Chapter Text
Tonight, the Moon is but a sliver of herself.
Keiji gazes up at the crescent slip of light, thoughts wandering in search of answers. On nights like these, she sheds no light to wayfinders, sooth seekers, or the prince startled from his dreams.
Still, the Asio Palace gardens have always been his refuge. He’s content to stand alone, in the dark, warm pea stones of the garden walkway beneath his bare feet. Leaves whisper in the evening breeze, and the shift of air lifts the sweet, floral aroma of lavender to his nose. Perhaps he’s only so at ease because he knows he won’t be lonely for long.
“Highness,” a voice rasps, still sticky with sleep. “I said good night to you hours ago.”
“I woke up,” is Keiji’s non-answer. Intentional ambiguity might frustrate anyone else, but Koutarou knows his habits too well to be fazed. Fifteen years of constant companionship will do that.
When most parents would gift their school-aged boy a dog, Keiji’s parents decided to buy for their son a fighter from the coliseum to become his personal guard. Little did they anticipate the boy choosing a dirty, skinny slave boy his own age instead of a decorated gladiator.
They’ve both grown up a lot since then, but the feeling that first drew Keiji to his guardian has only become stronger. It’s like an invisible length of rope keeps them connected at all times. Most of the time Keiji thinks he’s the only one who feels it, but how else can he explain Koutarou coming to find him in the middle of the night when they sleep in separate buildings?
“Where are your shoes?” Koutarou asks, not bothering with surprise. Keiji is prone to flights of fancy—perhaps one of the reasons the king and queen make sure his designated guard is always nearby.
“I didn’t think to bring them,” Keiji says, truthfully. He didn’t think to bring them. He didn’t think to bring anything except the thin, linen chemise he wore to sleep. The dress is made with summer months in mind. Thin straps leave his neck and shoulders bare, as well as his legs below mid-thigh. It’s indecent for an omega—of royal blood no less—to be outside in such a state.
Koutarou isn’t much better off. His sleep shirt is stuffed into his unlaced pants, but he has shoes.
“You should have woken me if you were going for a walk.” Koutarou leans down to muffle his discontented muttering in Keiji’s bedhead.
The faintest of wry grins turns the corner of Keiji’s mouth. “I should not have.”
“Why are you out here, anyway?”
“A dream I had.” Keiji’s brow furrows, losing his earlier playfulness. “I awoke suddenly with the feeling I saw something important, but the memory of it escapes me…”
“Did she remind you?” Koutarou’s breath is warm, and tickles the back of his ear.
Keiji shakes his head. It is said the Mother’s domains are in wisdom and guidance, but he would make a strong case that mystery is also among her aspects.
“You’re shivering.” The guard reaches an arm across Keiji’s shoulders, and tugs the prince against his side.
Keiji hadn’t felt the chill, lost in thought as he was, but the alpha’s body heat is a distraction he’s all too eager to bask in. He leans against his guard’s chest, and presses his pale, frigid cheek against Koutarou’s. The single arm around him becomes two that encircle his waist and hold him.
“Should we get you inside?” Koutarou asks, and turns his head so their foreheads are together instead, and he can look at the prince to remind him, “If you catch cold, I’ll be in trouble.”
Even in the dark, Keiji can make out the shine of gold in Koutarou’s eyes. He reaches up to hold his guard’s face with fine boned fingers, tracing his jaw and the arch of his cheekbones.
“Highness?” Koutarou whispers.
“I don’t know what of, but my dream was a warning. Swear you’ll stay at my side. I know I’ll need you.” There is an almost imperceptible plea in Keiji’s voice, even though he knows already what Koutarou’s answer will be.
“I would never be anywhere else. I am yours until the day I die.”
The prince’s heart begins to race. Those words aren’t new. Koutarou took an oath to serve and protect the prince when they were both children. The way they’ve grown together, the words have taken on another meaning. Keiji knows the King and Queen must never hear the way Koutarou now pronounces them as vows.
But there isn’t a witness to their midnight exchange in the garden, so he seals the promise by softly pressing his lips to Koutarou’s.
This isn’t their first kiss, but the last one was so long ago it’s almost like starting new. He slides his fingers through Koutarou’s hair and rests a palm on his nape, wordlessly asking for just a minute more. They might not find another moment alone for months.
