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Seokjin didn’t like showing his emotion on his face.

Showing emotion meant letting emotion have control over you, even if briefly, and that was a weakness, a vulnerability. Vulnerability meant you were open to attack, open to letting others take the advantage.

As the eldest prince to a formidable kingdom, he couldn’t allow himself to be so vulnerable. So he practiced and performed with a passive, controlled expression whenever he was in front of the courts, he was dutiful in his studies, his responsibilities, and maintained his composure at all times. As the eldest, he was next in line for the throne, and that included a lot of responsibilities, filling his days and his mind, leaving room for little else. There were three people in the world to whom Seokjin didn’t mind revealing his true expressions to -- his younger brother Namjoon was one of those people.

“You have a reputation among the people,” Namjoon told him one morning as they walked the gardens together. “They call you the Snow Prince.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you look delicate but cold,” Namjoon said slowly. “And beautiful.”

Seokjin scoffed at that, even though his chest constricted at the almost back-handed compliment. “None of those are very important to ruling, though. The kingdom of Tora’s prosperity doesn’t depend on how pretty their leader is or is not.”

“Very true,” Namjoon nodded, then halted their walk and turned to his brother. “But how cold or warm their leader is may affect its allies.”

The moment of silence hung between them, taut like a thread being pulled. “You’re speaking of the threats from Bravania, are you not? I’m well aware that they now have the political strength to try to shake our claims on the island territories, but they assuredly do not have the military power. It would be foolish for them to test Tora’s strength. Especially when we have you as Admiral, protecting the east side.” Seokjin patted his brother on the shoulder, hand pausing at the thick insignia on his shoulder displaying Namjoon’s rank. “You worry about the sea, I will worry about the land. That is how it has always been for us, the princes of Tora, right?”

“Seokjin,” Namjoon said quietly, “They may not have the military, no, but I’m not talking about that. If Bravania makes a move, it’s not going to be on a battlefield. We have already made an impression with the other kingdoms as a military force, and I doubt others are going to question that. What I am talking about, Seokjin…” Namjoon took a breath, his gaze flickering away from the crown prince as though nervous. “Is that because of our and our father’s focus on military might, we have more than just weakened our foreign relations. One could say we have outright neglected them. Some do say so, in fact.”

At that, Seokjin’s lips pursed in just slightly, the only sign of distaste on his face as he turned and kept walking, his polished shoes creating thick echoing clacking sounds against the cobblestone. “And your proposal for remedying this is…?”

“Seokjin, it wouldn’t hurt to reconsider mother’s offer. About the festival.”

“Your ‘solution’ to Bravania is to hold a festival as a subterfuge for finding someone to marry me off to?” Seokjin’s words sounded pinched in the air, clipped and impatient as Namjoon let out a sigh. His brother was more than a little stubborn when he wished to be, often spurned on by his competitive nature. It was something he had inherited from their father, although Namjoon dared not say that aloud to Seokjin himself, at the risk of inspiring Seokjin’s rare anger.

“All I am suggesting is that you consider it,” Namjoon compromised. “You have said yourself you don’t have the time to devote to petty things such as love, why not use it at least to push Tora ahead politically, and make her stronger?”

Seokjin considered, remaining silent as they came to the end of the gardens and walked back into the main house. Namjoon waited, following his brother as they walked back into the parlor they knew best, the one they had frequented together since they were just boys. Seokjin sat at his desk, pulling out sheaves of paper and preparing for his afternoon of paperwork. But before he could lay pen to paper, he sat back and looked up at Namjoon.

“Tora is the love of my life,” Seokjin said quietly, slowly. “I will do anything for her.”

Namjoon smiled, his lips spread wide as he nodded.

“But if, and only if, ” Seokjin held up one long finger in warning, “It proves to be a good match for the sake of the kingdom. Crown prince or not, we are not in so dire a state that my hand is something to just give away to the first caller.”

“Seokjin,” Namjoon chuckled, leaning both palms down onto the table and smirking at his elder brother. “You and I both know well enough that you’ll have more than a ‘first caller,’ you have had neighboring kingdoms vying for a match with you since we were boys. There will probably be hundreds attending the festival.”

That made Seokjin flush, a slight color rising to his neck and cheeks as he fumbled with papers to distract himself. “That doesn’t change anything. Don’t you have a hunt this afternoon? Your dog has been anxious.”

Namjoon just smiled, inclining his head towards his brother in respect as he went to leave, “I do, and he’s only anxious because Jjangu won’t leave him alone.”

“It’s not my fault the rascal is going to live forever,” Seokjin commented. Jjangu had been their mother’s dog, but Seokjin had always had a soft spot for it, even though Jjangu at this point was an old dog with all the expected crabbiness that came along with those years of enduring longevity.

“I suppose not,” Namjoon paused, looking over at his brother already buried into writing a letter. “I’ll see you tonight, then?”

“Hm?” Seokjin looked up after a notable five second delay, blinking owlishly at Namjoon. “Oh, yes, of course. I’ll see you then.”

Namjoon hesitated in the doorway, considering making a further comment, but his brother was already sinking back into his work, a soft mumble as one of his assistants walked into the parlor.

“It also wouldn’t hurt,” Namjoon breathed, speaking so only he himself could hear, “If someone could melt off that mask of yours, Seokjin.”

~~~~~

“Jimin!” Jeongguk grabbed his older brother by the ribs from behind, making the prince jump nearly a foot into the air and let out an adorable yelp that had Jeongguk laughing merrily. “What are you doing?”

“I’m packing, you brat, “Jimin tried to sound fierce as he glared at Jeongguk, but for the younger, Jimin was all hard attempts and soft edges, like a rounded die or a statue worn down until its features were faded. This view of Jimin was not particularly accurate, but it was the one the youngest prince had of him, as he nuzzled up against him from behind and hooked his chin over the man’s shoulder. The soft red velvet beneath his jaw was plush and comforting, and he watched Jimin inspecting the layout of clothes on the bed for a few moments.

“Is Tora very far?”

“Mm, pretty far. It’ll take a few weeks by ship, and then we have some time to travel by land before we reach their capital.”

“Is Prince Seokjin really that handsome?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen him. But everyone says he is.”

“Has Yoongi ever seen him?”

“No, none of us have, actually. Father once met their father, but it was years ago, when he was still working on his studies.”

“I’m going with you.”

Jimin frowned, his brow crinkling as he patted his brother’s hair. “No, Jeongguk, you are not.”

The youngest, always having a slight propensity for coercing without meaning to, just gave a broad toothy smile. “Yes, I am. I already talked to father about it. He said it wouldn’t do any harm for me to go.”

He felt Jimin sigh, then Jeongguk flopped down onto the bed, jostling half of Jimin’s clothes and making him verbally reprimand him. There was a soft knock at the door, and a familiar tanned face poked into the room, a smile on his face.

“Are the princes decent?” Taehyung inquired, stepping into the room.

“You would have come in, even if we were not,” Jimin retorted casually.  “Did you find the button?”

In reply, Taehyung held out his hand, where three or four buttons lay in his wide palm, surprisingly softer and more gentle than most who held his station. “I found three that look close, if not, there’s a set of all-new buttons, but they won’t suit the trim very well.”

“Alright, perfect. Let’s try them out.” Jimin held out the sleeve of his jacket, and Taehyung took it to the corner of the room, where the candlelight was strongest.

“What will Yoongi do if prince Seokjin doesn’t choose him?” Jeongguk queried, rolling over onto his stomach so he could rest his chin in his hand.

“Then I suppose we come home fruitless,” Jimin frowned, crossing his arms as he watched Taehyung sew the button back on. ”And we lose another chance at a connection that could protect our kingdom.”

“I don’t see why marriage is so important,” Jeongguk sighed, fiddling with the large star-shaped design on one of Jimin’s favorite brocade vests. “Father has plenty of money, he could always just buy mercenaries to protect the kingdom.”

“The amount of money is the problem itself.” Jimin shook his head. Jeongguk was a fast learner, this was true. But being the youngest, there was less responsibility and less pressure thrown against him, which meant he was less likely to pay full attention during the long, often uneventful conferences they were required to attend. Jimin couldn’t quite blame him, though. The only thing Jeongguk was believed to be destined for was to be a forever prince, the last of seven, with no prospects or expectations. “Father has been extremely good at making the kingdom’s money grow, but being nouveau riche is precisely what would make us all the more tempting. Mercenaries are not a go-to, but a last resort. They are motivated only by money, and therefore can’t be trusted. Father knows this, and that’s why he wants to build military might based on strategy and long-term loyalty, not monetary gain. We’re on good terms with surrounding kingdoms, but that certainly doesn’t promise us safety, should there be war.”

“I know,” Jeongguk exhaled, in a way that told Jimin in so many words that he didn’t . The prince sent his older brother a grim smile. ‘’If only he had been as conservative with prince-making as he had been with his military.’ “

Jimin spun on his heel, eyes flashing with a sharpness. “Excuse me?”

“That’s what the people say,” Jeongguk shrugged. “I get it. Seven is the unlucky number for our kingdom, many are worried that I’ll bring father bad luck, so he should have stopped at you.”

The elder prince frowned in disapproval at his brother, but was hard-pressed for any sort of reassurance or comfort that hadn’t already been repeated since Jeongguk’s birth. Jeongguk had been born under one of their most unlucky autumnal stars, in the 97th year of their kingdom’s reign, and a seventh son in addition. While not openly stated, it was often whispered that Jeongguk hadn’t been expected to survive infancy, as the horrifying luck which oft followed the “unlucky sevenths” was seen as inescapable.

“You’re not unlucky, you’re my baby brother,” Jimin said firmly, smacking the boy on the arm. “And I consider myself lucky to have you.”

Jeongguk grimaced in such a way that suggested he was incapable of taking Jimin’s words too much to heart.

“Besides,” Jimin continued, playing with the numerous jeweled rings on his fingers. “Luck has nothing to do with what you do with your life. We make our own luck, our own fate and it’s called hard work.”

Taehyung, meanwhile, pressed his lips tightly together, sending a nod to the youngest prince. “True. But being born a little lucky does help.”

Jeongguk relinquished a sigh, his thumb running across the diamond-make star on the brocade vest, which featured in every coat of arms and ceremonial garb they had ever worn. If there was a way to change his luck, alter his own fate, then perhaps it was time for Jeongguk to seek it out.

~~~~~

Trumpets blared, and Seokjin’s feet were killing him.

The elaborate military jacket he wore was heavy and hot under the afternoon sun. The stiff dark blue collar that tucked up to the underside of his chin, with its golden tiger emblem shimmering in the brightness, hid a thick layer of sweat and aggravation which he refused to allow beyond the dull gleam that reflected in his eyes. A black cape hung off one broad shoulder, draping down to about mid-waist, a thick leather strap holding it in place as it was drawn over his chest, clipped onto his wide belt. He waited at the main entrance to the palace, his arms crossed behind his back as stood to greet every party of guests, welcoming them to Tora. He had already greeted the Moreaus, the Riccis, and what had appeared to be the entirety of the Chou family. The last due in today were the Min family, coming from the south-eastern Daioka kingdom. After that, he could finally rest - or at least, return to other, more valuable work (which he would thankfully be able to accomplish while seated). In preparation for the week-long festivities, the palace would be hosting the entirety of the royal parties, and Seokjin (being the officiated host and the primary responsible party) was required to welcome each family individually. Since the exact arrival of each was uncertain, he had been waiting around for the last three days.

The sight of the carriage pulling into the main gate, kicking up a thin cloud of dust in the distance, brought a sigh of relief to the crown prince’s mouth, and he readjusted his shoulders, straightening up a little more and keeping his face painted into the smile he had been warming with practice all week. Namjoon, standing at his side, saw the expression and laughed a little.

“You are ready for the day’s greetings to be finished, I assume?”

Seokjin turned to his brother, the edges of his eyes crinkling just slightly, a signal of his mirth that was as apparent to Namjoon as if he had swung a brightly-colored flag in the younger prince’s face.

“It’s more than a little draining,” Seokjin said quietly.

“You should go out for a ride later, take the chance while you are able,” Namjoon suggested, knowing the calming effects it could have on his brother.

“But what about the arrangements for dinner and the--?”

“Let me take care of it for a few hours,” Namjoon smiled, patting his brother’s arms and offering that wide-lipped grin, tilting his chin forward a bit with confidence. “We can spare you for a few hours, and besides, the festival starts tomorrow. You should try to be in the best possible condition.” The prince gave his brother a little wink, squeezing his arm. “You’re going to need it.”

Seokjin let out a deep sigh, and smiled. A pure, real, and (for just the briefest moment) unrestrained smile blossomed across his face. “Thank you,” he breathed.

Namjoon blinked softly up at his brother, nodding. “If you smiled at all the guests that way,” he chuckled, “No one would be able to resist you.”

“Very amusing,” Seokjin rolled his eyes, turning towards the steps as the carriage came to stop. In moments, his cool, calm expression returned, washing over his face.

The announcement of the Min family’s arrival was called out by a footman, and Seokjin leaned over to his right just as Hoseok, his valet, places his mouth close to the prince’s ear.

“The Min family are heirs to the Daioka kingdom, which is only about a dozen generations old,” Hoseok whispered, his practiced mouth barely moving. “Today you’ll be greeting his second eldest, Yoongi, and the second to youngest and youngest, Jimin and Jeongguk respectively. Their father is friends with yours, from their schooling years. Mostly neutral or positive influences on neighboring kingdoms. About twenty-five years ago, not long after the eldest prince was born, they came across an entire mithril mine, which makes them now one of the richest in all the Collective.”

Seokjin blinked, a little surprised, considering the carriage was at least ten years outdated in style, and more simplistically decorated. A dark blue flag with its 9 pointed star waved from the roof. A man reached for the carriage door.

“Is their king quite miserly, or does he not like his sons?” Seokjin breathed. Hoseok chuckled at his side.

“Quite miserly, they say. Or at the very least, as practically minded as your royal Highness. But he has a right to be, in my humble opinion. He is trying to set aside fair inheritance for all seven of his sons.”

“Seven?” Seokjin shook his head just slightly, plastering on the practiced smile. “Impressive. That must be why he has sent the second eldest, then. Obtain further inheritance, while also reassuring their firstborn will be kept safe beneath our military protection.”

“Naturally,” Hoseok murmured, smirking a little as he turned his head a little more, his breath tickling Seokjin’s ear. “Your smile looks a little too much like a grimace. Try to relax.”

“I am relaxed,” Seokjin managed, his lips barely moving from the semblance of a smile. Hoseok just chuckled gently, stepping back as the announcements were finishing.

“Presenting his Highness, prince of Daioka, Yoongi Min.”

