Archive of Our Own ^beta

The heavy thud of footsteps reverberated throughout the palace walls, thumping in tandem with the steady beating of the messenger boy’s heart. A royal decree. He held onto the scroll as if it were a lifeline, up the stairs, down the corridor and all the way into the throne room.

He pushed open the heavy brass doors ignoring the stitch in his side and the wind in his lungs before proclaiming loud and clear before the King and his closest advisors. “My king, my king,” he cries out of breath, “They’re sending for you. It’s a boy - a healthy baby boy.”

The trumpets sound - an heir to the throne is born.

°:.   *₊ ° .   ☆ ✮ °:.   *₊ ° . ° .•

They said she was infertile, that it was impossible. The King could have no heir, not from his wife. Some nights it was bearable, most nights there were tears. Day after day they spent praying to the Gods begging for a miracle.

He supposes by Hera’s grace they conceived a child. Out of pity perhaps? No, he was King. It was a birthright that the Gods would in some way concede to him. The Divine Right of Kings - or so he thought.

The queen sat on the bed in the middle of the room, silky white sheets cascading around her in delicate ribbons. With her hair fanned out in beautiful ebony ringlets she looked the absolute picture of happiness. In her arms there lay a child with rosy cheeks bundled up in warm blankets cooing softly against his mother’s chest.

Without a second to spare, the king made his way over to his wife and sat at the foot of the bed, gazing fondly upon his baby boy.

“How are you, my love?” Asks the King, reaching out to run his hand along her arm in a comforting manner.

“I am great.” She looks down lovingly at the child and rocks him gently back and forth. She beams up at the King and he notices her eyes are glassy with unshed tears, “I have truly never felt more wonderful. He’s here. Our son is here.”

“Can I, can I hold him?” He asks tentatively, the furrow of his brows indicative of his impatience. On the contrary though, he knew should his wife want to hold onto the child for longer, he wouldn’t push.

The queen chuckles, “Of course, my dear. He is yours too!” She smiles that radiant grin of hers and the king can’t help but feel a slight tug at his heartstrings.

She carefully hands the little bundle of joy over to the king and he tucks his son gently into his side and allows the prince’s tiny head to rest on his forearm. He’s never done this before so of course he approaches the situation with a bit of trepidation. The king worries if he’s holding on too strong, worries that he’ll accidentally drop the small child, carrying him as if he’s made of the most fragile china. But all these thoughts vanish the second the prince looks up at him with those sparkling doe eyes of his.

Faintly in the background, the court physician praises the prince, speaking of how beautiful he was and how well he had behaved - but really the king hears almost none of it.

He never thought he could fall in love so quickly. The king feels a damp wetness on his cheek and without noticing it, he begins to cry. It’s his son, his son, his son! Emotion overwhelms him, gripping his soul and refusing to let go. His precious baby boy was here in his arms, something they said he’d never have was here, tangible in this universe. His to love, to hold, to protect and to spoil with all the wonders of the world. He would make his son the happiest person alive. He deserved that much.

There’s a soft knock on the door that draws him out of his thoughts. The high priest enters the room with light footsteps and a gentle smile. “Your majesty,” he bows, “I’ve just returned from a visit to the oracle. Your son - he’s destined for greatness. He will be a conqueror like the world’s never seen. He will be invincible, indestructible and he will never in his lifetime lose a battle. It has been declared, signed, sealed and delivered by fate.”

Yes, he will be nothing less of brilliant at all he does, he is his son after all.

“Darling, what should we name him?” Asks the Queen, a wry smile painted on her face. The king briefly wonders what’s got that expression on her face but he doesn’t dote on it, rather focusing on the question itself.

The King brushes his fingers against his son's face, marveling at the three intricate little beauty marks that decorated his skin. It was truly as if the Gods had carved out an insignia on his cheeks, branding him as a divine miracle. A constellation as a constant reminder that they would always be in the sky looking down upon his son.

“What is he if not a gift from the Gods? What of Seongwu? Seong for holy, Wu for blessing.” Responds the King, the love in his eyes not dimming in the slightest.

They were going to be so happy, the three of them.

Or so he thought.

They’d find out in due time that the Gods never operated solely out of the goodness of their hearts - there was always a price to pay, always a deal to have been made.

The King loved his son more than anything in the world, perhaps only a little less than the queen. Which was why when the King discovered his wife’s betrayal, it devastated him all the much more. His own child’s well-being compromised by her selfish desires. Preposterous. There was no forgiveness no matter who it may be. From then the King became jaded - distant from both his son and his subjects.  

The birth of prince Ong Seongwu was the last time they were happy because soon after the Queen was exiled without a word or an explanation. The people were left in disarray.

Only time would tell Seongwu why that was the case; and when it did? It would make sure it hurt .

°:.   *₊ ° .   ☆ ✮ °:.   *₊ ° . ° .•

Prince Seongwu grows up in relative seclusion, his days are planned down to the second. Fencing and archery lessons coupled with royal duties and an expected fluency in multiple languages kept him busy. He doesn’t exactly have the time for friends - he supposes the fencing partners brought in for him to spar with don’t count. Not one ever comes back to see him again anyway.

When you’re constantly praised for your greatness and told you’re invincible it’s not surprising he grows up a little arrogant, a little over his head. It remains a fact he’s never lost a fight in his ten years of life. The opponents he faces are always older than him, maybe even double his age and yet not once does he falter, his steps just as sharp, movements just as precise. His victory is always clean, always obvious.

It’s lonely at the top - well and truly. Seongwu knows it firsthand. He uses this isolation to the fullest. He throws himself into perfecting his wit and his charm, honing his skills until it’s nothing less than flawless. Because that’s the thing- princes don’t have weaknesses, not if they’re to be king one day. By 10 he’s already mastered the art of being artificially charming; a practiced prevaricator who could whistle lies through his teeth. No one ever questions him, he could probably charm the venom straight out of a cobra.

Seongwu develops a reputation around the palace. He’s a nuisance really, crooked smiles hiding crooked teeth to add to that cheeky devil-may-care demeanor he so often sports. But he’s also handsome, so much so that the ladies in waiting often gather just across the riverbed to watch him on his days off as he stretches out on a warm patch of grass. They whisper about cherubs and angels; how maybe just maybe it was Paris of Troy’s reincarnate blessed with the indestructibility of Achilles without the heel that was lying just opposite from them.

His father is distant but Seongwu doesn’t fault him for it. Seongwu understands that he’s busy, he is King after all. On days he does see him though, there’s always a sort of melancholy rampant in his eyes hidden behind the blacks of his pupils. At first he assumed he imagined it, but time and time again it remains there, each more condensed than the last. Seongwu begins to see his Father less and less, that look in his eyes festering and growing stronger until finally his Father cannot bare to see him anymore, the only time they meet being at mandatory court banquets.

Seongwu learns, there’s something shiny about insubordination. Correction: There’s something shiny about insubordination when no one has the authority to tell you off. Maybe it’s the look on his toucon of a language teacher’s face as she jabs her taloned fingernails at him every time he isn’t paying attention. Most of the time he decides instead to draw nondescript pentagrams that bare an uncanny resemblance to certain parts of the human body over reciting the -yawn! alphabet. How scandalous. Maybe it’s because he wishes he were like the nightingales perched prettily on the big elm trees singing nature’s melodies to their heart’s content - free from the constraints that came attached to royalty. But the truth is, and ten year old Seongwu can digress as much as he pleases, it’s because it gets a reaction out of people. He wants to be reminded that he exists as something more than a vessel of future diplomacy, he wants people to care about him , because really that’s all anyone wants in the world, especially for a little boy that’s never known what it means to be well and truly happy. He pushes and pushes as most his age do because he wants a reaction. A scream directed at him, a shout, rage, paralyzing anger, anything! and yet still, all he gets is a sad smile and a carefully worded suggestion of inoffensive improvements for next time.

Responsibilities tether him to the ground whenever he feels like he’s flying far too far out of the boundaries he’s been set.  It reminds him that his actions have repercussions and every decision he makes isn’t just his own it affects the wellbeing of all in his kingdom.

Prince Seongwu eats alone in his section of the royal pagodas with nobody but silence to accompany him. Sometimes he sneaks down to the kitchen to eat with the cooks; he tells them it’s because the food smelled good. It’s a half truth - he doesn’t tell them it’s because he couldn’t stand the loneliness.

On the night of his eleventh birthday, Seongwu prays to the gods to give him someone to talk to. It can’t be that difficult. All he wants is a person to show him kindness, to understand him when no one else seems to be able to.

°:.   *₊ ° .   ☆ ✮ °:.   *₊ ° . ° .•

In hindsight, it’s funny that he remembers this day so poignantly. He doesn’t think about why till later on - but it’s the first instance it rears its ugly head, not that he even realizes until much later.

It’s the middle of autumn, the leaves have just turned a copper brown, papery thin in the way it crunches under Seongwu’s boots.

He’s in the the kitchen again, sniffing clay pots of various spices and kicking at some of the loose stones that were lifting up from the floor tiles. He’s bored, his attention span is for all intents and purposes the size of a pea. Not even one of those lush green ones from the plump pea pods in his garden, it’s more similar to one of those scrawny shriveled up ones that have been rolling around pruney and dehydrated since the summer.

So, Seongwu does what he always does - he pushes. He asks the unsuspecting scullery maid why he doesn’t have a mother. She startles and drops her ladle in the cast iron pot of soup.

She bends down and ever so carefully brings her apron up to wipe a piece of soot from the prince’s cheek. She kneels so she’s the same height as Seongwu and can speak to him face to face. When he gets a clear view of her expression he sees it in her eyes too, this melancholy that he’s so tired of. Though, he muses to himself, she’s not as good at concealing it as his father is.

“Darling, oh darling, it’s not my place to explain it to you. One day when you’re old enough maybe; but the world is harsh and cold and you’re such a sweet boy. I wish I could protect you, if I only could.” She gives him a sad smile and runs her hand along the side of his face.

“I used to be one of your mother’s ladies in waiting.”

The statement surprises Seongwu. Any piece of information regarding his mother had always been closely guarded, it was taboo to even speak of her. Seongwu knew he had already crossed some kind of boundary when he had brought up the question. But he was curious, and the more his attendants avoided the topic, the more he wanted to know. That was just human nature.

“That was before the King sent me down here because the sight of me reminded him of her.” She gets this faraway look about her, as if she’s recalling a distant memory and it paints just the faintest of smiles on her thin lips. “I can tell you she loved you though - you were her greatest joy, and what she did, she did only so you would succeed.”

Seongwu isn’t prepared when she pulls him into her arms so his head rests on her shoulders. It’s strangely warm.

“There’s always a silver lining no matter how bleak the future seems, my prince. Who’s to say one day you won’t find a way to defeat it. Happiness can't be policed and love, well, it’s the strongest emotion of all. In my opinion, once you find it, it could probably conquer death, time, space and maybe, just maybe even the gods and their damned games.”

Seongwu’s not sure he enjoys how she speaks in riddles. This isn’t a murder mystery or one of those martial arts novels on his reading list and yet something in him rattles at her declaration as if it speaks to a part of him he hasn’t quite discovered.

Seongwu’s eleven, gangly arms and awkward with affection because he’s rarely been afforded any. But he hugs back as tightly as he can, reveling in the moment.

It’s the first time someone’s shown care for him and Seongwu feels a tight squeeze in his chest. Seongwu decides he likes this feeling, in the simplest sense, it makes him happy. He doesn’t question her because he’s scared he’ll lose this, whatever it is.

But, he does anyway.

She falls ill with pneumonia soon after and Seongwu never quite knows what happens to her after that. He asks and asks but he’s never answered. It seems to become a pattern, to be told and not told.

°:.   *₊ ° .   ☆ ✮ °:.   *₊ ° . ° .•

Seongwu’s language teacher quits. She doesn’t leave a reason, only says she picked up a job in another city. It doesn’t really matter to Seongwu if he were being honest. No one in his life had ever promised him permanence so it wasn’t like he had expectations.

His new teacher was handpicked by his father. That piques his interest.

Yoon Jisung is a man in his early twenties. He’s a renowned philosopher with a knack for rhetorical questions and a penchant for sarcasm. What makes him the most different though - he doesn’t seem to care that Seongwu’s the prince, he treats him the same. His laughs are genuine when Seongwu cracks a joke and he doesn’t seem to have a problem poking fun at him every time he makes a mistake. It’s strangely refreshing, the cyclicity of the feigned professionalism his past teachers seemed to always put on was probably what unnerved Seongwu the most. Yoon Jisung comes into Ong Seongwu’s life with the force of a thousand stallions and is the first person that Seongwu hopes to the gods won’t leave him too.

His lessons with Jisung weren’t private one to one’s like his previous classes had been, but it’s no surprise he thrives off the newfound attention, basks in it even. The open-mouthed awe his classmates wear every time he prattles on about Socrates and Plato fans his ever increasing ego.

They’re all of nobility, from countries Seongwu doesn’t really care to remember the names of. Memorization was never his strong suit and frankly speaking he can’t even get around the palace without running into a wrong room or two.

Classes with Jisung quickly become the highlight of his day.

°:.   *₊ ° .   ☆ ✮ °:.   *₊ ° . ° .•

It’s a regular day. No, Seongwu takes it back, It’s a disgusting day. It’s hot and muggy, the temperature’s reached blistering levels proven in the way Seongwu’s thin garments adhere to him like a second skin, plastered with sweat and uncomfortable in the sweltering heat of the sun.

It’s as if it’s an omen for what’s about to come.

Everyone’s heard the warning, the same “don’t tie sentimental value to inanimate objects”. Realistically it only goads fate to rip it away from you. But that doesn’t stop Seongwu from always keeping that same little handkerchief tucked in one of his pockets. It was his mother’s. It looks plain enough, silk with baby pink embroidery of peonies. He doesn’t know why he kept it, he doesn’t even remember her and from what everyone’s said, she’s a criminal that’s ruined his life. Yet, it remains one of his most treasured possessions. He keeps it as a reminder that she existed at some point because sometimes, it’s easier to believe that she’s a figment of everyone’s imagination, like an urban legend.

He’s walking to the courtyard for one of his group lessons with Jisung. Hopefully this will brighten up his day. He takes a shortcut through the garden in the east wing, pulling out the handkerchief to look at as he often does when out for a stroll. Except this time, he doesn’t account for the spring breeze to strategically strike the second his grip loosens ever so slightly.

