Taowren’s eyes opened a crack, and the inside of his head decided that was going to be a problem. Bales of cotton wool made war with bundles of large, pointy rocks as his bloodshot eyes fixed on the ceiling; it was familiar, the ceiling of his room in the visitors’ residences. Slowly, he rolled onto one side and closed his eyes again, trying to recall how he got back. He could not remember. A knot twisted in his stomach, and he pressed his palms over his eyelids, kneading them with the heels of his hands as if it would help spark his memory. It was no good, nothing came to him.
Tentatively, Taowren sat up. A thick blanket he did not recognise was laid over him, the woven covering patterned with dancing wolves beneath a moon and star-littered sky. He blinked at it hazily.
Where did this come from...?
Head pounding as his feet met with the cold tiles of the floor, Taowren pulled himself out of the bed and looked down. He was still in yesterday’s clothes, bar his shoes. That was something at least, he thought, as he groggily walked over to the desk. Upon it sat a tall glass of liquid, which had definitely not been there the day before. Alongside it was a narrow card box, which held a bracket of incense. Beside these items was a piece of paper with words inked neatly upon its ivory surface. The note included a tidy penned arrow, pointing towards the glass, and it read:
“For last night’s indulgence. This incense is also designed to help calm the minds of those who struggle with sleep. If it helps and you require more, please let me know.
Brayandli”
Taowren read the simple little note twice, and felt the heat in his face slowly rising as a jumble of memories inserted themselves into the gaps in his mind. He closed his eyes and sank into a crouch, groaning quietly. The last thing he remembered was vomiting into a flowerbed. Then… His memory blacked out. He hadn’t actually passed out, right?
Oh, Gods. Brayandli hadn’t had to carry him home, had he? That would be embarrassing, to say the least. Worse than embarrassing if Tomar found out. Taowren would never hear the end of it then.
But… Would Brayandli tell anyone? Taowren doubted it somehow. He rubbed his temples with one hand and lifted the glass of yellow-green liquid with the other, downing the bitter draught in one large gulp. A shaky hand set the glass back down and, with unavoidable slowness, Taowren began changing his robes for a fresh set. He was in the middle of tying his waist sash when Tomar knocked on the door and let himself into the room.
“Sleep any bet-” he started to ask, but upon seeing Taowren’s greyed-out face and the dark bags under his eyes Tomar gave up. “Those herbs were no good, I see.”
“Oh, no, I slept like the dead.” Taowren fanned him away and back out the door before Tomar could take two steps into the room. His cousin wasn’t yelling at him, which meant he did not know that the honoured Okan Heir had carried the wasted Bastard Nightingale back here in the middle of the night. Taowren absolutely did not want Tomar seeing the note on his desk or the blanket on his bed and asking questions. “Let’s go get breakfast! I’m hungry as a h-urgh.”
“A what?”
“A… A horse. Yes, I said horse. Come on, clip clop!”
Tomar looked at him confusedly over his shoulder, but said nothing.
Gathering Tomei as they left, the three strolled through the garden paths and over the little ornate bridges until they came to the great dining hall. At this hour, guests and residents of all shapes and sizes were filtering in and out of its doors. Some passed with buns in hand, while others were taking their time with their breakfasts, sitting at the long tables and conversing with their peers. Many of the heads of these people were topped with white curtains of hair, but Taowren’s eyes were searching for one in particular.
Brayandli came into view. He was sitting alone at a table in the far corner, silently pulling apart a steamed pork bun with downcast eyes. Seeing him, Taowren’s stomach did a small flip and he lost his appetite.
“You look unwell, Taown,” Tomei commented, as the trio selected a bench and sat down.
Taowren made a noncommittal noise while he unenthusiastically selected a small pastry and began peeling pieces of flaking crust from it. “I tried smoking Tomar’s herbs last night. They did not agree with me.”
“More than didn’t agree with you, by the looks of it, you're attracting attention,” Tomar said between mouthfuls of food. “Even Brayandli is staring at us.”
Taowren looked up, swallowing. Their eyes met for a beat before Brayandli stood up, a vision of fluid grace, and started to walk towards the group.
“What does he want?” Tomar hurriedly brushed crumbs from his robes and tried to assume a dignified posture as Brayandli approached. Although Brayandli had met the Nightingale scions multiple times before, Tomar couldn’t really say that he and Brayandli much got on. Tomar found Brayandli boring, and the Gods only knew what the Okan heir thought of Tomar and his flaming temper—possibly nothing at all, given that Brayandli never initiated a conversation with him. So, then, why was Brayandli now walking over towards them, and staring so intensely? A second passed before Tomar realised that intense gaze wasn’t meant for him, but the person sitting beside him. A familiar feeling of concern crept up his spine.
