Chapter Text
The sun could not quite be said to be shining, half hidden by clouds as it were.
It had been two days ago that Taekwoon had truly woke, and he felt well enough to sit up today, ignoring the doctor's protests.
"You are a fool," Jaehwan had flatly informed him, even more so when Taekwoon had refused the tea which would ease his pain—because it kept putting him to sleep. "You need sleep, and rest—what are you even going to do, sitting up? If you tear the wound you can explain it to the Emperor."
Taekwoon had merely stared at him and waited for him to quiet and walk away, huffy.
Hakyeon had been by less now that Taekwoon was awake, than he had been when Taekwoon had yet to truly return to the land of the living, for now Taekwoon could forbid him from coming so often. It was Jaehwan who had told him this, how often Hakyeon had sat by Taekwoon's side, how often the Emperor himself had insisted on helping Jaehwan to tend to Taekwoon in any and every way possible.
For Jaehwan had been that third presence in the room, the day that Taekwoon had first awoken. It had been he who had remained by Taekwoon when Hakyeon had been unable to, and it had been he who had been the only one present when Taekwoon had woken for that third time.
For Jaehwan had been the one who had left his quarters, drawn by the commotion, only to find Hakyeon and Taekwoon surrounded by at least ten dead men, and to see that despite the blood, Taekwoon was still breathing.
That night, it could have only been heaven's intervention that had saved Taekwoon's life. Perhaps the gods had seen his willingness to lay down his life as reason to give him a chance at another, but whatever it was that had driven heaven's hand, Jaehwan had rushed forward and crouched down by a sobbing Hakyeon.
"He's still alive!" Jaehwan had all but yelled, and his mind was racing as he nearly had to pry Taekwoon's still body from Hakyeon's grasp, before Hakyeon came to his senses and carried Taekwoon himself. Even now, Jaehwan did not know what it was that had given him the will or courage to have done what he did, because even as he shoved a list of medicines in one girl's hands and sent Hakyeon to his chambers, there was no guarantee that this man in front of him would live. It was the bleeding they had to stop first—that was one of the quickest ways a man could die. Jaehwan had never seen it, had only ever read it. So much of what he had done that night was from things he had only ever read.
He had not known then that the man he had yelled at to fetch the box from his room was the man who was to be Emperor—but looking back, even if he had, he might have done the same thing. For it was truly as if Jaehwan had only been a tool of heaven's intervention, had been acting with something beyond his own will.
People had come for Hakyeon not long after that, although it would be hours after Jaehwan learned that it was the former Fourth Prince and his cousin that he had come upon, before Jaehwan would begin to grasp the true magnitude of what he had done, and it was not only because there had been a patient to tend to.
Though it had been scant weeks ago, it already felt like a lifetime past. It was, in a way, a new era—the beginning of a new emperor's reign, the second in not so many years. Jaehwan had tried to defer Taekwoon's care to a doctor far more qualified than he, but Hakyeon had asked Jaehwan to stay—and what could one do but obey in the presence of one's emperor?
But Taekwoon was most certainly not Jaehwan's emperor, and Jaehwan could yell at him all he wanted for being far more trouble awake than he had been delirious or unconscious. Although it was like yelling at a brick wall for all the good it did. Perhaps Taekwoon would be more willing to listen to the Emperor—Jaehwan made a mental note to himself to ask.
It was true that it hurt, but bearably so. And although Taekwoon had always liked to sleep, there was only so much time one could spend lying down before it grated. He'd thought to ask for a book, but he was sure that Jaehwan would not only refuse, he would also provide yet another litany for why Taekwoon was an addled fool and the worst patient one could ever have. His reasons were starting to repeat, and Taekwoon was tired of listening to them. But for all that Jaehwan complained, he was endlessly patient tending to Taekwoon, even through things that Taekwoon was himself embarrassed of. He'd been even more embarrassed to learn how often Hakyeon had tended to him as well, when Taekwoon had yet to truly wake. He cares for you, the Emperor, Jaehwan had said, a few words slipped within a long conversation with himself. Anyone would envy such love. Taekwoon had said nothing to that, could only flush and swallow, and Jaehwan himself did not seem to have truly registered his own words. Trees pay no mind to the petals it scatters, nor do rivers notice the petals it carries, but the boy by the stream who catches the pale pink petals in his hands will note every one.
He had been surprised when he realised it was not only Hakyeon's quarters that he was sleeping in, but that it was also Hakyeon's bed.
"It seemed foolish to move you," Hakyeon had said when Taekwoon had noted this. "And...I have a new residence now." The emperor's residence.
But even without the medicine to dull the pain, Taekwoon's body knew it needed the rest regardless of Taekwoon's will, and it was not long before Taekwoon drifted again to sleep. And so it was that the hours passed.
For all that chaos had reigned not so many days ago, the palace was a peaceful one. Quieter, perhaps, for what had happened. The moon was low and barely risen, but the night was still early and lights burned everywhere in windows. There was little sound from beyond the windows, which may have been why Taekwoon was tugged gently from sleep. He'd slept so much during the day, even as he'd tried to stay awake, that it was hard to stay asleep for long.
