Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

—Ownage—

Peace, quiet, and comfort were all Lord Ownage ever knew.

Silent nights spent outside, gently braiding his mare's mane. She sighed and rested her head on the soft grass below, closing her eyes in bliss. Gold was what he ended up calling her. He knew it was basic, but it was a very defining name. Her coat shimmered in the light, making for a perfect golden look. Almost like a moving statue.

Only someone of royal status could own a horse so majestic, Ownage thought. And it was so perfect. Red and gold were the kingdom's colors, each guard was decked out in shiny acents that showed just who they belonged to. Ownage always, always wore red, intricate outfits that took way too long to put on and way too long to take off.

The night carried on, Lord gently stroked along her back, looking wearily at the moon.

"I'm exhausted, Gold. But I don't want to miss the stars. I'm so jealous of you, you know? Able to be outside all the time, I hate sneaking out." He spoke softly, careful not to startle her. Gold let out a huff of breath. "Really!? Well, see if I ever open up to you again," he chuckled.

A sudden loud shout from the front gates had him jerking up, Gold following suit. Tons of men in armor were gathering, bright torches and weapons at the ready. Those were not their soldiers: they didn't wear such... hideous armor!

Gods, what did he do?! Soon they'd spot him as clear as day, sitting powerless in the grazing field.

Hurried, he stood quickly, the mare let out a loud whinny in surprise. Ownage desperately tried to shush the poor horse, only for her to completely lose her composure. Gold began to gallop around the field, kicking and neighing as Ownage watched in horror. Ah, yes, he'd earned the attention from practically all the soldiers.

As they all began to walk over to see the absolute mess going on in the back field, they also saw the prince. The young man froze, brain traveling not much faster than a snail. Oh Gods, seriously, what could he do?

"They might be one of the royals we're after! Get them!" The one at the very front pointed an accusing finger in his direction, and a small chunk of the men broke off, sprinting towards the small fence.

Ownage held down a terrified cry and unfroze instantly, darting backwards. His long legs dashed through the massive field at a fast pace. But was he to match these well trained soldiers, built for running and fighting and capturing? He had no idea, but he had to run. Hop the fence into the darkness of the tall forest. He wanted to live, the prince knew what happened to royals once they got captured. Torture, execution, but mostly pain of loss. His family put through the that pain felt like strangulation to him, and it hadn't even happened yet.

How could his evening go this poorly? From relaxing with his best friend to actively running for his life!? Ownage couldn't die at 23, that was way too young. Not to mention, he wanted to be a king, lead his people into a brighter future. Now? That looked nigh impossible. When he looked over his shoulder, he could see the outline of the castle fading away.

Ownage just kept running, turning all sorts of directions and zigzagging through sharp bushes that tore on his fancy attire.

He looked back to see one of the soldiers had made it behind his tracks, following close on his tail. Now if he could lose this one... it would be amazing. Ignore the pain blossoming in his ankles—just keep moving. This man was far too close to being able to grab him, and too skilled at dodging any sharp branches or bushes.

"Holy—fucking hell! No one told me that a royal could run so fast!" The man was so close, he could see the colors he wore faintly underneath the moonlight that glimmered down between the trees. Purple and silver. Oh, Gods. That kingdom...

The rumors were enough for bile to make its presence known, churning in his stomach. Ruthless murderers, taking all the land they wanted, slaughtering all the people who opposed them. His parents warned about them at the dinner table, making his appetite diminish the more they spoke about the horrid kingdom of Vere.

Did they finally set their gaze on the sunshine land? Sol had always been a giant kingdom, how could they be overtaken now?

Ownage had been in his own head for too long, so he didn't notice the man behind him finally able to catch up. A rough hand yanked him backwards by his collar, forcing a shriek out of his throat. His body collided with the soldier's own, sending them both to the ground. Ownage immediately tried to stand up, only to be put into a headlock. Terror rose up his back like a snake, slithering through his ribs and up his neck, tightening with every second. It hurt. Or was it the arms locking his head in place?

"Stop struggling! Oh for Vere's sake..." he groaned, "you're a prince, right? We're not after you. You did nothing wrong, you won't be put to death," the man above explained, ignoring the horribly pained sounds coming from the prince below.

"Argh—ah! That hurts, stop!" He cried out, not used to such pain.

"I'll stop once you promise you won't skitter off again!"

"I promise! I promise!" He nearly sobbed out, letting his body go pliant.

Instantly, the painful grip let go, and Ownage crawled away from him, rubbing at his jaw. The soldier made sure he didn't run, approaching quickly to get a thick rope tied around his wrists that he could hold. Tears ran thick down his cheeks, shallow sobs emitted from his person.

The man cupped his jaw, making him look up into his eyes, his face flushed red and panting. "Look at me, you'll be alright. Okay? Nothing but, okay prince?"

Lord Ownage couldn't make himself believe him, looking dully at the grass below.

"I promise. Come with me back to our camp and you'll be just fine." He held out a hand for the other to take, waiting patiently for him to come to. With no other choice, he reached up with tethered hands, letting himself be hoisted up onto his feet. No move was made to undo the rope, which was already burning into his skin. "My name is HugeDeer, but you can just call me Lieutenant or Deer. I don't care."

Ah. He was a lieutenant, but he didn't act like the one Ownage knew. He'd briefly spoken with Sol's, arrogance seeped through that man, drenching all of his words in a selfish sticky syrup. But this... Lieutenant Deer had confidence, his words were determined but soothing to hear. His voice sounded like a gentle earthquake in Ownage's ears.

He finally really looked at the lieutenant before him, eyes widening in shock at what he saw.

"You're a—"

"Deer hybrid? Yeah, I am." Lieutenant Deer stood proudly, hands on his hips.

"I thought those were just mythology! I... wow." Momentarily, the lieutenant before him had made his eyes sparkle and forget what was happening with this news: hybrids and anthros weren't myths.

"You can touch if you want." Deer tilted his head down, even if it wasn't necessary. Ownage was 6'3 and growing, making him taller than the military man.

Oh well, he was NOT going to pass this chance up. He reached up to gently touch the antlers atop his head, feeling the fluff of his ears too.

"Gods, you're so fluffy!!" Deer had taken on an awkward look at the continued admiration. Ownage noticed his discomfort and stepped back, an apologetic look on his face. "I apologize, I got... carried away." Years of being unable to speak to others could do that to a man.

Lieutenant Deer nodded before gesturing to the forest. Unease immediately entered Ownage's stomach again at the thought of going with him to their camp. At least this man seemed trust worthy, even though his wrists were bound in front of him.

"I'm Ownage, by the way," he said. Sadly, he supposed his first name wasn't true anymore—he wasn't the Lord of anything now. It cut him deep to know that they had most likely taken their kingdom, and adopted their God into their own culture as well.

Deer hadn't responded to his name, leading him out of the forest in 15 minutes. Damn, he really did run far. Eventually, they found a giant camp set up by the army just outside the castle gates. They were still setting up tents and tending to the nightmarish wounds their comrades had sustained. The air was thick with some sort of... static? The air felt sparkly, and an odd energy underneath his skin welled up.

"Your highness! I have found a prince." Lieutenant Deer lead him over to a man equally as tall as Ownage, but way more thick with facial hair and muscles. The prince couldn't look away from the display in front of him, in elegant clothing, long hair braided carefully. His giant sword rested against his thigh, always at the ready. This was Prince Kihec in all his glory. This was the man he'd heard gruesome stories told about the many wars he's been through and thrived in.

The mark on his cheek was an exceedingly rare one, granting him incredible strength a regular mortal could only dream of. He could bend unenchanted metals—bend metal!—crush someone's skull with his bare hands, and had access to a wide variety of spells.

The general was... imposing, to say the least. His gaze held tons of tension, the eyes of a general weren't to be messed with. Indeed, he was a general as much as he was a prince. The gift of strength was too good to pass up for the Vere family.

"A prince?" Oh, his voice was a lot lighter than Ownage imagined it would be, sounding surprised. "I was told there was a princess, no prince here."

Lieutenant Deer shrugged. "Well, he's got a mark on his neck. It's a bit odd though." The general raised an eyebrow at that, glancing down at the man desperately avoiding eye contact with him.

Ownage's chin was raised up by his hand, gentler than he could imagine. Fingers pressed on the mark that he'd borne for his entire life. The mark he was told was too weak to conjure any magic from the spellbooks. The mark his parents said made him a "target".

It sent a tingle through his body and he gritted his teeth, the static in the air got more intense when subjected to the general's touch.

His mark had always been strange. He'd read books on various godly marks, which also called them "runes". Gods chose their designs and poured as little or as much power into it as they saw fit. This meant you could be either really powerful, or you could have the power to clean floors extremely fast. The latter wasn't very helpful when one led an entire kingdom.

The rune on his neck wasn't just an outline of a sun—no, it was colorful, shaded in beautifully with the colors of sunrise. It took up a good chunk of his neck, nestled on his right side.

He'd been told the colors reflected his soul more than his magic. His soul was as bright as the sun, and he had no idea what that meant.

General Kihec looked conflicted, tracing the ever-sensitive spot as though he'd never seen anything like it. The colors blended in with each other similar to paint on a canvas, shining even in the moonlight when the weary Sol rested her eyes.

Without warning, the general reeled his hand back, analyzing his palm. What was he doing? He shook his head and addressed him directly.

"Prince, you will stay here with us, and you are to travel to Vere alongside our brigade." He spoke with such tenor, the shiver that traveled up his arm went unnoticed by most surrounding them with curiosity.

Ownage noticed, but couldn't find words to say. Where are his parents right now? He didn't want to traverse for an entire week, hell, he didn't want to leave the comfort of the castle.

An ice cold sensation took over his body—wait, he was outside of the castle gates. He wasn't confined into the plentiful walls created by his long-dead ancestors, he could walk around with freedom in his step.

In reality, Prince Ownage was in a weird limbo of not being treated like a prisoner, but he believed himself one. Separating from his peaceful land felt like leaving half his heart. Imaginably, if he argued against the general he would be put to death immediately. It made him uneasy just thinking about it.

The air around the general felt muted yet far too much for Ownage. Darkness followed him everywhere, and he was not fond of the dark.

Ownage caught sight of a tall, pale figure walking towards him. So pale that he could see the person having a skin disorder. Pure white hair that clumped atop of his head, similar to a bird's nest, silver clothing tainted with blood.

"Prince! There's a tent set up over here, follow me." He waved over the bound prince, turning to a tent and opening the flap. It was much bigger than other tents around it, containing enough space for a regular sized man to stand. Ownage, unfortunately, still had to crouch down. "My name is Buodq. I don't have an impressive title except for being somewhat apart of His Highness's inner circle, so Buodq is fine."

"The general's inner circle?" Ownage asked.

"Yeah, His Highness has a close circle of trusted men. I'm kinda new, but I think he trusts my abilities."

Did Ownage have a close circle similar to that?

No, his companions were the pets he owned and his caretakers when he was younger. As he grew into a young man, even they began to fade, their orders reaching him less often. Left on his own, he yearned to walk around, talk to someone different.

The only glimpse he'd gotten of the city came from his windowsill, viewing the tops of brightly painted houses. He saw the light from the lanterns glimmer gently in the night, filling his chest with longing.

Ownage never understood why his parents forbade him from leaving palace grounds, repeating the dangers of the outside world like a broken record.

The Sunspire stood tall above all the architecture, collecting all the beams that came with sunrise. Ownage stood tall, yet felt lesser than anyone at the same time.

"I see." He should say more—should be more, but he found it impossible to vocalize. Damn it.

With no other place to go, he sat on the bedroll, rubbing his temples slowly. In his peripheral vision, he saw the shorter man roll another bedroll out and raised his head.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Making sure you don't do anything stupid," Buodq replied, a hint of mirth in his eyes.

