#so decided to match the bobs pattern but with a little differentiation in the beads between the blues

[your-fave-is-bi]

using my bracelet making power for only the mightiest of purposes

[findingschmomo]

[IwaOi] And All the Prince’s Men Part I - Moments

Title: [IwaOi] And All the Prince’s Men Pairings: IwaOi Rating: T Genre: Royal AU, Child Abuse, Angst, Friendship "Father only loves that which he owns, and I am the one thing that can never truly be his."

In which Iwaizumi Hajime is a young orphan suddenly thrust upon the royal court, and Oikawa is the Prince he's been assigned to. A story of their friendship and love, of their years spent together and apart, of their losses suffered and their wins hard fought. Links: AO3

Iwaizumi Hajime is taken from his bed in the middle of the night. He drags his feet, eyes bleary in the darkness, sleep-addled mind confused. Strong hands grip his forearm and pull him roughly down the hallway.

He squints when he’s forced outside into the pale moonlight, head groggy. He mumbles something, he doesn’t even know what, and is hauled into an open cart. There are other orphans there, most are awake, eyes wide and fearful. Iwaizumi recognizes a few in the silver light.

The crack of a whip breaks the air and the cart starts moving. He looks over at the shack that had been his home for years. He looks back over at the sea of terrified eyes in the cart, huddling together and shivering.

He closes his eyes and goes back to sleep.

Iwaizumi Hajime is woken up when the rhythmic clomping of the cart comes to an abrupt halt. Shouts are exchanged and the screech of a gate being opened has the children around him covering their ears. The smell in the cart is putrid, Iwaizumi realizes, and he decides he wants to get out.

He stands up, legs numb from being folded up all night, making him sway. He steadies himself on the wood railing of the cart, using it as a guide as he picks his way through the wriggling little limbs of the other orphans until he finds himself at the very back. He plans on jumping off when the cart jerks back into motion.

There’s a moment where he has to catch himself, hands gripping the bottom railing tight enough that splinters dig into his palms. The motion has his head bob out of the cart, squinting in the onslaught of sunlight. The road is paved hear in cobblestone, recently washed. The grass is green and tidy along the sides, and as they move he is able to see the enormous white gate that had paused their journey.

He gapes at it. It’s blinding, the way it reflects the sun, swallowing up the light only to shine it out as a bright expanse of white. It’s two men high and Iwaizumi immediately feels the need to climb it. Longs for the challenge of it. He imagines the bars to be slick and polished, no dents or pits for proper foot holes. An impossible climb.

He grins.

The gate fades in the distance as the cart keeps moving. Iwaizumi sits down, letting his little legs slip through the wooden railing so they dangle outside the cart, bouncing to the rhythm of the hoof beats. He starts pulling at the splinters in his hands as he takes in the view. The yard they are in is beautiful. Lush trees planted alongside blue and white flowers border the cobblestone paths. Servants pass back and forth, hurried in their motions.

They must be at some noble’s mansion Iwaizumi figures, though for reasons beyond his comprehension. He wonders if he can figure out which noble based solely on the yard. But he barely paid attention to the Sisters’ lectures back in the orphanage about the neighboring Lords and Ladies. He just knew he had to be on his best behavior when they visited.

He at least remembers Lord Hanamaki’s visit. His mansion is the closest, and he had been searching for a personal attendant for his son to grow up with him.

That was normally why nobles visited orphanages. Always because they wanted something--or rather, someone.

Iwaizumi assumes this trip must be for similar effect. Though he imagines this noble must be exceedingly lazy to round up orphans to bring to him rather than just visiting the home. At least It’s a nice change of pace and a refreshing view from the bland colors of the old farm.

He stands again at the edge of the cart, trying to peer around the wagon to see what manor they were headed for. He wonders if it is Lord Hanamaki’s. It’s the only elite family he really knows.

He gasps, eyes widening at the sight of the castle suddenly coming into view in front of him. He ducks back into the cart, hands suddenly sweaty with an onset of nerves.

Correction.

He did know one other powerful family in the kingdom.

The cart comes to a halt, jolting its terrified passengers. A guard swings around along with the driver into view. Iwaizumi scurries back from the edge, suddenly self conscious of the rags he is dressed in. His face is most likely covered in dirt. He had not seen a bath in weeks.

The wooden rail is opened and the guard shouts, “Alright, everybody out! And be quick about it. We don’t want to keep the King waiting!”

Iwaizumi can feel the fear emanating off the other orphans as they are torn from the cart and filed into the looming castle. Iwaizumi swallows and follows, trying to blend in as best he can with the larger group.

He had never in his wildest dreams imagined he would meet the King of Aoba Johsai, let alone in his piss stained rags and mud caked hair. Utter shame seeps into his gut, weighing him down and making each step heavier. Iwaizumi had never really liked to dwell on his current rank in life, and so it had never really bothered him. He was strong and healthy, and tilling the fields could always be punctuated with fun moments, like finding cool insects or enjoying a cool breeze or climbing an especially tall tree. He had never been self conscious about his shoeless feet.

But at this moment, as he trudges into the castle and feels ice prickle at his toes through the white tiled floor, he feels nothing but nausea at what kind of greeting awaited him. He keeps his eyes low, barely taking in the Great Hall that expands around him, ornate and beautiful.

The King is a righteous ruler, but a cold and strict one. His reputation is one spilling more blood than honey. Iwaizumi curls his toes as he is forced to stand in a certain group. He takes a breath, tries to swallow down the revulsion and take in his surroundings.

The guards are inspecting the orphan boys, dividing them into two groups. Iwaizumi can’t quite comprehend their exact aim with this, but as more children are categorized, it becomes clear there is at least one superficial aspect differentiating the two.

To the left stand the scrawny kids who look underfed and to the right were the kids who had built a bit of muscle working the fields. Iwaizumi had been placed with the latter.

One guard takes his time checking over each scrawny kid, counting teeth and inspecting hair for lice. He has them walk back and forth to see how they carry themselves, whether their shoulders droop or remain stiff. He has them lift trays, balancing items as they walk in careful circles. Throughout the little performances he directs boys back and forth. Those who do not pass are sent back to the cart.

Iwaizumi isn’t sure if he wants to stay or be sent back.

The second guard is with his group. He also checks their mouths for missing teeth and their hair for lice. He touches their arms too, feeling for budding muscles, testing the waters of burgeoning strength. He makes them run, from one end of the hall to the other, checking for speed and stamina.

Iwaizumi passes, too nervous and uncertain to try to hide any of his skills. He stands in the winning group as the other exhausted boys are herded back to the cart. There are still more boys to be tested but a halting whisper sweeps through the room. An ominous chill creeps up the backs of both guards and servants, scaring the children stiff.

The guards stop their observations and quickly shove the untested children back toward the cart.

The scrawny group is lined up and told to stay quiet. Iwaizumi feels a boy in his group clutch his hand. He squeezes back in acknowledgement. He doesn’t dare move his head to see who it is.

He can hear voices coming. Arguing in hushed tones, getting closer. Getting louder. Iwaizumi holds his breath.

A soft boyish plea murmurs into the hall, caught only by how silent the rest of the world had become, “Father, please I’m tired. I don’t want to keep--”

“Tooru, for the last time, this is not a discussion. Now stop talking back to me before I get angry!” The thick air is sucked into a vacuum as the harsh tone bellows through the hall. It’s as if no one can breathe now, especially with the voice’s owner--The King of Aoba Johsai--stepping into view.

Iwaizumi tries to stand up straighter, balls of his feet rising in the effort until he stands on his tiptoes. He exhales the breath he was holding, letting himself fall back to the flats of his feet. Relax, he tells himself. The boy holding his hand grips him tighter.

The King is still a distance away, but his crisp white uniform and glistening crown make him all the more imposing even from afar. He cradles a young boy with matching black hair in his arms. His head is buried in his father’s neck, but everyone in the room knows who he must be. Iwaizumi counts in his head. He remembers celebrating the young prince’s first birthday, years ago in town.

Prince Tobio must be three years old now.

Trailing the King is another young boy, Iwaizumi’s age (he was also certain of that), clad in his own crisp white tunic with light blue beading that caught the sunlight spilling into the room and made him dazzle. The young boy keeps pace, head high, his beautiful hair styled perfectly in place. Nestled in the brown strands is a simple tiara that sparkled, creating dancing patterns along the walls that shifted with each step.

Iwaizumi can not take his eyes off of him. His hands feel sweaty in the presence of royalty and he quickly pries his one arm free from the other boy’s clutches. It‘s much too hot in the tightly packed group of children. He wants out. But the guard sends him a harsh glare and he finds himself rooted to the spot.

The beautiful prince stops walking, and it is then that Iwaizumi notices just how tired the poor boy looks. His face is a deteriorating mask of politeness. Underneath the plastered smile Iwaizumi can see the tenseness of his jaw, hinting at clenched teeth.  His brown eyes prove even more obvious, eyelids battling to stay open as sweat beads by his brow. A portrait of pure exhaustion, framed by his trembling legs.

Prince Tooru speaks again, “Father, I don’t wan--”

There is a crack in the room, and Prince Tooru falls to his knees, clutching the side of his reddening face. The King straightens back up, shaking his hand loosely in the air, “I warned you, Tooru, I was getting angry.” he growls out, “Now, look, you’ve created a scene! Is that what you wanted?”

“Get back in line!”

