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The man overpowers Chan, laughing as he presses him on the ground. His blade touches Chan's neck, and if the Wolf Warlord takes a deep breath, more of his blood will feed the ground.
"I will savor this,” his voice is brutal in it's sheer violence.
And the moment the blade presses down harder, his prince's voice echoes in his head.
"Come back to me."
Chan's mind buzzes as the energy goes through his blood, because giving an order to your spouse is the strongest thing you can do in your union. Chan is forever equal and under the prince, has given him his own volition. All because devotion to your partner courses through his country's tradition, as if it's what makes them whole.
"That 's an order."
Chan hears himself make a sound akin to a roar, and his shoulder explodes in pain as he wrenches it out of the man's feet. He spins and knocks the man onto ground, sweeping his feet under him. Chan rips the blade from the soldier's hands as he collides with the red tinted mud and the man gurgles as his own weapon pierces his chest. Chan was now on his feet again and already pulling the sword out, uncaring at the way the steel drags through the flesh, tearing it like an animal's fangs.
His arm is useless like this, so he pops everything back in place, pain making his ears whistle and his eyes shake with darkening edges. He breathes in deeply, exhales, cuts an arrow going through the air aimed at his eyes and rushes to where Seungmin is fighting two people alone.
Slashing through the first's back as if it's dough and kicking the other forward in the direction of Seungmin's blade, he barks loudly to the soldiers that can hear.
"We fight together!"
And something dawns in Seungmin's face, who then presses against Chan's back after pushing the limp opponent off his sword.
They tear through the battlefield, people starting to group in at least three and covering their blind spots. Chan's blood is running so high that he howls high in the air and the ones of his that can, holler back with new fervor.
Seungmin smirks to him in a way that would frighten even the most calm, that with the way his innocent features glinted with intelligence and reflected light where blood had splashed over his cheek. Seungmin slashes a man’s throat and heads to his fellow soldier, Jisung, who had been trying to cut through a shield bearer with his teeth bared in a snarl. Chan knows the shield bearer won't come out of battle, not when Jisung looks at Chan and grins around his eyepatch as if he has been nothing but wild since he was born.
Moving alone now, he clashes against foes, creating openings for his own people and more growling encouragement and orders than humanly speaking.
Minho's soldiers watch in shock as most of Chan's Wolf Soldiers suddenly all go at the battle with ten times more ferocity than before, just because they heard their Warlord snarl words. Some of his Wolves went as far as tossing their weapons away and tackling their enemies to the ground, only to get back to their feet and pick up their weapons right after. Most were now donning a face paint of red as Minho's soldiers used the opening to their favor.
That's what made the two dangerous. That's what their union made. Ravenous and brute strength of the Wolves that neared berserkers in battle, paired with the agility and skill of the big cats. One is made to rush, tear and open and the other to watch, wait and strike, and so the two fit like pieces exactly where they clashed.
The Wolf parries a jab intended for his chest, meeting the eyes of his now opponent, engaging him on directly while they pushed back an forth, trying to see who would stumble back first and die.
"Come back to me," His spouse had said moment before he rushed out.
Chan grabs their spear with one hand and cuts it in two with his hand. He then twists the broken javelin and impales the enemy right in their chest.
"I'll try."
Someone gets a cut on his right arm.
"No, you'll not only try."
And he slashes their throat in retaliation.
"My prince?"
Chan spots the line break, the place most of his had fallen, where they lay on the floor staring at nowhere and into beyond. Some have their insides spilling on the mud, adding to the mix of sweat and blood that coats their boots already. He sees Changbin's broad back with Hyunjin right by him, circling a giant, someone who is at least two meters and a half tall, muscles bulging and swords dripping with gore.
Chan's shoulder hurts like a bitch and his arm stings with every movement, his blood is high, but it is also dripping down his skin as if he has some to spare.
Even so, he moves even faster.
"Come back to me."