It pissed Ownage off in an odd way, it wasn't meant in a rude way, more like caring. His voice just... irked him.

"I wouldn't. Um... hey, Buodq?" he spoke awkwardly, "could I take a walk around the city sometime?"

Buodq grinned, smoothing out the edges of his temporary bed. "Not without me, no. I gotta watch you, dude. His Majesty's orders."

The prince rolled his eyes. "Genius, I was totally thinking of going alone. I... I might get lost." He bit his lip.

"Get lost? You're literally the prince! Why would you get lost in your own city?" Buodq stared, stunned. "I think His Highness could navigate Vere with his eyes closed and his hands bound!"

This gave Ownage pause, and he lifted his gaze to meet Buodq's eyes. He read sappy books on forbidden romance religiously, and the male love interests always abandoned their cities, vying for the princess of the other kingdom. Ownage never cared for such things and couldn't imagine turning his back on Sol for a woman, no matter how kind or beautiful.

Ironic, isn't it? He was leaving Sol for a different kingdom. The stakes were high for his life; the situation, however, was much worse than a beautiful woman leading him astray.

"I... I haven't been out of the palace since I can remember," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

The soldier's jaw dropped; it was so low that Ownage thought it might detach. Of course Ownage knew something was wrong. His parents always avoided his questions, spouting statements that had been said hundreds of times before: danger. Caution. Obedience. They gave him endless amounts of what-ifs, so he was expected to take on their cautious attitude as well.

"Holy shit! Not once did they let you out?! Not even for a walk around the shops? This is why you want to go for a walk around?" He contemplated for a second. "We could go together in the afternoon, you'll have food before we walk, don't worry."

Ownage shifted on the bedroll, slipping under the fur lining. He didn't need to respond, nodding in place of words. Now that he started to relax, his body came down from its high. Aches and pains erupted all over his body, reminding him of the last chaotic 30 minutes. His jaw felt like one big bruise, did Lieutenant Deer need to use that much force on him?

Rest sounded perfect right now, even with a person watching over him. But there was a dull sense of trust between him and Buodq, he didn't expect anything disastrous to come from him. Ownage allowed himself to close his eyes, letting exhaustion take over.

—Kihec—

Taking over Sol was unexpectedly easy for the lands that were locked down. Travel to Sol nearly impossible after their borders shut, but the King and Queen were not at fault. A debilitating illness struck across the entire nation, affecting rural and urban folks alike. Kihec suspected that it was a weaker form of the corruption, able to be purged out of a person's system unlike true corruption. Once it was there, it stayed.

They closed shop, discontinuing a majority of allied trade, travel, and sealed their docks. Sol lived off their own manufacturing and agriculture for a long time. Then reportedly... it disappeared. The sickness gone without a trace, as if it never existed in the first place.

Kihec exhaled, brushing dirt from his cloak. The damn thing didn't know when to stop collecting it. He'd been attempting to pry information about the illness out of the King and Queen for ages, and even generals get tired. Neither budged, keeping their mouths sealed shut. He also tried asking about Ownage, receiving defensive, suspicious glares.

Finally, for his own health, he decided enough was enough and stalked to his royal tent. Large enough to stand in and insulated from the freezing night. Kihec laid on his thick straw bedroll, heavy woolen blanket haphazardly tossed over his body.

There was a lot to do, and not enough time to finish it.

Morning came too soon, and Kihec swore the sun just shined brighter in these lands. It pierced through the tent like a spear, aggravating his eyes to no end. Quiet conversations broke his last straw, and he threw the tent flap open. Sunlight grew even stronger on his eyes, forcing him to squint.

"Prince, what's up your ass today?" A familiar brunette was sat next to a giant pot, stirring in slow circles. An amused and concerned grin rested on his face.

"Those royals refused to tell me shit, thats what's wrong!" he spoke, voice rough with irritation, "wasted about an hour on them. If you knew how much I want to kill them, you'd keep me in my tent for the rest of our stay here."

"I know, but there's that prince. Gods know where he popped up from. What I'm wondering is the existence of this so-called princess that we've yet to find," he hummed, a thoughtful look taking up his face, "unless it was a translation error and it's Ownage?"

Kihec kicked dust up from the ground, imagining it was those useless royals. "Well, we know we can't ask the Crown. Fucking useless..." A rock skidded to the man occupying the pot, who narrowed his eyes at the general.

"Stop acting like a baby. Do you need a binky?" he teased softly, avoiding angering him further, "Your Highness, come evaluate this soup. It's sourced from the locals farms, vegetable soup." He offered up the ladle, allowing Kihec to take a sip of the boiling hot soup.

The prince is impervious to burning heat, unable to injure himself with any temperature. He took a sip, chewing bits of vegetable.

"Amazing, right? These shops have high quality crops." Kihec nodded in agreement, returning the ladle.

"Great, lets wait until everyone's awake, Frostie."

The man, Frostie, sat back on his heels. The prince took a seat beside him, forming a plan in his head. Today would be easier than tomorrow, as he'd taken the responsibility of looking after their guest. Buodq reported back to him that Ownage had desires to tour around the city. Kihec wanted to leave a good impression, momentarily switching roles with Buodq.

Buodq was better at speaking, possibly he could get some answers out of the stubborn pair. Kihec was putting an unusual level of trust in a new person, considering that Buodq joined his fleet to Sol only a month prior.

"Listen, Prince. I get that you want Sol's prince to trust you, but are you sure Buodq can be trusted?" Frostie asked, setting out dishes taken from the royal dining hall.

"The truth is, I have no other option." His voice turned melancholy. "Usually I'd send Dario, but he..." Kihec trailed off, unable to unlodge the words from his throat.

Frostie already knew. He had been one of the first to notice Dario's absence.

"Please tell me it's not true, please, Kihec. Where is he? You're fucking lying, please tell me." Kihec could still sense the tugging on his cloak, Frostie hanging onto him as if he were a lifeline.

Kihec himself couldn't begin to offer comfort. He'd gently propped Dario up against a tree and returned to their camp in silence. The look on the prince's face told Frostie all he needed to know, Dario's missing presence only hammered the nail in further.

Frostie broke down into a sobbing mess, demanding to see his lover. Kihec would never say no, especially not to someone so loyal.

By the time Lieutenant Deer and Buodq brought Dario back, Frostie had calmed to silent tears. He sat beside the body for a while, pleading for him to come back. When it was time for him to separate, Kihec had to step in to pry him off Dario's corpse.

It all happened so fast. One moment he and Colonel Dario were horsing around and laughing; the next, Kihec was pulling an enchanted arrow from his skull.

The Colonel was long gone. And everyone in their ranks felt the same cold spiraling up their spines. Kihec considered turning the army around and retreating to Vere, as this loss was entirely unexpected. Progress halted for an entire week, morale greatly damaged.

The general spent hours in the dense forest that lined Sol's eastern border. He had no idea if the pig who murdered his colonel still lingered in these woods. He flipped the entire forest upside down until he found a deserted camp. Only a worn tent and a campfire remained. A bow rested on the log beside the campfire, enchanted with piercing.

Even holding it sent rage pulsing through his blood. Someone or something planned for him to find the murder weapon.

And they would regret it.

Just then, Kihec became aware of the silence between him and the healer. Frostie's whole promise to heal Dario whenever he was hurt burned to ash, and reliving it in his head wouldn't do him any good.

"What's wrong?" a new voice sliced through the tension. Prince Ownage stood just a few meters away.

Kihec released the fist he'd made without his knowledge, facing Ownage. He tutted and shook his head.

"Don't concern yourself with our issues. Here." He poured out some soup into a bowl, offering it to the worried man. "Eat."

Ownage bowed his head and accepted the bowl, gingerly taking a sip of the scalding liquid. He winced at the burn on his tongue, but he clearly enjoyed the taste.

"This is really well made! Did you make this?" Prince Ownage addressed Frostie, dragging him out of the dark place in his mind.

The healer looked surprised. "I—well... I did. Thank you?"

Kihec watched the earnest exchange between the two. It felt like the sun had risen over the horizon and bathed them in her light. Or in this case, his light. Usually, after remembering Dario, Frostie needed a few hours to recuperate.

Now... Frostie gave Ownage a warm smile, pouring another bowl for the general. "Thank you, Prince of Sol. You are much nicer than this rat." He pointed at Kihec. "Ungrateful."

Ownage laughed, sitting beside the general, who made an indignant sound.

"Pardon?! You dare speak of me so poorly in front of our guest?!" The general whined at the healer, taking a large sip of his soup.

This only sent Ownage into another laughing fit, having to put his bowl down to prevent any spills. Kihec also set his bowl down, crossing his arms and turning his chin up.

"Look, Frostie! He's laughing at me! At me!" Despite his protests, he was relieved to see Ownage relaxing.

Kihec was worried about the other prince's view on him, he wasn't in a very friendly mood last night, after all. Entitled royalty nearly sent him into a fit of rage, and he was barely managing to get his reins.

Thankfully, Ownage seemed unnervingly trusting.

Kihec was, admittedly, forcing him to leave his home. He knew that. But for Ownage to willingly settle down and be at ease, soaking up the morning sun? It was completely unanticipated on Ownage's part. It raised a question in the general's mind.

Did he really need to work this hard to gain his trust, or was there already some there? Ah, maybe Ownage fears he might put him to death and is overcompensating with friendliness? If that is the case, Kihec needed him to stop coating his words in sugar.

Any other general would've left him out to dry the second he grew comfortable.

In truth, Kihec couldn't read the prince at all. In fact, it was difficult for him to read anyone's emotions, let alone someone entirely new.

Luckily, the solution to his issue sat beside him.

"Prince," he addressed Ownage, "I apologize for acting so... obtuse last night."

No, damn it. Wrong word.

"Actually—strained," he corrected quickly. "I was exhausted last night and I might have come off as a little more brooding than I intended."

What the hell. Kihec felt the urge to stand up and walk away after a stumble that spectacular.

"I thought you looked cool, sword resting against your thigh and all that." Ownage's mouth curved upward, easily accepting the apology without needing exact words.

General Kihec forgot his stumble momentarily, chest swelling with pride. He looked cool—standing before him, quite possibly sizing him up. Somehow, despite his harsh look, Ownage said he'd looked cool.

"Oh," he said, "I see."

Stop beating around the bush.

"Prince," Kihec blurted out, "why are you so trusting of me?"

Gods, his mouth was having a bad morning.

Ownage looked staggered at the sudden question, tilting his head to the side. "Lieutenant Deer told me I wouldn't face anything like that. He seemed trustworthy to me so I followed him back. Then I met you, a strong, powerful general who handled me carefully. I went to bed bound at the wrists, and woke up unbound. And now we're here, having this conversation. I do trust you," he spoke in earnest.

"That's—oh. Thank you for your trust." He cleared his throat.

He hesitated before speaking carefully, "I wanted to be the one to accompany you into the city, just in case. You never know what could happen, anyway."

Truthfully, Kihec wasn't so worried about him running off anymore.

"What happened to Buodq?" he asked, fingers tapping rhythmically on the bowl.

"Nothing, I just thought that it would make for an easier day. You don't seem like the type to act up."

Did that seem strange?

If it did, the prince didn't let him know. He only finished his meal and created a new pile of dirty dishes.

"Ah—I started it... Frostie, I'll come by later and help wash the plates!" he called out over his shoulder, heading back in the direction of his tent.

Guess that was the end of their conversation.

The general's eyes followed Ownage back to his tent, lingering until he disappeared into the entrance.

"So," Frostie said, propping his chin in his hand, a knowing grin spreading across his face, "what was that all about?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb. You sounded so stupid, stumbling over your words. That's not something you do around royalty." The healer pointed out. "You make it your mission to appear better than other princes."

