Chapter Text
When Riku was six and Sion was first introduced to the Maeda family, seeing as the Queen was his mother’s best friend, Riku demanded he be thrown out at once. Seeing everyone’s shocked expressions and his mother’s refusal to even acknowledge his wish, Riku burst into tears, loud wails shaking his tiny chest unrestrained and echoing off the tall walls and high ceilings of the royal palace.
This startled Sion, who until then had been watching the small boy in silence, but at the sound of Riku’s loud cries, began matching them with his own.
It was the first time either mother had seen their sons act so unrefined. As a prince, Riku had been taught from a very young age about the importance of composure and grace, and so even when he was upset, he had never dared a tantrum. Sion was equally well-versed in propriety, seeing as he was the son of a viscount.
Upon seeing their reactions, their mothers gave each other a disgruntled look. The Queen was the first to regain her wits, glancing at the servants around them who looked equally disturbed despite their clear attempts to hide it.
It was quickly decided that the boys should be introduced again at a later time, and that any future meetings should be postponed until then.
After that day, whenever Lady Oh’s carriage rolled into the porte-cochère, Riku would stand like a guard by the entrance hall, craning his neck to ensure there was no golden head peeking from behind Lady Oh’s skirts.
Though both ladies would spend most of their visits in the drawing room, there were times when they preferred to settle outdoors. On those days Riku would join them, running rampant while the ladies talked. When he finally grew tired, he’d curl up in his mother’s lap, looking up at her while her fingers carded through his hair as she talked. Inevitably, the blond boy would come up in conversation. Naturally. He was Lady Oh’s son, after all.
Riku, ever observant, would catch the wistful look his mother would turn his way whenever Lady Oh spoke about her son. His little heart would lurch in his chest at the thought of his mother being sad, especially if he was the reason.
After a week of this, he could bear it no longer, and while his mother was tucking him to bed, he stopped her and asked, in a carefully disinterested tone lest she misunderstand: “When will Lady Oh’s son come again?”
His mother paused. She looked at him, her eyes going back and forth between his own, clearly taken aback.
Riku raised his chin pretentiously. “My schedule is free this Friday afternoon, if my music mistress dismisses me early.”
His mother stared. Then she turned her face away, the back of her hand pressed against her cheek as though to hide her expression. Riku frowned at the suspicious tremor of her shoulders.
“I can free another day, if there is a problem,” he said, hoping she knew he was serious.
His mother threw her head back, her hand falling away, and started openly laughing. Riku watched as she got up, pressed a giggle against his forehead, then walked away without a word other than “I love you”, leaving Riku to wonder if his words had been taken seriously at all.
He got his answer two days later, when the chime of Lady Oh’s carriage echoed through the open doors of the entrance hall.
As always, Riku descended the stairs, his little shoulders rigid as he waited at the landing. It didn’t take long for him to notice that dreadful blond head.
Despite his best efforts, his countenance still changed for the worse, his eyebrows and eyelids drooping in annoyance.
“Riku,” his mother murmured from beside him, her gaze fixed on the open doorway. “Be good.”
At that, Riku’s lips pursed into a little beak, upset that his mother would not trust him to remain composed. That she would think him capable of behaving otherwise was an insult. Noticing his displeasure, his mother tugged at his hand with her own, and gave a gentle smile when their eyes met, smoothing the edge of his pride.
As Lady Oh and her son— who upon a very long, stubborn, roundabout conversation with his mother he came to learn was named Sion— made their way to them, his grip on his mother’s fingers tightened.
Sion looked mostly calm and collected, and this did nothing to alleviate Riku’s upset. Moreso because the boy appeared to not want to make eye contact with him.
Their mothers greeted one another first. Then the Queen turned to address Sion, and it was the first time the boy’s poise hiccuped. His shoulders stiffed before they bent into a formal bow.
“Your Majesty…”
The Queen laughed softly, reaching down to lift his chin with a gentle hand under his jaw. “You may call me by name, darling. Say it— Yoshiko.”
Sion frowned. His head gave a small, aborted shake before he caught himself, and his cheeks bloomed red as he realised that to refuse the Queen would be disrespectful. Riku watched the flush deepen under his mother’s fond gaze and felt a faint, inexplicable tug in his chest.
Then Lady Oh nudged Sion forward, and he turned to Riku, his cheeks still bunched beneath his mother’s hand until she finally let him go.
Riku’s heart lurched unpleasantly when he saw the boy preparing to bow. In a rush of panic, he grabbed Sion by the wrist and dragged him toward the gardens. When he noticed both mothers following them, he threw a pout over his shoulder. Did they think he was going to cause a scene?
Again?
He wasn’t.
Dragging Sion by the hand, he tried his best to ignore the presence of both ladies as they drank tea. He hated the idea that he was being watched, as if he was putting on a show for his mother; though that wasn’t entirely untrue, seeing as the reason why he even suggested giving this meeting a chance was to get rid of his mother’s sad expression.
As embarrassing and irritating, Riku had set himself up for this, and he was not going to fail.
He dragged Sion until they reached a shrub far enough from the table where their mothers usually settled in, and tall enough to shield their tiny frames from prying eyes. Riku rose on his tippy toes and craned his neck to make sure they weren’t being watched anymore, then fell back on his heels and turned to Sion.
With no preamble whatsoever, he crossed his arms and spat,
“You will not marry my sister.”
The boy took a step back. “What?”
“I know that’s why they brought you here that first night,” Riku said with conviction. “I will not allow it.”
“I am eight years old,” the boy replied, flatly.
Riku groaned.
“Don’t act dumb!” He watched as the boy’s eyes dropped to where his tiny foot was stomping the grass in emphasis. “My eldest sister was introduced to her spouse when she was twelve! They made them best friends, and then they forced them to marry when they grew older!”
