Broken Treaty

Midorino Mizu and Murasaki

Disclaimer: Tennis no Ohjisama is the property of Konomi Takeshi.

Author’s Note: First in Imperial Crack-verse.

***

Sanada Genichirou raised an eyebrow slightly and calmly met the infuriated blue eyes of the boy across the table. The negotiations were not proceeding as planned, and he placed the blame for that solely on the shoulders of the prince seated opposite him.

Atobe Keigo of Hyoutei was only fifteen, but he was already proving that he would be far more troublesome than his father, the king, had ever managed to be. He was intelligent, that much was obvious, and very proud.

Beautiful, too, the Emperor of Rikkai thought as Prince Atobe tossed his light brown hair back and glared haughtily at him, his cheeks flushed with anger.

“This…treaty,” the teenaged boy said, tossing the sheaf of papers on the table with an elegant flip of his wrist, “is unacceptable. It asks Hyoutei to surrender all of its rights!”

The Hyoutei translator was beginning to look nervous, Sanada noticed. His voice shook a bit as he relayed his prince’s words.

Sanada inclined his head. “King Tarou accepted the terms,” he said. King Sakaki, he thought, for all his pride, and even with his growing insanity, had accepted that Hyoutei was no match for Rikkai.

Hyoutei was a small kingdom, mostly insignificant, but it possessed the best ports in the region, and that was making trade difficult for the much larger, much more formidable Rikkai Empire.

It was likely that they could have struck an equitable deal with the tiny kingdom, but Sanada didn’t see much point in that; it was far better to control Hyoutei’s resources personally. And an intimidating “treaty” was less expensive than a war.

But it seemed that Atobe Keigo would not accept that kind of blow to his pride.

“You would be wise to reconsider, you highness,” Sanada said, almost gently. “I don’t think you would like the consequences.”

Atobe scowls at the Emperor for a moment, before his lips twist into a bitter smirk. “Hyoutei is not Rikkai’s whore, Sanada Genichirou, and I will not tolerate it being treated as such.”

Atobe’s translator hesitated, and then began to speak, translating Atobe’s hot words into more diplomatic terms.

“Ohtori,” said the prince sharply. “Tell them exactly what I said. Exactly.”

Ohtori turned pale, but followed his orders, his voice shaking slightly as he looked at the powerful emperor of Rikkai. Sanada nodded his acknowledgement.

Atobe rose elegantly to his feet. “These negotiations are over,” he said. He smiled, a sharp smile that had nothing to do with joy and everything to do with pride. “Bring your armies, Your Majesty. You’ll find that Hyoutei is more formidable than it appears.”

Without another word, he swept from the room, his formal robes trailing elegantly behind him, followed by the still-pale translator and his longhaired companion. Sanada watched his departing figure for a moment before turning to the man on his right.

“We will discuss this when we return to the palace,” he said.

“Certainly, Your Majesty,” agreed Yanagi Renji. He stood with the Emperor, staring thoughtfully in the direction that the Prince of Hyoutei had disappeared in.

Atobe Keigo, he thought, would be trouble. He could feel it.

***

As soon as he rounded the corner, and was out of the Rikkai Emperor’s sight, a shadow of worry fell over Keigo’s expression.

“What’s wrong?” asked his cousin and best friend, Shishido Ryoh. “You were correct; that ‘treaty’ was practically an unconditional surrender. I don’t know what His Majesty was thinking when he agreed to it, even tentatively.”

“Father isn’t well,” said Keigo, pinning Shishido with an icy blue stare. “You know that perfectly well.

“And it’s…probably correct that Hyoutei is weaker than Rikkai. Considerably so.” His brow furrowed. His father still should have been able to arrange something that didn’t necessitate a complete loss of Hyoutei’s identity.

Whatever was wrong with Sakaki of Hyoutei, he thought, whatever had driven him insane, was much worse, and had been around longer than anyone had suspected.

“I’m going to see him,” Atobe said abruptly. “You may do whatever you wish with the rest of the day.”

He needed to see his father; he needed answers.

The man he had known, he thought as he strode through the halls would have never tolerated such a thing; his father had been just as proud as he was, once. Once, he would have never permitted Rikkai, no matter its power, to destroy his own country without so much as a protest.

But King Tarou wasn’t the man he had known anymore, he thought as he stepped quietly into his father’s chambers. His father was gone, replaced by this man with vacant stares and blank smiles.

“Ah, Keigo,” the man said. “Kind of you to come and visit.”

“Father,” Keigo said smoothly. He moved forward, pressing a light kiss to his father’s cheek. “How are you?”

He didn’t know, he thought with a soft sigh, why he thought Sakaki would be able to tell him anything. It was a good day if his father could remember his name.

On the bad days the older man blithely told him that he was too pretty to look so sad.

“I’m well,” said Tarou with a cheerfulness he had never had before his mind had been lost. “But you still look so worried. You’re far too young to be worrying about things.”

Keigo’s smile slipped. “I’ll try not to, Father.” He paused. “Have you slept today?”

Tarou shook his head.

“You should,” Keigo continued, resting his hands on the other man’s shoulders. “You need to rest.”

Tarou looked as though he was about to protest, before he shrugged and let Keigo lead him to his bed.

He didn’t speak until he lied down, and Keigo was drawing the covers over him. He reached up a hand, running his fingers lightly through his son’s straight, silky hair. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

Keigo’s eyebrows furrowed. “Sorry for what, Father?”

“You need help,” Tarou said. “And I can’t give it to you. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” Keigo sighed. “Don’t worry about it, Father; I’ll be fine. It’s…nothing, really.”

Nothing that Tarou of Hyoutei could help him with, at any rate, not anymore.

Whatever was coming, Atobe Keigo would have to handle himself.

***

Emperor Sanada Genichirou strode through his halls, his face expressionless, walking swiftly towards his rooms.

His best friend and closest advisor, Yanagi Renji followed closely behind, warning servants and court advisors alike not to mention the peace talks with Hyoutei, with no more than a brief glance. He wasn’t sure what exactly Genichirou was thinking, which was a rarity. He did, however, recognize that his best friend was interested – very interested – in the young, hotheaded prince of the Hyoutei kingdom.

What that meant, exactly…well, Renji wasn’t quite as sure.

“We’ll have to take Hyoutei by force,” the Emperor said abruptly as Renji closed the door behind him.

His advisor merely raised his eyebrows.

“Atobe Keigo will one day be a strong leader,” Sanada continued. “He is strong already, but young.

“He’ll be a threat to Rikkai if he’s allowed to continue.”

Renji nodded. “That’s true, Your Majesty. But we should not conquer Hyoutei…yet. They are expecting it.

Wait six months,” he asked. “That will give me time to gather information on the kingdom and the court.

Sanada nodded. “As you say, Renji. I trust your judgment.” He paused, his intense dark gaze suddenly on his chief advisor. “But I want any and all information you get on the Prince.”

Renji inclined his head. “I will send my best spy to Hyoutei immediately.”

“You do that,” Sanada said. He rose to his feet, indicating that the conversation was at an end. Renji bowed slightly, and made to leave.

“Renji,” Sanada called. His best friend didn’t turn, merely paused his hand still curved over the door handle.

“When we defeat Hyoutei,” the Emperor said, “I want Atobe Keigo brought to me. Unspoiled.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Renji murmured as he stepped outside.

Yes, he thought for the second time that day, as he closed the door behind him. Prince Atobe Keigo of the Kingdom of Hyoutei was going to be trouble.