Chapter Text
"You’re supposed to be watching the girl, idiommMMPPHH!!"
"Shut up, asshole!"
The raven-haired prince released the smug lord's mouth, eyes still following the radiant duo dancing below them in the arena. Well, one part of the duo.
A honey haired girl with braids wrapped intricately around her head spun in circles endlessly and effortlessly, thin clothes of gold silk following her body at a billowing pace. Her feet beat faster than the hearts of many men and woman watching dumbstruck from the circular stadium seats, poised to tip over the railings. The girl's eyes were closed but her mouth was in a wide-open grin, teeth ivory and straight. Her skin shone in the noon sun from the stress of the control and grace she held. She was a golden tornado but her storm did not rage alone.
A boy, clad like the girl, was mirroring her actions across the sand covered stage. His hands grasped at the air as his hips twisted and pulsed with the music caressing each ear in the crowd. Unlike the girl, his eyes were blown open, his umber orbs raking the audience while his mouth grinned with glee at what he saw. Bracelets and rings adorning his body to match his partner sparkled to harmonize with the light playing at the definition of his muscles and angles of his bones. His orange hair was brighter but softer than the sun.
That fire-like hair burned itself into the prince's watching eyes, leaving a vibrant imprint the few times he remembered to blink. His long hands curled around the ends of the ornately carved throne he was perched upon above the many spectators his family ruled over.
As the song increased in speed, so did the dancers. Their feet moved erratically but would leap gracefully every few beats so as to be closer to the other. Soon, when the music was moving so fast you couldn't think, the dancers were weaving their bodies around each other, un-touching. From afar, from what the masses could see, the pair was moving effortlessly, like water. Up close, from what the girl and boy could see, they were sweating tremendously, breathing labored, but even.
The boy laughed. His body felt like lead, but it was all so exciting: the people watching and marveling at him and at her, the music loud and thrumming, pounding lust into hearts. His skin felt it was on fire, as if to burn away the flesh and release the boundless energy trapped inside of him. When he finally met his companion’s eyes, he knew she felt it too.
They shouted together as they finally connected their bodies with the final, deafening beat of the drum. All was quiet. They inhaled and exhaled together, their chests expanding into the others, their eyes still locked, sharing exhaustion and pride.
The first clap to set off thousands came from the prince, standing, gazing at the dancers through the light that seemed to emanate from them. The cheering intensified as they broke away each other to bow in every direction they could. Finally, when the applause reached a point where it could not possibly grow further, umber eyes lifted to meet sapphire ones. The prince's breath caught in his throat as those deep, warm-no-hot eyes seared his. The dancer held his stare a heartbeat longer before bowing finally to the most important of audience members. This member caught the lopsided smirk that flashed before the bow shadowed it and responded with an equally unseen grin of his own.
When the act of bowing was finished and the cheers started to soften, the performers found each other. Together, hand in hand, they left the stadium through one of the several bronze barred side accesses to the arena. As they padded down the hall, the dancers let their breathing uneven and their hands to quiver. They laughed at each other and climbed into the carriage waiting for them, falling into the plush cushions adorning the car. The girl released the boy and started to babble, but the fiery haired boy didn't listen, for where there was thought, there were icy, sapphire eyes staring back into his.
"Oh the prince never gets what he wants. He never gets titles, and land, and people to fall for him, and a birthday filled with singing and parties and dancing and-"
"I never asked for all that."
Lord Oikawa gave Prince Tobio a brutally smug stare.
"B-but I'm not saying it's not nice."
The royal boy grumbled and threw his head back dramatically over his desk chair, thick, glossy hair sliding over his temples. He breathed in through his nose and out through clenched teeth. Prince Kageyama Tobio's eighteenth birthday was in exactly one month, and the partying had started about a week ago. Honestly, his birthday was mostly an excuse to throw a big and lavish celebration by his father, the king, to show off his powerful kingdom. But it was also a pre-marital celebration.
