Work Text:
* * *
The air is sweet and the day warm, as Abe walks through the twelfth city. Everything is bright and clean – the pale cobbles of the street are well-scrubbed, and he makes his way past several pretty little terraced gardens on his way up the slow incline toward the palace on the hill. It's a welcoming place. Strangers smile and nod at him, even with his plain clothes, even as he makes his way into the nobility's residential district as a nobody.
It feels as if he's on a pleasant vacation.
But walking on foot reminds Abe that he's left his mount behind at the capital – sweet gelding that he was, Abe never had owned the horse outright – and that he has left his old post behind. This isn't a vacation. This is the beginning of the rest of Abe's life, away from the capital's hectic bustle, away from the demands that grew to be too much. Abe is only one man, and he only intended to be one part of the Emperor's protection detail. He never meant to take on more responsibility than that.
He'll never serve that prince again, particular and demanding as he was. He never meant to serve him in the first place, not personally. But Abe is loyal to his Emperor, and ever since seeing the few members of the guard who would always visit his hometown in the first kingdom, back when he was only a boy, Abe wanted to join their ranks. He was clever enough, and quick enough, and knew he could make the right, smart decisions. He wanted to belong to that group of capable protectors, not be at the beck and call of a single prince.
He'll be serving a prince again, but this time he plans to make the assignment work for him.
Abe reaches the palace, sprawling sandstone complex that it is, made up of so many open terraces and private gardens and rooms hidden behind rooms, and submits himself to be announced to the reigning lord. There's a finality to it – upon being presented, he is once again swearing loyalty to a crown. But this is the twelfth kingdom, smallest in the Empire, and its demands on him should not be so great.
One crown prince should not be so different from another, and Abe already knows how to deal with princes. He knows how to deal with lords and formalities, and even when his liege's personal adviser takes him aside for a quiet confidence, Abe doesn't consider that to be so strange. Assassination attempts are just another thing he's dealt with before.
* * *
Abe waits outside the prince's antechamber, standing smartly in his new uniform like he's minding the post.
But he isn't standing guard. He's bracing himself, settling into the best possible state of mind to meet his ward for the first time. He knows how to deal with princes, yes, but this is the beginning of the next few years of his life. He needs them to get off on the right foot.
Abe breathes in deep, turns around, and pushes open the door to the antechamber. He gets one step through the door before he's greeted with an anguished squeak, as the boy in the room flinches away from his intrusion.
He doesn't look very much like a prince. He's tousle-headed and skinny, looking all the smaller as he shrinks back on the low couch where he'd been sitting. His clothes are simple linen, not the ostentatious garb Abe might have expected of the kingdom's crown prince, but as he looks up at Abe, his eyes are intensely bright.
He relaxes after a moment – Abe thinks it comes at recognizing Abe's clothes, dressed as he now is like any other member of the twelfth kingdom's guard – but it's only minutely. He takes himself off high alert but there's still a wariness there, an uncertainty of expectation.
Abe remembers what the lord's adviser told him: prince Mihashi has recently undergone an attempt on his life. He remembers what she told him next, too, with her hand on his shoulder, with her palm over his hand. Be gentle with Mihashi, she had said. He isn't really so hard to handle.
"I'm Abe," he says, trying to be patient, trying not to be harsh. "Your new bodyguard."
"I-I'm Mihashi," the prince stutters. "Mihashi Ren. The... the crown... prince."
Abe has to bite back the remark that he knows that already, of course he knows who he's been hired to protect. The way Mihashi trails off from his introduction, though, nervous and insecure, reminds him not to snap.
He can't believe this boy is going to grow into the role of being in charge of anything.
"We should get to know each other," Abe says. "Since I'll be working for you for a while."
He's slow, as he moves across the room. He only knows how to move like a warrior – trained for that ever since he came to the capital in his youth, and honed all the more through service. All the motions he makes are efficient, certain, but he does his best not to spook the prince. He lets himself settle onto the couch's other side, sitting a little too stiffly on its fine, soft cushions.
"O-Okay!" Mihashi says. "I've never had a personal bodyguard before."
"Never?" Abe asks.
It comes to him as a surprise. He knows that Mihashi is the prince of the smallest kingdom and the son of the Empire's weakest lord, a noble who rarely if ever comes to serve in the Emperor's court. He knows that Mihashi is far down the line of succession, unlikely to ever wind up near the Empire's throne. But he's still a prince – surely he is worthy of some protection.
"No, never," Mihashi says. "Is that... Is that weird? D-Do you, I mean, you've d-done this before, haven't you?"
He sounds apologetic, like he's the one at fault for never having someone watch his back before. Like it's some extra strain on Abe, to acclimate him to the process of being personally guarded. Abe realizes he'll have to do that – he'll have to get Mihashi used to someone always being in his company, sitting in if he spends time with other nobles or riding with him if he goes out into the city. He won't be able to leave Mihashi alone. But that's Abe's job, and his responsibility.
"I was a bodyguard for someone else," Abe says. "In the capital."
Mihashi shrinks back again, and Abe regrets speaking so harshly, recognizes too late the roughness to his tone.
"It was fine," he says. "It wasn't a bad assignment."
Mihashi still looks doubtful, but like he's pressing himself to accept Abe's words. Abe doesn't want to talk about the Emperor's spoiled son, though, and stubbornly pushes on. This will be a better assignment – Mihashi is hardly setting himself up as someone who will make hefty demands of Abe.
"I've been doing this a while," Abe says. "I was a guard at the palace of the high court, and part of the third prince's retinue. You're not the first person I've been personally assigned to, so you don't have to worry."
