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Chapter Text

The Kingdom of Garth was one of prosperous summers replete with sunshine and smiles. Surely the country boasted many gorgeous and unique charm points, but its elegant and intricate gardens were axiomatically the most attractive feature of all. The warmer months proudly displayed a spectrum of flowers upon flowers: blossoms from across the globe, annuals from every continent, perennials from every country. Their gardens were quintessential, and only yielded gorgeous, soulful plants. Yes, the kingdom had no dearth of magnificent foliage, and therefore said beautiful blooms were often the inspirations for every little activity, seal, fabric, and appellation.

A particular flower brought forth the life of one little infant. On the early July day, a soft petal fluttered gently down from the blossom it came from. Hard, polished wood greeted it upon its descent, a piercing cry accompanying its swaying and faltering. The window was open, illuminating the ornate room with spreads of golden sunshine. The flowers above were in a detailed vase, well-cared-for, white, and flourishing blooms with their own gold at the center. The fallen pale petal’s surface complimented the newborn’s alabaster skin, and just like that, the child Killua Alstroemeria Zoldyck was born.

Unlike the birth of every other infant that day, this one child was a social rave. Word traveled from the bed chamber where he was born to the entirety of the palace he should one day inherit. Prince Killua was born, and what he would do with that prestigious life of his would all boil down to who he would become, or rather, who he would discover he was this whole time.

It all started on a summer day a mere twelve years after the crown prince’s birth. The Kingdom of Garth was quite affluent, yet just like any other kingdom, there lived the rich, and there existed the poor. Said peasants, however, greatly abhorred their penurious conditions. Many, consumed with a raw hatred, rose rebellions. These displeased people, on this fate-entangled day, lifted their weapons, and for the umpteenth time in the kingdom’s existence, declared that they were finished with the monarchy. The uprising failed to endure even a day of the palace’s soldiers, and soon, top culprits, both alive and dead, were being dragged up to the palace. The prisoners left crimson roses in the dirt trails behind them. The petals dripped from their open wounds and onto the ground, soaking into the earth there as a final blessing from men, women, and children who would never be seen again to the earth. Soldiers chased away those in mourning and rushed those who were bleeding still. The excruciating march was led up white, stone stairs. Sanguine flowers bloomed there as well, but they would have to be cleaned later by lesser servants. The earth took the blessed presents with arms wide open, unlike the cold, polished rock.

The lovely parade of insurgents were marched up and up, and soon, more than half of the party arrived at the intricate, metal gates that separated society from the gum under its shoes. One rebel in particular stood out among the rest. Obviously he was youngest in the group. He was a tiny, little, dirty child that just happened to hit a soldier to save his innocent aunt from a fatal blow from a heavy claymore, yet here he was, being trailed like an adult before the feet of the king.

The whole set of them were lined up on the exquisite, crimson, carpet river splayed out from under the thrones where the king and queen sat. King Sylva sat surveying the audience. Raising his head from its resting position on his hand, he began to whisper to his wife. To the crowd he seemed dangerously condemning, ready to punish them all for going against the state. A few people began to tremble; some people began to cry. His icy eyes offered no comfort, and his wife refused to look at the crowd, murmuring harshly to her husband. Queen Kikyo was known for being either completely benevolent or utterly crude and for having control over many of her husband’s decisions, so their fate rested in her tiny, delicate hands. She was a wonderful foil to the man: small build, delicate features, hair long, silky, and dark hair, and a much more delicate crown sitting atop her head. Her husband’s looked like an oversized ring with a single, enormous, rose-red gem at the center. Hers appeared to be made of thorns of silver, a single, diminutive, orange, ruby entangled in the stems. However, she did don a mask of bandages over her eyes: something the public was well-aware of, but the origin of the injury was a completely different story. Against her creamy skin, it seemed mystical, ethereal even. One could mistake her for a goddess if they didn't know better.

Murmurs passed from villager to villager, and the more they looked around and spoke, the more they realized that there were no guards in the room to tell them they couldn't scramble around. Just in case there were some hidden nearby, the group kept on the carpet, held fast by heavy intimidation, but it soon became a little coalescent crowd of terrified whispering and the occasional wail. The hushed discussion seemed to continue on forever. Eventually, however, a head on platinum blond, or maybe it truly was white, hair popped out from behind a prodigious, marble pillar. Porcelain skin blended in well with the cream of the stone, and three sources of a glowing, deep blue slipped around the side. Two eyes, and a little teardrop gem suspended down from one wire shimmered with every scintilla of light strewn upon them. Thick, light brown lashes parted and closed and parted again, and slowly the owner emerged from behind the structure, slowly diffusing into the crowd.

Everything continued as normal, but eventually, a little, birch-colored hand found its way around a wrist that was the color of dark jatoba wood. A shift followed as the captured boy turned to face whoever had taken his attention away from his main concern. The young, dirty boy from earlier was merely trying his hardest not to cause an uproar. These royals were being completely ridiculous; these people were starving. They just wanted to eat; they wanted to be able to have carpets and stone floors just like everyone in the palace did. No, they were forced to constantly farm dirt, walk on dirt, act like dirt. It was awful; if he hadn't have stood up for Mito-san this year, he probably would have been one of the leaders in the front of the group who sparked the attack. When he turned, however, he failed to recognize who the villager was that looked back at him. He was met with someone who seemed to have a natural pallor to their face, which was relatively plump and young. A straight-edged nose, one that appeared to have been carved out perfectly by a toy maker or an adroit sculptor, lead down to a pair of thin lips that looked far too dark pink for the white that surrounded them. A quick scan of this boy’s face revealed that he truly had no idea regarding who the new addition to their crowd was, but the villager was mainly drawn in by the other’s eyes, the color of a deep sea, and slightly angled higher than his own, yet wide and expressive nonetheless.

“How old are you?” The voice was young like his own, and he was particularly surprised by how forcefully it spilled out. It was a demand, not a question.

“Twelve.” That response garnered him a smile.

“I, as well, am twelve. Today is the day of my birth, actually.” The pale boy paused only slightly, fairly uncertain of what to say next. He failed to stutter in his speech, but the slight pain caused by his well-manicured nails into the villager’s skin was pretty good indication that he was nervous. “Did you bring forth a present for me?”

“No?” This child was unknown to him; as much as he searched the big, indigo eyes, he could find no face to match the one in front of him right now. He had no idea who the boy was, yet he was being asked for a present.

“Then I believe you owe me something.” A sly smile formed on the strange boy’s lips. He began tugging his new friend away from the center of the crowd. “We’re going to play together. Tell me, what is your name?”

“Gon, but”

“Your full name?”

“Gon Delphinium Freecss, but I-”

“Ooo, those elegant ones with the blue petals?”

“Yes, I-”

“Prince Alstroemeria!” A booming voice suddenly rang out over the court. Gon lifted his eyes to the queen. The elder was standing, and she was “glaring” (he supposed that's what to call her intent, albeit blinded, look in his direction).

The queen was glaring at him.

“Where do you think you’re going with that peasant?” The words were spit on his face, and a frown dug its way onto his lips. She could see? Even through her thick bandaging, she could see? No, more importantly, she was insulting him for being poor? He was born into the class; he couldn't change that. The queen had no right to speak against him. Brow furrowed, the obdurate child was ready to speak out even against the monarch. To his surprise, however, the new boy whined, tugging him along even more.

“He’s a new friend, mother! Oh, do let me keep him! You always say no!” The tan boy turned to face the other child. His eyes were wide as he scanned those of the prince.

The prince.

Killua must have sensed the curiosity, because he turned his focus to Gon in return. He smiled, and for the first time, he really took in the impoverished boy’s appearance. Two round, light brown eyes stared at him, questioning and eager, and the golden flecks across the sweet, honey irises glowed faintly like sunlight even under the dark threat of death that was surely in his mind. Those earthly eyes were framed by stray strands of what appeared to be the most coarse, disheveled mess of hair in his life, yet the bedhead was oddly endearing. His nose was as pert as his personality, turned up at the end. Below rested two, light, petal-soft lips that pulled into two, long lines as he smiled nervously. The boy had dimples, and freckles were spread all over his cheeks; they crawled over the bridge of his nose, and Killua was fairly certain he saw the same dotted skin on the tips of Gon’s ears and on the top of his shoulders as well.

“Absolutely not! I refuse to have a son of royal blood mess his shoes up in this,” the woman’s nose wrinkled up as she began to slowly walk towards the boys, “filth.” Sylva seemed quick to jump into the conversation. His son so dearly needed this friend. It would be great practice for socializing with diplomats later in life. Play friendly—Killua would learn—then squash them when needed.

“Do let him keep the boy as a companion, dear.”

“Honey,” the queen turned abruptly, a caustic tone to her faux “sweet” voice. “Do I interrupt you when you’re scolding someone?”

“Kikyo, please.” The king stood, a concerned look to his eyes.

“No, sweetie. You never listen to me; you know I'm right about this.” The queen warned, full focus now on her husband.

“Please, sweetie,” he reached across the little stretch. Gently taking her hand in his own, Sylva pressed his lips lovingly to her knuckles. “I promise to discuss this later with you if you'll only listen.” She bit her crimson, bottom lip, but her deference to her husband gave out; she would at least hear his argument later before deciding the peasant's fate.

“Very well, but I expect quite a bit of explanation from you. Now for you two-” yet as she turned her attention back to the children, they were nowhere to be found. Their absence took a few seconds to sink in, but when it finally did, the queen was fuming. Furiously, she turned her attention back on the audience at hand and shouted. “All of you, to the dungeon!”

“Mom and dad fight quite often! They’ll forget us soon.” Killua was too zealous to be affected by the little squabble, and Gon was still flabbergasted at the entirety of events to reply to his new friend. Still, he couldn’t hold down this odd feeling of excitement bubbling up inside him. He was currently being tugged through the palace's gardens. Large topiaries and garden beds were scattered around in beautiful arrangements, and as the boy in front of him tugged him further into the garden, he found himself shaded by a plethora of tall, blossoming hedges. Little spots of sunshine were few and far between, but every single one that fell upon the prince seemed to be reflected off of him. “We'll be at my room soon!”

“Your room?” Amber eyes slid over every piece of priceless scenery that flew by. Unless the prince lived in a tree house, Gon was having his doubts.

“Mhmm! It should be right...” the two children slowed down as Killua ran his hands along the dirty, cream-colored bricks. Looking up, Gon could see the astounding size of the castle was certainly nothing short of extraordinary. He saw brick after carefully laid brick, large windows allowing drapes to flow out with the breeze. It was beautiful—magical even. His eyes widened, and a boyish grin overcame him.

His engrossment with the gorgeous palace was interrupted by an “aha!” from his new friend. He looked back down to the pale child just in time to see him pushing against a system of rocks. The prince then pressed down on a certain section, and it slid open. This cleverly-hidden, stone door was impossible to see from the outside, so he was infinitely impressed by Killua's ability to observe, yet he had no time to bask in it. He was soon being led up a curving flight of stone stairs. The path, however, soon became pitch black; the door behind them had shut on its own, and there appeared to be absolutely no torches or candles to illuminate the small space itself.

“You have to be quiet in here,” came a mellifluous whisper from overhead. Gon decided to comply, rather swept up in everything that was going on. After than, he could only hear footsteps. Oddly enough—unless his finely tuned ears truly sought it out—the sound of the prince's footfalls was inaudible. They walked for what seemed like a few minutes on end (but that could have just been Gon's nerves) in a seemingly endless, circular ascension. He was just about to speak up when he heard a soft “Shh” from over head, followed by several pats on the stone wall. In a short moment, a click was heard, and another low squeak. Dim light flooded into the tower they were in, but Gon had no time to discern why it was so dark.

The peasant was pulled into the slightly lighter room, scanning around curiously. His eyes were trained well to spot in the darkness; he did much of the hunting for his family after all. Alas, his efforts were foiled again as sudden, white light filled the room. His pupils practically murdered his brain, so it took a few moments before he could really see the room. When he did, however, he was nothing short of amazed.

“It's so...” Was there even a word for this? The floors were a dark ebony, and the bed frame and walls matched. Saving from the monotony of the nearly black wood was the elegant trimming decorating the walls and the edges of the floor. It was a pleasant color: a soft greyish blue. The room looked like a storm, complete with the silken, blue raindrops and silver linings. The bed spread was a grandiose, embroidered satin, and lotus designs were delicately sewn to perfection into the ocean of fabric. The pillows were numerous, like a sea of soft white clouds floating a lot the starry, night sky. The bed was a canopy-style luxury, and the translucent fabrics descending from the top were all a dark blue, little bits of silver strewn about: the perfect night sky get away from the stormy weather. Every single piece of furniture in the room was the same ebony that made up the floor. A rocking chair, a rocking horse, a small table, a little desk, and two nightstands, each with a cerulean vase atop. The stands sat on either side of the bed, and in the intricate vases lied two bundles of white and yellow Alstroemerias. Even the lavish paintings and breathtaking tapestries on the wall couldn't distract from the brightest view in the room. Behind the flowers was a prodigious window, one that had been covered just moments before by two opaque, navy blue curtains.

“Does it suit your likings?” In his wonder, Gon had almost forgotten about the prince, and when he looked to the boy once more, he was stunned. The flowers were nothing compared to the pale figure before him. Killua looked like a ghost in this room, and the light seemed to all be drawn directly to him, and all he could do was reflect. The peasant watched curiously as this boy plopped down on the perfectly-made bed as if it were exhausting to do just that.

“It beats a pile of hay on a dirt floor.” He finally breathed out in reply, just standing and looking around. He observed every torch, every antique, everything.

“You're... Joshing me, correct?”

“Ah,” but now his attention was back on his new friend. “I wish.”

“Well... come here then. Let us rest for now so that we may train later, when mother and father are asleep.” Finally having permission, Gon wandered over, pushing the curtain aside and sparing Killua a smile.

“Are you sure? I'm a little dirty.”

“Ah, no no, worry not; the maids will clean it in the morning. Come, lay down beside me.” With an entire king-sized sea of a bed, Gon was surprised the prince wanted to nap next to him, but he wouldn't turn down the offer another time. Instead, he nodded, smiling as he laid next to Killua. The curtains around the canopy were thin but there were many, and the light was successfully dimmed to something tolerable. Between the long day he had and the most comfortable feeling in his life, Gon was easily cajoled into sleep, lying sideways on a grand bed next to the crown prince of the Garthian Kingdom. Said prince followed soon after, and the two boys, peasant and prince, poor and rich, were just that: two boys.

Chapter Text

Ever since their first day together, Gon and Killua were inseparable. Their mutual affinity was spurred by their quality of being almost complete foils of one another. Gon was far too outspoken, and often his insolent nature brought him to argue with passing nobles and servants. Killua, however, was rather quiet, but in a somewhat haughty way. It seemed he never talked to anyone but Gon until he had to use his high position to deter the anger of offended passer-bys towards said friend. They were a good balance: “Yin and Yang,” Killua had said once. This being said, they rubbed off on each other quite a bit. Gon’s loquacious nature spurred the prince to be slightly more talkative himself. Killua, in return, taught Gon how to be a bit more responsible. Soon, the peasant was the only candidate possible for his squire in Killua's eyes. His parents, however, had other ideas. They only had a rudimentary understanding of what a squire truly was, but they knew it was an important position. Therefore, they were going to choose for Killua.

The “squire” was a position that was fairly new for the family; they all hailed from the east, after all, and were settling in a western civilization. The land was just something they had acquired through a marriage between King Sylva's father and the previous queen here; however, Sylva was of a pure Oriental bloodline, as was Queen Kikyo. The retired king had nominated Sylva to be king, and the old queen had a conniption; apparently in western civilizations, it wasn't okay to make the son that you had to a concubine the king. Since then, the family had taken a few measures to be more western. This included adding roles such as pages and squires.

In actuality, Killua already had a page: a young brunet by the name of Zushi. In the past, he was quite rude to him. Honestly, in the past, he was quite rude in general. Since befriending Gon, however, he began to be a little more pleasant. Earlier that day, in fact, he was sparring with his hand-to-hand combat teacher, Wing, along with Zushi and Gon, and he was doing an excellent job.

