Chapter Text
“What are men to rocks and mountains?” ― Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
~
They had told him about the culture and the language and the appropriate way to dress, to eat, to speak. They had told him about which holidays their countries shared, which ones they didn’t. He knew the founding date of the capital city and the name of their tallest mountain. He knew that their highest exports were coal and salt, and that the majority of the common folk spoke a completely different dialect from the official language. So yes, theoretically, he knew about Kihiton’s weather, the abundance of snow they got each year, how it ran into their reservoirs in the spring and propelled the livestock industry.
But Nicholas had underestimated how cold it would be.
It was fucking freezing— excuse his language— and the bumpiness of the road didn't help his comfort. The carriage bounced with every tiny rock it hit, and Nicholas’s butt was growing numb. Harua, the servant they had sent along as an engagement gift to accompany him on his journey and act as a translator, looked just as uncomfortable. He was so light that he was tossed around like a doll every time they took a sharp turn.
It was very inconsiderate of the Kihitonese to build their palace on the top of a mountain. It could have been somewhere easier to get to. Maybe on the beach, like his uncle’s palace in Hengtzu.
He didn't dare to push aside the curtain to take a peek outside, too afraid to let the wind in, but he would bet it was snowing already. It was only early November.
He was debating asking the driver if there were any extra blankets in the compartment he was sitting on, but before he could, the carriage stopped abruptly. Nicholas lurched forward and was caught by the one guard that was traveling in the carriage with them rather than outside on horseback. Harua slid off the bench smoothly, like a block of ice, and barely managed to catch himself before he fell to the floor.
A moment later, the door was opening. Nicholas was hit by a blast of cold air that made him close his eyes, and when he opened them again, he was facing a boy wearing a plain woolen cloak, the collar of which covered half his face, though the red tips of his ears poked out.
Looking past the young servant, there were four people standing in a line, all wearing finery lined with fur. Nicholas automatically reached for a hand to help him out of the carriage, and was met with the gloved fingers of the boy who’d opened it. He stepped out carefully, limbs stiff from the long hours of travel in a wooden box with little to be had for cushion. Harua climbed out behind him and followed a few steps behind as he approached the royal family.
Nicholas fell into a deep, graceful bow.
He was met with two beats of silence before the emperor spoke. “Please, Lord Yixiang, rise,” he said, his voice deep and resonant, reminiscent of Nicholas’s uncle the king. He supposed most rulers sounded similar.
Nicholas rose as commanded, standing with the posture of someone to whom it had been taught. His head, however, remained slightly lowered, eyes at the emperor’s feet, appropriately deferential to the highest ranking alpha in the vicinity.
“Emperor Katsuhito, Empress Yuko. You have a beautiful country.”
“Your uncle did say you were polite,” Empress Yuko said.
Nicholas’s smile didn't waver, didn't shrink or grow. “I’m glad to hear it.”
The empress stepped forward and reached out a hand, clad in silk gloves. Nicholas took it obligingly and finally looked up. Empress Yuko’s eyes were round, outlined in feathery wrinkles. She was pretty, thin, about the same height as Nicholas. “I’m sure you’re hungry. Please come inside with us, and an informal supper will be served shortly. There’s no need to change.”
On cue, Nicholas’s stomach rumbled. The empress kindly said nothing, but gestured him forward to walk with her. They passed the rest of them— those three men, standing in a rehearsed straight line.
Which one was he about to marry? They likely would have put the crown prince next to the emperor, meaning Nicholas’s fiancé was the tall one wearing a dark brown fur cloak and leather boots. He hadn’t gotten a good glimpse of his face, and now he was walking ahead of them, which made it impossible to take a discreet peek.
Nicholas’s shoes, too thin for the weather, crunched in the snow, and he shivered at the reminder of the cold.
The empress frowned. “Is that coat your only layer?” she asked. “We’ll have to get you something warmer.”
“We don’t get a lot of snow in Chenjidou, Your Majesty,” Nicholas answered. Or, truly, any snow at all. The only reason he knew what it looked like was because he’d studied in Jiryeong, a country just south of here, for a few years before he’d presented as an omega and was called home.
“You’ll need proper boots, too, I suppose. I’ll have my women inform the tailor. It’s the least we can do, inviting you here for the first time just at the start of true winter. A week earlier and the sky would have been clear as day.”
I’ll just have to wait until next year, Nicholas thought gloomily, and was unbalanced at the idea of spending so much time at this foreign palace that he would see the entire winter through, watch the spring come and fade again, pass the summer in these mountains in place of the sprawling fields and undulating waves back home. He’d only been away two weeks, which was the time it took to travel from one end of the continent to the other, and he was already missing Chenjidou.
The doors to the palace were three times as tall as Nicholas, thick chunks of dark wood intricately carved with images of dragons and twisting branches and looming mountainous sky lines. The carvings were inlaid with shining silver. Nicholas watched as the doors began to move, someone in the tower above likely turning a wheel, making heavy chains pull the doors open. It was quite a bit of fanfare. As much as he appreciated the beauty of the doors, Nicholas wondered if they had a smaller entrance, somewhere you didn't have to go through a ceremony before you could enter your home.
