(for justangel) sekh ma shieraki anni
For: justangel
Title: sekh ma shieraki anni
Pairings: Kai/D.O
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~5.8k
Warnings: Mpreg, char!death, slight!gore, slight!abuse, mentions slavery
Summary: Kyungsoo counts the stars on Kai's skin and watches the sun in his eyes while Kai runs his finger over Kyungsoo's bottom lip like he holds the moon in his mouth. Together they build eternity.
Author’s Note: I switched between prompts so many times, but ultimately I went with this one since GoT is my favorite thing ever. Thank you to R and E for helping me with this! And I really hope you enjoy my hard work :) Also, the title is Dothraki for 'my sun and stars'.
Kyungsoo’s fingers dance over the curve of his swollen belly, a smile pulling at his lips and the morning sun prying through the walls of their tent and burning into his skin. It is still early, the land around them still hung with morning dew, and the sounds of crickets around them are slowly ebbing away as the night sky bleeds into bright reds and yellows. Kai’s hand is still heavy on his hip, the other solid under his temple, their hearts beating as slow as the moon recedes from the sky.
The rest of the clan will wake up soon. They always do once the insides of their tents have warmed, the sun blazing over closed eyes, and they can no longer sleep comfortably. Kyungsoo needs to wake Kai up soon- the Khal should always be the first one up, the first one to protect the rest of the clan. He isn’t their king for no reason; he doesn’t have that many tattoos drawn across his arms and chest because he slept-in past sunrise.
Though it doesn’t seem he needs to, because soon Kai is breathing quicker, squirming around behind him while his fingers clench Kyungsoo’s waist harder. “Good morning, my love,” Kai whispers, voice rough, his words threading through the tendrils of Kyungsoo’s hair. He runs his hand over the swell of Kyungsoo’s stomach, pressing his lips to the soft skin of his neck.
“Good morning, my Khal,” he murmurs his reply, laying his hand on top of Kai’s as it maps the hill of his body.
Their mornings weren’t always like this. Kyungsoo comes from a long line of rulers, of kings and queens that rode dragons throughout the Seven Kingdoms, and those of which were slain by the hand of another family. They lost their power years ago, when Kyungsoo was a young boy, and when he got old enough, his brother sold him to be the spouse of a Khal. He hadn’t known what a Khal was back then, but he trusted Junmyeon when he said that the Khal and his people would once again lead their family to the Iron Throne; to be the family that led the Seven Kingdoms once again.
Khal means king in Dothraki. Each time they win a battle, they get another tattoo- lose, and they cut one from their skin. Kai has never lost before.
The first meeting had been awkward. Kai rode in on horseback, a team of Dothraki men surrounding him. He took one look at Kyungsoo and then rode off, but Junmyeon assured him that if he didn’t like him, they would have known. He had to be content with just that.
Being married to the Khal, however, was a culture shock that shook the marrow of his bones. Kyungsoo learned the language of his people, left behind his silk robes for leather garments, and slept in stretched hide tents that were nothing like his plush bed back home. But Kyungsoo grew; he planted his roots in the soil of the Earth, sprouted flowers around the hooves of the white horse Kai gave him on their wedding day, and thrived in the arms of the man he came to love.
It was difficult to love Kai at first, Kyungsoo must admit. They fucked without passion, didn’t talk during the day, and he could see that Kai found more joy watching men kill each other than he did making conversation with Kyungsoo. It wasn’t until an adviser told him, lips pressed against his ear, that a Khal’s heart isn’t in his chest but his cock that Kyungsoo learned.
Kyungsoo found himself pregnant soon after that, and he smiles knowing that the next Khal is growing inside his stomach.
“How is my Khaleesi and my prince doing this morning?” Kai asks, maneuvering so that he’s hovering over his husband. His skin is dark compared to Kyungsoo’s from years of riding in the sun, and Kai has told him several times how much he admires the exotic pigment of his skin, the way he glows in the sunlight and contrasts starkly to his husband.
Kyungsoo watches his eyes swirl with emotion, eyelids still hooded with sleep, then answers, “He’s kicking around. He must be happy that you’re awake.”
“And what about you?” He leans down, brushing his lips against Kyungsoo’s and gazing at his mouth as he waits for a reply.
“I’m fine,” Kyungsoo murmurs. “I just missed you while I slept.” He reaches up to press his palm against Kai’s cheek, thumb swiping at the thick eyeliner that has smeared through the night, before finally leaning up to kiss him.
Kai kisses him gently, tongue coaxing his mouth open so that he can taste him while rough hands are already slipping Kyungsoo’s night shirt over his head. He is careful to avoid Kyungsoo’s pregnant belly, so he rests on his knees, spine arched over him so that he can run his lips down Kyungsoo’s neck and revel in the small groans he lets out.
It doesn’t take long until both of them are hard, panting against each other so that their breath fills the tent and their moans echo throughout the field they settled on for the night. The others will no doubt tease Kai when they head out, and Kyungsoo’s midwife might scold him, but then Kai rolls his hips and their cocks are pushing together and Kyungsoo forgets about everything but dark hair and opaque tattoos.
Kai is quick to rid them of the rest of their clothes. There is a small vase sitting beside the bed just for this occasion, and he swoops it up easily, coating his fingers with the sticky substance before setting it down again. He runs a slick finger over Kyungsoo’s entrance and the latter keens, fingernails digging into the rough blanket below them, head thrown back in ecstasy, and mouth agape.
Kai makes sure that he’s nice and stretched before sliding his fingers out, wiping them on the blanket without care. He presses a hard kiss to Kyungsoo’s lips, emotions pouring from words he can’t find, then thrusts into him with a swift roll of his hips.
Ever since he got pregnant, Kai has only made love to him gently, tenderly pushing into him and kissing his entire body as they rut against each other. His eyes are always soft, even under his rough makeup, movements careful and constructed around the other’s pleasure. Kyungsoo almost misses the way he used to toss him around, pulling his hair until he screamed and leaving deep bruises on his thighs and hips that would last for days.
This gentler Kai is nice too, though, Kyungsoo thinks. He makes sure to lay Kyungsoo down before slowly spreading his thighs, kissing him with raw devotion that steals the air from his lungs. He bridges the gaps of their hearts with his ribs that weave eternity into the blood in their veins.
Kai opens his mouth, hips speeding up just a little, and Kyungsoo knows what he’s going to say: their special words; their heart on a platter in just a matter of consonants and vowels stringed together. “Moon of my life,” he moans into Kyungsoo’s mouth, and it makes his hips stutter from the sincerity perched under his words. Kai’s voice tastes sweet on his tongue.
Kyungsoo’s stomach clenches, hands holding tight onto the thick muscles of Kai’s arms and bottom lip pulled between his teeth. It is hard to find the words when everything in his mind is muddled from pleasure, but eventually they tumble out of his mouth, his voice cracking over a dry throat. “My sun and stars.”
Kyungsoo comes just seconds after Kai releases into him, his hand wrapped around his own cock and a pleasured sigh leaving his lips. Kai slumps down beside him when their high wears off, sweat covering his tattoos and chest heaving for air. It isn’t until he hears the clucking of chickens outside that he remembers Kai is supposed to be up already.
“You should go. You’re already late.” Kyungsoo turns to look at him, hands automatically coming to rest on his stomach.
