “He can
influence policy, but the final decisions about wizard assignments and
regulations are up to the Academy. You used to be a wizard, you should know
that.”
“You know what I need from you, then. Influence them. Firmly. With the proper
penalties handed out if they don’t comply. I won’t support another king that
allows them to run amuck and treat us like slaves.”
“If you’ve been talking to your wizards, you know I support reform in the
regulation of wizards,” Leo says firmly. “And it isn’t because it’s a favor to
anyone, it’s because it’s right. I want to be the kind of king who gives every
citizen a fair chance at success and happiness, including wizards, citizens,
knights, and those who would be slaves. If you’re not happy, it should be your
fault, not the king’s!”
“If you keep that sort of passion, then you and I won’t have any issues.” Rei
climbs to his feet, dragging his own blanket with him. “And if you keep your
word on that, then I’ll kneel at your feet. But I’ll warn you now, child,” he
breathes, his eyes glowing a low, glittering red. “If for some reason you go
back on these pretty words of yours, I won’t lie in waiting a second longer. I
didn’t used to be a wizard—I still am one.”
“Easy, old man,” Koga murmurs from his spot on the floor. “You’re getting
cranky because you’re hungry.”
“Ahhh, you’re right, I should take a nap.” Rei smiles, the sharp tips of his
fangs flashing. “Puppy, come with me, I’ll pet you.”
“Screw you,” Koga sighs, climbing to his feet and dusting himself off. “Stay
put, Your Highness. You still smell weak.”
***** Chapter 14 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
It’s been nearly a week since the capture. That was terrifying, but somewhat
exhilarating, finally using his powers for something besides the wearying troop
movements of the army, besides the obnoxious, tiring task of pinpointing
Berserkers and artillery for the archers. It feels good to flex his powers, to
prove once and for all that he is worthy of being a Nightcloak, of tossing
power around with the best and highest echelons of the world, only four others
worthy of standing at his side. It’s glorious...
And when the telltale scent of flowers fills the air, it’s nothing short of
utterly terrifying.
There was a time that the smell of roses would have made Shu perk up, certain
he was about to see a friend. Now, it’s nothing short of mind-numbing horror,
as he whisks Mika and Arashi to another location, slamming a seal over their
powers--a shoddy job, but effective--and dragging them down to an unoccupied
basement.
And once they’re there, he drags a blanket over his head, starts shivering, and
promptly collapses.
“Should we...move him?” Arashi asks softly, looking down at the huddled form
that had obviously saved them all. He’s battered, beaten, with all his exposed
skin showing bruises and cuts, but he’s alive, staring between Shu and Mika.
Mika’s display of his “lil ghosties” had been utterly horrifying, but almost
awesome to watch, ripping the roof off the place Arashi had been held, painting
the walls with the blood and brains of his captors.
“No.”
Mika wobbles where he stands, pulling his own robes tight around himself,
shivering. He prods tentatively at the seal, making sure it’s strong, even
though he knows it is. Nerves and paranoia make him second guess everything.
“He just needs to stay like that, he’ll come out when he’s feelin’ better,”
Mika murmurs, biting his lip as he looks Arashi over, but doesn’t meet his
eyes. “That was really close. Like…” So close I don’t want to think about it.
Arashi reaches out, almost pets Mika’s head, then thinks better of it, letting
it fall to his lap. Every part of him aches, though he hadn’t broken any bones,
hadn’t taken any lasting damage, when he’s pretty sure the beating they’d given
him would have broken most people’s bones. Well, he’s always been hardy; what’s
the good of it if not something like this?
Mika, though...he’s different. He’s special. He doesn’t take beatings and
horrors in stride. The wrong word, the wrong thing, and Mika might just give up
for good, after all he’d done. “Well...if there’s something I can do to help,
him or you, let me know. I hate being useless, ugh.”
The second Arashi doesn’t pet his head, Mika bursts into tears.
“I knew it, I knew it, you’d hate me if y’saw them like that, I knew you’d hate
me!” Mika trembles, recoiling, throwing himself down next to Shu with a sob.
He’s already overstimulated and overwhelmed, and he can’t think, he can’t, and
the idea that Arashi hates him—“I’m s-s-sorry, I just really w-wanted y’to be
safe, this is my fault, I—“
Arashi, flabbergasted, just stares for a long minute. Then his soldier’s
instincts kick in, and he dashes to Mika’s side, grabbing his shoulder with too
much force, yanking him upright, crushing him to his chest. “No, darling,
darling, I don’t hate--I could never hate you, I love it when you use your
magic, I wish I could see it all the time, I swear, I’ve dreamed about it for
over a decade, you’re perfect--”
Mika trembles for a long moment, unmoving against Arashi’s chest except for
that, before he lurches in Arashi’s arms, clinging desperately to his waist,
burying his face hard into his shoulder. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispers,
shaking with every breath. “I…I need you to be okay, I need it, you c-can’t
leave me, I won’t let anyone hurt you, I swear, I swear.”
“I know, beloved, I know, all right? I’ve--I’ve always known it.”
Arashi strokes his hair, holding him so close he hears aching bones creak,
sucking in a deep breath. “I was there. Here. When you bloomed. I came running,
and one of your beasts, it saw me, and it just...”
The memory is so strong. He’s never spoken of it like this, never said what
he’s always known, aloud. “There were so many people who died. But it just
walked up, and looked at me, and...walked by.”
Mika’s chest heaves. His fingers fist against Arashi’s back, but he slowly
stops crying, the noises softening to little, hiccuping breaths. “T…that’s
because Arashi’s mine, always been mine,” he whispers, and he sags, his knees
finally wobbling and giving out. “We’re stuck here,” he says, dangling from
Arashi’s arms. “Master’s seal is too strong. No one can find us. But we
can’t…we can’t leave, either.”
But there’s no food. But the longer we stay put, the higher chance they’ll find
us.Arashi doesn’t say any of that, just petting Mika gently. “I’ve never been
afraid of you,” he says instead. “Never. Not once in my life. And I never will
be.”
Mika hiccups again, then nods, slowly relaxing underneath Arashi’s touch. He
still trembles occasionally, but he doesn’t hold on quite as tight, as
desperately. “My lil’ ghosties know you,” he murmurs. “So that’s…that’s good.
Nnn…you’re…you’re the best, kara. Ahh…but I dunno what to do…Master’s really
not feelin’ good…”
“So...when he’s not feeling good, what makes him feel better?” Arashi asks,
trying to work through it. “Do you have to distract him with puzzles, or
something? I knew a kid who had fits like this, you had to sing his favorite
song a bunch of times...”
Mika slowly shakes his head. “You jus’ have to leave him alone.” He hesitates.
“Unless you’re the King of Demons. Then y’can do whatever and he feels better.
Maybe he’ll find us…maybe.”
“You said no one could find us?”
“He could. Even Master can’t stop his magic.” Mika bites at his lower lip.
“But…but he keeps himself sealed up these days, Master says. So he might not be
able to look for us right now.”
“If he even knows he needs to,” Arashi says with a sigh. “Where...” He looks
around the basement, investigating the color of the dirt, the placement of the
building from what he can see. “We’re not in the Sandlands anymore, are we? The
walls are damp. And we can’t be in the Harbors, they don’t have cellars. Where
did your master snatch us?”
“…Dunno,” Mika wearily admits, continuing to dangle from Arashi’s neck.
“Somewhere that felt safe to him. The smell of roses…” He shivers hard. “That’s
the worst. That means…that means they’ve sent the strongest hunter of ‘em all
after you. We got real close back there. The only good thing ‘bout that
is…well…if he knows, then the King of Demons knows. Probably.”
A shiver runs up Arashi’s spine. “I don’t know that much about famous wizards,”
he admits. “Just the ones I used to deliver letters to. I don’t think any of
them were hunters. What’s this one like?”
“Scary.” Mika shakes his head, and tugs on the mussed ends of Arashi’s hair.
“So scary. He’s a Nightcloak, like Master is. But he’s…nnhh.” He shakes his
head firmly again. “He reports directly to th’ High Emperor. Illusions, he
makes the scariest illusions I’ve ever seen, it’s so scary how real they are,
it’s how he lures everyone in and traps ‘em and I…I’ve never experienced it
myself or anythin’, but I’ve heard stories.”
Arashi ponders that for a few long moments. Facing an enemy in battle is easy,
compared to facing one that’s slowly stalking him. This...this feels like
trying to sleep during a war, knowing that at any moment, a catapult or magical
blast could rip through the camp and end his life, and he’d have no idea it was
coming. “But your master--he’s a Nightcloak too, right? They’re supposed to be
able to do damn near anything, right? So, we’re being chased by someone who can
also do anything. Can we fight him? We’ve got you, and your Master, and me...”
“You’ll be useless, kara,” Mika quietly says, burying his face into Arashi’s
neck. “Humans are useless against wizards like that. And Nightcloaks against
other Nightcloaks…that’s jus’ bad. Things can cancel out, but sometimes, it’s a
matter of who’s mentally stronger and…” He hesitates. “Master, he’s…he’s scared
of this one, too.”
“I’ve seen your master vaporize an entire encampment of Inglings, when he’s
feeling good.” The idea of something that Shu is scared of makes Arashi’s
stomach lurch. “What about you? Maybe if your Master can distract him or
whatever, or at least keep him busy, you can use your...ghosties?”
“No.” Mika bites his lip. “He’s…he jus’ breaks ‘em in half. He has the High
Emperor’s blessin’, nothin’ I can do about that.”
“Okay, so we can’t beat him.” Arashi isn’t entirely sure about the truth of
that, but Mika seems sure, and if it comes to it, Arashi has never met a wizard
that didn’t die when poked enough by sharp steel. Well, that’ll have to be up
to him, then. “How long can we hide? Will he get bored and stop looking if we
avoid using magic for long enough?”
“…Maybe,” Mika hedges. “But…the thing is…he’s like a bloodhound, y’know? He’s
got our magical signature now. He’ll stop, but if he smells us again, he’ll
show up. It might be a day, it might be a week, it might only be a second, but
he’ll be there. Unless the King of Demons finds us first…then he might be able
to get us somewhere safer.” Mika spares a nervous glance over to Shu. “Maybe if
he jus’ lifted the seal for a second…”
Arashi sits back. This doesn’t sound good. “Your Master...” He spares a look at
Shu, huddled, curled onto his side, shuddering. “How long can he keep the seal
in place?”
“…Longer than you’d think.”
Mika slowly unwinds himself from Arashi to pad his way over to Shu, and drops
back down next to him, kneeling next to his side. “Master,” he quietly tries,
not lifting the blanket from Shu’s head. “Master…I’ve got an idea, but I dunno
if it’s a good one, can you hear me?”
Dextrous fingers emerge, slowly pulling the blanket away from Shu’s pale,
sweating face. He darts his eyes around the room, then slowly sits up,
hiccuping slightly. “Y-yes, what is it?”
“If the Faerie knows, then the King of Demon knows,” Mika quietly points out,
slowly, carefully reaching out to pet the top of Shu’s head. “That means he
might be looking. He might unseal himself for you, don’t you think? So maybe…if
you let the seal flicker, just for a second…” 
A tear spills out of Shu’s eye, and he squeezes them shut firmly. “I
need...Milady.”
Arashi looks around, but he already knows the answer. “She’s...she’s not here.”
Mika flaps a hand firmly, urging Arashi tohush!“We’ll get her, as soon as we’re
somewhere safer, yeah?” he gently presses. “Master—please, y’know even if the
Faerie shows up, him and Rei won’t fight. You gotta reach for him, somehow or
another.”
“Don’t be stupid, you utter failure. I can’t risk losing you, use your useless
head!”
“Master, I’m not lettin’ you die!” The words are snapped out with more force
than Arashi has probably ever heard Mika talk to Shu with, and he reaches out,
snatching Shu up by the shoulders. “But we’re gonna, if we sit here! I…I can’t
let you die, or Arashi, so you gotta help, too, b-but I can’t do it, I’m not
strong enough.” Stinging tears make his eyes ache, and Mika blinks hard,
sniffling. “W-we can’t stay here forever. I…I don’t know what else t’do.”
“D-don’t be ridiculous,” Shu whispers, a trace of his old arrogance flaring,
despite how shaken he looks. “I can keep this seal up forever if I have to.
I’ll just, we’ll keep hiding, it’s fine.”
“I hate hiding,” Arashi mutters.
“No one asked you, you muscle-bound brute!”
“That’s no way to talk to a lady!”
“Stop it!” Mika huffs, scrubbing at his eyes with one shaky hand. “Both of you!
Master, unless you’ve got a better idea, I’m gonna step outta the seal and drag
them here myself! Arashi’s right, we can’t keep hidin’, we…we gotta do
somethin’, or we’ll have to keep doin’ this forever and…and I can’t, it’s too
scary to not know what’s gonna happen, or when someone’s gonna come and…I
can’t.”
“Just--be quiet,” Shu snaps, chest heaving as he tries not to panic. “I’m
already working on it, all right? I’m just--I need to formulate a flare so my
lord will know it’s me, and know it’s urgent.”
His hand shakes as he brushes the hair back from his face. “He might be asleep,
though. And if he is, that damned winged menace will hear me so much faster,
even if I’m not speaking to him...”
“But it’s night, right?” Mika bites at his lip again, worrying it until it
hurts. “He’s always awake at night. Ahh, I’m sorry, Master, I…I know you know
what’s best, but I just, I…” After what happened to Arashi, this is so much
scarier than I even imagined it to be.
“Use your head, fool, he could be hibernating,” Shu snaps. “He told me he slept
through the entire Water Dominance War. But...I don’t feel like he is.”
He wipes a hand down his face, then squares his shoulders, sitting up straight.
“Well. Get ready to run. If you call your beasts, you can at least hide your
own escape, if this goes spectacularly pear-shaped.”
Arashi stands, tugging Mika up by the arm. “I’ll carry you,” he promises. “No
one is faster than I am.”
Mika huffs, the nods, latching himself back to Arashi. “I’ll…I’ll hide all of
us,” he quietly swears. “And if it goes bad, we can just hide again for good.
Until it’s safer.”
Shu’s eyes flick up, catching Mika’s. “Promise me now,” he says quietly,
switching his gaze to Arashi, “that you’ll take him and go.”
“Your Excellency, I’m not leaving without--”
“If this goes wrong and the Faerie finds me before my lord does,” Shu
interrupts, “my life is forfeit. At least let me know that no matter what, Mika
will survive. Or I won’t do it.”
Mika hesitates visibly, but he swallows, glancing down. “…Your lord won’t let
that happen,” he quietly says. “So. Yes. I promise.” He has to believe in
that—he has to, because everything he’s ever seen and felt, everything Shu has
ever told him…that proves it, but…putting it to the test is something else
entirely.
Shu nods, satisfied, and his trembling stops. He stands, breathing deeply, face
settling into an expression that’s more at peace than he has been for years.
The world feels flat and stale without his magic, void of the life and
liveliness he’s used to seeing everywhere. Another deep breath--another sight
of Mika, the one unadulterated good thing he’s saved in his life--and he drops
the seal.
/My lord. Find me. I’m here./
 He doesn’t bother adding anything else. Rei will know that he wouldn’t send
such a message unless his situation is dire.
Everything happens at once, and even clinging to Arashi makes the world feel
like it suddenly tilts on its axis.
The sudden surge of power that sweeps around them feels almost like wind, and
from the soggy earth sprouts every little flower that has laid dormant for gods
know how long, bursting up through the basement floor to make the room suddenly
that much more green. The ground shudders, the walls creak, and just as
suddenly as Shu lifts his own seal, something else replaces it—ironclad and
deafening, leaving them in such absolute, intense silence that makes Mika
wince, his face buried into Arashi’s chest.
“I thought you would never ask, love.”
The King of Demon’s voice is as soft and low as Mika remembers it, and it’s not
in shadow that he raises himself, but from behind Shu, draping a silvery,
shimmery cloak lined in red velvet around his shoulders. Rei smiles, his eyes
lidded, glowing red behind the long waves of pitch black hair that frames his
face and pool down his back, sharply contrasting with the long, cream-colored
coat that he’s wrapped in. “You’re a mess, Shu.”
The relief that infuses every drop of Shu’s blood is akin to an opiate, it’s so
powerful. He turns, choking back an embarrassing noise, and rests his hands
lightly on Rei’s chest. It doesn’t feel real, that Rei is here after so long,
that kindly look in his eyes, that Rei’s powerful magic is giving his frazzled
mind a rest, that he can feel the heat of Rei’s body. The cloak soothes him,
though not as much as Rei’s presence, easing away the ills of his mind as he
shudders. “Yes. Well. That’s your fault for being gone so long, obviously.”
A joyful cacophony of bells suddenly splits the air--bells as large as houses,
so loud the basement floor shakes. “My old friend!” The merry voice echoes
through the entire town, magically amplified. “It will be so much more amazing
fun if you show your face!”
“So noisy,” Rei mutters, sweeping his own cloak around Shu in kind, blanketing
him as he drags him close with a firm arm around his waist. “Come here, little
bird,” he adds, crooking a finger towards Mika. “Bring your soldier.”
Mika hesitates visibly, but he clings to Arashi’s arm still, giving it a shaky
tug. The sound of the Faerie’s voice makes his knees knock together, freezing
him in place from fear. “I…”
“We can’t stay here. Ah, he won’t fight me, but he will certainly think more
than twice about the rest of you.” Rei tips Shu’s chin up with a gentle thumb
against it. “If I send you three away, can you do the rest? I’ll handle him.”
Shu leans into Rei’s touch, melting as a flower to the sun, eyelids heavy. “I
can do anything, if you’re close,” he says softly, nodding, folding himself
into Rei’s embrace after such an achingly long time. “Where are we going? Do I
need to have a veil up immediately, or will a seal suffice?”
“High Harbor. I’d rather have all of you stashed in one place while I figure
out how to best manage all of this.” Rei exhales a slow breath, briefly
shutting his eyes as he lets himself give into the urge to press a kiss to the
top of Shu’s head. He’s loathe to let him go, to send him anywhere, but in a
situation like this… “My holdings there are already heavily protected. Just
seal yourself in and wait for me where I lead you.”
Shu fists his hands in Rei’s shirt, grabbing firmly, though he doesn’t do
anything so crass as yank him down for a kiss. “If you make me wait another six
years,” he says, quite emphatically, “I will be extremely put out. Now--”
The bells ring again. In the distance, a child starts crying.
“Shuuu~uuu, my old friend! You must want to fight, or why summon me? I’ll
oblige you with delight! Ah, are you here?” A door crashes open--not their
door, not yet, but not far. “My apologies, madam!”
Rei grabs Shu’s face in his hands, kissing him hard when Shu won’t instigate
the same before shoving him back into both Mika and Arashi, cloak and all. “I
won’t make you wait—both of my princes are there, be kind to them,” he firmly
insists, and a sweeping blanket of shadow engulfs the three of them, scooping
them up and ripping them from the basement in short order.
Left on his own, Rei is far more at ease. He draws in a slow, calming breath,
folding his arms across his chest. “You’ve just missed him, I’m afraid,” he
calls back. “We can play instead, Wataru.”
There’s a pause, then the door to the basement shimmers, disappearing for a
moment as a tall man in a black cloak strides through, long pale blue hair
shining in the morning light. His angular face is lit with first wary delight,
then slight disappointment. “You’ve robbed me of my prey, old friend. It won’t
stop me, but I’ll oblige you, if you want to play for now.”
“I robbed you of nothing you were allowed to have in the first place,” Rei
blithely says, the smile curling his lips wry. “You look well. Being so
deliciously cozied up to the High Emperor seems to treat you kindly.”
Wataru beams, tossing his hair back. “His High Excellency is ever thoughtful
when it comes to my treatment. He feeds his pets well, of course, and loves
none so much as I.” He looks around the basement, apparently quite pleased.
“Hmm. Shall we fight? I doubt either of us will win in any meaningful way, but
I will, if you wish it.”
“I’d rather not,” Rei forthrightly replies, stepping away from the wall and
drawing his own cloak more firmly about himself. “This little town doesn’t
deserve to be in that sort of peril, does it? Between the two of us, the entire
place would be brought back down to the ground.”
“Shall we adjourn to the skies?” Wataru asks merrily, looking up towards the
ceiling. “How are your wings these days, O Great Demon King? Ahh, Rei, I’ve
missed you so.”
“And I’ve missed you, Wataru.” Rei hesitates. Reasoning with Wataru is
something nigh impossible. He knows that, and yet… “But I won’t fight with you.
Now isn’t the time or place.”
Wataru, for once, pauses. He looks around at the little town, then unfolds his
wings, great gossamer creations that expand out behind him, filling the
basement before disappearing into the ether once more, ready to be called upon.
“I will not stop chasing them,” he warns softly. “It’s my sworn duty.”
“I know. I would expect nothing less from you. But you’ll be fighting me when
you’re finally fed up with chasing, I suppose, so you can look forward to
that.” Rei’s expression shifts to something far more disappointed. “Wataru…he
considered you a friend, you know.”
“And I him. I still do! Shu is a dear friend of mine, and one of the beings
closest to my heart in the world.” Wataru’s smile doesn’t waver, and the light
in his eyes doesn’t dim. “We all have our first loyalties, though, do we not?”
“First loyalties are one thing—“ Chasing down your friends, mowing them down
and defeating them and killing their loved ones for the sake of those
loyalties—how can you even call them your friends at that point?
 But Rei doesn’t say that, because there’s no point in trying to explain that
to Wataru, when Wataru probably can’t understand it. “…And you understand where
my loyalties are. Ahh, I should get going. You can follow me if you like, but
you know I won’t lead you to him…so how about you run back to your Emperor,
hmm?”
“I do languish when I am apart from my Emperor,” Wataru says with a sigh. It’s
a decent excuse, though not one he needs. “Rei...I hope it’s worth all this, in
the end. For all of us. And when we finally meet in glorious battle, may he
whose love is purest prevail!”
With that, he explodes into a shower of glittering light, slowly fluttering to
the basement floor, bells clanging in the atmosphere.
***** Chapter 15 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
The King of Demons has an estate, which is news to Mika.
It’s not a regular estate, of course. The entire place feels sealed down and
veiled from head to toe, which means they don’t have to be confined to a
basement with magicked walls. That’s comforting, but also scary, and Mika opts
for hiding in the room offered to him by the lady of the house (who is
definitely not a lady, but the only way he knows that is how he drops the act
around them, cursing and snarling about how he wants to go fight, why isn’t Rei
letting him do anything).
Eventually, Mika emerges, the desire to check on Shu—and maybe get a glimpse of
the prince—overwhelming his anxiety about being anywhere close to out in the
open. He half-expects those bells to start ringing again, for the Faerie to
leap out of the shadows, but that doesn’t happen, and Mika sighs as he slowly
relaxes, peering out of the wide, open windows that face the harbor. Hiding in
plain sight…Rei wasn’t wrong about that, but it’s been days now, and the fear
that something has happened to him won’t go away. Combining that with Arashi’s
own worries about Izumi makes his head ache.
“Hot cocoa?”
The voice is timid and gentle, coming from a tall man with thick glasses. His
hair is perpetually mussed, blue waves falling messily around his face as he
tries unsuccessfully to push them away. He wears no wizard’s cloak, but a
tailored suit such as one the nobility wear to informal meetings or markets,
and carries a steaming cup in each hand. A clinking sound accompanies him
wherever he walks, coming from the dangling bunch of talismans attached to his
belt, well-worn from being turned over and over in his hands. He holds out one
cup. “To calm the nerves.”
Mika turns, and the sudden, odd flare that reflects against his vision when he
looks at this man makes him wince. It’s gone in the next instant, however—it’s
peculiarly, automatically shielded, whatever it is. “Ahh…that would be nice,
Milord,” he murmurs warily. He’s sure that whoever Rei pays to maintain his
household is safe, but it still makes him nervous all the same. Most people do,
to be fair. “Um…you’re th’ lord of the house, r-right? I think I met your, ah,
wife, but…”
“Ah, I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself, how rude of me! I’m Tsumugi, ah,
you can call me by name.” The man gives an awkward bow, then holds out the
cocoa again insistently. “I’m watching this place for Rei. It’s listed in my
name, but I’m not exactly...ah, I mean, I am the lord, but it’s in name only,
I’m watching it for Rei. You’re Mika, right? I remember you from the Academy, a
bit.”
Mika nods hesitantly, and slowly wraps his hands around the cup of cocoa.
“Thank you. Um…I’m sorry, I don’t remember you,” he says, embarrassed, but he
slowly relaxes. If this is someone from the Academy that even Rei can
trust…then he must be good people. “Ah—“ Then it occurs to him, in a worrisome
memory. “Wait. You…did you…your name, it sounds familiar, I think? I don’t
wanna assume, but weren’t you…one of the High Emperor’s attendants?”
Tsumugi gives a small, not entirely genuine smile. “I was, yes. Mm, but things
change, don’t they?”
“…he let you just…step away like that?” Mika’s voice shakes a little in his
disbelief, and he stops it by taking a sip of cocoa. It burns his tongue, but
it’s intensely sweet and warming, so that’s something. “I thought the Emperor
bound all of his servants to him.”
“Ah, Mika, please don’t think that anyone can compel you against your will,”
Tsumugi says, genuine and earnest as he steps forward, resting his elbows on
the railing. “There may be a price to pay for leaving, but it’s always worth
it.”
Mika bites his lip at that, and he lets his back thump against the railing as
he leans against it. “If you’re a wizard, you’re very good at hidin’ it,” he
says softly. “I can’t feel a seal on you, but somethin’s blockin’ me from
seeing you properly. I can’t hide like that, it doesn’t work.”
“I’m quite good at hiding,” Tsumugi assures him. “It’s my only real skill, I
suppose. Not like your incredible talents, they’ve been talking about those at
the Academy for quite a few years.”
Mika grimaces at that. “They don’t talk about it ‘cause it’s incredible,” he
mutters, and sips at his cocoa again. “It must be nice bein’ able to hide like
that. No wonder the Demon King’s got you workin’ for him now.” He hesitates,
glancing down. “What’s he like? The High Emperor.”
“Eichi?” Tsumugi looks out over the courtyard, and the city beyond. His eyes
grow distant, but not cold, and his hands slowly rotate the cup in his hands.
“More human than they give him credit for. I know they say he’s immortal,
because he’s over ninety and looks twenty, but he’s just preserved his looks.
He’s as prone to illness and injury of anyone over ninety. And they never talk
about how much he likes gardening, or the meatballs they sell on a stick on the
street, or his tea room.”
“It’s hard to think that he’s human,” Mika quietly says, “when he keeps sendin’
hunters to kill us and the people we love. Or condones that kinda thing in the
first place. Or likes it. It’s hard to believe he’s got anyone’s best interests
at heart, y’know?”
“He’s lived a long time,” Tsumugi says, in the same subdued tone. “Probably too
long. He used to be great, you know? Back in the War of Night, he unified all
the fractured houses and brought them together, back to the Academy. That saved
a lot of lives. So now...he thinks that unity is the only way to strength, I
think.”
“That’s not a good enough excuse for killin’ people. The Demon King’s lived a
long time, he don’t kill no one like that. Or let us be slaves.”
“Which is why I’m here,” Tsumugi says gently, “and not at the Academy.”
Mika grumbles, and swallows down a huge mouthful of cocoa. “Then stop defendin’
him,” he moodily says. “Makes y’sound like a traitor. You’ll make Master real
upset if you say nice things about the High Emperor, just so you know.”
“Is it nice?” Tsumugi asks, sounding honestly curious. “To think that he is so
human and capable of kindness, yet chooses to be cruel...I should think that’s
the most damning thing of all. True monsters are just acting according to their
nature, are they not?”
“Any kind of defense for a guy like that is nice.” Mika sticks his tongue out.
“I don’t like any part of it. I’m glad y’don’t work for him anymore, you seem
like a nice guy, but…I don’t think anyone that likes the High Emperor’s all
there in the head.”
“Ah, you’re probably right,” Tsumugi says, reaching down to finger one of the
charms at his waist with a nervous little laugh. “You’d like Natsume a lot, I
think, he’s the one pretending to be my wife. He thinks much like you do.”
“Master likes him, too.” Because he looks cute in dresses, first of all. “He,
ah. Doesn’t seem to like playin’ your wife all that much? By the sound of it?”
“Oh, no, he thinks I’m very weak and useless,” Tsumugi assures him. “I’m afraid
he thought I was rather cool to betray the Academy like I did and was expecting
someone a bit...stronger, perhaps?”
“Hmm. But you’ve got a real soothin’ kinda personality, so that’s nice. I like
that kinda person.” Mika finishes off his cocoa with a sigh. “But—“
“Oi! Tsumugi!”
Mika nearly jumps out of his skin, and bolts to the other side of Tsumugi in
short order, more or less hiding behind him as none other than Koga storms down
the hall, eyes narrowed. “Did you hear the news? Or have you been sitting
around chatting?”
“Chatting,” Tsumugi says cheerfully. “Ah, Sir Koga, nice to see you! How are
you feeling today? Your astrology is rather grim, I’m afraid, I was going to go
check on you--”
“I’m gonna punch you,” Koga threatens, reaching over to grab the front of
Tsumugi’s shirt and shake him roughly. “How d’you expect to run shit here for
Rei if you don’t pay attention?! The North just fucking seceded and you’re
having hot chocolate, give me a break!”
“Ah, I hope my hot chocolate didn’t trouble the North,” Tsumugi says worriedly,
setting down his cup to keep it from spilling, then letting himself be shaken
like a rag doll. “What does Rei want me to do about it? I’ll go ask him.”
“Act like a man for once! Who knows when he’s gonna be back! All of High
Harbor’s nobles are gonna be involved in this, one way or another.” Koga
releases him with a scowl. “More importantly, though—we’re gonna need to
increase security on this whole place, especially with the prince. Once he gets
word of this…who knows what he’s gonna do.”
“Scary,” Mika murmurs, huddling behind Tsumugi.
“What’s scary? Ugh, they don’t make wizards like they used to, you’re all so
weak.”
“You’re very intense, aren’t you, Oogami?” Tsumugi asks, sounding a little
shaken, thumbing through several of his charms. “Ahh, Mika, perhaps you should
go back to your chambers, I think things might get a bit loud or frightening
out here. Shu probably doesn’t handle loud noises well still, right?”
“I’ll show you loud and intense! He left all this in your care, the least you
can do is man up and—“
Mika quickly backtracks, a hasty bow all he offers as he flees. “Bye, ah, um,
Tsumu!” Close enough.Has Arashi heard about this yet? Mika worries, hurrying
back down the hall, and subsequently, runs straight into the chest of the King
of Demons. He stumbles back with a squeak, eyes wide, and Rei doesn’t even
blink, patting his head with a soft hand.
“There’s a good boy. Easy, easy. Ah, where’s your Master?”
“Here.”
The weary voice comes from behind Rei, Shu standing tall and unstooped, but
obviously tired. “Come, Mika, don’t be afraid. You know by now that Rei won’t
hurt you, don’t you?” He steps closer to Rei, wordlessly affectionate in as
much as he can be in front of other people, reaching out a beckoning hand for
Mika.
Mika hurries towards him, latching onto Shu’s arm in short order, and Rei
smiles, even if he’s tired in his own right. “Finally,” he murmurs, turning and
reaching out, placing his hands atop Shu’s shoulders. “You’re in my home. Ah, I
rode for days to return to you, I’m so glad you look well.” Desperately
avoiding beaten paths and magical usage to return home—it’s worth it. “I know
you’re tired, but the makeshift seal I’ve stamped upon myself is threatening to
break at any moment, and I need your assistance to put it back properly.”
“Of course, my lord,” Shu says, drawing himself up to his full height. “Despite
the rumors that accursed emperor has spread, I do still have enough magical
power to do something so simple. You, at least, do not underestimate me, ha!”
“Mm, of course I don’t. Come then, Mika can come as well, if he likes.”
Mika nods firmly, clinging to Shu’s arm still. Rei takes Shu’s other arm to
guide him along to his chambers, and the tension in his own touch is now
palpable. “I rode through some interesting activity. There’s quite a bit of
unrest, which I think I like.”
“I heard. Something about those folk up in the North--can you tell, my lord, if
the Sena boy is truly dead?” Shu asks, trying not to sound audibly worried. “He
is a half-blood, I can’t imagine what it would take to truly end such an
extraordinary life.”
“My puppy hasn’t been able to sniff him since we were back in the Sandlands,”
Rei quietly answers. “Which doesn’t bode well. If he is alive…well, I commend
him, I suppose. Being able to allude Koga’s nose while still being along the
living is a feat even I’m usually incapable of, unless I’m fully sealed.”
He opens the door to his chambers, pulling Shu and his attached Mika inside
before locking it and sagging back against the door with a long, ragged sigh. A
bead of sweat drips down from his temple, and Rei shuts his eyes, wiping a hand
down his face. “We’ll talk more about that in a moment. Shu, if you would,
please.”
Shu gently detaches Mika’s hand from his arm, moving to place his hands on
Rei’s head, fingertips lightly touching at his temples. An intake of breath, a
shuddering shiver of magic, and a seal clicks shut over Rei’s magic--not as
heavy, not as shakingly final, but with vastly more finesse and refinement,
eliminating even the tiniest crack or spill. His head aches, but the seal is
one of the best he’s ever done, and the pride he feels more than outweighs the
pain. “There,” he breathes, eyes alight, letting his hands trail down over
Rei’s hair, resting on his chest. “I dare him to find you now.”
“Master’s so cool,” Mika breathes, the wavering tension that he had felt before
suddenly replaced with resounding silence and stillness.
Rei sags back with a relieved sigh, and he reaches up, closing his hands over
Shu’s, squeezing them gently. “Ahh…thank the gods, that’s so good, you’re so
good.” He pulls on Shu’s hands. “Stay close, let me hold you. I’ve missed you
so.”
Shu’s cheeks flush, and he darts a glance at Mika. “Don’t be vulgar,” he
murmurs, though he makes no effort to pull away, in fact taking a step closer
until they’re nearly chest to chest, those few scant centimeters of height
difference more apparent up close. His pulse pounds, but from arousal rather
than magical exertion, for the first time in long weeks. “We’re not alone.”
“I don’t mind,” Rei hums, which is absolutely not the answer Shu wants, he
knows, but it doesn’t stop him from sliding both arms around Shu’s lean waist,
squeezing him. “Look how beautiful you still are. How can I behave myself?”
“Master, it’s been forever,” Mika exasperatedly says, even from where he makes
himself at home on a sofa, snuggled up with several opulently squishy pillows.
“You can kick me out, or I’ll be over here, not in the way.”
Shu hesitates, then winds his arms around Rei’s neck, the way he’s wanted to
for years, exhaling deeply. “He’s used to watching,” he murmurs, though his
face is still hot. “It was all either of us could do for years, though...Mika,
are you sure you don’t want to go find your Captain? You can have him here, you
know.”
Mika’s head tilts, contemplative, and Rei flutters a hand in his direction. “Do
what you like, little bird, but forgive me if I’m preoccupied. Shu…”
Rei’s fingers hook into the high collar of Shu’s shirt, easing it down for his
mouth to press to the pale skin of his neck. “You smell so good, love,” he
murmurs, his other hand’s fingers splaying against the small of his back to
keep him close.
Ooh, too intimate.Mika’s expression shifts wry and amused, and he rolls off the
couch and to his feet. “Later, Master,” he teases, and swiftly trots out of the
room, shutting the door with a click behind himself.
“That’s a good boy,” Rei says with a laugh, kissing Shu’s neck again. “All to
myself, that’s how this should be.”
Shu exhales finally, melting forward against Rei, his skin tingling and
twitching, body rousing within bare seconds as he presses forward, hands
sliding down to touch Rei’s neck, his lips, his chest, then slide up under his
many layers, deftly getting to bare skin as fast as possible. “Make use of your
time,” he breathes, a bit shaky now that he has the actual opportunity to do as
he likes.
No, it’ll be fine. Rei knows that he isn’t practiced at this sort of thing, and
isn’t expecting him to be. And Mika is out of the room, meaning that one more
person who could mock his lack of experience is gone. Good. When he wriggles
helplessly just at a kiss to his neck, who knows how embarrassing he’ll be when
Rei has him stripped? “You should...take my clothes off,” he whispers, saying
the filthiest thing he can think of.
Rei exhales a soft snort of amusement as he pulls open the first few buttons of
Shu’s collar. “Should I? Is that all?” he teases, his thumb brushing along the
jut of Shu’s collarbones. “You have the softest skin. Ahh, let me do more than
that, to the bed with you.”
He catches up Shu’s hand, pulling him abruptly towards the bed and dumping him
back onto it in a heap. Every nerve in his body vibrates—mine, this is mine,
finally, he’s inmybed and I can touch him how I like—and Rei’s breath catches
up in his throat as he follows after Shu, deft hands spreading his thighs to
kneel between them, his fingers shaking as they methodically unsnap and unlace
everything in sight. “I haven’t touched anyone in years,” he breathes, his
mouth hovering just over Shu’s, his hair falling down in a messy black tumble
to frame their faces. “I couldn’t, not after I met you.”
All Shu can do is be grateful that Rei has been a wizard, knows the intricacies
of his clothing as well as he knows it himself, and seems as committed to
getting it off as Shu is himself. He automatically brings up his hands to stop
Rei, muscle memory after so long, then forces them down to the bed with a huff.
“Just--touch me,” he implores. “I don’t think I’m--I’m not ready to touch you,
but I require you to...Rei, please touch me, I’ve never...”
“I know, I know, shh.” Rei plants a kiss to the corner of his mouth, silencing
him. “Just put your arms around me, love,” he murmurs, and unravels the last of
those lacings in short order. “Mmn, once I’m done undressing you, of course.
Here, sit up, this is all coming off.”
Rei pulls Shu up before he can comply on his own, and swiftly eases both robes
and all of that obnoxious underwear off, tossing it to the floor with all the
practice of someone very used to undressing others. “There we are.”
He grabs up Shu’s face in his hands, kissing him softly, then again, and again,
his teeth catching against Shu’s lower lip before he draws back again. “You’ll
let me take care of you, won’t you?” Rei’s own breath comes harder, his chest
heaving from the effort it takes to not just pounce and eat him alive. “I’ve
wanted to, since the day I met you.”
“If you don’t, I’ll die,” Shu breathes, turning his head to pant into the
pillow, cock achingly hard and on the verge of spilling just from being exposed
to the air while aroused. The idea that Rei can see it, see all of it, makes
him squeeze his eyes shut in an effort to come back from the edge already. “If
you touch it, it’s over,” he admits, spreading his legs, looking down in mild
embarrassment as his hips twitch up against empty air, desperate and needy. “M-
maybe even if you d-don’t--”
“Good.”
Rei presses another kiss to Shu’s throat as his fingers drag down Shu’s
stomach, petting along soft skin until his hand finds his cock, achingly hard
and hot against his palm. He groans, his head thunking down against the bed as
he squeezes, strokes, his touch deliberate and thorough as he sucks on the side
of Shu’s neck. “It’s fine if you’re fast,” he breathes. “I’ll take care of you
again, and again, until you’re completely satisfied.”
Shu rather thinks that even if he were the world’s most experienced lover, his
limbs would still seize in sudden arousal, pleasure whiting out his mind as he
arches, releasing hot and wet and thick over Rei’s hand in a bare second, every
part of him aching and satisfied in a heartbeat. “R-Rei,” he pleads, not
knowing what he’s pleading for, what he could possibly be pleading for when
Rei’s hand is more than he’d ever expected. His arms flop uselessly at his
sides, and he blinks tears out of his eyes, shamelessly shoving his hips up
again. “Again and again,” he whispers. “You promised.”
Feeling Shu come all over his hand makes arousal rake sharply down his own
spine, and Rei sucks in a sharp breath, his fingers dragging through the mess,
far from pulling away. “I promised,” he agrees, scooting his knees up closer
between Shu’s spread thighs. “I promised, I won’t stop. You’re already a mess,
though, aren’t you?”
Rei leans back, shrugging off his jacket, then unlacing his shirt and pulling
it up and over his head to toss the layers to the ground. He pulls at the laces
of his breeches before he pauses, and grabs for Shu’s hand instead, no matter
how shaky and useless his grasp seems to be. “Don’t you want to unwrap what’s
yours, love?”
As shaky and useless as he may be, Shu is good at clothing. His fingers make
short work of the laces, and delve immediately inside, cupping and stroking
with a low hiss of breath, carefully tracing the contours of something he’s
never been allowed to touch before. His own breath comes slow and ragged, all
of his focus in his sensitive fingertips as then brush over every line, curve,
swell, dip. “It’s...beautiful,” he breathes, entranced, pupils dilated wide.
That touch alone nearly fells him.
Rei lifts a hand to his own mouth, stifling a low, hungry groan as he pitches
forward against that touch, his knees splaying further apart on the bed as he
ruts helplessly into Shu’s hand for a moment. “You’re…going to do me in like
that, you know,” he pants out, sagging forward until he buries his face back
into Shu’s neck, kissing, sucking as he rolls against Shu’s palm. “I dream of
your hands—“ His own hand grabs for the other one, lacing their fingers
together with a firm squeeze before Rei pins it next to Shu’s head. His cock
aches, twitching in Shu’s grasp as he slowly grinds down, sliding hard and
heavy against his palm. 
“I’m--”
Shu swallows hard, breath stuttering and dying in his throat when Rei feels
even better to the touch than his hand did, when he’s got all the liberty he
wants to rub and touch and stroke that he wants. It’s a heady sort of power,
and that along with the sweetly intriguing mouth on his neck makes him hiss out
a breath that turns into a moan. “I could come again just from feeling you like
this,” he whispers, looking up at Rei, lost in those dark eyes.
“Good,” Rei gasps, tilting his head to let his teeth eagerly nip at an earlobe,
sucking it into his mouth. He fumbles to slide a hand between them, and
readjusts Shu’s grip to wrap around the two of them, letting their cocks slide
together in their combined grasp. “You’re so beautiful,” he rasps, burying his
face into Shu’s neck, his breath hitching raggedly every single time he can
smell Shu’s pulse spike and jump. “I…ahh…gods, if I bite you, I’m s-sorry,
you’re just…”
“You can do anything you want to me,” Shu groans, parting his legs to wrap them
around Rei’s waist, then letting them fall back to the bed in an awkward
tangle, far too preoccupied to even grab, every clutching effort he makes going
awry when his body gives up. It’s too hard to process, and he ruts up again and
again like an animal in heat, just determined to cling to Rei with everything
he is. As long as he can be a part of that warmth, life is worth living, every
struggling, excruciating second of it. “I’m--yours--”
The urge to just spread those pretty legs further, or to flip Shu over, or to
do any number of previously unmentionable things to him is so strong that Rei
can’t help himself, he can’t.
Or he wouldn’t be able to, if he didn’t already feel Shu’s perfectly laid seal
fray at the mere thought.
Rei groans, Shu’s words echoing in his head—you can do anything you want to
me—just as he strikes. Too-sharp teeth sink into the soft flesh of Shu’s neck,
and a long, shudder rakes through him with just the first drip of that sweet,
heady blood over his tongue. The taste alone feels like coming, never mind that
he already actually is, spilling over his fingers with a hard, pulsing twitch
that rips the breath from his lungs. Another swallow of Shu’s blood, and he
hears the possessive, hungry growl escape from his throat, his teeth clamping
down harder. You’re mine, you’re mine.
Shu’s release joins Rei’s between them with a shuddering cry, and he goes
rather limp, all of his awareness focused on Rei’s mouth set in his flesh,
every slow pulse of his blood into Rei’s mouth, into Rei. None of this feels
like before, when Rei had kissed him sweetly and slid a few fingers into him,
taking him apart like a doll without pins. That had been enough to change his
life before; this is something else.
When he finally blinks, it feels as if time has passed. “Rei,” he breathes, one
shaking hand coming up to pet through that silken hair splayed over his chest.
The touch brings him back, somewhat. Rei shivers again, his eyes lidded, hazy
from the taste of Shu on his tongue as he eventually releases Shu’s throat and
slumps down against him. “No one says my name like you do,” he sighs, licking
his lips, the red stain of Shu’s blood far from fading. “You taste as good as
you smell…ahh, this is no good, I’m already addicted…”
“I’ve always been afraid to say your name,” Shu admits, petting his hands
through Rei’s hair, shifting to tug a blanket over them both. “I was worried it
would bring their hammer down on you somehow--like you would hear me if I said
it, and they could find you. I’d do anything to keep you safe.”
“No one can hear us right now.” Rei settles down further, content to be petted.
The intimacy of being sprawled against Shu, skin to skin, feels like a reward
of the highest caliber after so long, and his eyes flutter. “Thank the gods for
your skill. The way my magic feels when I’m around you…I don’t think any other
seal would or could hold.”
Shu preens a bit at the praise, letting his legs arrange beneath Rei’s,
shifting until they’re both truly comfortable. “Mm, yes, of course, my skill
level is unbelievably high. I doubt even the Emperor and his winged
abomination, the traitor, could sniff out even the slightest wisp of your
presence, ha!”
“Mm, mm, your skills are truly a delight to behold.” It’s the truth, and
there’s not an ounce of sarcasm in Rei’s voice. He hums, licking at the bite
mark he left behind on Shu’s neck once more before tilting his head up to
nuzzle his face into Shu’s hair. “We can stay here, safe and sound, for a
time.” Acting before he sees how all of the little pieces fall into place has
never been his forte, after all. “I don’t mind biding my time with you,
either.”
***** Chapter 16 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
Izumi’s memory, constantly playing over and over, over and over through the
span of the time spent in that cell, mimics nightmares more than anything.
The price didn’t drop for another two days, or so he was told. That doesn’t
make sense to him. Nothing does. Surely, he’s too filthy, too tired, too
unresponsive for them to care at this point, but it doesn’t stop a cold bucket
of water to be dumped over his head at any point to wake him or half-heartedly
clean him, stirring him back to a vague sense of consciousness so that they can
get any kind of a reaction out of him.
Maybe if I’ll die if I don’t eat. It’s something these men consider,
apparently, because he’s force-fed both water and gruel at one point, and
vomits it later, when there’s a cock shoved so far down his throat that he
gives up breathing.
“He’s still alive? Good, his mouth’s still pretty. Drink up, kitty.”
It’s not the first time they’ve said that, nor is it the last.
None of that matters compared to the constant, reverberating pain. It starts at
his neck, travels all the way through his limbs, leaving them tingly and
useless as he trembles, trying to shake it off. It still feels like he’s
melting from the inside, like something is trying to grind every part of him to
dust, and that agonizing, dissolving sensation won’t stop,all courtesy of the
collar on his neck, the magicked stone scraping across his raw skin. The
scariest part is when Izumi can feel himself want to give up, and he does, he
does,he gives up and he’s fine with that, but his body won’t, jerking him back
to wakefulness, to consciousness, to existence that’s pain and cruel hands and
tastes and words and smells that make him want to give up all over again.
His blood price is the highest price fetched yet.
Or so he’s told. He doesn’t remember it. He remembers Lord Karn. He remembers
the other man with him—Lord Hennessy, they’d gone 50/50 on it—and Izumi
remembers the unrelenting grasp on his hair before a knife flashes and it’s
chopped short, dropping filthy, lank silver hair to the cell floor. “Your
bastard has hair like yours,” Hennessy says, spitting out the words. “What I
would do to rip it from her skull.”
What follows still seems to dull in comparison to the pain that has plagued him
for days, and to be honest, it’s a relief. The first stab to his neck makes him
gasp wetly, the second to his lungs makes him taste blood, and every single
stab of that knife afterwards feels almost…comforting.
Karn, Hennessy, Blake, Plaskett, Rains, Wynne—and Duke Rodan himself. Those are
the names that filter through his mind in a neat little list with each stab,
one for each, a few extra (three) for every bastard child.
Ah, I really will die now. I’m so sorry, Leo, but I hope I don’t see you soon.
 Izumi’s eyes cloud over as they flutter shut, and finally, gratefully, the
world stops hurting.
 
 ~
 
Mao is exhausted.
Running himself ragged not only between the Academy but also, his Master, has
left him functioning on perhaps three hours of sleep nightly, and that’s if
he’s lucky. Today, he’s back in the capital, all but falling asleep on his
horse when he arrives, with even the sense of unrest not enough to wake him
fully.
That is, until he moves to check on one of his charges.
He yawns behind his hand, striding down the front hall of the wizarding housing
unit granted to Makoto, now a research specialist within the capital. A nod to
the guards, and he’s let inside. It’s a routine thing, for him to go about and
check in with wizards newly assigned to their duties, and Makoto has always
been a bit of a special case, considering he always genuinely seemed kind, and
had such a mild blooming that the level of fear and disgust the Academy
normally associated with wizards was…well…virtually nonexistent.
Also, it’s time to check on him and make sure he’s focused and not doing
anything stupid, in light of recent events and unrest.
Mao knocks on the door as a formality, but then simply lets himself in with a
master key. “Official business, Excellency,” he calls, stifling another yawn,
and what greets him abruptly jerks him awake. Right there, literally on the
floor of Makoto’s living quarters, is…is that a corpse? Are those…Makoto’s
hands literally on said corpse, slid underneath its shirt? Mao freezes, stares,
and says, before he can filter himself, “I do not have time for this today.”
“I--wait, Mao, it’s not what it looks like!”
Makoto freezes too, hands under the ragged tatters still clinging to Izumi’s
lifeless form, resting gently splayed on his chest. This...probably doesn’t
look good, exactly, with his old friend’s body lying on his floor, and his
hands under his shirt, it must look like he’s some kind of necrophiliac
pervert! “I, um, it...”
His voice fails. He just stares, gawking, unable to find the words.
Mao sighs. He just…sighs.
He shuts the door behind him, turning the lock. “It looks,” he slowly begins,
“like you took your research assignment home with you. For some reason.”
Makoto swallows hard. He desperately wants to trust Mao--Mao is a nice person,
and has always been a good watcher, and he has so few friends...but isn’t that
what the Academy does on purpose, make him think that his watcher is his only
friend? “Y-yes,” he stammers. “I did. I brought him...I brought it home.
Just...had some curiosity. Something wasn’t lining up, you know? So, um,
I’m...studying.”
“Sure.”
Mao hesitates, then sighs again, shutting his eyes as he lifts a hand to rub at
the bridge of his nose. “Right. Ahh, I didn’t need this today.”
And as he says that, he abruptly snaps a dangling cord off of his neck,
shattering the stone attached to it onto the floor. It dissolves, filtering
away to nothing, except for a couple of shards that Mao scoops off the floor
and places onto a windowsill. “How aware of the current situation are you?” he
asks, his voice low in spite of the silencer he placed upon the room.
Makoto blinks slowly. “Eh?”
“The North. The Sena house debacle. Have you not been following the situation
at all?”
Makoto’s face slowly, steadily turns red. “I, um...ha, I wouldn’t know about
any of that, right? B-because I’m supposed to not...I’m just, they gave me this
body, I’m good at, um, gathering information, I don’t even know who he is,
I...”
“Makoto.” Mao warily glances out the window, then to the door again, before he
crouches down, staring him in the eye. “Enough. I told you, I don’t have time
for it. I’m working both sides, so relax for a moment and stop lying to me.”
Makoto gapes. He doesn’t know what to do, so his mind defaults to his original
state, which is to be far too honest. “I know who he is,” he says in a rush,
hands light on Izumi’s unmoving skin. “I’ve known him forever, Mao, he’s not
dead. I don’t know how he’s not, but he’s not, I think he’s stuck? His soul--
it’s trapped, somehow, I don’t know how to fix it, but I’m trying, and I have a
friend who wants my help to get him either to the North or to his prince and
I’m not sure what to do, I’m sorry, I should have reported it...”
“Don’t you dare report this.” Mao squints, scoots closer, and gingerly reaches
out to lift the…not-corpse’s face a little. It’s creepy, because he looks dead,
and he automatically doesn’t want to touch—but the second he does, pushing lank
hair away from his face, he jerks his hand away, recoiling in shock. “Holy
shit. That’s really the Sena heir.” And here he’d brought up the North and
being on the edge of war because the last thing he needed was another wizard
being accused of crimes at this time—but this is different. He glances up,
meeting Makoto’s eyes. “Who has been contacting you about him? How sure are
you…is he really not dead?”
“His cells aren’t decomposing at all,” Makoto says softly. He draws his hands
out from under Izumi’s shirt. “He’s also not cold. I don’t doubt they didn’t
notice in the Sandlands, because it’s so warm down there. My friend...”
He rubs his face, trying to focus when Izumi is on the ground in front of him,
looking like every bad thing in the world has happened to him. “When they first
brought him in, his face was crushed,” he says softly. “Look, now you can see
who he is. And the stab wounds are closed, I was checking. He’s not breathing,
though, but...”
“That’s insane,” Mao mutters, staring down at Izumi in disbelief. He still
doesn’t exactly want to touch something that looks, for all intents and
purposes, like a corpse. “Who are you working with?” he asks again. “Because my
master…he wants this guy as well.” 
Makoto sucks in a breath. The worst that can happen is that he dies, and he’s
already pretty much done enough to be worth a death sentence anyway. “His name
is Subaru, of the Akehoshi lands,” he says quietly. “He’s the Captain of the
Guard in High Harbor, guarding the ruling family.”
Mao gives up, and sits down on the ground. He shuts his eyes again, but it’s
less weariness this time, and more relief. “Thank the gods,” he murmurs,
rubbing at one of his temples. “Then we’re working with the same people. Ah,
the last thing I needed was another conflict of interest in this mess…”
He opens his eyes again, and claps his hands together. “Right. Fine. What do
you need from me, then? He can’t be transported when he’s like this. Even if he
isn’t dead, he’s still helpless, so you’re going to need to patch him up
properly before we try to move him.”
“I’m n-not a healer?” Makoto stammers, feeling himself start to sweat. “There’s
something interfering, it’s....I’d say it’s interfering with his natural
healing process, that’s how it feels, but obviously he is healing--and far more
than natural--so what am I supposed to do?”
“He’s a half-breed of some kind, or that’s what the rumors are—my master hasn’t
told me much, just that he wants him. That’s why he’s healing like this, I bet,
but it’s still…” Mao warily reaches forward again, prodding at Izumi’s limp
arm. “Strange. Maybe there’s something poisoning him, like a figurative
arrowhead lodged in him somewhere, you know? I guess we should look…”
He reaches for the strap of leather around Izumi’s neck first to pull it off,
and he blinks at the weight of it when he unbuckles it. “Oh—shit.” Mao turns it
over, eyebrows raised at the heavy, rough stone embedded within the leather,
previously pressed to Izumi’s skin, leaving what looks like a burn in his flesh
that has long been rubbed raw. “Look at this. It’s hidden well, but now that
I’m touching it, the magic is really…dense. Don’t touch it, I don’t want you
being hurt by it either.”
But there has always been the fact that Izumi’s father is unknown. Makoto had
always assumed that the father was a commoner, the way most people have, but if
he’s something else...
“Give me that,” he says softly, taking the leatherbound stone and grabbing it.
The magic in it is powerful, but crude; he can see the thin line of power
connecting the necklace to Izumi even now, sapping him, leeching him in a sick
pulse just like a human heartbeat.
“It’s powerful, but it’s not very well-made. It definitely wasn’t made by a
wizard, not one with any juice. I think I can just...” He frowns, then
concentrates, and the stone shatters. Bits of it fly into his skin, tiny lances
of pain that make him shout, batting frantically at his arms and face. The
heartbeat echoes around the room, then settles into Izumi, and finally, his
slender chest rises.
“Ah, be careful, I told you not to touch it,” Mao frets, but his gaze is split
between Makoto and the fact that Izumi actually takes a breath, like some kind
of fish that’s finally been thrown back into the water after an hour without.
No matter how much time he spends around wizards, it’s still something entirely
different with half-breeds, or beasts in general, and Mao shivers, glancing
away. “I’ll need to contact my master and let him know about this,” he quietly
says. “If he really is a half-breed and healing on his own, then that’s taken
care of, but…until I can figure how to transport him without being found, I’ll
have to leave him in your care. I’ll deal with all the necessary precautions
for your privacy, of course.”
Makoto nods, hardly listening when he moves to Izumi’s side, taking one of his
hands and holding it in both of his. It’s warmer than it had been before, he
thinks, and he brushes the hair back from Izumi’s face, wishing he could regrow
the cut ends. “Lord Izumi?” he whispers, squeezing the hand in his. “Can you
hear me? It’s--it’s Makoto, remember me?”
Izumi stirs with a low, weak moan, his head lolling to the side, brow furrowed.
“Let’s get him into bed—or maybe cleaned up first,” Mao worriedly murmurs.
“First things first, though—Makoto, who else knows about this? Just Subaru? Or
did you have other assistance in getting him here? You have to be careful, the
North right now is on the verge of declaring war because of your friend here.”
“Yes, we’ll get him up,” Makoto mutters, attempting to lift Izumi and groaning
under his weight. He looks sideways at Makoto and says defensively, “Being a
wizard means you don’t do a lot of lifting, you know? Help me, he’s waking up
too fast to clean him up.”
“Why don’t you ever pay attention to important questions I’m asking you?” Mao
growls, even as he moves to lift Izumi up as if he weighs nothing. Compared to
Ritsu, he might as well be a bag of bones. In his arms, Izumi doesn’t stir
further, except for his head to listlessly flop backwards. “Up we go—get the
door, I’ve got him. Ah, I’ll need to put blockers all over this place now,” he
frets. “My silencers are only temporary.”
“I don’t know anything about silencers or blockers,” Makoto says, chewing on
his lower lip, clinging to Izumi’s hand again. He’s alive, he thinks, relief
clinging to every part of him. He’s alive, he’s alive, he didn’t leave me...
“If you teach me, I can do it, I think? Ah, I hope...”
“I’ll do it, you don’t need to worry about it.” Mao nudges the bedroom door
open with his hip, and readjusts Izumi in his arms to pull the blankets off of
Makoto’s bed before laying him down. “It’s better if it doesn’t have your
signature, anyway—“
Izumi stirs again, his eyelids fluttering. When his eyes do open, he barely
focuses on Mao for a second before starting hard, swinging a punch in his
generalized direction.
“Ow, ow!” Mao jerks back with a bloody nose, his eyes watering. “Geez, that’s
what I get for helping, huh?”
“D-don’t touch me, get away from me!” Izumi’s voice is a hoarse rasp, his eyes
wide and white-rimmed, his pupils strange, reptilian slits set within irises
too-blue.
“I’m not touching you, calm down—ah, Makoto, he’s all yours, I’m going to go
set up those blockers,” Mao sniffs, wiping at his bleeding nose as he
backtracks, his other hand up defensively.
Makoto slams the door shut behind him, heart pounding as he backs up against
the door. Maybe Izumi isn’t a half-breed after all--he looks different from
ever before, maybe whoever had had him had done something to him, forced him to
change somehow? His stomach twists in fear, and the walls around him start
trembling. He sucks in a deep breath, and the trembling stops--in the walls,
though not in himself. “L-Lord Izumi,” he tries, even his toes trembling, “y-y-
you’re safe, I promise, it’s--it’s Makoto, do you remember me?”
Izumi trembles, slinking back on the bed until his own back hits the wall. It
takes a moment for his eyes to focus, to adjust to the room, and he sucks in a
long, steadying breath, taking a long moment to adjust to the fact that his
entire body isn’t just an agonizing hell of pain he can’t escape.
“…Yuukun.” The strange light fades from his eyes, and Izumi shivers again,
suddenly realizing how naked he is, how uncharacteristically cold he feels, and
he shakily, slowly draws his knees up to his chest. “I…h…how…” One of his hands
flies up, touching his neck, where the raw skin is still healing, and he
winces, cringing backwards. “When did you…where am I?”
“Oh, thank the Emperor,” Makoto breathes, sliding down the door to kneel on the
floor, trembling with relief. “You’re alive, I was so worried, I knew you
couldn’t be dead but--what was that, that was so scary!”
“What was what?” Izumi mutters, glancing around, still feeling dazed and light-
headed. He still can’t stop shaking, and he grabs with trembling fingers for
the blankets on Makoto’s bed, slowly dragging them over to curl up underneath
them. “I’m dead, aren’t I? I feel dead. Good night.”
“You’re not dead! I’m almost certain!”
Makoto timidly moves forward, perching on the side of the bed, ginger and
cautious. “You’ve been here for two weeks--er, not here, but in transit, then
here, I wasn’t supposed to bring you here, but...I just had a feeling you
weren’t dead, so...I smuggled you out of the Academy.”
Izumi stares at him over his knees. “…Two weeks?” That’s so much longer than
makes sense. “But I died.” He’s pretty sure of that fact—or he was, until
Makoto said that. He shivers again, flexing his toes, startled that it doesn’t
feel like he’s being stabbed when he does. “Or something like it.”
A quiet knock on the door makes Izumi’s head jerk up with a hiss, and Mao pokes
his head in gingerly. “I’ve put up enough blockers to make it impossible for
the Academy to sniff him out, unless they’re actually in here with him. Just be
careful about what magic you throw around, if any, with him.”
Makoto nods firmly, tucking his legs up under himself. “You were, ah,
delivered. To the Academy. And I applied to be the head researcher, and I saw
it was you...but then--then I saw you were healing, so I figured you must be
alive somehow, and then today, you finally looked all, um, healed up, and we
found that thing around your neck, and then...well, then I broke it and you
woke up.”
Izumi growls at the mention of the collar, a thoroughly hate-filled noise.
“Fuck that thing,” he mutters, curling his arms back around his legs underneath
the blanket.
“Do you remember who was responsible?” Mao presses, folding his arms across his
chest. “I need to report to—“
“Go away, I don’t want to talk to you.”
Mao opens his mouth to argue, then shuts it again, heaving a weary sigh as he
rakes a hand back through his hair. “All right,” he agrees, looking over to
Makoto. Obviously, Izumi isn’t going to be helpful right now, especially not
around him. He’ll just have to come back later. “I’ll be checking in
periodically. Fortunately, I have an excuse to stay in the capital that’s
unrelated to this, but…tread carefully, all right? You both need to stay safe
while I figure out what to do.”
The door clicks shut, and beyond it, Izumi can hear the sound of another door
locking after Mao’s footsteps disappear. Izumi trembles anew, hunching down.
“Is there…is there some way I could take a bath?” he asks, his voice small and
quiet. “Otherwise, I’ll kill myself for real, thanks.”
“Oh. Um, sure. There’s a basin, if you want to stay in the room, I have a ewer
and a cloth, or, um, the bathing room has tubs, but the water is cold...”
Makoto grimaces, fiddling with his blanket with his fingertips, feeling
helpless but wanting so badly to help. “Nothing like back in the North.”
“Cold is fine.” Maybe I can drown myself. Izumi reaches up to push his hair out
of his face, and his mouth twists when he finds it so much shorter than he’s
used to. “And a knife, maybe,” he mutters, briefly shutting his eyes in an
attempt to not cry. This is fine. It doesn’t matter, this is fine. “So I can
even this mess out.”
Makoto offers one of his Dawncloaks, soft red with orange wefts. “If you want
to wear that, we’re only down a hallway. I can make an illusion, I’m good at
not being seen. I, ah, I do it all the time, so I don’t think anyone will
notice anything different.”
Izumi hesitates, then nods, slowly unfolding himself from the blankets and
scooting to the edge of the bed. It still takes effort—his limbs don’t want to
work as well as he remembers, courtesy of an underlying, aching weariness that
makes them tremble unpredictably. Hopefully, that will go away soon enough,
even if it’s incredibly annoying now. “I’m…sorry that you’re caught up in this
now,” he murmurs, wrapping himself up with shaking fingers. “I’ll try to be out
of your hair soon enough.”
Makoto urges Izumi down the hall, steering him to the washroom, then filling
one of the tubs with several pulls on the heavy steel pump. The little tub
fills slowly, in fitful spurts, but it does eventually fill. The tub is more
like a large, shallow barrel than any of the bathing pools from the North, and
Makoto wipes his brow, resentful. “These are awful, but it’s a bath. Ah, do you
want, I can help you in if...I mean, you’ve just been dead, so...”
I’m not an invalid, Izumi wants to snarl, but even standing is enough to make
his knees knock and wobble. “Just dump me in, then I can drown myself and die
again,” he dully says instead, tentatively shedding the borrowed robe. Even if
the bruises and cuts and stabs are gone, it still vaguely feels like they’re
there, and it’s impossible not to be self-conscious about it.
Makoto hesitates, but manages it, getting an arm around Izumi’s waist, then
hefting him up and in, though his arms tremble. “There we are, you’re--oh,
that’s right, you’ve always been good with cold, haven’t you? Ah, Lord Izumi is
still so impressive...”
The cold water is more of a relief than Izumi ever thought it could be, and he
sinks in all the way up to his chin without even a single second of hesitation.
His eyes flutter before they shut, and he dunks his head under in one, swift
slide.
Being cold and clean is so much better than it should be. He doesn’t come up
for several seconds, and when he does, he doesn’t bother blinking away the
water from his eyes. “Nothing has ever felt better,” he exhales, wiping his
hands down his face. “Ah, do you have a washrag or something? Sorry, I just
can’t remember the last time I’ve had a bath.”
“Hold on, let me find it...”
After a moment of searching, Makoto turns up a washrag and a sea sponge,
handing them over along with a handful of soap flakes. “I can get your back, if
you want...? Sorry, if I’m in the way, just tell me to go. I understand if you
want to be alone.”
“You don’t need to leave.” Izumi, first and foremost, scrubs his face until
it’s pink. It hurts, but that’s good, because it means he’s clean. “You’re not
in the way,” he adds on his next breath. “I just—hold on, I need to be neurotic
for a moment.”
Izumi holds his breath as he slinks underneath the water again, scrubbing at
his hair, soaking it thoroughly and cringing when he comes back up, watching
the dirty water run from it. “This is the worst,” he groans, shivering,
scrubbing at some of the more stubborn streaks of filth on his arms and chest.
“I’ve never been this dirty in my life. Could you get my back?”
“Of course, I’m here. I’ve--I’ve definitely got this.”
Makoto starts scrubbing, trying to be gentle. Izumi’s skin turns pink so
easily, then immediately fades back to his normal, cool-toned skin. “You
looked...pretty raw when you came in,” he says quietly. I had nightmares for
days.
“Yeah, I bet,” Izumi murmurs, trying not to flinch at the initial touch. It’s
Yuukun, he’s harmless, he’s fine, he’s good.Paranoia and nerves makes him
wonder if that’s true—how much can he really trust wizards still bound firmly
to the Academy right now, after all?—but what else is he supposed to do but
hope that it’s fine? If Mao is in on this, that bodes…at least somewhat well.
Even if Izumi doesn’t like him, Ritsu does, and Ritsu…the idea of him is a
comforting presence that makes Izumi force himself to relax. “I got the shit
beat out of me. Not fun, trust me.” He pushes his dripping bangs out of his
face, sucking in a slow breath. “I wonder how long that went on…ah…” There are
a dozen questions on his tongue, but he’s afraid to ask most of them. “I’m not
sure how much information you’re privy to, but…do you know if the prince is
alive?”
“Ah, no one knows?”
Makoto washes out his cloth, then starts washing Izumi’s back again, trying not
to hurt him. “There’s sort of a lot going on right now, honestly. I’ll try to,
hmm, sum up? I guess...you went missing, and the prince went missing, and
everyone went mental looking for you--there was some huge explosion, and the
wizards were all gone mad, and then your mother seceded and formed her own
country, and now she’s marching on the Capital--”
“Wait, wait, what?” Izumi interrupts, twisting around to look at Makoto, his
brow furrowed in disbelief. “Are you fucking with me? My mother what now?” He
has to cling to that line of thought instead of thinking about Leo, because if
Leo is still missing—that doesn’t bode well, does it? The thought that he’s
dead, after all that, makes despair sink deep into his stomach, leaving him
sick and all the more exhausted. “By wizards…do you mean the ones with Sir
Arashi’s army? Or just in general? How long agowas all of this? I know you said
I’ve been…in transit for two weeks, but…”
“That’s a lot of questions,” Makoto protests. “What do you want to know first?”
Izumi opens his mouth to answer that, then sighs, shaking his head, slinking
down further into the water. “Forget it,” he mumbles, turning to drape himself
over the side of the tub. “I don’t care, I want to go to bed.” Not knowing
about Leo won’t stop bothering him, and he sniffs, the stinging prick of tears
to his eyes something he can’t be bothered to stop right now. I don’t want to
be alive if he’s dead. “Can you help me up? My legs still don’t want to work
correctly.”
Makoto gets his arm around Izumi again, ignoring the way it makes his whole
body wet, dragging him out of the tub. Then he grabs his Dawncloak, tugging it
around him again, then turns around. “Do you want to ride on my back?” he
suggests. “Then we can figure out what to do next. What do you want to do, Lord
Izumi? Go to the North and calm your mother down? They say she’s roused an army
of ice drakes, isn’t that terrifying?”
“No. She’s lying.” Izumi lurches forward, simply latching himself to Makoto’s
arm, chin hooked over his shoulder. Makoto is soft, and warm, and his touch
isn’t at all terrible, and that makes him shiver anew, clinging harder to him.
“I don’t want to do anything. I just want to go to sleep.”
Makoto swallows. “Yeah, okay. Ah, there’s another option, if you want, but
I’ll...ahh, I should wait until you wake up, I’ll tell you about the plan then,
all right?”
“Maybe I don’t want to wake up. Carry me back, princess style.”
“Um, okay!”
Makoto gets an arm under Izumi’s legs, lifts him for a whole two seconds, and
then falls to his knees as his legs buckle. “Sorry, Lord Izumi! Ah, I’m just
not really that strong, physically speaking...”
“Why even offer in the first place, then?” Izumi mutters, even as he flops onto
the floor, arms firmly around Makoto’s neck. “It’s just Izumi, I’m not a lord.
Help me back up, then, I’m going to bed whether you can carry me or not.”
Makoto struggles to his feet, managing a sort of shuffling drag, getting Izumi
a step closer to his bed every time. “Um, you’ve always been my lord, though.
And you always will be, right? Whether you inherit or not...”
Izumi half-heartedly shoves a hand over Makoto’s mouth. “Just Izumi,” he
tiredly sighs. “Got it? It’s so annoying when you’re like that, Yuukun, don’t
talk about me inheriting anything right now.”
When he finally ends up dumped into bed, it’s a relief, and he grabs for
Makoto’s arm, dragging him partially onto the bed as well. “I’m cold.” Not the
pleasant kind of cold—the kind of cold that comes from utter exhaustion, which
apparently, just getting up and walking to take a bath causes now. “Come here.”
“I--oh!”
Makoto resists initially out of inertia, more than anything else, and the
conviction that something is going to go horribly wrong if he allows this--
But Izumi had been dead. Seeing him on that cold table had almost stopped
Makoto’s heart. So he lets Izumi pull him close, and even timidly extends his
own arms, pulling him close. “I don’t think I’m that warm, but you can take all
of mine, if you can.”
Izumi immediately buries himself into Makoto’s hold. It’s impossible not to
when the touch is offered, warm in spite of Makoto’s words saying that he’s
otherwise, careful and timid and gentle. “Don’t worry,” he breathes, stuffing
his face into Makoto’s neck. “I won’t do anything. I know the rules. I just
want you to hold me for a little while, you feel good.”
Makoto exhales deeply, and tucks Izumi’s head under his chin. “I just want you
to feel better,” he says earnestly, tightening his arms. “Ah...this kind of
feels like it used to, you know? When the bunch of us got lost on the trails,
and you rode out and found us, but it was too late to go back? I
still...remember, you taking care of me.”
“You were pretty weak then, too,” comes Izumi’s muffled response. His arms
slowly curl around Makoto, clinging to him. The idea of pulling away right now
hurts him, so hopefully Makoto won’t mind staying like this for awhile. “You
weren’t good with the cold, some Northerner you were.” He exhales a soft, wet
breath. “I missed you, when they took you away.”
“I...” Makoto buries his face in Izumi’s soft hair. It’s too short, and he
hates that. It’s always been so long and gorgeous, and he’s heard them whisper,
in the North, that it’s driven men mad. “They beat me, for talking about you
too much. So I stopped. But I’ve had dreams, lots of them, that we’re still
back home. I guess...I guess you were always like home for me, even more than
my mother.”
At that, Izumi laughs, soft and hoarse. “That’s probably ‘cause your mother was
a bitch,” he mutters unrepentantly, his fingers curling against Makoto’s back.
“Sorry that they punished you because of me. I…heh. In the capital, I never got
to brag about how my first kiss was from a cute boy, because they frown on
that, you know.”
Makoto blushes fiercely. “You’d think...that after all we’ve been through, I’d
forget, or think of something more important, but I still think about it all
the time. Heh, no wonder, I think about it every time someone mentions kisses,
it’s my only one so far.”
“That’s a crying shame,” Izumi sighs, shutting his eyes as he noses against
Makoto’s neck in an attempt to plaster himself closer. His limbs just
periodically want to shake, achy and overly exhausted as his body still tries
to process fixing every single little thing wrong with him. “I dunno. I think
it’s important. I didn’t forget it, either.”
“I figured you did. They told me you would. That’s something they do, Mao told
me. They tell you that everyone’s forgotten you, so you’re only loyal to them.”
Makoto sucks in a shuddering breath, limbs trembling. “The Academy is...really
brutal, actually. Oh, I shouldn’t be saying this, but Mao says they can’t hear
me right now, so...and talking to you always....made me feel better.”
“You can say whatever you want. I’m not going to repeat any of it.” Not that I
have anyone to repeat it to—probably.The thought pricks sharp tears into his
eyes, and Izumi swallows, his nails digging briefly into Makoto’s back before
releasing again. “I didn’t forget you. I thought about you all the time.”
Makoto’s heart flutters, and he squeezes his eyes closed, hands fisting in the
blankets behind Izumi’s back. “I mean, they have to be harsh, because otherwise
our magic might go wild, you know? So they have to be careful. One rogue wizard
can do awful things, so we’re very...trained.” A shiver goes up his spine,
thinking of the long days alone, the beatings, the starvings, the switchings,
the lectures that had been worst of all. “They test you all the time. I’m not
even sure that this isn’t a test, heh. They’d look...really real. Like, if
there was a pretty serving girl--I was thirteen, and she’d always smile at me,
and I blushed, and she asked if she could come back to my room, and I said
yes...”
“Yeah, like a normal kid,” Izumi mutters crossly, squeezing his eyes shut in
irritation. “I think that’s bullshit, sorry. I…I know rogue wizards.” He can
say it when no one’s listening, who cares. It’s not like it matters if they
come and kill him for it, anyway. “And trust me, they have sex like normal
humans and nothing bad happens. The Academy is just needlessly tormenting you,
it’s terrible.”
“Eh? It...it can’t be for no reason,” Makoto mutters, frowning to himself. “I
mean, they might not be right all the time, but they’ve got to be right
sometimes, otherwise why would they do it?”
“Because they’re trying to control you.” Izumi shakes his head against Makoto’s
chest. “Obviously. If you’ve got a lover, then they have less control over you.
That’s how it is.”
“Oh.” Makoto thinks about that for a moment, then defiantly throws a leg over
Izumi’s body, pulling him closer. “Well, just so you know, I’ve been sort
of...in contact with some r-rebels. I know, it doesn’t sound like me, you
probably don’t believe me, but it’s true.”
Izumi blinks against Makoto’s chest, startled by the sudden, additional
closeness—but he doesn’t flinch away. Makoto is Makoto, and that means warm and
careful, and that makes him relax with a slow, trembling little sigh. “Who?” he
quietly asks, not doubting Makoto. Instead, his fingers curl against Makoto’s
back again, slowly fisting into his clothing.
“A friend. He’s the captain of the guard at the royal residence of High Harbor.
And he’s in contact with some people that really know what they’re doing,
seriously! Like...” Makoto lowers his voice, then lets his eyes flick around,
and whispers, “The Demon King.”
That name again. Izumi’s eyes lid as he heaves another sigh. “That’s
promising,” he says with a soft laugh, nosing against Makoto’s neck. “Maybe
he’ll do something, hmm? Before all of this happened…the prince and I were
talking about how to influence the Academy. I hate how they treat wizards, and
he…he does, too.”
“You cared about me that much?” Makoto’s voice is low, bewildered, but warm.
“Heh, I really didn’t think I was on your mind at all, all those years.” Not
like you were on mine.
“I mean…mm. Yeah, I was worried about you, and about what was happening to you,
but…to be perfectly honest, for awhile, I thought I was a wizard, too, you
know.” Izumi’s expression shifts wry. “So I guess my worries were partly
selfish. I didn’t want to be sent away. I didn’t want to lose a chance to be a
knight. That’s moot point now, of course.”
“They talk about you,” Makoto says, very quietly. “They said you don’t want to
be a knight. That plenty of people have offered you the chance and you won’t
take it.”
Plenty of people.Bits and pieces of that list filter through Izumi’s mind, and
his jaw tightens, as does his hold on Makoto. “I refuse to swear to anyone that
isn’t the prince, and I can’t do that until he’s king. That’s why.”
“Oh.”
That makes more sense than Makoto wants it to, and his blood pulses cold. “When
they sent me the...you...the body...they said it was the body of a traitor.
When I saw that it was you, I just thought they got it wrong, because your face
was...”
“Yeah. Like I said, they beat the shit out of me.” Izumi’s voice is flat, a
little cold. “They can say I’m a traitor all they want, but I’m not. I’d follow
the prince to the grave.”
“...In the Academy,” Makoto says carefully, “they teach us that swearing to
obey anyone other than the King is treason.”
“The prince’ll be king one day. It’s fucking semantics if you ask me. Can
we…not talk about this right now?” His head throbs. “I didn’t do anything
wrong, wanting to serve him.”
“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry, Lord Izumi! I just, ah, wanted to know how they could
make such a stupid mistake, you know? Um, are you warmer now?”
“Just Izumi, for the last time.” Izumi huddles against Makoto’s chest. “No, I’m
not warmer. Keep holding me. What other shit did they say about me?”
“That’s it, all that happened! They just dumped you on my table and said I
should take some time to learn about destroying all magical traces on a
traitor’s body.” Makoto shivers. “I thought it was a test, when I found out it
was you. But...I couldn’t ignore it, even if it was a test. So I smuggled you
out and into my room.”
“…You’re an idiot.”
“...I know.” Makoto shrugs. “But what else could I have done? I couldn’t poke
and prod at you like that, I couldn’t. I thought I could at least get you home
to your mother. But then you started healing...”
“Mm. Yeah. My body does that.” The words are wry, more than a little tired. “A
pain in the ass if you ask me. Ah…I wanted to die so badly. I should have,
seriously.” Izumi shivers, rubbing his face into Makoto’s chest. “That fucking
collar…that thing was the worst. I’ve never felt pain like that.”
“That was nasty,” Makoto agrees with a shudder. “They shouldn’t even make
things like that--if it was a wizard that made it, it was a bad one, or one
that didn’t really want it to succeed. More likely it was done by someone out-
realm. I heard the Inglings have their own kind of wizard, but they’re too rare
to go to war.”
“It felt like I was going to burn alive from the inside.” Izumi squeezes Makoto
tighter, his eyes unfocusing as he talks. “It was so bad I couldn’t really even
move most of the time, which made it so much worse, you know? It’s one thing to
be able to fight back, even if you lose, but when you’re just kind of stuck in
your own head…”
He trails off with a shudder, and his nails bite into Makoto’s back. “I don’t
know why nobles would have something Ingling-made. I don’t want to think about
it too much. Ahh, I don’t even know how they found out I was a half-blood, I
haven’t even known for that long…” 
“So...it’s true.” Makoto shakes his head, wondering. “I thought your father was
a commoner, we all did. What....what was he? Do you know him?”
“No. I’ve never met him.” Izumi’s head shakes slowly against Makoto’s chest. “A
friend of mine told me he was an ice drake.”
“Oh, gods and powers and the Emperor’s holy boots,” Makoto breathes, horrified.
“Does that--does that mean your mother is telling the truth, and she really is
leading an army of them to get your bones recovered?”
“If she is, it’s news to me that she knows them personally,” Izumi groans.
“Don’t tense up, I hate that, keep cuddling me. I can’t say I’m entirely
surprised she jumped to threats like that—she’s always had a short temper—but
I…it’s probably an empty threat, about the ice drakes. Probably.”
“They say she’s on the march.” Makoto tries to make his body soft and warm and
pliable, though the idea of Izumi’s mother alone is enough to make him pale on
most days. “But...if we’re going to go to High Harbor, we’re not going to cross
her path. Don’t you want to let her know you’re okay?”
“No. I want her to rip the capital apart.”
“Oh.” Makoto’s stomach flops, but he tries hard not to tense up. “What if she
gets hurt? Or the others in the North? You’re the heir, still. We believe in
you.”
Izumi says nothing for a long moment, and then: “I don’t want to think about it
right now.” The words come out far more tired than he wants, and he shuts his
eyes. “I’ve been a pretty shitty heir,” he mutters. “I don’t want it anymore.
If the prince is dead, then I don’t want to be a knight, either. It doesn’t
matter.”
“It matters to me.”
Makoto flushes, and he tightens his arms, embarrassed. “N-not that what I think
should matter, sorry, I’m not--I’m not even technically a Northerner anymore,
they took my heritage and everything, but...we remember. I remember. Knowing
you were going to lead us one day--they all used to talk about it, especially
in the winter--the fine strong young lord, out in the snow looking for lost
kittens, like we’d all be safe one day as long as you were still alive.”
“That’s a load of shit.” Makoto’s words drag him abruptly back to the panic
he’d felt in that alleyway—his inability to act fast enough, his stupidity, his
arrogance in thinking he was good enough no matter what—and all Izumi can see
for a moment is the knife against Leo’s throat, the slice of it into his flesh,
the gushing red blood—“I’m not capable of saving anyone,” he whispers, his
hands trembling against Makoto’s back. “They killed Leo right in front of me
and I couldn’t do anything. I shouldn’t be a knight, I shouldn’t be anyone’s
heir. I should be dead.”
“S-sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything--I knew I couldn’t help, I’m an idiot,
I’m sorry, please don’t be mad,” Makoto pleads, backtracking immediately,
feeling like he’s ruined everything again. “I just meant that I’m glad you’re
not dead, is all. My friend, you’ll like him, he has a way of putting
everything into perspective. He told me I wasn’t born to be a slave, you know?”
“I’m not mad at you, stop apologizing.” I wish I was dead, it doesn’t matter
what you think about it. There’s no point in saying it out loud again, not when
he already feels shitty enough. “Your friend’s right. But I don’t want to meet
him, just let me live here in your bed.”
There’s a burning tension in Makoto that makes him want to encourage Izumi to
get up and fight, to stop giving up, to head for the Capital with his sword
shining in the morning light, armed with justice and the truth on his side.
But he doesn’t have ay of the words that would let him do that. He’s never been
able to encourage anyone to do anything, and this is a big thing. So instead,
he just curls up, mutters, “I can only sleep until dawn,” and closes his eyes.
“That’s fine.” Izumi’s eyes slide shut, and his fingers splay against Makoto’s
back, intent on keeping him close. As long as you’re staying here with me.
“Thank you,” he quietly adds, and slowly lets himself drift into the first real
sleep he’s had in what must be weeks.
***** Chapter 17 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
The King’s first official statement in weeks is not exactly what most people
anticipate. Rather than call out the army marching South towards the Capital,
rather than decry the supposed treason of his son and his friends, his
announcement backs off, weak and ineffective. Officially, the king is
horrified, both at the death of the Sena heir and the disappearance of his own
son.“Let us come together and defeat their killers together,” his statement
declares, pointing the finger directly at the Demon King of the Shadowlands.
“This dangerous menace has raised his head again, and we must defeat him as
soon as possible, along with the rogue factions he has bewitched. All those
ensnared by his lies will be given pardons when they return to their senses.”
Makoto stares at the proclamation, then tucks it hurriedly into his pocket when
he hears Izumi returning from the washroom. There have been...many baths, over
the past several days. It’s hard not to feel, with an odd warming sensation
that he’s not sure is good or bad, like he’s acquired a live-in lover, without
the sex. “The mail didn’t come,” he lies, nervous and difficult to believe.
Izumi stares at him, the door clicking shut behind him. No matter how many
times he scrubs himself until his skin is nearly raw, he doesn’t entirely feel
clean—and watching Makoto lie to his face makes it even more obvious as to why.
“What happened?” The question is a quiet one. It’s not necessarily an
accusation, but Izumi has learned that Makoto is a worse liar than even he, and
he simply doesn’t have time for it, besides. He settles down onto the bed,
wrapping Makoto’s permanently borrowed Dawncloak around himself more tightly.
His hair—trimmed properly with a knife now, falling in neatly mussed, even
curls about his face instead of the terrible, uneven chop of before—drips cold
water slowly. “Just tell me.”
Makoto grimaces, then passes over the missive. “I just couldn’t figure out how
to tell you,” he admits. “Do you think it’s the truth? I mean, do you think the
king believes it’s the truth? He might, if he’s being told false information.”
Izumi takes it, reads it, and feels that cold, tired dread he’s been warding
off sink deep into his belly.
He swallows and crumples it up, hands shaking. “It doesn’t matter if he thinks
it’s the truth or not,” he softly says. “If he’s declaring the prince dead,
then he’s done with him either way. He’s giving in to the fact his only real
heir now is his wife’s disgusting brother.”
“What should we do?” The words are pitiful, not enough, kind of stupid, Makoto
knows, but Izumi has always been smarter, cooler, better at just about
everything, and quicker-thinking than him, has always known what to do in hard
times.
Izumi shrugs before he can stop himself. “I’d say get the hell out of the
capital, but…I’ve been informed wizards aren’t so great at running away,” he
wearily says. “So I don’t know. I don’t know how long I can even keep staying
here until you start being questioned about where the hell my dead body is. I…I
haven’t really thought of what to do about any of this, I’ll be honest.”
“Damn,” Makoto says softly, and flops onto the bed, laying his head on Izumi’s
shoulder. “I was hoping you had a plan. I’ve been telling my superiors that I’m
still working on the corpse, but they’re going to figure it out soon. I did
send a letter to my friend Subaru, so hopefully he’ll get back to me soon.”
“I haven’t had a plan since…since the prince was murdered.” That missive could
easily just be misinformation, but it feels so much more final, seeing it in
writing like that, hearing that the king believes it, too. Izumi swallows,
listing to the side, until he can grab for Makoto properly. “If he really is
dead,” he quietly says, “I’m not interested in whatever war the Demon King is
trying to fight. I just don’t care. We can just run away.”
“Or,” Makoto says, voice shaking a little at the sheer audacity of what he’s
about to say, “we can...not run away. We could go up to the North, with your
mother. But we don’t have to calm her down.” He swallows hard. “We could join
her. And really march on the Capital. You’d be a better king.”
If Izumi really is a test, he’s dead.
At that, Izumi laughs, but it’s less amused, more startled that words like that
came from Makoto’s mouth. “That’s something you’ve thought about for awhile,
huh,” he murmurs, leaning back to peer at him, head tilting. “Literally anyone
would be a better king than this fuckwit. That doesn’t mean it should be me.”
“But you’re a great man.” Makoto fiddles with the edges of the blanket, face
flushed in embarrassment. “Ah...you probably don’t want to hear that from
someone weak and stupid like me. But I’ve always...you’re easy to look up to.
You seem like a great leader to me.”
“I don’t think you’re weak and stupid.” Izumi reaches out to gently swat at the
side of Makoto’s head. “Don’t say things like that about yourself. I’m
just…heh. Look at me, I’m a mess. How great can I really be, hmm? Are you sure
you don’t just think I’m pretty?”
“I--no, I don’t--I definitely don’t just think you’re pretty, of course you
are, but that’s not--”
Makoto feels the redness increase, and he jumps up from the bed, rubbing the
back of his head. “Ahhh, I’m an idiot, I should go--”
“No, Yuukun—come back, there’s blockers still everywhere, remember? No one can
hear you,” Izumi exasperatedly points out, grabbing Makoto’s hand to try and
pull him back down next to him. He doesn’t pull too hard—wizards are still
delicate, flighty things, he’s learned that well—but the intention is still
there. “I’m teasing you. Relax. I, ah, didn’t expect a suggestion like that
from you. I’ve never…I never thought about becoming king, ever.”
“I don’t care if anyone else hears me,” Makoto mutters, face turned away in
flaming embarrassment. “I didn’t want you to hear me. I...you’re a very special
person, I’m not really good at anything and I’m not brave or strong or
interesting or talented like you, I should just get back to my studies instead
of bothering you.”
“Botheringme?” Izumi blinks at him, his brow furrowing. “First of all, you’re
not bothering me. Second of all, Yuukun…you’re a wizard chosen to work in the
capital, that’s pretty damn special.” He hesitates, then reaches up, carefully
pushing Makoto’s hair out of his face. “I’m fairly certain I’m the one
bothering you and ruining your life, considering I’m the one hiding out in your
home and constantly stealing your bed and clothes.”
“But I like you doing that.” Makoto tries to look away, wishing there were a
way to hide his face properly when Izumi is so close to him, mortified at how
close they are. “You’re the most interesting thing that’s ever happened to me.
I...ah, you’re really close to me, your face...” Your mouth, more like, but he
isn’t sure how to really say that.
“Well, I don’t know what you think constitutes as ‘bothering’ me, but if it’s
just you talking to me or being around me, then it’s a given I like that, too,”
Izumi grumbles, his lower lip jutting in a pout as he tugs on a strand of
Makoto’s hair. “What about my face? Listen, Yuukun, if there’s one thing that
does bother me, it’s you still trying to lie or avoid saying things outright.
Just…don’t, okay? You’re…” The only thing I’ve got left, basically.
Makoto opens his mouth, but the words won’t come. Izumi is just too much, too
large a presence in his life, too much dominating his thoughts, and before he
can think of whether he’s doing anything right or wrong, he leans forward,
pressing a kiss to Izumi’s mouth on a whim, then pulling back with dread
pooling in his stomach. “I...oh, god, I’m sorry, you can’t have wanted that--”
Oh. Izumi blinks again, but otherwise goes still. Fair enough, his mind points
out. Maybe if he hadn’t been so focused on…anything else, he would have noticed
Makoto’s interest, clear as day. But he’s a wizard, a little warning bell
rings, and then he has to laugh at himself. Who fucking cares, honestly? What’s
one more crime he can be accused of—and can a dead man even be accused of
anything?
“Come here.” Izumi finally moves and grabs at Makoto’s hands, pulling him
forward. Makoto is so nervous, so terrified of rejection that…he’s harmless,
right? It makes his own niggling uncertainty (a new, unpleasant emotion when
he’s kissed, for sure) waver. “You can do that again.”
“You’re...you’re very handsome, Lord Izumi,” Makoto says quietly, his voice
shaky and uncertain. He hugs himself, flushed and awkward, but shifting
slightly closer. “I just d-doubled my lifetime number of kisses.”
“Not good enough. Let’s triple them.” Izumi squeezes Makoto’s hands before
releasing them and crawling over, gently catching his face in his hands. “Just
Izumi, I’m telling you,” he softly scolds, his heart starting to thud out of
his chest. You’re going to ruin everything for him, too! his mind screams, and
Izumi’s hands tremble. “Sorry,” he whispers. “You don’t have to, I just…”
Makoto leans in, cutting Izumi off with another chaste kiss, all he knows about
kissing, a brief press of lips to lips. “Is--is that all right?” he asks, voice
hushed, even the tips of his ears flushing.
Izumi’s fingers slide back through Makoto’s hair, firmly tugging him forward
before he second guesses this entire thing once more. This time, he kisses
Makoto properly, lips parting, teeth gently catching at Makoto’s lower lip,
tongue running over the swell of it before he draws back, shivering. “That’s
properly tripled,” he murmurs, eyes lidded. “Just part your lips a little, I’ll
show you how to really kiss.”
“I definitely should not be doing this,” Makoto whispers, still terrified that
at any moment, the hunters and sniffers could burst in through the door--but
Mao had said he was hidden, hadn’t he? Isn’t it all right, aren’t they already
traitors? It all makes his head hurt, so he squeezes his eyes shut, then opens
his mouth, leaning in.
Izumi catches that mouth again with his own, a little, careful swipe of his
tongue following when his own lips part. This is a relief, even if it’s stupid
to even think of doing this—Makoto isn’t demanding anything of him, he’s just
soft and nervous and his mouth is comfortingly warm, and Izumi groans in the
back of his throat, scooting forward until he’s nearly climbing into Makoto’s
lap when he coaxes Makoto into kissing him back, sucking on his tongue.
Warmth spreads through Makoto at an alarming rate. He shifts forwards, wincing
when he feels himself get hard, then immediately fill out far too much space in
his underwear, pressed against the hard wooden insert as he leans forward
again, letting his hands come up to touch Izumi’s face, that perfect pale,
smooth skin that haunts his dreams.
Izumi sighs, his eyes fluttering as he leans into the touch, gently nipping at
Makoto’s lower lip again. “Yuukun,” he murmurs, his fingers sliding down from
Makoto’s hair, slowly curling against his shoulders.
“Exactly how good do you think my blockers are?”
Izumi jerks back with a hiss, his eyes narrowed at Mao, who stands in the
doorway. Mao scowls, slamming it shut behind him. “Makoto, honestly. You’re
lucky I was in the area, or you could have gotten yourself into some serious
trouble.”
“Fuck off,” Izumi bites out, his arms firmly thrown around Makoto’s neck to
remain fastened to him.
Makoto tries to duck away, but freezes, his worst fears coming true as Mao
catches him in the act of everything he’s not supposed to do. “I-I-I’m so
sorry,” he stammers, unable to meet Mao’s eyes, taking a deep breath to try and
calm his physical reactions. It’s still hard to believe that Mao isn’t going to
tell on him. “P-please don’t send me for re-education, I’m sorry--”
“I’m not sending you anywhere, calm down.”
“If you try,” Izumi lowly says, tightening his hold on Makoto, “I’ll kill you.”
Mao wipes a hand down his face, an exasperated sigh escaping his lips.
“Honestly, I’m not surprised, but that doesn’t make this any less troublesome.
You’re both lucky that the entire Academy is preoccupied with far more
important things right now—and again, that I was here.Ahh, I knew this was
going to happen…”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Izumi demands, visibly bristling even more.
“Get out.”
Makoto frowns, confused. “I’m not really sure,” he confesses. “At the Academy,
they said that nothing could hide your misbehavior from a sniffer, but...I
mean, there were always rumors that it was a lie.”
“The only reason no one’s coming to drag you back to the Academy right now is
because I’m here,” Mao reminds him, and he glances around the room, sighs, and
goes about the process of refreshing those damned blockers as much as possible.
“What are you planning, Sena?”
“I’m not planning anything.”
“Look, I know you don’t care for me, but I’m on your side. It’s in your best
interest to tell me so I can—“
“I’m not planning anything, for the last time!”
Izumi’s voice cracks, verging on hysterical as he abruptly untangles himself
from Makoto and dives to the other side of the bed, wrapped up tightly in
Makoto’s cloak. “I don’t know why you all think I’m planning something, why you
think I want anything to do with any of this, why you t-think I can actually do
anything! I don’t care, I don’t, I just want you to l-leave me alone!”
Mao opens his mouth to reply to that, then shuts it again, shutting his eyes
briefly. Right. So, half-bloods, as he’s found on several occasions, are just
as volatile as wizards on any given day. “Sure. Okay.” He rubs at the bridge of
his nose. “I’m sure you received the king’s latest missive, then. Both you and
the prince are officially—“
“Dead.” Izumi finishes the sentence flatly. “Good.”
Mao glances to Makoto instead, his stare weary. “Have you heard from Akehoshi?”
“Not yet.” Makoto stares after Izumi, heart sinking, stomach twisting as he
sees him implode on himself. Izumi is so strong, so cool--how awful must that
beating have been, to change him into someone like this? “He usually sends
messages around this time of day, though. Ah, Lord Izumi, if I can get you
anything--”
A head pops up in the window of Makoto’s room, an oddly uniform silhouette
until the helmet comes off, revealing messy, wild orange curls that have been
survived being cropped close into an enlisted military haircut time and time
again, only to come back more wild. “Ukki! Hi! Ooh, you have friends, nice!”
Izumi’s teeth bare in a snarl, and he yanks the cloak up and over his head.
Mao frowns. So much for subtlety, apparently—but he’s learned that most people
can’t even come close to grasping that concept. “Don’t just stay out there,
come inside,” he scolds. “You’ll draw too much attention here, and we’ve
already had too many close calls.”
Subaru shimmies inside, landing in an easy flip, cheerfully oblivious to the
mood in the room. “Hi!” he declares again, arms akimbo. “Ready to go?”
“Ehh?” Makoto stands, incredibly confused. “Go? Me? Where? Why?”
“Oh! Go to High Harbor, of course.” Subaru beams. “To meet the Demon King! And
the other guy.” Subaru grins even wider, nodding at Makoto and Izumi and Mao in
turn. “We can all come, it’ll be fun!”
“We aren’t just taking off out of the blue,” Mao firmly says, folding his arms
across his chest. “I haven’t heard word from my master yet. Do you know how
difficult it is to conceal a wizard while traveling, also? Ahh, what am I
saying, of course you don’t know…”
“I don’t care about the Demon King.” Izumi burrows down further into Makoto’s
cloak. “Good night.”
“Don’t go to sleep! Ugh, you’re all giving me a headache.”
“Lord Subaru,” Makoto says, hurrying over, “I thought you were going to come
here to give us a message about what to do. Ah, I’m not sure your master knows
the situation...I’m going to write him a letter real quick, please take it to
him?”
Subaru’s face falls. “I’m supposed to bring you. Okaaaay, he doesn’t really
care if I bring you, but it’s the best idea, for sure, and he listens to my
ideas! Monkey, you have anything to say to him?”
“Don’t call me that.” Mao hesitates, sparing a wary glance towards Makoto
before he sighs, shrugging. “I’m waiting for a message from him myself. You
know I’m bound to the Academy’s rules as much as I am him, or everything is
going to completely fall apart. That being said…”
This can’t continue. It’s only a matter of time before Makoto’s supervisors
realize that the corpse he was supposed to poke and prod at is simply gone, and
with such a high profile associated with it, it’s going to happen sooner,
rather than later. The task of constantly putting blockers on this place is
also taking a toll on him, and after what he’s seen today, Mao isn’t sure how
effective that’s going to be for much longer. “Come for the two of them
tonight. If you’re going to be traveling with a wizard, he has to be properly
hidden, and I don’t have the ability to do that myself. I have to bring someone
who can before you leave.”
“And you, right?” Subaru tugs on Mao’s sleeve, hope in his eyes. “You’re coming
too, right? The day is coming that you don’t have to hide and pretend anymore,
you can be yourself and not have to play by their rules!”
Makoto frowns, looking back at Mao. He’d never really thought of Mao as hiding-
-he always just seems annoyed, not like he’s hiding much of himself. I must be
so annoying to him,he thinks sadly.He’s trying so hard to bring about his
revolution, and I just care about myself...I really am weak.
“I’ll come when I can,” Mao gently says, patting Subaru’s hand. “If I leave too
soon—that could be an irreparable mistake. I can’t risk that for everyone, you
know? So let me contact my friend and I’ll make sure you all get away safely.”
“Yuukun.” Izumi shifts underneath the cloak, reaching out one grasping, pale
hand. “Come over here and cuddle me or I’ll be mad.”
“If they stay here another day, the Academy is going to come down upon us
immediately,” Mao lowly mutters. “Wizards and half-bloods aren’t a good mix,
are you sure you’ll be okay traveling with them?”
“Sure! I’ve got a sword,” Subaru assures him, patting Mao on the head in turn.
“And the Demon King was nice enough to give me a huge pouch of shiny coins! If
anyone comes at us, I’ll throw one of them really high, so they’ll be
distracted while we get away.”
Makoto edges to the side, getting his arms around Izumi, feeling the warmth
start to leech from his bones in a newly-familiar sensation.
Mao exhales a strangled, stressed noise, and wipes his hands down his face.
“Fine,” he says anyway, shaking his head as he steps back. “If my master thinks
you’re capable, then I don’t have anything to say.”
Izumi relaxes bonelessly, curling up into Makoto’s hold, and Mao spares that
one last glance before deciding to just…wash his hands of it for now. What else
can he do? At least they’ll be on the road soon enough, and if he can put the
right precautions into place, that will be much safer than being here. “I’ll be
back tonight,” he says, unlocking the door. “Behave until then.”
And with that, he pulls his cloak up over his head and leaves, hanging a last
ward onto the door before shutting it firmly behind himself.
 
~
 
Ritsu has many patrons, but the woman he currently has the favor of within the
capital itself is older. She’s a sweet noblewoman, a widower, but she has a
tendency of being too touchy, and Mao experiences this first hand when he
inquires on Ritsu’s location, and ends up being pointed to a small, poorly
known pub on the corner of town—but not without having his rear pinched and
squeezed. Honestly.
The pub is more or less empty except for Ritsu, drinking in late afternoon. Mao
scowls, staring at him, watching him slump over the table, moping and sniffling
around his ale. “If you’re going to be like this,” he flatly ‘greets’, “at
least do it in private.”
Ritsu mumbles something unintelligible, tears dripping from his nose. He hardly
looks up, even though the sight of Mao is a reassuring, friendly sight. “Whassa
point?” he says with a sniff, pouring another gulp of ale into his mouth. He
doesn’t feel it anymore, like he hasn’t felt his teeth or toes for hours. “You
shoul’ go. You’ll just...You’ll die too. Ev’ryone...I know.”
“You’re making a fool out of yourself,” Mao exasperatedly says, tossing down a
few coins onto the table as he grabs Ritsu by the arm, hauling him out of his
seat. When Ritsu makes no attempt to really stand on his own, he sighs. “We’re
going,” he says. “So you have two options. I’ll carry you like a sack of grain,
or you can climb on my back.”
“Your back is reserved for me,” Ritsu mumbles to himself, letting Mao tug him
into place, sniffling and dripping from the nose. “Ev’ryone I love. Ev’ryone I
only...kinda like. Dead. I’d rather be grain.”
Mao says nothing about that, and simply hefts Ritsu up, tossing up and over his
shoulder as if he weighs nothing. His horse awaits outside, tethered to his
post, and before Mao tosses Ritsu up into the saddle, he sets Ritsu onto the
ground, grabs a bucket of cold rainwater, and dumps it over Ritsu’s head.
“Pull yourself together.” He pulls off his own cloak, thrusting it in Ritsu’s
direction. “We don’t have time for you to cry over false information.”
Ritsu gasps in the cold water deluge, floundering like a confused fish. “Pleh!
Maao, why?!”
“Because you’re drunk and useless right now, and I need you to be everything
but.” Mao hesitates before leaning down, his voice dropping to a low whisper.
“They aren’t dead. The Sena heir, or the prince. They might end up dead,
however, if you don’t help.”
Red eyes widen, and Ritsu lurches up, burning his inner reserves of power to
destroy the alcohol in his system immediately. He scrambles into the saddle
properly, yanking Mao up with one hand. “Lead,” he orders, arms tightening
around Mao’s waist.
“That’s more like it,” Mao mutters, spinning his horse with a firm hand and
heel. “I’ll brief you. Sena ended up here as a research subject for the
Academy. They absolutely thought he was dead, and assigned his corpse to one of
my charges, Makoto. You know, the sweet blond one.” He heaves a sigh, urging
his horse along one of the less traveled paths around the city. “He proceeded
to smuggle him to his living quarters and has been taking care of him. It’s a
mess, as you might imagine, but he is alive. They just can’t stay here any
longer.”
“And the prince? He’s alive too?” Ritsu demands, hands tightening on Mao’s
shirt. “Ahh, I knew Izumi wouldn’t die so easy, but the king...that bastard.
Maao, you dumped water on me, the least you can do is give me a little
drink...”
“Stop it, not in public,” Mao mutters, leaning forward a bit more to avoid the
inevitability of Ritsu’s mouth on his neck. “The prince is alive, too. He’s not
here. He’s in High Harbor, at my master’s estate.”
“And Arashi?”
“As far as I know, Sir Arashi is there as well, as well as the two wizards from
his army.” Mao hesitates, glancing down at the reins in his hands. “My master
was…very adamant, about His Excellency Shu being returned to him.”
Ritsu’s eyes sharpen, breath quickening in excitement as he leans forward, as
if that’ll make the horse go faster. “You’ve gotta tell me about your master
sometime,” he complains. “Who’s this guy, that’s so powerful? I want my friends
back, I’m gonna bite your master.”
“Ritsu.” Now’s as good a time as any, probably. Maybe with this information,
Ritsu will be even more inclined to go above and beyond in helping them. “My
master is your brother, the Demon King.”
Ritsu feels his heart stop.
Thoughts race through his head, chasing each other at high speeds, as his
stomach plummets. Anger, relief, betrayal--from his brother, from Mao, from
everyone who has ever kept this from him--loop through him, and his nails grow
longer, his fangs lengthening in his mouth as he lets out a low hiss, grabbing
Mao by the back of his shirt and yanking him off the horse, holding him one-
handed in the air as he rides. “Ma~ao,” he says quietly, dangerously, “that
sounds like the kind of thing...you really should have told me.”
Mao yelps, scrabbling at his horse’s saddle to keep from dangling.
“Ritsu—Ritsu, I couldn’t, damn it!” he snaps, craning his neck to try and
glower up at him. “I work for the Academy! If I had told you when I met you, it
could have ruined everything! It was important that I kept my mouth shut, so
that your brother could come back to power—so that we could get a better king
on the throne—you name it, there are good reasons, I swear, I wasn’t just
fucking with you!”
Ritsu’s arm doesn’t waver, bolstered by his magical nature, though he’s burning
through it at an alarming rate. Still, this is important, so he continues
dangling, face dark. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he demands again, as if he
hadn’t heard. “None of that shit means anything. I thought he was dead for
decades, you’re supposed to be my friend--he’s right, you can’t trust any
humans. I thought you were different.”
“Damn it, Ritsu, listen to me for five seconds! If you don’t let me back in the
damned saddle, I’ll put a ward on you myself so we can have a real
conversation.” Mao grinds his teeth together. “It wasn’t safe for him to reveal
himself yet. I don’t know all of the details, but all I know is that I wasn’t
allowed to tell you—he was worried about making sure you stayed safe, and so
was I, obviously! If you couldn’t trust me, would I literally work for the
Academy and not tell them what you are? You’re a wizard and a half-blood, you
fool, I’ve been protecting you for years, so calm down and stop being such a
brat!”
Resentfully, Ritsu drags Mao back into the saddle, letting go of his magic,
letting it swirl back into his vortex of power, considerably lower than usual
due to expending it for the first time in years. “Ahh, I’m low on magic now.
This is your fault, for sure. And my stupid brother.” His heart still races at
the idea of his brother, though, and he squeezes his legs around the horse,
trying to subtly urge it faster, towards his friends.
“Stop it, we can’t draw too much attention to ourselves than we already have!”
Mao jerks the reins out of Ritsu’s hold, yanking his horse to an abrupt stop,
ignoring the annoyed toss of its head. “You’re just lucky I can silence magic
even on your level! You’re so…ugh. I need you to escort the Sena heir and
Makoto to High Harbor. The captain of your brother’s guard, Akehoshi, will be
joining you to help as well. You’ll meet up with your brother there, and I’m
sure he’ll explain everything further—I honestly don’t know what he has
planned, so I can’t tell you anything else.”
Ritsu subsides, sulky and grumpy, feelings still churning uncomfortably in his
belly. “You still should’ve told me. I’m gonna be angry for a while. You get to
make it up to me.” And so does he...for years.
“I wish I could have told you. I mean that.” Mao heaves a sigh, shutting his
eyes briefly before he twists in the saddle, looking back at Ritsu. “Your
safety was my priority. I am sorry.”
Ritsu pouts, but it’s hard to be as angry with Mao as he is with his brother,
who’d forced him to keep silent. He leans forward, rubbing his forehead against
Mao’s shoulder. “I guess it just means you really care about me,” he decides.
“Because you have to keep me safe even if I’m mad at you.”
“Of course I care about you, you brat,” Mao sighs, petting the top of Ritsu’s
head. “That’s not really negotiable. Ahh…the idea of you dealing with all of
this gives me hives, honestly. Makoto is fairly easy to deal with, but the Sena
heir…well, I guess you’re better with him than I am, but he’s…” Mao flutters a
hand. “You’ll see.”
He nudges his horse forward again. “I don’t like that I have to stay behind,
but having eyes within the Academy and the capital—my master needs that more
than anything right now.”
“Izumi is a good kid,” Ritsu says softly. “If he’s being hard to handle, he’s
not acting like himself. How far are we? How far is my...your master?” Because
if Rei is really that much in hiding, Ritsu certainly isn’t going to ruin it
for him with a slip of the tongue.
“They’re on the other side of town. High Harbor is…a few days ride from here?
Akehoshi knows the way exactly. Ah, I’d rather you all be in the North, that’s
safer, much further away, but with the North trying to march on the capital…”
Mao winces. “Needs must. You need to make sure all of you stay properly cloaked
along the way. You’ve got an active duty wizard and a half-blood to deal
with.” 
“I can handle it.” Ritsu brushes the hair back from his face, setting his jaw,
resolute. “I’m more skilled than you know. I survived for a long time without
being taken care of. I’ll cloak all of us...as long as we can just travel at
night.”
Mao’s smile is wry. “I know how skilled you are,” he says, glancing back over
his shoulder at Ritsu. “I’m the most skilled magical investigator the Academy
has. How long do you think I’ve been hiding your little slips, hmm?”
Heading back into the city proper, Mao goes quiet until they come to a stop
around the back of the Academy’s housing units. “I’ve arranged to have horses
brought in an hour, when the sun sets. I expect that’s enough time for you to
speak to Akehoshi, learn the route, and…hopefully settle Sena’s nerves.” He
hesitates. “He’s not exactly…cooperating. He has no interest in going to High
Harbor. I think my master has bound Akehoshi’s tongue when it comes to talking
about the prince—because he does nothing but run his mouth—so it’s up to you if
you want to say something, but…I don’t know. He’s in such a state that it might
be unwise to bring it up, or he might act…too recklessly.”
Ritsu nods slowly. “I’ll use discretion or whatever. Hopefully he’ll be so
happy to see me that none of the rest of it’ll matter. Which room is he in? Ah,
Maao might want to stay back, I’ve got to talk to him and stuff might blow up
when there’s two half-breeds getting feisty.”
“Please don’t let that happen,” Mao groans, wiping a hand down his face as he
slides off of his horse, tethering it and offering Ritsu a hand to help him
down reflexively before his face goes hot. Right. Ritsu is a knight in his own
right, Mao doesn’t have to treat him like a lady or like a wizard that can
barely ride. “I’ll take you there,” he mutters. “And then I’ll leave it to
you.”
Ritsu takes Mao’s hand with a slow smile, as if he can see every bit of Mao’s
thought process, swinging down to the ground and landing lightly on his feet.
Then he leans forward, draping his arms around Mao’s neck with a sigh. “I
should just be your lady, don’t you think? That’s way more fun than all this
running around. Would you be a good husband for me, do you think?”
Mao’s face flushes hotter, but he doesn’t pull away, no matter how his body
reflexively wants to. What a combination—the brother of his master, a wizard, a
half-blood…all of the kinds he’s always been trained to avoid getting close to,
but…
“You deserve a high-born wife, I think,” he softly says, giving Ritsu’s back a
gentle rub. “You don’t fit into the role of a lady.”
That’s not pushing me away, Ritsu thinks smugly, and leans up, pressing a
lingering kiss to Mao’s cheek. “When you get bored of waiting for me to take a
high-born wife, tell me, and I’ll make you my lady,” Ritsu says with a hum,
then turns, walking up the stairs to where he can smell Izumi, knocking on the
door. “Izumiiiiii?”
“I—w-what the hell, Ritsu, I’m not—“ Mao scowls, rubbing at his cheek, and
follows after him, his face still hot. “Here,” he mutters, unlocking the door
with a turn of a key. “Makoto,” he calls, “we’re coming in.”
Izumi doesn’t rise from where he remains coiled up in a ball on Makoto’s bed,
head resting in his lap. He does, however, exhale a low, suspicious hiss at the
sound of Mao’s voice—and at the sound of what might be Ritsu’s, maybe, but he
can’t trust it.
Makoto looks up, blinking at the red-eyed apparition, drawing back into himself
with nerves, though his hand doesn’t pause on Izumi’s hair. “Who...”
“Hi,” Ritsu declares, and walks in, sitting down next to Izumi. “You smell
awful. What’d they do to your blood?”
Mao lingers by the door, locking it behind them. “This is Ritsu,” he introduces
Makoto. “A friend of mine. He’s going to be escorting you along with Akehoshi.”
Izumi’s stare is still wary, as if he doesn’t quite believe Ritsu is still
actually here, in the flesh, and not dead. “…How aren’t you dead?” he lowly
asks, slowly sitting up. “They told me—they told me they killed everyone that
worked with Arashi.”
Ritsu rolls his eyes, then pokes at Izumi’s neck, annoyed with his blood
quality even now, ignoring the guy with the thick spectacles. “They didn’t do
anything like that, they didn’t even ask me questions. If they really did
capture Arashi, they obviously didn’t bother torturing him, ha.”
Makoto blanches. “T-torture? The king’s officers wouldn’t do anything like
that.”
There’s a heavy silence that follows that, but Izumi’s attention is too far
elsewhere to even bother explaining to Makoto otherwise. “Ritsu…is…is that what
I keep smelling?” There’s a quiet edge of panic to Izumi’s voice that he can’t
quite stamp down, and he lifts a hand to his own neck, feeling the pulse of his
carotid artery underneath his fingers when his nails dig in. “It doesn’t matter
how much I bathe, I keep—I keep smelling something awful, and it’s driving me
insane—“
“Duh, why do you think you’re not healing right? It’s poison for half-bloods,
obviously,” Ritsu says, annoyed.
“Um, he’s healing very quickly--”
“Put your hands down. Neck to the side.” Ritsu lets his fangs slide out, and he
says, displeased and a little slurred because of them, “I ‘ope ‘ou know ‘ow
muff I ‘ate ‘oing ‘ish.”
Then he strikes, sucking deeper and faster than he ever has, filling his belly
to a disgusting, distended degree, a hand lashing out to knock the blond kid
away, draining fast and deep before Izumi’s body has a chance to replace and
mingle with the tainted blood. He sucks so hard it makes him dizzy, draining
every last drop before turning, retching violently all over the floor, again
and again as he convulses, poison starting to infiltrate his own bloodstream.
“Ritsu—damn it, at least warn me first!” Mao dives to right him before he can
collapse and choke on his own vomit, hauling Ritsu back against himself to
steady him. “Why are you like this?” he hisses, though his voice is deeply
worried, and he warily spares a glance over to Izumi, who is now more or less
unconscious, white as a sheet and draped over Makoto’s bed. “That couldn’t have
waited? Ugh, Makoto, go fetch some water and rags,” he orders, gingerly letting
Ritsu’s head loll back against his shoulder. “You’re not immortal, idiot, stop
acting like you are.”
“I, I can’t leave him,” Makoto says, panicking as he tries to shake Izumi back
to consciousness, then suddenly remembers that he’d been dead before--stabbed
and beaten and crushed, and he’d still healed. Even as he watches, Izumi’s body
starts to expand, color slowly rushing back to his skin. “Oh! Then--” He dashes
to the washroom quickly, fetching a bucket of water and several rags, wondering
when his life had gone so insane. Ritsu is still slumped over, shuddering and
trembling, until Makoto realizes that he’s biting his own lips, sucking the
blood in, then vomiting it out in a strange cycle.
“Gods, you idiot, here.”
Mao shoves his own wrist between Ritsu’s teeth. It’s a stupid decision, but he
doesn’t have much of a choice, not when Ritsu’s going to kill himself at this
rate. “If you hurt yourself because of something this stupid, I’ll be furious.
Drink and properly flush all of that mess out of yourself.”
Ritsu turns his head, striking deep, and sucks down no more than a mouthful
before his instincts kick in--This is MAO.
With anyone else, as wrung out as he is, as wrecked as he is, he would have to
drink deeply. With Mao, he turns his head, taking just enough to survive,
metabolizing it quickly, his body kicking into overdrive, burning through
what’s left of the thready magic poison. “That,” he pants, eyes squeezed shut,
tears falling even so, head resting on Mao’s lap, “was so much worse than I
thought it would be. You’re fucking lucky I’m a bloodbred.”
“No, you’re lucky I’m not tossing you out the window,” Mao scolds, worrying at
his own lower lip as he slowly strokes Ritsu’s hair, pushing it out of his face
in an attempt to soothe him. “You can’t just do things like that.”
His wrist aches from Ritsu’s too-rough bite, and he shakes out his hand,
breathing out a shaky sigh. “Here.” He offers up the same wrist. “Drink again,
just to make sure. You can’t travel when you’re weakened, and if I can help
like this, then there’s no reason I shouldn’t.”
Ritsu nuzzles at the skin instead, pressing a kiss to it as he looks up. “Just
go find me a criminal or something, let me have a real drink.”
“No. We’re not doing that.” Mao’s eyes narrow. “Ritsu, I’m telling you to
drink.”
“Mm, nope.” Ritsu’s eyes flutter, and he lets them, snuggling into Mao’s lap.
“Not sure I could stop. I’m not gonna do that. Gimme the blond kid, I’ll drink
from him if you want me to.”
“Makoto is off-limits. I’ll make sure you stop, don’t make me invite you
again.”
“Yuukun is off-limits,” Izumi dazedly echoes from the bed, flapping a pale arm
off the side of it. “Nn. Ritsu. You can…you can drink from me, it’ll come
back…test it, tell me if it’s good again, please…”
“That’s weird,” Mao flatly says. “Really weird.”
“No, he gets it,” Ritsu mumbles. He makes to go over, but can’t move yet, the
poison leaving him scraped raw inside, even though he’d managed to purge it
before it could do much damage. In his own body, he can control his blood’s
flow, getting new blood flowing in while he bites and spits out the gross stuff
trying to cripple him, trying to shut down his brain function. “Get over here,
Izumi. I can’t move yet.”
“Y-you’ve taken enough from him,” Makoto says, as firmly as he can, clinging to
Izumi’s hand.
Mao heaves a sigh and slowly, carefully draws Ritsu up to his feet, leaning his
weight entirely against his own body. “Up we go. Ahh, I don’t like this either,
but these two obviously know what they’re doing,” he frets, gently depositing
Ritsu onto the bed.
“Mm, mm, it’s fine,” Izumi mumbles, weakly shaking off Makoto’s hand to slither
up to Ritsu, flopping against him. “Do it, I feel so groooss.”
Ritsu’s eyes flash with something dark, hungry, and inhuman, but his teeth are
gentle when he sets them to Izumi’s neck, taking a long drink that would put
anyone else in a coma, then sitting back with a satisfied sigh. “Ahhh...that’s
better. Classic Izumi flavor. Don’t go messing it up again.”
Izumi lets out a tired, whimpering noise, slumping against Ritsu. The rush of
regenerating blood makes him lightheaded, almost like he’s drunk, and he nearly
tips off the bed, only to grab onto Ritsu with trembling fingers to keep
himself on it. “Sorry,” he whispers. “Sorry, I’m sorry.”
Mao shuts his eyes briefly, then shakes his head, turning away to get to the
task of cleaning up the room. He’ll never claim to fully understand anything
about half-bloods and how they function—that would be why the Academy is so
desperate to study them, after all—but this is just a little too weird.
Ritsu turns his head to watch Mao, even as his blood thuds in his own ears,
finally churning properly in his veins. A younger bloodbred wouldn’t have
survived that, he knows, chilled down to his bones, but he doesn’t say it.
Instead, he threads his hands through Izumi’s hair, petting gently. “You feel
better? You must’ve felt really fuzzy since you woke up, right? It was a poison
that stays in and infects your brain. You’ve been trying to heal it, I bet, but
that makes your body reeeeally tired, even if you’re an icebred.”
Izumi slowly shakes his head back and forth, more to butt against the touch to
his hair than to give any kind of a response. “’s the worst,” he murmurs. “I
knew…I knew they had drugged me, but I didn’t know with what. No matter how
much I tried, I couldn’t keep up with healing everything, a-and it just got
worse and worse…” He shivers hard, shutting his eyes. “Ahh…I can’t smell it
anymore, that’s good, I really wanted to rip off my own skin…”
“That wouldn’t have helped,” Ritsu says with a sigh. “You’re strong, so you
were keeping it in your blood and out of your skin. Nice. Otherwise it’d be
gross and in your hair, ew. Now you can grow your hair out instead of shaving
it. Nnh, get better soon, your stressed face isn’t good.”
Izumi cringes at the idea of shaving his hair, and gingerly lifts a hand to
touch it, just to make sure it’s not suddenly super gross for one reason or
another. “Sorry,” he mutters, rubbing a hand across the back of his eyes. “That
was just…the worst. Thank you, for doing that.” He rocks back, opening his eyes
again, staring down at his hands as he sucks in a slow breath. The world is so
much easier to focus on, and he hadn’t even realized it. He had just assumed
that was what living felt like now. In a way, he longs for that lack of focus
again—it was much easier to lie there and languish and let every terrible thing
rerun over and over and over in his mind—but at the same time… “I know we’re
supposed to be leaving,” he softly says, “but I think everyone I want to kill
is right here in the capital.”
Ritsu frowns, trying to figure out how to get Izumi to High Harbor rather than
letting him languish here. “...no,” he says firmly, darting a glance over at
Mao. “We’ve got to go to High Harbor. Like, now.”
“Why? I’m not interested in running away.” Izumi pushes his bangs out of his
face, scowling. “The crown thinks I’m dead. I don’t have a magical signature
like wizards do. If I can knock off some of these fuckers, all the better for
it.”
“My master requested your presence in High Harbor,” Mao firmly says, tossing
the last rag into the bucket, and wipes his hands as he climbs to his feet.
“You’re going.”
“I don’t care what your master wants from me. My mother is still coming for the
capital, isn’t she?” Izumi’s glance swings to Makoto. “We were just talking
about this.”
“If you’re staying, you’re doing it alone,” Ritsu warns, actively scowling now.
“I want to go to High Harbor, and I can’t cloak you if you’re not with me.”
Izumi’s lips set in a tight line. “Fine, I’ll do it alone.” That’s nothing new,
even though it irks him in this case. “If you’re going, go. I’m not missing out
on an opportunity to kill every piece of shit that I can.”
“You’re being foolish. High Harbor is absolutely the safest place for you right
now—“
“I don’t want to hear that from someone who works for the Academy,” Izumi
interrupts sharply. “I’ll meet my mother when she comes to the city, and I’ll
deal with the spineless king and every piece of shit duke he has to his name
myself.”
Makoto lays a hand on Izumi’s shoulder, eyes bright. “If you think it’s time to
act, I’ll b-be by your side,” he promises, even if his voice shakes.
“This is dumb. Maao, take some of that nasty blood and put it back in him,”
Ritsu complains. “I’m going to High Harbor, I’ve waited long enough.”
“I don’t have time for this,” Mao exasperatedly says, throwing his hands up.
“Makoto—I can’t cloak you the way Ritsu can. If you join him, you’re going to
be directly going against the Academy. The best I can do is silence any
listeners in whatever quarters you keep, but you can’t keep staying here if
this is what you’re going to do.”
“We don’t need to stay here,” Izumi firmly says. “I’ll contact my mother, and
she’ll meet us, and that’ll be the end of it.”
Ritsu stands, grabbing his cloak. “Fine. I’ll go meet the prince myself.”
“Wait—what?” Izumi bolts upright, and his eyes narrow. “Don’t fuck with me just
to make me go,” he lowly warns. “Or I’ll add you to my list.”
“I’ve been added to the list by people a lot scarier than you,” Ritsu says,
annoyed. “Sorry, Maao, I know you didn’t want me to tell him, but I’m going to
see my brother and no one can stop me. Izumi, if you think I’m lying, bye. But
I’m going. And Mao says your prince is with my brother.”
The stare that Izumi fixates upon Mao is enough to send a chill down his spine,
and he barely has a chance to say, “Sena, there’s a reason—“ before Izumi is on
his feet, snatching him up by the front of his shirt and slamming him back into
the wall hard enough to make his teeth rattle in his head.
“You knew the whole fucking time?!” Izumi’s grip on his shirt collar is tight
enough to choke him. “Fuck you, fuck you, I saw him die, I was too late to
fucking save him, how do I know if you’re even telling the truth now?!”
“I’m r-repeating what my master has told me, that’s all—“
“I’ll kill you, you piece of shit Academy rat—“
It’s reflex that makes Mao reach for the knife stashed against his back, but
Izumi is faster, and far more skilled, wrenching it from his grip in a
heartbeat and throwing him to the ground. He follows, a knee slammed into Mao’s
gut, knife at his throat, his own chest heaving. “How the fuck do I know you’re
not fucking with all of us?” he breathes, his eyes far too-bright. “You know
just how to poke at us, huh? Tell Ritsu the Demon King’s back—tell Yuukun he
can be free—let it slip that the prince is alive—once a spy, always a fucking
spy. I’ve been looking for a mole, maybe it’s you.”
 “Leave him alone!” Ritsu snarls, but doesn’t run up, hovering back with his
claws and teeth extended, flashing in the low light. “I didn’t save your
fucking life so you could bully my mate!” Probably not how he should say it the
first time, especially when he hasn’t said anything to Mao yet, but he doesn’t
give a shit right now, not when there’s a knife at Mao’s throat. “I’ll kill you
myself, don’t think I won’t!”
“L-Lord Izumi,” Makoto says, horrified, grabbing at Izumi’s sleeve. “Please, he
saved your life, he’s been hiding us! He’s--he’s my friend!”
“Let me go, Yuukun.” Izumi’s voice is low in warning, and the knife pricks at
Mao’s throat, drawing a single drop of blood. “Him saving my life means nothing
if he’s just trying to lure all of us to a different kind of death.”
Mao swallows hard, his throat bobbing underneath the honed edge of the blade.
“I know there’s little I can say to convince you,” he slowly, carefullysays.
“But I swear to you—I swear to your prince that I’m not any kind of mole that
you’re looking for. My allegiance is not to the Academy or the High Emperor.”
“Talk is cheap. Prove it.”
Izumi’s voice is ice cold, and Mao sucks in a wary breath. “How would you like
me to—“
“Figure it out.”
Mao’s eyes flick away from Izumi, over to Ritsu. A little help, please? The
hell does he want to hear?
 “You don’t get to swear a blood pact with him,” Ritsu growls, eyes dark as a
starless night, pupils slit, fangs retracted just enough to let him speak. “No
one gets to touch him. I’ll swear for him. I’ll--”
Something occurs to him, and his nails retract, eyes becoming human again. “I
know. I’ll do a summoning. If my brother’s alive, if he’s close in High Harbor,
he can hear me. But it’s impossible to hide. If I do this, everyone is going to
know there’s a bloodbred from the Shadowlands throwing magic around. Mao, how
much can you hide me?”
“I can help,” Makoto pipes up. “I can’t hide myself at all, but I’ve learned
the theory of power lending to someone else’s cloaking spells.”
Izumi still looks decidedly skeptical, the knife at Mao’s throat unwavering.
“But I don’t care about your brother,” he softly says. “I’m not going to High
Harbor just because he’s there, or because he asked me to. I don’t know him,
and I don’t fucking trust him, if he’s been jerking you around for so long.”
“Then—“ Mao’s mind quickly grasps for what to say to get that blade off of his
neck. “Ritsu. Can you contact Sir Arashi? He’s…he’s in High Harbor as well. And
he isn’t involved in anything the Demon King has done.”
Ritsu nods. “That’ll be easier anyway, he doesn’t have the practice cloaking
himself that my brother does.” His eyes are still wary on Izumi, but he pulls
back slightly. “Let him go so he can cast his spell. He’s not a fighter. He
needs his hands.”
Izumi remains unmoving for another long moment before he slowly picks himself
up, the knife still firmly in his grasp. “Go on, then. If you try to help him
run, I’ll kill you, too,” he warns Ritsu.
“I’m not running, I’m not,” Mao defensively says as he climbs to his feet,
hands up. “Gods, is everyone in that army like this? First Sir Arashi, now
you…”
He reaches into a leather pouch on his belt, pulling free a shining, solid
black stone. “You have until the dust fades from breaking this,” he warns
Ritsu. “Try to make it quick, okay?”
Ritsu nods, then straightens up his hair, not wanting to look as awful as
possible when he sees Arashi again after months. He slips his index fingers
into his mouth, quickly pricking both of them, rubbing the blood between his
fingers and thumbs, feeling magic start to swell around him. “Do it now.”
Makoto lays a hand on Mao’s shoulder, closing his eyes, letting power flow out
of him and into Mao, bolstering his power.
Mao sucks in a breath, and breaks the stone in the palm of his hand.
The cloak that expands over the room brings almost oppressive silence with it,
creeping the spellwork over the walls, coating the windows, sealing the door.
The little shards of it already start to crumble, and Mao winces, reminded of
why this is a poor decision. For wizard half-bloods like Ritsu, this sort of
cloak gets eaten through very, very quickly. “Quickly,” he quietly reiterates,
eyes lidded as he tries to focus and slow the decomposition down.
Something snaps, and the dust whirls into a tiny dervish in the center of the
room, blending with the air into the shadowy form of Captain Arashi of the
Sharps. He looks different, hair a bit longer, clothing more casual and
flowing, looking startled. “Ritsu?” he asks, eyes struggling to focus, then
looking around. “Who else--”
The wineglass he’s carrying drops out of the frame, and a second later, red
drops splatter over his trousers. “Izumi?” he asks, incredulous, eyes wide.
Then he claps, delighted, eyes flashing. “I knew it, I knew you were alive,
I’ve got to tell His Highness!”
The knife clatters from Izumi’s hold, no matter how he tries to tell himself
this could be a lie, no matter how he tries to convince himself it’s just a
stupid illusion.
But it’s Arashi, and Ritsu—Ritsu has no need to lie to him, no matter his
loyalty to the Academy’s suspicious magical investigator. He has to tell
himself that, that Ritsu wouldn’t go this far.
Tears prick into his eyes unbidden, and Izumi shoves a hand up against them as
he sniffles. “Fuck,” he whispers. “You are alive, I thought…t-they said they
had killed you.”
“Killed me? Oh, darling, they wish. Where are you? Ah, gods, I didn’t know it
would feel so good to see you--seriously, I’ll run there.” Arashi’s voice is
wistful, and he reaches out a hand.
But the dust is settling, and Ritsu warns, “Ten seconds,” looking at Izumi
through gritted teeth.
Izumi’s heart thuds painfully against his ribcage, and he drops the hand from
his face, hesitantly reaching out, as if maybe, maybe their fingers might
touch. “I…I’m heading there, don’t worry about it. You better kiss me when I
get there.” And because he has to say it, he has to—“Tell His Highness I’m
coming as fast as I can, okay?”
Arashi gets in half a nod before the illusion collapses, Ritsu breathing out
hard, shards of ice falling from his lips as he does. “We should move
immediately,” he says, shouldering his cloak. “Hopefully they won’t know what
that was, but they’ll definitely know something happened. Right, Maao?”
Makoto looks around, then yanks his boots on. They’re not the tough boots of a
warrior, but soft-soled, able to be worn in libraries and workrooms as well as
around paved cities, but hopefully they’ll hold up well enough. “You’re not
leaving me,” he warns.
Izumi, still sniffling, just nods, wiping at his eyes. “Of course I’m not,” he
whispers. “Ah…gods. How far is it to High Harbor? Three, two days if we ride
hard?”
Mao subtly puts his foot down over the knife Izumi dropped, and kicks it well
out of his distance. “Far enough that hopefully, no one will be suspecting
you’re headed that way. Go outside. Akehoshi will be here soon with horses,
he’s your guide. And cover your hair, Sena, it’s too recognizable.”
Izumi nods, pulling the hood of his borrowed cloak up and over his head before
he grabs Makoto’s arm, dragging him out the door without another moment’s
hesitation. Mao waits before his gaze swings to Ritsu, weighted and
concerned—but he says nothing, except for a quiet: “Ride safely.”
Ritsu’s slitted eyes hold Mao’s, too intense to be human. “When I come back,
you’ll be mine,” he says, because he’s already said it and there’s no taking it
back now. “Don’t die.”
Then he turns, cloak swirling behind him as he runs down to meet the oddly too-
cheerful soldier, holding the reins to a few horses built for speed, launching
them into the waiting darkness.
***** Chapter 18 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
Town after town scatters the shoreline as they veer towards the capital proper,
and it has only taken three of those towns for Eichi to finally get lost.
It wasn’t deliberate, honestly.One minute, his entire entourage had been
trailing him, intent on keeping him safe and sound and monitored, and the next,
they had gone another way, and he had been distracted by food, as one is apt to
be when quaint little stands all smell delicious, and when Wataru isn’t in his
immediate vicinity to distract him with a swish of his hair, well…
Eichi isn’t worried, not necessarily—not until it starts to rain. The downpour
is one that could only come off of the nearby sea, coming down in long,
exhaustingly cold buckets, and Eichi takes cover under the first awning he can
find, huddled and cold and already feeling himself start to shake down to his
bones. The heavy white cloak he wears isn’t exactly made for this kind of
weather, and it weighs him down, making him feel colder rather than insulated
against any dampness. Sulking, displeased by this turn of events, and more than
a little irritated that his fish on a stick is also damp, counting down the
moments of when he’ll be found again suddenly becomes a chore…especially if
he’s intent on not using magic. It’s better to be safe than sorry in today’s
world, apparently.
At the sudden presence of another person, Leo starts, distracted from the loop
his mind has been running in for the past several hours. His hand creeps
surreptitiously to the hilt of his slender sword under his cloak, but he doubts
he’ll need to use it, not when there’s just one opponent. “Hello, stranger,” he
says quietly, though just loud enough to be heard over the splattering rain.
“Get caught in the storm?”
“Ah!” Eichi starts, blinking wide blue eyes down at the stranger that he
absolutely did not notice. Whoops. “I didn’t even realize you were there,” he
says out loud, huddling back a bit more with a dismissive smile. “My apologies.
Hmm. You’re so little I barely notice you now, how cute.”
“I’m a fully-grown man,” Leo growls, releasing his sword and tugging his hood
further around himself. “You’re just far too tall. And you look too delicate to
be out without an escort.”
“I don’t think I’m too tall, I think I’m about right. You’re too short,
probably.” Eichi’s head tilts. “My escorts seem to have lost me, you’re
correct. The weather isn’t helping. Does it always rain like this out of
nowhere here?”
“Hmm, I haven’t been here long. It doesn’t usually rain like this out of
nowhere in the Capital or the Sandlands, though.” Leo frowns out at the rain.
“You’d think the weather wouldn’t be that different, this close to the capital.
But the ocean changes things.”
His hair, dyed brown for his travels, hangs down around his face, loose from
its tail. More importantly, a red strip of cloth is tied around his wrist, a
symbol that he’s embarked on an honor hunt, and will have neither a restful
meal or a soft bed until it’s completed, and the dishonor avenged. No one at
High Harbor would have let him; he’d snuck out in the middle of the night,
winding the strip around and tying it with his teeth when no one would help
him, determined to find his backstabbing uncle and put an end to him. He
touches the cloth to his lips now, the thought of Izumi keeping him strong.
“Ah, I suppose you aren’t from here, are you? Your accent, it’s from the
capital proper.” Eichi sounds disinterested, even as he watches the stranger
out of the corner of his eye. “Heading home? You seem a bit distracted…I
suppose there has been a bit of unrest about recently. I heard a whoooole bunch
of men died in an explosion in the Sandlands. Scary, right?”
“People are sick of not being listened to,” Leo says softly. “They’re sick of
being pushed around and treated like dirt, don’t you think?”
“Ooh. You’re one of those.” Eichi’s eyes light up, and he huddles firmly
underneath his cloak, peering down at Leo. “Are you a rebel? Are you trying to
go against the crown?”
Leo’s eyes flick over at the stranger, looking him carefully up and down. “I
don’t recognize you from court. But you’re traveling with a retinue? You must
be a very wealthy merchant, or someone from the Academy.”
“Ehh, you’re being so nitpicky.” Eichi’s smile is too-sweet. “I don’t recognize
you, either, but you’ve got a way of talking that says you’re very properly
raised. I can ignore that and keep talking, if you’re willing to ignore a few
things about me, too.”
Leo doesn’t smile back, but adjusts the wrap on his arm instead, shifting to
keep it out of the rain. “If this answers your question, the man I’m off to
kill is of lower status than I am. I’m not out to topple the regime.”
“Mm, more details. I love a good story.” Eichi’s eyes glitter, vaguely
dangerous. “You mentioned the court. So that means you know their faces well,
but you’re so young. I don’t know much of the courts myself, but, well, needs
must. Was it your lover that you’re avenging? Your brother, sister?”
“...Lover,” Leo says softly. He lets his hand curl around his sword’s hilt
again, more for comfort than reassurance this time. Izumi had hated the rain.
He’d flourished in ice and snow over rocks, the color of his hair in the
sunlight.
“Ahh. Sorry to hear that. So someone in the capital did it? A shame. Unless
your lover deserved it, of course, but…” Eichi shrugs a little, trying not to
shiver.
“If that were the case, I wouldn’t have this cloth tied around my wrist.” Leo
lets go of his sword, then stares at the other man, side-eyeing him. “If you
were a frail old man or a maiden, I’d give you my cloak, but you’re taller and
bigger than me.”
“Sounds like maybe you should grow, then,” Eichi cheerfully says. “Thank you,
though. I’ll be fine, I’m sure my attendants will be finding me soon, they
always do. You know, in many cases of vengeance, rarely are all parties free of
blame.”
Leo’s mouth turns up at one corner in a wry smile. “Are you meant to be the
wise man I meet on my journey of death, that convinces me to turn away from the
unrighteous path? You don’t look like a wizened crone. Maybe you’re from the
moon.”
“I’ve been told that before. I’m definitely from somewhere else, and I’m very,
very old, so that’s close enough, I think.” Eichi pauses, then leans in closer,
getting a good look at Leo’s eyes. “Hmm. Those are very green. That’s unusual,
even in the capital.”
“Excellency! Ahh, Slave, I’ve found him, praise me!”
The high, sweet voice of previously high-born Tori of the Himemiya line makes
Eichi straighten, catching sight of a nearly mirror image of the same large,
sparkly green eyes heading his way that he had just been looking into.
How…interesting. His lips slowly curve, and he glances back to his peculiar
company. “Do you have a name, stranger?”
Leo tugs his hood farther over his head, heart thundering at the appearance of
someone he knows all too well. “I’m the High Orbital Chancellor of the Moon,”
he deadpans, and leaves the little makeshift shelter behind, braving the last
of the storm rather than be caught by one Tori Himemiya.
“Ehh? No, wait, come back!” Eichi protests, leaning out nearly into the rain
again. “We can both be from the moon, that sounds fun.”
The storm is violent enough that a particularly sharp wind is enough to topple
unsuspecting travelers into one another, and now is no exception. One such
traveler happens to be coming from the opposite direction, just as Leo steps
onto the main road again, and a particularly strong gust of wind wrenches him
sideways. “Ah—my apologies, sir,” he hurriedly apologizes as his shoulder bumps
into Leo’s, the brilliant shock of his red hair exposed the second the wind
keeps blowing, ripping his heavy, expensive cloak hood from his head.
“S…Suou?”
The traveler freezes, violet eyes gone wide. “H…Himemiya?”
“You!” Tori shrieks, jabbing a finger in Tsukasa’s direction. “It’s you! How
dare you be here when I’m coming to the capital for your benefit! You lazy, fat
slob, I’ll—“
“Oh, you’ve made a friend,” Eichi hums, not yet daring to venture out into the
rain and get colder. That’s not necessary. “How delightful.”
Leo draws back into the shadows, his heart racing. Suou--he knows that name,
knows it well. He’s had long talks with this boy in the Capital, talks that had
left him amused, the other boy frustrated, both of them stimulated and
interested in politics and the future. But what would that young man be doing
here, on the road, and looking--he takes a closer look--quite a bit pudgier
than he had last time?
“Young master,” a smooth voice says from behind Tori, “perhaps we should be
courteous to the others of your station, and mind your tongue in front of the
Emperor.”
The Emperor.
 That gentle little smile feels cold now, and Leo draws back further, making
certain that even his dyed hair is hidden under his cloak.
“I think it’s funny,” Eichi cheerfully says, though he shivers pointedly, the
cold starting to soak through his cloak even more. “Ah, but Tori—is this really
the boy we’re going to confirm in the capital? He seems a little—“
“If you’re going to see me in the capital, my apologies.” Tsukasa’s voice is
stiff, refusing to let his nerves come out and into it, but his hand drifts to
the sword at his hip all the same. “You won’t find me there.”
“Worthless pig,” Tori sneers, eyes gleaming. “Did you run away? I bet you did!”
Tsukasa’s lips purse. “I—“
“Ahh, Tori, be sweet, be sweet—we’ll just take him back with us, if that’s the
case.” Eichi finally pulls his hood back over his head to step back into the
rain. It’s little more than a drizzle now, and he’s already wet, so it’s fine.
“I think it would also be good to bring my new friend with us.” A slow, but
deliberate wind sweeps down the road, as if it’s someone fluttering their hand,
and Leo’s cloak is pulled down off of his head. The brown dye in his hair
starts to drip from it, rapidly revealing the brilliant, fiery orange of the
royal line. “He seems…fun.”
Leo’s hand darts to the hilt of his sword. He’s not stupid enough to think that
this is an accident, nor that someone who is apparently the Emperor of the
Academy, the one it’s rumored pulls the strings even of his father, the
immortal ruler of the most powerful body in the realm, doesn’t know who he is.
He draws his sword slowly, deliberately, eyes darting between two faces he
knows, and two faces he doesn’t. “I’ll be keeping my own company,” he says,
guarded and firm. “Tsukasa. If you want to keep mine, you’re invited.”
“Yuzuru,” Eichi calls, sounding disappointed. “I want him to come with us.”
“Yes, sir, by all means. Now run,” Tsukasa quietly says, taking one step
backwards, eyes on Eichi and his entourage for a second longer before he takes
his own advice, turning on his heel.
The tall man behind Tori moves like a shadow when the light is flicked to the
side, leaping across space as if it poses no barrier, knives glinting between
his fingers. He lands in front of Tsukasa and Leo on the road, a polite
expression on his face. “Apologies, my lords. Please join us for the remainder
of the journey.”
Leo takes a deep breath, then darts forward, as quickly as he can, relying on
his own natural speed. He feels the sudden icy score of a knife as one lashes
out, grazing his upper arm and shoulder as he runs past. Another flicks out to
land at his feet, and he twists, dodging just in time, his cloak billowing
behind him. Two more knives lash out, and Leo ducks, sheathing his sword only
to draw a small crossbow, firing over his shoulder at Tori and the Emperor in a
wild gambit.
Startlingly, it works, the shadow breaking off and flitting back to his
master’s side, checking Tori all over for wounds. “My lord, are you all right?
Are you well? Did the bolt graze you? Show me, lift your arms, turn around for
me--”
“Run, Tsukasa,” Leo hisses, grabbing Tsukasa’s arm and yanking him down the
road.
Tsukasa spares a wild glance over his shoulder—not only is Yuzuru distracted by
the possibility of Tori’s injuries, but so is Eichi, fretting and petting him
over thoroughly. “I never thought that would work so effectively,” he breathes,
hand still on his sword as they run, quickly leaving the Emperor and his
entourage behind. “Rest in pieces, Himemiya.”
Leo snorts under his breath. “Where’s your horse? We can both fit on one, and
you’re not a fast runner.”
“That’s…that’s not true! I’ve been having a bad week.” Tsukasa hesitates,
checking their surroundings as he catches his breath. “Here,” he says,
distracted enough to actually grab Leo’s arm and steer him down a side street,
then up another, where a number of travelers have clearly tethered their horses
outside of an upscale brothel.
“Ah, Milord, you’ve returned,” a young attendant says. “Are you and your friend
going inside, or—“
Tsukasa flips a coin at him to shut him up, unties his horse himself—a tall,
athletic beast that clearly looks like it’s made for the hunt—and swings up
into the saddle, offering Leo his hand. “Behind me. Where are you headed?”
“The Capital,” Leo says shortly, swinging up behind Tsukasa and gripping him
from behind, the motion so familiar after years of riding with Izumi. “You’re a
good kid, Tsukasa. What are you doing in a place like this?”
“Riding away from the capital.” Tsukasa spurs his horse, and it springs
immediately forward, cutting down the cobbled streets and to the main road in
no time. He finally allows himself to breathe at that point, and take stock of
who, exactly, is clinging to him from behind. “Your Highness—we can’t go back
to the capital right now.”
Leo holds up his hand, showing off the strip of cloth tied around his wrist. “I
don’t have a choice. I’ve sworn blood vengeance.”
“For…for who?” Tsukasa doesn’t slow his horse even once they’re on the main
road, wanting to put as much distance as possible between the town and the
possibility of the Emperor chasing them.
“For a bastard page that no one else is going to avenge.”
Tsukasa’s mouth opens, then shuts, and he heaves a sigh, hanging his head.
Finally, he does slow his horse, and she tosses her head, snorting loudly in
frustration at not being allowed to run. “Your Highness…ah…I hate to be the one
to correct you, but I must. Lord Izumi isn’t dead.”
Blood pounds in Leo’s ears. He blinks, unseeing the area around him, as music
starts to play in his mind. “Explain,” he manages, voice tight and not a little
threatening. “Now.”
“He isn’t dead.” Tsukasa hesitates, and he glances around, anxiety making him
that much more paranoid. “In fact, the last I was informed, he was en route to
High Harbor. He was brought to the research facility within the capital and
smuggled out, apparently. I’m afraid I don’t know all of the details, but I do
know that he’s alive.”
“Your sources? I know a prince should take a noble’s word, but forgive me if my
trust is in short supply these days.” Leo hesitates, then adds, “I’ve always
liked you, even loved you, for being a good person and a righteous knight. I
want to know I was right.”
“L…l…oved me?” Tsukasa’s heart thumps too-hard in his chest, and he swallows,
grateful that Leo can’t see how hot his face suddenly is. Oh, this is no good.
“Y…your Highness, I—ah—Himemiya was right!” He has no choice but to blurt that
out, his face burning. “I was running away—a-after the king announced your
death, they were frantic to find heirs, and I…your father…he insisted that I
marry your sister! Of course I wanted to refuse, but I couldn’t, my entire
family would be dishonored, but I can’t block your path to the throne, I can’t,
so I ran—I was on my way to High Harbor to meet you, and Sir Arashi, and
subsequently Sir Ritsu as well—we’re in a blood pact, you see, along with Lord
Izumi, so I’m truly bound to your name!”
A blood pact.
 If the pact hasn’t been broken, Izumi can’t be dead.
But more importantly--
“They were going to have you marry my sister? My little sister? My precious
Ruka? Ahh, I was going to take my ribbon off, but now I’m going to have to kill
my father, wahahaha!”
Delight suffuses him, and he hugs Tsukasa hard around the middle, burying his
face in his shoulder. “Then let’s go to High Harbor. And you can tell me why
you were in that particular brothel. And if I’m satisfied, I might let you
marry my precious Ruka--in a decade or so.”
“N…not to be rude, Your Highness, but I think that’s rather private
information,” Tsukasa insists, his face still flaming. It’s unfortunate that
Ruka—small, quiet, shy Ruka—is far from the type of woman that he likes, but
Leo is very much the kind of man that appeals to his senses. It’s very
unfortunate, and that’s going to make this a difficult ride.
“Private? When I’m cuddled up to your arse and you’re trying to become my baby
brother?” Leo laughs, tightening his arms around Tsukasa. “High Harbor is a
day’s ride away, sure you don’t want to talk about something to warm up in the
cold?”
“I’m not trying to become your baby brother! I ran away so I wouldn’t!” That
sounds bad, actually. Tsukasa winces. “I mean—it’s not that I don’t think your
sister is adorable, she is, truly, and it’s not like I wouldn’t be honored—“
“There’s no one cuter in the whole realm,” Leo says firmly. “I still haven’t
decided if anyone is allowed to marry her.”
“I don’t want to marry your little sister. I mean. I would be honored.” Tsukasa
exhales a strangled sound.
“You know,” Leo says cheerfully, tightening his arms, leaning forward a little,
“for a while, I thought it was me you wanted to cozy up to. You shoot me a lot
of cute little looks.”
Tsukasa’s horse bolts underneath them, courtesy of Tsukasa’s legs tightening
firmly against her sides. Reflex, that’s reflex, when there’s someone so pretty
against his back, breathing against his neck, and it’s the prince, which is a
dozen times worse. Horrified at his own reaction, Tsukasa reins his horse in,
staring straight ahead. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he lies.
“Your Highness, you’re being highly inappropriate.”
“When I’m king,” Leo says grumpily, releasing Tsukasa’s waist, “it’ll be
illegal to lie so much. Be honest about yourself, be honest about your
feelings, that’s the part of you I like! This stuffiness is booooooring.”
Nooo, go back to hugging me, damn it.“Your Highness, with all due respect,” his
traitorous mouth says anyway, “being honest about that sort of thing in the
capital is a good way to destroy one’s standing in one fell swoop.”
“Oh, shit, did we get to the capital already?” Leo asks incredulously, looking
around at the deserted forest. “Why didn’t you tell me, I’d have gotten off
this horse!”
“You know, being so fucking sarcastic isn’t charming,” Tsukasa snaps, already
at the end of his rope. Leo always does a good job of pushing his buttons in
one way or another. “I’m attempting to be polite, Your Highness, and not allow
my own affection come in the way of a professional relationship!”
“Ooh, do we have a professional relationship?” Leo teases. “And here I thought
you were just planning a coup by using my name, without asking my permission.
Ah, what a shame, I thought you were actually loyal to me without asking for
anything in return...”
“I…I’m not asking for anything, you’re misunderstanding again! Please don’t
phrase it as if I am the one planning the coup—while I support the mentality in
this particular situation, I can’t take credit. That would be Lord Izumi.”
“Of course it would,” Leo mutters under his breath. He sits back, squirming
back on the horse to put more room between the two of them. “If you’re not
going to have fun conversation, sing to entertain me or something. You’re bad
companionship.”
“I’m perfectly fine companionship, you’re the one that’s difficult,” Tsukasa
exasperatedly shoots back. His lips purse, frustrated as per usual when he’s
around Leo, but he finally, nervously volunteers, “We met properly in the
North, months ago. I rode at Sir Arashi’s request, actually, to meet him. It’s
not often that Sir Arashi recommends a man so highly.”
Leo’s chest puffs up slightly. “Of course he did. Izumi is a great man. He’s
smart and strong and fast and kind, you know? He’s going to be the captain of
my Kingsguard.” He turns, yanking the blood vengeance ribbon off his wrist. If
Izumi is actually dead, he’ll have to tie two of them, one for his uncle and
one for Tsukasa. “Blood pact, huh? So you must know him very intimately.”
“No,” Tsukasa blurts out, panicked in an instant. “Absolutely not, we, ah, we
did the other option.”
Leo rides in silence for a long moment. Then, trying to keep a straight face,
he says, “Oh. You’re very frightening and powerful, then. I should have been
more wary, you’re obviously quite, ah, ruthless. To kill a child rather than
have sex with a few attractive men...yes, clearly you’re a force to be reckoned
with, I’m very impressed, that definitely sounds like Izumi.”
“I really wish you wouldn’t mock me, Your Highness. It’s very troubling to
realize that I can’t win no matter what answer I give you.”
“Hmm, that sounds like the kind of thing you should have thought of before you
did something you were ashamed of.”
“I—“ Tsukasa fumbles, then frowns. “At the time,” he carefully says, “I was not
ashamed of it. I was unaware that you and Lord Izumi were…” He flutters a hand,
unsure if he should say it out loud, even if no one is around to witness it.
“I’m uninterested in offending you, Your Highness. Having those kinds of
relations with your, ah, lover apparent, that sort of thing…”
“Ehh, is that what you think of me?” Pretending to be offended by Tsukasa is
fun, and always has been. “Ahh, I didn’t think I said anything like that, did
he say we were like that?”
“He, ah—“ It’s hard not to panic and think that he has absolutely gotten the
wrong impression, when Leo teases him like this—but he’s sure about this, he
is! “He said your name, Your Highness. On multiple occasions.”
Leo, startled when he’s been the one teasing, feels his face flushing. “He...he
did? Ah...”
He thunks his forehead against Tsukasa’s back. “Now I’m embarrassed.”
Yes, success! Please to finally have some of his own back, Tsukasa sits a bit
straighter. “Yes, Your Highness. He did. Thank you for confirming that it
wasn’t just a  fantasy of his, and that you two truly are involved. I’ll admit,
I was curious.”
“He’s wonderful,” Leo mumbles against Tsukasa’s shoulder, feeling flustered.
“I’ve loved him since I was a page. How silly is your prince, you think?”
Oh, no, he’s very cute. This is unfortunate—Tsukasa always thought Leo was
cute, but this is another side of him that’s troubling. “Fairly silly,” he
murmurs, heaving a light sigh. “But I don’t mind. From the time I spent with
Lord Izumi, he seemed…ah…well, he was a bit drunk, but he still was enjoyable
to be around.”
“He’s good, isn’t he? He’s a funny drunk.” Leo’s tone is wistful, and he wraps
his arms back around Tsukasa, because it’s easier than remembering that they’re
empty. “I thought he was dead. I was going to kill my own uncle for him--my
father, if I had to. That’s bad for a king...but I’m not king yet, so maybe I
can still be a man a bit longer.”
“He’s a touchy drunk, that’s what he is,” Tsukasa mutters, his face flushing a
little in memory. Combined with Leo’s arms around him, and he has to shift in
his saddle to get more comfortable. “Dirtying your hands isn’t necessary, Your
Highness. I understand the compulsion, truly, I do—but rest assured, he is
alive…and beyond that, even if he wasn’t, the support behind you will easily
deny your father and uncle the throne in the near future. There’s no shortage
of unrest, and Lord Izumi has made a number of formidable allies.” His lips
purse. “Duke Rodan obviously did not expect that.”
“He’s always better than everyone expects,” Leo says, and sniffs a little,
wiping his nose on Tsukasa’s shirt. “Ahh, isn’t Rodan your great-uncle, too? I
know we’re related somehow, you’ve got hints of the damn hair.”
“Please do not wipe your nose on me,” Tsukasa exasperatedly says, fishing out a
handkerchief and passing it back. “Duke Rodan is my great-uncle, yes,” he
reluctantly says. “We’re related on my father’s side of the family. I…I don’t
approve of his actions, not in any way.”
Leo blows his nose noisily, then stuffs his handkerchief into his pocket.
“Right, right. Don’t worry, I know family doesn’t mean much. Look at me, and
you! We’re related to my father, of all things. Heh...you sure you don’t want
me to stay gone? You’d be king in a decade.”
“I absolutely do not want to be king,” Tsukasa firmly says. “That is why I ran
away.” He hesitates, then quietly adds, “Among other reasons, of course. Duke
Rodan…as you know, his first pick for squire was Lord Izumi. I was his
second—and I already had another offer, so I had to turn him down. I’m not
exactly his favorite nephew, and I’ve been refusing his other requests over the
past few weeks as well, so it’s only going to be more troublesome in the
future, if this isn’t all dealt with.”
“Ahh, so you’ve got all selfish reasons for being part of our little group.
That’s good!” Leo beams, shifting around on the back of the horse. “I’m glad
you have your own reasons for being part of this. Also, hey, introduce me to
your horse.”
“I don’t think it’s selfish to not want to be a puppet for the crown,” Tsukasa
grumpily says. “Please sit still, Your Highness. This is Fianna, do try to
never stand behind her, she kicks. Capital stock is always terribly moody if
they aren’t on a hunt.”
“She reminds me of you, how adorable. Have you ever met Izumi’s horse? He’s a
good boy, not like his master at all.”
“I don’t know what that is supposed to mean, but thank you? Um. I met Lord
Izumi’s horse briefly, he tried to eat my dessert. Why are Northern horses so
large?”
“It’s because of all the fat,” Leo confides. “Up in the North, it gets so cold
that they need to be insulated.” He pokes Tsukasa in the tummy. “What’s your
excuse?”
“I was talking about their height and stockiness, how d-dare you!” Tsukasa
hisses, trying not to shriek. In response, his horse bolts sideways, grumpily
lashing her tail. “I—I’m very stressed at current, I think t-that explains
enough!”
“Be calm, you’ll startle Fianna. Heh, so, is that brothel you were in the kind
where they feed you all day?” Leo asks, intent on getting some of his own back
now that Tsukasa bothered him about Izumi. “It’s a very interesting plaque they
have over the door...do you usually have to go down to the Sandlands for that?”
“Don’t tell me how to ride my own horse! I—how do you even know anything about
that?! What were you doing down in the Sandlands?”
Leo raises his chin. “Obviously, the crown prince has to spend a year in each
Dominance. Look forward to that, if I die and you have to become king. Heh,
you’d burn in the Sandlands--or you’d spend all your time in a brothel.”
“I know why you were in the Sandlands, but the fact that you know that much
about…different brothels…“ Tsukasa’s lips purse. “There’s nothing wrong with
appreciating women, especially in moderation. It isn’t as if I spend my time
stealing wives in the capital.”
“No, you spend your time stuffing your face, with apparently more than muffins
and clams,” Leo says cheerfully. “We’ve all got bad habits, eh?”
“Yours, apparently, is being unnecessarily nosy and sneaking about to have a
scandalous affair with a country page.”
“Among other personal failings,” Leo agrees, nodding.
Tsukasa opens his mouth to say—well, anything else, if he could think of
anything else, but he simply huffs instead, and spurs his horse forward at a
faster pace. “I can’t wait to get to High Harbor,” he mutters. “And leave you
in his care instead.”
“Ahh, you’re sick of me already?” Leo pinches Tsukasa again. “Just wait until
I’m king, then you’ll be really sick of me. Who did you wind up squiring for,
by the way? I don’t remember.”
Tsukasa’s teeth grind together slowly. “…His Excellency Himemiya’s father.”
Leo lets out a low whistle through his teeth. “Right, right. Did that go very
poorly? From the way he talks about you...”
“Oh, no, it went very well. Duke Himemiya is a fine man. It’s his son that I
can’t stand, the wretched imp.”
Leo sighs. “He’s basically the worst. He was engaged to my darling sister
before he bloomed as a wizard, did you know? I thank the gods every day that he
bloomed. You’d be a much better husband for her.”
Tsukasa winces at that. “T…thank you, Your Highness. Your sister is lovely,
but—I do hope she finds a different husband. I’m not sure we’re suited for one
another.”
Leo blinks slowly. “You’re the highest-ranked unmarried man and woman in the
realm,” he points out. “You like women. She’s smart and attractive. Obviously
she’s too young in my mind, but what’s wrong with that match?”
“…shesnottomytaste.”
“Say again?”
“She’s…she’s not to my taste!” It’s time to die, and that’s fair, Tsukasa
wearily thinks. “Most of the royal family aren’t, the women of your line are
all—very slight, and slender, and of course they’re beautiful, b-but when it
comes to women, that’s not…exactly…”
Belatedly, Leo remembers the plaque outside the brothel he’d found Tsukasa in--
the incredibly curvy lady, with bosoms larger than her head. “But...you slept
with Izumi. He’s tiny.”
“…Men are. Ah. The opposite?” It’s getting harder and harder to keep talking,
when he’s blushing this much. “So. Shorter and tiny and slender and…and with
long hair, preferably.”
“Oh? Haha! I’m surprised you can keep it in your breeches around me, then!”
Tsukasa clears his throat. “I am a gentleman, thank you very much.”
Leo grins, and shifts forward again, hooking his chin over Tsukasa’s shoulder.
“So, tell me about your women. That’s a more neutral topic, right? Do you have
a sweetheart on retainer that you go visit every so often?”
“Is it really so neutral when I’m betrothed to your sister?” Tsukasa wryly
asks, but he glances down, relenting. “I…mm. In High Harbor, actually. There’s
a woman I’ve pursued since I was a page. She’s, ah, much older than me, I’m
afraid. I’m certain it’ll never work out, but that doesn’t mean we don’t see
one another when we can.”
Leo pokes his waist again, more gently this time. “I always like hearing about
love,” he says softly. “It’s not the same as betrothal, I know that. I’m no
wilting maiden. So tell me about this lady, since you already know all about
the one who has my heart.”
“A man never shares his lady’s secrets,” Tsukasa huffs, but the urge to talk
about it overwhelms him, and he can’t help but say, “She has the largest tits
I’ve ever seen. Do you—I have to ask, do you favor women at all, Your
Highness?”
Leo grins, hearing the stuffiness drop, and the real person actually come out
of Tsukasa of the Suou house. “I like tits as much as anyone,” he admits. “It’s
only that I’ve always felt that as the prince, I should be, mm, more
circumspect, since any bastard might put the whole country’s future in trouble.
I love hearing stories about them, though. How big, a handful? Or more like the
lady on that place’s plaque?”
“Gods, that must be difficult.” Tsukasa, admittedly, understands—he has to be
very careful with who he does deign to touch. “Even in brothels, I’m conscious
of the same thing, though…looking is usually enough, you know? But with this
woman…” His eyes glaze. “More than that plaque. She puts all of them to shame,
and the corsets she wears make it all the more apparent. Ahh, I feel terrible,
running from the capital to see her, but…at the same time, it lined up with all
of this other mess,” he admits. “So here I am.”
“She sounds enchanting,” Leo says frankly. “Is she your mistress, or another
man’s wife, or a working lady? Tsukasaa, tell me about her, I’ve got to believe
in love again.”
“I would never sleep with another man’s wife,” Tsukasa says, offended.
“She’s…she’s from a well-to-do merchant family. But not so well-to-do that
she’s pressured to marry, you know? It’s convenient for both of us. Her family
put her aside when she had a child out of wedlock, and she’s climbed the rungs
of High Harbor society with her own expertise.” He hesitates, then says,
embarrassed, “This coat that you wiped your nose on, that’s some of her
handiwork.”
“Oh, it’s very nice,” Leo says, as if he can tell the difference between one
coat and another. “She sounds like a firecracker of a woman--I hope she keeps
you in line as much as you keep her in your heart!” He tightens his arms,
giving Tsukasa a firm hug as if they’re close friends rather than near-
strangers sharing a horse.
“She…she does.” Tsukasa says nothing for a moment, then quietly adds, “It pains
me that you need a reason to believe in love again, Your Highness. If you wish
it, we can ride through the night to High Harbor, and you can be there the
moment he arrives.”
“I shouldn’t do that to you...but I’ve already considered leaving you when you
stop for the night and running the rest of the way myself,” Leo admits. “I
don’t doubt that he loves me, but...in his own way, you know? I know he’s eager
to have a hundred others between his legs. News of such things starts to wear
on a person, after a while. I’ve only...I haven’t even kissed anyone else.”
“Ah. I see. Please do not run the rest of the way yourself. We can ride through
the night.” Tsukasa heaves a sigh, and nudges his horse forward, which she
immediately leaps to, picking herself up to a brisk, but smooth canter. “If it
makes you feel better at all, he won’t shut up about you, and I’ve never heard
him utter a single other word about any other lover.”
Leo tucks his cheek against Tsukasa’s shoulder, pulling himself close. “It
does,” he says softly. “He’s...not a normal person. He’s more. You’ve met him.
You understand, don’t you? I’ve never met someone that burns so bright inside.”
“I have.” Tsukasa feels his face flush again, and it has nothing to do with the
cold whipping against it. “You, Your Highness. You’re more than a match for
him, I’m afraid. I…I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
Leo lights up, and he gives Tsukasa’s shoulder a bite through his riding
leathers, as he’d do if it were Izumi behind him. “Hmm, well! You’re very cute,
aren’t you? I’m going to keep you close when I’m king, you’re good to have
around. That is, if I don’t assign you to High Harbor.”
“Did…did you just bite me?” Tsukasa manages, aghast and, unfortunately, sort of
finding it pleasant. “I…would be honored, of course, Your Highness. You might
want to have a conversation with Lord Izumi, however, as he already promised me
a place on his Kingsguard, and this sounds like some conflict of interest.”
“Did he? How rude of him. Then you’ll just have to move your lady to the
Capital. And yes, I’ll bite you whenever I like, you’re good to hold on to with
the mouth.”
Tsukasa, not knowing what to say to that at all, simply urges his horse to go
faster. With the prince, going faster seems to be the right choice, more often
than not.
“Are you scared of me, Tsukasa?” Leo asks, drawing back slightly. “You don’t
need to worry, your honor is safe with me.”
“I’m far more concerned about your honor, thank you!”
“Oh? You’ve got designs on your prince’s arse?”
“I already told you, I’m a gentleman.” And I am absolutely not going there
after seeing the look in Lord Izumi’s eyes when I mentioned how beautiful you
were, thank you very much!
 “Ah, excellent. Then you don’t need to worry about my honor.”
“Of course not,” Tsukasa grinds out, hunching forward over his horse’s neck.
“Please hold tightly to me, Your Highness. Fianna’s sire was the winner of the
king’s races two years back. I’ll have us to High Harbor in no time.”
“Ooh, excellent.” Leo hunkers down, and holds as tightly as is possible without
causing Tsukasa pain, laying over his back. “Lucky I’m light. Be swift, noble
Fianna!” He whickers gently in Horse.
***** Chapter 19 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
Subaru, the captain of the personal guard to High Harbor’s ruling house,
refuses the idea of taverns and towns, and keeps to the most deserted backroads
that Izumi has seen in quite some time.
It’s not a poor decision, but that doesn’t mean Izumi has to like it. The
weather is cold, but not inhospitable—but that isn’t the issue. The issue is
his deep desire for a comfortable bed for the first time in god’s know how
long, and it seems he’ll be waiting yet to have one once again.
They’re barely another twelve hours from High Harbor, but the sun starts to
peek up through the trees. Traveling at night has taken a toll on all of them
except for Ritsu, who is unnaturally skilled at navigating it, and unnaturally
energetic during those hours. Another unnatural feature of his—falling asleep
when the sun rises, sometimes clear off of his horse, and Izumi, no matter his
restlessness, no matter his desire to keep going those last twelve hours and
finally reach his lover and friends again, has no choice but to relent to the
idea of stopping again.
They stop far from the road, deep within the woods, with a last cloak of
shelter and darkness cast over them for a proper sleep. Ritsu is already
snoring, Subaru is already dozing, and Makoto is already rolled into a heap of
blankets. Izumi takes it upon himself to sneak away, the sound of moving water
so close that he can’t resist the chance to bathe.
The stream is freezing cold, but that’s a relief. He pulls himself out only
once he feels his toes start to go numb, and towels himself dry with his own
blanket before quietly making his way back to their little camp. Thoughtlessly,
he collapses down next to Makoto, burying himself into his chest. It’s safer
this way, of course. His new sword—a decent enough blade, tossed to him by
Subaru when they left—is within arm’s reach.
“You smell good.”
Makoto’s voice is drowsy, but more content than usual, snuggled up to Izumi in
the early morning light. Izumi usually smells good, but that’s probably because
he bathes more than anyone Makoto has ever met, more than most people he knows
put together. Subaru turns over, snorting in his sleep, completely naked under
a horse blanket with one leg thrown out. Makoto buries his face in Izumi’s
hair, blinking slowly. “Get warm with me.”
Makoto is warm, but not overly so, and it’s a welcome reprieve from the chill
that wants to permeate his bones. He’d rather be cold than hot any day, but
another person’s body heat is different and appealing, especially when it
belongs to someone with a careful, gentle touch that he’s relied upon…perhaps
too much, as of late.
Izumi crawls his way underneath the blanket, turning so that his back is to
Makoto’s chest, their legs tangling as he nestles back. “My feet are cold,
sorry,” he murmurs. All of him is, but no one likes a cold hand or foot shoved
against them, honestly.
“S’allright.” Makoto spoons up behind Izumi, arms around his waist, smiling to
himself. “Just don’t move back unless you want to start something.”
It was supposed to be a joke. He hadn’t really counted on how hesitant and
anticipatory it sounds from his mouth.
Izumi pauses.
He’s a wizard, you’re an idiot. There’s a cloak, we’re safe. But still…
 Admittedly, this hasn’t been the first thing on his mind in the past couple of
weeks.
Of course, he had kissed Makoto, but Makoto had kissed him first. Izumi shifts,
contemplative, turning his head back to catch a glimpse of Makoto’s face. “Do
you want me to?” he lowly asks before he can bite his tongue.
“I...”
Makoto isn’t good with words. His hand shifts, splayed out on Izumi’s belly,
and he licks his lips. “You have a lover, don’t you?”
It isn’t a no.
“He knows how I am.” And the second I’m back at his side, he won’t be able to
get rid of me. That’s the truth, and encouraged by that thought, by Makoto’s
fingers splaying against his stomach, Izumi shifts again, languidly arching his
back. He can feel that weird underwear, how obnoxious, and he rolls his eyes.
“You’re free now, you shouldn’t be wearing that nonsense.”
“I don’t know how to take it off,” Makoto admits. “They make it complicated on
purpose, and I’ve always had attendants to help.” Nervous, but hungry, Makoto
shifts forward, brushing a kiss against Izumi’s neck. “I can still make you
feel good, if you want me to.”
“Huh, seriously? No way, it’s coming off, I’ve seen wizards do it before.”
Izumi twists in Makoto’s arms, frowning. “I can totally figure this out,” he
mutters, already working on Makoto’s robes. “I mean, it’s not going back on
after this, just so you know.”
“B-but what if I get hard?” Makoto whispers, horrified, but already feeling his
body respond to Izumi’s hands on him. “Someone could see! I haven’t learned to
control it like other men!”
“Then you get hard,” Izumi drawls, leaning up to suck on the front of Makoto’s
throat as he sticks his hands underneath those robes, and finds the first round
of lacing to start plying apart. “And you either ignore it, take care of it
yourself, or stick it in someone, like any other man.”
Makoto bites his lip, eyes flicking away from Izumi, landing on Subaru’s
exposed leg. No, best not to focus on that, that makes him hard too, and he
gasps in pain as his cock starts firming against the rounded spikes on the
inside of his plate. “I’ve...got the training one,” he grunts, clenching his
teeth. “Please don’t--move it around, the spikes...”
“Gods, that’s fucked up,” Izumi bluntly mutters, yanking at another round of
laces. How many are there is a good question, but he’s going to figure this
out. “I’ll stop chewing on you until it’s off, okay? Then everything will just
feel good.”
His fingers slide lower, seeking out some of the straps and laces that are
lower, around Makoto’s waist and hips, hoping that loosening that mess will at
least give Makoto a bit of breathing room. “There we are…I can’t believe the
shit that they put wizards through, it’s ridiculous.”
Makoto’s smile is strained. “You don’t need to go through all this trouble,” he
mumbles, turning to hide his face. “I’m so sure it won’t be worth it, you’ll
just be disappointed, you’re so lovely...”
Izumi snorts. “You can let me decide that, thanks. Yuukun…” He hesitates, but
his fingers don’t stop, working through every single bit of lacing until the
straps actually start to loosen and fall away from Makoto’s body. “I’m not sure
what you think I expect. I know you’re a wizard, I know you haven’t done this
before. I really don’t care. It’s fine if we just try to feel good, even if
it’s only for a little while.”
Makoto nods shakily, then offers, “I think the next layer is behind me, they
put it where it’s hard to reach. I’m sorry, it’s so much trouble, I just...” He
drags a hand down his face, trying to do as his teachers have always said and
focus on the shame of wanting to get it off. That usually quells his arousal--
but they hadn’t counted on Izumi, looking so determined to get to his prize.
Without thinking about it, he starts whispering the litany to himself. “It’s
not important, I’m not important, I don’t deserve this, I’m disgusting for
wanting this, I’m a brain and not a body, real wizards don’t need this...”
“Shh, shh, Yuukun, it’s fine, I swear, it’s fine…”
He’d promised not to put his mouth back on Makoto until he was finished getting
everything off, but…he hadn’t counted on Makoto sounding like that. Izumi leans
up again, nuzzling into the crook of Makoto’s neck, lightly biting, then
sucking on the first bit of skin he can get his teeth into as he wriggles his
arms around, petting down Makoto’s back until he finds those awkwardly placed
laces and starts untying them, too. “When it’s off, you can do whatever you
want to me, whatever you’ve been thinking of,” he murmurs, eyes lidded. “I know
you’ve been thinking about it.”
Makoto bites his bottom lip until he thinks he’ll bite through it. “There are
other people nearby,” he whispers, feeling his cock start to press against
those spikes again and just deciding to endure it, since there’s no way it’ll
go down when Izumi sounds like that, looks like that, is touching him like
that. “We’ll have to be quiet. I...you’re right, I’ve been thinking about it.”
“Mmhm, we have to be quiet, but that’s okay. You can always gag me,” Izumi
lowly teases, his eyes glittering as he feels another strap loosen. Excellent,
closer, closer. “Or just flip me over and push my face down and let me bury my
face in your cloak while you do me. Ahh, but you’ve thought about it, so you
know what you want to do.”
“Lord Izumi, please, this hurts so much,” Makoto says through gritted teeth. He
wants to reach down and help, but Izumi’s already gotten farther than Makoto
ever has with the laces, so he just brings his fist up, biting into it. “Just--
yes, I’m going to get you on your belly, you’re so round from behind.”
“Sorry, sorry, I’m trying, this shit’s annoying. Yes, I know, I have a woman’s
ass,” Izumi grouses, his eyes flicking sideways to his sword, more and more
tempted by the moment to take his chances and slice through whatever strange
leather this mess is made out of by the minute. Finally, he finds a
particularly tight knot, right in the middle of Makoto’s back, impossible for
any human that isn’t a contortionist to reach by himself. He has to wiggle it
apart with his fingernails, but opening that knot and loosening those laces
suddenly makes the entire system of straps loosen and slump from Makoto’s body.
“I think I broke a nail on that, damn it.”
Makoto grabs the spiked plate and throws it into the woods, surging forward to
knock Izumi down to his back, kissing him hard--sloppy, inaccurate,
unpracticed, but hard and hungry, hands fisted in hair like moonlight, yanking
him close. He kneels above Izumi, knees pressed into the soft fabric of his
cloak, too eager to bother flipping him over just yet, drinking in the
sensation of his cock being free, rubbing it against Izumi’s creamy thigh,
little whimpers dragged from his throat.
It’s not like Izumi could have hoped for a better, more enthusiastic reaction.
Still—it’s so unlike Makoto that for a moment, Izumi’s head reels. A new,
uncomfortable reflex makes him seize up, wary when his hair is grabbed and
pulled, nervous when he’s shoved down—but he forces himself to breathe, slow
and long through his nose, smelling Makoto and nothing bad, feeling the warm,
solid weight of his body and nothing more, and Izumi slinks back down, still-
trembling hands circling around to grab at Makoto’s back, fingers sinking into
his skin. “E…easy, easy,” he finally manages to gasp, turning his head aside to
avoid Makoto’s mouth against his own, just for a moment. His voice is a little
shaky, too, but he swallows, and that goes away. “If you need to come once just
rubbing on me, that’s fine, but you better be able to get it back up again.”
“Sorry, I’m sorry, I’ve never--”
Makoto channels an enormous effort of will, then pulls back, swallowing hard.
He looks down at Izumi--shaken, confused, obviously taken aback--and remembers
how so many of his teachers had told him he’d be a monster as a lover, not good
enough, far behind everyone else. No, Lord Izumi doesn’t think that.
He takes a deep breath, then rolls onto his back, tugging Izumi on top of him.
“Would you...ride me, the first time?” he asks softly. “I don’t want to lose
control. And I do want to watch you.”
Izumi wobbles a little, but huffs out a relieved breath, grabbing the kicked
aside blanket to pull that over himself—and Makoto, by proxy. “Yuukun really
has had some ideas, huh?” he murmurs, his gaze flicking sideways to Ritsu’s
belt, tossed aside and more or less within reach. He stretches forward to snag
it, and specifically, one of the leather pouches hanging off it. “This kinda
thing is always much sexier with long hair,” he grouses, leaning back once he
has his prize, a very helpful bottle of oil. “Sorry, Yuukun.”
“You’re always sexy, though?” Makoto squeaks, hands coming up to brush over
Izumi’s thighs, a shiver rippling through him that seems to redouble when he
realizes how easy it is to feel those feelings, cock standing free in the air.
“Ah...I’m not even sure it works right, I wouldn’t really....know...”
“It’s working juuust fine, trust me.” Izumi grabs one of Makoto’s hands as he
uncorks the bottle of oil, and idly dumps half of it over his fingers. “Here,
you can do something for me.”
He drags Makoto’s hand around, guiding those now-slick fingers to slide down
the cleft of his ass, then a bit lower against his hole. He shivers, tense,
trembling faintly and bracing his other hand against Makoto’s shoulder when his
knees threaten to wobble again. “You should get me ready for you,” Izumi
breathes. “Slide a finger inside, you can feel how hot it is.”
“It won’t fit.” Makoto is sure of that, feeling how tightly Izumi is clenched,
trailing his fingertip over the puckered muscle, wondering at the tight clench
of it. His other hand stabilizes on Izumi’s thigh, squeezing harder than he’d
intended as he looks up, eyes shining. “I never thought I’d be doing something
like this.”
