Thread by @meekswrites

#sakuatsu #SakuAtsuWeek2021
Viking-esque AU (??)
Day 4: royalty, touch

Kiyoomi looks at the twin kings from the barbarian lands of the East and West, and it takes all his years of practice to school his expression.

+

One looks right at him with an almost lazy gaze, but there’s a glint in his eyes that is irrefutably appraising. The other looks past him with a smirk, eyeing Kiyoomi’s father’s fully adorned knights with a taunt in his eyes. +

On Kiyoomi’s shoulder, his father’s hand is broad and his grip tight as he holds Kiyoomi in place—a weight, a burden. As if he would run, as if he had anywhere else to go. “Your bride,” his father says. “Kiyoomi of the Sakusa royal line. Whichever of you would have him.” +

Kiyoomi swallows as if he could bury his shame.

The smirking barbarian king steps forward, his expression flattening. “He’s mine.”

As the king approaches, his features fully take shape, the hard angle of his jaw tightening with every step, +

the naked skin of his torso in full view beneath a cape of furs, black lined with white.

There are three streaks painted across his exposed abdomen down to his thick upper thigh below his loincloth, dark claw marks in faded red like mud—or blood. +

This is the King of the East, then. Called the Jackals, their people are known for their brutality, which shows in the smooth way the king stalks forward like a wild beast, predatory and keen.

Kiyoomi can’t suppress a shudder as he draws his overcoat tightly around himself. +

His father’s grip digs into his shoulder to still him. “With your acceptance of his hand, we agree to peace between our people.”

“We’ll play nice,” the Jackal king says. He holds his hand out, his broad palm lined with dirt, his brown eyes glinting in the hot sun overhead. +

Kiyoomi takes a step back.

His father shoves him forward in response. It’s hard enough to cause Kiyoomi to trip. He’s caught and steadied by a firm grip on his upper arm. When he straightens, he’s surprised to find that the King of the East is a tad shorter than him. +

The eyes that meet his are warm, but when they cut past him over his shoulder, they harden behind another smirk. “You may leave,” he says.

Kiyoomi pulls roughly away in time to watch every one of his knights turn their backs on him, his father the first among them to walk away.+

Chests of his meager things are left behind like flotsam after a shipwreck.

He should feel fear, he thinks. He should want to run toward them, but his boots stay rooted to the ground, his hands clenched into fists. +

The sun beats down on him, sweat prickling his skin beneath the heavy layers of his royal attire in this midday heat.

It’s quiet until his people crest the hill and disappear behind it toward where their ships are moored.

And then the king speaks again. +

“You’re welcome,” he says, his accented tone light and lilting playfully.

Kiyoomi whirls around to stare. “Pardon?”

The king’s expression lands on the most smug smirk yet. “You can call me Atsumu. Or ‘savior.’ Or ‘hero.’ I don’t mind. Your pick.”

“And if I call you ‘brute’?” +

A sharp laugh from the other twin cuts off as Atsumu darts a sharp look back. When he glances around again, his eyes are bright. “My husband has claws, does he?” he drawls, dragging a finger down the lapel of Kiyoomi’s coat. +

“You touch me again, and I’ll slit your throat in your sleep,” Kiyoomi snaps, whipping his hand up to slap the hand away. The other lands on the hilt of his dagger at his waist. “How’s that for claws?”

That gets him a whip crack of a laugh. “I think I’m in love.” +

Straightening his shoulders, Kiyoomi buries his curiosity at the way the king’s eyes drag over him from head to toe and back up again. No one’s ever looked at him like that before in his kingdom.

He feels daring at the lack of punishment for speaking out, +

a surprisingly sharp hint of intrigue suddenly racing through his veins at testing new boundaries and being met with the heat of interest rather than derision. “Show me to my quarters.” +

“Ah, already so demanding of your new king,” Atsumu says. He raises a brow over a slow grin. “I’d heard that about ya. Prickly and too blunt for northern politics. Black sheep of your family and all that. Maybe I’ll call ya ‘princess,’ then.” +

Kiyoomi pretends he isn’t suddenly flushing with shame. He just looks past Atsumu at where the barbarian entourage and the other king stand and watch them. “Your insults and attempts to belittle me won’t phase me. I’ve heard worse.” +

It’s quiet for a beat, and when Atsumu speaks again, his voice is quiet. “I’m not insultin’ ya,” he says. His low voice has a hint of gravel. It grates in a way that isn’t unpleasant.

Kiyoomi spares him an unwitting glance, curious despite himself. +

“I’d never do that,” Atsumu goes on. “I picked ya for a reason.”

“You didn’t /pick/ me,” Kiyoomi snaps. “You are merely too simple to understand that you got the poor end of the bargain between our kingdoms.” +

Atsumu’s laugh is as rough as his low voice, like it’s coming from deeper in his chest. “Oh, princess,” he says almost fondly. “You and I are gonna have so much fun together.”

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Omg a new thread. 😂 I just arrived home from vacation and feel refreshed. So yay for a touch of writing. Happy skts week!