Council Sessions
Makoto doodled something nonsensical across the papers in front of him as the councilman blathered on about crop yields and why he required a greater share of the assistance from the capital. The other councilors looked about as enthused as he felt, but they could probably go on just as long and thoroughly about their own crop yields.To his left, Daichi sat attentively watching the councilors and the rest of the room. Ryota was sitting to his right, looking as bored as Makoto felt. It probably wasn't the best image to present, but he wasn't going to call Ryota on it.
Daichi did it for him, slouching in his seat briefly to stretch his leg in front of Makoto and kick Ryota's shin—lightly, since the angle didn't allow for anything else—but Ryota sat up straight anyway, then shot Daichi an annoyed look.
Daichi really shouldn't be paying attention to Makoto's thoughts, Makoto thought, not bothering to hide his amusement as he thought it. Daichi shrugged minutely, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips, but focused on the councilor instead.
Makoto sighed, then did the same, making an actual attempt to pay attention to the crop yield numbers. If he was paying attention, after all, then Daichi would be, even if he was focusing on Makoto's thoughts. He even made some real notes, before he noticed that Daichi was fidgeting and having trouble sitting still. Daichi was usually much better about paying attention during meetings, since Makoto relied on him to know if any of the councilors were being less than truthful.
Baffled, Makoto glanced at Ryota, and hastily smothered a laugh at the mischievous look on his face. Ryota was messing with Daichi, and to judge by the way Daichi was squirming and the flush that was slowly creeping up Daichi's neck, Ryota wasn't thinking about anything that should be thought in a council room.
Daichi bit his lip, shifting to lean forward in his seat, and glanced over at Makoto entreatingly. Makoto just smiled back serenely, and settled back in his seat. He couldn't call a break until the current councilor was done, not without drawing more suspicion about his relationship with the twins (and all of his councilors were at least curious, if not speculative).
Daichi sighed, quietly, but sounding aggrieved nonetheless. Makoto focused on keeping a straight face, then started slowly replaying the way Daichi had woken him this morning. Daichi's jaw clenched, and Makoto nearly started laughing, but then Daichi grabbed his thigh under the table, distracting him. Ryota glanced at them, but he was much better about keeping a blank face—Makoto couldn't even tell he was thinking about anything other than crop yields based on how utterly bored he looked at the moment.
Makoto wasn't even sure how long the councilor continued to speak—or at all what he was saying—but it took him far too long to finish. When he finally stopped speaking, Makoto nearly missed it. Clearing his throat, Makoto tried to look like he'd been paying attention the entire time. "Thank you, Councilor Takahashi, that was very informative."
Makoto waited until Takahashi took his seat again before announcing a lunch break—it was a trifle early, but most of the councilors looked relieved at the announcement. The councilors dutifully shuffled out of the room, and Makoto counted himself lucky when none of them approached for a private word. Most of them were too new or too unsure of him to speak to him alone, but there were a few that tried to catch his ear when they could.
"That was mean," Daichi said, leaving his chair immediately when the last councilor shut the door behind him.
"You didn't have to pay attention to us," Makoto said, laughing when Daichi reached past him to haul Ryota out of his chair.
"I was bored," Ryota said, letting Daichi practically pull him into Makoto's lap. "Like he said, you didn't have to pay attention to us."
"Like I couldn't with what you were thinking," Daichi muttered. Then he kissed Ryota, and Makoto loved it when they kissed, even if he liked kissing them himself a great deal. Daichi broke off the kiss after a moment, and Makoto took advantage, hooking his fingers in the collar of Daichi's shirt and pulling him close. Daichi kissed like he'd been waiting for it all morning, like he hadn't been kissed in weeks, and Makoto made a note to try teasing Daichi again the next time they were stuck in a meeting.
"Don't you dare," Daichi mumbled, a little breathless as he shoved at Makoto's shoulder. Makoto just smiled, making no promises, and pulled Ryota close with his free arm, wondering whether they should adjourn to another room or simply lock the council room door.