He loses his damn hanky. (In more ways than one.)

Seongwu helplessly watches his handkerchief curl through the air. It’s as if the wind is mocking him with the way it does a loop and another, dancing in tune to some kind of ugly makeshift choreography in the air.

He chases it down the hill and watches it wind down a narrow path. Seongwu follows it until he sees it land ever so gracefully atop the face of a figure lying against the trunk of an oak tree.

His first thought is - when does this sort of thing ever happen? How does the universe align in a way just so against all statistics and probabilities it happens to land exactly where it did?

“Don’t move!” Seongwu barks - but of course the sudden shout scares said sleeping? stranger and he bounds up to his feet causing the handkerchief to once again be thrown into the air until it gets caught on one of the branches.  

“Ah SHIT!” Seongwu yells in exasperation. He’s vaguely aware this isn’t the kind of attitude royals should display, but at this point that’s the least of his priorities. Houston, we have a problem.

“Well good morning to you too.” There’s a certain tranquility to the tone of his voice and for the briefest of moments it puts Seongwu at peace.

For half a second Seongwu had forgotten there was another person there with him and when he turns to look he sees a young boy around the same age as he is. The boy is tall and a little bit lanky, good-looking in a way that exudes grace, delicate features that soften the sharp angles of his jawline. He looks a little bit like a cat with the long ovals of his eyes, even his posture is sophisticated. Seongwu’s heart skips a beat because really, how could it not? It doesn’t matter though because after the millisecond it takes for these thoughts to flitter through Seongwu’s head, his mind brings him back to the fact that it was his fault no matter how pretty that Seongwu’s stupid piece of cloth was stuck a whole foot above his head.  

“It’s midday!” Seongwu snaps angrily, wanting laser beams to shoot out of his eyes as he bores a hole into the stranger’s face.

“Would you like me to get it back for you?” The handsome stranger offers, clearly stifling a smile with the way his eyes glint playfully.

Before Seongwu can answer, he’s climbing up the tree, one branch at a time until he reaches Seongwu’s handkerchief.

Seongwu’s beyond flustered as he runs sides to side like a wheelbarrow hoping to catch the boy should he fall. It’s quite the workout and Seongwu is not in the least pleased. He has half a mind to let him just fall and break all his bones.

With a soft thud, the boy lands perfectly balanced on his two feet as he hands Seongwu’s handkerchief back to him. For someone as clumsy as Seongwu, it irritates the heck out of him.

“Say thank you, it’s only polite of you to do so.” Says the boy. He sounds like Seongwu’s supervisor and he’s immediately put off at the thought.

“No, I don’t recall asking you to do that for me,” Seongwu crosses his arms, “and, it would have been on MY conscience that you died trying to get this back for me if you had fallen.” Seongwu protests weakly. People did say his stubbornness was one of his more standout qualities.

“Well”, says the boy triumphantly,  “I didn’t die did I? Besides, here it is. Safe and sound, both the handkerchief and I.”

Seongwu’s first impression is that he’s a little prissy. He learns later on that he is anything but.

Seongwu takes the handkerchief from the boy and stares at it for a few calculating seconds. “You’re right.” Seongwu sighs finally, “Thank you. After running so much chasing down that handkerchief I’m just - I’m tired.”

“Hi tired, my name’s Minhyun.” Minhyun says it matter of factly and Seongwu wants to rip all of his hair straight from the roots.

Seongwu groans and he decides that whilst he’s thankful, he needs to get away from this right this second before he explodes into tiny pieces of gooey matter. Dad jokes in this era? Not on his watch.

“No, I have to go, I’m sorry but I can’t deal with this -  not today!” Seongwu yells covering his ears with his hands before running off to class.  

What a peculiar boy.

°:.   *₊ ° .   ☆ ✮ °:.   *₊ ° . ° .•

There are two new kids in the class today and Seongwu is surprised to see Minhyun from earlier who had helped him retrieve his handkerchief. When he catches Seongwu’s gaze, he grins ever so slightly and Seongwu suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. Jisung gets them to introduce themselves and to talk a little bit about their hobbies.

“My name is Hwang Minhyun. I’m a page boy that’s been newly transferred to the palace because my Dad’s just moved back here from across the country to assume his role in court again. I suppose reading is my favorite thing to do, aside from equestrian. I also dabble in a bit of poetry on the side.”

“Kwon Minho,  I’ll only be here for a month so I don’t think introductions are necessary.”

The rest of the class go around in a circle introducing themselves to the new additions to their class.

There’s something about Minho that makes Seongwu uneasy. To his own knowledge, his supervisor had mentioned that a certain Duke Kwon from a neighboring kingdom would be visiting with his son for diplomatic purposes. He pays it no mind for now.

Class ends today on a positive note. He learns something about Minhyun that day. He learns, for lack of a better adjective that cannot even begin to encapsulate what Hwang Minhyun is, that he is wonderful in more ways than one. He’s clever in that he knew all the answers to everything Jisung spoke about today, and athletic enough, from how he scaled that tree to retrieve Seongwu’s handkerchief.

Seongwu’s about to go look for Minhyun and ask him how he knows so much about Aristotle until something stops him in his tracks.

“It’s sad, isn’t it? I’ve only been here a while and I’ve already gathered that your mom hated you, tried to ruin your life even! As a result, your dad hates you - I mean he can’t even look at you. That’s a laugh. Poor little prince, I get why you’re so good at everything - probably have something to prove.” Minho’s tone is leary, and it’s grimy in the way that Seongwu feels like he’s covered in dirt.

Seongwu’s beginning to understand why diplomatic negotiations were necessary with Minho’s kingdom if his attitude was anything to go by. It’s not like Seongwu has a temper and he’s never been one to get angry for no reason but this particular time it leaves him seeing red. Minho, like the little git he was, had picked the only topic Seongwu was sensitive about to mock. The desire to strangle Minho causes his hands to twitch, it’s probably written all over his face. He grabs at Minho’s shirt and yanks hard, a universal sign of aggression so their faces are only an inch from one another.

“Don’t test me.” Seongwu warns, “not unless you want to find out how metal tastes considering how good I am with weapons.”

At this point the rest of his classmates have formed a circle around them, coming up to watch the drama unfold, shocked to the core at the audacity of the boy who dared to provoke their prince, Little Jihoon cheers “fight fight fight fight!” from the sidelines but is quickly shushed by those around him.

“Relax Ong,” says Minho, noncommittal like he was inspecting a piece of dirt that had lodged itself onto the base of his sandals. “It’s supposed to be tongue-in-cheek.”

Seongwu is about to serve a knuckle sandwich express delivery to this table of 1 self-satisfied customer with a slimy smirk on his face when someone interrupts.

“No.” Comes a voice with a steady determination. “I don’t think so.”

Everyone turns to look at the source of the voice.

To Seongwu’s surprise, it’s Minhyun who speaks.

“I think you’re deliberately goading him with things you know will get a rise out of him and that’s rather rude of you. Perhaps to help with negotiations? Is that it? So your side has leverage against ours.” He pauses. “Seongwu, maybe you should let him go before it escalates into something you can’t take back.”

It’s a logical assumption and Seongwu hates that he didn’t think of it like that. He drops Minho to the ground with a thud. The shifty look of exposé on Minho’s face tells Seongwu Minhyun may have been correct.

Minho scoffs, loud and obnoxious in an attempt to hide his nerves. “And who the hell are you might I ask?”  

“Status wise? No one when compared to you. But really, if you’re going to be so obvious about your schemes you should’ve just been upfront about it.” Minhyun responds, calm and collected. “Run along before I expose you and what you said before the court. I can assure you it will be charged as a plot against the throne. You know better than anyone how important this trade deal is for your nation.”

Seongwu can tell Minho wants to retaliate, but he can’t because he too knows everything Minhyun’s said was the truth. All he can do is glare before he scrambles to get up to take his leave.  

“One more thing.” Comes Minhyun’s voice once again, “Seongwu doesn’t need your counterfeit condolences. When someone’s trying their hardest you say well done, not poor you. What they need are words of encouragement, don’t you think they’ve been pitied enough their whole life? They’re making do with their circumstances which I think speaks more truth about the strength of their character than anything else.”

Perhaps Minho would’ve had something else to retort back with in another life, but not in this one. With a grunt, he runs off until he disappears into a speck in the distance. Seeing this, the crowd too disperses.

The monologue hits Seongwu hard, and he’s for lack of a better word stunned. All his life people had been looking at him with those eyes, those eyes he was so tired of and here was a boy the same age as he who saw his efforts, who didn’t belittle how hard he was trying and it made his insides surge with a force of gratitude he didn’t know he possessed.

Minhyun picks at a piece of lint on his shawl, before beginning again to pick up the book that lay forgotten momentarily on his lap.

Seongwu walks up to Minhyun with a purpose, to thank him for helping him. But before he can say anything, Minhyun beats him to it.

“S’no problem, Tired.”

“Tired?”

“That’s your name isn’t it?”

“Are we still on that?” Seongwu scowls. “You seemed to have no problem remembering my name when you were telling Minho off!” Argues Seongwu, mock displeasure lacing his tone.

“Ah well, I like tired more.”

“You’re so annoying! Stop being a goober.”

“Goober? Be careful Tired, your true self is showing and it resembles a five year old.”

Seongwu huffs, puffing out his cheeks. Just a second ago he was about to go thank Minhyun but now he was feeling a whole lot less grateful. “I’ll have you know, I’m eleven.”

Minhyun chortles at that. “Aright, alright, don’t be upset! If it makes you feel better I’ll call you Seongwu. Is that better? Hi Seongwu. I’m Minhyun and I’m eleven too.” There’s a twinkle of mischief capering in his irises as he concedes, tempting Seongwu to want to find out more.  

It’s that moment he realises it’s conceited of him to have thought that he could read people like books, as if their stories were written on the fabric of their attire or the gaits in their steps. People aren’t that easy, they aren’t something you can unravel at a glance. Minhyun even at eleven is something of a enigma. The easy smile he wears veils something more complex. He’s a walking mystery and boy does Seongwu jump at the challenge to get to know someone as intriguing as he.

“Much.” Seongwu smiles for the first time in this irrevocably terrible day. In retrospect maybe it wasn’t so horrible after all.

From then on out he sees Minhyun a lot more in and around the castle. He learns that Minhyun’s father was a noble and used to be one of his father’s most trusted advisors before moving to the countryside after his wife died during childbirth to raise his son. He was back indefinitely due to the King’s summons. As a result, Minhyun was given his own room in the palace which coincidentally was not too far from Seongwu’s. Sometimes he wondered if the reason his father had summoned him back was because he wanted Seongwu to associate with people his own age. To maybe make friends. It kind of works.

In class, Seongwu sits next to Minhyun, poking him with the tip of his quill everytime he doesn’t know the answer to a question. Sometimes when Minhyun’s bored he goes to Seongwu’s room and they go horse riding together. Their in-betweens are coloured with pinks of heart-shaped smiles and blues of starry night skies. Seongwu’s a little bratty when he can’t have his way but Minhyun just lets him, spoils him really by bending to his will most of the time. Seongwu tells jokes to get Minhyun to laugh - which he does. He really likes Minhyun’s laugh. Soon enough he finds he’s spending most of his free time with Minhyun. Playful banter becomes part of their daily routine. Seongwu truly enjoys Minhyun’s company, he’s never had someone like this before.

One day it all comes to a head. Minhyun approaches him and gently taps him on the shoulder when he’s having a conversation with one of the other boys in their class.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Seongwu nods and follows Minhyun who leads him to a clearing just on the outskirts of the town.  

Minhyun’s hand disappears into his pocket, rummaging around till he produces a ring. The band is silver, nothing fancy, and it’s slightly chipped at the edges.

Seongwu squints at the shiny little thing, a sneaking suspicion that it’ll morph into a demon and bite his handsome face off. (One of his only redeeming qualities in his opinion.)

He takes a step back, then another.

And runs the opposite direction, as far as he can. He doesn’t know why he does it either. An impulse maybe, or is it because of his commitment issues? All he knows is he isn’t ready for marriage.

“Seongwu!” Minhyun snickers, chasing after Seongwu with his legs that are longer than Seongwu’s and reaching him in no time. It’s not a surprise though seeing as Seongwu doesn’t really have stamina at all.  

“Tired again?” A peal of laughter escapes through Minhyun’s lips.

Seongwu’s too busy panting to quip back, hands on his knees trying to relearn how to breathe.

“Here! This is for you.” Minhyun’s smile is big and wide, coupled with the way his eyes crinkle into half crescents, it’s all kinds of pretty. Seongwu is really annoyed.

“Uh...Minhyun...don’t you think this is moving a little too quick? I mean I haven’t even been properly introduced to your dad and I don’t have anything to gift you and really I’m only twelve...It’s a little young for marriage don’t you think?” Seongwu rambles on and on and he can’t stop for the life of him.

“Silly!” Minhyun cajoles, reaching out to knock at Seongwu’s temple, “It’s a friend-ship-ring.” He declares in the haughty way characteristic of preteens, making sure to enunciate every single syllable so there’s no chance Seongwu misses it.

“They’re supposed to symbolize forever, my aunt used to say it’s because there’s no end to it, it just goes on-and on-and on-”

Seongwu cuts Minhyun off, “We get it, on and on and on and on and on, am I right?”

Minhyun nods, eyes wide and true. The sincerity causes Seongwu to reel and he’s taken aback in more ways than one.

By nature Seongwu is suspicious, looking at his track record it was to be expected. It was true that they’d been spending a large amount of time with each other but there was never even any verbal confirmation of what they’d become and now Minhyun was trying for a physical talisman? It was safe before and Seongwu’s not so sure if he likes the direction this is going on. When he was younger, his supervisor used to force him to go to swimming lessons, it was alright at first, the stream was shallow and he could stand with his head above the water. Eventually, his teacher decided that he was ready to graduate to a lake nearby. He almost drowned in the murky depths of such a large body of water, opaque and dark where he was blind with no safety net. This was a little like that.

“Why are you being so kind to me?” Seongwu asks pointedly, his voice wavering in the slightest. He decides he doesn’t think he could handle if it was just another transient thing.