“Very good,” yet the prince had been dangled inches above the ground, his ankle held up by the tal, thin teacher, “but you still have a long way to go.” Killua was absolutely abashed, and he squirmed, aiming to strike his instructor once more. His friends, on the other hand, were quite impressed. He was the only one who could actually land a hit on their teacher. In fact, as the three boys now walked down the central west wing corridor, it was all Zushi and Gon could talk about.

“And then Killua came in like-” and here Gon did an immitation punch, “but it was only a feint! Then he went all-” this time a kick, “and flipped but it was a fake-out too! And then hit him on the backswing, using his other hand as a distraction!”

“I know; I was there too, Gon.” Zushi laughed nervously. He still wasn't accustomed to this ball of energy yet. “Killua has amazing strategy skills.” Most of all, Killua still wasn't used to this constant, intense praise. He was absolutely florrid, and he could feel himself blushing all over. His cheeks, the tips of his ears, and even the back of his neck were all warm behind comprehension.

“Hush up, you two...” His scolding was a not-realy-angry mumble, and it only made Gon grin at him.

“It's true! You're an amazing fighter!”

“It's only because I have years of training!”

“But to land a hit on-”

“What do you mean you don't know?!” A sudden, panicked voice disrupted their conversation. She sounded upset, dispairing even. It scared the boys, and for a brief moment, Killua was reminded of a mother animal trying to protect its young. Gon's face, however, flashed with recognition. The boy rushed foreward suddenly, and the movement prompted the other two to follow after. The shout had come from the throne room.

“Like I said,” The Queen herself laughed, pointing to her unwelcomed visitor. “We don't have your child's corpse. We sent all the bodies back to town. He was probably just a snack for the rats in our dungeon.” Finely-manicured fingers delicately gripped a pipe, and Kikyo drew it in before removing it from her blood red lips and breathing it out. Her husband was gone on business, so she had a few days to make every decision all by herself. “I'm sure you'll see him on your trip down there~,” and her little purr was punctuated by another drag from the ornate pipe and a smokey breath.

“Mito-san!?” The sight that greeted Gon upon his entrnace was enough to stop him in his steps. His mother was currently being held up by a smirking, laughing guard while another held a thin blade against the pale skin of her neck. His speaking garnered the attention of everyone present, and the captured redhead immediately began to tear up, eyes widening as her shoulders shifted slightly.

“G-Gon...? Gon!” And suddenly a smile was stretching her trembling lips.

“Mito-San!” The boy's face was in no better shape as far as happy, fat tears went. They rolled down his cheeks in rivers; it was his mother! “Mito-Sa-” But the moment he stepped foot past the corridoor he came from, a hand grabbed him from the shadow of a nearby pillar. The third figure was another hidden guard, and he soon had the child in a choke hold, preventing his escape.

“Oh,” The queen sang, sitting up straighter in her chair as her subject emerged forward, pushing and pulling Gon along. “Oh how wonderful~! Two rats caught!” Another long inhale and exhale of pipe smoke was interrupted by a giggle. “Both to the dungeon, go on, hurry now~!” All three guards exchanged a malicious glance, then proceeded to carry the two captives off as they writhed and shouted.

“Set them down.” And the two stopped. Shoulders raised, fear in their hearts, sweat on their brows, they turned to see the frightful prospect of the sword protegy bearing his signiture twin dao blades. The twelve-year-old's glare alone was enough to make them drop their captives.

“Pr-Prince Killua!”

“Y-Your highness, I-”

“Leave.” Those empty eyes grew closer as he took a step further. A myraid of death and despare pranced in his irises as he raised a single sword at them.

“Wh-”

“I said leave before I chop you up and feed you to the rats.” And, resembling three rabits scampering in therror, the guards rushed off, leaving an excited Gon and a rather shaken Mito. Unsure of what was going on, the redhead kneeled down and drew her son to herself. Her stare was unwaveringly fixed on this archangel-like figure as he put his weapons away. See could easily see it now, his white tunic torn and covered in blood from his fall from heaven, blades stained copper. She was terrified, and yet, his icy eyes were no longer on her or her son, but rather fixated on the queen herself.

“Insolent coward! If you have an issue betwix us, take it not out upon my companions, less your heart be pierced by my blade. Discuss it with no other but me.” And yet even as his eyes persisted, the queen could only smile. Even as Killua left with Zushi, Gon, and now Mito as well, the queen could only smile.

Sylva was right; Sylva was right . This was wonderful; giving Killua something to protect was defnitely the right choice; she had never seen such a vicious expression on her son, and she was as proud as ever. Her bright red lips connected to her pipe again, and she jovially took another intake, laughing out the smoke. Yes, yes, she couldn't wait to see Killua crush him.

Killua had been expecting an immediate request for Gon's return, yet upon entering his room once more with his two friends and one visitor in tow, he was suddenly thanked. The tall, lanky redhead began to tear up, her tired eyes refusing to let anthing truly spill over. Her cheeks lacked any excess fat, but weren't hallow enough to scare anyone. She folded her hands in front of herself as she spoke, looking down to the prince as if he were something truly worth praising. Evident callouses on her palms spoke volumes, but they were written upon her skin in a language Killua knew nothing of.

“I've never... I've never seen Gon so clean and well-fed. I... and he's alive, and that alone means I owe you my life.” She was quick to give a curtsy to the porcelain doll in front of her, but Killua could only shake his head and wave his hands dismissively.

“No need to be so formal, truly; he's just...” A glance towards the tan boy clinging to Mito's skirt as if he were a toddler once more brought a smile to Killua's lips, but he was unable to finish his sentence, so Gon finished it for him.

“We're best friends! His name's Killua, and he's really nice! He's a great fighter; the best out of all three of us! Ah,” and as Killua's face practically caught fire behind pale fingers that tried to hide it, Gon pointed animatedly to the slightly awkward brunet standing behind the prince. “and that's my other dear friend! His name's Zushi! He's pretty strong too! He's been training to be a soldier for a few years now, even though he's so young; isn't that amazing?! And this is-”

“Gon,” Mito's voice broke his long, animated speech. He turned his attention back to his mother, hands halting their pointing and pulling. “Where's your room? Y-you do have somewhere to sleep, correct?” Yet this question caused a confusion to wash over the boy. Brief fear stiffened Mito's shoulders ever so slightly.

“That's such a weird question, Mito!” Gon's laughter meant that it was her turn to be confused. “This is my room! I share it with Killua!”

“P-Prince Killua.” This was a nearly silent correction from Zushi; Gon liked to skip formalities more often than not.

“Yeah! That's what I said! Killua is a great roommate!” The last part was directed back to a wide-eyed redhead. She was completely shocked and desperately trying to process everything in the room all at once. The bed sheets alone must have costed more money than she had ever seen in her life. “Though, sometimes he does kick in his sleep! Other nights he's just really clingy! Usually he likes to hold onto me because I'm warm, and he gets cold easi- ack!” Gon's rambling was cut short when a bright red Killua smacked him over the head unceremoniously.

“Y-You idiot! That's super personal!”

“Owwww~, but Killua~!!!!!”

“No buts! Drop the subject!” His voice was a high squeak, and his formal speech was long-gone. Mito watched before her the prince turn into a boy once more, or maybe, rather, he let the fact that he was just a boy shine through for a brief moment. She smiled. She smiled, and she laughed. In this small, beautiful moment, the wealthy prince was at the mercy of the peasant's puppy-dog eyes; for this beautiful moment, the two boys were equal in every way.

For this beautiful moment, the two boys were just friends .

Mito was given a job cooking once a week; every Sunday she would journey up to the castle to help with the weekly meetings. Those quickly became Gon's days to spend a few hours away from the prince to spend some time with his mother, who Killua eventually found out was actually his aunt; peasants were quite odd, weren't they?

Today just so happened to be Sunday, and Gon was helping in the kitchen as usual. Killua decided from the beginning that he would give them space, so that's precisely what he was doing. Currently, he was playing with his little... sister. It seemed kind of weird to Killua that the sweet girl at his side was a girl at all. After all, Alluka had been born “male,” but like many priests of ancient times, decided to “become female.” It was a decision she had made recently, so Killua was still getting used to it, but it made Alluka happy, so he was happy! Currently, they were weaving together little flower crowns. Alluka had insisted on the prince making some for his brother, but that was absolutely the only reason for it. (In reality, he probably would have made a few extras by accident anyway).

The ring in front of him was composed of delicate stems of small delphinium flowers. It was tradition to give someone you truly care for their appellation flower: Gon Delphinium Freecss. His finger tips were stained green, and he was angry and frustrated, but he still tossed out any little flower that wasn't perfect. In the end the flower crown he made for his friend was better than any other he had made before, and he was feeling quite accomplished.

He felt so accomplished that he sent a servant to go fetch Gon to come get it now.

However, this childish merriment was short-lived, as it had distracted him from the true meaning of this Sunday. A random pat on the head as he finished tying two golden aster flowers together brought reality crashing down upon him. In his hands lay the evidence of his subconcious, yet he was still compeletely caught off-guard. He turned his attention up slowly, trying to be as calm as possible as he gazed upon the tall, crouching figure behind him. Black, silky tresses fell casually to either side of the man's face, and the rest of his long hair was typed back, held in place by a beautiful, ornate, golde set of hair sticks, jade beads fell from most, and on the right of where the pony tail met the crown of his hair, a bright yellow aster clip resided.

“I-Illumi, I-I,”

“Ah, Killu, I ruined the surprise, didn't I?” In reality, Killua was even surpsied as his brother pointed to the blossom in his hand. Yes, he must have known deep down that his eldest brother, Illumi Aster Zoldyck, was returning today, and that is why he was delicately weaving together this crown. The flowers were oddly large, larger than the delphiniums for sure, so it was taking awhile to coalesce them nicely, but in the long run, it meant he wouldn't have to do as many knots.

“Y-Yeah, you did, Illu-nii; it was supposed to be a present.”

“Mmm, I suppose I should leave then?” Killua was intimated by the purely black gaze that pierced his own. Although Illumi was just as pale as he was, and his delicate features were more beautiful than any queen or king history had laid eyes upon, his eyes were deep and dark. If you weren't careful, they could consume you, and Killua was treading on thin ice. Ice the same deep, dark teal of Illumi's ornate cheongsam (which made Killua's white tangzhuang look incredibly pedestrian) threatened to drown him. Many nights he had suffered the punishments of his deeds from his brother. Recently, he had to leave for business, but now he was back. Everything that Killua done over the past few weeks without his guidance suddenly crashed upon him, filling him with fear.

“U-until I'm done. Th-then we may partake in some sword practice, perhaps?” A hum, as if he was actually considering turning down his little brother's offer, errupted from Illumi's throat.

“Yes, I do believe I would like that.” Just as Killua thought he was safe, Illumi pointed at the ring of delphiniums on the ground.

“Though, I am curious as to whom those are for.” And in some dark twist of fate, Gon chose just then to rush into the meadow the three Zoldycks were sitting in. Illumi was no idiot; as soon as Killua's face was wrought with fear, he knew he had found just the man, or rather, just the boy. He stood, turning to face this peasant rather than just glancing over his shoulder at him. Behind him, Killua stood, silently waving his friend away. Gon, however, didn't take the hint. Instead, he ran right up to Illumi with a huge grin on his lips, bowing in deference to Illumi before extending a hand out to him.

“I haven't seen you around here! You must be Prince Illumi, right? Killua has told me all about you!” But instead of a cheerful handshake, Gon received a violent grip around his wrist, and immediately he flinched, trying to tug the pale fingers off of him. He couldn't, and he was struggling, and Illumi was strong, and he was pulling him away, and he was pulling him away from Killua, and-

And Killua striked him. He didn't even realize what he had done until Gon was stumbling back and Illumi, who now sported a stark red mark on his cheek, was looking at him in shock.

Soon those firm, white fingers were on his elbow, whisking Killua away forcefully as Gon shouted frantically from the background. The only thing holding him back was Alluka, who was quite literally holding him back. Killua was in for a whipping, which was normal for defying authority, but if Gon tried to defend him, he wouldn't make it out of the exchange alive.

Later that evening, Gon carried two dishes up to Killua's room. The pale prince lay on his bed, shirtless and unmoving. His back was out, new welts and streaks on display, and Gon felt an awful, dark stirring in the pit of his heart. Illumi had hurt Killua earlier that day, and now Gon wanted to hurt Illumi.

“I brought you dinner~” his voice was soft and gentle. He closed the door, and as much as he liked basking in the moon and starlight, lit a few candles before walking over to Killua's bedside. A groan greeted him, and slowly, his new friend began pushing himself up weakly.

“Here, let me help,” and against the prince's protests, Gon assisted his friend. Killua could manage to sit up, head still spinning from the days events. He was too weak to even complain about how gently his squire (as he decided Gon had to be his squire) fed him. The rice went down easily, and Killua was actually thankful for the help after awhile; though, his face was bright red in embarrassment.

“Sorry, Gon, I ruined your Sunday.”

“Killua,” a pout suddenly overcam his friend's face, “you're the real idiot between us! You didn't ruin anything; you stuck up for me, so,” he leaned forward and placed a little kiss on Killua's cheek, something the prince had often seen shared between warriors or governmental acquantences, “thank you~.” The simple gesture had him ten-times redder than before, but if Gon noticed it, he didn't mention it. Instead, the tan boy fed him more, patiently and sweetly. Killua wasn't sure when he fell asleep, but when he awoke, his friend was still there. Like a solid rock, a vestige of hope, a solid docking place admist tumultuous sea, Gon was there, and Killua had never been more thankful to see someone drooling on his expensive sheets.

From that day on, Gon began taking sword lessons with Killua under his master, Illumi. The initial hatred he felt for the man didn't boil down much at all, but it only fueld his battling skills further. This gentle routine continued for quite some time, and eventually, the whole royal family was more or less accustomed to the peasant intruder. He began to always be at Killua's side: in meetings, in training, in tutoring. Gon was pretty clever, and he easily caught onto anything that didn't involve numbers and functions, so they began taking lessons with each other in history, literature (though Gon had to be taught how to read and right first), and, sadly, mathematics.

The two were nearing their first complete year of friendship when Gon finally realized what was wrong with the prince.

“You don’t want to be king.” He was as blunt as he always was. They were sword fighting when he announced it. There was a tacit suggestion that they stop swinging their blades, but Killua ignored it altogether.

“Why do you think that?”

“I just know it.”

“You’re not wrong.” A feint, a block, and a dodge to right followed. Killua was trying his best to ignore the figure sitting at the foot of the nearby pillar. They were in the garden like always; their feet danced across the worn ground, grass long demolished by weeks upon months of damage from their own boots.

“Why are you worried? You have two older brothers.” Far away sat Illumi, observing the sparring match with a watchful eye. He couldn't make out what was being said, but he would notice if it was anything to scandelous according to Killua's facial expressions.

“It doesn't matter. Mother and Father think only I can be king...”

“Your brother is a master tactician, isn't he?”

“He is.”

“Your brother has master the sword, hasn't he?”

“He has.”

“Then why?”

“I, myself, fail to understand why. Father insists I look like a prince.”

“Look like a prince?”

“Yes,” Killua used this temporary lapse in his companion’s concentration to land an especially misleading feint followed by a forceful attack that sent the blade in Gon’s hand flying. The glimmering tip of a sword pressed lightly against Gon’s throat was enough to satisfy Illumi, who stood from his space, pushing back his long, onyx hair and straightening out his silk attire. His eyes were as dark as his hair, but he looked to the boys as if they didn’t seem like two black holes in a sea of white skin.

“That’s all for today!” He shouted just loud enough to be heard, and as much as he wanted to stay with his little brother, he could not. Killua seemed to need his guidance no longer, as he found his out light of wisdom in the form of this undereducated peasant with capacious eyes, filled with hope, joy, and everything else the young prince needed in his life. It hurt Illumi greatly to think that Killua outgrew his help, so instead, a part of him just assured him it was a phase. Killua would outgrow Gon, truly slit his throat open one day, and return to his side. After all, Killua loved him; his little brother loved him more than anyone else. He knew that for sure; even his mother told him that from birth. This would all blow over soon, and Illumi would gain his favorite little brother in no time.