The giant pushes Hyunjin away, and has the soldier tumbling away. Changbin growls something in response, vile enough Chan could sense it's venom despite the cacophony of steel and cries for survival. His soldier charges forward, only to suffer the same fate as his friend, claymore slipping on the ground away from where he lands.
Chan is running so fast he barely feels his feet touch the ground.
Hyunjin manages to reach and pull Changbin up, and both of their faces aim up with fear as the giant prepares to strike the two. They are paralyzed and the enemy soldier is making this a public execution.
The Wolf discards the broken spear and picks up another fallen sword on the ground.
"That's an order."
"Move out of the way!" He screams as he jumps over both to meet the giant's swords the moment they go down.
Sparks go up in the air when the metal clashes and Chan can smell the fire going under his skin, the way his calves burn under effort to hold the blades back from gutting him. He curves back with a frown, as the giant continuously applies more strength, grinning with precoce triumph. When his legs are about to cave, the Wolf pulls his weapons out of the dispute and rolls out the way as the swords plunge down now that nothing was countering the blow.
The trick worked partly Chan notes, as one of the blades digs into the ground and the giant abandons it the moment they cannot pull it out with a swift move. He clangs both of his mismatched blades, pulling his lips back to show his teeth in challenge and now the giant's eyes are completely on him. It's heavier and a more violent stare than before, of someone who rarely got even close to having a fair match and was not planning on letting it go lightly.
This huge soldier has to go down before anyone with arrows decides to intervene. But this isn't someone he can beat with pure strength and endurance, they have it in waves more than Chan.
So he thinks about Minho. Because Minho is someone who knows what it means to look until a small displaced thing shows up, the one that will take you to that person's heart, the one you stab and twist until their body gives in. Until then, it's about rounding the target and slinking away in every way possible.
He goes in with his husband's image in his head and his own heart thundering with something scalding and worse than sage and rosemary in your drink. His skin is made of steel while Minho's order rings in his head.
The Giant raises his blade way too high after one too many frustrated attempts at catching the Wolf staying still, and that is as good as it gets for an entrance.
Chan slides underneath one of the giant's wide berth attacks, makes a shallow cut on one of his calves.
They roar and Chan sneers when their sword goes close enough that now there is a cut going over the length of his face horizontally. Everything tastes like iron while dragging air in and out.
He steps back further, trying to think while all his training and being is whispering to him to just give in and force an entry.
Yet, Chan had dodged and was still hit after making an insignificant dent on the giant. The enemy’s range is too big, and covers almost everything around him, be it close or afar. Chan's men don't work with arrows and Minho's archers are at the palace, hitting from above instead of the crossbows on the ground from the enemies. His own attacks are close ranged due to his current weapons, which makes this unviable. He'll be cut in half before even getting somewhere higher than their thighs.
The telltale sound of the cord of a crossbow being pulled back makes his left ear itch. It will be too late this way. Spotting weakness is fruitless, he isn't his husband, he is not trained for it and is wasting energy jumping out of this person's attacks and closer to the waiting blade of someone in the crowd. That is as fatal as all his other options.
He is about to give up in thinking, just charge with everything he has like a hopeful moron when his attention is called to flowing long blond hair. Hyunjin is circling the guy from the back, feet light and body oozing such a presence it was a wonder the giant hadn't notice. He was glancing at the side, looking almost comical with his exaggerated faces compared to the fuming steel gaze he puts on during fights.
Changbin has his claymore propped like a ramp over his back, face urgent and trusting. It's not easy to come out of this pose, he knows how long he has until it comes to bite him in the neck.
Chan is a fool, and the fact makes him smile, feeling his teeth are too big for his mouth at the moment, too sharp. He is not his husband, he is a Wolf soldier, and fighting alone was never their specialty when it comes to bigger prey.
He swerves another attack and Hyunjin pierces the giant's hand with a well thrown knife. The giant hollers and let's go of their weapon in reflex, clutching their hand to their chest in reflex. Chan lunges to Changbin in a second, goes over the ramp while Hyunjin runs to cover his friend from opportunists.
