I HAVE NO EXCUSES
I had a vet internship and exams and blah and things were super busy, but the thing is y'all get an extra long chapter so enjoy 3

It's been a couple of days since the King's revealed his plans for Kageyama's marriage and Oikawa's potential engagement – whatever bigger plans had meant – and it's driving Iwaizumi crazy. It doesn't help that Oikawa's as flippant as ever, dismissing the words as another of his father's meaningless threats. Thankfully, he has recognised the severity of Kageyama's impending marriage to the princess of Karasuno, and has been working even harder since.

The alliance would imperil their plans even further, seeing as how help from the Karasuno army would add even more weight to the King's forces. It's especially important because they know that half of the lord-generals in the royal army are perfectly loyal to the King, and wouldn't even consider allying themselves with an upstart prince with nothing to promise but a rebel (rabble) army and a vague, uncertain perhaps. There's nothing tangible for them to gain, after all, and that's really all they're after.

Iwaizumi and Oikawa had long ago already decided only to approach those who they were absolutely sure would ally themselves against the King, because of some personal grudge against the sovereign or some ulterior motive. Oikawa knows the palace gossip well, and he's quite sure of some of the things he's heard from Hanamaki and his other sources. But even so, every time they had approached one of the lord-generals, Iwaizumi had held his breath and kept his hand on his scimitar all the way through, afraid that, somehow, Oikawa would be wrong, and their betrayal would be communicated to the king, and it would be their entrails slung up around the walls of the castle as a warning, and the army would sweep through the cities massacring every one man in ten as a warning –

But so far, their luck's held, and the lords they've approached have been true to type. Ushijima Wakatoshi, lord of the Shiratorizawa fief, had had a chip on his shoulder about some piece of land taken from him by the sultan to pay the latter's debts to a neighbouring kingdom, some piece of land on which he'd apparently spent quite a bit on money cultivating gardens on. Moniwa Kaname had had to be coaxed out of his shell, but after Oikawa had dropped some subtle hints about their purpose there, he had eagerly taken up their offer. Apparently, a third of Datekou's women had been taken to feed the inner palace, and Moniwa is notoriously protective of the people.

Terushima Yuuji had been a little harder to convince, but after Oikawa had out and out promised him half of the barren northern territories to add to the Johzenji lands, he'd agreed. Apparently, the northern women could be very beautiful.

Duke Hanamaki had finally conceded, sending his son to the palace as a covert messenger to convey his willingness to align himself with the coup. Seijou is a minor fiefdom, adjoining Shiratorizawa and Wakutani, but still, it's one more lord-general who'll be on their side.

Even though they've made so many allies, Iwaizumi knows enough not to be complacent. The central army of Aoba Johsai still resides in the capital, under the direct command of the King, and its generals were forced to swear a blood vow to him. That means that they won't be betraying him any time soon, because breaking a blood vow is a direct road to hell. Some of these generals are people Iwaizumi has known; he tries not to think too deeply about what will happen to them when the two sides finally clash.

Besides, they can't afford to rest on their laurels, because they still have one left - Nohebi, the land of the serpents, its lord being Daishou Suguru.

Iwaizumi has never trusted Daishou, from the rumours about him and the things that he's heard in the servants' quarters, but from what Oikawa's said, he's power-hungry and willing to do anything it takes to get to the top. Right now, his allegiance has been promised to the King, but he's apparently switched sides in conflict before, always to his benefit. It wouldn't serve anyone well to trust Daishou Suguru, but they have no choice. Nohebi controls the southern ports, through which supplies enter, and is adjacent to the central fief of Aoba Johsai. Also, it's the closest fief to Aoba Johsai, and also the one most likely to offer backup to the royal army in any event of invasion. Thus, Oikawa has maintained that it's absolutely necessary that they win over Daishou's allegiance, in order to assure victory over the royal army.

It's not going to be a bloodless conflict, that's for sure, but Iwaizumi wants to make it as painless as possible.

Just thinking about all these political shenanigans is enough to give him a blistering headache. It's not helping that Oikawa's currently perched on the side of his bed, his head thrown back, and Hinata's mouth between his thighs.

Why is he still surprised, Iwaizumi thinks furiously, because really, he should have expected this. Should have expected that, although it had been a fortnight since Oikawa had last called for a slave, had been a long, blessed, beautiful fortnight since another body had warmed the prince's bed, his libido wouldn't hold out for long. Oikawa had the patience of a hungry cat and the sexual appetite of a jackrabbit – okay, maybe that was a little unfair.

