A/N: I'm sorry this chapter took so long! It's also kind of jumbled in terms of plot because I'm setting up a lot of different plot points. I feel like I should slow it down a bit but meh. Anyway, I hope you all like this chapter! (Also, this is unbetaed, so that's why it's kind of shitty.) Btw, Kurta is the village that Pairo and Kurapika lived in prior to moving to the inner city. Both their parents were murdered shortly after due to their involvement in the riots.

Playing Favorites

Chapter Six: The Consort's Festival (Part Two)

Kurapika's eyes scanned the page and let it fall on the lacquered desk. He looked up at Pairo, who stood in front of him with a bashful grin on his pretty face. Kurapika had lent him some clothes – a bright red hanbok and black slippers – and they suited his lithe, delicate figure well. They both took after their respective mothers, although as a child Pairo resembled his father. Even so, Pairo's dark hair remained in the same hairstyle after all these year, straight locks framing his face.

"Show off," he sniped, though the notes of affection in his voice were plain to the ear.

"You're presenting this to the Imperial court itself," Pairo shrugged, though he was blushing now. He'd always been sensitive when it came to his writing. "It has to be perfect."

Kurapika rolled up the paper and placed it within the protective cylindrical container each of the consorts had received - a gold phoenix curled around ebony. He sat up from the green cushion he'd been sitting on, the anxiety he once felt fading into a mere hum now, as opposed to the cacophony it had been before.

"I better get this to his Majesty," Kurapika said, making sure to say the man's title with the most derision possible. He put on one of his shorter jade coats, which were meant for casual outings but didn't let anyone doubt his status for a second. Most of the garments Machi had brought him were black, though there were a few colorful splashes here and there. He turned back to Pairo. "Did you take your medicine?"

Pairo's face fell a bit. "Ah, yeah."

Heart throbbing, Kurapika crossed the room to him and put his arms around Pairo's small frame. "We'll find a cure when this is finished."

Warm skin pressed against his shoulder, brown strands of hair tickling his cheek. His friend remained silent, returning his embrace. Kurapika knew Pairo had already resigned himself to his illness and an early death, but he wouldn't give up, especially with doctors like Leorio out there.

"But tonight, I'll take you to the Festival, and we'll see how well they deal with two Kurta men," he said, holding him tighter, already forming an itinerary for the two of them. Just the two of them. He'll probably have duties to attend to as one of the Emperor's consorts, but he was sure they wouldn't miss him too much if he disappeared for an hour or two to scavenge the Festival for food.

The boy moved away and gave him a weak smile. "Go charm your Emperor."

Kurapika let out an audible groan, and whined, "I don't want to."

Pairo pushed him toward the door. "Don't you dare start slacking off now, Mother will be furious. Besides, say what you will about the Emperor, but he's quite handsome."

The young man pouted. "Why don't you try to seduce him then? Besides, you can't see him. How do you know that he's attractive?"

"Your voice is how I know," Pairo teased. Kurapika made a face. "He's probably the evilest man in the entire Empire, though, so watch your step. If he hurts you, I'll make sure to make him pay."

"And here I was thinking you were the cute, innocent one," Kurapika drawled, kissing his cheek, one hand in the slot of the screen door, ready to push it aside, and the other giving Pairo's hand a squeeze.

"Bye."

"Bye."

. . .

The Emperor was speaking with a few officials near his office. Well, he was listening and they were speaking. The voices were adamant and rushed, Kurapika only caught snatches of the conversation. "Eastern haedod-i," "Revolution," "drought," among other things. The pieces immediately fell into place. They were talking about the farmer's revolution on the border of the Kakin Kingdom, the border with the Ryusei Empire. The one that was spilling into the Ryusei Empire. It was odd to see him discussing such a matter outside of the Throne Hall but he supposed the men must've ambushed him on his way there.

Kurapika glanced at the golden dragon clasped in his fingers, the poem nestled within it. Perhaps it was time to make his retreat. Poetry didn't seem to have much of a place here.