Between the soups and medicines and rest, Taekwoon seemed to be stronger every time he awoke. He could sit up without help now, and he did so, although it was not without a wince of pain he did not bother to hide in the darkness, and certainly not without effort. There were no lamps on in his—Hakyeon's—room, which only drew Taekwoon further towards the light. He could hear the soft murmur of voices. Perhaps Hakyeon was speaking to Jaehwan, as Taekwoon had been asleep. It didn't quite sound like Hakyeon though, or any voice that Taekwoon knew.
His bare feet made no sound as he made his way down the short hall—he pulled up short at what he saw. Taekwoon hadn't meant to make a sound, but he must have taken too loud a breath, as he stared at Jaehwan's back, his clothes slid halfway down to his waist, at the flower tattooed like a painting over his shoulder blade.
"Well this is awkward," and this was the voice that Taekwoon did not know.
Jaehwan snatched at his clothes, tugging it back up, almost jumping off of the other man's lap. His face was faintly pink in the orange light, his hair slightly ruffled, and the slick wetness of Jaehwan's lips belied what it was that Taekwoon had walked in on.
"I'll…" Taekwoon made a half-hearted gesture back towards the room, and he would have walked faster could he have. As it were, his pace was painfully slow, and gave him ample time to feel his own face flush.
He sat down on the bed, and briefly thought of lying down and feigning sleep for all the good that would do. There was the sound of the door opening and then closing, and Taekwoon knew that the other man must have left.
"Next time," Jaehwan said shortly, "you can knock."
Taekwoon looked up at him a little wide-eyed, not least because there had been no door closed to speak of. "You're…" he said instead, a little hesitant to say it.
"A concubine? Yes. And before that I was a doctor's son. Will there be a problem?" Jaehwan said. He drew himself up almost proudly, his eyes defiant as he stared down at Taekwoon. "The Emperor knows, if that's what you're worried about."
Taekwoon shook his head mutely. I was surprised, he thought to say, but he supposed that his face said it all right now, as much as he tried to hide it. He also thought to say: is that why you're so young as well as you're old, for a concubine, because from the glimpse of Jaehwan's lord that Taekwoon had caught, he had not looked very old himself, not much older than Taekwoon and Hakyeon at best.
The door opened again, and both Taekwoon and Jaehwan turned to look towards it—it was Hakyeon this time, and his eyebrows arched slightly as he took them both in.
"My Lord," Jaehwan said, immediately bowing.
"Stay," Hakyeon said to Taekwoon, even as he nodded acknowledgement to Jaehwan. Taekwoon, meekly, sat back down.
"My Lord," Taekwoon still said, but without the bow.
Hakyeon almost seemed to sigh, although the corners of his mouth did tighten. But his expression soon softened, particularly as he turned towards Jaehwan.
"I saw Lord Sanghyuk," Hakyeon said to Jaehwan, and from the small hitches of surprise from both of them, Hakyeon quickly surmised that he had been correct, that Sanghyuk had just left these rooms not long ago. A flash of something that might have been called guilt passed over Jaehwan's features, but Hakyeon's smile and tone was nothing but gentle, albeit a little teasing. Not quite fitting for an emperor, but Hakyeon hadn't been one for so very long. And Jaehwan had seen him in states far less befitting.
"It seems like your lord would rather not be forced to entertain himself without you," Hakyeon said. A thought seemed to come over him, his brows creasing for just a moment before the smile returned. "Go back with him. Come in the morning, check in with Taekwoon twice a day but no more. Someone will fetch you if something seems wrong. Do you understand?"
Jaehwan's mouth had been open to protest, but now it snapped shut as he bowed. "Yes, my Lord," he said. He didn't wait for Hakyeon to speak again before he took his leave.
Only when the door had closed for some time, and it was clear that they were alone, did Hakyeon sink down to sit next to Taekwoon on the bed with a sigh.
"How did I do, did I sound like an emperor?" Hakyeon asked.
Taekwoon laughed softly. He didn't resist as Hakyeon drew him closer, until Taekwoon was leaning against Hakyeon. It took him several moments for the word emperor to click through Taekwoon's mind, and it was how formally Hakyeon was dressed that truly did it, that reminded Taekwoon he was leaning against an emperor. But Taekwoon couldn't quite bring himself to draw away, and he quickly relaxed against Hakyeon again, letting Hakyeon smooth his thumb against the back of Taekwoon's hand.
"Jaehwan is skilled, even if he isn't a true doctor," Hakyeon finally said.
"He's young," Taekwoon said.
"I've offered to pay for his training to become one, but it seems like Sanghyuk is quite taken with him—and Jaehwan is, likewise."
"Yes," Taekwoon said drily. "It seems so."
Hakyeon laughed at that, drew an arm around Taekwoon to pull him just a little closer, mindful of his injuries. It had startled Taekwoon to realise how many there had been—it had startled him even further to find that they had all but healed, leaving red welts of scars behind in place of raw wounds. He had lingered barely on the edge of the world of the living for far too long.