Koutarou seldom refuses him any request, least of all now. The alpha’s broad, warm palms grip Keiji’s waist and pull their bodies flush together. He relishes in the hint of alpha pheromone sticking to his skin. His own scent will linger on Koutarou’s clothes at least until morning.
“You would be my first choice.” Keiji’s words are little more than gasps against Koutarou’s lips. “If I could choose. It’d be you.”
The alpha responds with a groan in the back of his throat. Urgently, he grabs at the backs of Keiji’s bare thighs and hoists him up as if he isn’t a full grown man. Legs wrapped around Koutarou’s waist, arms around his neck, the prince holds on tight.
Before he realizes where Koutarou is taking them, he’s gently lowered onto a lush patch of lawn, away from the main garden path. Sweet smelling grass pillows Keiji’s head as the alpha kneels over him and buries his face in the crook of his shoulder. He doesn’t hesitate to angle his head, baring his neck.
“Please don’t tease me so much,” Koutarou whispers with heat against his skin.
“I’m not teasing.” All it would take is a bite. Keiji shivers at the thought.
“Keiji,” Koutarou groans, the sound dissolving into the trail he kisses down the prince’s neck.
“We could keep it a secret…” Keiji tries to voice his treacherous yearning, but lips against the column of his throat keep stealing his breath away. “We’d—I’d find a way…” He loses his voice to a moan, hastily smothered beneath his palm.
“The king would have my head,” Koutarou says in a huff, barely sparing a second to lift his lips away from the omega’s fair skin.
“We’ll run—go somewhere I can be yours, and only yours.” It’s all nonsense, but Keiji can’t keep himself from saying it. Pleasure shivers down his spine, with tender love bites. There’s a gentle scrape of teeth across the skin above his scent gland and the omega’s head spins with a thrill.
“Koutarou,” he all but whimpers, “please?”
Abruptly, Koutarou pulls away like he’s been burned. He curses under his breath and stabs a hand through his hair. “Shit, Highness—I’m so sorry.”
Kiss-dazed, Keiji props himself up on his elbows. He blinks a few times, trying to put together what’s made his guard so upset. “What is it?”
“My rut is starting.” He sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. “That’s why—I’m getting so carried away.” Sure enough, he can smell the telltale shift in Koutarou’s scent. Bright notes of citrus darken into musk and spice.
A pit forms in Keiji’s stomach, heavy, wrought with guilt as he realizes the cause behind the sudden loss of his good sense. The thick, sweetened pheromones that come with Koutarou’s rut are potent. Seldom does Keiji accidentally catch a whiff. The scent leaves him giddy, worse than a strong cup of wine. The last time it happened, it took him days to sober up.
“Relax, it’s fine…I’m not helping any.” The prince tries to sound detached and not at all driven by an instinctual need to get closer as he shifts onto his knees. It’s upsetting his inner omega, knowing they don’t have long to be together. The king and queen are strict (rightly so, if Keiji’s current position is any indication) about keeping the omega prince apart from his guard during the peaks of their respective cycles.
“I should go before I do something…” Koutarou begins to stand, until the prince catches his hand, and stubbornly pulls him close once more.
“You would never,” Keiji reassures him, squeezing their twined fingers. It’s important that if this is the last time he sees Koutarou for the next week, that they part on good terms.
“You have too much faith in me,” he mumbles, humbly.
“I could never.” Keiji grins.
“Clever, your Highness.” Koutarou smiles too, despite the sarcasm.
“Then…” Keiji sighs, letting his eyes fall closed. Now isn’t the time, as badly as he might wish it. Not needing sight to find him, he tilts his chin up to press one final kiss to Koutarou’s lips. “The moment it’s over, come back to me.”
“Always,” Koutarou vows. “I’m yours.”
Prince Akaashi Keiji, first and only heir to Fukurodani’s crown, has always known—perhaps before even knowing his own name—that he is not destined for greatness.
It doesn’t matter how he’s matured into adulthood. His role as a political pawn has long been decided. The titles of glory, kingship, and war will never precede him. No matter how wise he may be, no matter how many talents he has cultivated, there is ultimately one thing an omega can never do alone—carry on a dynasty.
An alpha will always be needed for an omega to produce an heir, and there has not been, nor will there ever be, a successful union where an omega rules over an alpha partner. Keiji knows this as well as he knows arithmetic and language and the names of every star in the sky.
