Chapter Text
Zanka sat atop the golden throne, back straight and face blank but calculating. The practiced image of the perfect prince, soon to be king, dressed in the finest steel blue vest over a silky blouse, paired with a high-low blazer and dark pants topped off with a priceless crown settled on his styled hair.
From his position he had a clear overview of the ballroom, his seat was above the rest, situated at the top of the grand limestone stairs. Below him was where all the ruling and highborn were enjoying themselves or at least pretending to be. The room was circular, the left had arched openings for guests to stream in and out from, while the right held a matching structure but for windows, those of which were now showcasing the beautiful full moon’s glow. A live band played soft ballads all the way across from the prince behind the tables filled to the brim with food some people could only dream to taste. The whole place was lit up by one massive chandelier, made with the rarest and shiniest gemstones.
The room was filled with gossip, dance and arrangement of deals that would only benefit those lucky enough to attend this marital ball.
His father had left his side a little while earlier to find, in his words, a ‘suitable’ suitor for Zanka to marry.
Oh yeah, did he forget to mention that the whole reason why this last minute event was happening was because he had to choose someone to be his beloved?
Since his 18th birthday was a month away from now, since his coronation was a month from now, his father thought that there was no better time than the present to start the search for Zanka’s future lover.
In the entire history of the Nijiku bloodline the future king or queen had a self-chosen beloved that stood proudly by their side as they took on the duty of the throne. But don’t let the ‘self-chosen’ part fool you, there were boundaries within who you were allowed to choose. The main ones were that they had to be of the opposite gender, they had to have royal blood and they had to have a respectable reputation.
Zanka never bothered himself with finding a lover, instead he found studying about the kingdom’s history and the relations with other provinces a much better use of his time. But now that choice had come home to roost him.
Both his elder siblings had chosen to abandon the role of being the heir, instead to hold the respectable positions of army generals, training the bunch to fight and die honorably for their kingdom. Thus being the last child, Zanka was left with the burden to become the kingdom’s next heir.
When he was younger he was stubbornly opposed to being next in line. He also liked sword fighting, but what he liked more was the granted freedom generals had to travel the highs and lows without needing to be escorted by 5 men, not that he’d ever admit it.
Since he was so committed to being in the army, he got a one in a million chance to prove himself by beating the army’s best fighter; Hyo, in a sword fight.
He was naive to think that he had even stood a chance.
He remembered training himself bloody every night and the feeling of satisfaction each time he had perfected a technique.
Zanka hadn’t felt that feeling of satisfaction ever since.
The fight he had been waiting for for so long was over in just a second. He had been knocked over, unable to get back up before he could even land one hit.
The looks he got from his family were ones that could haunt him even on a good day, the disappointment and discontent were enough to last him twenty lifetimes. The humiliation stuck to him like an unbearable stench that wouldn’t leave his body, even after he scrubbed his skin till it was red and irritated.
After that he gave up on trying to be in the army and worked his butt off to be the best damned king that this kingdom has ever seen.
His fists clenched at the memory, what a pain.
“Is everything alright, your imperial highness?”
Enjin’s voice snapped him out of his daze.
He couldn’t put into words how much he appreciated him. After he had given up on everything, Enjin had seen him sulking by the well and offered to spar with him. It seems like an insignificant gesture, something he thought too in the moment, thus he rejected not willing to lose again. But when one day filled with nothing but lessons and studying left him restless, he needed an outlet.
It had been months since he had picked up a sword and to no surprise, seeing his incompetence, he had lost again.
For the next half hour he found himself cursing anything and everything on the familiar cold coble ground.
When he came to from his outburst he realized that Enjin, to his surprise, sat right next to him throughout the entire thing. Zanka could only feel embarrassment, this behaviour wasn’t fit for a future king. Thus he waited to be reprimanded, just like how his father and siblings did to him, but when the only thing he got was a few pats on the shoulder and encouragement paired with honest pointers he cried for the first time in a while.
That day they had tried again but with an odd abandoned weapon he found in the armory. Something about the long stick splitting at the top and curving into a half moon spoke to Zanka.
They continued to spend time together and spar in the evenings after his lesson. Zanka felt like he finally had made a real friend/brother figure and before they knew it Enjin had been promoted to be his personal guard.
Zanka would like to say that he had also improved during that time, mostly thanks to his favorite weapon, but he still can’t do anything about being an average joe.
“So, this is quite the banquet, your highness. Has anyone managed to catch your eye?” Enjin kept a professional stance next to Zanka, his eyes not leaving the crowd for potential enemies but yet he wore an amused smile.
“Oh drop the honorifics, nobody can hear you anyways and we both know that this banquet is a joke.”
Enjin spared him a quick glance “No can do your imperial highness, you know the rules. Anywhere in public means strict professional interactions. And about the banquet… I don’t know, maybe this will be good for you.”
Zanka whipped his head around to look at the man like he had grown three heads. “How is this good for me?! I won’t find anyone like this, nor do I want to find anyone like this. You’re only trying to nudge me in the direction of love since you met this one guy… who was it again? That one steward-”
“OK!” Enjin cut him off “Excuse me your royal highness but your father might be trying to call you over.”