Library Privileges
The library was rarely frequented, even now, months after Shiro’s death. Makoto wasn’t sure he minded too much – it left the library quiet and it was much easier to convince Daichi and Ryota to come with him when they were sure there would be fewer people there. Ryota liked the histories, diaries and journals of travelers who’d taken accounts of their journeys and then archived them here. Daichi, though, didn’t read.
Instead, he’d curl up next to Makoto and just sit there like he was doing currently. Makoto smothered a smile as Daichi poked his side, shifting a little so that he could look up at Makoto properly.
“Start reading.” Daichi ordered, and Makoto flipped open the book obediently even though Daichi could just as easily listen to Ryota reading on the other side of the couch.
“No, I couldn’t.” Daichi refuted immediately, making a face. “He reads boring things and then he thinks about it in the middle.”
Makoto laughed, flipping past the first few pages of introduction. It was a book of poems (one that Daichi had picked up and shoved into his hands).
“You could read on your own.” Makoto suggested mildly, and Daichi made a face.
“No. Takes too much effort and you read well.” Daichi grinned, and Ryota dropped his book to his lap, staring exasperatedly at Daichi.
“Daichi, you shouldn’t –”
“You should read out loud, so that Ryota can listen too.” Daichi decided, and Makoto almost laughed as Daichi lunged across his lap to snag Ryota’s book. Steadying Daichi with one hand so that he didn’t fall off the couch, Makoto carefully held the book of poems out of reach so that Daichi didn’t accidentally knock it out of his hand. Daichi squirmed back into his seat, barely keeping the book out of Ryota’s hands – and Ryota hesitated before subsiding (probably not wanting to repeat Daichi’s spectacular lunge across Makoto).
“Read.” Daichi ordered, setting Ryota’s book on the floor carefully. “Please.”
“Ryota?” Makoto asked, and Ryota shrugged, shifting closer on the couch. Ryota preferred the quiet and close touches where Daichi didn’t mind throwing himself bodily at Makoto.
“Read.” Ryota conceded, and Makoto made sure to not mention it as Ryota leaned close to peer at the book, or when Daichi snuggled under his arm, and simply started to read the first poem (and Daichi had so unsubtly picked out a book of love poems).
Bathing
Ryota sighed, working his fingers though the tangles in Daichi’s hair. Daichi looked absolutely miserable, huddled in the center of the large wooden tub their father had helped Ryota drag inside.
“You should’ve stayed out of it,” Ryota said quietly, picking up the soap. Daichi sniffled, but didn’t say anything. Ryota sighed again, working the lather through Daichi’s hair. “I’m not saying you did bad, Daichi.”
“I know,” Daichi mumbled. “It was stupid.”
“Dad’s proud of you,” Ryota let slip. Daichi nodded, his shoulders still tense. “Mom will be when he tells her.”
“I know,” Daichi’s shoulders started to shake, and Ryota shifted around to see the tears he knew were slipping down Daichi’s cheeks. “I should have just come home.”
“Daichi,” Ryota frowned, ducking his hand in the tub’s water to lose the soap. Wiping at Daichi’s cheek with his thumb, Ryota clenched his other hand tightly over the tub’s rim. “You did the right thing.”
“It didn’t help!” Daichi protested, meeting his eyes with an anguished look. “I just made things worse for us. You know what happened to Erain – he had magic and they took him!”
“It won’t happen,” Ryota reassured him, offering him a smile. “We can run off if they come.”
“But what about mom and dad?” Daichi whispered, the shadows not receding from his eyes.
“They can come too,” Ryota tried, but he knew it was a failing cause. Their parents wouldn’t leave the farm – and they wouldn’t leave their parents.
“I should’ve stayed out of it,” Daichi mumbled, a strangled sob shaking his shoulders. Ryota frowned uncertainly, but then stood and stripped out of his clothes.
