Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Begone, traitor.”

The sigh that Jouno breathes out sharply through his nose is too exaggerated to not be anything but purposeful, and he knows his little guest understands this.

The intruder chuckles under his breath as he takes his position a respectable distance from the king, arms folded neatly behind his back as if he has no intention of obeying the command bestowed upon him— with much disdain, rather.

He observes the way the king is sitting: legs parted and posture slack— seeming to have lost tension now that the Royal Court has been dismissed— with a single gloved hand acting as an anchor for his temple while his fingers fruitlessly massage into his forehead. His other hand grips the jewelled head of his sceptre with his thumb tapping against the gold length, a plain giveaway to something grander. The jewel-encrusted crown sits neatly atop his head, the blood-red rubies catching the reflection of one of the lights just right to reflect his visitor’s eyes.

The slight crease between Jouno’s eyebrows indicates his exhaustion from what he had to attend to today with his jaw clenched, hell, with the way his teeth are grinding, his molars might as well smooth themselves out. Regardless, he is not happy.

Jouno is truly a sight to withhold.

“You wound me, Your Highness.”

“Apparantly not enough .” Jouno retorts with a click of his tongue, tutting in annoyance at the presence of such an obnoxious man, “since you’re still loitering here, like a dawdler.”

“Well, this is quite the nice hall—”

“Dazai.”

The smile that pulls at his lips at the stern call of his name only further adds to the painful pulsing in Jouno’s temple, suppressing a groan when he senses that Dazai is about to quip back with absolutely no regard for Jouno’s wilting patience.

“Why, I cannot make myself leave when my king’s worries have not been quenched,” Jouno rolls his eyes under his eyelids at the sweet, sweet irony of his words. “As your most trusted advisor, it is but my humble duty to rid you of your worries.”

“Half of my worries would leave with you marching your ass out that door, I assure you.” Jouno sneers. “After all, you are the bane of my existence at this very moment.”

Dazai sighs, making no move to leave.

Typically, Jouno’s orders are absolute. The man has not once had to repeat himself to anyone, and quite frankly, no one in his court has dared to test his patience as Dazai does.

He supposes that’s at least one perk of being friends with royalty.

“If it weren’t for me, Jouno-sama, your bride would be walking down the aisle this very second.” 

“Well, I suppose I should thank you for delaying that for next week then, hm?” The sarcasm that laces his voice almost does the trick in concealing the venom in his words.

The primary issue of Jouno refusing to have a dynasty for whatever reason has brought his Court a great deal of stress, noblemen steaming at their ears as Jouno rejects suitress after suitress with a generous amount of them being their very own daughters.

Granted, it would be wise to take a bride from nobility, but Jouno doesn’t feel the need for a wife, he’s been holding the Court off in this regard long enough for it to become a long-term issue, but regardless— the idea of marriage repulses him…

…which is exactly what Dazai has gotten him into.

“Your infantility is comical, might I say,” Dazai says and just revels in the way Jouno almost springs up and out of his seat to personally make his advisor meet his end. Before he could interject, though, Dazai continued. “And you’re not taking a bride, you’re merely courting a friend. I made sure the arrangement would tip in your favour.”

“The ever clairvoyant prodigy, aren’t you? Spare me your bullshit.”

Dazai chuckles, tipping his head low in what one might assume is embarrassment, but between the both of them, Jouno knows it is anything but. In fact, it might as well be a telltale sign that Dazai already knows how this entire exchange might end.

“Don’t you trust me, My Liege?” 

Jouno’s eyes narrow at the soft undertone of his friend’s voice, a single eyebrow raising in amusement.

“I trusted you to not ask abhorrent questions.”

“Allow me to make an equally appalling assumption, then?”

A shaky laugh escapes the king as he sits up attentively, ears perking up as they listen to the very interesting beating of Dazai’s heart.

“You ask as though you care for my permission to run your mouth.”

Dazai sneers.

“You’re a lonely, lonely man.”