The pale man that stepped from the carriage with a steady and self-assured demeanor blinked almost accusingly up at the bright sunlight that met him, starting up the steps toward the front entrance. Seokjin studied the man’s face, unsure how to assess a face as carefully blank as his own. The man’s clothing was deceptively simple, with only the trimmed details truly suggesting to Seokjin’s trained eye the wealth and taste that his family possessed. His bow held all the usual graces, broad shoulders despite the slight difference in their heights. Seokjin bowed in return, drawing back slowly and allowing his smile to fade. Just from the momentary scrutiny that passed between them, there was an unspoken understanding. Neither of them were there to pass the time with frivolities anymore than necessary, although prince Yoongi’s upturned lips were not so in distaste but in inquiry. Seokjin felt a bit reassured, seeing in Yoongi’s eyes what could be considered his equal in grace and attentiveness, if nothing else. He mentally added Yoongi Min to his list, making a small gesture with his hand behind his back that he knew Hoseok had seen, and taken note of.

“And presenting their highnesses, princes of Daioka, Jimin Min and Jeongguk Min.”

It was the polite thing to do, accept his brothers as properly as the prince himself, so Seokjin kept his smile pasted on as first Jimin and then Jeongguk exited the carriage, making their way up the steps. Jimin was small in stature, like his elder brother, but carried a strong aura of power that made Seokjin wonder if he was one to watch. He smiled, however, with genuity and warmth in such a way, and bowed with such emotive elegance, that Seokjin could only wish himself capable of hating Jimin Min. Instead, he found himself only jealous of that sort of air which naturally recommended the second-youngest Min to others, allowed him to smile broadly and without restraint, and charm in a wordless way.

The youngest Min, blinking wide-eyed up at the intimidating palace walls which Seokjin had had a lifetime to grow accustomed to, almost amused Seokjin enough for the edges of his lips to twitch in sincere amusement. Almost. The boy was young, and handsome as his brothers, and easily the tallest of the three, but with parted lips and an open, unshielded expression that suggested much innocence and naivety. He was quite obviously the baby of the family, a proper but protected prince.

Seokjin bowed to both of them, exchanging the typical greetings of goodwill with Yoongi, neither of them much meeting each other’s eyes. When Yoongi turned to pass on a letter from his father to Namjoon, for the King of Tora to receive, Seokjin chanced another curious glance to the younger two. Jimin was standing, full of attentiveness and intense eyes that he attempted to downplay by keeping his gaze angled downward. Meanwhile, Jeongguk was watching a Monarch butterfly that was fluttering around one of the large stone statues that guarded the entrance, his mouth agape as he stared brazenly. Seokjin pressed his lips together to suppress a smile, unsure why he felt compelled to make a comment about the butterfly, as unnecessary as it was to this transaction.

“Jimin, look!” Jeongguk whispered, tapping on his brother’s shoulder and pointing after the butterfly. Jimin sent Jeongguk a confused look, then followed the line of Jeongguk’s finger.

At the wonderment in the youngest prince’s gasp, Seokjin felt something in his chest constrict a little, like the times he had been struck during combat training, and Seokjin fought to even his breath. Brushing aside the feeling as a momentary lapse, or a secondary pain caused by the heat of the afternoon, Seokjin turned his attention back to welcoming Yoongi and passing along the little nothingness comments wishing them to enjoy the festivities to their fullest.

“I am sure you are tired from the journey,” Seokjin managed smoothly, trying to mentally relax his face as Hoseok as suggested, “So please feel no pressure, should you wish to eat in your chambers, rather than the dining hall. Supper should be served at seven, although of course you may ask any of the servants for anything else you need, no matter the hour of the day.” He gave adequate pause for politeness, counting the seconds in his head before bowing, “Now, I’m afraid you must excuse me, I have some matters regarding the upcoming festivities to attend to.”

He couldn’t wait to get away, rushing toward the stables at the earliest possible moment, his valet close behind him with his riding crop. The formal, unforgiving ceremonial garb had been quickly abandoned in favor of his well-worn riding clothes, a spring returning to his step as they neared the heavy, earthy smell of hay and sweat.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to accompany you?” Hoseok queried, even as he looked worriedly at the large beasts poking their heads from the stall doors. Hoseok hated riding, and always had. It just so happened that it was one of the few ways Seokjin could let off some steam, so Hoseok usually asked out of courtesy, rather than any actual eagerness to go. A stablehand walked a dark brown horse out, already saddled.

“I’ll be back in plenty of time for supper,” Seokjin said, reaching out to gently place his hand on the head of his beloved horse, her large dark eyes blinking at him in understanding. “Have my clothes laid out about an hour beforehand.”

“Understood, your Highness,” Hoseok smiled, keeping a safe distance as Seokjin slipped his booted foot into the stirrup, pulling himself up easily. “And enjoy your ride.”

“As always,” Seokjin winked at Hoseok, grinning in a way that caused the lines around his eyes to deepen into laughter-caused wrinkles he had been hiding since boyhood. Having been his confidante and trusted companion for almost twenty years, Seokjin believed that the man with the broad smile and the intelligent eyes had earned the right to be the second out of three people in the world who could see Seokjin’s emotions expressed openly. And Hoseok was certainly one of the best at drawing those expressions out, with his laughter and good-nature. Hoseok was like a brother, like a proud mother, and like a ridiculous and easily humored best friend, all wrapped up in a sharp-angled body that emanated elegance and understanding. Hoseok, of all people, understood.

Seokjin dug his heels in, aiming the horse’s head at the already opened gate on the edge of the wooden fences that made up the horse pastures, and leaned in to the black mane of hair. “Let’s go, Jadu!”

As they ran off at a breakneck speed, the smile still on his face, Seokjin didn’t see the figure leaning against the window from the palace’s east wing, watching in curiosity.

Seokjin supposed that Hoseok was hoping he would use the ride to think through the now-completed list of attending guests, to mentally run through their growing compilation of positive and negative points, and weigh from that a direction to proceed. But marriage, the lists, his duties, and even Tora herself were left behind him, abandoned by his mind as he buried himself in blissful blankness, the freedom that came with feeling Jadu between his legs, the wind stinging at his eyes and the beauty of the unruined fields before them. Jadu’s pounding feet, the clattering of the dark leather dressings, her heavy breathing as she raced along the field, took Seokjin’s breath away no matter how many years passed. Jadu had been a treasured gift for Seokjin’s 20th birthday, and even now she was one of his most prized possessions. They had an understanding, a poise in the presence of others with an underlying wildness that would only be kept contained, never defeated nor quenched. It was what made Seokjin good at being the prince in charge of protecting land, as his brother handled the seas. It was what made him remember that he was alive.

They slowed down at a particular tree well known to them, a plum tree that sat at the low end of a field. He allowed Jadu to catch her breath, using the moment to eagerly slip from his confining red riding vest, revealing only a loose, white buttoned shirt underneath. The softness of the material bunched at his wrists, the top several buttons quickly loosened to reveal the smooth skin at his collar. He hung the heavy red jacket, with its silver buttons and confining cuffs, from a branch of the tree, his hat soon following. With a relishing sigh, he sat back into the saddle, one hand holding the reins loosely against the horn, and took a moment to let the breeze chill him, cool and inconsistent. The wind tugged at his hair, dried his lips, lifted his spirits. Jadu’s head was angled toward the ground, sniffing at the fallen rotting fruit there, her hide shivering purposefully and deterring the persistent flies away as she searched in vain for a decent fruit.

“There’s better ones on the tree,” Seokjin chuckled, beaming proudly down at his Jadu, patting her neck lovingly. “Let’s see if we can make it to the shore before we have to head home, okay?”

In reply, Jadu lifted her head, twitching one dark ear back towards her master. She waited for the click of his tongue before she started off, and by the time they hit the second hill leading up and away from the field, she was at a full run again, seemingly tireless, her gait graceful. There was one final obstacle to overcome, in the form of a fence made out of aged tree trunks, signifying the edge of the grounds they were supposed to stay on. Seokjin leaned forward into Jadu’s neck as far as the jostling ride would allow, and Jadu barely even blinked as she cleared the fence easily, sending Seokjin’s stomach into his throat in a delightful way that tickled at his body as well as his emotions. The wind tugged at his hair, dried his lips, lifted his spirits, allowed him freedom as he laughed into the wind without fear. Beyond the thin lining of ugly pines he knew the foliage would thin, the dry ground beneath their feet would clear away into sand. Within the hour they reached the shore, an ocean roaring and waving to greet them, the late afternoon sun setting before their eyes.

Seokjin allowed Jadu to slow, carefully treading their way down until the horse’s hoofprints were left thickly in the wet sand. The waves rushed up around Jadu’s long legs, the sound pounding in at his ears as Seokjin smiled, closing his eyes and inhaling a deep breath of the salt air. The shore seemed to stretch on forever, curving and bending as though parts of it had been weaker to the ocean’s pull, creating an uneven line for their slow walk.

The longer they wandered along the shoreline, the more relaxed and even Jadu’s breathing beneath him became, the more (unfortunately) Seokjin’s mind wanted to trail back to the matters at home. He didn’t want to go back and spend a week entertaining, holding the fake smile mask on at all hours of the day, making endless but necessary lists with Hoseok, evaluating people who were evaluating him. If he could have just left Namjoon to choose a match for him and spent the next several days here on the shore, he would have been absolutely blissful. The weight that normally rested against his shoulders only seemed to soften its hold when he was alone with Jadu, a reminder of the boyhood days where he had been less self-aware, less trusted completely by others. It was a pleasant memory that lingered, of a more selfish self, that just wanted to indulge and scream into the salt air.

Without any real reason, Seokjin threw his head back and yelled wordlessly, formlessly into the roar of the waves, making Jadu shuffle about with a nervous twitch of her ears. It caused a laugh to bubble out of Seokjin, and he shouted again, half-rising in the saddle and stretching his hands to the sky. He let all the sound out, laughter and screams alike, until he felt the warning tickle in his throat, and saw the sun nearing the horizon, burning at his gaze with the intensity with which he wished he could live his life. But things couldn’t be rushed, they couldn’t be forced. He was a small power against the sea, against the entirety of the world, and sometimes, on days like today, he needed to be reminded that it was okay to let go and let the world continue turning without his checking it.

~~~~~

Yoongi stood, still staring out the east wing chamber window long after the dark horse vanished from view. He waited, watching the sun as it crept across the sky, only letting out a sigh when a knock came to the door.

“Yoongi?”

The prince turned on his heel, arms still folded over his chest, and smiled as Jeongguk and then Jimin entered the room. He held out his arms, and when Jeongguk easily nuzzled into his embrace Yoongi finally noticed how cold the room had gotten, feeling the warmth of the young prince’s skin against his own.

“You’re cold,” Jeongguk murmured, his voice muffled as he half-giggled, half-complained into Yoongi’s chest.

The three brothers sat down at the little table in front of the window, with Jeongguk sinking to kneel on the floor, still leaning heavily into Yoongi’s lap and pressing in for silent attention, now that they were away from the gaze of strangers. It was the first time for any of them to be away from home without one of their parents or a much bigger entourage.

“Yeah, It feels cold,” he said, looking once again out the window, a sober expression on his face. His skin may have felt cool to the touch, but it had been nothing compared to the coolness in the way Prince Seokjin had welcomed them. Oh, he was well-versed, to be sure, but Yoongi had a particular talent in reading people. Call it intuition, call it invention bred from necessity, or call it over-compensation for his own analytical nature, but it was what it was; a curse and a talent. There were lots of good reasons Seokjin Kim was known as the Snow Prince.

“What do you think of him?” Jimin queried, as if he could read his brother’s mind.

Yoongi offered his brother a tight-lipped smile, patting Jimin on the shoulder in reassurance. “He and I are well-matched in personalities.”

“...And?” Jimin pressed further.

The elder prince worked his lip, running one hand through Jeongguk’s hair as he looked out the window once more. “He doesn’t think much of me, but I don’t blame him. I knew he was pretty but I didn’t expect him to look that beautiful.”

“You’re handsome too, Yoongi,” Jeongguk sent up, practically purring into his brother. Yoongi chuckled, but didn’t answer. His confidence was still shattered to pieces from the moment he had seen Seokjin’s face, and was likely to remain so despite Jeongguk’s easy way of praise.

“No, really,” Jeongguk continued, lifting his head to meet Yoongi’s eyes. “The servants keep saying you look like a doll.”

“And his brother already likes you,” Jimin pointed out, sitting back into his chair, legs crossed and his posture letting off the casual air of power and poise that suggested that he was not to be underestimated. It was a trait that both Yoongi and Jimin had had to fight to quench, to soften over the years. But here, Jimin smirked wickedly. “His brother is a total pushover, if you know where to prod, and I think he’s the easiest way to Seokjin.”

“You make it sound like an elaborate game of chess or something.”

“I’m making it sound like what it is - an elaborate game of match-making.” Jimin shrugged, looking out the window that Yoongi had been glued to for the last couple of hours. “You already said you would never marry for love, and you’re second son, so if that’s the case, I want to help you find the best match. That’s why I asked to come.”

Yoongi laughed, sitting back into his seat and finally starting to relax the tense muscles of his back at Jimin’s flippant, knowing tone. Then, quietly he murmured, “It’s not that I don’t want to, I just know myself.”

“Well, either way,” Jimin shrugged, not understanding the implication.

“Father and mother married for love,” Jeongguk said quietly into Yoongi’s lap. “That’s why they ended up with seven.”

Sending a little frown down at the boy in his lap, Yoongi relinquished a sigh. He opened his mouth to speak, when a knock at the door interrupted. Jimin called out and Taehyung slipped into the room, sending the princes a smile. Instead of his usual uniform, he was dressed in an elaborately decorated suit, a zigzagged pattern across the jacket embroidered in threads of gold, purple and silver. With the warmth of his sun-kissed skin, his lean, well-born frame, and the gleam in his eyes, he looked as if he might as well have been a prince himself. Yoongi bit at his tongue.

“Ah, there you are,” Jimin beamed back, standing up to go inspect his footman and lifelong companion.”What are you wearing?” Taehyung looked nothing like the farmer’s son he had been when he had first come to live with them, meant to be a companion for Jimin and a combat training partner. Taehyung would forever be bound to the royal family, and in return he had been given a prince’s education and many - although not all - of the privileges of palace life. Not that there weren’t dues and obligations in return aplenty.

“They insisted all the servants meet and change into these,” Taehyung rolled his eyes. There was a warm and easygoing connection that had been between the servant and master since the very beginning, something that had always had guests asking if there weren’t, in all actuality, eight princes of Daioka; Jimin treated Taehyung with as much familiarity as he did his brothers. Although it wasn’t as obvious at first, given that his station required a certain borderline for the sake of professionalism and humility, Yoongi had observed from early on that Taehyung had a soft spot in his heart for Jimin that was just as precious and which far transcended his station. They loved each other, as David and Jonathan loved each other, a friendship that would last to their dying breath and needed no words, only a glance or a touch, or the softest of smiles.

“The top is all mussed, here, let me help,” Jimin said with a chuckle. He shook his head, smiling in a gentle, good-natured reprimand as he moved to undo the top three buttons of Taehyung’s uniform, revealing the expanse of his collarbone. Taehyung tilted his head back, his neck exposed as he tried to give Jimin plenty of room to work, and when he swallowed, his adam’s apple shifted up and down his throat, and with a little movement of his shoulder, his collarbone seemed to ripple into prominence. His skin was just as soft-looking and warm, as if it glowed of its own graceful heat.

Yoongi clutched at the arm of his chair, and Jeongguk lifted his head up to his brother in curiosity. With his years of experience in masking his emotions, Yoongi was fairly certain that the youngest prince couldn’t read anything substantial in his expression. There would be no signs of the ache, of the sickening drop in his stomach and the ensuing nausea. He didn’t show any signs, possibly because after all these years, his body had just grown weary of it, cycling the sensation like a waterwheel that kept on spinning endlessly, propelled by its own melancholic momentum.

“Not everyone can marry for love,” Yoongi said, giving his brother a grim smile. “I may not bear all the responsibility as Ken does, as he is the eldest. And he’s already married. But there’s always the worry that something might happen, and I’ll have to take over in his stead. I’m second eldest so my marriage means a lot, and appearances must be kept up.”

He stood, gently dislodging Jeongguk from his lap. Letting out a slow groan, he willed away the numbness in his legs from where his brother had been leaning against him. When he glanced up, Jeongguk was looking at him with wide, questioning eyes, a worried press to his frown that suggested he wished he had something to say, but knew his words would fall on deaf ears. Yoongi allowed his face to relax into a smile for Jeongguk’s sake, reaching out and brushing his fingertips underneath the boy’s chin and tickling him slightly. “Don’t worry, Jeongguk. Even if I don’t find love, there are other things to create happiness out of. Now keep your chin up and all of you go prepare for dinner. I need to get dressed.”

He ignored the fact that in the edges of his vision, he could see Taehyung looking his direction. By now, he already knew the sober look that would be sent his way, the dark eyes flashing and burning with life beneath thick bangs, the crease of his mouth like an unanswered question. Yoongi couldn’t remember the last time he had looked Taehyung in the eye, but he knew that ever since then, he had been able to fool himself into thinking that the ache in his chest had lessened.

“Oh, who is that?” Jeongguk suddenly asked, leaning over toward the window. “There’s someone coming in on a horse!”

Yoongi worked his lip, glancing toward the field, standing behind Jeongguk and watching the Crown Prince Seokjin riding back into the palace grounds. Jeongguk pressed up against the window, leaving his fingerprints there as he squinted down. Seokjin’s horse was returning at a trot, rather than the breakneck speed run with which they had left, but the mussed look to the prince’s hair was obvious even from this distance, as was the way his jacket was messily left open and unbuttoned. The most surprising thing, however, was the wide, face-altering grin that stretched from one ear to the other, wide teeth gleaming bright as he patted his horse’s neck.

“W-wow…” breathed Jeongguk. Yoongi glanced over to see that the youngest’s jaw was literally dropped at the Crown Prince’s secret expression. “So I guess people that handsome really exist!”

The elder prince blinked a couple of times, then laughed, ruffling Jeongguk’s hair. “Go get dressed.”

“Yes, sir!” Jeongguk rolled his eyes, nudging up against his brother as he followed Jimin and Taehyung out of the chamber. Yoongi allowed himself to watch Taehyung’s back as they left, seeing what seemed to be a slight pink on the edges of the prominent ears as if he was flushed. Yoongi smiled, then sighed once the door was shut and he was left alone again. He looked down to the field, where Seokjin was no longer visible.

Perhaps love had been a door shut to him, but he would look for his own happiness. Life was about sacrifices, sometimes, after all. He couldn’t admit aloud that the military prowess of the princes of Tora was kind of intimidating. He couldn’t let it show that he didn’t feel like he, as himself, was suitable to try and court someone like Prince Seokjin. But there had certainly been something in the Snow Prince’s eyes that he felt he could have related to, and perhaps someone like Seokjin could understand him in a way that the ever-strong and charming Jimin, and the naive and ever-adapting Jeongguk would never be able to comprehend.

His body felt a hundred years old, even as his heart was that of a mere child’s. Yoongi’s task in coming to Tora was to win the heart of the Snow Prince, and he would do his damndest to succeed.