"Are you in such a hurry that you can't manage a good morning, my Prince?" the Emperor chided, teasingly, his head marginally tipped to his side, a smile tugging at his lips. Suddenly, Kurapika found himself at the center of some of the most intense staring contests he'd ever partaken in. The most scrutinizing was that of a man wrapped in an ornate pine green hanbok. The amount of money put into his outfit alone signified his status as a high-ranking nobleman. His eyes - large, black owlish - tore into him unblinking. There were three other men, one of which he identified as Benjamin Hui Guo Rou from the Kakin Kingdom - a hulking man with hair gelled into ugly spikes, and a face full of sharp edges. Another stood beside the Prince diligently, donning a carmine military uniform, as opposed to the formal hanbok Prince Benjamin was wearing. His face had some of the same sharp edges that the Prince sported, but it was noticeably softer, and he hadn't bothered to imitate his employer in terms of appearance. A kindness presented itself in him that was nowhere to be found in the rest of the men. Maybe it was just the downturn of his eyes, or the buoyant curls styled into systematic chaos atop his head, but it was a warmth even the Emperor couldn't conjure.

The last man was one of the Emperor's advisors: Uvogin. He stood beside them, grinning as he recognized Kurapika, and framed by a phoenix tapestry.

Bating his breath and cursing his luck, Kurapika bowed to the men. "I apologize for my intrusion."

"Nonsense," the Emperor said, gesturing for him to come closer, one hand extended to him. "Perhaps you can help us make sense of this issue."

Brown eyes widened and glared, as his hand became entrapped by those pale fingers. The Emperor's smile widened. "Me?" he asked, incredulously.

"You are my consort, are you not?" the Emperor proposed. There was a silver band on his ring finger that Kurapika hadn't notice until it bit into his own skin. "I require a partner that is politically conscious."

Everything he said made so much sense and Kurapika hated it. Burying his annoyance, he let a bashful smile grow on his face.

"I'd have to know more about the situation to come up with a proper response, your Majesty. I am many things but a mind-reader I am not," he quipped, hoping the bitterness was heard only by him.

The Emperor chuckled. "Quite true, my Prince. I'm certain you've heard of the riots in East Haedod-i."

"I have," he confirmed. "I've also heard rumors of the revolutionaries spilling out into Ryusei lands."

Beside him, the Emperor gestured toward his office, as a few chatting servants passed through the halls. "I suggest we move our conversation to a more private location."

The other three men complied, and Kurapika was dragged along by the hand. The office was less cluttered than it had been during Kurapika's first visit, the scrolls now tucked away in shelves washed in red. Afternoon sunlight seeped in through the cracks in the window lattice, illuminating dust motes as they settled around them. Kurapika sat down at the polished table with his shoulder touching Chrollo's, feeling the slightest bit uncomfortable, and Benjamin and the dark-haired man sat down across from them. Benjamin's companion remained standing. Kurapika's eyes traced the pearl sheen of the phoenix encrusted on the surface of the table.

The Emperor began to speak once more. "What do you know of the damages?"

"There have been a few kidnappings, shops burned down. Many government buildings have taken a beating," Kurapika listed off. It was all bits and pieces of rumors and newspapers. He had no idea how accurate his sources might be, but it was reminiscent of the riots that had taken place in Ryusei when the Emperor first came to power.

"The property damage seems to have been a distraction," The Emperor sighed, his eyes shut. Benjamin decided to take over at that moment, not giving Kurapika so much as a glance.

"Their real goal is to kidnap as many people as quickly as possible," Benjamin said, his accent running thick through his words.

"How many people?" the consort found himself asking. Benjamin didn't answer.

For a second, Kurapika thought he saw the Emperor's eyes narrow at the other royal, but when he turned to face him fully, the irritated expression was gone. "Enough for a small army. Mostly children."

Kurapika's blood ran cold. Revolutionaries staging regular kidnappings, there was hardly a doubt they were looking for more people to fight. It was brilliant in a harrowing manner. No one wanted to harm children, and even if they decided to follow through on their capture, any violence would be frowned upon by the public. Why was he so surprised? Mother had done the same thing with him, though he was no longer a child. At the time, Kurapika found it perfectly reasonable. Become a courtesan, learn to desensitize yourself, gather as much knowledge regarding poisons as possible, and make the Emperor fall, whether it was into lust or love. These revolutionaries were undoubtedly seeking the same result: Taking down a corrupt government. Yet, from this angle, it felt eerie and torturous.

"Do you know who's kidnapping them?" he asked.

Prince Benjamin huffed, haughtily, "if we did, we would have caught them by now, but they are slippery. We have not been able to find even a trace of the missing people."

Mother had been in contact with many trafficking circles. Perhaps she knew who was behind the Revolution. He'd have to ask Pairo to deliver a message to her.

"I'd put a curfew in place," Kurapika said, eyes focused on the wall just past the three men. "And let the people know what they need to in order to get them to follow the rules. If possible, I'd place a bait as well. Someone who could easily escape them and return with information on where the enemy's hiding. That's about all I can say on the matter. Crafting anything more detailed isn't possible. We don't have enough information."