“It’ll fit, it’ll fit—ahh, c’mon, Yuukun, take care of me,” Izumi softly
whines, tipping himself forward. He buries his face into Makoto’s neck,
breathing out a quick, hot breath when pressing down like that traps Makoto’s
cock between them, and makes his own twitch, more than just vaguely, half-
heartedly pleased with all of this, finally. “If you don’t finger me and make
me feel good, I’m gonna be mad,” he breathes, his teeth gently catching against
an earlobe. “Please?”
“Sorry if this hurts,” Makoto whispers, and pushes a finger in. Much to his
surprise, it slides in easily, and everything around his finger is tight and
hot and wet. “Oh...oh, Emperor’s holy books,” he breathes, pupils blown so wide
he can hardly see, sliding another finger in without being told. “I have no
idea if this feels good to you, but it feels great to me.”
Izumi clamps a hand down over his mouth, stifling a rasping groan that escapes
from low in his throat. His back arches automatically, his hips pressing down,
seeking more, seeking another angle that he knows will feel even better—but
even this is good, making him shivery and pleased and warm. “It…it feels good,”
he gasps into his hand, rocking back slowly against Makoto’s hand. “Nnn,
just…just slide them in, nice and deep, just like that, ah, fuck.” Trying to
keep his voice down is easier said than done, and Izumi bites down on a
frustrated growl. “If you…c-curl them a little, I…”
Uncertainly, Makoto curls his fingers as instructed, feeling different textures
slide over his fingertips, feeling his mouth fall open as he shivers, stroking
and thrusting them in. His other hand creeps farther towards the front, thumb
hesitantly brushing against Izumi’s cock as he sucks in a breath. “It’s so
hard,” he murmurs, fingers pushing in farther when his focus shifts. “It’s
so...manly?”
What did you expect? Izumi wants to bite out, but instead, a strangled noise
leaves his throat, and his forehead thunks down against Makoto’s shoulder. His
cock twitches and drips underneath the attention, and it’s even
better—worse?—when Makoto’s fingers curl just right. It’s purely by accident,
but Izumi does not care, not when it feels so good that his eyes roll back, and
his cock throbs, a steady stream dripping from it. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me
come before you even get it in me,” he whispers, his hands trembling as he
searches for where he dropped the bottle of oil. “T…take your fingers out, I
need your cock in me before I die.”
Makoto almost apologizes, but bites his tongue. That’s probably not what Izumi
wants to hear, not now. He draws his hand back, hands fluttering at his sides
as he looks up, helpless but hungry. “Show me how to do it,” he whispers. “I
want to make you feel so good, all right? As long as I can look at you...” I’ll
be satisfied.
“You can look at me all you want,” Izumi says with a breathless little laugh,
tipping over the rest of the oil into his hand before he slides it up the
length of Makoto’s cock. He’s ginger with his touch—Makoto looks and feels hair
trigger, so help them both. His body feels unhappily empty when Makoto’s
fingers are no longer in him, but fortunately, Makoto’s not exactly small. It’s
a pleasant surprise, even if the lingering tension in his body makes him want
to think otherwise. “Yuukun—hold me here to steady me, while I get it in,” he
murmurs, pulling Makoto’s hands to his waist before his fingers curl delicately
around Makoto’s cock, rocking himself up onto his knees. “You don’t have to do
much, just…let me take my time. You’re not small, heh.”
“I’m not?” Makoto looks down, and sees his own cock for the first time in
years. Seeing it makes him groan, as it’s so lewd, so exposed, and Izumi is
looking at it, touching it, and that makes him gulp at the air. “I mean, you’re
so--is it really going to fit? It’s so nice in you, Lord Izumi, I just want...”
He doesn’t know how to articulate it, so he just curls his hands around Izumi’s
hips, trying to hold him up as best as he can, eyes traveling over every part
of him.
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Izumi breathlessly reassures him, even though his
breath hiccups, catching in his throat when he readjusts to pull Makoto’s cock
to his hole. It’s hard and heavy in his hand, and he licks his lips, a shuddery
little exhale making his chest heave when he first rocks down, and feels how
just the head of Makoto’s cock stretches him.
It’s enough that his knees buckle, and he sinks down faster than he
anticipated, but that’s good, too, because it leaves him feeling stretched and
full and overstimulated all at once. It gives him less time to think about it,
and that’s ideal right now, when Makoto’s cock just feels good, and it’s much
easier to fall back into old habits, wriggling down until their skin sticks
together and sweat drips from his hairline. Izumi pants hard, his arms
trembling where he braces himself against Makoto’s chest, his fingers scraping
against bare skin. “Ah…f-fuck, Yuukun…”
If this is what sex is like, Makoto suddenly understands why the Academy is
determined to limit wizards’ exposure to it. Magic is tied to emotion, and with
what’s coursing through his body right now, he doesn’t doubt that he could
level a city, were he so inclined. His hips twitch up helplessly, burying his
cock a little deeper every time, rocking in and stealing his breath. “Izumi,”
he breathes, forgetting his title for once. Izumi’s fingers are cool and
demanding on his chest, and Makoto wants, he wants so badly to give him
everything he wants, even if Makoto doesn’t know what that is. “You’re...so...”
Izumi bites his lip, hard. It shuts him up for a moment, but not permanently,
not when it feels good every single time Makoto’s cock shoves up deeper into
him. There’s nothing practiced about it, nothing deliberate, but that’s
probably what makes it feel so good—Makoto doesn’t fucking know any better, and
he’s still taking care of him. “’s good, isn’t it?” he pants out, lifting a
hand to reflexively pull his hair down when he moves—but there’s no tail there,
and he instead shoves his sweaty bangs out of his face. His thighs tremble when
he grinds down as far as he can, squeezing down around Makoto’s cock when he
can feel it throb inside of him. It takes his breath away, making his eyes
flutter shut. “You…ah…” Words fail him, and instead, Izumi just grabs for one
of Makoto’s hands dragging it up to his mouth, sucking his thumb past his lips
to both cover the fact he can’t think right now, and to shut himself up.
In a world that made sense, Makoto thinks dimly that he’d probably have come by
now, spilled into Izumi’s waiting body the second he got inside--that’s what
all the jokes say, that men who have never done it are easy and don’t take
long. If anything, Makoto is sure he’s too stimulated, between the way Izumi
squeezes down around him and the way he sucks on Makoto’s thumb, between the
way they rock frantically together and the cute little noises Izumi breathes
out, between the slick heat on his cock and the sight of Izumi’s abs flexing
with every rock of his hips. Makoto smothers a groan with his other hand, and
shoves his thumb farther into Izumi’s mouth, too-hard and unable to stop. “So
good,” he agrees, feeling as if his whole body is on fire underneath the skin.
“Want to stay...forever, I’ve got to--”
The noise Izumi makes is low and wet, sloppy around Makoto’s thumb. He clutches
at Makoto’s wrist, not letting him pull it away, needing it at this point to
keep himself at least marginally quieter when he fucks himself on Makoto’s
cock. He doesn’t bother sliding up all that much now—it feels better just to
sink down and stay like that, rocking with eager, urgent rolls of his hips,
savoring the way Makoto is so far in him that he can’t breathe, can’t think,
pressing and rubbing by accident inside of him so perfectly that his mind
starts to blur at the edges—
Izumi chokes on a breath when he spills, whimpering as his body reflexively
clenches down tighter. Now it’s too much, with every pulse of his cock
reminding him of that, with every tense, trembling muscle reminding him of how
big Makoto is inside of him. He sags, panting, barely catching himself with his
nails biting into Makoto’s shoulder to hold himself up, his eyes hooded and
glazed.
“Lord Izumi,” Makoto groans, accidentally grabbing at Izumi’s mouth with the
hand Izumi’s sucking on, hips rolling up in an urgent rhythm, slapping gently
against Izumi’s ass every time. Overwhelmed doesn’t begin to describe the
feeling, not now, not when every muscle he has feels wrung out, not when every
inch of his skin burns, his heart thuds, his mouth is dry, his cock aches. His
eyes are pleading, burning, helpless as he ruts up, clinging to Izumi with
everything he is, hips slapping in a little harder each time. “I’m--hnn, is it,
is it good?”
Izumi swallows hard, dazed, more than a little light-headed, and he helplessly
pushes at Makoto’s hand, getting it away from his mouth for at least a second.
“T…too good,” he pants out, his eyes fluttering shut as he feels his cock keep
dripping, every single thrust of Makoto’s hips wringing out a little bit more
out of him. “Ahh…Yuukun…” He’s not doing a good job of showing off right now,
but thank the gods, it’s to an audience that doesn’t care. “You can…you can do
whatever you w-want to me, you feel so good…”
“I don’t, I don’t know what to do,” Makoto groans, though his body seems to
have an idea, with how his hips keep slamming up, burying himself deep inside
Izumi with every deep thrust. “How do I--finish, please--”
There’s an anxiety grabbing him, keeping him from going over that final
precipice, odd thoughts racing through his mind, questions he’s never had
answered--do men like having it in their arses? Is this the right place? Will
it be too hot? Will he get pregnant? Is it poisonous? Will he swell up like a
balloon? Is there something else I’m supposed to be doing?--and it keeps him
back from coming, even as he groans with the pure overstimulated arousal of it
all.
 “Y-you can come inside me, it’s fine—“ Izumi’s breath escapes hot and fast,
and his hands slide up into Makoto’s hair, petting, stroking, soothing, even
though his fingers shake. “I like it like that, I swear,” he promises,
swallowing down another, overstimulated noise when Makoto sinks into him
harder, deeper. “I—please, Yuukun, it’s t-too much if you don’t…”
It’s less the permission and more the ragged please that does Makoto in; his
hips snap up sharply, and he bites his lip hard when he finally comes, so hard
his head throbs, gasping for air when he empties himself as if he’s emptying
his entire soul. He collapses back onto his cloak, hands wandering and petting,
vague and affectionate over Izumi’s shoulders, his back, his hair. “Ah,” he
says softly.”
“Finally,” Subaru says. “Took you long enough, Ukki. Can I go back to sleep
now?”
Makoto lets out a yelp, tensing up and squeezing his eyes shut in utter
humiliation.
“Sorry,” Izumi mutters half-heartedly in Subaru’s direction, slumping forward
into Makoto’s chest with a long, sated sigh. “Don’t get tense, he’s a soldier,
it’s not the first time someone’s fucked near him,” he lowly says against
Makoto’s ear, hauling the blanket over both of them more firmly now, no matter
how sticky and sweaty he feels. “Relax and pet me.”
Makoto’s hand trembles as it comes up, stroking over Izumi’s hair, trying to
calm his racing heart. “Thank you,” he whispers, trying to be more
conscientious. “That was, um, incredible.”
“Mm, good. Of course it was.” Izumi exhales a slow breath, his eyes lidding
before they slide shut entirely. “Thank you, actually,” he softly says after
another moment, self-conscious enough to bury his face back down into Makoto’s
neck. “You took good care of me.”
“Really?” Makoto sighs out a relieved breath, nuzzling into Izumi’s hair. “I
still feel like they’re going to come swooping down on us at any moment,” he
confesses. “But at least now...I think it would be for something I really would
die for on purpose.”
“Ritsu’s too good to let that happen.” Izumi covers Makoto’s mouth with a shaky
hand. “Don’t talk about dying right now, I’m not in the mood. Pet me until you
fall asleep, or until I fall asleep.”
Makoto’s hands start petting dutifully, eyes already sliding closed.
“That’s...not...gonna...be long...”
“Good.” Izumi shifts, just enough to separate the two of them with a little
wince before stretching out. He can handle being sticky, he can’t handle being
stuck together. He stifles a yawn into Makoto’s shoulder, and burrows close
once more, shutting his eyes. Maybe this time, he’ll actually sleep.
***** Chapter 20 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
Keito knocks on Mao’s door, because Mao has been a good pupil. Otherwise, he’d
simply have the men with him smash the door down, making use of the element of
surprise. But Keito had invested in training Mao--he’d spoken for him at the
Council of Enhancement, attesting that he was smart enough, loyal enough to be
considered for the council itself, that he could be trusted to be part of the
Emperor’s inner circle of attendants.
Finding out how wrong he is had shaken him, and made the bitterness seep
through his veins. Most things just make him cold these days, but this...this
had hurt.
Not that he’ll show it, of course. He’ll show the proud, strict face he always
does, and do his duty, no matter if parts of it are distasteful or
disagreeable. That is the price of order and reason in a world of chaos. “Mao,”
he says, knocking again. “There are archers on the window. Open the door.”
It was only a matter of time. That was something Mao knew day one, when he
signed a pact with the Demon King.
It doesn’t make his heart thump any less hard, however. He knows, intimately,
what the Academy does to traitors. Taking his chances with the archers might be
kinder, because at least they might end up killing him in one shot.
There’s always a chance someone might come for you, though.It’s a vague
thought, a too-optimistic one, but Ritsu’s stare had been so intense the night
he had left that Mao compulsively believes it, even if it doesn’t make any real
sense.
He strips off his belt, dumps every artifact and enchanted stone out of their
pouches in a hurry, and crushes them all underneath his heel—a deliberate,
quickly dissolving distress signal. Losing his eyes on the Council right now
can’t be good for the Demon King, but at least he can have a last warning about
it. 
When finished, Mao opens the door, wrists neatly presented. “Sorry,” he says,
because he is, in a way. “I didn’t intend to have you do this.” That part is
true, at least.
Keito nods to his guard, who binds Mao’s wrists first with leather, then with
magic. “At least you have the decency to know what kind of difficulties you’ve
caused me. Do you wish to confess your crimes now, or must I take you to the
interrogatorium?”
“I’ll confess, but you’ll find it troublesome.” Mao’s eyes lid. “We’ve been
fraternizing with the same undesirables, and I’m not sure if you want to curate
what I say or not before it all comes out.”
Keito’s lips thin, and he nods to his guards. This is better said in privacy.
“Then I’ll see you in the interrogatorium.”
The interrogatorium is cold, stone-lined and designed to be uninviting. It’s
located at the base of the Academy’s highest tower, one day’s ride from the
Capital. It’s designed to break the will of the captives, and Keito spends as
little time here as possible. Now, he shuts the door behind him, the guard
outside equipped to only open the door for Keito’s secret passphrase. He turns
to face Mao, in the cold stone room with no furniture, hands still bound, and
pushes up his spectacles. “All right. Say what you intend. Please try to make
it be sufficient to appease my superiors. I’d vastly prefer not to use any
unsavory methods to obtain the necessary information.”
Mao settles back, his expression unwaveringly set into impassivity. “I’ve been
working for the Demon King since I was five years old.” There’s no point in
lying. The Academy will get the truth, one way or another, and he’d prefer it
to be with his limbs still intact. “I willingly signed into a pact with him.
That pact is still active, so you’ll understand some things can’t leave my
tongue.”
Keito takes in a deep breath, and nods. “I’ll have to make an effort. You know
that. I can’t go back to Eichi and tell him I didn’t try. What happened to
Makoto?”
“Gone. Seduced by the Sena heir.”
“The Sena heir--he lives?” Keito feels a headache starting.
“If you want less of a headache, maybe I should stop listing all of the things
you don’t know, sir.”
Keito glares. “Big talk from a traitor spy. You know the fate that awaits you.
Should I tell you in detail, or do you want to continue to enumerate your
crimes?”
“Your own associations with the Demon King are more than enough to have you sit
in the same spot I am in now, but of course, I can keep going. Where would you
like me to start?”
“My own association,” Keito says warningly, “was a personal matter, and no
official secrets were revealed. I assume you are unable to reveal what the
Demon King’s plans are--list all of his associates that you’re aware of.”
“But you still willingly associated with him. Isn’t that a crime in its own
right?” Mao’s lips purse. “I don’t know what the Demon King’s plans are,” he
says honestly. “So even if I could tell you, I wouldn’t be any use there. The
only other associates I’ve met with aren’t human. Koga, the Wolf Prince. The
Sena heir. The Demon King’s brother.”
“His brother?” Keito’s voice sharpens, and he opens his notebook, taking notes.
“We’ve been tracking him for years, but he slipped his last trackers over a
decade ago.”
“I know. He’s smart. You won’t catch him.”
Keito looks down over the rim of his glasses, heartpangs making him
uncomfortable. “Why did you swear to him, all those years ago? What can a dark
force of nature have to offer a child?”
Mao’s expression doesn’t change. “Have you missed how skilled I am, sir?” he
quietly says. “What other reason is there to swear to the Demon King?”
“I know you’re skilled. I recruited you myself just a few years later.” Keito
adjusts his glasses, trying to swallow his personal feelings. “Did he offer you
a place in his empire? Does he want to overthrow the king, the Academy? Who are
his proxies, who are the other spies? If you give me enough, I may be able to
give you a quick death.”
“I already told you, I don’t know any of his plans. One can assume easily that
he finds the Academy distasteful, but I don’t think I need to confess anything
for you to know that.” Mao shifts, wriggling his fingers to keep feeling within
them. “I already told you everyone I know that works with him.” Everyone that I
can say without you being able to find him immediately. “And I’m the only spy I
know of. Sorry, sir.”
Never in a hundred years would Keito have expected Mao to be a traitor. That,
he supposes, is why everyone hates traitors so much, and why they’re so
effective. “If you’re counting on our relationship to preserve you from
torture, I’ll have to disappoint you. I do not want to do this. But you’ve seen
my methods before. This is your last chance.”
“I’m not counting on it, I assure you.” Mao’s smile is wry. “I know what you
have to do to make sure you’re doing your job, sir. I won’t hold it against
you, but I do think you need to get better at interrogation. Asking the right
questions is most of the job, I think.”
“I am not an interrogator.” Keito’s eyes tighten at the corners. “I asked for
this assignment because I...was too sentimental. I wanted to keep you from
their tools. Thank you for showing me the error of my ways. I’m sorry it had to
come to this.” He turns to leave, rapping on the door and quietly giving the
passphrase.
“You should send your forces North.” Mao leans his head back, catching Keito’s
gaze a last time as the door opens. “Makoto was from there, too, you know. The
Sena heir was heading that way to meet his mother and took him with him. Even a
low-level wizard like Makoto is impossibly dangerous if he has a half-blood
that can keep him alive indefinitely—so you might want to be careful, you
know?”
Even now, even knowing that Mao is a traitor, even knowing that his first
loyalty was never to Eichi or Keito or even the realm, a part of Keito wants to
trust him. Mao has always been so dependable--one of the few people in the
world that Keito had considered a friend.
He firms his resolve, leaves the room, and sends in the torturer.
***** Chapter 21 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
“I’ve got to go.”
Ritsu makes the announcement abruptly, about two hours before their party
reaches High Harbor, pausing his horse in the middle of the road. The sudden
flare of magic from the part of his soul that says Mao is abrupt and bright,
and he turns his horse around. “Bye.”
Subaru lurches sideways, blocking his way. “Eh? We’ve got to get to High
Harbor, you’re cloaking us!”
“Get out of my way or I’ll kill your horse.”
“Hold on, hold on,” Izumi interrupts before Ritsu can do just that, wrenching
his own horse around to come next to Ritsu’s side. “What is it? Stop blocking
him, he’ll definitely kill your horse,” he warns Subaru.
Subaru jumps off the horse, putting himself between it and Ritsu, puffed up and
annoyed.
“Mao,” Ritsu says, eyes flitting around, distracted. “He’s in trouble, he got
caught. He’ll die if I don’t go save him.”
“Are you trying to head all the way back to the capital? Ritsu…” Izumi
hesitates. He gets it, obviously. That’s why he’s been riding like a bat out of
hell to High Harbor, but—he’s not the one cloaking them, and he is the one that
absolutely had sex with a wizard less than ten hours ago. If that isn’t going
to rain hell down on them… “Okay. Is there anything you can do to keep us
cloaked until we reached High Harbor, then? Even if it’s temporary—we’ll just
ride harder.”
Ritsu thinks for a moment with every part of his mind not currently at the
Academy. “Fine.” He hops off his horse, breathing hard, and lays a hand on the
saddle. Magic flows out of him, and he nods. “If you keep hold of the saddle or
reins, you’ll be fine.”
That’s all he has time for before he transforms, black wings unfurling from his
back, fangs dripping from his mouth, fingernails sprouting sharp and long, skin
drawn pale and gaunt. He launches into the air, flitting faster than he ever
could on his horse, all of his skill at cloaking and hiding his true form gone
to shield the others.
“Well,” Izumi says calmly, holding firmly to the reins of the horse currently
trying to bolt away from him, while his own spooks and rears underneath him,
“that just happened. Sounds like we should ride fast.”
“How am I supposed to hold on to a saddle while I’m riding?” Makoto asks
nervously, leaning to the side to grab the saddle’s pommel. His horse shifts
nervously, and he pales. “I can barely ride at all...”
“Yeah, no kidding, you suck,” Izumi mutters, releasing his own horse’s reins
when he leaps off of his back, hauling himself into the saddle of Ritsu’s horse
instead. Ritsu’s horse is high strung and wall-eyed, furious about his master
leaving, but Izumi keeps a firm hand on his reins as he grabs for Makoto,
pulling him clear off of his horse and into the saddle behind him. “There. Hold
onto me, I won’t let you die.” He whirls the horse around, shrugging at Subaru.
“You’re human, you don’t need this.”
“Yep!” Subaru shifts his bandolier, adjusting it so his sword is easier to draw
on a moment’s notice. “But we should still ride fast, just in case. Follow me!”
Makoto clings onto Izumi’s waist for dear life, his skills as a rider just
about rock bottom, his ass slapping painfully against the saddle with every
stride.
Two hours turns to a swift hour and fifteen minutes, maybe.
Down a couple of horses good for little but packing old men around, and they
can ride very swiftly. It’s unpleasant all around, and Izumi has honestly had
his fill of the neurotic, skinny little racers from the Capital and West.
Even if Ritsu’s horse is obnoxious to ride, arriving an hour early is worth it.
The sun is nowhere close to rising. Izumi reins the beast in, and nearly tips
off himself when Makoto’s weight shifts incorrectly for the millionth time when
the horse half-rears. “I’m giving you riding lessons, starting tomorrow,” he
grinds out, forcing the horse to go in little circles to calm down in what
looks like a massive courtyard. “Neither Shu or Mika were this incompetent, so
I know it’s not a wizard thing—you’re giving Northerners a bad name!”
He finally leaps off of the horse, keeping a tight grip onto his reins, and
huffs, irritated and sore and far sweatier than he ever wants to be. “Is this
place really safe?” It looks like a run of the mill noble villa, the kind that
he’s become accustomed to in the capital, and comparable in wealth to one of
the crown’s accessory homes. It seems…too obvious, if he’s being honest, but…
“L…Lord Subaru?”
The voice that greets them is soft and tiny, and the boy it belongs to—well, it
matches. He’s easily half a head shorter than even Izumi, dressed in the
clothing of a servant, albeit one of a well-to-do house. A stable boy,
specifically, is Izumi’s guess, judging by how his pale, blue-dyed hair is
pulled back from his face, the gloves on his hands are well-worn, and the toe
of his boots have bits of hay and muck stuck to them. A noble’s stable boy that
doesn’t know how to present himself well, that’s what he is. “You’ve arrived
safely, ahh, I’m so glad…”
“Shinonon!” Subaru runs over with a huge beaming smile on his face, scooping
the boy up and spinning him around in a fierce hug. “You’re wonderful!! Lord
Izumi, this is Hajime, isn’t he great? He’s a stableboy, but sometimes he
serves in the main house.”
Makoto stares, trying to force his weary, aching limbs to let him off the
horse. “Um, it definitely has a seal in place,” he groans, balls aching from
being smacked against the saddle over and over again. “No one should be able to
sense anything in here, ow, ow.”
Hajime squeaks, dangling where he’s held, clinging to Subaru’s shoulders so
that he isn’t launched clear across the courtyard. “U-um! L-Lord Subaru,
please, you shouldn’t—“
“Hiding in plain sight, no kidding,” Izumi mutters, uninterested in Subaru’s
pet as he glances around the courtyard. “The prince is here, right? Where?”
“H…His Highness, he, ah, he…um—“ Hajime twists in Subaru’s hold. “I’ll take
Lord Ritsu’s horse, Milord—yours is in the stable—“
Izumi stops dead. “Mine?”
“T…the big grey one, right? I think his head is bigger than me…”
“Ah, that’s got to be some of Lord Izumi’s Palatial Reserve stock,” Makoto
mutters, remembering his time running away from work in his childhood, watching
Izumi pat the enormous heads.
“Highness? Your highness?” The voice grows steadily more frantic, the sounds of
doors opening and closing all over the estate, until a curly blue head of hair
pokes out of the courtyard door, eyes widening behind spectacles as he notices
the new arrivals. “Oh! Hello, Subaru, welcome home, and you must be the Sena
heir, and...ah, forgive me, I haven’t been a Dawncloak for quite sometime, I
don’t quite recognize...”
Izumi is uninterested, and promptly moves to snatch Hajime out of Subaru’s
hold. “Take me to the stables.”
“U-um—!”
“You’re a stableboy, aren’t you? Let’s go.”
Hajime frantically grabs for Subaru’s horse’s reins. “I—c-certainly, Milord!
Um, Lord Subaru, if you need anything, please let me know!”
Subaru pulls an apple out of his saddlebags, tossing it over to Hajime with a
smile. “That’s for your brother and sister, I’ve got more for you later, come
by my room!”
Just after Hajime and Izumi move into the stables, Tsumugi hurries over to
Makoto, asking in a low tone, “Did you happen to see a young man as you rode,
perhaps wearing a hood, perhaps riding quickly towards the Capital?”
“Ah, no, we didn’t really...see much, we only traveled at night.”
Izumi, dragging both Ritsu’s horse and Hajime (dragging Subaru’s horse), is
uninterested in anything but the possibility that maybe, maybe—“Now,” he flatly
says, “when you say it’s my horse, do you mean that it’s Northern stock, or—“
There’s a crash from the stable—perhaps better described as the sound of a wall
all but crashing down—and a yelp that follows it. “Horse loose, horse loose!”
“I mean your horse, Milord,” Hajime squeaks, and ducks behind Izumi in an
attempt avoid the enormous, charging beast that has absolutely knocked down an
entire stall door to escape. “He’s so big—“
“No way,” Izumi breathes, dropping Hajime and the reins of Ritsu’s horse in a
heartbeat. Thank god he does, because Ritsu’s horse bolts, skittering sideways,
fairly convinced that Vale—a slightly skinnier, not anywhere near as
immaculately groomed Vale—is going to ram directly into him. The horse skids to
a stop instead, and nearly knocks Izumi to the ground when Izumi grabs him,
swinging his enormous head with an loud snort. “Looook at you, you’re too
skinny, what have they been doing to you?!”
“What kind of establishment are you running here if horses can simply escape
like that?” The scolding comes from the other side of the stables, and it’s so
familiar (in the stuffiest sense) that Izumi actually bothers looking up from
cuddling his horse. “Honestly…Your Highness, please, report into the house
before they actually realize you’ve been absent…”
“Your Highness!” Tsumugi’s voice rings out again, fretful, but now from the
other side of the castle. Good.
Leo ducks out from under Tsukasa’s arm, shaking his hair out as he tries to
finger-comb it into its tail. “Leave me alone, go to your top-heavy woman, I’m
busy!”
He dashes out from the stables, vaguely remembers something from the corner of
his eye, then dashes back in to the other side, following that flash of silver
hair like a beacon until he stands in front of Izumi, his heart thudding.
“Bastard page,” he whispers, green eyes filling.
His horse being returned to him could only be topped by one thing, after all.
Izumi releases Vale in the next breath, stumbling back from him when the sight
of Leo nearly fells him. Alive, he’s alive, they weren’t lying to me, he’s
right here and he’s alive—and that so rapidly replaces the last image he had of
Leo (bleeding out in an alley outside of a no-name bar) that Izumi’s own eyes
blur sharply with tears.
“Leo.” Izumi lurches forward, grabs him, and hugs him so tightly it lifts Leo
off of his feet. The familiar scent of him fills his nose, and Izumi shudders,
squeezing him harder. “Gods, you’re alive.”
“Last I checked,” Leo squeaks, and finally the spell that seems to be binding
him in place is broken, letting him wrap his arms and legs around Izumi,
burying his face in Izumi’s--
“Your hair, what’s wrong with your hair, it’s not long enough! Are you--of
course you’re fine, I knew they were all liars, you’re mine--”
“Yes, yes, I’m fine, see, all four limbs, still fully capable of picking your
scrawny ass up—“ Izumi huffs, blinking away the sting of tears that keep
wanting to resurface. He hoists Leo up more securely, partially slinging him
over his shoulder. “Hair grows back, Milord, don’t worry about it. Look at you,
you’re completely fine, aren’t you—ah, if you have a scar, I’ll never forgive
myself…”
“I think it makes me look super manly,” Leo protests, but doesn’t bother
disentangling to show off how tiny the little white line on his throat is. “Rei
says he can’t get rid of the mark of a mortal wound. I say he’s dumb if he
thinks that was mortal, because I’m still alive, haha!”
“I’ll fix it later,” Izumi resolves, and subsequently grabs Vale by the tail,
slapping his ass to make him turn around and stop trying to eat the flower
gardens that seem to be everywhere. “Here, up you go,” he grunts, throwing Leo
over Vale’s bare back. “You’re still dressed for a ride, so we’re going. They
told me you were already here, you know. What have you been up to?”
It takes more effort than he’d like to admit to haul himself onto the back of a
much taller horse without a saddle after so long, and Izumi apologetically rubs
Vale’s shoulder after needing to use his mane as a veritable rope ladder. “How
close is this place to the ocean? You know what, never mind, I’ll find out.”
“I went to find you,” Leo grumbles, clinging to Izumi’s waist. “And then I met
the Emperor, and Tsukasa said you were back here, so we turned around.”
“…You met…who?”Izumi shakes his head, steering Vale with his leg alone, his
fingers loosely wrapped up in his mane. It’s a blessing to have his horse back,
for sure, a horse that isn’t just a plodder or a crazed racer, but Leo…Leo
against his back, warm and solid and alive… “You know, I don’t care,” he
exhales, making brisk work of escaping the back courtyard. The state seems to
border most of the main roads, but in the middle of the night, it’s still
empty, and that’s a relief. More of a relief—not having a wizard with them
that’s incredibly easy to track. “We could just run away, you know.”
“All right,” Leo agrees. It’s too easy that he agrees, but he’s tired, and
being cuddled up to Izumi takes all of his determination and leaves him with
nothing but relief from head to toe. “Where should we go?”
“Wherever we want. But first things first, back to the capital, so I can kill
some people.”
Following the scent of salt spray is easy, and it turns out, the estate is
right against the ocean, with a number of narrow, sandy paths leading there.
Vale finds this distasteful—seagrass isn’t exactly edible—but Izumi nudges him
forward anyway, until the dune drops off and Izumi leans back to not go over
Vale’s head, letting the horse pick his way down the sharp incline. “Everything
has gone so far to shit,” he sighs. “I don’t even want to deal with it, you
know?”
“You don’t have to,” Leo says softly, nuzzling against Izumi’s upper back,
holding him tight. “That’s why I’m the prince. It’s my job to deal with stuff
like this. You just have to keep me alive until I do.”
“You could use a better bodyguard. I already came pretty close to fucking that
up.”
“Then get better. I haven’t waited this long to have someone else as my bastard
page, you know.” Leo latches on to Izumi’s shoulder with his teeth, clamping
down, then releasing. “Besides, getting caught like that was my fault. I
shouldn’t have been running around without an escort, or getting drunk in town.
I’m just...really sorry you got caught up in that stupid coup.”
“…It’s a lot easier to say ‘get better’ when you didn’t fuck up and see me
die.”
He wipes a hand down his face, annoyed, and kicks Vale down the rest of the
dune. It’s high tide, and the water already laps at his horse’s hooves.
Seeing Leo alive was such a rush that coming down from it, being reminded that
he almost had died, feels even worse. Coming so close to the worst failure of
his life—it’s a feeling of dread that he can’t quite shake, especially when it
could easily happen again. Too many people want Leo dead. Too many people know
what he is now, and that makes him so much easier to subdue—which makes it so
much harder to keep Leo safe. It’s a terrible, paralyzing fear, and his fingers
tremble. Just get better. Easy to say, hard to do when he already was so sure
he did everything he could and it wasn’t enough.
Finally, quietly, Izumi says, “I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”
Slowly, Leo unwinds his arms from around Izumi’s waist. “I can’t force you to
keep me safe,” he says softly, and tips himself back over Vale’s rump,
splashing into the cold water of the ocean, rolling quickly to the side to
avoid being stomped in case Vale spooks.
“Ah—Milord, why?” Izumi incredulously demands, releasing Vale’s mane to slide
off after Leo, standing in the knee-high water. “Stop it, you’re going to drift
off to sea. It’s far too cold for you, get up.” 
“Let someone else come get me,” Leo says, starting to kick his feet,
backstroking out away from the shore. “Goodbye, bastard page, this is my fate,
I’m going. Maybe I’ll get eaten by a stray merman, that sounds nice.”
Izumi scowls as he lurches forward, grabbing Leo by the ankle to haul him back.
“You’re pissing me off! Don’t be such a selfish brat, obviously I’m not going
to let you drift off to sea.”
“Not your job, though.” Leo blinks up at Izumi, not thrashing anymore, gazing
up through clear eyes. “Don’t tell me you’e already forgotten that I’m
infuriating and changeable? If you don’t want to protect me anymore, I won’t
hold you to it. You can still be my lover. I’ll do the traditional thing and
choose a child without ties for my squire.”
“You’re not listening to me, to hell with you!”
Izumi can hear himself start to cry before he even feels it, or sees the
stinging, salty brine of tears blur his vision. He releases Leo’s ankle,
jerking away, stalking away through the shallow water. “I didn’t say I didn’t
want to protect you anymore! I said I wasn’t good enough, fucking open up your
ears!” He throws himself back against Vale’s shoulder—Vale, unfazed, trying to
eat seaweed—with a harsh, hiccuping breath. “I gave up everything to stay at
your side,” he bites out. “I’ve turned down offer after offer and embarrassed
myself to stay the oldest page in court. I’ve killed myself for the past year
to make a name for myself so I was something other than the only heir of a
province no one gives a damn about, so you’d stop getting snubbed at court for
favoring me. Then—t-the one time I have to prove myself as someone who can
really protect you, and I fuck it up, even after all of that—your uncle’s
right, I’m nothing more than a traitor, a shitty bastard.” Izumi sniffs,
shoving a hand underneath his running nose. “Don’t you ever fucking say I don’t
want to protect you again, that’s the fucking worst thing I’ve ever heard.”
Leo sighs. Izumi crying is absolutely his weak point, and he scrubs his hands
over his face, feeling the sting of the saltwater. He follows after Izumi,
standing up to grab Izumi’s shoulders with a grip like iron, fingers digging
into his skin. “You’re misunderstanding me, idiot,” he says softly, stepping
close enough that their noses touch, both of them dripping with water and snot,
both of them crybabies at heart. “As long as you love me, as long as you want
to protect me, you have a place at my side. So the only reason you should ever
leave is that--look, I’m not saying I’m good with words, I hate words! But I
love you!”
Izumi sobs, throwing his arms around Leo and squeezing him so tightly that he
hears his own bones pop. “I saw you die,” he whispers, his voice shaking as he
buries his face into Leo’s hair. “And it was my f-fault. I w-want to protect
you, I want to, god, I want to, but I…I don’t know how to trust that I can,
Leo, t…tell me how I’m supposed to do that.”
“Humans die,” Leo whispers, clinging to Izumi as hard as he can, nuzzling into
Izumi’s ear, sniffing loudly before he can stop himself. “It’s all right, you
know? I’ll die someday, that doesn’t mean you’re doing a bad job, I know that’s
not a comfort but it’s true, my love. Just...remember how much worse everyone
else would be. That’s the same for my love, I can’t imagine giving it to anyone
but you.”
“No. You…you’re not allowed to die. I love you so much, you can’t ever die.”
Izumi sniffs again, his hands fisting into Leo’s stupid, soaking wet shirt. “I
don’t get to die, so neither do you. And gods,” he sobs again, a hiccuping, not
entirely sane laugh mixed in with it. “I tried. W-when they told me you were
dead, I gave up, I did, I wanted to die, at least t-then I would’ve been able
to see you.”
“My love...”
Leo pulls back, wiping the hair out of Izumi’s face with wet hands, hardly
feeling the water tugging at his feet and calves. His gaze is searching,
penetrating, and his voice drops to a whisper, as uncertain as the sand he’s
standing on. “Oh, oh my love. What did they do to you?”
Izumi shakes his head, letting his face tip forward down into Leo’s hands.
“Nothing I wouldn’t go through again, if it meant you would live,” he whispers,
even as a shudder rakes down his spine. He draws back, folding his arms across
his chest, bolstering himself against the chill that uncomfortably sets in.
“If…when you become king,” he firmly corrects, staring down into the water
running over his booted feet, “there are some houses…that I’ll never, ever see
in your court. I’ll kill them before they can walk through the doors.”
“I’m not going to be my father,” Leo warns. “No personal vengeances. If someone
has done wrong, you’ll handle it in an honorable vengeance duel, or you’ll
handle it through the courts, like anyone else. A king handling things under
the table is how I got so many people on my side, you know?”
“I’m not the king.” Izumi lifts his gaze, his eyes glowing too-bright. “And I
never said it would be under the table. I’ll cut them down publicly and finish
it properly this time.”
Leo lays a hand on Izumi’s face, feeling the chill of it, his own drawn tight
with worry. “What did they do to you?” he asks again, voice not above a
whisper. “Don’t think you can get away with not telling me.”
Izumi’s lips press into a thin line, and he leans back, grabbing Leo’s hand
from his face to press a kiss to it instead. “It’s nothing a prince should
hear,” he quietly says. “I still hate that they found out I was a half-blood.
He tried to poison you, you know, your uncle.”
“I know. I rode out to kill him.” Leo turns his hand, showing where it had been
stained carmine from the ribbon tied around it for two days. “Only hearing that
you lived stayed my hand. But now I feel like I should have kept riding, if
he’s killed the light in your eyes.”
“He didn’t touch me. He just…facilitated the whole thing.” Izumi shrugs,
restlessly glancing aside. “Karn, Hennessy, Blake, Plaskett, Rains, Wynne.” The
names roll off of his tongue like a sickening poem, and it makes his stomach
flip. “Those are the houses involved. Your uncle specifically recruited all of
them. I have bastards in Karn, Hennessy, and Rains.”
He didn’t touch me.
 That phrase in particular echoes in Leo’s mind in a sickening, echoing
finality. It’s such a specific thing to say for no reason that it makes Leo
clutch at Izumi’s shirt, wishing he still had the ribbon tied to his wrist. “If
they were men,” he says lowly, voice trembling, “they would have faced you in
combat. As you can them, when I’m king--I’ll approve all of your duel
requests.”
“And make it obvious I went crying to you? No, fuck that. They’ll be dead by my
hand before you take the throne.” The words are final, entirely uninterested in
negotiation. Izumi’s jaw tenses, and he unlaces the top of his shirt, yanking
it down, letting Leo see the ugly, blotchy white scar that spans a good portion
of the bottom of his neck. “When they found out I was a half-blood, they
drugged me, collared me like an animal, all with poison and magic meant for
beasts. Then they sold me like one, again and again and again.” His voice
shakes, as does his lower lip, and Izumi bites it until he tastes blood against
his tongue. “They aren’t interested in treating me like a man, so I won’t
extend the same courtesy.”
Leo’s stomach turns over. Then abruptly it flares, as if Leo’s entire body is
roaring to life, staring at the blotched skin creating a mar--on his, his
knight.
And worse, it’s far too easy to imagine, with Leo’s mind, Izumi in a cold cell,
his body sold to men who don’t deserve him, curled up and pleading for death.
“I wish I were you,” he whispers, hands resting against Izumi’s neck and chin,
holding him close, trying to make himself understood with every cell in his
fingertips. “I’d--I’d give anything to swear vengeance right now and ride out,
and it--gods of my forefathers, it kills me that me doing that would be a royal
statement. All I can think is...if I declare war on my father, if he won’t
denounce them, they’ll be war criminals, at least. And I’d do it, for you.”
Izumi laughs wetly at that, and he shakes his head, grabbing for Leo again,
throwing his arms around him. “Please don’t. Please, please don’t. Just let me
kill them and be done with it. It’s…it’s already disgusting and shameful
enough, don’t you think? How would you even frame it to your father? Gods, he
probably even knows by now.”
“It’s not hard to say that they tortured you,” Leo says softly. “That’s what it
was--I would never call something like that...anything else. I’ll tell him that
he has the opportunity to rid himself of monsters in the realm, and if he
refuses, it’s not the realm I want to run.”
But they’ll know I said something. All of them will know, that’s the worst
part. Izumi shifts uncomfortably, looking aside. “He already announced that you
were dead,” he quietly points out. “I don’t know if he believes it or not,
but…I’m afraid he’ll try to say it’s not really you, or something ridiculous
like that. I’m not trying to talk you out of it, just…running through things. I
don’t know, I’m so tired.”
Leo grabs Izumi’s shirt, then deliberately falls back again, dragging them both
back into the water this time. Gentle waves crash over them, and he gulps a
little seawater, spitting it out in a thin stream. “Let me carry you for a
while. I’ve been cooped up and dying to go do something. I have...some choices
to make soon. Just let me know that you’ll be at my side. I don’t ever want you
leaving it again.”
Izumi spits seawater, coughing for a moment with a ragged huff to follow. “It’s
so cold, how are you standing this?” he incredulously asks, automatically
trying to climb back to his feet, hauling Leo with him. He sniffs, wiping at
his nose. “I don’t ever want to leave your side again,” he murmurs. “I mean
that. Let me grow my hair back out and I’ll make a convincing woman, I’ll be
your wife that hides a sword under her skirt.”
“Fool,” Leo says softly, becoming dead weight around Izumi’s neck, dangling
there. “Hide it like a real woman does, in the back of your corset.”
“Sounds like it would get in the way of tightening the strings all the way,”
Izumi wryly says, pulling Leo back onto his feet, mostly. He lets Leo dangle
around his neck before he slings him up and onto Vale’s back. “Get up there.
Please tell me you have a private room at this…weird estate I’ve been dragged
to. I want to take a bath, and hold you, and sleep.”
“Of course we do,” Leo says with a sigh. “As if the Demon King would do
otherwise. And the fake lord and lady are quite nice...you probably should look
at the way our dear lady does it, if you want to see how to hide a truly
terrifying amount of knives in a corset and skirts.”
“I’ve been hearing so damned much about this Demon King,” Izumi mutters,
hauling himself up onto Vale’s back with a little huff of effort. “He better be
delightfully terrifying. Also, I don’t want to hide knives, I want to hide a
whole damned sword. Maybe two.”
Leo opens his mouth to respond, only to be cut off by the sudden clamoring of
enormous bells, ringing out from the castle town, reverberating through the
beach. His brows draw together, and he looks up at the bluffs. “I’m not sure
what that is,” he says slowly, “but I don’t think it’s a good sound. I used to
hear it sometimes as a child...”
“I have no idea what that is,” Izumi warily agrees, but he gives Vale a swift
kick, bringing his head up from his seaweed-sampling attempts. “To the estate
or away from it, Milord? I don’t even know how many fugitives are there right
now, so if those bells have anything to do with that…”
“I don’t know.” But he’s the prince, so he has to make a decision. Leo takes a
breath, then says, “To the estate. I’m sick of running.”
Izumi nods, urging Vale forward. “Hold on—I wouldn’t say Vale is a jumper,”
Izumi grouses, but even with him saying that, Vale scales and leaps back over
the dunes with far more enthusiasm than a horse his size should have.
They emerge over the dunes just in time to see something launch into the sky,
huge, black leathery wings splayed out and flapping once before the thing is
simply gone. Vale bolts underneath them, uncharacteristically unsettled, and
Izumi clings to his mane, staring up at the sky. If he hadn’t seen something so
similar only hours before, he’d be shaken, but… “That…probably wasn’t Ritsu,”
he hazards. “So…I guess I’m not meeting the Demon King tonight.”
“I don’t know who Ritsu is,” Leo murmurs, trying to track the movement of that
thing in the sky, “but if he’s anything like that thing, he’s officially weird.
Definitely from the moon, don’t you think? Ah, now I think we should just take
cover until morning, you know? A really awesome horse like this going through
the gate right now...if whatever’s happening can fly too, and there’s eyes on
us from above, I don’t want to draw attention to the estate.”
“Ritsu is the Demon King’s brother…so yes. Basically from the moon.”
Izumi chews on his lower lip, then nods, settling Vale with a pat on his neck.
The horse snorts, still displeased at the sight of some weird demon thing, and
Izumi urges him towards a different side path. “Ritsu’s…lover? or something—was
in trouble back in the capital. He’s been spying for the Demon King, I think,
and got caught. Maybe the Demon King went to help.”
“I doubt Shu will like that,” Leo says softly. “The wizard, he’s a wizard at
the estate. He and Rei seemed quite attached.”
“I know Shu. I was his bodyguard. Is he well?” Ahh, now he’s itching to go back
to the estate. “Is Mika with him, too? And Arashi?”
“Ehhh, so you really know them? Captain Arashi and I talk about you sometimes.”
Leo looks around, and bites his lip. “I bet we can sneak back in. They all
really want to see you, and I’m sure Vale needs to eat about nine buckets of
oats.”
“Oh, gods, what has he been saying about me? Don’t believe him, he’s the
worst,” Izumi protests, giving Vale a sharp kick when he finally settles enough
to start trying to eat trees again. “Will you reach back and slap his ass, it’s
all this brute deserves. Gods, I missed him, though,” Izumi groans, slumping
forward for a moment to hug his horses’s neck. “Second only to you, this
fatass.”
“I wish I’d found him. Then we could have searched for you together, and I’d
have found you in two hours.” Leo reaches behind, and slaps Vale on the rump as
hard as he can with the flat of his hand.
Vale grunts at that, his ears half-heartedly lying back against his head, but
he moves forward anyway. “I wish you had, too,” Izumi says with a sigh as they
move back to the proper road surrounding the estate. “You would’ve fed him
properly, too. Look how skinny he is, he’s dying.”
The estate gate is empty of activity except for the posted guards, and Izumi
takes that to be a good sign. “It seems quiet,” he notes, nodding to the
guards, who wave them on through. Apparently, they’ve been notified about who
he is as well. “That’s a good sign, I suppose?”
“It can’t be a bad sign,” Leo says hopefully. He swings down off of Vale,
whistling for a stableboy to take Vale, instructing, “Make sure you just, you
just feed the hell out of him. There’s basically no amount that’s too much. Oh,
and where’s Captain Arashi, and the wizards?”
It’s Hajime again, tiny and retreating as he was the first time, and he bows
clumsily, all the marks of a lowborn attempting to fit in with society far too
noble for him. “The last I heard, Milord, they were sharing wine in the
hall—the bells worried them, Milord…”
“You be good for this kid,” Izumi warns Vale as he slides off of his back. A
last slap to the horse’s flank, and he swings his arm around Leo instead,
uninterested in being anything but touchy and clingy when he finally has him
back in his sights.
They barely make it over the threshold of the dining hall before a chair is
flung back to shatter against a wall. The next second, Captain Arashi of the
Sharps, a few huge fading bruises still visible on his skin, slams into Izumi
with a hug that shoves him back several steps. “I knew it! I knew you were
alive, I’ve been saying it, you’re so tough and you don’t even look terrible, I
hate you, I’m not crying--”
Back at the table, Shu draws himself up to his full height, giving Leo a small
bow even as his face is a mask of relief. “It’s good to see you’re well,” he
calls, but doesn’t try to intrude on the rather violent hug currently
occurring.
The noises Izumi would be making are sufficiently muffled against Arashi’s
chest, and he flails for a moment before surrendering. “Fuck you, you aren’t
human,” he gasps, throwing his head back to breathe and speak when he swings
both arms around Arashi, clapping him hard on the back. “I look better than not
terrible, be nice to me, you asshole! Ahh, I’m not c-crying either, it’s the
salt in the air here, this is the worst!”
“Snakes’re hard to kill,” Mika pipes up, chin in his hands, his hair groomed
and tied back from his face for once with a neat green ribbon. “Told you.”
“Yes, yes, I suppose you were correct, but I did only say I wanted to see him
well, use your ears.”
Arashi finally lets Izumi go, breathing hard and wiping at his eyes, now
watering freely. “Seriously, you look so good, I hate you, I still look
horrific. My gods, come, eat, you look like you haven’t had anything for a
year. Your highness, you really should feed your Kingsguard.”
“Oi! He never lets me!”
“What do you mean, you ass? You look fantastic, ugh, get back here, who the
fuck hit your face, that’s a crime,” Izumi insists, lurching after Arashi to
compulsively grab him by the chin, fingers swiftly pressing over the dark, ugly
bruise mottling one of his cheekbones and watching it fade. “There, that’s
better.”
“I brought more wine,” Tsukasa announces as he walks into the hall, a bottle in
each hand, pausing for a moment at the sight. “Ah, good, you did make it here
safely after all. Your Highness, please don’t run off like that so suddenly
again, you caused us all a great amount of distress when the bells rang.”
Arashi huffs out a breath, pressing his fingers to the newly-healed area. “I’ve
missed you, the healers said that bone was shattered. What about you, I’ve
talked to your wizard and he said you were stabbed? Like, many times?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to share your information--”
Leo whirls on Izumi, glaring. “He conveniently left that part out.”
Izumi holds his hands up defensively. “Like I wanted to think about it? I
barely even remember that part, I swear. Ah, give me some of that wine, I’ve
had a long ride,” he complains, grabbing a bottle out of Tsukasa’s hold and
collapsing down into the nearest chair, pulling Leo down into his lap as
casually as he would any other friend in the room, if not even more so, which
raises a few eyebrows. Tsukasa nearly drops the other wine bottle. Izumi
doesn’t notice, and teases Arashi with: “Anything else you need fixed up,
Milady? Shu, you look well, at least. Did I miss the Demon King again?”
“He had to adjourn for the evening,” Shu says, a hint of sourness creeping into
his voice and face, glaring down at his goblet of wine as if it had taken his
lover away. “A matter of some importance--and of course, the Faerie found our
scent, somehow. I don’t know how that bastard does what he does, but he’s the
Emperor’s favorite for a reason.”
“I met him once,” Makoto says softly. “The Faerie. He’s so...so much. I thought
I was going to die just by being around him too long.”
“Nonsense. He’s...” Shu swallows a gulp of wine, making a face at the taste, to
which he is not accustomed. “He used to be a very good friend of mine. Have you
met him, Your Highness?”
Leo shakes his head, reaching for his own goblet, then pours it into Izumi’s
mouth. “I’ve met the Emperor quite a few times, but never the Faerie. Tsukasa,
have you? Your family has close ties with the Academy, no?”
“I’ve met him.”
Tsukasa pours his own goblet of wine, a frown on his lips. “He’s aptly named.
Being around him as a human is as if…you’ve walked out onto a summer day that’s
far too humid. You’re hit in the face by that wall of heat, and it slaps the
breath right out of you. Unpleasant.” He shivers, and takes a long sip of wine.
“Like those plays about faeries—it feels as though he’s going to drag you off
somewhere and not let you return. Being around him always made me uneasy, but
he does seem to make Himemiya uncomfortable as well, so I enjoy that.”
“Himemiya…isn’t that your cousin?” Izumi presses Leo, slinging an arm tight
about his waist and insistently topping off the now-empty goblet with more
wine. “I forgot he bloomed, that’s so strange to think about.”
“Ain’t just poor people that turn into wizards,” Mika softly points out,
avoiding the wine altogether. “Everyone’s got a chance at being fucked over by
the crown.”
“Being fucked over by the crown is likewise not a privilege relegated to the
impoverished or to wizards,” Leo says darkly. “We do it just fine to
ourselves.”
“Hear, hear,” Arashi laughs, toasting his glass in the air, far more cheerful
now that the unsightly (and painful) bruise on his cheek is gone.
“And yes, the Himemiya line is a close cousin of ours. He was next in line,
after me. But now...” Leo frowns briefly. “Now it’s father, then me, then uncle
Rodan, may the crows feast on his eyes, then...Tsukasa, is it your father, or
you next? No, it’s you, you’re a distaff line, correct?”
Mika neatly deposits himself into Arashi’s lap, arms slung around his neck.
Tsukasa grimaces, and takes another drink of wine. “Your father has confirmed
you to be dead, Your Highness—so it’s Duke Rodan—“
“Boooo, rot in hell.”
“Yes, Lord Izumi, indeed. Duke Rodan, then myself. Ahh, that gives me chills
thinking about it, I need another slice of cake…”
“You’re getting fat,” Arashi warns, but he waves to a servant anyway, who cuts
a slice of cake and delivers it to Tsukasa.
“He stress-eats, always has,” Leo says fondly, grabbing for a cherry and
popping it into his mouth. “Ah, is it unmannerly of me to ask for introductions
for everyone? Does everyone...know each other, or am I the one that knows
everyone but one person here?”
“I think I’m the only one that knows everyone,” Izumi wryly admits, pulling the
cherry stem from Leo’s fingers to pop it into his own mouth.
“Unfortunately, I think I know very few of you as well,” Tsukasa apologizes
after shoving a piece of cake into his mouth. “Most of my family’s dealings
remain within the capital. Sir Tsukasa, son of the Suou house, adjacent to the
crown.”
“Leo,” Leo says with a grin, “dead prince. Either first in line for the crown
or not in line at all, depending on how dead my father actually wants me.”
“Shu. Wizard, and Nightcloak. Formerly the Academy’s Reigning Champion,
currently in service to Captain Arashi.”
“Ooh, that one’s me. Captain Arashi of the Sharps, though I don’t mind if you
call me Milady in private.” Arashi winks. “Common born, so you wouldn’t know
me, Milord, since I got my title through actions out in the West.”
“M-Makoto,” Makoto stammers, looking down at his hands. “Dawncloak. Wizard, I
should have said first, sorry. I’m a, um, researcher.” He spares a look for Shu
and Mika, looking entirely terrified. “I’m not like them, I’m not fancy or
talented.”
Mika stifles a yawn into his hand, one arm still loosely coiled about Arashi’s
neck. “Mika. Wizard, Nooncloak, from the Sandlands. Shu’s my master.”
“And literally everyone knows who I am, I suppose?” Izumi says with a snort,
pulling out the cherry stem from his mouth and idly dropping it back into Leo’s
hand, tied in a neat knot. “But just to make sure—Izumi, heir of the Sena house
of the North. Forever a page at this point, I think.”
“I’ve never met a page as old as you,” Tsukasa unhelpfully points out.
“Thanks. I know.”
“It’s because he won’t serve anyone but me,” Leo says fondly, plucking the
cherry stem from Izumi’s fingers with a sly glance that quickly turns heated.
“Nor do I want him to. It makes sense not just for his future loyalties, but
for the North.”
“They love him up there,” Makoto says softly, then frowns, annoyed with himself
as if he’s troubled the great lords at the table by speaking. “I apologize for
talking, I just...”
“Ooh! If you’re from the North,” Arashi reasons, “do you have stories about
Izumi as a child?”
“Um, yes, from before I bloomed, I suppose--”
“You better be picky about what you say,” Izumi warns, his fingers skirting
lower against Leo’s hip, splaying there with a slow, affectionate squeeze.
“Tell them how exceptional I was only.”
Mika shifts in Arashi’s lap, grabs up an empty wine goblet, and promptly fills
it before pushing it over in front of Makoto. “Get a little tipsy, and ’s a lot
easier dealin’ with these kinda people,” he quietly says.
“I can go and get more wine, as necessary,” Tsukasa says, already a little
flushed, and his cake is absolutely gone. “This is a grand occasion, is it not?
Ah, though Ritsu is missing, a terrible shame…”
“We’d be complete,” Arashi says wistfully. “Ahh, he’d love this, he loves wine.
Mm, your Highness, you haven’t had a chance to meet us all as a group, but we
do appreciate you and what you stand for quite a bit.” He rests his hand on
Mika’s thigh, more fond than proprietary, as if he’s still not quite sure he’s
lucky enough to be able to touch him sometimes.
Makoto takes the wine from Mika, nodding in thanks and tipping quite a bit of
it into his mouth. Maybe if he does, it’ll feel less like Izumi had used him
and thrown him away like a crumpled bit of paper someone had spilled tea onto,
the second his precious prince was back in sight. “Lord Izumi was very kind,”
he eventually says into his glass. “He used to volunteer to go out looking for
any people or animals lost in snowstorms. It gets very very cold in the winters
there, and our storms are quite frightening.”
“Is it true, in the North, that even the estates have very few servants?”
Tsukasa has to know, because it seems so ridiculous that it can’t possibly be
true. “So even those highborn—“
“Actually know how to cook and clean, yes, rich boy, that’s how it is, bask in
your helplessness,” Izumi interrupts with a dismissive flutter of his hand.
“There’s only one real noble family in the North and it’s mine, you know.
Yuukun’s mother used to work for us, before he bloomed, that’s how we know one
another. You can tell them how cute I was as a kid, go ahead.”
Makoto darts a glance at Leo, perched happily on Izumi’s lap, and then away.
“He was a very cute child,” he says softly. “And never complained about doing
his share of chores. Every time he rode around on his horse--it wasn’t Vale
back then, it was his old horse, Bounder--people would wave at him, and say
quietly to each other that it was lucky we had such a fine young lord for the
future.”
“Which should say something about my character, mind, because everyone still
knew I was a bastard, and thought my father was some commoner, to boot,” Izumi
dryly adds, pouring himself another glass of wine, and taking a sip before
offering it to Leo next. “Gods, that was the worst about going to the capital.
All of you don’t give a shit if a commoner’s having at it with nobles, but if
it’s two men—gods forbid.”
“Ah, really?” Tsukasa’s head tilts. “Is it truly the opposite up North? No
wonder no one was surprised at the party when you and Ritsu were—“
“Of course not, he’s titled, no one gives a damn. All they want up there are
heirs, and if you’re virile enough to start sucking on someone’s tongue, then
you’ll probably move on to women at least once in your life.”
“We’re just awful everywhere,” Leo says, leaning forward onto the table to grab
another handful of fruits, then down them with a few swigs of wine. “Because my
status is far above yours, and I’ve got a prick to boot.”
A serving girl refills the bowl of cherries, then looks at Izumi and blushes,
giving him an extra little curtsy.
Izumi goes a full shade paler, and snatches the shared wine goblet away from
Leo, downing it in short order, making it a point to not even look at the girl
even once. “No, you’re perfect everywhere, Milord, trust me.”
Tsukasa watches this curiously, and remarks, “Lord Izumi, I always heard you
had something of a reputation in the capital—“
“I’ve heard of your reputation,” Izumi briskly interrupts. “Which is that
you’ll pay good money just to touch a nice pair of tits.”
“I—well!”
“Izumi, darling, don’t you think that’s a bit hypocritical of you?” Arashi
asks, eyebrow raised. “I think everyone has heard your reputation from
Glacierland to the Sandlands--hell, I’m pretty sure some Inglings know.”
Shu sniffs. “And why shouldn’t he enjoy himself? He’s unmarried and his cock is
unbound, at least someone should have fun.”
“He has plenty of fun,” Leo grouses, sitting back more firmly on Izumi’s lap.
“I don’t ever pay for it, get it right, Milady,” Izumi snidely tosses back,
encouraging Leo by pulling him back a bit more. Tsukasa looks rightfully
scandalized, but Izumi doesn’t care. At least the serving girl has gone. “If
I’ve learned one thing lately, it’s not to waste my time with women. You’re the
only girl for me now, Captain.”
“Get your own,” Mika moodily shoots back, nestling firmly into Arashi’s chest.
“Be sweet to me for five seconds, would you? I fixed his pretty face.”
“I’ve got some more for you to fix up if you really want to show off,” Arashi
says sweetly. “But it’s not appropriate for a dinner table with a prince
sitting here.”
Shu’s mouth tightens at the sight of both Mika and Leo cuddled up to their
lovers, bare moments after Wataru’s bells had echoed through the peaceful
coastal town. Don’t they know that seals crack and fray? Don’t they know that
at any moment, someone could come and destroy us all because of it?But maybe
that’s why they do it, knowing they may not have another chance. And maybe, he
admits to himself, he’s just jealous that his own lover has gone again,
sprouting great wings and dashing off towards something only he can feel.
“Regardless, I appreciate the sentiment of bullying Tsukasa here,” Leo says
cheerfully. “But I’m surprised he’s still here. Don’t you want to sneak off and
see your beloved woman made of tits?”
Tsukasa slams his wine goblet down, making the jumpier members of their little
party flinch. “She,” he slowly begins, “has the largest tits I’ve ever seen.”
Izumi snorts out a laugh at that. “Of course that’s what you like, you seem
like the type.”
“No, you…you don’t understand, Lord Izumi. They’re so large.”
“Sure, sure.”
“And I don’t pay her, how d..dare all of you!” He’s very drunk now, which is
intensely amusing. “I…am her patron.”
Izumi’s eyebrows raise, and he takes a slow sip from his own wine. “Isn’t that
sort of…”
“It’s not the same thing!” Tsukasa immediately insists. “It’s the same as you,
Lord Izumi—everyone knows why you were always so finely dressed in the
capital!”
“Because I have taste?”
“I have taste.” Tsukasa pauses, and his eyes abruptly well with tears. “H-her
son calls me father, what a good boy…”
“Is there such a thing as being too drunk?” Izumi mildly asks, his fingers idly
slipping underneath Leo’s shirt to splay over the bare skin of his stomach
instead.
“You can’t be a father, you’re my baby,” Arashi says seriously, laying a hand
not entirely accurately over Tsukasa’s, trying to hold his eyes. “I mean, I’d
still tumble you, make no mistake, but you’re definitely my baby.”
“It’s a blood pact, apparently,” Leo confides in Mika, reaching behind to give
Izumi’s chest a pinch. “They’ve all got to roll each other every so often to
swear to silence.”
“Sounds like an excuse,” Shu says mildly, behind a glass of wine.
“Sir Arashi,” Tsukasa says, staring him right in the eye, his voice very
serious, “you’re a handsome man. But outside of our pact, I am uninterested.”
Izumi laughs outright at that, even as he swats at Leo’s pinching fingers. “So
blunt! Gods, what is it with rich nobles? They’re all so rude.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand what’s rude about being honest,” Tsukasa says,
leaning back in his seat, his wine sloshing out of its goblet. “I’ve been…I’ve
been honest about what I like in women as well. And men. Both. You, Your
Highness, you’re a beauty, I like seeing you and Lord Izumi together.”
“Oh?” Leo asks, tipsy and entirely amused, leaning forward eagerly. “You like
me and Izumi, do you? Who else would you--”
“You don’t think I’m sexy?” Arashi asks, mock-put-out, squeezing Mika tight.
“What about my amaka here?”
Tsukasa flutters a hand, nodding around his next mouthful of wine. “Good.
He’s…yes.”
“He’s what now?” Izumi teases, hooking his chin over Leo’s shoulder, his
fingers idly sliding down to squeeze his thigh.
“Beautiful. Very good, what’s the word.”
“Fuckable?”
“Yes, that’s it!”
Mika rolls his eyes, unfazed, even as Izumi loses it, stifling a snort of
laughter into Leo’s hair. “Bye, Kasa, it was nice knowing you.”
Arashi’s smile sharpens, and he moves his hand to his waist, and the hilt of
his sword. “Let’s step outside for a moment, shall we?”
Tsukasa blinks back at him, not entirely understanding. “Why? It’s rather cold
out.”
“Oh, gods, he’s going to die,” Izumi snickers.
“Oh. Are you upset? Is that it? I only answered your question. Your lover is
very beautiful.”
Mika reaches down, idly patting Arashi’s sword arm. “Nobles are dumb,” he
disinterestedly says. “Don’t get up to beat his ass, I’m comfy.”
Arashi subsides, but only to curl both arms around Mika’s waist. “You can call
him beautiful, or godly, or stunning, but you can not call him fuckable. He’s
not. For you.”
“What about me?” Shu asks, flushed with a single glass of wine, red creeping in
to the top of his ears.
“Like I said, I’m just being honest,” Tsukasa insists, clearly not
understanding why this is such a terrible thing. He takes another long drink of
wine and stares at Shu, his vision swimming. “You’re…too tall. But nice. Maybe
grow your hair out.”
“Do Yuukun,” Izumi butts in, reaching for the wine bottle outright when his
goblet is empty. “He’s cute!”
“Also too tall. And glasses…no.”
“I’ll stab you, be nice to him.”
“I’m only a few centimeters taller than Izumi,” Arashi says with a pout. “And I
weigh less, how come you’d do him and not me?”
“Because you look like a man.”
The peal of laughter that follows makes Izumi’s jaw drop. “How dare you!”
“You,” Tsukasa says, jabbing a finger in Izumi’s direction, “have the prettiest
mouth I’ve seen. And your arse—men don’t look like that.”
“No, that’s not what I’m mad about, shut up,” Izumi insists, leaning over to
punch Arashi in the arm. “You don’t weigh less than me, to hell with you, you
harlot!”
Arashi laughs merrily, reaching over to mess up Izumi’s hair. “I absolutely do,
I checked your measurements from the tailor. By a good three or four kilos!”
“You’re dense,” Leo agrees, and reaches back, pinching Izumi’s ass. “It’s all
here, Tsukasa’s right. Hey, hey, get up, shake it for us, I wanna watch it
jiggle.”
Shu perks up, setting his wine aside, trying not to look too interested.
“No, I’m cuddling you,” Izumi snarls, sulking as he flops back again, hauling
Leo back into his arms once more and burying his face into the back of his
neck. “You’re so pretty, I want to die…”
“This is fine to look at, too,” Tsukasa firmly says, raising his glass.
“You could be less obvious, darling,” Arashi says with a laugh. “Most of us
have had a tumble before, it wouldn’t kill us to do it again. For a blood pact,
of course. But no one is allowed to touch my darling Mika.”
“You’re getting ahead of yourself, don’t you think?” Shu asks. “Don’t start
setting rules before anyone’s agreed to anything.”
“Yeah, maybe I don’t want to share my bastard page.” Leo sits back firmly,
attempting to crush Izumi with his slight weight.
“I’m not shareable,” Izumi agrees, brushing Leo’s hair off of the side of his
neck to plant a kiss there, which quickly turns to another, then a long,
sucking kiss as his hand sneaks up Leo’s shirt again.
“Yeah, that sounds real,” Mika snorts underneath his breath, snuggling more
firmly against Arashi’s chest.
“Izumi,” Leo says, squirming on his lap, turning with a whine, “if you’re gonna
do that, take me somewhere private, don’t lay me out like an offering.”
Makoto hears himself let out an involuntary squeak, and quickly finishes his
goblet of wine to cover it up.
“Just let me show off a little bit,” Izumi complains, his hands sliding low to
grab handfuls of Leo’s ass and pull him deeper into his lap as he kisses
another spot on Leo’s neck. “No one else here gets to touch you, I’m special,
and you’re so lovely…”
Tsukasa leans forward, elbows thunking too loudly against the table as he
watches. “See, this is good,” he says forwardly. “I prefer this to another
blood pact.”
Izumi growls, low in his throat. “Keep staring too much and we will leave.”
“Don’t you think this is a little embarrassing for their future king?” Leo
demands, though the words are cut off with a gasp when Izumi’s mouth presses
just so. “Don’t make me wait too much longer, I’ve been without you for so
long...”
“This is a very adult mood,” Arashi murmurs, glad that Mika is on his lap,
drawing him in closer. “Mika, amaka, hide my erection.”
Makoto drains the rest of his drink.
“We’re all drunk, who cares?” Izumi murmurs, nuzzling up to Leo’s ear to pull
on one of his earrings, sucking the lobe of his ear into his mouth. His fingers
slink up the front of Leo’s shirt, gently twisting one of his nipples. “Mmn,
don’t worry, I’ll stop you if you try to climb on it right here and now, we’ll
go somewhere private for that…”
“It’s always an adult mood if the snake’s around,” Mika says with a snort of
amusement, even as he cheerfully does as he’s told, wriggling back more than is
strictly necessary. Gotta hide it properly, after all.
“I can’t…decide if I need more wine or if I’m just done,” Tsukasa mutters out
loud, wiping a hand down his flushed face. “My life was easier before men…”
“I kind of miss my weird underwear,” Makoto announces into his wine, louder
than is strictly necessary. “At least I wasn’t always embarrassing myself.”
Shu winces. “Did you have the training plate, with the spikes?”
“I do not miss the spikes, Excellency.”
Arashi grimaces. “I forgot about you,” he says to Makoto. “Ah, are you the only
one without a lover?”
“Yes,” Makoto says quickly, darting a glance at Izumi. “Alone. Always. No
lovers, I’m a virgin of course.”
Leo rolls his eyes, but arches his back, slowly, deliberately grinding down on
the growing bulge under his ass. “You feel good,” he murmurs, eyes lidding.
“One more glass and I might just let you have me on the table.”
“Someone give me a glass of wine,” Izumi abruptly says, hiking up Leo’s shirt
further as he sucks on the side of his neck, grabbing at his hips to pull him
down deliberately against the hard line of his cock.
Tsukasa to the rescue—he shoves over his mostly full goblet, and Izumi grabs
Leo’s chin, tilting his head back. “C’mon, Leo, you’re the one that said it,”
he teases, thumbing open Leo’s mouth, goblet in the other hand. “Now open up.”
“Wait, can the snake actually put his dick in someone?” Mika whispers against
Arashi’s ear, eyes widening in a mix of amusement and surprise. “Heeeh, who
knew…”
Leo tilts his head back, his better judgment already gone, relieved by a
combination of both the wine and finally being around trusted friends. The wine
is sweet in his mouth and warming in his stomach, and gives him the excuse he
wants to turn his head, sucking on Izumi’s thumb as he leans forward against
the ornate table. “I’m still everyone’s prince, just so we’re clear,” he
groans, letting his thighs part.
Arashi lets his hand slide down, cupping Mika through his robes, eyes locked on
Izumi and Leo. “They’re quite pretty together, aren’t they, amaka?” he whispers
back.
“Nn, real pretty,” Mika murmurs, exhaling a sigh through his nose as he arches
against Arashi’s touch, digging long nails into Arashi’s shoulders as he
nestles further into his lap.
“Yes, yes, you’re everyone’s prince,” Izumi murmurs, shoving his thumb past
Leo’s lips to drag it more firmly over his tongue. Ah, there’s no helping it
now, not when he’s this hard, and Leo’s so willing. “Arashi,” he mutters,
reaching out his other hand, wiggling his fingers. “Oil, please, share with
me.”
Arashi’s mind is slowed by wine for a moment, but then his hand drops to his
belt, pulling out a bag with several small vials of oil. Then he leans to the
side, and seizes Izumi’s fingers in his mouth, dragging his tongue over them in
a slow, hot curl before pulling back with a wink, passing over a vial. “At
least take off some of his clothes. We want a real show.”
This is starting to feel real to Leo, and he shivers, unbearably hard in his
trousers, hands curling in the tablecloth. He looks up, and finds himself
meeting Tsukasa’s eyes, which somehow only makes him harder. “Will you respect
your prince less after this, boy?”
Tsukasa’s mouth is dry, and his tongue doesn’t work for a moment as he exhales
a strangled, hungry sound. “N…no,” he finally manages, shivering down to his
toes. “Absolutely not.”
“See? Nothing to worry about,” Izumi teases, even though his own cheeks are
flushed now, and he grabs at Leo with one hand that’s now nicely sticky
compared to the other. “Let’s see—first things first—“ He tugs Leo’s shirt up
and over his head, and fumbles with his belt. “Don’t worry, Milord,” he hums,
dropping the heavy leather with a clunk. He abruptly pushes a few glasses and
plates out of the way on the table, and then scoops Leo up, tossing him down
onto the table, flat on his back, all the better to divest him of his boots.
“Your bastard page will take excellent care of you.”
Leo yanks at his own laces, getting them open with a whine and shoving them
down, getting them at least twisted around his ankles before he reaches up to
grab at Izumi, eyes glazed, face hot. “Everyone’s looking at me,” he breathes,
cheeks red with the embarrassment of it, bringing up a hand to cover himself.
Some of the guests are more polite than others, but that just means they’re
pretending to look away whenever he catches their eyes. Arashi and Tsukasa, on
the other hand, stare right back at him, and it makes him shiver and squirm.
“This is...they’re looking at me, I can’t...”
“Mnn, you can, I told you, I’m taking care of you.” Izumi yanks Leo’s breeches
off the rest of the way, leaving them on the floor before he presses up between
his spread thighs, leaning over him with his mouth hot on his throat. “Don’t
hide, you’re so lovely,” he breathes, fumbling to uncork one of the vials of
oil. It tips entirely over his fingers, which is good enough for now, when he
immediately reaches down with those slick fingers to drag them over that tight
little hole. “I’ll make you feel so good you can’t think about anything else,”
Izumi lowly promises, biting down on a groan when he slides one finger home,
and then a second, not waiting, too eager to feel the sweet, hot clench of Leo
again when he knows just how to touch.
Leo’s eyes roll back into his head, and he cries out, not bothering to smother
his exclamation when Izumi is laying him out as if it’s an exhibition, as if
it’s good for all these fine nobles to see their prince squealing with a finger
up his arse. “Don’t make me wait,” he pleads, feeling his cock so hard it drips
all over his belly in a steady trickle. “I’ll--die if you don’t put it in,
teach me the shape again, it’s meant to be in me, my love--”
Shu discreetly pulls out a little notebook into his lap, taking notes of things
to say that are undeniably arousing.
“Shh, shh, let me play with you a little, you’re so…” Izumi’s voice catches up
in his throat as he leans back, rocking onto his heels, letting all of those
eyes roam over Leo without his own body obscuring him for a moment. His fingers
slide in deep, curling back slowly, stroking deliberately, and he licks his
lips, eyes lidded as he watches the way Leo moves, the way his thighs tremble.
“Perfect,” he breathes, smoothing his other hand down the inside of one of
Leo’s thighs, taking his time with fucking him with just his fingers. He’s not
as drunk as he let on—which is new, considering he’s always been a lightweight,
and vaguely annoying, but he’ll fake it all he wants if it gets results like
this. “Somehow…I think you’ve gotten a few new freckles. How, it’s still
winter.”
“Out in the Sandlands,” Leo breathes, clutching at the table, winding up with a
hand on Tsukasa’s wrist by accident and just letting it be, nails digging into
the skin. “L-looking for you, ahh, bastard page, you’re being so awful to your
prince, showing me to all these p-people...hnn...”
But it feels good. The fingers inside him know him better than he knows
himself, opening him like something that’s been gift-wrapped just for Izumi,
making him shudder and squirm, and the eyes on him make him arch, chest
thrusting into the air as if begging to be touched.
Tsukasa’s breath hitches loudly, and he reaches over compulsively, unable to
help himself. Before his fingers can close around one of Leo’s perfect, pink
nipples, however, Izumi lunges forward with a sharp hiss, teeth bared, eyes
blazing, and Tsukasa bolts backwards, dislodging Leo’s hold on his wrist and
scooting his chair back several paces. 
“Mine,” Izumi lowly, dangerously warns, his hand pulling free to yank at his
own laces. His cock is so hard he can barely think, and it rubs against the
inside of Leo’s thigh, hot and dripping as he presses Leo down against the
table with his own weight, sucking on the side of his neck, biting with every
intention of leaving bruises that he can savor. “Mine, you’re mine,”he pants
out, reaching down to guide his cock to that slick hole, and the dripping head
of it is the next thing Leo feels before he shoves in, hard and deep, filling
him in one long thrust.
Leo doesn’t even try to smother this cry, head rolling back, mouth open as he
shouts. Makoto breathes out a spell, and the doors seal against sound along
with the magic seals already in place (by far stronger and more skilled wizards
than himself). “N-no one can hear,” he says softly, eyes locked on where
Izumi’s gorgeous cock slides into his future king’s tight hole. It would be
easy, he thinks suddenly, to walk up behind Izumi, slide deep into him while
this is happening--
No. This isn’t for him. One look at Leo’s face is enough to tell Makoto that.
Leo keens low in his throat, tears welling in his eyes with the stretch of it,
and the sheer stretch of him around Izumi’s perfect thick cock. His thighs
tremble, and he struggles to spread them wider, grabbing at Izumi, nails
dragging down his back. “Where you belong,” he groans.
“You remember now? How it fits inside of you?” Izumi rasps, leaning back enough
to grab for Leo’s legs, hiking them up and urging them to drape over his
shoulders. It’s much easier to fuck Leo like this, especially when his hands
drag up to grab him by the waist, pulling him into each thrust when he shoves
in deep. As far as he’s concerned, no one else is in this damned room—it’s just
him and Leo, with Leo laid out like a damned banquet on the table, flushed and
trembling with his hair mussed and splayed out across the tablecloth. “You
look,” he grunts, grinding in harder, his breath hiccuping when he feels the
way Leo arches, starting from that tight squeeze inside, “l-like you remember.”
“That,” Mika hushedly insists, biting at Arashi’s earlobe. “That’s what I mean
when I tell y’t’break me in half.”
“I get it now,” Arashi whispers, letting his hand delve under Mika’s robes to
cup and stroke him, rubbing a thumb over the head to smear the sticky fluid
dripping from the slit. “Rub down on me again, amaka, you feel so good.”
Leo’s chest convulses in a sob, toes curling in the air. “Harder,” he groans,
rocking down against Izumi’s cock, desperate for every centimeter, needing to
be filled and taken and fucked in front of everyone he cares about. “You’re so-
-ahh, my love, you’re so--thick, it’s so--”
He wraps his arms around Izumi’s neck, trying to urge him in deeper, grabbing
Izumi in a filthy kiss, tongue lashing against Izumi’s lip, teeth grazing.
Izumi’s hands fist against the table as he gives into Leo’s pull, shoving his
tongue into his mouth, coaxing out Leo’s until he can suck on it when he
thrusts in hard, deliberately grinding in to make sure he’s pressing just right
when he does. “Good, yeah?” he gasps, drawing back from Leo’s mouth with a
flick of his tongue, snapping the sticky strand attaching their mouths. He
can’t help himself—he has to pinch one of Leo’s nipples, drawing out the gentle
pull with a long thrust of his hips that makes their skin slap together
obscenely. “Should I start showing them what really gets you off, Milord?
You’ve always liked the lewd things I tell you in private, but…”
“Do it,” Mika catcalls, grinning with a little hitch of breath as he squirms
back into Arashi’s lap, sighing when Arashi’s fingers stroke and rub along his
cock. “Nnn…kara, you can put it in,” he lowly murmurs, letting his head loll
back against Arashi’s shoulder. “I don’t miiind.”
Arashi grins, rucking up Mika’s robes in the back, leaning in to whisper,
“Let’s be quiet, I want to hear what gets our prince off so...ahh, amaka,
you’re not wearing underwear or even breeches, how naughty...”
He works himself out of his breeches, dumping out what’s left of another of his
oil vials, not even bothering with preparation as he guides it into Mika’s
hole, feeling it welcome him in as if he should always be there as he lets out
a long sigh.
“Do it,” Leo groans, knowing full well that he’s laid out like an offering,
mind stolen when Izumi yanks on his nipple like that. “L-let them know, I--
I don’t care, just make me come, I’m so hard, my love, it hurts--”
Mika arches back with a low, satisfied purr, settling back with another,
rumbling little noise when he sinks down until it looks as if he’s simply
sitting in Arashi’s lap, as per usual. “That’s so nice,” he murmurs, eyes
fluttering, squirming just enough to splay his legs wider, his lips parted.
Izumi’s mouth curls, his smile decidedly wicked as he twists on that same
nipple, drawing out the pull with a long, deliberate suck on the side of Leo’s
neck. “You don’t care? Ahh…good, then I can make sure they all see how much you
love being bred like a mare in heat,” he groans, their hips slapping together
loudly as he shoves Leo down against the table. “You must have been dying after
all this time, needing me to show up and breed you like this—“
Mika swallows a little too loudly, and idly clamps a hand over his own mouth to
keep back the curse that escapes when his body reflexively clenches down hard.
“Careful, sweet,” Arashi breathes, nipping at the lobe of Mika’s ear. “Be sweet
to it, it’s not made of wood. Isn’t that nice, it fits so right in you.”
Shu’s hand is shaky on his pen, and he only manages to jot out a few notes
before he has to reach for his wine, tipping a hefty mouthful into his throat
to steady his nerves.
Leo nods frantically, spilling over his stomach at the familiar, perfectly
sinful words that always go straight to his belly, making him burn and thrash
on Izumi’s cock. “Perfect,” he whimpers, shivering and rocking down as much as
he can, feeling sweat drip down his neck. “Give me an heir, my stallion--nnh, I
try to do it alone but it never feels like you--”
Izumi’s laugh is breathless, low and throaty as he grinds in with a harsh pant.
“D-don’t worry, love—I know you’ve been waiting so long, it’s got to take this
time, I—“
Wringing Leo dry and leaving him writhing and squirming for even longer sounds
like a delightful idea, but his body has other plans when he spares one glance
down at Leo, at his face slack with pleasure, sweaty and sticky and mussed and
looking nothing like how a respectable heir to the throne should. He groans
helplessly, his fingers bunching the tablecloth as he thrusts in hard, his cock
pulsing and twitching as it empties inside. “There,” he pants out, dragging a
shaky hand down through the mess on Leo’s stomach before he gently presses
down. “Maybe…ah, maybe I should do it again, just to make sure I’ve got an heir
in here…”
“I don’t want to think the snake is sexy,” Mika softly groans against Arashi’s
neck, pawing at one of his hands, trying to relax even when he’s now a shivery,
much more aroused mess. “This isn’t faiiir.”
Tsukasa, abruptly, forces himself to his feet, no matter how he wobbles. “Good
night,” he dazedly says, snatching up his coat to leave.
“Tell her I said hi,” Leo calls with a slow, delicious smile, stretching out
like a cat, nuzzling up against Izumi’s hair. “Hnnn, Izumiiii, my love, it
hurts, there’s too much in me...”
Arashi grunts into Mika’s neck, grabbing at his hips, moving him just the
slightest bit, rocking into him in the least obvious way he can, breath hot
against his neck. “You’re so lovely, my darling, aren’t they pretty? You want
me to take you like that later, hmm?”
“Too much? But I don’t wanna take it out yet…” Izumi complains, stealing a kiss
from Leo’s mouth before he slowly rocks backward, collapsing back into his seat
and dragging Leo down into his lap with him without pulling out in the
slightest. His hands pet down Leo’s back, up through his sweaty hair, and he
kisses over his bare shoulder. “Mmn, just stay like this for a little while,
love, then I’ll take you to bed, you feel so good…”
Mika swallows hard, shutting his eyes as his head fall forward, his breath
coming faster no matter how he tries not to look too obvious. Easier said than
done, when his cheeks are already tinting red. “Mm..mmhm, y’can do it to me
whenever you want,” he whispers, helplessly grabbing for the arm of the chair
to keep himself braced up and off of Arashi’s cock, just a little, enough that
Arashi has room to actually move and rock up into him.
A scrape of a chair’s leg alerts Shu, and he looks over, face flushing harder
than it had looking at Leo and Izumi’s entire display, watching Mika squirming
in an obfuscatory fashion on Arashi’s lap, both of them gasping and rocking.
“Mika, control yourself,” he hisses, averting his eyes when he remembers to.
“Let him live, Shu,” Arashi murmurs lazily, sliding deep inside Mika, just
barely managing to avoid groaning. “We’re all having a good time, aren’t we?
Ahh...that’s good, darling, that’s so good--”
Leo whines, squeezing down around Izumi’s cock, and yanks on a strand of too-
short hair. “Don’t pull out,” he orders. “Get hard again. Do me again. And
again. And when you get sick of my arse, feed it to me.”
“Give me literally…two seconds,” Izumi breathes, his head falling back when Leo
squeezes down on him like that. “Ahh…gods, Leo, you feel perfect.” His hands
paw down to grip his ass, giving it a slow, firm squeeze before a finger
teasingly drags around where they’re still connected, feeling how stretched
Leo’s hole is. “I’m not getting sick of this anytime soon, fair warning. Sure
you don’t want to point me towards your room?”
Mika whimpers in spite of himself, his body squeezing down with a long, slow
spasm of muscle when Arashi slides in so deeply that his eyes cross. “S…sorry,
Master, I…” He licks at his lips, his fingers digging hard into the arm of the
chair. “I’m not sorry,” he finishes with a breathless little laugh.
“Arashi…feels s-so good…”
“Bend him over the table,” Izumi languidly suggests, leaning back to get a
better look when he can’t quite help himself. “Damn, Arashi. How does it all
fit in there?”
“My darling boy here is just so hungry for it,” Arashi murmurs, pressing a kiss
to Mika’s jaw, hands languid on his hips. “Want to show off, amaka? Take our
turn? Or just let them keep squirming and wishing they could see how beautiful
you are under these robes?”
Leo ignores them, leaning up to whisper in Izumi’s ear, “We’re not leaving, you
haven’t filled me nearly enough. I want to be so full of you that I feel sick,
you hear me? Do your duty to your prince, I’m definitely not properly bred
yet...”
Izumi swears he feels all of the blood rushing to his cock in a second. “You’re
gonna regret saying that,” he groans, his nails biting into Leo’s hips when he
shoves up, letting Leo feel exactly how hard he is, his attention abruptly and
very firmly on Leo. “Don’t princes need to walk in the morning? Too bad, if you
ask me…”
“You…can d-do whatever y’want to me, kara…”Mika breathes, even though his
fingers are already prying apart the fastenings of his robes, letting them
slink down his shoulders. He’s completely naked underneath, of course, and his
fingers slide down his own chest to absent twist a nipple, making him shiver
visibly as he squirms on Arashi’s cock. “Nnn, Master…and…ahh..what was your
name, whatever…y’can watch, if you want…”
“Sorry I’m here,” Makoto whispers, hands folded in his lap so tightly his
knuckles creak. Everyone else here seems to have some kind of relationship to
each other, or at least somewhere to go, but he just bites his lip, trying not
to watch too obviously.
That’s the last straw for Arashi, and he stands, urging Mika up over the table,
replacing Mika’s fingers with his own, biting at his shoulder, sliding back
hard so he can drive in fast. “No need to apologize, my darling Mika loves
being watched--don’t you amaka? Tell the nice boy how it makes you feel.”
“We’ve both been celibate for too long,” Shu admits, with a wry twist of his
mouth as he reaches into his own robes, still a little surprised to find
nothing more than cloth. “If anyone understands, it’s another wizard.”
Leo bites Izumi’s ear, hard, and squeezes down, eyes rolling back in his head.
“You’ll have to carry me everywhere tomorrow,” he breathes, then winces when
it’s too much, even as he tries to squirm down harder. “And j-just tell
everyone you had me too thoroughly.”
Mika’s back arches, his painted nails scraping over the tablecloth as he arches
his back with a gasping, throaty moan. It’s a much nicer angle, letting Arashi
slide up into him just right, and he stretches up onto his tiptoes when his
toes curl and flex so hard that it almost makes his calves cramp. “I….ahh…I l-
look best like this, I think,” he groans, letting his head thunk down against
the table, his hair spilling free of its ribbon when he thrashes.
“Karaa…y…y’feel so big in me, do it harderrr…nnn, come here,” he breathes,
crooking a finger towards Makoto. “I’ll make you feel good.”
Izumi breathes hard, his hands closing firmly around Leo’s hips to pull him
down onto his cock as far as he can. Listening to the noises Leo is making is
more than enough already—the breathless words coming from Mika, more throaty
and accented the longer he’s fucked, another level of overstimulation that
makes his cock twitch where it’s buried, rubbing up inside of Leo hard and
deep. “Everyone already knows,” he breathes against Leo’s ear, rocking up into
him slowly, his fingers wandering up to slowly play with his nipples. “The
prince is just his page’s pretty little mare. I don’t have to explain anything
to anyone.”
Leo shakes his head, too overstimulated to talk, just squeaking every time
Izumi swells and thrusts into him, tears spilling from his eyes as his cock
hardens between them. One of his hands reaches down to press against the flat
plane of his belly, trying to imagine Izumi being able to come in him enough
that he really could feel it from the outside, and he shudders so hard he
nearly comes again just at that thought. “M-maybe give me a whole litter,
then,” he groans, thighs trembling from being so tense. “Gods, I--I just--keep
me on a lead, I--” He doesn’t even know what he’s begging for anymore, wanting
to play along but so aroused he’s lightheaded.
Makoto stumbles out of his chair, as if Mika’s beckoning was more like magic
than a suggestion, walking slowly towards him. The prominent shape at the front
of his robes makes him flush, but if Mika is offering... “Y-you don’t have,
to,” he whispers, reaching out and touching that curling hair, eyes on where
Arashi thrusts in deep, riding into him like he was born to do it. “Ah,
Captain, please don’t kill--”
“Mika’s an adult and he makes his own choices,” Arashi murmurs, mouth fixed to
Mika’s neck, cock thrusting in deep. “Ahh, Izumi, look how nice it fits in
here, and he’s still begging for more, isn’t he wonderful?”
Mika’s eyes roll back for a moment, his lips parting for his tongue to flick
out and wet them. “J…jus’ like that, kara,” he groans, his hand smacking down
against the table as he grabs helplessly for Makoto, his mismatched eyes
heavily lidded and dark. “I bet,” he breathes, grabbing for Makoto’s hand to
bring it to his mouth, his tongue flicking out to drag over the tip of his
thumb like it would something far less innocent, “I can make y’come just like
this. But, ah…you’ve never had a mouth on your dick before, have you? Maybe I
should spoil you…”
“Gods,” Izumi mutters, having to shut his own eyes for a moment. Mika moves
like he knows what he’s doing, and it inspires a few thoughts—I’d pay for that,
so help me—that he’s not exactly proud of having about Arashi’s lover…even if
they make his dick harder. “I bet you could take more, too,” he murmurs into
Leo’s ear, idly dragging his hand down to press over Leo’s, his own breath
stuttering as he imagines what he’s about to say out loud. His cock throbs,
already threatening to spill again, and his hips jerk up too-roughly when Leo
squirms on him. “Two cocks in you—I could feel them right here so easily. With
two of us coming in you…you’d be too full, but you’d like that, huh? And we
could stay in you so it won’t drip out, and you could just feel how slick and
messy you are for hours…”
“Then grow another,” Leo groans helplessly, nails digging into Izumi’s
shoulders. “B-because it’s only you, it’s only ever you--h-how else are you
going to know it’s your heir, hmmm?”
Makoto fumbles in his robes, helpless to refuse when Mika says something like
that, pulling his laces free to yank his cock out properly. “Please,” he begs,
looking from Mika to Arashi and back again. “Even if--if you just touch it a
little, that’s--you’re so attractive, my gods--”
“Go on, amaka,” Arashi murmurs, grabbing Mika’s hand and moving it to the front
of Makoto’s robe. “You want it in your mouth? You’re always so hungry to have
it in your belly, I never quite get to let you have a taste lately...”
“Yeah, you’re bad, teasin’ me all the time,” Mika pouts, even as he wriggles
back encouragingly, the movement wringing a sigh from his lips. Arashi’s cock
fits so perfectly in him that the longer it’s there, the better, even when he
starts to ache…but he likes that, too, and he feels his own cock twitch when he
shifts. His fingers untie and unlace swiftly, even as they tremble, and he’s
pleasantly surprised with how nice Makoto’s cock actually is. “Good,” he
mutters, twisting a little when his fingers curl around it, squeezing, stroking
slowly, teasing a droplet of precome to the tip. “Nnn, you can pet my hair
while I suck it, I like that. Mm, Master, I’ve got another hand, if you
wanna…or will the Demon King get mad at me?”
Arashi, how do you handle that all the time? Izumi’s going to have to ask
later, but right now—“The real heirs will have silver hair, obviously,” he
lowly teases, but his cock is too hard to think beyond getting off now, and he
thrusts up hard with a grunt, pushing Leo back against the side of the table
again. “Doesn’t matter, I’ll come in you so much it feels like there are two of
me,” he mutters, squeezing handfuls of Leo’s ass as he fucks in, content to
just use him for a few more thrusts before he comes with a ragged gasp, face
buried into Leo’s neck. Even with his cock buried in as far as it is, he can
feel some of the mess drip down over his thighs—too much, after the first time,
he supposes—and he gives one of Leo’s nipples a pinch. “Tighten up, or it’s
gonna go everywhere, Milord.”
“Rude,” Leo whines, but that doesn’t stop his body from seizing up, trembling
from head to toe when he comes again for what feels like a year, clenching and
spasming around Izumi’s cock. He feels full now, as if Izumi’s pumped in far
more than what a normal man could come, and that makes him pant shallowly,
desperate for air. “Th-there’s so much, I just--ahh, it’s cramping, I’m--sore,
it’s so--don’t you dare pull out--”
Shu waves Mika’s hand away, but gives him a small smile. “I’ve waited and
watched for six years, I’ll be fine. Have fun.”
Makoto doesn’t even pretend at self-control anymore, not when Mika has such a
lovely hand and lovelier mouth trying to get at him. He ruts forward, the head
of his cock bumping against Mika’s lip, and bites his own fist, then drops his
hand, tangling in Mika’s hair as he’d been instructed. “You’re very talented,”
he says softly, cock so hard it hurts.
“Mm, isn’t he?” Arashi moans, kissing Mika’s neck again, reaching around to rub
at his chest. “We could make quite a lot if we rented him out. Don’t you think
so, Izumi?”
Izumi’s mind is already in the process of shutting entirely off, but Arashi’s
words abruptly drag him back. He groans, raking sweaty hair out of his face,
his hips involuntarily jerking up into Leo for a last time. “You said it first,
not me,” he breathes, his head tilting back so he can get a good look at where
Arashi’s cock sinks deep into Mika’s body, his fingers slowly petting down
Leo’s sweat-slick back.
Mika’s voice is muffled around Makoto’s cock when his lips part to let it slide
into his mouth. It’s thicker than it looks, even, and his jaw already aches,
but his tongue quickly goes to work, rubbing and curling against the underside
of it as he sucks Makoto down. The hand in his hair makes him shiver, but
Arashi’s fingers, warm and calloused, dragging against his nipples, make him
arch, and he chokes on a groan, his eyes sliding shut as he squirms forward,
just enough to get all of Makoto’s cock down his throat. He swallows visibly,
his cheeks ruddy, but Mika barely even seems fazed by it, even when Arashi’s
thrusting hips shove his face forward, and a muffled whine squeaks out.
“…Gods,” Izumi mutters, wiping a hand down his face. “And I thought I was good
at that. Put to shame. Ah, here, Leo, more wine?” There’s a half-full goblet
within reach, why not.
Makoto loves the idea of being able to last--but Arashi and Mika have been
going for quite a while, and it seems impossible that he’ll manage to get
through this without embarrassing himself. It takes fewer than three thrusts
against Mika’s sweet hot mouth before he spills, remembering belatedly to try
and pull out, and only managing to come both in his mouth and on his face. “S-
sorry, sorry, I didn’t feel it coming, I--”
“Don’t apologize, he likes it, right, amaka?” Arashi breathes in Mika’s ear,
feeling himself close as hell to the edge, wanting to make dead sure that Mika
is taken care of before he lets go. “You got a nice mouthful, right, darling?
Why don’t you show us how much you liked it, be a good boy and show us your
pretty face when you come.”
Mika barely coughs, even as his head rolls to the side, the sticky mess
dripping off of his lips and cheeks before he wipes it off with trembling
fingers. “Y’taste good,” he pants out in-between sucking his fingers clean, his
eyes rolling back when his cock throbs just from Arashi’s words alone. He
whimpers, pawing a hand back helplessly, trying to grab for whatever part of
Arashi that he can reach. “I…nnn…kara, help, I…”
It’s not like he needs help, not in the slightest, not when this is the only
time he likes having eyes on him—but it feels good, being pampered and taken
care of and getting everything he wants. “P…please…come in me, then I’ll…”
“Shh, shh, I’ve got you.”
Arashi never appreciates his stamina more than now, when he can use it to take
care of Mika, to touch and stroke in the kindest, gentlest of ways, rocking
deep into him with sweet kisses. “That’s a good boy, you’re so good, you’re all
mine--”
He slams in deep, giving in and letting himself finally go, spilling deep, deep
inside Mika as he groans, holding him by the hips, one hand coming down to curl
around his cock, stroking quickly. “Do it for me, show everyone how pretty you
are.”
Mika’s lost in an instant, before Arashi even gets a hand on his cock. It’s how
it feels when Arashi comes in him more than anything, the way his cock throbs
when it’s buried so deeply inside, and he whimpers, lips parted and trembling,
eyes squeeze tightly shut as he comes, spilling helplessly over Arashi’s
fingers. “’s good, so good,” he groans, his back arched and trembling as he
slumps over the table, overstimulated and very sated. It’s one of the last
things he manages to say in the common tongue, with everything that follows, a
content, mumbling little praise.
“…How do you keep up with that on a regular basis?” Izumi can’t help but ask
Arashi, his eyebrows arched high. “Damn.”
“It was easier when he was forced to be celibate,” Arashi says wearily, but
contentedly, flopping back in the chair and dragging Mika onto his lap. “But I
don’t mind a little hard work now and then, eh, darling?”
Shu shuts his notebook, then nods to the attended audience and stands, striding
out of the room without another word, letting the door close firmly behind him.
Leo droops over Izumi’s shoulders, grimacing. “I’m kinda afraid of what’ll
happen when you pull out,” he admits. “Guess you’ll have to stay in forever.”
“There’s spells to make it hard,” Mika cheerfully, but dazedly manages to say
after another moment of breathing hard. “’s good. I’m good at it.”
“Good luck, Captain,” Izumi says with a laugh, and gives Leo’s ass a gentle
pinch. “We’re not sleeping in here. I want a real bed, I haven’t had one
in…gods, I don’t even know how long.” Izumi’s eyes lid, and he lets them slide
over to Makoto. “Mm, Yuukun—how’s life as a free man treating you? Fun, right?”
“Better than I expected,” Makoto says shakily, sliding into a chair next to
Izumi. “Wow. At the Academy we used to joke about how they’d always overplay
the danger of sex lurking around every corner, but so far, it seems pretty
accurate.”
Leo nuzzles under Izumi’s chin. “I think that’s just when this bastard page is
around. Whenever he’s gone, I do not find this to be the case.”
“Maybe you should stop being so damned cute when I’m around then,” Izumi
grouses, grabbing Leo’s face and kissing him hard. “Right, I can swaddle you
like a child and carry you back to your chambers, but you have to get off of me
first, and let me at least put my pants on.”
Leo harrumphs at him, then tries to move, stops, and shrugs. “You can move me
around. My legs aren’t working.”
“Oookay, up we go, Milord.” Izumi can’t resist teasing, just a little, when Leo
is about as floppy and useless as he’s ever been, and he gingerly helps him off
of his cock and onto the table instead. “There we are. Ah, where did I even
throw my pants…”
“Over there,” Mika offers on a yawn, fluttering a hand to the far left of
Izumi’s chair, snuggling up comfortable into Arashi’s chest.
“Excellent, these are coming right off again once I’m behind a closed door,”
Izumi mutters, yanking them up and lacing them in a hurry before he grabs up
Leo’s clothing as well. Dressing him is a joke right now—draping him in
clothing once Izumi picks him up into a neat princess carry is much better
idea. “Point the way, Milord,” Izumi hums, stooping once to snatch up Leo’s
boots as well and set them on top of him. “The rest of you have a lovely
evening.”
“Bye bye,” Leo sing-songs, curled up and nestled into Izumi’s chest. “Ah,
Izumi, I’m leaking everywhere. Yuck.”
“Mmhm, you’re gross,” Izumi says, unfazed, kicking the door shut behind them.
“Let’s bathe before bed, then we’ll both wake up feeling less like we want to
die.”
“Don’t care, let me drip for a year. Better yet, shove one of those glass plugs
in me to keep it inside. Or just keep your cock in me for a year, I’ll--”
“Ah, you must be Lord Izumi!” Tsumugi bows, though his cheeks flush suddenly
hot at the sight of Leoen deshabile. “Ah....er....w-welcome?”
“Hush, Milord,” Izumi mutters, hastily covering Leo’s face with his shirt.
Maybe that’ll shut him up, at least. “Ah. Hello. Yes, I’m…Lord Izumi. I’m
afraid I missed your name.”
“Ah, sorry, that’s definitely my fault, it’s Tsumugi. A pleasure to meet you,
I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”
Leo’s voice is muffled against the shirt. “You made me this way!”
“Hopefully only good things,” Izumi grinds out, pointedly ignoring Leo. “Can I
trouble you to be pointed in the direction of the baths? Milord here has made
quite a mess of himself over dinner and I’d like to take care of him.”
“It’s true, I’m covered in Lord Izumi’s sauce!”
Tsumugi smiles blandly and points. “I can have a boy show you the way, if you’d
like. Hajime,” he calls, looking around.
“I’m going to beat you over the head,” Izumi hisses into Leo’s ear. “Thank you,
I don’t need a guide,” he says to Tsumugi, turning in the direction he pointed
and giving Leo’s ass a pinch as he strides briskly down the hall. “Is this the
sort of beast you’ve become in my absence?” Sniffing out water, at least, is an
easy task, especially when he can hear it when he’s half-way down the hall.
“Honestly, Leo, even if you’re drunk, I don’t know that man, it’s for the best
if you—“
He nudges the door open with his foot, fully intending to continue scolding Leo
when the sight that greets him in the bathing room makes him nearly bolt out of
the room again. “Milady—my apologies, I—“
Complete with enormous dress, skirts, and corset tossed across the floor, the
lady in question scowls, long red hair bound up and clipped to the back of her
head to avoid getting it wet. “Save it,” she snaps, hauling herself from the
tub—to reveal that it isn’t a woman at all, but instead, a boy in his late
teens…with a face certainly lovely enough to make him easily mistaken as a
woman any day of the week. “I was just leaving. You look like a mess, Your
Highness,” he curtly says, hopping out of the water daintily and wrapping
himself in a huge, fluffy robe, letting his hair loose, sending it in a rolling
cascade of red—and strangely enough, white, now that Izumi looks beyond the
pretty face—all down his back.
“Oh, I know you!” Leo wriggles out of Izumi’s arms, flapping his way into the
bathtub and grinning up. “You’re Natsume, right? We met when I did my tour of
the Academy a couple years ago--aren’t you the youngest Nightcloak ever?”
“Of course you’re a wizard,” Izumi mutters, dropping all of their clothes and
just burying his face into his hands for a moment. All wizards are fucking
gorgeous, why, and on top of it, this one is confusing the hell out of his
dick, looking so much like a woman that it creates the mixed, horrific reaction
of wanting to kiss his way into her (his) pants, and simultaneously makes him
want to bolt out of the room in terror. He sucks in a calming breath, kicks off
his breeches, and just pulls himself into the bathtub, dunking himself
immediately underneath the water.
Natsume stares at Izumi for a moment before he shrugs, tying his robe shut.
“Yes, I’m brilliant,” he says unrepentantly, scooping up his discarded dress
and other various layers from the floor. “Not that you’d know it, what with how
I’m stuck here with that idiot Tsumugi. Ugh, and now Rei left again, I’m
gonna…” He grinds his teeth together.
Leo beams. “I like you. You’re very rude, right? That’s good, and honest. Sorry
about this bastard page, he likes men and women, you’re probably confusing his
penis.”
“Uh…huh.” Natsume stares down at them both through lidded eyes, waiting for
Izumi to come up for air before he says, flatly, “I’m the lady of the house.
You’ll need to get over it.”
“I am not going to touch you, ever,” Izumi senselessly babbles, hands up in a
defensive gesture. “I swear, I promise.”
“…Whatever.” Natsume flips his hair back over his shoulder, and as he strides
towards the door, Izumi swears he looks exactly like a woman from behind, down
to the way he walks. “Good night.”
The door shuts, and Izumi groans, burying his face into his hands. “Kill me.
Holy shit, kill me. She—fuck, he—fuck. How do people look like that?”
“Do you need to put it back in?” Leo asks curiously, floating over to Izumi,
looping his arms around Izumi’s neck. “I dunno how it can be so hard so soon,
but wow. I can just kinda sit on it forever, I guess?”
“No, I don’t want to reward this kind of behavior,” Izumi insistently says,
even though he grabs for Leo, squeezing him, shoving his face into Leo’s hair
to breathe deep. “It’s just like that, it’s always been like that,” he bemoans.
“I’m trying to train it not to be, especially with women, but gods…”
“Why is it girls you’re so afraid of, love?” Leo cups the water with one hand,
tipping it over Izumi’s hair, washing his back gently. “Would you be afraid if
I put on skirts, like we used to joke?”
“No, gods, that’s…it’s you, that’s not the same,” Izumi mutters, raking his
fingers back through his hair as he leans forward. “I’m never touching a woman
again. Gods, I know it sounds laughable when I say it out loud, but…” He
grimaces, and lifts a finger, tapping his ear. “Remember how I used to fuck my
way through the capital with every high-born lady, and wait until their
husbands challenged me to duels so I could notch their ears like Northern cats?
Small wonder, that they hate me more than anyone. They were easy picks for your
uncle.”
“Ahhh,” Leo says softly. He tips more water over Izumi’s head, then grabs a
washcloth, rubbing it over his back. “Why not just confine yourself to
prostitutes, then, if you’re trying to avoid women with husbands? You can bed
women, I won’t hate you, you know.”
“I know. I just…” Izumi hesitates, then sighs, resting his chin on his knees to
let Leo soothe way his lingering nervousness. “I have bastards. I never wanted
that. Children at all, honestly, the idea scares the shit out of me. And one of
the women that I bedded, she…she died, giving birth to it, and I…” He waves a
hand, stressed all over again. “It’s hard not to think I deserved to die,
hearing that. Gods, I never wanted that to happen. But I didn’t think about
that then, so I might as well now. No more women, period.”
Leo frowns, and shoves Izumi against the wall of the tub, glaring at him.
“You’ve never raped anyone, right?”
Izumi blinks back at him, eyes wide. “No. Absolutely not, never.”
“Then it was their choice, right? I mean, you’re ill-mannered, but sleeping
with someone else’s wife is an honor crime, it’s not a legal crime, or you’d be
in prison. If they wanted to sleep with you...” Leo shrugs. “Then they know
they might have bastards.” He pauses, then adds, “We should find them. They’re
probably quite powerful, since they’re quarter-bloods.”
“That doesn’t absolve me of anything,” Izumi mutters, tilting his head back. He
doesn’t argue further, though, and instead, heaves a sigh. “They won’t be hard
to find,” he says. “I know the houses. But even if I didn’t—silver hair, the
lot of them. And all girls.”
“Hm, I wonder why.” Leo shrugs. “They could be very useful as Healers, if
they’re anything like you. Or poison testers, at least. Mm, let me know the
Houses when all of this madness is over, we’ll find them and pull them from
their families. I don’t doubt that they’ll have a rather terrible life due to
parentage, eh? I’ll leave that to you, you can consider that your official
penance.”
“…I was already planning on…doing something, I don’t know, taking them to the
North, if nothing else,” Izumi quietly admits, shrugging. “As soon as I could,
obviously. You know, because once I kill the rest of their House, I might as
well take care of them.”
“Mm, yes, might as well,” Leo agrees, and flops backwards, rinsing out his
hair. “You clean me down there, you messed it up. And be gentle, please.”
“Sit up a bit, then, Milord,” Izumi dryly says, forcing himself upright with a
weary sigh. “I’ll even heal everything, but it might feel odd, heh.”
He grabs up one of the washcloths, rubbing it down Leo’s back first, then
dipping it down to gently clean away what the water already hasn’t. Healing
Leo, at least, is becoming more second nature than anything…or maybe, it’s just
not quite as hard as it used to be to extend it to other people. He supposes he
did heal Arashi’s broken cheekbone earlier without even feeling dizzy. “You
know,” he quietly says, “I would greatly prefer to never touch another man
again, other than you.”
Leo sighs in relief, clinging to the side of the tub, letting the rest of
himself float. “I didn’t realize how much that hurt until it stopped. Mm, you
can’t leave my side anymore, obviously. I wonder why you need women, if I’m
enough man for you? Maybe I’ll get one of those wizards to give me multiple
parts so I can be your lady and your prince, would that do it?”
“That’s…no, don’t do that, I don’t even think that’s a thing they can do, and
it wouldn’t make a difference,” Izumi wryly says, wringing out the cloth and
continuing to stroke down the backs of Leo’s thighs, wiping him clean as much
as he tries to soothe away any little bruises he might have left. He’s not
going to bother fixing Leo’s neck up yet, that’s for him to enjoy until later.
“I’m not touching women again, that’s nonnegotiable. But other men…I…I don’t
know why I’m like this. It’s not something I’ve ever given much thought to,
before now, but now it just irritates me. Like, you’d be right here, and if
Arashi walked in, my first thought would probably be ‘I wonder if I can get him
to kiss me.’ Why, who knows.”
Leo shrugs. “I mean, I’m willing to believe it’s a function of you being a
half-blood if you are. Otherwise, you’re just a bit of an ass, aren’t you? Your
prince should really be enough for you, or you’re going to give him a complex.”
He lets his feet drift down to the floor, sighing as he stretches. “And what’s
wrong with prostitutes, eh?”
“Can we just blame it on me being a half-blood?” Izumi wearily asks. “I
honestly think you’re the most beautiful man alive, I swear I do, I want
nothing more than to stay in your bed, and your bed only. I think I nearly bit
off Tsukasa’s hand when he tried to touch you tonight, if I’m remembering
correctly. I just…”
He flutters an irritated hand, tosses the washcloth aside, and slides up next
to Leo again, knocking his head back against the side of the tub.
“Prostitutes…paying for sex is no good, no part of that appeals. Diseases,
dirtiness, I don’t want any part of it, plus I’ve heard too many stories about
what they go through to feel all right about it. Plus, it’s very cute that you
think I can do that regularly on a soldier’s salary, let alone a page’s
nonexistent one.”
Leo looks into Izumi’s eyes, and flops back, letting his toes rise up through
the surface of the water. “All right, then keep fucking your friends, I trust
them all. But whenever I want you, I’ve got you, yes? That’s what I care about,
wahahaha!”
“You can restrict me more than that,” Izumi insists, grabbing at Leo to hug him
close, burying his face back down into his hair. “But—but obviously, I’m yours
whenever you want me, I’m always yours. I’m not leaving your side again, I’ll
kill anyone that tries to take you from me.”
Leo’s mouth quirks in a sour little smirk. “What restrictions would you like,
then, that make you feel like I’d be satisfied? I just want to have you
whenever I want you, you know. Just because I’ve got to be otherwise celibate
because I’m the prince doesn’t mean you should have to be--and honestly, you’re
a lot to keep up with, you know!”
“I don’t know. Whatever you want. If you wanted me to only be yours, I’d do
it.” Izumi pauses. “I was going to say ‘you don’t have to be celibate, Kasa
wants you to climb him like a tree’, but then I realized I’d kill him, so that
just doesn’t work.”
“A king’s arsehole means something to people, for whatever reason,” Leo says
with a sigh. “And I don’t want any other men but you. I’m taking a big enough
risk by being with you, you know.”
“I know.” Izumi’s eyes lid. “And…I know I’ve said it before, but you being the
prince—that means nothing to me. The big, soft bed means something to me,” he
gently teases, pulling on a strand of Leo’s hair. “But the title means nothing.
If for some reason, all of this goes to hell even more and we can’t pull it
back…I will run away with you and be a commoner with you for the rest of my
life.”
The smile Leo gives Izumi is a bit weary, but not in a physical way. “Sometimes
I think the realm would be better off if I did,” he admits. “Tsukasa is a good
boy. They want to marry him to my sister, so his claim will be very secure.
He’ll probably be a better king than I ever would be, don’t you think?”
“Mm, no.”
“He’s a good kid,” he says. “And he’ll be a good leader…of something that isn’t
a kingdom. To me, he’s too overbearing on some issues, too relenting on
others…I don’t know.” Izumi shrugs. “I don’t think he understands anything
beyond the high echelon noble class. He’s mystified that some nobles have to
make their own breakfast and train their own horses, imagine.”
“But that can be learned, and trained,” Leo says softly. “I didn’t understand
anything other than the high echelon of the noble class until I met you. He’s
served as a page, so he knows how to saddle and groom his horse and someone
else’s, and he knows how to serve, and presumably has gotten lessons on how to
lead.”
Izumi gently swats the side of Leo’s head. “But he doesn’t care. Not in the
same way that you do. He cares when it’s people that are close to him—and
that’s not a bad thing. But you care beyond that, and it’s obvious how much
things pain you. It’s a different sort of leadership, Leo, and Tsukasa, for as
good as he is, lacks the same sort of drive that your own father does. A good
boy, and one I trust, but not one I’d ever trust as king.”
The words should be just so much white noise. Leo doesn’t really know, beyond
the fact that he’s been exhausted for so long, the fact that he’s missed Izumi
for so long, doubted himself for so long, why those words go to his heart and
make him tear up, blinking rapidly to no avail, hot tears splashing down his
face. “I...you really do think I’ll be a good king?”
“Ahh, don’t cry, don’t cry…” Izumi frets, grabbing Leo’s face up in his hands
and dragging his thumbs over his cheeks, firmly trying to rub the tears off of
it. “You idiot—why else would I be here? I mean, you’re lovely and I’m vain,”
he reasons jokingly. “But…I’d never kneel to a man that I didn’t think honestly
deserved that throne. I’ve lowered my head for your father, but I’ve never
taken a proper knee for him, and I won’t ever.” Izumi gently squishes Leo’s
face between his hands. “As far as I’m concerned, you are the king right now.”
“I just thought you loved me,” Leo confesses, wiping at his own face, then
blinking up at Izumi. The tears still won’t stop, and he doesn’t try to stop
them anymore. “I mean...you’ve been mine for so long, I’d do anything for you,
but...” He laughs at himself through the tears, hands resting on Izumi’s
shoulders. “It’s hard to think myself worthy of loyalty like this.”
“The fact I love you is a given, but it has nothing to do with whether or not I
think you’d make a good king.” Izumi shakes his head, sliding his hands up to
muss Leo’s hair. “You’re…you’re just a good man, you know?” It’s embarrassing
to say it that way, but it’s true, so he forces himself to be honest. “Anyone
would die for you. I just happened to do it first, heh. And then I came back,
so I could do it again.”
“Just...you’re never allowed to stay dead,” Leo orders, rubbing at his wet
cheeks. “You can die as many times as you have to as long as you come back to
me after each one. That’s a promise you have to make. And then we need to get
out, because I’m pruning, and that’s not a good look for a king, ha!”
Because he is a king, as little as he wants to be. He’s always known it was
coming, but the time, he fears, is closer than he’d ever imagined.
And if Izumi believes in him, then he could be a worse king.
“I promise. Though…I think I already said before, if someone tries to pull us
apart right now, I’m going to have to kill them.”
Izumi shifts, starting to pull himself from the bath, and pulls Leo up with
him. There’s an extra robe left over, dangling over a chair, and he snatches it
up for Leo once he’s out of the basin, wrapping him up securely. “If you’re
going to start declaring yourself king, you better do it formally,” he quietly
says. “And you better hurry up and let me swear to you, so I can stop being the
oldest page this kingdom has ever seen. It’s getting ridiculous, honestly.”
***** Chapter 22 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
Typically, Shu doesn’t waste his time with classes.
It’s not like Mika goes, either. To be fair, he’s either usually not allowed
to, or there’s simply no point to it. There’s nothing a single teacher in the
Academy can actually teach him, they’ve established that, but it doesn’t stop
him from following at Shu’s heels today, to a guest lecturer that everyone is
apparently dying to see.
It doesn’t take long for even Mika, only recently let out of captivity to cling
to Shu’s robes and generally be considered his pet of some kind, to realize
that this lecturer is special.
Rei, first son of the Sakuma household, a rare Nightcloak wizard, is something
out of legends. The way he manipulates magic and the world around him seems
impossible—there’s none of the strange, scary bursts and bumps along the way
that Mika has come to expect with magic users. Even Shu, a Nightcloak, doesn’t
have this level of control, and it’s mystifying to watch someone with so much
grace, comparable to the Emperor’s favorite, even.
No, beyond it, Mika thinks.
The lecture ends—it was something about tapping into the world’s natural
energies to augment one’s own, whatever, Mika can’t do that, so what’s the
point in understanding it—and half a dozen of the braver wizards dart up to
chat with Rei, gushing their praises, asking for advice. He doesn’t blow them
off, like Mika expects; he’s got a gentle way of being, even if he’s tall and
dark-haired and looks like he should be scary. Mika turns to look up at Shu,
and his eyebrows raise, the look on Shu’s face tell-tale.
If this wasn’t about wizards, Mika would swear it’s the kind of look someone
gives when they want to…well.
“Y’should go talk to him,” he whispers, giving Shu’s arm a little tug. “You’re
the only Nightcloak here.” Then he pauses, and says, because if he doesn’t, no
one will, “You think he’s handsome.” To be fair, Rei is—not that Mika can look
for too long. His eyes hurt.
Shu stiffens, looking down at his books, stacking them neatly. Well, they were
already neat, but he re-stacks them anyway, just in case their visiting
professor happens to look his way. “Don’t be absurd. Wizards don’t think about
things like that. We are ephemeral creatures, not those of base flesh. That you
would even ask is--why, is he looking at me? Did he say something?”
Mika’s eyes nearly roll out of his skull. “Yeah, he’s lookin’ at you. C’mon,
Master, I’ll walk over with you.” He leans in close to Shu, whispering in his
ear, “I bet he smells good…~”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Shu’s voice is too loud this time, the tips of his ears
pink, and he straightens his hair frantically, fussing with the ends. “Is he
looking right now? Is he laughing? Not that I care, of course, it’s just that
there are so few Nightcloaks--”
“You’re moving your hands so much,” Mika says, infinitely amused, and he hops
out of his seat, grabbing Shu by the arm, tugging. “C’mooon, Master. I’m sure
he wants to meet you—“
“Ah, Shu, was it? I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Mika bites down a squawk and dives behind Shu, all of his own bravery gone in
the instant that Rei comes to them, shrugging off the herd of other young
wizards that want to ask him questions about gods know what. He smiles, pulling
off his glasses and tucking them into the pocket of his robes, offering Shu a
surprisingly low bow. “It’s an honor, to meet another Nightcloak in this day
and age.”
Shu stares for a long moment. Rei is stunning, everything Shu has ever heard
about the power and prestige of the Nightcloaks and the Shadowlands demons all
in one, handsome and powerful. He hadn’t expected the kind smile, or the eyes
flickering with warmth. “Of course it is,” he says, when he can’t think of
anything else. He bows in return, letting the Nightcloak speak for him. Yes,
he’s one of the three most powerful wizards in the past century, after all. Of
course Rei wants to meet him.
Then why is his mouth so dry? And more than anything, why is his underwear
plate suddenly so painfully uncomfortable? And what in all the heavens does he
usually do with his hands?
“Would you like to have lunch with me? I’ll admit, with your reputation, I
expect you to shun me,” Rei says with a laugh, tilting his head. Mika peers
around Shu to get a better look, a little bit entranced by the heavy, curling
fall of Rei’s hair, tied into a tail that tumbles over his shoulder, looking so
soft and shiny that it seems unfair for a man to have. “But it’s worth the
risk, I think. I wanted to talk to someone who has been heavily involved in the
Academy for the past few years, I feel so behind.”
“Lunch,” Shu says firmly. Then, too late, he realizes that the single word,
unaccompanied by a nod or gesture (he’s too afraid of moving his hands all of a
sudden), is neither a confirmation nor a denial. “Oh! Ah. My time is--it’s
valuable, of course, you see! Ha!”
Then he clears his throat, and grabs Mika’s shoulder for support. “Yes. That
is, yes. Lunch.”
Mika leans around Shu, grasping onto the sleeve of his robes to tell Rei, very
firmly, but very quietly, “He’s good company. He jus’ thinks you’re handsome.”
“Oh? Ah, lucky me, then,” Rei says, laughing easily as he leans in to pat the
top of Shu’s head, gently mussing his hair as he passes. “Then meet me in my
chambers in an hour, would you? I wouldn’t want to waste any more of your
valuable time than I have to.”
Mika leans around Shu’s other side when Rei leaves, then looks up at Shu to
report back. “He does smell good,” he says, batting his eyelashes. “You want a
kissin’ lesson?”
“What do you know about kissing?” Shu asks, sweating to what feels like an
absurd extent. “You’re eleven. How dare you talk, now I have to go to his
chambers!”
“Yeah, eleven’s old,” Mika mildly says, cocking his head. “Which means you’re
real old if you don’t know anythin’. Wow, Master, I’ve never seen y’sweat this
much.”
“Don’t--don’t point such things out, how ill-mannered and vulgar of you!” Is
eleven old? Shu wonders, panicked. If so, then at nineteen, he’s abysmally
advanced, without being...advanced, at all. No, no, Mika had started far too
young, of course. He knows that, logically, but his logical brain had all but
deserted him when Rei had asked him to lunch. “There’s no reason he shouldn’t
want to have lunch with me,” he says out of nowhere, gathering his books. “I’m
quite interesting. And the youngest Nightcloak of all time.”
“Um…yeah…he thinks you’re reeeal neat,” Mika says. “Neat enough to have lunch
with. In his chambers. He touched your hair, was his hand nice? They looked
nice. Do you want me to come with you to lunch, or just wait outside? I mean,
if you two are gonna make kissy faces at one another, I don’t wanna be in the
way…”
“Wizards do not make kissy faces!” Shu hisses the words, then grabs Mika’s
hand, pulling him back to their dormitories. “Help me get ready, you know what
men like to smell. Not that it matters.”
Mika trots after him obediently, an innocent smile on his lips. “Not that it
matters,” he hums. “Master, you’re real pretty. You need to smell like flowers,
truuust me.”
“I do suppose you have some experience and knowledge in that regard. What
should I do, tuck flower petals in my robes? Ah, perhaps I should have Wataru
summon them all around me, he does love a chance to show off...”
“No, no, that won’t last,” Mika insists, tugging on Shu’s hand. “I’ll show
you.”
Their dormitory is a shared one, strictly at Shu’s insistence. It’s shared even
down to the bed, which is two smaller beds pushed together, something that
would not be allowed for anyone else. But Shu is a Nightcloak—a very
influential Nightcloak, and more than that, a very well-behaved Nightcloak
unless he isn’t given what he wants…and he rarely asks for anything. At least,
that’s how Mika has come to understand it.
He drops himself onto the floor next to the bed, reaching underneath it for a
small, polished wooden box that he keeps beneath it. “Sit,” he orders Shu,
patting on the side of the bed. “I stole this from a noble lady the last time
the crown did its little walk-through around here.”
“What--what are you doing stealing from people?” Shu demands, aghast. “You’ll
give it back, of course. What if they’d discovered you? Then you’d be in for
re-education, and I’d have to figure out how to get along without you--not that
I need you, of course, ha!”
He clears his throat, brushing his hair back again. “Anyway, do you have
perfume? I don’t want it to be overwhelming.”
Mika rolls his eyes. “They haven’t caught me yet and it was over a year ago,”
he blithely says, unconcerned, and he flips open the box to pull out a tiny
little vial. He climbs up to his feet, gesturing for Shu to lean down. “I
always thought this one would suit you. Don’t worry, ’s not too much, I swear.
Juuust enough that he’s gotta lean in if he wants to smell more of you.”
Shu blushes furiously, but leans down nevertheless. “This is absolutely wasted
on me, of course. Wizards are celibate. I have no reason to attempt to attract
anyone. Do you really think he’ll like it?”
“I think that’s dumb, but whatever,” Mika mutters underneath his breath,
dabbing a bit of the oil back into Shu’s hairline, then right at the base of
his throat. He grabs for Shu’s wrists, dabbing those as well. It’s soft and
floral, but definitely quite light, and even being liberal in its application,
it still doesn’t float off of Shu in waves. “There. He’ll like it, now you
smell like a high class lady.”
“As if that’s the effect I intend to cultivate?” Shu demands, but he’s heard
worse things, and he stands up, tugging his robes into place. “Well. I don’t
want to keep him waiting. Oh, what do I usually do with my hands?”
“Um…nothin’ much? I mean, I guess you’re usually pettin’ me.” Mika’s expression
shifts wry. “You sure you don’t want me to come?”
“We are going to speak of very academic and esoteric things,” Shu says dryly.
“I don’t relish you tugging at my sleeves and mutteringMasteeeeeer, Masteeeeer,
every time I try to speak, just because you are bored.”
“Okaaaay, if you say so.” Mika throws himself back down onto the bed, kicking
his feet out behind him. “Don’t get mad if you don’t talk ‘bout nothin’ at all,
and instead jus’ make kissy faces. I warned youuuu.”
“Yes, obviously, I’m sure a ninety-year-old demon from the Shadowlands with the
knowledge of ages and the power of a Nightcloak wants to forsake his entire
existence for the charms of one arrogant teenager,” Shu says, adjusting the
brooch at his neck. “Right. Well. Don’t...get into trouble. Actually do your
homework for once, or I’ll be cross.”
“Uh huh, whatever y’say, Master.” Mika twists onto his side, looking over at
Shu over his shoulder. “Y’know you’re handsome, right?” he bluntly says. “And
you’re smart and you’re powerful. If he tries to kiss you, you should jus’ do
it.”
Shu pokes Mika in the forehead, unable to think of a comeback, and turns,
stalking out the door, cloak whipping behind him.
As a visiting professor, Rei’s chambers are far more opulent than any
student’s, with an ornate door decorating the front. Shu shifts from foot to
foot--how long has it been? An hour? Surely not more--shit, it may have been
far, far less--and knocks before he can think of a reason not to.
The door swings open, and answering it is Rei himself, stripped of his robes
and in nothing but breeches and thin white linen that leaves—well, not much to
the imagination as to what’s underneath (that is, none of the straps and
nonsense that other wizards seem privy to, these days). He beams, stepping back
to let Shu inside. “Ah, you’re quite early, but that’s good. I’m still
struggling to wake up, they keep putting my guest classes far too early,” he
says with a yawn, drifting backwards to take a seat at a table already set with
tea. “I see you didn’t bring your little bird.”
“He gets bored with intellectual conversation,” Shu says, then can’t help
himself from asking, “Did you want to see him? Rather than me? Which would be
fine, of course, but he is a child--a bright child, I’m very proud of him,
but...all the same, I wanted to speak to you.”
“Oh, no, you’re the one I’m interested in. I was just informed the two of you
were more or less bound at the hip, so…I assumed, my apologies.”
Rei pulls the door shut behind him. “Please, make yourself comfortable. I’m
going to end up talking your ear off, I’m afraid. I’ve been gone for some time,
and I have…too many questions about the state of this place.”
“We do indeed have much to talk about,” Shu agrees. Mika is obviously silly.
Rei doesn’t want anything ridiculous from him, even if he is the most gorgeous
human Shu has ever seen. He strides into the center of the room, taking note of
the resplendent chambers, eyebrows raising. “Well. I think I’ll become a
visiting professor when I’m older.”
“Ahhh, all of this…it’s a bit much, I think. The Emperor is trying to convince
me that if I’m kept in splendor, I’ll enjoy staying,” Rei dryly says, walking
up next to Shu and absently resting a hand against his back. “From what I’ve
seen so far…that’s still debatable. How old are you, Shu?”
“Nineteen, near twenty.” Shu adjusts his lapels, then puts his hands down at
his sides. Too much hand, stop it. “I heard you’ve been studying transference
up in the Cloudlands, is that true? If such things can be harnessed, the
implications are staggering.” Yes, good, that sounds intelligent. Very
impressive, Shu is sure.
“It’s not practical for most wizards, though, so there’s little point to it,”
Rei dismisses, giving Shu a light shove to one of the chairs. He plops down
next to him, rather than across from him, and pours Shu a cup of tea. “For
someone so young, you’ve accomplished quite a bit. Do you know what I was doing
when I was nineteen?”
“Entering your third year at Academy, because you bloomed at sixteen--quite
late, but not unheard-of,” Shu says, then realizes far too late that most
people don’t know the backstories of strangers before meeting them. He flushes
pink, then looks down at his cup. “I read your book.”
“Oh. I was going to say ‘sleeping.’ That’s what I remember doing, at any rate.”
Rei leans forward, eyebrows raised. “Glad to know this isn’t one-sided
research, then. I’ve asked everyone I can get my hands on about you.”
You could get your hands on me.
 No, Shu.
Shu clears his throat, then takes a sip of tea. “There aren’t many of us, are
there? I can understand why you might be...curious. There’s little to know, so
ultimately your quest must have been entirely fruitless. Apologies. I’ll be far
more interesting soon.”
“See, I disagree.” Rei’s eyes lid, and he pours himself a cup of tea as well.
“First and foremost, I’ve heard from almost every single source that you and
the Emperor butt heads…and I think that’s funny. It must mean you’re smarter
than him.”
Shu hides his smile behind his teacup. “To say such a thing would be a form of
treason,” he says, keeping a straight face only by the strictest sense of the
phrase. “So I’ll just let you say it and nod. Because it’s true.”
“Is it a form of treason?” Rei asks, genuinely surprised. “I thought it was
merely something obvious…oh well, I’m a traitor now, I suppose.” He takes a sip
of his tea, shrugging. “The Academy is so different than how I remember it. I
can’t say I like it.”
“Tell me how it used to be.” Shu is surprised that his words come out so, for
lack of a better word, curious. “What was it like in your day--ah, I don’t
mean--I just mean when you first came here. Not that you’re old. You look--you
have nice skin.”
Rei’s expression doesn’t change, but he does take another sip of tea before
setting his teacup down. “And you,” he mildly says, “smell nice. Anyway, I’m an
old man, we can both agree to that. Back in my day, wizards weren’t
so…confined. Certainly, we were monitored closely for our first few years of
training, but it was nothing like this. For the most part, we were allowed to
mingle with society before our training was complete, if we showed the proper
control.”
Shu breathes out through his nose. “That sounds...hmm. Different. I’m not
entirely certain if I would prefer that. As a rule, I do not enjoy people.”
“It’s not like it was a requirement. Wizards were still kept here to be
trained, of course, but…” Rei flutters a hand. “For example. We could still
maintain contact with our families, if we wished it. We could have associates
that weren’t wizards. We,” he adds wryly, setting down his teacup, “could have
lovers. Can you explain to me, the concept of wizards being celibate?”
“I--”
Shu shuts his mouth with an audible snap. “That sounds false,” he says
suspiciously, looking at Rei through narrowed eyes. “We can’t have lovers.
Emotions go out of control during such things. And--stop looking so smug, I
know a bloodbred can smell when someone’s pulse increases and you don’t need to
look so proud of it, Sir.”
“I’m thinking perhaps the Emperor had an orgasm that was too much for him once,
and that’s why he made that law,” Rei bluntly says. He doesn’t comment on being
able to smell Shu’s pulse, but he smiles, nonetheless. “Or, he was jealous over
the fact my magic is augmented through sex. You know, let’s go with that one, I
feel like he’d die if someone touched him too intimately.”
Shu snorts now, and doesn’t bother to hide it. “I’m honestly surprised he let
you come back, if you’re going to be sprouting all of this sedition. Do you
know where he hides his dirty scrolls or something?”
“No, I’m just friends with both his ex-lover and current…hmm, I wonder what he
calls him now if not lover? I bet he still touches him, though. The point is,”
Rei says, leaning closer. “He’s a hypocrite. He asked me to come back, though.”
It seems entirely unfair, and Shu takes a long swallow from the cup. “Wait.
He’d die if anyone touched him but he’s got a lover and an ex-lover? Your
famously curving tongue seems to be fact, Demon King.”
“Eh? You’ve heard about my tongue?”
Shu’s jaw clenches so tightly he hears it pop. “I--I said I’ve read everything,
haven’t I? Quintus’s treatise on the Shadowlands, in ’43.”
“Ahhh. I was just afraid Ritsu had been talking about it again.” Rei plops his
chin down into one hand, sticking out his tongue the barest amount. “But yes,
the Emperor seems to be pulling the wool over your eyes quite spectacularly. I
daresay it’s my fault, I really do think he’s just jealous that sex does
wonders for me and nothing for him.”
“You think he rewrote all of Academy policy for the last fifty years because
he’s jealous of you, but still invited you to become a guest professor?” Shu
smiles, and tries not to look as if he’s eyeing the rare glimpse of that tongue
with every bit of his attention. “I can’t decide if you’re self-centered...or
if you just know how good you are. Either way, you obviously know how
attractive that confidence is.”
“Ahh, so your little bird wasn’t kidding, then, when he said you thought I was
handsome.” Rei beams. “I’m self-centered, and so is the Emperor. I like a bit
of freedom, and he desires a bit more order. So between the two of us, and what
little I’ve told you, then I think you can understand why he wants me back
here. Apparently, there are too many powerful wizards floating about for him to
handle by himself. Even if I make him angry…I do make his life easier.”
At that, Shu’s smile turns into a smirk. “You mean he’s threatened by me and my
little crow, don’t you? Good. People don’t take him seriously enough. And I
obviously don’t think anyone takes me seriously enough, I’m far better than all
the rest of them.”
“Of course you are. Which is why I’m talking to you now.” Rei’s eyes lid. “And
one of many reasons why I find you interesting, but perhaps…that’s the least of
them.”
He reaches out, idly unhooking the broach at Shu’s neck and unraveling the
ribbon it’s attached to. “You should show more skin. You have a lovely neck.”
Shu’s breath stutters. A second later, violet fire flares in his lap, and his
cup shatters into fine powder. “Sorry--shit, I’m sorry, I--”
“See, this is the problem with restricting normal activity,” Rei sighs,
entirely unfazed as he simply dusts the powder away. “Wizards become unable to
control any and all emotions. This is all the more difficult with a wizard as
powerful as yourself. Don’t worry, you can’t damage anything in here beyond
blowing up a bit of furniture. The room is more or less full of magic
nullifiers, Eichi doesn’t trust me.”
Shu gulps for air, feeling anxiety rising in his chest, creeping up to his
neck. “I’m, I’m not entirely equipped for this sort of thing, honestly, I don’t
know who told you I was, but I’ve--I’ve always followed the Academy’s rules,
ever since I bloomed, if you want someone to break the rules you’ll want Mika--
”
“That child? No, thank you.” Rei simply hooks a finger into the collar of Shu’s
robes, pulling him closer. “No one told me much about you, I’ll be honest. But
you apparently think I’m handsome and you smell lovely, so…”
“S-so...”
Shu grabs Rei’s hands firmly, and yanks them down from his collar, holding
Rei’s eyes with sudden, burning intensity. “If you want me to break every vow
I’ve ever taken for you, Demon King,” he says, voice hot and determined
suddenly, “then you’ve got to do better at seducing me than simply assuming. Is
that all the power the great Demon King has? Ha!”
Rei blinks back at him placidly, then simply plucks up a piece of the cup that
hadn’t entirely turned to dust. It turns to dust, then, underneath his touch,
only to reform and remerge as a delicate head of white flowers, attached to a
heavily leafed stem. “You smell like that,” he simply says, and hands it to Shu
before patting his cheek and rising from his seat. “If you’re so concerned
about your rules, then you can go.”
Shu’s hand reaches out, grabbing Rei’s sleeve, though he doesn’t look away from
the flowers. “Look here. I don’t mind you thinking I’m beautiful or desirable.
But I’m worth far more than to be trifled with, no matter how much I might
fancy you.”
“Oh…I’m not trifling with you, did I really give that sort of impression?”
Rei heaves a sigh and slides back into his chair, shaking his head. “Obviously
you’re worth far more. Ah, I’m moving too fast, aren’t I? I forget, they’ve
kept you locked in a box for so many years.”
He gently catches Shu’s chin all the same, tilting his head up, forcing him to
meet his gaze. “It’s unfortunate if this troubles you,” he quietly says,
“because you also already smell like you belong to me.”
Shu doesn’t look away this time--he can’t, not when it feels as though Rei has
caught his gaze firm, molten heat dripping into him through those crimson eyes.
“Oh,” he manages, finally. “You should...work on your delivery. Because even I,
who came to this chamber half-intending to make myself an outcast and throw
everything away, expecting to be ensnared by your touch and your voice, would
have refused such a crass invitation.”
“Really? Your pulse is thundering.” Rei smiles, leaning in until their
foreheads touch. “And you’ve yet to refuse me.”
“I...do believe I said would have,” Shu breathes, eyes flickering. He lets his
hands drift up, hoping against hope that Rei sees something in his own eyes
that’s halfway as entrancing as what Shu sees. “But, ah, you see, you’ve
forgotten something.”
“I probably have,” Rei agrees, content with being corrected. Shu smells so
good, it’s distracting. Whatever perfume his baby crow decorated with him is
nice, but beyond that, it’s the simple scent of him, and of his blood, heady
and rich and powerful. Lunch, indeed. His fingers absently trail down from
Shu’s chin, tracing the line of his neck. “So tell me what that is.”
“You’ve forgotten...that my participation is not only conditional on your
proposal.” Shu swallows hard. Most of himself is appalled at the way he’s
acting--but if Rei really does have blockers on his chambers, this is likely
his only chance to get a kiss ever. Steeling himself, he admits, “The rest of
it...is my own desires.”
“Ahh.” A long, sharp nail gently traces the line of Shu’s carotid. “So. I’ll
make my proposal a simple one, then.” Rei tilts his head. “Be mine. You can ask
‘why’, if you like, but I’ll always tell you the same thing—because I want you.
I came to this place because of you. I smelled you the moment I walked through
the door. There’s no real sense to it, but could I steal you from this place
right now…ah, I might still.”
“I’ll bring Mika,” Shu breathes, as if he’s--as if he’s some maiden in a tale,
no, this cannot be. He swallows again, mouth dry, and twirls a strand of Rei’s
hair around one finger, watching the inky trail flow around his skin. “Maybe we
can bring down the Emperor. You and I, we’re better than he is.”
“Of course you’ll bring him. He doesn’t belong here either.” Rei’s lips purse,
his fingers stilling against Shu’s throat. “There’s nothing inherently wrong
with what Eichi is doing. Some wizards need this sort of structure to grow
strong and feel secure, but…that isn’t the same for all of us. If he had tried
to put these sorts of restrictions on me, for example…” He trails off, shaking
his head. “A conversation for another day.”
His thumb slides up, brushing over Shu’s lower lip. “A secondary proposal,” he
hums. “May I kiss you?”
“That depends,” Shu says, trying to speak to cover the sound of his rapid
heartbeat. His cock swells, pressing against the plate in his underwear, and
never has he been more glad that he’s a graduate, and is done with the spikes.
It’s still incredibly uncomfortable, but at least it isn’t so painful it makes
him afraid he’ll injure himself. “Are you going to fight the emperor for me if
your blockers fail? I have too much yet to do in this life to be re-educated.”
“An unnecessary question, that. I’ll kill him.” 
“Delightful. Then you may kiss me.” Shu has never been this stupid, but isn’t
that what youth is for? “And know that I passed every temptation test they ever
threw at me. You’re special.”
“I know,” Rei says cheerfully, and leans forward, claiming his prize.
Shu’s mouth is as pliant as it should be—or, more specifically, it isn’t at
all, how cute. Rei pulls him close by a finger hooked into his collar once
more, and the tongue Shu apparently already knows about flicks out, dragging
over his lower lip, gently seeking.
A lamp shatters into dust in the corner. Shu ignores it except to throw up a
careless shield, protecting both of them from any shrapnel. He parts his lips,
since that seems to be what Rei requests, and feels himself swooning, leaning
into Rei’s chest with eyes lidded, arousal rippling through him.
Rei sputters a soft laugh against Shu’s mouth, and swiftly drags him out of his
chair and into his own lap, arms firm about his waist and his mouth hot against
him. “There’s a good boy,” he breathes, and his tongue slides hot against
Shu’s, dragging against the roof of his mouth teasingly. “Mmm…” He draws back,
licking his own lips. “You taste even better than you smell, somehow.”
“Taste is a more...intensive sense,” Shu breathes, eyelids fluttering as he
leans up for more. “According to Brewman’s Bodily Hierarchy, it, ah, has closer
ties to our magical selves. Ah, I’m--I’m going to call you by your name, that’s
also intensive.”
“Go on, then, see if you can manage when I have my tongue in your mouth,” Rei
teases, and snatches him up in another kiss.
Shu is much more pliant now, which is cuter still, and Rei’s fingers slide back
through his hair, mussing it as he pulls him up into kiss after kiss, sucking
on Shu’s tongue when he coaxes it into his own mouth. “You really,” he
breathes, “already taste like you’re mine. Mmn, and I thought that sort of
thing was a myth…”
Shu’s pulse thuds. His cock aches. He drags his tongue against Rei’s, and is
horrified and fascinated to see that he knows exactly what Rei means, already.
“My lord,” he says softly, and the words feel right. “Ah...damn. I had thought
to live my life without finding you.”
Shu says that, and Rei shudders, his fingers gripping too tightly at Shu’s
back. “Don’t say that again, or I’ll have you right here and now,” he lowly
warns, his breath hitching hard in his chest. It’s already difficult enough not
to toss Shu back onto his bed, even though Rei knows that’s stupid. He’s never
claimed to be wholly logical about his decisions. “I mean it, when I said I
could smell you when I came here. Gods, but you’re distracting.”
Shu runs his hands down Rei’s chest, and has to bite back tears. Rei feels
right, in a way Shu thought was only in maiden’s songs, lovely but delusional
stories about meeting one’s True Love. He’d done research, of course. The most
accepted theories put forth that there was indeed one fitting mate for
everyone, but most people cannot hear or feel the resonating thrums of energy
in each other.
Most people, except wizards, who train themselves in such energies.
“What is it like in your head?” Shu whispers, clutching at Rei’s robes. “For me
it’s music, your note--it’s a perfect harmony.”
Rei hesitates when he hears that, and his lips curl into a slow smile. “See,
that’s how we know we match,” he murmurs, reaching to gently unfurl Shu’s
clutching fingers and methodically twine them with his own instead. “You have
such a lovely sound, Shu.”
Tears spring unbidden to Shu’s eyes, and he ignores them, letting them splash
down his cheeks, clutching at Rei’s hands. Parting his lips, very softly, he
sings a note, the note he’s never sung for anyone else, the note that makes the
sound of his own soul. Rei, at last, will understand.
A shiver curls down to Rei’s toes, and he grabs for Shu’s face, kissing him
again—not to silence, but to all but taste that sound. A much lower note
rumbles from his own throat, a soft, natural harmony to Shu, and he pulls back,
thumbs gently brushing over his cheeks to wipe away some of his tears. “Mine,”
he murmurs quietly. “You’re mine. Whether I take you now or later, that won’t
change. You can’t be free of me, I’m afraid.”
“I’m not...entirely certain that even you can hold your wards through something
like that,” Shu says gently, “so hold me and kiss me for now. And when your
wards are better, my lord,” he teases, kissing the tip of Rei’s nose, leaning
into his hands, “you can have me.”
“Oh, I can’t,” Rei confirms, laughing as he pulls Shu firmly against him,
taking every opportunity to hold him close. “I’m serious about some of these
laws being because of me. The Emperor simply can’t have any wild sex magic
corrupting his wizards.”
“Do something about it, then,” Shu says tartly, winding his arms around Rei’s
chest, then adjusting himself in Rei’s lap. “O Powerful Demon King, hurry up
and make me your Queen already.”
“Don’t say that, or I will. I’m not ready to steal you away yet.” Rei’s fingers
slide down Shu’s back, and he makes a face at how he can feel those strange
straps even through heavy fabric. “Maybe if I give Eichi a good enough offer,
he’ll do away with this mess.”
“Careful. Touching them too much sets off alarms. Lovely, isn’t it?” Shu rests
his head on Rei’s shoulder, then asks softly, “Am I why you came back, do you
think? Could you hear me? Or is this just coincidence?”
“What the hell is that nonsense,” Rei mutters, pulling his fingers away with a
look of disgust. “Who even thought this up? Ugh.”
His fingers slide to Shu’s hair again, petting through it down the back of his
neck. “Eichi truly did invite me back. We’ve…worked together, before, him and
Wataru and I. I thought I’d give it a chance. You are just…a very lucky
coincidence, I think.”
“Destiny,” Shu corrects, tangling his fingers in Rei’s hair, then pet-combing
through it. “Just because the meaning of the word has been desecrated by fools
and mortals who think they can plead with gods to affect their futures isn’t
any reason to stop paying heed to the skillfully crafted narrative of time.
Don’t steal that quote for your book.”
“Ooh. I might.” Rei grins, flashing sharp teeth, and unravels the tie in his
hair, letting Shu have free reign with it. “But with proper credit, of course.
Tell me about yourself properly, I’m sick of only hearing rumors.”
“Hmm. Tell me what you’ve heard, so I know what to correct.”
“You’re a spoiled brat son of a wealthy merchant, with a foul temperament and
have a hefty amount of distaste for anyone that would disagree with you, to the
point you’ve leveled buildings before when someone had a differing opinion.”
Rei smiles placidly. “Also, you pitched such a fit about your cute little bird
friend—Mika? Is that his name?—that he’s permitted to be with you at all times,
even though he’s been classified as too dangerous even for assignment. That one
I’m fuzzy on, you can enlighten me.”
Shu leans into Rei’s chest, a pleased little smile on his face. “Good, they’re
talking about me. Well. About Mika, yes, entirely accurate, though I wouldn’t
say Ipitched a fit.” He had, but he wouldn’t say it. “He’s a sensitive child,
and he considers me a protector. They said he could never be allowed to meet
people or walk about, that lessons would never permeate his deranged mind.
I...objected. Firmly.”
“He didn’t seem deranged,” Rei comments mildly, “just young. I haven’t
evaluated him properly, of course, but I’m sure I’ll come to the same
conclusion once I do. What about your rumors? Is it true you’re a spoiled
brat?”
“I prefer to think of myself as a luxury that few can afford,” Shu says with a
sniff. “I’m not one of those nobles that’s always had life handed to him on a
silver platter, my family works for a living. I simply have high standards for
anyone who would attempt to engage me in conversation.”
“You’re adorable,” Rei says frankly. “A luxury few can afford…I love that,
aren’t you glad I’m wealthy, then?” he teases, leaning in to steal a kiss
straight from Shu’s mouth. “If it’s true you blow things up when people don’t
agree with you, however, that’s a direct correlation to not being touched and
pampered enough, I think. I suppose I’ll just have to touch you all over while
I’m here, hmm?”
“It’s--it’s more that I can’t entirely control it when my emotions are strong,”
Shu admits, mouth twisting. “I’m not satisfied with it, so I’ve confined myself
to the Academy until I’ve decided the problem is under control. And any time
someone’s notes are discordant with my own, it...sets me off.”
“Mm, I see…that’s unfortunate. I can try to help, if you want. I’ve found that
having a soothing hobby helps. Gardening,” Rei idly offers up. “That worked for
me. But if you’re cooped up in a place like this, that can’t entirely help
you.”
“I like sewing. I’ve sewed that cloak you’re wearing,” Shu says, smiling. “I am
young yet, of course. By the time I’m your age, I’ll have control over every
part of myself.”
Rei blinks, glancing at his cloak, then back at Shu, and gives him a squeeze.
“You could make all of my clothes,” he firmly says. “This is my favorite cloak,
I’ve damned near worn it to death. Anyway, of course you’re young, but you’re
so good, no need to prove the Emperor right.”
“What do you mean, prove him right?” Shu asks, furrowing his brows. “Obviously
strong emotions affect us, we’d be fools to think they wouldn’t. Emotions are
often intertwined with magic--I’ll learn to control it or I’ll cut it all off.”
“Right now, the Emperor has you all…kept like this out of a supposed need for
your safety, and everyone else’s. Obviously, emotions are often intertwined
with magic, but he’s a fool that thinks the lot of us are incapable of ever
controlling it.” Rei sighs, fluttering a hand. “I know you’re still learning.
He likes to use it as an example. Wretched, he’s just wretched.”
“He likes to use me as an example,” Shu says grumpily. “Each time I lose
control, it’s another thing he reminds me of, if I ever request extra
privileges. I’ll kill him one day.”
“Not if I don’t first,” Rei brightly says. “He was my friend, you know, but the
longer I stay here, the more likely I am to lose my sense of humor. He’s ruined
Wataru, absolutely ruined him.”
“Wataru? Ruined?” Shu’s face falls. “I quite like him, I must say. I know he’s
the Emperor’s left hand, but we’ve always...understood each other.”
“Ruined,” Rei confirms with a shake of his head. “He was very different before
he became Eichi’s favorite. That’s why I’m entirely certain Eichi is a
hypocrite, you see. Wataru’s sex appeal is quite high.”
“Of course,” Shu agrees easily. “Ah, tell me what he was like--tell me what you
were like, when you were young. I’ve read the books, but...tell me of the
Academy, from your day. You’re a living treasure of history.”
“Oh…no…you don’t really need those stories. I was a terrible child. I fancied
myself a street thug, that’s all you need to know.”
Shu clears his throat. “You sound...quite adorable. Like a feisty
little...hmm.”
He frowns, and opens one hand, light gathering above it until it coalesces, and
a tiny glass figure of a dog drops into his hand. It’s clearly modeled after an
incredibly fluffy breed, with just a hint of a tongue hanging out. “Like this.”
Rei exhales a strangled noise, and just barely resists snatching it out of
Shu’s hand. “I love dogs,” he insistently says, grabbing up Shu’s hands with
the figurine still in it. “Pure little things, they’re so cute, I’d have a herd
of them if I could—oh, I recently adopted a wolf puppy, you’d never believe how
disobedient he is! But back to the point, I was not cute, I was absolutely
horrific, you never would have wanted to know me.”
Shu sniffs, quite pleased with Rei’s reaction. “If you can show me an image of
him, I can make you a proper doll of your puppy. I...I quite like dolls.
Animals, not as much, but dolls, certainly.”
“Oh, hmm, let’s see, let’s see.” Rei releases Shu’s hands to flutter one of his
own, a wiggle of his fingers resulting in a every single shadow in the room
pulling to his fingertips, then flinging themselves against the wall opposite
them. They quickly take the form of a scruffy, fat little dog-thing, with paws
and tail far too big for its body. “That’s what he looks like when he gets
angry,” Rei fondly says. “So charming. Normally, he’s such a yappy teenager. I
much prefer the sounds he makes when he’s all…fluffy.”
Shu smiles, and furrows his brow again, until another fat glass figure drops
into his palm, far closer to the odd puppy thing that Rei is describing. “Like
this? Ah, it’s quite cute, don’t you think? I can only make the female ones
make sounds, I don’t know why.”
“Because women are the superior sex, perhaps?” Rei says with a snort, gingerly
plucking the scruffy little puppy out of Shu’s hand. “Perfect, absolutely
perfect, you’ve captured his essence. I’ll give this to him, if you don’t mind,
and he’ll be furious. This is quite a talent you have, do they ever let you do
anything with it here?”
“Of course not, I’m told it’s an entirely useless skill and I should put my
talents to work making weapons, or tools to root out sedition.” Shu snorts. “As
if making things for beauty’s sake is less worthy than making things for
practical use.”
“Oh, to hell with that nonsense,” Rei mutters, leaning forward to gingerly set
the figurine down onto the table. “Are you told that often? To make weapons?
Whatever for?”
“Oh, all the time. And I must each time decide whether to tell them that I’ve
failed, and endure ridicule, or that I refuse, and risk being sent for re-
education.” The line of Shu’s mouth turns sour, and he leans back into Rei’s
chest, eyes closing. “They say if I keep refusing they’ll send me to the
Western front, to aid in the war against the Inglings, in the hopes that I’ll
discover a secret to desolation in my hour of need.”
Rei’s eyes lid at that, and he slowly rubs a hand down Shu’s back, mindful not
to linger on any of those obnoxious straps for too long. “Let them send you
there,” he quietly says, “when your education here is complete. It will be much
easier for me to find you, and steal you away to my manor, where you can
decorate the whole place with your art.”
“My education was complete two years hence,” Shu says loftily. “I’m simply
considered too volatile to be given a peaceful assignment, so theoretically I’m
consigned to the Academy as a researcher. Of course, I’ve been given no true
purpose to research, so I’m essentially a glorified tutor and babysitter for
the young ones, and Mika.”
“…That’s adorable. Of course you have a mother’s temperament.”
“I didn’t say I was--listen, how dare you?”
“Ah, would you rather be the father-figure? I can understand that. I’ll
concede, I’ll just have to be your wife, then.”
Shu cocks his head. “Am I the father, if you’re the Demon King and I your
Queen? How does this work? I’ve never had a lover, much less a spouse, you’ll
have to lead the way.”
“With two men, I don’t think it matters much. But you’re absolutely my Demon
Queen, and…also, their father, my husband, I think. Yes, that’s how this will
work,” Rei hums. “And when the time comes, we’ll have a grand wedding, that
much I’ve truly decided.”
Shu smiles, and leans against Rei’s chest, listening to the oddly human
thumping of his heart. “Whatever you say, my lord.”
***** Chapter 23 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
High Harbor feels like more of a luxury than the Capital ever has, and that
starts with being able to wake up next to Leo.
Izumi has the mind to stay there. Morning light already pours over them through
the window, and simply staying in bed has its own set of charms. But after so
long being cooped up indoors, save for the journey here, Izumi is restless, and
so he presses a kiss to the top of Leo’s sleeping head before sliding silently
out of bed, dressing and taking his sword.
More at odds with the allure of bed than anything is Vale, scruffy and too-thin
(in his eyes) after weeks without him. Izumi arrives at the stables and sets
himself to the task of detangling Vale’s horrifically tangled mane, piece by
piece. Neigh, in the stall across from Vale, watches, munching slowly on her
hay, her gaze judgmental. “Don’t look at your boyfriend so condescendingly,”
Izumi scolds, tossing an apple into her feed trough. She goes for it, albeit
reluctantly. “Least you could’ve done is do his hair for him.”
“I tried. Ungrateful wretch almost took my hand off, like it was five slender
carrots stuck out of an apple.”
Arashi pokes his head up from Neigh’s stall, hoof pick in hand, hair falling
into his eyes. He smiles, seeing Izumi. “You look better. Some food and sleep,
eh? Looks like your fine boy here has had some, too.” He points to the
overflowing oats spilling out of Vale’s bucket. “That stableboy’s been filling
them up every couple of hours, he’s going to eat himself to death.”
“He’s been starving,” Izumi defensively says, though he pops Vale in the nose
with the comb when the horse turns his head around to try and lip at Izumi’s
too-short hair. It’s a relief to see Arashi, however, and he settles back to
his task, methodically picking his way through matted hair. “Sorry about him
trying to have a go at you. He’s finicky. You look better, too, now that your
face isn’t broken.”
“Stick your magic hand over here, deal with my knee, would you? I’ve been
pretending,” Arashi admits. “Mika still feels like it’s his fault somehow, so
I’ve been ignoring it, but ouch.”
Izumi dusts his hands off, setting the comb down on Vale’s stall door before he
ducks over into Neigh’s instead. “Sit and I’ll give it a go. Why would he feel
like it’s his fault? He didn’t kick the shit out of you.” His expression is
wry. “How many men did that take, by the way?”
“I only counted the dead.” Arashi flops down on a bale of hay, and hisses in
relief when he extends his leg, at least as far as it’ll go. “Counted eight of
those. Dunno how many ran off to their masters. Then Mika’s little ghosties
came through, and...well.”
“First I’ve heard of any of that,” Izumi admits, patting Neigh’s neck when she
leans over to investigate, and then kneels down, gingerly running his fingers
over Arashi’s knee. “They tried to make it sound like you were dead that whole
time. Both Mika and Shu, too. Ah, it’s so hot,” he mutters, and braces himself
for the dizziness to follow when he lets free that energy to carefully mend
what’s underneath his fingertips.
Dizziness doesn’t come, but a dull, pounding headache does, much like he
remembers from trying to heal th too-old scar on his neck. This, however, seems
to do far more. The heat fades from underneath his touch, and Izumi sits back
onto the stall floor sigh a sigh. “Any better?”
Unbidden, tears of relief spring to Arashi’s eyes, and he wipes them on the
heel of his hand, looking away. “Ah, thank you, I didn’t realize how much that
was hurting. Heh, I bet they lied because we humiliated them so much--we sent
them running pretty easily, and we’d have been fine if they didn’t send the
Faerie to hunt us. I’d have gotten you out of that stupid place.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Izumi pats Arashi’s leg, waiting for the annoying throb
of his head to fade before he slowly hauls himself back to his feet. “I got out
eventually, didn’t I? Tell me if that knee bothers you again, I might have to
do it a couple of times to make it completely well.”
“Eh, I can heal from this much without a problem, it can actually extend now. I
don’t mind my hurts if they don’t slow me down.” Arashi flashes a grin, and
returns to cleaning Neigh’s hooves. “Or if they bother my pretty face. Ooh, you
know what we should do after this?”
“Kill every traitorous noble house? Kiss? I don’t know what angle you’re coming
from,” Izumi flippantly tosses over his shoulder as he ducks back out to Vale’s
stall. “Both sound fine.”
“True, both are good, but have you considered going down to the courtyard to
watch Captain Morisawa and his primary contingent play hickory-stick
shirtless?”
“Considering I don’t know who that is other than hearing the name in passing,
no, I didn’t consider that.” Izumi keeps picking away at Vale’s mane, much to
the horse’s vague irritation. “But he must be handsome, if you’re bringing it
up.”
“Gorgeous. Not to mention, he’s the only human alive that has a tied win/lose
ratio with me at sparring.” Arashi sighs dreamily. “Exactly the kind of man I
like to fantasize about. Incredible arms. Great ass. Cheerful smile. Nothing
like the kind of man I actually like to have as a lover, but damn, you know?”
Izumi levels a stare at him over the stall door. “He has a tied ratio with you?
Is he some kind of mixed blood, too?” he teases. “Stop talking so fondly about
this guy, I’m gonna get a complex.”
“Why? I’m not your lover,” Arashi points out. “And I’m not mixed blood,
asshole, I’m just good at what I do.”
“Whatever. You’re too strong to be human, I swear.” Izumi rolls his eyes. “Am I
not allowed to joke around with you now that you’re so firmly, ah, wed? Or
whatever he likes to call it? Honestly…”
“Taken, I believe,” Arashi says with a hum, tucking the hoof pick in its slot
in his leather tool case. “And you are too, aren’t you? After you nearly bit
poor Kasa’s hand off, I think you made yourself pretty clear.”
“Yes, about anyone touching him,” Izumi sniffs, fluttering a hand dismissively.
“But it’s fine, I see how it is. You only like boys with pretty little accents
and long hair now, guess I’m shit out of luck.”
Arashi laughs, tossing his hair back from his face, grabbing his bag and
looping it over his shoulder, nodding his head towards the beach. “Let me be
very honest--it’s more that I really don’t have the energy to keep up with what
he wants, now that he’s not bound by their stupid laws. It’s like he’s making
up for lost time, honestly.”
“How often does he want to do it?” Izumi asks, amused, and gives Vale a last
pat before moving to follow Arashi. “I mean, correct me if I’m wrong…but you’re
kind of a once or twice a week at most guy, and there’s nothing wrong with
that, but…”
“I can do once a day, maximum,” Arashi agrees, leading the way out of the
stables. “Twice on special occasions, but yeah, left to my own devices, I don’t
have a need for it more than like once a week. Mika...I don’t know. I’ve never
found his upper limit. Bottom limit is about three times a day, pretty sure.
I’m just kind of praying that he’ll calm down or tire out eventually.”
“Damn,” Izumi mutters, pushing his bangs out of his face after he shakes his
head. “He sounds almost as bad as I am. I agree, though, it sounds like he’s
trying to make up for lost time. I imagine he’ll probably calm down once
everything settles and you actually get back into a real routine. Leo—ah, the
prince would try to chop my balls off, if I went at it that much with him.”
“Obviously, the only solution is for you and Mika to become lovers,” Arashi
declares, slinging an arm around Izumi’s neck. “And I’ll be your next Queen,
clearly. A good plan, no?”
“Issue with that plan,” Izumi dryly points out, clapping a hand against
Arashi’s back. “Your Mika finds me incorrigible. Don’t think I didn’t hear him
last night—‘I don’t want to think the snake is sexy’—honestly, what’d I ever do
to him?”
“Oh, he just hates that I think you’re beautiful. He’s quite a jealous
creature, you know. Isn’t it adorable?”
“It would be cuter if I didn’t think he’d try to stab me with those nails of
his. Or bring his, ah, ghosties, out to massacre me.” Izumi shakes his head. “I
still can’t believe I haven’t heard of that going on. Or maybe I did, who
knows. I forgot I got stabbed, do you know how many times I’ve been scolded
about that now? Again before bed, even. I’m glad you just got out of that mess
with your face and knee a little roughed up. I’d be pissed if I came back and
you were ugly.”
“I know, I would have demanded they just kill me,” Arashi says, not actually
sounding like he’s joking at all. “Ugh. We’ll have to take care of those
nobles, of course. They can’t be allowed to just strut around, being dangers to
the prince.”
“I have a list. We can compare and contrast.” Izumi doesn’t sound like he’s
joking, either. “I want them all dead before he takes the throne. Their
families, too, if they insist there was no wrongdoing.”
“Naturally, darling. Ah, does your hair grow faster than normal? Or does it
just look longer now that it’s properly clean?”
“Oh, gods, are you just saying that to be nice or does it actually look longer?
I’ve been trying to encourage it,” Izumi laments, lifting a hand up to touch
the ends of it along the back of his neck. “I feel naked with it short like
this, and not in the good way, you know? And L—the prince, sorry, I’m stressed.
The prince commented on it and I wanted to die, honestly, I did.”
“No way, it’s definitely longer. See, here, I remember that it was shorter than
one of my fingers, but now it’s just a bit longer, see? And it’s only been a
day!”
“You didn’t have time to measure it like that, don’t tease me,” Izumi grumpily
says, swatting at Arashi’s hands. “I’m hideous, just tell me already. I wish
cut hair was a thing you could heal.”
“If you hate it that much, I can show you a place in the city. They find a
match, then sew attachments into your real hair--honestly, it looks really
good,” Arashi assures him. “Totally natural.”
“I’d believe it if there was literally any other person I’ve met with hair my
color,” Izumi sniffs. “I’ll get over it, I’m just still sore over it. I was
hoping it would grow back even faster, so that when I went back to the capital
to try my hand at killing again, it would piss them off.” He shrugs, glancing
away. “How vain can I be, right?”
“I can’t really think of anything you could do about this stuff that I wouldn’t
think was justified,” Arashi says, steering Izumi down to a huge cleared-out
field, with the sand swept away. There are already quite a few men gathered,
and Arashi settles onto a nearby bench, waving at a well-built man about a
decade his senior, warming up with a few ballistic stretches. “That’s Captain
Chiaki. You’d think he’d hate me, since I took his title of youngest regiment
captain ever, but he just gave me a big hug and told me to protect the West.”
Izumi starts to say something, then shuts his mouth, dropping right down next
to Arashi with large eyes. “Does he…does he always do this? In the chilly
weather? With his shirt off?”
“Oh, yes.” Arashi beams, kicking up his feet. “Isn’t it gorgeous? He says it’s
incentive for them to move faster, since they’ll have to in order to warm their
blood. I think the gods are just rewarding me for all the bad things that have
ever happened in my life.”
“I believe it,” Izumi says, helpless to do anything but stare, leaning back to
get the best view possible. “This is my reward for swearing off women for the
rest of my life, I think.”
Arashi reaches into his bag, pulling out a pouch of little candies and passing
them over, never breaking eye contact with Captain Morisawa’s excellent
nipples. “Ever climbed a mountain so large? I know you like them fey, but...”
“Wrong,” Izumi says, shoving a candy into his mouth. “This is my type.”
“I’m calling fake, your lover is tiny.”
“Let me clarify. Leo is Leo and I think he’s the absolute vision of perfection,
period. But that,” Izumi says, nodding to Chiaki, “is the kind of man that I
would like to have shoving me into a wall. Regularly.”
“Ooh, that’s why we’re definitely destined to be,” Arashi says with a sigh.
“I’d like to wind him around my finger and teach him brand new hickory-stick
rules, you know? Ah, what a shame that it’ll never happen for either of us.”
Izumi blinks at that, glancing away from the sweat that drips so nicely down
Chiaki’s spine, even in the cool weather. “What do you mean, it’ll never
happen? Look at him, a man like that has got to be hot-blooded.”
“Oh, he’s definitely hot-blooded, you can see steam rising out of his armpits,”
Arashi says dreamily. “But he’s...well. He’s so pure.”
“Doubtful. I bet I could climb him like a tree.”
Arashi’s eyes glitter with mirth. “Okay. How much?”
“Wait. You seriously think I can’t do it, don’t you!”
“Ten royals. Wait, no, a week of you rubbing my feet. Wait, no, you have to
braid Neigh’s hair for a week.”
“Fine! And if I can bed him—well, nothing about my horse, he’ll kill you and I
find you too tolerable for that.”
“You want money? I can’t help but feel like you still owe me quite a lot
because of all the tricks you pulled on me as a recruit. ‘Oh, Captain, yes, I
got slashed by the Inglings, but I didn’t scar because of this amazing cream my
mother makes, just two nobles a jar!’ ‘Oh, Captain, I recovered from that hit
so quickly because of this tonic my mother makes, just five royals for her
secret recipe!’ ‘Oh, Captain--”
“You deserve it, hag, for being so damned gullible,” Izumi snorts, shoving
Arashi’s shoulder. “It must be rough having to work hard to be beautiful.”
Arashi pokes Izumi in the side. “I think I deserve to be canonized for not
making you return all that crap. Fine, if you can tumble Morisawa, I’ll forgive
you for all that shit.”
“Plus a month’s supply of wine. None of the cheap shit from the West, good High
Harbor or Capital stuff,” Izumi insists with a wave of his hand. “Because then,
we can get drunk together and maybe you’ll finally be sweet enough that
Morisawa will have a go with you as well, hmm?”
Arashi nods, extending his hand. “Deal. Even for a lush like you. Set your own
time limit, I’m feeling generous.”
“Oh, I’ll have him by tonight,” Izumi dismissively says, shaking Arashi’s hand.
“It’s not like it’s hard.”
“Oh, this is going to be so much fun, I want to hear all about it, promise me
you’ll tell me everything,” Arashi says, delighted.
“I can tell you still don’t believe me by the tone of your voice. That’s very
rude. I was tumbling girls when I was eleven, you know.”
“Morisawa isn’t a girl. And he likes women, too.” Arashi beams, then winks.
“Good lu~uck!”
“That makes it easier. Even the best men,” Izumi says with a pat to Arashi’s
knee before he rises to his feet, “usually think with their pricks.”
His usual sour expression is replaced with an at-least moderately cheerful one.
“Captain Morisawa!” Izumi calls, striding over. “When you’re done, do you have
a moment? I’ve been dying to have a word with you.”
Chiaki hands off his hickory stick to a lieutenant, turning to give Izumi a
cheerful smile. “Hello!” His voice is boomingly loud, and he laughs, eyes
sparkling. “Want to play a pick-up round? You look like you’d be great at it!
I’ll find you a uniform--just kidding, we take off our shirts here!”
“So I’ve noticed, Captain,” Izumi says without batting an eye. Dear gods, but
Chiaki is…hmm. Large. In every sense of the word—tall, broad, voice, all of the
above. “But I’m afraid I’ll pass. I’d rather monopolize your time while I can.
Lord Izumi of the North, the heir to the Sena house. If you’ve the time, I’d
like to see the skills that can, apparently, toss Captain Arashi onto his ass.”
Chiaki looks up to see Arashi on the stands, and waves brightly back. “You want
to spar? Excellent! Here, where are you staying, we can go there, so we don’t
startle the children. Oh, and I only spar bare-handed, wouldn’t want any
accidents.”
“Fair enough,” Izumi airily says, taking a step back. “I’m staying at Lord
Tsumugi’s manor. It would be an honor for you to join me.”
“Great! Ah, Tetora, take over in my place, will you?” Chiaki grabs his shirt,
thoughtlessly wadded up on a bench, and tosses it over his shoulder. “Izumi, of
the North...what are you doing down here? This isn’t the North!”
“A shame, that—but High Harbor has been decisively more hospitable than I
imagined it to be,” Izumi says, sending a smirk over in Arashi’s direction as
he trots after Chiaki. “This is your city, isn’t it? I only just arrived last
night.”
“Yes, I live here! Just over there--” Chiaki points down a winding road, to
where a few children play ball in the streets, washerwomen just on their way
back from the laundry with baskets tied to their backs. “See the green door? I
grew up there. My mother and father still live there. I’m very grateful to have
a posting where I get to see them often. Is it hard to be so far from your home
and family?”
“My mother’s my only family, I’m afraid, but yes, it’s hard to be away from
her.” Pure, yes, but Izumi is wholly unfazed. He’d rather try chasing after
this kind of man than those of far more heinous personalities. “I’ve studied in
the capital since I was a boy, so I suppose I’m used to it by now.” Izumi steps
closer, and blinks, stepping back again. “Has anyone told you that
you’re..ah…very warm, Captain? You sort of radiate.”
“Of course! Oh, no, are you cold? A perfect excuse for a hug!” Chiaki stops on
the street to give Izumi a hug, as promised, pounding his back to get him warm.
“That…certainly is a way to get someone warm,” Izumi wheezes, feeling his feet
leave the ground. Chiaki’s chest is very warm and solid, and that’s nice. “You
can put me down at any point, I rather prefer being chilly. Northern blood.”
“A nice contrast, excellent!”
Chiaki sets him down, then walks up to the manor, waiting respectfully at the
gates. “I’m glad my lord and lady have someone so talented protecting them.
Just like Mighty Ham and the Seven Trolls!”
“…Come again?” Izumi waves to the guards, and the gates slowly swing open,
recognizing him even though he’s only been here for a day. The hair helps. “So
you’ve heard of me, then,” he presses. “Hopefully only good things.”
“Oh, everyone’s heard about the Valiant March to the North!” Chiaki says, face
lighting up enthusiastically. “How you and Captain Arashi took your most mobile
knights and dashed up to the northern estates to save the people, defeating a
thousand Inglings with only three hundred men--I could name the entire
contingent from how many times I’ve heard and told the story! There’s Captain
Arashi, and Izumi of the Sena house, and Mitsuru of--”
“That’s not necessary,” Izumi hastily cuts him off. “I’m, ah, flattered you
know the story so well. Heh, what you’re probably missing is how often Captain
Arashi stole kills from me. He’s so competitive, it’s so annoying at times.”
Chiaki’s face falls. “I wish it weren’t necessary to kill them. I’m very
hopeful that someday, our linguists will find a way to talk to the Inglings and
properly negotiate with them.”
“When they’re trying to rush at you and kill you, that’s honestly the last
thing on your mind,” Izumi wearily points out. “That’d be nice, of course, and
it certainly would cut our time on the field in half, but…” He trails off with
a shrug. “I wish that more for the wizards we drag around than the soldiers.
They’ve got no interest in this nonsense.”
“You have wizards?” Chiaki’s face is bright, and he grabs at Izumi’s hand.
“That’s excellent! I hear they’re both powerful and wise!”
“They’re powerful and kind of silly,” Izumi says, distracted by how warm
Chiaki’s hand still is. “Mm, forgive me, Captain, but they’ve run their mouths
about you a bit. I think one of their friends is in your care.”
“Ah, Kanata, yes!” Chiaki’s smile grows fond, wistful as he looks out towards
the ocean. “He doesn’t come to shore too much anymore, but...mm, if they’re
friends with him, they must be good people.”
“They are. One of them—Shu, is his name—said he was a fellow Nightcloak? I’ll
admit, I don’t know much about wizards…but I know that’s rare. For him to be in
your care, he must trust you very much.” Izumi tilts his head to get a better
look up at Chiaki, and Izumi’s fingers slowly, carefully squeeze around his.
“If you don’t mind, rather than spar, I’d prefer to hear a thing or two about
being an officer in a city like this—“
A cold, bloody hand swings out from a ditch just shy of the gates and grabs
Izumi by the ankle, and he’s never abandoned a man’s hand in favor of drawing
his sword soquickly.
The face that stares up at him is pale, with blood streaking down his face as
if its his matted red hair leaking its color. Izumi recognizes him in an
instant—Mao?—and at his side, clutched tightly to himself, is Ritsu,
unconscious, though not as bloody. “Mao?” Izumi manages, lowering his sword. He
steps back, on edge now, expecting those dreaded bells to start ringing. “Is
there anyone else? How—“
“Later,” Mao rasps, his voice barely audible. “Take care of Ritsu. Now.”
Izumi sheaths his sword. “Help me pull him up,” he orders Chiaki, dropping to
his knees to grab for Mao’s hand.
Mao’s face twists. “Morisawa,” he mutters. “Long time no see.”
Gently, Chiaki kneels, lifting Mao and Ritsu both in his arms as easily as he
might carry a child. His face is set in a stony expression, and he asks
quietly, “Do we prepare for an attack, seekers, wizards, or armies, Isara? Are
there any immediate mortal wounds?”
Mao’s head lolls in an instant, consciousness leaving him.
“Down, put him down,” Izumi quickly insists. That’s new and strange to be able
to feel the way Mao’s temperature suddenly plummets, and his hands are on him
before Chiaki even does as he’s told. Having someone’s life literally in his
hands is fucking terrifying, but—
Ritsu basically saved mine, time to return the favor for what’s his.
 Blood drips steadily over his hands—but from where? Pinpointing is impossible,
and for good reason, when it just seems to keep coming, dripping from Mao’s
nose and ears and out of the corner of his mouth. Poison of some kind, Izumi
can all but taste it in his own mouth when he touches Mao, but nothing like
he’s ever seen or heard of. “Last I heard, the Academy had him,” he mutters
distractedly, wavering for a second, unsure of where to even start, and his
fingers tremble as he finally rests them over Mao’s throat, firmly pressed
against his carotid artery, hoping that will pump whatever his magic can do to
fix this faster through Mao’s body. “I don’t know what they did to him. Ritsu
went to retrieve him, but…”
“Magical poison. I’ve seen it before.” Chiaki’s face tightens in pain, and he
looks down at Mao, memories assaulting him. “Where do I find your wizards? If
you didn’t have a Nightcloak I’d call Kanata, but if there’s one closer,
that’ll be--”
“I felt it.”
Shu’s voice is tight as he runs down the stairs to the courtyard, moving in the
blink of an eye to kneel next to Mao. His eyes unfocus as he reaches out,
laying a hand on Mao’s forehead. His lips move, and he starts mouthing the
words to esoteric spells, drawing on all the useless knowledge he’d acquired
over years, knowing he’s right, knowing that it’s exactly the sort of torture
that the Academy’s employees are partial to doling out. The poison is a
slippery thing, trying to shut down all of Mao’s mental processes, and only the
unexpected strength of the man--why? what’s giving him such strength?--keeps
him from dying before Shu can burn out the poison. Mao hovers on the urge of
braindeath, with Shu working so quickly that violet fire rises around him,
bleeding out his nose and eyes, little puffs cut off by every mumbled word from
his lips. “Whoever you are, whatever you’re doing, if you stop, he’ll be dead
in seconds,” he mutters, getting his magic into a particularly vicious tendril
of power that had burrowed in for hours, likely, and is now wrapped around the
young man’s heart. He burns it--he’s good at burning things, though he doesn’t
relish the activity--and moves on to the next.
That doesn’t exactly instill confidence within Izumi, but it does force him to
focus himself tenfold on his task. “Understood,” he murmurs, eyes lidded and
his nails all but digging into Mao’s skin to make sure his touch isn’t
dislodged. His head pounds—there it is, that’s the dizziness he’s accustomed
to, the shit that used to plague him even if he was wiping a hickey from Leo’s
neck—and Izumi swallows hard, briefly shutting his eyes. “If you can, work
fast.”
Mika’s head warily pokes out into the courtyard, then the rest of him follows,
a wary glance spared towards Chiaki before he silently picks his way over to
Ritsu’s unconscious form. “Unaffected,” he quietly notes, glancing up skyward.
“No one else’s comin’, Master.”
“Keep watch. I--got it, bastard,” Shu hisses, chasing down a particularly
stubborn tendril and not just burning it, but following it to its source, a
writhing mass lodged in the man’s heart. It’s a disgusting, spawning mass, but
it contains the nucleus of the sickly-pulsing power, and with a burst of cool
flame, Shu blasts it out of existence.
The rest of the tendrils fade away, and Shu gasps, falling back in a dizzy
tangle, pulling up Mao’s shirt with a grimace. There’s a black mark over his
heart, like soot, soaked into the skin. “You can stop,” he says, voice sounding
hollow and tinny to his own ears, as if he’d blown out his own eardrums. “If he
survived that, he’ll live. Water.”
Mika quickly kneels, water skin already in hand. “Here, Master, drink,” he
urges, his gaze still skyward. “The bells aren’t even ringin’…”
Izumi sways dangerously, sitting back with a long, shuddering breath. His
vision swims, and the sweat that drips down the back of his neck is at odds
with the cool air around them. “I don’t,” he whispers, “want to ever do that
again.”
But Mao is breathing far easier, at least, and a quick, dizzyingly nervous
glance at Ritsu reveals that he seems…more or less fine, no matter Mao’s
urgings to help him. “I’ve never seen anyone’s sand shift so fast,” Mika says,
voice awed. “I didn’t know it could.”