He jumps.
The giant gets two new holes to breathe at their throat that turn into a big one as Chan finishes slashing it. It takes a moment for that wide pair to turn glassy.
The wolf warlord grabs at the enemy's now red soaked shirt as they fall onto the ground soundly, managing to still be on his feet even so.
The circle of battle around them quiets for a moment, before Chan lets out a victorious shout, one that scratches on the best way possible at his throat, and pulls his blades out of the now dead foe. All allies join in a collective roar, and the battle erupts again, now more energetic than ever on their side.
Chan cuts another arrow in the air and the crossbow user actually turns to run when he looks at the warlord, panting and with the blood of his cut dripping down his chin and canines.
"Yeah! That's how we do it!" Jisung cheers from the side.
Changbin comes to Chan when he jumps to the ground, while Hyunjin runs to Yeji, who is waving for aid.
"What in the cursed blood did prince Minho promise you?" Changbin presses their backs together as more enemies approach.
"Nothing," Chan answers with a grin as he counters a lance that was headed to his stomach. "I'm just under orders here."
Changbin curses with a smile on his face.
The frail remnants of the enemy's army retreat at last. It was almost pitiful, how there were just some odd ones out, grouping to a small bunch at the other end of the battle field, in contrast to their own big bunch that was still standing. Many of whom looked ready to keel over, if out of emotional strain or just injuries is unclear, but despite that, we’re still standing. They all stayed still for several moments, blinking owlishly at the small figures escaping in the horizon.
The mud under them is more of a swamp now, and it was hard to tell apart who was theirs to take home to burn, cry and honor and who they were supposed to hand to the enemy so they could do their own rites. Weapons of the fallen litter the place, comas that finished telling their stories.
It's over for all, be it in different senses to each as it was.
The Wolf raises his sword up with a crooked grin and all the soldiers break in cheers. Some sob as their legs finally give out and their comrades hold them up.
Chan sinks his sword on the ground, wiping the blood over his mouth that had started to dry and stick. The wound was superficial compared to his other facial scar, having already stopped bleeding with his people's sped up healing, but the taste of iron was making his mouth bitter now that he could properly breath. His shoulder was starting to really call for a bit of attention now that the insanity of battle wasn't alleviating it, and he was using his sword to make sure his legs didn't tremble in the face of others.
Nonetheless, there was no stopping just yet, not until all the ones who needed immediate attention were back to the castle, not until he recovered all the fallen and sorted them out. A battle takes a lot, and usually the aftermath is the time you notice just how much.
For all his people worship blood, they know that the greatest glory there is is to have them running hot inside of you, to have them warm up your friends, family and lovers. The blood turns dark if it goes cold, and the red is sacred despite black being honoured above the stars.
Fighting is them, it's the Wolves, but it's breathing the fresh air of the morning and hearing your heartbeat speed up as you wake up that makes it possible. Those things make them human, and then they could entertain becoming the rest.
A lot of them have left their humanity behind to join the hunt in the sky today, and Chan hopes they find happiness and purpose that way, find companionship and old knowledge. Being idle has never led to good among their lot, even as kids.
He hopes Minho's own find peace in the gardens that are promised to them.
Chan pinpoints the others among the crowd, his own close brothers, counting them in his head.
Seungmin looks close to hitting Jisung over something the other is talking, way too quickly, probably in a lasting rush from the battle. Changbin is helping Hyunjin up from where he is stuck in the mud, the soldier's skin tinted red more in shame than really from battle. Minho, Felix and Jeongin usually would have been among them, and the lack of the three for a moment made Chan's head falter, howl in loss that didn't exist.
This was a victory for them, the victory needed to assure that a treaty could be made. Minho is safe in the castle, with Jeongin and Felix to protect him if he so needed. Now it was about politics to finish this, a war with pointed battles and attacks, one big showdown that set if some peace could even happen in the first place. A possibility for peace paid with death, as ironic as all things in life.