“Oh Gods, what did you do this time, Taown?” Tomar shot his cousin a dirty look, but Taowren’s face turned away, expression guilty.
“Nothing much.” Taowren mumbled, “Just might have humiliated myself.”
“How, exactly?” That famous Sour Plum scowl once again set in.
“Taowren,” Brayandli had crossed the hall and reached them. The tall youth’s hair was pulled up into a bun and held in place by an ornate silver hairpin. His face was as beautiful as always, with not a trace of the nervousness Taowren himself felt as he looked back up at him. “You are well, today, I trust?”
“Hello! Good morning, Brandy! You’re looking most… Ethereal today.” Taowren bowed his head, but raised it with a toothy smile, and did his best to hide the fact that it felt as though the butterflies in his stomach had devolved back into worms and were squirming within him. “I’m good, very good, thanks.”
“…Did you just call him ‘Brandy’?” Tomar asked breathlessly, with a terrible sense of foreboding. In Tomar’s experience, Taowren’s nicknames were reserved for those he intended to make the subject of relentless mockery. Neither Taowren nor Brayandli paid Tomar any attention, however, for they were too busy staring at each other awkwardly.
“That is good.” A small smile graced Brayandli’s pale, princely face, and he nodded his head politely to the twins, who were exchanging looks on either side of Taowren. “You found the incense I left?”
“Mhmm.” Taowren’s head bobbed, and he could feel the colour rising to his cheeks. Don’t mention that in front of Tomar! I’m going to get an earful when you leave! “Indeed, I did! And I, er, thank you.”
Neither seemed to know what else to say to the other—or perhaps Brayandli had run out of words, never having many with which to speak in the first place. And Taowren? Taowren couldn’t say a damned thing with Tomar scowling at him like that!
“I will leave you to your breakfast, then.” The Okan heir’s face remained an impassive, lotus petal mask. Taowren’s face was fixed in that toothy smile, although his eyes were now slightly glassy. Say something. He’s leaving! But nothing came to him. All he could do was smile blankly as Brayandli bowed politely to the trio once more and began to drift towards the large dining hall doors.
“What--” Tomar started to speak, but was cut off by Taowren abruptly jumping up and speeding away as fast as his poor hungover legs could carry him.
Taowren soon skidded to a stop, almost crashing into Brayandli’s back as the willowy youth stepped out of the hall’s oaken doors.
“Brandy! Hey!” Missing the taller boy by an inch, Taowren swayed beside him. Brayandli didn’t say anything but looked down at him questioningly. “Uh… um. About last night…” Taowren licked his still bruised split lip. “Sorry, for… Y’know. And, well, many thanks for getting me back safe. And the… The blanket…?” He wasn’t entirely sure why Brayandli had added another blanket to his bedding, but it could only have been done out of kindness.
“You’re welcome. If it’s still too cold for you at night, do let me know.” So that was it!
Brayandli’s lips curled again. His smile was small, a ghost of a thing really, but it reached his eyes and gave the already beautiful face an almost otherworldly glow. Ethereal, indeed. Taowren’s heart skipped a beat, and he found himself smiling back.
“Um, if that’s all…” Brayandli turned to go.
“Ah, no!” Taowren felt an itch in his chest, and the words just came out. “Uh, what are you doing later today?”
“Today?” Head cocked to one side, Brayandli thought about it, “This morning I’m assisting my sister in teaching calligraphy to the Okan Clan juniors—and then we have an open sparring session this afternoon on the training grounds, which I am expected to attend. All the clans are welcome to join. Will you be coming?”
“Oh, right…” If there was anything Taowren did not enjoy, it was hitting—or, more commonly, being hit by—people with wooden practice swords. But he had already asked what Brayandli was up to, so didn’t that imply that Taowren was free? “Yeah, sure, I’ll come along.”
“I will save a match for you.” Brayandli said, that little smile lighting up his face once again. The tall youth bowed, glossy bangs swinging around his ears. “Well, I shall see you later, Taowren.”
Taowren stared at his retreating brush-straight back while the willowy young man walked down the hall steps and away, his own name ringing in his ears like the echoes of a ceremonial bell.
“Yeah, see you…” A hand absently waved, before the colour drained from his face.
