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1.
Kouen loved the shower.
Well, love is a strong word for Kouen, considering the fact that being a direct royal descendant of the Kou empire, having explicitly strong emotions was forbidden. Nonetheless, a shower still evoked strong positive feelings in him, especially after a bloody battle and he was covered in nothing but blood, and gore, and sweat and grimes, of course. Of him and his enemies’.
Showers in the Royal Palace were a ritualistic activity in ít of itself. The servants would first pour bucket after bucket of scorching water until his skin turned red and squeaky clean. Deep barrel made from luxurious fragrance wood filled to the brim with hot medicinal water that instantly relieved muscle pain and as he soaked in the tub, servants would rub his back and wash his hair with locust and osmanthus. Once the water turned cold, he would be escorted out of the bath, patted dry, perfume oil would be rubbed all over his body. His hair would be done up by one group of servants while he’s clothed by another. Then, it’s either bed time or time of leisure.
He needn’t move one finger for the whole process of this, that’s how things were in the Royal palace.
When in battle, things panned out expediently differently, obviously. Depending on their camps’ location, their cleansing routine was set up to accommodate that. That meant his showers ranged from a quick rinse in the nearest body of water to plain old rinse with a damp rag.
Whatever. Contrary to popular believes, the Kou children were trained since birth to survive and thrive and be victorious under any circumstances. For the family, for the empire. For themselves.
Whatever. As long as the water washed away the sight of battle waged on his skin and hair, he’s satisfied. Water washed away the skin lingered on skin, and once the water ran clear, he got out of the shower, and let the sun of taking lives taken run down the drain, void of the guilt for the traitors and enemies damaging the greater goods of the Empire.
That didn’t mean Kouen didn’t enjoy a nice, long, relaxing bath every once in a while.
——
2.
Sindria was a blessing in disguise. At least it was for Kouen.
The meeting/conference between nations was a mess, to say the least. The mere mention of it gave Kouen a whipping migraine, though only visible through a twitch of muscle. The only saving grace for this entire trip was probably the elaborate system of connected bathhouse and hot springs that they developed on the island.
Marbles covered the bathhouse from floor to ceiling, this indoor space reeked of opulence, even for a man of royalty like Kouen. Jewels dripping from chandeliers despite having candles lighting the space as well. Sculpted structures of religiousness and regality dotted every corner and the long marbled hallways led to the outdoor natural hot spring, where they situated the bathhouse around.
The meeting with Sinbad drained Kouen’s psyche, and the follow-up routinely pratice he forced on himself drained his body. By the time he made it to the bathhouse, the sky was a velvet purple adorned with constellations; so beautiful in fact that Kouen skipped the indoor tubs with their fragrance oils ( his favorite ) and headed for the hotspring.
Kouen bit back a moan of relaxation as he submerged himself into the water. Though the temperature was higher than he expected and a little bit sulfuric, his muscles still sighed gratefully under the water.
“ Reeeally does a good job of opening up your pores, huh?”
The steam-clung air and the crowded flora made Kouen think he was the only one there. Instinct of a soldier tensed him up, but momentarily he was too dimmed to conjure up any miasma; best he could do was lazily glanced over to the direction the voice came from. Tucked between the hyacinth and chrysanthemum bushes were locs of crimson, flesh of cream, and an easy smile. The man looked so beautifully inviting, like he was a flower spirit luring you in the water instead of the most dangerous general in Reim. Without his normal suit of armor and eyeliner, the only thing that could somewhat indicate his position in the army was his robust masses of pure muscles.
“General Alexius.” Kouen simply nodded to acknowledge the other man.
Said man, Muu Alexius, wasn’t offended by this rather lukewarm response, even went as far as leaving his post by the flowers to inch closer to Kouen, bit by bit. Kouen, through his half-closed lids, sensed this, yet he didn’t stop the other man on his track. He had heard of such cultural practice between Reim men in the bath: going to public bathhouses in group, chatting and grooming each other at the same time. Lathering soaps on their mates while making small talks about their lives was considered perfectly normal and healthy male bonding time, so Kouen brushed pass the initial weirdness when Alexius invaded his personal bubble and started striking conversation with him.