“You take that back!” Sion nearly screamed, now crossing his arms as well. “That’s my cousin you’re talking about! She married my cousin! And they were not forced--- they were best friends as children, and then they fell in love!”
If Riku were undignified, he’d have let out a screech in frustration at the boy’s stubbornness. But again he remembered his mother’s warning glance and, not wanting to disappoint her but also wanting to stand his ground, he repeated:
“You will not marry my sister.”
“And you will take back what you said about my cousin!”
“I didn’t say anything about him!”
“Yes you did!” the boy insisted, his cheeks taking that ruddy colour once again. “You implied his love is not real!”
“I didn’t say that!” Riku screeched.
But then Sion huffed and turned on his heel. Riku panicked and grabbed his hand before he could make it out of the shrub and be seen.
“Okay! Okay!” He let go of Sion’s hand and stood straighter. “I apologise for disrespecting your cousin. I will not do it again.”
Sion’s cheeks were still red, and his little chest was heaving in anger. At the sight, Riku started feeling bad.
“I’m really sorry,” Riku said again, quieter this time and clearly ashamed. “Now please tell me you won’t marry my sister.”
“I am eight years old,” Sion repeated. But then he saw the wet sheen taking over Riku’s eyes, and conceded, sighing as if tired. “I will not marry your sister!”
“Okay,” Riku said, nodding in approval.
“Okay!” echoed Sion, as if needing to have the final word, before pushing past Riku to step out of the shrub.
With the fear of losing his sister gone, Riku felt something inside his chest loosen, and accepting the boy’s presence no longer seemed as hard a prospect.
For a while they just wandered the gardens in silence, with Riku trailing a few steps behind Sion. He couldn’t help but notice how the boy’s golden head shone brighter among the flowers, glinting like his mother’s silks. Whenever Sion stopped to look at them, his lashes would sweep in a fluttering dark line, casting delicate shadows on his cheeks.
Riku began to feel like a shadow himself, unacknowledged. The boy’s gentle look for the flowers only made the lack of one for him sting even more.
When Riku called for battledore bats and shuttlecocks for a game, he was nearly afraid Sion would ignore it altogether. But Sion dutifully received one of the bats, and Riku almost allowed a relieved smile at this before he saw Sion take a shuttlecock for himself.
“I already grabbed one,” Riku said, holding the feathered cork in proof, already feeling his mouth pursing into a little beak once more.
Sion didn’t look at him as he said, “but I want to play alone.”
Riku stood there, stunned into silence, for what felt like hours. It was likely only a few seconds. He watched Sion’s back as the boy searched for a clear space to play.
Usually, when other children his age would be invited to the palace, especially the rowdy girls and boys who wanted to show off when being in the presence of royalty, Riku would enjoy solitary play. He’d keep the shuttlecock off the ground for as long as he could and even count out loud the number of times his feathered cork would hit the gut strings. He’d rejoice as the eager look of competition would slowly melt off the other children’s faces. It made it easy for him to find out which children truly wished to play with him, and which only wished to impress.
Riku never imagined himself to be on the receiving end of such treatment.
Worse still, Sion gave no indication that Riku’s presence mattered to him at all. He batted the shuttlecock silently, keeping it from landing without a single number coming out of his mouth. After several long minutes of waiting for those eyes to turn toward him, Riku gave up. He didn’t even care that his number was higher than Sion’s. (Because yes, hewas counting.)
He sat beneath a tree, trying to calm his heart from hurting at the feeling of being ignored.
The blue was already scattered away from the sky by the time Lady Oh called out for Sion. Riku pushed himself up, his bottom sore from sitting for so long, and brushed the grass from his trousers so as to take longer, to avoid walking side by side with Sion.
He was frustrated because he knew he couldn’t hide his upset, and grew even more frustrated when his mother tapped on his pout teasingly. He nearly swapped her finger away, feeling his whole face grow hotter.
Bidding Lady Oh and her son a curt farewell, he retreated to his room, closing the door with all the finality his small frame could muster.
Still, his mother never went to bed without tucking him in. When she entered his room later that night, her hair loose and free from the elaborate styles she wore in public, she found him already curled beneath the blankets.
Riku flushed when she began to smooth the mess he’d made of his bed in an attempt to get comfortable, sheets twisted and pillows disheveled. But at his mother’s gentle rearranging, warmth rose in him for reasons beyond embarrassment, feeling safe and loved after a day of constant rejection.
Once done, his mother knelt beside him, her eyes fond and patient.
“Are you angry at me?” she asked softly, drawing the coverlet to his chin.
“I am not angry,” he replied at once, aware that he sounded sulky.
As if to soothe him, his mother said, “You looked very much like your father this afternoon.”
Riku frowned. “Father is composed.”
Her lips curved. “Yes. But he also does not enjoy being ignored.”
Riku felt his waterline grow wet. And as he spoke, he felt the sides of his mouth drooping despite his best efforts to hold them firm.
“He doesn’t want to be my friend.”
“You do not know that,” she said, kissing away the beginnings of a frown. “You simply started off poorly. Keep trying, and I am sure Sionie will not be able to resist your sincerity.”
She looked at him as if waiting for a response, but when he gave her none, she declared, “I’ll let Hyojeong know not to bring him—”
Riku’s head shot up at that. At his mother’s knowing look, he dropped his gaze once more.
“I do not want you to be uncomfortable, darling.” She stroked his cheek before rising. “I am sorry that today left you sad. Tomorrow we will do something cheerful instead, hm? I hear a new confectioner’s shop has opened; we shall try it.”
Riku smiled, appeased. But as she reached the door, he called after her.
“Don’t…” he began, then hesitated. Then, more quietly, “Don’t tell Lady Oh anything. I don’t… mind his presence.”
His mother smiled.
“If you wish it so.”
━━━━
Riku was almost afraid his mother might tell Lady Oh to come alone next time, despite his protests. She valued his happiness above all else, afterall, and she always shielded him from whatever might disturb it.
