Archive of Our Own

House of Cards

Seonghwa can’t say he has very clear memories of his childhood. At least, not until the rebellion truly threatened the world he lived in. Until then, he’d never bothered to find out about the blank swathe of memory in his mind. His parents and grandparents were all very picky about talking about his past, so Seonghwa never asked. He lived his life as a young, privileged, little boy, ignoring how the other children seemed to keep away from him. That was just the way things were and Seonghwa had long-since accepted it. It’s not that big of a deal, right?

However, when Seonghwa is seven years old he and his family flee Ifan, leaving everything behind. Seonghwa himself is too young to understand - the young man who rallied the crowd seemed quite nice. He doesn’t understand how the rebellion will steal the Park family fortune and how his parents and grandparents have decided that starting anew is better than seeing their once great riches go to those in need. So, Seonghwa is loaded up into a carriage with his mother and grandmother while his father and other, Alpha grandmother follow. They have little more than the clothes on their backs and the coins in their pockets - they’d fled the capital a day before and hadn’t had any time to pack their things. 

“Eomonie,” Seonghwa says softly, “where are we going?” 

“South,” his mother says, her tone choppy and annoyed. Seonghwa cowers back a bit and looks at his feet, averting his eyes from the two women in the carriage. It’s far from what he’s used to - this carriage rocks and shakes and goes over every bump in the road, or so Seonghwa’s convinced himself. He’s much more used to smooth, easy rides over stone-paved city streets. 

Seonghwa doesn’t know it yet, but he won’t be returning to Ifan for the next fifteen years. 

His family struggles a lot. They travel through Ifan until they reach the docks, then proceed to take a boat down to Aestrath. And just like that, Seonghwa leaves everything behind. 

Life is hard in Aestrath. No one in Seonghwa’s family is used to living on nearly no money at all, and it isn’t long before his mother contracts some sort of illness. It doesn’t help either that most of the townspeople dislike them because of how snotty and stuck-up they act. Seonghwa struggles to connect with the other village children, unsure of how to act around them in a friendly way. His father complains as often as he has to change jobs, and he continues to do so until he finally gets a job shoveling manure that keeps him far from his employer. Both of Seonghwa’s grandparents threaten to kick him out should he keep complaining and losing his job, so Seonghwa supposes that’s what has to do with it. 

Another problem is that the temples here are scarce. The Ifanian pantheon is nearly exclusive to, well, Ifanians , so Seonghwa’s parents, especially his Alpha grandmother, struggle to adapt. In Aestrath, Seonghwa often hears phrases like, “Stars above!” or other things connected to astronomy that, to him, don’t often make sense. 

He’s very, very thankful for when a certain librarian takes a liking to him and helps enroll him in a wealthy private school. There, Seonghwa meets Choi San. 

San is . . . different from the others, to say the least. He’s loud and he doesn’t care for any sort of normalcy. But San is also from a rich, influential family, with his Alpha father as a powerful official and his Omega father as a well-known aristocrat. San’s life is laid out for him - he’s destined for success. 

But, well, there’s one problem. 

“There,” San says, ten and a year younger than Seonghwa. He points at the boy stumbling across the field, skirts clutched in his hands as he moves. “Him.” 

“San-ah,” Seonghwa says, “he’s-”

“A scullery maid? A servant? A lowborn? Don’t worry, I know, Hyung,” he says, sighing. Seonghwa looks worriedly over at him as San’s shoulders slump and he watches the Omega rush around, long black hair tied in a little ponytail at the back of his head. 

“Have you . . . spoken to him yet? At all?” Seonghwa says, hoping to change the subject. San sighs and rests his chin on his hand, shaking his head no. 

“Father would get him fired or worse if he saw,” he says. He sighs again and shakes his head. “Honestly, watching him like this is already dangerous enough. Once we’re caught, it’s over for him. And maybe you too.” 

Seonghwa stiffens and nods, then they walk off. They go their separate ways and Seonghwa chews on his lower lip as he sits through his classes, working diligently and quietly. His lack of status has made him an outsider - a black sheep if you will. Few other children seek Seonghwa out, though he doesn’t see it as a problem. He’s perfectly content to sit back and watch from the sidelines. 

Yet, as Seonghwa gets older and presents as an Alpha, that grows harder. Like everyone else, Seonghwa changes as he ages. His jawline is more defined and his eyes, once so soft and nervous, become sharp and cold as raw diamonds. His features are accentuated and Seonghwa begins to push for respect in the world he lives in, growing intolerant of anything less than such. He’s tall and lithe, body wrought with sinewy muscle. Seonghwa rises to the top of his class, getting all of the best scores. Of course, life isn’t a bed of roses as Seonghwa, at eighteen, is cut off by his family. Which, for Seonghwa, is fine. He was never close with his parents or grandparents, and San volunteers his own home. Seonghwa blends right in, easily falling into place with the Chois. 

But Seonghwa cannot, unfortunately, live off of them. So, he begins to work. San tries to help him as much as possible but such is difficult when his own father is pressing him to begin his own career. Seonghwa doesn’t mind - in his opinion, San’s already done too much for him. 

Seonghwa is content, though. He blends in with the elite despite not qualifying for such a title himself, and he’s rather popular among the townspeople. He builds himself a reputation as a smart and cold person, closed-off and emotionally distant. For some reason, it seems to attract more Omegas into asking for his assistance during their heats. And, well, Seonghwa could make quite a pretty penny off of it, so, sometimes, he does, in fact, say yes. His job as an assistant to some sort of office worker (Seonghwa isn’t quite sure. All he knows is that he absolutely despises having ink all over his hands.) isn’t enough to keep him sustained since Seonghwa eats far more than average, and, with the growing rebellion, rent is getting more expensive. 

But really, those are all minor inconveniences that Seonghwa can overcome. And he does. Seonghwa is smart - he didn’t get all of those good grades for nothing, after all - and he knows how to work around things. He’s good at shifting and changing to work with his situation. 

Or, at least, he thought he was. Because on a warm night at a party San’s dragged him to so he can make googly-eyes at Wooyoung, Seonghwa’s entire life begins to crumble. 

“Come on, Hyung,” San groans, tugging on his wrist. Seonghwa huffs at him and scowls, shaking his head. He adjusts the cuffs of his shirt and then checks his earrings, arching an eyebrow at his reflection. San groans again before grabbing him and dragging him out of the dressing room, shaking his head. 

“Hey!”

“You were taking too long,” San says, shrugging. Seonghwa huffs again and shakes his head. 

“I do hope you know that not all of us have fortunes to inherit and need to marry rich,” he says as they walk. San laughs and shakes his head as they board the carriage. 

“Sure, sure,” he says. Seonghwa rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. It isn’t long, though, before the silence becomes too much and Seonghwa decides to speak. 

“How is he?” he says. San shrugs. 

“You do know we’re no-we aren’t, like, in a relationship, right?” he says. Seonghwa hums. 

“I know you wish you were. He still doesn’t know, though?” 

San shakes his head, leaning against the side of the carriage and looking out with a pair of puppy eyes. Seonghwa shakes his head at him. San and Wooyoung’s romance has been embarrassingly slow-paced. San is too scared to say anything while Wooyoung seems to be totally oblivious to the Alpha’s affections despite receiving multiple gifts from him. Then again, San had them all delivered anonymously. 

“I’m thinking about running away to Ifan,” San says softly so only they can hear it. Seonghwa jerks in his seat and he looks over at the other man, arching an eyebrow as he sits back and crosses his legs. 

“Ifan?” he says. He frowns. “How do you ever plan on getting there? Being a stowaway, perhaps? Not to be cruel, but we both know you aren’t exactly the most subtle.” 

San scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest, pouting and looking away from the older. 

“I’m plenty subtle when I want to be,” he grumbles. Seonghwa snorts and San looks over at him, indignant and offended. “What? It’s been years and Wooyoung still doesn’t know I like him!” 

Seonghwa chokes on his saliva as he laughs loudly, bending over. 

“Oh my gods, that’s because Wooyoung is totally oblivious !” he says. San gasps loudly as Seonghwa continues to cackle, not stopping until the carriage does. 

“What’s the point of this party anyway?” he says as they get out and walk toward the doors of the manor. San looks around before cupping his hand around his mouth. 

“The host is Kim Hongjoong,” he whispers. “He got married but his husband went down south to stop the growing rebellion. He’s gotten bored without him.” 

Seonghwa huffs. 

“Scandalous,” he drawls. San laughs as they get in, the smells of the rich hitting Seonghwa like a punch to the face. His nose twitches and San, once again, laughs. 

“Oh, San, Seonghwa-Hyung!” a familiar voice says. Seonghwa looks over at Yunho as the Alpha makes his way toward them, a grin on his face. 

“Good evening,” Seonghwa says, bowing. Yunho laughs and shakes his head, waving his hands. 

“Ah, there’s no need for that, is there?” he says. “We’re friends and you’re older, that feels weird.” 

“Do I have to bow?” San says. Yunho snorts and rolls his eyes, shaking his head at him. 

“Because of that, yes, yes, you do,” he says teasingly. San gasps and drapes himself over Seonghwa, earning himself a shove from the older. Neither Seonghwa nor Yunho fail to notice how his eyes scan the crowd. 

“Is he here?” he whispers. 

Yunho shakes his head, chewing on his lower lip. “Mother sent him out to go and gather water from the well. One of the stable boys blamed him for spilling the other barrel.” 

“Did he?” Seonghwa says. Yunho shakes his head, scoffing. 

“Haven’t you seen how terrified he is of getting in trouble?” he says. He shakes his head again. “No, Wooyoung could never. Not after he saw another Omega get her tongue cut out for gossiping.” 

“Stars, I despise that,” San says. Yunho nods in agreement while Seonghwa’s eyes scan the crowd. They’re not the only bachelors here; Seonghwa counts several Alphas, mateless and searching for Omegas to court. There’s a small band playing, though people have yet to begin any sort of dancing. Seonghwa adjusts his suit jacket and tugs at his collar, feeling a bit uncomfortable. The suit he’s wearing is awfully itchy and tight, though that might just be because he’s not used to it. San and Yunho and every other party guest in clothes like his own look perfectly fine. 

“Where is your brother?” San asks Yunho. The Alpha frowns and cranes his neck, looking around curiously. 

“Hmm, I - oh, there he is,” he says, pointing at a young man in the crowd. Jongho’s hair is styled and parted in the front. Like the other Alphas, he’s dressed in a suit. He’s chatting boredly with another man, though he seems to be completely silent while the other male blabbers on and on. 

“He doesn’t exactly look pleased to be here,” Seonghwa says. Yunho snorts. 

“Mother made him come,” Yunho says. He takes a sip from his glass, watching his brother. “You know how she is. She’s quite certain that he’ll end up alone should he continue being the way he is.” 

“How’s your father?” San says. Yunho shrugs. 

“Still working with the guards,” he says. He takes another sip of whatever’s in his cup. “Still ignoring us.”

“Is the tall one still his favorite?” Seonghwa asks. 

“You mean Mingi? Of course, when is he not?” he says and they all laugh, though it’s quite forced. None of them want to be at the party, that much is obvious. 

“Where’s the host?” Seonghwa says, still trying to make small talk because he doesn’t know what else to do. “I must see the general’s own husband throwing a party without him.” 

“Oh, he’s really not as whorish as he seems,” Yunho says, laughing. “He’s just bored. You do know that Genera Chang is in his fifties.” 

Seonghwa hums. 

“I suppose I do,” he says, eying the crowd. “But where is this Kim Hongjoong?” 

Yunho and San both laugh. 

“You’ll know it when you see him, don’t worry, Hyung,” San says. Seonghwa snorts and shakes his head. 

“I do hope you aren’t alluding to any sort of affair I may be a part of in the future,” Seonghwa says. San laughs. 

“No, no, no, though one cannot deny that you’ve bedded plenty of people,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. Seonghwa gasps, pretending to be scandalized. Really, though, is San wrong? But it’s not exactly his fault that there have been plenty of offers. San’s had a few too and Seonghwa’s seen him agree to some, though he’s never been able to fully take his eyes off of Wooyoung. It’s as sad as it is interesting. 

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Seonghwa says, a playful bite in his tone. San laughs and waves as he walks off, most certainly to go and find Wooyoung. 

“Well, I’ll be off,” Yunho says, waving at Seonghwa and leaving the man to wander through the ballroom of sorts. General Chang has money - all of those “war heroes” do. Seonghwa can admit that his house is nice. It’s quite embellished, what with its marble floors covered in heavily-embroidered silk rugs and the flickering candles that hang from the chandeliers. There are large, gorgeous paintings that sit on the walls, and Seonghwa recognizes the general himself in a few of them. Though he has yet to see any of his mysterious husband. 

Seonghwa sighs, shaking his head as he begins to wander. He hears the whispers and giggles that follow him like a shadow, though Seonghwa likes to pride himself on his ability to ignore them. He walks through the crowd and chats with the people who reach out, never initiating anything himself. Seonghwa isn’t very interested in such things. 

However, the moment his eyes land on a certain someone, Seonghwa begins to wonder if there’ll be an exception. He’s quite short, his black hair in delicate ringlets that frame his face. His features are quite pixie-ish and, if Seonghwa didn’t know better, then he might mistake him for one of the fae folk. His gown is made of wine-red satin, off-shoulder with a skirt that trails behind him. A ruby necklace rests on his collarbones while earrings that match peek out from his hair. Yet Seonghwa can’t focus on any of his clothing, though he doubts he’s supposed to - the man clearly wants to draw attention to his physical features, such as his itty-bitty waist that Seonghwa is quite certain he could fit his hands around and have the tips of his fingers touching. His lips are painted a scarlet that matches that of his dress, his eyes dusted with silver. His skin is nearly the same color as ivory, a small dark mole on the right side of his neck. It looks like a chocolate chip floating in a glass of milk and Seonghwa’s stupid, primal, Alpha brain wonders if it tastes the same. 

He almost slaps himself and shakes his head, frowning at himself. How lewd. 

Seonghwa sighs and wanders over to San, finding the Alpha easily with how he’s moping. 

“I know you miss Wooyoung, but who on earth is that?” he demands, grabbing his friend by the wrist and pointing in the direction of the pretty Omega. San, still quite mopey because of Wooyoung’s absence but perking up a little because Seonghwa’s interested in someone, cranes his neck and looks around until he spots him. A mischievous grin spreads across his face. 

“That?” he says. “Oh, well that’s just Kim Hongjoong, the host. You should go and say hi, Hyung.” 

Seonghwa scoffs, though he finds he’s unable to take his eyes off the man. He isn’t the only one, either, though a primal part of Seonghwa despises that and demands that he goes and claims the pretty Omega as his own. 

He waits, though, until people begin to flock toward the dancefloor. Then, Seonghwa begins meandering through the crowd, toward Hongjoong. 

“Would it bother you if I asked for a dance?” Seonghwa says, bowing and holding his hand out. Hongjoong looks over and Seonghwa peers up at him through his eyelashes, curious. The man arches an eyebrow and puts his fan away, his hand landing in Seonghwa’s. It’s quite small. 

