Chapter Text
The not-so-subtle footfalls alert Crown Prince Lee Dongmin with the presence of another person, breaking away his concentration from the manuscript that he is reading.
He heaves out a sigh, committing the page he last covered into memory. It seems like the solitude that he has enjoyed in his secluded pavilion, ensconced in the center of lush bushes, sturdy pines, and a scenic fishpond, only in the company of the serenely chirruping birds and the occasional squeak of a squirrel, will be cut short this morning.
Resigning himself to his fate, he turns to face who can only be the leader of the Royal Guards, Captain Park Jinwoo. After all, who else would know of the place he retreats to whenever he feels like shirking away from his duties as the heir to the throne?
“What brings you here, Captain Jinwoo?” The crown prince makes sure that he lets his displeasure for the interruption known with the tone of his voice. Although, in all honesty, he already does have an inkling of the purpose of the other man’s invasion of his private place.
“You were supposed to be at the courtyard for training by the time you finish breaking your fast, my lord.” Captain Jinwoo resignedly states. “Your lady-in-waiting was quite apologetic when she informed me that you have refused to do sword training. Again.”
Dongmin rolls his eyes at that. It was an unprincely gesture, but he was only with Jinwoo who he has known since he was but a toddler, someone who he would also consider as his best friend if royal figures such as himself are ever allowed to have as much.
“She should have been used to it by now.” Dongmin retorts. He stands up from the pavilion floor where he has been sitting cross-legged, adjusts his crumpled purple robes, and proceeds to walk around, observing the abundance of beautiful flora around him.
Jinwoo struggles to stifle a chuckle, but expertly covers it up with a cough. He may have been well-acquainted with the prince, but his duty dictates that he always maintains a neutral countenance. “With the constant threat of flogging every time you sneak out unattended, I doubt she will ever be used to it, my lord.”
“Perhaps you should tell her that you will not have her flogged then?” Dongmin suggests. “That, or she should have realized it too by now, that you have not once punished her for letting me get away from her sight.”
He bends down and picks out an azalea from a bush, lifting it to his nose and inhaling its scent wistfully. He opens the manuscript back to the last page he has perused and places a petal there to mark it. Moments like this are rare, away from the hustle and bustle of the palace, void of the politics and power play that so burdened his heart and mind, and how he wishes that he could stay, if only for a little bit more.
Jinwoo seems to understand him though, that even if what he intends is to drag Dongmin back into the courtyard, the captain humors him with more idle chatter instead, albeit also taking the opportunity to chide him further for his perceived foolishness.
“You should at least tell her about your secret place. That would relieve her of some of her worries.” Jinwoo tells him. “And you will have someone to keep you company.”
Dongmin scoffs, turning to the guard to look at him pointedly. “I do not wish for her to find out about this place. My sole purpose for retreating to this pavilion is to have time to myself.” He lifts an accusing finger to the other man. “I certainly did not reveal this location to you either. You just stumbled upon me here during one of your regular patrols.”
“I am just saying that with your delicate frame and obvious distaste for violence, it would do well to have someone with you in case anything out of the ordinary happens.” Jinwoo explains, a tiny smirk escaping yet again from his carefully built mask of professionalism. Despite all attempts, his familiarity with the crown prince still manifests itself. “After all, I did hear some reports about a particularly troublesome scoundrel on the loose in the lower town. What if he manages to sneak into the palace? I dare not think of what will happen to you if you ever come across such a man all by yourself.”
Dongmin raises his brow at that and gasps rather dramatically. “Is the Captain of the Royal Guards telling me that they would let a petty thief within the palace walls?”
Jinwoo supposes he did set himself up for the comeback. Shrugging, he simply replies, “It was only a hypothetical question, your Highness, though I admit it did sound incriminating that my men lack the ability to keep the peace and order in the palace. I apologize.”
“I said it in jest, Captain Jinwoo.” Dongmin walks up to him and places a hand on his shoulder reassuringly, granting the shorter man a soft smile. “I know that you will not let anything of the sort happen.”
