Chapter Text
Emperor Kengo’s health is declining, it has been for the past year. Slowly the Emperor is dying, and Abram knows this is an opportunity he can’t pass up. If Emperor Kengo dies then his first-born son, Ichirou, will inherit his throne, leaving the newly crowned Emperor surrounded by people only loyal to his father. A dangerous situation to be in, especially when trying to establish oneself as a ruler. There will certainly be attempts to take his throne, and Ichirou will need his own circle of those he trusts to take out the remainder of his father’s followers, and stabilize the Empire.
Abram thinks he can convince Ichirou to let them into his inner circle.
Jean thinks he’s crazy.
Abram can’t disagree with him, but it’s not like their current situation with Riko and Tetsuji is good. With Kengo’s decreasing health Riko’s temper increases in severity, and his outbursts become more frequent. Abram and Jean get the brunt of Riko’s tantrums, but Kevin’s become his punching bag more and more often as time passes. None of them are without injuries these days, and it’s beginning to affect even Kevin’s ability to keep up with Tetsuji’s training.
It’s one thing for Jean and Abram to go through this, they’ve both been through so much worse, but Kevin isn’t like them, he’s just human. Frustratingly talented, but mortal from all Abram can tell. Even Jean has no recollection of him. Kevin is only here because of familial connections, and his own unfortunate luck.
Riko takes it personally that he is Kengo’s second born, no one even considering him for the crown because of this. Ichirou has been the chosen child since he was born, Riko the cast-off seconds that were pulled out of the gutter by his bastard of an uncle. Kengo’s illness is a stark reminder that Riko will never be anything more than a tool for his brother to use, and he hates it. Abram would find it funny except it means more blood spilt from two people he’s come to consider friends, not to mention the injuries Riko inflicts on Abram himself.
He really hates knives.
With Kengo’s health in decline, and Ichirou’s rise to power inevitable, Abram decides to approach the Emperor’s heir during one of the countless diplomatic banquets held at the Moriyama’s fortress. He’d only been allowed to attend these recently, but Abram has used them to his advantage, and has become relatively known in the court. Luckily, his father has been too busy massacring people on the border to pay the capital a visit, so Abram hasn’t had to deal with that mess yet.
Ichirou is standing off to the side of the ball room, surrounded by a number of lesser nobles all scrambling at the chance to hold the future Emperor’s attention for a mere two seconds before another courtesan butts their way into the conversation. It probably doesn’t help that Emperor Kengo is absent, leaving his heir to deal with all the diplomacies. Tetsuji is notably missing, and no one is paying attention to Riko, which gives Abram a certain vindictive glee in watching him attempt to insert himself amongst the diplomats. Kevin and Jean disappeared together sometime within the last thirty minutes, but Abram can’t really blame them for leaving him alone since it is a rare opportunity to be away from both Tetsuji and Riko’s eyes.
Ichirou’s gaze wanders vaguely around the ballroom, sharp eyes watching the crowd as it flows and mingles around him. Riko and his antics seem to catch his attention for a moment, before he deems whatever it is his younger brother is doing as beneath him, and looks away. Ichirou’s eyes land on Abram a second later, and Abram thinks it’s now or never as he holds the future Emperor's gaze and cocks an eyebrow. It’s not the appropriate way to regard the man, but Abram has found his ability to care dwindling rapidly as tensions within Tetsuji’s household grow.
He needs to end this before Riko does something irreparable, and this is the fastest way.
Ichirou acknowledges Abram with a small nod, and goes back to the primarily one sided conversation he is being forced into. Abram runs his left hand over the back of his right, eyes going to the rune of protection Andrew placed there so many years ago. It’s a comforting presence, and reminds him why he’s doing this.
Taking a breath, Abram walks up to Ichirou, trying not to feel as small as he actually is in the crowd that surrounds him. He joins the group in time to hear one of the regional dukes groveling in what seems to be a ceaseless ramble about increasing wolf populations in his province.
Ichirou cuts him off with a wave of his hand, and the man silences immediately. It’s impressive how he can control the court with only a look, but also terrifying. Abram tries not to think about how Ichirou could snap his fingers and sentence him to death on nothing but a whim.
Ichirou turns to him, “Nathaniel.”
Abram bows stiffly, then addresses the man. “Your Imperial Highness, can I speak with you?”
“Impudent,” someone mutters behind Abram.
