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Chapter Text

Sometimes Seonghwa’s mind was invaded by strange dreams. At least, he thought they were dreams.

There were faces and voices, images that flitted in and out of focus, sometimes nightmares that crescendoed into darkness and panic.

He always woke from those with his mother rubbing his back and singing to him.

But some time around his tenth birthday it all stopped. He sat patiently playing idly with some wooden action figures and watching Mother bake his birthday cake when she suddenly turned around and pointed her spoon at him.

“You should be starting an apprenticeship soon.”

“I should...?” Seonghwa closed his fists around the figures, hiding them from view. He was probably too old for them.

“Yes, you’re almost of age,” she tutted and guided herself into a chair opposite his. “And I’m going to retire soon.”

“Retire?” Seonghwa asked, surprised. Sure, his mother had quite a few grey hairs and struggled to get around the house sometimes, but Seonghwa couldn’t imagine her leaving her position as palace nurse. The younger prince would need her, wouldn’t he?

“The princes are almost of age as well,” she continued, answering his question before he got a chance to ask. “They won’t be needing me to look after them while they learn how to rule a kingdom.”

Seonghwa frowned. He liked it when Mother was away at work and he could play with his friends, getting into trouble climbing on the city walls and drainpipes and watching carriages and palanquins go by.

“What will I learn how to do?” He asked with a pout, fiddling with his toys under the table. The face on his pirate character had nearly rubbed off. “I don’t get to learn how to rule a kingdom.”

At this, Mother bit her lip and looked away, sighing through her nose and fetching the bowl of cake mixture. “Why don’t you learn to cook?”

She handed it to him and smacked his hand when he went to lick the spoon. Again, he pouted, but obediently stirred while she instructed over his shoulder.

He enjoyed his birthday cake even more than usual that evening, due to the small part his own hands played in creating it, and asked his mother to teach him how to make bread the next morning.

Perhaps growing up wasn’t terrible after all.

It was a bit difficult to explain to his friend Chaeyoung why he was giving his toys away to her little brother Chan while they sat on the wall and enjoyed some freshly baked bread the next week. Of course, Seonghwa kept his favourite pirate figure hidden under his pillow because even growing up couldn’t separate them.

“We can still play together, right?” Chaeyoung raised an eyebrow at him. “Because I brought these.”

She pulled a pair of guns out from her bag and Seonghwa’s jaw hit the floor.

“Father gave them to us,” she announced proudly. “They’re safe to play with, not loaded or anything, and if you think these are exciting, you should see the new one he was just issued.”

Her father, Lieutenant Park, was a naval officer who was in the local regiment but it appeared had been reassigned, and rearmed quite handsomely.

“Well,” Seonghwa drew his composure together, fully aware that Chaeyoung knew better than anyone how much he loved even the very idea of battling on a ship. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. I’ll go ask Donghyun if he’d like to join us.”

He hopped off the wall and hurried over to the door of his next door neighbour. It was Donghyun himself who answered, and he was just as eager to get in on the action.

The three of them walked towards the city centre while Chan followed behind. Seonghwa was leaving the house against express orders from his mother, but he knew by now the general timeframe of her work schedule and what she didn’t know about his afternoons wouldn’t hurt her.

“I have to grow up too, you know,” Donghyun mentioned passingly to Seonghwa. He was the oldest of them, and the quietest, probably due to his overbearing parents who took it upon themselves to mould him into the social-climbing gentleman they could never be.

“You’re practically already grown,” Seonghwa joked, his smile falling when Donghyun avoided his gaze.

“Well, it’s gotten worse. Mother and Father don’t consider art a profitable trade and encourage me to take interest in something else. If they find out where we’re going, they’ll probably confiscate my painting supplies.”

“We’ll just have to make sure they don’t find out where we’re going then.”

Their destination was the grand fountain. Imposing statues at various levels spilled water into the magnificent basin and the children easily climbed over the edge and splashed around in mock battle without any trouble from the authorities.

Even Seonghwa would usually refuse to participate in such risky play, but there was no guard here to turn them out, and the fountain would be emptied come winter.

The capital city of Doljeon was too busy to care about four children roughhousing in the grand fountain and for the half hour they risked it, they weren’t bothered.

When Chaeyoung pretended to fire her gun at him and he threw himself back into the water, thoroughly soaking himself, Seonghwa figured he’d had enough.

The other three followed his lead when he climbed out and pulled a bath towel off a nearby clothesline to dry himself off.

“What if the owner comes out and finds wet towels?” Chan questioned nervously, shaking droplets out of his hair. He was only three years younger than the rest, but they were nearing apprenticeship age and he was not, which made him practically an infant in their eyes.

“Hope that a rain cloud covers our tracks,” Seonghwa laughed, slinging the towel back over the line and readjusting the clothespins.

Donghyun had gone quiet again and when Seonghwa followed his eyes, he quickly learned why.

A poster was pasted to the wall of the shop opposite them. The great artist Kwangsuk, coming to paint the royal portrait, was also looking for an apprentice here in Doljeon.

Seonghwa could see the longing in Donghyun’s eyes and pulled the poster off the wall to inspect more closely.

“Is this the same Kwangsuk who painted all the great lords and officers?” He asked rhetorically, smiling fondly as Donghyun could only nod in his starstruck state.

“Ooh! Maybe we should ask him to paint our family when father becomes a war hero!” Chaeyoung gasped, elbowing Chan until his attention was also on the sheet.

Seonghwa smiled at their confidence. Lieutenant Park was no doubt a great man, but they weren’t currently at war for him to make such an impression.

But Donghyun, on the other hand...

“When are the royal family sitting for it? Is it a public event?” He squinted at the print on the bottom of the page and found the time and location.

“Tomorrow evening, the palace,” he sighed when he found it. It would be preposterously difficult to find a way in, especially to do so without being seen by Mother. “Let’s do it.”

Donghyun blinked at him dubiously.

“You’d attempt to sneak into the palace? For me?”

“I don’t see any other option,” Seonghwa shrugged as if it were nothing. “If your parents won’t let you apply for his apprenticeship, you’ll just have to find another way. And this looks like the way right here.”

“Besides!” Chan piped up. “We’re your friends.”

And so it was settled.

When they reached their road, Seonghwa reluctantly relinquished his gun, fantasising the rest of the evening about becoming an admiral’s steward and cooking on a real frigate with a real gun in his holster.

When he kissed his mother goodnight and pulled the covers up to his chin, the gravity of his promise began to weigh on him.

They needed a plan for tomorrow or they were toast. Plain and simple.

He tossed and turned but nothing came to mind and eventually he gave in to sleep.

Seonghwa awoke from a nightmare that night with a tear-streaked face and shakily sang to himself on his own. He was nearly grown, which meant he should handle his fears himself. He didn’t need Mother rubbing his back anymore.

Perhaps growing up was harder than he thought.

Chapter Text

Up until this point in his life, Seonghwa had always been considered a model child, at least by those who didn’t know about his afternoon exploits in the city.

He was well-behaved, intelligent, and all around an excellent choice in companionship.

But he was risking it all for a single chance at success that wasn’t even his.

“It will be fine,” he whispered to himself, closing the door behind him as quietly as possible. “No one will notice a thing.”

Mother was still at the palace while the sun was setting and the royal painting was beginning, and right now she was the greatest threat to Seonghwa’s plan.

They had it all figured out. Chan was staying home to cover for Chaeyoung’s absence, and Donghyun’s parents were out at some social event cozying up to lords and noblemen.

Seonghwa’s mother was the foremost obstacle, and if she spotted them in the Great Hall, it was over.

The trio met and silently made their way into town. The fountain wasn’t running at the moment with the bright pink and violet painted across the sky indicating the quick arrival of nighttime, but the rest of Doljeon was alive.

The market smelled like springtime. Fresh fruits in the stalls, bouquets in the flower stands, the newest fashion styles displayed in shop windows. Seonghwa’s gaze lingered on a stuffed rabbit toy before he remembered what he was supposed to be doing.

Palace infiltration. A very grown-up thing.

“Where’s that servant entrance you were talking about?” Chaeyoung whispered, poking him in the arm and stopping to look up at the formidable palace gates.

The iron was moulded in a beautifully delicate shape, but the gate was connected to the famous stone wall, imbued with all kinds of traditional symbols of power and patrolled continuously by the palace guards.

“Um... I think it’s this way,” Seonghwa gulped and broke off to the side, following a shaded side path around the side of the complex.

“Here we are,” he sighed when they were about halfway.

“But...” Donghyun gave him a look. “I thought you said the side entrance takes you  into  the palace!”

“I haven’t actually been there myself!” Seonghwa hissed back, stepping back to get a look at the palace through the plum blossom trees.

“There is an entrance!” Chaeyoung pointed out excitedly, grabbing Seonghwa’s hand and moving him so he was pointing to it. “You just have to get into the courtyard... over the wall.”

The wall wasn’t excessively tall, only about the size of a grown adult male, probably because the ancient kings who built it wanted their glorious palace to be visible.

The three stood there in contemplative silence and tried to contrive a solution to their problem.

“How do you think we’re doing on time?” Seonghwa timidly asked.

“He should be done in the next five to ten minutes,” Donghyun reported from experience. “Assuming he started on time and the princes sat still.”

“I’ve got it!” Chaeyoung suddenly yelled, quieting to a whisper when hushed. “I’ll boost you two over the wall. You’ll have to leave me here, but I’ll wait here until you’re finished in case you need help getting back over.”

“But I’m stronger,” Seonghwa pouted. “Let me do the boosting.”

“Well, I’m taller,” Chaeyoung shot back and Seonghwa couldn’t help but stick out his tongue at the unnecessary brag. “And besides, this was your idea. You’ve got to help Donghyun get the artist’s attention.”

“ Master artist,” Donghyun corrected quickly, earning an eye roll. “Alright, let’s go.”

Chaeyoung was both strong and tall enough to boost both boys over the wall, squeezing Seonghwa’s hand once for luck before he disappeared to the other side.

“Quickly!” Seonghwa urged Donghyun forward and into the servants’ entrance just as a pair of guards rounded the corner.

They hadn’t been seen.

“If you haven’t been here before, how are you supposed to know where the Great Hall is?” Donghyun asked, a logical concern, but Seonghwa shushed him and listened carefully to the surrounding noises before pulling him to one direction.

“Listen for the audience.”

“Courtiers!” Donghyun gasped in realisation. “Wherever they are, the royal family is. And wherever the royal family is, Master Kwangsuk is.”

“Have you got your painting?” Seonghwa asked as they moved quickly past some kitchen workers. It was probably beneficial that they looked like a pair of faceless servant boys. 

Donghyun nodded and clutched his canvas tighter. It was small, but it was his best work yet and if anything was going to impress the master, this would be it.

They waited in a grand hall for the session to be finished and Seonghwa couldn’t help but look around in awe. The ceilings were high and vaulted, ornately decorated with so many meaningful tiles of various colours that he could stare for hours at the stories they told without getting bored.

When he peeked into the throne room, his gaze landed not on the pillars or the gold overlays but the family sitting there in their most regal attire, posing for the master. The younger prince, the one who was Seonghwa’s age, wasn’t present. He wondered in passing how he could miss such an important event.