Still, when the day of Lady Oh’s next visit came, Riku dutifully made his way down to the stair landing, expectant. Except this time his heart’s wish was altered.
His little pudgy hands grew damp and trembled the moment he caught sight of that bright golden head.
That night, Riku went to bed much as he had the last time spent in Sion’s presence, but he tried to hide it from his mother lest she speak of it to Lady Oh. Yet she seemed to know all the same, smiling indulgently if a bit sadly as she tucked him in, her kisses brushing the wrinkle between his brows and, with this, smoothing the wrinkles rejection left in his little heart.
So it continued with each visit. His hands would always sweat and tremble in anticipation of Sion’s arrival, but once the boy stood before him, it was his heart that quivered instead, restless with the unfulfilled wish of friendship. Sion was invariably polite, which robbed Riku of the comfort to complain about any lack of respect. Never before had a well-mannered child so thoroughly unsettled him.
It took a long time to see his vexation for what it was— not mere irritation, but something closer, sharper. A yearning lodged at the center of his heart.
It made him all the more indignant, to think such a boy should matter to him. He had no shortage of children who begged for his friendship. Why should he long for this one?
But then he’d watch the gentleness of Sion’s hand on his mother’s flowers, his quiet persistence in chasing his own score at battledore and shuttlecock (still uncaring of Riku’s, much to Riku’s indignation), or the glee that lit his face when he first discovered the palace dogs, Puppee and Pupper.
That last one was the most unbearable.
It was one thing to lose Sion’s affections to inanimate objects. To see it lavished upon that which could make him coo, and run, and caress with care, was even worse.
Again Riku was left dangling at the end of such a string, unaccustomed to the feeling. It was usually his attention that was sought after. Now, with Sion seemingly unmoved by him, Riku felt as though the mistake he had made at their first meeting had messed up things beyond repair, and it left Riku’s throat hurting much the same as it did when the attendants would bound his collar too tightly around his neck when dressing him.
Yet even in hurt, Riku did not allow himself to be swayed. Despite his young age, he was steadfast when he set his mind to something. He would find any way to prove his apology had been sincere. To win Sion’s regard.
They often spent their time outdoors, and during these times Riku made sure to ask for only the delivery of one shuttlecock when calling for battledore equipment. He ignored Sion’s questioning stare when he let him know they had a shuttlecock shortage.
“Puppee ate the rest,” Riku explained gravely, taking his stance to start playing with the other boy.
Other days they would accompany their mothers to the drawing room, where Riku would pretend to uninterestingly sit by his harp, even as his cheeks warmed whenever Sion sat before him to listen. At times, when their mothers weren’t looking, Sion would settle cross-legged on the carpet instead, and Riku’s heart filled at the thought that he might feel comfortable enough to do such impropriety in his company.
Even so, that was the furthest Sion’s attention ever strayed toward him. Their progress never seemed to move beyond such small mercies. And in the made up stories Riku told himself, where strangers would ask Sion whether Riku was his friend, he could not say with confidence that Sion would answer yes.
As the days wore on, his determination began to wane.
━━━━
It was in one such bout of misery that Riku found himself distracted on the day when everything changed.
He had grown used to going to bed with that downturn of his lips, a look his mother now recognised so well. Yet she no longer suggested ending Sion’s visits, knowing he would protest, and knowing that the boy’s absence would only hurt him further.
Despite Riku’s efforts at impressing him, Sion showed only the faintest interest. In most cases, Riku was sure he was only being polite. The grudge of their first meeting was gone, and forgiveness had been given, but there was little warmth beyond civility. To one accustomed to being loved loudly, the question of whether he was liked at all by the very person he’d come to like the most stung cruelly.
That afternoon, Riku had been turning the question over and over in his head. Why did Sion not yield to his charms? Would he ever want to be his friend? All this he thought of while watching Sion play with Pupper— while Puppee, a little more reserved, slept beneath his mother’s skirts. The dog and boy ran in joyful circles together, and Riku’s heart twisted at how a dog could win such affection from the boy, when he, another child, could not.
So heavy did these thoughts weigh on his head that he didn’t see Pupper change course, charging towards him. Everything seemed to have happened too fast for the lethargic ways his brain had adapted under such tiring thoughts. Only when a warm, solid weight struck him did he realise he was getting hit, and by then he was already tumbling. He fell on Pupper, who gave a painful howl beneath him before running away in fear. Then Riku was on the ground, disoriented with a distinct throbbing on his palms and knees where he had landed harshly on them.
Riku blinked at the sting of his skin against the stone. He looked up, dazed and scared at what just happened, and found Sion staring… though not at him, but at the frightened dog darting way. His eyes immediately filled with tears.
Even now, when he was hurt, Sion would surely run after Pupper instead. The thought of being left on the ground, forgotten, made him feel so very small and insignificant. His little heart braced for shatter.
He dropped his gaze. At the sound of a rustle near him, he shut his eyes tight, unwilling to see Sion’s retreating back.
That was why he let out a loud yelp when he felt hands enclosing his shoulders, then reaching over to his cheeks, upon which he opened his eyes and saw Sion very close to him, kneeling in front of him and clearly worried. Riku started openly crying.
Distressed, Sion kept asking what was wrong, where it hurt, and at the heightening sound of Riku’s cries he got even more nervous, his eyes large with worry at the possibility of Riku having hurt himself too badly. Riku felt nothing more compelling than throwing his arms around Sion, even where his palms stung, crying into his shoulder.
“Shh, it’s okay,” Sion said, awkwardly clapping him on the back.
He heard the hurried scuffles of feet, then the distinct sound of his mother’s voice calling out.
“My darling! What is the matter here!” her voice drew closer, as if coming towards him. “Let me check you out.”
