okay i felt guilty for writing another fic when i've already got too much to handle so here you go~
a little bit of plot but i promise we will get more iwaoi next chapter
This time Kageyama can hardly focus on the task at hand, and it's all Hinata's fault.
They're leaving the palace together for the first time, Kageyama and Iwaizumi and Oikawa. It hadn't taken more than a few words to Kunimi from the captain before the dark-haired guard had stood down obediently, albeit with a rebellious, angry gleam in those usually-blank eyes which revealed his fury at being left out of the loop.
Much as Kageyama is loath to admit it, leaving the guard behind doesn't sit well with him. Especially since they've been together - unwittingly - reluctantly - since both of them had come of age, and they've really been through a lot – attempted assassinations, extravagant parties, first trysts and the like. But it's not like they really have a choice; Iwaizumi hasn't spoken to the Royal Guard yet, isn't ready to rally their support, not when things are still so unstable and the peasant army hasn't yet been fully assembled. And, admittedly, trust isn't something any of them are willing to play with, not when it comes to the high-stakes game they're playing.
It's a high-stakes game to them, at least, and their lives are on the line.
But, back to the subject at hand. Even while Kageyama had been meeting Oikawa and Iwaizumi at the door, even while they had been ushered through the palace gates, even while they had been walking silently through the royal garden and out into the subdued clamour of the main street, Kageyama's thoughts had been filled with nothing but the miserable little orange-haired slave. Not miserable in that sense, Kageyama thinks sulkily; he had been perfectly and exasperatingly upbeat, even though the large, slightly-reddened bandage on his forehead had to hurt like a bitch. He had gone on and on about the parade, his expressive face fluid and alight with pleasure, his hands - with their long fucking fingers and those short, clean-cut nails, driving Kageyama absolutely fucking crazy - gesturing madly in the air, and Kageyama had suddenly felt his heart twist and turn upside down.
He had, all of a sudden, remembered the night in the orchard, when he had seen Hinata's swollen eyes, the dull resentful clench of his fists as he stared blankly at the ground, remembered the way he'd looked up at Kageyama and had startled him with the still strong, burning flame in his wide orange eyes. Of course he knew Hinata was strong; anyone who had gone through his brother and could still laugh as if he had not a care in the world had to be strong. But it wasn't until he saw Hinata laughing and smiling at the thought of the parade which had almost killed him, at the thought of the man who had forcefully seized his control and his virginity, that Kageyama realised how strong.
It isn't in the physical sense, no - Hinata's body, though obviously no pushover, has nothing like Oikawa's sinuous, latent power, or the thick corded muscles of Iwaizumi, or even the thin sleek lines of tension of Kageyama's own body. His body is tiny, fragile, and though possessed of its own, explosive energy, is nothing to hold a candle to. And yet Kageyama finds him terribly, painfully strong, stronger than anyone he has ever encountered before. Perhaps it is because the people in the palace - himself included - had always seemed, by comparison, insufferably weak, bowing down to their superiors without protest or opposition.
In contrast, Hinata, already beaten and broken and bruised, somehow always manages to stand up again and keep fighting on. Kageyama hadn't been able to tell if the wicked knife twisting its way into his heart had been from admiration, jealousy, or another kind of emotion altogether. Because surely that is all it is, isn't it? Simple admiration of the slave for his tenacity and remarkable resilience, and a creeping, insidious envy that Kageyama himself hasn't, so far, been able to muster up such courage.
No, there's nothing else he's feeling for the feisty little slave, because he wouldn't be able to accept it, because he wouldn't be able to fathom feeling anything like affection for the tiny, excitable slave who always seems to make his blood boil.