As far as Gon and Killua went, the two were completely different in behavior, yet tantamount in regards to what said behavior had to offer to their friendship. Killua's level of acquiescent wit was commensurate only to Gon’s level of tenacious instinct; Gon’s level of good-natured naivety was equivalent only to Killua's’s level of jadedly-cruel discernment. They were a perfect balance to the other, and although Aster knew this, he refused to acknowledge it. Instead, he focused more on correnation plans, more on himself, and more on that annoying concubine that had convinced him to let Gon live in the first place; that reminded him, he owed Hisoka a punch for the bad advice. This in mind, he began to walk to his room, ready to let out a little steam. When he was out of earshot, the boys' conversation continue, albeit quietly at first.

“Why don’t you just run away?” It came out as a whisper, but Killua still stiffened at the suggestion and look around frantically.

“Imbecile! You can’t just say something like that so loudly!” Another whisper was the reply, but words from the prince always meant harsher and more evasive speech than what he truly thought.

“Run away with me; before you turn 18, let’s run away.” Everything logical in Killua's’s head rang sharply. It was the most random, idealistic thing to say, yet he should have seen it coming. This boy before him was a mere thirteen years of age, and yet—with his hand extended and a larger-than-life grin on his face—he had already mastered the art of persuasion. The poignant passion in those golden-flecked eyes, the ineffable insight in those dumb dimples, and the manifestation of aplomb in Gon’s stance had won him over with no effort at all. The worst part was that Gon knew he had won his companion over. He giggled, light as an ethereal feather, and took Killua's hand in his. “Let’s start planning!”

Chapter Text

“You were scolded, hmm?” In the darkened room of black silks and ivory wood, two men sat. Prince Illumi was flicking through a book on political theory when his redheaded companion spoke up. Hisoka had been more silent than usual, so he supposed he owed him a response.
“I'm not to whip Killu. I had a temporary lapse in judgment.” His eyes scanned the page. The text was not saying much he hadn't already read in thousands of books that he had perused. The conversation Hisoka was offering was infinitely more entertaining, but he couldn't let the man know.
“Your composure is usually so hard to break~. I wonder what made you snap~?” This response, Illumi decided, deserved no acknowledgment. It would not matter if he had to spend years at the disposal of his awful text; Hisoka wasn't about to get the truth. “I wonder if it had something to do with that young boy, Gon, was it?”
“Mmm, and I wonder how you know his name. After all, I've never mentioned it, and you're not to leave my room without my permission.” His voice, like his gaze, remained steady, but he turned back to the redhead laying on his side, sprawled out on the slate black sheets below him. The man's dress was colorful and layered, so it looked as if a huge paint blob had been placed on his bed, long pale limbs extending out from it along with a porcelain face decorated with delicate face paint and two golden eyes. Suddenly, Illumi was questioning his choice in concubines.
“Oh, dear prince, you just know the idle life is not for me. I do hope you understand.”
“I do not.” The prince stood, a new anger inside of him as he walked calmly over to Hisoka. “Maybe you could explain it to me?” His own pale hand came to rest upon the handle of the sword of his hip as he looked down into blazing, yellow irises in the candle-lit bedroom. The dim light illuminated the way the man smirked at the threat.
“Oh, and what will you do if I don't?” Then the staring contest began. They just looked deep into the other man's eyes and gazed and gazed. Eventually, Illumi realized that Hisoka's resolve was stronger, and there was nothing he could do to hold his normally stoic gaze like that much longer. He really did not mind if the redhead knew of Gon; it was just something about him knowing that meant he was directly resisting Illumi's orders. He was frustrated, but not enraged. His hand dropped from his hip, and he let out a small sigh. He began to comb his fingers through his hair while letting out a brief explanation, trying his best to preserve his pride. He tried to present his explanation in a way that made it sound like a pity story for his servant.
“He stole food, that peasant boy. He said he was hungry, so he took food from my little brother, and when I went to punish him, Killua objected, so I whipped him instead.” This had been only the latest of many similar incidents. “It seems he won't learn the punishment for his actions.” Hisoka's expression softened tremendously, and Illumi's distress seemed to only make him smile.
“Mm, no,” and for the first time in their little exchange, the concubine moved, shifting so that he was now sitting up in front of the prince. His hands came to rest on Illumi's hips, and even though he received an angry, stern look, he held them there. “It seems he's just found something that he fears more than you.” The suggestion of that alone was enough to make Illumi step forward, a disgusted look on his face.
“Is this filth threatening my Killu? You certainly seem to know, so tell me.”
“No, dear prince, I'm afraid it's a little something more than just fear. You see,” and now his hands were on Illumi's shoulders, pulling him down to his level. His voice dropped, to a whisper, a spirit. Suddenly, Hisoka had that incredible gravity that drew the royal in the first place. The black room and the white furniture and the candle light all disappeared, and for a moment, it was only the two of them there. “Killua is afraid of losing Gon more than he is of being hurt by you~.”
Everything stopped for a second. The air, the birds, the moon, the stars, possibly his own heart. What that said, what that implied deeply struck the prince. Had someone replaced him in Killua's heart? Did Killua care for someone more than he cared for Illumi? Even after all these years of guarding him, training him, and keeping him safe, he wasn't his treasured little brother's number one any longer? Impossible. Inane. Fatuous. Confused, surprised, and a bit embarrassed from his own obliviousness, Illumi allowed himself to sink down more into this ethereal embrace and be led away from reality in the arms of this redhead.

Ever since Killua turned 13, his parents were assigning him with small tasks around the palace. If he was to be king one day, he'd have to get used to it. Today was just like every other day this week. His parents asked him to take over judiciary duties, and just like every other day this week, he invited Gon to come with him. The boy was a necessary constant now, especially with how often Killua was being physically punished by his older brothers for associating and standing up for Gon. It was awful, but the consoling of his best friend was the best medicine he could ask for.
His squire wasn't taking these beatings standing down, though. Well, actually, he was, but that was only because Killua insisted and forced his silence. He banished Gon to their bedchambers, and had his closest maid, Canary, watch the boy to ensure he was safe inside. The last thing the prince needed was for his friend to see him being torn up at the whipping post.
Speaking of which, he was still aching terribly from yesterday, so Gon holding his hand was a must. By the time Killua was sitting at the throne—which was incredibly too prodigious for him—there was a line of peasants, frantic and afraid, lined up to the door. He waved for the tan boy to sit beside him on the throne, so he did, and together, the two boys looked down to the old woman in rags before them. A guard shoved her down onto one knee before the prince (and his squire), but Killua only shook his head.
“I told you, there's no need for them to bow. What are her charges?” The guard seemed reluctant, and even grunted before breathing out several accusations, all seemingly revolving around this woman being a master thief.
“Tell me, miss, do you have children?” Years ago, maybe Killua would have instantly sent her to death as he was instructed to, but if Gon had taught him one thing during their time together, it was that the poor lead a difficult life. Every little luxury Killua had was emphasized by Gon's ingenuous statements here and there. He was impressed by everything; how Killua bathed often, how there was a large, private bath in the palace, how the prince had never once went to bed hungry, how Killua had always had his own room and his own bed; poverty was harsh, and though it was harder to see nowadays due to Gon's constant nourishment and cleansing, it was still etched into his mind and his soul. The woman in front of him now, it was etched into every line on her face and every tear in her clothing. It was carved into her, and it was carved into every criminal after said ambivalent woman as well.
“...Yes, what does it matter?” She swallowed thickly. Lying would do her no good, but her children were top priority. If this little boy tried to harm one hair on their little heads-
“Have them stop by the castle every day at five o'clock from now on. I will have the kitchen servants set aside food for dinner, breakfast, and a light lunch for them and you. You punishment is that you are under house arrest until further notice.”
“Please take that time to relax, miss!” Gon spoke the words Killua merely implied, and for some reason that made the prince smile. The tears that sprang to the disheveled mother's eyes helped his mood as well. He spared a glance at his beaming friend and giggled a bit, bumping his hip a little more into Gon's leg. The peasant seemed surprised, but turned his attention to the prince and gave him a grin. Killua reached over and poked his nose, leaving his squire blinking and a bit confused as he looked back down to his subjects below.
“Who's next?”

The next week followed much like the first, as did the week after that, and the week after that. After several months passed, however, King Sylva had began to notice that the amount of public executions was almost down to none. The only people publicly killed were those who were charged with multiple murders or abuses, and even they had a choice between banishment, life in the dungeon, and an execution.
The latest case, however, was quite unique. Nearly the whole village had shown up to witness it, the entire royal family included. A serial killer, a single peasant who had been responsible for the deaths of uncountable victims, had challenged the prince to a duel upon receiving the choice of death or life in prison. He was brought before the young prince, hands bound and eyes empty. Killua had seen that look many times before, wore it all through his combat training. He was more accustomed to this than he'd like to admit, and he himself had often been the one to give the death order when there was a conflict while his father was away. His father loved this; his mother adored this. Executions, at one time, were second nature for the prince; if he wasn't ordering them, he was watching them at his eldest brother's side. This vicious ruling was what drove their dynasty to become as successful as it was. The king thought a public duel could be entertaining, so he allowed it; rather, he forced it. It would be a learning experience for Killua, and a chance to show Kikyo just how much having a companion would help their son in the long run.
Sylva cared not to remember the name of the deranged blond, but he did remember the sense of accomplishment that overcame him when he saw his son effortlessly drive a sword through the man's heart.
Killua's career as a judge had ended, but his job as executioner had only just begun.

It happened so often now: killers across the town, across the nation, across the continent were all lined up to be judged by the prestigious Zoldyck family, and then subsequently executed by the renowned Prodigy of the Twin Blades, Killua Zoldyck.
It was exhilarating at first, satisfying even. The sensation of blood through his fingers was almost comforting, but as time passed, the boy began to forget the difference between his own hand and the blade he held in it.
Faces of the fallen blurred together in his battles and in his nightmares. Blood stuck under his finger nails, and he always smelled like a pocket of coins.
Muscles began to invade over his limbs, turning the slim boy bulkier, bit by tiny bit, battle by short-lived battle.
Killua feared his conscience had left him. He wasn't sure anymore if he could control himself, and this drove a stake in his and Gon's relationship. They stopped talking so much. Killua began disappearing in the morning and at night Sometimes he would vanish into thin air in the middle of a conversation, just like a ghost. His squire was worried, but at least this way, he was safe. Every time Killua was thrown into a night terror or his pulse began to pick up in a sure-fire sign of pointless panic, he would abandon his friend, too afraid to stay by his side.
He may have been trained his whole life to strike down those he needed to, but the sensation of actually killing someone made him feel like a monster in human flesh. Killua was a natural born killer; it was easy to see. His angelic appearance hid something more sinister, a devil, a demon, and Gon was the earth that he refused to haunt. Weeks passed like this, Killua unable to so much as meet his friend's gaze, unable to form words around him, unable to smile. Killua was unhappy; Killua hated himself.
He lost track of how many had fallen to his hands, lost track of the days, weeks, and months that passed by, yet still, his friend persisted. He was no better than the serial killers lined up for him to take on each day, but still, Gon saw it differently.
“You only get better with your sword everyday, Killua!” This time, his squire was trying to talk to him in his room when he arrived back from his execution duel. Killua was like a more modern gladiator now, he supposed. Men who fought to kill for glory and for the entertainment of others: they were was he was emulating in a sick, twisted way. He was disgusted; he was disgusting.
He felt like throwing up, and here was Gon, shoving sunlight down his dry throat like a scorching burn. His smile lit up the room, and it hurt Killua's eyes. He was too bright; and the prince had to look away just like every other day. The prince had to step away, step back, and breathe just like every other day. Only today, he felt his legs shaking, felt his head doing somersaults. He had gained a few nice cuts today; the warrior he went up against was much older and stronger than he; a true gladiator was slain at his hands today, so that means he was a monster. A monster didn't deserve this wonderful friend before him, so he began to back up to the door.
“Stay back, Gon.” Yet Gon stepped forward.
“Get away, Gon.” Yet Gon came to him.
“Don't touch me, Gon.” Yet Gon wrapped him in a hug.
“Stop, j-just, just stop.” Yet, against his own words, Killua's arms looped around his friend, and a dam inside of him broke. He shrieked and sobbed, and tears poured onto his friend's shoulders. Everything this entire year was a huge blur of bloodshed. He felt like he was drowning, and he felt like the pleasant happiness he shared with Gon was over because he was such an awful -creature-. At the end of the day, however, sometimes the pleasant thought of his childish life with his squire was all that kept him fighting. Gon was ready to give that all back, and as much as he convinced himself he was unworthy, Killua accepted it.
In this warm hold that he did not deserve, Killua wept. He wept, and he wept, and eventually he passed out, as quickly and suddenly as the devastating year passed before him. That made Gon laugh a little. Even after all this, after all the bloodshed he was forced to cause, and after all the misery swirled inside him, Killua was still a boy, just like him. He would have to speak to the king in the morning; surely he would understand when he saw what state his son was in, and it was so close to Killua's birthday too; he just wanted his best friend to be happy on the day he turned 14.

The next morning, Killua woke up to an empty bed. Gon wasn't there.
Gon wasn't there.
-Gon wasn't there.-
He immediately panicked, looking deep into himself for the answer. Had he hurt Gon? What had he done? Why?
Why?
Why?
-Why?-
He launched up from the bed, immediately in a cold sweat. He was immediately in a scramble for the door. Merely in a silk wrap, Killua bolted down to the kitchen. Was it Sunday? Had he forgotten? Everything was centered around this sudden ephemeral feeling. Nothing lasted, and everything remained. The red lotuses on his robe bled before his eyes, and he panicked, blinking away the illusion as best as he could. Tears replaced the liquid copper seeping down, and he choked back a sob.
“Gon?!” He banged on the fragile wooden door connecting the dinning hall to the kitchen, and immediately, a waiter threw it open, seemingly panicked because of the terror in Killua's knock.
“Prince?!”
“Gon!”
“Wh-” Killua clasped a hand urgently around the man's wrist, angry, paranoid, desperate.
“Where's Gon?”

Smack after smack, shred after shred, drop after drop, a heavy, leather whip was brought down. It had been nearly an hour of hard swings against an empty, dark canvas, and finally, the hand delivering this all began to tremble. This boy, this young, impoverished boy was innocent.
He saw it all happen before him, he knew, and yet here he was, striking such an unfortunate child. He wanted to say it was all because his hand was forced, yet, deep inside, he knew it was mostly his rage. He would have given up long ago, when he initially realized that Gon wasn't going to break any time soon. Maybe he would have even refused the order from his father back in the throne room.
There...
There Gon had asked the King a question that he had never would have had the guts to ask as long as he lived.
“Can you please stop forcing Killua to kill?”
And just like that, here they were. Here Illumi was, feeling conflicted more than he ever had before in his life. He should have just let him go. -He should have just let him go.- He couldn't; he wouldn't. He needed this.
Another swing down,
and another,
and another,
and-
A scream.
What sounded like the final screech of a wild animal ripped through the little, dusty courtyard. Suddenly, it wasn't just the boy in front of him tied to a single block of timber like it had been for the past hour. This isolated world was interrupted by someone, a spirit, a ghost; it was his brother.
It was Killua shielding Gon with his own body. Blood trickled down the gash left by the whip, scarlet running down the little slit in his exposed shoulder where the leather had landed. The whip dropped, and Illumi was suddenly reminded of Hisoka's word's he heard almost a year ago.
-“Killua is afraid of losing Gon more than he is of being hurt by you~.”-
And suddenly it wasn't right; nothing about this was right, so he dropped everything, his pride, his security, years upon years of drilling and conditioning, and ran to his brother's side.
-I'm so sorry- he wanted to say, but he had no place to do so, so instead, he reached out and plucked his screaming, kicking brother up, and easily sliced through the rope holding Gon in place. Once the second boy was on board, they were off to the infirmary. The peasant was desperately trying to wriggle around to touch Killua, to hold him. The boy had been so still and quiet during the punishment, that Illumi thought he had fallen asleep, but evidently, he was wrong. Gon had just endured everything until now.
Until Killua was hurt, Gon was perfectly okay.
The knowledge that Gon cared about Killua just as much as the prince cared for his companion was terrifying; it meant so many things that Illumi couldn't bring himself to ponder.
Most of all, it just made him realize that he'd never have the space that Gon does in his brother's heart, and that hurt more than any whipping he had ever received from his mother or father.

