Chapter Text
Hakuryuu cannot recall the first time he met Kouen. That is, Ren Kouen his cousin and vassal to his brothers, not Ren Kouen his supposed older brother and Kou’s second first prince. An overwhelming majority of his childhood memories have been rendered hazy by smoke and embers. The ones eluding that fate ended up splintering into obscurity the older he got. Since his perspective proved itself to be untrustworthy time and time again, the loss has never felt as monumental as he knows it is.
After all, the only drive of his memories is to rule him. If he can barely remember them then they have no power. The only ones who get precedence over him are those he allows.
Yet this particular blank space bothers him immensely.
It is not that Hakuryuu cares about remembering when they first met, or even that he necessarily wants to, but he was staggered speechless to learn Kouen did recall it, and vividly at that. In more detail than Hakuryuu expected from the person he believed his cousin to be, Kouen recounted their minutes long encounter. How his prince was very small, weighed down by the elaborate robes only a son of the emperor was suited to wear, clutching his sister’s equally exquisite robes and only ever peeking out from behind her. How every time Kouen spoke he retreated and no amount of coaxing from his sister could get him to come out and give a greeting.
Kouen told him how disquieting it was to think he had upset his prince, whom he was meant to serve and protect, and how he sought to correct the offense with an apology right away. This only served to confuse and startle his unassuming prince further. All this, Kouen revealed with the smallest of fond smiles. His eyes distanced as though he could see it all replaying before him.
Ever since Kouen revealed this to him months ago during one of his first trips to the island, Hakuryuu has attempted to recall his version of this event, to no avail. As little as envision it even. Play it out in his mind and recognize them, because inexplicably—shamefully—when Kouen told him his emotions surged and his instinct screamed liar. Hakuryuu knows better—wants to know better. There’s nothing to be gained from such a trivial lie, yet his body and mind insist in tandem: do not trust Kouen do not trust Kouen. On repeat and echoing and demanding.
They will not be silenced.
No matter how many times Hakuryuu calls into the bleak hollow of his memories nothing worthwhile ever responds.
Do not trust him, his body says. We know better than you, his mind says.
But Hakuryuu has lived most of his life deferring to instinct, in perpetual survival mode; all it brought him was hardship and grief. So he ignores both and carries on, insisting he knows best.
He wants to trust Kouen, so badly that he disregards the fact that he does not. Together, the two of them pretend the feeling is not mutual. After all, Kouen has the lesser trust here. How could he not? His actions spell trust and his words are weaved with love, but he cannot trust Hakuryuu after everything that has been done. Nor should he.
Hakuryuu never seeks confirmation. He knows it in his heart, both of them do.
Hakuryuu asks Kouen what he would like to do, because whenever Hakuryuu visits they end up spending most of their time together.
Kouen replies that a walk would be nice. So they go for a walk without acknowledging the fact Hakuryuu could kill him during it. He could come back and claim it was accidental; Kouen is frailer now and he tripped. Even an obvious lie they wouldn’t be able to argue with. He’d get away with it and the only consequence would be a heart weighed down by even more guilt.
Hakuryuu can’t kill Kouen. Despite his body’s doubt and his mind’s distrust, they can’t follow through. But Kouen’s brothers don’t know that, and neither do the soldiers stationed here who only bow before him because it’s Kouen’s will. They should never be too sure he can’t, either.
On their way out they pass through a room where Koumei, Kouha, and several soldiers are going over supplies. They ask where they are headed, equal parts curiosity and caution. Kouen’s answer does not elaborate beyond, “a walk.” Not to withhold information, but because their walks lead them where they lead them and aren’t along a planned route, although they often trail the same places.
No one in the room likes the answer. The soldiers exchange glances. Either suspicious of Hakuryuu’s intentions or assuming they are will be getting up to acts they shouldn’t be engaging in for… more reasons than Hakuryuu can name, honestly. Kouha’s face contorts with undisguised distaste. All that keeps his tongue still is Koumei, whose expression never wavers, discreetly grabbing his elbow.
Sometimes Hakuryuu wonders if Koumei is the only person who trusts Kouen implicitly. Or perhaps it’s that Koumei is the only one Kouen can trust in all things.
With nothing an array of exchanged looks but not a word of protest, they continue on their way. Down the wooden path that forces them close. Then to the grass where they remain close for the sake of it. Their knuckles brush. Their fingers brush, almost interlocking and Hakuryuu resists. Smooth wood on soft skin, and he wonders if Kouen can tell.