Jinwoo returns his smile then. “Still, it would do you well to be prepared for such an eventuality, your Highness.” He gambles on his luck that Dongmin’s good graces just now will also mean that the prince is already willing to be dragged into fulfilling his training duties. “We should head back. The King would be most displeased if he finds out that the crown prince has been shirking away from his responsibilities and is nowhere to be found.”
But really, the captain should have known better than to think the prince would ever desire to be anywhere near a sword. The moment the suggestion slips from his mouth, the royal in question frowns, completely repulsed by the thought.
“Must I have to involve myself with the brutish ways of a warrior?” Dongmin laments, turning in his place, and sits back down like a petulant child at the center of the pavilion floor. “Shouldn’t I, as the future king, focus more on nurturing my mind with history and the laws of the land that I may know how to better serve the people?” He turns back to Jinwoo as he lifts the book that he has been reading, The History of Joseon under the Imperial Rule of King Lee Dohyun, a journal that details how the late king and Dongmin’s grandfather has led the nation into peace and prosperity.
“While your pursuit for knowledge within the books is admirable, my lord, it still is a matter of importance that you sharpen your wits and your battle skills in equal measure.” Jinwoo patiently responds, taking a few steps forward too, before finally deciding to sit beside Dongmin, mindfully adjusting his sword which was sheathed in its scabbard by his waist.
“But as the prince, will I not be having my own security retinue?” Dongmin argues, unrelenting. “Why can I not rely on them to do the fighting for me while I focus myself on the country’s tax decrees and the implementation of more important laws?”
“Having personal guards to keep you safe is just the same as having councilors and advisors to help you with those decrees and laws, my lord. They were meant only to supplement your own capacity to think and protect yourself.” Jinwoo rebuts quickly, equally adamant to get his point across to the prince. He gestures to the book clutched in the prince’s hand. “And yet you only see it fit to study that.”
“That is because councilors and advisors cannot be trusted.” Dongmin’s face is grim as he lets out the horrible fact. “They open their mouths and attempt to persuade opinions only to further their selfish agenda and their pursuit for power.”
“And the guards would only wield their swords for noble purposes?” Jinwoo challenges, and then pries the book out of the prince’s hands. “I am certain that whatever you have read in here so far would reveal the answer to that question.”
Dongmin bites his lips hard, conceding that Jinwoo does have a point. Betrayals have not been uncommon in the long history of their state. Not even his grandfather who was known to be a just and righteous king has evaded ever being deceived by the people he trusted. But he would not admit to that out loud for stubbornness is an innate gift to him, so he simply keeps his mouth shut.
“Loyalty within the ranks of nobility is a fickle thing, Dongmin. Desire and ambition always seem to be the dictators of that.” Jinwoo, finally abandons all pretense at formality and places an arm around Dongmin’s shoulder, choosing instead to be a big brother imparting life lessons to the prince. “At the end of the day, you will only have yourself to rely on.”
And even though Dongmin does not say anything, only staring at Jinwoo, the captain can see from the prince’s bright brown irises, understanding but also anxiety and hesitation. He offers a comforting smile.
“What is it, Dongmin?” He asks, prompting the other to reveal what is on his mind.
“How about you, Jinwoo-hyung?” Dongmin finally speaks. “What is the desire that drives your loyalty?”
He stares at the younger royal, conscious of the weight that the question holds. Right before him is the prince, born into nobility, and exposed to the constant political disputes and the dangerous machinations of the court even at such an early age. Even in his own stature as a mere Royal Guard, Jinwoo is not unaware of the difficulty of finding someone you can completely trust, but how much more challenging is it for someone as high up in the ranks as Crown Prince Lee Dongmin?
Jinwoo’s expression turns pensive. He places his other hand not perched across Dongmin’s shoulders into an upright position over his knee and supports his head on his palm as he considers his response, brows furrowing in deep thought.