But Riku only tightened his arms around Sion, still crying into his neck.
They had to wait several minutes to check how badly he got hurt, for him to detangle himself from Sion. Even then, he refused to let go of Sion, grasping his hand while salve was put on his hands and knees.
It was only when his cries died down to mere sniffles that he got a sense of deja vu: their first meeting, when his loud cries startled Sion into tears.
He immediately swallowed his next sniffle, ashamed. In the past weeks observing Sion, he had noticed how the boy hated commotion of any kind, how he’d get overwhelmed when things seemed too intense. There was one time he had pricked himself while touching a rose, and Riku hadn’t even realised Sion was crying from the pain until he came back from a bathroom break to find Sion gone, and his mother informed him the reason.
The happiness he had felt at finally getting affection from the other boy shrivelled up, sure that his earlier outburst had made Sion uncomfortable. How could he expect the boy to even like him? His little head started replaying memories from the past weeks; his dramatic nature around Sion hadn’t ceased upon their first meeting. It continued when he refused to direct a word at him until it was to tell him not to marry his sister, when he loudly accused his cousin from being put in a marriage with his sister forcibly, even in the privacy of his mind where he miserably kept his count during battledore trying to outbest Sion, when Sion had not given him any reason for such bitterness. Even outside the bitterness, the ways he demanded Sion’s attention, even if indirectly, were dramatic themselves. So how could he expect Sion to even want to be his friend?
He slowly detangled his hand from Sion’s, excusing himself when he felt a new round of tears accumulating in his eyes. He went inside, moving into the drawing room and hiding behind one of the big chairs so no one could see him cry. It felt like hours that he sat there, trying to sniffle quietly, and when he heard the door open, he expected his mother to come to ask him what was wrong.
Instead it was a pudgy hand much like his that came into view, offering a plate of biscuits.
“I’m sorry I took long,” Sion said, like he owed any explanation. “I had to check on Pupper, he was very scared. I pet him ‘til his tail started wagging.”
Riku glared at the wall at that, angrily munching on a biscuit. Sion, misunderstanding, was quick to exclaim, “But I washed my hands for the biscuits!”
Riku directed his glare at him for not understanding, then felt bad when Sion seemed to start sweating.
“Thank you…” Riku said it quietly, his mouth half-hidden behind his knees where his chin rested, but he knew Sion heard him all the same, because the boy smiled softly then reached for a biscuit of his own.
That Sion had gone after him, even after Riku had cried and hidden himself away, could only mean that he did not find Riku’s tears troublesome. Otherwise, he would surely not have risked being met with more of them… Something warm settled in Riku’s chest at the thought, and became warmer still when Sion stayed to make sure he had stopped crying.
Did that mean Sion cared for him?
From that day, Riku decided he must find out.
Whenever he practised at the harp, he would suddenly take his fingers off the strings with a hiss of pain, and glance up at Sion from beneath his lashes. He would hold out his reddened fingertips for inspection, shoving his palm up to Sion and waiting to see what he’d do. Sion would take them gently in his own hands and rub them, and Riku would hide his smile every time he looked up, saying it still hurt.
The next time Sion played with Pupper, Riku insisted that he hold his hand while they ran, so he would not feel left out. He soon learned that running hand in hand while a dog chased them was neither efficient nor easy, and gave up on the idea rather quickly. It didn’t matter anyway. What mattered was that Sion had agreed to it at all, clearly showing he liked Riku’s presence.
And it was true, Riku finally came to realise: Sion did like him.
That little fact made everything in Riku’s life so much easier.
Riku’s mother could hardly hide her smile whenever he grew restless while waiting for the Oh’s to arrive. She would stifle a laugh each time she tucked him into bed after Sion’s every visit, teasing him about his cheeks glowing brighter than the lamp beside him.
It seemed that day had unlocked something within Riku. He now felt he had every right to seek Sion’s attention, demand it even, though he did so with a gentleness he had lacked before. And it must have unlocked something in Sion as well, because the boy’s manner softened; where he had once displayed a jagged distance, he now showed a quiet, soft affection that had not been there before.
Later, when they were older, they would come to understand what that moment had taught them about each other. That Riku wished to be cherished and for Sion to show it openly; and Sion wished, in turn, to be wanted— to know that Riku would always appreciate his company and his tears would never again fall at the thought of spending time with Sion. Even at such a young lettuce age, their pride had been bruised by those first uneasy meetings.
But even then, they didn’t quite need to understand the reason behind this change with their little brains. The change itself was enough.
━━━━
As the years went by, comfort settled naturally between them. Riku’s demands for Sion’s attention grew wilder with time, and Sion’s patience stretched to meet them, most eager to indulge him.
Once, when Sion’s family left for a couple of weeks to visit his ailing grandfather, Riku spent the days in heavy gloom. His mother and the servants tried every distraction to lift his spirits, but nothing seemed to assuage the weight of his sadness. When Sion returned and heard of it, he frowned in mild irritation.
“Just give him biscuits when he’s sad,” he said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, with a tone as if indignant that they wouldn’t know of this.
But the thing was, they did know of this, especially Riku’s mother; she had called for his favourite biscuits every day, but Riku had refused to eat them.
Upon hearing Sion’s disgruntled explanation, she turned to her son with an incredulous look that said, Really?
Riku’s cheeks burned upon being found out— that biscuits only helped when they came from his best friend’s hand.
━━━━
By the time his sisters learned of Sion, it was only because the boy’s presence in Riku’s life had become impossible to miss. Riku had many acquaintances, as befitted a prince, but rarely did their company leave any real mark upon him. With Sion, it was different.
The first time they spent an afternoon with Riku’s sisters in the drawing room, Sion teased him mercilessly, asking if Riku still feared he might steal any of them away.
Riku glared, annoyed, and a new discomfort crept in, making his throat tighten. It registered to him that he no longer feared Sion would steal his sisters— now he was afraid that his sisters might steal him.