"I did not. Also, Frostie, when have I ever tried that?" He paused. "I also don't see why that's relevant."

Frostie rolled his eyes, passing another bowl to a soldier. "Right. And you bringing Ownage back to Vere isn't a big change?"

"I know it's new." Kihec admitted. "Bringing someone, especially other royalty, is unheard of. But that rune on his neck has me thinking."

"Prince, I have a question." He didn't wait for approval, continuing immediately. "Does he have a choice? What would you do if he didn't want to join us on our journey back to Vere?"

That's something the general had trouble trying to find a solution to. The best course of action would be to just leave him in Sol, but that would mean having no answers to his mark.

No matter how he framed it, they needed Ownage.

"We'll see what he says." The prince said quietly, unsure of himself. "I—I will give him a choice."

"General," the healer spoke softly, "I'm not gonna lie to you. Ownage seems like a good man for you."

Frostie winked at him before turning to give the soldiers he was serving his full attention.

The head of the army wordlessly stared at the back of Frostie's head, jaw hanging open. A good man for him? Was he suggesting another right-hand man to replace Dario? He wasn't quite following.

No matter. Frostie's words didn't truly mean anything. Besides, he had a few things to return to Ownage.

On second thought—Kihec was certain he'd seen a noble bathhouse sitting in one of the richer districts. Perhaps he could wash the stench of blood off his body there.

Shit. He couldn't keep Ownage waiting for an escort.

A wash and a change of clothes could benefit them both, emotionally and physically. Noble bathhouses were usually empty in Vere, which was a strange contrast to the amount of wealth shared. There were a ton of well-off people in Vere, meaning they had their own private bathrooms, wards included.

Maybe Sol was the same. If so, taking Ownage with him for a cleanse wouldn't be so bad.

A soldier approached his tent, arms straining beneath a basket overflowing with silk. Kihec's shoulders loosened at the sight. Gratefully, he accepted the basket, checking its contents to be sure everything he requested for was present. He waved the soldier away, accepting his bow.

"Thanks, you may return to the Lieutenant."

He waited until the person was gone before slipping into his tent. These were clothes he would never wear, hence why they were for another prince who would.

Fuck. Why hadn't he just had them directly delivered to Ownage?

He stared down at the basket, cursed under his breath, then gathered his courage and picked it up again. He'd spoken to Ownage already today, but this felt was different. Inviting someone out to a bathhouse was an activity mainly good friends—or couples—enjoyed together.

Then again, Ownage wouldn't know what friends and lovers did.

Kihec halted abruptly, realizing he stood just outside of the Prince of Sol's tent.

What now? Did he call out to him? What did he even say as he offered him the basket taken from his personal quarters—containing ten fancy pairs of royal attire?

Without warning, the tent unzipped with a 'whoosh' and he was face to face with Ownage. The prince looked surprised to see him, but still gave him a warm smile.

"Is it time to go?" he asked.

"Yes—before we take a full tour around downtown, there's a noble bathhouse I wish to visit. You will come along, as you are..." He hesitated, clearing his throat. "Dirty too."

"Oh." Ownage tilted his head, Kihec was beginning to recognize his body language. "I guess so, but why can't we use the ones in the castle?"

"Our soldiers are using those," Kihec explained. "And we are royalty. I wouldn't subject you to those unclean baths."

He handed over the basket, allowing Ownage a look inside.

"...My clothes?" Ownage pulled out a neatly folded pair of black trousers, red and gold charms lining the pockets.

From the look on the man's face, he was genuinely overjoyed. Ownage recognized them instantly, clutching the fabric close to his chest.

"Thank you! Gods, I've been worrying about these." He gestured to his ruined suit, brushing a tear that exposed his thigh. "I was going to ask for some new clothes, but this—this is perfect. Thank you."

Kihec bit his lip and fiddled with his cloak. Words evaded him again—his traitorous eyes kept sweeping down to the torn trousers. Indeed, he would need to mend them. Or, maybe he could commission something remarkably elegant.

"Shall we go?" he asked once the bearer of the colorful mark was done sifting through the basket.

"Yep! I'm gonna wear these." Ownage held up a white button-up and the same black trousers, their charms glimmering.

The general raised an eyebrow, not openly judging but questioning. The outfit the prince had picked out didn't look very royal. It looked much more like a common man's loose-fitting work clothes.

"I don't want to ruin any of my other clothes. Plus, these are comfortable!" Ownage exclaimed, stretching out the black fabric to demonstrate the fit.

"I see, that's fine." Prince Kihec gently took the basket from him, neatly arranging the clothes. "Let's go, shall we?"

Before he could stop himself, he extended his hand.

Ownage looked at his outstretched arm, a contemplative expression blessing his face.

He looks handsome when lost in thought, Kihec noted.

"..."

"..."

Kihec eventually came to the conclusion that the Prince of Sol was not going to take his hand, despite the odd flicker of hope lingering in the back of his mind. He gave an awkward smile and began to retract it.

Suddenly, Ownage moved, hurriedly sliding his fingers in between Kihec's own. A furious flush crept up his neck, and he had to avert his eyes.

"I'm sorry—I was just thinking," he said, keeping his eyes glued to the floor, deliberately avoiding their intertwined hands.

They walked in silence for a few moments, Kihec admiring the adorable blush warming Ownage's cheeks. He tightened his hold on him, confidence seeping back into him.

"I understand. You may not be accustomed to Vere's customs yet."

Kihec pondered. Was it time to tell him?

"Prince Ownage." He successfully caught Ownage's attention with his uneasy tone. "You know... if you don't wish to accompany us back to Vere—" He gnawed at his lip. "You could stay here. In Sol. I'm not forcing you. It's simply cruel to do so. You haven't even seen the beauty of your own nation."

He hadn't meant to say so much. But once the words begun, they all spilled free. Half of him wanted Ownage to remain. Staying meant he was untouched by war. The most selfish side of him argued he belonged in Vere, for reasons that Kihec couldn't begin to unpack.

Did he deserve to remain in a nation that had locked him away? Vere would honor him, not let him fade into obscurity. Did the people who lived among these estates know of Prince Ownage's existence, or were they content under the illusion that a princess, not a prince, lived behind the royal walls?

Frostie's theory weighed heavily in his conscience.

"You're asking me?" Ownage let out a short, breathless laugh. "Oh, Gods. I'm not sure." He mused. "I would like to see the town, though. What would I even do if I stayed in Sol?"

Not knowing if he was asking for an answer, the warrior kept his gaze forward, lips unmoving. Their hands still clasped together, Kihec leading him through the gravely streets. Deep marks in the pebbles marked the wheels of carriages.

They got to have a closer look at the houses now. Sharp, bright pastels wrapping from front back. Windows bore rough textures, their glass tinted with greens and blues that caught the light. Fences held little designs of their God: Sol blessing her people, granting light, purifying the dark.

Surely the bathhouse couldn't be much further now?

Kihec had been retracing his steps, recognizing particular houses and going from there. Skill sets such as these made a fine general—and made it so the little wooden structure in front of them could be located once more.

Ownage nearly walked past it, and Kihec caught him by the arm and gently pulled him back. He wasn't sure when they had stopped holding hands, too focused on retracing his steps.

"Bathhouses," he explained, "are always made of wood. Any other material wouldn't react well with the specific enchantment on them."

The other prince's eyebrows knitted together, openly perplexed. "It's... so small?"

Kihec enjoyed that look far too much, and before he could stop himself, his mouth was already moving.

"What? You've never bathed with your friends?" He smirked. "You're not a real friend if you haven't seen each other naked!"

For a moment, Prince Ownage looked absolutely scandalized, expression frozen in a polite smile. Then he recovered gaining composure again and brushed his sleeves.

"Ahem. I'm afraid I've never had friends. But, General, do they actually do... that? So close with each other?" he asked.

Before Kihec could respond, Ownage spoke up again.

"If you wish to be friends with someone, do you have to physically know them?"

They stared at each other, one with pure, earnest curiosity, the other shocked and troubled.

"Prince Ownage." He stated firmly, though not unkindly. "It's only a joke. Friendship doesn't require anything like that. Don't ever believe that's how it should be."

He wavered, picking his next words carefully. "That type of closeness is almost always romantic. Even still, some relationships can go just fine without physical connection."

Ownage went beet red and ducked into his hands, covering his face.

"I'm sorry, General... that was a really stupid question, wasn't it? I—"

"Never." Kihec took a step forward, resting his hand on his shoulder, gentle and sure. "I like your questions. And you didn't know, did you?"

Ownage thought before nodding slowly. "But... at my age, it's embarrassing to not know."

Of course it was embarrassing. Kihec certainly knew that. Not knowing something so simple—so human—was entirely the fault of his parents, and them alone. Bitter venom rose in this throat, and his next words would surely be unpleasant.

"Prince," he spoke tightly, standing in front of the door, "let's go inside."

—Ownage—

The General sounded so furious. He wondered if it was somehow his fault, despite reassurance Kihec offered him moments before. What thoughts could make the air around him seem to spark, to grow so tight it was hard to breathe?

The door swung open under Kihec's intense gaze, admitting them into the baths. Warmth wafted over both of them, wrapping around Ownage like he was in a sauna. The sweet smell of soap and oak logs sent a soothing feeling through his tense bones. Water echoed softly, flowing into the large pool of water, crisp and clean.

Near the door sat a small box, the top missing. Inside, little bars of soap sorted by type were stacked up to the brim—apple, rich sea salt, oak.

Judging by the scent of the bathhouse, there was a favorite.

And Ownage could understand why.

The general's anger ebbed finally, the sharpness fading into a dull static as he turned to the box of neat soaps.

"Which one do you want, Prince?" he asked, kneeling down.

"Oak," he said, pointing to the stack, "it smells lovely."

Kihec selected two bars, holding one out before reaching for the towels. He handed one over which was, of course, red.

Ownage watched him set his things at the side of the great bath and hurried to copy the arrangement. At Kihec's quiet huff of amusement, he immediately looked away, crossing his arms.

"Prince Ownage, do you need help undressing, too?"

This time, the teasing in his tone was unmistakable and Ownage caught it. He groaned.

"General, I haven't been in one of these places before! I'm trying to have manners," He protested, pouting.

Kihec snickered into his fist as he unclasped his chest piece and set it aside. He gathered the smaller parts of his armor into a shallow wooden bucket. Another one of the same size was also slid over to the prince.

Next came his hair tie, the braid fell apart on its own, dark brunette hair spilled onto his shoulders and face. It mirrored his eyes and exaggerated the dark crescent on his cheek.

"Should—should I turn away while you...?" Ownage trailed off, averting his gaze. Kihec was taking off his cloak and by extention, his undershirt.

"Those clips look difficult to remove." The general noted.

He was suddenly much closer.

Ownage squeaked and stumbled backward, only steadied by strong arms. He stayed frozen, eyes skittering all over his body except the most interesting part. Kihec had fully taken off his undershirt, and fixated his focus on the clips in his hair.

"Hold still." Kihec uttered, steadily grasping one of the clips. "I won't pull."

Various shades of red and gold clinked together as they landed in the general's palm. Ownage closed his eyes and let him card through his hair. It was probably dirty, maybe even greasy. Light blush tinted his cheeks at the thought.

At last, Kihec took the last clip, delicately placing it into the bucket.

"There. Now let's clean ourselves, Prince." He said, stepping back.

Ownage nodded too quickly, words failing him. He shifted his focus to his tunic, wrestling with it before finally managing to pull the well-fitting fabric off. His head felt light as he folded his clothes, stacking them beside the bucket.

What was General Kihec thinking, getting that close?