There was still something familiar in their faces, and though Seonghwa had never seen them before in person, he felt that he knew them.

A moment later, Master Kwangsuk stood and showed them his painting, and then once the impressive portrait was taken to be displayed and the customary farewells had been finished, he packed up his art supplies and walked towards the pair.

“Now’s your chance!” Seonghwa whispered, excited, and pushed Donghyun in the direction of the older man.

Startled, Donghyun failed to control his momentum and went barrelling into the artist, brushes and paint cans rolling every which way.

“I’m so sorry!” He stuttered, scrambling to help pick things up, and blushing when Kwangsuk’s eyes fell on his own painting, mixed up with the other materials.

“Well, this isn’t mine,” The artist hummed knowingly, glancing it over before handing it back to the boy and standing to leave.

Uh oh.

Donghyun was missing his chance...

“It-It’s a self portrait!” Donghyun called after him, following him a few steps until he turned around for a second look.

“Indeed,” Kwangsuk admitted, tilting his head and observing the painting more shrewdly. “The lighting is so weak, it’s quite unconventional...”

“I painted it in the dark,” Donghyun admitted, a bit more defensively than he meant to. “My parents don’t approve, I have to work at night.”

Kwangsuk looked up from the portrait to its artist. 

“I’ve been entertaining potential apprentices all day,” he admitted. “I had yet to see anything particularly meaningful until your portrait. What do you say to calling on your parents and changing their minds?”

Donghyun looked so happy Seonghwa couldn’t help but smile and clap his hands, before noticing the royal family exiting the throne room with his mother in tow.

Quickly, he ducked behind a curtain. 

It was probably his cue to leave. Donghyun was in Kwangsuk’s care now and Chaeyoung was still waiting at the wall.

Without incident, he made his way back, climbing some crates stacked near the inside of the wall and sliding down the tiles that adorned the top. 

“How did it go?” Chaeyoung whispered, helping him down. 

“They’re going to convince his parents!” Seonghwa laughed, taking her hands in his and spinning them around. “There’s no way they’ll refuse when the most esteemed artist in the country is vouching for him!”

They walked home together the long way, hyperactive and full of energy from their thrilling adventure.

When Seonghwa said his goodbyes and let himself into the house, he was shocked to see his mother had apparently beat him.

“Oh! Mother...” he laughed awkwardly, closing the door behind him. 

“Don’t bother with excuses, I saw Donghyun,” she said sharply, kicking out the seat across from her and motioning him to sit. “You do everything together.”

Seonghwa sighed and flopped into the chair. He was in for the scolding of his life.

“Now that you’ve been to the palace, I can’t put off telling you any longer.”

“Telling me... what?”

“Sit down. There’s something you should know.”

Chapter Text

“It all began when I was hired on as Prince Junhee’s nurse years ago,” Mother began. Seonghwa tucked up his legs and tried to get comfortable in the chair. This would likely be a long storytime.

“As you can imagine, the process was grueling and intense and I was trained even from adolescence as a courtier to care for small children in the hopes that I could land the job,” she went on with a sigh. “I was, of course, ecstatic when I did, and even more so when I met the handsome, noble, powerful man that was— is— the King.”

Here she glanced down at her lap and shook her head before finding her voice again. “It was just one of those things, a moment you wish later that you could change, but at the time it occurred I had no control. My heart drowned out my head and behind the Queen’s back, the King and I grew close. Too close. Two children were born to him the same year, one was the Queen’s and one was mine. But instead of making me a concubine, the King decided instead that to keep me quiet he would send me and my child— his child— here to live in the city, strangers to him even as I raised the princes and maintained a professional relationship with the royals. To this day, the Queen knows nothing.”

Seonghwa caught his breath at the implication of all this. Some of the details were beyond his understanding but it sounded like what Mother was saying was that the King was his father.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she snorted, cracking a small smile. “That this explains why I never speak of your father, and that all this means you’re part royalty.”

Again she could only shake her head and avoid his gaze, tears welling in her eyes and scaring Seonghwa. 

“But it gets worse,” she confessed. “While I nursed both infant sons through five years, I began to notice a difference. My boy was deformed, misshapen, poor and neglected while we starved on the King’s meagre pay. The Queen’s second son was lovely, sweet, and perfect in every way. I tried so hard to move on and to just love my son but every day I saw that little prince and his beautiful face and jealousy stirred within me.” She gave him a fragile smile but her voice cracked as she went on. “So I stole him, and I raised him as my own, and now here he sits at my kitchen table when he should be sitting on a throne.”

Somewhere along the way, Seonghwa’s eyes filled with tears as well and a strange sort of calm settled on him. 

This woman was not his mother.

“Yes, Seonghwa,” came the tortured whisper. “The boy they call the second prince is my child, and you, sweet boy... are hers.”

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but not a word would leave his lips. Memories swirled around in his head.

The beautiful room where he grew up, Mother feeding and teaching him, the older boy that came and played sometimes, the smell of perfume and the taste of delicacies...

He had grown up in the palace, not just a fancier house that he had later left. That boy had been his brother and moving to another house hadn’t been a move at all... it had been a kidnapping.

Seonghwa tried to breathe through the shock, getting to his feet and going to the window, leaning on the frame for support. The distant silhouette of the palace was bold against the stars and his head began to pound from the ferocity of flowing memories.

“You know this already, don’t you?” Mother’s voice floated after him. 

But she wasn’t his mother, and everything was all wrong.

The feel of satin and the twinkle of crystals in his deepest most turbulent dreams was real. 

“Why?” He finally uttered, pure raw emotion coursing through him. “And why tell me now?”

Mother scoffed and came to stand beside him, reaching out to touch his face but thinking better of it when he flinched away.

“I was there for your first steps and your first words. I was the one who fed you, changed you, put you to sleep, taught you everything you know. Why shouldn’t I be your mother?”

“It was wrong!” Seonghwa yelled through tears, moving even farther away from her as everything unravelled— past, present, and future dashed to smithereens all around him. 

“I know!” She shot back before closing her eyes and dropping her head into her hands. “I knew even as I switched you, while I lured you away to my house and every day since when the royal family went on with their lives unknowing and I realised the consequences of what I’d done.”

Her voice was softer now, and Seonghwa clung to the hope that she was repentant, that she could set things right somehow, but she continued to speak and dash his hopes with every word.

“I’ve made a grave mistake. There I was, idolising you and wishing you were mine instead, but despite all I had already done for you, there was something I could never teach you. I had no idea how to train a prince. What I failed to realise was that even with you as my son, I could never be uplifted to a higher status or lifestyle. Swapping the two of you did nothing at all but make your life worse. My poor, sweet Seonghwa... you don’t know how to do anything.”

Seonghwa raked his hands through his hair and fought back tears even harder. He could be preparing to help lead a kingdom right now, and instead he had run wild through the city for five years behind his Mother’s back. She hardly knew him, no matter how much she had done to make him hers.

“I-I’ve failed you as a mother, thinking your perfect looks and sweet voice could survive in this harsh world of work and more work and death. You’re completely unprepared and it’s no one’s fault but my own. To be disciplined in the palace and then expected to live as a peasant... it’s wrong and I don’t know why it took me so long to confess it to you but now that I’ve told you the truth, I see only one way forward.”

Seonghwa held his breath and finally turned his head to look at her. Her face was stone cold.

“You can never be a prince again. You must learn a trade and forget where you came from.”

“What?” He cried. “And refuse everything that is rightfully mine?”

She had washed away his early years with constant lies and constant manipulation, and now she expected him to continue on as if nothing was wrong between them?

“No!” He refused. “No, I have to go to the palace, I have to see the King. Maybe my true family will recognise me, five years isn’t that long—”

“They will not,” Mother insisted without so much as an eyelash out of place. She was completely certain. “In all this time, they have never once realised that their second son is the wrong child. No matter how deformed he is, no matter how ill suited for princehood, your real parents have never so much as suspected that he was switched. Royalty spending time raising their children is simply not the custom. You have no claim to the throne, going there would be a waste of time. No, you must never visit the palace again.”

Seonghwa couldn’t believe it. With all the lies she had told him, surely this was just another, some desperate ploy to keep him from running and leaving her.

“I’m to go on living a lie then?” He asked hoarsely, feeling so very beyond his years.

“Seonghwa,” Mother sniffled and finally drew him in close. “This is your life. I love you, don’t you know?”

Out of force of habit, he let her embrace him. When the alien feeling inside grew too strong, he pulled away and walked outside, sinking onto the garden bench and trying to regain control of himself.

Mother followed him out at a distance, probably to make sure he hadn’t fled, before handing him a slice of bread left over from dinner and retreating to the house.

Seonghwa needed space to work through everything he’d just been told.

As much as he tried to hold it back, the floodgates overruled him and he ended up trying and failing to rub the wetness off his face. 

He couldn’t help but feel like his life was poisoned now.

Every feathery light kiss to heal a bloody scrape, every tune he learned to sing himself to sleep, even the knowledge that baked the bread in his hands— it all came from her.

And it seemed there was no escape.

He clutched the bread so tight it left a hand print and finally let the tears roll down his cheeks.

There was one more thing his mother could teach him.

When the candlelight in the window was snuffed out, Seonghwa peeked in to check that his mother had gone to bed and then made his way into the kitchen.

He could dig up the past or make his own way in the world. And deciding to make his own way, he began with making his own bread. He followed the recipe he’d learned the week after his birthday and kneaded all his frustrations into that dough.

The moon was obscured by the time he was done, but still feeling awake, he snuck out to Chaeyoung’s house and rapped on her window until she came out to meet him.

“What’s this?” She yawned, accepting the bread as they walked down to the fountain together.

“I just felt lonely,” Seonghwa shrugged, trying to disguise his shaking voice. He needed someone who wasn’t his mother to talk to, even if it had nothing to do with his recent discovery.

“In the middle of the night?” She laughed, taking a bite and making a sound of satisfaction. “This is still warm, did you just bake it?”

Seonghwa nodded and sat on the lip of the fountain, pulling off his shoes and dangling his feet in the water. “I couldn’t sleep,” he told her, and it was more or less true. “But I suppose Chan and Donghyun will be jealous we came here without them, won’t they?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Chan anything,” Chaeyoung snorted, brushing off the crumbs into the water and joining him. “And Donghyun is busy, remember?”

Seonghwa sighed wistfully. If only there was some master that he could impress that would sweep him away from all this confusion with Mother. “I don’t blame him,” he said quietly, sitting back to look at the stars that came in and out of focus between wisps of cloud. “We both have to grow up soon, too.”

“And will you be a baker?” Chaeyoung inquired, looking as if she wanted more bread.

“Maybe,” Seonghwa couldn’t help but smile at the way she was looking at him. “Apparently it’s one thing I can do.”

“You’re great at it,” Chaeyoung insisted and nudged him playfully. “You could probably expand your repertoire to cook as well.”

Seonghwa wanted to roll his eyes at the big word but decided to take the focus off of himself for awhile. “What will you do when you grow up?”

She was silent for awhile, looking at the faint glow that came from the palace lights.