The king had stated that before Tobio’s age day a bride would be announced. This had set off everyone in the kingdom and the next one over bringing their daughters and their dowries but mostly their wine to celebrate and exhibit the girls. The first week of festivities was filled with a handful of performances and a few proposals that had to be turned down for lack of title, land, money or something unworthy of his highness the prince. None of this was decided of course by the prince himself but by his father. Tobio thought perhaps he did see one of the proposals, and she was sweet, but she nearly knocked over some priceless heirloom from clumsiness and well that was that. But there was a hurdle that no girl or lady could pass that kept her from getting any where near the prince's heart.
"Well you could always just tell them you're a pillow biter." A book flew to meet the lord’s words.
As Tooru whined and rubbed his forehead Tobio stood and paced his study. "Fuck..."
The lord huffed, exasperated. "Yes, with men, we know." This time, he ducked.
"Shut it, Oikawa, what if someone hears?" Tobio finally sat down across from his...friend, his head in his hands. "I had always just avoided the thought that I would be forced to marry someday, but now that that day is here...." Ever since he could attend the gatherings his parents held at the castle, Prince Tobio knew something was wrong. The girls he met at parties who giggled when they were introduced and twisted themselves to try to appeal to him never interested him. He would ignore their chatter and watch the serving boys (nearly his age, they were always the young and prettiest of the kingdom's poor families) carrying plates of food and drink for guests. Because of his dismissal towards girls and honestly, most people in general, he was named "Winter Prince” by the court, as he was cold enough to form ice in conversation. His blue eyes and the fact that his birthday was on the official start of winter further bettered the nickname.
Tobio had always known he didn't like girls, but he didn't really realize he just liked boys. He finally realized it one day when a lord's son was in attendance to a spring ball held by the king and queen for the wealthy and courtly of the land. The boy was tall for his age, and smug. He had soft brown hair and a twinkling laugh that put a beat into the hardest of hearts. When he turned his gleaming eyes and melodious voice to the prince, he was no exception. Tobio was 11, and Tooru was 14.
For a while, the Oikawa's stayed in the castle; their mansion had partly burned down in a supposed wild fire and the lord refused to stay in smoke stained quarters. The mansion took three years to rebuild, and in that time, Tobio had fallen in love with the son of the lord. But also in that time, after a couple years, he was introduced to the true Oikawa, the Oikawa that was rude, spoiled and loud. After he made the realization that this boy was possibly the biggest annoyance in his life, and probably would be forever, Tobio fell out of love and swore to never let it rise again. Love was too fickle, too much of a hindrance, and where would it lead him? How could he marry anyone he loved? He couldn't, and that was how it was.
Finally, when the lord's mansion was complete, Lord Oikawa contracted a deadly illness and died within the Kageyama's castle, leaving his livelihood prematurely to his son. Soon afterwards Lady Oikawa died of heartbreak: the public term for what the court knew was a suicide. The new lord was devastated and shut himself away for almost four years in what was now only his home.
Tobio felt Tooru’s absence more than he thought he could or dare to admit. The prick had become a brother to him, an annoying, selfish brother, but he truly cared about him (something else he would never admit).
When the lord had finally reemerged from his mansion walls, it was a month before the festivities for Tobio’s birthday began. And instead of arriving at the castle gates with a wife, he came with a mysterious knight practically attached to his hip. The knight was cool and collective compared to his lord's surprisingly cheerful and less-surprisingly boisterous personality. Oikawa was welcomed home, the past four years forgotten, and together he and the prince bickered from sunrise to sunset, just as they had used to.
"Tobio, you're trying to think again. I can tell 'cause you look constipated, which really doesn't do a thing for your complexion." Tooru, now lounging across the silk couch in the prince's private study, broke him out of his stupor. "And before you do anything, I had already taken the liberty before opening my glorious lips to make sure there were no books around you." He smirked.
Tobio paused from raising his head out of his hands, fell back into them, and groaned.
