Chapter Text
“You speak as if I mean you ill,” his mother mourns, placing a hand on her forehead as if to steady herself. He rears back and opens his mouth, but she holds a hand out to stop him and rises gracefully to her feet. The crimson red silk of her hanbok swirls imposingly on the floor, reminiscent of a pool of blood.
“Let me make this clear,” she orders with an unpleasant smile, the corners of her painted lips stretching up to his ears, “you are the son I chose to continue the Silla legacy.” He purses his lips. “There is a reason why I did not kill you in your youth, why I tolerated your hasty little mistakes. Do not make me regret that decision, my son.”
He closes his mouth and bows deeply, shuffling out of the room silently and bowing down even further out of the door. The servants scatter as he strides angrily down the corridor, and he waves a hand for someone to bring him a horse. A shaking boy bows, nearly a hundred degrees, and leads him to the stables. He selects the fastest steed of the lot—a young, impatient stallion with a white mane.
“I will be back,” he says offhandedly, taking the reins. Someone runs before him and throws themselves onto the floor, forming a little stool for him to step upon. He mounts quickly, tossing the man a gold coin and clicking his heels, guiding the stallion out into the Gyerim forest.
The wind whips past his cheeks and undos the fluttering ribbons in his long hair. Minhyun tightens his thigh muscles and holds on tight, bringing his hands up to scoop his hair together and tucking it under his collar.
“Ride!” he commands, and his steed quickens, nearly flying out into the forest. Trees and greenery blur together into walls of green and brown, and he shuts his eyes even though he remembers he cannot for the sake of safety. His thighs slacken and immediately, the stallion jumps over a fallen log. Yelling, he bends low to hold on tightly to the horse’s neck, tightening the reins to slow the horse into a trot.
“That was hilarious,” someone chortles from the trees, and he looks up with a frown. Jonghyun drops, landing softly on the balls of his feet.
“What are you doing here?” he demands, and his old friend shrugs, holding up his bow and arrow.
“Hunting,” he says, “or, I was, until someone scared my rabbit away.”
“If you wanted a rabbit,” Minhyun feels awfully out of his depth, "you could have asked for one from me."
“What can I say?” Jonghyun shrugs, walking forward to calm his horse with a few patient pats. “I live for the chase.”
Minhyun watches the horse nuzzle his hand, the feeling in his heart just… soft. Jonghyun catches him watching and asks with a teasing gaze, “What?”
“I’m getting married,” the words bursts out from his lips, and he sees Jonghyun grin.
“Congratulations,” the older by a few months comments. “Who’s the lucky princess?”
“Princess Minkyung of Goguryeo,” he groans, licking his lips. Jonghyun remains unbothered, coming over to the steed’s side to smooth his mane. “First daughter.”
At this, Jonghyun looks up, smiling. Minhyun thinks he sees stars in his eyes.
“You’re the lucky one, then,” he drawls, holding a hand out. Minhyun takes it, and Jonghyun vaults easily onto the steed, settling behind him. “Let’s go home, Crown Prince. Your sister will be worried.”
Minhyun turns the steed, and Jonghyun snakes his muscled arms around his waist, leaning forward to lean his cheek against the silk of his jacket. He can feel his breath at his ear, and the knowledge that Jonghyun is here, out of all places, warms him. Nudging the steed back into a trot, he asks, “Are you happy for me?”
“Yes,’ Jonghyun muses, “if you are happy, so is your lowly servant.”
“Lowly,” he scoffs. “We’ve been together since childhood, Jonghyun.”
“I was only the young rascal who patched up the bleeding Crown Prince,” Jonghyun recounts drily. Minhyun shakes with silent laughter, remembering scowls and blood all over the floor of the courtyard. A smaller hand tucked into his, and looking up to see sparkling eyes and a gentle smile. Jonghyun has changed since then, not like him.
“You’re the consistent one,” his friend snaps, and he realises belatedly that he spoke the words out loud. “Always the same, you are.”
“Be quiet,” he bites back, shoving with the shoulder Jonghyun has his cheek on.
“Stop,” Jonghyun slaps his back, and he tightens the reins. He slides off the back of the horse and whistles sharply, and another horse, incredibly small, comes out of the trees. The horse nickers at the sight of the three of them, and Jonghyun mounts it.
“Is that a pony?” he asks, and Jonghyun scowls. Before he can say anything to defend his steed, the horse gnashes her teeth at his stallion. The stallion bucks, spooked, and he manages to fist his hands in the horse’s mane. “What the—”
“She’s got a temper,” Jonghyun chuckles, “just like me.” Minhyun smiles to himself and coaxes his horse to go back home, with his friend trailing behind.
The wedding is scheduled for the next month, and Princess Minkyung issues him a formal letter that speaks nothing of her loathing of the arrangement and just the happiness of such a royal union. Minhyun tosses the letter into the first fire he sees.
It’s a prosperous date— set for the twentieth day of the Tenth Lunar Month. Jonghyun pales when he hears the date, and disappears for a few days. Minhyun knows not what to make out of his silence, but he assumes that his friend needs time for himself.
His mother drives him mad first with the wedding preparations, then herself. She collapses one day, laughing about the good fortune of the royal household. Minhyun reports this to the emperor, who shakes his head and sends him away without a passing glance. His sister Sujin takes over the preparations and actually asks for his opinion, so he selects the colours of blueberry purple and deep teal to accent the wedding. Sujin contacts the best dressmaker in the country, and he dyes the hanbok with blueberry and morning glory extract.
Jonghyun reappears a few days later, with a tired smile. Minhyun meets him by their old playroom and hugs him, tight. His friend goes tight when they embrace, bowing sharply and excusing himself. Minhyun stares after him in confusion, and the court joker Ong Seongwoo rounds the corner right then.