Gon made a quick recovery. It seemed that he was the quickest healer of all three. His body and soul were young and full of life. His bubbly attitude kept him constantly healing, and soon, only faint scars were visible on his dark, freckled skin.
Killua's cut still wouldn't stop opening every once in a while, seemingly just like his emotions. He was particularly weak for quite some time, and sometimes, even Gon was unable to console him; it seemed Killua blamed himself for the injuries his friend sustained. That taxing guilt was causing him to seem ill and be bedridden, so in the end, even Gon felt guilty for not being able to do more.
Illumi, meanwhile, blamed himself. He wasn't seen for quite a few days. Only his concubine, the eccentric redhead, left their room anymore. He kept everyone updated, yet still, there was a certain emptiness left in the family. As dysfunctional as it was, Alluka still tried to visit her big brother everyday, Kalluto offered folded crane after folded crane in empathy, and even Milluki tried to encourage his elder brother to step outside, but nothing worked. Killua was still shut-up in his room, trying to get better, and the King and Queen were too disappointed in their son to do anything but leave on foreign business. Overall, everything was awful; an ax was driven through their fractured family, and left over was Gon, trying to piece everything back together again.
Well, mainly, he was trying to piece together Killua again.
That was going... turbulently at best.
He was making no real progress; Killua just wanted to lay in bed. He wasn't required to kill anymore due to his sudden ill state, but that just meant he didn't get out anymore. His squire literally had to get his food day and night and bring it to their room. Gon had to clean up the furniture and the bed. Gon had to bathe his friend and himself. Gon even had to attend combat practice on his own; it was awful, not to mention lonely. Actually, none of it would be bad if he wasn't alone. It would be... It would be fun like it always used to be.
It just so happened that Gon had just returned from sword practice (with a new teacher, the maid Canary) on Killua's birthday to find him fast asleep. He gave the little rising and falling lump under the covers a gentle smile before heading into the small room attached to Killua's bedroom. There he dumped two buckets of warm water he had been carrying into the tub.
He needed a bath; he reeked of sweat and dirt. The water reflected back to him, however, a much cleaner figure than he had ever seen of himself. His ribs weren't exposed anymore, and his skin was somewhat lighter from the lack of manual labor hours in the sun. He smiled at the boy that smiled back and began humming a bit.
His tunic was off, but he never got the chance to actually soak in the water. A little voice called out from behind him just as he got ready to remove his pants, and when he turned, Gon was met with a stumbling prince mumbling his name.
“Killua?!” He suddenly reached out, worried beyond belief, and caught his friend in his arms. The boy felt like a fragile dove held in his far-too-rough hands. “Killua!” Panic wracked his mind when the boy just sunk into him, mumbling something about breathing and weakly gripping Gon's tan arms. The little angelic songbird was losing life, had possibly already lost the will to leave, so he needed help, and he needed it now.
He lifted his best friend into his arms quickly and began to rush towards the infirmary; all this time, he assumed the “sickness” was from Killua's guilt, but maybe there was just something else to it. Maybe he really was physically ill. Maybe... in a worse case scenario, maybe he was already too late to help Killua. That thought scared him, deeply and truly unlike anything ever before.

Tragically, it was on his 14th birthday that Killua got an aggressive case of pneumonia, and the whole Zoldyck family was thrown in disarray.

Chapter Text

The illness hit Killua quickly and mercilessly. He was coughing nearly every second of the day; he kept sweating fever after fever off. He sometimes couldn't breathe, and he spent the whole day just trying to sleep. It was truly an awful experience, and his parents made it even worse.
The king and queen were in his room constantly, nagging him and trying to convince him (and even more so, themselves) that he was in perfect health. He gave them little to no response; he mainly focused on talking to the doctor. It was some tall guy with dark skin like Gon's. That's all he could really tell. His brain was spinning around, so it was hard to focus on anything.
He was unconscious most of the time, head reeling around to try and figure out who was who and what was what. He saw glimpses of faces, stole glances at objects, and caught shreds of conversation. Nothing made sense anymore. Everything was bleeding together like his haunting memories, like the liquid pouring from his arm as he was bled by the tall doctor. He turned his eyes up and stared. Was sunlight coming in? He couldn't feel it; all he could see was a myriad of stars above him. He was floating, and nothing was bringing him down. Not pain, not the doctor asking him question after question; he was merely lost to the universe splayed across the curtains of his canopy bed.
In this whole universe... He... He wanted...
“Where's Gon?” It was the first time he had spoken all day. The sun was just setting outside, and the dark doctor was still there, just about to leave, in fact. In the small expanse of time, the medic had established that this kid was a goner. Had six days to live at most. Pneumonia was a tragedy, and honestly, he didn't want to give the royal family any false hopes, but this sudden eruption from the boy caught his attention.
“Prince... Killua?”
“Where is Gon?”
“Hey, you're awake?” Even as he rushed up to the bedside and began asking question after question, Killua only answered him in questions, nothing else seeming to come to him. The little moment of lucid consciousness soon faded away, however, and the doctor was left to wonder just how much of a chance this kid really had.
One thing that he didn't have to question, however, was that this kid needed whoever this “Gon” person was, and he needed them quickly.

Sylva and Kikyo didn't take the news well. They didn't take it well at all. Considering Killua was the only heir they saw fit to be king one day, they were willing to pay any price to save him; this “definite death” prognosis was frustrating, to say the least. The “only hope” seemed like an awful stab to their pride as well. Killua wanted to see Gon?
“Unacceptable. He is not permitted near my son. That dirty waste of space is what caused young Killua to fall ill in the first place; I just know it!” The queen growled, throwing her priceless fan to the ground. The doctor, a poor man all his life, cringed as he saw a lifetime's worth of money shatter on the lavish marble floor. His eyes burrowed down into the intricate fabric and luxurious wood. Actually, that was probably a few lifetimes' worth of money.
“I must agree with my wife on this one. Obviously he only caught this vile illness because of the peasant child. He is receiving due punishment as we speak.” The king gently placed a hand on his wife's shoulder in an attempt to quell her rage. The doctor was a bit surprised, but more importantly, disgusted at this display. Were these truly the most intelligent people the kingdom had to offer? Only an idiot would throw a fortune onto the floor like it was nothing then accuse healthy people of causing a disease out of nowhere. Surely if they knew this “Gon” was ill, they would have separated the two... right? Honestly, he was beginning to question the monarchs. They were known for being master tacticians and incredibly persuasive; the whole Zoldyck dynasty was supposedly blessed with rhetoric, but right now, it felt as if he was talking to two village fools.
“Oh please, and all those filthy criminals played no part in it?” Suddenly, a figure emerged beside the doctor. It was dramatically shorter than Dr. Paladiknight, but they were obviously a human. Possibly a girl... but judging by the tribal wear, definitely a man. Intricate loops and lines covered the silk fabric they bore, and their arms were looped around with two, large, shimmering sets of chains. Shoulders exposed and neck enclosed, the feminine figure was decorated with a stunning set of blue eyes with several splotches of red inside. White-blond hair and pale-pink skin exposed him as an albino, and the scarlet jewel dangling from his ear revealed his rather exotic lineage.
“King Kurapika, please,” but the blond snapped his fingers, and at once, the doctor was silent.
“Hush, Leorio, I'm merely telling these fools the truth. I was intending to see the legendary prodigy's moves for myself,” he ran his long, delicate fingers through his hair and chuckled, the queen quickly going crimson in anger, “but I can't quite do that if these imbeciles let him die, now can I?”
“Your majesty, please-”
“Listen, my doctor is one of the best in the world; you're just lucky we were in town. He gave you specific instructions on how to treat your son, so comply with them.” The queen immediately opened her mouth, spewing reprimands and insults. In response, Kurapika sighed, flicking his hair over his shoulder and drawing out his own fan before speaking.
“Touch me, wench, and every Kurta ally will be knocking on your door in minutes.” And that was enough to silence her. She was still fuming, but ever since the Kurta massacre, the state had been nothing but a crime lord's paradise. They had connections with any and all illegal dealings in the continent, maybe in the world, and before her stood the king of that all. “Now, where is this Gon child? I shall fetch them and bring them here.” Sylva had a much better temperament than his wife, but he still felt a bit like blowing up on the other man. Instead, he smirked, tapping his wife's shoulder gently.
“Why, he should be in the executioner's yard right now. He should certainly be headless by now, don't you think so, dear?”
“Oh! Oh, yes, that's true! He's to-”
“That executioner's yard?” Cutting off the queen, the blond snickered as he tilted his head in the direction of a nearby window. Outside, there were merely several guards running around and yelling. Even though the Kurta couldn't see out of it from where he stood, he heard the commotion perfectly. In fact, when he passed by it on the way to Killua's room, he had originally thought it was some kind of comedy act with an executioner as the main character. At this point, though, the only audible phrases were along the lines of “Where is he? Find him! He must be nearby!” Silence fell among the group as they all truly began to listen for the words, then suddenly, Kikyo ran off.
“We must find him! That dirty child is on the loose somewhere, and he must be stopped!” Following his wife, Sylva saved Kurapika a glare before running off as well, mentioning something about splitting up. The Zoldycks didn't mind getting their hands dirty with work; that was certain.
The two figures left standing there remained for a few moments, but they both decided to shuffle off to their room after a few moments. Of course, they were too occupied with their current conversation (Leorio scolding Kurapika for being so rude to such a dangerous family) to notice the two figures creep into the room behind them.

Thanks a bunch for the help back there, sir!” Gon, whispering animatedly as he slipped into his best friend's room, grinned ear-to-ear, practically bouncing out of his skin. “The queen and king just wanted me to die when I told them I wanted to see him! They're so mean sometimes...” And without a second thought tossed to the possibility of contagiousness, the tan boy rushed to the prince's side, laying a hand against his pale forehead with great concern. A second figure emerged from the darkness of the door. Dressed in a palace servant's clothing, Hisoka stepped forward, eyes curiously scanning the room. He brushed his hair from his eyes, trying to push it back into place with his bare hands alone; how annoying. He hummed and sat on the intricate rocking chair, shrugging his shoulders.
“Ah, it was nothing~. These servants are far too stupid. More importantly,” The redhead crossed his arms over his chest, beginning to waver the seat back and forth, eyes locked onto the back of Gon's head, “what exactly did you do to make Kikyo and Sylva so upset, hmm~?”
“Who?” the boy's voice betrayed him, simply putting forth an air of disinterest. He was too concerned with holding Killua's hand to really pay attention to the concubine behind him, but it's not as if the man took offense to the action or anything. In fact, it just made Hisoka smile a bit more. These two certainly were a curious pair.
“The king and queen, you know? You couldn't have simply just asked to see your friend and been sent to death.”
“But I was!” Suddenly, his attention shifted completely to Hisoka before quickly returning to playing with the fingers on his friend's hand. “I think they thought I gave it to him, but I'm not sick at all.” The pout on his face was audible in his voice, and Hisoka wanted terribly to just laugh, but he managed to reduce the urge to a mere chuckle.
“Ah, I see, I see, so they're blaming it all on you then?” He continued to rock for just a bit before stalling to a stop. “That's pretty typical of royalty, don't you agree?” Suddenly the boy turned around (there was the pout) and shook his head.
“Not Killua! He's different! He takes the blame for me all the time! His family is just mean!” Yet just as soon as his perturbed expression appeared, it faded, leaving a grin on the child's face as he whispered. “That's why we're gonna run away before Killua becomes king! We're gonna continue our plan as soon as Killua gets better! Right, Killua?” Hisoka's eyes widened ever-so-slightly as Gon merely turned back to his friend. An escape? How... charming. How curious. Possibly even more intriging was the fact that Gon seemed to know that the prince would get better; he just stated it as an obvious fact. This boy... well, he was certainly something, now wasn't he? The man chuckled and shook his head a bit, finally standing. He strolled over to the little peasant, placing a well-manicured hand over his shoulder.
“You really trust me with that information~? I am Illumi's concubine, after all. What if I just... let that slip to him, hmm?” Even with the egregious threat, Gon was unfazed. In fact, he smiled, stare remaining on his friend. It was incredibly... odd. Usually, his presence was enough to send people scurrying, and yet this mere child merely giggled, shaking his head.
“I'm not sure what that means, but it would just be silly for you to save me and then tell on me!” This boy... this little kid in from of him was so... so innocent and young; he naively trusted this stranger just because he had helped him once. He wanted to laugh again; this was pure gold.
“Oh, dear, well,” a little breath left Hisoka's lips, and now he was the one shaking his head. “You have my logic beat, I suppose. Maybe you should play a game of cards with me sometime?” Seemingly out of nowhere, a deck appeared in his pale hands, and he held them out in a friendly offer to the boy. He glanced over for only a moment, yet both his and Hisoka's attentions were pulled back to the silent third party when he, well, broke his silence.
“Who's... nnn, what...” A few coughs later, and two glassy, blue eyes were barely open, scanning the top of the bed languidly. “Where...”
“Killua!” Gon's sudden, excited boom made the patient visibly jump. He blinked a few times then turned his head slowly to his friend. Everything was fuzzy, and he couldn't quite... make out... who...
“...G-Gon?” With a sudden burst of strength, he shot up from the bed, but merely sitting up sent him into a terrible dizzy fit. A hand quickly rose to keep him steady; it was... his own hand? Yes, it was his hand. He was floating, and if he didn't grip his forehead, his whole head would certainly fly off. Now, however, his stomach lurched forward, and an awful choking noise erupted from the back of his throat. A bucket practically materialized in front of him; at first it was just a cold, silver blur, but as he processed it, he realized he could just empty his stomach into it. He smiled at the cylinder in his lap and turned his head, giggling a bit. Unconsciously, he head drooped down to rest on the rim of the bucket. He wanted to sleep again, but in front of him was Gon. He wanted to talk to Gon more than he wanted to sleep. Timidly, a smile formed on the lips before him, and the young prince began to process more and more of the scene before him.
“Killua? Are you feeling okay?”
“Mm, feel like death. How're you?” His speech was a bit slurred, and it felt like the entire work was squeezing his lungs. His eyelids fell and rose slowly, like blinks turned into mini naps. Gon seemed satisfied though, as he was laughing.
“That's great! We overheard the doctor say you were doing poorly, but I'm glad he was wrong!”
“Ah, didn't take my medicine. Didn't want to...” But suddenly the boy in front of him had huge eyes (he supposed they were just widened).
“Killua! You have to take your treatments! Didn't you get anything done?” He wouldn't get better just by luck, obviously. A quick turn of his head revealed a bunch of little bowls decorating his night stand. The colorful dishes stood out against the consuming black of this room, and he took one, sniffing it as his friend fumbled for an explanation.
“Didn't... wanna... yucky medicine...” He hummed, closing his eyes and sighing. “The doctor bled me, though.” And he held out his arm for his squire to see. Bleeding was common for cleansing the bodily fluids of sick patients.
“It's only some garlic and honey, won't you take some for me?” Meanwhile, Hisoka was just watching this display silently and curiously. The prince hadn't noticed him yet, but Gon was just plain acting like he didn't exist any more. The most surprising part of it all, however, was when Killua opened his mouth and let his friend feed him some of the medicine he wouldn't touch either. The visiting doctor apparently specialized in making little concoctions, but he doubted they would do much good. Pneumonia was something people couldn't just recover from; they just died. Either way, the stubborn, spoiled, vain prince's sudden obedience to his friend was shocking. Then again. Perhaps obedience wasn't the right word? Maybe... Deference was better. The two seemed to value each other quite a lot, actually.
When he truly tuned back into the sight in front of him, Killua had already downed a few spoonfuls of some garlic mixture, a cup of some kind of spicy lemon water, a little cup of tea, and some off-color water. There were still many little bowls left, and the prince seemed disgusted at the sight of them, but he was really trying for his friend's sake. Vegetable juice came next, some milk with spices thrown in followed that. Gon also picked up something else, but decided it was a rubbing oil and didn't bother with it yet. A little basil juice and another glass of water later, and Killua was spitting up into the pail.
It certainly wasn't a pretty sight by any means, but he was getting all of that build-up out of his lungs. The next few moments were filled with coughing and choking and spitting, but Gon didn't seem disgusted at all, merely concerned.
“Are you experienced in caring for others?” The new voice made Killua jump, and his eyes widened upon finding Hisoka standing in his room. His brain struggled to assign the face to a name as Gon responded.
“Of course! Mito-san takes care of all the sick children in the village, and I help her! Our family never catches anything; she says it's cause we have good blood.” Gon giggled, turning fully to face-
“Hisoka! You're... You're my brother's...” But another coughing fit took the prince over, and his squire was immediately rubbing his back in sympathy.
“Ooo, so you recognize me then?” He couldn't help but to laugh as the boy simply coughed more. Originally, he had been intending to tell Gon himself that Killua had no chance. Breaking something so strong and young... It would have been delicious, but now, well, he had some doubts. If he told this boy Killua was indefinitely going to die, and then the prince lived? Well, then, the peasant would just build up confidence. No, he'd have to delay that plan... or possibly do something entirely different. The end result didn't actually matter, just so that he had some fun doing it.
“L-Leave... you're not allowed to....” But another coughing fit interrupted his banishment, not that Hisoka had much else in mind other than leaving.
“Don't fret, little dove. I'm off; I'm off. Ah, but Killua,” He began to walk to the door. An order from the prince was an order from the prince, but he wanted to get a few last words in. “Don't lose your wings, mm? A certain someone has big plans for them~.” That said, the redhead slipped out. He was an ephemeral figure in Killua's life: a ghost of silks and makeup and incense that was as scarce as he was ubiquitous. He was always causing Illumi grief via his mischief, so the young prince had a bias against him, though he had never truly done anything to garner it. He spoke in riddles as often as an artist spoke in creations. Just what did he mean by all that? What information did he swindle out of his squire?
“Dove?” Gon suddenly snapped Killua out of his mental musing. He seemed rather chipper over the nickname Killua now had. “I like that! You're so white and delicate like a dove!” The prince's mind fizzled for a second. The expression on his friend's face was unlike any he had ever seen, and it was so beautiful that he forgot that Gon was human for a second. He looked like an angel or a god or-
Another coughing fit had him clutching his chest, his lungs ready to burst. A few minutes of consoling later, and Killua was being lead to a warm bath, or maybe he was carried? It was hard to process. Either way, the steam and the presence of his best friend helped him substantially.
Before going to sleep, he had a scented oil rubbed on his chest followed by a little kiss to his temple. Honestly, Gon was way too affectionate. That was okay, though; he needed that right now. He also needed to cuddle up to his nice, warm squire, but if his parents found out, the little peasant boy was dead meat. Instead, Killua gave him muddied instructions to a hidden room beside the bathroom where he could hide away. After years of exploration, Killua had a much better grasp on his environment than his mother or father. Thankfully, his friend was able to navigate the short distance with no problem, and the prince himself was able to fall asleep quickly. With any luck, he would be better soon so he and Gon could play again.

