Work Text:
Kouki Etou always had three people.
The Emperor was intelligent, with calculations that never failed. Soft-spoken and silver-tongued. He had the sharpest blue eyes. A halo of golden hair framing his face.
He was beautiful, and could easily be a divine, heaven-sent ruler.
But he would never have rose to such a magnitude, the most powerful person, molding the country to his liking, without his trusted retainers.
They had been with him through it all. Word went around that they have never left his side since he was a child, back from the time where no one paid attention to his lofty ambitions.
Now Kouki had the land in his iron grip, suffocating it just enough, not letting it crumble, just enough to breathe. Functional. And never once did he ever dirty his hands. His retainers wouldn’t let him.
No, Emperor Kouki always simply sat back on his throne, executed orders with flawless judgement. All he needed to do was speak, and his loyal guard dogs would see it done.
One was a bladed shadow, a reaper slipping through the streets and leaving death in his wake. His kills were silent and bloodless. The people knew, they always did. They recognized the green eyes in the dark that appeared before another mysterious disappearance or supposed suicide. But there was no evidence to use against him, and anyone who dared to speak out against the Emperor’s methods was silenced. Indefinitely.
He was the calmest one of the three. He was quick on his feet and also his wit, a voice of reason that assisted in the Emperor’s strategies. He had great endurance and would not hesitate in acting as a human shield. His body was littered with scars, each and every one a mark of pride from protecting the Emperor. For each injury he sustained, the Emperor would tend to him, cleaned his wounds, gently wrapped him up, stroked his dark hair as he murmured his gratitude. The Emperor would sing him to sleep, with that sweet, siren voice of his. He would be up and about the next day, ready to fight again.
One was poison-tongued, in every sense of the word. A silver-haired beauty who talked the people into fear and submission. He settled every verbal dispute with a victory for the Emperor. A venomous snake who worked behind the scenes, he had mastered the art of toxins and poisons. He wore disguises and impersonated, sweet-talked and seduced, gracefully sowing deadly substances onto food, clothes, homes.
His every word was poison, even towards his fellow retainers, but they would turn to honey whenever he addressed the Emperor. He was also the Emperor’s personal poison tester. Many attempts had been made at the Emperor’s life, and that included the indirect ones. The first time he had ingested poison, it had been hell. But he took comfort in knowing that the Emperor would be safe. He wondered, if he would still be useful to his dear Emperor once he developed a complete immunity after so much toxins had piled up in his body. When he voiced that thought, the Emperor held him in an embrace and reassured him that he would always be needed.
The third one was the most mysterious. He looked completely ordinary and unassuming, with his tousled, earthy hair. One could even mistake him for a peasant, if not for the unnerving glint in his eyes that seemed to hide something. He was known for his bewitching musical skill, some whispered that he was a descendant of the fae. He could make others do his bidding as long as it was weaved into a melodious tale. He could carefully erase memories and implement false ones with his tunes. How the Emperor treasured him so.
The Emperor had picked him up, a homeless orphan boy with only a song to spare, from the streets so long ago. The boy had sworn his allegiance and loyalty ever since. He would tell the Emperor stories of far-off lands every night and sing the most enchanting lullabies. In the palace of darkness and death, he was a singular pure force, a source of joy. The Emperor held him and kissed him and showered him in affection, going on about how wonderful he was, and in turn he would wax poetic about the Emperor being his lovely muse and his solitary light.
They were the only people the Emperor trusted. They were the only ones he ever needed. As long as they were around, his eternal empire stood strong. They would do their jobs, return to the palace, and they would be rewarded by Kouki’s splendid praises. They would be utterly spoiled, held by his warmth, hear him sing in that beautiful voice, and there was nothing more they could ever want.
They would kill for him.
They would die for him.
They loved him.
Did he love them?
Only the Emperor knew.