1Title: The price of Protection
A/N: For Red: a corrupted Alhaitham Zine! I'm both happy and not happy with this one—I feel like the story needs a few more scenes to pad out and give the idea room to breathe? Maybe a rewriting?
Summary:As the bastard son of the king, Kaveh had wanted something, anything to give him a sense of security from the politics of the nobility. Something to stop Alhaitham from worrying over him.
He should have been careful what he wished for.
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1
The throne was hard. Its stiff edges dug into Kaveh's thighs and back, as though reminding him that he shouldn't be here. That this spot was never meant to be his in the first place.
The message was mirrored in the eyes of his subjects as they knelt in front of him, their bodies trembling as they showed their deference to their new king. Part of him felt vengeful—these were the same nobles who had mocked him behind his back and plotted his demise. A bigger part of him was uneasy; this was just another sign of how wrong everything was.
Yet, nothing felt as wrong as watching Alhaitham enter the throne room and walk up the plush blue carpet toward him, a crown in his hand, his posture as stiff and solemn as ever. Once, Kaveh would have sworn his lover didn't know any colour but green, yet here he was, wearing long crimson robes. Their eyes met and Kaveh shivered. There was nothing familiar in those unreadable eyes; tinged in red, they lacked the usual warmth.
"Your majesty," Alhaitham said, his voice low as he stopped right in front of Kaveh.
I'm not, Kaveh wanted to say. The crown should be dripping in blood. His subjects didn't care for him. Yet, he could only sit in silence as Alhaitham gently placed the cold metal on his head, as a hand rested on the newly-coronated king's shoulder.
The crown was heavy, but Alhaitham's hand was heavier still.
2
"It needs work," Alhaitham said impassively as he glanced up from the document he was reading. Kaveh had studied colour theory long enough to know what feelings the forest and sea greens Alhaitham preferred to wear were supposed to invoke.
There was absolutely nothing tranquil about the infuriating man in front of him. Gritting his teeth, Kaveh tried to keep the anger from his voice. "You always say that."
"You always need it," Alhaitham countered, flipping through the pages once more. "I suggest starting with the thesis."
He should have expected this when he asked Alhaitham to review his essay. It didn't stop the anger from bursting out as Kaveh snapped, "Have you considered you're overly harsh?"
Alhaitham's brow furrowed, his lip curling with disdain. "I'm appropriately critical."
"There's nothing appropriate about you in the first place," Kaveh muttered. Immediately, he regretted it; he shouldn't have said that—it brought to mind several nighttime encounters he hadn't entirely processed yet. That he wasn't sure if he was ready to process yet. "That—I mean…"
"Yes?" Alhaitham prodded, and while his expression remained as irritatingly calm as ever, there was something insufferably smug about his tone, about the curl of his lip, about the way he shifted his posture. It was as though he knew exactly what Kaveh was thinking.
"Just shut up," Kaveh groaned. He perched on his window, leaning against the frame as he glanced out at the servants bustling to and fro below. In a better world, he might have been down there amongst them, or further still—beyond the palace gates, a scholar in the Akademiya. In all the places that the bastard son of the king couldn't go.
But then, in a better world, he might never have met Alhaitham. Kaveh peeked at his…he didn't know what to call Alhaitham. They were closer than friends, further than lovers, a strange nexus of unknown definitions and feelings.
"You can't present it to the king like this," Alhaitham continued, finally setting down the proposal. "He'll reject it."
"You think I don't know that?" Kaveh mumbled, slipping off the windowsill and back into the room.
"So you showed it to me knowing that?"
And then, at times like this, Kaveh knew exactly how to describe their relationship: death would be far too kind to Alhaitham. If only he'd kissed the ever-patient palace doctor, Tighnari, or the stoic guard with far too many bad jokes, Cyno.
"Do you want me to stop the wedding or not?" Kaveh snapped. He glared as he picked up the crumpled paper from the table, a proclamation from the king. It was a good thing they were in his private quarters, where no one could hear him let off a round of expletives towards his father. "I can't believe the bastard wants to marry me off now. I thought he'd forgotten I existed."