"How are you feeling?" Hakyeon asked.
"Well," Taekwoon said. "You don't need to worry."
"You did nearly die," Hakyeon said. There was a pause, here, and for the first time since Taekwoon had woken, Hakyeon spoke the words that had been in both their hearts aloud. "I thought you had died."
There were no words that Taekwoon could speak in answer to that. He could only lean against Hakyeon a little more, revel in his warmth. Turn his hand so his palm was upwards, catch Hakyeon's hand in his, give it a light squeeze. They had both thought that Taekwoon had died, but he had not, and he was very much alive.
"Heaven brought you Jaehwan," Hakyeon said softly. He murmured this into Taekwoon's hair, and the tenderness there screamed a wrongness in Taekwoon, but he shoved it away and cherished it instead.
"I owe him a debt," Taekwoon said.
"We both owe him a greater debt than we can ever pay," Hakyeon said.
It did not seem right, for an emperor to care so much for a single person, when that single person held no power in the greater scheme of things. For Hakyeon to be in debt to someone for Taekwoon's sake—it did not seem right. But again, Taekwoon shoved it away, held Hakyeon's hand even tighter. There was little he could do or say to change Hakyeon's mind, nor could he change the past—nor did Taekwoon wish to change the past. He could not bear to think of leaving Hakyeon to carry this burden alone, even as he had been ready to—but it had been the only way he had had at that moment to allow Hakyeon to go on at all.
Such thoughts did not seem right for such a night, and these too did Taekwoon push away. He knew he should tell Hakyeon to leave, to return, to rest, but Taekwoon wanted to be selfish, wanted to ask Hakyeon to stay. Taekwoon had always been a selfish person.
But if Taekwoon was selfish, then Hakyeon was as well. He wanted more than anything than to remain here, cloistered in these walls, a brief moment of reprieve from the world that had come crashing down on him unawares.
There was no sound but for the sound of their breaths, and the occasional sound from the burning lamp, quiet and all but unheard. It was an odd silence, without a single footstep from even outside. Perhaps there were the calls of night birds from the gardens, but they could not be heard from here, and any birds perched on trees nearby were asleep with the sun. The moon was unlikely to rise much further today, and so it was dark as well as quiet, beyond these walls, as if the world outside had truly melted away.
Hakyeon would have sighed, but he swallowed it, merely let himself feel the rhythm of Taekwoon's breaths instead. Steady, calm, and so very present. So very alive.
Time flowed with no man to call master, and would do so until the end of time itself. It neither slowed nor quickened—time itself had no hand in man's perception. Time was constant in its presence, and none could escape it, and none could grasp it and will it to linger, just a few moments longer.
It was Hakyeon who stirred in time, who gently had Taekwoon straighten, half asleep as Taekwoon had already been.
"Go back to sleep," Hakyeon said, as Taekwoon blinked with sleep-dulled eyes.
"You'll go?" Taekwoon asked. His words were half mumbled, but he followed Hakyeon's soft push for him to lie back on the bed, did not resist Hakyeon pulling the blankets back over Taekwoon.
"Only for now," Hakyeon reassured him. He looked down at Taekwoon as he straightened, and was almost taken aback at how very childlike Taekwoon was at this moment, vulnerable and almost helpless, with seemingly nothing to cling to but Hakyeon. The thought brought with it both a strange joy mired deep in guilt, and guilt wrapped heavily in regret. Taekwoon blinked slowly, all the signs of sleep tugging again at his consciousness.
"You'll come back?" Taekwoon mumbled, and his eyes had already shut, and Hakyeon could not say how much of Taekwoon's words were truly conscious, and how much of them were already from a dream.
"Of course," Hakyeon said. Just as you said you would come back for me.
"Damn!"
"I told you, this was stupid."
Taekwoon glared up at Jaehwan, even as his breaths came heavily, and pain pierced through his body like a thousand swords. His body was heavier than lead and it was despite himself that he'd sank to the ground, his legs trembling and no longer able to hold him up, his arms too weak to cling to the wall. It was all that they could do to hold him upright so he did not slump on the floor entirely, as he tried to quiet his harsh breaths. He regretted the outburst even before it had left his mouth, but there was little he could do to take it back.
He looked up at Jaehwan, seated by the table as he sipped at tea. He was dressed in fine silks, a gold ornament in his hair, so unlike how Taekwoon had first seen him, although he was still as insufferable, if not more so. Hakyeon had told him to check in with Taekwoon not more than twice a day, but that had been a week ago and Jaehwan apparently had little more to amuse himself with than to impose himself on Taekwoon's company. Nor was there much Taekwoon could do but to suffer it, because he couldn't chase him out, physically, or with a clear conscience.
So here Jaehwan was, seated at Taekwoon's table, watching as Taekwoon attempted to walk the length of his chambers without support. It had not been going well.
