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Sakusa thinks that saving the King from one assassination attempt hardly means he’s warranted a promotion as the King’s Royal Shadow. Miya Atsumu is the King. He must have hundreds of attempts on his life.
If it were anyone else posted on guard outside, Sakusa is sure it would have been them appointed as the Royal Shadow instead of Sakusa himself. All he did was hear the intruder through Atsumu’s closed doors, a second pair of feet sliding out from underneath the bed when the only pair that should be in there had just settled into the bed.
Sakusa had wrenched the door open and wrenched the knife out of their hands; he finds it unfortunate that the assassin had fought to kill, because their wounds left a terrible stain on Atsumu’s bedsheets, and Sakusa couldn’t even get any information out of them before it was clear either he was going to die or the assassin would.
But the King requested it of him, so it’s not like he can say no.
“The Royal Shadow,” Atsumu had drawled, pulling on a robe after asking for the stained sheets to be exchanged for clean ones and laundered. “Sounds like somethin’ out of a fairy tale, huh? I promise it’s got legacy n’ history n’ all that. You’ll get it. For now, all I can say is y’follow me around everywhere. My shadow, startin’ now. What’s your name, sir knight?”
“Sakusa Kiyoomi, Your Grace,” he said.
“Omi-kun,” Atsumu replied, with a smug little grin that made Sakusa wonder if he should’ve at least tried saying no. “Truly pleased t’meet ya, and truly grateful that I get to live another day. I look forward to seeing you when the sun’s up, Royal Shadow.”
Sakusa spent the night at his post outside Atsumu’s room wondering what exactly he’d gotten himself into.
He’s aware of who His Grace is, obviously. Miya Atsumu is one of two crown princes of Inarizaki, formerly the nation of Yako before it expanded by combining with Mino, its long-time rival country, after a long bout of war. The second crown prince is his twin Osamu; their coronation was after tuberculosis had taken their parents, the King and Queen. Yako and Mino remain the same save for the border between them being torn down. Atsumu and Osamu were coronated together once they turned 21, with the former taking rulership of Yako and the latter taking Mino after agreeing to a betrothal with a Mino aristocrat, Suna Rintarou.
During the war, Sakusa was a child; but by the time the war was over, the newly minted Inarizaki under the Gemini Kings needed soldiers, and he joined the knighthood after training as a squire to support his family. He remembers Atsumu through several occasions while serving as part of the royal knights.
One memory is coming across Atsumu in the stables pressed up against a smaller man; Hinata Shouyou of Karasuno, if he remembers correctly, but that’s only the first of a string of lovers Atsumu has pulled along with his sly smiles and charm around the castle.
Another is making the rounds in the city square during his patrol shift and coming across a commoner with dark hair that looked eerily like Osamu, but not quite. Sakusa had carefully shifted his attention and was caught by said stranger staring right at him before departing. Sakusa recognized one of the senior knights in disguise, Ojiro Aran, following this man and figured it was the King dressed as a commoner to escape the pressures of ruling for a night.
The third memory is blending into the tapestry of one of the ballrooms in the castle, on duty and keeping an eye on all the guests. Sakusa had found his attention involuntarily held by Atsumu, only because Atsumu had flitted around the room as a butterfly, flirting and dancing with most people in the room, almost to the point Sakusa thought he’d take a server for a twirl on the ballroom floor.
Sakusa has always been on the periphery of Miya Atsumu. Saving him from the attack brings Sakusa right into Atsumu’s orbit.
What Sakusa sees is a sleaze, a slacker, and a seducer. It’s to be expected of a royal.
This view changes once he is The Royal Shadow. In custom pitch-black clothes and armor, Sakusa dutifully trails behind Atsumu into all his meetings, spars with him on the training grounds, rides out with him on horses to other countries, and above all, gets to know Atsumu.
