Chapter Text
It's completely empty here, but Hyungwon's used to it now.
He's surprised at how dead the grass is, ash-brown and flat, echoes of the feet that might have trampled them centuries back. A frightening thought passes and then settles, of phantom feet dragging over the grass that should’ve been fresh otherwise. Hyungwon shudders. Death lingers fresh and sour at the back of his throat and he finds his hand on Changkyun's elbow without noticing he had reached for him. His hairs stand on end. What is this place? They’re standing on a large field in the middle of the Son Palace, steps away from the tree he had tripped onto a few days ago, and there's nothing here.
Absolutely nothing.
And yet he can't stop walking around, glaring into the rotten grass as though it would give him answers, running his long fingers through the ice cold of the condensation that hangs too long in the air. In a few seconds, Changkyun's moves a thousand years away, but Hyungwon barely registers the decreasing sound of the retreating footsteps. There's something else, in the distance— he can just barely make it out. Something fuzzy in the side of his vision, upright and solitary amidst the nothingness that seems to go on for miles.
Before he knows it, he's sprinting over. It's absurd, really, his dogged determination to make sense of this empty grass field, when Changkyun seems to have found much better things to look at, elsewhere, and he's running , why? He had no idea his legs could do that. He's panting and sighing and groaning like a malfunctioning crank, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop even as his legs start feeling like sharp hollow spears dragging along the floor, not until the thing he had seen rolled over the horizon.
And now he's really alone, he sees, and has a rapid inexplicable urge to flee. There's nothing within miles of him except the freezing draft that slithers up his back, and it seems like he could have bellowed into the horizon and only heard his own voice shouting back. He reminds himself to stick to Changkyun next time, his fingers folding, trembling, against his elbows. Come on Chae , his mental Changkyun lectures him, it's just grass.
Grass, and what? He takes a look at the thing that had brought him over, a piece of wood, stuck deep and sharp into the soil below. A closer look reveals it to be a broken branch, the ends where it had been slashed off resembling human gashes. Hyungwon almost feels pain in the tree's stead, like he had been sliced open too. He leans over and draws his hand down the wood, examining the way it had been stuck into the ground below.
Why? The grass wouldn't give him answers, but he begs it anyway, as if there could be any clues in the nothingness that he stands on. It's chilling to think that there's a real world just outside of here, trains and buildings and the morning rush, that it's not really eternal dusk and dawn like it feels when he's here. Here he stands, a professional historical researcher, in a patch of dead grass begging a stick of wood for answers and feeling as though the ground is going to swallow him whole. He squirms where he stands, resisting the urge to beg Changkyun to come over.
As he's crouching down to examine the area, he notices the grass under his feet, green and living and fresh, taller than the crinkled excuses for plants he had stomped across, tickling him across his bare ankles where his socks have slid down. Shit. What was it he read that time, about areas where the grass grew greener? He feels the fear spread like a tingle of a breath on his neck, and it roots him to the ground, his knees locking in total contradiction of his desire to pass out.
Oh no.
He barely registers when the phone starts buzzing in his pocket, his head feeling fuzzy and empty and full at once, when he opens the message from Changkyun.
04:34: I think this is a graveyard.
-
"... that I will do my utmost to serve the duties and functions that befit a King of Son... that I sleep and live with the weight of the acres and the people over my shoulders... "
The whole capital must be out here. Kihyun looks around at the hushed crowd, watching their clammy hands clasp over one another, feet tapping anxiously onto the ground until he's sure that the arena is positively vibrating from the combined force of it. He hasn't seen a crowd this big since the war had ended and he had been carted back through the roaring procession pretending to be a doctor that had been there the whole while. Boy, several months sure feel like decades when your life is a complete shithole , he muses to himself, watching bitterly the festivities around him.
Because of course , the crowd is unimaginable. It's coronation day. Shownu, the nation's beloved crown prince, had finally come of age, and today, he takes on the crown. From today, Shownu of Son Kingdom becomes the man who single-handedly holds the most power in the entire kingdom, commanding entire armies with the nod of his head and approving and manipulating countless wars and pillages. Kihyun hates him for it, and for a million other things he doesn’t dare to list.
"...that I place the Kingdom before the self... that the prestige and might of the Kingdom shall not be soiled by my reign... that I will be a true and honest King. This I pledge."
