“Your Majesty! Truly, what a pleasant surprise to find you here.”

Tao narrowed his eyes, setting down upon a nearby stool the thick comb he’d been using to brush out his horse’s tangled mane. Looking carefully out from the corner of his dark eyes, he saw that a very strange picture indeed stood in front of him - Queen Kyungri, in all her usual black finery, stepping carefully down onto the soft soil of the stables in the most impractical looking of shoes. As always, she was followed closely behind by her nameless shadow of a servant whom Tao barely noticed. The quiet man stood silent and unmovable by the wall, waiting for his mistress with a dull, blank look.

Tao made sure to turn slowly, so that a practiced, friendly smile was etched onto his face when he finally met her gaze.

“I have granted you permission to address me by my name, Queen Kyungri.” He said, taking the hand extended toward him.

A strange tradition, one that had taken Tao time to get used to.

His husband’s people were much more cold in demeanor than his own people were toward one another, and yet at the same time, they were also accustomed to such greetings and masked words that implied a warmth between two people that did not exist.

Though he never would have done the same if he’d still been living with his people in the wild, he did as his husband would have done, flashing a smile at the woman in front of him, and bending down slightly to kiss the back of her hand.

“That would be rude of me, would it not? To address a king consort by his given name.” A master at the game, Kyungri feigned deference, carefully stepping around him as if more interested in reaching out to touch the muzzle of his horse.

His horse wanted none of it, of course.

It snorted fiercely, tossing its head in warning when she tried to reach out for it.

It wasn’t until Tao had reached out, placing a calming hand against the beast’s back, that it calmed back down. It continued to shift about afterward, remaining alert and unnerved by the woman’s close presence.

Though seeming oblivious to the horse’s dislike of her, Kyungri gave up her attempts to touch the creature, instead clasping her hands together piously as if that had been her intention all along.

“I, however, do not mind being addressed thusly by Your Majesty,” she simpered, laying an intimate hand against Tao’s bare arm. Bitterly cold and lily white against his warm, tanned skin. “For it speaks to a close relationship… does it not?”

Tao moved out of her reach, turning back to his horse with a frown.

“What is it that you require, milady?” Tao asked. Not liking at all the implications of the strange, stilted conversation they were having.

“I had hoped you would speak to your husband on my behalf, Your Majesty,” Kyungri said, crossing behind his back and hissing her snake-like whispers into his right ear. “You must know that I wish to have what quibbles remain between our countries resolved as quickly as possible. My people - they starve under such a long period of neglect.”

“And yet this is the first time I have heard you speak of them,” Tao muttered darkly. “One would think that a queen who truly cares about her subjects as much as you say you do would speak more to their worries than she would of her own.”

Kyungri pulled back with a glower, her hair falling back like an inky black curtain as she regarded Tao with barely repressed anger.

“Such harsh words, Your Majesty?” She spat, circling him with the ferocity of a starved predator eyeing her prey. “You must realize that we have more in common than you may think. We both married into our positions of power, after all.”

She stopped pacing, still just barely in view if he glanced to his left. The lingering darkness in her eyes had transformed into something far hungrier.

“We are both outsiders. And though we were born in different lands, these differences which push us apart are just as well the same bonds that tie us together, you and I. So I ask this of you - to try to come to some understanding of the situation you find yourself in. After all, we would not want to disappoint your sweet younger brother by denying him of the pleasures my own brings, would you?” She asked, to which Tao responded promptly and with great vitriol:

“It is not your brother that I do not trust. It is you.”

In one quick movement, reminiscent of the day he had sliced her husband’s throat open and killed him where he’d stood, Tao whipped back around to face her, his hand falling on his waistband where the handle of his hatchet lay.

And yet.

Before he’d even stopped moving, the silent servant was already standing in his path, having moved with incredible speed to protect his mistress. The sight of his scarred hand - carefully holding a short, sharp dagger with a grip that spoke of experience - was one that Tao did not miss.

His horse whinnied, aware of the danger that its master now faced.

Although beads of sweat were beginning to gather on the back of his neck, he maintained his composure, silently sizing up his opponent with a cold sneer.

Kyungri peered at him almost coyly from behind her servant’s shoulder, pursing her lips in what seemed to be a look of disappointment.

Showing your true colors already? Her laughing eyes seemed to be taunting him. How very unfortunate.

Tao bit down on his tongue until he could feel the blood swelling at its tip.

Though he had never shown fear in the face of battle, there was more to consider now.

Of them all, the most important being the king who looked to him for guidance and support - and, at night, the same man who expected to hold him in his arms, who loved him as deeply as one could ever love another.

Cornered as he was at the very back of the royal stables where no one would be able to help him, Tao could only stand his ground, refusing to make the foolish first move, but just as well refusing to let the two in front of him see the worry in his eyes. If he were to die now, so be it. He would die a brave man.

And yet nothing happened as he thought it might.

Rather than stepping forward to cut him open, Kyungri’s servant did nothing to him but to stare.

This was chilling in and of itself.

He was a quiet, subservient man - but there was a clear intelligence in his eyes that Tao hadn’t seen before - one that made him immediately wary.

Though it all happened in mere seconds, it seemed to consume hours, ended only when Tao took an uneasy step backward.

Kyungri’s servant attempted to answer with a step forward of his own, but he was stopped by a hand on his arm, pulling him back with a noise of disapproval.

“Stop it, Vergil. There’s no reason to hold that,” Kyungri said, plucking the dagger from lax fingers and slipping it back into the pouch it’d come from. Her servant moved not a muscle the entire time, his murderously green eyes still fixed upon Tao even as his mistress spoke to them both. “We were merely playing a game of wits. Isn’t that right, Your Majesty? It is all but a game.”

She winked at him, as if the two of them shared in some naughty secret.

Witch. He thought to himself in his native tongue, cursing her out colorfully in his mind

Outwardly, Tao swallowed drily, forcing himself to relax even as his body screamed at him not to. At last, when he finally felt as if he might have control of his body once again, he nodded stiffly. Reluctantly.