The Emperor put a firm hand on his shoulder, but those gray eyes remained on the other three men in the room. Kurapika fought the urge to shove his hand away, but settled on just sulking for a few seconds. The Emperor began to speak, and he almost sounded proud. "Well, that's that then. I can place one of my guards as the bait."

"No," the man in pine silk spoke for the first time, voice soft and monotone. He pushed a strand of his river of black hair behind his ear. "My brothers will serve as bait. It's more likely they'll be captured, as they are children."

"Children?" Kurapika repeated, incredulously. The hand on his shoulder tightened, a warning, and he held his tongue. As a consort, it was unsightly for him to lash out at someone of a higher class. For all intents and purposes, he was nothing more than the Emperor's whore, a well-educated and rich one but still. There would always be people looking down on him.

"They will do," the Emperor replied, quieter now. "We'll send them out once the Festival is over, and we have the advantage of forethought with us. For now," he stood and crossed the room. The door slid open and he gestured to the outside, "I urge you to enjoy the festivities. Both our peoples need a reason to celebrate."

One by one, they filed out, Benjamin mumbling something to his subordinate. The Emperor pushed the door shut just as Kurapika was about to leave, and the young consort stumbled back in surprise. He turned to scowl at the Emperor, who didn't spare him so much as a glance.

"Honestly," he muttered. "These people have no sense of timing."

"Pardon?" Kurapika prompted, his scowl turning into an expression of confusion.

The Emperor took hold of the container in Kurapika's hand, popping off the seal at the front and letting the scroll fall into his palm. He unraveled it and started to scan the page. Then, he looked up with those strange grey eyes, eyebrows arching and a smirk playing a heart-twisting tune on his lips.

"You think my hair's luscious?"

Kurapika stiffened, eyes averted. "It has to be believable."

"You certainly laid it on a bit thick," the Emperor said, placing the scroll in a pile of other poems at his desk. "I'm flattered, of course, but I feel like I'm going to have to live up to some unattainable expectations."

"Would you prefer I called you a murderer and a thief? A tyrant who feels nothing, who killed my parents in cold blood?" Kurapika snapped, riled by his teasing.

"There we go," the Emperor murmured goodnaturedly, ruffling up his hair a bit. "Doesn't that feel better."

Kurapika rolled his eyes, flattening his hair down. "May I leave now?"

The Emperor hummed, "no."

"No?" Kurapika repeated.

He met his eyes. "I want you to accompany me to the Festival."

Kurapika frowned. If he accompanied the Emperor to the Festival, he would be required to spend the rest of the Festival by his side. He wouldn't be able to spare even a second for Pairo. After two years of not seeing him, Kurapika couldn't watch him be abandoned again.

"Wouldn't you rather take someone more suitable?" Kurapika asked.

He seemed to consider for a second, then shook his head, "no, that would send the priests on a rampage. Traditionally, the Emperor has always been accompanied by his favorite consort. It's a representation of what's to come for all of Ryusei."

"You realize that I want to kill you –" A finger to his lips cut him off.

"Not so loud," the Emperor whispered. "And yes. You also happen to be the most interesting. I want to see how you react to a whole three days by my side."

Kurapika's jaw clenched. He hadn't thought about it that way. He'd have to deal with not killing this bastard for a whole three days, all while being in close proximity to him the entire time. It was hard enough in the few hours they've already spent together.

"I'll have them bring you your outfit. Be ready for tonight," the Emperor said, waving him away. "I trust you'll make these next few days interesting."

Interesting, interesting, interesting. He was nothing more than entertainment. Not even a threat, just a pretty face with a decent brain attached. Kurapika hated it. Hated being downgraded to 'interesting', but his mission came first, and if being interesting got him close enough to drive a knife through the Emperor's heart, then he had to keep it up.

He bowed, and then slipped out of the room, aware that the Emperor's eyes were still on him.

. . .

"Kurapika-daegam!" His maids shuffled in later in the evening with arms filled with a variety of cloths and hair ornaments. "Congratulations on being his Majesty's chosen consort for tonight's celebration!"

They pulled him off the divan, where he had been reading one of the many novels the Emperor had left, and started to undress him. One of the maids vanished into the bathing area to fill the bathtub. Once he was stripped down to just his shift, they pulled him into the bathroom and behind the colorful screen. They left to get what sounded like hair products and told him to get in the water.