The first thing he learns is how impossibly busy Atsumu is. He carries around a little notebook with his schedules, but other meetings drag on or get cancelled because Atsumu must entertain his diplomats out of politeness or inspect the lands himself. Sakusa begins at first to catalog changes to Atsumu’s schedule mentally, but eventually takes the notebook out of Atsumu’s hands so he can update and take notes himself as an unofficial secretary.
The second thing is that Atsumu, surprisingly, wants to know what Sakusa thinks. Of everything. The weather, the fellow aristocrats of neighbouring nations, his footing in the training yard, the numerous balls Atsumu and Osamu attend, the chandeliers of all the ballrooms they step into.
“Th’ advisors might think The Royal Shadow is meant t’be seen n’ not heard, but what good are you followin’ me around for if I can’t talk to ya’ about anythin’?” Atsumu presses his hands against a balcony railing after setting down a glass of wine.
Sakusa does not say anything in reply since the Head Knight and several chancellors had made sure he knew being the Shadow meant he was a shadow – a silent presence.
Atsumu casts a look at him. “Omi-kun. I don’t know what my chancellors have said t’you about this position, but you know the goin’s on of this nation just as much as I do.” He sighs, rolls his shoulders. “I don’t want t’order you into talkin’. I would appreciate any counsel you have for me. At the very least, I’d like a friend; ruling is a lonely task, as y’can see.”
Osamu’s absence is keenly felt, even when the twins spend leisure time together multiple times a week.
“I didn’t think the counsel you wanted from me included my opinion on the tapestries hung in the great hall of Kamomedai, Your Grace,” Sakusa says.
Atsumu barks out a laugh. “Oh, you’ve got a tongue on ya. I chose well. Also, it’s no reflection on Korai, but gulls as part of the crest is an interestin’ choice. My fondest memories of gulls are ones where they chased ‘Samu and I down the beach for our food.”
“The seagull symbolizes persistence and perseverance,” Sakusa replies.
Atsumu swirls the wine in his glass. “How diplomatic, Omi-Omi. Y’sure you wouldn’t want to be King instead?”
Sakusa reaches to open the door. “I wouldn't be suited for it. You haven’t heard the extent of my tongue, Your Grace.” They re-enter the great hall to watch Hoshiumi Korai, prince of Kamomedai, laugh loudly and challenge Kageyama and Hinata to another horse race.
Atsumu grins at him, sharp and sly. “Ah, that means it’ll never get borin’ around here.”
The third thing he learns is that Atsumu truly, genuinely loves ruling, cares about his people like they’re his family. But with his days shut in meeting rooms both in his castle and in other nations, it makes it difficult to truly gauge what his people think of him.
“Yacchan, g’mornin’,” Atsumu mumbles, yawning into his breakfast. Yachi Hitoka is one of the head chefs of the castle and arguably the reason the food in the castle is appetizing; she and Atsumu coordinate frequently on the menus as she hand delivers breakfast even when she doesn’t have to.
Yachi curtsies. “Good morning, Your Grace, Royal Shadow!” Sakusa nods and pulls the chair out for her to sit across from Atsumu.
“How’re the stores, Yacchan?”
She taps her chin. “We should be fine until just after the harvest season. We’ll prepare to smoke fish and meats for the winter. Do you think there are enough funds to purchase some more salt?”
The conversation continues in this manner until Atsumu switches the topic after finishing his plate of oats, sausage, and fruit. “And the castle? No one’s lacking anythin’?”
“As far as I know, peachy! It’s been hard to keep up, what with that banquet in two weeks,” she says, apologetic. Atsumu is shaking his head before she finishes her sentence.
“Don’tcha worry ‘bout it. ‘M sure if there was a problem, it’d be here by now, but y’know how little things can pile up until there’s a mountain of a problem. Thank you for breakfast, Yacchan.”
Sakusa makes notes about the salt. Once Yachi has taken the tray with her, he asks, “Who should I speak to about your spies?”
Atsumu blinks at Sakusa. “Me. There are a few I deploy to the other countries as diplomats.”