Ownage still felt dizzy, and perhaps the warmth from the bath was pooling in his chest.

The hum of flowing water grounded Ownage back to reality. He was dirty and needed cleaning. He didn't require Kihec's help for that—bathing was a daily occurrence, a great comfort and indulgence. The soothing warmth in his bones lessened the ache of inactivity.

He always wanted to go outside into the sun, to move around, to train. The princes in the books he'd read were always training their bodies, honing themselves to fight for a princess. The young man's exercise was limited, only enough to maintain a proper look. By no means was he weak, but he definitely could be stronger.

Ownage blew out a breath and worked soap over his skin, forming a white lather before he sunk back into the water. The suds washed out easily, and for the first time in a while, he fully relaxed. No walls with eyes, no cramped tent.

Gods. Ict had only been one day, hadn't it?

And already, more had happened than in his entire life within the castle.

He found himself glancing over to Kihec, if only for a second. The tough expanse of his back had scars of every shape and size. Many swords managed to pierce his skin in such a short amount of time, he couldn't be much older than Ownage after all.

Had he gained those after fighting for a beautiful woman? Ownage could imagine a strong general like Kihec would win any battle.

He looked down at himself, shaking off any negative thoughts beginning to surface. The prince positioned himself below one of the flowing streams, rinsing the soap from his hair.

'What would other princes be doing at my age?'

Admittedly, Ownage let himself float idly in the ever mild water, thoughts drifting to his future. The choice Kihec gave him could decide everything.

Oh Sol, which path was he meant to choose?

If he stayed—returned to the cold castle walls, to his silent chambers— what then? Now that he was thinking about it, he found himself pondering what had become of his parents. If he remained, would he be thrown straight into leadership, weighed down by a crown he was never prepared for?

And why, beneath all of it, did he find that he didn't care what became of them?

Did they really care about him, aside from all the false fear they'd carved into his soul? Ah... what deviant thoughts. Of course they did. Maybe a little too much—

"Prince."

A voice accompanied by a tap on his shoulder startled him beyond reason. His body jerked violently and his head dunked below the surface.

Water filled his lungs as he thrashed, disoriented, his limbs acting like they've never swam before. Everything was wrong, spinning around.

Upside down. He couldn't breathe.

Which way is up?

Ownage was in the castle again, locked in his chambers for trying to breach the gates. Every light in his room extinguished, plunging the room into total darkness. Moonlight shined into the room, worsening everything, making just enough illumination to lie.

His younger mind created horrific beings: shapes too long, too tall, too wrong. And they got closer, closer, closer still. Closer until every side of his bed was crowded with the monstrous things. They vanished the moment any feature threatened to be seen.

Confusion and doubt churned in his chest and lungs. It felt like water, suffocating him, flowing through him.

He couldn't move.

Restrained to the bed.

Then, all at once, it all stopped.

Black bled into brown. Water poured out of his mouth like a waterfall. Hard wood painfully pressed into his knees, and a soft fabric rested over his lower abdomen and thighs.

Right, the bathhouse. Kihec.

"Cough it up—there you go. Breathe." Kihec's voice was behind him, steadily allowing Ownage to lean back on his chest. "Gods... how do you drown in water you could've stood up in?"

Ownage didn't trust himself to answer. He was afraid to open his mouth, terrified water may rush back in. But just as quickly as panic came, it was gone in the same way.

"I'm sorry." He whispered out, not knowing whether he was apologizing to Kihec... or someone else entirely.

Silence overtook both of them, quietly sitting together on the floor of the bathhouse. Ownage worked to control his frantic breathing, drawing in cooler air away from the bath to steady himself.

They waited until reason returned to him.

When he tried to sit up, a firm presence behind him kept in place. The towel slipped lower against his stomach, and a mortifying realization sent his eyebrows into his hairline.

Not only had he started drowning in water a child could have stood in—Kihec was forced to haul him out of the bath.

One check back at Kihec confirmed that he indeed was fully clothed, and absolutely soaked. His sleeves got the worst of it, weighed down by the sheer amount of water they held. His entire front was drenched too, a by-product of Ownage collapsing on his chest.

Kihec exhaled, adjusting the towel on Ownage's hips. He tied it off around his waist, ensuring it wouldn't accidentally slip.

The prince allowed him to help them both to their feet, standing still while Kihec checked him over with a practiced eye. Once he was certain that Ownage hadn't injured himself further, the general handed him his clothes.

"I startled you, didn't I?" Kihec said, frowning.

"You did." Ownage admitted. "But I overreacted, that's all."

He gestured for the general to turn around and give him some privacy. Once the eyes were off him, he dried himself the best he could and wrestled the new clothes on.

It was a more casual ensemble than what he was used to: a white, high-collared shirt with a line of small buttons fastening it, paired with black tailored trousers. The charms on his pants were simple—a mix of suns and small yellow flowers.

An approving huff interrupted his inspection of his outfit, and Kihec stepped closer. The general made no effort to hide the way he looked him over, nodding once in approval.

"Reminds me of a working man. You kind of look like you're about to head out on the fields." He spoke as he took another step closer. "I have something to add."

This time, Ownage did not squeeze his eyes shut. He watched Kihec slide a clip into his hair with the utmost care, being sure to not disturb a single hair.

"There," he said.

It was a large pin—one the young prince recognized immediately. Custom-made. An exact copy of the rune on his next, every shade, every color, every detail faithfully matched. One of his caretakers secretly commission it for him long ago, way back in his beginning teenage years.

"Kihec!" Ownage exclaimed, "Where did you find this..?"

"Kihec?"

The general smirked at him, crossing his arms.

"Oh no, I'm sorry. General. I meant General Kihec!" Ownage quickly shot out, scrambling to correct himself.

"It's—"

"I'm really sorry! Honest mistake, I didn't mean to use your name." He continued, flustered.

"Well—"

"I just do that from time to time. Gods, I should've done so much more diplomatic practice with Father—"

"Ownage."

Kihec sigh was soft but weary, an irritated crease forming between his brows.

Only then did it register.

He hadn't said Prince.

"I don't care about honorifics with you... for some reason." Kihec squeezed the water out of his sleeves. "So don't bother, if it's just us."

Ownage couldn't force a word out. He looked at Kihec as if he were some other species.

Kihec.

It was a foreign name, but it rolled off his tongue so nicely. Not like he hadn't been saying it before—just saying it without a title in front of it felt dangerous, intimate, and ill-advised.

"Kihec." Ownage tested his name, it had a good weight on his tongue.

The general covered his amused smile. "It's fine. I insist."

After a beat, Ownage grinned at the man before him.

"So, Gen- Kihec," he asked, leaning forward, "how about we go take a tour around downtown?"

Unable to stop himself, his hand extended towards the other. This was how to be courteous, right? Kihec had done it for him, why not reciprocate?

But his facial expression looked strained. The smile never reached his eyes, his jaw wound up tight—as if his eyes carried the fire of an unexpected decision.

Finally, he focused back on him and reached out—

—and patted him on the shoulder instead, brief and gentle.

Ownage's jaw slackened slightly before he glanced up in confusion. What? Gods, he must've misread the gesture at first.

I understand. You may not be accustomed to Vere's customs yet.

That was what Kihec said when they first locked hands, did he not? What were the requirements to holding your hand out for someone? Did they have to be of higher status? Was Kihec... higher status?

These useless questions churned in his mind, sending his brain sprawling and dizzy.

Wordlessly, he threw his towel into the laundry basket—few towels occupying it—and followed Kihec outside the bathhouse, allowing the general to take the previous clothes off his hands.

The rest was a blur, lost inside the whirlwind of his own doubts.

They were back at the camp—why? Weren't they supposed to see the town?

"Yes, we are, Prince." And Kihec was calling him Prince again.

Social interaction will never, ever, not be exhausting to Ownage.

"Kihec, it is getting dark out. How long did we really spend in the bathhouse?" Ownage's voice rose slightly, piling question after question. Why was Kihec not answering any of them?

"Prince, please. Refrain from asking thirty questions a minute. Also, in the presence of others, it is General Kihec."

Frostie and Buodq were there, watching mild concern. Ownage knew he must look frazzled. Time was slipping away, and Kihec's behavior back in camp—different, controlled, deliberate—made him feel like he was upside down, off-balanced.

"What's happened? You're so... different now—it's like I'm speaking to a completely separate person, Kihec!" He paused. "General. I meant General."

"Something came up. We can't go see the town today, sorry, Prince." Kihec explained, "just... go back to your tent. Like I asked you to, fiveteen minutes ago." Ownage could now feel the sharp edge of annoyance, catching it in the flash of Kihec's scathing gaze.

"Yes, Prince. This conversation isn't for your ears at all." Frostie cut in, his voice hard. Ownage truly wouldn't know that.

"Go to your chambers, Ownage. Do not continue this childish act."

A harsh voice broke through his confusion. Something in the back of his mind stirred, his father. At last, a voice he understood. It meant go away. it usually came after he had been too annoying.

That was also when they restrained him, branding him an ungrateful son for asking too much.

People were watching. Soldiers, actually. Watching a prince humiliate himself, inept, out of his element. They were snickering, as if they were watching a comedy play. He needed to learn how to stop asking questions.

Needed to learn how to act like a true prince.

Ownage needed to be anywhere rather than here. Maybe he really should return to his tent. Yes, go away. Just go away.

Wait. Apologize. Now.

"I'm sorry for being a nuisance." He choked out, far too unprincely, even for his ears.

He bowed—low—just like he'd been taught to. Good.

But the darkness in Kihec's eyes, similar to when he first saw him yesterday, hadn't changed. Furious. Impatient.

Go away.

An ugly grimace twisted on Ownage's face and he immediately broke off from the group at once, letting the small crowd of grinning soldiers part for him. Don't start running, Ownage. No matter how humiliated, that would put the final nail in his coffin.

Once he got far enough away, he collapsed just in front of his tent, legs unwilling to take him any farther. When had he became so fatigued?

The light from the sun spilled out over the horizon in beautiful shades. Oh, wow. He hadn't seen a sunset in... years. His room was facing the opposite way, and with his curfew, he never got to witness Sol's beauty in the evening.

She was always absolutely gorgeous.

It felt like a warm hug, enveloping his body. Ownage urged himself not to cry, but to apologize.

"Sol... I'm sorry someone like me bears your rune," he whispered, "You deserve someone who can understand people. Someone who truly sheds light."

He bowed on his knees, lower than ever before in his life, pouring every ounce of his heart and soul into the apology.

"How am I supposed to shed your divine light if I do not understand when? It's so difficult to understand... I wish—no—why am I wishing in an apology?" He cursed under his breath.

Then the sun disappeared under the horizon. His time was up.

Breathing out, he noticed the basket General Kihec had shown up with. Defeated, he picked it up and dragged it into the tent. Beautiful clothes... he wanted to put all of them on right now.

Ownage tugged the clip Kihec had so carefully placed in his hair, removing it and analyzing it in his palm. It was indeed the same charm his favorite caretaker had gotten him for his sixteenth birthday.

The clip was beautiful, it reminded him of so many different people—and one he missed most of all. He missed Caretaker Anne dearly, such an old but bright soul.

If only she were younger.

Ownage began to remove the clothes he wore, eager to slip into the intricate attire. He wanted to spend so much time with the countless of clasps, bows, accessories, and buttons. Fastening them all up and then taking them all apart, feeling the weight and order beneath his shaking fingers.

This particular outfit was one Anne taught him to fasten personally. She would hum a short tune, pointing out specific buckles, tightening them till they pressed too close. A short song about dressing yourself and manners, ingrained into his brain as a core memory.

The more time you spend, the more time you're worth.