~~~~~

“No fidgeting, Jeongguk,” Jimin said quietly, taking hold of his brother’s wrist.

“I wasn’t fidgeting,” Jeongguk sighed, “I was adjusting my cufflinks.”

Jimin just frowned, letting go of Jeongguk and continuing down the carpeted hallway toward the large curved staircase. Yoongi was a few steps ahead of them, his head held high as he led the way to dinner.

To Jimin’s surprise, they were seated fairly close to the head of the table, with Yoongi at Seokjin’s left hand (his younger brother being on his right). This could only be a positive sign, meaning whatever impression Yoongi thought he had had on the Snow Prince was not quite as lukewarm as he had believed. Jimin smiled into his plate, tugging on the ends of his sleeves to free his palms a little more from the loose cuffs. Across the room, Taehyung was standing at attention with the rest of the footmen, including Yoongi and Jeongguk’s. Jimin shared a brief glance with the younger, tilting his head with the ever-so-slight inclination towards his older brother. Taehyung seamlessly followed Jimin’s gaze, to where Yoongi was calmly managing a quiet discussion with Seokjin about the journey over. After a brief pause on the doll-faced prince, Taehyung’s eyes flickered back to meet Jimin’s, his expression deceptively blank for all the suggestion of his eyes. Jimin’s smile, which had been broad a moment, ago, faltered. Taehyung didn’t approve. Jimin could read it in his eyes, in the way he lowered his head, his lips slightly curved downward in a way that most would overlook as mere boredom, but which stated much to his lifelong companion.

“I guess Tora is known for its meats?” came Jeongguk’s voice at Jimin’s side. He turned to his brother, seeing Jeongguk inspecting his plate piled high with a braised chicken dish.

“Yes, especially its pork and lamb. They’re also famous for lots of different breads,” Jimin said off-handedly, turning to lean a little forward, trying to hear Yoongi and Seokjin’s conversation over the din of plates.

“I could get used to that sort of thing,” Jeongguk quietly murmured, diving in wholeheartedly. “Seafood is great but sometimes you just need meat.” He picked up the sprig of parsley in his hand and nibbled on the end of it for a few moments before Jimin gave the back of his hand a light smack of reprimand.

“Mind your manners,” Jimin hissed. At home Jeongguk was very well behaved during social events, so he was a little surprised, particularly so when Jeongguk’s eyes widened at him in confusion.

“But the Crown Prince did it,” Jeongguk pointed out. Jimin looked over to see Prince Seokjin twirling his own parsley between two crooked fingers, making it spin between short nibbles he gave it as he met eyes intensely with Yoongi. Jimin pursed his lips together, nose crinkling slightly as he allowed Jeongguk this one.

“Fine,” he mumbled, but he still cut the parsley with his knife and ate it bit by bit with his meat. From what he could overhear, Yoongi was doing really well talking to the prince, even if he was being a bit formal for a possible suitor. In all fairness, the Snow Prince hadn’t so much as quirked a little smile throughout the meal, though, so perhaps it was just Yoongi matching his conversation partner. But that didn’t seem to be enough of a reason for Taehyung’s unspoken disapproval. He looked back up and noted that Taehyung had been moved along, a new manservant standing there with a quiet smile on his face, bony wrists folded in front of him.

There was a movement over his shoulder, and Jimin flinched a little until he noticed it was Taehyung, come to serve them the next dish. Jeongguk, leaned in, looking like a curious child, as he sniffed brazenly at the brown patty-shaped meat that stretched across the plate, toasted sesame seeds sprinkled across and covered in a delicate sauce.

“What’s that?” Jeongguk queried, and pointed a finger at the dish as Taehyung put it in front of him. Jimin glanced over to Yoongi and Seokjin, to see that the latter was glancing their direction, paused mid-conversation.

“It’s a mix of pork and beef short ribs,” Taehyung said quietly, “It’s flavored with acacia honey.”

“Are you a food connoisseur, Jeongguk?” Seokjin inquired, arching an eyebrow and looking intrigued.

Jeongguk looked up in surprise, having just put a sizeable forkful into his mouth. He swallowed, clearly too early, and had to cough a little. “Um, not exactly, your royal Highness, but I can appreciate a quality meal such as this.” Jimin was relieved at the smooth answer, smiling a little into his plate as he cut his meat.

Seokjin’s eyes sparkled with amusement, the corners of his lips twitching towards what was almost a smile, but which paled in comparison to what the princes had seen from Yoongi’s chamber window.

“Try the loaves over there,” Seokjin pointed to a large basket in the middle of the table, fresh loaves piled high into it. “I think you’ll like them.”

Timidly, not sure what to do with the unexpected attention, Jeongguk reached out and plucked one from the pile, tearing it in half. As the crust separated, Jimin was struck by the strong smell of cheese and garlic, and saw the long strands of herbs and melted cheese strung between the two halves in Jeongguk’s hands. The young prince actually gave a little gasp, and Jimin chuckled.

“They’re all different,” Seokjin said. Jimin looked over, and the Crown Prince, known for his coldness, was looking fondly at Jeongguk with his chin resting in his hand. “Some are sweet, some are sour, others have meat in them or special jams.” When no one said anything for a moment, Seokjin inclined his head, gesturing a little with one hand. “Go ahead, enjoy.”

Jeongguk smiled, flushing as he dipped his head downward in shyness, slipping a bit of the bread into his mouth. Jimin looked down at his brother, smiling and patting his knee. Jeongguk ducked his head further, and Jimin figured he was just feeling embarrassed at being noticed.

“Yoongi is also a sort of unofficial food connoisseur,” Jimin offered, leaning forward with a warm smile. At this point, he was making deliberate eye contact with Namjoon, Seokjin’s brother, instead of the Crown Prince himself. He still thought that Namjoon would be an easier egg to crack than going directly for Seokjin. “They both enjoy trying various local cuisines from our different precincts. Our kingdom is still in its infancy, though, so most of the foods are conglomerations of cuisines from neighboring lands.”

“Daioka is also a seaside kingdom, isn’t it?”

“We have one border which is almost entirely on the sea,” Jimin said proudly, his chest puffing a little in pride, “So our seafoods are becoming more and more refined as time goes on. Speaking of which, I have heard such amazing stories of your skills on the seas.” Jimin gave his most dazzling smile, meeting Prince Namjoon’s eyes, his own curved up into little crescent moon-shapes.

Namjoon’s smile was unrestrained, wide and open as he set down his wine and shifted in his seat, preparing for a proper conversation. “Well, I don’t know about amazing , but I do love the sea. It’s very poetic, to ride the waves in the midnight hours…”

While Namjoon spoke, the manservant who had taken Taehyung’s place against the opposite wall grabbed Jimin’s attention unintentionally. Still keeping his face turned to Namjoon, Jimin’s eyes flickered over to see that the tall, gangly manservant was making faces. Strange, clownish faces, followed by silent laughter and a heart-shaped smile that was all teeth and simplistic warmth. Jimin followed the manservant’s gaze and found that he was sending those expressions over at (of all possible persons) the Crown Prince himself. Expecting a look of judgement, he was surprised to see that Prince Seokjin was meeting Hoseok’s gaze evenly, even with good humor. The slightest, softest of smiles gracing his features as he watched the manservant do his best to make him laugh from across the room.

The man contorted his face again, this time screwing up his face and angling his mouth like a loosened rubber band, lips jutting out and wrinkles from laughter and strain alike twisting his face into a look of exaggerated disgust and mourning. Jimin almost jolted in his seat when suddenly he heard a gentle laugh, and he turned to see it came from none other than Prince Seokjin, struggling to bury his growing smile behind his glass as he giggled.

