knight's Royal Duty || Gonkillu ||

《Supervision》

The next few days were suffocating.

Supervision wasn't new to Killua. He had lived his whole life with people watching his every move, recording every misstep, and reporting back to his mother like clockwork. But this time, it was different. This time, the weight of those eyes bore down even harder, not just on him, but on Gon too.

The royal palace had a way of amplifying silence. Every footstep echoed too loudly in the long corridors, every word felt like a shout, no matter how quietly spoken. Killua could feel the ever-present gaze of the palace guards, the royal advisors, and, worst of all, his mother’s spies. Even when they weren’t physically there, their presence was felt like a ghostly chill in the air.

Gon, ever the dutiful guard, said nothing about it. But Killua could see it in the way Gon moved—more carefully, more cautiously. The air of ease that had started to develop between them had evaporated, replaced by an unspoken tension neither of them could shake. Every time Killua tried to speak to Gon, there was a pause, as if both of them were waiting for some unseen listener to make a note of it.

They were never alone, not truly.

On the third day, Killua snapped.

It was during one of his usual walks through the palace gardens, Gon trailing a few steps behind. The gardens were usually a place of solace for Killua, a brief escape from the marble and gold that made up the rest of the palace. But today, even the bright flowers and neatly trimmed hedges couldn’t ease the pressure building inside him.

He whirled around suddenly, startling Gon, who had been quietly watching the path ahead.

“Can’t we just talk?!” Killua’s voice was sharp, his frustration bubbling over. “I mean, without—” He gestured vaguely toward the palace, his hands trembling with anger. “Without them always listening? Without someone breathing down our necks all the time?”

Gon blinked, surprised by the outburst, but his expression quickly softened. “Killua...”

“No!” Killua cut him off, his fists clenched at his sides. “I can’t take it anymore! I’m tired of pretending like I don’t see them—like I don’t feel them watching. Every. Single. Day.”

Gon remained silent, letting Killua vent his frustration. He knew that saying anything now would only make Killua feel more caged. Instead, he waited, his calm presence acting as a silent anchor for the storm brewing in Killua’s chest.

“I hate this!” Killua continued, his voice rising. “I hate how they control everything—what I do, what I say, even how I breathe! And now... now you’re stuck in this too. It’s not fair.”

Gon stepped closer, his brow furrowed in concern. “Killua, I—”

Before he could finish, a familiar voice echoed across the garden.

“Killua!”

The sharpness in the tone was unmistakable. Killua froze, his body going rigid as he turned toward the source of the voice. His mother stood at the entrance to the garden, her flawless face set in an expression of cool disappointment. Behind her, a small entourage of advisors and guards stood, their eyes trained on Killua and Gon.

“I thought I made it clear that you were to be on your best behavior,” the queen said, her voice dripping with icy authority. “Or perhaps you’ve forgotten who you are.”

Killua bit down hard on his tongue, resisting the urge to scream. He had learned long ago that fighting his mother openly was a losing battle. Her words were like needles, carefully aimed to prick at his insecurities, to remind him of his place.

“I didn’t forget,” Killua muttered through gritted teeth. He glanced at Gon, whose face remained neutral, though Killua could see the tension in his posture.

The queen’s eyes flicked toward Gon, and her lips curled into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “It seems your personal guard has forgotten his place as well. Perhaps I should remind him.”

Something snapped in Killua at those words. He stepped forward, his voice coming out sharper than he intended. "He hasn’t done anything wrong. If you want to punish someone, punish me.”

The queen raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by his outburst. “Punish you? Oh, Killua, you misunderstand. This isn’t about punishment. This is about control.”

The word hung in the air like a noose, tightening around Killua’s chest. Control. That’s all it had ever been about. His life wasn’t his own, it never had been. And now Gon was getting caught in the same web.

But Gon, for his part, remained composed. He gave a small bow to the queen, his voice steady as he spoke. “Your Majesty, I assure you, I have not forgotten my place. My only concern is the prince’s well-being.”

The queen’s smile widened, though it was more predatory than warm. “Of course. But remember, guard, you serve at my pleasure. Don’t forget who holds your leash.”

With that, she turned on her heel, her entourage following her back toward the palace. Killua watched them go, his entire body tense with barely restrained anger. He could feel Gon’s eyes on him, but he didn’t turn to meet his gaze.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Killua finally broke the silence, his voice low and tight. “This is what I mean. This is what it’s always like. No matter what I do, no matter what I say, she controls everything.”

Gon didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence calming as ever. “You’re not alone, Killua.”

Those words again—words that had become a lifeline in the suffocating darkness. Killua wanted to believe them, but how could he, when every day felt like a battle he couldn’t win?

“I feel alone,” Killua admitted quietly, his voice barely audible. “Even with you here... I feel like I’m drowning.”

Gon’s hand came to rest gently on Killua’s shoulder, a grounding touch in the midst of the chaos swirling around him. “I’m here. And as long as I’m here, you won’t drown.”

Killua didn’t have the energy to argue. He closed his eyes, taking a slow, steadying breath. For now, all he could do was hold on to those words, even if the weight of the world threatened to pull him under.