To the jackrabbit.

But in all seriousness, it had been naïve of Iwaizumi to assume that, just because Oikawa had been cured of his flippant ignorance towards the people of his kingdom, that meant that he had been cured of his fickleness in… other areas as well.

I'm horny, Oikawa had whined, his big brown chocolate eyes turned pleadingly to Iwaizumi, and the captain of the guards had been unable to refuse. Had been unable to punch him in the face and tell him off for summoning a slave at bloody one am in the morning, for calling Iwaizumi into his room at so late an hour simply to satisfy his raging hormones. Had been unable to slam the door shut on Oikawa's melancholy pout even though the thought of Hinata in Oikawa's chamber once more made his blood boil, made all the hairs on his skin stand on end, made him think of taking his scimitar and just –

It's not Hinata's fault, and the one he wants to draw his sword on is Oikawa.

But he had been unable to refuse – same old story, he realises bitterly, because when had he ever been able to say no to the prince – and that had led to this situation. Oikawa, sitting on the edge of the bed, legs spread apart, the gauzy, filmy robe ghosting over his pale skin, and Hinata's orange head bobbing vigorously between his thighs.

Oikawa's head is thrown back, exposing the pearly white skin on his neck, and even though Iwaizumi knows at the back of his mind that it's all an illusion – because Oikawa's no innocent angel, and his skin is fucking tan, not white – he can't help but trace the line of the prince's Adam's apple with his eyes, imagine running his tongue over the chiselled line of his jaw, imagine gripping hold of that soft brown hair and just diving in for a soul-searing kiss. The robe is translucent, barely covering anything at all, and he can see the erect tips of Oikawa's nipples glistening against the gauze.

Oikawa's legs are pressed against the cold marble floor, his toes pointed and the arch of his foot off the ground in a gentle arch. Iwaizumi can see the way his calf muscles clench and unclench as he shifts his weight from one foot to another, can see the tremble in his arms from holding up most of his entire mass on the bed. Hinata's orange hair rustles softly as he moves, and Iwaizumi is so close that he can see the raised goosebumps on Oikawa's thighs from the contact between Hinata's hair and the sensitive inner skin of his legs.

The insistent throb at Iwaizumi's groin is a persistent pressure, but he barely notices it. After all, he's had plenty of time to get used to it, an unwanted, unsought-for erection which he'll resolve later in the bathroom, because even when he's talking to Oikawa and there's plenty of time for it to go down, Oikawa with his post-coitus afterglow is a force not to be underestimated. He's glad for the loose pantaloons he has to wear, now, since they hide the swell in his undergarments from sight.

Rather, the little panting moans which Oikawa is making are the things driving him to distraction; small breathy gasps he lets out when Hinata brushes his tongue against his slit, tiny hissed curses as Hinata scrapes his teeth over his foreskin, a whimper or two as Hinata's hands rub hard against the base of his cock. Iwaizumi can't see a single thing Hinata's doing – for one, it's too dark, and for another, he's not sure he could prevent himself from throttling himself if he could – but he's seen enough before to know pretty well what Oikawa likes. Because Oikawa is a flagrant exhibitionist, that's what he is, and both of them know it.

Oikawa's head slants down, and Iwaizumi knows he's close to completion. Oikawa's hand lifts from the bed, where he's been clutching with a death grip onto the blankets, and grabs hold of Hinata's hand as he begins to move his hips more vigorously, thrusting hard into the little slave's mouth. Hinata is already used to this; he keeps his head still and his throat relaxed, but Iwaizumi sees the curling of his fingertips into the cold floor and knows that it must be extremely uncomfortable.

With a groan, Oikawa grabs Hinata's head with both hands and holds him still as he comes, his naturally higher-pitched voice going up a few semitones as he moans out his pleasure. Then, just as his fingers grip tight into the roots of Hinata's hair, he snaps his head up, and stares straight into Iwaizumi's eyes.

His gaze is strong, burning, fierce, and it sends terrible shivers down Iwaizumi's spine. The brown in his eyes is dark and molten, and it's not the first time he's seen Oikawa in such a state of arousal, but it's the first time he's seen him so intensely-stimulated. There's a promise in his eyes, a sinful promise of sweat-soaked sheets and muffled curses and the creaking of bedsprings, and it's enough to make Iwaizumi groan internally. He has to consciously restrain himself from palming his groin.