“Shove up,” Ryota ordered, and Daichi moved slowly to make room for him in the tub. Ryota stepped into the warm water, sitting down behind Daichi and wrapping him in a hug. “It’ll be okay.”
Daichi nodded, wrapping his hands around Ryota’s wrists tightly. “I’m scared.”
“Me too,” Ryota admitted, pressing closer to Daichi. A bit of the tenseness relaxed out of Daichi, and Ryota pressed his forehead to Daichi’s shoulder. “We’ll stay together.”
“They only saw me use my magic,” Daichi protested, twisting to look at him.
“We’re identical, Daichi,” Ryota pointed out. “They’ll look at me, too.”
“Oh,” Daichi’s face crumpled. “I’m sorry.”
“You did the right thing helping Shalla,” Ryota reassured. “I would’ve done the same.”
Daichi nodded, subsiding. Ryota sighed, anxiety twisting in his stomach. Daichi had done the right thing, keeping Lord Shiro’s tax collectors from burning down the only home Shalla and her child had. Even if it had meant using his magic in front of the tax warden, and drawing attention to them.
It wasn’t worth thinking about right now. Things would work out, they had to. Determinedly switching his thoughts – Daichi didn’t need him brooding about it too – Ryota leaned over the side of the tub and snatched up the soap again. A warm bath, and he’d share his bed with Daichi tonight. Tomorrow they could face whatever came their way.
Ryota and Shiro
Not one of the three men entering the room glanced Ryota’s way. Ryota was perfectly content with that, not wanting to see the smirks of Shiro’s men or the terrified look of the young - very young, Ryota noted, his stomach twisting a little – boy they dragged between them.
Ryota focused on a point above the door. It was worse if he had to watch before (even if it wasn’t much better, being forced to watch during and after).
A hand sank into his hair, though, tugging sharply before using the grip to twist Ryota’s head down. Shiro laughed softly, leaning over the back of Ryota’s stiff wooden chair to press his cheek against the side of Ryota’s head (just above his ear).
“He’s fifteen,” Shiro said, not bothering to keep his voice down. Across the room, the boy flinched, his eyes wide and pleading as he stared at Ryota. His hands were bound tightly in front of him, and he’d been knocked to his knees by the two men who always brought Shiro his victims.
“Do you want to know what his crime was, Ryota?” Shiro asked casually, his grip still painfully tight in Ryota’s hair. Ryota shook his head minutely, shutting his eyes for a second before the image of Daichi, shackled to the power conduit in the rooms Shiro had “given” them forced him to opening them.
Shiro laughed, loudly and delightedly, releasing his grip on Ryota’s hair and straightening. “He thinks you can save him.”
Ryota smoothed his hair back down, ignoring the way his fingers didn’t even shake anymore. Ryota shifted his gaze up a little, staring at the boy’s forehead instead of meeting the half-hopeful and half-terrified look in his eyes. Fifteen was four years younger than he and Daichi were.
“Roughen him up,” Shiro ordered with a smile, gesturing briefly to the two men who had dragged the boy in. Shiro didn’t move for a moment, still standing behind Ryota’s chair.
Ryota flinched when the first blow drew a pained cry from the boy’s lips. He looked away – back to the spot above the doorway – and tried not to hear the too-familiar sound of fists hitting flesh.
“Watch,” Shiro instructed, stepping around Ryota’s seat to smile coldly at him. His dark green eyes were bright with amusement, and Ryota woodenly fixed his gaze on the beating. The boy didn’t make much noise, taking the blows as stoically as he could. His lips were pressed tightly together, but every third or fourth hit a small pained noise escaped. Ryota had seen grown men do worse.
“His name is Jirou,” Shiro said as one of his men landed a blow to the boy’s shoulder, knocking him down. They hauled him up again immediately, earning a soft whimper.