Minhyun shrugs. “You looked like you needed a friend.” He says it as if it’s a fact of life. So simple and easy to decipher. In a way it was, Seongwu had spent so long thinking that this was the life he was supposed to lead. He had grown used to the solitude, gotten used to relying on himself and only now had he come to realise that maybe what he wanted most in the world was companionship, someone to listen to his worries and not just answer with the same old stock responses.  

So, Seongwu gingerly takes the accessory from Minhyun’s palm that’s open flat and wide, a metaphor for his extension of friendship.

The cicadas are tittering, the only noise in the vast expanse of grass they’re currently standing on. Minhyun waits with bated breath, trying his best to suppress the knowing smile that’s slowly making its way onto his face.

Seongwu holds it up to the sky and watches the way the sunlight reflects off the tiny little ridges of the ring, watches the way the sparkles dance across the circumference and thinks this might just be the best gift he’s ever received. How could he not attach sentimental value to something so lovely?

He slips it onto his finger. It’s a little loose and Seongwu frowns, his brows furrowing as he looks up at Minhyun.

Minhyun chuckles, the sound rumbling low in his chest. “Don’t pout Seongwu, it’s not becoming on you. Your hands are going to get bigger, probably.”

“Hwang Minhyun, really accounting for everything.” mutters Seongwu, rolling his eyes playfully.

Minhyun holds up his own hand, brandishing it in front of Seongwu’s face as he uses his other to grab at Seongwu’s ring clad one, aligning their hands together. “We have matching ones now.”

The act is endearing but Seongwu refuses to admit it, he supposes the heat he feels at the tip of his ears speaks for itself.

“So, best friends forever?” Asks Minhyun, sticking his pinky finger out.

For a moment everything is ominously silent, dandelion seeds swirling around them mood making some poor excuse of ambiance whilst Seongwu contemplates the pros and cons of this situation that he’s unknowingly found himself in.

To let someone in is to make yourself susceptible to injury in the worst possible way. Hearts will be wrung and possibly even broken. For so long Seongwu’s thought that this was the legacy that he was meant to have. But he’s ready, he thinks, to believe he deserves a little bit more. To let someone in also means freedom in the sense that he no longer has to do it all on his own. He’d really like that.

He takes the plunge into newfound territory.

“Best friends.” Seongwu agrees, encircling his own pinky and all that it entails with Minhyun’s.

He hears Minhyun’s glee before anything else, bubbling up through his lips into the prettiest melody Seongwu’s ever heard.

“You can’t ever take it off you hear! You better not. Never ever!” Yells Minhyun jokingly, “If you do that’s the end of us! We’re going to be the bestest of friends forever. Nothing but death will tear us apart!”

In hindsight, the foreshadowing had been obvious. Like a self-fulfilling punchline to a play he’d never wanted to be a part of. The irony however, lies in the fact that he’d been cast as the main character long before his birth.

Their giggles fill the fields with nostalgia and the most cliched promises of forever in the many years that follow.

Minhyun who’s innately demure with a bit of a spitfire streak and Seongwu who pretends to be brazen when in actuality is the first to be wounded. In theory, the blatant dichotomy of their two characters shouldn’t be compatible, but who was the first to say it? Seongwu can’t recall, but it has something to do with the nature of magnetism. In any case, opposites attract. The pair seem to be living proof of this.  

Minhyun worms his way into Seongwu’s life like an infection, spreading like a wildfire until no part of him is untouched, breaking through every single one of his defenses in a way no one else has.

True to Seongwu’s promise, he never takes off the ring, and Minhyun? Well, he never leaves Seongwu’s side.

°:.   *₊ ° .   ☆ ✮ °:.   *₊ ° . ° .•

The area guards are gossiping again, loud and obnoxious just outside the prince’s quarters. Minhyun’s in Seongwu’s room, fiddling with some kind of wooden contraption to the side when he freezes at what’s being said, the object in his hands quickly forgotten and disposed of on the ground.

“We’re going to have to kill it, he can’t be tamed.”

“What? The horse? Bucephalus?”

“It’s gone out on a rampage, he’s torn into villagers’ homes and stampeded over their chickens and their cattle. He’s a safety hazard, he can’t be kept.”

Minhyun stills, he looks desperate, and the colors’ drained from his face. Seongwu notices this and worries at his lip, going to him and putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Hyun- what’s going on? Are you alright? Feeling sick?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. I’m just - Seongwu, they’re going to kill the horse.”

Seongwu furrows his brows, “the what?”

“He’s probably just scared; he doesn’t deserve that, why would they do something like that - horses, they’re meant to be loved and taken care of, they do so much for us and they’re so beautiful too why would anyone want to hurt them Seongwu I really, I can’t understand. He just needs some guidance that’s all, that’s all, to be given a chance.” It comes out quick and all in one breath and when Minhyun finishes, he sinks to the ground, knees hitting the ground softly before he begins to card his hands through his hair. He begins to panic, looking around at everything and everywhere but not actually seeing a single thing. His breathing intensifies, hard and labored until even that is a struggle, arms flailing about because he doesn’t know what to do with them.

Calm, collected Minhyun is freaking out and Seongwu has no idea what to do, but Minhyun has always been there for him whenever he needed him so Seongwu knows that he’ll figure something out.

Seongwu brings himself down so he’s level with Minhyun, “Tell me what you want to do, Hyun, you’re not fine, let’s see if we can solve it together.”

Minhyun sees this finally, sees him and chokes out a dry sob, “Seongwu, I don’t want them to kill him. He doesn’t deserve it.”

Seongwu pulls Minhyun into his side, tucking him in to his left side and running a soothing hand over his arm.

To an onlooker they probably look strange, two fourteen year old boys, one on the verge of crying and another whispering sweet nothings to try and comfort the other. But, that in essence is the very nature of their friendship. Above all else what they are built upon is a degree of trust and caring that far surpasses anything else. The base level of their relationship is that they are here for each other in times when no one else is - that they are able to tell each other things they wouldn’t tell another soul.

I’ll be your sponge! Tell me anything and everything that’s hurting you and I’ll absorb all the pain for you.

“Minhyun, Minhyun look at me, hey, hey look at me.” Seongwu coos, gentle hands resting on Minhyun’s flushed cheeks, his eyes are wide, pupils blown pooling with unshed tears and his lips are a blood red, wobbling every time he tries to speak.

Seongwu feels an odd sense of protectiveness, upset that something's made Minhyun feel this way. He wants to banish it, rid the world of anything that would ever cause his best friend any grief. They stay like that until Minhyun’s hiccups subside and he’s not shaking anymore. Nonetheless, Seongwu still keeps him in his arms, wanting to keep him safe should he begin to panic again.

“Minhyun, you want to tell me what’s so important about that particular horse?” Seongwu broaches the subject with a bit of trepidation, unsure if Minhyun is ready to answer.

He sighs, leaning further in to Seongwu as if he’s trying to draw comfort and Seongwu obliges, adjusting their position to accommodate.

“It’s not that particular horse Seongwu, I mean I guess I do know it, I’ve seen it at the stables here and there; I even rode it once and it was so kind, so obedient. Nothing like how they’re describing it. I’m just sad, you know how much I love horses. I think I’d be like this no matter what horse it was.”

Minhyun hides his face in Seongwu’s neck and Minhyun says the next sentence into his skin, “I’m being stupid, it’s just a horse. It’s fine don’t worry I’ll be ok.”

“No.” Seongwu says, pulling away so he can draw Minhyun up to look straight at him. “You’re not being stupid, don’t ever say that. You’re being empathetic, you’re caring and that’s one of my favorite things about you. We’re going to do something about it. If it bothers you it bothers me.”

The corner of Minhyun’s lips quirk upwards and he looks up at Seongwu, eyes puffy and rimmed with red yet still so captivatingly shiny. Seeing this Seongwu knows just what he has to do.

“I’ve decided. I’m gonna tame that horse.” Declares Seongwu in a tone of indignation, he’s going to make sure no one hurts it.

Minhyun on the contrary, has an entirely different expression from what Seongwu had expected.

“Seongwu? Are you kidding me that’s too dangerous didn’t you hear what the guards said?” His face has gone red as a pomegranate, and Seongwu begins to fear he might start panicking again. He supposes he’ll just have to convince Minhyun that it’ll be alright, that this time he just has to trust him. It will be easy, he knows he already does.

“I did! But I also heard what you said. You said he was kind and that he was probably just scared of something. If it’s between the guards and you, who do you think I’m going to trust?”

“Seongwu,” Minhyun breathes,“you can’t save them all.”

“You’re right, Hyun, I can’t. But I can save this one.”

“You’ve made up your mind haven’t you?”

Seongwu nods.

Minhyun resigns to an exhale, “Alright, if you’re sure. I’ll be right by your side then.”

“As you always are.”

Seongwu slams his door open and it hits the wall with a thunderous bang and walks up to the guards with Minhyun in tow.

“Take me to the horse.”

~

They’re a good kilometre away when Seongwu first hears Bucephalus’s neigh echoing throughout the area. Minhyun and him are both on horseback, having galloped the distance but have now begun to trot at a slower pace given the fact that they were nearing their target.

Seongwu hears the onlookers that live in and around the premises begin to gossip when they see them.

“He’s going to die, it’s over for him, like an amateur squirrel in the dead of winter that horse is going to decimate him and fling his cold, limp body all the way to China.”

“That’s a lovely narrative you’ve concocted.”

“Why, thank you my friend but it won’t be a narrative when it turns out to be the truth. The kid is 14 - what can he do if the biggest and the strongest knights were all beat down?”

“Hush, you two! Don’t let them hear you, they might skin you alive or worse, roast you over a spit till you’re a crisp chicken nugget for speaking ill of the crown!”

“I for one think he’s going to do it - haven’t you heard the rumors? He’s invincible! And frankly we should be hoping he succeeds for the sake of our livestock and our wellbeing.”

Seongwu stifles a laugh, it’s all quite amusing. He does enjoy chicken nuggets. But he doesn’t have time to mull over it, for Bucephalus appears from behind the foliage, a crazed look in his eyes as he charges towards the group. So elegant, so deadly, like a harbinger of destruction.

The villagers scatter, quickly barricading themselves in their homes. Minhyun and Seongwu look at each other, signaling the start of their plan while the rest of their search party stand back, allowing their prince to handle the situation.

The two of them head straight for Bucephalus, their own horses in tune with their movements, encircling the rogue horse in order to divert him to a clearing where there’s less people, for fear it get dangerous. Out of the corner of his eye, Seongwu notices that the horse seems spooked every time it catches sight of its own shadow, focusing more on trying to run the opposite way its shadow falls than anything else. It lurches forwards so it’s standing on its hind legs, kicking dirt into the air, but Seongwu doesn't so much as flinch.

When they deem it far enough Seongwu dismounts, keeping his eyes on Bucephalus’s, reaching a hand out steadily as a peace offering. It seems to calm the horse, having something to stare at that is. Seongwu inches closer and closer, keeping his breath even even as the horse kicks its hooves into the soft earth and lets out a loud exhale.

They smell fear, the stable manager had once said, you have to be someone they feel worthy of before they’ll concede.

Minhyun looks tense, holding the reins to his own horse so tight his knuckles turn white, ready to spring into action and scoop up Seongwu should Bucephalus decide to be hostile.

“Hey, hey, baby, it’s ok it’s gonna be alright.” Seongwu coos, grabbing onto the reins of the horse, he maneuvers the horse slowly, gently, all while speaking in a hushed tone. The baritone of his voice somehow soothes the animal and Bucephalus complies, hooves crunching against the gravel. Seongwu reaches out with a steady hand and places it atop the horse’s face to pet him before directing him just so he’s looking up at the sun.

“Pretty isn’t it, look at the sun, it’s shining just for you! You’re fine, you’re good, come on - it’s not scary at all. It’s just your shadow, it’s because of the sun. It won't hurt you.” Seongwu doesn’t expect Bucephalus to understand, but the horse neighs, letting out a whine before dropping his head down in a sign of submission.

“That’s right, you’re a smart boy, aren’t you, it’s just a shadow you don’t have to be scared - no one’s going to hurt you. I won’t let them.” Seongwu runs his hands through the horse’s mane, tangled with knots and matted with sweat. “Bucephalus, right? Such a pretty name. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” He reaches out into his messenger bag and pulls out an apple and feeds it to him, watching the horse devour the entirety of the fruit in all of thirty seconds.

“You were just hungry weren’t you? It’s alright, we’re gonna take care of you and make sure you get all the food you want.” Seongwu beams, he likes this horse. He thinks he’ll keep it, it’s got spirit.

“You did it Seongwu! That was amazing!” Shouts Minhyun looking radiant and exuding cheer. He dismounts before rushing up to Seongwu, enveloping him into a bone crushing hug as he congratulates him, before moving to pet Bucephalus himself.

Seongwu flushes, his insides turning warm and gooey.

When the two of them return back to the other soldiers with Seongwu riding atop of Bucephalus, they are stunned to say the least. One by one the villagers emerge from their homes, coming out to applaud, their grateful cheers of thanks all melding into loud screams.

He hears a villager make a casual remark but he doesn’t comment on it. “It’s a cursed horse. Recognises its ilk when it sees it I suppose.”

~

Back home at the palace even the King comes out to welcome his son. It’s a shock because Seongwu doesn’t get to see his father that often. He still seems to be carrying some sort of a burden as if it pains him to speak to his son, but when he claps his son on the back he says something that sends Seongwu reeling. “Look out across the horizon, one day this will all be yours. Maybe even far beyond that because my son, Macedonia is too little to contain the entirety of your worldly capabilities. You have made me proud. From afar, I’ve always been watching you. You saved many people today, you should be proud of yourself because I am definitely of you.”

His father’s grin is temperate and lacking a bit in warmth but still Seongwu feels like he’s just nosedived into a bath of steaming water with how giddy he feels all the way down to the tips of his toes. This was the parental validation he’d been searching for his entire life and it puts the most ridiculous of smiles on Seongwu’s face, yet what makes him the happiest, well and truly is the expression of relief that adorns Minhyun’s beautiful face, he looks at peace. Gone are the worries and the distress, the fear and the uncertainty - and it was Seongwu who caused that.

Seongwu can’t help but think he wants to make sure this is the expression Minhyun wears - forever. He’ll protect it as many times as it takes.

“Seongwu, thank you for always being on my side.” Minhyun calls a little later when they’ve retired to their rooms for the night.