“I suppose not,” he says as Seonghwa straightens and places his hand on his hip, smiling at him as they begin to waltz. Hongjoong’s own smile is coy, pretty eyes sparkling beneath the lights as they begin to dance. He’s gorgeous, really, and Seonghwa can feel the jealous stares of the other partygoers crawling all over them. 

And, for some reason, he couldn’t care less. Something about Hongjoong is enchanting, from the curl of his lips to the well-hidden but still quite seductive look in his eyes. Seonghwa is tempted to laugh at him because he acts as if Seonghwa is some mere amateur to this game they’re playing. He moves his hand down from the Alpha’s shoulder and squeezes his bicep, looking up at him from under his lashes. Seonghwa arches an eyebrow. Already? 

Oh, if only Hongjoong knew that Seonghwa always wins. In retaliation, the hand he has on his waist moves to his hip and Seonghwa watches him curiously, fingers stretching out to run up and down his spine. Hongjoong releases a quiet little gasp, his brown eyes widening as he looks up at Seonghwa. 

“You’re a wonderful dancer,” Seonghwa says, having leaned in to whisper. His breath ghosts over the shell of Hongjoong’s ear and he catches a heavy whiff of blueberry pie from him, his nose twitching. His hand moves up until he’s running it up and down Hongjoong’s back, nails grazing the line of his corset. 

“Th-thank you,” Hongjoong stutters out. Seonghwa smirks and steps back, winking at him. Hongjoong gapes before shutting his mouth and then he moves the hand on Seonghwa’s bicep to play with the hair at the base of his neck. His nails, though well-trimmed, feel quite pleasant as they run over his skin.

“Are you here with anyone?” Hongjoong asks him as they continue to dance. Seonghwa snorts and shakes his head. 

“Oh, Gods, no,” he says. His eyes dart over to San, though the other Alpha is nowhere to be found. “My friend brought me.” 

Hongjoong’s scent sours and his playful little smile turns into a heavy scowl. 

“Who is this friend of which you speak?” he says. Seonghwa laughs and leans forward, pressing his body closer to Hongjoong’s. 

“Jealous?” he whispers. 

Hongjoong looks up at him. 

INCEPTION | Piano Cover by Pianella Piano

“Only in your dreams,” he says softly, just as he’s whisked away. Seonghwa feels a stab of disbelief and he’d laugh if he didn’t have anyone to dance with. He watches Hongjoong flirt with his own partner, and his jealousy is conquered by his disbelief. Well, two can play that game, right?

Seonghwa finds it funny, really, how he and Hongjoong seem to have all of the best cards. He finds it funny that he still can’t manage to guess Hongjoong’s next move and vice versa. Seonghwa finds this whole ordeal quite hilarious if he’s being honest - Hongjoong is, after all, a married man and Seonghwa is still making eyes at him in his house where his husband could return to any minute. 

Seonghwa is a fool. 

He laughs to himself as he stands out in the gardens, hiding in the shade of the cape myrtle tree. The moon sits high in the sky and a stray breeze ruffles his hair, tugging at his clothes as it rushes by. 

“Why, fancy meeting you here,” a voice says from behind him. Seonghwa feels a smile tickling the corners of his lips as he turns around, schooling his expression and arching an eyebrow. 

“Hello there,” he says. Hongjoong flashes him a flirty smile as he walks over, standing beside him. 

“Don’t you like the party?” Hongjoong says, tilting his head curiously as he leans against the stone fence. Seonghwa hums and shrugs his shoulders.

“I’ve never been the biggest fan of parties in general,” he says. Hongjoong hums back, beginning to drum his nails on the stone. Seonghwa arches an eyebrow at him. 

“Do you enjoy it?” Hongjoong says softly, curiously. 

Seonghwa frowns at him. 

“What?” he says. Hongjoong looks over. 

“Do you enjoy being free to bed whom you please?” he says, his voice nothing if not a whisper. He steps closer and Seonghwa, though he knows better than to allow such a thing to happen, can’t make himself move away. “Is it enjoyable to knot as many people as you’d like without any repercussions?” 

“What do you mean by such questions?” Seonghwa breathes. Hongjoong is so close Seonghwa can feel his skirt against his thighs and he can smell him. The scent of blueberry pie dizzies him, though he can’t make himself leave. 

“You certainly mustn’t get tired of it,” Hongjoong murmurs. He reaches up and brushes his knuckles against Seonghwa’s cheekbone. “There are plenty of willing Omegas who would kill to have you between their legs, aren’t there?” 

“And if I don’t want them?” Seonghwa says softly. 

Hongjoong releases a bit of a breathless little laugh. 

“How could you not?” he says. His hand wanders down to Seonghwa’s and takes him by the wrist, moving so the Alpha is holding his hip. “But, perhaps you’d like something more . . . pampered?” 

Seonghwa’s breath catches in his throat as Hongjoong noses against the side of his neck, lips grazing over his skin as he rolls his hips forward in the tiniest of movements. 

“You know,” he whispers, “they say that the richer an Omega is, the better they take a knot.”

“Do they, now?” Seonghwa says, his voice just as soft while his eyes are just as hooded as Hongjoong’s. The Omega hums in conformation as he moves so close that Seonghwa can feel his breath ghosting over his lips. 

“And do you know what they say about you, Mr. Park Seonghwa?” he says

“What?” 

Hongjoong laughs, lightly, airily. 

“They say you only fuck the virgins, did you know? They say you only want to deflower as many Omegas as possible.” 

It’s Seonghwa’s turn to laugh as he leans in and presses his lips to the tiny space behind Hongjoong’s ear. 

“Do you believe that, my dear?” he murmurs against his skin. “Do you believe that I am but a villain searching for some sort of purity by taking it from you?” 

Hongjoong laughs. 

“I haven’t enough information to make a proper assumption,” he breathes. Seonghwa chuckles against his skin and presses another kiss there. 

“Would you like to find out?” Seonghwa says, pulling away to stare at Hongjoong. The younger man looks up at him through his lashes and hums, reaching out to card his fingers through Seonghwa’s hair. 

“Tell your friend you won’t be coming home tonight,” he whispers huskily. Seonghwa is tempted to laugh as he waltzes off to find San. 

“Hyung,” he says after hearing the news, his eyes darting to the open doors that lead to the gardens, “is this really a good idea?” 

“Psh, it’s not like his husband will come right this minute,” Seonghwa says. He too looks over his shoulder at where Hongjoong waits. The moonlight illuminates his figure, changing the scarlet of his dress to something more silver-ish. “Just go home, yes? I’ll sneak out in the morning.”

“Hyung, he’s married . You know better-”

“Knowing better doesn’t make one better,” Seonghwa says. He shakes his head and begins to shoo San out with the rest of the guests. “I’ll see you in the morning, all right? Don’t wait for me.” 

San chews on his lip before sighing and nodding. 

“Fine,” he says. “Just - don’t get in trouble. His husband - General Chang is Yunho’s father’s superior, okay?” 

Seonghwa scoffs and smiles softly at him. 

“Don’t worry, San-ah,” he says. He looks over his shoulder and sees Hongjoong looking at him expectantly, an eyebrow raised. “Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow, yes?” 

San sighs but he nods. 

“See you tomorrow,” he says. Seonghwa waves him goodbye before walking over to Hongjoong. 

“Stars above, that took you so long,” he says when Seonghwa returns. The Alpha huffs out a laugh as he leans forward, caging Hongjoong in against the stone fence he stands before. 

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” he says. He leans down and begins to kiss Hongjoong’s neck, lips dragging over his skin. “Happy?” 

Hongjoong hums, carding his fingers through Seonghwa’s hair. 

“We’ll see,” he whispers. Seonghwa snorts and moves up to press their lips together, tongue darting out of his mouth and sliding over the plump swell of Hongjoong’s lower lip. The Omega gasps before he melts into his embrace, leaning back and allowing Seonghwa’s tongue to dance with his own. It’s a miracle that they manage to stumble out of the gardens and up the stairs until they reach Hongjoong’s room. Then again, Seonghwa is carrying him and he ends up throwing Hongjoong on the bed, tugging his boots off and crawling between his legs. Hongjoong leans back against the mountain of cushions behind him, his eyes lidded. Seonghwa reaches behind him and begins undoing the buttons of his dress, tugging the gown away from Hongjoong’s pretty little body and tossing it to the side. The younger man stares at him, dressed in only his corset and under clothes, and Seonghwa feels his throat dry. He licks his lips and then begins to press sloppy kisses down the slope of Hongjoong’s neck, gripping Hongjoong’s thighs so hard he’s sure that they’ll bruise. While he knows that virginity is a social construct used to shame Omegas, he can’t stop the excitement that bubbles up inside of him at the thought of being the first to have Hongjoong like this. It has him smirking against his lips as he pulls away and pushes his hair back to stare at him. 

Gods, Hongjoong is absolutely gorgeous. He’s pale, his body very nearly untouched by the sun. A healthy flush has made its way down from his face to all over, and Seonghwa reaches a tentative hand out to the corset, looking to Hongjoong for permission. The younger seems to turn even redder as he averts his eyes and nods. With deft fingers, Seonghwa undoes the ties holding the piece of clothing together, moving it to the side. Hongjoong shifts in place, still avoiding Seonghwa’s eyes. He ends up taking matters into his own hands as he surges forward and recaptures Hongjoong’s lips in a passionate kiss, running his hands over the sides of his body. 

“Beautiful,” he whispers. Hongjoong rolls his eyes and shakes his head. 

“First of all,” he pants out between kisses, “none of that sappy stuff. I don’t want it. I’m still married, don’t you know?” 

Seonghwa laughs and shakes his head, continuing to kiss him. 

“And second?” he says. 

Hongjoong smirks at him. It’s cute. 

“Second, I want you as naked as I am. I’d ask for more, but I don’t want you to go bratty on me. That’s my job,” he says. Seonghwa snorts and pulls his jacket off, then he begins to unbutton his vest. He unlaces the front of his shirt after that’s off, tugging it over his head and tossing it to the side. 

“Pants too,” Hongjoong says, pointing at his legs. Seonghwa snorts and steps off of the bed, pulling the article of clothing off and leaving it in a pile on the floor. Hongjoong whistles at him and Seonghwa scoffs as he crawls between his legs, leaning forward to press their lips together. Hongjoong’s kisses are sweet and Seonghwa wants more , wants to kiss all over him and explore his body like a curious child in the marketplace. 

Probably not a good idea to think of children right now, Seonghwa thinks, huffing a laugh at himself as he kisses himself a path down Hongjoong’s body until he reaches the Omega’s underpants. They’re cute, made of fine lace that Seonghwa could never afford, but really, it’s fine because he gets to be the one to pry them from Hongjoong’s legs and stare down at him, hungry and desperate, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. Hongjoong looks beautiful like this, lying in the middle of his lovely silk cushions and sheets, totally and utterly debauched. 

And it’s all because of Seonghwa. For some reason, the thought makes his mind - some deep, primal part of it - sing and howl with joy as he leans down and kisses Hongjoong, rolling his hips forward. The younger gasps before whining and copying the motion, desperate for friction. 

“Gods,” Seonghwa breathes, “you’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.” 

Hongjoong laughs, breathless as he wraps his legs around Seonghwa’s middle and tugs him close, reaching up and tangling his fingers in his hair. 

“Mm, think I’ll keep you around for a bit if I like you enough,” he says breathily. Seonghwa laughs and kisses him, allowing himself to fall victim to the throes of passion. 

He wakes up beside Hongjoong, the younger sleeping with his back toward him. Seonghwa sits up and looks around, rubbing his eyes and frowning. Dawn’s shy, early light gently seeps in through the pretty glass windows of Hongjoong’s house, tickling the residents of the bedroom. Seonghwa gets up, grabbing his clothes and pulling them on. Well, all he really can manage to do is pull his shirt, pants, and underclothes on, choosing to leave the vest and jacket to pick up after hanging Hongjoong’s gown up. It’s made of some sort of satin and the material is pleasant to touch as it glides over his hands, soft too. Seonghwa, after doing so with Hongjoong’s corset, puts the dress on the mannequin, sighing to himself. He turns to Hongjoong and feels a smile play at the corners of his lips, though he’s quick to beat it down as he walks over and crouches by him. 

“Hongjoong,” he whispers because they’ve just slept together and the thought of using an honorific on a man with whom he’s just had sex with makes his stomach churn. “Hongjoong, wake up.” 

“Hmm?” Hongjoong hums, slowly opening his eyes. He sits up and looks around, rubbing his eyes as he tries to wake up. 

“I’m leaving,” Seonghwa says. Hongjoong hums and nods, standing and letting the blankets fall. He’s still naked, as Seonghwa couldn’t have expected him to pull on any sort of article of clothing while they were both asleep, yet his eyes still run shamelessly over Hongjoong’s form. 

“You’re going through the window?” he murmurs. Seonghwa hums and nods, shifting in place. Hongjoong pads over to the window, stopping to grab a robe to wrap around himself, flipping the latch keeping it closed. Seonghwa swings one leg out and is about to do the same with the other, but a soft voice stops him. 

“I’ll see you again?” Hongjoong says, his tone attempting to be demanding and nonchalant. Seonghwa allows himself a smile. 

“You said you’d keep me around, didn’t you?” he says. Hongjoong laughs as he turns around, walking forward. 

“Stars above, Mr. Park, you are something,” he says. Seonghwa laughs. 

“Something you slept with,” he teases and Hongjoong snorts, shaking his head. 

“Sure, sure,” he says. “Go home to your friends, yeah? Neither of us has time for this.” 

Seonghwa nods, then he swings his other leg out of the window and climbs down the wall. It’s easy to run through the gardens and clamber over the fence, his boots loud as he runs through the still-sleeping city. 

“You smell awful,” Seonghwa’s boss says. The Alpha doesn’t say anything as he pulls the books from their shelves, fingers running over the spines. He gets down from the little stool and walks over to the man, probably dropping the books on his desk with a little more force than he needs to. “Don’t tell me you were out whoring yourself.” 

“Fine, I won’t,” Seonghwa says, shrugging. His fingers twitch, growing annoyed with the ink drying on them. He hears a laugh from over his shoulder and Seonghwa rolls his eyes. He really doesn’t like his job, but he really likes having food to eat, a roof over his head, and more clothes than just the ones on his back. 

“You have to work late, you know that, right?” his boss says. Seonghwa hums. “Ever since all of the flyers for enlistment were put out, all of the young Alphas are disappearing.” 

Seonghwa huffs a laugh. He hopes that San, Yunho, and Jongho are all okay. He himself doesn’t have to enlist since he wasn’t born in Aestrath, but, as an immigrant from Ifan, most would expect him to. Then again, Seonghwa’s never really done what’s expected of him.

“See you,” Seonghwa hears his boss say as he walks out. He doesn’t bother looking over at him as he shoulders his bag and walks out, traveling quietly through the city streets. 

“Yunho, we can’t ,” a voice whispers, sad and pleading. Seonghwa feels his feet stop and he takes a few steps backward. He’d forgotten that he was in the richer area of town. 