Jouno’s smile doesn’t budge. It flickers at the corner of his mouth as the words seer right through his ears, but he doesn’t falter, not one bit.

They stare at each other, the silence hanging thick between them as Dazai keenly watches Jouno not move a muscle, clearly rendered speechless.

The rumour (between a few of the king’s acquaintances) about Jouno’s estranged lover is comparable to a fairytale— something you’d read in a Shakespearean novel as something tragic and worth shedding a tear over.

Jouno put forth all his efforts to ensure that no one caught wind of what he was busying himself with when he’d lie about going out to the mountains to hunt , but alas, he did sooner or later expect to be caught.

It just so happened that the then crown prince and the son of one of the court nobles of the time coincidentally met each other in a cave infamous for being a rendezvous point to bring one’s liaisons to,

In which case, they both brought a date, and their dates were both men.

Dazai would argue that that was when they first became friends (his focal argument being that his catching sight of something he shouldn’t have seen should at least mean something,) Jouno would beg to differ.

“Do you tell yourself that when you’re whoring yourself out to the first man who spares you the time of the day?”

Dazai snorts, making his shoulders shake from amusement.

“Well, aren’t you curious.”

The brune feels it before he sees it, but when he does catch sight of Jouno’s light lashes mere centimetres away from his face, it’s after his neck feels the chill that resonates from the edge of the king’s dagger.

“Don’t mock me on the assumption that we’re friends, Dazai, because we’re not.” Jouno’s hot breath fans against Dazai’s chin, the action making a near-devilish smirk stretch across the advisor’s lips.

“I have seen your bare ass, Your Highness.”

A pulse nearly pops in Jouno’s temple from both frustration and embarrassment as he recalls just how Dazai of all people saw him in all his naked glory— which is not something he’s proud of.

“Do you wish for me to mop the floor with your blood?” Jouno’s seething, but Dazai doesn’t really care. After all, what he was aiming for has already halfway been fulfilled.

“Only if you’re into that.” The wink that follows is what compels Jouno to pull back with a grimace, pure disgust washing over his features at the vile presumption.

Jouno’s apparent reaction elicits a laugh from Dazai who just revels in watching the king plop back down on his seat with a huff of exhaustion. Even though this loose banter back and forth still occurs under a flimsy guise of formality, it’s very obvious that the king and his advisor share a less-than-cordial relationship.

“Careful, you’re growing a few grey hairs there.” Dazai adds after a few seconds involving Jouno just huffing in annoyance.

The silence that follows is enough to indicate that Dazai’s joke did not land as intended.

Jouno ignores this and sinks a little where he sits, resting his back against his seat which makes the hefty crown on his head tip a little to the side. He doesn’t bother fixing it and lets it sit lopsidedly, lifting one of his legs to cross it over the other as he allows himself to get lost in his train of thought…

A wedding?

He laughs at the mere idea of binding the vows of forever with someone, almost gagging at the prospect like a child who finds the idea of being in love repulsing. Jouno doesn’t ever see himself doing that, with anyone, regardless of who they might be…

It’s times like this where he misses being a young prince, when all he was ever expected to do by his court was sit by his father’s side and watch; times where duty didn’t weigh on him with the consequence of the failure of his entire nation, his lineage.

Dazai merely watches him in curiosity as the king cranes his head up at him, as if he’s analysing his advisor for something he can’t predict. He can tell there’s words barred behind Jouno’s teeth that he lets sit on his tongue, for even though they share a peculiar bond of friendship, there are just some things that even the king’s advisor must be ignorant of.

It’s not because the king doesn’t trust him, but because secrets like those could weigh heavy on him, and Jouno isn’t sure if he wants to burden Dazai with that perspective— someone who has nothing to do with the war he fights with himself with no hope of victory.

“Is something the matter, My Liege?”

Jouno’s eyelids flicker as if he were caught off-guard in his thinking. He smiles, still, even if it doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Yes, in fact,” he says with feigned enlightenment, “I was just thinking about who my new advisor should be, since my previous one has his head shoved very far up his own ass.”