Kyungri smiled at him brilliantly, as if she’d thought she’d won.

Of what it was she thought she’d won, Tao did not know, but he did not wish to stay any longer to find out.

Thankfully, it did not seem as if he would be the one forced to move, as Kyungri excused herself shortly thereafter, boldly directing her servant out ahead of her with a wave of her hand.

She turned away without checking to see if the sunken-eyed servant had followed her orders. Though, of course, he had.

It would take just moments to cut her head from her shoulders, Tao considered, his fingers itching to pull out his hatchet. Her servant would be too far away by now - therefore he’d have no time to react.

But what would happen then? He supposed he would face a much larger foe, out for his blood. And though he did not doubt his own strength, he knew just as well his own limits.

After all, his aches were still healing, months after the battle that had nearly taken all of their lives.

So he did nothing, remaining as still as possible when Kyungri approached him, so close that he could feel the strands of her wispy long hair tickling the back of his hand.

She leaned in close, and all he could smell was the rotten scent of her perfume, metallic and odorous.

“Your Majesty. You love your husband dearly, do you not?” She whispered into his ear, her lips curling into a tight smile when Tao immediately stiffened with rage. She laughed, a tinkling, light little thing, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she turned and walked toward the door.

“We really are too similar.” She spoke over her shoulder, though her eyes never met his again.

“I loved mine as well.”

-

Though it was in the nature of his people to wake at the first sign of light, rushing to complete their daily errands before the heat of the desert sun grew to be too harsh, it was here, in a strangely green land, that Kyungsoo had grown accustomed to waking alone.

Where the sounds of bustling footsteps and the sound of people’s chatter would usually fill the air, there was only silence to greet him in the morning. Silence, and the occasional wind chime stirring in the open windows.

Rather than the hot and arid air of his homeland, there was instead the slight morning chill he’d gradually grown accustomed to. The coals in the traditional round moorish fireplaces had long gone cold and the brick chimneys were dozing just like the people were, breathing out naught but bare whispers of smoke.

The Moors slept on. Its people still lay curled up in their beds, restful and dreaming.

The only people up and about at the time were those whose birthplaces could be traced elsewhere - groups of dark-skinned Trivanese nobles, for example, tall and beautiful in their white morning robes, out walking their packs of dogs who trailed after them with whining yawns and wagging tails.

And then there were the Dinnish. Strange in dress and in manner. Often barefoot, though Kyungsoo could not determine why. Surely, the cobblestone must have felt cold.

They were seldom to be seen without a pleasant smile stretched across their face. Always with a laugh building in their throat, though the hours were early and the sun had yet to fully rise. Even as they trekked the long distances across the kingdom, carrying across their backs their heavy burdens of wood and stone, they did so quite merrily.

Kyungsoo would have thought it charming, if not for the fact that they’d taken to eyeing Kyungsoo as they passed by. As if he were a strange creature, an object of curiosity. Fitting of their bird-like nature, they would always turn their heads to stare - cocking their heads at him until they finally moved out of sight.

If Kai were here beside him, they might not have watched him so closely.

However, his young lover had left his company much earlier, telling Kyungsoo in what small, broken words Kyungsoo could understand that he was off to meet his mother at the very edge of the fen. Apparently, there were at least a hundred men and women and several dozen horses lying in wait, on their backs the bounty that was to be brought back in preparation for the upcoming festival. It was such a fantastical thing for Kyungsoo to imagine that he did not even try.

Of course, Kai had offered for him to come. He’d extended a callused hand out toward Kyungsoo, offering silent inclusion, a space on his saddle always ready should Kyungsoo choose to accept.

Kyungsoo had not.

They’d been there for quite some time now, and as his sister often said - their game of chess was not one to be rushed. They would not win the hearts of their enemies with fleeting, careless gestures. This Kyungsoo understood, though he was no master of the court quite like his sister.

However, he still felt it. Though he’d done nothing to draw attention to himself, it seemed that just his presence alone was enough to incite ire from those who knew nothing of him. He tried to keep to himself, but the look of distrust he saw in the eyes of those who passed was not one so easily shaken off.

Though he was sure there was nothing to be frightened of, Kyungsoo had to admit there was more than an overwhelming fear of meeting Kai’s mother. He did not wish for her to see him like this - so feeble and weak - a foil to Kai’s silent strength.

So he’d declined Kai’s invitation, choosing instead to walk to the kitchens by himself this morning, in search of food.

Perhaps he’d try one of those mince pies that Kai so adored. He’d never had one before.

It was, indeed, a strange experience, to be left so alone when he had become used to the other man’s constant presence.

Though not necessarily one that was unwelcome.

There was some comfort to be found in wandering in solitude, exploring the beauty of the famed moorish courtyards.

Dark green moss growing along the stone arches, birds chirping in their woven nests.

Flowers growing spindly and bright, crisscrossing against the colorful cloth banners and the rusting iron gates of beautiful stained glass windows.

The sheets laid out to dry along the courtyards were billowing and white, soft as a feather against Kyungsoo’s cheek.

He pushed past them, smiling softly as the wind shifted again, wrapping him back again in the smell of the faint lavender soap.

It wasn’t until he’d pushed past the final sheet that he noticed the shadow standing there watching him - barely visible until he’d seen strands of golden blonde hair blowing in the wind, a pair of dark eyes shining out at him from behind the stone pillars.

“Your Highness,” he called out to the figure, hesitantly standing still as Prince Sehun stepped out into the sunlight. The look on the royal’s face was difficult to read.

He had not seen the prince for a fortnight.

Though the moment they had all shared within the cave seemed to indicate a change in favor, Kyungsoo had not spoken to the other young man since, and he knew not where they stood. Perhaps that day had done nothing to dissuade Prince Sehun of his dislike for Kyungsoo.