"Hey, hey, Tobio, get out of your pity party and look at me, focus on my glowing face."
"I'd rather marry some random girl my father picks out for me."
"Well then, do that."
The prince slowly lifted his face from his hands to give the lord a confused look. "What do you mean?"
"Just-oh dear god don't make that face it's even more constipated looking-marry the girl your father picks out. You don't have to love her; you don't even have to like her. You can arrange for your sleeping quarters to be separate and to only converse in social situations where it is expected of you." Oikawa completed the thought with a wave of his hand.
"Oh," the lord added as an afterthought. "And give her children."
"Oh god."
Oikawa scrambled out of the plush couch cushions to grab at the hands pressed roughly into Tobio’s eyes. He shook him softly. "Hey yeah okay that sounds really awful-"
"It is really awful."
"-but kids are cool! You know!" Noticing the anguish in what little he could see of the soon-to-be-man's face he changed tactics. "Or we can just cut off your dick so no one will expect it of you."
The prince jumped away from the other man in disgust. "I'm kidding!" Oikawa comforted. "But I say we slip it into the ‘Plan Z’ section of this marriage."
"You're horrible."
"At least I'm thinking of something!!"
Tobio groaned. Suddenly, a short knock came from the door. "It's me,” said a gruff voice.
Tobio fell back onto the couch with another pained noise. "Very princely." Oikawa jeered as he skipped to the chamber door, quickly opening it with a flourish. "Iwa~!"
In the slim doorframe stood a knight dressed in gleaming steel armor. He stood loosely with his helmet tucked neatly under one arm, a common stance for personal guards.
However, if the knight knew that there were royals in the room other than the prince he would have stood at attention and most likely bowed. But Oikawa had made very clear early on that his prince wouldn’t care for such treatment (and he didn’t want him to get it).
“I thought I asked you to stop calling me that undignified name, my lord.” The title dripped of the knight’s tongue like poison.
“Well, Sir Iwaizumi who serves under me and his patron house, Oikawa, I don’t give a shit and I’ll do what I want.” Tooru retaliated likewise.
Not much was known about the knight Iwaizumi. When Oikawa came out of his self-imprisonment a month ago he rode up to the castle gates in an ornate carriage lead only by the knight. Not only was his appearance a surprise, but his lack of staff. There were rumors that Oikawa had let go of all of his staff, save for a few gardeners and maids, but no one could believe them considering the lord’s glamorous nature.
When Tobio had heard of his old friend’s arrival, he was practicing his sword fighting (honestly a worthless task for the prince, he had beaten every one of his master’s at least twice), but he ran, drenched in sweat, to the palace gates. He stood, breathing heavily, looking down at the lord as he exited the car. Oikawa had met his confused stare with a sharp, grinning one. One hand on his mysterious, glimmering knight as he stepped down from the carriage, the prince remembers vividly, Oikawa had laughed in a twinkly way before addressing him, “Still simple minded as ever I see.”
Iwaizumi’s annoyed grumbling brought Tobio back to reality. “What is it, Iwaizumi?” he mumbled. For the first few weeks they spent around each other, Iwaizumi and the prince kept polite airs about themselves, but both soon learned that they were useless, and though they were not close, acted casually together.
The knight gave a quick glare to Oikawa, who was leaning condescendingly on his shoulder. “The king and queen have asked for your presence at dinner in an hour. They’ve sent service to your room for bathing and dressing.” Iwaizumi stated then shook his lord off of him as way of addressing. “You’re invited too.”
Oikawa’s eyes glinted as they widened. “Oh! If we’re getting so dressed up, and if history truly repeats itself, then I bet I know who’s coming to dinner.”
Tobio sat up slightly to look over the couch at the man grinning wickedly down at him. “Who?” He tried to hide his curiosity with a bitter tone.
“The prince and princess of the Southern Isle’s.”
A swirling image of gold and umber bloomed in the prince’s mind.