"You've been making just enough waves that you came back on his radar," Alhaitham replied passively, his arms crossed. As the king's advisor, no doubt he'd heard about the upcoming nuptials long before the letter had reached Kaveh's chambers. "It's an easy way to prevent a war."
This indifference was what made it nearly impossible to love the bastard. Kaveh flopped onto the couch, glaring out with one eye at Alhaitham. "So you want me to marry, too?"
"I didn't say that," Alhaitham replied. "I'm still convincing his majesty otherwise."
Despite his cold expression, Kaveh noted the tight jaw, the clenched hands. The subtle body language that made him flip-flop right back into adoring the frigid man. "If I can just get this proposal right, he won't marry me off. I'd be more valuable here than there."
"You are more valuable here," Alhaitham corrected, an odd, plaintive note in his tone.
"Not if he doesn't know it." Kaveh groaned as he pushed himself back up into a seated position. He noted the tea set on side table and poured himself a cup. At least it hadn't grown cold yet. Taking a sip, he asked, "Do you know where?"
Alhaitham looked away. "The Khaenri'ahan princess is looking for a partner."
So the enemy nation itself. How had his father even managed to arrange a match? The tensions between their two kingdoms were high enough as it was. "I can't believe they accepted that—"
A burning sensation filled him, something rushing up his throat, and Kaveh dropped his cup as he coughed. The ceramic shattered at his feet, shards lodging into his skin, but he couldn't notice that over the blood on his hands.
"Kaveh?" Alhaitham shouted, rushing forward.
"Oh," Kaveh murmured, looking up from his bloody fingers. "That's bad."
The last thing he saw was Alhaitham's panicked face as he collapsed.
3
And then there was darkness.
4
Kaveh was cold. Very cold. It was too much effort to move, too much effort to open his eyes—his body felt so heavy that even thinking felt like pushing a boulder. His chest ached, a deep throbbing pain that reminded him he was alive. It was so dark. His fingers and toes were numb and he couldn't tell if he was wiggling them or not. Maybe he was dying slowly.
Why was he dying?
He'd been so careful. Standing out just enough, talking to the right people. And now here he was.
His eyes finally cracked open. Kaveh's sight was hazy, covered in a white fog, but he could see through it just enough to make out Alhaitham kneeling in front of him. The usually-calm man moved frantically as he bit his thumb and smeared his blood on the floor.
Kaveh blinked. Now Alhaitham muttered something as he stood beside him. Another blink and a red glow surrounded them both.
A last blink and the pain disappeared. Alhaitham's hands cupped his cheek, trembling lips meeting his own, and then Kaveh's eyes slid shut once more.
5
Kaveh was warm. Very warm. The second thing his foggy mind registered was that he was lying on something soft. The spicy scent of cloves filled the air and his nose twitched.
He was alive.
Kaveh gasped as he woke up with a start. A familiar ceiling greeted him; this was his bedroom. His bed. His soft mattress and warm blankets.
"You're awake."
The calm statement didn't match the trembling hand clutching his. Blearily, Kaveh turned to find Alhaitham sitting next to his bed, his expression unreadable. It can't have been more than a few hours, days at most, yet Alhaitham looked like he'd aged a decade.
"I'm alive," Kaveh muttered. Sensation slowly filled his body—his toes, his lips, his chest. His hands, warm and secure in Alhaitham's tight grip.
"You are," Alhaitham agreed. He didn't let go.
"I'm alive," Kaveh repeated, louder now as the realization finally made it through his tired mind. He struggled to sit up but his body refused to listen.
"Careful," Alhaitham warned, gently pushing him back into the bed.
"What happened—how—" Remembering the red glow, Kaveh turned over and stared at Alhaitham. "What did you do?"
There was a long silence before Alhaitham uttered, "…a healing spell."