"Guys?" He calls, making the four look in his direction.
They come fast after Chan curved his hand in his direction, Hyunjin even being plucked from the ground like a radish by Changbin.
He opens his arms and they form a circle, hugging and just breathing together, putting their heads close.
"Blessed by the blood," Chan says, Jisung nodding at his right and his wet hair brushing against his temple and Seungmin muttering the mantra too by his left, something he started to join in after he became one of the boys in the Wolf's heart. "And forged by the bonds. Thank you all for staying with me."
He obeyed the reason for his devotion, and for now, he will focus on the way it makes his blood sing high. It will have to be enough to get the dead all set and then a bath.
"Hyunjin and Jisung, take Changbin back." Changbin looks ready to complain. "No, Bin, I see the way you're favoring one side and how pale you are. Seungmin, with me please."
The three leave, while Seungmin cocks an eyebrow up at Chan.
"They can deal with the aftermath better than you think," he comments.
He had always been too observant, which was good most of the time. It was a problem only when he caught onto what Chan was on immediately, way better than anyone ever could. Seungmin was, however, practical at heart. Chan was a bit softer, which meant he read Chan's actions well, but didn't catch his intentions completely many of the times.
"I know. But Jisung crashes after a bout of adrenaline, which means he is less emotionally stable than normal, and Hyunjin is soft hearted. Although both can handle it and will do it in the face of necessity, there are some things I can manage to spare them from."
Seungmin doesn't comment about it further. The three, Seungmin, Jisung and Hyunjin, had grown together after all, training with and then under Minho. If someone knew those two was Seungmin, and his silence is as good as a confirmation Chan is right.
The warlord crouches next to one of Minho's soldiers, closing their eyes gently with his gloved hand and breaking their distinct long nail black nail on their index so that the poison on it doesn't get on any open wounds of the living. The helpers were all part of the battle as well after all, most had at least one minor cut and that toxin was made to kill in, at most, ten minutes.
"Some people here are more parts than a whole, what do we do about that?" Seungmin stares at one of the corpses, previously gutted by the giant and their face now stepped on until it's hardly anything but a bloody pulp.
The Wolf Warlord looks at the blood turning black. One of theirs, a Wolf now in the eternal hunt. Just who, they will have to call for a higher spiritualist from their territory here to know. Minho's was another business altogether.
Not too far from them sat a detached leg. There is a finger in his line of vision. Those are not big enough to recall for spirits to answer.
"We figure it out and if we don't, we honor them anyways in all three ways." Chan concludes, to which Seungmin just nods, looking satisfied.
Carts creak as they make their way to where they are, red and black to his and Minho's respectivelly, white to deliver over to the enemy. They would need more white ones than expected.
After hours sorting through people, Chan is pushed back to the palace by force by the new reinforcements that had gotten a bit of rest. Actually, mostly by a gentle Jihyo with a stoic and quiet Ryujin behind her for a nice touch of peer pressure.
Seungmin hops into a cart happily, other weary helpers piling up in it. Chan enters last after the ones pushing the cart refuse any help.
He must be looking ghastly, like everyone in this cart. Chan's shoulder is throbbing and his arm is tingling in an unpleasant way, warm like it shouldn't be despite him bandaging it precariously with a piece of clean sheet from a corpse wagon. The lower part of his face is a dried bloodbath, even if he wiped the excess out earlier. It's just red over red, now unevenly smeared, and his hair must have started rebelling and sticking out in every direction. He touches a strand that feels suspiciously stiff, and it crunches under his fingers to his dismay.
He sends Seungmin a glance, but the soldier's eyes keep blinking shut for continuous seconds. That means that thankfully, he cannot make fun of Chan's continuous struggle with his own hair, even after battle. Chan is a bit too tired to play along, even if he still feels far away from falling asleep. He needs to count three more heads to fully relax.