It takes a moment for Iwaizumi to realize the guard’s sudden bark is directed at him because it is in that same moment that the Prince has turned towards him. Brown eyes filled with fear and shame and guilt bore into Iwaizumi’s face and Iwaizumi wants to reach out to him more than anything.

He must have instinctively rushed forward, because he soon realizes he has stepped out of the group entirely. It is a short lived freedom, because the guard soon forces him back with an especially rough shove. Prince Tooru’s stare follows him into the crowd before looking back down at the ground.

“You’re putting on a show for the peasants now? Come on Tooru get up, is this the Prince you want the world to see?” The King huffs, tapping his foot impatiently. The boy in his arms squirms, but keeps his face firmly nuzzled in the crook of his neck.

Prince Tooru stands up on shaky legs and pushes his chin up high. Iwaizumi can see him blinking furiously up at the ceiling. Not a single tear falls down his face.

“Now, if you’re so desperate to go to bed, pick your new attendant quickly and you can be dismissed.” The King snaps nudging the boy towards the line of scrawny children. Prince Tooru almost stumbles again from the shove, but his chin never points downward for a second. He stands, resolute in front of the cowering line of boys his age.

But then he turns, completely, as if bored by the array and locks eyes once again with Iwaizumi, “I want him.” He declares, index finger pointing directly at Iwaizumi’s forehead.

“Those boys are for the knight program. Pick from this line-up.” The King dismisses easily, barely sparing Iwaizumi so much as a glance.

Prince Tooru remains resolute and Iwaizumi is impressed at how defiant he can be despite what had just transpired. A fire seems to burn in those brown eyes that nothing could tamp down, not exhaustion nor a father’s cruel words. Something clenches in Iwaizumi’s chest as he tries not to dwell on it. He decides it must be from all of the sudden attention.

“Every boy before now has not made it.” The Prince argues, keeping his gaze firmly on Iwaizumi, “Doesn’t to give me someone stronger than the usual lot?”

The King seems to consider this a moment, before turning to the guard, “Bring the boy out here for a closer look.”

Iwaizumi is now pulled roughly out of the group. He had longed to be free of the oppressive mob  but now he feels vulnerable and naked. Again he is reminded of the rags barely clothing his body, of the dirt caked to his face, of the revolting smell he probably exudes. He looks down at his bare feet, feeling a burn in the back of his eyes.

But then he thinks of the Prince and he decides that if he would not put his head down, then he should not either. So he looks up, green eyes finding brown and stands up straighter.

“Your name, boy,” the guard orders.  

Iwaizumi swallows and keeps his eyes connected to the Prince’s. It’s easier then having them wander about the expansive room, or worse, try to figure out how he is supposed to look at the King.

“Iwaizumi Hajime,” he announces, and his voice does not shake as much as he had feared.

The Prince grins, an expression that looks a little lopsided from the swelling on the side of his face. Iwaizumi can see a weltforming on his cheek in the shape of an expensive ring. He feels his fists tighten at his sides at the sight of it.

“An ugly boy with an ugly voice.” The King scoffs. Iwaizumi feels his face burn, but he does not look down. He bites his tongue and keeps his eyes trained on the Prince.

“He’s perfect.” The Prince insists in turn. Iwaizumi feels his neck burn and something bubble in his chest. He had never been called perfect in his entire life.

“If you insist, Tooru. We’ll have him cleaned up and trained for you.” The King sighs, turning away from Iwaizumi to look back at the line up of skinny orphans, “And no, you are not dismissed yet, help me pick an attendant for your brother and some new servants.”

Iwaizumi does not see which other boys share his similar fate because he is whisked away by one of the male servants and ushered deeper into the castle. His gaze is torn from the Prince’s and he suddenly feels disoriented, like the ground had suddenly been ripped right from under him.

-----------------------

Iwaizumi Hajime does not see the Prince, nor any member of the royal family for another week. instead, he is passed from servant to servant, room to room, as they ‘clean up the last one’s mess’.

Every boy before now has not made it.

They were words spoken by the Prince himself, that Iwaizumi had almost completely forgotten. But each worried glance his direction, each apologetic smile, each mention of it is so troublesome to get blood out of the sheets, keeps the words spinning in his brain.

Just what had happened to the previous attendant?

No one will tell him. That’s the first lesson he learns. No one answers any of his questions unless they pertain exactly to the task at hand. And so he decides to keep his mouth shut, not to push, and go with the motions.

It’s weird work. Work he’s never really done before, and he had started helping the Sister’s with the field by the age of five. He had four years worth of training in planting, animal husbandry, and general manual labor. All seemingly useless to him now.

“Come along Iwaizumi, you won’t need to do this for long.” The laundry maid calls from over her stack of clothing. Iwaizumi pulls his gaze away from the knights in training, running laps around the grounds. He shifts the heavy basket in his arms and follows after the woman.

They stop at the drying lines and Iwaizumi begins handing the maid folded clothing with newfound practiced ease. It feels as if he has spent the whole week learning how to fold anything and everything correctly. He hadn’t even known there were wrong ways to fold things! He had bruises on his palms to prove it now.

“When you take on your responsibilities you will not be in charge of the young Prince’s laundry. But you will have to keep everything organized and operating smoothly. It is important to know how it all works and check in from time to time. Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am,” Iwaizumi responds quietly.

She smiles at him, pinning some sheets to the line and pulling them nice and taught. She steps over to the next empty space. Iwaizumi lifts out another sheet, seeing the pesky stains of blood, faded but still present on the linen.

Every boy before now has not made it.

Iwaizumi tries not to think about it and gives the sheet to the maid. She tsks in annoyance, “There’s just no way to get it out.” She sighs, but then eyes the boy beside her, “Well, this may be lucky for you.”

Iwaizumi looks up at her curiously at the comment.

“These sheets are no longer fit for the Prince but it would be a waste to throw them out. Have you seen your future room yet?” She asks.

“No, ma’am. I have been staying with the butlers in the servants wing.”

She continues, “You’ll be moved to the room attached to the Prince’s chamber soon enough. It’s very small, but you will have it to yourself. No bed, just straw and a few rough sheets.”

Iwaizumi nods. He had been told probably every day this week of his future living arrangements. How lucky he is to have a whole room to himself.

“Now, how would you feel having some silken sheets as well? What a wonderful homecoming present I’ve thought of!”

Iwaizumi forces a smile despite the nausea circling in his stomach. His eyes keep being drawn to the horrid stain. His predecessor’s blood. He feels sick.

“Iwaizumi, you’re such a sweet boy. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” The maid pats his head, and Iwaizumi doesn’t feel very comforted.

“Iwaizumi!”

The sweet boy in question turns around immediately, stiffly, “Yes, sir?”

The guard comes trotting over, “The King has called for you to start your duties tonight.”

“Tonight?” Iwaizumi repeats, feeling sweat slick his palms, making his grip on the sheet in his hands tenuous as best, “I still have weeks of training.”

“Orders from the King.” The guard repeats. The maid takes the sheet from his small hands and Iwaizumi can feel her hand squeeze his arm. It doesn’t comfort him. The guard continues as he comes closer, “Your training will continue, do not worry. Now hurry, you need to be bathed.”

Iwaizumi is passed to the next butler he and the guard come across. The guard whispers instruction to the man’s ear who nods and takes Iwaizumi’s forearm in hand to drag him back inside from the castle grounds. Iwaizumi much prefers the grounds to the interior castle. He had dedicated his minimal downtime the past few days to exploring it in detail. He had barely scratched the surface.

There was an orchard on the grounds, myriads of flowers and courts. To the west he could see a beautiful forest he was antsy to run through, but the tall imperial gate surrounded the grounds and barred him from leaving without certain permission. One day, he promises himself.

Inside the castle is loud and hectic. Servants run back and forth from rooms in mild panic. Actually, much more panic than usual, Iwaizumi thinks, as he presses himself against the butler attached to him to get out of the way of a running maid.

“What’s going on?” He asks.

The butler gives him a glance, bites his lip and tugs him up the stairs. It’s quieter here, as they get closer to the servants quarters, with all of them being out and about. He’s shoved into the bathroom and the butler closes the door behind him.

“Hurry now, undress. One of the maids should have drawn you a bucket already.” The butler hisses, hurrying over to confirm the action.

Iwaizumi slips off his hand me down slip. He had already had a thorough bathing when he first arrived. Years of grime had been scrubbed off him. His dark skin lightened somewhat and his hair felt smooth running through his fingers.

There was less dirty this time to scrub off himself, but there also seemed much less time.

“Now listen,” The butler begins, helping the boy clean his back, “You asked what’s going on correct? Well, I feel, perhaps its best you know so you’re ready tonight.” Iwaizumi stares at him, “His Majesty and the Prince had a disagreement. It’s best not to talk about it. They’re both in a foul mood now. His Majesty believes an attendant can keep the Prince calm and quiet his tantrums. Anyway, I know it’s sudden, but I’m sure you’ll be fine. Just be aware not to step on the Prince’s toes. He’s already very upset.”

“Is this what happened to the other attendants?” Iwaizumi can not help but ask, quietly, into his bare knees.

The butler seems to stiffen, his scrubbing motions falling still. He lets out a sigh, “No one knows what happened to them.” He confesses, “The Prince is always torn up about it but you can’t help thinking...” The butler seems to catch himself, fingers digging into the block of soap. He swallows, “Just, be careful and be smart tonight. Now hurry and dry yourself, the tailor has finished your uniform just in time.”

