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Chapter Three: The Consort's Dinner
Kurapika thought the food delicious, and the company rather ridiculous. Not because his Majesty was ridiculous, but because his heart beat so wildly thanks to him. That was ridiculous.
He stuffed his face further as if to put a cork on his emotions, to block out his heartbeat. The other man's eyes bored into him, but he said not a word. Kurapika had moved off the chaise to one of the cushions, so they could properly stare at each other, as was protocol. A mere consort was not allowed to look down at the Emperor. The Emperor's hair had begun to fall into his eyes now. A pair of steel chopsticks were set between his fingers, catching onto a piece of napa cabbage. He popped it in his mouth and began to chew, almost elegantly. What kind of sorcery was this? Eating shouldn't be elegant, not unless you've trained endlessly to do so.
Well, he had to get to the throne somehow. Unlike his predecessors, this Emperor hadn't grown up in the palace. He hadn't been schooled and groomed to one day lay claim to the crown. Many had once speculated that his ascension to the throne was carved in the blood of the late King Ji-Yeong, and that this new Emperor was nothing more than a fraud despite his uncanny resemblance. The time of rumors had passed now. At 24, eight years into his reign, there was barely a whisper of the rumors on the streets of Ryusei Empire. Many of the messengers had died in the riots. The rest, he charmed into loyalty, turning the fiercest loathing into love.
Damn, what if Kurapika got caught in his web as well? He hadn't even considered that in all his years of training.
Kurapika shook his head, inwardly. He hadn't considered it because it was utterly ridiculous. He couldn't be charmed. He was blind to charms.
"You've become rather quiet, Kurapika," the Emperor spoke in the deafening silence, and once again, he could hear that air of informality in his voice. Inside, Mother's measured voice alerted him. Spiders drew their prey into their traps without ever moving a muscle, feigning innocence. Traps because there was undoubtedly more than one in this case.
Kurapika flashed him a small smile. "I suppose that must be the sleep wearing off. I'm just a little tired."
"I should get out of your hair soon, then," the Emperor replied.
"You could stay if you'd like," Kurapika offered, slipping into his consort persona seamlessly.
The Emperor let a fond smile grace his face. "As tempting as that sounds, I think you'd be better off adjusting to palace life on your own. Besides, we wouldn't want the other consorts to get jealous."
"If they're jealous, then they're not very good consorts," Kurapika replied, bringing the non-poisoned tea to his lips. It was less fragrant than the raspberry white mixture Shalnark had prepared for him, but as long as it didn't put him to sleep, he ranked it above that monstrosity.
An eyebrow rose, and the man gave him a strange, ponderous look. "And should I spend the night with one of the others, would you remain untouched by envy?"
The words spilled out of his mouth, a coquettish grin on his face, "you'll soon find, your Majesty, that I am not a very good consort."
The Emperor processed those words far longer than Kurapika had hoped he would. "Tell me about your family."
"They're all gone." Kurapika placed the tea porcelain teacup back on the table, trying to move away from the topic before he could get worked up.
"I know that," the Emperor said, no longer looking at him, chopsticks diving back into his bowl of rice. It was such a casual, dismissive gesture that it made Kurapika's jaw clench in fury, the motion keeping the hatred in his chest from spilling out of his mouth. "Tell me about them before their deaths."
The possibility of him knowing crossed Kurapika's mind again. But if that was the case, Kurapika couldn't quite understand what he was doing still alive. The Emperor wasn't exactly merciful to his enemies. The fact that he had none to speak of was proof enough. "They were bakers. We lived in the mountains and sold our pastries to the villagers there. A year before they passed on, we moved to the inner city, and we did well. And then they died in a riot."
"I see," the Emperor said. "What were they like?"
Kurapika balanced his chin on the palm of his hand in an attempt to loosen his rigid spine, hoping the movement would release the tension inside him. It didn't. "I'd prefer not to go into detail."
"As a consort, you'll need to answer whatever questions you're asked. Might as well start with something difficult," the Emperor said, and it sounded so rational that Kurapika almost believed him.
"I'm not dense, I can evade a question without much effort on my part."
"We politicians don't rely on lying as much as you may think," the Emperor replied, his voice icy. The silver of his eyes granted passage to a calculating mind. Kurapika squirmed inwardly at the scrutiny. "This is purely a test of how well you can keep your emotions under control. That shouldn't be too difficult for you."
He was playing with him.
That was alright. Mother had taught him how to play this game.