Kihyun looks up to see Shownu bow before his father, a tall, terrifying man whose presence was even more elevated by the docile presence of the strong young man bowing down to him. Shownu is always well-dressed, and rightly so, usually in robes that seemed to be (and probably were) tailored and sewn right onto his body, and his hair is usually impeccable, spilling over his shoulders and fringe pulled back by embroidered red and gold silk, but he looks different today.
He’s divine. Today he looks sculpted, glowing, the folds of his robes adhering so perfectly to his skin it looks like he was born in it, his hair pulled into a tight bun over his head, freeing up the area around his shoulders where his broad frame was usually concealed. It's a strategic move, probably, to make him look so incredibly strong on the most important day of his life, and also to fuck with one Yoo Kihyun. Because no matter how much he wants to hate him, and that is so so much, he has to admit he looks exactly like the heavens that kings are said to come from.
But Kihyun's looking for someone else. Kihyun's neck aches from how far he's craned it, peeking above the thousand heads in front of him to catch a glimpse of the general. Shownu's heavenly image is tainted by the absence of the adoring and worshipful brown eyes that followed him everywhere. People are so much easier to worship when they're always accompanied by someone who so readily and adamantly does it, and Kihyun suspects that that is the point of the King-General system in the first place, and he supposes that's why the old King looks particularly offbeat without his general by his side.
Just then, a hush washes over the audience that had been quiet to begin with, and he follows the awed glances of the crowd to see Wonho enter the stage.
The Son Kingdom has never had a beautiful general before. Kihyun is new to the country, but even as a complete outsider, he concludes this by the way the citizens gaze in such genuine amazement at the man that entered the stage that they weren't used to getting to look at a general for this long. The kings were the centre of the spotlight, the adored, the gods and the angels, and the generals were just the fools who loved them endlessly. This is much different, and Kihyun doesn’t have to look twice to know that.
Wonho looks absolutely stunning, his hair lying soft and pitch black over his shoulders, framing his face and jawline. His lips are full and plush and perfect in an eternal pout and even his hands that rest by his side are fit for relentless loving, concealed mostly by the long flowing ends of the robes that billow around his wrist, and showing only the dainty pink tips of his soft hands. Most people would have been swallowed by the billowing silks that his robe was made of, but Wonho looks celestial, vulnerable and beautiful without the chunky armour he was usually encased in. The crowd watches him, searching his face for any sign of weakness, of faltering, because of what had happened just the day before, but Kihyun thinks today any delicateness would have been beauty on his face.
You're so beautiful , Kihyun thinks, and if voices could break in thoughts, Kihyun's would have with that one, because Wonho also does look so sad . He watches the general kneel down at Shownu's feet, head inclined reverently up at him, with that look. You're all I have, Wonho says without speaking, and Shownu's benign smiling face replies, I know . Kihyun knows what's coming next, he's seen them rehearse it a thousand times and he can say it by heart too. But he thinks it might break him to hear it now.
"The General of the Son Kingdom will now pledge himself to the kingdom and to his king."
Kihyun bites his lip to hold in the cry that threatens to escape, but he can’t block out the vows for long.
"... to protect my king before my life... to ensure anything that hurts him would have killed me a thousand times first... to take care of this god-given body because it is his first of all..."
No...
"... that no kiss should befall my lips but that bestowed by my king, no touch unpermitted..."
Kihyun's hand flies up to his own lips, unwittingly, and he really doesn't dare to hear much more. He can still feel the tender press of Wonho's lips against his last night: the quiet, desperate intertwining of their fingers, seeing the general smile into the kiss through the moonlight passing through the treetop leaves. His other hand closes tightly around the jeweled headband hidden in his robe. It's so hard to remember that Wonho is not Shownu's, or to even believe it, what with all the festivities and the intensity and the way Wonho's eyes follow him like he's the only man in the world. But at some point, Wonho had become Kihyun’s, and he had become Wonho's, and everything that is happening now is achingly familiar, but it's so easy to forget when Wonho pledges his very being to Shownu in the witness of the whole country.
"... no ommission, no exceptions, that I'll write you into my bones..."