It was a long way to their destination, the field where the fight had happened was too far away but also way too close to not raise some hair on the Wolf's nape. At least the archers and a battalion of foot soldiers were there to protect the royal family, but it still wasn't enough reassurance for his tendency to worry. He has to continue repeating to himself that they won, just to avoid that his leg goes up and down anxiously and bothers any people trying to get some rest.
The moment they pull up to the castle and Chan pokes Seungmin awake, they're accosted by people in healer robes, to help most down the wagon. He turns one down, in favor of helping Seungmin reach the ground instead and putting a hand on the lower of his back to guide the half asleep soldier inside.
Two healers flock their sides either way, so the Wolf sets course to the healer's office. The two professionals gently lead them astray and get them to the big saloon instead, where a big and temporary hospital had been set while they were out.
Chan makes them poke at Seungmin first, the soldier leaning on the Wolf as he struggled to stay awake. After they just send the man to have a bath with analgesics to help his muscles and a few stitches on a scrape at his neck, Felix and Jeongin showing up to drag him there. As happy as he is to see the two, their presence also means his own dreaded check up is going to happen. The healers don't look happy at his predicament as they peel away his armor.
The door to the saloon opens just as they unwrap his makeshift bandages on his arm. Prince Minho marches in, dragging in a sharpness to everyone's spines with every light step except for Chan's. He melts a bit, and barely notices the healers cleaning the wound on his arm as he follows every turn and shape on Minho, letting it smooth out every edge in his head. The prince is taking his time, looking around and asking for people's conditions, appearing either worried with a twitch of his eyebrow or pleased when it was set straight. His expression is severe in both ways, as he usually is when he is concentrating, but Chan could see the slight changes all the same. Call it knowledge by exposure.
The healers strap a cold pack on his already purple shoulder with sticky bandages, and it's such a relief over the spiking pain that he glances up and away from his husband for a moment, closing his eyes and exhaling.
The next thing he knows, the prince is standing in front of him, pretty and untouched by the violence for once.
Which was something Minho had protested against at first, vehemently. He wasn't a Wolf soldier but sounded a lot like one when he refused to sit instead of taking the conflict by his hands and joining his people in almost dying. It isn't hard to understand the sentiment, however, he had been too relieved about it to empathize, selfish as it was.
Chan couldn't even think of telling Minho he was glad he wasn't fighting when the prince was so upset over not having to risk his life, but he didn't need to. Minho had figured it out either way, words or not.
The prince had ignored him for half a day before Chan apologized and said he just would rather no one he cared about was in danger in any way and at any given time. At least his husband had been gracious enough to forgive him, but it was a sensitive topic to both of them, Chan wasn’t sure he would react better had he been the one away from the battle.
A political agreement was an agreement however, and both crown princes of the fighting nations had stayed put to sign whatever was the deal right after the result of the fight. This way, there was little risk of one dying or foul play during the battle to get what each country wanted.
It had to be done. It was an unfair situation to begin with, Minho’s kingdom defending as the other attack. Had Minho lost, that might have meant subjugation, but fortunately, their win meant peace with a few benefits.
A lot of other nations prowled for big cracks on other kingdoms’ walls, just for bigger territory. However, since their adversaries this time were a bigger country than Minho's, they must not be too compromised, or else they wouldn't have tried to attack before even considering a truce. They really thought they would have it easy, it was hilarious in Chan's opinion.
Chan feels his figurative tail start to wag while Minho scrutinizes him and scrunches up his eyebrows in displeasure at something that doesn't matter. All it matters is that the harshness is familiar and that he is there.
Chan's chest is beating in a way that makes him feel so alive it has him just instinctively smiling, even though it makes his cut sting.
"I obeyed," he says stupidly.
"Clearly," Minho deadpans as if he is indeed stupid.
The prince waves his hand and the healers leave, despite hesitating.