There was certainly an unfavorable scowl on Prince Sehun’s face, though today it looked less harsh as it usually seemed. Or maybe it would have, if Kyungsoo had been able to take a proper look at the Prince’s face. Instead, his gaze fell somewhere by the prince’s feet as the prince stalked closer.

It wasn’t until the prince was an arm’s length away that he stopped, the rustle of wet grass crumpling beneath his leather boots loud and disruptive to Kyungsoo’s already tenuous nerves.

“Lord Kyungsoo,” Prince Sehun greeted, the dry tone he adopted far more welcome than the hostility Kyungsoo had been expecting. “Out and about at odd hours as usual, I see.”

Then, with a laugh that stunned him, the prince addressed Kyungsoo with a wry smile. “Pray tell us, have you managed a single night of rest ever since you arrived through the castle gates?”

“I, I -” Kyungsoo stuttered, face turning red as he wrung his hands together. “I am unused to the unusual sleeping habits of your people. We of the Pale wake early, you see, and I - I must admit I have been troubled with the -”

With a groan, Prince Sehun waved his hand impatiently, silencing him in the middle of his sentence.

“I was merely joking.” The prince sighed, looking quite pained as he rubbed a hand over his face. Then he peeked between his fingers at Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo kept his eyes to the side under the heat of the other’s gaze, shuffling stiffly in his place.

They stood like that, for a long, prickling silence. Broken only by a few dry coughs on both sides.

Lord Kyungsoo did not really understand why it was that the prince had not already left - there was nothing keeping him there, no obligation to Kyungsoo that he had to fulfill - and yet the prince looked as if he wanted to say something.

Though his only attempts at finding conversation were limp gestures with his hands and a general, vague grumbling in the back of his throat, it was as if the royal were trying to find something to talk about, and that alone made Kyungsoo feel very afraid.

The last thing he wanted to do was to incite the prince’s anger once again. It had happened too often in the recent past, and it had always left a bitter taste in both party’s mouths. This new peace of theirs was far too strange and fragile for Kyungsoo to begin to comment on.

Once more, he heard Prince Sehun clearing his throat, and though his gaze still lay firmly on the ground, he saw the prince gesture to his hands out of the corner of his eyes.

“I… have heard talk of those toys you have made for the children of the village,” the prince said slowly, as if very carefully choosing his words, “These charitable gifts of yours have not gone unappreciated.”

Kyungsoo had no idea what ‘talk’ Prince Sehun spoke of. He was surprised enough that he had been noticed at all. It was his sister who was the key figure in the ongoing negotiations between their lands, never him. He was but her companion, a fly on the wall.

“‘Tis no charity, Your Highness,” Kyungsoo finally spoke, his voice hoarse from disuse, “for I quite enjoy doing it.”

When he glanced up, Sehun was pursing his lips, squinting his eyes at him in consideration.

“I wonder,” Sehun began, “if you are quite as good with your little machines as the rumors say you are?”

“Well,” Kyungsoo mumbled, quite sheepishly, “I suppose I do what I can.”

The prince turned his head, humming to himself. Then, with a fleeting grimace as though he were about to do something that he thought he might regret, Sehun turned around, gesturing for him to quickly follow with another impatient gesture that Kyungsoo was starting to associate with the young royal.

“Come along, then. There is something I would like you to take a look at.”

“Y - Your Highness?” Kyungsoo asked, holding out a hand to the royal’s quickly disappearing back. There was no response.

Kyungsoo could do nothing but follow, casting anxious glances behind him as he stumbled forward with a halting pace.

-

“I would like you to know that I find this is all very upsetting and - Oi! - just where do you think you are touching me?!”

“Oh, just hold still, you nattering fool. Lord Kyungsoo would have finished ages ago if it weren’t for your fidgeting.”

Chanyeol’s face held an uncharacteristically gloomy expression, but other than another loud huff under his breath, the knight did as he was instructed, holding his arm out obediently.

It did not stop him from eyeing the Tidreann lord warily though. He made sure to keep the fingers of his intact hand resting warningly over the hilt of his blade, jerking back reflexively when cold fingers touched the bare skin of his vulnerable stump.

He had no need to be nervous, though. If anything, Kyungsoo looked just as - if not more nervous - than he was. The lord was sweating profusely as he stretched out a scrap of rough leather over the knight’s arm, drawing careful measurements upon with a small stick of charcoal that he pulled out from his waist-side pouch.

Though Chanyeol remained alert and wary, both he and Sehun watched him work with great interest.

To the untrained eye, the marks he made seemed nonsensical. But here, there seemed to be a method to his madness. There had to be some reason for him to be pulling the leather strap across Chanyeol’s arm time and time again, drawing it taut and muttering numbers to himself under his breath.

The muscles in the knight’s stump of an arm twitched uncontrollably as Kyungsoo tapped at it with his finger. The knight hissed in discomfort, shaking his arm out defiantly only to have it snatched back the moment he’d stopped moving it.

“And what exactly is he hoping to achieve by doing all of this?” Chanyeol asked, talking over the shorter man’s head to the prince standing nearby. The lord did not seem to mind. Either that, or he was so drawn into his work that he hardly noticed the two of them talking.

“If I am to truly believe his skill, then the answer to your question would be a simple one. He is trying to give you a new arm.” Sehun responded, his hand resting thoughtfully on his chin as he watched the young genius at work.

“You must be joking,” Chanyeol spluttered, jerking his stump of an arm away out of Kyungsoo’s prying fingers and pulling it protectively close to his chest, “We all know that his people speak to the devil with those thunder sticks of theirs! His people were the ones who wickedly stole my arm from me - why should I risk my life again to be the subject of his experiments?”

“Because the reward you are being offered,” Sehun said, stepping forward to drag the knight’s arm away from his chest and ing it back toward a wide-eyed Kyungsoo, “is far greater than the risk of any danger you believe yourself to be in.”

