Chapter Text
Gon was already an hour late for his lessons when Zushi found him hanging upside down from a tree branch in the palace gardens. He grinned when he spotted him, although from Gon’s perspective, he looked a little funny running across the dusty red dirt ground.
“Oh, hey Zushi!” He would’ve waved too, but he had a piece of fruit in one hand and was trying to peel it with the other.
Zushi dropped into a low bow when he reached him.
”Your Royal Highness,” he greeted him. “I was sent to um…” he fidgeted with his tunic awkwardly. “To remind you that you had lessons with your tutor earlier today.” Even from where Gon was hanging, he could see the way the young page shifted his weight, avoiding eye contact despite their strange position opposite one another.
”You know, you don’t have to call me that.”
Zushi’s eyes widened to comical proportions.
“No, Your Highness, I definitely have to! Master Wing would be so ashamed if he found out.”
There, got it. Gon smiled as he tugged the last bit of mandarin skin free from the fruit beneath.
“Where’s he off to today?”
”Oh, he’s in a meeting with the head of the Royal Guard.”
”Mm.” The fruit was a little bit tart as he bit into it. Still, it was a nice way to spend the morning. The sun filtered in through the tree branches this way, and it warmed his skin as he felt its energy thrumming through his body. “So, Master Wing isn’t here, is he?”
”No, Your Highness.”
”Then you can call me Gon! He can’t even hear you!”
”No! I mean, I could never— I would never do that, Your Highness.”
Gon sighed, making sure it was loud enough for Zushi to hear.
“Zush, how are we supposed to be friends if you can’t even say my name?” He broke off a segment of mandarin and handed it to him. “Here, have a piece,” he said. “And tell Kurapika I’ll get there when I get there. The weather’s too nice to be indoors all day.”
”The weather is nice every day,” Kurapika said when he saw him. “The sun never sets on the Kujiran Empire.”
”But Kurapika!” he whined.
His tutor shook his head. “No buts. You know the queen wants you to take over trade negotiations, and you’ve already skipped three of our lessons this week.”
”We could make it an even four,” Gon joked, only to be stopped mid laugh by a withering glare from his tutor.
“We’ll do no such thing,” he said primly, his robes picking up lightly as he swept around the room, gathering stacks of heavy books for their lessons. Gon let out a groan as he settled into his designated chair and prepared for a long afternoon.
Kurapika’s quarters were both the darkest and the stuffiest in the entire palace. He favoured low, elaborate arches and alcoves, packed to the brim with shelves of books and overstuffed chairs that he liked to sink into and spend the day lost in old journals. The room had windows, but they were screened and blocked out by intricately woven blinds that smelled of rich cedar when Kurapika shut them with a sharp flick of the wrist.
“If you want light, you’ll have to make it yourself,” he liked to say, and the endless lanterns that he kept everywhere would hum in agreement, their own light flickering in response to their master’s indomitable will.
As it was now, the room was warm and the air inside was still and heavy, save for Kurapika darting around the room gathering notebooks and heavy tomes alike, only to deposit them on the smooth wooden desk in front of Gon.
“We have a lot to cover today,” he was saying. “At least three days to catch up on, and you’ll need to finish today’s as well.” He turned to face him, and his lips pursed slightly as he studied Gon. “Have you done any of the readings?”
A pause.
“Prince Gon.”
Gon slumped further into his chair. This specific question seemed particularly cruel to him. How could he be expected to study when the trees were in full and fragrant bloom outside, or when his training with Bisky was progressing faster than ever before? It wasn’t fair to ask the Crown Prince of Kujira to spend his days inside reading about imports and exports, and the temperate climate of neighbouring islands. He let himself fall forward until his chin rested on the hard cover of one of the texts.
”Come on, Kurapika,” he groaned. “You already know I didn’t do them. Things have been busy.”
The lantern closest to him flickered again.
“Gon, I’m not asking you to create a budget for the island’s defense spending,” he said gently. “Although…that’s not a bad idea, now that I think about it,” Kurapika added. “You know the empress wants you to learn these things, especially now that she’s getting older, and you’ve become a young man, and— “
”Okay!” Gon held out his hands to stop him before Kurapika could start on Kurta coming of age rituals.