Jimin’s mouth fell a little agape at the strange turn of events that peppered this first meal in the Tora palace.

~~~~~

“Jeongguk,” Yoongi called out, making the boy stop in his tracks. “Where are you going?”

The youngest prince looked over at his brother, who was paused with his hand on the doorknob, a book tucked under one arm and watching him. Jeongguk had been trying to slip off quietly, but he was caught just down the hallway from his room, and he knew he was a sight, wearing only his nightshirt, a silky burgundy robe thrown over his shoulders.

“Um…”Jeongguk paused, glancing up and down the hall. “Just… a walk?”

“At this hour?”

“Yes…?”

Yoongi frowned. “Where’s your footman?”

“I already dismissed him. I’m just going to walk for a little while, my legs are sore from the carriage today.”

At that reasoning, Yoongi finally seemed to relent, accepting the answer as adequate. He twisted the door handle to his own chambers, muttering a quiet, “Don’t stay out too late, then.”

“Understood!” Jeongguk half-sang, slipping down the hallway at a brisk pace. A few unknown faces wandered the halls up towards the wing set aside specifically for guests, but none of them paid Jeongguk any mind. His bare feet thudded softly against the plush carpeting, and eventually the corridors with lighting ran out, until he was wandering along in the darkness, but he scurried along, his final intended destination being the front palace grounds. An enormous fountain, with its glassy rippling waters and its large stone bowl where falling streams trickled down constantly, was placed just in front of the main entrance doors they had arrived at. Jeongguk had spotted them as they had driven past, and he had immediately been tempted to go have a closer look. Ordinarily, he would have invited Jimin or Taehyung to join him, but there was a certain level of elegant mystery to wandering around a strange palace at night, all alone. The turns were unfamiliar, the air in the corridors had a different smell and thickness to it. The air smelled constantly sweet, whereas home was decidedly saltier in taste.

The main door, he was sure, was locked during the night. So Jeongguk snuck his way around to where the servant’s corridors would be, hearing chatter from the small kitchen area that was connected to their part of the house, a downstairs domain that Jeongguk normally wasn’t allowed. He tiptoed beyond, peering in at the bedroom doors that were left open. In one of them there was a pile of bags stacked near the door, and he recognized one as Taehyung’s. On the worn-out bureau were gloves, extra (neatly-pressed) handkerchiefs, and some other small bags of personal items. Continuing on, Jeongguk came to a small, understated door at the end of the hallway. The main lock on it was left undone, with just a large, sturdy metal latch drawn across it. Jeongguk slipped quietly out, hit with the slight coolness of a nighttime breeze and the headiness of wisteria. He looked back a little apprehensively at the door, then picked up a plank of wood that had been stacked up against the side of the house, along with a collection of other well-used household supplies, and thrust it into the doorjamb where the latch would fall. Then, he walked around the palace the long way.

Once his feet left cobblestone and met cool, dew-dripped grass, Jeongguk let out a sigh of relief. The breeze tugged at his hair, and the night was warm without being stifling. The fresh air outside smelled a little more like the sea than indoors, and he wondered what was done to make the palace so much sweeter.

Lights were on in several of the palace windows, Jeongguk tried to figure out where his and Yoongi’s chambers would be. It was easier once he passed the stables, thinking back to when they had spotted Seokjin riding in earlier that afternoon. The ground turned to rough, dry dirt path and then back to that soft grass, and he was finally at the fountain. It looked even more beautiful at night, with a wide expanse of black, star-filled sky behind it, and the distant harsh glow of torches down by the gate beyond.

It was nice to get away from the closeness of the main party. Dinner had been pleasant but he’d felt overwhelmed by all the noises and conversation. Getting away from everyone, even if just for a short span of time, felt calming and grounded him.

The fountain murmured in its light-hearted, gentle song, the great, elaborately carved bowl spilling over in sloped streams. A permanent mist emanated around it, and Jeongguk felt the water before he was able to see himself reflected in its surface, the moon glimmering in the reflection in broken, gleaming pieces across the water.

Jeongguk leaned over the stone wall surrounding the fountain, staring down into the waters. He reached out one hand and touched his palm to the surface. It felt lovely and strangely warm against his skin, and Jeongguk smiled into the night, impulsively lifting one leg and clambering over the side and stepping into the water. It came up to about his knees, and the bottom of his nightshirt dangled against the rippled surface, darkening with the dampness. He sloshed his way over to the bowl, standing beneath the lip between two thick, flowing streams, and looked upward. It was so beautiful, seeing the glow of the lights and the moon reflected in the bubbling water.

He smiled, and suddenly the balance of water inside the giant stone bowl shifted, and a thick sheet of water splashed right down onto his face.

Letting out a strangled, spluttering sort of “Gah!”, Jeongguk brushed his wet bangs out of his eyes, gasping. Well, he should have expected that, in all honesty. He sighed, then laughed up at the moon, at the way being in the water now felt warmer than being wet outside the water, and he gave in and just sat straight down into the pool, splashing and trailing his finger along the slick grime at the bottom, letting it wash away with the running water. He crawled around, giggling when he found random coins at the bottom, finally leaning against the sides and looking up at the night sky once again, breathing in the coolness of the air.

He wasn’t sure how long he was out there, but eventually, the chill of the evening started to make him shiver, his lip quivering as he crawled out of the fountain. This time, noisy droplets splattered behind him as he hurried toward the house, curling his arms over his chest as the once calming breeze quickly became an irritant. He felt bad momentarily for leaving his slightly dirty and particularly wet footprints along the servant’s quarters, gingerly slipping his block of wood free and locking the door again before rushing upstairs, but it couldn’t be helped.

Once he was on plush, velvety carpet again, Jeongguk sighed, holding his arms out to the side to assess the extent of the damage. He was soaked entirely through, but at least he wasn’t dripping as badly. The robe felt stiff and cumbersome, though, so he paused at the end of one of the hallways to tug his way out of it, when a broad-shouldered figure bumped into him, nearly striking him in the face with a sizable intricately-designed candelabra.

“M-my apologies,” Jeongguk mumbled, lowering his head as he stumbled backwards. The candleabra had bumped against his shoulder a bit painfully, and he instinctively touched at it. He had been hoping everyone had gone to bed by this time, but apparently not.

Jeongguk peered up through his wet bangs, and felt his entire body start to burn with shock and embarrassment. He had run into the Crown Prince, looking surprised but ethereal, still wearing his dinner clothes, down to the high-buttoned vest. Jeongguk flushed, shuffling shyly as he remembered how awkward he had been at the dinner, and notably distracted by how pink and gentle the prince’s lips looked while parted, an unspoken exclaimation on his tongue.

After a very brief moment, he seemed to recover, and his expression relaxed a little. “Not at all,” he said. “It was my error, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Y-Your Highness...“ was all Jeongguk managed, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

Seokjin seemed to study him for a moment, and if he didn’t know better, he would think there was a trace of amusement sparkling in his eyes as he glanced up and down.

“It’s Jeongguk Min, right?” Seokjin queried, his tone polite, “From the Daioka Kingdom?”

“Yes, your Highness.”

“This may seem a tad conspicuous of a thing to ask, but...may I enquire as to why you are soaking wet?”

Jeongguk, to his horror, looked down instinctively and noted that he was not only still soaking wet, but he was halfway out of his robe, leaving him in nothing but a damp nightshirt. It left little to nothing from his collarbone to his knees to the imagination, and he felt his heart thud up into his throat as he saw his own erect nipples, hard from the cold. He fumbled to cover up, yanking the robe quite violently around himself, and was met with the gentle sound of Seokjin’s laughter.

“Being this near the sea, the weather is quite unpredictable,” Seokjin chuckled, his eyes crinkling with the expanse of his smile. “But I don’t seem to recall it raining earlier.”

“I...um…I went to take a walk. It’s such a lovely night, and the fountain looks beautiful. The stars here seem different than back home, and I think the moon is brighter, too.” Jeongguk bit at his bottom lip nervously, fighting a smile at the level of ridiculousness to which he had exposed himself. “But it was too beautiful, and I ended up... in the fountain?”

Seokjin arched an eyebrow at that,shifting the candelabra from one hand to the other. “Swimming in the fountain in the middle of the night… Not a thing I would have thought of doing first, that is for certain.”

“My apologies, I should have just--”

“No, no,” Seokjin raised a hand, intending to assuage him. Jeongguk’s eyes widened as he noted that each one of Seokjin’s fingers had a unique bend to them, not dissimilar to the little ripples and waves he’d enjoyed in the fountain’s waters. “I am glad you enjoyed your midnight adventure. The fountain has been terribly bereft of any visitors, which is a tad cruel, considering she greets every guest that comes to Tora Palace.”

Jeongguk smiled, his lips drawn back from his teeth as he blushed. “It was a lovely experience, your Highness. Certainly not to be missed.”

“Well noted,” the prince smiled again, and the way his mouth changed, curving into deep creases that bookended his bright teeth, made Jeongguk forget the cold and dampness for a moment as his whole body heated up in warmth from some unknown source. His stomach did a flip when Seokjin’s hand reached out, patting him lightly on the shoulder. “Perhaps I could join you next time.”

“Y-yes!” Jeongguk managed, then fumbled out a low, “Your Highness.”

“I can send up one of the servants to help you change into some dry things,” Seokjin offered.

“Oh, no, please,” Jeongguk’s smile shook a little bit, thinking back to the mess he had already left in the servant’s quarters. “I am sure I have fresh things in my room, it’s perfectly alright.”

Once again, Seokjin seemed to inspect him from head to toe, then shook his head slightly, letting that smile peek out again. Something about the way he straightened his shoulders, relinquishing a soft, happy-sounding sigh, made Jeongguk wish he could make him release that laughter again (although preferably over less mortifying circumstances).

“In that case, I simply must trust your judgement on such matters, but feel free to call for someone if you find you need anything.” Seokjin bowed lightly, his eyes flickering with warmth and good-humor. “Sleep well, Prince Jeongguk.”

“S-sleep well, your Highness.” Jeongguk bowed, clutching his robe awkwardly against his chest so it wouldn’t fall open, and keeping his head slightly lowered until Seokjin’s footsteps and candlelight were faded away. Once alone, Jeongguk laid a palm against his chest, still feeling how fast his heart was beating there. He had not only earned the Crown Prince’s direct attention to himself during the dinner unintentionally, but now he had utterly humiliated himself in front of him. He let out a muffled little sound of distress, then rushed down the last few hallways to his room, bounding up the stairs two at a time. At the other end of the hall from his own chamber, Taehyung was quietly clicking Jimin’s door closed, and he turned in time to see Jeongguk rush into his own room and close the door with a noisy clatter.

He was leaning against the door for only a minute before a light knock interrupted his wallowing, and he sighed. Jeongguk cracked the door open slightly, peering out to see Taehyung’s inquiring expression, one dark eyebrow raised.

“Tae…” Jeongguk moaned out, reaching to pat Taehyung’s arm in desperation. “Could you do a favor for me?”

“Anything,” Taehyung said back quickly.

“Could you fetch me a few sharp knives, from the kitchens maybe? The cuts at dinner were beautiful, so they must be good knives.”

“Might I venture to ask what for?”

“To kill myself,” Jeongguk cried, covering his face with his hands, stepping back into the room and letting himself gently tumble to the floor onto his back. Taehyung shuffled inside, the door clicking behind him. Having known Jeongguk practically since he was a babe, and neither of them having much of a propensity for following rules which they had no distinct reasoning for, he and Jeongguk had created a quietly personable relationship that transcended any class distinction. Taehyung was the closest to his age when he was at home, and he took advantage of it, teasing him and allowing Taehyung to play pranks on him back, and all formality dropped between them. Taehyung had trusted him with his darkest secrets, and Jeongguk had slowly learned to repay him in kind.

“Jeongguk,” Taehyung laughed, crouching in front of him. “Why are you soaking wet? I can see everything when you lay like that.”

“You’ve seen it all anyways,” Jeongguk snapped back automatically, then groaned into his hands as he remembered. ‘But now the Crown Prince has seen it all, too.”

“What?”

Jeongguk opened his eyes, peering between his fingertips at the befuddled face above him.

“I swam in the fountain and the Crown Prince caught me on my way back up.”

He should have expected the loud, bursting laughter that burst from Taehyung. He actually fell over laughing, slapping at Jeongguk’s stomach, sending stings of pain through his abdomen that the nausea and humiliation hadn’t gotten to yet.

“Did you really? What did he say?”

Jeongguk stared at Taehyung blankly for a moment, then sighed, looking up at the ceiling. There was a French-Rococo style design to the room, which in Jeongguk’s opinion was a bit unnecessarily hyperbolic, but the rosy-cheeks of the figures daintily painted above him were at least a nice offer of distraction. “He was polite, but obviously amused. Of course he laughed, and then…” Jeongguk flushed, biting his lip momentarily. “Then he teased me that he should try swimming in the fountain, too.”

There was no answer from Taehyung, and he looked back over to see him wide-eyed, mouth agape as if Jeongguk had just told him he’d met a mermaid in that fountain, the cursed, lovely fountain that he already wanted to go back to and drown himself in.

“You...did you say he laughed?”

“Yes?” Jeongguk said, puzzled. He allowed his hands to drop away from his face at last, and Taehyung was shaking his head. “What is it? What’s wrong with him laughing?”

Taehyung let out a little scoffing noise, still shaking his head. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Just that, according to the other servants, there are only a couple people who ever succeed in making his Highness smile , much less laugh . I’ve even spoken with his valet, this man named Hoseok. He’s really friendly, but you can tell he worries a lot about the Crown Prince. He said he has known the Prince Seokjin for eons, and he makes it a mission to try and make him smile, and even he only succeeds sometimes.”

Jeongguk’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Really? He smiled at dinner too, I think.”

“Perhaps,” Taehyung shrugged. “But to make him fully laugh so easily. That’s pretty amazing, I think.”

They laid there for a moment, puzzling over it, then Taehyung patted Jeongguk’s belly once more and said,  “Let’s get you into some dry things, or you’ll have to spend this entire trip sick in your chambers.”

Jeongguk’s nose crumpled up in distaste at that prospect - he wasn’t that fond of the complexities of the French-Rococo paintings that he wanted to have to study them for an entire week. He stood up and Taehyung fetched some dry nightclothes. They smelled a little musty compared to the ones he had been wearing earlier that evening, but he supposed he couldn’t complain. He stared out the window at the growing night as Taehyung expertly turned down the bed-sheets, tucking Jeongguk in underneath the thick, white softness of the bedding.

“Taehyung,” Jeongguk murmured quietly, as Taehyung went to throw an extra log on the fire to make it last a little longer unattended to. “Should I be worried? We came all this way in the hopes that he would choose Yoongi to marry, and I… Am I overthinking it?”

The footmen hummed, standing up from the fire and coming to sit at the side of Jeongguk’s bed, pulling something out of his pocket and turning it over and over again. Jeongguk waited for him to reply, his head laid back against the stack of pillows as he watched him. Eventually, Taehyung turned and held up the object so Jeongguk could see. It was a black pocketwatch with a lovely silver chain on it, the designs on the side of two lions on their hind legs, one paw reaching up as if to stabilize the face of the clock.

“This pocketwatch,” Taehyung said quietly, “Was a gift from my father, from when we found out I would be working at the palace for your family. I keep it with me all the time, especially on days I miss them the most.”

Jeongguk laid there in silence, frowning at his friend.

“He gave it to me out of love,” Taehyung said with a little smile. “And that’s why I treasure it. I was thinking about it the other day, when you were talking about being born lucky or unlucky, and I realized...I was born pretty lucky. I miss my family, but I also have love in my heart for you and Jimin and the other princes, and the other servants back home. If I had to choose whether to go home forever, or to only remain by the side of the royal family…” Taehyung leaned back, hugging one knee to his chest as he inhaled sharply, letting the breath go in a long, steady exhale. “I honestly don’t know what I would choose.”

“Really?” Jeongguk breathed.

“Yes,” Taehyung smirked. “My point is, you don’t get to choose where your heart is loyal to. Whatever decision the Crown Prince makes about his marriage? It’s his decision. But whether his heart is with Yoongi, I don’t know. No one can control or change that.”

At this, Jeongguk reached out and took hold of Taehyung’s hand, squeezing it in his own. “Taehyung, with Yoongi, do you--”

“I’m sorry, I kept you awake longer than necessary,” Taehyung laughed, stretching as he pulled his hand away from Jeongguk’s. “Sleep well!”

“Yes…” Jeongguk sighed. “You, too.”

The door gently shut behind Taehyung, and Jeongguk stared up at the ceiling which he had decided, for all intents and purposes, he hated. His mind’s eye flashed once again with the way Seokjin had laughed at his wet, exposed self, and Jeongguk buried his face into his pillow and groaned in exasperation.

~~~~~

Jimin woke up to a quiet crackling sound, the drag of something across a metal grate, and a low murmur. He opened his eyes to find two shoulders bent low over the fireplace, one of whom was easily recognizable as Taehyung, and the other unfamiliar. The latter was instructing Taehyung on something to do with the grate, his widely inflected voice standing out even though he was keeping his voice low. He gestured with one long, sensually curved hand, his sleeve getting drawn back a bit and revealing a bony, angular wrist. Jimin blinked, sitting up in the bed and rubbing at one eye.

The slight yawn that escaped the prince made the two footmen look up, and they blinked owlishly in surprise. Taehyung was the first to recover, smiling and standing up.

“Sorry, we were just tending to the fireplace,” he explained.

Jimin, still mid-yawn, waved him off, “It’s no problem. It’s about time for me to wake up anyways, I’m sure.”

“Did you sleep well?” Taehyung asked, gently laying out Jimin’s clothes for the day across the little rack in front of the fire to air out.

“Mm, yes,” Jimin murmured with a smile. “Very well.”

“Very good,” Taehyung chirruped, slipping to his bedside with a bright skip to his step, even patting Jimin’s knee since the other footman had his head still turned toward the grate on the fireplace, and therefore couldn’t see the look of intimate affection the other two shared. “I’ll be back momentarily with your breakfast!”

