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“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Genya shakes his head incredulously as he scans the paper with his orders. They’re no different than the first time he read them, and they’re no less unbelievable. “Bodyguard to the prince? I’m supposed to be in the cavalry!”
The man who delivered his orders doesn’t seem to care. “Your brother insisted on it. Said he doesn’t want you anywhere near a battlefield.”
“But - you can’t just - this is—” he sputters, unable to come up with a coherent thought other than you can’t do this. It’s not that he wants to be on the front lines - not hardly. But to spend his days waiting on a member of the royal family, on a young man who’s probably never even touched a sword or nursed a single bruise? Or - which prince is it? Is he going to be forced to babysit a toddler?
He’s supposed to become Sanemi’s squire. They’re supposed to be together; Genya’s not supposed to be safe in the castle while Sanemi is out risking his life on the warfront.
But…Sanemi wants this? Asked for this directly?
…Does he not think Genya is strong enough to make it on the battlefield? That Genya’s too weak to actually fight, so it’s better to have him locked away in the castle? Genya knows Sanemi was furious when he first started learning to be a knight, but furious enough to do this?
The messenger just watches as Genya’s brain frantically cycles through what to do next. Really, though, it’s not like there’s anything he can do. These are his orders and, as a knight, he has to follow them. Like it or not.
Gritting his teeth, he concedes, “All right. Let’s go.”
The ride from the training facility to the castle isn’t long - not even half a day’s ride. Makes sense, Genya supposes: in case there’s ever an attack on the castle, there’ll be plenty of extra troops nearby.
“You’ll be assigned to quarters off the prince’s,” the messenger - Genya really should learn his name, but he’s been a little distracted since learning his entire life plan has been wholly upended - informs him as they enter the castle through the servants’ entrance.
“Yes, sir,” he mutters, ready to be as bitter about this as possible - these might be his orders, but he doesn’t have to be happy about them. Still, as they enter the main area of the castle, he can’t help but be a little in awe of the place. Sure, it’s opulent, and just one of those vases is probably worth enough to feed his family for a month, but at least it’s somewhat tasteful. There are a weird number of paintings that display fire in various ways, from hearths to candles to roaring blazes, but they are sort of nice. He can appreciate the artistic skill behind them, anyway.
Not that he’s going to like it here. Not that he wants to be here in the slightest.
But…if he’s going to be stuck here, at least the place doesn’t look awful to boot.
He follows the messenger up two flights of stairs to a wing of the castle that’s surprisingly cozy compared to the rest of it. No fancy end tables with flowers; there’s only one painting he can see and it’s of a fireplace in a library somewhere.
They stop before an unremarkable wooden door, where the messenger knocks and calls, “Prince? I’ve brought your guard for you to meet.”
Genya’s stomach drops. He’d thought he’d be allowed some time to settle in - even half a day - before meeting his new ward. But, no, he’s getting thrown right into the deep end, without even the time to get his swear words out before he’s stuck in polite company for, presumably, the rest of his life.
Great.
The door swings open only a second later, as if someone was waiting eagerly for their arrival. And Genya’s heart, damn it, does a flip-flop, because he’s seen portraits of the royal family before, but he didn’t know which prince he’d be expected to guard, and this is—
Well, he’s not a toddler.
And he’s far prettier than any of the portraits ever made him seem.
He just barely remembers to bow; it’s not even remotely graceful, but at least he doesn’t completely disrespect the heir to the throne upon their very first meeting. “Greetings, Your Highness,” he mumbles, staring at the ground.
Dear god, he is completely, utterly screwed.
“Oh!” the prince says. “You don’t have to do that - just call me Tanjiro, please.”
…What.
“Prince!” the messenger exclaims. “That’s completely informal!”
“Well,” the prince reasons, “we’re going to be spending a lot of time together, aren’t we? It’s going to be awkward if we have to be all formal and proper all the time.”
The messenger is utterly aghast at this but, it seems, unwilling to outright contradict a royal. “Y-yes, Your Highness,” he concedes with a bow. “I’ll - leave the two of you to get acquainted.”