“I only want what is best for the people of Joseon.” He replies after a moment. “That is my desire. I suppose that’s what every royal guard ought to have as their anchor.”
“That’s… a noble aspiration, Jinwoo-hyung.” Dongmin says, own brows creasing as he takes in the other man’s response, trying to make further sense of it.
Jinwoo jostles the prince, shaking him out of his thoughts. “And you, Lee Dongmin, have a good heart. I can tell that you will always do what is right and just for the people. So, if you are worried about whether or not you have my allegiance, then I assure you that you can put your trust in me.”
The prince rewards him with a grin so wide that turns his eyes into tiny crescents. “I’ll hold you to that, hyung.”
They stay seated there in companionable silence, neither of them willing to break the solemnity of the moment that has just passed between them. They choose instead, to follow the tracks of the birds flying about with their eyes, basking in the gracefulness of their flight and melody of their song.
So much time has passed, however, and the sun’s rays have started heating them up on their backs, telling them that it is way past midmorning and reminding them of the responsibilities that they have thus far chosen to ignore.
“While I understand that you do not wish to train today, I still need you at the courtyard to meet our new recruits.” Jinwoo eventually breaks the quiet that they have let themselves be cocooned into. “Perhaps you can give them a few encouraging words and inspire their confidence. It would mean a lot for them to hear from their Crown Prince.”
“I suppose I should do that, at least.” Dongmin relents. He may despise the art of combat, but that does not mean he is not keen to do the rest of his princely duties either.
Jinwoo gets up on his feet first before offering his hand to Dongmin for support.
“I can stand up by myself, you know.” Dongmin complains, even though as he says it, he reaches out to the extended hand anyway.
“It was a matter of courtesy, Dongmin. You could have opted not to take it.” Jinwoo banters, the irony of talking about courtesy while not addressing the prince correctly is not lost on either of them, and they share a brief moment of laughter at that.
They make their way to the prince’s chambers, deciding first to deposit the book he has brought with him by his study. His designated eunuch and lady-and-waiting are there too, and they both cried out in relief upon laying their sights on him earning them both a roll of the eyes from the prince and a quiet chuckle from Jinwoo who is following a few steps behind him in deference to his rank.
They fuss over his person, trying to make sure that no harm has befallen their beloved albeit foolhardy prince. Dongmin has attempted to reassure them that he is well and fine but all his words only fall into deaf ears as they continue to go around him, checking that his face is unmarred and that every limb remains to be intact.
“You can’t blame them.” Jinwoo mouths at him from where he is amusedly watching them a few steps away. “It’s their job to worry over you.”
Dongmin sighs as he resigns himself to patiently wait it out. He supposes this is his price to pay for always leaving them in the dark when he wants to be alone. They eventually release him after deeming him safe and injury-free and they quickly assist him into changing into a robe less flowy and more fit to his lean physique, an attire more fitting for the battlefield.
“You may not be a warrior, but you still have to look the part.” Jinwoo reasons when he has attempted to complain.
A little while after that, their little ensemble eventually makes it to the courtyard by the West Palace where the regular morning training for the guards is held. From a distance, Dongmin can see that a skirmish of sorts between the new recruits with the more senior ones is in full swing, and briefly, he wonders who has taken over leading the group if Jinwoo has been with him for quite a while.
He asks as much to his friend, who grins at him in return. “It is Prince Sanha, my lord.” Jinwoo replies to him formally, conscious of the fact that there are other people now within their vicinity. It will not do for Jinwoo to act too familiar with the other lest he is accused of disrespecting the heir.
A sense of pride and awe flashes across Dongmin’s face at the mention of his younger brother, sharing the same father as he is. Of course, he knows that Sanha is very much capable of leading the men in Jinwoo’s absence. He may be a few summers behind Dongmin but he is definitely growing into his own skin, mastering the art of sword combat that Dongmin so clearly hates at a much faster pace.