It was obvious he was lying; that didn't match any healing spell Kaveh had ever heard of. They usually had a more blue-green aura, a soft colour that reminded him too much of Alhaitham. The blood red colour had felt more like a warning, a threat, and even now he feared it. "What spell?"
"It's nothing you wouldn't have done," Alhaitham said. For a brief second, Kaveh could have sworn he'd seen red in his eyes.
The evasion bothered him. Kaveh gripped Alhaitham's hand tighter. "What spell?"
"A rare spell. I can't use it twice." Alhaitham clasped his hands, his voice low and rough from lack of sleep. "This can't happen again."
"It's not like I wanted to get poisoned," Kaveh mumbled, closing his eyes. It wasn't his first assassination survival, but definitely the closest. "It was in the tea—you didn't drink any?"
"Fortunately."
Kaveh rubbed his throat. He could still feel the burning. Every other attempt had been more of a warning than an actual threat and he didn't want to know how close he had been to going over the edge. "Who—why now?"
"The wedding," Alhaitham said. "It could shake up the line of succession."
"How?" Kaveh snorted. "Even if it went through, I'd be out of the country."
"The war would end, and your brother would lose favour to your sister," Alhaitham explained flatly.
"It's not like I even want the damned wedding." Kaveh sank into his pillow. "And who's hoping Scaramouche gets the crown? Candace would be a far better ruler than that sociopath." He sighed. "Maybe I should just run away."
Alhaitham stiffened. "Will you?"
They could disappear together, the two of them absconding to some small town. A place where no one knew either of them. It was a fun thought for all of five seconds. Maybe before, they could have vanished without anyone batting an eye. But now…with all that was at stake, his father wouldn't let him go. "…I doubt I could as long as this alliance is on the table."
Though Alhaitham didn't say anything in return, his grip tightened once more.
6
Kaveh was many things: the king's bastard, the lowest ranking royal in the palace, an artist that was limited by the strappings of his position and power. What he wasn't, though, was a quitter. If the poisoning had taught him anything, it was that he'd have to make sure he stopped his wedding at all costs.
And maybe, after everything had calmed down, then he could run away and elope.
"Edits are done," Kaveh announced as he marched into Alhaitham's quarters. He dropped the heavy stack of papers on his desk. "Everything's been fixed."
Alhaitham set down a small vial into his drawer. Kaveh caught a glimpse of the red liquid before the drawer closed. "Everything?"
"Even the ridiculous changes you asked for," Kaveh confirmed, scowling. "Like anyone but you cares about the font. I bet that bastard doesn't even read these."
Alhaitham flipped through the stack, his eyes narrowing as he studied the document. "It's better. And the king does read each proposal."
"It's great," Kaveh corrected. "And if I wait any longer, Candace will get the project."
There were few quicker ways to gain power than through public works and accomplishments. Scaramouche had done this through battle, Candace through her community works, and if Kaveh wanted to be half as valuable as either of his siblings, he'd have to show that his skills in construction and urban planning had merit, that his ideas would be able to change the kingdom.
"She won't," Alhaitham said, a red pen in his hand as he started to circle paragraphs.
Kaveh raised a brow at the complete certainty in his voice. "What are you, a prophet?"
"No." Alhaitham tapped the paper. "But I do foresee a few changes."
7
In the end, all of his worries were for nothing. Kaveh glared at Alhaitham as they walked through the halls. "You knew Candace was sick."
"I didn't know," Alhaitham corrected, unflappable as always, "I suspected."
"You knew!" Kaveh repeated through gritted teeth. He jabbed the no-good traitor's side. "I didn't need any of those edits! He was going to choose me anyway."
Alhaitham caught his hand. His touch felt cold. "All of those edits are what made him select you instead of Scaramouche."
"Like that warmonger had a single decent proposal," Kaveh sneered. He leaned back, eyeing the back of Alhaitham's robes. The usual green fabric had streaks of red in it. "And since when did you wear anything other than green?"
Alhaitham let him go. "You complained about me wearing the same thing every day."