“How do you get anything done,” Sakusa grouses, and Atsumu chuckles while pressing the tips of his fingers gently against his closed eyelids.
“What d’you need spies for, Omi-Omi? Haven’t y’heard ‘Samu and I have ushered in an age of peace?”
“You want to know what the castle and the public think of you and the kingdom to act in their best interest. We’ll establish a network, for whatever whispers are present.”
Atsumu hums. “Plant some in the artisan and merchant guilds. Blacksmithing, bookbinders, leathermakers. Perhaps the farmers. Unrest can start there, sometimes.”
“Yes, Your Grace. I’ll summarize reports at the end of each week so that we can adjust your council meetings according to priority.” Sakusa jots down more notes and realizes Atsumu’s notebook is more his now, with schedules for the both of them and reminders of tasks to handle.
Atsumu chuckles again. “Y’see? You got it after all, Royal Shadow.”
Sakusa’s understanding of Atsumu changes once again when they return to the palace after traveling out to western lands that are fit for agriculture and distributing seeds and starters for the new farmers that emigrated to the country. An attendant has just left after setting a tray down for a late dinner, Sakusa closing the door behind her and positioning himself to keep guard.
He watches Atsumu heave a deep sigh and press his thumbs into his temples. He freezes when Atsumu’s eyes slide open to fix on him.
“Omi, c’mere.”
“Your Grace?”
“I can’t stand ya bein’ all the way over there.”
“You’re seated,” Sakusa says, and gets a flash of teeth as a reward. He tries not to smile.
Atsumu continues waving him over. “Taste these.”
“Your Grace, you haven’t eaten all day – ”
“Neither have you, since that council meetin’ ran over your usual break at the mess hall,” Atsumu counters. “You know the chatter about assassins. Wouldja’ rather your monarch drop dead?”
Sakusa bristles at both the implication that he’d let Atsumu die and at how Atsumu has him trapped.
He takes a seat in the chair across from Atsumu and glowers at Atsumu’s smug smile. He remains impassive as Atsumu slices him bits from each dish. They look truly delicious, and involve more variety than the typical protein and vegetable dishes provided at the mess hall.
“Braised duck, jasmine rice, savoury pork and vegetable pancakes, soybean paste soup,” Atsumu points. “A light cake for dessert with strawberries grown in the glass greenhouses. How does this taste?” He holds out a spoon of rice and duck at Sakusa.
“I can ask for another set of cutleries, Your Grace.”
“Nah, not when you’re eatin’ so little of each piece. Before it gets cold, Omi-Omi, I’m starvin’.” Atsumu wiggles the spoon and Sakusa steadies the bite by lifting his fingers up to press against Atsumu’s. The savoury, rich scent spreads on his tongue, and Atsumu laughs at his expression of wonder before he can control it.
“Good, right? Let’s visit the kitchens once we’re done here so I can share compliments to the staff. Taste the wine, too.” Atsumu moves back, and Sakusa fights the dizzying scent of food mixed with the perfume dabbed against Atsumu’s wrist.
Atsumu begins eating the rice and duck now that Sakusa hasn’t dropped dead. “What did you think of the negotiations about the grain crops today?”
Sakusa sets the wine glass down. “The chancellors will not be pleased once they hear you refused to tax the new farmers for the seeds.”
“I don’t need taxes, I need oats,” Atsumu says, holding up a square of meat and vegetable slices on a skewer. “It’s not like the families don’t know they’re under a contract. Humans must eat to survive. Instead of taxes, their lives are collateral.”
“I wasn’t disagreeing with you,” Sakusa replies, after a bite of the pancake. “But the nobles are very set on their gold.”
Atsumu snorts. “Both the coin and the beer brewed on the west side of the country. Part of the seeds given today were barley, so that there is plenty of alcohol come harvest time along with the rest of the crops that will feed all of us this winter. I trust I won’t hear complaints about taxes once their glasses are full.”
