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Jongin can’t believe it has come to this, that he’s managed to get here. He takes a deep breath as he looks around the empty fighting arena, the white sand reflecting the sun, almost glinting from where he’s standing. His feet keep sinking into it—maybe it’s his anxiety weighing him down, although, his chest plate seems like a safer bet.
Sehun enters the arena with his sword held tightly in his hands, he’s clearly not used to this type of combat. The prince’s expression stays blank as the knight approaches. Jongin notices the white arrows sticking out of his quiver—the prince is an archer, not a swordsman, but it doesn’t matter today. Whether he likes it or not, he will have to use his sword.
They stare at each other for what feels like minutes—it’s several seconds at most.
The first blow is dealt by Jongin, their weapons clashing. Sehun backs off and swings his sword like a whip, forcing Jongin to spin as he doges. He panics when the prince dashes, the look in his eyes ruthless, and teleports to the furthest point of the arena.
A jolt goes through his entire body when his knees touch the ground, the sand feels rough to the touch as Jongin tries to stand up, his left arm supported by the sword impaled into the ground. The weapon seems much heavier now like the fall has added a few kilograms to it. He doesn’t see Sehun aim his bow, he only hears the arrow traveling in the air.
Sehun never misses.
Teleporting two times in a row without a break is a bad idea, Jongin knows this, but he’ll do anything to make the fight believable. This time he lands on his feet, his right arm extended and the tip of his sword touching Sehun’s chin. He’s panting now, the sweat running down his temples and staining his tongue with its salty taste.
“You’re cute,” Sehun says, snapping his fingers and making the sand around them rise up, obscuring Jongin’s vision. The prince draws his second weapon.
Jongin loses his balance when he blocks Sehun’s blow, his feet sinking into the unsteady ground, in a desperate attempt to save himself he leans forward, grabbing his opponent’s leg and making them fall at the same time. As Jongin pins him down, Sehun looks around, realizing that his sword is out of reach.
“This arena is designed for you to win,” he hisses into Sehun’s ear.
“I thought you liked a challenge.” The prince smirks, using his upper-body strength to roll them around. “Make an effort, Nini, we have to look convincing.” His sweat drips onto Jongin’s face.
They roll around in the sand, their limbs intertwined as if this was a much more intimate moment between two lovers—in a sense it is.
“The things I do for you,” Jongin spats out before teleporting only about a meter away—he’s so fucking tired, his whole body shaking.
He reaches for his buried in the sand sword, the blade covered in dust, as he stands up. Sehun attacks immediately, their blades clashing and making Jongin’s knees buckle.
It's so hard to think logically, to strategize when you're almost blacking out due to exhaustion. In any of the previous fights he never had to use his power, but Sehun likes to make a show out of everything.
Jongin swings his weapon, his arms feeling heavy. Sehun doges, stepping closer to the wall and grapples Jongin’s arm, his fingers digging into the material of his shirt.
"Give up," he mouths at Sehun, biting the inside of his cheek.
"Make me."
Fucking brat. Jongin can't believe he'd won three fights, so far, to get mouthed off like this.
The prince brings their foreheads together. “Hit me. I’ll let go.”
“I won’t hit you!”
“You’re such a baby.” Sehun headbutts him, making Jongin see a burst of light.
He reels backward, wipes the sweat off his forehead, and charges toward Sehun. Jongin pushes him against the wall, the sword held horizontally against the prince’s neck. Sehun doesn’t even flinch when the blade lightly touches his skin, drops of blood staining the cold metal. It’s over—Sehun lost.
“You let me win,” Jongin accuses him, tasting the dust hovering in the air.
Sehun laughs. “I can spit on you to make it more believable, I know you’d like that.”
***
Jongin glances at the tall collar of Sehun’s shirt, obscuring the light cut on his neck, as he takes a sip from his wine glass—he hates banquets, but they’ve become an inevitable part of his routine since…
“We won,” Sehun says, making him lose his train of thought, the golden mica on his cheekbones glinting as he moves.
“You lost.”
“No, I won, because we are engaged now. That’s what I wanted.” Sehun smiles.
Jongin can’t believe that Sehun managed to convince him to do this—to take part in a tournament, fight all of the candidates, fight the love of his life, only to get humbled by not being able to beat him in the end. He, a knight, got beaten by an archer.
“Can you… unbutton your collar?” Jongin asks, walking over to Sehun, still holding his glass of wine.
Sehun brushes against his neck and starts touching each button like they are precious gems in a crown. Jongin caresses the cut, kisses every centimeter of Sehun’s skin that was tainted by him during the fight.
The prince wanted this, he wanted for men and women to compete for his hand. Jongin still feels apologetic for what he had to do, for hurting him. Before the fight began he told himself he’d rather lose than hurt Sehun—he didn’t keep his word.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, love,” he says softly. “Now when I become the king, you’ll stay by my side. Not as a knight, protecting me, but as a consort—an equal.”