Chapter Text
"Are you planning on being surly for the entirety of the negotiations?" came the all too familiar voice.
Kiyoomi slouched even further than usual and stared forlornly at the choppy ocean waves that hid his country from view. "Go away, Motoya."
"You know I can't." The energetic man stepped next to his pouting cousin, nudging him with an elbow. "It's your first trip abroad! Your first real outing from the castle even! Why aren't you more excited?"
True and true, but still. "It's only so that my parents can pawn me off to some backwater savages. Hardly a reason to get excited about leaving the castle."
Motoya pinched his elbow in annoyance. "Inarizaki has been around for a couple of generations! And they're hardly savages."
"Then why don't you marry one of those princes?!" Kiyoomi snapped, his anxiety welling up uncontrollably. "They're going to have a filthy castle, in the middle of filthy fields, and I'm going to get sick! They still practice sacrificial rituals to gods, for fucks sake!"
Stubby eyebrows pinched in sympathy, and Motoya moved his hand to slowly rub at his cousin's back. "Come on now, you know that your parents wouldn't put you in this situation if they thought it would be awful for you.”
Although he was loathe to admit it, Kiyoomi knew that Motoya was right. Itachiyama needed another ally before the Kamomedai envoy began trade negotiations. Inarizaki was a tempting solution for this, being a nation known for their war prowess and also the hunger to improve their standings with the other nations of their continent. They weren’t an established monarchy by any means, but they had a knack for making other kingdoms nervous and that was worth exploiting.
"It won't be a calling card for very long if I die of sepsis ," Kiyoomi grumbled, and Motoya laughed.
"Seriously, my lord, you're being paranoid. Don't you think your mother would have made cleanliness demands? She's almost more neurotic than you."
"Ha ha. Ass."
"I'm not being funny, you thick-headed jerk.” Motoya sighed as he leaned away from the pier’s railing and glanced farther over the waves. “She's been fretting over you since the womb, and she's not about to risk your well-being just because of some trade negotiations.” Servants were still unloading the royal ship, and the cousins watched on absent-mindedly. “You know that she's not afraid to whip this castle into shape for your comfort. C'mon, you know she will."
Kiyoomi huffed, half in annoyance and half in defeat. "She would...but I'm not a baby that needs to be coddled! I can make my own demands! Especially if I choose one of those oafs. I still can choose, right? It's not demanded yet, right?"
Motoya sighed. "Of course it's not demanded. Your parents won't insist on this."
They never had so far, even though he was already of age to be married and had no other prospects lined up; he'd even refused to have portraits made to be sent to others for negotiations. It had frustrated his father, who was a little less sheltering of his youngest child, but it hadn't been enough to make the man push him. Kiyoomi had four older siblings that his father was more apt to concern himself with. Since the King was getting on in years, the line of succession was growing more important, especially with such competitive siblings and cousins. Being the youngest of them all, and the furthest removed from Itachiyama's throne out of all his siblings, Kiyoomi hadn’t thought there would have been any real reason for him to marry, but then...
"They'll arrange another marriage if this one doesn't pan out, Motoya," he muttered.
A light eyebrow went up in surprise. "What? Why would they do that?"
"Let's go to the castle," Kiyoomi deflected. "I don't want to just sit around here until their ship arrives." Taking separate galley ships had been a safety precaution, but now it was more than a little inconvenient.
Motoya nodded slowly. "Sure. We can do a little snooping around 'til they arrive."
They were wearing Itachiyama branded tunics, so it would be easy for others to know they were with the royal party. Not wearing royal insignia was a precaution as they made the short trip from the port to the castle, ensuring that he wouldn't be singled out as a target while separated from the rest of the party. There were already rumors floating around about Karasuno and even Nekoma sending small bands of assassins across the border, so removing a target from his back had been essential. No official portraits floating around helped to hide his identity, but putting a target on his chest with an insignia would wait until he was safe with his parents.
"Lead the way, Motoya. You're the one who studied the damn maps of this place."
Those chestnut eyes studied him for a moment. Komori Motoya was no fool; he'd been placed in proximity to the youngest Sakusa because of his quick wits and his uncanny ability to deal with Kiyoomi's sour attitudes. He had the ability to not only push him, but also to know when to back off and let Kiyoomi sort things out himself.