“‘Far greater’, he says!” Chanyeol whinged, though his attention had now shifted onto the prince, allowing Kyungsoo to continue taking his strange measurements undisturbed. “And how can we be so sure that he will not use the opportunity to cast some terrible spell on both you and I?”

Sehun rolled his eyes.

“Because,” Said Sehun, “if magic truly existed, Chanyeol, my brother would have found some way to grant you your arm back by now.”

That thought gave the knight pause.

It was true - his king had been more than just a little distraught, when he’d spied his friend being carried in on a stretcher, just barely clinging onto life and the shreds of his arm that they had, in the end, not been able to save. Though the good king cared a great deal for all of those wounded and dead who had been brought back to the city to be either healed or buried, both Chanyeol and Luhan were his childhood friends, and he’d made sure that the two of them were given the best of care in the aftermath of the battle.

He’d heard from Baekhyun, of course, of all the healers and chemists and scholars who had stopped by their bedsides, sent by the King to fix the damage that had been wrought by war. Of course, he’d been too much in pain to have seen the spectacle for himself. Those days were hazy at best, seen through the white gauze of the bandages wrapped across his body, and the panicked tears of his lover, dripping down onto his face in the darkest of nights.

In the end, not even the influence of the royal family could fix the inevitable, not that Chanyeol had ever blamed them for it. He had been willing. And, if he were given the chance to make the decision again, he would have without a doubt made the same choice. So he had simply resigned himself to the fact. He had grown used to it - and though he’d lost his dominant hand for good, he’d learned to use his left arm as quickly as he could. He still was learning, as the aches of the fresh wounds faded away with his scars.

But oh - to be able to feel Baekhyun in both his arms again. How lovely a thought that was! How he had taken it for granted, when he’d had two arms to hold his lover with.

And though he knew that Baekhyun cared not for his scars or his appearance, Chanyeol would have been lying to say that he did not long to be whole once again.

Chanyeol glanced down at his stump, the white crisscrossing lines of his scar drawing his skin tight and smooth around the edges. He squinted an eye, bringing his other arm in parallel as he tried to imagine what it might seem like, to have something to fill the empty space, even if it were nothing but cold metal.

The idea was hypnotizing.

So, though he still thought himself a little foolish for letting his guard down, he relaxed, holding out his arm quietly. And though he could not help the uneasy expression that settled on his face, he acquiesced and let the strange little man do as he wished.

It helped, just a little, when Kyungsoo quietly thanked him for his cooperation, glancing up with a small smile that made his eyes scrunch up at the corners.

Taking a moment to blink, Chanyeol could not help but sigh.

-

Kyungsoo struggled to pack away his supplies as quickly as he could, bundling his tools into the single strip of leather before tucking it into his belt. He did so while trying to keep up with the man in front of him who seemed to have forgotten his existence entirely.

“Your Highness! If - if I may have a word with you?” Kyungsoo called out, nearly tripping over his own feet as he struggled to catch up to the prince’s brisk pace.

He nearly ran into the fair-haired royal’s back when the other man stopped, jerking back when the prince whipped around to face him.

“Speak.” Sehun commanded of him, and with a nervous smile, Kyungsoo did as he was told.

“I was - I was hoping you might… put in a good word with your brother, the king.” He began, only to see Sehun’s eyes begin to grow cold. He quickly backpedaled.

“I am not asking for much! I just thought - that maybe we southerners might be able to - to open our own stalls during the festival.”

“And why should we allow you to do that?”

“Because I am but one of many master craftsmen!” Kyungsoo tried, attempting to conjure up the memory of his sister’s diplomacy and oration lessons that he’d overheard as a child. “And if - if my skill impresses you, than I assure you, you will be most pleased with the skill of my fellow countrymen.”

Prince Sehun looked unconvinced.

And even to his own ears, Kyungsoo’s words seemed to fall short of the mark. So, throwing his shoulders back and clearing his throat, he tried again - this time with conviction.

“You see, we can only survive on what has been provided to us for so long. And though we greatly appreciate all the support we have received from the royal family, I believe that this would be a wonderful opportunity for us to prove our - our worth - without begging aid from your brother.”

He gestured at the stoic prince, steeling himself for what he was about to say with a small smile. “Why, I… I am sure your own Lady Bita would be thrilled to open her own stall! Her family comes from an esteemed line of weapons smiths - they use only the finest steels and the purest of alloys to craft their weapons. A-and her uncle, the Earl of Salt - why, I’m sure he would love to peddle his fine spices to the many wonderful cooks of your kingdom!”

The prince tilted his head, eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. In consideration, perhaps.

Kyungsoo seized upon the opportunity, feeling confidence rush into him as he grasped the minute sway in the conversation.

“I, myself, would love to use the opportunity to show off my automatons. Perhaps I will be able to change the perception that our machines are only used as weapons of war.”

All of Kyungsoo’s growing confidence shattered as the prince’s gaze turned cold once more.

“Is this what you wanted? An audience with the King, granted through the attention Kai has gifted you with?” Prince Sehun spat.

Kyungsoo turned his gaze back to the ground in a hurry.

“No, that is… that is not true.” He mumbled, retracting quickly back into his own shell.

Quite unprovoked, a long, loud sigh came from the prince.

Kyungsoo looked back up to see that the royal was now rubbing at his forehead, looking quite pained as he shook his head slowly.

“…I’m sorry, that was… rude of me.” The prince told him, which in itself seemed a fantastical miracle that Kyungsoo could hardly believe. “I… I know that you have been trying to be earnest.”

Kyungsoo could only blink in a stunned silence. This was a response that he had not expected.

“Well, Your Highness, I -” He began, trying to fumble his way through another apology when the other man raised a hand to silence him.

“No, hear me out. Allow me to apologize. I know that I am …stubborn at times.” Said the prince, turning to face him fully. For a moment, the two former foes stood face to face, looking one another in the eyes, and trying to come to an understanding that never would have taken place months ago across the stretch of a bloodied battlefield.

