BORN HUNGRY.

— LORD ZHAO JIYU; NAVAL COMMANDER

“we will find you a cure.” his tone becomes louder, more manic. his eyes communicated what he dared not speak: the desire to enact violence, to maim someone. to kill. “and then, we will watch them burn, together.”

the days have been passing him by.

“why do you ask? why were you even at the ceremony?” she questions before turning to face jiyu. “were you there too? was i the only one who decided not to go?”

“the new yi is pretty. might be worth giving her a shot.” jiyu says this idly, cutting into sarang’s anti-yi tirade, mostly to rile her up. reaches for his drink while he’s at it, and plays one of his cards - if he’s been counting properly he’s in a comfortable lead, set to win in a round or two. he might draw it out, though. let hyungjun and sarang get a scent of hope. “sarang, stop peeking. junnie’s got no chance of winning this hand anyway.”

he grins, nudges sarang’s elbow when she turns on him, and lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “of course i wasn’t. it’s not me the prince might make eyes at.” but the news had been relayed to him even so. “can you imagine? me, vying for his hand? really, sarang, keran would skin me alive.”

watching the other eat, his glossy lips curl into a gentle smile. “you’re right about that,” he agrees, his tone less enthusiastic as it had been only a moment ago. it’s during times like these when haneul remembers just how well they used to know each other. even though they still do, there’s no denying it’s still so very different. sighing, haneul looks at the time. he doesn’t have much longer before he needs to prepare for his performance. “i should have gone about five minutes ago, actually.”

jiyu could ask haneul whether none of the other artists popular in the nation inspire him, but that’d be rubbing salt into a never-closing wound. “why, haneul, sometimes it’s good to have fun. and to scope out the competition.” the last part is said indulgently, because it’s not like there’s anyone out there who could truly compete. but jiyu’s always been of the opinion that it’s good to know the playing field, and that haneul, too, should go out and enjoy himself.

"i wish i could tell you that i was brave, commander, but in my journey there all i did was run." even now, in the light of the day, her hands tremble as she remembers, so she places them over her lap, looking down. "from things i wanted and things i feared." she looks at him again, expression even. "what story do you have to tell, jiyu?"

there’s a certain amount of calm to this, jiyu finds. setting pieces slowly, deliberately. drawing out a victory or a loss just for the pleasure of it. jiyu had learnt how to set his pieces as a child at his uncle’s knee, but he’d learnt how to play on his first stint at sea. the man who’d taught him had won every time until he’d left the service. jiyu still finds him in his opening moves; he sets another tile down on the board and is reminded of the rocking of a ship beneath him and the screaming of seabirds near the coast.

“of course he is.” he wishes he was telling the truth, because they’d all be better off for it. jian seems unstable of late, perhaps plagued by nightmares or demons he won’t speak of. or would speak of - if his little brother wasn’t nearing the end of his rope. there’s been a shadow cast over the zhao estate, and jiyu thinks it might never lift. all the more reason to get keran out of the nest. “your concern is appreciated nonetheless. i’ll pass on your kind words, and would like to extend the same to your own family.”

bravery is for soldiers, a currency spent by every man on the battlefield, so the rest of the nation may rest easy and unconcerned. jiyu can’t fault nara for a lack of it, even if he’s well aware that there’s a certain amount required for life at court as well. in his own experience they’re uncomparable. “sometimes a strategic retreat is the best course of action one might employ. there’s no sense in giving your life for nothing.” he smiles at her, extends the excuse. nara isn’t giving him much, but it’s a start.

royal palace, 7th month of the year; ft. suho @sunstill

jiyu hasn’t once been nervous around suho. despite the temper, the power, suho’s high opinion of himself and jiyu’s unwillingness to indulge him every single time. he hadn’t been nervous when he’d told the crown prince no when they’d been playing as toddlers, perhaps because he’d been too young to do so. now, they’re too close for it. suho knows him too well, and jiyu trusts him too much; there’s no reason to feel anxious around a man who has been taking him as he is for more than two decades.