The evening and further meals as time goes by progress the same. Under the pretenses of food tasting for poison, Atsumu feeds Sakusa parts of his meals and they discuss treaties and trades and Sakusa provides his best counsel with a side of gossip from his spies.
Sakusa learns that Atsumu wants to take care of him, too. He isn’t sure what to do with that.
Outside of what arguably are dates – he and Atsumu generally talk business for most of it, so Sakusa does not consider them anything but business – being The Royal Shadow means he’s with Atsumu for all types of business, royal or not. He feels incredibly lost as Atsumu stains his bleached hair with a darker colour and Sakusa is made to leave several weapons behind as he sheds his black armor for loose, plain robes.
Every now and then, Atsumu makes his way into the heart of the city disguised as a commoner. Recalling that he has seen Atsumu and a royal guard before in disguise, Sakusa is curious what Atsumu gets up to that he would also want a member of the guard with him instead of sneaking out alone.
“Omi, we’ll have to purchase some lye in at the night market before heading to the city’s square. And get some street food! The meat skewers are heaven sent, prob’ly.”
Sakusa is trying to strap as many small knives to his person as possible under the commoner’s clothing he wears. He’s already fastened daggers to his shin above each ankle plus a belt underneath the shirt and currently has his sleeves rolled up to fasten sheaths to his forearms.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“’Nd wrap that hair up,” Atsumu says. “I’m unbearably fond of those curls, but as the Royal Shadow they’re fairly recognizable.”
Sakusa nods and wraps his hair underneath a bandana, pushing it away from his forehead and hiding it underneath.
“Missed one,” Atsumu says, and is suddenly closer than he’s ever been before. Sakusa stops breathing as Atsumu tucks an errant curl away.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Sakusa says, surprisingly steady. “What is our purpose in the city square tonight?”
“Just to listen,” Atsumu murmurs. “We can learn a lot through that. You already know this, spymaster, but hearsay can only go so far.”
The night is spent eating Atsumu’s favourite street food delicacies and standing nearby as Atsumu converses with the public. Sakusa recognizes some of the members of the spy network present, but without his signature armor, no one truly pays attention to him, especially when the dark-haired adventurer that visits sparingly spins tales about hunting trips and knows nearly everyone in the square.
Sakusa keeps listening. There are some rumours of revolts in neighbouring kingdoms, concerns about whether there will be a drought this year that’ll devastate the new crops, desires to do well for their King. Happy sighs at peace with worries about the royal twins and a war between them dissipating because Osamu and Atsumu are the just rulers that they’ve hoped for after their parents were taken so suddenly by the fever.
Sakusa files this information away for later. He keeps his eye on Atsumu, nursing a very watered down ale and changing positions in the square every now and then to hear different opinions. When the fires die down, Atsumu takes his leave, and Sakusa silently falls into step behind him.
He hands over a pale bar of soap once they have returned to Atsumu’s rooms. “Lye, Your Grace.”
“Thank ya, Omi-Omi. I completely forgot. So? Anythin’ interestin?” Atsumu shucks off his layers, coiling the clothing in a pile that he shoves away in a drawer and moving into the bathroom.
Sakusa takes his post outside the door. “You might want to consider searching for more water springs. Some fear a drought this year.”
The most important thing Sakusa learns is that he is wrong about Atsumu. His initial impressions of Atsumu frivolously drinking and partying are restructured for what they are: a persona. Atsumu sharpens parts of himself until they can be wielded in different ways – playboy prince, a commoner concerned about his community, the ruler of a nation.
Sakusa doesn’t believe that rulership is bestowed upon the worthy by the gods. Atsumu is not an exception – rulership is bestowed on those who are lucky enough to be born into it after it is established with an iron fist and bloodshed.
But what it takes to rule a nation is different to divine intervention. It is borne of hard work, harder decisions, and an innate desire to care for the people in the nation itself.
Atsumu has all of these, charismatic and confident and then some.