“You know, I think it would be wonderful to be the Queen,” she decided. “Living in the lap of luxury seems much more appealing than it did last week, now that I’ve been on the palace grounds.”

Seonghwa furrowed his brow. “But I thought you wanted to be a soldier?”

“Maybe I’ll just do both,” Chaeyoung shot back, sticking her nose in the air. “Riding into battle with a crown on your head is a very glorious profession.”

Even while he laughed along, Seonghwa began to wonder if Mother had fancied herself a Queen too and the creeping thoughts brought his mood down again.

“So what is your tutor teaching you these days?” He asked as he pushed his legs back and forth through the water, making ripples that drifted lazily to the other end of the grand fountain.

In typical Chaeyoung fashion, she rambled on and on about school and her various interests and soon Seonghwa was feeling better, content to chat candidly until the pair of them became sleepy.

Eternally grateful for her unwitting encouragement, Seonghwa walked his friend home and bid her goodnight before climbing into bed himself and forgetting everything for a few hours.

The next day brought an uncomfortable atmosphere but Mother agreed to teach him to make dumplings. The next week it was streusel bread.

By age twelve he had mastered baking. Donghyun had moved away to Namhae to live and work as an artist with master Kwangsuk. Young Chan was enrolled in boarding school, and his and Chaeyoung’s father was deployed to the colonies, though she stayed behind in Doljeon to train to be a lady in waiting.

Seonghwa didn’t really know what that meant, but it was a job in the palace with the Queen that required combat knowledge for security purposes, so he approved. As much as she wanted to sneak him in to see the palace with her on days when she was working, he always refused. He didn’t need to catch any glimpses of the royal family— his family.

More and more he began to feel lonely, and when Chaeyoung was busy he had no one to talk to other than the bread. 

He decided to move on to cooking.

Mother was tired and worn down most days and by the time Seonghwa was fourteen, he had learned all of her favourite dishes and perfected them.

Days blurred together. From the moment the morning tutor left to the moment Mother returned from work, Seonghwa dropped his perfect façade and tried to be himself. He wasn’t really sure who he was now, with his honest work on one side and his shrouded lineage on the other.

Wandering the streets gave him no answers, although a cute little stray cat followed him around from time to time, and cleaning the house until it was spotless didn’t help either.

“Do you want to belong somewhere, son?"

Seonghwa looked up from his bowl of stew at the guest sitting at their table. 

His name was Mr. Hwang and he was an acquaintance of Mother’s.

“Yes,” he admitted, gauging Mother’s reaction. “It would be nice to get out of the city.”

Mr. Hwang was apparently a cooper who worked on a merchant ship, making the barrels they transported goods in. “My wife is terrified of water so she won’t join me, and I don’t know the first thing about food,” he proposed, sitting back and motioning to his empty plate in approval.

Seonghwa had cooked the lettuce wrapped fish with expensive ingredients from Kon. Only the best for Mother’s guests, because by sixteen he knew they were all apprenticeship candidates. 

Even better, he was resourceful enough to save the bones and make broth out of them, lopping any other fish remains into a spicy soup. He was the perfect candidate for a seafaring culinary position. And even better it was away from the palace, away from Doljeon, away from Mother.

“How would you like to cook for me, and learn to be a cooper as well? You’ll be able to see the world.”

That last line was dangled tantalisingly in front of him, and without a second thought, Seonghwa agreed.

When he looked out his window at the palace that night, shutting out Mother and her anxious prattling, he didn’t feel crushing doubt for once. He felt hope.

And if he had his wish, he would never see that palace again.

Chapter Text

Kon was every bit the bustling harbour town Seonghwa imagined it to be.

Mr. Hwang was dragging his trunk up the dock for him as he glanced around, doe-eyed, at all the sights of the town.

“Dread Pirate Eden still roaming free!” A young man suddenly appeared, yelling at the top of his lungs with no qualms about personal space. “Navy increases reward incentive!”

He waved a news bulletin in Seonghwa’s face, but backed off when he stumbled away, hurrying after Mr. Hwang and inquiring about the headline.

“You haven’t heard of Eden?” The man snorted, handing off some barrels to the sailors who were loading the boat. “He’s only the most infamous pirate still in business.”

Hwang motioned to the many posters with a crudely drawn illustration plastered all over the walls of buildings in every corner of the city. The man pictured looked unassuming for a pirate, but angry red script demanding his capture warned otherwise, and Seonghwa shivered before passing off his bag.

It seemed that even pirates were unlike his childhood fantasy tales made them out to be.

Just as he made ready to board the Monarch, the beautifully careened vessel he’d be living on for their supply delivery, a familiar voice broke through the noise of the harbour and stopped him in his tracks.

“Seonghwa! Wait!”

It sounded like a female voice.

Eyes widening, Seonghwa turned and ran back down the gangplank to meet the approaching woman in a hug.

It was Chaeyoung.

“How did you get here?” He laughed, impressed that she had come all the way down the river just to see him off.

“I told the driver to hurry, because my best friend is not allowed to leave without saying goodbye,” she shot back, punching him lightly in the shoulder and laughing when he pouted and rubbed the spot.

It still hurt, and more than it did when they played around as children.

“Chaeyoung, I don’t know what I’ll do without you,” Seonghwa confessed, sobering as he could sense the time of departure was nearing.

Nodding, she bit her lip and lowered her head, eyes coming to rest on the whistle around her neck.

“You know my father spends many days at sea,” she reminded him before pulling off the necklace and holding it up for him to see. “This is a boatswain’s whistle he gave me as a present. Except I’d like to give it to you... as a goodbye.”

Seonghwa’s eyes filled with tears instantly. “Chaeyoung, I can’t take this—”

“I insist!” She cut him off, placing the whistle in his palm and folding his hands over it. “You’ll get more use out of it than I will.”

“I want to see you again,” Seonghwa told her thickly, struggling through the newly formed ball in his throat.

“I hope one day you will,” Chaeyoung smiled at him sweetly, her face like the light of the moon. “But I think you’ve got a lot of exploring to do first. I’ve found my calling, and so has Donghyun. Now it’s your turn.”

Out of words to say, Seonghwa pulled her into a tight hug, grinning slightly at the fact that he finally had a few inches on her, and put the necklace on with finality.

“Say goodbye to Chan for me,” he sighed as they parted, Chaeyoung lifting her skirts to step into the carriage. “Safe travels!”

“Safe travels to you as well!” She called back, waving through the window and growing smaller as the driver urged the horses up the hill and back towards Doljeon.

Seonghwa wondered if he’d ever see her again.

“All aboard the Monarch! Weighing anchor in five minutes!”

Jolted out of his reverie, Seonghwa hurried up the gangplank and looked around the ship for Mr. Hwang.

Not seeing him anywhere on the main level, Seonghwa was about to climb the stairs to the quarterdeck and ask the man at the wheel, presumably the captain, when a hand clamped down on his shoulder and spun him around.

“Any man who is not an officer may only stand on the quarterdeck when summoned,” the intimidating sailor told him gruffly, and stuttering apologetically, Seonghwa backed away.

Just when he thought he was safe and had avoided any more embarrassment, his backwards step caused his foot to get caught in a loop of rope and bring him crashing down.

The sailors who watched him stumble all over their rigging merely snickered as he tried to untangle himself hurriedly.

“Need a hand?” Mr. Hwang finally appeared and helped the poor boy up, brushing him off and escorting him belowdecks.

“We’ll be underway any minute now,” he explained as he helped Seonghwa secure his hammock. “I’m sure you aren’t used to sharing your space, but the Monarch is made to carry cargo, not people, and all the lower ranks bunk together. My hammock will be over here if you need me.”

Seonghwa followed the man’s gesture with his eyes and nodded in acknowledgement before setting his personal bag on his hammock. There were a few odds and ends he’d brought from home to make the space feel familiar, since Mother had warned him there wouldn’t be much more than a ratty blanket on offer. The faceless pirate he’d saved from his childhood toys peeked back at him.

“This is your first time on a ship, isn’t it?” Hwang observed knowingly from the doorway.

Seonghwa sighed and affirmed it. As much as he’d dreamed about the sea during his lazy afternoons, he’d never actually laid eyes on it. And whether that would become a problem or not was unclear as of yet.

“Well, you’ll probably want to see the action then,” the older man concluded, beckoning Seonghwa back onto the main deck with him where they stood out of the way and watched the sailors make ready to leave port.

“Man the capstan!” The man from before on the quarterdeck was yelling. “Hands aloft to loose the mainsails!”

The rest of the men seemed to know what those commands meant and snapped to, some of them bringing up the anchor by the strength of their backs, and others climbing the rigging with agile ease and unfurling sails to catch the wind.

The Monarch began to move, and Seonghwa looked out over the railing as Kon began to grow smaller. It was entrancing, unlike the slow meandering carriage that had brought him there, how quickly the wind caught the sails and bore them away, like the three hundred pound sloop was weightless.

“Boom about!”

The loud yell startled Seonghwa, and he turned around just in time to see the beam underneath the mainsail swinging at full speed in his direction.

Mr. Hwang’s hand on his arm tightened and yanked him out of way, both of them continuing to duck while Seonghwa willed his heart rate to return to normal.

“Keep your eye on that thing, it can sweep you right overboard,” Hwang cautioned. “In fact, I think you’d better stay close to me, today and for your entire apprenticeship. You’ll need to learn not just the art of the cooper, but how to survive at sea. I’ll reckon it’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.”

Seonghwa swallowed nervously and nodded again, rubbing his head where the boom had almost smacked him, and hesitantly got to his feet.

A few sailors who had witnessed the whole thing were chuckling at him and his face went cherry red.

Thinking to hide away downstairs and escape yet again, Seonghwa turned back towards the hatch that led belowdecks, only to have Hwang take him by the arm again and drag him over to the stairs to the quarterdeck.

“Permission to speak with the captain?” The cooper requested formally and the burly man guarding the staircase allowed the two of them to pass.

“Good morning, Captain Bae,” Mr. Hwang greeted, nudging Seonghwa forward to be introduced. “I thought you’d like to meet the newest member of our crew, my apprentice and our cook.”

“You say you found someone to cook for us?” The captain hummed without looking up from where he studied some maps.

“Yessir,” Mr. Hwang repeated a little bit louder. “Here he is, Park Seonghwa.”

Finally the man glanced up at the pair through his wiry spectacles and reached out a hand politely.

Seonghwa shook it carefully, minding the captain’s ink stained sleeve cuffs, and peeked down at the chart he appeared to be marking.

“Well that is good news,” Captain Bae chuckled as he returned to his work. “I’m sure Hwang here told you, but old man Tak Moon has been doing the cooking the past couple of years after the previous chef was shot full of lead by pirates in the Somhae pass. You’ll want to get to know him.”

Seonghwa opened his mouth and closed it again as the words hit him full force. “After he was— pardon me, after what?”

Captain Bae laughed and slapped him on the back, inevitably leaving behind an ink trace while Seonghwa squirmed. “Nothing to be afraid of. The Navy cleared the archipelago of nearly all pirates infesting our trade routes. At any rate, they’re on the decline and we have full cargo and smooth sailing ahead of us. Say, Namgoong, did our textiles client happen to send a message along with his shipment last night?”

