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Daichi pulls the thick blanket over himself and wraps it tighter in attempt to warm himself up more, inching closer to the hearth that a short, younger boy with a ginger hair is keeping alive by throwing kindling, all while occasionally glancing at Daichi.
Daichi couldn’t be more thankful being surrounded by heat again. He used to hate it, the heat that is, because he’s never experienced anything else, working in the forges and all. He’d always dreamt of escaping its suffocating confines and smell of melting metal. He had wanted to experience breathing fresh air and know the smell of the sea, the lush greens of the forest and feel the winter winds against his skin. But having experienced all of that in what he considers a hard-pressed journey almost to the point of dying of cold because the North is upholding its reputation, more so than what he thought, he would do anything to be sweating out again.
“Here, have some soup,” Sugawara offers him a steaming bowl, and Daichi’s stomach grumbles and he couldn’t get his hands out fast enough to cradle it. The warmth escaping the wooden bowl was a welcome comfort especially for Daichi’s freezing hands. He says a soft thank you, before he starts slurping the soup, burning his tongue at the first spoonful because of his haste.
When his belly is warm enough and his mind more lucid, he’s more aware of the other people around him, all looking at him at varying state of polite hesitance to unconcealed awe. They all look away when he meets their eyes, focusing on their own bowls instead, but he’s sure they all have some words at the tip of their tongue, but he feigns ignorance.
It’s a strange group, their lot. He’d met the tall, gruff one, Asahi, beforehand, when he pretended to be commissioning a weapon for his master and had taken him aside in the guise of discussing the details and payment, but once out of earshot had a completely different message for him -declared that he knows Daichi’s lineage and that it’s only a matter of time before others, the enemies do; that his life is in danger and that he should come with him, with them because they’re going to keep him safe, they are his only hope.
They, who, at this point still even after meeting them all, Daichi cannot pinpoint which of the seven kingdoms had come from. He never cared much for politics and to which powerful family belongs which members, he could care less about that, but he’s pretty sure that the variation of hair colors and physical features means that they’re far removed from each other’s lineages, and don’t belong to only one kingdom.
“You must have a lot of questions.” Sugawara asks, watching him. “About who you really are and why we’ve taken you. But rest assured that we are your allies and we’re here to protect you and help you get back what’s rightfully yours.”
“I don’t even know what’s rightfully mine,” Daichi admits. “Since we began this journey, all I have are doubts and questions that keep on growing every day and gives me sleepless nights. I want to understand.” He’s still wary, but he shows them that he will listen.
Sugawara and Asahi share a look, then Sugawara nods. Asahi slips a stack of parchments out from a rucksack sitting on the floor beside him and hands it over to Daichi, which he takes slowly.
“We’ve received this a few months ago which led us to look for you.”
Daichi frowns but unfurls it nonetheless and reads through. It wasn’t exactly a letter, like he’d expected, but accounts, multiple ones in chronological order, detailing the aftermath of the coup that happened 25 years ago. He’s halfway reading the third page when he’d realized that what he’s reading are ripped out journal pages.
Thoughts and knowledge and experiences of who Daichi realizes later is the man he grew up to know as his father, but had eventually abandoned them. That his entries are about his mother –the princess of the overthrown and betrayed king, and with growing dread, him –the rightful heir and ruler and had to be kept safe. All of the entry though soaked with obvious fear would always be littered with hope and promises of the prince restoring his family’s honor and eventually the peace in all the Seven Kingdoms.
Daichi doesn’t finish reading, couldn’t bear to, as his mind starts spinning around the possibilities, the weight of the words, the recollections that swiftly and abruptly changed his life. If proven to be true.
“You…” he starts. “I’m not- I don’t… This isn’t about me. I’m not. I can’t be,” he throws the pages down on the floor.
“I understand that you may find it hard to believe,” Sugawara says, picking up the papers. “But it’s the truth.”
“These letters are hardly proof of any truth you’re speaking of!” Daichi shouts, standing up, the blanket falling behind him. “That could be referring to anyone!”
“You bear a striking resemblance to the late King,” Tsukishima interjects from his place in the far corner, the dancing flames reflected on his glasses and light blond hair. “I was studying to be a Meister and had seen portraits of royals during my time as apprentice. Your likeness is uncanny.” He also proceeds to describe the princess, and Daichi swallows the lump on his throat at how it matches his mother.
“That doesn’t prove anything.” Daichi insists.
Sugawara sighs. “You’re right. No one alive during that time can help us. All the allies of the king were executed and killed. All from the different families of the Seven Kingdoms, noble and otherwise, no exemptions. We know this because some of us come from them. No one was spared, not even with promises of loyalty and fealty to him, the current king made sure of that no one can know that someone can contest his claim. We only have portraits he doesn’t know exist hidden in the forbidden section of the Citadel and accounts from a dead man,” he waves the paper in his hand. “And you.”
“And we need you,” Asahi adds, somber. “It wasn’t uncommon for family members to betray one another. A lot of people got into power through that. But in the years he’d been on the throne, the king had turned a lot of people against each other and had laid waste in this once great country. He made blood ties meaningless, family names and connections useless. But he didn’t anticipate that in the division he created, a stronger bond between people would form.
“That’s why we’re here,” he stares at Daichi. “This family we’ve created for ourselves would fight until we can and we’d like you to do it with us.”
“What you’re asking for is…” Daichi couldn’t even finish, thoughts too jumbled and feelings too conflicted.
“A lot, we know,” Sugawara concedes. “But we’ve been gearing ourselves up for this revolution for a while now. We could’ve done it without you. We didn’t know of your existence until a few months ago. But now, we’d like to believe that the Old Gods and the New have blessed us because you are here.”
Daichi still isn’t thoroughly convinced. And he knows that what he says next is rash and impulsive, too raw and sudden but still he breathes deep and squares his shoulders, looks them all in the eyes and says “What do I need to do?”