When they reach the sand, and specifically where it’s looser, Hakuryuu’s arm goes around Kouen’s to help him walk. Pressed to him, he can feel the warmth of Kouen’s upper arm through the thin robe. Maybe he should bring him a new one, though Kouen seems to like this one fine and in fact enjoys how light it is.
These walks are Koumei’s fault in the first place. It was his suggestion that was not a suggestion at all. Because his big brother leads a rather sedentary lifestyle these days and will be less inclined to allow distractions if His Majesty is keeping him company. Hakuryuu did not mean for it to become habit, but the next morning they were up early together with nothing to do and in the evening it seemed to be an expectation neither corrected.
It’s a pleasant thing now. Something they can both look forward to, though neither of them has admitted it in words. The fresh air and the view, and the privacy. All of it they breathe in like it’s something they’ve never had or enjoyed.
The sun is so high it might already be beginning its descent; Hakuryuu cannot tell. Its rays give the sand a gentle glow while the ocean sparkles so bright it blinds. There is also a pleasant illumination given to Kouen’s face, even though it also highlights how much more wan he’s grown since Hakuryuu’s last visit. He makes a mental note to leave a few recipes to keep him healthier and arrange to have the ingredients delivered as much as needed.
As they make their way across the long stretch of beach the conversation stays consciously light, mostly restricted to how things have been on the island since Hakuryuu’s was last here, how Kouen and his brothers are faring and if they are still adjusting, if there is anything Hakuryuu can do to make their stay more comfortable. He wants there to be something he can do for them but there never is. Well, there isn’t aside from the one obvious thing he cannot achieve no matter what he tries or how he begs.
They do not talk about Kou or the status of Hakuryuu’s rule. They do not talk about the plethora of vile things Hakuryuu has done that should make his stomach churn but don’t. On this island the rest of the world might as well not exist. Kouen is an exile. And Hakuryuu isn’t anyone, either, no matter no many times Kouen calls him “Your Majesty.”
They do not talk about Sinbad.
“Your Majesty,” Kouen starts with the weight that precedes a request he suspects could be overstepping. Admonishment sits at the tip of Hakuryuu’s tongue but he holds it back. “Would you mind if we took a quick break?”
Hakuryuu looks out at the reddening sky, his brow furrowing. They’ve been walking for barely an hour. How Kouen’s health declined so much in not even a year is beyond him. The bags under his eyes seem deeper and darker than before and the prosthetic limbs Hakuryuu made him are less than polished. His robe is worn and loose, and Hakuryuu thinks he’s lost more weight.
Realizing he has yet to respond, Hakuryuu says, “Of course.”
Looking around, he sees this is an area Kouen often requests they break. So perhaps it is that, more than that he is actually tired. Kouen likes prolonging their time together. Hakuryuu is guilty of the same.
Nearby is a heavy, mossy log with just enough shade. Depending on the time of day, it can give a pretty view of the skyline. Currently the sky is bleeding into pinkish purple where it meets the sea. The sun is a huge, molten red-orange blot that smears the sky further with orange and reflects in a shimmer on the ocean below. In the darkest bits of the sky, if he stares hard enough, he can see the small beginnings of visible stars.
Feeling eyes on him, his neck and shoulders tense. With a deep breath he banishes feeling, forces himself to relax. When he tilts his head to get a look at Kouen, he finds his expression to be one of mild curiosity and consideration.
Seeing that he’s being waited on, Kouen closes his eyes, visibly crafting the words he means to say. Careful, the way he always is with Hakuryuu, as though every letter and syllable must be handpicked and examined closely to avoid upsetting him. Finally, Kouen takes a short, decisive breath. “Your Majesty is always watching the sky,” he states, a simple observation.
Hakuryuu blinks. Vision black, then meeting blurring hues of red and blue, stars standing out more than they had been. He gives Kouen his attention for just a moment. Then he swivels his gaze back to the sky. Knowing full well that it’s true, he wonders, “Am I?”
“Yes,” Kouen answers with a slight lilt, as though Hakuryuu’s blithe response was not one he was anticipating. A tiresome trend, but one Hakuryuu is guiltier of.
Kouen looks out at the sky as well, searching for but unable to find whatever has caught Hakuryuu’s interest. Wondering, perhaps, if it’s merely the sky’s beauty that has him enchanted, or if it’s something more. Maybe this is a hobby Hakuryuu has always had; Kouen wouldn’t know after all. They know so little about each other. Practically nothing. They are strangers more than they are brothers, and lovers more than they are strangers.