There is a light spring in his step as Dongmin moves toward the field, closer to his sibling who is yet to notice his presence. Though in an effort to maintain proper decorum in front of the strapping young recruits, he places his hands behind him, straightens his shoulders, and keeps his facial expression passive although the sides of his mouth are aching to turn upwards in a smile.
“Prince Yoon Sanha, I trust that everything here is in order?” Dongmin raises his question with as much authority as he can muster as soon as he deems himself near enough to be heard, barely reigning in his excitement. Behind him, he hears his lady-in-waiting sputter, having taken away from her the chance to announce his presence.
The guards in the middle of their own duels immediately stand in attention as they recognize his voice, their backs straight and muscles taut. The newer ones who have neither seen him nor heard of him before, partially due to his absence in training, spend a few moments in confusion before realizing that it is indeed the Crown Prince who has graced them with his presence. A few of them fumble with their swords and shields in their struggle to hurriedly give the same level of reverence to Prince Dongmin as that of their seniors.
Dongmin pays no mind to any of them. For in front of all these guards is his brother Prince Sanha, a lanky young man just twenty-one summers young, and is the light of Dongmin’s sheltered palace life. He has been commanding the troops just seconds ago, but at Dongmin’s call, he has turned to him, eyes lighting up immediately at the sight of him. Without a doubt, the younger prince cherishes Dongmin just as much.
“Brother!” Prince Sanha exclaims out loud. If the guards feel uncomfortable at the informal address in public, they do not show it. And yet, Sanha, as if suddenly remembering where he is, swiftly turns back to them and instructs them to be at ease and to pay them no mind. Once they have reluctantly obeyed, he drops his sword on the ground, leaving behind a metal clattering on solid ground as he rushes forward to envelop Dongmin into a tight hug. “How have you been?”
It is not exactly rare for the two princes to see each other. In fact, they find themselves in each other’s company often enough what with the court never running out of ceremonies to hold or feasts to celebrate that require the presence of the entire royal family. It is just unfortunate that in those situations, the brothers are always forced to act formal and stiff, to appear solemn and regal in the face of countless personalities who would grab at the opportunity to sneer at them at the slightest hint of improper decorum. Sanha’s mother, the Royal Consort, in particular, has been very critical of Dongmin, and neither does she favor any budding friendship and solidarity between the two princes. It is no secret to anyone that her animosity for Dongmin stems from the fact that it is he who has earned the birthright to the throne given that he is the king’s firstborn, and not her own son. It is truly nothing short of a miracle that Dongmin and Sanha do get along even with all the pressures of family, the court, and the crown surrounding them.
“I am well, Sanha.” Dongmin says returning the embrace, relishing in its warmth, allowing it, rare as it is for them to be away from the judgmental eyes and scheming lips of other royalty and their cohorts. “And you?”
“I’m feeling great, hyung!” Sanha answers, moving away but not breaking the contact just to look at Dongmin in the face. He has a blinding grin on his face, an expression Dongmin knows is also reflected on his own. “But even greater now that I get to see you!”
“It has been a while, has it not?” Dongmin asks, head tilting to the side.
“It wouldn’t have been if only you just regularly attended the training.” Sanha retorts with a pout, and Dongmin has to chuckle softly at that as he acquiesces with the younger man’s point. He cannot dare argue with Sanha the same way he does with Jinwoo.
“I love you, but the thought of holding a weapon in my hands is enough to discourage me from attending.” Dongmin discloses in a whisper, aware that the men around them may very well be listening in on their conversation.
This earns him a giggle from Sanha who is no stranger for his strong distaste of weapons and martial arts. “Woe betide any man who hands Crown Prince Lee Dongmin a sword.” He jests a bit loudly, obviously not sharing the same discretion as his brother, and Dongmin can only shake his head fondly in return.
