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Taking the forest route is a bad, bad idea, and Minami is not opposed to pointing out the fact. Loudly. Constantly. Until it gets through at least one of these dwarves’ thick heads.
“I really think we should go around,” he says, not for the first nor the last time. The forest hasn’t been overtly hostile yet, but he doesn’t like their chances. The land surrounding Woodland is by far the most shrouded in mystery of all the elven kingdoms, and the rumor mill is always rife with fresh tales of the fantastical—ranging from the ones that are kind to mortals to the not-so-kind. He’d prefer not to try his luck, if he can help it.
“Oh, do you think?” Leo quips, placid smile a bit strained as Guang Hong assists him in hiking the sacks higher up on his back. “Look, I don’t like it any more than you do. But this is the quickest way to Lake District.”
“What are you so worried about anyway?” Jean Jacques snorts. “A bunch of prissy elves? You should be grateful. Maybe you’ll catch a glimpse of the illustrious Queen of Woodland.”
The dwarves of their party raise a rousing cheer at the prospect.
“The queen?” Of course Minami has heard of the infamous Queen of Woodland—who hasn’t?—but only in careful whispers, traded only by the most well-traveled of fellows. The descriptions are sparse and invaluable—varying from person to person—but one fact always remains: that she is the most beautiful creature to ever walk the earth. “What do you know of the queen?”
“Not much,” Jean Jacques cackles. “But I’d like to know more, if you know what I mean.”
“Careful,” Otabek warns over the snapping of twigs underfoot. “It’s said that the king doesn’t take too kindly to that type of talk.”
Now that is a figure Minami is familiar with. He’d have to be. Any guide worth their salt had to be wary of the infamous ice king. He was typically fair and didn’t delve much into mortal affairs, but he was notoriously protective over the queen—which, really, only attracted more interest to her.
“Fine, I’ll keep my comments to myself if we happen across them.”
“’If’?” Minami clutches his maps. “No, no, no. We are going way around Woodland Castle.”
“We’ll go around it,” Leo assures. “We’ll walk right up to it and walk around. Simple.”
“What—?”
“It’s the most direct route.”
“But—!”
“We’ll lose a day if we bank around it.”
Minami throws up his hands. “Why even hire a guide if you’re not going to take any of my advice?”
“To round out the group?” Guang Hong offers.
“Yes, that’s it.” Jean Jacques chortles. “We needed a scrawny human in the mix to spice things up.”
Minami just groans.
“This is a baaaaaaaad idea.”
“We heard you the first hundred times.”
They’re very close now. Too close. Mortals aren’t supposed to trek so far; he can feel something in the air—a shimmer in the trees, a trembling in the ground—as though nature itself is telling them to turn back.
Minami stops.
“Wait…”
The dwarves, miraculously, do.
Minami squints. “Doesn’t that look strange to you? Up ahead?”
“I see nothing,” Jean Jacques deadpans.
“No, wait… I think I see it too.” Otabek points to the sky, outlining something nearly intangible. “See there? It’s… watery, almost. But you can see glimpses like stars forming a constellation all around it.”
Leo sighs. “Well, we can’t give up now. We’re nearly at the heart of Woodland, so—“
Minami’s vision darkens, black spots overwhelming him everywhere he looks. He has been struck, he realizes, when through the bombardment, he watches his dwarven companions get taken down in the same manner: with a swift hit to the back of the head, delivered from cloaked figures dropping down from the trees. They’ve probably been tailed this whole time, he figures, as he falls to his knees, then his hands.
Then everything goes dark and quiet.
Consciousness comes slowly—in blinks, in groans—and this is how Minami awakens: to two elves holding him upright on either side. He lolls his head to the right and sees his dwarven companions are in similar dire straits, already well awake from their impromptu nap. They’re kicking out at the elves’ shins, but their captors don’t even deign to entertain the behavior, staring straight ahead, entirely unconcerned.
The great double doors before them open with an ancient creak.
It’s the King of Woodland, Minami immediately knows. It’s the crystal blue eyes—the ones people never fail to mention—and the cascading white hair, reaching down to his mid-back. Admittedly, the sharp crystals upon his brow are undercut by the softness of the braids he has woven behind each ear, crafted by someone with an exceedingly gentle touch.
Yet, it’s his eyes again that draw Minami’s attention. They’re flickering, he realizes—oceans to ice—and the chamber seems to be getting colder and colder with each step they take further in.
Minami swallows, shallowly.
