Chapter Text
The thing about being the one to inherit a generations-old curse is that everyone dotes on you a little more than they would for others.
Hoseok is familiar with this, he always has been. Growing up was treading glass. He remembers always being encouraged to wear pretty things around his neck to hide the mage’s mark. He remembers sitting next to different nannies as they read books to him, encouraging him to mimic the shape of the sound as if it would have any difference on the fact his larynx was locked behind a spell to keep him silent. He remembers learning sign language that was custom to his castle and their residents, and then being given a tablet because no one outside of the castle was capable of understanding his hands. He remembers the pitying looks of servants when they thought he wasn’t looking, their whispers of how unfortunate it was that he had drawn the short end of the stick.
Growing up was treading glass.
Hoseok knew this well.
He slips into the dining hall before the dinner service starts, taking a seat at the table. Dior mouths ‘happy birthday’ at him across the table, and he grins before signing, “Thanks.” He folds his hands across his lap, spine taut with learned grace and elegance as the servants enter a moment later with dinner.
“Since it’s your birthday, the chef decided on a special menu,” his mother says, gesturing to the plates laden with childhood favorites. Hoseok sneaks a bite of steamed cake, careful not to jostle a servant when she sets down a bowl of glass noodles with a sincere smile. “There’s your favorites, like sweet peanut pancakes and net bread.”
“You didn’t have to go all out like this,” Hoseok signs, but it doesn’t stop him from taking an overly large bite of noodles.
“But we wanted to,” his mother replies. “Well, more accurately, the chef wanted to.”
“Just enjoy yourself,” Dior says. “It’s your twenty-third birthday after all.”
Hoseok smiles. It’s easy to take their advice, as he helps himself to as much favorites as he can stomach. Dinner goes by quietly, his mother and Dior occasionally chiming up with political updates or gossip, and it isn’t long until Hoseok finds himself leaning against the high-backed chair, a soundless sigh of contentment slipping past his lips. His mother had long finished her meal, and Dior was busy picking at bare bones. He’s forgotten his manners, he knows that, but his mother isn’t directing any pointed looks and Dior couldn’t care less about how he acted in his own home.
He lets himself wait a moment out of politeness, before he signs, “Thank you for the meal,” with a grateful smile, and moves to get up. He barely makes it out of his seat before his mother stops him with a touch to his wrist.
“Before you go, I have something to ask of you.” His mother pulls out an envelope, with the wax seal already broken, and slides it over to him. “We’ve received an invitation from the Son family. They’re hosting a series of events, all over one month, to find their crown prince a royal partner,” she says, pausing before adding, “I want you to attend, to represent our kingdom.”
Her voice is soft as she speaks, like Hoseok’s a wild animal she can’t afford to spook; in a way, she’s right. Hoseok reads over the letter carefully before he sets it aside. “No,” he signs, hands certain as he shakes his head. “I don’t want to go.”
“Hoseok,” his mother says, and her voice takes a turn for exasperated, spinning into a tone meant for a child who doesn’t know any better. “There’s no one else to represent us. Dior’s engaged and due to take the throne next summer, and it’s not as if I have any other eligible children.”
“Then I guess we just won’t be represented,” Hoseok signs. His hands are shaking, whether it’s with anger or something else he can’t tell, but he closes his fists anyways, balls them up in his lap and out of sight. He tries to catch Dior’s eyes across the table, but she’s looking at her plate, shoulders tense.
There was inevitably a catch to such a nice dinner. Hoseok feels disappointed that he didn’t see it coming.
His mother shakes her head, and she reaches over the table to take his hand. The walls he so hastily put up crack, and Hoseok meets her eyes. “I wouldn’t ask this of you if we absolutely didn’t need to, but the kingdom”—she breathes in deeply—“it would mean incredible security, both literally and financially, for us if you were engaged to Dalyang’s crown prince. He’s going to rule one of the oldest and richest kingdoms on the continent. We could benefit from what that entails.”
Hoseok doesn’t want to. He’s never grown into the social life nobles threw themselves in, partly because they couldn’t adapt to him. No one wants to hold a conversation with someone who has to type their replies out, or who has to have someone take the message behind his hands and translate them to speaking word. He’s branded by something that singles him out, and Hoseok has spent too long learning to build himself up when others want to tear him down in an effort to look like they care.
But his mother—his mother had always sought to do the right thing, and it’s difficult for Hoseok to be stubborn in the face of this request. He glances to their hands, and closes his eyes. A subtle sign of consideration. It only takes a moment before the walls crumble.
“I’ll—” Hoseok’s hand stutters, before he pulls away his other hand to sign slowly, deliberately, “I’ll do it for you. I don’t want to do it, but if it means you’ll be happy… I’ll try.”
His mother breathes a sigh of relief, head lowered in the way that tells Hoseok she was ready for the worst. He stands up, and Dior finally lifts her head. She looks apologetic, and Hoseok knows she would take the role from him if she could.
“I’m going to bed,” Hoseok signs. He tries for a small smile to ease his mother’s weighted heart. “Thank you for the birthday dinner. It meant a lot to me.”
Hoseok collapses onto his bed the second the door closes behind him.
It’s a stupid idea. He knows it. No one’s going to look at a cursed prince and deem him the love of their life. He’s always been content with staying inside the palace, with sticking to company who knew him well even if they handled him like porcelain.