He remembered the gloves that came with the outfit—gummy in texture, unbearable. He felt itchy just thinking about them, the way they stuck to his hands. Anne hadn't yelled or forced him to wear them, only smiling warmly, like the sun.

They were tucked away in one of his bedroom sock drawers.

The gentle tune rang through his ears, weighing heavy on his eyes. The outfit was done, fully fastened. The clip was in his hands, and, at last, now he could rest.

Caretaker Anne was stroking his reddened wrists soothing, familiar, lulling him into sleep.

The weary prince's eyes could hold open no longer.

—Kihec—

Pacing back and forth outside of Ownage's tent had grown unbearable. Finally, General Kihec decided to invite himself inside his tent.

The man within lay atop his bedroll, a frown plastered on his face, tear tracks faint on his cheeks. Ownage was dressed in completely different clothes—formal, intricate, almost as though he were preparing for a royal ball. Tons of different straps and buckles held the outfit in place, so tight they looked suffocating.

In his hands, the clip Kihec had returned to him was clutched between his fingers.

Even when resting, Ownage looked utterly exhausted.

"The clothes are too tight." Kihec muttered, grimacing as he loosened his collar.

He moved methodically over Ownage's entire person, either completely taking off unnecessary parts of his outfit or loosening them. Gradually, the clothes softed, falling into place instead of binding him, fitting gently instead of constricting.

Kihec glanced at Ownage's face, searching for any sign of relief—

—and found sky blue meeting his hazel eyes. Bleary and unfocused, but present.

The general's hand flinched back, just like the night he'd touched Ownage's rune. Respectfully, he clasped both of his hands to his chest.

"Ownage," he breathed. "You're awake."

An incoherent noise escaped the prince's lips, hoarse and painful. Ha, as if he hadn't swallowed enough bathwater yesterday...

"Wait—let me get you some water."

Kihec searched around frantically. He could've sworn he'd left the waterskin somewhere nearby. Where was it?

"Oh, General." Lieutenant Deer sat outside the tent, absently fiddling with the leather. "This yours?" He held the waterskin up, teasing.

"Lieutenant!" Kihec snapped, "you piece of shit. Hand it over."

"Oh? Or what?"

Kihec didn't hesitate.
"Ownage needs it."

Deer raised an eyebrow and tossed the waterskin over, frowning deeply.

"What happened? Is he okay?" He asked.

"It's... it's my fault, really. I forgot his upbringing and got annoyed with him last night." He paused outside the flap. "That's no excuse. I reacted poorly." He clenched his jaw. "...I messed up."

Kihec's shoulders sagged, head tilted at the floor. Saying it aloud released some of the tension coiled in his body, leaving him with the weight of guilt.

When Deer didn't respond, Kihec lifted his head to check if he was even still there.

He was. Standing stock-still, his jaw practically on the ground.

"General!" He burst out. "You're—you've admitted you've done something wrong! Am I dreaming or something?" Deer rubbed his eyes furiously, blinking up at Kihec in sheer disbelief.

"Shut up." Kihec hissed, entering the tent again. However, not before schooling his expression into a softer, warmer look.

Kihec sat beside the poor Prince with uncharacteristic care. Slowly, he eased him into a sitting position, bringing the waterskin to his chapped lips.

Ownage drank eagerly, the color returning to his face gradually. Kihec watched him the entire time, offering a warm, encouraging smile. Ownage reached up, and Kihec let him take the waterskin, allowing him to drink at his own pace.

"How are you feeling, Ownage?" Kihec asked, softly patting his shoulder.

The man gave a half-hearted hum, capping the leather and setting it aside.

"'M fine..." he rasped, voice worn thin after too many questions. "I'm sorry about last night. I know I was being an annoyance."

"You're sorry?" Kihec said quietly. "No, this isn't on you. I'm the one who should apologize." Kihec took a deep breath in, gathering all of his words. "Yesterday, when you held out your hand... I wanted to take it. But there is something you should know, something I neglected to tell you.

"Physical touch in general is confusing. And after everything that happened—after you nearly drowned—I felt... overwhelmed. Too many conflicting emotions. I worried taking your hand would only make things worse. I'm sorry I confused you."

Ownage watched him, his eyes unfocused. Struggling to process the moment.

"Then there's the entire incident that happened at camp. Again, I'm sorry. I turned on a dime and drove you deeper into your hole of self-doubt. However, I cannot promise you it won't happen again."

Kihec wasn't even sure he was picking up on his words. He continued anyway, gently taking his hand in his.

"Something takes hold of me when I feel heavily upset, and I have no control over it." Kihec uttered the last part, disdaining the loss of control.

Kihec patiently waited for Ownage to catch up, watching him process his words. He wasn't sure if he should talk about what happened last night, the reason he got so upset.

"I don't know what to say," Ownage uttered, voice barely carrying.

"Then don't say anything," Kihec reassured him. "We can eat, then we can go into town together."

The prince nodded without a word and rose to his feet. Their hands slipped apart, returning to their sides. Kihec opened the tent flap back up, stepping out of the shade and into the sunlight.

His foot knocked something solid and he flicked his gaze downward.

Two bowls oatmeal sat next to the tip of his boot.

They ate in comfortable silence, enjoying their breakfast together. A slow morning after the chaos that was last night. This was definitely something the two men needed desperately: quiet.

Far away chatter of the soldiers made for excellent background noise, settling into a steady hum. Ownage and Kihec were back to their regular conversations. Chatting about their daily schedules and routines, even though it was clear Ownage was leaving out a bunch of details.

When they were finally finished, they were well-fed and fully awake, ready to go.

"Ownage," Kihec spoke up after a moment, "at some point, can I teach you specific gestures and what they mean?"

The prince looked up at him, a shy smile tugging at his lips. He was hesitant, but far more confident than before.

"That would be much preferred, Kihec."

Kihec offered a smile back, extending his hand outward.

"You're familiar with this. This is common gesture between romantic partners—but don't get it mixed up for guiding," he explained, waiting for Ownage to either take it or turn him down. "When I reached for you before, it was only meant to guide you. Nothing more."

Suddenly, a amused sound escaped Ownage.

"What if I gave you a taste of your own medicine?" He said, crossing his arms and turning away and refusing him, mischief gleaming in his eyes.

Relief washed over Kihec's face.

He laughed, shaking his head with a soft sigh. "Oh, so I'm the one being rejected now? Ouch." He pressed a hand to his chest, exaggerating heartbreak.

"Guess I'm gonna have to go alone," he sighed even louder, laying the dramatics on thick. "The prince clearly doesn't want anything to do with me..." His face fell into a mournful look.

Ownage bit his lip, dropping his arms and hurried forward. "Hey, I didn't say anything like that!"

He threw out his own hand, pouting a little. "Can you take mine? Like... a second chance?"

Kihec didn't hesitate. Before Ownage could think twice, he had already closed the gap between them, his hand fitting easily around Ownage's and drawing him closer.

"Thank you for giving me a second chance," Kihec said softly. "Shall we go now?"

Ownage agreed, gathering their bowls in his free hand without letting go of Kihec's.

"Let's go."

They excused themselves and passed through the guards just like last time. In the corner of his eye, he caught Lieutenant Deer giving him an approving nod.

After all, it wasn't every day Kihec gave such heartfelt apologies.

The walk to the plaza was uneventful, many homes sat just outside the heart of the city, away from all the chaos. Only children and younger teens were outside, playing whatever games came to mind. Older teens were notably absent, most likely sent off to work.

It seemed that neither Vere nor Sol discriminated. Men and women were held to the same expectations. And no wonder, most chose to work fulfilling careers. Perhaps that, Kihec thought, was what made this kingdom was not just a simple town. It was a city.

His train of thought paused temporarily, distracted by Ownage slowing to a stop. Kihec followed his gaze to larger group of kids, swarming each other like flies. They were laughing so hard they snorted like pigs, smeared with dirt and grime, completely unbothered by it.

They looked like they were having so much fun.

Ownage tilted his head, expression softening as he watched them. He tracked the way they touched, roughly pushing one another into the dirt without hesitation, no manners. They didn't look afraid to play.

He stared like he'd never seen anything like it, a strange, foreign happiness on his face.

"I've only ever read about this in my books," He murmured, never once tearing his eyes away. "I didn't think other children were allowed to be so... dirty."

"Ownage, don't tell me you want to join them?" Kihec teased.

"Gods, no!" Ownage bit his lip. "I'd win if I joined... I'm much older and taller."

The general shot him a wicked look, cracking his knuckles and stretching his legs. "Then let's play with just the two of us. You run. I chase you. If I touch any part of you, you lose."

It was tag down to the simplest form.

"You want to?"

The prince nodded, his body going rigid like a bow pulled tight. His legs twitched beneath him, barely restrained, as though he might bolt down the street at any moment.

Kihec waited, eyes lazily meandering around. Purposefully deceptive. Once Ownage lost his focus, he'd strike. This tactic drilled into him overtime with harsh training. It sharpened reaction time and punished hesitation from the enemy. It was pretty effective, if he did say so himself.

Ownage shifted, body untensing. He opened his mouth to speak.

Kihec lunged.

He blazed straight for the unguarded prince. Ownage shrieked and stumbled backward, narrowly evading the outstretched hand heading for his shoulder. His heel caught on a rock, sending his balance skidding. Somehow, impossibly, the trip brought him just out of reach again.

"Holy shit, this guy is ridiculously lucky," the general thought, annoyed but also impressed.

Thin rays of sunlight cut into Ownage's form, setting him alight like a lantern. The panicked expression on his face bathed in radiance. It almost seemed to be guiding him, moving for him when his mind simply couldn't catch up.

He decided to strike again. If the prince was dazed, he could end this quickly. No chase required.

Kihec reached out, fingers hovered inches away from his shoulder—

Pins and needles shot through his arm, then a sharp burst of pain set his nerves alight. It felt like he'd just stuck his hand into an open fire, charring his skin to ash. He hissed and yanked his arm back, his sudden retreat allowing the prince to break off, sprinting down the gravely path.

The fire was smothered as quickly as it started, leaving the aftershocks of such agony pulsing through him. Kihec drew his sleeve back, observing his skin, checking for any evidence of what just happened.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing revealed on his wrist, forearm, or bicep. No scorch marks, no burns, and no ash. Just the violent rippling his muscles caused beneath his skin, a disturbing sight to see, even for a seasoned general. Kihec forced a breath, straightening.

Ownage.

Where had he gone?

A different sensation flooded his veins. Cold worry, an emotion this man made him feel all too often.

Instantly, Kihec was back to work. He set down the path, clearing large distances while visually scrubbing groups of people. Mainly shorter kids filled the street, granting him an easier time differentiating between everyone else and Ownage.

He saw no bright red suit, and part of him was relieved he chose to dress in one of his extravagant outfits. Gods know how long it would take to find him in the plain clothes he was in before. Unfortunately, houses began to shift into shops, and the crowds of adults grew in number.

Kihec, and quite possibly Ownage, had entered the Aureon plaza. The heart of Sol, powering the rest of the city with the sheer amount of trade that occurred in the center.

Voices overpowered his hearing, all he could hear were people around him gasping. Noise crashed over the entire plaza, and everyone looked his way.

They recognized him.

Soon enough, the crowd unconsciously created a circle of space. People bowed when he made his way past. merchants offered him free samples, some looked wide-eyed, rigid but still nodding.

Kihec couldn't see even a glimpse of red in this crowd, he had to keep moving. He pushed through the citizens, and they parted with haste. Respectfully, some saw his urgency and offered their hands.

"General Kihec, do you require assistance?"

"What are you searching for, General Kihec?"

"I'm looking for the prince!" he barked out urgently, "he's wearing a red suit, blue eyes and brown hair with a pin in it! You must aid me in my search!"