Iwaizumi dries off quickly, passing into the neighboring room where his uniform has been laid out. He slips on the pale blue leggings first, easily. He looks at the rest of the uniform, a simple white tunic, but the nicest thing he’s ever worn. He is immediately terrified to stain it. Why must white be one of the kingdom’s official colors? The tunic falls to his knees, a bit big but not enough to warrant the effort to change. A corded light blue sash ties along his waist.

The butler nods, “Alright, head up to the Prince’s chambers. He should be retiring soon.”

“Where is he now?” Iwaizumi asks, trying to distract himself.

“Sparring practice.”

Iwaizumi blinks, stopping mid stride, “Still?”

The butler swallows, pulling him along, “Yes.”

“He started practicing before lunch! It’s almost sundow-“

“It may be what the argument was about.” The butler cuts in quietly, pushing the boy back through the main hall. This time they climb the ornate main stairs, heading toward the royal chambers.

“Won’t the Prince be having dinner soon?” Iwaizumi asks, as the chamber doors come into view.

The butler doesn’t look at him as he pushes open the door to reveal the opulent room. It is Iwaizumi’s first time in here and he gasps. He did not know beds could come so large! With four grand posts at every corner and a beautiful silken blue canopy draped above. A window overlooks the beautiful forest that tugs at Iwaizumi’s heart.

A table and chair sits to the side, set up for an untouched game of chess. To the right a tall book case filled with books, and to the right of that, a writing desk. Iwaizumi isn’t given the chance to explore as he is shoved into the side chamber, revealing a closet sized room with a slit of a window.

His room.

There’s a pile of sheets on the floor, hay stuffed beneath them. There’s an old wooden wardrobe in the corner next to the window. The butler opens it, nodding, “Good. You have a second uniform in here. You are in charge of washing your own garments, remember.”

Iwaizumi nods, pulling at the sleeves of his outfit. The butler keeps talking, “You will hear him as he comes down the hall. Be in his room and await instructions from him.”

Before Iwaizumi can ask anymore questions or beg the man to stay a little longer, he leaves. Iwaizumi takes a deep breath, sinking down into his sheets, feeling the walls moving too close to him. He had not been alone in a week. Not truly alone, like this, in a cell awaiting his imminent sacrifice.

He had spent the week fearing this day, with the worried whispers shared between all the servants.

What a sweet boy.

What a shame.

The Prince is always so upset, it can’t be his--

Who else?

The Prince is rotten, we all see it!

So lazy, complains about every task, so dreadful. No wonder His Majesty is so hard on him.

But what a sweet boy, Iwaizumi is.

If only he could have been a knight.

Iwaizumi pulls at the straw beneath him in a sudden fit. He tries to calm down, tries to empty his mind of other words and remember what he had seen. Seen with his own two eyes. A boy, his age, beautiful but stubborn but just a child. Not a monster. The only monster he recalls from the scene is the King himself, and his silver ringed fingers.

Iwaizumi takes another breath, but it hitches in his throat as he hears stomping coming closer, and a shrill voice pierce the silence, “I don’t care what he says! I’m done! No one is to bother me until morning do you hear me? Get out!”

Iwaizumi stands up, remembering the butler’s words, be in his room, await orders. He fumbles with his door knob before scrambling to stand in the Prince’s chamber. He takes another breath before straightening at attention--hands clasped behind his back--and waits.

The door is thrown open and the Prince storms in, slamming it shut behind him. Iwaizumi had not seen the Prince in days, and his beauty floors him. He’s stunning, as he runs his fingers through his hair, sweat dripping in torrents down his face.

That can’t be right.

The Prince before him is soaking in sweat, breath coming in ragged puffs as his chest heaves. He looks close to tears, Iwaizumi realizes, as their eyes lock. The Prince rears back in surprise, mouth opening in shock.

Iwaizumi feels himself flame up, realizing he’s not sure what he’s supposed to say, “Hello, sire, I don’t know if you remember me but I--“

“What are you doing here?!” The Prince screeches, backing into the door with a loud thud.  

“His Majesty-“

The Prince’s eyes seem to widen, “You have to get out. Get out! Get out right now!”

Iwaizumi blinks, not expecting this turn of events at all, “Are you sure?”

The Prince looks like he wants to rip his head off, teeth clenched, hands digging into the wood behind him, “GET OUT RIGHT NOW!”

Iwaizumi wastes no more time, scrambling behind as the Prince screams, and screams, and screams. Iwaizumi does not turn around as he shuts the door to his chamber behind him, diving into the pile of sheets and wrapping himself tight.

The Prince’s screams continue, guttural and pained and desperate. There are thuds and screeches and cracks in the air. The wall connecting them shakes and Iwaizumi covers his ears.

Iwaizumi knows tantrums well. Living in an orphanage full of sad forgotten children accustoms you to them. He had never heard of a tantrum like this.

He hears glass shatter.

He wonders if he’s supposed to stop this. If he was not supposed to leave the Prince to his devices and instead help him through this. But get out seemed as good an order as any to follow. Nevertheless, worry gnaws at his stomach, especially as screams and blows seem to give way to sobs and heaving.

He waits until the quiet returns to the air. He’s not sure how long it takes, but the moon is high in the night sky when he finally stands up from his pile of sheets. He opens his door softly, peering into the darkened room.

“Prince Tooru?” He whispers into the air.

“Go away.” Comes the muffled plea. Iwaizumi can tell it’s coming from the bed.

Iwaizumi takes a brave step forward. He can’t see anything in the dark, and he knows the room has probably changed a lot since he was last in it. So he treads carefully, using his arms and legs to feel out as he ventures in, “Are you hungry?”

“What?” The Prince responds, and he must have lifted his head from his pillow, because his voice is less muffled.

“You skipped dinner.” Iwaizumi explains, “I can bring you some food.”

The Prince seems to consider this by the pregnant pause in the air, “I’m too tired. Please don’t come any closer.”

Iwaizumi stops mid step, eyes adjusting to the darkness. The Prince has cocooned himself in his silken sheets. A lump in his bed, a mouth, nose and eye peeking out at him. Even in the darkness his eyes seem to shine.

“Are you sure?”

The Prince squints at him, fingers digging into his sheets, “Are you not afraid?”

Iwaizumi pulls at his own fingers, “I am.” He decides to be honest, “But,” Iwaizumi adds, bringing his eyes up to look at the young boy lying before him, “Aren’t you?”

The Prince’s visible eye widens, before looking away. He turns himself, completely around, so Iwaizumi can only see the lump of his back surrounded in silk. He wonder’s if he’s crossed some sort of line, scrambling in his head to figure out an apology.

“I’ll eat a snack.” The Prince mumbles, before Iwaizumi can respond, “But then you’ll leave me. I’m too tired to talk and eat.”

“Yes, sire.” Iwaizumi nods, padding carefully out of the room, picking his way through the minefield on the ground. He can’t figure the details but he knows there will be a huge mess to clean up in the morning.

He returns from the kitchen with some bread and and warmed up soup. He places the plate on the nightstand, taking a match he borrowed to light the candle. A soft light illuminates the dark room. The Prince has not moved from his cocoon, and Iwaizumi waits a moment before realizing he isn’t going to move at all.

He steps back over to his chamber door, gives a parting “Goodnight, sire,” before slipping into his tiny room.

He slips into his makeshift bed, tired, but can only fall asleep once he hears the quiet crunching of a boy eating a late night meal.

He has pleasant dreams.

------------------------------------

Iwaizumi Hajime is awakened by a rooster crowing by his window. He stretches the kinks out of his back. Sleep had been restful and easy, but his body is sore from lying on the ground.  He would need to get used to it. He slips his tunic back on, tying the sash around his waist and toeing on his shoes. He runs a few fingers through his hair.

He takes a deep breath and steels himself.

Light filters into the Prince’s bed chamber through the window. The closed drapes flutter a little in the morning breeze. He picks his way around the carnage to throw the drapes open, letting the sunlight spill through unimpeded.

Iwaizumi takes in the full damage. The book case is toppled over, some of the shelves splintered. Books are strewn across the room, some torn apart, some just bent out of shape. There is a gash in the paint of the wall, and a broken painting at its feet. Shards of glass are littered around it and Iwaizumi immediately sets to pick those up, carefully cupping them in his hand.

He steps out of the room entirely, seeing one of the maids moving through the hall. He waves at her, spilling the shards into one of her sacks to be disposed of.

“It’s good to see you, Iwaizumi.” She whispers with a smile.

Iwaizumi nods, pursing his lips, “Do you know the Prince’s schedule today?”

The maid glances at the closed chamber doors, “He has maths and history lessons today in the library. He’ll be having breakfast separately.”

Iwaizumi nods with a frown, “Thanks.”

She smiles at him, ruffles his hair and steps away to continue her sweeping. Iwaizumi slips back into the bed chambers. He pulls his leggings up, pulls his tunic back down neater, reties his sash before deciding to stop procrastinating.

The Prince is still sleeping in his enormous bed, still cocooned. A small little lump. The word cute comes to Iwaizumi’s mind and he shakes it off.

“Prince Tooru?”

He hears a groan from the lump as it shifts in place.

“Prince Tooru,” Iwaizumi sighs, reaching his hand out to nudge the royal’s shoulder.