“Silly Minhyun, there’s no place I’d rather be.”

°:.   *₊ ° .   ☆ ✮ °:.   *₊ ° . ° .•

Seongwu’s 16 when he’s allowed to take leadership of his first battle. Of course Minhyun is right there to experience it with him. He goes into it with expectations and comes out of it with feelings of loss so explicit he can’t even describe them.

He wins the battle of course, but he can’t help feeling like he’s lost the war. It’s not quite the victory he’d been hoping for. After all, aren’t you fighting for your people? For you men? The losses in this battle were minor when compared to the other side but they were still a good number. Seongwu feels the guilt seeping into his veins. He’d gotten away scott free with maybe only a cut or two but that was it. Some of his soldiers weren’t as lucky. He blames himself.

There’s a party in full swing down in the grand ballroom celebrating their victory no doubt, and Seongwu hears it from all the way on his balcony. He can’t bring himself to be down there, the thought of festivities after all this makes him sick. He leans on the stone railings and fiddles with his ring, a habit he’s picked up when he’s anxious or deep in thought.

He looks up into the night sky and at the trees that are dotted in and around the garden below. He wonders if the stars are as finite as human beings, or if they’ll live forever and ever in their set echelons in space. Do they have loved ones? Can they die - and if they can - is it stardust that they become? Do the stars have ambition? Perhaps they challenge one another in a bid to climb as high as possible - a competition to see who gets to exist in the prettiest spot in the sky? Perhaps right next to the glowing moon, angelic in the way it casts a faint glow on the universe. How great it’d be to be a star, Seongwu thinks, shining so prettily up there in the sky. How great it’d be to be a star, where death seems like such a distant thing and your only responsibility is how bright you decide to shine.

He wonders why his life seems to be so permeated by death and loss. The soldiers on the battlefield, the crimson of their patriotism that leaks into the earth, all of it - he hates it. He wants to see silver, to see stardust in its place. He didn’t want this for his men, he wanted them to come home to their families and their loved ones. The turmoil, the angst - he hated it all, he just wanted them to be safe but alas now that was impossible. 

Seongwu’s so lost in his thoughts he doesn’t hear the door to the balcony open, a soft click before he feels a warmth from a body that approaches his side.

Seongwu doesn’t even have to look, he knows who it is.

“Seongwu? Are you alright?” Minhyun asks, his brows are furrowed and he’s sporting a grimace, his normally neat hair unkempt and tousled.

“I’ve seen better days.” Seongwu replies noncommittally and continues to stare far off into the horizon. “I just,” his voice breaks due to a surge in emotion, “can’t help but think I should’ve led them better, maybe if I did they wouldn’t be dead. I’ve been up the last two nights trying to remember all their names so at least even those that didn’t have family or loved ones will have someone to mourn them - to remember them.” He chokes up near the end, but he feels a warm hand on his back, drawing comforting circles, coaxing him to continue. “I just can’t help but feel like it’s all my fault that they died - Minhyun, I feel like I killed them.”

“Hey! Seongwu, listen to me! Listen to me.” Minhyun’s voice pulls him out of his trance lulling him back into reality. He grabs at Seongwu’s face, holding them in his palm steadily, forcing him to look him straight in the eyes so the sincerity is more evident than ever.

“It’s not your fault. You tried your best. Your men love you, they went into this willingly because they knew they were doing it for the greater good of the kingdom. You planned it all so well Seongwu, but in war? Losses are inevitable. You are noble and good and true and I know you want to save the world, but remember what I said before? You can’t save them all, Seongwu. No matter how powerful, for some it’s just their time to go and you must let them. That is the way of the world, it is not because of you, it is just how it’s meant to be.”

Seongwu doesn't speak for a short while and Minhyun takes this opportunity to open up a little first aid kit and pull out a cotton ball before soaking it in some sterilization liquid, and beginning to dab at the open cut on Seongwu’s cheek. He winces at the sting but nonetheless allows Minhyun to continue, before he finishes up by applying some thin dressing and a bandage. 

“You are not the problem, alright?’ Minhyun continues to murmur soothingly when he’s put everything away, placing his hands on his shoulder, he presses a soft kiss to Seongwu’s temple and Seongwu goes boneless in his hold.

“You are a good man, they knew that. I know that. So please, don’t speak so ill of yourself, you are already doing the best you possibly can. I believe in you, and you should too. Macedonia needs you, not just as the future King, but as a leader who knows how to pick his battles for the greater good of the people.”

Seongwu doesn’t know what to say, but he knows Minhyun is right yet again and for the thousandth time he wonders what he’d do without him. He’s probably be lost somewhere in the depths of his own mind, somewhere dark, unreachable and cut off from the world where the self deprecation just eats away at his soul.

“Hyun, I’m so sorry I must look so weak to you.” Seongwu sniffles, fighting so that his tears don’t fall. He fails anyway and Minhyun ever so gently brushes it away with the soft pads of his thumbs before smiling at Seongwu so tenderly, his heart swells with to the brim with affection for this best friend.

“Weak? Never Seongwu. It takes a certain character, the strongest one to admit to these sort of feelings, to be willing to lower yourself from the pedestal everyone’s put you on since the beginning. You are one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. Please don’t ever forget that.”

And so Seongwu doesn’t. He goes into battles from then on fearlessly with Minhyun’s words ringing in in his head and wins every single one. He mourns the losses of his men but rather than retreat into himself with guilt, he focuses on celebrating their life instead. It’s what every single one of them deserve. He learns this from Minhyun, as he learns most things.

°:.   *₊ ° .   ☆ ✮ °:.   *₊ ° . ° .•

Prince Seongwu’s 18  and he’s really grown into himself. His body is lean and agile, a perfect instrument for battle. His self confidence improves as well, he’s more sure of himself. Ready to take on whatever challenges life throws at him (or so he thinks) with the determination to see it through. But, on the other hand, with adulthood comes complexities afresh, the introduction of hormones and an avalanche of newfound feelings he certainly did not ask for do not make for good concoctions when it comes to the weak hearted. Which, undoubtedly, matches his description to a T.

Over the years Minhyun shoots up like bamboo and grows even more handsome with time, much like fine wine. By 18 he really is a force to be reckoned with. His skin is a translucent milky white and his cheekbones are high and luxurious. Seongwu reckons it’s cut so straight if he were a tiny dwarf he could probably set up a little house at the top. His lips are full, a plump cherry red and when Minhyun smiles his teeth shine so bright they’re whiter than the most valuable of pearls. A perfectly disheveled mess of bangs falls over thick, dark eyelashes and he really is by definition, a priori the standard of beauty in all the land. Seongwu would be blind to not realise this.

The two are just as close as ever, having been through the ups and downs of adolescence amongst other things, i.e. leading armies to conquer new lands and his subjects as a prince but well, he supposes that may not be the most quintessential of experiences. But they’ve managed to survive scenarios involving life and death together so that must count for something.  

Along the way, something’s shifted, Seongwu can feel it and by all accounts he’s pretty sure Minhyun does as well. It’s not exactly tangible, but neither is it completely undetectable. It’s the small things like being hyper aware of each other’s presence. It’s the constant inevitability that they provide one another - the idea that without fail, wherever they may be, they are constantly in each other’s orbit.

It’s the sacrifices they make for each other, like the time Seongwu was swamped in paperwork and Minhyun skipped out on his only opportunity to get some free horse riding sessions in months just to help him out because he hated the thought of Seongwu having to lose sleep. It’s the lingering touches and the constant desire to be right next to each other, it’s the small smiles only they share from inside jokes and the hours on end they spend laughing till their stomachs hurt. It’s the way Seongwu begins to secretly appreciate the dimples at the small of Minhyun’s back and firmness of his arms when they go swimming at the lake, or the way Seongwu catches himself staring at Minhyun’s lips for a second too long. It’s the connection between them he supposes, that’s matured and been honed to the point where what they have feels like something stronger than the toughest of steel.

“I’ll see you in two hours?” Asks Minhyun, reaching out to hand Seongwu a small scroll.

“Looking forward to it.” comes Seongwu’s airy response, accidentally brushing Minhyun’s fingers with his own and ignoring the little pinpricks of electricity he feels.

“So am I.” Minhyun’s still holding onto the piece of parchment, the two of their hands now almost touching but not quite.

They stare at each other, neither willing to yield first. 

“Good.” Seongwu inches further as nonchalantly as possible, his smile growing wider and wider as he does so.

“Good.” Minhyun holds on to the scroll a little longer than necessary. Is that a pout Seongwu sees when Minhyun lets go? He rubs the back of his neck.

What Seongwu fails to account for though, is the fact that Jisung, an audience of one, is in the same room, and had witnessed the entirety of the exchange.

Once Minhyun is out of earshot, Jisung begins clapping like a demonic seal, his normally cherubic smile twisting into a smirk. “The sexual tension is palpable. Stop lying to yourselves, Ong.”

“Whomst?” Seongwu questions, shocked that this was the moment they were having this conversation. He had been expecting it with Jisung being as perceptive as he was, but as with most things, even when you think you’re ready you never really are. “I don’t know a sexual tension. We are friends. Must I spell it out for you?”

“Sure, Ong; and I hold the keys to the universe.”

“You might well actually, oh Yoon-the-Wise.” Says Seongwu, busting out the spirit fingers in an attempt to channel all the cheer his gloomy self could possibly conjure up for the sake of following through with the theatrics he loves so much.

“Just so you know, since I know you’re not one for court gossip. Everyone thinks you should get together, and honestly as your advisor/teacher/sensei/supreme commander and chief/someone who’s many rungs above you when it comes to every single category (jokes) , I’m suggesting and or commanding that you listen to your people. It’s what good rulers do.”

“I’m disappointed!” Cries Seongwu, squeezing out every last drop of sarcasm his lanky frame seems to contain, “You of all people should know my faux edginess is one of my most endearing qualities and conforming to the status quo would affirm that I am indeed just another run of the mill, predictable, random citizen. Of course you ought to disregard my AdOngnis like looks before you could so much as imply that I were simply just another random citizen - but after doing so, all I would have left is my spontaneity and as you know being a brick is not how I’d like to go down in history."

“I see now why you only have one friend if this is what you sprout on a day to day basis. If he puts up with this he’s definitely a keeper.”

“I’m appalled at your insinuations. The guards always enjoy being around me.” Seongwu narrows his eyes, hoping to come across as more intimidating than he actually is.

Jisung snorts unattractively, some Frankenstein hybrid of a granddad choking on a raisin and a dog with pollen allergies. “Like I said, proving my point. What’s with the big words? Trying to make it seem like it’s not completely hollow in there?” Jisung jokes, tapping lightly at his head. “The guards are forced to be with you, their job is essentially to be with you 24/7, they couldn’t very well guard you if they weren’t with you now could they?”

He has a point. Seongwu rolls his eyes, “I am rubber you are glue, whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you!” Seongwu sticks his tongue out aware that he’s acting like a child who doesn’t have an argument (he doesn’t).

“Whatever you say, pretty boy. But, just think about it, why don’t you? It’s worth considering. The people seem to like him just as much as they do you, and wouldn’t it be better to have someone you trust rule at your side? As opposed to having to divvy up your kingdom from an arranged marriage? It’s just politics my friend. But I suppose 18 is too young. You’re only just on the cusp of adulthood. You’ve got all the time in the world to think about it.”

“Jisung,” Seongwu sighs, “he doesn’t like me like that. We’re just friends. Every merely suggesting anything else might just ruin what we have.”

“You might think that, everyone does until they take the leap.”

“Have fun off frolicking with Mr. tall, dark and handsome.” Says Jisung cheekily, aiming little finger guns at him and throwing in a little wink. It’s all teasing, good fun and bants.

“We’re not frolicking!” Seongwu yells to a retreating Jisung, who cleverly scurries away before he incurs any of the prince’s real wrath.

~

They’re taking a stroll together in the fields with their horses in tow, pulling them along as they simply enjoy each other’s company. Their horses at some point seemed to have found a particularly more abundant patch of grass where they made themselves comfortable and were reluctant to leave. The pair let them be, tying their reins to an oak tree nearby before deciding to continue a little farther down the path on their own.

As much as the two, for all intents and purposes were adults by law and by royal decree, they still seemed to act like children. Not too far from where they were currently standing, Seongwu sees a faint glimmer, allowing him to ascertain that there was indeed a body of water nearby.

“Race you to the clearing by the lake!” Shouts Seongwu with a cheeky glint in his eye, dashing towards the finish line without giving Minhyun any time to react.

In retrospect, this may not have been the best decision for Seongwu. For one, Minhyun was inarguably more athletic than Seongwu, and second of all he had much more stamina than the likes of Seongwu. But what Seongwu has you see, is misplaced arrogance that he prides himself on. He pushes forward and low and behold he can see the end point, metaphorical checkered flag waving as he approaches it half a sprint at a time. He’s almost there, he can taste victory - two more seconds and he’ll have reached it. Alas he does not, well, not on his own at least.

Minhyun lunges forward, launching his body straight at Seongwu before the two of them end up in a pile on the grass. They roll around a bit, wrestling for dominance before it’s Minhyun who ends up on top.

“Guess I win!” Minhyun yells to no one in particular, pumping his fists in the air while Seongwu only grumbles to himself, having been pinned to the floor with Minhyun straddling him, his thighs enclosed around Seongwu’s chest whilst the two of them are engaged in a (one-sided) battle of strength.

“What do I get for winning?” Minhyun asks, triumphant in tone. He taps his chin in contemplation before he lights up with an idea. “Say, Minhyun is the most handsome man in the world!”

Seongwu rolls his eyes at the ridiculousness and juts out his lip as he pouts. “No.”

“Say it!”

“No because I am the most handsome man in the world.”

“I’m not letting you get up, you’ll never defeat my thighs of steel.”

“I’m gonna shove you off!”

“Try it Seongwu! You think you’ll be able to with your tiny ineffectual fists? I think not! Say it! Say it! Minhyun is the MOST handsome person in the whole wide world. Mr snotty nosed prince Ong Seongwu could only wish to be a fraction of as beautiful, as graceful, as elegant as charming as clever as-”

“You mean as conceited as - “ Seongwu counters, struggling in Minhyun’s hold.

“Take that back right now! You forget what position we’re in!” Minhyun’s thighs tighten against Seongwu’s chest squeezing and squeezing until Seongwu’s sure he’s cracked a rib.

