Work Text:
It is snowing on the mountain.
Yi Hwi used to love snow. When they were a servant, snowfall meant a break—at least, for a short time. There was no point to girls running around the palace making themselves sick in the cold. And so, as long as the fires were already laid and the court ladies were feeling kind, the girls would get half a day off, or even more, to rest and enjoy the weather.
When they were the Crown Prince, snowfall felt like one of the few times the world was truly clean. As if the snow was a blank canvas, representing only potential. And sometimes, even in the later years, they would manage to convince Court Lady Kim and Eunuch Hong to let them play, to make snow-people and stars, abandoning their adulthood and royal dignity for whole hours at a time.
Now, Hwi is just cold. And sick and tired of long, dark nights.
They bite back a sigh and get back to sweeping off the front step. It won’t do for the snow to accumulate here, to melt and turn into ice. Yi Hwi loves their little cottage, loves this little step, but they still remember slipping on that ice last winter, how Ji-un’s eyes had gone wide with panic as their head had hit the ground. Hwi had earned three days of bedrest for that little misadventure, and Ji-un had eventually calmed down as he’d turned to solicitous care and many, many kisses and cuddles, but the weeklong headache and that spike of panic between them had not been worth it.
“Come inside, my love,” Jeong Ji-un calls, now. “Dinner’s ready.”
His voice would probably sound bright and even to anyone else, but Hwi hears the strain. Still, he is trying. Just as Hwi is trying. Winter, it turns out, is a difficult season for them both.
“I really should learn to cook one of these days,” Hwi says, propping the broom just outside the doorway while unwinding their scarf. They make this hollow suggestion every once in a while, just to make Ji-un smile. Because that voice? Means he needs a smile.
And he responds just as Hwi wanted, a bright flash of teeth. “Why bother, when you have such a talented chef at your disposal?” He fills a bowl full of soup, blows on it before setting it down on Hwi’s side of the table. “Come, warm your hands.”
“Mmm, I need to warm up much more than just my hands.”
“Well, I am at your disposal for that, too.”
Another day, another season, and Hwi would rise to the tease. But they are cold, today, and feeling restless in their skin. So they only eat, and watch their lover from across they table.
On the one hand, anywhere they are together is a paradise. After so much uncertainty, so many partings that each felt final and monumental, just the fact that this is their life now—Yi Hwi and Jeon Ji-un, together—is a blessing.
On the other hand, they cannot get out from each others’ space for a moment when the winter is like this. They cannot hunt, or trek down to the village for company and supplies, or even spend much time outdoors. Hwi should be used to never truly being alone—there were always court ladies and maids and eunuchs and bodyguards around, when they were Crown Prince. When they were king. Still. Even though Hwi and Ji-un love each other more than life, this level of forced togetherness can still feel like suffocation.
Hwi bites their tongue. Ashamed of even thinking this, even for a moment.
Ji-un plays with his soup instead of eating it. Sighs. “I miss the sun.”
So, it seems they were both letting their thoughts wander similar paths after all. Hwi lets a small smile peek out. “Past experience makes me think it will return. Someday.”
“Someday soon, I hope.” Ji-un pushes his bowl aside with a disgusted moue.
“You should eat. You spent all day cooking.”
“A few hours, at most. Winter has long days to fill. Anyway, I’m not hungry. Tell me a story. Another us.”
The two of them do this, sometimes. Attempt to reckon with their present by conjuring up alternate pasts. It can be a dangerous game. The past is a minefield of regrets, of relationships that never had proper closure. Wishing can so easily turn to bitterness.
But sometimes, it is a helpful exercise. We are not this. We could have been, perhaps, if different choices had been made. But we are what we are. Still, we can pretend.
Tonight, Hwi tells a version of their story where they were always he, for real, and no such person as Dam-i ever took breath. A story where they got a puppy crush on their gorgeous, genius tutor, and the tutor fell just as hard. And because such a story must have an uncomplicated happy ending, no one was bothered by such illicit love, and no crown got in the way, and they were allowed one day to just walk out of the palace together, accepted and unjudged by all.
Ji-un rests his head in Hwi’s lap as they tell this story, pulling details from dreams. “I like it,” he says around a yawn, as Hwi’s voice trails away. “One more way for us to be happy.”
“All of the stories we make for ourselves will be happy,” Hwi says. Because they have to be. No matter what…Hwi will make sure of that.
Ji-un’s long fingers gently cradle Hwi’s left knee. “But are you alright, my love? That story felt a bit melancholy, underneath.”
“Just feeling a little like a stranger in my skin, tonight.” Hwi brushes their lover’s hair. “It will pass.”
Ji-un stretches like a giant kitten, untangling himself from Hwi. “I can help with that. Come.”
And so they go to bed, and make it through another winter night.
*
Hwi is happy. Beyond anything they had ever been able to dream, since the day they put on their twin’s clothing for an afternoon that turned into ten years. This kind of happiness should not belong to them. It is too much for a person with such a stained soul to deserve.
And yet it is theirs.
And still, they cannot seem to stop grieving.
Hwi got everything they ever wanted.
Hwi got a version of everything they ever wanted.
Perhaps that is the problem. Perhaps everyone feels like this, once in a while, lost in ruminations about all of the other lives they could have lived.
If Hwi’s brothers were alive. Both of them, older and younger. Hwi could have been sister to them, could have been sweet and supportive and beloved. Could still have had Ji-un, surely. Some way.
If their father had lived, they could have escaped the traps laid out by the court. They could have escaped the weight of the crown.
If Dam-i the servant had run away with Ji-un, the naïve, idealistic boy cast out from home, they could have made their own way in the world before the world bent them to its will. Hwi could instead have been Yeon-seon. Would have been good at it, too. A wife, a helpmeet, running as far away from Joseon as their feet would take them.
If, if, if.
It is because Hwi feels so restless and unsettled that these thoughts have space to leak through their mind. The past is a barely-scabbed-over wound, and it is easier to pick at than the future, vast and unknowable as an untouched field of snow.
They can still bleed. It could come at any moment. It is important to remember that, to keep their heart rate steady and low and not panic.
They might bleed, yet. Or they might not. No point in constructing fantasies of the future until they are more certain.
Hwi and Ji-un have spoken, once or twice, about having a child. Since it could happen, they must talk about whether it is something they want in their life.
Hwi thinks that Ji-un might want it more than he has said. He would make a wonderful father, and he would absolutely not repeat the mistakes of his own. But Ji-un wouldn’t have to carry the thing, and part of Hwi is glad it hasn’t happened, yet. Because how would they ever make a mother of themself? Would they become fully Dam-i, or Yeon-seon? Could they ever be that, after all that life has put them through?
Yes, it is a relief that it hasn’t happened yet, and Hwi will not be ashamed of feeling that.
Unless it is happening now.
Perhaps there will be a baby, and yet Hwi will still be able to stay Hwi. They might find a way.
But they might still bleed. The question may still remain on pause.
With a sigh, Hwi closes their mind to the question and rolls over in bed. No more potential futures or pasts, tonight. Tonight, they are curled up against the one they love, burrowed beneath two blankets and breathing close together. It is snowing on the mountain. Ji-un will be by their side come the morning, and every morning after. They are safe, and mostly warm, and fully loved. That is the happiest ending there could be.