Ichirou’s face is a mask of cold calmness as he regards Abram, and really, maybe he should have thought this through more before walking up to him. If Ichirou refuses then he’ll be back to square one, and Abram might have to resort to more desperate measures. Though, at this point he isn’t sure what those would be.
Ichirou is silent for a moment, and the group of courtesans’ grumbles around them. “As long as it is not about wolves.”
Abram forces a sharp grin onto his face that he knows looks disturbingly like his father’s, but that’s a connection he needs to use at the moment. His family is the Empire’s oldest allies, and still reign strong within their province. Ichirou too is forced to acknowledge this. “It isn’t Your Highness. Would you like to get some air?”
The question causes another round of murmurs to break out, but there is no way Abram is having this conversation where these gossips can hear. Without a word Ichirou turns, and Leads them out to a covered terrace. The moon is a slim crescent above them, in a day it will be completely void from the night sky. Abram finds his eyes lingering on its soft light, and the way the stars seem to cradle it in their arms.
He misses Andrew.
“You had something to say.” Ichirou keeps his back to Abram in what would seem like vulnerability on anyone else, but for Ichirou it is the simple knowledge that Abram can do nothing to him here. There are probably at least three guards watching in the shadows, waiting for Abram to make a move.
“Yes.” Abram takes a breath. “I think you will find my abilities more useful in your hands rather than your uncle’s.”
That elicits a response, and Ichirou turns around. “How so?”
“It might become dangerous in the coming years to have a group such as ours loyal to him. He will certainly use us against you when he inevitably tries to take your throne.” Abram says this slowly.
Ichirou’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”
And there it is. Abram has suspected for years that the main family wasn’t aware of what Tetsuji has been training them for on the side, the use he has found in his wards. If the main family had known they would have ended it, someone with such strong ties to the throne could not be allowed to amass that much power within his own circle.
“My father taught me many skills,” Abram says, “But Tetsuji decided I’d be most useful as an assassin.”
Ichirou’s hand goes to his waist where he undoubtedly has a weapon of some sort. Abram raises his arms to show he is unarmed. “I’m just here to make a proposal.”
“Then make it.”
“We would be more useful to you than Tetsuji. My training is that of an assassin, but the others were also trained in ways that would make it easier for Tetsuji to take the throne. There are already many people within your father’s inner circle who have intentions against you, Tetsuji is simply the only one who has blood rights. Jean, Kevin, and I have no loyalty to him, but we have loyalty to this Empire.” A lie, but a necessary one. “It would be more beneficial to you if we were part of your court, rather than Tetsuji’s.”
“And Riko?”
Abram gritted his teeth. “Your brother has been under Tetsuji’s thumb his entire life, and you are aware he wants your throne as much as your uncle does. It might be a good idea to keep a close watch on him.” He hates that he can’t just get rid of Riko now, but he has time, Abram reminds himself.
“It might be good to keep an eye on all of you, seeing as you’re as much a part of Riko’s court as Tetsuji’s.” Ichirou says blandly.
“It might be,” Abram forces himself to agree. “Either way, we want to serve you.”
Ichirou stares at him for a long moment contemplating the situation. “Fine, I will allow the four of you into my court, but you will be sworn to unconditional loyalty. If you try anything, you will die.”
Abram bows deeply, it’s a win, but it doesn’t feel like one. “We will not disappoint you, Your Highness.”
Ichirou leaves him at that, and Abram straightens, letting the cold night air wash over him as he releases his breath. One step forward. He hopes Andrew is okay. In the distance he hears what sounds like a wolf howl, and he closes his eyes. The stars sing above him, and not for the first time Abram wonders how it all came to this.
________
Abram watches as Ichirou and his entourage parade down the main street of the capitol city, the crowd around him a cheering, merry, group that doesn’t at all reflect Abram’s own mood. Ichirou rides at the head of the parade on a pitch-black stallion. The newly crowned Emperor sits tall, head held high, and back straight. Flanking him are Riko and Kevin, their mounts equally black, and their armor glinting harshly in the sunlight. Jean rides a horse length behind them, eyes not leaving Kevin’s back, and hand resting protectively on his sword hilt. Abram has been stationed in the crowd to keep an eye on any potential insurgents, and eliminate them if need be, but it's been quiet so far. The crowd is too enamored by the festivities to consider how this might be a nice chance to stage a riot.