Zanka looked at the direction he nudged his chin towards and indeed found his father, standing next to a young woman with bright red hair by the food table, waving him over.
Zanka rolled his eyes “Fine, you’re off the hook for now. Let’s go.”
Zanka departed from his throne, already missing the comforting fabric and warmth that came with it. He made his way through the crowd with tailing Enjin close behind him, closing in on where his father was at a reasonable pace.
“Hello father,” Zanka gave a light bow to his dad before facing the girl “Good evening…?”
“It’s Riyo Reaper, your majesty.” The girl, Riyo, gave a polite bow.
He recognised the name. She was the second child, first daughter at age sixteen from the royal family of the Raiders. Although she is the second child in age, she is the first in line to the throne. Why? Nobody knows exactly, but rumours speculate that the first son had been caught in quite the scandalised manor with another man by one of his maids, thus losing the face and right to be a ruler.
It was quite the story and used often as a lesson in his household of what not to be.
No matter how much people around him shunned the guy, Zanka could never participate and see his supposed wrong doings. This ‘taboo’ about being attracted to the same gender wasn’t all that big of a deal for him, but he wasn’t one of those folks. He couldn’t with the way his kingdom relies on him.
As Zanka returned the gesture he looked at her properly. She wore a pear green floral corset that seemed almost painful with how tight it was fastened paired with poofy sleeves that descended into thin, wavy sleeves. The long skirt had three layers, the one on top matching the state of green of the corset faded into a lacey white that once again faded into the familiar green. Zanka noticed that her hair, which was pulled into a bohemian bun, bore pins matching the floral accents on her gown.
She had a small face and big emerald eyes, something that suited her really well. Her small lips painted a deep red pulled into a tight smile as she met Zanka’s gaze.
Shoot, maybe he had been staring too much. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, but it seems like he did.
“Good evening miss Reaper, how are you this evening?”
“I’m quite well, how is his imperial highness?”
“I’m also quite well, hard not to be on this wonderful night.”
Zanka definitely did not qualify this as a wonderful night, but he had to keep up this forcefully prim and proper act if he wanted to get through the night with minimal complications.
“I’ve heard many great things about your land, mostly of your country’s excellency in physical aid. I hear even your castle physician is the best of the best.” Riyo complemented, never dropping the smile.
“Ah yes, we do try our best to offer our best to our common folk. As for our physician, if you would like to meet her I’m sure she would be willing to talk to such a wonderful maiden as yourself.”
Zanka wanted to choke on his own words. It was not that this maiden wasn’t beautiful, he just didn’t want to invoke false hope into this poor girl. The rumours would be terrible, he could see the headlines in the morning paper now: Zanka Nijiku, a confirmed lothario and rake after leading multiple girls on at his marital banquet.
He shivered inwardly at the thought.
“That would be an honor.”
“I see this is going quite well.” Zanka’s father seemed as pleased as he could with his stone cold expression “I must attend in some other matters so I’ll leave you two be. I shall be taking Enjin with me to give you guys some more privacy.” Zanka’s father entered and left the conversation quickly, taking away Zanka’s only support in this time of need.
Zanka felt embarrassment rise in his entire being as Enjin gave him a sorry smile before being hauled off by the king, ‘duty awaits’ as he liked to say.
Just great.
Now that he was gone a heavy silence fell between the two. Zanka wasn’t sure how to continue on this conversation and thus opted to sip on some champagne from the table.
The woman’s smile was absent as she fiddled with some loose strands of her hair while she scanned the room, seeming lost in thought.
“Hey-”
“So-”
They both stared at each other.
Zanka cleared his throat “You may go.”
Riyo gave one curt nod “I do not wish to marry you.”
Zanka’s eyes widened significantly.
Riyo waved her hands around in alarm. “Not that you aren’t handsome or nice or something! It’s just that I have my sights set on another… my sincerest apologies for leading you on your highness.”
She looked really guilty as she wrapped her arms around herself.
Zanka shook his head quickly. “No need to apologize your majesty! In all honesty I do not wish to be betrothed right now and was scared that I may have led you on… so my apologies.”
Riyo blinked once, then twice before bursting out laughing causing a few heads to turn. “It seems that we’re both stuck in a match-making situation.”
Zanka cracked a smile “It seems so.”
“No hard feelings?” Riyo put her hand out in front of him.
Zanka took it and gracefully landed a quick kiss on top of it. “No hard feelings, your majesty.”
Riyo looked happy, showcasing a looser smile than before. “Let's drop the honorifics, I’m sure we can be classified as friends now!”
Zanka felt the tips of his ears heat up. Nobody dared to refer to him in a casual manner. The only other person he was close enough to to drop honorifics was Enjin and even that took over a year. Now here he is fifteen minutes later making another friend he could casually address.
The air between the two didn’t feel as heavy anymore and Zanka could feel himself relax in her presence.
As he continued to sip on his champagne moderately, eyes sweeping the crowd once again, he saw someone that caught his eye.