A reflexive shudder overtakes his body as he remembers the pale pink nubs of Hinata's nipples peaking almost… shyly against the wet fabric of his robe, remembers the slender, thin lines of his hips, remembers how pale the skin of his abdomen had been. How well he remembers having, for one dangerous, daunting, thrilling second, imagined running his lips along the delicate line of Hinata's jaw, imagined what it would feel like if he just reached out and gripped a hold of that orange hair - if it would be as soft as it seemed - imagined what it would feel like to crush his lips to the other's and bite down hard, mark what was his and rightfully, only his –
A loud bang from the corridor outside had startled him rudely from the hazy dream into which he had been sinking, and he had sprung to his feet, horrified at the direction his thoughts had been taking. Surely not - but really - definitely not. One last glance at the pale white arch of Hinata's neck peeking elegantly out of the collar of his robe had been all it took to send Kageyama marching straight out of the infirmary, straight out of his own personal hell, without even stopping to give Sugawara a goodbye.
Because he had frightened himself. He had felt that strange, powerful rush of emotion bubbling up in his chest as he had looked at Hinata, emotions he could barely control, and his own raw lust and desire had sent him into automatic recoil. Of course he had felt such base emotions before - he was a man, after all, and a prince. He had no lack of eager maidens after his hand, some not-so-subtle, some not-so-innocent, and he had even indulged the temporary stirring of insanity that had plagued him in his teenage years. But the respite he had found beneath the maiden's receptive thighs had not been something memorable or deserving of remembrance - it had simply been just that. An act to satiate his temporary desires, something he indulged in but found no tangible pleasure in. It wasted time he could have been spending practising his sword-fighting skills, or sparring with Kunimi, or even sleeping.
So that was true desire. Kageyama's body trembles again, involuntarily, and he remembers the surge of animalistic, possessive, uncontrollable passion which had threatened to consume him at the sight of Hinata in all his wet, partially-unclothed glory.
Another memory of that moment comes to mind, unsought-for, unwanted, and Kageyama's jaw tightens as he sees again those dark, painful bruises scattered erratically, vulgarly across the unblemished skin that stretched tight over Hinata's stomach. They looked suspiciously like finger-marks - of course they were finger-marks, what else could they be - and Kageyama had no doubt in his mind as to who had left them there.
Now, he darts a furious look at Oikawa's slim back, the object of his anger, leisurely and obliviously walking in front of him, and wonders just why, exactly, seeing the marks on Hinata's skin had incensed him so. It's not like he's unfamiliar with Oikawa's ignorant cruelty and his callous disregard for the emotions of others - it's a known fact that the crown prince is a selfish bastard, and an arrogant one at that. It irks him more than ever, now, to wonder why he'd been so surprised, and curiously enraged, at the sight of those bruises.
(He fervently denies that it had had anything to do with the thoughts that had flashed through his head, mine, mine, mine - )
Kageyama forces his attention back to the matter at hand. Iwaizumi and Oikawa are bickering again, in hushed tones so as not to draw attention to themselves, and they're fast leaving Kageyama behind.
It's different, today; the fog is less dense, hardly there at all, and the sun is bright. Kageyama draws his cloak closer around him, and sticks close to Iwaizumi's side. Beside them, on the streets and hidden in the dark shadows of the alleyways, suspicious eyes peer out at them, some of them weary, some of them disinterested, some of them downright hostile. He's not really surprised, though. If their height weren't already enough of a giveaway, the way Oikawa unconsciously carries himself - tall, erect, kingly even - is sufficient to make them stand out among the rest of the dirty, unwashed rabble that hunch over at their sides.
He fidgets slightly, wishing fervently that they'd reach their destination quicker, wishing desperately that the shop-house they're headed for is just around the corner, although judging from his previous, clandestine visit there, it's not likely that his wish will come true any time soon. The restless tension in the atmosphere is making him tense as well, and it's not helping that Iwaizumi's posture indicates clearly that his hand is on the hidden sheath sewn into the inside of his cloak.
Suddenly, he almost crashes smack into Oikawa's back as they stop abruptly. As he opens his mouth to growl out a confused complaint, Oikawa lopes casually over to a nearby fruit stall, picking up a banana and beginning to peel it. The stallholder's indignant cry of protest is halted by Iwaizumi's resigned sigh, and the silver coin he flicks into the old, worn wood that serves as a table.