“Let me…” Sehun paused, closing his eyes and taking a deep, calming breath before opening them again. “…let me prove my good intentions.”

…and so Kyungsoo could only nod after a moment, shocked and numb.

Then the moment was over.

Prince Sehun moved away with a rough clearing of his throat, looking away as though the sight of Kyungsoo’s eyes unnerved him.

“I will do my best,” The prince promised, waving his hand in the vague direction of the court. “In the meantime, it would be a great favor to me if you continued to work on… on that…”

“False limb.” Kyungsoo supplied helpfully, watching as Sehun nodded enthusiastically and gestured toward him.

“Yes, right. That.” Sehun muttered, before turning away to his original path.

Kyungsoo did not follow this time. He only watched in a quiet stupor, head tilting almost mechanically to follow the prince’s movements.

The prince turned back just once, looking as if he’d just remembered something.

“Oh, and many thanks, for agreeing to aid Chanyeol!” He called out toward Kyungsoo, whose expression remained blank. “For what it is worth, I am grateful for your help.”

Kyungsoo nodded slowly, stretching out his hand in a half wave. With just as much hesitant reluctance, his gesture was returned briefly before the prince turned away again, still mumbling to himself as he stalked out of the hallway and out of sight.

Kyungsoo, on the other hand, kept his hand up long after the other man had disappeared, his puzzled mind burning with unanswered questions.

His original quest for food was long forgotten.

-

Mother’s horses were as wild and beautiful as ever. They were stomping at the ground with their massive hooves, tossing their heads gaily left and right.

Kai walked by with light touches to their muzzles, greeting them as if they were old friends. And they were - some had been but fillies and colts when he was young, and they had all grown together, cultivating their life lessons along the harsh lands of their traveling home.

The horses lifted their heads toward him as he passed, shaking out their gorgeous manes and stretching out their noses to brush against his. He swallowed a laugh, petting a familiar, ebony beauty between the eyes before turning away and heading deeper into camp.

Though the location was ever shifting, mother’s campsite was always a familiar sight.

The fires were stoked out front, surrounded as always by a ring of men and women who tended to them diligently, keeping them lit and warm, always smelling of delicious, cooked meat.

They all greeted him with loud shouts and energetic wave, all smiles and laughter as he greeted them back just as much spirit, looking longingly at the tantalizing platters of fresh food that he was forced to disregard on his journey inward to meet the Chieftainess.

He walked by what seemed like endless rows of stuffed pheasant and pig roasting on the spits, rotated tirelessly and teasing him with their succulent fat juice, dripping into cast iron pans to be added later in the soup.

Kai gratefully took stuffed leaf from a young woman who offered it up to him as he walked past, holding it carefully between his hands as he carefully unfolded it to find the steaming hot meat inside.

He blew on it and ate as he walked, quickly picking meat from the bones and tossing the scraps to the stray dogs wandering around the camp, watching as they bent their noses to the ground and the juices off the leaf he’d left behind.

Later, when he’d finally moved past the smoke of the great fire, he crossed across the river mother had chosen to pitch her tents upon. It split the camp in two, providing fresh water to both those who remained in the tents and the cooks who drew water constantly for the stock.

Of all those who he found there, Kai spotted his fathers among those in the river, up to their knees in the cold water, scraping smooth rocks over the animal skins they had spread out along the rocks to wash.

He held a hand out to them, watching as Father Wa lifted a hand back in greeting and Father San spread his arms open for a hug.

Kai slid down the bank, jumping eagerly into the river as he splashed toward the two men who had raised him.

They took him into their arms with a joyful laugh, wiping the dirt from his face and chattering over him the same way they always had since he was a child. He laughed when one of them plucked at his tunic, remarking in their native tongue about the strange clothes their son was dressed in.

He stayed with them for a while, telling them about all that he’d been up to, of the things he’d seen and the people he’d met. He neglected to tell them of Kyungsoo, of course, but that would have been a conversation that would have taken hours. Either way - once mother knew, he knew that the news would spread to them soon enough.

After enduring their doting attention long enough, he moved away, gesturing to the camp around him.

“Where is mother?” He spoke in his native tongue, ducking away with a smile from the hand that reached out to ruffle his hair.

“She waits for you in her tent.” Said Father Wa, pointing a sun-weathered finger up onto the opposite embankment where the largest of tents had been erected.

“She has been expecting you for a long time.” Father San said, slapping lightly at the backs of Kai’s legs as he helped push his son up and out of the water.

“Go speak to her!” They urged him, shooing him with their hands and waving at him with their wet rags.

“We will talk later!” They promised. Of this he had no doubt - he would see them again soon enough.

Their toothy smiles were infectious - there was one on his own face when he finally climbed onto the top of the bank.

He looked back, waving at them gratefully for the help before shaking the water off his clothes and setting off once more.

-

The Chieftainess was indeed inside her tent when he ducked under the familiar blue curtain, pushing it aside with his hand as he walked into a cloud of smoke.

He gagged and coughed, waving the smoke from his face as he attempted to locate his mother.

He found the Chieftainess soon afterward, quite predictably smoking her pipe whilst sitting cross-legged on the ground. She appeared to be rubbing some of the grounds between her fingers, most likely examining the quality of the leaves she had tamped inside of its chamber.

He coughed in lieu of a proper greeting, his eyes practically squinting shut with the strength of the smoke that stung at them.

Kai heard more than saw his mother get up, setting the pipe down and shuffling toward him through the slowly clearing fog.

“Young one.” She spoke to him, her voice just as deep and husky as he had remembered, “So you visit me here at last.”

“Yes, I have come,” He said, dropping his pack to the ground.

Though she was his mother, she was also the Chieftainess. So, in respectful deference, he placed his palms on the ground, lowering himself down until his forehead touched the dirt. Only when his mother laid a warm hand across his back did he rise back up, though he remained kneeling for the moment. His mother was squatting beside him now, gazing upon him as if trying to take in every detail that had changed since they had last seen each other.