“MINHYUN!” Seongwu whines, “My tailbone hurts, you’re...so...heavy!” Seongwu pants, “I can’t breathe.” It’s a ploy. He exaggerates his laboured breathing (though some of it is real as we’ve established earlier due to his lack of stamina.) Either way Seongwu knows that Minhyun will relent, his weakness has always been that he’s way too soft at heart.

“Seongwu? Seongwu?” Minhyun questions all panicked and flustered, “Are you alright? I’m sorry.” He relents a little bit, thighs loosening around Seongwu and Seongwu jumps at the opportunity to turn things around. Striking with a a counter attack until this time, he’s the one on top with Minhyun now lying dazed with his back against the floor.

“Ha!” Seongwu chortles, “Never let your guard down. That’s rule number one in the art of war.”

“I haven’t”, Minhyun responds, “My dear Seongwu, you underestimate me.” He reaches up to tickle Seongwu causing him to double over, with Minhyun once again atop Seongwu.

“You my friend are the one who’s let their guard down.” Minhyun gloats, leaning down so his obnoxiously smug grin is all up in Seongwu’s peripheral. Damn he’s handsome. Bad thought bad thoughts shoo, shoo, he’s the enemy right now!

The closer he gets though, the more intense the scene seems to become. That’s the thing about their relationship. One second it’s carefree and playfully, two best friends giggling over stupid things and wrestling in the dirt. The next it’s tinged with something that borderlines the edge of sinful, hazy eyes and wanton touches. It’s how quickly everything can shift in the blink of an eye and that’s the true danger in whatever it is that’s become of their relationship.

There’s something so serene about the setting behind Minhyun. Upon first glance it looks the splitting image of an oil painting - the sun is hanging low surrounded by pomegranate reds and tangerine oranges that decorate the skyline. There’s a dash of purple, a dash of white and a dash of pink; a myriad of colors swimming in a beautiful July sunset.

He has trouble believing that this kind of perfection exists. But the wind is real, carding through the strands of his hair like a gentle caress. He thinks he’d like to keep this moment forever, record it like a snapshot perhaps even tattoo it onto his skin- he wonders if those things will ever exist in the future.

He watches Minhyun’s eyes, a liquid onyx trail every inch of his skin. He feels exposed under the scrutiny, the hairs on his forearms called into attention, standing up straight as he begins to realise the precarious situation that he’s found himself in.

The attraction is undeniable, proven in the way Minhyun inches lower until their noses are brushing, even when he knows that they shouldn’t.

“Seongwu,” Minhyun croons, his voice sultry and low clearly feeling it too, “are you going to say it?” and Seongwu can’t help but keel upwards and oblige, there’s something so captivating about Minhyun when he gets like this and really he can’t stay away - he wouldn’t want to.

“You’re conceited, and demanding, and rude and -” He whispers it, giggles a little bit as he does and feels the warm intermingling of their breath. He loses his train of thought and suddenly he’s so aware of Minhyun on top of him, muscled legs wrapped so perfectly around his torso, strong arms pinning his to the grass. The scant inches between their lips suddenly seem longer than a mile. He sees the details on Minhyun’s face, every perfectly placed freckle so tiny and unassuming you’d never see it unless you were this close, it’s like he’s seeing him in a new light, he’s really enjoying this.

But he’s not finished yet, and with a final flourish he breathes the words he’d been refusing to say so delicately into the universe even though if he could it’d be the only thing he’d ever say, “but, you’re the most beautiful at least to me.” and he supposes that’s the final push needed to tip Minhyun over the edge because he surges forward and covers Seongwu’s lips in his.

It’s magic really, and Seongwu’s never been one to believe in fairytales. Seongwu kisses him back, clumsy with his hands whilst Minhyun’s hold is sure and firm. For a second Seongwu fears he’s not doing it well, but when he draws a deep guttural sound from Minhyun’s throat, he knows that he’s doing perfect. Their kiss is reminiscent of something delicious and fragrant, like honey and roses, strawberries and cream. Except, this was even more addictive.

He’d imagined it to be lackluster, reckons the poets went off a little too much about it. They hadn’t.

But why he questions for the briefest of moments does he feel so guilty for doing something that seems so right?

When they pull apart, they’re both out of breath, panting so heavily they’re drinking each other’s air. Seongwu sees a ladybug fly between the two of their faces. The vibrant red is enough to bring him back from whatever kiss induced fog he’d fallen under.

They’re staring at each other and Seongwu thinks it’s impossible to read the expression that’s currently on Minhyun’s face. You could cut the tension with a butter knife.

The reality of what he’s done hits him with the bruising slap of ice cold water. He shouldn’t have, his insides are singing and singeing, a state of confusion at the uncertainty of how they should be reacting.  

“Um, We should, I-I should go.” Seongwu sounds panicked, he gets up, speedily runs towards Bucephalus and gallops at the speed of light all the way back to the palace and barricades himself in his room. He doesn’t look back. Minhyun doesn’t come look for him either.

They pretend it never happened. He locks it up in a box and keeps it in a dark dusty corner in the back of his mind. This isn’t what their relationship is, and he won’t let it come to this. What if he ruins it all? What if it goes badly and they never talk again? No, he’d rather have them be safe. Safe meant he’d still have Minhyun by his side, though it may not be in the way he wanted it. He doesn't think he could do without him at all. He should’ve listened to Jisung.

°:.   *₊ ° .   ☆ ✮ °:.   *₊ ° . ° .•

Dreams bring him back memories, of course it picks this particular one.

“Lao Tzu!” Jisung says, “Can anyone remember what he said?”

Seongwu’s hand shoots up, straight as an arrow. “Being loved gives you strength, but loving gives you courage.”

He remembers meeting Minhyun’s eye across the room. How his lips are slightly parted and he’s brunched the fabric of his garments tightly in his fists.

What a reckless kind of courage indeed.

°:.   *₊ ° .   ☆ ✮ °:.   *₊ ° . ° .•

Minhyun doesn’t talk to him for a bit afterwards. Seongwu’s stubbornness refuses to allow him to go to Minhyun first.

That is, until he sees a cockroach in his room. He screams so loud the guards rush into the room just in time to see their prince dashing out of the room down the corridor and all the way to a certain someone’s room to seek refuge from nature’s abominations.

He raps on the wooden door with his knuckles, or some would say, impatiently pounds on the door until he hears a shuffling on the other side and the door swings open to reveal Minhyun, already in his night clothes looking slightly irritated at the intrusion so late into the night.

But, as soon as he registers who it is, his mouth opens and rounds into the prettiest little “o” shape, and he blinks once then twice, clearly stunned at the sight before him.

“Seongwu?” Minhyun squints into the hallway, the only light a gentle luminescence from the candles lined down the walls.

“Minhyun, I saw a flying cockroach in my room just now and you know how people always say if you find 1, you’ll find 10 and I don’t think I could cope with that, you know how I am, I wouldn’t be able to survive under those conditions. Even just thinking about it I’m imagining hairy little legs with long crispy antennas wiggling in front of my face when I’m asleep at night.” Seongwu rushes out all in one breath. He takes another.

“Could I…...Could I stay with you tonight?” Seongwu asks, peeking up from his eyelashes, hiding half his body behind the door so only his head is visible.

“Seongwu,” Minhyun lets out an exasperated sigh, “you have a billion guest rooms you could easily find another.”

“I could, but then you wouldn’t be there and well….I’ve missed you.” and Seongwu’s eyes go wide because truthfully he can’t really believe he’s said that either.

A hundred thousand emotions cross Minhyun’s face and he comes out of a little disoriented, a little shocked.

“Yeah,” says Minhyun and the mood of the room slowly grows somber, “I’ve missed you too.” He smiles genuinely, his voice is soft and muted.

It’s quiet for a moment.

“So?” Seongwu begins again instead to try and diffuse the awkwardness in the room, “You’re letting me take the bed?”

Minhyun laughs, and it feels like a lifetime since he’d last heard it, “In your dreams Seongwu. You can take the armchair.” Says Minhyun as he juts his arm out to a ratty looking couch that looks as if it hasn’t been cleaned in eons.

“But Minhyunnie! I’m the prince,” Seongwu half whines half pouts, “I’ve lived in the lap of luxury my whole life! How could you possibly expect yours truly, his highness twinkle toes survive the night on an armchair? God forbid I get a crick in my neck? Who will compensate me? My body’s worth quite a lot don’t you know? Not quite nearly as much as my face but you get the picture.”

Minhyun stands with his hands on his hip, and with another seasoned roll of his eyes, “ Prince Charming (satirical, Seongwu doesn’t doubt) would do well experiencing for once how regular folk live their life. I can assure you it’s a more common occurrence to fall asleep in an armchair than you might think. I’ve done it myself and it’s truly quite comfortable.”  

“How about we compromise since I’m such a fair and just prince - soon to be King one day. I’m all for equality; so,” Seongwu claps his hands together as if he’s found a fix it, perhaps he has, but it remains a fact he suggests it without fully understanding the possible implications, “we share the bed?”  

~

He stretches his leg out to its full length before wheedling it onto Minhyun’s side of the bed and wrapping it around his leg.

“Seongwu! Your feet are cold! Stop being so clingy.” Minhyun chides without bite.

“You love it. Should be used to it by now.” Seongwu mumbles in short sentences, snuggling even closer to Minhyun. This is fine, it’s what they used to do when they were younger at sleepovers. His eyes are already droopy with tiredness.

Sometime while he’s still in limbo between the realms of sleep and reality, he hears something he doesn’t quite remember in the morning. Maybe he dreams it.

“Ong Seongwu," It's a whisper, "what are you doing to me?’

At some point in the night, he briefly recalls a barely there brushing of lips, light and feathery. But, maybe he doesn’t.

He realizes three things that night.

1. Minhyun gets cold easily.
2. Minhyun hogs the blankets.
3. Seongwu doesn’t mind. In fact, he lets him do as he pleases.

He wakes up in the morning when the tangerine hues peek through the silken curtains just barely touching the bedpost. He knows whatever fluttery feeling it is that’s blooming inside of him cannot come to be, a gut instinct that something is wrong.

He gets up and slips out of the room, taking with him the fragments of his heart, barely holding on as he desperately tries to piece it back together with tape and glue, one piece at a time. He feels cold all over - perhaps his body’s way of trying to extinguish whatever ember the night had relit within him.

It’s a failed endeavor. Maybe it’s because he never had someone to warn him. Trying to fix something that’s broken? You might just well cut yourself on the pieces.

°:.   *₊ ° .   ☆ ✮ °:.   *₊ ° . ° .•

The year Seongwu turns twenty is when his whole world comes crashing down. Even the rubble shifts into something unrecognizable. Chaos ensues, illusions are shattered, bridges burned and responsibility that far surpasses his capacity is thrust upon him.

It starts with his father’s assassination.

He’s away in Greece the time it happens, leading another battalion conquering new lands.

It’s raining again, and as Seongwu feels the raindrops’ harsh assault he thinks this might just be the worst kind of pathetic fallacy. The universe needs to come up with more creative ways to tell him he’s reached another turning point in his life. He feels the loss, he supposes, but they’d never built a familial bond strong enough for it to go beyond a superficial kind of mourning. At the end of the day he was still his father though, and that counted for something. Regardless of whatever their relationship had been, he had been a good ruler and the thought that something like this had happened was still a shock to Seongwu.

He comes home immediately and Minhyun meets him at the gate, eyes conveying a sense of solidarity, squeezing his hand as a small comfort in this time of confusion. But, the gravitas of the situation doesn’t hit him until he opens the door to the throne room and sees the panicked fervor in everyone’s eyes. He doesn’t fully comprehend what it means until the room goes quiet at his arrival. Dukes, Lords, Bishops all scrambling to bow at his feet. Some were reluctant, and blatantly refused, choosing instead to stand with their backs to the walls and their noses turned up.

His coronation is rushed, done hastily by the high priest in the throne room with only a small assortment of the court in attendance. He doesn’t have time to process what’s happened and within the hour he’d become King. Truthfully he doesn’t know what it means to have the weight of a nation on his shoulders and he knows for a fact that this wasn’t something he was ready for yet.

~

In the midst of all the well wishes, a particularly more vocal member of the court, Lord Jeong, pushes past the crowd till he gets to the front, and stands right in front of Seongwu. He looks hostile, expression a picture of something akin to pure disgust. Lord Jeong all but spits, “You should relinquish the crown to someone more deserving. Do you really think you’ll make an adequate king? You never will. Your mother cursed you, I was there when she did it.”

The crowd gasps, shocked that someone’s spoken in this manner to their new king, but above all else, they’re shocked that he dared to bring up the topic of the old queen. The late King had outlawed it. Lord Jeong doesn’t seem to care for the rules though. He continues on.  

“You want to hear the exact words she said? The deal she made in exchange for your conception? The reason why your father couldn’t face you? The reason why your people will never accept you? It’s because they can never love you.” His face twists into something sardonic, a mangled upper lip curling into something sinister to reveal his canines.

Seongwu feels a chill run down his spine.

“I saw her. Hera came down in a flurry, golden sparks blazing atop an open fire, her exact words “He will be successful, but every single person the prince loves will leave him. It will all be temporary.” She asked your mother if she agreed.”  

‘And what did she say? “Yes Hera. Anything, just please. Give me a baby boy. Give me a son.”’ Lord Jeong mocks her in a high pitched voice, clammy little dinosaur hands twitching up and down to emphasize his point.

“Despicable. I for one would never do that to my child. How can we expect someone that comes from that woman to be a good ruler. How can we trust him? What if he betrays us for what he wants?”

The entire situation isn’t something Seongwu could’ve prepared for in all twenty years of his life. He doesn’t know how to feel. He’s angry, sad, helpless and confused all in one. Enraged that someone would speak ill of his mother, his own flesh and blood. But at the same time he can’t help but feel like what he’d just been told had put a reason to the unease he’d always felt. It takes a second but the full effects of the devastation finally sink in and Seongwu steps back, almost losing his footing as he takes in this newfound information.

He thinks he’d very much like to go back to having not known a single thing. He looks to Minhyun, as he does whenever he’s at a loss for what to do and sees the worry that’s written all over his features.