With the captain once again distracted and conversing with the man who guarded the quarterdeck, Seonghwa took that as his opportunity to nudge Mr. Hwang back down to the main deck to follow their orders and find this old man Tak.

The way the deck rolled underneath them was making Seonghwa dizzy, but he stiffened and struggled through back to the hatch where Hwang led him to the galley.

Pausing with his hand just above the doorknob, he turned back and flashed a halfhearted smile. “Don’t let him startle you, he likes picking on greenies.”

Seonghwa had no time to question what that meant before the door was swung open and he was greeted with a very sharp smell.

A bearded old sailor sat on the floor against a black wall, sorting through piles of cheese very studiously despite being surrounded by food of every other kind.

The galley was... unorganised to say the least.

“Who’s this? The sorry lad you found to replace me?”

Seonghwa’s polite smile faded and the sight of it made the old man cackle.

“He’s a much better cook than you are, Tak,” Mr. Hwang joked back. “But you and I both know this was a only temporary job anyway, you belong above decks.”

As he inspected the piles of food stored away, Seonghwa realised that Mr. Tak apparently only knew how to make soup. And from the looks of things, the kitchen had been on fire at least once.

“I’ll leave you to breakfast then,” Hwang concluded with a hardy slap to both their backs and headed for the door.

“Do you have any fresh fruit?” Seonghwa asked the old man hesitantly, and in response he got a mouse trap shoved in his face.

“Can’t you see I’m busy with the rats? Fresh fruit — wait until you’re stuck weeks out of the colonies with no supplies because of a tax kerfuffle! Then you’ll be wishing for fresh fruit!”

Suppressing a sigh, Seonghwa resolved to search on his own and left Tak to his tinkering. It was calming, to do something he was familiar with for once and let Mr. Hwang serve the morning meal to the crew so he didn’t have to show his face on deck again. Breakfast could have been better, but he wagered it was an improvement on whatever they’d been eating previously as he wrinkled his nose and threw himself into planning the next meal.

The entire day was consumed with cooking and planning and familiarising himself with the galley. Tak stayed out of his way for the most part, and by late evening Seonghwa was tired enough to seek refuge in his hammock, mind racing throughout the night with ideas for the rest of the week.

But of course, while he stirred his dumplings three days out, tragedy struck in the form of seasickness.

He had been feeling uncomfortable all morning, with the humid and confined space, the boat rushing upwind, the smell of the food and swirling vertigo all becoming too much to handle.

Seonghwa shouted out something about being nauseous and Tak was there to guide him upstairs to the rail of the main deck.

“Vomit to leeward!” He cautioned gruffly, steering his young charge downwind by the neck and letting him heave into the ocean waves.

Seonghwa slumped to the deck at some point, exhausted and still considerably dizzy, and let Tak drag him below again when he was sure he was done.

“I may just be an old salt, but you’re no mariner, boy,” the man clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “You’re, what, sixteen and have never been at sea?”

“He’s just the cook, there’s no reason for him to have prior knowledge about sailing,” Mr. Hwang’s voice explained from somewhere and when the room stopped spinning, Seonghwa realised they were in the hold where the bunks where. “What did you do to him, Tak Moon?”

“It wasn’t me, he’s green at the gills like I warned you he would be,” Tak defended himself in that sassy tone of voice he always used. “Now, if you’ll let me go make the landlubber some ginger tea, you can be the one to tuck him in bed.”

Seonghwa didn’t think his stomach could handle anything at all right now, but just as he bit his lip to keep from whining, the cooper crossed in front of him and blocked his route to bed.

“Hang on, let’s switch your hammock around. Fore-to-aft so you don’t feel the pitch of the ship as harshly. It’ll pass when the waters are calmer for sure, but I don’t want to eat Tak’s food for dinner tonight, so the sooner you’re on your feet again, the better.”

It was supposed to be funny but Seonghwa was too fatigued to even crack a smile and so he collapsed in his bed, swinging much less violently than it was before Hwang moved it, and squeezed his eyes shut.

Time passed unnaturally quickly, because when he opened them again, the teacup sitting next to him had grown cold and night had fallen.

Closing his eyes for a time had improved his condition considerably, but the presence of so many men snoring in their hammocks made Seonghwa slightly claustrophobic again, so he took his tea and tiptoed to the kitchen, warming it over the fire and drinking it quickly.

Glancing at the corner, he wrinkled his nose at the presence of rats caught in the traps, but noticed another stinky scent, not from the rodents or the accumulated cheese.

Following his nose took him to the lower decks, where the quartermaster Namgoong was consoling the agitated livestock.

In the past few days, Seonghwa had learned that the intimidating officer who guarded the quarterdeck was actually much more soft and compassionate on the inside than he had anticipated.

Though he maintained his gruff appearance with the crew, he had a special affection for the animals, even knowing they were likely to be slaughtered for meat when they reached their destination.

“They don’t like rough weather either,” Seonghwa observed quietly, and the other man turned his head in surprise, not expecting to see him.

“No, it makes them uneasy. Feeling better?”

The boy ducked his head as nervousness took over again but nodded while Namgoong was looking on.

“I think so...”

The sailor made a knowing sound and gave the cattle a final pat before turning to face him.

“Half of overcoming seasickness is mental. Just tell yourself you’re fine and you will be.”

“Right,” Seonghwa sighed. “It still won’t help save my life if I do fall overboard. I can’t swim well enough.”

“You don’t know how to swim?” Namgoong whispered back, shocked, before snorting and leading his charge back to the hold. “Well, that’s your first order of business when we reach our port of call, then. Off to bed now.”

Seonghwa didn’t put up a fight, ready to melt away his exhaustion again, and when he awoke the next morning, all his remedies seemed to have paid off.

The Monarch sailed smoothly for the rest of her short journey, and by the date their shipment was due they had docked on the archipelago and unloaded successfully.

While some of the more business-minded crew dealt with the sales and negotiations, Seonghwa found himself a free stretch of public beach on the island where they’d docked, Namhae, and under the ever watchful eye of Mr. Hwang, practiced his swimming.

He had appointed himself as a guardian (or else Mother had appointed him herself) and took it upon himself to teach the swimming lesson personally, showcasing various strokes and techniques and sternly warning Seonghwa against ever jumping overboard before realising the day had gone and going into town to find them an inn.

It was comfortable around Hwang. Seonghwa hesitated to think of him as a father figure, but couldn’t help but enjoy having him there. He taught him the kinds of things fathers usually taught their sons, and where Seonghwa’s mother had left off, he picked up smoothly and naturally.

Sometimes Seonghwa found himself wishing Mr. Hwang was his father, not the mysterious king who lived far away in the palace and wouldn’t even recognise him, but he stopped his thinking and rolled over in bed to face the wall.

The sea offered freedom, there was no reason to tether himself to someone when his focus should be the escape that seeing the world could offer.

The remainder of deliveries along the archipelago and the return trip were relatively uneventful, but their arrival at Kon found Seonghwa dressed and ready to go and embark on another voyage to some more distant place, nervously pacing at the door by the time Hwang appeared for breakfast, and the older man sat him down and chuckled at him before explaining, “We’ll be called back when we have another job and not a moment sooner. That’s just the nature of shore leave.”

Harvest was just around the corner, and the crew was permitted to celebrate with their families. It left the question of what Seonghwa ought to do when Hwang’s carriage came to bring him back to Doljeon, where his wife and daughters waited.

“Would you like us to drop you off at Lina’s?” Mr. Hwang yelled, sticking his head out the window and catching the gaze of a very anxious Seonghwa, standing on the dock with his things piled up awkwardly in his hands again.

“Yes, please!” He exclaimed, relieved, before loading up and sliding into a seat.

Fireworks were shooting off ahead, lighting up the sky in an explosively dazzling celebration while the town danced and sang, and the colours that streaked down were mesmerising.

Deep down, Seonghwa hoped it would bode well on his reunion with Mother.

He was wrong.

Seonghwa believed his first short sailing trip had already changed him, but from the moment he walked in the door only to be encased like a glass sculpture in her arms, he knew she didn’t see it that way.

“Still so fragile. I thought you would at least have more of a tan...” she sighed into his coat as she squeezed him in a hug.

“Mother, I will, it’s just that it’s only been a short trip, not to mention the weather.”

Mr. Hwang saw the storm clouds gathering between them and tipped his hat in farewell.

It quickly became apparent why Mother had allowed this arrangement in the first place. She hoped Seonghwa would not be up to the task after all, changing his mind and remaining in Doljeon with her once he’d tasted hardship. She thought life at sea would ultimately return him home, not separate him from her further.

It was a losing battle, but she fought and clawed hard over dinner while they stared each other down and didn’t touch the harvest feast Seonghwa had cooked in an angry blur.

Mother had no choice but to reveal her true intentions when he had deflected every concern expertly and the frankness of it all was nauseating.

“No, I’m sorry, but I don’t think sailing is right for you. I mean, what if you fall overboard? You can’t even swim.”

“But Mr. Hwang actually taught me while we were in Namhae—”

“Then there’s the matter of your pay, it’s quite low,” Mother shot back. “Are you not working enough to match their expectations? I’m sorry, this is all my fault to have left you incapable—”

“Mother, that’s enough!” Seonghwa finally snapped, standing from the table and throwing down his napkin. “How can you expect me to be thriving when you’ve given me so little time? I haven’t even started helping with the cooper business yet, can’t you wait for the revenue to come in before making your judgment?”

“Seonghwa, dear—”

“No!” He burst out in a scream that shook the windows. “I’ve had enough! I am not weak and helpless, I’m learning and discovering myself. You already destroyed my life when you stole me, you have no right to meddle in it now. If you won’t give me a say in my own future, just stay away from me!”

Shocked to be scorned so completely, Mother didn’t even move from her chair as Seonghwa ran from the house in tears.

He had never been sure of what he wanted, but at the moment he knew without question that he wanted to be away from her.

It had all just been another plot to manipulate him into self-doubt and self-hatred, to persuade him to choose to remain in her control, when in reality it had backfired to disastrous proportions.

Seonghwa had somewhere to go now, for however long he could.

He wouldn’t see that woman again.

Chapter Text

The oil lamp needed trimming. No one else in the hold was awake to do the job, and Seonghwa knew Captain Bae hated seeing wax on the deck, so he rose from his hammock to take care of it.

It was sometime just after midnight on his seventeenth birthday and they were anchored at Tae Gyungkaai.

Business had been doing well since Seonghwa returned to the sea and joined the Monarch on its latest supply runs to the colonies and back.

Mr. Hwang seemed to know what had taken place between him and his mother without ever being told, and wisely refrained from mentioning it, content to take the boy under his wing regardless and teach him his cooper arts.

They would be setting out for Kon again at first light and another hiatus would begin— Seonghwa’s most dreaded times.

Now that he had cut his ties, he had nowhere to go.

Hwang had suggested he find some others his age, but the only apprentices he’d encountered in Kon were either too good for him or too suspicious, either budding naval officers or the lurking, unsavoury type.