Kai waved a hand toward his small pack.

“I have brought gifts - small trinkets of favor from the king. He hopes your journeys fared well.”

He waited for her to open up his pack to see what was waiting for her inside.

Instead of moving toward it, she only continued to watch him, the corners of her eyes wrinkled with humor.

He shifted in his place, mouth turning slowly downward in confusion.

“What is it?” Kai asked, not sure what it was she was waiting for. He cocked his head in question.

With a low laugh, she opened up her arms, gesturing for her youngest to come to her.

“Have you not learned how to properly greet your own mother? Come here - it has been far too long since I have held you in my arms!”

With a sigh, Kai let himself be pulled into yet another strong embrace, grumbling only briefly when she refused to let him go without first kissing his head and ruffling the thick head of auburn hair that he had inherited from her.

“Just a few months of staying with your elder brother, and you’ve already forgotten the ways of your very own people?” She teased, nipping the tip of his nose with her fingers.

Kai grimaced, wrinkling his nose in displeasure. He leaned over to pick up the pack from the ground where he’d dropped it, tossing it at her without warning.

Like the seasoned warrior that she was, she caught it with her quick reflexes, her expression never changing as she dug into the pack with all the eagerness of a scavenging vulture.

She pulled out each gift with a grinning smile, biting down on the golden bracelets with her teeth to ensure its authenticity, bringing the small bags of spices up to her nose to smell them.

Kai let his mother go through the bag as he sat back on his haunches.

The sound of his foot tapping against the ground impatiently was not one that escaped the Chieftainess’ sharp ears.

“Are you in a rush?” She asked, gasping as she pulled out a long strand of brilliant pearls that the moorish queen mother herself had personally gifted to her. She laid it against her , admiring the way it glimmered in the light for a moment before setting it back aside and glancing over toward her son. “Diving so quickly into serious matters? How very unlike you.”

Kai sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“The journey is long. If we wish to reach the castle by mid-day, we must hurry. It is best that we start our preparations early.”

“Oh, is that right?” His mother clucked, digging into the furs around her waist for a hidden pouch, stuffing small, glittering rings into it. “And am I to believe that the haste is really for our sake? Or is there some other reason that you wish to return sooner?”

Kai flushed.

Mother was as perceptive as always.

“No. There is no other reason.” He said.

The Chieftainess lifted her head, squinting up at her son.

“Do not lie, young one.” She said. “I am far too old and too wise to be led astray by any of your attempts to deceive me.”

Kai remained stubbornly quiet, picking at the rocks beneath his feet and refusing to meet her gaze. She eyed him shrewdly.

“Have you run into some trouble, boy? Perhaps you’ve made a pretty young lass swell with child?” She probed, only to see Kai scowling at her under his thick lashes.

“Hmm,” she tried again, absently rubbing a ring against her leather plate until it was shining and bright, “perhaps you have finally met your zovya?”

Kai’s eyes darted quickly away.

The Chieftainess raised her eyebrows, dropping all that she held in her hands in order to grip her child by the shoulders, looking him over quickly for anything else she might have missed.

“Child,” she cried, “could it be you have already performed the bonding ceremony?”

Kai shook his head.

“Mother, I will tell you when the time is right. For now, I have only just begun to make my intentions clear to him.”

The Chieftainess pouted, acting like a scolded child as she returned back to the pouch.

Thankfully, his mother was nowhere near as shocked as Kai recalled the moorish queen mother to be when she’d been introduced to his elder brother Tao for the first time.

But he hadn’t expected her to be.

Unlike their moorish people and their southern cousins, the dinnish were accustomed to short courtships. Rather than the long, complicated affairs that took place within the kingdom courts, the tribesmen and tribeswomen believed strongly in their belief that from a single flame, two souls were birthed. And though of course there was certainly passion and love between two individuals tied together through a bonding ceremony, the idea behind it all was less so about the choice one made to love someone else as it was about the feeling of belonging to their chosen one.

And if marriage was seen less to be a joining of two individuals as it was a reuniting of two souls long separated, then there was no need for any time wasted on lengthy romances that led way to wandering affections.

This drawn-out affair seemed quite silly to the Chieftainess.

“If one waits too long, the harvest will surely spoil.” She practically sang, to which Kai glowered back at her.

“He is skittish,” he explained, “like one of a newborn colt still wet from the womb. He hides in the shadows of his sister.”

The Chieftainess hummed, still rummaging through the contents of the pack spilled out onto the floor halfheartedly as she considered her next response.

“He is weak?” She asked, only to be answered with a strong shake of her son’s head.

“No.” Kai said, with a confident toss of his head. “His body may be frail, but he is strong of heart.”

The Chieftainess dropped everything she held in her hands back to the ground with finality, giving her son a long, hard look.

“And you are certain he is your zovya?”

“Certain.” Kai repeated, almost immediately.

Though, as his mother, she would always worry for her youngest, his conviction was strong enough to be believable. The Chieftainess copied Kai’s slow nod with one of her own.

She slapped her knee suddenly, the loud sound jerking Kai out of thought.

“Well then. You must speak to this sister of his. You must have the ceremony with him as quick as possible.”

“I cannot - not yet.” Kai admitted with a grimace. “She is slippery. Like a snake. I can see the fear he has for her in his eyes. I must be wary of her, too.”

“All the more reason to steal him away, is it not?”

Though having always been subtle with his emotions, Kai’s mother recognized the look of hesitance for what it was - having learned from years of experience how to interpret the slight scrunch of his brow and the pursing of his lips.

She knew better than to carry the conversation on her own - her son, just like his father before him - was naturally a man of few words.

Instead she settled for packing her newest possessions away, tucking them into corners where they would not be found by the hands of a wandering child, saving some of the spices to be brought to the fire later that evening and retrieving some of the smaller gems to be gifted to her husbands.