From where Zanka stood he could make out that the man’s hair was made up in locks adorned with gold jewelry that reflected the light with every movement. His tanned skin was dressed in a deep purple short-fronted tailcoat over a plain linen shirt paired with a black pantaloon.
Why did he catch Zanka’s attention? Well because he was currently the only one in the entire ballroom that was currently dancing to the beat the band made. As he swayed back and forth he effortlessly avoided every passerby, it even seemed like he didn’t realize the weird stares he was getting.
He was moving in a way that looked foreign to him. Maybe it was a dance more common in his area? Speaking of which, where was he from?
Zanka was so focused on the spectacle that was created by the singular man, he didn’t notice Riyo snort.
“Looks about right. This is the effect my brother tends to have on people.” She joked.
“E-excuse me… brother?!” Zanka closed his mouth before he could catch flies.
This was thé Jabber Reaper?
“Ahh I see the rumors have spread all the way through the countries.” Riyo nodded thoughtfully, seemingly not bothered in the slightest.
“He’s the first son that was caught sexu- romantically involved with anoth-“ Zanka lowered his voice in case someone nearby would overhear his gossiping “with another man?!”
Riyo’s brows furrowed “Yeah… something wrong with that?”
Her tone was clipped and defensive, it was clear that she cared a great deal about her brother.
“No! Nothing wrong. In my opinion there isn’t anything odd about it… though aside from that he seems a little…”
Riyo instantly looked relieved and finished his sentence for him “Odd? Weird? Totally out of his mind? I could go on for as long as you need to.”
Zanka cringed “I was gonna say quirky but what you said might apply too.”
Riyo smiled softly. “He may not look it but he is one of the best people I have gotten to the honor know… I wish others would look past those stupid rumors and see him for who he really is.”
Zanka didn’t know what to say to such a heartfelt confession so he just slowly nodded. Though something she said caught his attention, what did she mean ‘I have gotten the honor to know’? Isn’t he her brother?
He didn’t get the chance to dwell on it any further because a girl even shorter than Riyo appeared. She had long hair that faded from black to an orange that reminded Zanka of a pumpkin. She wore a frilly white and black dress that, in contrast to Riyo’s long one, reached till her knees. The girl, definitely no older than Riyo, frantically grabbed her hands and started ranting.
“Sisteryouwillnotbelievewhatjusthappened!ThisboywithwhitehairthatfadesjustlikeAmo’sapproachedherinthecourtyardandhewassonice!!Hecomplimentedherandgaveherthis-“
This was definitely a matter between siblings and so Zanka tuned the ranting out. He picked up from her nearly incomprehensible prattle the word sister, which means that this was princess Amo the third child of the royal Raider family, he didn’t view the attendance list so he wasn’t aware that all three of them had come to the banquet.
As Zanka scanned the crowd again he realized that Jabber was nowhere to be found. He squinted his eyes trying to spot the dread head when he saw someone slip out through the open doors of the ballroom.
Zanka made up his mind and chose that moment to split up from his new friend.
They exchanged a smile before Zanka left and scurried his way between the crowd and out the hall. Surely it was busy enough for nobody to pick up on his absence for a few minutes.
Now where could he have gone?
Zanka aimlessly wandered the giant halls decked with dark blue carpets that matched the curtains, often passing paintings of older generations of the Nijiku family.
After turning into his fourth hall he stopped in his place. Without a moment's delay he ducked, avoiding a punch aimed towards his head.
He moved back and faced his opponent, already in a battle stance. Yet he was met with an unexpected face.
“Jabber?!”
Said person in question had a big unrestricted smile on his face, not at all in battle stance although he had thrown the first punch. He almost looked carefree.
“Aww no fun, you already know my name, your highness…”
Zanka was completely confused, color him clueless.
“Why the hell did you try to punch me?!”
Now Jabber had the audacity to look confused as he tilted his head to the side. “Am I mistaken or were you the person who was following me? In my defense it was self defense, your majesty.”
Zanka huh’ed loud. “No, don't pull that shit. You were probably following me since my second turn! And you knew who I was, hence you’re addressing me as ‘your highness’!”
Jabber was making him lose his composure without him even realizing it. Were his father here he would have been scolded for five different things he had done wrong. What was up with this guy? Not even a minute into their interaction and he was already consciously or not pushing all the wrong buttons. Why was he so frustrating?
“Cats out of the bag. My deepest apologies your majesty. I was just itching for something fun to do! That banquet was such a borefest, not even a single person was enjoying the music!”
Zanka chose to ignore the insincerity laced with the apology. But thinking about it, he did have a point. Even Zanka was getting bored at that event and he was trained his whole life to sit through them!
“That we can agree on… but royal business is royal business-”
Zanka got cut off when Jabber barked out a loud and unhinged laugh. He could help but flinch at the volume and intensity, who in the hell laughs like that? Though in a way Zanka found himself getting a little jealous, the boy across from him seemed so free. Like he didn’t feel the world’s weight on his shoulders with every move he made. That was something that Zanka could never be.
“Ok now why are you laughing? Is there something on my face or?” Zanka crossed his arms.
“I can’t- I’m sorry it’s just-” he laughed again, bending a little forwards “You said r-royal business!”