‘I was considered a man by the time I was fourteen,’ he often liked to say, and though Gon was well past fourteen, he felt no more of a man than he had at sixteen, or even eighteen, and certainly not now at twenty-three.
”I’ll focus! Remind me where we left off again?”
Kurapika smiled, slow and smug at his resignation. “We were covering the primary exports of Kujira. Chapter Eleven, Your Highness.”
Kurapika wasn’t all that bad. Gon actually quite liked his tutor, and he’d come highly recommended to Aunt Mito as a fine scholar and an even brighter teacher. At the moment, his smooth voice carried pleasantly throughout the room as he lectured Gon on something about fish. Fishing, probably. The Eastern Coast was known for its plentiful fish, having the good fortune of being located in the middle of the Gulf of Mobius. Or was it the Western Coast? One of the coasts, anyway. He’d only just gotten back from visiting a neighbouring earl’s daughter in the east, and Gon had quite liked the beaches. There hadn’t been much time to explore; he'd had dances and feasts to attend, and the earl had wanted him to get to know his daughter—
“Prince Gon?”
“Sorry, what?”
Kurapika’s delicate brows knit together in a pinched crease on his forehead. “I asked if you could tell me why Kujira stations our naval forces on the Eastern Coast only.”
”Oh,” said Gon. He thought for a moment. It would have something to do with fish, wouldn’t it? Kurapika had been talking about fish, and about—
He was saved from answering by a frenzied knock at the heavy, cypress door.
It was Zushi once again, and breathing hard like he’d run the entire way there.
“Your Excellency,” he panted, nodding at Kurapika. “Your Royal Highness, I’m so sorry to interrupt, but the Queen wishes to see the prince.” He straightened up from his deep bow. “She’s in her chambers,” he added. “It’s urgent.”
Gon could hardly fight his grin.
”I really should see what she wants,“ he said.
”Just go,” Kurapika replied with a curt nod.
Aunt Mito’s chambers were all the way on the other end of the palace, and nearly the complete and polar opposite of Kurapika’s study. They were bright and airy, with long sheer curtains that fluttered gently in the breeze. Nearly every surface was decorated with a flowering plant or vine of some sort, and it all smelled like sweet frangipani perfume. Gon smiled when he spotted his mother, busily tending to one of her plants and imbuing it with her own sparkling energy until its leaves were plump and vibrant with life.
“Aunt Mito? You wanted to see me?”
“Gon!” She turned and met him with a bone crushing hug once he was within reach.
“Is everything okay? Zushi said it was urgent.”
She waved a hand impatiently, her armful of bangles and charms clacking all the while, and laughed him off. “That boy loves to exaggerate,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong, but I’ve received another courtship proposal, and—“
Gon couldn’t help it, he wilted on the spot the moment the word 'courtship' left her mouth.
”Aunt Mito, this is the eighth one this year, and it’s only April!”
”It’s only April and you’ve turned down eight perfectly nice options!” she countered. “Come sit,” she said, moving over to settle on her bed. “Sweetheart, I really think you’ll like this one.”
Gon collapsed next to her, falling back onto Aunt Mito’s soft blankets with a grunt.
”You said that last time,” he reminded her. “And it’s mostly okay; I like meeting new people! I thought the last girl was very nice, but it’s the part at the end that I don’t like.”
He winced, recalling Lady Noko’s expression as he’d announced his plans to return to the palace, and the deliberate way he’d danced around his lack of proposal and interest.
”Of course she was,” Aunt Mito agreed, “but I really do think you’ll want to see this next one. He’s a prince just like you,” she added, “so you’ll have that much in common.”
”Sure,” he said, with a brightness he didn’t feel. “I’ll go look, but that’s it. I’m not making any promises.”
”That’s all I ask,” she said with a satisfied smile. “The Padokean emissaries are already waiting for you to approve.”
Gon blinked. “Sorry, what?”
Aunt Mito could only gesture helplessly. “They insisted that their prince’s portrait be viewed in the best possible light, and I wouldn’t let them have the throne room for it.”
”All that for a painting? I’ll meet him if it’s that big of a deal, Aunt Mito.” He’d already pushed himself up into a seated position, but even from this angle, she was hard to read with a funny sort of smirk twitching on her lips.