He thought he sounded way too desperate struck him too late. That wasn't how a general sounded, it was the tone of an afraid man. A whiny prince.

But he got his point across, and people were on high alert now. Merchants shouted out for a prince they probably wouldn't know an hour ago. Heads turned, murmurs to family and coworkers spread like wildfire.

Kihec watched people search their own stalls, inside shops, trailing down alleys. The extra eyes were helpful, but overwhelming. It was not his intention to let everyone know there was another prince, but they were gonna learn about his existence at some point.

Deciding to stay where he was, Kihec surveyed the plaza from where he was at.

For Vere's sake, why had Ownage kept running?

Surely he would've looked behind him and saw he wasn't being pursued!

"I've found 'em!" A booming masculine voice erupted from his right.

Kihec flinched, his legs moved on their own, taking him over to the storefront.

Surely enough, a muscular man came out of a tiny store. He had Ownage's wrist gripped tightly, forcefully dragging him out of the building. Terror was written all over the poor prince's face.

What the fuck?

Again, the general's body reacted to the appalling treatment before his mind could. He marched up to the, who looked to be, glassblower, each step echoing through the packed street. Familiar rage and pain curled in his stomach, coiling like a rattlesnake in preparation.

No, he couldn't. He couldn't behead a man in broad daylight.

With barely any calm, he took Ownage from the worker, pulling him close, rubbing soothing circles into his inflamed wrist. His gaze immediately darkened once it fixated on the middle-aged man.
closer,

Then something shifted.

The rattling in his gut faded, replaced by a thrum, the impossible warmth, like standing in the sun or a really bad fever. It began the moment he joined hands with Ownage.

Slow breaths replaced the raging snorts of a enraged bull. A strange serenity washed over him, obviously not enough to completely put out the violence in his chest. Kihec was unable to act, not angry enough to draw his sword, bury it into the man's shoulder cavity and leave him bleeding out.

"...Thank you." The general scorned between gritted teeth.

"Ha ha!" he boomed again, "The young'un was in my glass shop, worried he was gonna knock something over!" The overweight man heaved over, laughing like a croaking frog—his gut bouncing with each laugh. "Glad I had a reason to kick 'em out!"

"I wasn't trying to knock anything over, I swear!" Ownage suddenly piped up. "You scared me. You walked up to me and grabbed me for no reason. I even caught the glass I knocked over."

So this bastard didn't even give him a single warning? Just hauled him out of the glass shop?

Kihec was fucking seething.

"Yeah yeah, I've heard it all before." The glassblower scoffed, dismissing Ownage. Then he paused, raking his eyes over him with judgment. "But it's different from someone like you." He smirked, asshole. "You're a royal. What royal doesn't know their manners in a shop? What kingdom are you from, anyway? Sol doesn't get much visits from royalty."

Ownage slumped, head down in shame. "I... I suppose I don't know my manners," he admitted, shame lacing every word. Then he added quietly, "I am Sol's prince."

The fat man burst out in infuriating laughter.

It was loud, disgusting, and cruel. He clutched his stomach as if he were pregnant. "Oh, oh that's too good! Too good!"

He jabbed his finger harshly in Ownage's direction. "Your mark is colored, boy! It's obviously painted on! And also, Sol has a princess, not a prince. Nice try."

Shock settled over the prince's face. His eyes widened, as he fiddled with his sleeves and shifted in place. He looked utterly lost, not knowing whether to speak up or fall back in humiliation.

Kihec took this as a green light, stepping forth and drawing his blade from it's sheath in one smooth motion. Fury bubbled underneath his skin, turning into pure elation when he saw the mocking grin on the fatass's face fall.

"Who gave you the right to speak to royalty in such disgrace?" He spat.

His voice rose in volume, traveling across the entire plaza. "He is your prince. I, Kihec, General of Vere, recognize this fine young man as a prince."

To fortify the threat, Kihec leveled his blade just centimeters away from the three chins the man had obtained through the opposite of hard work. He reveled in the further look of fear twisting his face, pressing the tip of his blade into his throat.

"And you didn't care enough to respect a man who clearly outranks you." Kihec continued, low and lethal. "I can't help but wonder how you treat everyone else."

The general was about to swing, cut his head clean off. His hand tightened around the hilt, drawing the sword closer to him, the steel hummed with excitement.

The crowd witnessing were all dead silent, waiting for the bloodshed, no pleas, no gasps from family members.

Nobody intervened.

Well if that's the case—

"Kihec, no!"

Ownage ran up, grabbing the blade and forcing it to the side, the cold steel bit into his palms. Kihec's face drained of color; his first instinct was pure panic. He tugged sword the back to him, only succeeding in cutting deeper into Ownage's flesh. Blood dripped from the metal to the ground. A scene Kihec would see in his nightmares.

Surprisingly, before General could react further, the glassblower was next to Ownage, wrenching him away from the weapon. Kihec dropped his sword, uncaring as it clattered to the ground, already at his side.

"Ownage, you fucking idiot—fucking idiot!" He cried out, voice breaking. "Let me see, let me see! Please, show me your hands."

He pried open Ownage's clenched fist, drenching his fingers in the prince's blood. The stench of iron filled the air, haunting Kihec's senses.

It was bad. The blade ate into his palm, cutting down into the thin layer of flesh, a skin flap ripped open. Probably happened when Kihec tugged. Fuck. The wound spanned the entire length of his palm, a vicious gash. He couldn't exactly tell how deep it went, but blood spilled profusely from the laceration, painted the stones below a dark red.

Oh, Gods above.
They needed Frostie. Now.

In fact, any healer would do nicely.

"Oh my Gods!" A woman in the crowd suddenly screamed, terrified.

Then everything dissolved into chaos.

People cried out, frantically whispering, surging towards the prince. Kihec did the best he could to keep them away from the bleeding man, practically turning himself into a human shield. He barked orders consisting of "stay the hell away" and "fuck off", but some slipped through the defense.

However, a blessing cut through the madness.

A man clad in loose white layers approached, seemingly being pushed by a group of people into the circle. Fluffy Jet-black hair sat atop his head, framing a calm face. Kind eyes as black as his hair stared at him, unfazed, unafraid.

"Let me help, General." He spoke, and even his voice was comforting.

Seeing how in tune the man was, Kihec forcee himself to ignore the voice in his head shouting 'don't let him touch him'. He backed up and let the other take place across from him.

The man cupped Ownage's bloody hands in his own.

Kihec swallowed hard, also shutting out the jealous whine in his chest.

A yellow ball of light bloomed above their joined hands, lowering until it made contact with torn flesh. The length of the injury glowed, shimmering like the a miniature sun. Right before Kihec's eyes, he saw the gash pull itself together, cutting off the blood that seeped out.

Ownage's pained gasps lessened into slow breaths.

Just the mere sight of him soothing something in Kihec's chest—an indescribable ache—leaving him feeling whole.

This man—this healer—fixed a gaping wound with ease.

It took Frostie a little bit longer to do something of that scale, and the amount of power training that had been required to do so was staggering. The general winced at the unease coiling in his gut.

Who are you?

"Be careful," the healer warned quietly, "it can rip back open if strained. The scar issue that I produced is thinner than the body's scar tissue."

"I will. I will be careful. Thank you, kind healer. Your powers are invaluable." Kihec assured the man, helping Ownage to his feet. His hand on the prince's back, just in case the loss of blood was too dizzying for him.

"Who do I owe my true thanks to?"

He hesitated. "Dario," he uttered, Trainer Dario."

Kihec's eyes nearly burst out of their sockets upon hearing the familiar name, along with it came a agonizing wave of grief, so brutally sharp it stole the air right out of his lungs.

"Trainer—you're the—oh my Gods." Was all Kihec could gasp out.

"Yeah," the man spoke easily, "I am." A grin slowly spread over his face, his black eyes wrinkling at the edges. "Hey, Kihec."

This was the same guy Dario took in all those years ago, a lowly orphan. No name, no family, and certainly no rights as a fourteen year old. Colonel found him half-frozen on the streets, a blank look on his face. He later described the poor kid as "lifeless and inches away from death".

For some reason, the little boy struck a nerve inside of Dario.

Who, against all rules, against all reason, couldn't help but invite him into the palace. This was much to the chagrin of Kihec's parents. Neither could stand the thought of a poor, dirty child entering their luxurious castle.

But Colonel was one of the few people in the world who actively ignored the crowns pointed words, not giving either a second of his time.

And somehow, this boy was standing in the heart of Sol, a big dumb smile on his face.

As if no time had passed whatsoever.

"Trainer, let's get out of this crowd before someone gets trampled." He hesitated, weighing whether it would be appropriate it would be to ask Trainer to accompany them to camp.

"I will follow, no worries." He said, gesturing to a street branching off the main road. "Shall we go?"

Kihec agreed and guided the prince through the crowd, one hand firm on his back. There were eyes all over the man in red. Shocked, and oddly fearful whispers came from onlookers.

"We have a prince? Since when?"

"A prince... born after a disease that terrible? That can't mean anything good."

"I don't like the look of him. He doesn't act like a royal."

Blood boiled beneath Kihec's skin, but he forced it down for Ownage. There was still a large chance the prince was foolish enough to step between him and his target again.

Ownage put himself in the way once. He might do it again.

They trailed down a far calmer road. Faint music drifted from a man plucking at a lute, men and women alike stood in the road, speaking to one another in quiet breaths. It was nothing like Aureon Plaza, the relief was sharp like plunging in an ice bath after roasting over a campfire.

It took a bit for Kihec to find his voice, still slightly speechless at Trainer Dario's sudden appearance after all these years. He had so much he wanted to ask.

"Why are you in Sol, Trainer?" Kihec asked, loosening his hold on Ownage once the man seemed to regain his senses.

He made sure the prince walked steadily on his own before turning his attention on what the healer had to say.

"I'm in Sol because I'm a traveling practitioner," Trainer explained, performing his usual over-the-top gestures. "I work and earn my living this way." He dramatically waved his hands, making Kihec hold back a huff of laughter. "I've honed my healing skills so my services are irresistible. I apprenticed under another master to follow for a few years, then I departed and became what I am today."

Trainer cupped his face with his hands, emphasizing the black marks on his knuckles.

"I earned these," he said proudly.

The marks appeared when one had reached the height of their capabilities. He remembered when Frostie obtained his. The healer was absolutely insufferable—waving the runes in Kihec's face and shouting out his uncontained excitement. He truly had been a healer in every sense.

"Oh. Damn. Congratulations, Trainer. I'm happy for you."

Trainer thrummed with energy, breaking out of his cool healer persona. Kihec felt like a young boy again, sneaking into forbidden places with Trainer.

"Hell yeah! You know I missed you, Kihec!" He gnawed on his lip, then, unable to stop himself, spoke again. "Gods, I missed you. Do you know how scary it was, all alone out in the corrupted woods?"

Kihec's feet faltered, and he fell behind the others. "What?"

Trainer noticed and stopped, but Ownage kept walking ahead.

"Hm?"

"They put you out in the corrupted woods? Are you...?"

Kihec put some distance between himself and the healer, wary of what might have taken hold inside him.

Trainer doubled over in laughter, pointing at Kihec's face. "Ahahaha! You should see your face! My dear general, it's been what, eight years?" he giggled, wiping his eyes. "Don't you think I would've lost my mind already? I'm not like you."

Kihec rolled his eyes and turned on his heel, trying to drown out the annoying wheezing. He waved him off and quickened his pace, catching up to Ownage, who had realized their pause and was waiting for them.

"He's such an asshole." The general groaned, voice softening as he turned to Ownage. "You alright?"