“My people will understand that I want to be with my husband,” Kai tells him. He moves so that he’s buried into Kyungsoo’s side, nosing the crook of his neck and taking a long inhale of his scent.
Kyungsoo is the only one who gets to see this side of Kai. Outside this tent, he becomes the Khal: taciturn and cold, only showing attention to Kyungsoo when absolutely necessary so that he doesn’t seem weak. The Dothraki will not follow a weak leader.
By his side is the only place Kai will unfurl from his title. Kyungsoo is the only person who knows Jongin, the little boy raised on a horse and who has never set foot on land across the sea. Jongin morphed into Kai after his first battle, and he carved out his place in the clan with every scar he earned, every life he took. Jongin was buried under the praise, under the admiration- under the tattoos.
He commends Kai’s strength. He watched him fight on their wedding day, taking down each man with laudable ease, the scythe in his hand cutting through the air with a sharp whistle. And when he was done with that, he picked Kyungsoo up and fucked him against a boulder that overlooked the sea, just as the sun set behind the horizon.
The rustling of the sheets as Kai moves closer to him draws him out of his musings. “What are you thinking about?” Kai inquiries in a low tone, and Kyungsoo can feel his gaze heavy on the back of his head.
“The day we got married,” he answers, flipping so that he’s facing him. He can’t be as close to him as he’d like, what with his protruding belly, but they’re still close enough that Kyungsoo can feel Kai’s breath on his chin and a shiver racks the ridges of his spine.
Kai opens his mouth to reply, eyes focused on the other, but before he can he’s interrupted by the flap of their tent opening and footsteps that pound against the ground. Their hearts skip a beat, and their son kicks against the inside of Kyungsoo’s belly at the surprise.
“Why the hell are you two still in bed?” Junmyeon walks into their tent, a scowl on his face and his slave waiting for him from behind the entrance. Kai quickly covers them with a blanket, moving away from Kyungsoo and sitting up properly. It isn’t that he’s ashamed to be seen like this with him, but it’s inappropriate for anyone to see the Khal in his sleeping quarters. “Kyungsoo, don’t tell me you actually enjoy sleeping with this Dothraki heathen?”
Junmyeon speaks so that Kai can’t understand him, in their mother tongue, but Kyungsoo can feel him tense from the malicious tone of Junmyeon’s voice. Kai has never liked his brother- truthfully, neither has Kyungsoo.
“I suggest you get out of here right now,” Kyungsoo bites back, and Kai’s frown deepens.
“I need to speak with you as soon as possible. Meet me out in the fields.” Junmyeon ignores him, crossing his arms over his chest with unrightful indignation. He looks to Kyungsoo once more before turning around and leaving the tent, a flourish of confidence in his step. His slave stays by the door to their tent, waiting to lead Kyungsoo to his master.
“I’m sorry about him,” Kyungsoo immediately apologizes, fingers curling around the girth of Kai’s bicep. He has always been afraid of Kai’s rage, the way his nostrils flair and his thick lips purse together until they’re white. He has beaten anyone in the clan that has ever dared to step out of line, though he has never raised his hand to Kyungsoo in all the time they’ve been married. Not once has he raised his voice when Kyungsoo messed up with his language lessons or did something else wrong.
“Don’t worry about it, love,” Kai smiles gently. He cups Kyungsoo’s cheek, bending down to press a chaste kiss to his lips before murmuring, “And don’t stress too much over him. I want my Khaleesi and my prince to be healthy.” He runs his hand over the expanse of Kyungsoo’s stomach, fingers fluttering against his skin, before rising from their bed and dressing.
//
Kyungsoo sighs as he heads out to meet his brother. The heat has already settled on the land, the rays of sunlight flooding through the grass, and he starts to sweat as soon as he walks into the long stalks of weeds. The rest of them are already packing up, stuffing their tents into large canvas bags and snuffing their fires, getting ready to travel until they find another suitable spot to settle in.
He stays close to Junmyeon’s slave, watching his barren feet march on the hard mud. He thinks that maybe he should make him some shoes, because obviously Junmyeon isn’t planning to. They stop at a small opening in the grass where the sod has been cut down to their ankles, in an area just wide enough for a few people, and Junmyeon is already standing in the middle of it.
“What do you want?” Kyungsoo sighs, cupping his hand under his stomach. His shirt is starting to stick to his back, glued to his skin with perspiration, and his feet already ache from the few meters they walked. Through the months his ankles have swelled up to the size of softballs, and putting all of his weight on them hurts.
Junmyeon walks up to him, a dip in his brows and beads of sweat rolling down his neck. The day has just started and he’s already tense, standing akimbo, foot tapping against the ground vituperatively. “Has your husband said anything about getting me back on the throne?”
Somehow he knew he was going to ask that. Junmyeon’s palms have always been turned upward in greed, always taking as much as he can until his pockets sag and his conscience breaks under the weight of gold. “He isn’t ready yet,” Kyungsoo answers honestly.
“But I’m ready,” Junmyeon spits back, inching closer to him. “I sold you to be his consort so that his army could help us take back the Iron Throne, and you’re telling me he’s not ready?”
“He needs time to convince our people to cross the sea!”
Junmyeon scoffs, malice creeping into the wrinkles of his face. There is dirt smeared across his cheeks from days of not bathing; he considers himself too good to wash in the rivers they come across. “Of course the Dothraki would be afraid of anything their horses can’t ride over.”
“You don’t have any right to say that. You know nothing about my people.”
“My people?” Junmyeon sneers. “Next thing you know you’ll be giving me the same tattoos they have.”
“You don’t deserve tattoos,” Kyungsoo murmurs viciously. “You haven’t won any battles.”
The instantaneous sting that spreads across his face makes his heart shatter in his ribcage, and Kyungsoo stumbles back a few steps as Junmyeon pulls his hand away from his cheek. Tears promptly spring to his eyes, his cheek welting with the outline of his brother’s hand, and the elder boy rears back to hit him again. Kyungsoo naturally clutches at his belly, making sure he protects his son, eyes squeezed shut in anticipation for the hit to come.
In the seconds before Junmyeon goes to slap him again, the harsh sound of hooves slapping dried mud drown out the echo of the hit, and a blurry image starts to take shape behind the stalks of grass.
Before Junmyeon can touch him, a leather strap wraps around his wrist and tugs him so hard that he falls backwards onto the ground. A horse slowly makes its way into the clearing, and on its back rides one of Kyungsoo’s guards, the handle of the whip in his hand still wrapped around Junmyeon’s wrist.
Junmyeon sputters incoherently, his face reddening with anger as he tries to stand back up, but to no avail. The guard- Oh Sehun- looks calm on his horse, leather strapped to his chest and his dark fringe covering his forehead. He yanks Junmyeon back to the ground once more, the latter’s pants becoming caked in mud.
“Do you want me to kill him, Khaleesi?”
Kyungsoo watches his brother’s face morph from angry to furious to betrayed, all playing out through the downturn of his lips and the never-ending furrow of his brows. “Don’t hurt him,” he commands, then again in Dothraki. He sees the relief that washes over Junmyeon’s face, and something inside him burns hot. He doesn’t deserve that relief.
