Ten Years Later - Present Day
Ruanlin peered around the edge of the division screen, forcing a tight smile on his face as his personal servant turned to him after laying out the prince's midday snack on the low center table. "T-Thank you!" Ruanlin hoped the words sounded even halfway normal. When the servant paused, the prince silently cursed himself - damn, his acting skills were definitely not up to par!
"Are you alright, young master?" The servant asked. "You're looking a bit... flushed."
"I'm fine!" Ruanlin squeaked, and then immediately cleared his throat and tried again. "I'm fine. Really. Thank you! I'm just, uh - that is, I'm just a bit tired."
A quiet huff of laughter came from behind the partition screen partially obscuring Ruanlin, and the servant's eyebrows furrowed. Ruanlin quickly barked a strangled laugh of his own, hoping to distract the servant's suspicions. Thankfully it seemed to work well enough - or, at least, they didn't ask any more questions, only bowing and taking their leave after another concerned glance. As the door clicked shut behind their departing back, a second huff of laughter came from behind the screen.
"Thank the gods," Ruanlin muttered under his breath. He turned and shoved half-heartedly at the man hiding behind the rest of the partition, a broad-chested guard with a head of wild black hair and amber eyes filled with humor. "Xinyue! This isn't funny!"
"Oh come on!" Xinyue said. His hands moved to pull Ruanlin closer by the knees, the guard's fingers slipping further under the prince's robe. "It's at least a little funny. Don't tell me you weren't enjoying yourself a bit. I could feel the evidence myself, you know."
Ruanlin blushed, averting his gaze. "Shut up. I don't even know why you like this sort of thing—you don't even get anything out of it! Really, you're too shameless..."
"Ahh, but I just can't get enough of my young master's cute little co -"
"S - Shut it - !"
" - And of course, your red face is truly too adorable for words -"
"Ugh!" Ruanlin groaned, swatting at Xinyue's broad shoulders until the man finally chuckled and released him. "Stop with all that 'young master' nonsense. We've been best friends since childhood, it's weird! And anyway, you were just groping me under my robes. What sort of servant does that?" He grumbled, fixing the folds of his clothing and patting at his flaming cheeks.
Xinyue shrugged, unapologetic. "Sorry, Ru. You're just too tempting. I'm only a mortal, you know. It's hard to resist such a beautiful face!"
Ruanlin rolled his eyes, but there was no heat to the gesture. Truth be told, he felt lucky that Xinyue paid him this kind of attention, on top of taking the time to drop by just to talk. He was a royal guard now and his schedule was tight, with barely any moments left to rest. The fact that Xinyue still used every second of his free time to visit Ruanlin in the palace, knowing how lonely the prince often felt...
"Thank you," Ruanlin said. "I - I mean it... and not just for *that*."
"Oh, 'that', you say?" Xinyue grinned. "You'll have to be more specific. Is it supposed to be thanks for my stunning personality? Or perhaps, you mean to thank me for using my tongue -"
"Alright, alright!" Ruanlin sighed, exasperated. "I get it, you lecher."
Xinyue clutched his hands to his chest in mock offense. "Such cruel words, wounding me to my very soul!" Before Ruanlin could chastise him any further, however, he winked and hopped to his feet. "Alas, duty calls. I have to get going, the fieldmaster will have a fit if I'm late again."
Even though Ruanlin was always aware that Xinyue's visits would come to an end, it sent a stab of pain through him each time. "Right," he said with a forced smile. "Of course."
"Cheer up! I promise I'll be back soon. Next week at the latest."
Ruanlin nodded, waving a hand in farewell as his friend slipped out the door. As it closed with a final *click*, the prince felt as if a shroud had been dropped over the room, dampening the upbeat mood from moments ago. Now that he was alone, he had nothing to distract him from his thoughts, which were - if he was honest - more than a little miserable lately. Over the last decade, he had both dreaded and waited anxiously for the day he would turn eighteen, knowing what (or rather, who) would be coming for him soon after.