The prince nodded and smiled at him, but it didn't reach his eyes. Something was wrong

"Kiheeec!" Trainer grabbed his shoulders and shook him dramatically. "Don't try to abandon me—oh, is that the camp?" he asked, adjusting his clothing and composing himself once more.

"Yes, it is. Want to catch up with Frostie and Lieutenant Deer?" He nodded towards the tents, leading them closer to the patrolling guards.

The guards noticed them instantly, bowing in respect and parting to let them through. Trainer waved at them and bolted into the camp, where Frostie and Lieutenant Deer were going over drills to keep their soldiers occupied.

Kihec chuckled as Frostie shouted in recognition. He coddled Trainer like an overprotective mother, checking him from head to toe to be sure it really was him. Deer halted the drills and swept him into a crushing bear hug.

"That's... sweet." Ownage murmured beside him, making the general jump.

"Gods, don't scare me like that, Ownage." Kihec groaned, then sighed. "But yeah, it is sweet."

And just like that, they watched the heartfelt reunion side by side—and yeah, so what if Kihec laced their hands together?

—Ownage—

Holding Kihec's hand in his own felt normal now, something he even craved. He hated letting go of the warmth; it was like a part of him emptied out whenever they let go. A familiar settled cold in his chest, something not even the rune on his neck could scare away.

They ate dinner together in a circle around a large fire, keeping any extra portions hot and ready. Buodq sat next to him, doing stupid little tricks with his food rather than eating it, much to Frostie's chagrin. It made Ownage giggle helplessly, unable to even look at the silly man beside him.

Multiple times, Kihec scoffed and scolded him, but he never seemed truly angry. After all, the general spent half the night giving him warm glances.

Smoke rose into the sky, and the soft hum of chatter helped him forget what the day had done to him. Once more, he whispered goodbye to Sol as she dipped beneath the horizon. The night air grew cold, and soon they called it a day.

Ownage was halfway to his tent when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He snapped his head to find Kihec behind him.

"Ownage, hey uh—do you want to stay in my tent tonight?" He asked, awkwardly shifting in place. "Obviously you'd have your own bedroll!" he rushed to add.

"You want me to spend the night in your tent? Why?" Ownage questioned, rubbing the scarred skin on his palms.

"Oh... hm." Kihec sputtered, clearly struggling to explain himself. "Well... maybe we could talk. Uhm. Yeah."

Ownage raised an eyebrow, thinking over his request. Today was really difficult for him, maybe spending the night talking to Kihec until sleep claimed him would help. He could ask questions. Real questions. Perhaps he'd finally get answers to just what is going on.

But Kihec is being strange about his request. The awkward tone. The tense movements. The way he's having difficulty forming sentences, as if his brain was moving miles ahead. Could talking really be the only thing the general wanted?

"Ownage?" Kihec waved his hand in front of his face.

Oh. Shit.

Ownage snapped out of his thoughts. No, he didn't want to upset the man in front of him. Besides, he could be reading too far into it. Kihec wasn't that type of person. He didn't have bad alterior motives.

"Yeah! Sure, I'll spend the night in your tent." Ownage said, maybe a little too loudly.

That got the attention from both Frostie and Buodq, who were agruing—chatting just a few tents away.

"Moving a little fast, don't you think, General?" Frostie commented, smirking evilly.

"You can do it, Ownage!" Buodq shouted, pumping his fists into the air.

"Guys! We're just going to chat!" The prince protested, not even sure what they were implying. He buried his face in his palms.

The other two men laughed.

"Oh yeah. A chat. Mhm," Frostie said, winked.

Kihec scoffed and took Ownage's hands from his face, checking to make sure he hadn't torn the scars on his palms back open. Only then did he lead him over to his tent.

The entire way, they could hear the two hollering at Kihec.

"Sorry about them, Ownage," Kihec said, pausing outside of his tent. "They're really stupid sometimes. I think it's Buodq's fault that all of our IQs are going down."

Nerves pickled under the surface of Ownage's skin, but he pushed them down.

"Oh, it's fine. Really," the prince reassured him, "it doesn't bother me much."

Kihec glanced around the camp, searching for a nearby soldier, then locked on to a target. He whistled sharply and waved a tough-looking man over. Once the man had bowed in respect, he pointed at Ownage's tent and ordered him to retrieve the bedroll and bring it back.

"Right away, sir," He obeyed, jogging off in the direction of Ownage's tent.

Kihec held the tent flap open for him, gesturing inside. The prince hesitantly crouched into the shelter, avoiding the bedroll that laid in the center. He didn't want to touch it— to get his dirty boots on it.

"The soldier will bring yours soon," Kihec rasped as he climbed in after him, leaving the tent unzipped. "Let me move mine over."

He dragged the soft wool to the opposite side of the tent and sat on top of it. An awkward silence settled overhead, waiting, breath held, for the soldier's return.

The tension reminded Ownage of the romantic novels he used to read before bed. The man always invited his lady over, prince or not. And just when Ownage thought the author had some sense of decorum, that they would not include sudden, heated scenes, he was always proven wrong. He remembered snapping the books shut when it became too much, cheeks burning hot at having read such improper material.

Kihec was about to speak when a bedroll shoved through the tent flap, followed by the soldier's grunting. The tension shattered like a stained glass window, into little shards that still littered the floor. Any missstep would send a razor-sharp edge into one's foot.

Ownage hurried to grab the bed, but so did Kihec. They ended up side by side, hands closing around the same fabric. No—around each other was a better phrase. Or rather, Kihec's hands cased the prince's.

The general noticed immediately and, thankfully, backed away before Ownage's heart could beat out of his chest. He was so anxious it was pathetic, really.

"You can leave now." Kihec dismissed the soldier, tilting his chin upward.

Once the man was gone, Kihec immediately turned back to Ownage and caught his wrist, examining the scar on his palm—the one he'd accidentally closed his hand around. He couldn't hold back the small, surprised gasp that escaped him, and cringed at himself.

"Does it hurt?" Kihec asked, carefully tracing the tissue. "I hope I didn't just reset your healing process. Gods, I did squeeze you a bit."

Kihec's touch was gentle, sending a shiver up Ownage's arm. He winced at the sensation; the tingling where he poked was deeply uncomfortable.

"No...?" he spoke up after a moment, "It's tingling. Uncomfortable."

The general sighed and released his wrist, picking up the other. He treated it the same way as he did the first. Prodding carefully, making sure nothing reopened.

"This is okay too?" he asked.

Ownage nodded, avoiding eye contact. He felt like an overflilled dam, splintering under the mounting pressure of the water behind. Dams weren't meant to burst. They should be patched up and reinforced.

"That's good. The tingling means it's healing." Kihec said with a small smile, letting go and returning to the bedroll, dragging it into place.

Nearly the entire tent was taken up by the two temporary beds, but there was still a narrow space between them. Ownage was glad to be in Kihec's presence, but he couldn't quite shake off the awkwardness from their earlier conversation.

He trusted the general a lot. Enough to sleep in the same tent as him.

"There," Kihec said, patting the bedroll and moved back to his own, deliberately giving the prince space.

They sat on their respective bedrolls for a long moment. Ownage didn't know what to talk about. If he opened his mouth about what had happened today, he wasn't sure it would close again.

The warmth of Kihec's gaze on him didn't help one bit. Nerves twisted in his stomach, churning in all sorts of ways. What was he supposed to say? Kihec was clearly waiting for him to speak.

This was too much for him. Instinctively, his hands wandered, coming up to fidget with his outfit. He tightened various fastenings, trying to pull his mind away from the situation.

Hands closed over Ownage's, gentler this time. He gasped softly, his head snapping up to meet the general's gaze. Kihec lowered their hands until they rested in the prince's lap.

"Quit that," Kihec said firmly.

Kihec didn't look happy, stare lingering on Ownage's outfit. It was clear he wanted to undo the fastenings, make them looser and more comfortable. Kihec just wanted him to feel safe. Yeah. That was it.

The prince held down the urge to spill everything, to tell him all of it. Instead, he straightened, pushing his chest forward and silently offered permission. The general let out a surprised exhale, releasing his grip and trailing his hands up to the laces.

The soft sound of fabric loosening and the ability to breathe in fully was both welcomed and hated.

Ownage hadn't expected that he would remove the entire tunic. The absence of weight made him feel cold and bare before the general, left only in his pale gold undershirt. His mind immediately snapped to the romance novels hidden under his mattress back in the castle.

The man in the stories was always such a gentleman, careful and attentive, peeling layers back slowly, checking on her often. Ownage thought it was terribly sweet, eagerly turning the pages, a lover for love itself. Then, inevitably, the story took a... heated turn.

Kihec didn't stop, either—not like the books taught him to expect. Instead, he focused on his undershirt, finding even the smallest clasps Anne had sewn on, unclasping them. He knew they didn't really make it tighter around him, he just liked the action. The plain order.

Even his pants soon felt like just a sheet draped over him.

"Kihec...? What're you doing?" He finally spoke up, far too late.

"I'm sorry." Kihec whispered. "Is this too much for you?"

Is he actually...?

Kihec didn't stop, but did shift farther from Ownage. "You shouldn't do this to yourself. Look, isn't that better?" he said while tugging on his collar. "Looser. You can breathe properly now. Comfortable?"

The prince didn't know how to respond, he felt like one of the women in the romance novels. That thought was jarring. That can't be right, because he wasn't a woman. And he wasn't supposed to feel like that.

Kihec pulled away immediately, retreating to his side of the tent.

What? What is he doing? Wasn't he going to try and initiate something further?

"Ownage," Kihec tilted his head. "Do you feel less restricted? I want you to be able to talk to me without such constraints." He looked nervous, and the dots began to finally connect.

Oh Gods. Oh no.

Ownage felt painfully stupid. Why would he ever think Kihec was removing his clothes for that reason? What a warped, perverted assumption! The general hadn't crossed any line at all, he was just preventing his obsession with order from getting in the way.

Kihec didn't know. Right? He couldn't read Ownage's deranged mind. Right? He could still save his dignity.

...Right?

"Gods, Ownage. I'm so sorry if I made you uncomfortable." Kihec groaned and fell back, pressing his palms to his eyes. "I know tight clothing makes you feel safer. I should've asked before taking that away from you."

He sounded genuinely guilty about something Ownage wasn't even thinking about.

The general didn't know. Ownage's dignity as a prince was safe. Thank Sol and every other God out there.

"No, Kihec! You're fine, I promise!" Ownage cried out accidentally, his voice overpowering his usual self-control. "There's nothing wrong. You're right, I should take down all of my defenses before we speak."

Kihec sat back up, moving closer. "You don't understand. I should've asked for your further consent to take all of it away!"

"I know. It's in the past. I have almost nothing on—I'm bare to you." He explained firmly, leaving no room for argument. "Let's talk, Kihec."

The man before him appeared astonished, eyes wide like an owl's. He searched Ownage's eyes, and when he seemed satisfied with what he found, his eyes softened and drooped in relaxation.

"Okay," he said simply. "Tell me what's bothering you right now."

Kihec waited patiently until Ownage gathered his thoughts. Somewhere along the way he had ended up in the general's bedroll, tucked beneath the woolen sheets. It was so comfortable that he could feel the exhaustion creeping up on him, heavy on his eyelids.

That could wait. First he desperately needed to empty his chest, to practically vent about his day to Kihec.

"Today was...confusing." He started off with, and then fell flat, unfinished.

Kihec waited.

"And I have so many questions," Ownage continued, pressing his lips together as heat crawled up his throat, horribly familiar.

The dam was splitting.

It never broke all at once. First the concrete cracked and created deep fractures in the walls. Water spilled out in slow traitorous trickles—then failure. Complete humiliation. It shattered like glass and water burst free, tears fell down Ownage's cheeks before he could stop them.

A choked sob tore out of him, and he flicked his eyes back up to watch the—

—not pitiful expression on Kihec's face.