Jimin nodded, mumbling his thanks and watching Taehyung leave. The man in front of the fire finally glanced over his shoulder, and the two of them made unplanned eye contact for several long moments. He was definitely the man who had made the Crown Prince laugh at dinner the previous night, and Jimin had learned from Taehyung that his name was Hoseok, and he was the Crown Prince’s own valet. He offered Jimin a demure smile.

“I promise I will not be long,” Hoseok said, emanating warmth and professionalism in one fell movement. “Some of these fireplaces are a little more complex than others.”

Jimin sent the man one of his more practiced, dazzling smiles. “No need to rush, I assure you.” Hoseok returned to his work with a grateful nod of his head, and Jimin continued to watch him. He was lean but Jimin could tell from his movements that he had the grace and poise of a dancer, muscles hinted at through the fabric of his uniform and in the steady, sure movements of his hands. Hoseok half stood, half bent to move one of the logs into the fire and Jimin felt his gaze locking on the curvature of Hoseok’s back, able to spy just the slightest suggestion of his spine. The man turned his head to the side, checking how many remaining matches were in the matchbox, and showcasing a sharp and distinctive jawline. In a word, he was beautiful.

Drawing his knees up to his chest, Jimin laid his cheek down against his knees, continuing to brazenly watch the man until he finally noticed Jimin was watching him. His first instinct a smile, his eyes seemed to widen a little in concern before he turned his head away to mess with the fire again.

“It was a bit cooler of a night than expected,” Hoseok was saying, “Hopefully you weren’t too uncomfortable, since it wasn’t working properly.”

“I was comfortable,” Jimin hummed, smirking as Hoseok lifted up onto his knees to retrieve something from the side of the fireplace, and Jimin inspected his back side, as well. Jimin had taken part in all sorts of styles of fighting and training, ever since he was a little boy. He could do fencing, archery, could hold a lance as elegantly as he could glide across a dancefloor. But it was rare to find a body so stretched and worked to beauty of shape and grace as this. Should he have been surprised, considering this was one of the head servants in all of Tora? Probably not. But it was still enjoyable to appreciate artwork where it lay.

“Will the princes be joining the garden party today?” Hoseok inquired, venturing another glance over his shoulder to find Jimin smiling at him purposefully. The valet’s own smile, the lips curved cutely upwards into the semblance of a heart, faded a little in confusion.

“Yes, we intend that,” Jimin hummed, then sat up a little. Then, self-assuredly, he said, “Hoseok?”

“Your Highness?”

“You’re very beautiful,” Jimin stated simply, loving the way that pushing his hand so boldly always created a strong reaction. In Hoseok’s case, he dropped the poker from the fire, and it clattered noisily to the carpet as he flushed and let out a nervous laugh.

“Not at all, your Highness,” he managed through his fluster. “I’m known as the valet with the funniest face among the staff, I assure you.”

Jimin chuckled a little, the sound like a little bell that hung in the air. “That’s merely because you sacrifice your own image for the sake of making a certain young prince smile.”

Hoseok stopped, meeting Jimin’s eyes evenly, a warmth and compassion flickering through his eyes that made Jimin’s stomach flip. Jimin could tell just from the mention of Seokjin that Hoseok loved him dearly.

“I hear from Taehyung that you are awfully dedicated to the Crown Prince’s happiness,” Jimin continued. “I think it’s very admirable, especially considering he’s known far and wide as the Snow Prince, I can’t imagine that’s an easy task.”

Hoseok’s lips pursed together a little, and he started to gather up his things. “Begging your pardon, your Highness, but there is nothing about his Royal Highness that even vaguely resembles Snow or Ice, I can assure you. He is very warm and compassionate, and he deserves every happiness.”

Jimin, in response, smiled again at the valet, this time more softly, with a trace of sadness in his eyes. “I’m very relieved to hear that.”

That made Hoseok halt, a little dumbfounded at the reaction. “I b-beg your pardon?”

Jimin stretched out both hands in front of him, groaning a little as he stretched. The edges of his delicate lace-trimmed sleeves covered part of his hands, and he wriggled his fingers slightly before laying his cheek back down against his kneecaps. “My brother is much the same way. He can come across as distant or uncaring, but he is truly a passionate person. I wouldn’t want to try and promote him for marriage to anyone less than worthy. Naturally, a noble would paint the Crown Prince under such a light as calling him Snow Prince, due to his face alone, but the opinion of one of his closest servants?” Jimin shrugged a little, smirking, “To hear you defend him reassures me that he is a good man, beyond the social niceties required of his station. So I thank you, Hoseok, for that valuable lesson.”

Hoseok stood in the middle of the room, gaping a little in uncertainty. Taehyung came gliding back in, balancing a tray and setting it up on the nearby table for Jimin.