His blood runs cold. He doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t know how to deal with what’s been suddenly thrust upon him. His mind flashes back to all the scenarios he’d never had an answer to, why his father had always looked so weary, why he’d felt guilt when it came to Minhyun and he comes to the conclusion that all this could only have happened to him because he didn’t deserve the happiness, all because of this stupid curse.

He tastes iron in his mouth, and when he touches his fingers to his lips, he sees that he’s unconsciously chewed so hard on his lip he’s drawn blood. And so before he breaks down in front of everyone, he leaves, does what he’s best at - runs away.

“How dare you!” he hears Jisung shout at Lord Jeong as he does, loud and imposing before he commands the guards to eject him from the premises.

~

Seongwu locks himself inside his room for the rest of the day, hides himself in his covers in an attempt to escape all his troubles, but at around eleven there’s a faint tapping on his door.

“Seongwu?” Calls Jisung, a little wary, “Can I come in?” His head peeks in.

“I’m coming in!” He declares when he gets no response.

Jisung approaches the bed before he takes a seat at the foot of it.

“Seongwu,” Jisung coos as he reaches out to place his hand on the mound that is Seongwu underneath the blankets, “How are you holding up? We’ve removed Lord Jeong from the court for his lack of professionalism.”

Seongwu ignores what Jisung's just said and asks instead, straight to the point, “Did you know?” Seongwu just wants to know, he won’t hold Jisung to it.

He sighs, “I knew because it was the first thing your Father said to me when he asked if you could join my classes.”

“You never told me.” There’s no accusation in the way he says it, just a small bit of resignation.

“Are you mad?”

“No, I just need some time to process it. Think about what to do next.” Replies Seongwu, he’s still hiding his face underneath the blankets. Seongwu pauses before continuing again, “Can I ask you why you never told me?”

“I never thought it was necessary. I don’t believe in those sorts of things. Destiny is what you make of it my sweet Seongwu. It can only play so big of a role if you let it. Your decisions are what define the course your life takes. Don’t let these myths weigh you down. Honestly Ong, don’t think too much about this. I know how you get, but this isn’t the kind of thing you should be worrying about. You are so remarkable at all that you do, and I wanted you to realise your true potential instead of getting bogged down by fairytales of curses.”

“It might be so, but it’s one of the gods, Jisung, I just can’t take that risk. Not with the people that I love. I need some distance. I can’t be the reason they get hurt.” He sniffles, but if Jisung hears it he doesn’t comment on it. “Jisung, could you maybe leave me alone? I’m still trying to come to terms with it myself. I will be fine, don’t worry. I just need some time to sort it all out. Think about what to do now.” He says it with less conviction than he means to.

~

It’s funny how Seongwu doesn’t cry until a couple hours later. He’s sitting on the palace steps when Minhyun sees him and comes to the bottom of the stairs, pulling him into his side to let Seongwu’s head rest on his shoulders.

It reminds him of the time with Bucephalus except this time its him crying and neither him nor Minhyun had a solution. It wasn’t something he could make go away with some simple coercion - the Gods weren’t that easy.

“Darling, It’s gonna be okay”, Minhyun murmurs. 'It doesn’t matter, those that love you, that truly love you? They wouldn’t leave you, never ever by choice.” his voice softens until it’s a little less than a whisper so it’s as if he’s speaking to himself, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Seongwu cries into his shoulder, his tears soaking through the thin fabric of Minhyun’s shirt. He makes no inclination to move. He inhales long and hard, taking in scents of apple nut and cinnamon that seem to define Minhyun, trying to commit it to memory one last time. “Minhyun, Hyun, I’m scared.”

“I know baby, so I am, but we’ll find a way. We always have.”

We?

The word spooks him, reminds him of what he’s just learnt.

“No.” Seongwu recoils with a speed he didn’t know he possessed, springing apart from Minhyun’s arms, “No, I can’t do that to you- I won’t, I have to go.”

“I have to go.” Seongwu echoes, quickly wiping his tears away with his sleeve before getting up to leave the room. He doesn’t look back.

In his wake he doesn’t hear the heart that breaks right behind him - his own is too loud.  

It’s always him doing it to Minhyun, always him messing things up, destroying whatever progress they’d made. Always him being horrible, leading him on and crushing whatever semblance of happiness they’d built together until it turns into fine dust, scattering it to the four corners of the universe. Minhyun who was good and true, who took him back every single time he messed up, he deserved better - especially when Seongwu couldn’t give him what he wanted.

He doesn’t have time for idyllic fantasies of lives that will never be his or to chase after a falling star so far out of his reach.

Perhaps the saddest thing was that though he may not have been allowed happiness, he had been allowed to keep the ability to hope, to wish, to want, maybe even to crave.  

In a sense maybe that was the cruelest clause of them all.

°:.   *₊ ° .   ☆ ✮ °:.   *₊ ° . ° .•

He goes to war. He throws himself into his work and he wins. He focuses on carving out the start of a beautiful legacy for his people - to defy all odds and become a king worthy of admiration. He doesn’t let himself think about Minhyun. What follows are months of ignoring, months of curt responses and stony facial expressions. He feels a sharp, stabbing pain in his chest every time he sees the look Minhyun’s begun to wear, one of resigned acceptance, one that veils the hurt. If only he were a better actor maybe Seongwu wouldn’t feel like his own heart was ripping at the seams.

He keeps it up in the day, but late at night, he can’t hide from his mind. At night he’s weaker, more susceptible to the loneliness. He sees his face in his dreams, hears his laugh ringing in his ears and feels his hand on the small of his back - vestiges of lingering touches he forbids himself to remember when he’s lucid, fractured moments of when he was still blissfully unaware. He refuses to let himself hope, because hope isn’t for the hopeless. He knows it firsthand how selfless Minhyun is, he’d live a life of abnegation if he could and Seongwu will not hurt Minhyun for his own sake.

He was too important.

°:.   *₊ ° .   ☆ ✮ °:.   *₊ ° . ° .•

Seongwu is sitting by a lake in the woods not too far from the city outskirts. The same lake by the clearing where it all started. In his ecology class he remembers his teacher saying something about how daisies were actually two flowers in one, nature’s idea of a pastiche of two souls joined together - supposed to symbolize true love or something. He’s holding one in his arms, twirling the stem in between his fingers as he picks off it’s purple petals one at a time and throws them into the water, watching it float aimlessly on the glassy surface.

I love him, I love him not, I love him, I love him not.

He chants it like a mantra, the answer he wants is different from what he knows to be the truth. He’s holding onto the last petal when I love him almost slips out. He doesn’t let it though, just keeps it there at the tip of his tongue, refusing to utter it into reality for fear it come to life. He merely throws the remnants of the daisy into the lake and looks off into the distance. How funny fate was, to punch him in the gut over and over again and to remind him of this hand he’s been dealt. Even in this childish game of roulette it had to prove it’s point.

The stupid ring chooses that moment to catch the light, and right then Seongwu thinks maybe the universe is just a giant conspiracy theory made to smite him. Thanks Hera!

“Hey.”

Seongwu is startled out of his thoughts, turning to see Jisung approach the lake before he makes himself comfortable right next to Seongwu.

Jisung starts with an expression akin to a grin, “Haven’t seen you in awhile.”

Seongwu hums in acknowledgement trying his best to avert his gaze, “I’m sorry, I’ve been busy.”  

“Busy my ass, you’re ignoring me, skipping class, refusing to respond to my letters. Minhyun meanwhile has been showing up to class, but he constantly looks like someone’s murdered his favorite teddy bear.”

Seongwu hears him but doesn’t acknowledge it, choosing to stare off into the distance, clenching his fists a little tighter until his nails dig into his palm. “What are you doing here?”

“Nothing! I just came to see how my friend was doing. It’s completely normal you know - to check in on someone, that’s what people do.”

“Well, you’ve seen me and I’m splendid, calm, perfectly fine. If you hadn’t noticed I’ve made plenty of ground in the last couple months. I’ve become the world’s most decorated conqueror.”

“More like a bonafide landlord, you’re still letting them self govern.”

“And it was a good decision!”

“Edgy, edgy. Someone’s going through a withdrawal.” Jisung tuts, shaking his head.

Seongwu doesn’t say anything. The willow trees suddenly seem like the most interesting thing in the world, he feels a little like the strands of leaves that are dangling in drapes, pushed and pulled in the direction of the currents of the wind, helpless to make their own choices.

“Seongwu.” Jisung sighs, and Seongwu knows just what he’s about to say.

“You two are good together.”

Seongwu blows a raspberry and turns to look at Jisung square in the face, drumming his fingers on the solid earth. “We were.”

Jisung furrow his brows, “That’s a troubling use of past tense.”

Seongwu fidgets with his ring, twists it around and scratches at the surface of it. He squints, there’s a tiny insignia on it that he’d never noticed before, it’s inscribed it one of those gaudy fonts characteristic of self important aristocracy that faff up their stationery bills in an attempt to mediate the fact that they care more about tea parties than tax reform. Seongwu mentally drop kicks himself. It’s the bitterness talking. Minhyun isn’t like that. He rolls his eyes at the idea that even when he should be giving Minhyun the silent treatment his mind continues to stubbornly act as his own knight in shining armor.

황•黃

Minhyun’s last name. It’s his family ring. All this time he’s been unknowingly walking around with his last name. The audacity of that man, even in times like this he manages to make Seongwu’s heart ache. He thinks of the fleeting touches these past few months, of how he lingers in a room just because he knows Minhyun’s in the other corner. How his body heat radiates hot like a fire band even a safe distance away. Every nerve ending in him is keeling at the thought of it becoming a reality. Alas he knows it will never be the case. It was never his destiny. It was never his decision to make. He can yearn as much as he pleases, he was not allowed to be happy.

Jisung’s eyes are knowing. “You’re lucky you know? To have someone so precious in your life.”

Seongwu scoffs, dropping his hands and tucking them under his thighs to hide the ring and inadvertently banish those traitorous thoughts. “Lucky is hardly the word I’d use. Perhaps tortured would be better. What about a corrupted beauty? Condemned to living a puritanical existence? All sounds just a tad bit more fitting.”

“Oh come on Seongwu, the kind of love you share - not everyone experiences it.”

“Jisung I don’t know what you’re talking about - I don’t love Min-” Seongwu start in an attempt to vehemently deny Jisung’s accusations. Jisung on the other hand pays him no mind. He continues, cutting through whatever excuse Seongwu’s brain had conjured up.

“If you love someone, tell them. Even if it feels like the worst thing to do. Even if you think that no good can come out of it. Even if you think,” Jisung pulls at some blades of grass in the ground, “it’ll uproot your life from its very foundation.”

“Don’t live your life with regrets, Ong, life’s too short for you to wile it away. Relationships are thinner than thread, too much distance and it’ll unravel at the seams, maybe even snap in two. Stop with your victim complex and realise that you’re not the only one who’s having it hard. You should see him. ”

Seongwu has seen him, but he refuses to see him because he doesn’t think he could stand knowing what kind of damage he’s done.

When he says it, his voice is so soft Jisung has to lean in to hear it. It’s fragile and hollow.

“I don’t want to be the reason he gets hurt.”

“You fail to see what you’re doing now is hurting him even more.” Jisung sighs and the wry smile he sports on his face tells Seongwu that there are some lingering words that remain unsaid.

“You’re a smart kid Seongwu, but sometimes the decisions you make are so, so stupid.” says Jisung, reaching out to pinch his cheeks then letting his hand drop to put a reassuring arm on his shoulder in a movement to bid him goodbye, before he gets up to leave.

“Come talk to me if you need it Seongwu, don’t be a stranger alright? I’m here for you too, please remember that you’re not doing this on your own. You have people who want to help you.”

“Tell him you love him before it’s too late. You owe that much to each other.” Says Jisung with an air of finality before he stands up, dusts off his trousers and walks back towards the city square.

Seongwu doesn’t have enough fight in him to verbally deny it anymore. He’s tired. He wants to give up.

Seongwu thinks about it so much he loses track of time. It’s not until he hears the dinner trumpets go off does he realize he’s probably been sitting there for a couple hours trapped in his own thoughts.

He can’t do it. He decides he won’t. Time is of the essence and he really has no more to give.

That is, until the day Minhyun makes a sporadic decision on the frontline to personally infiltrate the enemy stronghold alone.

°:.   *₊ ° .   ☆ ✮ °:.   *₊ ° . ° .•

He finds out after he’s won on his front. His general runs up to him with the news and Seongwu is absolutely livid. He storms back to headquarters, barking out orders to try and speed up Minhyun’s return. Perhaps maybe send a full battalion that way? He learns later that he isn’t allowed to do anything as Minhyun had given his squadron explicit orders not to act or it could potentially damage his reconnaissance mission and put his life at even greater risk.

So all Seongwu can do is wait. Hours and hours in the temporary throne room on their side of the stronghold where he cannot for the life of him sit still. He makes the executive decision that if Minhyun returns to him this time he will apologize, get on his knees and grovel, beg him to take him back. For the last couple of months Seongwu had managed to hold on to his sanity for the sole reason that he knew Minhyun wasn’t in danger. Now he couldn’t guarantee that. He realises that anything could happen anywhere. If Minhyun doesn’t come back this time, this is how their relationship would be remembered and Seongwu doesn’t think he could live with himself if that was the conclusion to what they were.

It’s a couple hours later when the double doors open.  

“I’m here.”

That’s it, the voice he’s been missing and it cuts through his stream of consciousness, piercing through his rage driven haze. Something melts in Seongwu, and like the sudden breaking of a damn, his limbs turn to mush and all he wishes to do is burrow into the soft strength of its owner’s arms. Longing to once again explore the beautiful geography of sculpted nose bridges, supple cheeks and elegant collarbones like when they were younger, more innocent.

Instead, as this prince would, he settles for something a little more lowbrow.

Weakness? As if, you’ve got to put on airs in front of your subjects. He was a master of disguise; though he consigns to the fact that Minhyun might just be the only one with the ability to see right through him.

“You look like a nightmare.” Says Seongwu, there’s a twinge of humor somewhere in that statement but mostly he’s too busy trying to flush out the many pent up receptacles of fear and anxiety trapped in his mind ever since he found out Minhyun had gone and done something so risky without so much as consulting with him.

Minhyun chuckles a little warily like he’s gearing himself up for what he believed to be Seongwu’s imminent lecture at his recklessness.

