A/N: Hello, I'm sure you haven't noticed since this hiatus has been about as long as all my other ones, but I've actually been working on this fic in that span of time. I've edited all the chapters to give the reader a better understanding of where they are, since even I had trouble understanding while I re-read the chapters. It's a different experience between reading something whilst writing it (you just want it to be over) and just reading it (you actually want it to make sense). So, yeah, I've changed a few things. For those of you who might find it confusing, since I definitely do at times, I do have a basic foundation upon which the setting is based on. Gyeongbokgung Palace was the main royal palace during the Joseon Dynasty and it is the main setting for the first arc of Playing Favorites (there are three, all taking place in different settings). There is a map of the Gyeongbokgung Palace that is pretty similar to the Palace in Playing Favorites. It can be found at this link: walking-tour/Gyeongbokgung-GyeongbokPalace_/608.
Playing Favorites:
Chapter 8:
The Consort's Festival (Part Three)
His bare feet tapped against the cool bamboo flooring, pale gossamer socks and black slippers abandoned at the entrance to the Consort's Palace. He was far from the dimming festival lights now, safe within these stone walls. Silence thrived here, save for the creaking floorboards. Kurapika had been the first to return, feigning illness. The Emperor let him off with a curious look and a teasing comment.
The sconces had stayed alit, though a few candles had been reduced to stubs, their cream-like wax leaking down bronze metal. The windows were shut closed. There had been two guards posted outside. His room was unguarded.
Was the Emperor really so careless? Any number of people could've broken into the inner palace at this rate, no matter how well-guarded the outer walls were. Assassins, thieves, Tserriednich. Though, Kurapika was certain being caught with the Emperor's Consort wouldn't end well even for him. It was surprising how much security Kurapika found under the Emperor's power.
Kurapika slid the wooden screen door aside. Inside, his room smelled off the orange blossoms that rustled underneath his windows. The lilies the Emperor had given him had been cleared out long ago, though Kurapika could feel the overpowering scent still linger. He wondered once again why the Emperor loved the flower so.
The candles in his room had yet to be extinguished, and Kurapika was certain staying up a few hours more would be possible. His mind was tired and trembling, and as he took in the books on the jade green shelf and the essays the Emperor had sent for him to review, it beckoned him to sleep. But he was sweaty from the summer air, and going to sleep without a bath for his aching muscles seemed almost criminal. The waxed marble floor of the bathroom glowed, moonlight slipping through the sheer curtains. Kurapika shut them.
He vanished behind the beige screen (installed after the last time Shalnark accidentally walked in on him bathing) that hid the porcelain bathtub. Kurapika twisted the knob for hot water and waited for the clear water to fill up. A few moments later, he'd taken off his black jeogori (the upper garment of a hanbok) and baji (trousers), leaving them discarded on the floor.
Had Tserriednich recognized him as the boy he'd tried to murder all those years before? Kurapika would suppose so, but then, the man must've murdered so many that they all blurred together in the end. Though, he doubted all of them had a magician interfere.
His head tapped the back of the porcelain tub. He'd think about it in the morning. Maybe even tell the Emperor what was happening, but there was a possibility that his previous position as a courtesan would come to light if he did let it slip. Tserriednich didn't just target anyone. It wasn't worth jeopardizing his mission further.
Once he was soaked through to his soul in rose-scented water, he stood, dripping wet. He reached for the towel hanging on the beige screen, eager to reach his soft, welcoming mattress. His sleepwear was gray cotton tonight, and much warmer than the luxurious silk he'd worn before.
His bed had already been made for him, with a fresh downy comforter laid out to keep out the occasional summer chill. Kurapika didn't notice.
. . .
Sometime later, when the sun was still a few hours away from making an appearance, Pairo slipped under his covers. His skin was cold. Kurapika wondered if Leorio was the one who'd kept him up all this time.
"I saw Tserriednich," Pairo whispered, wrapping his arms around Kurapika. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"You were already worried enough," he lied. He didn't want to talk about it. There wasn't much to say. He had run away.
"I've always time to worry about you," Pairo said, his own cotton sleeve brushing against Kurapika's shoulder, as he pushed some blonde strands out of his face. His eyes began to close. Someone cleared their throat. Kurapika sprang up, picking out the shadowed figure.