When Oikawa is done emptying his seed into Hinata's mouth, he collapses, boneless, onto the bed, and Hinata gets up, wiping his mouth off. He stands on shaky feet, gathering his robes tighter around himself, but his eyes are as emotionless and strong as ever. He doesn't even flinch when Oikawa strokes a long, thin stripe up the side of his left calf with the tips of his toes, and simply stands motionless, waiting for the next command.

Oikawa opens his mouth, and it seems as if he wants to speak, but then he closes his eyes and flings his arms over his face, covering the high flush on his cheekbones –

(oh, how Iwaizumi just wants to ravish him, press his lips onto his flushed skin, run his fingers over the dewy layer of sweat on his abdomen, hold him tightly and whisper quiet words of love into his soft hair – )

- and sighs, a long, deep sigh, the sigh of a cat satiated after it has had its meal. The muscles of his stomach tense and tighten as he stretches out, his toes curling and brushing the floor with tantalising touches. He, too, remains motionless, and after a few minutes Iwaizumi realises from the steady rise and fall of his chest that he's fallen dead asleep. He gives a gentle touch to the back of Hinata's neck.

"Hinata," he says, the words uttered softly and almost soundlessly, "I don't think the prince will require anything from you from now on. You may return to your chamber now. Kindaichi is outside waiting to escort you back."

Hinata blinks, his eyes large and owl-like, although there's a hint of dark circles around his eyes, and the splash of faded blue across his forehead reminds Iwaizumi that he's just overcome an injury. Less of an incapacitation than his own, of course, but an equally painful one. Iwaizumi notices a trace of semen still on the side of the little slave's chin, and he wipes it off with soft, tender fingers.

"Take care of yourself," he finds himself saying involuntarily, and the mere action shocks him. He's never been so kind to one of Oikawa's slaves before, not really through any fault of their own – he supposes his antagonism towards them has mainly been because of a mixture of his own pain and jealousy, and the knowledge that he's completely different from Oikawa's usual preferences. Women have come and gone, mostly honoured at the opportunity to grace the bed of the crown prince, and those who had dared to showcase otherwise had soon been dismissed from the harem, demoted to working in the kitchens or other more menial areas.

Therefore, it comes as a shock to Iwaizumi when he realises that – despite his jadedness and the constant stream of slaves he's seen patronising Oikawa's bedroom – he's come to actually like the little orange-haired slave. Although he is usually quiet in front of the prince, he had shown an unexpectedly-adorable side of him occasionally when Iwaizumi had been the one to escort him back to his chambers, instantly turning talkative and feisty the moment they had left the stuffy, over-warm bed chambers of the prince.

Although in the beginning he had been sombre, almost morose at times, as time had passed he had seemed to become both resigned and used to the situation, treating it as routine whenever Iwaizumi came to call for his services. Iwaizumi can admit freely to being fully impressed by his emotional strength and the way he's able to bounce back after every hit. Even the orgy with the Duke's son hadn't cowed his spirit; far from that, since he had only become more inquisitive and fiery, in his own undercut way, after the incident.

Iwaizumi wonders what he could be like if he hadn't been pressed into the service of the palace, forced into living the life of a harem slave, if he hadn't been kidnapped by a slaver and left to live a life of his own. Hinata has never let anything slip about his past, and Iwaizumi hasn't asked – he, of all people, can appreciate it when people have a past they want to hide. He can only assume at the time that it was an unhappy one, one better forgotten and laid to rest.

So yes, he does care deeply for the slave, in a tender, platonic way, and it's only now that he realises that that's why it hurts so much when he sees him being fucked by Oikawa. Partly jealousy, and partly anger at the prince himself, for being so debased as to defile the purity of one so young and with so much potential.

But that's exactly what Oikawa does, after all. He can't see anything except for himself, and hurts everyone around him because of his selfishness. He had changed somewhat after the attempted assassination and that bright, beautiful moment when he had finally seen Iwaizumi's scars, but deep down, that change can only go so far, and Iwaizumi knows it.

Why he continually allows himself to get hurt, he never knows – after all, he knows Oikawa would never bar him from returning to his hometown, to his family, even if it meant leaving his side. He would throw a tantrum, of course, scream and cry and rant, but Iwaizumi knows that Oikawa would never be so truly cruel as to forbid him from leaving. He's not his property, after all, and no matter how rotten Oikawa's become, he still recognises that, at least.