The water smelled of honey, and Kurapika frowned. He always used to bathe in the honey-scented water back when he was still working for Mother in the brothel. It brought back less than pleasant memories. The leader of the maid squad came back in, followed by Kiya. In her hands was a jar of fermented rice water, and when she started to massage the liquid into his hair, Kurapika realized it smelled of lilac petals.

"Close your eyes now, Kurapika-daegam."

She rinsed the concoction out of his hair with a bucket of hot water. His hand went up to push his bangs back, eyes still shut.

"Alright, out, out," the woman said, handing him a towel and leaving once more. He started to pat his hair down with it. The Festival was starting in less than half an hour, and he wasn't about to go outdoors with damp hair. He toweled himself dry and slipped into the pure white, strangely-embellished-for-something-no-one-else-would-see shift, which settled around him like gauze. He stepped back into his quarters, where the women were done setting out his clothing. A black jeogori made of ramie fabric, a gold Phoenix emblem on the front and back of the jacket. The baji (trousers) were a solid black with gold embroidery at the waist. He was certain he resembled one of the demons, the ones that prey on innocent men and women by seducing them, as if seduction doesn't require two halves to work.

Once they had secured the jacket and trousers around him, they threw on an overcoat, tied it all together with a gold sash, and steered him to a mirror. The leader picked up a jade comb and began to work at the knots in his hair. There weren't any, so after a quick run-through, she pulled it into a pile atop his head and tied it into place with a ribbon. Kiya appeared in front of him, brown eyes shone brightly with a box of what looked like cosmetics.

"This will give your skin a nice shine," she said, opening a jar of shimmering paste and lathering it onto his pale face generously. Placing it off to the side, she wiped away the excess paste with a warm, wet towel. Then, she nodded, and went onto his eyes, bringing out a pencil and applying it to his upper and lower eyelids. "To enhance your beautiful eyes."

"My goodness, Kiya, you can't just tell the Emperor's favorite consort that he has pretty eyes. What if someone hears you?" one of the other maids – a young woman with dark hair and a rather plain face – chastised, as she styled Kurapika's hair.

Kiya chuckled, nervously. "Sorry, Yuka." She turned back to her box of magic tricks and pulled out a small container. Kurapika recognized it as a common lip paint among nobles, usually reserved for women, but men, especially consorts, wore it frequently as well. When Kiya unscrewed the little bottle, a small paintbrush revealed the color inside to be a shade resembling cherry blossoms. Kurapika kept his mouth closed as she carefully slid the brush from one side to the other, evenly coating his lips in vibrant pink. "There!"

Kurapika gazed into the mirror. He looked much like himself, and he supposed it made sense. Consorts were meant to be beautiful, but not so beautiful that they sent everyone within a mile radius into a frenzy. It wasn't like when he worked for Mother and had to stand out with gold dust and bright flashes of winged eyeliner.

"One of the Emperor's guards will come by later to take you to his Majesty," the leader said, as all the maids gathered at the door. They bowed in sync and left the room one right after the other. Pairo laughed somewhere off to the side.

"You barely uttered a word," he said, getting up from the chaise lounge. "That's rare. Usually, you've got charming remarks at the ready."

Kurapika loosened the gold sash around his waist until it was no longer stabbing into his ribs. "I didn't really see an opening," he coughed out.

"Too tight?"

"Yeah," he replied, taking Pairo's hands when the boy reached him. "Sorry I can't take you with me."

Pairo shrugged, but the corners of his eyes crinkled in sorrow. "It's fine. You're a married man now. You don't have an endless supply of time."

"I always have time for you," Kurapika said, pulling him into another embrace. "I asked one of the guards to take you instead. We'll probably bump into each other somewhere along the way."

"You'll make sure of it," Pairo chuckled, burying his face in Kurapika's shoulder, who in turn ran a hand through his soft, dark brown locks.

The sound of the door opening forced them to break apart, and Kurapika recognized one of the forms standing in the doorframe as a guard, Basho – a young man who donned the Ryusei military uniform at all times – and a woman with down-turned brown eyes and frail blonde hair cut at the shoulder.

He squeezed Pairo's hand and then threatened Basho a bit before letting the boy go with him. His eyes followed them until they vanished behind the corner, Pairo gripping Basho's arm for support. A hand went up to push his bangs back, though they fell back into place with little effort. What a mess. That should be him guiding Pairo around, not some guard with questionable taste and even more questionable loyalties. Basho appeared genial, but what lied beneath the surface, Kurapika had yet to find out. Casting the invasive thoughts aside, he pivoted to face the woman. She gave him an easy, secretive smile. How thin, she was. Sickly looking, even though she remained beautiful. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes dilated and bright, but her entire body looked ready to crack and self-destruct at the slightest pressure.