so suho isn’t the reason that jiyu’s stomach has tied itself up in knots, it’s the fact that he has to ask for help at all. unfamiliar territory, and he doesn’t know how to navigate it, not when the demand is this huge and consuming. he’d spent most of the night awake, thinking it over. then he’d done much of the same in the morning - and then, when he couldn’t stand his own inaction any longer, he’d dressed and made his way over to the palace, and had promptly been told that the prince was indisposed, but would he like to wait in his quarters?

suho enters after an hour spent twiddling his thumbs, looking similarly tired but not in awful spirits. jiyu swallows dry and gets up from his spot to bow, the sort of formality he rarely shows suho in private and behind closed doors.

suho sat back on his side of the bed. for a moment, he looked out of the window. he hoped to see dusk circling the sky, and he wondered how long until dawn. "stay, stay. your prince commands it. now, tell me," suho turned to jiyu and gazed at him with the curiosity of a child, "have you been reading these days? are there any books that have caught your interest?"

teeth at his throat, behind his ear. jiyu let suho have his fill, didn’t tip his head back down until the other man moved off him. “that almost sounds like you want another round.” and maybe they’d get it, later, but for now jiyu just put the cigarette between his lips, gave it back to suho after he’d had his pull to get the brandy after all.

"i'm glad to see you back," he says. he only just manages to bite back the words 'and well', aware that most who returned from the spirit world came back worse for wear. but in the weeks that the zhao brothers were trapped in the spirit world, every passing day without their return felt like another step closer to an irreversible outcome. he ignores the pang that comes with the unbidden reminder that his mother sohee still has yet to return home. "keran had been worried about you."

that’s one way to put it, chanyul says, and jiyu isn’t unkind enough to point out that it’s the truth of the matter. opposite him is the ruler of crescent island, third in line for the throne, prince chanyul who needs a spouse; these are undeniable facts. jiyu’s own thoughts on the matter are hardly worth consideration. and he’d ask, were it anyone else he’s speaking too, how he intends to go about it - the ceremony to it, the process, the criteria he intends to use. but jiyu’s not eager to unearth family history. the place at chanyul’s side would’ve been keran’s, years ago. deep down jiyu thinks that, despite her shortcoming, it should still belong to her. he could never put this into words.

“i’m glad to be back.” he thinks of the jungle, of footsteps in the mud. the weight of lady yerim on his back, the slow trek, a never-ending walk through wilderness. he remembers feeling tired and trying not to give into it. jiyu’s kept awake for more hours than he knows he should push himself; it comes with the work. he’s not used to his body failing on him like that.

“keran has mentioned you stood by her side recently. if my brother hasn’t extended his appreciation”, and jiyu is sure he hasn’t, with the way jian has been talking about the yis, “let me do it in his stead, for both of us. i’m glad she wasn’t alone.” but she might be, again. if jian loses himself in his quest for vengeance, and jiyu succumbs to his illness.

suguru smiles as jiyu speaks, used to jiyu's tendency to gossiping. for someone who looks so closed off he seems to know quite a lot about other people's affairs. "we can, but for people like us survival comes first, doesn't it?" he asks. after all, being a soldier is not about enjoying life, but making sure that the kingdom survives above all else. "but let's not talk about it, you know i can't keep up with you if we start another philosophical debate." he smiles, fingertips brushing against jiyu's scalp. "instead come here and kiss me again."

there’s something to the way men look when they’re relaxed in jiyu’s sheets. and there’s something even more special about this particular man - ito suguru, who commands respect in the rooms he enters, letting his guard down. ito suguru, with his head on jiyu’s pillow, with his fingers tangled up in jiyu’s hair. smiling, as if he doesn’t realise he’s doing it. jiyu thinks he could probably get drunk on the sight alone.