Iwaizumi starts out of his reverie as Hinata brushes past him, his strides quick and measured, as he closes the door behind him with a soft thud. There is a peaceful silence in the room, the candles extinguished and the gauzy curtains fluttering in the breeze coming from the slightly-open window. Iwaizumi rubs vigorously at his eyes with the palm of his hand, realising blearily just how late it's gotten – blast, he's only got two more hours of sleep after this before he'll have to wake up for morning patrol – and turns, ready to leave through the door, when he pauses.

He looks back at the bed, at the thin figure of Oikawa, lying gently on the soft throws of the bed, and he sighs. Iwaizumi walks towards him, and permits himself a small touch – just a small ghosting of his fingertips over the lines of Oikawa's face – then his hand tightens into a fist, and he sighs. With a gentle, careful movement, he arranges Oikawa properly so he's not hanging half off the bed, pulls the covers tight, and tucks him in.

"So tell me, Your Highness, what can have brought you today to my humble domain, of all places?" Daishou Suguru's voice is deep, and oily, and every word he speaks makes Iwaizumi want to loose a punch at his face. Today, he and Oikawa are standing in the receiving room of Daishou's elaborate palace, more elaborate, some might say, that some of the inner rooms of the sultan's palace itself – although those who said so daren't say so in public of course, for fear of having their bowels cut out.

The lord of Nohebi himself is clothed in a long robe of cotton, the long white sleeves draped casually over his arms and the tips of his gold-leaf sandals peeking out of the bottom of the robe. His hair is covered by a white headdress secured by a black band, although sweaty strands of his brown hair stick out of the headdress and partially cover the left side of his forehead. Iwaizumi doesn't like him at first sight, and he knows Oikawa doesn't either, but he doesn't show it, at least.

Because, no matter how sly Daishou is, no matter how good he is at playing the games that are required of nobles of the peerage, Oikawa is equally sly, equally good at political manipulation. He's had plenty of practice, after all, in the convoluted, entangled environment of the inner palace. So he gives an equally smarmy smile and executes a complicated bow, which Daishou has no choice but to return.

"Lord Daishou, I come here today regarding a very… sensitive matter." Here he pauses, as if weighing his words carefully, although Iwaizumi knows that the pause is fully deliberate, intended to raise the suspense and heighten Daishou's curiosity. It works. The lord leans forward, his eyes narrowing with a bright spark of interest lighting them.

"A… sensitive matter?" he drawls, and Iwaizumi can practically see him licking his lips.

Oikawa nods confidentially, and leans even closer. "One which few know," he murmurs, his lips barely moving. "A very private, confidential matter which must… must stay between us. I fear it is about the king."

A sharp intake of breath, then Daishou nods, cautiously, prompting him to continue. The malevolent, inquisitive gleam in his eyes doesn't diminish.

"As you know," Oikawa continues, his words coming out slow and pedantic, "our king – may the gods bless him, my dear father – has been growing, ah, erratic, of late." Here he looks up, receiving a quick nod of affirmation from Daishou, and is encouraged to continue.

"He has made many political moves which have been inadvisable for one of his experience, and for one with so many… talented advisors, if I may say so." There is another deliberate pause here, leaving no doubt whatsoever as to whom he is referring to. A slight curl of satisfaction at the edge of the lord's lips is all that represents his reaction, but it is enough to show that Oikawa's making progress.

"The recent war with our neighbouring kingdom, for example." Oikawa leans over to the nearby dressing table and picks up the wooden globe on the table, spinning it with a bored finger as he reclines lazily on the throws that line the floor. There is a quiet scraping sound as the globe turns, then he stops it with a precise finger, touching lightly on the lands of Kitagawa Daiichi – what used to be Kitagawa Daiichi.

Another pause, this time thick with a latent tension that needs no words to express. Iwaizumi finds himself unconsciously holding his breath, and sees that Daishou is doing the same. He has to admit, the prince does have a way with words, no matter how much of a selfish, self-centred brat he can be. Oikawa knows people, knows them well, knows their dark sides and their insecurities and their weaknesses, and he has no qualms about using them to his advantage.

"It was an ill-advised conquest, one I believe was opposed by many of his most trusted advisors. The ones who condoned it, of course, were nothing more than fools. Of course, we won the conquest, but at such a cost! Lives lost, resources wasted, so many opportunities forgone, and all for a barren, tiny island. Such a pity. If only the king had listened to those wise, farseeing naysayers… The battle could have been easier won, or we could have directed our resources elsewhere."

