Hatam-Ile, 17th of Ninthmoon 3045
The glow of fireworks lit their way to the cottage. Colourful explosions left the skies above ashimmer even as they stumbled in through the door and latched it shut after them.
Hawk barely had the time to kick off his shoes before Ren’i pushed him against the door and kissed him hungrily, the bitter tang of kheru wine dancing on his tongue. Metal chimed as Ren’i’s shaking fingers made to unbuckle Hawk’s belt. It fell on the floor with an audible clang.
”I want you,” he breathed against Hawk’s lips. Not that Hawk needed the words to assure him; he could certainly tell just how turned on Ren’i was as he pressed up against Hawk, lips, hands, body all demanding attention. ”Right now.”
Hawk responded by kissing him back with the same intensity until they both felt dizzy, hands feverishly searching for naked skin. He half-lead, half-dragged Ren’i with him, mouth running dry while watching Ren’i undress. There was no need for words; the same desire, the same longing reflected from Ren’i’s eyes when he pushed Hawk against the pelts and clambered between his legs.
Firelight breathed life into the shadows dancing on skin and in the dark corners of the cabin. Beads of sweat made the nightly cold bite that much harder. The flames burned too low to provide any real warmth, leaving them no other shelter than the heat of another’s body. Hawk held on tight to Ren’i’s hips, conforming to every movement he made, and thought that he was ten times more regal like this than he ever was in the polished armour. Face aflush with pleasure, eyes only half-open, mouth opening and closing with his every breath. When he grew weary they switched places.
Ren’i’s thighs shook as Hawk’s lips left hot kisses down his chest, his belly, trailing ever lower, warm breath tickling at his skin. There were thin, pale scars criss-crossing all over his olive-tinted skin. The mark left by the Liqari sword was the newest, but certainly not the largest. Hawk wanted to touch every single one of them and commit them into his memory permanently. He knew not what had caused them, nor could he do anything to heal them, but he wanted to acknowledge their existence, acknowledge the pain their bearer had suffered for them.
A small voice at the back of his head whispered that Ren’i would yet bear new scars on his skin and new burdens on his shoulders before the war was over, and there was nothing Hawk could do to prevent it, no matter how he may have wanted to.
Ren’i was a prince, and there was no place in the world where he was safe. Not even in a lonely cabin at the edge of the world.
A hoarse gasp escaped Ren’i’s throat when Hawk lifted his legs on his shoulders and left a kiss, then another against his inner thigh. The spot tingled afterwards.
”May I?” Hawk asked, his voice dark, and looked Ren’i straight in the eyes.
”You may.” Ren’i swallowed. ”Mind the teeth.”
Hawk smiled. ”I’ve done this before. Don’t worry.”
Ren’i grabbed a fistful of fur with shaking hands and forgot his concerns the moment Hawk took him in his mouth. There was no room in his mind for anything but Hawk, his lips, his tongue, every little noise he made as Ren’i bucked up to meet his every movement. At some point Ren’i let go of the pelts and buried his fingers in Hawk’s raven hair instead.
The Eight be damned, Hawk was going to be the end of him. Ren’i swore in each eight gods’ name as he came, and saw stars even as his heartrate was already calming down.
Hawk sat up and laughed upon seeing the look on Ren’i’s face. ”Will you manage?”
His voice was huskier than usual. The sound of it made Ren’i go red all over again.
Ren’i did not bother answering, and instead spread his arms in a wordless invitation. Hawk was all smiles as he crawled in Ren’i’s embrace. His eyes were twinkling in a way Ren’i had never seen before, and in that moment Ren’i was certain he was the handsomest man in the entire world.
”Sorry. I made an awful mess of your hair,” Ren’i said. He’d managed to undo most of the braid with his wandering fingers and gotten Hawk’s hair into one hell of a disarray. He brushed a long strand behind his ear.
”Horrible,” Hawk stated. ”I am never recovering from this.”
”Allow me to present an official apology, confirmed by the imperial crest, for this breach of territorial integrity.”
”May I demand compensation?”
”You’ve every right to it according to the law. And what would your lordship like?”
Hawk huffed a laugh. ”A kiss will do for starters. Do the imperial coffers have the funds to withstand such a demand?”
”Just about.”
His mouth tasted like salt. Ren’i snaked his arms around Hawk’s neck and kissed him once, unhurried and thorough, and decided to return the favour – royally – as soon as he got the chance, and had his thoughts sorted out once more.
Hawk laid his head against his breast, eyes closing momentarily as Ren’i played with his hair.
”Tell me something about yourself,” Hawk said, stroking a long, thin scar that ran under Ren’i’s left nipple.
”Why?”
Hawk shrugged. ”We met only a couple of moons ago. I want to learn to know you better.”
”Everyone knows me. I can’t go anywhere without being recognised.”
”They see the crown prince, not you,” Hawk said. ”I want to know who is the man known as Ren’i son of Oerei.”