The next day was completely different from the first; Killua's mother and father were nowhere near his room, but the doctor now had a guest along with him. The tall blond was quite pretty, but Killua found that his loopy self was unable to truly pin down his identity. He had seen those eyes before... heard about them? He was unsure, but... ah, it wasn't worth thinking about. The prince took whatever concoctions the doctor had to offer this time; this surprised Leorio greatly, as he wouldn't take anything the day before. Kurapika was firing several questions at the doctor, but Killua wasn't really understanding anything. Instead, he kept his gaze and ears to the door, waiting for Gon to arrive. He was able to sit up this morning, but he still felt an awful nauseated feeling in his stomach and a tumultuous sea in his head. As soon as these doctors left, however, he could call in his friend...
“So, did you get to see Gon?” The sudden question attacked Killua, and he turned quickly towards Leorio, eyes wide, mind spinning, and heart pumping heavily. That combination, of course, made him cough out a lung, but the doctor simply gave him an understanding smile. “Don't worry; I won't tell. Your parents are a real piece of work. Gon's probably helping you get better too, right?” Dizzily, Killua nodded. Kurapika giggled in the background, and when Killua went to see what was wrong, he spotted a shy little Gon at his door, laughing nervously. Evidentally, he heard the conversation from the other room and decided to show himself. Leorio seemed happy, though, and soon, all three were striking up a wonderful little conversation. Killua watched with a subtle feeling of happiness, but this sitting position was really easy to breathe in, and he was still awfully tired, so before long, he had fallen asleep to festive giggling and chatter, a smile on his face.

The next few days passed calmly, and each day, Killua was getting stronger and stronger. Now, he could remain upright and even walk around for long periods of time. Gon was reading to him every day, helping him study (really, it was more practice for Gon than it was for him) old literature and poetry. The squire seemed to be rather enamored with old Roman poetry, not that Killua could blame him; it was quite beautiful. However, it was rather war-orientated. The Romans themselves were rather war-orientated, but it was still annoying to have a poem about men dying being honorable. Killua knew that his friend had never seen the aftermath of those who left to fight. He himself had only been to a handful of battlefields. Though, perhaps his own execution stadium counted as a battlefield. Enough lives were lost there, after all, and the scene... it was all the same in terms of horror. The stench, the carnage, the blood: it was all too much for Killua, yet here he was, listening to Horace's poetry about divine fighting and bullshit like that.
“'Ah, my dear lord, untrain'd in war!'” Gon was carrying on again, but Killua was really sick of this. To his friend, surely resistance and fighting was glorified. Anytime his brother would come back from the village, he would tell Killua about how many young boys were trying to plot together to overthrow the kingdom. To a provincial village like this one, war was wonderful; it was glorious. To Killua, someone who's family was particularly fond of torture and gore, it was second nature.
“'O tempt not the infuriate mood'” Come to think of it, Killua was rather indifferent about death until he saw someone be killed before his very eyes at a young age; it was part of his conditioning. The goal was to make him insensitive to death, but it had quite the opposite effect. He had never been so scared of his eldest brother, of blood, of death. Who would have thought that in a few years the young prince himself would be the one killing people right before the eyes of young children, or worse yet passing it off as a sport: something fun to do and something entertaining to watch.
“'Of that fell lion I see! from far'” Killua blinked a few times, grimacing as he remembered the shrieks, the sight, the smell, the lurching in his heart as he was an incredibly empathetic soul stemmed from an insensitive family of “thinking” over “feeling.”
“'He plunges through a tide of blood!'” Gon giggled, kicking his legs cutely on the chair he was on.
“Dulce est decorum es-” Killua's lips were in a full-out frown, so he turned to his friend and suddenly placed his hand on the book. Gon, confused, finished the line he was on—
“Pro patria mori...” before stopping completely, his speech trailing out. A few moments of silence passed between the two before the boy finally spoke up. “Killu-”
“Gon, listen,” He pushed the leather-bound pages down a bit, trying to keep his anger under check as best as possible. His friend seemed bewildered, but he ultimately complied to the silent request. Setting the book aside, he gave his full attention to the boy in front of him. The prince seemed pleased, and his sick, glassy eyes met his own seconds before Killua's voice met his ears. “Do you... really believe that? It's noble to die for a country? War's noble?”
“Of course! You have to stand up for your home when the time comes!” The response was automatic, almost as if it was an imprinted program in Gon's mind. “Plus, war is one of the only ways to boost your rank! If you do well, you can become a wealthy general!” Well, as obvious as that reasoning was, it hadn't occurred to Killua before. He was a bit surprised, so much so that he was silent for a bit. Gon was always in such a tight spot, but still.. war wasn't... death wasn't...
“Gon, if I died in a war, would you still read that poem and say it was grand?” Things had stopped being fuzzy a day ago, but his speech was still tired, and he was still acting predominantly without a logical filter. The look of shock on his friend's face clearly displayed that this behavior was definitely not ordinary, but he decided to keep going. “Is it really “sweet and noble to die for your country”? Is it beautiful to be in a war? To fight for a nation that's never truly loved you anyway?”
“Killua...” Oops, he crossed a line. His squire was now utterly concerned, and he gave a shaky smile in response.
“S-Sorry, I-I-”
“I'm sorry, Killua.” Well, that was unexpected. “I've never seen a real war, but from where I stand, it seems to be the only thing aside from making friends with the prince that will save you from starving on the streets.” And now it was Gon's turn to wear a bashful smile, even though Killua was just as much in the wrong as he was. “I guess I always just... found it romantic, y'know? Dying for something you love...” A small laugh erupted from the dove, and he shook his head, weakly lifting his head a little more, running a weak hand through his feathery hair.
“And you really love this country? The one we're planning on running from? How about you choose something you're actually fond of to die for like some tragic hero...” A yawn followed his speech, and while all this emotional thinking had him tired out, Gon seemed more mentally active than he'd ever been before in his life. He was evidently pondering over Killua's words, and honestly, it was kinda cute. “Now, don't work yourself up over it, alright? Just go get some sleep. I need some too.” And those words only made his friend look exasperated. That look was backed up with action as the boy dramatically threw himself onto Killua's mattress and groaned.
“I wanna sleep heeeeeere~!” The insistence was so out-of-the-blue that Killua was actually surprised by it at first, but that didn't last long at all.
“Oh, c'mon, you bum. You can't seriously be spoiled already.”
“I'm spoiled; I'm spoiled!” He lifted his head from the night sky of sheets and gave his friend a pathetic puppy-dog look. Killua chuckled, shaking his head and straightening out his sheets beside him.
“I... can't; you know that. If they find you...” Apparently, he had a sad frown on because Gon was right at his side, burying his forehead in Killua's shoulder.
“Pleeeeeeeeeeeaaase~?”
“G-Gon... Gon, no... I can't.” He sighed, patting his friend's back as Gon sunk against him, humming pertly.
“But... Killua...”
“You can't, G-”
“I got Illumi's permission!” Killua's eyes blew wide, and he suddenly pulled away from his companion, causing the boy to fall into the silky folds of blankets in Killua's lap.
“Y-You what?” Sadly, the tension was too high on the weak prince, and he began hacking again, pounding at his aching chest. It felt like he was going to explode, and the pounding headache he now had did not help one bit.
“Ah! Killua, calm down! I-I didn't want to tell you cause I knew you would panic! I didn't really speak to him, though; I had Hisoka ask for me!” Poor Gon was only making everything worse, but he didn't know that. All he knew was that the boy was choking, and he needed to assuage the problem. “I know you don't like him, but he can be nice! He even told Kikyo and Sylva that I was here, so now they won't bother us anymore!”
“He what?!” And now Killua was practically tearing off the sheets, ready to go convince his parents with his dying breath that Gon had just gone missing. Gon had other plans, however, as quickly clung to his friend before he could even rise from the bed.
“Please, Killua! I just worked everything out. Illumi's not feeling good either, and your mom and dad want you two to be happy so you get well soon! They don't have any other options...” His coughing was dying down, sure, but his mind was still reeling.
“... So it's either appease us or lose the kingdom?” That was a feasible motive. With every bit inside of him, Killua knew his parents didn't really love him; they loved his potential. That was fine, though, he didn't need them. He had Alluka and Kalluto and... and... and now he had Gon too. He wasn't willing to think about his older brothers yet. Maybe he never would be.
“Yes~! They want you to be happy, and I know for a fact letting me sleep in your bed would make you super happy! The happiest you could possibly be.” For a brief moment, Killua was silent (as his coughing had died down), yet deep laughter rang out within him before long, and soon after that, he was giggling with his best friend as they tugged the blankets back and forth, having a war over such a trivial thing of who was hogging more of the infinite bedspread.
In this moment, the true wars set aside, their little battle rendered them utterly human. They were nothing more than two boys smiling and carrying on as their friendship bloomed once more. They had their whole lives to worry about death, to worry about war, to worry about murder. Here and now, they only had to worry about when it was finally time to give up and just cuddle, and that was a beautiful thing to debate.

In the coming year, the prince had undergone a miracle. He had survived the world's number one killer, pneumonia, and was making a fast recovery. His battle training picked back up soon enough, and his learning had never faltered thanks to Gon. Something that did change, however, was the executions.
Killua was adamant about banning them from the beginning, and now that he held the role of executioner, was even more so against them. After his illness faded away, The Kingdom of Garth's dreadful battles to the death existed no more. This was upon, not only his insistence, but the adamant resistance of Illumi and his two younger siblings as well. Milluki didn't seem to care either way, but he usually holed himself in his room and didn't come out for weeks at a time.
Illumi, however, soon became this way as well. In fact, he only left his room for business matters and to train his two pupils. It was concerning to say the least, but Killua was too stubborn—or perhaps too afraid—to try to talk to his eldest brother one-on-one. He owed quite a lot to Illumi at this point. He feared his brother would try to prompt him in returning the favor, even though he knew it wasn't his style.
Besides, Killua, against Gon's insistence, could avoid any kind of interaction altogether by simply saying that he wasn't back to full health. In a way, this was true. According to doctor Paladiknight, the prince was never going to feel completely better. His ability to breathe well was permanently impaired, and some days, it was going to be hard to get up and move around. The disease would most likely make him very susceptible to other diseases as well. He was to be kept in the palace at all times. He couldn't leave for business trips, and sometimes he couldn't even meet guests that came to the palace.
Something else Leorio said, albeit only to the two boys (for he feared the king and queen's response to this news) was that Killua's life was indefinitely shortened by this. People who overcame illnesses like this either became stronger or weaker, and Killua had gotten exceptionally weaker.
It was certainly a shock and an initial scare, but the prince and his squire, being the young boys that they were, thought themselves rather invincible. A little less life expectancy? Pah, no big deal. They would still lead full lives; they were sure of it.
It was this wonderful, youthful optimism that pulled Killua and Gon through thick and thin that year, and soon, they had fallen into a schedule of a gradually stronger squire helping his delicately strong prince around the castle and the castle yards. Their favorite activity, however, soon became staying outside for long periods of time under the sun, crafting little garlands with Alluka and Kalluto. Killua slowly felt like he was getting his childhood back and giving his younger siblings a childhood in return.
Gon seemed pleased too, although his adventurous nature soon had him and Killua sneaking around the palace grounds at night just to see what they could explore. They would even occasionally slip off into the forest around the castle, but they couldn't stay long. Guards upon guards patrolled those woods, but it was a great adrenaline rush while they were there.
Excitement aside, Gon now refused to sleep anywhere but by Killua's side, but it's not as if the prince minded. The companionship was warm and comforting. It would be perfect if it wasn't for Gon's constant weird comments and questions. The boy completely lacked any kind of filter; he just said what was on his mind no matter what it was.
“Killua, your eyelashes have grown a lot.”
“Killua, why does Hisoka dress the way he does?”
“Killua, your nose is really cute! Did you know it scrunches when you get mad?”
“Killua, have you ever though about getting married?”
“Killua, you're getting taller, but you're still really skinny!”
“Killua, why don't you wear more stuff like Alluka and Kaluto? I bet you would look really beautiful in their clothes!”
“Killua, your eyes look pretty at night! They shine like a cat's!”
“Hey, Killua, why are you so pretty?”
Honestly, it was a total headache. Said headaches often came with two very red cheeks. It was almost every night now that Gon would throw a compliment at him and he would turn bright red. His cheeks, the back of his neck, the tips of his ears; it was awful, but the squire wasn't about to stop anytime soon. In fact, Killua was pretty certain that his friend just loved to pick on him like this; there's no way he was just doing it randomly. Gon liked to see Killua flustered, no doubt about it.
It was awful, but nothing was worse than a talkative, excited Gon the night before Killua's fifteenth birthday. He kept rambling on and on about how there was going to be parties and feasts and celebrations. Most of all, he kept begging Killua to go pick flowers with him. Eventually, the prince was forced to agree; his friend's puppy dog eyes were more effective than any torture known to man. Gon was content, so he figured they would drift off to sleep.
However, it seemed that his squire had a different agenda.
“Hey, Killua... are you still awake?”
“Even if I wasn't, I am now.” The prince peeked an eye open, letting out a sigh as his friend giggled before turning to face him. “What's wrong?”
“Ah, well,” He grinned, obviously proud of himself. “I wanna tell you something! Remember a few months ago when I read you Horace's poetry? I think I have a better way to say that!” Oh, here it goes again. Killua had forgotten that his friend was as static as a mountain. Nothing could change Gon Freecss.
“Dulce et decorum est,” he paused only to grin again, “pro amore mori!” And proud was an understatement now. Gon was beaming, while Killua simply lay trying to translate his friend's words.
“Sweet is... It is sweet and noble... your love... It is sweet and noble to die for your love?” Killua scoffed, a sweet smile stuck on his lips. “You're such a romantic. You shouldn't die for anything.”
“You don't like it?!” A deep frown replaced the wide grin in no time, and Killua, once again, had to cave.
“N-No, just... just put yourself first, alright?”
“But... But, Killua! I have to defend what I love!”
“Then love yourself, dummy! And quiet down a bit; my parents will hear us.”
“But, Killuaaaa!!!” This time, the prince covered his friend's mouth with his hand. Honestly, Killua just wanted to sleep.
“Gon, shut up. Just... it's good; it's a lot better than the original; just quiet down, okay?” Drawing his hand back to himself, Killua let out a sigh. Gon nodded slowly, then thought for awhile before once again disrupting the poor prince's sleep.
“Hey, Killua?”
“Yes, Gon?”
“I... I do love myself! But I love Killua even more!” And to punctuate his point, Gon gave his friend a nice, warm hug. That lasted for quite awhile, as Killua couldn't even begin to process what had just been told to him. Was Gon... Did Gon just? He's....
“You... You idiot!” He smacked his friend over the head, and Gon pulled away sharply, rubbing his skull and whimpering. “That's something really important! You have to save that for people you really love more than anyone else! Like... Like a wife!” But this answer didn't please Gon in the slightest. In fact, the boy could only pout at his abashed friend, trying to lay yet another guilt trip on him.
Just like the other ones, of course, this guilt-trip worked.
“H-Hey, I-I'm sorry, alright? I just... that's a lot for you to say, y'know?” His apology earned him a hopeful smile.
“It's okay, Killua! I'll forgive you if you say it back!”
“If I... say what back?”
“Say you love me!” The boy was giggling in front of him, but to Killua, this was no laughing matter. This was the single most embarrassing thing to ever be asked of him, and he was mortified.
“Wh-What? A-Are you serious?!”
“Completely! Just once, for me? Please?” And there Killua lay, in the middle of the night, his cheeks glowing red as Gon gave him just one itsy-bitsy request. It must have been at least ten minutes before he could even choke out any kind of noise.
“I-I... I.... I llll... I lllllo....” Luckily for him, Gon was patient and kind. It may have taken him half an hour, but soon Gon was giggly once more as he choked out a simple “I love you” all in one breath. Smiling ecstatically, the squire threw his arms around his prince once more and pulled himself even closer.
“I love you more!”
“G-Gon! St-stop! I can't take that!” He was bright red, almost light-headed from all the blood in his head, but.... Killua would be lying if he said he wasn't joyful.
“Hehehe, sorry, Killua. I'm just happy! Now we can protect each other, right?”
“We could have done that before, idiot!”
“But now we have an even better reason, right?”
“I...” There was really no use arguing. “I guess so...” He returned the smile that was being flashed intensely at him, and nuzzled his friend's shoulder, quickly hiding his face. The two boys fell asleep soon after, feeling all warm and cuddly. It wasn't anything devotional to them; in fact, this love was simply the young, innocent, pure love that any two children could share.
The strongest love of all was between them: that of a naïve innocence and an irrefutable closeness that would keep the two boys together forever.

