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Hakuryuu is different from his older brothers, and in some way has always seemed to be separate from the royal family itself.
Judar knows this even as they’re both children, as they both know far too little. He observes Hakuryuu intently when he can, whenever his time is not being occupied by the geezers with their empty-eyed stares and grueling lessons that frequently leave his body wounded and aching.
He watches as Hakuryuu trails after Hakuyuu, clinging to his robes with stars in his eyes. Hakuyuu's fondness for his baby brother is easily found in the gentle curve of his mouth, in the protective line of his shoulders.
Sometimes he feels a sharp, cruel urge to tell this weak little thing, this too-small boy with a gaze full of love, that he will never be as his big brothers he admires so ardently. He knows Hakuryuu's nature, can see the rukh that emanates from him and its swaying, delicate nature.
Never will he be a strong, absolute ruler like his eldest brother is destined to be.
Strangely, these words seem to die on his tongue whenever he’s with the younger boy.
Hakuryuu cries often, and easily. Judar would be lying if he said he didn’t occasionally enjoy tripping up Hakuryuu to make him fall on his face for sport. It was just to watch him cry. To Judar, Hakuryuu was never more lively than when he was upset.
“You’re so mean, Judar! Good-for-nothing priest!” Hakuryuu wails as he holds his face in his hands.
Judar, who is hunkered down closely in front of him to enjoy the show, only smiles gleefully and pinches hard at Hakuryuu’s cheeks.
“Hey, Hakuryuu, I’ll tell you a secret,” Judar stage whispers to him as he leans in closer. Hakuryuu stills his crying, rubs at his left eye and sniffs as a stray tear rolls down his face.
“You’re weak, but I like you! So don’t cry!”
And he does like him, likes his softness as much as he envies it.
As he kills and kills for Al-Thamen, twists his magic into marrow for the expansion of the empire, he thinks of Hakuryuu in the gardens with his mother and siblings, hands intertwined.
Their interactions as small children were fleeting and rare, usually cut short by Hakuren or Hakuyuu pulling Hakuryuu away, looking at Judar warily from the corners of their eyes as they retreated to the castle. Gyokuen would sometimes look on, her painted mouth curled in an unrelenting smile.
Once, on his way out of the castle he comes upon Hakuryuu as he is tending to a fallen baby bird. It’s a pitiable creature, with a twisted wing edged in blood. Hakuryuu sits alone under the sparse shade of a dove tree, cradling the twitching thing in his palms and lightly caressing its uninjured side with his thumb. Judar frowns.
“What are you doing that for? It’s only going to die.”
Hakuryuu starts and looks up at him, eyes glossy with unshed tears.
“I don’t, I don’t know how to fix it,” he says shakily, looking down at the bird in his hands. Then he glances toward Judar hopefully.
“Judar! You, you could heal her with your magic right? Just fix her wing, and she’ll be ok!”
Judar thinks for a moment, then kneels down, cups his palms together and holds them out. Hakuryuu brightens, the downturned edges of his mouth lessening, and gingerly places the bird in his hands like an offering.
“You’re so silly, Hakuryuu.” Judar says as he picks up the bird by the neck, between the forefinger and thumb of his left hand. It chirps in soft protest, and with a brief, effortless movement it stops moving forever.
Hakuryuu cries and cries over the bird's corpse, curls up next to its still body, and Judar walks away, exasperated. He thought killing the thing would give him Hakuryuu's undivided attention, partly wishes he could do that to everyone who takes Hakuryuu's focus away from him.
He's confused and mildly upset when Hakuryuu avoids him altogether after that. When Judar catches sight of him in the halls or courtyard, he wants to grab at him or pull at his hair, but now Hakuryuu is almost always accompanied by tutors and never around to play anymore.
Not long after, Judar is there to see Hakuryuu stumble out of his own death, blanketed in the blood of his beloved Hakuyuu, soft skin freshly marred.
Judar leans over Hakuryuu's still body, observing the medics who tend to him. He would heal him himself, but frankly he sucks at life magic. It's not been a priority for the organization to teach him any more of it. He wants to peel back the bandages and take a closer look at Gyokuen's handiwork, knows he absolutely could even with all these people around. He elects not to, wants to wait till their prying eyes are gone.
Judar quickly realizes that Hakuryuu's rukh is different, too. It's screaming in agony, yet it calls to Judar in a way it hadn't before, beckons him closer.
He grins down at Hakuryuu. This could be fun.
(When Hakuryuu finally opens his eyes months later, heavily disoriented and newly blinded in his left eye, Judar is surprised to see that he does not cry.)