“Omi-kun. Where are the cucumbers for my eyes,” Atsumu says, strolling back in with a playful amount of menace. His hair is back to its light blond shade from the soap.
“I fed them to the rabbits that Yachi raises. They were just drying up in your sinkbasin.”
Atsumu pauses, then points his nose upwards and waves Sakusa away loftily.
“A sacrifice of beauty I’ll just have to make for the rabbits. We’ll take a detour tomorrow to say hello to them and Yacchan.” A genuine smile and wave. “Goodnight, Omi-Omi.”
“Rest well, Your Grace,” Sakusa says, and steps out of the room only to stop outside of the doorway and lean against the closed doors. He blows out a sigh before straightening to assume the first night watch, trying not to think about the soft smile pulling at the corners of Atsumu's mouth when he held up a skewer for Sakusa to try first, the same smile as all the times he has lifted food up for Sakusa to try.
He isn’t sure if he does a good job of it.
Sakusa is returning to the conference room from a quick break and notices Atsumu has not finished his discussion with his advisors on the subject of marriage.
This grievance is brought to the table once every several weeks, at which Sakusa takes the time to take a break and allow Atsumu his privacy on potential partners. It seems a little unnecessary to give Atsumu privacy on this topic because Sakusa knows literally everything else about him, but Sakusa feels that this is a topic meant for Atsumu and his advisors alone.
Sakusa is about to enter the room, but freezes and steps lightly when he hears his title mentioned.
“That Shadow,” one advisor hisses. “You have appointed him on a complete whim, Your Grace. You mean to tell us he has all this influence on your appointments? State secrets? For a nobody? Your Grace, this is too much for a guard.”
“Sakusa Kiyoomi is not a simple guard, Chancellor,” Atsumu says. “What does the Shadow have anythin’ to do with my marriage?”
“It would be best to delegate his duties to your consort,” another advisor says. “Someone that has more history, influence, and strength than a mere knight. It is clear to the nobles that he is more than a glorified secretary. He could be bribed to work against you, Your Grace.”
Atsumu scoffs, incredulous. “As if my noble spouse could not be bribed as well. You have seen the Shadow spar against me in the training yard, have y’not? He was part of the royal guard retinue for a reason before I appointed him as Royal Shadow. He is also spymaster of this kingdom – he has already thwarted several further attempts on my life. He carries an antidote for poisons on him even now, as requested by the chief medical examiners in the palace.”
“It makes him dangerous, Your Grace, to know so much about this nation, to have such proximity to you. You must marry so that possible unrest is quieted by the presence of a consort that can shoulder the crown with you. It would cement peace, especially if it’s to a leader of another land.”
“I trust him,” Atsumu says, with a deadly quiet tone. “I’ll marry when I’m ready to. Right now, we need to keep this country from starvin’ this winter.”
Sakusa waits a few more beats before he enters the room to stand just behind Atsumu’s head chair as the conversation shifts to the hunting parties and grain stores.
Over brunch in Atsumu’s chambers, Sakusa is ready to discuss the deployment of hunting parties until Atsumu asks, “I knew you were listenin’ when we talked about my marriage. Who d’you think I should get married to, Omi-kun?”
Sakusa stops at the dining table and watches Atsumu stroll over to his balcony. He says, dryly, “Anyone who will overlook the many dalliances you have had before marriage, Your Grace.”
Atsumu shrugs and smiles. “My partners and I all knew it was for fun, Omi-Omi. This time it’s serious. Humour me, hm?”
“What criteria should I use to evaluate the potential candidates, Your Grace?”
“None that can rival my good looks,” Atsumu starts, and laughs when Sakusa snorts.
Atsumu pauses. His eyes shift, wistful, almost melancholy, as he crosses his arms and stares out.
“I’d like to marry someone I trust. Someone I care about, who knows me as I am and wants me for that. Land, wealth, heirs – these can always be figured out. But my consort would be a partner through and through. It has to be someone I trust.”