A soft cough a few feet behind Sanha catches the attention of both princes and they both direct their attention to the source, Jinwoo, who has the younger prince’s sword in his upturned palms. Apparently, the captain has already walked past Dongmin and Sanha while they are having their moment to pick up the sword Sanha has so carelessly dropped behind him in a bid to run towards Dongmin.
“You should treat your sword with more care, my lord.” Jinwoo says, head bowed as he extends his arms further toward Sanha for him to pick up the weapon.
Sanha does as much as he apologizes profusely to him. “My apologies, Captain. I was but taken by the moment when I saw my brother in the flesh on the training grounds. You know how rare this happens.”
“The new recruits have probably attended more sessions than he had in his lifetime.” Jinwoo nods his head in agreement.
“Hmm…” Sanha places a hand under his chin as if deep in thought. “I think you are right, Captain. And this is their first day.”
Dongmin can only roll his eyes fondly at them. “I will not have either of you tarnish my name in front of these good men who I have not yet even properly met.” He finally breaks his hold with Sanha as he turns to Jinwoo and says in a lowered tone. “Come now, Captain. Announce my presence to these men.”
Jinwoo nods and then bows to him reverently, smoothly getting into the role of a loyal and subservient subject. He turns to the group at large and declares in his most imposing voice. “Attention, gentlemen!”
Bustling ensues as the guards quickly scramble onto their feet and head into line, the new recruits sticking out like sore thumbs as they get lost in the fray, not knowing where to stand. Eventually, they manage to find space for themselves and come up with a decent formation.
Dongmin stands in front of them, affecting an air of regality as he waits for Jinwoo to call on him to address the crowd.
“Bow down to His Royal Highness Crown Prince Lee Dongmin!”
The men manage to bend low in unison this time around, save for one seemingly out-of-place young man in the last row, catching the prince’s attention. Dongmin casts an amused glance at him as he fumbles, overextends his bow almost tripping before he manages to right himself and fall into the same position as the rest of the troops.
“Rise.” Dongmin commands authoritatively and yet gently after a beat, eyes still lingering in the direction of the wayward recruit at the back. He is simply curious to put a face to the man who has passed the stringent screening even though he appears to be just as clumsy, if not clumsier, as the Crown Prince himself. He is well-built, if the bulk of muscles in his arms are any indication, and tall too, perhaps near Dongmin’s height. Maybe he has passed due to his incredible physique and not because of the talent, not unlike how Dongmin is demanded to do this due to his station rather than his interest. He might have to remind Jinwoo, later on, to never assess his candidates based on physicality alone.
Their eyes meet as the man in scrutiny raises his head just as the prince has instructed them all to do, and in an instant, Dongmin’s breath hitches and he finds himself choking on nothing but air. There is quite a distance between him and the man, but the prince has felt a jolt of electricity that has thrummed between them the moment they have looked at each other. The man is breathtaking, in both the literal and the figurative sense of the word, and Dongmin woefully reproaches himself for not being able to contain his reactions.
Jinwoo, Sanha, his eunuch and the attendants are immediately by his side to check up on him, and he has to turn his back on the men as he bends down to catch his breath so as not to lose more face than he already has in the wake of his coughing fit.
Sanha pats him on the back in a valiant attempt to help him while Jinwoo lowers himself down to his level to look at his face in concern.
“Hyung, what happened?” Sanha asks after he deems Dongmin well enough to speak, his coughing having already subsided. “Are you alright?”
“I-I’m fine. N-no need to worry.” He stutters, voice raspy. And then to his attending lady, he asks. “Will you please bring me a cup of water?”
The woman bows deeply before heading toward the royal kitchens not too far from the West Palace, leaving tiny clouds of dust billowing behind her as she dashes away.
“Do you think you can speak to them?” Jinwoo asks, tone dripping with concern. Dongmin turns his head back to survey the field of men, all fidgeting every so discreetly as they wait to find out what is going to happen next. In the periphery of his vision, he can see the outline of the handsome new guard, can feel the stare the other man is giving him, and he refuses to turn in that direction lest unwelcome desires come at the forefront of his consciousness yet again.