It didn’t take long for this to be discovered by his sisters as well.
By then, Riku was twelve, and for some reason it was at such an age when his sisters’ teasing made him more bashful than when his mother had done it years ago.
The worst of them was the one closest to him in age. Sometimes Riku wished she had never returned from their aunt’s estate, where she’d been sent, as was customary, to spend her girlhood away from the city’s restlessness and disease. But clearly his aunt had failed to instill any real sense of decency, for his sister teased both him and Sion with reckless ease, despite it being of Riku’s humble belief that she was not close enough to Sion to joke in that manner.
But it wasn’t only her; all of his sisters, now back in the palace save for the married ones, took delight in his discomfort. They teased him about his new development, where Riku would demand Sion kiss him on the cheeks. When their laughter wasn’t enough, they took to teasing him about his future courtships, and lastly, marriage.
“What will you do,” one asked on the verge of tears, “when you must marry and go on your honeymoon? Will you manage a fortnight without seeing Sion?”
Riku, with an uneasy feeling in his tummy, asked, “Sionie wouldn’t go?”
“That’s Sionie hyung,” his sister chastised. “And no, he wouldn’t. That time belongs to your spouse and you alone.”
She went on to list all the things he would no longer be allowed to do, and to each one, Riku would only ask “Why?” while wringing his little fingers in his lap. Then she’d be the one chastised when Riku rose silently and crossed the room to press his face against his mother’s chest, weeping silently into her gown.
They’d joke about Riku holding Sion’s hand even at his own wedding, and Riku, still too young to understand, could not fathom why he wouldn’t be allowed to.
Perhaps that was why, years later, when Sion reached the age to begin courting, a quiet terror began to stir within Riku’s heart at the thought of their friendship changing. He could not fathom no longer feeling Sion’s soft lips against his cheeks, or of losing the place he held as the most precious person in Sion’s life.
This fear presented itself most sharply when his sister was set to make her debut into the marriage market. Because his sister apparently also lacked the restraint to be normal, she refused the traditional introduction of a gentleman by acquaintances. Instead, she insisted her suitors must first present themselves through letters if they wanted their intentions to be considered. Riku thought it was ridiculous, and he had no qualms about making that opinion well known. But as it was her debut and not his; his judgement went ignored.
The letters were to be delivered within a strict time frame; any that arrived after the appointed date would not be considered. Riku’s unease only grew as the days passed, and soon his anxiety took form in small, desperate schemes.
He could not bear the thought of Sion sending one of those letters, unease swirling in the back of his throat whenever he imagined Sion’s name appearing among those who sought his sister’s hand. And so he occupied him by every means possible, drawing him away from desks and paper and sealing wax under any pretext he could think of.
He told himself it was only to avoid the trouble of any conflict of relations that was sure to come if Sion were to date any of his sisters. The thought alone made him want to sick up.
On the final night before the deadline, Riku sat awake by the stairs of the entrance hall, the candlelight long guttered to a thin, wavering flame. Every so often, a footman would appear bearing a sealed letter, and each time Riku demanded to see it before it was handed off, fraught eyes scanning every sender’s name.
There was no “Oh Sion”.
He stayed there until the last of the letters arrived, until even the servants began exchanging weary glances. By morning, his eyelids were heavy, the left one twitching no matter how much he tapped on it to cease its jolting. They gathered for tea in the drawing room, and his sisters immediately descended upon him with merciless laughter, pointing at his eyebags and hollow stare. It would’ve upset Riku more if they hadn’t accompanied it by dragging him to the sofa, to their laps, and feeding him caramels.
As if bored, one of them remarked airily,
“I wonder who else will send a letter today. You did extend the deadline until noon, didn’t you?”
Riku froze. His heart lurched.
When his sister nodded, confirming it, he felt the back of his neck grow clammy. Without a word, he rose from their legs and left the room, ignoring their calls after him. He did his utmost to appear composed before the servants, the driver, and even his chaperon, but the moment he was in front of Sion, he lost all composure.
He caught his friend by the wrist and, to Sion’s bewilderment, dragged him wordlessly through the corridors toward his bedchamber. It was only once the door was shut and locked that Riku turned, eyes large and wild from exhaustion and, he’d admit, desperation. He knew he must look demented. But he didn’t care, there was no time— he was sleep deprived, so what came out of his mouth in a rush probably only made him look even more mad:
“Will you be courting my sister?”
Sion only stared at him, confused. When it registered, his eyes drooped a little, unimpressed.
“Riku,” he said slowly, and Riku had a faint intuition that he was getting scolded. “Don’t tell me this is a repeat of our childhood. We’re a little too old for that now, aren’t we?”
Riku snapped. “I’m not joking!” his voice cracked a little, and he turned to hide his hot, flushed face. “Just— just tell me. Will you? Marry her?”
Sion made no comment on Riku’s insane assumptions; for one, even if he did send a letter, that didn’t automatically mean Riku’s sister would accept it. But Riku could not imagine a world where Oh Sion would ever be rejected, so the thought of Sion writing such a letter already had his mind littered with images of chapels, wedding music, white gowns…
But Sion, who always noticed him, must have seen the trembling of his shoulders, the way his hand still lingered on the lock as though barring escape.
Then, with a quiet sigh, he closed the small space between them and gently urged Riku to sit, trying to calm him down by calling for biscuits and tea, but it was only when he affirmed his disinterest that Riku finally began to calm down.
“I’m not interested in that,” Sion said simply.
By the time Riku returned home, his swollen eyes betraying his lack of sleep, his sisters only sighed, exchanging long-suffering looks. They didn’t even ask what he’d been up to. Riku wasn’t ashamed; for years they had been blaming Sion for the entitled and spoiled streak in their youngest brother. This was, to them, merely further proof.