“There’s no need for that, Gon,” she said. “Just go and have a look and you can let me know if you’d like us to make arrangements. The emissaries are in the courtyard.”
Weird, thought Gon as he walked through the palace.
“Prince Gon!”
He waved back at the servants he passed on his way down the stairs.
“Good afternoon, Your Highness!” one of the pages called as he went by.
“Hi Ismael!”
For once there was a strong breeze blowing in through the open arches of the castle, and Gon stopped for a moment to admire the sweet fennel scent of hyssop that it carried from the courtyard.
“Oh, Prince Gon!” He was met with yet another familiar face, and it took him a moment to place her. Was she from the kitchens? “The head chef would like to know if you’d like lamb served at dinner tonight.”
Gon frowned. “Er, is there any fish instead? I’m a little tired of lamb.”
“Of course!” She was nodding so hard that her cap had slipped off, and he bent to pick it up. “I’ll tell her right away!”
“Your cap,” he said, holding it out.
“I-I- Your Highness, thank you! You’re too kind!”
And as she continued to stammer, he got the sense that things would go on longer than he wanted if he allowed it to, so Gon gave her his best and brightest smile, thanked her for her hard work, and slipped out and into the next hallway before she could thank him all over again.
Gon hummed as he walked. All that fuss over a painting seemed excessive, but he’d promised Aunt Mito. Padokea rang a distant bell in the back of his mind, and he remembered that it had been in one of the readings Kurapika wanted him to finish. Nothing to do about it now, he figured, already smiling as he stepped back out and into the sunshine. He’d reached the courtyard.
The emissaries were indeed waiting for him outside. There were two of them, and they looked woefully out of place under the warm blanket of Kujiran sunlight. Both wore sharply tailored jackets with stiff high collars that covered their necks entirely. They stood among the jacaranda trees, solemnly holding what must have been the painting under a dark veil of fabric.
“Your Royal Highness,” said the one on the right, bowing his head.
“Oh, hi,” said Gon. They still hadn’t lowered the painting, and he wondered if their arms ever got tired. “You know you can put that down, right?”
The second emissary looked at him, and despite maintaining a rather stoic expression, Gon could see her lip curl ever so slightly in what he could only assume was disgust.
“Sorry! I didn’t mean to offend you!” He offered another smile, and for perhaps the first time in his life, Gon was met with stony indifference.
”We have been entrusted with the safe passage of our crown prince’s portrait,” she sniffed. “Its beauty shall never touch the ground beneath our feet.”
”Uhhh,” said Gon. “Okay, well whenever you’re ready, I guess?”
Both of them straightened immediately, standing even more stiffly than before. With a sweeping motion of his arm, the first man began to speak.
“Prince Gon of Kujira, we present to you The Crown Prince of Padokea, First of His Name, Heir to the Throne of Shadows, and Pride of the Zoldyck Family: His Royal Highness Prince Killua Zoldyck.”
And Gon hardly had enough time to reflect on either the lengthy title, or how the emissary managed to say all of that without taking a single breath, because his partner had already pulled the veil from the painting, and there, looking out at him from a gleaming silver frame, was the most beautiful man he’d ever laid eyes on.
Gon’s breath caught in his throat as he stared.
Immediately he understood why the emissaries had insisted on unveiling it among the jacaranda trees. Anything less would’ve been an insult to the man in the painting. He gazed haughtily out of the frame at Gon, his sharp, elfin features frozen in a bored, half-lidded expression. It was hard to know where to look, Gon realized, his gaze roving every which way. There was the sharp angle of the prince’s jawline, softened only by his full, pouting lips. The prince’s hair too, was striking in its own right. It was entirely white, like the smooth, sun-bleached colour of a seashell, framing his face in messy waves. In the end it was his eyes that Gon couldn’t look away from. They were large and blue, and framed by a set of long, silver eyelashes that lent him the appearance of something not-quite-human staring out from behind his frame.
One of the emissaries cleared their throat.
“Is he to your liking then?”
Gon forced a laugh and rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck as he grinned.
”Yeah—I mean yes. Yes. He’s…” he trailed off. “Send the letter. Please. I want…I’d very much like to meet him.”
An odd sort of smile twitched at the edge of the shorter emissary’s mouth, and she hid it before he could comment.
“Very well,” she said. “We’ll notify the royal family.”