The ceiling of the hall inside was just as tall as the doors, cherry wood illuminated by warm yellow lanterns hung at regular intervals. The walls were paneled with gold, and the lantern light flicked across the impeccably shined surfaces in an uncoordinated dance. It was a strange contrast against the dark wood.
A quarter of the way down the hall, Empress Yuko took a turn to the left, and they came to a dining area. The table was long enough to hold a feast, but only the far end had been set with dishes and silverware. There were six settings.
The royal family, plus Nicholas.
His stomach flipped. He stopped short before the table, unsure of where to sit, but before he could embarrass himself by having a crisis five minutes after his introduction, the tall prince pulled out a chair for him before walking around to the other side of the table. Nicholas dipped his head in thanks.
Emperor Katsuhito ended up sitting at the head of the table, with Empress Yuko and Nicholas on one side, the two sons on the other. Harua hovered nearby along with a few other serving staff in case Nicholas needed a translator, holding a pitcher of water to refill glasses.
He was sitting directly across from Koga Yudai, Crown Prince of Kihiton, his future husband, and it was then that Nicholas finally looked at his face. The prince wasn’t unattractive, Nicholas thought neutrally, but he didn't feel anything looking at him, except for a hint of anxiety in his gut, but that had been there for the past couple months. It wasn’t new.
Besides, it didn't matter if Nicholas felt something looking at the crown prince. He was going to marry him either way. It wasn’t like he could decide otherwise at this point in the arrangement. The moment marriage had been brought up in his uncle’s throne room was the moment Nicholas could no longer decide what he wanted.
And anyway, the crown prince’s face was symmetrical. His eyes were bright and clear. His shoulders were broad. He looked like an alpha that little girls pictured when they thought about their future.
Yudai looked up and they made eye contact for a split second before Nicholas’s gaze darted away.
“Have you eaten kake soba before, Lord Yixiang?” he heard Empress Yuko ask.
“I don’t believe so, Your Majesty.”
When the empress smiled, dimples appeared in her cheeks. “How exciting to be able to introduce you to our cuisine. Please do tell me whenever a dish is to your liking– I’ll pass it along to the chef,” she said.
Nicholas smiled before he could stop himself, eyebrows creeping together like they always did when he was amused. It made his forehead crease, Nicholas remembered, and stopped smiling.
He was going to respond to the empress again, but reminded himself that he was trying to make a good impression on behalf of his country. No one liked a chatty omega.
He waited for the meal to be brought out in silence, while the two princes on the other side of the table talked quietly back and forth in Kihitonese, too fast for Nicholas to understand, heads pressed close together. The younger one– Riki, Nicholas recalled from his lessons, but everyone called him Taki since he was young– looked up at Nicholas for a moment and then blushed and looked back down like he’d been caught.
They were talking about him, Nicholas knew. He didn't care much. All he wanted right then was a warm bed. He didn't even care about getting clean first, he just wanted his head on a pillow and a heavy blanket. It wasn’t a realistic vision. He likely had hours to go before he could retire: dinner, then more questions that they already knew the answers to over drinks and dessert, an introduction to his chambers, and then he would have to let servants draw him a bath before he could finally get some rest, or they would gossip.
It was exhausting just thinking about it. But this had been Nicholas’s life for years now, and he was a good actor.
Empress Yuko’s scent was faint under her layers of clothing, even after she’d removed her fur cloak, but Nicholas could smell the slight earthiness of it. It was a typical scent for a beta, which Nicholas knew her to be from his lengthy education. Taki was a beta, as well. The emperor and crown prince were alphas. Kihiton’s royal family didn't commonly have omegas in their lineage.
Then again, neither did Chenjidou’s. Nicholas had been the first since his great-grandmother, other than his aunt, who had married into the family. And a male omega, at that! It had been quite a surprise when he presented at the age of eighteen, three years ago now— he’d spent his first heat in a guest room at a distant relative’s mansion near where he was attending university in Jiryeong.
Nicholas had never been set to inherit much of anything, too far from the line of succession, his father a fourth son and himself a third, so he’d been allowed to go where he pleased.
Not anymore. A male omega was a gift from the gods. It would be a waste to let him become some minor diplomat and marry a nice girl he met at university. Hence why Nicholas sitting at a too-large table in a cold northern country, avoiding his fiancé’s eyes.
The food came out finally, brought by three servants who worked quickly to set the large silver pot of noodle soup and two ceramic cups of sake on the table in front of them. Nicholas’s mouth started to water, but he reminded himself to wait to be served, even as everyone else helped themselves, using the ladle to spoon the soup into their bowls. He just looked at the enticing rich brown broth and fat noodles and leafy greens, and his ears began to burn.