“Mingi-” Yunho says, clutching the other Alpha’s hands. They’re hidden in the shadows, out of Yunho’s father’s sight. 

“What if your father finds out?” Mingi says and Seonghwa recognizes him as the Alpha favored by Yunho’s father. He’s tall, nearly as tall as Yunho, with a straight nose and plump lips. He looks absolutely terrified and heartbroken, eyes continuing to dart around nervously. 

“He won’t,” Yunho promises. Seonghwa bites his lip. Mingi could face execution if they were discovered while Yunho would be forced through awful, painful trials to “cure” him of his attraction toward another Alpha. He’d be stripped of his titles until then and he’d be forced to become some sort of heat-aid, or so Seonghwa suspects. He’s never seen the treatment used on an Alpha before, though he’s heard of Omegas who loved other Omegas or female Betas and, in retaliation, were forced into prostitution without the pay. None of them are ever quite the same after that. 

“Yunho, you’ll get in trouble,” Mingi says. “If - he’ll find out, he will . It’s too - we can’t.” 

“We can,” Yunho says. “We - I - a friend of mine, he’s thinking about running away to Ifan. We can - we can go too. They’ll never be able - I’ve heard that life is better there, that you can marry whom you want. One of the royal couples-”

“How would we sneak out, Yunho?” Mingi says. “Yunho, they - ever since the rebellions started, they’ve been sweeping the ports to make sure none of the soldiers - Alphas try to run. Yunho, they’ll tear you apart if they find out. You’ll lose everything .” 

“I promise you, Mingi, it won’t happen, just - please , run away-”

“I have a duty, Yunho,” Mingi says. “I have to stay here, if not for me, then you.”

“Is that really it?” Yunho says as Mingi pulls away. “You’re - you’re refusing - it’s your duty to serve a country that doesn’t care about you? Is that it?” 

Mingi stills and wipes his eyes. 

“Yunho . . .” he whispers hoarsely. “You know-”

“Do I, though?” Yunho says. He sniffles and wipes his eyes. Seonghwa feels his heart speed up as he fears for their safety because of Yunho’s growing volume. “I’m not really sure, Mingi, because you really haven’t - you’ve really been trying to pull away from me for a really long time. And I don’t - I can’t -”

“Do you want to know why?” Mingi says. “Do you really know - want to know why?” 

“Why?” Yunho says. “Why, Mingi, are you-”

“I love you!” Mingi shrieks, his voice loud and cutting across the courtyard in which they stand. “I love you, Jeong Yunho, and the thought absolutely terrifies me and I can’t - and I lie awake at night and I wonder why the stars cursed you to make it so that some buffoon like me has fallen in love with another - another-” his voice breaks and becomes so quiet that Seonghwa can hardly hear him “-with another Alpha. And stars, Yunho, I am so damned terrified of how I feel and I wish it wasn’t - I wish that it wasn’t that way because it’s so unfair to you that I’m giving you hope that this-”

Yunho rushes forward and kisses him before he can finish. Mingi is crying and he stares at Yunho with wide eyes before he melts into his embrace, cupping his face as they kiss. 

Seonghwa curses himself for stumbling over a brick sticking out of the street. Abruptly, the two men pull apart and stand far from each other, though the redness of their faces and lips couldn’t be more betraying. 

“Who goes there?” Yunho says. “Where are you hiding?” 

“It’s - it’s me, Yunho-yah,” Seonghwa says as he pushes himself into view. The two Alphas stare at him, wide-eyed and fearful.

“Seonghwa-Hyung?” Yunho says. He steps in front of Mingi. “Wha-how much did you hear?” 

Seonghwa averts his eyes. 

“Enough,” he says quietly. He looks up at them. “I can help you.” 

“We don’t need your help,” Mingi says defensively. “We-”

“Ifan,” Seonghwa says. “I - my family immigrated here from - from there, fifteen years ago. I can - I can get you there. I - we have - I have money, scales, the currency. You just - you have to protect San and Wooyoung, okay?” 

Yunho looks relieved though Mingi’s eyes are still narrowed and suspicious. 

“What - why?” he says. “Why are you helping us?” 

“Because I don’t need that money and Yunho is my friend. So is San.” He shifts in place and holds his hands out. “I work for a publisher. I can get you false documents for immigration if you’d like.” 

“Really?” Yunho says. “You - you’d do that for us?” 

Seonghwa shrugs. 

“Of course, I would,” he says. “I can be nice, in case you haven’t noticed.” 

“How long would it take?” Mingi says. 

Seonghwa falters. It takes months to get real papers, especially for Alphas, and someone like Mingi is impossible to disguise as a Beta. If they do go through with this, then they’ll need a huge distraction. 

Seonghwa chews on his lower lip, blood filling his mouth when he does. 

“A year tops,” he says. He looks between them. “Do you think - can you wait that long?”

“I’m supposed to go down south to fight the rebellion in half of that,” Mingi says. He raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms over his chest. “Can you get it done in that time?” 

“I don’t - I must confess that I don’t know,” he says, wringing his hands. He looks up and locks eyes with them both, trying to seem non-threatening. “But I swear that I will never tell a single soul about this.”

“How-”

“Thank you, Hyung,” Yunho says, bowing at the older. It feels strange, really, because Yunho is above Seonghwa in nearly every way possible. Seonghwa is but a peasant whom the rich enjoy the presence of while Yunho is an heir. 

“It’s a pleasure to assist you,” Seonghwa says. Yunho smiles at him and Mingi allows himself the smallest movement of his lips. Seonghwa bows at them before walking off, waving over his shoulder. 

He doesn’t bring it up to them and he doesn’t tell anyone in the days that follow. Seonghwa steals immigration papers, real ones, and begins trying to make copies, staying up late in his little house, a candle flickering beside him as the flame melts the wax into a small puddle. 

The work takes Hongjoong from his mind. Seonghwa has Mingi come to his home and they go over fake identification while Seonghwa counts the few scales he still has since he’s been planning to return to Ifan for a few years. 

“Why haven’t you?” Mingi says as he nibbles on the bread Seonghwa offered him. “You could. You have-”

“-Too much tying me here,” Seonghwa says. He shrugs. “Besides, I don’t exactly have the right papers to leave. I’d have to file a report with the immigration services here and there, and I don’t have the money to get a messenger if I want to buy boat tickets. It’s not something I can do.” 

“So why are you doing it for us?” Mingi says, tilting his head. 

Seonghwa shrugs, feeling himself tense up. 

“Because I think you guys have a chance there,” he murmurs. “Also, you’d - you guys need it a lot more than I do. You and Yunho - loving - being in a relationship with each other is so unfairly dangerous here, as is it with Wooyoung and San. And, well,” he shrugs, putting the quill down and looking over his shoulder at Mingi, “it’s not very fair if I just hoard all of these things for myself if I never intend to use them, yes?” 

Mingi shrugs back but he nods. 

“I just find it strange, though, since you’re in hot water as well,” he says. Seonghwa puts the quill down again and sits up, turning to look over his shoulder. 

“What do you mean?” he says. 

“You slept with Kim Hongjoong, didn’t you?” he says. Seonghwa hums. Mingi doesn’t seem like the type to gossip, and he’s sure it would’ve come to light sooner or later. 

“I did,” he says, nodding. “Who told you?” 

“Yunho did,” he says. “No one knows besides us and San and Wooyoung and Jongho. You’re safe, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

Seonghwa nods. None of these people seem interested in his downfall, so he supposes he’s safe. For now, that is. 

“And why would this put me in hot water?” he says. Mingi shrugs. 

“You slept with the husband of one of Aestrath’s highest-ranking generals,” Mingi says. He laughs a bit and leans back in his chair. “I wouldn’t blame you - nor would anyone else - if you wanted to run from here as far as possible.” 

Seonghwa laughs and grins at him, gathering the papers. He hands them to Mingi and the other Alpha looks down, gasping as his eyes widen. 

“Well,” he says, “it’d be a shame if these were to go to waste, wouldn’t it?” 

“I-”

“Park Seonghwa-ssi?” a soft and familiar voice says, pushing the door open. Wooyoung stands anxiously in the doorway, wringing his hands and picking at his apron. He averts his eyes and stares at his feet, having been taught that an Omega of his status should never look upon any sort of Alpha unless given permission. 

“Wooyoung-ah,” Seonghwa says warmly. He smiles. “You may look at us. We are friends, are we not?” 

Wooyoung seems to twitch a bit as he lifts his head, then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small envelope. It has a red wax seal, a phoenix stamped into it. 

“For you,” he says. His eyes dart around. “It’s from Lord Hongjoong.” 

“Oh,” Seonghwa says. He nods and then turns around, shuffling through the papers to find Wooyoung’s. “Will - uh, c’you look at this? It’s for - uh, you know.” 

Wooyoung nods, his hands shaking as he takes the paper. He runs his fingers over the fake name, Seo Taeyang, and he sniffles. Seo Taeyang is twenty-three (two years older than Wooyoung. It’s not safe to put the exact age.) and he’s an orphan whose husband, Seo Chan-Woo, has an uncle living in Ifan’s northern kingdom. They’re moving for Chan-Woo, as he has a health issue that requires he lives in the far mountain regions. Seonghwa’s still working that part out. 

“You - how -” Wooyoung stammers. Much to Seonghwa’s surprise, he doesn’t seem to be the least bit flustered by the fact that he and San are fake married. Or, well, technically Chan-Woo and Taeyang are, but what’s the difference?

“He’s magic,” Mingi says. He shows Wooyoung his, which is very nearly complete. Seonghwa supposes that he’s only been able to do it this fast (a week and a half to be exact) because he’s been working at it while he’s supposed to be sleeping and whenever he has any spare time. Mingi is a fighting machine, everyone in the city knows that - and everyone also knows he won’t make it back if he’s sent out to fight. Big, powerful Alphas never do, at least not in one piece. Seonghwa knows it would utterly break Yunho if he saw his lover dead or worse. 

“Not exactly,” Seonghwa says. The letter from Hongjoong weighs heavily in his pocket. “Now shoo, you two. I’ve got work to do.” 

“More like a Hongjoong to do,” Mingi mumbles as he and Wooyoung walk out. The Omega giggles quietly and then they’re off. 

Seonghwa sighs, rubbing his eyes and sitting down on the table as he opens the envelope. The letter is written inside and it’s quite simple and very demanding. 

I’m waiting.
-Hongjoong

Seonghwa snorts and then sets fire to the letter, shaking his head. He hides the papers underneath one of his floorboards and then kicks some dust over it, heading out. He reaches Hongjoong’s house and clambers up the fence, swinging himself over before climbing up the wall with the ivy as a ladder. He knocks loudly on Hongjoong’s window and rolls in when it flies open. 

“You’ve been gone too long,” Hongjoong says, his back to Seonghwa. He thinks he hears the door click shut and the Alpha shrugs, getting to his feet and dusting himself off. 

“I can’t exactly prance into your house, can I? You are, after all, a married man,” Seonghwa says. Hongjoong laughs, turning around. He’s wearing one of those pretty silk robes again, holding it closed with his hands. 

“You could’ve snuck in at night,” he says. Seonghwa snorts. 

“I didn’t want you kicking me out,” he says. 

“I told you I’d see you next time, didn’t I?” Hongjoong whispers, now much closer. He reaches up and cups Seonghwa’s face, tilting his head. Seonghwa hums and wraps an arm around his waist, leaning forward and brushing his lips over the side of Hongjoong’s lips. 

“You told me you’d think about keeping me around if you liked it,” he says softly. 

“I did, didn’t I?” Hongjoong says. He laughs quietly. “Did it seem as if I was displeased or dissatisfied with your performance?” 

Seonghwa smirks, thinking back to that night as he leans down and nips Hongjoong’s earlobe. 

“If I recall correctly,” he says huskily, “you were screaming my name before we were even halfway through.” 

“Mm, sure,” Hongjoong says, tangling his fingers in the hairs at the base of Seonghwa’s neck. He frowns. “What’s been keeping you so busy, though?” 

“I do have a life outside of sleeping with people,” Seonghwa says. Hongjoong hums and pulls away, going to lie on the bed. Seonghwa takes his boots off and then tosses his shirt to the side, walking over. 

“Wait,” Hongjoong says, sitting up and holding a hand up. Seonghwa stops and arches an eyebrow, leaning against the post of the bed.

“Yes?” he says. 

“You don’t do feelings, do you?” he says. Seonghwa shrugs and Hongjoong scowls. “No, seriously. I can’t have an actual relationship. I’ll keep you around to sleep with, but we can’t-”

“Oh my Gods, no, you had all that big talk about how you’d heard all of these rumors about me sleeping around and no one thought to tell you I didn’t do relationships because they’re a waste of time? My time, specifically?” 

Hongjoong huffs, crossing his arms and looking away. 

“You can leave if you’re going to be a dick, I hope you know that,” he says. He looks over. “You leave if you’re going to be a dick.” 

Seonghwa laughs as he crawls over, pulling Hongjoong into his lap. 

“I’ll keep it in mind,” he says softly before he leans up and slots their lips together. Hongjoong melts into the kiss, his fingers running through Seonghwa’s hair as he does. Seonghwa moves his hands over his hips and legs, continuing to move his lips against Hongjoong’s. 

“Tell me I’m pretty,” the Omega commands when Seonghwa pulls away. Seonghwa arches an eyebrow, as he’s quite certain that Hongjoong has enough people to do that for him. But something in his eyes demands it, needs it, desperately so, and Seonghwa can do nothing but obey as he leans forward and kisses the spot under Hongjoong’s ear. 

“You are the prettiest Omega I’ve ever seen,” he says lowly. He bites Hongjoong’s earring, a small hanging pearl, and tugs on it, eliciting a whine from the younger. “So, so pretty.” 

Hongjoong sighs, already rather blissed-out. Seonghwa snorts and moves to kiss him, once again falling victim to Hongjoong’s charms. 

Fine Line

And, soon enough, Hongjoong becomes a normal part of Seonghwa’s life. He works on the papers and goes to work and then, in the dead of night, he’ll clamber up the wall of Hongjoong’s manor and into his room, losing himself to the throes of passion. 

He is a fool for letting it happen so easily. Seonghwa is so, so foolish and stupid for allowing Hongjoong to carve out such a large space in Seonghwa’s life for himself. Because a large space in one’s life can lead to a small space in one’s heart, and that small space can grow as easily as a wildfire in the dry season. 

Sometimes, though, Seonghwa wonders, he really does, if Hongjoong feels the same. The marriage he has to General Chang is an arranged one, and he has made it clear upon multiple occasions that he feels nothing for the man. This feeds the small, flickering ember of hope Seonghwa protects in his chest, trying to keep it small. It fuels it even more when he’s waiting for Seonghwa in his room, tugging him in through the window with a bright grin. Seonghwa’s heart will thunder traitorously as they sit on the bed because Hongjoong is truly very, very lonely and he wants someone to talk to. He’ll go on and on about the things he’s passionate about (poetry, particularly from a certain author whose pen name is ‘Dragon’, music (he’s a wonderful pianist), writing, books, and practically every type of art under the sun.) and Seonghwa will listen. He’s even gone out to bring Hongjoong some of the poetry and paints that Yunho likes, as he too is very interested in the arts. And Seonghwa, like a lovesick fool, only falls deeper in love with him. 