That night, as Riku lay in bed, the comfort of Sion’s words began to shift into something quieter, sadder. Not interested in that, he had said.
Would Sion really be happy that way?
It doesn’t matter, he told himself finally, pulling the covers to his chin. He’d make Sion happy in other ways.
━━━━
It became a relatively irrelevant fact in their lives, until marriage became the centre of Riku’s. One day he was seeing off his sisters to their husbands; the next, he was the one being prepared for courting.
Riku was a special case. Unlike many princes and princesses before him, he did not dread the idea of marriage. Despite his childhood fear that marriage would snatch his sisters away from him, the truth was that he had always loved the notion of belonging to someone like that, of someone belonging to him, of having such an intimate relationship of trust and constant love.
Still, he was only human. And as the days drew closer, anxiety caught up to him. It began as an unusual tremor in his leg whenever his parents mentioned which suitor was coming from where, and when he was expected to meet them. Before long, those nerves grew into something wilder, fiercer, full-blown panic.
Despite having heard of such things from his sisters, his mother, and essentially every royalty romance story to ever be whispered among the ton, Riku never imagined that fant nervousness would ever grow into overpowering his desire for love. Distantly, he wondered if that was why Sion had always dismissed the idea of marriage. Was it fear? He couldn’t imagine Sion being disturbed by such notions.
It was during one such bout of panic that the matter returned to them again— that old, half-forgotten fact of Sion’s.
He had been sitting in the drawing room with Sion mere minutes ago when the tremors started, his fingers beginning to shake, so that he abruptly stood up and left for his room. Naturally, Sion followed.
Sion sat upon the edge of his bed while Riku paced before him, restless like a caged animal.
By then it had been a week since the tremors started, and that was only when his parents had just mentioned the upcoming schedule for the official suitors’ arrivals. Now the first meeting with a suitor was in two days, and his nerves had grown into a relentless storm.
“Riku,” Sion said at least, his wide eyes following him in worry, not daring to depart from upon Riku’s moving body. “What’s wrong?”
When Riku said nothing, his breathing growing uneven, something inside Sion seemed to sharpen, and he stood up to grasp Riku’s shoulders. “You’re not being forced, are you—”
That snapped Riku out of it. “No!” Then, quieter, “I just…”
He struggled for words, wanting so badly to explain, but not yet understanding his own feelings despite how much he wanted to share them with Sion. The one person who always understood him.
“I just want them to like me.”
Sion looked at him, looking a little out of it. Then he gave a quiet, startled laugh.
Riku’s eyes flashed.
“Don’t laugh at me!” He pushed Sion’s hands off, his voice trembling with hurt. For the first time in his life since their first meeting thirteen years ago, he felt genuinely upset with him. “Just because you don’t care about marriage, it doesn’t mean you get to make fun of me.”
The laughter died instantly, smile dropping quickly from Sion’s face. The look of heartbreak he sent Riku made something inside him shrivel up with regret.
“Riku…” he said quietly, his eyes searching his friend’s face a little desperate and off-kilter. His gaze suddenly fell to the floor as he took a step back. Instinctually, Riku took a step forward, as if pulled by a string. “That’s not why I laughed, I— I would never make fun of you,” his voice cracked. “Knowing you weren’t being forced… I was just relieved.”
For some reason that made something clench painfully in Riku’s chest. His current predicament only made him even more prone to mood swings, he knew, but he couldn’t help turning away and walking toward the sofa in the corner of his room.
Usually, he’d leave a space open for Sion to lie behind him. This time he curled in the center, occupying every inch as if to bar entry.
He heard hesitant steps approach then pause. The cushion at the foot of the sofa dipped slightly as Sion sat down on the ground.
There was silence before Sion spoke slowly.
“I’m sorry,” came the halted apology, like Sion was uncertain about what it was he was apologising for. But his next words were clear with intention. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
It was an iron fist around Riku’s heart, making him feel like the worst scum on Earth, knowing he had hurt Sion, that his lash out had been meant to wound in what he thought was retaliation, when in truth it was only his own tangled thoughts fabricating intentions that were never Sion’s. And yet, it was Sion who was apologising.
It undid Riku completely.
He sat up quickly, throwing himself into Sion’s arms, already burying his face in his neck. Sion, dependable as always, didn’t even flinch as Riku’s full weight collided with him.
“I’m sorry,” Riku gasped, gripping at his jacket until the fabric creased between his fists.
Sion’s arm came around him, a steady hand splayed across his lower back. When the first sobs broke through, he began to stroke low, soothing lines up and down his spine. It was a testament to his hurt that he was unable to provide any words of comfort right away; he tried to speak once, but his voice cracked. Riku cried even harder.
“I’m so sorry,” Riku babbled. “I’m just, so overwhelmed. And I know it’s making me mean, I hate it. I hate hurting you. I’m sorry.”
His words dissolved into wet sounds of snot and tears against Sion’s shoulder. Anyone else, and he would have been mortified. He wouldn’t even let someone else be this close to him as he broke down.
But with Sion, he only pressed his head closer, rubbing his damp face against the warm skin at Sion’s neck, where his scent was the strongest. He let Sion’s scent and the rhythm of his hand calm him, eyes closed and body completely settled in Sion’s lap, as his panic ebbed away until all that remained was the quiet thrum of his heartbeat against Sion’s chest and his frankly embarrassing choked breaths.
“Tell you what,” Sion’s voice came low and careful against his ear. “I know what’ll cheer you up.”
The dislike Riku’d had as a child towards other children’s desperate calls for his attention (that had driven him indoors more often than not) had slowly faded as he grew older. He came to love venturing into town, speaking with the people, visiting neglected corners and, most of all, discovering places that almost no one went to. In such spots, he could move through the world outside his palace without being swarmed by admirers. It was because of this that he came to find his favourite shop.