“It’s one of your favorites!” Taehyung singsonged, uncovering the tray and watching the steam rise. Jimin was still meeting eyes with Hoseok, who broke the stare first and shuffled out of the room with a quiet apology and a bow at the door. Jimin smiled.

~~~~~

The sun rose high overhead, but today a pleasant breeze was filtering through the open air of the garden, where hundreds of people were gathered. Skirts fluttered, vest buttons shined, smiles were plastered and blossomed alike. A large temporary pavilion area was set up, with trays and party favors, and a band played along the upper balcony, spilling its fine, merry tunes across the grounds. Seokjin’s feet ached, and face felt stiff. He had been making small talk and meeting dozens of possible suitors, shaking hands with lords and ladies and all the while with poor, busy Hoseok whispering vital reminders in his ear. He was tired of wishing people a good morning, but he had to keep going. One thing that kept him going steadily, kept him from wavering, was to think that each nod, every feigned moment of interest, was the slight solidification of good relations on the behalf of Tora to neighboring (and often quite influential) lands.

There was, perhaps, one other thing that kept him moving through the line. He craned his head around once again, his eyes hunting through the crowd. Hoseok, standing just behind him as always, smiled warmly and very subtly touched Seokjin’s arm. It was a gesture of reassurance as well as question, and it made the prince relax his body for a moment, meeting his valet’s eyes.

“Waiting for someone?” Hoseok said knowingly.

Seokjin worked his lip, pouting it a little in thought. Was he? “I’m just… You know, observing, as usual.”

Hoseok let his hand carry a little more weight against the back of Seokjin’s arm, a very slight change in pressure that nonetheless suggested much. “You wouldn’t happen to be looking for the Min family from Daioka, would you?”

Seokjin couldn’t help it - he whirled around a bit on his heel, knowing his face was giving him away. He said nothing, but Hoseok laughed at him, patting his back.

“They’re in the maze,” Hoseok offered in a heartening whisper. “I’m sure you can take a turn about in there, as well.”

The Crown Prince met Hoseok’s eyes steadily, straightening his shoulders and trying not to feel like he was actually looking forward to running off, as temporary a situation as it was. “I won’t be long,” he promised.

“Please, make it be long,” Hoseok rolled his eyes, watching Seokjin weave his way through the crowd. At least three or four people stopped him for an obligatory greeting or to introduce their son or daughter to him, but Seokjin congratulated himself on getting to the entrance to the maze in fair time. It was a large, beautiful hedge that covered most of the grounds on the south side of the palace, and Seokjin had been watching his groundsmen tend to it for the last couple of years, bringing the hedge up from endearing sprouts that could be stepped over, until now, when they towered high over his head. There was chattering beyond, and Seokjin halted at the entrance, feeling a little lost before he had even stepped inside. How far into the maze would they be? Would he be able to run into them?

Just who was he hoping to run into, exactly? And why?

Seokjin stepped inside, making only a couple of turns before he heard laughter beyond, high-pitched, like a little bell. Someone was talking, shouting over the hedge in their glee. Then, a few minutes in, the edge to Seokjin’s left shifted, as though pressed against, and a loud, abrasive and unrestrained laughter pressed through the greenery. Jeongguk’s voice soon wafted up in between his actual guffaws of laughter:

“You know, you can’t go through the hedge, you idiot!”

“I know that!” came a voice that could only be his brother Jimin. “God, stop making me laugh so hard and just try to find Yoongi.”

“He’s with Taehyung, I think. They’ll be fine,” Jeongguk said. Seokjin made another turn, trying to figure out how to get around the hedgewall and to the voices. “Let’s just try to find our way out.”

Deadend. He turned around.

“I feel like Taehyung doesn’t approve of the Crown Prince,” Jimin said, sounding disheartened. “He gave them such a look at dinner yesterday.”

“Maybe he has his reasons,” Jeongguk sounded purposeful with each syllable, and Seokjin thought he might have been the only one to catch it, except then Jimin let out a hum. Seokjin turned another corner, and was faced with four more possible paths.

“Well, what do you think of him, Jeongguk?”

Seokjin halted mid-step, his ears pricking up. He hadn’t realized he was walking so quickly, his breath a little labored as he fought to stay quiet.

Long, agonizing moments seemed to pass, and Seokjin inwardly cursed as he realized they were probably moving. Suddenly anxious that he would miss the answer should they get too far away, he hurried his pace again.

“I don’t know,” he finally heard Jeongguk’s voice say, off to his right. Seokjin followed the likely path that direction, his curiosity burning. “He’s beautiful, for one thing. I can barely look him in the eye. But I’m confused why people call him the Snow Prince. He doesn’t seem cold at all to me. In fact, he seems rather warm, just gentle, like Yoongi can be.”

“Oh?” Jimin’s voice sounded close, and Seokjin hurried to the end of a long straight stretch, feeling his heart thudding in his chest. He could have sworn he could see movement at the end of the lane, right where it turned to the left. “That’s interesting. What do you see him as, then, if not a Snow Prince?”

“I would definitely say he’s--”

Seokjin never got to hear Jeongguk’s answer, as he turned the corner and accidentally cut them off. Jeongguk and Jimin were walking his direction, halting suddenly when he rounded the corner. The awkward obligatory bows that followed were peppered by confused eyebrows.

“Your Highness,” Jimin said quietly, smiling. “You surprised us.”

He cursed himself for still being a little out of breath. Formal wear and jogging in circles around a hedge maze did not make for a calm, collected looking prince. Seokjin attempted a smile that turned into more of a grimace. “I was just out taking a turn,” he said in a way that he feared was quite unconvincing. “You two are enjoying the festivities, I hope?”

Seokjin, at this question, finally allowed himself to look directly at Jeongguk, finding the young prince watching him with lips pressed gently together, almost hiding behind his brother. He only glanced up at Seokjin through his bangs, and instantly blushed whenever he did.

“We are, thank you!” Jimin glanced over his shoulder at his brother in confusion. “I’m afraid we’ve temporarily misplaced our eldest brother Yoongi, however.”

“A shame,” Seokjin said, still watching Jeongguk, who was biting at his lip nervously. Obviously the boy was still embarrassed over the previous night. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“It would be an honor. Wouldn’t it, Jeongguk?” Jimin said, sending the Crown Prince a dazzling and suave smile. The youngest prince only nodded his head in reply.

They turned and walked back along the path they’d gone on, and Seokjin tried to inconspicuously stroll at Jeongguk’s side. The path curled around, and narrowed, until Jimin was forced to walk a little ahead of them. Seokjin chanced a look at his side and found Jeongguk staring at the ground, the apples of his cheeks pink and youthful, his hands fiddling with the edges of his vest as though afraid it would slip away and reveal him again. Seokjin smiled, turning to look up ahead and offer direction suggestions to Jimin.

“Are you warm?” Jeongguk said suddenly, as though the question was on several minute’s delay. Seokjin blinked, looking over at the boy.

“Pardon?”

“You seemed out of breath earlier, I was worried it was from the heat. I think it’s pretty warm today.”

Pursing his lips, Seokjin considered for a moment. “It’s true. High summer is approaching. But don’t worry, I’m fine, thank you..”

“I think Yoongi and Taehyung are up ahead,” Jimin cut in, starting to speed up his pace and turning one of the curved, circular shaped corners. “I can hear Taehyung!”

“Jeongguk,” Seokjin said, turning to the boy as soon as there was some space between them and the elder brother. “Since it’s getting warmer, will you be making a return venture to your recently discovered swimming spot again tonight?”

The words were said casually, but the reaction from Jeongguk was utterly endearing. He blushed deeper, smiling so prettily and hunching his shoulders up.

“M-maybe.”

“You weren’t too cold last night in your chambers, I trust?”

It wasn’t until the words left his mouth that he realized how taboo they sounded, how suggestive, and he practically bit his tongue, but for the way Jeongguk nibbled at his lip.

“I slept soundly, your Highness.”

“I’m relieved,” Seokjin said cheerily, “Now for my third question.”

Jeongguk looked over at him curiously, his eyes wide in wonder.

“If you were to be out for another swim,” Seokjin said slowly, deliberately not looking at Jeongguk for fear of losing his nerve, or his quickly loosening grapple on self-control. “And someone were to join you, uninvited and without any excuse of drunkenness or extraneous exposure to exhaustion, and were to wholeheartedly wish to enjoy this alleged magnificence of a midnight fountain-dip, would you find that off-putting?”

There was silence for a moment, and he looked over at the prince, finding his eyes simply sparkling with humor and amusement, his lips parted and revealing endearing teeth. “I wouldn’t find it off-putting at all, your Highness. It’s not my fountain, after all, much less exclusively.”

Seokjin felt his chest swell unexpectedly, and he felt like he needed to shout out, but was left unable to do so. He strode forward with lighter steps, and he felt the smile blossoming across his face instantly, hurting his cheeks in new and wondrous ways. He saw Jeongguk looking his direction, seeming to be searching for something in his face. The hunt in Jeongguk’s eyes, this unspoken question, made Seokjin feel extremely exposed and vulnerable - apparently a theme between any meetings between the two of them - and he brought his hand up to cover his mouth, thereby hiding his unstoppable smile.

“Then,” Jeongguk said quietly, “I’ll expect you tonight.”

“I found them! And the exit!” Jimin called out, turning the corner. The slight jolt of surprise at Jimin’s sudden reappearance was taken advantage of, helping Seokjin wipe the expression away and pull himself back together.

“Excellent,” Seokjin nodded, following Jimin. The rest of the garden party went rather uneventfully, although one might rather contribute that to a sense of anticipation that had started to boil deep in Seokjin’s gut for a certain man who thought of him, Snow Prince Seokjin, as ‘rather warm, actually .’

During the dinner, Seokjin had been strategically placed next to a very popular and outgoing Viscount, and he was doing his best to make conversation with the man and his attending relatives, which was a bit of a challenge due to the fact that he only seemed inclined to discuss the exactitudes of game on his lands. Not so inclined toward hunting himself, Seokjin had to pull on his usual mask of interest. In the corner of his eye he could see Jeongguk, sitting quietly between his brothers as he watched them converse. He noticed Jeongguk was busying himself between every course with a different bread, nibbling on it as he listened to the conversation around him, not feeling compelled to add anything of his own opinion. Right before the main course was brought out, Seokjin glanced over again, seeing Jeongguk take a big bite out of a dark, seeded bun. After a comedic pause, the young man leaned back and roll his eyes as if in ecstasy, apparently finding a taste worthy of a moment’s somber reflection and appreciation. A smile played at the edges of Seokjin’s lips, which only grew into a quiet chuckle when Jeongguk started to dive into the bread with increased tenacity, filling his cheeks out to unbelievable lengths. The man was in a world of his own, enjoying something so simplistic.

“Your Highness?” came the voice of the Viscount, drawing him out of his preoccupation. The Viscount was staring at him in confusion, glancing down the table in search of what - or who - he had been looking at. “Is there something that amuses you?”

“I beg your pardon?” Seokjin mentally shook himself free, sending the man a look of apology. “I’m sorry, I guess the sun was hotter today than expected. You were saying?”

He didn’t notice that throughout the remainder of the meal, even when he was speaking to others, there were moments where the mask unintentionally slipped, and he would think of Jeongguk’s puffed out cheeks, his rag-doll like form in his wet nightshirt; and Seokjin inevitably ended up smiling in mid-conversation. He did, however, note the looks of bewilderment from most of his guests, and when Hoseok leaned over to whisper in his ear about the after-dinner activities, Seokjin leaned back into the man’s ear purposefully.

“Is there something off about my dress or appearance tonight?” he murmured, glancing up in concern. “Maybe I got bit by the sun today?”

Hoseok looked down at Seokjin’s face, examining the curvatures in it, perplexed. “Your Highness,” he whispered back after a moment, turning his head and glancing momentarily down at a certain length of the table. “It might have something to do with the fact that you keep smiling like a lovestruck fool.”

Seokjin’s lips parted in surprise, barely even feeling the comradely pat on his shoulder as Hoseok drew away. He spent most of dessert fumbling through replacing the mask, but it was as if he was reaching into his pocket only to find it missing entirely, leaving him stumbling through conversations he normally would have dealt with with ease and poise. The end of the meal didn’t come fast enough before Seokjin apologized to his conversation party, hurrying upstairs.

Hoseok was already there waiting for him, laying out his nightclothes by the fire. He looked up when Seokjin entered, pausing in confusion with the material folded across his arm.

“Wow,” Hoseok breathed, staring agape at the Crown Prince.

“What is it?”

The valet shook his head, turning to continue his work. The fire already cackled warmly in the hearth, and Seokjin reached his hand up to his mouth to find that his own lips were curved up into a wide smile.

“Hoseok,” he managed, although he felt like his voice wasn’t as confident and stable as usual. “Would you lay out two pairs of nightclothes for me tonight?”

The valet whirled around on the spot, looking baffled. “Two pairs?”

“Yes,” Seokjin flushed, moving over to the window and drawing the curtain back a bit. The fountain bubbled and danced far below, but he couldn’t see in the darkness if anyone was out there yet. “I’m going to need two pairs.”

“Your Highness…?” Hoseok worked his lip, straightening up and crossing his arms over his chest before he came over to the man’s side. “Seokjin?”

That caused Seokjin to turn his head, curious at the rarely used familiarity. “Yes?”

“I don’t want you to rush into things too fast, is all…” Hoseok placed out every word carefully, like perfectly aligned blocks that he had set out with the utmost attentiveness. “After all, these men came here knowing you were setting out with marriage in mind. It wouldn’t be far-fetched to find they were taking advantage of you through their own designs. I know you’ve been charmed, but please be cautious; Yoongi may not be as--”

“It is not Yoongi who has captured my attentions,” Seokjin said quietly, finding himself biting at his lip in order to suppress the smile there. “It is the youngest, Jeongguk.”

Hoseok blinked in surprise at that. “Jeongguk? But he’s their seventh son, he didn’t even come here seeking your hand.”

Seokjin’s eyes sparkled. “Amazing, isn’t it? It just happened.” He sighed, staring out the window a little more at the deepening darkness. “I can’t explain it, there’s no logical reasoning. But when I’m near him, I feel young again. I can’t keep my composure like normal, and I want to know more about him.”

The valet tilted his head at him, still looking worried and perplexed, but at last he murmured, “I hope he doesn’t take your smile away as easily as he’s given it back to you.”

“I hope the same,” Seokjin’s expression darkened, his brow furrowing. “God, I can’t believe i’m even doing this.”

“The ball is tomorrow,” Hoseok offered, “Should I place him near you?”

Seokjin considered this for a long time, staring out into the darkness. He could have sworn he saw something moving out near the fountain, and he turned to see that Hoseok had already laid out the spare nightclothes.

“No,” he said at last, “Place him near Namjoon. I want his opinion, and I suspect that if he were to sit too close to me at that point in time, I wouldn’t be able to converse with anyone else.” There was an unspoken suspicion in the air, however, that that wouldn’t make a difference, anyways. His attention would be held by one pair of soft brown eyes. It was left unsaid, and Hoseok finished undressing Seokjin in his thin white nightshirt, feeding the fire before bidding him goodnight.

Seokjin tried to wait, he truly did; but it wasn’t long before he was slipping on a pair of breeches and gold-threaded robe  and casually striding down the corridor. No one questioned his walking through, naturally, and most of the servants had gone downstairs, the guests tucked into their chambers, so he didn’t see many wanderers as it was. He used his key to unlock the main entrance and made his way down the front steps. The lovely roar of the fountain met him before the sight of the figure he had been looking for. A lean but muscular back was turned toward him, the young man sitting on the edge of the pond with his legs dangling into the water. Seokjin took in a breath.

“Good evening,” Seokjin said. Jeongguk turned, jumping a little at his voice. “What fate to run across you here, entirely unintentionally. Might I join you?”

“Certainly,” Jeongguk said quietly, and in the moonlight, his shy smile seemed even brighter somehow. In a flicker, Jeongguk’s eyes shot from Seokjin’s shoulders down to his knees, and he turned around on his seat and determinedly fixated his gaze on the stone bowl in the center of the fountain. Seokjin wanted to tease him for his obvious self-consciousness, but he was just as much a victim of it.

He placed one leg into the fountain, sitting a little ways from Jeongguk’s side as he let his robe drop off his shoulders and placed it by his side in a neat little pile. The water felt lovely against his sore feet, and he looked up into the sky and relinquished a long sigh. Either the gesture or the sound caught the attention of his companion, and he felt Jeongguk’s eyes on him.

“It’s a beautiful night,” Seokjin said quietly.

“It is,” Jeongguk replied in kind.

Seokjin looked over at Jeongguk. He wasn’t even looking up at the sky. He was just indisputably staring at the Crown Prince, mouth slightly parted. They met gazes, transfixed by each other’s expressions as though experiencing it for the first time. Jeongguk’s face was more angular and mature than his mind’s eye had told him, but the wide, expressive eyes were still there, filled with mild panic and uncertainty even as his body language, slowly angling itself to face Seokjin more directly, suggested that he wanted to be there.

“Did you…” Jeongguk licked his lips nervously. “Did you come into the maze looking for Yoongi?”

“No, I didn’t.” Seokjin smiled softly, his words slow and careful. He looked up at the way Jeongguk’s hair curled across his brow, at the contrast of youthful felicity and gentle knowledge in his face. With a long, hesitating moment, Seokjin reached out and brushed his fingertips against the edges of Jeongguk’s fringe, almost feeling Jeongguk’s tiny gasp of wonder within his own chest as well. Realizing what he had done, Seokjin drew his hand back, standing up abruptly in the fountain and taking a few sweeping strides out toward the center. Jeongguk soon followed after, hovering behind him.

“You know, you can be quite perplexing,” Jeongguk said suddenly, trailing around Seokjin and peering into his face with playful accusation.

“I’ve gotten that before,” Seokjin said, eyes twinkling in the moonlight. “But what makes you say it now?”

Jeongguk took a step back, leaning his shoulders against the body of the stone bowl, looking up at the overhanging lip where the water trailed off above him. Seokjin unconsciously stepped a little closer to him, halting between two streams of water sloshing down around him, feeling the slight dampness of the mist against his skin, raising goosebumps as Jeongguk cocked his head to the side a bit.

“Everyone has been telling me that your smiles are rarer and harder to achieve than trying to ride the wind up into the heavens,” Jeongguk murmured quietly, smiling. “But I haven’t found that to be true in the least.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I think it’s very easy.” Jeongguk smiled, leaning forward smirking up at Seokjin, then suddenly widening his eyes exaggeratedly, creating an amusing face. The Crown Prince’s lips started to quiver upwards, gently at first and then more wildly the longer Jeongguk sent him the silly expression, until he broke down into soft laughter.

“Not fair,” Seokjin said, his mouth hidden behind his raised hand. Jeongguk looked quite proud of himself, moving a little back. Without thinking, Seokjin took a step forward.

“I’m fair,” Jeongguk insisted, glancing up at the lip of the bowl again. “In fact, it’s very fair, considering last night. Now it’s your turn to feel embarrassed.”

Seokjin rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to retort when suddenly a huge gush of water slammed down against his head, dousing him entirely in fountain water from above. He spluttered in surprise, gasping at the coolness, and he heard Jeongguk’s unrestrained laughter. Seokjin coughed, then wiped his eyes clear, blinking until Jeongguk came back into focus. Jeongguk had hidden himself under the protection of the lip of the bowl, slyly leading Seokjin right into the path of the waterfall he had known was coming. Water dripped and ran down every part of him, and Seokjin jutted his tongue out against his cheek, wanting to reprimand and simultaneously applaud him for a move well played.

“You’re too much,” Seokjin laughed. Jeongguk just shrugged, compelling Seokjin to reach down and splash a thick torrent of water up at the prince, making him cry out in laughter. Seokjin moved forward, grabbing Jeongguk’s wrist and trying in vain to yank him into the stream nearby, and Jeongguk leaned back, planting his feet and squealing with mirth as he tried to wriggle free. One hand gripped uselessly against the side of the bowl, and he laughed, fighting valiantly. The stone bottom was slick, however, and in a moment Jeongguk’s feet slipped, sending him tumbling forward and onto his bottom, legs entangling with Seokjin’s as they both splashed messily into the pond. Seokjin was sure he had swallowed a fair amount of the water already, coughing as he propped himself up on his hands and knees. Jeongguk, still mostly in the water, was roughly wiping at his eyes, his lips parted and cute teeth revealed as he gasped for air after being thoroughly dunked and soaked through. Seokjin’s brow furrowed, finding himself glancing down at Jeongguk’s chest and finding that, as with the night before, the man’s nipples were already erect from the cool water, dark circles that were clearly visible through the thin fabric of his soaked nightshirt.

He hadn’t realized he was staring until Jeongguk reached out and shoved him in the shoulder, sending him back onto his bottom with a bit of a yelp and a splash.

“As if you’re not the same,” Jeongguk pouted, laying one hand across to cover his own chest until he could roll over onto his hands and knees, dipping most of himself back in the water to half-crawl, half-swim to the edge. Leaning up against the square stones of the low wall, Jeongguk sighed, drawing his arms up to rest on the relatively dry surface. Seokjin followed behind him, feeling like a little kid as they kicked their feet lazily in the water that was really only deep enough for them to wade in. Seokjin leaned up onto the low wall next to Jeongguk, watching the man look up into the sky above.

They waited in a long silence, and Seokjin followed Jeongguk’s gaze and looked up at the stars above them, able to pick out Cassiopeia, Andromeda, and others.

“Daioka’s capital is called the city of stars,” Jeongguk said suddenly, and Seokjin let out a little hum of curiosity. “But you can’t see them as clearly there as you can here. I guess because of the climate difference.” Jeongguk leaned a little more forward, resting his head in the crook of his crossed arms as he sighed toward the heavens. “Actually, I was born under the unluckiest star, in the unluckiest month, and of my brothers I’m the unlucky number seven.”

“Oh?” Seokjin looked up at the sky.

“Yes. I used to suspect that because I was a lost star, that fate was out of my hands.”

Jeongguk’s eyes were glassy and distant, the rush of the fountain behind them as they dangled their feet in the water together, pale feet glowing in the light of the almost-full moon. “Most people born under my star are seen as lost wanderers, who only bring misfortune and sorrow. I don’t want that. I don’t want to be a burden to others, but I don’t know which direction to go.” Seokjin watched Jeongguk for a moment, then the boy looked over at him and smiled. “But in a sense, aren’t we all lost stars?”

At that, Seokjin sent him a smile in return, albeit one laced with melancholy. “Perhaps we are. But let the record stand, that I don’t think you bring misfortune or sorrow. Quite the opposite.” Seokjin turned to face towards the palace, with its elegant towers and the fires that flickered reddish-orange glows into various windows. “Tora is my purpose, so I want to make her stronger. I built up her walls and made her able to withstand most any threat that could be posed against us. But I suppose in so doing, I forgot what was meant to be her very essence. I made her strong but hollow, missing vivacity and heart.”

The young prince watched Seokjin for a long moment, a soft little smile coming to his lips. “You see Tora as yourself, don’t you?

Seokjin blinked at Jeongguk for a moment, then gave a slow nod. “I suppose I do.”

“Then I think you have plenty of heart,” Jeongguk stated simply. “And I’m sure Tora understands that.”

He just sat there so casually, as if everything was compact and easily understood, and something about the way he had said it made Seokjin start to believe it, too. Perhaps it didn’t have to be very complex or valiant, some sort of disheartening sacrifice from which he just had to grimace and bear. Seokjin felt like he held the answer on the tip of his tongue. Jeongguk could remain at Tora. They could be married on Christmas Day, amidst the snow. Tora would offer Jeongguk’s family protection from outside threats, would keep his homeland safe, and his bright, youthful smile could be at Seokjin’s side always, warming him from the inside out. He could be much more than a lost star, but the North star to Seokjin’s sky, burning so brightly it would melt his mask away forever, as if Jeongguk was the warrior come to break the evil spell that Seokjin had placed upon himself without even realizing the depths to which he had pushed himself.

Jeongguk let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping. Seokjin could see the muscles shift stiffly between the transparency and the wrinkles. The boy’s head turned to the night sky, Seokjin reached out his hand, fingertips hovering just above the back that he wanted to reach out and touch, to offer comfort toward and to take comfort from in return.

“Most people didn’t expect me to survive childhood, due to the how much bad luck I have. I think it’s expected that Yoongi has to marry first. So I really hope he can find someone he can be happy with.”

Seokjin’s hand halted, a mere breath’s distance from touching Jeongguk’s back, and he drew back. He couldn’t believe he had nearly forgotten about Yoongi, amidst all of this. Was he doing wrong by Tora, considering the seventh son instead of Daioka’s second? The secondary heir, the more well-known prince, over the one who was doomed to be overlooked because of his cursed birthright? The whole purpose of the festival, of inviting everyone to Tora and the godforsaken meetings, greetings, salutations and niceties, was to find Tora a valuable social connection, a warm presence at her back amidst all the foreign relations. He needed someone with reputation and loyalty as their backbone. Would not the safer bet, the better choice for the sake of Tora, be to choose Yoongi instead?

Would asking for Jeongguk’s hand in a sense, be abandoning his own birthright, and choosing himself before his entire country?

Perhaps, perhaps. But perhaps it is all right, if just once, I indulged into myself. To make Tora a better reflection of myself and my own happiness, need I not create such a happiness within my own heart?

“Jeongguk…” Seokjin murmured, and the man turned to him, lifting his head from his arms and meeting Seokjin’s eyes. He swallowed thickly.

As if drawn by some magnetic force, he and Jeongguk leaned in towards each other, and he could see the droplets of water from the fountain still clinging to his upper lip, tucked into the endearing cupid’s bow. Seokjin leaned forward, his eyes locked on those lips, imagining that they would feel strangely cool against his own, slightly blueish from being in the water. His head tilted a little to the side, transfixed as he was drawn forward from that invisible thread tugging at his chest. He gave the lightest little inhale, then seeing the way Jeongguk’s eyes widened, he froze in place.

Besides, in all of this, his smiles and attentions, his fumbling without the mask, had Jeongguk given him any signs of reciprocity? The fact remained that he had cleverly kept any indication of his own feelings held close to his chest. Jeongguk was kind to him, true. He seemed to be particularly talented in bringing out the best in Seokjin’s attentions. But had he ever sought him out, or done more than politely required for a Crown Prince?

His confidence shattered, and he felt it a cruel trick of fate, a foul-tasting irony, that the one person he most wanted to exhibit those woes to, was the one person who was the root cause of all of the sudden pain in the tight clutches of his heart.

Jeongguk’s lips remained parted in that innocent expression, staring at Seokjin and waiting to see what he would do, why he had called his name. At long last, Seokjin drew back. It wouldn’t do, to lay all the burden of his self-inflicted curse on someone who had never asked for that burden. Seokjin was the one culpable for his own crimes and punishments. Jeongguk had been nothing but kind to him. A good friend, perhaps, a spectre Seokjin had been drawn to from the moment he’d seen him, sensing their compatibility from the start.

Aware that he was pushing his boundaries of what was acceptable, physically and emotionally, Seokjin drew himself back and away from Jeongguk, his placid expression falling down over his face like a spring rain. “Thank you, for your kind words. I will do my utmost to do Daioka justice and give your brother the most serious consideration, for the sake of both of our kingdoms.”

Jeongguk, who normally seemed easy to read, straightforward and honest, was suddenly surrounded by a cloud of something Seokjin couldn’t put a name to, couldn’t explain coherently. It was just darkness, and vile aftertaste, and unspokenness.

“Oh, I see.”Jeongguk nodded, turning away and looking out at the palace steps. “Thank you, your Highness.”

The words were the stiffest and coldest that he had spoken to Seokjin, and he was more than a little startled by it. Jeongguk glanced over with just his eyes, then tilted his head to the side, scrunching up his nose as if in humor and smiling.

“Don’t look so upset. I can assure you my brother is pretty quiet and kind. He doesn’t even snore.”

“That’s more than I can say for my brother,” Seokjin shot back automatically, before he could stop himself. “His entire wing sounds like a great beast is hibernating in there.”

And Jeongguk laughed. He laughed openly at that, slapping the water a little and making it splatter against them. They told jokes about both the most wonderful and horrendous traits their brothers possessed, comparing their more unique behaviors, until Seokjin noticed Jeongguk was shivering.

His instinct, his desire, was to drawn Jeongguk to him, to let him curl up against his chest and wrap his arms around the younger man. He wanted to kiss warmth into his slightly blueish lips.

The greatest comfort he could expect from his greatest heartbreak, he figured, was that at least if he were to marry Yoongi, then he could still be near Jeongguk. That wouldn’t be so bad. They could be like brothers, teasing and endeared to each other.

“We should get back inside,” he said quietly, settling for briefly touching his hand to the edge of Jeongguk’s. The young prince looked at their fingers as though perplexed that he would even attempt such a gesture, and then he stood up. Water dripped from his clothes as the fabric clung teasingly to his body. He leaned down and offered his hand to help Seokjin up, smiling down at him with that childlike grin. Seokjin took his hand, praying to god that Jeongguk couldn’t feel the weight, the tickling, bubbling, whirlwind of feelings that spun underneath his skin from the contact.

He should probably try to avoid touching Jeongguk, he decided.

They wrapped their dry robes around them, having thought ahead this time, and made their way back up the main steps. Seokjin opened the door for them, then lit a candelabra, walking his guest back to his room.

They paused just outside the door, and Jeongguk looked expectant. Seokjin a little upward curve of his lips, meant to be reassuring, and bowed.

“Sleep well, Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk’s hand fiddled with the end of the knob, the angle of his arm making the robe loosen slightly, and drawing attention to his still wet chest. The skin rose and fell with his breathing, as though exerted, and he wasn’t meeting Seokjin’s eyes.

“Sleep well, your Highness,” he said in a rush, bowing half-heartedly before slipping inside his chambers. Seokjin stood, staring at the door for a long time.

Goodnight. I love you, Jeongguk.

Feeling more than a little sentimental, he did what his mother used to do for her children every night. He softly placed his fingertips against his lips, blowing a silent flying kiss towards the door, secretly willing the gesture to somehow reach Jeongguk, to reassure him beyond what Seokjin was allowing himself to give.

He went to bed, and he slept very little.