Maybe it was the common struggle dealing with Sinbad, maybe it was the hot spring, maybe it was the night air but Kouen ended up enjoying the time spent with Alexius more than he had expected. And if his eyes occasionally drank in the tremendous sight that was Muu Alexius’ impressive body in the nude, the other man couldn’t have noticed that (or he made a really good show of pretending to ignore that). His thighs constantly breaking the water surface as he got a little too excited with their ongoing conversation, arms brandished by suntan and battle scars now hang lazily on the curb of the spring, long and thick fingers casually flicking or plunging into the water.
That night, Kouen had silently wished that he had gone to the bath when the night was a lot younger. Maybe he could have been lucky and see the other man’s maroon hair glowing in the eventide sun. That would have been a spectacle.
——
3.
“Brother, the water is ready.”
Their new accommodation was astronomically hot, hotter than the Royal palace on Summer Solstice, even. Though, through vigorous trainings from a young ages and all the time spent on tropical battlefields during his formative years, the heat really wasn’t that concerning to him, still bearable.
It’s the sweat that got on his nerves.
So, as a last resort for his current situation , Koumei had prepared a makeshift showering station out in their backyard, with a roundabout curtain covering the chair and a couple of water buckets inside.
Kouen made his way to the backyard, struggling a little with his composure and hissed a little as the crutches’ handles dug into the softer flesh of his underarms. He couldn’t get use to not…having all his limbs functioning. Not yet. But he was getting better at moving around, even grumbling at his brother everytime he tried to help carrying him instead.
He can do it alone.
He must do it alone.
The day-end sunlight casted a shadow on his brother’s attentive face, making him look more lamentable than Kouen ever noticed. His pale skin, once the freckles had only been little dots here and there, now seemed like the entire Milky Way bloomed on there, and the salt air and sunlight made his skin harsher, rougher, more haggard.
Kouen shed his outer clothes and stepped into the curtains without ease, took even longer to sit on the chair and removed his prosthetics. There was nothing there but stumps of where his limbs once were, scar tissues merged onto each other creating a web of deep angry red skin.
“Brother…” Koumei sounded hesitant, like his words, no matter what they are, could easily send off Kouen. The sound of water sloshing filled in his unspoken sentence.
“It’s perfectly fine, Koumei. It looks worse than it feels.” Kouen comforted as his brother poured bucket after bucket of water on him.
He had meant it: the pain of having limbs severed while being conscious only made up a fraction of the gnawing guilt he faced every waking up and remembered that he was the one that put them where they were. He was responsible for this , for not being attentive enough to see the turmoil growing within right under his nose sooner, let it fester until it tore his family apart again.
As soon as the sticky residue of sweat left his skin, he signaled Koumei to stop. They couldn’t afford to loose anymore fresh water, since the trip to get water was too laborious for both of their physical condition. Hands - once plumped and only tinged with the residues of magical experiments, now calloused all over, tan spots taking up spaces as much as dark leftover magi marks - helped dry him with a rough cloth.
“I’m sorry…” Kouen squeezed his brother’s hand, hoping for atoinment for his guilt.
“Brother, please don’t say that. It’s not your fault, this much you should’ve known by now.”
The backyard garden was hardly a quiet place, especially then, when the sun was loosing its last daylight, the animals the bugs living the nocturnal life making themselves known with chittering and hooting sounds. But at that moment, Kouen had never felt more suffocated by the surrounding space, the bustling chime of life around trickled into a single dripping noise.
I’m sorry . Koumei put his prosthetics on for him. Plink .
I’m sorry. He dressed himself up. Plink .
I’m sorry. They walked to the kitchen and prepared dinner. Plink .
——
4.
Thud.
