Work Text:
"You Were the First" Fictober
“You okay?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“That crown on the floor says otherwise.”
“So I dropped my crown, big whoop.”
“You mean you threw your crown?”
“Noooo, Mr. Look-at-everything-backwards. It fell.”
“There’s a dent—”
“That was there before.”
“Kuzco, it’s okay to not be—”
“But I am okay. Heck, I’m better than okay.”
“I know you’re emperor and you feel the need to be perfect, but everyone, even emperors—”
“Pacha, don’t preach.”
“I’m not preaching, I’m trying to help.”
“Well, you’re not!” His voice was sharp and bitter, sounding nothing like the obnoxious, egotistical emperor he normally was.
“Kuzco, please,” Pacha begged, bending down to pick up the crown. He stood up, brushed it off, and set it aside.
“Please what? WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!” The young emperor snapped, causing poor Pacha to jump.
“I want you to tell me what’s wrong so I can help you.” His voice was gentle, soft, and fatherly—just like him.
“What’s wrong? Heh. You think you can help me?” The younger’s voice was distant and unhinged. “I don’t need some peasant’s he-help…” His words slurred near the end, his voice trailing off.
“Kuzco, you need to just try to relax and sit down.”
“NO! What I need is to be alone!”
“Kuzco, you need help, and I want to help you, but you need to tell me what’s wrong.”
The young emperor didn’t reply. He just staggered backward, falling onto his bed. “Sorry, I don’t know what came over me…” His voice was now small.
“Neither do I. Now, please, for the love of Inti, tell me what’s bothering you.”
“Blood sugar’s just low.”
“That’s okay. Want me to get you a snack?”
“You don’t get it.”
“…care to elaborate?”
“I am emperor. As emperor, I can’t have any flaws—it’s bad for the rep. But not only am I young, scrawny, arrogant, clueless, can’t pay attention to boring things—which is everything—but I also used to throw people out of windows. And I also have a dumb health condition.”
“I can see how that would make you angry.”
“I hate it so much. It messes with my emotions, makes me feel dizzy, and if it gets really bad, it causes seizures… I hate it so, so, so much, Pacha. I’m a royal disgrace.” Tears welled up in his eyes. He looked so lost, and the amount of self-hatred in his eyes made Pacha wonder who he was talking to.
The bigger man walked over and gave the young emperor a tight hug.
“No human is perfect. Not even a descendant of Inti. There isn’t one human on this planet who doesn’t have a flaw,” Pacha said calmly as he held his foster son close.
“How do you always know just what to say?”
“I have three kids and a sassy wife. One wrong move, and I’m a dead man walking,” he said with a chuckle, earning a small laugh from Kuzco. “So, what had you all worked up, anyway?”
“The council went on a yelling spree about how I’m not ‘emperor material,’ so I guess I just lost it.”
“That’s understandable—”
“Is it, though?”
“It is.”
Nobody said a word for a while. Pacha got Kuzco a snack and sat there with his foster son, waiting for his blood sugar to even out.
“So, I was the first person you told about your blood sugar issues?”
“Yup. You were the first.”
“So, you just dealt with it all by yourself for years?”
“Yup.”
“Well, I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me.” To say he was impressed with his foster son would be an understatement, yet no other word came to mind.
“Me too.”