Chapter Text

It was the afternoon when they conspired. Water from a recently finished bath dripped down their necks from their hair, and wrinkled fingers slid over a map of the palace. They had been planning this for years, and each day, they grew closer and closer to a perfect plan. They could do this; Gon and Killua were both confident.

“If we head down this hallway, at around 10:00, we're bound to run into this guard. He seems to station beside the farthest pillar for a while at this time.” The prince tapped the paper, turning his sapphire eyes up to his squire once more.

“Mmm, yeah, but, if we wait a few moments, he'll leave to talk to his friends, and the path will be clear.”

“But we do have some risk because sometimes a different guard will make their way down the hall from the back, and we'll be way too visible.” Killua watched in amusement the way Gon's nose twitched a bit. It was a guaranteed way to determine he was frustrated. The boy had many idiosyncrasies such as this one, but it was definitely one of the cuter ones.

“We could choose to go down a hall to the right until we're certain the guards have cleared out...”

“Not bad, but there's no way to know if all the guards are gone or not from a closed room. We have to wager some risk as far as hiding goes, or else we won't progress fast enough to get out while staff is low.”

“Well why did you mention the risk if you knew it wouldn't matter anyway!” The boy suddenly groaned, laying himself down dramatically on the map in front of the royal. Killua began laughing, but he still tried to gently push his friend off of the paper nonetheless.

“Just a warning for you, Gon. I want you to know what you're getting into is all. We can't afford any surprises on this mission, okay?” Mumbles came from the little body in front of the prince, but just as he was about to turn his friend over for a better-heard conversation, a hand jutted up at him and pulled him down. He fell forward, of course, and landed on his cheek, his hands cushioning the fall as his (once neatly-folded) legs sprawled out behind him. Killua had barely muttered out an “ooph” before yelping at the sensation of something tickling his feet. Jolting up as quickly as possible, Killua soon saw the obvious; the “something” was none other than Gon Freecss.

“Heheh, you let your guard down!”

“Why you...” He tried to sound irritated, but in reality, he had a giant grin on. If Gon wanted a war, he would get one. The prince sprang into action, tackling his friend easily and beginning to spider his fingers down the boy's sides. Giggles erupted underneath him, and squirming followed immediately after. After so many seconds of torture, Killua let up, pinching at his companion's cheeks as Gon's arms were still being squished against his chest by the entirety of the prince. “Now, we're not going to do that again, are we~?”

“Kiwwwa!! Aih cahnt speeak wike tis!” Like a cat playing with its prey, the pale child continued to tug at his friend's cheeks, but eventually, Gon's pathetic puppy look won, so he simply began to rub the little red marks there away.

“Now, say you won't do it again.”

“But I will do it again!” A bit shocked, Killua gave the boy under him a solid pinch before relaxing his hands once more. “Ow! Ki-”

“I'll do it again if you don't promise me you'll stop.”

“But Killua~!” Gon began to squirm again. “Your laugh is too cute! It's not fair!” At this, the prince immediately went bright red, eyes widening at the little peasant underneath him.

“G-Gon!” And, ah, the cute little voice crack of embarrassment and puberty.

“It's true! You don't laugh that much, so I just thought...” He trailed off, not really knowing what to say now. There was no need for explanation anyway; Killua got the message loud and clear, and now the two were locked in a long, loaded stare. The princes fingers suddenly felt extremely light as he cupped Gon's cheeks, and a grin slowly began to take over his squire's features. It was handsome and sweet and marked with a mischievous innocence that was just so charming to Killua. He suddenly felt as if he could lay there forever, just staring at Gon's goofy grin and how it lit up his face completely and how it colored his freckled cheeks ever-so-slightly. He was certain he'd spend an eternity in the boy's eyes as well: they were honey-colored and shone with more life than Killua had in his entire body. They were... so open and soft. Soon, the prince found himself giggling along with his friend, and after a few moments, he rolled off to allow Gon to regain the feeling back in his fingertips.

Now laying side-by-side on the floor at the foot of Killua's bed, the two laughed together, turning to face each other. Twitching his fingers, the tan boy reached out and took his friend's hand, pulling it up to rest on his cheek again. Another stare was shared, and Killua pulled his hand back.

“I prefer it here...” And as he spoke, he took Gon's hand into his own, intertwining their fingers tenderly as a bashful smile overtook his face. His companion seemed rather surprised at first, but soon he was back to blushing and giggling too.
The two lay like that for what seemed to be an eternity. They giggled and stared and murmured and even squeezed each others' hands once or twice. Eventually, or maybe gradually? It was hard to tell—they leaned in closer, resting their foreheads together. The wood was awful on their shoulders, but this moment of intimate closeness was worth it. This small window of happiness was all worth it all. The only thing that separated them now was the few wispy hairs spread across Killua's forehead and the dainty gem handing there, suspended from the expensive silver chain that marked the boy as royalty.

Gon's smile softened, but Killua didn't seem to notice, as he had his eyes closed, obviously floating around in some dream realm. It was endearing all the same, but just as he reached around to pull the prince ever closer, a delicate knock at the door broke them both out of their spell.

Hands still desperately clutching each other, the two boys shot up, faces red and expressions nervous. Killua had to clear his throat a bit before speaking.

“Y-Yes? Come in!” A moment of hesitant silence befell the room, yet just as Killua was about to speak up again, the door began to creak open. Thin, pale fingers lightly gripped the edge, and slowly, almost menacingly, the visitor stepped into the room. All remained just as silent as before for quite awhile, but eventually, Gon spoke up.

“A-Ah, Illumi! It's nice to see you up!” Surprised that the peasant decided to try and break the ice, the eldest prince nodded. He spared the boy a look that wasn't quite a smile, yet at the same time, didn't look as frightening as usual.

“Yes. I'm feeling a bit better.” Another awkward silence stretched out; evidently, Illumi wasn't one for conversation.

“So... are you here to see Killua?”

“Ah, yes, actually... But you may stay if you wish.” Killua, meanwhile, looked terrified. Talks with his brother never went well. Surprisingly, however, after closing the door, the first thing Illumi did was go to his knees and bow before his younger, bewildered brother. Surprised, the crown prince could only stare at him in disbelief. “Killu,” and slowly, respectfully, he lifted his face once more. Illumi was a subject of beauty, and even in this awkward moment and after spending months cooped in his room, the majesty of this man was still visible in every aspect of him.

His long hair was like black water flowing over his shoulders and his back, and his dark eyes were onyx stones: piercing and void at the same time. Delicate features, a little traditional makeup, and a few layers of the finest silk clothing made him seem like a god—a god who had just bowed to Killua.

“I-”

“Listen to me, Killu,” and as Illumi raised a hand to politely cut his brother off, Killua realized that maybe all these years, he's seen his brother as this ultimate, god-like figure: someone powerful and merciless and so close yet so far all at the same time. This logic would certainly explain why this apology was so awfully upsetting.

“But, Illumi-”

“All these years, I listened to what mom and dad had to say about you. In some aspects,” He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, fingers trailing back even more to adjust his hair accessory, “I think they're right... but... in others, I just...” And now he turned his attention directly to an oddly silent Gon seated at the prince's side. “Well, I don't know how to feel. But I know they're not quite getting the whole story.” Suddenly, dramatically, tresses of hair fell down his shoulders, a twinkling item still in his delicate digits. “Killua...” he glanced down to the map naively left out in the open before looking back up to his brother. “You'd make a wonderful king. The best this kingdom has ever seen... ever will see, but,” he trailed off again, this time staring at the clip in his hand for a bit, “you don't want that, and I can't change what you want. I'm not here to say I'm happy you're planning on running away to find yourself with that- with your friend,” the word didn't quite sit well with him, “but you're you in the end. I'm not magic, so I can't change that.”

This entire time, Killua had been staring in disbelief. Honestly, he'd never heard his brother string together so many long, elegant sentences in such a short time. Now, however, he stared in absolute shock as Illumi held out the sparkling accessory in his hands, waiting for Killua to advance to receive it. He was patient; Illumi was always patient, after all.

It took awhile, and in the end Gon had to nudge his friend forward, but the crown prince was soon extending his arms out to receive the gift, and in his pale hands landed an elegant, exquisite pair of hair stick. Beads dangled from sparkling, golden rods, and there was one piece that was especially beautiful. On a two-pronged rod sat a couple intricate, gorgeous alstroemeria flowers, made from what appeared to be priceless golden and white jewels, or perhaps it was simply layers upon layers of white jewels with golden flecks tossed in? The hair sticks and Kanzashi were beautiful either way, and as Killua stared in awe at the dangling beads off of his named flower, Illumi spoke once more, a beautiful, strong raven passing on what it could to its beautiful little dove of a brother.

“This is yours now, Killu. Your hair isn't quite long enough, but” here, he smiled. Illumi smiled. It was small, and it was brief, and it was something Killua would have never believed if he hadn't seen it for himself, but it was mystical all the same. “I think you'll use it soon.” Then he stood. The mighty raven left before the timid little dove could even say a word, and he left behind a choice, but it wasn't a cowardly run or a sudden disappearance, more like... an elegant flight away. Quite simply, Illumi left Killua with himself; his destiny was his own now, no matter how much the eldest prince wanted that to change.

Killua remained, holding a piece of his very being in one hand, and the hand of an entwined soul in the other.

Garth had terribly dry summers. Killua, however, never minded them until his lungs were in direct opposition to every room except the bath. Here, he spent countless hours just sitting by the water, breathing in warm, moist air. It's relaxing and therapeutic, and of course this cathartic release is never without his best friend and squire, Gon Freecss. Even though they bathed together, most of the time over the last few days, they just lounged by the steaming tub, waiting for the first summer rain. Today, on the other hand, was quite different.

Today, Killua was stuck in the throne room, being berated by his mother for not even considering a wife yet.

The neighboring kingdoms had beautiful princesses all for his picking, yet he had refused every single proposal thus far to even meet. The prince was convinced he didn't need a princess, but his mother was a different story.

“It is not as if you're signing your life away! I see not why you care so much! You can have any wife, any wives, so why won't you accept it? Accept one!”

“I will not.” He was kneeling, eyes to the ground in bitter deference. As respectful as he had to be to his mother, he remained defiant. Most men didn't even get married until their elder years, as young wives were often given off to old, rich men, but his mother was bothering him about the topi cin his teen years?

“You need children, and to have children, you need a wife.”

“I will not.”

“You will!” The queen stood, silk draping around her ankles as she left the throne. Her cheeks were marred with a blood-red lipstick that rivaled only her face in angry, fierce appearance. “The bloodline will not stop with you just because you're sickly!” Her monstrous appearance dropped to a pleasant smile, and she folded her hands as she slowly descended the steps to a still-bowing Killua. “We just love you so much, but, dear, we're concerned about your health and our future grandchildren. It breaks my heart to think we'll never see your child, Killua.”

“I will not.” It was an adamant resolution that allowed him to raise his head to his mother's once more, staring into her eyes, glaring into her very soul. For a second, Kikyo hesitated. The hatred she found in the child before her made her proud, but this defiance...

“You little... insolent, petulant, brat!” She reached down suddenly, snatching a handful of feathery locks in her slim, pale fingers. “You must be wed!” And she yanked up, her son hissing out in pain. He didn't fear his mother, but pain was pain.

“I... will not!” His hands traveled up, grasping his mother's arm in a vain attempt to cajole her into letting go.

“You will! You will be wed, or so help me, I'll burn your little friend to death.” These words awakened something dark within Killua, and a heartless sea flooded into his eyes. Growling, he dug his nails into her flesh with a ferocity he hadn't used in years.

Kikyo screamed suddenly, trying to pull her hand away, yet the guards were conflicted over to who to help. After all, she was a woman, even if she was the eldest royal there. Her husband was out, so would it not make sense that her son was in charge of her now?

They didn't have to vacillate long, as in the course of her screaming, Kikyo's voice was overcome by a loud hacking. Cough after cough, her voice became harder and harder to hear, until it had finally stopped altogether. Instead, Killua's throat being ripped up from his awful fit was the only audible thing for a solid minuted before anyone really did anything. The queen had used the moment as an opportunity to break her son down, telling him that she'd help if he promised to get married, and when that didn't work, she just picked him apart, criticizing his clothes, as they were too “girly,” and his hair, as there was a “hideous clip” in it that “didn't suit” him at all. Meanwhile, he felt as if he was going to pass out.

The world continued to spin for quite some time, or maybe it really was only a minute, until finally two warm hands hooked under his armpits, lifting him up carefully and slowly. Between his chest being thrashed and his eyes watering from pure exhaustion, it took him awhile to understand just who it was.