Walking on, heedless of his actions, Oikawa glances casually over the other wares in the street, although he doesn't stop again. The late afternoon sunlight filtering through the holes in the tarpaulin of the stalls dapples his skin and accentuates the round, tender lines of his face.
Somehow, Kageyama thinks, the sunlight has the additional effect of making Iwaizumi look softer, too, and the dust he's kicking up with his boots looks a little less angry than before.
They walk along the streets of the market, Oikawa pointedly ignoring Kageyama's presence behind him and focusing on - presumably - annoying Iwaizumi with his unreasonable requests of a trinket here, a tapestry there. Iwaizumi replies with no lack of irritation, and Kageyama wonders why Oikawa never learns - but then he catches sight of the little smile that curves Oikawa's lips every time Iwaizumi darts a pointed rejoinder his way, and suddenly he thinks that maybe it's not so bad after all.
After a few uneventful twists and turns - their journey marred only by a ruffian who had leered out at Oikawa, and had been swiftly run off by Iwaizumi's scimitar, they reach the old, familiar-looking shop-house. Kageyama draws the cloak tighter around his shoulders, following Iwaizumi and Oikawa's lead as they peer cautiously around. He catches the tail-end of Oikawa's sentence as he aims a disgruntled whisper at Iwaizumi - "… obviously didn't look hard enough, otherwise why would he be here with us now..."
Iwaizumi replies with a hushed, sharp shake of the head, and looks back to make sure Kageyama's following close behind. He is, of course - there's no way he's getting left behind in the middle of nowhere, with no idea how to get back on his own.
Iwaizumi stalks up to the guard lounging casually by the doorway to the shop-house, and barks a quick order at him. The man, who has obviously been catching forty winks, jerks to his feet, his makeshift armour almost falling off his shoulders as he attempts to stand at attention, and fails - his old, dented scimitar falls to the ground with a loud, resounding crash that makes all four of them wince. Iwaizumi hisses the password at him - what it is Kageyama cannot hear - and beckons for them to follow him. He follows up the rear, ending off their entrance with a stern warning to the guard.
Oikawa leads the way, walking up the stairs with clear experience in where he's going. He stops at the second door they reach, and suddenly he's looking at Kageyama, looking straight in his eyes and keeping his gaze for the first time in a very long while.
"Are you ready, Tobio-chan?" he murmurs, and his voice is uncharacteristically quiet. He looks back at where Iwaizumi is still stiffly lecturing the guard, then turns his attention back to Kageyama. "I know we've already said this, but this is no game. There's a very real chance of failure if we lose, or are betrayed, and that means that there's a very real chance of death. You can still back out now, you know, I won't blame you - and I don't want you here anyway - I'll just tell Iwa-chan that you changed your mind, and you won't have to say a thing. Now think carefully, Tobio-chan, about what you want."
Kageyama takes a deep breath. Oikawa's tone of voice is serious, steady for once, and he doesn't make the mistake of underestimating the other's words. The consequences of his actions momentarily flash across his mind - exile, torture, death, as the penalty for failure to carry the revolution through. But then he remembers Oikawa's speech, and he remembers the unquenchable fire in Hinata's eyes, and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he's willing to risk everything to bring happiness back into Hinata's life again, back into the lives of all the unhappy people under his father's rule.
And if that means that he has to put his life on the line, well, so be it. His life is forfeit anyway, he thinks bitterly; without freedom, without love, without friendship. If he were to die, he might as well die a glorious death, and attempt reconciliation with his brother while they are at it.
He looks back into Oikawa's bright eyes, and nods. Oikawa's mouth twists sardonically, then he sighs, and turns to face the door. "Typical," he mumbles under his breath, loud enough for Kageyama to hear, but somehow Kageyama doesn't quite hear in it the usual bite that accompanies Oikawa's words.