Abram slips from his post to follow the precession, it’s nice to be outside of the fortress for a change. He’s nineteen, and the number of times he’s been granted permission to go outside its walls in the past five years can be counted on one hand. All of those times occurred after Ichirou took them into his court. He’s put them to use, as Abram suspected he would, and as Riko and Kevin’s presence at Ichirou’s side solidifies, Tetsuji’s presence has slowly waned.
Abram just needs to convince Ichirou to get rid of his brother. Riko is still the abusive bastard he’s always been, and he doesn’t know how to shut up, telling the three of them as he cuts their skin open with knives all the ways he plans on taking the throne one day. Like idiotic piece of shit he is.
Abram can’t wait until he hangs.
The crowd pays him no mind, and Abram keeps to the shadows like he belongs to them. It’s easy from this vantage point to observe the people around him. Abram scans the area for anything amiss, eyes never staying in one spot for too long.
It’s not an interesting task, but Abram supposes it’s better than having to be up there with Ichirou himself. He’ll have to find Kevin and Jean later to check in on them, see if anything happened while he was on spy duty.
Something catches Abram’s attention out of the corner of his eye, and he turns in time to see a head of light blond hair weave through the crowd and disappear into an adjoining alleyway.
Abram freezes, his heart shuttering in his chest.
It couldn’t be him.
But Abram remembers his dreams, his childhood, and he feels like he would recognize that person anywhere.
He’s moving before he can stop himself, following the figure down the alleyway without a sound. The man is smaller than Abram but has broader shoulders, and is wearing the robes of a time Abram knows is long gone.
He feels like he’s choking, breath caught somewhere in his throat.
Abram catches up to him in three swift strides and reaches for the man’s shoulder, but stops himself before he can touch it. Instead he says a soft, “Andrew,” in a voice so quiet for a split-second Abram isn’t sure he spoke at all.
Then the man whips around at an impossible speed, and Abram finds himself being slammed against the side of a building. He closes his eyes as the impact sends waves of pain shooting up his back from where the rough stone scrapes his armor across barely there scabs, reopening the cuts Riko gave him yesterday.
Abram sucks in a breath as a fist clenches at his collar, and pushes him harder against the wall. “What did you just call me?”
Abram cracks his eyes open to find a short blond man with Andrew’s face glaring at him, except it isn’t Andrew. Instead of silver two bright golden eyes burn with an intensity barely contained beneath his skin. Abram sighs in disappointment. “Oh, it’s you.”
The man frowns, then his eyes widen, and, really, Abram can’t remember what he did to be punished so harshly in this life, but he must have done something to deserve this. “You.”
“Me.” Abram should probably remember Andrew’s brother's name, but then again Andrew had never told him it, and Abram’s memories from his previous life were spotty at best. “Why are you here?”
The man takes an abrupt step back. “You have no right to be asking me that.”
Abram rolls his eyes at the nagging familiarity of this conversation. He definitely knew this guy once, but Abram isn’t sure he ever liked him. “Yes, right. You need to leave.”
“Leave?” the man asks incuriously. “The fuck you mean, leave?”
Abram isn’t sure how he ever mistook this man for Andrew, they might be twins but they were different in a number of ways. “I don’t know, go find your lions, or something. I’m sure Andrew wouldn’t mind you showing up.”
The man’s face goes blank, and there it is, the resemblance Abram had seen. “Andrew’s dead.”
“Of course, he is.”
The man looks like he’s about to start yelling, but is interrupted by a voice calling down the alley. “Aaron, there you are!”
Aaron, right, that is his name.
Another man appears around the corner, his long limbs and brown skin a stark contrast to Aaron. He wears a warm smile and there’s a bounce in his step, but when his eyes land on Abram and Aaron the smile drops off his face and he stills. “Oh.”
Abram thinks he’s very familiar as well.
“Nicholas.” Aaron turns his back to Abram, which is stupid on his part, but then again Abram doubts he could do anything to the god if he wanted to.
Not that he wants to.
Yet.
Nicholas, that name also strikes something in Abram’s memory. An earthy smell that brings life, soft yet strong. One of the only people who could get Andrew to smile other than Abram himself. Nicholas looks like he’s about to start hyperventilating as he continues to stare at Abram.
Abram decides to hurry this along. Ichirou will notice if he’s gone for to long. “What are you two doing here?”
“What are we doing here?” Nicholas asks, voice raising in pitch, a little hysterically. “How are you here at all?”
That’s too long of a story for Abram to bother with. So instead he simply shrugs and says, “Jean’s here too.”
Aaron turns back around at that. “What?”