As he dissolved into another round of laughter Zanka deadpanned.
“You’re so immature.”
After a while Jabber recollected himself, once again standing tall. “Moving on from that, what else do they want you to do tonight instead of sitting up there looking all pretty and shit? Cause wasn’t this banquet a betrothed choosing or something? Wait, do you need to choose your life long partner tonight?! If so, how the hell are you going to do that in just under a few hours?”
Jabber continued on, jumping to his own conclusions in his ranting. This way you can really tell that he and Amo are related.
But Zanka couldn’t bring himself to interrupt him, not with the one word swirling around in his mind. Pretty? Did he just call him pretty? Sure Zanka had been called handsome or charming and maybe even attractive… but pretty? And from a guy too.
What bothered him most was that when he got compliments he could admit to feeling a little giddy, but for some reason this one made his heart skip a beat… was he getting sick? That was probably it, he’d have to visit Eisha soon then.
Seeing as Jabber was still in his own world Zanka spoke up, finally levelheaded. “Yeah this banquet is for choosing my betrothed,” the word left a bitter taste on his tongue “but it’s merely the first step. I’ll then in three days time need to choose who I’d like and after that is the courting, which includes everything from dates to paperwork… I’m already dreading it.”
Shit, Zanka was not supposed to let his displeasure be known about this. It would be bad for an heir to openly be seen hating on an old tradition.
Right when he was about to right his wrong and spout some lie about actually looking forward to it Jabber nodded in complete understanding.
“That sucks man. I’d honestly run away if I were forced to do this.”
Zanka snorted. “Yeah but I don’t think you’d have to worry about it since you’re not in line to become king anymore.”
Zanka slapped a hand over his mouth. What is up with him today? Normally he doesn’t speak informally to a total stranger much less speak his mind, this guy was seriously throwing him off his game.
More so, he was afraid that he offended Jabber. He didn’t know if this was a sore subject, god knows if Zanka were in his shoes he would have committed a murder right then and there.
But to his relief Jabber just laughed, waving it off.
“Yep that’s me, the pansy first child of the Reaper bloodline.”
Zanka frowned. “Well that’s quite extreme, do you get called that a lot?”
Jabber shrugged. “What have I not been called? The list goes on and on.”
This left Zanka a little irritated. What right do people have judging and blatantly being mean to someone without knowing the whole story? Someone oughta beat some sense into these people.
As Zanka was brooding he didn’t notice Jabber stalking closer until he had thrown an arm around his shoulder.
“No need to get mad on my behalf, your highness, the townsfolk will be townsfolk. But if you really feel bad give me a tour of the castle.”
Jabber requested without shame, not caring if Zanka saw through his pity act.
“How shameless, we haven’t even properly introduced ourselves yet you already want to see my chambers?” Zanka couldn’t help but indulge a little in his foolishness.
Jabber snickered before pulling away and dramatically bowing "Good evening your ever so royal highness. My name is Jabber Reaper and I am the first born son from the Raider kingdom. May his highness grant me some of his time this fine evening? You see… this lowly one really wants to see his sleeping chambers.”
He reached out grabbing Zanka’s hand.
Zanka flinched at the contact. This felt way over the top and mocking yet the prince felt somewhat endeared by this short speech (he chose to ignore the implications at the end).
The point of contact was warm, compared to Zanka Jabber ran hot. The only cool thing about his hands were the silver rings that adorned each finger, making the hands seem more delicate than they were.
Then he did something that sent a shiver down his spine, Jabber brought his hand towards his mouth and softly kissed it. Zanka flushed, he was treating him like he was the most costly thing in the castle and that made him feel like this was more intimate than it should.
He quickly pulled away “F-fine, you’ll get your tour… but only because I’d rather do that then go back to the ball.”
Jabber stood up straight, looking like he had just won the lottery “That works for me!”
—
The castle's layout was easy once you got the hang of it.
Right when you entered on the right you had a hall that led to the banquet, a big room that took up ¼ of the bottom floor. They of course avoided that area in case someone would drag their asses back to the room that was too overbearing. When you walked further away from the banquet you had the dining area with another hall that led you to the grand garden, somewhere they also avoided because some guests choose to explore the outdoor scenery. The entire left wing was used as the maid quarters. Thus the kitchen, laundry room, atelier, infirmary and their sleeping spaces.
Zanka did bring Jabber to the left wing, he was pretty close with the staff, something that is bound to happen if your social interaction is limited to the patrons in the royal castle.
Normally there were more staff in the space, but since there was lots to be done during a party behind the scenes, the only person there was Gris.
Gris was the head chef and steward. He was like a father to every staff member (maybe sometimes even Zanka), always so open and welcoming to anyone and everyone. No matter how busy he was he would find time to lend an ear to whoever needed it and offer guidance to those under his command.
Gris was hovered over the stove, clearly focused on some custard boiling in a pot. The kitchen was an absolute wreck, dirty dishes were scattered everywhere and bits of food of just about everything was strewn around.
The sound of their steps when they entered the kitchen alerted the cook and he looked up, his brows that were drawn together in concentration relaxed when he saw who it was.