Seongwu glances around the room, there are some relieved faces. Some of his generals were looking a bit red and splotchy in the face fearing that their king would throw some kind of tantrum like a petulant child - after all, many still thought he was too young to lead Macedonia and many more too young to be king.

“Leave us, please.” Seongwu orders, and slowly everyone else trickles out of the room until only the two of them remain.

The silence that follows is deafening. For once Seongwu, smooth talker™️ is at a loss for words and all he can do is stare.

“I’m sorry.” Begins Minhyun, “I didn’t mean to... I just, I knew it had to happen...I’d just gotten word from one of my squadron leaders and you were all the way on the other side of the battlefield, I had to make the decision right away, or else we’d have lost...I’m sorry...I know you must have been worried.” Minhyun’s voice is a little shaky and his eyes are darting around looking anywhere but at Seongwu. There’s a bit of stubborness in the way his jaw sets - straight lines and hard edges. “I couldn’t trust anyone else to do it - it had to have been me.”

Seongwu reaches out to brush at Minhyun’s fringe, damp from the rain and dirtied by mud and ash. Almost immediately Minhyun’s shoulders that were high strung, still taut with the necessary cognizance of the battlefield visibly slump in relief. His expression seems to relax just the tiniest bit and yet he still retains his composure.

Seongwu lets out a long suffering sigh, he wants to stay angry, to scream at Minhyun but the rage that had just previously bubbled and bulged till it had threatened to burst was nowhere to be found. Maybe it’s an epiphany - call it what you will, it dawns on Seongwu like the last piece of a jigsaw coming into place or the relief from finally scratching that mystery itch that he was never upset in the first place. It was fear, fear that’d he’d lose his best friend, fear that had clouded his judgement when in fact what Minhyun had done was what he would have as well. Minhyun had saved him and his kingdom.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, you don’t even have to apologize. You’re right - as you always are. I was worried, I always will be whenever you’re concerned.” He musters up the courage to look Minhyun square in the eyes, hoping his sincerity touches him. Seongwu brings his hand down to cup Minhyun’s cheek and he nuzzles against the palm of Seongwu’s hand.

“But above all else”, he continues, knowing full well how sappy he sounds, “I trust you and I know with as much certainty as the lifeblood that runs through my veins, that anything you decide to do will always put our people at the forefront. That’s just how selfless you are. Thank you for doing what you did, I could never repay you.”

Minhyun’s looking at him strangely, his lips are slightly parted but he’s got a look of wonder in his irises, his cheeks flush a pretty pink reminiscent of rosebuds in the middle of May.

“You said our.”

“Our?”

“You said they were our people.” There’s a breathlessness in his statement, almost as if Minhyun can’t believe it himself, as if he’s scared it’ll evaporate into nothingness if he says it too loudly.

“I...I” Seongwu stutters, wondering if he’d made a mistake, if he’d given Minhyun a false sense of hope -

And then he feels it with such exceptional clarity, almost like Narcissus staring at his own reflection against the crystal of the creek.

It’s not a mistake.

“I did. You and me - us. Well, if you’ll have me. I am yours.” Seongwu tries to steady his voice, to stop the crescendo to the opera his heart seems to have begun to sing.

“Because I...I love you.” It’s like he just exhales it - those three words that have always been on the tip of his tongue, the sweetest taste with the most bitter of consequences. It’s so soft he barely even hears it himself.  “I’m sorry for only having the courage to tell you now, but the truth is I've known it for awhile.”

His confession comes out in a staccatoed stutter of distressed nerves and suddenly Seongwu feels as if the weight of the world has been lifted off of his shoulders.

“The way I treated you these past couple months. It was wrong of me, I’m sorry. When they told me what you’d done today I was so scared, Hyun, I couldn’t move. I was so scared something would happen to you. That’s when I realised all I had achieved was hurt you because I’d confused it with protection. That’s the least of what I wanted. I realised the fragility of human life - that anything could pull us apart at any second. We should live it in the way that makes us the happiest. Life is too short to think of what if’s, because what if’s don’t exist. It is the moment that we are in now that matters the most. Carpe Diem: Seize the day. And frankly I couldn’t imagine my day without you. I’m so sorry Minhyun, please forgive me. I love you more than life itself.”

The vulnerability he feels is unparallelled, and in this moment, he isn’t king. He’s just a boy, standing in front of his best friend hoping his feelings reach him. Pure, unadulterated and filled to the brim with lashings and lashings of honesty.  

When Seongwu was younger, he recalled how on another one of those rainy days not so different from the present, he’d watched raindrops trickle down the glass of his windows ever so slowly until they merged into one. He feels a little like that right now, two halves meeting in the middle - and suddenly, he’s whole again. It’s a new world view, the first wash of technicolor in his monochromatic existence.  

Seongwu supposes it’s because Minhyun really is his sun.

A constant brightness drawing him out from the infinite abyss that had been his solitude. The sudden realisation hits him some place deeper and more emotional than he’s fully ready to explore. The treacherous caverns of his heart claw at him tugging him to tell him to stop, desperately trying to signpost warnings in his peripheral;  something bright and crimson that reads DANGER in capital letters - and yet this was not enough. Faintly in the back of mind his curse waves it’s hand in a last ditch attempt to get his attention. However, his mind flashes back to the scullery maid and what she’d said that one time about love conquering all. Yes, Seongwu thinks, I want to try. Minhyun was like a balm to Seongwu’s soul and he can’t help but think he understands how Icarus felt. He would gladly if not readily take a dive in salt water to just get that much closer to the light of his life. Then too maybe like waxen wings all his worries would melt away.

It was love. It was love. Every iteration of it. There’s a coil in his stomach that’s been unwound, elongating and reaching up up up until he’s touching the cottony clouds, he feels like he’s soaring in the air, free at last from the shackles of his mother’s barter. He was finally admitting to his feelings that he had suppressed time and time again into a self imposed dormancy for so long. It’s like he’s been born anew, those demons in his head, skeletons in his closet now fleshed out, burned in the white light of this newfound clarity.

Love wasn’t some extravagant exchange. It’s not a weight in precious metals or huge sums of dowry. It’s a quiet calmness that creeps and crawls until slowly, slowly then all at once the velocity of the attack strikes you so hard you’re left paralysed. It whisks away your heart and soul, leaving you stunned at the discovery that they no longer belong to you anymore. You tell them things you wouldn’t dream of telling another soul and they listen, judgement free. There’s no insecurity, no jealousy because at the end of the day there’s a mutual faith that you’ll always come home to one another. When something good happens they’re the first person to spring to mind, the urge to let them in on your happiness far surpassing any other want. There’s no need to speak, just their presence envelops you in warmth and security. Colors are more vibrant, the days are brighter and the nights longer because you can’t bear being apart. Sleep is less tempting because reality is better than your dreams. Everything reminds you of them - their midnight locks in the feathers of ravens, the porcelain of their skin in the finest of china. Around them, you are yourself and they expect no more that just that. They love you regardless, flaws and all.

A leap of faith - curse be damned. As the king he had so many responsibilities, the wellbeing of his people was always his priority, he never stopped to think about what Minhyun needed, what he needed. Just this once he would allow himself to be selfish, and maybe seeing his genuinity the gods would let him have this one ounce of happiness- it’s not too much to ask now is it?

Minhyun seems to realise this as well. He pulls Seongwu into a hug, the tip of his nose ice cold against the rhythmic thumping of the pressure point behind Seongwu’s ear. “ I love you too - I am so completely, incandescently in love with you, for awhile I thought I was going to go insane.” Minhyun’s voice is shaking with emotion.

“But Seongwu,” Minhyun sighs, “you can’t just go around and make decisions about our relationship like that without me. These are the kind of things that we need to talk about, that’s what we are Ong, we’re partners above all else. When there’s a problem we communicate, it’s what we’ve always done. Don’t shut down like that, I’ll always be here to support you and you know that.”

Something liquefies in his bones, a kind of familiarity at being chastised after so long.

“I’m so sorry,” Seongwu’s voice breaks, “Can we go back to normal now, Minhyun? I want us to be us again.”

“Please. Let’s go back.” Minhyun answers, latching onto Seongwu even tighter than before.

°:.   *₊ ° .   ☆ ✮ °:.   *₊ ° . ° .•

Night falls, they’re in Seongwu’s room. The same one they used to have sleepovers in when they were younger where they fell asleep listening to each other’s voices speaking about books and poetry.

“Take it off.”

“What?”

“I said take it off.”

And so he does. In one swift movement Minhyun’s shirt is off, discarded somewhere off to the side.

All of the longing had culminated to this point. 

Subtlety was never Seongwu’s specialty. He reaches out to place his palm right on Minhyun’s abdomen. His muscles are taut and rippling under his touch. Seongwu’s well aware his fingertips are ice cold against the heat of Minhyun’s skin, but he pays it no attention as he lets them trail their way down Minhyun’s stomach. A minute goes by and Seongwu’s still tracing abstract shapes with his fingers, drinking in the view of the visible shudder that runs down his spine and smiles smugly to no one in particular.

Seongwu bends down to press a kiss to Minhyun’s chest before looking up at him from beneath his lashes in a deliberately seductive manner, catching his lower lip right in between his pearly white teeth, watching as Minhyun’s irises darken with every flick of his tongue.

“You’re really doing it to me Seongwu.”

He sees something snap in Minhyun, his usual calm and collected demeanor shattering before his eyes as he hooks his fingers into Seongwu’s belt and pulls him forwards so their chests are touching. There’s a fire in his eyes, desire pooling somewhere below the base of Seongwu’s stomach, and his basic human instincts are begging him to give in.

“It’s hardly fair that I’m the only one without a shirt on.” Minhyun all but growls, deep and guttural right by his ear before proceeding to nibble at his earlobe and Seongwu can’t help but feel goosebumps crawl up and down his arms and the blood rush to the tips of his ears.

Minhyun runs his hands up and down Seongwu’s sides, finding their way underneath his shirt before squeezing slightly at his waist and Seongwu’s legs almost give out, all points of contact searing like fiery licks of flame. He trails his mouth down to Seongwu’s neck, plush lips painting a masterpiece against the porcelain blank canvas of his skin.

“How do you always know just want to do, Hyun?” Seongwu says, barely choking out his sentence as Minhyun’s teeth graze a tendon.

He doesn’t answer, just continues with his tiny ministrations that make Seongwu see stars and bite back a toe-curling moan.

It all goes back to that theory of magnets, you can’t deny the attraction and distance only makes for a stronger collision. Moments of impact. We all have them and they’re what define the directions that our lives seem to go. Seongwu grabs at Minhyun’s shoulders and draws him up so they’re gazing into each other’s eyes before he kisses him so hard it almost hurts. Their mouths moving slow and languid one second, hard and harsh in another, some kind of carnal urge revealed in a desperate attempt to try and shed off the layers denying them of the sweet friction.

When they break apart, they’re both panting, breaths mingling, fanning sensually against swollen lips as Seongwu leans forward to rest his forehead against Minhyun’s oh so tenderly, oh so lovingly.

“I.” He begins,

He kisses him again.

“Love.”

and again

“You.”

Seongwu hears a sharp intake of breath, what follows is a giggle that bubbles up to the surface.

“I don’t think I will ever get over you saying that. I’ve been wanting to hear it for so long, it’s all I’ve ever dreamed of.” there’s a quiver in his voice, it’s him holding on to that last semblance of control he has over his emotions.

“You are perfect.” Minhyun murmurs, smiling against Seongwu’s lips.

“And so are you.” Seongwu responds before tugging a little too hard causing them both to topple onto the bed.

“Minhyun, are you sure about this?” Seongwu says, worrying at his lip all the while cupping Minhyun’s face in his hand as he rubs his cheeks with his thumb, “You’ll have me as me? With all the baggage that it entails? ”

Minhyun laughs, his voice is husky.

“Silly, I meant what I said when we first found out about the curse, Seongwu. I will never ever leave you, not if I have the power to control it. I wouldn’t want you any way else. I want this because you are Seongwu, brave, noble and charming. The Seongwu I grew up with, the love of my life.”

Minhyun says it with such conviction it leaves no room for doubt and Seongwu can only nod next to the beautiful canopy of stars peeking in through the windows before he arches up, locking his arms around the back of Minhyun’s neck drawing him closer and even closer still.

°:.   *₊ ° .   ☆ ✮ °:.   *₊ ° . ° .•

In the morning Seongwu wakes up to Minhyun staring up at him. His fringe is disheveled in the cutest way, falling messily over a delicate browbrone. His eyes are kind as he looks at Seongwu and Seongwu fears for the safety of his heart at the thought that from now on this will be the sight he wakes up to every single morning.

“Good morning sunshine.” Minhyun echoes what was said to him so long ago, but this time there’s no guilt, no fear, just a blanket of bliss that covers them in a world that only they exist in.

Seongwu chuckles, loud and carefree as he reaches over to wrap his arms around Minhyun’s torso.

They stay like that in silence for a while, just enjoying each other’s company as Minhyun plays with the baby hairs at the base of Seongwu’s neck.

“You know something?” Seongwu looks up so he can hear Minhyun better, “Language is such a beautiful thing, there are hundreds upon thousands of variations of word forms with similar meanings. I wish there were more ways for me to tell you I loved you. But all I can think of is your hands on mine, the way your hair tickles my neck when you lay your head so perfectly against my shoulder, the heat of your body flush against mine. But I guess that’s what love is, it’s not a word, it’s a feeling and I know I don’t even have to explain it to you because you feel it as strongly as I.”

There’s such a lyrical quality to the way he says it, and Minhyun probably doesn’t realize how profound of an effect it’s had on Seongwu whose seconds away from tears.

He props his head up on his arm so he’s staring straight at Minhyun, thin lips wobbling as he looks at Minhyun with an infinite amount of adoration, “What did I do to deserve you? The joy you bring me? It’s endless.”

“Oh Seongwu, I should be asking what I did to deserve you.” Minhyun responds as he leans in to pepper kisses all over Seongwu’s cheeks.

“Spend the rest of your life with me?” Seongwu asks as they pull away, “Would you marry me?”

To some this might sound out of the blue, sporadic and sudden, but to those that knew of the depth of their bond, this was a long time coming. What they had was a partnership yes, but also a red string of fate that tied them to one another, intertwining their lives so that they were one. Their successes were each other’s, their happiness was each other’s. They were each other’s.