Shu waves a shaking, pale hand, drinking down the water in a few heady gulps.
“I know. I’m very talented and powerful, keep telling me.”
Chiaki kneels next to Ritsu, reaching down to touch his face. “Someone else
touch him, everyone feels cold to me. His pulse is--strange, is that...”
“It’s a thing.”
Ritsu’s voice comes out cracked and aged, like something that has risen from a
grave after decades of decomposition. His eyes don’t open. “Don’t touch me. Or
I’ll bleed you dry.”
“He’s just like that,” Izumi quickly says, lurching over and quickly pressing
his wrist to Ritsu’s mouth. That’s a task he doesn’t mind—it’s far easier than
actually having to heal something, which just makes him feel like he’s been run
over by a stampede of horses. “Ritsu, it’s Izumi. Drink, it’s fine, it’s fine.”
Fangs dart out, and Ritsu finds a vein unerringly, sucking blood down his
throat until the color returns to his cheeks. Then his eyes open, flaring
scarlet, then settling into something approaching normal, and he slowly
retracts his fangs again. When he speaks, his voice is far more normal.
“Where?”
“High Harbor,” Chiaki answers immediately.
Ritsu’s face flickers, and he moves, crawling to Mao’s side, pulling his head
into his lap. “Shu...you’re good. Thank you.”
“Praise, good, thank you,” Shu says wearily, without much force behind it. “My
lord?”
Ritsu hesitates, then shakes his head, not meeting Shu’s eyes. “Traded himself
for us. I tried to stop him.”
Izumi sways once, then collapses in a dead faint.
“There he goes,” Mika says, rubbing Shu’s back slowly. “Master, you should go
lie down, you worked too hard.” Then, more quietly he adds, “If Rei’s doin’
somethin’ like that, we gotta think of what to do.”
Shu leans back into Mika’s hands, letting his eyes slide closed. “My lord can
take care of himself. He made me promise long ago never to sacrifice myself to
rescue him--like as not he has some plan, a reason for being inside the Academy
to which I am not privy.”
“This is a lot of people unconscious,” Chiaki says frankly. “Should I get
pillows? I’m going to get pillows.”
Mika opens his mouth to tell Chiaki to do something more useful, but words fail
him—as they typically do, around large men that are obviously soldiers—and he
huffs instead, face buried into Shu’s shoulder.
Fortunately, Izumi stirs almost as quickly as he fainted, wincing as he rolls
over, white as a sheet and with a headache that nearly makes him rip his own
head from his neck. “I’m fine,” he says, even though no one has decided to ask.
“Gods, I hate that. Ritsu—“ Scratch that, actually. There’s a look in Ritsu’s
eyes that unsettles him, and he decides not to reach out his hand, for fear
it’ll be bitten off. “If you want help getting him to a room, I’m here,” he
says instead of moving towards him again.
“I have no idea what you did back there,” Chiaki says frankly, “but you look
very pale yourself. You should definitely rest, too. I can take you all to a
nice soft room, but I’d like someone to give me directions, please!”
“I’m good, I can give directions,” Izumi dazedly says, forcing himself up to
his feet. He’s wobbly, but at least still conscious, and he grabs onto Chiaki
when he does sway and threaten to fall over again. Chiaki is so blazingly warm
that his body gives up almost immediately, collapsing against him the rest of
the way. “S-sorry,” he manages, feeling himself tremble, his teeth almost
chattering before he grits them together. “I—gods, I’m so cold.”
“No, come here, it’s fine!” Chiaki scoops Izumi into his arms, holding him
close. “Just point the way, I’m good at carrying. It’s good practice for my
future wife, haha!”
Izumi just groans at that, and slings his arms around Chiaki’s shoulders.
“Yeah, you look like the kind of guy that needs a gorgeous wife,” he grumpily
mutters, and points weakly towards the entryway. “Go in there and…I’ll figure
it out, fuck, you’re warm.”
“It’s clean living and a burning heart full of passion,” Chiaki declares
without a hint of irony or embarrassment, heading for the entryway. “Have you
tried eating raw eggs?”
“No, that’s disgusting,” Izumi says firmly. “I think it’s beyond raw eggs and
passion, I really do. Are you sure you’re human? Ugh, I think it’s down the
hall to those stairs, and up to the right? If I pass out again,” he adds,
“please just leave me to die.”
“Nonsense, I’ll just have to find your true love to kiss you back to life,”
Chiaki says cheerfully, setting off down the stairs and to the left. “You’re a
very resilient person. I like that about you.”
“I’m so much fun when I don’t have to be demon food and life support,” Izumi
bemoans. “I swear. You’re so handsome it’s pissing me off, you know?” Now he’s
sulking and lightheaded—leave it to the world to try and explode again, just
when he thought he’d escape it for a moment—and he huffs into Chiaki’s
shoulder. “Everyone I’ve met in High Harbor is beautiful, that seems so
unlikely and unfair.”
“Maybe you’re just becoming more mature,” Chiaki suggests. “And you’re learning
to see the beauty in everyone. Wait, are you sure this is your chambers? I
think we’re in the food cellars...”
“It’s because you went left instead of—you know what, this is fine. It’s cold
here. You’re warm.” Izumi turns his head, burying his face into Chiaki’s neck.
“Five minutes away from this mess of a war sounds nice.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Chiaki’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet, and he
finds a crate of potatoes, sitting with Izumi on his lap. “We’ll hear the horns
from down here, if they need me. Ah, I suppose real heroes wouldn’t need a
break every now and then, would they? I still have work to do.”
“High Harbor seems so quiet, compared to how the Sandlands and Capital were…but
I guess you’d know better than anyone that isn’t the case, huh?” Izumi settles,
feeling his body temperature slowly come back to normal—which is to say,
slightly cool, but nowhere near the temperature that made him feel like he was
turning to actual ice. “I don’t think there’s any shame in pulling back for a
moment. A second to energize yourself can only help.”
“Usually I get stronger when I’m in a pinch, you know? The harder I try, the
better my body and heart respond. Just...” Chiaki stares at the wall, hands
clenching impotently. “I’ve seen some things lately that made me...start to
question which side a real hero would be on. It’s easier when someone attacks
first, you know? So you know--whichever side has the innocent people screaming,
that’s where you protect.”
“It’s much easier when you decide to just follow one man,” Izumi quietly
agrees, his fingers distractedly curling against the back of Chiaki’s neck,
combing through the ends of his hair. “Luckily, the man I follow is a very good
one. There’s never a question of who’s a hero, if that’s your concern.”
Chiaki gives him a smile, but it doesn’t have the usual brilliance of his
grins. “You know much about the family that used to live here? In this manor?”
“Nothing at all, sorry.”
“They were good people. They ruled here, when I was a boy. The father--he had a
lot of debts, I think? Something like that, they don’t really explain things
like that to minor nobles. My father’s a General in the King’s Army, so we’d
come to dinner here sometimes.”
Chiaki runs his hands back through his hair, making it stand on end. “He had
debts, and he didn’t pay. I think that must have been a hard decision for him,
but...he had a lot of debtors in the Sandlands. They brought their private
forces here. That’s the closest I’ve ever seen to a civil war. What I remember
way more than the war itself was the tension before that. The way everyone held
their kids extra tight, or wouldn’t talk aloud about important stuff.” He looks
over at Izumi, and his smile fades. “It feels like that now.”
This is so much worse, Izumi wants to say, but doesn’t. “I think,” he says,
“it’s been like that for awhile. Even within the Capital. No one wants to talk
about it, but looking back…”
He shrugs, leaning his cheek against Chiaki’s shoulder. “I know, very well,
which men are so far from the side of heroes that it’s laughable. It’s
unfortunate, that even the crown is affected, but…at least now, I think
something can be done about it. I won’t serve a king that has no real good will
in mind for his people.”
“I’ve always been very straightforward with the King,” Chiaki says, wrapping an
arm around Izumi’s shoulders to keep him close and warm. “We’re supposed to
take an oath to serve him above all others. I told him I’ll always serve the
people under my care first. Ha, he didn’t like that at all. If my father hadn’t
been one of his most trusted advisors, he’d probably have killed me. But...”
He shrugs the shoulder not currently acting as a pillow. “I think he must have
a lot of goodness in him, because he agreed.”
“Or your father was too important to piss off, so he kept his mouth shut and
thought you’d do what he said, anyway,” Izumi mutters, nestling more firmly
into Chiaki’s chest. “If he had goodness in him, it’s gone now, or it’s so
crushed beneath the weight of his own stupidity and greed that it’s impossible
to find. He claimed me dead, you know—all to avoid my mother marching in on
him. He’s callous enough to do the same about his own son, and talk about
wedding plans for his next heir instead.”
“I’m sure he’s doing what he thinks is best,” Chiaki says, and in his mouth, it
sounds like the truth. “And I’ll do what I think is best for the people under
my protection. Don’t worry. As long as you’re in High Harbor, I’ll keep you
safe for sure, and all your loved ones.”
“Don’t be an apologist for him,” Izumi complains, slapping a hand against
Chiaki’s chest, pushing away. “I don’t want to hear it. I’ve no more patience
for our corrupt king—in fact, it makes me ill to keep calling him that. He’s
not my king, never has been. Ahh, Captain Arashi’s right, you’re too pure.” 
“But isn’t everyone doing what they think is right?” Chiaki asks, unfazed.
“Even the ones we think are evil--the most evil men I’ve ever fought thought
they were doing what they thought was best. That’s the danger of them.”
“If he condones evil, and allows it to propagate, then as far as I’m concerned,
he’s no better than the shit and corruption that he’s allowing to brew up
within his ranks. I don’t care if he thinks what he’s doing is right. I’ve got
two eyes, I can see that it isn’t.”
“But you can only see from where you’re standing,” Chiaki counters. “If I sent
my fist flying at your face, you’d think I was trying to kill you, but what if
there was something sneaking up behind you that you couldn’t see? Just two eyes
can’t see everything. All I ask is that the men I respect think about every
decision carefully--but if it’s obvious, like protecting someone in danger,
there’s no need to fear or hesitate! Charge right in, and prove your burning
heart!”
“If you’ve got two eyes that have seen a lot of obvious evidence about what the
king has been tolerating and cultivating, then I don’t think there’s any reason
to hesitate about that, either. Believe me, I’ve thought about my decision
carefully.”
Izumi shifts, deciding he’s had enough, and tries to squirm his way out of
Chiaki’s arms. “You’re a little too hellbent on seeing the good in the worst
people for me,” he says. “Healthy cynicism, please look into it.”
“Not for me, but I hope it brings you joy,” Chiaki says sincerely, letting
Izumi go. “For my people, as usual, I’ll keep them safe however I can. Or
anyone that needs my help. Anyway, sorry that I didn’t manage to take you to
your room. Let’s try again some other time!”
Izumi hesitates after climbing to his feet, then sighs, and leans down, tapping
Chiaki’s chin up with one finger and kissing him before he has a chance to say
another word. “Catch me when I’m drinking sometime, then you can go on about
justice and I won’t be so stressed by it,” he wryly says, patting Chiaki’s
cheek before he turns away.
“Thank you, I will!” Chiaki says happily, and heads for the exit himself,
fumbling his way towards a correct passageway. “Good luck, Sir Izumi. May we
always find ourselves on the same side!”
Does that offer count as not failing at a bet? Doubtful, but it’ll still make
for a good story when he’s rubbing Arashi’s feet later. Izumi sighs. “For
everyone’s sake, I hope that’s true,” he offers, turning the opposite way to
escape Chiaki and his veritable furnace of existence.
***** Chapter 24 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
Still firmly within the North, Izumi’s mother threatens to come and visit him
weekly, if he doesn’t write.
There are a few issues with this, namely—there are some things that Izumi
prefers for his mother to not know about. Editing his time in the capital for
content becomes trickier and trickier as time goes by, and after being so
forwardly invited to a proper noble party, it’s rather hard to write a letter
that’s entirely…truthful.
Lord Karn’s wife is beautiful, and pays him far too much attention all night,
while her husband is away. Izumi doesn’t particularly care where her husband
is, because he’s fourteen, and this is a woman prettier than he’s ever seen.
Capital stock, born and bred, she proudly claims, touching his hair and
shoulders, batting her painted eyes, and fixating on her becomes an easy task
for the evening, whereas before, he was a bit on edge and put out at the idea
of a party in the first place. He could have been riding his horse or
practicing, after all.
It isn’t the first time a woman in the capital has taken interest in him, but
it is the first time it’s a proper lady. Maids and servants, those are one
thing, and he has no issue tumbling them when they like the way he teases them
and flips their skirts in passing. He also doesn’t remember their names—but
Lady Karn, he remembers her, and how distractingly soft her hands are when she
keeps petting him all night.
Lord Karn is stationed somewhere far away for the next month, she says, and the
invitation is clear…but how to explain this sort of thing in a letter is not.
Another thing to skip, definitely.
Izumi stumbles out of her bedroom in the wee hours of the morning to trek his
way back across the city and take care of his horse before anyone notices his
absence. He stifles a yawn when he finally arrives, and Vale tosses his head
over the stall door, kicking it angrily because his breakfast is fifteen
minutes late. “Shh, shhh, honestly,” he hisses, hauling over the pail of oats.
“If you weren’t so rude to the stable boys, you could eat on a normal schedule,
but noooo…”
“He’s playing you false,” a merry voice says from the stable loft. A moment
later, the head of the prince, orange and tousled above a huge grin, sticks out
over the side of the loft. “Coran fed him an hour ago, he licked up every stray
oat to make sure the crime was clean.”
“You cheat,” Izumi growls, fixing his horse with an accusatory stare. Vale
doesn’t even look up from where his face is stuffed into his feed trough.
“Wretched beast, you’re going to get too fat. Good morning, Milord,” he wearily
adds, waving a hand up to Leo.
“You look very worn out.”
Leo drops down from the loft without bothering with the ladder, landing lightly
on his feet after a twelve-foot drop. He leans over, poking at Izumi’s chest.
“Too much fun with Lady Karn?”
Izumi’s mouth opens, then shuts, and he huffily bats Leo’s hand away. “I could
use a bit more sleep,” he carefully says. “You’re speaking very loudly,
Milord.”
“Are you drunk? It isn’t even noon yet.” Leo folds his arms. “I don’t know how
they do things in the North, but here people show a lot more respect, or they
get dunked in the horse trough.”
“I can assure you I was respectful to her all night, Milord,” Izumi dryly says,
rolling his eyes as he takes a step back, turning himself to the task of
brushing out his stupid fat horse’s mane. “Very respectful.”
“You’re--you’re going to get in trouble.” Leo moves around to face Izumi,
glaring as self-righteously as only a fourteen-year-old prince can manage. “You
can’t just sleep with a noble lady! It’s wrong, she’s married--and honestly,
she’s old!”
“Now who’s the disrespectful one, Milord?” Izumi mildly shoots back, picking
his way through Vale’s already almost-pristine mane with a comb. “She’s very
beautiful.”
“She’s over thirty, and you’re not even half that!”
“So? She’s very beautiful. She invited me to her bed, it’s not as if I forced
myself upon her.”
“Izumi...” Leo stares at him, head cocked, as if Izumi is something he’s never
seen before. “It’s wrong, to sleep with a married woman. Her husband’ll come
after you--and he’s an adult, he’s an officer, and Father will have to let
him.”
“Then let him,” Izumi scoffs, unconcerned. “He can challenge me and I’ll win.
Maybe he shouldn’t leave his wife so unsatisfied, then, he’s brought it on
himself.”
“You’re--you can’t be that callous. This could destroy their marriage, are you
that in love with her?”
“In love with her? Gods, no,” Izumi laughs, leaning against Vale’s shoulder as
he looks back at Leo. “She’s a lovely woman, but I don’t particularly care.
She’s…we’re having fun, Milord. You know, like you aren’t allowed to?” he
teases, leaning over to pull on the tail of Leo’s hair. “So I’m doing it for
the both of us.”
Leo’s face tightens unhappily, and he reaches over for Vale’s tail, starting to
braid it, somehow without being kicked to pieces. “There’s fun that wouldn’t
mean you’re going to get challenged to duels. Or that you’re hurting people’s
feelings, or breaking up marriages. Just...Lord Karn isn’t a reasonable man.
What if he tries to stab you or something? I’m your friend, I’m concerned, you
should care!”
“I care that you’re concerned, and I appreciate the concern,” Izumi says
earnestly, giving Vale’s shoulder a rub to reward his good behavior. Not
kicking the prince is a good thing. “I have plenty of fun that’s also like
that. I haven’t broken up anyone’s marriage, honestly, and Lord Karn can come
at me all he wants. I’ve seen him duel before, he’s nothing impressive.”
“You talk like you’re the best in the realm. You’re not. I beat you all the
time.”
“You used to beat me all the time, Milord, now it’s a split fifty-fifty. And
that’s only because you’ve had fancy tutors since you were four.”
“Just because our last duel was a draw does not make it fifty-fifty,” Leo
protests. “I beat you the three times before, you’re just making things up!”
“Sorry, are you forgetting our mounted duels as well? Just because your horse
is afraid of Vale doesn’t mean they don’t count,” Izumi hums. “Milord, I swear
I’ll be fine. It’s going to be all called off before he returns home, anyway.
I’m not interested in wedding her. I thought the capital was the place to have
this sort of fun, and now I’m being scolded…”
“You’re being scolded because you’re not listening to your prince,” Leo says,
sticking his tongue out and trying to fetch Izumi a kick, even as he tries not
to smile. “I don’t think anywhere is the place to have that sort of fun,
anyway. I hate hearing rumors about you.”
“Rumors? About me? Like what?” Izumi teases, grabbing Leo by the arm to haul
him closer. “My apologies, Your Highness, for not obeying your every word.
Shall I kneel  and have you berate me properly?”
“It’d serve you right if I said yes,” Leo mutters darkly, poking Izumi in the
forehead, standing his ground even if he has to tilt his head up to do it.
“I’ve heard all sorts--that you’re trying to repopulate the Capital with
Northern bastards, that you’ll tumble girls as old as grannies, that you’ll
even lie with the beasts in the stables if there’s no women around!”
“Oh, but all of those rumors are ridiculous, so they’re obviously untrue,”
Izumi says dismissively. “And undoubtedly spread by insecure men. Talk to
women, and the rumors are much nicer and more accurate.”
“I’m not really allowed to talk to women much,” Leo grouses. “See, if I tumbled
a girl, it could start a war, as my tutors are so fond of reminding me.”
“Your tutors make me tired,” Izumi bluntly says, mussing Leo’s hair. “Didn’t
they yell at you the other day because they thought I was a woman from behind?”
“That wasn’t even the first time. Oh, and remember last week’s Midsummer Ball,
when I was supposed to ask Lady Ortella to dance? They said I looked at Lady
Arla before I offered Lady Ortella my hand, so I had to make three formal
apologies in writing--to both ladies, and to Lady Ernossa for not glancing at
her, because she’s higher in rank than Lady Arla, and if I were going to snub
anyone for someone, it should have been for her.” Leo scowls, and braids more
of Vale’s tail. “Don’t ever become a prince. It’s balls.”
“And this is why I’m having fun for both of us. That sounds ridiculous.” Izumi
shakes his head, and turns back of the task of combing out his horse’s mane.
“You know, in the North, all you have to worry about is if they’re common or
noble.”
Leo sighs. “I can’t wait until I go up there for a year. You’ll have to be my
guide, of course. Tell me who not to look at.”
“I mean, it’s pretty simple up there,” Izumi wryly says. “You’ve got one noble
house. You can chase any of us that you like—well, there’s three people left in
it, so it’s myself, my mother, and my aunt, and my mother’s off-limits for any
men as far as I’m concerned, so you’ve got two choices. Don’t look at my aunt,
she’s a bitch. Makes it easy, huh?”
Leo’s chest flutters. Don’t be an idiot, he means it makes it easy to choose no
one at all, you horny fool.“Yeah, I understand,” he manages, fingers flying
through the braid. “Heh, I’ll get about as much action up there as down here.
Maybe my chances are better in the Sandlands after all, eh?”
Nothing, huh? Izumi rolls his eyes to himself, repressing his irritation.
Sheltered capital nobles are stressful. “I don’t know anything about the
Sandlands other than whores exist. Personally, prostitutes don’t do it for me,
but maybe you can find yourself someone pretty, Milord.”
“It’d probably be my only chance to bed a woman before I’m married,” Leo says
glumly. “Oi, tell me what it feels like. In great detail. Like, an embarrassing
amount of detail that makes even your cold cheeks blush.”
“I don’t blush,” Izumi snorts, finishing off his combing and stepping back to
examine his work. “Especially not about that. What do you want to know first?
Tits are all right, but thighs are what’s really nice, especially when they
wrap around you all soft and creamy when you’re putting it in…”
Despite his bold words, it’s Leo who feels his cheeks flush--though it’s less
due to the words, and more to the stray thought that I have thighs, too.
“What’s it like...you know. Inside? No one will tell me properly, just that
it’s nice.”
“That’s because you’re a prince, and no one wants to dirty your cute, innocent
ears,” Izumi says with a laugh, turning around to lean against Vale’s enormous
side. “It’s like…hmm. No woman’s the same, but if you’ve riled them up
properly, everything’s all warm and wet and squeezing around you. Like—here,
give me your hand.”
“I...all right.” Leo’s face flushes so deeply red that it’s nearly painful, and
hesitantly, he raises his hand. Whatever Izumi is about to do, he desperately
wants to feel it.
You really shouldn’t be teasing him this much,the last, logical little bit of
his mind sing-songs, but Izumi can’t really help himself, and that’s why
bringing Leo’s hand to his mouth and wrapping his lips around a pair of those
fingers is inevitable. When else is he going to get a chance? Maybe using his
tongue to thoroughly wet them isn’t explicitly what it feels like when he’s in
a woman, but his mouth being warm and wet when he sucks on them is probably
close enough. “Like that,” Izumi breathes, eyes dancing, releasing them with a
pop and a last little flick of his tongue. “More or less.”
Leo stares at Izumi for a long minute, as his cock attempts to punch a hole
through his breeches. Finally, he remembers to breathe again, and stammers out,
“I’m g-going to jump in the trough,” dashing out through the stall doors to do
exactly that with an enormous splash.
Izumi blinks, then shrugs, examining the braid in Vale’s tail to find it to be
satisfactory before he walks out of the stall after him. “Anyway, that’s what
it feels like, Milord,” he calls, grinning and pleased with himself. “And I
guess a girl’s mouth isn’t much different than a boy’s, so you’ve got a decent
impression of that, too!”
“Keep your voice down or I’ll drag you in here and drown you!”
“Ooh, sounds scary. You know I like cold water, right?” Izumi saunters closer.
“And I could use a bath after last night. Scoot over, Milord, I’ll happily join
you.”
Leo scowls, then scoots over, elaborately bowing to the empty parts of the
trough. “Serve you right if I pissed in it and left.”
“Why? What did I do wrong?” Izumi complains, and hops in, unconcerned about the
cold. “I told you what you wanted to know, didn’t I? Maybe this is why no one
will tell you anything.”
“You sucked on my fingers, pervert. This is why no one will trust you even with
a cat in private!”
“You wanted to know what it felt like, so I showed you!” Izumi pouts, and
reaches up to pull his hair free of its tie, raking his fingers through it
before he tilts his head back to dunk it in the water. “That’s not perverted,
that’s helpful.”
“Maybe up in the lawless North,” Leo says with a snort, splashing Izumi. “Boys
don’t suck on each others’ fingers down here.”
Izumi frowns at him, and stretches a leg over, kicking him in the hip. “So I’ve
noticed. In the North, no one cares, if you get married and carry on your line.
If you’re a second or third son, you don’t even have to do that, you can just
run off with a man.”
Take me there, please. Leo clamps his jaw down on that longing, looking away
with another shove to Izumi’s shoulder, just to keep up appearances. “No wonder
everyone talks about you, if that’s the kind of immoral nonsense you grew up
on.”
“It’s not immoral,” Izumi snorts, pointedly shoving down the irritation that
wants to bubble up with those words. “It’s a preference. Girls kiss girls, boys
kiss boys, boys kiss girls, who even cares. It’s a much easier way of being, if
you ask me.”
“Keep your voice down,” Leo says, suddenly hushed. “If the priests hear you,
you’ll be forced into penance, heir of your house or no. They don’t like that
sort of talk.” He growls a little, folding his arms on the edge of the trough.
“Grandfather gave them too much power. Father started backing the Academy to
put them back in their place, but now the Academy’s getting powerful. At least
they don’t give a toss who you kiss.”
Izumi rolls his eyes, flopping back against the other end of the trough. “I
think it’s all ridiculous,” he bluntly says. “When you’re king, tell everyone
to get over it and just kiss whoever they like. The North’s had that part
figured out for awhile—but maybe you should wait to figure that out when you go
visit, hmm?”
He hauls himself out of the trough with a flip of his hair, wringing it out and
leaving it loose, unconcerned that he’s dripping wet everywhere else, with his
clothes clinging to him. “My mother would think you’re a delight, at least.”
“Well, I hope so,” Leo says with a sigh, standing as his body is in proper
states now. “Especially since she’s one of the three people I’m allowed to kiss
up there. Clearly, you are a more enlightened people.”
“Two people, remember? My mother’s off-limits.” Izumi smiles, and leans over,
patting Leo’s shoulder. “My bitch of an aunt, and me. Ah, but she’s no fun, and
you think I’m immoral, so—I guess no one works at all.”
“I didn’t say I think--I said the priests--I said people were talking, I didn’t
say I was one of them,” Leo mutters, giving Izumi a swift punch to the
shoulder.
“Then maybe, Milord, you should just start telling me what you think, instead
of regurgitating the words people I don’t give a damn about.”
“I did. You didn’t listen. So, open your ears.” Leo puts his hands on Izumi’s
shoulders, squeezing hard, looking into his eyes. “I think trifling with
married women is bad, and I think only bad things will come from it. I think
you’re far too beautiful to have to worry about not having enough partners. And
I think that if anything bad ever happens to you because of this hobby and I
didn’t say something, I’ll lose my best friend for being a coward.”
He thinks I’m beautiful, Izumi’s mind giddily remains stuck on until he snaps
himself out of that with a shake of his head. “If something bad happens, you’ve
warned me,” he simply says, his expression wry as he reaches up to squeeze one
of Leo’s hands. “It’s not like I planned on this. I’m not saying I won’t take
your advice, either. So…thank you for being worried, Milord. If it does turn
sour, I promise I’ll bow out. All right?”
Leo lets out a huge exhale, squeezing Izumi’s hands back. For just a moment, he
has the mad idea that he could kiss Izumi and no one would stop him--Izumi
doesn’t care, and there’s no one else here--but he hasn’t lived this long by
being an idiot prince. He smiles, ducking his head, and then shakes his whole
body out. discarding those feelings where he stands. “I’ll leave those thoughts
in the stable. We can only talk about them in here, all right?”
“As you wish, Milord. I’m assuming the next time you ask me about women,
however, you do not want a demonstration that apparently leads you to jumping
into a trough.”
Leo pauses, then says finally, “Not unless we’re in the stables. Preferably in
the stall with your enormous and ill-tempered horse that will keep everyone
else away.”
Izumi’s mind immediately wants to take that to dirtier places, but… “Noted,
noted. Aren’t you lucky that he loves you so much?”
“Mm, he makes me think it might be worth it to ride a stallion. I mean, I know
he isn’t one, but...” Leo shrugs, and winks, pulling his hands away. “I just
think it might be fun to take a big stallion for a ride sometime. Ah, I’m late
to my lessons, farewell!” And with that, he runs out the door, quick as a cat.
Izumi stares after him, then jumps back into the trough.
***** Chapter 25 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
“My, but the poor child had promise, didn’t he?”
Leo’s uncle’s words echo in his ears as he dashes through the halls of the
Palace, the soles of his feet slapping the cold stone.Izumi can heal anything,
he tells himself, heading towards the stables. He isn’t sure why he’s so sure
that Izumi is there instead of in his chambers, but he’s as sure as he’s ever
been about anything. Rodan’s voice had been impressed, but pitying, and no
wonder--the whole court had seen Lord Karn lunge forward, his ear bleeding
freely, rage transfixing his face, rapier extended all the way through Izumi’s
gut, bloody tip extending out the other side of his back.
The murmurs around the court had been divided. Plenty of the nobles would have
been pleased to see Izumi taken down a notch, after he’d made no secret of
being willing to sleep with noble ladies and flaunt it. After seeing him take a
notch out of Lord Karn’s ear, they’d tittered, amused, and cheered for him as
being so audacious as to be adorable.
And then Lord Karn had struck. It was a non-regulation move, and one that had
earned him a host of boos from the crowd. Not illegal, but non-regulation, the
sort of thing that would have one disqualified from a show fight, but in a duel
was simply poor sportsmanship.
There’s a Healer in the Palace, but everyone knows that Healers are good for
killing pain and soothing sickness, not for traumatic wounds or anything fast-
acting. They’d rung for him, but by the time he’d showed up, Izumi had been
gone.
And now Leo is following what he assumes is the trail, bursting into the
stables, chest heaving. “Izumi?” he calls, trying not to sound frantic. He
healed my arm, surely he won’t die from this.“Bastard page, where are you?”
“Here.”
The reply is a tired, breathless one, and Izumi’s pale hand stretches out over
the top of his horse’s stall. Inside, he’s dragged in a bale of hay, which
resulted in Vale eating it out from underneath him—slowly, as if he actually
gives a damn about his master’s wounds.
This one aches. It had been frightening, truth be told, to be struck like that.
It hurts more than anything Izumi remembers, and bled so much that he could
taste it. His blood-soaked shirt is slung over the door of the stall, and his
fingers absently drag over the still-closing wound, fascinated now that he’s at
least mostly certain he isn’t going to die. “That’s enough yelling, Milord,” he
adds, tilting his head back until it thunks against the wood behind it. “I’m
all right.”
Leo vaults the stall door in a heartbeat, dropping down to his knees,
fingertips resting on Izumi’s stomach, but nowhere near the wound. “It’s--you
can heal it, right?” he asks, trying to swallow down the rest of his panic. “It
doesn’t look that bad, but gut wounds can take a long time to kill--it went
right through you, are you--are you sure you’re--”
“It doesn’t look that bad because it’s already healing up. Ah, ow, don’t touch,
everything’s sore,” Izumi groans, twisting away unhappily. He feels sick to his
stomach, even if he’s already vomited twice (things he won’t tell Leo, that’s
not cool). “It hurt like hell, I’m not going to lie,” he quietly admits. “But I
think it’s fine. I know there’s a lot of blood, but it stopped not too long
ago.”
“You were so impressive,” Leo whispers, because it’s so much better to say that
than to give voice to his nerves. Izumi is still talking, still breathing, and
that’s enough for right now. It’s more than the Healers could do for him,
anyway. “My uncle said you have a lot of promise, and he’s the best swordsman
in the realm.”
“Yeah? He’s all right, I guess,” Izumi flippantly dismisses, exhaling a ragged
little laugh to dispel some of his lingering nerves. His stomach flip-flops
again, and he sucks in a shuddering breath. “Hold on,” he says, and leans to
the side, pushing his hair back before he empties what’s left of his stomach
into the bucket he already dragged into the stall with him for that explicit
purpose.
Now, light-headed, shivering, but not feeling quite as ill, Izumi wipes his
mouth, flopping back. “I don’t recommend getting stabbed in the gut,” he
breathes. “Gods, fuck him. I turned his lunatic wife down for the last week.
She wanted me to run away with her.”
“Just because you’re not currently bedding her doesn’t mean he doesn’t have the
right to challenge you,” Leo points out, though his fingers are still
frantically petting gently over Izumi’s sides, far away from the wound. “I
warned you, didn’t I? Have you learned your lesson yet about tumbling married
women?”
“That’s…that’s not what I’m saying, I’m just saying he’s stupid, he tried to
say I was still fucking her, gods, he’s dumb,” Izumi bemoans. “He deserved to
fucking lose like that. Asshole. Go…go get some rags or something. As much as I
like you touching me, you’re making me nervous and I want to wipe all this
blood off to see what it looks like now.”
Leo scurries out of the stall, climbing quickly up to the loft, grabbing a wad
of cloth and dropping back down, pressing it over the wound. “Ah, you probably
wanted cleaner ones, but this is all that’s at hand--do you want my shirt?”
“I’m not staining your clothes with blood, I’ll get fucking killed for real,”
Izumi mutters, shakily grabbing the cloth away from him and dunking it into
Vale’s water bucket. “Sorry,” he apologizes to the horse, who pointedly doesn’t
even look at him, and Izumi squeezes some of the water down over his stomach,
letting it loosen that blood up before he carefully starts wiping it away. It
still feels sore and fresh, and he gnaws a hole through his lower lip when he
cleans it, but the actual wound itself is almost completely gone now, appearing
as little more than a cat’s scratch across pale skin. “Pretty cool, huh?” he
breathes. “Ah, gods, it still hurts, but…”
Leo’s eyes are huge in his head, and he sits down heavily on the hay bale.
“Gods. You really are blessed by the gods.”
“Something like that.” Izumi gingerly prods around the scratch, but withdraws
his touch with an angry hiss. “Ow, ow, it still hurts inside so much. I guess
that heals more slowly. I’ve never had an injury like this before.”
Despite himself, Leo giggles, covering his mouth with one hand. “I just thought
of how angry Lord Karn is going to be when you swagger in to Court tomorrow.”
“Still clutching his bleeding ear, no doubt,” Izumi says with a laugh, no
matter how it makes him wince. “He deserves it! I wouldn’t’ve let that affair
go on for so long if he hadn’t honestly been awful to her. As it is, I have no
pity for him; he deserves every bit of this.”
“But you’ll stop now, right?” Leo asks, urgently. “Trifling with married women?
Servingmaids are just as tight between the thighs, or so I hear.”
“Can we not talk about this right now?” Izumi begs. “I’m a champion, I defeated
a lord in an official duel. Milord, spoil me, I’m sore and tired.”
“Fine, fine, have it your way. How would you like to be spoiled, eh?”
“I don’t knooow.” Izumi lists to the side, knocking his head against Leo’s
shoulder. “Praise me. Tell me I’m still worthy of being your squire.”
“Fool. I’d want you as my squire even if you couldn’t hold a sword, because of
your heart.” Leo turns his head, pressing his face to Izumi’s hair. It’s not a
kiss if it’s his mouth and cheek, he reasons. “But watching you took my breath
away. It was almost frightening, in an arousing sort of way. I heard lots of
women saying they’d kill themselves if you died.”
In an arousing sort of way. Hearing Leo say that makes his heart thud too-fast,
but Izumi represses the urge to grab him and make good on those words by
kissing him. His fingers twitch. He almost doesn’t stop himself. Adrenaline
still makes him stupid, he knows. “Yeah? That’s fair, I’m beautiful.” Izumi’s
eyes lid, and he allows himself the luxury of curling both of his hands around
Leo’s arm, feeling the easy, warm strength of him. “I meant it, back then. I’m
not going to be anyone else’s squire, not until you take me as yours.”
Leo exhales slowly, and nods. “I’ll swear to make you my squire when Father
dies or retires, then. But you know that it might be quite a while, right?
You’ll have far more renown and opportunities if you let someone else be your
master. I’ll still ask the Captain of my Kingsguard to appoint you to the
guard, no matter what. I don’t want you to sacrifice your ambitions for a
gamble, even if I...”
“It’s not a gamble.” Izumi rubs his cheek against Leo’s shoulder. He can get
away with this right now. He’s all dizzy and exhausted. “My ambitions
include…mm, being yours, and, well, being yours. And maybe having at least four
horses as excellent as Vale. And staying beautiful. At least let me accomplish
one of those.”
“Well, I don’t think there are any horses in the world as excellent as Vale,”
Leo says with a mock frown, petting Izumi’s fluffy hair. “So it’s down to two,
like my kissing options in the North. I’ll know what you picked if I ever see
you ugly, eh?”
“I could tolerate being ugly if it meant I could serve you.”
The words leave his mouth before he can stop them, and Izumi flushes, swatting
Leo’s hands away as he sits back abruptly. “Healing like this makes me feel
drunk. Please don’t ever repeat the shit I’m saying right now, okay? I’ll die
if you tease me about it later.”
“Eh? Do you not want to really serve me?” Leo pets Izumi’s hair more firmly. “I
want you to desperately, you know. I’m a really selfish prince. I’m trying to
talk about you and your ambition and whatever, but really I just want you to
serve me and only me, because I love you.”
“No, I meant the ugly part, I—“ Izumi tries to swat Leo’s hands away one last
time, then gives up, and slowly slithers down until he just stretches across
Leo’s lap. “I’m never going to serve anyone other than you. No one can make me,
I’ll turn them all down.”
“You’ll make enemies. I don’t know if you care about that, after today, but you
will.”
“I’ve already made enemies, Leo. Sorry. Milord.”
“I know.” The startlement of hearing his given name makes Leo flush, and he
asks, hesitantly, “Is that how you think of me? In your mind, as Leo?”
“Yes. Traitorous, I know,” Izumi mutters, embarrassed. “It’s a good name.”
Leo’s mouth quirks up at one corner. “I thought...everyone just thought of me
as The Prince, capital letters included.”
“Sorry, I’ve seen you fall off of Vale’s back too many times for that to be
true.”
Leo laughs, and discreetly peers around at Izumi’s stomach. “It’s gone
completely, not even a line. Gods, that’s incredible. You’re never going to get
ugly, even if you go to war.”
“Seriously? Thank the gods,” Izumi murmurs, rolling slowly onto his back, and
giving his stomach another, delicate poke. It doesn’t immediately hurt now, but
it’s still sore, as if he’d been kicked in the stomach. “I hope Lord Karn is
pissed enough to try and challenge me again.”
“Don’t go flaunting that,” Leo warns. “Ugh, I feel like I’m always scolding you
because you’re behaving so badly! This is awful, you’re supposed to be my cute
wife, not the other way around!”
Izumi blinks, then slowly, sweetly smiles up at him (too sweetly), reaching for
the tail of Leo’s hair to gently tug it. “I can be a cute wife. Do you want to
see me in a dress, Milord?”
“Yes. And I’m going to commission a portrait of it.”
“Why do that when I’ll just wear one for you? You need a proper dancing partner
at the next ball that isn’t going to make you write apology letters, don’t
you?”
Leo opens his mouth, then closes it again. “I mean. It would be nice. I do have
to dance with people all the same, you know, but it...hmm.” His smile turns
dreamy, and he looks out through a window. “It would almost be like a faerie
story, wouldn’t it? Like Lovely Elza and the Twelve Balls of Autumn. Will you
be my secret dancing lover? It would scandalize the whole court, but it might
be worth it.”
“Get me a wig and they’ll be none the wiser.” Izumi hesitates, then sighs as he
slowly heaves himself up into a sitting position, raking a hand back through
his hair to muss it. “I know the girls’ part better, anyway,” he confesses, his
cheeks flushing. Yes, this is the kind of secret one tells when experiencing
wha should be a mortal wound, he thinks. “My mother desperately wanted a
daughter. I trained extensively as a dancer, right up until I came to the
capital.”
“What? And you’ve never let me see you dance?” Leo flicks Izumi in the
shoulder. “I’m wounded. I’ve showed you all of my talents. I should compose
something for you to dance to.”
“I’ll die,” Izumi groans, wiping his hands down his face. “Why do you think I
had no formal training with a sword until I came to the capital proper? You
can’t ever repeat any of this, I’ll hunt you down.”
“I’m not hard to find!” Leo hesitates, then pulls a knife out of his sock,
looking Izumi in the eye. Then he rests it at his own heart, and grabs Izumi’s
hand, closing it over the hilt. “You don’t ever have to threaten me. If you
want me dead, if I’ve ever fallen that low...I’ll help you.”
“Leo—Milord—“ Izumi falters, and jerks his hand back, taking the knife with
him. “Don’t say things like that,” he scolds, stabbing the knife into the hay
bale. “I was mostly teasing you, you know. I’d…I’d die for you.”
“Okay, but give me my knife back, it was a present from my mom.”
“Don’t just hold it at your heart, then!” Izumi snaps, shoving it back over to
him. “You talk about scolding me for bad behavior—I have to scold you all the
time for being like this!”
Leo sheathes the knife, tucking it back into his boot. “But I’m not worried,
when it’s you. Why should I be? No one takes better care of me than you.”
“Try to remember that more often, would you?” Izumi mutters. He chews on his
lower lip, then says something very stupid. “Anyway. Don’t be surprised if you
actually have a partner that can dance properly at your next party. It’s not
like I’ll be welcome in my own skin for a bit, heh.”
“Mm, you should definitely lie low for a while. I know you’re fine, but it’ll
be very suspicious if everyone else sees that you’re fine.” Leo slips an arm
around Izumi’s waist, pulling him close. They’re friends. He can do that, he
thinks. “I’m still worried they’ll send you away, if they find out.”
“I won’t let them find out. I’ll give it a day or two, at least.” This is fine.
This is how friends touch. Well, maybe in the North, but in the capital…Izumi
shrugs it off, leaning into the pull, unable to hide how pleased he is. “It
missed all vital organs, you see,” he says with a bat of his eyelashes. “A
miracle. I’ll even cut myself again before I show up at court, so it still
looks fresh enough. I’ve been lurking underneath the rug for this long,
L—Milord, sorry, I can do it now still.”
Leo laughs, and pulls back, tousling Izumi’s hair. “Can you control it? Make it
look like a two-days-old wound? I have no idea how it works, honestly.”
“If I really focus on it, I can slow the healing down,” Izumi admits, pushing
his bangs half-heartedly out of his face after Leo’s mussing. “I’ve played
around with it, a little. Best to know, if I’m going to rely on it at all.”
“Just don’t hurt yourself on purpose.” Leo feels like he’s at a loss, unable to
go too long without touching Izumi, and he nudges his shoulder into Izumi. “I
have a feeling you’ll collect enough hurts on your own without help.”
“I’ve gotten pretty good at that.” Izumi shifts underneath the nudge, and he
nearly gives in. It would be so easy to do it, to grab Leo and kiss him and
finally find out if his lips are as soft as they look…
He’s the prince, you idiot, don’t go there.
 “I—“ Izumi swallows, then shakes his head. “Never mind. Ah, you should head
back. You can let them know I’ve just run off, so I don’t need that healer.
I’ll take Vale and go and they won’t know either way.”
“All right.” For a moment, Leo feels as if there’s an odd charge in the air, as
if something important had almost happened. But the next second it passes, and
he grins again, heading off for the castle. “Take care of yourself, bastard
page. My bastard page.”
Izumi shudders, and tries to think of anything but Leo’s stupid, gorgeous
everything.
***** Chapter 26 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
Mao wakes, and pain explodes behind his eyes.
For a moment, his head aches so badly that he thinks he’s at the Academy still.
He thinks Keito is there, staring at him so disapprovingly that his heart
twists, curling and wrapping further around that magical poison.
Then, he feels the bed underneath him, and shuts his eyes tighter, the already
dim light of the room too much right now.
Ritsu. Where?
 Thinking back, did he say anything during the interrogation that the Academy
could actually use? He hopes not. He can’t remember beyond struggling to make
sure his mouth stayed shut. There’s even a sore spot in the middle of his
tongue where he’d bitten it so hard that he came close to biting it in two.
That would’ve been better than spilling anything useful.
But what about Ritsu?
 He groans, rolling onto his side, then slowly, painstakingly forcing himself
up to an elbow before he wobbles and collapses back down. Well. The one godsend
about this is he probably doesn’t work for the Academy anymore, so he doesn’t
have any strict deadlines at the moment.
“Oh, you’re awake!” Ritsu’s face slowly looms into view from his other side,
and cool hands grab at Mao’s, squeezing them tight, even as his eyes blink
sleepily. “Ahhh....why couldn’t you have woken up at night, when I have energy?
Come back to sleep.”
“Because normal humans wake during the day,” Mao mutters, grimacing at the
sound of his voice, hoarse and rough from lack of use. Ritsu, alive and well,
looking entirely undamaged, makes him relax. The grip of Ritsu’s hands is
strong, far stronger than he can grip back, and he turns his face into a
pillow. “How long until they find us?”
“Long.” Ritsu’s eyes sting, and he looks away. “They can’t spare any men. If
they do--he’ll get away, they know it.”
Mao pauses, feeling a surprising lack where normally, he can always feel the
odd tug of the Demon King. Cut, neatly, setting him free of his pact—that’s not
what he wants to wake up to, not when he vaguely remembers the rest of why.
“…I’m sorry. If I hadn’t been stupid, I would’ve just killed myself after I got
caught. Then you could’ve had your brother.”
“I do.” Ritsu forces a little smile, and curls up, head on Mao’s heart, just
where that ugly burn mark lingers. “I took it from you. The pact. He let me.
Now I can talk to him, at least, even if they’ve got him right now. I’ll get
him out, though, and you’re safe.”
“…The Academy’s not going to let him go easily.” Every single part of him feels
sore, but Mao bites down a complaint, and instead, gingerly slides his arms
around Ritsu to pull him closer. “It was only a matter of time, I guess,” he
murmurs. “Still. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. You lost me my brother, so that’s bad,” Ritsu says with a yawn. “You’ll
have to take his place.” He nuzzles at the bottom of Mao’s jaw, eyes lidded.
“Little bit different, though.”
“Um,” Mao wearily says, not even having that much of a desire to argue with
Ritsu’s logic. “I should hope it’s different. Where are we, anyway? How safe
are we? How am I alive, exactly? You know, every single time you shift on my
chest, I have trouble breathing.”
“Oh. That’s lame.” Ritsu considers moving to the side, but Mao is warm and
comfortable. “Well, let me know if your breath stops completely, I guess. Mm,
we’re in High Harbor. It’s my brother’s estate, but there’s puppet nobility
running it. Puppets like they’re not real nobles, not like they’re actual
puppets.”
“…So how safe is that?” Mao lowly presses. “I didn’t know about this place, but
there’s nothing to say the Faerie doesn’t, or some other old associate of your
brother’s. Ah—s-seriously, sorry.” He winces, shifting sideways, gently
dislodging Ritsu. “That hurts like hell.” The tightness in his chest doesn’t go
away immediately, and he shuts his eyes, exhaling a slow, shaky breath. “This
better be temporary, I’m too young to be magic-scarred.”
“You’re whiny,” Ritsu complains, rolling off the bed to lay on the floor. “You
got rescued from torture and death, and all you’re doing is complaining because
you got a sexy scar, super rude.”
Mao feels his patience start to fray. “You’re right. I’m terribly ungrateful.”
He shuts his eyes, rolling onto his side. “I didn’t say you had to get off the
bed, just that you couldn’t lie on me right now.”
“Too late. I’m down here. You didn’t even apologize for getting caught and
making me worried.” Ritsu sniffs, rubbing his nose on his sleeve. “I flew for
you. I haven’t done that in thirty years.”
“I did apologize. That was the second thing I said, after ‘how long until they
find us’?” Mao heaves a long sigh, draping his arm off the side of the bed.
“Ritsu. You didn’t have to do any of that, I’m sorry you did.”
“I’m not sorry. I wanted you to be safe. I’d do it again. Ehhh, but my wings
are sore, you should rub them for me.”
Ritsu turns his head to the side, nuzzling against Mao’s hand, eyes closing.
“Does your chest hurt seriously a lot?”
“I’ll rub your wings.” Mao’s fingers limply curl against Ritsu’s cheek, then
back up through his hair, gently petting him. “It feels like I inhaled smoke
for days—that kind of tightness. Hopefully it’ll go away, but I know a thing or
two about magic scars, and I don’t like any of it.”
“I actually don’t know that much about magic scars,” Ritsu admits. “But I bet
Izumi can take care of that for you. Mm, you should leave the mark, though.
It’s really sexy.”
“It’s a common side effect from anyone that has been magically poisoned. I’ve
seen it a few times firsthand, in the Academy, being around for some
interrogations myself. Localized numbness or pain if it’s a limb that was
heavily involved, blindness…and I guess in this case, because it went for the
kill…” Mao trails off, his eyes lidding, and his fingers curl against Ritsu’s
scalp. “I didn’t say anything about you. Or your brother. I hope you can
believe me.”
“I believe you,” Ritsu says immediately, because it’s true. He nuzzles against
Mao’s hand, reaching up to brush Mao’s hair back from his face. “Are you blind?
Why’d they let it go for the kill, if they were trying to torture you? Man,
they’re no good at their jobs.”
“Not blind,” Mao reassures him. “Just hurts when I breathe, because that’s
helpful. Ah, I think they realized I was useless, after awhile. They used the
worst poison and I just tried to bite my tongue in two so I couldn’t say
anything.”
“Rude. The only one biting your tongue in two should be me. You don’t even have
the fangs for it.”
“Ritsu…will you please just get back on the bed? You’re going to get cold down
there.”
“I’ve lived alone for hundreds of lives of mankind,” Ritsu drones, voice
sepulchral. “Now I am alone again, for Mao does not desire my body.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. If you’re not going to get on the
bed, then I’m done petting you.”
Ritsu’s eyes snap open, and he climbs back onto the bed, grumbling to himself
as he winds his arms around Mao’s waist, taking care to rest his head on Mao’s
arm this time instead of his chest. “Not negotiable.”
“Better,” Mao murmurs, draping an arm back around Ritsu to slowly pet down his
back. “Now, are you going to do me the favor of explaining your fixation, or
keep up the mystique of being a half-blood for the rest of your life?”
“Please elaborate, which of my strange parts are we talking about?”
“The part where you call me your mate and generally threaten everyone else with
bodily harm if they come near me.”
“Oh.” Ritsu closes his eyes, snuggling closer. “Do you hate it when I talk like
that?”
“No. I’d just prefer to understand what you mean, when you say that sort of
thing.” Mao’s fingers still against the back of Ritsu’s neck. “I’m a human,
remember? There’s a limit to what I know and can feel naturally.”
“I know. I just...hmm. I thought you might like it if I put it in demon terms.”
Ritsu feels his pulse adjusting, beating more slowly, regulating himself to
Mao’s pulse. It feels natural like that. “You’ve lived around wizards for a
long time. You know how they can feel a resonant bond?”
“The Emperor would like us to believe that’s nonsense,” Mao wryly points out,
his eyes lidding. “I don’t think that’s true, but…I always thought it was just
for half-bloods, or extremely talented wizards.”
“It is...kind of.” Ritsu tries to smile, but it doesn’t work. That happens to
him sometimes. “The thing is, wizards can only form them with other wizards, as
far as I know. And wizards are the only ones that can see them. But half-
bloods, we can form them with anyone--but we can’t see them. Me and my brother
are special.”
“I see.” Mao’s fingers slowly, gently start to stroke against the back of
Ritsu’s neck again. “Sorry that I’m just a regular human, then. I can’t see
it.”
“I was just...really hoping...that you could, I guess,” Ritsu says softly, eyes
closing. “Because you can do some magics. But I guess I knew deep down that you
couldn’t. It’s fine.”
“To be fair…everything I can do is because I’ve worked hard to learn it,” Mao
quietly points out. “If I know what I’m looking for, there’s nothing to say I
can’t learn how to see it.” He hesitates, giving the ends of Ritsu’s hair a
soft tug. “Either way, it’s not like I’m…telling you to stop feeling at it.”
“I mean, I can’t stop feeling it. No matter what. It’s really unfair that you
can’t see it, but...” Ritsu shrugs, and buries his face in Mao’s shoulder.
“Basically I’ll never love anyone but you, which is dumb and shitty because
you’re allowed to love anyone.”
Mao’s mouth snaps shut, any replies swiftly dying from his tongue. “…In case
you haven’t noticed,” he points out with a soft laugh, resting his chin atop
Ritsu’s head. “I don’t exactly spend my time looking at anyone else.”
“Yeah, but you’ve been locked up in the Academy. Now you can go free-range. And
you’re sexy, everyone is going to want you.”
“I spend a great deal of time traveling for the Academy, Ritsu. I’m not exactly
bound the way wizards are. And yet,” Mao dryly says, rubbing Ritsu’s hair the
wrong way, “here I am, ignoring the way your patrons grab me on a regular
basis.”
“You’re destroying my style,” Ritsu complains. “Ugh, this is why I didn’t tell
you. You’re gonna feel like you have to be in love with me.”
“You don’t have a style, this is just how you roll out of bed in the morning.”
Mao falls silent for a moment, slowly dragging his fingers along Ritsu’s scalp,
petting him in the exact way that he knows Ritsu likes. “I don’t feel like I
have to be in love with you,” he eventually says. “But I do feel like I’m
finally allowed to be. Now I’m not bound to the Demon King.”
Ritsu feels his pulse stop.
It does that sometimes, when he’s truly focused on something, and he’s never
focused on anything like this. It takes an effort of will to start it going
again, and he slowly opens his eyes, looking up at Mao’s face. “Really?
You...you don’t mind? You’re not--are you messing with me? Or do you just feel
sorry for me?”
“Are you mad? Your brother would kill me,” Mao says with a snort. “If you
didn’t first. I’m not an idiot, Ritsu. Let me say what I want to say without
you questioning me.”
Ritsu swallows hard. It’s not easy, with how dry his throat is, but he manages
it. “A-all right.” Please don’t break my heart, it’s in your hands.
Well—damn, now having said that, maybe saying what he wants to say is…rather
difficult.
Mao heaves a sigh, his gaze sliding sideways. “I swore a pact with your brother
when I was still a child,” he quietly begins, “because I had one goal in mind,
and only one goal—to tear the Academy apart, starting from the inside out.”
His hand slides down to grab for Ritsu’s. “My sister bloomed when she
was…abnormally young. She was three. She couldn’t control any aspect of her
powers, so they took her away, had an emergency meeting about it, and killed
her. I thought about it day and night, and I left, trying to go to the Academy
myself, if only to retrieve her body. You can imagine how stupid that was,
right? I was barely seven, I couldn’t wield a sword or magic, and I
thought…this would work. This would make my parents stop crying. Your brother
found me, stopped me, and swore he would help me if I helped him.”
His fingers squeeze slowly. “Your brother took her body and buried it in the
Shadowlands, so no one would find it, and no one could keep…desecrating her.
For research. So I swore I’d help him, and he flung me into the Academy, right
into their hands, and I hated him for making me do this. It made my parents
stop talking to me, of course. They lost both of their children, in their eyes,
to the Academy. I hated him more when he finally made our paths cross because I
thought—great, I’m just a glorified babysitter. Now I have the Demon Prince to
cater to as well. What am I doing, except being the errand boy of the Emperor
and the Demon King? All I did was escort wizards to their fate, which could
have been my sister…or could have been you, if they found out who you were.
This isn’t helping destroy this place, I thought.” His mouth twists wryly. “And
then he had me start to shadow your activities more and more…and had me start
influencing your patrons, to make sure you were taken care of…and I realized
you weren’t anything like him. You were out in the thick of it. You were a spy
for actual men, those on the battlefield, actually doing something. Thank the
gods, I thought. Ritsu isn’t like his brother, he’s not so…manipulative, and c-
cold, and…”
Mao trails off for a moment, fighting down the urge to sniffle, and he sucks in
a sharp breath through his mouth instead. “I know…n-no one else thinks of the
Demon King like that, and I know he’s your brother. But after all this time, I
still don’t know what use I was to him, other than to watch you, or to shuffle
around the Academy’s wizards like they were pawns on a chessboard. The only
good thing that came out of all of this was that I got to meet you.”
“M-m--”
Ritsu bites back a sob, and wraps his arms around Mao, as hard as he can
without hurting him, tears flooding onto Mao’s shirt. “I think my brother’s
shit too,” he sniffs, nails wavering and losing their shape for a moment,
wanting to blur into claws, but he won’t let them. “B-but I think you’re
perfect, you know? You’re so--strong, and quiet, and cool, and smart, and I’m
not as good a spy as you are, but I want you to like me so bad--it’s so stupid,
I’m eighty years old and you make me feel...like no one’s ever taken care of me
right before.”
“W-well, if you’re used to your brother, maybe no one has,” Mao manages with a
wet laugh, grabbing for Ritsu and crushing him close, even if it takes his
breath away. He presses his lips to the top of Ritsu’s head, squeezing his eyes
shut. “Every time I saw you again, it was like someone had set down a mark in
the sand—like it was supposed to happen, if that makes sense,” he whispers.
“Even if you did things that were so stupid sometimes, I just…I don’t know.
Being around you felt right, so even this happening feels right, even if it
hurts like hell.”
“That’s it,” Ritsu whispers. “That’s it--that’s how it is when you find your
resonant bond. And when you’re apart--doesn’t it hurt? It hurts me all the
time...I didn’t know regular humans could sense it at all, didn’t it drive you
mad?”
“I mean…I worry to death about you all the time, does that count? It’s
distracting.” Mao worries at his lower lip, squeezing Ritsu tight a moment
longer before he has to release him, fighting down the urge to cough. “I, ah,
to be fair,” he breathes, “wonder how normal of a human I am nowadays. I’ve
studied magic for so long, and with your brother sort of helping me limp along
through some of the more complicated arts…who even knows.”
“Mm, he’s definitely been tweaking you,” Ritsu murmurs, eyes unfocusing to
better look at Mao’s aura. “Nothing so much that the Academy would see it--
unless they were looking for it, But why would they, you know?”
“I do feel bad, in a way,” Mao admits, slowly rolling onto his back and draping
an arm over his face. “Not everyone in the Academy is terrible. Ah…but I feel
worse about every wizard that probably is going to be interrogated if I had
contact with them. It’s a mess. I’m just…so relieved that you aren’t there
anymore.”
“It might not be that way,” Ritsu offers. “My brother might just kill everyone
at the Academy, so no one will get tortured.”
“That’s not…encouraging, Ritsu. Death, in general, isn’t.”
“Oh. Humans are weird. Death is good sometimes.”
“It’s not in this situation. We’re trying to save people, remember?”
“Are we?” Ritsu cocks his head. “I thought we were trying to bring down the
Academy. That’s going to save people in the end, right? Ah...I’m missing the
point, aren’t I?”
“A little.” Mao sighs, reaching over to muss Ritsu’s hair gently. “It’s okay.
The point is to avoid as many people dying as possible, you know? Before and
after we bring down the Academy. We’ve already had too many close calls.”
Ritsu nods. “It’s hard for me to see it like you,” he admits, “because I’m so
old, I guess. I’ve seen...I’ve seen so many people die, it just doesn’t feel
the same anymore. But when I think about you, or my other friends...I really
don’t want them to die. So I’ll try to think about everyone else like that, I
guess.”
“You’re eighty, not a million,” Mao wryly says, coming Ritsu’s bangs back from
his face to better look at him. “But yes, that’s the way to go about it. Just
imagine everyone else in the Academy is me or something.”
“Too many Maao’s. I’ll die of dehydration.”
“I…what? Why would that dehydrate you?”
“Wait, what’s the age of consent? How old are you? Am I allowed to make sex
jokes, or are you too little?”
“Ritsu, I’m twenty-six.”
“Yeah, but I dunno how old that is,” Ritsu lies, mouth curling into a smile.
“Is that a teenager?”
“You know exactly how old it is,” Mao scolds, pulling on Ritsu’s hair. “And you
know what a teenager is. It’s what you act like, most of the time.”
“Ahh, really? Damn...I’m pretending to act like way older than I feel...I wanna
be little enough that you have to take care of me all the time. That’s my
permanent employment.”
“I’m not interested in children,” Mao deadpans, flicking Ritsu’s forehead next
when the hair pulling seems to not affect him. “Act like an adult, that’s what
I like.”
“Mm, but I like being taken care of? It’s like we’ll never reach a resolution,”
Ritsu says with a sigh, leaning up and snapping his teeth at Mao’s finger. “Now
that I know you’re bonded to me too, you can’t leave me. Nice.”
“I’ll take care of you even if you’re an adult, pay attention,” Mao sighs,
withdrawing his hand. “And I have no interest in leaving you, bond or no bond.
You’re pretty helpless, when left to your own devices.”
“Only because I like being taken care of. But I can be adult if I want to.
Wanna see how adult I can be?” Ritsu asks with a little hum. He rolls to the
side, straddling Mao’s hips, blinking sleepily down at him. Then he leans in,
and whispers in Mao’s ear, “General rule, that if the principal purpose for
forming, or availing of, such personal service corporation is the avoidance or
evasion of national income tax by reducing the income of, or securing the
benefit of any expense, deduction, credit, exclusion, or other allowance--”
Mao growls, shoving a hand up and over Ritsu’s mouth. “There’s adult and then
there’s tedious,” he hisses, annoyed that his face flushes the second Ritsu
climbs on him. “Don’t quote tax law at me, that just makes me think of Keito.”
“Rude, I was a tax lawyer before he was born. For like...three weeks. Taxes are
boring.”
Ritsu shifts his hips slightly, one eyebrow raising. “I was sitting down here
because I didn’t wanna hurt your chest, but you like it, huh? What a pervert.”
“It’s a natural reaction, it doesn’t mean I’m a pervert!” Mao protests,
squirming to get away, which would be a lot easier if Ritsu wasn’t dead weight
and he wasn’t still wheezing off and on. “This is your fault, isn’t it?”
“Ehh, it is? Oh, then you’re always hard whenever I’m around?” Ritsu’s eyes
glint, his body starting to wake up now that the sun is setting. “You can keep
squirming if you want, but I can think of better ways to take care of it.”
“I…I didn’t say that.” Mao’s face flushes redder, and he pointedly turns his
head to the side. “You don’t have to do anything.” It’s not like this hasn’t
ever happened before, and he’s ignored it, and that’s been fine.
“But you don’t have weird underwear,” Ritsu points out. “Why don’t you just
take it out? I’ll suck it, if you want. I’ll keep my fangs away and
everything.”
“…How sure are you that your brother isn’t going to come for me and kill me if
you do that?”
Ritsu makes a sudden, disgusted face. “He’s not the keeper of my arsehole,” he
says, blinking at the oddity of the statement. “Or my lips, weird. Is that how
humans do it?”
“N-no, gods, no, I—“ Mao exhales a hard breath, and then stifles a cough,
fluttering his other hand dismissively. “I-it’s because—for so long, he really
didn’t even want us talking. I didn’t want him to overhear through the pact or
something, it’s so awkward…”
Ritsu makes a face, then grinds down, very deliberately, with a sinuous wiggle
of his hips. “Does that mean...that you’re a virgin? Ah, is twenty-six old for
that or not...”
“I’m—listen, I’ve had a woman before!” Mao protests, and he breathlessly grabs
for Ritsu’s shirt pulling him down, trying to still him. “I’d much rather…be an
active participant in this,” he manages, brow furrowing. “So if you want that,
too—we should wait. I—“ He licks at his lips, his gaze flicking sideways. “I
want you to be able to drink from me, too.”
Ritsu’s breath catches, eyes narrowing to slits. He licks his lips, feeling the
prick of his fangs against them as they start to emerge even without him
meaning them to. That hasn’t happened in a long time, not to this extent. “I’m
gonna get off you now,” he breathes, trying to keep himself under control.
“That...mmm, Maaaao, that’s basically the most erotic thing you can say to a
bloodbred, not fair....”
“I didn’t know that,” Mao fairly squeaks, hands on Ritsu’s chest. “Be good, be
good. I-I was just trying to—I don’t know—ah, Ritsu, please be good…”
With an enormous feat of will, Ritsu actually throws himself physically off of
Mao, flinging himself into the wall with a grunt of impact. “Ow. Didn’t mean to
go so hard. Had to get off of you, ow. I’m good, see? I’m really good.”
“Yes, you’re so good,” Mao firmly says, scooting further back against the
headboard. He hesitates, wary now, unsure if he should encourage Ritsu for
later or not. “Later,” he emphasizes instead, “you can do whatever you want,
and that includes…what we just talked about. But I’m not going to be any fun if
I start coughing on you, am I? Or if you can’t even lay on my chest or
anything.”
Ritsu rolls across the floor, then climbs back onto the bed. “I’m okay, I’m
okay. I just, uh, needed a second, and probably to be knocked into a wall. It’s
okay, I’ll hold you to later.”
“Please don’t knock yourself into a wall again,” Mao sighs, gingerly reaching
out to pet Ritsu’s head. “Sorry. I really didn’t know.”
Ritsu smiles sweetly, turning to press a kiss to Mao’s palm. “It’s really fine,
yeah? I just didn’t wanna hurt you, bumping into a wall isn’t gonna hurt me.
Mm, now I know I have to be on my guard for super erotic Maao.”
Mao’s fingers gently curl against Ritsu’s cheek. “If that’s what you’re going
to call me, sure,” he says with a wry laugh, his eyes lidded. “Next time, you
can eat me alive.”
Ritsu groans, and grabs himself between the legs, squeezing hard. “Behave,” he
orders himself. “Heh, maybe I need that stupid special underwear, huh?”
“Like you’d keep it on for more than a second.”
“Correct. Heh. Snuggle me.”
***** Chapter 27 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
“You need a what?”
Mika, on the floor at Shu’s feet, had merely stared up at Izumi. “Are your ears
bad?”
“No, obviously not, you little smartass—“
“Then go get it.”
Izumi leaves, if only so this insane argument ends.
Pounding on Arashi’s door is the only logical solution, because what the hell.
It would be good if he could decipher the nonsense that his crazy wizards spew.
Arashi opens the door barefoot, in breeches and an open shirt with sword in
hand, hair tumbling in a golden spill over his shoulders, eyes wide and
searching for trouble. “What’s wrong? Is there an attack?”
“Put your damned sword down and stop looking so attractive. Your wizards,”
Izumi bites out, sliding past him with a last, wary glance down the hall, “are
insane.”
Arashi sheathes his sword, hanging it again by the door, just an inch free of
the sheath for quick draw. He flops back on the bed, purposely tousling his
hair again. “What, my wizards specifically? I’m not disagreeing, just curious
about context.”
“Yes, your wizards specifically,” Izumi grouses, shutting the door firmly. He
stares at Arashi for a moment, then shakes himself off forcibly, wiping his
hands down his face. “Shu just tried to send me to the Sandlands to harvest a
foot.”
“Oh.” Arashi swings his feet back up on the bed, blinking at Izumi. “Do you
need to borrow a horse? The Sandlands aren’t that far, I bet Vale could make it
in like a week.”
“Stop, stop,” Izumi interrupts, holding up his hands. “Don’t tell me you’re
okay with this. Didn’t Mika lose an eye to this shit?”
Arashi blinks. “I mean, yeah. But I assumed you’ve got enough scruples to pay a
consenting adult for it instead of paying some lady to carve up her baby.”
“Why would any adult consent to that? I’d have to chop off their damned foot,
who the hell can put a price on a limb? They can’t possibly be truly
consenting, either, who in their right mind would?” Izumi scowls, folding his
arms across his chest. “This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard of.”
“They consent because the price is seriously high,” Arashi explains, “and a lot
of the prostitutes in the Sandlands need the money for drugs. Wizards need them
for almost every big spell. And since there are lots of brothels that cater to
those who like amputees, they’re not even compromising their future moneymaking
possibilities. That’s how Mika explained it to me, anyway. Why’d you think
there were so many folks missing parts down there? What did you think they were
doing with them?”
“I don’t know. I thought it was just a sex thing. It’s the Sandlands, you
know?” Izumi drops himself down onto the side of Arashi’s bed, heaving a sigh.
“I don’t feel right about this. I don’t want to go and chop the foot off of a
prostitute, what the hell.”
Arashi shrugs. “I’m not going. Last time I was in the Sandlands I almost died,
and Mika isn’t going, so I’m staying here. It’s all you, sweetheart. You’re
still Shu’s attache.”
“I don’t want to go. The last time I was in the Sandlands—“ Izumi’s lips purse,
and he shakes his head. “Pass. I’d rather cut off my own foot and give it to
him.”
“Don’t be dumb, there are markets for this kind of thing. Why are you so
squeamish about this?”
“It’s creepy. I can’t guarantee that the person really wants me to chop their
foot off for drugs or whatever. Why aren’t you more bothered by this? Are you
secretly into stubs?”
Arashi yawns, flopping back into his pillows. “I’ve been around wizards too
long, I suppose. If I were into stubs, I’d go get someone with them. Seriously,
if you’re preventing him from freeing the Demon King because you’re squeamish,
he’s going to throw you into the pot.”
“Fine, let him. I’m not going.”
Izumi flops onto his back, curling up at the foot of Arashi’s bed. “Throw me
into the pot for him. I don’t want to go cut off feet, that’s too fucked up
even for me.”
“Izumi. You’re his attache. It’s your duty.” Arashi doesn’t look tired anymore,
eyes sharp. “Sorry if you thought your job was going to be easy, but I’m still
your Captain and you still have to do as you’re ordered.”
“Can’t you humor me for literally five minutes?” Izumi rolls, presenting Arashi
with his back when his eyes threaten to start watering. “I don’t want to go
back to the Sandlands.” I don’t want to be apart from Leo again also lingers on
the tip of his tongue, but Izumi bites down on that, hard.
Arashi just stares. “I’m...really not seeing what you expect me to do,” he
admits, laying a hand on Izumi’s back. “I’m still your Captain, you know. I
don’t know why you think I’m going to say you don’t have to do your duty?
Imagine the shit I’ve seen, I was courier to the Academy for years.”
“I don’t expect you to say I don’t have to do it. I…” Izumi huffs out a wet
breath, and slowly twists around, staring at Arashi. “Tell me stories about how
shitty being a courier was,” he mutters. “Or…anything, I don’t care, I just
don’t want to think about the Sandlands for a few more minutes.”
“Hmm.” Arashi reaches up, playing with Izumi’s hair. “Ahh, that’s much longer
now, excellent. Oh, my first job as a courier was to bring tax tithes to the
Academy, and everyone in the Greenfields decided to pay in live chickens that
year. Ugh, I have adored eating chickens ever since, thinking about them dying.
They’re stupid, they smell, and I couldn’t feel good about putting them in
bags, so I eventually bought a cart to transport them, and the Academy didn’t
even pay me back! I still have that stupid chicken cart somewhere, back at my
estate. I told my executor to use it to haul dung and fertilizer to and from
the fields.”
“I forget you have an estate sometimes,” Izumi murmurs. “Mostly because you
never offer to take me there. Are you hiding your wife and fifteen children
there?”
Arashi makes a face. “Ugh, women, no. I’ll flirt with them in the Capital to
make everyone think I’m not a complete deviant, but the idea of touching
one...honestly, it’s disgusting. Don’t know how you do it.”
“Really. That must be difficult. They’re soft and smell nice and…” Izumi trails
off sulkily. “Not that it matters. I’ve sworn them off.”
“Please. They have big bags of fat hanging off them. How does that not make
your skin crawl?”
“…Tits. You mean tits. They’re all right. I mean, I prefer ladies with less of
them, I’ll agree with you there.” Izumi’s eyebrows raise. “Are you just not
going to produce an heir, then?”
Arashi shrugs, looping an arm around Izumi’s waist and pulling him close. “I
figure I’ll just do what any other man like me would do, and marry some lady,
then let someone else tie her bustle on backward.”
“Just marry my mother.” It’s only half a joke. Izumi buries his face into
Arashi’s chest, his own arms slinging around his neck. “She only loves ladies,
I’m fairly certain. And is barren, besides. So you’re marrying her for the land
and title, and you’ve got an instant heir, me.”
Arashi blinks slowly. Then, he shrugs one shoulder. “Sounds good, my son. As
soon as she stops attacking the entire world, I’ll send her a missive. I’m not
joking at all, by the way. I won’t bother her at all, make sure she knows.”
“Don’t call me that ever again.” Izumi glares threateningly at a nipple. “This
should be proof of how much I like you. Don’t ruin it now.”
“Oh, be honest, it’s just proof of how much you want to own my lands when I
inevitably die someday,” Arashi says with a laugh. “Nothing’s set in stone yet,
but it would be nice, since I’ve got money and you’ve got the old titles. Now
neither of us need to be looked down on in Leo’s court, hmm? Assuming we all
survive until he’s crowned.”
“Ah, yes, inhospitable mountains, my favorite sort of land to take,” Izumi
dryly retorts. He shifts closer, slinging a leg over Arashi’s hip to make sure
he’s plastered against him. “Calling the prince by name now, hmm?”
“Why not? He’s dead, so I can call him whatever I like until his resurrection,
right?” Arashi drags a hand down Izumi’s spine, trying to make him shiver. “Do
you call him Your Highness in bed?”
“No,” Izumi half-heartedly growls, snapping his teeth lightly against the front
of Arashi’s throat. He does shiver, damn him, and he flexes his nails against
Arashi’s back. “I’m allowed to call him Leo. Or Milord, if I’m bullying him.”
“Mm, like he calls you bastard page? Heh, do you just come all over yourself if
anyone does that, or just him?” Arashi teases, dragging his fingers up again,
ignoring the provocation.
Izumi huffs at that, pulling on the ends of Arashi’s hair when he doesn’t
respond to his initial gnawing. “Only Leo gets to say that, to hell with you,”
he mutters, eyeing Arashi’s neck before fastening his mouth to the side of it,
sucking deliberately when his fingers go for a nipple. If Arashi’s not going to
play fair, well…
Arashi squeaks, then bats Izumi’s hand away, shoving him back. “Ahh, you’re
playing naughty. Trying to distract me? I’ve even been nice about not bringing
up your obvious failure to tumble Morisawa.”
“Bring it up all you want, I still kissed him and got an offer for later. Gods,
he was just too much of an optimist and I had just stopped that Academy spy
from dying, I wasn’t in the mood,” Izumi complains, immediately crawling back
over to nestle back up to Arashi, nuzzling up to his ear. “Play with me, I’m
fun, and I don’t expect you to come every damned time.”
Arashi skillfully turns his head, giving Izumi a face full of hair. “I’m a
taken lady, you damned rake. Go get Shu his body parts, then I’ll consider it.”
“I already told you, cut off my foot.” Izumi hesitates, then reluctantly says,
“It’ll grow back. I think.”
“Eh? You were serious?” Arashi sits up, frowning. “How sure are you? Have you
ever had anything cut off before?”
Izumi opens his mouth, considers how to answer that when his memory is
decidedly fuzzy, and finally says, “Maybe? Who knows. You know, maybe I need to
be drunk for this.”
“If you do cut it off, does it reattach, or do you grow a new one? We have got
to test this,” Arashi says, a little too excited, reaching for the dagger he
keeps under his pillow.
“I’m…pretty sure it grows a new one?” Izumi warily says, eyeing Arashi. “That’s
how lizards are. I think I’m at least some kind of reptile. Can we try it with
a toe or something first, just in case?”
“Sure, sure. Gimme your foot. Wait, no, we shouldn’t do this in my bed.”
“Well, I’m not doing it somewhere less comfortable! Get an old blanket or
something, put that down. And a bottle of wine, I know you stash them.”
“What, my good wine?” Arashi asks, scandalized. “That isn’t for drinking a
whole bottle of, that’s for savoring with fish!”
“I’ll savor a damned fish with you later. Am I not worth your good wine? I
thought you loved me.”
Arashi’s mouth twists unhappily, and he gets off the bed, pulling his closet
open to reveal a wide assortment of fancy suits and soldier’s uniforms, and
hidden behind a panel, a rack of wine. “You can have a bottle,” he says
grumpily, “but we’re not doing it on my bed. It’s the one thing I own that
never smells like blood.”
“Fine, fine.” Izumi rolls off of the bed, pulling up a chair instead. “I don’t
bleed like a normal human, you know. It’s not going to gush or anything.”
“Yuck,” Arashi says frankly. He looks around, then grabs a stool that he
doesn’t care too much about, propping it firmly in front of Izumi. “Don’t
worry, you know how obsessive I am about knife sharpness.”
“Gods, I don’t want to do this,” Izumi grouses, and he toes off one of his very
finely woven socks and props his foot up on the stool. “I don’t know if it
should be the little toe or what. If it doesn’t grow back, I don’t want my
balance to be off, but I don’t know what’s more noticeable…”
“Ooh, I’ll just do a knuckle from one of the middle ones,” Arashi decides.
“Then your balance won’t be off, and you can always kinda scoot them together
if you need to hide it.”
“Are you sure that’ll work?” Izumi frets, wiggling his toes. “Won’t it be
harder to cut that one cleanly, though? If you miss and cut my other toes, I’ll
be pissed.”
“Bitch, I don’t miss what I want to cut,” Arashi says frankly, and pulls a
corkscrew out of his cabinet, opening the wine with a wince. “I’ll miss this
bottle...I was saving it. But by all means, use it to save yourself a trip to
the Sandlands because you’re lazy and squeamish.”
“Fuck you, if that’s what you think I’m doing,” Izumi snaps. “Just fucking cut
it off already. I hope it spurts blood on your stupid, very nice chest.”
Arashi shrugs. “Okay.”
Then, before Izumi can move or tense, he grabs Izumi’s ankle to hold him
steady, and in the next heartbeat, severs the lower joint of a middle toe clean
off.
Izumi bites down on a curse, and promptly snatches up that bottle of wine,
downing a huge mouthful. “Ow,” he hisses out, pointedly not looking at the
severed joint. He’s not squeamish, but damned if he hasn’t found that looking
at it makes him far more aware of pain existing. “That stings. Oh, there it
goes, I can already feel it coming back. It’s barely bleeding, I know, I can
barely feel it dripping.”
Arashi gingerly picks up the severed joint, watching it as if it’ll disappear
at any moment. “Huh. Doesn’t seem to be shrinking or shriveling up or whatever.
It seems pretty normal. You think your body parts would even work in a spell,
if he needs human?”
“I’m human enough,” Izumi moodily points out, taking another long drink
straight from the bottle. “Guess I should probably ask, though, before I let
you lop my entire foot off.”
“Makes it mooore powerful, actually. Half-bloods are rare.”
Izumi jumps, entirely missing when Mika must have snuck back in, now lurking
behind Arashi with a stare that’s far too interested. “Uh—“
“This is real cool,” he says, eyes gleaming. “It’s like an endless
supply…Master’s gonna be thrilled—“
“I’m not a body part farm!” Izumi snaps, even though when he glances down, his
toe is definitely back to normal, if not a bit sore. “This is a one-time
occasion.”
“Uh huh, sure. Hey, kara, you should let me cut it off.”
“Ah...Mika, amaka, I’ve seen you butcher a roast. And I do mean butcher. No
offense, but I’ll do it.” Arashi pauses, dagger glinting, and asks, “Wait, I
remember that once you smashed your hand and Shu numbed it, can he still do
that?”
“Ehh, but I didn’t know how to do a roast, I know how to do this.”
“That’s so unimaginably horrifying?” Izumi manages, withdrawing his foot in a
hurry. “You know, why don’t you go get Shu and let him…do that thing.”
Mika’s lips purse. “I guess I could do that,” he sighs, turning away. “But then
he’s gonna get reeeal excited about it.”
Izumi drinks more wine. “Just. Go.”
Arashi gives Mika a fond pat on the ass on his way out, and tosses the toelet
up into the air, catching it one-handed. “You could be so rich, you know. The
Academy has a stipend for wizards to help them acquire their ‘rare’
ingredients, and everyone knows what it means.”
“Pass. It’s not worth having to chop my limbs off all the time. Can you stop
tossing my toe around, that’s so weird.” Izumi wipes a hand down his face. “I
don’t want to be known for this kind of thing. I’m not a body part factory.”
Arashi tosses over the little bit of Izumi. “You don’t wanna be a healer even
though you can heal better than any Healer alive, you don’t wanna be a body
part farm when you could be the richest man alive, you don’t want to squire for
the most powerful men in the realm, what do you want to do?”
Izumi catches the partial toe with a grimace, and throws it back at Arashi.
“Idiot. I want to be the Captain of Leo’s Kingsguard. Nothing else matters
except what he wants me to do.”
“I’m tellin’you, Master, it’s pretty cool.”
Mika opens the door, pulling Shu in with him, something like evil radiating
from his entire being. “So if Master numbs it, can I cut it off then?”
“No, fuck no, I already told you no.”
“Mika, if you don’t stop your eyes from doing that thing, you’re banned from
even watching,” Shu says severely, eyes narrowed. He looks more than a little
green around the gills, but he stands straight. “Stop looking so creepy, you’re
making me ill. Captain Arashi is good at cutting limbs off his enemies.”
“I have no idea how I got roped into any of this,” Arashi complains, flipping
the dagger in his hand. “I was napping.”
Mika pouts, and Izumi scowls. “It’s a lot faster than me going to the
Sandlands, isn’t it?” he demands. “Just numb it already, this’ll hurt a lot
more than a damned toe. We, ah, tested it first.”
Shu huffs, then waves a hand, and violet fire gathers around Izumi’s foot, the
sensations in it instantly going dead. “Anywhere that’s colored,” he tells
Arashi, then deliberately turns around. “Please do it quickly, I don’t want
this any longer than it needs to be.”
Arashi offers Izumi a leather belt. “Want to bite down, darling?”
Izumi takes another, long drink of wine before setting the bottle down and
grabbing the belt. “Agreeing with Shu here; please do it quickly.”
“Y’all are all babies,” Mika complains, plopping down onto the edge of the bed
to watch from the best possible view. “This stuff is my favorite.”
Izumi stares at him for a moment, then bites down onto the leather.
Arashi looks down at his dagger, then discards it to grab his sword from its
sheath. “Momentum is my friend,” he mutters under his breath, and swings, the
blade cleanly slicing Izumi’s foot off at the ankle.
“That’s the worst sound I’ve ever heard,” Shu says, hand over his mouth.
“Not that bad,” Arashi says wearily, kneeling to clean the blade. “I’ve had to
do this for men with injuries and gangrene before. The rotten flesh makes a
much worse sound. Hey, it’s already growing back, wow.”
It’s fairly nice that he can’t even feel it, but, ah, it still is disturbing.
Izumi spits out the leather, grabs his bottle of wine again, and chugs. “That,”
he says, “feels bad. Let me explain. The cutting part, I didn’t feel that, but
the growing back part—bad.”
“Kara, you’re so strong,” Mika sighs, hopping off the bed to scoop up the foot.
“Whoa, it’s not even like, dripping blood or anythin’.”
“Yeah, my blood doesn’t work the same way.”
“Neat. C’mon, Master, you can use this, right?”
“Yes. But you can--you can carry it, I don’t exactly want to,” Shu mutters,
averting his eyes. “Ah, here, this might help.” He frowns, and the violet fire
spreads again, covering the slowly-growing stump. “That should keep it less
horrible, I hope. Thank you, this is...”
Shu hesitates, then actually lays a hand on Izumi’s hair, ruffling it gently.
“This is a far less distasteful solution. I am grateful.”
Already feeling tipsy on very good wine, the sudden lack of additional
discomfort makes Izumi relax, and he grabs Shu’s hand, pressing a kiss to the
back of it. “I’m not ever doing it for anyone else,” he seriously says. “Just
you. Use me sparingly.”
“Don’t be kissin’ Master, or I’ll come bite you.”
“He appreciates me!” Izumi snaps, releasing Shu’s hand. “Unlike the rest of you
lot!”
“Of course I appreciate you,” Shu says, very seriously. “You’re very, very
beautiful. Believe me, I almost never do these spells, they’re...repugnant to
me. Come along, Mika, I have to retrieve a wayward Demon King.” He sweeps out
of the room, Nightcloak billowing.
Arashi blows Mika a kiss. “Don’t get too jealous over him, get more jealous
over me, amaka!”
“Let me cut off his foot next time,” Mika flippantly says, foot clutched to his
chest as he trots after Shu.
“Arashi.” Izumi takes another, slower sip of wine. “Do you know that he’s so
strange?”
Arashi sighs dreamily. “He makes my maiden heart flutter.”
“Forget it. You’re not allowed to marry my mother, just put Mika in a dress and
call it a day.”
“Serve you right if I took you up on that.” Arashi huffs, and finishes cleaning
his sword, sheathing it carefully again and flopping back on the bed. “When
you’re not bleeding at all you can come and lay with me.”
“Give it a minute. It’s already…almost done doing its thing. Ugh, ow, this is
so weird.”
Describing it alludes him, so Izumi doesn’t bother. He just slowly drains the
whole bottle of wine waiting for his foot to grow back, and after a few
minutes, he dares to swing it off the stool, wiggling his toes to see if they
still work—and they do, albeit with a lingering soreness, as if he’s been
stepped on by Vale more than twice in a day. “There,” he mutters, slowly
dragging himself over to the bed, and collapses onto it. “See, Shu was happy.
This was the right choice.”
“In my defense, I didn’t know you could replicate your body parts,” Arashi
protests, and hauls Izumi close. “Or that you’d volunteer.”
“You greatly underestimate my desire to stay here with Leo,” Izumi forthrightly
says, far more honest when he’s drunk. He slings his arms and legs alike around
Arashi, wriggling close. “And away from the Sandlands. ’s no good.”
“How come your body lets you get drunk?” Arashi asks, blinking. “Shouldn’t it
treat that as poison or whatever and metabolize it? How do you work?”
“I’m fighting so hard to stay drunk right now. I…I have to drink it really
fast, and then like, keep trying. It used to let me get drunk,” Izumi grouses.
“But now I have to try. Cutting my foot off probably helped. Made it have
something else to focus on. Stop asking questions and pet me, I’m pretty.”
“Are you seriously that insecure that you have to keep reminding me you’re
pretty?” Arashi asks, incredulous. “Ugh, I should dump you in your prince’s
room, let him deal with your whiny ass.” But in contrast to his words, he
gathers Izumi close, petting his hair.
“Nooo…don’t dump me on him, I don’t want to bother him.” Izumi buries his face
into Arashi’s neck, sniffling. “I don’t want him to think I’m pathetic,” he
mumbles. “But I feel pathetic. And ugly. And stupid. Arashi…you’re so good, I
mean it.”
“What’s wrong with you, darling?” Arashi asks, sounding more curious than
anything. “You just saved someone an amputation, and your patron about a
thousand Royals. Why are you so down on you? If someone else were talking like
that about you, I’d run them through.”
“That’s why you’re good.” Izumi shifts, wriggling his toes again when feeling
starts to return to them. That’s probably one of the stranger sensations he’s
ever felt, but not the worst. “I’m not looking for compliments or anything,” he
mutters. “Just…the idea that I’d be better off making a career as a healer or
an organ farm or something like that…makes me feel like I’m not cut out for
what I want to do. It fucking sucks. Leo died because of me once already. I
know, I know, he’s not really dead, but I still watched him die.”
“You watched him get injured,” Arashi says gently. “Even the Demon King can’t
return someone from death, so he wasn’t dead. You know, you don’t get nearly
this squeamish about me getting injured.”
“It was a mortal wound, he would’ve died. I saw dying.” Izumi’s voice hiccups,
and he hides his face firmly against Arashi’s shoulder. “I d-don’t get this
squeamish because you’d make fun of me, why do you think I healed your face so
fast t-then ran away? You stress me out all the time.”
“Me?” Arashi stares at him, and hugs him tighter. “Why should I stress you out,
I’m the sturdiest person you know! Ugh, not that I like that, it’s not exactly
ladylike...”
“See, that’s what I mean!” Izumi huffs. “You…you act like you’re invincible and
I’d probably throw myself off a cliff if something h-happened to you because
you were stupid.”
He falls silent for a second, his fingers curling against Arashi’s back. “Duke
Rodan told me…that you and the wizards were captured. Tortured. Killed. Because
of me. I can’t…I know it wasn’t true, but I can’t s-shake it. If you died—if
you thought Mika died because of something that was my fault, and you died
hating me…” Tears well up into his eyes, and Izumi doesn’t try to stop them.
“Y-you know I’d kill anyone that came for him, right? I’d fucking destroy
them.”
Arashi rolls Izumi firmly onto his back, then climbs on top of him, pinning him
by the shoulders. “Stop it,” he says, eyes not wavering, voice steady. “Stop it
right now. You’ve been broken up about this, haven’t you? Fucking idiot, I love
you so much, but stop taking the credit for everything. I hated the king long
before your cute ass decided to put Leo on the crown. I brought you a group of
noble rebels, remember? I threw my weight behind this shit long before we met,
and I always knew it might end in an alley with some bastard nobleman’s boot
kicking my bones to powder.”
Izumi’s breath hiccups, and he slowly nods, tears streaming freely down his
face. “I remember,” he whispers, squirming to free his arms, his hands
clutching at Arashi’s wrists. “But I…gods, I’m so fucking scared,” he finally
admits on a ragged laugh, turning his head aside. “N…not just because of how so
many people I like could die, though that’s a big part of it, I’ve never had f-
friends, you know? But—the idea of even being back in the capital..I’m…I’m so
scared, I k-keep telling Leo how I’m going to kill so many of those traitors,
but the idea of even being near them…”
“It won’t be that way.” Arashi sits back, squeezing Izumi’s hands, holding his
eyes, his own gone dark. “I don’t think there’s any possibility of it being
that way anymore, with a peaceful transition from the King to your Prince.
There’s been too much blood spilled. I think it’s going to be war.”
“We’ll know soon, either way,” Izumi whispers, his fingers trembling until he
squeezes Arashi’s back tightly. “Leo…he’s…he’s going to try and reach out to
his father. I think it’s just going to make him sad, to hear his father turn
down what he has to offer, but…it’s not like I can give him a better plan.”
“At least then he can say truly that he tried everything. You know, he probably
knows that it won’t go well,” Arashi says softly. “But if he doesn’t at least
try...then he’s wholly to blame for any slaughter that happens.”
“I know. I know why he’s doing it, I just…I’m really not good at seeing him
upset,” Izumi admits with a broken little laugh. “Fuck.” He drops one of
Arashi’s hands to wipe at his eyes, which does nothing to help him stop crying.
“Y-you know I’m usually not like this, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, yeah. Go on, be vulnerable for me, you can’t do it in front of anyone
else.” Arashi pets Izumi’s hair, then brushes away his tears. “Fuck it. Have
you even cried since you got free?”
Izumi shakes his head firmly, fresh, obnoxiously hot tears welling up in his
eyes. “N-not really—sort of, with Leo, but then he starts crying because I’m
crying and it’s a f-fucking mess so I just stop.” His lower lip trembles. “When
I saw you were alive. I cried then.”
“Goddammit, I--”
Arashi crushes Izumi in a hug, pulling him so close his muscles creak, burying
his own tearing eyes. “Th-there, now I can’t see you, all right? I’ll kill you
if you ever die!”
Izumi sobs—as much as he’s able, when Arashi is squeezing him so tightly that
it’s hard to breathe—and his fingers fist into the back of Arashi’s shirt,
clinging to him. “T-that’s fair,” he whispers. “I’d kill me, too. F-fuck, I…I
was so afraid, when I thought you were dead. If someone could kill you…I
figured we were all really doomed.”
Arashi’s laugh is wet, and his breath comes out damp against Izumi’s shoulder.
“S-same,” he agrees. “When the Demon King told me they didn’t find you--the
prince was so frantic, I tried to tell him I didn’t think you could die, but I
wasn’t sure, and you’d had so much to drink, I just couldn’t
stop...thinking...and that’s not me! I hate thinking!”
Izumi sniffles, burrowing his way as deeply into Arashi’s chest as possible.
“Open this up already,” he mumbles, patting Arashi’s chest with one hand. “I
wanna crawl inside. S-sorry, your skin’s getting all salty.” He tries to
breathe normally, fails, and his breath hiccups on a sob again. “I…I didn’t
want to tell Leo this,” he admits. “I just…I told him I gave up, w-when they
said he was dead, but a-after that, too, when they made sure I knew you were
dead, that Shu and Mika were…that they were interrogating everyone…it really
felt like it was all my fault. If I had just kept my mouth shut once, or kept
it in my pants…t-that’s why…that’s why I can’t stop thinking about it now. I
know it’s irrational, I know you’ve been dealing with t-this stuff before I
came along, but…”
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Arashi whispers, holding Izumi tighter. “Next time, I
mean, gods forbid there’s any sort of next time, but next time seriously ask
them for proof--like something physical, or something we’d only say under
torture, you know? And if they refuse, they haven’t got me. I’ll tell them--if
they’re torturing me, I’ll tell them I was born to a washerwoman, it’s a lie,
see? So if you hear that, it’s true that they’ve got me, but if you hear
anything else, they haven’t.”
“I think,” Izumi softly says, his voice muffled into Arashi’s chest, “that kind
of thing only works when the people that’ve got you will answer your
questions.”
“Shut up, be cooperative,” Arashi whispers. “I’m your commander. Do as I say,
you’re an awful subordinate. Let me pretend like we can prepare for things like
this.”
Izumi’s head slowly shakes, trembling as he clutches at Arashi’s back. “If I
have to go through that again,” he says, voice wet, “I…I’m not going to be
thinking about how to be prepared. S-sorry.”
Arashi is silent for a long time, just breathing, rubbing Izumi’s back. Then,
quietly, he asks, “Was it your first time?”
Izumi says nothing. Then, he stuffs his face harder against Arashi’s chest. “…I
know it happens. And—and being a soldier makes it more likely, even, but…” His
fingers curl uselessly into Arashi’s shirt. “It’s not that I thought it would
never happen to me, like I was too good or whatever, I…it was the way they did
it.” His mouth twists, his jaw tensing until he feels a muscle pop. “Being a
half-blood…means they don’t think you’re human at all.”
“I’m going to tell you a nasty truth, darling. Rapists never think their
victims are human. Not deep down. Or if they do, they simply don’t care.”
Arashi’s smile is tight and mirthless. “There’s no nice version of it.”
“I know. I know that. I…here. I’ll show you what I mean.”
Izumi scoots back, just enough to unbutton his shirt, kept deliberately high
and fastened these days. “Ugly, right?” he murmurs, pulling it down enough to
let Arashi see the large, splotchy white scar that covers the base of his neck.
“I tried to explain to Leo why I wanted all of them dead by showing him this,
but…I couldn’t tell him everything. It’s not something a prince should hear,
you know?” Izumi bites his lip, and forces himself to drop his hand and not
just keep covering up that scar. “They went into it knowing I was a half-blood,
so…they had a collar made specifically for me. In their eyes…I was so agreeable
after they put it on, because it made it so I couldn’t fight when they kept
auctioning me off like…like a fucking…” He trails off, unable to even say it.
“Sorry. I know you don’t want to hear this, either.”
“It hurts.” Arashi lays his hand over the scar, fingertips stroking it gently.
“Because I can see how bad it hurts you. Just...I see you going to a dark
place. Seen a lot of soldiers go there before. Just--any time you start to go
there...just remember that you can’t come back. And you can’t help Leo from
there.”
“…I just want to be able to kill them all without being fucking terrified of
what they’ll say to me.” Izumi’s breath stutters, and he grabs at Arashi’s
hand. “My ego can’t take this,” he admits with a ragged laugh. “I’ve been
trying. If it’s someone else, fine, I’ll kick everyone’s ass, but if it’s me, I
just…”
Arashi gives him a brief smile, and squeezes his hand. “Artan. Goran. Eris.
Those are my names for you. If you ever run across three men with those names
from my hometown, don’t tell me about it. Just...do what you’d do to yours. Now
give me your names. We’ll trade.”
Izumi wetly blinks back at him, then sniffs, glancing away. “Karn, Hennessy,
Blake, Plaskett, Rains, Wynne—and some of their guardsmen, but I don’t know
their names. And…Duke Rodan. He didn’t touch me, but he…instigated the whole
thing.” Izumi curls his fingers around Arashi’s. “They’re all noblemen, from
the Capital. Yours?”
“Tradesmen. From Canvera, in the West. And the reason I decided to go soldier
instead of into stonemasonry with my father.” Arashu rubs his thumbs over the
backs of Izumi’s hands. “A fine trade, since I’m much more lethal in a fight
than you. I’ll take the dozen who are trained, you take the three village
idiots.”
“Fuck you,” Izumi mutters, but it has absolutely no vitriol behind it. “The
fact I kicked their asses before is part of why they hate me so much. If you
don’t know the face that goes with the name, just look for a notch missing out
of their ears.”
“Didn’t you leave those on half the Capital?”
“…Only high-ranking noblemen that challenged me to duels. All of which I
subsequently won, thanks.” Izumi grimaces. “There were only a couple missing
from Duke Rodan’s ranks, so…” 
“Probably the ones that retired from court life in shame,” Arashi suggests.
“Or, I don’t know, the ones who didn’t really care about their wives or their
ears.”
“I thought I was brilliant at 16, all right?” Izumi heaves a shaky sigh. “You
can’t tell me you’ve never done something ridiculously dumb before.”
“Dumb, sure. But cruel?” Arashi shrugs. “I try not to go about making enemies
in the upper ranks. I can’t. I’m common-born, the only thing that keeps me
sitting at those tables is my smile, and how good I am at commanding men and
killing Inglings.”
“Nothing cruel about it when the husbands are the shitty ones and the wives
came to me first.” Izumi’s lips purse. “But that doesn’t matter, I know.
There’s a reason I’m swearing off women now, lesson learned.”
“...I’m pretty sure the lesson was to stop touching things that aren’t yours
and then blaming other people for it,” Arashi says dryly. “Either way, I don’t
care enough to lecture you. Oh, but I’ve been dying to ask you something, if
you’re up for gossip?”
“Gossip sounds good,” Izumi grumbles, knocking his head against Arashi’s chest
again. “Go on, I like when you don’t scold me.”
“What’s the deal with that Makoto kid?”
“Oh, gods, what about him? I’ve known him since I was old enough to walk…why?”
“Did he always look at you like you’re the only thing that matters?”
Izumi pauses, thinking back. “I mean, he was my first kiss.”
“Adorable. You know he’s in love with you, right?”
“I have been attempting to…I wouldn’t say ignore it, but…” Izumi hesitates,
falling silent for a moment. “He took care of me, afterwards,” he quietly says.
“Even though he could’ve gotten killed. I thought Leo was dead. I…fucked up
there, too. I don’t even know what to say to him anymore without coming off as
weird.”
“You mean you slept with him.” Arashi has heard enough men say they fucked up
without giving further explanation to know what that means. “A vulnerable young
kid who’s looked up to you since you were both children, and then been locked
in a tower with weird underwear.”
“Can you stop blaming me for everything?” Izumi snaps. “I didn’t plan on it. He
asked me—I felt like shit, I still couldn’t believe anyone was alive, and he
made me feel good again for five seconds. Just because I don’t know how to deal
with it now doesn’t mean it was wrong at the time.”
Arashi sighs, but there’s no arguing with Izumi when it comes to getting him to
admit fault. For whatever reason, it’s one thing that Izumi is almost incapable
of. “All right, all right. Just find him a nice wife, he’ll be happy as a clam
and forget all about you. Unless he’s like me. Then find him a lovely young man
with eyes like the sea.”
“He likes women, thankfully. Very interested in how I look like one at the
right angles, let me tell you.” Annoyingly enough, he’s starting to sober up,
and he reaches half-heartedly off the side of the bed, looking for the bottle
of wine. “He’s a good kid. I just don’t know what to do with him except kiss
him. He’s not even my type, honestly, but…”
“Your type is pretty varied,” Arashi points out. “Besides, I don’t think he
likes women as much as he lets on. Remember the night you came home? He was
plenty interested in my amaka.”
“It’s not varied if you actually look at the details.” Izumi’s fingers finally
graze the top of the wine bottle, and he grabs it, hauling it up onto the bed.
“Arashi, Mika really looks like a girl.”
Arashi’s foot plants squarely in Izumi’s hip, and he shoves hard, knocking
Izumi off the bed. “No more trash talk about my lover, you die next.”
Izumi yelps, falling right onto his ass, still cradling that wine like it’s his
last lifeline. “That wasn’t trash talk, fuck! He’s beautiful, but he looks like
a girl, think about that coming from me for two seconds.”
“You give him a complex all the time,” Arashi accuses, stretching out. “That’s
why he gives you such a hard time. Don’t pretend you don’t know that’s not a
compliment for me, we just talked about how much I dislike sex with women.”
“Well, you still fuck a lot of guys that look like women, congratulations,”
Izumi growls, slowly hauling himself back up onto the side of the bed. “I don’t
give him a complex all the time, I don’t even know what you mean by that.”
“Being as hot as you are. You make him insecure. He thinks he’s ugly because
he’s missing an eye, you know.”
“I…what do you want me to do about that?” Izumi asks, honestly at a loss. “I
can’t stop looking like myself. It’s not like I tell him he’s ugly or that I’m
more beautiful than he is, either. I think I’ve only ever complimented him,
actually?”
Arashi throws up his hands. “I don’t know! Figure it out, I’m sick of him
glaring at you like he wants to light you on fire.”
Izumi gives into the urge to just tip more wine into his mouth. “Logically, we
should have a threesome.”
Arashi opens his mouth, then shuts it again. “I’ll ask.”
“Tell him I’ll do anything he wants. Then maybe he can feel better and stop
making you kiss me less.”
“Act really toppy,” Arashi advises. “He loves that. And offer to pay for him,
it’s how he works through his trauma, for whatever reason. Just play along with
me, yeah? If he says yes. And I bet he will, he thinks you’re sexy and he’s mad
about it.”
“Oh, that’s easy. I’m a good top,” Izumi firmly insists, another mouthful of
wine down. “You saw. He saw, too. Heh, that’s probably why he’s so mad. Would
he want me to talk to him like I do Leo, or…”
“Probably,” Arashi admits. “He kept talking about it after--fuck me like the
snake, I’m getting sick of hearing that.”
“Is this why you’ve been refusing to even just make out with me?”
“That, and because Mika has started hissing like an angry kitten whenever I
come back smelling of you.”
“That doesn’t work for me,” Izumi mutters, immediately sidling up to Arashi
again and snuggling against him. “Time for you to reek of me and the expensive
oils you only get when you’re fucking the prince.”
“Totally sexy. Who doesn’t love being told that they reek?”
“Stop being a bitch. I smell good.” Izumi takes another swig of wine, then
grabs Arashi, hauling him down and kissing it into his mouth. “Tell your
kitten,” he mutters, licking his lips, “to stop being so jealous so we can
play.”
Arashi swallows, gulping down wine that cost more than his horse, He lets out a
slow breath through his nose, then nods, pulling away. “I’m gonna go talk to
him,” he says softly, standing up. “Because I’m not sure how much longer I can
be around you without flipping you onto your back. Keep your legs closed for
like nine minutes, would you? Give it a shot?”
“If it takes you nine minutes to convince him, you’re not doing it right,”
Izumi flippantly says, flopping over onto his stomach. “But fine, I’ll be sweet
and wait for you, Milady.”
“Give me time to walk there and back, bastard!”
Though he doesn’t walk, he runs, because the lure of Mika is strong. He knocks
on the door of the room they share, sing-songing, “Mika daaaarliiiiing, are you
here?”
Mika slowly cracks the door open, blinking up at Arashi as he leans around it.
Done with all of his foot-retrieving, he’s naked, contently so, save for a
blanket lazily draped over his shoulders. “Arashi? Eh…are you done with the
snake? Did his foot grow back all the way?”
“Completely, and rather quickly.” Arashi’s mouth curves into a fond, genuine
smile. “Naked again, amaka? Waiting for me, or just comfy?”
“Boooth.” Mika leans up onto his tiptoes as he lets the door open a bit more,
and flops his arms around Arashi’s neck, snuggling up against him. “Mmn. Warm.
’s good when your shirt is open, you look good. Smell like snake, though, boo.”
For a moment, Arashi wants to tell Izumi to go fuck himself--Mika is his, he’s
fought hard to get to this point, over years and years of stupid waiting and
suffering and fear, and having his arms around Mika now is the best possible
reward for all of that. He nuzzles into Mika’s warm neck, hands softly resting
at the small of his back. “You smell good, too. Like you. Mm, you’ve got such a
lovely smell, you know? I’ve loved you so long...”
Mika’s eyes lid, pleased, and he flops forward against Arashi further, nuzzling
right into his neck. “Kara…mm, you should come play with me,” he murmurs, idly
leaning up to snake his tongue right into the inside of Arashi’s ear. “I wanna
talk about how much I love you, too. And rub on you until you don’t smell like
snake.”
“Mm...about that, darling...” Arashi shudders, eyes rolling back as he tries to
remember what he came here to talk about. “He likes you, you know, you should
give him more credit...”
“Uh huh.” Mika’s tongue drags down along the curve of Arashi’s ear, idly toying
with  his earrings. “Dunno what that means.”
Arashi whimpers, grabbing at Mika’s ass. “It m-means...means that you’re not--
ahh, he wants you, you know, he thinks you’re very beautiful, told me all about
it.”
Mika’s eyes narrow suspiciously, and he pauses, releasing Arashi’s ear to tilt
his head, frowning. “The snake,” he says, “thinks I’m beautiful. Since when?”
“Since the night he took Leo over the table. And...heh. I might have mentioned
how insatiable you are, and he’s just as bad...” Please bite, please give my
penis a rest.
“Mmm.” Mika’s head cocks a little further, his hair falling over his golden
eye. “Kara…are you…” His lips twitch. “Are you sellin’ me?”
“Eh? I didn’t ask for any--”
Arashi catches himself, a little too late to be graceful about it, remembering
far too late that Mika loves this sort of play. “I mean...yes. He offered me,
ah, a few bottles of very nice wine for a little playtime with you, and I just
couldn’t say no, you know how much I love wine!”
Arashi is cute, and that makes up for the slip. It’s easily forgotten, anyway,
when he promptly plays along. “Ehh…must’ve been some really good wine, then,”
Mika murmurs, leaning up to nip at Arashi’s ear again. “If y’sold me, then
deliver me properly, yeah?”
“Now, that, I can do.”
Arashi scoops Mika up, tossing him over his shoulder, feeling himself twitch in
his breeches at the play for the first time in a while. His body has always
been more settled, more willing to wait until he rouses it by touch, but damed
if some of the things Mika does don’t make him break that pattern.
It’s not a long walk, and Arashi’s legs are long and swift, bearing him back
down the hallway. Then he opens the door back to the room, beaming. “Izumi,
darling, I brought you a--well, I’d say it’s a gift, but you’re paying me for
it, aren’t you?”
Izumi, dangling a bottle of wine off the side of the bed, promptly sets it
down. He had half-expected this to not work at all—Mika’s a fickle sort, and
not the kind he really understands—but…here he is, dangling over Arashi’s
shoulder. “With, ah. With every bottle of fine wine I had left to my name,” he
quickly settles upon, hoping that’s the right answer. Judging by the way Mika’s
toes curl, it is.
Did you two plot this out?Mika almost asks, but that would ruin the fun,
besides. Like this, Izumi is far less of a threat. He squirms on Arashi’s
shoulder, kicking his feet uselessly. “Put me down,” he huffs. “Or I’m gonna
lick your ear again.”
“Yeah, toss him down over here,” Izumi says with a laugh, scooting over on the
bed. “I’ve been bored waiting for you two, anyway.”
Nice, Arashi mouths to Izumi, along with a grateful smile. He dumps Mika on his
back on the bed, leaning down to say softly, “You’ll be good for the fine
gentleman, won’t you? You wouldn’t want to embarrass me?” It’s not as though he
and Mika haven’t played this sort of game before, though usually it’s him that
Mika wants to have as a ‘fine gentleman.’
Mika’s face colors, and he huddles up underneath his blanket, torn between
squirming visibly and being a bit more shy about it. He shivers all the same,
refusing to look at Izumi until it’s Izumi’s hand that makes him, slender
fingers grabbing his chin.
“Look at you, you’re so pretty,” Izumi murmurs, licking his lips as he spares a
quick glance towards Arashi, making sure he’s watching. His other hand lifts,
pushing Mika’s hair out of his face. “I paid good money for you, so let me see
all of you.”
Mika trembles visibly, holding Izumi’s gaze for a moment before his gaze
diverts, flicking down when his eyes unfocus on their own accord. “I…I can’t
look at you for too long, Milord. It hurts.”
“That’s all right…mmn, come here,” Izumi sighs, scooting closer, tipping Mika’s
chin up again. “Just shut your eyes, I don’t mind.”
So help him, kissing someone so soft and beautiful is nice. Maybe Arashi’s onto
something thinking he prefers pretty boys like this, because grabbing Mika and
kissing him deeply makes his pulse thud fast and hard immediately, especially
when he feels Arashi’s gaze on them.
Arashi sucks in a long breath, eyes gone dark with lust. This is nothing like
watching Izumi’s school friend Makoto slip his cock between Mika’s lovely plush
lips. This is Izumi, who’s as good at the words and the motions as anyone
Arashi knows, who can undo even him with a glance. “That’s a good boy,” he
murmurs, sitting on the edge of the bed, running a finger down Mika’s neck,
twining it in his hair. “Ah, you two look so...mm, right, but I don’t think I
took all that money just for a kiss, do you, sweetheart?”
He grabs the edges of the blanket, pulling it off of Mika’s shoulders, leaving
him bare. Then he presses a kiss to Mika’s shoulder, and murmurs, “I’m going to
stoke the fire, so we can see all of that lovely body.” Then he moves, leaving
the bed to throw an extra log on the fire, grabbing the bellows to fan the
flames.
Mika squeaks when he’s suddenly bare, hastily shifting back to curl himself up
for warmth until the fire starts to actually heat the room further. Izumi
snorts, grabbing Mika’s hands, pulling him forward and forcing him to uncurl
immediately. “None of that, you’re too lovely. Here, just—“
Izumi flips him deftly, pressing Mika facedown onto the bed, hiking up those
lean hips and letting his cock press into the curve of his ass, only the fabric
of his breeches still in the way. “He has such a way of moving,” Izumi murmurs,
leaning forward, brushing Mika’s hair off of his back to drag his fingers down
his spine instead, watching him arch and squirm with a little gasp. “You’re a
dancer, aren’t you? Maybe I should’ve paid more to see that.”
Mika swallows hard, burying his face down into the sheets. Embarrassingly
enough, his own cock is far harder than he expected it to be—Izumi is
beautiful, Izumi scares him, Izumi pisses him off, but… “I…”
“It’s all right, you don’t have to talk.” Izumi plants a long, sucking kiss to
the back of Mika’s neck. “Arashi told me how much you like to hear me talk.
What were some of your favorites, I wonder…”
“Make him dance later,” Arashi suggests, leaning back on the bed, eyebrow
raised. “When you’re dripping out of his hole. Ah, I forgot to ask, Milord--do
you prefer him as a boy tonight, or as a girl? My Mika is quite talented at
both disciplines, you know, and ways of speaking.”
Arashi leans forward, sliding a hand under Mika, toying with a dusky nipple,
rolling it between his fingers, then tugging hard. “Do you want to give him
some samplings of your skills, my sweet?”
The noise that leaves Mika’s throat is high and breathless, and he whimpers,
grabbing helplessly for Arashi’s hand. “I…ah…”
“You can be a pretty boy tonight, it’s fine,” Izumi reassures him, his fingers
sliding up through Mika’s hair to fist in close to his scalp, pulling his head
back. “You’re so red already—lucky me, your hair’s long enough to make for some
lovely reins.”
The way Mika shudders at that is tell-tale, and Izumi snorts, amused. “He’s so
easy,” he says, giving Mika’s ass a light swat, releasing his hair and watching
how he melts, shivering, squirming back against Izumi’s cock with an arch of
his back. “Grab the oil, would you? I want to see how easy it is to make such a
pretty bitch loose himself.”
Mika dissolves. He buries his face back down into the sheets, panting shallowly
as his body decides it’s already time to come at least once. He whimpers,
rubbing his flushed face down, tears already pricking at his eyes. “S…sorry,
I—“
Izumi’s mouth goes dry. “…Guess you really did like the lines I pulled on Leo,
huh,” he murmurs, reaching down to unlace his breeches. “Don’t worry, I have a
lot of them.”
“Perfect,” Arashi breathes. They’re both so gorgeous to watch--Izumi looks
damned dashing when he’s in control, and Arashi has thought many times that
it’s a crying shame his tastes don’t run that way. He can appreciate it now,
watching Izumi boss Mika around, yanking and shoving at him, moving him where
he wants him. And Mika--gods, Arashi will never get enough of looking at Mika,
the way he tenses and shudders, the way he shivers and whines, the way he
pushes back already, his body contorting and convulsing in pleasure. A part of
him still, always, wants to dive in and touch, running his hands over that
delectable, supple skin...
But this isn’t really about him. This is about letting Mika have someone who
can actually go as many rounds as he can for once, someone who’ll actually
treat him exactly the way he (on some level) needs to be treated. “He’s got a
nice cock, this fancy gentleman,” he murmurs instead, eyes dragging down
Izumi’s body, then back up again. “You’ll have to show him how grateful you
are, don’t you think? Someone who’s paid all that money doesn’t care if you’ve
just come, he wants you to be a good plaything.”
“I’ll be good, I’ll be good,” Mika groans, letting himself be flipped over
again, flopping onto his back. His thighs splay automatically, his cock already
twitching again against his stomach, no matter the mess on his thighs. “I’ll…g-
gods, I…”
“Look at this mess you’ve made,” Izumi murmurs, dragging his fingers up through
it, and immediately shoves those fingers past Mika’s lips, dragging them over
his tongue. Mika swallows noisily, panting, his eyes lidded as he sucks on
Izumi’s fingers without thinking. “Luckily, it seems like you want to be a
mess. Mmnn, let’s see…”
Delving underneath a pillow produces results, and Izumi uncorks the bottle of
oil with his teeth, tossing it aside. He pulls his hand away from Mika’s mouth,
pouring a generous amount of oil over his fingers before sliding a pair of them
home, groaning breathlessly at the way that Mika immediately clenches down,
squirming down onto his hand. “That’s worth the money,” he breathes, his eyes
fluttering, tongue flicking out to wet his lower lip. “Arashi…come here, feel
how hot he is inside.”
Arashi’s hand twitches, but he retracts it, letting it drop to his side with a
little flutter. “I’ve felt that hole before, Lord Izumi. It’s quite nice, but
tonight it’s for you, don’t you think?”
Except his self-control is never that good. He turns to the side, grabbing
what’s left of his beautiful bottle of wine, draining it in a few gulps. “You
get on in there, sir. I’ll slip a finger in once you’ve got him whining on your
lovely cock. Then we can really open him up, don’t you think?”
Mika whimpers, his eyes rolling back at the thought alone when his cock gives
an over-eager twitch against his stomach, dripping over already sweat-slick
skin.
“He does seem to like that idea,” Izumi murmurs, his fingers pressing in long
and deep, slowly curling them until Mika exhales a long, breathless whine,
trembling all the way down to his toes. “It almost seems like a shame to stop
playing with you like this…but, heh, I guess I did buy you for the whole night,
didn’t I?”
Izumi drags his hand out, wiping it on the bed before he unravels his laces in
short order. The head of his cock rubs against that tight hole for only a
moment before he hauls one of Mika’s legs over his shoulder, too-riled to wait
any longer before he shoves in, hard and deep.
The noise Mika makes gets caught up in his throat, a breathless, ragged sob as
he arches underneath Izumi, grabbing for him with long, sharp fingers, and
Izumi exhales a rasping laugh, grabbing for Mika’s hands to shove them up and
over his head. “You don’t need to grab me to get what you want,” he breathes,
pulling back just to shove in deeply again, holding Mika down and letting the
slap of their hips together speak for itself. His own eyes flutter, a ragged
grunt leaving his lips. “I know—what a mare in heat needs.”
“Fuck,” Mika whimpers, his thighs trembling as he gets his other leg around
Izumi’s waist, his body already clenching too-tight, little spasms already
threatening to send him jumping over the edge again at any moment. That’s not
fair. He shudders, sagging down.
“There we go, that’s a good boy,” Izumi mutters, his gaze briefly flicking up,
catching Arashi’s. “Hard to believe you’d sell him,” he breathes, leaning back
to let Arashi get a better view. “But look at him, he fucking loves it.”
“I can’t tell if he’s just a slut for any big cock,” Arashi muses, eyes alight,
scooting close, “or if you’re just breeding him perfectly. Nice and deep,
that’s how you deal with a mare in heat, the only way. Got to seed them right--
but you know all about that, don’t you? You’ve got all those big beautiful
horses up North, you must know how to get a mare on the first try...”
He shifts forward, grabbing at Mika’s chest again, trailing his hands over his
nipples, pinching and rubbing. “Look at this good boy, he’s being good for you,
isn’t he? You should--reward him, the more seed you put in him, the better
he’ll behave, isn’t that right, Mika?”
Mika nods immediately, his fingers curling into his own palms, face flushed
hot. “I w…wanna be good,” he whimpers, his chest arching helplessly underneath
Arashi’s fingers. “I—“
“Every time you pull on his nipples like that, he squeezes down so tight,”
Izumi groans, letting his weight sink into the hand holding Mika’s wrists down
to hold him firmly in place when he grinds in, hard and deliberate. “Like he
really w-wants me to fill him up—“
Another, hard thrust, and Izumi lets that tension pour out of his body in a
long, aching wave, his head tipping forward as he pants raggedly with every
pulse of his cock. “There,” he hisses through his teeth, his eyes briefly
shutting. “Fuck, you’re gonna be so full soon.” His fingers paw down over
Mika’s stomach, pressing down slowly. “I don’t quit, you know—have to make sure
you’re bred.”
Mika jerks with a whimper, turning his head to the side to bury his flaming
face into his own arm as his cock twitches, dripping messily over his stomach,
and Izumi tilts his head back, giving Arashi an amused look. “Yeah. You were
right, good purchase. He’s almost as easy as I am.”
“This is the best idea you’ve ever had,” Arashi says frankly, watching with
appreciation as Izumi fills his lover, watching both of them tense and writhe.
It’s something he’s never really been able to explain to anyone’s satisfaction,
much less his own, but being with them this way, watching them, being a part of
it but without his cock in the picture, feels almost completely as satisfying
as being one of the star players.
He strokes Mika’s face tenderly. “You’re doing so well, amaka, you’re making
him so happy, making me so happy--are you nice and full? If I know you well,
even that much isn’t enough--and he comes so much, let me feel your belly to
see if he bred you right.” He grabs Izumi’s hand, sliding it down with his own,
pressing down on Mika’s belly.
Mika’s trembling lips part, a whine leaving his throat as he squirms.
“D…don’t—“
“Too much?” Izumi says, almost sympathetically, though his hand pressing down
as he thrusts forward with a groan says otherwise. “Ahh…fuck, you’re a mess in
here,” he mutters, his eyes glittering. “But I don’t think it took, so I’ll do
it again, just to make sure. D’you like seeing him like this, Arashi? Or would
you prefer I have him some other way?”
“Hands and knees,” Arashi says, eyes suddenly alight. “He usually hates that,
but--amaka, what if I’m in front of you, your back is so beautiful, let me see
it arching, and you can look into my eyes the whole time, how’s that?”
Hesitation flickers across Mika’s face, but Izumi doesn’t wait for him to
decide—he just moves, pulling out while he flips Mika over. “Remember, you
liked it when I said these could be my reins,” Izumi breathes, fisting a hand
up through Mika’s hair to pull his head back. His cock, already hard, nudges
against Mika’s hole, and presses in again, a low groan leaving his throat as he
slides in deep. “Mmn…that’s good, right?”
Mika’s body responds before his mind does, and for that, he’s grateful. Izumi
feels good inside of him, already hard and hot and filling him, and it’s hard
to be nervous about being taken this way when it already feels good, and
Arashi… “’s good,” he gasps out, vaguely remembering words, his back arching on
its own accord when Izumi shoves in, yanking on his hair as he does. His hands
knead into the bedsheets, eyes lidded, glazed when he gives into the urge to
grind back, his knees setting themselves further apart.
“Look, he really must be in heat,” Izumi murmurs, breath hitching as he slides
in deep and stays there for a moment, petting a hand down Mika’s trembling,
arched back.
“I’d thought you knew the right way to breed a mare,” Arashi murmurs, sliding
down the bed. He grips Mika’s face gently, cupping his chin, thumbing over his
plush, inviting lower lip. “You’ve never seen a mare on her back for a
stallion, have you? No, that’s only for pretty whores. For someone like
this...”
He captures Mika’s mouth in a long, filthy kiss, sucking on his lower lip,
flicking his tongue over it.
Mika whimpers against Arashi’s mouth, his voice high and breathy as he tries to
lurch forward for more of those kisses, but Izumi isn’t having it. His scalp
burns when his head is yanked back, and he gasps into the air, his eyes rolling
back when Izumi thrusts so perfectly into him that his entire body tenses and
shudders, his mouth falling slack.
“You’re so easy,” Izumi taunts, bending over him from behind, twisting Mika’s
hair around his hand, pulling on it when he grinds in deep, repeatedly hitting
that little spot deep inside that keeps making Mika tighten up and rut back
helplessly. “Maybe—I should’ve paid a bit more, t-then I could’ve kept you for
another day, just to make sure you were bred—“
He’s cut off with a low, rasping curse when Mika clenches down tightly around
him, coming again with a weak, breathy whimper. “T-too much, too much,” Mika
sobs, his nails clawing into the bed, though nothing about his body language
says stop. “P-please, I can’t—“
“Too bad, I’m still going, and I paid for you,” Izumi grunts, shoving Mika down
with a hand between his shoulder blades. Mika sags with a groan, trembling and
breathing hard, his cheeks flushed hot. “Ever gotten him to say that before,
Arashi?” he teases, idly reaching under Mika to tweak one of his nipples. “He’s
awfully good when he’s already gotten off…what? Three times?” Mika shudders
again. “Maybe four?”
“Ahh, if you keep playing with those...they’re going to get very sore. Or maybe
they already are?”
Arashi pets Mika’s hair, hands tangled in it, and finally starts easing his
breeches laces open. “If it’s really too much,” he reasons, “he won’t want any
more. He’ll be too full and sore, don’t you think?”
He pulls out his cock, achingly hard and dripping, just centimeters from Mika’s
face. “What do you say, darling? Want me to put it away, is it too much?”
Izumi eases up on the hold on Mika’s hair, just enough to see Mika hungrily
lurch forward, his tongue flicking out to wet his lower lip. “Doesn’t look like
it’s too much now,” Izumi murmurs, loosening his hold a bit more, petting his
hand down Mika’s back instead.
Mika struggles to reach up a trembling hand, reaching for Arashi’s cock, but
Izumi gives his ass a sharp slap, making him stop with a squeak. “You don’t
need your hands to take care of him. Why don’t you ask him for it, mare?”
Mika’s chest heaves, the idea of words when he’s full of Izumi’s cock and could
have Arashi’s potentially in his mouth making his mind trip over itself.
“K…kara…”He swallows hard, licking at his lips. “P-please, I…I wanna taste it,
fuck my mouth, please…”
Arashi’s breath hitches, and he leans forward, rising up onto his knees, cock
in hand to feed it into Mika’s mouth, pushing past his lips without asking any
kind of permission. The wet heat is familiar, but not overly-so, and he groans,
eyes fluttering in pleasure. “Never...really get to do this,” he pants, rutting
in shallow thrusts against Mika’s lovely face, watching his length disappear
inside over and over and over, a little faster each time no matter how he tries
to control himself. “He loves it inside him so much, can never--wait, never
wants me to, to finish this way, but you’re so pretty like this...now you’ve
got a nice big stallion inside you that isn’t tiring, isn’t that nice, amaka?
Suck it, go on, show me how you love the taste.”
Watching Arashi lose control for once is an experience. Izumi watches, licking
at his own lips as he watches how Mika swallows him down, licking and sucking
eagerly, the obscene, wet noises that leave his throat making his own cock drip
and throb where it’s buried in Mika’s ass. “You’re good at that, huh?” he
murmurs, his fingers sliding back to the task of finding an already-abused
nipple and slowly pulling it when he grinds forward, long and hard. Mika’s eyes
roll back, a groan stuck in his throat, and Izumi hears the way that he
frantically breathes in through his nose.
Uninterested in being kind—Mika doesn’t want him to be, besides, that’s the
point—Izumi exhales a grunt as he thrusts in hard, shoving Mika forward, until
his nose buries against Arashi’s stomach, that hard cock stuffed completely
down his throat. Mika’s breathy noises are a bit more frantic now, but he
doesn’t struggle to get away, and Izumi decides that’s permission to keep
fucking him hard. “You better be good,” he pants against Mika’s hair as he
leans forward, getting more leverage to shove in, “and swallow all of him up
when he comes.”
“I genuinely cannot believe both of you are still going,” Arashi groans, then
laughs, leaning back on his hands, hips thrusting forward hard, bumping at the
back of Mika’s throat with every thrust, a small impact that makes him pant
shallowly. “This--this is good, wear each other out, I’ll take the choice bits.
Ah, wait, I mean, are you getting your money’s worth, Lord Izumi? Is, ah, his
hole still sweet for you? Tighten up for him, love, make sure he’s getting what
he paid for, you know how I love good wine.”
Mika’s eyes roll back, and he swallows down hard with every thrust of Arashi’s
cock down his throat. His eyes water, spilling hot tears down his aching, ruddy
cheeks, and he trembles as he obediently tries to squeeze down around Izumi’s
cock, even if he’s fairly certain the muscles in his body are starting to give
up.
“You’ve trained him so well,” Izumi gasps, his fingers biting into Mika’s hips
when he thrusts forward harder, unable to help himself when Mika trembles
around him like that. “D-don’t worry, I’ll come back every time you’re in heat
like this, it doesn’t matter the price—“
Mika shudders underneath him, twitchy and shivery and so, so, pliant, and Izumi
spills inside a second time, grabbing at Mika’s hips to pull him back onto his
cock and keep him there. He pants raggedly, feeling the sweat drip down from
his hairline and down his back, and he wipes a hand across the back of his
eyes. “That’s a good boy, taking all of that in you,” he breathes, rubbing a
hand down Mika’s spine. “Just…ah…make sure you take good care of Arashi, he can
use your mouth for as long as he likes.”
“F-fine words,” Arashi says breathlessly, grabbing Mika’s hair to hold him in
place, rutting helplessly against his lips. “But I, ha, I don’t think I’m
lasting much--”
He slides forward at an exact perfect angle, and the head of his cock slips
into Mika’s throat. The sudden tightening sensation is too much, and he gasps,
crying out as he jerks, swearing to three different gods by the time he
finishes spilling into Mika’s mouth. “Sorry, sorry, I--wait, no I’m not sorry,
you’re so good,” he gasps, remembering belatedly amid the swirl of sensations
that he doesn’t need to apologize for coming somewhere besides inside Mika.
“You’re--worth the coin, eh, Lord Izumi? Gods, amaka--”
Mika swallows noisily, lurching forward a bit more to make sure Arashi stays
down his throat for every drop. When he finally starts to draw back, his lips
are slick and red, and he pulls off with a grateful, full inhale of breath.
“Kara,” he dazedly murmurs, “y’taste so good…”
“I don’t think I’ve ever see you get off that fast,” Izumi laughs, giving
Mika’s ass a gentle pinch, which makes him squeak and squirm. “Definitely worth
the price tag. Here, pretty boy, wriggle back on me, I’m already almost hard
again.”
“A…already?” Mika groans, sagging forward. “At least…at least let me breathe
for a second, I…”
Izumi pouts, fixing an accusing stare on Arashi. “You said he was as bad as me.
False advertising, where’s my refund?”
“As far as I’m concerned you’re both ridiculous,” Arashi groans, flopping
uselessly to the side. But the act must go on, he supposes, until they’re both
satisfied--and he can’t wait to see Mika actually worn out for once, anyway. He
lifts a hand, cupping Mika’s cheek. “Go on, darling, show him he’s getting his
money’s worth. I don’t ever want to hear that you’re insatiable again after
this...”
Mika huffs and flops down, burying his face into the bed. “I give up.”
“Not fair,” Izumi grouses, leaning forward to nuzzle at the back of Mika’s
neck. “Here, roll this way, I’m just gonna keep it in you, if you don’t mind.”
He flops sideways, pulling Mika back against him to spoon. Mika settles back,
pleased with this, and Izumi crooks a finger towards Arashi. “Come here. Let me
kiss you while I probably get off again in your pretty lover.”
“I ain’t doin’ any work,” Mika mutters contently, his eyes lidding.
“See, this is why I have to kill Inglings to get fine wine,” Arashi says
affectionately, mussing Mika’s hair before crawling over to Izumi. “At least
they follow through when they say they’ll kill you.”
He slides his tongue into Izumi’s mouth, then curls up in front of Mika,
throwing a leg and an arm over both of them. “Just keep it in him all night,
let’s see how full his belly is when we wake up. Gods, I love you both.”
Mika mumbles a low, pleased sound at that, too sated to growl or complain or be
jealous, and his face buries down into Arashi’s chest with a soft sigh.
“He’ll kick me out at some point, trust me,” Izumi says with a breathless
little laugh, leaning over Mika to kiss Arashi back deeply. “Thank you,” he
adds softly. In another life, I’d like to find myself here.
Why can’t I have both of you, forever, again?Arashi’s smile is wistful, and he
tugs them both close. “As long as you’re both here when I wake up, I’ll be
happy.”
 
~
 
Leaving for the Capital is bound to be treacherous, and Izumi knows it’ll be
even worse if he continues to be as recognizable as he is.
So—
Unhappily, Izumi agrees to dye his hair.
Inconveniently, no dye seems to stick to it.
“Not even henna?” Mika exasperatedly says, the dye stuck to the skin of his
fingers, but still dripping from Izumi’s damp hair after the fourth attempt of
the day. “Damn. That stuff dyes everythin’. Maaaaster, that didn’t work either,
try a glamour!”
“Having anyone’s signature on me is a bad idea,” Izumi wearily points out,
pushing the wet curls of his bangs out of his face, watching the color
literally roll off of it and drip into the towels in his lap. At least his hair
is already much longer, content to keep growing under his continued
encouragement. “I’ll just…wrap it all up, I guess. All the time.”
“Travel as a woman.”
Of course it’s Natsume that says that, dressed as a perfect, prim noblewoman in
the doorway of the common room that overlooks the sea, his hair done up in
heavy curls that tumble partially down his back. Izumi stares unhelpfully for a
moment, eyes drawn down to his impossibly tiny waist in that tight corset, and
Natsume scowls, arms folded over his chest (which is padded, just a little).
“Stop looking at me like that, you disgraceful rake. If you travel as a woman,
better, his wife, no one will question the two of you.”
“I mean, he’s prolly right,” Mika says, shrugging. “Ain’t no one expecting a
man and his lady.”
“The prince looks like a girl as much as I do,” Izumi protests.
“Ehhh, debatable…”
“Shut up. Why do I have to—“
“Because if he’s the prince, then he’s had every man’s role and part beaten
into him from day one,” Natsume interrupts, rolling his eyes. “And you, heir
from the North, have already had experience as a woman more than once, am I
wrong?”
Mika’s eyebrows raise, and Izumi’s mouth falls open. “Who told you?” he flatly
demands. “How could you know otherwise, you little—“
“No one has to tell me anything,” Natsume flippantly says, golden eyes
glittering. “I just know.”
“…N…Natsume, aren’t your powers all sealed up ’n stuff, though?”
Natsume’s lips purse. “Fine. I sort of guessed, after watching you. But I was
right, wasn’t I? I’m always right. Besides,” he says, abruptly hiking up his
skirts to reveal the veritable arsenal underneath, a blade seemingly on each
layer of his petticoat and strapped to his thighs. “This is just the extra
artillery. If your aim is to protect the prince, well, there’s not a better way
to hide a ton of weapons on the road…”
“N-Natsume, how long have you been hiding all of those?” Tsumugi asks,
horrified. He moves around the room, tidying up discarded bottles of dye,
discarded scarves used to wrap hair, anything that the assorted nobles have
decided against using. His arms are full, and more than once he drops
something, then has to reach down and pick it up, usually dropping more things.
“It’s very clever, to hide all of those, but won’t it be dangerous? What if you
move the wrong way and prick yourself?”
“I think it’s wonderful!” Leo says enthusiastically. “I’ll wrap up my hair like
I did in the Sandlands, and maybe I’ll find a wig! Ooh, wait, can we pretend to
be commoners? Like, really poor ones?”
“You’re going to be traveling with Lord Izumi’s prize horse, aren’t you,
Highness?” Tsumugi asks, dropping a bottle of dye on his foot, turning it
brown. “Ah, oops. Surely no commoner would have such a creature?”
“Better dye him,” Mika says sagely. “He looks real recognizable, too.”
“You’re not dyeing my horse!”
“Better than keepin’ him here, even kara doesn’t like dealin’ with him.”
“You uselesstrash, I’ve kept these on me since I’ve gotten here!” Natsume
snaps, reaching back and ripping out another dagger from the back of his
corset. “I’ll stab you with this one right here if you don’t stop dropping
things!”
Tsumugi freezes mid-action, and another bottle tumbles to the ground, spinning
slowly, then rolling across the room. “Ah...sorry, Natsume, I’ll just pick that
up.”
Leo whistles through his teeth. “Do you two go around other people ever? Do
they believe you’re married?”
“They’re very convincing,” Arashi says with a laugh. “Everyone thinks she
married him for his money.”
“They do?” Tsumugi asks, scandalized.
“They act like every other married couple I’ve seen,” Izumi dryly says.
“Die, die you useless man!” Natsume hisses, stalking after him to whack Tsumugi
across the back. “What other reason would someone marry you?! Ugh, and to think
I ever thought you were cool—“
“Maybe a bit more violent, but close enough.” Izumi twists around, peering at
Leo, unable to stop himself from teasing, “Sure you’re all right with your wife
being taller than you?”
“You’re over thirty! You gross pervert! You weak excuse of a wizard! What good
are you, Lord Rei doesn’t even have to hide your powers because they’re so
weak—“
Mika idly picks up the box of dyeing supplies and trots after Tsumugi. “You can
just…kinda put everythin’ in here, I’ll clean up the rest…” Or else Natsume
really might stab you.
“Ah, thank you, Mika. Oh, ow, by the way! Please don’t hit me quite so much,
Natsume!”
Leo slides his arms around Izumi’s waist from behind. “Promise me we’ll never
get like that. Even if you want me for my money and my shiny crown.”
“Don’t say ow so far after the fact, it makes it obvious that you feel nothing,
you gross, weak—“
“We’ll never get like that,” Izumi says as he leans back into Leo’s hold,
eyebrows raised. “Know why? Because I alsowant you for your cock.”
“Anyway!” Natsume huffs, whirling around in a twirl of his skirts. He reaches
back, sheathing his dagger gods know where, and glowers at Izumi and Leo. “By
bringing you here, I know Lord Rei has put you in my capable hands.”
“Ah…”
“Almost all of my clothing was made by Lord Shu himself,” Natsume says proudly.
“You’ll be honored to even touch it.”
“A lot of it was made by Tsumugi,” Mika whispers as he plops back down. “But
Shu helped teach him, soo…”
Natsume glares. “Mika.”
“I hate the way he says my name,” Mika complains, covering his ears.
“I’m really not very good at sewing,” Tsumugi frets, “but I’m certain His
Excellency Shu would be able to make you something very beautiful.”
“No, no, make him a simple peasant gown!” Leo insists. “We’re going to be
peasants, right?”
“Your Highness, the horse--”
“Oh, right! Wahahaha!”
“The last time you tried to be a peasant, you still wouldn’t stop wearing your
fancy earrings,” Izumi reminds him, turning in Leo’s arms to grab him by the
shoulders and give him a firm shake. “And Vale is coming with us. We aren’t
peasants. We’re too pretty to be peasants, besides.”
“You gotta dye him,” Mika reminds him. “Seriously.”
Izumi’s lips purse. “…I’m going to dye him something sexy, like black,” he
grumbles. “It’ll wash out, right?”
Mika shrugs. “I mean, eventually…”
“I hate every part of this,” Izumi mutters. “Whatever, fine. Thank the gods
Vale likes you, Milord.”
“Everyone likes me. I’m exciting, wahaha!”
Arashi giggles, waving a hand, delighted by the spectacle. “Not to worry,
darling Izumi. Captain Morisawa dyes his horse’s mane in a few different ways
depending on the time of year, I know he has some good non-toxic dye.”
“If we’re not peasants, what are we?” Leo complains. “What’s easy to pretend to
be but fun to dress up as?”
“Wealthy merchants on business.”
Tsukasa nods politely to the rest of the room as he enters, sweeps a bow
towards Leo, and promptly takes a seat. “My lady was kind enough to come up
with papers for both of you, so it won’t be an issue for you to enter the
Capital,” he says. “It’ll be easy for you to travel there if you pretend to be
a merchant and his wife, seeking out new business contracts. So,” he begins
firmly, “you’ll need to be convincing. That goes for both of you. Your
Highness, you’ll need to stay composed, and Lord Izumi, you’ll…need to watch
your mouth.”
“Fuck you.”
“See, like that? That doesn’t work. Wealthy merchant ladies are typically well-
mannered, demure—“
“I know what ladies are like, thanks. Worry more about the prince.”
“I’m a great merchant!” Leo insists, and immediately sweeps into a low bow,
forehead almost touching the ground. “Good evening, m’lords, my fine, fine
lords, can your humble servant persuade you to purchase some delightful wares?
Straight from High Harbor, only the finest for you lords, carried ‘em here on
my wife’s back, I did!”
Tsumugi hastens to set down the box of empty bottles so he can applaud.
Arashi stifles a laugh, and instead nods. “Very good, Your Highness. Ah,
perhaps less on the, um, accent? If that’s...what you were doing?”
Natsume stares at Leo, arms folding. “If my husband made me carry anything on
my back—“
Tsukasa winces a little, but applauds all the same. “Very good, very good, ah,
but perhaps Lady—er, Lord, whatever, Natsume is right…perhaps less of the
‘carried on your wife’s back’ bit, you’re going to be married to a fine lady…”
“What kinda accent was that, anyway?” Mika butts in, unimpressed as he flops
down onto the floor, cheek resting against Arashi’s thigh. “All of y’all from
the capital all sound the same…”
Izumi snorts, giving Leo a nudge with his foot. “Get up, Milord. You’re
convincing enough.”
“Let’s see you curtsy,” Mika snidely tosses over.
“Not without a skirt, whelp.”
Leo straightens, obviously grumpy. “If I can’t use an accent, I’m not doing
it,” he declares. “I’d rather just ride in as myself and damned to the
consequences.”
“How about a Sandlands accent, Highness?” Tsumugi suggests.
“Ah, good idea! You lived there for a few months, didn’t you?” Arashi asks.
Leo frowns, then tries again. “Howdy, y’all Lords ‘n Ladies! Mightn’t y’all be
wantin’ some of these here fancy goods ‘n stuff? It’s right purdy!”
Mika bursts out laughing immediately.
“Please stop criticizing his accents,” Izumi hisses. “It’s not safe to head to
the capital as ourselves. Milord, both of them are fine, just—“
Mika shakes his head frantically, still laughing. “Noooo, not the Sandlands
one—“
“Can you control him for five seconds?” Izumi growls at Arashi.
“Maybe try a Northern one,” Mika giggles, listing to the side. “Jus’ curse
every other word ’n talk like you’re a hick—“
“I’m going to rip your tongue out.”
Leo shakes his head, annoyed. “Can’t do Northern. Your mom’s leading a faction
to try and destroy the Capital, right? So everyone from the North will be
suspect. I mean...Darn near evry’one from th’North’ll be in a right fancy
poodle of a trouble!”
Arashi bites his cheek so hard it draws blood, nails digging into his palm to
keep from laughing.
Mika fairly cackles, toppling completely onto his side on the floor. “Ooh, ooh,
do the West next! I wanna hear what y’think Arashi sounds like!“
Izumi sits down, burying his face into his hands. “You,” he says, staring from
between his fingers at Tsukasa, “you encouraged this.”
“I haven’t said a thing!”
“I’m blaming you. Accept it.”
“I don’t have an accent, darling. Wait. Do I? Do I? What does it sound like?”
Leo scrunches up his face. “I can do a lady-style accent, but I dunno much
about the West.”
“You know, I’m not sure if that’s an insult or a compliment,” Arashi says
warily. “Anyway, you’re missing daylight. Oh, Ritsu wanted to bid you farewell
before you left, Izumi darling.”
“I’ll go find a nice wig…and dresses that’ll fit you,” Natsume says with a flip
of his hair, shoving past Tsumugi on his way to the door. “I mean, you’re
fatter than me, but, hmm…”
“I can’t wait to leave,” Izumi says, exhaling a long breath as he rises. “I’ll
go say good-bye to him and then dye my horse, I guess. Milord, do you need any
help packing?”
“I’m not the one bringing lots of dresses,” Leo says slyly, giving Izumi a kiss
on the cheek. “Have fun, meet me in the stables. Just like old times, eh?”
Arashi bites his other cheek.
Izumi stares after Leo, and then slowly turns to look at Arashi. “Not a word,”
he flatly says, and promptly stalks out of the room.
Ritsu’s room is situated as far from any common room as possible, to insure
peace and quiet during the day. He knocks quietly, too, just to make sure. None
of them have seen much of Ritsu or Mao since their arrival, except for Ritsu’s
occasional appearance in the kitchens, but one can assume they’re alive.
Ritsu opens the door, with just a towel slung around his waist. He yawns, but
more from sleepiness than from having just awakened, and he beckons a hand.
“Ahh, good, you remembered, I forgot. Come in, I have a present for you.”
“I wasn’t going to disturb you,” Izumi admits, stepping inside. Mao, still very
asleep, doesn’t as much as stir once, but Izumi does take note that he’s naked
underneath the quilts, with the scar left from the Academy’s poison still
obvious on his chest. “But Arashi told me you wanted to see me before I left.”
He hesitates, voice lowering even more. “Is he…doing all right?”
“He’s healing,” Ritsu assures him, and moves to the desk, pulling out a roll of
parchment, stamped with an embossed seal, written in beautifully flowing
calligraphy. “I asked around about what kind of reward you’d want for saving
his life. Most people said wine and horses.”
“I mean—they weren’t wrong,” Izumi says with a startled blink. “But you don’t
have to give me anything. You saved my life back in the Capital, I figured I
was just returning the favor.”
“He’s everything to me,” Ritsu says simply. “If I saved Leo’s life, you’d wanna
give me something, right?”
“Of course.” Izumi hesitates, then sighs, a wry, almost-smile tugging at his
lips. “Fine, I won’t turn it down. I’m glad I was able to help him.”
“Good answer.” Ritsu hands over the paper, then tousles Izumi’s hair. “That’s
the first one of those issued in, uh, three hundred years? Wait, was it three
thousand? I forget...”
Izumi steps out from underneath Ritsu’s hand, now eyeing the roll of parchment
warily. “Do I…do I open it? Or is this like some magical thing that’s going to
unleash demons upon this world or something?”
“Um, it’s an import contract, so definitely not gonna. Unless you want to
import those.”
“Sure, okay, keeping that in mind. Then, ah, thank you for the extremely rare
import contract. I’m assuming, based on what others told you I liked, it’s for
wine and horses.”
“Yeah.” Ritsu gives him a sleepy smile, then turns away, curling up on the bed,
the conversation obviously over in his mind.
Izumi lingers for a moment, then leans over, lightly mussing Ritsu’s hair. “I
hope you’re both well, the next time I see you,” he quietly says, and sweeps
from the room, the door clicking shut behind him.
“There you are.”
 Natsume moves like a cat, too-quick, too-flighty, and it takes Izumi by
surprise when he reaches out, grabbing him abruptly by the arm to drag him down
the hall. “Lord Shu is going to help dress you, and then you can be on your
way.”
“Uh—I need to go dye my horse first, I think—“
“Your prince has that covered.”
“I don’t think my prince has anything like that covered,” Izumi hastily
disagrees.
Natsume ignores him, manhandling him abruptly into his dressing chambers. “Lord
Shu was generous enough to step away from his work to help make you look like a
proper lady,” he insists. “So appreciate it!”
“What, like it’s hard,” Izumi mutters, heaving a sigh. “I do know how to wear a
dress…”
“If you don’t wish to look like an absolute fool,” Shu says without looking up
from his task, pins in his mouth, hands straightening a final hem, “you’ll
submit to everything I want to do to you. Take off your clothes and put on that
slip first.”
Izumi’s lips purse, but he does as he’s told, stripping and folding his
clothes, setting the rolled parchment on top of them. “I can’t help but feel
like you’ve been plotting this for some time,” he dryly says, pulling the slip
on over his head.
“Don’t flatter yourself. I plan dresses for every exceptionally lovely boy and
girl I know. With a very few, I actually make the gowns.” Shu straightens up on
his knees, then stands, handing over a series of odd undergarments meant to
conceal everything between the legs and give form to false breasts. “Only very
few have actually had the honor of wearing them.”
Natsume flounces his way into a chair, dropping down there delicately. “Shu’s
made lots of dresses for me,” he says proudly. “And I get to wear all of them.”
“Yeah, because it’s your job to look like a convincing homewrecker,” Izumi
deadpans, grimacing as he dresses, entirely too grumpy about it. This is fine,
it’ll get us into the Capital, and we won’t be hassled along the way. “The last
time I dressed like a girl…ugh.”
“What’s ugh about it? I’m beautiful,” Natsume snaps. “Tsumugi’s the problem.”
“Literally no one mentioned that guy.”
“When did you last dress like a girl?” Shu asks, incredulous. He unfastens the
hooks and snaps, then helps Izumi into it, doing up the buttons that lace the
back. “You make a rather fine one. Nice arse.”
“Right, I think we were both drunk when I mentioned it,” Izumi wearily says,
sucking in a breath to make it easier for Shu to lace it up. He’s helped dress
enough ladies after the fact to know that much. “My mother wanted a girl, so
for the first bit of my life…well. In the North, no one really questions such
things.”
Shu looks up, mouth quirking. “You and Natsume have something in common, then.
Now suck it in, I want--oh, you already are? Damn, hold on, I need to relace it
in the front.”
“I’m nothing like him,” Natsume growls. “I’m the youngest Nightcloak the world
has ever seen—“
“You’re a pretty princess, give it a rest,” Izumi tiredly says, scowling at
Shu. “Don’t lace me in so tightly that I can’t ride a horse properly!”
“It’s not my fault your unusual proportions make your waist look smaller than
it is,” Shu criticizes. “There, that should do it. Natsume, the wig, please.”
“He’s saying you’re fat,” Natsume snidely says, hopping up to retrieve the wig
in question, long and ice-blonde, with waves already styled into it.
“I’m not fat, to hell with you both.” Izumi draws in a test breath, satisfied
that he’s not cinched in so tightly that he won’t be able to function normally.
“Do I really need that much hair?”
“It’s fashionable for ladies to have long hair right now. And if you’re married
to a wealthy merchant, then this is what you get.”
“If your hair would only take dye, we wouldn’t need to do this. Hmm...but I
cannot say that I’m displeased with the result. My tailoring skills are a bit
rusty, but at least you look absolutely stunning, yes, yes, Natsume, tell me
how lovely he looks!”
“I can’t believe I have to do this,” Izumi groans, shutting his eyes. “Maybe I
should just say screw it, and shave my head.”
Natsume takes a step back, hands on his hips as he critically looks Izumi up
and down, over the layers of white and blue ruffles and lace that make up a
perfectly fancy, but still perfectly suitable traveling dress. Combined with
long, blonde hair, and he does, unfortunately, look like a lovely court lady on
an excursion, not a spot of makeup needed for already high cheekbones and pink
lips. He huffs, annoyed, and shrugs. “He looks fine, I guess. But only because
it’s you, Shu. Can you walk in heels?”
“Can I, what kind of question is that, to hell with you.”
Izumi lifts up his skirts enough to see where his feet are going as he slips
them into the short heeled boots with a grumpy noise. “Be grateful I have tiny
feet. Are you done with me? I need to go say good-bye and have Arashi strap my
sword into my skirts, I suppose.”
“I recommend daggers, or you’ll purse the fabric,” Shu says, tapping his chin
as he walks a slow circle around Izumi. “But yes, I’m done with you. Go, and be
safe, my potion won’t be done cooking for another week.” Please hold on until
then, Rei.
“No one can stop me from taking my sword,” Izumi firmly says, and because he
doesn’t hate Shu, he tries not to roll his eyes as he gives a surprisingly
polished curtsy, the bend of his knees and bow of his head easily mimicking a
court lady’s. “Stay safe, Milord,” he says sweetly, taking his voice up a neat
octave before he collects his gifted scroll, and strides out of the room and
back down the hall. “Arashi! Arashi, come help me, there’s no way I can hide
all the sharp things I need by myself!”
Arashi’s face is a perfect mask of shock as he looks at Izumi. He blinks, then
looks again. “Um. I, um. You look. Very, ah. Cute!”
Mika peers from around Arashi, actually looking at Izumi for once. His eyes
double in size, and he looks abruptly away, blinking hard to clear his vision.
“Whoooa. You look like a cupcake.”
“I—“ Izumi flushes, trying not to glare at both of them. “Can you please just
help me figure out how to stash some weaponry in all of this mess?”
“Go on, kara,” Mika teases, giving Arashi a little nudge forward. “Lift the
pretty lady’s skirts.”
Izumi glowers, stuffing the parchment down into his corset. “Honestly, he’s
right, you should get some practice.”
“I told you, if I ever get married, I’m just going to let someone else put the
bread in her oven,” Arashi says crossly, but he removes a few of his hidden
sheathes, then kneels to strap them around Izumi’s waist and thighs, and one
around his ankle. “Don’t lift your skirts too high, or it’ll show. Oh, looks
like Shu sewed you a very deep pocket, if you want to plop a dagger in there.
As for your sword...hmm. Mika, amaka, can you do a spell to make it smaller, or
maybe to make the pocket expandable or something? I’m still not sure what all
you can do.”
“This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done,” Izumi sighs wearily,
staring up at the ceiling. “Honestly, if I still get recognized as this, I’ll
just cut my own throat and hope for the best.”
“Prolly won’t work, you heal too fast now,” Mika hums, and kneels down,
flipping up Izumi’s skirts to get at that pocket. “Hmm…I can try, I just hope
it isn’t too heavy after the fact,” he frets, but gives it a shot, anyway, and
purple flames lick far too close to his legs for Izumi’s liking.
“Can you refrain from magicking me?” Izumi demands, relieved when Mika climbs
out from underneath his skirts again, shaking out his hair.
“Ehh, I think I managed.” Mika grabs Izumi’s sword off the table, and crawls
back under, stuffing it into that pocket. It slowly disappears completely, and
he leans back, satisfied. “Not too heavy, is it?”
“It doesn’t feel like it’s even there, actually…which is disturbing.”
“Good, I win.” Mika hops back to his feet, dusting himself off, and looks
between them before shrugging and meandering away. “Y’all say goodbye, I gotta
go help Master with his spells.”
“See, aren’t you sad that you have to go play warrior instead of staying behind
and watching your foot cook with me?” Arashi teases, leaning in to give Izumi a
long kiss on the lips. “Have fun in the Capital. Try not to kill too many of
the men on the list, leave me something to do when I get bored.”
Izumi leans up, grabbing Arashi by his shirt to kiss him back with a little
sigh. “I’ll see what I can do, but I really want to ruin this dress with some
blood.” He rocks back onto his heels, giving Arashi’s chest a light pat. “I
hope the only news you get from the Capital is that the king has agreed to
willingly step aside, and we’re all hiding for nothing,” he quietly says. “For
Leo’s sake.”
“For Leo’s sake,” Arashi echoes, nodding, then thumps Izumi’s chest in return.
“Keep the voice up. Don’t let his Highness do too many silly accents, you’ll
get noticed. Get that little wretch on the throne, and don’t let anyone scare
you.”
“Like anyone’s going to scare me when I’m wearing this and can’t die,” Izumi
scoffs, and he gives Arashi a little curtsy. “Be good without me, Milord, or I
won’t kiss you when we reunite.”
Involuntarily, Arashi makes a face. “Just...take off the dress, before you
offer to kiss me again. I’m begging.”
“I’ll show up naked,” Izumi reassures him with a snort. “Keep that in your mind
instead of this mess until I return.”
With that, Izumi strides off, making good use of the last chance he has to walk
as quickly as a soldier would off to the stables. Outside, it’s been raining,
and he gingerly picks up his skirts, making his way across the courtyard.
“Milord?” he calls, peering down the stable hallway. “Please tell me you
haven’t turn my horse into a travesty…”
“I think he’s beautiful and very sexy!” Leo declares. “I had a lot of help from
young master Hajime here.”
He turns, then catches sight of Izumi, and stumbles back, hand over his heart.
“What...gorgeous lady! Marry me at once, be my princess!”
Hajime peeks out from Vale’s stall—somehow, unscathed—and blushes at the sight
of Izumi. “I…I tried very hard to make your horse look nice, Mi…lord…”
“Save it,” Izumi mumbles, flushing hot at Leo’s reaction and folding his arms
over his chest. “Does that mean we’re ready to go?”
“One more thing.”
Leo hefts up a saddle, plopping it on Vale’s back. It is, markedly, not Izumi’s
saddle. In fact... “It’s a side saddle! So you can ride even in your skirts
without being indecent, haha!”
“Delightful.” Izumi walks over to Vale, who is now darkened to an almost jet
black. He looks as put out about this entire affair as Izumi does, and promptly
leans forward, trying to nibble on the ends of his wig. “Stop. Well, my lord
husband, this means you get to help me up, if you want me to stay decent.”
Leo’s face flushes, and he lifts Izumi by the waist, hoisting him up onto the
saddle. “Milady gets to ride astride the large horse, due to the beast’s gentle
stride. I’ll be on the beast that pulls the cart!”
He gestures, to his own painted warhorse, Tempo, who’s currently sporting a new
style of his own, hooked up to a cart stacked with supplies, the supplies that
theoretically he’ll be trading in the Capital. “He likes it, don’t listen to
his whining. He’s just bored and ready to go!”
“That’s not the face of a beast that likes a cart,” Izumi dryly points out,
grumpily adjusting himself on the saddle, wishing now he’d taken those lessons
Arashi had jokingly offered now. He smoothes his skirts with a sniff. Whatever,
it’s time to use this whole getup as something entertaining—that is, to fluster
Leo by simply existing. “Take a gentle pace with me, Milord,” he says, pitching
his voice up with a flutter of his eyelashes. “Your wife is hardly accustomed
to travels, long or short.”
Leo scrambles up onto his own saddle, face flushing as he urges them towards
the gates, pointedly not looking at Izumi. “I should just force you to stay
like this,” he says through gritted teeth, adjusting himself in the saddle.
“Then I won’t have to take any proper wife, and I can just worry about getting
stabbed by feeling up your undergarments.”
“Force me? Milord, how crass,” Izumi huffs. Vale hates this as much as he does,
tossing his head grumpily as Izumi guides him to fall into stride only a pace
behind Leo’s horse. “If you like me in a skirt so much,” he hums, “all you have
to do is ask and I’d let you flip it.”
“Is it good if I ask for it?” Leo asks slyly, fingers combing through Tempo’s
mane as he tries to gentle the horse into a brisk walk instead of the easy lope
he desires. “Ah, easy, ya great wee beastie, we’re takin’ th’ long road
t’th’Capital, aye we are!” He ends with a thick burr on his ‘r’s, then looks at
Izumi, eyes hopeful. “How’s that accent?”
“Delightful, Milord, but might I caution against anything too…mm, showy? We are
supposed to be from High Harbor proper, and so that means something milder, I
think.” Izumi pauses. “And to answer your other question, you know, you’re
right. Flip it without asking.”
“Well, if you’re mine, then your skirts are mine too, logically,” Leo points
out with a grin. “I’ll drop the accent for the moment. When we meet someone,
it’ll be a surprise! Even I don’t know what I’ll do!”
“Nothing too showy,” Izumi firmly repeats. “It’ll draw too much attention to
us. I already have trouble keeping my voice that high for too long, so
appreciate your shy, demure wife that married you for your money, and maybe
your freckles. Oh, remind me, when we stop for the night—Ritsu gave me a thank
you gift, and it’s some sort of trading agreement. It might be helpful in
negotiating with your father.”
“Eh? A trading agreement? Ritsu’s from the West, there’s no trade problems with
the West.”
“I don’t think it’s from the West. He isn’t, really.” Izumi tugs the parchment
out from his bodice and breaks the seal on it with his nail before passing it
over. “Here, you can look at it now, if you like.”
Leo scans a few lines, then has to dash to catch the paper as the wind whips it
from his suddenly numb hands. He grabs it tighter, and reads it again.
“Wuuooohohohohoho! Wow, wow, wow! This--this is incredible! Wahahaa, if you can
drum up some capital, you’re rich for life!”
“I like the idea of being rich for life,” Izumi quickly says, kicking Vale
forward to sidle up closer to Leo. “Do tell, do tell. Richer than the crown? Or
rich like Kasa?”
“Rich like everyone in your Northern Kingdom could live like a nobleman if you
felt like sharing,” Leo says, no hint of a joke in his voice. “There’s...I
mean, my history lessons are vague because I don’t usually pay attention, but
I’m pretty sure there haven’t been Shadowsteeds or Shadewine within our borders
in like, a thousand years? I heard Shadowsteeds can fly. But I’ve also heard
that they shoot lightning out of their eyes, and their hooves are made of black
glass that can cut through diamonds!”
“Oh. I want one.” Vale tosses his head, snorting irritably. “Sorry, Vale, I
don’t mean it. But I do, I really do want one. I thought those were just
legends—and Ritsu said it had been either 300 or 3000 years, so I’m guessing
somewhere in between. Give me that paper back,” Izumi orders, holding out his
hand. “I’m keeping that safe. That should help benefit your reign when you take
the throne, don’t you think?”
Leo passes the paper over with great care. “Um, yes. Not to mention, Shadewine?
Legend says that a single swig of it can make you immortal for ten minutes. Or
that you can walk through walls...or that you can grow five times your own
size. Or that you get really drunk just by smelling it. Listen, it’s been a
long time.”
“That sounds like something I need, personally,” Izumi admits, tucking the
paper away carefully into his bodice again. “Strip me carefully tonight,
Milord, so that you don’t damage such precious cargo. I’ve made good friends,
you see, by healing the right people.”
“Keep being clever about it,” Leo suggests. “And I’ll live long enough to strip
you carefully every night. Isn’t that a nice incentive?”
Izumi bats his eyelashes at him. “Considering I don’t remember the last time
you’ve stripped me, Milord, yes—yes, it is.”
“Maybe I didn’t feel like waiting in line.”
“There’s never a line for you.”
Leo laughs, and pets Tempo’s neck. “There’s a good boy. Don’t worry, I won’t
scandalize your ears with stories of what the maids told me, about cleaning
around Captain Arashi’s room last night.”
Izumi heaves a long sigh. “Why are you listening to maids? They won’t ever tell
you the full story of things, they just like to run their mouths. Besides, I
feel disinclined to bother you when you’re already sleeping.”
“I don’t know, they were quite enthusiastic about your...prowess.” Leo bats his
lashes. “And here I thought you only used those special words with me.”
“He overheard it at the welcome back party and wouldn’t shut up about it,
apparently,” Izumi groans, his head falling back. “I was doing Arashi a favor,
you know? Mika wears him out. Ah, he’s nothing like you, though, he doesn’t say
it back, that’s far less fun.”
Leo scoots Tempo closer to Izumi, and tugs on his skirts. “I remember,” he says
softly, “when you first made love to me. I said I was glad you wouldn’t be
running around with women anymore, you deflected. I...I didn’t think I had to
say it about men, since you said you’d only been with a couple, and only when
you couldn’t have me. And you’ve decided, somehow, that it’s fine to have any
man you like, and I don’t really remember agreeing to it. And I’m not saying I
hate it--but I honestly don’t remember having that conversation. Have I gone
mad?”
“‘Keep fucking your friends, I trust them all.’ Does that not ring a bell
because you were drunk?” Izumi sighs heavily, staring up skyward. “Leo, I told
you—if you wanted me to only be yours, I’d do it. But you waved it off, you
know.”
“Oh. Did I?” Leo laughs, head thrown back, and Tempo echoes the noise,
whinnying and tossing his head. “I did forget! See, this is why I asked!”
“That’s really quite stressful.” Izumi rubs at the bridge of his nose,
exasperated. “Right. At the risk of sounding like I’m insane—I can’t really
help it. I’ve tried.”
“Tried? Tried what?”
“To not sleep with anyone else but you. Remember that week when I was driving
you up the wall, eating you alive every spare moment we both had?”
“Ooh. Yeah. That was quite a lot of you naked and inside my arse.”
“Yes. And that was me holding myself back often. This is why I go to other
people, you see; I don’t want to annoy you. You’ve got your own schedule, and
most of the time, I’m satisfied with something that takes two minutes. I’d much
rather spend time with you, not time spent in your ass every damned second.”
Izumi’s expression is wry. “Not that I don’t like being there. That’s just not
the only thing I want from you.”
“Right, right. Just...” Leo’s smile is wry in turn. “I’m your mare. That
particular talk--save it for me, will you? I know, you probably think that’s
silly, but...”
Izumi winces. “No, no, I don’t think it’s silly. I’ll save it for you, I
promise.” He shrugs helplessly, sending waves of his newly acquired blond hair
tumbling from his shoulders. “Though to be fair, who’s the mare now?” he jokes.
“Ah, don’t flip it around on me, though, you can just talk to me as if I’m
truly your lady. You make a dashing prince even after all this time.”
The grin Leo flips him is roguish, but he quickly melts it into something
elegant and courtly, with a bow of his head to match. “I would that my lady
would always find me so. My dove, entrust to me thy most precious thing, thine
heart, and I will keep it to my own in safekeeping. From now, until the end of
time, or until thou hold me in such high esteem as I, thee.”
Izumi feels his face heat up in spite of himself, and he flutters a distracted
hand. “Stop it, stop it, I’m going to fall off my horse,” he complains—but it’s
a half-hearted complaint at best. “You’re too good at that and it’s terrible.”
“Too good? That was amazing,” Leo protests. “Four uses of the elevated you in
two sentences? I’m incredible! Heh, at least my tutors beat one thing into me
properly. How’s sidesaddle, by the way?”
“Obnoxious, but here I am, not dead yet. Talk prettily at me more, Milord, and
take my mind off of how stupid I look. I mean, I’ll admit, it would be a damned
shame if you don’t tumble me at least once when I’m dressed up like this, but
still.”
“Oh, it’ll happen,” Leo assures him. “I’m certain that even a middling wealthy
merchant can afford a private room at some wayside inn, no? And we have, what,
five or six days to the Capital, traveling at this pace?”
“Excellent. Five or six days to muse on our fates and consider how, if nothing
else, I have an import license with the Shadowlands.”
“Yeah! Ahhh, I don’t even know what that’s going to mean. Isn’t that exciting?
The world is still new! After all this time...” Leo swallows hard, eyes shining
wet with excitement as he looks around. “Some things are still good and
interesting and new!”
Izumi’s smile is wry, but he nods, glancing to the tail of Leo’s hair, which
just won’t stay properly bound no matter what he does. “And some things are the
same, and that’s fine, too,” he quietly says, leaning over to idly tuck Leo’s
hair back into his hood. “I like that you haven’t changed a bit.”
Leo ducks his head, then catches Izumi’s hand, bringing it to his mouth for a
kiss. “But my lady’s eyes are ever constant,” he says, courtly again, “as the
distant moon, and my ever-sought companion. Bury me in thy moonlight,
entrancing nymph, and I will be thy illuminate slave.”
Izumi’s heart threatens to thud its way out of his corset, and he struggles to
do anything but flutter for a moment, finally settling with jerking his hand
away and pointedly looking forward. “W-wait until I’m prepared next time, at
least!”
“Ehhh? You just said to talk prettily at you some more!”
“Well—you—“ Izumi huffs, feeling his face continue to flush no matter how he
wills it not to. “You’re very charming. It…it’s startling.”
Leo pokes Izumi’s side, teasing gently. “Just because I don’t do it all the
time doesn’t mean I’m rusty. I am your prince, you know. I also know thirteen
kinds of waltz.”
Izumi turns his nose up, swatting Leo’s hand away. “I know. That, ultimately,
is why I’m going to marry you some day.”
“I know. I’ve already composed our wedding waltz.”
Izumi’s cheeks darken further. “Maybe I should just stay disguised as a woman,
then,” he murmurs. “A shame I wasn’t born one, honestly—the prince and the only
Northern heir, that would’ve been a solid match.”
“I know,” Leo says glumly. “They used to talk about it all the time, when you
were young--you know they were angry about you long before you got to the
Capital, right?--because they thought your mother would eventually marry one of
them, or die childless, and either way the North would be theirs. You ruined
that, you clever bastard page.”
“Ahh, I’m so relieved, ruining their plans from the moment I was born. That
does sound like me. Please tell me the moment you declare yourself king you’re
going to start calling me your bastard knight, by the way. It has such a nice
ring to it.”
“A lovely ring--but you’ll have to be my bastard squire for a little while,
first. Tradition, you know.”
“Let me skip it, shouldn’t extended years as a page roll over into all of that?
Plus, you know, unprecedented skill in battle, the fact you adore me…”
Leo rolls his eyes. “I thought you might want to squire for me, you ass. You
get to be my valet for a little while, sleep in my bedchamber, dress and
undress me...but of course, I understand, your dignity is important.”
“But I’m going to do all of that anyway.” Izumi smiles at him sweetly. “So why
not let me just be a knight, finally, and give my poor, battered ego a rest for
once while I still wait on you hand and foot?”
“Oh, yes, I’m sure that doing more things irregularly will let you win over the
hearts and minds of those nobles who already think you flaunt every custom,”
Leo says dryly. “Try not to make every ally into one of my enemies on my first
day?”
“What’s going to be irregular about it? I’ll be the most dedicated knight
you’ve ever seen, undressing you and sleeping in your bedchamber every night.”
“You’ll have the same duties as a knight, just take the title for one damn year
and let me call you my bastard squire!” Leo huffs. “A knight belongs to the
realm. A squire belongs to his master. Of everything you want to skip, it’s the
part where you’re publicly mine?”
“Hate to tell you, but as a knight, I’m still going to belong to you,” Izumi
sniffs, undeterred. “I’m hearing you, but you could just change a few laws, let
us be wed, and then I’m forever publicly yours. I’ll be your wife, I will. I
have a number of the skills necessary, and who knows, maybe because I’m half-
blooded, I can even get pregnant.”
Leo snorts. “Sure. I’ll just change a law that says any men can wed, I’m sure
that won’t cause any rifts or issues in the kingdom. Now, if I actually can get
you pregnant, then I’ll just declare you a woman and marry you.”
“You can scoff at it, but in the North, there are ceremonies. Nothing that can
be officially recognized for tax purposes or anything like that, but…” Izumi
shrugs. “It’s something. But whatever, just keep trying to knock me up.”
“I’ve heard some snakes can change gender. My real question is, am I putting it
in the right hole?”
“Do you even remember which hole is the right one?”
“I mean, you never seem to complain, and you’re the only hole I’ve ever done it
with...”
“Well, for better or for worse, there’s still only one hole down there,” Izumi
deadpans. “Let me know if you need me to try and change it up a bit, then we
can see about some more silver-haired brats. That would create quite a stir,
wouldn’t it.”
“They’d be beautiful,” Leo says softly, completely serious. He holds Izumi’s
eyes, then grabs his hand. “I mean it. If you ever...if it ever happened. I’d
marry you. Our children would be kings and queens.”
“…The fact that I’m considering this should tell you exactly how much I love
you,” Izumi mutters, burying his face down into one hand. “Just marry me
anyway, you ass. I’d never look at another man or woman again.”
Leo snorts. “That would last about nine minutes, until someone walked through
and offered. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“Nope. If I was married to you, you’d never be able to get rid of me. You’d
hate every second of it and you’d never get anything done because I wouldn’t
stop chewing on you. Enjoy.”
“I’ll be the king, Milady will need to find entertainment while I run the
country. And you won’t be able to go to war, you know.”
“The insinuation I like going to war is hilarious. I don’t want to go out onto
the field and get filthy again, thank you, I’d rather train and manage our men
back home—but none of that matters, because I’m going to have horses from the
Shadowlands. I’ll be preoccupied, except for when you’re anywhere near me, in
which I’m going to eat you alive.”
Leo thinks about this for a long minute, then nods firmly. “You have yourself a
deal, Milady.” He reaches over and squeezes Izumi’s hand, adding more quietly,
“I’ll take an oath of fealty to you now. It’s not the same as a marriage, but
that doesn’t mean it’s less important.”
Izumi’s heart thumps hard. “Ah. Leo, Milord, that’s…you know, that’s not
strictly fair, when I’m not even allowed to swear to you as your squire yet.”
“You rejected my offer of being my squire!”
“I did not! You didn’t formally ask, you can’t, you’re not king! Have you been
apart from me so long that you thought I was doing anything but complaining?”
Izumi huffs, pulling his hand away. “Declare yourself king already and I’ll
swear as your squire in this damned dress if you like. Or if you’d rather I
not, and instead, swear to you as your lady, I’ll do that. Just tell me how
you’d like me to present myself in the Capital and I’ll do it, for you.”
Leo pulls his own hand back with a huff, aristocratic nose in the air. “Fine.
Ahaha, I’m probably putting the cart before the horse. I’ll worry about this
when I’m actually king!”
Izumi’s lips purse, and he shifts in his saddle, wincing as he readjusts his
legs. “What are you going to say to your father? We haven’t talked about that
in depth.”
“Probably because I haven’t decided,” Leo admits. “I go back and forth about
wanting to stab him and wanting to cry on his lap.”
“Leo. You have to go in assuming you’re king already.”
“Um, not to put too fine a point on it, my beloved squire-to-be, but I’m really
not, at all. My father is king.”
“And he, at the very least, tolerated the idea of having you killed.” Izumi can
feel his blood pressure rising. This would be why they haven’t discussed it
further, of course. “Fine. If you aren’t going in asking him to step down, what
are you considering?”
“First of all,” Leo says firmly, “there’s no evidence of that. Honestly. Just
because I hate his political opinions doesn’t mean I think he wanted me killed.
My uncle, now, he’s definitely a piece of shit, but if I accuse my father of
something I have no proof of, I’m no better than my uncle.”
“So then your plan is to go in and ask him if he has had anything to do with
it. Which, of course, he’ll say ‘no’ either way, because you’re a far more
convenient heir.” Taking the cynicism out of his words is nigh impossible at
this point. “Right, so, that happens—and then what? You forgive him and move
on?”
“What I was planning on,” Leo grumbles, “is not bringing it up first, actually.
I think it would be best to go in, and announce my joyous return. If he tells
the guards to attack me, then obviously, he’s a traitor, and I should challenge
him. But if he embraces me because he wants me as an heir, then I’ll demand he
give me more official duties so that I can start changing policies.”
“And your uncle? And every other corrupt lord running around in the Capital?”
Leo’s face is pained, twisting as he looks away. “You can charge them in court,
if you like. But if he takes me back, I have no personal proof that they were
behind it. I didn’t see anyone.”
Izumi’s heart sinks into his stomach. “You’re leading me into a lion’s den,” he
says, voice quiet. “They’ll charge me with treason, and your lovely father will
let them.”
“They can’t,” Leo says firmly. “My lovely father, as you put it, prevented that
from happening when he declared us both tragically dead at the hands of the
Demon King. Now, if my uncle and his fine lords claim we’re treasonous, it
makes father look weak, uninformed, and he’ll have to have my uncle declared
traitor as well. It’s his own fault, he broke about thirty laws, important
ones, when he went after us. If he’d declared it publicly with Father’s
approval, that’s one thing, but he didn’t. Either he makes Father look weak--
which Father won’t stand for--or he makes himself look like a traitor--which
means his life is forfeit, so he won’t do that--or he pretends he had nothing
to do with it.”
“The moment I try to charge them in court—it’s going to undermine your father,
too. Because then I didn’t die by the Demon King, obviously, I was in the
Sandlands being tortured the whole time. But they’ll deemthat appropriate,
because of all the testimony they apparently have against me already—and if
they’re saving face, they’ll artfully delete the parts about you, and hang me
out to dry…because I’ve been working with the Demon King the whole time.” Izumi
dislikes the growing panic behind his words, but it’s unavoidable. “So my
options now include keeping my mouth shut.”
“For the moment. I guess. I don’t know,” Leo groans, slumping forward. “This is
what me as a king is going to be like, you know. You telling me how bad my
decisions are, me worrying myself to death, every answer having thirty cons and
almost no pros.”
Izumi falls silent for a long moment, staring straight ahead, trying to ignore
his pulse pounding too-fast, too-loud through veins that feel uncomfortably
cold. “It’s very convenient for you to say things and then forget them, isn’t
it, Milord,” he finally says. “But it’s fine. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
“I--”
Leo growls, hands flexing, wanting to take a sword and slash through his
problems, though they’re incorporeal. “I just meant in Court. It’s not like
I’ll keep you from pursuing your private agenda--I just--I can’t promise very
much until I know what’s happening, I hate this!”
You already promised me a great deal.Izumi’s teeth grit, and he blinks hard,
keeping the sting of tears at bay. The urge to whirl his horse around and head
back to High Harbor, to grab Arashi and beg him to come to the Capital with
him—ah, but no, that doesn’t work either. Maybe if he heads north instead,
he’ll run into his mother. “It’s fine,” he says instead. “Do what you have to
do.” He nudges Vale forward, uncaring if it’s unseemly for a lady to ride ahead
of her husband. “Pick up the pace, I’d rather get to the capital sooner.”
***** Chapter 28 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
 Disobedient Wizards need to be punished.
Makoto wakes out of a dead sleep with sweat pouring from every inch of his
skin, staring up at the ceiling with wide, unblinking eyes. The voice had been
so powerful, speaking not just in his ears, not just in his mind, but
resonating in his very bones. It’s not entirely familiar to him, but he knows
who it is, even if he’s only met the Emperor twice and briefly.
 Open up to me, Makoto. You know you must.
Makoto shivers, knowing in his heart that he’s being watched, he’s being seen,
that Eichi can see into every part of his heart.
 Tell me where you are. Tell me where the traitors are.
The pain starts, just the way he remembers it from his days of re-education. It
starts in his bones, shaking them so hard his joints feel as if they’re about
to rip apart. His skull vibrates, so hard his eyes feel like they’re going to
dislocate, and tears stream down his face. They don’t actually go flying--the
pain is all in his head, he knows, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less, or
make him any less convinced he’s going to die.
 Tell me, Makoto.
 He grits his teeth, and thinks back, as firmly as he can, No!
The pain stops.
The laughter starts.
 Thank you for answering. See you soon...
Makoto’s heart sinks. Oh...what have I done?
***** Chapter 29 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
Nearly four days in, Izumi has steeled himself.
Perhaps a better phrase is ‘resigned himself.’ Traveling slowly gives him time
to mull over Leo’s words. Comparing them against Leo’s declaration on the
beach, when Izumi had been sobbing and mad—if I declare war on my father, if he
won’t denounce them, they’ll be war criminals—he has the opportunity to rid
himself of monsters in the realm, and if he refuses, it’s not the realm I want
to run—I’d do it, for you—let me carry you for awhile—it’s incongruous, and it
hurts. Rationally, knowing that Leo is just nervous, just trying to do what’s
right—none of that applies when Izumi’s heart aches in his chest, when his
pulse won’t stop pounding from anxiety, and being rather short with Leo for
several days straight isn’t making it any easier.
When he’s almost worked up the courage to say something about it, the road
ahead…comes to a stop. Specifically, there’s an enormous road block, riddled
with soldiers, and Izumi’s nerves are on edge for an entirely different reason,
his hand sliding down to the pocket of his skirt where his sword lies.
“We need to turn around,” Izumi quietly says before they get too close.
“There’s a few alternate routes—if we turn around now, we can still make it to
the road fork by nightfall.”
“You two! Come forward.”
“Shit,” Izumi curses underneath his breath, hands tightening on Vale’s reins.
The soldier that waves them in isn’t brandishing any weapons, at least, but
that means nothing. “That’s a Northern horse, I can tell a mile away,” he says
to the other man stationed with him, and Izumi exhales a slow breath. Maybe, if
they bolt now, leave the fake wares, they can escape without anyone catching a
real glimpse of them.
Leo moves forward, sweeping into a bow that was easier to practice when he
thought Izumi behind him would be smirking at him. The guilt has been worrying
at him harder than the nerves, and he feels his stomach turn over more every
time he tries to talk to Izumi and gets a terse response. He puts on a false
smile, and offers, “Good evening, my fine lords. We, that is to say, I am but a
humble merchant, headed to the Capital to sell my--”
Another guard pushes him to the side, eyes locked on Izumi. “You! A Northern
lady doesn’t let her man speak for her--you have a tongue? Are you a captive,
Milady?”
Izumi sucks in a nervous breath. Being recognized as Northern so easily—that he
hadn’t expected, but he supposes the look of his house is difficult to erase,
especially when he’s on a Northern horse. Vale shifts underneath him, snorting,
tossing his head when the guard steps closer, ready to lash out and act the
part of a warhorse than any tame mount for a lady, and Izumi’s fingers twitch
around the hilt of his sword.
But then, he looks at the man questioning him, and his heart pounds. “D…Dayton?
Sir Dayton?” He’s surprised enough to forget the pitch of his voice, even. The
North isn’t exactly full of people, and the officers in his mother’s armies he
knows all by sight. Izumi looks away, frantically back to the roadblock, and he
counts at least two other familiar faces. “Is this…holy shit.”
“Lord...Izumi?”
Dayton’s mouth falls, and he surges forward, to kneel at Vale’s feet, planting
his sword’s tip in the ground. “Lord Izumi, are you in distress? My sword is
yours, please allow me to take you to your mother’s court.”