Even now Iwaizumi thinks he's laying it on a bit thick, but one look at Daishou tells him otherwise. The disgusting man is lapping it all up, the words clearly a balm to his injured pride.

"Such a pity," Oikawa repeats, shaking his head and exhaling a sigh of regret. "So many things wasted that day, and all because the advice of our master's wisest advisors went unheeded. Say," he exclaims suddenly, as if the thought had just occurred to him, and turns large, innocent eyes towards Daishou. "Were you not one of the advisors who spoke out against the king's decision?"

Daishou's face splits into a wide, smug smile, and he brushes back the sweaty strands of his hair sticking out of the headdress. He bobs his head from side to side, a self-deprecating motion, but it's obviously a perfunctory one, done only to satisfy custom. He's clearly expecting more praise, and Oikawa, duly, gives it to him.

"Such a disservice to so valuable a member of the king's court," Oikawa murmurs, shaking his head sadly. "The king should have listened to you. If he had… ah, I know not why he did not. You are one of his oldest advisors, after all, and one of the best – if I may offer my humble opinion from sitting in on multiple court sessions – and it was a great folly to ignore your words. I truly apologise on my father's behalf." The words have become as oily as Daishou's own, and Iwaizumi feels like vomiting.

"Nonsense," Daishou says, his mouth twisting in mock regret. "The sultan is the sultan, after all, and his word is law."

"But to ignore your advice," Oikawa persists, "so freely given and with such good intentions… No, no, I cannot let such a slight pass. It is too much of a waste of your great and vast talents if you serve only my dear father, if you don't mind me saying so. You would not be put to full use, I can assure you."

"What would you have me do then, my prince?" Daishou replies, but this time his voice is edged with a sharp scent of suspicion. He looks at Oikawa, his eyes sleek and narrowed as ever, but the glint in them is dangerous. Iwaizumi unconsciously shifts his hand closer to the hidden dagger strapped to his thigh.

"Support me," Oikawa purrs, and the spell is cast. His voice is melodious, sing-song, beautifully pitched, and it makes the air in the room reverberate. The inflection of his words is so powerful, so influential, that Iwaizumi can see Daishou practically melt into the ground. To his credit, he remains standing, although his hands are a little shaky when he grips the hem of his robe. A sardonic smile slashes across his face like a scar.

"Support you?" he says, a hint of contempt in his voice. "You attempt a coup?"

"Not a coup," Oikawa drawls. "A… political reshuffling, if you may call it that. My father is old and unsuited for the throne, and I believe I will be better for the job than he is. Throw your lot in with the crown prince, Lord Daishou, and I promise you will not regret it. You will earn fame and great, great power at my new court, the leeway to do most whatever you want, and I will treasure every valuable piece of advice you can give me. I can guarantee you that much. Does that not sound promising?"

Daishou is swayed. Really, he is, and Iwaizumi can clearly tell. But then he narrows his eyes even further, and they become snake-like slits, full of suspicion and fear.

"I am not here on behalf of my father," Oikawa says quickly, detecting his inner concerns. "You may not believe me when I say that I have no hidden agenda – I do not wish to trick you into voicing your concerns against the king, nor do I wish to enslave you to my cause – but I propose this as an alliance. I am young, and naïve, and I would ask for your valued experience and assistance to make this country great again. Will you join me?"

"So you have joined hands with the resistance?" Daishou murmurs, his tone flat and betraying none of his emotions. "There were rumours, but I didn't think… I hardly thought…"

"The revolutionaries are but my puppets," Oikawa parries smoothly, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward slightly. Daishou mirrors his action, and they stare into each other's eyes, neither giving way, neither faltering. "I accepted their help because it would swell my ranks, and because it would earn me the love of the peasants. Come now, my lord, do you seriously think that I would compromise to a band of riff-raff? I know what is best for the nation, and I know what is best for its nobles. Join me, and you rise to power alongside me. Are you willing to swear a blood-oath to me and my army?"

"Who are those who have already joined you?" Daishou asks, and his tongue flicks out to lick at his bottom lip. Oikawa waves his hand airily. "A fair number, but I cannot tell you until you swear the oath," he purrs. "They are my allies, after all, and I treasure my allies. I would not wish to see them burn at the stake before our plans were allowed to mature."

"And supposing I… lent a hand to your little campaign?" the lord says, his voice sleek. "How would it help me?"

"I would give you power," Oikawa drawls – as if he hasn't mentioned it at least a thousand times already – "And respect. The name of Nohebi would be one to be feared. Your fiefdom would become one of the richest in the kingdom of Aoba Johsai. Is that not a vision to behold?"