Instead, Dongmin turns back to the captain and shakes his head forlornly. “N-not without that water, Jinwoo.”
Jinwoo nods his head in understanding before turning to the younger prince. “Well, Prince Sanha, have you addressed them yet?”
“No, not really. We started right away with the drills after you left.” Sanha informs him.
“Perfect. Perhaps you can share your own thoughts with the new recruits while we wait for Prince Dongmin to recover?” Jinwoo suggests.
“Alright.” Sanha nods his head, solemn. And then he turns to Dongmin, a warm smile quickly taking over his earlier seriousness. “Take it easy, hyung.” He says as he puts a calming hand on Dongmin’s shoulder and squeezes it. He does not wait for a response from his older brother and instead, turns around and scans the crowd about him. “Will the new recruits come forward please.”
Behind Dongmin, he hears another shuffling of feet.
“Before anything else, allow me to express my deepest gratitude to all of you for choosing to take this path.” Sanha finally begins once the movements have settled. “For not many men will have been brave enough to take on this daunting career. Being at the frontline of ensuring the safety of the people within the palace is no easy task. But you men have so gathered the courage to take it upon your shoulders to do so. For that, I, Prince Yoon Sanha, truly admire all of you. But while there are certainly many ordeals that you will have to face in your training and your eventual roles, there is also honor. Honor in that you protect the safety of the monarchy, defend the councilors and legislators, the officials, the historians, scholars, and the ladies of the court – all of whom mold the present into greatness and make it permanent in the annals of the Kingdom of Joseon for the future generations to read about. And in that, you make yourselves form part of history, too.”
He pauses, letting his words sink in. “And for you, being part of that history begins today. So, stand proud and tall, but also brace yourselves – for this is a rare honor and responsibility both. Welcome to the palace, gentlemen.”
Sanha concludes his speech, and Dongmin can only look at his brother in awe. Not only is the younger prince an excellent swordsman, but he is also quite a promising statesman, youthful, idealistic, and passionate. Surely, had the brief message been intended for Dongmin, he would have been deeply moved and inspired.
The new guards bow their heads respectfully as protocol dictates, and when they have stood anew, Dongmin can clearly see the admiration they have for Sanha shining in their eyes. They may not have said it as much in words, but he can tell from the way seem to be standing impossibly taller and prouder than their height allows them, that they have been greatly and deeply moved.
His lady-in-waiting arrives just right after Sanha finishes speaking, and Dongmin gratefully takes a sip from the cup of cool water she has brought for him. He sees Sanha walk up to him.
“Are you okay now, hyung?” The younger prince asks again as he makes it to his brother’s side. Dongmin nods in response, earning him a relieved smile from the other. “And how did I do?”
“Hmm…” Dongmin tilts his head to the side, pretending to mull over his response. “It was decent.” He ultimately says, although the mirth in his crescent eyes and the upward curve of his lips belie his words.
Sanha scoffs, affronted. “Hyung! Admit it, I did really well!” He actually pouts, and Dongmin wonders how such an adorable young man can act so mature in a matter of a second.
“Alright, alright.” Dongmin relents, laughing. He places a calming hand on top of Sanha’s head “You did more than decent, Sanha. That was an amazing speech.”
Sanha preens at the praise.
A quiet cough, and for the second time that morning, both princes turn their heads to find Jinwoo watching them fondly. “Sorry to break the moment but Prince Dongmin, I believe you have an audience waiting for you.”
Right. He ought to deliver his own too.
He messes with Sanha’s hair one more time before he moves forward and returns to face the guards again, still mindfully veering his eyes away from the handsome man earlier.
“Gentlemen,” He begins, his tone mellow but with the undercurrent of firmness. “I would like to commend you all for making it amongst the ranks of the court’s esteemed royal guards. You standing right before me here within the Palace walls could only mean one thing – that out of all the men in the Kingdom of Joseon, you all have been deemed the most capable of being the protectors of the state.”