~~~~~

The ball for the festival, for all intents and purposes, was a three day event. It started mid-week, and would be held for three nights, followed by the final day of the festival, which would end in a celebratory banquet. Everyone, including the guests, expected the banquet to be the time and place at which the Crown Prince would announce his choice in betrothed, even though it was never so directly promised or suggested. It was the natural order of things, the undefined and soft-edged things.

Taehyung wasn’t very good with the undefined.

It was the third and final day of the ball, and Taehyung was just exhausted . He trudged his way up towards Jimin’s room with much less of his natural grace and with more candor and irritability, even when one of the main staff from a visiting kingdom wandered past and gave him an evil eye for his demeanor. Jeongguk had been either missing, off on some random exploration or other with a poor excuse, or he was in his chambers, complaining constantly of headaches and begging to be left alone. He missed most of the first night of the ball, and nearly half of the second, and Taehyung was worried that he was still brooding on in his valiant but (in Taehyung’s opinion) unnecessary concern with not bothering anyone else around him with actual directness.

Jimin had been, to say the least, his normal charismatic, flirtatious self, so Taehyung did not want to upset his natural flow and order when he was clearly on a high point of his socializing career.

And Yoongi….

Taehyung did not want to think about Yoongi, but it wasn’t really something he could avoid at all hours. Especially not when he had to bear witness to Jimin’s coos and exaltations every time the Crown Prince looked Yoongi’s way, or ventured to converse or dance with him. Jimin had attempted to corner Taehyung for the last couple of days with a reason as to why he so stubbornly disapproved of the match, but there was nothing he could say against the Crown Prince himself, or the connection the marriage would mean for Daioka and their people. The Prince, he had found, was kind and loyal, humble yet proud. A free spirit whom he was sure he would connect with in an easy, banter-like manner, should their paths have crossed at any other sort of juncture.

The footman sighed, reaching out for the door handle to Jimin’s chambers, to collect and prepare him for the ball, which was to begin soon. But he didn’t even have a chance to get near enough before the door shot open of its own accord, and a figure he did not expect emerged.

“Hoseok?” Taehyung arched a confused eyebrow.

The valet gasped, quite obviously flustered and disheveled. His hair was a mess and he seemed to be sweating, the tails of his shirt jutting out at an angle which, for a servant in a royal household, was far beyond unacceptable and nearing the damnation range.

“T-Taehyung!” Hoseok managed. He flashed a broad smile, and Taehyung narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “We were just inspecting the fireplace again, but it seems to be working now. I must go find the Crown Prince! Time has slipped away from us, it seems!”

Just where has that smiling mouth of yours been just a few moments ago, my good sir?

Taehyung watched Hoseok scurry down the hall, tucking in his shirt properly as he went, his fingers moving with the ease of an expert even as he was obviously flustered in mannerisms. When the valet was gone, Taehyung looked back into the room to see Jimin laying casually on his unmade bed, one calf resting against his other knee as he hummed. He was still wearing the majority of his outfit from the horseback ride he had allegedly gone on that afternoon. His cheeks still had the faint flush clinging to them, and he looked blissfully pleased with himself.

“How long has that been going on?” Taehyung asked, closing the door behind him.

Jimin looked up and beamed at his footman, then laid his head back against his pillows and made a sound of amusement. “What can I say? I’m a man who goes after what he wants. And this time, it was more than reciprocated.”

“You’re a prince,” Taehyung rolled his eyes, “Are you surprised?”

“I really like him,” Jimin hummed. “And not just for what you think. In my expedition to play matchmaker for my brother, Hoseok has become more than an acquaintance or even a trusted confidante.”

At the mention of Yoongi, Taehyung’s bad mood rolled back in like a dark storm on the edge of a vast field, ominous and overcast in shadow.

“We should prepare you quickly for the ball tonight. I want to get you ready a bit early so I can go ensure that Jeongguk doesn’t find some way to skirt the celebrations again tonight.”

“What is with him, I wonder?” Jimin wondered, mostly to himself. But he stood up obediently and outstretched his arms for Taehyung to start stripping him down. “Perhaps he’s been lonely. As his brother I haven’t exactly been on top of keeping him company, with Hoseok and Yoongi and everything.” Jimin worked his lips in thought, scrunching his nose cutely even as Taehyung lowered his riding pants, revealing a myriad of red marks all along his leg. Taehyung wanted to roll his eyes. Hoseok’s handiwork, no doubt. They hurried through his bath, preparing his hair and makeup with all due care. Jimin babbled the entire time excitedly, still high off the rush of his day’s activities and his perceived success.

“Maybe he just needs his own young love to keep him occupied. Jeongguk has never been overtly interested in marital affairs or romance, but it would do him good, don’t you think? What about Namjoon, the Crown Prince’s brother?”

“What about him?”

“Do you think he might be suitable for Jeongguk?” Jimin frowned down at Taehyung, who was trying to busy himself with buttons and lacings. “He’s extremely sweet, although very clumsy, so perhaps they are a bit similar in that sense…”

“Jeongguk isn’t interested in Prince Namjoon,” Taehyung promised, the words slipping out with all due bitterness, before he realized what he was revealing. He glanced up to see Jimin’s wide eyes locked on him.

“Has he told you he’s interested in someone?! Who?!” Jimin leapt forward, his eyes shining at the prospect of Jeongguk (his baby brother for whom he would instantly sacrifice most anything) having found love.

Taehyung shook his head, his foul mood not helping him much in the realms of patience. “Don’t ask me, ask him yourself if he has interest in someone. I just said he wasn’t interested in Namjoon.”

Jimin instantly deflated, sighing as Taehyung put the finishing touches on his outfit. As always, Jimin looked like a perfect princely image, down to the gentle curve of his hair across his brow to the almost musical way he moved his body across a room. Hoseok didn’t stand a chance.

“You’re ready,” Taehyung said, managing a smile. “Now I’ll go find Jeongguk.”

“Thank you, Taehyung,” Jimin beamed, patting his friend and servant on the shoulder, before Taehyung set off down the hallway. It didn’t take him long to get to Jeongguk’s room, and when he opened the door, he found the young prince curled up on his bed facing the window, looking wilted. Taehyung crawled up behind him, embracing him fondly, and he heard the gentlest sniffle come from him.

“Tae-tae...” Jeongguk managed, reverting back to childhood nicknames in his sorrow. “I don’t know if I can see him. It’s supposed to get easier but it just gets harder . If I’m not miserable I feel numb and horrible.”

Taehyung ran his hand through Jeongguk’s hair, frowning. “I know the feeling.”

“It’s awful,” Jeongguk complained in a cry. “I should have suspected it, I’m the unlucky seventh star, but…” He didn’t make it through the entirety of his sentence, the words withering off into an indecipherable nothing of wet sounds. All Taehyung could think of to do was to rub soothing circles into his back, shushing him as a mother would her child.

“You’ll have to face him,” Taehyung said. “Just as I did. And look, Tora is so far away from home, at least you won’t have to see him every day. Take that as a small comfort, perhaps? You’ll only see him occasionally.”

“And there’s another problem,” Jeongguk sobbed quietly. “I’ll still look forward to any day I could see him, I’ll still wish for it, knowing it won’t happen.”

Taehyung frowned, his chest heavy with his worry for Jeongguk. He leaned down and kissed the boy on the cheek. “Let’s make him rethink you. We still have that special formal suit for the ceremony, do we not? Let’s have you wear it tonight.”

“B-but it…” Jeongguk wept, trying in vain to keep control of himself in his heartbreak. “It doesn’t suit me, I’m the unlucky lost sta--”

“Shhh…” Taehyung placed a finger against Jeongguk’s lips, smirking. “Tonight, let’s pretend we can change your luck.”

Jeongguk halted, considering for a quiet moment, and then he nodded. “Alright. I’ll do my best.”

“Wonderful! Let’s get you ready.”

Jimin usually took a little longer than preparing Jeongguk. Not because either of them necessarily needed more work, but because Jimin was the one with more elaborate senses of style, more moving parts that had to conglomerate together for one impactful image. Jeongguk was a simpler dresser, going with what was the most fashionable at the time but never paying it much mind, and more particular in the choices of fabrics alone than any sort of colors, cuts or pieces. But with the outfit intended for the final ceremony, Taehyung, Jimin and Jeongguk had gone all out, spoiling and teasing the youngest to push himself the furthest with this ensemble. It had been originally planned as almost a tongue in cheek sort of joke, to turn Jeongguk into a peacock or a doll for them. But in the end, they had ended up choosing flattering additions and suggesting ways to make it more attractive.

The final product was a deep blue suit made of velvet, with black pants. The vest buttoned up high and snug against his upper torso, emphasizing his muscular but slender frame. The sleeves were tapered off with long, billowy white sleeves from his undershirt, and a red choker graced his neck, twin silver chains dangling from it in delicate half moon shapes. The velvety blue coat, however, was the main piece. The back of it created a long train, trailing behind him into something between a cloak and a skirt, the edges dancing across the floor whenever he walked like an open sea. Sewn into the fabric of the dark blueness were diamonds cut into the shapes of stars, and they sparkled and sang out in demure, tingling song each time he moved. Dramatic blue and silver makeup trailed from his eyes, drawing attention to the wide, expressive brown there that held so much more emotion than the pink lips could suggest. He was, for tonight, a sky of luck-filled stars, bringing the lights of his life and happiness with him with every step, beautiful as he was dark and mysterious.

“Perfect,” Taehyung murmured, pleased at his work. For the first time in days, Jeongguk smiled again.