Something else he knows is that change is integral to life, and since life belongs to the living— he who lives must be prepared for change. One such change is immediately underway.
The prince sits beside his mother in the throne room. If he were an alpha, he would stand, but an omega’s constitution is not considered reliable when sessions in court may last hours upon hours.
His dress resembles his mother’s as well—though far more conservative, as is customary for chaste, unwed omegas of status.
They both wear rich drapes of fabric, traditional stolas belted at the waist. The queen’s hair is braided and woven with adornments, and her neckline is mostly left uncovered. The bond mark on her neck is visible, so there’s no question about her status as the king’s mate.
Keiji—by necessity—is dressed with both form and function in mind. Because hair traps scent, his dark curls are wrapped in a scarf that ties at his nape. A thick, heavy collar guards his unmarked neck, and more bands of silver (utilized for its scent dampening properties) conceal the glands on his wrists.
Furthermore, the prince is draped in a mantle of wool, dyed in rich indigo, and scented with rosemary and basil to cover up his telltale omega sweetness. He usually finds it irritating, but now Keiji is thankful for the perfumed fabric. It hides his nervous sweat and apprehension from his mother’s keen senses.
An audience of the rich and powerful of the city of Ancestris have gathered at the King and Queen’s behest. They do so regularly, whenever there are announcements or great news to be disseminated. Most attendees are statesmen, officials, representatives of the church, and the wealthy heads of house that consider the royal court a second home. However, there are many more people packed in than usual, befitting the magnitude of what the queen is to announce—Keiji’s engagement.
It isn’t the prospect of being wed that worries him—not immediately, at least. The reason the prince hasn’t slept properly in a week is largely due to not knowing who it is he’ll be bound to for the rest of his life.
At least Keiji has some idea what the announcement will be. He steals a glance at Koutarou, back from his rut leave a day earlier than expected. His personal guard is steadfast, focused, and completely unaware.
Keiji’s stomach lurches with nerves. His toes dangle at the edge of the precipice of the unknown, and the forces of change push harder at his back.
“Her Majesty, Queen Chizue will address the court!” cries the herald, bringing silence over the hall.
A hush falls across the throne room so swiftly that the swish of her woolen skirts and the clinking of her jewelry are audible with her movements. Usually it is the king’s place to say the opening words of any ceremony, except in very specific instances.
Marriage is the mother’s domain.
“People of Ancestris, we come together now as we always have in the year’s longest days to celebrate the kingdom’s prosperity.” The queen is smiling widely as she speaks. Her age shows in the fine lines of her face and the silver tones of her hair, but there is a timelessness to her beauty. It’s obvious who Keiji takes after—most of his delicate, omegan features mirror hers in a manner nearly identical.
“However, this year’s solstice festival will be an even more joyous occasion. The beginning of the festival will be marked by the formalization of an allyship with The Free City of Jozenji in the form of unification of House Akaashi and House Anabara. Prince Keiji will be married to Lord Terushima Yuuji, heir to Anabara Keep,” she announces, finally, smiling widely, hands clasped in front of her as if to contain her overflowing joy. The queen doesn’t look away from her court to verify Keiji’s compliance. He forces himself to appear pleased anyway—it’s not what he expected, but it’s far from what he feared.
A thrill of excited energy zips through the gathered nobles. Several members of the court begin to cheer and applaud. Talks between Fukurodani and Jozenji have been in the works for nearly as long as Keiji has been alive.
The Jozenji city state is an economic powerhouse, despite lacking the structure of a traditional central power. Instead of a monarch, they are jointly governed by several powerful families, each reigning over a sector of the truly massive megacity. A powerful ally to have in uncertain times, especially when war knocks at the doors of Fukurodani’s neighbors.
The king lifts a palm where he sits, settling the court’s celebration. The queen has some more to say about the solstice celebrations, but Keiji doesn't listen, too preoccupied with managing his own emotions.
He endures—the queen has often told him it is an omega’s lot in life to endure—and as soon as the assembly is dismissed, Keiji bolts for the door before he’s caught in an endless procession of congratulations he won’t be able to stomach.
He doesn’t make it but a few strides from the throne room before the queen catches him. There is warmth in her eyes, gentle and concerned, but she still smiles as she leads her son by the arm to a side corridor where they are less likely to be observed by prying eyes.