Daishou seems to mull over the matter for a few more moments, but then he looks up sharply, his eyes glistening with a strange, repellent moistness - the eyes of a reptile, waiting to pounce. He smiles, slow and smug, a sharp red line that cuts across the length of his face, and summons his servant forward.

"A blood oath it is," he says, and reaches for the ceremonial dagger.

"I don't trust him," Iwaizumi mutters, as they enter the sedan and shut the door tight. He calls out a command to the camel-driver and holds on tight to the edge of the seat as the camels start their slow, rambling walk back to the palace.

"I don't trust him either," sighs Oikawa, lying down on his customary seat next to Iwaizumi and absent-mindedly laying his head in his lap. He reaches for the dish of fruits set on the seats opposite, but Iwaizumi automatically picks up the apple slice he's aiming for and proffers it to his lips.

"As long as he doesn't betray us," Oikawa continues, the words muffled by the apple slice in his mouth, "I don't care what kind of person he is. I'm more interested in the size of his forces. With the port under his control, the sultan won't be able to get any supplies from Karasuno or any of the neighbouring kingdoms from any ships they send. And with Ushiwaka controlling the Silk Road entrance, there won't be any supply caravans coming in overland either ."

"That's true," Iwaizumi admits. All of the hairs on his neck had stood up the moment they had entered Daishou's presence, and every fibre of his body had screamed at him to leave, to mistrust the snake lord with his lying words and smooth tongue, but it was true that Nohebi was critical to the success of their plans. With all the other kingdoms virtually under their control, a less bloody coup is, hopefully, within their reach.

Grudgingly, Iwaizumi has to admit that Oikawa's done a pretty damn good job convincing the lords to swear oaths to him. Oikawa knows people, knows how to get under their skin, knows what troubles and plagues them, and he clearly knows how to use that to his advantage. Which makes Iwaizumi wonder about all the times they've played the temptation game.

He's long suspected that Oikawa has some idea about his feelings for him, and has been playing with him all along, but with no clear proof, there's nothing to support that idea. No one could miss the way he looks at Oikawa, the way he lusts after him like a starving man at a lavish buffet, and Oikawa probably knows – or, at least, has some sort of inkling. But it doesn't matter to Iwaizumi. He knows Oikawa could never, never have feelings for him, and thinking otherwise – that the prince could somehow reciprocate his love – will only bring about depression and despair. So he'd long ago resolved to keep his feelings locked up, to never let Oikawa find out, and to never let things change between them.

It's the only way he can keep himself from pouncing on the prince and devouring him whole.

He realises with a start that Oikawa's been shaking him this entire time, looking at him with concern. "Iwa-chan," he says anxiously, shaking his shoulder vigorously. "Are you listening to me?"

"No," Iwaizumi admits brazenly, looking at Oikawa and trying not to let his inner turmoil show. But it was a bad idea – the light glances off his light brown hair and sends sparkles through the irises of his eyes, casting his face in a blaze of colour and highlighting the faint blush that rides across the top of his high cheekbones. There's that familiar spark which thrills through his body at the touch of Oikawa's skin against his, permeating even through the thick fabric of his robe, and sending a hot flush through him. He tries to control himself, to blink the vision away, but Oikawa's leaning closer and his eyelashes are so long and his lips are so plush –

"Ow, Iwa-chan!" Oikawa's pained yelp brings him back to his senses, and he starts as he realises that he's caught hold of the prince's thin arm, and has been squeezing it to a pulp. Quickly, he lets go, mumbling quiet apologies that are hardly intelligible, and Oikawa rubs sulkily at the area on his arm, which is quickly turning red.

"You'll be giving me bruises next, Iwa-chan," he complains, pouting. "What were you thinking about? You looked so constipated, I wondered if you had to go to the toilet, Iwa-chan. Do you? I can tell the camel-driver to stop now and let you get off at the side of the road."

"Sorry," Iwaizumi says again, mechanically, and stops himself from shaking his head to clear it. Oikawa peers at him, and this time there's real concern in those big chocolate eyes. "Hey, Iwa-chan, are you really okay?" he asks, his voice worried. "You never apologise. Do you have a fever or something? I thought they said idiots don't get sick, or something like that."

"Shittykawa, shut up," Iwaizumi mutters, but the insult is half-hearted. "I was just thinking, that's all."