The Prince pulls back, never spilling free from his silken prison and lets out a shout, “Don’t touch me!”

Iwaizumi freezes. Right. Of course. Servants can’t just touch royalty. He should have realized. He brings his hand back down. He wonders if this is it. Any mistake could be it. The King isn’t one to stand for them, so why would his son?

“Give me a moment to collect myself.” The Prince murmurs from his spot. Not angry, it seems. A bit...distracted, if anything? Iwaizumi says nothing and waits. He watches the lump shift, as the Prince evens out his breathing and after a moment, slowly sits up.

The sheets slip from him then, revealing his thin naked chest and unruly bedhead. Iwaizumi feels inclined to avert his eyes, but the Prince’s brown gaze holds him, “What was your name again?”

“Iwaizumi Hajime.”

“That’s a boring name.” The Prince decrees, and Iwaizumi feels his eyebrow twitch, “You need something better.”

“I don’t thin--“

“Excuse me? Who is the Prince in this room?” The Prince tuts with a teasing smile.

Iwaizumi can’t help raising his eyebrows, squinting his eyes.

“Oh wow! I’ve never seen so many wrinkles on a child! Did I pick an old man?” The Prince jeers.

Iwaizumi glowers, “I’m almost 10!”

“Well, so am I!” The Prince crawls closer, “When’s your birthday?”

“June 10th.” Iwaizumi murmurs.

“Mine’s July 20th.” The Prince grins, and Iwaizumi decides not to point out that he knew that already. That The the whole kingdom knew that. “So you’re a month older than me, but you look forty years my senior!”

Iwaizumi glares at him, “Shouldn’t you be respecting your elders then?”

The Prince blinks and lets out a little laugh, a hand coming up to cover his mouth, “Oh, you’re so cute! I like you, Iwaizumi-kun.”

Iwaizumi feels his face redden. He rolls his eyes as the Prince continues, “But see, Iwaizumi-kun is such a long name don’t you think? Not cute at all. Don’t worry, I’ll think of something.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t know how to respond to this. The Prince before him now so different from the one last night. So, he doesn’t respond; instead he moves on, “Today your lessons are in the library.” The Prince hums, hands gliding through his hair and tugging at his bangs. “Breakfast is being prepared for you, would you like me to draw a bath?”

“Will anyone be joining me for breakfast?” The Prince asks, with an almost sneer decorating his face. He swings his legs around to slip off the bed, heading toward the bathroom attached to his chambers. Iwaizumi follows after him.

“Not today.”

The Prince shrugs, seemingly unbothered, “Figures.”

Iwaizumi feels curiosity pulling at his tongue, but he bites it down. He begins drawing water for the bath, making sure it’s not too hot nor too cold. He helps the Prince out of his shorts and into the bath. He scrubs his back, a bit too roughly at first by the whine he elicits from the boy, but he gets it right eventually.

He grabs the shampoo, but the Prince swats his hand away roughly, “No one touches my hair but me.” The Prince snaps, squeezing some oil into his own palm.

Iwaizumi doesn’t press, taking a step back. He turns his head away to take a moment to breathe and unclench his jaw. The thought of having to deal with this every day for the rest of his foreseeable life was crushing him. It had only been a half hour and the novelty had completely worn off.

“Rinse me off!” The command interrupts his thoughts.

What a brat, Iwaizumi can’t help but think.

Once the Prince is dry and clothed, Iwaizumi follows him out of the chambers and down the stairs to the Great Hall. The servants greet them as they go, and the Prince gives a wave or two in return. Iwaizumi keeps his head down. They enter into the dining room, one of the seats dressed and ready with a meal set out.

The Prince takes his seat. And waits. And waits. Brown eyes glance toward green, ones, eyebrow raised. It sends a jolt through Iwaizumi’s spine as he remembers the first rule of many he had been taught about the Prince.

The Prince must wear gloves to every meal.

Iwaizumi scrambles to the cupboard, taking out a fresh pair and slipping them onto the Prince’s waiting hands. He feels the Prince’s smile at the top of his head but doesn’t look up, feeling foolish.

“Sit down, Zumi-kun.”

“Excuse me?” Iwaizumi can’t help snapping.

The Prince laughs into his gloved hand, “I agree, that one’s silly. I’m still thinking. But sit.”

Iwaizumi sits next to the Prince, putting his hands on the table, unsure what to do with himself. He glances at the Prince’s meal, a piece of toast with egg, some miso soup and juice. Iwaizumi quickly looks away, less a groan from his stomach give him away.

“You’re hungry.”

“No, sire.”

The Prince snorts, sliding the miso soup toward his attendant, “You are a terrible liar, Iwaizumi. You should stick to honesty.”

Iwaizumi frowns, looking down at the soup, “This is for you.”

“Yes, and I hate the taste of it. I don’t care for this kind of food. Father insists I finish everything on my plate though or he throws a fit. So, you would really be helping me out if you ate some.”

Iwaizumi purses his lip. The Prince rolls his eyes, “Should I order you to?”

Iwaizumi frowns, taking the spoon. It’s the nicest spoon he’s ever seen, pure silver and freshly polished. He takes a sip of the meal and is floored. His eyes widen, and he drinks it up in desperate gulps as the taste hits his tongue.

When he finishes he finds the Prince laughing beside him, “Were you raised in a barn? Did they not teach you table manners?”

Iwaizumi feels his face redden and he takes the Prince’s napkin to wipe at his face. The Prince grins at him, “You’re so cute, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi’s face contorts in a sneer, “ No.”

“Ooh,” the Prince coos, “I like that one. It flows right off the tongue. Doesn’t it Iwa-chan?”

“I hate it,” Iwaizumi replies.

“I love it,” Oikawa decides, “And I win. Because I’m the Prince.”

“That’s not fair! You can’t just call me whatever you want!” Iwaizumi snaps, and the Prince looks surprised, eyes blinking at the outburst ass if he had never been questioned. Iwaizumi wouldn’t be surprised if that were true and for a moment, he finds himself a little nervous he’d crossed another line.

“Well, what if I let you call me something special, too?” The Prince offers and Iwaizumi’s shoulders drop in confusion.

“Huh?”

“Prince Tooru Kageyama is a mouthful too,” the Prince murmurs, bringing a finger to his chin thoughtfully, “It’s a lot of words and you don’t seem very bright.” He ignores Iwaizumi’s loud ‘hey’ in favor of continuing, “You can call me Oikawa.”

“Oikawa?” Iwaizumi repeats, tilting his head.

The Prince smiles, leaning forward, lips brushing against Iwaizumi’s ear, “It’s my mother’s name,” he explains, and then, even softer and more conspiratorially, “Father hates it.”

Iwaizumi touches his ear, staring at the Prince who’s smile seems a tinge sad. But the boy shoves toast in his mouth, and the look is gone. Iwaizumi drops his hands back into his lap. He watches the Prince eat, carefully and controlled, not a drop spilling on him. His gloves receive not a single stain. When he finishes, he drinks up all of the juice in one big gulp and flashes a bright grin, “Iwa-chan, I have a secret assignment for you.”

“Okay?”

“Figure out a way to put a break into my schedule without making Father mad.”

“You don’t get a break?”

Oikawa blinks at him, “Aren’t you supposed to know my schedule?”

“I’m still learning.” Iwaizumi huffs, “It’s been like, a week.”

“Yeah, but you could just write it down and have it. It doesn’t change much.”

“I’m still learning how to read.” Iwaizumi murmurs, scratching his upper arm self consciously. Oikawa blinks again, pursing his lips into an ‘oh’ shape.  He pulls his gloves off, standing up from his chair with a little stretch.

Iwaizumi stands up to, cleaning up the Prince’s place and leaving the items on a tray for the scullery maid to take care of. He follows the Prince out toward the library at the north end of the castle in a not uncomfortable silence. When they reach the doors, a man is waiting for them. Oikawa greets him with a forced smile and steps through. Iwaizumi moves to follow but the man stops him.

“You must be the new attendant,” the man says and Iwaizumi nods, “You may go attend to your other duties. Oikawa will be in studies the rest of the day. Come collect him at sundown.”

Iwaizumi frowns, “What about lunch, sir?”

“He has that brought here. Now, if you’ll excuse us.” The man turns away, and Iwaizumi hears him ask Oikawa to turn to a certain page in his book. The Prince’s features are wiped of their seemingly usual mirth, eyes glazed over.

Iwaizumi turns away. He steels himself and lets his mind start mulling over his new assignment.

---------------------------------

As the weeks go by Iwaizumi Hajime falls into an easy rhythm. He wakes up with the rooster and heads down to eat breakfast with the other servants and get the Prince’s schedule. He wakes the Prince and accompanies him throughout his day as needed. Morning breakfast together becomes a routine. Oikawa is rarely asked to dine with his parents in the morning. There is always an excuse. Mostly that Oikawa has his meal much earlier than the rest of his family, who are normally still sleeping.

Iwaizumi had suggested, more than once, to allow the Prince to sleep in a bit. But the answer is always the same. It’s His Majesty’s orders. Oikawa doesn’t seem affected much, and instead is excited to have Iwaizumi join him each morning to fill the large empty room with fun banter.

Iwaizumi is surprised how easy it is to talk to Oikawa in the morning. At one point he calls the Prince an idiot when he accidentally knocks over his glass while telling a story a bit too excitedly. He fears he’s crossed a line, but the Prince merely laughs it off and Iwaizumi can’t help but join him.