The king strides before the throne but remains standing, a hand propped against his side as he surveys them. “What business do you have in Woodland?” he speaks lowly. “Answer wisely. Any statement could be your last.”
Minami opens his mouth, but Jean Jacques beats him to it: “We have no business in Woodland! We just wanted passage through the forest!”
“Hm.” The king considers this, glancing out the window—at the woods itself, Minami thinks. “Is that so? And what evidence do you have of this?”
“In my satchel,” Minami croaks. He cranes his neck, searching for his things. “I mapped a route to Lake District. It’s all there.”
The king looks to one of the elves remaining by the door; they disappear and reappear with his bag. The contents are spilt, the king picking through them until he comes across the map in question. It unravels in his hands, hanging loosely from his fingers as though it pains him to be associated with it. “Mm, yes, I see. And it seems you drew an ugly, thick line right through my kingdom. Have you an explanation for this?”
“Because it was the fastest way,” Leo answers, strained.
“We weren’t going to go through your kingdom,” Guang Hong assists.
“Oh…?”
“We were going to go around!” Jean Jacques squeals. “Around!”
“Don’t raise your voice at me.” The king rolls the map up once more, his attention solely on the parchment before him as though the company bores him. “And no sudden movements, or I won’t hold myself accountable for what befalls you.”
Otabek cuts a look at Minami, imploringly.
Minami clears his throat. “Your Majesty, we truly didn’t mean to traverse your kingdom. We were merely seeking passage to Lake District, nothing more.”
The king narrows his eyes. “And what awaits you in Lake District? What compelling reason has a human travelling with four dwarves?”
“I’m their guide.”
“Not a very good one,” a blonde elf scoffs from his post next to the doorway.
“Hey, he told us to go around!”
“Do not raise your voice.” The king’s eyes flash dangerously. “I will not be asking again.” He lifts a pale eyebrow. “I asked you a question, and I expect an answer.”
Minami steels himself. “Your Majesty, if you could just—“
“Victor…?”
There is an elf by the door, holding a delicate hand to the wood while the other clutches at his breast, bunching the soft, white fabric of his silken garment between his fingers. His hair is sleep-mussed—uncommonly short too for an elf, Minami can’t help but notice—and his skin is flushed a rosy hue.
But most prominently, his gentle eyes are welled up with tears.
“Darling—“ The endearment is breathed as if in prayer, soft as though anything else would shatter him to pieces. At once, the king crosses the floor, untangling the other’s fingers from his dress to hold them, stroke the back of his hand reverently.
“What are you doing here, love?” he asks in Elvish. The dwarves exchange looks, unsure of what is being conveyed.
But Minami understands every word.
“I got worried when I woke up and you weren’t there.” Tears like pearls roll down his cheeks, catching at the indents still there from a pillow. “You know I can’t… can’t…”
The king brushes the moisture aside with the lightest of touches, folding the other into his arms.
That’s when it finally clicks.
“He’s… the Queen of Woodland.”
But it’s as though the rest of them have ceased to exist.
“Go back and rest, my love.” The king noses against the queen’s temple; he presses a kiss there that has the queen’s eyelashes fluttering. “You need all you can get right now. I promise I’ll be there in a moment. You won’t even have time to miss me.”
“Mm, but I already do,” he says, returning the gesture under the king’s chin.
It’s then that the king seems to remember that the world hasn’t simply faded away.
“Yura, if you would please…”
The blonde elf from before needn’t be told twice. He scrambles quite ungracefully for one of his kind to the queen’s side, offering an arm.
He accepts, and the doors are shut softly behind them.
And the spell is broken.
“That can’t be the Queen of Woodland!” Jean Jacques cries indignantly, flailing his limbs. “The Queen of Woodland is supposed to be a beautiful woman, not a—“
Minami has never witnessed a being move so fast.
“How dare you, dwarf?” The king has a sheet of ice held to Jean Jacques’s throat, carving a thin, red line along the skin. “You don’t deserve to breathe the same air as him, let alone insult him. You should be on your knees thanking him, in fact, as the only reason your head isn’t rolling on the floor is that I don’t want to come back to him with your filthy blood on my hands.” He draws back—just a hair—and evaporates the ice into dust in his palm. “Take them out of my sight. I will deal with them later.”
“W-wait!” Minami struggles against the manhandling, trying to at least reach the floor. “We have to get to Lake District before—“
“That isn’t my concern.” The king has his back to them now but cuts a cool glance over the shoulder. “I live forever, as you very well know. It may take a while, if you refuse to come out with the truth, but I have all the time in the world. Think on that, won’t you?”