“Tell this animal to release me!” Junmyeon screams at him. He tries to tug his arm out of Sehun’s whip, but it only makes Sehun pull him harder, and he screams as the leather digs deeper into his skin.
“Release him,” Kyungsoo commands next, and Sehun slowly and warily unwraps his whip.
Junmyeon storms off after that, his face flaming and his feet stomping angrily- uselessly- against the ground. Sehun glances at him with disdain, squinting at the white mop atop his head, then back to Kyungsoo. He can tell Sehun is disappointed in him; he didn’t stand up for himself, for his son, for his clan.
“Don’t tell the Khal about this, please,” Kyungsoo whispers, just loud enough for Sehun to hear. The locusts resonate all around them, the sun still sitting low in the morning sky, and the distant sounds of the clan packing up their things only adds to Kyungsoo’s guilt. “He will be angry if he finds out.”
“Yes, Khaleesi,” Sehun nods his head, subtly bowing in respect. And then he’s off, mud flying from beneath his horse’s hooves, riding back through the pale stalks of grass.
Contrition tears at Kyungsoo’s stomach as he heads back to the tribe, dried grass crunching beneath his feet. He only wants the best for his family and for his people, and Junmyeon is the only one spoiling that- the shark in a school of marlin. But he feels indebted to his brother, for he is the one who brought Kyungsoo to Kai and the one who has been there throughout the years, the one he grew up with and the one who held him as he cried when their parents died.
All Junmyeon yearns for is the throne, though. He would let every man in the world fuck Kyungsoo ten times over if it meant he got to sit where their father did.
Before he steps back out into the field, Kyungsoo makes a decision: the next time Junmyeon threatens his family or his people, he will allow them to execute his brother.
//
Kyungsoo doesn’t see Kai for the rest of the day. His cheek steadily swells into a bruise, pain setting into his bones along with heat from the sun. Junmyeon is made to march with them without his horse, courtesy of Sehun, and Kyungsoo can hear his grumbles even from the front of the pack.
They don’t settle until the sun is already past the horizon, the night settling over the land, blurring the sand into a hazy reality. They have walked far enough that long stretches of green planes have transformed into barren sweeps of sand and dust. The sun was the hottest today; the summer solstice burned red into Kyungsoo’s shoulders and cheeks and he hopes Kai mistakes the bruise Junmyeon left him for sunburn.
But, as they watch some of the others set up their tent, he can feel Kai’s heavy gaze on him, caressing the lines of his jaw. He wants to try and hide himself by shoving his face in Kai’s chest, but that would just raise his suspicion. So Kyungsoo settles for watching his hands smooth over his large stomach, smiling to himself as he thinks about what they’re going to name their son.
Kyungsoo scurries inside once their tent is raised and their bed is made up, wanting to lay down and rest his aching legs. Riding all day long is a lose-lose situation, because either his legs hurt when he gets down from the hard-leather saddle or his feet and ankles hurt from walking mile after mile.
He sits down on their bed, sighing with relief and letting his shoulders slump lazily. Kai sits down next to him silently, not even rustling the cloths underneath himself. He reaches over, a calloused hand gently cupping the sensitive skin of Kyungsoo’s cheek, a sad look on his face. “Did Junmyeon do this to you?”
Kyungsoo’s eyes widen, and his stomach sinks to his knees. “Did Sehun tell you?” he mutters, fingers clutching at his pants. He can feel the worry eating through his skin and grating over his organs, his palms restlessly pressing into the tops of his thighs.
“Don’t think I don’t know you, Kyungsoo,” Kai says in a low tone, and the guilt hits him even harder when Kai uses his name. “I will not do anything now because he is your brother, but I swear the next time he hurts you- hell, the next time he even comes near you with his hand raised, I will kill him.”
Kai pulls Kyungsoo towards him, and both of their eyes slowly drift shut as he brushes his lips over Kyungsoo’s damp forehead, his other hand ghosting the small of his back. Kyungsoo can only whisper his reply, the memories of him and his brother playing in the gardens back home running across the back of his closed eyelids, but this time he feels no remorse.
“I won’t stop you.”
//
Kyungsoo gives birth on the Saturday following the summer solstice.
His midwife coaches him through it, telling Kai not to worry that their son is a few weeks early- three, actually- because he’s still full-term. Kyungsoo doesn’t allow his husband in the tent with him, doesn’t want him to see the sweat accumulated at his hairline and way he grits his teeth as he pushes. He doesn’t want Kai to see this side of him.
It is exhausting, and he isn’t able to really start pushing until the chill of night hits them. Kyungsoo doesn’t think he will ever forget the sound of his son’s first cries. Suddenly all the pain, the hours of intense labor and the break in his sanity, it was all worth it.
He holds his son in his arms after some of the others have cleaned him and wrapped him in silk cloth, a hazy smile on his face and the pain between his legs slowly dissipating into nothing. A sheen of joy coats him, something stronger than the buzz of alcohol that creates butterflies in his tummy. It is the eternal bliss of holding his son in his own arms, a boy equal parts him and Kai with Kyungsoo’s lips and Kai’s nose on his tiny face.
He doesn’t notice when Kai comes into the tent, ignoring the strong stench of sweat and blood, and immediately kneels down to wrap his arms around his husband’s narrow shoulders. He can’t take his eyes off their son- not when he’s finally here in the world with them, perfectly curved lips stretching into a smile.
Kai looks to his husband who’s still watching their son, a tiny hand wrapped around his forefinger, and his heart almost explodes in his chest. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved you more than I do right now,” he breathes out, candor rounding his eyes and drawing a glassy cover over them.
Kyungsoo kisses him- exhausted, dirty, with their newborn in his arms, he kisses his husband with the all energy he has left draining from the marrow in his bones.
//
They hold a party a week later in celebration of their son’s birth. The midwife told them that their son’s birth being so close to the summer solstice is a testament to his strength, and both of their hearts swelled with pride.
They name him Rhaek.
The entire clan is in awe of the newborn. This is the Khal’s son, the successor to his throne, the one that will one day lead all Seven Kingdoms. So they raid villages for alcohol and supplies in excitement, preparing for the celebration that they will remember as their Khal leads them into battle.
Kai cannot wipe the smile from his face, even in front of the rest of the Dothraki people; even when he’s by himself. Sometimes Kyungsoo will wake up in the middle of the night, Kai’s arms holding him tightly, and his husband will just be staring at him with a distant look in his eyes. Other nights he wakes up cold, a hard chest missing from under his head, and he will look up to see Kai by the cradle, their son sleeping quietly in his arms.
(Kyungsoo watches him sway gently back and forth, and he knows he couldn’t ask for a better husband and father for his son.)
The sound of a man getting knocked to the ground brings Kyungsoo back from his memories, his eyes blearily focused on nothing. He looks around the party. Everyone from the tribe is here, some dancing to one side of the tent, ignoring the men fighting on the other side, with a fire in the center that is roasting the pig. Kyungsoo and Jongin are sitting on a mountain of pillows and cloths near the back wall, the maroon fabric of the tent adding to the darkness of the night, blocking out the light from the moon and stars.
The atmosphere is loud and noisy and Kyungsoo isn’t so sure that he should have their son in his arms right now with men beating each other to death and men and women grinding together to loud music. But this is a celebration to honor him, and by the way Kai is looking at the two of them, small words of affection hidden behind his lips, Kyungsoo knows that he would protect them from anything.