Wonho's voice breaks, shatters almost, but he pushes on even when his words can barely be heard anymore, and for once, Shownu's calm demeanour breaks and he bends down and reaches for him, even as the old king glares in disapproval. It's so deadly silent Kihyun can almost make out what Shownu's saying as he falls onto his knees and pulls Wonho's head into his chest, "No... No, no, no. My love, it's okay. I know, I know." It's a king-general relationship like it's never been seen before, and even though he maintains that it's still messed up, Kihyun has to admit there is love there. That Shownu loves Wonho too.
He gets up to leave.
-
(A month before)
He didn't think he'd be with Wonho tonight, but this is nice. The leaves crunch under his feet where he steps and he makes sure to find all the crispy ones, bouncing on all of them while Wonho laughs behind him, getting pulled along through the forest. It's so... easy to get lost here, hidden in all the repetitive identical trees, watching every same patch of moonlight hover and pass into shadows behind him, and it's so much easier to get lost when he's with Wonho, feeling like he's floating on air and that the dusk would never end.
He didn't think he'd be with Wonho tonight, and he had been right not to, since it's foolish to get his hopes up over a man who barely has time for him. (He does anyway.) Wonho's perfect and loving, but Kihyun has no right to him, and no right to ask, and he comes and goes and all Kihyun can do is appreciate it. (And he does.) It had been weeks since they had had any proper time together, so he had been surprised, to say the least, when Wonho had shown up to his quarters in the middle of the night, smiling sheepishly and asking him to walk with him. He had been surprised, because, overwhelmed with all the stress of his sick father, Wonho had refused to see anyone, and had buried himself in coronation preparations so that he only surfaced during meals and the occasional public ceremony. He certainly hadn't expected him to be smiling, leaning sleazily on the door frame with his pretty hands outstretched, tempting Kihyun into a spontaneous walk in the forest.
"You're gorgeous," Wonho calls from behind him, tightening his grip and catching up so they're side by side. Kihyun slaps him lightly on the arm, slowing down so they're walking at a leisurely pace, and he feels like he's sighing without having to do it. How does being with Wonho make him feel like everything's okay when absolutely nothing is? They walk in silence for a minute, and at some point Wonho tries to lean on his shoulder, and it obviously doesn't work, and Kihyun laughs and Wonho laughs and Kihyun squeezes his hand tighter begging the nightfall to never end.
Then they're sitting by the water, alone in the dark and empty expanse of the riverbank, Wonho's hand resting just on top of Kihyun's. It's perfect, really. Just now, they had been led by the stray and occasional patches of the dim moonlight and now they're under a gaze of a thousand stars, and it's perfect, and it would be perfect even if the moss had ridden up their legs or if the clouds had obscured the stars tonight because at least Wonho's there, with him. I love you so much , he thinks, watching the other man kick at the water, chuckling low and adorable at how the water rippled under the night sky.
"Do you want to talk?" Wonho suddenly asks, which is yet another surprise, because it's something Wonho spends most of his life avoiding.
"Do you?" He replies, only to see the other man shrug and give him a small smile. Wonho picks up his hand and starts playing with his fingers, and Kihyun is almost too buried in his endearment to hear himself continue, "About Shownu?" It's scandalous, really, that he doesn't call the crown prince by his rightful title, and even more so that his general doesn't do anything about it, but it is one of the petty liberties that he has begun to learn to appreciate.
"My fathe- the general said I should talk to you about this. I know you don't like it, the way our relationship is." Wonho starts off hesitantly but ends steadily, even though he still turns away from eye contact. Kihyun doesn't know what to say, or if he even needs to say anything. Wonho isn't wrong about what he said; he's just understating it heavily, for decency’s sake. Kihyun replies, "I don't." Wonho seems to have been expecting it, but still bites his lip at the answer.
"There's just... There's a lot you don't understand about it, Kihyun. I know it's messed up, I do. But it's not his fault. They made me this way before we were both conscious of it all--"
"He lets you!"
"We're trying, Kihyun! We're trying because I love him and he loves me and it hurts, it hurts so much because no matter how much we try, there's some fucked up part of me that doesn't want to let it go! He's trying, Kihyun. I just, I don't know if I'm ready to stop loving him like that. But I also know this, for sure, that beyond… all of that, we really do love each other? I..." He draws in a shaky breath and then falls quiet as Kihyun pulls his head into his chest and wraps his arms tight around him, pressing soft kisses onto his head and rubbing circles onto his back. He doesn't know what to say, holding Wonho's whole body trembling like a leaf in his arms, and never having heard any of that before. He prays that Wonho can't hear how fast his heart is beating, and how hard his hands are shaking on his back because the only thing he can do is let Wonho's sniffles ring out into the silence.