"So rare of you, Iwa-chan!" Oikawa squeals. "No wonder I could hear some weird sounds. It must have been the sounds of the rusty cogs in your head starting to grind."

Iwaizumi sighs, but Oikawa's playful teasing has restored him to normality. He can handle himself now – after all, he's been doing that for the past few years, he thinks grimly – but then something suddenly comes to mind, and he proceeds to cut rudely into Oikawa's ramble.

"Oi, Trashykawa," he growls. "You know what the sultan said that day… About having 'other plans' for you…"

Oikawa's eyes suddenly turn sharp, and that unsettles Iwaizumi slightly. Whenever Oikawa stops being flippant and turns serious, it always makes Iwaizumi feel slightly unbalanced, as if he's facing an Oikawa he doesn't know. But then again, he reminds himself, he's still the same old idiot prince, and smartening up a little doesn't change that.

"What about it?" he murmurs, his voice toneless and flat. "What, you're worried about it?"

"I'm worried about you, Shittykawa," Iwaizumi says, and the brittleness of his voice surprises him. The thought of what's waiting for Oikawa, what the sultan has in his twisted mind for his first son, is a terrifying thing to think about indeed. "Aren't you worried at all? Aren't you afraid of what your father will do?"

Oikawa looks at him then, his eyes large and searching, his body languid and relaxed, his arms draped over the corner of his seat. He smiles. "Why should I?" he asks, his voice as carefree and rich as ever. "I have you, don't I, Iwa-chan?"

"Kunimi," Iwaizumi says, and his voice is commanding. It is so different from his usual calm tone that Kunimi immediately looks up from the scimitar he's been sharpening at the grindstone. The sound of the metal against stone makes a screeching, dissonant sound, and Iwaizumi winces. Kunimi stops pumping at the grindstone and lifts the scimitar away.

"What is it, Iwaizumi-san?" he asks, re-sheathing the scimitar and standing to execute a smooth bow. He looks at Iwaizumi with his typical deadpan stare, waiting for the answer to his question.

Iwaizumi frowns as he considers how best to go about this. With the date chosen for the battle a bare two months away, he's decided that, if he were to rally the royal guards around him, he could only choose those who have yet to swear the blood oath to the king, seeing as how only the personal guards of the king have to do so.

As the captain of the royal guard, technically as part of the ceremony to grant him captaincy he should have had to swear to the sultan as well, but a border conflict had forced the king to rouse himself and leave the capital, and he had sworn it to the crown prince instead.

Something he thanks the gods for every day of his life.

Every time he thinks of Oikawa, the reasonable, rational part of his mind tells him that his loyalty stems from the knowledge of the blood oath he had sworn, the shared intimacy of the age-old ceremony, but in his heart he knows this not to be true. There are many nights on which he recalls the feeling of Oikawa's lips on the back of his hand as they exchanged the blood vow, recalls the prick of the knife against the tip of his thumb, recalls the heat of Oikawa's breath on his skin as the prince leaned forward to press a kiss to his forehead, and he knows that it is no simple blood oath that binds them irrevocably to one another. It had been that day that he had gone back to his quarters, loins aflame and heart beating like the drumbeats of the desert folk; it had been that day that he had first pleasured himself with thoughts of Oikawa in his mind.

It is a shameful memory, and not one he wishes to keep, but it is nonetheless ingrained into his mind.

He trusts Kunimi, and out of all the royal guards under his supervision he's closest to this emotionless, quiet man. Iwaizumi's hoping that after gaining a promise of his support, Kunimi would be able to approach some of the other guards they trusted to garner their support as well. As captain, many of the guards are afraid of him, and he's hoping that Kunimi will be the link between them to earn their support.

Although Kunimi is Kageyama's guard, both he and Oikawa were chary of giving Kageyama the responsibility of speaking to him and revealing their link to the revolution – they both know Kageyama's temper and impulsiveness, and so important a task cannot be entrusted to him. So Iwaizumi had chosen a day when Kageyama would be having a private chess game with the king, and he had decided to speak to Kunimi now.

"What is it, Iwaizumi-san?" Kunimi repeats the question, his voice as blank as ever, but Iwaizumi has worked with him long enough to recognise the bare hint of impatience that tinges his emotionless speech. Iwaizumi gives an apologetic chuckle, and rubs the back of his head. He takes Kunimi's arm.