Dior had once told him he treated the palace like it was a bubble.
Hoseok reasons there’s nothing wrong with living in a bubble if others before you have done it as well.
He doesn’t manage a step further in his thoughts before the door creaks open slowly. Kihyun pokes his head in, holding up several plastic bags branded with logos. “Happy birthday,” he says as he steps in. “You look pissed.”
Hoseok schools his face into a gentler expression, moving aside as Kihyun sits down on his bed. The mattress dips beneath his weight as he upturns the bags, scattering various sweets from across the kingdom. Hoseok picks out a lollipop, raising an eyebrow at Kihyun.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Kihyun says, snatching up a packet of dried berries. His lips curl up into a smile, softening his next words. “Be grateful I even got you anything at all.”
Hoseok throws the wrapper into Kihyun’s face with sparkling eyes. He picks out his favorites from the pile, bringing them into his lap. He finds it difficult to stay annoyed when there’s sweets to focus on.
“Any reason you looked so mad just now?” Kihyun asks, reaching across the bed to grab the remote. Hoseok shrugs at the question, picking at the wrapper to a chocoberry packet. Kihyun knows Hoseok like he knows the back of his own hand—familiar with every groove, scar and vein underneath his skin. He would figure out sooner or later.
“My mom wants me to go to Dalyang,” Hoseok signs. “They’re hosting events so the crown prince can find someone to marry.”
Kihyun makes a face, somewhere between understanding and knowing. It’s no secret to Hoseok that Kihyun is better suited for the royal world, and if he wasn’t so dedicated to Hoseok, if he had a better title to his name—something noble instead of ‘Royal Interpreter’, he could’ve conquered kingdoms all on his own. “I know you don’t want to hear that you should go,” Kihyun starts, and Hoseok immediately levels him with a glare. Kihyun continues unaffected. “But I think you should go. It could be good for you—make some new friends, and if you’re not making friends, then at least a few connections.”
“No one wants the number of a cursed prince,” Hoseok argues, hands throwing themselves into the words with pent-up frustration. “It’ll be pointless.”
“Well, think of it this way: we get to eat for free for a whole month.” Kihyun smiles, starlit and honest. “It won’t be totally pointless.”
Hoseok’s sharp glares melt away into muted laughter. He shakes his head and returns Kihyun’s smile. “We still eat for free anyways,” he signs. “Your point sucks.”
Kihyun shrugs. “We get to eat genuine foreign cuisine for free and you get to visit another country. I heard it’s nice around this time of the year.”
“I still think it’s pointless,” Hoseok signs. “But—you’ll come with me, right?”
“I didn’t learn an entirely new language to just leave you on your own in a foreign country,” Kihyun says, but his eyes are kind, earnest. “Of course I’m coming with you.”
They share a look, like they could take on the world—just the two of them. Hoseok knows if he were to thank the mage who cursed his family years ago for anything, it would be for Kihyun coming into his life.
“Stop looking at me so sappily,” Kihyun suddenly says, and Hoseok reels backwards from a pillow in his face.
It takes a week for a few maids to pack a month’s worth of categorized clothes into six suitcases. Hoseok had tried to argue that he didn’t need to bring so many clothes, but the cold looks he had received from the maids was enough to shut him up. They had all insisted on variety, pointing out that Dalyang was by the sea and he should be prepared for any and all scenarios.
Hoseok sits on the stone steps leading towards the driveway, watching as the servants brought the suitcases down to the car under the evening light. It all feels too surreal for him to have to leave so soon, and the feeling manifests into his leg incessantly moving. He’s too focused on his leg, distracted enough that he doesn’t notice his mother’s presence until she sits beside him. Hoseok turns to look at her, offers a cordial smile so she knows they won’t part on bad terms.
“Good luck,” she murmurs, taking his hands between her own. “I’m sorry there’s no other choice for you, but I hope that at least you’ll have some fun.”
Hoseok rolls his eyes playfully and tries to keep the bitterness out of his hands. “I’ll try.”
His efforts must pay off, because she looks relieved there’s no fight put up. “You’re all set, I hope?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Hoseok signs. “Where’s Dior?”
“In a meeting. She told me to tell you she loves you,” she says, before the driver presses down on the horn in one short burst. “I think that’s your cue to go.”
“I’ll call you,” Hoseok promises as he takes to the stairs. The passenger door opens from the inside—courtesy of Kihyun, who laughs easily when Hoseok almost smacks into the car. He scrambles inside the spacious vehicle, closes the door behind him and spares a glance back towards his castle. His mother is still sitting on the stairs, hand held up in a wave that Hoseok returns as soon as he manages to get the window down. He waves until his mother is out of sight, and the castle slips out of view.
The way to the train station is undisturbed. It’s a private route, meant for royals coming in and out of the country. Hoseok has only been here a few times compared to Dior, who’s no stranger to the part of the station assigned for royalty only. Soon enough, the car stops right outside the station and Kihyun and Hoseok step out, letting themselves be led into the train itself by a conductor.
Hoseok makes a beeline for the bed, slipping into the cocoon of cold, soft sheets. He knows, somewhat vaguely, that the train was scheduled to depart in half an hour. He wiggles to get a little more comfortable as Kihyun slides open the cabin doors.
