TUCKED AWAY IN A CORNER OF PALACE — LORD DO JITAE WAITS AMONG ( OPEN STARTER / Capping at 2!)
jitae never cared much for dramatics.
sadly as the man leaned against one of the giant columns of the palace, his eyes gazing at the sea of nobles, great and small, gathering around the flames of the royal throne, he felt as though he was the only one in this nation that felt that way.
would the theatrics bring back lady sang? jitae did not know much about interrogation but wasn’t the person who was courageous enough to poison one of the great houses skilled enough to skate past some pointed questions? the man did not understand the point of this — a scowl coming over his neutral features, this event had already delayed his return to his homeland, anymore he’s sure that the bandits would gain more ground.
and he would never admit it out loud but before the events of name day occurred, jitae did not have the slightest clue about what lady sang looked like. he’s sure his presence was not needed. sighing, the man shifts his posture, straightening up and turning towards an individual not too far from him.
“do you think they’re going alphabetically?” he at least tries to sound sheepish, but his impatience is evident as he fidgets slightly. “or by household? i’m in a bit of a rush. i have to travel quite far to return home.”
he knows that babysitting isn’t on the official list of duties assigned to the minister of the royal household, but he wonders whether yoonsung would’ve read between the lines.
reading between the lines or not, chaeyul’s always found it amusing to slip out of the elder’s grasp, the act of conformity much too stifling for someone with as much defiance in his blood as him. tonight, the defiance comes in the form of being perched near the rocks of the harbour, mind buzzing with the alcohol thrumming in his system, and he only hears the snap of a twig behind him when it’s too late.
the excuses run through his head like the evidence isn’t right there, the empty bottles precariously balanced on the rocks below him. one: maybe the wine he had was spiked to make it extra potent, or two: he’s just a lightweight. he’s not in the mood to empty his pockets to keep whoever’s found him silent, but when he squints up at the familiar figure and realises who it is, the initial relief is washed away by a consequent realisation.
he’s going to get an earful.
“oh,” he murmurs, the corners of his mouth pulled up in an abashed smile. chaeyul’s found by now that it’s much easier to apologise than it is to ask for permission, especially when you’re born with the entire nation’s eyes on you and everyone seems to know what you think before you do. “thank god it’s you, hyung. the other nobles would’ve fed me to the hippo cows if they caught me doing this again.”
a moment of silence passes, and then, “or is it ... minister han?” chaeyul blinks up, shifting from where he’s sitting. “is it still working hours?”
if he’s being honest, chaeyul doesn’t think a nameday warrants an entire week of celebrations a alongside overwhelming responsibility to host the over-spilling handful of crackpot nobles that grace the fire nation.
though he supposes he’s always been averse to the idea of observing and playing out diplomatic niceties, even moreso at a dinner hall when his mind is less focused on sucking up to the nobles and more on guessing what dessert’s going to be brought out tonight. (he’s made a bet with sayuri, and isn’t in the mood to lose fifteen gold coins just because the head chef’s decided on tart pies instead of fire cakes.) however, his eyes flicker over to the corner of the room when he spots an unfamiliar figure slipping through the cracks of the dining hall’s fingers, her robes trailing behind her like a makeshift shadow.
he knows more than anyone what someone sneaking away looks like, and it’s with a measly excuse he doesn’t bother quantifying to a guard that he follows after her, footsteps hushed when they’re scampering after her until she finally stops. he recognises her more when the light of the moon reflects off her face, but that doesn’t stop the scepticism from churning inside him. if anything, recognition makes him more wary.
he clears his throat. “princess saetbyul, am i correct?” even his voice is quiet against the muffled background of celebrations, the hall’s chatters turned down to a hum from where the two of them stand. he doesn’t conceal the way his gaze is dragging over her features like they’re waiting to catch her out in some poorly designed lie, him the very epitome of suspicion with his inquisitive eyes and pursed mouth.
“you’re looking lovely tonight – but i can’t help but wonder why you’re looking lovely here instead of in the hall, with everyone else.” the leaves rustle with the wind, and he smiles patiently. “even the fire nation isn’t safe for a young princess to roam about alone.”
what were you doing in the morning before the dinner?
“ how could i possibly remember what i was doing? ” she scoffed, visibly irritated with the entire situation. “ nothing exceptional. i fulfilled my morning duties like i do every single morning. ”
who were you with at the time the late lady sang was noticed to be poisoned?
“ i was with his royal highness prince chaeyul. we were simply enjoying each other’s company on a promenade. ”
did you notice anything suspicious, or anyone acting suspicious, at any time in the night?
” now that i think about it . . . there were a few faces around that i did not recognise. that’s unusual as i know every single face that has ties to the royal court in some way or another. if you showed me a picture of everyone who attended i could single them out. but without any visuals . . . i can’t really speak on what they looked like exactly. ”
did you leave the dining hall at any time in the night? or, did you notice anyone who did?
” like i said previously: i was with prince chaeyul. we left the dining hall pretty early on, so i can’t say if there was anyone else who left as well. i only returned after i heard the chaos in the dining hall and helped the guards with escorting the guests. then i was escorted myself. ”
did you know the late lady sang personally? if so, describe your relationship and spare no detail.
” i didn’t. i have met her a couple times throughout my lives, though it was never more than quick greetings. i used to accompany my father a few times when i was very young and that was when i last saw her. i don’t really have any ties to house sang in general. ”
is there anyone within the capital now that you suspect is behind the attack? if so, name them and state your reason.