“Hello your highness, I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” Gris remarked, taking the custard off the fire then transferring it into another bowl.
“Hello… if you’re busy we can leave you be.” Zanka always felt like he was invading someone's space, nevermind if they were busy or not.
Jabber hovered behind him, sniffing like he had smelt the best thing on earth.
“No worries kid, I’m just finishing up. Come take a seat. I have some left overs and I’m guessing his highness hasn’t eaten much yet.”
Zanka turned away sheepishly having been seen through so easily.
As the duo sat down, Gris finally addressed Zanka’s companion.
“And you are…?”
“Jabber sir! What have you got on the menu for us tonight?” He asked enthusiastically, obviously wanting to taste what he had smelt earlier.
Zanka was embarrassed by how unfiltered he talked, but Gris seemed to take no offense as he slid a plate towards both of them.
“Today we have crowned lamb, that is no longer crowned due to certain circumstances,” Gris threw in a small joke “paired with celery topped and creamed spinach.”
Jabber was starry-eyed while gazing upon the delicacy that sat atop of his plate.
“Enjoy your meal, though you’ll have to excuse me due to other steward matters I have to attend to.”
Zanka thanked him as he ruffled his hair slightly before leaving, making his crown sit lopsided.
When Zanka said his thanks and was about to start eating, he was met with the sight of Jabber’s cheeks stuffed to the brim, lips and hands coated in the buttery sauce and an almost empty plate in front of him.
“Oh my god… where are your manners Jabber!” Zanka tsked and slid a box of tissues his way before using his cutlery to eat his meal.
It was amazing. Gris was good at many things, but Zanka had to say his cooking topped any other skill he had.
Zanka made a mental note to give his compliments the next time he saw him.
While Zanka ate his meal Jabber wandered through the kitchen, inspecting each and every cupboard. Humming in appreciation if he saw something nice or staying quiet when nothing interesting popped up.
When Zanka was finished he took Jabber upstairs, where the left wing was made up of a library and a few guest rooms. They only briefly glanced into the space with archives, however Jabber already expressed his interest in the library. But since they were keeping the tour short, he didn’t get the time to truly appreciate all the books.
The right wing on the second floor was made up of Zanka’s room and more guest rooms.
“So that was the tour.” Zanka concluded.
“What? No, you didn’t show me the third floor or even your room! That’s what I call an incomplete tour Zanka.” Jabber shook his head in fake disappointment.
“Oh shut it. I never go upstairs and why the hell would you actually wanna go in my room creep.” Zanka explained himself.
Jabber pouted “Not fair, you’re being a bad host. Fine I won’t pry about your third floor but I will most definitely pry about your room. What are you hiding your highness? Is it maybe something inappropriate that you don’t-”
Zanka cut him off before he could get any more wrong ideas. “Ok fine! Just don’t touch anything.”
Zanka didn’t know why he even bothered to warn the guy when he’d probably touch every crevice of his room anyways.
“You’re the best Zan-zan!!” Jabber complemented, ecstatic that the fun wouldn’t end there.
Zanka faltered in his steps towards his room. “Zan-zan?”
“Yeah it’s a nickname, ever heard of it?” Jabber teased.
Zanka tch’ed but couldn’t help the heat rising to his cheeks. It was his first ever nickname!
He cleared his throat before opening a large dark oak wood door laced with intricate golden lines.
The two stepped inside and even though Jabber wowed he couldn’t help but feel nervous.
Two big windows were decorated with floral blue curtains, letting the soft moonlight illuminate the space. Immediately when you walked inside a small couch sat to the right, more for decoration than purpose but Zanka had spent some time on it while revising his material when his chair got too uncomfortable. In the middle was a round golden and black table, surrounded by two matching chairs, with a tea tray sitting on it. Still from that very morning when he had his morning tea.
In the square room the left wall had a vanity that was fairly empty, except for a stray paper or two, most of the things were stored away in the two drawers attached to it. Right next to it was his closet, compared to everything else it had a fairly simple design so there wasn’t much to dwell on, yet the casing next to it was eye-catching.
The object inside was the very stick that Zanka treasured as his favorite weapon, the one that made him trust a little more in his abilities when he had lost all hope.
On the other side of the desk was a door that Jabber would guess led to a bathroom as extravagant as his room. The center of his righter wall had his king sized bed, a fluffy bundle of light colored blankets and pillow that helped him unwind after every stressful day. His nightstand had a book and candle on it, used for his late night reading. The room was accessorized with so many different things, Jabber didn’t think he could through naming them all under an hour.
“This is awesome! And you get to sleep in this room every night?” Jabber walked through the room, dazed by all the things.
Zanka rolled his eyes, uneasy from having some person he met a few hours ago touring his private quarters. “Yeah, that’s how bedrooms work I suppose. Aren’t you a prince too? Isn’t your room just like this one?”
Jabber paused “I am a prince, just not one that asked for much space or things. I’d rather that go to my sisters.”
Zanka felt like there was more to unpack but he left it at that.
Zanka let Jabber have his fun exploring, expecting to be in and out in just a few minutes. But that dream was short lived when said man sat down at the foot of his bed on the ground.