“You’re not gonna eat dinner?” Kihyun asks. Hoseok shakes his head. “Do you want me to wake you up later?”
“No need,” Hoseok signs. “I’ll just go find something if I’m hungry.”
Kihyun nods before he moves to lounge across the sofa. The television flickers on a moment later, volume softened to a dull, barely audible hum that Hoseok tunes out. He curls up underneath the blanket, stares at his hands until the train lurches and starts moving. He continues staring at his hands until he drifts off to sleep, lulled by the rhythmic movement of the train and the white noise of the television.
When Hoseok wakes up, it’s just past breakfast. He sits up, rubbing at his eyes until the room comes into focus. Kihyun is fussing over something laid out on the carpet. Hoseok stretches until he feels as close to boneless as possible before sliding out of bed, padding across the floor until he crouches next to Kihyun.
“Good, you’re awake,” Kihyun says, barely glancing Hoseok’s way before he points to the two shirts. The one closest to Hoseok is white, with sleeves made of lace followed by leaves of rose gold along the bottom. The other is a duller pink in color, with solid sleeves. There’s less embellishments on this one. “Which pairs better with black leather?”
Truthfully, Hoseok doesn’t know. He’s never really had a chance to develop an eye for what pairs with what and slowly points to the white shirt, just because it looks less intimidating to wear than the other one. Kihyun makes a noise as he picks up Hoseok’s choice, scrutinizing it before nodding.
“Good choice. You should eat, by the way.” Kihyun unsteadily stands on his feet. “After you go wash up—you haven’t had anything since yesterday.”
Hoseok nods dutifully. He disappears into the bathroom and comes out clean and refreshed, moving for the table holding a silver platter. The plate holds something simple, a few sandwiches alongside a mug of tea. As he eats, Kihyun works through his phone, undoubtedly going over the itinerary for the month.
The view from the window begins to steadily shift, working its way through fields of green and rolling hills before towns start to crop up, building their way up to the trademark city that was the foundation for the kingdom of Dalyang. Hoseok catches a burst of brilliant blue behind the buildings and edges closer to the window, hands pressed against the glass. The view goes black as they move through a tunnel, the stark darkness reflecting back his wide eyes for a long moment before the tunnel begins to brighten.
The tunnel falls away to dazzling, dazzling blue melting into the horizon. Hoseok holds his breath, catching ships and specks of people and beautiful sand that shifts into water so clear he thinks it could be glass. In the distance, he sees the castle overlooking the waters. There’s no doubt that they’ve arrived into the oldest, richest kingdom on the continent.
The speakers in the hallway crackle to life as a voice announces their arrival at the station in a few moments. Kihyun’s eyes widen before he bursts into action, throwing the clothes back into a suitcase and zipping it shut. He hauls it out towards the cabin doors, stopping a passing servant with a few hurried instructions. The suitcase is taken away from Kihyun’s grip and he tosses Hoseok a simple black band that he catches, fastening it around his neck. Hoseok takes a moment to look in the mirror, tugging it down to cover the mark.
“Let’s go,” Kihyun says, pulling open the door. Hoseok follows him out into the hallway, bustling with servants and maids. The train slows to a halt as they reach the end of the carriage and the doors part open, bringing in a wash of salty sea air. Hoseok manages a breath in before Kihyun tugs at his arm, dragging him in the direction of a driver holding a placard with their names on it. He smiles at Hoseok and Kihyun before gesturing towards a car just outside of the station. “This way, please,” he says. “There’s a separate car waiting for your servants and luggage.”
The car is nice in a classic way, all sleek lines and shiny black with the unmistakable Son emblem on the hood. Hoseok can’t really appreciate it beyond the general aesthetics, but he pats the leather upholstery as he and Kihyun buckle their seatbelts. “It’s fancy,” he signs. Kihyuns snorts before leaning against the seat, eyes tracking the view from the tinted window.
“It’s only what you’d expect from the richest kingdom in the continent,” Kihyun signs. Hoseok raises an eyebrow, glancing towards his hands. “I don’t want him to hear me.”
Hoseok’s shoulders move in a silent burst of laughter. “You’re not supposed to use your knowledge of Lee sign language for things like this.”
Kihyun rolls his eyes before shrugging. “It’s fine. The ghost of your three times great grandmother isn’t going to come and haunt me for misusing the sign language she made,” he signs.
The palace Hoseok had seen earlier was much closer now, rising from the cliff tops as a sprawling mix of modern and old architecture. He catches the signature blue-green color of the Son family, accented against white marble before his attention is taken away by the sound of the gates parting open.
The whole kingdom stands reflective of the family’s wealth and status, and Hoseok can’t swallow down the feeling he doesn’t belong. It doesn’t matter that he carries the title of a prince—he feels like it has no hold in this court. He pushes the feeling down as soon as the car stops, expression shifting into a pleasant smile as the driver opens the door and a maid takes over, greeting them with a nod before she takes them towards the castle. Wooden doors open and she easily navigates the large space, taking them to the third floor through a large staircase.