Some time past the feast, when their bellies are sated and their tongues colored red with wine, the party starts to settle down a bit. Most people are lazing around, having brought their own pillows and cloths from their tents, and have cuddled up with whomever they had decided to take for the night.
Kai leans over shortly after one of the slower songs has ended, pressing his lips against the shell of Kyungsoo’s ear, and whispers, “You have brought me joy that I never knew was possible.”
Kyungsoo can’t stop the smile that blooms across his face or the pink that tints his cheeks, his eyes curving into crescents that hide the full moon of his irises. “I love you,” he whispers back. He doesn’t care that the rest of the tribe can see them as he presses a sloppy kiss to Kai’s lips, careful not to rouse the sleeping boy in his arms.
That’s when they hear it: the hard slam of boots against the ground and loud, muffled groans from beyond the walls of the tent. Everyone in the tent stops what they’re doing, the music gradually dying down, and alert eyes moving to the entrance, watching for signs of an intruder.
Except it’s Junmyeon that stumbles in, face as red and sweaty as the drunkest man here. His slave is right there behind him, trying to pick him off from the ground, embarrassment swelling in his cheeks.
Kyungsoo sighs, and his mood darkens considerably when Junmyeon finally stands up and looks towards them.
“You!” Junmyeon shouts, the word sloppy just like his movements. He points a finger at them, and Kyungsoo is surprised when the tip of his finger isn’t directly in his face. He’s pointing at Kai. “You were supposed to lead me to the Iron Throne!” he screams. Kyungsoo covers Rhaek’s ears with his hand protectively, his brother’s voice projecting around the entire room. Junmyeon draws his sword deftly, and all the occupants of the tent tense at the sight. “I swear, if you don’t give me an army, I will take my brother and I’ll kill your son. I’ll take back the throne myself.”
Kai looks to him confusedly- Junmyeon is speaking so that Kai can’t understand him, just like he always does. Kyungsoo quietly translates for him, whispering it into his husband’s ear while his brother walks around the tent and kicks over golden chalices, his sword still held clumsily in his hand. Kai keeps his countenance stoic, but Kyungsoo can tell by the press of his lips that he’s beyond angry. He’s absolutely seething.
“You should leave,” Kyungsoo suggests boldly when he’s done translating, seeing the sneers on all the faces of his people. It wouldn’t look good for him if his brother did something stupid, especially on the night they are celebrating their son’s birth.
Junmyeon stops in his place, wine spilled over his leather shoes, and his lips twist up even further. “No, I will not leave! I’m tired of playing in the mud with these people that are no better than their horses!” He storms up to their fortress of pillows, but Kai is quick to stand before he can reach Kyungsoo, so Junmyeon turns his attention back to him. “You promised me gold! You promised me a throne! But you’re just here sitting on your ignorant brown ass!”
Kai towers over Junmyeon. His shoulders are broader, eyes intimidating with the black that lines it, paired with the ink on his skin. Not to mention that Junmyeon is soft everywhere Kai is hard, ribs showing through his chest while Kai’s body ripples with muscles. Everyone holds their breath as they await the Khal’s response.
“You want gold?” he asks, and Kyungsoo’s eyes widen because he isn’t speaking Dothraki anymore.
“Yes!” Junmyeon yells back at him, his expression breaking way into satisfaction. “It’s what I’ve wanted the whole time!”
Kai nods stiffly, his shoulders rigid, ribs trying not to bow back to let his anger fill the mold of his body. He doesn’t waste time in slipping out from in front of Junmyeon and swooping down to collect gold chalice after gold chalice, even breaking off some of the gold necklaces that hang around womens’ necks and shucking in his own golden belt.
Kyungsoo doesn’t know where this is headed, but there is dysphoria looming in his gut as Kai drops it all into the pot used to heat the baste that covered the pig. Then he is holding it over the raging fire, the flames licking at the black clay, and when he speaks, it is low and dangerous with abhorrence sprouting like daisies in his lungs.
“You did not stop disrespecting my people from the moment you got here.” His words are broken, consonants split up on his tongue, but there is determination lacing every syllable. “You treat us like we are beneath the dirt on your expensive shoes.” The gold slowly melts down, turning to syrup at the bottom of the pot. “But all you want is iron and gold.”
Junmyeon doesn’t realize that Sehun and Zitao are coming up behind him until they’re grabbing his arms and twisting them so far behind his back that everyone in the tent hears the snap of his bones. They force him to the ground, on his knees in front of where Kai standing, and Junmyeon cries out from the pain in his shoulder. Soo, don’t let them do this!
Kyungsoo ignores his pleas.
It only takes a matter of seconds before the goblets and necklaces are all melted down, boiled into a lustrous, molten liquid. Junmyeon is paralyzed with a combination of fear and anticipation, muscles frozen, and he stays rooted in the position the men have put him in.
“So here is your crown.”
Everyone holds their breath as Kai lifts the pot- Kyungsoo uselessly covers his sleeping son’s eyes, but he continues to look on, and some of the others turn away as the boiling gold slips over the edge of the pot and onto Junmyeon’s face.
The liquid starts steaming as soon as it hits skin, his flesh turning red and blistering, only to be covered by the thick coat of metal. Junmyeon’s screams are loud, blood-curdling and mixed in with streams of curses that sound like they’re coming from the Devil himself. The pus from popped blisters runs faster than the gold does, seeping down his face and dripping into his mouth like the tears he can’t shed because it’s already covered his eyes and burned through the thin skin of his lids.
The gold stops before it can reach his agape mouth, hardening to the shape of his face, and Junmyeon drops to the floor head-first as the last of his screams die in his throat.
Gold is heavy, but at least Junmyeon finally has his crown.
(Kyungsoo feels numb, but somehow he knows there is not a morsel of regret coursing through his blood.)
“He has his golden crown now,” Kai’s voice booms, echoing into the smallest corners of the room, “and my son, the stallion who shall mount the world, will have his silver! He will sit on the Iron Throne!” He glances at his husband, motioning for him to come closer. Kyungsoo does, ignoring the dead body of his brother, and their son still in his arms. “Kyungsoo, you are the moon of my life. You brought light to me when I was walking in the dark, and I will conquer the Seven Kingdoms if it means you will be proud of me like I am of you.”
This is more than a confession of love. This is a publicized promise, a swear that will mark the stone that sits over his ashes. Ripples of encouragement pass over their audience- Kai’s brothers and sisters, the people he has fought for his entire life- and slowly but surely their volume grows until they are chanting Khal so loud that even the stars can hear them.
Kyungsoo smiles as Kai cups his cheeks, languidly pulling him closer so that their son is wedged snuggly between their chests, and knocks their foreheads together. “I love you,” Kai murmurs, eyes dropping to plump lips. “We will sit on the Iron Throne together, won’t we?”
“Of course we will,” Kyungsoo whispers back. He pushes himself up the rest of the way, and even though this is the millionth time they’ve kissed, a throng of butterflies still erupts in his belly. The image of his Kai sitting on the throne forged by his ancestors is already engraved on the backs of his eyelids, and he is sitting beside him, their son on his lap, a crown on all their heads. “Of course we will, my sun and stars.”