“He’s one of the kitchen helpers,” Shiro continued, his hand falling to rest on Ryota’s shoulder. “His parents sent him here to give him a better chance at finding happiness.”
Ryota didn’t acknowledge the words, tucking them away next to Kenji, the acrobat who ran away from home to perform his arts without his parents’ blessing and Akemi, the mute girl who Shiro had tried to make talk for three days before finally killing her.
“Shall we play today, Ryota?” Shiro asked, his smile lifting higher on the right side of his mouth than on the left. “Or shall I throw him back?”
“He’s small,” Ryota said quietly, knowing that Shiro already knew his thoughts on the matter. That’s what Daichi was for, after all. “He wouldn’t stand it long.”
Shiro leaned closer, his hip next to Ryota’s shoulder. He was still smiling, which meant nothing, because Shiro was always smiling. He stepped in front of Ryota’s chair, blocking the view of the two men methodically beating Jirou across the room. Reaching out, Shiro ran his fingertips along Ryota’s cheeks in a rough caress as a sharp crack and a loud cry of pain carried across the room.
“Hold,” Shiro ordered, not turning his head to see if he’d be obeyed. Ryota stared back, schooling his thoughts into blankness as well as he could. Shiro laughed again, leaning closer and cupping Ryota’s face almost gently.
“You don’t fool me, Ryota,” Shiro whispered, his eyes bright as he pressed a kiss to Ryota’s forehead. Ryota shut his eyes, shuddering softly. Shiro let go abruptly, stepping away. “Heal his rib. I think it’s interfering with his breathing.”
Ryota nodded, standing up slowly. He walked past Shiro without breathing, half expecting to be called off as he crossed the room. Jirou coughed up fresh blood, sprawled across the floor between Shiro’s men. His hands were still bound together, Ryota noted. Shiro’s men took a step backwards as Ryota reached them, giving him space to kneel down next to Jirou.
He didn’t look Jirou in the face, not wanting to see the pain or hatred or blame or whatever unhappy emotion of the week resided there. Touching his hand gently to Jirou’s chest, Ryota fed a bit of healing energy into the broken ribs and the bruised lungs beneath them.
“Enough,” Shiro spoke up before the ribs were completely healed. Ryota yanked his hand back quickly, standing up and stepping back. Now the beating would begin again, or if Shiro was bored, Jirou would be thrown back to the kitchens and forced to do his duties with the ache of the beating lingering as punishment.
“Take him back to the kitchens,” Shiro said after a long moment. Ryota sighed softly, moving back to his seat. There was no saying Jirou wouldn’t be dragged back in here again, but he’d gotten off lightly compared to some. Shiro ignored them all as Jirou was dragged out, his focus completely switched to something at his desk. Ryota slouched in his chair, wrapped his arms around himself, and worked at keeping his thoughts as quiet and inane as he could.
Sweet
Daichi smothered his laughter in the front of Makoto’s shirt, tightening his grip around Makoto’s neck and kicking his legs a few times.
“Don’t do that, I could drop you,” Makoto warned lightly, tightening his grip on Daichi and carefully turning them sideways so he could carry Daichi through the doorway.
“You should anyway,” Ryota said dryly, trailing behind them slowly.
“That is not nice,” Daichi chided, propping his head on Makoto’s shoulder to make a face at Ryota. “You just wish you’d asked.”
Ryota rolled his eyes, but didn’t deny it – he didn’t actually want to be carried (he didn’t think he was that lazy), but he wouldn’t mind being that close to Makoto.
Daichi snickered again, pressing his cheek against Makoto’s shoulder. Luckily they were at their room, otherwise Daichi would have had to get down. Makoto’s arms were already feeling the strain of his weight.
“You can drop me on the bed if you want,” Daichi suggested, giggling at what both Ryota and Makoto thought of that.
“You are not subtle,” Makoto told him with amusement, more for Ryota’s sake since Ryota couldn’t read thoughts. Makoto was always conscientious about not having one-sided conversations with Daichi when Ryota was around (which was always, so he never had one-sided conversations with Daichi).