Mornings are nice.

Iwaizumi spends the afternoon cleaning the Prince’s chambers after his nightly episodes, helping the servants with their chores, and taking breaks to explore the grounds, adding every day to his mental map.

Nights are hard.

Once Oikawa is released from his task for the day he is completely drained, angry, and, to be frank, out of control. Iwaizumi hides the Prince’s valuables under his bed before evening, to prevent too much damage. But he still can’t figure out how to stop the tantrums entirely. Oikawa always orders him out of the room with such horrid desperation that Iwaizumi can’t help disappearing into his side chamber.

Iwaizumi always tries to make sense of it at night. He can understand the Prince’s frustration. Having to overexert himself every day is grueling. He’s kept from his family almost entirely, for reasons Iwaizumi still can not comprehend and the rest of the staff refuses to question. He barely sees the King himself, or little Prince Tobio who’s always with him. Iwaizumi has never even set eyes on the Queen, but Oikawa talks of her so often that she must be real.

But Oikawa is always so exhausted when he returns to his chambers, how can he then summon the energy to scream and destroy his room?

He needs to confront him about it. Perhaps during breakfast. He wants to understand.

He wants to help.

While receiving the Prince’s itinerary that morning he sees that today will not be the best day to talk at all.

“With Father?” Oikawa echoes as he yawns into his hands, sitting at the edge of his massive bed, “Just him?”

“Yep.” Iwaizumi says, as he helps the Prince into his pants.

Oikawa hums drowsily, “It’s probably about my birthday next week.” He gets up, letting Iwaizumi button up his vest and jacket. An outfit a little dressier than usual that Iwaizumi had pulled out for the occasion. The pair walk down to the dining room, finding the King already seated at the head of the table. Iwaizumi bows deeply, before taking his place by the wall. Oikawa sits down near his father and gives a curt greeting.

“How are you, Tooru?” The King begins, as he rips off a piece of his toast.

Oikawa doesn’t touch his food, “I’m fine.”

“That’s good. Are you on top of your studies?”

“Yes. Riku-san says my talent with a sword is the best he’s ever seen. Tachibana-san says I’m his best pupil.”

“You’re his only pupil.” The King points out. Oikawa doesn’t seem to find it very funny, from the way his shoulders tense. Iwaizumi frowns.

The King does not notice, continuing with a breezy tone,“I think it’s time you start learning to ride.”

“Really, Father?” Oikawa brightens.

“You’ll choose a horse from the stable tomorrow and lessons will be integrated into your schedule from then on.”

“Thank you!” Oikawa beams, instinctively letting his eyes fall on Iwaizumi who gives him a small smile. Oikawa licks his lips, and leans a bit forward, “Can Iwaizumi learn to?”

The King’s eyes glance toward Iwaizumi, and it takes all the boy’s power not to react to the imposing stare, “I suppose. He will need to learn to accompany you anyway.”

Oikawa’s grin grows brighter, and Iwaizumi can’t help his own smile on his face. He had always loved working the Sister’s horse. And being able to spend more time with Oikawa instead of being alone in the castle excited him.

“But speaking of your attendant, it reminds me of something important.” The King begins, and Oikawa’s expression falls from his face. “He has lasted much longer than your previous attendants, but your nightly fits have only grown more horrendous.”

Oikawa glares down at the table. The King continues, “Did you think I would not notice? Do you understand how much money I’m wasting on you?”

Oikawa bites his lip, “I’m so tired, by the end, I...It just comes out. If I could just, just get a break--“

The King slams his fist onto the table, and Oikawa flinches, “The point is for you to be tired! You won’t ever not be tired in your life, and you must be able to control this even then, don’t you understand?”

Oikawa squeezes his hands into fists on his lap, “I know, I know. But I’m tryin--“

“Are you? I don’t know if you are, Tooru, because I’ve seen very minimal improvement, if any at all.” The King interrupts, “Is that anyway for a Prince to act? For a King? Do you really think to ascend to the throne with this vice?”

“Father, I’m working on it, I promise--“

“I just don’t see you overcoming this hurdle.” The King continues, “Your constitution is too weak for the task. We should look at other options. At least we have Tobio to take the -“

Oikawa’s chair screeches back with the force in which he stands up, body small but desperate. He bangs his fists on the table, tears prickling his red face, “But I’m the first son! I’m the heir! Not Tobio!”

The King stands up in turn, “And is that the attitude of an heir? Sit down, Tooru.”

“No! It’s not fair, Father! Just because,because! It’s not my fault!” Oikawa insists, hysteria rising, “I hate Tobio!”

“Don’t speak ill of your brother.” The King orders.

Oikawa throws his plate to the ground in fury, “I wish he had never been born at all!”

The King glares at him, grabbing him by his shirt collar, “Tobio saved this country.” He snaps, as Oikawa struggles in his grip. The King drops him, not even watching as he falls to the ground and starts sobbing at his feet.

The King rolls his eyes, turning to Iwaizumi, “If the Prince wants a break, we’ll give him one. Cancel his lessons. Iwaizumi, he is not to leave his chambers for the rest of the day. Meals will be brought up to him. Hopefully a day of self-reflection will have him come to terms with his mistakes.”

Oikawa weeps harder at the ground, “I want to talk to Mother! Let me see Mother!”

“She does not want to see you.” The King replies as he heads for the door.

Oikawa watches him go, screaming out, “You are a liar! Let me see her!”

“Who would want to see you in this state?”

The door shuts and the room is quiet, filled only by the uneven sobs and heavy breathing of a small boy on the floor.

Iwaizumi peels himself from the wall he had plastered himself too. He walks over to the Prince, “Oikawa?”

“Don’t touch me.” Oikawa orders, keeping himself huddled on the ground, “One minute.”

It’s a common order, more usual as the day goes on. Iwaizumi waits, deciding to sit on his knees beside him. He remains silent, a picture of peace if not for his straining hands, balled into fists on his thighs.

Oikawa sits up finally, wiping at his face with his sleeve. Iwaizumi tuts his tongue, taking out his handkerchief to wipe at Oikawa’s face in turn. Oikawa lets him, hiccuping a little as he tries to calm his breathing.  

“I hate that you saw that.” Oikawa murmurs.

Iwaizumi shakes his head, “Can I say something?”

“Yeah.” Oikawa replies.

Iwaizumi leans forward, voice dropping low, “Your dad is the worst.”

It takes a second, for the casual words to hit Oikawa, but when they do he can’t help the laugh burbling from his chest. Iwaizumi smiles, the sound so much nicer than the awful sobs that had filled the room just minutes earlier.

“I hate him.” Oikawa confesses, “Him and Tobio.”

“Prince Tobio is a baby. That’s not fair.” Iwaizumi admonishes as he folds up his handkerchief.

Oikawa shrugs, not interested in debating the topic. Iwaizumi frowns, “Why does the King treat you like this?”

Oikawa sighs, and then, using his gruffest voice recites, “Because I’m a demon child.”

Iwaizumi laughs at the impression, (it’s impeccable, honestly) but shakes his head, “You’re not a demon, Oikawa.”

Oikawa snorts, keeping his gaze down.

“I’m serious.” Iwaizumi insists, “Didn’t you say I was a bad liar?”

Oikawa smiles, peeking his brown eyes up at Iwaizumi, “Yeah...” He lifts his chin up, “Iwa-chan is being nice to me today? How rare.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, standing up and offering a hand. The Prince takes it and lifts himself up, “Come on, let’s get the day started.”

“There’s no day to start.” Oikawa moans, dragging his feet, “It’s all been cancelled.”

“Which means it’s time for my schedule to start.” Iwaizumi announces. Oikawa blinks at him, Iwaizumi just motions for him to head back to his chambers, “You told me to figure out a way to get you a break. Well, I couldn’t really figure that, but I thought up a bunch of stuff to do when you did finally get a break. And there’s a lot to get done today!”

There’s a new bounce in Oikawa’s step at the idea. They hurry into his chambers and Iwaizumi immediately shoves him into his own room. Oikawa blinks at the size of it, nudging his floor nest with his foot curiously. Iwaizumi ignores him in favor of digging out his spare uniform and throwing it at Oikawa.

“Put those on. We’re sneaking out.” Iwaizumi explains.

Oikawa holds the clump in his hands uselessly, “I don’t know how to take off what I’m wearing.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and helps the boy undress and redress himself in a much simpler outfit. He moves his hand to ruffle up Oikawa’s prim and proper hair only to get swatted away. Oikawa does it himself.

Iwaizumi frowns, “Not enough...Here, wear this cap.” Oikawa squishes it on his head, and it looks little wonky but it shields Oikawa perfect features away from direct eyesight. “Good enough.” Iwaizumi announces.

Oikawa grins at him, “Whats the plan?”

“We’re spending the day outside. I’ll come a little before your meal times to fetch them so it seems like we’re in here. We’ll be back in before sundown.”

“I’ve never been on the grounds unsupervised.” Oikawa confesses.

“You live here.” Iwaizumi reminds.

Oikawa laughs, “Come on! Let’s go! I’m excited!”

Iwaizumi nods, “We’ll take the servant’s exit. Follow me and don’t talk.”

As expected, the servant’s quarters are deserted at this hour, and they weave through the halls undetected before spilling out into the bright morning light.