If anything, the declaration of Abe's credentials just makes Mihashi look more uncertain, squirming and fidgeting on the bench.
Abe clenches his fist against the cushion, making himself stop to breathe in deep. He wants to stand behind someone worth supporting. He wants to guard a lord who does well by his people, so that Abe can be proud of what influence his position earns him. He wants Mihashi to stop looking at him with that caught-deer stare, eyes too wide and too bright for any kind of comfort.
He remembers the other thing the lord's adviser told him, before she let him go.
"I'll take care of you," Abe says, as he reaches across the couch to take Mihashi by the hand. His fingers close against the prince's, and squeeze for just a moment. "I'm going to protect you, so you only need to trust me."
"O-Okay!" Mihashi says, more decisively than before.
His fingers are cool and soft, and Abe thinks for a moment that it's just like a noble – to have delicate hands, not rough and clumsy like a farmer's, nor hard and weathered as a soldier. But then he squeezes Abe back, and for a moment his grip is firm, more certain that the piping rise of his voice.
"Okay," Mihashi says again, actually smiling at Abe so that it brightens his entire face. "I'll trust you."
"G-Good," Abe says, noticing too late that this time he's the one stumbling.
His hand feels too hot, curled against Mihashi's. If ever the twelfth palace is invaded, if ever the Empire's enemies choose to strike at its most inconsequential link, he'll hide Mihashi if he has to. He'll pull Mihashi by this same hand, lead him to whatever approximation of safety he can carve out.
He'll protect Mihashi from enemies within the Empire, too. He still doesn't know who was reckless enough to threaten the life of the twelfth kingdom's prince, nor does he know what kind of a political maneuver they were attempting to enact.
"We're going to have to spend a lot of time together," Abe says, trying to put aside politics just for the moment. He'd hoped to leave those machinations behind in the capital. "So we should get to know each other. Like I said."
"We could, um," Mihashi starts. "We could play a game. If you want."
Abe has to stop and consider that. If he were still dealing with the Empire's third prince, it wouldn't be a request for a game. They would go outside to spar, or perhaps to shoot. Or Abe would stand passively by, while the Empire's prince did whatever it was he alone chose to do.
"We can do that," Abe says. "Is there a particular game you'd like to play?"
"I-I have a couple," Mihashi says, stumbling before his excitement picks up. "Let me get them!"
He rushes into the next room, so quick that he almost trips. Abe doesn't even have time to question him; he can only watch the pale undersides of Mihashi's feet pulling away from his sandals as he pivots sharply enough to nearly trip. There comes the sound of shuffling from the next room over after he disappears inside.
"You can pick whichever one you like!" Mihashi announces, popping back into the antechamber. "I like all of them."
Abe is used to making decisions for his wards on a grander scale – is it safe for them to ride through the city, is it safe for them to embark on a hunting trip, would it be wise for more members of the guard to accompany a royal procession. Being given the gift of such a mundane choice is an unexpected novelty. It's more than the third prince ever cared to leave to him.
"Let me see them," Abe says, moving closer to the room's small table. He doesn't know if any of Mihashi's games are something he might have played before, living as a guard.
They turn out to all be games of strategy, with brightly-painted game boards and lovingly carved pieces, each with its carefully constructed rules and set goal. Abe doesn't know how to play any of them, but he does consider himself a fine strategist. He's a bit surprised, to discover that Mihashi has pinpoint precision, when it comes to knowing where to distribute his pieces on the board.
He'll be a more interesting lordling to guard than Abe was counting on at the start.
* * *
It's a fair day, bright and only a bit breezy, that finds Abe sitting out on one of the open terraces with Mihashi. He has papers spread before him, background on some of the twelfth kingdom's more visible nobles as gifted to him by the lord's primary adviser. Abe is more grateful to her than he's ever managed to say.
Since he's taken the bodyguard post, no one else has made an attempt on Mihashi's life, but the employer of the first would-be assassin still hasn't been unearthed. Abe is being vigilant. He'll figure out the source of the threat himself if he has to.
Mihashi is practicing a speech for some upcoming formal dinner, a political event the likes of which Abe knew he would never truly escape. He stumbles over his words as Abe listens, squeaking a little when he realizes he's made a mistake only for his voice to go higher when he corrects himself. His hands shake against the paper he's reading from, so that it rustles like leaves in the wind.
"Mihashi," Abe says, sternly enough to catch the prince's attention.
Mihashi stops in his tracks, head turning to catch Abe in his too-bright stare, mouth just starting to work again like he's building up to some explanation. Abe reaches across the table, places his hand over top of one of Mihashi's where its folded around the papers.
"I-I'm sorry," Mihashi says, but his hand releases the pages so they drift to the tabletop, tilts on its side to accept the touch of Abe's fingers.
Abe squeezes Mihashi's hand, before reaching over with his other arm to pluck up the page Mihashi was reading from. "It'll be alright," he says, a bit gruffly. "You'll manage your speech for the dinner. I'll help you."
It's not in his job description, to read his prince lines from a page so that Mihashi can parrot them back, slowly going through the whole speech until it comes smoothly, clearly. But it feels natural. Abe leaves his free hand curled against Mihashi's, feeling the warmth of their joined fingers throbbing like a heartbeat.
He's only been at his new post a few months. But it feels like longer, like long enough for Abe to believe he's found the position worth staying with. Mihashi smiles at him, after reading his speech through perfectly, and Abe knows he's found someone worth supporting with every resource that he has.
* * *