“I don’t have to be subtle,” Daichi replied cheerfully, yelping when Makoto really did dump him on the bed. He left Daichi there though, not immediately following up on any of his ideas. Instead, he went to fetch Ryota.
Ryota was deliberately lagging behind, making a production of taking off his shoes and generally hovering by the door. Daichi propped himself up on his elbows, grinning as Makoto startled a laugh out of Ryota by pulling him into his arms and spinning him around. Makoto cut Ryota’s laughter off with a kiss, smoothly pulling him across the room towards the bed.
He let Ryota go at the edge of the bed and Ryota sat down heavily, turning to Daichi, the only coherent thought in his head to share Makoto’s kiss. Daichi grinned, tugging him close. Ryota kissed him quickly, pressing his lips to Daichi’s firmly before pulling away with another thought.
“Move,” Ryota ordered, and he meant back, actually up on the bed so there was room for Makoto in front of them.
Daichi moved, wriggling out of the vest he’d worn today (it matched the one Ryota wore; Daichi liked to dress the same and see how many people mixed them up). Makoto smiled, removing his shoes before climbing onto the bed with them.
Daichi smiled, leaning against Ryota and gesturing Makoto closer. Makoto moved without hesitation, clasping one hand with Daichi’s and hooking the other around Ryota’s bare ankle. Daichi beamed, reveling in being able to feel both Makoto and Ryota happy and not stressed or exhausted or thinking of less-than-happy things.
“What?” Ryota asked, suspicious of Daichi’s plans now that they were all in bed. Daichi shook his head, and got to work maintaining that happiness.
From Outside the Glass
Tei knocked once, loudly, before pushing into Makoto’s office. He knew Makoto didn’t have any appointments this afternoon, but he also knew Makoto had a pair of twins he kept stashed somewhere in his office at all times.
Sure enough, Daichi – the smile gave him away – was perched on top of Makoto’s desk, his feet in Makoto’s lap. Ryota was on the couch, ignoring them for a book. Tei smirked, shutting the door behind him as Daichi twisted a bit to grin at him.
“Hey, Tei,” he greeted cheerfully. Makoto nodded briefly before returning to the letter he was reading. He didn’t really seem to be aware of Daichi, except that he had one hand wrapped around Daichi’s ankle, his thumb stroking the bit of bare skin that showed between Daichi’s pant leg and his sock.
“Afternoon,” Tei replied slowly, raising an eyebrow at Daichi. Daichi blushed a little, but he was getting better about that because it wasn’t as bright red as it usually was. He stuck his tongue out at Tei, probably picking up on his thoughts.
Tei thought briefly about throwing up the thought-shield trick Arisu had perfected, just to see Daichi flinch.
“That’s not nice,” Daichi complained. Tei snickered, sitting down heavily in one of the chairs opposite Makoto’s desk.
“Shouldn’t be poking around in my head, then,” Tei replied firmly, because really, he got enough of that from Arisu.
“I’m making sure you aren’t here to try and hurt Makoto,” Daichi said earnestly, and Ryota started laughing behind Tei. Tei cracked a smile, because Daichi sounded so honest and he didn’t think he’d ever heard Ryota laugh before.
“You’re just nosy,” Ryota accused, and Daichi pouted, nudging Makoto’s leg with his toes.
“Hmm?” Makoto asked, folding the letter and tucking it back into its envelope before looking up. Daichi turned the pout on him and Makoto laughed softly, setting the letter on the desk in front of him. “Are they ganging up on you?”
“Yes,” Daichi said solemnly, and Tei couldn’t see his face, but Makoto just smiled, patting the top of Daichi’s feet.
“Poor thing,” Makoto said, not sounding too sympathetic, and Ryota started snickering again. Daichi sighed loudly, his shoulders slumping slightly.
“Not nice,” Daichi muttered, but he didn’t press it.
