"Back in my… homeland, I got in trouble a lot," Gon said, sitting on the edge of Killua's four poster bed. He paused, "Do you have enough pillows?"

Killua shifted against the mass of pillows separating his back from the headboard and glowered at Gon. "I'm fine, Gon. Continue your story."

"I snuck out often," Gon said, tapping his fingers together. "My aunt tried to keep me inside, but I liked the forest better. I would lose track of time and only realize how far I'd gone when dusk came. Everyone scolded me."

"What does this have to do with me?"

Turning sharply to Killua, Gon pursed his lips. "I'm getting there. Be patient," he said. "Anyway, there was one day that I managed to reach a mountain range that was behind my… my town. My aunt had warned me not to go there—but that just made me want to go even more." He snickered at this, and Killua felt a tender calmness ease him back against the pillows, his cheeks warm.

He watched Gon as the smile faded to a neutral expression. A few moments of silence passed in which Gon stared at the tapestry hung on the wall opposite the window, an unreadable expression stiffening his face. Killua nudged him with his knee from beneath the blankets, and Gon jumped. "And? What happened in the mountains?" Killua asked wryly, grinning.

With a bright smile, Gon spread the fingers of his right hand atop the comforter and stared at Killua. "I walked into a foxbear's territory," he whispered. "Missed the claw marks on the trees and walked right in. There were cubs. I was young."

"And stupid," Killua added, eyes wide. "Didn't anyone teach you better?"

A dullness crept across Gon's gaze, and he shook it away, though not before Killua noticed. "The mountains were off limits," he said. "That was one of many reasons why. My father— No one ever thought it necessary to tell me explicitly why the forest was dangerous. I had to learn the hard way."

This somber side of Gon was new to Killua. As much as he appreciated Gon's chipper attitude and reassuring smile, Killua couldn't help but be fascinated. He leaned forward, ignoring the twinge of pain that accompanied the motion. "What happened next?"

"I was trapped," Gon said. "I'm not sure how it happened, but I remember I was caught between the foxbear and a rockface. I wasn't very old, or strong, or brave… And I froze up. The foxbear got me here." He brought a hand to his chest, barely brushing against the fabric. "I'd probably be dead if Kite hadn't followed me."

"Kite?"

Gon grew stiff, then forced himself to relax, turning a bright smile to Killua. "An old family friend. He trained overseas and was a renowned swordsman. He protected me at times."

"Hmm…" Killua mused, staring up at the ceiling. "You had a skilled guardian. I always assumed you grew up poor."

"I did," Gon answered a little too quickly. He recovered with a cough. "My family just had some connections. I was lucky."

Though Killua wasn't entirely convinced, he decided it wasn't a matter worth pursuing at the time. "So you got yourself injured because you were ignorant," Killua surmised. Prodding Gon's upper arm with his index finger, he pouted. "It's not a bad story, but what's it got to do with me? My brother hit me in the head with a wooden sword; that wasn't my fault."

"Yes, it was," Gon snapped. Killua sat back against the pillows in shock as Gon's hands fluttered to cover his mouth. "I'm so sorry—"

"No," Killua said indulgently. "Go on. Please."

Gon inhaled, then positioned himself so that he was kneeling fully on the mattress facing Killua. "You need to be more aware of yourself," he said.

"Aware of myself?"

Nodding, Gon continued. "It isn't so much your injury that upset me, Killua," he said. "You've been acting strange all day. If you'd been more cautious, you wouldn't have gotten hurt."

"Is that all?"

"No," Gon said, gentler now. He covered Killua's closest hand with both of his own. "Take better care of yourself, Killua. You're important—to this kingdom and to me."

At this, Killua felt a bitter taste arise in the back of his throat, and he turned away, gritting his teeth. "I don't care about the kingdom," he spat.

"Killua…"

"I never asked to be king!" The outburst nearly sent Gon backward, but he caught himself with both hands behind him. Killua's chest heaved. "I don't want to wage wars and execute traitors and tax peasants. That's not the kind of person I want to be."

Gon inched closer, wary as though approaching a wild animal. "You don't have to be like your father, Killua," he said soothingly. "You'll make a wonderful king."

A sharp laugh cut through Killua's parted lips as he straightened, meeting Gon's eyes. Gon was startled to see how subdued his friend seemed. When Killua had eased back into the pillows, he spoke in a low voice. "Do you know why my father named me the rightful heir?" Gon opened his mouth to answer, but Killua continued. "I've got older siblings who are capable leaders, powerful warriors, skilled deceivers. But they weren't considered. Do you know why?"

Silence seeped into the space between them as Gon steadied himself, frightened by the shift in Killua's tone. "I don't."

"No, you wouldn't," Killua said. "You've only been here for a year. I must have forgotten that."

Gon's breath lingered in his throat before he could convince himself to speak. "Killua, what are you—"

"Illumi's killed civilians, innocent people, for fun," Killua said, silencing Gon. "He was found guilty. Of course, the judge works for us, so we've kept it quiet, but there's always a chance the information could be leaked. My father wants the public to fear us, but not like that. Fear our tactics, our cunning methods, and our wars. Not our crimes. Illumi was eliminated from the throne—though it's common knowledge he never wanted it. He hates being in the public eye. He would have made a great assassin.