He supposes he had never really thought of it that way. He supposes that he should have realised they weren't dumb, but he still can't shake feeling that there was so much more Shownu could be doing for him, for Wonho.
Ever since he had met Wonho, he had never lost the impression that Wonho was born to be loved, that even the pettiest and most vengeful of hearts would have bent to the curve of his dimple and the crease of his lips. Even with battle wounds and bloody gashes all over his war-worn body, he had still found the energy somewhere in him to smile weakly at the terrified village physician whose door he had come knocking on. Even on the verge of death he had added a ‘please’ to the starts of his sentences and a ‘thank you’ to the end of every single one. Kihyun thinks that not only is Wonho born to be loved, he was born to love, and he thinks it every time Wonho tip-toed past the tiny screaming frogs in the morning like a gentle giant and lost to the same group of toddlers in the occasional mock-fights. Shownu definitely could do more.
The big fluffy head Kihyun's cuddling between his arms speaks into his chest, "I'm sorry, Ki... I don't know why I brought that up." Kihyun chuckles-- trust Wonho to throw himself headlong into a situation he can't handle and then end up crying. He responds only by squeezing him tighter in a headlock, and Wonho flails adorably before surrendering to the hug.
"I love you so much," Wonho speaks Kihyun's thoughts out loud, and it's almost tear-inducing. "Let’s not talk about Nu, let's talk about something else."
"Like what?"
"Like us." Kihyun looks up, a smile subconsciously playing on his lips, "Us?" Wonho nods, wrapping his arms around Kihyun and pushing himself up, "Like how I love you and you love me and I want to be yours and I think about you all the time?" Kihyun bites his lips to hold in a laugh, although it doesn't help with the blush that forms on his face.
"Sure." He says, "Let's talk about us." He knows from Wonho's laugh and subsequent burying of his face behind his own hands that he once again has no plan, whatsoever, so he speaks instead, calmly, "I want to be yours too, if that helps." Wonho squeaks an inhuman squeak and spins the whole way away, restrained only by Kihyun turning him back by his shoulders. This is so cheesy, Kihyun thinks, but if being around Wonho means that he has to surrender to these dark, too-romantic thoughts and urges to bury his chin in Wonho's shoulder and peck his cheeks, then he must.
(He doesn't have to, because seconds later Wonho's arms are squeezed tight around his waist and his head settled comfortably in the crook of Kihyun's neck.)
Kihyun involuntarily purrs at the contact, pulling Wonho's hands closer around himself and sighing into the touch. God , he wants to be Wonho's. He'd want nothing more than to be loved by the world's best angel, to protect him and love him and sew him up and have him for however long forever could be.
That's what he's thinking about when Wonho mumbles quietly, "Marry me."
He would've spluttered, going into a frenzied overdrive, eyes expanding to the sizes of saucers, but he thinks, this actually makes sense, this seems exactly like something Wonho would do , and lets out a breathy "yes". It makes complete sense. Kihyun laughs squeakily out loud because it's so obvious, and easy, and perfect, and still something exactly and only Wonho would come up with. “Marry me”, he said, like it’s so simple, just like that, and it is. Kihyun laughs again because it really is that simple.
Marry me. No one has to know.
In a cold, empty forest at the break of dawn, their feet ankle deep in river water, completely illegally and secretly, probably isn't the best way to get married for anyone, but it's also exactly what Kihyun wants, because Wonho asked him and he loves him and seriously, everything's fine, or it's easy to pretend that it is, because he gets to love Wonho, at least he does. I get to love you.
It's not a traditional marriage, not that it could ever have been. There are no flowers or guests or officiators or even rings and Kihyun's in his pyjamas and neither of them can stop giggling, writing scrambled vows to each other in the random spots of light they can find, hiding desperately everytime the other person tried to peek over his shoulder. It’s perfect .