When he had woken from that horrible night with the cultists who kidnapped him, his father had told him everything about his encounter with the demon Varis. Of course, at eight years old, Ruanlin hadn't quite understood. It seemed like something from a nightmare, too fantastical to be real. As he grew, though, that had changed. The memories had come back to him, as vivid and painful as if they had been fresh. He could remember the chanting, the knife slicing into his chest and carving him open. And he remembered the altar. Sometimes, he thought he could recall Varis' voice speaking to him in the darkness, though he was never sure if that was real or just his imagination. Regardless, as the years passed, the reality of his impending fate grew, like a noose growing tighter around his neck.
Ruanlin's father had tried for years to figure out how to dissolve the deal in a way that wouldn't harm the prince, but every effort had been in vain. King Zhongfu even went so far as to summon lesser demons to the court in hopes one of them would somehow have a solution, but as soon as any mention of Varis was made, they would blanch and fall silent. Finally, after one such summoning ended in the demon breaking free and killing six guardsmen before it could be recaptured, Ruanlin had begged his father to stop. Reluctantly, Zhongfu agreed, and from that point on he had done his best to prepare his son for whatever the future might hold once Varis came for him.
Ruanlin had studied everything he could get his hands on. Languages of other cultures and their customs, magic and sigils that might protect him from a demon's wrath, and most importantly, any information he could find about Varis. There wasn't much of the latter, unfortunately. Ruanlin was sure there must have been more records once, but the cultists who worshipped Varis had all but disappeared in the years since that fateful night, and most of the written stories regarding the demon king had vanished along with them. Even his father's personal library was woefully lacking. In the end, the prince had been left with little more than rumors, old stories that were more legend than fact, and Varis' brand still marking his chest.
Ruanlin ran his thumb over it now. It was smooth against the surrounding skin, but the markings were slightly warmer than the rest of his body. With each year, the design had slowly begun to turn from black to red, and the crimson shade now resembled the color of fresh blood. It was almost as bright as Ruanlin's hair - the signature shade of the royal family, all descended from the Sun clan. In his childhood, Ruanlin had somewhat hated it - the way the red strands made him stand out so much. Once, at sixteen, he had let Xinyue talk him into dressing in peasant clothing and sneaking out of the palace. And yet, Ruanlin had been quickly and easily recognized - all because someone in the crowd of the night market had glimpsed a few strands of his hair. Xinyue, of course, had thought the whole thing to be quite funny, though at the time Ruanlin was mortified, and he hadn't spoken to his best friend for a week in retaliation.
Looking back on it, his anger seemed so silly now. Stupid, to have wasted a whole week away from his friend, all because of some embarrassment over the way he looked. Since he'd turned eighteen last month, Ruanlin had treasured every precious second he was able to spend with his loved ones, knowing there was no guarantee he would ever see his family or friends again after Varis came to take him away. There was no telling how much longer he had. A week? A day? An hour? That was what burdened him the most: not knowing when everything would come to an end. After all, Varis had not specified when exactly he would come for Ruanlin - only that he would claim the prince after he turned eighteen.
As if the thought itself acted as some sort of catalyst, a sudden, sharp pain in Ruanlin's chest made him wince, and there came a sharp knock on the door. When he turned, it was to find another servant hurriedly sticking their head through, looking frazzled, "My prince! His highness has requested your presence immediately in the throne room, please make haste!"
Ruanlin's blood froze. "What - why?"
"I'm not sure, young master. I was only told to fetch you immediately, so please -"
"I understand." Ruanlin struggled to keep the trepidation off his face as he quickly threw on an outer robe and pulled back his hair with a ribbon before following the servant. It couldn't be. But of course it *had* to be, for surely his father would not call on him like this with such urgency unless it was something to do with Varis? There was no other explanation, and as much as Ruanlin wanted to keep telling himself it wasn't so, deep down he knew. In truth, he had known from the moment that pain had flared to life in the mark on his chest like a warning.
He was out of time. Varis had come to collect his prize at last.