"You cannot rush your body," Jaehwan said, wisely, in imitation of an old man far more qualified than himself. Taekwoon had to stop himself from snarling at him.
It wasn't so much the wound—any of them, although he'd gotten an earful from both Jaehwan and Hakyeon when he'd managed to reopen it, just a little. It was that his body didn't have the strength. He could stay awake for stretches of a time now, hours of sitting by the window before sleep took hold of him almost as a compulsion. He could feed himself and wash himself and dress himself—and that had been a relief, when he'd finally been able to. He could read, at times, although he would tire after only a few pages, and have to place the book down and shut his eyes.
But moving, walking for any distance, still seemed so far out of his grasp.
It took him a good minute to catch his breath before he could stand. He could feel Jaehwan's eyes follow him as he made his slow way back to the chair set by the window, gripping at wall and table for support.
Perhaps Jaehwan was right, but Taekwoon had always been stubborn, and no one could fault him for at least trying.
It was late afternoon, and so neither of them expected the door to open without warning. Only one person would enter without first knocking, and Taekwoon and Jaehwan both shared a look before Jaehwan hastily stood.
"My lord," Jaehwan said, bowing immediately.
Taekwoon, obediently, stayed seated, even before Hakyeon would snap at him to. "My lord," Taekwoon said nonetheless, and Hakyeon's cheek tightened slightly as he looked at Taekwoon.
"You shouldn't be here," Taekwoon said flatly.
"And why is that?" Hakyeon motioned at Jaehwan to sit back down, although Hakyeon himself remained standing. Jaehwan, caught between the two, stepped back out of sight instead.
"You have things to do," Taekwoon said, as if it should be obvious. His glance flickered towards Jaehwan, and Jaehwan might've jumped a little, so sharp Taekwoon's look was—it frightened him a little more that it was no doubt the look that Taekwoon was directing towards the Emperor.
Hakyeon held Taekwoon's gaze easily, for as sharp as it could be to a stranger, it was familiar as it could be to Hakyeon. If anything, Hakyeon found it amusing, adorable in some ways, because it was a glare that had changed little since childhood.
"I'll take my leave," Jaehwan said from behind Hakyeon. He had no wish to be caught in a lover's quarrel—in the metaphorical sense. They could certainly argue like a pair at times. But first: "my lord, you might wish to tell him that rest is important." Jaehwan had long since dropped any sort of honourifics when it came to Taekwoon and was consistently bordering on rude, but Hakyeon seemed to derive slight amusement from it and Taekwoon could do nothing but seethe in annoyance over something he barely cared about. Regardless, Jaehwan quickly bowed again and departed, before Taekwoon could uncharacteristically yell at him for it. If there was one thing Jaehwan had learned over this past week or so, it was that Taekwoon wasn't the yelling type.
"Rest is important?" Hakyeon arched an eyebrow as he sat down on the bed, once Jaehwan had left. "What were you doing now?"
Taekwoon set his jaw, looking steadfastly away from Hakyeon.
"Taekwoon."
From the way this window was set, there was nothing to see, and its only purpose was to let in light. Taekwoon stared outside anyway.
"Taekwoon."
"I don't like it," Taekwoon finally said. "In here."
Hakyeon stood, the smooth sound of silk betraying his movement as he came towards Taekwoon. Taekwoon did not look towards him, even when Hakyeon's hand came to rest on Taekwoon's arm. He'd taken to wearing his earrings again, and they glinted silver in the afternoon sunlight, although Hakyeon did not dare to brush his fingers against them, as much as he would've liked to.
There was little he could say to comfort Taekwoon. Taekwoon had always been active, as a child and as a youth, and Hakyeon could only imagine what it was like for him to be cooped up like this, with only Jaehwan and the serving girls and Hakyeon's occasional presence to serve as any change—although Hakyeon suspected that the lack of companionship was not something which grated for Taekwoon. But Taekwoon would not want to show weakness, would not want to venture outside—and even if he did, where would he go? What was there in distance of how far he could walk? There was little Hakyeon could say, and all he could do was squeeze a little tighter at Taekwoon's arm.
But still: "just as surely will the sun rise and the dawn come," Hakyeon said softly. This brought a small hitch of movement, although Taekwoon still did not turn towards him.
"I could say the same to you," Taekwoon said. His words were still directed outwards, but there was no need to speak them to Hakyeon, when Hakyeon would surely know. Nor did he think he could meet Hakyeon's eyes at this very moment.
Hakyeon let out a deep breath. He let his weight lean against Taekwoon, still careful. Let his arm come about Taekwoon, draw Taekwoon just a little towards him. The window was open but there was no one to see, and Hakyeon allowed himself this small selfish space before he drew away.
"You are right," Hakyeon said, his words measured and soft. "No matter how dark the night, the sun will still rise."
"Whether fire or stars paints the sky at night, the monkey on the mountain still calls with loss," Taekwoon murmured. An image of the moon from that night passed through his mind—he could not recall if he had seen the moon, since. Fire had painted that night, and for Hakyeon, the night yet lasted, and dawn was still hidden behind thick clouds.