“But—!”
The throne room doors shutter decisively shut behind them.
“A man,” Jean Jacques bemoans, sniveling. He’s slumped against the dungeon wall, drawing a fingernail against the cobbled ground. “I can’t believe the Queen of Woodland is a man.”
A red-haired elven guard snorts from beyond the bars rather ungracefully. “You mortals always were oddly particular about those sorts of things.”
Minami perks up, scooching a bit closer. “What do you mean?”
She doesn’t move but glances back out of the corner of her eye at him. “Mortals are so narrow-minded. They place genders in separate categories as though it means anything at all.”
The other guard chuckles deeply far across the way. “Think, Mila, if you had been born a mortal, you might be someone’s housewife right now.”
“Impossible, since I would have died some thousand-odd years ago.” They chortle as though the concept of others’ short lives is comical.
Minami raps against the barrier, earning back their attention. “I beg your pardon, but why is he called the ‘Queen’ of Woodland if he is a man?”
“It’s merely a title,” the dark-haired elf answers. “The king is whomever inherits the position or wins authority. The queen is the king’s partner. Gender plays no part.”
“Besides which,” the other adds, “we aren’t limited to set forms like you mortals.”
“What do you mean by—?”
“Mila! Switch out with me!”
Mila rolls her shoulders, unfolding her arms from behind her back. “Thank the goddess.” Her footsteps echo up the staircase, the blonde elf from the throne room coming to take her place.
He stares staunchly anywhere but at the prisoners.
“How is His Majesty, the Queen?” Otabek questions, blasé. “He seemed unwell to me."
Shockingly, the elf’s shoulders slacken, if only barely. “Not that it is any of your concern, dwarf, but he is fine. He’s simply… going through a hardship right now.”
“What kind of hardship?” Minami asks, too eagerly.
The elf’s eyes go hard again. “I said it was none of your concern!”
“What kind of hardships can elves go through, anyway?” Guang Hong wonders aloud. “They’re immortals, aren’t they? I wouldn’t think they could get ill.”
“He’s not ill,” the elf denies. “He’s just… unwell.”
The other guard shoots the younger a look, his lips pursed.
They both remain silent.
“You care about him a lot,” Otabek observes, correctly.
The blonde’s face goes tellingly red, but he grits his teeth and says nothing.
It is hard to tell how much time goes by, after that. Certainly less than they expected. But Minami finds himself ordered awake far later, rising to his feet when prompted. They all do, falling in line one after the other.
Minami supposes it’s finally time to make their case.
When they reenter the throne room, he startles at seeing not just the king there but the queen as well, a soft smile upon his face. They’re both seated, and the queen has one of the king’s hands in his own, playing idly with the fingers.
It’s like watching a kitten paw at the tail of a dragon.
They are brought, then, to a halt before them.
“Thank you for joining us again,” the queen says, as though it was entirely in their control to do so.
(Minami still feels a little grateful nonetheless.)
“My partner seems to think I may have misjudged you.” The king has his bright eyes fixated on them, appearing willing and able to pounce at any twitch or unapproved intake of breath. “He has convinced me to let you defend yourselves, and I fully expect that you will thank him for his unending kindness and generosity.”
“Vitya, that’s not necessary…”
The king settles against the throne. “After, then—if you convince us of your innocence. Otherwise you will have to beg of us mercy instead.”
The queen actually smiles at this, as though the king is merely teasing. “So—“ He turns his attention back to the interlopers, gems chiming together against his crown. “—tell us: What brings you to Woodland?”
The dwarves look to Minami.
He gulps.
“W-well, Your Majesty, as we tried to tell the king earlier—“ A cut glance to said elf. “—we didn’t mean to come to Woodland at all. We were on our way to Lake District.”
“Hm?” The queen tilts his head at this. “Whatever for?”
Minami looks to Leo. “It’s kind of… a sensitive matter—“
“As I’d imagine your continued existence would be, if you wish to maintain it,” the king delivers sharply.
“Ah, well—“ Minami searches the dwarves’ expressions for any direction or indication. “I… signed a contract… to guide Leo and his comrades to Lake District for… a reason.”
The queen blinks, a poised gesture. “That reason being…?”
He bites into his lip. “I can’t say.”
The king’s eyes flash. “Then I suppose this inquiry is over.”
“Vitya, please.” The queen grasps the other’s hand still in his lap pleadingly. “Let’s hear them out.”
The king runs a thumb along the queen’s knuckles but says nothing.
It seems to be answer enough.