Instead of rings, Wonho gently unwraps the beautiful, silk, jewel-encrusted headband from his head and then ties it around Kihyun's hand, the ruby glistening red and forbidden on his wrist. Almost sheepishly, Kihyun returns the favour, replacing Wonho's hand-sewn band with his own: common and cotton and his, and now Wonho's. It's clumsy, their hands bumping in the dark of the twilight, laughs tumbling over their lips in short, embarrassed spurts, but they don't turn away from each other.
"Yoo Kihyun, I promise I'll always want to be with you, that I'll be worth your coming here, that you, my sun and stars, will be the root of all my smiles and... I'll be dusk to your day, the starry sky that settles over your burning sunset, that I'll always love you and always want to love you. I love you. "
"Wonho, I... I've never met anyone like you. You're intense and yet you're soft, and loving, and lovable. You're made of love, and light, and you're a soft breath, a sigh away from just being a daydream. You're my daydream, I love you."
Kihyun barely remembers getting back into bed later that night, his head consumed fully by thoughts of the last kiss they shared after their makeshift vows, foreheads pressed so close together.
He dreams of nothing, but he wakes up thinking about Wonho.
-
"I know, I know, I know." Shownu whispers sweet nothings into Wonho's hair, wiping his tears as they come. Wonho's always been prone to tears, and with the events of yesterday, Shownu supposes that it isn't unexpected that he'd be particularly fragile now, but he's always been so adamant to follow traditions and procedures that Shownu had believed that even that couldn't have broken his demeanour on this sacred day.
Guess people can surprise you , Shownu thought grimly to himself, resting his chin on top of Wonho's head and rocking him sweetly. He knows the whole kingdom is watching, he can feel his father's angry glare drilling into his back, but up here, with his best friend crying like he'd never be happy again, Shownu's got bigger priorities. If this is what Wonho needs, Shownu would be completely alone in the world with him, would rock him till the tears stopped falling, until the crowd disappeared from their side altogether.
It's okay, it's okay, it's okay , he tells himself as well. There are some things he can't fix, some things he can never fix, but all he has is Wonho and especially now, all Wonho has is him, and that has to be enough somehow. Whatever's happened has happened, and even though it hurts, (and it hurts so much), he knows Wonho feels it a thousand times over, because Wonho feels everything to the extent of how things can be felt, like he himself had been stabbed through the chest and out, like he might die from the very pain of it. And Shownu's going to be the king, damnit, and if he couldn't take care of his most important subject, he might as well reject the crown right there. This is his biggest duty.
Wonho stops crying, eventually, but Shownu refuses to let go of him, even for a while, because he can feel the old king's rage from miles away. What kind of general breaks down sobbing in the middle of his king's coronation , he can almost hear his father shout, and somehow with his back against the rest of the crowd, Wonho hidden in his broad arms, he feels like he's protecting him.
"Are you okay?" He asks Wonho, making sure to keep his voice low and calm, keeping a protective hand resting on the small of the general's back. "Can we continue?" Wonho nods, sniffles, and then nods again more confidently, looking soft and pale-pink and lovely and nothing like a general's supposed to look like. Shownu thinks they dressed Wonho up today to target him, specifically, because he already loves Wonho in his bulky armour and with a heavy metal sword weighing down his gait, but now he's completely visible, the silk robes seeming to blossom right from the pinks of his skin, and Shownu can barely hold himself together. He's so beautiful it makes him sad, because he's too soft for the duty of his position, for the grinding, jaw-gritting sound of a sword being unsheathed, for the pain of a thousand deaths, for the pain he’s facing, right now.
Shownu sometimes wonders if their positions should be switched. He'd be happy to kneel at Wonho's feet for the rest of his life, to lean into the pads of his palms and shut his eyes. They say kings are heaven-sent but he can't just believe that, not now. Not when he stands in his own coronation feeling utterly human and gapes at a man who might as well be a dream, his face peachy-pink from crying, whom Shownu couldn't ever find the words to explain but was definitely not born of man. Not when he looks over at his father standing alone and unattended by the throne, with anger and fire from deep behind the eyes, hands clenched in such ungraceful rage that could never have come from the stars, disgraced without his loving general.
Maybe they had all gotten it wrong about who was heaven-sent after all.