Dazai snickers at this with the back of his hand briefly covering his mouth as if he forgot the basic etiquette of how to behave around a king, his smile wide enough to engrain a dimple into one of his cheeks. When he calms down, though, he evens out his breathing with an exhale through his nose and lets his shoulders relax, uttering his next string of words with his whole chest,

“I hope you offer him better benefits than you do to me, then.”

Jouno raises an eyebrow, amused.

“Benefits? Do you want me to bed him?” Jouno scoffs after gauging Dazai’s reaction, which is nothing more than a shrug and a tilt of his head with a pout— insinuating that Jouno’s presumption isn’t totally off the mark.

“Hey, now. He’ll have to get in line.”

For the first time today, Jouno lets out a genuine laugh, his shoulders shaking from the intensity. He reaches one gloved hand up to reposition his crown and leans forward with his sceptre digging into the lush carpet between his feet, smiling in delight at the implication.

“A bit full of ourselves, hm?” Jouno says with another light laugh. Dazai never fails to surprise him with his occasional half-witted jests.

“What can I say, I am a good lay.” The brune follows this up with a wink at the king, earning a look of mock surprise from him.

“I am sure you are.” Jouno retorts with a bow of his head to enunciate his response, if only to find contentment in the way Dazai’s heartbeat slightly stutters.

This makes Dazai pull his head back with the slightest of hope.

“Are you suggesting you’re willing to—”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?” Jouno interjects before he has to hear another one of Dazai’s proud presumptions, rising to his feet and stepping down from where his seat is situated above the small ledge. He tips his chin down as his face darkens menacingly, his smile void of it’s previous amusement. Jouno sighs as if what he’s about to say dismays him, when in reality, he could care less. “It’d be a shame if your father were to find out.”

The smirk that stretches across the noble’s face is calling for danger, if anything, a danger that neither of them can afford.

“Well, isn’t it great that I’ve never been caught, then,” Dazai counters with an equally as low voice, feeding greatly into Jouno’s little game.

The king sneers.

“If I’m ever interested in a rebound, you’d be the first person I’d approach, rest assured.” He pats Dazai’s chest in mock sympathy, feigning a compassionate smile as his voice drips with a honey-like sweetness.

Dazai’s eyes narrow in mock offence, followed by a huff of disdain.

“How flattering to be considered being bedded by the king!” He says with an exaggerated amount of exhilaration, pressing one hand against his chest as if he were touched by Jouno’s kindness. “Although, I do have one question,”

He doesn’t even bothering encouraging him into asking before Dazai opens his mouth,

“Would I be a more worthy candidate of your affection if I were a knight?”

Jouno’s smile wavers just as Dazai’s grows.

The noble watches the flicker in his king’s expression and is well aware he struck a nerve, something that is bound to land him in an unfavourable position sooner or later, because Jouno doesn’t quip back with a retort like he usually does, but instead just stands there, grinning.

For a moment, Dazai assumes he genuinely took it too far, but then Jouno lightly scoffs, his breath sharp.

“You may take your leave.” He says lowly in a voice that sounds defeated, as if he has no mind in further humouring his antics, simply because he’s now exhausted with the repetitive nature of this conversation.

Dazai doesn’t move for a moment and basks in the proximity between them; up this close, he can even catch a whiff of Jouno’s musky perfume, the woodsy scent settling comfortably in his nose.

Even so, he takes a bold step back before Jouno decides he’s actually cross with him and condemns him to an inconvenient punishment, bowing his head in customary obedience (which neither of them take seriously, for that matter.)

“As you wish, Your Highness.” Dazai says with every bit of formality he can muster within himself, straightening up before stepping just close enough to Jouno to whisper breathily next to his ear, “Alas, I am bound to fulfil your desires.”

Jouno’s stature doesn’t falter when Dazai pulls back and bows halfway once again, turning on his heel and finally leaving his king to sit with his own thoughts.