“Up, up, I’m in hiding—“ Izumi glances about, making sure there’s no one else
on the road. Relief pours through him, hard and fast, and Izumi feels his knees
wobble. “I could hug you right now,” he manages with a laugh. “I’m fine,
I’m—yes, please take me to her, and—“ He spares a glance to Leo, his voice
lowering. “My companion is the prince, he needs to be taken into safety as
well.”
Dayton’s head whips to the side, and his eyes widen, but he doesn’t move. “I
understand, Lord Izumi. You’ll both be under our protection, for as long as
you’re with us. May I have your leave to lead your horse as you ride? It would
be an honor to my house.”
“Shouldn’t you be…” Leading the prince’s horse? Honestly. If these were the
manners he came to the Capital with, no wonder he was as good as dead from day
one. “By all means,” Izumi says, in too much of a hurry now to argue. “It’s
Vale, though. Fair warning.”
“It would be an honor to be bitten by such a magnificent beast,” Dayton assures
him, carefully bowing to the horse, then taking the reins, nodding to another
guard to lead Leo’s reins. Then he leans back, and confides, “Also, I’m wearing
chain mail and leather under this shirt.”
“Brilliant,” Izumi manages, jittery and restless now. My mother is here, this
entire area is full of nothing but Northerners, we’re safe, I’m safe.
 There are far more soldiers than Izumi remembers as a part of the North’s
forces—but needs must, he supposes. His mother has never been known to practice
restraint, which is where he got it from, or so he’s been told. All he’s ever
really seen of his mother is her sweet nature, with her sharp tongue mostly
reserved for when he’s late to sweep out the kitchens, so for her to be leading
an army for his sake…
His eyes start to water before he can stop himself, and Izumi holds in the urge
to sniffle, at least until he’s in private. They’re led straight through the
encampment, and just as he turns to say a few encouraging words to Leo, the
sight of his mother leaving her tent makes his heart stop. “Mama!” Did she know
I was alive? Who told her? Who even cares? “Mama, it’s me!”
Maya of the Sena house looks up, long dark hair spilling over her shoulders,
straight down her back, her chin held high and proud. At the sound of Izumi’s
cry, her brow furrows, and her eyes dart around, scanning the crowd until she
spots him.
The cup she’s holding falls, shattering. She doesn’t seem to notice. Its
contents splatter over her skirt, and she doesn’t notice that either, sprinting
forward, arms outstretched, ignoring the cup, ignoring the danger of Vale,
ignoring everything to grab Izumi out of his saddle, skirts and all, grabbing
him in a fierce and unrelenting hug as she spins him around. “I knew it, I knew
it, I knew it, I--my baby, my baby, I’m never letting you go, you hear?”
Izumi throws his arms around her, squeezing her tightly, and he only releases
her for a second to rip that obnoxious wig off, revealing the almost
appropriately long-enough tumble of silver hair, a tell-tale sign for any
observers that he is, truly, who he says he is. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he
whispers, burying his face into Maya’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean to worry you,
or make you do all of this—gods, Mama, the moment they told me you were
marching on the capital…”
“As if I’d do any less for you?” Maya squeezes him even tighter, then sets him
down, grabbing his face in her hands. “I’d dig that false king’s heart out with
a spoon and eat it for you.”
Izumi’s lower lip wobbles, and he bursts into tears, shoving his face right
back into her neck. “D-don’t say that, or I’ll go do it with you,” he sobs,
clinging to her tightly. “S…sorry, I’m so tired, I…” He hiccups. “I just wanna
change out of this mess and eat your cooking.”
“Of course, my love, of course.” She peppers his head with kisses, then drags
him back into her tent. Over her shoulder, she calls, “Give the other one a
reward and a bath,” then signals to her guards, who close the tent and form a
barrier with it between her and the outside world.
She gestures to the tub in the corner, kept chilled, next to a hot stone on the
ground and a tower of fluffy blankets. “Get out of that nonsense, I’ll start
cooking. You want the roast beet soup? I’ve got everything I need, even on the
road.”
“Ah—Mama—“ Izumi hesitates, even as he starts to strip, yanking on the lacings
of his dress. It’s easy enough to get out of it on his own when he works on the
front lacings only, and considering he’s been uninterested in having Leo yank
on his corset for the past couple of days… “The person with me—that’s the
prince.” It’s startling how many comforts of home are stuffed into one tent,
and he’s probably never stripped faster in his life, the allure of dousing
himself, full body into that tub, is impossible to resist. “I’m escorting him
back to the capital,” Izumi says, slinking down into the water with his eyes
fluttering once he’s entirely rid of dress and every obnoxious part about it.
“He’s…ah…you can’t let him be unattended, it’s too dangerous.”
“Unattended? Of course not, I’ll take care of it.” She looks over his dress,
blinking. “Hmm! These are fine, in their own way, but if you’re going to be
incognito, I’ll have you a fine Northern gown made. Now, is your prince loyal
to you, or shall I have him in less protective custody, and moreprotective
custody?”
“Mama, it’s not Northern because I’m hiding, you know? I was fitting in with
ladies from High Harbor, which fit in just fine in the Capital.” Izumi shuts
his eyes, flopping back against the side of the tub. “Leo’s…” Of course he’s
loyal to me, would be the words that would have left his tongue effortlessly
only a few days ago, but now, Izumi’s mouth twists. “Be nice to him. He’s
trying.” The words feel like ash on his tongue. “I just don’t agree with his
plans right now.”
“Is he aligned with his father?” Maya asks archly. “Or against? If against,
I’ll smuggle him into the city, and they can fight each other, which will make
it far easier for me to storm it. If he won’t stand up to his father, he can
wait nice and pretty in our camp until it’s all finished. Don’t make me come
over there and scrub you, your mother’s got red beet hands.”
“I’m soaking, Mama, let me for a second,” Izumi complains, sliding further down
into the water, until the ends of his hair can start to soak as well. His lips
purse, and he glances down, eyes lidding. “I thought he was against his
father,” he quietly says. “He told me he was. Then he…changed his plans, when
we left for the Capital.” He shrugs, scooping up handfuls of the cold water and
dousing his face before he grabs a washrag tossed over the side of the tub.
“He’s trying to do what’s best for everyone, but I’m…having a hard time seeing
it that way. It’s a long story.”
“Your brave prince sounds like a coward,” she says bluntly, and slices the tip
off a fat beet with a huge knife, the tip flying through the air. “Sweetheart,
you don’t need someone who won’t stand up for you. Get a good Northern man who
says what he means and stands for it--Dayton would be good to you, I always
thought you’d be quite a match.”
“Mama, Dayton’s not handsome enough.” Izumi sighs, his head falling back over
the side of the tub. “It’s a lot more complicated than that. Leo’s…he’s not a
coward, he…he just wants to please everyone.” He swallows, looking aside,
scrubbing at his face before he can start crying again. “But it still hurts. He
told me he was going to challenge his father—or at least, give him a chance
to…to prove that he wasn’t such a terrible man, by asking him to denounce all
the men that tried to kill me. But now he’s saying he has to talk to his father
first, to see if his father really wanted him dead and…and if his father didn’t
know about everything that happened, then I’m shit out of luck, because Leo
wasn’t there, he can’t be a witness. He said I can just go after them in
court.”
“Your prince,” Maya says, more carefully this time, “sounds like a boy. You
need a man, or no one at all. And all boys lose their looks eventually, you
know. Might as well go for one that doesn’t have any to begin with. Ugly men
work harder to please you in bed, it’s worth thinking about.”
“I’m too beautiful to be with an ugly man,” Izumi mutters crossly, giving
himself a last, thorough scrub before he hauls himself out of the tub, towels
himself off, and deposits himself straight onto the warming stone, bundling
himself up in blankets. “I just…he didn’t promise, but it sounded like he did,
you know?” His lower lip wobbles again, until he bites down onto it. “I’ve been
trying so hard. I refused so many chances to swear to other men, to actually be
someone in the capital, but instead I wanted to wait for him and be his squire
and now this…just feels like a slap to the face. If I go back to the capital
with him, if his father feeds him what he wants to hear, there’s no way he can
everkeep me by his side. Every single man that tortured me is still there,
sitting at the king’s dinner table, and I can’t…” His heart pounds, his mouth
suddenly dry. “I can’t keep my mouth shut and let them live. I can’t behave.
And it’s not just about me—I’ve made so many promises based on what I thought
Leo would do, but now I’m…I’m just terrified that it won’t happen unless I move
first.”
Maya spoons her soup into a bowl, then sticks a spoon in it, garnishes with a
fat dollop of fresh cream, and brings it over to where Izumi lays curled on his
side. “You’re not going into the Capital, that’s for certain. Not until that
King is dead, and I melt that stupid crown for scrap gold and put a proper
stone one on your head.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Izumi murmurs, slowly shifting at the smell of actual,
familiar food, and forces himself to sit up, taking the bowl from her. “Thank
you. Mama, I want the king dead, too…but Leo is the perfect choice, he just has
to get on the throne first.”
She smiles, and strokes his cheek, then pats it before standing up. “Good boy,
but it’s not really up to you any longer. I admit, I wasn’t sure if anyone
would follow me when I rose up against the King, but our army isn’t just
Northmen, you know. We picked up quite a few allies along the way. And not all
of them are here for your pretty face, Milady. We’ve got our own grievances
with that Royal Ass.”
That explains why the encampment is so much larger that he imagined it to be.
“That’s—Mama, that’s insane,” Izumi protests, setting his bowl down as his
appetite swiftly wanes. “You can’t be serious about trying to put me on the
throne. Leo’s the obvious choice—he’s literally right here! If we fight to
overthrow the king and help Leo be where he needs to be…”
“Sweetheart, I don’t care about him at all,” she says, without a hint of
remorse. “I care about you. And I’ve used you as a rallying point to get them
all here. Your death, though I never believed it, was a complete and total
affront to the law, and his response to it was not that of a good king. So. We
have a force larger than the Royal Army, and we have the right on our side.”
She beams. “Isn’t that comforting?”
“Mama, I love him,” Izumi blurts out over the sound of his thudding heart. “You
can’t just toss him aside. I won’t stand for it. I…” He swallows, glancing
down. She’s right, it makes sense, she’s doing what I wanted Leo to do,
but…“I…I have allies. In the West, in the Capital—in the Shadowlands, even.
Wizards, too. But—if we’re just tossing Leo aside, I won’t call them, you can’t
make me.”
Maya purses her lips. “Oh. Well. Then...talk to him. See if you can’t light a
fire under him. Now that you can both see what sort of forces are on our side,
he might have changed his mind. Being presented with another option can do
that, for people. Lesser people, who won’t do the bold thing no matter what.”
“…I’ll talk to him later.”
Izumi curls up with his bowl of soup, not really interested in eating it just
yet, but he does like having it. “I also have a list of every single noble
house in the capital that needs to die.” He braces himself, and carefully adds,
“And you have three grandchildren.”
“Well.” Maya sits back onto her heels, then brushes her hair back from her face
with shaking hands. “I suppose it’s about time. Nobles, I hope?”
“Yes, and all girls.” Izumi winces. “The annoying thing is that they coincide
with houses that are also on my to-kill list. Obviously, if possible, I’d like
to do something about it. None of them are older than two, at the most.”
Maya sighs, then nods firmly. “Well, then it’s been done. Tell me what you want
to do, and what you want me to do.”
“If we’re taking the capital…then I want them out first.” Izumi hesitates, then
huffs a breath, pressing forward. “And Leo’s sister, too, if possible. This is
non-negotiable. I’m sorry, Mama, I know you’ve been planning everything for
months, but I have, too. I’ll do it myself if I have to. Rains, Hennessy…and
Karn, those are the houses they’re in.” Izumi glances up, holding her gaze. “If
you have means of sending a missive to High Harbor, then I’ll send one to my
allies there. But…only after I have a chance to talk things over with Leo. He
deserves a chance to change his mind.”
“I can send missives anywhere, I have all the men I need to do whatever you
need. And better horses than anyone down here, that’s for certain.” She pets
his hair for a moment, clicking her tongue over the ends, where it’s still
slightly uneven. “What can you and your friends contribute? We move within the
week with our siege.”
“Sir Arashi has the largest army in the West. I’m not sure all of them would
fight against the crown, but if he tells them a good reason to…they would. He
also has two wizards under his command. Sir Tsukasa—he’s the Suou family heir,
from the capital, and his entire family already hates the crown, and would take
their financing away. They’ve just been waiting for the word. And Sir Ritsu…is
a half-blood wizard from the Shadowlands.” Izumi’s expression is wry, and he
reaches up to tuck his hair behind his ears. “Not only do I have a trade
agreement with the Shadowlands, but his brother is the Demon King, and I’ve
been staying at his estate in High Harbor, so there are allies there as well.
I’m not sure how much he’d be willing to contribute right now, but if we can
afford it, I’ve heard Shadowland horses are pretty cool, if we need more better
horses. Ah, and—do you remember Makoto? The wizard that bloomed in the North,
years back? I might have stolen him from his post.”
Maya stares, and slowly, her jaw drops. Then, she asks slowly, “Is this a
result of you falling in love, or being at war? Either way, I’m sending you to
do it again.”
Izumi opens his mouth, then shuts it again. “I mean. They’re all handsome,” he
eventually says. “And I’m fun. That’s part of it.”
“Sweetheart, I thought we had a talk about keeping your legs at least twenty
degrees closed during a first meeting. When you were eleven.”
“Mama, I followed that rule every single time! Except—listen, Ritsu and
Tsukasa, that was Arashi’s fault entirely, and it was for a blood pact.” Izumi
huffs, snatching up his bowl of soup to actually eat it now, albeit grumpily.
“What’s it matter? They’re all loyal to me. I’d have every single one of them
on my Kingsguard. And the wizards…they’re so powerful. Even just having them on
our side, standing there and doing nothing, would make the crown hesitate.”
Annoyed that he’s so behind this idea, Izumi heaves a sigh. “I need to talk to
Leo, it’s not right that I’m discussing this behind his back. Will you have him
brought in here? He’s a good man, give him a chance.”
She purses her lips, but moves to the door, having a quiet word with one of her
guards. She sticks her head back in, clasping her hands in front of herself.
“There, I’ve sent Dayton for him. I’ll listen, are you happy? I’ll let you talk
to him, and I’ll honestly listen to whatever he has to say. I can’t say this
will be popular,” she warns, “but it might give a good chance of keeping the
country from a prolonged civil war. I hope he’s as good as you think he is.”
“He is, I swear.” Izumi’s mind flicks back abruptly to that night in the
Sandlands, when he’d first recognized Leo in that bar, and Arashi had said
something so similar to him. Gods, Leo, please don’t let me down right now.
Izumi finishes his bowl of soup, and settles back, keeping his blankets tightly
wrapped around himself. “I want to send a missive to Arashi, no matter what,”
he quietly adds. “He needs to know what’s going on. He’s just in High Harbor.”
“How many of them are you in love with, silly boy?”
“This one’s taken already, Mama, be nice.” Izumi hesitates, then wryly says,
“But you’d like him. He’s handsome. Common born, but rose through the ranks
himself. He’s the one—remember, the one that bought all those horses off of us?
That’s Captain Arashi.”
“Ahh, right, right. He was quite dashing, though not quite...Northern stock.
Ah, well, not everyone can be, I suppose.”
“Milady.”
Maya stands, gesturing, and Dayton enters, kneeling. “Milady, my apologies. The
Prince’s tent had guards at the door, but it seems he slipped out. He only left
a note.” He hands over the paper, and Maya takes it, opens it, rolls her eyes,
and passes it to Izumi.
Gone to make it right. ♪
 “I’m going to kill him,” Izumi mutters, crumpling up the note and tossing it
into the tub as a mix of frustration and worry wells up within him. Of all the
times, Leo, why couldn’t you wait another ten minutes? “Bring me some clothes
and I’ll ride after him and bring him back in a minute, the idiot.”
“Absolutely not. I don’t know how your strange little forest creature plans to
get in, but those walls cannot be breached by one man--they need to be
besieged, and our catapults are still three days out. We’re making good
progress on starving them out, since they don’t have any farms in there, and
we’ve choked off all supplies going in. That’s still our best and quickest way.
I’m certain your boy will be caught by our guards before he gets far. Is he a
fast runner?” she asks, more curious than anything.
“Yes, and he’s a very talented archer, so you’d be better off letting me go and
catch him because he won’t shoot me,” Izumi snaps, kicking off his blankets.
“Mama, please—what if his father doesn’t welcome him back? What if he kills
him?”
With a few quick flips of the blankets, Maya swaddles Izumi so thoroughly that
he’s knocked onto his ass, tangled in blankets as she tucks more around him and
ties them tight. “I could swaddle you when you were an angry five-year-old and
I can do it now,” she says with a grunt. “There’s not a damn thing you can do
for that boy, let him make his move. He’s an adult.”
“Let me go! This isn’t fair, I’m—“ Tears prick into his eyes unbidden, and
Izumi kicks, struggling to get away without actually hurting his mother. “I’m
supposed to be protecting him! E-even if he’s a stupid idiot, I have to—Mama,
don’t leave me on the stone, I’m gonna cook.”
“Stop being a crybaby,” she says with a sigh, rolling Izumi off the stone. “You
said you trusted him, put it to the test.”
Izumi sniffs, and stops struggling. “I trusted him before, too,” he miserably
says. “And he made me feel like shit. I hate men.”
“Well.” Maya gives Izumi’s face a pat. “Then give him a chance to prove himself
to you. And this has an upside, because if he gets it wrong, then your Mama
will kill him.”
Izumi’s eyes well up with tears again. “Don’t kill him, he’s perfect,” he
sniffles, slowly worming his way over and turning his face to bury it into her
side. “Mama, fix my hair, they cut it all off. And l-let me send a missive to
High Harbor, Arashi will understand, he’ll send all his men.”
“Shhh, shh. Let me take care of everything. Your Mama’s got care of you now.”
She presses a kiss to his temple, pulling his head into her lap to cradle him
properly. “And any man who isn’t worthy of you will meet an unsavory end. No
child of mine will let an unworthy piece of dung own his heart. And you’re the
only child of mine, so it’s up to you to make good choices.”
Izumi huffs out a soft breath, then nods, shutting his eyes as he curls up. His
mother is terrifying, but the threats sounds so familiar that it’s a comfort,
more than anything. “I thought I did,” he quietly says. Hopefully, he’s not
wrong yet.
***** Chapter 30 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
The Emperor comes, and nothing good comes with him.
Natsume, sealed as he is, doesn’t feel or see any of it coming. The first he
knows of it is a sound like some window shattering, then following that, the
roof of the entire estate simply ripping off, the howling, shrieking of
hundreds of spirits wrenching him from sleep.
But that, too, is silenced soon enough.
The bells make his head ache. Natsume can’t make his ears stop ringing even
once the bells stop and scent of roses fills the air, and stumbling into the
middle of battle at with Tsumugi trailing behind does not yield the results
he’d like.
Eichi, draped in white, doesn’t even look at him. Instead, he frowns at
Tsumugi, and his attention whips over to Wataru, currently engaged with Shu.
“Wataru. Do something about him.”
“That’s right, I’m the youngest Nightcloak—“
“Not you. Tsumugi.”
Tsumugi opens his mouth even for a second, and the silencing charm Eichi slaps
over him apparently reassures him long enough to let Wataru finish the job.
Natsume can’t forget the sounds of Wataru’s screams when his wings are ripped
cleanly off his back, but more than that, he can’t forget the way Shu’s body
hits the ground. Natsume lunges, screaming, but Tsumugi’s hands are on him,
stopping him, and it’s one of the last things he remembers before waking up,
cold and furious, in their little transport box.
His eyes are narrowed, sharp slits as they flick around, taking note of his
surroundings—which is to say, it’s Tsumugi. Tsumugi, who Eichi fears, Tsumugi,
who stopped him from going to Shu—“You.” His voice is low, a hissing cat’s
warning. “This is your fault.”
Tsumugi’s eyes flick side to side. He’s managed to escape most of the beatings
by keeping his head down, and gives Natsume a little smile that’s meant to be
encouraging. Very, very quietly, he whispers, “I don’t think he knows the spell
on me is gone. We can talk, if you want.”
Natsume’s lips curl, and he lunges, hands going around Tsumugi’s neck. “I’ll
strangle your voice back out of you,” he lowly snarls. “How dare you stop me
from helping Lord Shu—how dare you! You’re working with him, aren’t you? That’s
why he wanted you to shut up, y-you’re a traitor!”
Tsumugi doesn’t even flinch, just letting Natsume’s hands strangle him. His
eyes are sad, haunted, hooded. “I am a traitor,” he says softly, tears
gathering at the corners of his eyes. “But not to you. And not to Shu, though
I’m sure he thought I was at worst, and useless at best.”
Natsume’s eyes sting, and he tightens his hands, shaking Tsumugi as hard as he
can.  He doesn’t get very far, not when his fingers are trembling like they
are. “Explain,” he shakily demands. “If you don’t, I’ll kill you right here.”
“You can, if you like,” Tsumugi whispers. His eyes fill again, and the tears
spill down his cheeks. “I probably deserve it. What do you want to hear?”
“…Why is the Emperor so afraid of you?” Natsume sits back, the layers of his
dress flopping down around him. Shu made it for him, and he’ll kill anyone that
tries to take it from him, he will,stupid Emperor and Faerie included. “You’ve
never…you’ve never done a-anything to prove that he should be scared of you,
but…”
“He’s not scared of power,” Tsumugi says softly. His legs are splayed out like
an unbalanced baby colt, despite the fact that he’s a man in his thirties. “He
never has been. He’s afraid of the things I’ll say, not the things I’ll do.”
“He’s the Emperor,” Natsume whispers, staring back at him in disbelief. “What
could you possibly say that would make him afraid?”
Tsumugi spreads his hands, helpless. “I know him. I was his friend. As much as
he can have friends, I suppose.”
“Tell me something only his friend would know, then.”
“His favorite food is cheap beef ground with onions, fried in lots of oil.”
“…Sounds fake.” Natsume stares at him, frowning. “But I guess that’s what
probably makes it real. Gross, by the way.” His gaze flicks sideways. “Is it
true that he…and Wataru…that…that they have a resonant bond?”
“Oh, yes.” Tsumugi’s smile is as sad as his eyes. “He didn’t tell me, but I can
see it. I’ve always been able to see some things that other people don’t.
It’s...not always a blessing.”
“Then he’s a hypocrite. The world’s biggest hypocrite, i-it’s not fair he gets
to have that but then won’t let the rest of us…” Natsume’s eyes well up with
tears again, and he reaches out to slap Tsumugi’s arm in his frustration. “Stop
looking so sad whenever you talk about him. You…you act like you were married
to him or something, that’s gross, you’re…”
“He was my friend. And I believe...he did something that...” Tsumugi sighs,
wiping his hands down his face. “He tried to force a resonant bond on me. And
that, among many other things, is what he doesn’t want me to tell anyone.”
“He…he did what?” Natsume scoots closer, eyes wide. “Is that even possible?
That’s so strange…” He trails off, and he frowns. “Were you more awesome back
then?” he bluntly asks. “Is that why?”
Tsumugi shrugs. “I don’t know. I doubt it, I suppose. Ah, but I was
more...willing to try new things, I suspect? I did...almost anything he asked
of me. I believed in him back then, you know. It was just after the War. And
when I bloomed, he came to me personally, and bought out my contract. I thought
he was quite impressive, back then.”
Natsume’s mouth twists, and he looks away again, hugging his knees up to his
chest. “Did he always…think that things had to be like this?” he asks. “I don’t
want to go to the Academy.”
“Oh, he didn’t always think anything. He thrives in conflict, you know? And he
sort of...” Tsumugi sighs, slumping back against the wall. “He was so
incredible, when we needed to bring the country together. He traded his entire
existence to be a part of us. Oh, that’s probably what he doesn’t want anyone
to know, too, is how he can be killed. I suppose I am the only person alive who
knows, unless he’s told Wataru.”
“Why wouldn’t you tell anyone that?” Natsume snaps, his nails biting into his
knees. “Shu could’ve killed him. If anyone could, Shu could—and Rei, Rei
definitely could’ve. You are a traitor, aren’t you? Or you just…you just don’t
care.”
“It isn’t as easy as that,” Tsumugi says softly. “Shu couldn’t have done it.
Rei couldn’t have done it at that time. He might be able to at one point, but
not then. And anyone I tell? Immediately becomes Eichi’s first target. He still
hesitates to kill me based on our previous friendship, I think, but anyone else
I tell will not live. I have...a lot of dangerous knowledge.”
“A lot of good that’s going to do you when we’re all in captivity, and Shu is
dead.” Natsume’s lower lip wobbles. “You’re not thinking about anyone else.
Rei…Rei would’ve done something, if you had told him. Shu would’ve too. And the
Emperor already wants them dead so—ugh, stop calling him by his name, he
doesn’t even deserve that much!”
Tsumugi closes his eyes. They sting. Nothing has really hurt him in quite a
while, but thinking about his friends--about Shu, about Rei, about Natsume
looking at him as if he’s the worst thing there’s ever been--that does it.
“I’ve seen a lot of people die for what I know,” he says softly, breath ragged.
“And people die when I keep my mouth shut. I just...wanted to keep you safe.
You’re the last thing I wanted to protect. I know you don’t want to hear that
from me, but...”
“I’d rather die than go to the Academy. There’s no part of it that’s going to
protect me.” Natsume fights down the urge to cry. He sucks in a ragged breath,
looking away. “If you want to protect me…then figure something else out. Until
then, you’re useless. You’re just useless, and you’re a traitor, and I hate
you.”
“Ah...aren’t you a traitor too, though? You left the Academy, too.”
“I’m talking about being a traitor to us! To Rei, to Shu—to K…Kanata—“ Tears
spring from Natsume’s eyes, rolling swiftly down his face, and he quickly lifts
his hands to wipe at his face, hiccuping. “Y…you’re just like W-Wataru, you
probably l-love him or something, no wonder you aren’t trying to do anything. I
hate you.”
Tsumugi takes the hit with a sad little smile, just as he takes all the
physical hits Natsume feels compelled to give him out. “I wish you wouldn’t say
that. I care about you a lot, you know? I...”
His face tightens, and he looks down and away. “I’m not very good about talking
about my feelings or about saying anything true bluntly--I think I was around
him for quite too long--but just so you know, Natsume...I never betrayed you.
If--ah, if you had a dagger that only worked on the full moon, and someone
attacked you during the day, would it be your fault that you didn’t stab them?
If it would have helped, I would have said something, I...I promise.”
“How do you know it wouldn’t have helped?” Natsume’s voice is quieter,
suddenly, and his fingers fist into the ruffles of his dress, tears still
streaming slowly down his cheeks. “How could you know that more than someone
like Rei or Shu? They’re…they’re supposed to be so cool and strong and the
Emperor just—“ He bites his lip, huffing out a hot breath. “W-why aren’t you
doing anything to make me feel better right now? You’re the worst, the worst.”
Tsumugi edges closer, reaching out to try and tug Natsume into his arms. He’ll
probably be hit, but that’s all right. “Look, I don’t know a lot of things, all
right? But I know some things, and one of them is how to kill my oldest friend.
And I know that Rei or Shu couldn’t have done it, not them, not then.”
Natsume’s chest heaves in a sob, and he all but leaps into Tsumugi’s lap, face
buried swiftly into his neck. “Stop talking, just s-stop,” he whispers,
huddling up against him. “S-stop calling him your friend, stop, stop sounding
so calm, just…”
“Just because he was my friend,” Tsumugi says, firmly, gently, holding Natsume
to his chest, “doesn’t mean I’ll hesitate to kill him. Natsume...that’s why he
won’t let me speak. But I’d do anything to protect you and the others.”
Especially you.
“Prove it,” Natsume mumbles, clinging to Tsumugi’s neck, trying to stop shaking
and failing. “P-prove it. I…I…R..Rei did everything to make sure I didn’t have
to go into the Academy, please don’t make me go back…”
Suddenly, they lurch to a jerking stop, and Natsume’s teeth bare, his nails
biting into Tsumugi as he clings to him even tighter. Outside of their
transport box, there’s the sound of shouting, but it’s too muffled, too muddled
for him to make any of it out. “What’s going on?” he whispers. “We can’t be
there yet, can we? I thought the Academy was further away…”
“It is.” Tsumugi shifts, getting between Natsume and the box’s opening,
breathing in and out, closing his eyes. “If you don’t speak, I can hide us.
Just until we know what’s happening--even if they look right at us, they won’t
see us.” He starts weaving the Veil, fingers tracing in the air, lips moving
over silent words.
Natsume nods, huddling as close to Tsumugi as he can, face buried into his
fluffy hair as he tries to calm his breathing down and not make a single squeak
of a sound.
Before Tsumugi can finish casting, the box suddenly tips over and sideways, and
Natsume bites down on a shriek, tumbling over with Tsumugi with wide eyes. The
door creaks open, bent on its hinges, but no one comes for them, not yet,
though the sounds of horses shrieking, whinnying loudly in fear, and the sounds
of swords clashing and the shouts of men following.
“Check that box first!”
That voice—it’s a shock that it’s here, and so familiar, and Natsume lifts his
head when the door creaks open further. Behind it is Tsukasa, red hair pulled
back into a stub of a tail at the back of his neck, a determined scowl on his
face as he rips the door open further. “Lord Tsumugi,” he greets in relief.
“And Milady—please, come with us, there’s not much time.”
Tsumugi drops the ragged ends of the Veil with relief, immediately lifting
Natsume up ahead of him, skirts wild around them both. “Please see to Natsume
first, I--I’m quite dizzy! Ah, my word, that was quite a spill, wasn’t it? Lord
Tsukasa, may I ask what you’re doing here? And where our, ah, captors may be?”
“They appear to have fled, like the villains they are! Ha ha!” Chiaki plants
his hands on his hips, saluting. “Milord, Milady, I offer my assistance, such
as it may be, and that of my corps. It’s just fortune that I found Lord Izumi
and Lord Tsukasa on the road in time to help you!”
Tsukasa extends his hand, taking Natsume by the wrist. “Come, Milady,” he
urges, hauling him up and easily into his arms. “There we are. My apologies for
the rough landing, are you quite all right?”
Natsume nods shakily, sniffling as he clings to Tsukasa’s neck, still too
wobbly to do anything but. “Tsumugi,” he mumbles, reaching out behind him.
“Come.”
The sound of Izumi’s cursing follows the sound of another box’s door opening.
“Don’t kick, don’t kick, fucking hell, it’s me, you brat—“
Violet fire flickers on several surrounding tree branches, and Tsukasa’s horse
spooks nearby, unsettled and displeased. Izumi pulls Mika out from his
transport box wall-eyed and trembling, as white as a sheet, and he looks all
the world like he’s ready to blow up everything around them. “Easy—easy, Mika,
relax, I’m not letting them take you back—“
“It doesn’t matter!” Mika shudders, clutching at him, his eyes wild.
“Arashi—Arashi is dead, Master is dead, just take me back, just—“
“If you think they’re dead that easily…” Izumi exhales, grabbing Mika’s face in
his hands. “Stop it. If you blow us all up, I’ll come for you, and you know I
won’t die. I’ll find them for you, all right? That’s why I’m here.”
Mika trembles, tears running freely down his face, and though he doesn’t nod or
agree, he does let Izumi drag him out and over to Vale—a properly colored Vale,
the black dye since washed from his dappled coat. “Here, up you go, stay put
and don’t set my horse on fire, he’ll protect you,” Izumi grunts, hoisting Mika
up into the saddle and leaving him there with a toss of his silver ponytail
over his shoulder. “Morisawa, come help me get this last damned box open.”
It takes only one blow of Chiaki’s crowbar to knock the lock off of the last
box, sending it flying into the dirt. One wrench of his arms, and the metal lid
goes flying. He reaches in, and helps out a very shaken-looking Makoto, hair
wild, face pale. He looks around, and swallows hard at the sight of Izumi, face
flushing. “I, I’m sorry, it’s all my fault, I messed up--I thought I was being
brave, but I messed everything up, I’m so sorry--”
Tsumugi hoists Natsume into a proper princes carry, holding him close, too
delighted that this is real to protest at all.
“Come here, idiot.”
Izumi hauls him out easily, smoothing Makoto’s hair. “You’re the one that
reached out to me, right?” he presses, a wry smile on his lips. “So I’m here
now. And I’m going to take you somewhere safe, so this doesn’t happen again.”
“Lord Tsumugi, you can ride, can’t you?” Tsukasa presses. “We brought an extra
horse, for you and Milady.”
“Where are we going?” Natsume asks, his voice muffled within Tsumugi’s hair as
he keeps clinging to him.
“Back to High Harbor, for now,” Izumi says, dragging Makoto over to Vale, who,
thankfully, senses that Mika does not need him pitching a fit right now, and
has been perfectly still. He hauls himself up into the saddle behind Mika, who
only vaguely turns into his chest, more or less listless, bordering on
catatonic, and offers his hand down to Makoto to pull him up behind him.
“Because no one would ever think we’d head back there…and because we have to
look for Arashi, and Shu. Morisawa’s already got his men on it.”
Somehow, Tsumugi manages to get onto the horse, holding Natsume in front of
him. The horse shifts, and he grabs for the reins, holding them too-tightly.
“Lord Izumi...I hate to inform you, but Captain Arashi, and Shu, they...”
“They must be very hurt! We should help them!” Chiaki says enthusiastically.
Tsumugi winces. “I was there. We...we saw it. Eichi, he...” He looks to the
side, sees Mika, and fall silent.
“We’re going to High Harbor, and we’re going to look for them,” Izumi firmly
says, slinging his arm around Mika to keep him against his chest when he
otherwise seems uninterested in existing. “Yuukun, just hold onto me.”
Tsukasa climbs onto his own horse, and he hesitates, glancing over to Izumi.
“Fianna’s faster,” he quietly says. “Are you sure you don’t want to give Mika
to me, just in case someone catches their scent?”
Izumi hesitates at that, but Natsume shifts in Tsumugi’s hold, fluttering a
hand. “Wataru was severely injured,” he flatly says. “The Emperor’s distracted.
They probably won’t send anyone right now.”
“Valor and I will take up the rear,” Chiaki assures them, patting his horse’s
neck as he circles back. “Lord Tsukasa, take the vanguard, if you please! Lord
Izumi, Lord Tsumugi, please ride between us--you have the most people, we’ll
protect you.”
Makoto clings to Izumi’s back, fingers tangled in his shirt. “I’m sorry,” he
whispers, as quietly as possible, trying to keep Mika from hearing by
whispering directly in Izumi’s ear. “The Captain, he--the Emperor blasted him
off the ramparts with raw power. No human...could have survived.”
“Luckily for us, Arashi’s not entirely human,” Izumi murmurs, reaching down to
pat Makoto’s knee. “Don’t talk about it right now, or Mika’ll kill us all, you
know?”
“I’m taking the shortest route possible,” Tsukasa tells them, one nudge sending
Fianna briskly cantering forward. “My apologies in advance, if I’m brisk!”
“Faster, the better,” Izumi calls after him, and Vale swiftly lurches forward,
eager to follow. “Snuggle up real close, Yuukun,” he says. “Don’t think I
forgot how much you suck at this.”
“It’s not worse than being in a box,” Makoto gasps, trying to hold down his
vomit, holding on for dear life. “Ugh...it isn’t...nearly as far on a horse as
it was in a carriage, right? Ah...”
“If you puke on me, I’ll kill you,” Izumi threatens, hugging Mika firmly to his
chest as he leans forward to better balance with someone in front and behind
him. “Vale’s a smooth ride, don’t be a pussy.”
But he pauses after he says that, and briefly glances back over his shoulder,
making sure Makoto isn’t truly dying. “Are you all right?” he quietly asks.
“They didn’t hurt you, did they? Sorry I couldn’t get here before you got
actually locked up like that.”
Makoto shakes his head, forcing a smile. “I got the least of everyone, I think,
thank you, Milord. It wasn’t anywhere near as bad as re-education in the
Academy, at least. I didn’t really bother...fighting...so...”
Izumi rolls his eyes and looks forward again, letting his hair smack Makoto in
the face. “Honestly…not even fighting back after you call for me like that? You
better be glad I like you so much, Yuukun. What kind of Northerner are you,
huh?”
“C...call for you, Lord Izumi?” Makoto blinks.
“Yes, you idiot, call for me. How else would I have found you? Kasa was already
headed after you, but I was near the Capital, you know.”
“Lord Izumi, I didn’t.” Makoto swallows. “The Emperor...he tried to get into my
head. I ignored him as long as I could...but then...I tried to tell him no, and
he found us. After that, I was too afraid to say anything. I--I thought about
you, though.”
Izumi frowns at that, then shrugs it off, uninterested. “Well, maybe you
thought hard enough that I heard you, hmm? You’re magical, after all. I took a
different road because of it and ran into Kasa and Chiaki just before we found
the lot of you. For the last time, it’s Izumi, or I’ll shove you off my horse.”
“I wished you’d come,” Makoto whispers, burying his face between Izumi’s
shoulderblades. “I wished for you to come save me so hard...when you came, it
was like you heard my prayers. But Lord Izumi--ahh, sorry, don’t shove me,
please!--Izumi...training ourselves not to send any magical signals is taught
in year one, I’m not that terrible a student, heh...there’s really just no way
you heard me? What was I saying?”
Mika stirs, sort of, but only enough to shove his head harder against Izumi’s
chest, and Izumi tightens his arm around him, keeping him pressed close. “You
said…exactly what you just told me. But it was like a compass, too, you know?
Like you were pulling me, that’s how I knew where to go.” He shrugs. “So here I
am. I mean, I was heading back to rescue you, anyway. Like hell I’d leave you
lot behind. You just made it a hell of a lot easier.”
Makoto’s arms tighten, and he sighs, nuzzling in. “However it happened, I’m
glad. Don’t tell your mother, she’ll probably start talking about pretending
I’m a noble so we can get married, like she used to when we were little.”
“No, she wants me to marry a big, strong man that’s older than me, and
definitely has a beard.” Izumi snorts, but he cracks a smile. “Not happening.
You still feeling sick?”
“Not really. It’s easier when we’re close. I can sort of...feel your rhythm,”
Makoto says quietly. “You should have taught me to ride a horse like this,
instead of just tossing me up there. Horses don’t like me. Some Northerner,
right?”
“Or maybe you just need to be on a good Northern horse, none of those skinny
little racers from the Capital—“
“Fianna heard that and she’ll kick you, I swear!”
“Vale’s like a big sofa,” Izumi continues, unfazed. “If you can’t ride him,
you’ll never ride. My mother’ll make fun of you, though, if you let her know
you suck this much. Once we find Arashi and Shu, we’re heading back to her
encampment.”
“If she even wants me around.” Makoto’s voice is glum. “If I were your mother,
I’d want me far away from you. I think I’m bad luck for you.”
“What makes you say that? I mentioned you, and she didn’t even bat an eye.”
Izumi snorts, and he squeezes the arm around Mika gently. “The only bad luck
that I’ve got is brought about by sitting around and waiting for other people
to do the shit I want to do. So, no more of that.”
“But nothing good ever happens around me. So...my friend Subaru said that I
should find the positives in everything, and I just think...that might be a
positive, right? If I find the cause of everything bad, even if it is me?”
Izumi rolls his eyes, tilting his head back. “Shut up about that,” he flatly
orders. “What just happened was good, right? And you were here for it. You’re
not bad luck, you’ve just had some bad shit happen. Drop it and come with me
and you’ll be happier, I bet.”
“A-all right.” Even Makoto doesn’t know why he agrees so readily when Izumi
asks him for things. Something niggles at the back of his mind, something about
Izumi being able to hear him, but nothing settles into sense in his mind. He
sighs, and just rides along, letting his eyes close. “I’ll leave it to you,
Milord.”
***** Chapter 31 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
Leo has only been to the Academy a couple of times, always with either his
father or a retinue of guards. He’s always been to examine, to deal out policy,
or to check on the progress of some crown-ordered enchantment. He’s never been
like this, blood on the hem of his cloak, standing alone on the steps, waiting
to be shown up to the meeting room for an audience with the Emperor himself.
The wizard that shows him up to the receiving room is a stranger, someone old
and bent. He refuses to speak--or, possibly, is unable--and shuts the door on
Leo, leaving him standing alone in the room, waiting. It’s a rather sparse
room, with high-backed chairs upholstered in white, white curtains, even a
white table runner on the desk, all of it spotlessly bright.
Leo stands it for about a minute, then finds himself reaching for the quill as
if drawn there by compulsion, the notes of a song finding their way onto that
white table runner in an elegant scrawl.
It’s several more minutes before the door opens again, this time presenting a
familiar face, albeit far more tense than the last time Leo laid eyes upon him.
Today, the Emperor is as draped in white as always, his platinum hair tucked
behind his ears, and he looks at Leo for a long moment, expression flickering
from annoyance to vague amusement.
“…Your Highness.” Eichi smiles. “We meet again.”
The quill keeps moving. Leo doesn’t look up.
Eichi steps closer. He leans, reaching over, and snatches the quill straight
out of Leo’s hold, snapping it in half. “It’s rude, you know,” he softly says,
“to ignore when someone is talking to you. Especially if you’re writing on
their things.”
Leo looks up suddenly, eyes wide, flicking back and forth for a moment, blank
and staring, unsure where he is. Then, suddenly, they snap into focus, and he
stumbles back. “Ah! You! When did you get here! Where am I?”
“Yes, me,” Eichi dismissively says, moving to take a seat. “You’re at the
Academy, Your Highness. If you forgot that you specifically requested a meeting
with me, then by all means, be on your way. I’m afraid I don’t have much time
to entertain you, even if you are like an adorable little squirrel.”
Highness. Right, right, he’s the prince. Leo. Leo blinks, and sucks in a
breath, steadying his nerves. “I forgot myself. Sorry. That hasn’t happened in
a long time, I...right, sorry. Excellency, I’d like to request a meeting. Now,
if possible. Ah, I’ll pay for the table runner.”
“You’ve requested it, go on.” Eichi idly pulls the runner towards him. “Hmm. If
you weren’t ruining the whole ‘stark white purity’ image I’ve got going on, I
might keep this.”
You’ve ruined your own purity image with your deeds. Leo doesn’t say that. He
straightens up, and asks bluntly, “Have you heard of the Righteous Renegade’s
Quorum? Also known as the King Killer Council?”
“I can’t say that I have, but it sounds interesting.” Eichi leans back, folding
his hands in his lap. “Are you trying to kill the king now? How sad, I hear
he’s trying his best.”
“He had a chance to make things right. He didn’t take it.” The words taste like
ash in Leo’s mouth, but he shakes his head. “It’s a euphemism. He’s planning on
doing something that I, as a future king of this realm, can never condone. The
Righteous Renegade’s Quorum is a lesser-known law--if I can convince the future
heir--me--and the head of the Kingsguard, and the Emperor of the Academy, and
the head of the Artist’s Guild all to vote unanimously, the King will be
removed from power, and the heir will take legal power in a peaceful
transition. Otherwise...it’s going to be a bloody massacre.”
“Ahh…courtesy of the North, hmm? I had a time avoiding their blockades. Very
unpleasant people, all of them.” Eichi’s eyes lid as he watches Leo,
contemplative. “What is it that you can’t condone? I’m curious. If you’re
trying to become king, I do want to know that we’ll work well together in the
future, of course.”
Leo looks up, and gambles on human nature. “I’ve heard a lot of things about
you,” he says softly. “I’ve heard about your iron grip, and about your
absolutism. But I’ve also heard that you like gardening and spoiling your young
friends. I think most people have different sides to them. I’ll give you the
benefit of that belief, too. Fa--the king is planning to use a magical weapon
on the countryside. It would destroy the entire Northern encampment, all the
people inside, and the entire countryside around for a hundred leagues. Nothing
will be able to grow there for a century.” His voice shakes on the last word.
The fact that he’s able to say the words at all mean that h’s had a day to
practice, and to stop choking on his own hatred.
“Oh. Yes, I know about that. It’s financed by one of the families that my
favorites came from. I dislike the idea, I’ll give you that much—the result
will be so ugly, I think, and I don’t want to waste the time of my wizards in
trying to fix land that didn’t need to be wounded in the first place…but the
North shouldn’t be there, so it’s really a difficult decision,” Eichi sighs,
fluttering a hand. “All right, let me humor the idea for a moment. Assume I
side with you. Assume the king is kicked neatly off the throne. How are you
going to deal with the North, Your Highness?”
“The heir to the North is loyal to me.” It’s better to be blunt, Leo thinks.
Then he’ll never get caught in a lie. “And I understand he’ll be able to
convince all of them to swear to me. Not just them, but folks from the West,
which is traditionally...less than enthusiastic about their royal service. I
can usher in a new age of prosperity based on peace and mutual respect, rather
than cowardice and reactionary politics.” He’s practiced the speech.
“Yes, yes, those are pretty words, but I’ve heard it before.” Eichi leans to
the side, chin in hand. “You’re relying quite a bit on a friend,” he quietly
says, “to get things done for you. A poor choice, especially when the Sena heir
is currently making things difficult for me. I dislike that. I dislike him. I
like you, which is the only reason we’re still talking, but I hear he has plans
to petition you to try and petition me for changes within the Academy. I think
everything’s fine the way it is, don’t you?”
The diplomatic way forward is obvious. Leo can’t do it. This is his last chance
anyway, and war with the Academy is never going to work out. “Not really! But
I’d love to have a long conversation with you about why you think it needs to
be the way it is, and listen to some of the wizards about what they think--it’s
important to make sure everyone is living free, in my kingdom, and not
enslaved. That way, the people on the top are there because they’re the right
ones for it, and not because of bad laws. You’re not afraid of someone being
better than you, right?”
Eichi’s smile doesn’t fade. “No one is enslaved, Your Highness,” he lowly says.
“I’m not sure where you would come up with such an idea, frankly. I’m the
Emperor because I deserve to be. You should really mind your tone when
discussing things you don’t understand, especially if you’re trying to make me
come to your side.”
“You asked if I was fine with everything the way it was,” Leo points out. “As
king, all of your wizards would still be my citizens. I just want to be able to
hear from them. I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out, once this is
sorted out.”
Eichi hums underneath his breath at that, and he slowly climbs to his feet.
“I’m sure you know that the crown has no say over what the Academy does,” he
says, leaning over Leo’s chair, planting a hand on the arm of it. “When wizards
come here, they’re mine, not yours. If they ever work for the crown, or for any
of your men, they’re on loan. Leniency about this in the past…well, that’s why
we’ve had wars.” He lifts a hand, tapping a finger underneath Leo’s chin to
lift his head. “If you don’t like that, maybe start ignoring it…or wait for
your father to die naturally.”
Leo closes his eyes, and recites. “In the matter of employment, duties, and
dwellings of all wizards, the crown shall cede responsibility to the Academy’s
governing justice, and shall only intercede in the case of any citizen being
denied their inalienable rights as citizen.” He smiles. “That’s all I care
about, Excellency. That last part. So when I hear complaints from wizards
saying they’re slaves, I will listen. But I don’t ever wish to have control of
what you all do magically or whatever. We can continue to work together.”
“…You’re a terrible brat, aren’t you?” Eichi’s eyes lid. “No wizard of mine
will tell you they’re a slave.” His thumb idly drags up to stroke over Leo’s
lower lip. “Mm. All right. I’ll agree to your request, on one condition.”
Leo’s eyes go wide. He trembles, trying not to step back, forcing his feet to
stay put. Eichi is very tall, and Leo’s never felt shorter. He swallows hard,
firming his stance, and looks up. “What’s that condition?”
“If I’m going to side with you…pretty words aren’t enough.” Eichi’s smile is
sharp, and he leans down, their foreheads nearly touching. “Form a blood pact
with me.”
“I’m not killing a child,” Leo says quickly. “No matter what the cost.”
Eichi laughs, straightening again. “Oh, goodness, no, we don’t kill children
here. Your Highness, you know there’s another way to form a blood pact, don’t
you?”
“I--”
The spike of fear is something Leo doesn’t expect, and he balls his hands into
fists at his side, looking up at Eichi. “I...” But I’ve never done that with
anyone but my lover, he wants to say, but that sounds lame. But I don’t want
to. But you scare me.
No, he wants to be the king. He can’t be afraid of something like this.
He sucks in a breath, then nods shortly. “Just with you. Not with anyone else.”
“Of course just with me.” Eichi’s eyes gleam, and he holds out his hand. “You
look nervous, Your Highness,” he softly says. “Does the idea bother you so
much? It’s for your kingdom, after all.” 
Slowly, Leo shakes his head. “I just--I haven’t really...been here before. With
a blood pact. Do we have to formalize the language?”
“You’ve already told me what you want from me. And I’ve made it clear what I
want from you. A blood pact merely means we’re bound to those words, those
thoughts…and that whatever else we decide upon in the future, or share between
one another, is entirely between us. And I,” Eichi idly adds, “am the most
powerful wizard in this land, so, you can appreciate that.”
If he’s going to do it, he’s going to do it. Leo takes a small step forward,
reaching up to let his hand rest against Eichi’s chest. His heart thuds, but
with none of the exciting warmth he ever feels when he and Izumi are this
close. Eichi is beautiful, but this is just...cold. “When I was young and I saw
you for the first time,” he whispers, “I thought you were from the moon.”
Eichi grabs at that hand, using it to yank Leo forward, flush against him. “And
you look like you were kissed by some sliver of twilight that caught on fire,”
he says, his other hand dragging back through Leo’s hair, pulling free the tie
that binds it in short order. “You’re shaking, Your Highness.” His lips twitch.
“That’s very cute. And here I thought you had done this before.”
“I’ve never...formed a blood pact before,” Leo says truthfully, hands trembling
as he squeezes Eichi’s. Maybe this won’t be too bad. The guilt in his heart
throbs. Izumi--no, he can’t think of Izumi right now, not even to feel guilty.
“What do I have to do?”
“Nothing, except…mm, let me have you.”
Fortunately, the ink is already dry on Leo’s previous scribblings. It doesn’t
smear when Eichi easily shoves Leo back against the edge of the table, further
wrinkling the table runner. He leans over him, fingertips brushing along his
throat back through his hair to push it out of the way, and little, sparkling
motes of golden light follow his touch. “You’ve done that, haven’t you?” he
breathes, his eyes glowing, his thigh easily shoving Leo’s apart. “People talk,
Your Highness—especially to me.”
“People also talk about you, Excellency,” Leo says softly, refusing to rise to
the bait, even as he lets himself be pushed back, pulse thudding in his throat.
He reaches back, resting on his elbows, fighting down the stupid urge to clench
his thighs shut, and looks up. “But I’m kind enough not to bring that up when
we’re like this.”
“Do they? Ooh, tell me what they’ve said.” Eichi’s hand slides down Leo’s
chest, methodically unlacing, unclasping, swiftly revealing skin. “Hmm…I always
thought you were a bit paler than this,” he murmurs, idly thumbing the thin,
white scar at the base of Leo’s throat. “I suppose all that time on the road
changed that.”
“Somehow…I think you’ve gotten a few new freckles. How, it’s still winter.”
 The memory of Izumi’s words brings tears to Leo’s eyes, and he looks away,
clenching his jaw. “Do you just...need to do it? Or do I need to just...let
you?”
Izumi over him, Izumi pressing him down, Izumi kissing his jaw, Izumi sliding
up between his thighs. Maybe if he closes his eyes and thinks about Izumi, this
will be easy.
 “If you aren’t willing, that makes this much more difficult on my part.”
Eichi’s mouth his hot on his neck, sucking on the uneven thud of Leo’s pulse
before his hand slides down, grabbing at the laces of his breeches, yanking
them open. “If you don’t want it, then I have to try so much harder to make
this blood pact work,” he sighs. “And if it fails…then we’re back at square
one, aren’t we?”
“I didn’t know they could fail.”
No matter what, I won’t do this again.
 Setting his jaw with determination, Leo reaches up and strokes Eichi’s long
pale neck, thinking back to the first time they’d met. Eichi had looked like an
angel, like he’d descended from the moon with the light of the stars still in
his eyes. He lets his head fall back, sucking in a breath through his nose as
he feels his cock start to fill. “You’re an exceptional being,” he whispers,
back arching, a little moan escaping. “Like you could breathe moonlight into my
lungs.”
“Let’s try it.”
Eichi surges forward, grabbing Leo’s chin in one hand, dragging his face up to
kiss him. He catches his mouth just when Leo’s lips part for breath, and his
tongue shoves past them, kissing him hard, sucking his tongue as he shoves
apart Leo’s thighs to better stand between them. With every touch of his
fingers and lips to Leo’s skin, tiny, golden lights sink into him, disappearing
as quickly as they appear. “You’re as warm as the sun,” he breathes, drawing
back only enough to catch his own breath, his cheeks flushed, pupils dilated as
his hips twitch forward, letting the line of his cock press and rub between
Leo’s legs. “I wanted you, the second I saw you.”
I was no more than seven,Leo wants to protest, but he just shivers, thighs
trying automatically to draw together, and it just makes it feel as if he’s
wrapping them around Eichi’s waist. He gasps, the light sinking into him making
him arch, making his breath taste like the sun, little rivulets of power
running through his veins. “And you feel like porcelain,” he groans, leaning up
for another kiss, letting his body react without conscious direction.
It’s easy to cover Leo with his body, to fist a hand into his hair and drag him
up into another, filthy kiss. Eichi groans against his mouth, a low, rumbling
sound as he grinds down, savoring the way that Leo’s legs tighten around his
waist, no matter the reason. “If you had a shred of magic in you,” he breathes,
eyes glittering, as he ruts forward, just to feel the way Leo arches up against
him, “I’d keep you here forever. You’re my favorite type, you know?”
Leo opens his mouth, but all that comes out is a squeak, followed by a hitching
breath, then a whine. The hard line of Eichi’s cock is larger than he’d
expected, larger than Izumi’s, and Leo feels himself start to sweat, skin
tightening, pleasure tingling up his spine. “Excellency,” he whispers, hands
lacing behind Eichi’s head, his cock flushing harder with every grind. “Please,
I--I want you to...”
Eichi’s own breath catches in his throat, and his laugh is a ragged one as he
yanks open his own robes first, untying the laces underneath to easily pull his
cock free. “Now you’re being awfully sweet,” he murmurs, tugging one of Leo’s
hands down and pressing it against his cock. He sucks in a sharp breath,
sliding forward against that touch as his mouth drags to Leo’s neck, his teeth
nipping into soft skin. “Say it,” he lowly orders. “Tell me what you want.”
“It’s big,” Leo whispers, the first thing that pops into his mind. His hand
curls, and he strokes the hard length from base to tip, looking down and seeing
it between his thighs. He licks his lips, chest heaving, and tries to fumble
for words. “I want you to...complete the pact. In me.”
Eichi’s lips part, something like a growl caught in his throat as he bends,
catching Leo’s mouth in a last, possessive kiss, little sparks of light
flickering between their lips as he draws back. “After this,” he says, “you’ll
never want anything else.”
He pulls back, dislodging Leo’s touch, and deftly flips him. His chest heaves
at the sight, and he drags a hand down Leo’s back, keeping him pressed down
against the table as he pulls Leo’s breeches down, letting them pool to the
floor around his ankles. Eichi idly grabs a pouch off of Leo’s own belt,
pulling out a vial of oil that he tips into the palm of his hand, dragging it
down the length of his cock. “Relax, Your Highness,” he breathes, the head of
his cock catching against Leo’s hole. It looks far too large to fit inside, but
Eichi doesn’t care, and he keeps a hand between Leo’s shoulders, holding him
down when he shoves forward, a breathless groan escaping his throat at the
resistance, the tight stretch around him before the head finally sinks inside,
spreading Leo impossibly wide. “Mnn…there, ahh, you’re even hotter inside…”
Leo bites his lip so hard he tastes blood. This part is different--Izumi has
always taken great care to prepare him, and he’s tense. He doesn’t remember it
hurting like this even the first time, and he lets out a pained whimper,
clutching at the desk, trying not to let the pain make him tense up even more.
Eichi is big, feels bigger, and the oil can only do so much. His erection
flags, softening with every too-thick thrust into his body. “It’s--go slow,
please, just for a moment, please, I’m not--”
“Shh, just take a deep breath…”
Leo is so tight around him that it aches, and Eichi’s breath stutters, his eyes
fluttering as he barely resists the urge to shove in to the hilt. Instead, he
falls back into his chair, dragging Leo with him into his lap, mouth on his
neck and hands sliding up to his nipples, pinching, pulling them as he tugs him
down slowly onto his cock. “It’ll fit,” he promises, panting into Leo’s neck.
“You want to be good, don’t you?”
Eichi’s fingers feel so good, so cool on his nipples, that for a moment Leo
really does think it’s Izumi. He groans, leaning back against Eichi’s chest,
hands back on Eichi’s thighs as he presses back, trying to breath. He’s not
entirely certain what fantasy Eichi is playing out, but it’s thick, intrusive,
far too much as it stretches him so wide his eyes leak tears. “I’m trying,” he
whines, back arching as he grinds down, gasping for breath. “It’s--you’re so--
ahh, you’re--”
“T-there you go,” Eichi gasps, his face buried into Leo’s hair, his hips
rolling up harder, deeper, until he hears skin slap and stick together. It’s a
lewd, wet sound, and he groans, his fingers pinching Leo’s nipples, thumbing
over the abused nubs as he nuzzles into the sweaty skin of Leo’s neck. “There,”
he whispers, dragging one hand down, stroking down Leo’s stomach, down to where
his fingers can grab at a slender hip and pull him down again into his next
thrust up into him. “It’s all inside. You’re being so good for me, aren’t you,
taking all of it?” He nudges Leo’s hair aside, sucking on the side of his neck
as he rocks up slower now, savoring that tight, aching slide when Leo is still
so tight around him, but still…it’s easier now, and flickering, golden sparks
of light flutter from his fingertips wherever they drag over Leo’s skin. “Who
says you have to be king?” he murmurs. “You can just…stay here, like this, all
day, and be my toy.”
Maybe it’s the magic. Maybe it’s the heat. Maybe it’s the thick pulse of
Eichi’s cock inside of him that makes the offer so appealing for a moment,
makes his cock ache, makes him groan as Leo rocks down onto Eich’s cock. Leo
would love to believe it’s any of those things that makes him gemstone-hard,
that makes his skin flush as he grinds, but he knows the truth. The truth is,
it’s those words getting to him, the idea of being kept in Eichi’s office, on
his lap as a pretty pet, pampered and cared for and only useful for how well he
keeps the Emperor’s cock warm. The idea is a relief, after being told how
important he is for so long, after having every decision in the world placed on
his shoulders--should he avenge Izumi? should he kill his father? should he
side with High Harbor, or the North, or the West? should he outlaw prostitution
in the Sandlands, fishing on the beach, child-snatching by wizards? If he turns
men into criminals, who will feed their families?--it sounds nice to just lay
back, relax, and let someone else make all the choices. He relaxes, and
suddenly the cock in his ass feels a hundred times better, stroking him in all
the right places, letting him ease back. “Ah...Excellency...I...I want you
to...to...”
Feeling the way Leo relaxes about him makes Eichi thrust up harder, muffling a
low groan into his shoulder. Even as small as Leo is, as large as his cock is,
it somehow nestles inside of him easily now, and Eichi takes his time to rub up
inside of him, finding the angle that feels best not only for himself, but that
makes Leo squirm and squeak. “You want me to?” he murmurs, gently rubbing his
thumb over one of Leo’s nipples, feeling Leo’s pulse throbbing through it.
“Then I’ll just keep you right here. You…can just wait in here for me, stay on
a leash underneath my desk until I need you, and be my little pet. You like
that idea, don’t you, Your Highness?” He shifts, shoving up harder with a
breathless, ragged grunt. “Don’t you, Leo?”
If he had a year, Leo doesn’t think he could come up with a reason for why that
makes him come that doesn’t embarrass him. Worse is the way it happens--he
feels Eichi rock up into him perfectly, hears those sinful words in his ear,
feels those cool fingers tug at him, and he can see the desk that Eichi wants
to keep him under, wants to keep him there to service and obey. One more rock,
and he cries out, painting the side of the desk, another pulse splattering over
his stomach, his whole body trembling. He pants, shallow breaths not enough,
and the thick heat in him throbs so hard he almost comes again right away,
cheeks flushed a deep, embarrassed red.
Eichi muffles his voice by biting into Leo’s shoulder. His fingers grab at
Leo’s hips, squeezing, his nails digging in, pulling him down into his cock
hard as he ruts up once, maybe twice more before he comes with a long, aching
pulse. He groans, his eyes squeezing shut as he spills, seeing the magic even
behind closed eyes, every last jerk of his hips making him hold Leo tighter.
His cock gives another last, overstimulated throb, and Eichi shivers, dragging
a hand up Leo’s stomach, through the mess splattered there, and shoves a pair
of his fingers into Leo’s mouth, twisting them against his tongue. “Maybe I
should just keep you here,” he breathlessly says against Leo’s neck. “I’ll make
that blood pact stronger by feeding you my cock next.”
Leo lets out a wet, choked noise, tears streaming down his face as Eichi’s cock
drags out a few last spurts from his cock, dripping down the shaft. A thin
trickle of drool drips from his chin, and he shivers, arms wrapped around
himself as he tries to stop shaking. “Is it...” His mind is too cloudy for any
other words, and he just tips backward, resting his head back against Eichi’s
shoulder, then just sighs loudly.
Eichi slings an arm around Leo’s waist, pulling him back into his chest. The
last, glittery little orbs of light filter their way into Leo’s limbs. “That’s
a good boy,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of Leo’s head, his fingers
carefully combing Leo’s sweaty hair back from his face. “All done. Mm, you’re
all mine now, isn’t that nice.”
“And you’ll...keep to your word.” Leo clings to that, in a sea of hazy emotions
and feelings. “You’ll join the quorum. So you’re mine, too. Ah, I’m so full,
please help me--”
“Yes, yes, I’ll join you…ahh, your father is certainly going to have a fit,
isn’t he?” Eichi laughs, shifting underneath Leo, contemplative. “You don’t
like it in there? Mmn, I was just thinking it might be fun to go once more
before I let you go…”
Leo lets out a half-pained little whine, grabbing the edge of the desk to pull
himself up. He feels liquid start to slide down his leg, and grimaces. “Thank
you, that’s...enough for now, I think.” Even if it’s been an achingly long time
since I’ve come that hard.
Eichi’s expression shifts to amusement, and he helps Leo up the rest of the way
before pulling out a handkerchief and casually offering it to him. “Well,
then,” he hums, leaning back and tucking himself back into his robes. “You
might as well be on your way, Leo. Call me, when you’re ready to speak to your
father and dump him on his arse.”
“I have two more people to convince first.” Leo takes the handkerchief, and
starts to mop himself up, wincing. “Then I’ll be back, with the contract.” He
pauses, then adds, “Thank you, Excellency. I look forward to working with you
in the future.”
“Mention my name to the head of the Artist’s Guild, and he’ll agree.” Eichi
leans back contently in his chair, brushing a strand of hair out of his face.
“Don’t mention my name to the captain of the Kingsguard, and he’ll probably
agree. Bold of you, to come to me first. I like that.”
“If I could convince you,” Leo says frankly, pulling up his trousers, “I can
convince everyone. And if not, it wouldn’t matter.”
Eichi beams. “Fair enough! Ah, you are a lovely creature, aren’t you.” He runs
a finger down Leo’s spine, sighing. “If you change your mind, my office
awaits.”
Leo firmly strangles the part of his mind that sort of wants to drop to his
knees right now. His face flushes, and he nods, then turns, marching smartly
out the door, headed towards the Merchant and Artist’s Guild house.
***** Chapter 32 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
“Shuuu.”
Shu. Wake up, love.
 “Shuuu…ahh…Shu, you can’t be dead…mm…I know you aren’t, I can hear your blood
going bubble…bubble…”
Shu, you did so well, you worked so hard, I know, but you have to wake up.
 Cool, wet hands smooth down Shu’s face, pushing his hair gently out of his
face. “Shu…don’t make me…take you back to the sea…”
I’m waiting for you. Don’t worry about me, just wake up.
 Long, startling blue hair tumbles down over damp shoulders, and strangely
green eyes peer down into Shu’s face, narrowing in observation. “He’s
definitely…alive…hmm…Shu…are you listening to me…?”
Slowly, grasping at that voice in his mind more than the voice in front of him,
Shu fumbles his way towards wakefulness. The draught he’d taken had been
enough, combined with his faked “final strike,” to convince just about everyone
that he was truly dead, especially as he hovered at the verge of actual death
for a few long days. It had necessitated the slow brewing of a potion few
humans know about, hidden behind his other potion in a much smaller cauldron,
stashed away for the exact right moment. It had also necessitated finding his
soul a place to rest outside his own body, which was even more difficult--but
manageable, and no one would likely check a little figurine of a fluffy dog
stashed in his pocket.
But now, he claws his way out, shattering the statue as he draws in a breath.
He opens his eyes, sees a familiar face, and breathes out. “Kanata, my friend.
Then I must be safe.”
Kanata sighs out a long, relieved breath, a pleased smile slowly curling his
lips. “You were thrown…into the sea,” he explains, pushing his hair back over
his shoulders. The sound of the ocean isn’t far from them, in fact; it laps
slowly and shallowly at the dry, elevated rock that Shu rests upon. In the
shallow water, however, Kanata remains, partially submerged from the waist
down. “I pulled you from it…and the human, Chiaki’s friend…”
“I don’t have the energy to think about who that is right now,” Shu says
wearily, brushing wet hair out of his face. “But thank you. One moment.”
He closes his eyes, and breathes.
My lord. I’m here, I’m awake. What are your orders?
 There you are. Rest for now, love; Wataru has been injured severely thanks to
you, and the Emperor has stilled his advances and focused elsewhere. Mika,
Tsumugi, Natsume, Makoto; they’re all safe.
 “Ah,” Kanata says, staring up at the ceiling of the cave, where condensed
water drips slowly down onto them. “I hope Rei is well. Tell him…his doggie was
here, several days ago…to check in…but now…he, too…is gone…”
Your puppy was here to check, but he’s gone now, my lord. I am...very tired. I
fear that my body may have been pushed beyond its limits at last. Ah, but don’t
worry, I’ll recover with time. What of you? Have those blockheads rescued you
yet, or must I do everything myself?
 Shu wipes a droplet of water from his face with distaste. “How far from shore
are we? Ah, I despise the magic-canceling properties of this ocean that you
love so much, the only thing I can do out here is contact Rei.”
“Not…too far,” Kanata languidly, happily says, and below the surface of the
water, something heavily scaled in brilliant, pearlescent turquoise and green
swishes. “Enough for safety.”
He dives below the water again, disappearing, swimming as swiftly as any fish
to another raised rock, presumably to check in on the other human he has
rescued.
Rest. Please don’t push yourself again, now isn’t the time. If those
‘blockheads’, as you call them, have any sense, they’re circling back to
retrieve you. I’m not in need of any rescuing yet. The Emperor has found
something new to focus on, as I’ve said.
 Shu sends a soothing tendril of energy, a pulse of healing affection along
their bond. You rest too, my lord. You sound tired. Tired, and hiding it. I
know that voice.
Hardly. Talking to you rejuvenates me.
 “Ahh…if you won’t wake up…into the healing waters you go~…”
A splash follows those words, and Kanata gently pokes and prods at his other
prize, keeping his head above water, but that’s about it, to be honest. “Wataru
didn’t think about that, did he…silly, silly…this whole sea is mine, mine…”
By the way, about Ritsu…please let me know if you hear from him. I hope he’s
smart enough to stay far away from the Academy, but…
 Of course, my lord. I’ll keep both eyes open, and both ears as well. Be safe,
or I’ll worry to death. This is your warning.
 With those teasing words, Shu sets the connection aside, opening his eyes
properly on the real world. They fix upon the blond, damp head of Captain
Arashi, whose entire left side looks like a single mottled bruise mixed with
rotten meat. Shu winces, and asks Kanata, “How could he possibly be alive? What
do you think he is?”
“Soooomething…his heart is beating, listen…you can hear it…”
Kanata, instead of letting Shu do just that, drags Arashi further underneath
the water, which now glows as much as the glittery scales of his tail do
underneath the slowly lapping waves. He hums, stroking Arashi’s hair, long,
sharp nails careful not to slice for once. “I can help him, in the water…I
helped you, too.” His eyes lid, brilliantly, oddly too-bright as he looks to
Shu. “How is Rei? The Emperor…won’t come for us again, I think, not for a
time…you scared him…”
“Good.” Shu leans his head back, so weary that it feels as if he can’t keep it
up on his neck any longer. “Rei is enduring. I’ll get him out eventually. Ah,
at least I can still do this much, and send Wataru running with his wings
between his legs. Doubtless his Emperor will sew him a new pair eventually, but
that much gossamer isn’t easy to come by.” His eyes trace over Arashi’s
drifting hair. Mika, what did you fall in love with?
“If you come back into the water…Shu…it might feel nice…” Kanata hums, cradling
Arashi against him as if he’s some kind of disturbing doll. “The sea is good.
My sea…is the best. Do you remember…when Wataru used to be…so different. He was
so sad, but now…” He trails off. “Are you hungry?” he then asks suddenly, and
his hand reaches out into the shallows, reemerging with a wriggling silver fish
caught in his grasp. “You should feed…”
“I will throw up if you put that near me,” Shu says wearily, and he rolls,
flopping into the water. It does ease his aches and pains, relieving some of
his weariness, and he sighs. “He’s too big to be a good doll, you know. They
should be small and lovely. What’s a fish you like? I’ll make you one, when I’m
feeling better.”
Kanata tosses the fish in the air, and lunges for it, sucking it down in one,
wiggly bite. “I like…eels,” he says, wiggling his now empty fingers. “Those are
very good…and long…”
Kanata’s eyes lid, and his long, fish-like tail curls, the filamentous,
seaweed-like ends of his fins of it swaying slowly back and forth with the
tides. “If you need me…I’ll come…and fight…with all of you,” he softly says.
“But on the land…mm…I’m not sure my powers hold the same strength they used
to.”
Shu’s smile is wry. “I feel the same way,” he says softly. “But I have no ocean
to retreat to. Just stay here for the moment, I wouldn’t want to force you to
fight against Wataru. It pains me enough to have to do it.”
“But you did. And…you did more…than any of us could have, I think…” Kanata
tilts his head. “You…should scold Rei more. You can. He’s yours.”
“I don’t want to scold him. If I can do this...well.” Shu flaps a hand, tired
again, and lets his fingers curl in Arashi’s hair. He sends out as much magic
as he can, surrounded by the ocean as he is, in an attempt to soothe some of
the pain the man must be in. “Just keep praising my skills, that and watching
my spells take form is as good as a night’s rest and a full meal to me.”
“But if you scolded him more…maybe he’d be better behaved…”
Kanata’s head jerks up abruptly, eyes narrowed at a sound that only he seems to
hear. “Hold him, don’t let his head go under the water,” he says, pushing
Arashi into Shu’s grasp before he dives into the shallows, disappearing as
swiftly as any fish would into the deeper water that lies beyond.
He reemerges outside of the cave, hair trailing behind him as he peers up onto
the bluffs. Chiaaaakiiiiiii. Even if humans can’t explicitly hear these kinds
of things, it’s usually enough to give them a nudge in the right direction…and
Kanata has known Chiaki for quite awhile, after all.
Not five minutes later, Chiaki rides into view on Valor’s back, eyes scanning
the water for any sign of Kanata. He sights, and rides down the bluffs, face
split in one of his beaming grins. “Kanata! You look well! Wait for me!”
He swings off Valor’s back, quickly hobbling him, then wading into the ocean,
uncaring of his clothing, hurrying to Kanata’s side. “Things are quite crazy
right now! But no worries, I’ll keep the land safe if you keep the sea the
same, haha!”
Kanata, without hesitation, hauls Chiaki further into the water with him.
“I…have your friend,” he says, clutching at Chiaki’s hands. “And…my
friend…but…neither of them should leave the water right now, it’s safe…and
helping…and one of them is very…not good. I’m not sure how long even I can…keep
him.”
“Friends are good to have,” Chiaki assures Kanata, squeezing his hands. “Thank
you! I have friends, too. Together, we’ll keep this realm safe.”
“Chiaki. I’m going to drown you…if you don’t listen to me.”
“I’m good at holding my breath, haha! Remember last time? When we made love in
the cave?”
Kanata’s lips purse, and he grabs Chiaki’s arm, dragging him through the water
towards the cave in question. Sometimes, it’s just better to show him, rather
than trying to explain things to him when they’re both rather terrible at it.
His tail lashes slowly, curling partially around Chiaki’s leg once they make it
to shallower water. “Look,” he says, gesturing broadly to Shu and Arashi. “I
found them. One mine, one yours. Yours…can’t come out of the water, or he’ll
die…maybe. Did you find the healer-snake? Go get him.”
“I did find him! Ah, I’m sure they’ll be very relieved to know that their
friends are all right. I’m hugging you now!” True to his word, Chiaki sweeps
Kanata up into a powerful hug, ignoring his scales. “If you take me back to the
beach, I’ll go fetch him!”
Kanata almost lets him be distracted by Chiaki’s warmth, but that only lasts
for a moment. Feeling the worryingly delicate life in his seas is much easier
when Chiaki is around, for whatever reason, and so he wriggles his way free,
snatches him by the arm again, and starts pulling him back to shore. “Go,” he
orders, giving him a firm push once they reach shallower water. “I’m…going to
go guard them.” And he disappears with a flip of his tail, blending in with the
blue of the ocean.
Chiaki sighs after him for a moment. How beautiful. Then he catches his horse,
and rides back up to the road, waving an arm at Izumi. “Hoo! Come down here,
Izumi!”
“What are you doing all the way down there?” Izumi snaps, spurring Vale forward
over the steep slope of the bluffs down to the beach. Chiaki, it turns out, is
at least as tireless in searching as he is. That’s the one compliment he can
give the man when he’s personally exhausted and running on fumes. “Please tell
me you found something.” I’m starting to get nervous about leaving Tsukasa and
Tsumugi with too much responsibility.
“We’ll have to swim,” Chiaki announces, this time finding a large driftwood log
and tying Valor’s reins to it. “Ready?”
“No, I’m not ready. Where the hell am I swimming to?”
“Let’s go!” Chiaki insists, and grabs Izumi’s hand, heading for the water.
“There’s no time to waste!”
“Is this how you regularly command your men?” Izumi demands, leaving Vale
untethered, convinced he’ll just eat seaweed and remain unmoving. “Just by
dragging them places? Did you find them or something? Gods, you make me want to
strangle you.”
“It’s not a long swim,” Chiaki promises. “I won’t let you drown! I think I know
where we’re supposed to go!” He starts to swim, thinking as hard as he can,
Kanata! I’m coming!
Good boy, Chiaki…is a good boy.
 “I know how to swim, you dolt, just answer my—ugh, forget it!”
Izumi jumps in after him, almost relieved at the burst of cold. Chiaki does
seem to have a specific path in mind, and when he starts to slow, it’s in front
of a cave, hidden within the shadows of the bluffs, with the entrance obscured
by higher waters.
Once inside, he comes up for a full, long drought of air, raking his wet bangs
back from his face, and the sight makes him freeze. “Shu?” Immediately, he
swims faster towards the shallows, before they come not even to his waist,
and—“Fuck. Arashi. Give him to me, right now, right now.”
“Good,” Kanata sighs, slowly pulling himself up to rest on a water-smoothed
rock, picking bits of clinging seaweed from his tail. “Chiaki…thank you, you
were fast…”
“A real hero will always come when you call,” Chiaki assures Kanata, reaching
up to squeeze Kanata’s shoulder. He grimaces at the sight of Arashi, who looks
far more like a corpse than a hundred corpses he’s seen. “Are you sure he’s
still alive?”
“He’s alive,” Shu confirms, helping to steer Arashi’s floating body over
towards Izumi. “There’s nothing I could do but dull the pain. Obviously! I’m
not a healer.”
“The water…keeps him in stasis…” Kanata says. “So don’t…pull him out.”
Izumi says nothing, already too focused in pulling Arashi over to him. He sucks
in a sharp breath as he looks his friend over—don’t panic, don’t panic, just
fix him—and sets himself to work on the most egregious, most obvious of
injuries of first. Maybe if he starts there, maybe…
“I think,” Kanata says conversationally, blinking large eyes at Shu, “that he
isn’t human. Maybe…his great…great…great…great…great grandparent…was
something…”
“Or he was blessed as a child by something really powerful,” Shu agrees
wearily. “Either way...lucky for him. Can you do it, Izumi? Kanata and I can
only keep him alive like that for so long.”
“Stop talking to me.”
“He’s a rude child,” Kanata says, unfazed. “Ice-bred always are…I knew an ice
drake once…that stole all my fish.”
Arashi takes a wet, ragged breath, and Izumi sucks in a nervous one of his own,
trying to work even faster. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, eyes lidded as he
focuses, keeping his hands on Arashi’s chest. The dark, heavy bruising already
is gone, with the ripped, torn skin soon to follow. His head aches a little
more with every single thing that heals, but whatever; he can pass out after
this is finished.
Arashi’s eyes flutter for the first time, confused and curiously fuzzy.
“I...zu...mi?” he asks softly, on a whisper of breath through lungs that feel
shredded.
“Don’t talk, just stay still.” Izumi’s vision blurs, the sheer amount of energy
it seems to take to heal this much, this fast making him sweat and tremble.
“I’ve got you,” he dazedly promises, watching shredded flesh mend underneath
his fingertips. That’s not even counting what must be patching together inside.
That has always taken more effort. “And I’ve got…Mika..he’s f-fine, so just
relax, okay?”
Arashi sighs, shudders, and his eyes close again, the tension smoothing out of
his face.
Shu puts a hand on Izumi’s shoulder, lips moving. “I’m trying something,” he
mutters, and the next second, sends a questing tendril of magical energy, a
‘loan,’ over to Izumi. “Can you feel that? I have no idea, since you’re not a
wizard, but you’re doing deliberate magic, so perhaps...”
“That…that helps, yes, thank you,” Izumi murmurs, though his focus doesn’t
waver. His legs still shake, every ache and pain he’d felt before intensified
times twenty, but at least he isn’t about to pass out. Now is not the time for
that.
“Is he half?” Kanata asks curiously, leaning over to watch. “I’ve never seen
any drakes that were half…only…very diluted blood…or full blood. Half
drakes…heal like full ones…I suppose…”
“Yes, thanks, please don’t drip on me right now.”
“He’s half,” Shu confirms wearily, sending as much energy as he can spare, only
breaking off the link when he nearly falls over. “Strong. His father was likely
very old, and very powerful. No idea what the Captain is, though.”
“Gods, I’ve always said he wasn’t human,” Izumi bemoans. “But I was joking…”
“I can smell it,” Kanata hums. “He’s…something.”
“So helpful.” Izumi’s fingers splay over Arashi’s chest, feeling the way his
lungs expand far more normally now, and he trembles again, pulling back after a
few more minutes. “That’s…that’s all I can do right now,” he says, wiping sweat
off of his already damp forehead. “Most of it’s done, he’s not going to die.
I’ll…I’ll finish it up once we’re out of here. I need to eat a whole cake.”
Tsukasa is on to something when it comes to shoveling sweets into his mouth.
“Usually I’d say that’s disgusting, but...same.” Shu slumps over, hand trailing
in the water from sheer inability to lift his arm. “Any kind of bread, really.
Flaky rolls would be best, but...”
“I know a baker on Cobalt Street that has the best sweet rolls in the country,”
Chiaki offers. “When we get back to shore, I can get a whole tray of them for
you two.”
“You should eat a fish.”
“I’m not going to do that.” Izumi catches hold of Shu’s arm, helping him over
to Chiaki. “Carry him back, would you?” Izumi pauses, actually looking at
Kanata for the first time, at his long, fish-like tail in the place of legs,
and the glittering scales that extend beyond it in patches on his chest and
arms and neck. “And, ah…um…”
“Kanata,” Kanata introduces himself with a smile, his tail flipping slowly in
the water. “I’ll take…Chiaki’s friend back…and you, half-drake.”
“Don’t call me that. Izumi, that’s my name. I can swim, thank you—“
“No. You hold Chiaki’s friend, and hold onto me.”
“You know, whatever, fine,” Izumi exhales, pulling Arashi firmly into his arms
and dog-paddling his way over to Kanata.
“I like to think of myself as a strong swimmer,” Chiaki says with a grin,
helping Shu climb onto his back as he starts swimming. “But then I went
swimming with Kanata! He is a much stronger and faster swimmer!”
“You’re very tiring, even though you have a wonderful body,” Shu says with a
sigh, clinging to Chiaki’s neck from behind.
“I feel the exact same way,” Izumi calls after him wearily, holding onto Arashi
as well as he can, his other arm looped about Kanata’s neck. “Oh. Your scales,
they’re…they’re sort of…soft?”
“We’re going,” Kanata sing-songs, and moves as swiftly as any fish through
water—no, swifter, with enough strength behind every swish of his tail to
propel him far ahead of Chiaki.
It’s actually a terrifying ride, and Izumi craves land. He pries himself away
once they’re in the shallows, pulling Arashi with him, and nearly passes out
the second he hits the shore, panting as he stares up at the sky. “I’m a land
snake,” he groans. “Leave me on the sand.”
“You’re completely weak when it comes to water, interesting,” Shu says, though
he looks rather green in the gills himself, stumbling off of Chiaki’s back to
try and catch his footing. “Ah, can someone find me a cup? I need to talk more
clearly to my lord.”
“There will be one on Cobalt Street, I’m sure,” Chiaki assures him. “At the
bakery, if not somewhere else. Kanata, are you all right?”
“I’m not completely weak! I love the water, but like—fresh water, without
waves, without salt, without riding on the back of—of—him!”
“Mm, I’m fine,” Kanata reassures him, his tail flipping slowly in the water.
“If you need me…I’m here…” His eyes lid, and he crooks a finger. “Chiaki. One
second.”
“Ah, need a recharge?” Chiaki asks knowingly. He steps forward, shoes digging
into the sand, and takes Kanata into his arms, dipping him low and kissing him
hard.
Kanata exhales a low, content noise, draping his arms around Chiaki’s neck, his
long nails curling slowly against his back as his tail flaps gently in the
water. “Good recharge,” he murmurs, his eyes lidded when he finally draws back,
petting Chiaki’s wet hair with equally damp fingers. “Chiaki…don’t forget me,
okay?”
Ah. So it’s like that. Izumi coughs out a bit of seawater and slowly stumbles
to his feet, grabbing Vale before he can start meandering close enough to chew
on Arashi’s hair. “Right, I’m getting him back to the estate, where I’m certain
there are also cups,” he mutters. “Morisawa, when you’re done, help me get
Arashi onto my horse, my arms are all wobbly.”
“Where do I lift him by?” Chiaki asks, thoroughly damp and halfway tousled. “I
don’t want to hurt him, and he’s still so...raw looking.”
“He’s awake,” Arashi mutters, struggling to stand. His teeth are gritted
against pain, and he manages to stand, even though tears stream freely from his
eyes. “I’m fine, where’s Mika? Where’s my horse, where’s Mika?”
“Mika is at the estate,” Shu says with a sigh. He flaps a hand, stumbling
forward to rest against Izumi’s evil horse. “Sorry. I can’t help with the pain
anymore, I need my lord, or a bed.”
“Stop trying to stand, you idiot,” Izumi frets, and in his haste, just grabs
Arashi by the arms to better steady him. Healing seems rather beyond him at the
moment, but he tries, though more successful is probably what Leo always used
to call the ‘wintermint’ effect, which is good for numbing pain, if nothing
else. “Mika is fine, I swear, I took care of him. I’ll finish fixing you, but
I’ve got to eat something, so let’s just get you on Vale and we’ll go and do
that, okay? Morisawa, just…help Shu onto your horse so we can get him back to
the estate, too, if you would. Gods, thank you, Vale, for not eating Shu right
now…”
Arashi manages to get onto Vale by sheer willpower, swaying in his seat as he
leans against Izumi. The pain is almost bad enough that he throws up, but he
chokes it down. His body needs all the calories he can get for energy. “How bad
was it?” he asks quietly. “I just remember the Emperor saying something, and
laughing, and reaching out to hit me, and then...the ocean...”
“If you keep holding onto me, I’ll keep trying to numb you as much as I can,”
Izumi murmurs, picking up Vale’s reins and turning him carefully for the
estate. At least Vale seems to understand his rather precarious cargo, and
picks his way as gingerly as he ever has across the beach and back up the
bluffs. “You want the badass answer?” he says with a ragged laugh. “You should
be beyond dead right now.”
Arashi grimaces. “I don’t even want to know how bad it looked. Ah, that
feels...really good, thank you. Shit, I did a good thing the day I grabbed you
for my army, didn’t I?”
“Don’t worry, your face doesn’t look bad,” Izumi reassures him, sparing a quick
glance over his shoulder to make sure that Chiaki is following before turning
down the road that leads to the back of the estate. The front is still in
disrepair, blocked off by guardsmen, and while Izumi has some reservations
about still staying here, it seems safe enough, with the Emperor apparently
being as distracted as he is right now. Shu must’ve really done a number on
that other Nightcloak. “And yes, you did. I think I’m pretty great, too,
thanks.”
Once around to the back gate, Izumi waves a hand to the guards, and they pull
the gate open enough for him to walk Vale through it. “Right—when I get down,
just keep a hold on my hand, and the numbing stuff won’t stop,” he says,
twisting around to grab one of Arashi’s hands already. “And as soon as I eat, I
can keep fixing you up. I think it’s just some minor internal stuff now…and a
lot of superficial things, judging by the way you’re moving, but…”
Arashi gives him the ghost of a smile. “I’d rather keep hearing my bones crunch
when I move than have people think I like you, no thanks.” Which is a much
ruder and less embarrassing way of urging,take care of yourself first, idiot.
“But where’s Mika? Where’s my Mika, I need to see him.” He lets go of Izumi’s
hand, swaying slightly as the pain takes hold. He breathes in, breathes out. I
acknowledge you,he thinks at the pain.I’m not pushing you away, I swear. I’m
just going to keep doing my thing while you do yours, by warning me I’m being
dumb again.
It usually works, and does now, letting Arashi at least move his body without
feeling like pain is stealing his will to live. He swings down from Vale’s
back, landing hard, and looking around the courtyard through blurry eyes.
“If you don’t stop being stubborn, you’re not going to live to see him, you
ass!”
Izumi lands next to him, exasperated, and shoves Vale’s reins into the hand of
the trembling stableboy before grabbing Arashi by the arm. “Just come with me.”
Neither of them are moving terribly fast, but Izumi makes quick enough work of
the halls. “I have him in the room I was staying in,” he admits. “Because I
thought…I don’t know, being in the one you two had would freak him out. He’s
pretty…out of it, are you sure you don’t want me to finish with you first?”
“If I thought you could heal a black eye right now, I’d take you up on it,”
Arashi says with a gasp, somehow managing to follow along. “You obviously need
food and sleep, and you got me...ah, somewhat functional. Just--please stand in
front of me when he first sees me, I don’t want him to hug me hard then get
surprised when I drop dead.”
“Sleep is for weak children of the capital,” Izumi deadpans, turning when he
stops in front of his bedroom door to stare up at Arashi. “Stop trying to die
already,” he quietly says, then just opens the door. “Mika—“
Mika is already there, obviously having heard Arashi’s voice, and Izumi grabs
him before he can launch through the door and leap at Arashi’s currently too-
delicate body. “No, no, no,” Izumi grunts, wrestling him back, throwing him
over his shoulder with a last burst of adrenaline to keep Mika from doing
serious harm. “No, he’s still hurt, he’s going to lie on the bed and you can
curl up next to him—“
“Kara,” Mika sobs, still kicking and squirming to try and get away, reaching
out a desperate hand for Arashi. “Kara, I k-knew you wouldn’t leave me, I knew
it—let me touch him!”
“Don’t shriek in my ear, you beast! Gods, and I thought I was bad about Leo.
Get on the damned bed, Arashi.”
“I’m all right, amaka,” Arashi assures Mika, tears springing in his eyes again
from emotion this time. He shuffles slowly to the bed, grimacing when he feels
his hip socket crunch as he turns his body. His face goes white, but he doesn’t
stop moving, sitting on the bed, then slowly getting onto one side. “Come here,
darling, I’ll never leave you, but please be gentle, half my bones are powder
today."
“Don’t climb on him,” Izumi hisses, slowly releasing Mika once he seems to have
calmed to merely vibrating instead of a kicking and writhing mass.
Mika clambers over the bed, curling up in a shivering, still-vibrating ball
against Arashi, but not on him, as instructed. He exhales a quiet, nervous
little whimpering sound, and stays there, unmoving and quiet again.
“Right,” Izumi exhales, wiping a hand down his face and trying not sway where
he stands. “Give me twenty minutes,” he says, backtracking out of the room.
“I’m going to eat…whatever I can find, because that’s how much I fucking love
you, Milady.”
“Ask for Barda in the kitchen,” Arashi advises, letting a hand drape over
Mika’s shoulder, eyes closing. “Tell her she has nice eyes, she’ll give you
whatever you want. Ah, amaka, don’t cry so much, you’re going to make me feel
very guilty for dying.”
Mika’s eyes are enormous as he stares at Arashi. “You…you died?”
“Don’t tell him, fuck,” Izumi mutters, shaking his head as he backtracks out of
the room, shutting the door behind him. His legs wobble, threatening to give
out. Not yet. Give me one more hour, then you’ll get your rest.
Stumbling all the way to the kitchen yields poor results. Barda, it seems, is
out, and so snagging an entire bread loaf off the counter is his best option,
which he gnaws on until he hears the tell-tale sounds of Chiaki and Shu
returning. He slowly peels himself off the counter, grabbing a cup to take with
him as he heads towards the common room. “If he didn’t take you by the bakery,
I’ve got bread,” Izumi hazily greets. “And a cup. For…whatever thing you needed
it for. Mika’s too crazy for you right now, by the way, just wait.”
“We went by the bakery!” Chiaki exclaims, brandishing a brioche roll. “Ah,
thank you for the stimulating ride, my friend. And now, I will go back to my
men!”
When he leaves, Shu gives Izumi a little smile, turning the cup over and over
in his hands. A few crumbs fall off his shirt, where there are many, many more.
“I was hungry,” he says, too tired to be defensive. “My lord and I can talk
more easily with the help of cups. What’s wrong with Mika?”
Izumi collapses down into another chair, uninterested in keeping up appearances
when there isn’t another soldier around to comment. “He thought both you and
Arashi were dead,” he answers, gnawing on his bread loaf slowly. This part of
it is a little stale. He doesn’t really care, it’s not like he can taste it
right now. “So that’s been. Exciting.”
“Ridiculous, I told him I wouldn’t die a virgin,” Shu says with a sniff. “It
isn’t my fault if he didn’t believe a prophecy. Is that bread really enough for
you?”
“I puke if I eat anything else when I’m like this. Sweets work faster, but they
also come back up faster,” Izumi wearily explains. “Prophecy or no prophecy, he
definitely thought you were dead. Can you babysit him, maybe, when I finish
with Arashi? If you aren’t talking with your…cup.”
“Rei’s asleep right now,” Shu says, as if it should be entirely obvious. He
stands, and plucks a strand of Izumi’s hair, making it lay correctly. “Let us
take care of it for a moment. You just eat, and have something to drink. Count
to thirty, then you can come up and remove him, once I’ve gentled Mika.”
Izumi hesitates, already thinking of things to argue about, but he settles back
instead, too exhausted to bother. “What is he?” he asks instead, voice quiet.
“I used to joke about it, but…he should be dead. He should be.That’s…the kind
of stuff regular humans don’t come back from.”
Shu shrugs. “No one I trust can say. If you want my guess, he’s a little of
one, a little of another. When bloodlines get muddled like that, it’s hard to
tell what they are, and their powers are more of a lottery than anything. Just
think, if he lived a quiet life, he’d probably never know.” He hesitates. “But
you’re right. No human could ever have survived that. You didn’t see him when
he was knocked into the ocean. Izumi, most of him was just...gone. I, I could
see his heart, beating inside the shredded ribcage--which, by the way, he now
owes me for having to live through seeing that.”
“…Gross,” Izumi settles upon, feeling his stomach lurch a little. He’s not
squeamish about that sort of thing, but it’s the thought of it being Arashi,
more than anything, that is so upsetting. He forces another bite of bread into
his mouth. “He mentioned the Emperor said something to him before fucking him
up. Maybe he knows. I’ll ask, before I punch his face in, inevitably.” He
hesitates, and then asks one last question, unable to help himself. “And Kanata
is…what, exactly? I feel like I would have been more impressed by his mere
existence if I hadn’t been preoccupied, but…”
“Oh, Kanata’s wavebred,” Shu says, sounding relieved to change the subject.
“His father’s mother was a mermaid, so he was half, and fell in love with
another mermaid, so he’s three quarters. It’s an unstable mix, so he doesn’t
have control of his physical characteristics. This is why you must be very
careful of all of your offspring, you know. You never know what you could
make.”
“Whoops,” Izumi wearily says. “Too late. Well, he’s very beautiful, and…very
magical, I’m guessing, if he was able to keep both you and Arashi alive. Are
you all right? Sorry, I’ve been trying to focus on Arashi so much—Mika was very
sure you were dead, too, but you seem…fine.”
“Oh, my ‘death’ was all of my own making. And I was brilliant, wasn’t I?” Shu
beams, straightening up, shoulders squared. “My secret potion stopped all my
bodily functions, making me appear dead, and I was able to separate my soul
temporarily--only because I’m utterly brilliant, of course. I knew that if I
were successful in stopping Wataru at all, the Emperor would be enraged and
take it out on me. The safest bet was to be dead at the time.”
“So that’s what my foot was for,” Izumi murmurs, slumping back. “Well. Thank
the gods you’re brilliant and I was willing to chop off my foot for you. I
don’t really want to think about what Mika would be like if you were really
dead.”
Shu shifts, uncomfortable with the subject. “I worry,” he admits. “That he will
be...less than functional, if something should happen to me. I was hoping to be
able to leave him in his lover’s...mm, adequate care, which reasonable praise
from me, but unfortunately we were both disposed of. I’ll have to think ahead
for how to care for him in such an eventuality, next time.”
“…It’s not like I wouldn’t see that he’s taken care of, if you both died, for
one reason or another,” Izumi slowly settles upon, stuffing another piece of
bread into his mouth. At least now he doesn’t feel like he has to be so frantic
about it. “But I don’t think I’m the idea caretaker. He’s, ah. A little beyond
my purview, you know?”
Shu gives him a severe look--or about as severe as he can manage, under the
circumstances. “He was nearly catatonic. That doesn’t say he was taken care of
to me. And if not you, who? You know him, do you think he has friends falling
out of trees?”
Izumi spreads his hands. “I literally just said he’s beyond my purview. I’ve
barely had him for two days, I did my best in the circumstances! He won’t even
look at me half the time. I’ll take the fact I kept him from blowing everything
up as a sign that I did a decent job.”
“Disappointing, I expect more. I will hold you to far higher standards the next
time I fake my own death.”
“Can you not? Where’s your husband, why isn’t he doing anything,” Izumi
grouses, climbing to his feet and brushing crumbs off of his entire self. “I
haven’t even met this guy, I’m starting to think he’s a lie. Come on, I’ll walk
with you, I’m feeling as well as I’m going to.”
Shu blinks slowly, then brushes more crumbs off his chest. “He’s imprisoned in
the Academy, obviously. Which is clearly his plan, to be within striking
distance. Ah, I’m pleased that everyone was fooled--you all thought I was going
to rescue him with my potion, didn’t you? Ha!”
“I guess I’m just not that patient,” Izumi wryly admits, ignoring the slight
wobble of his knees when he leads the way back to his room. “I like instant
gratification. For his sake, I hope it works…is he trying to off the Emperor or
something?”
“If I knew,” Shu says softly, walking slowly even if he’s mostly healed, “I’d
be a threat to his plan, unwitting or no. The Emperor has his ways of reading
minds, Izumi. If you have the slightest doubt that someone is messing with your
mind, sending you messages, forcing you to do something, listen to that
intuition. He has never fought fairly.”
Izumi hesitates at that. “…Does he ever…impersonate other people?” he warily
asks. “When I was heading here, for example…I heard Yuukun—ah, Makoto’s voice.
That’s how I found everyone that had been captured.”
Shu’s eyes narrow. “He doesn’t. Wataru is the finest impersonator in the realm,
though--possibly in the world. If they’ve somehow managed to combine their
talents, that could be dangerous indeed. Then again, Makoto is a wizard. It’s
well within his talents to send a message to someone with whom he has a
connection. Did you feel like you were receiving information, or like you were
being compelled?”
“…Is there a difference?” Izumi hazards, shrugging helplessly. His brain is
probably too muddled for this conversation at current. “I mentioned it to him,
and he said he didn’t call out to me magically or anything like that. Just that
he wished I was there to save him. I don’t know, it didn’t seem too weird until
you started talking about how the Emperor can influence people.”
Wordlessly, Shu spreads his hands. He feels battered, weary, and much older
than he’d been a few days ago. “I don’t know how to tell what it was. Just be
on your guard, if you hear it again and it tries to get you to do something
that doesn’t make sense, or that you don’t want to do. Ah, my bones ache. Don’t
heal me, I’m fine, you need all your energy for Mika’s abomination.”
Izumi drops it with a flutter of a hand, and tries not to collapse into his
bedroom door. “If I have any juice left later, I can always make you tingle
while you pet my hair,” he wryly teases, and knocks on the door before opening
it. “Don’t hiss at me, I’m here to fix your love.”
Mika hisses anyway—until he sets eyes on Shu, and he freezes on the spot,
trembling, rooted to the spot on the bed but still clearly wanting to latch
onto him as well. “M…master…” Tears well up into his already-stinging eyes.
“You’re…you’re really…”
“I told you he was fine, gods,” Izumi sighs, dragging himself back over to the
bed and crawling onto it.
“Trade,” Shu offers Arashi, who nods, looking extremely gray around the edges.
The result is a shuffling, slow movement where Shu sits on the edge of the bed,
and Arashi drags himself towards the edge of the bed and Izumi, looking far
more pathetic than he’d ever allow under normal circumstances.
Shu wraps an arm around Mika’s shoulders, and starts fussing with his hair.
“You absolutely went to pieces, you silly bird. As a test run for my death, you
failed with flying colors.”
Mika immediately lurches over to bury himself into Shu’s chest, sniffly and
snotty and not at all able to stop himself. “Y-you coulda warned me,” he
whispers, hands fisting into Shu’s robes. “I saw it, I saw your hourglass
break, I…”
“Just lie down, Arashi,” Izumi orders, easing Arashi back with careful, gentle
hands. He follows after him, slinging a leg over Arashi’s hips to straddle
him—pointedly without putting a single gram of weight upon him—and lean over
him. “I don’t need your participation for this. Fall asleep or something.” His
fingers gingerly brush down Arashi’s face, then settle at the base of his neck,
breathing out a long, shaky sigh as he lets the energy from his own body simply
pour out into healing. Arashi feels like a vacuum for it right now—which is,
frankly, scary, and reminds him of when Leo tried to die, and had simply sucked
him dry.
But that was before he woke up after his own brush with death, and everything
has been…easier, since.
“Sorry if any part of it hurts while it’s doing its thing,” Izumi quietly
apologizes, shutting his own eyes. “It gets weird, I know.”
Arashi’s eyes flutter closed, then open, but they’re glazed, dizzy. “Feels
weird,” he admits. “Like I’m...falling...”
“The hourglass broke? Ah, I am getting better, and I was already outstanding,
ha ha!” Shu preens a little, and pets Mika’s hair more aggressively, even as he
puffs up his chest with pride. “I couldn’t tell you in advance, or the
reactions wouldn’t be real--and after I injured Wataru badly, I knew the
Emperor would love nothing more than to rip me apart...and he would have, if I
hadn’t already been ‘dead,’ you see. I’m brilliant, the plan is brilliant.”
“Once your body starts doing normal things like figuring out that making more
blood is a good thing, that’ll go away,” Izumi mutters, already feeling his
hands start to shake. Not yet, not yet. Literally give me another half hour, I
can do this.“Just…warn me…if you start feeling like you’re going to throw up.”
Mika lifts his head only enough to cast a worried glance in Arashi’s direction
before he wipes his nose on Shu’s sleeve, and surrenders to the petting of his
hair. “Scary,” he whispers. “It was too scary. Master, don’t do that again.
It…it was already the worst to see Arashi’s jus’…jus’ shatter like that,
but…yours…”
“It did what now?” Arashi asks, unfocused eyes looking up in Mika’s vague
direction. “Can it do that? I mean, I didn’t die, obviously, I’m here now, and
I’m nothing magic...”
“You’re something. Not human completely,” Shu says. “Kanata and I agree.”
“Horseshit,” Arashi says bluntly. “My mother’s a washerwoman and my father’s a
carpenter, and trust me, the people in my family don’t have a problem dying, or
I’d know about it.”
“It shattered,” Mika lowly insists, clinging to Shu’s neck as he peers over at
Arashi, watching him through his bangs. “And it’s…it’s back now, but
it’s…weird…” He squints, and his eyes water before he has to shut them.
“Eh?” Arashi struggles up onto his elbows, looking down at his chest as if
he’ll see it himself, when of course he never does. “Weird how? Weird how? I
feel like I need to know how it’s weird!”
“Can you not right now?” Izumi groans, knees wobbling as he finally gives up,
and sits back onto Arashi’s thighs. “Stop moving, this is already hard enough!”
“Weird like…nnh.” Mika shakes his head, burying his face into Shu’s neck. “Not
like the snake’s.”
Arashi’s face goes white, and he lays back quickly, letting Izumi work. “Eh?
How’s Izumi’s weird? And what’s weird about mine?”
“Mika,” Shu asks, curious now, “is my lord’s what you’d call weird, too?”
“Mmnn…and his brother’s…also weird. But all in different ways.” Mika’s fingers
slowly flex against Shu’s back. “The Demon King’s…’s slower than usual, way
slower, and Ritsu’s too, but…their sand is all black, and it turns colors.
Ritsu’s goes all red when he feeds, and the Demon King’s…um…when you do it with
him.”
“Better than a hickey,” Izumi deadpans, feeling a drop of sweat roll down the
back of his neck as he bends over Arashi again.
“Izumi’s…it’s like it’s being flipped, y’know? But not really, um…” Mika
hesitates, thinking for a way to explain it when words don’t want to come.
“Like the sand’s goin’ in both directions at once. It hurts to watch. And
kara’s…it…it used to be normal—kinda oversized, but I’ve seen that before,
nothin’ weird…but now…it…sometimes, it jus’…looks like the sand is stoppin’
sometimes.”
“Stopping sometimes?” Arashi tries to think about what that might mean, but
most of his mental powers are being rerouted to a part of his brain that says
this feels weird, I don’t like it, it does feel kind of good but it mostly
feels weird! “Um, does that mean my life is stopping, or something? Ahh, what
would do that?”
“Mika, do you remember my friend Kuro, that we met last year in the Capital,
with the red hair? You said his was oversized, is that how Arashi’s looks?”
“…Kinda? Not as big as his, but…kinda.” Mika bites his lip. “I…I don’t think it
means your life is stoppin’, kara. It better not. It…it just…I’ve only ever
seen that kinda thing with one other person, but it’s so weird…”
“Kuro is half-ogre,” Shu murmurs to himself, frowning. All the other people
Mika has mentioned are half something or another, none of them fully human, but
Arashi...
“One other? Who? Is it--is it someone dead?” Arashi demands, or tries to demand
when he sounds shaken to the core.
“Nuh-uh.” Mika’s head slowly shakes. “It’s…” He hesitates. “It’s the Emperor.”
“Excellent, his ass is hard to kill,” Izumi distractedly mutters, his eyes
fluttering as he tries to stay focused.
“The Emperor’s…his doesn’t move at all. It’s…it’s so weird. I hate watching it,
it makes me nervous.”
“There you are,” Shu says tiredly, returning to stroking Mika’s hair, tucking
each strand into place where it belongs. “You look something like an ogre, and
something like an angel. Aren’t you special.”
“But...but no one in my family...” Arashi swallows hard, which, for the first
time, doesn’t hurt abominably. “Why didn’t it do this before?”
“Dunno. You’re probably like…tiny fractions, y’know?” Mika slowly settles
underneath the touch of Shu’s hands, loosening his grip on Shu’s robes
somewhat. “But even that’s enough to be special.”
“If you weren’t a soldier getting your ass kicked all the time, you’d never
know,” Izumi murmurs. “Do me a favor…and stop it. Ah, I am seeing some colors,
let me tell you.”
“Knock it off,” Arashi says with a groan, batting Izumi’s hands away. “You
heard my love, I apparently am too special to die. Which is news to me, but
honestly seems sort of fitting.”
“Honestly, Mika, look what you’ve done to my robes--these are Nightcloak robes,
you know, I made them myself, but that doesn’t mean you can wrinkle them as
much as you like--”
“No, I am so…soclose to being done,” Izumi dazedly insists, slumping forward
against Arashi’s chest. “I’ve got you, he’s right, you’re too special to die,
you’re not allowed to.”
“Master,” Mika begins, his lower lip trembling as he pulls back enough to meet
Shu’s eyes. “You fake-died.”
Abruptly, Izumi’s eyes roll back, and he passes out, mouth slack.
“Whoa. He’s just out,ain’t he.”
“Honestly,” Shu says crossly, nudging Mika to the side so he can get Izumi to
sit up. He reaches out a hand, a spark of violet fire flaring at Izumi’s
temple. “This is a very masturbatory little circle we have going on here. Well,
I’m no Healer, and certainly no icebred, but now at least he won’t have a
headache.”
“He’ll be fine,” Arashi says, ignoring Izumi’s prohibitions and sitting up
again, lacing his fingers through Izumi’s hair. “I’m not sure anything can
really kill him. Ah, I used to be so jealous of that...”
Izumi flops limply into Arashi’s shoulder, and Mika wriggles his way over to
fit himself against Arashi’s side again. “If you had died, I would’ve blown up
the whole world,” Mika says very seriously, staring up at him. “So this is
better. Hmm, he’s cuter when he’s sleepin’.”
“Mika,” Shu says sternly, “we’ve talked about this. You need to learn to
function properly on your own, no one wants to hear that--”
“You’d really do that?” Arashi asks, eyes tearing up as he grasps for Mika’s
hands. “You love me that much?”
Mika nods firmly, gripping Arashi’s hands tightly and ignoring Shu completely
for once. “The whole world,” he swears, sniffling. “If…if you were alive and
they had caught me, even, I woulda killed everything and everyone to get back
to you. I can’t do it anymore, I can’t.”
“Can’t do what--Arashi, you fool, you shouldn’t be encouraging this kind of--”
“I’d kill everything and everyone to get to you too, amaka, I’ll never let you
be alone again--I’ll kill the gods if I have to!”
“Kara—“ Mika’s sniffling turns to an outright sob again, and he lurches
forward, clinging to Arashi’s neck. “P-please don’t d-do that again, please
don’t, let’s jus’ run off and get married and I can pretend to be your wife l-
like Natsume does and—“
Izumi’s eyes flutter open just in time to catch the tail-end of the exchange,
and he groans, rolling away with his hands wiping down his flushed face. “Glad
everything’s back to normal,” he breathes, trying to claw himself back into a
sitting position, failing, and so he just lies there for a moment. “Except me.
Whatever.”
“You’ll be fine in a few minutes,” Shu says, amused, as he regards the pair
with something between disgust and grudging affection. “You and I can sulk in a
corner about being without our stupid honorable effervescently unknowable
significant others for the moment while these two...cannoodle.”
Izumi grunts at that, and rolls his way off the bed in spite of how noodle-like
his limbs feel. “Pass. Ah, gods, fuck, my knees feel like they’re sloshing
around,” he bemoans, trembling for a second and bracing a hand on the side of
the bed to stay upright. “I haven’t slept,” he breathes, “in about three days
now. So I’m going to go to do that in…someone else’s room, because this one was
mine and now isn’t. If you need me…can you reconsider for at least four hours?”
Mika sobs into Arashi’s hair, and grabs at Shu’s sleeve again to make sure he
doesn’t leave.
“Taking that as a yes.”
“I’ve been co-opted,” Shu says, pretending to be a lot more annoyed and less
flattered than he is, with a regretful shrug. “Enjoy your rest. You’ve earned
it, and a few years more. I’m sure between the three of us we can keep the
world from exploding for a few hours.”
“Excellent. We’ll talk later. I have…things to say.”
Eloquence, not his strong point right now. Izumi barely manages a wave before
stumbling out of the room, shutting the door, and simply sliding down to the
floor outside of it.
Maybe he’ll just stay here for awhile.
Izumi trembles. Every single part of his body aches, even his brain seems to
ache, and it feels like it’s misfiring, reminding him of too many obnoxious
things at once. You saved them all, now what? Time to drag them back into
danger, your mother started a war, she wants you on the throne, what the fuck
is Leo doing, where is he, is he all right, you don’t have time to be tired.
 Slowly, painstakingly, when he’s fairly certain he can move again, he hauls
himself back up to his feet, and stumbles a few doors down. It’s an empty bed,
it’s good enough, and collapsing down onto it feels better than anything ever
has, he’s pretty sure.
At least his brain shuts up for five seconds, and that’s long enough to find
sleep.
***** Chapter 33 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
It’s only a few hours later that Makoto wearily stumbles into his room,
exhausted from the captivity and the drinking celebration he’d been dragged
into. He flops into bed before looking at it, and almost screams when there’s
someone in it. A moment later, he realizes who it is--familiar smell, familiar
everything familiar feel in my heart--and relaxes, and when Izumi doesn’t stir,
Makoto simply rolls him over and tugs him into his embrace, hopefully providing
some warmth before he passes out into a deep, thankfully dreamless sleep.
But before dawn, the dreamless sleep ceases, and the nightmares come. He’s
locked in a box, he’s being broken apart bone by bone, he’s being kidnapped and
tortured and used against everyone he loves. He twitches, whimpering in his
sleep, fighting the shadows, feeling them lock his body in place with their
screws and lashes and horrible machines.Izumi shifts in his sleep, stirring
slowly. It’s not necessarily what he hears, but more of what he feels, grumpily
flopping over to nestle against the warm body that’s next to him.
Then he cracks his eyes open, and sees that it’s Makoto.
Hmm. That’s not a bad thing. He’s warm and comfortable, but this nightmare that
Makoto is having is no good. Izumi can sleepily register that beyond just the
way that Makoto’s face twists and brow furrows in his sleep, and he runs his
fingers through Makoto’s hair, languidly petting him. “Yuukun,” he murmurs, his
voice hoarse from sleep. “Wake up, you’re having a nightmare.” 
It’s less the voice, more the touch to his hair that startles Makoto out of his
nightmare, instinctively butting his head against that kind touch. He shudders,
and clings to Izumi, burying his face in his shoulder from behind. “Sorry,” he
whispers. “I’m okay. I...we’re in High Harbor, right?”
“Mmn, unless someone moved me while I was playing dead,” Izumi dryly says. He
twists slowly in Makoto’s hold to better continue petting him, pushing his
bangs out of his face. “Feels like comfy High Harbor beds. Heh, were you
drinking?” 
“Sorry...Tsukasa and Subaru said it would make me feel better and help me
sleep. It kind of did, but now my stomach feels...bad. Sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing? I asked because alcohol can give you nightmares, if
you aren’t used to it.” Izumi snuggles further against him, slinging a leg over
Makoto’s hip to keep using him for warmth. “Sorry I stole your bed. I kind of
fell into the first place I could find. I just keep finding my way back to you,
I guess~...” 
“If I were still drunk,” Makoto whispers, “I’d say it was fate. Sorry, that’s
stupid, but...I used to think about it. When we were kids, and you were always
chasing me around...you always found me. I never knew how. I mean, I was
probably just bad at hiding, but...it felt like more.”
“You were bad at hiding,” Izumi confirms, muffling a yawn into Makoto’s
shoulder.   “But maybe it’s fate. What are the odds we’d meet again, hmm?
On...three different occasions now?” Izumi slides his fingers down from
Makoto’s hair, petting his back instead. “I told my mother about you. She
remembers you.” 
“You shouldn’t.” Makoto pokes at Izumi’s shoulder. “Status matters up North.
You’ve been spending too much time with these Southerners. I’m just a cook’s
son, remember?”
“What do you think I told her?” Izumi laughs, and promptly slides a hand
underneath Makoto’s shirt for warmth. Maintaining a proper body temperature is
still difficult after all that healing. Eating would help, but that requires
getting up, so skin-to-skin contact it is. “I just mentioned that you were a
fancy wizard now and we met back up, that’s all. I suppose I could tell her a
few more details, but...” 
Makoto’s face flushes, and he ducks his head, embarrassed. “I just
thought...that she wouldn’t want you being so affectionate with someone like
me. I’m not exactly a fancy wizard, there’s no rank lower than Dawncloak...”
“She wants me to marry some ugly, hairy soldier, so I don’t really want to hear
her opinion on my love life right now,” Izumi snorts. “All wizards are fancy,
you know. It’s not like any regular human can just go out and do magic, stop
putting yourself down.” 
“It’s not like I’m really part of your love life, either, though? You’re...you
and the prince are lovers, right? Tsukasa told me.”
“We’ve had sex, you’re part of my love life,” Izumi crossly says. “Kasa sure
does run his mouth when he’s drunk, doesn’t he.” 
“He said you turned into a monster when he tried to touch the prince’s chest. I
mean, I was there, that’s not what I saw, but he was very convinced.”
“Fucking pussy. I’ll have to kick his ass tomorrow. Today. Whatever time it
is.” Amidst his grumbling, Izumi gets both hands underneath Makoto’s shirt with
a satisfied sigh. “I’m taking you back with me, by the way.” 
“Eh? Back where? Up North? I’m not sure my mother exactly wants me back,”
Makoto admits, shifting to give Izumi’s hands a more comfortable place to be.
“No. When I leave for the capital again.” Izumi’s eyes lid. “My mother has an
encampment there. Currently, she’s starving out the king and the rest of the
capital with him. It’s not ideal, but...at least she’s doing something.” 
Makoto swallows hard, unable to meet Izumi’s eyes. “I’m afraid...that you’ve
been spending time with far more capable wizards, if you think I can help you
with that,” he says, shamefaced. “The difference between what I can do, and
what someone like His Excellency Shu can do...”
“I’m not taking your ass back with me to be a weapon. I’m taking your ass back
there to be safe.” Izumi gently pinches his hip. “Or if you want to be useful,
you could start by telling me what I can expect from you--without fucking
talking down about yourself, because I’m done with that, thanks.” 
Makoto shrinks back. “S-sorry, I’m not...I’m not trying to, I’m just trying to
be realistic? The only thing I’m really good at is researching...I can see
magic that’s already been done and tell you about it? But for practical stuff,
like speaking over long distances, or blowing things up, or making something
out of nothing...I’m not much better at that kind of stuff than you are.”
“Didn’t you loan your magic to that Academy spy before? Mao, that’s his name, I
keep forgetting. That’s useful. You’re so flinchy,” Izumi grouses, flatting
himself more against Makoto to keep him from escaping. “Look, literally even
just having a wizard around makes people think twice, even if you can’t blow up
anything...but none of that is necessary. I’m going to talk to Arashi, and see
if he’ll bring his army.” He brushes Makoto’s hair out of his face again,
thumbing his cheek. “Then we’ll win, you’ll never have to go back to the
Academy’s bullshit again.” 
“Eh? Seriously? But...who’s going to keep us safe?”
“...you know no one’s trying to kill you, right? Like,” Izumi exhales, propping
himself up a bit onto an elbow. “Wasn’t the Academy supposed to just be for
teaching you all originally? That’s what Shu told me. Then it got weird. Take
out the weirdness, and you’ve got a perfectly good thing. Do you wantto go back
to bizarre underwear and the idea that you can’t have sex or relationships?” 
“...No,” Makoto admits. He chews on his bottom lip, worrying it chapped. “It’s
only...before the Academy took over wizard’s welfare, the crown put us to
some...not so great uses, you know? Plus, you know, nowadays if a wizard has an
accident and something goes wrong, like a young one, the Academy takes care of
it and pays the fines, but in the old days, if that happens--and it happens a
lot, when we bloom, we can’t control it--they’d get arrested or fined, and
basically be in slavery to pay off the debt their whole lives.” Makoto
grimaces. “So...who’s going to keep us safe? At least this way, even if it
sucks, it’s wizards telling us what to do, you know?”
“I don’t know all of the answers to that yet,” Izumi quietly says. “And I’m not
even saying all of that’s going to go away. All I know...is that I’m sick and
tired of seeing the people I’ve started calling friends suffer at the hand of
the Academy, and they tried carting you all back in little boxesafter nearly
killing some of the people I really care about...so my patience is at its end.
Something needs to change, and nothing’s going to happen until we start forcing
the issue. Stop chewing on your lips, you’ll make them bleed.” 
Makoto stops, guilty, but he still doesn’t meet Izumi’s eyes. “That’s what the
Emperor is telling people you’re doing, just so you know. Tearing it down
without putting anything else up. It’s why there’s no full-scale revolt among
the wizards. A lot of us live for a long time, so...they remember. Tsumugi’s
been telling me about it.”
“I’m sure the Emperor’s been saying a lot of shit. I don’t really care.” Izumi
sighs, raking a hand back through his hair before he rolls over onto his back
with a resounding flop. “The Demon King’s heavily behind this push, so maybe
he’s got some ideas, but the Emperor’s made sure he’s been kept quiet. I bet a
lot of wizards would be a lot more on board if he could speak.” 
“Oh! Um, please don’t--I didn’t mean I don’t believe in you, or what you’re
doing!” Makoto says hastily. “I’m sorry if it sounded that way--I really do
think you’re doing the right thing! Taking something bad down is for the best,
even if you don’t know what’s going in its place, I think!”
“Shhh.” Izumi stretches a hand over to cover Makoto’s mouth. “When you phrase
it like that, it makes me tired. I’m figuring it out. Just tell me you’re on my
side, that’s what I want to hear right now.” 
“...I’m on your side, Lord Izumi. Always.”
“Good. Thank you.” Izumi rolls onto his side, staring at him through his bangs.
“My mother wants to rip the king off his throne and put me there. Still on my
side?” 
“I’m on your side, Your Majesty.”
Izumi laughs in spite of himself. “That sounds weird, don’t call me that,” he
says, letting his head thunk back against Makoto’s shoulder. “Good, though.
You’re not allowed to leave me.” 
I bet you’re allowed to leave me, though, Makoto thinks wistfully, but he
doesn’t say that. There’s no need to state the obvious, and Izumi has always
been sort of incomprehensible to him on a lot of levels. “All right. I’ll be
here.”
***** Chapter 34 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
Journeying around the world lands Rei in some interesting places, but perhaps
none as interesting as this one today.
The Isles are troublesome to reach, more troublesome to leave, with warm,
pleasant temperatures year round. Koga doesn’t like them, but he’s at the age
where he doesn’t like much of anything at all, and fortunately, Rei finds that
charming rather than aggravating as the ship they snuck onto to arrive here
pulls into port.
After being there for scarcely a week, they run into…an issue.
A blooming wizard isn’t what Rei expects to encounter. It’s one unlike what
he’s seen or heard of in recent memory, involving a prolonged hurricane that
sailors report days in advance, with the eye of the monstrous storm resting
over them for a solid three days. The main island is in shambles after this,
and the culprit, a tiny waif of a boy around the age of nine, local nobility
with long, brilliantly red hair that post-blooming, now sports snow-white
streaks.
The Isles have never had a wizard bloom. The Academy’s feelers don’t reach
here, Rei knows, and that’s why he’s here. But…
In the open, sunny halls of his villa, Rei is faced with a problem,and it’s one
that he doesn’t honestly know how to deal with on his own.
…which is why he discretely invited Wataru, against his better judgement.
“He’s already capable of learning Nightcloak level spells,” Rei lowly explains,
leading Wataru down a corridor to the open common room, where sun pours in
through the ceiling and windows. In direct response to the weather, his own
hair is cropped short, black waves of it barely enough to be tucked behind his
ears, and his wizard robes of old are long discarded for the sake of
discretion. Loose linen clothing is the way of a sailor (or in his case, a
stowaway), and he sports it without care. “He burns through the material faster
than anyone I’ve ever seen. But, more than that…”
Koga’s loud growling greets them when Rei opens the common room door, sounding
as aggressive as any little wolf-child ever could. “I’m not playing cards with
him anymore!” he snaps immediately at Rei, his flurry, furred tail lashing out
in frustration where he sits on the floor. “He cheats, he does!”
Natsume, red hair pulled back in a tail at the base of his neck, blinks back at
Koga in open boredom. “I didn’t. I just saw the card you’d play, and so…”
“Koga, what did I say about having your tail out like that—“
Koga’s growling turns to snarls, and Rei sighs, staring briefly up towards the
ceiling. “Anyway,” he says, as two grey, fluffy ears pop out on Koga’s head as
well. “Wataru, you know Koga, but this is Natsume.”
Natsume stares back at them both, golden eyes wide. “You look like a wizard,”
he tells Wataru. “Like the kind from legends.”
Admittedly, it doesn’t take much to make Wataru preen. This child,
however...he’s something special. Wataru specializes more in being seen than in
seeing, but even his eyes can clearly see the way the boy looks not at the
material, but the ethereal, tracking things that haven’t yet happened.
“Amazing!” he crows, arms flung out to the sides. “Ah, Rei, do you hear? I’m
like a real wizard, like the kind from legends!”
He swoops close, his face barely two inches from the child’s face, his own eyes
swirling in a phalanx of changing colors. The restless wing of a dove peeks out
from his shirt’s collar, and he ignores it. “And so are you, child,” he
murmurs, reaching down to trace a fingertip along the boy’s jaw. “Ah...you have
found something special, Rei, haven’t you?”
Natsume doesn’t flinch back, but his cheeks do slowly flush as he stares up at
Wataru, entranced. “Your hair,” he whispers, “is so long.”
“He’s much sweeter with you,” Rei snorts, amused. “He likes complaining about
the things I tell him to do. Don’t you, Milady?”
“I’m no lady, that’s just what my mom likes!” Natsume’s lower lip juts in a
pout, and he focuses back onto Wataru again, reaching out a hand towards his
back as if he’s about to touch something, then pulls it back again, obviously
annoyed that what he was about to touch isn’t there yet.“Ah…sorry, I thought I
saw…”
Rei’s eyebrows raise, and he folds his arms. “I was hoping,” he says to Wataru
instead, very carefully, “that you would understand why he shouldn’t be placed
into the Academy.”
Wataru stares for another minute, fighting the rising qualm in his heart that
this boy is dangerous, that his loyalty compels him to bring such a prize to
his master at once. Certainly, all of that is true. But this...
He reaches a hand to his own back, and finds nothing, nothing but a sense of
tingling foreboding. He doesn’t need to imagine what Eichi would do with a
prize like this.
He turns to look at Rei, eyes piercing. “Can you teach him? Everything he needs
to know? Gods above, look at him, he’s practically a Nightcloak already--how
amazing~!”
“Of course I can teach him,” Rei scoffs, a dismissive hand waving. “Look at
him, barely a day with me and he already has enough control not to have a
misfire in over twelve hours.”
Koga’s growling starts back up. “He singed my ears earlier!”
Natsume huffs. “That was on purpose.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t’ve had them out,” Rei wearily says.
“I’m not stupid,” Natsume firmly insists, his eyes gleaming eagerly. “Lord Rei
already said I’m doing stuff that took even him a long time to master—you’re a
Nightcloak, too, aren’t you, um…”
“Wataru,” Rei offers. His gaze is wary, watching Wataru closely. “Wataru is the
left hand of the Emperor,” he softly says. “And a very powerful Nightcloak in
his own right.” And hopefully, on the same page as I for the first time in
awhile.
“The cloak doesn’t make one wise, of course,” Wataru says blithely, all of his
attention on Natsume. “In the end, it’s only a bit of cloth! All it means is
that we have abilities as far beyond wizards as normal ones are beyond regular
humans. But we’re as foolish as any man, of course!”
He kneels, turning Natsume’s head this way and that, examining him. “What would
you do with your powers, child? If you were a young god, capable of
anything...what sort of world would you create?”
Natsume lets Wataru turn him to and fro, only swaying a little, and eventually
butts his head into the touch, his cheeks flushing. “I...don’t make fun of me.”
“No one’s going to make fun of you,” Rei assures him, taking a seat and patting
his knee, to which Koga immediately scrambles over to for a proper ear
scritching. 
“...I want to tell fortunes for people. So they don’t make stupid decisions.
So...like the storm that came through a few days ago, I would be able to see it
coming much further in advance...or for my mommy--er, mother, I could help her
a lot more, things like that...she already used to try to do that for people,
but I think I’m better at it now.”
He’s too cute,Rei mouths to Wataru, gaze pleading. Look at him, he’s adorable!
“You could help your mother quite a bit,” Wataru agrees, his own eyes glinting.
“But we don’t train people to be Nightcloaks so they can help their mothers.
Your dreams--let them take flight! Let them expand and soar! Did you ask him,
Rei...perhaps he wants to go to the Academy.” He schools his face into an
expression of contemplation, when truly, his mind is already made up. “You
could learn everything there is to know, and be the most powerful wizard ever
born!”
Natsume scrunches up his nose, leaning back. “But I don’t want to. Lord Rei
told me that I’d have to go to class all day, and that sounds boring. I can
help people other than my mother, but I don’t want to help people that don’t
deserve it. Besides, I don’t need classes for that, when I can already learn
really powerful spells--”
“Let’s not go into what I’ve already taught you, love,” Rei hums, fluttering a
dismissive hand. “Wataru, he could be our pet project instead! An experiment,
perhaps, to see how wizards operate with private tutors outside of the Academy?
Wouldn’t that be exciting?” 
“I do love things that are exciting,” Wataru admits, eyes lighting up. “Ah,
imagine training him up to be Eichi’s foe someday--he’d love that! It would be
like a present!”
“Or,” Rei cheerfully says, “instead of putting him into harm’s way, he can
simply be the one to predict Eichi’s untimely downfall. That sounds like a
game; imagine your Emperor trying to avoid that, a real challenge for a
change.” 
Wataru frowns. “Explain further, this doesn’t make sense to me. Wait, how about
many birds?” A dove, restless, flutters out of his sleeve.
Natsume stares at the bird, watching it flutter aimlessly about now. “That’s so
cool.” He scoots closer to Wataru again, eyes enormous. “How many birds do you
have?” 
“Look at him, Wataru, he’s too cute to be tossed into battle. Show him your
birds.” 
Wataru’s eyes light up. He cups his hands in front of Natsume’s face, then
slowly opens them, letting a tiny robin redbreast flutter onto one fingertip.
“Hold out your hand, child,” he urges. “Rei, are you sure he isn’t your son?
Why are you so determined to keep hm safe?”
Natsume slowly, carefully holds out his hand, squeaking a little when the bird
hops right onto it with a fluff of its feathers. “Where did it come from?” he
breathes, amazed. “Show me, show me.”
Rei exhales a sigh, shaking his head. “He’s not my son. Just...look at him,
he’s...” 
He flutters a hand aimlessly before placing it back onto Koga’s head, petting
him in vague frustration. “I’ve seen prophets before, but never ones that can
see the future right before their eyes in almost...real time. He’s special. The
idea of him being taken to the Academy, subjected to that kind of structure--
I feel as though he’d lose the very power that makes him a Nightcloak.” 
Natsume, gently stroking his fingers down the robin’s back, pauses for a
moment. “If I don’t go to the Academy--does that mean I don’t get a cloak like
yours?” 
For whatever reason, that innocent question makes up Wataru’s mind for good. He
stands, and takes off his own cloak, sweeping it out around Natsume’s narrow
shoulders, letting it billow out over the floor. Underneath, his clothing is so
white it shines, a finely tailored suit that moves with his body, a brilliant
contrast to the muted tones of his hair. “You, our prophet, not be given a
Nightcloak? Absurd, when you are so amazing! No, no, no Academy for you--Rei
and I will train you, and it will be the most amazing surprise!”
Rei sags visibly with relief, but Natsume doesn’t notice, too absorbed in the
fact that he has Wataru’s cloak. He snuggles down into it, beaming and content,
even though it’s much too large. The robin flutters off his hand, plopping down
onto Natsume’s head instead. “I’ll be really good at everything, I promise,”
Natsume insists, but more importantly--”Your hair is so long, how do I get hair
that long?” 
“Maybe we should shrink your cloak a bit so it fits him better,” Rei muses, but
Natsume hisses, ducking down further into the cloak in question.
“No, I want it to stay like this!”
“All right, all right, goodness, don’t spit at me, little cat.” Rei rolls his
eyes, leaning forward to plop his chin in one hand. “I can’t keep him on this
island forever,” he wryly tells Wataru. “But when I bring him back to the
mainland, I’ll be sure to keep him hidden. I just want time to train him first.
I’m amazed you were even allowed to join me here in the first place.” 
“A very high-ranking noble child just bloomed,” Wataru explains airily, waving
a hand. “Eichi had to go take care of it personally, and apparently the little
thing has imprinted upon him like a duckling. So I’m temporarily free, and
could think of no better way to spend the time!” Or, he’d already eaten all of
the sugared nuts in the entire Academy, and none of his usual ‘toys’ had been
enthusiastic about playing with him.
“How does he keep acquiring pets that honestly enjoy his company?” Rei
deadpans, rolling his eyes. “Sorry--if I never return to the Academy, it’ll be
too soon.” 
“But you have to go back, eventually,” Natsume murmurs, urging the bird off of
his head and petting down its back. “If you don’t, you won’t meet him.”
Rei pauses for a moment, then sighs, flopping back with his eyes closed.
“That’s the kind of thing about prophets that makes me want to scream.”
Wataru laughs, throwing back his hair, petting Natsume’s head now that it’s
devoid of bird. “Excellent! Tell Rei more things that surprise him, I love
seeing that look on his face!”
“Umm...” Natsume squints, trying to focus. His eyes flicker from gold to a
strange,  reddish-gold swirl, and he sways a bit, leaning into Wataru’s touch.
“Are there ties that bind wizards? I can see one...” 
“Oh, I don’t fancy being tied down, forget you saw that,” Rei grouses, crossing
his legs at the ankle as he props them up. “Pass, pass. Don’t encourage this,
Wataru, I don’t want to know about myfuture.” 
Wataru laughs merrily again, and the sound of tinkling bells fills the room.
“Amazing! Rei, if you didn’t want this, you shouldn’t have gone off and adopted
a baby prophet! Rei will really be tied down? I love it! The shiftless
wanderer, finding a home in the storm at last!!”
“When he returns to the Academy, he’ll meet the one that he’s bound to,”
Natsume says as if he’s reciting, and slithers his way closer to Wataru,
draping his arms around his neck and clinging to him. 
“See, now I’m just never going back. Ugh, adopting a baby prophet should mean
that I get to know the future of my enemies, not myself. I’m already feeling
stifled.  Is it hot in here?” 
Wataru looks down at the little growth he seems to have acquired, startled more
than he thought he would be. This sort of thing doesn’t happen to him. It
happens to Rei, who is kind, and Eichi, who exudes light, but not to him.
Tentatively, as if he doesn’t quite understand the motion himself, he squeezes
Natsume in a gentle hug. “We...I will keep you safe,” he says quietly. “And
your enemies will never learn of your existence from me.” Not even Eichi.
Natsume buries his face into Wataru’s neck, nodding even though he doesn’t
really hear. 
“Heh.” Rei’s expression is wholly amused, and he rolls to the side, propping
his chin into one hand. “You know, once I saw a hen adopt a kitten and sit on
the fluffy little thing as if it were her own egg. This looks somewhat similar,
somehow.” 
“I look forward to the day that you grow up to become my predator,” Wataru
assures Natsume.
***** Chapter 35 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
It’s not like cornering Tsumugi is difficult. 
The issue, of course, is figuring out what to say that will make him do what
Natsume wants him to do. Tsumugi isn’t like normal people. 
That’s why Natsume has to be...crafty.
Sure, that’s what he’ll call it. Crafty. That’s what it is when it’s early in
the morning, before he’s been roused and dressed for breakfast, and he’s
rolling over in bed to straddle Tsumugi and scowl down at him when he’s dressed
in nothing but lacy night things. 
“Wake up.”
He’ll skip the insults...for now.
Tsumugi starts awake, tense and guarded, eyes full of fear before he sees who
it is. He relaxes, then frowns, taking in the lace scantily covering Natsume’s
form. Abruptly, his entire body notices something his mind has been trying not
to for years--namely, that Natsume isn’t a child, but a young man, still lean
and slight, but with an undeniable maturity in his form. Some parts of Tsumugi
have been trying to notice that for a while, but he’s always been successful in
getting Natsume to scold and scream at him until he’s forgotten. Natsume’s
loathing, in a very real way, is the only thing keeping him behaving properly.
Until now, apparently.
He looks up, eyes full of trepidation. “Natsume,” he says, as gently and non-
threateningly as he can, “your parents should have taught you not to tease men
with your body. Someone might take you seriously, and you could get hurt.”
“Shut up.” Natsume leans forward, the long, red tendrils of his hair dripping
down around Tsumugi’s face. “If you care about me as much as you say you do,”
he quietly says, “you’ll give me what I need.” 
Tsumugi’s breath stutters. His tongue feels like lead. He tries counting, tries
thinking about horrible things, but nothing keeps his body from reacting, even
as his hands clench into fists at his sides. “I care about you...more than I
want to say,” he whispers. Natsume above him is everything he’s never been good
enough for--too beautiful, too young, too powerful--but he can’t stop his
breath from coming faster, and he licks his lips. “I...”
“Then prove it.” Natsume plants a hand next to Tsumugi’s head, staring down at
him with lidded eyes. “Remove the seal Lord Rei put on me.” 
Oh.
Tsumugi’s heart constricts. Disappointment mixes with guilt, mixes with hurt.
Of course it would be something like that. “You have the wrong man,” he says,
the words sounding hollow in his own ears. “Ah, I think I’m too accustomed to
not getting what I want to think...sorry.”
Natsume’s mouth twists. “I know you can do it,” he insists, sitting back
abruptly, and pointedly ignoring how hard Tsumugi is underneath him. “Tsumugi--
I want to be able to help. Aren’t you sick and tired of being useless?” 
Too hard, Tsumugi wants to say, but that’s ill-mannered. “Of course I’m sick of
it, but...ah, maybe I’ve just been useless for too long. It just...feels normal
to me now. Rei sealed you to keep you safe, don’t you want to be safe?”
“I got captured and stuck in a box! That’s not safe! The Academy isn’t safe!”
Natsume’s lower lip trembles. “I want to be able to help--if Rei were here, I’m
sure he’d unseal me. Please, Tsumugi.” I’m asking nicely and not even reminding
you of how useless you are, that should be enough!
Tsumugi stares up at Natsume for a long moment. “I have a condition,” he says
at last.
Natsume lights up. “Fine--fine, whatever it is, I’ll do it,” he immediately
agrees, lurching forward to dig his fingers into the pillow above Tsumugi’s
head. “Please, Tsumugi, I’m begging you!” 
“That you’ll let me protect you.” Tsumugi reaches up, curling his hand around
Natsume’s in a way that he doesn’t usually dare, squeezing it hard. “I know
you’re more powerful that I am. But I’ve studied for long enough--if I tell you
to run and leave me behind, do it. That’s my condition.”
Natsume exhales a huff of breath, but he nods, no matter how the idea annoys
him. “Fine,” he says again. “I’ll listen to you. I...” He exhales slowly,
glancing aside. “I know...that you’re trained in ways that I’m not. I just wish
you’d show it more. It pisses me off.” 
Tsumugi breathes again, though he can’t quite muster the self-control to
release Natsume’s hand. “One area of my training is in concealing my magic,” he
says honestly. “If I don’t use it, I can hide it completely--and then if we
ever need someone to do magic quickly, I can do it without having to break the
seal first. Useless, in other words, because the moment I become not-
useless...well. I can only do it once per enemy, really.”
But why didn’t you do that before, when people were dying? The question is on
the tip of Natsume’s tongue, and he exhales a slow, frustrated breath through
his nose. This is his only chance. He can’t be snappy or mean right now. “I was
only trained for...less than a year, before I came here,” he quietly says. “By
Lord Rei and...and Lord Wataru. But I don’t know anywhere near the amount of
stuff you do, I know that. I do know...that I’m really strong, though, and I
can probably see most of the bad stuff before it even comes.” He huffs, and
tilts his head back. “So take my seal off, and between the two of us, we can be
really useful.” 
“This is probably a bad idea,” Tsumugi mutters, but he reaches up, closing his
eyes, laying a hand on Natsume’s cheek. His seal is strong and well-placed,
invisible to anyone who isn’t looking for it. But one of Tsumugi’s skills is in
being unseen, and seeing the unseeable. Even the heaviest door can be opened
with the right lever, and he focuses his magic, forming it into a wafer-thin
wedge. Then he sucks in a breath, summons his power, and gently pushes it
forward. The seal pops free, then disintegrates, evaporating as if it had never
been.
Tsumugi sighs, and opens worried eyes. “Are you all right? That didn’t hurt,
did it?”
Natsume exhales a long, ragged breath, as if his corset strings have been slit
open out of nowhere and he’s finally able to breathe properly again. It’s been
years since he was sealed, and being free of that makes him feel something akin
to naked. He slinks back a bit, shivering, pushing his hair out of his face as
his skin flushes. “Feels weird,” he murmurs, licking at his lips as he slumps
back. “It’s...it’s been a long time, since that hasn’t been there...” He
shivers again. “I’m cold.” 
Tsumugi feels himself blush. Stop it, he tells himself firmly. He can’t know
how erotic he looks like that. “Here,” he offers instead, grabbing the top
layer of his blankets and tucking it around Natsume’s shoulders.
Natsume shakes his head and lurches down instead, pressing his entire body
against Tsumugi’s, burying his face into his neck. “No. You’re warm.” 
Tsumugi shivers. His arms go helplessly around Natsume, a perverted parody of
the way he’d held him before--no, it’s not perverted, I’m not doing anything!
“Natsume,” he says quietly, trying to calm his thudding heart, “You shouldn’t.
I’m--I’m only human, you know?” he finishes, a little brokenly.
“So be human and warm me up,” Natsume whispers, his face hot as he nuzzles up
underneath Tsumugi’s chin. “Or I’m gonna go back to thinking you’re useless and
missing everything.” 
“I’m not talking about cuddling, I mean--you’re old enough to know that this
kind of behavior isn’t kind,” Tsumugi insists, one hand coming up to press
against Natsume’s back, shivering as he feels the lace. “I know you’re only
dressed like this to get me to do what you want, but someone else might take
you seriously. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Natsume can’t help it. He has to hit him. So he does, a solid whack to
Tsumugi’s chest as he huffs out a hot breath. “You’re so stupid,” he bemoans,
his head tilting back. “I’m not dressed like this to make you do anything, this
is just what I wear to bed. But I’m not talking about cuddling either, you
idiot, because I’m not mad at you right now and I can feel how hard you are. Do
something about it.” 
“Ow,” Tsumugi says belatedly, remembering how much Natume hates it when he
doesn’t react to being hit. “You should be doing this with someone you want,”
he insists, no matter how he twitches and aches at the idea that Natsume wears
this all the time. “Like--Subaru likes you, he’s, he’s your age, you like him,
don’t you?”
“No.” Natsume stares at him, and reaches a hand down, curling his fingers
around the hard, obvious line of Tsumugi’s cock. Well--he tries to keep staring
at him, straight-faced, but his cheeks flush red in short order, and he has to
look away, his hand wavering shyly. “Oh. I--I didn’t know it was that big.” 
Well.
Tsumugi moves faster than even he thought he could, the blanket flying off as
he rolls Natsume onto his back, sealing his lips to Natsume’s in sudden,
frustrated longing, kissing him hard as he presses him down to the bed. His
mouth is dry, but his hands are sure, grabbing Natsume’s hands and pinning them
to the bed. “It isn’t nice to tease,” he says again, but his voice is low and
rough, nothing like his usual cultured speech. 
He plants his knees on the mattress, pressing down against Natsume, letting him
feel just what he’d been playing with. “You used to like me. You used to think
I was cool--Natsume, I was so proud when you looked at me like that,” he
murmurs against that pale cool neck, punctuated with hungry kisses. 
Natsume’s mouth goes dry, and he gulps, trembling as he sinks down into the
mattress. He doesn’t feel cold anymore--the opposite, actually, too hot with
his face almost hurting from the flush that spreads over it, and his fingers
and toes tingling from the sudden, hot rush of arousal. “I...I--” He swallows
hard, his fingers flexing, his thighs shaking before they fall open helplessly.
He doesn’t like that that’s his reaction, but his body seems to think otherwise
when he can feel Tsumugi above him, hard and heavy and unrepentantly hungry.
“I...I l-like you, you’re just...” He bites down around a moan, his eyes
fluttering shut. “If you...if you d-did stuff like this more, maybe...” 
I like you.
 Stupid, that Natsume climbing into his bed in lingerie, begging him
unrepentantly for sex, doesn’t get Tsumugi as much as that one little
admission. He bites down on some of the lovely skin in his mouth, then sucks
and licks the skin gently, soothing away the hurt. “You act like a cute little
kitten,” he says softly, smiling to himself. One of his hands lets go of
Natsume’s wrist, moving to pull his own sleeping clothes apart, then down,
letting the hard length drag over Natsume’s pale thigh. It’s been so long since
he’s done this it feels like the first time, and he has to stop and think of
what happens next. Well, surely he can’t be blamed for using a little bit of
magic.
He mutters a few words, and feels slippery wetness coat his hand, just before
he reaches forward, sliding a finger over Natsume’s tight hole. “Have you...had
a man before?”
Natsume gasps, jerking up, trembling as his freed hand immediately buries
itself into Tsumugi’s hair. He clings there, a whimper caught in his throat,
tension making his legs ache and quiver. “N...nn..no,” he manages to whisper.
For as cold as he’d been before, now he feels like he’s on fire, and he can’t
quite catch his breath. It’s even worse when he feels Tsumugi’s cock rub
against him, and he bites his lip around a groan, his back arching in spite of
his shivering. “I...I’ve touched myself before, b-but...” 
Responsibility asserts itself, and Tsumugi huffs out a sigh into Natsume’s
neck. He rubs against Natsume again, then abandons his questing, moving instead
to wrap one long-fingered hand around both of them, freeing Natsume’s cock from
its lace. “Let’s just...do this, then,” he breathes, starting a slow rhythm,
rocking his hips down, nipping and sucking at his neck. “Ah...you feel so good
like this...”
“Nnnn...not fair,” Natsume groans, his head falling back as he grabs at
Tsumugi’s back, digging his nails in and dragging them down his spine. His cock
twitches hard within Tsumugi’s hold, but he grumpily squirms, trying to kick at
him. “I want...I want you to fuck me,” he whines, breath hiccuping as he says
it. “I’ll be mad if you d-don’t, Tsumugi, please.” He huffs, his head rolling
to the side as he glowers at the wall, embarrassed and turned on--which, it
seems, is a terrible mix. “A...aren’t I supposed to be your wife?” 
“That’s...really unfair,” Tsumugi gasps, releasing his hold on both of them
when it becomes apparent that isn’t what Natsume wants. Of course Natsume would
be the sort to offer him everything he’s ever wanted, but in the most
ridiculous, demanding way possible. Carefully, he edges his hand down again,
then pushes a long finger inside. He closes his eyes, unable to watch Natsume
in pain. “Is that...it’s going to be so much more, are you sure you want me to
keep going?” I deserve a medal--no, a sainthood, how could anyone be expected
to turn this down?--no, no, don’t think like that, I don’t deserve anything for
just doing what’s right!
The noise Natsume makes is anything but pained. He breathes out a long,
whimpering sigh, grabbing at Tsumugi’s arm, panting as he tries to wriggle
down. “It...it’s so much easier...if it’s someone else,” he whispers, licking
at his lips. “I c-can’t...get that deep.” 
Tsumugi’s head falls forward, pressing against Natsume’s chest as he groans.
“If you say things like that,” he warns, hoping he can come across as polite
and instructive while his lips are wrapped around a nipple, “other men are
going to take advantage of you. I’ll go slow, but most men--don’t say things
like that to them...”
He slides in a second finger, making sure to go as deep as possible, tugging at
that nipple with his teeth. “Like that? Have you taken that much before? Ah, I
could die looking at you, I’d be happy...”
Natsume’s mouth falls open, lips trembling. “I...” His tongue decides to pick
now not to work, and he just whines, thighs falling open further as he
helplessly arches down, panting when he clenches around those long fingers and
feels how deep they’re buried inside of him. “N...not...like that...ah...t-
that’s...”
Tsumugi’s mouth on his nipples isn’t gentle, and Natsume feels himself twist
underneath the touch, gulping for air, clinging to whatever part of him that he
thinks himself capable of when his vision blurs. His fingers end up twisted in
Tsumugi’s hair, gripping at his back, and he groans when Tsumugi’s fingers
curl, making his hips buck. “Y...you could take advantage of me,” he rasps.
“I’d...I want...I l-liked it a lot, when you s-shoved me down and acted like
you were...you were gonna do whatever you wanted...” He bites his lip, chest
heaving. “Is it...y-you’ll make it fit, right?” 
“You’re so honest about what you want,” Tsumugi breathes, getting another
finger in, watching Natsume writhe and squirm for a long minute before he makes
up his mind. 
Another spell muttered, and he drags a dripping hand over the thick length of
his cock, enough that it feels like surely too much. Pressing against that
tight hole steals his breath, and he closes his eyes, sucking in air for a
moment before he pauses, looking down at Natsume. One hand comes up, and he
brushes the hair out of Natsume’s face, as tenderly as he’s ever done
anything. 
But the sweet words he wants to say don’t come. They never do, when Natsume can
see him, can mock him. So instead, he just smiles, and pushes in.
Natsume squeaks, trembles, his hands gripping tightly at Tsumugi’s back as he
tries to remember how to breathe. It’s so much more than he thought it would
be--not that he’s never seen Tsumugi naked before, but never hard, never like
this, and the hard, stretching ache of it makes the breath leave his lungs. 
“I...” 
His chest heaves. His thighs shake before they just splay apart, the way
Tsumugi’s cock spreads him open leaving him limp and pliant, overheated and
overstimulated all the way down to his toes. Natsume tries moving, then gives
up with a mewl, his eyes fluttering as his cock throbs between his own legs,
somewhere between too-hard to even process what’s stuffing him full and on the
verge of already giving up and spilling. “Ts...Tsumugi, i-it’s...” 
For once, Tsumugi isn’t listening.
He groans. He aches. He thrusts, faster and faster when the sweet heat of
Natsume’s body is better than anything he’s ever felt. He shoves in hard, not
thinking of anything beyond how good it feels, how much of a relief it is to
finally have friction on the part of him that throbs with every move Natsume
makes, tormenting him for years. 
It’s something akin to animalistic fervor--he hears Natsume’s urgent squeaks,
but it doesn’t register as anything but good, anything but the noises of
someone he’s claiming. His hips only snap in harder, desperate to be buried in
that tight warmth sucking him in. For once, even heis allowed to feel good, and
nothing has ever felt like this. If Natsume is tense, that only makes him
tighter, and Tsumugi slams in so deeply that he hears their hips slap together,
a slick noise that just makes his cock swell more.
The noises from Natsume’s throat quickly reduce to nothing more but whimpers
and little, breathy squeaks. This is the stuff of his fantasies--he could
never, ever tell Tsumugi that...or maybe he already did? He can’t remember. His
mind is clouded, hazy and reminding him of nothing but the tight, aching
squeeze of his own body around Tsumugi’s huge cock, which shoves into him again
and again, relentless, merciless, everything he wants. 
His voice breaks when he feels himself come, slick and messy all over his own
stomach. His nails weakly rake down Tsumugi’s back, his toes curling so hard
that he feels his legs cramp and spasm as Natsume gasps, struggling for a full
breath when it won’t come, and Tsumugi’s so hard inside of him that he can’t
think. 
One more rough thrust, and Tsumugi loses it, spilling deep inside Natsume, so
deep it almost feels as if he’s hit a wall, groaning deep against Natsume’s
shoulder. His hips tremble, twitching forward a few more times, fucking his
release in deep before he collapses, cheek pressed against Natsume’s chest. 
Sweat drips down his back. He breathes in and out. At some point, his cock
softens, and grows so suddenly sensitive that he has to pull out with a wince.
That makes him pull back, touching Natsume’s cheek with one hand. He means to
say something gentle, reassuring, supportive, caring, but what comes out is,
“You’re a real woman now, I suppose.”
Natsume groans, feeling his cock give another, shameless lurch at that, and he
half-heartedly slaps at Tsumugi’s shoulder. “Mean,” he whimpers, feeling the
way his body twinges in some particular, unusual ways, and more than that,
feels the way he’s dripping, now that he’s so uncomfortably empty. “Y...you
came too much, everything’s dripping.” 
Tsumugi yawns, entirely unperturbed by Natsume’s scolding for once. “You asked
for this,” he says, unconcerned as he stretches out. Then he reaches down, and
thumbs over the sore hole, letting out a rumbling, pleased little sound. “It
sounded like you enjoyed yourself. Feels like it, too, my stomach is all wet.”
Natsume squirms with a breathy, mewling sound, but he doesn’t pull away, and
instead, buries himself up against Tsumugi’s chest, huffing out an embarrassed
breath. “Put it back in,” he mumbles. “I like the way it fits there.” 
“Hold on,” Tsumugi murmurs, reaching down to grab his cock, giving it a few
strokes. “Need to get it hard again--keep making that cute noise, that’ll
happen fast.” Idly, he reaches up, tweaking a nipple. “You really liked it that
much?”
“Obviously.”Natsume nuzzles up underneath his chin, his breath hiccuping when
Tsumugi pulls on his nipples again, and another one of those high, whimpering
sounds leaves his throat. “I’ve wanted you to do it for awhile,” he huffs,
pushing the heavy fall of his hair back over his shoulder with a trembling
hand. “You just...you didn’t get it. I thought maybe you didn’t think I was
pretty, or...” 
“Or maybe I didn’t think that a lovely, powerful, talented, beautiful person
like you would ever want someone useless like me,” Tsumugi says softly, turning
his head to press a kiss to Natsume’s cheek. “Also, you’re too young for me,
far too young.”
“Age doesn’t matter with wizards,” Natsume crossly says, lacing his arms around
Tsumugi’s neck. “Lord Rei says so. Nnn, play with me, everything feels all nice
and tingly and...and more, now that I’m not sealed, it’s good.” 
Age doesn’t matter with wizards? “What has Rei been doing?” Tsumugi mutters to
himself, but ah, he can’t resist the temptation to do as Natsume asks. He slips
his hand down again, and slides in a finger, marveling at how slick it is
inside. “I can do this part pretty well,” he assures Natsume, and starts
working two of them in, curling and stroking at an angle he remembers so well,
claiming Natsume’s lips in another kiss. 
Natsume exhales a pleased, content noise, and arches up when Tsumugi’s fingers
curl just right, over that textured little spot that he has so much trouble
reaching himself. His own cock twitches eagerly, and he whimpers as he ruts
forward, rubbing his cock against Tsumugi’s hip. “Dunno, don’t care,” he
breathes. “But Rei’s like...nnn...100 something? And Lord Shu’s younger than
you, so~...” 
“So he’s old enough to know better,” Tsumugi says with a little laugh. Then he
presses another kiss to Natsume’s cheek, and shifts downward, curling his
fingers again as he leans in. His tongue swipes over the head of Natsume’s
cock, and he moans softly, wishing he had his spectacles to see better. He’s
always imagined Natsume to taste sweet, somehow, but that’s false, and he’s as
bitter and salty as any man. Tsumugi finds he doesn’t mind, swirling his tongue
around the head, delving eagerly as he cleans off the rest of his come, lapping
at the tip for more.
Natsume’s whimpering turns quickly to strangled, squeaky little moans, and he
clamps a hand over his mouth, his thighs trembling when Tsumugi’s tongue drags
over him, flat and wet and hot. “T...that...I...d-don’t care if I’m younger
than you,” he groans, his head tilting back. “F-fuck, that feels good. Nnn...I
l-like it when everyone comments on...on me being too young to be your wife, I
don’t know why, I just...” 
Tsumugi pulls off with a wet slurping noise, licking gently at the shaft,
letting the tip rest against his cheek. “You like it when people can see you’re
too good for me?” he asks, with a little smile. “For the record, I agree.”
“No, I--” Natsume huffs, pulling on Tsumugi’s hair weakly. “Not that. I...” He
swallows, his gaze flicking to the side. “Makes me feel like you...you really
did buy me, or something,” he mumbles. “Like all the rumors say.” 
“I couldn’t do that.” 
Tsumugi wraps a few fingers around the base of Natsume’s cock, lapping
thirstily over and over, then taking it into his mouth, sucking hard, head
bobbing a few times. Then he pulls off, and murmurs, “Because you’re priceless
to me, Natsume. I...I just want to be some use to you, you can use me however
you like...” He’d have to be blind emotionally as well as without his
spectacles not to know that that’s what earlier had been, with Natsume wanting
someone in him, riling him to the point of madness with that in mind. 
Natsume groans, slumping backwards, his fingers twisting and pulling in
Tsumugi’s hair. His cock twitches, dripping over Tsumugi’s lips, and he
whimpers, his eyes briefly squeezing shut. “Turn me over,” he pants out, “and
put it in me, then. I want--I like it when you push me around, it’s good, it
makes me feel good, please don’t make me beg agaiiinnn...” 
“You don’t need to beg,” Tsumugi says softly, and pulls back, grabbing Natsume
by the hips and flipping him fast, letting him land hard on his stomach. He
doesn’t say the rest of the thoughts going through his head--you don’t really
want to be sold, you don’t want to know that your parents need money more than
they love you, you don’t want to be reduced to what someone will pay for you--
and focuses instead on kissing Natsume’s shoulders. “Which is it you want?” he
asks, guiding himself to press against that hole again. It’s wet and sloppy
now, but if anything, that just makes Tsumugi a little harder. He isn’t fully
erect yet, but close enough, and Natsume might kill him if he takes any longer.
“You want cruelty? Or just roughness? I love you too much to be really
cruel...”
“I…” Natsume gulps, his face hot against the sheets when he buries it down into
them, his hair pooling around his head, sticking to his back and tangling up
into the lace that still sweatily clings to him. “I…it’s not even…I just…I want
you…I want you to t-take what you want.” His cock twitches with the admission,
and he huffs, feeling how his hole twitches when Tsumugi rubs against it, the
stinging ache making his breath catch. “I…like it when you feel good, without
t-thinking about me,” he whispers. “So when you shoved me down like that
before…”
“But...how could I ever not think about you?” Tsumugi whispers, trying to wrap
his mind around how anyone, anyone, would be thinking of anything other than
Natsume at any time. But...
But it’s what he wants.
 Tsumugi doesn’t understand it, but maybe he doesn’t need to. All he needs is
to give Natsume what he wants. That’s easy enough. He ruts forward, rubbing
over that dripping hole, reaching down to snap one of the straps against
Natsume’s skin. “Spread your legs farther. I want full access to inside of
you.” With no more warning than that, he grabs Natsume’s thigh, positioning it
where he wants it, and moves again, thrusting forward in one swift thrust,
bottoming out before he takes a single breath.
Natsume moans, his back arching even when he wants to sag down into the bed,
his entire body trembling and tensing when Tsumugi finally sinks back into him
again. He’s inso deep that Natsume forgets how to breathe for a moment, gasping
into the sheets as his knees wobble, and he slinks further down—ass in the air,
face to the bed, and his chest heaving as his cock already decides that it’s
almost time to come. His nails flex into the bed, mindlessly curling there as
he tries to wriggle back. “I..it’s really…really big…” he groans, rubbing his
cheek down into the bed. “T…tsumugi, you…”
It feels a little like he’s getting credit for something that he has no control
over. It isn’t as if he’d put any effort into having a large one, after all.
But that doesn’t matter much, when he can just shove Natsume into the bed,
hearing him whine and squeal and... “It’s like you’re mewling,” he marvels,
hands firm on Natsume’s hips. “Like a little kitty.”
He starts thrusting harder, thighs flexing to send him in deep, breath coming
fast as he squeezes harder. “A little kitty in heat,” he clarifies. “You know--
most virgins don’t like something so large? You must--truly be a cat in heat,
then...”
“I…” Hearing that is embarrassing, but it’s not like he can stop making those
noises, not when Tsumugi is fucking into him like that. It aches.Every muscle
feels sore, and his body squeezes down around Tsumugi on its own accord, making
Natsume moan and arch even when he wishes he could just lie down and enjoy it.
“Nn…I…it’s…t-that’s your fault,” he finally manages to blurt out, feeling the
droplets of sweat that drip down his spine when he squirms and claws into the
bed. “N…no one said it would feel—hhhhnn…s-so…good…ah!”
Tsumugi shoves in so deep that Natsume swears he can taste it, and he pants
raggedly for a moment, his eyes crossing, his cock just constantly leaking.
“There,” he gasps out, his voice high and breathless. “T-that…gods…”
“Most boys,” Tsumugi manages to say, sitting back on his heels and dragging
Natsume’s ass back, letting him get in even deeper with each thrust, “don’t
like so much in them. Ahh...and they think it feels good...when there’s less.
But you...must really be a kitty in heat, hmm?”
The words make him blush, but at least Natsume can’t see him. That’s what makes
him able to keep going, whispering into the blurry night.
Natsume nods mindlessly, his sweaty hair tumbling down into his face as he
wriggles back, following the pull of Tsumugi’s hands. “Y-yes,” he whispers,
panting open-mouthed when Tsumugi thrusts into him. “I…I wanna be your kitty.”
Gods, but his face burns. That almost makes it better, being so embarrassed
about how much he enjoys it. “N-not a boy, I’m your—your wife, your cat,
please, it feels so good…”
My wife.
 They’ve said it for years, of course, but it’s always felt silly, like they’re
enacting a play that no one would really believe. But now... “I’m going to take
you around tomorrow on my arm,” he breathes, closing his eyes and imagining it.
“And pull you onto my lap, in front of all the fine nobles--and you’ll squirm
and blush, because you’re sore, and all the men will laugh, because they’ll
know why you’re sore, because a pretty little girl only gets like that one way,
when her old man husband has such a smile, right?”
Natsume dissolves. The sob that pulls from his throat is broken and
overstimulated, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath with every
throb of his cock as he spills all over the bed, trembling and shivering with
every single word. “I…I always d-dress up for you, b-because I wanted you to do
that,” he whimpers, his tongue flicking out to try and catch the embarrassing
little trail of drool that drips from his mouth. “P-please…I want…I want e-
everyone to know…”
Tsumugi smiles to himself, pulling Natsume back harder, pressing a kiss to the
side of his neck. He doesn’t stop when Natsume comes, only grinding in deeper,
leaning up to murmur, “You’re so beautiful, that makes it better, doesn’t it? A
sort of cute girl, that’s one thing, maybe I like her for her personality--but
they all think they know that I bought you for your looks, right?”
He slams in deep, holding it there for a long moment, groaning as Natsume
shivers and clenches around him. “Little do they know--that secretly--the wife
that could do so much better--adores it, doesn’t she? My pretty--kitty--in
heat--”
It hurts. It hurts, and that makes his cock seriously consider that it’s time
to go again, which is both exhilarating and far too much all at once. Natsume
just nods, unable to form words for a moment, floundering for purchase and
balance when he’s pulled back so roughly that he has no choice but to try and
push himself up onto his hands, biting his lip as Tsumugi shoves into him so
hard and deep that his vision blurs. “I…I want them to be jealous,” he pants
out. “Of you. Of…of what you…get to do to me…” His voice falters again,
breaking to a mewling sound that he can’t bite back when he shudders from head
to toe. 
“You want--everyone to want you like this.”
That much, Tsumugi can sort of understand. His hands slide down, then up,
caressing every part of Natsume he can reach, lingering again on his sore
nipples, teasing and rolling them between thumbs and fingers. “Anyone in
particular? Maybe...Sergeant Donolan, that always bows too low to the lady of
the house? He probably wants to touch you right here...but I’m the only one
that gets to. Or Karon, the baker, he probably wants to be in you like this,
ever since you read his palms he’s always trying to touch you...anyone else?”
Natsume’s head shakes back and forth, his breath hiccuping when Tsumugi’s
fingers keep toying with his nipples, making them hard no matter how sore they
are, throbbing with every pull. “D-don’t make say,” he whispers, his voice
threatening to break again when little, lingering shivers race though him, and
make him squeeze down onto Tsumugi’s still very hard, very large cock. “’s
embarrassing.”
“I won’t stop until you do,” Tsumugi says, getting a little of his own teasing
back now, pulling Natsume back by his nipples. “Ahh...that’s the thing about
being old, pretty kitty...the second time...I can go a long time...” He pinches
hard, tugging on Natsume’s nipples, even as he grinds in harder.
At that, Natsume just moans, tears springing to his eyes when the tug on his
nipples threatens to go straight to his cock every single time. “I-it’s so big,
that’s not fair,” he groans, sagging back into the touch all the same, doing
nothing to avoid it or twist away. “I wanna sit up in your lap, help me,” he
begs, trying to push himself up and failing with trembling arms. “T…then
maybe…I’ll tell you.”
Natsume’s moods appear to swing wildly between wanting things his way and
wanting to be pushed around and taken advantage of, and Tsumugi gets mental
whiplash. Still, his urge to take care of Natsume, to give him everything he
wants, is strong, and he pulls out, lifting Natsume and turning him, helping
him sit on his lap. “Put it back in yourself,” he urges, cock twitching with
how hard it is, how eager to be back inside that hot, tight hole where it feels
like he belongs. “Then tell me who it is you want to stare at you when you
squirm.”
Natsume bites his lip, but he nods, clinging to Tsumugi with an arm shakily
thrown about his shoulders. Tsumugi’s cock feels even bigger in his fingers,
somehow, and it takes Natsume’s breath away when he pulls it back to his hole,
wincing at how it feels to sink back down onto it when he’s already so slick,
so used. He squeaks when his knees give out, and he slides down too-fast,
suddenly full and trembling on Tsumugi’s lap. It feels like it’s even deeper in
him this way, and Natsume flops into his chest, huffing out a breath.
“C…Captain Subaru,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. “He’s…he’s so
annoying, but I…”
I knew it, Tsumugi thinks with a little smile, his arms going around Natsume to
hold him close, sighing as he sinks down again. “He’d...love the way you feel
inside,” he assures Natsume. “I should...tell him so, don’t you think? That you
make such pretty faces when you’re full...”
He goes out on a limb, not sure if he’s right, but there’s a suspicion-- “I
wonder if Wataru and Rei would like to hear, too?”
His cock gives a little twitch where it presses against Tsumugi’s stomach, and
Natsume’s face flushes nearly as red as his hair. “Don’t—don’t tell them,” he
whispers, horrified at how he squirms at the idea, and so he buries his face
into Tsumugi’s shoulder, biting own on a groan as he shifts in Tsumugi’s lap.
“They can’t know, that’s…”
“Embarrassing,” Tsumugi finishes for him, then gasps. “Ahh, you got--so tight
when I said that, Natsume...”
His hand reaches down, finger tracing the tight ring of Natsume’s hole where
it’s stretched obscenely far around him. “What would they say, if they could
see you now? Hmm?”
Natsume jerks at the touch, whining when his body decides it’s a great idea to
tighten up even more, trembling and tense when Tsumugi touches him there.
“Th…they’d…I don’t…” His nails bite into Tsumugi’s shoulders, clinging
helplessly to him. “Maybe…t-they’d scold me, for being like this,” he groans.
“I can’t help it, I’m so horny all the tiiiime, ’s your fault…”
“You want to be scolded?” Of course he does, Tsumugi thinks helplessly,
shifting to better bounce Natsume on his lap, up and down over and over, his
lungs tightening as he moves faster and faster. Of course he wants to be
scolded--Natsume wants the opposite of everything Tsumugi wants for himself--to
be embarrassed, to be bossed around, to be taken advantage of, to be scolded,
to be exposed. Well, building on that-- “You want them to know you’re a
perverted little kitty, right?” he asks, hoping he’s right. “Perhaps your
husband should make you...wear a very short skirt tomorrow, and they can see
how well you’ve been used, hmm?”
Natsume nods mindlessly, unable to even help grind himself onto Tsumugi’s cock
anymore when his legs are so boneless and every aching, sore nerve in his body
is shaking. “I’m…I’m your wife, I’m your kitty, you can make me do whatever you
want,” he whimpers, his breath hot against Tsumugi’s neck. “I want you to feel
good, please, Tsumugi, please…”
Tsumugi’s muscles are weary and aching, and he groans helplessly, burying his
face in Natsume’s hair, kissing his temple as his hips slap up against
Natsume’s ass. “Is it too much? I can stop and finish another way, you
just...it feels like heaven inside you...”
Natsume’s head shakes, his fingers flexing into Tsumugi’s back. “It’s fine,” he
whispers, even as he limply sags into Tsumugi’s chest. “I don’t…I don’t think I
can come again, b-but I want you to, you can fill me up and I’ll go back to
sleep like that. Maybe..maybe you’ll make an heir finally…”
Tsumugi had thought he was nowhere near coming again, but that last broken plea
from Natsume changes everything. He groans, and buries himself in deep,
pleasure crashing over him in a wave so intense it feels like relief, leaving
him shaking and exhausted, and completely sated. His hand moves to trace over
Natsume’s belly, then gently lifts him off and down onto his back, laying down
next to him as he flops over. “Are you full enough?” he asks, his own limbs
twitching and trembling, feeling wrung out.
Natsume clenches down, trying to stop all of that mess from escaping out of
him, but there’s no helping it when it feels like he’s been spread open for so
long that he can barely even close his legs. He feels himself blushing,
flustered over how his body isn’t quite listening to him the way he’d like, and
he shifts uncomfortably, rolling over to bury his face down into a pillow.
“Feels weird,” he moans instead, the fantasy not wholly conforming to reality
this time. “I take it back, I don’t want to get pregnant.”
Tsumugi’s mouth quivers as he tries not to laugh, pulling Natsume close. He
reaches over and grabs the discarded blanket from earlier, tugging it over
Natsume. “When I can walk again, I’ll ring for the servants to draw you a
bath,” he promises, yawning hugely. “Don’t worry, I don’t need you to give me a
baby.”
“Good, I’ll die.” Natsume sniffs, huddling close to Tsumugi, burying himself
underneath the blanket in a mess of sweaty hair and trembling limbs. “I might
die anyway. It felt so g-good when you were doing it, but now it huuurts…”
Guilt twinges in Tsumugi’s gut again, and he grimaces, petting Natsume’s hair,
holding him close. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to hurt you...hold on, I still
know a little...”
He takes a deep breath, fumbling for a spell, and whispers the arcane words,
dragging a fingertip down Natsume’s spine, leaving a trail of numbness in his
wake. His fingertip circles around the rim of Natsume’s hole, numbing the sore
skin. “I can’t do it like Shu, but I can do this much. Does it really hurt
anywhere else?”
Natsume shakes his head, butting it against Tsumugi’s chest with a content,
rumbling exhale of breath when some of the stinging and achiness subsides. “N-
no, that’s good,” he whispers, sighing out a soft little breath. “Thank you.
Nnhh…I don’t want to get up and get dressed, I want to skip breakfast, stay in
bed with me all day…”
Tsumugi smiles gently, tucking Natsume against his chest, trying to make it
look as if that kind of deliberate magic didn’t make him feel more drained than
all the sex had. “I’m not sure if you want to hear this, but since it was your
first time, I want you to know that you were very, very good at that.”
“Of course I was, I’m perfect.” For all his preening, though, the words make
him relax, the last bit of his nerves filtering away as he cuddles up into
Tsumugi’s arms. “Everything has different colors, now that the seal is gone,”
he says suddenly, squinting into Tsumugi’s chest. “It’s been there for so
long…I almost forgot what it felt like to sense magic…”
“Ah, you see it? I’ve always been interested in how other wizards sense magic.
Shu and Rei hear it like music, you know, and Mika sees people as hourglasses,
isn’t that fascinating?”
“Mm. I see it…but it’s not always accurate. Sometimes, I see what’s there, but
sometimes, I see what’sgoing to be there. It’s hard to tell it apart, at
times.” Natsume closes his eyes, and presses his face into Tsumugi’s shoulder.
“I saw Wataru’s wings before he even had them,” he murmurs. “But now they’re
gone again. I don’t really like that. I don’t like…any of this.”
“It’s difficult, I know. I’m sorry.” Tsumugi grimaces. “The adults really
should have dealt with a lot of this before now, I’m sure. But isn’t it good
that you’re feeling things? Doesn’t that prove you’re still alive, and that we
can still make a difference?”
“I always feel things,” Natsume crossly says. “You’re the one that gets weird.
More important is how I don’t have a seal now, so I can go and help. I’m adult
enough.” He jabs Tsumugi’s hip with one finger. “You said I’m a woman now,
that’s close enough.”
“I already said it was fine, just that you have to let me keep you safe.”
Tsumugi strokes Natsume’s hair, then belatedly remembers the poke. “Oh, sorry.
Ow.”
Natsume rolls his eyes, smacking him again for good measure. “Just don’t forget
that,” he grumpily says. “Or I’ll get really mad and you don’t get to put it in
again.”
“Sorry, sorry. Ow!” Tsumugi thinks for a moment, then muses, “I sort of miss
that one. Texture, I mean--that’s mine, I sort of see energies in textures. Is
yours colors?”
“Kind of.” Natsume stares up at him curiously, his head cocking. “You never
explained anything about why you’re so weird to me,” he complains. “Can you not
feel things properly because of your magic?” He pauses, and looks down at his
hands, then peers over at Tsumugi’s back. “I think your back is a little
bloody, by the way…sorry…?”
“Oh, is it?” Tsumugi doesn’t even move, uncaring. He forces a smile, but
Natsume has been forthcoming, so... “I was fairly old when I bloomed. Didn’t
really understand my powers. Most kids who bloom wind up doing at least one
deliberate thing before they’re found, because it’s hard to pinpoint the really
chaotic ones.” Tsumugi shrugs. “Mine was to block my own ability to feel pain,
apparently. By the time they found me, I’d done it so thoroughly that they
weren’t quite sure how to fix it. They still aren’t.”
“…I guess…that’s not so bad of a thing…” Natsume hedges, frowning. “Even though
it’s really weird. But I guess it can be useful, in some circumstances, if you
aren’t stupid about it. I just don’t trust you to be smart about it. Turn
around, take your shirt off, you don’t need to bleed all over everything.”
Tsumugi does as he’s told, carefully sitting up so he can fold the shirt. “It’s
been a long time. I don’t really remember what it was like, honestly. Just that
it was a relief at the time.” He sets it aside, then folds his hands, looking
down. “It’s...easier to be honest in the dark, isn’t it? What was blooming like
for you? I imagine it’s a lot more impressive as a Nightcloak.”
With some effort, Natsume forces himself to sit up, looking around for
something to wipe Tsumugi’s back off with and comes up empty, except for
options that require standing and walking. Neither of those sound appealing,
and the scratches don’t look too terrible, at least. “…I didn’t even realize I
did anything,” he softly says, pulling his long hair over his shoulder to twist
it around into a thick braid, needing the sweaty mess of it off of his back if
nothing else. “But Lord Rei says I made a huge hurricane appear off the coast,
and it hit the main island, Redwater. Decimated it. Sailors tried to warn
everyone, because they saw it coming, but…” He shrugs, staring down at the bed.
“Maybe that’s why I can see things before they happen now, so I can warn people
properly.”
“That’s awful,” Tsumugi says, and gently bats Natsume’s hands out of the way,
finger-combing that long hair himself, then starting to braid by feel. He can
see it enough with his magic for this, anyway. “To have to live with something
like that...it wasn’t your fault, you know. At the Academy, they teach all
about that. I used to be a teacher there for a while, you know.”
Natsume sits still while Tsumugi’s hands work, his own eyes lidded, glinting in
the dim light as sure as any cat’s. “The Academy sounds…scary,” he quietly
says. “After Lord Rei found me…he hid me. There aren’t any sniffers in the
Isles, I’m the only wizard to have bloomed there, as far as anyone knows. I
mean, you probably already know that, but…” He nibbles at his lower lip. “He
was so adamant about me not going there. He called Wataru, begged him not to
tell the Emperor about me. I…I didn’t understand why. Not until recently.”
“It...isn’t a place I would want to see someone like you,” Tsumugi admits,
fingers working carefully and methodically, layering one strand over another.
“Because you’re a clever, creative, powerful wizard. But to be honest, I
wouldn’t have done what Rei did, either. You never had a chance to grow and
learn about your power. Ah, I know he had his reasons, I’m not saying he was
wrong, but...”
“Wataru agreed, too, and he’s so smart, and sostrong, and so cool.” Natsume
pouts, peering up at Tsumugi. “They taught me for almost a year before shipping
me off here. Then Lord Rei had to go to the Academy because I told him so.”
“But you’ve been locked down,” Tsumugi explains. “There’s only so much that
theory can teach a Nightcloak, so I understand why they didn’t think it was
important for you to learn while you were sealed, but...” He shrugs. “It could
be dangerous. The Academy has a lot of bad practices, that’s part of why I
left, but all of us teachers were doing our best to help young wizards learn to
use their powers.”
“So you teach me, then, now that I’m unsealed, if you used to be such a good
teacher.” Natsume’s eyes flicker, reflecting gold. “I have to figure out how to
fix Wataru’s wings, for example—before the Emperor does, so he comes back to
us, and doesn’t stay with him anymore.”
“That won’t happen. He loves you, and I’m sure he loves those wings...but he
has a resonant bond with Eichi. You know how powerful those are, don’t you?”
“Yes. And they sound annoying.”
Tsumugi smiles, and finishes the braid with a careful triple-loop of hair,
binding it in place. “Annoying, but powerful. Which is what I think a lot of
people would say about your powers, don’t you think?”
“Lord Rei doesn’t like when I have prophecies about him,” Natsume airily says.
“I think that’s why he sealed me up, more than anything; he didn’t want me to
see anything else about him. Nnn, resonant bonds don’t even make good sense,
though. What if you don’t really love the person you’re bonded with? Or is that
a prerequisite? Doesn’t seem fair.”
“From what I’ve heard, it isn’t. Shu and Rei formed one the first day they
met.” Tsumugi shivers. “It sounds very frightening to me. I’d hate it if
someone was forced to depend on me. I always seem to let people down, and then
they couldn’t even leave me...”
“Are…are people stuck together, even if they aren’t in love, or even if they
disliked each other?” Natsume asks, horrified. “That doesn’t seem right. Lord
Rei kept avoiding the subject, but when he finally went to the Academy and came
back, he seemed so happy.”
“I think it might be like birth? Where, you don’t know this baby, but your body
and soul tell you that you shouldn’t throw this particular troublesome human in
the ocean?” Tsumugi spreads his hands. “I’m not really sure. But I do know that
I’ve never met anyone with a resonant bond that seemed unhappy, so...perhaps
it’s close. Or perhaps they really do only affect people and the person they
will truly find happiness with.”
“Too weird,” Natsume complains, blowing a strand of his bangs out of his face
with a huff. “I don’t like it. If I get a vision about you having to go off to
the Academy to find the one you resonate with, I’m not telling you about it.”
“Eh? You want me to be miserable?”
“No. You’re just not allowed to leave.”
Warmth flutters in Tsumugi’s heart. “If it means anything to you,” he offers,
“I’d rather stay here with you than make a resonant bond with someone else any
day. Every day. For the rest of my life.”
“Good.” Natsume’s lower lip wobbles, and he bites it to make that stop
immediately. “You better mean that. Now go get me Sora, I want a bath and I
don’t want to look embarrassing in front of all of these soldiers that keep
coming through.”
Tsumugi leans over and presses a kiss to Natsume’s cheek. “As Milady wishes.”
***** Chapter 36 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
It’s not until much later that day that Natsume finally emerges, clean and
perfectly dressed as always, if not...bruised, in a few odd places. 
His neck is the unsightly part that’s difficult to hide, courtesy of High
Harbor fashions, and careful arrangement of his hair does...well, it does very
little. Natsume huffs about it for a bit, but finally forces himself out, brow
furrowed in irritation, daring anyone to speak on it. 
Which brings him to the next task on his list: knocking on Shu’s door warily. 
Now unsealed, it’s unnerving to feel the low-key, but constant rumble of power
behind that door. Natsume shifts nervously, eyes trying to unfocus underneath
the pressure of it. Maybe asking for that was...an untimely request. 
“One moment!”
There’s a shuffling from inside, then the door opens, revealing Shu looking a
bit rumpled from sleep, tugging his nightcloak over a long ruffled nightgown.
His eyes are wild as he looks Natsume up and down, then ushers him feverishly
inside. “What have you done? Come in, I’ll put it back on immediately.”
“No--no, that’s not why I’m here,” Natsume immediately protests, taking a
hurried step back, hands held up defensively. “I...I wanted it off. I want to
be able to help. Please don’t put it back, Lord Shu, I’ll--” He swallows. “I’ll
just ask Tsumugi to take it off again.” 
Shu folds his arms, lips pursed. “You’re making a mistake. A foolish one. You
don’t have the training of a Nightcloak, no matter what your power is. But come
inside, I won’t bind you if you don’t want to be bound.”