“Where is everyone?” Oikawa can’t help but ask, hand holding Iwaizumi’s tightly as they run and duck under bushes to sneak around the gardeners.

“Serving your family.” Iwaizumi answers easily, and Oikawa feels a bit silly to have asked it, “No more talking.”

Iwaizumi leads them to the west end of the yard, to a piece of land mostly neglected. Bushes border the tall imperial gates, but far enough to squeeze between the two comfortably. They race down this narrow path, single file until Iwaizumi finally stops and leaps over a small hole. He turns himself around to face Oikawa before he can do the same.

“This has been my secret project.” Iwaizumi whispers. Oikawa looks at the hole, unable to hide his disappointment.

“A hole?”

“Freedom.” Iwaizumi counters with a grin.

Oikawa squints at him. Iwaizumi points up at the fence in turn, “This fence is huge. There’s no gaps for even us to fit through. And it’s impossible to climb. No footholds, and everyone can see you and yell at you when you try.”

“You’ve tried?”

Iwaizumi ignores him, looking back down at his handy work, “So then I thought, why not go the other way?”

Oikawa nods slowly, “Under it?”

“Yeah. Exactly.” Iwaizumi says, “So I’ve been digging here whenever I have the chance, and today’s gonna be the day.”

“We can’t fit through here.” Oikawa points out.

“Not yet. But with two people digging we’ll get through real quick.

Oikawa frowns, “I don’t want to dig a hole.”

“Digging holes can be fun.”

“No it’s dirty. What if there’s worms?”

“That’s the fun part.”

“Gross.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, sticking his hands in to start carving out more space between the ground and fence. “Fine, you can sit while I dig, Your Highness.”

Oikawa pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. He watches Iwaizumi dig up the earth, face drawn in concentration. He watches as his hands fill up with dirt, particles slipping under his fingernails and staining his skin and he thinks nothing of it.

Oikawa lifts a hand tentatively to touch the dirt, watching it sift through the gaps in his fingers. He copies Iwaizumi’s movement slowly, careful and Iwaizumi says nothing. But he smiles, a small tug of his lips, and it urges Oikawa forward, until he too is digging with both his hands.

It doesn’t take long at all for the hole to open up and let them squeeze through. Iwaizumi goes first; Oikawa follows with a grimace. He stands up and dusts at his dirtied knees. Iwaizumi waves him off, “Remember their my clothes not yours. I’ll wash them later. Don’t worry about it.”

Oikawa purses his lips but nods, lifting his head to look around. He’d never been outside the gates unless for trips to other Kingdoms. It did not look much different, just emptier of people and wilder, untamed.

Iwaizumi takes his hand, “Come on. I really want to check out this forest.”

“I think that’s where we hunt for deer.” Oikawa fills in.

“Cool. Maybe we’ll see one!” Iwaizumi grins. Oikawa follows after him as they race towards the trees, slowing as the path disappears entirely beneath them. It’s replaced by gnarled roots and brush, thorny plants and thick moss covered trunks. They start picking their way carefully. Stopping to stare at bugs and birds along the way with absolute delight.

Iwaizumi has a good eye, pointing them out first. But Oikawa knows their names, almost all of them, and recites them proudly to the air.

It is as their climbing  over a fallen tree trunk that they stumble upon a clearing. Flowers bloom along it’s edges and a deer nibbles at the ground, but upon hearing them enter, runs out for cover. The boys chalk it up for a loss but don’t mind it, sitting themselves on the trunk side by side.

“I was born in a forest.” Oikawa says, suddenly.

“Really?”

“It’s what my mom says.” Oikawa explains, drawing his knees up, “It was dark, and she wanted to get some air, so she took a walk. But she got lost in the woods, found a clearing like this and had me. She said she could see all the stars too. They found her in the morning with me.”

“That’s cool.” Iwaizumi responds, looking up at the sky instinctively, but it isn’t even high noon yet, so there are no stars speckled up above. “Stars are cool.”

“Yeah, they are.” Oikawa agrees, “Where were you born?”

Iwaizumi shrugs.

“Never asked your parents?”

“Never had parents.”

“Oh.” Oikawa murmurs, “Right.”

“It’s ok. I don’t mind. It turned out ok.”

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t have parents.” Oikawa murmurs. Iwaizumi frowns at him. “But then I think of my mom. And I feel bad.”

“I’ve never met your mom.”

“Father keeps her as busy as me.” Oikawa mutters, “He doesn’t like me seeing her.”

“But she’s your mom!”

“Yeah.” Oikawa agrees, sadly.

Iwaizumi frowns further, wrinkles forming in his forehead. Oikawa laughs at the sight, poking the offending lines and earning him a swat to the hand. He whines in turn but his smile can not be tampered down. They wrestle a little on the clearing floor, Oikawa is laughing too hard to overpower Iwaizumi, who finishes the fight by seating himself on top of the boy victoriously.

“Get off!” Oikawa whines between giggles, weakly pushing at Iwaizumi’s chest.

Iwaizumi smirks down at him in turn, but his eyes catch the sun and he sighs, “Lunch is soon. I should head back.”

“Ok. I’ll stay here?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right back.”

Iwaizumi returns almost an hour later between everything, with the Prince’s meal in hand. He’d had a tough time explaining how dirty he’d gotten while being locked up in a room. Luckily none of the servants had seen him until then and he simply lied that he hadn’t done his laundry yet. He’d gotten a few thwaps for presenting himself to the Prince in such a state but that was that.

He finds the Prince lying down in the field with his eyes closed. Iwaizumi blinks a few times. He catches the glint of rocks by Oikawa’s head, but that couldn’t be comfortable and when Oikawa sits up, there’s nothing there. It must have been the glint of his earrings catching the light.

“Here’s your lunch.” Iwaizumi offers.

“Eat with me, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa half orders with a lazy smile.

They have their makeshift picnic in an easy silence under the sun. It’s not enough to fill both of them, but neither complain. Because it’s the moment that matters.

“Doing nothing is fun.” Oikawa laughs.

“Once in a while, yeah.” Iwaizumi nods. He pulls at the grass around his feet, thinking carefully about his words, “Oikawa.” Oikawa hums at him, leaning back on his palms, “Why....Why do you get like that? At night?”

Oikawa’s palms turn into fists, squeezing the grass, “It’s because I’m tired.”

“I don’t destroy rooms when I’m tired.” Iwaizumi huffs.

Oikawa looks away, “Well, we’re not the same are we?”

“Oikawa.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Tell me.”

“I can’t.”

Iwaizumi throws a clump of grass into the air, “Then I’ll just watch you when you do it to find out.”

The reaction is immediate. Oikawa is upon him, fingers digging into his shoulders with a strength Iwaizumi had never realized the Prince had. He winces, and Oikawa’s face is practically up against his,

“You can’t! Iwa-chan, you can’t.”

Iwaizumi pushes him off, “Why not?”

“You have to promise me you won’t. Promise me now.” Oikawa insists, a desperate gleam in his brown eyes.

Iwaizumi squints at him, “Tell me what’s happening.”

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa’s voice pierces his ears with its high pitched quality, “Promise me you’ll never walk in when I’m like that! I can’t lose you. Promise me!”

“Lose me? I’m not going anywhere, Oikawa.”

“Promise me!” Oikawa shouts.

“Ok, ok. I promise. Are you crying? I’m sorry.”

“I’m not crying. I’m just. I need a moment.”

Iwaizumi watches the boy step away for a minute to lean behind a tree. His stomach swirls with apprehension. That had not gone well at all. In fact, he felt as though he had gone backwards somehow.

------------------------------

“Oikawa.” Iwaizumi Hajime nudges the sleeping boy, “Wake up.”

Oikawa groans from his cocoon, letting out a whine before he mutters, “Give me a moment.”

Iwaizumi gives him his minute to collect himself, waits as he sits up slowly and blinks the tiredness from his eyes. The light pouring from the window illuminates him in a soft glow.

Iwaizumi grins at him, “Happy Birthday.”

Oikawa’s eyes widen, and then he breaks out into a bright smile, “Thanks, Iwa-chan!”

“Umm, I.. I got you-“

Oikawa gasps, “You got me something?”

“Well, yeah... Uh, so I--“

“But I didn’t get you anything for your birthday!”

“It’s okay, uh, anyway, so I--“

“You have no money!”

Iwaizumi huffs, and just shoves his unwrapped gift into Oikawa’s hands. Oikawa stares at it. Iwaizumi scratches the back of his neck, “I’ve been learning to wood carve when I can. One of the butlers is really good at it and is teaching me...Um, it’s..It’s not really good but it’s supposed to be a fox.”

“It’s a lump.” Oikawa whispers, looking at the wood piece carefully.

“Shut up. If you don’t like it I’ll take it back!”

Oikawa moves the piece high above his head, “No, I want it! His name’s Lumpy-chan and I love him.”

Iwaizumi reddens, “Give it a better name!”

“Lumpy-chan is the perfect name. Now get away, I’m gonna put him on my bookshelf.”

Iwaizumi lets out a sigh, “Well, be quick about it. We need to get you dressed. Some of your guests are already here.”

Oikawa lets out a giddy noise, “Yes! I’m so excited! Makki’s gonna be here! I haven’t seen him in forever.”

“I think he’s the one who’s already here.” Iwaizumi replies.

There’s more fervor in Oikawa’s step, “Well then hurry up and dress me! We can’t keep him waiting!”