When she had finished, she settled slowly back onto the floor, tucking her legs beneath her as she took up the pipe once more. She took her time tamping in fresh leaves, lighting it with a twig from the fire and watching the edges curl black and red with the hot flame.

He spoke only when he was ready, having watched for a few minutes the smoke trail up from her pipe in curling, twisting shapes.

“He is… sick.” Kai admitted, the lovesick worry quite noticeable in his bright and expressive eyes. “…I will make my intentions clear to him when he is better.”

She did not ask the nature of the illness. It seemed inappropriate to ask. And yet, at the same time, it once again reinforced in her mind the importance of getting bonded sooner rather than later.

Who knew what little time the two of them would have together, if the sickness was as grave as Kai seemed to suggest?

But she respected her son’s decision. Though he looked stern, Kai was as gentle as a lamb, and the Chieftainess knew that his choices were ones that were always made out of love.

She placed her hands on her knees, inhaling in deeply the smell of medicinal herbs, making sure to blow out the rings of smoke away from her son who still sat so deeply in thought.

“Do you fear that what happened to your brother will happen to you?” She wondered aloud.

Kai grunted.

“I will not force him. He must come to me willingly. With a clear mind.” He whispered.

He reached out without looking. She placed the pipe in her son’s hands, allowing him to take a few deep puffs on his own before taking it back.

They shared a quiet moment together. The only sounds were their deep breaths, the slow, steady exhales sometimes followed by short, dry coughs. Taking in another puff, the Chieftainess scooted a little closer, whispering to him almost secretively in a misty cloud of white.

“I had your brother Suho with Father San when I was barely your age,” she told him, before reaching out to swipe at his arm, “and here I was! Thinking you more adventurous than I. You were always the free spirit, were you not? Un-rooted to the land.”

Her son pierced with a dark look. She cleared and quickly made her point.

“Why choose him?” She asked. “When you could have any of the fearsome warriors of your own tribe falling at your feet.”

Kai shook his head vehemently, looking almost disgusted at the thought.

“I desire no other,” he said, “and though he may speak in strange riddles and shy away from all forms of touch - there is a beauty in him that remains unrivaled by any man or woman in this land. Even if I had the choice, I would choose no one else.”

Now this was the Kai that she knew, the Chieftainess thought to herself. One whose ardor knew no end - who had always known what he had wanted and how he was to get it.

Of course, he had never seemed much interested in men or women before (disgusted, even, by the advances others had made on him), but it the end, it only served to make him seem all the more passionate now.
He turned closer to his mother, leaning in to whisper into her ear.

“On the very night before first met - I - I had a vision.” Kai said. “Of a beautiful blackbird. Piercing. With a haunted gaze. But I was not afraid.”

The Chieftainess slowly pulled the pipe away from her face, drawn in by his words, her single breath held in her chest for what seemed like an eternity.

“It was as if it saw through me - witnessed my true becoming. I wished to steal it for myself. But, when I reached out for it, I found myself plunging through a waterfall instead. Then the waterfall became a lake. And when I hoped to see feathers in my hands, I found something else entirely.”

He gripped her hand suddenly.

“And he was there! Just as I had dreamed he would be. Instead of wings, he held onto my hands with his pale fingers. Piercing me with those very same eyes. I’d seen it before. It felt - so familiar. Like the way the wolves howl at the moon - it echoed in my chest.”

She exhaled slowly, the white smoke splitting in two thick trails on either side of her face as she examined the flushed, pale face of her son.

Kai took in a deep breath, leaning back to compose himself.

“You must think me mad.”

The Chieftainess shook her head slowly.

“I do not.” She told him, looking down at the small fire in the middle of the tent. Winged insects were flying circles around the fire, dazed by the light.

“I have heard similar tales before,” she admitted, “from your brother Tao. Of course, I only heard them when his wounds were still fresh from the battle - but you could see it in his eyes. Just like I see it in yours now.”

The Chieftainess could tell she had piqued her son’s interest. His eyes grew bright once more.

“Really?” He whispered. “So Tao had a vision of his own?”

She chuckled, earthy and rattling, her small, thin shoulders shaking under the thin fox pelt she’d pinned across it.

“Yes,” she said, “as did your father, when he finally coaxed me into bed with him.”

“Father did?” Kai asked eagerly, grabbing hold of her pipe again to take an excited huff or two. She let him, glancing over at him with a wide smile.

“Oh, sweet child,” The Chieftainess murmured, gripping his cheek between her rough fingers, “Of course he did. Your father was very special to me. He was taken so early from this earth - so young.”

And you look so much like him, a thought which she kept to herself, even as she brushed the back of her hand across his cheek.

“Father was a brave warrior. I too, will be brave.” Kai promised her, with a look so serious that she could not help but to laugh.

She pulled him in closer, hooking her arm over his neck and dragging him into her arms.

She breathed in the warm, earthy scent of his hair, closing her eyes to memorize the feeling of her youngest child in her arms.

“Is this what you want?” She asked him quietly.

“I have never wanted anything more, mother.” His response trembled through her collarbone, against which Kai’s face remained pressed.

It took her a moment, but she regained her composure, making sure that when she finally let her youngest go, all he saw was her wide, cheery grin.

“Well, then,” she said, “I suppose I shall ask Wa to gather my best clothes.”

“Why, what for?”

“I was ragged and tired when I met your brother’s other half for the first time. If I am to meet yours, I would like to look my best, this time.” She explained.

Kai’s grin, the same one passed onto him from his mother, spread slowly but surely onto his face.

-

Kyungsoo examined a copper grommet he’d pinched between his fingers, bringing it closer to the complex series of lens that he’d pulled in front of his eye. He inspected every detail, rubbing it quickly between his fingers.

Satisfied, he laid it down upon the marked section of leather that he’d brought from his morning excursion.

It was the perfect size. If his measurements were correct, he might be able to fit just about eight of these copper grommets in regular intervals along the leather. This would allow him to fit the iron mold over it - and with that, the artificial limb would have a sleeve which would be able to be tightened and loosened - extended and contracted at the wearer’s leisure without damaging the integrity of the iron piece fitted over it.