“i would never want to undervalue your work.” he smiles; his fingers dip beneath the collar of suguru’s shirt, trace the outline of his shoulder. “i’m sure you do well as the princess’ lapdog.” to take the bite of out his words he leans in to press a kiss to suguru’s collarbone, dips back up in time to catch the expression on his face. he’s teasing, and suguru knows him well enough to know this, but his words are treason - he’d rather not feel the consequences of a wounded ego. “but i will freely admit it, i miss the way you looked at sea. and think of the fun we could have in my cabin.”

he hums in agreement when suguru speaks of survival, since this is the objective truth of men in their position. he’s long been glad they share this value, that suguru and him rarely disagree. it makes it easy to like him more than jiyu thinks he probably should. “no, alright. no talk of death.”

reports of abundant goldfield harvests are similarly plentiful, yet none of her test orders of exotic fruits had arrived — not to her nor any of her agents — despite internal assurances that production was on par with past years’. a series of unfortunate coincidences or a consorted mercantile effort? not wanting to make any false accuse herself, yunxia takes the chance to finally show some deference. “has commander had any figs in recent times? the trade of regular commodities remains undisturbed, yet that of luxury goods near absent despite the good news from weeks prior. this humbled one seeks your guidance and advice.”

“yunxia”, jiyu says when she picks up the teapot again, “don’t you think, if i wanted you dead, there would be other ways for me to go about it? put the pot down. you’ve seen hundreds just like this before.” what she’s doing is rude, and jiyu’s unwilling to indulge her. whether it’s a curiosity over the construction or an attempt to show jiyu that she’s looking for poison, she’s not a child anymore; jiyu won’t treat her as one.

and, quite frankly, what jiyu makes of house seok is none of her business. “i believe that house seok is a valuable asset to our nation, and that we’d do well show his lordship the respect he is owed.” which are a lot of words to convey utter neutrality. jiyu’s good at politicking, even if he doesn’t often do it behind closed doors. “and, as i’m sure you’re aware, many of its members are personal friends to house zhao. i’ve not been given reasons to question this relationship.”

if she can read between the lines, she’ll understand that he’s telling her to say her piece, but to do it carefully. in matters of this, discretion is key. jiyu might be prone to indulging in mindless gossip, but never the sort that might cause wars or end friendships; he knows better than to push his luck.

sarang takes a steady breath, then one more. but once she turns her gaze to her best friend, she can only weep. it’s not a pretty cry by any means, it’s utterly desperate with wails and hiccups distorting her voice in ways she never know was possible. still, she tries to speak inbetween her own wailing: “i - i thought you were dead.”

this kind of quiet is an unknown between them. jiyu’s used to coexisting with sarang, each doing their own work, together - he’s not used to the silence that comes with a myriad of feelings, not spoken aloud. so he tries to clear his throat, to speak, and finds that he’s choked up, too, seeing her like this. bowing, clearly to overplay her emotions. face scrunched up almost like she’s going to cry.

and then she does, and jiyu opens his arms right away, pulls her into his chest so he can hide her tears. “sarang–”, and his own breath catches, more because of her outburst than his own emotionality. her hair, when he drops his face into it, smells pleasantly like flowers. “sarang, i’m still here. it’s fine, we’re fine.”

did she cry this way when they were gone? or is it relief that has her feeling this strongly? is she going to stand there, at his funeral, and choke up like this? he finds he doesn’t want an answer to any of these questions, and so he doesn’t ask them, but the thought is on his mind.

"Do you not agree, my lord?" Geonwoo continues his glance up at Jiyu with a furrow lacing across his brow. His gaze drips with scrutiny, tone telling of a man genuinely befuddled by the other's offense to his actions.

“your commanding officer’s standards”, jiyu counters, tone set, “surely don’t include punishment administered outside the chain of command, and outside a court of law.” how often had he wanted to punish someone he’d beheld as inferior, and reported the matter instead? jiyu can’t even begin to count. and yet he’s never stepped out of line like this, lowering himself to brawling in the streets for scraps of justice nobody will admire him for. geonwoo isn’t setting an example - he’s showing himself to be a man who craves violence.