Sakusa recalls various parties and diplomatic negotiations in his mind’s eye, with faces of who are eligible in both relationship status and of high enough royal status to marry into the royal family.
The redhead Atsumu was tangled with comes to mind. “Hinata Shouyou?”
“Karasuno,” Atsumu hums. “Shouyou’s a gem, we had a great time. But you’re a little behind on your court gossip, Omi-Omi – he and Kageyama Tobio of Kitigawa Daiichi have just announced their betrothal.”
“I thought Kageyama could also be a candidate.”
“That bastard,” Atsumu says, with affection. “I like needlin’ Tobio, and he’s a formidable warrior. Ultimately, he n’ Shouyou are suited, what with their airborne tactics at war and wild love for each other notwithstanding. Didja’ know they started their courtship over an argument on who was best at hawking?”
“It sounds about right for them.”
“Indeed. Any others?”
“Ushijima Wakatoshi of Shiratorizawa.”
“Seems to like horses more than people.”
“Your Grace,” Sakusa says, admonishing, and Atsumu smothers a laugh into one hand.
“Forgive me, Omi-Omi. It’s all we can talk about. I think he has ties to his head chef, however. Tendou.”
“Terushima Yuji, Johzenji.”
“A little too similar to me. Can y’imagine two of me? He’s the life of the party, regardless.” Atsumu glares when Sakusa raises his eyebrows. “I can be introspective!”
“Daishou Suguru, Nohebi.”
“I don’t know if I can trust that man with state secrets. Forked tongue, that one.”
“Shimizu Kiyoko, noblewoman from Karasuno.”
Atsumu whistles. “Beautiful and smart, didja’ not hear me when I said no one that could rival my looks? I think she’s bein’ courted by Ryuunosuke, anyway.”
Sakusa can’t think of anyone else, until suddenly, some part of him whispers:
Me.
Sakusa Kiyoomi, knight, secretary, spymaster; Atsumu’s confidante, companion, counselor. His right hand. His shadow. The Royal Shadow.
Someone I trust, he hears Atsumu say.
Sakusa notices his mouth is still open and he clamps it shut to prevent anything from escaping.
“No one else? Ah, well. There’s still time.” Atsumu nods at the attendant at the door who comes in with a heavy tray. Sakusa mechanically pulls out the seat at the table for Atsumu, who collapses into it, reaching for the wine.
Sakusa does not miss that Atsumu pours higher than he should in the one glass on the tray, an amount meant for sharing.
“Have you ever fallen in love, Omi-kun?”
Yes, with you, I don’t know when, Sakusa thinks, and he swallows to keep it lodged in his throat.
“No, Your Grace.” He takes a seat when Atsumu gestures to the chair and hopes Atsumu stays oblivious to his revelation.
Atsumu twirls a fork in his hand. “A shame. With how you put up with me, you’re halfway t’sainthood.” He carves a sliver off the beef wellington, careful to carry pastry and meat on the fork, and lifts it towards Sakusa.
Atsumu's voice rings in his head. I trust him.
“So?”
Sakusa leans in and takes the bite, teeth sliding against the tines of the fork. He holds it in his mouth, chews, swallows.
“Delicious as usual, Your Grace.”
It goes down bitter.
Sakusa closes his emotions into his chest and locks them in there. He is The Royal Shadow, and there are council meetings to attend, whispers from his spies to address, murder attempts to prevent, and food to taste.
All the food tasting Sakusa has done has honed his skill in what normal food looks like – meat in various rarities, sauces, vegetables carved to look like animals, you name it. It unfortunately comes in handy.
Atsumu is hosting a dinner to welcome the hunting parties back from a successful hunt. Sakusa stands behind his right shoulder, as usual, as a pork dish is served with a dark sauce to the table. The nobles clamor to honor Atsumu with the first slice; Sakusa shifts his roaming gaze from the room down to the table.