“Is not the most vile human one who takes advantage of their own child's misfortune?” Glancing up, golden eyes were on fire before Killua, but Gon wasn't looking at him, but rather they were glaring holes into his mother. “You are sick in your heart and soul, dear queen. Your prince is far more noble than you.” With that said, and with medics suddenly swarming Kikyo, Gon began to lead his companion out, whispering reassurances to the prince who seemingly just couldn't catch his breath. Only a few moments had passed since the accident, and Killua was still coughing, albeit the hacking was becoming less and less severe. Luckily, they had reached the prince's room just on time; the stress, the heat, and his overall illness rendered him too weak to walk. After setting him on the bed, quickly yet carefully, Gon ran off to get a nurse, and the prince, in the meantime, discreetly wiped the blood he had been hiding in his palm on a nearby towel. If Gon asked, he could just say it was his mother's blood that had spilled onto him.

His lungs had sustained him for fifteen years, and he knew they could hold out for a few more.

“For the last time, we are not interested!” For once, Killua was grateful for his mom yelling. Kikyo was practically shoving some European man out the door. Evidently, the church thought if they kept sending missionaries to Garth, the royal family would eventually change its mind about staying Buddhist. This odd worshiping of one god, his son (who is also the same god, just in human form?) for the promise of an eternal kingdom went against much of what they already knew. Confucian ideas, the concepts of yin and yang, a touch of preference for a Legalist society, and the faith of Buddhism coalesced nicely to form their “religion” as these people called it (in China, it was more like a way of life).

“I'm tired of telling them time after time that my husband and I are not converting anytime soon.” The queen sighed, waving her hand delicately, and instantly a servant was at her side, handing her a lit pipe from which she took a long, much-needed drag. The smoke she blew out elegantly hung around her, but the awful stench betrayed the alluring appearance. Pale shoulders were exposed, sprouting forth from layers of blood-red silk, and an eye patch had long since been replacing the wrappings around her face. One eye just wasn't good enough to last her, yet still, the other one could barely see anything at all. Honestly, the only reason for her fashion choice was so that her glares would be more intimidating.

Gon and Killua were sitting to the side, having been called there by the loud yelling they heard in the throne room. The red carpet was warm and plush, and they had no trouble passing time by laughing at the misfortune of the missionary. Now, however, it was just them and Kikyo. Knowing this, of course they immediately began to walk away, but an odd voice caught their attention.

“Ah, the young prince; you'd rather run than have a word with me?” Expecting yet another random man or government official, Killua was shocked when he turned to see an old man in traditional Indian garb standing beside his mother. He spared the two boys a smile before breaking out into a rather comedic chuckle. He was only a bit taller than Gon and Killua, but he was years upon years older. He wore an overly simple Sherwani with an equally basic sash draped over his shoulders. Although he was a new face, he seemed absolutely ecstatic to be talking to the two boys, almost as if he truly wanted to be friends with them, or, at the very least, get to know them. Killua was doubtful at best, but as a diplomatic figure for the Kingdom of Garth, he couldn't just turn away a visitor.

“Ah, do excuse me. I don't believe we are yet acquainted?” An extended hand later and he was introducing himself to the royal, then, by a kindness and eagerness unexpected from an official, as this man seemed to be, Gon was also given the same friendly greeting.

“I'm Netero; it's nice to meet you. I hail from lands to the east, though, not as far east as your ancestors.” Oh dear, another lecture about life and history. It was probably another sad attempt from his mother to get him to “understand the importance of marriage and children.” Killua just nodded, smiling and shifting to stand closer to his friend than this new acquaintance, but the man was not satisfied with just standing and staring at each other. “No, no, I'm here to speak to Killua and Gon, not the prince and his... servant?”

“We only hire professional servants; this is just some scum my boy showed charity to. Since Killua's not even married, he's not even a useful little concubine.” Instantly, the prince took a step towards his mother, gently pushing Gon behind him as if he were protecting the other against such a slanderous suggestion. Kikyo merely smirked. “He's just my son's “squire” or something like that. The page we had already picked out for him just wasn't good enough, evidently.”

“Mother, I don't appreciate that comment.” Through gritted teeth, Killua hissed out a counter, giving the most polite smile he could muster up in his time of rage. His mother merely laughed, waving her hand dismissively.

“I'm sorry, dear, but I've never been adept at softening what I say. The boy's useless.”

“Your terse words are no-”

“Squire? You mean the prince is already a knight?” Sensing tension, Netero interjected with pleasant comment.

Well, at least, he thought it would be pleasant.

“A... knight? What are you talking about?”

“Well, you know,” the man shrugged, a large grin on his face, “squires train under fully grown knights until it is time for them to go to war themselves.” This, even though it was said in good spirit, lead to a large smirk across Kikyo's face. Killua's expression, however, morphed awfully into one of terror.

“We need to leave.” He had nothing more clever to say, so he grabbed Gon's arm and quickly fled. Diplomacy be damned, he had no idea how to deal with what was happening at the moment. That look on Kikyo's face... He knew just what his mother was thinking.

It took only a few moments before the two had escaped to a side corridor. Killua was panting, and there was an obvious glassy look in his eyes. He was lost; he was devastated, and Gon was right there, rubbing his back and comforting him with soft words and gentle touches.

“Don't worry, Killua. It's going to be okay. Nothing will change; I promise.” As much as the prince wanted to believe it, he just couldn't, and he said as much.

“Yes it will, Gon. Don't you get it? She'll send you to war, and you'll be in the front lines, and then, and then,” but he couldn't finish, half because of his overwhelming anxiety, and half because Gon cut him off.

“Men aren't allowed in the army until 21 years of age, right? Killua, we'll both be long gone by then.”

“Well, Gon, I'm not supposed to be king until I'm 21 either, but you don't see that stopping my parents from trying to encourage me to step up with them as my regents.”

“They can't force you, Killua.”

“They seem to be able to do everything else...”

“Killua, listen,” Suddenly, the boy at his side took his hand and stood before him, running his fingers over his knuckles. That brought the prince's attention straight to two golden eyes. A few seconds of silence passed between the two, and eventually, the squire realized he hadn't followed his initial interjection with anything intelligible. Right before sputtering up something probably outlandish and off-topic beyond repairs, an ever-so-slightly-familiar voice rang out behind Gon.

“Excuse me, boys,” the older of the two immediately jumped, untangling his fingers from those of his prince. He spun to the other boy's side, only to come face-to-face with the same “diplomat” as earlier.

“O-old man?” And there was the same strange laughter.

“Ah, hello there. I hope I wasn't interrupting anything?”

“O-Oh, n-no, I, uh,” Killua quickly put on another proper smile, nodding his head slightly in respect. His strained eyes, however, were a clear indication that he was stressed out about something. “Can I help you?”

“Well, hopefully I can assist you?”

“Assist? Oh, no we were just-”

“Ah, ah, ah~” He put a hand up, stopping his words. “I know a soul in distress when I see one.” He leaned to the side, letting his weight on the nearby wall. “Tell me what's troubling you. I'm your family's new spiritual counsel after all, so don't worry.” For once, in the face of an important figure, Killua had no idea what to say. The silence was broken only by the man's chuckling, but eventually, Gon spoke up for his astonished friend.

“Distressed souls?” It was a mere repetition, but the whole thing was a shock to the squire as well.

“Well, yes, of course, I don't suppose you two have been taught much of your family's faith. Despite what all of those missionaries want, you're mother and father are both Buddhist.”

“Buddhist?” Suddenly, Killua scoffed, shaking his head. “Please, the day those war mongers become peaceful-

“Well, believe it or not, not everyone practices well what Buddha has taught.” Netero's interruption had brought Killua's attention back to the old man and away from his rather loathsome memories.

“I... suppose you have a point, but more importantly, why are you speaking to us?” Killua's chin raised, hands folding over his chest in a supercilious fashion. Gon was merely standing to his side, but he knew for a fact that looking at the prince's expression when he was like this was one of the most terrifyingly beautiful things on the planet. His eyes seemed to light up, and the angles of his face were paradoxically soft yet angular. He looked like some kind of ethereal being, especially with the way he had been growing out his hair recently. A few inches spilled out of a ponytail on the back of his head, but unlike his older brother's, Killua's wasn't sexy and sleek, it was beautiful because it was fluffy and curly, almost like cotton. Netero, however, didn't seem amazed or astounded, and instead, he laughed again. Killua's haughty expression didn't falter, though, and it continued to hold as the old man spoke.

“Ah, I could tell you were in some need of assistance, of course. I mean, royalty fights all the time, and squabbles are nothing new, but your soul stood out to me; it's in a lot of distress.”

“My soul? Oh, I see,” Killua's chin lowered along with his voice, now an altogether frightening force of nature. He looked up to this man, irises darkened by shadows and by thick lashes. He had made a complete turn around from moments ago, as this rampant fear of being translucent brought forth in him need to exude confidence. “So now you have magic or something, correct?”

“Magic?”

“Why yes, of course, how else would you be able to know what my “soul” has to say?” Because he was a learned reader, the concept of a soul was nothing new to to the boy, but the topic had never been brought up to him in person before.

“Magic has nothing to do with it, my child. Rather, I can tell by looking into your eyes.”

“My eyes, huh?” Killua was trying his best to seem disinterested. “And how do my eyes have anything do to with my 'soul?'”

“Don't you know?” The old man laughed delightedly, turning to Gon before resting his gaze on the prince once more. “Eyes are the window to the soul, of course. Your eyes are very expressionistic; you must have a lot to say.” Killua would be lying if he said he wasn't completely ready to shove his head in a few tomes for a day or so, learning everything there is to learn about this new faith, but if there was one thing he hated, it was being read by someone else.

“If it's true that you can tell what I'm feeling just by my eyes, then you must realize that I'm about to leave, because this is utter bullshit.” Despite the condescension behind his glare, Netero still laughed at his response. There was just no way to get it through this guy's head that he meant business. “Let's go, Gon.” The prince began to walk off nonchalantly, hands behind his neck in an overly-casual manner. Being the ever-loyal servant that he was, the squire followed behind, but he still made sure to spare the elder a gentle smile and wave as they strolled away.

For now, he was just happy his best friend wasn't completely focused on the stress of his family. No, Gon could just tell that he was in the mood for some serious research.

At least he knew what he was going to be doing the next few weeks.

“How long then?  How long must we wait?!”  It was night; the throne room was deserted, and everyone was asleep.  Everyone except, of course, the King and the Queen, who were currently awake in their bed chamber.  Kikyo was ready to toss something—anything: the first thing she wrapped her hands around.  Sylva, however, was much more calm over the topic, as he was in most topics (or at least, that’s how he appeared to be).

“We wait until the boy is ready, dear.  We cannot force a crown on his head quite yet.  He’ll have absolute power-”

“Not if we take upon ourselves to be his regents!” the woman’s hand clenched into a fist, which she slammed into the nearby wall.  “He must be king, and he must be king now!”  Sylva gave her a stoic expression as he shook his head.

“Hear me out.  If we nominate him as king now with us as his regents, the townsfolk and castle staff very well may try to eliminate us.  It is no secret that we are not well-liked,” he gestures, a bit frustratedly out to the garden that lay beyond the wall behind him, “hell, we must keep guards and dogs out at all time for our own protection.”  Kikyo growled, but her fingers relaxed.  Her husband had a good point, but so did she.

“Yes, but, dear, you don’t understand.  Killua’s condition will not allow him to live much longer.  If we allow him to just continue to age, he’ll be dead before he so much as sits on the throne.”  She folded her arms across her chest, leaning back on the wall.  “And you know very well none of the other boys is a suitable heir.”  Despite Illumi’s great diplomatic skills, Milluki’s exceptional financial mind, Kalluto’s eagerness to commission, and Alluka’s kindness and charm, they were all seen as invalid answers before the two monarchs.  

“Then we shall have more kids.”

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed recently, dear, but my child-bearing days have long-passed.  If I even so much as try again, I fear I may die in the process.”

“Yes, yes, I know this, but we have so many concubines; do you really think it will be much of a challenge?”  At this, Kikyo huffed out before turning her head away from her husband.  Sylva noticed this with a little alarm, as his wife never acted so pouty.  “Something wrong, my love?”

“It bothers me to think of a bastard son in charge of my kingdom.” The words dropped like lead weights from her sanguine lips, and were followed by an irate clicking of her tongue.  “Feels like it’s not even my child any longer; not my blood nor my spirit.”  There was a pause, so silent and awkward that a feather could be heard delicately tapping the ground if they were to try hard enough.

“‘Bastard son’?”  Another pause, followed by a few deep chuckles from Sylva.  “Truly, you’ve been listening to this missionaries far too much.  Does that truly matter to you?  Whether it’s your blood or not?  A child is a child, and a puppet is a puppet.  So long as we can pull the strings, that much should be insignificant.”

“And yet it is not!” Kikyo’s lax form sudden leaped forward, stiff from rage.  Her one visible eye, mostly blinded anyway, locked onto her husband.  In return, Sylva sat up straighter on the bed, a glare prominent in his usually neutral expression.

“And why not?  It is nothing back in my homeland or yours, so why does it matter now?  Please, enlighten me!”  

“Because!”  The shout was loud and sudden, and for a second Kikyo seemed frightened that she may have woken everyone up.  “Because,” She started quietly, a hand coming to rest over her heart.  “It feels, to me, that you do not value what we are, and that deeply saddens me.  We are husband and wife, but most of all, we are lovers and friends and conspirators, so why?” Another few steps forward, and she was directly in front of her husband, who immediately rose once he saw she was on the verge of tears,  “why have you chosen other than me?” Sylva brought her suddenly into a firm embrace as she wept, Holding her head against his chest and stroking her thinning hair.  It was true; age was showing through.  Kikyo could no longer have kids, and Sylva was stuck between appeasing the woman he loves and appeasing his own views for the future of his kingdom.

“Dear, dear Kikyo,” his voice was more emotional than he had ever heard it before, and he began to rub her back, thinking back to all the treasured memories they shared; their wedding, adventurous escapades, tricking diplomat after diplomat.  They were a perfect pair of politicians, and as so, he could not let this wonderful yin and yang relationship go to waste.  “I apologize.  I shall never again suggest something so horrid as choosing someone over you.  You are, in fact, my favorite wife.  I promise this much is true, so no matter how many others I have, you will always have my heart.  Understand?”

Oddly enough, the sobbing had stopped.  Kikyo had been resting in wait for these exact words, and as they escaped her husband’s lips, a smirk formed across her own.  If the child came from any other wife or concubine, the power may have shifted significantly towards said woman.  For this reason, and by her amazing wit, Kikyo used her husband’s fondness of her to turn the tables in her favor.  She was not about to lose the power she had worked up all these years.

The knowledge of a reciprocated attraction was, however, very reassuring.

“Oh, darling!” Back in character, Kikyo pulled back from her husband to look deep into his eyes.  “Thank you.., so much.” Taking care of children was difficult work; she wasn't ready for yet another one. Not to mention even trying at kids again terrified her. She had already given birth five times, and the chances of survival weren't exactly in her favor. “I... suppose since you've done this for me, I can agree to stop pushing Killua to take the throne before he's of age...” It was an idea she was toying with anyway, so this was hardly a loss on her favor. Her husband had some good points, so there was no reason to object, especially when a simple acquiescence would get her much farther into her safe position. Yes, she knew by the way Sylva smiled and kissed her; she hand him in her hands, wrapped around her fingers as he wrapped her in his arms. Right where they wanted the other to be.

It’s never a good day when the first thing woken up to is a sobbing little girl, holding something soft and white in her hands.  Killua, being the good brother that he was, however, jolted out of bed for her sake, urgently detangling himself from Gon.  Said squire was now beyond just stirring, and as he sat up, he was overly confused about what exactly what was being said between the two siblings.  

“Nanika didn’t do it!  Nanika is a good girl, I swear!”  Alluka’s voice was urgent, and she kept alternating between extending her hands out to her brother and, in a panic, drawing them back to herself, terrified of a scolding from her beloved older brother.  Killua, however, seemed to be nowhere close to reprimanding her. Instead, he encased his little sister in a hug, noting with some trepidation that she was shaking violently.