"For years! Since when did you listen?" Kaveh squinted suspiciously at Alhaitham. Could he have caught whatever Candace had? The flu was the only plausible reason for such a major change. He didn't even think Alhaitham owned anything that wasn't green.
"You haven't selected your contractors yet," Alhaitham said, side-stepping the argument entirely.
Kaveh jabbed him one last time. "No, I didn't think I would get approved this quickly. I'll have to open up a bidding competition."
"No need." Alhaitham gave a rare smile. It didn't reach his eyes. "I'll introduce you to someone."
8
"So…this is who you were talking about," a short, pink-haired girl said, puffing a pipe as she spoke. She exhaled softly in Kaveh's face, the smoke blinding him, and laughed. "He'll do."
"What do you mean I'll do?" Kaveh coughed, swatting her pipe away before she could do any real damage. His hackles rose as he glared at Alhaitham. It had been bad enough they were in some seedy tavern without having to deal with an annoying brat on top of it. "Who is this kid?"
The girl clicked her teeth as she signaled for the bartender for a drink. "He's got a bit of a temper, though."
"It's manageable," Alhaitham replied, leaning back into his seat.
Grumpy over being ignored, Kaveh glowered. "Who is this kid?"
"Kid," she snorted. She leaned forward, tapping her pipe on the edge of Kaveh's nose. "I'm older than you, baby."
Red flared in Alhaitham's eyes once more, disappearing as quickly as it came, and Kaveh couldn't tell if it was the smoke that was making him hallucinate. This was precisely why he never came to such establishments.
"This is Dori, a merchant," Alhaitham explained, pushing the pipe away. "She has the funds to sponsor your buildings and the connections to find contractors."
"A merchant?" Kaveh rubbed his nose, glaring at the woman. If Alhaitham said it, it must be true. Yet…there was something slimy about this woman, something about the glint in her eyes and the curve of her lips that he inherently didn't trust. "It's not…illegal, is it?"
Dori scrunched her nose as she reached up to take her drink from the passing waitress. "My business is perfectly legal."
That sounded even more illegal. Kaveh turned to Alhaitham, brow raised. "Really?"
"This will work," Alhaitham said, taking his hand and squeezing it under the table. That red glint was back in his eyes. "Trust me."
And he did trust Alhaitham, always had trusted him, but somehow, Kaveh heard a warning bell go off.
9
Kaveh had always wanted to be part of the royal council. Even a chance would have meant he had been finally recognized for his merits, that his father had finally seen him as more than the accidental child of a lustful night. He'd just never expected to join it like this, in place of his ill father and sister.
"Looks like I'll have to lead again," Faruzan, one of the senior palace advisors, said as she stood at the head of the table. With a cattish grin, she picked up a piece of paper. "It's hard for an old lady like me, but I'll carry out my duties."
Kaveh resisted the urge to snort. He'd met Faruzan plenty of times outside of these chambers and despite her "age", she still appeared even younger than he did. If there was a magical reason for this, she hadn't shared it.
"How long will the king be out?" another advisor asked.
"That…" Her smile dropped as she contemplated the question. "We don't know yet."
A hush fell over the room. Kaveh pursed his lips. Not only was Candace sick, his father had succumbed to the same illness as well. No one knew what it was or how to cure it, only that it wasn't contagious since no one else had caught it.
It was strange. His sister had always been as healthy as a horse.
"I have a report to give," Alhaitham said, standing up as he spoke. He didn't wait for a response before tacking on, "There's a rebellion in the works."
That stopped everyone with a collective hush.
"What?" Faruzan gaped.
Kaveh could only stare. Alhaitham hadn't mentioned this even once in the past few weeks.
"With the peace treaty in danger, some see this as an opportunity for sabotage," Alhaitham continued. It was strange watching him from the other side of the room. From here, Kaveh could make out more reds than greens in Alhaitham's clothing, and for some reason it disturbed him. "I have documented the evidence if you will look at the papers I provided today."
Faruzan glanced down at the sheets in front of her before croaking, "Wait, what? Is this true?"