Kurapika gave him a gentle smile. "I take after my mother appearance-wise. She was loved by everyone, though she also drove most people crazy at the same time. She always interrupted me while I was studying. My father was a lot more serious. He was a scholar, and every Sunday we'd go outside with a handful of pastries and a pile of books and read on the terrace. Then, my mother would come out and say that it wasn't healthy to sit around all day, and she'd herd us back inside, gather some supplies and we'd go hiking."
"When did they die?"
Kurapika's eyes narrowed. Damn, keep yourself under control, boy. "Five years ago, April fifteenth. I was sixteen."
"A Sunday."
"Indeed."
"How poetic," the Emperor said, standing up, tray abandoned. He gave Kurapika that same patronizingly loving smile and offered him a bright red rose. "For you."
The young consort did what any sane consort would do. He took it, gratefully, and then held out a scarlet spider lily. A trick he'd learned from Mother.
Flowers win over everyone.
" Lycoris radiata," the Emperor said, approaching his appointed lover with slow, small steps until they stood a few centimeters apart, their lips so close that had one of them been given a shove they would meet. Kurapika held back a shiver of disgust. The way the moonlight haloed him, in contrast to the glow of the candles in the room. His pale, pale skin. The skin of a dead man. The breath on his lips was warm though, the taste of yuja melting on his tongue. "I hope you don't mean our relationship to end in tragedy."
"Sometimes, we can't quite control where fate takes us," Kurapika replied. He didn't believe it, of course. Fate. Destiny. He found the very concept laughable, but he figured someone as fate-bound as the Emperor would appreciate that tidbit.
"And is what you see a terrible end?"
"Perhaps."
The Emperor's eyes gleamed now. Was it from the candlelight, or from his own darkness? Could darkness gleam? What would that even be like? A gemstone? Kurapika frowned inwardly. He didn't like comparing eyes to gemstones. Eyes were full of life, windows to the soul. Gemstones, while pretty and sparkly, were dead.
Maybe, the comparison did fit his dear lover.
"Just for one of us, then," the Emperor said, tipping his head to the side.
"Jumping to conclusions now, are we, your Majesty?" Kurapika quipped. The Emperor moved away now, and a small sliver of a smile on his face, not the charming grins he'd given him earlier.
"I have one more question."
"I am at your service."
The Emperor met his eyes, and both their masks seemed to drop, shattered by the knives in that gaze. Kurapika was nearly taken aback by his need to stab something, a feral hatred tying his desires into a bundle ready to pop. "Why did you decide to become the consort of someone you hate so dearly?"
Kurapika's jaw locked in place, stunned into silence, and the Emperor waited patiently for him to speak, all the while probably scrutinizing every single muscle in his body for signs of weakness.
"Hatred is quite a strong word."
"Were we behind the murder of your parents?"
Kurapika's lies were caught on his tongue, ready to make themselves known, but then they were dragged back in. This man gathered all this from just two encounters. Lying would not curb his suspicion, but perhaps telling him the truth would intrigue the Emperor enough not to send him right to the executioner's block?
"Yes."
"Are you here to kill me as retribution?"
Mother would most assuredly punish him for this later. "Yes."
The Emperor's eyes narrowed, his face falling for once. He reached out to touch his cheek, his frigid fingers sending icicles down Kurapika's spine. "Do not tell anyone else of your allegiance."
"Excuse me?" Did he think he was an idiot? He had been training for this position for the last five years! He knew not to tell anyone.
"Let's see how long you last," the Emperor said. Their foreheads touched, and Kurapika fought down the urge to back away. "So, what do you say? Play with me?"
It was all a game to him, Kurapika realized. Was he so bored trying to run an entire nation?
"Why would you want to play a game with your murderer?"
"Because there's nothing quite as thrilling as having your life on the line."
Kurapika tried to scrutinize his face, a blank, honest face. He liked it. He liked the feeling of his life being threatened. It was a puzzle to him. A challenge.
The consort reached out and tugged at the Emperor's collar and pulled him down. "Then, I will do my best to keep your interest, your Majesty." Kurapika pressed his lips to the Emperor's, and he felt the other man go stiff for a second, before arms caged his waist, pushing him up against his hated lover.
It wasn't as atrocious as Kurapika had expected. The Emperor's touch fell on his skin in gentle strokes, not the demanding, greedy reaction he'd expected. His grip was tight around his waist, still, his fingers clutching the fabric of his magoja.
Kurapika broke away, hoping he looked properly flushed, his breathing labored.
The Emperor released him immediately, and Kurapika praised himself on the shocked look on the other man's face. Mother taught him well. The Emperor composed himself in a split second, back to his slight amusement. "Sweet dreams, my charming prince."