Ren’i looped a strand of dark hair around his finger, ruminating. ”I’m not sure where to begin. No one has ever asked.”
”Well, for starters… How about you tell me where you’ve gotten all these scars?” Hawk lifted himself up on his elbows. He pointed at the pink scar between Ren’i’s ribs. ”I only know this one.”
Ren’i smirked. ”That one likely has the most interesting story behind it. The others are pretty ordinary. Do you still want to know?”
”I do.”
”Okay. Where do we start?”
Hawk thought, then tapped at the scar right next to Ren’i’s navel. It was as big as the tip of his thumb and jagged around the edges. ”This one.”
”Of course you’d go and pick that.” Ren’i looked embarrassed. ”That was my own fault. So, summer practice, my last rookie year. It was the hottest summer in Hol Saro in living memory and the captain made us practice in the middle of the day, so I was a moron and decided to go without the chainmail, wearing just an undershirt beneath the breastplate. Everything went to hell and fast. I was tired, my partner was faster. They went and jabbed the javelin right here,” he said and pointed. ”The captain was about to tear his hair off when they dragged me to the infirmary.”
Hawk stared at him. ”Are you serious?”
”Unfortunately. I did learn my lesson, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
”And nearly lost your life.”
”Well, not quite. I bled like hell, but the doctor said the wound was nowhere near as deep as it seemed initially.” Ren’i chuckled. ”The captain reprimanded me in front of the whole barrack once I was back on my feet. I doubt he’ll ever let me live it down.”
”How about this one?” Hawk pointed at a small scar on his right bicep.
”Sword. Memento from my first forest training camp.”
”This?”
”When I was little I fell down the library stairs while I was running away from my father. I can’t remember it myself, but he was apparently beyond hysterical when he found me there, bawling my eyes out and blood gushing from my forehead.”
Hawk pointed out scar after scar and Ren’i told him all he remembered of each of them, which wasn’t that much. He’d received so many scrapes during his military career that most of them had passed out of memory afterwards, leaving hazy recollections at best.
”This one I got while sparring with Linnee some years ago. I think this one’s from a hunting trip, I have a vague memory of us hunting foxes.” He squirmed when Hawk poked him in the armpit. There was a pale blotch where even body hair would not grow where the scar was. ”Watch it, that tickles.”
”How on earth have you managed to get a scar in such an odd place?”
”No clue. I can’t remember where it’s from.”
”Has anyone ever told you that you’re an accident waiting to happen?” Hawk asked, frowning profusely.
”Everyone,” Ren’i said. ”Just ask my father sometime. He’d have a story or two to share.”
Hawk caressed his right arm, fingers pausing on a wide scar only a couple of years old. The hook-toothed lynx had left its own marks next to it just mere months ago. The skin on the old scar was thin and pinkish, and Ren’i jolted thought Hawk’s touch was light.
”What about this one?”
Ren’i did not reply immediately. He stared at the scar, eyes glazed over for several long moments, the look on his face strangely vacant. He placed his hand on the scar. ”Burn mark. I received it when we were emptying houses in Galase, the artisan district.” He fell momentarily silent. ”Have you heard about the riots in Hol Saro?”
”Maybe,” Hawk said, thinking. ”I recall Ared mentioning unrest in the north at some point.”
Ren’i stroked the burn mark as he thought, barely aware of what he was doing. ”There have been those who oppose the royal house during the reign of each and every emperor and empress, but something has changed in the past decade. Rebel nests have spread all over the country. They have become organised, their attacks well planned.”
”Attacks?”
All traces of humour had vanished from Ren’i’s face. His hands became fists, knuckles whitening. He saw it in his mind clear as daylight, the city on fire, as though it had happened just yesterday.
”The rebels announced their presence in Hol Saro by attacking the district of Galase. Four apartment buildings collapsed in the explosions, killing three families. All full-bloods. We’ve torn the city apart in search of the insurgents, but the situation has just worsened.” He took a deep breath, but the lump in his throat would not relent. ”Last summer was the worst of all. Fires everywhere. The sky above the city was black with smoke and ash, the dead and the homeless waiting at every street corner. I got this scar then as a souvenir. We went looking for survivors, but there weren’t many to be found.”
”Looking. Inside burning houses.” Hawk said it like a statement, and Ren’i nodded.
”I will never forget it. That feeling as you step in, already knowing that there’s no hope, but you just have to keep looking.” Ren’i pointed at the thin scar next to the burn mark. ”The latest attack took place during the Spring Festival, before my arrival here. I got this protecting my aunt. The empress, I mean.”
Hawk placed his hand on the scar. The look in his face was solemn when he looked Ren’i in the eyes.
”I know what you’re thinking,” Ren’i said. ”And I can’t claim I don’t personally understand why they’re rebelling. I am not blind to how the empire treats some of its citizens.”
”A dangerous thing for the crown prince to say.”
”I know.”