Kaveh's blood froze as he read the paper.
"Positive," Alhaitham replied, "and I have several witnesses that will confirm Scaramouche is behind it."
10
Kaveh was not a fool. It was impossible to be one and survive living in the palace.
Yet Alhaitham was playing him for one.
Barging into Alhaitham's quarters, Kaveh snarled, "You didn't say a word."
Alhaitham looked up from the report in his hands, his expression passive, his posture relaxed. His clothes were almost entirely red now, only a streak of green remaining, and that only made Kaveh angrier. "I didn't want to risk the investigation."
That was the wrong thing to say. "Don't lie. I know when you're lying, don't lie to me."
"I'm not lying." Alhaitham put down the report and approached Kaveh, his hand outstretched. "I couldn't risk anything going wrong."
Kaveh slapped away his hand. "You could have at least told me before the meeting." His eyes narrowed. "You're hiding something from me."
Alhaitham shook his head, a bold liar. "I'm not."
"You are!" He should have noticed before. Reaching forward, he grabbed Alhaitham's red robes, as though seeing them for the first time. Just when had this started? The colour was identical to that eerie red glow, all those weeks ago when Alhaitham had saved his life.
Alhaitham hadn't been the same since.
His family hadn't been the same since—Candace's illness had started shortly after.
"She didn't get ill," Kaveh murmured softly. Was it magic? Poison—suddenly, he remembered a glimpse of a red vial, of Alhaitham sliding the drawer shut, of Alhaitham's confidence when he stated that Candace wouldn't receive the project.
A heavy sense of dread filled him and he grabbed Alhaitham's shoulders. "You…you didn't. You couldn't."
Alhaitham remained silent. It was practically a confession.
Kaveh let go, stepping back, the pieces all falling into place. "…you poisoned them."
Alhaitham stepped closer. "You almost died."
"As blood thirsty as Scaramouche is, he'd never start a war like this." Kaveh whispered, taking a step back. "You made that all up."
Alhaitham took another step forward. "They were going to send you away."
"What else did you do?" Kaveh breathed, his back hitting the wall.
Boxing him in, Alhaitham gently cradled Kaveh's cheeks. The red in his eyes flared now, too bright and constant to be mistaken for a mirage. "There's only one way to protect you."
His touch was cold as ice and Kaveh shuddered. "What was that spell?"
Alhaitham leaned forward, his lips brushing the shell of Kaveh's ear. "Are you sure you want to know?"
11
As Alhaitham whispered the spell in his ear, Kaveh closed his eyes. He'd been right: knowing it changed nothing.
There were no do-overs in life.
12
"You'll be safe now," Alhaitham said that night, reverently, as though praying, as though performing a ritual. His teeth marked Kaveh's skin as though to embed the spell in his flesh and blood. "No one will hurt you."
You're hurting me. But his voice refused to work and he shuddered as Alhaitham's warm breath ghosted his nape.
Alhaitham pressed a kiss on his neck, his lips, his forehead. Even in the dark, his red eyes were impossible to miss. "I love you."
And they were the words Kaveh had wanted to hear but not like this.
13
"Long live the king," Alhaitham said as he placed the crown on Kaveh's head. Unfamiliar words in an unfamiliar tone; nothing about the man in front of him reminded him of the man he'd known and cared for all these years. The red in his clothing was antithetical to his neutral greens. His usual calm expression was replaced with something colder, sharper, as though a steel facsimile had replaced the man.
"I'm no king," Kaveh murmured.
Alhaitham leaned closer, as though to adjust the crown. His finger grazed Kaveh's ear. "You were always mine."
Kaveh didn't have to look up to see the spark of red in Alhaitham's eyes, the spark of magic and madness that had led them here. Part of him wanted to laugh. He no longer had to get married. No longer had to leave Alhaitham. No longer had to worry about assassins, murderous siblings, or a cold father.
It was everything he'd ever wanted.
Only…the cost was not something he had been willing to pay.