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"It has come to my attention that you have been sharing your bed with a palace guard. Is this true?"
Kenma stares back at his father, his features carefully schooled into a neutral expression. Despite the rapid beat of his heart, the panic that rises like acid in the back of his throat, he appears perfectly calm, kneeling on the floor in front of the emperor, his hands folded neatly in his lap. It's a skill he's perfected ever since he was young.
"What does it matter if I am or not?" he asks, relieved when none of his emotions bleed through the words.
His father, the emperor, gives him a stern look. "You know why it matters. You have a reputation to uphold. When I am gone, you will be the next emperor. If word of your indiscretion reaches our neighbors, do you think they'd want to trade with us? To conduct dealings with an emperor who let a servant fuck him like a woman?"
Kenma suppresses the cringe those words incite. Instead, he rolls his eyes. "If our neighbors put the value of our resources on who I take to bed they're idiots and perhaps we shouldn't be dealing with them in the first place."
"That's not the point!" His father is frowning at him now, a vein throbbing on his forehead. Kenma stares at it, wondering if the man realizes his mask is slipping. "There are laws, societal expectations. What you're doing is unseemly and disrespectful to the throne you represent."
"I never asked to represent the throne," Kenma mutters, turning his gaze away.
"Your insolence speaks of your immaturity." The emperor's voice has returned to its calm, impassive state. He lifts his gaze, nodding to the guards by the door. "Bring him in."
Kenma tenses, but he doesn't look up as he hears the door open and the sound of footsteps drawing closer. Then there's a thump, the sound of someone's breath being knocked out of them, and Tetsurou's beside him, kneeling on the floor with his head bowed low before the emperor.
Kenma chances a glance at the man. His uniform kimono is torn at the collar, revealing the bite marks and scratches on his clavicle and chest. His hands are tied behind him with rope, but otherwise he looks unharmed. When he feels Kenma's watching him, he shifts his gaze, giving Kenma a crooked half-smile.
Kenma looks away quickly, his chest tightening. "What are you doing?" he asks his father, his voice tinted with annoyance.
The emperor ignores him, turning instead to Tetsurou. "Did you initiate this inappropriate relationship with my son?"
"He didn't," Kenma answers before Tetsurou can even open his mouth. "I did."
His father clicks his tongue in irritation.
"My prince," Tetsurou murmurs, but Kenma ignores him.
"I ordered him to do everything," he continues quickly. "I never gave him the choice to refuse. I fucked him and commanded him to fuck me. He's like a toy to me. None of it means anything." He shakes his head, keeping his eyes on his father and ignoring the sharp intake of breath from Tetsurou beside him.
The emperor raises an eyebrow. "Is this true?" he asks Tetsurou. "Were you simply following orders?"
Kenma bites the inside of his lip. Silently, he wills Tetsurou to agree, to play along. He knows the man has feelings for him. How could he not notice the gentle way Tetsurou will sometimes hold him, the tender look in his eyes when he watches him. The way his lips will caress his temple, as he smokes after their late-night activities. He can still hear Tetsurou's voice in his head, speaking softly yet full of affection.
"I'm yours, completely."
"I love my prince," Tetsurou answers quietly. "I follow each of his commands gladly. He's never forced me to do anything."
Kenma resists the urge to yell, to slap Tetsurou upside the head and tell him he's being an idiot. He curls his hands into fists, his nails digging into his palms.
"You know such a relationship is unlawful and indecent, yes?" the emperor asks calmly.
Tetsurou nods. "I am aware of the law," he says. "It was never my intention to disrespect Your Excellency or this throne. I will accept any punishment you deem fit, but I am not ashamed of what I've done." He lifts his head, looking from the emperor's expressionless features, to Kenma's wide-eyed look. He offers another half-smile.
"I sought only to bring my prince comfort and to show him affection. Loneliness is unhealthy for anyone. Even royalty."
Kenma bites back a scream of frustration. His chest aches, and he finds he cannot hold Tetsurou's gaze. He turns his face away, staring at the floor and dreading his father's sentencing.
"As your intentions were not malicious, I see no reason to execute you," the emperor says after a long moment.
"I appreciate that," Tetsurou says with a relieved bow of his head.
"However, this conduct is unseemly and cannot continue. You will spend the night under guard and in the morning you will be reassigned to the garrison at the border."