“Why can you not tell us?” the queen asks, pitying.
Minami takes a breath. “It was in the contract. It’s a dwarven matter. I’m not to discuss it.”
The king narrows his focus on Leo, whom he seems to have sussed out as the leader. “Have you something against elves meddling in your affairs? Perhaps you should have thought of that before you meddled in ours.”
“It was an accident!” Jean Jacques interjects.
“I believe that.” The queen’s soothing voice quiets the chaos before it can properly take hold. “If you had sinister intentions, the forest would have known right away.”
“The forest…?”
“It’s enchanted.”
Well. Some guide he is, Minami thinks, missing a crucial detail like that.
“You wouldn’t have made it nearly as far as you did if you had meant Woodland or any of its inhabitants harm.”
“I will concede the point,” the king says, gracious. “However, I remain suspicious on the grounds of your inability—or rather, your obstinate refusal—to answer why you desire to travel to Lake District.”
Minami bites his tongue.
Then his mouth is opening—in shock, in awe—as the queen’s eyes flicker a brilliant red.
“There’s a dwarven gathering in Lake District, to be attended by all the leaders across the land.”
The king appears panicked. “Darling—“
“Leo is the dwarven prince of the Western Mountains.”
“Love—“
“There’s… a rumor of war on the horizon. Your stubborn dwarven pride doesn’t want elves to… interfere…”
Minami watches as the crimson fades out of the queen’s eyes, snuffed out like a flame. He falls back against the throne—but the king is there to cradle the back of his head before he drops completely, bundling the queen in his arms.
“Yuuri, you weren’t supposed to…” It’s spoken in Elvish, rasping and vulnerable.
The queen merely sighs into his collar. “You worry too much. I just need to rest.” He nuzzles, just a touch. “They’re innocent, Vitya, so let them go.”
The king presses a kiss to his hair. “I will, darling. Later.” He rises to his full height with the queen in his arms, commanding, “Find these men accommodations. We will talk further on the matter in the morning.”
Guang Hong untucks himself from Leo’s side. “But Your Majesty! We need every day we can get if we’re to—“
The king silences them with a glare over the queen’s head. “Do not make me repeat myself.”
With that, he departs.
Yuuri’s eyes are brown—a deep, dark brown—and Victor can at last breathe a little easier.
“I’m all right, Vitya,” Yuuri says, reaching a hand up to stroke his lover’s cheek. Victor clutches it, holds it to himself. “We’re all right.”
Victor’s other hand wanders, hardly displacing the material of Yuuri’s dress as he strokes over his abdomen. “They said you should avoid expending energy… at least until you’re further along.”
Yuuri drops a hand over Victor’s, keeping him there. “Nothing is going to happen. Besides, it’s so frustrating not being able to read you… or anyone, for that matter. It’s like walking around with my eyes closed.”
“I understand, but—“
“I’ll be careful, Vitya.” He amends, sheepish, “Careful now,” at the look his beloved gives him.
“Please… It’s the only time when you—“
“Shh, I said it’s all right.” He slides his hand off his stomach, rolling to his side and patting the space beside him. “Come. Hold me.”
Immediately, Victor lays himself down, drawing Yuuri close. “Of course.”
Yuuri runs a hand through Victor’s hair—just behind the ear, where it makes him all shivery and delighted—all the way down to the plaits he had braided into Victor’s hair that morning. “Talk to them…?”
Like Victor would ever refuse such a beautiful request.
“Your mother gave me a terrible scare today,” he says, tracing circles on the gentle curve of Yuuri’s stomach. He puts on a voice, telling them, “That was not very nice of him, was it?”
“Rude.” But Yuuri is laughing softly under Victor’s ministrations.
Victor’s hand stills. “However… he did save the lives of some innocent people and bring our attention to a brewing war we otherwise would have been blindsided by. So perhaps I shall forgive him.”
“So generous.” Yuuri closes his eyes. “Ah… What are we going to do about that anyway?"
Victor kisses his temple. “We won’t be doing anything. I will be taking care of the matter while you rest.”
Yuuri groans. “You know how I hate feeling useless.”
“Love,” Victor says, the precursor to a lecture.
Yuuri simply nods, his eyes remaining closed. “I do think… I wouldn’t be opposed to a nap right about now.”
“Then sleep.” Victor tucks the blankets closer around them. “I’ll be here when you wake.”
Sated, Yuuri finally does.
The truth comes out—all of it—within Woodland’s war room. Maps are contrasted, dates are cross-referenced; the king is not satisfied until the entirety of their business is laid bare.