Yet, the small, flickering ember of hope he’s oh-so protective of, is stamped out by Hongjoong himself. When he’s cold and withdrawn from Seonghwa, ignoring him when he comes in and kicking him out as soon as they wake up. When he shuts Seonghwa out and refuses to speak with him or when his voice is quick and snappy. 

But there is one phrase that makes Seonghwa feel as if his entire heart has been torn directly from his chest and Hongjoong is crushing it in his fist. 

“Do you know why I like you, Seonghwa?” Hongjoong says softly as he lies on Seonghwa’s naked chest, his fingertip drawing idle circles of sorts on his skin.

Seonghwa doesn’t say anything, continuing to pretend to be asleep. Hongjoong feels so small in his grasp, like a little bird with an injured wing. Seonghwa wishes he could stay like this forever.  

“You don’t feel things,” Hongjoong whispers. His voice is hoarse and Seonghwa thinks he feels something wet land on his chest. Hongjoong sniffles. “Stars, you’re so lucky. I’m so lucky because I don’t -” he sniffles again, much louder this time and Seonghwa scrunches his face “-I don’t have to worry about you getting hurt.” 

Seonghwa wishes he could laugh. Hongjoong would probably never talk to him again, though, so he remains quiet. 

“I wish he’d die,” he says. His nails dig into the skin of Seonghwa’s chest, and he barely manages to contain his wince. “If he was dead, I wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore. It’d be so much easier, wouldn’t it be?” 

It would, Seonghwa thinks as he focuses on keeping his breathing even. Because maybe I’d have a chance. 

Hongjoong sighs and another droplet lands on Seonghwa’s chest. He’s tempted to open his eyes and wipe Hongjoong’s tears away for him, to tug him up into his arms as they sit up and to kiss him softly until he forgets everything. 

But Seonghwa isn’t allowed to do that. So, he waits until Hongjoong cries himself to sleep before getting out of bed and pulling his clothes on before he sneaks out of the window, running through the city and allowing his tears to finally flow freely down his cheeks. He runs and runs and runs until he reaches the far fields of the city, the ones that hide from society. 

And then, Seonghwa opens his mouth and releases a loud, broken shriek. It fills the field and Seonghwa falls to his knees, hugging himself as a sob builds in his throat and tears stream down his cheeks. 

“Why?” he screams. “Why, why, why?!” 

He’s answered only by the fading summer wind, and Seonghwa releases a shuddering breath. He sits there for a few more moments, his eyes shut as his tears flow from his cheeks down to the ground beneath his knees, seeping into the earth. 

And then, Seonghwa pushes himself to his feet and walks back. 

He finds Hongjoong to be ignoring him again. Which is fine, Seonghwa’s fine, because he has so much work to do with all of these papers and arrangements he has to make. It’s good to take his mind off of Hongjoong, finally, though the papers are beginning to stress him out. The rebellion is beginning to crawl up to where they are, slow but very, very steady. He’s finished with Mingi’s but he still has to work out a reason as to why he and another Alpha are going to Ifan. It doesn’t help either that the empire has sent messages out about it closing its borders due to an unknown sort of disease tearing through the land.

Seonghwa wishes he could say that he doesn’t think of Hongjoong. Yet, as he lies awake at night, thoughts of the other man fill his mind. His smile, his eyes, his lips, his nose, his hair, his skin, his hands, his body, his voice - all of it. 

But the most outstanding of them all, the one Seonghwa can never ignore, is the memory of the anomaly of Hongjoong’s obsession with being told he’s pretty. Seonghwa has been with people who like it, it’s not - well, it’s not exactly new to him, though, when it comes to the level of obsession Hongjoong has with it, well, that’s a different story. He seems to crave it in the same way a flower craves the sun and the rain, demanding it and hiding behind a mask of bratty petulance. Seonghwa had, at first, thought nothing of it. But now, lying awake in bed, staring at his ceiling, he can’t help but wonder. Because Hongjoong has an obsession with those words, with hearing them spill from Seonghwa’s lips and into the room in which they reside. It’s not - he doesn’t see it as a problem, per se, it’s just-

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong whimpers from beneath him. Seonghwa looks at him, at the tears streaming down his cheeks, the red that’s overtaken his pale skin, at his quivering lips. He frowns. 

“Hongjoong?” he says. Hongjoong whimpers again and reaches up, pulling him close and pressing his face into the crook of Seonghwa’s neck. His tears mix with the Alpha’s sweat, though that’s the last thing on Seonghwa’s mind right now. 

“Hongjoong?” he says again. 

“Am I pretty?” Hongjoong whispers. And really, it’s such a strange question for him to ask because of course , he’s pretty. He’s gorgeous, really, the most beautiful person Seonghwa has ever seen. He pulls back a bit and stares into Hongjoong’s eyes, watching how they water. His lower lip wobbles and his little fangs stick out, small and delicate. Seonghwa leans forward and kisses him, licking into his mouth. 

“You,” he whispers against Hongjoong’s lips, “are the most ethereal person I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.”

Hongjoong sobs loudly and Seonghwa presses himself closer, closer, kissing him harder. 

I love you, he thinks desperately. I love you so, so much, my dear, sweet Hongjoong. 

“Hyung? Hyung, wake up!” a voice says. The Alpha jolts and sits up, looking around with wide eyes. He finally spots Wooyoung, his arms crossed and his eyebrows raised. 

“What is it?” he says, rubbing his eyes. Wooyoung reaches into his apron pocket and then he’s pulling out another one of those cursed letters. 

“It’s from you-know-whom,” he says. Seonghwa sighs heavily and holds his hand out, a feeling of dread looming over him. He stares at the envelope and sighs, his shoulders slumping. 

“All right,” he says. He looks up at Wooyoung. “Thank you for doing this.” 

Wooyoung shrugs and picks at his apron. He’s gotten rid of most of his nervous habits, at least when he’s not visible to the public eye, though he’s still pretty jumpy and anxious. Seonghwa is happy to see his progress, though. 

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Wooyoung says, his voice softening. Seonghwa nods, turning his attention back to the small envelope. He sighs, shaking his head as he gets up and grabs his clothes. He’ll procrastinate on reading it as much as possible, thank you very much. 

Seonghwa astounds himself when he manages to go to work and function like a regular person while Hongjoong’s letter sits unopened under his pillow. His self-control should be condemned, truly, a blessing in this world. 

“Maybe you should stop,” San says as Seonghwa works on the immigration papers. “It - you’re going to get caught sooner or later.” 

Seonghwa puts the quill down, sighing and wiping his ink-covered hands on his pants. 

“My dear San,” he says, “we’ve known each other for years, haven’t we?” 

San arches an eyebrow. 

“Yes?” he says. Seonghwa nods. 

“Then you should know by now that I have absolutely no self-preservation when it comes to this,” Seonghwa says. He sighs and rubs his eyes, cursing because he most certainly got ink on his face. “Look, I’ll probably tell him sooner or later. Some time or another. Maybe tomorrow morning if I’m in the mood for a lot of emotional hurt or something. Or if I’d just like to torture myself. Who knows?” He laughs, then, a bit hysterical at the prospect of confessing to Hongjoong. And, in retrospect, Seonghwa knows he should’ve seen this coming. He used to have a strict one night only policy, yet he’s been the one running to Hongjoong ever since day one. 

“I suppose that’s how it’s supposed to be, though,” he muses to himself, having begun to ignore San. “Alphas are to chase. That’s why we have a courting process, hm? Then again, there are those who do not feel such attractions, so I suppose it’s all a mess. Who knows?” 

“Hyung?” San says, shaking his arm. “Are you okay?” 

Seonghwa gasps and looks over, a hand on his chest for added effect. 

“Absolutely not ,” he says. “I’m terribly in love with a man whose husband isn’t me and I face the threat of death should I be discovered for having an affair with him. How could you even ask such a question?” 

“Well, okay, sorry,” San grumbles. “A simple ‘no’ would’ve had the same effect, though.”

Seonghwa snorts, getting up and shaking his head. He looks out the window and stares at the setting sun, a frown staining his features. 

“You should go,” he offers quietly. He looks at his hands. “I still need to wash up. I’m - we can’t get stains - ink stains, at least - on Hongjoong’s sheets.” 

Seonghwa can hear the chair scraping against the floor as San gets up and walks over, hugging him from behind. 

“Be careful, okay, Hyung?” he says. Seonghwa laughs and smiles fondly at him. 

“It’s a bit late for that now, isn’t it?” he says. He sighs, ruffling San’s hair. “Go on. Wooyoung’s waiting for you.” 

“We’re still not together,” San says. He sighs and his shoulders slump. “I just - it feels like we won’t ever - like we’re just not meant to be together. Maybe you should go in my place.” 

Seonghwa rolls his eyes. 

“Okay, no,” he says, “because I spent way too much time making the physical description of Chan-Woo match you with a few alters that wouldn’t be noticed. You aren’t staying here because I could never pretend to be you. If we had more time, I’d definitely tell you more, but you have places to be as do I. So, shoo!” 

San smiles at him as he goes and Seonghwa shakes his head, pushing him toward the door. San laughs as he goes, though he leaves and, soon enough, Seonghwa finds himself alone. 

He sighs, his shoulders sagging as he does. He shakes his head at himself and straightens, then goes out to get some water for a bath. 

Seonghwa pulls his shirt over his head, grabbing a pair of pants. He has yet to read Hongjoong’s letter, so he supposes he’ll do that now as he waits for the moon to make itself known. 

Another reason why Seonghwa believes he’s fallen for Hongjoong so easily is his letters. He’s wonderfully eloquent with an uncanny ability to paint the most vivid pictures Seonghwa’s ever had the honor of imagining using only his words. They’ve long-since forgone simple “come over”s, and Hongjoong’s taken to writing poems or short descriptions of the places and times when he wants Seonghwa to come. Seonghwa keeps all of them tucked into a little box kept under his floorboards, the same one where he keeps the papers and scales. They’re just as precious to him, after all. 

He sighs, shaking his head as he picks up the piece of parchment and gently pries the wax seal open. 

Dear Seonghwa,
I wish to see you when the moon reflects upon the pool of lilies and the sky is full of diamonds.
-Hongjoong

Seonghwa snorts to himself, shaking his head. You could just say ‘when the moon rises’ , he thinks fondly. He turns to look out the window and stares at the darkening sky, chewing on his lower lip. 

I suppose I’ve got plenty of time to do absolutely nothing, he thinks, a bit sarcastic and annoyed. Then again, Hongjoong’s doing it for both of them - they’ll both be in trouble if they’re discovered, though Seonghwa is sure to take the brunt of the punishment. Even if Hongjoong is the one supposed to take the brunt of it, Seonghwa will have it. He doesn’t quite understand why, nor does he care to find out. Seonghwa, for this matter, is content to sit quietly in the dark. 

He sighs, once again, shaking his head. Love truly does make us foolish, doesn’t it? And gods, Seonghwa is but another of its victims, left to languish in his heartbreak for the rest of his life. Then again, it doesn’t appear that he has much of that left, now does it?

Seonghwa laughs, then he walks over to his little cot and lies down, turning to stare out the window. He wonders, a bit spaced out and disconnected, what would happen if he was to beg Hongjoong to leave and just run with him. 

He’d say no most definitely, he thinks with a small frown. What would he gain from leaving anyway?

Seonghwa finds himself leaving the house a few hours (not exactly. He’s exaggerating, he’s sure of it.). He walks quietly through the sleeping city, ducking down whenever he passes one of the still bustling bars. Other than that, though, the place is near dead-silent, and Seonghwa is quite thankful for it. 

He reaches Hongjoong’s home and climbs up the ivy-covered wall surrounding the place. He lands on his feet and walks across the courtyard toward the wall he always goes up. Seonghwa tugs himself toward the window and raps on the panes, swinging one leg over when it opens. 

“You’ve been ignoring me,” Hongjoong says, pouting with his arms crossed over his chest. Seonghwa snorts, rolling his eyes as he lets his cloak fall from his body. It’s not something he needs, as the summer heat is still quite awful, but it’s better for hiding his face. 

“I have other duties to attend to,” Seonghwa says. Hongjoong huffs, getting up from the bed and slowly walking over. The sway of his hips is unmistakable and the silk robe drags on the floor as he moves. He lowers it from his shoulders, letting it bunch around on his forearms. Seonghwa stares at him, very nearly indifferent (or so he hopes). 

“You should’ve told me,” Hongjoong says. Seonghwa hums, staring down at him. With one small hand, Hongjoong reaches up and caresses the side of his face, then traces Seonghwa’s jawline, down to his neck, until he reaches his shoulder, smoothing out the clothing there. 

“I did not think it to be appropriate in our sort of relationship,” he says. Hongjoong seems to wince as if Seonghwa had just snapped at him, his eyes darting away from the Alpha’s. 

“I see,” he says quietly. Seonghwa watches him carefully, trying to pick out the hidden meaning of the sentence. But Hongjoong doesn’t give him any time to do so as he suddenly smashes their lips together, one hand on the back of Seonghwa’s neck to press him closer. Seonghwa walks him backward until they reach the bed, lying over Hongjoong and kissing him. He snakes a hand between their bodies and undoes the tie of Hongjoong’s robe, his tongue swiping over the oh-so plump swell of Hongjoong’s lower lip. Hongjoong whines into the kiss when Seonghwa sinks his teeth into his lip and tugs gently, opening his eyes to watch him darkly. 

Hongjoong’s expression makes him stop. His eyes are a bit squinted though they’re still open, his skin flushed. He looks a bit pained as he tears up, a small sniffle escaping him. It’s quite a scene as his lower lip is still wedged between Seonghwa’s teeth, though the Alpha lets go quickly and pulls away. 

Strangely enough, Hongjoong releases a broken little cry and grabs his arm, tugging him close. 

“No,” he begs. “No, don’t leave me.” 

Seonghwa stares, wide-eyed, at the younger man. Hongjoong looks so small and weak here, even as he’s surrounded by all of his riches. He has to look up at Seonghwa, his big eyes wide and desperate for affection. 

“I - you worried me,” Seonghwa says softly. Hongjoong whimpers again and crawls over, coming to sit in Seonghwa’s lap. It feels like he belongs there. Seonghwa hates that he still has such thoughts. 

“Tell me I’m pretty,” Hongjoong whispers, just as he always does, but something warns Seonghwa. Whether it be the lack of bratty petulance in his tone, his previous behavior, or a simple gut feeling. Seonghwa gently lifts him up and lays him back on the cushions, stepping off of the bed to remove his shirt. Hongjoong sniffles from his place on the bed and Seonghwa looks over, his eyes worried. Hongjoong looks away and fiddles with his nightgown, usually-playful eyes clouded with something Seonghwa wants desperately to be able to read. He crawls back over, draping his body over Hongjoong’s, and pushes his bangs away from his forehead to press a kiss there. 