There is a sheen to the food that was not there in the samples that Yachi had served Atsumu as they planned the menu for this banquet. He steps up to the table to interrupt Atsumu from taking a bite, and his looming height makes the guests glance up as if they have noticed his presence for the first time.
“The servants have already taken their meals before the banquet,” one noble protests. “Sneaking food in plain sight? This is just greed.”
Atsumu smiles at Sakusa, who takes this as permission to say, “Hardly, when His Grace has had three attempts on his life in the past month alone.”
Atsumu lifts the fork to Sakusa’s mouth.
It’s tangy, so good that it could almost blend with the vinaigrette.
Almost.
Sakusa tastes each part of the plate before he notices his vision is blurring. He turns to Atsumu, gripping his shoulder to the point of pain, whilst his other hand fumbles for the antidote vial and its needle attachment. Atsumu is on his feet and shouting for the medics as Sakusa drops to his knees and vomits a mixture of bile and blood.
Two hands slide over the back of his neck to keep him facing the ground so that he doesn’t choke on the blood dripping from his nose and clogging his throat. Sakusa glances up anyway, into Atsumu’s eyes.
“Kiyoomi,” Atsumu is saying, and the fury on his face is like the sun breaking over the horizon. “I will find who did this. The medics are here ‘nd you’re goin’ to be just fine, y’hear? You die on me and I’ll kill you myself – this is an order, Kiyoomi.”
“I trust you,” Sakusa says, and means I love you, and the world goes dark after that.
Sakusa wakes up to Atsumu holding a meeting in the medical wing of the castle next to his bed.
“ – and I won’t hear another word on it, not until he’s awake n’ lucid.”
The words feel like sand in his throat, but they come out anyway. “Still can’t do anything without me?”
Atsumu’s head snaps towards him and his shock melts into relief before a smirk turns the corners of his mouth up. “I’d say figurin’ out the poison and who had a hit on me in two days is plenty of progress.”
Sakusa shifts up onto one elbow. “I could get it done in one.”
“Well, I’m not you,” Atsumu sniffs, and helps Sakusa sit up. “And for that I’m very glad you’re alive. I could’ve spent those two days relaxin’ after a near death experience, instead of executing traitors, Omi-kun. Just think about my frail composition.”
“How did you do it, by guillotine? You’ve always loved a spectacle.”
“With the rest of the meal that was poisoned; I laid out quite a feast for them. Only the truest of revenges for you, Royal Shadow.”
“So a spectacle,” Sakusa says, and Atsumu snorts.
“I never said it wasn’t.” He directs his gaze towards the few chancellors seated in the medical wing. “Are we done here? I’d like to give him some rest.”
This last statement is said with a fine thread of steel. The nobles grumble and leave with customary bows to Atsumu, and oddly enough, to Sakusa as well.
“What was that,” Sakusa says flatly. “Your chancellors have never acknowledged my presence before.”
“Y’never miss anythin’, do ya, Omi-Omi,” Atsumu mumbles. The tips of his ears are red. “First, let me tell ya that it was a poisonous mushroom, dried, ground into powder, and stirred into the sauce that covered the meat. It’s often found sporadically in the forests of Seijoh, but Oikawa n’ Iwaizumi had nothin’ to do with it. Just some small group trying to sow discord.”
Sakusa makes a noise of disagreement. “If they managed to get it all the way to your plate, they don’t seem very small.”
Atsumu shrugs. “Oikawa has dealt with them before, so we aren’t alone in the investigation.” He takes Sakusa’s hand. “Don’t say it might be easier if it were. I can’t have you dyin’ again tryin’ to eliminate them.”
He’s looking straight at Sakusa when he says this, his eyes soft and solemn. What is unsaid comes through loud and clear.
Sakusa dismisses it anyway. “It is my job, Your Grace.”
Atsumu’s brow wrinkles. “What, investigations alone?”
“Dying for you,” Sakusa says. “I would do it again. I will do it again the next time this happens.”