Title: sekh ma shieraki anni
Pairings: Kai/D.O
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~5.8k
Warnings: Mpreg, char!death, slight!gore, slight!abuse, mentions slavery
Summary: Kyungsoo counts the stars on Kai's skin and watches the sun in his eyes while Kai runs his finger over Kyungsoo's bottom lip like he holds the moon in his mouth. Together they build eternity.
Author’s Note: I switched between prompts so many times, but ultimately I went with this one since GoT is my favorite thing ever. Thank you to R and E for helping me with this! And I really hope you enjoy my hard work :) Also, the title is Dothraki for 'my sun and stars'.
Kyungsoo’s fingers dance over the curve of his swollen belly, a smile pulling at his lips and the morning sun prying through the walls of their tent and burning into his skin. It is still early, the land around them still hung with morning dew, and the sounds of crickets around them are slowly ebbing away as the night sky bleeds into bright reds and yellows. Kai’s hand is still heavy on his hip, the other solid under his temple, their hearts beating as slow as the moon recedes from the sky.
The rest of the clan will wake up soon. They always do once the insides of their tents have warmed, the sun blazing over closed eyes, and they can no longer sleep comfortably. Kyungsoo needs to wake Kai up soon- the Khal should always be the first one up, the first one to protect the rest of the clan. He isn’t their king for no reason; he doesn’t have that many tattoos drawn across his arms and chest because he slept-in past sunrise.
Though it doesn’t seem he needs to, because soon Kai is breathing quicker, squirming around behind him while his fingers clench Kyungsoo’s waist harder. “Good morning, my love,” Kai whispers, voice rough, his words threading through the tendrils of Kyungsoo’s hair. He runs his hand over the swell of Kyungsoo’s stomach, pressing his lips to the soft skin of his neck.
“Good morning, my Khal,” he murmurs his reply, laying his hand on top of Kai’s as it maps the hill of his body.
Their mornings weren’t always like this. Kyungsoo comes from a long line of rulers, of kings and queens that rode dragons throughout the Seven Kingdoms, and those of which were slain by the hand of another family. They lost their power years ago, when Kyungsoo was a young boy, and when he got old enough, his brother sold him to be the spouse of a Khal. He hadn’t known what a Khal was back then, but he trusted Junmyeon when he said that the Khal and his people would once again lead their family to the Iron Throne; to be the family that led the Seven Kingdoms once again.
Khal means king in Dothraki. Each time they win a battle, they get another tattoo- lose, and they cut one from their skin. Kai has never lost before.
The first meeting had been awkward. Kai rode in on horseback, a team of Dothraki men surrounding him. He took one look at Kyungsoo and then rode off, but Junmyeon assured him that if he didn’t like him, they would have known. He had to be content with just that.
Being married to the Khal, however, was a culture shock that shook the marrow of his bones. Kyungsoo learned the language of his people, left behind his silk robes for leather garments, and slept in stretched hide tents that were nothing like his plush bed back home. But Kyungsoo grew; he planted his roots in the soil of the Earth, sprouted flowers around the hooves of the white horse Kai gave him on their wedding day, and thrived in the arms of the man he came to love.
It was difficult to love Kai at first, Kyungsoo must admit. They fucked without passion, didn’t talk during the day, and he could see that Kai found more joy watching men kill each other than he did making conversation with Kyungsoo. It wasn’t until an adviser told him, lips pressed against his ear, that a Khal’s heart isn’t in his chest but his cock that Kyungsoo learned.
Kyungsoo found himself pregnant soon after that, and he smiles knowing that the next Khal is growing inside his stomach.
“How is my Khaleesi and my prince doing this morning?” Kai asks, maneuvering so that he’s hovering over his husband. His skin is dark compared to Kyungsoo’s from years of riding in the sun, and Kai has told him several times how much he admires the exotic pigment of his skin, the way he glows in the sunlight and contrasts starkly to his husband.
Kyungsoo watches his eyes swirl with emotion, eyelids still hooded with sleep, then answers, “He’s kicking around. He must be happy that you’re awake.”
“And what about you?” He leans down, brushing his lips against Kyungsoo’s and gazing at his mouth as he waits for a reply.
“I’m fine,” Kyungsoo murmurs. “I just missed you while I slept.” He reaches up to press his palm against Kai’s cheek, thumb swiping at the thick eyeliner that has smeared through the night, before finally leaning up to kiss him.
Kai kisses him gently, tongue coaxing his mouth open so that he can taste him while rough hands are already slipping Kyungsoo’s night shirt over his head. He is careful to avoid Kyungsoo’s pregnant belly, so he rests on his knees, spine arched over him so that he can run his lips down Kyungsoo’s neck and revel in the small groans he lets out.
It doesn’t take long until both of them are hard, panting against each other so that their breath fills the tent and their moans echo throughout the field they settled on for the night. The others will no doubt tease Kai when they head out, and Kyungsoo’s midwife might scold him, but then Kai rolls his hips and their cocks are pushing together and Kyungsoo forgets about everything but dark hair and opaque tattoos.
Kai is quick to rid them of the rest of their clothes. There is a small vase sitting beside the bed just for this occasion, and he swoops it up easily, coating his fingers with the sticky substance before setting it down again. He runs a slick finger over Kyungsoo’s entrance and the latter keens, fingernails digging into the rough blanket below them, head thrown back in ecstasy, and mouth agape.
Kai makes sure that he’s nice and stretched before sliding his fingers out, wiping them on the blanket without care. He presses a hard kiss to Kyungsoo’s lips, emotions pouring from words he can’t find, then thrusts into him with a swift roll of his hips.
Ever since he got pregnant, Kai has only made love to him gently, tenderly pushing into him and kissing his entire body as they rut against each other. His eyes are always soft, even under his rough makeup, movements careful and constructed around the other’s pleasure. Kyungsoo almost misses the way he used to toss him around, pulling his hair until he screamed and leaving deep bruises on his thighs and hips that would last for days.
This gentler Kai is nice too, though, Kyungsoo thinks. He makes sure to lay Kyungsoo down before slowly spreading his thighs, kissing him with raw devotion that steals the air from his lungs. He bridges the gaps of their hearts with his ribs that weave eternity into the blood in their veins.
Kai opens his mouth, hips speeding up just a little, and Kyungsoo knows what he’s going to say: their special words; their heart on a platter in just a matter of consonants and vowels stringed together. “Moon of my life,” he moans into Kyungsoo’s mouth, and it makes his hips stutter from the sincerity perched under his words. Kai’s voice tastes sweet on his tongue.
Kyungsoo’s stomach clenches, hands holding tight onto the thick muscles of Kai’s arms and bottom lip pulled between his teeth. It is hard to find the words when everything in his mind is muddled from pleasure, but eventually they tumble out of his mouth, his voice cracking over a dry throat. “My sun and stars.”
Kyungsoo comes just seconds after Kai releases into him, his hand wrapped around his own cock and a pleasured sigh leaving his lips. Kai slumps down beside him when their high wears off, sweat covering his tattoos and chest heaving for air. It isn’t until he hears the clucking of chickens outside that he remembers Kai is supposed to be up already.
“You should go. You’re already late.” Kyungsoo turns to look at him, hands automatically coming to rest on his stomach.