Nicholas seem to force himself to unfreeze, and walks the rest of the way towards them. “How is that possible?”
Abram shrugs and glances over his shoulder to the opening of the alley. The parade has progressed down the street and out of sight, he needed to leave. “We escaped, I guess, I don’t remember.”
“You don’t remember?” Aaron growls. “You don’t remember leaving and never coming back?”
Waves of heat are coming off of the man, and his eyes glow brighter in anger, like midday suns yearning to scorch something under their blistering rays.
“Aaron,” Nicholas says quietly.
“Jean was taken, someone had to go after him.”
Aaron sneers. “Right, then you both were captured, and the humans wreaked havoc with your powers.”
Nicholas looks like he’s going to be sick, and Abram feels something twist in his stomach. “They sealed us away.”
“So?” Aaron is definitely yelling now. “They killed Andrew because of you!”
Abram’s breath freezes. He was the reason Andrew died?
Aaron is shaking. “Because they had your powers…”
Nicholas steps between them. “Stop Aaron, you know Abram and Jean had nothing to do with it. They were as much victims as Andrew was.”
Aaron shakes his head, and buries his face in his hands. It’s quiet but for his harsh breaths.
They captured Jean and Abram, sealed them, then used their powers to destroy Andrew’s temple, and kill the god himself. Abram doesn’t want to believe it, but it makes too much since. Abram and Jean were used as weapons for years until… Until what? They were forced into being human?
Abram can’t recall.
That is how they killed a god, by using the powers of two others.
“Andrew’s still here, though,” is all he can say.
Aaron sucks in a breath, and Nicholas looks at him with confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I mean he’s dead, I guess, but he’s still at his temple. He woke up some time ago,” Abram says, wondering how these two didn’t realize. “He can’t leave, however. He’s trapped behind a seal that was placed there.”
Aaron and Nicholas blink at him owlishly, and really, why were they so surprised?
“We thought that’s why you sent your lions to check on the temple.”
“They're messengers,” Aaron says a bit listlessly, clearly in shock.
“Well, they’re stuck behind the seal with Andrew now.” Something occurs to Abram, and his eyes widen slightly at the realization. “You two can finish cracking the seal.”
“Cracking the seal?” Nicholas asks, eyes shifting between the rich brown of freshly churned dirt, and rolling fields of green. He’s taking the revelation that Andrew still exists in some capacity better than Aaron is. Andrew’s twin looks like something in him is crumbling.
“Andrew and I had started before I was taken to the capitol, you two can finish the last step.” Abram is saying it as much to himself as he is to the two gods in front of him. “You’ll just need some of my blood.”
“Why haven’t you gone back?” Aaron asks, voice cracking with something between anger and hope.
“I can’t go without Jean and Kevin, I’m not leaving them here.” Abram knows it’s selfish, but he wants to save all of them. If Abram just disappears the consequences Jean and Kevin will face could be deadly.
“Who’s Kevin?” Nicky asks, but he is ignored.
Aaron’s face has shifted from anger to a sort of begrudging determination, the suggestion planting itself in his mind. “If we crack the seal, he can roam free again.”
Abram nods.
Andrew would still be tied to the temple, but he’d be free.
“Do you have a knife?” Aaron asks, quickly deciding to go with Abram’s suggestion. Perhaps Abram isn’t the only desperate one here.
Abram smiles sharply, and pulls out a blade. “Do you have a bottle?”
Aaron turns to Nicholas, and, while the man looks uncertain, he lowers himself to the ground without a word. Reaching out his hand he closes his eyes, and the dirt underneath his palm twists and folds until a small rock vial is formed. He picks it up and holds it out to Abram, who swiftly cuts into the palm of his hand, watching as his blood drips slowly into the vial, red a stark contrast to the dreary grey alleyway.
Once it’s full he closes his hand into a fist, a spike of pain shooting up his arm, but it’s easy to ignore.
Nicholas holds the veil gently, and stares at him with concern. “We can bring you to.”
Abram shakes his head. “Go free Andrew, and I’ll deal with things here.”
“Don’t tell us what to do, martyr,” Aaron grumbles.
Abram lets out a shaky laugh, the first to escape his lungs in five years. A Martyr, huh? He feels as if he’s heard that before. He closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them again the two gods are gone. Abram’s chest feels lighter as he slips back into the crowd and catches up to the precession.
Andrew is going to be free, even if Abram is stuck here.
He’s grateful for that, at least.