They do keep him waiting, because Oikawa insists on looking perfect on his birthday. His morning outfit is switched out three times before he is content. He spends an eternity on his hair alone, one thing Iwaizumi is forbidden from touching so he finds himself waiting in one of the seats, bored out of his mind.

Finally, finally, Oikawa is ready to be escorted downstairs. By then more guest have filled into the hall. The King is present, greeting all the Lords and Ladies and foreign dignitaries as they come in. A few have children lingering around them, breaking off to speak with other kids.

Oikawa makes his way to his father’s side, who gives him an acknowledging nod. Iwaizumi hangs back with all the other servants.There are many attendants here, some his age, some older, hanging back against the walls. Some have been tasked with carrying gifts. He spies one boy with a mop of unruly black hair clutching an oval gift to his chest. A cage? It’s not wrapped, simply draped with a rough piece of fabric.

“Thank you all for coming to celebrate Tooru’s tenth birthday.” The King announces, “What a joyous occasion.” There are cheers from the crowd, “But there’s no fun to be had on an empty stomach. Please make your way to the dining room.”

The nobles head to the designated room. Iwaizumi watches Oikawa as he glances about the room frantically, probably searching for his friend. Once the guests have disappeared though, a woman pokes her head into the hall. Oikawa’s eyes latch onto her and he rushes toward her, almost tripping over himself as he clutches her leg.

She lets out a warm laugh, so similar to the Prince’s and bends down to wrap him in a deep hug. She whispers words to him, and he squeezes her harder. They stay like that for a few moments before the woman straightens herself back up and nudges him over.

Oikawa nods, and moves to follow the King and the nobles into the dining room. Iwaizumi moves to follow them when the woman beckons to him. He hesitates but makes his way over.

“You must be Iwaizumi?” She whispers.

Iwaizumi is lost in her features. Her beautiful brown eyes and slim face. Her soft brown wavy curls that frame her face and the beautiful glittering crown adorned on her head. She’s Oikawa, maybe with a few extra eyelashes.

“Yes.” He whispers back, and then quickly add, “Your Majesty.”

She smiles at him, ruffling his hair, “You’re doing a wonderful job.”

Iwaizumi’s heart swells.

“Keep looking after him. He needs it.”

Iwaizumi nods, but can’t help the words spilling out, “Prince Tooru is strong too.”

She smiles again, a bit pained, “I know.”

Iwaizumi realizes he could have picked better words, “That’s not-- He doesn’t mean, to do that. He’s just tired.” He vomits out, tugging at his tunic, “He’s not a monster.”

The Queen seems taken aback by this, but catches herself, “Yes.” She replies, “He’s not a monster.”

Iwaizumi nods at her.

The Queen stands up, “I won’t keep you from your duties any longer.”

He bows before scurrying back over and slipping into the dining hall. He had never been in a room filled with so many nobles. But also, with so many attendants. There are boys and girls his age, pressed against the walls and he is curious of their stories. Out of the nobles gathered, he could pick out only one with certainty. Lord Hanamaki sits by his young son, who Iwaizumi remembers is around his age. Oikawa is sitting at the head of the table beside his father.

The servants start bringing in the breakfast banquet and Iwaizumi does his best not to stare at the amazing food. His stomach rumbles and he hopes the cacophony of laughing rich people will hide it. No one at the table seems to notice. But the mop headed boy beside him nudges something into his hand.

It’s a piece of bread.

Iwaizumi blinks at him and the mop headed boy just gives him a sleepy smile. Iwaizumi frowns, wonders if the bread was stolen. He doesn’t want to be seen as pathetic. He is the first Prince’s attendant! Accepting this felt weird.

The mop headed boy seems to pick up on his thoughts and leans down, “My name is Matsukawa Issei.”

Iwaizumi blinks at him, whispering back, “Iwaizumi Hajime.”

“Your Prince Tooru’s new attendant right? He talks about you a lot in his letters to Lord Takahiro.”

Iwaizumi feels his face flame up without permission, and he focuses his gaze back on the banquet at hand. His green eyes find themselves on Oikawa’s happy face and his shoulders seem to relax. Matsukawa nudges him, “Lord Takahiro gave me some bread during the journey over. I’m sure he wouldn’t want his best friend’s attendant to go hungry either.”

Iwaizumi huffs but decides to stuff the bread in his mouth. He ignores the easy smile on the boy beside him in favor of the festivities before him. They were grandiose and kept the young Prince smiling the entire day. He worked the room with an exuberant smile, leaving every Lord and Lady charmed and all their children laughing. It was like magic.

Iwaizumi remembers a moment during lunch when a Lord he did not recognize leaned forward to tell the King, “What a promising young Prince. Diplomacy comes so naturally to him. Aoba Johsai is in good hands.” Iwaizumi remembers grinning at the complement, locking it away in his mind to be sure that Oikawa hears it. Iwaizumi remembers the King barely responding to it other than a curt nod.

While gifts are exchanged, Lord Hanamaki and his son stand up, “We have a special gift, for the young Prince that we hope he loves.” Iwaizumi notices Matsukawa slip away from his station by his side, following another similar looking man out of the room entirely. He frowns, “It was Takahiro’s idea, and he is absolutely delighted to share it with his dear friend.”

The young Lord steps forward, grinning from ear to ear as Prince Tooru looks at him, “We have a show for you! For all of of you. But you have to go outside to see it. Follow me!”

The crowd spills out from the dining hall into one of the outdoor courts at the bequest of the young Lord, murmuring amongst each other. Iwaizumi loses Oikawa in the crowd and lets out an annoyed sigh. But then the Prince appears beside him, camouflaged among the many people around them.

“Iwa-chan! I feel like I’ve barely seen you all day.” The Prince whines, keeping his voice low.

“Well, I’ve been here the whole time.” Iwaizumi snorts back. Were servants that invisible?

“I wish you could sit next to me. It would be more fun.” Oikawa sighs.

“You seem to be having enough fun.” Iwaizumi counters.

The smile on Oikawa’s face falters, “I guess.” He mumbles, “It’s just tiring after a while.”

Iwaizumi frowns, but Oikawa has left his side, slipping back into the crowd of nobles. He had been sure Oikawa was having the time of his life. Had the smile been a lie this whole time? He wishes he was as good at deciphering faces as Oikawa was.

Matsukawa and the older man are waiting for them in the court, perched on each of their thickly gloved arms is a falcon. The crowd is already delighted by the sight of the avian beasts. Iwaizumi can’t help his own gaping mouth. He wants to hold one of them.

Lord Hanamaki speaks again, “Prince Tooru, I hope you enjoy the show put on by our expert falconer and his son.”

The falconer has his bird fly high into the air, circling the crowd and swooping low, dazzling them. He has it swing near children’s heads, earning delighted shrieks and giggles. Matsukawa sends his bird out too then, having the pair do their own form of a dance as they circle around each other in the air.

At the end of the show the Prince is allowed to feed the birds and he is absolutely delighted. Iwaizumi longs to join him and pet the birds, but he remains firmly in place and the moment passes. The birds are put away, and the nobles gather back inside the Great Hall for their farewell.

Oikawa once more stands beside his father, smiling out at his guests as the King gives his speech, “We thank you all for coming to celebrate Prince Tooru’s tenth birthday. Your kindness and thoughtfulness has surely been noted by the royal family. It has been a pleasure to see you all again. But before we end the festivities, I have an important announcement to make.”

There’s a murmur in the crowd. Oikawa looks up at his Father with a furrowed brow. The King does not return his look, instead smiling around the crowd, “I’m sure you have noticed we have had many important people in our midst today, and I have been overjoyed to have welcomed King Ushijima and his son to our castle. Will you both join me here?”

There are claps from the crowd as a tall imposing man makes his away beside the King. Iwaizumi feels his skin bristle at the aura that surrounds his stern face. Next to him stands his son, a practical miniature of his father, stoic face staring out into the crowd. But Iwaizumi can see his hands are balled into fists at his sides. He looks nervous. If his face wasn’t so blank Iwaizumi would think him terrified.

“It is my pleasure to announce to all of you first and foremost, the betrothal of my son to the Prince of Shiratorizawa.”

There are gasps in the crowd and stilted claps. The Kings are all smiles. The foreign Prince is staring at the ground. Prince Tooru’s face is a painting of horror as he stares at his father, and then at the boy, and then back at his father. Heat pours into his face, flooding from his neck until his head is just one color, bright red.

“No!” He shouts, the word erupting from his throat, the force of it echoing throughout the room. He stomps his little foot, “You can’t!”

The King chuckles, brushing off the outburst like any normal ten year old tantrum, “Now Tooru, don’t cause a scene.” He glances over at the foreign Prince who’s silent gaze was stuck on the ground, “Look how good Prince Wakatoshi is being.”

Prince Wakatoshi looks up at his name, looks at the Seijoh prince, at the Seijoh King, then at his own father before bowing slightly, “I look forward to the wedding.” He says carefully, the words seemingly rehearsed.

Oikawa shakes his head, “No! Father, you can’t do this!”

There’s a murmur in the crowd, an anxious one, a question at the front of everyone’s minds.

“I’m the first son!” Oikawa screams, “I’m the heir! I can’t go to Shiratorizawa!”

“Our continued alliance with the Kingdom of Shiratorizawa is of great importance. This is an honor that has been bestowed upon you. This is all in preparation, the wedding will happen when you’re of age, of course. We can discuss this in detail later. Now stop screaming, you’re only proving how unfit to rule you really are!”