"I wanted to see you awake," Hakyeon said.
"You could wake me up," Taekwoon said. Hakyeon laughed softly at that, a little fond. He sat back on the bed, traced out Taekwoon's profile with his eyes, shadowed against the afternoon sun.
"Rest is important," Hakyeon said, a mimicry of Jaehwan. Taekwoon snorted.
"I'd rather see you," he said plainly. He'd turned to Hakyeon as he said this, and just as quickly turned away, mouth clamping shut. Even now, it seemed odd to say such things.
But then: "come tonight," Taekwoon said, and the words seemed to be coming from somewhere else—as if a wish tugged out by Hakyeon himself, although Taekwoon could not have known such things. "I'll sleep now. Wake me when you come."
His words hung in the air for long moments, and it was long moments later that Taekwoon turned to meet Hakyeon's eyes. They were shining faintly, and Hakyeon quickly blinked several times, smiled.
"If you so command," Hakyeon said, as if the playful tone could hide the sound of his heart beating so loud in this space with only the two of them. "But only if you rest now."
Hakyeon stood and gestured towards the bed, and Taekwoon met his eyes with a slight smile as he moved towards it. He was weary—his brief attempts of freedom had only dragged down exhaustion. He waited for Hakyeon to leave, but he did no such thing, and with an exasperated exhale, Taekwoon climbed back into bed and lay down, the motion slow and still drawing out a long ache of pain.
Hakyeon's smile was strangely wistful as he looked down at him. "I'll come tonight."
Taekwoon was alone when Hakyeon slipped into his room. He stood there for several minutes as he watched Taekwoon sleep, although without any light, there was little to discern but Taekwoon's still form and the rise and fall of his chest. He was lying part on his side—the side that had not been stabbed through. It seemed like a dream, that image, but the image of the sword pierced through Taekwoon's body was one that would haunt Hakyeon for all the years he would live. It would have done even more, had Taekwoon not been now lying here like this in sleep, his fingers grasping loosely at the blankets, his hair a little long and falling over his eyes.
He woke him in time, as Taekwoon had told him to.
"Taekwoon," Hakyeon said softly as he sat down next to him, shook his shoulder.
That was all it took for Taekwoon to turn to look up at Hakyeon, light reflecting in his eyes as he slowly blinked. He began to sit up but Hakyeon shook his head, his hand on Taekwoon's shoulder pressing gently down. Instead, he removed his shoes and lay down next to Taekwoon, in the small space between Taekwoon and the edge of the bed.
Hakyeon had returned to his own chambers and changed, wearing something so simple and plain he could have walked out into the city, and none being the wiser had they not known what the newly crowned emperor looked like. He'd slipped away, and it was now deep night that he came to Taekwoon, for his own work had kept him awake this far into the night. But he had told Taekwoon he would come, and so he did.
Sleep tugged at Taekwoon, even though he'd woken at Hakyeon's voice, at his touch. He shifted a little further to give Hakyeon more space, until they were both lying comfortably on the bed. There was a space between them, barely a hand's width apart, yet it was as uncrossable as a river of stars. Hakyeon had pushed him back down, but Taekwoon's limbs still felt numb with sleep, and he did not know if he would have been able to truly sit up, regardless.
"How are things at the court?" Taekwoon finally asked. A small smile played at the corner of Hakyeon's lips, but it was one that did not reach his eyes. It was a question that Taekwoon had not asked throughout these days, for they both knew that Hakyeon had no wish to speak of them—Hakyeon wondered why he had finally asked now.
"I will need to know eventually," Taekwoon said, when Hakyeon asked as much. But there was, as there always was, more. It had been a few days ago when he'd spoken to one of the serving girls—he did not know them, had wondered where Yoojin was. She had deflected, bowed, deferred, and when he had pressed, she had finally said that 'the Lord Emperor asked me to say nothing', and then had promptly covered her mouth, seemingly terrified she had said something wrong. Taekwoon had probably done a poor job of reassuring her she hadn't.
Hakyeon only sighed.
"I should have known you'd ask eventually," he said quietly. "I suppose it has more to do with you."
"Me?"
It was a shaky laugh, if it could be called one at all, carried by a deep exhale. "Yes, you," Hakyeon said. It was too dark to properly see Taekwoon's expression, could only hear the concern under the surprise in Taekwoon's voice.
"Don't protect me," Taekwoon said to the ceiling. "Whatever you're hiding."
And how do you know I'm hiding anything, Hakyeon might have said, but it would have been silly and even if Hakyeon did not tell him now, Taekwoon would find out eventually, once he'd finally set foot outside.
"They all thought you had died at first," Hakyeon said softly. "I don't know how, or who—it wasn't until it seemed like you might live that people...well."
The space between Hakyeon's words was as telling as any, and Taekwoon could do little but wait. Something akin to fear might have fettered its way into his heart at that moment, for how concerned, how difficult, Hakyeon seemed to be finding the words to follow that space. Hakyeon was good at finding words.