“Thank you,” the prince says, and Genya looks up just in time to see the utterly sparkling smile he gives the man.
Is it too soon to request reassignment? Genya can handle many things - getting the crap beaten out of him in training, hazing, falling off his horse - but this just might be his undoing.
He cannot have a crush on a member of the royal family. That’s not what this is. Absolutely not.
It’s not like he really knows the prince, anyway - he can hardly say he likes him. No, this isn’t a crush - the prince is merely attractive. Reasonable enough.
“I’m sorry about that,” the prince says once the messenger leaves. “I’ve never liked the titles, but apparently it’s tradition, so we can never ever change it, or something, and - anyway.” He steps to the side, nodding for Genya to enter the room. “You’ve been traveling, haven’t you? You probably want a chance to settle in.”
Genya follows him, because what else is he supposed to do, into a room he never would’ve expected to be a prince’s. There’s a bed, a few bookshelves, a writing desk, and a fireplace; the window seat has an absolutely stunning view of the fields beyond the castle. Genya almost thinks he can see all the way to his home village.
“So, uh,” the prince says - he asked to be called Tanjiro but Genya cannot fathom doing that. “You know me, but what’s your name?”
“Um - Genya Shinazugawa,” Genya answers with a bow of his head. “Knight in training, Your High—” no, he said no titles, dammit. “Uh. It’s my honor to serve you.”
Sure. Honor.
He’d rather be on stall-mucking duty for a year than have to deal with this - a prince who might not be nearly as bad as he’d expected.
“It’s nice to meet you!” The prince turns that blinding smile on Genya, and it feels like he’s looking directly into the sun. “Anyway, your quarters are right through there.” He points to one of three doors set into the wall nearest to the bed. “Take your time settling in - dinner isn’t until six, but if you’re hungry, I can ask for someone to bring something.”
Is this what being royal is like? Anything you want with a single request? It’s inconceivable.
“N-no thank you; I’m fine,” he says, and hurries for the door indicated. He needs to be alone, to clear his head and process what the hell just happened
“Okay,” the prince says, and for a strange moment he almost sounds wistful.
Before Genya can unpack that, he lets the door fall shut behind him with a clank.
The next few days are…an adjustment period. Genya spends his time either utterly bored as the prince goes about his princely duties or like he’s going to lose his mind when the prince turns that glowing smile on him. Considering there hasn’t been an assassination attempt on the royal family since this war began, he doesn’t understand why the prince even needs a guard. But, hey, no one’s asking him.
The prince is by no means what he expected. He’d anticipated someone aware of his status and willing to use it to his advantage, prissy and small-minded and, at best, naive. But the prince - Tanjiro - is thoughtful, humble, and if there’s something he doesn’t know, he seeks to learn more about it. On Genya’s first morning in the castle, he asked how Genya slept and genuinely seemed to care about the answer.
This is fine. It’s all fine. Genya is managing, getting used to life in the castle. If he wishes he could talk to Sanemi, that doesn’t matter - Sanemi’s made it pretty clear he doesn’t want Genya anywhere near him. If he wishes he could just get away from the castle for a bit, past the courtyards and walls to the world outside - there’s nothing he can do about that. The prince is here, so he is too. And it’s really not terrible. The prince is nice, and he doesn’t do anything to make Genya’s job particularly difficult.
And if, every day Genya knows him, that little twinge of oh, he’s cute has grown bigger and bigger until he blushes every time their arms brush? Well, there’s nothing to be done about that, either.
Genya’s been at the castle for two months when the prince - Tanjiro, he’s gotten better about thinking, but still struggles sometimes - suggests they go for a ride. A ride outside the castle. Genya has both their horses tacked up less than half an hour after the words leave the prince’s mouth.
They head out along the trail, the warm spring weather tempered by a cool breeze.
“I’ve missed being able to do this,” the pr—Tanjiro sighs. “I get why I have all these lessons - and I really do want to take good care of this kingdom - but…”
“It’s a lot,” Genya agrees, not quite sure if it counts as treason to encourage Tanjiro to slip off and take breaks more often. The good of the kingdom is at stake, technically.