Hoseok lets himself admire the architecture of the palace as they’re lead through hallways lit by large windows, head tilted back as he followed the line of carved arches stretching upwards. He bumps right into Kihyun, who looks over his shoulder with an amused expression that Hoseok returns. The maid unlocks the door to their room, passing the keys over to Hoseok and stepping aside to let them in. “If you need anything,” she says, “just use the phone on the table. Someone will come attend to your needs.” She parts with a bow, leaving Hoseok and Kihyun to marvel at their room.
Hoseok taps on Kihyun’s shoulder repeatedly, pointing to the window. “We have an ocean view!” His hands move excitedly as he rushes forward to unlatch the lock, pushing the window open. He ducks his head against the breeze that ruffles his hair, takes in salt and sea in one breath with a giddy smile. Their room overlooks a large garden but beyond the protective walls, Hoseok can see an endless stretch of ocean blue.
“It’s beautiful,” Kihyun says, coming to a stop beside Hoseok. He braces his hands against the windowsill. “But we can look later. You have to go get ready—the event’s starting soon and you’re nowhere near ready.”
Hoseok moves like he wants to sigh. “Five minutes,” he signs to himself as he turns away from the window. “Five minutes to admire the view.”
It feels a little like Hoseok’s on autopilot. He’s done the routine before; all he has to do is sit down in front of a mirror and others (usually Kihyun, since he doesn’t trust the other servants around Hoseok) will do his makeup, hair, dress him in an outfit that’s already been picked out. Hoseok feels no different now, staring at the reflection of his hands as Kihyun puts a delicate circlet on his head.
“You need to cut your hair.” Kihyun’s voice comes slightly muffled, words soft from behind the comb he has held between his teeth. Hoseok glances to the mirror, sees long strands of black just above his eyes and shakes his head. It’s an imperceptible movement, barely there, but he knows Kihyun will see it.
“It’s fine,” he signs. “I can still see.”
“Barely,” Kihyun murmurs. He puts the comb on the table and gives Hoseok’s hair a last run through with his fingers. “This’ll do,” he says. “You look good.”
Hoseok glances in the mirror. He looks like he was made for circlets engraved with moons and stars; for delicate, rosy makeup on his features. He looks like he’s always been familiar with diplomatic dinners and strategic balls, like he’s always exuded confidence and nobility. Hoseok doesn’t know if he should find it funny that he doesn’t feel like a prince despite having been born one.
The silence breaks with a soft knock on the door. A moment later, the same maid from before enters. “If you’re ready,” she says, “I can take you down to the grand hall.”
“Are you ready?” Kihyun asks. Hoseok takes a last look in the mirror, glances from the circlet to the white band of fabric around his neck to the lace covering his arms before he nods. Before he leaves, he takes his tablet, tucks it under his arm as he follows Kihyun and the maid out into the hallway.
The maid takes them down to the grand hall, stopping a few steps away from the open doors. Light conversation drifts out of the hall, mingled with laughter and music. “Just through here, your Highness.”
Hoseok feels Kihyun’s hand on the small of his back and forces himself to take a deep breath. His chest is uneasy with fear of unfamiliarity. He’s never had to attend an event in years, and knowing he was about to step back into the spotlight was a weight he wasn’t sure he could bear.
“Do you want to go back?” Kihyun’s voice cuts through the murky gloom. Hoseok shakes his head, takes a half-step forward.
“I can do it,” he signs. “I have to represent my kingdom.”
“Let me know if you need to leave,” Kihyun says.
The pounding in Hoseok’s heart doesn't subside. He’s too on edge, too busy avoiding eye contact that he can’t return the polite smiles offhandedly thrown his way. As soon as he steps across the threshold, he moves for the corner of the room, turned away from the crowd and groups of people. Kihyun picks off a plate of smoked salmon.
Hoseok lasts ten minutes of shifting his weight across his feet before he taps, When is this over? into his tablet, shoving it under Kihyun’s nose.
“I don’t know,” Kihyun replies. He glances towards the center of the room. “Midnight, maybe? Or earlier? They didn’t say.”
Hoseok nods. He can handle a few more hours, he thinks, as long as he stays in the corner with his shrimp and salmon. He holds the tablet against his chest, confident with his decision.
“...heard the cursed prince was here, have you seen him?” The words drift over the din of nobles, and the confidence flickers.
“No, I haven’t. I’d love to catch a glimpse of him though, I’ve heard rumors he’s more handsome than what the pictures show you. It’s too bad he can’t speak, though, I would’ve loved to introduce him to my daughter.”
Hoseok’s shirt wrinkles under his too-tight grip. He’s forgotten he’s nothing but someone to pity, someone to gawk over. He’s having a hard time swallowing. His chest hurts. The conversations start to get louder around him, nothing but snippets of ‘cursed’ and ‘prince’ and Hoseok wants to sink to his knees and hide and maybe throw up—
“Hoseok?” Kihyun touches his arm, and he looks to him shakily. “Let’s go outside.”
Kihyun guides Hoseok towards the open glass doors, nudging him into the direction of fresh air and cool breeze. Hoseok steps onto the grass and lets out a breath, his empty hand pressed to his chest. He still feels sick, and the party was too close behind him to feel like he was in the clear.
“You can go back inside,” Hoseok signs. He stumbles as he puts distance between him and the party. “I need—moment—me.” His hands are making no sense, choppy and unrefined but Kihyun understands, he always has, and he slips back into the hall as Hoseok runs.