“ if i had to guess i would say it is a non-bender. or a non-fire bender at least. i’ve heard some of them are bitter over the fact that the fire nation’s kingdom is as big and powerful as it is. ” she leaned in closer to the interrogator, lowering her voice. “ they’re green with envy. ”
do you believe we have spies among us, or do you believe this to be an attack from a foreign power?
” i certainly believe that not everyone who works for the royal family wishes for their well-being. servants talk-- and they do so quite loudly too, if i may say so myself. i’ve heard claims of the royal family being cursed . . . maybe there’s a witch up to mischief among the royal family? ” akane joked, seemingly unaware of the situation’s seriousness.
do you have any reason to want any member of house sang dead?
“ like i said about five minutes ago . . . i do not have any ties to any members of house sang. why would i want them dead? ”
do you have any reason to want any member of the royal family dead?
” no. ”
do you have any reason to want any member of this court dead?
“ . . . i get the feeling you are messing with me, my lord. how many times do i have to say no? ”
is there anything else you wish to say to this court before you take your leave?
“ next time you plan on wasting my precious time, i would like you to tell me beforehand and make an appointment. farewell. ”
running away doesn’t really count as running away when you know you’ll be padding back through the gates of hari bulkan before the sun sets for the evening.
but chaeyul knows, the unfortunate consequences of being acquainted with her one too many times to call it an accident, the idea of running away comes to yuehua like breathing. he had heard about her proclivity for flight even before her begrudging first steps into the nation, however hushed the wu household had attempted to keep the news down lest another scandal burn like wildfire through the capital.
(naturally, hearing about it doesn’t prepare him for the first time he actually meets her, sour-faced and halfway up the walls after having scaled it at a ridiculous pace. she promised she wouldn’t do it again. he caught her on a different wall a day later.)
and maybe he’d be more than willing to overlook her inclination for slipping through the cracks of the capital if it was another day. but when chaeyul catches her teetering on the edge of the forest, mid-discussion with someone he’s never seen before not even a day after hell had broken loose, he paces towards them with the subtleness of a bull in a china shop.
“lady yuehua.” chaeyul thinks there’s no such thing as interrupting a conversation when the conversation itself fails to be particularly riveting, and the way yuehua’s eyes flicker to him only confirms his suspicions. his smile can only be described as tight-lipped despite (admittedly, poor) attempts at making it seem friendly, less sharp, less obviously irritated, less a physical manifestation of ‘i-can’t-believe-you’re-still-parading-around-after-last-night’.
“i believe one of your sisters is looking for you. may i escort you back?”
mei ling’s movements were quick and swift; all thanks to years worth of training for moments like these. she was not even supposed to be here. no one was supposed to catch her here, so there was absolutely nothing she could do other than stand by and watch the scene in front of her unfold.
poison?
the news made her tilt her head in confusion; there was no one she knew who would kill someone else by poison. surely it had to be a non-bender, no? there was no way that anyone of great importance and power would assassinate lady sang like . . . a coward. killing someone by handing them poison in their very own home . . . that was cowardly.
her stream of consciousness suddenly came to a halt when she was approached by a tall, unknown figure. “ i was just about to leave. ” she insisted quickly, though she was unable to leave. “ i said i was just about to leave. please let go of me. ” // @fireflown
it feels like her heart shakes with the arrival of the dragons, the very earth that quakes when they land, the air that bends to their dance. something swells in haeui, the inexplicable pride of being of fire that hasn’t been worn down by her many years with the water tribe. the dance sparks the dimming sky with life once more, and she cheers with the people as the dragons make their descent, uncaring of her position.
and she’s as stunned as any of the court when the dragonrider appears, disembarking to be proclaimed royalty – with blood she’d recognise from anywhere. they feel almost familiar to her as they swoop through the air, in the colours of a new nation. haeui’d alleviated herself of politics once she’d found a new home, but it’s hard not to recognise the features of the northern water tribe on the back of a dragon, she thinks. and even more incredible, and undeniable, is the announcement that follows, from the lips of fire lord chaesan herself.
haeui laughs, half amazed and half incredulous, grabbing the person next to her. “our fire lord has grand plans,” she marvels. like molten glass, liquid heat is needed for change to take shape. it seems even the fire nation, too, can be molded into something new. “perhaps it’ll be good to stay longer in the fire nation this year.”
twenty three years behind him and he’s still not quite been taught how to deal with emotions that don’t disappear once he sees the bottom of an empty wine bottle.
he supposes insane is an apt word to be said about someone repeating the same act over and over again and expecting a different result, but chaeyul finds that disappearing into a familiar alcove every time the world feels like a carpet being pulled out from beneath his feet is better than fruitlessly searching for some medium to pour yourself onto. hari bulkan feels all the more stifling when everyone’s gaze feels like the silent equivalent of sending a lamb to a slaughterhouse, like they’re know he’s next and he’s meant to know he’s next, too.
he shakes his head like that’ll ease the paranoia scratched into his brain, shoes dragging across the stone when he brings his knees up to rest his chin on. burying himself into this corner is just his attempt at escaping, he knows that, but everything feels like an escape to someone who’s trying to run away. he can’t be the only one.
and he clearly isn’t. the comfort he finds in knowing he’ll remain undisturbed, the only other person willing to occupy the space with him having hardened her heart to him years ago, is shattered when he hears treading footsteps. he scoffs, mouth open to alert the stranger of the area’s occupancy when the words catch in his throat.
his mouth suddenly feels dry, mind numbing the second his gaze meets qiuji’s. you’re here too, he thinks, because his mouth won’t say the words for him, because his mind knows he doesn’t have the right to say that to her, you feel the same way i do.
instead, it’s “well.” an embittered laugh, like shards of glass. it echoes in the moonlight. “i must be dying soon if even you are willing to find me again.”