“What the hell are you doing?” Zanka was starting to get ticked again, his patience wearing thin.
“Uh- sitting? Where else are we gonna hang without having other royals breathe down our neck?”
“Who said we were gonna hang out some more?” Even though the prince said that, he moved towards Jabber, plopping down a few inches away from him.
“You’re really funny, you know that?” Jabber kept his gaze locked on Zanka.
“Define ‘funny’.” Zanka didn’t return the eye contact, preferring to stare holes into Lovely that hung by his closet.
Jabber shrugged. “You say one thing, but always mean or do something else. Never seen someone so stubborn but willing.”
Zanka snorted. “Yeah whatever shakespear.”
Jabber laughed loudly.
That stupid laugh.
It became quiet for a good few minutes, something Zanka appreciated, but this silence was disturbed by the sound of something being pulled out of a cloth and a small box opening.
Zanka, ever so curious, turned to see what his companion was up to and safe to say he was appalled. Jabber had a self-rolled cigarette dangling in his mouth and held an unlit square lighter by the other end.
Zanka snatched the object from his mouth before he could light it. “What is wrong with you?! You are not going to smoke a cigarette in my room.”
Jabber pouted. “It’s not a cigarette and why not? With how big this room is you probably couldn’t smell it from the other end.”
Zanka felt his jaw drop wide. “This is weed?!”
He whisper-shouted as if someone would overhear them.
“Uh yeah? Why, does sir prince with a stick so far up his ass not condemn this behaviour?" Jabber looked bored.
“Of course I don’t! Father would have me beheaded in front of the entire kingdom if he were to find even a whiff of this on me!” Positive to say that the prince was fearing for his being.
“Should’ve known it was because of your title. Well sorry your majesty. I’ll get going, don’t want to soil your princelyness even more with my presence.” Jabber got up, shoving his lighter back in his pocket. “When are you going to start living the life you want? Not the one forced upon you?”
Normally he would brush off any comments on his life, people always had things to say, but this struck a deep nerve that Zanka didn’t even know he had. He hated to admit it but Jabber was right, when was the last time that he did something that wasn’t forced upon him, something that he wanted? I mean, here he was, escaping a banquet set up to find a wife he didn’t want to be crowned a title he didn’t want.
He felt like he finally realized that this would be the life he would live forever, stuck with duties and responsibilities he didn’t want.
It left a bitter taste in his mouth, one that he knew wouldn’t go away if he sat here alone for the rest of the night wallowing in his own self-pity.
In a moment of clarity, or stupidity, he reached out for Jabber’s wrist with his free hand, effectively stopping the man from leaving.
“Wait… y-you can stay and smoke here, I don’t mind.” Now that was a bold ass lie, whether he liked it or not he still cared for his image and this would soil it if anyone got word of it, but he just wanted one night where he chose something for himself.
Jabber scanned his face, for what Zanka didn’t know. Maybe he liked the humiliating pleading look in his eyes, but whatever it was worked because the outcast prince sat back down.
Jabber reached his open palm towards him, making a give motion.
Only then did Zanka realize that he still held the confiscated cig and promptly handed it back.
It was a little bent by the pressure that he forced upon it during his inner dilemma, but this didn’t seem to faze Jabber in the slightest as he just straightened it out a bit before using the same lighter to light it up.
Zanka sat curled in on himself, watching the process with mild curiosity. The way the smoke folded and curled in many ways when it drifted into the air mesmerized him. Though deep inside he knew it was more so the way that this situation was a product of his self-made choice than the actual smoke that mesmerized him.
The tanned boy expertly took five puffs, inhaling and exhaling, before holding the bud out to Zanka.
Zanka contemplated if he should really do this. It was one thing letting someone smoke weed in his room and it was another if he was the one actually doing it. But he wondered if the feeling of freedom would expand by doing more things on his own accord.
Fuck it, the prince leaned in, enclosing his mouth around the blunt that was still held by Jabber.
He took one big inhale, immediately coughing after, not expecting the intensity.
This drawled out chuckles from Jabber who patted his back during his little fit.
Zanka felt lightheaded. The smell that once surrounded him, was now found in his own mouth, making him taste it instead. And Zanka hated the way he didn’t hate it.
“The first time’s always tough, but when you get through it the taste is heavenly.” Jabber groaned. “I still remember my first time.” He reminisced, taking another drag before handing it back to Zanka.
“Take a three second normal inhale and hold it for five seconds before blowing it out.”
Zanka, now recovered from the first puff, brought it back to his lips a little more hesitant. He followed Jabber’s instructions and he still coughed a little but not as much as the first time.
“How long will it take to hit?” Zanka leaned back against the foot of the bed, bending his neck to look at Jabber.
“A few minutes.” Jabber took one last drag before stubbing it out on his hand, relishing in the small burn he felt.
His pleasure must have been obviously displayed on his face, because when he turned towards the prince, the boy’s face was warped in a disgusted expression.
“Damned masochist… can you get any weirder?”
Jabber leaned in closer, a smirk wide on his face. “I can show you all ways I get weird.”