He was still watching him, steady and unreadable. No softened eyes, crossed arms. It wasn't hard to believe Kihec wouldn't pity him. He wasn't that type of general.

"When everyone started talking about me," Ownage forced out, as if there was a time limit. "It was like they'd never even heard of me. I'm not a princess, why would they think I'm a princess? Why do they not know me?"

If he stopped, he wouldn't be able to continue, so he didn't.

Kihec exhaled, humorless. He tightened his arm at Ownage's back before he could fold in on himself.

"Ah," he said quietly. "Of course you don't know."

He chuckled bitterly, hollow of amusement. Resignation.

"To start," Kihec continued, voiec steady. "Your parents never filed a single document on you. No evidence of your birth, no public announcements, nothing."

Ownage went still.

"There is a document." Kihec added, jaw tightening, "but its a false one. A princess. Sloppy. Badly inked. There wasn't even a name saved on the scroll. We have found no evidence of a princess ever staying in the castle. Zero witnesses to confirm that she is, in fact, real."

He paused, drawing in a long, deep breath. Bracing for the next words he was about to say.

"Long story short," Kihec said, low and blunt, "they never told anyone about you."

Ownage blinked at him, as if he'd were speaking a foreign language. Words crashed into his chest, and hurt flooded into his heart like a hurricane. And for a second, he wanted nothing more than to be back in the palace. Safe, unknowing.

"Why...?" he whispered.

"The truth is, I don't know," Kihec answered honestly. "But I think your invisible life may be linked to the disease that wiped out half of Sol. Remember what that one woman said?"

Yes. He did. Recalling it hurt, but he did it anyway.

"Anyway," Kihec continued, face growing colder.

Ownage hated the look on his face and the way it felt as though it was being directed at him.

"There was a big disease... then it just vanished one day." He huffed, letting go of Ownage and crossing his arms. "Citizens love blaming coincidences on royals. My family knows all about that. Probably why they'd hide you."

Kihec must've realized how irritated he sounded. He sighed and wrapped his arms around the prince again.

"I'm sorry about your parents," he said, but his voice carried a strange, ominous edge.

"What about my parents?" Ownage asked, unease eating away at him.

Kihec blink in surprise, then a haunting look of realization crossed his eyes.

"I... I forgot to tell you. Fucking hell."

"What happened, Kihec?" He questioned with far more urgency. "Kihec? Kihec?"

They stared at each other for a moment, searching each other's eyes.

"Are they... dead?" Ownage mumbled.

The general's lips pressing into a thin line was enough of an answer for him. Ownage rose slowly, brushing off his arms. His movements were heavy with disbelief. Kihec was up in a heartbeat as well, following closely behind.

"Ownage, don't go out there. It's cold, and you'll freeze." Kihec tried to reason, wrapping his arms around him. "Gods, you're barely dressed."

"They're dead. I don't know how to feel. These last few days have been the most stressful days in my life. I don't know how to go on." He choked, tears returning full force.

Ownage couldn't stay here, not in Sol—not when the citizens didn't even know he existed, not when his parents were gone.

"I know, Ownage." Kihec whispered softly, recognizing the prince folding in on himself. "Come back in, please."

The general lead him back into the tent, leading him to his bedroll. Through the haze of hot, blinding tears, Ownage clung to him, grateful to have an anchor—someone to hold on to.

He rested against Kihec's chest, sobbing into his shoulder. Why me? Why me? A soothing hand ran through his hair, accompanied by his gentle voice. Ownage couldn't comprehend what he was saying, yet the combined ministrations lulled him into a fragile calm.

His eyelids became heavy. Their raw conversation was over, all of it faded into the background. Ownage assumed all the answers he'd get would only get worse, so he allowed himself to drift. His eyes fluttered shut, slipping into a dreamless sleep.

—Kihec—

Kihec woke slowly, stretching—or, trying to—but something heavy pinned him down. His eyes snapped open, narrowing at whatever was on his chest.

Then the memories of last night rushed back. Ownage crying his eyes out, devastated. Kihec helpless to do anything about it, except providing a comforting place to rest. The general didn't think he was a very comforting person in the slightest, but he successfully got Ownage to rest.

The prince deserved rest. The whole day, if it were possible. The question was how he could maneuver him off his chest without waking him. Which, Kihec didn't see himself ever accomplishing this in any universe.

But he needed get his affairs in order. A duke would soon arrive in Sol, ready to take hold of the kingdom. It felt cruel, almost evil, to hand the crown away from Ownage, but he had nothing left but his lineage here.

Even so, he severely doubted the prince wanted to stay in a place so hostile, so unwelcoming towards him.

Kihec braced himself, tightening his arms around Ownage. He didn't know how deeply the prince slept; he wasn't trained to stay alert, like a soldier. He prayed that the prince wouldn't wake, immediately confused and afraid, plagued with the events of last night.

Holding his breath, he lifted him off, inching out of his weight. It was steady and deliberate. He kept Ownage still, slowly placing him back down on the bedroll. Once he had confirmed that no, the prince hadn't roused, he placed the sheet back over him.

Without a sound, he crept out of the tent. Frostie and Buodq sat shoulder to shoulder, chatting idly over breakfast.

Buodq was the first to notice him, waving him over and patting the ground beside him.

"There he is! What's going on, General?" Buodq said with a smirk. "You're usually up earlier than all of us."

"And where's Ownage?" Frostie added, "I thought he spent the night with you."

Kihec let out a quiet breath, sitting down and accepting a bowl handed to him by the healer. He held no appetite, but still willed himself to take a few bites.

"Rough night," he said, his grip on the bowl loosening. "I'm letting him sleep for as long as he desires."

"Oooh, rough night?" Buodq's smirk stretched wider as he leaned in close to the general. "You took care of him, then? Phew, bet his back hurts!"

"Buodq," Kihec warned, "I will have you running drills all day with HugeDeer."

The color drained from the soldier's face, somehow even paler than before. He squeaked and reeled back as if he'd been punched. His arms flew out to trap Frostie against him. He buried his face in Frostie's hair, making a loud, dramatic sob.

"Frostieeeee, help me!" Buodq wailed, ugly crying with enthusiasm. "Don't let him make me do drills with that guy! Lieutenant is so mean to me!"

"Get off me, you hound!" Frostie yelled, grabbing his arms and tearing them off him.

"No! Never!"

"Off me, you albino-looking asshole!"

"Uh-uh."

"Buodq. HugeDeer. Now," Kihec hissed.

Finally noticing that he had only dug his grave deeper, Buodq peeled of the poor healer. Frostie's hair was a disaster, sticking out in all sorts of directions. They both watched Buodq retreat, grumbling about how "Lieutenant was gonna abuse him".

"He is such a handful." Frostie exhaled hard, folding his arms.

"Eh. Lively. I'd rather him over a complete ass-kisser." Kihec shrugged, absentmindedly reaching out to smooth out some of the healer's strands.

"Anyway, Kihec." Frostie continued, tone shifting. "Trainer's off healing our injured soldiers. I hate to admit it, but his powers have grown stronger than mine."

Despite the hint of defeat on his face, the general could tell Frostie was proud.

"But I don't want to get into that. Ownage is the one I wanted to speak with you about."

The general's eyes narrowed at the healer. "We did not sleep together last night," He said firmly, "it was just a chat."

After a moment he added, "I was just nervous. I've never asked anyone if they wanted to stay with me for a night, I suppose."

His scattered thoughts were interrupted by unusual booming laughter from Frostie.

"You—!" Frostie doubled over, uncontrollable laughter spilling out of him. "Hahaha! Ah... Gods! haha. I'm—I'm not asking whether you worked him sore or anything!" He wheezed, clutching his stomach.

"Pipe down, healer!" The general snapped, throwing a hand over Frostie's mouth. "I think you just let half of camp know!"

"Mmmphh—mhphmm?" Frostie retorted.

Less than pleased, Kihec didn't remove his hand until the other man stopped folding in half and straightened up, though his shoulders still shook. What was so amusing?

"Ahem. Pfft—" he immediately failed, breaking into giggles again.

"Frostie," Kihec groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Do I also need to send you to run drills as well?"

Prayers to Vere, he wished he still were still in the tent with Ownage. Warm, cozy, and most importantly, not talking to Frostie.

"Okay, okay! I'll stop, I'll stop." He took a deep breath, as though sheer will might keep the laughter at bay.

Finally, the healer fully composed himself.

"I know you two didn't partake in improper activities together." Frostie clarified, then ruined it with a wink. "Did you tell him about the situation with the crown?"

"Yes. I did. Last night," Kihec confirmed.

"Okay, good. I have some more information."

That piqued the general's interest, and he scooted closer to hear him out.

"Simply put, their deaths were self-inflicted. They used a loose bar with a sharpened tip to end their own lives," Frostie stated plainly.

Gods above... it was not as gruesome as some of the cases he'd heard about, but it was up there. Even a seasoned general would've raised an eyebrow. To take one's life using nothing but a sharp bar? Kihec couldn't fathom it.

"Gods above, that's appalling," he muttered, shaking his head, trying hard not to picture the disgusting image in his mind.

Frostie nodded, then something cold settled over his features.

"I don't feel bad for them." He spat with unusual venom.

"Why?" Kihec prodded, aware he was poking a sleeping bear.

"Why?!" He snapped. "Kihec, did you see how they treated their own son?!" Frostie's suddenly rose. "Well—you didn't see, but I'm certain Ownage told you!"

"Frostie—"

"Listen," Frostie clapped a hand over Kihec's mouth, a dark look that the general only saw in corrupted soldiers written all over his face. "I sense these things in people, their aches within that can't be healed. Not physically—but mentally. And Kihec... it's bad. It's so, so bad..." he trailed off, unable to curb the anger, the fury.

Realizing what he'd done, the healer ripped his hand away from Kihec's mouth. The weight of his disrespect settled in, disappointment in himself ramped up.

"Frostie, I understand," Kihec said, gripping his shoulders, keeping him close. "You're angry. I am too, but we can't change the past."

"General," Frostie replied flatly, "I wish that I was the one to end their lives," his jaw tightened. "How, how could you not only hide your heir from the world—but also give them so much trauma they don't remember half of it?"

Kihec blinked. "What? How do you know he doesn't remember?"

While he spoke, his fingers drifted up fussing with Frostie's hair.

He knew the former couple's habits well. Dario always did that whenever Frostie was stressed or angry.

"I told you," he hissed. "I sense it. That poor man is missing half of his life. Maybe... maybe it's for the better that he doesn't remember."

Kihec flinched as Frostie yanked his hands away, glaring at him once more, cutting through air like a knife

"Calm down, okay?" Kihec pleaded, holding up his hands in a truce.

'The corruption... the corruption, Frostie. You're making it get worse,' he thought, dread creeping up his spine.

The healer exhaled sharply, collapsing back to where he originally sat. He buried his face in his palms, groaning in frustration.

Kihec didn't say it. He couldn't. Naming the infection was too dark a truth for any of their close circle to acknowledge. He was sure Frostie knew. He could see it in how he was beginning to get his affairs in order.

Kihec and Frostie weren't the same.

The general could keep going, powering through the corruption. It would never be able to reach his soul, always festering in his gut.

With Frostie, it was different. Slower, maybe, but it was patient. One day in the near future, he would get caught beneath the waves and never resurface.

"I will leave you in peace, healer." Kihec said, watching him nod in response. "And tell Trainer to heal the headache you undoubtedly gave yourself."

A humorless laugh followed behind him as he walked towards the castle. Just like with Dario, Kihec felt the cold settling in his stomach.

Before they set out to Vere, he would have to decide how much of himself to sell in order to protect Ownage from the dark forests.