“Shall we go down, my prince?” Taehyung said dramatically. He offered a low bow to Jeongguk, earning a laugh as the prince slapped him across the shoulder playfully. Knowing he needed the support, Taehyung followed close behind him as he went down to the main ballroom.

The room was full, and the ball had already started. Half of the occupants of the room were currently employed in an upbeat, quickstep-inspired number. The couples were moving throughout the room, clapping and smoothly gliding around each other in their elaborate costumes. Reds, pinks, blues and purples swirled around the room in a cornucopia of colors. Taehyung felt his chest swell with pride as he noted that several of the lingering wallflowers had already noticed Jeongguk’s presence, whispering amongst themselves and gesturing with their hand-held cloth fans in his general direction. Jeongguk, not noticing at first, was scanning the room for a certain figure. He looked so sweet and seductive at the same time. Taehyung wanted to applaud him, but he was already pushing his limits of status in order to walk him into the room. Not to mention a figure dressed in bloodred had caught his eye, familiar in aura and bearance.

He touched Jeongguk’s arm, earning a little stiffening in surprise, and whispered to him, “I’ll be nearby if you need me. Good luck and I hope you find him.”

“Taehyung, I--” Jeongguk turned, but Taehyung was already slipping away, out one of the side doors onto a balcony. Yoongi was already there, a cigarette held to his lips as he stared out at the hedge garden below.

“Your Highness,” Taehyung said quietly, letting his presence be known and giving a small bow, before looking around to ensure no one else shared the intimacy of the balcony. He walked over to the stone railing, his voice dropping into one of a tease that belied the soft expression with which he was looking over at the prince. “Has the party wearied you so early, old man?”

Yoongi took a moment to exhale, the moonlight seemingly soaking into his doll-like skin. He held the cigarette between two lovely, masculine fingers. Boxy in shape and - as Taehyung knew well - lovely to the touch.

“My body is getting old, but it will never be as old as my soul is,” Yoongi retorted easily.

Nonplussed, Taehyung allowed his fingertips to dig into the stone of the railing. He went through his usual album of possible emotions, flipping through the mental book of his mind before deciding on bitterness. “Are you now so elevated, your Highness , as to not be able to look me in the eye?”

At that, he turned suddenly, meeting Taehyung’s eyes squarely, making the footman’s stomach turn into knots, flipping in shock as if he had just doused himself in ice water. Why was he still so weak to a man who had been very careful to never promise him anything?

“I am looking at you, Tae,” he said quietly, inhaling from the cigarette once again. “Did you come here to ask something of me?”

Yoongi took a moment to exhale, the trail of smoke escaping his lips and coiling around his face before the breeze changed, blowing it directly into Taehyung. The smell of cigarette smoke had been forever altered for him.

“I came to see you, naturally,” he said. “And to tell you that your brother’s heart may have been stolen, right out from under your preoccupied nose.”

Yoongi considered this, seemingly confused. “Jimin?”

Taehyung knew the answer wasn’t quite a yes, but that was how he responded, keeping Jeongguk’s dilemma hidden in his chest - along with the irony that the intended marriage between Yoongi and the Crown Prince was creating not just one, but two unhappy couples. Where was the comedic part of their Shakespearean play? Where was Robin Goodfellow when one needed him the most?

“He’s been swept off his feet….by the Crown Prince’s valet.”

Yoongi’s cigarette fell from his hand, the prince visibly shaken and surprised. He attempted to cover it up, as he always did, with feigned nonchalance. He dug the only half-used cigarette beneath one heel, extinguishing it. Taehyung knew that once he had a chance, he would secretly pick it up later, for further, unwasteful use. That was just Yoongi’s careful way.

“Are you sure?”

“Extremely. I very nearly walked in on them today. The beast with two backs was only just divided into a pair of beings.”

“My god…”

“Which brings the question to my mind…” Taehyung managed through slightly gritted teeth. “Who is it you’re exactly fearing judgment from? Can you really sit by without a care as your younger brother elopes with a valet from another kingdom, barely having known him a week, all the while pretending as though this doesn’t exist between us? You’re a devil, Yoongi Min.”

“Jimin has…” Yoongi himself seemed thrown, an uncommon sight. “Jimin has less obligations. He’s sixth son. I’m second .”

“Which means,” Taehyung said tactfully, “That everything is still intended to go to your eldest brother anyways. And if anything should happen to him, I will already be by your side, ready to outlast any outcries in the aftermath. With you.”

“Tae…” Yoongi mumbled, sounding more shaken by the second. Perhaps Taehyung had found, in this perfectly beautiful mirror with himself and Jimin, the way to break down Yoongi’s stubborn logic at last. He pressed forward, cupping Yoongi’s cheeks with his broad hands and leaning down until his lips pressed against the elder’s.

“Forget the Crown Prince,” Taehyung breathed hotly against him, “Only look at me.”

Their aggressive dance, mingled with delicate vulnerability in between, had been their natural way. Spitting fire at each other beneath their breath one moment, and interlacing their fingers the next. So he kissed him roughly, with the same frustrated anger and neediness that he had kissed him with the first time. But on this night, beneath the watching moon, Yoongi’s eyes were edged with tears.

~~~~~

Seokjin was sitting in a chair nearby the refreshment tables for a moment’s break. The last two nights had been sheer torture. Not only had there been little to no sign of Jeongguk, but he had been left to fend mostly for himself since his valet was mysteriously missing for increasingly large periods lately. Namjoon was doing his best to energize his brother with reassurances and pats on the shoulder when their busy paths crossed, but he was feeling beyond drained. He felt weighed down and weary, sleeping less with each consecutive night, and he highly suspected that Yoongi had picked up on it, even though Seokjin had (as he had promised Jeongguk in the fountain) done his best to give Yoongi a chance at any opportunity.

Even if the mere thought of Jeongguk made his chest ache.

He was supposed to dance the next two songs with a very beautiful and kind lady from the neighboring kingdom, but he could not for the life of himself remember her name. He had had to meet so many people, so many blurring faces and attempt cold, insincere smiles so often, his head was starting to spin. He sipped at his wine,

“Good evening,” called a familiar voice. Seokjin’s head shot up, meeting the eyes of none other than Jeongguk. Seokjin’s eyes widened, looking him up and down for a long moment, inspecting the brilliant blues and browns and shy smiles which made up the youngest visiting prince. “What fate to run across you here, entirely unintentionally. Might I join you?”

Seokjin met gazes with Jeongguk. He could have sang at the top of his voice, cheered to see him back and actually willing to interact again. But he had to maintain his composure, because once Jeongguk left, Seokjin had to have the strength to return to his mask. He couldn’t afford to have it slip away from him again.

Well, at least not after tonight. The ache that had been pounding in his head seemed to lessen when he smiled up at the young man, and murmured a grateful, “It would be an honor.”

The moment their hands touched, Seokjin felt his heart rate speed up, a wonderful, thrilling heat that encompassed his whole body. He led Jeongguk out onto the dance floor, their steps confident and smooth, reassured by the weight of each other’s hands. Like an elaborate child’s game, they walked in perfect rhythm, moving down the line of dancers with their eyes locked on each other. Anytime they were moved close enough to rejoin, a smile seemed to blossom across Jeongguk’s mouth, and he would bite his lip in a vain attempt to to hide it. Seokjin smiled warmly at him.

He had missed him, cursed be to god.

A part of his mind knew that Jeongguk, in his star-filled glory and beauty, was only increasing the level of interest in the two of them, murmurs rising up around the room. But he couldn’t hear them. He could only see the turbulence in Jeongguk’s eyes, the way he would flicker between blissful happiness and a wounded look which Seokjin didn’t understand.

“You make for a handsome star,” Seokjin finally said, as they walked down the line formed by dancing party-goers, their hands held up between them and pressed palm to palm. “I’m not surprised in the least.”

“It seemed fitting,” Jeongguk said in a quiet voice. “I tend to like ironies and dark jokes.”

Seokjin paused for a moment, letting his words sink in before he said, “Did you just say you like dark jokes and that’s why you have a suit that looks like it was made of the night sky?”

“If you explain the joke, it’s not funny anymore,” Jeongguk smacked him lightly on the forearm, turning his head and biting his lip as the next step required them to move in close. His chest pressed up close to Jeongguk’s, he realized that the young man was more slender than he had realized, although their height was nearly equal. “Didn’t anyone tell you that? Or were they too worried about offending the Crown Prince’s bad sense of humor?”

“They may have been, at that,” Seokjin said, smiling down at the prince. “You still seem to be the prettiest star out tonight, in either case.”

Jeongguk frowned, flushing and making a face like he wanted to focus on the dance, so Seokjin let their conversation falter. They danced the next four dances together, ignoring the stubborn waves from possible suitors who were waiting in queue for the next dance with the Crown Prince, and only stopped because they were totally winded. Seokjin beamed at Jeongguk as they sighed into their seats, and Seokjin passed him a glass.

“Unfortunately, I’ll have to be drawn away for awhile,” Seokjin reassured, resting back into his seat and finally feeling relaxation creeping into his bones for the first time in days. Perhaps he needed a little more exercise and exhaustion from dancing to help calm him. “I have an obligation to not pay too much favoritism to only one guest, unfortunately.”

“Understandable, I suppose,” Jeongguk murmured, sipping his wine. He seemed on edge, and Seokjin wasn’t sure why, but he was feeling too relieved at the boy’s presence in general to linger too much on it.

“Oh, listen, I was wanting to talk to you.” He turned to smile unabashedly at Jeongguk, not realizing in his wine-and-dance induced dizziness that his hand had coiled around the back of Jeongguk’s head, his fingers gently running through the boy’s hair. “I talked to my father, and he’s agreed that we can add on another set of quarters off in a bit of extra land, out closer towards the seaside. If Yoongi accepts my proposal, I can get started on it right away, and you would be able to live in it starting next summer, if all goes well.”

“Is...is that so…?” Jeongguk stammered, his eyes flickering everywhere but directly at Seokjin.

“Yes! So you won’t have to be gone long at all!” He was practically beaming now, leaning in towards Jeongguk’s face until he was able to see the warning sparkles of tears in his eyes, his hand clutching desperately at the train of his costume. “I’d be able to see you every day. I’ll even arrange for you to have your own horse in the stables, and there’s this field where--”

“That’s enough!” Jeongguk cried suddenly, leaping up from the seat as though it were on fire. Seokjin stared, confused with his hand still hovering over the back of Jeongguk’s chair.

“What’s wrong?”

“You...you just…” Jeongguk looked as though he wanted to scream, the people around them paused and staring. Namjoon pushed his way through the crowd, a glass in his hand and worry on his lips. “Do you really think so little of me?!”

“What’s going on?” he asked. Without replying, Jeongguk stormed his way up the main staircase, leaving Seokjin feeling as though the happy high which he had been on, the balloon which had let him transcend the ball and giddily float above it, had been mercilessly and violently struck down.

~~~~~

It was long past midnight, but Seokjin hadn’t slept a single wink.

The headache which had plagued him earlier that day had only intensified after Jeongguk’s outburst. The party had wound down hours ago, Hoseok had very briefly assisted him for bed before vanishing again, and he had been painfully left alone with his own thoughts for the last several hours.

He stood staring out the window at the fountain, which before this venture had never earned more than a passing glance from him. It was almost as if he could still feel the cool, gentleness of the water against his skin, could still smell the grime at the bottom and feel it underfoot. Could still see Jeongguk’s parted pink lips, moving in nervousness as Seokjin stared and imagined all sorts of what-ifs.

It wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t do at all.

At this, his most vital moment, he didn’t have Namjoon, or Hoseok, to aid him in calming himself down, in allowing him to rationalize or work through things. They weren’t available, so it was left up to him, as Crown Prince, as a man, to make this decision.

And he had decided, he couldn’t stand it.

Seokjin threw on his robe over his wide shoulders, clutching it around himself as he started off down the hallways, a half-lit candelabra clutched tightly in his fist. He was fairly certain he didn’t breathe properly until the moment he was in front of Jeongguk’s chamber door, knocking on it with surprising composure.

It took minutes; long, agonizing, paranoia-filled minutes, before the door clattered as it was unlocked, and a face appeared in the door. Seokjin’s heart clenched, seeing the sleep-ridden cheeks, puffed up and slightly pinking, the relaxed mouth that worked itself in confusion, and the redness under his eyes that suggested he had cried himself to sleep.

When Jeongguk saw who it was, he seemed understandably confused, then embarrassed. “Y-your Highness…?”

“I don’t care,” Seokjin said firmly, pushing his way into the chamber. Jeongguk offered no resistance, stepping back and blinking owlishly in confusion, but not protesting. Seokjin set the candelabra down on the bureau before he moved forward, taking gentle but firm hold of Jeongguk’s arms. “I don’t care, Jeongguk.”

“W-what? What do you mean?”

“I don’t care if you’re the unluckiest star in the universe,” Seokjin managed breathlessly, his voice rising higher in volume and pitch as he continued, shaking Jeongguk slightly, as if fearful that if he stopped, Jeongguk would slip away. “I don’t care about your luck or what anyone’s expectations are. If Tora is me, then all of Tora will want you, Jeongguk of Daioka, I swear to god. I’ve fallen for you completely, and I want to marry you , not some random viscount, not your older brother, no one but you . And I don’t want to let you go.”

At this unexpected display, Jeongguk stared wide-eyed up at Seokjin, his bottom lip starting to tremble. A distinct redness started to form at the edges of the youthful brown eyes, where the tears were forming. Seokjin, unsure what to do with this reaction, started to falter into clumsiness.

“I...I mean, that is, if… If you’ll have me,” Seokjin breathed, nervousness in his every muscle.

“If I was the one you wanted,” Jeongguk said slowly, with uncertainty. “Then why did you promise me you’d consider Yoongi?”

“I thought that’s what you wanted,” Seokjin said in a rush. “What Tora wanted. I thought you harbored no feelings for me.”

And Jeongguk smiled.

“Idiot,” he said, reaching up and cupping Seokjin’s cheek in his own. His palms were as warm and as soft as he remembered, and he leaned into the touch with a sigh. “Of course I’ll have you.”

“Thank god,” Seokjin said in a deadpan. “Because if you’d said no, I don’t know what I would have announced to all those guests tomorrow when they asked about my engagement.”

Jeongguk rolled his eyes, laughing. “Shut up and kiss me.”

“It would be an honor,” Seokjin breathed. He leaned in, touching his rounded lips to those pink angular ones, feeling a happy hum from Jeongguk when he pulled him in more greedily. The sensation of Jeongguk’s large hands running through his hair, exhaling hot breaths against his skin, was almost too much sweetness to bear. He felt like he was melting, and a laugh escaped him, of relief, of mirth, of happiness.

There were three people in the world to whom Seokjin didn’t mind revealing his true expressions to -- his younger brother Namjoon was one of those people. His lifelong best friend and valet Hoseok was the second.

The third was his lover, Jeongguk.