Hoseok runs until he can’t hear the party behind him. He runs until he sees a maze, beckoning him closer with promises of hiding places and solace behind walls of green. Hoseok takes a step inside, and then he wanders. He walks and walks, running into dead-ends that give him a moment to breathe and taking turns that help redirect his thoughts into something he can untangle. He walks until he hears water, closer than the waves beyond the walls but softer that he knows it has to be something else.
He follows the sound, slow and careful until he finds himself in the center. The source becomes obvious—a relatively large fountain made of white marble, simple in its design. He takes a moment to admire it, eyeing the elegantly arched waterfalls until there’s a noise, like someone is halfway between surprised and curious, and Hoseok realizes he isn’t alone. He starts to back away until he steps on a twig and it snaps under his weight, easily breaking the moment.
“Wait, don’t go,” the man says, standing. “You can stay, please don’t let me being here stop you.”
Hoseok doesn’t move. He’s stuck between wanting to leave and taking the offer. He eyes the stranger warily.
“Are you okay?” The man asks, and there’s a gentle smile on his features, something warm and friendly. Hoseok nods his head. It’s instinct—never let others know when you’re upset—but he remembers the party and the nausea that threatened to drown him only minutes before and shakes his head. He’s not okay, not as long as he’s the subject of conversation.
The man doesn’t seem deterred by the lack of response and moves to sit down, patting the marble stone. “You’re free to sit down. It doesn’t have to be next to me, if you don’t want to. You can sit anywhere.”
Hoseok holds his tablet closer to his chest. He makes it play the role of a shield, all modern technology and coded difference against a stranger who looks like he sleeps on moonlight. There’s a careful nod before he walks quickly towards the opposite side of the fountain, sitting with his back against it.
The marble is warm against his back, no doubt from the sun earlier in the day. Hoseok peers over his shoulder, catching the eyes of the other man. He’s quick to look away, gaze darting towards the moon. He hears something like a laugh that abruptly cuts itself off and feels a flush rise to his cheeks and ears.
“This is a little bold of me to ask but,” the man says, “but can I take your hand? You look a little sick and I—I can help.”
Hoseok looks over his shoulder again, leveling the man with an incredulous look. He’s only met with an honest smile and sincerity in brown eyes. He finds the urge to say no isn’t as strong as he thought it would be. He turns back to his tablet and types What are you planning to do with my hand? Before showing it.
“Healing,” the man replies. “Or—something like it.”
Hoseok thinks he could use a little bit of healing.
He stands up and moves closer, sitting down at the fountain with some distance between them. He puts the tablet on his lap, doesn’t miss the way the man’s eyes flicker to his neck and then the tablet before Hoseok holds his hand out, fingers wiggling expectantly. The man laughs again, the same warm sound, before he takes it.
His palm is unexpectedly cool, like moonlight and the sea. His fingers interlace themselves with Hoseok’s, and it’s such an intimate gesture that he blushes. A moment passes and Hoseok feels nothing change in him. The skepticism grows and he almost tugs his hand away before small, star-like marks on the man’s shoulders begin to glow. Hoseok spots them trail down his back, a little patch of the universe on his skin. They’re striking underneath the sheer black of his button shirt, bright against the material. He watches with eyes wide, enthralled as the heavy feeling in his chest starts to melt away, replaced by something feather-light and kind.
Their hands naturally drift away and Hoseok’s eyes rest on the man again, recognition flooding him quickly. Every news article, every segment on the television comes to mind. This wasn’t some random stranger by the fountain who had kind eyes and a kinder smile. This was the crown prince of Dalyang.
Hoseok immediately stands, the tablet hitting the grass with a muffled thud. His eyes take in the man’s clothes, and he feels stupid for not realizing earlier. Only the Son family wore clothes with sheer panels, intended to show off their marks—their proof of abilities as lunar mages—the rarest type of mages in society. Hoseok should’ve known this was Son Hyunwoo, the only child of the family and the crown prince.
“I guess you’ve figured it out,” Hyunwoo says. “Do you feel better?”
Hoseok nods before he ducks to retrieve his tablet. He doesn’t know what to say now, cheeks pink with the embarrassment that it took him so long to realize who he was talking to. He settles for sitting down next to Hyunwoo and spots the way the prince’s posture immediately relaxes out of the corner of his eyes. He fights back a smile.
“You’re the silent prince, right?” Hyunwoo points to the tablet in Hoseok’s arms. “I saw you signing something with someone else.”
People usually call me the cursed prince. Hoseok types in response. He doesn’t let him into the identity of Kihyun. He figures he’ll share it when they meet. Hyunwoo frowns, leaning back on his hands just enough so he wouldn’t tip over into the water.
“Would you rather I call you the cursed prince then?” There’s a different tone to Hyunwoo’s voice now, strung between playful and questioning. Hoseok shakes his head.
Silent is a nice change. He types. I always thought ‘cursed’ was a little mean but it’s been the popular adjective for years.
“It is mean,” Hyunwoo insists. “But I’d rather call you something else other than the ‘silent prince’ or the ‘cursed prince’.”
Hoseok smiles, and if he could laugh—even if it was just a little—he would. Hoseok , he types into the tablet. You can call me Hoseok.