“Mother—”
“My sweet son,” she says with the utmost affection, layered on thick to soothe the wild look that no doubt is in his eyes. “I apologize that this news caught you unaware. If it were possible, I would have told you sooner.”
“My wedding is in a week! You couldn’t have told me any later!” Keiji’s voice is louder than he means it to be. His emotions are spiraling out of control. The queen’s grip around his wrists tightens ever so slightly, as if she means to help him rein them in.
“Your father and I… we know how smart you are. Keiji, you know how you get when you’re worried about something,” she explains in a careful, diplomatic tone.
“I haven’t had an episode in years,” he contradicts, frowning. There’s a flash of something like pity in the queen’s eyes and Keiji knows immediately he jumped to the wrong conclusion. This time it’s Keiji who leverages his mother’s grip to conceal the both of them in the shadow of the drapes along the corridor wall. He lowers his voice, bending closer to her.
“You think I’d try to sabotage your plans?”
“No, nothing like that.” She continues to smile, bittersweet. “We know you prefer Koutarou. It was our mistake not to separate you two sooner.”
“What does Koutar—”
“But we’re sure you’ll like Lord Terushima just as well! He’s an alpha too, strong, known for being very capable and charming. It’ll take no time at all for you to become acquainted. It will be like you and Koutarou never parted.”
“Why would you—but Koutarou will be coming with me.” Keiji’s frustration tapers off into a fearful whisper. “What use would you have for him?”
“Oh, little moon,” the queen holds his cheek and carefully tucks an escaped curl back into place beneath his wrap. “After you’re mated, it would be cruel to force him to continue to stand by you. It will be much easier for Koutarou to stay here. We like him, darling, he’s a fine guardsman. He might even be promoted to captain. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“What?” He understands perfectly, but the thought of life without Koutarou is unimaginable.
“That’s how alphas are. If you won’t decide what to do with him, your husband will, I’m sure.”
“I don’t—I’ll talk to Lord Terushima, convince him…” he mumbles uselessly, fighting the sting in his eyes.
“No, Keiji. You must not.” The queen is suddenly firm, brow lowered, lips in a tight line. “Your husband must have no reason to suspect you will be unfaithful. Do you understand me?”
“I would never—I—yes, mother,” he whispers, hoarse.
“Good. You still have a few days until Yuuji arrives. Plenty of time to say your goodbyes. That will be that. Do you understand?” She waits for Keiji to nod again, then gives his arm a light tug so that Keiji will bend low enough for his mother to kiss his forehead. “Go relax, little moon. I won’t have you stressed before your special day.”
The queen departs with one last squeeze and a smile that Keiji can’t bring himself to return.
The cathedral is technically part of the palace, connected by a breezeway and surrounded by the palace gardens. The sanctuary is open at almost all hours, and the high priest sometimes sleeps in the sacristy so that he might console the weary faithful in the wee hours.
Keiji already knows what the priest will say to comfort him, but duty is a wretched thing, so he climbs the tower instead.
At the tower’s highest point, there is a small, forgotten attic. Once used to stow away ceremonial supplies, the space has been relegated to the dust of the old religion. It’s here that Keiji finds himself when the weight of his princely responsibilities becomes too much to bear. He has never considered himself devout, but there is some comfort he can take in the faiths.
It isn’t long before a pair of footsteps echo up the stone steps. Only one other person knows to visit this hiding place.
“Your Highness?” Koutarou calls from the door at the stairs.
“What is it?” The prince answers wearily and lifts his head.
“With respect, it’s my job to know where you are.” The guard replies casually, as if this is the time for their usual banter.
Keiji sighs, and rests his cheek on top of his arms again, closing his eyes.
“Would you rather be alone?” Koutarou asks quietly, finally recognizing the prince’s somber mood. When Keiji shakes his head, the guard settles beside him, like they have always done since they were children.
“I knew it was coming eventually…but I had no idea it was going to be so soon.”
“I could tell,” Koutarou says with a murmur of laughter. “At least I’ve heard your husband-to-be is good-hearted, even if he has a reputation for being—um—excitable? Did I say it right?”
“Yes, that is one way to put it.” Keiji allows a fond smile to curve his lips as he wonders what Koutarou has been reading lately. Tentatively, he reaches out to lay his hand across Koutarou’s open, waiting palm. All things considered, he’s taking the news better than Keiji himself. For once, he doubts the queen’s judgment—perhaps omegas are the most territorial of the sexes, instead of their counterparts.