What in the Hellish Falls did I just agree to that for?! A match? With Brayandli? One didn’t even need eyes to see that the two could not be further apart in terms of physical strength. Brayandli was at least six feet tall and, though slender, there was obviously muscle under those fine pale robes! Not to mention he had reputedly been a child prodigy when it came to sword techniques and mana manipulation. Taowren, however, was slim but soft, and he wasn’t even five and a half feet tall! His skill with a sword was paltry at best, and Taowren never took it upon himself to practise.
Sparring with Brayandli was like setting a mouse up against a kaiju! Taowren wasn’t just sure to lose and embarrass himself, but probably humiliate his ancestors fifteen generations back.
The dark-haired boy groaned as he re-entered the hall and dropped down into his seat between his cousins, folding his arms and resting his head face down.
“What was that about?” Tomar asked, all scowls.
“Are you alright?” Tomei spoke in the same instant, concern on her face, “You look even worse than before.”
“I may have done something terrible…” Taowren rubbed his face against his folded arms, making a lowing sound that reminded Tomei of a sad calf. “Just utterly terrible.”
“If even you are saying that, it must be bad.” Tomar’s face went blank. “What did you do…? Gods, did you offend someone again? If you’ve brought shame on our clan—”
“No, no! I just… I agreed… To a sparring match with Brandy…” Head still down, he flapped a desultory hand at his cousin. Taowren felt sick, but he wasn’t sure if it was the hangover or the impending public humiliation. Brayandli’s estimation of Taowren was probably low enough after last night, what would the prestigious Okan heir make of him now? Taowren groaned loudly into the wooden surface of the table.
Beside him, Tomar barked with laughter. Tomei was more sympathetic, patting Taowren gently on the shoulder.
“Why on earth did you agree to that, Taown?” She asked, knowing very well how Taowren avoided practising with his sword wherever possible—it wasn’t uncommon for him to skip lessons at home, hiding up a tree or loafing around the orchards in an attempt to steer clear of the tedious physical work. “You hate sparring.”
“Hard to enjoy anything you’re really, really bad at.” Tomar snickered.
“Because I feel guilty…” Taowren turned his head to the side and tried to subtly shift closer to Tomei, completely ignoring heartless Tomar and instead looking up at his kinder cousin pitifully.
“What about?” Tomei asked.
“…I might have… Got drunk and bumped into him last night.” Taowren mumbled, hoping he was speaking quietly enough that Tomar couldn’t hear him. “He helped me get home… After I threw up… In front of him…” And then passed out… He couldn’t bring himself to admit that last part aloud, though, not even to Tomei. It was too humiliating, far too humiliating.
“You did what?!” Of course, Tomar’s ears were especially sharp when it came to anything Taowren did or said. “Why are you like this?! I knew you’d embarrass our whole clan as soon as we got here!”
“Sh… Shut up!” Without even lifting his head up, Taowren pushed at Tomar with one arm, “I only did it because your stupid herbs didn’t work! What’s even in them? They were awful. The worst!”
“Don’t you blame me for your delinquency!” Tomar shoved Taowren’s arm back with a growl. “You had to run into him of all people?”
“Actually…” Tomei murmured with her face hidden behind her fan, “Brayandli came to our quarters last night looking for Taown, so it’s not surprising he found him after?”
“Eh? What was he looking for me for?” Taowren blinked in surprise.
“He said he had heard that Yan hit you,” Tomei gave a shrug, “So he wanted to check you weren’t too badly hurt.”
Come to think of it, hadn’t Brayandli said something like that to Taowren last night? Taowren squinted, his memory of exactly what was said too blurry for him to recall well.
“Why?” Tomar frowned, “How’s that any of Brayandli’s business? You sure he wasn’t just coming to tell Taown off? Yan is his cousin, after all.”
“Oh, Tomar.” Tomei shook her head, “Not everyone is as harsh as you. It’s normal to be worried about other people getting into fights! This is Taown’s first time here, of course the Okan Clan want to leave a good impression on him.” It would be pointless to add that Tomei had never heard of Brayandli scolding anyone in his life—the Okan heir was so stoic that he barely spoke at the best of times, so it was actively ludicrous to think he was the type of person to seek out an opportunity to deliver a lecture. Only Tomar seemed to have this scolding opinion of him.
Tomar replied with a very loud harrumph and folded his arms. His opinion was very clear: mind your own business, and don’t come bothering other people about it! Especially ones as outrageous as his idiot cousin Taowren!
Taowren groaned again and covered his ears, head spinning once more.
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