Grabbing Chan's hand, he pulls him to his feet and along. They trail between other beds, into the halls, and up. Chan thinks he recognizes the path, but he is incredibly tired, and glad Minho is here and safe, and so are Felix and Jeongin. His head is spinning with that knowledge, leaving his will like mush.
Minho pushes the door open and closes it after Chan steps in, continuing to pull him along again, hand warm on his. Chan's pinky finds the inside of Minho's wrist, tracing over where he knows the veins are, pressing to feel the faintest traces of a pulse.
They're in the bathroom now, the bath filled and the steam smelling of clove, jasmine, valerian root and chamomile. Chan doesn't wait, he just tugs off the remainder of his clothes, which means only his pants after the healers had their way, and shoes with bloody mud. He wipes his body as fast as he can to get rid of the worst of the grime, other than on his face. His husband had dismissed the healers for a reason he figures.
Stepping in the bath slowly, he hisses at the way his whole body feels sore as it relaxes. Minho kneels next to him with a cloth in his hands, dipping it in the warm water filling a basin.
His spouse wipes his face gently of the flaky dried blood, lips pursed,"The only reason I didn't order for you to come back unscathed, was because I knew you wouldn't be able to."
"It's the battlefield, my prince," Chan leaves it unfinished, because Minho knows what it means. Not even the greatest warriors manage to escape it if the divine hunt is calling for them.
The silence speaks enough, filled with the cold whispers of those who could never do as much as look their dear ones in the eyes again. The Wolf let's their silent wills reverberate in the room and eat the moment's warmth, for only like this the already gone can exist between the living, before Chan exhales and turns back to where his husband is.
It's impossible to let anything but his loud heart play in his head while watching Minho.
"I should have been there," It's what Minho says as an answer to the grief, but it has no heat, just a weird thing in it that has Chan looking directly into his eyes.
"I would have still jumped on the giant."
His partner looks done for a moment, and it brings a snicker to Chan's chest that turns into a wince as it tugs on the cut. His prince dips the cloth in the basin again.
It stings where Minho rubs the cloth over the slash on his face. It will be red, puffy and angry for at least a few days, which will amount to the look Chan has going on already with his big red eye scar. He hopes the kids in the castle won't be scared of it, or if they are, at least not for long.
In comparison, his spouse is as beautiful as moonlight. His white shirt has ruffles, elaborate embroidery and everything Minho normally nowadays didn't wear. As pretty as it was, even more since it was on his partner, his prince's arm movements were stiff. This country had a thing for sleeves that Chan himself didn't comprehend.
Minho's hair was styled to curl over his forehead and frame his face as if he was a painting to show off, and the red dangly earrings glinted under the delicate light of the night sky.
The sight of the fated jewelry made Chan instinctively reach out to let it rest on his hand, letting his blood rejoice in seeing a part of it on his partner. Minho was not someone who lets his tongue stray from thorns and jabs, he at most, let just part of his mind flow out unfiltered, which was as a blessing as curious since the prince had a one of a kind mind. Niceties were reserved to his young trainees.
But if you learned to read the meanings of the flowers he left in your bedroom when you weren't looking (blaming it on needing to fix the lack of life or color in it), it was hard to not find it endearing. Minho had his own way of loving, and it made him so lovable in exchange.
The jewel is a reminder that makes his chest thunder and the blood rush a bit way too fast, leaving him light headed.
"Not a good look on you, this other cut," Minho crinkles his nose.
Chan let's his hand fall down, too pliant and exhausted to do more than give out a light laugh. He knows. Looks are not his strongest suit to begin with, the red gash must have him look half like the corpses from earlier.
Minho's comment means something else however. He tilts his head back to let the warmth wash over him like Minho's wet fabric over his torso, avoiding his aching shoulder and cold pack.
"It'll fade," Chan mumbles out, getting closer to falling asleep the more the warm water seeps out the last of the hurt of his muscles. "Please bear it for a few days, my prince."
Chan's face is pulled to the side and edge of the tub, the hands are calloused but smoothed over on purpose, and they were wonderfully familiar. He opens his eyes, finding his husband's face just a breath space away.