“Hoseok,” Hyunwoo repeats, like he’s trying the way it feels on his tongue. He looks up to the sky, like he’s lost in thought and Hoseok takes the chance to properly look, to trace the way he’s all delicate angles and earned nobility. Hyunwoo is handsome, Hoseok admits, and it’s easy to see why people have come out in droves for a chance at his hand in marriage—Hyunwoo had it all. He suddenly turns, too abrupt for Hoseok to act like he wasn’t staring. “Lee from Arada?” He asks.
One and only. He replies.
“I thought Dior usually went to these kinds of functions,” Hyunwoo says. It’s phrased like a statement, but Hoseok catches the questioning lilt at the end.
She’s engaged now, so I’m taking her place. Hoseok’s fingers drum against the tablet. His eyes are carefully trained on his shoes.
“I see,” Hyunwoo says. “I’m glad you decided to come.”
Hoseok has never heard these words before, not from someone who wasn’t from his own castle. He freezes, eyes widening by a fraction as gratitude swells within him. He doesn’t know how to reply, fingers clutching the tablet before he settles for a nod. He wants to say ‘no problem’ or ‘it wasn’t a choice’ or ‘thank you’, but the mark on his neck forces down silence. The moment passes and descends into silence. Hoseok doesn’t get to type another word out because someone eventually steps out of the maze and into the center, looking hassled.
“Prince Hyunwoo,” he says. “Here you are—the guests are starting to wonder where you’ve gone. They’re all here for you, remember.”
“It’s nice to see you too, Jooheon.” Hyunwoo stands up and glances over his shoulder to Hoseok. “I guess this is my cue to go. You can stay by the fountain, take your time to collect yourself. Don’t feel pressured to attend the party, okay?” He disappears beyond the greenery. Hoseok doesn’t miss the puzzled look that Jooheon gives him before he disappears too.
It takes a few moments for their footsteps to completely fade away. Hoseok sinks to the grass, back against the fountain walls. He tugs his knees to his chest, focusing on the lingering serenity within his chest.
For the most part, Hoseok believes the party could’ve gone worse.
A few days after the debut party, Hoseok finds himself wandering the labyrinthine halls of the castle in search of the kitchen.
He’s hungry, but he’s also nervous. The uneasy feelings had been sparking at him like a live wire all afternoon, and he figures an walk to the kitchen would help settle his nerves before the event at the beach.
Hoseok turns the corner in a hallway and bumps right into a solid mass, stumbling backwards before a hand steadies him at the waist. He’s quick to raise his tablet as a weapon before a familiar voice says, “Don’t hit me, please. You could get tried for treason.”
Hoseok blinks, peering over his tablet to see Hyunwoo. He looks unfazed by the fact Hoseok was about to smack him with his tablet and more like he wants to laugh. Hoseok plants both his feet on the ground and gently pushes Hyunwoo back. He pulls up his tablet to his chest and types, Only if you live to tell the tale.
Hyunwoo snorts. “Is that a threat?” He asks.
Hoseok shrugs sweetly. It brings another smile to Hyunwoo’s features though, so he doesn’t feel too worried.
“What are you doing walking around?”
I’m looking for the kitchen. Hungry.
“You’re going in the opposite direction, then,” Hyunwoo chides. “Want me to take you there?”
Hoseok nods and gestures for Hyunwoo to lead the way, easily falling into step beside him as he took to the direction Hoseok was just in. The walk is silent—not something uncomfortable or unbearable, but comfortable. Hoseok is grateful for it. Too many people tried to fill his lack of words with their own until they buckled under the pressure.
They take to a staircase when Hyunwoo suddenly asks, “Can you tell me about the curse?”
Hoseok pauses on the staircase long enough that Hyunwoo has reached the landing. He turns, eyes searching Hoseok’s until Hoseok taps into his tablet.
What do you want to know?
“How did it start? What does it mean for you?”
Hoseok bites his bottom lip. The history of the curse was somewhat common knowledge, used as an example in classes as what you shouldn’t do with your abilities if you were a mage. He sits down on the steps and gestures for Hyunwoo to sit next to him.
It happened a long time ago, when my kingdom was still new. The prince back then was arrogant and selfish and refused to help this solar mage, so he cursed him to never be able to speak and promised it would last for generations. I’m the latest to have it, so I can’t speak or make a sound.
Hyunwoo looks up from the tablet. His eyes glance down to Hoseok’s covered neck again. “You inherited it? Why didn’t Dior get it too?”
Hoseok nods. He returns to the tablet. If you have several kids, only one can inherit the curse. It’s random who gets it.
“Can I ask why you always cover up your neck, then?”
Hoseok’s hand drifts to the close-fitting band around his neck, feeling soft fabric beneath his fingertips and just beyond that, the warm mark on his neck. A slashed sun. Hoseok shakes his head. It’s the curse’s mark. I’m not comfortable showing it, even if some princes and princesses before me were.
“Do you know how to break your curse?” Hyunwoo suddenly asks, pausing to face Hoseok. It’s a question Hoseok has gotten so many times before, from family physicians to stranger politicians. He levels Hyunwoo with a scathing look before his fingers aggressively tap in a response.
If I knew, I would’ve broken it ages ago.
Hyunwoo shrugs with a smile before he says, “We could do it together. Two heads are better than one, or so I’m told.”