“i agree that dissendents must be brought to justice. but it is not the letter of the law, lord, that justice be administered right after the offense, at anyone’s discretion. this should be reported and brought to his command, who is better equipped to decide on the appropriate measures.” who might, in fact, know of previous problematic behaviour, and thus choose punishment more extreme than geonwoo’s. not in violence, clearly, for this doesn’t seem like something anyone should lose a head over, but in consequence - a smeared reputation can weigh much heavier on a man’s mind than a broken bone.

no, jian didn’t need to be asked how he was doing. it was not something he was known to offer on his own accord. still, when shown even the slightest bit of interest by his brother, he allows himself to smile, and to speak freely, even for just a few moments.

“no problem.” there is a pause there, while jiyu chews on his piece of mangosteen, before he goes on talking. “you see, i have clearance. so you need not worry, you may speak freely.” of course, what jian meant to communicate was that he wanted jiyu to keep his nose out of it. but he’d never let him take a win that easy, and jiyu doesn’t like the idea of jian trying to shut him up all that much. if he wants to be seen as an equal to him, as a brother, he’ll have to act like one. especially if it’s about family matters.

mango, next. because he’s eating with his hands he has to lick sticky juice off his fingers afterwards. there are benefits to staying home - being able to act uncivilized is one of them. “i don’t need to go perusing our cellars to know. if they weren’t well-stocked we’d need to find new staff to manage the household. surely that wouldn’t happen under your rule.”

and here it is: jiyu doesn’t trust jian as a man, wouldn’t tell him about his own struggles, but he does trust him to have the zhao’s affairs under careful control. to keep running the estate in a way fit for their name, without letting it fall to pieces around them. even with their personal disagreeements, jian has some positive qualities he couldn’t deny without making a fool of himself. not that jiyu would ever say this aloud.

he scoffs when jian speaks of crumb, but he doesn’t argue. tips the content of his glass down his throat instead to distract himself; any snide comment might devolve into fighting, and that’s not what he came here for. zhaos are way too good of that, tempers that burn bright if you know how to light them.

haneul watches as jiyu devours one of the pastries but doesn't take one for himself. it would be bad for his figure, he decides. "alright, i'll keep that in mind. any requests for what you'd like to eat?"

crisis averted. there’s that self-satisfied smile on haneul’s face that jiyu’s been missing - whenever he brings up hwang yeri he tends to get withdrawn, quiet in ways jiyu doesn’t like because they’re so unlike the man he knows. distracted by different topics and haneul’s area of expertise, and suddenly the world’s not looking nearly as bleak anymore. jiyu’s had years to master this art of distraction.

“you gotta give everyone else a chance. or what will you listen to in your free time?” jiyu smiles back, a little less bright. this feels comfortable now. an exchange they might’ve had hundreds of times before, often in this very spot; haneul bragging, jiyu a little more fond of him than he maybe should be. of course, their meeting today is overshadowed by their responsibilities, but it’s still nice to fall back into old patterns.

“the raven eagles bear no news although the mongoose lizards have updates of their own, entering a state of frenzy at the ports.” as for the final destination of such contraband substances, her network failed to ascertain, being far too removed from the depths of the black market. “the state of unrest has settled, though the caravans remain hesitant to resume their routes even as the ships remain eager to do so with ever increasing frequency.”

sometimes, when yunxia acts as though she has power in this room, jiyu thinks about reminding her of the facts: she is a vassal of house zhao, and as such owes them loyalty and her knowledge. he’s being courteous, in allowing her to run freely and not sitting down with his brother to talk about her future. it’s because he appreciates her information that she’s been indulged, but there’s always other sources. other songbirds that will sing lovely tunes for money or other motivations, other people looking to make nice with their liege.

but if he were to threaten her she’d be less likely to share so freely, so jiyu ignores any attempts at testing his limits entirely. it’s the best way to deal with it, he’s learnt, and he’s a man with experience - there’s always someone in the ranks looking to make you look stupid when you’re at the top. jiyu’s gotten very good at not letting it get to him and instead drinks his tea calmly, giving her the sort of questioning look his mother used to level at him when he’d mess up as a child. yunxia, so careful to inspect the teapot, but not having a look at the cup. her throat must be burning with the heat of the water.