"Your majesty?" he said. His heartbeat slowed, but his unease didn't leave him. The Emperor's outline was becoming clearer now, and Kurapika could make out some of his sharper features as he stepped into a small slit of moonlight. The line of his jaw, his nose, his slightly downturned eyes.
"When I said that your friend may stay within the premises of the Palace, I did not mean for it to be taken as permission for bed-sharing," the Emperor said, humor clear in his voice. "Careful, if I were a lesser man, you'd both be drowning in the river."
"Then, it's fortunate that you're not a lesser man," said Kurapika. Pairo was still sitting beside him, brown eyes creased in curiosity. "Is something amiss, your Majesty?"
"Why do you ask?"
"I somehow find it odd that you would bother visiting me when breakfast is mere hours away," Kurapika replied.
The Emperor had a smile in his voice now. "Forgive my intrusion. I suppose even my patience has its limits."
"And what has caused it to wear so thin?" His grey cotton pajamas felt cold. How would he avoid telling him of Tserriednich? Every last secret he'd intended to keep would be revealed. After all, Tserriednich only targeted courtesans. It wouldn't take the Emperor long to put together the pieces. And then what?
"Concern," the Emperor said. Kurapika could hear the folds of his attire shift as he approached him. "You were acting strangely at the Festival. Well, even more so than usual."
Pairo snorted. Kurapika's lips thinning. Was it just him, or was Pairo showing far too much tolerance toward the man?
"It's a personal matter –"
"Tserriednich is here," Pairo said. Kurapika gave him a frantic look. "We have history."
The Emperor frowned, though he did not appear surprised. "What did he do?"
"You sound like you know." So, not only did he abuse his subjects, but he also turned a blind eye to serial killers. A model Emperor, really.
There was a shift in his expression, and the moonlight vanished to keep it hidden. "I've been trying to incarcerate him for the last year, but he's never been caught on Ryusei territory. Most of the time he clings to Kakin, and I have no substantial authority there."
It would mean another war. Kurapika's temper retreated. He laid against the oak headboard. They couldn't afford yet another war, not after they just solidified their peace in writing.
The Emperor scrutinized him, realization crossing his face. "How could you have been mixed in with his victims? I'm fairly certain he only targets courte –"
That was quick.
Ah, was he broken?
Kurapika could probably stick a knife through his heart and no one would stop him.
"Does he know you're here?" he asked.
"We ran into each other," Kurapika replied. "I doubt he was able to put two and two together, though. I was in disguise."
"You were wearing a soldier's cloak," the Emperor replied, crossing his arms. "I wouldn't call that a disguise."
"I doubt he'd recognize him," Pairo cut in. "Without all the makeup and flashy clothes, you hardly look like your old self. Too plain to be in a brothel."
"Thanks."
"I mean that in the best possible way."
The Emperor had gone silent in their banter, his body still as his mind evaluated the situation. "Were you attacked on Ryusei territory?"
Memories pushed into his consciousness, and Kurapika attempted to extract only the necessary details. A dimly lit room, cotton sheets, the smell of smoke and the metal hue of blood, not a window in sight, the rest he kept locked away.
"I was given sedatives beforehand. I only remember the room," Kurapika replied. The Emperor sunk back into his schemes, his eyes unfocused.
"But there's someone who might know," Pairo chimed in, on the edge of victory, but there was caution in his wording.
Kurapika gave him a curious look. "Who?"
"Our magician. Hisoka, he was the one who got you out –"
Kurapika's face turned sour.
"–We can ask him for help."
Kurapika fell back on the bed. It was almost definite that Hisoka would know, but he was an information broker first and foremost and Kurapika wasn't sure if he felt up to paying his price.
"He's fond of you, Kurapika. He'll agree if you ask," Pairo said. "It's worth it if it gets rid of Tserriednich."
"I can pay for any fines required." Such generosity. The Emperor was proving far too reliable in this situation.
"This could mean war."
The Emperor shifted. "Not necessarily. I just want him off my lands. Kakin can do with him as they like, and if they're still the people they pretend to be, they'll knock him off his pedestal themselves." At what cost? Kakin was heavily militarized as it was. Kurapika wouldn't be surprised if this incident sparked a civil war.
