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“I must admit, that man is truly one of a kind… Like a diamond that shines bright even in the safekeeping of royal treasuries.” Her voice was wrapped in drunk and lustful undertones, she regarded herself as the center of attention even in the midst of this party of other high end nobles. “How did the family up North hide such a perfect specimen? To think he just offered himself up to the Emperor here…”
“He carries himself with elegance and poise all the time, every waking moment.” Her lady friend giggled alongside her, as both their eyes pondered for what other treasures that advisor may hide underneath his steadfast, hardy, unrevealing clothes. “Just one night…”
That's all they'd need.
Zahhak had long grown accustomed to this whiplash of treatment, though the irony did not escape him, to think the humans that once threw stones at him and egged him to slit another slave’s throat would now whisper unsanitary invitations his way.
He made them feel safe. The advisor of Theranhad who had brought a halt to the city’s civil war within a week of his arrival, now with a sworn duty to serve the Imperial Palace…
It's already been hundreds of years since he put on this mask, this facade, this burden. The history books mentioned him, stating him an integral part of this place’s culture and history. Filled with words that were not his own, just what he led them to believe were.
Just as his mind began to lead him to darker places, a hand reached for his face.
“Won't you keep me company tonight?”
Her hand was covered in rich accessories, expensive cream and wrinkles to match. He knew who she was, but only in name and her relation to the throne. This was a painstaking side effect of his job, as disposing of her would bring along…
Consequences.
He held a deep breath and braced himself.
Like a starving child, forced to eat his least favorite food.
“Nice ring, if I do say so myself.”
With a tap of the royal staff on the ground, everyone gathered at the table fell silent. The hand that originally had reached for Zahhak's face was now intertwined with one covered in dark tattoos.
“I have one just like it.” Zio spoke, fondling with the noble's ring and pulling it off, ignoring her stuttering protests. “Hmm… Well, not exactly. The ones in my treasury are made of real skystones. This is a cheap imitation, but hardly convincing, did you even notice?”
He dropped the ring on her plate, with her soup splattering on her sleeve. “Who do you think you–” were her last words, but the smirk on the boy Emperor's face was convincing enough to let her know he was fishing for those words.
“It seems you value worthless silver over respect for your own Emperor at an event he graciously extended an invitation to you for…” He tapped his staff twice on the ground and two soldiers walked into the room to his side, making eye contact with Zahhak first who only sighed. “I've seen enough. Remove yourself, and we will all pretend like you were never here in the first place.”
She wasn't given the courtesy of arguing back, that much was clear… What’s more was that her husband was quick on the uptake, and pulled her up by her arm with a red face.
“Before you go, allow me to send you off with one final act.” Zio clapped, and everyone's attention turned towards him, with clear consequences for anyone who dared chatter past this point. “A reminder, to you all, both the ladies who find themselves in awe of my advisor's visual appearance and the men who aspire to be more like him.”
Zio jumped onto the chair that was now vacant, to match Zahhak's height. His eyes were that same deep blue, with an emotion of mute gratitude for his act of interference.
Zio’s fingers danced on his shoulders, pulling him in ever so slightly, inviting him into his emperor's open arms… Zahhak obliged, as was his duty.
The hands that were covered in tattoos caressed his face for all to see, Zio's cold silver wear made of genuine materials brushing against his lips. Zahhak had polished them for him just the night before, he remembered clearly. Now they were closer to him than before.
Zio reached in, his eyes locking in on the only part of Zahhak’s skin that was anything other than the purest of white.
Zahhak's plump red lips, carrying a million and more secrets, and a million more to come, hiding away certain sounds and commands few would even dare to dream in their most liquor invested hours.
How Zio wished to lay it all bare, to show them what true possession could look like, to show them what the truest form of obsession could look like.
Though only a mere few seconds passed, the thrill in his mind made this moment feel akin to hours. He knew he had what it took to truly make it last hours, and he knew he could hold everyone long enough to witness everything his mind could muster.
But his precious crane was faithful enough to deserve better than that. He wasn't ruthless, he was merciful. He was a good Emperor, he would know. Zahhak has said it plenty of times, of his own volition.
“The Immortal advisor serves the Emperor and the Emperor alone, he does not serve the Imperial Palace and all those who are guests to it.. Therefore his services are only offered up to me.” Zio stated, as if reciting a law from his own rulebook. “This goes for any act your decrepit and unmannered minds come up with.”
Zahhak felt the smaller peck on his cheek, intentionally missing his original target. The message Zio was implying before was now distorted and pushed aside as a rebellious act of someone too young granted too much authority.
But he knew.
Zio was… more mature and understanding of the ways of the world than anyone, him included, gave him credit for.
Zio hugged him, wrapping his arms around him and displaying a facade of jealousy. A reliance. Now instilling empathy into everyone's hearts, a question of “If anything were to happen to the Advisor, what would become of His Majesty? What would become of our country? That man is far beyond our reach.”
All that, with one tiny kiss and an innocent hug.
…
Innocent in hindsight only.
The party continued as Zahhak had planned after that. He had served a few tables with food, but was quickly asked by Zio himself to escort him to his chambers.
Restlessness… was the reason.
His wish… was his command.
Zio crossed his arms as the door closed behind him. There was only silence between them. So Zahhak took it upon himself to take off a few of his garbs.
He placed his headpiece neatly onto the chair beside his bed.
He folded his silk sleeves upon itself and placed it on the footrest by his bed.
Zio then raised his hand, pausing his service just as fast.