"You-" Minho's voice is almost sour as he cuts himself off. "What's with the title, you're naked in a bathtub before me, and in our personal quarters. "
His ears heat up. His husband had always had a way with words.
Said spouse has something sparking in his eyes right now, searching and intense, and Chan's blood is singing in response, no matter how he tries to tame it down. He let's it flow freely, because it's probably the only thing keeping him awake at the moment.
"Minho." Chan concedes.
Minho's eyes gleam in a different and promising way as Chan's feelings bleed out on his face. Minho leans forward, touching the tip of their noses together, and that's what he gets for marrying a cat person, someone who communicates through eyes.
Chan's illiterate in the language unfortunately.
It's also possible Minho enjoys making him ask or even beg for him to give. Chan doesn't mind, his devotion won't let his husband not voice his wants.
"What is it, beloved?" The Wolf asks, voice lowered to match the ambient. "You know I'll give you as long as you ask and it is in my power."
Something curls in Minho's face and his smile makes shivers run down Chan's skin.
"Stay still for me?" His prince asks and Chan is pliant under his hands as he puts distance between the two and finishes cleaning all his wounds up.
Minho takes away his own clothes, or at least his pants and boots, since he is still trying to reach the buttons on his back.
"Here." Chan shakes his hand to take most of the water out and undoes it.
Scooting back a bit, he leaves a good chunk of the tub for him to step in and watches as his love struggles with the rest even with all the buttons open.
"These things aren't breathable," Minho complains.
The shirt is chucked to the corner of the room where it lands on a chair, and Chan watches as Minho's back muscles move under the expanse of his smooth skin. It was always a surprise to remember that people here had much less scars from growing up than Chan's people, where rolling in the dirt with kids your age and going as far as scratching to win is common. Minho's nation training is more contained in their training, and his only scar was a mishap when young, right under his chest. Other than that it's all smooth, pink and damp from the vapor in the room, almost gleaming like the earrings he still leaves on under the pale light.
It's alluring. Everything about Minho is. But well, Chan supposes he also is biased.
The water sloshes around as the two fit in the big tub, Minho's legs brushing and tangling with his own. Chan let's a dopey smile tug on his lips while Minho looks mildly bothered as the water licks higher at his chest than he probably predicted. People here bathe as a need, mostly just scrubbing down as fast as they could. Minho is no different despite the luxurious bathroom, and so, Chan appreciates it even more.
Minho doesn't even blame it on saving water this time, and Chan's skin runs warmer than the bath at the moment in a good and embarrassing way.
"I was surprised you put up with that shirt for as long as you did," Chan muses, crossing his arms and positioning them over his bent knees so he could lean his chin on them. He ignores the pang of pain in his shoulder. "Your fancy clothes are very restrictive, terrible for fighting."
"I'm aware," Minho deadpans, with a sarcastic smile and wide mocking eyes. "And yours don't cover enough, or maybe it's you who doesn't."
Chan laughs and doesn't deny any accusation. He doesn't move either, searching for closeness, because for all Chan clings, hugs and reaches to whoever is the closest, it's different when they're alone. Chan is under no obligation to show affection to Minho, and it's no effort really, but it's still jarring to have no one's eyes but theirs in each other sometimes.
A part of their relationship is still for show. It has to be when people's mouths are ready to gossip about anything out of order and create flourishes that outshine the blank truth. When people are watching, the two write a tale that doesn't leave space for that. As a consequence, skinship feels directed at others, actually, everything between them feels directed to others in public despite how enjoyable it is.
Here it feels more raw, hits your skin like flames and leaves it exposed. It's the same feeling Chan got before marching into the battlefield earlier, when Minho pulled him aside to give him an order and tell him he had someone to come back to. Considering that Chan often threw himself over the mud as a bridge so people could pass over it clean and dry, wise from his spouse's part. And a declaration.
His blood threatens to sing high again as the orders echo in his head.