For a knight, it would be crucial to have such flexibility, and so Kyungsoo planned out his cuts with the wearer’s needs in mind, humming quietly to himself as he drew out another precise mark with his stick of charcoal.

He was so preoccupied by his craft that he barely noticed his sister walking in. It wasn’t until she’d stepped right in front of him, holding a plate of food directly under his nose that he’d paused, glancing up with an owl-like blink that looked distorted and strange under the contraption he wore on his head. He pulled it off with an uneasy twitch of a grain, accepting the plate with the hand that wasn’t already holding his tools.

Thankfully, she’d filled up his plate with foods that could be consumed with a single hand - nuts and berries from their chest that had the same earthy, bitter aftertaste that all of the native food of their barren land had. He grimaced, though he made sure to hide the expression from Kyungri.

Over the past few weeks, he’d grown frightfully accustomed to eating foods prepared fresh from the kitchens, something which he neglected to mention to his sister out of fear of triggering one of her volatile moods. She was always so paranoid that they would out to poison them - insisting that they always eat from the reserves that they’d brought with them. But as the days had turned into months, he’d found no fault in the sweet and succulent foods he’d snuck a taste of so far - nothing other than a dreadful tummy ache he’d suffered one day he had made the mistake of eating far too much.

Kyungsoo forced the bitter food down without protest, stuffing the berries into his mouth and gulping them down without chewing so that he could return quickly to his project.

So used to blending back into the background until he was deemed to be of use, he was startled when his sister chose to sink down onto the bed beside him.

“Eat slowly. You might choke yourself at that speed.” She commanded.

He did as his sister asked, slowing down until he was chewing each nut several times before swallowing, going so far as to exaggerate his motions so that his sister could clearly see them. She nodded, satisfied with his obedience, before her eyes turned downward to the mess of copper and metal parts that were held within the leather mat on his lap.

“What in god’s name are you doing?” She asked, though her tone seemed more bored than curious.

“I,” Kyungsoo started, nearly choking on a berry before swallowing his spit and steeling his nerve, “I have been asked to take on a very important duty for the prince.”

“For the prince? What, the useless younger brother of the king?”

She gave him a look of deep disapproval.

“Who told you to accept without my permission?” She asked. “Running menial errands for a petty member of the court is not what you should waste your time on. You have a more important task to complete, remember?”

She tapped on his bracelet, still cuffed to his wrist as it had been for months.

Both a shackle and a key, he thought to himself, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his free arm.

“I - I think he is trying to make friends with me.” He tried again, hoping that this time she’d see the logic in his ways.

“He has heard of my skill and - and in exchange for creating an artificial limb for one of the royal guards, he has offered to speak to the king about allowing us a small presence during the festival. W-we would be able to set up stalls and, and if we did in fact sell anything, we’d be allowed to keep our profits! Perhaps we could… perhaps we could send what we earn back home.”

Kyungsoo paused, glancing over to his sister for praise and approval, thinking in his mind that he’d done well in his mission to secure the wellbeing of his people waiting at home.

And yet, as always, Kyungri looked as thoroughly unimpressed with him as she probably had since the day he’d been born.

She stole the leather sling away from him, swinging it around carelessly with a scornful laugh and avoiding his panicked protests and the grasping hands that begged for it back.

“The king,” she spat, as if the word itself were poison, “can say whatever he wishes. I, on the other hand, will not believe a word of his promises until one of us stands firmly within the royal family.”

Kyungsoo grabbed the sling from her hands quickly, his head beginning to ache anew.

Her hawk-like gaze turned to him in the process, and he found himself flustered under her attention, swallowing thickly and looking down at his fingers.

“Well? What of your progress?” She demanded. “How close is the boy to taking your hand in marriage?”

‘Has Kai made his intentions clear to you yet? Or do you suppose he will be doing so quite soon?’

He heard Yixing’s voice whisper ever so clearly in his ear. He shook his head, dismissing the auditory hallucination with a frown.

Even in memory, he reacted to those phantom words just as he had back then. He had to close his eyes against the strength of his emotions, praying to the gods that his face had not flushed bright red.

“Not yet,” he lied to his own sister, for reasons not even he understood, “but, perhaps soon.”

“…is that so?”

His sister narrowed her eyes at him, sitting up slowly on the bed with a pondering, thoughtful look.

He could feel the warning signs before it even fully began.

The itch under his skin that refused to be scratched, the loud and pounding blood in his temples.

Kyungri stood up in a sudden, graceful move, her long limbs stretching and her dress falling perfectly around her. She hummed quietly, in a strangely cheerful mood that had his mind falling back in terror.

“No matter what anyone has falsely promised you, Kyungsoo, remember that you must secure a marriage by the eve of the harvest festival.” She told him, bending over to prod his cheek with her finger. “The livelihood of our people may very well depend on it. And you would not want to see our people starve because of you, would you?”

He stared at her soulless, black eyes, no longer seeing a reflection of his own flesh and blood. He could see nothing of his sister who had protected him as a child. In its place was a monster.

One that frightened him to silence.

Like oil to the infernal machine, she caused the gears in his head to start grinding once again, the clock which had been silenced for so long, now ticking once again.

And though she left him alone soon after that, grooming herself in her mirror and changing out of her strangely muddied shoes, he remained frozen in his place, eyes wide open with his heart pounding out of his ears.

After what seemed like ages, she slipped out the door. Virgil, whom he had not even noticed in the room, followed closely behind his mistress, trailing after her like the slowly swaying tail of a lion.

Then, finally, he was alone.

Only a second passed before he weakened.

On stumbling, weak legs, he rushed over to the nearest chamber pot to heave all that he’d just eaten into it.

And as it all came out of him, in a rush of thick, red sludge, all he could smell was the metallic scent of fresh blood.