"Milluki would have taken the crown even if he'd had to wrench it from our father's skull," Killua went on, the words pouring forth unhindered, "but he was caught embezzling the people's tax money. He's confined to his room. I haven't seen him in years."

"What about the others?" Gon blurted.

Killua turned his dull eyes on Gon and smiled, though the expression was cold and cruel. "Mother sold Kalluto to a brothel. You won't hear that in the town market. She didn't think he was strong enough to be a candidate for the crown, so she got rid of him. And they've dungeoned Alluka up in the catacombs. They're afraid of her. Father thinks she's cursed." He took a moment to swallow. Gon seized the opportunity to take Killua's hand in his, Killua seemed to regain some of his previous warmth. "I'm all that's left. They'll mold me into the leader they want me to be, and I don't have a choice anymore."

"You aren't like them," Gon insisted. "You'll find a way. You're kinder, gentler, more sincere. You've got a way better sense of humor than any of them— Have you ever even seen King Silva laugh? I don't think so." Despite himself, Killua couldn't help but chuckle. He squeezed Gon's hand, regaining more of himself as he listened. "You are more than your family, Killua. You will make a great king."

Before Killua could respond, Gon clasped his hands together and leapt off the bed, retrieving the envelope and salve from the herbalist.

"Now," Gon said, "I've got to make sure you take care of yourself. So we'll replace your bandages every few hours, and apply the salve every hour until you go to sleep for the night." He looked up at Killua from the instructions and beamed. "That doesn't seem too hard, does it?"

Killua failed to respond immediately. He found himself marveling at the brightness of Gon's eyes and the genuine nature of his smile. How, he wondered, could this world produce such a wonderful, free-spirited creature?

"Killua?"

"Ah, yes!" Cheeks flushing, Killua raised a hand to his throat, embarrassed by the squeakiness of his voice.

Gon stifled a giggle and coughed to cover it up. He reached for Killua's forehead and furrowed his brows. "You're a little feverish," Gon said, tapping a finger to his lips. "I'll get you some cool water."

"That's not necessary," Killua tried to protest.

"I'm responsible for your well-being tonight," Gon said. "I'll take care of you."

As Gon smirked and headed for the small basin in the corner of the room, a knock sounded from the door. Gon paused, looking back at Killua for directions.

"Ask who it is," Killua whispered. Gon nodded, then crept closer to the doors.

"W-who—"

"Canary, reporting," a voice from the hallway resounded, drowning out Gon's feeble attempt to communicate. "I've brought Killua his dinner, as instructed. Shall I leave it in the hallway or bring it in?"

Wide-eyed, Gon shrugged in Killua's direction, prompting a sputtering laugh. Motioning for him to open the door, Killua struggled to compose himself.

Canary entered the room bearing a silver platter. Gon closed the door behind her, keeping his back against the wall; they'd entered the castle around the same time, and Gon knew firsthand how able she was in a fight. He had passed the physical exam, certainly, but Canary had broken bones to pass and hadn't even broken a sweat.

Her posture was so rigid, she could have been mistaken for one of the king's personal guards—had she not been so diminutive in stature. Killua often thought that his father had made a dire mistake in hiring her as a simple servant when her physical abilities ranked above even the most capable soldier in the army.

She met Killua's eyes directly and bowed her head. "Where would you like your dinner, sir?"

"You don't have to be so formal, Canary," Killua said. "We're friends."

"I am your servant," she said stiffly, "nothing more."

With a heavy sigh, Killua said, "Just put the tray on the table by the window. I'll eat later."

After doing so, Canary stood facing Killua in silence. Gon could feel the sweat trickling down his face but resisted the urge to wipe it away. Such a sudden movement would surely draw Canary's eyes to him, and while he had done nothing wrong, her attention—and possible fury—were not things he desired to monopolize.

"Canary," Killua said. She raised her chin in recognition. "Is there anything else you needed?"

"Yes," she said. Behind her back, she clenched her fists, the fabric of her shirt bunching slightly at the shoulders. The display of discomfort was almost imperceptible, but both Gon and Killua noticed it. Finally, she spoke. "Your father wishes to speak with you when you are finished with your meal."

"Is he willing to speak with me tomorrow?"

"He said he would be in the east wing by the fireplace," she said. "Waiting for you."

"That's a no, then," Killua said. He turned to Gon and motioned him closer. "I suppose I have no choice in the matter."

Canary bowed her head. "I apologize for disturbing your rest, my lord," she said.

Killua dismissed her apology. "You've done nothing wrong. Please go inform my father that I'll be with him shortly. But I would like to enjoy my dinner and the company of a friend first."

Bowing once more, she left like in silence. Gon extended a hand to Killua and helped him rise. They shared a look of mutual reassurance, which led, only naturally, to sympathetic smiles.

"You'd better hurry," Gon said. "King Silva doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"He'll have to be patient," Killua answered, peering out the window. "The stars are bright tonight, don't you think?"

"They're lovely."

Smiling, Killua gestured to one of the chairs at the table. "Care to join me?"

Nodding curtly, Gon grinned. "Oh, certainly. If you insist."