Usually, the reverence that commonfolk naturally felt for royalty was enough to keep them from causing a scene. But there were always exceptions, the occasional moments when someone, too overcome by excitement, would venture too close to Riku. This would make Sion tense up in defence. He was always the first to notice the shift in tension that spread to the royal guards as well, and knew that the young ladies and gentlemen fawning over Riku would likely be plummeted to the ground if they continued invading his space.
So Sion would step aside, drawing the attention of the ladies and gentleman alike, who were also very much infatuated by his looks even if he wasn’t royalty. He was still the son of a viscount, after all, and the heir at that. His easy charm would effectively pull the crowd away from Riku, protecting him and the people alike, because then the guards did not need to raise hell to protect the prince.
Riku, however, hated it. The few admirers who were brave or foolish enough to remain soon found it impossible to capture his attention, as his gaze would be fixed on the blond figure standing at a distance, surrounded by— vultures, Riku thought.
There was one time he could stand it no longer. In the middle of a gentlemen’s long winded speech, Riku abruptly excused himself and strode straight toward Sion, uncaring of whether it was disrespectful. Without a word, he took Sion’s hand and dragged him away.
He walked quickly, far enough that at such a long distance, people petered out as if inside a bottleneck the longer it went, until they reached the point where it would be undeniably unbecoming for someone to follow them to. By the time they stopped, they were both breathless, their chests rising and falling in tandem. They wandered further still, seeking refreshment, and before long found themselves at the edge of town, where the cobblestones gave way to soil in welcome of the forest.
There, as if camouflaged, stood what appeared to be a tavern.
As they approached, Sion’s eyes brightened with recognition.
“Oh!” he said, giddy. “I’ve heard of this place! People say the lady here is a witch…”
“Ridiciulous,” Riku replied, even though it was clear the idea excited him. “No wonder no one comes here. It looks abandoned.”
And so the little shop became their secret refuge, both drawn not only by its strange, almost magical air, but by the quiet; it was the only place outside the palace or the Oh manor where they could truly relax.
It was as if the people who frequented the shop were also trying to get away from the frenzy of the town, as no one had yet decided to tattle about their visits. Or maybe someone had snitched on them, but people still didn’t dare come this far. Sion had been right: the shop’s eerie charm had earned it a reputation, and many truly believed the shopkeeper to be a witch,
Riku laughed at the idea. The “lady,” if one could call her that, looked far too young to be the mistress of such a dark, cluttered shop. She looked very young indeed; in his head, Riku referred to her as “the girl.” Though that also had to do with the fact that the one time he called her “lady” aloud, she had refused to serve them until he’d corrected himself.
Anyway, Riku thanked her weird nature, as it was thanks to this that a prince like him could hang out in such a place.
And, well. The fact that the place looked every bit like those taverns old good-for-nothing men would frequent did contribute to the avoidance. Riku couldn’t begin to count the amount of times someone new would come looking for a beer, and got kicked out the moment they suggested buying such a thing from the young lad— the girl.
It was still an insane notion to Riku. The only odd things about her were her “experimental” desserts and the curious situations her shop sometimes found itself in. Like today.
They had ordered two different sweets, both perfectly normal in appearance. But when they were put on the table, only one spoon came between them.
Sion frowned, then shot the shopkeeper a pointed look. “Excuse me,” he called, “may we have another spoon?”
But she was already walking away. “Sorry!” she sang over her shoulder. “We’re out of spoons! Terrible shortage— it’s affecting everyone!”
Sion stared at her retreating back, incredulous. Riku, who’d grown to be the epitome of a worried, diplomatic prince, exclaimed, “Really!” He was half-rising in his seat. “Should I tell papa about this?
Sion shook his head with a sigh, muttering under his breath, “Little conniving…” and, with an air of resignation, took his favourite dessert — a shaved ice shaped like a bunny — and passed the spoon to Riku. “You can have it.”
“Of course I can,” Riku said, taking a bite of his own creamy ice. Then he grabbed a spoonful of Sion’s and stuck it in Sion’s mouth. “And you can, too.”
He heard a giggle from behind the bar counter (the place really did look like a tavern) and found that the girl was already seemingly working on other orders. She kept throwing glances at them, as she was wont to whenever they visited.
A few bites in, and he was already feeling the dessert sweetening his countenance. The spoon kept passing periodically between the two of them, and with his other hand Riku held Sion’s. Finally, he went back to the topic of his upcoming suitor meeting.
“I don’t even know why I’m this nervous,” Riku said, waving away the spoon when Sion gave it to him as it was his turn. He could no longer stomach the dessert now that he was back to thinking about his situation. “The whole reason why he’s the first one I’m meeting is because I liked him the best.”
“You’ve met him?” Sion asked, the colour seeming to drain from his face. Riku gave him a puzzled look.
“Not recently, but our families did visit each other once or twice when we were children.”
Sion stayed silent for a moment, as though thinking something over. Riku snatched the spoon from his mouth when he saw he had begun biting it like he always did whenever he thought too hard with something in his mouth.
“But obviously, that doesn’t mean I know him,” Riku continued. “He could have very well changed in the years between our last meeting and this. But he was the one who reached out for my hand, not his parents, so. I think that says something.”
Sion seemed to understand what he was getting at: Riku wanted someone that truly wanted him, that would take care of him.
Before he could continue, he was interrupted by a giggle, then the girl appeared before them. Sion disentangled their fingers.
“Would you like to try our new soup?” she asked, but she had already placed a bowl in front of them.
Riku and Sion glanced at each other apprehensively.
“What’s in it?” Sion asked, at the same time Riku said, “I’m a little full…”
“Why! You’ve only had some tea…”
Riku bit his lip.
“He’s got a sensitive stomach,” Sion said, like she hadn’t once bared witness to them ordering six different rounds of creamy ice.
She turned without another word, taking the bowl with her. Not even a minute passed before she was back.