Oikawa is trembling in fury, face a mess of hot tears and snot. The guests seem uncomfortable, some of the younger kids have started to cry in their parents’ arms. Iwaizumi stops biting his lip before he draws blood when Matsukawa touches his arm and brings him back. He lets out a breath he did not realize he was holding.

“Look, you’ve ruined the joyous occasion with your unreasonable outburst, Tooru.” The King continues, “And you’ve tired yourself out in the process, haven’t you?” He adds, and Iwaizumi swears the smile slipping on his face is lined with cruelty.

Iwaizumi furrows his brow. He had never seen such pure fear descend upon the Prince’s face so instantaneously. His hands dart up into his hair, gripping at the strands tightly as he hunches over. His tears don’t stop, “I want to go to my room.” He hisses.

“You need to say goodbye to your guests. This is your fault for tiring yourself out with an outlandish display. Finish your duties.”

Oikawa is shaking his head, “I have to go to my room, Father. Please, please let me go!”

Iwaizumi isn’t sure when he steps out from the wall, but he suddenly finds himself beside the Prince, taking his hands in his own. The King looks surprised at his presence, the expression mirrored by the rest of his guests. Iwaizumi swallows, feeling nervous at being the center of attention among the most powerful people in the world.

“Prince Tooru has to go now.” He says awkwardly, giving a bow, “He’s very sorry but he needs to rest. Thank you for coming. It was really fun. The birds were really cool.”

The tension seems to ease from the room, as a few of the children giggle and some of the nobles even smile. The King blinks at him, but does nothing as Iwaizumi helps Oikawa back onto his feet and leads him up the stairs and out of sight.

There is so much to unpack, so much to wrap his head around, but he has to push it all away. Oikawa is shaking, eyes bugged out and tripping over his own feet, “Hurry! Hurry!” He orders, desperation clawing at his throat and making him hoarse.

Iwaizumi races through the halls, dragging the Prince behind him until they finally reach his chambers and he’s able to close the door. Oikawa has fallen to the floor, crumpled and shaking, gulping down ragged breaths.

“Oikawa?”

“You need to leave. Right now. Get out!” Oikawa orders.

“I’m not leaving.” Iwaizumi says firmly, even as panic starts to burn in his chest.

“You promised! Please, before--“

And then it happens. It starts as a flicker, as if the image of the Prince has become disjointed, distorted. Wrong. Something grips Iwaizumi’s heart, a cold hand clenching it tight in its fist. His feet burn in their sandals begging him to run. But he stays planted.

The Prince before him is different. He is crouched, clawed fingers digging in his nest of unruly hair. Thick horns spiral out of his skull, sharp and glinting. His eyes flash out, red and furious and bright. His mouth is jammed with pointed fangs.

Iwaizumi still can’t move.

Oikawa screams, piercing Iwaizumi to the core, leaving him shaky. He sees the Prince’s muscles start rippling, and finds his own body reacting in turn. He dives out of the way of the attack, Oikawa’s body flinging to the side to slam against the wall with a loud shriek.

Iwaizumi scrambles to stand back up, climbing atop the giant bed. His feet slip on the silken sheets and he falls onto his back. The Prince is on him in seconds, face snarling and Iwaizumi cant help the shout that claws out of his own throat.

Oikawa’s talons claw into Iwaizumi’s arms, and he lets out a cry. The Prince’s vision zeroes in on the crimson blood leaking out and in the moment of distraction Iwaizumi is able to overpower him.

He realizes, quickly, that although the Prince is unreasonably strong in this moment he is also unwieldy. All awkward boyish limbs and little control. Iwaizumi is strong too and he pushes the writhing screaming boy into the mattress, pinning him down.

He takes a moment to breathe, marveling in the fact he was able to stop a monster so relatively easily. He takes in the Prince and it cuts him. Beneath him is still a boy, his age, screaming, tears streaming down his face. Brown eyes completely lost.

Iwaizumi realizes, instantly, the source of all of the Prince’s problems, the ire of the King, the sadness of the Queen, and Oikawa’s very own words hit him.

Because I’m a demon child.

But he does not only see a demon child beneath him. He also sees the lonely Prince, abandoned by the world to fend this curse off by himself. Tormented, teased and unloved. And he can’t bear the thought of it. Because the Prince is a brat, sure, but he is ten years old, and so perceptive, so smart, so fun.  

“Hey,” Iwaizumi says, “Oikawa, it’s ok. Everything’s ok.”

Oikawa continues his writhing, eyes wide, throat choking on words he might be incapable to form in this body. Iwaizumi has no idea.

He leans closer despite his fear, “I’m here. I’m here. It’s ok. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.” He presses his forehead to the boys sweat slicked one, feels a horn clack against his skull and shudders. But he stays firm, “Or at least, we can both be scared together.”

Something breaks in the fiery gaze at those words. Limbs tremble in Iwaizumi’s hold and the Prince lets out an inhuman wail. So sad, the song of it, that Iwaizumi can’t help wrapping his arms around the boy and pulling him close.

“It’s ok.”

They lay like that for a while. The sun begins to sink below the horizon before Oikawa’s breathing regains any semblance of normalcy, before his tight grip is no longer painful, before his horns seem to vanish into thin air, and the boy Iwaizumi had known, returns.

Oikawa shudders, wiping at his face and trying to breathe deeply. He sits up carefully, pulling away from Iwaizumi  to pull at his hair. It’s a nervous habit Iwaizumi had noticed. He sits up as well, waiting.

“I’m sorry.” Oikawa murmurs, and his voice is barely above a whisper, and even that effort seems to wind him as he sags. Head resting against his shoulder, eyes exhausted.

“It’s ok.” Iwaizumi responds with a shrug, scratching at the back of his neck. His upper arms sting from claw marks but none are very deep.

“It’s not.” Oikawa snaps, eyes closing, “I hurt you. And now you’re afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

The Prince stands up on the bed in a sudden bout of energy, “How! How can you not be afraid of me? You saw me! You saw what I am!” He steps right into Iwaizumi’s face, but Iwaizumi does not back down. He thinks back to the little boy from all those months ago, who kept his chin up no matter the treatment he was dealt. Like pride was all he had to hold onto in the world he was cast in.

“Is this why the King hurts you? Because of your curse?”

The Prince blinks and then barks out a laugh, slipping back onto his knees to be at Iwaizumi’s level, or maybe because his legs could no longer support him, “Curse? You think I’m cursed?” He threads his fingers through his hair and Iwaizumi notices for the first time how his hands curve oddly down as if to dodge a pair of horns. But they weren’t there, so why?

“Oh dear, sweet, naive Iwa-chan,” The Prince croons almost cruelly, “I’m not cursed, unless being born at all is some kind of curse itself. I just am. Demon blood runs through my veins and makes me half of who I am. Father only loves that which he owns, and I am the one thing that can never truly be his.”

Iwaizumi feels a bit sick to his stomach, “But you look--”

There’s a flicker again in the image of the Prince, but more calculated. He sits before him, thick spiraling horns sprouting from his nestle of hair, nails sharp and long, thin spaded tail - he hadn’t noticed before - swinging back and forth behind him.

“You shouldn’t believe everything you see.” Oikawa remarks, sharp teeth glinting as he speaks, “Do you still stand by what you said? Even now when you know the truth?” He leans even further, face dangerously close to Iwaizumi’s neck, hot breath tingly the skin, “When you know I’m a monster?”

Iwaizumi can’t help but to turn his face to the side, skin prickling at the contact, but he remains resolute, “You mask yourself with magic? All day? Every day? Is that why you come home exhausted? How do you do it?”

Oikawa blinks at the questions, pulling back. Iwaizumi can tell in that moment, when the shields surrounding brown eyes drop in shock, that no one has ever taken an interest in the Prince’s daily struggles. That a cruel man had enforced a certain code of standards, had constantly tested and given no validation for any improvement. That the Prince had been left to sink or swim. There was no hand to help him out of the deep water, just one pushing his head down.

“I do,” The Prince says, and it is a shaky statement, “It takes up most of my concentration. It took me years to get to where I’m at. Father would not let me out of my room until I could hold a human image for longer than an hour.”

“When was that?”

“When I turned five.”

“You’re incredible.” Iwaizumi breathes and he means it, wholeheartedly.

The Prince’s pale face seems to color, face skewing up as if he’d tasted something sour. Iwaizumi can’t help the laugh that bubbles from his chest at the sigh, and soon Oikawa is laughing with him, exhaling the tension with each mirthful sound.

“Can I touch them?” Iwaizumi asks, curiously, as they calm down.

“If you want.” Oikawa leans his head over, and Iwaizumi runs his fingers over the horns, feels the ridges, tugs once (which earns him an indignant squawk).

“They’re cool.” Iwaizumi decides.

Oikawa laughs, though it comes out bitter this time, “I think you’re the only one who thinks that.” He says, looking out the window, “Father has always wanted me gone. Wanted me to mess up so he could get rid of me. But now he’s really done it.”

Oikawa hangs his head, looking down at his hands and his silken sheets, “He’s sold me off to Shiratorizawa.” He sighs, tiny droplets sprinkling on his sheets.

Iwaizumi squeezes his shoulder.

A silent promise.

I’m here.

Oikawa wipes his eyes, and the moment passes.