No matter how lonely he got, he wouldn’t turn to a pirate for company. They couldn’t be trusted.

Seonghwa realised as he swung there in his hammock that he needed to confront himself about whether or not lack of companionship was the root of the issue.

Perhaps he needed more than just friends, perhaps he needed some adventure as well.

Everything was very routine on the Monarch, and Seonghwa appreciated how organised the profession was, but there was something missing from the waters they navigated back and forth across constantly.

The unknown.

There was a shade of that feeling growing in him when he woke the next morning to a thick fog surrounding them on their journey north.

Seonghwa abandoned scrubbing the inevitable wax spot for the main deck, where he watched with baited breath as Captain Bae decided what to do.

They’d raised anchor no more than thirty minutes ago and sailed right into the mist, with only the faint beacon of the lighthouse indicating where the end of the peninsula was.

If they weren’t careful, they’d run aground and sink on the reef.

Slowly, the Monarch advanced through the fog and Seonghwa held his breath.

“Sail to starboard!” The man in the crow’s nest alerted them, hissing through his teeth so as not alert whoever it was that was rapidly gaining on them.

“What’s going on?” A loud voice came from behind and Seonghwa quickly turned to hush him, realising it was a groggy Mr. Hwang, rising from bed when he noticed the strange quiet over the deck.

“Jolly Roger, sir!” Another call came from the rigging and Seonghwa’s blood went cold.

Pirates.

Mr. Hwang was immediately pulling on his arm, trying to get him to return belowdecks where it was presumably more safe, but Seonghwa evaded his grip and hurried to the quarterdeck to hear the captain’s plan.

“We have a better chance passing them and hoping the scum haven’t spotted us yet than we do on those rocks,” the man was saying as he rubbed his temples harshly.

“But sir, we’ve only the stern chaser to fend them off with,” Quartermaster Namgoong argued back, serving as the helmsman currently as the man with the most blind sailing expertise. “They outgun us… to a ridiculous extent.”

“But they don’t know that!” Seonghwa yelled up from where he stood, and when the captain regarded him curiously, he saw himself up to the quarterdeck. “We still have a better chance if we follow the beam from the lighthouse and lose them around the north coast of peninsula.”

“Not if the light exposes us,” Namgoong played devil’s advocate yet again. “Then any secrecy we may still have will be gone.”

“So if they fire on us then, we use the stern chaser,” Captain Bae picked up on Seonghwa’s idea quickly. “Then we put as much distance between us as we can and hope they leave us alone, assuming we have more guns than we do.”

“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, lad,” Namgoong hummed, giving him an encouraging back pat. “Let’s just hope this works.”

The entire company remained silent while the Monarch sailed onward into the fog.

The quiet that descended over them as heavily as the cloud was unbroken save for the creaking of the boat, hauntingly moaning in protest as they advanced.

Seonghwa kept his eyes trained on the distant light that was growing nearer and tried not to think about the mysterious pirate ship behind them.

“Hug the coast,” Captain Bae cautioned Namgoong as he began turning a few points to the port side. “They won’t dare follow us all the way to Kon, they’d be shredded by the shore batteries.”

Gradually, the fog began to thin. The heat of the light was evaporating it more the closer they got, and as they turned inland, rounding the edge of the peninsula, the ship behind them didn’t alter course.

It looked as if the pirates had never even been pursuing them as they continued north, a safe distance from shore should they pass Kon on their way.

“They let us go…” Seonghwa realised as he glanced around the illuminated Monarch. “But why?”

“It appears they are on a journey of their own and had no interest in us,” Bae supplied, keeping a shrewd eye on the departing pirates and handing Namgoong his spyglass to catch sight of the inscription on the enemy’s hull. “What does it say?”

Namgoong squinted through the glass before lowering it and taking in a shaky breath. “It’s the Stardust. And it was headed northwest, in the direction of Panhang most likely.”

“Panhang?” Mr. Hwang repeated, confused. “Why?”

It was a question no one save the pirates themselves could answer, and it bothered Seonghwa for the entire rest of the day.

Hwang found him in the stern angrily assembling a barrel that evening, and settled in for a chat about the issue.

“As soon as we make landfall the authorities will be notified, no worries,” he rambled on casually while he inspected the apprentice’s work. “That Eden was seen moving north is valuable information.”

“That’s not it,” Seonghwa sighed as he leaned back and wiped the sweat from his face. “It’s the fact they were going to Panhang. Why there, of all places?”

Hwang hummed and stacked the barrel with some others, silently signalling his approval of the craftsmanship. “True, it’s not a known pirate hideout. Unless they’re in the mines somewhere, which is unlikely because those mines are actively maintained by the Kim family of Jangwon.”

“And otherwise, it’s a trip out of their way with no clear purpose,” Seonghwa added, forlorn.

“Either way, son, it’s not our business to discover why and track them down,” Hwang reminded him as one of the sailors, Ryeo Yongsun, arrived to transfer goods to the new barrels. “For all we know they could have turned starboard to the archipelago at the last moment. Pirates aren’t the most predictable types.”

“Wonderful!” Yongsun cheered as he uncorked a barrel of his own and let the rum inside flow into Seonghwa’s freshly made one. “A new cushion for the most treasured golden liquid in all the Earth!”

His overdramatic bearing made Seonghwa break into a smile subconsciously, and he tried to relax and put the morning’s events out of his mind for now.

“Do you always talk like that?” He snorted when Yongsun went on and on with praise for the leakproof barrel.

The man either ignored or didn’t hear him, too occupied with excitedly gathering the free sailors around for a drink.

“Don’t think we forgot your birthday, lad!” Mr. Hwang chuckled, grabbing him around the shoulders and sitting him down to have cake placed in front of him and a dozen riotous men singing their rowdiest tune in his ears.

Seonghwa only managed a couple sips of the alcohol before deciding firmly that it wasn’t for him and trying to sneak away while Hwang and Yongsun argued about which wine they should get him to try instead.

The galley was nicely peaceful and quiet and there would be many dishes that needed washing by the end of the night, especially if the men had gone and made a mess in there to prepare for this surprise.

Old Tak Moon was already there, frying himself some fish leisurely and avoiding the party as well, and he had the sense to leave Seonghwa to his musings when he was done.

He was trying to enjoy himself and be thankful for his senior crew members’ efforts on the behalf of their “baby” but the future hung over his head and the mysteries in his dreams plagued him until they reached Kon.

Harp music was playing from somewhere, a classical piece well known and beloved in the palace, and he was on a blanket in the garden with his older brother the prince until torrential rain poured down from the heavens and the nightmare ended in sweat and shivering.

Even on a ship having left behind his old life, the truth of the past haunted him.

Again, Seonghwa was left with nothing to do when the merchant business went on hiatus until their next delivery.

Out of habit, he made his way to the capital and wandered to his old childhood home.

It was as if ten years had gone by instead of one when he saw the overgrown grass and boarded up windows.

“Excuse me,” he asked the neighbour who was painting his fence across the street. “I wanted to ask about the woman who lived here less than a year ago. Her name was Lina... Do you happen to know where she went?”

The man frowned at the house and shook his head. “She must have left in the night, secretly. No one here has heard from her since before winter.”

Seonghwa tried not to be upset as he thanked the man and walked around to the back garden, where he had once sat and cried at what Mother confessed to him.

There was a fogged up bottle tucked under the bench with a note inside. Without needing to ask if it was for him, Seonghwa shattered the glass and poked through the shards for the curled up paper.

“He will know you by your scar” it read, and there was no need to wonder who it referred to.

Seonghwa lifted a hand to the small white mark just under his hairline. He thought once he had been born with the blemish, but Lina told him differently.

It was his only physical connection to who he really was, the second prince who had been dropped once as a baby by his eager older brother, a secret only the three of them knew.

Seonghwa tossed the strip of paper into the nearest street lantern to burn and walked away from that cursed place. If this was Mother’s way of making reparations in her hasty departure, it wasn’t nearly good enough.

Even if he had been returning with the intention to stay with her, it would’ve been impossible with the woman gone.

She sent him away too, in the end. She had stolen him for his pretty face and when she realised there was no more value in him, she packed up and disappeared.

There was a tightness in his empty chest that choked him up inside with solitude and reminded him that he had to find his path on his own now.

The only road he saw as he returned to the docks that day was the friendly Mr. Hwang waving at him from the Monarch and beckoning him home.

He was to be a cooper’s apprentice and then a cooper himself one day, and he would have to come to terms with that reality.

The flashes of his opulent past in fragmented memory were to be forgotten completely.

Seonghwa never should have remembered them.

…

It wasn’t until the next summer that life on the seas began to change.

Seonghwa was eighteen, and though he had grown in many ways, his social circle and aspirations hadn’t.

Hwang ran a quaint business on shore during the off seasons and offered Seonghwa a place that he refused, content with his pleasant room rented at the inn with his regular income on days when he wasn’t in his hammock on the Monarch.

Like every other young man his age, he wanted independence and the ability to sustain himself but didn’t know how to branch out with so few connections.

At eighteen, he was living a life of so many paradoxes that it seemed like folly to even attempt to let anyone get to know him.

That, and the fact that he didn’t know what he wanted beyond a peaceful life and a view of the ocean.

The summer was hot and uncomfortable just like the previous year’s, and though Seonghwa didn’t know why all the major events always seemed to take place in the summer, he was the first to snatch up the news bulletin when he heard the cry through the streets of Kon; the Dread Pirate Eden was sunk and piracy was dead.

Seonghwa thought it a tad theatrical as a headline, but as the unsettling quiet of autumn moved in, he realised it was true.

No other ships would dare to cause trouble as brazenly as the Stardust, especially with the Navy’s power on the rise.

The very Stardust he’d seen fly north through the fog was at the bottom of the sea, and the Navy had caught on to the dread pirate at Panhang no less.

There was still no explanation what he was doing there beyond glowing testimonials from several lieutenants of Admiral Kim’s swift action in pursuing Eden, so Seonghwa put it out of his mind while he brought out the nice plates and laid the sailors a proper meal for the occasion.

“Come on, Seonghwa, m’boy!” Jeom Dongyul whined as he thrust an empty cup at him. “Will you not offer us a celebratory tot of rum?”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes and brought all the mugs he could hold back to the galley for Tak to fill with whatever alcoholic beverage the men were clamouring for now.

He still refused to drink any himself, having seen its effects on the already feisty crew members, and was even careful to avoid handling it, as if any contact with such a beverage could somehow addle him.

“Coconut cream and pineapple juice have been mixed in to sweeten it further for you,” Tak Moon announced as he brought out the remaining drinks and passed them around the cheering men, bowing exaggeratedly before taking a seat and a swig himself.

Seonghwa may be the favourite in all other food related tasks, but Old Man Tak Moon had him beat when it came to liquid gold, as some of the men called it.

“A toast! To fewer thorns in our sides,” came a rousing voice from the back of the room.

Bok Junghwa— the newest hire, but still older than Seonghwa, keeping him in his spot as the youngest and most innocent, though the latter position was completely by choice.

Smiling fondly at their enthusiasm, the apprentice raised his water glass and clinked it against Hwang’s.