It’s never been broken. Hoseok tilts the screen away from Hyunwoo to add, Trust me, everyone who’s ever had it has tried. I’m not going to add myself to the growing list of princes and princesses who failed.
“You could be the first,” Hyunwoo says.
There’s something in the way Hyunwoo says it that makes Hoseok pause; optimism, conviction, like the future would bend to his will with just a nod of his head. He carries himself like a king—a king who’s already conquered the battlefield before the war has even started.
Hoseok shakes his head once. I don’t want you to waste your time.
“I wouldn’t be wasting my time,” Hyunwoo says. “I did offer, and I do want to help. It’d be a nice side quest to focus on when I have to deal with all these nobles and politicians throwing their children or themselves at me in hopes I’ll marry them.”
Hoseok’s shoulders shift like he wants to snicker. He types, I’ll think about it.
“That’s all I ask,” Hyunwoo says. His smile is easy, confident. Hoseok wonders where his certitude comes from. They sit in silence before Hoseok tugs at Hyunwoo’s sleeve, pointing to his stomach. Hyunwoo’s lips part in surprise and he scrambles up to his feet, holding a hand out to haul Hoseok to his feet. “I forgot, sorry. Let’s go.”
The kitchen ends up being an area of nonstop activity. Hoseok watches as Hyunwoo is greeted with scattered, hurried hellos that disappear before they’re ever fully said. He points to a cart of freshly baked strawberry tarts. “You want one of those?”
Hoseok nods eagerly and trades his tablet for the plate Hyunwoo passes over to him with a thankful nod. He stacks a few onto his plate, mouth practically watering at the smell of them. He hears Hyunwoo stifle a laugh behind him.
“Think you’re good to go?” Hyunwoo asks and Hoseok nods, steps dragging as he lets himself be led out of the kitchen and back into the hallway. “Do you need help going back or are you fine?”
Hoseok manages to give an ‘OK’ sign with his hand without dropping his plate. He shifts the plate to one hand, balancing it against his chest as he makes grabbing motions for his tablet, which Hyunwoo reluctantly passes over.
“I’ll see you at the beach, Hoseok.”
“I don’t trust him,” is what Kihyun says as soon as Hoseok finishes recounting his interactions with Hyunwoo. “First, you both meet in a maze where he—what did he do?”
“Healed me?” Hoseok signs, but he’s not sure he wants to call it that. “Relieved me of my emotional burdens?”
“I guess.” Kihyun throws up his hands. “Then what? He wants to help you break your curse just like that? No one is that selfless, Hoseok. No one.”
Hoseok shrugs. He puts another strawberry tart in his mouth to look busy.
Kihyun, unfortunately, sees right through that. “You’re cursed to be silent, Hoseok, that’s why you speak with your hands!” He runs a hand through his hair and Hoseok can’t help but feel like the whole situation is comical. “Just—be cautious of Hyunwoo. You never know.”
“What’s he gonna do?” Hoseok signs. “He can’t tear me down anymore than anyone with a title to their name can.”
Kihyun doesn’t look convinced, so Hoseok adds, “I’ll be careful, I promise. I can hold my own.”
“Sometimes, I just wish…” He trails off, shaking his head and standing up. “Make sure you wash your hands when you’re done eating, and change into the clothes on the hanger. I’m gonna go shower, okay? Then we’ll go down to the beach.”
The door to the bathroom closes with a soft click. Hoseok stuffs another tart into his mouth. Hyunwoo had given him the air of sincerity, mirroring a just king from the earlier days. It was somewhat hard to see him stab Hoseok in the back, especially when there was nothing to gain other than a small, struggling kingdom next to a river. Hyunwoo just didn’t give Hoseok the impression of someone who could do harm.
He did, however, give Hoseok the impression that he could open the doors to countless possibilities. Hoseok had entertained the idea of trying to break his curse once or twice, especially when he was younger and jealousy was his only companion. He hasn’t touched that thought in recent years though, having resigned himself to solitude.
But he guesses, or he wants to guess, that maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try, especially if Hyunwoo said it like he could mold the past, present and future on his own. Hyunwoo made him believe, even for a second. He made it sound like breaking the curse was the easiest thing in the world.
When they walk down the sand-covered steps leading down to the beach, Hoseok notes that it’s packed with nobles already. He doesn’t miss the way they turn to look at him, doesn’t miss the subtle judgement and the way their conversations veer to put him at the center. He feels the firm, steady grasp of Kihyun’s hand on his and squeezes back in reassurance as they take their spot to the back, closer to the tables.
This close to the crowds, Hoseok can catch clearer snippets of conversation. Most of them didn’t know Hoseok was even there, words twisting to sound curious when they were disguising sharp comments. Hoseok ducks his head to avoid their looks as Kihyun moves to stand in front of him, shielding him from anymore unwanted looks.
The air is filled with the soft tap of a microphone, and Hoseok looks up as the king and queen smile at their guests. The king taps the mic again to the chagrin of his wife, and he sheepishly smiles at her before he says, “Thank you for coming, everyone.”
“As you all know, Hyunwoo will be ascending to the throne as soon as summer ends.” The crowd politely claps before the king continues, “Ideally, we’d like for him to be married before then, so our kingdom has the strength of two monarchs instead of one. That’s precisely why we’ve decided to throw this month long event, so that he may find someone worthy to rule beside him.”