"Likewise."
The taller man pressed a kiss to his forehead, his hand brushing Kurapika's, and then left his consort's lavish room without even sparing him another look. Kurapika sunk to the floor as soon as he could be sure that the Emperor was really gone. The bile rose in his throat. Who knew they'd get so intimate so early in the game? It was alright. He was used to these sorts of escapades. If he wanted to go fast, that was fine.
Dammit. Lies used to work.
The bathroom's paper door slid aside, and Kurapika scrambled for the nearest cleaning product. A bar of gray soap lay near the basin. It tasted bitter, but he bore with it, rinsing his mouth out just as quickly. Sanitization complete. The man buried his face in his hands. Damn. Damn. Damn.
This wasn't what he'd expected to feel. Disgust, of course. Maybe neutrality, considering his training. Not this.
His lip curled in revulsion. Not at the Emperor, or at the kiss, but at his own body.
He'd enjoyed that kiss. He was not fine. He was physically attracted to that bastard.
Oh Gods, he might vomit.
He heard a knock on the door suddenly, and then a voice.
"Kurapika-nari?" they said. It was the voice of a woman, graceful and concerned. "Are you alright?"
Kurapika's eyes widened in horror. Had they heard everything?
He quickly splashed some water on his face, composed himself as the icy water cooled him down. Then, toweling himself dry, he walked over to the door.
"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" he asked. There were two women behind the door. One, he recognized as Neon, with her bright blue hair and matching eyes, dressed in pinks and purples, her youthful face aglow in the light of the torches outside. In front of her, stood the woman who had spoken. She had blue eyes as well, though hers were far lighter, a lake frozen over, paler lines striking through them like cracks in the ice. Her black hair was let down in long, straight locks. She wore a nightgown similar to Neon's, though hers was much duller in terms of a color scheme. This was Aiko, he believed. She'd been groomed ever since she was born for this position, though her parents probably didn't put her through as drastic measures as Mother did.
The woman shook her head. "No, we both woke up a while ago. We both found it rather lonely and decided to play a game of daifugo, but we need another player and when we saw that your light was still on, we decided to ask you to join us." She could certainly talk quickly. "What say you to a round?"
Oh, thank the Gods for an escape from this damned thought spiral. Usually, he wouldn't agree to something like this. He had things to do, missions to fulfill, but right now, he couldn't be left to his own thoughts. Besides, it might be good to build a good rapport with the other consorts.
"I'd love to," he replied.
And so, the three consorts walked to the consort lounge - a room painted in accents of jade and gold - and played a game of cards. Kurapika won. It was the start of a beautiful friendship.
. . .
Kuroro felt a bit bad about that kiss. He hoped the poor boy didn't think he wanted to take him so soon, or ever, for that matter. He might be cruel, but he wasn't the type to force himself, mentally or physically, on someone else. The boy just needed to get his emotions under control, that was all. After that, everything would be easier.
"Did somebody have a good time?" Shalnark squealed when Kuroro finally reached him. The Emperor's palace was mostly abandoned now, save for the two purple handmaidens who had gone to fetch him. Pakunoda's staff never slept, the slips of their purple uniforms forever in motion. He'd have to give them a raise one of these days.
Shalnark trailed behind him on the way to Pakunoda's room. The candle-light soaked the corridors in golden flame, as they passed walls of paper windows and gold-winged animals. It was a quiet corner of the palace, far from the often chaotic mess of his office. The doors were bolted shut more often than not, as disturbances were hard on Paku's heart, but tonight they remained open to the public.
"He's an interesting fellow." No, whoever got him into this was the interesting one. His little prince was just a pawn.
"Told ya."
Kuroro chuckled, his hand on the iron door handle. "How is she doing?"
"Better now." Shalnark's smile waned a bit. "She woke up a few minutes ago to pain in her heart. It was going a hundred twenty beats per minute. It's gone down now, but she still feels a bit dizzy."
Nothing out of the ordinary then. Better check just in case.
Kuroro walked in, letting the wall close behind him. There were some things he preferred to do alone. "Hey, Paku."
"Hey, kid."
Kuroro bows his head, a rough chortle escaping his throat. "Will I ever not be a kid to you?"
After all he's done.
"What can I say? I'm an old woman. You're all kids to me."
After all he's taken away.
"You're only two years older than me, Paku."
And all the grief he's caused.
"Really, I feel so much older. It's probably just my stunning maturity."
She's still here.
. End of Chapter .