“Yes.” Minhyun’s eyes are wide, the expression of amazement and wonder that dawns on his face transforms into one of jubilance. “I would be honoured.”

Seongwu thinks if he could, this memory would be the one thing he took into his next life, never to be forgotten; seared into his soul.

He remembers the joy, the overwhelming happiness that consumes him and he lets himself think - maybe I’ve won, maybe the scullery maid was right. This is it, I’ve conquered fate, I’ve conquered the gods and I’ve conquered my curse.

The light that shines in through the windows is warm and comforting, perhaps symbolic that from here on out things would be optimistic.

Seongwu would really like that. He squeezes Minhyun’s hand and pulls him so that they’re so close they’re sharing the same air.

He looks to the future.

°:.   *₊ ° .   ☆ ✮ °:.   *₊ ° . ° .•

It starts with a cold. It’s quite unassuming, not dangerous at all. Seongwu frets about as Minhyun is bedridden for a couple of days drifting in an out of consciousness. The court physician says it’s no problem, he guarantees Minhyun will recover.

He does. When he opens his eyes Seongwu is right beside him - their hands are intertwined and his lips are curved into a smile so radiant it rivals the shine of a diamond.

“Good morning sunshine.” Seongwu breathes, pressing a chaste kiss to Minhyun’s temple.

“Being a goober again first thing in the morning, I see.”

“You will allow me the right, I’ve been so worried about you.” Seongwu rubs circles on the back of Minhyun’s hand.

“What would you like, we should celebrate, you know what? I’m going to go into town and I’m going to bring you a surprise. How about that?”

He grins as he leans up to press his lips against Minhyun in an obvious display of affection. He smiles into the kiss.  

“I’ll only be a short while, don’t miss me too much.”

“I will always miss you Seongwu.” Minhyun says as he waves the King out of the room. He rushes off to go get the flowers Minhyun loves so much, excited to see his face flushed with happiness.

He never gets to see it.

~

Jisung gets a summons to the palace, he’s not quite sure what to expect. The details are vague, all he’s been told is there’s been an accident.  

As he makes his way to the medical ward, he feels a sense of foreboding and he doesn’t know what to make of it.

The first thing he sees is the prince, hunched over as if the fight’s been beaten out of him, smaller than he’s ever seen. He doesn't look like the king of Macedonia, the leader of the Greeks, overlord of Asia Minor, pharaoh of Egypt or the great ruler of Persia.

Jisung knows immediately that there’s only one person that could ever cause Seongwu to become this way. He approaches slowly, carefully, and his suspicions are confirmed when he sees Minhyun’s figure lying stark still on the bed, pale and ghost-like, his lips a chapped grey.

“Seongwu,” Jisung calls, softly, afraid that his voice might scare the prince who seems to be lost in his own thoughts, eyes heavy with silent tears trickling down his cheeks.

“He died.” Says Seongwu, and it’s said with so much finality Jisung feels a stabbing in his chest, the impact of the raw emotion knocking him off of his feet. “and, it’ll be on my conscience forever.”

Seongwu gets the sickest sense of Deja Vu, his mind flashing back to the first time they’d ever met and the stupid promise that nothing but death could separate them. What a laugh it was that it came true.

Jisung’s mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton, he doesn’t know what to say, his words getting caught thick and mossy on his tongue and no sound escapes his lips.

“Hey. Hey, Minhyun.” Seongwu croaks, hands going upwards to prod at his limp arms, turning his lifeless body so he’s facing him straight on, more tears fall, it seems to be unending - like that of a waterfall, or like the high tide, washing over anything and everything. He watches it drip, following the trajectory of the tears as they dampen Minhyun’s garments.

“It’s no use, it doesn’t matter how great people say I am, I wasn’t able to save you. What use is all of this,” Seongwu gestures vaguely at his surroundings - the gold scaffolding that lined the court balconies no longer looked as splendid the red velvet of the carpets no longer looked as elegant, it was the ruby red of blood - blood on his hands. “If I couldn’t save you.” His breath is shaky, lacking in conviction.

“Minhyun always liked camellias." Seongwu muses, "He said they were his favorite. I went out to get them for him today as a gift. For his recovery.”

It’s only then that Jisung notices the flowers that lay forgotten by the floor of the bed. They’re perfect, the vibrant yellows and the lively pink blush of the petals seems ironic now. He squints a little bit and crouches down to inspect it closer. Tucked in between the bouquet was a ring. Nothing fancy, just a generic silver band. On it was an inscription 옹•邕. It was the Ong family ring. Jisung realises with a gasp what it all means.

“Oh Seongwu, Seongwu-“ Jisung begins attempting to comfort him, though he knows his words will not be enough.

“Two hours ago we were still planning our future together.” His voice is hollow and he’s still clutching at Minhyun’s hands, so tightly - too tightly, it’s evident he’s scared that once he lets go he’s never going to be able to feel this sensation, this warmth ever again.

The ringing in Jisung’s ears heightens in the dead silence of the room.

“He was fine this morning.” Seongwu’s voice is quiet, an escaped breath. “I left him for two hours. I went into town to buy the flowers he loved so much and to….I wanted to ask him to marry me - officially. I’d already been wearing his ring for so long it only made sense that I finally gave him mine.” There’s an eeriness to the evenness of his tone of voice.

“Two hours!” He shouts, breaking the soundlessness of the room. Jisung understands the outcry, “That’s not even the length of a decent date.” Seongwu whispers.

“Can you believe all it took was two hours - out of a lifetime?” Seongwu’s voice breaks, and the pain is the first thing Jisung notices. It’s the only time in the 15 years Jisung’s known the king, he looks exposed - vulnerable even, he doesn’t look like the man that single-handedly led his legion of armies to conquer the New World, he doesn’t wear his regalness like a badge and he doesn’t disarm with his charm. The scariest thing to Jisung though, is the expression he wears; the unbridled grief that dominates his features is so overwhelming he himself can’t bear to look.

“I’ll never see him again. I’ll never hear his laughter, I’ll never feel his lips on my skin.” Seongwu looks down at Minhyun, melancholy written all over his posture, from the way his shoulders sag to the way his eyes no longer have a focus. It hurts.  

“His heart seized apparently, I wouldn’t know what that means. I’m not a doctor, I’m a warrior, I fight, I take lives. I’m the complete opposite of a savior. Isn't this evidence of that?” His voice cracks. 

“I was gonna spend the rest of my life with him, you know?” Seongwu chokes up, letting a fresh tear fall from the inner corner of eyes.

“I’m so so sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you. I’m sorry I wasn’t here with you. I was careless,” Seongwu chokes on his own words, the tears rushing out in torrents, hot and thick. He grabs at Minhyun’s hand. “Please tell me this is a joke, I’m not ready to face the world without you.”

“PLEASE!” Seongwu shouts slamming his fists against the bed until his hands are splotchy and scruffed, “please,” he says again, softer but even so it’s somehow more impactful than the aggression, it’s lined with defeatedness and permeated with hopelessness. Everything feels broken, a simultaneous ache runs throughout his entire body as he laments the nature of this cruel world. How they could take away someone so perfect when just a couple days ago he had been so healthy. Seongwu doesn’t have any fight left in him. He’s tired. His tether is no more - he’s flown too far away from the boundary line.

“I may not deserve it - my mother may have sold away my own happiness but what about Minhyun? He deserved a better life! He deserved more than this - he deserved more than you sorry excuses of Gods could ever dream to conjure up! You claim to be fair, to be just, but all you do is sit upon your throne of games. Our lives, their nothing but puppets for your own sick amusement. My mother too, she wanted a child so desperately - though it was at my expense even I cannot blame her... ”

It makes it all the more agonizing because Seongwu, and Minhyun too Jisung thinks, had never once stopped thinking that there was a future for them. Hope had existed for the two of them right till this moment and it’s always hard when something you believed so adamantly is proven wrong, incorrect - false, taken away from you in an instant. Jisung had truly believed that for their sake the Gods would let them have this, that the two of them had a love so strong they’d be able to overcome any obstacle thrown their way.   

“Jisung,” Seongwu mutters, the first time he’s directly addressing his teacher, he slouches, not having any more energy in him to hold himself together. “Will it ever stop hurting?” The longing that decorates his question is so sad that Jisung feels himself losing his grip on his own emotions as well.

“Wouldn’t be love if it did, my dearest Seongwu. You just learn to make room for it.”

Once in your life you meet someone that changes it for the better. You love so hard that you can’t picture your life, or even a future without them. They have so permanently inserted themselves into your narrative that you couldn’t tell your story without them playing a leading part. For Minhyun and Seongwu, all of life’s trials and tribulations only led them back to each other. It was their only destination.

"I never even got to say goodbye." A condensed kind of anguish pervades his tone of voice and Seongwu's eyes don't seem to have a focus, staring glassily at the bleak nothingness of the clinically white walls. He gives up. 

Jisung can do nothing but watch the prince mourn, loud and sorrowful until his own eyes too begin to swim with tears.  

°:.   *₊ ° .   ☆ ✮ °:.   *₊ ° . ° .•

My dearest Minhyun,

I’m sorry I couldn’t give you the epilogue our story deserved. I tried, I really did. I wanted us to work and I wanted us to be happy - that was it maybe, I was focusing too much on the “I” and not enough on the “us”. I’d gotten greedy, lost sight of myself and in my quest for self satisfaction you became the collateral damage to my selfishness. For that I could never apologize enough.

It’s funny you know? All my life I felt like I had something to prove. I wanted to be something other than the cursed prince, I wanted to bury the pitying gazes - give them something else to talk about. They say eyes are the windows to the soul, I think they’re wrong. They’re a reflection, and what I thought I saw was actually shrouded by what I’ve now come to conclude as self-loathing. I thought I’d ruined my mother’s life and by default my father’s. Maybe that’s why I carried around that stupid handkerchief - because I couldn’t let go of the guilt. But then, a little boy no older than I with constellations in his eyes came into my life with the light of a thousand suns and said what I guess I’d always wanted to hear. He said, “When someone’s trying their best you say well done, not poor you.” It struck a chord with me. I wonder how even then when I was nothing more than a stranger he knew just what to say. Slowly I learnt to forgive myself. I accepted that it was not my fault and that I was merely a product of my circumstances.

I think that’s when I fell for you - I didn’t even know it myself. What started off as admiration evolved into something I can’t even begin to describe with words. I wanted more, I couldn’t stop. Every touch, every smile, I savoured it like it was some kind of opium tailor-made for me.

I’d spent my time trying to carve out something that was beyond me. This is the punitive retribution for the starry-eyed.

I doubted everything in my life, only my love for you remained a constant. For the longest time I wondered what love was but then, I laugh now thinking about it, I realised that I’d always had it. It was obvious yet discreet, hidden in the deliberate brushing of fingertips and the furtive glances veiled by camel lashes.

When I woke up that first morning in your arms the euphoria I’d felt had been unparalleled. I couldn’t help thinking that it was a paradox for no other feeling in the world could make me feel as filled with happiness but as devoid of anything but your love.

This stupid curse never specified when those I loved would leave. How cruel to have it come true the second I’d admitted it to myself.

I know how much you valued organization, you used to chide me for being a mess. I’m sorry this letter lacks it, my thoughts are coming to me all broken and fractured. I’m writing as I go.

Even in this letter I’m talking about myself. I seem to do that a lot. You’d probably say, “silly Seongwu”.

It still gets to me I’ll never hear that again in this life. I’ll never get another chance to see the passion in your eyes or feel the softness of your skin. My world’s stopped turning without you in it. Dramatic? Possibly, take it as satire, I know you’d appreciate it.

Sometimes I wonder how we clicked together so perfectly. We understood each other, we were supposed to spend the rest of our life together. Why’d you have to go and leave me so quickly? Alone to guard the smiles we shared, the memories we’ve made.

Don’t mind me, I’m just looking for something to blame, I know it wasn’t voluntary. It makes the truth a little easier to stomach, though I don’t think I could ever come to fully accept it.

This is my last love letter to you. You completely turned my life around. We used to joke that I’d have gone rogue without you but that’s probably the truth. I love you so much. But you probably knew that from the start - I was already clay in your hands. You knew everything about me. With you, laughter became a daily part of my life when before it was so scarce. Seeing your face got me through the day. Will I be able to get through my days from now on? That remains to be seen. I miss you.

Ashes to ashes dust to dust, we are but a speck in this vast expanse of the universe. Whether we live, whether we die it is our legacy that we create in the short time we’re given that survives us. I’m forever grateful you were a part of mine.

I heard once that you die three times in a single life. The first when your body gives in. Then, at your funeral when those you were closest to you lay down their hearts and put you to rest and finally, when the last person that remembers you passes away.

I hope our legacy outlives us for eons to come so people will never forget the all-consuming depth of our love.

Maybe in our next life we’ll meet again. I think I’d like to be a farmer in a quiet little town, a refuge from all the white noise. We could have our own garden, tucked away by the lush foliage it would just be the two of us. Doesn’t that sound nice? To have our own little world. We’d live a simple life, where we could love each other to our heart’s content free of meddling deities and courtly duties. I can’t wait.  

all the love in the world couldn’t compare to how I love you.

Thank you for being the best part of me. I will miss you until I see you again. I can say with certainty that our souls will find each other as many lifetimes as it takes.

With everything that I am,

Your Seongwu.

He drops the letter into the grave and releases his palm full of dirt, watching it fall together with the last remnants of the love of his life, melding into the earth.  

°:.   *₊ ° .   ☆ ✮ °:.   *₊ ° . ° .•

A couple months later Seongwu loses his life at the hands of an unknown sickness. Some say it was from a broken heart.

The court advisor later recounts the King’s last words.

“Jisung, I see him. He’s calling out to me. His arms are spread out wide, it looks like home. It’s time for me to join my love. It’s time for me to go.”

He’s buried with his ring still adorned on his finger, catching the last glints of sunlight right till the casket is shut.

°:.   *₊ ° .   ☆ ✮ °:.   *₊ ° . ° .•

Seongwu’s ringtone cuts through the noise of the busy Seoul streets, some obscure indie band that no one’s heard of. He picks up. It’s from his manager.

“We just got a callback, you did it you made the cut for that Produce 101 show!”

Something in him buzzes, telling him to anticipate what’s to come. A palimpsest in his head of a smiling face enshrined in sunlight.