“My people will understand that I want to be with my husband,” Kai tells him. He moves so that he’s buried into Kyungsoo’s side, nosing the crook of his neck and taking a long inhale of his scent.
Kyungsoo is the only one who gets to see this side of Kai. Outside this tent, he becomes the Khal: taciturn and cold, only showing attention to Kyungsoo when absolutely necessary so that he doesn’t seem weak. The Dothraki will not follow a weak leader.
By his side is the only place Kai will unfurl from his title. Kyungsoo is the only person who knows Jongin, the little boy raised on a horse and who has never set foot on land across the sea. Jongin morphed into Kai after his first battle, and he carved out his place in the clan with every scar he earned, every life he took. Jongin was buried under the praise, under the admiration- under the tattoos.
He commends Kai’s strength. He watched him fight on their wedding day, taking down each man with laudable ease, the scythe in his hand cutting through the air with a sharp whistle. And when he was done with that, he picked Kyungsoo up and fucked him against a boulder that overlooked the sea, just as the sun set behind the horizon.
The rustling of the sheets as Kai moves closer to him draws him out of his musings. “What are you thinking about?” Kai inquiries in a low tone, and Kyungsoo can feel his gaze heavy on the back of his head.
“The day we got married,” he answers, flipping so that he’s facing him. He can’t be as close to him as he’d like, what with his protruding belly, but they’re still close enough that Kyungsoo can feel Kai’s breath on his chin and a shiver racks the ridges of his spine.
Kai opens his mouth to reply, eyes focused on the other, but before he can he’s interrupted by the flap of their tent opening and footsteps that pound against the ground. Their hearts skip a beat, and their son kicks against the inside of Kyungsoo’s belly at the surprise.
“Why the hell are you two still in bed?” Junmyeon walks into their tent, a scowl on his face and his slave waiting for him from behind the entrance. Kai quickly covers them with a blanket, moving away from Kyungsoo and sitting up properly. It isn’t that he’s ashamed to be seen like this with him, but it’s inappropriate for anyone to see the Khal in his sleeping quarters. “Kyungsoo, don’t tell me you actually enjoy sleeping with this Dothraki heathen?”
Junmyeon speaks so that Kai can’t understand him, in their mother tongue, but Kyungsoo can feel him tense from the malicious tone of Junmyeon’s voice. Kai has never liked his brother- truthfully, neither has Kyungsoo.
“I suggest you get out of here right now,” Kyungsoo bites back, and Kai’s frown deepens.
“I need to speak with you as soon as possible. Meet me out in the fields.” Junmyeon ignores him, crossing his arms over his chest with unrightful indignation. He looks to Kyungsoo once more before turning around and leaving the tent, a flourish of confidence in his step. His slave stays by the door to their tent, waiting to lead Kyungsoo to his master.
“I’m sorry about him,” Kyungsoo immediately apologizes, fingers curling around the girth of Kai’s bicep. He has always been afraid of Kai’s rage, the way his nostrils flair and his thick lips purse together until they’re white. He has beaten anyone in the clan that has ever dared to step out of line, though he has never raised his hand to Kyungsoo in all the time they’ve been married. Not once has he raised his voice when Kyungsoo messed up with his language lessons or did something else wrong.
“Don’t worry about it, love,” Kai smiles gently. He cups Kyungsoo’s cheek, bending down to press a chaste kiss to his lips before murmuring, “And don’t stress too much over him. I want my Khaleesi and my prince to be healthy.” He runs his hand over the expanse of Kyungsoo’s stomach, fingers fluttering against his skin, before rising from their bed and dressing.
//
Kyungsoo sighs as he heads out to meet his brother. The heat has already settled on the land, the rays of sunlight flooding through the grass, and he starts to sweat as soon as he walks into the long stalks of weeds. The rest of them are already packing up, stuffing their tents into large canvas bags and snuffing their fires, getting ready to travel until they find another suitable spot to settle in.
He stays close to Junmyeon’s slave, watching his barren feet march on the hard mud. He thinks that maybe he should make him some shoes, because obviously Junmyeon isn’t planning to. They stop at a small opening in the grass where the sod has been cut down to their ankles, in an area just wide enough for a few people, and Junmyeon is already standing in the middle of it.
“What do you want?” Kyungsoo sighs, cupping his hand under his stomach. His shirt is starting to stick to his back, glued to his skin with perspiration, and his feet already ache from the few meters they walked. Through the months his ankles have swelled up to the size of softballs, and putting all of his weight on them hurts.
Junmyeon walks up to him, a dip in his brows and beads of sweat rolling down his neck. The day has just started and he’s already tense, standing akimbo, foot tapping against the ground vituperatively. “Has your husband said anything about getting me back on the throne?”
Somehow he knew he was going to ask that. Junmyeon’s palms have always been turned upward in greed, always taking as much as he can until his pockets sag and his conscience breaks under the weight of gold. “He isn’t ready yet,” Kyungsoo answers honestly.
“But I’m ready,” Junmyeon spits back, inching closer to him. “I sold you to be his consort so that his army could help us take back the Iron Throne, and you’re telling me he’s not ready?”
“He needs time to convince our people to cross the sea!”
Junmyeon scoffs, malice creeping into the wrinkles of his face. There is dirt smeared across his cheeks from days of not bathing; he considers himself too good to wash in the rivers they come across. “Of course the Dothraki would be afraid of anything their horses can’t ride over.”
“You don’t have any right to say that. You know nothing about my people.”
“My people?” Junmyeon sneers. “Next thing you know you’ll be giving me the same tattoos they have.”
“You don’t deserve tattoos,” Kyungsoo murmurs viciously. “You haven’t won any battles.”
The instantaneous sting that spreads across his face makes his heart shatter in his ribcage, and Kyungsoo stumbles back a few steps as Junmyeon pulls his hand away from his cheek. Tears promptly spring to his eyes, his cheek welting with the outline of his brother’s hand, and the elder boy rears back to hit him again. Kyungsoo naturally clutches at his belly, making sure he protects his son, eyes squeezed shut in anticipation for the hit to come.
In the seconds before Junmyeon goes to slap him again, the harsh sound of hooves slapping dried mud drown out the echo of the hit, and a blurry image starts to take shape behind the stalks of grass.
Before Junmyeon can touch him, a leather strap wraps around his wrist and tugs him so hard that he falls backwards onto the ground. A horse slowly makes its way into the clearing, and on its back rides one of Kyungsoo’s guards, the handle of the whip in his hand still wrapped around Junmyeon’s wrist.
Junmyeon sputters incoherently, his face reddening with anger as he tries to stand back up, but to no avail. The guard- Oh Sehun- looks calm on his horse, leather strapped to his chest and his dark fringe covering his forehead. He yanks Junmyeon back to the ground once more, the latter’s pants becoming caked in mud.
“Do you want me to kill him, Khaleesi?”
Kyungsoo watches his brother’s face morph from angry to furious to betrayed, all playing out through the downturn of his lips and the never-ending furrow of his brows. “Don’t hurt him,” he commands, then again in Dothraki. He sees the relief that washes over Junmyeon’s face, and something inside him burns hot. He doesn’t deserve that relief.