“Lord Rei and Wataru trained me personally for a year,” Natsume huffily
replies, smoothing his skirts before he steps inside. “I’m not helpless. And
more than that,  I thought...now might be a good time for everyone to have
access to my power when the Emperor doesn’t.” 
Shu waves a hand. “Perhaps. I’m not the strategist.” He shuts the door, locking
it out of habit as he turns to survey Natsume critically with his eyes, rather
than his magical senses. “You’re a mess, child.”
Natsume’s face flushes, and he gingerly takes a seat, trying not to wince or
wobble when he does. “...May I be frank?” he says, trying not to whimper when
he settles down. “I didn’t expect the aftermath of sex to be so
uncomfortable.” 
Shu’s fingers glitter with violet fire. “Where does it hurt? I can numb it, or
call Izumi to fix it entirely. If you’re in that much pain, he likely wasn’t
doing it right. No one should be that rough with you.”
“No, no, he did it right, I...I asked him to be that rough.” Natsume winces.
“Which was fun at the time, but now...ah...I’ll be fine, please don’t call
Izumi, that would be too embarrassing. Actually, I...was wondering.” He shifts,
glancing down at his lap. “If you could make me something, um, even sexier? He
really likes what I wear normally, but I don’t want it to get ruined, so...” 
“What, you want him to turn you black and blue next time?” Shu clicks his
tongue, pulling out a sheet of drafting paper, starting to sketch out a few
designs. “If you’re relying on clothing to get him interested in you, he’s not
good enough for you. And just because he’s an exuberant sort doesn’t mean he
should get out of being a tender lover--I’ll have some words with him, next
time I see him hanging around in the stables.”
“I didn’t even know he liked my underthings that much,” Natsume protests with a
sniff, fiddling with a ruffle on his dress. “He’s really not that exuberant,
you don’t have to say anything to him. It took a lot of pushing to make him be
like this, he’s the one that wanted to be really careful, I just...” He groans,
burying his flushed face into his hands. “I couldn’t wait anymore, we could
have died when the Emperor captured us, and we’re supposed to be married, how
is that supposed to be real if we haven’t even done it?”
“Wait, wait. This was Tsumugi?”
“I...yes? Why do you sound so surprised?” 
“I assumed you were talking about that boy with the orange hair, of course.”
Shu scribbles out his entire drawing, starting again from scratch with a
different partner in mind. “I also wouldn’t have thought Tsumugi capable of
this sort of thing. In any way.”
Natsume’s mouth falls open. “I...Subaru, no, he’s--he’s too annoying, and
obsessed with that stableboy, besides!” He shifts uncomfortably again, huffing
primly. “Tsumugi is more than capable. He’s...” His blush darkens. “He’s very
aggressive when he wants to be.”
“Sounds incorrect, but to each his own,” Shu mutters under his breath.
“Just...lie down on your stomach on the bed, it hurts me to look at you. For
heaven’s sake, you’re bowlegged.”
Natsume carefully, painstakingly hauls himself up, dragging himself to the bed
only to collapse again with a grateful noise. “He,” he says, his face buried
into one of Shu’s fluffy pillows, “is very large. I didn’t...anticipate that.
Or how much it would hurt later...” 
A tinge of envy nags at Shu. It looks nice, to feel so destroyed by the act of
lovemaking. He wants to send out a thought to Rei, but it’s day, and he’ll be
asleep if he can. Ah, well. He’s waited this long, he can keep waiting (while
everyone he knows, everyone younger than he, gets what they want). Lips pursed,
he turns back to his sketching. “Make certain you’re being firm with him.
Hitting him won’t work if he does something you don’t like, he doesn’t feel
things like a normal human. He was one of my teachers at the Academy, did I
ever tell you that?”
“No, but he told me.” Natsume grabs at the pillow, hugging it as he twists
partially onto his side. “He’s...much more skilled than he lets on, and that
annoys me,” he grouses. “I used to think he was so cool, for standing up
against the Academy, but then he just kept acting...the way he acts, and I
couldn’t help but think he was annoying. I think that’s fair.” 
“I used to hate him,” Shu admits. “He was at the Emperor’s side during some of
his...most questionable decisions. I watched it happen. I suppose I’ll never
truly understand what it was like from his perspective, especially after the
life he lived as a child, but...”
“I don’t know anything about that part,” Natsume admits. “He doesn’t talk about
it, and it’s always too weird for me to ask, anyway.” His feet kick slowly. “He
told me the Emperor tried to force a resonant bond on him...that’s...”
“Sounds like the Emperor,” Shu says dismissively. “He doesn’t understand
humanity at all. Mm, but I can tell you that after Tsumugi left, he walked out
of the Academy, then turned a mountain into a volcano, just because he could,
then turned the whole thing to dust. He’s a mad dog. You don’t rehabilitate
something like that, you put it down.” 
His pen is trembling, so he sets it down. “As for Tsumugi’s
childhood...admittedly, I don’t know as much as some, but Rei told me quite a
bit of it.”
The Emperor sounds terrifying is what’s on the tip of his tongue, but saying
that makes him sound young and weak, so Natsume bites it back. Instead, he
shifts on the bed, cuddled up around the pillow, watching Shu. “I don’t want
Tsumugi to hate me if I ask other people about it,” he quietly says.
“So...don’t tell me. Though he’d deserve it. He makes me so mad, when he talks
about the Emperor sometimes. He almost keeps trying to apologize for him still.
He also says he doesn’t agree with how Lord Rei kept me out of t”he Academy.” 
“Eichi would have used you,” Shu says, with an air of absolute finality. “You
would be kept in a cage and fed as much as necessary for you to give your
prophecies, or you would have been killed, if using you didn’t give the Emperor
the results he wanted.” 
He settles on a design at last, and starts embellishing it. “Though, apart from
that, I must admit that Tsumugi is sort of correct. If the Emperor weren’t
there...yes, there is much to learn in the Academy. It isn’t the place itself
that’s a stain on magic itself, it’s that blasted Emperor and his cronies.”
Natsume’s stare is a little wide-eyed now, and for admittedly good reason.
“I...I don’t ever want to go there,” he says. “It’s not like I can control
them, or make them be about certain things.” He pauses, then asks the question
that’s been weighing on him, and making him nervous. “You...do you think that
Lord Wataru...is one of the Emperor’s cronies now? He was always so kind to me,
and he helped hide me...” 
“You’re asking the question that I ask myself every day.”
Shu sets his pen down, this time to wipe the ink off his fingers, then rub at
his own temples. “He...was one of my dearest friend,” he says softly. “And in
his own way...I don’t even blame him for hunting me. I do truly want him to be
happy. And he’s found that happiness in a way that I personally revile. I find
such a thing disgusting, but...there’s no fighting a resonant bond. And what
the Emperor did to him...” 
His fingers start shaking, and he folds them firmly in his lap. “When he and I
fought, just the once, I...I have never...been the same. I don’t know what he
did to Wataru, but I know that Wataru and he fought, once, over the ocean,
where no one would be harmed by the fallout. They say that the sun didn’t set
for three days. After that, Wataru has worked with him, ever since. The
Emperor...he wields powers that I can neither fully explain nor understand. So,
no. I don’t believe that Wataru is truly his creature. But I may be a fool.”
“It scares me.” The admission is small and quiet, and Natsume curls up more
firmly around his chosen pillow. “When I met him...he didn’t have his wings
yet, but I thought I saw them, for a minute. It works like that, sometimes--
future things blur with current things, it gets very confusing.” He frowns.
“But now they’re gone again...maybe he’ll go back to the way he was when I met
him. He was so nice and...and he taught me so much. I don’t want him to hate
me, or have to hunt me.” 
“I wonder if he would.” Shu’s voice is soft, but he shakes his head. “I don’t
like to assume anything, around the Emperor. I...I know what being broken by
him feels like.” There’s a quaver in his voice that he hates, and he looks
away, out the window. “People change, or are forced to change. I don’t know if
their resonant bond is just that strong, or if he did something else to Wataru.
The wings...are gruesome.”
“He seemed to like them so much, though.” Natsume burrows down, huffing. “He
didn’t even look at me when he came here. Didn’t he recognize me? Or maybe he
was just trying to protect me...in which case he hasn’t really changed, maybe
he’s just faking the way he is now--he can’t really love someone so terrible,
can he? Wataru’s too good.” His lower lip wobbles. “If Lord Rei were in charge
of the Academy, I’d go. Why won’t more wizards help him?” 
Shu sighs, and moves closer to the bed, reaching out to pat Natsume’s arm.
“Because they’re afraid, like you. Like...some others,” he finishes on a lump
in his throat, not wanting to admit too much. “The Emperor has ruled the
Academy for almost a hundred years. I don’t know anyone except Rei that
remembers the Academy without him. It’s hard to imagine a world free of his
influence.” Shu laces his hands together tightly. “But we have to try.”
Natsume nods, and slowly unfolds himself, reaching out with grabbing fingers.
“You should cuddle me,” he says quietly. “And I can read your palms. I used to
do that for my mom, when she was nervous about things.” 
“But I’m designing, you asked me to do this, what a horribly demanding brat you
are,” Shu lectures, climbing onto the bed and wrapping his arms around Natsume
from behind. He offers up his palms, laying his head next to Natsume’s on the
pillow. “What do you see in my future? I’m not afraid.”
“It’s not like I expect new clothes today,” Natsume sniffs, snuggling back
against Shu and grasping at his hands. His thumbs trace over the lines of Shu’s
palms, his eyes unfocusing. “Power,” he murmurs, his thumb stilling for a
moment. “So muchpower...not...like a Nightcloak’s power, like a demon’s
power.” 
“Good. Ah, maybe I have Rei’s child growing in me after all, heh.”
“...How do you avoid that?” Natsume suddenly asks, veering wildly off-course.
“Getting pregnant. I don’t want to, not right now.” 
“...it was a joke,” Shu clarifies. “Did Rei’s instruction not include sexual
education? Men can’t bear children. Oh, Rei teases me and pretends that demons
can, and can sire babies with those of any gender, but he’s obviously lying.
The reproductive system is only accessible through the vulva. If you have  a
penis, it doesn’t matter how many skirts you wear. There are no anal children.”
“Not even magically?” Natsume tilts his head back, blinking up at him. “That
seems...inconvenient. What if two men are married and they want a child at some
point, though?” 
“Natsume, two men can’t get married.”
“That sounds fake.” 
Shu snorts. “Unfair, yes. But fake? It’s always been this way.”
“That’s stupid, then. Why not? I mean, aren’t you and Lord Rei married?”
Natsume presses. “Everyone talks about you as if you are. Like how they talk
about me and Tsumugi.” 
“But we aren’t.” Shu shrugs. “Most of the country just thinks of us as
perverts. If it were known that the prince and Izumi were lovers, he’d be
declared unfit to lead--he might even be killed. That’s the reality of the
world, though I hear they’re more lenient in the North. But even there,
marriage is not possible.”
“Stupid.” Natsume twists in Shu’s arms, burying is face into his chest. “What
do you think of the prince?” he quietly asks. “I eavesdropped on a conversation
he and Izumi had in the baths one night. He’s not very confident, and
that...worries me, especially now that Izumi came back here without him, and
hasn’t said anything about it.” 
“I think kings are all foolish,” Shu says bluntly. “But this one has human
kindness, even if he’s a fool. The current king is a monster by my standards.
He’s essentially caused the unending war on the Western front with his awful
policies, and I’ve seen firsthand what kind of destruction that causes. Oh.
That reminds me, we’re going West.”
“Why?” Natsume grasps for Shu’s hand again, idly examining the lines in his
palm once more. “Not complaining, just wondering what to expect. I’ve never
been West. You have an insanely long love line, did you know that?” 
“What does that mean, lots of love? A long-lasting love, or a very deep love?
Or, heh, a very old lover?”
“Usually, it means a great capacity for love or skill in relationships. Is Lord
Rei a very good lover?” Natsume’s eyes are sparkling, and he might be a bit too
interested. “When I met him, he was still bedding anyone that struck his fancy-
-and he had short hair, and always wore his shirt open, and he was so pale,
which made him stand out in the Isles so much, but he was so handsome with his
dark hair and long eyelashes, men and women kept throwing themselves at him,
especially because he can sing and play the violin...” 
“He’s an incredibly talented lover,” Shu assures him. “Those men and women were
lucky they got to him before I took him off the market, and I’ll thank them for
teaching him expertise that he can use to make my life better.”
“He always turned the ladies away...which I guess I understand, I don’t want to
do it with a lady, either,” Natsume says with a little shrug. “Have you done it
with him yet? You could tell me about it, you could.” 
“I’ve done...many things with him.” Shu’s mouth twists. “Fortunately or
unfortunately, he’s something of a, well, sex wizard. Making love to his bonded
partner will not only destroy the seal on him, it’ll leave him completely
vulnerable for several minutes. So, we have to time it properly.”
“Oooh. Maybe that’s what it means, then...” Natsume snatches Shu’s hand back,
examining the lines once more. “So cool. Why are we going West when we could
sneak into the Academy and you could have him and blow it up from the inside
out?” 
“Because Rei has a plan,” Shu says wearily, curling his other arm around
Natsume’s waist. “And I won’t interfere, even if I don’t know what it is. We’re
going West because Arashi needs us to. There’s a substantial population int he
West that’s wavering on whether to support Leo for the throne, or support his
father, and they respect wizards more than anyone. If anyone can convince them,
two Nightcloaks can. You wanted to be useful? Here’s your chance.”
“I really...really want to help,” Natsume quietly agrees, and he nuzzles up
underneath Shu’s chin, satisfied with this cuddling arrangement. “So of course
I’ll go. I still have the cloak Wataru gave me. Is Tsumugi coming, too? Ah,
leaving Sora behind makes me worried, though...” 
“He has to grow up eventually. You can bring him, if you’re worried, but it
will be much more dangerous where we’re going. And no, Tsumugi will stay behind
to hold down the Eastern front. It would be confusing if he were seen with you
as a Nightcloak, anyway.”
“Everyone still thinks we’re married, though,” Natsume points out. “I don’t see
why that’s confusing...it’s not like I look any different at any given point.” 
Shu blinks. “Because you’ll be dressed as yourself, of course. In male
clothes.”
Natsume blinks back at him, his brow furrowing. “I’ve...never worn boy’s
clothes.” 
“Never?” Shu frowns, thumb stroking over Natsume’s ribs. “Even before you
bloomed?”
Natsume shakes his head. “My mom used to tell fortunes, read star charts,
things like that, and she used to bring me along to her readings. On the Isles,
it’s bad luck for boys to be part of those ceremonies...so she just dressed me
up as a girl so I could help.” 
“Well, then it’s time to learn. Don’t worry,” Shu assures him, “I’ll make you
very nice male clothes.”
“But I don’t want to,” Natsume protests. “I don’t even know how to sit like a
boy. Boys don’t have long hair like mine, either, and I don’t want to cut it.
Why can’t I keep dressing and acting like I always have?” 
“Plenty of boys have long hair. You can’t keep doing it because in the West,
they don’t listen to women and they don’t listen to men who act like them.
Hmm...have you ever seen the way Captain Arashi acts around people from the
Capital? When he drops his voice and starts scowling at everyone?”
“They have long hair, but they don’t style it like mine.” Natsume’s frowns,
looking down. “I...I know how he acts, and it makes me unhappy. I don’t know if
I can fake it like that. I don’t know how to act like a typical boy or anything
like that. Even Lord Rei and Wataru kept raising me as a girl, and...and that’s
how I like it.”  His lower lip wobbles. “I mean, I’ll try, because I want to
help, but...” 
“You’re a problem, you know,” Shu scolds. “I didn’t know this was an issue. I
would have changed my phrasing if you’d told me this earlier, and I would have
been able to devise a plan. Well, fine, I’ll go alone. I’ll take Tsumugi, you
stay here in High Harbor.”
“No, no, I’ll go, I’ll go!” Natsume clings to him, staring up at him with wide,
wet eyes. “I’ll try really hard. I...I don’t know how to be a boy, though, so
you’ll have to help me, I don’t want to embarrass you or anyone else.”
“Well, fine. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you what you need to know. Hmph, at least
people expect wizards to be somewhat strange in any case. We have something of
a reputation in the West, or so I understand.” Honestly, it had been one grove
of trees that he’d disintegrated, that one time.
Natsume nods, clutching more tightly to Shu. “I still only want to wear your
clothes, though,” he murmurs. “Nothing else is any good. I still get to be
beautiful, right? Most boys are so ugly and they dress poorly.” 
“I’ll make you lovely lacy underthings,” Shu promises, “and then your male
clothes over them, and then your Nightcloak. Honestly, do you think my clothes
are ugly and poor?”
“No, but you’re the exception.” Natsume pouts. “And Lord Rei, I suppose, but
don’t you make all of his clothes, too? You’re so good at it.” 
Shu preens. “Yes, well, of course I’m good at it, I’m incredibly talented, you
know!  And I wouldn’t put you in anything unflattering. I’ve been planning this
sort of outfit for you for months. So. What else can you see in my palms,
besides the fact that my lover is skilled?”
Natsume pulls Shu’s hand back up again, carefully examining. “It’s not that
your lover is skilled--it’s that you’re skilled in love, it doesn’t necessarily
have to be sex,” he says, eyes tracing the lines. “You don’t have a very long
life line, but that can just mean that you always put yourself before others.
Lord Shu is very warm in that way, after all...” 
“Nonsense, I’ve never been told something like that in my life.”
“Kitties know the best, most warm places to cuddle up to,” Natsume says without
batting an eye. “So it has to be true, because I’m here.” 
Shu makes a strangled noise, squeezing Natsume tightly. “How can you say such
cute things with a straight face? You must drive Tsumugi crazy. If I weren’t
bonded...well.”
Natsume beams, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “No, if you weren’t
bonded, you’d be kissing Mika,” he bluntly says, snuggling closer all the same.
“But it’s okay. I made Lord Rei go and find you, he was cranky about it but now
he really loves you.” 
“If I were bonded, I could do whatever I like,” Shu insists. “But...ah, you’re
probably right. You’re the soothsayer, aren’t you? Hmph. I suppose you deserve
some sort of a reward for forcing Rei into responsibility.”
Natsume stares up at him through his lashes. “Just keep making me pretty
clothes, that’s all I really want.” 
“And healing you when you bully men twice your age into rough sex.”
“I didn’t ask for healing!” Natsume huffs. “I just wanted somewhere to hide and
lie  down for a little while. I don’t want anyone to make fun of me.” 
“How unfair of them. And I get mocked enough for my virginity, you’d think
they’d make up their minds about what’s mockable.”
“Why do they mock you for that? That’s stupid. I’ll hit them if I see them
doing it.” 
“Mika thinks I’m too old to be a virgin. But he thought eleven was too old, so
I’m going to assume his logic is somewhat flawed.”
“...I think that’s safe to assume.” Natsume nuzzles at Shu’s shoulder. “I don’t
think you’re too old.”
“Yes, but you don’t think Tsumugi is too old,” Shu says dryly, though he
nuzzles into Natsume’s shoulder in turn nonetheless. “So your opinion is no
more valid than Mika’s, I think.”
“Lord Rei says age doesn’t matter with wizards,” Natsume insists. “You don’t
think he’s too old, so Tsumugi can’t be, either.”
“Hmm. I suppose you have a valid point.” Shu smiles to himself, making certain
that Natsume can’t see him. “You watch yourself with him, though. There’s more
to him than what you see. He’s been that bastard’s right hand for too long not
to have it changed him.”
“I know.” Natsume’s eyes lid before they slide shut entirely. “But I don’t hate
that, so long as he only looks at me now.”
“I just remember something Rei told me.” Shu pets Natsume gently, then shakes
his head. “It doesn’t matter. Go to sleep, kitty.”
***** Chapter 37 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
“He thinks I’m ugly.”
Natsume’s entrance is that statement and that statement only, and his beeline
towards Shu, tears in his eyes, makes it apparent that only Shu is supposed to
be in on this knowledge. Izumi stares over his cup of tea unhelpfully. ‘Ugly’
isn’t a word he’d use any day of the week with Natsume—not from the first night
he met the kid climbing out of the baths and dressing up as a girl, and
certainly not now, when all of that hair of his is twisted back in a simple,
pin-straight tail, and he’s dressed in the fine clothes of a noble boy for a
change.
“If he t-thinks I’m ugly, what will everyone else think?” Natsume whimpers,
clinging to Shu. “I can’t do this, he won’t even talk to me, I changed my
mind.”
“You are beautiful, and how dare you insinuate that my clothing could make you
look any less so?” Shu demands, though his arms go immediately around Natsume
in the most protective embrace he has.
Arashi throws a grape high in the air, then catches it in his mouth, popping it
with gusto. “Who thinks you’re ugly, darling? Do me and Izumi need to rearrange
his face?”
“They’ve got piss poor taste, whoever they are,” Izumi bluntly says. “I mean,
I’d definitely…“
“I-it’s not your clothes’ fault, I’m just ugly,” Natsume huffs, burying his
face into Shu’s neck as he crawls unrepentantly into his lap. “I look bad as a
boy, why can’t I just keep dressing as a lady?”
“Because my beloved countrymen,” Arashi says, with a sarcastic sigh, “hardly
listen to anyone less manly than a bricklayer, unless they’re a wizard. Ugh, I
really don’t want to come, but you’ll all get into trouble if no one guides you
through. Now, who doesn’t think you’re beautiful?”
“Tsumugi, right?” Shu guesses. “Why do you think he thinks you’re ugly,
kitten?”
Natsume sniffs and nods, unmoving from Shu’s arms. “Because he w-won’t even
talk to me,” he whispers. “Every time I come into a room, he just makes up an
excuse to leave—he won’t look at me, he won’t say hello…”
“You can do better, anyway,” Izumi dismisses with a flutter of his hand. “No
real loss.”
Natsume promptly bursts into tears. Mika sighs where he sits at Shu’s feet,
shaking his head, and Izumi blinks rapidly. “What? Seriously, he’s not even
that—oh, c’mon, don’t cry, you’re too pretty to cry. It…it was just a joke,
anyway!”
“It’s called tact, Izumi,” Shu says disapprovingly, stroking Natsume’s hair.
“I’m stunned at how little you’ve heard of it.”
“He’s an awful brute,” Arashi assures him, flicking a grape at Izumi’s
forehead. “Honestly.”
“Besides, Tsumugi definitely doesn’t think you’re ugly.”
Izumi lifts his hands in exasperation. “I just think he’d be better off with
someone closer to his own age, someone that isn’t so—“
“Stop,” Mika interrupts this time. “You gotta.”
Natsume sniffles again, lifting his face enough to stare at Shu with large, wet
eyes. “He d-does,” he hiccups. “He’s never avoided me like this—it’s because
I’m not cute now.”
Shu rolls his eyes, and grabs Natsume’s face in his hands, squishing his cheeks
together. “What does Tsumugi avoid?” he asks firmly.
Natsume blinks slowly through his tears. “Happiness.”
Arashi snorts. Shu ignores him. “Exactly. And why, then, is he avoiding you
now?”
“Ooh!” Arashi chimes in. “I know, I have an idea! He’s a pervert who likes
little boys, and darling Natsume finally looks like one!”
“H-he likes my lacy underthings, boys don’t wear those—“
Mika exhales a skeptical noise.
“So he doesn’t really like boys that much! H-he was so happy when I finally
told him I liked being his wife, so now I’ve ruined it…”
“Good lord,” Izumi mutters, downing back his tea.
“This is an absurd conversation,” Shu says with a sigh. “Look, just go corner
him, lock him in the room with you, and push him against a wall. And don’t you
dare forget that you’re vastly too good for him, do you hear me?”
“He’s still going to turn me down,” Natsume unhappily says. “I’m serious, he
definitely thinks I’m ugly now…”
“Listen,” Izumi says, unable to bite his tongue again. “If you want a guy to
fuck you, hewill fuck you. It’s even easier when you’re so pretty. Go climb him
like a tree, grab his hands and put them on your ass, he’ll get the idea if his
dick works.”
Natsume sniffs. “It works.”
“Good, then make it do its job again. He’s old, you don’t have much time left.”
Natsume sits back, gingerly wiping at his eyes. “I thought I looked cute,” he
moodily grumbles.
“Until someone tells me that my clothes look bad,” Shu snaps, turning Natsume
physically around to face the door, “I will continue to assume that everyone
finds you beautiful. Go out there. Do it for those of us who have a stupidly
mysterious and honorable lover who doesn’t want to blow up the world, so you’re
not allowed to have sex even now that I’m finally free of that stupid
underwear, and--”
He bites his tongue, cutting himself off. “Anyway. Just go.”
“I have offered dozens of times,” Izumi dryly tosses over. “Just for the
record.”
Natsume huffily nods, and he stumbles towards the door, albeit nervously. “If
he still acts like I’m ugly after this,” he mumbles, “I quit.”
Finding Tsumugi is easy. Cornering him isn’t too hard…but it’s not so much
‘cornering’ on Natsume’s part as it is slinking into Tsumugi’s study and
nervously locking the door behind himself. Being as bold as Shu and Izumi
suggested is easier said than done, and Natsume hesitates, hands linked behind
himself. “Tsumugi.”
“Yes?” Tsumugi’s answer is cheerful, until he looks up. His breath stutters,
and he looks down again quickly at his book. The words swim in his vision, and
his stomach flips. “N-Natsume, you’re--ah, you’re here, perhaps I should go--”
“Why?” Natsume’s eyes narrow, and he focuses hard on glaring instead of looking
sad, biting his lip in an attempt to keep it from wobbling. “You keep running
from me—do you…” He nervously shifts, looking down at his feet. “D-do you not
like the way I look?”
Tsumugi moves before his mind catches up with his body, almost as if he’s
helplessly drawn to Natsume, his hands coming up without permission. “Sorry in
advance,” he murmurs, then, helplessly, keeps apologizing as he lurches
forward, pressing kisses to Natsume’s cheek, then his forehead, then his lips.
Then he grabs Natsume’s hips, the kissing something he’s helpless to stop as he
hoists him onto his desk, panting between kisses. “I can’t--look at you--in
public--when you’re--like this--”
Oh. Oh. That’s not the reaction Natsume expects, and a little squeak escapes
his lips when Tsumugi scoops him up like he weighs nothing. “I—“ He’s cut off
by another kiss, and his face flushes, his hands helplessly lifting to grasp at
Tsumugi’s arms, clinging there. “I thought…you thought I was ugly,” he
whispers, squirming where he sits. “I’ve never dressed as a boy before…”
“Natsume...”
Tsumugi can’t help himself, and he bites at Natsume’s lower lip, sucking it
hard as he slides a hand up between his thighs. “The dress is the only thing
keeping me from jumping on you in public. Like this, I...ah, you’re exactly my
weakness, unfortunately...”
“O-oh,” Natsume gasps, whimpering as he lurches forward to the edge of the
desk, his thighs spreading automatically. His fingers curl helplessly around
Tsumugi’s wrist, nails biting into his skin as his cock twitches, already
embarrassingly hard. “You…you should’ve just said that, then you could’ve done
this already…”
“Let me suck it this time,” Tsumugi begs, biting Natsume’s ear, sucking
urgently on the lobe. “Please, you look so good, I want to taste you, all of
you...”
Natsume whines, kicking his feet against Tsumugi’s desk in frustration. “But I
want you to put it in me,” he huffs, squeezing his thighs against Tsumugi’s
hips as he tugs him forward, arms slung around his neck. “Aren’t I cute? I want
to make cute noises when you shove it in me agaaaiiin…Tsumugiiii…”
“Last time you came about six times,” Tsumugi groans, hand shaking as he stuffs
it into Natsume’s pants. He licks his lips, his own cock hardening even faster
than when Natsume was straddling him in lingerie. “At least give me the first
one, please...”
Natsume gasps a the touch of Tsumugi’s hand, and he arches with a breathy
little moan, his nails biting into Tsumugi’s back. “They’re right, you really
are a pervert,” he whimpers. “F-fine, just—just do it already, make me feel
really good.”
Tsumugi pauses, face worried, hand stilling. “Wait, who thinks I’m a pervert?”
A low, warning hiss escapes through Natsume’s teeth. “If you stop, I’m going to
make you wish you were never born.”
“Oh, oh, right, very well. But can we talk about it later?”
Tsumugi drops to his knees before he gets a response, and his fingers move
nimbly over the laces at the front of Natsume’s trousers. His hands then slide
down, cupping over the slender lines of Natsume’s legs. His voice is a low,
shaky whisper when he moans, “You look so good like this, I’ll never keep my
hands to myself, everyone really will think I’m a pervert...”
“Good,” Natsume huffs, fisting his fingers up into Tsumugi’s hair, tugging
helplessly. “Touch me more, you made me really mad when you kept avoiding me.
Now you have to make it up to me, or else.”
Tsumugi peels Natsume’s trousers down, and immediately lurches forward,
dragging his tongue over the head of Natsume’s cock before he sucks it down to
the root in one gulp. His face nestles against curly hairs, and he groans,
throbbing and aching in his trousers, mouth watering so freely it drips from
where his lips are sealed around Natsume’s cock.
Natsume gasps and arches forward, not expecting to have his cock so
thoroughlyswallowed, and by such an eager mouth, besides. His fingers curl
against Tsumugi’s scalp as his hips buck forward helplessly, a breathless
little whimper escaping his throat when his cock drips freely over Tsumugi’s
tongue. “Tsumugiii…” he groans. “I…if you keep…keep doing that, I’m gonna come
so fast…”
Tsumugi pulls back, intending to talk, but he leans forward again, unwilling to
let the tip slip out of his mouth, diving back in a few times to suck on the
head. A tear rolls down his cheek from sheer need, his hands fisting in
Natsume’s trousers. “It’s fine,” he gasps, tonguing the tip, teasing out
another bead of liquid. “Whenever--I just want you to love this, I want you to
be happy--”
Natsume’s eyes glaze, and his hips thrust forward on their own accord, sliding
past Tsumugi’s lips again to rub against that teasing tongue. “I-it’s—ahhn—it’s
really…g-good,” he whimpers, slumping forward, bent over Tsumugi’s head,
clinging to the curls of his hair as he ruts forward without thought, unable to
stop himself when he’s so hard, when Tsumugi’s mouth is so hot, when he just
keeps telling him to do what he wants…
He spills with a ragged, breathless noise, the mess not entirely making it into
Tsumugi’s mouth when he can help but grind forward. “Tsumugi—Tsumuugiii…a-ah,
gods, I…”
Tsumugi swallows, gulping down the bitter, salty liquid as it hits his tongue.
His eyelashes flutter, and he reaches up, wiping his hand through the mess,
then bringing it to his lips, licking the rest and swallowing it down. “Thank
you,” he breathes, leaning forward to suckle and lap Natsume clean. “Thank you,
thank you, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”
Natsume whines, twitching and squirming underneath Tsumugi’s tongue, the
overstimulation making his toes curl. “Tsumugi…nhhh, too muuuch…” He huffs, his
face hot as he pulls on Tsumugi’s hair. “S-stop licking it, I’m going to die.
You…You’ve gotta keep making me feel good, you promised…”
With a force of will, Tsumugi pulls back, his face full of regret. “I’d
forgotten how much I liked that,” he whispers, and eases Natsume’s trousers
down the rest of the way, turning him, bending him over the desk. “Did you like
that spell I did last time? Or I have sage oil for reading, it feels better but
the smell lasts for days...”
Natsume’s face flushes hot, and he slumps forward over the desk, his legs
trembling. “I…it smells like you, so that’s fine,” he whispers, burying his
face down into his arms. Even as overstimulated as he is, his cock throbs, and
he moans, dissolving a little as he squirms against the desk. “Take care of me,
you’re really h-hard after that, aren’t you?”
Tsumugi nods eagerly, shoving his own trousers down, letting Natsume see just
how hard he is, straining in the air. “I’ll die if I’m not in you soon,” he
breathes, and grabs for his sage oil, tipping it over his hand, then starting
to work it into Natsume’s body, two fingers at a time. “Open up for me,
sweetheart, you’re still so tight...”
Natsume’s mouth falls open, and he flops forward over the desk limply, his toes
curling against the ground. Tsumugi’s fingers are long and accurate, sliding in
deep and then pressing in all the right places, leaving him to whimper and
writhe, his chest heaving. “B-but I want it, I want it,” he huffs, tilting his
head back to gulp in long draughts of air, his ponytail dripping down his back,
now mussed and sweaty. “You’re so big, I need it…p-please…”
“Don’t worry--don’t worry, I’m giving it to you, you can--ah, gods, you can
have whatever you want, just give me a moment--”
Tsumugi’s next kiss is clumsy, hitting at the top of Natsume’s ear, his hand
striking all the places he thinks will feel good, spreading and stretching that
sweet hole. “Sorry, I--you’re so little, I’ve never, with someone so, so
perfect--”
The noises that escape Natsume’s throat is frantic, a breathless little mewl
when his back arches sharply underneath the perfect press of those fingers
curling inside of him. He stretches up onto his tip-toes, the muscles in his
legs tense and trembling, his body squeezing tight around Tsumugi’s fingers
when they try to pull out. “Y…you’ve gotta put it in,” he whispers, mindlessly
pawing a hand own his own chest, thoughtlessly rubbing his fingers over a
nipple through the fabric of his shirt and groaning when that just makes his
cock twitch harder. “Please…please…”
“You look so cute when you play with yourself,” Tsumugi whispers, hoping that
sounds as encouraging as he means it. “I’d love to watch you tease yourself for
hours, honestly...I’d love to tease you for hours, I...ah, I can’t stand it,
I’m putting it in, all right?”
With that he moves, only barely managing to line up correctly before he ruts
forward, the thick head of his cock breaching that small hole. It feels just as
tight as the first time, but at least he’s less convinced that he’ll tear
Natsume apart this time. “How’s that? Too much? Ah, I’m sorry, I don’t think I
can stop even if it is...”
Natsume melts. He whimpers low in his throat, melting into the desk, scrabbling
vaguely for purchase when Tsumugi’s cock pushes inside, spreading him apart,
stealing his breath. He pants and gasps, his eyes squeezing shut, legs
trembling as they try to spread just a bit more, as if that makes it any easier
for Tsumugi to squeeze his thick cock inside. “’s…it’s good…ahh..g-gods, I c-
can’t…” Breathe, think, move, anything.
“You’re doing so well, you’re so good, I--”
Wait, no. That isn’t what Natsume likes, is it? Tsumugi tries to think about
anything, about what he needs to be able to give Natsume what he needs, as he
presses deep into the sweetest heat he’s ever been privileged enough to touch.
He lurches forward, and sucks on Natsume’s earlobe, fumbling for words. “You’re
going to take it all, because you’re going to be so good for me, aren’t you?
I’m just--taking what I want.”
Natsume swallows loudly, clinging to the desk, his fingers bunching and
crumpling whatever papers they end up grabbing when Tsumugi presses against
him, pushes him down into the hard wood, and whispers those words against his
ear. Inside, Tsumugi’s cock throbs, too big, too thick, filling him up in all
the right places until it’s uncomfortably too much. “H-hurts,” he whispers, his
eyes rolling back when Tsumugi shoves deeper. “Nnghh..i..is…is that all of it?
I…I wanna be good, y-you can have me as much as you want…”
Tsumugi’s whole body shudders, and all of a sudden the act stops being an act.
He slams in deep, teeth scoring across the shell of Natsume’s ear. “You’re so
cute, and you’re all mine, aren’t you?” he groans, lurching forward until his
hand grabs the edge of the desk, helping to brace his weight. That gives him
the leverage he needs to slide in deeper, harder, other arm wrapped around
Natsume’s waist as he whispers, “Last time, I couldn’t stop thinking about you
after--every time I close my eyes I see you begging for this--it’s good, isn’t
it? Tell me how much you love it inside you.”
Natsume whines, yelping loudly when Tsumugi shoves into him, his entire body
seizing up into tight, trembling shivers. Tsumugi grabbing him like that,
Tsumugi being this rough, Tsumugi’s voice getting all low and rumbly and rough
in his ear…Natsume groans, dissolving, his nails fisting into his palms, his
chest heaving as he squirms, the breath squeezing from his lungs when he does.
He can feel how full he is, feel the cramping ache that makes even his toes
tingle and hurt. “I…it’s so…” he tries, his cheeks flushed red, sweat dripping
down his back and sticking them even more firmly together. “I…it feels…it feels
like y-you’re breaking me in haaalf…” The words come out as a weak, breathy
moan, and Natsume’s cock twitches, trapped against the desk. “I w-wish…you’d
just…stay in me all the time…”
Tsumugi laughs, low in his chest. There’s a rumble that goes through his body,
deep and hungry, and he drags Natsume back onto him, holding him still while he
grinds in over and over. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Such a naughty
child...you’re always so cruel, beating me and teasing me, but it’s just
because you want me to bend you over, hmm? You want this--”
He punctuates the sentence with a vicious thrust, hard enough that his balls
slap up against Natsume’s ass. “You want it--so bad you--can’t express yourself
any--other--way--”
Natsume nods frantically—as much as he can, at any rate, when he can barely
think beyond how he’s sure he can taste Tsumugi all the way up into his throat.
“I-if you’d just fuck meall the time, that’d be better,” he whimpers, his voice
breaking on a high, rasping mewl. He can feel Tsumugi’s cock rubbing at all the
right places inside of him, slowly, mercilessly milking him, and a trickle of
drool escapes from the corner of his mouth as he pants into the desk. It’s no
longer cool to the touch, and that makes him groan in protest, his cheek
rubbing against the polished finish, now fogged up with his breath and sweat.
“E…even if I’m dressed like a boy…you should just…grab me and pull me into your
lap, l-like I’m your little pet…”
The words go right to Tsumugi’s cock, and he groans, slamming into Natsume so
hard that he bends over the desk at a right angle, toes lifting off the floor.
He rocks in deeper every time, one hand reaching around to toy with one of
Natsume’s nipples, as hard as he dares. “That’s a good boy...I’ll just keep
taking you like this until you’re sweet, hmm? Then you--you really must be like
a kitty in heat, you’re so much nicer when you’re nice and full...”
There’s no helping how fast he comes with those words. It’s embarrassing, and
Natsume sobs, every pull and pinch on his nipples going straight to his
throbbing, pulsing cock, every achingly deep thrust making his cock spill
harder and longer. He shouldn’t come like this after already spilling once in
Tsumugi’s mouth, but with his cock rubbing at just the right angle, there’s no
helping it, and Natsume feels it splattering hot and sticky underneath himself,
onto the desk and dripping to the floor. “T…too much…” he moans, sounding
delirious, uncaring, unhearing. “Tsumugiiiii…”
“I think,” Tsumugi says softly, grabbing Natsume by the hips and pulling him
back hard, “that you should call me...hmm. My lord. Or maybe just husband--what
is it that turns you on more, my sweet? Spread your legs wider, I want to see
how wrecked you are while I’m in you.”
Natsume exhales a high, breathy sound, trying to do as he’s told, but his legs
don’t particularly seem to want to work. “I…I’m trying,” he whispers, any
amount of squirming around just making Tsumugi feel even bigger in him, which
makes him mewl and pant. “M…my lord—it’s—it’s so much, I c-can’t…”
“You can, though...you were made for this, weren’t you? Ah--no, wait, it
doesn’t matter, you just--you’re here for my pleasure.”
Remembering the words Natsume likes gets harder and harder when he gets close,
and Tsumugi reaches down, grabbing Natsume’s thigh and yanking it up, somehow
managing to slide in even deeper with a groan, pace picking up until he’s
slapping in faster than the rhythm of his heart. “That’s--that’s such a good
boy, that’s--what I paid for, right?”
Natsume swallows, and swears he feels Tsumugi in his throat. It’s just too
much—he can’t help but squeeze down around Tsumugi when he slides in deeper,
somehow, and his eyes roll into the back of his head with a rasping, broken
whimper. He thinks he nods, but mostly, he tries to keep his legs apart, tries
to be good and pliant and made for Tsumugi to fuck. “Y-yes—my lord—“ His voice
breaks into a squeak again, and he just buries it down into the desk.
That little squeak does him in, and Tsumugi cries out, lurching forward as he
rocks in so hard he sees stars as he spills. He can’t help himself, but splays
his hand out on Natsume’s stomach, pressing down hard as he leans towards
Natsume’s ear. “That feels good, hmm? You need to be full, right? Not--hungry
anymore, hmm?”
Natsume groans and writhes, kicking his feet helplessly in protest. As small as
he is, as large as Tsumugi is, the pressure low on his stomach makes him gulp
and pant, feeling the way he clenches down harder around Tsumugi’s cock without
explicitly telling his body to do just that. “I…it’s so much,” he whimpers,
panting hotly into the desk. Not a drop wants to escape with how tight he still
is around Tsumugi’s cock, and that’s both nice and quickly becoming
uncomfortable, when Tsumugi presses on him like that. “That’s mean…hurts, p-
please, be nice to me, I can’t…”
“I wish I had...mm, have you ever heard of...”
Now that it comes to actually voicing it, Tsumugi blushes, and brushes
Natsume’s hair behind his ear. “There’s a thing, a little contraption called a
plug, have you heard of it?”
Natsume’s head shakes. “No,” he whispers, weakly turning his head towards
Tsumugi’s touch. “I…I haven’t.”
Tsumugi strokes him, hands gentle on his hair, on his waist, on his arms.
“There’s a toy that you can, ah, wear? That keeps it all...inside. As long as
you want. It’s been quite a while since I saw one, heh...”
“Everyone’s right,” Natsume dazedly murmurs, shutting his eyes. “You’re really
a pervert…”
“Ehh? They really are saying something like that?” Worried, Tsumugi sits back
in his chair, pulling Natsume into his lap. “I don’t mean to say anything that
would make you uncomfortable...I just thought you might like the idea...”
Natsume flails for balance for a moment before he just surrenders to Tsumugi’s
pulling, even if it means settling down onto his cock with a wince. “N..no, I…I
like the idea, I’m…they…just like to tease you, for liking me so much, even
when I wear boy’s clothes…” He flops backwards, squirming. “I don’t know how
long I can stay like this,” he admits hoarsely. “I’m still sore from before.”
Gently, Tsumugi lifts Natsume off of his softening cock, then turns him
sideways to sit across his thighs, holding him close. “I hope you don’t hate me
for saying this,” he says suddenly. “But I love you. I’m, I’m in love with you.
And I have been for too long.”
Natsume says nothing for a moment, then weakly, half-heartedly slaps at
Tsumugi’s chest. “I’m mad at you,” he mumbles, wincing as he tries to adjust
himself on Tsumugi’s lap, and primly keep his legs closed, though it doesn’t
seem to stop himself from dripping, bleck. “The least you could have done is
been more obvious about it.”
“Ah, when you’re a thirty-something year old runaway refugee, in love with a
teenage boy more powerful and beautiful than you could ever dream of...”
Tsumugi shrugs. “It would have been bad to let you know. I also thought you
hated me.”
“Wrong.” Natsume slowly shifts, turning to bury his face into Tsumugi’s neck,
breathing in deep. “You just make me mad, sometimes,” he murmurs. “I had the
biggest crush on you, when we first met…and then you were so…not what I
expected, that I got frustrated. I’m still frustrated.” His face heats up
again. “But that doesn’t mean I…I don’t…mm.”
“You were barely ten,” Tsumugi protests, guilt twisting in him. “I mean, you
were still beautiful, but you were just a child, I would never have done these
things with you then.”
“Shut up.” Natsume huddles up against his chest. “I don’t care about that. I-
it’s not like I don’t…have that same crush on you now,” he mumbles. “You’re
just even more confusing now, somehow.”
“Sorry,” Tsumugi says, almost automatically. “Just...you don’t have to say
anything, if you don’t feel it. This is...ah, saying it’s enough for me is such
an understatement. I never thought I could be like this with you once, much
less twice. I’m very grateful.”
“…If you’re in love with me,” Natsume crossly says, “you should act more
possessive, more proprietary. Then it’ll feel like we’re really together, and
it’s not just an act you’re humoring me with.”
“Eh? Me, humoring you?”
Tsumugi swallows hard, folding his hands on Natsume’s lap. “I don’t like
possessive people,” he admits. “I think if someone wants to leave you they
should be able to. I’ve been owned before. I’d never do that to you.”
“I’m not saying I want you to own me. I just want…you know, like how lovers
are.” Natsume fidgets, looking aside. “Like how Lord Rei and Shu are. Or…or
like how Captain Arashi and Mika are. I don’t own you, either, but that doesn’t
mean I want you thinking of anyone else, or kissing anyone else, or…all of
this.”
“But...” Tsumugi spreads his hands, helpless. “I’d give you the stars if I
could, Natsume, but...”I can’t imagine ever being enough for you.
No, that will just force Natsume to leave him immediately. He has to at least
try. “Wait, is that true? You don’t want me thinking of anyone else?
Ah...I...in my perfect world...no, I can do this.”
He takes a deep breath. “You...I want you to be mine. To really be mine--to
only think about me all the time, to dream about me when you’re asleep and want
to be near me when you’re awake...”
Natsume lifts his head, staring back at him through mussed, sweaty hair, and
very bluntly says, because nothing else ever seems to get across to Tsumugi,
“But that’s how I feel. You’re the one that never acts interested, you’re the
one that still seems stuck on stuff that happened a long time ago. You’re
frustrating, pay more attention to me.”
Tsumugi gives up, fluttering his hands in the air. “You’re right. I’ll try to
be more, ah, husband-like, in the future. I just want to support you, I want
you to be happy.”
Natsume sticks his tongue out at him. “Like it’s hard? Kiss me more, you idiot.
And if you’re really a pervert, prove it.”
“W-what? I don’t--I thought you didn’t want me to be a pervert, I’ve been
trying to be good!”
“No. I like knowing what you want to do to me. And so far, I like it when you
do it.”
Tsumugi presses a kiss to the top of Natsume’s head, unable to stop himself
from breathing in deeply. “I like it when you smell like me,” he says softly.
“That’s the tamest of the things I can admit.”
Natsume shivers, and buries himself firmly into Tsumugi’s chest, arms sliding
up around his neck. “I like it, too,” he quietly says. “And that’s a good
starting place for you to stop being so tame.”
“Eh? You want me to start being more, ah...perverted...right now? I thought you
could barely move.” Despite his protests, Tsumugi’s cock gives a hard twitch
against Natsume’s thigh.
“N-no, not right now, just in general!” Natsume protests, giving Tsumugi’s hair
a swift yank. “I’m already mad at you, I have to go and travel, and I’m so
sore, this is all your fault.” In spite of his words, he doesn’t exactly sound
all that upset.
“Next time, I’ll be more gentle,” Tsumugi promises, tucking a strand of hair
behind Natsume’s ear. “And I’ll leave you love bites instead, so you can show
those off instead of your limp.”
Natsume nods, pleased, as he snuggles against Tsumugi contently. “Perfect. Then
everyone will know I have a possessive lover, I like that.” His eyes lid, his
fingers slowly curling through the ends of Tsumugi’s hair. “I…am going to miss
you,” he mumbles, almost too-quietly for Tsumugi to hear. “Don’t do stupid
things while I’m gone.”
Tsumugi’s cheeks flush, and he squeezes Natsume tight to his chest. “I’ll try
not to. Please keep yourself safe. I’m glad you’re going to have Shu and Arashi
close by, they’re both very competent.”
“I’m not good at acting like a boy.” Natsume huffs, and squeezes himself into
an even smaller ball within Tsumugi’s arms. “I don’t really want to go. But I
will, because I’m not going to be useless.”
“Ah, if it helps? I think ttat many men will be, um, too impressed by your
cloak to notice your mannerisms. And...you make a very nice boy.”
Natsume blushes, and smacks him again. “Pervert,” he says, though it sounds
pleased, more than anything else. He supposes if Tsumugi approves, that’s a
decent starting line.
***** Chapter 38 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
Ritsu’s complaining is at an all-time high.
Mao can tolerate this. He’s always been able to tolerate this. In this case, he
supposes he deserves it. The plan after escaping High Harbor was going directly
to the Shadowlands—and Mao had agreed too readily, being as tired as he was.
Unfortunately, his conscience refused to leave him alone.
“We have to go back,” he had said a few days ago, and Ritsu would’ve been right
to kill him right then and there, Mao thinks. But… “I can’t not warn Keito.” He
practically raised me, he can’t be caught in the crossfire.
So, back towards the capital they go, and along the way, they seem to
acquire…company. Mao has felt these kinds of trackers before. He’s seen them, a
pair of twins, odd and unnerving in their similarity to one another, but he
knows nothing about them, or why they occasionally track him, disappearing the
second he tries to speak to them.
“You know,” Mao wearily deadpans. “I thought, for some reason, that this would
stop happening when I stopped being a spy. Spies being spied on, it seemed
ironic enough for it to make sense so I could ignore it, but here we are.” His
head hurts, his chest hurts, the scar he acquired from the Academy’s poison
still vaguely aching from time to time. He doesn’t need strange little spies
following him around right now, when he’s trying to do something right.
“Maybe they’re a sign from the gods,” Ritsu suggests. He’s draped over his
horse, face pressed to the big gelding’s mane as he dozes off and on. “They’re
probably trying to send you a psychic message that you’re wasting your time to
warn a piece of shit coward traitor that he’s going to get what’s coming to
him.”
Mao exhales a long, drawn-out sigh. “We’ve been over this, Ritsu. He’s not a
bad person, and he doesn’t deserve to be caught up in this when your brother
decides to blow up the entire Academy.”
“He tortured you? So, yeah, he totally does deserve it.”
“He didn’t have a choice. And he felt terrible about it, it was obvious.”
“Everyone has a choice. I choose not to torture you every day, it’s pretty easy
when you’re not a terrible person.”
Mao’s lips purse. “If you’re not going to be able to be nice to him, I’m going
to ask you to go and do something else when I meet up with him. Like, I don’t
know, make those two stop tracking us,” he calls irritably over his shoulder.
There’s a rustle from somewhere within the brush, but nothing more.
Ritsu scowls, and lashes out with a tendril of dark power, snagging a fluffy
tail and yanking it into the road behind them. “They’re Shadowcreatures,” he
explains, blinking slowly back at the little creature. “Hi. Don’t run or I’ll
catch you. Tell me what you are or I’ll catch your friend, too.”
The creature yelps and snarls, baring sharp canine teeth. His orange-furred
tail lashes, and the large, fluffy ears on his head swivel, pinning backwards
against equally orange hair that flops messily around his face. “You can’t
catch him,” he stubbornly says. “He’s faster.”
“They’re Shadowcreatures? Demons, like you?” Mao asks, incredulous, turning his
horse around to stare at the little thing. He looks like a little boy, save for
the ears and tail, and he’s clad in the clothing of a traveling noble, so
whoever his patron is, they obviously have money. “I think the other one must
be his brother. I’ve seen them before and they’re identical.”
“Wow, Maao, just because we’re from the same country doesn’t mean we’re the
same...kinda racist...”
Ritsu slides off his horse, walking slowly to the captive boy, staring down at
him with his arms folded. “Tell me who you work for, slow one. Are you just
watchers, or are you also here to hurt my mate? I’ll talk in Shadowtongue if
you prefer...”
“I’m not racist, you’re just being ridiculous,” Mao sighs, warily nudging his
horse forward, uninterested in being too far away from Ritsu if something
happens.
The boy hisses at him again, warily scooting backwards on the ground with his
long, sharp claws leaving marks on the dirt. “I don’t have to tell you
anything! I’m just here to watch, so let me go!”
“They have watched me for years and nothing has come of it,” Mao calls over,
starting to feel bad when the little demon starts shaking. “Don’t scare him to
death, Ritchan.”
Ritsu rolls his eyes. “I find it hard to believe that Keito was teaching you to
take over his job when your heart is so cute and soft,” he says with a sigh. He
looms over the boy for another moment, then shrugs. “You don’t have to tell me
anything, I guess. But if I find out you’re working for someone I don’t
like...then I’m gonna be way angrier than if you just told me now.”
“Keito’s not a bad person, either, he’s just…” Mao exhales, waving a hand.
“C’mon, leave him be. I want to get back to the capital already.”
“You can’t go back,” the boy blurts out suddenly, looking worriedly between
Ritsu and Mao. “You were supposed to go to the Shadowlands, where it’s safe.”
“I knew it,” Ritsu says, eyes glinting suddenly. He switches to Shadowtongue,
the words coming out in a hiss that sounds friendly to anyone that knows the
language. “My brother, or my parents? It’s my brother, isn’t it?”
The boy stares up at him, wide-eyed and nervous. “Y…your brother,” he whispers,
switching to Shadowtongue as well. “But you’re not supposed to know—neither of
you are. When you were going to the Shadowlands, that was good, but now you’re
not and you’re going somewhere that’s really not safe, and your brother’s gonna
be upset…”
“I knew it, I knew it,” Ritsu mutters, eyes alight. “Look. My mate here thinks
I agreed to go to the Academy to warn his stupid old mentor, but I’m going
because I know my brother is planning something. I’m going to be there to help
him. Let him know.”
The boy frowns worriedly, shaking his head. “I’m not going to tell him that,”
he says. “If I do, he’s going to figure out a way to send you two away.”
“Can you please speak the common tongue?” Mao wearily says. “I don’t recall
agreeing to travel with a snake.”
“Then don’t tell him. I’m really sick of him moving the world to protect me
when I could be helping.” Ritsu darts a look back at Mao, then adds in
Shadowtongue, “Does my mate know who you work for? Sorry, Maao,” he says in
Mao’s language, not looking apologetic at all. “He’s a feisty fox. Oh, his
brother’s about to hit you from behind.”
“What?!” Mao’s heels dig into his horse, bringing him to bolt forward. “Holy
shit, why didn’t you warn me before?”
The first boy hisses, then jumps away, leaping back towards his brother and
latching onto his tail. “We don’t have to tell you anything,” he says, sticking
out his tongue. “But if you go to the capital, you’re making a biiiig mistake.”
The second boy lurches forward, snapping his teeth against Ritsu’s magic bond
to his brother, snapping it in a flash of smoke. His eyes glint, and he moves
in front of his brother protectively. “We’re here to keep you safe,” he says,
guarded, eyes flicking between both of them. “That includes keeping you both
away from the Capital.”
“This is your fault,” Ritsu complains to Mao. “You’re the one who wanted to go
back, I wanted to go drink Shadewine in the homeland.”
“Just because I wanted to do the right thing, you’re going to blame this all on
me?” Mao protests. “How was I supposed to know we’d pick up a pair of trackers?
Go on, shoo,” he huffs, waving a hand at the twins. “We don’t have time to play
with you.”
“You’re not gonna like it if he hears about this,” the older brother warns,
backing up until both of them hit the treeline. “It’s safer to stay in the
Shadowlands. This is a warning!”
“Yeah, except you only gave me that warning because I caught you,” Ritsu
mutters. “Get out of here.”
They disappear, and he swings back onto his horse, grimacing. “All right. You
were right. Let’s go South, I want to mess stuff up for my stupid brother.”
“Wait, what about your brother?” Mao presses, pulling his horse around to come
up beside Ritsu. “What exactly did those trackers say? You know, talking in
Shadowtongue means you have to explain things twice, and that’s extra work for
you.”
“Yeah, I just didn’t want you to panic if they were from my parents and sent to
kill you,” Ritsu says with a shrug. “I’d have killed them, then, and fed you a
lie. But they just work for my brother, which is more boring, and it means that
I’m right. Something big is going to happen in the Capital.”
“It means you’re right? More like it means I’m right for wanting to head back
there and warn the people I care about,” Mao growls, spurring his horse forward
immediately. “Of course they work for your brother, of course they do. They’ve
followed me around off and on for years, especially when I was around you.”
“I just don’t get why you still care about that guy,” Ritsu grumbles. He
follows Mao forward, glaring back at the trees. “We could be going back to do
something important, not saving some asshole from his own problems.”
“Because,” Mao patiently says, “he more or less raised me. Your brother dropped
me off at the Academy without a lot of explanation, you know. It’s lucky I was
a fast learner—and that your brother happened to be tumbling one of the men
closest to the Emperor at the time. Otherwise, I probably would’ve gotten fed
to the Emperor’s pet lion or something, who knows.”
Ritsu sulks, but steers his horse closer to Mao, leaning forward against his
neck again. “Okay. Tell me about him, then. Tell me about the guy that raised
you. Make me care.”
“Don’t ride your horse like that, what if something makes him bolt and you get
hurt?” Mao scolds, but he sighs all the same, glancing up through the lines of
trees. “Keito is…a very fair-minded person,” he settles upon. “That’s why I
can’t fault him for arresting me and torturing me. He always tries to do what’s
right—that’s why he took care of me in the first place. He loves children, and
he’s always especially kind to them—well, at least when he’s sure no one’s
going to tease him about it. He’s known the Emperor for a long time now, and I
know he’s just trying to see the best in him. That’s why I can’t let him sit
there and get caught up in this further.” He rolls his eyes. “I don’t think he
ever even realized I knew he and Rei were involved. He’s oblivious to the
strangest things.”
“Is there anyone in the whole realm that my beloved brother hasn’t had between
his legs?” Ritsu grouses. “No wonder he left the Shadowlands, they wouldn’t
have stood for that kind of stuff up there. Ahhh, I can’t say I don’t get
it...the Emperor is like, a bad person? Definitely. But he’s not unpleasant to
spend time with.”
“Tell me that again when you don’t have to deliver his mail,” Mao says with a
roll of his eyes. “And yes, I can think of a great number of people your
brother hasn’t bedded, thank the gods. For the reputation he has, he’s
surprisingly particular. I was forever grateful when he decided he was done
with that; less chance of me walking in on something awkward when he decided to
summon me on a whim.”
“Have you had him?” Ritsu asks bluntly.
“No! Gods, no, why would you even ask that?” Mao says with a grimace. “He’s not
to my taste at all—I’ve only ever laid with women, you know. Even the Emperor
flirted with me once and I have never come up with fifteen additions to my
schedule for the day so fast.”
“Heh, you turned down the Emperor?” Ritsu laughs, reaching out to squeeze Mao’s
hand. “Your virginity is really precious to you, huh? I can’t wait to take it.”
“I’m not a virgin! I’ve had women,” Mao insists, though his cheeks flush all
the same. “But yes, I turned down the Emperor. He’s strange, and overbearing,
and honestly far too tall, I’m not interested.”
“Go back to the fun part of the conversation,” Ritsu insists. “I’m gonna put it
in you when you’re ready. You’re gonna like it. Your virginity is totally mine.
I’m not tall like him. So it’s okay.”
“You know, it’s funny that you mentioned how your brother’s habits of climbing
between everyone’s legs wouldn’t fly in the Shadowlands. Do you know how many
times he reminded me not to touch you? Or how many times he deliberately had me
followed when I was first assigned to keep an eye on you? I was thirteen, and
he still seemed to think I was going to steal your virginity, when in reality,
you were busy climbing into—how many different beds?”
“Yeah, that’s why I left the Shadowlands,” Ritsu says, with a slow, unrepentant
smile. “Why do you think everyone thought I needed a watcher?”
“Because you’re the Demon King’s little brother. I honestly don’t know how
anyone can’t tell with just a glance, you two look so alike sometimes that’s
it’s honestly scary.”
“But you said he’s not your type. But you’re mine. And we look the same.
Explain.”
“It’s a personality thing. And I like the way you wear your hair. And you’re
shorter. And you do have a rounder face, which I think is cute.”
“I have a better personality, too,” Ritsu points out. “At least, I have a way
sleepier one. And more honest, I think a lot of people care about that, maybe.”
“Personality was the first thing I mentioned.” Mao’s smile is wry, but genuine
as he leans over, ruffling Ritsu’s hair. “The honesty part means a lot to me.
I’m pretty sick of being told half-truths, nothing at all, or outright lies to
get me to do things I don’t really want to do.”
“Yeah...he’s really manipulative,” Ritsu agrees. “He got good grades in that
stuff back home. Ah...you’d probably hate the Shadowlands, I bet. It’s
all...really tall, cold buildings. And people doing whatever their great-great-
grandparents did for no reason, and never really talk to each other. My brother
fit right in, he was everyone’s favorite, I was the weird one. But then he
decided to get all rebellious and everything, so Mom asked him to leave, and I
went with him. The funny thing is, since I was never asked to leave, I’m
technically the favorite son right now, but it’s only on paper. Everyone still
likes him best.”
“That’s bizarre,” Mao bluntly says, leaning back into his saddle with a creak
of leather. “You’re right, I don’t think I’d be able to stand it at all. I
don’t think a lot of humans would like that. Sometimes, remembering that you’re
half-human is strange when you tell me things like this, you know? Because I
can’t imagine what your father must’ve been like…I always just think of your
mother being a succubus and that’s about as far as I get.”
“I dunno what my father was like,” Ritsu admits. “We were fostered until we
grew up, it’s the way...and by that time, he was dead, because human life spans
kind of suck, and also probably because Mom ate him. Succubus, you know.”
“Please tell me you’re not succubus enough to eat me eventually.”
“I mean, I’ve never tried,” Ritsu admits. “Hmm. I bet I’d be able to, but I’d
never do that to you. You’re special. Plus, it’d probably kill me, if you died,
so I’m gonna have to figure out how to fix you so you’re not mortal.”
“…That’s sort of frightening. On both counts. I would rather not be the reason
that you die, but being immortal is…questionable.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Ritsu assures him. “We’ve got some time left. How old
were your parents when they died?”
“They aren’t dead. They disowned me when I went to work for the Academy—same
thing, I guess.” 
“Ohhh, that’s good. So if you’re...twenty? Then they’ve got to be at least
thirty, right?”
“…How have you fit in with human society for so long?”
“By being cute. And lying. And being dry so no one can tell if I’m being
sarcastic.”
“Thank the gods you’re cute, then,” Mao sighs, his head hanging forward. “Ahh,
this is why your brother had me follow you around all the time, do you know how
many times I had to subtly make sure humans were looking elsewhere or couldn’t
sense the little bits of magic that you just…randomly decide to do? I know it’s
innate for you, but honestly…”
“Yeah, sorry,” Ritsu says, pretty much unapologetic. “Would have been a lot
easier if I’d known someone was looking out for me. Easier for me, so I
wouldn’t have tried to hide at all, since you were cleaning up. It’s good for
you to be busy.”
“It would’ve been easier, if I had been able to talk to you.”
Mao heaves a sigh, shrugging. “There’s something really annoying about having
to basically shadow someone off and on for years, and not being allowed to even
say a word to them,” he softly says. “Especially when you can’t stop thinking
about them even after they’re gone.”
Ritsu smiles to himself, then nudges his horse even closer, trying to lay his
head on Mao’s shoulder, then giving up with a growl. “Horses are bad. I don’t
like riding like this, we should be on the same one so I can snuggle and bite
you. I’m trying to be cute about our resonant bond.”
“It’s not practical for a horse to carry two people for so long,” Mao reminds
him, reaching over to gently rub Ritsu’s head instead, because he can do that
much. “But I understand. Ah, as much as a stupid, basic human can, heh. Having
words to explain the way I felt for so long is helpful.”
“Have you made any progress on seeing it for yourself?” Ritsu asks, trying not
to sound pathetically eager while being pathetically eager. “I want you to.”
“When I’m touching you.” Mao’s hand lingers for a moment, his eyes lidding. “It
shimmers, if I really look. It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen before,
magically…but it’s gotten more and more clear. At least I’m a fast learner,
huh?”
“You’re really smart. That’s good. Like I said, you can’t choose who you make a
bond with, so...” Ritsu reaches over, tousling his fingers through Mao’s hair.
“But fortunately, I got the best one.”
Mao’s expression shifts to wryly fond, and he reaches up, grabbing at Ritsu’s
hand. “Likewise,” he says, and even as his skin heats up, he quietly adds, “I
bet I’ll really be able to see it when you finally decide to eat me alive.”
“Mmm...yeah...” Ritsu chews on his bottom lip, squeezing Mao’s hand. “I gotta
get some advice from my brother first, on...some stuff.” Like how to not eat
you when we do it.
“Ritchan. You’ve had sex before. I know you have, I’ve helped you get to a bath
the next morning on at least five occasions.”
“Yeah, but it’s different with your resonant bonded.” Ritsu rolls one shoulder,
un-tensing on purpose. “Every wizard knows that. And my brother, he’s a sex
wizard, right? But I’m a true bloodbred. I could accidentally, uh, do some
stuff.”
Mao’s eyebrows raise. “Some stuff,” he repeats, deadpan. “Ritchan, are you
going to actually eat me?”
“I mean, I’ve had drinks from you before...I’m just scared I won’t be able to
stop?”
“I feel like the fact you want me alive and possibly immortal will keep that at
bay, maybe? Like, there has to be a biological imperative somewhere for you to
not kill your mate.”
“Oh. Good point. Ah, I still really wanna ask my brother about it, he’s got a
resonant bond with that wizard...but I’m not gonna wait six years, that’s bad.
You might be dead by then. You’ll definitely be old, like fifty.”
“I’ll be in my thirties,” Mao dryly says. “I’d really rather not wait that
long. Now that I’m not dying every single time I try to breathe, honestly, I
have no issue doing it whenever the mood strikes—just so you know. Not right
now,” he immediately warns, because Ritsu takes things so literally. “Because
we’re trying to ride horses and actually travel.”
“Yeah, I can be good,” Ritsu agrees. “But you should let me chew on your
nipples when we stop for the night.”
Mao jerks his hand away from Ritsu’s, cheeks burning. “You know, just saying
things like that is really…”
“Naughty, yep. I’m naughty.” Ritsu winks. “I’ve climbed into bed with a hell of
a lot of sweet-smelling ladies. Ooh! We should get one and share, as soon as we
start sleeping together neither of us are gonna want a woman ever again, might
as well do it now.”
“Is…is that how it works?” Mao asks, trying not to sound horrified, but sort of
put off by the idea, admittedly. “I mean—obviously, if we’re in a relationship,
I’m not going to be sleeping with anyone else, but…does it just…completely
nullify all other attraction? What causes that?” he asks, not expecting an
answer, more mystified than anything else.
“It’s a wizard thing. I dunno if you can understand, but...” Ritsu chews on his
lips, brushing the hair back from his face. “The way you interact with the
world is different. Mine is shadows, I can’t really explain it any more than
that without you being in my mind. But for some people--like, for my brother,
it’s music. So whenever he’s attracted to someone, they sound right. But ever
since he found his bonded, everyone else sounds wrong--see, we just don’t
really interact with people the same way as normal people. Did...did no one
ever explain all this stuff to you?”
“The Emperor doesn’t condone discussion, lessons, or even basic knowledge of
resonant bonds,” Mao wryly says, shrugging. “So what I have heard is word of
mouth, and very vague explanations. I know a lot about wizards, but things like
this, and figuring out how the bonds themselves actually work…that’s a mystery
even for a lot of wizards brought to the Academy over the past six years.”
“Blech,” Ritsu says emphatically. “This is why the Emperor kinda sucks, you
know. We should be able to talk about stuff. I mean, plus a bunch of other
stuff, like not letting us get it on.”
“Yeah, that’s…I’ve never understood that one, especially the whole double-
standard where the Emperor is absolutely screwing his bonded every other second
out of the day.”
“People in power are terrible? They think it’s their right to do the kind of
stuff that they stop everyone else from doing. Everyone in power is like that.
Even the ones I like.”
“Accepting that everyone in power is like that isn’t helping anything. In this
case especially, because hurting people so unnecessarily…” Mao sighs, shutting
his eyes briefly. “I tried my best to be kind to every wizard that went through
my care, but there’s only so much that can be done when I still had to enforce
rules I didn’t believe in. I hope something can be done, I honestly do. It’s
nice to think the prince taking over will do anything, but I do think only your
brother has a chance at changing this mess around. It’s why I stuck with him
for so long.”
“Mm. He should be king.” Ritsu blinks slowly, then slumps forward, resting
against his horse’s neck again. “I’ll vote for him...after I wake up...”
“You can’t vote for kings,” Mao chides, shaking his head. “Stay awake for
another couple of hours, Ritchan. Then you can pass out on me, where it’s
safe.”
“I do wanna pass out on you,” Ritsu says with a frown. “I guess that’s an
attractive idea. But...consider....I’m sleepy...”
“Then get on my horse with me until we stop for the night, because you’re going
to fall off.”
Ritsu slumps sideways until he stumbles to the ground, then hands the reins to
Mao, scrambling up behind him. “Good,” he murmurs, and slides his hands up
inside Mao’s shirt, tweaking his nipples immediately.
Mao twitches, and reaches up a hand to slap Ritsu’s away half-heartedly. “Why
do you always go for those? I’m not a woman, you know.”
“But you make cute noises and your dick gets hard, so what’s girly about that?
Nah, if you wanna talk about being a woman, talk about how you’re gonna whine
when I get in you, heh heh...”
“I’m going to leave you here in the woods,” Mao mutters, pulling Ritsu’s horse
closer to him as he quickens their pace. “Who says you’re going to be the one
putting it in?”
“Um, I say it?” Ritsu grins, and nuzzles into Mao’s neck, licking a stripe up
the side. “Just let me do it once. If you hate it, you can put it in me until
you die of old age next year.”
“When you lick me like that, it feels like you’re trying to tenderize me,” Mao
groans, but he still finds himself trying not to shiver and failing as he
reaches up to swat Ritsu away. “Fine, fine, whatever, just—go to sleep, you
brat. I’ll wake you up when you need to act respectable in public.”
Ritsu can’t help himself, and he takes a little nip, his fangs just barely
nicking the skin of Mao’s neck. “You always take care of me,” he murmurs, and
promptly falls asleep.
***** Chapter 39 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
Traveling wide open roads has always sounded like a lot of fun to Leo.
Traveling alone has always sounded even better--without a retinue, without
guards, without wagons and caravans, it sounds like the closest thing to
freedom he’s ever experienced.
In practice, traveling alone makes him jumpy, nervous, and lonely. Every sound
makes him absolutely certain that he’s about to be set upon by his father’s
soldiers, that he’s been found out at last.
Just one more league. It’s what he tells himself over and over, even when he’s
drifting off against Tempo’s neck, causing the poor thing to veer to the side.
After the third time, he finally slides off, walking alongside his horse to
keep from falling asleep. That’s how he stumbles upon a small camp, two men
huddled around a campfire, arms around each other. “Oh. Um, hello?” he calls,
glad his cloak is hiding his hair from immediate view.
Ritsu blinks up, arm around Mao’s waist. His other hand drops to his waist, and
a dagger’s hilt. “There’s someone here. Deal with it, okay? I’m sleepy.”
Reflex makes Mao reach out magically first. Not a wizard, thankfully, and what
little magical residue he can feel on he person makes him frown. “Just stay
here,” he reassures Ritsu, sliding away to climb to his feet. “Hello,” he
offers in return, gaze sliding from the man to his horse, which is clearly from
expensive stock. “If you want to stop here for the night, I’ll need you to
state your name and reason for traveling. In accordance with Academy rules,
only approved guests can be near my charge.” It’s a good way to weed out just
about anyone—nobles immediately announce themselves, commoners tend to be too
nervous, and thieves with any amount of sense turn and leave, uninterested in
dealing with someone with a wizard.
“Ah! I remember you!” Leo’s eyes go wide, and his self-preservation from his
last few months of being on the run can’t begin to overwhelm a lifetime of
training for the throne--and besides, he knows this guy. “You’re the intern
from the Academy, aren’t you? Keito’s assistant?”
“I…I’m not an intern,” Mao manages, taken aback, but he takes a moment to
further look at the man’s face, and—shit. “Your Highness? What are you…are you
traveling alone?”
“Yes! They’ll never expect it, haha!” Leo throws back his hood, hoping audacity
will keep him safe. “And by they, I mean your masters. Well, technically, I’m
not at war with the Academy. In fact, right now they’re on my side!”
“That’s nothing to be proud of,” Ritsu says dryly, resting his head on Mao’s
shoulder.
Mao heaves a sigh and settles back down, shaking his head. This is one more
thing he didn’t want to deal with, but here they are, for better or for worse.
“I’m no longer working for the Academy, Your Highness, so perhaps announcing
things like that is unwise,” he dryly says. “I regret to inform you—if you
assume the Academy is on your side at any point, you’re mistaken.”
“Well, the Emperor, at any rate,” Leo clarifies. “He’s sworn to work with me on
my most important issue. And if you’ve left the Academy, you’re probably a good
guy, in my book. Can I share your fire?”
“Your logic makes me sleepy.”
“The Emperor doesn’t know what the word ‘sworn’ means,” Mao wearily says, and
waves a hand, gesturing Leo over. “By all means, Your Highness. Your endless
optimism is endearing.”
Leo flops down into a crosslegged sprawl, beaming at his newfound companions.
“I do hope so, it’s my greatest renewable resource! But even the Emperor can’t
betray a blood pact.”
“Wrong,” Ritsu says through a yawn. “But cute. I see why Izumi likes you.”
Mao grimaces, tossing over a skin of water. “We have wine, too, which you might
want after this conversation. Blood pacts only bind those that are fully
human…or, well, human to a certain degree,” he hedges. “Experiments have been
conducted with those of diluted blood, one-sixteenth and more, and blood pacts
have still been found effective.”
The bottom drops out of Leo’s stomach. He looks from Mao to Ritsu for
confirmation, and his face changes into a mask of dismay. Then he lets out a
laugh, falling back on his hands, his whole body quaking with mirth. “Of
course! Of course he was lying, of course he was, it would have been way too
easy!”
“You don’t look like you killed a kid,” Ritsu says slyly. “How was he?”
Leo wipes a tear from his eye, chest heaving. “Oh, man. Yeah. I should really
have expected this.”
“We have wine,” Mao repeats, shaking his head as he fishes it out. “I’m going
to assume you’ve never had the pleasure of meeting the Demon King, Your
Highness, and being briefed on what a snake the Emperor has a tendency to be.
My apologies, he truly has a bad personality. Ah, my name is Mao, by the way.”
“A pleasure,” Leo assures him, with a little bow. “Thank you for the wine. And
this was my second meeting with the Emperor--I didn’t expect him to be
so...ah...youthful!”
“That’s a word for it. Hey, Mao, he thinks the Emperor is youthful. I bet we
could get this guy to do anything.”
“Be nice,” Mao chides, shaking his head as he passes the wine to Leo and lean
back, hands on his knees. He’s not interested in introducing Ritsu just yet—as
genuine as the prince seems to be, he’s still in the Emperor’s bed (quite
literally) and Mao isn’t interested in taking chances with that. “Forgive me,
but you don’t seem to know very much about the Emperor. Why were you seeking
him out in the first place?”
“He’s looking for the Quorum,” Ritsu says suddenly, eyes widening as he figures
it out. “The King Killers, right? Shit...that hasn’t happened in like, hundreds
of years?”
Leo jerks his head in a nod. “I’m on my way to the Merchant’s guild now to talk
to their leader. I already secured the Captain of the Kingsguard--ah, sort of,
at any rate. I...I thought I had the Emperor’s vote. But I still haven’t ruled
that out!”
“If you do what he wants, you’ll have his vote,” Mao says. “Otherwise, look
forward to him laughing in your face. Sorry, I don’t mean to be pessimistic,
but he is absolutely toying with you. He’s bored and you’re probably a good
source of entertainment right now, while the Faerie recovers.”
“You know,” Leo says conversationally, “that was kind of what I figured would
be the case before I went to see him, so really, I’m in basically the same
place as before.”
“But with a sorer arse,” Ritsu mutters, and Leo’s ears turn pink.
“Shush, don’t talk to a prince like that,” Mao mutters, pinching Ritsu’s ass in
reprimand. “Your Highness, I highly recommend you rethink your plans. If you’re
trying for the Quorum, the Emperor will probably pull out last minute, unless
you can outbid the king in favors. I actually suggest not being anywhere near
the capital for the next week or so, so there’s that.”
Leo shakes his head. “Time’s of the essence, I can’t do that kind of thing. My
father’s closer to wiping out the entire Northern force, plus all the
surrounding countryside and peasants, with a magical weapon. And the Emperor
doesn’t like that any more than I do, so for the moment, I think he’ll sway my
way even without the blood pact.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Mao patiently says, but he does take the wine
back for his own drinking purposes. “Stay away from the capital. The only
reason we’re going back is to warn certain people to do the same.”
“Thanks for the advice,” Leo says with a sigh, “but personal safety cannot be a
public leader’s primary concern. If I’m to be king someday, I don’t deserve to
be any less safe than the rest of my people, you know? So I’ll protect them.
I’ll stop my father face to face if I have to--it’ll just be a lot easier with
the Quorum.”
Ritsu shifts, extending a mental tendril towards the forest, where he still
feels the presence of the little fox spirits. His shadow presence nudges one of
them, as he stands. “I’m gonna go take a leak in the woods,” he announces, and
wanders over towards the trees.
Mao watches Ritsu for a moment, then sighs, shaking his head as he downs
another mouthful of wine. “Let me be blunt, Your Highness,” he quietly says.
“The Demon King’s plans at this point couldn’t be any more obvious. He’ll have
your father killed as soon as he’s finished with his overhaul of the Academy.
We’re giving that another couple of days, which is why we’re hurrying back.” He
leans forward, eyes lidded. “The only reason to keep up the work with the
Quorum at this point is to look unaffiliated with the current king…but then you
risk looking too affiliated with the Emperor, and…I’m not sure you’ll be spared
for that.”
“If his plan is to kill the king of our country because of a personal
vendetta,” Leo says softly, staring into the fire, “and replace it with nothing
but chaos, or seize control for a warring political agenda, then I’ll have to
be his enemy. I don’t want to. I like him as a person. And before you say
anything, it has nothing to do with me wanting to preserve my family’s
bloodline. I just want the country to be ruled by a person, or group of people,
that has its people’s best interests at heart. Does he want to be king?”
“I don’t know,” Mao confesses softly. “All I know…is that while he’s not a bad
person, he’s…focused on one thing, and only one thing.”
“If that thing is wanting a fairer, more inclusive country, he wants me in
power, and he’s my friend,” Leo says frankly. “If that thing is wanting power
at all costs, then he’s my enemy. I’ll need to talk to him about all this, of
course, but...you seem to be his confidante, so if you have any insights for
me, I’d like to hear it.”
“I’m not his confidante, just…someone that’s worked for him for a long while.”
Mao hesitates, glancing back into the woods, making sure he can still feel the
low thrum of Ritsu’s magic before he glances back to Leo. “He wants the former,
I truly think he does—but I also think he’s less concerned with that happening
first and foremost. I think he mostly wants the Emperor dead, or at the very
least, completely and utterly stripped of power.” He grimaces. “There was an
incident, years back, that brought all of this resentment to a head.”
Leo’s eyes widen. He leans forward, reaching into his pack to pull out a packet
of nuts, offering Mao a handful. “Food for story? I only really know what
people have told me, about both of them.”
“If you don’t spend a lot of time around wizards, you would never hear about
this,” Mao agrees wryly, and he takes the offered handful while passing over
the wine skin. “Thank you. How much do you know about the Demon King in
general? He used to be willingly a part of the Academy, did you know that
much?”
Leo nods slowly. “I think...I think I knew that. I know he’s old? And that he
came from the Shadowlands, and he had something to do with the Academy--
I remember my father saying he was a dangerous Nightcloak, but he probably died
about six years ago. I met him a few months ago, but I didn’t know who he was,
and then when I found out, we didn’t talk much about him.”
Mao nods, popping a nut into his mouth. “Years and years ago—I don’t know how
long ago, he changes the story every time depending on if he’s feeling old and
sad about it—he helped form the Academy into what it is now…more or less. He
and the Emperor had a lot of disagreements about things and how it should be
run. This all ended with a power struggle, and the Demon King leaving, and
distancing himself entirely…until about six years ago.”
The fire crackles loudly. Mao shifts, leaning back. “Officially, there are
exactly four Nightcloaks,” he says. “The Demon King found a fifth that he
didn’t report. A prophet, that led him back to the Academy. He went there
underneath the guise of guest teaching. That’s where he met His Excellency, the
Nightcloak Shu, and they immediately formed a resonant bond.”
“I heard a little something about that,” Leo says slowly, mind churning to keep
up with all the new information. “And from the way they embraced when they
finally got back together, I’m guessing their parting wasn’t exactly of
choice?”
“No, and that would be…the incident.” Mao holds up three fingers. “Three things
for you to know before I go into this. One, the Demon King is a sex wizard.
That means he draws power explicitly from having sex. Previous to being bonded,
he had run around as he pleased, having all the sex he wanted and being
incredibly powerful because of it. Two, this can’t be monitored, and things
that can’t be controlled really piss the Emperor off. Thus, the ‘no sex ever’
rule for wizards these days, just in case they end up being like the Demon
King. And finally, three…sex with their bonded for a sex wizard…is like adding
oil to a fire. Not only does it spread further and faster, but normal means
can’t put it out. So of course, the Demon King would become far too powerful
for the Emperor to be comfortable with.”
Mao sighs. “The Demon King, of course, had to climb into Shu’s bed. I don’t
know what it even entailed—certainly nothing in its entirety, or we wouldn’t be
having this conversation right now—but it was interrupted, whatever it was. Rei
fled, because he had no choice, and Shu was apprehended and submitted for
reeducation, because this was an obvious and egregious disregard of the rules.
Prior to this, the idea of a Nightcloak being reeducated…it was simply unheard
of, but the Emperor made an example of him.” Mao swallows, shaking his head.
“Openly, and deliberately. Reeducation can be many things, depending on the
offense; in this case, I can’t even imagine how humiliating it must have been.
His Excellency refused to back down, which just made the Emperor punish him
even more, and…and he’s never been he same since.”
Leo stares into the fire, as if he can see the images of whatever Mao describes
in its depths. “What is reeducation? I’ve heard it mentioned in passing once or
twice, but no one’s ever told me what it’s like. I assumed it was just torture,
but...you make it sound like more.”
“It depends on the offense committed.” Mao’s mouth twists. “There are…almost
innumerable rules that the Emperor has implemented as a part of the Academy’s
training. Wizards typically have to train and learn for about a decade to pass
all of the tests set before them—most of them aren’t even necessarily magical.
One of the most common reeducation tasks…is based on sexual arousal, which, of
course, is explicitly banned. To ‘train’ it out of wizards, they’re tested all
the time—a pretty maid showing up at their door and flirting, cute boys left in
their bed…you name it. It’s designed to have them fail, because the Emperor is
a sadist.”
It’s said casually, but Mao bites down far too hard into a nut after that. “In
His Excellency’s case…I don’t know the full extent of it, but I do know at one
point, the Emperor repeatedly bombarded his mind with images of the Demon King,
wanting to see if he could, I don’t know, put a stop to how turned on he was
whenever Rei was around. Ridiculous, humiliating. I wish I could say that was
the worst of it.” Mao swallows, glancing aside. “Then he tried to break their
bond. I’ve…seen him do that before, as casually as anything. The backlash from
this attempt, though…the Emperor was bedridden, and His Excellency…he locked
himself away for months. The only person that could get near him was Mika, his
protégé.”
Leo whistles low under his breath. “I’ve heard things about wizards and re-
education, but...I mean, if it’s not just me, that sounds less like torture and
more like...”
He wraps his arms around himself, scooting closer to the fire for its warmth.
If Izumi were here, he’d know what to do. If Izumi were here, he’d know what to
say, he’d know how to say a few words, refocus them, and set off again full of
purpose.I miss you, he thinks, as if Izumi could hear him. I know who I am, but
I keep forgetting who I want to be without you.
He wipes his hands down his face. “The Emperor really needs to be stopped,
doesn’t he? I thought I could work with him, but...what would you do, with the
Academy?”
Mao holds his hands up, shaking his head. “I’m the wrong person to ask. For
years, I’ve been a transporter and inquisitor for the Academy. You’ve probably
heard the slang ‘magic sniffer’—I’m as good at that as it comes, for a human,
which means I’ve had to report some things that I’d never want to mention
otherwise. I’m too sympathetic, and if it were up to me, I’d have every single
wizard released on the spot, even the dangerous ones that the Emperor deems
‘impossible.’ Did you know he decided Mika was like that? Even when all it took
to have him act like a normal human being was someone being kind to him? I
watched that as it unfolded, and that’s just one case out of many.”
Leo grimaces. “There’s no oversight,” he admits. “There was a contract put into
place like thirty years ago, which states that all wizards are essentially
citizens of the Academy, separate from my father’s realm. I have...kind of a
plan, to force the Emperor’s hand, but I’m not entirely sure it’ll work. But
even if it does...he doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would take it
lying down. But--you know the Demon King closely? What do you think he cares
about more, the wizards, or the others? Do you think...maybe if he and I both
succeed at toppling our predecessors, he’d want to rule the Academy, and me the
throne?”
“Wizards, any day of the week,” Mao answers without batting an eye. “I think,
at one point, he wanted to take over the Academy—but that’s going to be a hard
sell for you now. The Emperor has turned much of the Academy against him, and
his closest associates keep selling the Demon King as the problem. Because of
that, I honestly think he just wants to grab up his lover and disappear…but not
before he destroys every single bit of the Emperor’s work.”
Leo clenches his fists, his stomach in knots. “I just...want to build something
better than we have now,” he whispers. “I want to be around people who want to
make things better, I want--I want to give everyone a chance. That’s what this
country is supposed to be, it’s my great-grandfather’s vision.”
“Then you need to stay away from the Emperor, and start asking the Demon King
to step in,” Mao bluntly says, taking a long swig of wine. “Because when it
comes to wizards, the Emperor has what he wants, and he’s not going to change.
I don’t know what plan you had in mind, but…consider he’s already lied to you
once, because he wanted some fun. That’s going to be a common reoccurrence,
trust me.”
“My plan isn’t conditional on his acceptance,” Leo says softly, but he can’t
help but think his ‘plan’ is too small, too stupid, too obvious, and that the
Emperor has already been several steps ahead of him at every step of the way.
“Can you put me in contact with the Demon King? I’d like to talk to him about a
way forward. When we spoke, all he kept telling me to do was wait.”
“He’s cut his line of contact with me, because the Academy had me imprisoned
and interrogated.” Mao’s expression shifts wry. “Currently, he’s already within
the Academy. I hate to repeat anything he says, but—I’d wait, until he’s done
stepping on the Emperor’s face a bit. It’s inevitable in the next couple of
days. If you want to make it move along faster, then make sure there’s a clear
path for His Excellency to get to him.”
“I am not sacrificing my country and my people for the sake of one man’s
revenge!”
The words come out louder than he’d intended, and Leo clenches his teeth,
staring down at his hands. “I didn’t mean to shout. But...I’m sick of people
telling me who to be afraid of, that I should watch my steps around so many
people and tread lightly--I’m going to do whatever I think is necessary, and if
I die or get caught in the crossfire, then at least I died doing what I
believed in.”
The twisting in his stomach stops. His chest settles. For once in the last few
weeks, he thinks he understands, and knows his way forward. “The country can’t
use a king that’s in debt to anyone, even if it’s someone else who’s trying to
do good. It can’t use a king that compromises his ideals to become king. That’s
how you wind up like my father, or like the Emperor.”
Mao spreads his hands, his expression impassive, not reacting to Leo’s shouting
or impassioned speech. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do, Your Highness.
All I’m doing is giving a vague suggestion or two. Follow your own ideas and
plans all you like, but I do still highly suggestthat you stay away from the
Academy and surrounding area for a couple of days. He’s waited six years for
this. He’s not going to stop now that he’s almost finished.”
“I’ll try to stay out of his way,” Leo promises, standing and starting to
gather his things. “And I hope he stays out of mine. Otherwise, we’ll have
words. Thank you for the advice, I hope our paths only cross in the nicest of
ways from here on out.”
“Stay for the night, at least,” Mao protests. “Traveling when you’re this
exhausted is a recipe for disaster, especially when you’re traveling alone.”
“Nonsense, I’ve never been more awake. I’m full of inner conviction, that’ll
keep me awake! Wahahaha!”
Leo climbs onto Tempo, turning her around back the way he came. “Thanks again.
I hope your travels go smoothly. Farewell!”
With that, he turns and gallops down the road, the night air whipping by his
cloak.
Ritsu strolls out of the woods, eyes glinting in the low light. “He’s right. No
time to waste, we should go. I sent a message ahead.”
“I have a hard time believing that ball of idealism is in any kind of a
positive relationship with the Sena heir,” Mao mutters, hauling himself to his
feet with a groan. “Why the rush now? What changed?”
Ritsu shrugs. “It’s nighttime, I’m feeling frisky. We can go or we can have
sex, up to you. I let my brother’s pets know about that weapon thing, so at
least he’ll have a heads up.”
“Don’t call them his pets, that implies some strange things about his other
spies, too,” Mao mutters, flopping back down. “It’s nighttime, and for humans,
that means being tired. I’m not getting back on my horse right now.”
Ritsu’s eyes glint again, and he drops down to his knees, pushing Mao’s hair
back from his ear. “Then...you want me to have a little snack instead? Maybe
from your thighs?”
Mao shivers, reflexively lifting a hand to bat Ritsu’s away. It’s not because
he dislikes the touch or doesn’t want it, but instead because it feels oddly
overstimulating. After focusing on it so long, trying so hard to see that
damned bond, maybe this is the end result. “You can…do whatever you want.”
A long shudder goes through Ritsu, and he pulls himself back, rubbing his hands
down his pants to calm himself down. “I’ve gotta...be careful,” he murmurs,
swallowing hard. “You’re...you’re really beautiful, and I just want...I just
want to not eat you. I think I’m gonna keep my mouth to myself this time.”
It’s probably stupid at best to encourage this, but Mao can’t help it, not when
the desperation is so clear on Ritsu’s face. “You’ve bitten me before, and you
knew we were bonded then, didn’t you?” he quietly presses, tugging down his
collar, unlacing it enough to give a view of his neck. “Ritchan. I trust you.”
He cracks a smile. “Besides, if I’m going to die, it might as well be because
you decided I was delicious.”
Ritsu takes a deep breath, then shifts a few centimeters closer, swallows hard,
and stops. Then he breathes in again, and carefully, gently leans down,
pressing his lips to Mao’s neck. A tear drips down his face from the sheer
effort it takes to restrain himself, and he gently lets his fangs extend,
pricking into the skin of his neck. The second the first drop of blood hits his
tongue, he groans, shuddering from his shoulders down to his toes, stronger
than an orgasm.
Mao shivers, his eyes lidding as he slowly drags a hand back through Ritsu’s
hair, gently curling his fingers at the base of his neck. “See?” he murmurs,
feeling his own breath hitch in his throat. “It’s…it’s fine. Ah…that feels
better than I remember…”
“It’s good, right?” Ritsu asks, eyes alight as he draws back, licking his
fangs. “You’re so good, so good to me. Do you want my mouth? I’d...do anything
for you, honestly...”
His neck stings from Ritsu’s little bite, and Mao lifts a hand, thumbing over
the bite mark. His thumb comes away streaked with blood and he licks it off
curiosity. “What in the world does that taste like to you to make it seem so
good,” he mutters, mystified, and his eyes flick upward to hold Ritsu’s gaze.
“You can do whatever you want. We probably won’t get interrupted by any other
traveling princes tonight, at least.”
Ritsu can’t help himself at that display, and he lurches forward, sealing his
mouth over Mao’s, licking hungrily to catch that drop that Mao had tasted. His
eyes lid, and he leans close again, hands moving to slowly unlace Mao’s shirt.
His fingers trace over the flat planes of Mao’s belly, resting on his hips.
“You’re almost...too much for me to touch,” he whispers. “Like you’re going to
disappear if I’m not careful.”
“I’m not going to disappear,” Mao says with a hitch of breath, feeling his skin
already start to heat underneath Ritsu’s touch. His tongue is encouragement
enough, when he’s kissed, but Ritsu’s hands on him—there’s that feeling of
overstimulation again, maybe like everything is happening under the influence
of very potent (and very illegal) drugs. His own hands reach out, dragging
through Ritsu’s hair, tugging him back in by the silky-soft strands for another
kiss. “But you’re definitely too much for me to touch,” he admits, eyes
fluttering. “E-ever since I started trying to see our bond.”
“It’s kinda scary, right?” Ritsu admits on a whisper, hands fisted in Mao’s
unlaced shirt. “I’ve never felt anything like this either...it’s not like I’m
an expert in resonant bonds, especially not my own. I didn’t know it would feel
so...exciting. Scary.”
A thought suddenly occurs to Mao, somehow, through the muddled haze of arousal,
and he sits back, sucking in a slow breath. “When we do it,” he carefully asks,
“are you…going to be really strong afterwards, too? Like your brother? I know
you aren’t a sex wizard, but…”
“I’m not sure? I told you, I’ve never had a resonant bond before. Mm...but I
know I get stronger on drinking your blood than anyone else’s, and our bond was
weaker then, so...” Ritsu shrugs, looking mildly uncomfortable. “Probably.
Ah...we probably shouldn’t do this tonight. It could attract some attention.
Wow, praise me, I’m being really responsible.”
“Screw it.” Mao grabs a handful of Ritsu’s shirt, dragging him closer. “We’re
already being tracked by your brother to make sure we don’t die, probably.
Anyone else that could bother us is probably scared off by that alone—and the
rest of the Academy that could cause us trouble is either preoccupied, or can’t
listen in because I silence everything.” His eyebrows raise. “Be responsible
some other time, we have a nice fire going.”
A slow smile spreads across Ritsu’s face, and he lifts Mao by the hips,
settling him on his lap. “For once, you’re the one telling me to be reckless?
Heh, that’s new...you must really want me bad, huh?”
His hands drift down, reaching back to cup and squeeze Mao’s ass as he brushes
another kiss to his jawline, then his cheek, then finally his lips again.
“You..ah…you started this,” Mao mutters, but doesn’t argue. Touching other
people…it’s awkward for him, after so many years of having to be clinical,
careful, distant. It’s always been easier to bestow a casual touch here or
there with Ritsu, but this—this is very different, and he shifts with a nervous
exhale, his hands curling against Ritsu’s shoulders. “But…yeah.” He licks at
his lower lip when he tilts his head back from their kiss, shivering when
Ritsu’s taste lingers there so strongly. “I don’t think I could let you stop
right now.”
“I don’t think I can now,” Ritsu breathes. He squeezes, feeling the tight
muscle of Mao’s ass, his own breath quickening. “You can--you can have whatever
you want, you know, I want you to be happy, I just want you to love me...”
He slips a hand around, cupping and squeezing gently through Mao’s trousers,
watching his face intently for any signs of how he feels. “It’s nice, you can
feed it to me--or if you don’t trust my mouth, you can suck mine, I don’t care-
-”
Mao bites his lip, stifling a groan as he automatically arches forward, his
fingers gripping Ritsu’s shoulders tightly as he rubs into the palm of Ritsu’s
hand. “You…you don’t have to worry about me loving you, you know,” he gasps,
his head tipping forward to thunk against Ritsu’s shoulder. His cock throbs,
entirely too interested all of a sudden, and Mao shuts his eyes, sucking in a
sharp breath to hopefully grasp at some control again. He doesn’t quite find
it, especially when he buries his face into Ritsu’s neck, inhaling deeply. “I
want you to feel good…l-let me take care of you, whatever you want…”
Ritsu curses, fumbling with his own laces to pull himself out, keeping his
other hand on Mao’s cock as if he’ll die if he removes it. “I don’t...really
know what to do,” he admits. “Any time I’ve ever had sex, I’ve just done it,
I’ve never had to work around a resonant bond or anything...”
“I’m unhelpful and have only ever slept with women, sorry,” Mao says with a
breathless laugh, nuzzling into Ritsu’s neck, tentatively pressing a kiss
there, then a long, lingering suck as his own, trembling fingers slide down.
Touching Ritsu’s cock sends a jolt down his spine, making him shudder, and his
thumb drags slowly over the tip, then down the length of it. “Gods, you’re
pretty,” he mutters, sounding personally affronted by it. “Men aren’t supposed
to be, it’s such a pain.”
“Do you...think I’m pretty down there, too?”
Ritsu looks down between them, pulling Mao’s cock free of his breeches, letting
it rub against his own. A sticky drop of liquid slides down the side of his own
cock, and he bites his lower lip, eyes flicking up to catch Mao’s gaze. “You
think I’ve got a nice one? You haven’t seen a lot...but you should tell me it’s
pretty anyway. Taste it.” He drags a fingertip across the head of his own cock,
then brings it to Mao’s mouth.
Obviously it’s pretty, all of you is pretty is on the tip of Mao’s tongue, but
the tip of his tongue is far too preoccupied to bother with speaking. He
swallows, his lips parting, head tipping forward when his tongue flicks out to
drag over Ritsu’s finger. The visceral reaction he has to the taste startles
him—it’s bitter, almost metallic, and the rush of warmth that spreads further
south makes him shift, his knees spreading further apart on either side of
Ritsu’s lap as Mao grabs at Ritsu’s wrist, dragging it forward to better suck
that finger into his mouth.
“It’s good with your bonded, isn’t it?”
Ritsu leans forward, setting his mouth to Mao’s neck again, sucking a sweet,
slow gulp of blood that makes his cock twitch hard, warmth spreading through
his entire body. “Or maybe,” he teases, voice low and sultry, “you’ve just
really liked boys this whole time...and you’re totally repressed.”
Mao’s eyes flutter with a low, rumbling groan caught up in his throat, head
lolling when Ritsu bites and drinks again. He releases that finger with a slow
suck, panting as his cock twitches, dripping when he sinks deeper into Ritsu’s
lap to better rub against him. “I…it’s not like I ever was against the idea,”
he pants out, pawing mindlessly at Ritsu’s shirt, fumbling with the laces. “It
just…never came up and I…grew up in the capital and…ah…g-gods, why does it feel
so good when you bite me now…”
Ritsu pulls his mouth back, fangs glinting in the firelight, eyes dark and
hungry. “It’s up now,” he points out, dragging Mao’s hand back down against his
cock again. “Mm...I’ve decided that I’m glad it feels good to you...it just
feels...extra intense to me. Mm, maybe if we rub them together? That’ll be
good, right?”
“Maybe,” Mao murmurs, slinging an arm back around Ritsu’s shoulders, using that
to keep him close when his fingers try to curl around them both, squeezing
slowly and feeling his breath hitch. ‘Good’ doesn’t really cut it. Just
touching Ritsu is already too much, and like this, it’s like his vision won’t
stop blurring, and his own cock won’t stop aching, too-hard, too-fast.
“You’re…so hard already,” he breathes, his eyes flicking upward briefly. “Are
you sure you don’t want something else?”
“If you keep offering,” Ritsu says with a groan, “I’m gonna flip you over and
take you from behind. And I really don’t know what that would do, so....let’s
just take what we’re pretty sure won’t kill us or explode everything, and do
the rest later? Ahh, I want to take your virginity on a bed, anyway....ahh, you
feel so nice in my hand...”
“I’m not a virgin, for the last time,” Mao growls, though the protest is a
half-hearted one, especially when he stuffs his face back into Ritsu’s neck,
kissing and sucking on pale skin in an attempt to stop making so many
incriminating noises. He scoots further into Ritsu’s lap, shivering at the hot,
sticky slide of their cocks together. “If you’re not doing it right now,” he
lowly murmurs, “then you should at least tell me…how you really want to have
me.”
Ritsu shudders hard, feeling his cock drip and leak more, pulsing over both of
them as he squeezes and strokes. He leans close to Mao’s ear, hands moving
faster, rubbing over the heads of their cocks as he murmurs, “I’m going
to...none of this pine needle shit, I’m going to lay you down on a really nice
cushy bed, I’m going to spend...at least an hour kissing every part of
you...I’m going to warm you up with my tongue and my fingers, until you’re
begging me to bite you and slide right in...but I won’t, not until you feel
empty without me inside you....”
He’s not a virgin, but the words make him blush like one. Mao bites down on a
groan, his head thunking against Ritsu’s shoulder, breath hot as he pants and
grinds forward, rubbing into Ritsu’s touch. His cock leaks freely, dripping
over Ritsu’s fingers—embarrassing, he can’t remember ever being this turned on,
let alone by something like this with another man, but…
“Fuck,” Mao whispers, his eyes fluttering he grabs at Ritsu’s back, clinging to
him with every little rock of their hips. “You…ah…R-ritchan, just t-thinking
about that tongue of yours…”
“You like my tongue?” Ritsu lets it flick out, tracing around the shell of
Mao’s ear, the tiny tip dipping into the hole. “You want it on your cock? Ah,
it’s really, really hard...maybe you want it somewhere else? Like down
farther...or should I save that for after I pull out, and you’re all messy, and
I can clean you up?”
Why does that do it for me? Mao frantically thinks, gasping out a breath when
Ritsu’s tongue teases him like that, sending a shudder straight down his spine
and to his cock. He jerks and twitches, groaning as he pants into Ritsu’s neck,
lasting another stroke of those long, perfect fingers before he spills all over
Ritsu’s hand with a last, aching spasm that rakes through him. “R…itchan…gods…”
“Good boy,” Ritsu murmurs, and lets go of Mao’s cock, wrapping his hand around
himself to finish off more quickly. “Ah...even just...thinking about
you...makes me come so fast? Always...hnn, I just wanna feel you everywhere,
you’re so pretty, so spicy, I just--”
He gasps, and comes over his own fingers with a long groan. He only barely
manages to avoid biting again, and forcibly retracts his fangs, riding out the
last few pangs. “You’re...so good, I...I love this so much...love you...so
much...”
Mao huffs quietly, slumping against Ritsu as he slowly pets a hand down his
back, curling his fingers against his spine. He’s overly warm now, courtesy of
the fire still hot behind them and the sweat dripping down his spine, but
moving away isn’t something he finds himself capable of. “Love you, too,” he
murmurs, his forehead thunking against Ritsu’s shoulder. “Spicy, huh.”
“See, that’s how I know you’re a virgin,” Ritsu says with a yawn. “You should
know not to bring up anything guys say during the act...but you are totally
spicy.”
“I’m not a virgin,” Mao grumbles, snuggling close in spite of how sticky they
both are. Not being plastered against Ritsu right now actually is an
uncomfortable thought, and he decides that has something to do with that
bond—it has to be that. “You’re so pretty,” he sighs, pressing a kiss to the
side of Ritsu’s neck. “’s not fair.”
“Yeah,” Ritsu agrees. “It’s not fair. My mom’s a succubus, what’d you expect?
Gotta be pretty enough to ensnare men and lure them back to my lair, hehe.”
“I’m ensnared. You’ve ensnared me. Good job.” Mao lifts a shaky hand to touch
the bite marks on his neck, shivering a little as he does. “And you didn’t even
eat me all the way. See, nothing to worry about.”
“If I’d had my teeth in you when I came, you’d be dead,” Ritsu murmurs
dreamily. “Or maybe you wouldn’t. I dunno. But I’m too hungry right now to
test.”
“You can bite me again later. Test it then.” Mao’s eyes lid, then slide fully
shut. “I told you before—if I’m going to die, it might as well be by you.”
“And if I’m finally gonna develop self-control after almost a hundred years,”
Ritsu murmurs, flopping down on the ground, “it’s definitely going to be
because of you.”
***** Chapter 40 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
From the Academy, it’s a one-day ride to the Capital--if one can find the way.
But from the middle of the wilderness, somewhere between the Academy and the
Shadowlands and High Harbor, back to the Academy, is considerably longer a
trip. Leo makes the trip as quickly as he can, while still giving Tempo enough
stops to keep him healthy.
At some point, unfortunately, he gets lost, and wanders off the path. Four
confusing (and hungry) days later, he stumbles back on the main road, blinking
confusedly around at the road and the surrounding foliage. He’s been here
before, he’s sure--but where? On the road to the Academy, or the Capital?
Towards High Harbor, or is he West of that? He squints wearily towards the
distance, but he can make out neither signs, nor buildings, nor the steep
mountains of the Sharps. Squinting up at the sun, he makes a decision, and
heads West. Surely, he’d wound up East of the Capital.
He sees no one for several leagues, and Tempo looks sideways at him as if he’s
starving to death. “Don’t give me that look. You can eat grass--and you have
been, you fat beast, you’re going to be fatter than Vale.”
Finally, he spots a few travelers on the horizon, and kicks Tempo into a
canter, calling out. “Hello! Excuse me! Do you have any water that doesn’t
taste like mud?”
The voice rings out so familiarly that several heads turn, but none so fast as
the Sena heir of the North.
Izumi whirls Vale on a dime, the horse obliging far more cheerfully than one
would expect—probably because it’s Leo, that’s absolutely Leo’s voice. For the
moment, lingering worry and resentment flutters out the window, because nothing
else matters when it’s Leo. “Who taught you to come up to random travelers like
this?” he snaps, spurring Vale forward to meet him halfway. “We could be
thieves, Milord, or worse, a bunch of Southerners!”
Leo’s heart leaps into his chest, and he spurs Tempo furiously forward into a
reluctant gallop. “Fate is absolutely real!” he crows in delight, waving
crazily as if Izumi can’t see him unless he does. “Ahhh, what are the chances?
I’m gonna leap over, get ready to catch me!”
“Don’t kick Vale in the head this time, at least!”
Vale leaps forward, meeting Leo in time for his ridiculous jump over. Izumi
catches him with a grunt, leaning back to make room for Leo in front of him as
he slows Vale back to a trot, ignoring the half-hearted buck he gives at being
interrupted in the middle of an actual run. “Look at you, you idiot,” he
exhales, crushing Leo to his chest with one arm, unable to even look him in the
eye for fear that he’ll burst into tears. He whirls Vale around, catching back
up to Tempo, who slows to a grumpy, irritated walk, and makes it easy to catch
him by the reins. “You’re skinny and so is your horse. Why are you traveling
alone, you need a proper escort.”
“Got lost,” Leo admits, muffled against Izumi’s chest. His arms squeeze, and he
inhales a deep, ragged breath. “You’re...oh, god, I can’t--I can’t do this, I
can’t live away from you for so long, I, I love you so much, you were right
about everything, did you get my gift?”
Izumi pulls Vale down to a walk, cradling Leo firmly against his chest still.
His heart thumps too-hard, too-fast, and he can’t resist the aching relief that
slides through him, no matter how the logical part of his brain tells him it’s
stupid. This has happened before, he’s trusted too much out of Leo’s mouth
before, but…
He can’t stop doing that now, even after everything else.
“No, I didn’t,” he softly says, half-burying his face down into Leo’s hair. “I
left my mother’s camp barely a day after you ran off, so if you sent it there…”
Leo’s mouth twists in a grimace, but he doesn’t pull away. “Ah. Sorry to your
mother about the cleanup, then. Lord Karn--I left his body at your mother’s
camp. Well, threw him from the walls. I left a note and everything, with a
little drawing.”
Izumi’s mouth opens, then shuts, and he pulls Vale and Tempo to a complete
stop. “You…did what?” His pulse thunders in his ears. “You’re not just…saying
this, are you?”
“Hey!” Leo pulls back, injured, and thumps Izumi’s chest. “I don’t lie about
murder. I challenged him to a duel for being a scoundrel with no honor, and he
tried to run away, so I shot him. Then I tied a little note to the arrow, and
dumped him over the wall in your mom’s camp, where I thought you were.”
Izumi stares down at him, sucks in a sharp breath, and snatches him close
again, kissing Leo so hard that he’s sure he tastes blood. “Thank you,” he
whispers, abandoning both horses’ reins to sink his hands into Leo’s hair and
kiss him again. The relief that runs through him is so sharp and abrupt that he
hears his breath hitch in a sob before he can stop it, even if he isn’t crying.
“Thank you—I’m serious, thank you. Gods, I don’t know what changed, but I don’t
care, thank you.”
“I stopped being an idiot,” Leo admits, wincing. “And a coward, I think. But
that was days ago, I’ve done more stupid things since then, are you going to
help me get out of it or not?”
Tempo veers to the side, grumpily trying to munch on the sparse grass near the
road, and Izumi follows after him, grabbing for his reins again. “Obviously,”
he mutters, urging Vale forward with a shaky little sigh. “You’ll have to tell
me everything, so I know what I’m dealing with. Before then, though, we’re
heading West, so you’ve got good timing.”
“Mm, no, you have to go to the Capital,” Leo says cheerfully. “You’ve got to
fight my father’s Captain of the Guard, one on one.”
“Right, I’m going to need more explanation,” Izumi flatly says. “Because right
now, we’re heading West, to get a proper army and to scare the shit out of your
father.”
“Or,” Leo says firmly, “we can convince literally three people to be on our
side, and we’ve got my father out of power. The Captain of the Kingsguard, the
President of the Merchant’s Guild, the Emperor of the Academy, and the next in
line for the throne--if we all agree, then Father is ousted from power
peacefully. Isn’t that wonderful? No war! No weapons of doomsday--oh, right, I
need to tell you about Father’s terrible weapon.”
“Stop, stop—this sounds like an enormous, unlikely pipe dream. I love you, but
trying to get the Emperor to side with you? Unlikely, in the face of all of
this, and…if your father has a doomsday weapon or something like it, you really
should have mentioned that first thing.”
“I...yes. I should have. But I was distracted by seeing your face.” Leo blinks
up, eyes welling with tears. “I’m...I love you so much, and I’m so hungry.”
“You,” Izumi says, both wearily and fondly, “would die in the wild, left to
your own devices.” He leans back, shoving a hand into one of his saddlebags and
depositing a whole wrapped pouch of dried meat into Leo’s hands. “Please eat
it, I can’t stand the stuff. When you’re not delirious, we’ll talk more, all
right? But in the meantime, we’re absolutely going West. Oi, Kasa!”
Tsukasa’s head turns as they ride closer, and he heaves a long-suffering sigh.
“I see our prince has returned to us,” he says. “Hello, Your Highness.”
“Take his horse, would you? We might need to stop early, he needs to be fed,”
Izumi says, shaking his head. “This idiot doesn’t know how to survive on his
own.”
“‘m not delirious,” Leo protests, mouth full of awful meat that tastes
incredible, as hungry as he is. “‘m delicious.”
“Eh? Our precious prince has returned? Well, that is a miracle, isn’t it!”
“Or you’ve somehow managed to form a resonant bond,” Shu suggests, shifting
uncomfortably in his saddle. “Either way, can we please turn in for the night?
My more masculine parts are no longer feeling as protected as they were before
freedom.”
“Riding like a man is the worst,” Natsume says, joining in on the complaining
bandwagon. “I agree with Lord Shu, let’s stop early.”
“Gods, but you all are delicate,” Izumi mutters, shaking his head as he shoves
off Tempo into Tsukasa’s care. “Fine, fine, we can set up camp early. Don’t
talk with your mouth full, Milord.”
Tsukasa tsks, pulling Tempo along next to him, much to Fianna’s immediate
distaste. “I’ll ride ahead and scope out a spot,” he says, and does just that,
spurring his horse forward before she gets the idea of kicking Tempo into next
week.
Leo nods ahead of them, at Tsukasa. “He’s a good boy. Ah, wait--” He turns to
Natsume, frowning, head cocked. “Who’s this boy? You ride like a noble, but
badly.”
Natsume scowls at him. “How dare you.”
“Remember the lady of the house in High Harbor?” Izumi teases, giving Leo’s
hair a little tug. “That’s what he looks like when he’s slumming it like the
rest of us. Cute, huh?”
“I’m not—how dare you,” Natsume snaps, twisting in his saddle to glower at Leo
and Izumi both. “I’ll cast a spell on you both and you’ll regret even speaking
to me. Better yet, I’ll look into your futures and—“
“He’s a Nightcloak, apparently,” Izumi continues, unfazed. “And a complete
brat, but I can handle that when he’s so nice to look at.”
“Can you really see the future?” Leo asks eagerly, leaning way over, hooking
his foot behind Izumi’s leg as he thrusts out his hand. “Can you read my palm?
Am I going to become king? Am I going to die? Will I ever go to the moon?”
Natsume regards him skeptically. “Are you going to help Lord Rei?” he bluntly
asks. “If you aren’t, I don’t like you.”
“He’s like a cat,” Izumi murmurs into Leo’s ear, keeping an arm snugly about
his waist to help him balance. “Sharp and mean, and very particular. Be sweet
to him or Shu will round on you faster than I’ve ever seen.”
“Ah,” Leo whispers back sagely, then thrusts his hand forward again. “Can’t you
tell if I’m going to help him?”
“The prince is a good boy,” Arashi assures Natsume, clapping him probably-too-
hard on the shoulder. “As His Excellency Rei is to the Academy, so His Highness
Leo is to the King, no?”
Natsume topples forward on his horse, and hisses at Arashi through his teeth,
shrugging off his touch with another low, annoyed sound. “Reading your future
doesn’t tell me anything about the kind of man you are,” he stubbornly says,
but he twists in his saddle, sitting in it far more naturally once both legs
are on one side, and grabs Leo’s hand. “And I won’t take anyone’s word for it
until I see you keep your word.”
He examines Leo’s palm, frown still firmly in place. “Your head line is the
most annoying thing I’ve ever seen,” he bluntly says. “You’re super wishy-
washy, aren’t you.”
Izumi snorts in spite of himself, and Natsume clicks his tongue. “And your
heart line is way too long in comparison. You can’t keep changing your mind all
the time if you’re still trying to let yourself be tied down by one person.”
“Eh? Changing my mind?” Leo scowls, snatching his hand back. “That’s not fair,
I’ve only wanted the same person forever, he’s the one that keeps hopping into
everyone else’s beds.” He reaches around, pinching Izumi’s hip.
“Are we changing course, splitting the group, or what?” Shu asks, rubbing his
eyes.
Natsume stares back at Leo. “You’re an idiot,” he says dismissively, and flips
back around in his saddle, tossing his ponytail over his shoulder.
“Nothing is changing right now,” Izumi firmly says, smacking Leo’s hand away.
“We’re going to make camp, I’m going to hear what Leo has to say, and I’ll deal
with it.”
“And I’m going to eat,” Leo says, stuffing the empty pouch of beef back in the
saddlebags. “A lot. And so is Tempo, even though he’s been eating lots of
grass. I tried it, but it just gave me diarrhea.”
“Charming,” sighs Arashi.
“I changed my mind, I’m leaving him here,” Izumi sighs, half-heartedly trying
to shove Leo out of the saddle.
Natsume pulls his horse closer to Shu, still frowning, and Mika, silent up
until this point, peers around them both to get a better look at Leo for a
moment. “Yuck,” he says underneath his breath, sticking out his tongue as he
looks away.
“Don’t stick your tongue out at your prince,” Shu lectures softly. “It’s not
mannerly.”
“Don’t leave me, Izumi,” Leo whines, winding his arms around Izumi much more
tightly. “I’m so weak, I’ll die in an hour!”
Izumi remains unmoved, staring straight ahead. “No, you’re not, you’re just
hungry, you lunatic.”
Mika’s lips purse as he shrugs, not offering another comment.
Fortunately, they catch up to Tsukasa in short order, and Izumi gently gives
Leo a shove once they veer off the road, far into the woods and into the
decently cleared area where Tsubasa has already hobbled Fianna and Tempo both.
“Off. I’ll deal with your horse.”
“Sorry about these accommodations, Your Highness,” Tsukasa apologizes. “We’re
still trying to be careful by staying out of inns and the like.”
“Considering he doesn’t even know how to hunt with that bow of his, this must
feel like paradise,” Izumi deadpans, dismounting and pulling Vale’s reins over
his head.
“I feel bad killing animals,” Leo admits, hitting the pine needles with a
little oof, laying there and letting the needles thread into his hair. He tries
to get his hands under him, but his head spins, and he just closes his eyes
instead. “Where’s the justice? I can’t think of any animals to eat me
eventually, seems unfair.”
Shu swings off his saddle with a groan, and an expression of distaste. “I
certainly hope we don’t have to go that far in a single day again,” he says
reproachfully. “It’s quite...bruising.”
“Wizards are so cute and soft,” Arashi says with a sigh, swinging lightly off
of Neigh, then moving to help lift Mika down out of his saddle. “Sorry we don’t
have your sedan chair here, Excellency. Natsume, Excellency, do you need a hand
down?”
“Don’t help him up, just leave him there,” Izumi warns Tsukasa when he regards
Leo worriedly. “He’s fine, trust me. I’m a healer now or something.”
Mika dangles from Arashi’s neck, and Natsume snorts, sliding out of the saddle
with surprising ease. “That’s not a prince,” he says, regarding Leo
skeptically. “That’s a squirrel.”
A snort escapes Mika at that, and he peers over Arashi’s shoulder one last time
at Leo before wrinkling his nose and sinking flat onto his feet again.
Tsukasa ignores Izumi’s advice, and walks over, offering Leo his hand. “Up with
you, Your Highness, that’s no place for a prince. I’ll go hunt something if
you’re unable, and we can have fresh meat…which it looks like you sorely need.”
Izumi shakes his head and deals with the task of their horses—especially Tempo,
who looks close to lying down just as much as Leo had. He’s still jittery, wary
to further push any conversation along. Going West makes sense—nothing that had
come out of Leo’s mouth did, and now, with a bunch of wizards eyeballing Leo so
nervously…
Vale tries to headbutt him sideways, and Izumi sighs, rubbing a hand across his
eyes. “Arashi, I’ll take care of Neigh and the others, just bring them over.”
“Don’t be silly, I’ll take care of the horses. You have a more important beast
to wrangle,” Arashi says, taking Tempo’s reins. “And I’m not afraid of your
demon horse. Go on and take care of the prince. Looks like he needs it even
more.”
“Tsukasa...what kind of a king do you think you’d be?” Leo mumbles, not
entirely sure who he’s talking to, but pretty sure he knows that red hair. “How
about rights for moon people? Support or condemn?”
Izumi hesitates, perhaps too visibly and for too long, but he nods eventually.
“Thanks,” he murmurs, stepping away and snatching Leo away from Tsukasa in
short order. “Come on, you idiot. Let’s get some water in you first.”
He drops down into the first dry patch of earth he finds, and shrugs at
Tsukasa, who watches nervously as he pulls Leo into his lap. “He’ll be fine,
trust me,” Izumi sighs, unfastening his water skin. “Leo, you’re more
functional than this and we both know it, you already ate something. Here,
drink some water, and start explaining the situation to me.”
Leo gulps a few sips, then straightens up, sighing deeply. “All right. Pick
your topic, I’ll explain everything I can, but don’t interrupt, all right?”
Nearby, Mika has already made a veritable nest for himself, Shu, and Natsume,
and those sharp, mismatched eyes still watch Leo on occasion, disapproving.
Why? Izumi shifts, pulling his cloak around the two of them. “Start with your
father. You obviously went to go and speak to him.”
“Oh, yes.” Leo pushes his hair back from his head, exhaling deeply. “He found a
weapon that Grandfather’s scientist wizards made for him when the war was
happening. He’s planning to use it on your mother’s forces on the next new
moon, so we’ve got about a week until that. That’s why I couldn’t stop to rest.
It’d wipe out her whole camp, and destroy the land for centuries, not to
mention poisoning the water for everyone downstream for years and years. And
that’s why even the Emperor might side with me, he doesn’t want that either.”
“So I’m assuming that your father did not want to negotiate with you in any
way, shape, or form.”
“...Yeah. He basically told me that I could come back, as long as I
relinquished all power or influence until he was completely dead. And didn’t
oppose him on a single issue. And I...” Leo swallows. “I was stupid. I saw him-
-my uncle--standing next to my father, and Tsukasa’s father on the other side,
and my uncle just, he just smiled, and I thought about what he did to you,
and...”
He shrugs helplessly. “I was weak before. I thought I could make it all work
out. I was an idiot. So I told him I was going to oppose him, and he said I had
no place in his regime. But it takes a long time to confirm a new heir while
the old one is still alive, so technically, I’m still the crown prince. And
then I ran into Lord Karn, and he said things I couldn’t forgive, so...I
changed my mind about that too, whoops.”
“You can’t keep changing your mind all the time if you’re still trying to let
yourself be tied down by one person.”
 “Fucking soothsayers,” Izumi mutters to himself, giving Leo a slow squeeze
around the waist. This is why he’s never let Natsume give him a reading of any
sort, now that he’s unsealed and can see far too much. It’s unnerving. “So your
father is an ass, called that one. He wants to blow everything up, didn’t call
that explicitly, but all right, that needs to be dealt with.” He tilts his head
back, briefly shutting his eyes. “What’s this nonsense about me needing to
fight the current Captain of the Kingsguard, then?”
“Oh! Yes, there’s this thing, this ancient practice, where if I can get Sword,
Spell, Crown, and Coin to agree, we take over,” Leo says, eyes lighting up.
“And I’m the Crown. Coin will agree, apparently he’s friends with Shu, and I’ve
talked to the Captain of the Kingsguard. He says he’ll agree if my champion can
beat him in a fight, so that’s you.” Leo beams. “You said you always wanted to
try fighting someone better than you for real, right? And I’m not afraid,
because you apparently can’t die!”
“We’ll come back to that. Back up to the part where you think the Spell—which
I’m assuming is the Emperor, as you mentioned him before—will agree to this and
work with you.”
“Right! Well, first of all, I’m apparently uneducated. Did you know a blood
pact doesn’t work on everyone?”
“…Yes. Yes, I did.” Izumi swears Mika looks their way again at that, eyebrows
raising, and then looks away again. “But it was news to me not too long ago.
Why?”
“Er, the Emperor and I...” Leo spreads his hands, smiling weakly. “I thought it
would be a pretty easy way to get a vote. Didn’t go how I expected.”
Izumi pauses, and his brow slowly furrows. “Wait. You…actually…with someone
other than me?”
“...Yeah. For the pact.” Leo pulls back, hands fisting, pressing against his
thighs. “I didn’t mean to. But if it meant saving the lives of every Northman
out there, I’d...is it too rude to say I’d let the whole Academy fuck me? I
think that’s too rude, but it’s probably true.”
“…Sorry, I’m still stuck on the fact that you actually, finally did it.” Izumi
lifts a hand, covering his mouth in contemplation. “Huh. Well, shit. I mean,
I’m having mixed emotions, like wanting to punch him in the face, but at the
same time, it’s a bit of a relief, even if he obviously fucking lied to you.”
“I’m an idiot,” Leo says softly. “You can say it. Everyone else is. I’m too
optimistic, and too blind to what I don’t want to see, I know it.”
“I’ve been telling you that you’re an idiot since I met you,” Izumi
dismissively says, fluttering a hand. “Was it at least good sex? Tell me you
got something out of him.”
Leo’s cheeks flush deeply, and he ducks his head. “Better than I’d expected. I
thought he’d be cruel, but he really wasn’t, not like I thought. You
aren’t...angry with me? You don’t think I’m disgusting?”
“Idiot,” Izumi mutters, reaching a hand up to thoroughly muss Leo’s hair. “You
could have an orgy with everyone in the Academy, as you just put it, and I
wouldn’t think that about you. I’m just pissed that the guy clearly lied to
stick it in you, but that doesn’t mean I’m mad at you. You know, with that in
mind, I’m not exactly keen on trusting this whole ancient practice idea. How do
you know he’s going to follow through?”
 “Oh, I don’t,” Leo admits. “But I have a sort of...ah, I think plan is too
strong? An idea, at any rate. And there’s the fact that he doesn’t like my
father any more than he likes me, because Father is fat and old and not
interesting, and the Emperor....I mean, he’s a lot of things, but he’s not
boring?”
Leo leans forward, butting his head against Izumi’s shoulder. “I’m glad you
don’t hate me. None of this...would mean anything, if I didn’t have you.”
My feelings are still hurt, I’m not over it, I can’t quite trust you in the
same way—those are all things that flutter through Izumi’s mind, but Leo’s
right. He doesn’t hate him. That would be impossible. “What’s your idea, then?”
Izumi quietly asks instead, petting a hand slowly down Leo’s back. “Because
right now, I’m not convinced to go and fight some asshole in the capital.”
“Oh, it’s pretty simple,” Leo admits, shifting to lay against Izumi’s chest.
His heartbeat thuds steadily, slowly syncing up with Izumi’s, the way it’s
meant to. “The reason the Emperor has control over wizards is because they’re
not citizens of the realm, right? But at some point, they were. And when they
bloom, someone like Keito or Mao, a wizard adjunct, presents papers to the
king, who signs each one to turn them officially over, as long as the Academy
promises, essentially, to train and deploy the wizards for the good of the
kingdom.” Leo shrugs. “If he won’t work with me, I’ll stop signing wizards
over, when I become king. It’s our stopgap against the Academy getting too
powerful.”
“I mean…that sounds fine,” Izumi hedges, looping his arms low about Leo’s waist
to keep him close. “But who’s to say that the Emperor won’t just…override you
and take the wizards anyway? I don’t know. I’m not familiar enough with how the
Academy works. This sounds like something you should run by Shu, if he’s in a
good enough mood to hear it.”
Leo shrugs. “He can’t do that without becoming an outlaw, and an enemy of the
crown--and his magic sniffers, the ones that find and identify new wizards?
They’re not Academy property. They work for the crown. And they can be
prosecuted by the crown. So unless he wants to become his own foreign power,
inconveniently located right next to the Capital’s armed forces, with
absolutely no help coming to him from any direction, he’d have no choice. It’s
not like he can secede, wizards are sterile, they can’t have children. They’d
all be dead in a generation. I mean, it wouldn’t be great for the realm either,
but we could survive a split. They couldn’t. My ancestors weren’t totally
stupid.”
Izumi exhales a slow breath. “Maybe not,” he agrees. “All right. Let’s assume
he decides to work with you for this current situation. What about when you
decide to pressure him into changing some of the laws? Everything I’ve heard
says he’s a total control freak—I’m not trying to say it won’t work,” he
quickly adds. “Just…I don’t think he’ll step back as easily as you say he will,
so I want you to be prepared for that.”
Leo’s mouth quirks. “Honestly? I’m kind of hoping that your friend the Demon
King kills him before that,” he says frankly. “Everyone tells me he wants to.
And if not, well, then, I’ll have to get good at being a king, right?”
“Ah…yeah…I was about to mention that,” Izumi admits, and lowers his voice, for
all the good it does. “Shu’s been more and more anxious over the past couple of
days. I’d be shocked if something doesn’t happen soon. What, who knows, but
they all seem fairly convinced that the Demon King’s going to tear the Academy
to literal pieces. If that’s the case…I’m assuming your father can kiss his
amazing magical death weapon good-bye as well.”
“A nice thought,” Leo says gloomily, “but the weapon’s already made. Father
just has to wait for the new moon to use it. It doesn’t even need a wizard to
operate--it was invented in my grandfather’s time, early on, when there weren’t
nearly as many wizards. At this point, all it needs is the new moon and someone
to turn a crank, and everyone in its way....”
Izumi pats his back and straightens up where he sits, glancing over to Shu.
“Oi,” he tosses over. “Shu—what’s the likelihood of getting a message to your
husband and have him at least put out feelers to destroy a disastrous magical
weapon by the new moon?”
“I’d say there were a lot of factors involved,” Shu calls back, “but I’ve never
met something he couldn’t destroy if he tried hard. Where is it located?”
“The Capital, I think?”
My lord? Are you awake?
 “Ah, it’s so weird when he goes all fuzzy-eyed like that,” Arashi remarks,
feeding Mika a biscuit.
“I think it’s cool,” Mika says with an admiring sigh, munching away.
“Now, either way, I still think we should head West and have an army ready and
at our disposal—listen to me, before you argue,” Izumi firmly says, covering
Leo’s mouth with one hand. “Because even if we don’t have to use them, having
them already ready is a threat your father can’t ignore. Even if he’s forced to
step down from some ancient agreement thing, do you honestly think he’ll do so
peacefully? That his followers will do so peacefully? That’s a lot to expect
from a man that told you to sit down and be pretty when you returned.”
I am now, more or less. Ah, you feel very vivid in my mind tonight, how
delightful.
 Leo’s brow furrows. He opens his mouth to argue, then huffs. “You’re probably
right. I yield about that. Fine, I’ll agree, let’s gather an army. Looks like
you’ve got that part under control?”
I’m quite close to you. So close I feel as if I could reach out and touch
you...ah, if only. You’re the one with elegant wings, my own would have to be
clockwork. But enough poetry; apparently the king has some terrifying magical
weapon of extermination in the Capital. Could you destroy such a thing?
 “That’s what we’re going to find out.” Izumi gestures vaguely towards the pile
of wizards. “The West likes wizards, and Arashi. So we have Arashi and two
Nightcloaks and a Nooncloak that they just call that because apparently, he’s
too fucking weird to be called anything else. That’s a good start to convince a
bunch of people that already are ticked off, I think…combined with my mother
and her forces, I don’t think your father can ignore that.”
I know of it already. The Emperor’s little baby wizard has spoken about it
several times—apparently, his family helped originate it. It’s adorable that
they think it’ll be put to use. There’s a pause, and then—How close? I might
need those clockwork wings of yours within a day, maybe two, no more.
 “You have one Nightcloak and a Nooncloak,” Shu says abruptly, repacking his
bags. “My lord requires my presence.”
I’ll be there, my lord. I’m no more than a half-day’s ride. Where and when?
 “Eh?” Natsume is the first to bolt upright, concern written openly across his
face. “But you can’t leave, not alone.”
“Good, that means something is happening,” Izumi says, fluttering a hand.
“Godspeed, get laid, blow up the world. I can’t imagine anything else is going
to come of this, after what you’ve told me.”
It’ll be within the Academy, but there’s no need for you to surrender yourself.
I’ll pull you in and they’ll be none the wiser.
 “…Is he out of the Academy?” Mika warily asks, watching Shu with a frown.
“Master, you’re not gonna get captured, are you?”
“It’s really none of your concern,” Shu says, flapping a hand at all of them.
“All I need is a horse to get me close. The less you all know about it, the
better. Behave yourselves,” he says firmly to Mika, then to Natsume, giving
them both firm looks.
Then he swings up onto his horse without further preamble, and rides down the
road. I’m coming, my lord. On my way now.
“And they say I’m changeable,” Leo mutters, not without a tinge of admiration.
Natsume nervously watches Shu leave before slowly settling again, and huddles
back up into his cloak, knees drawn to his chest. “Nothin’ changeable about
it,” Mika grouses, flopping back down with a worried sigh all the same.
“They’ve planned on this for years, I’ll bet.”
“I just appreciate that I can call the Demon King his husband, and he doesn’t
even bat an eye. I’m still counting on that law, by the way,” Izumi insists,
giving Leo’s ass a pinch. “C’mon, make me royalty before my mom does it
forcibly.”
Leo gives Izumi a little smile, though it’s shy. “Would you believe that I’ve
been working on it? I’ve sent off a few letters to some of my father’s law
advisors, asking about how to do such a thing.”
Izumi blinks, then huffs, giving Leo a firm squeeze. “Well. Good. I apologize
in advance for my mother, then. She doesn’t approve of the match, but she can
get over it.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Mika butts in, his eyes trained on Leo once more. “But
now that Master’s gone, I can be rude. Can I give y’like, a magical wipe-down,
Milord? You reek of the Emperor and it’s makin’ me wanna gouge my good eye
out.”
“Do I really? Ah, I suppose drowning myself in that river didn’t work. Hmm.
Yes, please, I’ll take a wipe-down,” Leo agrees, splaying out on the ground.
“Do I have to do anything?”
“Nope.”
“Why did you drown yourself in a river?” Izumi incredulously asks. “How can he
possibly reek of anything, honestly—“
“Magically, y’dumb snake,” Mika mutters, a dark purple, almost black flame
dancing at the tips of his painted fingernails before he flicks it over, and it
sets itself onto Leo, painlessly spreading over him in a strange, black
bonfire, of sorts. “I can’t stand the Emperor’s signature, it grosses me out.
He sure did fake the whole blood pact nonsense, didn’t he.”
“When I was young,” Leo says, shivering under the odd sensations, “they told us
that large amounts of rushing water would cancel out magic--that’s why the
Isles aren’t under the jurisdiction of the Academy, because they can’t sense
anything that far out. I guess the river wasn’t big enough?”
“Nah, you gotta really wanna drown yourself if you wanna cancel out magic.”
“That sounds beyond fake,” Izumi says, exasperated.
Mika shrugs, leaning back and drawing a knee up to his chest to plop his chin
down onto it. “Whatever, I’m burnin’ him, it’s fine. Hey, so, fair warnin’, if
you’re friends with the Emperor, we can’t be friends.”
“Mika—“
“No, you hush,” Mika interrupts, not even glancing at Izumi. “I’m not
threatenin’ him, not yet. But I’m not fucking around. I’ll never go back to an
Academy where that guy is in charge of me, got it?”
Leo holds Mika’s oddly disconcerting gaze, as calmly as he can. “All I ever
promised was that I’d put as much pressure as possible on the Academy to change
unfair laws. I don’t go around promising to kill people or remove them from
power just to make myself stronger. I’ve made my promises, right? If that
Emperor can’t follow my rules, he won’t get to call himself that anymore--
assuming I win, of course, wahaha! Otherwise, you get Tsukasa’s papa. You think
he’s going to be better about standing up to that guy?”
Mika stares back at him, his head cocking to the side. “Tsukasa was running
around plottin’ a rebellion before you,” he bluntly says. “So I dunno. Maybe
his daddy raised him better. Like with eyes.”
“Why are you talking about me?” Tsukasa asks as he walks back into camp, a
couple of limp rabbits tossed over his arm. “Did I miss something? Uh…is the
prince supposed to be on fire, or—“
“Yes, and that’s enough of this,” Izumi interrupts. “Mika. He’s doing
everything he can, leave it be.”
That odd, two-toned gaze fixes on him for a moment. “Fine. If you say so. I
ain’t the one that was cryin’ about this shit the other day,” Mika moodily
says, and the fire dissipates from Leo with a wave of his hand before he flops
back into his nest, curling up underneath his cloak.
Leo turns guiltily to face Izumi, not daring to go near him. “I made you cry?”
he asks, that familiar turning in his stomach starting up again. “I won’t do it
again, I’m--I’ve figured some things out, honestly. I just! I have to--to see
how...uggggh, grrrr, I hate words sometimes!”
“He cries about you all the time, you big idiot,” Mika tosses over bitingly,
but in desert tongue. The inflection of sounding quite insulting still remains.
Izumi grimaces, and reaches out, grabbing Leo by the shoulders. “It’s fine,
don’t pay attention to him. He’s just cross because Shu’s gone.” His heart
thuds painfully in his chest, and his expression is wry as he toys with the end
of Leo’s ponytail. “Just don’t go and give my mother more reasons to dislike
you, all right? She fancies the idea of me on the throne too much now.”
“I can’t say I haven’t fancied the idea of you on the throne multiple times,”
Leo says wryly. He reaches out, running his hands through the long strands of
Izumi’s hair, tugging him close. “We used to talk about it all the time...you
having me on there after audience closes for the day...ahh, I’m glad your hair
is long again. Feels right.”
“Be serious for a moment, honestly,” Izumi mutters, even as he pulls Leo close,
back down into his lap as he settles down. “All we can hope for is that my
mother will be mollified by the present you left behind, and…anything else we
do. Otherwise, she’ll stay pissed forever, and she’s young.”
“Yes, all right?” Leo suddenly snaps, pushing Izumi away, standing up and
running his fingers through his own hair, making it stand on end. “Yes, your
mother will be mad at me. The Demon King will be mad at me, the Emperor will be
mad--no, let’s say the real truth! Everyone wants me dead! No one thinks I can
do a good job--everyone wants someone else--Father wants a different son, your
mother wants a different consort for her son, the Demon King wants a different
ally, the Emperor wants a docile doll, the wizards want a champion, you want
revenge, the West wants protection from Inglings, the North wants
representation and revenge, the Shadowlands think I’m a pathetic weakling, High
Harbor wants their men on the throne, and absolutely everyone, even my lover,
thinks I can’t keep a single one of my promises. I know! I know, no matter what
I do, everyone is going to hate me, I just--I just--I’m trying. I’m--I don’t
know how to save everyone, or keep everyone safe, or make this country what it
should be, but I’m eighteen, and I’m trying so hard, and I haven’t slept for
four days and I feel awful, and I just...” Tears spill down his face, hot
streaks left behind as they splash off his chin, and he looks far, far older
than his years.
“Leo—no, no, come here. Calm down, I don’t hate you, I’ll never hate you.”
Izumi lurches to his feet after him, grabbing for his hands, then his face,
slowly squeezing his cheeks together. “I’m not angry with you,” he slowly,
quietly says. “And I know how hard you’re trying. Believe me, I know. Come
here, sit down, I’ll skin one of those rabbits for you, and you can have a real
meal and a good, long sleep. We have a plan now, all right? We’re going West,
the Demon King is handling your father’s nonsense and the Emperor, and everyone
is as safe as they can be right now.”
“I don’t know if I can even...eat.” Leo sniffs, climbing into Izumi’s lap,
burying his face in his shirt. “No matter what I do, it’ll hurt people. And if
I sit back and let other people handle things, and someone gets hurt, then
that’s my fault too, and I...I never asked to be born a prince. Gods, don’t you
think I wish someone else would take over, and do a good job? And I could run
off with you and be minstrels or something?”
“You’re going to have to eat, because I’m telling you to,” Izumi says, and
firmly, but gently, pries Leo out of his lap and sits him on the ground. He
unclasps his own cloak, wrapping Leo up into it, tucking the edges of it in to
more or less swaddle him. “You’re not sitting back and doing nothing. You’re
eating dinner, because that’s what normal people do, even princes, if they want
to survive and keep doing their jobs. Also, I’ll never be a minstrel with you,
you tease me about my voice too much.”
“I already have one of them skinned, Lord Izumi,” Tsukasa quietly interrupts,
stabbing the skinned rabbit through to spit-roast it over the low-burning fire.
“His Highness is welcome to it when it’s done.”
“Thanks, Kasa.” Izumi leans over, mussing Leo’s hair. “You’re letting these
moody wizards get to you too much, more than anything,” he softly says. “Stop.”
Leo takes in a deep breath, butting his head against Izumi’s hand, letting his
eyelids flutter. “I’m sheltered, I know,” he says softly. “I spent most of my
life in my father’s palace, and only left to be fostered by other people who
wanted nothing more than to keep me safe and happy. I’m...not used...to all
these people...thinking I’m going to be terrible, or break all my promises. I
just want...to be a king that everyone can be proud of. Like Great-Grandfather.
I just...I just want you to be proud of me. I’d do anything for that.”
“Leo.” Izumi crouches down in front of him, gently grabbing up his face in one
hand. “I don’t remember a single thing about your great-grandfather,” he
bluntly says. “I don’t care at all about the things he did or whatever
impressive empire he set out to build. Don’t compare yourself to anyone else,
and just keep trying to…do anything at this point, I suppose. You’re surrounded
by people that support you. They’re just a bit more critical because they’re
just as tired as you are right now. All right?”
“I don’t think anyone’s ever been as tired as I am right now,” Leo mumbles
through a squished face. “Gah...just roll me up in a blanket and leave me, I’ll
be embarrassed about all of this tomorrow.”
“After you eat.” Izumi turns around, pulling the spitted rabbit off the fire,
and unwraps Leo enough from his cloak to shove the stick into his hand. “You’d
yell at me to do the same, and you know it,” he sternly says. “I’m not going to
travel with you unless you’ve eaten something. So eat what you can, then pass
out, and wake up in the morning ready to not cry all over the place and make my
hair salty, got it?”
Leo nods, and takes a bite of rabbit, chewing slowly as flavors burst over his
tongue, so fresh he whimpers. He finishes almost half of it, then hands it
over, smiles, and promptly falls unconscious, slumping down to the ground.
Izumi sighs, and promptly tosses the rest of the rabbit to Tsukasa. “Good
enough,” he mutters, pulling his blanket out of his things to wrap Leo in once
more, and stuffing the bag itself underneath his head as a pillow. “Sorry,
everyone. He’s not really himself right now.”
“When’s the weddin’?”
“You, especially, aren’t helping, you little shit.” Izumi wipes a hand across
the back of his eyes as he stands. “Arashi, corral your beast.”
Mika shrugs, kicking his feet slowly. “Someone had t’say somethin’. And I can
think of a few choice words, but they don’t translate so well.”
“Mika, darling, would you like to be all wrapped up, too?” Arashi suggests
sweetly, holding out a blanket. “Sounds like fun, and you won’t be tempted to
get into, ah, trouble?”
Mika screws his face up and turns away, presenting Arashi with his back. “I
ain’t gettin’ into any trouble, kara. I was jus’ sayin’ what I thought.”
“It’s stressful. What you’re saying is stressful.” Izumi flops down onto the
edge of their nest, wiping his hands down his face. “Don’t tell him I was
crying again.”
“Not like I was lyin’ about it. If I was makin’ kara cry as much as he makes
you cry, you’d say somethin’ about it.”
“Stop. Just…stop. It was better when you hated me.” Izumi stares over at Leo
until his vision starts to double. “I’m just going to go to bed.”
“The further away from this place we are tomorrow…the better,” Natsume
suddenly, softly says, curled up into a minuscule ball underneath his cloak.
“Everyone is being so dramatic,” Arashi says, hands on hips as he steals a
skewer of rabbit, popping a bit of meat into his mouth. “This is all good,
right? His Excellency is about to do something fun and finally get what he
wants, Izumi got reunited with his lover, who’s not dead or even really
inconvenienced, and our plan is still in place. The more you complain, the more
it reminds me that very few of you have ever been in a war.”
“War is fine, I’m ready to kill someone,” Izumi mutters. “That’s not why I’m
tired.” He flops back without another word, stealing Mika’s blanket straight
out of Arashi’s clutches, and curls up into it. “Night.”
“I don’t think Natsu meant it in an intentionally dramatic way,” Mika says
mildly. “He was prolly tellin’ the future. We should pay attention to that
stuff.”
“Is it always so casual?” Tsukasa asks worriedly. “How can you tell what is or
isn’t?”
Mika shrugs, and steals a bite from Arashi’s skewer. “Who knows. It’s magic,
and weird magic at that, I don’t know nothin’ about it.”
“We’ll leave as soon as everyone wakes up,” Arashi assures Natsume, curling his
arms around Mika. “Nothing like being well-rested to avoid our imminent doom,
eh? That’s what I always say...or at least, I should start saying that, because
it sounds really smart.”
“Kara’s really smart,” Mika agrees, nestling up against his chest with a
pleased little sigh. “And y’don’t make me cry all the time, so you’re
automatically superior to like, everyone.”
“I know, amaka,” Arashi says with a hum, tugging their bedroll over both of
them. “That’s because everyone else is not nearly as good, or cool, or pretty,
or strong, or good at stabbing people with swords as I am. And I’m all yours!”
“All mine,” Mika hums, snuggling close, then squawks a little when Natsume paws
his way over, burying himself into the bedroll as well. “He misses Shu,” he
whispers to Arashi, pulling his cloak over Natsume as well. “They’re real
close, so we gotta be nice to him.”
“Ahh.” Arashi brushes the hair back from Natsume’s face, tucking it behind his
ear. “Nice how? Like cuddles? Or are you angling for another threesome, you
little minx?”
Natsume promptly crawls over to get between them, then squirms down into a tiny
ball, eye shut. Mika sticks his tongue out, rolling his eyes. “Nice like
cuddles. He’s like, Master’s kid with the Demon King, that kinda thing. So just
assume we’re babysittin’.”
“I’m like, three years older than him,” Arashi complains, but folds Natsume
into his arms for the aforementioned cuddles with a little sigh. “Don’t make me
feel old, even if you’re willing to share my cuddles.”
“Only for now,” Mika grouses, snuggling close and draping his arms across
Natsume and Arashi both. “Don’t forget you’re mine. I’m jus’ bein’ nice.”
“I hope you’re feeling very squished and spoiled,” Arashi says to Natsume.
“Because I’m very warm, you should consider this a gift.”
“Mmph.” Natsume doesn’t even lift his head from where it’s buried into Arashi’s
chest. “Found the warmest spot, is good. Kitties are experts at that. Now lemme
sleep.”
“It’s a good thing you’re the absolute cutest, amaka,” Arashi says, cheeks
flushing. “Because otherwise, you’d have some competition.”
***** Chapter 41 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
It’s not a restful sleep, but it’s something.
Prying himself out of his blankets is easier said than done, but being overly
warm and sore from sleeping on the ground forces Izumi up. The horses are
grumbling, sick and tired of meager feedings on the road, but for once, Izumi’s
focus isn’t on them.
It’s on Leo, awake before him for once, sitting on the far edge of camp and
staring off into space.
Izumi heaves a sigh, stretching his arms over his head before he slowly makes
his way over. “Morning,” he softly greets, scooping up his cloak from where it
has slid off of Leo’s shoulders, and pulls it back into place before he drops
down next to him. “Feeling better now that you actually slept?”
Leo gives Izumi a small smile, not looking away from the sunrise. “It’s so
bright. It doesn’t care...that I’ve made mistakes. It doesn’t care that no one
is as good or as strong as they want to be. If I fail, if I succeed, it won’t
rise even one second earlier or later. So all I can do is try my best.”
He looks over at Izumi, and his smile widens. “You’re like that for me, too. No
matter how badly I mess up...you’re always here. I don’t know if I’ve ever
thanked you for that.”
“You probably have, but you could do it again.” Izumi reaches over, absently
mussing Leo’s hair. “For the record, I don’t think you’ve messed up yet. It’s
not like the Emperor put a spell on you or something, or like you agreed to
your father’s ridiculous terms.”
“I admit I’m glad that weird wizard cleaned me off. I mean...he could have done
a lot of things to me, honestly, but...” Leo grimaces. “I still feel like a
fool for letting him take advantage of me. And for letting Father get into my
head. And for thinking there was...anything more important than doing right by
you, even for a minute.”
Izumi falls silent for a moment, then exhales a slow, even breath from his
nose. “Yeah,” he simply says. “That stung. But I’m going to let it go, and
assume that was just the last bit of youthful idealism I had that needed to be
let go, too.” He gives Leo’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “I’ve got a backup plan
no matter how much you decide to piss me off now, so it’s fine.”
Leo tucks his knees up under his chin. “I really, really didn’t want to think
that my father would go along with all of that,” he says softly. “I...I
disagree with a lot of his policies, foreign and domestic, but...I really
wanted to believe that...if he knew the things that were happening, he wouldn’t
let them continue. I wanted to think that he...was a better person than that.”
He swallows hard, lower lip trembling. “I don’t want to have to kill my
father.”
“Come here.”
Izumi tugs him over, an arm slung firmly around Leo’s shoulders to keep him
close. “You don’t have to kill him, no matter what happens,” he quietly says.
“If it comes down to that, I’ll do it.”
“This is why I want to do the Quorum. Then he’d just be...powerless. You know,
not every country is lucky enough to have a way to remove a bad ruler. Hey...”
He offers a wry smile. “At least after he threatened to use that weapon, I know
that I’m making the right choice.”
“I know why you wanted to do it. I just don’t have faith in your father to
follow the rules and step down, you know? Especially if he’s got a giant
doomsday weapon. I’ll still fight whoever you need me to fight, but first
things first, time to show up with another army.” Izumi tilts his head to the
side, knocking it lightly against Leo’s. “I can’t stop thinking it would be
nice if the Demon King just sort of…blew up everything terrible. A clean slate
sounds so soothing.”
“But how can you know that only terrible things will get blown up?” Leo asks
with a whisper. “If people could all make decisions for each other, and always
do the right thing, we wouldn’t need kings, would we? And he seems like a nice
man, but I’ve heard from lots of people that all he really cares about is
getting revenge for the humiliation the Emperor put his Excellency Shu
through.”
“Then he’s already on the right track, because anyone who puts Shu through shit
is a bad person,” Izumi bluntly says. “Leo, you can’t always assume everything
is going to go perfectly. And if I’m fucking say that, then you know it’s got
to be true, because aren’t I the biggest perfectionist you know?” He gives Leo
a gentle shake. “You just have to trust that he’s going to do something right.
What else can you do? You can’t be everywhere at once.”
“And if I allow this to happen, and people die because of it, and I could have
stopped it?” Leo grimaces. “I just can’t think that the best idea to make
things right is to let people get all the vengeance they want. I mean...I know
this is terrible, but The Emperor hasn’t broken any laws. The men who tortured
you, they did, and that’s something I can do a lot about. But The Emperor? I
don’t know...but maybe that’s why I kinda want to leave it to your Demon King.”
“Yes, exactly. Leave it to him.” Izumi sits back with a shrug. “I don’t think
you’ve got much of a choice at this point, Leo. He’s going to do it, whatever
it is. And I, personally, am not letting you run into the thick of that mess to
stop it. It’s too dangerous, he doesn’t care enough about you to spare you if
you get in the way, and it’s going to happen either way, so just let it be and
focus on what you can deal with.” He sighs, spreading his hands wearily.
“Honestly, who the fuck even cares? Someone’s going to be on the throne, and so
long as it isn’t your damned father or uncle at this point, I’ll be satisfied
enough. I just want to sleep in a soft bed again, to eat good food, and not
listen to my mother talk about how she wants me to marry some hairy
Northerner.”
Leo sucks in a breath, and it comes out as a sob before he muffles it into his
hand. “S-sorry. I just--I thought you were going to call me s-spoiled, but I, I
miss our life so much...before everything got all terrible, even if we had to
sneak out to the stable all the time, it was good, wasn’t it? I want, I want to
care what mean things people said about us, I want to get upset when a
stableboy puts my tack away wrong, I want to feel sad when my f-f-favorite food
isn’t for dinner! I want to live like a p-person again!”
“I know. I know, love, come here.”
Izumi exhales a slow breath, dragging Leo right into his lap and tucks his head
underneath his chin. “You’re spoiled, but I think that’s a good thing,” he
softly says, rubbing Leo’s back as he shuts his eyes. Ah, a couple of weeks
ago, and he’d be sobbing like a baby, too, but even though his eyes sting,
tears aren’t interested in coming. That’s fair, he wearily thinks. There’ve
been too many of them lately.“There’s nothing wrong with being used to nice
things and good things happening, if you ask me.”
Leo wipes his face on his sleeve, sniffing loudly and wetly. “I think...that’s
what I want, more than anything in the world,” he admits. “I want--I want a
country where everyone can be mad and upset about little stupid things. Where
if you’re miserable, it’s probably your fault. That’s all I want, I want that
for everyone.”
“Sounds like a good place to be,” Izumi wearily says, petting Leo’s hair. “Gods
know I have enough to complain about on a daily basis, though I’m not
interested in it being my fault.”
Behind them on the other side of the camp, there’s a rustle of blankets, and
it’s Natsume who emerges first. He doesn’t spare them a glance—instead, he just
wanders past them, yawning into his hand as he disappears further into the
woods, towards the stream that runs parallel to the road. “Mika’s weird, but
that one’s just plain spooky,” Izumi murmurs, watching the red of Natsume’s
hair disappear behind the thick of trees. “Being able to tell the future—that
freaks me out.”
“I don’t like him,” Leo says sadly, “because he didn’t tell me if I’ll ever go
to the moon, so I’m guessing the answer is no. And that makes me really sad.”
“Why do you want to go to the moon so badly, anyway?” Izumi exasperatedly asks,
shaking his head. “Maybe ask him something useful, like ‘will I ever get
married to a gorgeous Northern knight’, things like that.”
“I don’t wanna ask about anything that I can make happen myself,” Leo says with
a shrug. “That’d take all the fun out of it, don’t you think? Ahhh, Izumiiii,
would you really marry me? How are we gonna continue our lines then, huh? Maybe
you should get one of your wizard friends to let you actually give me kids,
then we can continue both our lines.”
Izumi rolls his eyes. “I don’t think there’s magic that works like that,” he
says. “And more importantly, I’m guessing that requires you actually being
willing to put it in me, which is a rare occurrence at best. I already have
three daughters, apparently, that’s close enough.”
“And we’ll find them,” Leo promises. “I...well, not to put too fine a point on
it, but I’ve been informed by every priest and advisor that I’ve asked that
it’s not going to work to just...let men marry men. Sort of. The laws are
unchangeable that way, some weird clause. But they think I could probably
change it to take, uh, legal concubines of any gender, rather than just women?
I’m...it’s a work in progress, I dunno. I hate laws.”
“Excellent, then I can publicly be your whore,” Izumi dryly says, fluttering a
hand dismissively. “I’ll pierce my nipples and tie myself to your throne like a
whore from the Sandlands, that sounds about par for the course. Honestly, If I
expect nothing, then I’ll never be disappointed. Sounds like a grand time.”
Leo scowls, and leans over to bite Izumi’s shoulder. “I didn’t say I was gonna
give up. Father always told me that things that are impossible as a prince are
suddenly easy as a king. So..my idea of getting ahead of the game is suddenly
not totally feasible or smart, I guess. That’ll teach me to plan ahead,
wahahaa!”
“Yes, that’s absolutely the lesson to take away from that,” Izumi deadpans,
pinching Leo’s hip. “Don’t bite me unless you’re planning to follow through.
And before you do, we probably don’t have time. The spooky prophet boy said
something about us needing to leave as soon as possible last night. I
personally take that seriously.”
Leo scowls, and uses Izumi’s shoulder as a firm surface to brace himself,
climbing to standing. “I just hate knowing you weren’t the last man inside me,”
he grumbles. “Fix that as soon as possible, when we have a chance. That’s an
order from your prince.”
Izumi’s lips twitch, amused in spite of himself. “Was he as good as me?” he
can’t help but press, casting his gaze upward to Leo. “You didn’t exactly hand
out a ton of details, which is disappointing.”
“You actually want details? Of me and another man?” Leo asks, startled.
Izumi snorts as he climbs to his feet, dusting himself off. “You’ve never once
missed out on the opportunity to brag about your other sexual exploits?” he
asks, eyebrows raised. “It’s not like you’re in love with him. Go on, tell me.”
“I’ve never had any other sexual exploits apart from you!” Leo says,
scandalized. “Who’s been lying to you?”
“That’s the point, dumbass,” Izumi says, leaning over to flick Leo lightly
between the eyes. “Now you can bitch and moan about being sore the next day, or
complain about what a sloppy kisser the bastard is, or whatever other details
you want to throw out there. It’s fun, you don’t just have me as a marker
anymore.”
Leo groans, and drags his hands down his face, but smiles in relief. “He’s not
as good as you, first of all,” he says to start. “Too fast. And his cock is way
too long, I felt like he was bruising the bottom of my ribcage. Thank you for
being a reasonable size.”
“The perfect size, I think you mean, which is what every lady has ever told
me,” Izumi smugly says. “Damn right he’s not as good as me. I have to admit,
though, I always thought you’d be the one to enjoy a big cock,” he just has to
tease, poking Leo in the shoulder to neatly back him up against the trunk of a
tree. “You certainly like talking about how it’s too much, uwaa, Izumiii, not
so hard~…”
Leo’s blushes are so hot that he feels his face ache, and he slaps at Izumi’s
chest. “All right, all right, I liked it,” he admits, feeling the tree at his
back. “I...I even liked it after, when I had to ride a long way on my horse and
it ached the whole way, all right?”
Izumi’s face lights up with intense amusement. “Heehh, obviously,” he says with
a laugh, planting a hand next to Leo’s head. “That’s the best part. You’re
blushing so much, what else did he do? A big dick’s no good if they don’t use
it properly.”
“He didn’t warm me up at all, not like you do,” Leo says with a pout, feeling
his body start to warm at the talk. It turns him on more than he’d expected,
the embarrassment from baring all of this to Izumi, and his hand slides idly
down, thumb brushing over a nipple through his shirt, making him shiver. He’s
keenly aware of Izumi’s eyes on him, and he pitches his voice low. “It’s big,
and he just talked me through it--wanted to turn me into his pretty pet that
lived under his desk, you know? He got me to say it, ask for it...”
“Uh huh. He seems like the kind of guy that only wants a pet,” Izumi murmurs,
stepping forward, his thigh sliding between Leo’s. No one’s hurrying them along
yet, so why not? “Sounds like you’ll ask for anything now, though.” His own
fingers trail down, replacing Leo’s, finding the hardening nub of his nipple
through fabric and gently pulling on it. “Does that mean I’m going to have to
start keeping a leash on my belt for you, just in case?”
Leo’s knees wobble, and his lips part on a whine. He lets his head thunk back
against the rough bark, and his thighs part eagerly. “Y-you said...we had to go
soon,” he breathes, hands reaching up to fist in Izumi’s hair. “I-I’m...d’you
wanna hear more, or...”
“No one’s waking up and telling me to go yet, sooo…” Izumi grins, turning his
head to kiss the side of Leo’s neck, then nibble and suck his way up to the
lobe of his ear, his tongue flicking out to toy with his earring. “Don’t
worry,” he breathes, shoving up Leo’s shirt to properly touch his nipples,
pinching one slowly. “I’m nice. I’ll make sure you get off even if someone
interrupts us. Not like it’s difficult, you’re so hard already just from
telling me how big the Emperor’s dick is…”
A shudder tears through Leo, and his jaw goes slack, hips canting up to rub his
cock against Izumi’s muscular thigh. Just that little bit of friction, combined
with the way Izumi toys with his nipples, makes him squirm and moan. “Wish you
were watching,” he whispers, rubbing a little more, a little harder, searching
for more friction, more pressure. “Wish you could have seen how, how easy I was
for him...the things I let him do to me...”
Izumi growls low in his throat at that, shoving his thigh forward to press
harder against Leo’s cock, feeling him hard and hot even through fabric. “I bet
he took good care of you, huh?” he murmurs, his voice a low rasp as he pinches
harder, pulling on the nipple between his fingers to make Leo arch. “How many
times did you come for him?”
“J-just oooonce,” Leo lets out on a whine, thrusting his chest out, a tear
trickling down his cheek from sheer overstimulation. “He wanted--to feed it to
me after, but--I had to go, he wants me to come back, but...”
“Just once? Then he’s really not as good as me,” Izumi sighs, his fingers
dragging away switching to the other nipple, up until now neglected. His other
hand slides down, unlacing Leo’s breeches enough to slide into them, wrapping
his fingers swiftly around the length of Leo’s cock, pulling and stroking, his
thumb rubbing over the dripping tip. “I barely even have to touch you and
you’re like this…ahh, you’re so cute, Leo, are you going to come just from me
playing with your nipples?” His eyebrows raise. “Or from thinking about him
shoving his big cock down your throat?”
“Both,” Leo admits, back arching as he ruts up into Izumi’s hand. He feels
himself twitch and pulse in Izumi’s hand, so close to spilling that it’s
humiliating. “You could both--have me at once--you could show him how much
better you are at fucking me than he is--you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Me
spread out and begging, showing the great Emperor how well you f-fuck me?”
Izumi licks his lips at that, and his fingers tighten around Leo’s cock,
squeezing, stroking harder whenever he feels Leo throb in his grasp. “Do you
think you could take both of us at once?” he murmurs, his eyes lidded as his
breath escapes hot against Leo’s ear. “You already said he made you
sore…what’re you gonna do if we’re both in you at the same time, huh?” He
slowly twists one of those nipples, drawing out the arch of Leo’s back. “You
were probably thinking…oh, one in my mouth, one in my ass, hmm? Ah, but no,
we’ll both be in your tight little hole and you’ll be so full that you can’t
even move.”
“Ahh!”
Leo spurts over Izumi’s hand in a hot flood, one hand clapping over his mouth
to keep from screaming. He shudders down to his toes, going limp in Izumi’s
embrace, pitching forward against the broad strength of him. He hiccups, breath
hitching. “It’s--it’s too much, it’s so much, please, I can’t take both of you-
-”
“Sure you can,” Izumi sighs, pleased, unable to help himself from dragging his
now slick, sticky hand around to squeeze Leo’s ass, then teasingly press a pair
of fingers against Leo’s hole, feeling him twitch and squirm. “I’ll make you
nice and slick in here—and you’ll be so hungry for it that you’ll be begging
for us to stay in there for hours. Maybe you’ll get knocked up for real this
time.”
Leo’s eyes roll back in his head, no matter that he’s oversensitive, no matter
that he’s still shivering and coming. “Put it in,” he pleads, grabbing shakily
for Izumi’s trousers, squeezing and fumbling to get his hands around that
perfect cock. “Put it in me, please, just for a minute, let me make you come in
me--”
Izumi hesitates…for about a second. To hell with it,he thinks, pulling his
hands away. “Fine,” he groans, his eyes fluttering as he rips at the laces of
his breeches, pulling out his cock. He turns Leo around, yanking down the back
of his breeches as he pushes him harder against the tree, and bites at his lip
as his cock rubs a slick, sticky line along the cleft of Leo’s ass. “Arch your
back for me,” he breathes, running a hand down Leo’s spine. “Show me how much
you want it.”
Leo’s back arches immediately, and his hands drag at the bark as he moans,
cheek pressed against the rough surface. “Please, please--I can feel it, I need
it in me, I’m so--please, I love your fingers in me, you know? It’s--I feel so
empty without it--am I doing a good enough job? Satisfy your prince, already!”
“Demanding brat,” Izumi snorts, even as he yanks free a bottle of oil from his
belt and pours it over his fingers. So much for putting it in Leo for just a
minute—he can’t resist sliding a pair of fingers inside first, stroking and
curling them as he sucks on the side of his neck. “You just got done singing my
praises about how I take care of you,” he murmurs. “As if I could just shove it
in and be done with it.”
Leo’s knees buckle, but when he sags down, it just drives those fingers in
deeper, making him ache, making him clutch at the tree, biting his lip until it
stings. “Please, please, please, please--Izumi, my love, my love, hurry up and
be my bastard knight already, you take care of me so good--”
“I am your bastard knight.” Izumi loops an arm around Leo’s waist, squeezing,
pulling him back against him as his fingers stretch him wide, petting him from
the inside out as he nuzzles into his neck. “And you’re my king,” he breathes,
mouthing a wet kiss to Leo’s shoulder when he finally pulls his hand free, and
grabs for his cock, easing it to that slick, twitching hole. “Keep your voice
down, love,” he softly grunts, easing the head inside, and exhaling a long,
satisfied breath against Leo’s skin when he slowly sinks into that achingly
tight warmth. “T-there, see? I’m taking care of you, so just…ahh…be good and
enjoy it…”
Leo lets his head thunk forward against the tree, sucking in a breath as deeply
as he can, eyes squeezed tight as he squirms back. “Izumi...my love...you’re so
good...I’m, I love it, I love you, teach me the shape again, you’re--ahhh, it’s
fun to play but you’re the only one who belongs in me and you know it, don’t
you? I feel--I feel good, right?”
He chokes on a breath, and whispers, so low no one else could possibly hear,
“Y-your mare...needs her stallion...”
Izumi groans against Leo’s hair, thrusting forward hard when Leo says that. His
cock throbs, making his toes curl in his boots, and his arm tightens around
Leo’s waist to pull him back against him as he grinds forward, sliding in deep
and staying there. “You feel perfect,” he rasps, dragging his other hand up to
Leo’s chest again, pulling, pinching those already sore nipples. “I belong in
you, don’t I? Gods, you tighten up so much when I play with these, you’re so…”
“Stay in me forever, this is where you belong.”
Leo spreads his legs as wide as he can, grinding back happily, bracing himself
on the tree to help him push back more, squeezing down as tightly as he can.
“Hurts,” he groans, though his body language doesn’t say anything of the sort.
“I can’t--I can’t come again so soon, but please--please come in me, breed me--
”
“You’re out of practice,” Izumi lowly teases, his voice rumbling as he thrusts
in hard, his breath ragged when his vision blurs at the edges. Leo is so tight,
so hot around him that it hardly seems fair, and he takes his time, savoring
how good it feels to fuck him after what feels like forever. He buries his face
into Leo’s hair, inhaling slowly. “Next time I get you on a soft bed,” he
breathes, “or bent over a bale of hay…I’ll make you come three…four times…gods,
you’ll be begging for it even more, because it’s all—ahh—you need to think
about—just feeling good—“
He comes with a low, ragged groan, shoving in as deep as he can, the sticky
slap of skin together making his eyes squeeze shut as he spills deep inside.
Izumi shudders, burying his face into Leo’s neck, squeezing him around he waist
to make sure he stays buried inside. “Maybe…this time…finally…it’ll take,” he
says, dazedly amused.
“I wish,” Leo pants out, clinging to the tree with every last ounce of strength
he has. “God, I wish. I wish, I wish I could give you that. You’ve given
me...so much...”
“Our kids would be so beautiful,” Izumi sighs, nuzzling into Leo’s hair,
steadying him with his own shaky hands as he slowly pulls out, grimacing as he
does. “Ahh, that stings,” he mutters, making a face at the mess and hastily
searching in his pockets for a handkerchief. “This is your fault, I hope you
know. I was fine with just getting you off, but here we are—“
“Clean me up, I’m stinging and I’m messy,” Leo complains, making an expression
of distaste at the sticky drip down his thigh. “Ahh, I can’t wait until you’re
truly my bastard knight. I’m going to knight you the second I get onto the
throne, I’ll be the first king to have a squire knight.”
“Good, you’ve come around to that idea, too,” Izumi grouses, finally locating
his handkerchief—dirty already, but who the hell cares when he’s wiping up more
of a mess? He yanks up his own breeches and catches the drip down Leo’s thigh
before it gets too far, wiping up the sticky mess in short order. “Ah, but you
don’t need me to heal you up, do you? You like the way it feels, riding all day
when you’re all sore…”
Leo turns around sticking his tongue out. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, but grabs
Izumi by the collar, yanking him close for a kiss. His hand moves up, resting
gently on Izumi’s cheek, hoping to put some of his feelings into that soft
touch.
Izumi exhales a soft breath against Leo’s mouth, and slides his fingers back
through his hair, tugging him forward into a slow, lingering kiss. So help him,
he can’t help but extend a vague, healing touch that slithers down Leo’s spine.
It’s nice in theory to think that Leo likes being sore, but…in reality, it’s
less convenient, and more worrisome to think about. “Sorry,” he wryly says,
pulling back. “I’ll have a hard time watching you wince all day. It’s a long
ride.”
Leo huffs, but winks, and yanks his breeches on properly, tying them securely.
“I’ll probably be grateful for it in a few hours. But that doesn’t mean I’m
happy about it now.”
He butts his head against Izumi’s hand. “I really thought you hated me, you
know. That we were over. I’d do honestly anything to fix what I messed up.”
Izumi leans back, pulling his hand away after a last ruffle of Leo’s hair to
finish tying his own breeches, glancing down as he does. “There’s no way I
could hate you,” he murmurs. “But I really appreciate you proving my mother
wrong. You…ugh, this is going to sound so fucking lame,” he mutters, folding
his arms irritably across his chest. “So I don’t even want to say it. Whatever.
I’m over it. Just—next time someone tortures me and you think twice about
avenging my ass, I’m going to punch you, and I think that’s fair.”
“Totally fair,” Leo agrees, and grabs Izumi’s hand, bringing it to his face.
“You can slap me now,” he says earnestly. “I wouldn’t mind. I deserve it, I was
a weak, foolish, selfish prince that forgot what was important.”
Izumi pauses, looks at him, and draws his hand back before slapping Leo across
the face with a resounding crack of skin against skin.
“‘Bout damn time,” Mika sleepily says, padding his way past them, blankets
dragging behind him. “Mornin’, y’all were noiiisy.”
“Sorry—sorry, I mean, you did ask for it, and I do think you deserved it, I
didn’t split your lip, did I?”
“You did,” Leo says cheerfully. He wipes his face, looking at the trickle of
blood on his sleeve. “I totally deserved that. Don’t heal it until we reach
civilization, I wanna wear it for a while.”
“Kinky,” Arashi says with a grin, buckling on the saddles to all of the horses.
“Mika, amaka, we’re going to have to step up our game if we want to be the
naughty ones. Drop that blanket, give us all a morning show!”
Izumi exhales a low, stressed noise, and has to visibly force his hands not to
grab for Leo and fix it immediately.
“Thank the gods the weather’s warmin’ up, huh?” Mika hums, shucking his
blankets in short order and lifting his hair off his back with a sigh as he
stretches, unconcerned about being in the decidedly lacy underthings Shu makes
for him and nothing more.
“Excellency,” Tsukasa wearily says, cleaning up the evidence of their camp from
the night before. “Please. Get dressed.”
“Good, you two are done,” Natsume crossly mutters, returning from his river-
soak, scrubbed clean and neatly dressed. “I want to leave, the water’s cold and
it’s going to rain.”
“It’s sunny right now,” Mika complains, unconcerned.
“Not for long.”
“That’s cheerfully ominous enough to kick me into gear,” Arashi says with a
sigh, and swings up onto Neigh’s back, tossing Mika the rest of his clothes.
“Everyone ready to scram as quickly as possible?”
Leo swings onto Tempo, who dodges to the side away from Vale. “Stop it, that’s
your husband. If I can’t make two male humans get married, I can certainly do
it for animals.”
“Izumi, darling, you’re not going to let Vale cheat on Neigh, are you? How
scandalous!”
“Vale’s into all kinds,” Izumi dismisses, hauling himself into the saddle and
pulling Vale’s head up from immediately munching on every single bit of grass
in the area. “He can’t be chained down.”
Mika pouts his way through dressing, then pulls himself up onto his own horse
with a sigh. “Why can’t I just ride into the West naked? Kara, you better
introduce me as your concubine from the South.”
“See?” Leo demands, nudging Izumi’s knee with his own. “Someone wants me to
legalize same-sex concubines.”
“Surely, a victory for the people,” Arashi says dryly. “Finally, the rights we
deserve.”
Izumi heaves a sigh. “Honestly, Leo…”
“It’s already legal in the South,” Mika deadpans, pushing his hair out of his
face for a moment as he peers back at Leo. “Sorta.”
“Darling, that’s prostitution you’re thinking of, not concubines.”
“I frankly do not know the difference,” Leo declares.
“Prostitutes serve everyone, concubines only one person? I’m getting that
right, yes?”
“Ain’t it the same thing?” Mika complains. “You’re still a person with a
contract and a patron. We only got one word for it in the South.”
“Hear that, I can be your legal prostitute,” Izumi dryly says, leaning over to
give Leo’s shoulder a pat. “Sounds like the opinion they all have of me, so why
not?”
“Y’know, it ain’t like it always has to be a bad thing,” Mika says. “Y’all are
so conditioned to think it’s gross.”
“I’ve been to a number of brothels where it’s anything but gross,” Tsukasa
cheerfully says.
“You can only be my legal prostitute in the South,” Leo corrects. “They’re
exempt by way of regional rulings, ratified by--hey! You can totally pass a
bunch of ordinances in the North, we can get married and be concubines or
whatever there!”
“I was married to a man for five years,” Natsume stiffly says, looking more and
more uncomfortable as time goes on.
“That was definitely fake,” Izumi dismisses, waving a hand. “Sorry, don’t pout
at me, it was, you’re a woman on paper. And Kasa, your opinion’s not valid
here, you’re actually as straight as an arrow.”
“Yeah, see, Your Highness…thing is, in the South, there’s gotta be money
exchanged, or nothin’s exempt,” Mika dryly points out. “So I guess if you wanna
keep buyin’ the snake here every time he puts his big ol’ stallion cock in
you—“
“Listen here, whelp—“
Mika shrugs carelessly. “It’s true, though. If it ain’t legal in the capital,
it’s not legal, that’s the way it is and we all know it. You’re makin’ me and
kara here feel way less valid—and yourself, I’ll bet. You’ve never been in a
woman, I can tell.”
“I don’t feel less valid, actually,” Arashi objects. “I never felt the need to
be legally validated in the first place, so this isn’t exactly a change. Amaka,
you’re the only one here that isn’t going to need to marry and reproduce
someday to carry on a name or title.”
Mika shrugs. “All the more reason I should be able to marry you if I want to.”
“Wizards are sterile,” Natsume idly pipes up. “Maybe that means it makes more
sense for us to be able to marry other men…”
Izumi stares upward at the sky that definitely doesn’t look like it’s going to
rain any time soon. “The insinuation I’ll ever get married if it’s not to Leo
is comical at best,” he says. “Which is unlikely to happen, so whatever.
Arashi, you can have one of my kids, they’re all nobleborn, isn’t that nice.”
“Did you just offer me one of your daughters as a wife?” Arashi asks,
scandalized. “Aren’t they, like, babies? I mean, not that they wouldn’t be
gorgeous, but in a baby-way, right?”
“I think he meant as a child to adopt,” Leo says sagely. “I mean, I think.
Izumi’s hard to read.”
“What Leo said! Though now that I’m thinking about it, that would actually be a
good match,” Izumi mutters, tilting his head to the side. “The eldest one is
two, turning three—Natsume, how much older is Tsumugi than you?”
“…A little over 20 years.”
“Then this is completely valid. Andyou have an excuse for about sixteen years
as to why you don’t have an heir yet.”
Arashi makes a face. “Is this is what being a noble is like?” he demands of
Tsukasa. “Men talking about the sex their baby daughters are going to have in
sixteen years?”
“Seems legitimate to me,” Leo admits. “You’ve been a noble how long?”
“Ah, about three years...does it show?”
“You’re still squeamish. It’s kinda cute!”
“I had to have a lot of conversations about the prince’s little sister, for
example—please don’t hit me,” Tsukasa quickly adds, making sure to keep Fianna
a solid step away from Leo and his horse. “This is all very par for the course,
Captain.”
“Oh, yeah, you’re still engaged to her, aren’t you?” Izumi laughs. “How’s that
going to hold up, I wonder…”
“It’s a tragedy,” Tsukasa sadly says. “While it’s a very good match
politically, I’m really not to her taste, and she’s not to mine…”
“I was talking about how the crown is going to deal with this, but all right,
sure, we can talk about taste, if you want Leo to kick the shit out of you.
What kind of taste does the princess have, though? You’re handsome.”
Tsukasa pauses, then looks at Izumi, then shakes his head, looking straight
ahead.
“My little baby sister,” Leo says dangerously, creeping up behind Izumi, “does
not have taste. She likes dolls and hair and blowing things up like a proper
child! Ah, all the stuff we’re talking about totally doesn’t apply to my little
sister. Everyone else’s little sisters and daughters, fine, but not my Ruka.”
“If my older brother was that protective, I’d hit him with a sword,” Arashi
says frankly. “Oi, who else here has siblings? Me and the Prince can’t be the
only ones to know this hell.”
Tsukasa blinks. “Um—did you say ‘blowing things up’, Your Highness?”
“Ignore him, he’s ridiculous,” Izumi says with a wave of his hand. “Only child
here.”
“Same,” Natsume chimes in.
“My mom woulda killed herself if she had more of me,” Mika cheerfully says.
“An only son here as well,” Tsukasa says, giving Arashi a sympathetic look. “I
believe you are also the only younger sibling, Captain.”
“Mm, no wonder I’m the only one who can keep all of you brats in line,
wahahaha!” Leo laughs so hard he nearly falls out of his saddle, and has to
grab the pommel to get back in.
“More like I’m the only one who knows how to suffer for so long without lashing
out,” Arashi says with a sigh. “You’re all used to getting your way, that’s
what being your parents’ firstborn does. That’s why I’m high-achieving and
you’re all no better than your parents.”
“But my father was the king! I have nowhere to go!”
“Hmm, sounds like a personal problem.”
“My mother is the sovereign in the North,” Izumi lowly says. “Tell me again how
she and I aren’t high-achieving, you—“
“I’m marrying a princess,” Tsukasa mildly points out. “That’s rising in society
no matter how you look at it, so your argument is a little…”
Mika shrugs. “Kara’s right about me,” he cheerfully says. “But I ain’t ever
thought about bein’ high-achievin’, soo…”
“Come here and tell me again how you think you’re sooo high-achieving, you
pompous skank, you can’t even fake it around a woman.”
“Listen, you idiots, my mother is a washerwoman, and I’m the lord of an entire
dominance! That’s way more impressive a rise than nobleman to slightly-closer-
to-the-King-nobleman--or from son of the sovereign in the North to, um, still
the son of the sovereign in the North?” Arashi demands with a huff. “What does
being able to fake a hard cock around a woman have to do with that?”
“Your dominance means nothing if your name can’t continue to possess it,”
Tsukasa says, a sympathetic shake of his head following. “That’s what it has to
do with it. You’re young, Captain, but you’re approaching too old not to have a
betrothed. Izumi and I are at about the right age—for example, the only reason
it was excusable for Izumi to not have a match up until this point…well, before
this mess all occurred…is because his mother turned down every possibility—“
“She’s picky, thank the gods.”
“And because the capital was furious for years that he wasn’t a girl.”
“All right, now I’m going to hit you.”
“It would be nice if you were a girl,” Arashi says wistfully. “I’d marry the
shit out of you. We could be a total power couple. And it’s a good match, I’ve
got the money and you’ve got the name. If you had any legitimate daughters, I’d
marry one in a heartbeat. I’m sure I could make it work, I’ll have like a
decade to figure it out, right?”
“Izumi is gonna have to marry Dayton,” Leo teases.
“I’m—you shut up, I’m not marrying some ugly, hairy Northerner,” Izumi crossly
says. He sighs, shutting his eyes. “Honestly, If I was a good man and a proper
noble, I’d marry one of the mothers of my children…you know, after I slaughter
their husbands. Lady Karn is dead, but the other two…well, of course they’re
beautiful, that’s a plus…anyway, the important thing is that then the kids
would be legitimate, and you could marry one,” he says, grinning as he reaches
over to tug on a strand of Arashi’s hair. “At least you know they’re lovely,
and can’t not have my sharp wit that you so enjoy, it’s an inherited trait.”
“If Izumi hadn’t been such a terrible rake, there was talk of him marrying the
princess,” Tsukasa wryly says. “But then—“
“Yes, yes, then I flirted with the queen, and the king decided this was no
longer an appropriate idea. Tell me again how much better everyone’s lives
would be if I were a woman.” 