"Your wish is my command, you prickly bastard."
Kiyoomi snorted in amusement, the tiniest smile in the world curled on the edges of his lips.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," Kiyoomi muttered anxiously as he stumbled down the narrow cliff-side trail.
His knee twinged a bit from jumping off the panicked horse and landing funny, but he was too focused on getting back to Miya to stop and think about it. Was the prince actually dead?! Fear gripped the young Sakusa by the throat. He could still see the terror on Miya’s face as the horse had stumbled backwards off the lip of the cliff. Was there any possible way to survive a fall from this height? What if the horse had rolled over on top of him as they went down? He'd be crushed, but might be alive enough to need help.
What was Kiyoomi supposed to do? Storm clouds were blowing in at an alarming rate, his horse had run off, and there were surely already people looking for him. This was an utter disaster!
And it's all my fault, he thought miserably as he turned the sharp corner and saw the damaged bramble and scuffed dirt that marked where he assumed the Miya prince had fallen.
He shouldn't have allowed himself to be egged on, especially due to a misunderstanding. That disgusting, idiot prince had mistaken him for a servant. A servant! And he had been so stunned that he hadn’t corrected the man. Then he had been dragged out to the middle of nowhere, spoken poorly of, and manhandled!
And yet it had still been his own overreaction that had spooked the beasts.
Kiyoomi fell to his knees on the edge of the cliff and shakily looked over the lip. "M-Miya!" he yelled down. "My lord!"
At first, he didn't see anything, and he felt his heart go faint. A fat drop of rainwater struck him on the nose, and he wiped at his eyes angrily before crawling like some damn animal to the side for a different view of the cliff side. This time, he caught sight of a body and felt hope leap in his chest. It was the prince, but he was unmoving as he hung precariously via a tangle of vegetation.
A closer look revealed that the prince was breathing, which was a relief, but he was still in danger. Kiyoomi tried to crawl down the edge, but the soil gave out easily under his weight and he immediately backed up. Raindrops began to patter down unevenly as the foreign prince scrambled up to his feet and started to search the area for something that he could throw down to Miya. The search was fruitless, and in a few minutes he was back to the edge of the cliff and hoping that maybe he could awaken Miya and get some help in pulling him up.
The young royal hadn't moved at all, and Kiyoomi began to worry that something was seriously wrong. There were such things as head injuries that people didn't wake up from, and if that was the case, he would need to try to do something else to pull Miya up. Rain was falling in sheets and soaking them through, and a new fear was worming into Kiyoomi's brain: they were going to catch a cold or worse by being out here.
"My lord!" he began shouting desperately. "Please, you need to wake up! Prince Miya!"
The man's face was considerably paler than it had been while they rode, when frustration had painted his handsome features. What reason did the prince have to be so angry? Were the twins also not eager to proceed with the engagement negotiations? Were they being coerced by politically savvy parents? Or were the rumors about them being so wild, they were unfit for marriage true? The prince he saw in the short while they had ridden together had been brash, loud, and downright annoying, but...he hadn’t been some witless fool. There’d been a spark of intelligence as he had glared across the landscape.
Up until this moment Kiyoomi hadn't honestly thought about this whole arrangement from the other party's perspective, but now, as he shouted and pleaded for the prince to wake up, Kiyoomi wondered: what did Prince Miya think of him and his family? What did he hope to gain or fear to lose? What had been weighing so heavily on his mind that it made him snap and snarl like a cornered animal?
"Please, I'm begging you to wake up, my lord!" He crawled down a little ways from the path, trying not to let fear of the ground completely giving way underneath him stop him. "You need to get up, Prince Miya!"
He didn't even know this man's given name. How could the prince die with only a stranger in his presence? This was either Atsumu or Osamu, but how terrible would it be to die without being known? To be virtually alone and dying because of a foolish, avoidable accident?
There was a soft groan from the frighteningly still body, and Kiyoomi felt his heart leap. "Please, wake up! You can do this!" He stretched out his body to its length, grabbing at the prince's soaked trouser leg. A tremor ran through his whole body, and he could feel the prince shifting a little. "My lord!"