“I have known Captain Jinwoo for a long while now, and I am certain that he takes great prudence in selecting the men who would be joining the ranks. The royal family has long entrusted him with this responsibility, and thus, we extend that trust to whoever he chooses, for he must have seen something truly special in each one of you and that is why you are here. I say this in case you doubt your own abilities and you worry that you might not belong here,”
“Do not take the trust that we have placed upon you for granted, however. This will never be an easy undertaking, and you may find yourselves in times where you will have to choose between what is good and what is easy, or between what is evil and what is necessary. Your beliefs and principles will be challenged. And in those times, I encourage you to look into yourself and reflect on your why. Why did you join the royal guard? What is your purpose here? What is your goal?”
“What does it mean to be a royal guard?” He goes on, and then he briefly turns to Jinwoo, giving him a rather cheeky smile. “A friend of mine told me that as royal guards, your anchor ought to always be what is best for the people of Joseon. And I hope you that all share in this belief. Only then will you never let your decisions get clouded and your actions doubted. Do your best.”
If Sanha’s speech has left them inspired and bolstered their egos, Dongmin’s has intended to make them contemplate, a message intended to ground them and at the same time challenge them to find their purpose.
Dongmin nods his head to Jinwoo to signify that he has nothing more to say, and the captain turns to his comrades and orders them to bow once more.
“Thank you for your wise words Prince Dongmin and Prince Sanha.” Jinwoo declares on behalf of the other guards. “We will treasure the trust you have placed upon us, and we will keep it as inspiration to always do our best for our duty to the Kingdom.”
He walks back to the side where Sanha and Jinwoo are both beaming at him with pride. When he reaches them, he returns the question his younger brother has asked previously. “Sanha, how did I do?”
“Very well, hyung!” Sanha cheers. “That part about doing what is best for the people of Joseon was particularly impressive.”
Dongmin grins at that as he regards Jinwoo beside them. “I suppose Captain Jinwoo deserves the credit for that.”
Sanha nods, unsurprised. “I figured as much. He must have been that friend you were speaking about.” He deadpans. “You don’t have that many friends besides me and Jinwoo-hyung after all.”
“Ya! Yoon Sanha!” Dongmin admonishes the younger man, although there is no real heat to it.
Sanha laughs, unrepentant, and Jinwoo cannot help joining in as well, until he stiffens all so suddenly, eyes going wide, before catching himself and standing ramrod straight in attention.
Before Dongmin and Sanha can even ask what has him acting up all of a sudden, they hear a lady-in-waiting speak up from right in front of the West Palace gate.
“His Royal Highness, King Lee, and her highness Lady Yoon have arrived.” The words reverberate throughout the wide courtyard and everyone does an abrupt about-face to turn their attention to the entering royals before bowing once more in reverence. Dongmin and Sanha do the same.
Dongmin listens attentively as strong and confident strides strike the pavement as the King and his consort make their way to the front of the squad. He sends a grateful prayer to the deities above for making him decide to actually visit the training today or else his father would have found out that he has been slacking off.
But really, it is also such a surprise to him why the king has suddenly decided to grace the training with his presence this morning. He has never been inclined to do that before, has he not? Dongmin has not been to the field for a few consecutive days now. Will the king’s morning routine have changed in that short period of time?
Judging by Jinwoo’s initial reaction, this is not a usual occurrence either. He will not have been so surprised and then turn rigid if he has expected the elder royals to be here.
“Rise.” The King commands, stern and powerful, cutting through the thoughts spinning around Dongmin’s head.
And when he is upright once more, the Crown Prince dares a glance at his father. To his surprise, he meets his gaze, cool and calculating, not at all the warm paternal attention and affection that one would expect from a father.
Dongmin’s stomach immediately fills up with cold dread.
That can only mean two things.
His father knows.
And he’s going to pay for it.