“You know,” Leo says, as conversationally as he can manage, “if we pull this
all off and I become king after all, Izumi can marry my sister, and Tsukasa can
marry his curvy widow. Ah, wait, no, that doesn’t work for--”
“Me,” Arashi puts in, eyebrows raised. “I mean, I’ve got some options, I’ve
just been avoiding it as long as I can because I honestly do not want to. And
I’m in love, what kind of woman wants a life without love and good sex?”
“Women who want money and status,” Tsukasa says without skipping a beat.
“Trust me, there are a lot of women that would marry you and be perfectly
content with a loveless marriage that barely involves them spreading their
legs,” Izumi dryly says, patting Arashi’s back. “You’re handsome, you’re
not…tooawful,I suppose—“
“And you have money,” Tsukasa bluntly reiterates.
“You’re the most eligible bachelor here, almost! Also, I’m never marrying your
sister, Leo.”
“Did you seriously say that he’s a more eligible bachelor than me?” Leo
demands, kicking Izumi’s ankle. “I’m the prince!”
“Yeah, but a woman who marries me gets money and status and a fancy house,”
Arashi points out, sitting up a little straighter. “A woman who marries you has
to be a queen.”
“Gets to,” Leo corrects. “She gets to be the queen.”
“Okay, show of hands, who here would rather be rich with no responsibilities,
and who would rather be the queen?”
Every single hand rises, some more slowly than others. “Sorry, Your Highness,”
Tsukasa apologizes.
“He’s also a more eligible bachelor than you, brat, because he doesn’t have
such a girlish figure,” Izumi snidely teases, leaning out of his saddle to
pinch Leo’s side. “Typical women like men like him and Kasa more, it’s just how
it is. Between the two of them, they’ve got the ‘rich with no responsibilities
and married to a tall, handsome, charming man’ appeal covered in every
direction.”
“I quit being the prince, you can all get yourselves exploded without me,” Leo
says with a scowl, folding his arms. “This is totally unfair, I’m the world’s
most eligible bachelor--I still say every little girl wants to grow up to marry
a prince. There are storybooks about growing up to marry specifically me!”
“And yet you’re unbetrothed,” Arashi points out. “So who’s the real winner?”
“Me,” Izumi sweetly says. “He’s unbetrothed, ready to be thrown over my horse
like a burlap sack and taken to the North.”
Leo reaches over and pokes Izumi’s shoulder. “I hope that pith is going to
serve you well against my father’s Captain of the Kingsguard. He’s very good,
you know.”
Arashi perks up. “Wait, there’s a champion swordfight happening and no one told
me about it?”
Izumi grimaces, brushing Leo’s hand away. “Because it’s not happening yet.
We’re heading West, and I’m dealing with that when we get back to the capital,
assuming the Demon King hasn’t blown it up.”
“Wait…against the Captain of the Kingsguard?” Mika’s head tilts. “That’s
Master’s friend. He’s scary.”
“He’s all right,” Izumi mutters. “Honestly, the only thing I’m worried about
is—“
“The fact he’s a half-blood?”
“I was going to say the fact that I absolutely slept with his wife. But sure,
thanks, birdbrain, give me another concern that I was unaware of.”
“Apparently, he and I have a common ancestor,” Arashi says with a wave of his
hand. “Sounds fake to me, but darling Mika can apparently see these things, and
he swears to it.”
“Izumi--we can’t go West now,” Leo protests. “I thought we were splitting with
them when we got to the Crossing of Three Spears, they’ll go West and you and I
will go to the Capital. Captain Arashi is more than capable of protecting them,
don’t you think?”
“We never, ever discussed that,” Izumi wearily says, staring skyward—and then
blinking when an enormous droplet of rain smacks right into his face. “What the
fuck, it is absolutely still sunny out,” he growls, wiping it off.
“I can go with the two of you back to the capital, if you need an escort,”
Tsukasa offers. “The Captain can keep going with the wizards and secure the
West.”
“Absolutely not,” Leo says, sounding suddenly firm. “If you’re in the Capital,
you’re an easy tool for them to use against me. If you’re somewhere mysterious,
you could be dead, for all they know, and they’ll think twice before getting
rid of the heir in the hand, so to speak.”
Tsukasa pauses, then turns in his saddle to look at Leo. “Your Highness, my
family has already threatened to pull out all of their funding if anything
happens to me. With Izumi’s mother starving out the entire capital, the crown
can’t afford to let that happen right now.”
“Money talks, as always,” Izumi mutters, shifting restlessly.
“Yes, it does. The point of this being—your father has to be very nice to me
right now, or else. Neither my family or I have ever been a tool for the crown
to use, and that’s not going to change now.”
Leo rolls his eyes. “You’re not understanding me. I’m saying, if I show up and
have a bunch of armies and wizards and shit at my command and you’re there,
they might still decide to kill me quietly. But if you’re ‘missing’ or
whatever, Father’s ministers and attendants might decide it’s in his best
interests to step down in accordance with the law--don’t make me talk smart in
the morning, it makes me angry!”
Tsukasa’s lips purse. “Theoretically,” he agrees carefully. “Though I worry
about the Emperor reporting to them about my whereabouts. Or more specifically,
Himemiya.”
Mika makes a face. “That little shit was at High Harbor—the Emperor drags him
everywhere.”
“So he might have seen me, and therefore, I’m not missing at all.” Tsukasa
shrugs. “If you’d like me to stay with the Captain instead, Your Highness, I
will. I’m just not sure what is more helpful to you right now.”
Leo throws up his hands. “I’m a prince, not a strategist,” he admits. “There’s
a whole lot I don’t know. I didn’t know Father would drag up that weapon, I
don’t know for sure that he’ll use it, I don’t know if he really wants to or if
his advisors have just convinced him that he’s been perceived as a weak king
for too long--I honestly don’t know. All I can do is just, is try something,
right? So I’m trying the Quorum, if Izumi is brave enough to face the Captain
of the Kingsguard.”
“Fuck you,” Izumi says cheerfully, though not very nicely. “It’s not a matter
of bravery, stop fucking saying that, I already told you I’d do it.”
As he says that, the sky opens up. Natsume and Mika don’t as much as flinch,
already having their cloaks pulled up over their heads like they genuinely
expected this to happen on a bright, sunny day. Izumi curses, and Tsukasa
heaves a long sigh, adjusting his own cloak to pull it over his head as his
mare bolts moodily ahead. “I told you last night that we needed to leave as
soon as possible,” Natsume mildly says.
“I thought you were talking about getting away from that magical weapon,”
Arashi says, wriggling out of his coat and tossing it over his own head. “Ahh,
my hair is going to look terrible, can we please find a nice inn to shelter
in?”
Leo shifts closer to Izumi, eyes looking big and sad. “You have a nice cloak,”
he says, very seriously. “While your prince has a cloak that is tragically full
of holes from being slept in on the ground quite a bit recently. And you love
your prince.”
Natsume blinks at Arashi with large, golden eyes. “The magical weapon doesn’t
matter,” he says, as if that’s a surefire fact. “I just wanted to stay out of
the rain. And away from whatever Lord Rei does.”
Mika sighs dreamily. “You’re th’ best combination of creepy and cute I’ve seen
since a snog.”
Izumi unfastens his cloak, and unceremoniously dumps it over Leo’s head. “I’m
going to ride ahead and see if there’s anything on this damned road,” he says,
and Vale bolts ahead, leaving them all behind in short order.
“Cranky,” Mika remarks, sidling his horse closer to Arashi. “It’s okay, kara. I
like it when you’re wet.”
Arashi pouts miserably, tying the arms of his jacket under his chin. “We get so
much terrible weather in the Sharps, but it’s been so mild in High Harbor, I
almost forgot about it. Ugh, I’m sick of thinking about marriages,” he admits,
holding out his hand for Mika’s. “You’re the only one I want to get old with.”
“I know,” Mika says without batting an eye, reaching out to take Arashi’s hand
with an easy squeeze, watching the rain splatter fat and wet over their skin.
“That’s why it doesn’t matter. I’ll just invent magic where I can get pregnant
or somethin’. Nnn, let me ride with you, we can share my cloak, they’re mostly
water resistant! Which I thought was a weird thing to need, when I was younger,
‘cause it never rains in the Sandlands…”
Arashi hesitates for only a moment before leaning to the side, lifting Mika
from his saddle and settling him in front of him on Neigh’s saddle, tucking his
arms around him. “You’re so little. You’ve got to promise me you’re going to
eat more the next time we get to shelter, I saw you drop those rolls under the
table at the last Inn.”
Mika loops his horse’s reins into a ring on Arashi’s saddle, then readjusts his
cloak, sweeping it around and over Arashi and snuggling back into his chest to
remain mostly underneath it as well. “I don’t want to get fat,” he complains.
“Or grow too much. I’ll get ugly, no thanks.”
“Amaka, you really need to understand that you’re not in the Sandlands anymore.
I don’t care what size you are, you know?” Arashi gives Mika a squeeze around
the middle. “You don’t need to be tiny to be cute. I’m not tiny, and I’m cute,
right?”
Mika sticks out his tongue when he’s squeezed. “Nnn, yeah, but you’re special.”
There’s a flash of light in the distance, muffled somewhat by the high, rolling
hills of the approaching Sharps. “Lightning?” Tsukasa murmurs, warily reining
Fianna in when she snorts, restless and unhappy.
“No, that’s magic,” Mika murmurs, his brow furrowing. “Ah…I wish I could’ve
seen it better. It almost felt like…no, nn, that doesn’t make sense.”
“Feels like what?” Arashi asks with a frown. “A kind of magic you recognize? Is
that it?”
“Yeah.” Mika hesitates. “Like the Demon King.”
“He’s at the Academy,” Natsume insists.
“Yeah, I know he is. That’s why it’s weird.”
“Wherever he is,” Leo says quietly, looking up at the sky through fat
raindrops, “I hope he knows what the hell he’s doing.”
***** Chapter 42 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
The Emperor has never been pleasant company, least of all when he’s angry about
something.
Rei has been able to tolerate him on occasion, but every conversation has
always ended up as an argument. He remembers that, from years past, and he
remembers it now, forced to drink tea with him when he would much rather sleep.
“This is all your fault, you know,” Eichi tells him blithely. “None of this
would be happening if you would just agree to work with me.”
“You’re probably right,” Rei agrees, because Eichi hates it when he agrees with
him even more than when he argues with him. “How goes it, rebuilding Wataru’s
wings?”
Eichi’s response is silence, and Rei wonders if he feels worse about that
comment than Eichi does, because he’s more capable of proper empathy than this
monster any day.
Above all, it doesn’t matter that the Emperor is unpleasant company. It matters
that he’s distracted, more than every, by Wataru, by the prince, by any number
of issues within his ranks. The wizards within the Academy start to talk. They
don’t know that he’s there, explicitly, but they’ve heard news of him all the
same—and, well, there’s a sense of innate dread that he supposes his kind of
magic brings. A trained Nightcloak’s presence has weight to magic users, no
matter how sealed or controlled their magic may be, and Rei lingers in his
little room overlooking the garden, watching his seal wither away at the seams.
Just another week.
Until he hears from Koga.
Ready, is the quiet press at the corner of his mind, all the way from the
Sandlands. It’s another two days before he hears from Kaoru, in High
Harbor—ready—and Hokuto, having traveled far West. Ready.
Finally, on the very edges of the Shadowlands, then further slithering into
them, his twins gently call back. Ready.
Rei casually steps out of his open window and jumps out into the garden,
nestling down into a magnolia bush contently. Go on, then.
It’s peculiar, feeling bits and pieces of his soul flare off in different
places. They’re just extra and duplicates, Rei supposes, but it’s still
strange. The West is first. He can hear the yells within the Academy halls, and
first comes the opening and slamming of his own bedroom door, shouts of wizard
guards carrying through the halls. He idly slinks deeper down into his bush.
Well, his seals have lasted this long. The bits of his soul he’d passed off to
his retainers are convincing, feeling as if he’s simply teleported to those
places as a matter of taunting the Emperor…which, he imagines, sounds about par
for the course right now.
But Rei waits, holding his breath as he hears the Emperor himself stalk through
his bedroom, cold, white fury seeping off of him in waves. “That’s enough,” he
hears Eichi lowly, angrily say. “I’ll hunt you myself.”
He leaves, shattering no less than three decorative tea cups, and Rei slowly
pries himself out of the bushes when he hears the bells start to toll. He
grasps for Shu, then, pulling on their bond, holding tight to it with a shaky
sigh. Come here, love.
The first time Shu felt Rei tug on his soul, he’d thought he was dying. That,
he’s learned in the years since, is because he’d resisted it. This time, as he
rides hard, less than a day from the Academy, he understands. He slides off his
horse, slapping it on the rump, letting him gallop away, and closes his eyes.
He draws on his own power, finds Rei with his power, and aids in that tug. I’m
coming, my lord.
Then he lets the power pull him. For a heartbeat, there’s nothing but empty,
screamingly cold space, and the sense of being out of his body, out of the
world completely. Then, he opens his eyes, no more than a blink passing, and
finds himself inside a bush, gasping for breath, tumbling against Rei’s chest.
“That’s so distracting,” he scolds, clinging to his chest, bones gone weak. “I
was no more than a few hours away. You couldn’t have waited?”
“Nope,” Rei cheerfully says, leaning back and simply letting Shu flop against
him for a moment as he pets a hand down his back. “Hear those bells tolling?
The hunters are out. I couldn’t risk it.”
“Then take me now. Before they find out your decoys are just that.” Shu twines
his arms around Rei’s neck, the hunger in his eyes flaring, something kept
tamed for so long he had almost forgotten that his body had the capability.
“That’s the plan.”
Rei rolls them out of the bush and onto the ground proper, where it’s nothing
but moist grass and earth as he presses Shu down, mouthing a hungry kiss to his
throat. “We have some time,” he murmurs, his eyes lidded, glittering dark red
behind his lashes. “The Emperor is still headed West. Then he’ll be headed to
the South, then to High Harbor, then to the Shadowlands before he figures out
that I’m playing with him.”
“That’s a lot of talking you’re doing, my lord,” Shu grunts, and grabs for
Rei’s trouser laces, finding them tied delightfully loose, shoving them down.
He parts his own robes, revealing nothing but another loose robe underneath,
which he swiftly parts as well, getting his legs around Rei’s waist. “I’m
taking no chances. Please, my lord, take me, I won’t be whole until you do.”
“You aren’t even the slightest bit afraid, are you?” Rei gasps, the
overwhelming sensation of being skin to skin with Shu muddling his mind.
Touching him is one thing, kissing him another, anything sexual something else,
but this—this makes him hungry, and his cock already aches just from Shu’s
grabbing, eager hands. He slides up between those splayed thighs, his hands
dragging down Shu’s ribs, squeezing around his waist as his cock throbs,
rubbing against the soft skin of a thigh. “Chances be damned, I’m going to
enjoy you,” he mutters, ripping a pouch from his belt to pry out the oil he’s
stashed inside. “You’re too precious not to be taken care of. Look at you, you
look lovely even with mud all in your hair.”
“If you love me, please don’t ever mention mud in my hair again,” Shu gasps,
squeezing his eyes shut, running his hands up the smooth taut skin of Rei’s
back, then back down with his nails, panting already from how Rei feels between
his thighs, from the idea that Rei will soon be inside him. He feels the power
start to tug and swirl around him, the way it always does when they start to
get intimate, but this time, he lets his own seal dissolve, opening himself up
fully. “Take it off,” he urges, hands sliding down to squeeze at Rei’s ass.
“Let me feel you in every way...”
Shu might not act like he’s afraid, but gods, if Rei’s pulse isn’t pounding in
his own ears. His magic feels ready to burst, already seeping at the edges of
the seal that they’ve both been cultivating for years, and Rei shudders, his
head thunking down against Shu’s shoulder, feeling sweat drip down from his
hairline already. “Help me,” he whispers, his eyes fluttering. His cock
twitches against Shu’s thigh, but he stills his hands for a moment, feeling
them tremble far too much.  “I’m…afraid if I do it…everything will just…that
it’ll be far too noticeable.”
For a moment, it’s too easy to imagine Eichi finding them--swooping back the
second he pops the seal, putting them both in reeducation, baring every
private, precious part of them for everyone to mock and humiliate--
No. His plan is good, it’s sound, that won’t happen again, I’d rather die.
 Shu lunges up, kissing Rei hard, hands in his hair, fingers coming to rest at
his temples. One sliver of subtle magic--he wavers--he pushes, summoning his
courage, and the seal dissolves as if it had never been, freeing the raw power
of Rei’s magic wash over him, stark in its intensity. He gasps, hands
clutching, overwhelmed by the sheer power, and groans under Rei’s hands, a
trembling, twitching thing. “Hurry,” he half-pleads, half-orders, feeling how
eager Rei is against his thigh, desperate for more. “Don’t let it end here,
please--”
There’s a moment where Rei pauses, shutting his eyes. After so long, being
free—feeling nothing but the way his magic interacts with the world, with Shu,
wrapping around and through him, twisting up until their power seems to meld
together, fused at every single intersection—it’s so much. It’s too much.
But Shu is grabbing at him, panting in his ear, pleading against his skin, and
there’s no time.
Rei lurches down, seizing Shu’s mouth with his own, kissing him long and hard
and deep, sucking on his tongue as he fumbles with the bottle of oil in his
grasp. It spills over his cock, over Shu’s thighs, close enough, and he grabs
Shu’s hips, pulling him where he wants him, slinging one of those long legs
over his shoulder as he pants against his soft, sweet mouth. “I won’t let it
end,” he promises, and he pulls a dagger from his hip, burying it into the wet
earth next to Shu’s head for safekeeping, just in case.
Then he presses forward, guiding his cock inside, and his logical mind fizzles
to a stop.
The first, aching push forward is so tight, so slick around his cock that Rei
feels the breath ripped from his lungs. He groans, low and hungry, unable to
stop himself from shoving forward until he’s entirely buried inside, his nails
biting into Shu’s hips, his fangs bared as he pants above Shu’s throat. There’s
silence, suddenly, as if a wave has come down to crush their power flat to the
bottom of the sea, drowning it, stifling it, but that’s almost a relief when
finally being inside feels so overwhelming, too intense and far too much.
The sudden vanishing of Shu’s powers leaves him gasping for air, eyes wide as
he arches back, mind narrowed to nothing but the way Rei shoves slowly into
him, spreading his trembling thighs as far as he can. Every breath feels like
not enough, every thrust feels like too much, and he breathes, breathing into
the tension, squeezing down because it feels achingly good. “My lord,” he
murmurs, slurring the words a little, everything too much, too tight, too
tense, and he simply breathes, eyes rolling back into his head. “Ahhh, my lord,
my lord--”
It feels nothing like being sealed, so much as it does being empty--and at the
same time, beautifully, brutally filled. He licks his lips, and grabs at Rei’s
hair, feeling it spill around him as he lets his head roll to the side,
presenting his neck. “All of me...is yours...”
Rei shudders, catching himself before he bites out of sheer reflex, and
instead, he sucks in a slow, ragged breath through his nose, following the pull
on his hair and sucking on the side of Shu’s neck, his tongue dragging over the
sweat-slick skin as if he’s priming it for his bite. “You’re mine,” Rei agrees
on a rumbling groan, sliding his knees closer, the rock of his hips insistent,
but keeping his cock always buried deep, barely pulling out more than a few
centimeters at a time. “Gods, but you’re mine…ahhh..the way you feel inside…”
It’s the last thing he manages to say before he can’t help himself anymore, and
he strikes, his fangs sinking in, biting down hard and drinking deeply.
Shu’s entire body seizes, and his vision whites out, his body trembling from
head to toe, convulsing in the throes of ecstasy as he cries out, unable to
stop himself when the crescendo inside him finally reaches apex, shattering him
into what feels like a thousand pieces, everything inside of him vanishing,
transforming, ripping through him until he lays bonelessly on the ground,
gasping at air as Rei strokes into him. “T-take what you need,” he exhales
deeply, voice gone low, hungry. “As--as long as you want me, I’m yours, I love
the way you feel, I--ahh, gods--”
Rei swallows hard, savoring the taste of Shu’s blood on his tongue, the heady,
heavy taste of it that leaves him shivering even when he releases Shu’s throat.
His lips are stained red from it, his tongue dragging out over them for a last,
lingering taste. “You’re perfect,” he pants out, dragging a hand up Shu’s
cheek, stroking through his hair as he pulls at Shu’s hips with his other hand,
gentling him into a better position, groaning when that lets his cock slip in
deeper, until their skin presses together and he can feel nothing but Shu
twitching and shivering around him. “It’s so quiet,” Rei whispers, the sweaty
ends of his hair sticking to Shu as he leans forward. “All I can hear is the
way your pulse throbs—the way your breath sounds—“
“You’re in me,” Shu breathes, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He
threads his fingers through Rei’s hair, pulling him down for a filthy kiss,
tongue lashing, legs splayed artlessly on the ground. “Gods, I never thought it
would feel like--this--”
A low, rumbling sound of approval leaves Rei’s throat, and he sucks on Shu’s
tongue before tilting his head back to breathe in deep. “It fits in you…so
well,” he sighs as he rocks back, unable to stop himself from gathering Shu up,
pulling him forward to situate him in his lap instead. His hips rock up slowly,
and Rei shudders, his nails dragging down Shu’s back as he steadies him. “Good,
isn’t it? Gods, Shu, I’m never taking it out…”
“Good,” Shu groans, arms draping around Rei’s neck, his entire body too-
sensitive. It’s hard to get his legs under him, hard to find a place to kneel
in the mud, but he manages, and laughs weakly. “We had--six years--to plan--
and--ahh!--still wound up--kneeling--in the mud,” he gasps, rocking down onto
Rei’s cock, enjoying it more for the sheer sensation of it and less for any
sort of drive towards orgasm.
“I sort of like it that way,” Rei breathes, sucking on the side of Shu’s neck
that isn’t bruised up from his biting, drawing more little marks to the surface
of his skin. His hands drag down, curling around the curve of Shu’s ass,
squeezing and kneading, tugging him to a better angle that makes him throb
inside with a long, achy shiver. “You..mmn…look so desperate like this…and you
smell like the earth and like me…”
“Next time,” Shu pants, trying to raise up on his knees and drop back down,
trying to move with Rei, a man in his own right, instead of just being bounced
around like a sack of grain. “Next time, just like you, not mud--but you’re so-
-much--”
He bites into Rei’s shoulder with a strangled groan, liquid spilling from his
cock in a low trickle, nothing like the sudden spurts of before. It starts to
ache and cramp, Rei in him feels far too large, and his whimpers turn to
whines, and yelps at each hard thrust. “M-my lord, it’s--it’s so m-much--”
“I know—I know, just—bear with it, I—“
Rei’s fingers leave bruises on Shu’s hips, unable to be gentle when his vision
blurs at the edges. His cock throbs, too hard, everything too sensitive, and
his ragged breathing reaches a fever pitch, burying his flushed face and lidded
eyes into Shu’s shoulder. He tastes sweat underneath his tongue, and mud, and
Shu, and he frantically pulls Shu down with a muffled groan, shoving up hard,
burying himself as deeply as he can when too much tips him over the edge,
bringing him to spill inside, the deep, aching satisfaction of that making him
bite into Shu’s shoulder again—not drinking, just holding him in place.
All sounds other than Shu return in a rush, and Rei shudders down to his toes,
sweaty, flushed skin tingling with the sudden swell of power underneath it. He
breathes, and tasting Shu’s skin underneath his tongue makes him feel like he’s
tasting sound itself, sweet and bright and enough to make him shove Shu onto
his back again, eyes glittering a brilliant, bright red. “Gods, I want to eat
you alive,” he breathes, licking at his fangs. “If I had the time…I’d have you
until you couldn’t stand.”
Shu blinks slowly, feeling power start to come creeping back into him. He sucks
in a breath, feeling it course through his veins, and exhales, a little puff of
violet fire, letting it fizzle into the air around him. “I thought...it would
be...more bombastic,” he breathes, eyelids fluttering. “Your power.”
Rei slowly sits back, exhaling a long, shaky sigh. “I can be bombastic,” he
murmurs, his eyes lidding. Absently, he leans back, his hand presses down into
the muddy ground, and underneath his touch, countless weeds and flowers alike
start to sprout, clawing their way to the surface in a dizzying array of green.
“But…the moment I am…well, that means we’re done here. Do you want to watch me
demolish Eichi’s studio?”
“No,” Shu says honestly. “I want to hold you inside of me until we both die.”
He presses a kiss to Rei’s cheek, feeling the power thrum inside him, and the
growing plants make his heart race. “But I do dearly want to watch you destroy
everything he loves.”
The enormous, white tower that holds the Emperor’s study—and ultimately, most
of his belongings—slowly starts to sink, as if the ground underneath it has
completely given out, courtesy of the thick, racing vines that start to climb
and cover it. “That’s a start,” Rei says, sounding relieved, and he slowly
lifts Shu from his lap, trying not to vibrate with every single touch. “My
apologies, love, you’re a bit of a mess. I’m not sure we have time to clean up
before we leave this place.”
“I can handle that much, at least--ahh, I feel very recharged, is that you, or
just sex?” Shu straightens up, shaking himself out, and violet fire encases his
entire body, purging him of filth as he murmurs a spell, one of his own
creation. “Ah...very satisfying. Destroy every single one of his teacups,
they’re hideous.”
“Both,” Rei brightly says, climbing to his feet and shaking himself off with a
satisfied sigh. Uncaring of the mud, he dresses himself, and idly wiggles his
toes, watching the bursting of green underneath them when he doesn’t focus
enough. “I’ve never had such a hard time keeping a grasp on it. I wonder, if we
did it again, what would happen…”
“You!”
 Another word doesn’t leave Tori of the Himemiya house’s mouth before Rei
simply lifts a hand, knocking him flat onto his back into the wet ground,
pinning him there and silencing him with multiple, shifting layers of wisping
shadow. “I have no interest in having you in the thick of this,” he says
honestly, dropping his hand to Shu’s cheek instead. “But sending you away…mm, I
think not. Would you like to go destroy a magical weapon with me, while the
Academy crumbles to pieces and Eichi chases a ghost?”
“That sounds delightful, my lord,” Shu says with a smile, taking Rei’s hand in
his own and squeezing. He shakes out his cloak, letting it billow around him as
he breathes in power. Violet power shimmers around his shoulders, settling into
him, more with every breath. “Is it bad to say I dearly hope someone tries to
stand in our way?”
***** Chapter 43 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
Arashi blames the rain, and the darkness, and his own worry about Izumi.
It’s nothing, he claims, when they get to the gates of his stronghold, and
finds it currently impassable because of trees. It happens, unfortunately,
though he’s usually on the other side of it, ordering his men to clear the
great logs as soon as the storms let up. It’s fine, because he knows another
way--the main road, actually, which doesn’t go through his own holdings, but he
knows it just as well, perhaps better.
But he blames the rain, and the darkness, and his own worry, for his
forgetfulness. That’s surely the only reaction, when their soggy, exhausted
group crests a hill and spots a cluster of welcoming lights, and his heart
sinks. “Why don’t we stop here for the night?” he asks suddenly, gesturing to
the pounding rain and the shadowy forest all around them. “Ooh, or better yet,
we should keep going until morning! No use wasting time, eh?”
Natsume, by this point, is shivering like a cat left out in the rain for far
too long—which he is, more or less. Mika opens his mouth, then shuts it again,
frowning at Arashi openly, and Izumi’s tired, skeptical stare follows suit, but
it’s Tsukasa who says something.
“There’s clearly a town right ahead, Captain,” he says, gesturing to the lights
just beyond the hills. “Maybe a half hour ride. I’m sure there’s an inn there
that we can stop at.”
“I don’t think so, hmm, no,” Arashi says, a bit agitated and too exhausted to
hide it properly. “Looks like there’s no one there, we shouldn’t bother them--”
“I’m cold,” Natsume quietly says, trying not to let his teeth chatter, and
failing.
“Hand over your coin, Kasa,” Izumi dismissively says, holding out his hand.
“I’ll ride ahead and deal with it.”
Tsukasa does just that, and Izumi is gone, leaving Mika to nudge back against
Arashi’s chest where he rides in front of him, peering up at him with eyes that
are dilated in the darkness. “Is it a bad place?” he quietly asks. “You can
hide under my cloak and no one’ll know you.”
“I don’t want to stop here,” Arashi mutters, hands clenched so tightly his
knuckles turn white, jaw popping with tension. “I’ll sleep outside, it’ll--
it’ll be best for everyone if I do, I’ll--I’ll meet you in the morning, yeah? I
don’t hate the ground in the mud.”
Neigh whickers, turning her head to nose at his foot.
“Stop it, you dumb horse,” he mutters distractedly. “I’m fine, don’t check on
me.”
Mika hesitates, reaching down to curl his fingers over one of Arashi’s hands.
“Inns usually have a back door, right? If y’don’t want anyone to see you, I’ll
sneak in with you that way. And we don’t have t’leave the room ‘till morning.”
“His Excellency is right, Captain,” Tsukasa quietly butts in, pulling his horse
up next to Arashi’s. “You grew up somewhere near here, I’m guessing? I can
understand not wanting to see those people again—we’ll make sure no one catches
sight of you. It would cause too much of a scene, anyway.”
Arashi’s face twists into something very uncharacteristic, and he shakes out
his hair, trying to ignore the twisting, cold pit in his stomach. “It’s fine.
They’d never let you come in through the back door. I’m being a coward, sorry.”
His voice is gruffer, lower than usual, and the lines around his eyes are tense
and unhappy. “Go on, Tsukasa. Meet up with Izumi. We’ll be there in a moment.”
Tsukasa frowns, then nods, waving for Natsume and Leo alike to follow. Mika
waits for them to leave before he turns his head into Arashi’s neck, nudging
him there gently. “We don’t have t’go,” he says. “I’ll stay out here with you.
If it’s that bad, then I don’t wanna stay there, either.”
“It’s not bad. I’m being a baby.” Arashi sucks in a breath through his nose,
deliberately unclenching his hands. “It’s fine. I just forgot, wasn’t expecting
it. I wasn’t watching where we were going.”
He takes a breath, then points ahead of them, to one particular winking light.
“That’s the house I grew up in,” he says quietly. “Across the street from the
Inn. There are only about twenty families in the whole town.”
“Oh. Whoa.” Mika leans back, grimacing. “That’s a real small town. Kinda like
the slum I grew up in…not that this is a slum or anything,” he hastily adds.
“Jus’…small like that. Mm, I don’t think you’re bein’ a baby. If y’don’t wanna
see those people, I get it. I wouldn’t wanna see anyone I grew up with,
either.”
“There isn’t anywhere else to stop, though,” Arashi admits. He wraps his arms
around Mika, squeezes, then says with great hesitation, “You should...ride in
on your own horse.”
Mika pauses, then nods, unclasping his cloak to leave it draped around Arashi
before he turns, stealing a kiss, and scampers over onto his own horse’s back
once more. “I still think we should try goin’ through the back door,” he says.
“Or sleep with the horses, even.”
“If I get caught like that, it’ll be ridiculous, though. I’m their lord, you
know? I can’t get caught snooping. And the stableboy...gods, it’s probably the
son of one of the stableboys I grew up with by now, I haven’t been back for
almost a decade.”
Mika sticks his tongue out in distaste, but eventually nudges his horse
forward. “Izumi’ll help,” he simply says. “He’s good at takin’ the attention
away from everyone, and he’s kinda telepathic with you, so he’ll get it. I…I
wish I knew what to do, kara, but the only idea I’ve got is hidin’, sorry.”
“It’s all right. Keep back in the shadows, it’ll make you happiest, and then I
won’t have to deal with keeping you away from everyone’s prying comments.”
Arashi grimaces. “Fair warning...there’s a non-zero chance that someone from my
family will be in there. Pop used to drink there after work, and Ma used to
pick up shifts as a barmaid, but they’re a lot older now. My brother’s probably
old enough, unless he’s left town.”
“Definitely gonna hide,” Mika admits, shaking his head. “Family things are
scary. Hey, I’m still game to sleep in the mud, I mean it.”
“It’s fine, amaka. Like I said, I’m just being a baby.”
The sound of hoofbeats changes as Neigh steps onto a more packed road, and
Arashi swings off his saddle, taking the reins in one hand as they approach the
stables. He whistles for a stableboy, keeping his face out of the light, and
flips the boy a coin. “For both of them. We’ll be leaving in the morning.”
Mika resists the reflex he’s cultivated to immediately cling to Arashi’s arm,
or at least the back of his jacket, once he’s on the ground. The stableboy
catches the coin, eyes wide as if he’s never seen this much money in his life,
and he takes the horses’ reins with a short bow. “Thank you, Milord, I—“ He
squints in the dim light, looking searching at Arashi’s face. Recognition is
clearly on the tip of his tongue before a hand swats down across the back of
his head.
“Move along, haven’t you ever cared for a noble’s horses?” Izumi scolds. “Get
them out of the rain, they’re worth more than you’ll see in a year! Honestly,
after I already paid you for the others as well…”
“Y-yes, Milord, my apologies, Milord—“ The boy scrambles to do as he’s told,
and Izumi sighs.
“Only two rooms left in this entire shitty town, so I got both, which each have
one bed, and we’re all gonna be crammed in there and be very cuddly tonight, I
suppose.” He wipes a silver curl of hair out of his face, hands on his hips as
he stares up at Arashi, soaking wet and world-weary. “This the place?” he adds
casually. “Took two seconds and I heard some familiar names.”
Arashi grunts, shoulders squaring, drawing up to his full height, readjusting
his center of gravity. It’s been quite a while since he’s been in company, but
the way he shifts his stance is old hat. He’s done it since he was old enough
to stand ay way, let alone since he was old enough to be told to ‘stand like a
real man.’ “Not tonight,” he says quietly, without meeting Izumi’s eyes. “Don’t
cause trouble, there’s nowhere else to go.”
“Fair enough. I’ll circle back tomorrow, then.” Izumi smiles too-sweetly. “Want
an excuse to retire early, or do you have one already? Natsume’s acting like
he’s as sick as a dog, and passed out the second he hit the bed. Keeping watch
over your priceless wizards sounds convincing to me.”
“Milord?” A young woman with golden hair bobs a curtsy, looking nervous,
casting a glance between Arashi and Izumi. “You’re--ah, begging your pardon,
but how many of you’ll be needing bedwarmers tonight? I’ve got five girls on
staff, none of ‘em poxed, and two more I can send for if...”
She trails off, narrowing her eyes as she looks at Arashi. Then they widen, and
she sinks into a much deeper curtsy. “Oh! Milord--that is, my lord, your
Grace!”
“Please, you don’t need to--”
“What’s that I hear?” A deep voice comes from behind Arashi, just before a
meaty hand claps him on the back so hard that most folk would go flying. He
barely flinches. “It can’t be--Sara and Ogram’s boy, sure’s shit!”
It’s too late to ask the man to keep his voice down. The whole Inn has heard by
now, the tavern room erupting into flurries of movement, all eyes on him, and
Arashi bites down a grimace, turning to punch the man in the shoulder. “Hyde,
you old bastard,” he says, in a voice unlike any most of his friends have ever
heard him use. “Trude’s still giving you the time of day, or she make you live
here now? Peh, you stink of lyme, even in this rain!”
Mika looks ready to implode—too many people, too many loud voices written
across his face as clear as day—and Izumi takes it upon himself to pull his
cloak down over his head, dragging him over. Gratefully, Mika huddles behind
him, clinging to the back of his shirt, because clinging to Arashi is off-
limits right now, and with there no Shu to be found…well, being third in line
is a given.
“A pass on the bedwarmers, Milady—we’ve wizards in our company, it wouldn’t be
proper,” Izumi wryly dismisses, and spares her an apologetic pinch to her rear
when she turns away. “A lovely reunion, Your Grace, but when can I expect you
to turn in? We’re leaving early.” He’s Northern, it’s expected that he’s brisk
and rude, and that comes in handy at times like this.
“If you want to gawk at the wizards,” Arashi says loudly, voice booming even in
the noisy tavern room, “come to the Canvera Forum tomorrow. We’ve sent birds to
all corners of the West--the wizards want to talk to all of you. I’ve brought
two wizards, the best in the land, and one of them is even a Nightcloak. Now
leave us be, we’re going to bed.”
“He’s changed,” one woman says sadly, and Arashi ignores her, nodding his head
towards the stairs. Izumi doesn’t need to tell him where to go.
“Come on, we’re walking,” Izumi murmurs, pushing Mika in front of him towards
the stairs to get him out of the room as quickly as possible. He’s trembling,
which makes it harder, and Izumi gives up and lifts him, letting him cling to
his neck as he makes it to the stairs. “Gods, you weigh nothing.”
Mika’s eyes peer over Izumi’s shoulder, fixating on Arashi. “Noisy,” he
complains, reaching out with grabbing fingers. “Nn, kara, you’re right, this
place is no good…”
Arashi shuts the door behind all of them, leaning back against it with a long,
deep exhale. His hands start trembling, and he presses them to his face, only
refraining from sliding down to the ground with sheer force of will. “Sorry,”
he whispers. “Sorry. I’ll have it together in a second.”
Izumi reaches over, grabbing Arashi by the arm, and hauls him forcibly over to
the bed, pushing him down onto it and dropping Mika into his lap. “Cuddle
that,” he orders, stepping back to strip out of his wet clothes, unable to
ignore the annoying chafing any longer. “Small towns suck, huh? It’s the same
in the North, even smack dab in Sena. Everyone knows everyone, it’s impossible
to escape it.”
“Sorry. Sorry,” Arashi apologizes again, grabbing Mika close, burying his face
in his shoulder. “I just, they’re all the fucking same, you know? Every single
one of them, all they fucking care about is drinking and fighting and whoring
and going to the same damn job every day for forty years until they die. Ugh,
I’m being a baby, I know, it’s nothing like the Sandlands, I know, it’s
just...”
He waves a hand, dismayed to see it shaking. “All I ever wanted growing up was
to escape.”
Mika shakes his head, stuffing his face into Arashi’s neck, and slowly pets his
fingers through his damp hair, stroking methodically. “You’re not being a baby,
kara,” he murmurs. “You’re too handsome and cool t’be stuck in a place like
this.”
“I would’ve slept in the mud if we had a choice,” Izumi quietly tells him after
rummaging through his pack and hopping into a pair of clean, dry breeches
before dropping down onto the side of the bed next to Arashi. It creaks
underneath his weight, and he rolls his eyes at it. “But Natsume looks like
he’s really not feeling well. Kasa’s keeping an eye on him in the other room,
don’t get up, but…yeah. Bad timing, I know.”
He pulls the tie from his hair, finger-combing it in hopes of having it dry
faster, before he gives Arashi’s back a light pat. “Real lords don’t talk
directly to their subjects. Just send me if you have something to say before
the night’s up.”
“Don’t kill anyone,” Arashi says, quite aware that it sounds halfhearted. “But
if you could get us...Gerte makes the best stew in the entire dominance, I
swear I could smell it when we came in. Mika’s got to eat. And I just want to.”
“Mmhm, got it.” Izumi brushes Arashi’s hair entirely the wrong way as he climbs
to his feet, grabbing up a dry shirt as well and pulling it on, mostly unlaced.
“Be back in a minute.”
The door clicks shut behind him, and Mika heaves a soft sigh, smoothing
Arashi’s hair back into place. “I wish I could talk to people like that,” he
says wistfully. “He ain’t even that good at it, he jus’ can talk and I’m bad at
even that much. Sorry, kara.”
“I’m good at people. Most people. Ugh, I shouldn’t have let him go, if he kills
someone this is going to be bad,” Arashi grouses, flopping back onto the bed,
staring up at the ceiling.
“He prolly won’t, he wants to sleep somewhere that’s not dirty,” Mika points
out, flopping down to stretch out on Arashi’s chest. “You keep sayin’ that,
though,” he quietly says. “Who’s he supposedly wantin’ to kill?”
Arashi grimaces. “No one I was ever going to tell you about.”
“Mm.” Mika stares up at him, chin on his arms, before he rolls to the side.
“Okay. You don’t have t’tell me. They’re the kinda people that should die, I
guess?”
“I don’t know anymore. Maybe.”
Arashi rolls onto his own side, propping his head up on his elbow. “Does anyone
ever really know? I mean...do you think some people can change? That they can
do something bad when they’re young, and still grow up to be a good person?”
“Depends on what the bad thing is.” Mika’s eyes lid, and he shifts, moving to
shed all of his damp clothing now that they’re peacefully alone. He hasn’t been
able to be naked in days, and it’s a relief now. “Some things, I jus’ think
people should die for, even if they jus’ did it once.”
“Yeah?” Arashi wriggles out of his own wet clothes, climbing under the
blankets. “What things are those? I...want to hear it from someone else.”
“Mmm. Okay. Doin’ things to hurt kids. Killin’ people, unless it’s a self-
defense kinda thing. Hurting animals for fun. Raping people, especially kids.
And just hurtin’ people for fun, like the Emperor does, I hate that.” Mika
slides underneath the blankets, sighing in satisfaction. The linens aren’t
anything special, but they’re clean, and that’s what matters. “That kinda
stuff. People that do that kinda stuff…I dunno. I think they deserve what’s
comin’ to ‘em.”
“Deserve it, sure,” Arashi says softly. He keeps his eyes open, turning to
stare at the ceiling, not wanting to close his eyes, sort of afraid of what
he’ll see when they close. “But it’s been so long. I thought I knew what I was
asking for, but now we’re here, they’re here, and I just feel like a hysterical
kid.”
Mika crawls closer, plastering himself against Arashi’s side, and sets his chin
down upon his shoulder. “Would you think I was bein’ a hysterical kid if I
found any one of the dozens of guys that bought me in the Sandlands and wanted
t’kill him?”
“No,” Arashi admits. “I’d be standing in front of you with my sword out, trying
to cut them down before your ghosties got to them.”
“Then you’re not bein’ a hysterical kid, either. It doesn’t stop bein’ a bad
thing jus’ ‘cuz we’re old now.”
Arashi sighs. “You’re probably right. Sorry I never told you about any of this
when I know so much about what happened to you, I just...ugh. Never
wanted...it’s less that I didn’t want to talk about it, more that I didn’t feel
like bringing it up because that would feel like it defined me or something,
you know?”
“Kara.” Mika reaches up, poking the end of Arashi’s nose. “Y’don’t have to tell
me everything or anythin’, honestly. Besides, I…kinda guessed a long time ago,
that somethin’ happened. This sounds bad, but…it’s why I felt safe around you,
at first.”
Arashi’s mouth twists hard. “I’m glad you felt safe with me, but...ugh. Can I
ask how you knew? I thought I was doing a good job not letting it be part of
me.”
“It’s not any way you act,” Mika quickly says, waving a hand. “Or…or anything
you keep doin’, it’s…when we first got assigned to your army, you were scary,
kinda loud and overbearing and I…couldn’t even look at you. But then I had to
go out alone with you at one point, and somethin’ spooked me, I don’t remember
what, and I sort of grabbed you without thinking. You were nice about it, but
you pulled me off, and picked me up instead, sayin’…that you’d rather be the
one doin’ the touchin’, thanks.” He flushes, shrugging. “I know a lot of people
would think you were flirting with me, but no one flirts with wizards. So it
had to mean something else. That’s all.”
Slowly, Arashi lets out a breath through his teeth. It’s fine, it’s not
anything about you, he tells himself firmly. It’s just that he knows you.
That’s good, that means he loves me.
 “I love you,” he says simply, reaching over to grab Mika’s hand. “Sorry I’m a
tight-lipped brute that would rather fight dragons than visit my loving
parents.”
“Mmn, I love you, too. I think it’s good. ’s not like you can introduce me to
your parents, so whatever. Warm, dry beds alone are a better way to spend the
night.” Mika sticks out his tongue. “Besides, you gotta split up your love
between me and the snake somehow.”
“Between you and...” Arashi shrugs, not entirely comfortable with that line of
thought. “I don’t really...ah. You know I’ll choose you, you’re the one I’m in
love with. He’s...different. In a different life, if I hadn’t met you--but you
think that about him too, don’t you? He’d be your type if you’d met him first.”
“I want him to dump his idiot prince and run off with us and also pull my
hair.”
“Right? Ugh, I know, we’d be very happy, don’t you think?” Arashi darts a
suspicious glance towards the door. “I feel like it doesn’t take this long to
get soup. Ugh, but I don’t want to go check, I’m being a coward.”
“He’s probably jus’ giving us more time to cool down and talk,” Mika says,
shrugging as he snuggles up closer. “Give it a few more minutes. Hey, does the
prince make you wanna scream? He’s so noisy and acts like a dumb kid and I
can’t trust no one that sleeps with the Emperor so that’s that. Kiss Izumi real
good and make him sleep with us tonight.”
“Be nice to the prince,” Arashi says, scooting closer and wrapping his arms
around Mika’s waist. “I’ve talked to a lot of people that know him really well.
And even really stodgy, conservative types in the Capital think he’s our best
hope for the world. I’ve believed in getting him on the throne for years, you
know? He’s got his flaws, but he gives a shit about the people, not like the
king we have now.”
He pauses, then adds, “But we should absolutely seduce Izumi into staying with
us tonight. We just have to be quiet.”
Mika’s lips purse, even as he plants a kiss to Arashi’s chest. “He seems like a
nice guy, but I still can’t trust no one that’s in bed—literally—with the
Emperor. My ball’s kinda in the Demon King’s court, but if I gotta side with
another human…” He makes a face, huffing out a breath. “Whatever. I don’t wanna
talk about it, let’s talk about how the snake’s fair game, he ain’t even bonded
to the prince.”
“They’re not?” That’s something of a surprise, and brings up something Arashi
hasn’t brought up ever, not wanting to hear the answer. Slowly, he drags his
fingers through the length of Mika’s hair, and asks quietly, “Are you sad that
we’re not? I mean, I don’t think we are, but humans can’t really tell, right?”
“We’re not,” Mika confirms, his eyes lidding contently underneath the petting.
“But I’m not sad. If we were bonded, if one of us died, the other person would
die, too. That’s bad. Also, they seem kinda stressful. I don’t think you’d
wanna be in my head that much, and vice versa. Too invasive, real weird.”
“But doesn’t it mean you guys love each other an extra amount, or something?
Or...I mean, you don’t choose it, right? So do you fall in love because you’re
bonded, or are you bonded because you fell in love, or...” Arashi huffs.
“You’re right, it sounds stressful. I like being able to know that you’re with
me because you choose me every day.”
“I don’t think you love anyone extra ‘cause of it,” Mika says. “‘Cause you
can’t choose it at all. I think…it’s supposed to be like, you’re naturally
compatible, if you bond with someone? But not always, ugh. If you’re comparin’
it to the stuff that Master and the Demon King have goin’ on, that’s definitely
an anomaly. First of all, bonds are pretty darn rare anyway, and second of all,
most people that’ve got ‘em aren’t that…connected. Even the Sea Wizard—he’s a
Nightcloak, but the bond he’s got is real weak and vague.”
There’s a knock on the door, and it opens a moment later courtesy of Izumi’s
hip, a tray in hand with two bowls of soup and two tankards of ale. “Sorry that
took a moment, got into an argument about whether or not I was a real
Northerner because I’m not tall and hairy and dark-haired,” he grouses, kicking
the door shut behind himself. “Reminds me how long it’s been since I’ve been
able to shave my damn legs, but sure, whatever.”
Arashi looks down at Izumi’s hands, surreptitiously looking for droplets of
blood. Not finding any, he beams, grabbing a bowl and tankard, nodding to the
bed next to him. “Come sit, you need to eat too. You can share mine, there’s no
way one human can eat all of this.”
“Pass,” Izumi says with a wave of his hand, even though he sits all the same.
“I got fresh bread stuffed in my face, that’ll leave me feeling disgusting for
hours.” He grabs Mika’s tankard. “But I’ll steal some of this, thanks.”
Mika sits up to huddle around his own bowl, nibbling on it slowly. “Huh. Kara’s
right, this is pretty good. I bet even Master would like it…ahh, I hope he’s
doin’ all right.”
“Izumi, you’re not going to leave us alone for the night, are you?” Arashi asks
bluntly, then sips a huge spoonful of his soup, maintaining eye contact. “We
both know you’d rather stay here than with the high-strung redhead party next
door.”
Izumi winces at that, and looks away, downing a mouthful of ale. “Gross. I hate
small town ale. Anyway, am I that obvious?” he dryly asks, wiping his mouth.
“Nah,” Mika says, not looking up from his bowl. “But we’re still better
company.”
Izumi’s mouth twists. “I’m just worn out,” he admits. “Natsume’s sick, Kasa’s
trying not to go flirt with all your busty barmaids, and Leo’s…” He waves a
hand, glancing away. “He’s the way he is.”
“Tell Tsukasa to keep his wick undipped,” Arashi says dryly. “The girls might
not be poxed, but it’ll burn to piss for a few months.” He takes a long gulp of
his ale, then points at the door. “Mika, amaka, tuck a rag under the door, will
you? I want to make some noise tonight. Let’s show him we’re more fun than
busty barmaids.” And if it keeps him from thinking too much about where he is
for a few minutes, well, so much the better.
Mika sets his bowl of soup on the floor and clambers to his feet, fiddling with
the lock on the door before doing as Arashi asks. “Not too much noise,” he
hums, flopping back onto the bed, kicking his feet up behind him. “If Natsu
isn’t feelin’ good, he’s gotta sleep.”
Izumi dares another sip of ale, then gives up, making a face as he shoves it
over to Arashi. “More for you, Milady. And you—I’m so jealous of you,” he
grouses, leaning back to give Mika’s ass a pinch. “I wish I looked like this
after traveling for gods know how long.”
“He’s cute, right?” Arashi pushes his soup onto a nearby table, wriggling out
of his shirt. “And we were all in the rain for a goddamn year, so we don’t have
to worry about dragging water up here for a bath. Hey, I know we had fun last
time...but you guys have to give me a bit more love this time, yeah?” His eyes
burn, and he locks them first on Mika, then on Izumi. There’s something beyond
hunger in them, something dark, searching, a little desperate.
“Don’t say such obvious things, you harlot,” Izumi scolds, unlacing his own
shirt as he leans over, his fingers sliding up to brush aside Arashi’s hair,
his mouth following with a warm kiss pressed to the side of his neck. “I was
going to spoil you anyway,” he murmurs. “However you want.”
Mika watches for a moment, chin in hand, before he slithers up, draping his
arms around Arashi’s shoulders from behind. “You’re so warm, now that we’re
outta the rain,” he sighs happily, his lips closing around the lobe of one ear,
his teeth gently scraping against it as he pulls down. “Mmnn, kara…”
Arashi shivers with the sudden warmth rippling through him. He reaches up,
stroking down Izumi’s chest, fingers tracing the dip between his pectorals.
Another shiver, and he turns his head, kissing Mika slowly, relaxing back
against him as he tugs Izumi close.
If he’s being honest with himself, this is what he’s wanted for as long as he’s
known both of them. But if he’d asked for this the first time, that would have
been embarrassing, naughty, selfish. By giving Mika everything he wanted the
first time, by catering to his and Izumi’s fantasies...well, now it isn’t so
bad if he takes a little pleasure for himself in both of them, is it? “Take
care of me,” he murmurs, letting his head roll back onto Mika’s shoulder.
“You’re both so good at that.”
“Mm, mm,” Mika agrees languidly, reaching around to idly thumb over Arashi’s
nipples, his mouth warm and soft against his neck before he bites, lightly
nipping at his skin. “You work too hard, you gotta let us fix you up.”
“It’s not like it’s hard, anyway,” Izumi lowly teases, neatly straddling
Arashi’s lap and leaning forward to follow the tip of his head, catching his
mouth with his own. His teeth catch at his lower lip, gently scraping before
his tongue slides into his mouth, deliberately dragging the tip against the
roof of Arashi’s mouth as his hands slide down to slowly unlace his breeches.
Arashi moans into the kiss, thoughts racing, but silenced beautifully when
Izumi kisses him like that. He sucks on Izumi’s tongue, swirling his tongue
around it, reaching back to lace his fingers through Mika’s hair. He slowly
rolls his hips, helping Izumi strip his breeches off, shifting forward to rub
his half-hard cock against Izumi’s thigh. “You kiss,” he murmurs, “like you’re
making love. It’s...it’s nice, it’s so nice, I love you both.”
“Yeah, I save it for occasions when I really want a guy to think I’m hot,”
Izumi says with a breathless laugh, lurching forward to kiss Arashi again,
dragging his hands back through his hair and along his scalp to kiss him long
and deep. “Mmm…helps that you taste nice, even after drinking shitty ale,” he
murmurs, his eyes lidded as he draws back, a little flick of his tongue
snapping the string of saliva connecting them.
“Arashi always is good,” Mika agrees, leaning forward to get his mouth on
Arashi’s as well, wetly sucking on his lower lip with a ragged sigh. His
fingers slip lower, thumbs tracing over his hips, then lower, to drag his thumb
down the length of his hardening cock. “Nnn, Izumiii…we were talkin’, you
should run away with us.”
“Sounds good,” Izumi says without skipping a beat, tugging the tie in his hair
free and tossing it on the floor along with his shirt. “When and where are we
going?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Arashi murmurs, tonguing Mika’s bottom lip, his hands
wandering down to squeeze Izumi’s ass, pulling him forward, until they’re
pressed together. “But...mm, let’s go North, Mika loves those big hot rocks,
what did you call them? The ones with all the blankets on top...our first time
was on one of those.”
“Oh, warming stones?” Izumi shivers as he wriggles forward, sighing out a
breath through his nose when Arashi’s cock twitches against his own. “Those are
the best after a cold bath.”
“No cold baths,” Mika disagrees, curling painted fingers around Izumi and
Arashi’s cocks, idly toying with the drip of precome from the tip of Izumi’s.
“Just warming stones.”
“Sure,” Izumi gasps, his cock giving an eager twitch when Mika’s fingers toy
with him, and he gives up, pressing a hurried kiss to Arashi’s mouth before he
slides down off the bed and to his knees. “If you want me to spoil you, I’m
doing it properly,” he mutters, kissing up the inside of Arashi’s thigh from
knee to hip.
“Mmm, no arguments he~ere,” Arashi murmurs, scooting to the edge of the bed and
spreading his legs, hands threading through Izumi’s hair, petting him gently.
“Ahh, how long has it been since you’ve used that mouth on someone, darling?”
It’s on the verge of his tongue to tease him, to say that he hopes Izumi isn’t
out of practice, but the words just don’t come. Instead, he leans over to kiss
Mika, then murmurs, “It always feels so good, you take such good care of me...”
Izumi fingers wrap around the base of Arashi’s cock, his eyes lidding beneath
the touch to his hair, and the musky, masculine taste on his tongue the second
he drags it over the tip for a taste. He shivers, splaying a hand against the
inside of Arashi’s thigh as he scoots closer. “Gods, when was the last time,”
he snorts, and parts his lips to suck on the head first, groaning low in his
throat as he lets it drag further across his tongue.
“If he’s forgotten how to do it, I’m callin’ dibs,” Mika laughs, nestling
himself against Arashi’s side, his own hard cock rubbing against his hip as he
nips and sucks on Arashi’s neck, all the way up to his ear. One teasing flick
of his tongue turns to it tracing the rim of it, ending with a pointed suck on
his ear lobe.
“Ahhh...” Arashi’s eyes roll back into his head, and his hands tighten in
Izumi’s hair, hips rolling forward. His cock is hardening swiftly now, and he
closes his eyes, basking in the sensation of slick wet heat encircling the head
of his cock. “Mika, amaka...don’t pretend like you do this any more often,” he
says, gasping a little at a swipe of Izumi’s tongue over the slit at the tip.
“You’re always too impatient...ahhh...to have it in you...”
“That’s fair though, it’s so nice,” Mika complains, nipping at Arashi’s earring
and tugging on it lightly. His fingers sneak down Arashi’s chest again, idly
thumbing over a nipple. “It just feels so good when it’s in me, kara…and you
feel so strong when you’re movin’ in me, I can’t help but want it all th’
time…”
Izumi’s own eyes flutter shut, and he follows the roll of Arashi’s hips, the
pull of his hands to let himself be drawn forward, swallowing more of his cock
down until it bumps against the back of his throat. He fights down the urge to
gag—that’s new, and annoying, thanks, brain—and swallows hard, drawing back
just enough to stop his eyes from watering when he drags his tongue from root
to tip. “Stop talking about how fucking good his cock is in you, or I’m going
to climb on it,” Izumi pants as he tilts his head back for a moment, catching
his breath. “You and your stupid sexy accent, I hate you, talk more.”
The tip of Mika’s tongue sticks out, amused. “Ehh…about how nice Arashi’s
pretty cock feels when it’s all the way in you, nice and thick and hard?” His
nails slowly drag down Arashi’s spine, feeling every lean muscle twitch
underneath his touch. “The best part is that it takes ‘m so~o long to come,
‘cause even if you’re easy like us, we still gotta feel it in us and feel how
it makes us squirm~…nnn, unless you lick his ears, then he comes real fast.
Don’t you, kara?”
“F-for some reason,” Arashi admits with a laugh, feeling his thighs ripple with
goosebumps at the touch of Mika’s nails down his spine. His nails, perfectly
filed, drag up Izumi’s scalp as he hisses out a breath, looking down. “Take
your cock out,” he urges, shifting up to rub the head of his cock over Izumi’s
lips. “Gods, you look pretty, you’re both--you’re both so pretty, I’ve always
wanted to look like you two, ugh, don’t lick my ears, I wanna last...”
“You’re fucking gorgeous, shut up,” Izumi groans, fumbling to do as he’s told
while still mouthing at the head of Arashi’s cock, his tongue lapping at it
when it drips over his lips. His own cock twitches in his grasp, and he
shivers, lurching forward to suck Arashi’s cock back into his mouth with a wet,
sloppy groan.
“Kara’s beautiful,” Mika whines, sucking on the side of Arashi’s neck instead
because, well, he does want Arashi to last, he supposes. His own cock throbs at
the noises Izumi makes, and he huffs. “Like a god…nnn, I’m gettin’ jealous, I
wanna taste,” he grouses, and grabs for one of Arashi’s hands instead, planting
a kiss to the inside of his palm. then sucking his thumb into his mouth with a
deliberate swirl of his tongue.
Arashi’s breath stutters, and he looks down at Izumi, then up at Mika. Then, he
turns, lifting Mika from the bed, settling him on his knees next to Izumi.
“This...is a total fantasy of mine,” he admits, resting one hand on each of
their heads. “If...you could...ah, share? And I, I love watching you kiss,
you’re both so...perfect--”
Izumi pulls off of Arashi’s cock with a slick, wet pop, a single, hitching
breath leaving his lips before he grabs Mika over by a handful of hair, shoving
his tongue into his mouth to give him his first taste of what he had just
complained about not having enough of.
A breathless little squeak leaves Mika’s throat before it turns to a pleased
rumble, and he tips forward, eagerly sucking on Izumi’s tongue, his fingers
pawing down his chest to twist one of his nipples, unable to help himself.
Izumi arches with a hiss of breath and shoves him back, scowling. “Brat,” he
mutters, licking his lips, which are sticky and reddened from both having a
dick in his mouth and kissing. “Watch your hands.”
“You’re just real easy,” Mika hums, taking the opportunity to eagerly scoot
forward, his own mouth hot against the side of Arashi’s cock, dragging wet,
lingering kisses from root to tip before he sucks on the head and is rewarded
with a drip of precome that he licks up with the flat of his tongue. He
shudders down to his toes, his cheeks already flushing hot. “I almost
forgot…how good y’taste down here…”
Arashi wants them to share, which fortunately, does a number of pleasant things
for Izumi, too. He nuzzles back up the inside of Arashi’s thigh, his own cock
throbbing between his legs when he has to wriggle his way closer to get his
mouth on the other side of Arashi’s cock, shivering when he feels it twitch
underneath his lips.
Somehow, despite being exactly what he’s envisioned a dozen times while on the
lonely road or alone in his tent, this is a hundred times, a thousand times
better than anything Arashi had ever imagined it would be. He groans, feeling
his cock twitch and start to throb from how hard he is, dripping onto Mika’s
tongue, the shaft rubbing along Izumi’s lips. “You two,” he pants, “are so good
at this, it’s so unfair...ahh, I just want to watch you do this forever...”
He licks his lips, petting through Izumi’s hair, other hand tangled in Mika’s.
“You can...touch each other, if you want,” he says softly. “I know you can both
come...so many times, it’s so pretty to watch...”
Mika’s eyes lid as he pulls against the hand in his hair, his tongue dragging
over the head of Arashi’s cock before he sucks more of it down with a wet,
pleased sound. The mess that drips onto his tongue leaves even his lips slick
with it when he bobs his head, pulling back, and he grabs for Izumi’s hair,
dragging him over to stuff his tongue into his mouth, tilting his head to make
sure Arashi has a good view of the messy, sticky kiss, his tongue dragging
visibly against Izumi’s.
“Fuck,” Izumi gasps, his fingers trembling where they grip at Arashi’s thigh,
his face hotter and cock even harder after that. Mika looks like a cat that’s
got the cream, intensely pleased, his eyes dilated behind heavy lashes, and
Izumi huffs out a hot breath, grabbing one of Mika’s hands to pull it to his
cock. “Take responsibility,” he rasps before his own tongue busies itself with
Arashi’s cock, uninterested in letting even a single drop what leaks from the
tip go to waste.
“Gods,” Arashi groans, thighs tensing as the two of them work him over, sending
him nearly to the brink of paradise, both of them so good at this it’s almost
strange, or would be if he didn’t know just how much experience they have. He
nearly bucks up into Izumi’s mouth, but restrains himself, eyes darting down to
watch Mika stroking Izumi. “Stop,” he pants, “stop, stop, or I’m going to come.
I want to do more first, I don’t want it to be over so soon.”
Izumi pulls back with a groan, licking at his lips and pouting up at Arashi.
“I’ve made you come more than once before,” he complains. “I can do it again.”
“I get the first one, then,” Mika hums, his mouth going to Arashi’s cock
instead, his tongue flicking out just enough to tease at the tip of it again
before he sucks it into his mouth. He exhales a long, rumbling sigh, eyes
fluttering as he tilts his head forward to swallow Arashi down as far as he
can—which is far enough that Arashi’s cock hits the back of his throat before
sliding down further, and he swallows hard, breathing through his nose as his
fingers still drag up Izumi’s cock.
“Fuck,” Izumi murmurs, dropping his cheek to Arashi’s thigh, his eyes shutting
as Mika’s fingers stroke and squeeze him. He lifts a hand, unable to stop from
pinching one of his own nipples with a hitching little breath.  “T-that’s…not
fair—don’t come in his mouth, come in me, Mika can put it in, too, it’ll be
good…”
Mika pulls off with a slow, wet suck, contemplative. “What d’you think, kara?”
he murmurs. “You want him to ride your cock nice and slow and make you feel
real nice? I bet I could fit in there, too, and it’d be sooo tight…”
Izumi curses, burying his face into Arashi’s thigh when he spills with just
another absent squeeze of Mika’s fingers, just the thought of it enough to send
him spilling over the edge. His cock doesn’t get any softer for it, which just
leaves him shivering, twitching, overstimulated where he kneels. “I-I’ll do
whatever you want,” he pants out. “Just…let me make you feel good…”
“This is so unfair,” Arashi groans, hands twisted in thick-soft hair, one
silver, one dark, mind fizzling and sparking from the wet heat of Mika’s
throat. Then he nods, reaching down to squeeze the base of his own cock,
grabbing Mika and tossing him onto his back. “Ride him,” he decides, nodding at
Izumi, then over to where Mika’s cock is hard and ready and so obviously eager
that Arashi aches just looking at him. “Then I’ll get in you, too, and we’ll
see just how much you can really take.”
Not for nothing, no one will be facing him, either, and Arashi craves that
during sex a hell of a lot more than he wants to admit.
Mika hits the bed with a giddy little noise, entirely too pleased as he grabs
for Izumi with eager hands. “I love it when you throw me, kara,” he sighs,
reaching off the bed to fumble for wherever Arashi’s belt ended up, and upon
finding it, pulls out a bottle of oil. “Ahh, I think I’m the one gettin’
spoiled tonight, actually…”
“Yeah, I’m a gift,” Izumi huffs, slinging a leg over Mika’s hips and snatching
the oil away. He doesn’t bother fingering himself, and instead, just lets the
oil drip down Mika’s cock, making him shiver and jerk at the sudden, slick
coolness. “When’s the last time you got to be in someone, hmm?”
“A…while,”Mika groans, his hands immediately sliding to Izumi’s hips, his voice
breaking on a squeak when Izumi grabs at his cock, pulling it to his hole, and
that first, slick-tight-hot press of his head inside makes him writhe. “Nnnn,
f-fuck, you’re—“
“A gift, I already said it,” Izumi breathlessly says, arching his back as he
slides down, his mouth falling open when Mika’s cock sinks into him, achingly
hard and nestled at just the right angle. His fingers dig into Mika’s shoulders
as he rocks back, shivering, and he lifts a hand to shove his hair out of his
face before glancing back over his shoulder at Arashi. “There’s room, c’mon,”
he murmurs, dangling the little vial of oil. “Both of you need to feel good.”
Arashi slides the oil onto his cock, shifting up onto his knees. He places a
row of kisses, then nips, all along Izumi’s neck, bruising him up in careful
patterns as he strokes his cock, then presses the head to Izumi’s stretched
hole. “I don’t know,” he murmurs, reaching down to trace his fingertip around
Mika’s cock resting deep inside Izumi. “You feel pretty full...I’m not sure
even this slutty hole can take even more...push down and beg like a good girl,
then we can all feel really good.”
He presses a kiss to Izumi’s ear, adding, “When’s the last time you got
properly fucked, darling? Not by your pretty prince, I’m sure...”
Izumi shudders, clenching down around Mika’s cock before he can help himself.
Mika hisses out a sharp breath, trembling as he tries to be still, shoving
himself up onto his elbows to better brace himself and do just that, but it’s
easier said than done when his cock is so hard that it twitches and leaks
inside every time Izumi so much as breathes.
“It’s been…way too long,” Izumi admits with a ragged laugh, his eyes fluttering
shut. When? Right, when he’d cuddled up to Makoto naked and still unsure on the
way back to High Harbor, when he still felt fucking ugly and entirely unwanted.
The memory should probably do less for him than it does, but Izumi pants as he
arches back, squirming down, trying to push down onto Arashi’s cock. “Y-you’ve
gotta put it in me, please, I…”
Someone who knows Izumi less probably wouldn’t notice, but Arashi does. His
eyes are sharp, and he sees the sudden tension, the sudden gasp, and he wraps
his arms around Izumi, hands skating up his belly, up to pinch and tug at his
nipples. Then he rocks closer, letting the head of his cock start to breach
that tight ring of muscle, so tight that it feels impossible that it doesn’t
tear. “Open up wide, darling,” he murmurs, husky and low. “Who are you thinking
about fucking your tight ass, sweetheart? Anyone we know?”
“Gotta be someone real good if you’re thinkin’ about them instead of us,” Mika
lowly teases, unable to stop himself from lurching up now, his mouth on Izumi’s
throat, sucking and biting on already marred skin. “Nnnh…kara…you feel so hot…”
Izumi huffs out a hot, wet breath, tears springing to the corner of his eyes
when Arashi starts to sink inside of him. It’s definitely too much, he
should’ve not been so hasty and taken the time to finger himself or something,
but fuck if it doesn’t feel good in the most insanely achy, too-tight kind of
way. He sags forward, mouth open as he pants, trying to relax a bit more—but it
doesn’t happen until the head of Arashi’s cock pops inside of him, and he just
shudders, his fingers uselessly grabbing onto whatever part of Mika he can
reach. “T…they’re not, so d-don’t make me say it,” he begs, his voice gone low
and throaty. A trickle of sweat drips down his spine, and his head lolls back
against Arashi’s shoulder. “Ah…f..fuck…that’s…”
Arashi’s teeth rasp against Izumi’s ear, then he lurches forward, grabbing
Mika’s face, kissing him hard before releasing him, all the better to thrust in
hard. “You’re so--ahh, you don’t have to tell me,” he murmurs, biting again,
rocking in deep. His cock drags against Mika’s, rocking in so deep Izumi has to
be hurting and too-full, and his hand dips down, cupping Izumi’s dripping cock.
“Just keep thinking about him, let us have your pretty body.”
Izumi clamps a hand over his own mouth to muffle the broken, too-loud sounds
that want to escape when Arashi rocks in that hard, that deep, but Mika rips it
away, shoving a pair of fingers past his lips and against his tongue. A low,
grateful moan escapes Izumi’s throat instead, and he sucks on those fingers as
Mika shifts to better match Arashi’s rhythm, his own breath ragged as he grinds
his cock in deep.
“He likes it so much, kara,” Mika dazedly murmurs, his other hand digging into
the mattress to brace himself when he shoves up, his chest heaving at how tight
it is, how hard it is to even move. Izumi’s cock twitches and drips over
Arashi’s fingers, down onto Mika’s stomach as well, and he twists the fingers
against Izumi’s tongue, feeling it curl and eagerly follow them. “He’s…nnh…y-
yeah, we gotta steal him, I’ve never been in anyone so tight before…”
“We’re stealing him,” Arashi promises, slamming in hard and deep, squeezing and
stroking Izumi’s cock, feeling the power course through him. He loves the this
part, loves feeling someone else come undone because he’s fucking them so good,
loves the sense of raw power that comes with it. “We’re gonna--keep him to use
like this,” he breathes, rocking up hard, setting a punishing rhythm, rubbing
the pad of his thumb over the head of Izumi’s cock. “Whenever you need someone-
-to fuck--or a mouth to put your cock in, and he’ll be so grateful--won’t you,
darling?”
A rasping, desperate groan escapes Izumi’s throat, and he nods mindlessly,
pitching forward and clinging to Mika’s shoulders to try and brace himself when
his body seizes up helplessly with those words, with both of them spreading him
so far open that he can barely breathe, with Mika’s fingers on his tongue and
Arashi’s on his cock. His cock twitches hard, the tension taking him by
surprise, making him squeeze down so hard around them both that he sobs when he
spills over Arashi’s fingers, dripping messily over them splattering across
Mika’s chest and belly.
Mika shudders hard. His chin hooks over Izumi’s shoulder as he rocks up
hungrily, panting into his hair, his own cock giving a threatening twitch
inside. “K…kara…I can’t w-wait anymore—“
“’s fine,” Izumi manages, his head lolling back so he can talk, tongue flicking
out over bruised lips. “You…ah…g-gods…y-you can come in me and Arashi can keep
going as long as he needs, it…I like it…”
Izumi barely gets to finish talking before Mika whimpers, biting down into
Izumi’s shoulder to keep his voice down, and it’s suddenly much slicker inside
of him, much easier for both of them to move, which just makes Izumi writhe
with a low groan, squirming down even though his limbs threaten to melt out
from underneath him.
The delight Arashi feels from watching Izumi and Mika come apart is hot in his
veins, something victorious, sizzling through him. “You’re both so beautiful,”
he murmurs, pressing a kiss to Izumi’s neck, then reaching out to brush a touch
to Mika’s cheek.
He gives another few thrusts, then another few, grabbing Izumi’s hips and
increasing his pace. His brow furrows after a few moments, and he tries to
focus, thinking of how lovely Izumi is around him, how beautiful Mika looks,
how much they both love him, how sweet they both are, how good they looked
sucking his cock.
But just as strong is the smell of this place, the familiar sounds downstairs,
the light coming in the window that he knows is coming from his father’s house.
Nothing seems to work. His orgasm retreats, getting farther and farther away.
His cock is still hard, but he grunts, pulling out, turning away so Izumi
doesn’t see his face. “That was gorgeous, darling, thank you.”
Izumi shifts, grimacing, limbs shaky as he pulls away, letting Mika’s cock
slide from his body. That’s a sticky mess he doesn’t want to deal with at the
moment, so he ignores it. Mika, bless him, is as out of it as he always is
after a good orgasm—sleepy and flushed as he reaches out when Izumi leans away.
“Nnh…cuddle.”
“In a minute,” Izumi reassures him, pushing Mika’s sweaty hair into his face.
Mika seems unconcerned and rolls sideways, curling into a ball, and Izumi
exhales as he turns, crawling over, gingerly touching Arashi’s arm. “Hey,” he
softly says, “I’ll finish you off however you want. Sorry, I didn’t mean to
make it about me.”
Arashi forces a smile, turning to press a kiss to Izumi’s cheek. “You didn’t,
it’s just me. Don’t worry about it. I’m...ugh, maybe I’ll go into the woods and
punch a tree for a while, I’ve got a lot of weird energy.”
Izumi spares another glance to Mika—now drooling into the pillow, already fast
asleep—and he sighs, pushing his hair out of his face. “Must be nice, to have a
mind that shuts right the fuck up like that,” he murmurs, then he shakes out
his hands, cracking his knuckles. “Lie down, I’ll give you a back rub,” he
orders. “It’s pouring down rain and you just got dry.”
Arashi huffs, then flops down, rolling carefully onto his stomach, adjusting
his still-hard cock underneath him. “I hope this isn’t just me getting old,” he
says frankly, “because it really stinks. Work your magic fingers. Hey, think
you can heal memories?”
“I’d be a much less irritable person if I could,” Izumi dryly says, neatly
settling himself to straddle the backs of Arashi’s thighs. His thumbs
immediately dig into the base of Arashi’s spine before dragging upward,
starting at the source of all of his tension. “Maybe this’ll get you off, if
you can relax a bit. I’m sorry we have to stay here tonight. I’d be the same
way, if we were in the capital.”
“Fair enough,” Arashi says, then groans when Izumi hits some beautiful pressure
points, loosening his muscles in a way that makes him drool against the bed.
“S-sounds good. Ugh, you take such good care of me...we’re not joking, run away
with us, we want you.”
Izumi says nothing for a moment, focusing instead on splaying his fingers out
against the lean, solid muscle of Arashi’s back and pushing his weight into his
slow, methodical kneading. “Say it again, and I might,” he quietly says.
“Don’t be an idiot.” Arashi turns, laying his cheek against the blanket, giving
Izumi a wry smile. “Even if you wanted to run away, I don’t. I’ve worked too
damn hard to get where I am to run away from it now.”
“Who says you have to run away?” Izumi mutters, shoving Arashi’s hair up and
out of the way to get at his shoulders next. “You just keep doing what you’re
doing, and I’ll go with you.”
“And if--ahhh, fuck, fuck, that’s good--if what I’m doing...is supporting your
prince?”
“Fine. All the better for it.” Izumi hesitates, running a thumb down the back
of Arashi’s neck, then pressing his fingers in, slowly rubbing. “It’s not that
I don’t support him, or that I don’t want to,” he softly says. “The idea of
going back to the capital right now…it makes me sick. I know, suck it up,
pretty boy, whatever.”
Arashi huffs out a mirthless laugh. “If you think I’d say that, after freaking
out about being back in this town, you think I’m a total hypocrite.” He closes
his eyes, letting Izumi touch him, then says almost casually, “It was in the
stables downstairs. In this building.”
“Fuck.” Izumi’s hands still for a second, and he sighs, flopping down against
Arashi’s back, running his fingers up through his hair, along his scalp. “I’m
sorry.”
“Like you said. Nowhere else. I did try to sleep in the woods.”
Arashi shifts back, closing his eyes as he nestles against Izumi. He doesn’t
mean to start talking, but his mouth, his stupid, runaway mouth, seems to have
other ideas. “They were older than me. Fifteen, twenty, nineteen, something
like that. I was getting water for my mother. I remember so clearly, the
tanners had brought their things a day early and the tubs were contaminated,
she had to change it out. I had this huge stick, and I’d slide buckets onto
each end so I could carry a lot more at one time. I was on my way back from the
river, uphill. It was my fourth trip, and my legs were wobbling, I was so
tired.”
He swallows. Shadows shift on the walls, from trees in the wind outside. “They
grabbed me outside the stables. I thought they were going to rough me up, so I
brought the stick. I was so damn angry, they made me spill the buckets and I
was already so tired, but...they broke it in two, right over Goran’s knee. Eris
hit me in the back with one half. I fell. I...gods, I felt like a man, but I
couldn’t have been more than twelve.” His throat closes, and he blinks rapidly,
trying to calm the racing of his heart.
Izumi shifts, rolling onto his side, and he gingerly pulls Arashi back against
him to properly spoon him. “I mean it, you know,” he quietly says, mouth
against Arashi’s hair. “I’m going to turn around in the morning and slaughter
them.”
“I picked up the stick after they left.”
Arashi’s voice quavers, as if he hasn’t heard a thing Izumi said, hands
twisting in the blanket. “I had--I had to keep getting water home, but it
wouldn’t--I just kept trying to put it back together, but it wouldn’t stick, it
wouldn’t--and I tried wrapping it with rope, I tried everything, but the second
I put any weight on it it would just snap again, and Ma smacked me for being
late, and Pop for breaking the stick, and--”
He cuts himself off, hearing the note of hysteria in his voice. One deep breath
in, one deep breath out. “After that...everything that seemed annoying about
this place seemed...intolerable. People laughing too loud at night, I was sure
they were laughing at me. Men pushing each other around, it just looked like
they were getting ready to do damage, everything--everything that was funny
just seemed cruel. So I ran away. Haven’t been back since. Until today.”
Another apology for having to stay here, even for a second, seems useless at
best. Izumi just nods instead, giving Arashi’s waist a slow, even squeeze. “I
get it,” he says instead, his voice soft and even. “I do. But I’m here, this
time.” For whatever that’s worth, I suppose.
Arashi rubs at his face, but it’s dry, as if his tears are so old they couldn’t
imagine falling after so long. “It feels so stupid to be upset about,” he
admits on a whisper. “I couldn’t tell Mika--his story is so, so much harder,
and what you went through is so much worse...I feel like a coward. I hate
that.”
“Arashi. It’s not a contest.” Izumi lifts a hand to toy with the ends of
Arashi’s hair gently. “It’s still fucking disgusting, what they did. All of it
is.”
“Yeah.” At least he can agree on that much. He reaches up, twining his fingers
with Izumi’s, and then takes a long breath. When he exhales, what comes out is,
“I want you to fuck me.”
What follows is a weighted pause, and Izumi wondering if his typically sex-
addled brain misheard. “Wait. What?”
“Fuck me.”
Arashi moves Izumi’s hand to his hip, closing his eyes as he shifts back. “You
know how to do it. I’m literally never going to offer again if you don’t do it
now.”
“Shit, you’re serious,” Izumi mutters, forcing his mind to process, forcing his
body to move. “All right—ah—where’d the oil go,” he exhales, shifting to pat
around on the bed until he finds it, tangled up in the sheets. “I’ll do it
however you want, but let me finger you first.”
“You’ve--you’ve done this with--ugh, the word virgin sounds really wrong,
but...guys that don’t do this often, right?” Arashi asks, trying not to let the
trepidation creep into his voice. He fists his hand in the blanket, eyes
wandering to Mika’s dozing form as he adjusts. “Should I roll onto my stomach
again, or...?”
“I have, and I’m good at it,” Izumi reassures him, pressing a kiss to the back
of Arashi’s shoulder. “You can just stay on your side, if that’s comfortable.
If you hate it, I’ll stop, and I’ll give you the best blowjob of your life,” he
says with a soft laugh, pouring the oil over his fingers, and trailing one of
them neatly down the cleft of Arashi’s ass. “Sometimes, one finger feel
kinda…meh,” he murmurs, but he doesn’t let Arashi shy away just yet, and simply
rubs that first finger against his hole. “So give it a minute. Deep breath.
Think about how good I make it look when you’re fucking me.”
“You never let me finger you,” Arashi says on a laugh, but it hitches. He
instinctively wants to flinch away, but bites down on his bottom lip, forcing
himself to stay still. “It’s--sorry, it’s not that it feels bad, it’s just an
instinct. How do I keep from clenching?”
“Bullshit, you’ve fingered me before. I remember one time vividly, that night
in the North, when you plotted an orgy with me at the center without even a
single warning…” Izumi leans up, trying the trick that Mika had so aptly
demonstrated earlier of sucking on the lobe of Arashi’s ear, the dragging his
tongue up along the rim of it. Arashi relaxes for a second, or rather, is
distracted enough not to be impossibly tense, and he slides that finger in to
the second knuckle, immediately curling it back towards himself with a
deliberate stroke. “This is just a different kind of massage, honestly,” he
teases, pressing and rubbing. “Think about it like you’re riding a horse—too
tense, and you’ll fall right off. So just relax and move with it, it’s a lot
easier that way.”
Arashi sucks in a breath. The sudden invasion feels almost painful at first,
reminding him unpleasantly of other activities he’d rather not think of right
now, but Izumi’s advice is good. He breathes, then takes the advice quite
literally, riding down against Izumi’s hand as if he’s in the saddle, letting
his mouth part as he does. “It’s...not bad,” he manages. Hell, he’s had all of
his bones broken at some point or another, this is nothing.
“There you go,” Izumi murmurs, gently nipping at the lobe of Arashi’s ear.
“That’s better. Mmn, hold on, I know one finger doesn’t feel that great, it’s
more irritating than anything…”
When Arashi moves against him, he carefully works a second finger inside, and
that’s much easier to rub and stroke against the little textured spot that he
finds when he presses them in deep. “Better, Milady?”
Arashi lets out a hiss, pushing back before he understands what his body is
doing, seeking more of that elusive sensation, and more inside of him by
extension. He lets out a groan, and nods, reaching down to hoist one of his own
legs up higher, giving Izumi better access. “B-better, yes, yes, good--shit,
call me that more, let me be your lady...”
“You are my lady.” Izumi presses up closer, letting his own, renewed erection
rub against Arashi’s lower back as his fingers work him over, stroking firmly
when he isn’t spreading his fingers wider, helping to ease out some of that
aching tension that he can still feel shivering down Arashi’s spine. “Fuck,
you’d be the perfect woman, you know that?” he murmurs. “I’d marry you in a
heartbeat, but we’d get nothing done because I’d always want to be in you.”
Most days, Arashi doesn’t give a shit how most people see him. He’s content to
be seen however people want to see him, content to be the soldier, the leader,
the lord that folks assume him to be, even if...
Even if...
Even if just now, Izumi pressing fingers into him, assuring him that he’s a
lovely woman, alluring and cute and irresistible, makes him muffle a cry into
the blanket, sending more shivers through him than the entire time he’d had his
cock buried inside Izumi. He shudders, cock jumping between his thighs, and
hoists his leg up higher, parting his thighs as much as he can. “Let me,” he
breathes, “be your lady, your bride, please...”
Izumi exhales a hot, eager breath against the back of Arashi’s neck, mouthing a
wet kiss there as he slowly pulls his hand out, wiping it on the sheets before
he fumbles for the bottle of oil again. “Let me drag you up North and you can
be,” he pants against his ear, hurriedly pouring the oil into the palm of his
hand, swiping it down his cock, and letting the head of his cock nudge against
that now-slick hole. He’d take more time with this, but when it’s a matter of
making sure Arashi enjoys himself, he has to be in a bit of a hurry. He loops
an arm underneath Arashi’s thigh, helping to pull it up, to open him even more
as he sucks on the side of his neck. “Having you like this—makes me think of
being back in the Sandlands, when you were so pissed that no one thought you
were the whore,” he sighs, biting his lip as he eases the head of his cock
inside, his eyes fluttering when it starts to sink in. “T…their loss—I’d pay
good money for someone like you.”
“Fuck!”
 The shout escapes before Arashi can stop himself, and he clenches down hard,
eyes squeezed tightly shut as he tries to relax, tries to breathe, tries to do
anything besides lie impaled on Izumi’s cock, as if that’s his entire life from
now on, the only thing that matters. He squirms back, feeling as if he’s got to
be some kind of active participant, but Izumi knows just where to touch him,
just how to stroke and tease and thrust, and he feels himself drooling onto the
blanket. “You’re--ahhh, ahhhhh, please, that’s so--hnn, you’re--”
His hand flails up, and connects with something hard--Mika’s ankle. He groans,
pulling his hand back, and somehow finds the correct combination of muscles and
breathing to help him relax, bearing down as Izumi’s cock suddenly slides in
deep.
Izumi’s own breath leaves in a heady rush, and he presses another kiss to
Arashi’s shoulder, trembling as his hips roll forward, grinding in those last
few centimeters until their skin presses flush. He glances up briefly to where
Mika cracks open an eye, sticks his tongue out at him, and then promptly
snuggles further down into mattress. Good, of course you get it. “Shh, Milady,
you’re going to wake up our neighbors,” he whispers, a firm nudge rolling
Arashi over, urging him onto his stomach where it’s easier for Izumi to shove
in deep when he rises up to his knees behind him. He plants a hand next to
Arashi’s head as he shoves in, hissing out a sharp breath at how tight he is,
but it’s far from impossible now when Arashi arches back against him. “A pretty
lady you might be, but a proper one you’re not—the way you’re moving makes it
feel like you love this.”
“Y-you don’t want a proper lady, though,” Arashi breathes, letting his eyes
stay closed, giving himself up to sensation. He presses back, again and again,
each time feeling the slick burn of Izumi deep inside of him, making a mental
note to be a lot more gentle the next time he’s on top, overwhelmed by the
sheer friction of it all. “You want...a woman like me. A woman who...likes
being this way...for you...Milord...”
There’s an almost sick heat in his belly, deep and raw, making him feel too-
hungry and too-full at the same time, blood pounding as he arches back, cock
rising, swelling, aching. “And I...love it, fuck--”
“Damn right you do,” Izumi grunts, shoving forward when Arashi arches back. His
hand paws around underneath him, tempted to grab for his cock and help him
along—but on second thought, his fingers drag up to Arashi’s nipples, pulling
and twisting one of them as he rolls his hips in slowly. “Don’t worry,” he
rasps against Arashi’s neck. “I’ll make sure—to—ahh—fuck you like this every
day, Milady. Until you’re bowlegged and aching—until there’s no way for you to
fake being proper…you’ll look like you really…belong in the Sandlands, no
better than a fancy whore.” Izumi licks his lips, and shivers as he nips at
Arashi’s shoulder. “My whore.”
Arashi’s orgasm takes him by surprise, hips jerking forward as he spills onto
the mattress in a long stream, far more than he remembers ever coming before,
bucking back onto Izumi’s thick cock thrusting into him. He bites into the
blanket to keep from screaming, trying to get his thighs farther apart to let
Izumi in deep, breath choking on a sob. “M-my lord, please--you’re where you--
ahh, where you belong, aren’t you?”
Izumi shoves his face into Arashi’s hair, panting hard through his next few
thrusts, grabbing at Arashi’s hips to hold him still as he grinds in deep.
Arashi is so tight around him that his eyes cross, and he spills with a ragged
gasp, refusing to take too long, to draw it out and make it too much to the
point of painful. “You—ahh…fuck…gods, you feel like heaven,” he manages around
a ragged laugh, his eyes fluttering as he leans back, blinking sweat out of his
eyes. His cock twitches again, making him hiss, and he wobbles, slumping down
into Arashi’s back. “And like a mess…heh. Sorry.”
Arashi sucks in a few ragged breath, feeling the sweat pool between his
shoulderblades, just breathing against the blanket for a long minute. Then,
finally, he murmurs simply, “Thank you.”
“Any time.” Izumi plants a kiss to Arashi’s hair, and slowly, carefully pulls
out, an absent touch along his lower back quickly intended to ease any sting
and ache beyond something pleasant. He flops to the side, holding out his arms.
“Cuddle with me. It’s my turn to bitch now.”
Arashi throws an arm over Izumi’s chest, dragging him close, pressing a kiss to
his temple. “You’re beautiful. Bitch to me.”
Pleased, Izumi nestles up against him, finding a warm, comfortable place with
his face half-buried into Arashi’s shoulder. “I didn’t get to tell you why I
turned around and came back to High Harbor. I mean,” he admits, “it was
partially because of you. I already felt sick about leaving you lot behind the
second I rode off.”
Mika shifts in his sleep, rolling over to flatting himself against Arashi’s
back, drooling in his hair. Izumi rolls his eyes, reaching over to poke him,
testing if he’s still asleep for real this time. He doesn’t stir, so that’s
something. “Some backstory. I sobbed my heart out to Leo on the beach and told
him everything, right? He took it upon himself to swear vengeance for me and
told me he’d handle all of it and all of the men that tortured me would be
declared war criminals and executed. Sounds nice in theory, doesn’t it?”
“The way you say it makes me want to stab him through the wall,” Arashi says
softly, stroking Izumi’s hair. “And you haven’t even gotten to the part where
he lets you down like a spineless coward yet.”
“Oh, just wait. I’m getting there.” Izumi eyebrows raise. “So we head back to
the capital. We were barely a day out before Leo decided to tell me he was
changing all of the plans we agreed on, and he was going to try and reason with
his father. And if his father accepted him back, then all of those men? Well. I
can take them to court, obviously. Because that’s the kind of thing you want to
do with six different rapists, all the heads of upstanding noble houses, when
you’re still a page trying to maybe rise up in society at some point in his
life. It’s not like he can do anything, he reminded me. He wasn’t there, he
can’t testify as a witness.” His lips purse, and he shuts his eyes briefly. “He
eventually felt guilty, I suppose, and killed one of them. Left him as a gift
in my mother’s camp, not that I got to see it, because I already left. I told
him I’m over it, but I’m not, really. I…I wish I knew how to be, but that…shit
like that really cuts deep, you know?”
“Want me to kill him for you, after I’m done with the remaining five?” Arashi
asks, only half-joking. “Honestly...I know you love the boy, but that’s bad. I
still think he’ll be a good king, but he clearly needs someone to straighten
him out. At least let me beat him up a little.”
“No, no, don’t beat him up, I already slapped him…after he asked me to,” Izumi
glumly says. “I bring this on myself. He means well, he does, he just…he gets
so wrapped up in everything and doesn’t know what to do.” He heaves a sigh.
“And now he wants me to go and fight the Captain of the Kingsguard…which I
already agreed to, it’s not the fight that’s the problem, I’m not afraid of
this guy, even if he’s some magical half-blood. It’s the fact that he still
doesn’t understand why I’m hemming and hawing about going back to the capital.
Hello, they’re still all alive, why do I want to show my face there and duel a
guy while they’re all watching? So he jokes about me being afraid. Well, yes,
asshole, thanks for mentioning it, but not about what you think I’m afraid of.”
Arashi huffs. “Listen...I think he’s awful for this, honestly. But I’m just
going to throw out one thing you might want to think of from his perspective if
you want--or if you don’t, just tell me, and we’ll just talk about how he’s
shit.”
“No, I’m begging you, give me perspective. I can’t stop thinking about this
shit and I really wish I could make it go away.” Izumi feels his lower lip
wobble, and he bites it, hard. “I really love him. I just feel like I got
slapped in the face, and for no good reason. Help.”
Arashi presses a kiss to Izumi’s temple, holding him close. “I’ve met him a few
times. And I’ve heard him talk about you plenty of times, too. And honestly? I
bet he just can’t imagine you genuinely being afraid of something, or not being
able to handle something. And mostly, I think that because I get it. And the
only, the only reason I know how much it’s bothering you is because...because
I’ve been raped, too. And I know how it fucks you up. He doesn’t know, does he?
And you think--you’d think you could understand, but I guarantee...I don’t know
if it’s better or worse, but...I’m so sure he can only see that same strong
young man he’s always known, because how can you ever imagine how bad it will
mess with you, until it happens?”
He huffs, shaking his head. “Sorry to lecture. Just a thought.”
“You’re not lecturing.” Izumi sighs, flapping an arm where it drapes over
Arashi’s side. “I know that’s what it is, I know. But it’s just…so tiring to
keep faking like I’m the same, you know? And when I give up and stop faking it,
and just try to do what I want so I feel better, he gets uppity because that’s
not what he wants. That kind of thing never used to irritate me, I used to like
it, but now…” He shrugs helplessly. “Why won’t he just go kill everyone for me?
I feel like I deserve it. I know you can’t answer that, I know. Sorry.”
“Nah. But this is literally the same thing that happened to me, after...”
Arashi grimaces. “Kind of a shitty side effect. But yeah. Everything that
seemed harmless before suddenly felt malicious. You can think he’s shitty for a
while, but...if you think, honestly think that being around him is bad and
you’re not going to get over it, you’ve got to end it with him.”
Arashi wrestles with himself for a moment, then plows on. “And you don’t want
to hear it, but all you’re ever going to be is his secret concubine, because
he’s the fucking prince. And honestly, when you keep pestering him to do things
that the king can’t do, like let him marry you...you’re making him feel like
nothing he does will be enough. I’ve seen it, darling. I know you’re just
lashing out, but you’re making it harder on yourself.”
“I know.” Izumi’s voice is quiet, and he sighs, rolling onto his back, throwing
an arm over his face. “I know that. I avoided even flirting with him as much as
I could for seven years because I knew I’d be like this. That’s why when you
say shit like ‘run away with me, let us kidnap you’—it’s so…cathartic. Because
I know you actually mean it, and you’re not just talking about a random
fantasy. You already ran away once, he never can if he wants to keep living the
life that he’s become accustomed to. And he does, I know.”
“I’m with you, but you can’t let this be a pity party,” Arashi says gently,
stroking Izumi’s hair. “I’m so with you, but you know it’s not about his
lifestyle, it’s about wanting to change shit. I barely know him and I know that
much. And that’s worse, because if it were about his lifestyle, he’d be a prick
you shouldn’t bother with. So...do you want to stay, knowing that he’s going to
put the country above you--always, which is good, because a king should--or do
you want to get out while you can?”
Izumi shrugs, saying nothing for a moment, until Mika pipes up against Arashi’s
back: “He fucked the Emperor. Dump ‘im.”
Izumi sputters on a short, wet laugh, and he flops a hand tiredly. “Go back to
sleep, gods. I don’t know. I’m…I didn’t expect him to show up while we were
heading out here and I wasn’t done thinking about all of it, so I really don’t
know yet. I just want to kill some people and stop being stressed all the
time.”
“More importantly,” Arashi interjects, sliding a hand back to squeeze Mika’s,
“who were you thinking about while we were fucking you? It wasn’t your pretty
prince.”
Izumi blinks, then flushes, rolling onto his side and presenting them both with
his back. “I was hoping you’d forget about that. You still could, actually.”
“Nope, now I wanna know,” Mika sighs, snuggling up more firmly against Arashi’s
back, face buried into his hair as he twines their fingers together. “C’mon,
share, share.”
“Seriously, he must have really gotten in your head if you’re thinking about
him while we’re in you,” Arashi teases, nipping at Izumi’s shoulder. “Share,
share!”
“You two are the worst! Ugh, I wasn’t even thinking about someone, not really!”
Izumi protests, swatting Arashi away. “You asked when the last time I had
someone in me was, and I…well, I thought back to then, that’s all.”
“Whoooo.”
“You sound like a creepy ghost when you do that, stop it. Fine, fine, it was
Yuukun. Makoto. You know, the cute blond one…”
“Yeah, we know who he is,” Arashi says, amused. “Mika’s sucked his cock, after
all. Remember, amaka? The surprisingly well-hung Dawncloak?”
“Yeah, he’s cute,” Mika says, hooking his chin over Arashi’s shoulder to peer
over at Izumi. “And he’s got a nice enough dick, I guess. Didn’t really see him
bein’ your type so hard, buuut…”
“Oh, shut up,” Izumi grumpily retorts. “I’ve known him forever and he made me
feel good when I was feeling really shitty, that’s all. Ugh, I hope he’s doing
all right, I didn’t want to leave him behind in High Harbor but it’s the safest
place for him right now…”
“Listen to him,” Mika whispers in Arashi’s ear, as if Izumi can’t hear him.
“He’s all flustered, it’s cute.”
“I know, it’s adorable,” Arashi replies in a stage whisper. “Don’t worry,
idiot. You can be in love with more than one person at once, obviously. I’m in
love with both of you, for example.”
“I’m not—you two are being terrible and I hate you.”
“He’s so mad, it’s real adorable.” Mika hums as he snuggles against Arashi’s
back, thoroughly amused. “Mmn, well, I hope he loves you back. He hasn’t fucked
the Emperor.”
Izumi groans, and pulls the blankets up and over his head.
***** Chapter 44 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
The walls are thin, but that isn’t Natsume’s problem when it comes to sleeping.
At some point, while Leo and Tsukasa are whispering and arguing about whether
or not Leo is allowed to masturbate, he rolls off of the bed and to the floor.
It’s cooler down there, which is both a blessing and a curse. He was overly
warm a moment ago, swaddled in a rough blanket, but now, he’s almost too-
chilled, and he huddles there, crawling underneath the bed itself with a stolen
pillow to try and find some solace.
He hears Tsukasa call his name at one point to check on him, but Natsume
ignores him, pursuing sleep instead.
He knows he sleeps, but it’s no good. The darkness is fuzzy, wet, cold,
uncomfortably hot, all of those things together, pressing in on him. The dreams
he has are dark and impossible to distinguish anything coherent from, until
dawn breaks, pouring light slowly in through the uncovered window.
Tsumugi—glasses gone, hair bloodied, hands bloodied, everything bloody, pale
and limp in the Emperor’s grasp. The Emperor—white and pristine, platinum hair
in his face until he tosses Tsumugi to the ground like a broken doll, and wipes
his bloodied hands on a handkerchief before fixing his hair as if nothing out
of the ordinary just happened—
 “Come here, my little songbird.”
 Natsume bolts awake so abruptly that he knocks his head on the bed slats above
him, wide-eyed and trembling. He stares upward, feeling the sweat roll down his
back and the tears down his face, feeling his entire body shake.
“Natsume?” Tsukasa’s voice is muddled from sleep, and the bed shifts above
Natsume’s head. “Are you awake?”
Natsume slinks back further underneath the blankets, his breath hiccuping.
“Sorry,” he whispers, hoping he’s heard. “I…bad dream. Sorry, it’s early, go
back to sleep.”
“Can’t go back to sleep,” Leo yawns, rolling over to look down at Natsume. “Not
when the kid who sees the future looks so scared. What’s wrong? Can we stop
it?”
Natsume stares back at him, still wide-eyed and trembling, but not entirely
seeing. “I…it..it was just a dream.” If he says that enough, maybe it’ll be
true. His hands are sweaty, and he grips at his blanket in hopes they’ll stop
being like that.
Tsukasa shuts his eyes, rakes a hand back through his hair, and slowly slides
out of bed. “I should get Mika.”
Leo drapes himself over the edge of the bed, gently squeezing Natsume’s
shoulder. “What happened?” he asks again, a little more urgently. “Do your
dreams come true sometimes? Mine do, when I dream about what we’re going to
have for lunch the next day, but this seems different. Kid, go get Mika.”
Natsume jerks underneath the touch, and promptly slithers further underneath
the bed, hopefully out of reach this time.
Tsukasa spares a last, worried glance at the sight before quietly slipping from
the room to walk next door, knocking on the door gingerly. “Captain?” he calls
softly. “Captain, I hate to wake you, but if we could borrow His Excellency for
a moment…”
“No,” Arashi says on a yawn, but gently shakes Mika awake. “Go, do something
magic.”
“Nooo…” Mika moans, rolling to the side to stuff his face into the pillow of
Izumi’s hair. “Too warm. Comfy.”
Izumi growls, kicking him half-heartedly. “’s fucking early, get it over with
and come back,” he mumbles.
Mika growls back, thoroughly disgruntled, but he slowly pries himself away and
out of bed, grabbing only his cloak to wrap himself up in as he stomps to the
door, hair entirely askew. Tsukasa looks appropriately terrified when he opens
it and glowers up at him. “What.”
“It’s, ah, His Excellency Natsume.”
Mika grumbles, pulling the door shut, and heads next door—or rather, only
barely steps into the room before the thick, stifling weight of magic hits him
as if he just ran into a brick wall. His eyes water, and he winces, lingering
in the doorway for a moment before he forces himself forward. “Ow, ow, ow,” he
mutters, rubbing a hand across his eyes as he drops down next to the bed.
“Natsu, what—“
Natsume bolts out from underneath the bed like a frightened cat, latching onto
Mika’s waist as he trembles. Mika bites back a squawk of surprise, forcing
himself to settle, even though his eyes burn just looking at Natsume.
Unintentional magic from Nightcloaks, that’s a new one, and it’s baffling even
regular humans can’t feel the unpleasant pressure of it that makes him want to
flee immediately. “Shh, shh, you’re fine, ’s fine.” It’s probably not fine, but
what the hell can he do?
Natsume lifts his head from his lap, staring at him, obviously terrified, then
lurches up to whisper in his ear. Mika hesitates, then looks over to Leo. “He,
uh. Says he keeps hearin’ stuff about you, and it’s freakin’ him out, so maybe
you should…go next door for a bit and we’ll see if it stops.”
“I was trying to help,” Leo protests. “I’m worried about him...”
He shrugs, then grabs a cloak, tugging it around himself and hustling out of
the room. “Feel better! If there’s anything I can do, let me know!”
He heads next door, pacing rather than sitting, full of nervous energy. Arashi
yawns hugely, not bothering to cover up his nudity. “Everything all right, your
Highness?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t know. He’s acting--really weird. Scary. I have a
feeling something really bad is happening and he’s not telling us about it.”
“Too early for this shit,” Izumi mutters, still half-asleep, and he rolls over,
just as naked as Arashi, and stretches out a hand. “Come here. Stop pacing,
you’re making me hurt watching you. Wizards do this sometimes, it’s not that
abnormal.”
“You didn’t see him. He looked like something was eating him from the inside.”
Leo’s brow furrows, but he sits on the bed, taking Izumi’s hand and cuddling up
to him. “I’m scared, it looked really bad. He was crying like...he didn’t even
know he was crying. Just staring, with the tears running down, and he was
making weird noises all night. Guh, cuddle me please, you smell nice. Like
men.”
Izumi grunts, and drags Leo down more thoroughly, squashing him down into the
bed. “Wizards,” he sleepily repeats, “are like this. Especially the really
strong ones. Their magic is strange and scary, and sometimes even they can’t
seem to really keep a hold on it. Mm, tell him, Arashi. It almost sounds like
some of the attacks Mika’s had before…”
“Wizards are...” Arashi pauses for a huge yawn. “Real delicate. And grumpy. And
weird, and they cry about stuff sometimes and you’re not supposed to ask about
it.”
“Sounds like women,” Leo mutters, tucking his face into Izumi’s chest. “You
sounded like you had a fun night. Tsukasa wouldn’t even let me masturbate.”
“Sounds like a prissy rich boy problem, but okay,” Izumi yawns, rubbing a hand
down Leo’s back. “You should’ve done it anyway. Sorry if we kept you up. Mmn,
but yeah, what Arashi said. Wizards just do that. Weird little things, all of
them…”
Just as he starts to doze again, the door swings open again, and Mika quietly
steps back inside, sans Natsume. He looks ruffled, shaken, almost like he’s
itchy in his own skin, and he doesn’t quite seem able to look at Leo. “He
passed out again,” he softly says, rubbing at his own arms through his cloak.
“I don’t know how good he’s gonna be at travelin’ today, but I know we gotta.
Maybe…maybe give him a couple of hours. Kara, can I talk to you?”
Arashi sighs, abandoning the idea of getting any more sleep. He rolls out of
the bed, yanking his trousers and shirt on, tossing his cloak over his
shoulders. “Lead me where you need me, amaka. Do I need my sword?”
“Uh uh, I just need to talk to you.” Mika steps back out into the hall, pulling
the door shut after them and tugging him next door. “In here, it’s okay if
Tsukasa hears,” he quietly says, because at least a thin wall is better than
nothing. Tsukasa sits on the edge of the bed, bleary-eyed and obviously
exhausted, and Natsume is passed out on the bed, a tiny ball amidst a pile of
blankets. “Natsume’s prophecies are always correct,” he says once the doors
shut. “And this one…well. I tried to silence his mind a bit, which I hope was
the right thing t’do, ‘cause he was so scared, and that’s when he went back to
sleep. But before that…I got some details.” He hesitates. “He saw Tsumugi die.
By the Emperor’s hand. Which…is real bad. Apparently, only Tsumugi knows how to
kill him.”
Arashi’s body goes still. That happens in the beginning of a battle, when his
mind starts preparing to fight. “Okay. First things first, plan of action.
Questions--can his prophecies be changed, and when is this going to happen?
Fuck, that Makoto boy is at High Harbor too, isn’t he...”
“From what Master told me about him before, I…I don’t think we can change
anythin’. I don’t know when it’s gonna happen, either, Natsu didn’t say, so
maybe he doesn’t know.” Mika bites his lip, folding his arms across his chest.
“That’s not all, though. He apparently saw a lot of Leo in it, too, but…he was
a lot more vague about it, and when I tried to get him to clarify…”
“He wouldn’t stop shaking,” Tsukasa quietly confirms, hands on his knees.
“He kept acting like he was still seein’ it play out in front of him right then
and there…whatever it was. That’s why I sent Leo out.” Mika shivers, shaking
his head. “Scary. I…maybe I should try to contact Master, he might know what to
do…”
Arashi chews on his bottom lip, trying to think. “I’ve never worked with
wizards that could see the future before,” he admits. “I don’t really know what
to do. I’m used to the ones that can spot berserkers, but this...”
He shakes his head. “Right. I think probably...the best thing we can do is
continue as we have, and keep the prince safe. I’ll have a talk with Izumi. We
can’t afford to let any personal things get in the way of this, not now. If the
Emperor is still gaining power, we’ll have to hope that your master is already
going through a plan he’s got in place. We leave as soon as everyone’s ready.”
“He’s probably gonna be out for another hour at least,” Mika apologetically
says, glancing back to the bed again. Natsume sleeps, but with his brow
furrowed, hands clutching too-tightly at the blankets. “There’s never been
another wizard on record that can see the future like he can. Minor
predictions, sure, but full events that always come true…” He bites his lip
again. “It doesn’t make sense, though. The Emperor…he should be real weak right
now. He wasn’t injured, but the Faerie was. They’re bonded real strong, it
should affect him a lot.”
“Obviously not,” Tsukasa points out, “if he has the time to also agree to His
Highness’s ideas and toy with him.”
“Yeah, that’s weird, too,” Mika admits, frowning. “Master always talked about
how strong the Emperor and Faerie’s bond was—like, it was almost as good as his
and the Demon King’s. That means the Emperor…well, kara, you know how Master
was, he barely wanted to touch anyone that wasn’t Rei, ‘cuz it felt wrong.
Definitely didn’t wanna have sex with no one else—so if the Emperor’s running
off doing that…something ain’t right…” Mika heaves a sigh, shutting his eyes
when they start to ache. “I ain’t smart enough for this, I wish Master was
here…”
“He’s not human, though, right?” Arashi asks quietly, sitting on the edge of
the bed, tugging Mika into his arms. “Like, we know a few half-breeds, we know
how different they are from regular people. Even whatever my great-great
whatevers were, that’s let me survive stuff that no one could, and that guy who
rescued me in the ocean, he’s way, way less human. Obviously, the Emperor isn’t
much human, or he’d be affected more. That makes sense, right? I don’t know
much about magic...”
Mika shakes his head as he flops against Arashi’s chest, curling his arms
around his neck. “Maybe,” he admits. “But half-breeds are usually way more
affected by bonds and things like that,” Mika softly says. “Even weak ones turn
to distraction, if they know they’re there…nnnn, I dunno either, this is all
real stressful.”
Behind them, Natsume shifts, whimpering in his sleep, reaching out with one
hand to grab at the back of Arashi’s cloak.
Arashi sighs, then lifts Natsume from the bed, settling him on his lap. “Here
you go, darling, I’m warm and strong, that’s nice when you’re having a
nightmare, eh? Shh, you’re fine, I’ve got you...Someone’s going to take care of
you, I promise.” How many times have his men come across children in a village
that’s been devastated by the Inglings, whimpering and crying just like this
after seeing their loved ones die? How many times has he heard them in the
middle of the night and been drawn, helpless, to hold them like this?
“He’s so little,” Mika quietly says, scooting over to make room for Natsume to
burrow his way into Arashi’s chest. He lifts a hand, carefully pushing
Natsume’s hair out of his face before he hesitantly adds, “His magic…it’s a lot
like mine. They call it aberrant magic, or ‘deviant’ magic if they’re tryin’ to
really insult you. The stuff they know nothin’ about, basically, and can’t
teach a class about, so they can’t control it properly. ’s why they’ll never
give me a Nightcloak…and why Natsu wouldn’t have one, if Rei hadn’t done it
himself. We can’t let the Emperor get to him, or he’ll…do some really bad
things, I know.”
“How bad are we talking?” Arashi asks, as quietly as he can. “Bad like it’ll be
difficult to recover? Or bad like it would be a mercy to kill him first? I
think that’s the sort of thing we should all decide before we ride against
him.”
“Kara’s stone cold,” Mika says with a nervous laugh. “Probably just bad
like…difficult to recover, but I dunno. I know a lot of people wanted to kill
me, after he was through.”
“You’re next in line for a cuddle,” Arashi says firmly, locking eyes with Mika,
his hand stroking through Natsume’s hair. “Ugh, this is all so confusing. I’m
used to being a commander, but it’s easy to make moves in the field when you
know what your enemy wants. With the Emperor...he’s the enemy of a lot of
people we’re working with, but I don’t know what he wants, or what he’s going
to do. I don’t think in wheels like these people.”
“I know. That’s why I’m just…really hopin’ that Master’s plans with Rei are
workin’ out,” Mika says softly. “Master always said that the Emperor was
simple, though. The only thing he wants is everything everyone else has,
because it’s the only way he’ll ever have it himself. But that doesn’t sound
simple to me at all, just scary.”
“And at the risk of sounding like one of those wishy-washy idiots that can’t
make up their mind...wanting what everyone else has isn’t a punishable
offense,” Arashi admits. “I mean, what he does is bad, but...I support Leo for
the throne because he’s the next in line, and he’s got plans for fixing things.
But I don’t know anything about what would be good to rule wizards, you know?
Or who should be in charge.”
“But the way he wants things is by taking things away from everyone else,” Mika
says, glancing aside. “Like…wizards can’t have lovers, but he can, with another
wizard even, because that’s what he wants and he likes to lord it over other
people. That kind of thing. I don’t really know what would be good, either, but
I know it ain’t him.” He hesitates, glancing warily to Tsukasa, as if he
doesn’t want to say more with him in the room, then shuts up with a shrug.
“Right,” Tsukasa exhales, rising to his feet, and grabbing his cloak. “I’m
going to start getting the horses ready. Even if Natsume is still asleep, one
of us can carry him.”
“I’ll carry him, I don’t mind.” Arashi lifts Natsume with one arm, and gives
them a brief smile. “Neigh doesn’t mind carrying double, and I can always
switch off with Izumi, Vale is enormous. Tsukasa, will you be in charge of
leading Natsume’s horse?”
“Of course, Captain…if you’re in charge of making sure Izumi and His Highness
ever get out of bed,” Tsukasa wearily says, shaking his head as he finishes
packing up his things and strides from the room.
Mika watches him leave, then his gaze slides back to Arashi. “I think the Demon
King’s gonna try to take over the whole Academy. Master wouldn’t say that, but
whenever I asked, he jus’ didn’t answer. And I think…” He hesitates again. “He
might try to take the crown, too. I didn’t wanna say nothin’ because I don’t
know for sure, but I know he’s real mad with the king’s bloodline.”
“That...” Arashi grimaces. “That would be a problem. Because we’re currently
rallying an army in support of a different candidate, you know. And honestly,
wizards are a law unto themselves, but if the Demon King tried to take the
crown?” He spreads his hands, licking his lips. “I’d have a problem with that
myself. Hell, I’d fight him myself. He’s not even from here, he’s from the
Shadowlands. That’s a foreign invasion.”
Mika shifts uncomfortably, looking away. “This is why I didn’t wanna say
anythin’,” he murmurs. “But some of the stuff Natsu was babblin’ on about…I
dunno. I mean, I don’t think it’d be such a bad thing for a wizard to be on the
throne…”
“Does he know anything about ruling, though?” Arashi asks. “I’m a Captain, I
have thousands of men under my command. I want to serve someone that cares
where to send them, you know? And all anyone’s told me is that the Demon King
only cares about revenge. And speaking for the Army, because someone has to, I
don’t think the whole Army would want to follow someone like that. They might
take over, institute martial law.”
“I…I don’t know, I don’t know anythin’,” Mika nervously says, holding up his
hands as he slinks back a bit. “A-all I know is I jus’ wanna be able to be with
you safely, without gettin’ you killed or me tossed into a torture chamber. I
like the prince and everythin’, and I wanna believe he’ll fix everything the
way he’s been sayin’, but if he supports the Emperor, I…I dunno. This is
stressful, I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”
“Fair enough, me either,” Arashi says with a sigh. He lifts Natsume, holding
him against his chest as he walks downstairs. The landlady tries to talk to
him, and he ignores her, heading for the stables. His feet stop at the
threshold, and he asks Mika, almost conversationally, “Is Izumi up yet? I don’t
know that I can saddle Neigh with him in my arms, heh.”
“I’ll go get them,” Mika sighs, raking a hand back through his hair as he
huddles underneath his cloak and makes his way back to the room, knocking on
the door before cracking it open. “Izumi, we’re…aww, c’mon.”
“You said we had an hour or two,” Izumi grouses, not removing his hand from
Leo’s pants or his mouth from his neck. “Give me a break.”
“Natsu’s sleepin’ real deep, so that’ll put us too far behind if we wait for
him to wake up,” Mika dryly says, folding his arms. “Get up, karaneeds your
help, and Kasa can’t touch Vale.”
Izumi grumbles as he rolls away, looking thoroughly agitated. “Fine, I’ll be
down in a minute, let me get dressed.”
Mika eyes him skeptically before he just flops against the doorframe, waiting.
“Nope, I don’t trust y’all.”
“You’re the untrustworthy one,” Leo grouses, reaching down to squeeze himself
hard before standing up. “You promised us a couple hours, and you had him all
last night. Super rude. But fine, fine, let’s go.”
“Someone’s gotta put his mouth to use,” Mika flippantly says before kicking the
door wide open, grabbing Arashi’s bag, and flouncing off.
“He vacillates wildly between being a fluttery bird terrified of everything
that moves, and being like this,” Izumi deadpans, rolling out of bed to get
dressed. “It’s so fun for me.”
“You didn’t seem to mind having fun with him last night,” Leo teases, pinching
Izumi’s ass. “Hey. Whatever happens...” He fumbles for words, but they don’t
come, and he shrugs. It’s easier to look away and pretend he isn’t grateful for
the interruption, but maybe that’s just because his body isn’t entirely
interested in Izumi trying to prove with sex that he’s not giving up too much
of himself to other people. “I love you.”
“Saying things like that out of nowhere makes it sound like you’re trying to go
and die,” Izumi bluntly says, grabbing Leo around the waist to kiss him
soundly, open doors be damned. No one’s bothering them yet, after all. “I love
you, too, but don’t fucking say it like that.”
Leo smiles faintly, leaning against Izumi’s chest. “Everyone you know is
incredible,” he says softly. “Arashi can’t die. You can’t die. Mika’s a
necromancer. Shu is a Nightcloak. Rei is a demon. Natsume sees the future.
Everyone you know is a lot more interesting than I am. Just...don’t get bored
with me, yeah? You seemed like you were kind of...going somewhere else, when we
were fooling around.”
“You’re seeing things that aren’t there,” Izumi gently scolds, toying with the
end of Leo’s thoroughly mussed ponytail. “If I’m distracted, it’s not because
of anyone else. It’s because everything is stressful right now and I would
prefer going back to bed instead of having a million things to worry about. It
was a lot simpler, when all I had to worry about was whether or not I could
convince you to go to your classes on time.”
“A daily losing battle,” Leo recalls fondly, stealing a kiss from Izumi’s
mouth. “Nnh, I suppose we should go, the world is collapsing and everything.
Want me to tell you I love you again?”
“Yes. Before we’re in the public eye again, and you need to be more obnoxiously
reserved.”
The Emperor will be watching. That fact strikes Leo firmly, and he takes in a
breath, banishing the thought of those cold blue eyes, dancing with glee. “I
love you. In public or in private, no matter what I’m doing, I love you.”
“Good.” Izumi huffs out a soft breath, and gives Leo another, light squeeze
before releasing him and scooping up his cloak, fastening it around Leo’s
shoulders. “In case it rains again today. A king can’t look like a wet rat.”
“A wet rat king.”
“No. No wet rats.”
“Fine, build your rat king a home.” Leo adjusts his cloak, tugging the hood up
over his hair. “We should have a place we can run away after I became king. A
little house. I’ll ditch all responsibilities every once in a while, and we’ll
just live like normal people. We can play peasant!”
“I’ll just drag you up North. Probably would feel like the same thing to you,”
Izumi says, not unkindly, and shoulders both of their bags, giving the room a
last check-over before leading the way downstairs. He ignores a last-ditch
attempt from a woman to bat her eyelashes at him, and heads directly to the
stable. “Is he going to stay sleeping like that?” he asks Arashi curiously,
setting his things down to throw Neigh’s saddle on for him. “Wizards are so
weird…oh, come here, also. Your, ah, neck.”
Arashi grunts, leaning his head to the side, presenting his neck. “I was
carrying the kid in front of it to hide,” he admits. “Please, I don’t want
people here to goddamn talk, they do that enough without me. And...if you don’t
mind, I’d rather you get the horses out, I hate that stable. It’s...moldy.”
“Yeah, yeah, mold’s no good for the skin,” Izumi murmurs, briefly resting a
hand against Arashi’s neck and pulling it away after only a few seconds with it
entirely free of tell-tale bruising. “Wait outside with everyone, Kasa and I
will handle it.”
A few moments later, and Izumi comes out with a pair of horses in each hand,
Tsukasa with the his own and Natsume’s. “Let’s get out of this hellhole,” Izumi
says, passing Tempo off to Leo and holding Neigh still for Arashi. “If you get
sick of carrying him, pass him off to me.”
“He’s fine. It reminds me of the cat I had as a child, honestly,” Arashi says
fondly, stepping up and swinging onto his horse.
A door opens nearby, and Arashi catches a glimpse of a face, hears a call-
- “Arashi! That can’t be--”
He leaps forward, heels digging into Neigh’s sides as the man stands in the
doorway, looking startled. Neigh leaps into a gallop, frisky from the suddenly
dry weather, hooves pounding the muddy road as she shoots off.
Leo blinks, wiping a fleck of mud off of his cheek. “I guess we’re going?” he
asks Izumi, eyebrows raised.
“Yep,” Mika says, scrabbling up the side of his own horse and following after
Arashi in short order, robes whipping behind him.
Izumi shrugs a little, and pulls himself into Vale’s saddle even as he moodily
sidesteps, uninterested in anything but food. Sorry, boy. You’ll have to see
this place one more time today. “I suppose we are, Milord,” he wryly says.
“Gods, I’m so glad I like where I grew up.”
“I like the Capital,” Leo objects, keeping pace with Izumi. “I just don’t like
most of the people in it right now.”
“Same,” Tsukasa pipes up. “Ah, I really wish I could send a missive there.
Being so disconnected feels wrong…”
“We’ll get news of it when it’s useful,” Izumi dismisses, and spurs Vale
forward. “Let’s worry about one thing at a time.”
“Nonsense, I’m good at worrying about at least twelve things at a time,” Leo
assures him, keeping pace on Tempo. “It’s a skill that I’ve mastered--wow,
Arashi really can ride fast when he wants to, huh?”
“He’s got a fast horse. Which, actually, gives me a good idea.” Izumi pulls
level with Tsukasa, smile glittering. “Let me borrow Fianna later today.”
Tsukasa blinks back at him. “What?”
“Shh, just let me. If you’re worried about riding Vale, trade with His Highness
here.”
“That’s…I’d like an explanation, at least—“
“Because she’s as fast as they come, and I need a fast horse. And your bow,
you’re letting me borrow that as well. I have a date, you see.”
“I…I’m afraid I don’t see at all, and I really do dislike when you smile at me
like that, it makes me very uncomfortable—“
“Because your dick is hard, probably. Don’t argue with me, just trust me.”
“Tsukasa, let him do it,” Leo says, with a hint of the firm resolve of a king
in his voice, and an equally sweet smile. “If Izumi’s got an errand, that means
you and me can ride together for a while...unless you really want to avoid me--
is that what you’re saying? Huh?Is that what you’re saying, that you hate me?
This is definitely because of your calcium deficiency.”
“I—I don’t even know what that could possibly mean!” Tsukasa blurts out,
thoroughly flustered now, but he nods all the same. “Fine, fine, whatever you
need, I just wish any of you would explain anything to me at any given point—“
“It’s so cute that you think I care,” Izumi hums, reaching over to slap
Tsukasa’s back. “In the meantime, let’s relax and have a good ride.”
“I’m going to have to improve the education of children in my country when I
become king,” Leo says very seriously to Izumi. “They don’t even know what
calcium is. Or its deficiency. Quite dangerous.”
“That sounds like a very useful addition to our laws, Milord. Definitely put
that as a top priority.”
“Certainly. I can’t think of a thing more important for our future.”
***** Chapter 45 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
The Demon King takes the Capital within a day, but the news doesn’t spread.
How could it? There seems to be a general collective of relief from the wizards
there, which sets the Emperor’s teeth on edge. There’s no solace to be found
there, no support, with every single tie the Academy has to the crown cut off
in an instant, the Demon King’s message loud and clear: Follow me, or be
imprisoned.
With the Academy so neatly underneath Rei’s thumb as well, courtesy of him
forcing Eichi on a wild goose chase for a solid day and a half, Eichi finds
himself furiously trying to catch up. Rei’s methods are thorough, and he’s
powerful enough at current that Eichi has to take a step back. There’s no
explosions. There’s no murder, no torturing. Just a quiet, firm hand, and a
gentle, yet threatening smile: Follow me, or be imprisoned.
Eichi thinks not.
A battle might be lost, but not the war, as far as he’s concerned. Rei
deliberately dangles bait in front of him, of course—the lure of a captured
Tori, of Wataru, most of all. Eichi doesn’t bite, not when Rei’s got Shu at his
hip, and they’re fucking like disgusting rabbits, making Rei stronger and
stronger by the damned day. Time to think will make this easier…or perhaps,
more than that, time to gain leverage.
And so, Eichi stays in the West, against Yuzuru’s frantic advice otherwise.
An interesting rally takes place, gathering most of the main holdings in the
West to, apparently, listen to a pair of wizards talk about supporting the heir
apparent to the throne. Eichi lingers in the audience, bemused. One he
recognizes, the scrappy little crow from the South that he’s never been able to
tolerate, but the other…a little thing, made more apparent by how exhausted he
is. His power seems strange, in a way that Eichi can’t quite name, and he seems
vaguely familiar, but…oh well. Either way,  he’s sharp-tongued and forceful,
setting the stage nicely for the guest of honor himself: Prince Leo.
Ah, he doesn’t know, does he?
To think that the prince might be privy to expedited information is laughable,
Eichi supposes, if he doesn’t have the right tools. Watching the West rally
around him is interesting, but more interesting is simply watching him.
How annoying, to be distracted by a mere human, but he’s never been one to
ignore all compulsions. “I want to know where they’re staying,” Eichi says to
Yuzuru tugging his cloak more securely about himself in the throng of humans,
and he shivers in the damp weather. Earlier, it had been dry and sunny, and now
it’s raining again. Mountains are no good. “So I can inform him of what’s going
on in the Capital. I think he might be interested.”
“Yes, your Excellency.”
Yuzuru is half-mad with concern for Tori, but in his master’s absence, an order
from Eichi is as good as what he needs, and he obeys as quickly as possible.
Less than three hours later, he manages to deliver Eichi to the front door of
an Inn, and says quietly, “The third floor, Excellency. If going in the front
door, it’s the room up the stairs on the second left. If by window, it’s the
one with the green-tinted light from the jade shade.”
“Thank you, good boy.” Eichi pauses, and considers what the kind thing to do
is. He reaches out, patting Yuzuru’s cheek. “I won’t let anything happen to
Tori,” he softly says. “And the Demon King has a gentle hand, so I doubt he’s
even as much as bruised. Worry a bit less.”
“If I thought none of that were true, Excellency, I would already be attempting
to reach his side.” Yuzuru gives him a nod, but his small smile is grateful
nonetheless. “Will you be requiring my services for the rest of the evening in
any capacity?”
“No, I don’t think so. I’ll be having a reasonable amount of fun. Have a nice
evening!”
Eichi lets himself into the inn, which is bustling with dinner patrons, clean
and bright but conveniently crowded. How kind of them not to notice him as he
drifts through, which means it’s incredibly easy to reach the stairs, take them
to the third floor, and—second left? Excellent, very easy.
He leans against the door for a moment, listening. Not a peep from another
person, how nice, and not a single magical signature—at least, in this room.
Rampant, just a room down, is the strange, dark energy of Shu’s pet bird, and
with him, the redheaded wizard he doesn’t recognize. And so, he lightly knocks
upon the door, perhaps a bit too interested in the reaction he’s bound to get.
There’s a rustling sound, then another. Then, silence. Then another rustling
sound, and a candle flickers into life, the warm glow filtering out underneath
the door. Then, slowly, the door opens, revealing the candlelit form of Leo,
looking up at Eichi with large green eyes, hair loose around his shoulders, not
wearing a stitch of clothing. “I knew you’d come,” he says quietly, and opens
the door farther, heart thudding in his throat.
Eichi pauses, smiles, and pushes his way inside.
“Did you?” It’s peculiar how the tension he’s been holding in his shoulders
dissolves when he’s in this room. Eichi doesn’t know how to feel about that. He
does, however, close the door behind him firmly, and pull his hood down,
tossing out his hair as he reaches down, catching a few strands of Leo’s hair
to toy with it. “Then word travels better than I thought up here in the middle
of nowhere.” 
Leo reaches out, and flips the latch shut on his door. Then he covers Eichi’s
hand with his own, staring up unblinkingly. “I haven’t had any news. I just
knew you’d come.”
“That’s an odd thing to say.” Eichi’s eyes lid, and he sucks in a breath. Well.
Compulsions are compulsions, after all, but this one is frustrating, niggling
at the back of his mind, made a dozen times more difficult when Leo stares at
him with enormous green eyes. He takes a step forward, grabs Leo by the arm,
and pulls him around to shove him into the door, bending down in the next
instant to crush their lips together.
Leo feels his body go limp, knowing Eichi will hold him up, arching up against
him as he meets the kiss fiercely, biting and sucking at Eichi’s lips, opening
his own to let Eichi inside to ravage him. He groans, low and throaty, reaching
up to grab at his hair. His grasping hands aren’t kind. If anything, he pulls
harder than he ever would on Izumi’s hair, so hard he gets the leverage to wrap
his legs around Eichi’s waist, fine fabric and rough fastenings rubbing across
his soft inner thighs.
Eichi hisses against that soft mouth, biting Leo’s lower lip until he tastes
blood. He draws back, tongue flicking out to lick up that sharp, metallic taste
that tries to escape down Leo’s chin, and he hefts him up as if he weighs
nothing, away from the door, tossed down to the bed in a heap instead.
This wasn’t in my plans, he’d like to point out, but, well. Leo seems to be a
frightfully addictive anomaly. Once, and it’s fun, twice, like this, and it’s
bordering inconvenient. Eichi follows after him nonetheless, shedding his
cloak, already yanking at the fastenings of his trousers. “Spread your legs,”
he lowly orders, grabbing one of Leo’s knees and pushing it down to the bed
before he can even comply.
“What does it matter?” Leo breathes, pupils blown wide in the darkness,
struggling only slightly, just because it feels better to do it against this
man, this man that makes it feel like fire flows through his veins. He arches
up, reaching for Eichi’s trousers, yanking one of the laces clean out of its
holes in his lust. “You’re going to have me the way you want anyway. Have I--
been behind your eyes, the last time you had someone else?” Or was it just me
affected like that?
Eichi’s eyes lid, and he shoves Leo’s hand away, grabbing his wrist instead to
pin it down over his head. “Adorable, that you think I’ve had the time,” he
murmurs, shifting closer, kneeling between Leo’s legs to keep them spread with
the width of his own hips. He finishes unlacing his trousers, unbuckling his
belt, and rips open one of the pouches tied to it open to fish out a bottle of
oil. He frees his cock, barely taking the time to even push his trousers down,
and dumps the oil over it, slicking it down the aching length with the palm of
his hand. Maybe, maybe if he does this, he can focus on something that isn’t
the idea of how good his cock had felt last time, buried deep into Leo’s ass.
Maybe.
He hikes up Leo’s hips, and wastes no time. The head of his cock presses
against that tight hole, and Eichi shoves forward with a breathy grunt, bending
forward, weight pressing down to work his cock inside, covering Leo’s body with
his own. Just the head takes effort, but he refuses to go slow, not when it’s
easy after that, no matter how Leo’s body twitches and clenches around every
centimeter of him, almost desperate to refuse him. “Be good,” he breathlessly
orders, his hair swinging forward as he shoves in harder. “You remember how
much you liked it last time.”
Leo claps a hand over his mouth, eyes bulging as he whimpers, biting into his
palm as hard as he needs to, thighs spreading so wide that each knee touches
the bed on either side of Eichi. He drops the hand, panting hard, hands coming
up to grasp at Eichi’s back, moving to his chest, almost trying to push him
away. “It’s--too much,” he pleads, tears pricking at his eyes, liquid, roiling
heat burning inside of him. “It’s too big, I can’t--there’s n-no way, I--”
His voice cuts off into a moan so loud he claps his hand over his mouth again,
frantically sucking at the air when his cock twitches hard at a deep thrust,
making him feel like nothing so much as a doll, a puppet, something solely
created for Eichi’s amusement.
Eichi ignores him. It’s satisfying to tune Leo out in favor of leaning back,
avoiding his grabbing, pushing hands, and to just grab him by those lean hips,
yanking him against him, down onto his cock when he shoves in deep, finally
buried all the way inside. He exhales a hot, ragged breath, his cheeks flushed
as he rocks forward languidly now, pleased now that he’s got his cock buried in
someone that feels so good, like—“It’s meant to be in there,” Eichi breathes,
loosening his hold, aware he’s left little bruises where he grabbed Leo’s hips
so hard, but uncaring. His hands splay out over Leo’s ribs, petting him,
stroking up to his nipples, which stand out as rock hard nubs on Leo’s chest.
“Ahh, see, you like this.”
Leo shakes his head, but at some point, the frantic gesture turns into a nod.
His head thunks back against the bed, and he lets his hips cant up off the bed,
meeting each of Eichi’s perfect thrusts with every delicious rut of his hips.
His chest shoves up against Eichi’s hands, and he grabs at the blankets, almost
frustrated. “How...is it,” he groans, reaching down to absently stroke his own
cock, just for the scintillating sensation it provides, “that you know...just
where to touch me...hnn, it’s so big, last time I couldn’t--ride properly--”
“And now look at you, complaining to make a show of it,” Eichi lowly taunts,
dropping back down onto his elbows, using the leverage to better shove in,
savoring the way the bed creeks when he braces his knees and grinds in hard
enough that it takes his breath away. Leo moves against him beautifully, and
Eichi’s pinches one of those perfect nipples slowly as he sucks on the side of
his neck, leaving a dark, obvious bruise in his mouth’s wake. “I barely even
need to train you,” he breathes. “You already know what I like, what a good
boy.”
“You could...tell me more,” Leo suggests on a deep exhale, rocking up to get
more of Eichi inside of him, chest aching and throbbing with every pinch and
tweak. “Teach me...what you like...and I can decide...to give it to you,
or...misbehave...”
His voice doesn’t even sound familiar to his own ears, and Leo drags his nails
down Eichi’s back, struggling to part his legs farther when it already feels
deep enough inside him to bruise, when it’s already too-tight, too-hot, too
little oil and too much thick girth stretching him so wide he feels as if he’ll
never be the same, his breath coming in sobbing little gasps.
“Maybe later, when I’m done getting off in you.”
It’s a mindless need that drives him, and his mouth is hot on Leo’s again,
silencing any of his protests and the breathy noises that keep coming from his
throat. Eichi kisses him hard, grabbing his face in one hand so he can’t pull
away when he thrusts up roughly, fucking him with little more than the need to
feel how good it is in mind. Leo is achingly tight around him, squeezing and
squirming, making noises that he still can feel against his tongue, and Eichi’s
eyes lid, his thoughts unfocusing when he shoves him to the bed to take exactly
what he wants.
Eichi’s cock throbs hard, twitching inside of him, and he shoves in with a low,
rumbling groan, buried to the hilt, fucking in shallowly through the pulses of
his orgasm when he spills. It’s suddenly much slicker inside, a lot easier to
move, and he can’t help but languidly thrust in a few more times, savoring that
with a breathless sigh of relief.
If Leo could think now, he’d think about how strange it is that he’s here,
splay-legged under the Emperor of the Academy, immediately letting the man fuck
into him as fast as he can get it. A cracked, throaty moan leaks out of his
mouth, and his hands fall back to the bed, just letting Eichi rut into him as
much as he wants. “Are you...is that...”
He swallows hard, his entire body shuddering, hands pressing against his own
stomach, blinking tears out of his eyes. “A-ah...you’re still...so big in me, I
can feel it, I...I can feel you breathing...”
Eichi tilts his head back, blowing a sweaty strand of hair out of his face.
“Sort of amazing that it fits, isn’t it, with how little you are,” he lowly
teases, dragging a hand down Leo’s stomach. He presses down absently, almost
expecting to feel himself inside. Maybe if he fucked Leo hard enough, he could.
“You’re not going to come for me? I’m not pulling it out until you do.”
Leo lets out a whimper when Eichi presses down on him, his toes curling in
sheer overstimulation as he gasps for breath. “Y-you came too fast,” he accuses
breathlessly, squeezing down out of instinct and immediately regretting it when
the thick intrusion into his body makes him cry out. “Nnnh, you came...too
much, I’m...I’m gonna swell up or something, gods--it’s too much, please...”
Never mind that his cock is so hard it feels swollen, the tip flushed deep red,
dripping a steady stream of fluid onto his belly.
“It’s not my fault that I saw you and had to fuck you,” Eichi murmurs, sliding
his fingers back through Leo’s hair, brushing the sweaty strands of it away
from his neck to better latch his mouth onto that sensitive skin, biting, then
sucking. His fingers drag down, avoiding Leo’s cock altogether, but rubbing
through the slick, sticky precome on his stomach before sliding to where
they’re connected instead. He traces that stretched, aching hole, feeling how
Leo twitches around his cock even more, and he shifts, curious. “I wonder…can
you fit even more in here? Mmn, I know, you’re s~o full, but if you keep
squeezing like that, I’m gonna get hard again and have to come again.”
Leo laughs nervously, his cock hardening nonetheless, chest tightening, nipples
suddenly twinging when Eichi teases him like that. “Y-you got another prick in
your pocket?” he asks, eyes unfocusing, Eichi’s image blurring when it’s so
much, when he’s on the verge of coming but Eichi just keeps teasing him,
drawing it out so long it hurts.
“Mmn, no, but—“ Eichi shifts, and that finger presses forward, wriggling in
along side his cock even though Leo is already so, so impossibly full. “I can
improvise. You’re being such a good boy, aren’t you? No wonder you missed me,
I’ll just have to keep it in you all night…”
Leo cries out, forgetting about making noise, forgetting about anything but how
much isin him, how much he’s being stuffed full, his hole stretching and
stinging with the added girth. He squirms, panting hard, drool trickling from
his mouth, legs waving in the air with every choked groan. “N-no, pleeeeease,
it’s so--it’s so much, it’s--you’re--p-please touch me, I’m so close, it hurts,
it’s so much, please--”
“If you didn’t like it, wouldn’t you be begging me to stop?” Eichi taunts, but
ahh, Leo is so cute, and he can be merciful. His other hand drags down, his
palm sliding over Leo’s cock, squeezing, cupping and stroking him as his hips
given an absent thrust forward, unable to help himself when Leo squirms like
that. “There,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb over the aching, dripping tip of
Leo’s cock. “It’s still all in you, and I’m being nice. Give me what I want,
too.”
One touch of that hand, and Leo arches so hard he hears his back pop, mouth
open in a panting, whining cry as he comes all over himself in urgent spurts,
hard enough that some hits him in the chin, one spurt arching clear over his
head. He collapses back to the bed, shuddering, sweating, trembling as he
reaches for Eichi. “Is....is that what...is that what you want?” he whispers,
blinking away tears.
“Mm, mm, good boy, good boy,” Eichi sighs, carefully pulling his fingers
free—though not his cock, he’s not entirely interested in not being buried in
Leo just yet. He tilts his head, giving a lick to the mess that managed to hit
even Leo’s chin, and then grabs his face in one hand to kiss him, shoving his
tongue into his mouth before he can protest. “You taste good, don’t you?” he
murmurs, combing Leo’s hair out of his face, the touch almost tender. “Ahh,
this was the right decision, I knew paying you a visit would be fun.”
Leo leans up, curling his tongue around Eichi’s, sucking softly before leaning
back. “Is this...the only reason you came?” he asks, eyes hooded, a flush of
delighted embarrassment creeping into his cheeks. “To see me? Ahh...I hope I’ve
been worth it...”
“You’re so much more pliant this time, I wonder why.” Eichi absently taps one
of Leo’s flushed cheeks before he draws back, propping himself up. “If I’m
being completely honest, my home’s been taken over and I was in the West
chasing absolutely nothing, so you were a bright spot on my schedule. I watched
your little rally today, very cute.”
“Nnh, don’t talk politics when your cock is in me,” Leo complains, squeezing
down deliberately, which makes him squeak.
Eichi pauses, then shrugs. He rolls over, pulling Leo with him so he has no
choice but to straddle his hips with his cock still in him. “If you do that,
I’m putting you to work,” he mildly says, leaning back against the headboard as
he loosens his collar with a sigh. “You’ve got me all sweaty now, honestly.
It’s not like I could greet you naked.”
Leo groans when Eichi bottoms out, gravity driving him in so deep that his
abdomen aches. “Ahh....what...you want me to...do your laundry or something?”
“Maybe if you were in a cute, frilly little dress,” Eichi teases, sliding his
hands back up Leo’s chest to absently pull on his nipples. “I have a lot of
politics to talk with you about, but if you’d rather I just keep doing this,
that’s fine, too.”
Leo huffs out a breath, leaning forward to rest his hands on Eichi’s shirt,
slowly unlacing the fine material. “Nnh, if you’re gonna stay like this...what
do you want to say? I changed my mind, I don’t want you to pull out.” He
circles his hips, lips parted, eyes lidded, just enjoying the sensation of
having Eichi inside of him, mildly startled to find that he’s right, he does
feel as if he belongs there.
Eichi relaxes back with a slow, pleased exhale, feeling his cock slowly harden
again. His hands drag slowly down to Leo’s hips, curling there loosely, not
pulling or even really supporting him, just thumbing over the jut of his hip
bones appreciatively. “Good, because it’s staying in you,” he murmurs, licking
his lips. “I’m concerned talking about it might make you stop what you’re
doing. Unacceptable, that.”
“I suppose that depends,” Leo murmurs, hips rocking gently, mostly concerned
with getting more, though his rational mind keeps trying to reassert itself.
“On what...you want...eh? My friends think you’re...some kind of...evil
creature, but...I want to hear it from you.”
“I’m not here to talk about what I want.” Eichi’s lips twitch into a languid
smile, and his fingers do tighten on Leo’s hips then, pulling him to a more
appropriate angle as he thrusts up, slow and deep. “For once, I’m merely a
messenger of news.”
Leo yelps, and his cock spills a few more drops, trickling down the underside
of the shaft, making him wriggle. “F-fine, what news? Hnn, you’re so, you feel,
there’s so much--”
“Yes, so you’ve said.” Eichi’s fingers slide down to give Leo’s ass a swift
pinch. “The Academy’s been stolen from me,” he bluntly says. “And so has your
kingdom. Want me out of you now?”
Leo shrugs. “Knew it was coming,” he admits. “Don’t go soft now that you’ve
lost power, I didn’t. Demon King?”
“Oh, good, you’re delightful,” Eichi mutters, sighing as he rolls them again,
shoving Leo up against the headboard, kissing the side of his neck as he slides
his knees up and shoves up into him with more leverage. “Who else but him?” he
growls, nipping at the lobe of Leo’s ear. “He’s got his arse on your throne,
calling himself king, period, the end.”
“Ahh!” Leo groans, wrapping his arms around Eichi’s neck, grabbing him close,
rutting up against Eichi with every slick thrust. “I just--ah, fuck, that
hurts, you’re so deep--I just hope--he does--a good job, I’ll fuck off to the
islands if he does--”
“Less delightful, try again.” Eichi grabs at the headboard, grinding in deep,
panting against Leo’s hair. “I’d rather destroy every last city than listen to
a word he has to say,” he breathes, shoving up hard and staying there, savoring
the aching, trembling clench of Leo’s body around him. “So we’re going to do
something about it, and you’re handing the Academy right back to me when I give
you the throne.”
“Unconvinced,” Leo says, panting as tears spill off his cheeks, lurching up to
bite Eichi’s neck. “I don’t mind you--being the Emperor, just--hnn--we’re gonna
need to change some things, if you want my supp--fuck, gods, fuck, right
there!”
Eichi groans, his breath ragged as he squeezing an arm tightly around Leo’s
waist, holding him in place, thrusting up into him at that same angle, again,
again until every jerk and squirm of Leo down onto his cock quickly becomes too
much. “F-fine—fine, I’ll consider it, but not when I’m in you, I—“ I can’t
think straight, and that’s making me stupid.
“Shh, it’s fine, it’s fine,” Leo whispers, hardly knowing what he’s saying,
only that Eichi needs him in this moment, needs to be reassured. He clings
tightly, wrapping his legs around Eichi’s hips, no matter that it makes his
hole sting, makes his insides cramp. “Fuck politics for just a few more
minutes, yeah? Just...Fuck me like you’ve always wanted to.”
Eichi huffs out a hot breath, and gives up.
He buries his face down into Leo’s hair, grabbing him up close, fucking up into
him with long, deep strokes. Didn’t you say last time that you thought it was
creepy? he wants to taunt. That I wanted a piece of you since I met you for the
first time? But the words won’t come, and instead, grabbing Leo and kissing,
biting every part of his mouth can reach seems far better.
He doesn’t last any longer than he did the first time, which is probably for
the best. Another, few thrusts and he comes with a ragged, muffled noise
against Leo’s skin, spilling with a jerk of his hips, throbbing inside of him.
“Now…I know I can feel how full you are here,” Eichi says with a breathless
laugh, his eyes lidded as his fingers drag down over Leo’s stomach. Sweat drips
down from his hair, and he rakes his other hand back through it. “Too much?”
“Always.”
Leo’s grin is shaky, but genuine as he kisses back, clinging to Eichi for dear
life, feeling as if holding him tighter will make him stay, will somehow change
this into something more than it is. “You’re always...too much for me, heh. But
I don’t exactly hate it, I guess. Mm, did you like using me to get off?”
Eichi doesn’t answer that. Instead, he gingerly shifts, hissing out a breath
through his teeth when he finally bothers pulling out, his cock too over-
sensitive to handle Leo squirming down on him for another minute. “You’re a
problem,” he mutters. “A distracting problem.”
Leo groans, rolling onto his side, knees tucked up to his chest. “Okay, it
didn’t really hurt when you were in me. I thought it did. I was wrong. Now it
hurts.”
“Do you need to call your little half-breed snake in here?” Eichi mildly asks,
rolling onto his back and adjusting his clothes, tucking himself back into his
trousers. “Barring that, I do have a penchant for magic, but it seems like
someone thoroughly scrubbed you down from our last encounter, as if you found
it distasteful. It’s almost like you wanted to forget it.”
“More like no one would travel with me if they thought I was under your spell,”
Leo says cheerfully. “You made them all wear weird underwear for years, of
course they’re mad. People love fucking, I’m pretty sure none of them would be
in a rebellion mood if you just let them fuck.”
“You know, it’s a very recent thing that this has become an issue,” Eichi
flatly says, slapping a hand to Leo’s lower back and letting a soothing,
cooling wave of magic flutter southward. It’s no healing magic, but it’s
certainly more than enough to calm that unpleasant sting and ache. “Untrained
wizards—and even trained wizards—rarely can be trusted under emotional duress.
Do you want your kingdom on the brink of destruction daily because one of them
had an exciting tumble, or worse, was denied one?”
“If this is a recent thing,” Leo says, shivering, then relaxing when Eichi’s
magic does his work, “I’m not sure it...had the desired effect. Mm, that’s
nice, like fresh mint. I’m just saying...in Father’s day, wizards were
considered honored. Now, all the ones I know think they’re little better than
slaves. That’s not good for morale.”
“You’re dealing with a select few that have a personal issue with me. Your
opinion has been swayed unfairly.” Eichi snorts, and instead of withdrawing his
hand, he slides it up Leo’s spine, petting him like one would a cat.
“Considering the company you keep, you couldn’t pick a bunch that dislikes me
more. Their loss.”
Leo’s toes curl, and he lets out a noise almost like a purr, rubbing up against
Eichi’s hand. “Tell me...would you...have let Father use that weapon?
Destroying all the Northerners and peasants?”
“Absolutely not. I fancy the capital and I have wizards in my employ from
there. A tainted, magical wasteland isn’t what I like to visit. Come here,
you’re like a small animal,” Eichi mutters, sort of mystified as he grabs Leo
around the waist and rolls onto his side to drag him close. “Now, I am tempted
to turn it on the Demon King, but that’s a different story.”
Leo rolls close, enjoying the petting more than he wants to admit. “Fmpfh. I
have no great loyalty to him, but something like that is way too dangerous to
use anywhere near people. Besides, what if he does a good job, and I get to run
away and live like a cowherd or something?”
“He’s imprisoned your father and a large handful of his followers for refusing
to work with him.”
“Good, my father is an awful king. You must admit that.” Leo traces his finger
over Eichi’s knee, then his thigh, sketching out a design. “I mean, I’m
literally gathering an army to overthrow him. No love lost.”
“I thought,” Eichi softly says, “that your whole stance was not ruling a
country based on revenge or senseless war. But if you’ve lost all ambitions,
then I suppose I’m wasting my time here, and will need to take matters into my
own hands entirely.”
“My whole stance,” Leo growls, “is in ruling my countryfor the people, not in
snatching it from whoever owns it because it’s mine by right.”
He rolls into a sitting position, and pokes Eichi’s chest. “I’ve been
suspecting he’d do this. And I’ll give him as much chance as I gave my father
to rule, because I don’t care who’s in charge--unless they’re doing a worse job
than I’d do. But if I can do better, then I’m going to take that throne back
and sit on it, because I’ve trained my whole damn life to get my arse in that
seat.”
Eichi stares back at him through lidded eyes, and slowly reaches up, pinching
one of his nipples. “If you don’t do something about it,” he bluntly says, “I’m
killing him, and taking it myself. The Academy, too. Then you can answer to me
on your knees all day. Understood?”
“But what does he want? Ow,” Leo adds, swatting Eichi’s hand away, then
climbing into his lap, pushing Eichi back down to the bed. “What do you want,
except to be The Emperor? Tell me about the man I’m fucking.”
“If you drip on me, I’m rolling you back over,” Eichi grumpily warns, but
allows Leo to climb all over him nonetheless. “I don’t know what that hellbeast
wants. I’m not a bloody demon, I don’t think like they do.” His lips purse.
“But I want what’s mine. I worked hard to bring the Academy to where it is
today, and given up more than a silly human could possibly understand. I don’t
want your damned throne, but I’ll take it if what I’ve worked for isn’t given
back to me with the control I deserve.”
“What do you want the Academy to be?” Leo presses. “Everyone says I’m an
idealist, but I think you are, too. You’ve got ideas about how you want it to
be, right? A vision in your head you’re trying to get it to match up to?” He
reaches out, cupping Eichi’s cheek, not entirely sure why he’s doing it. “Share
with me.”
Eichi hesitates, the stare he offers in return wary. “It’s supposed to be,” he
quietly answers in spite of himself, “a place for every single wizard to reach
their full potential. Pushing them towards that sometimes requires means that
regular humans can’t understand…and means that mixed-bloods seem to naturally
object to.” 
“It sounds nice,” Leo says softly. “I’ve seen wizards that can do all kinds of
stuff, scary stuff. I bet that they’d have a lot of trouble getting by or
fitting in without the Academy. I’ve done my history, I know we haven’t
always...done right by wizards, in the past. I always said that in a kingdom of
mine, my dream was for everyone’s  misery to be of their own making, and not
because they were fucked since birth, you know?”
“A pleasant ideal.” Eichi’s hands unclench, and slowly slide to Leo’s hips,
resting there. “As I said, these kinds of protests…they’re a very recent thing.
For example—the Demon King’s mate, as he calls himself now, never had a single
issue that he voiced to me until the Demon King came along. Who, again, I
should mention, has personal vendettas with me based on restrictions that I
felt were necessary. Power regulation is important, lest we have uncontrolled
wizards tearing apart the world, and he’s a fool that used to fuck everything
that breathed to have enough power to upend the oceans.” He huffs, annoyed.
“He’s the reason we had to place so many restrictions in the first place. He
took his abilities and ran with it. Imagine if we had even three or four
wizards doing that and doing what he’s doing right now; it’s not like sex magic
is impossible for a talented wizard to learn in some capacity. Chaos, constant
chaos, the bad kind.”
“I mean,” Leo hedges, “my way of doing it would be to prohibit doing bad things
instead of having power. Seems easier. And train the powerful ones to be on
your side. But I’m not a wizard! Hey, changing the subject, what are you?
You’re not a half-blood, but you’re definitely not human.” He leans forward,
and licks Eichi’s shoulder experimentally. “You taste like the moon. But also
like sweat.”
“Drowning in magic, wizards have an uncanny ability to see blurred lines
between good and bad, so your way doesn’t always work,” Eichi mutters, and
pushes a hand into Leo’s face. “Don’t lick me. In what way do I taste like the
moon?”
 
“You know when you walk outside on a clear night, and you open your eyes and
spread your arms, and let your mouth fall open? That’s what you taste like,”
Leo says seriously.
“…How oddly specific.” Eichi frowns, but relents, curling his fingers back
through Leo’s hair. “This is a human body,” he says. “But the closest thing
you’d understand me to be is something like an angel. Mm, but I refuse to get
too specific, you might take that information and run with it.”
“I will absolutely run with it,” Leo promises solemnly, eyes shining. “Have you
been to the moon?”
“Maybe. But you’re not getting details until you do my bidding.”
Leo scowls. “It’s rude to dangle that over me. Moon privilege. Maybe you need
more calcium.”
Eichi shrugs at him, unfazed. “Doubtful, I take a lot of milk in my tea.”
The doorknob jiggles, and a grumpy, irritated thump comes from the other side
of the thankfully locked door. “Leoooo,” comes Izumi’s very drunk whine. “Don’t
tell me you fell asleep already. I’m drunk and think you’re pretty, let me
iiiin.”
“I recommend ignoring him,” Eichi mildly says, “or being very princely and
sending him away, because I’m quite comfortable, thank you.”
Guilt threads through Leo’s stomach, and he calls, “Share with Arashi and Mika
again, would you? I know you want to!”
“Arashi’s passed out drunk and Mika’s babysitting him and the cat-boy and I
think you’re prettier than the whole lot of them and every noblewoman I’ve ever
fucked.”
“Ooh, a charmer,” Eichi lowly remarks.
“Leo, c’mon, just let me cuddle you. Or kiss you. I’ll be sweet, I can do that,
I swear.”
“Oh, by the way,” Leo says to Eichi quite frankly, “I’m a bad liar.”
Then he opens the door, a resigned, chagrined look on his face. “Hi. You’re
pretty too. I have company. Weird, right?”
Drunk Izumi—drunk Izumi, who has worked hard to get drunk and stay
drunk—clearly doesn’t process this, and focuses instead on the fact that Leo is
mussed, naked, and still more than a little sweaty. “I know…I said I was just
going to cuddle you,” he says very seriously, stumbling a bit as he steps into
the room, grabbing for Leo’s arm. “But you look like…someone that needs to be
fucked within an inch of his life. Gods, how are you so perfect, come here…”
Eichi’s eyebrows climb, and he leans back in bed, counting down until he’s
noticed.
Leo’s self-control wavers for a moment, then he shrugs, letting himself be
pulled onto the bed. “We’ve got company,” he says again, and gently turns
Izumi’s face toward Eichi. “But you’re cute, you can do stuff to me anyway.”
Izumi jerks, pulling back abruptly. “What—who—“
“Ahh, that’s right. We’ve never met.” Eichi’s eyes lid, critical, analytical as
they sweep over Izumi. “The Sena heir, I presume? A pleasure. You probably know
me as the Emperor, but Eichi will do.”
Sobriety returns so quickly that it leaves Izumi’s head spinning. Suddenly, he
can’t reach for the dagger at his hip quickly enough, but touching it makes him
jerk back his hand with a yelp, the metal so strangely hot that it burns.
“Don’t bother,” Eichi sighs, fluttering a hand. “You can’t kill me with that,
anyway. Sit, we’ll have a nice talk.”
“Leo,” Izumi lowly begins. “I don’t know what he’s been telling you, but—“
“We’ve been discussing ideals and the like. Sit.” Eichi looks to Leo, annoyed.
“Is he not trained? My closest guards know those kinds of commands.”
“Why would I train my guards to follow someone else’s commands?” Leo asks, and
quite rightly, too, he thinks. “Izumi, sit with me, please...Rei’s taken not
just the Academy, but my throne, too. We’re seeing if we can find some
compromise or middle ground, I want your input.”
“…I’ll stand, thank you,” Izumi stiffly says, arms folded across his chest.
“Have you actually confirmed what he’s told you? How do you know he’s not
toying with you?”
Eichi spreads his hands with a smile. “Indeed, how does he know? Ah, so you’re
so tense, it makes me anxious. I know you’ve heard some interesting things
about me, being the bodyguard of the Nightcloak Shu and his little pet, but I
can only imagine they’re taken quite out of context.”
“Either way,” Leo says softly, “how is it bad to hear what he has to say? If I
want to be the king, don’t I have to listen to everyone, not just the people
who agree with me? I’m not going to do anything without confirming it first,
but more information is good, right?”
Izumi exhales a short, sharp breath, and says nothing to that for a moment.
Instead, he stoops to pick up Leo’s cloak where it’s been long discarded onto
the floor and sweeps it around him, unable to stand the fact that he’s so
casually naked in a setting like this any longer. “You don’t have to listen to
your enemies,” he flatly says, fastening the cloak around Leo’s bare shoulders.
“Which is what he should be.”
“I know, I know, the idea that the person you’ve fled for so long being helpful
is incomprehensible to little reptile brains,” Eichi says with a flutter of his
hand. “But rest assured—“
“You bought me from a group of nobles working against the crown and passed me
along to your research facility, like I was a piece of meat.”
“I mean, I didn’t do it, specifically. The head of our research department did.
It was for science, a good cause. The more we can learn from half-breeds and
how they function, the better!”
“But that worked out right, didn’t it?” Leo asks, almost imploringly, grabbing
Izumi’s hand. “If he hadn’t bought what I’m assuming he thought was a corpse,
you wouldn’t have gotten to friends, and you wouldn’t be with me now. I’m just
saying, I know he and the Demon King hate each other, but you said yourself we
can’t necessarily trust Rei, so why not at least listen?”
Izumi’s teeth grit, his fingers curling tightly around Leo’s hand. “Fine,” he
quietly, begrudgingly says. “But only because you’re asking me to.”
“Good enough,” Eichi brightly says. “Though honestly, I don’t have much to say.
I just want the Demon King dead and my Academy back. He sunk my house into the
ground and broke all my teacups. Oh, and he has my two favorites held hostage,
that infuriates me.”
“Leo, why are you even wasting your time with this—“
“And also,” Eichi interrupts, his eyes narrowing. “I’m very willing to see Leo
back to the throne. The whole of the kingdom supports me. I’ve protected them
from dangerous wizards for quite some time, you know…since I took over, human
deaths by wizard blooming? Almost negligible, compared to the past.”
“There’s never been a good system in place for wizards and humans existing side
by side,” Leo admits grudgingly. “In the past...a lot of people died because of
young untrained wizards. This system...people have been willing to overlook a
lot of reports of issues because the deaths to Father’s people have been so
low. So I definitely, number one, want to repeal all the bad things that are
happening to wizards, just like I promised,” he says firmly, locking eyes with
Eichi, feeling an odd twitch under the cloak. Weird. “Like, no more legislating
celibacy for the others if you’re going to have sex, that’s just bad
leadership.”
“I’m not human, and I’m not a normal wizard,” Eichi immediately retorts to
that. “I don’t see why—“
“Because you’re keeping them from having normal human relationships,
obviously.”
Eichi exhales irritably, shrugging. “If I could guarantee they could
emotionally deal with it,” he says, “that would be one thing. But I can’t. You
can’t have less deaths and also have wizards fucking each other—or normal
humans!—all the time. Even well-trained wizards are emotionally volatile. Say
the wrong thing, remind them they can’t have babies, break up a relationship,
you name it, they’ll blow up a city. That’s why the restriction is in place,
and it makes sense.”
“Except for the part where it makes enough people hate you that they take over
your house and break all your teacups,” Leo says dryly. “And you have wizards
that aren’t normal humans or normal wizards. This one isn’t up for debate,
Eichi. I made a promise that I wouldn’t allow those restrictions to continue.
I’ll hear arguments for counseling, or for discouraging wizard/human
interaction, or whatever, but the underwear and the instant death sentence have
got to go.”
“It’s only a death sentence for the humans, not the wizards!”
Izumi folds his arms again. “Excellent. Then go ahead and kill me.”
Eichi sighs, rolling his eyes. “Yes, yes, I’m aware you have multiple offenses,
starting with that cute blond that you’re bonded to, which is highly
inconvenient for everyone. If you want me to repeal something like this, Leo,
then the crown will need to take on far more responsibility, financially. Do
you really want to pay for all the inevitable damage that will be done when
untrained, idiot wizards hit puberty and decide it’s the end of the world when
a woman won’t marry them because they’re sterile?”
Izumi stares back at him with narrowed eyes. “…Why do you do that?”
“Hm? Do what?”
“Just…lie. Randomly. To unsettle people.”
Eichi blinks. “I’m not lying about anything. Ah, why are half-breeds all like
this, you’re all so rude.”
“Did you--wait, first, stop calling him a half-breed, it sounds a lot worse
than a half-blood for some reason,” Leo says, brow furrowed. “Did you just...”
He swallows, looking up at Izumi. Surely, Izumi would have told him if he
were...if he and Arashi were...
Or would he?
“I’m willing to put in more fiscal responsibility,” he says instead, very
carefully, lowering his eyes from where he’s not sure he wants to see a lie.
“We can discuss the details later. But if human/wizard interaction is the
problem, I can see about allocating the Academy more land, so that wizards
won’t go so stir-crazy if they’re kept at the Academy until they’re older, or
sending them on specifically all-wizard tasks until they’re, say, twenty? Until
the hormones have died down, at least. Is that a good start? It’s not
legislating that they can’t fuck, but just kinda...keeping them away from
falling in love with humans until they’re old enough to be smarter. That
underwear has to go, though.”
“Or I’ll make it an option, and those that choose to wear it will automatically
have higher standing because it makes my life a lot easier,” Eichi flatly
argues. “Human/wizard interaction is only part of it. Obviously, wizards like
to crawl all over each other as well. That’s how we got into this mess, just
look at the Demon King and his obnoxious little—“
“I can’t listen to this,” Izumi mutters, shifting restlessly, still entirely
unsettled by that one, throwaway statement. “Leo, how do you know the Demon
King isn’t just holding a spot for you? Did he imprison your father, or kill
him? If it’s the former, then he’s obviously not here to start a war—just give
him the Academy, let him do as he wants, and take your crown back.”
That cute blond you’re bonded to--
 The words churn in Leo’s mind, and he bites back a response to that as hard as
he can, swallowing it down. “I’m thinking through my options,” he says quietly,
“in case the Demon King really is just out for himself. But I fully intend to
ask him about what he wants, with the army you’ve helped me raise at my back.”
He reaches out to set his hand on Izumi’s, feeling it cold. “Isn’t it better to
negotiate from a place of power, with all the facts, instead of running off not
knowing anything? Isn’t that what you keep trying to tell me?”
“I don’t think this tyrant is an option,” Izumi lowly says, all but vibrating
underneath Leo’s touch. “I’ve spoken to enough wizards—“
“Half a dozen isn’t enough, honestly—“
“One would be enough, if you treat them the way I know you have!”
Eichi sighs, shrugging. “That’s your opinion, and their word against mine. I
believe it was justified.”
“The words of a liar mean absolutely nothing in this situation.”
“For the last time, I’m a lot of things, but not a liar. I—“ Eichi pauses, his
head tilting. “Oh. Oh, I just got it. You didn’t know, did you? Ooh.” He leans
forward, eyes glittering. “That’s fascinating. I always thought half-breeds
were more in-tune with it, somehow, but I suppose you are still a baby.”
Leo’s heart twists. “Izumi, it’s--you don’t, do you?” He can’t help himself
from asking anymore, even if his instincts warn him that he really, really
doesn’t want to know the answer. “I mean, I know you’ve been...spending a lot
of time with him, and...you like him an awful lot, and...”
And I heard you tell him you love him. And I know you murdered three people for
him yesterday.
 “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Izumi immediately, flatly says,
taking a step back. “Honestly, I don’t. I think I’d know if I was bonded,
thanks, and even if I didn’t, taking the word of this bastard after he’s
tortured and killed so many people—“
“The way you say it makes it sound like such a senseless thing.” Eichi pouts.
“Leo, I can assure you—“
“I’m done. This is absolutely ridiculous, and I’m waking the others up, and
we’re going, far away from him so this can fucking stop. Get dressed, Milord,
and maybe correct him when he tries to address you so intimately.” Izumi spins
on his heel, stalking out of the room, the door slamming behind him.
“Quite a temper on that one,” Eichi remarks, leaning back against the headboard
again. “Well.”
“You...weren’t lying. Were you?” Leo asks softly, tucking his knees up to his
chin. “He formed a resonant bond.” With someone who isn’t me.
“Honestly, how many times do I have to say it—of course I wasn’t lying.” Eichi
looks at Leo after that, however, and heaves a sigh. Right, right. What’s the
human, sympathetic way to react? “I’ve done quite a bit of research on these
kinds of things,” he says, reaching over to pet Leo’s hair. “It’s, annoyingly,
not something that can be controlled. We can’t choose who we bond with, for
better or for worse.”
“I never felt jealous of people that had them,” Leo says quietly, closing his
eyes, letting Eichi play with his hair. “But knowing my lover has one with
someone else...that...” He swallows, and it’s so difficult it feels as if he’s
swallowing a live frog. “That means he’ll stop loving me, doesn’t it? He has
to, right?”
“If he can’t feel that it’s there, then probably not,” Eichi lightly says. “You
know, I’ve always wondered if you kill a half-breed’s bonded…especially a half-
drake, like your lover…if they die the same as any normal human would. Probably
not. I’ll go kill the one he’s bonded to, would you like that?”
“No!” Leo’s voice is sharp, almost panicked. “No, no, that’s awful! Just--just
because he’s, because this has...happened...that doesn’t mean I want anyone to
die!”
Maybe Izumi’s right. Maybe talking to Eichi is a waste of time--not because
he’s evil, but because he so clearly can’t understand anything about what makes
one evil or good. Leo springs up, feverishly yanking on his clothing,
haphazardly tying his cloak around his shoulders. “I have to go.”
Eichi sighs, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, watching Leo as he
dresses. “Well, fine, but you haven’t heard my final proposition, and I think
it’s a good one.”
“Tell me fast, please.” Leo looks up, eyes wild. “And make it good, I really
want something to believe in right now.”
“Give me that Nightcloak next door, and I’ll do anything you like, down to
stripping every law you find distasteful in the Academy, down to following you
directly back to the Capital and speaking on your behalf the second the Demon
King tries to withhold the throne from you. I’ll even do the dirty work for
you, and kill him if he resists. I know how to.” Eichi leans forward, lifting
his eyebrows. “I’ll have the Himemiya family finance your every move on the
throne—for the betterment of your people.”
Leo’s breath stutters.
I should do it.
 His world spins, and he feels his feet waver.
It would be worth it.
 His heart beats, so hard his ribs hurt.
I could save so many lives.
 Eichi’s eyes glitter at him.
This is how it starts. This is how every tyrant starts coming to power. Leo
knows that much from his lessons. Every tyrant begins as someone who makes just
one deal, one slip, and the next one is easier. It makes sense, it might even
be the right choice. Natsume is dangerous, obviously, and his power is
unchecked. He even hates Leo, and probably won’t even work with him. He’s
nothing but a threat, and Eichi is offering him everything he needs, everything
he needs to help people, in exchange.
And this is how it starts.
With the sacrifice of an innocent, people become tokens, chips, currency. Leo
sucks in a breath, and looks away from the shining carrot dangled in front of
him. “I’m really glad,” he says softly, tying his cloak around his shoulders,
“that you proved you weren’t trustworthy when you offered me a blood pact.
Because now, even if I wanted to, I can’t trust that you’ll keep your word. So,
thank you, but I’m going. I still wouldn’t mind working with you in the future,
but not this. I won’t ever trade you lives. Not sorry.”
Eichi exhales a soft breath, his eyes lidding. “How disappointing,” he murmurs,
tapping his chin thoughtfully as he rises to his feet. “Especially because
you’re misunderstanding me so…obviously.” He holds out a hand, and curls his
fingers. “Come here. If you want a real pact, I’ll give you one.”
“You’ve offered me such things before,” Leo says, backing up, shaking his head.
“His life isn’t mine to trade. A sovereign citizen isn’t, and he is one. His
citizenship was never signed over to the Academy.”
“He’s from the Isles, I can tell by the way he speaks. He doesn’t belong to
either of us, technically, but if he’s traveling with you, isn’t he your
wizard? So, sign him over.” Eichi reaches out, quick as a snake, and grabs
Leo’s wrist, yanking him forward and over to him. “But before you do that, I’ll
give you the pact you want.”
“I won’t give you any life that doesn’t belong to you,” Leo says, eyes blazing,
though he doesn’t snatch his hand back. “You should want to support me because
it’s the right way forward, and we both know damn well you don’t have another
candidate for the crown that will be more positive on wizards than me.”
“I am supporting you because it’s the right way forward. Do you see me trying
to negotiate with the Demon King right now? Or with your father?” Eichi leans
down so that their eyes can meet. “What,” he softly asks, “do you think I’m
going to do to him? If you’re so hesitant, you must think there’s some truth to
the nonsense your associates have been rambling on about. He’s unusual, and all
I want is to preserve that.”
“How about,” Leo says quietly, looking Eichi directly in the eyes, “if he
agrees to go with you, I’ll agree to sign away his life to you? After all...if
you mean him no harm and you aren’t the monster they say, he should have no
problem doing so, right?”
“That would be ideal. But I don’t know what sort of lies he’s been told, and I
certainly don’t know what care he’s been under for all of these years…if it has
anything to do with the Demon King, then I’m absolutely certain he’s been lied
to, and everything about the Academy has been twisted in his mind. More
importantly—“
Eichi grabs Leo by the chin, dragging him forward, crushing their lips
together. His power sings outward, a glowing golden cord and starts to wrap its
way about Leo’s neck, but it hits…something. Eichi doesn’t have a chance to
fully figure out what that something is, however, before his already cut-off
magic triggers a low-laid nest of blockers and alarms laid throughout the room,
making them all flare up at once as a strangely laid spiderweb from wall to
wall, furniture to furniture, window to door, sparking purple lines of power
from spot to spot. “Oh, that’s just annoying,” Eichi sighs, rocking back onto
his heels. “That didn’t react when I used magic before.”
“Yeah, it did. It warned me you were here ahead of time.”
Mika stands in the doorway, visibly trembling, but with his jaw set stubbornly
all the same. “Your Highness, get away from him.”
“You know, I’m rather fond of birds, but crows always irritate the shit out of
me,” Eichi moodily says. “They’re always brighter than I want them to be. Trash
birds shouldn’t be. Did your master teach you that trick? Had to be before he
lost what was left of his good sense—“
One of the strands of magic abruptly rises, tightens around Eichi’s neck, and
yanks him backwards to sling him back into the wall, with every other strand
soon following to wrap and pin him within a glowing web. He grunts, annoyed.
“You wouldn’t dare—“
“You think I won’t fuckin’ kill you?” Mika snarls, surging forward into the
room. “You think I can’t see how weak you are right now? You can hide it from
every other person, not me!”
Leo’s breath catches, and he stumbles backward, eyes wide, staring at Eichi
caught in a spiderweb of shimmering magic, eyes darting to where Mika’s
mismatched eyes blaze. “You can’t,” he says, voice quavering with something
that feels oddly like self-preservation.
“Don’t think he won’t.” Arashi stands in the doorway behind Mika, hand on his
shoulder, the other holding a shimmering sword. “If anyone’s got reason to want
to do this, it’s--”
“That’s not what I mean!” Leo stands, tucking his hair behind his ear. “I’m not
telling you not to, I’m telling you you can’t. You don’t know how to kill him,
do you? How do you know that trying won’t just piss him off and free him?”
Mika’s stare is unwavering, and he lifts his hand before slowly curling his
fingers towards his palm, every strand of the web tightening slowly around
Eichi until he coughs, clearly struggling for a full breath. “I’m willin’ to
give it a shot. Step back, Milord, I already told you once.”
“Leo, come here.” Izumi’s voice is far calmer than Mika’s as he steps past
Arashi enough to hold out his hand. “They can handle him, we need to leave.”
Leo slowly moves toward Izumi, heart thudding hard. “Someone needs to be
watching the Nightcloak,” he says quietly, eyes on Eichi, not saying his name
for fear of spilling more information. “That’s what he came for. But he
promised me--he promised me he’ll work to make things better, we don’t know
what the Demon King is going to do.”
“Who cares?” Arashi asks. “It’s better than murdering children for the way
they’re born, and anyone who falls in love. I know damn sure that Rei won’t do
that.”
“He’s already been taken away, it’s a nonissue.” Izumi’s eyes lid, his hand
steady. “Right now, what’s important is that you stay safe. So let’s go, and we
can talk while we leave—“
“Wrong, I didn’t come for that cute little kitty.”
Mika’s web splits open straight down the middle, and Mika immediately,
frantically rips that power back to himself, blocking the resulting backlash
and slap of Eichi’s own power from everyone else. It makes him slide backwards
into Arashi, teeth gritted to keep back a yelp. “I came for the prince,” Eichi
sniffs, dusting himself off with a wrinkle of his nose. “Who is a much prettier
example of a bird, I think. You know, you’re strong for a disgusting little
crow, but if all you eat is carrion, it starts to show. Leo, come back here,
I’m not done talking to you.”
Leo’s breath catches. He turns to look at Izumi, then Arashi, who holds Mika
close. “Take care of him,” he says, with a little smile. “Keep them safe. Go,
yeah?”
Then he steps forward, between Eichi and the rest of them, going to his side.
Arashi grabs Izumi by the arm, tossing Mika over his shoulder as he makes for
the door.
Shock immediately filters over Izumi’s face, but it turns to anger just as
quickly. “What? No—dammit, no, Leo, you dumbass—Arashi, let me—“
“Sorry, Izumi,” Mika mutters, pushing himself up on Arashi’s shoulder and
reaching out back towards the door, simultaneously yanking it shut with one
simple, magical pull, and leaving criss-crossing lines of magic back over it
that disappear and meld into it with a last, shadowy glitter. “Kara, knock him
out so we can leave faster.”
Arashi moves lightning-fast, striking Izumi at the temple with the hilt of his
sword. Then he tosses Izumi over his other shoulder, and leaps down the entire
flight of stairs, headed at a dead run for the stables.
“He’s going to be furious,” he says conversationally a few moments later,
holding tight to Vale’s reins as they gallop East, an unconscious Izumi tied to
the saddle. “But that was fast thinking, amaka. Ahhh, my legs are going to hurt
for days from that jump, but it was impressive, right?”
“There’s no way he’d let us leave Leo behind,” Mika says with a shake of his
head, clinging to Arashi’s back. Shedding another horse makes their trail
lighter, though he’s going to miss his. “And even if the Emperor’s weaker than
I’ve ever seen him, too many people were around, it’d be bad if I actually
tried to fight him.” He buries his face into the back of Arashi’s neck. “Kara’s
always impressive,” he murmurs. “I can feel Natsu ‘bout a league ahead. Damn,
Fianna’s fast.”
“She’d be honestly useless in a real battle,” Arashi says with a sigh. “Unless
you want a horse that’ll simply run away from the Inglings. If that creature
has ever seen anything as scary as a snog, I’ll eat my boots with no sauce.
Nah, you want a great beast like Neigh or Vale here, that can dish out a heap
of pain and take some of their own.”
“But she’s useful right now, ‘cause now the Emperor knows we’ve got a prophet
and the best thing we can do is play keep away.” Mika winces. “Especially when
it’s a prophet who accurately predicted this. He told me he saw a lot of stuff
with the Emperor and the prince, but the timeline was all jumbled—I didn’t
expect it to happen so soon, but I don’t think he did, either. But it’s…it’s
why he couldn’t even look at Leo. He seemed real weird, didn’t he? Like he
couldn’t help but stay, but I know the Emperor didn’t have a spell on him, I
stopped him from doing just that.”
“Everyone seems weird right now,” Arashi says with a sigh, spurring Neigh
faster, ignoring Vale’s snap at his arm. “Everything’s gone mad, hasn’t it? I
don’t even know where we’re going. The Capital? I have an army, but no prince
to put on the throne.”
“The Capital,” Mika softly agrees, shoving his face back firmly into Arashi’s
shoulder. “Because at least Rei and Master are there. They’ll know what to do
next. If…Leo’s gonna keep tryin’ to side with the Emperor like that…kara, I
can’t side with him, you know that, right?”
Arashi snorts. “I know, amaka. But did that really sound to you like he was
trying to side with the Emperor? He was going to leave with us before the
Emperor burst your little trap, I don’t think he’s turned. I still believe in
that red little fool.”
“I know. I know, he’s jus’—it’s weird. All of it’s weird.” Mika pauses, then
adds, grumpily, “Though either way, my opinion of him’s pretty low right now
‘cause he can have deliberate, casual sex with someone like that. Gross.”
“I don’t really know how anyone has casual sex,” Arashi admits. “It doesn’t
ever work for me. I’ve tried, but if I don’t care about the person, it doesn’t
work. It’s why I can’t really imagine myself ever marrying a woman and doing
right by her.” He pauses, then asks, because talking about this shit is
stressful, “Have you ever been with a woman, darling?”
“Yeah. But I don’t wanna talk about it.” Mika’s eyes lid, and his arms tighten
around Arashi’s waist. “I don’t get it, either,” he quietly admits. “If you
don’t care about someone, what’s the point? But I feel like havin’ casual sex
with a bad person is even worse. It’s not like we haven’t told him that the
Emperor’s bad, and he still…”
“I don’t know. For him...maybe that makes it hotter. I used to have this one
lieutenant,” Arashi recalls conversationally, easing Neigh into a canter that’s
easier on her than the gallop, “who’d only bend over for men that had bedded
his sister first. I knew another one that used to pay ladies to hit him with
riding crops--oh, there was one who would only go to bed with men that called
him the cruelest names. He used to beg me--apparently, me being his superior
office made it more attractive for him. It takes all kinds, you know? I try not
to judge men professionally on what they like in that way.”
“All of those are different.” Mika relaxes back into the saddle a bit, not
feeling like he has to cling to Arashi to keep himself steady any longer at
this pace. Fianna is fast, but Neigh isn’t exactly slow. “Do you know why the
Emperor keeps callin’ me a crow?”
“I have no idea, really. You’ve never reminded me of a crow.” Arashi frowns.
“Is it something from when you were young?”
“Sort of. When I first was brought to the Academy, even he couldn’t get near
me. My magic’s real effective on him, actually. He doesn’t like that, so he
doesn’t like me. But what he’d do instead of dealin’ with me himself is set the
Faerie on me. Anytime I’d freak out, and not be able to control anythin’…he’d
just send the Faerie after me, and he’d…jus’ cut them down. The ghosts, I mean.
Just a touch and they disintegrate. And it hurts. Burns, like someone’s dumpin’
their pipe ash out on your skin.” Mika’s teeth set into a grind. “Anyway, the
Emperor never calls the Faerie by that name. He calls him his falcon, and guess
what falcons like to divebomb out of the sky and eat.”
Arashi rides in silence for a few moments. It’s hard to tell which is bothering
him most, the fact that Mika has always known exactly what pipe ash on the skin
feels like, or the idea of him being relentlessly attacked at the first place
he’d ever felt safe. “You know that no one knows that stuff, right? I’m not
saying it would be different if Leo knew, but it could be. Even I didn’t know
that. I mean, it’s hard for me to not turn around now and kill him myself, the
only reason I’m not is because I’m pretty sure I couldn’t.”
“You can’t.” Mika just sounds tired at that statement, and he slumps forward,
hooking his chin over Arashi’s shoulder. “I can’t, either. Threatenin’ him sure
was fun, though, and I definitely could’ve beaten him up a bit, if I wasn’t
worried about other people dyin’. See, I don’t mind tellin’ those stories to
you, because you just believe me, and don’t try to see anything out of it other
than what it is. Like, ‘well, maybe he was like that because—‘ No, fuck that.