“Where did the young General go?” he questions, and the joker bows before thinking.
“I’m not sure, your majesty,” Seongwoo murmurs carefully, eyes lowered to the floor, “but it seems that he was called into a conference with your father before he left.”
“My father?” he echoes, creasing the skin on his forehead. His father spends less than a minute on him, why would he call on Jonghyun? Minhyun dismisses the joker and chases after the swirl of Jonghyun’s teal uniform.
“General Kim!” he orders, and the man halts in his footsteps, turning around to face him. He’s got a smile on his face, so for one second Minhyun thinks that everything’s alright.
“How may I help you, Crown Prince?” he asks, his smile widening painfully. There is something wrong in the absence of his smile lines.
“You’ve lost weight,” he observes. “Where did you go?”
“Goryeo, your highness,” Jonghyun answers, eyes darting around nervously. “I delivered your letter. The princess is very beautiful.”
Minhyun blinks, and a servant appears at his side.
“Sir,” she whispers, “your sister Sujin is looking for you.”
“Thank you,” he dismisses her, looking up. Jonghyun is already gone, the only indication of his appearance the scent of honey in the air. Minhyun frowns in disappointment, gesturing to the servant waiting. She bows once, then leads him to the back gardens where Sujin is waiting.
Sujin is wearing a hanbok of brilliant blue— dyed with crushed beetles, he assumes— and pacing up and down. He steps between the bushes of lavender, nearing her. She turns as he arrives, glancing up and down.
“You’ve seen the young General, I presume,” Sujin murmurs, and Minhyun nods.
“How did you know, sister?” he asks. Sujin looks pained, and a hand comes up to scratch the back of her neck.
“The light in your eyes, the half formed smile on your lips,” she mumbles. They are in privacy of the gardens that bloomed under his sister’s hands, but even so she lowers her voice and speaks in riddles. “Minhyun… you have to marry the princess.”
“Is that not what I am doing?” he inquires in bafflement, and Sujin closes her eyes, looking torn.
“Yes,” she says after a moment, then changes tracks. “Our country is celebrating Sandalgosa on that day, so you have to wind your golden rope yourself. The materials are already in your room, so please do it as soon as possible.”
He nods once, and Sujin takes her leave, curtseying prettily. Her trusty handmaiden appears by her side, and the both of them confer in low volumes as Sujin returns to her chambers. Minhyun waits among the flowers until the coast is clear. He knows that if their parents know that they are speaking privately, they would beat the individuality out of them—just like what they did to the other children. For a second, he thinks he sees a simple cotton hanbok the colour of teal. He walks forward, intent on seeing… does he hope it’s Jonghyun? He doesn’t know anymore.
There is a hand on his mouth, and he thrashes wildly, trying to cry out.
“Shh!” a familiar voice scolds. “It’s just me.”
He sits up once the hand is taken off his mouth, lighting the candle with trembling hands. Jonghyun looks fatigued, with dark eye circles and a pale face.
“What are you doing?” he asks, relaxing. Jonghyun draws his feet closer, letting go of the curtain and slipping into his mattress. “Jonghyun—”
“Did you know that it is Sonseokpong tomorrow?” he cuts him off, leaning forward. His eyes are dark, and Minhyun can see nothing of the stars he loves. “The strongest winds arrived today.”
Minhyun blinks, turning his head to observe the passing storm outside.
“I can see that,” he murmurs carefully. There is something wrong. Jonghyun’s hands are clenching around nothing, and he folds his legs. His friend sits immediately once the space is cleared… not really sitting, but more like his legs buckled. “What’s the matter? I’m getting married tomorrow.”
“Married…” Jonghyun hums emptily, looking into his face. Minhyun recognises the expression he has on now; it’s fear. “Do you know why the king called on me?”
“No,” he breathes. Jonghyun face is very close to his, the light from the candle casting odd shadows onto the walls.
“He called me because I was a distraction to the Crown Prince,” Jonghyun mumbles, “that I loved him too much to let him go.”
Minhyun’s breath catches in his throat, and Jonghyun looks up at the sound of his sharp inhale.
“I know it is true on my end, but is it true for you, Minhyun?” Jonghyun asks, eyes glittering— not with stars, but tears. Minhyun pauses.
“I ate one red pepper and teared,” he reads off a poem he remembers about love, “yet because of one tiny little piece of love I put in my mouth, I wept.”
Jonghyun’s brow creases, and Minhyun sighs.
“Yes,” he mumbles. “It is.” Jonghyun nods once, curtly, and stands from the bed. “Are you just going to leave like that?”
“You have to get married, my prince,” Jonghyun says briskly, looking down at the golden rope tossed carelessly on the floor. Minhyun makes a sound of protest, and the expression on Jonghyun’s face softens. He leans close, whispering next to his ear, “We have twenty four lifetimes to go, your highness.” Jonghyun presses his lips chastely to his cheek, then draws back with a smile. “See you in the next one.”
He escapes in the middle of the night, jumping out of Minhyun’s window into the storm. Jonghyun hesitates halfway, looking back at him. The drops of rainwater roll off his face in rivulets, darkening his brown hair to a flat black. In that scene, with his pale face, black hair and black coat jacket, Jonghyun looks almost monochrome and lifeless.
He opens his mouth, but his old friend gives him a smile and a wave, then disappears from this lifetime forever.
“Father,” his daughter holds his hand, “won’t you stay longer?”
“No, dear,” he groans, feeling his soul slip away, “I’ve got someone else waiting for me… in my next lifetime.”