“Your Highness?”
“Yes?”
“No—nevermind. It’s not my place to ask.”
“I’m sure it is,” Keiji prompts.
“It’s just—when you are married. You’ll be going to Jozenji, won’t you?”
“Most likely.” Keiji nods. The omega will be little use to his husband in bearing children if he’s half the continent away.
“And…” Koutarou’s brows knit together as he chooses his words carefully. “Would I come too?”
“Would you want that, Koutarou?”
“Wherever you are, I should be… Speaking honestly, your Highness, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Koutarou looks to where their fingers are interlocked. Outwardly, he’s calm, but Keiji can sense the undercurrent of his nerves.
“If you stay here, you could do anything, Koutarou. Become anything. You could make a life in Fukurodani as a free man, be promoted to castle guard, earn a proper rank, buy land, and begin a family with someone you chose to love.”
“I could,” he acknowledges, but hesitates, fingers squeezing around Keiji’s. “I would still choose you, if you’ll have me.”
“What if I love my husband?” Keiji pushes, a slight crease in his brow. “Could you bear to stand by if I no longer hold you in such…high regard?”
“I hope you do,” Koutarou says with overwhelming earnesty. “I wish for you to find so much happiness in your marriage that your heart overflows with it.”
Keiji’s eyes go wide. Of all Koutarou’s answers, it’s both the one he least expected, and in retrospect, the only one he should have expected. He’s seen the goodness of Koutarou’s heart too many times to count. Silent, bitter tears begin to roll down his cheeks regardless.
“Are you sure?” the prince asks, a rasp in his throat, despite already knowing his faithful guardian means what he says. He’s always had an extra sense—intuition, his mother calls it—to see through lies and half-truths. He never needs it with Koutarou, who always speaks truthfully.
“It has always been my place to serve your Highness. I swore an oath to the king and queen, remember? I will spend my every breath protecting Fukurodani’s prince, gods willing, until my death.” Koutarou’s expression hasn’t changed, as if the freedom to live life as he chooses is no more valuable to him than a handful of sand.
“That’s ridiculous,” Keiji argues heatlessly. He is all at once hopelessly endeared and utterly miserable, like watching cracks in a pane of glass spider web in all directions, knowing the damage can’t be undone, knowing the worst is yet to come. At times like this, he is thankful that the preternatural awareness he has for others goes only one way. “You were a child. No one can hold a child to a life-long oath.”
“I hold it to myself,” Koutarou replies stubbornly. Anyone else would find such staunch devotion inspiring, but the prince feels something jagged pressed against his heart, so he says the worst thing he can imagine.
“I wish you were shrewd instead of kind,” the prince admits as he slumps to rest his head on his guard’s shoulder.
“You’re the brains, your Highness,” Koutarou says with a soft laugh.
“I’ll figure something out,” Keiji whispers, exhausted.
“You will. I trust you,” Koutarou assures, and they lapse into silence for a time. It’s peaceful, hidden away with the person he’s always considered his other half. Keiji wonders if it would really be so bad to be trapped in this tower forever.
“Do you remember Jozenji? We were probably… thirteen the last time we traveled that far,” the prince muses.
Outside the cathedral, the skies are turning pink and orange. They don’t have long before Keiji is expected to appear at the dinner table.
“I remember the water. It was so clear and blue—and fresh fruit from the pier.” Koutarou adds, “You were sun sick for a few days, so Captain Sawamura took me to train on the sand.”
“I never knew that,” Keiji admits. It’s true, he spent too many hours on the beach the first day of their vacation. For almost a week, he’d been bed bound with burns, fevers, and headaches.
“He said I would need to master combat in all kinds of terrain.” Koutarou’s face is out of sight, but Keiji can hear him smiling.
“I miss him—and that funny beastmaster he snuck in from time to time.”
“Suga,” Koutarou offers helpfully.
“Hm.” Keiji nods. “Perhaps they’ll visit Jozenji when the war is over.”
“Do you really think they would?”
“Karasuno has historically been friendly with the Free City—until that little disagreement that I seem to remember my fiance was involved in.”
“That will be your next project, repairing diplomatic ties between the Free City and whatever's left of Karasuno.”
“Perhaps,” Keiji murmurs, unconvinced. “It sounds like a big job.”
But Koutarou remains faithful, as always. “You’ll make it look easy.”