“Thank you for - you know,” Tanjiro suddenly says. “You have to sit through all the lessons and meetings along with me and you won’t even be king by the end of it.”
“Thank goodness for that,” Genya bites out before he can stop himself. “I just - I mean—”
Tanjiro laughs. “You’re not wrong.” Sobering a little, he admits, “I can’t help but think I’ll never be able to be as good a king as my father. The people deserve someone more experienced than me.”
Genya hesitates. Tanjiro will be a good king; he’s figured out that much even after knowing him for only a few months. To say so outright, though, is terrifying even though it really shouldn’t be. It shouldn't be, and yet his heart is in his throat as he says, “Give yourself a little more credit - you care, and that’s something, right?”
Tanjiro smiles a little. “Thanks.”
They spend the rest of the ride not talking about anything serious, but Genya can’t help but feel something has shifted, just slightly, between them.
It’s the middle of the night, seven months after Genya came to live at the castle, that he hears a thud from Tanjiro’s quarters.
It could be nothing. It wouldn’t be the first time Tanjiro’s woken in the middle of the night and tripped over something in his quest to get a drink. Heck, he could be sleepwalking - it’s happened once; hearing him talking in his sleep was actually pretty entertaining.
But something in the pit of Genya’s stomach is screaming that something is wrong, and he can’t ignore it. And if it’s nothing, and Tanjiro is fine - well, at least then he’ll know.
Rolling out of bed, Genya palms a single dagger and stumbles, still blinking the last dregs of sleep from his eyes, toward the door that connects his quarters to Tanjiro’s. He pushes open the door mid-yawn—
And adrenaline surges through him the second he sees what lies beyond it: a masked figure pinning Tanjiro to the floor and holding a dagger to the prince’s throat.
Genya doesn’t think; he just moves. One moment, he’s across the room; the next, he’s thrown himself into Tanjiro’s attacker, using his weight to throw the assailant off the prince. It’s all muscle memory - he doesn’t think, doesn’t hesitate, as he draws his dagger and plunges it into the attacker’s throat.
It’s only when the would-be assassin coughs and the wound in his throat spurts, sending blood everywhere, that he comes back to himself.
It’s like he’s been hit by a wagon. He scrambles off the twitching body, crawling backwards until he hits the wall.
Did he - he just - he did - oh god—
He can’t tear his gaze away from the blood, the way the body has now gone unnaturally still. He can’t think, he can’t breathe, he can’t—
Oh god. He just killed someone. Oh god.
There is blood on his hands, he sees as he glances down, blood staining him as a killer because that’s what he is; he did it to protect Tanjiro but still; he has taken a life and he knows he will bear that burden for the rest of his life because that’s what all the other knights always said, that they saw the faces of their victims in their sleep and—
He barely manages to force himself to his feet and stagger into the bathroom before he retches.
Oh god, oh god, oh god—
This is why Sanemi didn’t want him near a battlefield, he thinks, and laughs almost hysterically as he clings to the rim of the toilet before gagging again at the sight of the blood on his skin.
His face is wet and he’s not sure if it’s sweat or tears or worse; he doesn’t want to find out. He knows he should go see if Tanjiro is injured, knows he needs to report this assassination attempt and do his job, but he can’t. Four years of training, months in the castle with the expectation that he might have to someday take a life, and this is what he’s reduced to: a shivering mess on a cold tile floor. He is pathetic; he is failing the prince and his brother and the royal family and—
“Genya?” Tanjiro’s hesitant voice breaks through his spiraling thoughts. “A-are you…? No, wait, that’s stupid, I just - oh, god.”
There’s the sound of footsteps, barely audible over the sound of Genya’s wheezing gasps for air, and then there’s a warm hand on his shoulder and he flinches.
Tanjiro pulls back immediately, sliding backwards to give him plenty of room. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I should’ve asked first—!”