"And you are . . ." he trailed off, trying his best to remain polite.

"Pakunoda," the woman replied, bowing to him with inhuman grace. There was a richness in her voice, like dark chocolate and moonlit wine, strong and delicate at the same time. "I'm here to accompany you to the Consort's Festival before you're handed off to our dearly beloved Emperor."

Kurapika could feel the surprise on his face, but he couldn't quite force it down. "Oh."

A sort of teasing warmth enveloped her face. "Expecting someone else?"

"I apologize." He slid the door closed behind him. "I've never seen you around the palace before."

"Well, you've only been here for a week," Pakunoda remarked, walking away from him with ease. "Come along, punctuality is a valuable trait in the Emperor's husband."

He caught up with her, familiar with the more constricting nature of his current outfit. "Consort."

Pakunoda glanced at him, knowingly. "Shalnark has told me about you. He said you were a perfect match for his Majesty. He was quite adamant about it as well, practically talked my ear off. 'So smart,' he'd claimed, 'and he knows a lot about the state of Ryusei. I think Danchou likes him.'"

"What do you think?" Kurapika couldn't help but ask, and his brain seemed to panic for some reason. A feeling in his throat gave him the impression that this woman's judgment would define his fate in the palace.

Pakunoda laughed. "No need to be so afraid. I'm not a viper. Just curious." Her face turned thoughtful. "But, I suppose I don't quite see the appeal yet. You're very pretty, but the other consorts are lovely as well. Educated, intelligent, and their pasts aren't quite as murky as yours. Who knows how the public would react to some unknown character in the Imperial Palace."

There was nothing to refute. All her claims were issues Kurapika had realized as well, but his past wasn't something he could change, as much as he'd like to.

"But," she began, "I think that might be why the Emperor's latched onto you like this. Neither of you grew up in wealthy families, and you're both outcasts in the Palace, despite your high positions in the court."

Outcasts?

Characters on white paper flashed through his memory: 왕은 죽었다

The King is dead. Murdered by a man claiming to be his son.

Kuroro Lucilfer: A liar or a son. The new King breeds controversy all over the Nation. Is this the end of Ryusei?

Kurapika had first read those clippings as a child when the Emperor had first come to power. He hadn't really cared back then, though his parents debated the topic endlessly when they thought he wasn't around. They didn't hate the Emperor then. They pitied him.

"Poor boy, forced to serve the court's agenda," they'd say. It wasn't until later that they began to stage revolts and curse the Emperor's name: Kuroro Lucilfer, devil spawn. They refused to believe he was the son of the deceased King, who, for all his flaws, was always compassionate. The Emperor, with his public executions and brutal methods, was anything but. He was unnecessarily cruel, a sadist.

An outcast.

A child.

Kurapika nearly toppled at the insinuation his brain had conjured. The Emperor had taken the throne at sixteen. At that point, his cruelty couldn't be washed away with the excuse of childhood ignorance.

"Ah, I don't know which one of you would suit him the best," Pakunoda sighed, as if she'd given up on a question she'd been pondering for over a year.

"You all seem very . . . invested in his relationships." More so than the Emperor himself. In the little time, he'd spent in the Palace, only a small portion was spent devoted to his actual position as a consort. Not to mention that the Emperor had a baffling amount of self-control. No one had ever stood him up as he did. As a result, he mostly lounged around reading or chatting the servants up for information.

"Well, Kuro's always kept to himself. He's quite shy," Pakunoda lamented, and Kurapika couldn't help but give her his default look of skepticism, the look he often reserved for Leorio. "This consortship might be his only chance to find love."

"Love?" Kurapika repeated. His parents had been in love, but they had been peasants and bakers. Royalty couldn't afford love, and he was quite certain the Emperor was incapable of it.

"Paku!" A voice much like the Emperor's called out, but that wasn't quite right, because the Emperor never shouted like that. Nevertheless, it was his Majesty who marched toward them, a mixture of concern and annoyance on his face. "What are you doing here?"

. End of Chapter .

Notes:

1) And that's the end! I hope you enjoyed it!

2) I feel like I shed some light on Kuroro and Kurapika's past at the end there.

3) I hope this chapter wasn't too confusing and jumbled. It made sense in my head lol.

4) Am I making this slow-burn romance develop too fast? I feel like their relationship shouldn't be developing so quickly.

5) Do let me know what you think in the comment section!