She had her hands under the counter, clearly hiding something.
“Forgive the intrusion, but you were talking quite loudly anyway,” she began, rather snidely. “I heard you’re quite nervous. I’ve the perfect remedy for that.” Then she raised what she’d been holding— a cup of tea.
Riku knew rejecting the girl a second time would be rude, especially when she knew that he could always stomach tea, no matter how full. Still, he couldn’t help hesitating. He felt the exact moment his hesitation registered to Sion, as he began to tense up— no matter how much he liked the girl, Sion would always put Riku first, and rush to his defence no matter the circumstance. Not wanting Sion to intervene or make the situation any awkward, Riku simply accepted the cup.
And he didn’t regret it. At the first sip he was already feeling himself starting to calm down, sighing in relief. By the time he considered giving some to Sion, he was already drinking the last drop.
He gasped, holding onto Sion’s forearm. “I didn’t ask if you wanted some!”
Sion only swiped his thumb at the centre of Riku’s bottom lip, where apparently some liquid had been left behind. Riku felt the ground give under him when he saw Sion’s intention to put it in his mouth. He’s so embarrassing!
Desperate, he grabbed Sion’s wrist and licked the liquid off his thumb. Then he realised what he’d done, jolting back, and they stared at each other wide eyed, the tips of Sion’s ears flushed so dark they blended into the tavern’s shadows.
“U-um…” Sion started. “I’m sure we can ask her for some more…”
But when the girl returned, she said, “Sorry! That was the last of it. Tea shortage!”
━━━━
The sun had nearly sunk beyond the horizon and stars were already dotting the sky by the time they made their way back to town. They kept to the quieter streets, half-hidden from the evening crowds. A faint unease lingered between them, and Riku figured it must be because they were still tender from their earlier row. So it was decided, without much discussion, that Sion would stay the night at the palace.
The tea, it seemed, had worked its quiet magic. Whatever storm had seized Riku’s nerves earlier had softened, and before long he drifted into a rare, peaceful sleep.
He had no way of knowing what awaited him come morning.
“...told her that I didn’t want new robes just to take a walk with him, that’s absurd, everyone will see I’m sporting one of my best and think it means I will immediately marry him!”
He’d been talking Sion's ear off for minutes now, ever since they woke and his valet had brought in the garments for his debut. Then it had finally dawned on Riku that he was less than twenty-four hours away from meeting his first suitor.
“What if everyone starts saying I’ve already chosen him because of what I wear? And then the other suitors hear about it, and suddenly my only option left is him?”
The next time he strode past, Sion yanked him by the arm and tugged him down into his lap. He wrapped his arms around Riku’s, caging him in and forcing him to stop wriggling. “Calm down,” he said.
He brushed his nose against Riku’s nape until he felt the tension start to melt from his body.
“It’s a valid fear, though,” Riku said once he was more calm. “I don’t want to end up with someone who won’t take care of me…”
“It won’t happen,” Sion said simply, as if it was a fact. Or a promise.
He finally loosened his hold around when Riku completely ceased his squirming. Without the grounding feeling of arms around him, Riku once again had nothing much to distract him from his spiraling thoughts. He got up to completely avoid the mere chance of Sion hearing the way his heartbeat was starting to pick back up, this time tenfold.
Images of a miserable life flashed before his eyes, of a faceless figure turning away from Riku’s tears, of Riku’s most important possession becoming a cold, hollow crown, of a lifetime of duty without warmth— they came so fast he didn’t register he had stopped breathing properly and had begun to tremble.
And suddenly, there was no Riku at all.
He distantly heard Sion’s undignified scream, which in any other circumstance would’ve been funny (he was still going to make fun of it later, Riku would make sure of it), but now that sound felt like it would crack his ears. His very little ears. He could hardly see in front of him, seemingly plunged in darkness, but there was a part of his face touching what he undeniably recognised as his sleeping robes.
“Riku?!” Sion roared, and Riku gave a… squeak?
The rustling and scrambling in the room froze.
“...Riku?”
The fabric that had apparently been covering his eyes— it was his sleeping robes— suddenly lifted, and a blurry, gigantic version of his room appeared before Riku.
“What the- hell!”
At the loud sound, Riku’s new ears twitched in pain, and he once again let out a painful squeak.
Sion seemed to realise what was going on, since he immediately started whispering apologies. Then he got on his knees, his face plunged into clarity the closer it got to Riku.
He let out a gasp. “Riku…”
Whatever fear or shock he might’ve felt vanished in the face of Riku’s trembling form. Tiny, trembling form. Sion crouched down and, with hands just as gentle but much larger than Riku had ever felt, scooped Riku’s tiny body into his palm. Riku’s fur— Riku’s fur!— almost enveloped the whole of Sion’s palm.
“There, there,” Sion murmured. He brushed his thumbs lightly against Riku’s sides, a mimicry of the calming gestures he used on his… well. His human self.
To Riku’s surprise, the effect seemed to transcend matters of physicality. The panic of moments ago slowly gave way to a quiet, fragile calm, the kind that in a situation like this only Sion could bring to Riku.
Minutes passed. The warmth of Sion’s palm, the slow rhythm of his breathing, must have lulled Riku into drowsiness. The trembling stopped, and he felt the tiny surface area of his body begin to sag in Sion’s hold, as if drifting toward sleep.
Then—
A blinding flash. A sudden weight.
Sion jerked upright instinctively, and now he was the one squeaking— and in doing so, dropped what was now a very human Riku onto the carpet.
Riku landed with an undignified thump, tangled in the folds of his own night robe, hair sticking up wildly and eyes wide. For a heartbeat, neither of them moved, their loud, breathless pants filling up the room.
Finally, Riku raised a shaky finger at himself, eyes so round they looked like they were going to fall of his head, and in no uncertain terms, declared,
“I have been cursed!”