Now only dressed in shirt and pants, he kicked off his heels, letting himself fall into his bed and resting one leg over the other.
“Kneel.” He said. “I'll say it in advance. Tonight I will not repeat myself.”
He placed his feet in Zahhak's hands as he silently continued helping him change into his sleeping attire. His fingers were reserved, handling his highness with care.
He wasn't made of glass, but his patience was even more fragile now.
“Thank you.” Zahhak mouthed. “...For sparing her life.”
That seemed to soothe him.
“What are you so satisfied with?” Zio glared. “Remember your place, Zahhak.”
Zahhak’s lip curled ever so slightly. It definitely had soothed him. He placed his hands around his waist to take off his shirt, but noticed something.
“I take it you've let yourself go at the party.”
Zio flinched. He was a stress-sweet-eater, and only Zahhak could make fun of it and live to tell the tale. “How would you feel knowing everyone's eyes insist on undressing you at a party I host?”
“...Everyone?” Zahhak raised a brow, failing to make eye contact as Zio was still hiding inside his shirt.
“Don't push it.” Zio ripped off his shirt and threw it at him. “If I really had such a desire, I could force you to do it.”
“Right.” Zahhak swallowed the thought.
Zio clicked his tongue. “...Are you testing me?”
Zahhak absentmindedly folded the shirt and put it on top of the other clothes. “Perish the thought.”
“Zahhak.” Zio called, increasingly getting more annoyed. Increasingly losing his control over his impulses.
“Your Majesty.” Zahhak replied. “How may I be of service to you?”
“...” His fingers clenched into a fist. “Strip.”
Zahhak’s hand rested on Zio’s knee, the command falling on his ear, only to be met with inaction, like had turned into a stone statue. “I'm afraid I can't.”
Zio frowned. “Your upper half would be enough.”
“It would be unsightly.” Zahhak urged him to… reconsider.
“How could something highly sought after be unsightly?” Zio retorted. “Take it off.”
His plan was only to cause slight discomfort, to push his composed servant off balance… To be met with total disobedience was unexpected. From Zahhak, at least.
“...If it is what you desire." He untied pure white trust, letting parts of it fall heavy on the floor. Only the talisman was handled with care.
“Zahhak?” Zio’s eyes darkened, the smugness he had expected to feel now replaced with bloodlust. An anger that was made greater by the dark star.
“My popularity with humans wasn't a birthright, Your Highness.” He explained, his fingers brushing past the scars inflicted on his body, intricately avoiding the one that stuck out quite sorely on his chest.
Zio crossed his arms and closed his eyes, taking steady breaths, reassuring himself in his mind that the ones who could have inflicted these on HIS advisor were from generations long passed.
Their bloodlines likely lost to time.
It almost helped, if not for that giant eyesore.
“This one is newer than the rest.” He said, reaching for it, his touch was curious but protective. “It's not ordinary either. Not a common sword like any I've seen.”
“So it seems.” Zahhak spoke, his lips promising another secret to keep. “I no longer remember who inflicted it. Someone lost to time, no doubt.”
“You will not lie to me, Zahhak.”
“...”
“Withhold the truth if you feel the need, but I will not stand for a lie. Not from you.” He stood up, taking his advisor into an embrace. His demeanor was warm and forgiving. “If anyone ever tries to unveil you… You have my permission to strike them down. Use my name, my title or Theranhad’s future as an excuse and remove them. We'll deal with the consequences together.”
He pressed his face against Zahhak's chest and sighed. He couldn't stop his body from shaking wildly in anger.
“It's unbefitting of an Emperor to show such care for a mere servant.” Zahhak scolded, almost too convincing.
“Silence. You're no servant. You have no free will of your own.” Zio gritted his teeth. “Know your place. You're a belonging, you're an object and you're mine and mine alone.”
Zahhak’s deep breath echoed into a chuckle. “How cruel.”
“I'm serious.”
“That's why it's cruel.” Zahhak tilted Zio’s head upwards and leaned in, meeting those yellow cat-like eyes directly.
His lips would hold yet another secret.
And unlike his boyish Emperor…
He wasn't one to deviate once he had his eyes locked onto his target.
Softness, tenderness and warmth were the only words rampaging through Zio's mind.
Like two birds in a cage with an open door, neither took the initiative to spread their wings and find freedom away from their shared breaths and company.
Zahhak did not close his eyes, he never did in tense situations, to limit one's view was a death sentence he had seen others experience far too often.
Zio on the other hand, his eyes were only half open, relishing every moment, taking a twisted sense of pride in their shared inexperience. Especially since Zahhak initiated this despite that fact.
Zahhak held him by his head, his soft locks sliding through his fingers, every aspect of his appearance he had handcrafted to the utmost.
A total opposite of the roughed up abused village boy he met all those years ago.
His hunger for all things greater… even now.
“You're insatiable.” Zahhak spat out. Their intimacy tore apart, all while Zio seemed all but done. “...Forgive me.”
Zio smirked, his small breaths unable to hide the fact he enjoyed this side of his advisor. “Again. Until I permit you to stop.”
“As you wish.” Zahhak whispered.
“You're smiling.” Zio cupped his face and pulled him closer, until they both laid on his bed. “I've decided you'll never smile like that in the presence of others.”
“Ridiculous… Hmph.” Zahhak nodded, answering with a kiss on his neck. His personal plan, his Emperor, handcrafted to perfection… In the palm of his hands.
And so… it happened.
Again.
Again.
Again.
And again.