“I see.” King Victor has a finger to his lips, a stitch in his brow. He looks more… well, human isn’t the right word, but… approachable. More so like they’re on equal ground. “I hadn’t realized the goblins had gotten so out of hand.”
“Aye.” Leo has dropped his own façade as well, all pretenses of not being an honorable dwarven prince abandoned. “They invaded the Northern Mountains last spring. The winter was apparently worse than usual, leaving them with little resources. They pillaged my people in a bid to survive—and if that had been it, we may have overlooked it. But now they’ve a taste for conquest, and they’re on the move.”
The king nods, drawing a finger across a map of the continent. “Both east… and south.”
“Yes.” Leo tenses, his jaw clenched. “Now they’re on the edge of Lake District, the human village. That is why we dwarves decided to meet there. We figured they could use a warning—as well as an army, assuming our numbers do not deter the goblins upon our entrance.”
“Rather admirable of you.”
“Doesn’t come without a price,” Jean Jacques assures, rubbing two fingers against his thumb. “Lake District is easy passage to the eastern valley, which is rich in minerals and ore. We’ll be negotiating terms with the humans for sure, if they want our protection.”
The king regards this with a low drone, as though he expected it all along.
“If I may express my opinion as a human,” Minami says, trying not to shrink beneath the king’s icy-cold stare, “I think it’s a win-win, really. Lake District is no kingdom; it’ll definitely need help fending off goblins. And safe passage to the valley is hardly a steep price. I think we’ll get along rather amicably.”
“But what happens when the dwarves beat back the goblins, hmm?” the king demands. “Anything less than total annihilation will force them back—“ He stabs a shard of ice into the map: right above the crossroads of Woodland and the Northern Mountains. “—here, where they will either retreat to their own dwelling or come to bother us.”
“Surely they won’t—“
“Can you promise that? Swear an oath?”
“Certainly Woodland’s army would have no trouble—“
“Do not presume to know what is and what isn’t trouble for my army, dwarf.”
The war chamber at that moment, Minami figures, is colder than even the very heart of the Northern Mountains.
“Victor…”
The king turns to regard the blonde elf who had merely been observing up until then, some severity melting off his features. “Yes, Yura?”
“I… have something of a proposition.”
“Go on.”
“Yura” approaches the war table, eyes surveying the charts. “It is as you say: If the dwarves are successful—either in scaring away or beating back the goblins—they will be retreating in our direction. This is, perhaps, inevitable. But if we elves were made aware of their movements beforehand, we may be able to deter them yet from entering our territory—or slay them outside of it, if such a thing comes to pass. Either way, the danger wouldn’t ever near Woodland Castle, a safe distance from harm.”
The king’s exhales a breath, slow. “You propose reconnaissance.”
“Yes.”
“And you… would like to lead it.”
The elf finally lifts his gaze. “Yes.”
The king sighs. “Yura, you’re only five hundred and fourteen—“
“Five hundred and fifteen—“
“You’re no age to be leading a mission such as this.”
“Others can come with me! And we won’t engage in combat! Only watch and report!”
The king groans, pinching at the bridge of his nose. He says something in Elvish under his breath; Minami thinks he hears a “your father’s son” in there, somewhere.
“Candidly,” Otabek says, his first words of the day, “I think it’s an excellent proposition. And our company—“ He gives them each a look, pointedly. “—will certainly keep an eye on him as well. We can only benefit from having elven help.”
King Victor rolls his eyes heavenwards. “Oh, goddess, I’m considering it.”
Yura almost glows. “You mean it?”
“You will send letters—“
“Yes.”
“—and listen to your elders—“
“Yes!”
“—and avoid any confrontation with outsiders—“
“Yes, yes! Come on, Victor!”
The king just holds a hand to his forehead. “This will come as a blow to Yuuri.”
“I’ll speak with him,” the young elf assures. “He’ll understand.”
The king flicks his hand towards the map, the shard he’d left there dissolving into powder, sparkling into dust. “Then… I suppose I’ll allow it.”
“Thank you!”
“However—“ He cuts a look over his shoulder at each dwarf. “—none of you should get too comfortable. I still find it detestable that you were on the verge of launching an attack without considering how this would affect Woodland. You can be assured that I will be having Yuri keep a close watch on you—“
“The queen, Your Majesty?” Minami asks.
The king drops a hand upon the blonde elf’s shoulder. “This Yuri.”
“But the queen—?”
“Named after him,” Yuri offers, curt, but the way he lifts his chin belies pride in the fact; and the flush to his cheeks betrays a long story, something to be excavated later.