Kenma's heart stutters before dropping into his stomach. He clenches his hands tighter, the sting reminding him to keep quiet, to not react. His father waves for the guards to take Tetsurou away, and Kenma keeps his eyes on the floor. Acid churns in his stomach, and he feels the bile rising in his throat, creating pressure that he swallows down as best he can.
"You are the emperor's son. You are not allowed to be selfish," his father says flatly. "You have a duty to this throne and to your country. You must uphold this family's reputation. You cannot allow your emotions to fuel you. A good emperor thinks with his head, not his cock."
Kenma bites his lip so hard he feels the skin break, tastes blood on his tongue. "Yes, sir," he mutters.
"If you wish to lie with someone so badly, there are plenty of girls you can take as wives and mistresses who can give you heirs."
Kenma scowls at the floor but doesn't speak. As soon as he's dismissed, he stands and walks swiftly from the room.
He's not entirely sure what he's feeling. Frustration, certainly; anger, perhaps. But is he upset at his toy being taken away, or does this emotion run deeper than that? It certainly feels more intense than the simple irritation of losing something he owns. But that's all Tetsurou is to him, right? An object of pleasure he took to stave off his loneliness, to alleviate his fear. Tetsurou performed so well, was so obedient and pliant that Kenma suspected from the start that the man might have feelings for him beyond that of a guard's regard for his prince.
He used this to his advantage to get what he wanted.
He used Tetsurou like the toy he described him as.
So why does he feel such panic at the thought of never seeing him again? He should be able to simply find a new toy. There are plenty of attractive guards in the palace who he could bend to his will.
But he never truly had to command Tetsurou to do anything, did he? It never felt as though he was forcing Tetsurou to do something he felt was wrong or didn't want to do. And Kenma liked that. He liked the mutual push and pull the two of them had, the easy rhythm they were able to fall into, like they'd known each other their whole lives.
He took comfort in this. In Tetsurou.
He's not sure he can find that same connection in anyone else.
He's not sure he wants to even look for it.
Kenma slows to a stop in the middle of the hallway, clutching the sides of his kimono in his hands tightly, as his heart pounds faster and faster until he feels lightheaded.
He doesn't want anyone other than Tetsurou, he realizes. He doesn't want to feel anyone else's arms around him, anyone else's lips on his skin. He doesn't want to hear anyone tell him under threat of death or banishment, "I'm yours, completely."
When Tetsurou says it, he means it. He doesn't just say it because he knows that's what Kenma wants to hear. He says it because it's true.
His heart, body, and soul belong to Kenma. And Kenma now understands that his belong to Tetsurou as well.
***
He waits until after midnight to sneak out of his chambers. He has to climb out through the window and down the trellis, which is more effort than he thought it'd be. He rips his yukata and skins his knee, but eventually he's on the ground, and he makes his way across the courtyard to the room where they're holding Tetsurou.
"My prince, you are not supposed to be here," one of the guards tells him immediately.
"I just want to see him," Kenma says, doing his best not to sound petulant.
"We are under orders not to let anyone through," the second guard says apologetically.
"What if I order you to leave?"
"Your orders do not supersede the emperor's. I'm sorry, my prince."
Kenma frowns. Stepping forward, he places his hand on the door, pushing it open. The first guard reaches for him, but he fixes the man with a glare so intense he freezes in place.
"Don't touch me," he hisses.
"But . . . our orders . . ."
"Were to not let anyone through. Well, you're not letting me. I'm forcing my way in. You'll have to remove me physically, and I just commanded you not to touch me. My father didn't give you any orders about that, did he?"
The guards glance at each other, completely bewildered, and Kenma shuts the door in their faces.
Tetsurou's lying on a futon near the back of the room. It's small, with only a single table and chair in the center, a small dresser, and a chamber pot in the corner. Tetsurou's bare-chested, his face smashed between two pillows. Kenma can see the scratches on his back, left behind by his own nails.
Suddenly, Kenma's not sure what to do or say. Tetsurou's in this situation because of him. He's leaving his luxurious position at the palace to be placed in a garrison full of men in cramped quarters. He'll need to stand on the wall day by day, baking in the hot summer, freezing in the cold winter. He'll have to eat rice without any fixings. He won't even have access to apple pie.
"I'm sorry," he says finally. I didn't mean for this to happen.
Tetsurou's head comes up slowly, he turns to face Kenma, blinking blearily at him. "My prince?"