"You left the fight too early—perhaps my brothers might have been able to be saved."
They are right, Taekwoon almost said, but for how much he knew that they were wrong. It was not a thing he wanted to admit, and it was not a thing that Hakyeon wanted to consider, but truth or untruth, it was one that could only have been decided by the past.
"They don't know the extent of your injuries. No one but I, Jaehwan, and the girls know where you are. At least, no one has been told, although I suspect there are some who wonder where I had gone when I came here, but no one's been fool enough to say it to my face. Yet. For all they know, you've been sent far away to convalesce."
Hakyeon sighed then, truly sighed. He had not wished to tell Taekwoon any of this. He had not wished for any of this to have happened.
"They're using me to undermine you," Taekwoon said quietly. "To implicate you in the plot."
For all that Taekwoon detested politics, he had not grown up surrounded by them—had not grown up reading of them—to not understand some of its workings. At least ones as blatant as this. His chest seemed to crumple in on itself with this knowledge and his eyes shut without his control, as if to do so could shield him from this frustration which came from within.
"What do they want from you?" Taekwoon asked the silence.
The silence continued to reign, but Taekwoon was no stranger to silence, and the answer Hakyeon had to give was again one that Taekwoon would learn eventually—and better now and like this, for it was: "to condemn you."
A small jerk from Taekwoon, and then a breath of resignation.
"But I won't. I won't, I won't lose everyone dear to me." Hakyeon bit these words out, and how he wished to reach across that river and to hold Taekwoon to him, but to do so would almost seem to be an admission of the accusations that Hakyeon was holding Taekwoon in far too high a regard. It was foolish, these accusations, but he knew why, and Taekwoon was right, that they were trying to undermine him, young and shaky as his rule was.
"Hakyeon," Taekwoon said, and the name fell into a space that seemed to be waiting for it, and Hakyeon barely had time to catch that one word, to bury it in his bones, before Taekwoon shook his head, swallowed, replacing it with a hurried "my lord."
"No," Hakyeon said. "At least when we are alone. I can't lose you too. You're all that I have left," and it was a truth and an untruth, but in this space and moment, the truth far outweighed the untruth and it nearly crushed Taekwoon with its weight.
He too, wished he could reach across that river and hold Hakyeon to him as he'd once been able to, but something far less concrete than Hakyeon's reasons held him back. It was a name he so dearly wished to speak, and a name that he could not bring himself to speak.
"I can't lose everyone dear to me," Hakyeon said, and the words were clearly choked this time, too clearly swallowed, and he blinked up at the ceiling, not daring to bring his hand up to his eyes for fear of how clear it would make his tears.
"You have sisters who still live," Taekwoon reminded him gently. How he wanted to tell Hakyeon that it was alright to cry, that he didn't need to hold back the tears of all that he had lost. And he had lost so much, he had lost more than any one person should bear. More than one child had been orphaned that night, even if Hakyeon was no longer a child. Orphaned, and now brotherless, and with the weight of a country on his shoulders and a court to reassemble that wished in part to tear him apart. It was unfair, it was all so unfair, but it was what heaven had deemed and what blood had brought and it was what had been exchanged for the incredible power that Hakyeon now held. Power that he would have given up in a heartbeat if it meant he could have even a fraction of what he had lost returned.
Taekwoon had never been good with words. The space was as wide as a river of stars, and it was all that Taekwoon could do to brush his hand against Hakyeon's—at least here, you can cry.
Whether or not it was from that touch that Hakyeon understood, or because something within him had finally broke, was never a matter of consideration.
Taekwoon let his hand linger, no longer quite touching, and yet still so near, as Hakyeon's tears slowly subsided, as his breathing slowly evened, until it was with a small, choked laugh that he rubbed at his eyes, wiped at his face. He would need to wash before he left here.
"I can't allow the court to be so divided," Hakyeon said. His voice was still shaky, but tears would lead to nothing, and this, at least, was a sort of world apart. "There are still so many people who we must replace and everyone is vying for their allies to gain positions—they care little for another's loss if there is something to gain. I worry that our enemies will take this chance to strike, as disorganised and scattered as we are. And I too must play this game."
As he spoke, his breath evened, and Taekwoon let him speak, let him detail these things that had so taken over Hakyeon's life, every moment of his being. However much Hakyeon said he did not wish to speak of such things, Hakyeon also had a need to speak of such things—to speak of them honestly and freely. There was little Taekwoon could offer in return, no advice, no suggestions, but this space was more than enough—if only Taekwoon could know that.
Taekwoon wished he could offer more.
"This isn't what you had in mind when you asked me to come, is it?" Hakyeon asked, after trailing off.
"I had nothing in mind," Taekwoon said. He'd drawn his hand back as Hakyeon had spoken, now tucked it to his own chest.
"So much has changed in so little time," Hakyeon said. "Sometimes I wake up thinking none of this is real." Wishing none of this is real were the words that went unsaid, yet still heard by them both.