When Jabber dropped his gaze for one second to his lips, Zanka realized what he meant and he flushed.
“You’re disgusting.” Zanka commented.
“I try.”
The same silence as before filled the space and once again was disrupted by the tanned boy.
“Why do you do all this?”
Zanka was confused. “All what?”
Jabber motioned with his hands “This. The prince act, taking on responsibilities and doing everything to live a life you so obviously don’t want.”
Zanka contemplated it, his head feeling like static all of a sudden. “i- uh, cause I have to… I got my chance to do something else but I was too weak to get it. An average joe like me should be ambitious and reach for things that are most definitely out of my reach.”
Zanka just word vomited something he would’ve never done in front of anyone else, realizing the high was taking place he sank further in on himself.
Now he really focused on it he felt like he was on cloud nine. Like he was seeing shapes and tasting colors, he wasn’t sure if he was moving or not because the world around him swayed.
“Average joe?” Zanka forced himself to focus on Jabber. “That’s bullshit. Only thinking like that is gonna hold you back, I’m sure when you get your head out of your arse you’ll see everything you can accomplish in your life.”
Zanka felt like Jabber dumped a bucket of water on him, not in a way of clarity but in a way of forcing him to feel everything he had been avoiding for so long.
So he did what he knew best, deflect. “Oh please, even if I were to spar with the army’s best right now I wouldn’t win.”
It was just the brutal truth, yet Jabber wasn’t gonna take it sitting down, literally. Jabber jumped up and started jumping around in a way people did to warm themselves up.
Zanka stared at him like he was a circus performer doing backflips on a tightrope while riding an elephant.
“Let’s spar right now.”
“...huh?”
Zanka was thoroughly confused. Did he want to spar because of what Zanka said about losing to his brother?
Jabber’s warming up ceased, instead bouncing slightly from left to right, clearly having too much energy in his body. His tainted red eyes didn’t leave Zanka’s for even a second, his magenta eyes piercing his blue ones, dissecting his entire being.
Before Zanka knew it, Jabber’s energy infected him as he found himself standing up and stretching his arms. The clothes they were in were less than ideal to fight in, such fancy clothing would probably burst at the seams with extreme movement. But what the hell, why not? The Zanka from a few hours ago would’ve never agreed, but seems like he was rethinking a lot since meeting Jabber.
Plus he hated to admit it, but he really wanted to see Jabber get his ass kicked (and if his heart fluttered at the thought of it it would be only his little secret).
Zanka ducted his abilities, even more so now that the world seemed a tad bit brighter, but he guessed it would be even since Jabber’s also probably tripping out.
And even though Zanka doubted that Jabber was at the same level in fighting as Hyo, he at least wished to beat him cause he thinks he might actually crawl into a well and never come out again. Never facing his duties or others ever again.
“So what are the rules?” Zanka being the ever so rule follower asked. Jabber started the fight so he should be able to choose the rules.
Jabber thought for a second before shrugging “The winner wins by knocking the other to the ground. And you can do everything, but hold back.”
This made Zanka pause. This meant that everything was on the table and knowing Jabber in these past few hours he knew that that was a big risk.
“Wait what-”
“Start!”
Jabber cut him off, rushing towards the poor boy, catching him off guard. His first thought was to take a swing to his unprotected ribs, thus making him collapse, giving him the chance to deal a blow to his head with a kick.
But to his delight, Zanka predicted this and twisted to the right angle, stopping the blow by grasping his arm and moving with the motion which threw the boy off balance.
In the time of this small stumble, Zanka quickly lifted his leg gaining momentum before trying to kick him to the ground.
Zanka flinched when his leg was stopped by his hard grip, rings digging into his shin uncomfortable.
“You having rings isn’t fair.”
“Wasn’t against the rules, your highness.”
Zanka knew he should’ve thought of the rules or at least some since there were none.
He snapped out of his mind trailing when he realized that Jabber was about to whip his leg from under him which would cause him to stumble to the ground.
Jabber saw that opening and was ready to win, he shot his leg out, putting all his strength into the kick.
The boy was left dumbfounded when Zanka timed it so perfectly that when his kick made contact that he’d twist and hold himself on his hands, the one leg still in the tanned boy’s grip twisting too.
“Look at chu’!”
Jabber was positively hard.
The way Zanka moved was different than most. If he had to explain it it would be like comparing his moves to graceful swans and others like brash lions. Zanka’s movement was precise and calculated, so much so that he deflected whatever Jabber threw at him.
As they moved around the room in the fighting frenzy, narrowly avoiding obstacles like his desk and tea table, no clear winner had yet been decided.
They moved as if they were dancing, but if one were doing ballroom dancing and the other folk dance. But tying together in a beautifully dirty tango.
Between missed kicks and landed punches, Jabber lost track where he stood and before he knew it the bed was right behind him and he tripped pathetically on the rug underneath in, crashing backwards onto it.
Zanka, only seeing his win, followed him down, pinning his hips down by sitting on him with his knees on both sides and hands pressed hard into the mattress under the two.
“I win.”
For a moment it was quiet, faces mere inches apart, heavy breaths intermingling. Their hair were done out of the hour long styling, their clothes were stretched and faint bruises decorated their cheeks.