To fewer thorns indeed, he thought to himself, ready for an easier workload.

No pirates meant no roundabout trade routes and no midnight watches, shorter voyages and more expensive cargo, and safer seas to enjoy and make money on.

But it only lasted another year, because piracy was not so dead after all.

A nineteen year old Seonghwa found himself pacing the decks in the dark on a midnight watch before finishing his shift and collapsing at the table with some of the other men, who were drunk and useless for a completely different reason.

They were scared.

It only took one threat to send the Monarch back into a defensive position, and it wasn’t even a threat they’d encountered themselves.

Six different ships at the merchant’s symposium at the beginning of autumn had reported being attacked by this new pirate.

Six ships in different trade routes, all of them since the equinox.

The new contender was motivated and he was fast .

“Merely eighteen, they say,” Kim Jinho was muttering as he nursed a mug and fiddled with his money pouch. He nodded in Seonghwa’s direction. “Almost the same age as you.”

He didn’t have to ask who the sailor was talking about before Dongyul supplied a name for him.

“The Pirate King.”

Seonghwa’s eyes narrowed and he sat back and crossed his arms. It didn’t make much sense as an alias, at least not to his reasoning. “Why do they call him that?”

What right did anyone other than his own distant father have to be proclaimed king?

“Because if anyone could reunite the fragmented horde of buccaneers that remain, it would be him,” Junghwa shrugged helplessly.

No wonder everyone in the maritime market was worried about the pirate.

“Who is he?”

Namgoong’s voice answered from behind as he approached, sending a chill down Seonghwa’s spine. “No one really knows. We only have eyewitness reports, and those range considerably.”

Yongsun spoke as if possessed, his eyes fixed on the handle of his cup as he recounted some of their stories, a true old salt.

“They say his soul is made of fire. He hides his burning heart underneath an icy skin,” he paused to craft another metaphor before continuing. “His every edge, every angle is sharp and deadly, like a frost bitten sword. He chases the wind but battles the waves.”

Seonghwa was wrapped up in the vivid tale and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Why?”

“Because he is twice-stricken by the sea,” Yongsun suddenly met his eyes and held the gaze as he took a gulp of rum and brushed his arm over his mouth. “She took everything he loved from him, over and over again. Why else?”

Seonghwa sat back again, his chair creaking and breaking the spell.

“That’s a lot of information from a few so-called eyewitnesses,” he scoffed before turning to a hitherto silent Mr. Hwang. But then again, Seonghwa hadn’t been present at the meeting. He’d been eyeing the weapons shipment they were delivering. “Does Yongsun always speak in verse or just when he’s drunk?”

“Always,” the older man grinned as he refilled glasses around the table. “Haven’t you been paying attention?”

Seonghwa couldn’t help but crack a defeated smile as the men laughed at him and ruffled his hair. They loved few things more than drinking and teasing him, and he could hardly complain.

The next evening found him on watch again, but this time Captain Bae pulled him aside beforehand with some extra instructions.

“Be sure to get a high vantage point and scan the surroundings before you finish,” he warned with a sigh. “Mr. Bok’s shift is after yours but he injured his leg and won’t be able to climb to the crow’s nest tonight.”

His orders were technically somewhat vague, and being afraid of heights, Seonghwa wasn’t keen on going up there alone with the wind battering him, so he rationalised his avoidance by picking apart the man’s words and creating his own definition of a “high vantage point.”

Glancing up into the sails, he imagined scaling the rigging and falling to his death and shivered.

No, he didn’t need to go up there. The quarterdeck was high enough to suffice and he saw nothing.

The bell signalling the end of his watch clanged gently and Seonghwa exhaled a shaking breath.

Everything was fine. No Pirate King was hunting them, and the shipment would be delivered safely as usual.

As he settled into his hammock and pulled his blanket tight around him, he didn’t know of the silent ship following just out of range.

They were being watched for the perfect opportunity, and he had just given it to them.

Chapter Text

First came the sound of singing. Seonghwa was belowdecks and the clouds blocked out the moon, so only the steadily growing song was an indicator they were not alone.

He thought for a moment it was another of his dreams, one where he and his brother the prince lay in luxury while dulcet tunes were strummed nearby but the beat of a singular drum dissipated the fantasy, joined by chanting voices that sent Seonghwa bolt upright in his hammock.

“Pirates,” he whispered softly in horror, scrambling to stuff his feet into his boots and look out the porthole window, freezing in place at what he saw.

A small schooner fully furnished with cannons at every gunport, bedecked in black sails and bearing on them at terrifying speed.

“P-Pirates! We’re being attacked! Everyone—”

Tripping over his own sleepy limbs and the natural pitch of the Monarch, Seonghwa didn’t even make it to the hallway before the enemy ship fired a warning shot and yells broke out around him in the hold and on the main deck.

Seonghwa continued to lay where he had fallen for a moment as all the other sailors leapt from their beds and hurried out, stricken with fear as he realised what had happened.

They were being boarded.

“All hands lay aft!” A voice bellowed, not one Seonghwa recognised, clearly threatening the entire company of the ship if they did not show their faces above-decks.

The only option was to hide.

Hoping the pirates would assume all the men had done as commanded and assembled topside, he crawled into a dark corner and held his breath, concealed by the shadow of his own empty hammock.

It was difficult to tell from the sounds above him how many attackers there were, but Seonghwa rifled through his belongings for any weapons with shaking fingers, praying he wouldn’t have to use them.

A pocket knife Yongsun had gifted him once was all he came up with, but he clung to it and kept his eyes on the doorway.

Seonghwa could do this. He was tough, he’d spent a few years on the sea, and he wasn’t afraid of any pirate that came through that door.

A minute passed. Then two.

And finally, just when Seonghwa had started to wonder if he really had been left alone down there, footsteps echoed from the hallway and a figure entered the hold.

At first, he wasn’t sure he was looking at a pirate because the blond young man certainly wasn’t any taller than he was, and moved confidently through the space like he owned it, not like an intruder.

Still, Seonghwa didn’t dare breathe as the pirate moved further into the room, stopped in the middle and then suddenly turned to face him.

“Oh, there you are,” he said casually with an almost pleasant lilt before leaping at him.

Anticipating such an attack, Seonghwa dodged to the right and stumbled to his feet, making a beeline for the door until his exit was blocked by the immediately recovered pirate.

Setting his jaw, he swung the knife. It was his only chance of winning the fight, to wound or be wounded, kill or be killed.

Unimpressed, the pirate caught his hand, disarmed him instantly, and flipped him over.

Busy trying to recover the wind knocked out of his lungs, Seonghwa didn’t bother resisting when the pirate pinned him to the floor, instead squeezing his eyes shut and wishing his death would be painless.

But the pirate had other plans.

He planted the knife an inch from his head and laughed.

“You’re not going easy on me I hope.”

Realising he was not about to be murdered, Seonghwa blinked his eyes open and growled through clenched teeth, “Who are you and what do you want?”

Suddenly so close to him, Seonghwa realised how young the pirate looked. His hair was a bit scruffy, but he was otherwise clean and well-dressed, and his sharp features were quite delicate for the split second the moonlight shone on him.

Such an innocent image was a stark contrast with the blade stabbed into the boards next to him.

“You’ll figure that out soon enough,” the pirate answered, hauling Seonghwa to his feet and pushing him onto the main deck where everyone else was assembled.

It was a scene straight out of one of his nightmares.

Namgoong, Yongsun, Dongyul, Junghwa, Jinho, Tak Moon, and Mr. Hwang were on their knees, clustered together with all the other men.

Captain Bae was farther up the quarterdeck, evidently tied to a chair and gagged, but unharmed.

“At least you’re alright,” Hwang whispered, shaking as he pulled Seonghwa close and turned his face from side to side to be sure no injury had befallen him.

Under the strict supervision of a tall blue-haired pirate, the men helplessly watched their goods be rolled away and transferred to the pirate ship. They mercifully left enough food for a journey back to shore, but anything of worth, even the empty barrels, was carted away for their use.

Efficiently and silently, they returned to their own vessel and the tall pirate turned to whisper something to the smaller, golden-haired pirate who had captured Seonghwa. The tall one met his eyes for a moment before finishing the hushed conversation and departing with the goods.

“Alright, I have a proposition,” the last pirate announced with an air of authority. Somehow, he must be the captain. Which meant he was also the Pirate King. Seonghwa went rigid as he looked directly at him. “Cook for us and I won’t hang you from the yardarm.”

Seonghwa paled and glanced back at the other sailors. Either way, this was the last time he’d ever see them.

“Seonghwa...” Mr. Hwang whimpered sorrowfully, trying to hang onto him as he got to his feet.

The pirate captain had grown impatient as all his other men had finished crossing the short distance between ships and making ready to depart.

Jumping onto the railing, he clutched a rope extended from his own ship, intending to swing back over.

“Seonghwa is it?” Now he had drawn his gun and was gesturing with it. “If you’ll kindly come with me.”

Despite the civility of those words, he clearly had no choice in the matter, so Seonghwa took a shaky step forward before Mr. Hwang threw himself in front of him.

“N-No, you can’t take him, you don’t understand,” the man cried. “He’s the secret second prince, he’s in line for the throne, I promised I would—”

“Is that so?” The pirate captain smirked, grabbing Seonghwa and suddenly pulling him forward. “Hang on then, Your Highness.”

Before Seonghwa had a chance to wriggle away, they flew into the air and he had no choice but to cling on for dear life.

Despite his initial terror, for a moment of weightlessly swinging in mid-air, he had to admit it was... fun.

All too soon, they hit the deck of the pirate ship, the pirate landing much more gracefully than Seonghwa, and the panic set in once more.

He was being kidnapped.

“Make sure our guest is comfortable, Yujin,” the captain was saying as he secured the line they’d just swung over on, directing his words to a scruffy looking pirate with a bandana in his hair. “Mingi, is everything secured?”

“Yessir,” the tall blue haired pirate responded, climbing up the rigging of the mainmast. “Just keeping a lookout to make sure they don’t follow.”

Already men were hurrying to get the ship underway, and as the scruffy pirate approached him to lead him below, Seonghwa panicked.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” he resisted, reaching down into the pirate’s holster in a sudden flash of movement and grabbing his gun.

Now that he was armed, he had a chance of escaping.

“Give that back now, nice and easy,” Yujin growled, recovering quickly but signalling to the others on the main deck to let him handle it.

Despite having no idea how to fire the thing, Seonghwa’s last ditch effort of a bluff was working well enough that no one dared restrain him.

“Come on, hand it over!” Yujin raised his voice, capturing the captain’s attention from where he stood at the helm and prompting Seonghwa to fire off a distraction shot.

If he could just get them to look away a moment, he could jump overboard, swim back to the Monarch, and hope the pirate ship didn’t think him worthy of a second kidnapping.

Having squeezed his eyes shut at the loud noise and puff of smoke that came from the weapon, Seonghwa wrenched them open again just in time to see the blue haired pirate— Mingi, the captain had called him— tumble out of the rigging and land in a heap on the deck.