Kiyoomi couldn't help himself as he focused completely on the Miya prince. He needed to protect this foolish man. He needed to get him to safety. Kiyoomi couldn't stop now. Not when he had to manhandle another human being up a muddy cliff side at risk to himself. Not when he had to push his very limits of endurance to half-carry the injured man down the cliff.
Filth was clinging to his clothing and his skin, but the panic of it was numbed. Perhaps it was by the frigid rain coming down, or by the fear and then overwhelming relief on that handsome foreign face.
The Miya princes were both known for stubbornness, and their country was a proud one that was not easily willing to bow to others; they had fought larger nations for their freedom and had stubbornly clung to that independence. And yet this proud thing bent towards Kiyoomi, agreeing to a location nearby rather than trying for the castle. He had been sharp and angry earlier, but in the presence of agony and a near-death experience...
Well, Kiyoomi had once read a book that talked about how a man's true nature was revealed when they were at their lowest. Those who offered what little they had, or those who hoarded every morsel. Those who departed the world protecting others, or those who departed in attempts to take from others.
He had really thought that Miya was going to punch him, back when they’d been on horseback. In that moment, he had regretted ever coming to this blasted country; but as he limped through a downpour carrying almost the full weight of another man against his side, Kiyoomi wondered at who this prince was. Prince Miya was strong in pushing through the pain, smart in giving in to the sound logic Kiyoomi offered, and kind in expressing his gratitude and trying his very best to carry as much of his own weight as he could.
On the other hand, Kiyoomi began to feel a sense of despair creeping up on him. He was more exhausted than he'd ever been before. He was freezing and soaked to the bone, a sure recipe for a painful death due to illness. The brother and sister born directly before him had taken up with fever first, their frail bodies wasting away to nothing while their mother wept bitter tears. Were his brothers right? Was the countdown hanging over his head finally reaching its final moments? Was fate going to demand that he die sick and far from everything familiar and safe, watching his mother weep miserably over him while he wasted away on animal pelts and straw, or whatever these people slept on?
Misery...oh what a rotten pathetic hunk of flesh he was.
Feeling the impending weight of death hanging over him, Kiyoomi could feel terror and disgust creeping over every corner of his mind. Hell, he probably wasn't even helping this prince out of the goodness of his heart. He had no compassion; he was just stuck in a cycle of compulsions to finish what he started.
It was something that had started when he was a toddler, the need to leave nothing unfinished. He hadn’t wanted to trouble his poor mother. She had fretted so much over him, even though as consort to the king, she was so busy with matters of importance that he felt badly for it. The brother closest to his age, Daiki, was still eighteen years older than him. All of those siblings had big-people jobs, as did his parents, but Kiyoomi had had nothing. Daiki had teased him, calling him a useless baby who would never live long enough to have a job.
So Kiyoomi made little jobs for himself. He became obsessed with trying to make his jobs more and more complex, thinking that the harder it was, the more adult-like it would become. So toys were organized in more and more complex methods. He ate everything on his plate every time. Finished every homework assignment to self-imposed perfectionist standards, ritualized cleaning practices...anything and everything he could do to relieve his mother's stress and prove himself every bit as mature and adult-like as his siblings. Memorizing facts and teaching himself skills that were harmless to his overall health became almost meditative, and he was driven to master whatever caught his attention.
Nephews and nieces were his age. They never looked up to him.
Too much sunlight could burn his fair skin; he needed to stay indoors.
Aunt Kiyoko died from touching poisoned cloth for a new dress she was having made; he should always wear gloves.
He knew more words than most nobles, but could barely be understood verbally because he never had enough people around to practice speaking. A cousin from his mother's side had been dragged across the country to be his permanent playmate because the royal family couldn't have a son who couldn't speak properly.
Memorizing medical journals was painfully difficult, so he delved into that earnestly, desperate for something . Desperate to ease the growing pit of darkness and fear in his gut, and that ever present death knell sounding in his ears. If death was going to take him, he wanted to know every possible way it could. He needed to know the likelihood of every possibility, obsessed with ingraining those numbers in his brain. Mother was going to cry over him, but he wanted to make it as painless as possible for her. He wanted her to have only fond memories of him, a dutiful and quiet son who never gave her cause for trouble or grief.
And yet...