Kenma drops to his knees beside the futon. Leaning down, he presses his forehead against the mattress, squeezing his eyes shut. "You're so stupid," he mutters. "Why did you display your feelings so openly? If my father believed you were under orders, he would have only punished me."
Though sending you away feels like my punishment in of itself.
Tetsurou places his hand lightly on the back of his head, stroking his fingers gently through Kenma's hair. "I couldn't bear the thought of him seeing you as someone who would do something like that to another person," he admits. "It was my choice to be with you. I could have refused. I didn't. Besides, I meant what I said. I'm not ashamed of my feelings for you."
Kenma lifts his head, frowning at him. "He would've let you stay. We could've still been together."
Tetsurou's lips twist into a mirthless smile. "I'm sure my prince can find another guard to be his toy."
Kenma's gut clenches. He turns his face away, hiding behind his hair. "I don't want anyone else," he mutters.
". . . Oh?"
Kenma twists his fingers together in his lap. "My father . . . he always tells me a good emperor uses his head. That a good emperor can't be ruled by his emotions. I've never . . . been allowed to feel. I'm not allowed to be sad or angry or-or scared." He squints up at the ceiling, his face growing warm.
"But with you . . . with you I could feel all those things. I could . . . let myself go. Be free. You let me be free. I never felt . . . judgment or disappointment from you. You let me be myself. I don't know if I could feel that kind of comfort with anyone else, and I don't want to find out. I want you."
"My prince . . ."
Kenma lowers his gaze, frowning at Tetsurou. "Don't call me that. I'm Kenma. With you, I've only ever been Kenma."
The look on Tetsurou's face causes Kenma's heartbeat to quicken. It's full of tenderness, of an affection that goes deeper than that of a guard to his prince. It's love, pure and simple, and Kenma feels exposed under the weight of that gaze. He lowers his eyes, and he feels Tetsurou's palm against the side of his face. He leans into the touch, unable to help it. Closing his eyes, he buries his nose into Tetsurou's palm, the ache in his chest growing sharper.
Don't go. Stay with me, please.
"Kenma."
Kenma squeezes his eyes shut tighter. He can feel the tears burning at their corners, the lump rising in his throat.
"Come here."
Tetsurou takes his arm, drawing him closer. Kenma seeks out his lips with his own, kissing him deeply. The ache doesn't alleviate. If anything, it gets worse. He doesn't want to lose Tetsurou. Without him, the palace will return to the cage it's been his whole life. Kenma's not sure how he'll survive.
Tetsurou kisses him back with longing, his fingers moving through Kenma's hair, as he holds him close to his chest. Kenma grips his shoulders, shifting in his lap so he's straddling him. He gets as close as he can, until he can feel their heartbeats pounding together as one. He bites down on Tetsurou's lip, pulling on it until he opens for him with a soft moan. Kenma licks into his mouth, relishing the wet warmth. Tetsurou's hands tremble on his head and back, and Kenma wishes he could press even closer, to meld his body with Tetsurou's until there's no way to tell when he ends and Tetsurou begins.
"Kenma," Tetsurou murmurs, pulling away even as Kenma mews in protest. He sets his forehead against Kenma's, breathing quickly.
"This doesn't have to be goodbye," he says quietly. "Your father could have killed me, but he didn't. We'll see each other again."
Kenma's nails dig into Tetsurou's back. "I'll visit you at the garrison. I'll say I'm inspecting the troops."
Tetsurou grins faintly, playing absently with the ends of Kenma's hair. "I'd be more than happy to let you inspect me," he says.
Kenma snorts, stifling a laugh despite the pain. Wrapping his arms around Tetsurou's neck, he holds him close. "As soon as I'm emperor, I'm bringing you back," he whispers into his hair.
Tetsurou's arms wrap around his middle, clutching him tightly. "I look forward to it," he says.
"Let me stay with you tonight?"
"Is that really up to me?" Tetsurou asks with a soft laugh.
Kenma pulls back to look at him. "Do you want me to stay?" he asks plainly, watching Tetsurou's expression.
It softens, and he runs his hands up Kenma's back slowly. "Always," he says.
Kenma pushes him to lie down, remaining on top of him and nestling his head beneath Tetsurou's chin. Tetsurou continues to hold him, rubbing his back gently.
"I'll always be yours," Tetsurou murmurs. "Even at the border."
"Good," Kenma says, closing his eyes. "I'll be yours too."
"You will?"
Kenma can hear the grin in Tetsurou's voice and can't help but smile faintly himself.
"I will. Completely."