The sickening crack of bones froze Seonghwa in place and, plan instantly abandoned, he could do no more than watch as the gathered pirates ran to Mingi’s side and checked for life.

Did I shoot him? Seonghwa didn’t dare ask it out loud, trying to rationalise that surely the pirate was shocked by the gun going off and fell accidentally.

“He’s breathing but wounded!” The cry came up from the huddle and Seonghwa relaxed, dropping the gun and nearly melting into the floorboards alongside it.

Hearing footsteps, the prisoner turned and nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of the Pirate King inches from his face.

He had no time to run before the captain was yanking him close. “Congratulations,” he seethed between angry hot puffs of air. “Now you’re on my bad side.”

Dragging him down to the brig personally with a strong grip on his arm, the pirate didn’t need to speak another word, and when he was locked up and left to his own devices, Seonghwa finally allowed himself to shatter.

How had he gone from sleeping peacefully in his hammock to shivering in the dungeon of a pirate ship?

Uncontrollable tears began gathering in his eyes as he hugged his knees and huddled in the corner. The floor was slightly damp but thankfully insulated and not swamped with bilge water. The single lantern swinging on the other side of the bars was the only source of light for Seonghwa to latch onto.

He had no idea what would happen to him now, at the mercy of a vengeful pirate, so icy cold despite his comparatively small size and youthful energy, on a ship that could probably outrun the Navy’s best flagship if he wanted it to.

And if the ship was taken by the Black Crow, Seonghwa would probably be slaughtered alongside the unlucky pirates, unless by some miracle Mr. Hwang was there to speak for him.

Mr. Hwang…

The closest thing Seonghwa had to a father, reduced to grovelling before a man half his age.

And the pirate captain had laughed in his face when he’d revealed Seonghwa’s secret identity.

Would his treatment of him change if he believed Hwang’s desperate words? Would he respect him as royalty or project a lifetime of hatred onto him?

Amidst his bleak thoughts, fatigue tickled the back of his mind and, unable to help himself, he gave in and fell asleep on the floor of the cell.

It was the sound of a scream that woke him and sent him, startled, to his feet, leery of being tortured horribly or taken advantage of somehow.

Seonghwa had no idea who was screaming somewhere above him, but he didn’t want to be next.

Quickly checking himself for anything that could be used as a weapon, he came up with only Chaeyoung’s boatswain whistle, and it wasn’t even particularly sharp.

Footsteps were approaching, so he tucked it under his nightshirt and pressed against the wall, vigilant eyes on the approaching pirate.

He was tall, tattooed, and a pair of necklaces glittered on his chest that Seonghwa couldn’t help but wonder the origins of.

Piracy could be lucrative at times after all.

“Captain has summoned you to the infirmary.”

Seonghwa inhaled sharply and pressed himself even farther into the wall. The last thing he wanted to do right now was join the captain in the infirmary.

“ Now, ” the pirate insisted, unlocking the cell door and holding it open for him.

With rigid steps, Seonghwa moved out into the open, careful to keep a safe distance between him and the pirate as they moved up a deck and travelled down a cramped hallway. From the view through the portholes it still appeared to be night, but the soreness in Seonghwa’s neck told him he’d been asleep for a while.

The pirate stopped when they reached the room, opening the door and nudging Seonghwa through before stepping in behind and closing them in.

It was a poor excuse for an infirmary, hardly more than a pair of table-like beds, a cabinet of medicines and a few water basins.

Chairs were littered in between the other furniture, and the captain was in one of them, though he rose when his prisoner entered.

He’d shed his black coat but the rest of his ensemble was black as well— shirt, pants, boots and all. He, too, was in possession of more than a fair bit of jewellery, especially the silver dangling from his ears and, to Seonghwa’s dismay, didn’t remove his high waisted weapon-loaded belt even in private.

Mingi, on the other hand, had been removed from his vest and boots and lay, trembling, on the bed next to his captain, clinging to him and looking almost feverish as he shook with pain. The scream from earlier must have been his.

Seonghwa found his voice before either of them had a chance to address him.

“Let me go at once, pirate. I swear, I’ll see you swing from the end of the hangman’s rope for your crimes if you don’t—”

“Shut up,” the captain interrupted succinctly. “You’re going nowhere until you fix what you did. You want to talk about crimes? Look at him. You broke his back.”

Seonghwa paused and returned his gaze to Mingi, noticing the lack of a gunshot wound.

“…I didn’t shoot him?”

He didn’t mean to say it aloud, but it came out in a relieved exhale nonetheless.

He wasn’t a murderer. He wasn’t like the pirates who had captured him.

The captain shook his head, whether in answer or frustration Seonghwa didn’t know.

Before he could explain, Mingi whimpered from the bed and the captain hurried back to his side, squeezing his hand and whispering something Seonghwa couldn’t hear.

The tenderness of such a scene between ruthless pirates made him uncomfortable, so he cleared his throat and glanced around the makeshift room again.

“Oh, I see,” Seonghwa scoffed. “Not much of an infirmary but you have a fully functioning jail cell. How many of your crew are similarly indebted to you? I’m not the only one you’ve kidnapped, am I?”

Again, the captain ignored his accusations, not even looking away from Mingi’s face, contorted with pain as it was.

“He won’t let go of me, so I need you to brew a basic painkiller medicine,” he ordered, and now it made sense to Seonghwa why he’d been needed. “Bone broth, cinnamon, there should be other herbs, roots, and vegetables, barley if we have it—”

“I know how to make it,” Seonghwa cut him off brusquely. “Just show me to the food stores.”

The apprentice reminded himself as he searched the small pantry for supplies and ingredients that he was only doing this because he was threatened, not because he cared that his firing a gun had startled a pirate into falling and breaking his back.

Mingi probably deserved to have his back broken, with kidnapping at the very least on the list of his crimes as a pirate.

But there was something so calming and familiar about throwing together what was essentially a summer stew that his tense shoulders began to relax of their own accord even with the tattooed pirate watching him closely.

“Where are all the knives?” Seonghwa muttered, exasperated, as he searched the drawers for them.

Surely the pirates didn’t eat their chicken like wild animals, ripping off limbs instead of just slicing them apart neatly with a kitchen knife.

The tattooed pirate was laughing at him from atop a rum barrel, only explaining after Seonghwa had glared at him in warning, “Do you think I’m daft? Why would I hand a prisoner a weapon?”

“Because I need it to make the stew,”  Seonghwa gritted out, annoyed, waiting for the pirate to make up his mind.

“Fine,” he muttered, unsheathing a knife at his waist and holding it out.

“Not that one, I don’t know where it’s been!” Seonghwa exclaimed in horror, backing away from the thing. “It probably still has blood on it, go find a kitchen knife.”

“Hey,” the pirate growled low, thankfully returning the knife to its place. “You don’t give the orders. Captain does.”

Regardless, he left the room a moment and returned with a different knife, one Seonghwa would have to hope was used exclusively for cooking.

As the pirate handed it to him, he simultaneously drew his gun and pressed it to the prisoner’s head. “Go on,” he shrugged, indicating the cutting board still full of ingredients. “If you try anything, it’ll be bad news for Captain to have lost his cook so soon.”

Holding his breath, Seonghwa mechanically went about his business, hyper aware of the weapon pressed against his hair and wishing now that he’d just been satisfied with ripping the meat apart by hand.

His chopping passed without incident, and when he was finished, Seonghwa slid the sharp blade over the counter to the pirate, who removed the gun and went off to hide the knife again.

The soup smelled good and awakened Seonghwa’s own hunger, but he resisted sneaking a bite while the pirate’s eyes were on him and instead followed him back to the infirmary, tray in hand.

To his surprise, both the patient and the captain were asleep, the latter bent forward halfway out of the chair and into Mingi’s lap.

Seonghwa caught sight of a flash of skin from the way the captain’s clothes bunched around his sleeping form, and a web of scars was etched into his back. There was deep history there, between the Pirate King and whoever had done this to him, and while it didn’t tell him much, it gave him a very bad feeling.

It was dangerous, and Seonghwa didn’t like it one bit.

The tattooed pirate cleared his throat loudly and that was all it took to wake the captain, who hurriedly tucked his shirt back in and stood to greet them.

“Thank you, Hanbyeol,” he dismissed the tattooed pirate and took the tray from Seonghwa, leaving him to stand there awkwardly and watch his attempts to wake Mingi.

“Is this a... normal sleeping arrangement?”

He was actually starting to miss the solitude of the brig.

“No, I have my own space,” the pirate answered after a moment, leaving the food on Mingi’s lap and rubbing his hand until he awoke.

“Of course, a captain’s cabin,” Seonghwa muttered, imagining an ornate room overflowing with treasure in one of the decks above them.

The captain finally turned to give him a shrewd glance. “I’m not the best sleeper, it’s for his own good. Help me sit him up.”

Obeying, Seonghwa crossed to the other side of the bed and the two carefully moved Mingi’s torso into an upright position so he could eat, easing their pace when he let out a hiss of pain.

No further words were spoken as the captain helped bring spoonfuls to his mouth and Seonghwa sank into the chair behind him, waiting for the moment he was dismissed or ordered to do something else.

It was like he wasn’t even there.

“Remember when you said you’d have my back, Hongjoong hyung?” Mingi chuckled hoarsely in between bites.

Seonghwa sat up and paid attention.

So that was the captain’s name. Hongjoong.

“Yes, I didn’t mean it like this,” Hongjoong snorted, tilting the last bit of broth into Mingi’s mouth. “Now that we put your spine back into place, you should recover. But I’m starting to think we should have prioritised finding a doctor over finding a cook.”

Mingi hummed and smacked his lips to get the last taste of stew off of them. “I for one am glad you prioritised the cook.”

Seonghwa hid his smile at the compliment by turning away, but was addressed by the captain just after wiping it off his face.

“Help me lay him down again?”

It was posed more of a question than a command, but Seonghwa took no notice of it, simply helping slide Mingi back down again and watching his eyes drift shut.

“Come with me,” Hongjoong whispered when it was safe for him to let go of Mingi’s hand without waking him.

Wordless, Seonghwa followed the captain back out into the hall and tried to suppress his fear that something horrible would be done to him now that he’d served his purpose.

He kept his face a mask of indignation the entire walk back to the main deck and into the galley, tucked away as it was beneath the forecastle.

“How did you even know I can cook?” Seonghwa couldn’t help but ask out of pure curiosity when they reached the galley.

“Mingi got it out of that merchant captain, Bae I think it was,” Hongjoong recounted, securing a hammock in between two posts in the corner of the room. “He gave you up fairly easily.”

Stunned, Seonghwa thought back to seeing Captain Bae tied up at the helm. Surely the pirate was lying, he wouldn’t have sacrificed Seonghwa freely, he must have been intimidated or threatened into saying it.

There was no retort on his lips as he watched Hongjoong toss a blanket into the hammock and nudge him over to it.

“This is where you’ll stay. For now, you’re confined to quarters. Try to spread a fire and I’ll kill you.”

Despite his light tone, he showed no indication of joking about the last remark and moved to lock the door behind him.

Seonghwa caught it on his hand and pushed it open again, panicking. “You didn’t kill anyone when you boarded the Monarch,” he pointed out, trying to rationalise that surely the pirate wouldn’t murder him in cold blood.