“You are,” he whispers, moving to kiss his eyelids, one, two, “the most beautiful person,” he kisses Hongjoong’s cute little nose, “whom I,” another kiss finds itself landing on Hongjoong’s left cheekbone, “have ever,” his lips press against Hongjoong’s right cheekbone, having been left untouched before, “had the honor,” instead of Hongjoong’s lips, Seonghwa kisses the space beneath his chin, “of knowing in my whole life.” 

Hongjoong stares up at him, wide eyes still full of tears and unblinking. Seonghwa watches him fondly, unable to keep it from seeping it into his gaze as he slowly lowers himself down to kiss Hongjoong. His mouth is as soft and plush as always and his lips taste even sweeter than the delicacies he feasts upon after his supper. His skin is as soft as the petals of a just-blossomed rose, delicate and smooth as he touches Seonghwa. Their lips fit together perfectly, though Seonghwa refuses to take it as some sign from the gods. He refuses to be a lovesick fool any longer. 

Yet, once again, he finds himself getting lost in Hongjoong. It’s so heartbreakingly easy that Seonghwa wants to laugh as he stands above Hongjoong, sweat sliding over his skin and a flush coloring them both. Everything about Hongjoong is so, so pretty and Seonghwa can’t ever - won’t ever understand why he can’t see it himself. He bends over and gently presses their lips together, holding himself up on his arms as Hongjoong runs his fingers through Seonghwa’s hair, tilting his head as he kisses a trail down and over the column of his neck. Hongjoong’s legs are around his waist and Seonghwa moves his hands back to hold them, nails gently digging into the soft, supple flesh of Hongjoong’s thighs. His skin is as smooth as silk and as delicate as the petals of a cherry blossom, beautiful but still so easy to break. Seonghwa fears his nails breaking through and drawing blood, painting Hongjoong’s pale skin crimson. He finds it a bit ironic, though, how Hongjoong’s nails drag down his back as he loses himself, head tossed back and his eyes shut in pleasure. 

However, Seonghwa, for their last night together, has a single request. 

“Open your eyes,” he whispers, leaning down to press the words against Hongjoong’s skin. “Look at me.” The words are pleading, begging, even though Seonghwa had prayed otherwise. 

“Hongjoong,” he says, choking on his words. Slowly, the younger man cracks his eyes open and he stares at Seonghwa. He’s so small and fragile, especially like this. Without his extravagant gowns or guests or confidence to hide behind, Hongjoong is but a scared young man forced into a marriage he never wanted and is desperate for an escape. And Seonghwa just so happens to be that for him. 

He hates himself, truly, for what he’s about to do. So, he simply drowns himself in Hongjoong’s eyes and kisses him as much as he can, falling deeper and deeper as the night slips away like sand between his fingers. 

For once, Hongjoong rouses before Seonghwa does. The comfort of the bed is warm and, embarrassingly enough, quite familiar. The shy, early light of dawn tickles his eyes and his face twitches in protest as he rolls away with an annoyed grunt. He doesn’t really remember where he is until a few minutes later, and his eyes fly open when he does. He’s also startled by the emptiness of the bed, by the lack of warmth, and Seonghwa sits up, frowning and looking around. Standing out on his balcony (it’s facing another house and they decided it wasn’t worth it) is none other than Hongjoong himself, wrapped in only a crocheted cardigan. Seonghwa scratches his head before getting up and grabbing a pair of pants and pulling them on, walking over. 

“Do you enjoy it?” Hongjoong says, just as he did when they met all that time ago. Seonghwa stops in his tracks. And, just as before, he frowns. 

“What?” he says. And then, Hongjoong turns around and looks at him, his eyes soft and sad and broken. 

“Seonghwa, what was the rule of our arrangement?” he says. “I just - I need to be reminded. To remember my place.” 

Seonghwa stares at him, his heartbeat thundering in his chest. He suddenly sighs, then, his shoulders dropping as he shakes his head and walks over, taking Hongjoong’s hands in his own. 

“I am sorry, my dear Hongjoong,” he whispers. He squeezes Hongjoong’s hands and smiles sadly at him. “I am, unfortunately, unable to continue our arrangement.” 

Hongjoong’s eyes fill with panic. 

“No!” he shrieks, loud and sudden, definitely waking someone up. “No, I refuse!” 

Seonghwa steps away, taken aback by his behavior. 

“Hongjoong-”

“No!” Hongjoong says again, his voice just as desperate. “You can’t leave me!” 

Seonghwa feels angry. He squares his shoulders and balls his fists, trying to keep from letting his feelings taint his expression. 

“Hongjoong,” he says, his voice shaking, “will you let me speak?” 

Hongjoong stares at him, wiping his eyes constantly to fight the tears that are flowing endlessly from them. 

“No,” he finally whispers. He shakes his head and stares at Seonghwa, small body breaking as a violent sob racks through him. “You’re always talking so much and you’re always so worried about everything else! I’m going to talk and you’re going to listen, okay?” 

“Hongjoong-”

“Shut up!” Hongjoong cries. “Shut up, okay? I know you don’t care, I know it’s as trivial to you as the death of a blade of grass beneath your boot, but just listen to me!”

Seonghwa stares at him. And then he nods and goes to sit down, watching Hongjoong. 

“Stars above, you don’t even know how hard you make it,” Hongjoong whispers, looking away as he wipes more of his tears off of his cheeks with his sleeve. They sparkle as they go, making it look as if an endless stream of diamonds are pouring from his eyes. “You just - I thought - I thought that it’d be easier be-because you’re just . . . you’re just supposed to be all apathetic and whorish but - but I’m - you’re so sweet and you care so much for me and you’re so smart and you think I’m smart and you treat me like - like-” his voice catches in his throat and Hongjoong struggles for his words, looking at Seonghwa desperately “-like I have a chance,” he finally says. Seonghwa opens his mouth to say something but Hongjoong holds his hand up. He looks at Seonghwa, then, eyes soft and sad. 

“Park Seonghwa,” he whispers hoarsely, “I just - I’m in love with you.” 

Seonghwa stares at him, his mouth dry and useless. 

“What?” he chokes out, disbelief filling his every fiber of being. Hongjoong sniffles. 

“You oaf,” he says. 

“I love you,” Seonghwa suddenly breathes. Hongjoong stops and looks up. It’s his turn to be surprised. 

“What?” he says, mimicking Seonghwa’s reaction to his own confession. Seonghwa gets up and walks over, leaning their foreheads together. He holds Hongjoong gently, shutting his eyes as a sob slowly climbs up his throat and shakes itself free. 

“I love you,” Seonghwa whispers. He tilts his head and looks down into Hongjoong’s eyes. The younger stares at him with wide eyes, full of fear and a flickering spark of hope. Seonghwa offers him a smile. “Will you not say it back?” 

Hongjoong throws his arms around Seonghwa’s neck and tugs him down so their lips meet in the middle. Seonghwa holds him close, wrapping his arms around his waist and leaning forward to make it easier. 

“I love you too,” Hongjoong whispers when he pulls away, though there are tears on his cheeks. Seonghwa is no different; they both know what this means. Hongjoong is married to a man who could have Seonghwa executed or thrown into a dungeon within the blink of an eye. Tragedy is inescapable. They are doomed. 

“I’m going to Ifan,” Seonghwa blurts before he can stop himself. Hongjoong’s tears, the ones not streaming down his cheeks but instead choosing to remain hidden in the pools of his eyes, stop coming as his jaw drops. 

“Ifan?” he says. “You - how?” 

“I can forge the papers,” Seonghwa says. “We - my friends - they’re going there. I can find a way. I’ll do it.”

Hongjoong gapes at him, reminding Seonghwa of the fish pulled up in the nets at the port. 

“How long-”

“Since we started it,” Seonghwa says. “I - I’ve been working on them at home. When I can.”

“Let me help you,” Hongjoong says. He looks surprised by his own words. “I - my husband, General Chang, surely you know of him, he has plenty of access to these things. I may be of some assistance to your cause.” 

Seonghwa grins at him. 

“Of course,” he says. He hugs Hongjoong close to his body. “It would be an honor.” 

Hongjoong laughs, his joy bleeding into Seonghwa. 

“Mr. Park, you truly are something,” he says. Seonghwa laughs back aNd kisses him. 

“Something you love,” he murmurs as he pulls away, eyes lidded as he tilts Hongjoong’s chin up. Hongjoong smiles softly at him and kisses him again. 

“Indeed you are,” he says. 

Wait For It

The process of creating new people out of thin air is not as hard as it seems. Here’s not to say that it isn’t hard - Seonghwa and Hongjoong have to carefully craft people who have never existed before, modifying their personalities and appearances into things that make them seem as real as possible. Seonghwa insists on keeping the papers at his house, just in case Hongjoong’s husband returns any time soon. 

That worry, though, is replaced as the rebellion scrambles up to reach the northern coast of Aestrath. Mingi is certainly going to be drafted soon, and Seonghwa overheard San’s father talking about putting his own son out there. Yunho will most likely be kept away from the fighting, as will Jongho, but Seonghwa may also be brought out. They’re very near doomed if any of that should happen. 

“How’s it looking out there?” Hongjoong says as Seonghwa gets in, sweeping him into his arms. Seonghwa sighs heavily. 

“I’ve finished with Mingi’s papers,” he says. Hongjoong hums, leaning closer. He’s warm, comforting, and someone Seonghwa can lean on. His defenses lower and the tension in his bones slowly seeps out of him as Hongjoong holds him, rocking them back and forth where they stand. 

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Hongjoong says softly. “Wooyoung’s aren’t very hard either - he’ll blend right in.” 

“What about you?” Seonghwa says. “If you try-”

“We’ll find a way,” Hongjoong says. He takes Seonghwa’s hand and rests it on his stomach, smiling up at him. “After all, since when was the general’s husband pregnant?” 

Seonghwa gapes at him, his eyes wide. 

“What?” he says. “You - us - we-”

“We did,” Hongjoong says. “We - I don’t know when, but - well-”

“That’s wonderful,” Seonghwa breathes. He pulls Hongjoong close. “Gods, I love you so much. You’re so perfect.” 

Hongjoong laughs, hugging him back. “I was worried you’d leave,” he says softly. 

“How could I?” he says. He kisses Hongjoong softly. “I love you, Hongjoong. I’m not leaving you just because you’re with child.” 

“I do suppose it was a bit inevitable, yes?” he says. Seonghwa laughs and hugs him. 

“You aren’t exactly wrong,” he says. Hongjoong hums, moving his face so it’s hidden in the crook of Seonghwa’s neck.

“I love you,” he murmurs. Seonghwa hums in response, his fingers carding through Hongjoong’s hair. 

“I love you too,” he says softly. He closes his eyes and allows his mind to empty, releasing a soft sigh. Hongjoong’s warmth is soothing and familiar, calming the storm that crashes around in Seonghwa’s head. He holds Hongjoong in his arms as they stand in the house, the silence soft and soothing as it surrounds them. 

But, eventually, they have to get to working on the papers. Seonghwa supposes it could be worse; he’s definitely seen an increase in speed since he and Hongjoong started working together on the papers. Yet he has a strange feeling that something will go terribly wrong before they can finish. Seonghwa chooses to ignore it. It’s better to have tried and failed than to have not tried at all, is it not?

The day it all goes downhill is a dark one. Seonghwa wakes with a very nearly overwhelming feeling of dread looming over him as he gets out of bed. And then he walks to the door and finds a piece of parchment to have been slid under during the night. 

He picks it up and discovers that he, along with every other able-bodied Alpha and male Beta in the city, is going to be drafted to fight against the rebellion. His stomach twists and his heart drops at the thought of leaving. Especially now that Hongjoong is with child. Their child to be specific. Seonghwa has to get at least Hongjoong and Yunho and Mingi and San and Wooyoung out of this place. He’ll rest easy once they’re all safe. 

Unfortunately, life has never been simple and it won’t happen today. After he gets home from work, Wooyoung rushes to Seonghwa’s house and opens the door. He’s panting, his face flushed, his eyes wild, and his hair tangled. Seonghwa gets up, his chair clattering. 

“He - the general-” he says. It’s all Seonghwa hears before he’s shoving past Wooyoung and bolting toward Hongjoong’s house, his heart slamming itself against his ribcage as he runs. The city streets are still decently congested, though Seonghwa finds the crowds to be parting for him with ease as he tries desperately to get to Hongjoong. His lover has told him of the horrors of his husband’s wrath - Seonghwa refuses to allow him to face him alone. 

Seonghwa sees the horse by the door and the pounding of his heart stops as his blood turns to ice. He pants and forces himself to stop, but the smell of distress, only amplified by Hongjoong’s pregnancy, makes it so such an act stands no chance against his instincts. And Seonghwa pushes the door open, past the guards at an inhuman speed. No one sees it, but, later, when authorities come to investigate the scene, they’ll see pitch-black bite marks in the guards’ necks instead of stab wounds and they’ll be left to wonder whom exactly they’re dealing with. 

“No, no, no, don’t - it’s not - please, just let me keep the baby,” a voice that belongs to none other than Hongjoong says. Seonghwa growls darkly while fear mixes in with the mindless fury that’s overtaken his mind, his hands twitching. 

“You had an affair while your husband was off fighting for your safety, and now you’re going to ask for the spawn of that peasant scum? Why, you should be thankful I’m waiting for the General’s return before killing you.” 

“No, but - the baby-”

“Shut up!” the other voice says. Seonghwa pushes the door open and stares at the scene. Hongjoong’s bedroom is in terrible condition, having been torn apart by the Alpha currently stalking about. It’s Chang Beom-Soo, the younger brother of Hongjoong’s husband, Chang Beom-Seok. He’s much younger than his brother, though he’s still older than both Seonghwa and Hongjoong. However, he’s just as cruel as his brother. Seonghwa guesses that it runs in the family.

Hongjoong clutches the tatters of his robe, trying to protect his little body. And the even smaller one growing inside of him. He’s terrified. 

Seonghwa digs his nails into the skin of his palms, not noticing how they immediately tear the skin. He feels a prickling sensation in the back of his throat, though he gives it no thought as he kicks the door open. 

“Hello, Lieutenant General,” he says coldly. Beom-Soo looks over and arches an eyebrow at the other Alpha, looking between Seonghwa and Hongjoong. 

“Well, well, well,” he says, “I’m so glad you could join us, Mr. Park.”

Seonghwa growls. 

“Leave Hongjoong alone,” he says through gritted teeth. “It was I who caused this entire ordeal. Or are you that much of a fool to believe that Hongjoong would do such a thing?” 

Beom-Soo laughs. 

“Are you telling me you took him the way beasts do?” he says. “That you forced your litter into him as he screamed and cried and begged for mercy? The way my brother was planning to?” 

Seonghwa’s scowl deepens and he curls his lip. 

“Don’t speak nonsense,” he says. “Get away from him. I’m sure your brother would be very disappointed to come back and find that his own brother had killed his husband.” 