“Tell this animal to release me!” Junmyeon screams at him. He tries to tug his arm out of Sehun’s whip, but it only makes Sehun pull him harder, and he screams as the leather digs deeper into his skin.
“Release him,” Kyungsoo commands next, and Sehun slowly and warily unwraps his whip.
Junmyeon storms off after that, his face flaming and his feet stomping angrily- uselessly- against the ground. Sehun glances at him with disdain, squinting at the white mop atop his head, then back to Kyungsoo. He can tell Sehun is disappointed in him; he didn’t stand up for himself, for his son, for his clan.
“Don’t tell the Khal about this, please,” Kyungsoo whispers, just loud enough for Sehun to hear. The locusts resonate all around them, the sun still sitting low in the morning sky, and the distant sounds of the clan packing up their things only adds to Kyungsoo’s guilt. “He will be angry if he finds out.”
“Yes, Khaleesi,” Sehun nods his head, subtly bowing in respect. And then he’s off, mud flying from beneath his horse’s hooves, riding back through the pale stalks of grass.
Contrition tears at Kyungsoo’s stomach as he heads back to the tribe, dried grass crunching beneath his feet. He only wants the best for his family and for his people, and Junmyeon is the only one spoiling that- the shark in a school of marlin. But he feels indebted to his brother, for he is the one who brought Kyungsoo to Kai and the one who has been there throughout the years, the one he grew up with and the one who held him as he cried when their parents died.
All Junmyeon yearns for is the throne, though. He would let every man in the world fuck Kyungsoo ten times over if it meant he got to sit where their father did.
Before he steps back out into the field, Kyungsoo makes a decision: the next time Junmyeon threatens his family or his people, he will allow them to execute his brother.
//
Kyungsoo doesn’t see Kai for the rest of the day. His cheek steadily swells into a bruise, pain setting into his bones along with heat from the sun. Junmyeon is made to march with them without his horse, courtesy of Sehun, and Kyungsoo can hear his grumbles even from the front of the pack.
They don’t settle until the sun is already past the horizon, the night settling over the land, blurring the sand into a hazy reality. They have walked far enough that long stretches of green planes have transformed into barren sweeps of sand and dust. The sun was the hottest today; the summer solstice burned red into Kyungsoo’s shoulders and cheeks and he hopes Kai mistakes the bruise Junmyeon left him for sunburn.
But, as they watch some of the others set up their tent, he can feel Kai’s heavy gaze on him, caressing the lines of his jaw. He wants to try and hide himself by shoving his face in Kai’s chest, but that would just raise his suspicion. So Kyungsoo settles for watching his hands smooth over his large stomach, smiling to himself as he thinks about what they’re going to name their son.
Kyungsoo scurries inside once their tent is raised and their bed is made up, wanting to lay down and rest his aching legs. Riding all day long is a lose-lose situation, because either his legs hurt when he gets down from the hard-leather saddle or his feet and ankles hurt from walking mile after mile.
He sits down on their bed, sighing with relief and letting his shoulders slump lazily. Kai sits down next to him silently, not even rustling the cloths underneath himself. He reaches over, a calloused hand gently cupping the sensitive skin of Kyungsoo’s cheek, a sad look on his face. “Did Junmyeon do this to you?”
Kyungsoo’s eyes widen, and his stomach sinks to his knees. “Did Sehun tell you?” he mutters, fingers clutching at his pants. He can feel the worry eating through his skin and grating over his organs, his palms restlessly pressing into the tops of his thighs.
“Don’t think I don’t know you, Kyungsoo,” Kai says in a low tone, and the guilt hits him even harder when Kai uses his name. “I will not do anything now because he is your brother, but I swear the next time he hurts you- hell, the next time he even comes near you with his hand raised, I will kill him.”
Kai pulls Kyungsoo towards him, and both of their eyes slowly drift shut as he brushes his lips over Kyungsoo’s damp forehead, his other hand ghosting the small of his back. Kyungsoo can only whisper his reply, the memories of him and his brother playing in the gardens back home running across the back of his closed eyelids, but this time he feels no remorse.
“I won’t stop you.”
//
Kyungsoo gives birth on the Saturday following the summer solstice.
His midwife coaches him through it, telling Kai not to worry that their son is a few weeks early- three, actually- because he’s still full-term. Kyungsoo doesn’t allow his husband in the tent with him, doesn’t want him to see the sweat accumulated at his hairline and way he grits his teeth as he pushes. He doesn’t want Kai to see this side of him.
It is exhausting, and he isn’t able to really start pushing until the chill of night hits them. Kyungsoo doesn’t think he will ever forget the sound of his son’s first cries. Suddenly all the pain, the hours of intense labor and the break in his sanity, it was all worth it.
He holds his son in his arms after some of the others have cleaned him and wrapped him in silk cloth, a hazy smile on his face and the pain between his legs slowly dissipating into nothing. A sheen of joy coats him, something stronger than the buzz of alcohol that creates butterflies in his tummy. It is the eternal bliss of holding his son in his own arms, a boy equal parts him and Kai with Kyungsoo’s lips and Kai’s nose on his tiny face.
He doesn’t notice when Kai comes into the tent, ignoring the strong stench of sweat and blood, and immediately kneels down to wrap his arms around his husband’s narrow shoulders. He can’t take his eyes off their son- not when he’s finally here in the world with them, perfectly curved lips stretching into a smile.
Kai looks to his husband who’s still watching their son, a tiny hand wrapped around his forefinger, and his heart almost explodes in his chest. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved you more than I do right now,” he breathes out, candor rounding his eyes and drawing a glassy cover over them.
Kyungsoo kisses him- exhausted, dirty, with their newborn in his arms, he kisses his husband with the all energy he has left draining from the marrow in his bones.
//
They hold a party a week later in celebration of their son’s birth. The midwife told them that their son’s birth being so close to the summer solstice is a testament to his strength, and both of their hearts swelled with pride.
They name him Rhaek.
The entire clan is in awe of the newborn. This is the Khal’s son, the successor to his throne, the one that will one day lead all Seven Kingdoms. So they raid villages for alcohol and supplies in excitement, preparing for the celebration that they will remember as their Khal leads them into battle.
Kai cannot wipe the smile from his face, even in front of the rest of the Dothraki people; even when he’s by himself. Sometimes Kyungsoo will wake up in the middle of the night, Kai’s arms holding him tightly, and his husband will just be staring at him with a distant look in his eyes. Other nights he wakes up cold, a hard chest missing from under his head, and he will look up to see Kai by the cradle, their son sleeping quietly in his arms.
(Kyungsoo watches him sway gently back and forth, and he knows he couldn’t ask for a better husband and father for his son.)
The sound of a man getting knocked to the ground brings Kyungsoo back from his memories, his eyes blearily focused on nothing. He looks around the party. Everyone from the tribe is here, some dancing to one side of the tent, ignoring the men fighting on the other side, with a fire in the center that is roasting the pig. Kyungsoo and Jongin are sitting on a mountain of pillows and cloths near the back wall, the maroon fabric of the tent adding to the darkness of the night, blocking out the light from the moon and stars.
The atmosphere is loud and noisy and Kyungsoo isn’t so sure that he should have their son in his arms right now with men beating each other to death and men and women grinding together to loud music. But this is a celebration to honor him, and by the way Kai is looking at the two of them, small words of affection hidden behind his lips, Kyungsoo knows that he would protect them from anything.
