The Peninsula

The Fiction and Poetry Archive of Liana Mir and scribblemyname

Kingmaker

Feb
24

Khun children were vicious and ruthless. They were a dangerous family and above all, not kind.

Then Maria sat down and asked Khun Aguero Agnis to help her become the princess of Jahad, and she was the kindest person that Khun had met. He’d been raised to be able to measure a person quickly, and he listened, measured, and at least considered the fact that he’d been raised to make his sister princess.

His sister was vicious and ruthless and dangerous—everything a Khun should be. Maria was different.

“Okay,” he said.


The Tower was just another competition, demanding the regulars be vicious and ruthless, willing to kill anyone that stood in their way. Khun had been born for this.

Then he met Bam—kind, stubborn, loyal Bam who didn’t want to hurt a fly and was willing to fight to the death for others, knowing he was too weak to win. He was good, and Khun measured him with a sort of shocked realization that Maria wasn’t as kind or good as Bam.

“Okay,” he said and set the crown on Bam’s head.

Bought with Blood

Feb
20

Khun Aguero Agnis is a name bought with blood.

His mother gives him, his sister, and Kiseia each their own knife and the opportunity to train. His first instructor says he has an affinity for the spear. His father’s spear. He turns it down and keeps his mother’s knife.

The first time they draw blood is on each other, and it was perhaps the most terrible idea his mother ever had. He bloodies his sisters and bleeds red to each of them.

You’re not a Khun until you survive the battle against your siblings and win, the battle that earns your own name. He bought his name with violence and a knife sharp in hand, blood between his teeth.

When he stabs his sister in the back, sends Maria to Jahad instead of his sister, they throw them out of the family. He keeps the name.

And the knife.

Lazy Days

Feb
20

“Let’s go train, turtles!” Rak announced to the occupants of Khun’s room, that is Bam and Khun.

Khun looked up from his lighthouse work (which he was doing from the comfort of his bed) and blinked. “No, today’s a lazy day.”

Rak scoffed.

Bam looked curious. “What do you mean?”

“Come here.” Khun made room and Bam curled up against him, then sighed softly as he relaxed his head against Khun’s shoulder.

Rak waxed eloquent on the merits of hard work. (Khun was quite familiar with those merits, having been obligated to train hard since his childhood every time another life and death contest loomed.)

Bam burrowed closer and tucked his face against Khun’s neck, clearly quite comfortable.

“Come on, Black Turtle. You and I will go train!”

Bam muttered something indecipherable. Khun smirked.

“What did he say?” Rak demanded.

“He sees the appeal.” Khun stayed on his lighthouse, enjoying Rak’s jaw agape, and plotted and schemed their next victory.

Blue and Gold

Jan
06

Golden moments strung together, sweet and glowing in the light of every good memory Khun had. (more…)

Unfinished Business

Jul
25

Bam was dead.

“Were you eaten by a fish?” It was an inane question. It didn’t matter.

He answered though. “The bull.” (more…)

Challenge

Jul
24

Bam likes Khun’s knife. Likes wrapping his hand around Khun’s wrist and asking without words for— (more…)

Light Me Up

Jul
24

The campfire flickered orange and gold across Khun’s face, bathing him in a wash of light and warmth. He was beautiful. Bam knew he was beautiful, smiling that crooked, smug grin as he pressed Bam’s stick back into his hand, a toasted marshmallow on the end. (more…)

Never Let Go

Jul
21

For a moment, just one long perfect moment, Khun’s arms are around him and Bam still feels like he’s vibrating out of his skin, but he also feels like everything will somehow be okay, because he still has this. (more…)

Non-Believer

Jul
19

“You’re our god,” they say, and it weighs Bam down, hanging heavy on his soul because he never asked to be their god. He never asked to be the one to kill Jahad. (more…)

Between His Teeth

Jul
01

A Khun doesn’t need love. Khun children were fed on ambition and cunning and trained to compete for their lives and their name by the time they were ten. They don’t need affection. They need strength in their limbs and lightning in their bodies and blood between their teeth.

Then Bam looks at Khun Aguero Agnis and tells him, “I didn’t have any friends. Let’s be friends with them.”

There’s something else between his teeth and he can’t decide whether he likes the taste of it, the word coming out before he can hold it in. “Fine.”

He doesn’t need the feeling of Bam’s shoulder between his fingers, but he can’t stop reaching for it. Doesn’t need this sudden warmth in his chest when Bam asks to climb the Tower with them. A Khun doesn’t need love, he tells himself, unwilling to admit he doesn’t still believe it.