"I have to speak to you about something, and we'd best not do it out in the open," he murmurs, keeping his voice in an undertone. Kunimi's dark brows snap down over his eyes, and he bites his lip, but still, Iwaizumi is his captain, and he cannot very well disobey an order from his superior, so he gives a tight nod, and acquiesces. Iwaizumi leads him back to his quarters, where he knows no one will disturb them, and locks the door.

He turns to the other guard, rubbing his hands together unconsciously. When he realises it he stops the nervous action and forces himself to focus on Kunimi, who has sat on the bed and is looking up at him questioningly. The anxiety is burning up inside his chest, forming a vise around his heart, for somehow he feels agonisingly on his toes, as if he cannot breathe – what if Kunimi refuses? What if his loyalty to the sultan is so strong that he would opt to betray both Iwaizumi and Oikawa to their monarch to save his own skin? Although he knows, deep down, that Kunimi isn't like that, that he wouldn't do that, the fear and nervousness is still present. Iwaizumi takes a deep breath to calm himself down.

"Kunimi," he begins, and coughs. "What do you think… of the king?"

Well, that was unexpected. He hadn't originally planned on starting this way, but it was as good an opening as any. Kunimi blinks several times like a startled jackrabbit, as if he hadn't expected such a question, but then recovers his original coolness, and peers cautiously up at Iwaizumi through his lashes.

"What do you mean, Iwaizumi-san?" he says, the words halting. Iwaizumi understands his reticence – after, all, no one in their right mind would voice out any negative sentiments towards the sultan, particularly when the latter is a tyrant, and particularly to his superior, not when there is a chance that he might get his head lopped off for doing so. But that is an obstacle he'll just have to surmount.

So he chooses his words very, very carefully.

"Well, what do you think of him? Is he a good leader, a bad leader, do you love him, do you hate him?"

Kunimi's eyes go wide, and his head darts frantically from side to side, as if seeking out invisible spies hidden in the wide drapes that shield the window, spies waiting to clap him in irons and drag him into the dungeons for the unforgivable sin of speaking out against the king. But there are no invisible agents of the king, and it's just Iwaizumi and him in the room.

"I don't understand, Iwaizumi-san," he murmurs, and for once his voice is subdued and quiet. Iwaizumi sighs. Well, he'll just have to be blatant, and gamble his lives on one throw of the dice. He takes a deep breath, and dives in headfirst.

"Oikawa and I have joined the side of the revolution, and we'd like to ask your help," he says, his voice firm and unwavering, and Kunimi's eyes widen even further into large grey pools of surprise. There's a tense silence for a few seconds, then Kunimi breaks it with a loud, exasperated exhalation.

"Forgive me for saying this, Iwaizumi-san, but are you out of your mind?" he says, his voice as deadpan as ever. Iwaizumi bristles, the rudeness unexpected and unprecedented, but as he opens his mouth to speak Kunimi beats him to it. The latter runs his long, elegant fingers through his hair, and resumes speaking casually.

"I didn't mean that you were out of your mind for joining the revolution, I meant it because you took a huge risk mentioning it to me, so blatantly. What if I were on the side of the king, and reported both you and Oikawa-san to the sultan's guards? What would you do then?" Kunimi continues, and Iwaizumi winces, because those had been the exact thoughts running through his head. Kunimi's head is hanging downwards, and Iwaizumi cannot see his expression, but somehow that doesn't make him worried at all.

"We have to take chances, or we won't succeed," Iwaizumi murmurs quietly. "We took a chance on you."

Kunimi exhales again; this time it is a softer sound, gentler somehow, and he looks up. His eyes are no longer calm, but as fierce as the waves of a stormy grey sea. He nods, once, and Iwaizumi notices that his fingers are gripping tight into the fabric of the bedsheets, so tight that his knuckles have turned white. "I will help you, Iwaizumi-san, and I will speak to the rest of the guards whom I trust. Kindaichi, Tanaka, Nishinoya, Ennoshita, Yamaguchi… I will speak to them, and I will garner their support for you."

Iwaizumi senses that there is a story behind his easy acceptance, but this is neither the time nor place to ask – and besides, he is not close enough to the man to warrant words on their personal affairs. So he nods his head in satisfaction, and sits down to discuss further details on the subject with Kunimi.

There is a hot flame of excitement running through him, for it is now that he realises – that he fully realises – the wheels of change have started to turn, and the revolution has truly begun, at last.

did I mention YURI ON ICE
god kill me blame viktor for how late this chapter is
find me on tumblr at kitcatkandy, leave a review if you can and thank you for reading :3