But Leo rises then, placing his palms flat against the war table. “Then we are agreed.”
And just like that, the party is fixed to the task at hand.
“You will write me letters, yes?” Queen Yuuri is pushing back the younger Yuri’s hair, trying to get it to stay behind his ears, futilely. He begins to weave a plait when that doesn’t work, only for Yuri to brush him off with a playful eye-roll.
Even so— “Of course.”
The queen pinkens, as if only then recognizing his doting. The king folds the other under his arm at this, easy as breathing. “And not just those stuffy reports, all right? I want to know how you are.”
“It’s a war mission, Yuuri. It’s not like I’m going to find my Goddess’s Intended out there.”
“You never do know…”
“We should get going,” Guang Hong says, strapping the last of their bags to a borrowed pony. “We’ve lost so much time already.”
Jean Jacques turns from bridling his own ride, displeasure denting his cheek. “Where the hell is our navigator?”
“Here! I’m here!”
Minami vaults down the steps of Woodland castle, a ribbon of maps echoing his steps. He gathers up the parchment in his hands upon his descent, stuffing it into a saddle bag. “I needed some of these! They’re way more up to date than anything we had in Fieldton.” He pauses, turns to the Woodland monarchs, chagrined. “That is… if you don’t mind?”
“Wait, you’re the navigator?” The queen balks, looking between Minami, the dwarves, the elves in attendance. At last, he settles on the king. “Vitya, we can’t just let the human go with them!”
The king stares, mouth parted even before proper words have surfaced to his lips. “Let him stay here…?” he says, distant, as though the queen’s thoughts have been miraculously communicated to him. “Darling, you know how I loathe to take in strangers at a time such as this. And we cannot just adopt him—“
“It’s throwing him to the wolves if we don’t.” The queen grips the other’s forearm, ardent. “He will never stand a chance if a war does indeed break out. He’s clawless, toothless, soft and malleable, a child to his own kind, let alone ours—“
“Hey!” Minami protests. “I’ll have you know I’m newly seventeen!”
If possible, the queen merely appears more alarmed at this. “An infant. A creature with no defense whatsoever—only wit, and even then, we know how limited it can be—and you wish to send him off with your blessing into a potential battlefield?"
The king flinches at this: at the sting of it, the accusation in his tone. The fight drains visibly from his face. “But my love…” There is no retort.
The queen’s expression softens. “He’s kind. And noble. And surprisingly clever, underneath the surface. I only read him briefly, but I know there’s nothing deeper. He’s remarkably simple, in that regard.”
Minami is not sure whether to be insulted or not.
(Upon the basis that his character is being defended, he elects to graciously allow it.)
King Victor holds a finger to his mouth. “I do like the idea of having collateral.”
“Collateral?” Minami squeaks.
The look the king casts him has ice shooting down his veins. “Yes, of course. We are trusting the dwarves with our elves. Why, then, should the dwarves not trust us with their human?”
“I—I don’t belong to them. I’m not a dog—“
“Certainly not.” The king tilts his head, lips pulled taut. “Dogs are far more astute, knowing when and where their input is not needed.”
Minami’s mouth clamps shut.
The queen only sighs at this, nuzzling his head against the king’s shoulder. “He can stay then?”
“Mm... if he behaves.”
“Fine, fine. We’re losing daylight.” Leo goes to retrieve Minami’s maps from where he stowed them. “We’ll pick him up on the way back.”
“But Leo—!”
The dwarf mounts his pony, sliding his feet into the stirrups. “Enjoy your vacation, human.” He taps the mare’s side with a boot, and they’re off as a collective: dwarves and elves alike. The veil of Woodland is lifted, then settles over them all once again.
And Minami is left in the thick of it.
He drops to his knees, hardly registering the brief flash of pain. “My maps…"
Footsteps approach, then a warm hand is pressed to the center of his back. “Come now, we’ll show you to your room.”
Minami stands, numbly. The queen goes in before him, but the king lingers, glacial eyes tracking his every move. “He, um…” Minami says, to fill the lull until he can feel his legs again. “He has a good heart.”
The king softens, minutely. “He does.”
“It’s nice how much he cares about that other Yuri.”
King Victor throws his head: to where the queen has disappeared back inside the castle. “Of course he would care about Yuri.” He goes to follow, white-blonde hair trailing him like mist. “He is our son, after all.”
All at once, Minami can feel everything.
He trips over his own feet after his hosts.
“Wait, what?”