Iwaizumi walks up to them, his face a black mask of anger. "With security like that," he mutters, "it's no wonder you heard our talk with Ukai. I'm surprised they haven't all been massacred yet - the palace spies are surprisingly lacking in ability these days."
Oikawa sighs in assent, and knocks on the door. There's a muffled scraping sound of chairs moving against the floor, then a gruff voice calls, "Come in, the door's unlocked as usual."
"But it's always polite to knock first!" Oikawa chirps as he opens the door and jauntily walks in, the usual lilt to his voice restored. He directs his blinding smile towards the man sitting on the chair behind the desk, the man Kageyama recognises as Ukai, who is presumably the head of this whole affair, or at least someone relatively high up.
He can't tell, and it doesn't help that Ukai's appearance is rather... unexpected. Dark blonde hair held back untidily from his forehead by a cloth band, a touch of foreign-ness around his eyes and jaw, and the relative well-kept-ness of his clothes differentiate him from the rest of the men standing around the room. Kageyama can tell at an instant that these men are warriors, with their thick, sinewy builds and the corded, rippling muscles of their forearms. Of course, all of them wield makeshift weapons, hammers, pitchforks and slingshots replacing proper blades, but Kageyama doesn't balk. They're formidable fighters, he admits, and perhaps they even stand a chance against the forces of the King with these men around, not to mention the skills of Iwaizumi, Oikawa and himself.
Yes, of course he knows he's good - who doesn't?)
Ukai springs to his feet the moment he spots Kageyama, and his pupils dilate almost immediately in fear. "Who is this?!" he cries, pointing an accusing finger towards Oikawa. "Who have you brought here? Is he a palace guard, come here to take us away?"
Oikawa shakes his head with a little amused smile. "He's my younger brother, Ukai-san," he purrs, his voice low and subtle, "He overheard our conversation, ah, the last time, and he's willing to join our ranks."
"He overheard our conversation?" Ukai's brows crease, and he blinks for a few seconds, before the comprehension dawns over his face and he bellows, "Yamamoto!"
After a suitable chewing-out of the recalcitrant guard, and a quick overview of the entire situation, Ukai seems a lot more open to discussion, although the suspicious gleam is still there in his eyes. Kageyama can't really blame him, though, since he probably would have had the exact same reaction.
Ukai runs his fingers over his chin and stares calculatingly at Kageyama, his eyes running over his body and assessing his build. Suddenly, he stands, and whips out a mean-looking broadsword as big and thick as his leg. "You may promise a lot of things," he sneers, "but can you fight, that's the question?"
Without any warning, he lunges for Kageyama, his sword aimed straight at the prince's heart. It's only his reflexes that keep him from being impaled like a pig on a spit, and he frantically dances away from the wicked point of the sword. He barely has time to draw out his own, casting off the cloak that hinders him so, before the broadsword is clanging against his sword and pushing him backwards. He stumbles a little, unused to fending off such a huge weapon, but then he regains his balance and twists his sword to direct the other blade to the side. Then he lunges, taking advantage of the momentary lull in the other's fierce attack, and aims for his leg.
Ukai sidesteps this blow easily, and glowers. "You aim to kill, not to incapacitate, prince!" he snarls, his eyes alight with a bright, maniacal fire. Again, he darts forward with astonishing speed, considering the weight of his weapon, aiming again for Kageyama's heart. Kageyama easily sidesteps this again, shimmying towards Ukai's unprotected side in an effort to take advantage of his weakness. His face bears a black scowl at the telling-off he has just received - of course he fought to kill, he didn't need some stranger to tell him that, but he didn't want to kill the revolutionary leader at their first meeting, did he? But since the other wants to die so badly, he decides that he'd better oblige him.