“Who gives a damn about this bitch?” Beom-Soo says, throwing a hand at Hongjoong. “He’s useless except for carrying pups. Surely-”

Seonghwa sees red. He leaps at Beom-Soo and sinks his fangs into his throat, tearing it out. Blood spurts from the wound and the other man is dead before Seonghwa is yanked away by Hongjoong. He feels something in his hand and looks down at the small, silver blade, soaked in blood. The wound is turning black quickly, bones turning to dust as the skin and flesh shift to an ebony color. 

He stares at the body, his eyes wide and terrified. He looks down at his hands, at the blood coating them, then at Hongjoong. The younger man’s eyes are just as wide and fearful, but for other reasons. 

“Run, Seonghwa,” he says. He rushes over, tattered robe soaking up the blood as it drags over the corpse of his brother-in-law. “Run as fast and far as you can from here, okay? They’ll - you can’t die, all right? I’ll take care of it, just go.” 

“But-”

“We’ll be fine,” Hongjoong says. He tugs Seonghwa down and kisses him. “I love you, okay? I’ll see you again in Ifan.” 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa tries again, “what if - they’ll kill you. You - the baby - the others-”

“It’s fine, I’m fine, we’re fine, we’ll be fine, okay? Don’t worry about us, okay? Just run. I promise I’ll find you, yeah?” 

“Hongjoong-”

“I have friends who can take you, okay? They’ll offer you sanctuary when you get there. Make sure you reach the emperor before the news of this does.” 

Seonghwa sees, then, that there’s no way he’ll be able to convince Hongjoong to let him stay. So he nods and kisses Hongjoong again, letting the tears roll down his cheeks. 

“I love you,” he says. Hongjoong smiles sadly at him. 

“I love you too,” he says. He kisses Seonghwa’s hand. “Stay safe, okay?” 

“Only if you do the same,” Seonghwa says. Hongjoong laughs as Seonghwa rushes toward the wind and leaps onto the fence, then the ground. He clambers over and grabs the horse, snapping the reins and beginning his journey. 

“Someone stop him!” a voice says and Seonghwa feels fear cut through him. He urges his steed faster, praying for mercy from the gods as he goes through the streets. Something tells him, though, that he won’t make it. 

For You

Whatever it was, it’s right. Seonghwa’s horse is stopped and it hurls him off. He lands with a tumble and a cry of pain, hissing as he gets up. A guard leaps at him and Seonghwa growls, the small blade in his hand flashing as it finds home in the chink of the guard’s armor. A hand grabs his arm, though, and Seonghwa is yanked back, his wrists shackled behind him. 

He is brought to a dungeon to wait. Seonghwa sits quietly, curled up with his knees pressed against his chest as he awaits his now-inevitable death. He can’t quite tell what he thought would happen, to be honest. It should’ve been obvious that he was going to get caught, right?

It’ll keep them from bothering Hongjoong, though, he tries to reason to himself. It’ll distract them because they’ll be worried about finding a new lieutenant general. The others won’t struggle as much. 

He sighs, shaking his head. He doubts that’s true. If anything, they’ll only increase the security they have at the docks, making it even more difficult for the others to escape. He just has to hope they’re okay, doesn’t-

“Hyung,” a voice whispers. Seonghwa looks up and spots the outline of Mingi crouching in front of his cell. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he warns. “I finished yours and Yunho’s papers. Woo’s is done too. San is the only one, though I’m sure-”

“No, that’s not what I’m here for, you idiot,” Mingi says. He reaches around and pulls something out, sliding it in through the bars. “Here. After the guard passes by your cell three times, unlock it. That’s when they should be on their break. There should be a boat waiting for you if you go down to the cliffs. Just follow your instincts, okay? You won’t miss it, I promise.” 

Seonghwa nods. He reaches through the bars and grabs Mingi’s hand, squeezing it. 

“Thank you,” he says softly. Mingi smiles at him and squeezes his hand in response. 

“No need to thank me,” he says. “I’ll see you in Ifan?” 

“Where else?” Seonghwa says and Mingi laughs quietly before he gets up and walks off, leaving Seonghwa alone. 

After the guard passes the third time, Seonghwa unlocks the door to his cell and sneaks out. The blood on his clothes makes them stick to his skin, though he can’t bring himself to care as he runs down toward the city port. He finds his feet taking him around and toward a rocky, undeveloped area. 

There, hidden behind the rocks, a small boat waits. There’s a bag inside of it with a sword resting nearby. Seonghwa carefully picks his way around the rocks and climbs in, looking around. The water is relatively calm and he slowly sets off, rowing away and keeping a careful eye on the port as he waits for any guards to come and stop him. 

None come, and Seonghwa’s off.

The sea is calm enough. Seonghwa still feels fear filling him as he tries to row as far as he can from Aestrath’s shores, but his bigger worry is about how he’ll manage to row even as far as the far islands of Ifan. It takes at least a week to get from Aestrath to the far islands, and that’s on one of the huge boats used for transporting people and cargo. Seonghwa’s journey, if he doesn’t die along the way, will certainly take a month, and that’s not counting the storms that come with the colder months or the creatures that lurk beneath the ocean’s surface. 

Seonghwa shivers, looking around. He swears he sees a line of spines come out of the water, though it’s gone when he looks back. Instead of further investigating, he only keeps rowing. 

Just as he’d predicted, a storm comes. The sky grows cloudy and a sense of dread settles over Seonghwa with it. The waters grow fiercer, lapping angrily at the sides of his little boat. Seonghwa feels the anxiety prickling his mind and he shifts in place, looking around. 

The rain starts, and Seonghwa knows he’s fucked. He curses and grabs an oar, lifting it into his boat and looking around. Another flash of spines appears and Seonghwa’s breath catches in his throat. However, a harsh wave pushes his boat and the thought is replaced by worries of the storm now attacking him. He can’t swim, never needed to learn, and now he’s going to die because of it. Great.

Just then, a large wave looms over him before crashing over the man. Seonghwa gasps as he’s dragged under, saltwater stinging his nose and eyes as it rushes to fill his lungs. He flounders and his instincts take over, leading to him kicking to the surface. He doesn’t bother to try and grab his things; they’ve all gone to the storm. The boat, thankfully, allows him something to hold onto, and he does so desperately, gasping for air as he spits the saltwater from his mouth. He’s quite certain that he vomits, though Seonghwa can’t be sure with how impeded his vision is and how the waves sweep everything away before he can look at it too long. 

He shuts his eyes, his breathing harsh as his chest rattles. He swears something swims by his feet and Seonghwa hates that every memory of the lessons he took on the sea life living in the Turwe Sea. It’s pretty friendly to sirens. 

Seonghwa yells (or so he thinks. He can hardly hear himself think over the discordant crashing of the waves.) and then he’s dragged under. He flounders desperately in the water, trying to keep from swallowing too much seawater. His throat and nostrils burn from the salt that leaps up, though that’s the least of his worries right now. He’s much more concerned with whether or not he drowns, especially since another wave has just dragged him back under the water and he can’t see himself getting back to the surface any time soon.

Gods, please, he thinks. Risauri, I know I’m not very good at praying, but please, allow me to live to see my children. 

And why, little dragon, would I do that? something murmurs. Seonghwa forces his eyes open despite the salt and stares into a pair of glowing gold orbs. Risauri, or at least one of their children, stares at him, unblinking. Seonghwa can make out a huge, hulking body, one that represents a giant green snake. 

Please, Seonghwa thinks. Risauri tilts their head and swims forward a bit. 

You were sired by the one we hate most, Risauri says, beginning to swim around Seonghwa. Yet your sacrifice is demanded. You do not appear to be much. Something jabs him in the back and Seonghwa whips around, teeth bared. Risauri laughs. Alas, even a fool should know better than to underestimate you. You are, after all, an heir. 

Seonghwa can’t say he likes the way the god says the last word. Heir is spit into the water, warning Seonghwa to keep from asking any questions. He swallows hard. 

I mean you no harm, Seonghwa thinks. I just beg for mercy. My lover is pregnant and I want to meet the child.

Another one of you? There are few of us who enjoy the threat your kind brings, Risauri says. They hum, the sound making the water surrounding them shake enough that Seonghwa thinks he might throw up. However, one of mine own is also wanted by your father. It would be a shame if he was lost in your place. 

I swear, nothing will happen to him, Seonghwa thinks. He’s amazed he’s still alive. I’ll protect him with my life. I want only to meet my child once. 

Risauri laughs. 

Do not make empty promises, little dragon, they say. The sea snake they’ve appeared as grins toothily at him. After all, us reptiles have never been the most reliable, have we?

Seonghwa even opens his mouth to respond but, before he can even formulate any sort of coherent sentence, his vision fades and he loses consciousness.

Seonghwa awakens with the sun in his eyes. He gasps and chokes on the seawater in his lungs, rolling onto his side and holding himself up with his arm before throwing it up. His clothes stick to his skin but his hair feels dry, and the sun is hot against his skin. He’s still a bit cold, as it is early October, but Seonghwa doesn’t mind the chill enough to complain. He is, after all, still alive, which is more than he could’ve hoped for. 

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” a voice says. Seonghwa yelps and stumbles away, turning his head and coming face-to-face with a young man. His hair is a startlingly pale color (nearly white and very long. Seonghwa can see it’s tickling the base of his neck), though his eyes are a dark shade of brown (they seem to be more black, though) that Seonghwa’s seen more times than he can count. There are shining, fluorescent scales sprinkled at the corners of his eyes and dusting his cheekbones. His teeth, upon closer inspection, appear to be pointed, with a set of elongated fangs. Seonghwa’s eyes slowly trail down his body and he notes the long, black, and very threatening claws on his hands as well as the pale scales (they look like mini pearls embedded in his skin) that trail up from his hips. Seonghwa swears his eyes bulge out of his head when he notices that, in place of normal, human legs and feet, he has a long, obsidian-colored tail trailing after him. The underbelly of it is the color of pearls, though the entire thing reflects the light of the sun. Seonghwa’s eyes dart up to his neck and he notes the two gill slits on both sides as well as the fins he has as ears. 

“Are you going to eat me?” he blurts before he can stop himself. The siren looks rather insulted and taken aback by the question, arching an eyebrow. 

“My - uh, my mother sent me here to save . . . you?” he says. His voice is deep and smooth, definitely something he uses to lure people to their deaths. Gods, Seonghwa, quit getting distracted! He’s trying to eat you!

“Uh-huh,” he says, inching away from the siren. He watches him curiously and Seonghwa has no doubt that he could lunge out and grab his ankle before yanking him back into the ocean to be drowned. “And that is?” 

“Risauri?” the siren says, arching an eyebrow. He frowns. “I think they made a mistake. I thought you’d be a whole lot smarter.” 

“I’m in shock,” Seonghwa says. “I thought I was going to die, I met the god of the seas, and now a siren is claiming to have saved my life. And I’m in the middle of the Turwe Sea, somewhere known for having constant attacks from your kind.”

The siren laughs. When he finishes, he grins and holds his hand out. 

“I’m Yeosang,” he says. “Nice to meet you.” 

“Hwaseong,” Seonghwa says. Yeosang arches an eyebrow again. He seems to be a very judgmental siren.

“Risauri said your name was ‘Park Seonghwa’,” he says. Seonghwa sighs. 

“Sirens are supposed to be able to use your name to draw you back into the water to drown,” he says. Yeosang scoffs and crosses his arms, rolling his eyes. 

“Please,” he says. “If I had wanted to drown you, I would’ve done so by now. Silly humans like you are easy to kill. I don’t even eat people. It’s offensive that you’d ask such a question after I saved you from dying.” 

Seonghwa, now perched on top of a sort of spire of some sort of black rock, stares down at Yeosang. He seems to be pretty peaceful, though his claws and razor-sharp teeth promise pain to anyone who provokes him. Seonghwa thinks it’d be in his best interest to avoid doing such a thing.

“How am I supposed to get to Ifan, though?” Seonghwa says. He shields his eyes with his hand and turns to look out at the sparkling sea. It’s pretty calm, though such things are of no use to him if he hasn’t a boat.

“Why, do you think we’re truly that stupid? I’m not a human, am I?” Yeosang says. Seonghwa turns to look at him and Yeosang waves a hand, dismissing it. “Oh, please. Don’t tell me that you think you’re fully human yourself.” 

“What else would I be?” Seonghwa says, frowning. Yeosang raises an eyebrow at him before diving back into the water, disappearing beneath the inky waves. There’s a small ripple from his tail sliding in, but, other than that little detail, it’s nearly impossible to tell whether or not he was a hallucination. 

Seonghwa sighs, resting his chin on his hand as he looks out at the Turwe Sea. Gods, he prays that the others are okay. Hongjoong is sure to face some sort of punishment for the affair and possibly even assisting in the murder of Beom-Soo, though Seonghwa hopes he manages to find a way out. Mingi and San are probably being drafted by now, and Seonghwa hates to think of what will happen to Wooyoung and Yunho. He chews on his lower lip, frown deepening with every thought that surfaces in his head. 

“You truly are quite brooding,” Yeosang says, resurfacing. Seonghwa looks over and scowls. 

“My friends - my lover, my child, and my friends could all be dead by now,” he says. He turns back to face the sparkling ocean. “And I’m stuck out in the middle of the Turwe Sea with an overly-sarcastic siren as my only assistance.”

“So, do you not want my help?” Yeosang says, resurfacing. He lifts himself back onto land, pushing his bright blond hair back from his face. “Because I can send them back. I’m sure that there are plenty of creatures who would love to devour a little morsel such as yourself.” 

Seonghwa looks over at him, his eyes widening when he sees the hippocampus. It’s some sort of blue color, its scales just as fluorescent as Yeosang’s, though they seem to be a bit dull compared to the siren’s. In place of a horse’s mane, it has a long line of spines connected by a thin bit of webbing. It whinnies at Seonghwa and the man leaps down, walking toward it. Yeosang drums his claws on the rock, looking quite bored. 

“I do hope you know how to at least ride a horse,” he says. 

Seonghwa nods, though he can’t really pay much attention to the siren as he reaches toward the hippocampus and places his hand on the animal’s snout. Its eyes fall shut and it leans into his touch, a soft sigh exiting its nostrils. 

“Thank you,” he says softly. Yeosang shrugs and slides back into the water. 

“Being a prince has its perks, though I’m sure you knew that already,” he says. Seonghwa stops. 

“You’re - excuse me, could you repeat that?” 

“What, that I’m a prince?” Yeosang says. He arches an eyebrow. “I thought - you didn’t know I was a prince?” 

“Well, I don’t even really know the princes of any other kingdoms or countries that aren’t my own,” Seonghwa says. Yeosang rolls his eyes and shakes his head. 

“Just get on the damn horse,” he says. Seonghwa nods. 

“Right, yes. Apologies, Your Highness. Or is it Your Imperial Highness? Is the ocean an empire?” 

“It’s giant, of course, it is,” Yeosang says as Seonghwa boards the hippocampus. “What are you, stupid? Wait, no. Don’t answer that, I already know.” Seonghwa rolls his eyes, shaking his head. Yeosang shows him a bridle made of seaweed (or so he thinks) and puts it onto the animal, securing it with deft hands before tugging on the end. 