“ Amor , are you…”
“I’m fine! It’s the soap bottle…is all.” Kouen’s impatient voice echoed from behind the bathroom door, cutting off his lover’s worrying one. “I’m alright, just…Leave me!”
Kouen waited. A beat, and when he could hear footsteps in the distance, a sigh finally left his lungs. He hadn’t intended to raise his voice like that, but just the thought of Muu seeing him like that: a once prideful general leading in the great battle against Sinbad’s force now pathetically fell in the shower because he still couldn’t get use to shower alone without his prosthetic raised a storm inside him and that struck with a seething rage he couldn’t see coming; even back in his commanding general days in dilemmatic situations he didn’t lose his temper like that.
Again, Kouen sighed as he abandoned the thought of crawling back onto the stool and just sat on the floor. Lathering soaps onto your body was rather tricky when you only had one hand to do the job, and Kouen momentarily cursed at himself for being too prideful to let Muu in and help him, despite both Muu and his own body screaming for that in their own ways. He just couldn’t.
Staring down his bubbled up body and he was reminded of the answer why. His amputated limbs, now on full display. The nasty scars, though faded through time and an abundant amount of scar remedies that his brother concocted, was still an abominable pinkish patch that clashed against the rest of his pale skin. It’s not like they hadn’t seen each other naked, but most of the time they were tangled between the sheets, flushed skin seeking flushed skin, too lust-crazed to even give a damn about how they’d look to one another. Those moments were the rare moments that Kouen felt good-looking enough for the other man.
Under the bright light of the bathroom, what he tried to suppress - with long-sleeve clothes and hours of training until his prosthetics were just another body part to him - he couldn’t hide from it any more.
He’s a decimated resulting creature of a ruined dynasty.
He deserved to be dismembered like this.
He didn’t deserve a loving and caring person like Muu Alexius .
——
5.
It started with a simple invitation.
“ Laogong , do you want to join me in the shower?”
Kouen let his husband undress him, let him remove his prosthetics for him and carry him to the well-lit bathroom.
Now, Kouen was sitting on his husband’s lap in the bath while Muu lathered soaps on him, washed his hair and occasionally rubbed his back. He needn’t move a finger for the whole process, the foggy air put him at rest, the comforting massaging motion on his skin and Muu’s warmth encompassing him made him finally at ease with seeing how his body contrasting his Reim man’s.
“Do you remember when we first met?” Kouen asked, making it sounded as nonchalant as possible, as if this wasn’t a burning question he had had since the very beginning of their relationship. He was grateful for their position: his back against Muu’s chest, his husband’s head on top of his and perfectly kept his expression hidden from him.
Muu, for the boisterous man that he was, stayed rather quiet the entire time. His attention all poured on treating Kouen’s body like a piece of fine silk, and he a master seamster fabricating his magnum opus .
“You are like a glacier-filled lake when I first saw you, cold, threatening and most definitely deadly.” Muu’s hands reach out for Kouen’s. And at the realization of that, Kouen instinctively try to hide his… other arm , but Muu caught it and rubbed it, gently, like he did his hand. “You hadn’t noticed I was there too, and you enjoyed yourself so much in the hot spring that I started to wonder how beautiful that lake must be thawing in spring, with glacier melting and life blossoming.” He brought Kouen’s residuum to his lips and whispered kisses into it.
“…and are you disappointed?” Kouen removed his functioning hand from Muu’s grip to caress his face. He was expecting the worst possible outcome: not disgust, never disgust, but disappointment and pity. “I’m a wasteland now.”
“You exceeded my expectations, carissime . You definitely are a force of nature, and a sublime one, too.” With that, Muu’s free hand gently tugged at his scalp, pulling his head back to kiss him passionately in such a way that Kouen almost lost his breath. “What did I do to deserve you?” Muu whispered into his lips.
And right then and there, with bubbles still lingered on his skin and hazy air fragranced with cloying floral and his xīn gān ’s lips, Kouen was reminded him that he was truly home, and he was loved, and he deserved it.