With a ferocious growl, he slips his sword under Ukai's guard and aims his blade at his throat. There is a loud clash as their blades meet again, and sparks fly, then the broadsword is plastered flush against Ukai's body with the tip of Kageyama's sword almost at his neck. They stand in that position for a few more moments, both breathing heavily. Kageyama feels sweat trickle down his temple, and although, by right, he should be stepping back to make another attack on the man's flank, he looks into Ukai's eyes, and sees something unfathomable there that makes him stop in his tracks.
He waits, his arm tense, and then Ukai slowly lowers his weapon. Kageyama takes that as his cue to do the same, sheathing his blade. "You fight well," Ukai admits grudgingly, with a side glance at Oikawa and Iwaizumi. He lumbers back to his seat, and plonks himself down with a heavy sigh. Suddenly, he looks very old, and very tired.
"How are things on your side?" he asks Oikawa and Iwaizumi, turning his attention away from Kageyama, and Kageyama exhales deeply, taking that as a sign of acceptance of his presence here. It's underrated, and a strange anticlimactic first meeting, but somehow Kageyama wouldn't have it any other way.
"I've spoken to some of the lords in the army. We're trying to get the larger factions on our side, and hopefully the smaller ones will recognise that it's their best bet on our side," Oikawa says, seating himself opposite Ukai at the desk. Iwaizumi stands behind his chair, casting an intimidating figure, and Kageyama goes to join him. "I've talked to Ushiwaka, and he says he's on our side, as long as the next king gives him back his lands." Oikawa gives a dramatic sigh, and waves his hands airily. "He wants his gardens back, apparently, which our present and dearest king took from him to pay taxes to the neighbouring kingdom. And Moniwa more or less hates my father because he took away a third of Datekou's women for his harem."
Ukai nods, but his voice is tense and curt when he speaks again. "What about Daishou? Nohebi holds the largest faction in the army, don't they?"
Oikawa shrugs. "His faction's numbers outweigh both Shiratorizawa's and Datekou's combined, that is true, but he should pose no problem to my persuasive powers." He grins, then, and it is an appealing, boyish grin. "Besides, Makki's working on his father, and I'm sure Seijou will soon be on our side. The Duke hates my father, after all. Something about pride or some such like that."
Ukai scoffs. "Nobles and their scruples," he sneers derisively, then gestures towards one of the men in the corner. The latter steps forward, holding a large map in his hands. The long dark tufts of his hair fall attractively over his right eye, and the rest of his hair stands up like a cockerel's crest. Oikawa grins affably at the newcomer.
"Kuroo-chan," he says, leaning back in his chair to make space for the map, "Long time no see, huh?" The other man, Kuroo, smirks back at him, his eyes small and slitted, his grin a crooked one revealing sharp canines filed to a point. He unrolls the map on the table and points at a few red circles drawn around some areas of the map. Kageyama, peering over Oikawa's shoulder, recognises those as the areas Oikawa had mentioned earlier - the fiefdoms of Seijou, Datekou and Shiratorizawa. Altogether, they entrap the capital city and ensure that there is a pretty close circle around it. The only other strategically-important location that is left is the Nohebi region, away to the South and controlling the port.
Kageyama wracks his brain to try and remember something from the political education lessons he's given on a weekly basis, and remembers that, in effect, Nohebi controls the resources and trade that come through. He's heard rumours about Daishou Suguru, the Lord of Nohebi, and they're not usually good ones. He's been described as a sly snake willing to do whatever it takes to win favour and come out victorious, and Kageyama wonders just how Oikawa plans to turn Daishou over to his side. From what he's heard Daishou and his father have a pretty good relationship as far as it goes, the two of them being cut from the same cloth.
The rest of their time there passes uneventfully, with Oikawa and Ukai discussing strategic plans and finalising orders. Iwaizumi chips in occasionally with a well-placed comment on the military area of the discussion, but otherwise stays silent.
At the end of the meeting, Oikawa straightens up, and stretches languidly. He yawns, a large, cat-like yawn, and takes Iwaizumi's hand to hoist himself up. "Iwa-chan will talk to the Royal Guard and get them on our side," he says sweetly, tossing the goodbye over his shoulder. "We'll see you again in a week, Ukai-san. We won't bring the brat again." This last is directed at Kageyama, who bristles at the implication, but before he can protest Iwaizumi grabs hold of both him and Oikawa and drags them out of the room.