The claps return this time, and Hoseok thinks the eyes of the crowd have shifted into something to look almost predator-like.
“Prince Hyunwoo, if you would like to say a few words.”
Hoseok watches as Hyunwoo steps onto the stage, shoulders squared as he took the microphone. “I don’t have much to say,” Hyunwoo starts, “but thank you so much for accepting the invitation. It means a lot to my family and I that so many people are here. We hope you’ll enjoy the event, and most importantly, enjoy yourselves.”
Hoseok guesses that must’ve been the cue for something, because music starts with a slow crescendo and waitstaff start to mingle with the crowd, holding up trays with various drinks. Hoseok leans closer to Kihyun before signing, “Good thing it’s not windy. Can you imagine drinking all this sand?”
Kihyun snorts as he kicks at the sand. “Some of these people would deserve it.”
As the event carries on, Hoseok and Kihyun find themselves in the corner again, seated at a table for two. They’re deep in conversation about squids until another voice interrupts, clearly directed to his own group but loud enough that he’s intent on getting their attention.
“It’s embarrassing, isn’t it?” He says, and Hoseok hears haughty laughter follow. “It’s almost as if his parents want shame to be brought upon their family.”
“He’s cursed, who would want him around as a spouse? You wouldn’t be able to talk with him at all.”
Hoseok’s eyes immediately drop to the table, focusing on the glow of his tablet. A wave washes over him, taking him down to the depths of his own self-doubt and fear. The event starts to get blocked out. He hears nothing except the deafening crush of silence, the rising white noise. He barely registers Kihyun jumping off his chair and approaching the group, sliding off his own chair and backing away. Kihyun’s voice comes muffled, tone approaching something that sounds pleading but Hoseok has turned his back on him—on them, and he takes off.
Hoseok runs until he ends up back in the castle gardens. His feet take him straight towards the maze, where he loses himself in more dead-ends than last time. He can’t hear anything except the thundering of his own heart, the loop of taunts that have followed him for a lifetime. He bursts out of the maze and into the center, stumbling over his feet and crashing to the grass.
He slows. Hoseok drags himself to all fours before he staggers to his feet, slowly moving towards the fountain until he collapses against it. He curls up, knees digging into stone. It’s painful, sharp and unrelenting and it does nothing to tide him over.
He hears the distant sound of footsteps come closer towards the maze until Kihyun’s hands shake his shoulder. He blearily looks up from his arms, only now realizing the tears that have tracked their way down his features. Behind Kihyun stands Hyunwoo, his own expression tense with worry.
“Are you okay?” Kihyun asks. “Do you want to go home? We can go, I’ll set everything up and we’ll be on our way tonight.”
Hoseok shakes his head. “I’m tired,” he signs. “I’m tired of feeling like this just because of this stupid curse. I’m tired of running away and of being overwhelmed and of—” His hands abruptly stop. He blinks against the onset of tears.
Kihyun’s features soften as he pulls Hoseok into a hug. Hoseok lets himself melt against his chest, clutching his shirt before he pulls away, wiping at his tears. He meets Hyunwoo’s eyes.
“Please tell Hyunwoo I’ll take his offer,” Hoseok signs. “I want your help in breaking this curse, so no one else has to feel the same way I did.”
Kihyun translates his words easily, looking to Hyunwoo for his reaction. Hoseok’s fingers dig into his thighs as he waits, and then Hyunwoo nods. The relief that surges through Hoseok is almost overwhelming, even if Hyunwoo had been the one to offer in the first place. He looks down to his hands until Hyunwoo crouches next to him.
“Do you want to take my hand?” He asks, and Hoseok looks up at him before holding a hand out, letting Hyunwoo intertwine his fingers with his.
Hoseok focuses on Hyunwoo’s shoulders, waits for those star-like marks to appear like real stars did when the sun sank beneath the horizon. He focuses on the serenity that Hyunwoo draws out from within him, swallowing up the negativity. After a moment, their hands drift apart and Hyunwoo sits back on the grass.
“What did you do to him?” Kihyun asks.
“Magic,” Hyunwoo replies. “I drew out the positive feelings in him, made them a little louder so he can’t focus on the negative feelings overwhelming him.”
“You can do that?”
“Lunar mage,” Hyunwoo replies, tugging on his sleeve. The shirt shifts, exposing more of the almost invisible marks dotting his shoulders and back. “It’s a family thing.”
Kihyun stays quiet, and Hoseok can see the gears in his head turning. Hyunwoo looks behind him to the entrance of the maze, frowning slightly before he stands.
“I have to go now,” he says. “I ran out on my own party and my parents won’t be happy about that. Hoseok, I’ll talk to you about the curse breaking later, okay? I’ll send some food up for you guys too.”
Hyunwoo turns to leave, throwing one last worried look in Hoseok’s direction. He tries to ease Hyunwoo’s worries with a smile that he returns. The maze falls into silence again as Kihyun rubs Hoseok’s back soothingly.
“Wanna go back to our room now?” Kihyun asks. Hoseok nods, and they both rise to their feet, leaving the fountain behind them. Hoseok feels like he’s left something unfinished, but a glance over his shoulder gives him no answer as he and Kihyun make their way out of the maze.