A loud cough startled him out of spiraling thoughts, and Kiyoomi shot the worn-out-prince a sharp glare. Miya grimaced, and it was then that the words spoken to Kiyoomi finally seemed to sink in.
"W-what are we supposed to wear?" Numbness and anxiety were clawing at his throat. He was filthy. He was cold. Sick, so sick. His hands were bare, the gloves he wore into this country nowhere to be seen. Probably lost in the bramble of the cliff side.
"Nothin', ya idiot. We'll dry up and get warm much faster that way."
"But we'll be naked!" No one but servants, doctors, or his parents had ever seen him in a state of undress before, and the idea of it was enough to make his teeth chatter and his breath quicken. Wasn't that especially improper during marital negotiations?!
Holy shit, this was happening.
"Is this your first time gettin' naked? C'mon, it's not a big deal." The Inarizaki prince was grimacing at him, and it only made Kiyoomi’s anxiety and embarrassment worse. Miya’s words made it sound like waltzing around in the nude was perfectly normal, but Kiyoomi couldn't even begin to imagine such impropriety. "You're killin' me, Omi."
"There's no way we could do that!" Prince Kiyoomi protested, even as he hugged his knees more tightly to ward off the cold. "We're not even betrothed !"
He wouldn't be able to survive being in this country. If a cold didn't kill him, humiliation very well might.
"We might be," Miya shrugged, completely unbothered. "An' aren't you the one worryin' about dyin' of the damn cold? Your clothes gotta go."
The man had a point, but it didn't help much. The spiral had already started, and Kiyoomi had never managed to pull out of one on his own in less than an hour. Thankfully, his breathing was only a little shallow and he wasn't falling into a full panic attack. Miya's voice was muffled and he had a hard time following the words.
Heat burned behind his eyes as he remained curled on the floor with his knees pressed against his chest. He'd never spent any time away from his castle before coming to this country, and now he was spending his first night away from everyone . No servants, attendants, family...No one but this stranger. Warm hands were tugging at his arm, insistent but still with a degree of care.
Almost unconsciously, he found all of his muscles relaxing. Kiyoomi stood to his feet stiffly, following along with the shorter man to the sink; he didn't even notice how he automatically wrapped an arm around that waist and helped him along. Those warm hands peeled the heavy clothing off of him, goosebumps erupting along the exposed skin. His breaths were coming in short bursts, frightened, and yet a comforting swipe of a calloused hand soothed over the flesh.
Miya was careful with him, not stopping in his movements, but being strangely considerate. The cold rag wiped over him much like a mother tending her child. His mind flashed back to a memory, his mother rocking him softly between helping put spoonfuls of hot broth into his mouth. She had spent hours dabbing at his face with a cool cloth, singing his fever away.
These hands were nothing like his mother’s. They were tanned and decorated with scars, callouses thick and uneven; but the care they offered was palpable. Warmth was building up in his gut and spreading out through all of his limbs. The short, panicked breaths were leveling out, and a bit of his delightful personality even managed to bubble up to the surface as he complained about the prince's treatment of his temperamental hair.
Surprisingly, the strange man took it in stride, no longer seeming to carry the tension and stress that had brought them beyond the castle walls in the first place. He was more playful with Kiyoomi, even as the color continued to drain from his face and the pain weighed his movements down. Kiyoomi found himself hunting through the cabin for a first aid kit and offering to not only touch another person's dirty boot, but also to cut it off and bandage his injured ankle. Reading all of those medical journals seemed to have offered him the theory of how to tend injuries, but he'd never attempted such a thing before.
Still, he didn't have too long to ponder how weird and gross it was going to be, when the prince (Atsumu, it was) dropped such a strange bombshell on him. He never could have imagined discussing marriage with a potential spouse to be so odd. So frank. No pretenses or hidden motivations; Miya Atsumu just stated his position as it was, shared his honest thoughts, and then practically proposed to him on the spot in the least romantic way. The offer of equal share of ruling powers was a nice touch, and not one that he was sure he could really believe, even from someone as earnest as Atsumu.
But it had been...something. A something that once again warmed him from the very core.
It wasn't enough to actually warm him once they settled into the bed and the night progressed, but that issue was resolved soon enough, with hands groping where they shouldn't be, with lips swallowing indecent noises, and skin alight with lust.