“Hold on,” he warns. Seonghwa grabs the reins just as the hippocampus dives under the waves, taking him with it. 

Fuck, I’m drowning, he thinks. Yeosang looks over at him and arches an eyebrow, tail cutting smoothly through the water. The hippocampus propels itself forward, then, surfacing and allowing Seonghwa to breathe. His chest heaves as he rests his head against the animal’s neck, shivering.

Yeosang resurfaces nearby, his blond hair sticking to his face. He blinks owlishly at the human, frowning.

“That was, technically, my mistake.” When Seonghwa glares at him, he holds his hands up. “What? Jongho usually tells me when I forget that you haven’t any gills!” 

“Jongho?” Seonghwa says, frowning and wiping his mouth. It doesn’t do much since his clothes, just like the rest of him, are also drenched in seawater.

“Yes, Jongho. Now, come on. We haven’t got much time to get there,” Yeosang says, grabbing the hippocampus and leading it off. Seonghwa sits and gasps for air, holding tiredly to his steed. 

As the sun sets, Yeosang stops the hippocampus and swims off to find somewhere Seonghwa can stay. He returns in around fifteen minutes, gently taking the reins before leading them to a small bit of rock jutting out from the sea. The hippocampus disappears beneath the waves once Yeosang says something to it in some sort of raspy, guttural language, and then they’re alone. 

“You need fire, I suppose?” Yeosang says, sitting on a boulder, his giant tail curled around it. Seonghwa nods. 

“I do,” he says. Yeosang sighs heavily. He frowns and looks out at the sea.

“Wait here,” he says. Seonghwa is tempted to yell that he wasn’t ever planning on going anywhere, but he manages to resist. Besides, it’s not like Yeosang can hear him anymore with how he’s disappeared into the ocean. 

Skinny Love

Seonghwa sighs, looking up at the sky. He finds comfort in the thought that Hongjoong is looking at the same one with the same constellations and moon. He shuts out any worries about what could’ve happened and sighs softly, closing his eyes and leaning back on his arms as a gentle breeze flows by. 

Hongjoong, he thinks, are you safe, my love? What of the others? Have you escaped? What of the baby?

As expected, Seonghwa receives no answer. He sighs again, though it’s more frustrated and sad than before, and brings his knees up to his chest. The waters of the Turwe are pretty calm and Seonghwa wonders if Yeosang or Risauri have anything to do with it. He doesn’t know the extent of a water prince’s powers.

I wonder if I can claim sanctuary when I get there, he thinks. Emperor Choi is supposed to be very kind and benevolent, though there’s no doubt that he’ll have heard of what I’ve done. Perhaps he’ll wait for me to explain.

“Here,” Yeosang says, interrupting Seonghwa’s train of thought. He tosses something at the man and Seonghwa realizes it’s a little bit of flint and steel. He opens his mouth to ask about it, but Yeosang’s already disappeared back under the tide. Seonghwa sighs and carefully picks his way down from his little perch, curling up on the ground. There are also chunks of driftwood, though he only notices them now. He arranges them carefully and lights the fire, shivering and sitting closely to it. He rests his head on his knees and stares up at the stars, chest twisting as he remains alone. It’s cold here, with only the wind and the waves lapping against his little island of sorts to keep him company. Seonghwa sighs, shaking his head. 

“Do you need anything for cooking this?” Yeosang says as he breaks through the water and drags himself up onto the rock. A large, silver fish is tossed in Seonghwa’s direction, another clutched in the siren’s hand. Seonghwa shakes his head and grabs a piece of driftwood to stab through the animal. Yeosang watches him curiously while eating his own food. His teeth cut easily through the scales of the fish, claws sinking into the skin. Seonghwa watches him warily, making sure the fire sits between them. 

“For the last time, I’m not going to eat you,” Yeosang says, rolling his eyes. Seonghwa hums and shrugs, continuing to roast his fish. Yeosang suddenly tosses the fish up and snaps it up, jaws closing faster than the speed of a viper striking when the body comes close enough. It disappears quickly into his throat, traveling down his gullet to his stomach. He seems unbothered by the myriad of bones that are sure to appear as obstacles to Seonghwa. 

“Why are you here, dragon?” Yeosang says as Seonghwa roasts his fish. The Alpha looks over, though he finds it impossible to hold Yeosang’s gaze. The siren’s eyes, if you look close enough, are very un-human. The sunlight earlier made them seem brown, though they appear to be a deep navy, the same color as the deepest, darkest depths of the sea. They’re clearly made for absorbing as much light as possible, though his bright, silvery hair says otherwise. 

“It was an accident,” he says quietly. He can hear Yeosang shift in place. “I - well, no, I suppose such a thing is a lie. But-” his breath catches in his throat “-I swear I’m not dangerous.” 

Yeosang hums, sounding skeptical. Seonghwa doesn’t suppose he can blame him. Less than twenty-four hours ago, he bargained with the great god of the sea. Not to mention, his clothes still have bits of blood staining them.

“I killed someone,” Seonghwa says, his voice nearly drowned out by the sound of the waves. Yeosang looks up, his eyes wide. 

“You - well, then,” he says. He looks down at his hands. “I didn’t - you didn’t strike me as such.” 

“I’m not, please don’t think such things!” Seonghwa says, waving his free hand. “I just-” his heart stops as he remembers how Hongjoong had smelled so strongly of fear, how his clothes had been in tatters from an attack with a goal Seonghwa wishes he didn’t know “-Hongjoong. He - he was being attacked. I had to.” 

I had to, he thinks to himself, though the sight of Beom-Soo’s bloody body fills his head. His eyes had been open, staring listlessly at Seonghwa himself. The blood was everywhere, thick as it poured from the wound on his neck. 

“I believe you,” Yeosang says. His voice is soft, soothing, and calm, just like the sound of the water gently lapping against their little rock. “You seem like a good person, dragon. Trustworthy. Mother agrees.” As if to prove his point, Yeosang reaches out so his fingertips brush the tips of the waves. From the ground, an oyster pushes up and out, flying open to reveal a pearl. Yeosang picks it up. It’s roughly the size of an eyeball. 

“Here,” he says, holding it out. “They think you should give it to your rhaelre .” The last word is spoken from the back of his throat, guttural and thick. It’s a grating sound, though Yeosang’s voice softens its impact, making it seem strangely musical. 

“My what?” Seonghwa says, frowning. Yeosang grabs his wrist and places the pearl in his palm, closing his fingers around it. 

“Your rhaelre ,” he says. He smiles softly, his eyes sparkling as he turns to stare at the calmed waters of the Turwe. “It means lover. Roughly. Jongho described it that way.” His smile, somehow, softens further. “He calls me by such.” 

“Jongho?” Seonghwa says, pulling his fish back from the fire. “You - Yunho’s younger brother, is that the one of which you speak?” 

Yeosang hums absent-mindedly, nodding. 

“Yes,” he says. “My rhaelre . My lover.” 

Seonghwa hums, gently taking a chunk of fish and putting it in his mouth. He chews slowly and bids Yeosang goodnight, though he’s unable to pry his eyes from the stars even as the siren swims down to wherever he goes to sleep. 

Rhaelre, he thinks. He smiles softly. Thank you, Jongho.

He wakes to the sun tickling his eyes. Yeosang, for good measure, splashes him, but Seonghwa doesn’t mind. He’s half-tempted to ask about Jongho, though something warns him from doing so. They continue their journey to Ifan in silence, giving Seonghwa far too much time to relive the murder. He can just barely feel Beom-Soo’s skin breaking beneath his fangs and the blood that spurt out, drenching him. He’d pierced the jugular and had torn his throat out, ensuring his death. 

Seonghwa shivers. He’s most certainly been convicted back in Aestrath, and, should he ever go back, he’ll be executed. Hongjoong is labeled as Beom-Seok’s property, though his brother, if he has prior consent from the owner, may do as he pleases with him. Seonghwa is certain that the general will say such to make sure Seonghwa can’t return to further punish Hongjoong. 

He shuts his eyes and releases a shuddering breath. It feels as if he’s only ever thinking about Beom-Soo or worrying about Hongjoong and the others. 

“I have a child,” Seonghwa says softly one night as he stares up at the stars. 

“What?” Yeosang says. Seonghwa shakes weakly. 

“Hongjoong,” he whispers. “He’s pregnant.” His words catch on a loud sob that pushes through his throat. “And I just left him there.”

“I’m sure-”

“I should’ve stayed!” Seonghwa yells. “I should’ve been more careful to make sure he didn’t - that nothing happened.” 

“Hyung,” Yeosang says, grabbing his wrist, “there’s nothing you could’ve done. It was either stay and die and make sure your child never got another parent or try and give the best chances of having both of their fathers to tend to them.”

“But-”

“Did Hongjoong not tell you to leave?” Yeosaang says. “I think you’re fine, Hyung.” He turns and looks around. “Now, come on, you should sleep. There’s a day left of our trip before I drop you off.” 

“Wait, what?” Seonghwa says. Yeosang doesn’t answer as he dives back under the water and swims off, leaving Seonghwa to his own devices. The man sits up and frowns, looking around.

“Yeosang-ah?” he calls, though he receives no answer. He supposes he didn’t expect one, since Yeosang hasn’t ever answered him after going off to wherever he sleeps. Do sirens sleep? Seonghwa doesn’t know, though he’s sure that Yeosang would slap him if he asked. 

He sighs, lying back and putting his hands under his head. 

“Good night,” he says to no one in particular. He closes his eyes. “Ifan, here we come.” 

The next morning, Yeosang wakes him early. He’s frantic and it isn’t long before Seonghwa himself sees why; the sky is clouded over and a powerful wind is blowing through. The waters are getting more aggressive and the hippocampus waiting for him whinnies nervously. Seonghwa chews on his lower lip as he climbs on, Yeosang swimming quickly through the waves. 

As they get closer, Ifan’s coast gets easier to see. Seonghwa squints at the trees, frowning. It looks like they’re headed to the infamous Deep Forest, though Seonghwa can’t say he knows the geography of the famed empire very well. He simply shakes his head and prays for the best. 

“Here,” Yeosang says, stopping the hippocampus. In front of them, a long, thin fishing boat rests. Its paddle is only a tall stick and Yeosang helps him on, watching nervously. 

“Thank you,” Seonghwa says, crouching down and bowing his head. The siren nods. 

“Wait just a moment,” he says, then, before he dives beneath the waves. His tail flicks a few stray droplets of water up at Seonghwa, though, other than that, there aren’t any other disturbances of the ocean’s surface. 

“Here,” Yeosang says when he surfaces. In his hands, a bag of sealskin leather resides. Seonghwa takes it gratefully, looping the strap around his neck. Seonghwa opens the bag after Yeosang continues looking at him expectantly, flipping the flap back and revealing a blade of whalebone. The handle is also wrapped in sealskin for an easier grip. There’s also a small container of some sort of paste. 

“It’s for healing smaller wounds,” Yeosang says. Seonghwa nods. “You don’t need a lot, all right? Don’t overuse it.” 

Seonghwa laughs. 

“I won’t, thank you,” he says, bowing his head. Yeosang smiles at him, reaching up to grab his hand and squeeze it comfortingly. 

“I wish you well, dragon,” he says. Seonghwa grabs the oar and waves, noticing how the waters are propelling him forward at a slow but steady pace. It’s Yeosang’s last parting gift he supposes.

“Until we meet again, Your Imperial Highness,” Seonghwa says, bowing. Yeosang laughs and the Alpha yelps as he’s splashed. Yeosang’s laughter follows him as the water moves his boat forward, the siren throwing a wave over his shoulder before leaping back under the waves. 

And then, once again, Seonghwa is alone.

Yeosang’s magic lasts a few good hours and it gets Seonghwa far enough that he’s going through a thin river surrounded by giant trees. He watches them warily, using the long stick to drag himself through. Even in Aestrath, stories of Ifan’s Deep Forest spread through the crowds; there were tales of gods wandering through and monsters never before seen by any humans. Seonghwa prays he doesn’t have to go through with any of that. 

Seonghwa ends up deciding to stay on the water for as long as he can. It’s sure to go up north to the capital, Dragon City, so it’s the easiest path for him to take. At night, he drags the boat toward the shore and pulls it up onto the banks, curling up under the shelter of the trees to sleep. He likes to think (though refuses to believe) that he’s safe there, far enough away from the waters of the river to be crossed out as a potential target for any of the creatures lurking within the water but thin enough to seem like he’d be too bony of a meal for the predators that hide in the shadows of the trees. And, well, he hasn’t been eaten yet, so he supposes it works somewhat. 

Slowly, Seonghwa continues to advance further into Ifan and farther from everything he’s ever known. He finds it funny, really, because the reason why he originally left Ifan was to get away from the man he seeks out. Seonghwa isn’t stupid; he knows he’ll have to claim sanctuary under the emperor’s gaze if he wants to have any sort of rights as a citizen. 

He sighs, looking around the forest. All he can hear is the rustling of the brush and the sounds of the animals that live in it, though none of them appear within his line of sight. He can’t say he’s disappointed about that.

The weather is also getting colder. Seonghwa’s never been a fan of the chillier months or seasons, as he’s already cold enough in the summer and Ifan is colder than Aestrath. Even though it’s still September, he’s quite chilly. Hongjoong liked that his hands were always cold, though Seonghwa found it much more endearing that he was always like a little fire. 

Seonghwa slowly gets up, looking around. He dusts himself off and then walks over to the boat, dragging it slowly out to the water. He grabs his oar and begins to push through the water, sitting down and letting his legs drag through the river as he goes. 

He can’t pinpoint when exactly it starts, but he begins to hear something following him. It makes Seonghwa’s skin prickle as goosebumps appear. The whalebone knife weighs heavily where it hangs from his belt, and Seonghwa’s hand goes to it more often than not whenever he hears any sort of rustling. It doesn’t help that the seasons have shifted and changed, the late October weather being annoyingly unpredictable. 

It’s mid-afternoon when he’s finally attacked. He rows slowly down the river, keeping his eyes peeled. He hears a particularly loud snap, then, and his hand flies to the dagger. Something growls and Seonghwa’s head whips around just as some sort of giant black monster lunges out from the brush toward him. Instead of using his gift from Yeosang, Seonghwa grabs his oar and spins it like a spear, stabbing the creature. He stumbles out of the boat and swims frantically to shore, no doubt in his mind that whatever it was could easily catch him if he remained in the water. He hears a roar from behind him but Seonghwa doesn’t dare risk looking back, instead forcing himself to his feet and bolting. He stumbles gracelessly through the forest, breathing heavily. Branches claw at his hair and clothes, a few even cutting through his skin as he moves. Seonghwa can hear the beast chasing after him, crashing through the woods as it attempts to catch him. 

As he runs, Seonghwa tries desperately to rack his brain for whatever could be chasing him. He caught a glimpse of some sort of black slime or ooze covering it, though it appeared to be similar to be a type of dragon. He’s not quite sure, though he prays it can’t fly. 