Should he just serve himself? He was hungry enough to excuse his own bad behavior. Maybe he should just ignore custom for that night. Nobody—
Empress Yuko cleared her throat quietly, glancing at her son. Yudai’s eyes widened, and he jumped a little in his seat as he leaned forward to serve Nicholas two ladlefuls of soup. Nicholas muttered a quick, embarrassed thanks. The soup burned his tongue on the way down, and he barely managed to keep in his wince.
“I apologize, Lord Yixiang, my son seems to have forgotten his manners after his years in the military,” the empress remarked. Yudai’s face was red. Nicholas didn't know what to say, so he stayed quiet and took another spoonful of soup, remembering to blow on it to cool it down this time. If you don’t have something important to say, don’t say anything , his mother would scold him.
“He was always like this,” Taki said.
Nicholas wanted to laugh. He didn't. There was soup in his mouth.
The rest of the meal passed in the same way. The royal family made pleasant conversation and Nicholas quietly ate his soup. He didn’t ask for Harua’s help once, which he was quite proud of, even if a lot of the conversation went over his head. Every so often, the empress would ask Nicholas a question, and he would give the shortest reply possible.
~
“...well, a tower for many reasons, but chiefly because she liked spiral staircases.” — Keri Hulme, The Bone People
~
To his surprise, there was no after-dinner, faux-casual, fireside drinking affair, and Nicholas and Harua were led straight to his chambers by one of the servants, the beta who had helped him out of the carriage. He led them down the hallway and up a steep spiraling staircase lit by lamps set at regular intervals in the stone walls, their footsteps echoing in the small space. At the top, it opened up into a large passageway with several doors. He unlocked the very last one with a key attached to his sash, and it opened up to a small entrance chamber from which branched off a master bedroom, a small servant’s quarters with two twin beds, and a bathroom.
The lamps were lit and there was a fire in the hearth in anticipation of their arrival. All of Nicholas’s luggage had been brought up by someone while they were eating, the leather cases stacked in a neat pile at the foot of the giant bed in the middle of the room.
A bed fit for nesting , Nicholas’s brain whispered. It wouldn’t be the same as when he did it in the palace in Hengtzu, where they had a whole room with heated floors and mountains of cushions to share. But it would work just fine, he could imagine.
“Fetch the hot stones please, Yuma,” Harua said quietly, and their brief guide bowed and slipped out of the room. Then he turned to Nicholas, back straight and hands at his sides like a perfect soldier. “I’ll run you a bath, my lord. Sit, please.”
All Nicholas wanted to do was collapse into that ridiculous bed, but he nodded agreeably because he knew if he didn’t Harua would worry, and he’d grown to like the other omega during their few weeks together. He had a calm and implacable demeanor on the surface, but he was really rather skittish. He didn’t make fun of Nicholas when he said something wrong in Kihitonese, but just gently corrected him. Sometimes, when Nicholas cracked a joke, a smile would creep onto his face before he could help it.
Nicholas sat in a plush velvet armchair next to the hearth and watched as Harua went and retrieved Nicholas’s nightgown from his suitcase and laid it out on the bed neatly. Then he came over and began brushing out Nicholas’s hair. He’d worn it loose for the journey, so there were no pins to take out, but it still felt nice.
“It’s getting long,” he commented, feeling the hair brushing the back of his neck.
“Omegas in Kyama wear their hair long,” Harua replied. He ran a finger precisely along the top of Nicholas’s scalp to create a neat part, and Nicholas shivered at the sensation.
“You don’t."
“I’m not from Kyama.” A moment of silence while he gave everything one more pass over and then put down the brush in its rightful place on the dresser. “I don’t like it getting in my eyes.”
The honest answer surprised Nicholas into a laugh, and Harua smiled at him bashfully.
A knock came at the door then. Harua scurried over and opened it to receive the basket of hot stones that Yuma had gotten for his bath, giving him a small bow before closing the door again.
Nicholas watched in a half-awake state as Harua placed the hot stones into the porcelain basin and turned on the pipes, which squeaked in complaint as they poured water over the stones. Steam hissed and rose from the basin like dust kicked up by a passing horse.
He let Harua undo his buttons and slip off his shirt and pants, guide him into the bath, pour rose oil into the water to perfume and moisturize his skin. Nicholas’s eyes slipped closed as he massaged soap into his hair and rinsed it out again, applying just enough pressure with his fingers, never tugging a strand the wrong way. He wondered if the art of washing someone else’s hair was something you could practice, or if Harua was just born talented.
By the time Nicholas was clean and dry, he felt as if he might fall over on the spot. He stumbled over to the bed on Harua’s arm and let the younger omega lift his nightgown over his head and lay him down nestled in the sheets. The touch of the fabric against his cheeks was like a cloud, and he instinctively rubbed his face against it, scenting the bedding slightly.
He watched with half-lidded eyes as Harua tiptoed out of the room.
For the first time in weeks of travel, Nicholas was alone.