Chapter Text
From the moment he could read them Marco’s words filled him with unlimited curiosity. Neither his aunt nor his mother understood what the words meant but they recommended that he learn every language he could in order to one day find his match. When he was 12 years old he devoured languages like they were apples from Master Dorien’s fruit stand until he was fluent in English, Italian, Latin, and Spanish but he still have not found the language like the words that ran down his arm. ‘You learned the tongue of the Uighurs?’ was written in molten gold, the English tongue and were written with broad strokes unlike the slim and gentle pink of the words that wrapped around his mother’s neck or the vivid green that danced across his aunts left foot. Marco knew before he became a teenager that his soulmate was not going to be the love of his life because every time he touched the words he felt the same warmth that he did when Master Culian called him “son”. He had a platonic bond with a man he never met despite the years that passed when he went from a child to a young man about to step into adult hood. Marco had wondered why his bonded did not show up when he was a young orphan boy that needed a father-figure but decided to not spend the rest of his life questioning.
It was a cool afternoon when his father’s ship sailed into the harbor and his life changed forever. At first he could not believe it and assumed that he was seeing visions but when the ship did not fade from view he knew that it was true. After 17 years his father was finally home and Marco could not wait to finally meet him. When they met that night Father was both similar and different to how Marco had envisioned him but he did not care because Father was here and he did not need his bonded after all and no words could describe his joy. Words also could not describe his sadness at being left behind, the fear as he snuck on the ship and the wonderment when he learnt the people they were to travel with were called Uighurs. Remembering his Aunts advice to learn all he could Marco put his focus and energy to into learning how to speak like them to make his words come true. At times he wanted to give up because the language was old and the words more foreign than any he knew but every time Marco thought of his word-bond and the man who would be like a second father to him he decided to try just a little longer.
The journey felt longer than three years but a few months after his 20th birthday Father claimed that they have finally reached their destination: the palace of the great Kublai Khan. Uncle hissed at him to follow their lead before the doors to the throne room opened and they made their way through the room on their knees. When he was finally allowed to rise Marco carefully looked around the room trying not to gawk at the signs of wealth and power around him. Sitting on a golden throne designed with fur and lions sat a man bigger than any he met in his life who looked less than impressed with the sight before him. The Khan looked to be in his fifties and had a long beard that had grey mixed in with a thick golden belt slung across his chest. His hair was black and styled like some of the men around him and he was completely dressed in golden robes with fur around his neck. His voice was gravelly and clear but not loud because raising his voice was not necessary to get his point across. The Khan spoke mostly to his father and uncle asking them to describe his desert which they had journeyed. The words they used was dry and basic which did not give justice to the majestic land they sen. He did not think before he spoke out loud to the Khan for the first time over his father.
“Yet very much alive. At night you hear it. The shifting sands, they sing.” Marco spoke low but clear as he noticed the Khan’s head turn to him quickly and his eyes seemed to stare him down. The woman who was sitting next to the Khan in the purple headdress leaned forward and seemed to be trying to read him like a book.
“Humble apologies, Sire,” His father interrupted desperately. “He does not yet know the rules of the-”
The Khan made a deep guttural sound in the back of his throat while raising his hand which caused Father to become silent completely.
“Let him continue.” The Khan ordered his eyes going from his father back to him.
“Voices like….spirits trying to lure you off course. That is why men die out there. The Uighurs called it….Hirnaom Uirnadk Iaiclaimak.” Marco finished as the foreign words rolled off his tongue with little difficulty.
“You learned the tongue of the Uighurs?” The Khan demanded and Marco knees buckled as shock rolled swept through him. It was the Khan’s words that ran down his arm in broad molten good lettering? How the greatest king on the planet could was meant to be a platonic bondmate that made Marco feel he was safe and could step in for his father if necessary? Seeing the Khan lean forward on his throne made Marco realize he had yet to answer.
“Three years was not long enough to learn it all.” He quickly replied.
“And this?” The Khan asked in Mongolian.
“I understand it...for the most part.” Marco replied in the same tongue. He was shaking with nervous as he answered his soulmate who was also a king. The Khan snorted and leaned back into his throne to look at the woman next to him.
The lady asked him about the most beautiful women he had seen and seemed amused by his answer even though her eyes did not soften.
“You have a clever mind, for a Latin.” The Khan stated with a voice ringing with amusement. That voice quickly turned to anger as he reminded them that they did not bring the priest he asked for and then banished them forever. For the second time in less than five minutes Marco was almost knocked over with shock: he traveled for three years around the world to this court and met his bonded only to be sent back to the roads never to return.
Marco went to bow like his uncle when his father suddenly straightened and began to speak to the Khan again about him. Marco was as confused as the rest of the court about the point behind his father’s words until he got to the point.
“But if it pleases Your Greatness, you may take him as your man and servant.”
He had to be hearing things. His father was not selling him like cattle to a foreign king.
“What do you wish in return?” The Khan asked as a stone plundered through Marco’s belly as his father negotiated terms. Feeling scared for the first time he entered the Khan’s court Marco desperately pleaded with his father.
“Father, what are you doing?” Marco demanded.
“Marco, trust this. Be silent.” His father orders him quietly.
“I am your son.” Marco pleaded.
“Be silent.” Father hissed.
“You wish not the honor of service in the court of the Khan of Khans?” The king asked him with his voice sounding hard enough to silent the words in Marco’s tongue.
It was a moment of silent before the Khan accepted his father’s blood deal and everything was over. Marco tried to go his father pleading with him not to leave him behind but as the guards stopped him Marco could see that his pleading was useless.
It was slightly warm in the cell he was in so Marco did not bother to wrap himself in the blanket he had been provided. Instead he settled for curling up on the bed against the wall as the hours slowly ticked away and the light through the window grew dark with nightfall. He was almost half asleep when he heard footsteps make their way down the steps until they reached his cell. Silence ruled the atmosphere until Marco could not help sitting up to see who his visitor was only to find it to be the Khan himself. Neither one said anything for a long time as Marco grew nervous for the reason behind this late night visit.
“I have been waiting a long time for you,” The Khan finally spoke. “It will be interesting to see if you are worth the wait.”