"That's quite a risk you're taking."
He didn't speak, but his silence spoke for him. It wasn't his country in danger. Ryusei had its own set of problems to deal with, including the riots in the east and the missing children. And if Kakin did end up falling to pieces, then he could just sweep them up into the rest of his growing Empire. Ryusei might have a shaky reputation, but it was better than Kakin. Some might even jump ship and join them willingly.
What outcome was the Emperor looking forward to? The ruin of another nation, or the death of a serial murderer?
A part of Kurapika – the vicious part that wanted – just wanted to see Tserriednich crushed, and damn the consequences. In the end, that part won.
"I'll draft a letter," Kurapika said, pushing the comforter off himself. "Hisoka might take a while to respond."
The Emperor watched as he walked to the small table snuggled into a corner of the room. Kurapika took the candle off his nightstand and placed it on the floor beside him. With the strike of a match, the wick sputtered to life. His hands were shaking.
Swallowing a breath, Kurapika opened the single drawer attached to the table and withdrew a brush and scroll.
Was he really going to do this?
. . .
"I wonder what he'll ask of the Emperor?" Pairo said. Kurapika glanced at him, torn from his contemplations regarding the distance between his room and the royal library. He found it unfortunate that they had to walk to the other side of the palace grounds just to reach them. They'd left the main spread of buildings now, and were met with the last stretch of the Lin Garden, a field of dandelions, and several scattered establishments. Chinseon Pavilion was the most impressive of these, resting on its island, close to the dull blue gate that kept them all captives of the Crown. A tower of green and red, tipped with a gleaming slate roof, surrounded by a lake covered in algae, lily pads, and fallen leaves. It hadn't been used in nearly twenty-four years, as it was primarily made for wedding receptions and 100-day celebrations (to celebrate the first hundred days of newborn royals), and anything less was considered a dishonor.
"Kurapika?" Pairo asked, turning to him. "What is it?"
"Chinseon Pavilion."
His face softened further in understanding. "Oh."
"Do you think our dear Emperor's birth was celebrated there as well?" As would their marriage?
"I wonder what he looked like. Do you suppose they have baby pictures in the library?" Pairo quipped, taking his arm and leading him away down a path of red and grey stone. He did that a lot. Lead him, though they both knew he couldn't see. They left the Pavilion behind, heading toward the northern gates of the Palace. At some point, they narrowly avoided running into a hornet.
Kurapika snorted. "I'm certain he was adorable."
The library's outline came into view from behind a fir grove. First, the roof, then the second floor, followed by the first, and the greying stone steps. It was separated into three segments, the smallest being a hexagonal tower that formed the west wing. The entrance was the largest, guarded by five columns, brick red and white. Kurapika hurried toward it, his slippers clicking against the paved steps, Pairo's hand clasped in his. They passed the muraled green entryway with its large windows and ceilings dipped in the colors of a phoenix. It only took a right turn for Kurapika to be rendered speechless.
He'd never seen so much knowledge in a concentrated space before. Other libraries existed, of course, but collections there were often sparse. This was the Emperor's private library, and according to the rumors, he was quite fond of rare catches.
"I'm going to go out on a whim here and guess there's a lot," Pairo said. Kurapika squeezed his hand in silent thanks. He knew Pairo wasn't fond of libraries, considering his blindness kept him from partaking in any reading. Pairo only accompanied him due to Kurapika's insistence. Braille was rising in popularity, but it was a slow climb, and Kurapika doubted they'd find any braille editions in the library of an able-bodied Emperor who had a preference for antiques.
"I can have someone escort you back at any time," Kurapika let him know. Pairo shook his head. They entered the small segment between the hexagon and the entryway. There were four long shelves filled with the written word, forming walls between several large study tables.
"May I help you?" A slender woman, the librarian most likely, approached them, her orange curls bouncing along to the skip in her step. Her bright green robes looked tight on her, but she didn't seem to mind. Kurapika could relate. Mother had him wear all sorts of things, from loose shifts that hung off his shoulders to tight-fitting robes. After a while, he couldn't even bring himself to care.
Kurapika smiled, slipping into his consort facade. "Could you point us in the direction of the foreign policy section. We're looking for information on Kakin's current constitution."