But perhaps this had been what Taekwoon had had in mind. They had not truly spoken since the day that Taekwoon had awoke, had only spoken about the most superficial of things, about whether or not Taekwoon hurt, about a book Hakyeon might bring for him, about how he missed playing music but couldn't quite summon the strength to for any length of time. They had spoken of Taekwoon, for as much as Hakyeon was used to speaking of himself, there had been too much danger in speaking of Hakyeon himself. Nor had Taekwoon ever been one to drive forth the conversation—where Hakyeon willed the conversation to go, it went. Some things did not change.
It was not so long ago that the two of them had shared a bed in a very different way. When Taekwoon had pulled Hakyeon into a kiss, when Taekwoon had undressed Hakyeon, and when the two of them had been as close as two people could ever be, on this very bed. It was not so long ago when this space between them would have been as insubstantial as a swallow's breath, when neither would have hesitated to draw the other close in comfort—to give comfort, to claim comfort. There were no lights in this room of theirs, had any passed by the window, they would have been hard pressed to see. But it was not the eyes of the world that kept them from reaching across that river. Not at this moment.
"Things will change," Taekwoon said, voice brushing aside the silence that had draped over them like a veil of moonlight. Hakyeon turned to look at him then, his face still tear-stained, eyes nearly dry. Taekwoon did not. "You will rule this country well, and I will get stronger. You…" Taekwoon paused, drew a breath. "I said something to you, that day by the lake. I still swear by it, Hakyeon, I always will."
Taekwoon had said many things that day by the lake, and how like a dream that day seemed now. Hakyeon had carved those things into his very being, and now, he drew them all to the surface, as if in answer to Taekwoon's speaking of his name.
"Thank you," Hakyeon said, for there was little else to say. That in itself seemed trite and needless, but there was some urge to fill in the space after Taekwoon's words, as if they could not be left unfettered in the room. Taekwoon had yet to look at him, and Hakyeon could only trace out the indistinct edges of shadows, the barest outline of Taekwoon's profile. It didn't matter—it was a profile he had long since memorised, and could see even in the darkest of nights.
More might have been said that night, had sleep not tugged relentlessly at Hakyeon, insidiously, drawing him deep beneath the dark surface of a mirror-like lake, no moon to disturb what stars could be seen. It would be long after Hakyeon had fallen to slumber before Taekwoon would finally turn to face him, and take in the image of his emperor: tired lines about his eyes, cheeks stained with dried tears, quiet and vulnerable and still so young. It struck him then that Taekwoon had never seen him like this—it was the thought that would chase after him as he too fell into sleep.
Hakyeon saw him first through the moon window, as if a painting. There were clouds in the sky but the day was still bright, and it almost seemed as if Taekwoon were in slumber from the way he leant against the pillar. His earrings glinted in the morning light, and his hair fell softly over his closed eyes. From across the stream, Hakyeon could not see clearly the minute details of Taekwoon's expression, but it was enough to know it was one at peace. He was dressed today in a light blue, and on his lap he held his flute.
His eyes opened as Hakyeon's steps rounded the wall, crossed the small stream.
"You're going to say that 'you are resting', aren't you?" Hakyeon asked before Taekwoon could even open his mouth.
Taekwoon pursed his lips unthinkingly, a small shake of the head as he straightened on the bench. Hakyeon laughed softly as he joined him.
"Just because things have been sorted out in court doesn't mean you should just wander about as you please," Hakyeon said. Taekwoon resisted the urge to scoff.
"I've healed well," he said instead.
"This is still rather far," Hakyeon said.
Taekwoon's lips twitched at that, and Hakyeon noted at that moment the exhaustion clear on Taekwoon's face and surmised that yes, this had been rather far. Hakyeon sighed. "You are a stubborn fool."
"I've healed well," Taekwoon said instead. As if to prove it, he stood, and he was only a little shaky. He looked at Hakyeon, still seated. "I want to walk."
Hakyeon blew out a long breath but stood as well, coming to stand by Taekwoon's side. He looped an arm about Taekwoon's, Taekwoon leaning against him naturally, as he had been doing so for the past month, meandering late night walks through the palace when there were few others about. Things had settled, and in the end, it had been Taekwoon's father who had finally lost his temper and berated the dissenting ministers. He was, after all, now first in line to the throne and held a certain amount of power. That realisation had been a shock to Taekwoon. His father had come to see him shortly after that, and he too seemed older than Taekwoon remembered, although Taekwoon had rarely ever seen him. Taekwoon had not realised that he'd cared much for his son at all—the matters of the country had always been the most important. A lesson that Taekwoon too had carried in his heart.
It was clear now that Taekwoon would not be leaving.
Their footsteps briefly brushed aside silence as they walked down the meandering hall, the small lake visible through the latticed windows. It had been a difficult decision to make, but before that decision could be carried through, the heavens had deemed the choice a worthless one. Perhaps Taekwoon had always been meant to stay. Come afternoon, the summer sun would shine hot across this garden, but at this moment as they paused by a window, the day was yet still cool.