But that’s the least of his concerns; it’s not even on his radar when he’s just killed someone.
Oh god, oh god, oh god—
“Genya!” Tanjiro’s voice again, but this time it’s firm instead of tentative. “You need to breathe. You need to calm down.”
Calm down? Calm down? Another hysterical laugh wrings itself out of his chest. “I just - you want me to - I can’t—”
Calmness is a pipe dream; stability means nothing more than the floor beneath him, and even that is tilting wildly.
Suddenly, there are arms around him, and he can think of nothing but escape. He writhes, twisting and pulling, his lungs constricting all the while, but the arms stay with him, holding him tight, and he cannot escape.
“Shh, hey, you’re okay,” Tanjiro’s voice insists. “You’re safe.”
But he isn’t; he is trapped and he can’t escape and he killed someone.
“I’ve got you,” Tanjiro continues, and he realizes—
These are Tanjiro’s arms. Tanjiro is the one holding - holding, not restraining, because Tanjiro wouldn’t do that - him. He is - if not safe, then not in danger. He sags against Tanjiro, his entire body going limp.
He doesn’t know how much time passes like that, both of them huddled in the bathroom, Tanjiro’s arms the only thing keeping him remotely tethered to sanity. He just knows that he’s the one to eventually break the silence by whispering, “I - I killed someone.”
“I know,” Tanjiro says, his voice heavy with something that’s not quite exhaustion.
There’s a pause.
“You saved me,” Tanjiro says.
This is true. If Genya had been just a few seconds later - well. There would be even more blood on his hands.
“Thank you,” Tanjiro says, and Genya wants to throw up again.
He shouldn’t be thanked for this. He did it to protect Tanjiro, and he did, but—
He can’t accept gratitude. He can’t.
Tanjiro lets out a shuddering breath, the sound hitching at the end, and Genya pulls back in surprise.
Tanjiro is crying, near-silently, and from the look of it, he has been for a while.
He realizes: Tanjiro isn’t any more okay with this than he is. He’s just handling it differently, combusting internally rather than externally.
“We should tell someone,” Tanjiro rasps, and, okay, they’re going to ignore the fact that he’s crying; that’s fine. Genya is just barely holding it together himself; he can hardly attempt to comfort someone else.
“Yeah,” he agrees.
Neither of them moves. To tell someone would mean leaving the bathroom, going into the main room and seeing…the body.
Neither of them is ready for that.
They have to move eventually. They do, and the matter is taken care of as everything is in the castle - quickly, effectively, carefully but ultimately with utilitarianism. The incident is taken seriously, because it signals a security breach, but the guard is adjusted and patrols are increased and that is that. Life moves on.
Officially.
Unofficially is a different story. Unofficially, Tanjiro’s eyes are heavily shadowed, because he can’t quite bring himself to fall asleep until he literally passes out. Unofficially, Genya’s hands are cracked and raw because of how many times he’s washed his hands, trying to scrub away blood that isn’t there.
Unofficially, they cling to each other, because who else will they cling to? They don’t talk about it - neither of them has the words. But Genya treats his hands with moisturizer Tanjiro finds for him, and Tanjiro falls asleep on Genya’s shoulder more often than not.
They manage.
But only because they have each other.
One year and two months after Genya came to live in the castle, the war comes to an end. The opposing kings come to an agreement, and a treaty is officially signed, and it’s over.
The news is announced in the courtyard of the castle by a crier who can barely contain his excitement long enough to get the news out. Shouts of joy rise up from the servants surrounding Genya and Tanjiro; people embrace, kiss, cry, laugh in relief. Someone starts singing.
Tanjiro’s eyes meet Genya’s. Genya’s eyes meet Tanjiro’s.
Genya isn’t quite sure who leans in first, who throws their arms around whose neck and whose hands find whose waist. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is this moment, the prince in his arms, the way their lips meet after months of never talking about the growing spark between them.
And Genya thinks - a little delirious from the news and the fingers in his hair and the kiss, oh god, they’d kissed - that he’s really glad he wound up at the castle after all.