Once they're standing outside the shop-house again, the terrified guard now standing straight and alert, Kageyama shakes off Iwaizumi's hand irritably and rounds on him. No matter how much he respects the older guard, the insult Oikawa had dealt to him still rankles, and he feels an angry itch start to grow in the bar of his stomach.
"Iwaizumi-san," he demands hotly, his eyebrows scrunched over his eyes in a black scowl, "I'm not a brat, and I deserve to come along with you on the next meeting!"
Oikawa sighs, and opens his mouth as if to respond, but right on cue, Iwaizumi directs his fiercest glare towards the prince, and he promptly shuts his mouth sulkily. That matter resolved, Iwaizumi turns back to Kageyama, his eyes a little softer than before.
"Oikawa didn't mean anything by that, Kageyama," he explains, distractedly running his hand through his hair. "It's just… These people could be dangerous, Kageyama, I'm sure you've realised that, and you shouldn't associate with them as far as possible. We don't even trust them all that much yet, and I don't think they trust us that much either. No," he says quickly as Kageyama tries to cut in, to protest, "Listen to me. Did you see Kuroo? The man with the map?"
Kageyama nods, not altogether sure where this is going. Iwaizumi sighs, and looks around him before he continues. "He's the one who tried to kill Oikawa during the parade. He's a mercenary, Kageyama, half the people there are, and they're dangerous people. Although most of them aren't really fighting for money anymore but for love of country, it's still extremely dangerous. Besides," he says, with a small, tired smile, "Two people sneaking out every week is already enough of a security risk, let alone three, and both of them princes to boot. I could make excuses for one prince, but two is a little harder, especially since you had to ditch your own guard to come out with us. Just stay in the palace and practise your sword-fighting, alright? You'll be a great asset in the coming revolution, but only as a fighter. There's no more need for you to come along to the meetings with us."
"It's dangerous, you said so yourself," Kageyama protests sullenly, defiantly. "What if all of them attacked you? You wouldn't stand a chance." Iwaizumi lets out a bark of humourless laughter. "Your presence there wouldn't really make much of a difference anyway, would it?" he points out. "I'm confident enough in my abilities to defend the prince, and at least this way if we die out here... Well, it means we've left a witness behind to avenge us." His hand ruffles tenderly through Kageyama's hair. The familiar action makes Kageyama sigh, and relent sulkily.
Oikawa bursts in, sounding sulky as usual as when he's been ignored. "If the two of you are quite done," he sniffs snootily, "we should return to the palace. Our absence can't be excused for that long."
Iwaizumi grins, a rare sight, and falls into step beside the crown prince. Kageyama hurries to catch up to them, and suddenly a question flashes into his mind. "Iwaizumi-san," he ventures, his brows furrowed. "Why don't you go out for these meetings... at night? Isn't this kind of covert business better conducted under the cover of darkness?"
Iwaizumi rubs his hand against the back of his neck absently. "Well, that's what everyone thinks, and that's what the King thinks as well," he explains, hand automatically going out to grip Oikawa's arm and prevent him from stealing an apple from the nearby stall. "There's a heavier guard posted at night, and his spies are put on the alert, so we decided that we'd be better off venturing out during the daytime. Besides," he looks scathingly at Oikawa, although Kageyama isn't quite dumb enough to miss the flash of reluctant fondness that accompanies the glare, "we could always say that the prince was seeking… entertainment outside the palace, as an excuse."
Kageyama nods. That doesn't seem too far-fetched to him, judging from the rumours that abound in the palace about Oikawa's strange... preferences. It's long been said that the crown prince is a little strange, especially when it comes to the bedroom. There have been whispers, whispers he's not been meant to hear but which have reached his ears nonetheless, of the handcuffs found in one of the prince's drawers by a chambermaid. Kageyama had thought of rebuking the woman for rifling through the belongings of another - of a prince no less - but a sudden upsurge of spitefulness had led him to let well enough alone.
