"What are you doing?" His deep voice filled your ears comfortably, like it'd already had it's place in your mind. Looking over from the flower you were inspecting, you found Hamza, standing firm, but relaxed if you knew him well enough to tell.

You'd been friends since childhood, your father a high scholar who resided within the palace. The emperor, Hamza's father, had been bedridden for a while, finally passing his title to his son. The emperor's pendant looked good on Hamza.. you had to admit.