“What can I do for you, Tei?” Makoto asked, both his hands now discretely wrapped around Daichi’s ankles.
“Came to see if it’s alright to assign more guards to the supplies headed to the Tralet province,” Tei said, relaxing a bit. “There’s apparently been some bandit activity.”
“If you can spare them,” Makoto said, shrugging. “You’re more aware of how the guards are distributed than I am. Let me know if I need to request more people from the capital. Fuhiro won’t mind.”
“I’ll work it out and let you know,” Tei said, already shifting people in his head.
“Anything else?” Makoto asked, sounding slightly distracted. Tei smirked, standing up.
“No, that was it,” Tei replied, winking at Daichi when Makoto picked up another letter, already moving on to the next matter of business. Tei stood up, thinking hard that Daichi and Ryota should try to get Makoto out of his office to relax tonight.
Daichi just stuck out his tongue again, not acknowledging that he’d caught that thought. Tei shrugged, because it really wasn’t up to him to play nursemaid to Makoto, not with the twins around. He nodded once to Ryota on his way out, letting himself into the hallway with a smile.
Frolick
“The sun will not kill you,” Daichi said solemnly, poking him in the back. Ryota made a face but let Daichi push him through the door. The sun was bright, and he squinted against it, making a face.
“You have other things to be doing,” Ryota complained half-heartedly to Makoto, watching Daichi as he ventured further into the garden. It was huge, outside the keep’s walls, and rather overgrown.
“I’m seeing to the well-being of some of my subjects,” Makoto replied with amusement. “Besides, Mizuno said you could use a bit of recreation.”
Ryota scowled briefly – Mizuno’s words had been a lot blunter and more pointed.
“I’m fine,” Ryota protested under his breath.
“Daichi was worried,” Makoto said mildly, and Ryota rolled his eyes but followed Makoto further away from the keep.
“Daichi’s always worried,” Ryota replied, and Daichi turned around from where he was examining an overgrown berry bush.
“I heard that,” Daichi called, grinning. “Now go romp like Mizuno said, otherwise I’m telling him you just sulked the whole time.”
“I’m not sulking,” Ryota protested, crossing his arms. Makoto laughed softly, kissing him briefly on the cheek. Ryota valiantly fought a smile, because Daichi wasn’t the only worrier. Makoto would be happier taking the afternoon off too.
Daichi snickered, but turned back to his bush. The plant was in obvious need of a trim, but it was covered in tiny, bright blue flowers that were in full bloom.
“Do you have gardeners?” Daichi asked curiously. “Or is this not a real garden?”
“I have no idea,” Makoto replied absently, studying the bush critically. “You don’t like the ‘return to the wild’ look?”
“I do,” Daichi said, and then snickered. “Do it.”
“Do what?” Ryota asked suspiciously, sidling closer. Daichi beamed at him, which mean something silly – Ryota yelped when Daichi pinched his side.
“Shush. Doctor’s orders – a full dose of silly for you,” Daichi admonished, wrapping himself around Ryota.
“Right,” Ryota grumbled, annoyed that Daichi kept bringing it up. He was capable of being silly if he wanted to, without being reminded that Mizuno had dressed him down for overstressing himself. At least it had only been in front of Daichi and Makoto, though that was bad enough with the way they kept bringing it up.
Daichi snickered and pulled him closer, leaning against him as Makoto picked a few flowers from the bush.
“Be silly for Makoto. He worries, too,” Daichi whispered as Makoto turned back to them. Ryota sighed – he couldn’t refuse that, and Daichi well knew it.
“Me first,” Daichi declared, slipping away from Ryota. He held still as Makoto threaded one of the blue flowers into his hair, and Ryota couldn’t help but smile a little because it was kind of cute.
“Would you like a flower, Ryota?” Makoto asked, and Ryota sighed loudly, still smiling, but stepped forward to let Makoto give him a flower too.