The visit today has left him with plenty to think about and mull over, but still, as he treads along in Iwaizumi's footsteps, the only thing in his mind is Hinata, and his wide beautiful eyes.
It is only the next day when they meet again, in the audience chamber in front of the King. Kageyama had received the summons from a terrified-looking slave trembling outside his door, and he had the feeling that her fear had simply been amplified by the look on his face. His expression could never be described as affable, even in normal times, and it is simply ghastly in the morning.
He isn't a morning person, not by far.
Kageyama stalks into the audience chamber five minutes after the summons, doing his best to look as affable as possible despite the fact that he's trying to tie the sash around his waist as quickly as possible. Kunimi trails quietly behind him, as impeccable and inscrutable as ever.
He stifles a yawn, and bows down perfunctorily in front of the sultan, seated on his dais with two scantily-clad slaves fanning him with palm leaves. Kageyama notices that Oikawa is already there, waiting with a look of boredom on his handsome face, and Iwaizumi standing at attention behind him.
The King stirs, and Kageyama is reminded, again, why he's often been nicknamed "The Sleeping Lion". His movements are languid, deliberate, almost feline in nature, and the dangerous aura he emits would probably have sent chills down Kageyama's spine, except for the fact that he has an enormous paunch to match. The twenty-seventh Sultan of Aoba Johsai used to be a strong, ruthless leader, so it is said, and age has done nothing to mellow him, simply taking away his strength and leaving within him that fatal core of cruelty.
The atrocities committed by him and his men are well-known in the kingdom itself, and stories circulate among the peasants. It is said that he once executed three officials for the unforgivable sin of opposing his acquisition of a new concubine of dubious antecedents, who had promptly attempted to assassinate him barely three weeks after her inauguration into the harem. Lustful, vicious and unlikeable, it seems that the only things keeping him in power are alliances he keeps with his equally-debauched peers.
Kageyama rarely associates with him, seeing as how he prefers to keep company with his courtiers and harem, and sees no reason to associate much with either of his two sons. It's not a welcome summon he's received, and he's not looking forward to it much, especially seeing as how Oikawa's apparently been called in as well.
He suddenly feels dread creep through his every vein. Perhaps - just perhaps - the King's spies have discovered their association with the revolution? He feels bile rise up into his throat; the King is well-known for the long, drawn-out, excruciatingly-cruel tortures that he exacts on criminals in the kingdom, and Kageyama has no desire to be one of them, especially since the punishment would be especially harsh for the crime of treachery. He chances a glance at Oikawa, and notices how, despite the latter's bored exterior, his fingers are twisting tightly together and his feet are rigid.
Iwaizumi, behind him, has his hand on his scimitar, and although his fingers are deliberately loose on the scabbard, Kageyama can sense the tightly-leashed tension that pervades his body and threatens to break free at any sign of potential conflict.
"Tooru," comes the lazy, languid voice from the dais. "Tobio. How are my two sons?"
"We're doing very well, father," Oikawa replies, his voice stiff and formal, his head inclined in a slight bow. "And how about you?"
The King utters a low rumble that could pass as laughter, if one were listening closely enough. He shifts his weight from one side of the throne to the other, and there is a loud, ominous creak of the floorboards. Kageyama wonders how high the possibility is of the King just plummeting straight through the floor. "I am very well, thank you for asking, Tooru." He waves his hand dismissively at Iwaizumi and Kunimi. "You may leave, guards, this is a private discussion."
Kageyama sees Iwaizumi hesitate, his lips trembling with the weight of dissent; sees the way Oikawa turns back to look at him, his eyes filled with a queer sort of pleading desperation. Something unspoken, something powerful passes between them, and Iwaizumi reluctantly steps backwards. Kunimi follows his lead, and they leave the room. The sonorous bang of the door as they leave is like an ultimatum. The two of them turn slowly back to face the King, who is sitting - somewhat - upright. He fingers the edge of his glass, and his voice is airy and friendly as he continues.