He’s jus’ a bad person and he gets off on it. I’d have to explain it five ways
‘till Leo might hear it right, and I’m not good enough at words to do that.”
“This is dumb. I wish you were riding in front of me so I could cuddle you. You
can tell me anything, you know. Anything that’s killing you inside, those
horrors--I won’t judge you, and I won’t remember it later when you’re begging
me to do you hard, either.” Arashi pats Mika’s hand, then squeezes it. “I’m not
one of those people who needs to see the best in arseholes, or who can’t handle
the worst in people I love.”
“Yeah. I know. That’s why I love you.” Mika squeezes Arashi’s waist hard.
“Neither of us are good at sugarcoatin’, and I like it that way. Hey, we could
totally just fuck off now if we wanted. No more prince, and we already got the
boy we like. He killed bad people for you, he’s good.”
Arashi’s hand twitches. He looks sideways at Izumi, then at the forking road in
front of them. One leads North, the other to the Capital. “That needs to be a
lot less tempting,” he says with a sigh, and pulls Neigh and Vale to a stop.
Then he leans sideways, and gives Izumi a shake. “Wake up, lazy. Want your
input.”
Izumi groans as he stirs, his brow furrowing, and he shifts, his head lolling.
“Fuck you, my head hurts.”
“Doubtful, you heal when you’re unconscious,” Mika remarks, smoothing his cloak
out over Neigh’s back. “I’ve watched.”
“Nn.” Izumi’s eyes blearily crack open, and he glowers over at Arashi. “Fucking
untie me. Right now.”
“What are you going to do if I do?” Arashi asks, whirling Neigh to face Izumi
on Vale. “Run back and try to fight the Emperor for your love? We’re hours
away. They could be anywhere.”
“I have to do something, don’t I?” Izumi snaps, subtly shifting in his saddle,
which is more than enough for Vale to rear and rip his reins straight out of
Arashi’s grasp. “The Emperor obviously has him under some kind of spell—“
“Nope,” Mika wearily says, slumping against Arashi’s back. “I checked, he
ain’t.”
“Then—then he’s got him convinced of gods know what, and I have to go and try
to stop him from doing something stupid.” Izumi’s lower lip trembles. “He’s
already doing everything he can to break Leo and I apart—he told Leo that you
and I were bonded, Arashi, what the hell.”
Mika blinks at that, his brow knitting, but he says nothing.
“Eh? But we can’t be,” Arashi points out, with a slow blink. “I’m not a wizard,
and neither are you. Only wizards can have them, right, amaka?”
“…Yeah, it’s definitely a wizard thing. I don’t think half-bloods count.”
Mika’s head cocks slowly. “What…exactly did he say?”
“He said…gods, I don’t even remember exactly. Just something about the ‘cute
blond I was bonded to.’” Izumi sniffles, and tries to contort in the saddle to
pick up Vale’s reins with his damned teeth. “I swear, I’m not bonded to anyone,
wouldn’t I feel it? Ugh, untie me already, come on!”
“No,” Arashi says flatly. “To the untying thing. Damn, the first chance you
really get for what you honestly want, and you’re not going to take it? I see
how it is.”
“W-what are you even talking about? Arashi, please, I have to go back to help
him, literally no one else is going to, no one else gets it and no one else is
ever going to take care of him properly!”
Mika’s eyes roll skyward, and he flops back against Arashi’s back. “Kasa’s
circling back with Natsu, we took too long.”
“Last chance,” Arashi offers, though his voice doesn’t have much hope in it. “I
doubt you’ll agree, but you told me to ask you again.” He points down the main
road. “That’s where Natsume and Tsukasa are. Capital. War. Fighting. Leo and
the Emperor and the Demon King.”
He points towards the other road. “The North. Your mother will be there soon,
since the King isn’t on the throne anymore. Running away. You and me and Mika,
and no more fighting, and everyone loves you. Choose.”
“This is the worst time you could ever ask me again,” Izumi whispers. His chest
aches from how hard his heart is thudding. Every second that passes is a second
that Leo could be twisted or hurt by the Emperor’s hand, and that scares him
more than anything. “I can’t lose him again,” he blurts out, blinking hard, and
hot tears streak down his face. “I can’t.”
“Well, it was worth a shot,” Arashi says with a sigh, and wheels Neigh towards
the Capital. “When we die fighting someone else’s war, amaka, remember this
moment. We could have had warming stones. Yooohoo, Tsukasa!”
“I’m gonna ask him again, when the prince keeps fucking the Emperor,” Mika
mutters so only Arashi can hear. “I like warming stones.”
The sound of approaching hoofbeats is much louder after only a few more
seconds, and the cloud of dust that Fianna kicks up when she skids to an
eventual stop is impressive, to say the least. “Oh, thank the gods,” Tsukasa
breathes, looking decidedly windswept, his face flushed from the force of wind.
“You’re all in one piece. Ah…where’s the prince? And…why is Izumi tied to his
saddle…”
Natsume slowly unwraps his arms from Tsukasa’s waist, looking decidedly shaken,
his wide-eyed stare peeking out from his cloak’s hood.
“What’s going on with you?” Arashi asks bluntly, peering at Natsume. “Still
sick? More bad dreams? Izumi, get over here, I’ll untie you if you promise not
to go back West, since they’re absolutely not there anymore.”
“…Fine.” Izumi sniffs, nudging Vale over. “Fuck you,” he quietly adds.
“I…I’m all right,” Natsume answers, though there’s an edge of nerves still in
his voice. “I’ve just never…been so close to the Emperor before. He
feels…weird.”
“Doesn’t he?” Mika agrees. “’s no good.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help you plan for this more,” Natsume adds,
glancing down. “I didn’t expect it to come true so quickly.”
“Hey, you see stuff,” Arashi interjects. “The Emperor said Izumi has a resonant
bond with me, what the hell? That’s not right, is it? Natsume, you’ve made
weird comments about knowing who’s got bonds before.”
Natsume blinks at Arashi, then shakes his head, pulling his ponytail over his
shoulder to smooth it down. “No, that’s completely wrong. You don’t have a bond
with anyone.”
“Can you like…see them?” Mika presses, sort of mystified in spite of himself.
“That’s cool.”
“I can, but not in the way that you’re thinking. It’s…I can see how people are
connected. Like strings. If some of them are particularly strong, maybe it’s a
bond. It’s not foolproof.”
Arashi opens his mouth, then shuts it again. “Well. That’s that, then, and the
Emperor is a big fat liar about Izumi having a bond. I mean, it’s smart, if he
wanted to get Leo on his side somehow. By the way, I’m not giving up on that
boy, for all we know he’s got a plan. He’s wily like a cat, you know? So if
anyone here actually wants to betray the prince and fuck off, do so, but if
not, let’s go to the Capital and see what the Demon King is planning.”
“I’ve already sworn to serve the prince regardless of his actions,” Tsukasa
softly says. “I’m certain he must have a plan. He wouldn’t do this and be so
easily fooled.”
“Gods, I told Leo that he was lying,” Izumi miserably says, rubbing at his
wrists once they’re freed and drops his feet from his stirrups, stretching out
his cramped legs. “I don’t know why he won’t just leave the Emperor alone,
obviously he’s a sack of shit.”
Natsume studies them both for a moment longer, then says, bluntly, “I said
Arashi didn’t have a bond, not that Izumi didn’t have a bond.”
Izumi’s head jerks up. “Huh?”
Natsume’s eyes narrow, tracking something only he can see. “…Maybe. I don’t
know. It’s not foolproof. Let me read your palm.”
“No, I’m going to kill you. I’m not bonded to anyone, damn it, I’d fucking feel
it. I’m sick of you damned wizards, I’m going to the Capital already!”
Izumi snatches up Vale’s reins and kicks him forward, taking off down the road,
and Mika heaves a sigh, staring skyward. “My vote’s still on warmin’ stones,
jus’ in case anyone gives a fuck.”
“I know, darling. Just stay close to me, I’ll keep you safe. And after the
world is all sorted out, we’ll get our own warming stone.” Arashi smiles,
though his thoughts are churning. The Emperor hadn’t looked like a man playing
a trick, but a man revealing a bit of information he’d been hanging onto,
whether Izumi wants to believe it or not. “Besides, I overheard earlier. The
Faerie’s still holed up and injured. That’s good, right? You don’t have to be
afraid of his pet fucking falcon.”
“I’m not afraid of him, I wanna scratch his face off,” Mika mutters grumpily,
clinging back to Arashi’s waist. “We’re goin’ back to the Capital. Master’s
there, and the Demon King’s there. Between the three of you, I’d have it good
if we didn’t have to keep runnin’ around takin’ care of stupid stuff.”
“I still think Izumi should let me read his palm,” Natsume huffily says, and
Tsukasa shakes his head, turning Fianna back towards the road.
“Why?” Arashi demands. “What’s the good of seeing the future if there’s nothing
you can do to change it? It obviously isn’t making you any happier,
sweetheart.”
“Because at least then I can prepare myself and not expect something good to
happen when I know it’s not going to.”
The words sound hollow, and Natsume sucks in a sharp breath. “But I don’t want
to do that this time. Maybe if I talk to Lord Rei, he’ll know how to change it.
I…in this case…I have to try.”
“I can go, if you want,” Arashi suggests suddenly. “I’ll take Fianna, Tsukasa
can ride Neigh. I’m the strongest fighter we’ve got, and about as
indestructible as Izumi. If having me around will help, I’ll go to High Harbor
right now. Maybe that’ll change something.”
“Nope,” Mika says abruptly. “You’re not allowed to. Sorry, Natsu.”
“I don’t think that would change anything, anyway,” Natsume says, shaking his
head. “But thank you. You’ve been very kind to me. I…I think it has to be
something more drastic, but I don’t know what to do yet. I just hope nothing
happens before I can alter it.”
“Well, then.” Arashi forces a smile, and spurs Neigh forward again. “I suppose
we’d better hurry, then. And if we wind up in Canvera tonight, I’m sleeping in
the mud.”
***** Chapter 46 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
The Capital, somehow, isn’t in disarray. If anything, it seems…almost peaceful,
somehow, though Izumi’s so on edge that it makes travel anything but that.
Then again, wouldn’t any citizen be interested in peace and quiet after weeks
and weeks of starvation? The Northern army’s blockades are gone, with only a
few lingering bits and pieces of them, but their group passes them easily, with
Izumi as their vanguard. Upon entering the Capital itself, however, it isn’t
Izumi that helps them gain access.
“You, Nooncloak!”
Mika nearly jumps out of his skin out of habit, clinging tightly to Arashi’s
back. Being called out to like that never has good results, but this time, the
guards come directly to them at the gates, a hand held out in front of their
horses. “His Excellency directly ordered us to send you to him upon your
arrival—you can directly report to the palace at any time with your escorts.”
“…Since when do I have escorts?” Mika wryly asks when his heart stops thudding,
and Izumi snorts as he leads the way, knowing the quickest road.
“Since you’re the favorite of our new queen-apparent. Gods, have you ever seen
so many weeds everywhere? It’s just plain odd.”
“That’s how you know Lord Rei is here,” Natsume says dreamily. “In the Isles,
even at night, you’d see all these flowers just opening up and blooming
everywhere—everything always smelled so nice.”
Arashi whistles lowly, looking around. “I hate to say it,” he murmurs in
Izumi’s ear, “but it looks kind of nice. Quiet, at least. Hey, I didn’t forget,
I owe you some names. Feel free to camp outside with your mother tonight, it’ll
be done by morning.”
“I’m not a coward.” Izumi’s grip is vice-tight on Vale’s reins, his knuckles
white. “Do what you will, but I’m not waiting outside while you do it. I have
too much to take care of here.”
“I’m afraid this is where I need to leave you,” Tsukasa apologizes, cutting
into their conversation. “I’ll be sure to check in later, but—I need to touch
base with my family. I’ve been gone for far too long, and they deserve a proper
update of this…unusual situation.”
“That’s a word for it,” Izumi exhales, but he nods. “Toss Natsume up behind me,
I’ll take him.”
Arashi helps move Natsume up behind Izumi, patting him into place. “Get out of
here, Tsukasa. Regards to your family, though they’d be horrified you spoke to
someone so lowborn.”
“That’s enough,” a voice rings out, and Shu banishes the guards with a flick of
his hand, sending them scurrying. He stands tall and proud, his black cloak
almost seeming to swirl around him, but his face softens immeasurably when he
sees Mika. Then he holds out his arms. “You look a disgrace, come here and let
me fix you up.”
Tsukasa offers a last, brief wave before he’s gone, Fianna leaving them all in
her literal dust. Mika has no time for it. Shu’s voice, far more than the sight
of him, makes him leap off of Neigh in a heartbeat, launching himself full-
force into his open arms. “Master—“Which is arguably the last word in the
common tongue that spills out of his mouth before he starts babbling, very
happily, in desert tongue as he buries his face into Shu’s chest and clings to
his neck.
“Hello to you, too, Milady,” Izumi wryly greets, though his expression is fond.
“Or whatever I’m supposed to call you now. His Excellency still? Seems wrong.”
“I’m going to require that you not fall victim to this incredibly stupid trend
of calling me the Demon Queen. It’s quite erotic, but hardly appropriate, as
I’m not a demon, and for once in my life am able to use my male anatomy as
freely as I’d like,” Shu says dryly, but he has a smile for Izumi. “It isn’t as
though I’ve missed you or anything. But you are a sight for sore eyes. Ah, I’d
do something about your hair, but...” He gestures fondly down to Mika,
thoroughly attached to him. “I’m quite busy at the moment having my cloak
rumpled. Do come in, I’m sure my lord will speak to you, if that’s why you’re
here. Thank you, and you, Captain, for returning Mika safely to me.”
“For that, the pleasure will always be mine,” Arashi says cheerfully, following
at Shu’s heels when he turns. His eyebrows raise, and he murmurs to Izumi, “I
always thought he was delicate, but it doesn’t even look like it’s hard for him
to carry Mika around one-handed. I know he’s thin, but he is a grown man.”
“I’d make a joke about sex being good strength training for some, but I don’t
think Shu’s the one doing most of the work,” Izumi snidely whispers back.
Natsume, for his part, is still too mystified with the Capital itself, and
remains latched to Izumi’s back, obviously somewhat startled at the scale of
everything.
“Master, Master, you look so good—I’ve never seen your hourglass look that
full, you know? Nnn, I’ve missed you so much, I’m no good at bein’ th’ wizard
that’s in charge of stuff but I had to and it was scary but now you’re here and
I don’t want y’to ever leave again—“
“Don’t be absurd, you look quite well and very beautiful. It’s a testament to
my skills and training, of course, that you’ve managed to do as well as you
have.” Shu absently pets Mika’s hair, straightening it and combing through some
of the tangles with a murmured word. “Doesn’t it smell delightful? You may
praise my lord, or me, I’m the one who coordinated the color scheme,
obviously.”
Mika nods even as he simultaneously tries to butt his head against Shu’s touch,
which isn’t helpful for anyone. “Everything’s so much prettier than when I saw
the capital before,” he softly says. “I dunno what I expected, but it wasn’t
this. I thought…everyone would be a lot more ready to fight a wizard tryin’ to
be king.”
The palace grounds are far more heavily guarded. Izumi’s nerves get the better
of him, and he pulls his hood up, no matter the relatively sunny, pleasant
weather. “Hand Neigh off to me, I’ll go drop the horses off in the stables,” he
mutters. “There’s no one here that can handle Vale, either.”
Arashi hands over the reins without complaint, giving Izumi a squeeze on the
shoulder. “Make sure they’re close by, she likes to watch him eat, the little
freak.”
“Sounds fun. Here, trade.” Izumi pushes Natsume into Arashi’s hold instead, and
makes quick work of disappearing.
Mika spares a glance after Izumi, then leans up, whispering into Shu’s ear,
“There’s a lot of things with the Emperor I need to tell you…in private,
probably.” Better not to have anyone else around to sway the conversation,
because with Natsume’s prophecies and Izumi’s obvious concern, it could get
messy.
“You two carry on, I’m going to see to this poor child here,” Arashi offers.
“Hmm? No, absolutely not, my lord wishes to see him. Then we can speak in
private.”
Arashi purses his lips. “How about someone takes him off my hands, then, and I
can go do my duties while you all do your wizardly--”
“Yes, yes, you’re no more use here,” Shu says irritably, flapping a hand. “Set
him on that bench, my lord is on his way.”
“Great, thanks!” Arashi sets Natsume onto the bench, assures him, “You’re with
wizards now, that’s good!” and turns to run off, eyes sharp as he scans the
city.
“Natsu had a real bad vision while we were on the road,” Mika quietly says
after waving a quick good-bye to Arashi. Ahh, it’s a bit of a relief to finally
be able to just talk about magic, straight forwardly, and not have to water it
down. He imagines Arashi feels the same way about battle or swords with him,
and that’s what Izumi’s good for. Sadly, Natsume is no substitute for Shu,
being as untrained as he is. “It’d be good if Rei talked to him about it, I
think.”
“I don’t even know if it would help,” Natsume admits. “But I want to try and
change the outcome, if I can.”
“All of my favorites in one place? How unlikely.”
Natsume bolts up immediately at the sound of that voice, and it takes no time
at all for him to lunge forward, latching onto Rei with the full force of his
meager weight. Rei catches him easily, swinging him around, and Natsume clings
to his neck, muffling a sniffle into the thick curls of his hair. “Look at
you—I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dress like a boy, what a surprise,” he
says with a laugh, letting Natsume dangle from him as he offers Shu a smile. “I
see you’ve acquired a growth already. Hello, little bird.”
“I ain’t lettin’ go,” Mika says very seriously. “So I hope you two already had
your fun for the day.”
“This,” Shu says, fondly cuddling Mika, “is the most wholesome thing we’ve done
in days, my lord. We should feed them. This one is far too light. Natsume, if
you’re more comfortable, I have a few gowns that would fit you in my quarters.”
Natsume only lifts his head at that suggestion. “Really?” He tries not to sound
too relieved, but fails. “That sounds very nice.”
“We should absolutely feed them,” Rei agrees, hefting Natsume up into his arms
more thoroughly. “This one is also far too light. Were you not fed during your
travels?”
“I eat, Master jus’ always says that,” Mika complains, snuggling firmly into
Shu’s chest. “You can’t let me get fat, I gotta be portable.”
“Think more of my strength than that, you little fool. And certainly that great
brute you’ve been using as a packmule will be able to cart you about no matter
how much you weigh. I’m speaking of the Captain, not your horse, in case your
mind failed to grasp the humor, ha!”
Mika’s eyes tear up, and he buries his face firmly into Shu’s neck. “I missed
you so much, Master,” he whispers.
“I wish I could say things like that and have people cling unrepentantly to
me,” Rei mildly comments, stroking Natsume’s back one-handedly. “Let’s settle
them in, and I’ll send for my puppy to bring them a nice meal.”
“Gotta tell you things,” Mika says with a sniffle, wiping his nose on Shu’s
cloak. “Master, you smell good.”
“Yes, I smell like my lord’s flowers. Aren’t they indescribably lovely? Well,
for anyone else. My words, of course, are always adequate.”
Shu steers them into a cushy parlor, settling himself and Mika on a large
armchair. “I thought this was quite nicer than the drafty throne room, though
that does have a certain aesthetic. Natsume, there are gowns in the cabinet
there. Use the red one, it’ll make a striking statement.”
Mika immediately nestles his way into Shu’s cloak, making himself comfortable.
“I noticed a lot of the guards and stuff look like they’re from the Academy,”
he quietly says.
“Mm, there’s a bit of crossover right now.” Rei sets Natsume down, and sheds
his own heavy cloak for ease of movement, tossing it over the back of a chair
to leave him in nothing but his breeches and low-laced shirt. He sets himself
to the task of helping Natsume undress, and flips his long ponytail over into
his face to keep it out of the way while helping him into the gown in question.
Natsume, for his part, looks intensely pleased over his attention, his eyes
lidded and cheeks lightly flushed as Rei laces him in. “Slowly, we’re working
on integrating as much of the original staff as we can, for everyone’s comfort.
It’s just a matter of making sure they’re truly loyal, and not set on driving
me out.”
He pulls Natsume’s ponytail back down, unravels it from its tie, and flops back
down into his own chair, pulling Natsume down onto the ottoman in front of him
to start the task of styling his hair into something fit for a lady, not a boy
that’s been traveling nonstop. “Fortunately, there are a number of noble
families willing to work with us. It’s just a matter of weeding out those that
are less than savory still…I’ll need to speak with the Sena heir later. Many of
the previous king’s advisors were less than forthcoming, and I’ll admit, I’ve
been single-minded in my pursuits up until now. I’d say I’d love to speak with
the prince, but he seems to be…missing?”
“The Emperor has him.” Mika pauses, then says curtly, “Or rather, he left with
the Emperor.”
“By choice?” Shu asks sharply. “Rei, stop that, you’re making it far worse.
Mika, you’re going to have to move to let me fix up Natsume’s hair, it’s making
me feel quite ill to see it in such a state.”
“I’m doing a fine job, I know what he likes!”
“I don’t care what it looks like if Lord Rei is petting me,” Natsume contently
says.
“See? Listen to this good child,” Rei says fondly.
“I’m not moving,” Mika firmly says, latching more tightly to Shu’s waist. “Nuh
uh. But yeah, by choice. Everyone keeps makin’ excuses for him but I don’t
trust ‘em ‘cause he’s fucking the Emperor and bein’ real sympathetic to
everythin’ that comes out of his mouth.”
“Well.” Shu raises his eyebrows, casting Rei a look. “Certainly throws a bit of
a wrench into your plans, my lord. Unless you do fancy being the eternal king
of this entire country after all. Natsume, kitten, you had something important
to say as well, didn’t you?”
Natsume nods, forcing himself to sit up no matter how he’d much rather remain
hunched over and petted all day. “I…had a terrible dream,” he softly says. It
takes effort to make the words come, but he has to. “I saw the Emperor kill
Tsumugi.”
Rei pauses, falling silent for a moment at that. “That certainly is a terrible
dream,” he says. “Anything else?”
“Just…things that have happened. The Emperor finding us. Having the prince
again, and again…” Natsume’s face flushes, and he shakes his head. “Mika
helping us escape. Even some of the smells have been the same, like throughout
the whole capital, flowers everywhere…” He pauses. “Is Lord Wataru here?”
“Yes. Still recovering.”
Mika looks tense and unhappy at this, but Natsume just looks relieved. “Good. I
saw him, too. I miss him. But…I wish that wasn’t true, in a way. I wanted
something to be different and wrong.”
“He’s asked for you,” Shu offers, stroking through Mika’s hair, moving down to
press carefully on his joints, starting with neck and shoulders, releasing
pressure. “Wataru. He’s asked us to bring you to him upon your return, but feel
free to take your time. He deserves to wait.”
“I want to see him,” Natsume insists, looking back at Rei. “I want to talk to
him. Maybe—with all of us, we can figure out a way to change things around. He
can do something, he’s the Emperor’s bonded.”
“We’ll talk about it more later,” Rei reassures him, and climbs to his feet to
get the door before it’s even knocked upon. Koga scowls at them all, and shoves
a tray into Rei’s hands.
“I’m not your maid, you old fart—“
“No, but you’re such a good doggy, aren’t you?” Rei hums, ruffling Koga’s hair
thoroughly after setting the tray of tea and cakes down. Natsume doesn’t
hesitate to snatch one up. “Check in with High Harbor for me.”
Koga frowns, then nods, and leaves with a quick, curt bow of his head to
everyone else present. “There, we’re going to check on Tsumugi.” Rei drops back
down, leaning back. “I don’t suppose either of you have any idea about the
Emperor’s whereabouts now?”
“Nope,” Mika says softly, slowly starting to relax again underneath Shu’s
careful touching.
“Unfortunately, we still don’t know what he can do,” Shu admits. “He shows off
so rarely. Even Wataru and that absolute imbecile in the dungeons haven’t been
able to help us narrow down his true powers. He might need to take a horse, but
he might just vanish in one place and reappear in another. Mika, lie down while
I do maintenance, you can fall asleep if you need to.”
“Don’t wanna fall asleep,” Mika grumbles, but he complies, forcibly untangling
himself from Shu to flop down with an uneven sigh. “I wanted to beat him up,”
he crossly adds. “But there were people around, and then the prince went to him
instead of coming with us, and we had to leave him behind. Izumi was so upset…”
“This sounds like quite a confrontation,” Shu murmurs, fingers darting along
pressure points with surgical precision. “I can hear--did you fight him, Mika?
Your magic, he’s tainted bits of it, as if you were in contact with him.”
“Maaaybe.” Mika sags down with a pleased little sound, his eyelashes
fluttering. “I laid out a lot of cat’s cradle around the prince ‘cause I ain’t
stupid enough to leave him to his own devices like everyone else. And then I
caught the Emperor in it because fuck him.”
Rei lets out a snort of disbelief. “Challenging Eichi directly in combat…you’ve
more balls than most. Good job, little bird, I hope he’s shaken.”
“Nn. Wish I could’ve gotten a trace on him of any kind…but at least the
Faerie’s good for that, right?”
“He must be quite weak, I can feel bits of him on your magic.” Shu combs his
hands above Mika’s shoulder, then lets violet fire burn the excess bits away.
“You did very well, I’m certain that you scared him senseless. Wataru was quite
forthcoming about how much difficulty they’ve both been in.”
“Good. To hell with them.”
“Is Lord Wataru all right?” Natsume asks, his brow furrowing. “I know after you
ripped his wings away…”
“He’ll be fine. Injury has…at least made him open his mouth a bit more. We’ve
discovered some interesting things about him,” Rei diplomatically answers,
picking up his cup of tea. “Namely, the nature of his bond with Eichi.”
“Rei, please don’t spoil it. Wataru did so wish to make the grand reveal
himself,” Shu chides. “That sort of thing is all he really lives for, these
days.”
“I don’t know how that’s something to live for, it’s disturbing,” Rei sniffs.
“Albeit convenient for us.”
Natsume looks between both Rei and Shu, then climbs to his feet, brushing
crumbs off of his dress. “I want to go talk to him, right now.”
“Not gettin’ up,” Mika grunts, turning his head to the side to stuff it into a
cushion more thoroughly. “Don’t care. I wanted to run off to the North, to
where there are warmin’ stones…”
“He’s in the high tower to the left of the King’s audience chamber,” Shu says,
waving a hand. “Highest room. It used to be the wizard’s tower, but we’ve
redubbed it the Birdcage. He seems to like it quite a bit.”
“I’ll find him. But why haven’t you installed proper portals to places around
here yet? In High Harbor, I could just hit something with a hammer, and—“
Rei spreads his hands sympathetically, nearly pouring his tea into his lap in
the process. “Whoops. This is why I’m not usually up during daylight hours. But
I know, I know. A construction flaw, blame human engineering.”
Natsume huffs. “Also, later, a lady’s proper shoes. I can’t believe you’re
making me run around a palace like some kind of a hick.”
Mika makes a grumpy noise, pulling his hair back into his face. “He’s too much
for me,” he mutters. “Cute, but so much, like a real noble lady. Master, I’m
tired.” 
“Go, kitten,” Shu urges, tucking Mika back onto his lap. “I have my hands full,
and you’re disturbing his sleep. You aren’t the only small creature who needs
to curl up someplace warm. Rei, didn’t you see the shoes that match the gown in
the dresser? I told you I should have done it...”
“You were preoccupied, love, and—oh, the kitty’s gone,” Rei mildly says,
watching Natsume flee without another word. “I’ll never understand cats. Dogs,
those are the best.”
It turns out, palaces are much larger than estate manors—but that doesn’t deter
Natsume, not when he has a plan.
Finding Wataru takes more time than he’d like to admit, after getting turned
around a couple of times, and being generally too stubborn to ask for
directions. To be fair, anyone that he runs into seems to avoid him outright,
or if it’s a man, their gaze lingers for too long, which is unsettling after
the easy-going respect he’s used to from High Harbor when he’s dressed properly
like a woman.
Eventually, when he reaches the tower, it’s a relief. The door is unlocked, but
there’s a  spiraling web of magic around the entire area that he can feel the
second he touches the door. You can come in, you can come out, but Wataru
can’t.
“…Lord Wataru?” The door creaks open, and Natsume peers inside warily. The
scenery, unfortunately, matches up exactly with his vision, which makes his
heart sink. No mater how he tries to pull away from that prophecy, it just
keeps lining up.
“Natsume?” The voice sounds weary, but delighted, perhaps even relieved.
“Amazing! Come up, little one, come up, I have a bird for you to meet. There
are a great many stairs, of course, but the view is unparalleled!”
Natsume quickly picks up his skirts to take the stairs faster—which there are,
indeed, a great many of. “I’m not here to meet a bird,” he calls up in protest.
“I’m here to see you. Ah, this is too many stairs, who would want to live
here?”
Wataru stands in the middle of his birdcage, an opulent chamber filled with
glittering cages, most of which stand open to let the birds in and out as they
wish. He’s smiling, but his eyes are creased more deeply than usual at the
edges, and he holds his arms outstretched. “Come and hug me, it’s been far too
long since I’ve been able to remember your face. Ah! You look amazing!”
Natsume nearly trips over himself to get to Wataru quickly enough, and launches
himself into his chest, clinging to him with all the strength in his arms. His
vision swims for a moment—there’s too much surrounding Wataru, not in the
physical sense, but in the sense of…what will be, what hasn’t quite happened
yet, and it makes his mind blur at the edges for a moment as he tries to drag
himself back to the present. It’s strange as much as it is familiar to feel
that again after so long, and Natsume rocks back with a shiver, finally letting
himself stare up at Wataru’s face. “If Lord Rei’s not being nice to you, I’ll
beat him up myself,” he very seriously says.
“My champion,” Wataru declares, eyes twinkling as he crushes Natsume in a hug.
Then he winces, releasing him as he reaches for an elegant golden cane, using
it to walk over to one of his perches. His Nightcloak is draped over a chair,
and he currently wears a simple white shirt and trousers, the shirt sheer
enough to show many layers of bandages around his back. “Ah, I’d forgotten how
fierce you are. My apologies, little one, that I had to lock up my memories of
you for so long. I couldn’t think of any other way to keep you safe.”
Natsume trails after him immediately, resisting the urge to latch onto Wataru’s
arm. “It doesn’t matter,” he unhappily says, fiddling with a ruffle on his
dress. “The Emperor found out about me anyway. He came to the West, where I
was, and saw me. I…I’m sorry. You and Rei did so much to keep me hidden and
safe, and still…”
“It was never forever,” Wataru says gently, stroking Natsume’s hair. “Nothing
is. All I wanted to do was ensure that you grew up to be, well, this! A bright,
talented, intuitive, amazing young person with all the flair in the world, and
look at you!”
“Lord Shu says the Emperor wants to lock me in a cage and only feed me enough
to give him prophecies. It’s not like he’ll like all of them,” Natsume insists,
butting up into Wataru’s touch. “So what’s the point of that?” His eyes flicker
away to the thick layer of bandages, and he worries at his lower lip. “…I’ve
been trying to find out a way to get your wings back, but no one wants to tell
me.”
“Then I’ll be a penguin for a while,” Wataru says with a laugh. “Perhaps I’ll
learn to be the world’s best swimmer, eh? Don’t worry about me, little one. The
Emperor may have his eye on you, but I’ll never allow anyone to bring you to
harm while there’s breath in my lungs.”
“…What if he kills someone else important to me?”
Natsume looks around for a place to sit that doesn’t currently have a fluttery
bird on it, finds nothing, and decides that standing is still his best bet.
“How do you stop a prophecy from coming true?” he forthrightly asks, staring up
at Wataru intently. “If anyone knows, you know. And you’ll tell me. Lord Rei
won’t say anything, neither will Lord Shu, and I don’t like that.”
“Stop it from being possible,” Wataru says immediately. He gestures, and a sofa
appears, seemingly from midair, though the air beneath it is suspiciously free
of bird droppings. He sits carefully on the cushions, with just a bit of a
wince. “The future is changeable, of course! Find something, even something
small, in your vision, and change it. Our universe is one of chaos, little cat,
and anything may happen! Of course, in changing it, something worse may easily
happen.”
“I don’t know what could be worse,” Natsume admits, gingerly dropping down next
to Wataru and smoothing out his skirts. “In the vision, he kills Tsumugi.”
Every time he says those words, it feels more real, and dread drops into the
pit of his stomach. “And it’s happening so fast—every time I try to change
something, it’s already happened. This, for example,” he says, gesturing to the
room. “I’m already here. I thought I had more time.”
“Hm.” Wataru cocks his head, looking around the room. “That cage over there--
was it open? Standing just so?”
Natsume’s eyes narrow. “Yes? I think so?”
Wataru stands with a grunt, then picks up the empty cage, turns it upside down,
and smashes it to the ground. A few birds nearby bate and flutter, but the
casual destruction seems to be nothing terribly new. “Not anymore! Your vision
is wrong, now.”
“I…suppose?” Natsume hedges, blinking back at him wide-eyed. “But is something
like that really enough? I mean, I suppose no one knows that for sure,” he
adds, answering his own question with a sigh. “I thought about trying to
contact him, to warn him personally, but something in my gut says that’s what I
was supposed to do, so I’m not. Can you…can you contact the Emperor?” It’s a
longshot, but he has to ask. He’s wanted to for days. “Tell him I’ll read the
future for him, if that’s what he wants—so long as he doesn’t kill Tsumugi.”
“You know that isn’t what he wants,” Wataru says softly, reaching out to touch
Natsume’s hair. “Even I can’t see what’s in his heart, but...I will ask him, if
you want me to. Please be certain, before I contact him. It will summon the
Emperor here, eventually, to take what he wants from you, but I cannot
guarantee his response.”
“What do you mean, even you can’t see what’s in his heart?” Natsume protests,
leaning up into the touch, grabbing at the front of Wataru’s shirt. “You’re
bonded to him, aren’t you? If anyone knows him, it’s you, and you have
to—Tsumugi hasn’t done anything and he doesn’t deserve to die now!”
“Oh, did Rei not tell you? I’m not bonded to him. Well, I am! But look at me,
little one. Really look at that bond.” Wataru extends his hand, palm-up. “Go
on. As hard as you can.”
Natsume stares back at him warily for a moment before he takes Wataru’s hand,
not entirely sure of what he’ll find. Reading Wataru’s palm is one thing, but
searching for the bond that he expects to find immediately is peculiar. That
glowing, golden cord creaks underneath his touch, making him jerk back the
moment he finds it, laced around Wataru’s fingers, looped about his neck,
shimmering into a field of view that only he can see in the strangest of ways.
“It’s…” His fingers trace the similarly looped line of Wataru’s palm, his eyes
unfocusing. “It’s tied around you. It’s…mechanical?”
“Your face! Amazing! Ah, no one has ever been able to see it before.” Wataru
brings his hand back, folding it with his other, trembling slightly. “It’s
almost a relief. Yes, yes, he decided after my predecessor that he was unable
to bond to a human after all. So he changed me. Very intelligent, don’t you
think?”
“Horrifying,” Natsume whispers, blinking hard to make his eyes focus back on
the world only humans can see again, which is easier said than done, knowing
what’s there. “What’s the point? I thought bonds were supposed to be like…like
what Lord Rei and Lord Shu have. Why would he change you if it’s nothing like
that at all? Can you even sense him, and what he’s feeling? Does it even feel
any different when you touch him?”
Wataru reaches out a hand, and a dove alights on his finger, where he strokes
its feathers, then scritches its crest. “It feels electric,” he says, a tiny
shiver going through his finger. “Like lightning. I hear his voice when he
wants me to, and he hears mine. When he touches me, when I want to feel him,
it’s...like lightning, through my veins, instead of blood. It hurts. But it is
unlike anything I’ve ever felt before, which is amazing at my age!”
“That sounds bad,” Natsume bluntly says, frowning, his hands dropping to his
hips. “So does that mean you’re not really in love with him or anything? Isn’t
that what bonds are supposed to be?If this is fake, then…” After all of the
things Shu has told him, it’s almost impossible for him to understand why
anyone would ever want to be in the Emperor’s presence, let alone lovehim, let
alone have something binding themselves to him like Wataru has.
“I love him, in my way, I suppose,” Wataru says with a sigh. “And I think he
loves me in his. He was willing to go through all this trouble, wasn’t he? And
I am...fascinated by him. But I’ve always warned him, of course.” His eyes
glitter suddenly, making him look far less human than any half-blood. “That I
would be loyal to him as long as he never took his eyes off of me.”
Natsume’s breath hitches, but he refuses to flinch back. Instead, he
tentatively reaches forward, curling his fingers slowly around the tail end of
Wataru’s hair. “And…he did?” he ventures quietly. “Didn’t he? With the prince.”
“They tell me one cannot choose to whom one forges a resonant bond,” Wataru
says, letting the bird walk over his fingers, his smile frozen on his face.
“Eichi spent decades trying to tell me that was not the case. Then he proved it
true. I suppose he cannot be faulted for being human. But I will fault him for
it anyway.”
“Come here, my little songbird.”
 Natsume shivers, and clutches more tightly at Wataru’s hair. “Then…you’ll side
with us,” he presses, stepping closer. “You’ll help. You know all there is to
know about him, don’t you? You can help us—help me, I just want Tsumugi safe.”
He blinks hard, startled at the abrupt sting of tears in his eyes. “Lord
Wataru, you have to. Then Lord Rei can have the Academy, the prince can have
this stupid throne, you can be my teacher again.”
Wataru sighs, and the bird flutters away. “I suppose. That might teach him a
lesson, I suppose. Don’t cry, don’t cry, I don’t understand why you’re doing
that. What would you like me to say to him? Our bond is degrading rather
quickly, I don’t think your Tsumugi’s way of killing Eichi will even work.”
“I…I don’t know what to say to him,” Natsume admits, glancing aside. “I don’t
know what makes him the way he is, or why he’s doing this. I don’t even know
why he’d want to kill Tsumugi—he didn’t do anything, at least, not recently,
and he’s been doing his best to stay out of this, I know.” He hesitates,
twisting Wataru’s hair in his fingers. “Except…he…wanted to kill you, didn’t
he. That’s how he would’ve tried to kill the Emperor. Tell the Emperor he won’t
do that, tell him I won’t let him.”
“He wasn’t going to kill me. That wouldn’t work on someone like Eichi, little
one.” Wataru looks at Natsume, as if he wants to reach out, but doesn’t quite
understand what a normal person would do. “A half-blood likely wouldn’t die, if
their bonded were to die. Oh, they might, but unless the bond were quite
strong, they’d likely just...well.” Wataru’s smile fades completely. “I believe
Tsumugi thinks that the only way to kill Eichi is if I were to kill myself,
knowing it would kill him. But he doesn’t know the truth about our bond.”
“…I see. Well, don’t do that either. You’re not allowed to.” Natsume huffs up
at him, frustrated. “Then tell me—how do you kill him? I can’t think of a way
to reason with him, and…there doesn’t seem to be a way, anyway. Before you say
it, the prince isn’t allowed to kill himself either, not if everything else is
going to work out.”
Wataru laughs, spreading his arms wide. “I haven’t the faintest idea! Isn’t it
amazing to have so many things that are unknown?”
“Not when someone I care about could die!” Natsume eyes well with tears, and he
releases Wataru’s hair before brushing past him abruptly, storming back towards
the stairs. “I should’ve known you couldn’t understand, you’re the same way he
is!”
The door slams, the sound echoing from its frame, only to open a few moments
later with a far lighter knock preluding it. “Here to clean up after you and
your terrible birds, Milord,” comes the weary voice of a short, average blond
boy. “Did you scare off that pretty girl? You should be ashamed of yourself,
it’s not like anyone else wants to visit you.”
“Quite right, Tomoya, quite right,” Wataru says sadly, leaping up to sit in the
windowsill. “Come closer, boy, tell me more about how horrific I am. Would you
like me to get you a dress like that? You would look so much less terribly
ordinary.”
“You know, Milord, that’s not exactly a compliment? Ugh…why do I even bother
trying to explain it to you,” Tomoya grouses, starting about the task of
scrubbing bird droppings off of every damned surface. “Instead of being rude,
you could, I don’t know, try to stop being so…the way you are.”
“How does one stop being the way one is?” Wataru asks, trilling with amusement.
“What an adorable child you are!”
“By making an attempt? What kind of question is that, you lunatic?” Tomoya
growls, pushing his bangs out of his face. “This is why you have no friends,
and why the friends you’ve got lock you up in a tower.”
“So cruel, yet so accurate. Come here, come here, I think you’ve missed a spot.
And you wouldn’t want it reported to your dear employer that you’ve gotten
sloppy, would you?” Wataru gestures at a large splat on the floor near his
lounging sofa, eyes twinkling.
“You don’t deserve a pretty girlfriend, you deserve to be pushed out of this
tower,” Tomoya mutters, bending down to scrub at the spot in question. “When do
you get to leave? Soon, I hope.”
“So eager to come with me? Don’t worry, little Tomoya. I’ll never let you leave
my sight--I mean, employ!” Wataru laughs. It’s so much easier to put on his
mask when this boy is around.
“Please don’t flatter yourself, Milord. I’m not interested in going anywhere
with you.” Tomoya looks up at him tiredly. “But honestly, when can I expect
that you’ll be set free? Everyone’s been talking around the palace today,
something about the prince and him defecting? Does that mean they’re going to
let you go, now that you’ve fooled everyone into thinking you’re innocent and
harmless?”
Wataru’s face falls into a scowl. “You’re spoiling everything, you know. I’m
quite harmless! And as innocent as the driven snow, though one must be warned
that the driven snow can give you quite a bit of frostbite, unless you’re
careful.”
“And that’s the problem, isn’t it. Learn to behave yourself properly and be a
part of normal society already,” Tomoya scolds, straightening up. “How long’s
it been since you’ve acted like a normal human? If you’re no longer following
the Emperor around, you’re going to need to figure it out.”
“Nonsense, just because he’s left his broken-winged faerie behind like a wadded
up dishrag doesn’t mean he isn’t returning for me,” Wataru says, with all the
enthusiasm he can muster. “What about you, boy? What are your dreams?”
“None of your business. Certainly none of your business if you keep talking
like a traitor,” Tomoya says with a sniff, and grabs his bucket, moving to the
other side of the room. “As harmless as frostbite, indeed.”
“Traitor? I’ve been loyal my whole life, Tomoya. To my Emperor. Why should that
be any less valid than someone else’s loyalty?”
“He’s not really the Emperor anymore, is he?” Tomoya wearily points out. “So I
guess even calling him that is wrong and a little bit traitorous.”
Wataru raises an eyebrow, then reaches out lightning-fast, grabbing the boy’s
arm and dragging him close. “Ahh, you’re only seeing me at my weakest, but in
my prime, my lad...I would have fetched you from the other side of the room,
all the better to drag you to my side.”
“Did you just…did you just dislocate your entire arm to grab me?” Tomoya asks,
his voice a little shrill as his face flushes dark red. “W-w-what do you even
mean by that, how about don’t? You, ah, this is highly, um, inappropriate, you
know—“
Well, that certainly makes Wataru feel quite energetic. The boy’s little
struggles make his arm tighten, if anything, and he beams, dragging Tomoya into
his lap. “Ah, but you think I’m a traitor, so what could I do that is possibly
appropriate? Perhaps I should be truly dastardly, don’t you think?”
“No—no, that’s fine, thank you!” Tomoya squeaks, flailing to get away, and
subsequently failing as he’s pulled right into Wataru’s lap. This close to him,
it’s impossible not to continuously blush. Oh, gods, he’s so beautiful, help
me. “Um! Milord, would you—ah—please let me go?”
“Ah...no thank you!” Wataru says cheerily, wrapping a strong arm around
Tomoya’s waist, hooking his chin over Tomoya’s shoulder to purr in his ear.
“Besides...you don’t truly want me to let you go, do you, boy?”
“W-why are you doing this all of a sudden?” Tomoya barely manages to whisper
out, his eyes as wide as saucers. He can’t answer that, absolutely not.
“I—you—y-you’re like a goddess, you can’t…possibly…”
“A goddess? Is that what you want me to be? Ah--one moment--how embarrassing,
it’s never taken me a moment to do this before, but I’ve never been quite so
wounded before--”
Without letting go of Tomoya, Wataru ripples, then shivers, changing, his form
shifting until he sits begowned in a dress reaching down past his feet,
glittering with gems studded into the fabric, his hair coming free from its
braids to wrap itself up in a high bun. “This sort of a goddess, my boy?”
Tomoya squeaks. “I…I mean…t-technically, but—I think you look like a goddess
all the time!” He tries to squirm away, but Wataru is so weirdly strong. “If I
tell you that you don’t need to do anything special, will you please let me go?
I—you’re very troubling whenever you do strange things like this, you know!”
“But letting you go would be doing something special!” Wataru crows, but he
finally lets go, folding his hands behind his head. “Go on, then. I’ve had my
fun, you can scurry away and tell everyone the terrifying creature in the tower
had his way with you, and you barely escaped with your virtue.”
“I’m going to say just that!” Tomoya bolts away, snatching up his bucket and
trying not to look so obviously flustered. “You know, if you want someone to be
nice to you, don’t be so…so extra. Just be normal! Ugh, I know all wizards
aren’t like this, but you’re the worst of the bunch!”
“Yes, thank you, I’m quite the worst,” Wataru says, dropping back onto the
couch, closing his eyes and trying not to see lightning. “Leave the hooded
falcon in his cage, please. Ah...perhaps I will keep the dress, for the
moment.”
Tomoya huffs at him. “I’ll see you when I bring up your dinner, I guess,” he
mumbles, and promptly slams the door shut behind himself, sending half a dozen
birds fluttering.
***** Chapter 47 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
Getting out of the Palace is easy. Arashi just walks out, shoulders squared,
head held high.
Getting back in should be just as easy. But with the state of his face and the
bundle he’s concealing with one arm under his cloak, he has a hell of a time
getting past the guards. Instead, he scales one wall, dropping down into the
courtyard, pressing himself back against the walls, staying in the shadows
whenever anyone happens by. The bundle, tucked against his side and feeling
heavier every minute, doesn’t help.
Finally, he knocks on Izumi’s door with a few heavy knocks. “I really hope this
is you, darling,” he calls softly. “I need your fancy skills, please.”
Barely a moment passes before the lock on the door clicks open, and Izumi
cracks it open, confirming visually that it’s Arashi before he opens the door
further. “You look like a bloody mess,” he says, though the flutters of anxiety
start to fade just with Arashi’s presence. It’s so much more difficult being
here than he thought it would be, and he already thought it would be difficult,
especially when he’s made a firm vow with himself to not run outside of the
city again to see his mother and cry on her shoulder. “Come inside, let me fix
you. Mika hasn’t seen you looking like this, has he?”
“No, no, I just came to see you right away.” Arashi grins through bloody teeth,
then pulls back his cloak, revealing a skinny, silver-haired toddler, who
blinks up at Izumi, then reaches for him with grubby, blood-streaked hands. “I
had trouble finding all of them,” Arashi says quietly. “They’ve gone
underground. But then I saw her.”
Izumi’s mouth goes dry. “Oh. Shit.”
Instinct makes him grab for her, plucking her right out of Arashi’s arms.
“Where…where did you find her? Who’s is she? I…I know Lady Karn died during
childbirth, but the other two…”
“Hennessy.” Arashi raises a hand to his face, wincing when it stings, coming
into contact with the slashes and bruises on his face. “Fix me up, please, I
look so ugly. Ugh, that man does not fight fair, he said he’d duel me, then
kicked me to his guards.” He nods at the little girl. “Found her with a rag in
her hands, wiping shoes in front of Hennessy’s entryway. She can’t be more than
three. I think I scared her, with my face like this.”
A sudden, low-burning spike of anger makes Izumi move fast, and he switches the
girl to his other arm before catching Arashi’s chin between careful, but still
trembling fingers. The bruises and cuts on Arashi’s face heal perhaps too
quickly, and Izumi pulls his hand away, sucking in a deep, calming breath. It
doesn’t help. “I hope,” he slowly says, cradling her to his shoulder, stroking
a hand against her hair, “that you gutted him and made him eat his own shit-
stained intestines before he died.”
“Wow, that made my head spin,” Arashi murmurs, eyes glazing slightly. “Ah, I
didn’t get that technical about it, but I absolutely did kill him damn good.
Sorry, only one down, but I thought getting her somewhere safe should take
priority. Tell the nice man your name, darling.”
The little girl blinks up, then slowly fists a hand in Izumi’s shirt. “Elia,”
she whispers, then hides her face, letting her hair fall in front of her eyes.
Izumi almost curses again, but that’s probably not the sort of thing one should
do around children. Maybe. He doesn’t know, but his heart clenches a little,
and he sucks in another slow breath as he looks back up at Arashi. “Thank you,”
he quietly says. “Thank you, so much. Sorry, I didn’t mean to rush everything,
do you need anything else fixed?”
“My arm. They didn’t get it, I pulled it out climbing the wall to get out of
questions about her.” He holds it up, wincing, shoulder puffed up to twice its
normal size. “Worth it, but ouch.”
“I could kiss you right now,” Izumi says with a hoarse laugh, and reaches out,
much more gentle in his pace this time as his fingers curl around Arashi’s
upper arm. “See, Elia, this here is what we like to call a man of honor up in
the North,” he mutters.
Slowly, the little girl reaches up, brow furrowed as she reaches for Izumi’s
hair.
Arashi sighs, gratefully rotating his shoulder. “Loads better, thanks. Remind
me never to get rid of you. Ah, yes, sweetheart, see his hair? Look familiar?”
“You gotta put it up,” she whispers. “Not ‘lowed.”
“No, to hell with that.” There’s that biting anger again, and Izumi forces
himself to shove it down. Scaring his own kid isn’t allowed. “Whoever told you
that was wrong. Lord Hennessy—he’s wrong.” Izumi swallows, and drops back down
onto the foot of his bed, setting her in his lap, and gently pushes the uncut
mess of her hair out of her face. “I’m your Papa now, so you don’t ever have to
listen to him again.”
“I don’t, don’t have any Papa,” she says, starting to squirm in his arms. “I
gotta get my rag, I’m s’posed to have my rag...”
“No, love, no—look, our hair’s the same, right? Look.” Izumi gently pulls her
back, dragging his ponytail over his shoulder, letting it match up to hers
exactly. “That’s how you know I’m your Papa. And…and you don’t need that rag,
you’re a lady, just like your Mama.” He looks briefly back up to Arashi,
stressed and obviously at a loss. “Was her mother anywhere to be found? Not
that I should care, if she let her be treated like that. Gods, if the other two
have been living like this…”
The little girl stops struggling, but reaches up for his hair again, turning it
over and over in her grubby fingers, as if unable to believe it’s real.
“Her mother left to live with family in the country,” Arashi says softly. “Or
so the servants told me. I get the feeling it was more about being sent away
than leaving, but I didn’t meet the lady.”
“Madame Karla gives me food,” Elia says, winding silver hair around one finger,
“but she’s not my Mama. Mamas is for ladies. I got a rag.”
“You’re a lady,” Izumi tells her firmly, climbing to his feet and pulling more
of his hair over his shoulder for her to hold onto as he picks her up again. “A
lady of the North. And you’re going to be a pretty, sweet-smelling lady of the
North starting now. Gods, who around here likes children, I know absolutely
nothing and I need to go hunting for the other two, right now, but I can’t just
leave her…”
“Mika,” Arashi says immediately. “We’ll go together, you’re not taking off
without me.”
“Do you think he’d mind me dropping her off with him?” Izumi asks, chewing on
his lower lip. “You don’t have to come out with me. You just got back in. I…I
just have to do something, I knew it would be bad, but I thought for some
reason—I don’t know. Gods, I’m an idiot.”
“Yeah, these assholes with you in their hands? No thanks? Ah, sorry for cursing
in front of Milady.”
Elia doesn’t seem to care, nestling forward against Izumi’s chest, clutching at
his shirt as if it’s her new rag.
“Anyway. Come on, follow me, I’ll take you to him.” Arashi smiles fondly. “He
loves kids, always has sweets in his pockets for them.”
“Thank you,” Izumi murmurs again, stopping only to grab his sword at the door
and one-handedly buckle it to his hip before following at Arashi’s heels. “Of
course he loves kids,” he has to joke, needing to dissipate some of his own
tension. “Between you and him, I’ve got two perfect ladies to marry.”
“We’re about to have three children,” Arashi says cheerfully, tossing back the
hood of his cloak, leading the way. “I should certainly hope you’ll be willing
to provide for both of your wives.”
Izumi nearly trips over his own feet. “You know, there’s a huge difference
between hearing it and actually having one of them in my arms,” he says with a
nervous laugh. “If I’m smart, I hand them to my mother before she leaves for
the North. Or at least, the ones I can find…”
“Izumi of the Northern Sena house,” Arashi snaps, “you did not enlist me to
help you steal children that you’re going to pawn off on someone! Welcome to
fatherhood, brat. I’m sure your mother will tell you the same.”
“No, no, you’re misunderstanding!” Izumi protests, quickening his pace to walk
alongside Arashi. “I’m talking about for their safety—gods, they’re just
targets here, that’s all I meant! If I wanted to skip fatherhood, I wouldn’t be
hunting for them in the first place, honestly.”
Arashi huffs. “All right. I really thought you were trying to fob them off, and
I was about to box your ears. Here, this is him.” He waves to a guard, who
nods, then lets him through. “Mika! Darling! I have something to show you!”
“Nnh?” Mika looks up from where he’s sprawled on his stomach, feet kicked up
behind him as he works on his first sewing project in months—and it’s
definitely a snog, Izumi observes wearily. What the fuck. “No way. You’ve got a
mini-Izumi!”
“Her name’s Elia,” Izumi introduces, anxiety heavy in his words as he gently
shifts her around in his arms. “Elia, this is Mika.”
Mika bites off the thread from his needle and stabs it into his pincushion
before sitting up and reaching out for her. “Aren’t you the prettiest thing?
Jus’ like your Papa. Big blue eyes, too, you’re gonna be a charmer.”
Elia opens her mouth, then shuts it and looks down at the ground, fumbling for
her skirt as if to curtsy. “Yessir,” she whispers, looking down at her toes.
“Be gentle with her, amaka,” Arashi says quietly. “Like you would a child from
your homeland, though I don’t think...”
Mika slides off of his sofa onto the floor, and flutters a hand for Izumi to
set Elia down onto her feet. Reluctantly, Izumi does so, and Mika fumbles into
the pocket of his robes, pulling out a couple of pieces of candy, just as
Arashi said he would. “Here, wanna share? It’s not the fancy stuff, that it
messes with my tummy, but it’s still good.”
Elia puts a hand to her mouth, then giggles. “You said tummy. Like a kid!”
“We’re going to go,” Arashi says, nudging Izumi’s shoulder. “She might have
some S - I - S - T - E - R - S we have to go find.” He frowns. “Wait. You can
read in Common, right? I never asked."
Mika rolls his eyes. “Like Master would put up with me if I couldn’t,” he dryly
says, popping a piece of candy into his mouth and then unwrapping one for Elia.
“Go on, we’re gonna have some fun and learn about snogs.”
Izumi hesitates, glued to the spot for a moment before he lets himself be
nudged along by Arashi. “Gods, I’m in debt to both of you for the rest of my
life,” he bemoans. “Even if she’s going to grow up to be a snog-lover.”
“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Arashi assures him. “At least she won’t grow up
to be one of those useless court ladies that screams and jumps on a table if
they see a mouse or a spider. I mean, she’ll probably be the kind that scoops
it up and names it Melvin, so take what you can get.”
“Sounds like the kinds of girls I grew up with,” Izumi wryly admits, and
fiddles with his cloak for a moment before giving into the urge to pull his
hood over his head. “There’s still a lot of the same staff around here,” he
says, the humor dropping from his voice. “I’m sure Rei thoroughly checked them
out, but I still just…don’t know who’s on who’s side. I heard Duke Rohan
escaped as well, so all Rei really has in that dungeon is the king himself, and
whoever decided to disagree with him when he showed up.”
“So we’re looking for Blake, Haskett, Rains, and Wynne, right? Which ones have
the kids?”
“Karn and Rains. Leo already killed Lord Karn, and his wife has been dead, so I
haven’t the slightest clue what they’ve done with the kid by now,” Izumi
wearily admits. “And I had an affair with her for years. Maybe they tried to
pass her off as legitimate at this point to keep the house? I honestly don’t
know what Capital nobles do to preserve their lines when their men can’t get it
up except with pretty boys. No offense intended.”
“No idea, I didn’t grow up a noble. I mostly hang out with soldiers, you know,”
Arashi points out. “I don’t even know where Rains lives. Or did you want to go
by Karn’s place first and whack around his guardsmen until they give us an
answer?”
The mere idea of going near that house makes Izumi break into a cold sweat, but
he forces himself to nod. “I’m never going to get over it until I do, I guess,”
he says with a forced laugh. “And he’s dead. Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that
part out loud. Just reminding myself.”
“I’m never going to make you do it,” Arashi says with a shrug. “I said I’d do
it myself, you’re the one who’s tagging along. If anything, you’re just here to
hold babies while I get myself on the most wanted list.”
“You’re fucking the Demon Queen’s…whatever Mika is, you’ll never be on the most
wanted list,” Izumi points out. “I know you said you’d do it, I know—I
just—didn’t expect the visceral reaction of wanting to gut anyone that’s ever
been mean to my kids. That’s all.”
“But that’s so cute, it’s like you’re a real person with feelings and
everything. Let’s go steal some more kids, huh?” Arashi offers, and links his
arm through Izumi’s. “Where are we off to first? Rains, or Karn?”
“Shut up,” Izumi politely tells him, even as he knocks his head briefly against
Arashi’s shoulder. “Karn. Let’s get the worst over with first, so I can maybe
get some of these nerves out of my system.”
“You know where it is, I assume?” Along with a convenient window to climb
through.
“Like I went there yesterday,” Izumi says wearily. “Let’s go do this before I
run away crying.”
“Lead the way. I’ve got your back.”
***** Chapter 48 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
The one saving grace about his bastards is that they’re all unmistakably his,
even in the case of the Karn girl, with a very expensive wig tossed over her
natural hair.
It’s a sick sort of relief to see her being taken care of. With both of her
parents dead, she’s the lady of the house, with a tutor and nanny at her side
calling her Milady. The idea of pulling her out of that situation, where she’s
already being raised by people that aren’t her parents, and tossed into another
one with less money, less prestige… “Forget it,” Izumi murmurs, already
starting back down the window trellis that he scaled countless times just years
prior. “I can’t do that to her.” Maybe later, if anything changes.
The Rains household, however, is different. He has his own legitimate children,
which he’s taken into hiding, and he himself and his lady are also gone without
a trace. Roughing up their guards and staff does little, until one of the
lady’s attendants—one left behind, and obviously annoyed about it—sneaks her
way over to Izumi after the fact.
“She was tossed onto the streets, Milord, about six months ago—one of the
Capital orphanages picked her up, on the west side, I think? But I don’t know
much more than that.”
It’s not much, but it’s something. “Thank you,” Izumi says, and politely avoids
the grab at his laces that she tries to pull before they leave.
“I don’t even know where to start,” he groans, tilting his head back to stare
skyward as they ride back. “Why are noblemen such scum? What if she’s dead, or
turned into a prostitute to survive, or—gods know what? And children aside, how
do we flush those rats out of hiding—that’s only two dead, and now they’re
probably talking and know I’m here.”
“Even the bad orphanages in the Capital don’t sell them to brothels at that
age,” Arashi assures him. “And if they know you’re here, good. They’ll all be
terrified--two of them are dead, and you’re cozy with the Demon King, and
they’ll never see me coming. Let them piss themselves for a while. Ah...you,
boy!”
An urchin perks up, eyes tracking immediately down to Arashi’s coinpurse,
dangling from his belt. “Milord?”
“How many orphanages in the West side?”
“Five,” the boy says promptly.
“How many would scoop children off the streets?”
“Ah...just th’ two, Milord. You lookin’ for a girl, or a boy?”
“Girl.”
“You want Patsa’s. I can shows you, if you make it worth me while.”
Arashi raises an eyebrow at Izumi, then pulls a silver noble out of his purse.
“Make it quick, his horse is hungry.”
Skeptical as he is, Izumi follows. “You ever seen so many flower vendors in
your life?” he wryly comments, shaking his head. The entire city resembles
something of a garden now, which, if nothing else, has to be doing wonders for
morale and convincing citizens that the Demon King is something of a positive
presence in their lives.
The orphanage in question doesn’t exactly give him a warm, fuzzy feeling when
they reach it, what with its high, boarded windows and the general look of a
building that hasn’t been scrubbed down in years. Izumi exhales a sigh, and
slides off of his horse, passing Vale’s reins to Arashi. “I’ll go in and ask
about her,” he says. “Just wait out here.”
Inside, Patsa takes one look at him, and he doesn’t even have to explain a
single word. “That silver-haired hellbeast? To hell with her ungrateful little
arse! You her sire?” the old woman snaps, hands on her hips.
“I—well—“
“She decided it would be fun to toss her scrawny little butt out of the
windows! Why do you think they’re all boarded up now? Good riddance to that
demon creature, I’ve done as good by her as I can! Catch her running with one
of those little beggar gangs, you’ll see them, you’ll know!
Izumi wipes his hands down his face as he leaves, hauling himself back onto
Vale’s back. “My daughter apparently likes to throw herself out of windows for
fun.”
Arashi’s face goes pale. “She’s dead?”
“Nope. Apparently, that’s why the windows are boarded up. She kept doing it.”
“What the fuck? Oh. She’s really yours, huh?”
The boy from earlier pops up, hungry eyes darting back to Arashi’s purse.
“Milord? If you wanted to buy one, Patsa’s no good. They won’t sell ‘em until
they bleed. You want a lil one, right?”
Arashi’s lip curls, and for the first time, he understands why some nobles
whack street children out of the way. “I’m not here to buy a child,” he spits.
“My horse is a demon steed from the North, you want me to let him eat you?”
Izumi deadpans, but he pulls a coin from his own purse all the same. “Have you
seen a girl with hair the same color as mine?” Vale lurches against his reins,
teeth gnashing against his bit. He’s just trying to get at the weeds next to
the side of the road, but it’s still a scary display, Izumi knows. “Don’t lie
or I’ll let him taste you.”
The boy’s eyes widen, but he feigns nonchalance, flipping Arashi’s coin in the
air, moving to the other side of Neigh. “Maybe I has. Maybe I hasn’t. Ain’t a
lie if I just sorta...forgot, right?”
“Two nobles.”
“Yep, I seen her,” the boy says suddenly, all smiles again. “For three I can
take the fine gentlemen to her, too. Four an’ I can put in a good word with the
bloke what owns her.”
“We both know a noble is more than your little gang will see in a year,” Arashi
says with a sigh. “Don’t get greedy or we’ll sniff her out ourselves and you’ll
get nothing. Or my friend’s horse will eat you.”
“Horses don’t eat folk.”
“He’s a demon from the North--”
“Three nobles, I’ll take you both to her and talk to her boss.”
Arashi growls a little, but nods. “She can’t be, what, more than six? What kind
of boss could she have?”
Nonetheless, the boy sets off down the street, and Arashi hurries to keep up.
“How ambitious do you think I was?” Izumi asks, horrified as he follows after
as well. “I haven’t even had my nineteenth birthday, you ass! Gods, I can’t
believe this. She’s either a prostitute or in a gang, she has a boss—“
“I really thought this kind of thing was mostly in the Sandlands,” Arashi
admits, looking down each grimy alleyway as if afraid to see amputees next.
“And not for nothing, thirteen isn’t too young to marry and have children in
the West, it’s part of why I ran away. You told me you were lifting skirts at
eleven.”
“Yes, but I’m pretty sure I can remember when I fucked a lady,” Izumi hisses.
“And in the Capital, it’s unseemly to have children when you’re so young, so I
was trying to curb my hick blood a bit by pulling out most of the time! Ugh, I
didn’t even know these parts of the Capital existed. Do you ever realize how
good you’ve got it?”
“I’ll never forget how good I have it after the Sandlands,” Arashi says
gloomily. “Whatever may have happened to her, at least she’s alive, and she’s
not down there.”
The idea of anything happening to his children along the lines of what happened
to Mika makes Izumi’s blood run cold. “People are sick,” he mutters. “And this
is taking forever.” Paranoia suddenly grips him, irrational and vice-tight,
making a pit swiftly form in his stomach and his hand go to his sword, needing
a reminder that it’s there. “What if he’s leading us into a trap? What if he
works for any of those men?”
“Fortunately,” Arashi says, raising his voice slightly, “we’re both dangerous
soldiers with hundreds of kills to our name, and supernaturally unkillable.
He’d have to be very stupid to lead us into a trap.”
The boy looks back at him, then winks. “Just up here, Milords. You want I
should get the boss first?”
“Sure, I’m feeling generous.”
The boy whistles, a few staccato bursts. A few seconds later, a slightly older
boy, probably fifteen or so, saunters out of a nearby alcove, hands in the
pockets of a very nice coat layered over tattered trousers. He gives Arashi and
Izumi a little bow. His face is clean, and his eyes are glittering black under
the brim of what is unmistakably a nobleman’s hat, for all that it’s too big
for him. “Milords...no, Captain, yes? And...Lord Izumi, I think?”
“Well, don’t you think you’re hot shit,” Izumi mutters, frowning at the kid as
he pulls Vale to a stop. It’s obnoxious that every single time he hears his
name in the Capital now that his heart starts pounding in an entirely
unpleasant way. What do they know about me? What have they been talking about?
“You’re their boss, then? I have a question for you.”
“Ask away,” the boy offers, doffing his hat, revealing well-groomed hair swept
back in a tie. “But keep civil. You may be lords, but ‘round here, I’m the
king, eh?”
“Sure. It’s a simple question, fortunately.” Izumi pulls his ponytail around
onto his shoulder. “A girl with hair like this. I’m looking for her.”
The boy nods slowly, looking up at Izumi’s hair. “I know her. What’s she worth
to you?”
“Bring her to me in good condition, and we can talk about that.”
“Your daughter?” the boy asks, arching an eyebrow. “Or little sister? Either
way, I don’t make a habit of lettin’ my people go to those that’s thrown ‘em on
the street and left ‘em to orphanages. How’m I s’posed to know you’re gonna do
right by the chit, Milord?”
“I’ve been away at war, and my name wasn’t exactly a favorable one in the
Capital while I was away, Your Majesty,” Izumi says through grinding teeth.
“I’ve only just been able to return, and that’s why I’m seeking her out now. If
you’re so concerned, then wouldn’t you rather her raised like a noble lady than
a little shit on the streets?”
“He wants money,” Arashi says with a roll of his eyes. “Don’t you?”
The boy inspects his fingernails. “Gotta make sure she’s bein’ taken care of by
someone as is willin’ to part with somethin’ fancy for her, eh?”
“Every man’s the goddamn same at the end of the day,” Izumi crossly says,
unfastening his coin purse and dangling the whole of it. “Show her to me
first.”
The boy bows, then disappears into the shadows. All is quiet for a moment.
Then, he re-emerges, holding the hand of a young girl that comes barely up to
his waist, with close-cropped hair caked with dirt and Izumi’s sharp
cheekbones. Though her hair is filthy, the rest of her is clean, though her
shoes are too-large and her slip of a dress is patched in multiple places. She
looks up at the boy holding her hand, and when he nods, she gives Izumi a
cheeky little curtsy. Absently, she reaches up and scratches behind her ear,
and a bit of dirt flakes away, revealing a short patch of silver below. Then
she scowls up at the boy, pointing at the horse. “That’s too big! That’s,
that’s a big horse, I need a little one, you said I was going on a horse!”
Apparently, that feeling of seeing one’s children for the first time doesn’t
really stop hurting him. Izumi slides off of Vale’s back, numbly tossing his
coin purse to the boy, and kneels down to the girl’s height. “He’s a Northern
horse, one fit for a proper lady,” he softly say. Vale, thankfully, decides to
be an angel for once, and lowers his head, whickering lowly, sniffing in the
girl’s direction. “What’s your name?”
She looks up at the boy, who doesn’t bother looking down at her, letting go of
her hand to count the coins with ever-widening eyes. She raises an hand to
Vale, unafraid, and touches him on the nose. “Kinsley,” she says, deliberately,
as if she’s had problems with the S sound herself in the past. At least the man
seems nice, kneeling down to talk to her. And if he isn’t, well, she’s thrown
herself out of windows before. Every place has a window.
But...
She reaches up, brow furrowed, to gently finger the end of Izumi’s ponytail.
Then she looks up at his face, and demands, “Can you do it too?”
“Yes.” Izumi shifts, pulling a dagger from his boot, and holds out his hand for
her to see how fast the line in his palm heals when he draws the dagger across
it. Nowadays, it’s so stupidly fast that it starts closing up almost before it
bleeds. “I heard you’ve tossed yourself out of a lot of windows. Doesn’t that
hurt?”
Kinsley nods, touching his palm, eyes alight. “Hurts,” she agrees. “But not
s’much as staying. I hate locked doors. And I’m strong.”
“Fair enough.” Izumi tucks his dagger away again, and wipes the blood off of
his hand before offering it to her. “If you come with me, you can have your own
horse. I know this one’s really big, but he’s still fun to ride in the
meantime.”
“I got a choice?” she asks, eyes wide as if this is the first time.
“I mean,” Izumi exhales, “I’d like for you to come with me. But I’m not going
to force you, if you like it here so much.” Izumi gingerly reaches over,
brushing off some of the caked on dirt from her hair. “A proper Northern lady
starts making her own decisions by the time she’s three, and sleeps in the bed
of her own mistakes if they’re no good.”
Kinsley looks around, as if someone is going to catch her exposed hair, then
clenches her jaw. “I want a big horse. This one is good. Can I have it?”
Arashi snorts. “She’s yours, all right.”
“Is that true?” she demands. “Maj’sty said you’re my father. But girls that’s
got fathers don’t go to Patsa’s.”
Izumi grimaces, and takes her hand as he climbs to his feet. “I’m your father,”
he confirms, “and I’ve been away. But I’m back now, and you can have a big
horse, but not this one. You don’t want him, he’s stupid. Have you ever ridden
before?”
She shakes her head, and a few more flakes of mud fall to the ground. She steps
on one of them with distaste. “But I’m not afraid of fallin’. Do you have a
house?”
“Mm, up in the North. Here, up we go.”
He hoists Kinsley up into the saddle—too easily, she weighs nothing—and pulls
himself up behind her, picking up Vale’s reins. “But we’re staying in the
Capital for right now, in the palace. Gods, your grandma’s going to think
you’re delightful.”
“I been to the palace before,” she says smugly, squirming in the saddle to get
comfortable. “Me’n Toddy took soap an’ three roast chickens on Midwinter. I put
‘em in a bag an’ fell out the window.”
“No more falling out of windows,” Izumi wearily says, steadying her back
against his chest. “Let’s get out of here, Arashi, I’ve felt too many emotions
for one day.”
“You think you should tell her about, ah, the S - I - S - T - E - R at the
palace?” Arashi asks, hoping little weird four-year-old children don’t know how
to spell.
Kinsley snuggles back against Izumi’s chest, rubbing her dirty hair on his
shirt, making more of the mud flake off. “If you’re my father...who’s my
mother?” she asks, paying no attention to Arashi.
“I’m getting there,” Izumi grouses at him, and starts one-handedly picking some
of the mud off of her. “Your mother’s a noble lady that got sent away,” he
says. “So she’s not here anymore. You’ve got a sister, too, Elia. No one was
nice to her when I was away, either, but that’s not going to happen again.”
“A big sister?” she demands, twisting in the saddle. “Or a little sister?”
“A little sister. So that means you’ll have to be sweet to her, she’s a lot
more shy than you.”
Kinsley nods slowly, and folds her arms over her chest against the cold. “I’m
gonna keep her safe, then,” she decides. “Can she do it too?”
“I’m not sure.” Izumi pulls his cloak around her, sheltering her from the wind.
“You know most people can’t, right?” he gently presses. “You’ve got to be
careful about who you tell.”
“Only told you ‘cause of the hair,” she grumbles. “I’m smart. Mag’sty and the
gang, they just think I’m smart at gettin’ out of places. Don’t no one know.”
“Good girl.” Izumi gives her a light squeeze. “So you want a big horse like
this, huh? Do you want to see how fast he can go?”
Kinsley’s eyes light up, and she reaches out to touch Vale’s mane, fingers
gentle in the thick strands. “Yeah,” she says fervently.
“She’s going to be as bad as you,” Arashi says fondly.
“Thank the gods,” Izumi sighs, snugly tightening his arm about Kinsley’s waist.
“You think I’m dashing, now you’ve got twice that to deal with,” he says with a
bat of his eyelashes to Arashi, and spurs Vale forward with barely a nudge of
his heel, setting off to the palace at full speed.
“At least I’m going to be immune to this one!” Arashi calls, following after.
He doesn’t push it, though, and lets Izumi and his daughter ride ahead,
catching up once they’re leaving Vale with stablehands, handing Neigh off to
another stableboy. “You want to take her for a wash before she meets her
sister?”
“I’m clean!” Kinsley insists. “It’s just my hair that’s messy. An’ short. It
grows real fast, I shave it but it’s gotta stay hid.”
“Who told you to hide your hair, Milady?”
Kinsley looks around, then blinks, as if realizing that she is the Milady to
whom he’s speaking. “Mag’sty. Says I’m too easy to find. A, um, a not-remember
thief is an old thief.”
“Well, now you’re not a thief, and you don’t have to hide your hair,” Izumi
says, picking out another piece of dirt as he wrinkles his nose. “So we’re
going to wash this mess out of it. You don’t see me hiding mine, do you? It’s
too pretty, better to show it off.”
“Because I’m gonna be a lady?” she asks skeptically. She looks down at her
dress, then up at him accusingly. “The folks in the Palace...no one’s gonna
believe I’m a Milady if I got a dress like this.”
“No, you show it off because you’re lovely and everyone should know it,” Izumi
sniffs, and takes her hand again. “You’ll have plenty of pretty dresses soon,”
he reassures her. “They’ll believe you just because of your hair now, though.
Just like how the royal line in the Capital has all that orange hair—the
Northern line’s silver now, I suppose…just come over here to the trough, this
won’t take any time.”
“It better be cold,” she mutters. “I hate hot baths. Patsa’s always put us in
hot water baths and scrubbed til we were red.”
“Arashi, are you hearing this? You really are mine. In the North, all the baths
are cold.” Izumi kneels down next to the trough, pulling her over. “The rest of
you’s clean, just dunk your head and I’ll scrub it all out. Then we’ll see
about getting you a pretty dress and a good meal, hmm?”
Kinsley nods, then immediately submerges her head, blowing out through her nose
as her short hair sloughs the mud off, easily coming free under Izumi’s hands
scrubbing. When it’s all gone, she bursts out, eyes bulging like a fish,
shaking her head out like a dog. “I been North of Capstwain Street, all the way
up to the wall,” she says proudly.
“Really. Well, I think you’d like the proper North more. The capital’s only
good for cute boys and pretty girls. Even their horses are ugly.” Izumi towels
her head off with his own cloak, ruffling her hair into a semblance of order
once he’s done. It shines as brilliantly silver as his own, and he pats her
cheek as he climbs to his feet. “Come on, then. Ah, I hope Mika hasn’t gotten
annoyed, we’ve been gone for awhile.”
“I have a feeling,” Arashi muses, watching the girl tag along after Izumi as if
she’s been chosen to become Princess of the World, “that he isn’t going to be
annoyed.”
When they open the doors to Mika’s chambers, Arashi sneezes at the sheer amount
of flowers clustered around. Elia stands in the middle of Rei, Shu, and Mika,
Shu’s hands moving swiftly on a needle and thread, piecing together what looks
like a tiny cupcake gown with at least four layers of ruffles. Elia’s hands
move too, in a clapping game with Mika as Rei sings the chant. “Sorry to
interrupt,” Arashi calls. “But we brought the little princess a playmate.”
Mika looks up, beaming. “Hi, kara,” he cheerfully greets, finishing the last
couple of claps without looking. “I’m stealin’ this one, sorry!”
It’s one thing for Mika to love children, but entirely unexpected for both Shu
and Rei to both be in on this. Izumi blinks, startled. “Um—“
“Oh, good, you’ve found the other one,” Rei lightly says, offering Kinsley an
easy smile. “We were starting to fight over Lady Elia here.”
“Geez, that one looks even more like you,” Mika adds, tilting his head as he
looks at Kinsley, and then he blinks hard, having to look away as his eyes
water. “Ah, wow, ouch.”
“What do you mean, ‘ouch’?” Izumi shortly demands, a hand on Kinsley’s
shoulder.
“Nothin’, nothin’, forget it, what’s her name?”
“Kinsley,” Kinsley says, eyes wide as saucers, taking in the sights all around
her. Then she sets her eyes on Elia, and beams. “Are you my little sister?”
Elia immediately scoots back against Mika for comfort.
“It’s okay,” Kinsley assures her, rubbing a hand over her scrubby short hair.
“We’ve got the same hair, right?”
Slowly, Elia nods.
“I think my heart grew six or seven sizes,” Arashi remarks, then kneels next to
Mika, and whispers as low as possible, “Something wrong with her hourglass,
amaka?”
“Izumi, make us one,” Shu commands, only partly joking. “Elia is delightful,
this is our new princess.”
Mika waves a dismissive hand, and promptly kisses the side of Elia’s head, and
her now own neatly combed, perfectly clean head of silver hair. “Big sisters
take care of little ones,” he tells her. “And you’re both gonna be ladies now,
so won’t that be fun? Mm, ’s nice to meet you, Kinsley. I’m Mika.” If he
doesn’t look at her for too long, his eyes only ache a little.
“I didn’t realize you all had such baby fever,” Izumi sighs, collapsing down
onto the floor in a weary heap next to Mika.
“Wizards are sterile,” Rei reminds him, leaning back in his chair. “And your
children are adorable. It’s sort of a given. Shu and I decorated their room.”
“Here, little one, try this on.”
Under Shu’s hands, Elia suddenly transforms into a proper cupcake, wearing the
dress in the very height of Capital fashion. She looks down at herself, then
bursts into tears, burying her face in Shu’s knee.
“Overstimulated,” Shu says with a sigh, as Kinsley starts petting her little
sister’s hair. “She’s had a very big day. Izumi, you’ve prepared rooms and
servants for them, have you not? I’m joking, ha! Rei handled all of that while
you were out.”
“Before you thank me, consider that I want to steal your children,” Rei
blithely says, and leans over to absently tuck a few flowers into Elia’s hair.
“There, there, love, you look lovely, don’t you? A real princess. Lady Kinsley,
let Shu here take your measurements and he’ll make you a dress as well.”
Obnoxiously, Izumi feels his own eyes prick with tears, and he looks away with
a sniffle muffled into his hand. “Thank you,” he manages, trying not to burst
into tears much like his own daughter. “I’m not…entirely certain I’d be able to
do any of this without you all.”
“Crybaby,” Mika teases, pulling on Izumi’s ponytail. “Don’t worry about it,
like Rei said, we all like kids and they’re sooo cute.”
“You provided us with two princesses to spoil,” Shu adds, wiping away Elia’s
last tears as she laughs, turning to take Kinsley’s measurements. “Ah, this is
just like that book I used to read Mika when he was a child. What was the name
of it, The Unlucky Little Lady?”
“That’s exactly how it is! Ahh, I can tell that story by heart. Once, in a land
far, far away, there was a little girl, living without a single doll to her
name~…”
Rei leans over, tapping Izumi’s shoulder to make him glance up. “I’ve asked
your mother to come here by the week’s end, before she heads for the North,” he
says. “So you can decide how you’d like to deal with that. Of course, your
children are welcome here, but I understand with the precariousness of the
situation if you’d rather they not stay.”
“Thank you,” Izumi sniffs, wiping gingerly at his eyes. “Though I don’t
particularly listening to my mother scold me again, thank you. Ahh, gods, I
don’t know what I’m doing anymore, I haven’t the slightest clue what to even do
from here…”
“I’d offer you the Kingsguard, but it seems as though Shu’s friend is still
rather attached to it, and loyal enough,” Rei mildly says. “And I think he even
still wants to fight you. I’m not sure what your prince said about you, but
apparently, there was a lot of boasting involved.”
“Excellent.” The reply is a sarcastic one. “I’ll keep that much in mind.”
“What of the prince, then, Majesty?” Arashi asks lightly, pulling back to let
Shu and Mika play with the little girls, Shu sewing, Mika telling his story.
“Please don’t take this as a vote of disloyalty, but he remains my prince, you
know. I’ve fought and killed for him for years, now, and I still support him.”
“I’ve sent out a number of hunters with no results so far,” Rei admits, tucking
his hair back behind his ears. Next to his right foot, a sprout pops up through
the floorboards, and he idly prods it back down with a bare toe. “Eichi has a
great ability to remain hidden, as it were. Even my power has difficulty with
such things at times, and he’ll use that to his advantage as long as he can. I
have men aware of the possible situation at High Harbor, so if he decides to
surface there with the prince, we’re prepared.”
Izumi’s lips press into a thin line, and Rei spreads his hands open. “I have no
issue handing this throne back to him. Consider me a placeholder—I know where
my talents lie, and it’s not in governing a kingdom like this. The Academy,
however, is my right. I’ll see it run by my hand or I’ll die, both Shu and I
have come to this resolve. If he tries to bring Eichi back and insist upon his
rule over the Academy…then we’ll be having words.”
“Why are you so certain he’ll try to keep bringing the Emperor back?” Izumi
quietly asks, his stare intent. “He’s fucked him, not married him. The
Emperor’s got a lover, and you’ve got him in a tower. Use that.”
Rei’s lips part, and his expression shifts wry. “Troubling, all of that.”
“I don’t know exactly what rumors have been floating around,” Arashi says, with
a frown both towards Izumi and Rei, “but from where I was standing, Leo
absolutely only went with him because the alternative was the Emperor killing
the rest of us. Like you said, he’s fucked him, not married him. And I’m no
politician, but I’ve listened to the prince speak a lot. I guarantee, he wants
to see what you’d do with the throne, Majesty. All he wants is what’s best for
his people. Honestly, Izumi, it should be you sticking up for him, not me.”
“I’ve been sticking up for him for years. I’m tired of saying the same thing
over and over to people that keep acting like they know better than me. I’ve
even had to say it to you, Arashi, and I’m sick of it. I’d rather just go
chasing him down myself and bring him back here than have to defend him all
over again.” 
Izumi climbs to his feet, dusting himself off. Rei watches him, head tilted.
“Sit back down.”
“No, thanks—“
“I want to believe in your prince, too, but when resonant bonds come into play,
there’s not much say he’s got in it.”
Izumi stops, his stare wary, and Rei’s eyebrows raise. “You can chase him down
all you like, and he can want me here or in charge of the Academy or what have
you all he wants, but bonded compulsions aren’t always kind. Ask Shu, if you
don’t want to take my word for it. Maybe he went with the Emperor to protect
all of you, but it could also be killing two birds with one stone. It’s very
satisfying, to finally give into a very basic urge, and it eventually becomes
very addictive.”
“Bullshit,” Arashi whispers in growing horror. “Bullshit, people can’t see them
over distances like that--not even the Emperor, he said me and Izumi are
bonded, but we’re not. Leo--he couldn’t--there’s no way a guy like that would
fall in love with a monster like that. You’ve met him. You know.”
“It’s not always a matter of love, Captain,” Rei says softly. “Bonds have
little to do with that. Shu and I are extremely lucky, but others are far from
it. Either way, all I know is that Eichi’s bond is not with Wataru as we all
previously thought, and Natsume has informed me of how clearly he can see the
resonance between Eichi and the prince. I have no reason to assume otherwise.”
He pauses, brows furrowing. “Did he honestly say you two are bonded? He was
trying to stir something up, wasn’t he, what a prick.”
Izumi feels himself grow colder and colder with every single word, until his
hands tremble, and he has to fold his arms across his chest, fingers biting
into his own arms to stop them from shaking. “This is bullshit,” he whispers,
shaking his head. “There’s no way. He wouldn’t—“
“There’s no choice in it.” Rei’s voice is apologetic. “I’m sorry. I really,
truly am.”
“Fuck. Fuck, fuck--sorry, I hope they didn’t hear that.”
Arashi scrubs his hands over his face, leaving a couple of smudges at the
corners of his eyes. “Right, silver lining. Natsume’s scared Eichi is going to
kill Tsumugi, because Tsumugi knows how to kill him. But, well, now we fucking-
-sorry--now we can’t kill him, because it would kill the prince, so he has no
more reason to kill Tsumugi. Right?”
“Eichi’s history with Tsumugi…it runs beyond the fact that Tsumugi knows how to
kill him. So, he might still do it, who knows? I don’t claim to know how Eichi
thinks, he’s a complete lunatic. But otherwise, yes, you’re correct, we are, as
you so eloquently put it,” Rei dryly says, shrugging, “fucked.”
Izumi sucks in a breath as if he’s about to say something, then shuts his mouth
instead, and turns on his heel, stalking from the room without another word.
“That was bound to happen,” Rei exhales, shutting his eyes as he flops
backwards. “This is so unfortunate. I really liked the prince, I want to make
that clear.”
“Then don’t put that in the past tense,” Arashi snaps. “And rule his kingdom
well until he gets back.” He looks down at his hands, dismayed to see that
they’ve clenched into fists. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to yell. I’m going to go hit a
wall. Have fun with the kids.”
“Before you destroy something, take your time to remind Lord Izumi of what he
had to do to bring you back to life after Eichi backhanded you once,” Rei
sharply calls after him. “So that he doesn’t run off to do something careless!
Sorry, sorry, ignore us, we’re just old men yelling,” he hums, turning back to
the little sewing party going on. “Ahh, Shu, that dress is looking lovely, your
talents are unmatched.”
Arashi tears through the halls, easily catching up to Izumi with the speed of
his long legs. “Hey,” he calls, trotting up to his side. “Oi. Bring me if
you’re going to do something stupid,” he says, completely ignoring Rei’s
advice. “Best chance of you walking away to give those little princesses a
father.”
Izumi stops short, staring up at Arashi with red-rimmed eyes. “The hell am I
going to do that will fix this?” he hoarsely asks, fighting back tears with
every word. “I can’t even kill that asshole. I would’ve, too, I would’ve run
out and cut off his smug goddamned head—gods, I was going to go and try to kill
him before, if you hadn’t stopped me, Leo—fuck, he could’ve died. How was I
supposed to know about this shit?”
“How’s anyone?” Arashi demands, pushing Izumi back against the wall to ground
him, stopping him from taking off. “Maybe he doesn’t even know! So, what? What
the hell are we going to do?”
“Natsume knew! He fucking knew, from the second he had that dream, and he
didn’t tell me—“ Izumi’s chest heaves. His lower lip trembles. “Gods, I teased
him about how much he got off with that motherfucker last time—no wonder he was
so into it, I’m gonna be sick.”
“It’s not his fault,” Arashi whispers, though his own fists are clenching. “You
heard the Demon King, you can’t control it--fuck, he probably had no control
over what the Emperor was doing to him, no wonder he kept trying to think up
ways to solve it.”
“I know it’s not his fault, I’m not blaming him, I just—“
His heart thuds too loud, and that sick feeling persists. Izumi swallows,
shutting his eyes as he slumps back against the wall. “I don’t know what to do.
If this is all true—“ He has to say it like that, because he still can’t
believe it, not really, even if all the facts point to it being as Rei says.
“Then…fuck. What can I even do? Even if I rode out right now and snatched him
away, wouldn’t the Emperor follow him? Wouldn’t he know where to find him? And
what if…what if that just hurt him more? I saw how Shu was every damned day
that he was away from Rei, I…I can’t think about this right now.”
“Let’s get drunk. Or play with babies, I know a guy with two cute little
daughters that need to learn bad habits,” Arashi suggests, grabbing Izumi by
the collar and yanking him close, as if he can squeeze the shock, horror, and
deep sorrow out of Izumi. “Come on, you can’t think about this, there’s nothing
you can do, whether it’s true or not.”
Izumi lurches forward, grabbing tightly to Arashi, stuffing his face into his
neck. “He already thinks that I’m taken by someone else, so he probably doesn’t
see any reason to run away,” he whispers. “This fucking sucks. Kiss me so I
shut up, make me stop thinking about it, I’ll start crying around my kids again
and that’s too pathetic.”
Arashi grabs Izumi’s face, taking him in a brutal kiss, plundering his mouth,
backing him up against the wall. He doesn’t stop for breath, doesn’t let up
even when he’s sure Izumi can’t breathe, when anyone normal would try to pull
away. “This what you need?” he grunts, hands wandering down to his hips,
yanking him up, pressing him hard against the stone wall. “You want me? I won’t
let you think about anything else, darling, I promise you that.”
Izumi’s nails gratefully bite into Arashi’s back, clinging to him, gripping
tightly. He arches up even when he can’t breathe, straining against the vice-
tight grip on his hips, and he breathes the same air Arashi does, sucking in a
ragged inhale against his mouth. “Don’t talk, just fuck me,” he begs. “Not
here, though, fuck the capital.”
“Yeah, I don’t want to die,” Arashi breathes, pulling back only far enough to
toss Izumi over his shoulder. “Don’t tell everyone in the West that I’m strong
enough to do this kind of thing, yeah? I wanna keep my cute mystique going on
back there.” He sets the pace for Izumi’s rooms, going in the direction he’s
pretty sure is the right one. “Ugh, the Palace is so big, what’s the point of
all these?”
“So it’s impossible to find anyone important,” Izumi grunts, dangling over
Arashi’s shoulder, very content to be manhandled. Maybe that makes him a less
than responsible parent right now, but fuck it, he has three very willing
babysitters that want to steal his kids, anyway. “Turn left, third down down,
that’s me.”
Arashi nearly skips down the hallway, opening the latch on the door, then
shutting it behind him, tossing his captive onto the bed. He doesn’t exactly
feel in the mood for love, but Izumi obviously needs him desperately, and fuck
it, he’s a good friend. “Take off your clothes and tell me what you want.”
Izumi sucks in a slow breath. Instead of doing that, he rolls over onto his
back, grabbing for Arashi, pulling him down. “Just come here,” he whispers,
burying his face into Arashi’s neck. “Sorry. Just kiss me or something, I want
you to fuck me but only if you really want to take your frustration out on
someone, that kind of thing.”
Arashi kneels over Izumi, kissing him deeply, stroking his hair. “You’re all
right,” he whispers. “I’m here. Close your eyes, tell me what you want, I’ll
take care of you. Sorry I’m so slow to rise.”
A shuddering exhale escapes from Izumi’s lips, and he lifts his hands, dragging
them back through Arashi’s hair. “You,” he quietly says, shutting his eyes.
“Just…you. You’re good and you feel good and you don’t make my head hurt and
I’m really sick of everything else, but not you.”
Arashi’s eyes sting, and he blinks, a little taken aback. “Stop it,” he
mutters, looking away as he blinks more, cheeks flushing. “You’re making me mad
that we didn’t all run away after all.”
“Yeah, same, but I’m glad I came back for those kids.” Izumi lurches up,
kissing him again, drawing it out with a long, lingering suck on Arashi’s
tongue. “Sorry I’m like this,” he murmurs. “Makes it easier for me to think, I
don’t know why—take your shirt off so I can touch you, you’re warm.”
Without showing any of the reluctance he feels, Arashi pulls back, stripping
off his shirt. “They’re worth it, huh? Elia’s cute, Kinsley seems as bad as
you.”
“I’d feel like shit if I had run off and left them here.” Izumi’s eyes lid and
he drags his hands down Arashi’s back, feeling the flex of muscles underneath
his touch. “Maybe I should just go back North,” he mutters. “What’s left for me
here? If he’s really…gods, I can’t even say it still.”
Arashi pulls back, frowning. “You’d still love him, though, right? You’d still
be his friend? I mean, I guess it’s none of my business. I just hope I can pry
Mika away from Shu, heh.”
“I don’t expect you to come with me.”
There’s a lump in Izumi’s throat, and he drops his hands, turning his head to
the side. “You’re a lord in your own right, you don’t have to follow me
anywhere. It’s…not like you’re my lover or anything, just my best friend.
You’re Mika’s, not mine.” The words catch up in his throat, and the onslaught
of tears that he’d been trying to keep back prick into his eyes again. “I d-
don’t even know how I could possibly even talk to him without wanting to rip
off the Emperor’s head,” he whispers. “Which would fucking kill him, so—no, I
don’t think I could be his fucking friend.”
Arashi stares at Izumi for a moment, hearing nothing but the thud of his heart.
Then, he picks Izumi up by the throat, and calmly slams him down to the bed as
if he were no more than a rag doll. He stands, eyes blazing as he towers over
him. “After the time we’ve spent together,” he says, voice quavering. “After
the--the hundreds of times I’ve been inside you. And you’ve held me. And I’ve
held you. And I’ve told you I love you, and you’ve saved my life, and--you’re
saying you’ve got no claim on me? That I’m not your lover? Fuck you, fine, go
on, break my heart and Mika’s too.”
Izumi hisses out a breath, recoiling into a ball. His head swims, but he forces
himself up onto an elbow, vision blurring. “Fuck you, that’s not what I
meant—Arashi, listen to me, don’t just be mad!”
He lurches forward off the bed, grabbing for Arashi’s arm. “I love you,” he
blurts out, his fingers trembling. “But…seriously, I didn’t think…I thought…I
thought it was you and Mika, and I was just…I don’t know, something extra? That
when push came to shove, you two would leave me behind. And I accepted that.”
He bites his lip, glancing down. “It didn’t feel right to call you my lover, or
to say I’ve…got a claim on you, not after how long you fought to be with him,
not me. That’s all I meant. I didn’t want to fuck up anything—because gods, you
two have something good, you know? And I’m pretty good at fucking everything
up.”
A deep breath in, a deep breath out. Arashi slowly breathes again, and nods,
reaching out to muss Izumi’s hair. “Okay. I understand. I get it. But--you’re
wrong. I know where you’re coming from but...gods, you idiot, I love you as
much as I love him, even if I’ve known him for a decade longer. And he loves
you, too, and...I mean, when you had another lover, that’s one thing, but we’d
be fucking happy to have you as...whatever.” He laughs, a little bitterly.
“It’s not like anyone would ever recognize us together anyway. What’s wrong
with making it a little weirder?”
When you had another lover. The words make Izumi feel cold, and weak, and he
releases Arashi’s arm as his fingers go slack. “We’ve already got a man on the
throne that’s wizard-married to another man,” he says with a wet laugh, “so who
even fucking knows what’s going to happen anymore. Gods, I love you so fucking
much, I wish I had met you before him, I wish I had just kept my hands off of
him for a few more months, then I would’ve gotten kicked into your army and
everything would be fine because he never would’ve been with me, he’d be fine
and I wouldn’t be going so goddamn crazy!”
“Fuck him,” Arashi says, suddenly urgent. “Stop it--don’t let--I know it’s not
his fault, but darling, loving someone who’s got a resonant bond, that’s not
going anywhere, and there’s nothing you can do about it, there’s nothing anyone
can do about it. So--it’s bad, it sucks, but fuck that, you’re ours now. And
we’ll--dammit, I’m crying--we’ll raise those pretty little girls, and we’ll
make sure there’s always love around, and I won’t marry for a sham, yeah? One
of them can have your dominance, one can have mine, and they’ll both be
protected.”
Izumi stares back up at him, his eyes wet, and he sinks back onto the bed.
Finally, he just nods, lifting a hand to rub it across the back of his eyes.
“All right,” he whispers. “All right. That…that sounds…doable.” Reasonable,
even, unlike everything else that’s been tossed in front of him recently. “You
don’t have to go back to the West. You can stay in the North, no one gives a
fuck if you kiss Mika or me in public and no one’s going to care if you walk
with your goddamn hips.” He sniffs. “I like your hips.”
Arashi laughs, the sound wet and a bit ragged, and he wipes his eyes. “I’m mad
at you for making me cry. Ugh, it’s not like I care if they even take the West
away from me, I don’t even like it and I’ve only lived at my ‘house’ for about
a month. I love the Army, though.”
“I’m always crying, what’s the big deal anymore?” Izumi mumbles, reaching out
for him again. “They won’t take the West from you, I won’t let them. I’m
important, even if I’m basically the prince of the middle of nowhere. The West
and the North can have one enormous army and no one will ever fuck with us ever
again.”
“That...sounds pretty good,” Arashi admits. “If we expand the area around the
Shadowlands, we’re basically connected already. Hell, between your prestige and
my money, and all that land? We’ll own half the country.”
“I also have the only trading agreement with the Shadowlands that anyone’s had
in…somewhere between hundreds and thousands of years,” Izumi says, shrugging
his shoulders. “Because I saved Ritsu’s boyfriend. Surprise. We can build our
own empire if we wanted.”
“Cool, let’s keep that in mind in case the Demon King is a bad king, eh?”
Arashi tugs Izumi into his lap, then tucks that long silver hair behind his
ears. “I’m bad at emotional stuff when it has to do with me, all right?” he
asks softly, and places a gentle kiss on Izumi’s lips. “But I love you. And so
does Mika.”
“He’s already better than the last one because he’s admitted he doesn’t know
what the fuck he’s doing,” Izumi says with a tired laugh, looping his arms
around Arashi’s neck and lurching up to kiss him again. “I love you so fucking
much,” he mutters. “And if you two leave me, I’ll find a way to kill all of
us.”
“Mm, sounds good. Just start with me, all right?” Arashi asks, tapping the tip
of Izumi’s nose.
“Yeah. Then Mika will help the process along.” Izumi buries his face into
Arashi’s neck. “Now cuddle me.”
“Yes, Milord.”
***** Chapter 49 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
Something is wrong.
Shu always rises early, but this day he rises even before sunrise, a strange
itch under his skin. It’s oppressive, as if the day is hot and muggy, making
him sweat even if he can feel the chill wind whistling past the window.
The bed next to him is empty, but that’s not unusual. Sometimes Rei can’t sleep
until long after dawn. But the same instinct that awakened him urges him to get
up, telling him that this isn’t just late-night prowling.
He finds Rei standing on the second floor above the Eastern courtyard, watching
Arashi and Izumi spar in the courtyard. The strange feeling swirls in the air,
and Shu looks across the courtyard, seeing the silent form of Natsume in his
too-large Nightcloak, also watching. Without knowing why, he looks up, and sees
the outline of a figure in Wataru’s tower, also looking down at the sparring
pair. “All we’re missing is Kanata,” he murmurs, sidling up to Rei. “What’s
wrong? What’s--it’s Izumi, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Rei’s elbows are set upon the railing, his mouth set in a deep frown. He
doesn’t look at Shu, and if anything, he pointedly doesn’t. “I just received a
message from High Harbor.”
“Ah. So that’s where he is.” He can feel it now, the rippling disturbance in
the magical fabric that threads through the world. It always ripples around
Eichi, like a rock pressed against a spiderweb, binding all threads to him. “I
could feel he was doing something. What’s happened?”
“Every single person under my employ there has been taken captive.”
Rei’s long fingers drum against the railing, his nails clicking lightly against
it. “With an odd predicament that Eichi is tormenting me with right now. Well,
not for long, I’ve already made up my mind, but I’m not happy about having to
do this. I’d like for you to know that.”
His fingers still, and before his own gaze—and Shu’s, to a lesser degree,
through their bond—lines and webs of magic filter into view. Some of the more
complicated interwoven structures of shields and related construct are easily
ignored for the more interesting lines—the thick, heavy cord between himself
and Shu, for example—and with others, the tenuous, thinner cord from Izumi,
stretching far, far away into the distance. It looks like fishing line, what
with how stretched thin it is.
Rei draws in a breath, curls a finger, and draws that cord to himself, and
snaps it.
Below, Izumi drops as if he’s been hit to the head, and Rei drops his hand,
heaving a sigh as he closes his eyes. “Eichi threatened to kill the boy he was
bonded to—or to reach through him, and…gods know what. This is kinder.”
Shu stares in growing horror at his bonded. The idea of that bond being
snapped--of having such a central, essential part of his soul ripped out--of
having someone touch it, let alone destroy it--
It makes him sick.
“My lord...did what he felt was best,” he whispers, unable to look Rei in the
eyes. Then he leaps off of the balcony over the railing, landing lightly on his
feet, kneeling over Izumi.
Arashi drops as well, eyes wild, shaking Izumi hard. “Izumi? Izumi! Answer me!”
Izumi’s head lolls, a low, agonized whimper leaving him even before he wakes.
When he does, his eyes flutter open slowly, unfocused, unseeing, but that lasts
for maybe a second before he bolts up, no matter how his head throbs, how his
world spins, trying to get unsteady legs underneath himself. “Where…where is
he?”
“Who?” Arashi demands, climbing to his feet, frowning in concern. “I didn’t
even hit you, why’d you fall?”
“I…I don’t know.” Izumi’s knees buckle again as he blinks hard, his eyes
tearing up when there doesn’t seem a reason for it. Distracted, he’s so
distracted, why can’t he think about anything but—“Yuukun—where is he?”
“Who?”
“Him?” Shu’s voice is startled, and he looks up at Rei on the balcony. “The
blond with the spectacles?”
“He’s in High Harbor, darling, remember? He’s safe.”
On the balcony, Rei lingers for only a moment longer before he turns away,
pulling the  curtains shut behind him.
“No—no, something’s wrong, I can tell something’s wrong!” Izumi’s voice breaks,
uncharacteristically shrill, and his attention whips to Shu, anxiety written
across his face as he grabs at his robes. “There has to be a way to reach
him—wizards can do that, right? Or I’ll ride out there myself, I—“
“Kara, what’s going on?”
All the shouting is more than enough to make Mika nervous, but he slinks
outside all the same after stashing both of Izumi’s children with a servant,
staying a few paces back. “Izumin, what…kara, did you hit him weird or
somethin’?”
“I didn’t hit him at all,” Arashi says, on the verge of hysterical himself.
This is wrong, this is awful, this is why he tries as hard as he can not to
care about people.
“That’s not one of my skills, I can only speak over distances to my bonded,”
Shu explains, laying his hands over Izumi’s, chewing his bottom lip. He has an
idea--it’s awful, it’s a lie, and it’ll certainly come out eventually, but-
- “If this is about your friend Makoto, Rei told me--the Emperor has taken
everyone in High Harbor captive. If that boy was truly your bonded...it’s
possible the Emperor has done something to affect you.”
The tears welling up in Izumi’s eyes spill immediately, and he shakes his head,
trying to claw his way back up to his feet again. “No,no, that’s—I’m not bonded
to him, I’d know that, I’d know!” And in the same breath—“Why wouldn’t Rei tell
all of us that? W-what are we doing here just waiting around, we have to do
something, what if he’s hurt, what if—“
“Fuck me,” Mika mutters, which dissolves into another few choice, grumbling
curses in desert tongue as he turns away, frustration written as clear as day
across his face.
“Izumi,” Shu says sharply, grabbing his sleeve. “This just happened. That’s why
all of us are here, we all felt something. If you want to know--Wataru can see
over long distances, ask him.”
Izumi’s chest heaves, and he stares back at Shu for a moment longer before he
bolts, heading directly towards Wataru’s tower.
“Wait! I wanted Natsu to…check,” Mika weakly says, dropping his hand when Izumi
clearly isn’t interested in hearing him, and a door slams in his wake. He
huffs, fiddling with his sleeves. “He’s never once acted like he was bonded to
that kid,” he whispers. “That can’t be right, it has to be somethin’ else.
Master, did Rei say anythin’ else? The Emperor, he hasn’t…killed anyone, has
he?”
“I don’t know,” Shu admits. “I don’t know much. It’s...I don’t know, it doesn’t
sound right that they were bonded without either of them knowing--”
“That’s not right,” Arashi says suddenly. “Remember, Mika? He used to say that
he heard Makoto’s voice, and he was always thinking about him whenever we...”
“He wasn’t always thinkin’ about him, it was jus’ one time!” Mika’s voice
breaks, and half a dozen patches of flowers about the courtyard go up into
stark violet flame. “This isn’t fair—he’s mine, I didn’t have to share anymore,
this isn’t fair!”
“Shh, amaka, shh, it’s fine,” Arashi says, moving to grab Mika in a hug, but
Shu pushes him to the side, wrapping his arms around Mika.
“Stop it,” he orders, his own violet fire settling on top of Mika’s,
suffocating his smaller flames. “If you’re going to act like a child, I’ll
treat you like I used to when you were a child. Suffering is not a guarantee
that you deserve anything later. You take what you want, and you suffer when
things are bad. Haven’t I taught you that?”
“Things aren’t supposed to be bad anymore!” Mika jerks back, his hands against
Shu’s chest to keep distance between them as he glares up at him with a tear-
streaked face. “Rei promised! I’m sick of sufferin’, it ain’t fair and it ain’t
right, especially with somethin’ like this! I-Izumi’s been tryin’ hard and
every time he starts feelin’ better, shit like this happens, and that’s
bullshit!”
He whirls away, cloak whipping out behind him. “Natsu! Natsu, don’t fuckin’
dive back into your room, I can see you, I’m comin’ up there if you run!”
Natsume warily lingers on his balcony, hesitation in his gaze. “I’m not sure
what you want me to—“
“Does he have a bond?” Mika snaps, staring up at him. “You can tell, don’t give
me that shit about it not bein’ foolproof!”
Natsume falters. The curl of Rei’s fingers remains vivid in his mind, the sharp
snap of a strand binding two people together splitting echoing through him—but
he looks at Shu, and his mouth goes dry. “He…doesn’t,” he manages to say. It’s
not a lie. Not really. “He doesn’t have one, I can’t see one.”
Frustration makes Mika’s face twist, and unable to shake the feeling that
something’s wrong, he turns back to Arashi, stricken. “Kara, let’s go check on
him—I…I can’t go to the Faerie’s tower by myself, but if you come with me…”
Arashi takes Mika’s hand, and nods firmly, setting off for the tower at a dead
run.
Once they’re gone, Shu looks up at Natsume, his stomach heavy and tense. “We
should just tell him that Eichi broke the bond,” he whispers. “He’s done enough
terrible things.”
Natsume bites at his lip, glancing aside. “That’s probably the best idea,” he
softly says, gripping the railing of the balcony. “I don’t mean to question
Lord Rei—I’m sure he knows better in this situation, but it still just seems…”
“I never would have done it,” Shu says quietly. “But I don’t have the
responsibility of the entire country on my shoulders. He felt
himself...justified. I don’t know what else to say about it.”
In the tower, Wataru stands at the bottom of the stairs, eyes gleaming in the
darkness. “Yes?” he asks, looking both of them up and down. “I don’t believe
we’ve met. Amazing, that I can still be surprised!”
We’ve met, you’ve tormented me and you’ve chased us down on multiple occasions,
you stupid birdbrain, Mika bitterly thinks, but he clings to Arashi’s arm,
grateful, for now, that he hasn’t been recognized. “Did Lord Izumi come here to
speak to you?” he asks, barely able to force the words from his tongue. “About
High Harbor.”
“He’s upstairs, of course. I’m weaving him a spell!” Wataru declares, and
starts ascending the stairs, moving as smoothly as if he still had those
gossamer wings. “A far-seeing spell, one he desires, so that he may see with
his own eyes. And what can I do for you, little crow? Oh! Ah, you’re Shu’s
crow, aren’t you? And...” He looks at Arashi, spinning a finger in the air.
“And his...?”
“His lady that doesn’t have time for this right now,” Arashi says shortly,
heading up the stairs after him. “Izumi!”
Mika hisses rather like a cat through his gritted teeth. “Don’t call me that,”
he growls, sprinting ahead up the stairs after Arashi and darting underneath
Wataru’s arm to get away from him and into the tower sooner. “Izumin!”
Izumi, for his part, is curled up on one of the overstuffed chairs in the room,
knees drawn to his chest, his stare listless. The sound of Mika and Arashi’s
voices, however, make his head jerk up, but he barely sways underneath Mika
suddenly tackling and latching onto him. “Mika—“
“You gotta snap out of it, Eichi’s just gotta be fuckin’ with you,” Mika
insists, shaking him again. “Natsu says you don’t have a bond, so it can’t be
that!”
A sort of troubled, hesitant relief passes over Izumi’s face. “Then…what’s
going on with me?” he whispers, grabbing at Mika’s hands. “I haven’t thought
about Yuukun for days, but all of a sudden, he just won’t get out of my head
and I can’t think about anything else, I feel like I’m going mad.”
“Ah...it seems your friends don’t want you to know.” Wataru smiles, resting
back against the wall, no matter that it digs into the deep gashes on his back
that won’t seem to heal. “And I suppose you won’t take information from someone
like me, who has found himself on your opposition’s side from time to time?”
“You know something.” Arashi stares at the strange man, barely resisting the
urge to strangle him. “Tell us.”
“So fearsome! No worries, my dears, I’m entirely captive and at your service,
should you require it.”
Wataru sweeps close, extending a finger, dragging it down Izumi’s chest. “There
is no bond,” he says quietly, “but oh, there is certainly the scar from one
that’s been broken.”
“Don’t touch him,” Mika snarls, teeth bared as he huddles back against Izumi’s
chest, no matter how he trembles over being so thoroughly in Wataru’s
territory. “Whaddya mean, broken? Did Eichi do that? I’ll kill ‘im myself!”
“I’m just stunned you lived through it,” Wataru admits, pulling back with a
sigh, retreating to his windowsill. “Well, little snake? Did you have something
to ask me? Otherwise, take your fearsome protectors and leave me alone.”
Mika remains firmly fastened to Izumi’s arm, making moving difficult, but not
impossible. “I need to know if he’s safe,” Izumi hears himself say before he
can fully process it, still not sure what to believe—no bond, a broken bond,
how, since when—but the compulsion is still there, and he can’t squash it, no
matter how he inwardly begs his mind to shut up, shut up. “Makoto. Please, if
you can see him, just—tell me if he’s alive, tell me that the Emperor hasn’t
done anything to him.”
“Amazing, that you think I can find someone from a simple given name,” Wataru
says, voice weary. “This is a magical seeing, give me a way to find him.
Location, distinctive features--ah, forget it, I’ll just watch Eichi.” As
usual.
He closes his eyes, traveling behind his eyelids. “He has captives. And he’s
traveling. Coming here, I expect. There’s my predecessor, hello, he looks
rather the worse for wear, and a blond Dawncloak, is that the one?”
“Yes, that’s him,” Izumi insistently presses, stepping closer, dragging Mika
with him. “Is he all right? If he isn’t, I’ll—“
“Is the prince with them, too?” If anything can make Izumi snap out of this,
that should do it. At least, Mika hopes so.
“Is the prince the orange one?”
“Yes, he’s the orange one,” Arashi says with a sigh.
Wataru shrugs. “Humans are harder to see. He’s easy, though. I haven’t seen
such a strong bond since Shu and Rei. How unfortunate.” He reaches up, wiping a
tear from his cold cheek. “Your blond seems unconscious. Asleep? Difficult to
tell. They’re in some sort of...cart? Carriage? Something like a moving room,
it’s difficult to keep watching something that moves.”
It’s not the news Mika wants, not at all, and judging by the way Izumi’s face
falls, it’s not what he wants, either. “At least he sounds like he’s…okay,”
Izumi whispers, hit by the sudden, numb realization that not only is Makoto
seemingly out of reach, but Leo is even further away than ever before. “Thank
you. You don’t have to keep watching.”
“Then let’s go,” Mika desperately pleads, pulling on Izumi’s arm. “Kara, pick
him up and help me.”
Arashi does as he’s told, lifting Izumi princess-style. “Come on, then, love,
you’ve got to pull yourself together. Think of the children, hmm? Ah...Mika,
I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he says conversationally as he walks down the
stairs, because what the hell else is he supposed to do? “Is there something in
your tongue we can call him? I don’t want him to feel left out.”
Now, Izumi is too-quiet, having apparently exhausted himself in his fit from
before, and he turns his head into Arashi’s chest, flopping there listlessly.
Mika isn’t sure if he prefers that more or not, and instead, forces himself not
to think about it too much, clinging to Arashi’s sleeve as he follows him down
the stairs. “I dunno, everything’s kinda two-part-y, y’know?” he says with a
weak laugh. “Maybe we should jus’ call him ‘snake’ or somethin’, that’s kinda
cute…I’ll think about it, there’s gotta be somethin’.”
He worries at his lower lip, giving Arashi’s sleeve a gentle tug after another
moment’s thought. “We should just…go. The longer we stay here, the more bad
things seem to keep happenin’. I…don’t know what happened here, but it doesn’t
feel right. If the Emperor broke his bond, that’s…I don’t know how that’s going
to keep affectin’ him, but it can’t be good for him to be here if they’re
headin’ this way.”
“Why can’t I have him?”
Arashi’s voice is a shaky whisper, with a hint of real anger creeping into it.
“I don’t understand. We would be so good to him. I love him--but every time
things start going well, something tortures him! Why? What’s--why does this
keep happening? The prince, the kidnapping, the...whatever this is! I’d take
him and leave now, but I bet he won’t leave that boy behind! Will you?” he
demands, eyes wild, setting Izumi down on his feet to stare at him searchingly.
Izumi wobbles, not expecting to be set down so suddenly, and he stares back at
Arashi, not entirely processing the question. “…I want to go with you,” he
slowly answers, “but I—“
“No, stop, stop!” Mika protests, lurching forward to shove his hands over
Izumi’s mouth. “Just stop it! Gods, kara, jus’ take him and go, stop lettin’
him think about it, that’s the problem, he thinks himself into a damn corner
and then nothin’ happens!” He draws back, tears in his eyes, his hands shaking.
“I’m gonna start packin’, I don’t wanna stay here anymore, even Master’s bein’
weird!”
Izumi’s head starts to clear as Mika storms off, and he shuts his eyes, trying
to shake off the residual fog that just won’t lift. “Sorry,” he eventually
says. The stress, the worry, it all settles down into a dull roar, and he
swallows hard, as if that’ll help keep it that way. “I really don’t know what
happened. If the Emperor did something, I don’t…even really want to know.
Mika’s right, we should plan to leave.” Before I start feeling like that again.
“I’m not all about forcing you to do anything that I have to force you to do,”
Arashi says with a sigh. “I don’t really know what I’m doing, you know. It
might even be better to leave this whole place, let Rei and the Emperor fight
it out between themselves and just survive whoever’s on the throne.”
“I’m not being forced, I’m not,” Izumi groans, wiping his hands down his face.
His hands still tremble, and he can’t make it stop. “I feel sick—‘one of the
strongest bonds since Rei and Shu’s’, I can’t believe that. I hate wizards. Not
Mika, he’s different.”
“He’s too smart to bond to a dumb human,” Arashi says softly, eyes clouded.
“Keeps him from making stupid decisions, I guess.”
“It’s not something they can control.” Because if he doesn’t keep repeating
that mantra, it’s never going to stop being terrible. “It’s not something they
can control. And…and gods, maybe it’s better, then no one can kill you, and
hurt him,” Izumi says with a laugh that’s not entirely sane. “Arashi, cuddle
me, I’m fucking freezing.”
Arashi throws an arm around Izumi’s shoulders, squeezing him and steering him
towards his quarters. “You really want to pack?” he asks softly. “Could you do
it? Leave him behind for real, head North with the two of us?”
Izumi shakes his head, though it’s less a negative, more of a I don’t know. “I
need to meet with my mother,” he says. “And pass the girls onto her—they can’t
stay here, not if the Emperor is headed this way. Maybe Natsume is happy, at
least. Tsumugi isn’t dead in High Harbor, that’s different.”
“I hope she likes me,” Arashi admits. “What kind of person does she think you’d
marry? I’m good at parents if I know what they like.”
“She’s currently trying to get me to marry a tall, ugly, and hairy Northern man
that has all the wit of a rock.” This feels better. This feels natural. Right,
he’s fine, he doesn’t have to think about what is happening to Makoto at any
given moment. That was just…something strange, something entirely abnormal, not
a reoccurring thing. “But she knows I like pretty men and mostly just likes to
mess with me by telling me ugly men are better lovers. Wrong, by the way. Just
be yourself, she’s met you as my captain already.”
“At least I’m strong and tall-ish,” Arashi says with a shrug. “What would she
say about Mika? Or...are you not going to tell her about him?”
“Why wouldn’t I tell her about him?” Izumi grouses, rubbing a hand across the
back of his eyes. “Look, I know you’re used to your shitty hometown, where
you’ve got to hide everything fun and good about yourself, but I’ve always been
taught that at home, that’s where you get to be a fool and admit all the things
you’re doing and not be judged for it for once. I might not be home, but my
mother’s as good as I’m going to get for the moment. If I’ve got two men on my
arm, she’ll probably roll her eyes and ask me why at least one of them couldn’t
be a woman when Mika already looks like one, she wants grandchildren, but
whatever, she’s already got two.”
Arashi exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Well, then let’s mini-
run-away. Let’s grab Mika and go talk to your mother. Ah, this is good, at
least between the three of us, we’ve got one parent we can talk to.”
“That sounds good.” Izumi cracks a wry smile, and knocks his head lightly
against Arashi’s shoulder. “Sorry I’m a fucking nutcase. You know, I don’t
think the problem is wizards—just Nightcloaks. They all conspire with one
another, this is why Mika is superior.”
“Don’t talk shit about my master,” Mika softly says, lingering just inside the
doors of the courtyard, Elia in his arms, Kinsley firmly attached to one hand.
“But I mean, you’re right. They’re always like that. Are we goin’? You look
like you’re feelin’ better…”
“We’re going to see my mother,” Izumi says. “Then we’ll talk about when we’re
going to leave. Her opinion matters in this. I’d like to know what she thinks
of the Demon King.”
“I wanna meet our mother-in-law, don’t you? Ah!” Arashi kneels, patting the
girls on the head. “Don’t you two want to meet your...Izumi, what do they call
grandmothers in the North? In the west we said Granny. What about the
Sandlands?”
“Just Grandma, I think.”
“Bibi, in the South,” Mika offers up, still a bit skeptical on this plan of
action, but not wanting to protest all the same. “Ehh…don’t Northerners not
like people from the Sandlands? Maybe you two should jus’ go meet her…”
“No, we just don’t like the South, there’s a difference.”
Mika looks over to Arashi, eyebrows raised. “Is there a difference?”
“Of course, amaka. No one could not like you.” Arashi lays a hand on Mika’s
back, steering him firmly towards the exits of the Palace.
Kinsley tugs on Izumi’s sleeve. “Mika said I can call you Papa. That true?”
“Of course, and I wish you would.” Izumi picks her up, brushing a strand of her
already-growing hair out of her face. “And we’re about to go meet your
grandmother. She doesn’t have hair like us, but she still knows what it means.”
She laughs, and snuggles against his side. “I was gonna ask you to pick me up.
Can I be tall on your shoulders?”
“What do they call grandmothers in the Capital?” Arashi asks her, smiling to
himself as they walk.
“Nana. Is my one...a real lady?”
“A real Northern lady,” Izumi confirms, hoisting Kinsley up onto his shoulders.
“Which means she’s a lot tougher than these ladies in the Capital. Northern
ladies train their own horses, did you know that?”
“How? A horse is bigger than a lady. How big is she?”
“Smaller than me, but that doesn’t matter. It’s all about respect. My horse is
bigger than every man in the capital just about, but he still respects me.”
The fastest way to the walls around the Capital involves horses, but that
requires effort, and drawing a lot more attention to them. Instead, opting for
a carriage ride is smarter, safer, especially with children, and they reach the
lingering vestiges of the Northern encampment within a relatively short period
of time. The further away from the palace they are, the better Izumi feels.
Maybe there’s something to be said about leaving, sooner, rather than later.
“Lord Izumi!” Immediately upon sighting him, the guards posted about the
encampment kneel. The last time they were in the North, it had been so brief,
and he’d spent all of his time in Arashi’s army, more or less—Arashi getting to
see him receive this sort of treatment is, ah, different.
“Rise already, rise—is my mother about?”
The guards rise, and one points back towards the main tent. “Resting, Milord,
but she said if you arrived for you to go to her immediately.”
“Honestly, I’m sure the Demon King would’ve let her stay in a proper house, why
is she like this,” Izumi grouses, but nevertheless, he steps forward, picking
Kinsley up again so that she doesn’t dirty her shoes in the mud of the
encampment.
“Your Papa and Grandma are silly,” Mika tells Elia underneath his breath,
adjusting her in his own arms, and he looks sideways to Arashi, vaguely amused.
“Are we like, marryin’ a prince in our own right? No one in the Capital treats
‘im like that.”
“These people have never been to the Capital,” Arashi says, equally quiet, a
bemused little smile on his face. “The only authority they’ve ever known is the
Sena house. Look how much they love her--they came all the way down here
because she said he was in danger, and they’ve been here for months.”
Two guards at the entrance to Maya’s tent salute when they see Izumi, then drop
to their knees. “Lord Izumi. It’s good to see you well. Is there anything we
can bring you?”
“That’s enough.”
Maya pushes back the flap of her tent, beaming at the sight of her son, the
smile fading into something startled, but no less delighted when she sees the
little girl in Izumi’s arms. “Is this--what’s your name, little one?”
“Papa, you gotta put me down,” Kinsley whispers. “I can’t curtsy to a fancy
lady if you got me held up.”
“You don’t need to curtsy to her, she’s your grandmother,” Izumi whispers back,
but he gently places Kinsley down all the same, and tries not to look as
nervous as he feels. “Hi, Mama. This is Kinsley.” He turns, gesturing back to
the other little girl in Mika’s arms. “And that’s Elia. I, ah. Thought you’d
like to meet them.”
She nods, still a little shocked, and gestures Kinsley forward, crouching down
to look into her face. “Hello, Kinsley. I’m your grandmother. You can call me
Grandma if you like.”
Kinsley picks up the hem of the skirt Shu had sewed for her, and bobs a wobbly
curtsy. “Pleased to meet you, Milady...Grandma.” She looks up at Izumi, as if
to check that she’d done the right thing.
Arashi sets Elia on the ground next to her sister, and Kinsley starts moving,
showing her how to pick up the hem of her skirts. “You gotta do this to pretty
ladies and fancy men,” she whispers. “It’s important.”
“But you two are pretty ladies. Proper little princesses in your own right, I’d
say.” Maya clasps her hands, beaming as she looks up at Izumi. “Thank you for
bringing them here. Should I fetch a wetnurse, or are they weaned? And--oh,
these are...hold on, I remember, Captain Arashi and His Excellency Mika, isn’t
that right? Ah, would you like to use the warming stone? It’s authentic, though
not authentically heated.”
“Mama, they don’t keep nursing kids forever in the Capital,” Izumi sighs,
setting a hand on each girl’s head. “Honestly. Here, Mika, I’ll show you the
warming stone,” he says, striding into the tent, bringing his girls with him.
“And you can show the girls about it, too.”
Mika hesitates, clinging to the bottom of Arashi’s sleeve before he ducks his
head and follows nervously. “Seriously? Y’brought one all the way from the
North?”
“Obviously.” Izumi pulls the blankets back, pushes Mika down, and sets a little
girl to each side of him before he turns back to his mother. “I’ve been needing
to talk to you, but obviously I…had some things to take care of first.”
Maya looks between the three adults and two children, then says cheerfully,
“Why don’t we take a walk around the camp, while your friends and the little
ones get warm? We’ll need to prepare, ah, the Annunciation, the Dousing, and
the Naming all at once for two children. Ah, where are we going to find a cedar
tub under a waterfall down here? I suppose it could wait until we all go North,
but it’s such bad luck...”
Izumi hesitates, not entirely interested in being separated from the combined
calming, grounding forces that are Arashi and Mika, but he forces himself to
nod, steeling himself with a quick breath. “We’ll talk about that,” he
reassures her, taking his mother by the arm to lead her from the tent. “I’ll be
back in a moment, teach them how nice warming stones are, all right?”
He pulls the tent flap shut behind them. “Be gentle with them, Mama, especially
Elia,” he starts in a hushed voice. “Arashi found her scrubbing shoes for the
Hennessy house, and she bursts into tears if you as much as tell her that she’s
pretty. Kinsley’s tougher, but only by a bit. She was on the streets, running
around with a gang of thieves.”
Maya sucks in a breath through her teeth, nodding to herself. “I’ll be careful
with them. What would you like me to be to them, then? If you’re going to run
about soldiering, I’ll just raise them as my own, and they can be your little
sisters. Girls need a mother, you know.”
“And boys need a father, but I turned out just fine without one,” Izumi says,
bristling before he hears the words leave his mouth, and he sighs, glancing
away. “Sorry. No, they already call me Papa, I don’t want to confuse them
anymore than they already are. Besides, they’ve…” He flutters a hand, trying to
think of a way to sugarcoat it, then giving up. “They’ve basically got a
mother. Mika’s as good at that as I’ve ever seen, barring you, of course.”
“Oh.” Maya blinks, turning the information over in her head, thinking. “Well.
Where’s his family from? A wizard is good, though I would have preferred a
Nightcloak. But he’s sweet, and he seems to respect our traditions.”
“He’s as close to a Nightcloak as they can be without being utterly batshit.”
Izumi folds his arms with a sigh. “He’s from the Sandlands. Don’t make that
face, don’t you dare, I won’t hear it.”
She purses her lips. “You know, Dayton loves children--”
“Mother.”
 “Ooh, not even Mama? Too far? Well, you can’t expect me to show respect as
your betrothed if you haven’t told me. You just march in, handing me two
children, and offhandedly mention that you’re also bringing back some mid-grade
wizard from the Sandlands, nothing about his family, you don’t even tell me
that you love him--”
“That’s because it’s not that simple!” Izumi huffs, nose in the air. “And
you’ll be snippy about it, so no, I’m not going to explain much right now
unless you promise to have an open mind about it, and stop trying to marry me
off to people that honestly don’t appeal to a single one of my sensibilities!”
“Your ‘sensibilities’ gave me grandchildren by multiple women who polish shoes
in the street,” she reminds him, poking him between the eyes, then folding her
arms over her chest. “Fine, fine. Enlighten me about your sensibilities.
Consider my mind open.”
Izumi scowls, looking away, and takes a deep breath. “Arashi and Mika come as a
set,” he says, deciding to just get this part out of the way first. “I love
both of them, this isn’t negotiable. Arashi’s a lord in his own right, with one
of the largest armies in the land, and Mika might be a Nooncloak, but only
because the Emperor of the Academy refused to grant him a Nightcloak out of
spite. So that’s that. Mika doesn’t have a family, but he’s a wizard, it
doesn’t matter. And Arashi—well, he’ll tell you whatever you want to know, I’m
sure. You’re not allowed to poke and prod at Mika about his, he’s a delicate
sort. But none of that matters,” he presses before she can say a word, “because
my children are nobleborn, end of story. I was a bastard, none of this should
matter in the first place.”
Maya taps her finger slowly, rhythmically against her elbow, thinking. Finally,
she says, “Just one question. How serious are you? Not two months ago, you were
ready to fight an ocean for your prince, and he was the one.”
“And now he’s run off with another man and can’t be fucked to even politely ask
for his throne back.” Izumi’s lower lip trembles. “That’s not the full story,
but gods, I can’t wait for him forever. I’ve tried that.”
“So you’ve found yourself a couple in love instead?” Her eyes crease in worry.
“You’re certain this is what you want?”
“No, Mama,I’m not fucking certain!” Izumi rakes a hand back through his hair,
turning away in frustration. “But at least they give me the time of day and I
know I’m not going to be shuffled to the back and kept as a secret whore on the
damned side! Arashi, he—he came back to the Capital and the first thing he did
was try to hunt every man down that tortured me. He’s the one that found Elia,
and went with me to find my other girls, and they already love Mika and follow
him around like they’re ducklings imprinted on him!” He exhales a hot, wet
breath. “Leo, he…he’s traveling with the Emperor, the man we were supposed to
be trying to take down, along with his father. They’re lovers. That doesn’t
make me stop loving him for some goddamned reason, but I’m trying very hard to
get to that point.”
Maya sighs, and steps forward to pet his hair, tucking his face into her chest.
“Shh, shh, shh. All right, very well. I suppose it’s time to head home, then,
hmm? Your daughters need to see the land they’re going to rule someday. And
your...lovers? Are you going to marry one of them? Ah, well, either way, the
people need to meet the girls, hopefully ahead of the Annunciation. We’ll need
to do the Naming as soon as possible, of course, but the Dousing needs to wait
until we get proper glacier melts.”
Izumi nods, leaning against her for a moment just to catch his breath. “Arashi
and I have talked about it,” he quietly says, sniffling as he leans back,
wiping at his eyes. “I’d like to keep Mika out of the public eye as much as
possible, he can’t handle it. But Arashi—if we marry…well, as much as we’re
able, being two men, then combining the West and North…we’re a fair bit
stronger than the Capital, even. And a daughter for each dominance means
neither of us are without an heir.” He hesitates, then asks, “What do you think
of the Demon King?”
Maya beams, pleased that he seems to have thought at least this far ahead. “He
came and had supper and tea in the camp, which is more than I can say of any
other man who’s ever tried to lead me. He seems quite nice, though not
necessarily a strong commander. Too pretty for me, he could use some hair on
his chin. A man I wouldn’t mind having on the throne, though I’d prefer it if
the West were our permanent ally, as you said.”
“He doesn’t want the throne, he’s said it himself. He just wants the Academy,
but…better him, than the previous king,” Izumi murmurs. “Either way, the West
will be our permanent ally. Arashi’s an honorable man, and his men love him,
for good reason. I…” He trails off for a moment, then sighs, throwing up his
hands. “Don’t misunderstand any of this, Mama. I do love him, gods, don’t I. I
wish I had met him first. I wish I hadn’t kissed Leo after holding back for
seven damned years. I just feel like a fool, because I still can’t stop
thinking…maybe I can do something. Maybe I can convince Leo to step away from
that awful man and be the prince I thought he was.”
“That’s not your duty,” she says firmly, grabbing him by the shoulders. “If he
needs someone to convince him to be good, he’s not the man you want, and he’s
not good enough for you. No exceptions. If he overcomes this thrall on his own,
you can feel all topsy-turvy in the belly about him again. But until then, act
like a Northman, have some pride for your daughters!”
“I know.” Izumi huffs, glancing away. “That’s why I’m here, you know, and not
doing as I like. I have to ask, though—did he…actually deliver a man’s dead
body here? He told me he did some time ago, but I never got the chance to see
it for myself, obviously.”
“Mm, yes. Shot twice--first through the family jewels, then through the neck,
then thrown from the walls with a note tied to one of the arrows. I kept the
note, as it was addressed to you.” She smiles fondly. “That was a nice gesture,
I quite warmed to him for a bit. Would you like the note?”
“Please.” A knot unties in Izumi’s stomach—one of many, but it’s a start.
Maya reaches into a pouch at her belt, pulling out a tiny folded up paper,
passing it over.
Dear Lady Sena (Izumi’s Mother):
 Sorry about the mess! He was too fat to carry and I thought Izumi might want
to see him. Not sure whether to call this a present or a down payment. Either
way, sorry I can’t fulfill the rest of it right now, but I’ve got to do this
urgently!
 Izumi (or Izumi’s Mother), I found your children! One is at Patsa’s Orphanage,
one is at Lord Henessey’s in the scullery (I tried to snag her but the guards
caught me, sorry!), and the other is being raised as Lady Karn.
 I’m going to a few places! The Academy and the Merchant’s Guild first--I bet
you can guess why! If not, live in mystery!
 I’ll see you soon (Izumi). Hopefully the next time I see you (Izumi’s Mother
Lady Sena) I’ll be your son!
 It’s signed with a large happy face and a few music notes, running off the
side of the page.
“Fuck me,” Izumi mumbles, crumpling the note in a fit of surging regret. He
doesn’t toss it, but instead, stuffs it into his pocket. He says nothing else
about it, no matter how his heart aches in his chest, no matter how his head
swims, unhappily muddled. “Anyway,” he says, forcing his voice not to waver,
“the Emperor is headed this way, to the Capital. I don’t know what sort of
trouble he’s going to stir up, but my children can’t be here. I want them in
the North.”
“I’m not leaving my men behind to fight in someone else’s war,” she says
frankly. “Neither side has asked for our reinforcements, and neither has done
something heinous we must protest. We break camp tomorrow and head home. You
lot can come with my vanguard, we should be there in just a week or so, ahead
of the rest who are coming on foot.”
“I’m not asking your men to stay and fight. I want you to go, all of you. The
sooner, the better. Arashi and Mika as well—I’ll talk to them, to make sure
they agree, but they already had plans to leave as well.”
Maya’s face wavers. “When you say you...you’re coming with us. There’s nothing
for you here.”
“Mama—“ Izumi licks at his lips, glancing away again. “I’ll come with you.
After…he arrives. After I make sure that this is a lost cause. And if it is, I
swear I’ll head straight to the North. I just have to see it for myself. I
know, I know, no matter how many times I say I’m done, I just—I can’t walk away
until it’s finished. It probably is, and this is a waste of my time, but…”
She sighs, and tousles his hair. “Idiot. Don’t say it like that. Do you think
when they abducted you, I said, ‘Oh, well, I’ll march down to the Capital and
ask them to maybe pretty please give my son’s body back, and if I can, I’ll try
and change something?’ No! You want to stay? You stay with a goal, and you come
home when you’re a champion.”
“It would be good if it were that simple, Mama. It never really is, when
wizards are involved, and the prince’s got the worst of the bunch rather
attached to him.” Izumi grimaces. “Literally. Magically. I’d explain it, but
it’s just a load of nonsense even to me.”
“Also,” she says dryly, “I’m not interested in you telling me why you can’t do
what you want to do. If you’re not going to be useful down here, come North
with me and take care of your children, they’ve suffered long enough.”
“You know, Mama, I thought you’d be fucking proud of me for saying I can’t walk
away until I’m completely finished with this mess, but fine, nothing I do’s
going to please anyone, I get that now. So fuck it, right? Here’s me putting my
foot down, then.”
Izumi brushes past her, turning around to storm back to her tent, yanking open
the flap and ignoring guards that fall over themselves to kneel. “Arashi, come
here, I need to talk to you.”
Arashi rises from where he’s sitting sharp-eyed, keeping watch, finger to his
lips as he nods to Mika, Elia, and Kinsley all curled up sleeping on the
warming stone. He smiles, and follows Izumi out of the tent before asking,
“How’d it go?”
“Go North with them. Please. My mother’s leaving tomorrow.” Izumi stares up at
him, wavering, then says, “I’ll follow you within the week, after I speak to
Leo, or the Emperor, or…whoever I can get my hands on, I don’t know, and I
don’t care. I can’t leave without putting a proper end to this, I’m sorry.”
Arashi blinks, then nods, and darts a look side to side, making sure no one is
watching before he presses a soft kiss to Izumi’s lips. “All right, be safe.
You sure you don’t want me to stay and help?”
“I don’t trust anyone else but you to keep those three safe,” Izumi quietly
says, “because even if you’re riding ahead of the Emperor…I don’t know,
something could happen. I’ve explained the situation to my mother, and she
knows not to poke and prod Mika, and she knows about our plans, with the North
and the West. She’s just…ugh, she’s doing that mom thing, trying to make me
second guess everything again, and so I’m doing the shitty thing and pushing
her off onto you for now.” He forces a smile. “Sorry. At least I can’t die,
right?”
“Do me a favor and don’t keep testing that,” Arashi says softly, and his mouth
quirks up at the corner. “Kick Leo’s ass a little, will you? I know, he can’t
control it, but still, gross. And then...come home.”
“That’s the plan. I’m angrier now than I was before.” He pulls out the crumpled
letter, stuffing it into Arashi’s hand. “For safekeeping. Read it, let it sink
in that he knew about where my goddamn babies were, and forgot to fucking tell
me. Also—“
Izumi grabs Arashi by the collar, yanking him down to kiss him hard, within
full view of whatever soldier that happens to be passing by. “No one gives a
shit in the North, and we’re getting as married as we can get,” he breathes,
eyes flashing. “Got it?”
Arashi stumbles slightly, cheeks red. “O-oh my,” he breathes. “You sure know
how to make a lady feel all twitterpatted. Go, go on then. I’ll see you soon.
Don’t die.”
“Kiss Mika like that, so he’s not mad at me,” Izumi orders, taking a step back.
“I’ll have your things and horse brought out to you. See you soon!”
***** Chapter 50 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
The North moves out the next day, right on schedule, and a weight lifts from
Izumi’s shoulders, with a sense of longing replacing it.
It’s just one more thing to occupy his mind, he wearily supposes, stacked onto
the worry about his children, the stress over Leo, the strange, intense spurts
of need to see Makoto—but he shoves it all down, forcing himself to focus,
needing to focus.
Barely a day after Arashi and Mika leave, Izumi is left to contemplate his next
move, which he does while spending an inordinate amount of time braiding his
horse’s mane. Lost in thought, he doesn’t notice the familiar shock of red hair
that steps down the stable hall until the stall door next to his own creaks
open, and Izumi glances up, blinking. “…Mao?”
An hour later, with every attempt for both of them to be amicable reached,
Izumi finds himself armed with far more knowledge than expected. Mao,
apparently, has been in the Capital since before the Demon King arrived, as has
Ritsu—the latter, bemusedly, refusing to stay within the palace, no matter that
his brother is in charge. Instead, he can be found at Tsukasa’s, and Mao can as
well, save for his visits to the dungeons, where he keeps a careful eye on
those still loyal specifically to the Emperor. “The princess asks about you,”
Mao says, saddling his horse. “She and her mother don’t have a lot of love for
the Suou family, but, well. It was that, or leave for the South.”
“Tell her I’ll see her soon.”
“I’ll tell her that you’re going to visit her brother soon, more like. They’re
about…twelve hours from here, they took the long way from High Harbor, the
scenic route.” Mao rolls his eyes. “Sounds like the Emperor.”
“That’s so close. Shouldn’t Rei have warned us about it by now?”
“Why would he, when he just plans to rip their heads off?” Mao snorts,
tightening his horse’s girth. “What you need to understand is that he’s
uninterested in diplomacy. You agree with him, good job. You don’t, you’re
dead. If you’re a liability, he’ll do what he can to limit that, if you’re
useful in some other way.” He hesitates, as if he’s about to say something
else, then he shakes his head, and hauls himself up into the saddle. “Good
luck. I can’t get involved in this anymore.”
He’s gone, and Izumi hastens to saddle his own horse, uninterested in letting
the Emperor get any closer without his own investigation.
The ‘scenic route’ is one that Izumi has ridden many times before in the past,
just because, or for hunting purposes. It’s also a roundabout way to the West,
and he’s never been more grateful that he knows his mother wouldn’t be going
this way, or that Arashi has no desire to go to his home right now. Less than
six hours into the ride, with the sun quickly going down, there’s a tiny, off-
shoot town absolutely meant only for weary travelers. Taking a wild guess, he
pulls Vale off the road and onto the dirt streets, down to the single inn
there, and to the building vaguely resembling a stable. He whistles, and a
familiar nicker catches his ear as one of the horses whips around in his stall,
slinging his head over the door.
Tempo.
 He slides off of Vale’s back, slapping his ass to send him thundering back to
the main road unattended (he’ll eat for hours and nothing else, which is fine
for right now) before he pulls up his hood, cinching it tightly as he heads
into the inn, his heart thudding.
“Tell me I’m wasting my time, Yuzuru. Every day I look at him, he just gets on
my nerves more and more.”
The dining area is hardly empty, but what catches Izumi’s eye is the tiny group
in one corner, which he pointedly sits across from, angled so that he can only
see them out of the corner of his eye. Eichi is unmistakable—tall even when
he’s seated, with his hair glittering pale and platinum in low light—and Leo is
no better, seated at his side. Izumi can only assume the one sitting across
from them is Yuzuru, and whatever captives Eichi supposedly has are no where to
be found.
“I keep thinking—the theatrics of killing him in the middle of the Capital,
that’s important. But at the same time, then I’m going to have to deal with the
Demon King throwing a proper tantrum, and he’s been so tame so far. Am I too
old for this? Ahh, I wish Wataru were here,” Eichi says wistfully. “He
understands this sort of thing.”
Yuzuru, face as impassive as he can manage, bows slightly. “Whatever will allow
us to reach our destination in the Capital most quickly, Excellency, is what I
believe to be most expedient. My poor little master must be quite terrified,
all alone without me...I do hope his captors are reading him his favorite
stories, or he gets ill in the night.”
“Or you could let him go,” Leo suggests wearily. Every time Eichi looks away, a
sausage roll or pasty goes up his sleeve, then into his pockets. “Show how, ah,
fearsome in your mercy the Emperor is.”
“Now that’s just silly, there’s nothing fearsome about mercy,” Eichi sniffs.
“Don’t worry, Yuzuru. The first thing I’ll do is—well, maybe not the first,
because Tsumugi needs to die—make sure that Tori is safe and sound and in my
arms again. And yours, of course. Rei wouldn’t’ve killed him, he’s too soft for
that.” He shifts restlessly. “Honestly, just knowing he’s there still…to hell
with it, I’ll slaughter that captain of his instead, Rei cares about him just
as much, and the Capital cares more about humans. I need to go take my
frustration out on that traitorous slime right now.”
“Very good, Excellency,” Yuzuru says with another bow, and returns to pushing
his food around his plate into the shape of Tori’s face.
“Wait,” Leo interrupts, frowning. “You don’t mean right now. We’re eating.”
“Of course I mean right now, that’s what I mean when I say right now.” Eichi
huffs, slowly rising to his feet. “Stay put, it’s not like this will take long,
and then I can stop thinking about it.”
“Wait.”
Leo’s voice has a hint of panic, but he squashes that down, rising quickly to
his own feet, shucking his lumpy-pocketed cloak and leaving it on his chair.
His eyes cloud suddenly with lust, and he reaches over the table, grabbing
Eichi by the shirt, yanking him close. “You mean there’s something on your mind
that’s not me? Ah...I’m jealous...”
Eichi hesitates…for a second. Then he sighs, pushing Leo back down, petting his
hair as if he’s placating a needy pet cat. “Just wait patiently. Once he’s
dead, then you’ll be all I have to think about. Doesn’t that sound good?”
“No.” Leo hooks a leg around Eichi’s waist, tugging him close, letting his own
breath hitch as his eyelids flutter. That hunger--it isn’t faked. It’s always
simmering just under the surface these days, as if all he has to do is think
about it and it’ll consume his thoughts. “I want you to think about me now.
Ah...I suppose...if you have to go somewhere, I could get someone else to play
with me...” His hand slides down, thumbing over one of his own nipples, sending
a shock through his own body, making his pulse quicken. “You might come back
inside...to find someone else having me on this table...it won’t feel the same,
but maybe...”
“Oh, honestly…” Eichi exhales a sigh, but it’s far more placating now, even as
he slaps Leo’s hand away to replace it with his own. “If you’re going to act
like this in public, I’m going to have you over the table myself,” he lowly
threatens, pinching one of Leo’s nipples as he yanks him into his lap, settling
him down over his already hard erection to hide it. “Behave. Ahh, what was I
talking about, this brat is so distracting. I never thought a real bond would
be like this, it’s very troubling.”
Leo loops his arms around Eichi’s neck, nearly purring at the contact, even as
he flushes at the thought of how many people are in the Inn. “Hnn, take me
upstairs. You don’t really want to embarrass me like that, do you?”
“Excellency, shall I leave?”
“You know what, yes,” Eichi snaps, jerking back up to his feet and yanking Leo
up with him. “Because now I have to deal with this.”
Leo reaches up, wrapping his legs around Eichi, ducking his face into his neck.
“Everyone here knows who I am,” he murmurs into his ear, eyes blown with lust.
It takes him over when they’re this close, makes him feel sick with hunger, as
if it’s the only thing that matters. “Hurry, get me into private, or they’ll
know what you’ve turned their prince into...”
“I already said we’re going, stop breathing on me.”
Eichi sounds annoyed, but his own breath already comes too fast, and he hefts
Leo up with a huff of effort, taking to the stairs in short order, disappearing
up them. Izumi waits, no matter how his teeth are gritted, no matter how he
swears he’s going to break the handle of his ale tankard clear off, until
Yuzuru vanishes.
This is a stupid idea, but so help him, he’s probably done stupider things.
The thought of Leo being reduced to nothing more than this makes Izumi so angry
that he can’t think past it. So, he waits, drinks, and waits more until he’s
calm enough to grab the arm of the nearest, prettiest barmaid, and bats his
eyelashes up at her. “Hello, Milady. The cute redhead that just went upstairs
with his friend, could you do me a favor that involves him in a few minutes?”
Fifteen minutes later, a knock hesitantly comes upon Eichi’s door. “Milord? I
hate to be interrupting you, but there’s been a sightin’ of horse thieves in
the area. Would you come down to the stables to make sure yours wasn’t one of
them swiped?”
Eichi, sated, if not moody and still overstimulated, grumbles and shifts,
giving Leo a nudge. “Deal with it, you’re the one that likes those smelly
things.”
Leo presses a kiss to Eichi’s temple, then tugs on his hair. “I haven’t worn
you out enough, if you’re still talking,” he teases, standing and hopping into
his trousers. “I’m going to make you have me again when I get back, so don’t
waste that energy. It’s mine.”
Then he slips down the stairs, nodding cheerily to the barmaid on his way down
to the stables. “Tempo, you shouldn’t let anyone get stolen on your watch,” he
scolds, heading into the stables, tying his hair into a short tail. “What kind
of a guard horse is...”
He catches a glimpse of silver hair, and his world spins. “Izumi,” he whispers,
eyes wide, and his knees buckle, making him stumble as he races forward,
grabbing at Izumi’s shirt, touching his chest as if checking that he’s still
alive, that he’s real.
“Shh, shh, don’t say my name, you little idiot,” Izumi hisses, jerking him
straight into one of the horse stalls, slamming it shut behind him and yanking
up his cloak more thoroughly over his hair. “Are you all right?” he whispers,
grabbing up Leo’s face in his hands. “Ugh, you look like a mess, and I can’t
even fix it or he’ll know…”
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Leo assures him, tears pricking at his eyes. “I didn’t
think I’d see you again, are you--thank the gods you’re here, you can kill me.
Hurry, do it now.”
“What? No, absolutely not, are you insane?”
Izumi exhales a breath, and quickly crushes Leo to his chest, burying his face
down into his hair. “That’s not happening,” he quietly says. “It’s not. I’m
sorry, Leo, I can’t do that.”
Leo lets himself enjoy the hug for a long moment then pushes Izumi away,
grabbing for his dagger. “You’ve got to,” he insists, shoving it into Izumi’s
hand. “It’ll kill him, it’s the only way--I can’t--I can’t do it myself, and
every time I’m close to him, I can’t think, my whole mind goes blank, I can
barely--please, if you love me, just do it.”
“That’s not fair and I’m not doing it!” Izumi slams the dagger down into the
wood of the stall, and grabs Leo by the shoulders, shaking him. “You’ve given
me enough hell, so you’re going to do something yourself this time,” he hisses.
“Shu’s perfectly goddamn functional when he’s around Rei, and their bond is
stronger than yours. I know, I asked. Unless you prefer being his cute little
concubine, and giving up every single time your dick gets hard.”
“That’s not fair,” Leo whispers, eyes red. “I’m--I’m trying to do the right
thing! I’ve asked, Rei’s doing a fine job running everything so far. Let him
keep doing it! All I care about is my country, my sister and you, and all of
those things will be safe if Eichi is dead. It’s the only way to kill him, so
what’s your plan? Ack, forget it.”
He scrubs his hand over his face, absently pressing a kiss to Izumi’s hand. “If
you can’t do that, you’ve gotta get the captives free. They’re in the locked
wagon behind the Inn. I’ll throw the keys outside after I get back up there and
he falls asleep. I’m--I’ve been trying to--I--they’re still alive. I did what I
could, but it’s...tiring...and he’s losing his patience...”
Izumi’s lips purse, and he nods. “I’ll set them free. How many are there? No,
to hell with it, I don’t care. I’ll deal with it.”
He grabs Leo close again by the hand, scowling down at him. “Rei doesn’t want
your damned throne. He wants the Academy, nothing else, and he’s definitely
just waiting for you to make your move. If you don’t want it, then you need to
tell me now, so I can tell him and he can stop expecting something that’s never
going to happen.”
Leo clenches his fists, looking down at them, humiliation burning inside him.
“I want it so bad I wake up every morning thinking I’m there,” he whispers.
“But I don’t think I deserve it anymore. I’ll never be free of him, as long as
I live. And I can’t be trusted when he’s alive.”
“There has to be another way to kill him. Mika said he was the weakest he’s
ever seen him last time—so that means he can be weakened, and maybe killed,
too.” Izumi leans back, folding his arms. “So long as you still want the
throne, I’ll do everything I can to help you,” he quietly says. “Aside from
killing you, because that’s defeating the damned purpose. I’m not interested in
hearing how you don’t deserve it, though. You either want it or you don’t.”
Leo sniffs, but nods, butting his head against Izumi’s chest. “Yeah. I still
want it. My dream...is still alive, if you can see it. Ugh, I didn’t want this,
you know I didn’t want this, I wanted...you. Just you. Heh...at least I can be
some use for right now, right?” His eyes water so freely that the tears run off
his chin in a stream as he tries to laugh. “I g-guess I can’t t-t-tease you for
how m-much you wanted to, to do it, anymore...”
Irritation, frustration, exhaustion—all of that flutters out the window when
Leo cries like that, and Izumi gives up, winding his arms around Leo, firmly
pulling him into his chest. “I know you’re doing it to try and keep him from
killing other people,” he quietly says, “but there has to be some way for you
to…I don’t know. Have a stopgap to it? Or maybe try being the world’s most
annoying little brat, then he’ll snap it like he snapped mine.”
“Eh? He what?”
“You heard me. Gods, not that I was even aware it was there,” Izumi mutters,
glancing away. “But he snipped it right in half, apparently. I don’t know why,
to fuck with me? To fuck with us? Who knows, he’s nuts.”
Leo shivers. “I didn’t know that. I didn’t know he did that, I didn’t know he
could...weird, I thought that would kill you. I wonder why he hasn’t done it to
us? Gods know I’ve annoyed him a lot, he’s definitely seen through my plan,
even if he can’t stop me.”
“Because he’s obsessed with having a bond, that’s why. The one he had with the
Faerie—fake or something like it. So now that he’s got one, he’s like some kind
of an addict.” Izumi makes a face. “Gross. Anyway, I thought it was just
killing the other person that would kill you…but what do I know, all of this
wizard nonsense gives me a headache.”
“Same,” Leo says, with a crooked, tired smile. “We were doing all right without
any of this shit, weren’t we? Heh...remember when all we had to worry about was
how scared you are that someone would find out you could heal?” He reaches up,
lip quivering as he brushes the hair back from Izumi’s face. “It’s long again,
good.”
“Yeah. And Shu trimmed it up, so it doesn’t look like a hot mess.” Izumi’s eyes
lid, and he catches Leo’s hand, squeezing it. “Maybe stop letting him get his
way,” he softly says, “with you specifically. I’m going to use Rei and Shu as
an example here again, because I know you’re not a slave to him. If he’s an
addict, then maybe he’ll behave himself for your approval.”
“I’ve been panicking,” Leo whispers, avoiding Izumi’s eyes. “I’ve been--ugh, I
don’t want to say it out loud, it makes me feel like a cheap whore, but--on
some things, I’ve tried, I’ve tried, but he’s...capricious. He’ll just decide
to do something and I have to think really fast, he’s decided to kill the
prisoners at least eight times just on the way from High Harbor. The only good
thing is that so far, I’ve always been able to seduce him whenever he tries, no
matter how obvious about it I am, and you’re right, he is weak, he’s always
exhausted after.”
“Unfortunate that you’re cute, huh.” Izumi heaves a sigh, and gently pulls on
Leo’s ponytail. “I wonder why he’s so weak. Figure that out, and I wonder if
that’s the secret to killing him…without killing you, god willing. I’ll try to
talk to Rei about it. What even is his plan anymore? Is he trying to rip the
Capital and Academy away from Rei again?”
“I don’t know,” Leo says wearily. “I don’t know. He’s like a child, he’s mad
because they took his things. Just--if you can free the hostages, I’ll feel so
much better, they deserve better than this.”
“Leo. If that’s seriously the answer, good, I’ll take it and run with it, but
if you know anything about what he’s going to do once he gets to the Capital,
think and tell me now.”
Leo chews on his bottom lip. “All he’s talked about is teaching Rei a lesson
and doing public executions, seriously. I don’t know if that’s one and the same
or not, but I know he thinks executing those three is really gonna hurt him.”
His mouth twists suddenly. “I have to go, he’s wondering what’s taking me so
long. Just--”
He presses a hard kiss to Izumi’s mouth. “Get them out. I’ll distract him until
it’s too late. Go, I love you, go.”
“I’ll do what I can, I swear,” Izumi promises him, unlatching the stall door.
His heart thumps painfully, but he doesn’t have time for that right now. “Throw
me the keys when he passes out, I know which window is yours now.”
Leo nods, and darts off.
Twenty minutes later, a window opens, and an iron key hits the ground with a
little puff of dirt, just as the window surreptitiously closes again.
It’s a good idea, in theory.
The problem, of course, is that Yuzuru doesn’t seem to fucking sleep. Izumi
waits, and waits, and waits longer, until he’s nearly asleep where he stands,
but Yuzuru isn’t, not until he’s called away by…gods, probably Eichi, and that
makes this a dozen times more dangerous. Izumi reminds himself that he can’t
really die, no matter how he’d rather not have that put to the test, and he
sneaks around to the carriage, fumbling with the lock in the near pitch-black
darkness.
“Tsumugi?” He’s the only one Izumi knows for sure that has to be here, so it’s
the only name he calls. The door is loud when he helps it creak open, and Izumi
winces. “If you’re able, answer me, it’s Izumi and I’m trying to help you
escape.”
“Izumi?”
The voice is weary and scratchy, accompanied by a cough. “Ah...thank the gods,
I was hoping they’d send someone. I can move, but...”
The first person who comes out of the wagon, however, is Subaru, with a cloak-
wrapped bundle in his arms. “Good to see you, whoever you are,” he says,
winking. “Should we run? That mole guy definitely has magic alarms set on this
place.”
“Shit,” Izumi mutters, quickly stepping back to let Subaru out. “It’s you. Of
course he’d grab you up—yes, definitely, we need to run. I’ve got one horse,
but he can carry a couple of people, or I can steal another one, how many of
you are there? And how injured?”
“Just three. I can run, or I can ride, either way. Mumu in there is pretty
messed up, and I’ll carry Ukki here.”
Tsumugi waves weakly, and gestures down at his legs, one of which is bent at an
altogether sickening angle, swollen in sick bruises. “If you can get me on a
horse, I’ll do what I can,” he offers, “but please consider leaving me behind,
if you can get those two to safety.”
Izumi’s heart stops, and for the life of him, he can’t figure out why.
Yuukun, he’s carrying Yuukun, is he all right, is he hurt, too, did Eichi
snapping that bond hurt him more than me, did he—
 No, focus, focus, focus, focus—
 Izumi swallows hard, and forces himself forward into the wagon. “This is going
to hurt like a bitch,” he warns Tsumugi, and rests a hand against his broken
leg. “Sorry.”
The sickening crack required to shove that bone first back into place makes
Izumi’s teeth grit, and the hurried, abrupt healing to follow can’t do it any
favors…or so Izumi would think, but it’s Tsumugi, and damned if he barely seems
to react to the whole ordeal. “We’re running, I’ll steal a second horse on the
way,” he says, grabbing Tsumugi’s hand to haul him upright. “You’re fucking
weird, anyone ever tell you that?”
“Often, thank you,” Tsumugi says shakily, taking Izumi’s hand and hitting the
ground running. “But it certainly seems to come in handy just now, don’t you
think? Ah, Subaru certainly is full of energy...apologies, I’m not that
fast...”
Subaru is already a dozen paces ahead, only pausing to make sure the two of
them are following before he runs ahead again, Makoto’s head lolling to the
side over his shoulder.
“Keep going down the road, my horse is there!” Izumi shouts after him, and it’s
the last thing he manages to say before an explosion—from where? he can’t even
pinpoint it—lands somewhere near them, knocking him off of his feet and
skidding into the road in a heap. The sound of it alone makes his ears ring and
makes the world move too slowly around him, but he shoves himself up onto his
elbows, struggling to catch his breath when the wind’s knocked out of him so
solidly.
“I was wondering when you’d turn up, half-breed.”
The toe of Eichi’s boot catches him underneath his chin, kicking him backwards
and making his head crack against the ground again, and Izumi snarls as he
tastes blood. “Nice job, honestly! I love a good challenge, but you—“ Eichi’s
attention swiftly shifts to Tsumugi, also knocked flat from the explosion,
which now seems to have lingering wizard fire clinging to trees and the ground
itself, flickering low and golden in the night. “You aren’t allowed to run
anymore.” His voice is lower, colder, and he takes a step closer. “Come here.
Maybe if you crawl to me and ask nicely, I’ll consider not ripping the skin of
your pretty little kitty-cat off when I get to the Capital tomorrow.”
“Izumi,” Tsumugi says gently, walking between him and Eichi, “please get the
rest to safety. Eichi, what would you like me to do that I haven’t done
already?” He kneels, then moves forward onto all fours, as requested, though a
ripple of disappointment, fear, and anger twitches at the corner of his eyes.
“Eichi! Don’t!”
Hoofbeats echo in the night air, Leo sliding off his bareback horse as he
approaches, eyes wild, hair wilder. “Don’t hurt them. You’ll--you’ll disappoint
me. I’ll leave if you do, I don’t want you to do this!”
“Leo, be reasonable,” Eichi sighs, not looking away from Tsumugi, a mix of
vague satisfaction and annoyance crossing over his face. “When captives decide
to run away, something has to be done about it.”
Izumi, slowly easing himself up to his feet until now, takes one look at Leo’s
horse, and goes for it. He snatches up Tempo’s reins, hauls himself up onto his
bare back, and kicks him into a gallop, speeding away to catch up to the sounds
of Vale’s much heavier hoofbeats, undoubtedly spurred on by Subaru further up
the road.
“Oh well, I’ll see him tomorrow, anyway,” Eichi dismisses, glancing back down
to Tsumugi. “Aren’t you delighted? You’re the main event now.” He doesn’t sound
as entertained as he thought he’d be, however, and his teeth grit. “Gods,
honestly, I just want you dead, even just looking at you makes me want to
scream.”
Tsumugi straightens up, giving Eichi a sad look. “I wish you didn’t feel that
way. Eichi, you have what you wanted so badly for so long. I truly wish you
could be happy with it.”
“Listen to him,” Leo urges, coming forward to take Eichi’s hand, squeezing it.
“You don’t need to punish him, he’s not fighting you, what’s the point?”
“The point is that I hate him, why is that so hard to understand?”
Eichi switches his grip, grabbing Leo’s wrist instead and jerking him close
with a hand wrapped up into his hair. “Eventually, this bond needs to be strong
enough so that you can see exactly into my mind, so you don’t have to ask such
stupid questions,” he breathes, and without looking up, snaps, “Yuzuru. Be
useful, throw this useless traitor back into the wagon so I can go and get some
sleep.”
“Yes, Excellency.”
Leo’s eyes blaze, and he grabs Eichi’s wrist, looking defiantly up at him. “Or
maybe it’ll be strong enough that you’ll feel some compassion through me. I
want to believe that you’re better than this. But you’re making it really
hard!”
Eichi heaves a long sigh as he tilts his head back. “I have plenty of
compassion. I didn’t kill that half-breed, did I? Because I know you love him
so much. When I hand the throne back to you, you can have him all you like,
just so long as you teach him a bit of respect. I don’t like the way he glares
at me, it’s just plain rude.”
“He thinks you’re the one who snapped his resonant bond.” Because Leo had
understood, even if he hadn’t wanted to. His hand relaxes, and he lets his
fingers thread between Eichi’s. “Why not just let Tsumugi go? I’m starting to
think those rumors about you being obsessed with him are true...I’m enough for
you, aren’t I?”
“Don’t start with that again,” Eichi sighs, begrudgingly letting his other hand
stroke Leo’s hair rather than pull on it. “I’m proving a point with him that’s
very necessary. If you don’t give me what I want, there are consequences. At
any rate, what was that about me snapping your half-breed’s bond?”
“That’s what he thinks,” Leo says, though he can’t entirely say why he’s saying
it. “They know, somehow, that you were going to use that kid against him.
That’s my guess. So it doesn’t matter that they got away, right? Hey...”
Leo strokes down Eichi’s chest, the nearness of him frying his mind again,
making it misfire. “You should listen to your prince, don’t you think?”
Eichi’s lips quirk. “Maybe. Because you’ve given me some useful information,”
he murmurs, bending down and catching Leo’s chin between his fingers to lift
his head up. “If you want something, you can ask for it.”
I want you to fuck me on the side of the road is what Leo almost says, leaning
up instinctively for a kiss, but...
But Izumi’s voice is still in his ear, in his head. “I want you to stop with
the punishments. Please. Let him go. If nothing else, it’ll shock your enemies
so much they won’t know how to protest against you.” He’s still shaky, still
wobbly, but it’s a far sight better than he’s been able to do until now.
A sigh follows that, and Eichi leans back, releasing Leo’s face with a
disappointed pout. “As much as I’d like to appease you,” he grumpily says,
because he does, annoyingly enough, want to give in and do just that, “I can’t.
Not with Tsumugi. The other two can go, I don’t care. I won’t chase them down.
But Tsumugi…he stays. Ah, a compromise! I won’t kick him around any longer,
how’s that?”
Leo huffs, then shrugs. “It’s a start. I can work with this. Mmmm, nnnnn, thank
you. Now...”
He pushes Eichi back, off the road, eyes glinting. “Want to cover my clothes
with grass stains as a way of making it official?”
“What happened to ‘everyone around here knows me, you can’t do this in
public’?” Eichi mildly asks, even as he grabs Leo by the front of his shirt,
hauling him close. “Are you trying to condition me? I agree to one of your
silly requests, and you reward me with sex?”
Leo winks cheekily. “Is it working? Hahaha! No, you just agreed and it made me
happy, and it made me want to make you happy! Ahhh, besides, it’s nighttime, so
it’s dark, right? No one will know it’s us.”
“Ahh, I suppose you’re right, though you’ve worn me out from before…” Eichi’s
eyes lid in thought, his fingers sliding back through Leo’s hair to dislodge it
from its ponytail. “Perhaps we should start with your knees acquiring grass
stains, then.”
Leo sucks in a breath, and at that, he does look left and right, ears turning
pink at the idea of doing that in public. Still, the idea does have a certain
appeal...
Slowly, he drops to his knees, swallowing hard as he reaches for the laces of
Eichi’s trousers. “You made a promise to feed it to me,” he whispers huskily,
hands tracing over the now-familiar shape of Eichi’s thick cock. “I don’t think
I can take much more than the head, though...”
“We’ll see about that,” Eichi sighs, his eyes lidded as he leans back against
the hard trunk of a tree, letting Leo do the work of unlacing him. His fingers
drift to Leo’s hair, threading back through it. “I want to see how much you can
take.”
Leo’s mouth opens as if by Eichi’s order, eyes lidding as he leans forward,
flicking the tip of his tongue over the head of Eichi’s cock. “Still tastes
like oil from earlier,” he murmurs, “even if I cleaned you off. Ah...you won’t
make me take the whole thing, will you?”
Eichi’s breath hitches, and his fingers tighten in Leo’s hair. “You don’t even
want to try?” he lowly teases, his other hand reaching down to curl around the
base of his cock, squeezing slowly. Just the touch of Leo’s tongue makes his
blood pump too-hot, too-fast, and he pushes the head of his cock against his
parted lips. “Open up a bit more, and watch those sharp teeth of yours.”
It’s too much almost immediately. Leo’s mouth fills with just the head of
Eichi’s cock, and he whimpers, feeling the stretch of his lips wide around just
the tip, dragging the flat of his tongue over the slit. He breathes through his
nose, and tries to take more, tries to keep his mouth wide, tries to avoid
scraping his teeth over that skin, but there’s just so much.
“Your mouth’s so hot,” Eichi breathes, slowly petting Leo’s hair. He barely
moves at first, only enough to let his cock rub against Leo’s tongue. “I’ll
keep this in mind for when you’re saying things that annoy me. It’s a good look
for you. Now, behave.”
His fingers tighten against the back of Leo’s head, pushing him forward as
Eichi shoves his cock further down his throat, until the head of his cock bumps
into the back of his throat. “Breathe through your nose, I know it’s not too
far down yet,” he rasps, his cock twitching, dripping steadily now. “I know
when it’s really too much, don’t forget that.”
Leo blinks rapidly, nervously sucking in air, even as he leans in. The idea
that he’s tasting something so intimate makes him shudder, along with the old
embarrassment and shame that he’s always felt even considering something like
this. Proud men don’t do things like this. Princes don’t do anything like this.
But damned if he doesn’t want to.
Eichi’s cock bumps against his throat, and he chokes, but doesn’t pull off,
feeling Eichi’s cock grow slicker when he starts to drool.
“There we go, that’s a good boy,” Eichi groans, and his self-control wavers
helplessly. His hips twitch forward, and his cock slides forward down Leo’s
throat before he chokes again, nestling itself there. Another, light tug on
Leo’s hair, and he pulls him down until his nose brushes against his stomach,
leaving Eichi to shiver hard, his cock throbbing between those slick lips,
throbbing against his tongue. “See? It fits. Ahh, if I came right now, I bet
you couldn’t even taste it…”
He pulls Leo off by the hair before he truly can’t breathe, his eyes
glittering, cock rubbing against his tongue. “This is just another reason why
you’re my favorite plaything, I suppose.”
Leo gags, eyes watering, braced on his arms as he coughs and tries not to
retch. “S-sorry, it’s so much, I can’t--nnh, give it back, though, I want it,
yeah?” He looks up, hands coming to rest on Eichi’s thighs, huge green eyes
blinking. “You won’t let me truly asphyxiate, will you?”
“No, I won’t.” Eichi thumbs open his mouth again, unable to resist when Leo
says give it back—and unwilling to, besides. “You’re being so good,” he sighs,
easing his cock past those swollen lips once more, and he’s much faster about
letting it fill Leo’s mouth this time, a shallow thrust letting it drag over
Leo’s tongue, then further, when he pulls Leo’s hair.
Leo gags almost immediately, but refuses to pull off this time, letting Eichi
drive into his throat. His nipples tingle, and his pulse thuds in his ears,
vision swimming. His cock strains against his trousers just from the thought of
what he’s doing, and he moans, eyes crossing at the thick intrusion into his
mouth, into his throat, the taste overwhelming and all he can think of.
Eichi’s never been able to hear his thoughts, the way they say bonded couples
can--but they connect so well like this, maybe that’s the trade-off. Just now,
Leo isn’t sure he’d prefer the other way.
Leo’s mouth is slick and hot, but feeling him struggle to swallow his cock down
is more alluring than both of those things. Eichi’s breath escapes fast and
hard as he thrusts forward, not too hard, not when Leo gags, but whenever he
feels the slightest bit of tension leave, whenever he’s sure he can shove his
cock down Leo’s throat and stay there, even if it’s for a second. He’s achingly
hard, dripping and twitching as he grinds forward, fucking into Leo’s mouth
because nothing feels better in that moment.
His fingers tighten into Leo’s hair when his cock throbs suddenly too-hard, and
Eichi grunts as he shoves up when he pulls Leo down, burying himself entirely
down Leo’s twitching, spasming throat as he comes. He spills pulse after pulse
down his throat, not letting up until he feels himself drained dry, and even
then, he only pulls back enough that the head of his cock still rests on Leo’s
tongue, his fingers twisted up tightly into Leo’s hair. “Lick it clean,” he
orders breathlessly, slumping back against the tree.
Leo’s hands tremble as they move, wrapping around the base of Eichi’s cock,
holding it almost lovingly as he laves the head with shaky licks of his tongue,
laving it clean from root to tip. He finishes with a last suck to the slit,
until he’s certain that he’s swallowed every drop, then finally lets it slip
from between his lips. His face burns as he gasps for breath. “That was...I
shouldn’t do such things, I’m--that was...”
Eichi yanks him up, hauling Leo abruptly to his feet and shoving him back
against the tree instead. His fingers yank open Leo’s laces, grabbing at his
achingly hard cock as he sucks on the side of his neck, stroking him from root
to tip, squeezing him slowly. “How are you going to rule a country when you’re
obsessed with having my cock down your throat?” he breathes. “Whatever, it
doesn’t matter. I like you this way.”
Leo groans, clutching at Eichi’s shirt, rutting shamelessly up against his
hand. “Rather be on your cock,” he breathes. Even if it isn’t true all of the
time, it’s true now, when Eichi is touching him so beautifully. “Just--you p-
promised, please, I need--at least put your fingers in me, please, I’m empty--”
Eichi exhales a snort of amusement, and drags his hand away, shoving a pair of
fingers past Leo’s lips instead to twist them against his tongue, leaving them
slick and sticky by the time he pulls them away again. “Needy, aren’t you,” he
murmurs, yanking Leo’s breeches down until they pool about his ankles, and he
reaches back, sliding those two fingers against his still-slick hole before
letting them sink inside and press deep. His other hand drags up, pinching
Leo’s nipples through the fabric of his shirt. “Luckily, I think you’re cute.”
Leo licks his lips, the taste hot on his tongue, cock jolting harder at the
fingers inside him than they had at the hand around his cock. “Dunno...what
you’re doing to me,” he whispers, eyes rolling back in his head, squirming
down. “F-feels better...like this...than when you touch my cock...not sure what
I’m...turning into...”
“You’re my little pet, obviously.” Eichi twists his fingers, curling them
deeper, shoving them up slowly inside. Another tweak of a nipple makes Leo
clench even harder around him, and Eichi’s lips twitch as he rubs his fingers
slowly against that little spot inside of Leo that he knows very well by now.
Leo cries out, too-loud in the quiet night, spilling onto the ground when Eichi
plays him like a musical instrument, plucking his strings so well he shudders,
coming in long spurts that leave him feeling empty. He mewls, clutching at
Eichi, sweat dripping down the back of his neck. “I love being your pet,” he
confesses.
“Then aren’t you lucky that you don’t have much of a choice in the matter,”
Eichi sighs, pleased as he presses a kiss so the top of Leo’s head, slowly
pulling his fingers free. “This is troublesome, though,” he complains, huffily
tucking himself back into his own pants. “I can’t get anything done.”
“And I can’t think of anything else.” Leo snorts. “I almost understand why
someone would snap the bond.”
“Your half-breed should consider himself lucky,” Eichi sniffs, even as he wipes
Leo clean with a handkerchief and then laces him back up. “I didn’t snap his,
though. I’m not lying about that.”
“Is it really possible?” Leo asks with a frown, nuzzling against Eichi’s chest.
“Mm, I’m done walking, carry me back. Legs are noodles.”
“Of course it’s possible.” Eichi picks him up with a sigh, partially tossing
him over one shoulder. “With a deft hand, admittedly. I can only think of one
person with a hand that gentle, which is very…amusing.”
“It seems...wrong,” Leo mutters, reaching down to grab Eichi’s ass. “Ah, too
muscley. I thought anyone who had a bond would never want to snap one. Feel
like it would...feel like losing part of your soul. Don’t you think?”
“Don’t grab me. Well, I suppose I did threaten to use that little wizard to
torment him and turn the half-breed against all of them,” Eichi cheerfully
says, letting himself back into the inn and going straight up the stairs. “But
you’re right, I can’t imagine it feels pleasant to break someone else’s bond. I
tried, once, but didn’t get very far. I think it can only be done with very
thin, delicate ones. Oh well, not my problem.”
“I hate the way you talk about people like they’re playthings,” Leo grumbles.
“Except me. In a sex way. Ugh, do you think this is ever going to die down,
between us? Or like, calm down? A little? Ever? Even right now I want you in
me.”
“It would be good if it did,” Eichi grinds out, kicking open the door to their
room. “Because it’s obnoxious and distracting. Don’t say that again or
I’ll…I’ll…I don’t know, I’ll do something that isn’t sexual, I’m going to tie
you to the—no, that doesn’t work, damn it!”
“You could tie me up,” Leo says enthusiastically. “That sounds fun. What
position would you tie me into?”
“I just told you to stop.”
“Yeah, I’ve been bad. Spank me.”
Eichi’s teeth grit, and he tosses Leo down onto the bed. “This,” he flatly
says, “is maddening. Absolutely maddening. You’re very obvious which just
infuriates me more.”
Leo grins. “I know. It’s a lot funnier that I’m so obvious, to be honest. But
hey, if it helps, I’m just as affected as you. Whoever designed these resonant
bond things was weird.”
“No one designed them, they just happen.” Eichi throws himself down with a
huff, wrapping himself up in a blanket as a last ditch effort to protect
himself from Leo’s advances. “I think I prefer my manufactured one. It was
so…manageable.”
Leo rolls over, straddling Eichi, resting his arms on Eichi’s chest, his chin
on his folded arms. “But less fun, I think. Heh. Tell me I’m cute, at least.”
“You’re cute. And it makes me want to perish daily.”
Leo leans down, then presses a long kiss to Eichi’s lips, nibbling on his
bottom lip. “So, have you got a plan to keep me alive forever? You’re immortal,
right?”
Eichi just smiles at that, and he frees an arm to slowly stroke his fingers
through Leo’s hair. “There are plenty of ways to prolong life. Mm, which means
you can be mine forever, and have that throne for as long as you like, until
you’re sick of it.”
“Not going to lie, that sounds quite nice,” Leo says with a hum, laying his
head on Eichi’s chest. “You should listen to me more about...being good to
people things. I can make people like you. We could rule forever and make a
good country.”
“The problem with that is there are too many people alive right now that
dislike me, and I’d have to wipe the slate clean first, which means killing all
of them. That seems troublesome and also, the opposite of what you’d like for
me to do.”
Leo scowls. “Just because people dislike you doesn’t mean you have to kill
them. You can just outlive them, right? And if you keep doing good things for
the country, then the dissenters are the ones people are going to hate.”
Eichi heaves a sigh. “But sometimes, what I want to do doesn’t coincide with
your whole ‘good for the country’ idea, so that bothers me,” he says. “So. Mm.
We’ll just have to see.”
“That’s not a no,” Leo says, shrugging one shoulder. “And I suppose we have all
of our lives to talk about it. So for now, that sounds good. I’m convincing
when I need to be!”
Eichi’s eyes narrow. “If you try to pull that nonsense you did today in the
middle of the Capital when I’m trying to execute someone, I’ll make you regret
it.”
“Then you’d better only execute someone who deserves it,” Leo says, eyebrows
raised, “or be prepared to make me regret it more than I’d regret letting
someone die unjustly. You’re stuck with me, you know. You have to endure me for
a while.”
“And you’re stuck with me, so you might as well learn to be sweet and well-
behaved when the time calls for it.” Eichi rolls over, crushing him underneath
his weight. “Go to sleep or I’ll kill you myself.”
“And take you with me,” Leo reminds him sweetly, and closes his eyes.
***** Chapter 51 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
Izumi arrives back at the Capital shortly after dawn, and Tsumugi isn’t with
him.
Natsume doesn’t need to hear the explanation. He doesn’t want to, when none of
it will make him feel better. Certain parts of his prophecy have changed,
certainly, but it doesn’t seem to be changing the end result—Tsumugi dead by
the Emperor’s hand.
That’s how he finds himself on the stairs of Wataru’s tower, trembling as he
can’t quite bring himself to walk into the room itself and speak to him.
Instead, he sits on the stairs themselves, smoothing his dress over his legs.
The idea of talking to Rei about this sits ill with him, and Shu has nothing
else to add. Wataru is hardly any better, upsetting, not even close to
understanding, but at least here, he can linger and think about what he maybe
can do when the Emperor decides to arrive at the palace’s doorstep.
“Nightingale, O Nightingale,
 Thou Upon a Wing,
 Even In Your Gilded Cage
 Can No One Make You Sing?
 High Above the Clouded Skies,
 Facing Towards the Storm,
 Those Who’d Pull Apart Your Wings
 Are Feather’d In My Scorn.”
 “Still there, kitten? I can do another verse, if you like.”
Wataru’s voice is soft, sad, and clear from the top of the stairs, but no bells
ring when he speaks or sings.
Natsume huffs. He turns where he sits, scowling up towards the top of the
stairs for a moment before he slowly climbs to his feet, making his way up.
“Why are you so sad?” he mutters, letting himself in. “Your bond to him, it’s
almost gone. You don’t have to answer to him anymore, or do bad things in his
name, or…any of that.”
“Because where there was love, now there is more cold, when the rest of my
world has been cold for some time,” Wataru says, eyes not wavering from the
window. “And because I have tasted flight in my life, but for many months, have
lived between these walls, with no company nor audience that does not despise
me. Are you surprised I do not enjoy my prison, simply because it is full of
birds?”
“I did think you liked birds a lot,” Natsume admits, glancing down to pick at a
layer of lace that seems keen on attracting every soft, downy feather still
floating about in the room. He hesitates, and quietly says, “I don’t despise
you. You just…made me really upset. There’s a difference, Milord.”
“And you come to see me so rarely. Ah, nonetheless, I am pleased to see you.
Forgive me, my usual tricks elude me. I have so little energy these days.” A
bird flutters down to sit on Wataru’s shoulder, preening his hair.