Minho is the one that bridges their distance, because Chan is better at giving than asking and even worse at receiving. Everything Minho gives directly, Chan receives with his ears red and a smile that once made Seungmin pretend to throw up. His throat is often stuffed with cotton during those times as well, which really sells it all.
Their knees knock together and Minho is close enough Chan can see the beauty mark on the tip of his nose way too well. Then there is a basin worth of water thrown on his head.
Minho's grin is devilish as the Wolf wrinkles his forehead and takes offense at the sneak attack.
"Your hair was crusty," Minho says innocently, fluttering his long eyelashes.
Terrible, he knows exactly what he is doing and how he looks. Chan is much too childish to back off though.
He promptly dives into the water, emerges and shakes his head like a dog. Minho groans as the water sprays on him, and if his hair could do that, it probably would be puffing up in response.
"And now?" Chan asks just as innocently.
Minho's death glare is still as good as the first time they met. As his husband raises the basin of water, empty this time, to strike his head, the Wolf apologizes quickly enough. For someone who had tried to make sure their partner comes back alive from the battle, he sure is fast to threaten Chan's life himself.
Makes sense actually, Chan can't get hurt, only if Minho does it, because it's controllable then. It's something he can have a choice while he won't choose to have Chan ripped away from him during battle.
The Wolf Warlord falls back in contemplation, running his hand distractedly over the prince's knees, feeling above all grateful he gets to have this. To have a way to laugh over being threatened by him, to have Seungmin let him lead him in while he basically sleep walks, to have the rest listen to him despite his faults.
Chan blinks back to reality when Minho's hand brushes over his arm, just under the new gash, where an older scar is. His hand keeps tracing over his scars, moving further and further until it hangs in the air over the new cut over his face. And the prince must have no idea, but the reverence with what he touches each is a compliment, it makes the Wolf's breath hitch.
Showing your scars is a sign of your hunts and how much you trained. Your blood has flown out and boiled and the cut was deep enough their high metabolisms didn't manage to make it fade. You still persevere and exist, each is a scream of life. It's the reason he paints his eye scar gold at celebrations, it was his worst close call. Touching someone's scars on purpose was for family and friends.
He looks his beloved in the eyes and even if Minho doesn't know, which he has inkling he does, it gets the same result as if it was intended that way. The wolf's ears burn and he bites his lips in embarrassment at how pleased he is with it.
Minho's gaze is burning and what it burns, it reveals.
"How cute," he says, decidedly amused.
Chan furrows his eyebrows and his throat is filled with cotton again, so he covers his face with his hands as it burns. He hisses when the touch makes his wound's pain flare up.
Minho pulls his hands away from his face immediately,"Don't ruin my work, what if it bleeds again?”
The pain is gone, replaced by that same lightheadedness from before.
“Then it is because and for you," Chan counters, finally finding his voice. "I will make a necklace to match your earrings."
It's Minho's turn to flush red. This part of Chan's upbringing he knows.
He grips Minho's hands gently and brings them closer to him again, pressing a feather light kiss in both of the inner part of his wrists,"I came back, beloved."
It comes out breathless.
It's what he wanted to have said where there were still too many ears and eyes to hold the meaning Chan wanted. Even if he tried, the healers were much too pressed about Chan's loss of blood. They would not be able to notice to whom his motion of breathing in and out was dedicated right then and there, to make it even worth it displaying something private. But Chan didn't even agonize or consider it seriously back then, because he is rarely greedy, but for these moments he is, he’s been learning that he is.
Minho unlatches his wrists only to put his forearms over Chan's shoulders, palms faced up. He leans close and Chan's follow suit, touching their foreheads together as they look directly into each other's eyes. This is Minho's tradition now, the same gesture he made on the day of their marriage, the same gesture he made earlier today when Chan had finished dressing up and was about to go out to put on armor.
"So it seems," Is what Minho answers, voice for once brimming with emotion and making it thick.