Hawk held his hand tight. There was so much he would have wanted to say, words as sharp as glass he’d wanted to throw at Ren’i’s, at every taivashi’s face since their arrival. They’d all become perilous all of a sudden. It was one thing to take out his frustrations on Ren’i when he’d still been nothing but the Kishan heir, the figurehead of the army to Hawk, and not something more important. The words took on a different meaning coming from Ren’i’s mouth. One wrong sentence in the wrong place and he’d be labelled a traitor.
”I won’t tell anyone,” Hawk assured him, and he meant every word. ”I promise.”
”I fear you haven’t heard half of it yet.” Ren’i let out a weary sigh. ”The rebels are Kishan, my own people. And they have supporters in Hol Saro. Many, many more than the empress knows. The riots isolated the harbour from the rest of the city for weeks, because most of the citizens did not even try resisting the rebels.”
”And you fought against them.”
There was that same harried look in Ren’i’s eyes that Hawk had seen in them after their row in Liqaria. Something in him curled in on himself, away from Hawk, and Hawk did not know whether it was shame, fear, or something else.
”You don’t know what it feels like to turn your sword against your own people,” Ren’i said quietly. ”I should be their voice, their shield. But those they rebel against, whose homes they burn and whose families they kill, are also my people. How am I supposed to pick a side when someone else is bound to suffer no matter what I do?” He sighed again. ”Forget I said anything. This isn’t your burden to bear.”
Hawk’s hand was gentle as it brushed against his cheek. ”I’ll make us something to drink.”
”Thank you.”
Ren’i watched Hawk unbraiding his hair and tugging out the ribbons one by one while water boiled in the kettle. The thick straight hair fell freely all the way down to the small of his back. He pulled it on a ponytail without bothering to unravel the tangles left by Ren’i’s fingers whatsoever.
”Hey, Hawk?”
Hawk glanced over his shoulder.
”What would you like to do, if you weren’t a hunter?”
”How come?”
”I was just thinking.”
Ren’i accepted the steaming mug Hawk handed to him gratefully. The fruity scent of the tea filled the room, and Ren’i felt himself relaxing. Hawk took a seat beside him, taking a slow sip from his own mug.
”I’m not sure,” Hawk said at last. ”I don’t know anything else that’s useful.”
”It doesn’t have to be useful. Imagine if you could do anything at all just because you feel like it.”
”Hmm.” His eyes flitted towards the bookshelf. ”I’d read more. I might even write something myself, perhaps.”
Ren’i smiled. Just for a moment he pictured taking Hawk to the imperial library in Hol Saro one day, and could nearly see the look on his face as he took in the endless shelves, stacked high with books from every corner of the continent. Asari classics from the mountains of Kara, Nemerwatanese philosophy and social sciences, Central Kishan poetry from Trimaine, epic northern sagas from the age before the separation of Awa.
”How about you?” Hawk asked. ”What would you do if you were no longer in the army?”
”Who, me?” Ren’i gulped down his drink to buy himself more time to think. ”I’d go riding more often. And take a long vacation. I wouldn’t get up before noon once for at least a year.”
Hawk looked amused. ”That’s all?”
”Well…” Ren’i thought fervently. ”I suppose I could give painting a shot sometime. My father has a workshop in the palace. He tried to get me interested in the arts when I was little.”
”Did it work?”
He shook his head. ”My aunt thought I was more suited for a career in the military. I was officially declared heir to the throne when I turned 26, and I’ve done little else than focus on the army ever since.”
It showed. Hawk could not picture him with a brush in hand, sitting still for hours on end working on the same picture. The Ren’i he knew had restless feet and never stayed in the same place for too long.
”What would you paint if you had the chance?” Hawk asked.
”Hmm, well. Sunrises, I guess?”
”Romantic.”
”I can’t think of anything else. My father likes painting them. Actually, hang on…” Ren’i scratched at the back of his neck. With his mind’s eye he could see a breathtaking vista that haunted his dreams sometimes. The pious silence could not be erased from his memory, and though no brush in the world could ever transfer it on canvas he still felt the burning desire to try. ”Remember the Khuusian mountains? Snow, mist, low-hanging clouds… It would make for a fine landscape.”
”Here I thought you’d want to purge the whole place from your memory.”
”I doubt I can. And it was a lovely place, despite everything.” He smiled suddenly and poked Hawk with his elbow. ”Hey, what’s your favourite colour?”
”Green,” Hawk said at once. ”Like moss. Or the woods during the rains.”
”Personally, I like blue. The kind of blue snow turns in winter, just moments after sundown.”
They emptied the whole teapot in comfortable silence. Hawk tended the fire before they lay down again, and it was so pleasantly warm beneath the furs that Ren’i yawned in earnest.
”I wish I could spent a whole week in here,” he muttered, half-asleep.
”Well, at least tomorrow we do need to visit the festival.”
”Why? Is there something special going on?”
”Sort of. You ought to see the kekri dance at least.”
”The what now?”
Hawk just hummed. ”You’ll see.”