“I stopped coming to see you because you said mean things. No one wants to sit
around and hear that.” Natsume frowns at him. “But the Emperor’s coming today,
and he’s going…he’s going to kill Tsumugi. I don’t know what to do.”
“Lilies are a classic choice for mourning, I believe.”
“This is why I didn’t come to see you anymore!” Natsume snaps, taking a furious
step forward and grabbing Wataru by the shirt. “That’s not something you say to
someone who’s upset, who’s hurting! Why are you like this, you didn’t used to
be, what did the Emperordo to you?”
Wataru doesn’t struggle, letting Natsume drag him around. “He opened my heart,”
he says, with the ghost of a smile. “Because I loved him. And he tied a string
to it, as surely as he tied those wings to my spine. And then, when he found
another, he left it to rot. So perhaps my heart is rotten. And all of my dear
friends despise me for that wound, isn’t that surprising?”
“So cry about it instead of being cruel to everyone else!” Natsume blinks hard,
and tears immediately spill, no matter how angry he feels. “You’re stupid, you
know? I love you, too, and you don’t even care. I t-thought—I still think that
you’re what wizards should be, that you’re the most a-amazing, and…” He
swallows, glancing down. “But you don’t care. Eichi’s terrible, but you still
only care about that.”
For the first time in long months, Wataru feels a hard twinge of guilt. He lays
his hands on Natsume’s, gripping them hard, any trace of a smile falling from
his face. “What do you want me to do?” he asks, then before Natsume can spit an
answer, adds, “I’m not being despondent. Do you want me to save him? I care
nothing for fate, I’ll gladly take his place.”
“No!” Natsume’s hands ball into fists, and he lets them thunk uselessly against
Wataru’s chest. “I d-don’t want you to die, either! I want…” He trembles,
shaking his head. “I don’t…I don’t know, I don’t want anyone to die, I don’t
know why he even wants to kill Tsumugi so badly, can’t you talk to him?”
“I’ve tried.” Wataru’s lips crack when he tries to smile, too-tight now that
they’re unused to the motion after months in the tower. “He doesn’t hear me. Or
he chooses not to. I think his true bonded burns so brightly in his vision he
doesn’t have the sight for anyone else.”
Natsume wavers for a moment long before giving up and lurching forward, burying
his face into Wataru’s chest, clinging to him tightly, his fingers fisting into
his hair. “I’ve tried to think of ways to make this stop,” he whispers.
“Different plans, anything Lord Rei or Lord Shu could do, but I…can’t. Every
vision I have is of Tsumugi dying. I’m…” He swallows. “I begged him to unseal
me, but I’m still useless. All I can think of is giving myself up to the
Emperor, and then, maybe…”
“It won’t work,” Wataru says softly, startled to feel how much he likes holding
Natsume, how unfamiliar that warmth feels against him. His arms go around that
slender body, pulling him tightly to his chest. “I promise you, that would not
work. He hates my predecessor far more than he could ever fear you, little
one.”
“I…I’m too scared to even try,” Natsume softly admits, hating every word of
that admission. His breath hiccups, and his fingers curl against Wataru’s back
before he stops short, sniffling. “S-sorry—sorry, I didn’t mean to grab there.
I’m not a coward, I’m not,” he adds, his voice wet, “but the Emperor…he’s
different, everything I’ve heard about him, I can’t believe someone would do
those things and now…”
“He isn’t evil the way you’re thinking,” Wataru says, stroking Natsume’s hair.
“I’ve seen evil. Ah, let me tell you a story, do you want to hear a story? It’s
the story of the Demon Lord of Achei, from long before you were born.”
Natsume nods, and laces his arms around Wataru’s neck instead, huddling against
his chest. “So long as it’s not a story that makes me want to feel better about
what the Emperor is doing.”
“No, no, he’s no part of this story. This is a story of the Demon Lord of
Achei, who lived in a remote village of the Shadowlands.” Wataru gathers
Natsume on his lap, voice lilting again, falling into a storyteller’s cadence.
“Long, long ago, there lived an ancient evil. His reign was small, just a few
thousand people, but Achei ruled them with an iron fist, so the story goes. His
sins were many--the village lived in everlasting darkness, the clouds above
Achei were red, and ash fell from a nearby volcano every day. The people had
toiled for centuries in service to Lord Achei. Sometimes one would escape, and
run to the larger cities, begging the other Demon Lords for help. No one ever
came, for a Demon Lord’s power is sacred to them, and they never give up what
they’ve achieved. They are demons, after all.
“For three hundred years, Achei kept to a tradition--at every new moon, he
would take the most beautiful maiden from the village, and have her for his
own. Each girl died, for the woman that can survive bearing a demon’s child is
a rare one indeed. One thousand women died before one child survived. Achei,
it’s said, held the baby in his arms, and became a changed man. He swore to
clean the air. He promised to scrub the fields of their ash, the sky of its
clouds. For ten years, the people of Achei had peace.
“Then the child died, and her mother, too. Achei went mad. The skies rained ash
and blood. He ordered every child in the city brought to his palace, convinced
that his daughter was not dead, but had switched places with a villager. Any
parents who tried to protect their own were thrown into the volcano. Any child
he decided was not his own was beheaded. Sometimes, he’d find a child he swore
was his own, and kept the child overnight, forcing toys upon them. But by the
morning, he was always disillusioned, and the child would die.
“This went on for nearly a month. Then he came upon a child he swore was his
own, and tried to play with him. The boy was young, perhaps six or seven, and
frightened, as all children are. But when Achei tried to play with him, the boy
challenged him to a game. They played, and Achei won. The prize was a story,
and a song. But the boy--ah, was he clever? Or was he foolish? Either way, he
told a story, and left off the end, then fell asleep just at dawn. Achei looked
at the boy’s sleeping face, and allowed him to live. The next night, they
played again, the boy lost, and the boy again told a story, for you see, his
parents, whom Achei had tossed into the volcano, had been minstrels. Was the
boy clever? Perhaps so, perhaps no, but he told stories for three years, and
during that time, no more children were killed.
“One day, without meaning to, the boy won the game. Achei told the boy that
he’d won--he could take his freedom. But the boy--was he clever, little one? Or
foolish? Either way, this boy did not take freedom. Either way, no other child
died in Achei until the boy was a grown man. But by then, Achei had tired of
his stories, and he banished the boy, who fled the Shadowlands. And when he
did, they say, as his last trick, this boy convinced Achei that his beloved
daughter was inside the volcano, and he only had to jump in to find her. And
the village of Achei has blue skies and clean air. 
“And what became of the boy? Ah, well, what do you think, little one?”
Natsume curls up into a ball, tucking his legs underneath his skirts as he
burrows his way into Wataru’s chest. “No one else tells a story like you do,”
he softly says. “So he’s you, here now, and making me wonder why you could live
through that and still watch your Emperor go so mad with power.”
“Because once you’ve spent your childhood with the Lord of Achei,” Wataru says
softly, stroking Natsume’s hair, “your eyes are accustomed to darkness, and
seeing a man made of light blinds you. And when he sings to you and gives you
wings, and binds his own heart to yours, you may...take a few years to think
that such a man is worth stopping. I am quite as weak as anyone, little one.
And quite as blind. And I...wanted so badly to believe I’d found the shining
palace I’d always dreamed of. It was easy to think that if I just...followed
him, if I helped him, that eventually, everyone would see what I saw, and there
would be peace, and beauty, and no ash anywhere.”
Natsume says nothing for a moment, until he turns his face back into Wataru’s
chest, pulling some of that long, silvery-blue hair over his shoulder to
distractedly braid it. “But that’s wrong now, and you know it,” he says. “Even
if he loves you, he can’t help but be with someone else, and he’s…he’s always
done terrible things.” He sniffles, his fingers trembling as he braids. “It’s,
it’s not like I don’t know what you mean. Lord Rei, he frightens me, too, but I
still want to believe in him. I just think the Emperor is so much worse, and I
don’t want to lose you again. I don’t want you to forget me again.”
“I won’t,” Wataru promises, and his smile starts to feel more familiar, more
natural now, molding into his face like one of his favorite masks. “Looking
upon you is one of my few joys in life, you know! Ah, if you’re going to bring
me back from the brink of depression, you’re going to have to give me an order.
On my own, I’ll do what makes the best story, in the end.”
Natsume tilts his head back to look up at him, studying Wataru’s face before he
scowls, and releases his hair to lift up both hands and squish Wataru’s cheeks
between them. “First, no more moping. That’s a lady’s order. Second, promise me
you’ll at least ask the Emperor to stop, when he comes here. Third…” He
hesitates, glancing down again. “If you can, point me in the direction of how
he made your wings. I’ll remake them myself, if I have to.”
Wataru blinks, somewhat taken aback, and smiles. “A good set of orders, and
even in a numerical sequence! Amazing! Ah, you do my heart such good, little
one, I’ll do as you command. I’ll do anything within my power to stop Eichi
from executing my predecessor. As for the wings--what do you need? I remember
quite well how they were made, but my fingers lack the skill.”
“If it’s any kind of magic, I can do it,” Natsume firmly says, with far more
confidence than he really should have about that sort of thing. “Then you can
fly again, and not be stuck here once I convince Lord Rei to let you out.”
“I truly hope he lets me out someday,” Wataru says wistfully, watching one of
his birds flutter out the window. “Remember what I said about Demon Lords.”
“He’s not like that.” Natsume buries his face into the side of Wataru’s neck.
“I’ll make him let you out today, or I’ll break all the things keeping you here
myself. But…you have to be good. You’re not allowed to go back with the
Emperor.”
“Sweet child,” Wataru says softly, sliding his arm around Natsume’s waist.
“Anyone can be like that. I’ve seen good men cause such grief, when power has
changed them...but yes, yes, I won’t go back to Eichi’s service. That verse in
my story has passed, and there is no repeat nor coda.”
“Lord Rei isn’t like that,” Natsume repeats, shutting his eyes as he shoves his
hands back into Wataru’s hair, holding onto it. “Now promise that you won’t go
back to the Emperor, or I won’t believe you.”
“Promise? No, no, little one, you want me to swear.”
Wataru summons a rose from the air, then swiftly drags the thorns over his
palm, letting blood drip to the floor. “I swear to you. I’ll act in your
interests over his, so long as you don’t cast me aside.”
The sight of blood makes Natsume flinch, but he gingerly reaches forward,
wrapping his fingers around the rose, squeezing until his own blood drips down
as he stares up at Wataru. “Then I swear I won’t cast you aside,” he says.
“Ever. There, now it’s even, isn’t it?”
“That’s a terrible oath to take,” Wataru whispers. “Ah, then how will I know
that you truly want me around, and you aren’t just bound by it?”
“Because I already missed you.” Natsume pouts up at him. “If I wanted to see
you again after so long, and then you were mean to me, and I’m still coming
back, that should tell you something, shouldn’t it?”
“Stop pouting, silly thing,” Wataru murmurs, quite taken aback by the way his
heart thuds. He squishes Natsume’s cheeks, then leans down and presses a kiss
to his forehead, surprising even himself. “Go now, you’ll miss breakfast. Tell
Lord Rei of your new delightful resolution.”
Natsume huffs at him, and slides out of his lap, neatly wiping his bloodied
hand onto Wataru’s shirt. “You can have that,” he says, offering Wataru a brisk
curtsy before flouncing to the door. “And I’ll tell him quite a bit. Just don’t
forget what you said!”
“Curtsy for me again when you return, and I’ll remember whatever you wish,
little one!”
***** Chapter 52 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
Izumi doesn’t make it past breakfast before he can’t stop himself.
Makoto hasn’t said a single word to him. Izumi supposes he can’t blame him;
even being in the same room with Makoto makes him itch, makes him restless, and
he finally can’t keep his mouth shut.
So, he sits down next to Makoto while everyone else they know argues or plays
catch up, and he tries not vibrate out of his skin. If the bond is broken,
shouldn’t he want less of Makoto, in theory? He feels far more obsessed than he
ever was before, when the bond was supposedly intact. “How are you feeling?”
Izumi quietly asks. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
Makoto looks over at him, and nods, anxiety suffusing him, chewing slowly on
his food. His eyes are haunted, but he forces a little smile, swallowing his
food with a gulp. “Sorry, I was eating. Ah, thank you for the food, by the
way.”
“Don’t thank me, I’m not the king,” Izumi grouses, and he leans forward in his
seat. “In hindsight, I suppose we should’ve known,” he half-jokes, because he
has to, or he’ll start going crazy again. “Northerners stick together.”
“Oh?” That makes sense. Makoto’s smile is a little less guarded this time.
“Very good. You’re not very hairy, you know. Most Northerners are.”
“Yeah, I know. And neither are you, I know this intimately,” Izumi deadpans. He
shifts again, frustrated. Is he the only one affected? That can’t be right,
that can’t be how this works. “You don’t have to pretend like it wasn’t there,”
he finally settles upon. “I know we weren’t exactly lovers, but that doesn’t
mean I’m interested in going back on my promise to protect you.”
“Oh, from last night?” Makoto asks, taking another bite of his breadroll. “Ah,
I didn’t really hear you, anyway, so don’t worry, I won’t hold you to it.”
“No, you idiot. From High Harbor. You know, you being so nonchalant about this
is really starting to bother me.”
“Um, sorry.” Makoto wracks his mind for any time he’d met this man in High
Harbor, and comes up empty. “Ah, sorry, were you in another wagon, or
something? I thought you rode up to meet us yesterday.”
Izumi stares back at him, his brow furrowing in frustration. “Are you fucking
with me?” he finally settles upon. “That’s not cute right now, Yuukun.” 
“S-sorry,” Makoto stammers, flinching back. “Um, but that’s...my name is
Makoto.”
“Yes, I know your name is Makoto, I’m calling you by the name I called you when
we were children and I wasn’t allowed to play with commoners,” Izumi snaps,
lurching forward to grab one of Makoto’s hands. “You remember that, don’t you?
You were my only friend—I used to make you skip out on all of your kitchen
duties to go play with me. You were my first kiss—I know you remember.”
Makoto frowns, and takes his hand carefully out of Izumi’s. “Um...ah, it’s been
a long time since I was a child...was, um, were your parents in Lady Sena’s
service?”
“Lady Sena is my mother—I’m the Sena heir, how could you forget that?!” Izumi
snatches Makoto’s hand back, pulling him close. “Yuukun—you remember me, don’t
you?” he demands.
Makoto tries to pull back, but Izumi is too strong, and he starts to sweat
nervously. “Um, ah, sorry, I don’t. Lady Sena...had a son, but...I don’t think
I ever met you before, sir, I’m sorry.”
“To hell with that, yes you did! You did more than meet me, you—“
“Makoto, is everything all right?” It’s Mao, apparently only in the palace
today to discuss the possibility of Keito’s release in light of Eichi arriving
within the day, and he smiles tensely as he takes Makoto by the shoulders.
“Izumi, calm down.”
Izumi’s chest heaves, and his fingers tremble as he clings to Makoto’s hands.
“Like hell I’ll calm down. The Emperor did something to him, he—“
“It’s a result of the bond breaking. C’mon, let him go.”
“No! No, Yuukun, he’s—I swore to keep him safe, and I fucked up, the least I
can do now is—“
“Come here,” Mao mutters, grabbing Makoto and forcibly pulling him away, which
might be the wrong choice as Izumi lunges after him, knocking Mao flat onto his
back. “If you pull out a dagger this time, I swear to god,” he hisses through
his teeth, hands up in immediate surrender.
“He doesn’t need to.”
Ritsu lifts Izumi by the back of the neck, then slams him into the wall,
yawning. “Don’t touch him, he’s mine.”
“Then tell him not to touch what’s mine!” Izumi snarls, lurching against
Ritsu’s hold. “Yuukun, it’s okay—I promise, I won’t let the Emperor hurt you
again, I promise—“
Mao climbs back to his feet, shaking his head. “What do you even do about
something like this?” he mutters, turning back to Makoto. “It’s okay, Makoto.
You didn’t do anything wrong, this isn’t your fault.”
“Why doesn’t he remember me? Yuukun—Yuukun, please—“
Makoto shuffles nervously behind Mao, avoiding Izumi’s eyes. “Why’s he calling
me that?” he whispers, though not so quietly that Izumi won’t be able to hear
him. “He says he knows me, does he know me?”
Ritsu lets his nails dig in, eyes darkening. “Beating him up won’t help, calm
down. Maao, you know what’s going on?”
Izumi’s eyes prick with frustrated tears, and he grabs at Ritsu’s wrists, his
own nails digging in. “I wasn’t going to beat him up, I just want him to pay
attention to me, damn it, Ritsu, let me go!”
“Yes, I know what’s going on.” Mao keeps himself as a barrier between Makoto
and Izumi. “Izumi, your bond wasn’t broken evenly. They never are, when it
happens.”
“I don’t care, what the fuck’s that got to do with anything?”
Ritsu clicks his tongue sadly. “Bonds aren’t meant to be broken. It leaves a
scar. Looks like it took Makoto’s memory. Looks like it took your gods-damned
sanity.”
“Bond?” Makoto asks nervously. “What...?”
Mao wavers, unsure if it’s kinder to explain it further, or to better help
Makoto forget. One look at Izumi, however, makes it apparent that forgetting
isn’t an option. “A resonant bond,” he quietly says. “You shared one with
Izumi. But it was broken…somehow. In your case, very little of the residual
bond went to you, while the rest went to him—that’s why you can’t remember
him.”
“This isn’t fair!” Izumi protests, staring at Ritsu, wild-eyed. “I’ll make him
remember, he has to remember something.”
“I--I can’t have had a resonant bond with him,” Makoto protests, clinging to
Mao’s sleeve. “I’ve never even met him before, I think I’d remember having
something so important!”
“Yeah, being around him isn’t going to help right now,” Ritsu grunts, and gets
an arm around Izumi’s waist, dragging him away, out of the room. “You’re gonna
need to calm down. Yeah--it’s bad, it’s really, really bad, but freaking out
won’t help.”
“How can I calm down?!” Tears streak freely down Izumi’s face, and he lunges
against Ritsu’s hold a few more times before giving up, going limp, trembling,
clinging to him. “Ritsu—Ritsu, this isn’t fair, why can’t he remember anything?
E-even if it broke unevenly or whatever, he should still remember some of me,
right? What can I do to make him remember, I’ll do whatever I have to!”
“Why?” Ritsu demands. “What if remembering you only hurts him? Would you still
want him to? Knowing that there’s no fixing a severed bond?”
Izumi’s chest heaves. “Who says it has to hurt him? What if…what if it fixes
everything if he remembers? I…I don’t know, maybe it will.”
“Izumi...” Ritsu shakes his head slowly. “It’s like...ugh, let me explain. It’s
like if you have two posts, and a rope stretched between them, right? And
someone cuts it. Now fix the rope--but you can’t untie it from either end, or
add more material.”
“Easy. Move the two posts closer together.” Izumi lunges against Ritsu’s hold
again. “So let me back in there with him.”
Ritsu stares at him for a moment, then lets go. “I mean, there’s nothing I can
really do about it to stop you...you’re just gonna scare him, though.”
Izumi leaps away from him, stumbling back into the room, where Mao greets him
with a dagger already pointed into his face, shoving Makoto behind himself.
“No,” Mao says, as if scolding a dog to get down. “Absolutely not.”
Izumi seems unfazed. “Yuukun, please, just let me talk to you, I swear you’ll
start remembering everything.”
“Ritsu, what the hell. Come get him!”
“Don’t wanna, it makes me sad,” Ritsu says with a yawn, heading away. “Going to
bed.”
“Um, can I go?” Makoto asks, nervous. “I was told I’d get to speak to Lord Rei
soon...”
“I’ll go with you to speak to Lord Rei,” Mao grinds out, irritated beyond
belief. “Back off, Izumi. You’re scaring him, if you give a damn you can see
that.”
Izumi hesitates visibly, then takes a begrudging step back, worrying at his
lower lip with his teeth. “I’ll find you later, Yuukun,” he eagerly says.
“Just—trust me, it’ll be fine, all right?”
“Come on, Makoto.” Mao pulls him along, dagger still firmly in hand. “That’s
enough of this.”
“What does he want from me?” Makoto asks, following Mao, chewing his lip in
worry. “Was he really my childhood friend? Ah, I feel bad if he really knows
me...”
“He was,” Mao says, leading him along down the winding halls. “But it isn’t
your fault that you don’t remember him. Your bond to him was cut, Makoto. Be
polite to him, but don’t feel like you’re obligated to…do anything.” He
hesitates, then adds, “If you want me to tell you anything about how your
relationship was with him before, I will. It was my job to be unbiased for
years, I can keep doing that now.”
Makoto’s lips purse with worry, and his steps hasten to keep up with Mao. “Did
I love him?” he asks, unable to keep himself from asking. “I know we had a
bond, but--were we lovers? He seemed so upset...”
“I don’t know if you loved him,” Mao answers honestly. “But…what I do know is
that you cared quite a bit about him. At one point, he was injured very
terribly, and you snuck him out of your research facility to hide him in your
assigned quarters.” His expression is wry. “And while I wouldn’t use the word
‘lovers’…I know you two slept together, at least once.”
Makoto groans, rubbing his face with his hands, then taking off his spectacles
to clean them on his shirt. “I remember, uh, sleeping with someone. But I don’t
remember who it was, it’s...it’s all very blurry. This is awful, I feel
terrible. Maybe Lord Rei can give my memories back?”
“Somehow, I doubt that,” Mao mutters, but bites his tongue. “Makoto, again,
this isn’t your fault. I know you feel bad about this, but there’s honestly no
reason to try and force yourself to remember something just because he’s
unhappy. He’s like this because the bond snapped and recoiled far more into
him—it’s not necessarily because he was so involved with you. The broken magic
is making him like this.”
“Oh. Then...it’s not anything I did?” Makoto sighs. “That’s a relief. I hope
that guy does feel better soon, though.”
Mao opens and shuts his mouth, and shakes his head, pulling Makoto along.
Rei’s throne room is currently occupied, but Mao pays it no mind. Rei, on his
throne, flanked by Shu, looks currently very tired and not entirely approving
of what Natsume is saying to him.
“You have to set him free. He promised—no, he swore to me that he’d—“
“Natsume,” Rei wearily says, holding up a hand. “The idea of letting Wataru run
rampant right now, when the Emperor is approaching—“
“He might be able to talk to him!” Natsume insists, hands balled at his sides.
“Lord Rei, please.”
“…I’ll think about it.” Rei turns his gaze to Mao. “Oh, hello—and Makoto, what
a delight that you’re in such good shape. I wanted to speak to you, about
Eichi’s plans—“
“I’m going to go break those shields myself,” Natsume threatens, picking up his
skirts to stalk from the room more quickly, his heels clicking against the
floor. “You just wait, you trained me, you know what I can do!”
The door slams shut behind him, and Rei’s smile twitches. “Anyway.”
“Hello, Lord Rei,” Makoto says with a little smile, bowing his head. “Ah,
something a bit weird happened--it looks like...sorry, Mao, can you explain?
I’m still not quite sure what happened.”
Mao’s jaw is tense. “He’s talking about his bond, Excellency,” he says. “Or
rather, the lack thereof.”
Rei exhales a slow breath, sitting back with his hands on his knees. “Ahh.
That. My apologies, Makoto. I’m afraid there’s nothing that can be done about
it. I’m glad to see it isn’t affecting you too badly, as magical scarring can
be a little…”
“He’s lost all of his memories of the Sena heir,” Mao interjects. “And wants to
know if there’s something to be done to remedy it.”
“Not that I’m aware of, but it’s been some time since a case like this has
become any wizards.” Rei’s eyes lid. “My apologies, again.”
Makoto shrugs. “That’s all right. Ah, I never even knew they could snap--but
weirder, I never even knew I had one! And now I can’t remember him, so it
doesn’t really feel like I’m missing anything. Anyway, is there anything you
need from me here in the Capital? I’m only a Dawncloak, but I’ll try to do what
I can.”
Rei shakes his head, his expression unchanging. “You’re more than welcome to
return to the Academy, if you like, as we’re in the process of reorganizing the
research division—but I do want to know if you caught wind of anything Eichi is
planning during your capture, other than, well. Apparently, Tsumugi’s
execution. Did he say he wanted anything in exchange for his life?”
Makoto shakes his head. “No, that was what me and Subaru were for. Lord
Tsumugi...the Emperor just hates him. He liked to do things to him. Not...kind
things. Apparently he has some plans in store for Lady Natsume, he used to say
things like, ‘Oh, if you do this kind of thing, I won’t do something horrible
to Natsume,’ that sort of thing.”
“I see.” Rei exhales a short breath. “Then he’s as expected still. Thank you,
Makoto. You can go.”
“That doesn’t mean we aren’t still going to—“
“We’re going to offer hostages in exchange, yes,” Rei firmly says, cutting Mao
off. “Even though Eichi is clearly as unstable as he’s always been.”
A sudden, loud explosion rocks the entire palace, and Rei sighs, shutting his
eyes as he flops backwards. “Oh, to be that young again…“
“You couldn’t’ve just let the Faerie free?” Mao wearily asks. “Now you’re down
a tower.”
“I wanted to see how serious he was. He’s cute, that one.”
Makoto squeaks, and ducks behind Mao. “Is it war?” he asks nervously. “Is the
Emperor here already?”
“No, it’s just Natsume,” Mao says with a sigh, patting Makoto’s arm. “He let
the Faerie out. Remember, Nightcloaks are rather volatile. No disrespect meant,
of course, Excellency,” he adds too-sweetly.
“Well, ah, please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” Makoto
says awkwardly, eyes darting around to find the source of the explosions.
“Maybe I’d...be better off helping Mao with what he needs? Assuming you, uh,
need something?”
“Have a nice day, Excellency,” Mao says, taking Makoto by the arm to pull him
from the room. “The sooner you’re out of the Capital, the better,” he firmly
says. “This is too many Nightcloaks in one place, too much potential for
disaster, definitely too many birds…”
“Birds are kind of scary,” Makoto agrees, “but not as scary as dogs? M-maybe I
can go back to the Academy, I hope my research lab is still all right...”
“I’m sure it is,” Mao reassures him. “If you want—actually, no, this is
happening, it’s for the best. I’ll get you a horse and an escort, and you can
head out by the afternoon, back to the Academy.” He squeezes Makoto’s
shoulders. “If that’s what you want. There’s no point in you staying here where
it isn’t safe.”
“Just let me know if there’s anything I need to do, and I will,” Makoto assures
him. “Who’s running the Academy right now? Oh, where’s Keito?”
“The Demon King is. From here. And Keito…” Mao sighs. “Is in the dungeons,
because he refused, officially, to side with Lord Rei.”
Makoto grimaces. “Is that...one of the hostages Lord Rei was talking about? Um,
not that it’s really any of my business.”
“One of them…with the other being His Excellency Tori.” Mao winces. “If that
doesn’t sway the Emperor, honestly, nothing will.”
Makoto looks around, then whispers, “The fact that Lord Rei didn’t just
automatically kill him means that he’s never had to spend time with him. Sorry,
that’s mean, but....”
“Nope, agreed, completely agreed. I’ve been bringing him better meals since he
was stashed in the dungeons, even, and he’s still mean as a snake. Likes to
call me a traitor, as if that’s anything new.” Mao rolls his eyes. “You would
think this would experience would humble him, but no. Not in the slightest.”
Makoto grimaces. “If it helps, I don’t think you’re a traitor! You’ve always
been really nice to me. Ah, I should get out of your way, I guess. I don’t
exactly have things to pack, so I guess just...show me where to stand until
someone tells me where to go?”
“Considering Tori is still entirely loyal to the Emperor…then yes, I’m very
much a traitor.” Mao’s smile is wry. “Whatever. C’mon, I’ll get you a horse and
send you on your way.” The sooner he’s away from not only the Emperor, but the
possibility of Izumi being at his throat again, the better.
Rubble isn’t always Wataru’s favorite way to make an entrance, but he’d be
lying if he said it didn’t have its appeal. He steps over the discarded ruins
of what was once a quite fine tower, birds resting on every part of his arms,
head, and shoulders, and breathes in deeply. “Ah, haha! Amazing! Even with all
the windows open, the air never tasted fresh. Go, my lovelies, I’ll meet you at
the roosting tree later. Come if I’m not there by sundown.”
They fly off as if they truly understood all of that speech, and Wataru turns
to Natsume, beaming. “You’re truly letting me make an impression on you--that
was amazing! And very theatrical!”
Natsume coughs, waving away some of the dust, and frowning thoroughly at the
fine layer of it that coats his dress from head to toe. “Lord Rei told me he’d
think on setting you free,” he sniffs. “Which I didn’t care for, so I told him
I’d let you out myself. My apologies if something valuable of yours blew up,
but those wards were tough.”
“Not tough enough to stand up to the best pupil I’ve ever had,” Wataru says
merrily. “Now I wish I had my old cloaks, or at least my wings. I would so love
to make a grand entrance in front of Rei, and I fear I look quite shabby.”
Natsume carefully picks his way over the rubble, and takes Wataru’s hand,
pulling him forward. “You can wear the cloak you gave to me,” he says, peering
up at him with too-large golden eyes. “It’s in my room. I also bullied Lord Shu
into showing me the magic books that the Emperor must’ve read to help create
your wings. I’m already designing them, but they won’t be ready for a bit. I’m
sorry.”
“Amazing! You truly are the brightest student I’ve ever had. No doubt you’ll
surpass me in no time at all, I simply cannot wait!” Wataru follows happily,
but points out, “My darling boy, I can very much make my own cloak, I just
wanted dramatic flair. Like so!”
Just like that, the shadows of the room leap from their corners and crannies,
wrapping around Wataru, forming into a Nightcloak. “Of course, if we were to
undergo any sort of magical purge, I would be left quite naked. But my nude
form is also something glorious to behold!”
Natsume blinks rapidly, and reaches out, tugging at the new Nightcloak as if to
make sure it’s actually solid. “That’s…so fascinating,” he breathes, his eyes
alight. “Ah, but, you should still wear mine, just in case the Emperor decides
to do something to your magic or something,” he grumpily says. “He’s not
allowed to see you naked anymore, that’s the rule.”
“I don’t remember that rule. Ah, but I’m sure you’re right! I do tend to
neglect these sorts of rules, anyway.” Wataru smiles, and leans down, murmuring
in Natsume’s ear, rumbling as low as his voice will go, “You just keep telling
me who can and can’t have access to my nude body, hmm?”
Natsume’s face flushes, and on reflex, he lifts a hand and slaps Wataru right
across the cheek. “Ah—sorry! Sorry! Reflex, reflex, a lot of dirty old men hit
on me, and—w-what kind of question was that, anyway?!”
Wataru laughs, and a hint of bells follows the sound for the first time in
months. “It was for your reaction, of course! And what a beautiful one it was!”
A huff follows that, and Natsume gingerly reaches up, touching the brilliantly
red handprint left behind. “If you want a good reaction, don’t say dirty things
like that,” he mumbles. “Come along, I’m dressing you properly.”
Wataru follows gleefully, adding, “I prefer a good reaction, but I’ll settle
for a big reaction. Preferably, it will be an amazing reaction!”
“This is better behavior already,” Natsume says, walking ahead of him and
tossing his hair back over his shoulder. “It’s much better when you aren’t
moping,very good.”
He leads Wataru straight to his bedroom and unfolds the cloak in question from
where it sits at his bedside. “It’s only fitting that you have this one,” he
says. “When you gave it to me, I…” He flushes, glancing aside. “I was really
happy, I never wanted you to leave.”
“And I never wanted to leave you, little one,” Wataru murmurs, tucking
Natsume’s head into the breadth of his chest, before he shakes his head. “I’m
sorry, I can’t take it. I gave it to you, after all. I’d feel wrong taking it
back when the only place I want to see it is around your shoulders.”
“…then don’t let the Emperor do anything stupid, like strip you,” Natsume
mumbles into Wataru’s chest, burying his face there promptly. “It’s way too big
for me still, but I like that.”
“Really? I charmed it so that it would become whatever size you chose.” Wataru
taps under Natsume’s chin, brimming with energy now that he’s free, cheek still
stinging. “Perhaps you like wearing it large?”
Natsume blinks, then feels his face get hot all over again. “Maybe I just liked
it the way it was and I didn’t want to change it, that’s all,” he huffs. “You
know, if you didn’t want to leave me, you shouldn’t’ve.”
“And the Emperor would have come to see where his favorite toy had gone,”
Wataru reminds him gently. “Besides, do you want me to have known you as a
child, or now as an adult? Now I can take you seriously!”
Natsume makes a face. “Gross. Fair enough. I’m almost seventeen,” he says, as
if that’s something to be pleased about. “There’s never been a Nightcloak as
powerful as I am at this age, right?”
Wataru beams. “I have no idea! It’s an odd system anyway, do you not think? How
does one measure who’s more powerful, a conjurer or a seeker, a conflagration
or a spout? Which is stronger, the ocean or the night sky? An absurd question!”
“You’re supposed to praise me, and say yes. Lord Shu always says I’m the best,
and he’s very arrogant, so it must be true.”
“Well!” Wataru turns, takes Natsume by the shoulders, and looks into his eyes.
“I have lived far, far longer than he,” he says seriously, “in many places,
under many rulers. And I have never even heard of a Seer as powerful as you,
little one. I am flattered to be in your presence, and humbled to be your
teacher.”
Natsume fidgets, as pleased as he is vaguely disheartened. “I wish it were a
better thing to be known for,” he says wearily. “I feel like the only thing
it’s good for is making people unhappy,or binding them to their fates.” He
reaches out, hesitates, then gingerly runs his fingers down Wataru’s back. “I
saw your wings before they were even there. I thought maybe I saw the ones the
Emperor put on you, but maybe they were mine.”
“It still hurts,” Wataru says, smiling. “But less when you do it than when
anyone else does. What design will you use, hmm? What color? I don’t mind being
dyed in your colors.”
“Ah, sorry, I won’t touch,” Natsume murmurs, pulling his hand back. “You
should…maybe you should let Lord Izumi heal you completely, before I try to put
new ones on. As for the design, you don’t get to know yet, it’s a surprise.”
Wataru catches Natsume’s hand, not letting him pull away. “It hurts less when
you don’t touch it,” he says, though it isn’t true, and he doesn’t even know
why he’s saying it.
Natsume frowns, his brow knitting. “Are you sure?” he presses, though he
gingerly reaches back around, carefully splaying his fingers against Wataru’s
back. “I’m sorry Lord Shu had to do this. Mmm, it’s weird, not to see you
fluttering off somewhere.”
“You only saw me with them once,” Wataru says with a laugh, eyes glinting when
Natsume’s fingers drag over the still-raw edges of where he’d been flayed open.
The wounds don’t heal normally, not even close, but that’s the mark of powerful
magic. “Perhaps you’ve just imagined me coming to see you so many times?”
“…Maybe,” Natsume begrudgingly admits, his cheeks turning pink. “It just
doesn’t seem like you, without the wings. Ah, there’s so much heat here still,
you really should let someone look at this. I know they’re magic wounds, but
still…”
“I can endure them,” Wataru says gently, taking Natsume’s hand in both of his,
squeezing it gently. “Perhaps it’s my penance, for doing as the Emperor bid for
so long.”
The touch of Wataru’s hands around his own suddenly, suddenly, and very
unfairly, make something that isn’t now flash before Natsume’s eyes. Those same
hands, pinning his wrists above his head, splaying over his thighs, spreading
them, leaving faint bruises in their wake, that curtain of shimmering, silvery-
blue hair draped around them—
Natsume’s face slowly colors, deepening to a red almost as brilliant as his
hair as he tries to process, and just settles for an awkward squeak for a
moment. “I—u-um, yes, maybe, ah—“
Wataru blinks, then releases Natsume’s hands, reaching up to cup his face
instead. “Did I overstep, do you think? Ah, I long to be too much to handle,
but I do so hate to fluster on accident.”
If possible, Natsume’s face just goes redder, if only because the way Wataru’s
hands feel on his skin mirrors exactly the way it felt in the vision that has
yet to entirely fade. “I—no, it’s—nothing! Nothing, nothing at all, I
just—um…things…weird visions, I…”
“Ah. Those pesky visions again. You do,” Wataru teases, tapping the tip of
Natsume’s nose, “look like a cat who’s had a feather tickled in front of him,
when you have those. Did you know? It’s adorable, makes me want to tease you
for hours.”
Natsume exhales an embarrassed, strangled sound, and pulls back, clapping his
hands to his own cheeks, feeling how hot they burn underneath his own touch.
“Don’t say things like that,” he bemoans. “I don’t need this right now, I have
to focus, this isn’t helpful.”
Wataru pulls back, frowning. “You don’t usually pull away from my touches.
Well. Very well.” He draws back into himself, the light in his eyes going
chilly. “Perhaps you’re right. I should go speak to Rei. You stay here
and...focus.”
“No no no no, it’s not your fault, it’s not!” Natsume hurriedly insists,
lurching forward to latch onto Wataru’s arm again, all but burying himself back
into his chest. His own heart thumps too-loud, and he trembles a little on his
feet. “I just saw…s-something embarrassing, that’s all, and it’s…” His voice
drops. “It’s hard to tell if it’s a vision or just—something I want. It gets
confusing, sometimes, so I…”
Wataru stops, his own emotions in a swirl. He gently raises a hand, stroking
Natsume’s hair. “I can’t help you with what only you can see, you know. Even
someone as great as I, can only see what my eyes can relay. Ah, little one...if
I could take those powers from you, I would lift that burden that causes you
such distress.”
Natsume huffs at that, butting his burning face against Wataru’s chest. It is,
unfortunately, as solid and well-muscled as every bit of his vision likes to
remind him. “I don’t need you to take them from me,” he murmurs. “I can handle
it. I just hate it when they get weird. Nnn, forget it, princess carry me off
to Lord Rei, I want to be there when you speak to him so I know he’s not being
bad.”
“As Milady wishes.”
Wataru scoops Natsume easily, despite a throbbing pain in his back, but that’s
a constant anyway. “You don’t weigh anything at all, what aren’t they feeding
you? It’s little birds that are supposed to survive on seeds, you know! Kittens
are supposed to eat fat mice.”
Natsume snorts, lacing his arms around Wataru’s neck. “I eat plenty. Lots of
meat. You know, cats eat birds, too.”
“Ah, but don’t you think it would take a lion to catch a falcon?” Wataru asks
merrily, striding into the throne room. “Rei, my dear friend! Our conversation
is long overdue, is it not? Forgive my brief absence, I was quite improperly
clad for a daring and amazing escape!”
“I bet I could still eat you,” Natsume lowly contemplates, eyes narrowing as he
pokes Wataru’s neck, then tangles his hands up into Wataru’s hair, entrenching
himself there much like a cat that’s found a ball of yarn.
Rei stares at this over laced fingers, wondering what sort of conversation he
just ended up falling in the middle of. “…Understandable, I suppose,” he
finally manages. “I’m glad to see that you seem well, Wataru.”
“An illusion, but a durable one,” Wataru assures Rei with a smile, setting
Natsume down on his feet. “Out of the crossfire, little one, he may want to
blast me. Well, old friend! What now? Shall I be thoroughly chastised, and back
to my cage? Or will you finally make use of your captive prize?”
“You’re not allowed to blast him,” Natsume swiftly says. He detaches himself
from Wataru, but he doesn’t move from in front of him, glaring up at Rei. “I’ll
take responsibility for him.”
“I have no intention of raising a hand against you, Wataru. And you’ve made
quick work of demolishing your cage, haven’t you, with the help of our little
cat?” Rei sighs, his eyes lidding. “I suppose it comes down to—what are your
plans? You know Eichi is coming. Are you going to join him? Or side with us?”
“I don’t know if you’ll even believe me,” Wataru says with a theatrical sigh,
“but I care nothing for my own self-preservation. For what it’s worth, I
am...well. As long as Natsume is on your side, so am I. I’ve given him my
loyalty.”
“I told you he swore to me,” Natsume insistently says, folding his arms over
his chest. “Lord Rei, you used to trust him. You trusted him with me.”
“Yes, I did.” After a pause, Rei lifts a hand, fluttering a weary hand. “Fine.
Then your job in all of this, my friend, is to keep our Natsume safe. I won’t
ask anything else of you.” I know it can’t be easy, to go up against him now.
Wataru bows, low and effusive, and lets out a sigh of relief. “That...yes. That
I can do, and gladly. Thank you, my friend. I will gleefully die before
allowing any harm to come to him.”
“No, you’re not allowed to die,” Natsume firmly protests, latching onto
Wataru’s hair and pulling again. “That’s not part of this!”
“Your keeper seems to think otherwise,” Rei drawls, leaning to the side, chin
in one hand. “But I’ll let you two sort that out between the two of you.”
Wataru, won’t you come greet me?
The whisper, albeit targeted towards Wataru specifically, slips through Rei’s
mind as well—deliberate, undoubtedly, which makes his teeth grit and back
straighten. “Remember what I asked of you,” he lowly warns, rising from his
throne and sweeping his cloak firmly about himself. “And what Natsume asked of
you. Meet in the courtyard, I’m going to fetch something he wants.”
***** Chapter 53 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
“It’s cold.”
“Yes, the North typically is. Unpleasant, I know, but we’re almost in for the
evening.”
Mao huffs, and his breath escapes out white. It’s not as snowy as one would
expect the North to be—he’s heard a few stories about it in his five years of
life—but it’s still cold in early fall, with frost coating every spare inch of
ground. He clings to Rei’s gloved hand, his own firmly stuffed into knitted
mittens as Rei leads him along from where they’ve stabled their horses for the
night.
It’s not an inn they stop at, but instead, a building separate from the rest,
built of grey stone—and labeled quite clearly as the Academy Outpost. It looks
colder inside, even with flickering candlelight from one of the windows, and
Mao waits skeptically, steeling himself and rubbing at his nose to make it stop
dripping as Rei pulls him up the stairs and knocks on the door.
“Don’t worry,” Rei reassures him, as if he can hear how his pulse starts
thundering in his ears. “There’s no one here you have to be afraid of.”
Mao stares up at him, disbelieving, but he says nothing, and subtly shifts
back, partially hiding himself behind Rei’s long legs.
“I’m going to open the door,” a firm, young man’s voice says from inside. “When
I do, come in incredibly quickly as I slam the door behind you. Please do not
take even one second longer than you need to, or I will freeze to death. Am I
understood?”
“Spoken like another true non-Northerner,” Rei cheerfully says, but even his
teeth start to chatter. “Please let us in, briskly.”
Keito yanks the door open, and nearly slams it shut on Rei’s companion, yanking
it back at the last second, then shutting it behind both of them. Then he grabs
a strip of fabric and stuffs it under the door. He wipes at his glasses, newly-
fogged up, and stares at the child in horror. “What’s wrong with you, bringing
a child into this weather? Hurry, get him in front of the fire, there’s tea.”
“He’s handling this far better than I am! Aren’t you?”
Mao sneezes, and Rei looks distraught, quickly ushering him over in front of
the fire. “Thaw out, then, even if this is a weak excuse for a fire—did they
sent you up here not teaching you how to properly take care of yourself?” he
scolds, turning towards Keito as he starts unwrapping himself from his cloak.
“Typical nonsense.”
“They sent me to ensure the safety of multiple precious documents,” Keito says
dryly, though he moves fast, fetching his cloak from where it drapes over one
chair, settling it around the boy’s shoulders. “Why did you bring a child? Do
we need to speak privately?”
“I’m really fine,” Mao insists, but he doesn’t protest the extra layer,
snuggling down into it as he curls up in front of the fire, staring around the
room with wide eyes.
“That might be best.” Rei spares a last, hesitant glance towards Mao before
pressing a hand to the small of Keito’s back and giving him a light push
towards the hallway. “You’ll find this to be delightful, I think.”
Keito’s heart thuds, and for once, it isn’t from light exercise. No, that’s
been happening to him around this man since puberty, which is...unhelpful,
since he knows full well that bloodbred can hear such things. He covers it,
poorly, by folding his arms and scowling. “Go on. Delight me.”
Rei beams at him, taking Keito by the shoulders to face him properly. Keito, as
per usual, looks perfectly neat with every hair and piece of clothing in place,
and Rei…well, Rei just regrets lopping his hair off recently, with only a stub
of a ponytail remaining. He could have hidden underneath it all in the cold; as
it is, he’s swaddled in every warm piece of clothing he owns, and still
shivering a bit. “His name is Mao, and he’s going to be your adorable adopted
son now.”
“I thought you said you were going to delight me, not give me an apoplexy,”
Keito says, after a stunned moment. “I don’t believe I’m in the market for an
adopted son, Rei. I’m very busy. And I’m barely twenty!”
“But didn’t you see how cute he is?” Rei insists, leaning in closer. “And he’s
very smart. You could have an assistant, so you’ll be less busy.”
“He’s a baby!” Keito hisses, trying to keep Mao from overhearing. “Why? Why
have you decided that I need a son? I--you barely know me.”
“He’s five…six…something like that, that’s not a baby.” Rei sighs, giving
Keito’s shoulders a firm squeeze. “Right. Truth be told, he hasn’t anywhere to
go. His parents up and left him after his sister bloomed and…your Emperor
decided she was better off dead. The least the Academy could do is take care of
him, and I can’t trust anyone else in that place right now.”
Guilt thuds at Keito’s heart, and he turns his head, looking back at the little
boy with too-large eyes, red hair falling into his face. A child tagging along
hasn’t got any place in anything he’d planned for himself, but...
Where else is the boy to go?
Keito sighs, and mutters, “I’m not agreeing to anything,” before walking back,
kneeling down next to Mao in front of the fire. “What do you want to do with
your life, child?”
Mao tilts his head at him, huddling himself further underneath Keito’s cloak.
“Do you work for the Academy?” he asks instead of immediately answering. “Rei
says you do. He also says you’re—“
“Now, now, don’t repeat any of that,” Rei hastily says, following after Keito
to quickly add, “It wasn’t anything bad, trust me.”
Keito scowls up at Rei. “Let me talk to him, if he’s to be my ward. Yes, I work
for the Academy. I’m an Enhanced, do you know what that means?”
“You’re not a wizard, but you’re still magic. Rei says I can be like that, if I
study very hard.” Mao stare doesn’t waver. “I can do that.”
“Oh.” Keito blinks, then nods slowly. “You’ll have to work hard. This isn’t an
easy life. You’ll be working with people that can do twenty times what you can,
easier than you can breathe. And you’ll be serving them, because they were born
above you. Do you understand that?”
Mao’s gaze flickers sideways to Rei for the briefest of moments before he looks
back to Keito and nods. “I’m not nobleborn, so that’s not all that different,”
he says. “Will I be able to help wizards eventually? That’s what I want to do.”
“See? He’s a bright, good boy,” Rei insists, reaching down to gently muss Mao’s
hair. “You should be honored I brought him to you.”
“I still don’t know why you brought him to me,” Keito says with a sigh, then
absently reaches over, tying the long hair hanging into Mao’s hair into a tail,
pinning it back onto the top of his head. “There, now you can see to study
properly. Honestly, Rei, not that I’m not flattered, but wouldn’t you know more
about training a child? I’ve never done it before.”
“Children are just tiny humans, they’re no different than training your
teenagers that come into the Academy,” Rei says, tucking another strand of
Mao’s hair out of his face. “And this one’s actually smart, so you don’t need
to worry about it. I also, heh. Might have given him a little head start, you
see. He’s young enough that opening up some of those magical channels all
humans are born with…well, it’s much more natural and painless than when you’re
all older.”
“Rei says I’m a natural,” Mao parrots, staring back up at Keito and trying not
to blink sleepily.
“All Rei cares about is magic,” Keito grumbles, and stands, stretching out his
knees. “Well, there’s only one bed, so I hope you don’t kick. Rei, you can
sleep on the floor, unless you’re leaving tonight.”
“I’m sleeping in front of the fire,” Mao says very firmly and proceeds to drag
Rei’s cloak off the back of a chair, making a nest out of that and Keito’s.
“What a resourceful child,” Rei hums, slinging an arm around Keito. “We can
share the bed—all the better for warmth. It’s so mean of you to say I only care
about magic, I care about you!”
“Which is why you saddled me with a responsibility I neither wanted nor asked
for?” Keito asks with a frown. He steps between Mao and the fire, and adds
quietly, “I’ll allow you to sleep here, but starting in the morning, if you’re
going to be my ward, you’ll respect my decisions. This is not an easy life, and
I don’t just mean in dealing with wizards and nobles. If you don’t want to do
as I say, you can leave with Rei and make your own way in the world.”
Mao blinks up at him. “Yes, Milord. The only reason I refused is because Rei
said it would be, um, what’s the word—“
“Not important! Keito, come along, you should be cuddling me,” Rei swiftly
interjects, “not scolding our son. He’s a good boy, just let him be extra warm
after a long day of traveling, would you?”
“And now he’s our son?” Keito asks wearily, patting Mao’s head as he follows
Rei to the bedroom. “I don’t know why you think I’d do anything like cuddle
you. Get a dog.”
“Who else’s son would he be?” Rei says with a laugh, latching himself to
Keito’s arm. “I’d love a dog, but they seem to always allude me. Fickle cats
like yourself as also lovely, however, so I can’t complain.”
Keito’s heart thuds, and he coughs into his hand to make it stop. It won’t
help, of course. It isn’t a sickness. Whatever happens to him when the Prince
of the Shadowlands is around, it isn’t a physical ailment. “I don’t know why
you seem to think that I’m available for you to play with.”
Immediately, Rei’s entire demeanor dissolves into something resembling a sulk.
“You’re so cruel. Weren’t we friendly before I left the Academy? Honestly, I’m
just on hiatus until Eichi gets that stick out of his ass. Besides, you smell
nice,” he sighs, pressing close to Keito’s side and nuzzling into his neck.
“Especially when your heart pounds like that…”
Keito swallows hard, and his heart doesn’t pound so much as flutter at that,
knees buckling a little. Eichi had warned him several times, hadn’t he?If you
ever let that freak get you alone, he’ll try to do you, Eichi had said bluntly.
He’s a sex wizard, it’s all he cares about.
Abruptly, Keito drags Rei into the bedroom, then pushes him back against the
door. “I’ve never been alone with you before,” he says, voice only trembling a
little. “Because they said you’d eat my soul through my mouth. But if you just
want to use me for the night...” His mouth is dry, his head feels fuzzy, his
fingers tingle. “I won’t stop you.”
Rei blinks back at him, his brow furrowing underneath the mussed fall of his
bangs. “They said I’d do…what, now?” he manages, snorting out a laugh at that
as he sags back against the door. “I want to eat you a bit,” he admits,
reaching out a hand that catches into the collar of Keito’s shirt. “But not in
the way you seem to be thinking. Ah, your blood is so noisy, do try to relax a
little…”
“Everyone says it,” Keito whispers, though he can’t help himself when he leans
into that hand, his breath quick, skin hot. “That you can only cast magic by
having sex, and you’re like one of those bugs that behead their mate
afterwards.”
Rei scoffs, even as he laces the top of Keito’s shirt. “They’re misinformed,
then,” he says, his thumb dragging down the exposed skin of Keito’s throat,
tracing the line of that rapidly thudding pulse that he can hear and smell so
clearly. “I can cast magic however I please…but mmn, sex makes it much easier.
Stronger. And if they say that I snuff out the life from my mates, they’re
probably just jealous because they’ve certainly never fucked me.”
Keito feels a shiver creep up his spine, and he nods slowly, feeling his breath
come faster, faster, until he’s panting shallowly. “That...makes sense,” he
manages, barely. “O-of course, if you did eat them afterwards...it would make
sense...to lie before...to your prey...”
“I brought you a child to look after—what use would there be in killing you?”
Rei mutters distractedly, jerking Keito closer to shove a thigh between his
legs as he arches off the door, finally giving into the urge to put his mouth
on Keito’s neck. He sucks on the front of his throat, kisses his way to the
side, and shivers at the thud of that pulse underneath his tongue when it
flicks out, dragging along unmarked skin. “But,” he breathes, “you should still
let me have a taste. Just a little one, I’m hungry, Keito…”
“I don’t think I could stop you,” Keito whispers, because that’s easier than
admitting that he’s always thought Rei is stunning, always wanted to lie with
him like this, always wanted Rei to come to his room and show him what making
love is supposed to be--not awkward and odd and uncomfortable like the spare
few times he’s tried it with other men, not embarrassing and boring like when
he’d tried it with a woman, but something transcendent, the way he’s always
imagined it should be.
Of course, in his mind, Rei had confessed that he’d been watching Keito, had
noticed him for quite a while now, was impressed with him, wanted to be close
to him, had fallen in love with him, but Eichi’s always calling Keito a
helpless, hopeless romantic. “Go on, then.”
The invitation sends a shiver down Rei’s spine, and he bites down, unable to
help himself when Keito is so willing. Not that his partners usually aren’t,
but this is a special case, where he didn’t have to work up to this quite so
strongly—and gods, that’s a relief.
The sudden, bright taste of Keito’s blood on his tongue makes him groan, and
Rei’s hands drag up through Keito’s hair, dragging him closer as he swallows
one heavy mouthful of blood before forcing himself to pull back, panting, lips
stained, his eyes dilated and glowing in the dim light of the bedroom. “I knew
you’d taste like that,” he breathes, licking at his lower lip. “Bright and
sweet. You’ve distracted me for awhile now, do something about it.”
Keito flushes, his body feeling numb, lethargic, indulgent as he shivers, cock
twitching. He tries to bring up his hand, but it hardly moves, and he flops
back on the bed, pulse thudding oddly in his ears. “Can’t move,” he whispers.
“That was...I think I might have...”
“I barely took a sip,” Rei complains, tumbling after him, mouthing at Keito’s
throat again, leaving little red marks wherever he sucks. His fingers drag down
Keito’s chest as he straddles those lean hips, swiftly unlacing, and then splay
their way lower, down to Keito’s trousers. “Shall I kiss you until you clear
your head? Ah, it’s so warm in here suddenly,” he grumbles, leaning back to
shed a couple of layers, until flimsy, mostly-transparent linen is the only
thing covering his chest.
Keito’s hands suddenly decide they know how to move again, if only to touch
that gorgeous, sculpted chest. “Unfair,” he murmurs, eyes unfocused, fingers
dragging shakily down Rei’s chest to his stomach. “You don’t exercise any more
than I do, I remember.” And his own body certainly doesn’t look so lovely.
But....
He arches up, leaning up for a kiss, expectant, hungry, hopeful.
Rei meets Keito half-way, catching his face in his hands, drawing him up and
licking, sucking, biting at his lips until he himself pants for a full breath,
and even still, refuses to stop. His tongue drags against Keito’s, filthy and
slick, and his knees better settle into the bed to make the languid grind of
his ass down against Keito’s cock that much easier. “I think you’re handsome,”
Rei sighs against Keito’s mouth. “So shut up.”
Keito lets out a low moan that almost sounds like a whimper, hands coming up to
tangle in Rei’s wild hair. “Always thought...you were beautiful,” he whispers,
but that isn’t enough, and his finger traces the jut of one cheekbone. “Like
moonlight made flesh. Like an unbruised flower petal.”
Rei’s breath stutters in his chest unexpectedly, and he blinks, startled when
he feels his skin heat underneath Keito’s touch. “You’re going to make me
blush,” he mutters, turning his head aside to kiss Keito’s palm. Then he grabs
his wrist, kissing up one finger before sucking on the tip of it. “Stop that.
Or don’t, actually, you can keep going, just don’t tell anyone later.”
Keito leans up again, getting some control of his body back, kissing Rei hard.
“The doors are thick in the North,” he murmurs, stripping off his tunic, even
as he shivers in the chilly air, unlacing his breeches and leggings next. “I
doubt the boy will hear. Ah--what do you prefer?”
“Everything,” Rei admits with a breathy laugh, getting about half-way through
unlacing his own tunic before he lurches down to kiss Keito again, his teeth
dragging over his lower lip as he sucks it into his mouth. “So you’re better
off…mmn…just telling me what you like.” His eyes lid, amused. “You kiss like a
man that wants to shove his prick in someone pretty.”
A wave of relief courses through Keito, and he flips them over, pinning Rei
down onto his back, kissing his neck, then back to his lips. “I’d love to make
love to you,” he murmurs, stroking that thick black hair again. “And I’ve hated
it the other way in the past, though...if it were you, I’d let you. But, mm, I
want you like this, if you’ll have me.”
Rei purrs long and low in his throat as he arches up, his fingers dragging down
Keito’s back, his thighs squeezing to either side of Keito’s hips. “Aren’t you
lucky, then, that I’ve thought about you tossing me onto my back for awhile,”
he airily says, his head lolling back to further muss his hair. He drops one
hand down, fumbling for his own discarded belt and finding it eventually,
ripping a pouch full of several oil vials clear off of it. “Put that cock of
yours to good use, Milord. I want a reason to sweat in weather like this.”
Keito’s cock stiffens so fast he dearly misses the blood he’d given up, and he
grunts, pushing Rei’s shirt up over his chest. “Haven’t you ever heard of
romance?” he mutters, sliding a hand down to ghost along one pale thigh,
rocking up against Rei’s body to steal another kiss. “You’re supposed to tell
me how long you’ve thought I was wonderful before grabbing for my prick, you
know. Otherwise it’s all so...clinical.”
A hitching groan leaves Rei’s throat, and he lurches up into each kiss, little
eager, breathless noises leaving his throat. “I’ll wax poetic when you’re in
me,” he groans, his fingers dragging up through Keito’s hair, then cupping his
face in his hands to kiss him again. His cock twitches between his legs,
distractingly hard. “I’ve wanted to snatch you out of Eichi’s delicate little
hands since I spoke to you for the first time, there, how’s that?”
“Better,” Keito decides, even if the thought of Eichi nearly makes him
hesitate. That happens every time he has sex, some stupid part of him insisting
that he should wait for Eichi. But Eichi, he’s sure by now, is never going to
fuck him. He nearly confesses instead that his first wet dream was about Rei,
but no, Rei could easily use that against him later. Instead, he winds his body
around Rei’s, feeling far less awkward than the first few times he’s done this,
kissing Rei’s neck, reaching down to palm his cock. “I expect...quite a bit of
poetry when I’m moving inside you, then.”
Rei shudders, arching up against the hand on his cock, one of his own fumbling
down to grip Keito’s wrist, refusing to let him pull that touch away. “If
poetry is what you want, you’ll get it,” he promises, his lips parting when
Keito’s mouth presses warm and wet to his neck. “You…mnn…you looked like the
kind of person that would be fun to do this with,” he sighs. “I’m glad I’m
never wrong.”
The reminder that Keito is probably one in a long, long string of people isn’t
a welcome one, but Keito pushes it to the side. At least he knows what he’s
getting himself into, and won’t do anything stupid like fall in love too much.
He hooks his hand under one of Rei’s legs, hoisting the knee up to his chest as
he fumbles with the bottles Rei had tossed his way. “You have a favorite? Or
just anything?”
“What have you always wanted to do?” Rei presses, languidly batting Keito’s
hand away to obediently keep his leg hoisted up himself. “I mean, if you must
know…I do like this. Being taken care of. Being told that I’m lovely with just
as lovely words, but who wouldn’t like that?” He licks his lips, watching Keito
through his lashes. “I heard you were an artist. Have you drawn me?”
The flush that suddenly dusts Keito’s cheeks speaks volumes, so it’s no good
denying it. “Once or twice,” he confirms, ducking his head, then hesitantly
pressing a kiss to one of Rei’s elegant feet. “You’re a very good subject. All
that hair, and your proportions...they’re basically perfect.”
“Is that all of me you’ve drawn?” Rei teases, wiggling his toes. “How perfect
you think I am? You can tell me, I’m fun and like being in compromising
positions.”
Keito hesitates, but when Rei doesn’t complain, he presses another kiss to the
bottom of his foot, more lingering this time, even as he dips a few fingers
into the oil. “I like imagining you in different positions,” he says softly.
“Or in the starlight. I’ve sketched you in my bed before.”
“You should do it again later, now that I’m actually here.” Rei’s breath
hitches, his toes curling this time, and he shifts on the bed, idly dragging a
hand up to thumb over one of his nipples himself. “For accuracy. I don’t mind
if you tie me into the positions you like best, either.”
Keito takes that as a sign that Rei is getting annoyed with his slow pace, and
drags a couple of slick fingers between Rei’s thighs, using his sparse
knowledge to drag them over his hole. “Do...I won’t ask if you do this often,
but...how slow would you like me to go?”
“Depends on if you want me to end up flipping you over and climbing on it
myself,” Rei groans, flopping his head back. “I don’t do it this way all that
often, I’ll have you know, so you can take your time, just—just put one in me
already, or I’m going to go mad.”
“Greedy,” Keito grumbles, but obliges, letting one long finger slide inside,
his breath catching in his throat. “Ah...that’s very...mm, I haven’t done it
face to face before, but you’re...you’re so lovely, it would be a shame not to
watch your face the whole time. Is that--do you like that?”
“Gods, you haven’t really lived, have you,” Rei fairly whimpers, his eyes
fluttering as he shivers and wriggles down deliberately, savoring that long,
slick press inside. Maybe he is greedy, judging by the way his body reflexively
squeezes down, already wanting more. “Watching someone’s face…when you’re
inside of them…that’s…ah…that’s where half the magic in the whole damned world,
if you ask me—“
“I’m sure it’s a bit more of a percentage if you’re a sex wizard,” Keito says
wryly, but his voice isn’t nearly as dismissive as he’d intended. He’s intent,
hungry, watching every movement of Rei’s body as if it’ll fix everything, as if
it’ll satisfy him just to watch. He curls his finger, then takes a cue,
slipping another inside. “You’re so tight, but that’s just going to make it
feel so good. Don’t worry, I won’t be rough on you.”
Rei’s voice catches on a hiss of breath, making him forget words for a moment.
“Gods, you could, if you wanted, I don’t care,” he mutters, a mindless shiver
raking down his spine as his back arches. Riding down against Keito’s hand
makes his mind shut off delightfully, dulling the noise around him wherever he
goes, even if it’s only for a moment, and Rei grabs for him, twisting a hand up
into Keito’s hair, clinging to him as his chest heaves. “That’s…nn…that’s good,
you’re so good…you’ll..you’ll see, when you fuck me, why he’s so scared of us
together…”
Keito smiles, though it feels almost feral on his face, far from the gentle
encouragement he’d meant to offer. He curls his fingers again, then bends his
face, kissing Rei’s chest, nipping at one nipple with his teeth. “I doubt I’ll
be scared of anything when I’m with you. Spread your legs, let me inside,
please...” It still feels polite to ask, even when Rei is grabbing and pulling
at him so insistently.
Rei barely nods, just grabs for Keito again, his chest still stinging and
throbbing underneath the nip of his teeth. “Not you,” he breathes, his thighs
squeezing around Keito’s waist, drawing him closer, urging him in. “Your
Emperor. He’s afraid, always.” He lurches up, grabbing Keito’s face to kiss him
again, his teeth sharp against his lips. “Gods,” he groans, “I don’t care.
Inside me, do it, now.”
“Don’t talk about him right now.” Part of it is self-defense--he doesn’t want
to think about Eichi, doesn’t want to be reminded when he’s so intimate with
someone--but part of it’s jealously selfish, too, and doesn’t want Rei thinking
of anyone, let alone Eichi, when they’re together. He positions himself,
sorting the angle quickly when the new position makes it something of a
challenge, and finally slides inside, the head catching slightly on the rim of
Rei’s hole, then suddenly sliding in deep.
The low, pleased groan that escapes past Rei’s lips breaks to a rasping,
panting whine in the next moment. His nails curl into fists before they can
score down Keito’s back, dropping to the bed instead as his back arches, thighs
squeezing tight around Keito to draw him in, pull him in deeper when his
insides already feel too-full, too-fast.
That doesn’t stop his cock from being achingly hard against his stomach, or for
his mind to zero in on Keito’s pulse, thrumming frantically, a too-fast drum
that makes Rei want to taste it again. He barely resists, and his tongue drags
over the tips of his fangs instead as his head falls back, panting towards the
ceiling. “You feel…like you’re made to be inside me,” he groans, his lashes
fluttering. Behind them, there are countless little eager dots of magic to be
found and pulled and turned to whatever he likes, but Rei is uninterested, far
more entertained by the way Keito’s cock feels inside of him.
At some point, it’s impossible to tell whether the thundering of his own pulse,
the delicious squeeze of Rei around him, the way Rei grabs at him, the way his
skin is on fire, is because of magic, or because Rei is just so good inside. “I
don’t know...what you’re doing to me,” Keito groans, burying his face in Rei’s
elegant neck, kissing and sucking at his pulse, hips snapping in deep. “But I
want you to keep doing it, ah, you’re so tight, are you sure I’m not hurting
you?”
“Yes, yes, just—f-fuck, right there—“ It’s a damned good thing for thick doors,
because Rei has never been especially good at keeping his voice down,
especially when he has someone that moves with him so well. He reaches a hand
back, clawing back to grip at the flimsy headboard for more leverage to better
wriggle down, grinding himself down into Keito’s thrusts with a ragged, panting
groan leaving his throat. “It’s not—ahh—magic, I swear,” he manages with a
breathy laugh, grabbing for Keito’s hair with his other hand to pull him down
into another kiss. Even though he says that, sweat drips from his hairline as
he feels that low, thrumming pulse of magic stir even more strongly within him,
and containing that makes him tremble, shivering as he clenches down onto
Keito’s cock.
Keito curses under his breath, hips snapping up, skin taut and tense as he
thrusts into that warm, welcoming, sinfully tight heat. If this is what sex is
supposed to be like, he’s either had shit partners or been shit himself until
now. Every moan he forces from Rei’s mouth feels like a victory, and he drives
forward for more, sucking on his neck where the pulse is close to the skin,
kissing him back and tasting his mouth, driving in deep inside to hopefully
make him feel just as good. One hand steals between them, questing, wrapping
around Rei’s cock. “Do you like being touched here?” he asks, breathless and
wild. “Ah, dumb question, but--”
Rei’s back arches, and he fumbles to grab for Keito’s hand, squeezing his wrist
with trembling fingers. “Y-yes, but…but if you do, you’re gonna make this be
over so fast,” he says with a ragged laugh, blinking hard at the overstimulated
tears that prick at the corner of his eyes. “Or…or is that what you want? If
you want to watch me come on your cock, I’ll do it, I…”
“Could you?” Keito asks, suddenly even harder, hand stilling as his hips pick
up the pace, slapping gently against Rei’s ass with each thrust. He licks dry
lips, eyes alight, driving in harder, watching the expressions on Rei’s face
change. “Can you come just from me inside you? I want to watch your face, don’t
hide from me, please--”
Keito’s cock slides inside of him so deeply, so perfectly that Rei barely
recognizes the whine that escapes his throat. He doesn’t bother biting it back,
though, not when Keito sounds so desperate to hear more, to see the way he
reacts, and he nods frantically, not even needing to try when his cock already
drips, twitching with every slide of Keito’s cock inside of him. “Just—ahh—k-
keep fucking me like that, just like that, you’re—“
Rei tries not to twist or turn his head away when he comes, but that’s easier
said than done when it takes him by surprise. His entire body clenches down,
and he clamps a hand over his own mouth to not only keep his voice down, but to
keep from lunging forward and biting again when his cock spills in long, hard
pulses over his stomach, leaving him trembling, his chest heaving with every
twitch. When he drops his hand, his lips are slick with his own blood and
saliva, tongue flicking out to lick it up when his body won’t stop shaking,
little lingering tremors making his orgasm linger.
Keito tries not to cry out, mindful of the child in the other room, but how can
he keep silent through something like this? He groans, burying his face in
Rei’s hair, slamming in deep and fast and hard for the last few thrusts as his
body gives up, convulsing in utterly wrenching pleasure, spilling as far inside
Rei’s body as he can manage. Then, all at once, his body relaxes, collapsing on
top of Rei, unable to move even though Rei’s leg must be pinned at an awkward
angle. “Oh,” he manages, not bothering to move even if Rei’s hair is in his
mouth.
Rei exhales a long, pleased sigh, his eyes lidded as he flops an arm around
Keito’s sweaty back, and runs long fingers down his spine, petting him. In
front of his eyes, the world appears as little bit dots of magic and their
connecting strings, all ringing out different sounds when plucked with even the
smallest touch, and he has to shut his eyes to will that viewpoint away, even
for a moment. “This can be…a reoccurring thing. I’m insisting on it, actually.”
“Why?”
The word comes out as a whisper, and Keito buries his face in the pillow. “You
could have anyone. I’m hardly worthy.”
“Nnn…disagree. Keito, I like you.” Rei shifts underneath him, wriggling to free
his legs and properly stretch out. “I think you’re smart and witty and kind.
And handsome. And you just made me feel good, so that’s a plus…mm, but pull a
blanket over here, it’s going to get chilly.”
Keito grabs a huge lined fur, dragging it over both of them with a grunt.
“Thought you’d go for flashy people. Someone...more interesting, like Eichi.”
Rei snuggles down, clearly in bliss. “Hmm? Oh, oh no. Just being around him
makes me itch. Even if he was the kindest, most wonderful person in this world,
I wouldn’t lie with him. I couldn’t, without wanting to rip my own skin off.”
Keito grimaces. “He’s not like how he seems, you know,” he says, unsure why he
feels the need to defend Eichi in the stupidest ways, at the stupidest times.
“He’s a very sweet person, under his public image.”
“He rubs me the wrong way. But that’s neither here nor there, it’s a species
thing, first and foremost—which I’ve acknowledged, and he can’t seem to let go
because everyone must love him, according to him.” Rei rolls his eyes, grabbing
Keito around the waist to drag him closer and nestle into his chest. “I can’t
work with him. Why do you think I left?”
“Mm, I don’t want to talk about that right now.” Keito strokes a hand down
Rei’s back, reaching up the other to finger the tiny holes in his neck gently.
“What about the Faerie, or whatever they’re calling that creature now?
He’s...well, he seems about as outrageous as you.”
“Wataru? He’s delightful, isn’t he? A good friend. We’ve done this before, but
our interests both lie elsewhere. Once was enough to realize that.” Rei nuzzles
up into Keito’s neck, his eyes lidded. “You have a far lovelier sound.”
That makes oddly pleased little prickles ripple at the base of Keito’s neck,
and he smiles, stroking Rei’s hair. “For whatever it’s worth, I’m glad you’re
here. Flattered, too.”
“Mm, good. Because I’m probably not leaving for awhile. You can explain that to
the Academy later.”
Keito sighs. “I should have known you’d be trouble.”
***** Chapter 54 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
As a rather young Nooncloak, Tsumugi has his pick of assignments. He could take
a task far and wide on the Academy’s orders, could delve into research, could
explore the mysteries of the universe and travel, could go to war and fight for
his country.
Instead, Tsumugi quietly opts to stay in the Academy, passing up every
assignment. He doesn’t even sign on to teach the younger wizards, despite the
fact that many of them find him friendly and accessible, and often wave to him
in the hallways. Sometimes he sees them. More often, he’s distracted, worried
by his own readings of fortune, and dedicated to his task.
The Academy, of course, has the Library.
It’s the largest Library in all of Yumenosaki’s world, larger than any Tsumugi
has ever heard of. It’s quiet, cool, dry, and clean. During his years of study,
Tsumugi had spent all of his evenings in the Library, usually pressed into
service to put all books back into their places. But now that he’s newly
graduated, he sticks to the shadows, avoiding any of the librarians who might
ask him for help, delving into text after text, relishing his quiet time
reading alone.
Alone, but not lonely. That’s what most of his friends haven’t understood about
the way he spends his free time. At least this way, he isn’t causing anyone
grief, and no one is trying to hurt him. Besides, he has his books, and no one
in the Library is going to invade his personal space.
Eichi, for his part, enjoys the library as a chance to avoid work.
Being in charge is lovely, and he certainly does love dictating. The issue is
that it’s tiring, after a certain point, and a chance to unwind and enjoy time
away from not only the general public, but his own wizards, and his own
assistants is necessary. There are a few that do love nagging him so, even when
he’s exhausted and paperwork should not be any part of being an all-powerful
wizard, reigning over a kingdom of magic.
But here he is, dressed down like a commoner, sneaking around the Academy,
avoiding everyone he possibly can—which is easier said than done within walls
that he rarely leaves.
It isn’t his first time doing it, nor will it be his last…and there’s another
familiar presence here with him, it seems. Tsumugi, a Nooncloak, always quiet
and withdrawn, but never impolite. He’s odd, and not for the first time, Eichi
finds himself staring at him through the bookshelves, watching Tsumugi for a
long moment before he gives in to impulse, and sneaks his way around, poking a
finger directly between Tsumugi’s shoulder blades.
“You’re always in here.” His eyes gleam, and he drapes himself against Tsumugi
from behind, immediately destroying any semblance of personal space. “Are books
really so interesting? Ah, you’re so strong, I can feel it, why do you insist
on staying here?”
Tsumugi squeaks, wheeling around, hand pressed to his chest as he laughs at
himself. He doesn’t bother to back up--the Emperor obviously wants to be close
to him, or he wouldn’t have advanced like that--but he sighs, self-deprecating
as he smiles, shaking his head. “Ah, you gave me a fright, Eichi! Is there
something I can help you find? I don’t really work here, but I know the Library
very well.”
“No, no, I’m asking about you,” Eichi dismisses, taking a step closer to make
sure he doesn’t let any space happen between them. “What are you hiding from?
I’d have you work with me directly, you’re much more pleasant than some people
that I won’t mention.”
Tsumugi blinks, then reaches up to tuck a long strand of hair behind his ears,
mindful that it doesn’t bother Eichi. Looking unkempt has not served him well
in the past, though he tries to remind himself that those days are over. “You
have a task you want me to do? Of course, I’m at your service. Do you think I
can help?”
“Mm, nothing in particular. I just like you.” Eichi reaches up, pulling one of
those strands of hair back out to coil it around his finger. “I don’t feel that
way about a lot of humans—not like this, not ever like this, actually…you’re
special, I think, somehow.”
Tsumugi’s breath stutters, and he offers a shy little smile, ducking his head.
The back of his minds reminds him that this is scary, that people in positions
of power are not to be trusted, but this is the Emperor, who runs the shining
Academy. “Ah, if you’d like, do you want to have some tea with me?” he asks,
blinking slightly up at Eichi. “Oh, and if you tell me your birthday, I’ll read
your fortune in the leaves.”
Eichi’s face immediately brightens, his eyes wide. “Eh? Really? I love that
sort of thing, I should’ve known you’d have a talent for it—we can go to my
private chambers, I have a very nice tea collection and I never get to share
it.”
“I hope I don’t disappoint you as a guest,” Tsumugi says cheerfully. “I’m sure
my wit isn’t up to par with your usual guests, but I’ll try my best, I
promise.” He carefully closes his book, memorizing his page number, and
replaces it on the shelf, precisely in its space.
“You need to stop saying things like that—putting yourself down all the time,
that kind of thing,” Eichi dismissively says, and he grabs Tsumugi by the hand,
dragging him along with all the strength he possesses (which isn’t much). “It
insults my taste. I don’t keep the company of lesser beings, I’ll have you
know.”
“Mm, very well! I’ll try to be better at that kind of thing,” Tsumugi says,
nodding his head in a half-bow as he follows along. “The Academy is a very
wonderful place to someone like me. Thank you for making it a place I can feel
safe.”
“Oh, it’s going to be even better soon,” Eichi says reassuringly, switching his
grip on Tsumugi’s hand to lace their fingers together. “Once everyone accepts
that I’m in charge. There’s too many arguments right now, you know? I’m rather
sick of that Rei fellow, and him opposing me at every single turn. Infuriating,
honestly. I gave up so much for this, I don’t understand why it isn’tobvious
that I should be the one that rules above all others.”
Tsumugi nods gratefully, squeezing Eichi’s hand, hoping he’s doing this whole
thing correctly. He hasn’t seen anyone else interacting with the Emperor like
this, so he’ll have to be on his best behavior to make certain he doesn’t mess
up. “Of course, if everyone could stop fighting, that would be the best. But
until then, you’ve got everyone’s support, and I’m sure you’ll win!”
“This is why I like you,” Eichi sighs happily, “you actually seem to
understand. Ahh, you’re such a good boy, I just…”
He drags Tsumugi to the sky bridge attaching the Academy proper to his own,
separate tower, and the heavy door shuts behind them with a resounding thud. “I
don’t feel these kinds of things for humans,” he excitedly says, pressing close
again as he backs Tsumugi up against the closed door. “That’s how I know you
have to be special—you’re different, aren’t you? To me, especially. Have you
ever heard of things called resonant bonds?”
“I haven’t,” Tsumugi says truthfully, with a little smile. Eichi is such a
sweet person, under his threatening persona. The door at his back is firm,
making him feel secure, and he reaches up to touch the soft skin of Eichi’s
cheek, a gentle brush. “But I think you’re very wonderful, if that’s part of
it? I really look up to you.”
“It’s more than that, listen,” Eichi insistently says, even as he grabs for
Tsumugi’s hand, holding it against his cheek. “It’s a connection between two
people—one of them has to be a wizard—and they’re…they’re very rare. I’ve read
about them, and they seem so lovely. It’s like a whole other level of
connection, beyond even lovers. And they have to be cultivated, sometimes it’s
telepathy, or just heightened awareness of the other person, but we’re both
wizards, so it could be so much more than that.”
Tsumugi blinks. He’s fairly sure he doesn’t feel any of that, but...well, Eichi
looks very excited, and he has a lovely smile. “Is there anything I can do to
hasten it along?” he asks gently, stroking his thumb over Eichi’s pale cheek.
“Ah, it doesn’t feel real that I’m here with you, you’re like a god compared to
someone like me.”
“Nooo, don’t say that, I’m fun,” Eichi protests, butting his head into
Tsumugi’s hand before he turns his head, pressing a kiss to the inside of
Tsumugi’s palm. “You should kiss me. Everyone else I’ve asked has been too
scared to, that’s not even fair.”
That’s not fair. Tsumugi firms up his resolve, and the part of him that’s still
afraid to touch anyone for fear that his bad fortune is contagious. Then he
leans forward and up onto his toes slightly, meeting Eichi’s lips in a soft
kiss that sends little sparks of electricity through him. He pulls away after a
moment, uncertain. “Was that...did you like that? I did.”
Eichi’s breath catches in his throat, and he lurches forward, grabbing
Tsumugi’s shirt to haul him closer. “Yes. Do it again,” he demands, his cheeks
flushing. “The way we’ve all seen that filthy demon kiss his lovers. I don’t
want him to do it to me, but I want to know what it feels like.”
It would be a bald-faced lie to say that Tsumugi hasn’t watched Rei stick his
tongue down someone’s throat on more than one occasion. It would be more of one
to pretend that he hasn’t felt that himself, hasn’t been backed against a wall
in a dark room by the prince of demons, hasn’t had those sinful lips brush over
his neck, felt him hot and hard between his thighs. It had been just once,
several months ago, but the memory is strong, and it’s easy to surge forward,
catching Eichi’s mouth again, slipping his tongue between those soft lips,
grabbing him by the waist and yanking him close. He even turns them, pushing
Eichi back against the door, trying to be useful.
Oh, that’s very nice, even if it’s a surprise that he’s suddenly the one pushed
up against the door with Tsumugi—who is, ah, well, far more solid than Eichi
expected him to be. His breath escapes him in a little rush of a gasp, and
Eichi’s hands immediately release Tsumugi’s shirt to grab for his hair instead,
burying his fingers into the thick curls of it when that tongue slips past his
lips. He shivers, and the low, rumbling groan that escapes his throat preludes
his lurch forward to kiss Tsumugi back, needing a better, more thorough taste
of Tsumugi’s mouth.
Tsumugi sucks softly on Eichi’s tongue, then his lower lip, pulling back,
eyelashes fluttering. “Was that good?” he asks, somewhat anxious. “Mm, you have
very nice hands, but I’m afraid I might need to brush my teeth or something...”
“You’re not allowed to stop,” Eichi mutters huffily, leaning forward to kiss
Tsumugi again. “Obviously I liked it. You could taste more like tea, I’ll agree
with that, but you’re not disagreeable and of course I have nice hands. You’re
much stronger than you look.”
“Sorry,” Tsumugi apologizes automatically, something flickering in the depths
of his eyes. He squares his shoulders, then kisses Eichi’s cheek, then his lips
again, drawing him into another deep kiss, thinking back to what Rei had done
to him. If Eichi wants to feel that...he steps forward, sliding one thigh up
between Eichi’s, pressing hard.
Eichi’s breath hiccups, his hands tightening in Tsumugi’s hair. Something equal
parts startled and pleased makes his blood thrum faster, and he surges forward,
pressing back against that touch, his mouth parting far faster against
Tsumugi’s as he eagerly sucks on his tongue, mirroring what Tsumugi had done to
him only moments before. “That..mmn…yes, good,” he mutters, a hot breath
between them enough to make Tsumugi’s glasses fog up. “You…I knew I was right
about you.”
“And you’re a very fast learner,” Tsumugi says with a smile, though he takes
off his spectacles, wiping them on the bottom of his shirt. “Ah, perhaps we
should move this to the bed? I’m sure I’ll fall over and embarrass us both if
we keep standing.”
“…And you’re even more handsome without those glasses,” Eichi muses aloud, his
brow furrowing a bit over it even as he trails after Tsumugi, uninterested in
surrendering his newfound toy. “Does it feel…mm, a little bit like static
electricity? That little shock, you know? It’s nice, isn’t it?”
“I thought that was just your presence,” Tsumugi says honestly, sitting on the
edge of the bed, reaching out a hand to cup Eichi’s cheek again. “I usually
feel that spark when you’re around, Eichi. But I’m impressed by you, so I don’t
think it’s that strange.”
“That’s what I was talking about before,” Eichi breathes, promptly climbing
into Tsumugi’s lap, hands cupping his face. “That spark. That…that little
connection. That’s what I want, more than anything—otherwise, what was the
point of coming to this world?”
“I’ve never known,” Tsumugi says quietly, truthfully. His arms encircle Eichi’s
waist, the way he seems to want, and he draws him close, hoping he isn’t
overstepping. “But I do like the way it feels when I’m close to you. Is that
what you mean?”
“Yes—yes, something like that, it’s a start,” Eichi says, immediately curling
closer, looping his arms around Tsumugi’s neck. “Some of the older wizards
here, they like to scoff at me about this,” he sniffs. “Which I think is very
rude. I’m their Emperor. What do they know? They’re just jealous that they
can’t find a connection like you and I have. Ah, not that I’ve told anyone
about you yet, I wasn’t sure, but now…”
“How...” Tsumugi flushes, laying his hands on Eichi’s chest, feeling his
heartbeat. It’s unusual, firm and almost proud, but not in any rhythm Tsumugi
can discern. “How does the magic look, to you? I’ve heard some people describe
it as colors or music...”
“Like wings.”
Eichi’s eyes lid, and his fingers slowly stroke down the back of Tsumugi’s
neck. “And the stronger a person is…the more well-formed they are, down to
individual feathers sometimes, things like that. Yours…” His fingers drag down
Tsumugi’s back to his shoulder blades. “Yours are so beautiful, it makes me
want to rip them off so I can have them for myself.”
“Oh. Thank you,” Tsumugi says honestly, eyes lighting at that. “I’m really
flattered that someone like you thinks so highly of me.” He turns, as if he
could see them himself, though that isn’t how it works. “I wish I could see
what you see. It sounds like a beautiful world.”
“Sometimes. Mmn, but sometimes, it’s frustrating, to see people that don’t know
how splendid their talent is…or vice versa, when people think they’re so much
greater than they really are. You’re the former,” Eichi adds, burying his face
down into Tsumugi’s hair with a deep inhale. “Gods, aren’t you the former.
You’re so frustrating, locking yourself away in that library for hours and
hours…”
Tsumugi’s cheeks flush, and he ducks his head, a little embarrassed smile
playing around his lips. “For someone like you to say that...I really don’t
think I deserve it,” he says honestly. “I haven’t done any great deeds--not
like you, or so many others. You--you won the Greatwar, almost single-handedly!
I learned about you in school.”
“Oh, I’m incredible, that’s correct,” Eichi humbly agrees, still petting
Tsumugi’s hair. “But that doesn’t mean your power is any less…interesting.
Because it is, or we wouldn’t be talking right now. I’ve never met anyone who
felt so much like…like nothing before, but I mean that in the best of ways,
because I know, I can see it with my own eyes, that there’s so much there that
you deliberately keep under wraps…” He tilts his head, nuzzling down to
Tsumugi’s ear, his teeth gently catching against the lobe of it. “You should
show it to me. Only me.”
Tsumugi’s breath stutters, and he hears his chest pound, hands coming to rest
on Eichi’s thighs. “I’m...not sure how to show you,” he says uncertainly. “My
Academy performance is on record, my exams...I didn’t do too badly, but I
don’t...particularly like drawing attention to myself...”
“I don’t care about your exams.” Eichi’s fingers twist up tighter into
Tsumugi’s hair, pulling his head back to make him look up at him. “I want you.
Every part of you—those parts that you hide from everyone because you think
everyone will hate you…those should be mine. And every part of me that you
want—you can have that in return.”
“Ah, isn’t that...” Too much to give to one person? But obviously Eichi doesn’t
think it’s too much, so Tsumugi just smiles. It’s not the first time someone
has wanted to own him. It is the first time someone has offered themselves in
return...and that’s love, isn’t it? “A web,” he says softly, leaning in close,
resting his forehead against Eichi’s. “I see it all--connections, between
people, sometimes between places and things. How we’re all bound to each other.
How we...care for each other.”
“Fascinating,” Eichi murmurs, his eyes lidding as his fingers loosen, returning
to stroking Tsumugi’s hair again. “It’s the true feelings of people, I’m
assuming? Ahh…that could be very interesting…and useful, if used correctly,
don’t you think?”
“It...” Tsumugi hesitates, but Eichi had said he wants all of him, hadn’t he?
“It’s been useful, and horrifying, in the past,” he admits. “Everything got
easier when I came to the Academy.”
“It’s much safer here, and much easier to control every part of your magic,”
Eichi soothingly agrees, shifting in Tsumugi’s lap to stay close to him. “Mm,
if it’s a web like that…what does it look like between you and I?”
Tsumugi unfocuses his eyes, letting them drift into the over-world, the place
where magic reads more strongly than anything. “Shining and golden,” he
whispers. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Then it is as I said, that’s our bond,” Eichi insists, his eyes alight as he
draws back enough to look into Tsumugi’s own. “We’re meant to be, you don’t
need to tell my fortune to know that—that’s why I’ve been so drawn to you.
That’s why you’re mine,” he sighs, taking Tsumugi’s face in his hands and
tilting his head up for another kiss. “And I yours, if you promise to keep
giving yourself to me.”
“You can have anything you want,” Tsumugi says honestly, leaning in, hungry for
a kiss now that he knows what Eichi wants from him. It sounds insane, that all
Eichi wants is closeness, when that’s something Tsumugi doesn’t at all mind
giving him. He strokes Eichi’s hair, smiling. “I’ll give you all of me.”
***** Chapter 55 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
“I can’t believe it. You’re actually leaving.”
It’s Eichi, of course, who stands within the aisle-way of the Academy stables,
looking as pale and wan as he always does, no matter that his attendants try to
swaddle him with every layer imaginable even in fair weather. Rei doesn’t offer
him a glance beyond the tiniest passing one as he saddles his horse, his teeth
clenched, jaw firm.
“Considering,” he lowly says, “you’ve taken it upon yourself to either enslave
every friend I have, or silence those that would stand next to me, you haven’t
given me much of a choice. Have you?”
“Your little brother remains,” Eichi points out, his tone even, unconcerned,
and he folds his arms across his chest. “Will you not hold out for him at
least?”
“Ritsu has his own mind.”
“Certainly. And a lovely mind it is—with a lovely mouth, too, and lovely hands,
but especially that mouth—“
Wood splinters off from the stall door, and Rei’s horse shifts unhappily,
snorting as it backs away in fear. Eichi’s eyes lid, a smile on his lips, but
his smugness only lasts for a moment when his body reacts—suddenly,
violently—to the sharp spike in Rei’s magic, and a cough that he’s tried to
repress wells up, leaving him bent over, blood staining his white leather
gloves.
“Maybe,” Rei coldly says, yanking his horse’s head around as he leads it from
the stall, “if you didn’t spend all of your time meddling with magic that has
no rhyme or reason, you wouldn’t be so weak.”
“Wataru had no protests,” Eichi breathes, eyes alight as he lifts his head.
“I’ve mapped out those wings perfectly—and soon, everyone will be able to see
them, and how glorious they are. Nothing like those twisted things you and your
shitty little brat of a brother have—“
“I hope you’re cursed to rot here, in this prison you’ve made, alone and
forgotten,” Rei snaps, hauling himself up onto his horse’s back.
“That’s the curse you have for me?” Eichi laughs, gingerly wiping away a bit
more blood from his lips. “That I die alone and without friends? How adorable.”
“Keep destroying every single ideal that we’ve built here, and it’ll happen far
sooner than you think.”
Rei leaves, and Eichi irritably pushes him from his mind.
It’s scarcely a month later that Eichi finds himself faced with
something…troublesome. By the new rules and regulations of the Academy, freshly
bloomed wizards are handled explicitly by the Academy without the input of the
crown—but this is an odd case, an outlier, especially when it’s a frantic
missive from the king’s messengers that wakes him in the middle of the night,
forcing him to be clothed and shivering in snowy weather.
A girl within the capital has bloomed, and she’s very young. 
Abnormally so, for a wizard to bloom, but even Eichi doesn’t realize exactly
how troublesome that is until arriving at the scene, feeling the countless
layers of shields that the Collectors have placed upon her just to keep her
magic contained—and even then, only barely, even as the little girl lies
unconscious on the ground.
“Honestly,” he mutters, tugging his heavy, fur-lined cloak about himself, the
fluffy white of it nearly blending in with his hair. “Why hasn’t she been
contained yet?”
“None of the usual methods are working, Excellency,” a wizard wearily explains.
“She’s…she’s only three, she can’t understand.”
“And you’ve tried everything?”
“Everything.”
“Then there’s nothing to be done, is there? Kill her.”
There’s palpable hesitation, and Eichi’s lips purse. “Do I need to do it
myself? Tsumugi,” he calls, turning back to his entourage. “You’re sensible.
There’s nothing else that could be done here, is there?”
Tsumugi looks up, trying to contain his horror, and then down at the little
girl. He walks forward, resting his hand on the little girl’s forehead. He
closes his eyes, breathes in, and tenses unhappily when wave after wave of
magic crashes against every shield he has, a painful, emotional riot of a
storm, all emanating from someone so small. “I...maybe I can contain her,” he
offers, chewing on his lower lip. “But if Rei were here, he surely could. Ah,
she could be a Nightcloak someday, she’s so strong--”
“Well, Rei isn’t here, is he?” Eichi snaps, ruffling visibly. “If he cared as
much about this sort of thing as he always liked to claim he did, maybe he
would’ve stuck around, hmm? I’m not letting you try to contain her, you’ll just
injure yourself, that’s as clear as day. Step back.”
“Eichi, no, I can do this,” Tsumugi protests, even as one of Eichi’s guards
tries to guide him to the side. Horrified, he looks up. “Surely you won’t--
she’s just a little girl, call for Rei, she doesn’t need to die!”
“You call for him, see if he comes,” Eichi shortly retorts, pulling off one of
his gloves. “She’s suffering like this. She could kill countless people within
the capital. Do you want to be responsible for that, Tsumugi?”
Terrified, Tsumugi sends an urgent pulse along the faint line he shares with
Rei. It probably won’t work. He has one of those lines with everyone he’s ever
met, a stronger one with those that have affected him strongly, but rarely has
he ever been able to use them for communication. He rarely can with Eichi
either, no matter how much Eichi tries to force him into it. He struggles now,
but Eichi’s guard holds him fast, and he isn’t a physically powerful man.
“Eichi,” he says, trying to make his voice as strong as he can, “don’t hurt
her. Let us try! Let us at least keep her unconscious until we can reach Rei,
I’ll take all the responsibility myself!”
Eichi snorts. “And have you imprisoned or executed for something that could be
concluded so easily? I think not. You’re important.” He turns, leaning over to
pat Tsumugi’s cheek. “Remember, you’re mine, and I’m not letting anyone take
you from me.”
He turns away again, stepping towards the girl and stops next to her. To his
eyes, the magic pours from her in long, sweeping rays of light, vaguely
resembling the long tendrils of wings, but malformed and constantly changing.
He crouches down, rests a hand to her head, and in one fell swoop, all of that
magic seems to retract, dragging itself back into her tiny body, and she reacts
in an instant, her eyes rolling back, entire body seizing up before she
trembles once, and then goes still.
“Well,” Eichi exhales, rising to his feet again and pulling his gloves back on.
The air around them seems to settle in her stillness. “That’s that. Make sure
she’s brought to the Academy. A child blooming this young…that’s something that
needs to be better investigated.”
Tsumugi sags down to the ground, Eichi’s guards releasing him to fall to his
knees, the dirt soiling his cloak. It feels like he used to, back before he’d
bloomed, when he’d been powerless. One tear slides down his cheek, but that’s
cold, too, as cold as the little girl’s lifeless body.
Movement catches his eye, and Tsumugi stands suddenly, eyes wide behind his
spectacles. “There’s--there’s another child,” he croaks, eyes fixed on the
horror-stricken face hiding in the shadows.
“Let his mother deal with him, then,” Eichi dismisses, stepping back over.
“Come along, it’s cold and I want to go home. I dislike being called out in the
middle of the night for such things.”
For the first time in years, Tsumugi ignores the Emperor, stumbling on legs
that feel numb, walking towards the little boy and kneeling in front of him.
“Where are your parents, child?” he asks softly, hoping the boy won’t be too
afraid to talk to him. He’d have been frightened himself--but then again, his
own childhood helps to prove that children can be resilient to all sorts of
horrors.
The little boy hesitates, staring at him with wide eyes through hair the same
brilliant red color as the dead little girl’s. “Gone,” he finally whispers.
“After the wizards came.”
“Tsumugi!” Eichi snaps. “I said come along! He’s not a wizard, is he? Leave
him!”
Rei won’t come in time. Tsumugi can’t trust that. He looks over his shoulder at
Eichi, then holds out his hand. “Do you want to come with me? I live in a big
quiet place with a lot of books, and plenty of food, with a dry warm bed.” It’s
all he would have wanted, at that age.
The boy hesitates again, not reaching out to take Tsumugi’s hand. “Is…is he
going to be there?” He doesn’t look at Eichi, but it’s as clear as day who he’s
talking about.
“Honestly.” Eichi stalks over, shrugging off his guards. “Tsumugi, if you bring
him into the Academy, I’ll toss him right back out,” he snaps. “He’s a citizen
under the crown, and not the Academy’s responsibility. Bringing him in would be
a breach of our agreements, let the Capital handle him.”
“Send someone to take him as a ward of the Crown,” Tsumugi says softly, “or
I’ll bring him to be raised by the Enhanced.” He shifts, standing between Eichi
and the little boy, meeting Eichi’s eyes. “I won’t leave him here.” Rei, if you
can hear me, please, there’s a child that sorely needs you.
Eichi’s lips purse in clear irritation. “First of all, how dare you disobey me.
Second of all, like hell you won’t leave him. You’re so—ugh, boy, are you
nobleborn?” The boy shakes his head rapidly. “Then the crown will put him in an
orphanage, and that’ll be the end of it. Come along, Tsumugi, I don’t have time
for this and I’m cold.”
Finally, there’s a faint touch back against Tsumugi’s mind. In the capital? I
can be there in a day.
Tsumugi turns his back on Eichi, all of his regrets gone cold. “My friend,” he
says, trying to sound friendly when he feels so ill inside, “is a very fun and
kind person, and he wants to come take you somewhere safe and happy. Now, you
can come with me now, but that other man will be there. Or you can find a place
to hide--make yourself very small, and I promise, a very good man will find you
in less than a day, and take you somewhere good.” Please hurry, he’s all on his
own, he thinks desperately. Of course Rei can hear him, when no one else ever
has been able to. There’s an irony in that, he thinks.
I’ll be there as fast as I can. Or, if you’d like to meet me in High Harbor,
you’re welcome to bring him.
 The boy stares back at him for a moment long before he nods, pulls his own
cloak tightly about himself, and takes a step back. “I’ll go hide,” he quietly
says. “I don’t want to go with him.”
“Are you talking to that demon right now?” Eichi flatly asks, stepping forward
to grab Tsumugi by the arm. “You know how I feel about that. This isn’t like
you, Tsumugi, stop it. It isn’t the first time there have been siblings left
behind, for goodness sake!”
With a sad smile, Tsumugi pulls his arm out of Eichi’s hand, then nods to him,
pats the boy on the head, and walks off towards the Academy. Rei is good at
finding people that don’t want to be found. The best thing he can do for the
boy is distance himself.
At least, until that night, when he leaves Eichi sleeping in bed, picks the boy
up from where he’d hidden himself (not well enough, Tsumugi could teach him a
few things about how to hide), and sets off for High Harbor.
It’s another several hours before he meets Rei on the road, riding at night,
with a wave. “This is my friend,” he tells the boy, who he’s learned is named
Mao. “He’s very interesting, but he’d never hurt anyone, especially not a
child.”
Mao stares back at Rei with those enormous eyes of his, and promptly burrows
further back into Tsumugi’s cloak. “His eyes glow. Like a cat’s.”
“Ah, sorry, they do that at night,” Rei apologizes, pulling his horse around
alongside Tsumugi’s. “It doesn’t mean anything, though, I promise.” He offers
Tsumugi up a wry smile. “I’m glad to see you again, my friend. A troublesome
time with the Emperor these days, I hear?”
“I doubt he’ll be pleasant tomorrow,” Tsumugi admits. “But he’s quite
preoccupied lately in any case. Ah, it’s a shame that I didn’t leave with you
when I had the chance, really. This is Mao. Mao, this is Rei.”
“That’s a cute name. Of no particular house, I assume?”
Mao’s head shakes, but he’s still obviously a bit unnerved by him, and Rei lets
it be, glancing away from him for now. “Well, to hell with the Emperor, then,”
he simply says. “If he’s preoccupied and you’re already here, just come with me
the rest of the way to High Harbor and stay there.”
Tsumugi smiles faintly, then looks behind him, where most of his belongings
rest in an old sack. “I may have been hoping you’d say that.”
“Oh, good, your senses have finally come back to you!” Rei snorts, leaning over
to clap a hand against Tsumugi’s back. “Luckily, I’m in need of someone to
manage my estate. You’ll fit the bill splendidly. Underneath His Excellency’s
new laws, wizards can’t own property—ridiculous, if you ask me, but I’m too
obviously a wizard and you…well, you aren’t, thank the gods.”
Tsumugi blinks, then nods in comprehension, closing his eyes and making himself
unnoticed. “I didn’t realize you knew about that trick of mine,” he says
softly. “Did I do it when you were around, or something?”
“I asked around.” Rei’s lips twitch. “Wataru might be sharing the Emperor’s bed
now, but he didn’t in the past.”
“Ah. He was the one who found me as a child, did I ever tell you that?” Tsumugi
turns to look behind him, back towards the Academy, but only once.
“No. But I’m not surprised. He’s a good man, but a complete and utter fool in
love.” Rei heaves a sigh, shutting his eyes as he leans back in the saddle.
“I’m sorry, about how he treated you. I wish I had been able to convince you to
leave before now.”
“There’s little logic that can be spoken to fools in love,” Tsumugi says
softly. “Wataru isn’t the only one.”
“I’m only going to say one more thing about it,” Rei begins, “and that’s going
to be the end of that chapter of your life. All right?”
“Ah, you can say as much as you like,” Tsumugi says, with an apologetic little
shrug. “I won’t stop you, and I’m sure you have a great deal to say about
Eichi.”
“No no, it’s just one thing. And it’s that if you want to be bossed around by
someone attractive, there are plenty of professional services for that.
Consider that the next time you have that urge.”
Tsumugi blinks. “That sounds expensive, doesn’t it? Do you know anyone who’s
good at it?”
“Yes, and yes. Not like price matters—you’re about to be a lord. A very wealthy
one. The wealthiest in all of High Harbor, in fact.” Rei smiles at him, batting
his eyelashes. “And all you have to do is sit pretty for me as a nobleman.
Think you can do that?”
“You need me to pretend to be a nobleman?” Tsumugi casts his mind back to the
noblemen he’s known, and the tiniest tremor runs through him, though he masks
that quickly. “I can probably do that, as long as we aren’t talking to too many
people that would know the truth from the lie.”
“You can be a recluse for all I care. The family I purchased the estate from—we
go a long way back, so they’re in on the whole plot,” Rei says with a flutter
of a hand. “And the son of the captain of High Harbor’s guard…well, our dear
friend Kanata has taken a liking to the little boy, so protect wizards they all
will. It’s a pleasant place, but you’ll still need to hide yourself from Eichi
at all costs. I’ll take care of the glamor charms, you focus on
being…invisible, magically.”
“Not a problem.” And it isn’t. Unless.... “You should know that Wataru can
sense me, even when I’m locked down. At least, he could when I was a child. But
apart from him, I don’t think there’s anyone who can. I’ve gotten better at
hiding since then, though.”
“I’ll deal with Wataru.” Rei squeezes Tsumugi’s shoulder. “Trust me. Not only
will he agree to all of this, but I guarantee…he’ll be too preoccupied to think
of anything else, now that you’re gone.” He pauses, glancing to the boy now
passed out, asleep against Tsumugi’s chest courtesy of the steady, lulling rock
of the horse’s walking. “You must have been very upset to contact me about him.
Might I ask what happened? He seems like a normal human boy…well, albeit one
with a spark of magical talent, but…”
“Eichi murdered his sister.” The words come out quiet, but Tsumugi’s mouth
tightens at the corners. “In front of him. She...bloomed too young. Too strong.
I told him--I told him, Rei, that I’d help her, that you would, but it was
like...like her entire life was just an inconvenience to him. I never thought
he was that cold.”
Rei falls silent for a moment, staring out into the road ahead of them. “I
see,” he finally says, exhaling a long breath. “Yes, unfortunately, that sounds
like him.”
“I didn’t know. That...sounds stupid, doesn’t it? That I could not know?”
Tsumugi shakes his head, irritated at himself. “But it’s true. I thought...that
under his facade, he was a decent person. I thought that when it came down to a
real choice, he’d be on the right side. I almost can’t believe how wrong, how
stupid I was. Ah, in my defense, it’s not like he acts like that with...anyone
else.”
“He doesn’t understand how to be a decent person. That’s not your fault.” Rei’s
eyes lid. “He’s never understood, because he’s not human, no part of him is, no
matter the body that he inhabits. He doesn’t have a moral compass of any sort,
not like you and I, and while he can mimic certain things, he’ll never
understand why they’re good or bad. It’s all cost-benefit. Isn’t that
terrifying?”
“I think you’re wrong,” Tsumugi says softly, head bowed over the child, one arm
around him to hold the reins. “I’ve met...monsters. Who didn’t care what they
did or who they hurt. I’ve seen them, I know how terrible humanity can get.
Eichi isn’t like that either.”
“I didn’t say he was a completely bad person. I said he doesn’t understand the
difference, which is more terrifying, if you ask me. You can tell him all day
why killing that child was wrong, but he will understand only his own
reasoning…because his own opinion matters more.” Rei’s eyebrows raise. “Tell me
you haven’t experienced that first hand from him.”
Tsumugi opens his mouth to object, but closes it again. It’s too easy to think
back over his few years at Eichi’s side, about every decision of his that Eichi
had dismissed, of their few arguments, all of which had ended in Tsumugi
apologizing, even when he’s sure he’d been right. “I don’t think I’m meant to
be with anyone,” he admits. “If I can’t even see that much...”
“It isn’t your fault,” Rei firmly repeats. “He’s just like that. You’ll find
someone else even more beautiful—younger, gods willing—and certainly not as
much of a sociopath. Ah, I said I would only say one thing about it, but I’m
afraid I said far too much, didn’t I. My apologies.”
Tsumugi waves a hand. “No need, I don’t mind being told off. Perhaps if I’d
listened to you earlier, I might...I don’t know. Have been able to save that
little girl, somehow.”
“There’s no use thinking about that,” Rei quietly says. “You’re doing right by
her, taking her brother like this. I’ll make sure he’s taken care of.” He
pauses, thinking. “I have a friend that would be able to help a boy with a
naturally enhanced ability, I think. He’ll certainly want for nothing, if he
has the capabilities I think he will.”
Tsumugi nods. “I’m grateful. I knew you’d know what to do. I just...I hope I’ll
have the opportunity to do more. Because if this is how he makes
decisions...I’m not sure I’ll rest until he isn’t in control any longer.”
“That’s the spirit,” Rei says grimly, offering up a wry smile. “Don’t worry.
We’ll be awake together. I can’t promise it’ll happen overnight, but in due
time…I’ll have the Academy as my own, and no more little girls will die just
because it was past the Emperor’s goddamn bedtime.”
“That sounds like a nice dream,” Tsumugi admits. “I don’t know how useful I can
be, but...consider my allegiance yours, if that’s of any use to you. I’ve
always liked you, Rei.”
“It’s of a great use,” Rei reassures him. “And I’ve always liked you, Tsumugi.
Oh, this is the proper start to a revolution, I do like that.”
Tsumugi shifts, holding the lonely child closer, riding into the night air. “If
you say so, Rei. Then I’m happy.”
***** Chapter 56 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
The dungeons are, at least, clean and dry, which is more than Mao can say to
some of the things he’s seen within the capital walls.
Lantern in hand, he makes his way down the winding stairs, and hangs the light
on the wall once he reaches the bottom, illuminating the room. Tori is in a
separate chamber, insulated thoroughly by layers and layers of magic, but
Keito—Keito is housed like any normal human prisoner, albeit perhaps more
comfortably, courtesy of a gentle bit of favoritism from their Demon King.
“Sir.” Mao exhales a soft breath, and pulls the keys from his belt. “If you’re
awake, I’ve been sent to fetch you.”
Keito opens his eyes, then stands as he’s bidden, dressing methodically. “Very
well. Am I being taken to him, or somewhere else? If you can even tell me.”
“The Emperor’s headed this way, if that’s the ‘him’ you’re referring to,” Mao
says, turning the key in the lock after unhooking a pair of manacles from the
wall. “My apologies for this, sir. I hope I can count on you to be, ah, more
agreeable, than His Excellency Tori…”
“I hope you haven’t been enjoying this too much, Mao,” Keito says, though the
words are more tired than critical. He holds his hands out, letting the heavy
manacles snap and secure into place, wrinkling his nose but not protesting.
“Even when it comes to that brat.”
“I’m really not enjoying this at all,” Mao dryly says, taking a step back to
let Keito out of his cell. “Well…not with you, at least. Tori is another story,
I’m afraid.” He hesitates, then glances away briefly. “Apparently, the Emperor
is still threatening to kill Tsumugi. Rei is hoping that between you and
Tori…he’ll rethink that decision.”
Keito blinks in surprise. “When you said The Emperor is on his way, I assumed
you meant Rei. Ah, I’m to be a hostage, then? Good, you have two of us, you’ll
likely need to kill one to show you’re serious. He thinks Rei is too soft to go
that far, you know.”
“Sorry. Force of habit.” Mao grimaces. “I don’t think Rei will kill either of
you. If he does, it’ll be that brat, not you, but…even if he tried to kill you
to make a point, I’d probably step in. Just so you know.”
Keito turns, and gives Mao a severe look. “Don’t put your neck on the line on
the first day of a new regime,” he says quietly. “Not for me. Every revolution
turns on its dissenters before long. If Rei decides he needs to kill me for
security, I forbid you from getting up on the block next to me, do you
understand?”
“With all due respect, sir,” Mao shortly begins, slamming the cell door shut
behind him. “I was on my way to the Shadowlands with my bonded when I insisted
on turning back to come and warn you about all of this in the first place. The
least I can do now that I’m here is stand up for you properly, especially after
the twenty years you decided to feed and clothe me.”
“A fat lot of good it was worth, if you’re just going to betray me, then throw
your life away anyway. Gods, at least make your principles count for
something,” Keito snaps. Maybe, if he’s irritable enough, Mao will be angry
enough to leave him to his (honestly well-earned) fate. He moves to rub at his
temples as a force of habit, but the manacles prevent him, and he just sighs.
“Your bonded?”
“…Ritsu.” It’s better to just ignore the former, because Keito’s harping won’t
stop even if he comments on it, anyway. “Who will kill me himself if he knows
my plans, I’ve heard it all before.”
“Damn you, boy,” Keito whispers, hands squeezing into fists as he walks. “Your
heart is too big for the position you’re trying to fill. You’ll just wind up
making the people who love you cry.”
“Rei owes me.” It’s said through gritted teeth, though Mao doesn’t entirely
believe it himself. “He won’t kill you. He wouldn’t.”
“What won’t I do?”
Rei’s presence at the foot of the stairwell makes Mao jump, and he curses,
raking a hand back through his hair. Rei just smiles, climbing to his feet and
brushing himself off. “I figured Eichi’s favorite pet would be a bit much for
you to handle, so I’ll escort him myself. Keito, hello. Did Mao brief you, or
shall I?”
“I’ve heard that Eichi is on his way, and you’ll be using myself and Tori as
collateral against the return of Tsumugi,” Keito says, keeping his voice
carefully controlled as he looks only at Rei, pointedly ignoring Mao. “Send the
boy away, Rei. Let him go be with his bonded, this is between the adults.”
“To hell with that, I’m an adult,” Mao snaps, stepping between them as he
glares at Keito. “I’m twenty-six years old and I’ve already seen horrors worse
than what the Em—Eichi can do in this situation!”
“No one is forcing him to stay here, I assure you,” Rei firmly says, placing a
hand upon Mao’s shoulder. “Though I’m inclined to agree with Keito, considering
my little brother’s interests are also—“
“Funny how that has only started mattering now that we’re all here at the same
place and the same time, and he still won’t utter a word to you.”
Rei says nothing to that, and instead steps back, lifting his hand in
surrender. “I’ll be fetching Eichi’s brat, and hopefully, returning the both of
you to him,” he says to Keito instead, his expression impassive. “Because I’m
assuming you still delight in siding with him instead of me.”
Keito swallows hard, then looks away. “Of course,” he says softly. “Do be
reasonable, Rei. I’ve always been on his side, as long as I’ve been alive.” He
licks dry lips, then says, “You’ll need to kill me to show him you’re serious.
Even if he were to ignore the threat to Tori, Yuzuru won’t, and he’d lose far
more in the way of financial assistance from the Himemiya family if he were to
press onward. Tsumugi is a valuable emotional hostage, but not a strategic one.
Do it quickly, before he has a chance to react.”
Rei visibly hesitates at that, then he nods. “You know I don’t want to,” he
quietly says. “If you’d swear to me—I won’t even take you out there to see him.
I’d believe that you were on my side, regardless of the past.”
“It would be a lie.” Keito laughs at himself, quiet and bitter. “Eichi would
probably believe that I turned on him, isn’t that sad? But it’s too late, Rei.
Do what you must. I’ve done enough to warrant the fate you have in mind for me,
don’t worry. Your conscience can be clear.”
He hesitates, then steps a little closer, meeting Rei’s eyes. “But I want you
to know. None of what we shared was ever a lie, or on orders. I...I want you to
know that. Keep that with you. If even one person remembers me like that...I
think it will be enough.”
“I know.” Rei’s lips curl into a faint smile, and he lifts a hand, thumbing
Keito’s cheek. “I know that. I’d taste every lie on your blood if that had been
the case.”
“You’re not allowed to kill him,” Mao quietly says, his arms folding tightly
across his chest. “I won’t let you.”
Rei exhales a long sigh, dropping his hand as he glances back to Mao.
“Honestly, boy—“
“I came back here to make sure that he’d be safe, I’m not leaving if he’s just
going to be killed—“
Rei shuts his eyes briefly. “Wait here,” he orders Keito, and promptly snatches
Mao’s keys off of his belt before grabbing him by the arm and dragging him back
down the aisle of cells.
“Wait—wait, no, I—“
“You can try all of your little wizard-keeper spells on me, but they don’t
work, they just sort of tickle,” Rei grunts, throwing open the door to Keito
cell again and tossing Mao inside instead, locking the door swiftly behind him.
“Like it or not, sacrifices have to be made, and if you think I relish this
one, then you’re a damned fool.”
Mao lunges back at the cell door, giving it a firm shake, then grits his teeth.
“I’ll scream for Ritsu,” he suddenly threatens. “I’ll do it.”
“And he’ll probably tell you the same damned thing: stay put.”
Rei stalks away, jabbing a finger in Keito’s direction. “You’ve raised a
troublesome son,” he snaps, striding away. “Stay there while I get this awful
brat that Eichi cherishes so bloody much.”
Keito sighs in relief, then leans back against the wall. “I’ll go gladly if it
means you’ll survive,” he says, just loud enough for Mao to hear. “Raising you
was probably the one good thing I ever did. I’m glad you came back, just so I
can tell you that. Oh...if you get a chance, my sketchbooks and poetry...you
can have those. I’d like you to. You know where I keep them.”
“To hell with you, you’re not going to die!” Another moment of throwing his
weight against the door, and Mao makes good on his promise. “Ritsu!!!”
“You’re so noisy, forehead!” comes Tori’s snarl from where he’s tossed over
Rei’s shoulder, courtesy of his firm insistence of refusing to walk. He kicks
and squirms uselessly, and Rei looks entirely unfazed by this. “You deserve to
be in jail, not me!”
“That’s quite enough, princess,” Rei wearily says, crooking a finger towards
Keito. “Come along. The wards on this little child take a surprising amount of
effort, and I’m uninterested in maintaining them longer than necessary.” He
hesitates before adding, “If you want to say anything else to him, just in
case—I’ll give you two a moment.”
Keito looks back at Mao, then shakes his head. “I’ve said what I needed to.”
Just then, Ritsu appears in the doorway, looking flustered and uncomfortable.
“What?” he demands, looking around. “What’s wrong, what--oh. Brother. Of course
you’re the cause of whatever I’m being yelled at about.”
Rei takes a moment to look fondly upon Ritsu before Tori decides to kick him in
the head again. “Ah, ow, ow, be sweet, you little hellion.”
“Never!!”
“Your lovely mate will try to tell you I’ve locked him up without any good
reason,” Rei grunts, wrangling Tori into a better position. “But he’s mistaken.
He’s trying to throw himself into some deadly crossfire and I won’t have it.”
“You’re probably doing something stupid,” Ritsu grumbles, folding his arms over
his chest. “Don’t lock up my mate. See, Maao, I told you we should have gone to
the Shadowlands.”
“Let me out,” Mao firmly insists, stretching out a desperate hand from his
cell. “Ritsu, he’s absolutely doing something stupid and I told you that I
needed to be involved, so grab those keys or tear open this door with your
weird superhuman strength and let me out.”
“I wouldn’t lock up your mate if he didn’t need it to stay safe,” Rei says
without skipping a beat. “Ritsu. Eichi is headed this way. This has to be dealt
with, and Mao can’t be in the way of it.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s true,” Ritsu agrees, frowning at Mao. “Brother...if I let you
go, you promise he’ll be safe? And he can come out when you’re done? And he
won’t be in any trouble?”
“We’re wasting time,” Keito says urgently. “He’ll be here any moment, you’ve
got to act now, Rei. Don’t botch this.”
“I’m not botching anything, you nag.” Rei exhales a slow breath. “Mao needs to
stay here, Ritsu. It’s the safest place for him. I can’t trust him not to leap
in front of Keito—“
“For damned good reason!”
“See, there he goes. Have some preservation, he’s your mate,” Rei adds
exasperatedly. “If you have to keep him locked up in a box in worrisome times,
then do it. I’m certainly not letting Shu come out to stand by my side when
Eichi waltzes up to my doorstep.”
“Mm, I guess that’s fair, even if you’re the worst,” Ritsu drawls. He moves,
walking over to stand in front of the bars, frowning at Mao. “He’s trying to
protect you, you know. Shh. It’s fine. You’ll be safe.”
“I don’t care about that!” Mao hisses, reaching out through the bars to grab
Ritsu by the front of his shirt, snatching him close. “You listen to me. If you
don’t let me out of here, I’ll be furious with you, too. I’m not interested in
standing to the side and waiting to let your asshole of a brother control me
anymore, I’m going to be involved in this, whether you like it or not!”
“And we’re going,” Rei hums, ushering Keito up the stairs with a hand against
his back. “Keito is quite right, we don’t have time for this.”
“I hope His Excellency blows all of you up,” Tori sniffs, kicking his feet
again. “You deserve it.”
“Be quite, Tori,” Keito says quietly out of the corner of his mouth, walking
quickly. “You’re the hostage they’re going to return, so shut your mouth and be
grateful. You’ll be with Eichi soon if you just shut up.”
Ritsu throws a glance back at Mao, frowning as the others disappear up the
stairs. “What’s going on? You wanted to warn Keito, but he didn’t listen, so
now I get what I want, and I want to keep you safe.”
“I came back to make sure he wouldn’t die,” Mao presses again in frustration.
“Not to sit here, warn him, and hope for the best. Your brother’s going to kill
him to prove a point, just like he snapped your friend’s bond!”
“To keep Eichi from killing him,” Ritsu points out, leaning against the bars.
“He’s got his reasons. I hate that guy for all the things he’s done, but he has
his reasons.”
“You’re buying into his bullshit just like everyone else.”
Ritsu shrugs one shoulder. “Better than letting my mate die for no reason.”
“It’s not for no reason!” Mao slams a hand against the bars, tears pricking
into his eyes. “Keito is as close to a father as I’ve had since my own parents
abandoned me, so to hell with that! Do you seriously believe in your brother’s
idea of just locking me up if you don’t want me to get into trouble? I’m not
your woman!”
Ritsu stumbles back, startled and hurt. “I--that’s not--I just wanted to keep
you safe, why’s that so bad? Everything is crazy, but my brother wouldn’t do
something really bad, you’ve gotta believe that! Don’t you...believe in him?”
“He led Tsumugi into this situation. He led me into mine, and forced Keito’s
hand on so many occasions that I can’t even count it! That mess with Izumi,
with Makoto—I don’t know what to think of that, but I don’t like it either way.
And are you just—deciding now that you’re over all of the years he decided to
not contact you? To let you think that he was dead?” Mao shakes his head,
stepping back. “I hate every part of this.”
“I’m not over it. I said I hate him for it!” Ritsu says, annoyed. He growls,
then, because he can’t think of anything else to do, grabs the keys from the
wall and unlocks the cell. “But I’m coming with you. And if I think you’re
gonna get yourself killed, I’ll tackle you.”
“Tackle your brother instead, he’s the one trying to kill Keito,” Mao mumbles,
stumbling out of the cell and grabbing Ritsu in a crushing hug. “Sorry—I’m
sorry, but I have to do this, I can’t just let it happen, that’s not right.”
“Whatever,” Ritsu mutters, but he buries his face in Mao’s shoulder anyway.
“Don’t be mad at me, I just love you the most, okay?”
“I’m not mad at you.” Mao’s voice is muffled into Ritsu’s hair. “I’m mad at
your brother. There has to be another way.”
“Well, he’s dumb, so if there is, he probably hasn’t thought about it,” Ritsu
grumbles, taking Mao’s hand and tugging him up the stairs. “You have a plan?”
“…Throw myself in front of Keito and not let your brother get to him but
through me?” Mao winces. “Listen, I know it’s a bad idea, but none of my spells
exactly work on your brother, and he won’t listen to me. Do you think he can
even kill Eichi, if it comes to that?”
“Probably not,” Ritsu admits, “but I dunno. He’s a lot older and scarier than I
am. I don’t know what he can do. And they’re natural enemies, so I’d believe it
if he could actually do it. But yeah, you’re not allowed to let my brother kill
you. He’d do it, to get to Eichi. Hmm, actually...maybe not.” His eyes narrow
as he thinks. “He’d do worse. He’d snap our bond, then kill you, so killing you
wouldn’t kill me.”
“The fact that you just know that and say it without any hesitation makes me
want to scream,” Mao bluntly says. “He sure has a terrible way of showing that
he gives a damn about you, doesn’t he.”
Ritsu shoots Mao a glare. “It’s not easy to be the Demon King,” he mutters.
“And you don’t get to say stuff like that, because you kept a lot of stuff from
me forever. You both suck.”
“I kept things from you because he made me,” Mao wearily points out. “I’m not
going to stop judging him for the way he’s handled a good deal of our lives,
sorry.” He grabs Ritsu’s hand all the same, giving it a squeeze. “I’ll do my
best not to get killed, though. I don’t want anyone else to die in this mess.”
Ritsu pauses to look around, then leans in to give Mao a sudden hard kiss,
letting him go with a slow nod. “If it’s you, I’ll haunt you,” he says flatly.
“Wait, the other one. I’ll follow you. So if you think about doing something
stupid, remember you’ll be seeing me soon, and I’ll be angry.”
Mao tastes blood in his mouth, and he swallows, nodding. “I’m not going
anywhere,” he says, more firmly this time. “Because you’re not allowed to die
either. I spent my life making sure you were safe, I’m not screwing it up now.”
“Then...let’s go save some people or whatever,” Ritsu says with a sigh,
following along after Mao. “Just tell me what to do.”
***** Chapter 57 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
 Wataru, where are you?
 Wataru, can’t you hear me?
 Wataru…I know you want to come meet me…
 Wataru’s silence makes Eichi unhappy. He takes this out on the world around
him by examining the flowers that now seem to bloom within every single crack
and crevice of the capital with disdain, never mind the pleasant fragrance they
bring. It’s distracting, it’s annoying, it’s not the roses that he wants from
Wataru’s hand instead, and the sheer absence of guards about the palace walls
makes Eichi take note. It’s not an invitation to let himself inside, it’s a
challenge.
“That’s enough of those ugly weeds.” With one step into the palace courtyard,
every newly bloomed plant within sight begins to wither, and Eichi sighs in
satisfaction. “That’s better. Quite a mess he’s made of your kingdom, hmm,
Leo?”
“It’s different,” Leo says softly, looking around at the withering flora. He
picks his way through what was once a busy, bustling courtyard, filled with
attendants and courtiers and life, now reduced to rubble and vegetation. “It
looks like it’s been dead a hundred years. Where...are the people?”
“Informed of your arrival, and hiding, as they should be.”
Unceremoniously, Rei steps down from the front stairs of the palace, dumping
Tori onto the ground in a heap of writhing limbs and high-pitched shrieks.
“Excellency!” Tori hisses, trying to haul himself to his feet even with his
ankles and wrists bound behind his back. “Excellency, he’s been so mean to me,
and—and—Yuzuru, slave, why weren’t you here to save me?!”
“Also,” Rei drawls, folding his arms, “I don’t appreciate you killing my
garden.”
“If you think that’s a garden, you’ve gone crazier in your old age than I
thought,” Eichi flatly says. He pauses, sparing a look to Tori, then over his
shoulder to Yuzuru. “Look, see? I told you he’s too soft-hearted to kill such a
lovely child.”
There are tears in Yuzuru’s eyes, and he slowly draws out two long-bladed
knives, eyes burning as he faces Rei. “You’ll release his Excellency
immediately,” he orders, voice shaking. “Or I’ll send you to hell myself!”
“Oi, Rei,” Leo calls, stepping in front of Yuzuru without paying him any
attention. “Can we talk? I’m here to negotiate and stuff. On my own side, not
on anyone else’s.”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Rei says, barely offering Yuzuru a glance. “I’d
love to talk. First things first, however; there’s a pressing issue. Eichi—“
“You’ll address me properly or not at all.”
“Eichi,” Rei pointedly repeats, unfazed, “return Tsumugi to me. If you do that,
I’m willing to negotiate beyond it.”
Eichi pauses, as if he’s actually thinking about it for a moment. “No.”
“You’re not getting anything out of this,” Leo hisses out of the corner of his
mouth, glaring at Eichi even as that stupid fondness spills over, and he has to
fight down the urge to touch Eichi’s cheek. “You’re being petulant, he’s not a
war criminal or anything.”
“Let me talk to him,” Keito offers, walking into the courtyard led by a guard,
hands still bound. “Hello, Eichi.”
“Oh, look, a delightful voice of reason,” Eichi cheerfully says, reaching over
to pat Leo’s head as he smiles at Keito. “Hello, Keito. I see you’re being kept
under lock and key as well. I thought with your past as part of our Demon
King’s harem, you would be treated a bit more gently.”
Keito sighs, looking as though he’d very much like to be rubbing his temples,
if not for the heavy manacles. “You’re not making anything easier,” he says
with a huff. “He’s willing to give you Tori back, don’t you want the little
gremlin?”
Yuzuru lets out a pained noise, and looks back at Eichi. “Excellency,
please...”
Eichi holds up a hand for Yuzuru’s silence. “Of course I want him back, and you
as well. The problem, you see, is that all your Demon King wants in return is
something I’m not willing to give.”
“Allow me to encourage you, then,” Rei quietly says, pulling the sword from
Keito’s guard’s belt, and shoving Keito none-too-gently to his knees. “Return
him, or Keito will be the first to die, and my offer will continue to diminish
from there.”
“I would have kneeled,” Keito grumbles, and closes his eyes. He breathes in
through his nose, then out slowly, mentally reciting a prayer his father had
taught him, long before he’d ever heard of Demons that walked among humans.
Leo’s eyes go wide, and he frowns, striding forward. “What crime has that man
committed?” he demands, looking into Rei’s eyes. “And what trial has he faced?”
“This is beyond you, child,” Rei lowly warns, and glances to Eichi, eyes
narrowed. “Tell your mate to step back, or I’ll have him removed myself.”
“For once, I’ll agree with you, he does like getting in the way of delicate
matters,” Eichi grouses, his own gaze sharp. “Leo. Come back to my side.
Yuzuru, fetch Tsumugi for me, won’t you?”
Yuzuru runs off, but Leo doesn’t back down, glaring at Rei and Eichi in turn.
“This is my country,” he growls, hair bristling, hands balled into fists at his
sides. “And we follow the rule of law. I was going to give you a chance, but
you can’t just execute people to get your way!”
“Forgive me, Your Highness, but I cannot recall the last time you attempted to
claim your place on the throne,” Rei coolly retorts, stabbing the sword into
the earth and from it, every flower previously murdered by Eichi’s hand swiftly
swells and turns green again. “This is also not a matter of the crown at
current, but a matter of the Academy, and as I am both Emperor and King, you’ll
find me able to do as I wish.” He waves a hand towards Keito. “This man is a
traitor to both of my stations, refusing to follow me, and has declared his
loyalty to Eichi on every occasion. Execution is a fit punishment when he has
conspired against me in secret, though I did offer him up alive, and still
would, if you could convince Eichi to do a perfectly fair trade.”
Eichi snorts out a laugh. “How typical. This is what he does, Leo,” he insists,
stepping forward, grabbing for Leo’s hand. “He’s so very good at making himself
look like he’s in the right, when in reality, he’s the cause of all of this.
Don’t worry your little head about Keito, however; Rei loves to talk about
murder, but for a half-breed, he’s pathetically squeamish.”
“That man is my friend,” Leo growls, shaking off Eichi’s hand. He turns to face
Rei, setting his shoulders. “And if this is the kind of kingdom you’re going to
run, then I do declare you to be a traitor to my lawful claim to the throne.
Sword, coin, spell, and--”
“Ahh, howamazing! All of us in the same spot at last!” Wataru enters, arm
around Natsume’s waist, eyes glittering like cold gems despite the beaming
smile on his face. “Hello, Eichi, my love.”
“Finally,” Eichi breathes, his entire expression shifting to one of delight.
“Could you not hear my voice, love? Ahh, I’m afraid I’ve been so distracted,
though not purposefully, I—“
“Where’s Tsumugi?” Natsume lowly asks, clutching to the tail end of Wataru’s
hair, no matter how he tries to square his shoulders.
Eichi scowls, annoyed that he’s been interrupted. “I’ll come back to you,
little cat,” he snorts, stepping forward to brush past Leo and reach for one of
Wataru’s hands. “We’ll rebuild those wings of yours,” he breathes. “Wataru—my
Wataru, you’re lovely even without them, come stand by me once more.”
Wataru smiles, and doesn’t move. “It was such a droll game,” he says, voice
echoing across the courtyard, though he doesn’t try to project it. “When you
made your moves. I laughed, when you had me chase your enemies down--ruthless,
but beautiful! You were like a star in the sky, that only shone for me.”
His smile widens, but becomes more brittle, too. “And now, the jester will sing
his song in another hall, one where the king doesn’t leave his fool behind just
because his hat was stolen away.”
Eichi’s expression falters, then falls, his fingers falling just short of
Wataru’s hand. “I don’t understand,” he says softly, slowly dropping his arm.
“Wataru—Wataru, you know I love you. You know…I would give anything to be
bonded to you, not to this…this obnoxious little human!”
His face twists, and he surges forward, shoving Natsume aside to grab at the
front of Wataru’s shirt, his grip white-knuckled. “I haven’t left you behind!
I’m here now, aren’t I? The only reason I ever looked away—it was for both of
us, to save both of us, if I had died when Shu attacked you, what would you
have done then?!”
Wataru shakes his head, and a dove flies from his fingers, bursting into
freedom. “Ah, look at her fly! But in the end, she’ll circle back to where my
room was, and happily back into her cage, you know. Such is the fate of any
trained bird or storyteller, who must sing the same songs night after night to
ensure that their master never stops feeding them.”
He cocks his head to the side, and smiles again. “I forgive you completely,
Eichi. And I love you, with all my heart. But I won’t be flying back into that
cage again, not when the place you’ve carved for me has another name carved
into the perch. So perhaps we must fight, in the end!”
Yuzuru reappears, dragging a bound and gagged Tsumugi behind him, tossing the
man down at Eichi’s feet, looking around to make sure he hasn’t missed
anything. “Can we please get my master back now?” he asks urgently.
“Tsumugi—“
 Rei abandons his watch over Keito and Tori to grab Natsume around the waist
mid-lunge, stopping him from immediately rushing over. “Let me go! Let me go,
Lord Rei, I have to help him!“
Eichi’s stare is like steel as he turns away, stalking over to Tsumugi,
wrenching him up by a hand in his hair.  “Yes, Yuzuru,” he coldly says, “we’ll
make sure to retrieve your master in short order. But first things first.”
“Eichi, don’t—“
“Are you pleading with me?” Eichi taunts, his gaze unwavering as he looks back
at Rei. “That’s lovely. Why don’t you beg a bit more, you disgusting half-
breed? Or no, I’ll give you another option, a different trade! Give me your
brother, and I’ll give you this wretch that your seer seems s~o fond of!”
Rei’s jaw clenches at that, but he says nothing, no matter how frantically
Natsume looks back up at him, and Eichi laughs, his fingers tightening white-
knuckled in Tsumugi’s hair. “That’s what I thought. Sacrifice is all well and
good until you have to give something up, isn’t it? It’s fine for others to die
so long as you aren’t directly affected, hmm?” He bends low, staring into
Tsumugi’s eyes. “This is who you trusted your life with,” he breathes. “Does
that feel like a smart choice now?”
“Excellency, there has to be another way!”
Eichi looks up, only vaguely interested until he catches sight of who the voice
belongs to, and more importantly, who trails beside him. “Ahhh, the handsome
traitor and my favorite half-breed. Ritsu, there’s a place in my kingdom for
you and your lover, even if he has been an active nuisance for…oh, how long?”
“I have no desire to be in your kingdom,” Mao shortly says. “But killing His
Excellency Tsumugi, he—“
“That’s enough of this debate, I’m tired of it.”
With one, last switch of his grip, Eichi’s fingers slide to the back of
Tsumugi’s neck, and barely a second passes before the life leaves him in an
audible rush, the force of his magic escaping his body in one last breath that
leaves his lungs. Eichi lets Tsumugi’s lifeless body drop to the ground, and he
pulls out a handkerchief to wipe the blood and sweat from Tsumugi’s hair from
his fingertips, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.
“Come here, my little songbird,” Eichi orders Leo, crooking his finger. “Now,
Rei, you can stop threatening to kill what’s mine and hand them over, or I’ll
seek out your arrogant whore next.”
Leo stares in horror, frozen in place as if he must have missed something, must
have been wrong somehow, because how can any of this be? How can this man, the
one he’s slept with, the one he’d thought he could persuade, the one he’d
teased and laughed with and entertained...how can he possibly be this
heartless?
A part of him (a foolish, stupid, childish part, he now realizes) had thought
that it was posturing, that Eichi truly wanted to be stopped. But this man,
standing tall and handsome, is fairly irked by the fact that he’d just murdered
one of his oldest friends.
The bond pulls at him, and he looks back, licking his lips as he looks over his
shoulder at Rei. I don’t know if there’s anything you can do, he thinks, but I
hope this could help.
I’m so sorry, Izumi.
 That feels better. It’s with Izumi’s name on his lips, Izumi’s face in his
mind that he walks back to Eichi’s side, nuzzling under his chin, molding
himself to Eichi’s side.
Then, in a fluid motion, he pulls out his dagger and plunges it into Eichi’s
heart with every ounce of strength he has.
The sharp, coppery taste of blood fills Eichi’s mouth, and he chokes, coughing
as he shoves Leo back, his eyes blazing far too blue as he rips the daggers
straight from his heart and tosses it to the ground. “You traitorous little
brat,” he breathes, spitting blood. “Did you really think that would work? My
bonded you might be, but if you think I’m incapable of keeping you on that
collar and chain that you so desperately seem to desire after this—“
Then, his voice catches in his throat, stopped short by the fact that his
breath seems to refuse to come in full.
“Take him,” Rei lowly insists, shoving a trembling, wide-eyed Natsume into
Wataru’s arms as he steps forward, grabbing Leo and shoving him back behind
himself, away from Eichi as he tries to reach out and touch him. “Have you not
figured it out yet, Eichi?” he softly asks. “I thought for sure you would have,
after taking Tsumugi as your own again, but…”
“What,” Eichi rasps, his breath hiccuping again, a wet, rasping sound in his
chest as his knees buckle, toppling him to the ground, “did you do, you filthy
demon?”
Rei stares down at him through his lashes, then heaves a sigh. “You’ve tried
for so long to force others to value you,” he quietly says. “Without valuing
them. Yet…you seemed to understand that I valued Ritsu so…so very much, to the
point you dared taint him with pieces of yourself, as if that could keep me
away. Unfortunate, that you decided that the two people that would and could
place so much value in you were disposable.” He smiles. “First, Wataru. My mate
took care of that, severing those wings you made him from your own breath.
Second, Tsumugi. He gladly took on the burden you tried to deposit into my
brother, that disgusting little piece of your soul, that night you pushed him
away forever.” Rei’s eyebrows raise. “Tsumugi did say he knew how to kill you,
didn’t he? You should have taken him far more seriously.”
“He told me,” Leo whispers, feeling his own body start to tremble, as if it’s
disintegrating at the joints. “Tsumugi. Told me--not to stop it, because of
what he...took, he--Rei, is Izumi here?” he asks, voice plaintive as he sags
down to the ground, eyes fixed on Eichi. His heart doesn’t even hurt anymore.
It feels cold, and labored, as if each beat is resentful, as if it knows how
few it has left and is trying to make them last.
Wataru obscures his vision suddenly, kneeling in front of Eichi, taking that
beautiful face in his long-fingered hands, crystalline tears in his eyes. “I’ll
always love you,” he says, quiet enough for only Eichi to hear. “Not because
you forced me to. Because of who you were to me.”
“No, no, to hell with you, I’m not dying, I can’t die—“ Eichi insists, lurching
up to grab at Wataru, hating the compulsion to grab for Leo with every labored
breath that still tries to heave itself from his lungs. He gasps, clinging to
Wataru’s neck, blinking hard, the world switching vibrantly from Wataru’s face
to the startling tendrils of magic that pour from each wizard’s body in only
his viewpoint. “Wataru, I…”
He tastes fresh blood on his tongue, and shudders, shutting his eyes. “I’m so
sorry,” he whispers, reaching towards Leo for something only he can see, and
closing a hand around it—a long, golden cord that he rips in two, withering
with the last bit of his strength as that last breath leaves his lungs.
Darkness closes around Leo--and then, abruptly, vanishes. His heart starts
thudding regularly again, breath returning to his lungs, and he looks around
wildly, in time to see Wataru slump to the ground, shoulders shaking. “I...I’m
alive?” he whispers, feeling as if he’d awakened from a dream. There’s
something in him that feels like a scar, raw and swollen, but he is,
undeniably, alive. He spins on Rei, eyes wide, grabbing at his cloak. “I...you
were going to let me die.”
Rei’s head cocks, and he offers Leo a little ghost of a smile. “Not
intentionally. It’s difficult to plan for such strong bonds. Aren’t you glad
that your mate was generous in his last moments, if no other time? I held out
hope for that, at least,” he says, and then his gaze sweeps to Yuzuru. “Swear
to me, your new Emperor, or forsake your master’s life.”
Mao lurches forward, grabbing for Keito with trembling hands, nearly dropping
the keys to his manacles five times over to free him. “I’m sorry—I’m sorry, but
thank the gods that you’re all right—“
Keito squeezes Mao’s hand, nods to him, then runs to Eichi’s side, dropping to
his knees with a sob, head bowed, across from Wataru.
Yuzuru drops to a knee, face nearly frantic with worry. “My allegiance is to my
master first,” he warns. “Please, let him go, he’s just a boy, I swear to you
I’ll never work against you.”
Rei glances back over his shoulder, and though Mao hesitates, he nevertheless
warily unlocks Tori’s own chains. Tori barely remains on the ground for a
second more before throwing himself to Yuzuru, sobbing as he clings to his
neck, face buried there firmly.
“You let him die.”
The words are quiet as Natsume finally speaks, standing in the same spot,
unmoving except for his trembling hands, clenched at his sides. “You…you knew
about all of this, and you let him die.”
Rei exhales a slow breath, turning to him. “Yes. Natsume, I—“
“I hate you! I hate you, all of you, this isn’t fair!”
The very ground beneath their feet rumbles threateningly, and Rei reaches out,
grabbing Natsume close, crushing him hard against his chest until that rumbling
stops, until it’s less the ground that’s trembling and just Natsume himself,
sobbing freely into his chest, clinging to his cloak with white-knuckled
fingers. Rei sucks in a slow, even breath, and strokes a hand down Natsume’s
hair. “Mao,” he quietly says, unable to meet Ritsu’s eyes, either, “would you
please show Leo inside? I’ll handle all of this.”
“I’ll send Lord Shu as well,” Mao quietly says, straightening to his feet.
“Come, Your Highness, if you would.”
“No need to send for me,” Shu says, appearing behind Rei, where he’d been
remaining invisible, just in case they needed reinforcements at the last
minute. Without saying another word, he wraps his arms around Natsume, holding
him close between the two of them, eyes closed. “It’s finally over,” he
whispers, hardly able to believe it.
Rei sags visibly, the tension finally flooding from him, and he tips forward,
his forehead knocking against Shu’s as he snakes his arms around both Natsume
and Shu alike. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry—you’ve been through so
much, and if there had been any other way, I would have taken that path
instead, I swear to you.”
“You need to know,” Shu says quietly. “Rei gave him the choice, back in High
Harbor. It was Tsumugi’s idea. Rei offered to take it from him, but...he
thought he’d rather it be him than anyone else.”
“But you k-knew—you knew this whole time, no matter what, that he’d die, that
there wasn’t anything I could do to change it—“
Natsume’s entire body heaves in a sob, and he releases Rei with a shove,
forcing his way out of both of their arms, his face blotchy and tear-streaked.
“I don’t want to hear you say that you’re sorry again, because I don’t believe
you,” he whispers before turning swiftly, the sound of his heels striking
against stone as he runs all that remains.
Rei’s lower lip trembles before he bites it, and he sucks in a shaky breath,
shutting his eyes. “I owe you an apology as well,” he manages to say, his hands
gently squeezing against Shu’s hips. “For…gods, for everything. I’ll never see
you hurt in my stead again, I refuse.”
“Not now, my lord,” Shu says softly, reaching up to stroke Rei’s face. “We have
eternity for that nonsense. Now, we have work to do. Wataru?”
“I’ll go after him,” Wataru says quietly, closing Eichi’s sightless eyes. He
stands, leaving Keito behind, still weeping. “Someone who’s just lost a part of
themselves should.”
When he moves, it’s almost as if he has his wings again, almost as if he flies
off to chase Natsume. He doesn’t, of course. Shu had made certain of that.
He turns back to Rei, and asks, “What will you do with Leo? That was a brave
thing he did. It should have killed him.”
“He and I…have a great deal to speak about,” Rei quietly says, drawing in a
steadying breath and feeling as if he’s aged at least five hundred years. How
unpleasant. He lifts a hand, rubbing it across the backs of his eyes. “I took a
bet on the sliver of humanity that Eichi might have had in him,” he admits with
a ragged laugh. “A lucky gamble. It isn’t as if I wanted the boy to die. But
first, he can reunite with his lover, and…I will deal with this.”
He pulls away from Shu, drifting over to Keito, and places a hand against his
back. “He deserves a proper wizard’s burial,” he quietly says. “Both of them
do. You don’t have to be a part of it, but you’re welcome to be.”
Keito reaches up, then removes Rei’s hand from his back. “Don’t talk to me
right now,” he says hoarsely. “You...did what had to be done. I’ll swear to
you. But...not now. Please. Leave me alone with him for a few more minutes.”
Rei nods, saying nothing, and withdraws, turning back to Shu. “Will you
please,” he begins, proud that his voice remains steady (for now, not that it
matters, Shu is in his head), “do me one favor?”
“Anything, my lord,” Shu says immediately, holding his gaze without flinching,
as so few can.
“Handle this mess for half an hour, while I lock myself up and cry like a child
in the privacy of our bedroom.”
Shu nods, and sends a mental brush of love, comfort, and reassurance, turning
to start directing guards and servants in several tasks. Go, my lord. My love.
You’ve done the hardest part already. I’ll do the rest for now.
***** Chapter 58 *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
Leo feels as if he’s in a daze. A few things drive him on, and his feet keep
walking one in front of the other, dragging him farther into the Palace that
used to be his home, and is now the scene of so much death and decay. Numbly,
he stops before the room that used to belong to his father, only to find it
locked, with a sign tacked to it.
Little Prince,
 Leave me alone. Yes, I’ll give you your kingdom, but if you knock on this door
right now I’ll burn you down to your bones. :) Go find your lover, he’s in the
visiting diplomat suite.
Leo stares at the note for a long few minutes, as if it’ll make sense if he
reads it a few more times. Then, tempted as he is to knock just to see if Rei
is being serious, he turns, walking, then finding himself running, towards the
visiting diplomat suite. He intends to fling it open, but it’s locked, and he
sort of throws himself against the door, feeling his determination crumble.
“Izumi?” he whispers, scratching plaintively at the wood. “Are you in there?”
There’s a long moment before the locks on the door warily turn. The door
eventually creaks open, with Izumi warily peering out around the corner of it,
hand on the hilt of his sword. He’s not entirely convinced that he isn’t
hearing things, or that this isn’t some kind of a wizard’s trick, or—
But it’s Leo, in the flesh, albeit looking more than just a little chewed up
and dazed, and Izumi sucks in a sharp breath, throwing open the door and
immediately grabbing him close. “You idiot,” he breathes. “How are you even
real?”
The tears that hadn’t come earlier start slowly leaking out of his clenched-
tight eyes, and Leo’s hands bunch in Izumi’s shirt as the first ragged sob
wracks him. “I’m s-sorry,” he whispers, body trembling, throat raw. “I’m--I’m
so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m s-s-so fucking sorry--”
“Shh, shh, don’t start crying, I’ll start crying, no one has time for that,”
Izumi frantically hisses, dragging Leo firmly into the room and slamming the
door shut. He grabs Leo by the shoulders, pushing him back just enough to get a
good look at his face. “Are you all right?” he urgently presses. “Where’s—what
happened? All these damned wizards, they’re so closed off about everything, no
one’s saying a damned thing and you’re like this…”
“He’s dead.” It doesn’t seem real, it doesn’t seem real, so Leo tries saying it
again, and again, and again. “He’s--he’s dead, because I killed him, Izumi, I
knew it would kill him and I did it, I thought I was--but he--” His voice
spikes, almost into hysteria. “But he--he saved--and I don’t--”
Izumi grabs his face, dragging Leo forward, and kisses him soundly, cutting him
off from the frantic words that want to leave his mouth. “Stop,” he whispers,
“and then try again. I’m here.”
Leo hiccups, then nods, trying to suck in enough air to form real words,
calming himself with every breath. “Eichi’s dead.” It still doesn’t sound real,
but it feels real. The warm place in his heart, the one that made him lurch
blindly toward Eichi no matter what, feels cold and withered. “He’s dead. I
killed him. I--I knew how to do it, but he--he killed Tsumugi, and I...” He
swallows hard, dashing the tears from his face, embarrassed at his lack of
ability to control himself. “I let him. I had to, it was the only way, he asked
me to.”
“Good riddance.” The word escape before he can bite them back, and Izumi
pauses, considering an apology, but those words, instead, won’t come. “I mean
that. Good. The thought of him touching you made me want to kill myself,” he
admits with a ragged laugh, running his fingers back through Leo’s hair. “But
if he’s dead…and you’re alive…that can’t be, there was a bond, wasn’t there?”
That thought makes Leo’s stomach turn, but he nods, squeezing his eyes shut
again. “He...just before. When he...knew he was dying. He broke it.” He wraps
his arms around himself, then thuds his head into Izumi’s chest. “I think he
really did love me. Shit, I don’t know how to feel about that.”
“It’s impossible not to love you, so try not to read too much into it,” Izumi
mutters, sliding his arms tight around Leo to give him a firm squeeze. “But
you’re all right? It doesn’t…it doesn’t hurt? You seem fine, but gods, what do
I know…”
Leo shrugs. “I don’t think I feel anything. Heh, if anything...I feel like I
woke up. From a long time of forgetting, like--ahhhhh!” he suddenly yells,
wild-eyed. “Izumi! We have to get your daughters, I know where they are, I just
remembered!”
Izumi leans back, staring at him impassively. “Incredible. Thanks, Milord, but
I already got them, no thanks to you.”
Leo’s knees buckle. “Oh, thank the gods,” he says with relief. “You...you got
my note? I can’t remember--”
“Not until after I had found them! Gods, your brain really is scrambled all
around in there, isn’t it?” Izumi grumpily retorts, folding his arms across his
chest. “I only just returned to the damned capital. That note has been rotting
with my mother for weeks. You couldn’t have told me when we met up before that
you knew where they were?”
“We--did we meet up after that?” Leo asks, blinking wide, dazed eyes. “Arrrrgh,
everything is all jumbled, I can’t--I can’t think, it’s all a blur, ever since
I met him...”
Izumi scowls back at him for a moment before he shakes his head, turning away
to flop down onto the foot of his bed. “Well, you’re rid of him now. Time to be
unscrambled. Rei said he would surrender the kingdom to you if you returned,
have you spoken to him?”
“I went to talk to him, but he’s not...seeing anyone right now,” Leo admits. He
wavers on his feet, wanting to walk closer, wanting to be closer, but...so, so
much has happened. “Izumi...are you...I mean...I know we’ve both...been through
a lot. But...ah, what I’m saying--not important, I still love you!”
“I know that. And when you take that throne, I’ll be the first to kneel at your
feet.” Izumi looks back at him, eyebrows raised. “I’ve more or less killed
myself to get you  here and to this point. You’re not having second thoughts,
are you?”
Leo sags down to his knees, looking up through tear-filled green eyes. “I
figured you would be,” he says dully. “I haven’t...been much of the king you
thought I could be. Or even the man. Or...even close,” he finishes on a
whisper, looking down at his hands. “You could do better.”
“Stop kneeling, kings don’t kneel,” Izumi mutters, biting his lip as he glances
away, irritated on about three different levels, least of all with Leo. “You’re
right, I could. But I still love you, so stop making me feel bad about it. Get
up and act like a man if you insist upon it, tell me what you want from me.” He
rubs a hand across the back of his eyes, heaving a long, shaky sigh. “Leo, I’m
so tired.”
“I want you,” Leo says, climbing back to his feet because he has to, not
because he feels like he can, “to kneel. At my feet.”
Izumi blinks back at him, then slowly slides off the bed, dropping to his knees
in front of Leo. “Milord?”
Leo looks down at himself, and firms his resolve. He draws his sword, stepping
back, and resting it on Izumi’s shoulder. “B-by...” No, he’s got to be better
than this, for Izumi. He strengthens his voice, wishing he didn’t hate himself
so much. “By my holy iron...” He’s imagined this a thousand times, but Izumi’s
always been looking at him with affection in those daydreams, not with weary
disappointment, and he never feels like a beaten-down failure. “Your oath, your
bond, your lifeblood is mine, until I release you, or death take you. And my
protection, my honor, and my hearth are your haven.”
This…isn’t exactly when, or how Izumi expected this to happen, but that’s Leo,
very quintessentially Leo, and words choke up in his throat for a moment before
he can fumble through his own part. “I…I promise, on my faith, that I will be
loyal and faithful to my lord,” he eventually manages. “To never cause him
harm, to observe my oath to him before all others without deceit, until death
destroys and parts me from him.” He sucks in a sharp breath, forcing himself to
look up. “If…my king will have me.”
Leo drops his sword, and falls to his knees again, grabbing Izumi in a hug,
then a fierce kiss. “Of course I will,” he whispers, kissing him again for good
measure, hands tangled in silvery starlight hair. “My bastard knight.”
A more eloquent response ends up stuck on Izumi’s tongue, and instead, he just
sobs, grabbing for Leo and kissing him again. “It’s about damned time,” he
whispers, his voice wet. “Fuck you, does it take being apart from me so
thoroughly for you to finally take my advice?”
“I’m a selfish, stupid king,” Leo says through a wet laugh, scooting forward
until he’s nearly in Izumi’s lap, sword forgotten on the floor. “S-so be the
knight I need, all right? You’re--ugh, you’ll have to fight Kuro for the
captaincy since you were never my squire, sorry, but I’ll still put you on the
Kingsguard. There, I’ve just done it, you’re on it.”
“Gods, but you make me so tired all the time,” Izumi groans without any real
irritation, slumping back against the foot of the bed and pulling Leo close to
him to bury his face into his hair. “I’ll shove him off a damned cliff if I
have to. I don’t have time to answer to someone else that isn’t you, there’s
too much that needs to be done around here.”
Leo nods dumbly, curling up against Izumi’s chest. “I so badly want to just
push everyone away and deal with it tomorrow, you know? But...a king doesn’t
have that privilege. Sounds like shit, doesn’t it? Why does anyone want this
stupid job?”
“Well, I suppose if Rei hasn’t formally handed you the throne yet, you’ve got a
few hours yet,” Izumi wryly points out, shutting his eyes as his head knocks
back against the wood of the footboard, and he lifts a hand to slowly pet Leo’s
hair. “I have to go back North in a few days, anyway, to settle a few matters.
First I’ll deal with this Kingsguard mess, but…”
“It’s fine,” Leo says softly, nuzzling into Izumi’s hand. “Family things--I’ll
send an official apology to your mother on behalf of the crown as well,
so...hopefully we can really have peace.”
“She’d probably appreciate that,” Izumi says, and adds, rather carefully,
“Considering the combined armies of the North and West are much larger than
anything the capital has to boast of at the moment.”
“Mm, I figured he’d be siding with you,” Leo says with a nod. “Good, good, I
like a combined force. I’ll be deferring to him for advice on the matter of
patrolling our borders. Help me think of a good title for him, I want to make
it clear that he’s in my favor.”
“Well, I know he wanted to be Vice-Captain of the Kingsguard,” Izumi deadpans,
pulling on a strand of Leo’s hair gently. “But that requires being too close to
the capital, so we’ll see if he’s still interested. Otherwise…something good
and flashy.” There’s no easy way to say this, or to sugarcoat it. “We’re
combining our houses, Arashi and I—as much as the North allows, at any rate,
but it’s more than the capital will.”
Leo blinks for a moment, trying to process that information. “Oh. Is he
marrying your daughter? Or has he got a sister I don’t know about?”
“No, I’ve sworn off women forever,” Izumi mutters, glancing aside. “And he’s
more a father to my daughters than anything, I…Leo, you and I, you’re never
going to marry me.”
“...Oh.”
The simple, honest statement sinks into Leo like a stone into cold water, and
even the ripples feel like ice. Slowly, he sits up, disentangling himself from
Izumi’s embrace. “I’ve...been a very blind fool, I think. I’m sorry.”
“No—Leo, come back,” Izumi protests, grabbing him by the waist to haul him back
down. “Listen to me. You didn’t argue with me just now, did you? You know you
aren’t going to marry me.” Saying it again makes his chest tighten, and Izumi
swallows hard. “You can’t. So what, I’m expected to leave that be? I love you,
more than anything, but you can’t promise me that I’ll ever be able to be with
you, you aren’t even tryingto promise that.” He sucks in a quick breath. “And I
know that’s unfair but I don’t care. I want you and I can’t have you, that’s
unfair, too.”
“Stop it,” Leo whispers, wiping at his face, though he doesn’t try to pull
away. “I’m--you’re right, so I’m just trying to be a good person, you know?
Grandfather...he always told me that when you become a king, you stop being a
man who gets what he wants. That’s why I’m not lying--you’re probably going to
be happier with him than, than I could...”
Damn his traitorous eyes tearing up when he’s trying to be mature. “Just...I’m
not expecting you to wait on my pleasure or anything. Be happy. I hope you can
be.”
“Screw being a good person, I wanted you to tell me not to,” Izumi mutters,
loosening his hold. “To forbid it, or something, tell me you had a plan in the
works. I’d wait for you.” Tears spring up into his eyes again, and he sniffs,
looking away. “I’ve waited this l-long, what’s twenty more years or however
long it takes? N-neither of them will ever love me like you love me but that
doesn’t matter if you aren’t even going to lie to me for five minutes to make
me believe you really want me to stay. Be fucking mature when you run your
kingdom, n-not when you’re with me!”
Leo spins, eyes wild, looking startled. “W-what? After--after all the time
telling me to be serious, now you want me to have wild dreams?” Without even
expecting it, he bursts into laughter, throwing his head back and crowing with
it. “That’s my Izumi! Wahahaha!”
“To hell with you,” Izumi sniffles, huddling back up into a ball, glowering at
Leo through red, teary eyes. “You’re just making me mad now. I’m tired, you
don’t want to marry me, you just want to marry some stupid noble girl, even
though you’ve never even touched tits a day in your life!”
This time, Leo doesn’t even blink at Izumi’s changeable nature. He just beams,
a dopey smile on his face. “You can do whatever you want. Because I know now
that you’re my destiny, you know. If what happened before hasn’t ripped us
apart, nothing ever will. So I’m not scared of losing you anymore, not to
anyone or for any reason.”
Izumi sniffs again, and reaches out with grabbing fingers to cling to Leo’s
shirt. “Kiss me,” he orders, “and be good about it, or I’ll be so mad I’ll
leave and go to the North right now.”
“Don’t be dumb,” Leo teases, crawling over to straddle Izumi. “You played your
hand, my love. I know you don’t really want anyone but me, you softie.” He
kisses Izumi deeply, arms twining around his neck, all the confidence he’s
forgotten lately surging into him. When he breaks the kiss, he whispers,
suddenly very fierce, “And fuck women, I’m going to change the laws so I can
have the Captain of my Kingsguard chained to my fucking bed, you hear me?”
Izumi huffs out a hot breath as he blinks hard, struggling not to keep crying,
and failing. “I’m a fucking half-blood, who knows,” he manages with a wet
laugh, “maybe I’ll bear you a child yet.” His arms curl tightly around Leo,
dragging him firmly into his lap. “N-n-no one else wants me like you do, you’re
n-not allowed to marry someone else and leave me.”
“Mm, then I suppose I won’t,” Leo says cheerfully, now that the earth is back
under his feet, and the sky is back above him. “Ahh, you make gravity work for
me, you know. Everything goes all topsy-turvy when you’re not around. Oh! Did I
tell you--I have this new law I think you’ll like, lets me make bastards
legitimate. I thought I could abuse it to have a concubine or whatever so I can
continue the line of succession without giving you up.”
“Good, I like that.” Izumi buries his face into the side of Leo’s neck, pulling
his ponytail out of the way to kiss his neck—and runs across a few, fading
hickeys that make his blood suddenly boil. He growls, and bites down into Leo’s
shoulder abruptly. “You smell like other people,” he mutters. “I hate that.”
“Cut them off, for all I care,” Leo groans, blooming under Izumi’s touch like a
flower under the sun. He flips them suddenly, pinning Izumi down to the bed,
yanking frantically at his breeches. “No one else in my head,” he mutters, eyes
burning with desire. “Nothing but how much I love you. Off, off, I hate
clothes--”
Izumi lurches up with a ragged breath, yanking apart the front laces of Leo’s
shirt with perhaps too much enthusiasm. Even if they don’t have some stupid,
troublesome wizard’s bond, this feels like home more than anyone else ever
has—and gods, if he doesn’t need that right now.
“You’ll smell like me again soon, at this rate,” he says with a breathless
laugh, burying his face back into Leo’s neck, his hands dragging down to cup
the curve of Leo’s ass and squeeze. “Gods, Leo, I missed you.”
“I love you,” Leo breathes, yanking Izumi’s trousers off, sliding his hands up
those pale thighs, itching to bruise them a little. “You want me in you, love?
Tell me, I want your words, I want every part of you.”
Izumi’s breath hitches, his mouth gone dry for a moment as he flips that around
in his head. “I,” he attempts, then tries again. “That—when—when was the last
time? Gods, yes,” he groans, grabbing a handful of Leo’s hair to haul him up
and kiss him hard, tasting his mouth with a long suck on his tongue. “Maybe
you’ll actually get a baby out of me, huh?”
“Won’t know if I don’t try,” Leo breathes. He bites at Izumi’s lip, then shoves
down his own breeches to his knees, ignoring them once they’re out of the way,
yanking Izumi’s legs up over his head. “Ahh, you’re still so flexible. I bet
you’ve been doing it this way a lot, so I don’t have to be careful, right?” He
grins, and it comes out almost feral, eyes narrowed to dark feline slits.
Izumi flops backwards, even as he grabs for Leo as much as he can, squirming to
try and sling his legs up and over Leo’s shoulders immediately. “Haven’t been
doing it enough,” he grouses, swinging a hand back to reach underneath his
pillow for a rather unloved bottle of oil. “Take care of me, no one does it
right.”
Leo grabs the bottle, ripping out the cork with his teeth and spitting it away,
then making a face when it’s soaked through with oil. “Pleh! Take better care
of your things if you want me to take care of you. Now, open up.”
He drags a couple of slick fingers over Izumi’s hole, then sinks them in deep,
breath catching at how little resistance there is, at how eagerly Izumi seems
to take him. “That’s a good girl, let me in...you miss it, don’t you? Be good,
I’ll give it to you.”
Izumi sags down in relief, a long, ragged shudder making his hands drop to the
bed rather than claw at Leo’s skin. He clenches down around those fingers with
a groan, his legs shaking as his thighs try to fall open even more. “I’m being
good, I’m being good,” he whines, arching his breath with a hiccuping little
sigh as he presses down into Leo’s hand. “Ahh…fuck, that’s nice, don’t you dare
stop…”
Leo laughs breathlessly, dragging a hand up Izumi’s chest, rubbing and
squeezing at his nipple. “What...the hell makes you think I could stop?” he
asks, eyes dancing as he works his fingers in and out, curling and stroking,
then lowering his head to drag his tongue over the head, tasting Izumi for the
first time in what feels like a year.
A curse ends up muffled behind the arm Izumi throws over his own face, followed
shortly by a throaty groan that he can’t bite back, not when Leo’s mouth is
that hot and that slick against his cock, those fingers are inside of him,
making him twitch and shiver, and his nipples immediately harden underneath the
pinch of Leo’s other hand, throbbing in time with his pulse. “D..don’t,” he
rasps, thumping his other hand helplessly against the bed. “I…I don’t wanna
come until you’re in me, I…”
“But you taste so good,” Leo murmurs, eyes lidded as he pulls off, a gossamer
strand of saliva connecting his lip to Izumi’s cock. He shifts, and pulls his
fingers out. “Sorry. You’re probably not ready, but...I can’t wait anymore.”
He leans down, pressing a kiss to Izumi’s shoulder, then guides his cock in,
hissing when the head slides past that tight ring of muscle, teeth clenched
against the pleasure that feels like it’s going to overwhelm him from the first
second. “Holy gods,” he whispers, mindless with the pleasure.
Izumi arches with a rasping, hungry panting sound, no matter how it aches to
try and wriggle down and take Leo’s cock so quickly. Too long without on so
many levels—it makes him mindless, desperate when he grabs for Leo’s shirt
still half-hanging off of him, clinging to that as he tries to rut down, his
mouth slack, skin flushed hot. “Just fuck me,” he begs. Izumi drags a hand down
his own stomach, his skin twitching underneath his own touch, even when all he
does is splay his fingers through the dripping mess his own painfully hard cock
has left. “I n-need it, so do you, just—gods, Leo…”
“Like I could stop,” Leo grunts, and slams in deep, shuddering with pleasure,
riding Izumi hard. Izumi can take it, he wants it, and Leo wants nothing more
than to give it to him until he can’t take any more. He ruts in hard, seeking
his own climax, and just that one thought Izumi had put into his head is so
powerful-- “It’ll take this time,” he breathes, absolutely certain in that
moment. “It has to. I’m the king, I’m--I’ll put a baby in you if I want one
there, so just--you’re so good, I’ll--I love you, I love you--”
“Sh—“ Shut up about that, Izumi wants to tell him, but his own body thinks
otherwise. It’s embarrassing that it makes him so hard to think that just
because Leo is king, he can will something like that to happen, especially when
he’s bent in two, held down and fucked into the mattress.
Leo slides in deep, and Izumi’s voice breaks on a hiccuping sob. His cock
twitches hard, spilling with that hard pulse over his stomach, and Izumi just
groans, letting his head fall back, panting up towards he ceiling as he rocks
down into each of those thrusts still, riding through every aching, spasming
twitch.
Leo doesn’t feel himself come as much as he feels himself explode, shattering
into a million shards of himself, all of them full of nothing but sheer joy and
the pleasure of being with Izumi, in Izumi, surrounded by nothing but Izumi. He
sags down, groaning when it feels as if Izumi’s scooped out his soul, and drops
his head to Izumi’s shoulder. “Keeping it in you,” he murmurs, nuzzling into
his chin. “Until you start to show, I think.”
“Good,” Izumi groans, not even bothering to try and unfold his legs, just
letting them twitch and tremble still where they drape over Leo’s shoulders. He
feels too-slick inside, over-warm and sticky and uncomfortable, and he’s not
going to do a damned thing to change that yet. “Fuck. What if I just…did get
knocked up,” he dazedly says. “What then.”
“Then I’d have you declared a woman, legally,” Leo murmurs, as if he’s given
this a fair amount of thought in the past. “All the priests care about is
whether someone’s fertile or not. Then I’d marry you, obviously.”
“But I’m not a woman, just a fancy half-blood,” Izumi half-heartedly protests,
and when he shifts, he feels the cramp in his leg that he’s been trying to
prevent finally rear its ugly head. “Ow, ow, ow. Help.”
Leo grunts, and shifts, easing Izumi’s legs down, rubbing the big muscles
gently. “All my priests and attorneys care about is an heir. You can look like
a dancing monkey if you want, as long as I have a fat baby to show them, you’re
my wife.”
“I’ll be your wife, I’m just not a woman, there’s a difference,” Izumi sighs,
stretching out and letting Leo’s hands work their magic. “Oh, to hell with it,
honestly, who am I kidding. I’d be your woman. The first woman captain of the
Kingsguard, congratulations to me.”
“Maybe I’ll just hide a pillow under your shirt for a few months,” Leo
speculates, digging his thumbs gently into the muscles exactly the way he knows
Izumi likes it. “Then get a baby from somewhere. A redhead, obviously, this
color is hereditary. I wonder where I could get one of those...”
“But…nh…my hair color’s hereditary, too,” Izumi points out with a long shiver,
his toes curling and his eyes fluttering as the cramp starts to dissipate, and
it just starts feeling good again. “Which one is more hereditary, I
wonder…gods, that’s good, you’re so good.”
“I really don’t think I’m joking,” Leo says with a little hum, pulling out and
working full-time on massaging. “Roll over, I’m going to do your ass and back
now. Hey, Grandfather always said there was no stronger seed in the kingdom
than what’s in a king’s balls. He was weird, but what if he was right? That
would really be something.”
“I’d be ugly if I was fat and pregnant, but I’d do it for you,” Izumi bemoans,
slowly flopping over. He pulls his hair off of his back, twisting it up over
one shoulder. “That’s how much I love you. I’d probably lay eggs. Ugh, I’m
starting to gross myself out.”
Leo starts working on Izumi’s muscles, kneeling to straddle him. “But you’d do
it if it meant having silver-orange babies, right? And one of them could be the
next king. When I’m a hundred or so and feel like retiring, hahaha! Wow, you’re
really tense, huh?”
Izumi slaps a hand against the bed, unable to form words for a moment except
for a sort of wet, gurgling noise. “Your fault,” he eventually bemoans. “I’m so
stressed all of the time. At least you’re finally taking responsibility.”
“Is it really responsibility if I’m not planning on changing anything?” Leo
asks cheerfully, working his hands up to Izumi’s neck.
Izumi grunts half-heartedly at that. “Yes. Maybe. Whatever. Gods, if it weren’t
bizarre, I’d just marry your damned sister. But it is, not to mention gross,
and I’m not going to do that.”
“Mm, I know. I’d rather not condemn her to being a political chip for the rest
of her life, but...well. If it’s going to happen, and I don’t see how it isn’t,
at least she likes you. And I think she likes Tsukasa too, though I’m going to
need to interview him more thoroughly now that I’m totally, absolutely the
king.”
“Just let me bully him a bit more, that’ll whip him into shape to be a proper
husband,” Izumi mutters, shutting his eyes. “You know…I don’t mind being made
an example of, in so many words. No one can boo you off the throne for having a
male lover. I’m the one that’ll be hassled for it, and I just don’t care at
this point.”
“They can, once I name an heir,” Leo says drowsily, petting Izumi’s hair. “But
they’d need you on their side. Don’t betray me, yeah?”
“Don’t be stupid.” Izumi reaches back, tugging Leo down next to him. “Aren’t I
going to be the captain of your Kingsguard?” he sighs. “No one will ever be
able to make me turn from you.”
“That’s what I mean, silly.” Leo burrows into Izumi’s side, very content. “Mm.
That’s why you have to be my Captain. Oh, and introduce me to your daughters.
You want them to be princesses? I’ll adopt them legally if you do, but you
might want them to...I mean, I remember that conversation we had, about not
wanting the responsibility of the crown.”
“I sent them North, when everyone thought the entire capital was going to go up
in smoke.” Izumi heaves a sigh, stroking a hand slowly down Leo’s back. “I
don’t think there’s anything I can do to pry them away from Mika,” he wryly
admits. “Rei and Shu were begging me to make them one.”
Leo rubs his nose on Izumi’s shoulder, blinking sleepily. “You can keep being
in love with them, you know. I’ll be busy, you’ll be away a lot. As long as you
know you’re mine, it’s fine.”
“I don’t think it’s something I really have a choice about,” Izumi admits,
pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “But I can’t stop being yours, either.
That’s a given.”
“Don’t say it like that,” Leo grumbles, but not unhappily. “You have a choice.
The choice to be in love with three hot guys who love you very much, one of
whom is a wizard, one of whom is a Lord and commands an entire army, and one of
whom is the literal king. You’ve got it rough, wow.”
“Yeah, I do,” Izumi grouses, pulling on Leo’s hair gently. “Because I love
those two and you in very separate, different ways, and just sort of wish we
could all coexist in a pile. But the world doesn’t work like that,
unfortunately.”
“Aren’t we coexisting in a pile?” Leo asks, confused. “I thought that’s what
this was.”
“No, I mean an actual, physical pile. If I had my way, we’d run off to the
North and raise my daughters together and…” Izumi trails off, rolling his eyes.
“It’s a pipe dream. But it certainly sounds nice.”
“Stop having dreams that conflict with each other, that would be nice,” Leo
says, poking Izumi’s cheek. “You can’t want me to be king and also want me to
run away with you and expect me to satisfy both somehow. And you know, my
Captain of the Kingsguard can’t go running off all the time, either. You have
to be by my side, my first bodyguard. If you don’t want the job, let me know
before you fight Kuro, you know? I’ll still love you, but you’ll....you’ll be
free, to just be a lord.”
“I’m just running my mouth, I’ve already made my decision,” Izumi mutters,
swatting Leo’s hand away. “Do you really think I’d leave anyone else to the job
of taking care of you? No one else is capable and you’d shrug them off in an
instant. At least you like being around me, it makes it a bit easier to keep
track of you.”
“Damn, I didn’t think this through. Yeah, I should fire you and hire a
bodyguard that’s a lot easier to shake off.”
“Too late. I’m here and I know everything about you. You’re fucked, basically.”
“Uwwaaaahhh, I take it back, you’re still a page!”
“Nope, you did this to yourself,” Izumi grunts, rolling over to lay on top of
him and crush Leo to the bed. “You want me to stay? This is what you get.”
Leo squeaks, then thrashes wildly for a moment, before finally lying still.
“Torture,” he huffs, admitting defeat. “My life is over. It’s hell from here on
out, total hell.”
“Just wait until I’m pregnant,” Izumi dryly says. “Then it’s going to be even
worse. And you wanted this, every last bit of it.”
“Every last bit,” Leo agrees, beaming up at Izumi from where he’s being
crushed. “Will you still fight my enemies when you’re...what did you call it?
Gravid?”
“Yes,” Izumi deadpans. “And then I’ll lay my eggs and sit on them day in and
day out until they hatch our little baby snakes, which may or may not have red
hair. Then they’ll…I don’t know, be like me as a child, cranky over hot weather
and very beautiful.”
Leo reaches around to grab Izumi’s ass, squeezing it like a stress ball. “Well,
then. I’m set. Who could ask for more than that?”
***** Epilogue *****
Chapter by daphnerunning
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The Academy is like nothing Natsume has ever seen, but…that doesn’t say much,
he supposes.
For weeks, even his mind has been quiet. A lack of visions is almost
unsettling, but at the same time, it’s a relief. The idea that he’d have yet
another vision of someone dying, or even just being hurt—it keeps him up at
night, making him wake in cold sweats, remembering the life simply draining
from Tsumugi by Eichi’s hand, the way he wiped blood from his fingers, the
unconcerned expression on his face—
Natsume shivers, and shoves the thought from his mind as he makes his way
through the Academy’s halls.
Rei had graciously handed the kingdom over to Leo, with a ceremony that was
less elaborate, and more an obvious attempt to leave as quickly as possible.
Even after the past couple of weeks, Natsume finds it uncomfortable to talk to
him, or to Shu, who Natsume is fairly convinced knew of everything beforehand
as well, and just chose not to utter a word. There seem to be few others that
he can trust now that Tsumugi is dead, and the one person he’d trust most of
all has been as withdrawn as he has been, making it difficult to reconnect to a
world that he’s not entirely sure he wants to be in.
When knocking on the doors of that person’s usual haunts today yields no
results, including a flounce through the garden that makes him sneeze, Natsume
is sullen and angry.
As if he’s a cat following a dangling string, however, he makes his way
directly to Wataru’s room, glowering at the door for a moment before he
smoothes his skirts and knocks.
The door opens slowly at the knock, as if by magic. A glittering sparkle trails
into the air, and Wataru looks over, not moving from his seat by the window. He
gazes out, watching a few of his birds circling. “Leave me for just a little
while longer,” he says softly. “I don’t have it in me to be entertaining today,
little kitten. Terribly sorry.”
“Well, I don’t care about that,” Natsume huffs, stalking inside and shutting
the door firmly behind himself. “The entertaining part, I mean. I just want
some company that isn’t wizards acting like they’ve never seen a noblewoman
before. Ugh. Your hair looks like a mess,” he mutters, heels clicking against
the tiled floor as he crosses the room.
“I haven’t had the energy to care.” Wataru brushes a long strand of hair behind
his shoulder, giving Natsume a faded, very human smile. “Gone back to your
lovely dresses, I see. You look beautiful.”
“What else would I go back to? I’ve always dressed like this,” Natsume mutters,
dragging a stool over and pulling all of Wataru’s hair back over his shoulders
to try and make something of the mess it’s become. “You’re acting like you’re
still all locked up in a cage or something.”
“Do the nightingale’s songs not please you? You delight only in the sounds of
the lark?” Wataru’s fingers turn over and over something in his hand--a gold
necklace, wrought in elegant silver. “The lark has gone to sleep. Perhaps he
will awaken in time, but you should not wait upon that chance.”
“If I’m a cat and you’re a bird, then a bird’s a bird and I’ll still delight in
pulling out your feathers,” Natsume sniffs in return, fingercombing out some of
the worst tangles in Wataru’s hair and turning the silky mass of it over in his
grasp, marveling at the color of it. “Even if you’re not being as noisy and
fluttery as ever.”
“You seem quite recovered yourself, kitten,” Wataru says, not flinching when
Natsume’s hands are anything but gentle. “Teach me your secrets, I’ve lost the
art of pretending not to feel loss.”
“…I don’t want anyone to see me like this.”
Natsume shrugs, glancing down, watching where he’s tangled Wataru’s hair around
his fingers instead. “Every time I act upset, or…or think about it for too
long, Lord Rei or Lord Shu just try to make me feel better, and that makes me
feel worse. I…I don’t know how I’m supposed to trust them again. They don’t
really get it. You do, so…”
Wataru reaches behind, closing his hand around Natsume’s. “I’m sorry for your
loss,” he says, turning to touch Natsume’s cheek. “And I’m glad that you didn’t
have to pretend that the celebrations of his death were delighted memories of
his life, for that’s at least one pain I can spare you.”
Natsume bites his lip as it wobbles, and he butts his head firmly into Wataru’s
hand, huffing out a hot breath. “I know no one’s said anything…anything nice to
you about Eichi dying,” he whispers. “So I will. I am sorry that you’re without
him now. I…I don’t think it’s fair that you have to be so sad.”
“Little fool,” Wataru says softly, tears stinging his eyes. “You hated him more
than anyone. Why...why would you say that to me?” He blinks, drawing Natsume
into his lap, staring at him as if he’s a puzzle that can’t possibly be
deciphered. “Is it possible...that you care about me that much?”
“J…just because I h-hated him doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to be upset,”
Natsume hiccups, blinking hard to try and not tear up, though he fails
immediately. He sniffs frantically, lifting a hand to wipe at his eyes, and he
glowers up at Wataru, lips pursed as he tries not to start sobbing outright.
“But—but you didn’t hurt me, or lie to me, or anything like that. I d-don’t
know how to make you feel better, but I wish I c-could…”
Wataru proffers the soft end of his sleeve, dabbing at Natsume’s cheeks. “You
make me feel better by being close to me, kitten,” he whispers, tucking
Natsume’s head under his chin. “You’re...one of the only people in this entire
world who loves me when I’m not showing off.”
Natsume sniffles, burying his wet face into Wataru’s neck as he reburies his
hands into Wataru’s hair. “I l-like it when you show off,” he whispers. “But
it’s…it’s just as good w-when you act normal, a-and human. I don’t care which
one you want to do, both are good.”
“No one has ever...” Wataru cuts himself off with a laugh. “I keep saying that,
don’t I? Ah, well. Are you an Academy cat, now? It will do you some good to
finally have the learning you’ve been denied.”
Natsume growls at that. “Don’t care about that,” he mutters, burrowing himself
more thoroughly into Wataru’s lap, hiking up his skirts to make it easier.
“You’re a better teacher than any of the wizards here, I know it. Also, weapons
and stuff aren’t allowed in here. I can’t carry my dagger collection around,
really rude.”
“You could...” Wataru starts to talk, then cuts himself off, looking away. “You
should stay and learn, I mean. Of course. You’ll be safe here.”
“No, you were going to say something else,” Natsume presses, peering up at him
with wide eyes. “I could what?”
Wataru curls a strand of Natsume’s hair around a finger. “I chafe at walls,” he
admits, with a helpless shrug. “Perhaps I was always meant to be a nomad. I’ll
wander now, from city to city, showing off my talents, until I find a place
where no one will ever look away. And...I would not hate your company.”
“Yes.” Natsume perks up eagerly at that. “Yes, I—yes. Please, let me come with
you! But, you’re being stupid,” he adds, sitting back with a huff. “You should
just travel because you want to travel, I already think you’re the best, why
would I ever look away?”
A ripple goes through Wataru, and his magical aura seems to brighten, for the
first time in quite a while. “And I’ll teach you everything I know as we
travel,” he offers, trying to contain his delight and failing utterly.
“Obviously!” Natsume beams, throwing his arms around Wataru’s neck. “That’s
better, that’s so much better than staying here—oh, but I’m traveling like
this, as a woman, that’s how it is.”
“As you like, of course. I cannot swear that everywhere we stay will be worthy
of someone of your standing, but...” Wataru’s eyes twinkle, the way they used
to. “I can promise that it will be amazing.”

Chapter End Notes
     Thanks for sticking with us for this wild ride, everyone! Hope you
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