Seated on the log, their thighs are pressed together and Hakuryuu’s hand sits too high. His fingers rest between Kouen’s legs in a way that can only be described as improper no matter how it’s looked at. Worse yet, his fingers clutch the thin fabric of his robe, and inch it higher, revealing a patch of the tan skin underneath.
Without fully thinking the consequences through, Hakuryuu says, “Judar,” and the name rings through the entirety of his body. His hair tingles and his skin tightens as though it’s trying to break his bones. That name hangs heavy in the air before them. A curse, an ill omen, one Hakuryuu does not feel particularly inclined to banish.
Regardless of Hakuryuu’s thoughts or wishes, his name dissipates anyway. A stray breeze catches it, and carries it far, far out to sea, where Hakuryuu cannot do anything—not see it nor hear it nor help it. Long gone, leaving he and Kouen to themselves and it’s a lonely thing.
Out of nowhere there’s a pit in his stomach, enormous and all consuming. When Hakuryuu attempts to swallow it away it only deepens, dropping impossibly low. Through his feet, through the log and into ground beneath him, carving into him like he’s melting wax.
“Do you know what happened to him?” Hakuryuu asks. How casual his voice sounds makes him feel so light it’s no different from feeling empty.
“No,” Kouen says, and neglects to add that he’s heard rumors. Everyone has. Everyone knows their oracle and priest is dead. That much Hakuryuu has not bothered trying to hide.
Hakuryuu is not certain if there’s a tactful way to put it. Not that he’s made an effort to craft one. The details of Judar’s demise belong to no one but him. Just like the rest of their time together, it’s private and not for the eyes of others.
“I didn’t see him die. Part of me wants to believe he’s out there somewhere, but… I know better.” For such a cruel death it would be kind if he went quickly, without prolonged suffering. How long can Judar’s borg last? Would Judar make it last as long as possible?
Hakuryuu wonders if he had any regrets, in the end. If right up until the last breath his conviction in Hakuryuu remained. Whether he did or not, something tells Hakuryuu he has not managed to live up to the things Judar saw in him.
Realizing he’s gone silent and Kouen has yet to respond, he says, “I’m going to hold a funeral soon. I should have a long time ago, but…” He doesn’t pick the sentence back up, and shrugs instead.
“You must miss him.”
“I—” Hakuryuu’s voice chokes and there’s buzzing in his head. His eyes are dry when he doesn’t expect them to be. For some reason he has the instinct to argue. About what, he’s not sure. That Kouen doesn’t know that? He clearly does. That he doesn’t miss Judar? He does miss him, greatly and more than he knows how to express.
After a pause he admits it. “I do miss him,” soft and growing softer like he doesn’t want it to be heard.
Kouen’s hand finds his, pushes between Hakuryuu’s fingers to hold him. His hand is rough with calluses and his palm is so warm it makes Hakuryuu shiver. Kouen turns to look towards him but avoids looking directly at him too long. “It will subside over time. Although, perhaps not completely.”
“What will?”
“The grief.”
Hakuryuu already doesn’t care for any of the directions this conversation might head. His mouth blunders on anyway, because it doesn’t care about his best interests. “Is that how it was for you?”
He doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t want Kouen to say, but an answer is already forming heedless of Hakuryuu’s unspoken desires.
“It is. I will never be without it, but it’s… far more tolerable now, than it was at the start.”
“It was a long time ago.”
Kouen gives Hakuryuu an appraising sort of look, like the bits and pieces that have made a jigsaw Hakuryuu until now have shifted without notice, in places that fit but make the picture jumbled. He has to realign them into a Hakuryuu that makes sense with the one he knows.
“It does not always feel that way,” Kouen says. “It’s not the same for you?” From the way he says that, it’s apparent that Hakuryuu not sharing in that feeling doesn’t quite compute for him.
Hakuryuu swallows. It is that way for him and it is not. But how Hakuryuu views that event, the things he remembers and doesn’t remember are not for Kouen to know. Sometimes he wants to forget his brothers and other times he wishes he could remember them more than he does. A couple times he seethed with jealousy, because it seems he’s the one to understand and know them the least.
“I… I don’t know. It’s not the same thing.”
Kouen looks at him a moment, face totally expressionless. “You are right.” He bows his head. “I apologize.”
“I—” Hakuryuu holds his tongue between his teeth. “You don’t need to apologize.” He hates when Kouen apologizes to him, because half the time he has no idea what the apology is for and never wants to ask.