There’s a heavy pause. Sakusa swallows. He’s already said too much.
“What if I want you to live for me?” Atsumu whispers, eyes lowered at their joined hands.
Warmth rushes into Sakusa’s chest. “That’s why the chancellors bowed to me,” he says out loud, and Atsumu looks sheepish.
“You know more than ‘nyone that they don’t like you very much. But they respect you, especially when you took the poison for me, even after they accused you of being a traitor. It didn’t take much to convince ‘em that your skills and information are better on our side than otherwise. That it would be good for optics, a royal and their loyal shadow. That there’s no one more dedicated to this land except for me.”
“Dedicated to you,” Sakusa corrects, and smirks a little at the back of Atsumu’s neck flushing.
“Yes, you insufferable flirt, let me finish,” Atsumu says, and Sakusa huffs a laugh at that.
“You’re one to talk, with all those dates on the pretense of poisoned food.”
“It paid off, didn’t it? Here we are.” The joke is grim and Atsumu’s hand tightens on Sakusa’s involuntarily.
“I trust you,” Atsumu continues. “A partner, through and through. The council insists there are better options, and if there are, I don’t care to hear ‘em. There’s no one I want more by my side than you, Kiyoomi.”
“I refuse to wear any royal colours,” Sakusa deadpans.
Atsumu chuckles. “Just for the wedding. I’m not going to waste my only chance at seein’ you in a colour other than black.” He sobers again. “The council only agreed as long as nothin’ changes in our roles even if your status changes to royal consort. They don’t want any sign of a power shift in case it’ll make me look vulnerable. God knows you’re much better a Royal Shadow than royal, anyway; I think you’d kill me if I made you give up your spy network. What d’you say, Omi-Omi?”
Sakusa intertwines their fingers. “I’d kill you if you made me gave up tasting your food.”
“That’s a yes, then,” Atsumu preens, and his happiness is contagious. Sakusa is fighting a smile.
“What d’you love me for, hm?” Atsumu leans in. “For being a kind, just, ruler?”
“For your thirst for the spotlight.”
“Someone has to be in the sun for a shadow to follow,” Atsumu quips, and closes the distance for a kiss.
Sakusa stops him with one hand and gets a soft, pained groan from Atsumu.
“Kiyoomi,” he pleads.
“Did the nurses wash out my mouth? I could kill you with a kiss.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Atsumu says, and ignores the whack on the shoulder Sakusa gives him. “Yes, you overconcerned raven, they made sure you had nothing left in your system.” Impatient, he pushes forward again, pressing their open mouths together.
Sakusa thinks Atsumu might be the best thing he’s ever tasted.
Sakusa is pulling meat off a skewer with his teeth when he hears the first of the gossip.
“There’s talk that our King is getting married at midsummer,” a teenage girl says to her companions. “To his loyal Shadow!”
Her friend leans in. “They realized they couldn’t live without each other after the Shadow ate poisoned food that was meant for His Grace. We’ve seen them at every public event His Grace has attended, I swear they were looking at each other so fondly every time.”
Sakusa wonders how obvious he’s been considering Atsumu is the flirt of the two of them.
“The King n’ his sworn knight?” Atsumu’s voice is pitched differently than his usual tone, but Sakusa knows it all the same.
“Not just his sworn knight,” the same girl sighs. “The Royal Shadow, His Grace’s closest companion and advisor. They go everywhere together, and the Shadow almost died for His Grace! How romantic!”
“Even to bed?” Atsumu asks, and Sakusa narrows his eyes at his skewer because he can’t look at Atsumu. The group of teens burst into giggles.
“It’s probably treason of some kind to speculate on that. They’re both so handsome, I hope they’re truly happy.”
Atsumu rises to purchase a pastry and catches Sakusa’s eye while turning away. He returns and discreetly sets one down where Sakusa is sitting as he passes by; only Sakusa can see the smile Atsumu hides into a bite of the egg tart.
It’s sweet all the same.