"I'm sure you're wondering why I called you here today, aren't you?" he says, a deceptively-light edge to his tone. He lifts the glass of wine to his lips, takes a satisfied little sip, and clears his throat, settling the glass back down with a quiet finality. Kageyama suddenly feels like screaming, because if he wants to drag this whole goddamn rigmarole out then he might as well throttle himself and save the King's executioners a whole lot of trouble, but then the King looks up again, and his gaze is pleasant.
"Congratulations, Tobio. You're engaged to be married."
The words shock Kageyama for a moment, and he is rendered speechless. He senses, rather than sees, Oikawa's surprise as well, the utter confusion at the suddenness of such a proposal. The King takes their stunned silence as his cue to continue. "The neighbouring kingdom of Karasuno has very kindly offered their third princess to Aoba Johsai in the hopes that it will create an alliance between the great kingdoms and bring the houses of Oikawa and Hitoka to greater glory," he says, and Kageyama dazedly recalls the third princess of Karasuno, from a diplomatic visit in his youth - a slight, excitable little thing, easily terrified and quickly intimidated by his trademark glare, which had been honed to perfection even in his single-digit years. He shudders at the thought of marrying that tiny blonde little thing, but the moment he opens his mouth to protest, he sees the dangerous light in his father's eyes, and somehow the words don't come out the way he wished them to.
"Of course, your highness," he mutters, and the words sound choked and forced even to him. "Your wish is my command."
The King nods, appearing pleased, and cleans absent-mindedly at his nails with a toothpick. "Their military assistance will be of great importance when we finally carry out a retaliation campaign on the rebels," he murmurs, almost to himself, although the words are audible to all in the room. "We are of considerably greater strength than the measly forces my spies tell me the peasants have managed to cobble together, but still, I wish to crush them once and for all, and the help of Karasuno will be a great aid."
One hand clutches his glass and drains it till it is dry; with the other, he closes his fist tightly around an errant fly buzzing by his ear, and casually crushes it into dust. The buzzing stops, and the room is silent again. He continues on, as if nothing had happened, and Kageyama feels an involuntary shiver run through his body.
"When the marriage ceremony is held, they will bring along with the dowry their men in arms and weapons fit to crush the uprising; it will truly be a ceremony to remember." With a self-satisfied smirk, he leans back in his throne, and signals to the mute slave at his side to bring another glass of wine.
"Father." Oikawa's voice sounds beside Kageyama, and it is unusually sober. Kageyama turns blankly to face the other, and realises that his face is as hard as stone, although the politeness in his tone is not yet absent. "When will the wedding be held?" The King utters an ominous chuckle, his hands rubbing at the large rotundity of his belly.
"In a month's time," he croons tenderly, and Kageyama wants to vomit. "Do not fear that I have forgotten you; I have bigger plans for you, dear Tooru, than the princess of an insignificant neighbouring kingdom." Apparently satisfied with this, he leans back and dismisses them with a casual gesture at the door.
Oikawa looks like he wants to ask more, but then his mouth pinches tightly shut and he marches out of the room. Kageyama follows suit, not wanting to stay in the room alone with his father any longer than is needed, and he feels the beady, sharp stare of the latter pierce into his back as he leaves.
The moment they leave the room, Oikawa grabs Iwaizumi by the shoulders - he and Kunimi have been loyally waiting outside the audience chamber for them to finish - and pulls him close. Kageyama only hears one phrase - one month's time - before the two of them stalk away, heads still close together in hushed conference. He and Kunimi stare after the duo in mild disgruntlement at being left out, and Kageyama kicks at the floor viciously.
"I'm not a child," he mutters petulantly, at no one in particular, and Kunimi sighs.
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