After the adrenaline of the fight got out of his system Zanka couldn’t think straight, not when he only sees his impossible eyes and panting mouth.
Jabber seemed to be in the same boat, his arms coming up to Zanka’s neck, wrapping around them as an invitation.
But Zanka hesitated.
This would change everything. His choosing for his future beloved, his kingly duties being done by his filthy hands, the way his family would look at him if they knew… god how the whole kingdom would look at him if they knew.
He would be treated just like Jabber… an outcast.
Jabber’s voice echoed softly in their shared space. “You can’t have anything… so take control. Choose this. Choose me.”
And fuck, that did it for Zanka.
He leaned down, kissing Jabber with everything he got.
When Jabber looked like this and talked to him like that, he would gladly be an outcast if it meant to stay by his heavenly side.
Their lips moved nothing like Zanka read about in the silly romance novels he dabbled in when bored. In those they would describe butterflies erupting while they shared a soft kiss, pulling away after mere seconds as if that was enough.
No this was messy. He felt as if someone lit him on fire. Their lips moved passionately, almost aggressively and it didn’t look like they were gonna stop anytime soon.
Zanka prodded his tongue against his lips, easily gaining access before completely devouring him. He wanted to learn every curve of every tooth, where his sharp canines started and where his rounded molars ended. And don’t get him started on the way his tongue felt against his, it felt so full and warm that Zanka was scared that he might never want to pull away.
But sadly, being human made him need air, so before he knew it he leaned back for air but not straying far from the other.
Their eyes met again before his eyes dipped to his mouth. It looked so plump and glossed over, something that made Zanka uncontrollably proud for some reason, a smirk drawing on his features.
He brought one of his hands to the others lips, tracing the bottom lip with his thumb.
Zanka dipped the digit slightly in the opened mouth, holding his jaw in place and to his surprise Jabber sucked on it with no hesitation.
“Freak.”
Zanka groveled at the little whine and the way his brows scrunched together as if he had called Jabber a human painted by the gods (with those looks he may as well be).
Zanka relished a bit more on the way Jabber sucked his thumb before removing it and using it to trace his jaw.
His eyes darted up to the headboard of his bed, cause with the way they were currently seated, what Zanka was hoping to do wouldn’t be possible.
Lucky for him Jabber got the hint and moved backwards, sliding himself from under the prince and instead leaning with his back against the board.
Zanka crawled up to him as Jabber excitedly started opening his tailcoats buttons.
He only got up to three before Zanka was back on his mouth. Not wasting this chance, he brought his arms back around his neck. This time Zanka planted one hand in his locks while the other trailed his waist up and down, making the man under him shiver at the touch.
What felt like too soon, Zanka started to pull away, but Jabber reeled him back in with his arms, clearly not done yet with the onslaught of kisses. This resulted in his scalp being pulled which caused him to release an embarrassing groan.
Zanka only paused for a second to comment. “Damn masochist.”
He redirected his focus to his bare neck and half uncovered chest, starting from the top, slowly moving down he sucked hickeys into every space he could, accompanied by bites that made the man's boner under him become unbearable.
“You’re n-not much better, sadist-!”
Zanka bit deeper the moment the words left his mouth, humming in satisfaction as he felt Jabber grind up against his own boner.
“You’re right, I’m not.”
Zanka sat up, taking off his expensive top and tossing it onto the ground as if it weren’t so. In the meantime Jabber finished the last two buttons he had started on earlier, throwing the cloth in the same general direction.
Zanka leaned back down, kissing now trailing even lower till they met the waist bands of the pants.
He looked up at Jabber, throwing a questioning look while tracing the button with his tongue. And fuck, just when Jabber felt like his erection couldn’t get worse, he was delightfully proven wrong. The way Zanka stared up, back arched much like a cat’s, eyes glossed and tainted with a devilish look. Topped off with a crown that sat crooked in his messy hair and somehow hadn't fallen off after everything... he really felt like he hit the jackpot.
Jabber brought one hand to his hair while the other came to his mouth, muffling the needy groan as he nodded.
Without waiting any longer Zanka pulled down his pants.
—
The morning light streamed through the unclosed windows, painting the room in a domestic manner. Were anyone to walk into his room, they would very much so say it was quite the domestic scene; two lovebirds sleeping side by side after their first night together.
Zanka, being used to waking up early, mumbled something incomprehensible into his arms before sitting up, rubbing his face with little to no enthusiasm.
When he got himself to wake up a little more, something felt off. His body had this faint ache that could be compared to the one he felt after a day of training, yet on the other hand felt completely different.
Once his eyes got used to the light, he glanced around. Nothing was different except for the clothes strewn messily on the ground… even in his half awake state he could see that he did not wear that blazer yesterday.
His head whipped around to the owner’s body which was snoozing away next to him as if he hadn’t just altered Zanka’s entire life with just one night.
Memories flooded his mind when he saw the state of the naked man covered in all types of marks, some way deeper and more aggressive than others.
Jabber, as if sensing his gaze, began to stir.
“Fuck.”