Seonghwa knows it’s over when something wraps around his ankle and tugs him back. His hand wraps around the hilt of the knife and he yanks it out, trying to cut himself free. He amazes himself and his pursuer when he does. However, Seonghwa hasn’t any time to marvel at the feat, as the monster is quite quick to recover from its shock.

He runs, then, faster than ever before. Maybe the fact that he managed to free himself is what gives him the strength to hurl himself through the forest, but Seonghwa couldn’t care less. He knows only that he has to run as far and fast as he can, that he has to get away from whatever horrible monster has decided he seems like a good enough meal. 

But Seonghwa cannot outrun a beast designed by a god. No matter the godly essence that slithers through his veins, Seonghwa cannot survive only off of his speed. He has no time to leap into a tree and he doesn’t even know if his pursuer can climb trees, though he’d rather not risk it. And he’s caught anyway, a scream torn from his throat as teeth sink into his shoulder. Seonghwa feels his knees give out beneath him as he fumbles for his knife, yanking it free and slamming it into the monster. There’s a hiss drawn from it and it lets go, scarlet rivers tumbling from the wound. 

But something very strange begins to happen. The blood slowly stops spurting and some thick, black essence colors the red flesh, tendrils encroaching on Seonghwa’s skin. He shrieks loudly, for it feels as if molten hot iron is being poured over the wound, but he somehow manages to stumble away, crashing through the forest. His eyelids grow heavier with every step as he clutches his injured shoulder, pain coursing through his veins. 

Stay awake, Seonghwa urges himself. He envisions Hongjoong before him, laughing and holding his hand out. Stay awake. His knees shake as he drags himself forward when a sudden pain in his back, abdomen, and head stop him. Seonghwa collapses with a pained yell, clutching his head. He hears the sound of something ripping and shrieks at the feeling of some sort of thing pressing against his skin from inside of his pack. His hands leap away from his head when he feels these things pushing their ways out of his skull, smooth and sharp. Seonghwa wheezes and tastes blood in his mouth.

However, there is no sensation - no sort of pain as terrible - as when the wings come. They burst forth from his back, pushing through his skin. Seonghwa sobs and screams as they do, deaf to any other sounds. He pants heavily and his eyes dart to the side to see a long, scaly tail trailing from behind him, resting on the ground near his wings. They’re covered in some sort of fluid, transparent and slimy, bits of blood intermingling with it. Seonghwa sobs weakly before his eyelids grow too heavy for him to hold up and he falls to the ground. 

He wakes to voices. But, strangely enough, he can’t hear them. They come like thoughts, hushed whispers that fill his mind. 

“He is still weak,” one of them says, lighter than the other. “ We must at least wait until he learns to fly.”

“He is a threat,” the other murmurs. It’s much deeper than that of its companion’s. “ If he turns against us, against the others-”

“He won’t. Not if we teach him correctly.” Seonghwa shivers. He can feel their gazes on him and he lifts his wings over his head to protect himself. Gently, claws push them aside. 

“Are you awake, little one?” the first voice says softly. Seonghwa forces his eyes open and stares into the silvery-gold orbs above him, his breath catching in his throat. The dragon before him is a pale sort of red with a silver underbelly. Behind it, another dragon sits, this one blue with gold dots trailing down the sides of its neck and speckles of gilt on its wings. It has a pair of long, black horns curled toward the earth and it watches Seonghwa warily as if he’ll get up and attack them. 

“I’m Jin,” the red dragon offers. Seonghwa stares at it, still wide-eyed and quite frightened. His tail rests around his feet and the furs upon which he lies tickle his scales. 

Holy shit, I have scales now, Seonghwa thinks. He lifts his hand and yelps when he sees long, black claws in place of normal fingernails, shining under the dim torchlight of the cavern. 

“Mirror,” he says, leading to Jin tilting its head curiously. 

“Your name is . . . Mirror?” it asks. The blue dragon huffs and turns around to get something, walking back with a mirror in its mouth. 

“Here,” it says. Seonghwa grabs for it and lifts the thing to his face, eyes widening at the sight he’s met with. Long, curved, obsidian horns protrude from the top of his head, shining just as his claws do. His fangs have also grown considerably, and they look as sharp as the knife Yeosang gave him. All of his teeth are sharper, now that he thinks about it, dull ends now pointed. Scales dust his cheekbones and his tongue, oh, gods, his tongue , it’s fucking forked in the middle. Behind him, two giant black wings are visible, silver speckling the membrane stretched between the stalks of bone. Seonghwa flexes them, fear coloring his features. However, for some reason, his eyes are what scare him the most. They’re even worse than Jin’s or their companion’s; unlike the big, round pools of gold with large, circular pupils, Seonghwa’s eyes are a dark gilt with long, slit pupils. He shrieks and leaps away from the mirror, stumbling back into the safety of the furs. He trips over his tail, yelping. 

“Please don’t set fire to the bed!” Jin cries. Seonghwa feels something bubbling up in the back of his throat, sparks dancing against his gullet, and hurries away. Smoke spills from his nostrils, snaking around and filling the room. He opens his mouth and flames burst forth, though Jin rushes forward and flings their wings around him. Seonghwa chokes as his fire is smothered, red scales surrounding him. 

“Come and sit,” Jin says when he calms. They nudge the man with their snout. “You must eat. Your body is not yet used to these changes.”

Seonghwa manages to nod, slowly forcing himself to his feet. Jin allows him to rest a hand on their wing, their companion sitting quietly and watching them. 

“He’s Joon, by the way,” Jin says, tilting their snout in Joon’s direction. The other dragon huffs, a puff of smoke escaping his nostrils. Jin laughs and nuzzles him as they walk by, going to a sort of stove. 

“We are both male, if you are wondering,” Joon says when Seonghwa sits down. He nods, drawing his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on top of them. Joon watches him carefully, golden eyes flickering under the light of the torches. 

“Thank you,” Seonghwa says quietly. The blue dragon seems to shrug, though Seonghwa can’t be sure. 

“You are, in essence, one of us,” he says. “A bit different, yes, but you are our kin. Though your father-”

“They are human,” Seonghwa says. He stares at his hands, at the claws where his nails once were. “I have no sort of divine blood that those I have encountered claim I do.” 

“Are you sure of that?” Jin says as he walks over. He sits back on his hind legs and hands Seonghwa a bowl. It’s full of a pleasant-smelling soup, chunks of meat and vegetables floating up to the top. 

“You would not have survived the attack if you were not sired by an immortal being,” Joon says thoughtfully. He leans down and laps up some of the soup. Seonghwa uses the spoon offered to him. “Not everything is as it seems, little one.”

Seonghwa is tempted to argue that he’s too old to be referred to as ‘little one’, though he’s also heard of dragons being quite ancient, so he supposes that the two reptiles before him have a different opinion about age than his own.

“In another life, you would’ve been my brother,” Jin muses. Joon snorts as Seonghwa gapes. He suddenly recognizes the two before him, though they are no longer the same. 

“You - the rebellion - Ilsan’s Dragon-” he stammers, pointing at them. Jin and Joon look at each other and frown. 

“Ilsan’s Dragon died in the war more than fifteen years ago,” Joon says. “His lover disappeared not long after.”

Jin nods, his eyes sparkling with mirth as he leans his head against the other dragon’s. Seonghwa finds it interesting how Joon seems to remember nothing from his past life except for Jin while the other dragon seems to know exactly who they were before they became dragons. Then again, it was never proven that Seokjin died. In the stories, it was only ever said that the world’s greatest sorcerer had disappeared without a trace. Seonghwa had only heard whispers of it, some from San and some from his family. 

Can’t We Just Leave The Monster Alive?

They finish dinner and Seonghwa chooses not to press any further on the issue of past lives. Neither of his hosts seems very keen to continue speaking about it, and Seonghwa would rather keep from pushing the boundaries of their hospitality. 

The next day, he’s woken at dawn. Seonghwa yelps in surprise and trips over his wings and tail, his horns barely missing the ceiling. Jin and Joon feed him breakfast before they begin to show him the way one folds their wings in to make sure they don’t catch on anything or get in the way while walking and how to keep your tail always trailing behind. Joon teaches him how to best guess when your horns will risk chipping or being chipped by the ceiling and how to duck your head comfortably. As the days pass, the two dragons show him how to hunt and move quietly despite his size and how his claws, teeth, fire, horns, and tail may be used as weapons. Jin knows how to control his fire much better than his mate, though Joon is better with summoning it. Seonghwa burrows his way into their hearts, finding a space there. Jin once tells him, quietly so Joon doesn’t wake, that he’s the son they’ve always wanted, his voice hushed and gentle. Seonghwa had begun to cry, finding solace in the embrace of the dragon. Joon had told him stories to lull him to sleep while Jin had hummed some sort of dragons’ song in a language lost to the sands of time.

On the last day or one of them, Seonghwa is led out of the cavern. He shivers in the late-October chill, gratefully taking the cloak offered to him by Joon. 

“You need to learn to fly,” Jin says. He squints out at the forest, looking out at the green treetops. “You will never make it out of this forest alive if you do not.”

Seonghwa turns to look with him and instinctively curls closer into the cloak. Joon nudges him gently and Seonghwa turns to look over his shoulder at him, smiling nervously. The other dragon nods and Seonghwa slowly lets the cloak fall from his shoulders. His shirts have been altered to allow his wings space and the same goes for his pants with his tail. He stretches his wings as wide as they can go, then he turns to look at Jin and Joon. 

“Do I just - should I simply run out and jump?” he says. The two dragons nod and Seonghwa folds his wings before taking a few steps back. He runs forward and leaps, extending his wings and moving so his stomach faces the ground. His instincts take over and he beats them once, propelling himself higher into the air. He hears a joyful roar and turns to look over his shoulder at his Hyungs, the two dragons grinning toothily at him. Seonghwa waves and they both breathe happy plumes of fire in return. 

And then, Seonghwa flies off. 

He cannot, unfortunately, stay in the skies forever. Seonghwa finds a large, sturdy tree to land in and curls up on a large branch, his tail wrapping around the trunk while his claws dig into the bark to keep him anchored. It’s a trick Jin taught him for when he needed somewhere to rest while on a long trip. The fur cloak given to him is warm, though Seonghwa shivers enough that he makes up for what it lacks. He shuts his eyes and sighs, deciding that he can wait for food. 

He wakes up ravenous. Seonghwa hears his stomach growl and he slowly descends from the tree, walking quietly through the forest. His nose twitches and his eyes dart around as he searches, breathing heavily as he soaks in all of the scents. He follows his nose to a nest of grouse, eating the chicks one by one and ignoring their pained cries. He misses the taste of Jin’s cooking (how strange it is that a dragon can cook, though Seonghwa isn’t complaining), though it’ll have to do. He’s hungry enough that he hunkers down nearby and waits until the mother comes by, snapping her up between his jaws just as Yeosang had all those days (weeks?) ago. Seonghwa hates that the idea of a mother makes him think of Hongjoong and he shakes his head, sighing heavily as he gets up and begins to fly again. 

It takes him three days before he first spots civilization. Jin had told him to keep flying north, though he’d made him promise to come in contact with as few people as possible until he reached the capital. Seonghwa had promised, but the promise of civilization is simply too tempting. 

He lands, and all hell breaks loose. Seonghwa walks quietly through the startingly empty streets, a frown decorating his face. He’s forgotten how scary and shocking he must appear to humans, for the first one he sees he attempts to greet. 

Much to his surprise, the woman shrieks and drops her bucket of water. Seonghwa stumbles away, his eyes wide with fear. 

“Guards!” the woman cries, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Guards, the beast has sent one of its minions! Guards!” 

Seonghwa looks around as soldiers begin to swarm the streets. They all look quite scared of him, though, their helmets unable to hide the wideness of their eyes or the scent of their fear. 

“I - I mean you no harm,” Seonghwa says, praying they’ll listen. “I am - I come looking for the emperor. Please, I just-”

A spear jolts out and takes a stab at his stomach. Seonghwa hisses, his claws shooting out from his fingers as he crouches a bit and glares around. Smoke tickles his nostrils as sparks dance up his throat, though he forces them down. 

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” he says, though it’s growing increasingly harder to keep his cool. “I just-”

A guard leaps at him and Seonghwa just barely manages to roll out of the way. He crouches on the ground, wings coming up as he bares his teeth, a hiss escaping from between his lips as he exhales more smoke. 

“Listen to me!” he says, though all the townspeople do is cower back away from him. He’s sure he’s quite the sight; with his golden eyes, wings, horns, fangs, tail, and the smoke coming from his nostrils and mouth, Seonghwa’s quite terrifying. Still.

“Stop!” Seonghwa booms as another guard tries to attack. They don’t seem to hear a word he says and the Alpha grows angrier. 

Don’t hurt them, don’t hurt them, don’t hurt them, he thinks. He shuts his eyes before shaking his head and leaping into the sky, beating his wings quickly to get out of range of the guards’ spears. He doesn’t stop until the village becomes a little smudge in the distance, shaking his head with a heavy sigh. 

Stupidly and naïvely, Seonghwa visits two more villages. He’s chased out both times, and he ends up deciding to finally heed Jin’s advice. 

However, his visits have prompted a search. Or something, Seonghwa isn’t sure. He is sure, though, that he’s being followed. When he rests at night, he can hear them. His senses are enhanced due to whatever it is that happened to him, but it appears that the rest of the world has yet to figure that out. Seonghwa doesn’t mind; he enjoys being able to hear what his pursuers are doing. 

But Seonghwa grows tired of leaving before the sun wakes and flying until it’s late at night with hardly any time to eat or drink or sleep. He’s too anxious, too on-edge about being caught. He doesn’t know much about Emperor Choi, though he hopes he hasn’t any ill intentions for him. 

The group of soldiers that seize him one day say otherwise. Seonghwa wakes up when he’s hit by something, a sort of net that weighs him down. He hisses and draws his knife while flames tickle his lips, though the knife doesn’t cut and the net doesn’t budge. Seonghwa’s tail lashes and he forces his wings to unfold to their full length, though the net holds them down. He draws them back in fear of breaking them. 

And, just like that, Seonghwa is captured. He’s dragged, hissing and roaring and yelling, to a cart and secured inside of it, his protests loud and angry. 

The longer he’s imprisoned, though, the harder it is to keep his energy up. Seonghwa is brought to the imperial palace and brought down to a cell, a guard telling him that the emperor will see him soon enough. Seonghwa sits there, golden eyes unblinking in the dark. He’s cold, his fire flickering weakly whenever he releases it into the air. His thoughts are haunted by nightmares of Beom-Soo, Hongjoong, and the rest of his friends as well as execution and even torture. 

By the time he’s taken out of his cell, Seonghwa can’t tell how much time has gone by. He winces when the sun shines in his eyes, shaking his head in protest and trying to refuse. But Seonghwa is far too weak to fight so he’s helpless as he’s hauled to the emperor and thrown onto his knees. 

Emperor Choi stares at him, his dark eyes stormy and unreadable. He’s resting the side of his face on his fist and Seonghwa’s eyes dart to the throne, noting the lack of an empress. 

“Well hello there,” Emperor Choi says, pausing to scan Seonghwa and all of his patheticness, “black dragon.”