Some time past the feast, when their bellies are sated and their tongues colored red with wine, the party starts to settle down a bit. Most people are lazing around, having brought their own pillows and cloths from their tents, and have cuddled up with whomever they had decided to take for the night.
Kai leans over shortly after one of the slower songs has ended, pressing his lips against the shell of Kyungsoo’s ear, and whispers, “You have brought me joy that I never knew was possible.”
Kyungsoo can’t stop the smile that blooms across his face or the pink that tints his cheeks, his eyes curving into crescents that hide the full moon of his irises. “I love you,” he whispers back. He doesn’t care that the rest of the tribe can see them as he presses a sloppy kiss to Kai’s lips, careful not to rouse the sleeping boy in his arms.
That’s when they hear it: the hard slam of boots against the ground and loud, muffled groans from beyond the walls of the tent. Everyone in the tent stops what they’re doing, the music gradually dying down, and alert eyes moving to the entrance, watching for signs of an intruder.
Except it’s Junmyeon that stumbles in, face as red and sweaty as the drunkest man here. His slave is right there behind him, trying to pick him off from the ground, embarrassment swelling in his cheeks.
Kyungsoo sighs, and his mood darkens considerably when Junmyeon finally stands up and looks towards them.
“You!” Junmyeon shouts, the word sloppy just like his movements. He points a finger at them, and Kyungsoo is surprised when the tip of his finger isn’t directly in his face. He’s pointing at Kai. “You were supposed to lead me to the Iron Throne!” he screams. Kyungsoo covers Rhaek’s ears with his hand protectively, his brother’s voice projecting around the entire room. Junmyeon draws his sword deftly, and all the occupants of the tent tense at the sight. “I swear, if you don’t give me an army, I will take my brother and I’ll kill your son. I’ll take back the throne myself.”
Kai looks to him confusedly- Junmyeon is speaking so that Kai can’t understand him, just like he always does. Kyungsoo quietly translates for him, whispering it into his husband’s ear while his brother walks around the tent and kicks over golden chalices, his sword still held clumsily in his hand. Kai keeps his countenance stoic, but Kyungsoo can tell by the press of his lips that he’s beyond angry. He’s absolutely seething.
“You should leave,” Kyungsoo suggests boldly when he’s done translating, seeing the sneers on all the faces of his people. It wouldn’t look good for him if his brother did something stupid, especially on the night they are celebrating their son’s birth.
Junmyeon stops in his place, wine spilled over his leather shoes, and his lips twist up even further. “No, I will not leave! I’m tired of playing in the mud with these people that are no better than their horses!” He storms up to their fortress of pillows, but Kai is quick to stand before he can reach Kyungsoo, so Junmyeon turns his attention back to him. “You promised me gold! You promised me a throne! But you’re just here sitting on your ignorant brown ass!”
Kai towers over Junmyeon. His shoulders are broader, eyes intimidating with the black that lines it, paired with the ink on his skin. Not to mention that Junmyeon is soft everywhere Kai is hard, ribs showing through his chest while Kai’s body ripples with muscles. Everyone holds their breath as they await the Khal’s response.
“You want gold?” he asks, and Kyungsoo’s eyes widen because he isn’t speaking Dothraki anymore.
“Yes!” Junmyeon yells back at him, his expression breaking way into satisfaction. “It’s what I’ve wanted the whole time!”
Kai nods stiffly, his shoulders rigid, ribs trying not to bow back to let his anger fill the mold of his body. He doesn’t waste time in slipping out from in front of Junmyeon and swooping down to collect gold chalice after gold chalice, even breaking off some of the gold necklaces that hang around womens’ necks and shucking in his own golden belt.
Kyungsoo doesn’t know where this is headed, but there is dysphoria looming in his gut as Kai drops it all into the pot used to heat the baste that covered the pig. Then he is holding it over the raging fire, the flames licking at the black clay, and when he speaks, it is low and dangerous with abhorrence sprouting like daisies in his lungs.
“You did not stop disrespecting my people from the moment you got here.” His words are broken, consonants split up on his tongue, but there is determination lacing every syllable. “You treat us like we are beneath the dirt on your expensive shoes.” The gold slowly melts down, turning to syrup at the bottom of the pot. “But all you want is iron and gold.”
Junmyeon doesn’t realize that Sehun and Zitao are coming up behind him until they’re grabbing his arms and twisting them so far behind his back that everyone in the tent hears the snap of his bones. They force him to the ground, on his knees in front of where Kai standing, and Junmyeon cries out from the pain in his shoulder. Soo, don’t let them do this!
Kyungsoo ignores his pleas.
It only takes a matter of seconds before the goblets and necklaces are all melted down, boiled into a lustrous, molten liquid. Junmyeon is paralyzed with a combination of fear and anticipation, muscles frozen, and he stays rooted in the position the men have put him in.
“So here is your crown.”
Everyone holds their breath as Kai lifts the pot- Kyungsoo uselessly covers his sleeping son’s eyes, but he continues to look on, and some of the others turn away as the boiling gold slips over the edge of the pot and onto Junmyeon’s face.
The liquid starts steaming as soon as it hits skin, his flesh turning red and blistering, only to be covered by the thick coat of metal. Junmyeon’s screams are loud, blood-curdling and mixed in with streams of curses that sound like they’re coming from the Devil himself. The pus from popped blisters runs faster than the gold does, seeping down his face and dripping into his mouth like the tears he can’t shed because it’s already covered his eyes and burned through the thin skin of his lids.
The gold stops before it can reach his agape mouth, hardening to the shape of his face, and Junmyeon drops to the floor head-first as the last of his screams die in his throat.
Gold is heavy, but at least Junmyeon finally has his crown.
(Kyungsoo feels numb, but somehow he knows there is not a morsel of regret coursing through his blood.)
“He has his golden crown now,” Kai’s voice booms, echoing into the smallest corners of the room, “and my son, the stallion who shall mount the world, will have his silver! He will sit on the Iron Throne!” He glances at his husband, motioning for him to come closer. Kyungsoo does, ignoring the dead body of his brother, and their son still in his arms. “Kyungsoo, you are the moon of my life. You brought light to me when I was walking in the dark, and I will conquer the Seven Kingdoms if it means you will be proud of me like I am of you.”
This is more than a confession of love. This is a publicized promise, a swear that will mark the stone that sits over his ashes. Ripples of encouragement pass over their audience- Kai’s brothers and sisters, the people he has fought for his entire life- and slowly but surely their volume grows until they are chanting Khal so loud that even the stars can hear them.
Kyungsoo smiles as Kai cups his cheeks, languidly pulling him closer so that their son is wedged snuggly between their chests, and knocks their foreheads together. “I love you,” Kai murmurs, eyes dropping to plump lips. “We will sit on the Iron Throne together, won’t we?”
“Of course we will,” Kyungsoo whispers back. He pushes himself up the rest of the way, and even though this is the millionth time they’ve kissed, a throng of butterflies still erupts in his belly. The image of his Kai sitting on the throne forged by his ancestors is already engraved on the backs of his eyelids, and he is sitting beside him, their son on his lap, a crown on all their heads. “Of course we will, my sun and stars.”