Kouen lifts his head and looks at Hakuryuu sideways. “While they may be different experiences, my grief is not unlike your own now.”
“Is it?”
“I imagine so. The grief of losing a lover is a recognizable thing.” He pauses, thinking better of what he’s about to say then saying it anyway. “You wear it plainly.”
“Oh.” Hakuryuu has not taken pains to hide it or display the grief that’s embedded itself in his bones, but no one has commented on it before. “I didn’t realize.”
“Your Majesty tends to be forthright with emotion, and it is not the sort of thing that’s easily hidden.”
“I can see it on you, too.”
Kouen glances at him, interest in his features.
“Not always,” Hakuryuu adds. “I can tell you miss him, and want him still. Usually when we’re in bed,” he says with a sly look that falls away too fast. “Other times, too, but it’s most apparent then.” He trails off.
Kouen waits for him.
He takes a hesitant breath. “That’s why you took his sword, isn’t it. To have something tangible to remember him by.”
Hakuryuu doesn’t have anything like that to remember Judar. Belial, perhaps? But Belial isn’t with him. Even if he were, Hakuryuu thinks that might be too macabre and representative of the wrong things—or maybe Belial represents exactly what it should of their relationship. Those aspects aren’t the ones he wants to cherish.
He could search through Judar’s room at the palace for something, but the few times Hakuryuu has been in there were overwhelming. The room was unrecognizably Judar with its gaudy baubles and finery that were Judar’s expectation but not his taste. He lacked the heart to dig through the props looking for something real.
When Kouen fails to respond after a generous amount o time, Hakuryuu moves their hands to his lap instead and leans his head on Kouen’s shoulder. Kouen stole his brother’s sword; Hakuryuu came to terms with that long ago. It might stir up some indignation now and then, but not enough for Hakuryuu to make a fuss about it.
Kouen still doesn’t speak. He’s very still but Hakuryuu can feel him breathing.
Hakuryuu lifts his head up. Chin on Kouen’s shoulder and he squeezes Kouen’s hand. “What is it? I’m not angry.”
Kouen breathes out. “I did not take it after his death.”
“What?” He nearly insists that Kouen did take it but his tongue and mouth won’t move.
Kouen takes a breath that’s a little less steady. “The sword.” He stops abruptly. His mouth hangs open for a few beats before he goes on. “He. His Highness Prince Hakuyuu gifted me his prized sword prior to my expedition to conquer Astaroth, Your Majesty.”
Hakuryuu furrows his brow. He rests his cheek on Kouen’s shoulder, looking behind them. “Why?”
He doesn’t want to know.
He wants to know more than anything.
Kouen squeezes his hand first now, and Hakuryuu squeezes back with just as much strength.
“We did not know how long I would be gone. As much as he might have liked to, His Highness could not come,” Kouen trails off there, somewhat wistful. He collects his thoughts. “It was His Highness’s way of expressing his feelings and commitment, and I am forever grateful to him for it.”
Hakuryuu keeps quiet.
“I am sorry I didn’t tell you. It’s very… personal, and dear to me.”
Not knowing how to digest this information or how to respond to it, Hakuryuu says, “It’s okay.” He pushes his face to Kouen’s shoulder and wills it to be true.
It is okay.
His brother is long dead and Hakuryuu is the one left here. He is not a replacement even though he is.
“Will you look at me?”
Hakuryuu lifts his head and lolls it in front of Kouen, but does not actually look at him, letting his hair fall into his face. “What?”
Kouen moves his head forward to gently headbutt him, keeping their foreheads together. Subtly, he looks him over. For signs of displeasure, for anger, for any emotional response that will tell him how he might proceed.
Without bite Hakuryuu repeats himself. “What?”
“Nothing.” Kouen pushes Hakuryuu back and then rises to kiss his forehead. “You are very strong.”
Hakuryuu grumbles under his breath while his cheeks flush. He drops his head to tuck it under Kouen’s chin and leans into him. He wraps his other arm around him to get close as he can. Hakuryuu does not feel very strong. If he has any strength, what has it ever done for him?
Kouen works his hand free and wraps it around Hakuryuu instead. He sighs.
Hakuryuu nudges his nose against Kouen’s throat.
“It’s okay,” he breathes against Kouen’s skin. His lips move against him, forming the words over and over until they sink into Kouen and become one with him. Then he grits his teeth and searches his mind for the right thing.
Kouen leans over to kiss the side of his head. His lips brush the shell of Hakuryuu’s ear and he says, “You will be.”