“No, why?” Hongjoong sighed, irritated by Seonghwa’s constant questions. “Would you like us to go back and take care of someone for you?”

“No, no, not at all, please .” The prisoner nearly bit his tongue as punishment for allowing a plea meant for the pirate to leave his lips. “I just mean, you pirates are purveyors of bloodshed. I may not yet know the reason you left them unharmed, but if I discover you’ve placed some type of explosive—”

“Your Highness, forgive me for interrupting, but if you’re quite finished?”

Seonghwa glowered at him in response.

“We don’t care for pointless bloodshed; it’s messy and cruel and easy to get lost in. We’re just making a living, same as you,” Hongjoong insisted, advocating for the humanity of pirates in a speech so typical Seonghwa should have predicted it. “It doesn’t matter that we know how to use our weapons. The fact that we have them seems to be enough to scare you merchants into giving us what we want already.”

Seonghwa’s vision went red with fury. “You filthy—”

“I will kill you if I must, Seonghwa.” The Pirate King told him tiredly, clearly at the end of his rope if he had the audacity to use Seonghwa’s name. “But it would cost me a trip back to shore to pick up a decent cook and I can live with your glaring and muttering. Give me your worst, go ahead.”

When all Seonghwa came up with was a few angry splutters, the pirate smiled sardonically and began to pull the door shut again.

“That’s what I thought. Goodnight!”

Quiet settled like a blanket with his absence.

There was only Seonghwa’s heavy breathing as he did a once over of the room again.

Apart from some seasonings, all the food was stored elsewhere in the lowest deck, so he would have no chance to steal from it if they locked him in to starve. Pots and pans might double as weapons if need be, but starting a fire was a last resort.

Hongjoong had been very clear about that.

He threatened to kill him. Seonghwa had no doubt that he could. He had seen the savage glint in his dark eyes and wondered how the same person could be so charming and personable. Yongsun’s words came back to him, that the Pirate King really did have some barbarous side of himself concealed inside, only to be released when allowed to wreak havoc.

Hongjoong said bloodshed was easy to get lost in. Seonghwa was becoming curious as to why.

Despite promising himself he’d stay up the remainder of the night and look for solutions to escape, he found himself opening his eyes to a new morning a few hours after dawn.

A knock at the door dragged him up from the hammock he’d resolved not to sleep in earlier, the way it swung just too familiar to resist, fore-to-aft the way his hammock on the Monarch had been hung.

Rubbing his eyes and opening the door, Seonghwa was met once again with the sight of a tall, half-dressed pirate, this one with a hat haphazardly thrown onto his unruly hair, holding out a pile of clothes to him.

“Who are you?” He muttered, not taking the offering but working though the morning fog over his mind to remember that he had been captured and was prisoner in the galley of a pirate ship.

“Dooeun,” the man answered simply, depositing the clothes in Seonghwa’s arms  insistently. “Captain says get dressed and start breakfast.”

“Are these his?” Seonghwa asked incredulously, unfolding and inspecting them.

It was a pair of boots, simple trousers, and one of those low cut lace up shirts the pirates seemed to like.

“No, they’re Quartermaster Mingi’s,” Dooeun snorted like it was obvious. “It was concluded his size would fit you best. Hurry up and change, the other men are hungry.”

Seonghwa shooed him out and did as he was told, thankful at least he wouldn’t be stifled under a coat in this heat like the officers of the Monarch always insisted on. If there was any type of decorum to uphold in their attire, the pirates clearly chose not to.

Dooeun gave a teasing whistle and chuckled when Seonghwa emerged, embarrassed. “The prince looking the part of a pirate. How cute.”

Nostrils flaring, Seonghwa bit back a retort and followed the pirate to the pantry once more.

Again as he prepared the meal, he did so under strict supervision, Dooeun watching him closely even as he cleaned a stack of weapons from atop his perch, the rum barrel.

Not having seen the company of the ship gathered in one place, Seonghwa wasn’t sure how much to make.

He stood, biting his lips nervously, as Dooeun spooned out portions for each person who came through the line and the supply of oatmeal slowly dwindled.

A sizable group of young boys came through together, and while he was relieved that they ate less than most of the grown men, Seonghwa was simultaneously horrified to see them present on a pirate ship.

Noticing his expression, Dooeun let out an amused snort and turned to face him even as the food dripped off his spoon. “What’s wrong? Never seen a powder monkey before?”

“But those are just children,” Seonghwa protested, crossing his arms and hugging himself to send the chills away. “How can you put them in danger like that?”

But then of course, it was the lawless captain who was responsible.

Dooeun narrowed his eyes at him, tilting his head slightly in disbelief. “The same way every ship in the Navy does, only these boys had a choice. Just how sheltered were you, Your Majesty?”

“I— well, it wasn’t like that,” Seonghwa began defending himself before realising he didn’t owe a pirate of all people an explanation of how he grew up. “When is the captain coming?”

He was ready for the meal to be done and tired of negotiating with the common crew.

Dooeun glanced outside to take notice of the sun’s position before answering, “It’s nearing the end of his watch currently. But he always eats last, try to serve him and he’ll send you back to feed Mingi first.”

“Mingi!” Seonghwa had nearly forgotten that the quartermaster was likely in need of more tonic for the pain. “Hurry, make him a bowl and I’ll start on the medicine.”

The process was much faster the second time around now that Seonghwa had an idea where things were, and Dooeun didn’t trouble him as he stirred the stew and added it to Mingi’s tray.

Seonghwa was made to carry it down a couple of decks to the infirmary and did so, disgruntled, almost dropping all the contents when he stepped in to see Mingi awake and in animated conversation with the captain.

“Dooeun, are you allergic to knocking?” Hongjoong sighed as they barged in, Seonghwa almost dropping the tray on the maps spread over Mingi’s blankets that the pair had been poring over.

“Leave off him, hyung, he brought food!” Mingi gasped, beaming as he accepted the offering so that even the captain softened and put the work away.

“Seonghwa, I almost didn’t recognise you,” Hongjoong commented, breaking Seonghwa out of the moment and reminding him to stop making sure Mingi was eating well and start looking for escape routes.

“Want me to change him back into his nightgown?” Dooeun supplied, dodging when Seonghwa threw an elbow at his ribs and then restraining him from further movement.

“No, he’s not a doll,” the captain scolded. “We’ll set aside a few more outfits of Mingi’s if he doesn’t mind.”

Mingi shrugged instantly. “Gives me an excuse to buy some more in town.”

Wondering what town they were referring to, Seonghwa spared a glance to the maps Hongjoong was looking at again.

They must be nearing land.

“I miss eggs,” the quartermaster sighed as he spooned some oats into his mouth.

“In order to have eggs, we need chickens,” Hongjoong reminded him.

“Let’s add them to the list,” Mingi suggested with a pout, apparently hoping it would have some effect on his vicious captain.

Mingi didn’t seem so vicious himself, but then again, he was confined abed with a healing spine.

“Very well. A new mast and gunpowder for me and a new outfit and a brood of chickens for you,” Hongjoong concluded, folding up the map and meeting Seonghwa’s eyes a moment before flicking them over to his captor. “Put some clothes on Dooeun, we’re going ashore.”

“What about him?” Dooeun asked, reluctant to release his tight grip on Seonghwa.

“We could establish a guard rotation,” Mingi pointed out, handing him the empty tray. “Hojun can watch him for luncheon, Gyuwook for dinner, Jaeoh for breakfast tomorrow and so on.”

Hongjoong nodded his agreement and added, “He should, however, have a few hours of exercise on deck every day just like the rest of you. Action isn’t guaranteed.”

Seonghwa nearly choked at the implication that combat was merely a source of physical fitness, deathly sport that kept the crew prepared should they need to be.

He didn’t appreciate being discussed so candidly as if he wasn’t in the room, and he especially didn’t appreciate the possibility that he might be forced into combat.

Again his eyes found the map and searched for a way out of this nightmare. The peninsula was scribbled on, so he guessed Tae Gyungkaai would be their destination.

“We saved your plate for last again captain, but there’s still enough for a good portion,” Dooeun was saying, and Hongjoong stood to help Mingi lay down painlessly before joining them in the hall.

“Fetch Hojun if you would,” the captain requested, and Dooeun finally relaxed his grip on the prisoner. “I’ll take our guest back to the galley and eat there. It won’t be long, so make sure the other hands are ready to switch tacks.”

Glad to be free of Dooeun, Seonghwa nonetheless kept his distance from Hongjoong while they returned to the galley.

True to his word, he finished his meal quickly, not leaving a bite uneaten as if it was his last.

Seonghwa had begun on the dirty dishes, certain he’d be ordered to finish cleaning them by luncheon anyway, and took the captain’s bowl wordlessly, ready to be alone with his thoughts for the first time today.

“Well done,” Hongjoong approved succinctly. “We should have suet in our stores tomorrow if you want something else to thicken it with.”

And with that, he made for the door and turned his back on the prisoner.

It was the best chance Seonghwa had.

Just as he had drawn Yujin’s gun on him last night, he leapt forward and pulled Hongjoong’s out of its holster, aiming it at the back of his head for no more than half a second before his legs were swept from under him and the weapon knocked out of his hands.

He hit the ground face first and was immediately pinned to the floorboards, Hongjoong’s looming presence behind him and the pressure of a foot on his back. If he stepped down a little harder, he could fracture Seonghwa’s bones as Seonghwa had done to Mingi.

Suddenly he was staring death in the face with his eyes closed and praying he wouldn’t be vengeful.

And yet the fear pervading his senses, striking him to his core, was not that his life was about to end, but that he hadn’t lived a life worth mourning.

“Can you swim, Seonghwa?” That low voice threatened in his ear, feigning curiosity but taunting in its aloofness.

Heart racing, he shook his head. Perhaps he could use this incident to his advantage and lead the captain to underestimate him.

“Then think ahead past the hallway next time you try to escape,” Hongjoong scoffed. “Unless you’d rather sleep with the fishes.”

Eyes blurring with angry tears, Seonghwa refused the hand that bent down to help him up and lashed out verbally even as he backed away.

“You’re insane, do you know that? You, pirate captain— I don’t care what your name is— need to realise that there is something seriously wrong with you. Turn this sorry excuse for a ship around before it’s too late and return to whatever nightmare your life was before you turned my life into a nightmare.”

Out of breath and choking back sobs, he curled into a ball and didn’t look to see what the captain thought of his nervous breakdown.

By the time Seonghwa dried his eyes, the door was closed and he was alone.

It didn’t make things any better.

The men were singing as they worked, changing the position of the sails to speed them to Tae Gyungkaai. It was a song he’d heard aboard the Monarch and he couldn’t help but hum along to himself shakily.

But he would be locked up and anchored outside a busy harbour, just close enough to see freedom but not to taste it.

Only able to entertain his doubts now that he was alone, the prisoner grappled with the question that had been plaguing him all morning.

If he managed to escape, what then?

Seonghwa couldn’t even ask to go home, because he wasn’t sure he ever had one.

And that was what scared him the most.