"At night there was the sound of wind and rain, how many petals have fallen and scattered," Hakyeon said, as he looked out over the water. There were not so many, for the peach blossoms had begun to bear fruit instead of flowers, but still they painted a lovely picture.
"Did you sleep well past dawn?" Taekwoon asked, teasing. Hakyeon scoffed, and looked like he would have hit Taekwoon had Taekwoon not been likely to topple over if he had.
"I have been quite busy, I'll have you know," Hakyeon said.
Taekwoon laughed at that and turned just enough for Hakyeon to begin walking again, steps slow and measured.
"Things always seem better in the morning," Hakyeon said as they walked. "It makes the night that has passed seem not so dark."
A small hum of assent, as the hall opened into a pavilion. A screen of bamboo shielded one window, while a bridge angled away from the door. They sat here, Taekwoon almost gratefully. Hakyeon mourned the loss of Taekwoon's warmth against him but hid it well and away.
A couplet seemed to be forming on Taekwoon's tongue, but he shook it away as he leaned back. Light filtered in through the bamboo, and Taekwoon wondered what one would see had the bamboo been shorn away. The crag of rock ringed by water could be barely seen, suggested only in shadow.
"It doesn't change how dark the night was," Taekwoon said.
"And a dark night it has been."
They were not alone in this garden—they had seen someone earlier, posed in thought as he contemplated the scene in front of them. Taekwoon wished to be alone, but there were few places he could go to be so but Hakyeon's old chambers, and only if he sent everyone away.
He stood in time, Hakyeon following half a second later. This time, Taekwoon did not take Hakyeon's arm, and Hakyeon did not force him. They followed the bridge over a small stream to where it faded into a dirt path. Taekwoon had not come so far in this garden in recent days, and he had always preferred the one just outside the other end of the palace. It had not been so far, back then.
Hakyeon led them down the unfamiliar paths, and Taekwoon paused as they passed a small patch of peonies. The fragrance was gentle, but when he bent down to look at them closer, pain shot through his body, his face contorting unwillingly into a grimace.
"It suits you," Hakyeon said, as he plucked one from the stem and held it out for Taekwoon. Taekwoon looked between the bloom and then at Hakyeon, before he took the flower in his hand.
"Just this once," Hakyeon said softly. "As emperor I should be allowed to do such things, occasionally."
"Flowers don't live long," Taekwoon said. It was a delicate thing, but the petals of this flower had not been blown or battered aside by the rain, even as petals littered the sides of the path. Taekwoon held it in his hand by the stem as they walked, as he again leaned against Hakyeon.
"I don't know if that makes it better or worse," Hakyeon said. Taekwoon only leaned against Hakyeon a little more heavily.
They had come, slowly, to the farthest end of the garden. There was a small mountain here, and it was with reluctance that Hakyeon allowed Taekwoon to tug him towards it. A pavilion sat at the top of the craggy rocks, and they would be able to see at least over the lake. It was not a tall one, and yet, Taekwoon's breaths were short and shallow when they finally came to the peak. Hakyeon did not chide him, merely held him tighter even when Taekwoon made to let go.
"I'd like to hear you play again, some day," Hakyeon said. He could see Taekwoon's hand tighten about his flute. "But there will be time for that."
It seemed empty now, the garden. At least from where they stood. The silence was strange, with not even the sound of a bird. Ripples decorated the water, fish flashing below the surface in brilliant reds and oranges. Hakyeon had not let go of Taekwoon, and Taekwoon seemed to have resigned himself to it, as his breaths slowly evened.
He pulled away from Hakyeon to sit on the bench. It faced out towards the garden, but seated as he was, there was little of the garden he could see, but for Hakyeon, posed against it as a backdrop. Had Taekwoon been an artist, it would have been captured in wistful strokes of colour, and he would have decorated the edges with peonies.
As if catching Taekwoon's thoughts, Hakyeon smiled, and came to sit next to Taekwoon.
"One day, let's go to the lake again," Hakyeon said. "Just the two of us."
When Taekwoon looked at Hakyeon, expecting a playful, teasing expression to match his words, he found none, and that itself lodged in his chest, an unspeakable feeling. The sun had already set that last day, by the time they had left. It had been night that they had turned their backs upon, and the lights of the palace to which they had returned. It was so long ago now, if a quarter of a year could be said to be long.
"I told you then that I would come back," Taekwoon said, the words springing out unbidden. "That isn't quite true."
There was a look of alarm that Hakyeon shot him that Taekwoon quite missed, eyes shut as they were. But if there was anything that Hakyeon might have said, it was swallowed in the smallest motion of Taekwoon's hand, the one that narrowed the space between them, the one that brushed his fingers against his, the peony sitting on top of their hands both. Taekwoon opened his eyes then, and all he saw was the surprise in Hakyeon's eyes, and a small smile that Taekwoon drew out with his own.
"I'll never leave," Taekwoon said, and it was enough for them both that Hakyeon clutched at Taekwoon's fingers, hidden beneath a flower, suspended away from prying eyes.