The ceremony continues and soon he hears the royal announcer declare,
"And now, for the scared ceremonial kiss: The bonding between our new-crowned king and his faithful general."
Shownu has always thought that this tradition was insanely contradictory to everything the kingdom stood for, when they condemned the romantic affections between men of different ranks, or at all. Everything in the kingdom contradicted and complemented this king-general relationship in general, and Shownu doesn't think he can ever really unpack it.
Especially not now, when Wonho stands in front of him, apprehensive and sheepish, and he can almost hear the bated breath of the thousands that watch on.
He really hates it, the feeling of having to share this, share Wonho, with the thousand eyes that monitor their every move. It feels vulnerable, exposed, and super messed up, to say the least, but he's slowly having a hard time thinking.
His body carries him over while his entire head fuzzes up, and he only regains feeling in his touch when his hand rests on Wonho's cheek, soft and wet because obviously he's crying again. He wants to laugh, but it doesn't come, and he only leans in closer towards Wonho's slightly parted lips.
Fuck.
He had never really imagined kissing Wonho. It was never a part of his brain that he wanted to visit, but he supposes in the back of his mind, locked up in a compartment somewhere, he had always wanted to do it. He doesn't really know what he expected, but it wasn't any of it. It felt more detached, hesitant. He feels more of the excited audience atmosphere than he feels his best friend's lips on his, and he doesn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved.
That would depend on whether he wants to kiss Wonho or not.
He doesn't know, and as he's thinking, they've already pulled away. All he knows now is that, he would die for Wonho, really, and that he will never understand how the king decided to carry on with the celebrations today as if yesterday had never happened. He squeezes his eyes shut to bring his mind somewhere else, and turns to face the crowd instead.
His people.
He's now the king, and he puts on his most regal smile and tries not to meet the eyes of any particular person pinning their new hopes and dreams on the young man that promised to lead their country, and relaxes only at the press of Wonho’s palm to his back.
-
Changkyun sees Hyungwon running back from the barren land he had wandered off to. It reminds him of when he was kid, every time after watching a scary movie, flushing the toilet and scrambling to get the fuck back to human territory (the living room) without properly wiping his hands before the imaginary ghost made a meal out of him. His boyfriend running back with his long slenderman legs, his hair flying in the wind, has about the same vibe right now. Frankly, it's not too unexpected since the last cryptic text he had sent to Hyungwon had simply been, "I think this is a graveyard."
He'd have run too.
He opens his arms in anticipation of the terrified long man coming his way, and is still not braced for the impact when his boyfriend smashes into his chest, huffing and groaning. If this was a movie, they would've been rolling in the grass. It isn't a movie, but he's Changkyun, damnit, so they're rolling in the grass anyway, Hyungwon screeching and wriggling for dominance. When Hyungwon lands on top of him with his skinny legs wrapped around him, he breathes out, "You fucking scared me, Im." And all Changkyun can do is laugh uncontrollably at him.
"So how do you know this is a graveyard?" Hyungwon asks after all that, standing in the middle of all the headstones around them. Changkyun sees the Oh written all over his face before he grins, embarrassed and slaps himself softly on his cheek. He comes over to the headstone that Changkyun is in front of and squats down next to him.
"I was going to clear the dust off this thing but I thought you wouldn't want to miss out on the fun."
Hyungwon gives him the you-now-me-so-well look and nods for him to start. The headstone was well-placed, viewable and important and solitary. This clearly had been an important and possibly royal graveyard, with only a few headstones lining the grass in pairs. This one was different in its solitude, an empty patch next to it where there should have been another headstone. What happened? Changkyun wipes off the dust and the grime bit by bit, and Hyungwon slowly starts to make out the letters to the name of the man who had been buried without his designated partner.
If his theory is correct, and he thinks it might be, then this graveyard was filled with the headstones of kings and generals. They stand upon the bones and decayed flesh of thousands of kings and generals that lived and died, and this headstone belonged to another one.
He thinks he knows which, and he squints to make out the words that appear on the headstone to discover that he is right. That centuries ago, general Wonho would have been kneeling at this exact same spot, begging for forgiveness, tears falling onto the fresh soil below.
Lee Minho, Ninth General of the Son Kingdom , followed by the date of his death, just a day before the last king of the Son Kingdom had been crowned.
‘He who only knew love.’