"Of course, my dear," she said, gesticulating far too much. The woman proved to be more suited to the role of a tour guide than a librarian, as she guided them past the shelves and into the hexagon. The first floor contained more private studies and separate rooms than the first section. Its walls were painted cream, with gilded ceilings depicting dragons and phoenixes. From the center protruded a staircase, and descending from the floor above was Machi, her hands full. Dogging her steps was Shalnark, bright-eyed as always, holding a satchel to his hip. Kurapika sometimes wondered if he took belladonna drops for those eyes.
"Kurapika-daegam." Shalnark paused as he stepped off the last stair. Machi didn't stop, though Kurapika managed to get a glimpse of the books and scrolls in her arms. Criminal records?
"Hello, Shal," Kurapika replied. "Doing a bit of light reading?"
"You could say that," said Shalnark, hiking the satchel's band further up his shoulder.
"Shal!" Machi called.
Kurapika gave him a smile, fully aware that the librarian was still with them. They might've gotten more casual behind closed doors, but Kurapika intended to be the perfect consort in the eyes of any outsiders. "Find anything of interest?"
"No, just some boring personal stuff for the Emperor." So. He was hiding something, and from Kurapika specifically.
"Shal!"
"I'm coming." He started in Machi's direction, waving to Kurapika. "See you around, Kurapika-daegam. Don't slack off and forget about the festival tonight!"
Kurapika chuckled lightly, pulling Pairo along. He let him clasp onto the white banisters, and took a moment for him to become familiarized with the sensation of carved, painted wood. They followed the librarian upstairs, quiet. She led them to a separate room in the corner.
"All our documents on our border nations are in here. Just look for the right characters," she said, cheerfully. They entered, and Kurapika watched the woman vanish back down the stairs. Spacious and orderly, the study room held about the amount of books Kurapika suspected would be found in the one library back home. As with most of the study rooms, a single desk sat in the middle, surrounded by cushions of green and gold, like grass in the summer sunlight.
Pairo found a spot around the table, as Kurapika slid books and scrolls out of their nooks. Taking down the Prince of a foreign nation would be difficult, even if Hisoka manages to find his little slaughterhouse. Understanding the ins and outs of their criminal justice system could prove useful. The Emperor had probably scoured all the available writing on Kakin in the years he'd spent strengthening their relationship, but Kurapika felt restless sitting around in his room all day. Tserriednich was finally going to get his comeuppance, and Kurapika would make sure that nothing of his crimes slips through the cracks.
"Well, this is relaxing," Pairo said. Kurapika laughed despite himself.
. . .
It was a conflicting experience. Kurapika had read all the scrolls, the journals, the books on Kakin, and felt like he'd learned a great deal, but not quite as much as he'd like. Documents concerning the conviction of royal family members were few and far between. Now they passed the Lin Garden, feeling both defeated and enlightened. The Consort's Palace greeted them, stoic, and Kurapika knew he'd be bombarded by anxious maids as soon as he entered his room. He shrank back as they walked up the steps, passing the balustrades. He managed a quick glance to the Emperor's quarters, where his assigned staff were buzzing around as usual. His eyes settled on two figures, both clad in black. One was the Emperor, the other a young woman Kurapika couldn't place, her back turned to him. Black curls were strung upon her head, and then slid down to her neck and off her shoulder.
The Emperor noticed his glance had turned into a stare, and returned it with a fond smile. His change in expression sparked the woman's curiosity, and she turned to follow his gaze. Kurapika's mind stuttered to a stop. It wasn't until Pairo tugged on his hand that he managed to compose himself and keep walking.
They look frighteningly similar.
. End of Chapter .
1) This is probably not the best place to end but whatever.
2) At this rate, the Consort Festival is going to take like ten chapters to get through. I'm not complaining because festivals are fun but y'all will probably get annoyed with it.
3) I'm trying to get a backlog of chapters written over the summer so I don't end up forcing you through another hiatus over the school year again.
4) Most of you can probably guess that the 'woman' here is Oito Hui Guo Ruo, also known as the best mom in HxH (sorry Mito, your alcoholism makes you #2. You can also probably guess which trope I'm playing with, and possibly hate it, but I'm the creator of this universe and what I say goes.
5) Being historically accurate is hard, I'm never gonna laugh at another historical YA book again.