“I believe you; it’s okay.”  He stroked her hair, voice soft and soothing, “tell Killua what happened, okay?”   They held their hug for a few moments, and after a while, her wailing was reduced to mere sniffles.  Killua had a way of placating his siblings.

“The bird... the bird, it... it...” She pulled away, holding her hands close to herself for a few seconds before finally stretching her arms out to her sibling once more.  In her tiny hands rested a bright white bird with a little black stripe stretching around the back of its neck.  A ring-necked dove sat in her hands, still and cold and dead.  Killua grimmanced.

“You found it this way?” She nodded, long, dark hair flowing with the movement.  The prince forced up a smile.  “That’s okay; it’s just a bird, right?”

“But, Killua!” The young child seemed to swallow back another sob, instead breathing out a shaky coo, “Nanika saw it die!  Nanika saw it fly into the castle wall and die!”  Her brother was altogether extremely disturbed, but he took the little creature for her anyway, letting her wipe at her eyes freely now.

“Are you okay?  Did it scare you?”

“Killuar!  It ran into the castle!”

“Nanika, I-”

“It ran right into that wall there!” And to Killua’s horror, his sister pointed to where his window lay above his bed.  His facade almost faltered, but he had to keep it together for the sake of this little girl that he loved so dearly, and for the sake of the oblivious squire that he cared so much for (who was now wide awake and even more confused than when he first woke up).  The prince shook his head, managing out a soft trail of laughter.

“It’s fine, Nanika.  We’re just lucky it-”

“Killua, it flew into your wall, and it died!  And it’s white, Killua!  It’s a white bird!  It’s a white bird, brother, and Nanika saw it die when it ran into-”

“Why don’t we go play in the garden?” Killua’s interruption made her falter for only a second.

“It-It was flying from a sparrow and it-”

“What do you say, Alluka?”

“It... It...” The girl’s lower lip quivered for a moment, and she began to tear up once more, but after wiping her eyes for the umpteenth time, she seemed lost and confused, but significantly more calm.  Puzzled, she spared a glance to her brother, then to Gon, then to her brother once more before a large grin spread across her face.

“Hehe, playing in the garden sounds great!  The flowers are all blooming early this year!  We’ll be able to make crowns for everyone!”  Alluka threw her hands up proudly before rushing to the door.  “Get dressed quickly and come down!  I’ll get started on my own crown!” Killua pitied the poor Freesias that the maids had only recently planted in the ground, but he knew new ones would sprout out in fall, as the plants had two blooming seasons. Besides, at the moment, he had more pressing issues than the fate of little blooms.

Distantly, he looked down at the small creature in his hands, feeling his throat close up in an ineffable dread. Killua heard the bed creak just a bit as Gon shifted to stand, and the signature sound of silk slipping against itself meant that he had finally taken the covers off.

“Killua?”

“It's just a little sad, is all.” The prince smiled softly, a morose, tumultuous array of emotions behind his eyes. He was holding something back; the prince was hiding something, and Gon knew it, but he couldn't possibly ever peg it down. Killua was an enigma in that the little ephemeral holes in his facade broke so vaguely that even if he recognized something was wrong, it was impossible to discern just what it was. It honestly seemed like the boy kept it that way on purpose, and at the moment, as the sharply cold, wooden floor greeted the squire's feet, he wanted nothing more than to understand this boy. They had just passed Gon's sixteenth birthday, and in a world where most people only lived to their mid-thirties, he was practically a man now, wasn't he? Shouldn't he be smart enough to know what was wrong with the prince? His friend? The boy he loved?

No, no wasn't the time to dwell on that all; right now, he had to cheer Killua up.

“Hey, don't worry, fair prince! We can bury it among the garden and give it a just funeral! It will be the most honorable bird in the land!” He giggled obliviously, taking his friend by the elbow. He was confused by many things right now: just who “Nanika” is, why Killua was so worked up over this little bird, why Alluka was so worked up. However, if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that he hated seeing his best friend sad.

“Yeah, you're right.” Slowly, the prince lifted his gaze to his squire, nodding slowly as a smile spread across his cheeks. “We'll bury it among the alstroemerias.” where it belongs, he resisted the urge to add his thoughts, and simply laughed as Gon started dragging him to the closets. He set the frail creature down on his nightstand and got dressed for the day ahead of him.

As per usual with funerals, the small bird was placed in a delicate coffin (a little ornate, hinged box that at one point must have held something precious) and carried outside, exalted in the highest degree by the three children.  Alluka seemed to have forgotten all about it, as she was enthralled in her crown, but once Killua reminded her of the tiny creature that had perished, she was stoic and mourning.  They buried the diminutive animal in a patch of alstroemerias, as suggested by Killua, then held a moment of silence for the creature.  

The somber situation didn’t last long, and afterwards, it seemed that everything was back to normal.  Besides the newly overturned dirt, the field was still the same, marvelous sea of petals with a few little islands of emerald grass here and there.

Both boys began their new crowns, and Alluka continued hers.  They had made many garlands over the years, but flowers were fickle, ephemeral things—as are most beautiful things in life—and in time, they died.  

The children couldn’t quite complain, however, as they were always ready to make another one and another one;  their fingers moved quickly and skillfully, even when working with the most delicate plants.  Gon began to make a crown for Killua, so in return, Killua made one for Gon, and eventually, somehow, they started to intertwine their appellation flowers into one crown.  Of course, quite a bit of giggling ensued, as this was a practice common to married couples, but the boys were rather content with it altogether.

Though, in the end, they did fight over it a bit.

Alluka, meanwhile, was working diligently.  She was absolutely determined to make a flower crown out of these delicate hyacinths.  Though, honestly, it wasn’t going well for her in the slightest,  as, unlike her usual material of freesias, these flowers were small and fragile, and their stems weren’t really stems at all: more like tiny, unworkable offshoots off of a main stem.  Delphiniums were also organized this way in their cluster, but the offshoots were often thinner and easier to bend.  It was the difference between working with thick, old branches and delicate, tiny sticks from a new tree.   

“Agh!  It’s hopeless!”  Groaning, Alluka fell back in the field, laying to look up at the clouds in despair.  Her outcry, of course, caught the attention of Gon and Killua, who were working on their second inter-woven crown at the moment.  The prince was the first to speak up.  

“Need any help?”  His tone gave away a sense of “I told you so,” as he did, in fact, tell her that working with the hyacinths would be a nightmare.

“I...”  Now, Alluka was stubborn, but unlike her brother, she knew when it was time to give up and accept assistance.  She sighed, extending her bunch of flowers to her brother.  “Yeah, I guess...”

“Here, let me- h-hey!”  Killua reached out, but immediately whipped his attention towards Gon as the squire stole one of the many crowns the prince had stacked on his head.  Said boy was busy putting the garland he robbed atop his own mess of hair, but that effort was thwarted as well, as Killua had reached out and snagged another crown off.  This started a vicious war between the two boys, and Alluka was left to just watch as the two wrestled over a few rings of flowers.

“Big brother!” She whined, huffing when she realized the playful battle wasn’t going to end just because she wanted Killua’s attention right then and there.  Sighing, she looked around her, ignoring the shouting and name-calling in the background.  Instead, she picked up her freesias and began making another bright yellow crown.  She wished her hyacinths were like the freesias;  the blue flowers lacked the long, strong yet thin stem, and they were just tinier and harder to work with.  She’d rather they just be combined into one flower...

Suddenly, an idea flashed across her mind, and she giggled, getting busy with her work.  

Gon and Killua were still dueling over stolen crowns; though, after a while it was certainly hard to tell the difference between them all.  Almost a dozen had been lost to the heat of battle, fallen down into the tall blades of grass that the prince and his companion tumbled through.  They were pulling and pushing, and of course there was the occasional punch or kick, and before long, they were both out of breath—Killua more so than his squire.

The prince lay atop his squire, breathing deeply before breaking out into a giggle fit.  Below him, Gon squirmed as if this tiny, frail body atop him was truly impossible to toss aside.  It was incredibly amusing.  Said boy blushed a bit as he realized his facade wasn’t quite convincing, so instead, he wrapped his arms around Killua, clamping him in place.  The younger of the two didn’t even try to struggle, as he knew from experience that Gon had gotten much stronger than him ever since he fell ill.  There was a sense of hurt pride there for awhile, but now, it didn’t seem so important.  

Right now, it seemed like the least important thing on Earth.

As soon as Gon had placed his hands firmly on the prince’s back, the two had a locked gaze: unwavering, deep.  In Killua’s eyes, Gon looked as if he was going to fade into the ground below him and sprout up as the most glorious assortment of flowers known to man.  In Gon’s eyes, Killua looked as if he was going to float up suddenly and ascend to the clouds, becoming some kind of mystic, celestial being.  

Complete silence and a slight breeze toppled Killua’s first crown off of his head, leaving behind just a few that he and Gon had made together.  Blue and yellow blooms overlaid the silver chain he wore to mark his status as prince, and Gon’s golden eyes were unable to leave the cerulean irises above him.  They were locked in place—in wonder—for who knows how long, until finally, a shout of victory came from the child near them.

“I did it!  It worked!” The two speedily unlatched from each other, Killua rolling over quickly while Gon sat straight up, heat building in his cheeks. The prince was even quicker to hop out from behind his beloved companion to spring to his little sister, patting her hair affectionately. Honestly, though, he wasn't fooling anyone with that nervous laughter of his.

“You did it? For real, Alluka?”

“Yeah...” She spared her brother a knowing glance before smiling, though, Killua could have sworn he saw a hint of a smirk. “I really did, big brother.” She giggled this time, holding up the crown to Killua. She was obviously extremely proud of it. Ingeniously, she had simply strung the hyacinths together using the stems of other flowers. This gave only a side profile of the blue flowers, but it left Alluka's freesias on full display, and honestly the combination was one of subtly vibrant beauty... if that made any sense.

“It's really nice, Alluka. You should make these professionally or something.” He laughed, turning the little garland in his hands. “Why hyacinths though?”

“Because they're Zushi's flowers, of course!” A few seconds of silence passed, and in that time, Alluka had taken her crown back, and Killua had merely stood there speechlessly pondering.

Zushi? His page? The little brunet boy? That Zushi? Huh, he didn't even know they were friends. His sister just made a composite crown for the kid too... huh... huh...

“Huh?! Zushi?! Are you mad?! A gift like that is as good as a proposal! You know the significance of intertwining the flowers two people are named after!”

“Big Brother!!! You're so boring! I can do what I want! Zushi will appreciate it.”

“No, Zushi is going to get the wrong idea! You can't do this!”

“You just did it with Gon.” Alluka was dead-panning at her sibling, and like a lead weight, realization fell upon Killua shamefully. Abashed, he quickly took the blue and yellow crowns off of his head, cheeks bright red, expression indignant.

“I-It's totally different!”

“Nu-uh! It's the same thing, and you know it, big brother.” Alluka laughed as she stood, dusting off the skirt of her dress. “Now if you'll excuse me, I have a present to deliver,” and Killua could do nothing to stop his little sister from skipping off without a care in the world.

While he yelled at a newly giggling Gon, a simple sparrow began pecking around at the dirt the children had ever-so-carefully patted down. Silently, it mourned the loss of a long-time friend, and eventually, it settled down into the dirt there, closing it's eyes for an unusually early respite.

It was the depths of night, and once more, Killua's birthday was right around the corner. Tomorrow, he would be 16 years of age. Gon wasn't quite sure how to feel about it all. Sure, at the moment, he still had the boy of his dreams in his arms, warm and soft like a lamb or a kitten, but he was in deep thought, humming as he stroked the prince's hair sweetly. All of this felt like such a dream. It was so fuzzy and... miraculous. All these years... he couldn't imagine what he did to deserve this kind of luck, this kind of love. As many books as he and Killua read, he never found one that truly described this life, this moment, this feeling.

Gon was in love, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

Killua's breathing was evening, however, and that meant if he didn't speak now, the prince would fall asleep before he could say anything else.

“Killua? You still awake?” Gon received a hum in reply; of course he was still awake; if he was asleep, he'd be less tense. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Considering you've already asked two, one more wouldn't hurt too badly, right?” The intelligent quip meant that Killua was still fully cognizant of his surroundings.

“I know we've both been reading up on that Buddhism thing...” at this, the boy in his arms shifted a bit, probably embarrassed that Gon found that out. “I was wondering... Do you think that reincarnation thing is real?” A silence befell them, and Killua remained still only to shift around a bit more, eventually untangling himself from his squire. He balanced himself on an elbow and his side, turned to face Gon. His friend wanted serious answers, which was, admittedly, kind of rare; he much preferred jokes to discussion.

“I mean... I want to believe in it...”

“You want to?”

“It, uh, it makes sense, I guess, but not really...” The only thing Killua could really see of his companion was a set of glowing golden eyes, illuminated in the scarce moonlight that fluttered through his bed curtains. “I just... don't like the whole rank thing... I don't think people should have to go through level after level just to go to, uh... Nir... Nirvana? I don't even think priests and knights are more important than a regular worker; that's dumb.” Gon was hanging onto his ever word. This boy was possibly the most interesting noble he had ever heard of. As far as he knew, royalty was snobbish and posh, but being friends with a dirty peasant and almost dying of an awful disease probably had a little to do with his down-to-Earth views.

“That's a lot to say, considering your social rank.”

“It's really nothing, considering you're just as good as I am, and you were the dirtiest, smelliest kid I had ever met in my life.”

“Hey!” Killua laughed, an angelic sound that made the tips of his squire's ears go red.

“You smell fine now, don't worry~. It's so sad how you westerners can't seem to appreciate a good bath.”

“I like them now...”

“It's only because I burn incense and wash your back for you.” Killua's head lolled a bit to the side, and Gon thought for a moment that his friend was truly trying to kill him. He never got embarrassed, but the prince just had this way with people...

“...S-So you think it's false?”

“Huh?”

“The reincarnation thing...”

“Oh, that... well,” Killua's face dropped back into serious mode. He wasn't upset, just thinking. “In my opinion, it makes sense that we have souls, but I hate this ladder to Nirvana thing, so maybe they just like to come back later if they have unfinished business?”

“'Unfinished business'?”

“Yeah, for example: they have something they never had the chance to do in a past life, or maybe they want something else out of their life that they never made in the past one. Makes sense to me...” Another silence stretched, but this one was longer than all the rest. It represented a vacillating period: internal questioning and pondering of philosophical whisperings just before midnight. Eventually, when Gon realized that no amount of sureness would drive away his uncertainty, he decided to pose another question instead.

“Hey, Killua?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you want to be in your next life?” Gon was genuinely curious. He wasn't sure he quite had the answer himself, but he wanted to know what Killua wanted most. In a roundabout way, it was like asking the prince for his deepest desires.

“Uh...” Killua, meanwhile, was caught completely off-guard by the question. How was he supposed to answer? Not a prince? A normal kid? Someone who didn't get a deadly illness early in his childhood? There were many things he wanted, but to build up a concrete answer... He couldn't think of anything worth mentioning. Instead, he decided to lead the question elsewhere. “What do you want to be?” Through several minutes of adjusting. Killua's eyes were able to perceive a grin stretch across Gon's face.

“In my next life, I want to be me and meet you again!” It felt natural to say, so he did, and the glowing blush he gained from the prince in return was priceless. He wouldn't have given it up for the world.

“I-Idiot...” Completely enamored with his flustered companion, Gon reached out and took his best friend's hand, laying his lips lightly on the pale knuckles before pulling away, giggling. Killua nearly let out a yelp, but made no move to pull his hand back. They just lay there for awhile, blushing and staring at each other, until eventually, his prince uttered out, well, not quite romantic words.

“My uh, my shoulder is falling asleep...” Of course hoisting himself up like that for over half and hour would do that. Gon immediately let go of the graceful, delicate hand in his grasp and grinned once more as Killua settled back into bed, his squire right beside him. Cuddling close, the two boys decided that holding hands would somehow make their rest easier and more fulfilling, so they did just that. Of course, as they slept, they were a prince and a squire, but together, they were so much more: yin and yang, grace and tactlessness, heaven and Earth.

Most importantly, however, they were just two young boys in love.