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He wakes up cold, the other side of the bed neatly made up, his blanket meticulously wrapped about him, his head propped up against the pillow with more care than he'd bother to expend on himself. He's used to it, waking up alone, but he smiles nonetheless. He'd certainly not gone to bed alone.
He rolls out from beneath the covers clumsily and dresses hastily, the morning sun this time of year no gentler than the gleam of ice. The skies are grey and dull, frost sparing nothing and nobody, but it's a weather he never learned to think of as gloomy.
This was simply the weather of his kingdom, beautiful in its own ways, even if Jiseok and Jooyeon would be quick to disagree.
He and Hyeongjun though, he and Hyeongjun love this land and its white powder blanket of snow. This is home. Their home.
He meanders down the halls, enjoying for the moment, this time of day where his crown needn't rest heavy on his head.
His feet know the way without him having to tell them, this path one he's taken so very often, he can't remember mornings without its routine. He pushes the doors to the kitchens open, lets the warmth of wood stove ovens and the aroma of freshly baked bread and cooking breakfast waft over and around him. There's many things he's been born into, that he's found comfort in one way or another, but none of them will ever compare to this.
Greeting the staff, offering compliments and exchanging pleasantries, Seungmin makes his way through the kitchens, approaching the spot no one else occupies but one man. His hair pulled in a ponytail tucked thoughtfully beneath the ribbon of his apron tied at the neck, kneading dough as he intently studies an open journal beside him, the pages littered with colorful sketches.
Seungmin comes up behind him, snakes his arms around his middle, pressing a delicate, chaste kiss to the side of the baker’s neck. Hyeongjun yelps, trying to hide his neck in his shoulder, unable to, Seungmin's chin hooked there instead.
Seungmin smiles up at him sweetly. "Morning, love," he greets, linking his fingers over Hyeongjun's stomach, unmoving. "You've got a 'lil something on your face, I'm afraid."
"Seungmin," Hyeongjun groans, wiping at his face with the back of his wrist, only spreading the white powder flour dusting his cheeks and nose. Seungmin's heart aches so fondly, he knows there's pleasure in pain.
He frees only one of his arms to fish a handkerchief from his blouse's pocket, turning Hyeongjun into him so he can face him. "Don't fret," Seungmin murmurs, steadying Hyeongjun's chin with his fingers, "I'll handle you nicely." He wipes Hyeongjun's face clean, Hyeongjun's eyes fluttering shut at his gentle caresses, a pout staining his lips, being so weak to Seungmin dissatisfying him.
"So," Seungmin muses, pocketing the cloth, Hyeongjun returning to his dutiful task of kneading dough. Inevitably he'll only dirty his face again, but Seungmin will be happy in cleaning him up a million times more. "Jiseok and Jooyeon are betrothed."
Hyeongjun tenses, his wrists rolling stiffly, knuckles pressing into the dough with frenzy. "Yes, and now I must cater it." He glances over at that journal again, frowning in contemplation, distracting himself from the blatant matter at hand.
Sighing, Seungmin leans against the counter Hyeongjun isn't using. He wouldn't interfere with Hyeongjun's work, he respects it as much as anyone would respect his royal duties. To him, they're of equal caliber. He and Hyeongjun, they both feed the people.
He watches Hyeongjun, chewing on the skin of his cheek. "I am to be king. Not soon, but eventually." Hyeongjun swallows visibly, his jaw flexed along with his hands. "My brother has married, and will continue our bloodline, but I am otherwise heirless."
Hyeongjun shoots him a look, one that kindly begs he shut up or make an evident point. "Yes," he bites out, frustration unique on him, more cute than anything, even when Seungmin knows to take it serious, "I'm sure you have many prospects lined up. I wouldn't know a soul in the universe who wouldn't want to marry you." He presses his lips into a thin line, brows knitted together.
Momentarily, Seungmin desires to lovingly throttle the baker, suffocate his obtuseness with a silken satin pillow. "I will not marry," he scoffs, looking the other way, petulantly sullen.
Movements pausing, stuttering, Hyeongjun blinks at him wide-eyed. He clears his throat, before speaking again. "Pardon?"
Seungmin grins, snorting. "Do you really think I would marry anyone but you?"
Hyeongjun flushes terribly, gaping at Seungmin slack jawed. Seungmin reaches forward, pinches his cheek. "You're awfully cute, my Hyeongjunnie," he compliments, delighting in the way that Hyeongjun only goes redder and redder with each of Seungmin's words. "Even if it leaves my soul unbound, I will not marry unless you are to want to."
Slowing his work, giving Seungmin the better part of his attention, Hyeongjun chews at his bottom lip, incredulous. "You don't really mean it," he says, more out of courtesy than anything, the earnest shine in his eye, believing Seungmin every last bit.
Seungmin crosses his arms over his chest, smiling at Hyeongjun a bit somberly. "We've struggled with this," he murmurs, "You do not want to be a prince, and I've got no choice being one. So what?"
Hyeongjun's brows raise, high in his bangs. He regards Seungmin raptly, listening completely. "The only reason I'm so insistent about any of it," Seungmin professes, examining his trimmed, filed nails, a lump building needlessly in the back of his throat, "Is because I don't want you to escape me, Hyeongjun."
He leans his head into his shoulder, peering at Hyeongjun slightly. "My life will be hard, and yours in turn. I will not make you my mistress, and I will not take on any other love. I don't care what we are, dear. I simply want you by my side, always and forever. Isn't that simple?"
He pushes off of the counter, aligns himself with Hyeongjun, curling his fingers around the ribbon of Hyeongjun's apron, pulling them flush together. "It doesn't have to require any sacrifice, don't you think? You can remain the baker, and I your lover."
"You are much more than that," Hyeongjun remarks, voice lacking.
Seungmin cocks his head. "So? I'm but a human being, Hyeongjun. One so vitally smitten with you, I can not imagine life without you. You make me consider abandoning the throne."
Hyeongjun's eyes blow comically wide, and he shakes his head. "You wouldn't and you better not dare ." It only makes Seungmin all the more sweet on him, all the ways he cares for Seungmin so intrinsically, knowing him to the crown, the core.
"I wouldn't," Seungmin concurs, but he smiles big and soft, "But you, only you, would ever make me think it."
Hyeongjun's face melts, a puddle for Seungmin to reach into, ripple the surface, drown in the depths. "Seungmin…" It took so much, getting Hyeongjun to say his name without title. It was worth all the effort. Hyeongjun says his name the sweetest.
Hyeongjun lets go of the dough, running his flour dusted fingertips over the back of Seungmin's hands, awed, admired, adored.
Seungmin presses his lips to Hyeongjun's mole, the one he playfully claims was a dot of chocolate Hyeongjun forgot to clean, never able to wash his mess from his face properly without Seungmin's doting help, that never left. "Perhaps we'll never marry, Hyeongjun, but at least let us make our vows. Let us be a promise to one another, wholly."
Hyeongjun drops his head forward, their foreheads meeting. "Oh, you stupid royalty," he mutters, "I'd planned on doing that all along, in the shadows or not."
Seungmin exhales, shoulders falling, a weight lifted from his being. He tugs Hyeongjun in, kissing him square on the mouth, for the whole of the kitchens to see if they so wanted to intrude. "Thank you," he breathes into Hyeongjun's mouth, gratified.
"I am the one who should be endlessly thankful," Hyeongjun whispers, "Who'd imagine it'd take a few sweet treats to seduce a prince?" He smirks, teasing, but his eyes are the tenderest treat in the world when resting upon Seungmin, so full of love, you would think every love story of every prince in the world, had been written about Seungmin by his gentle baker hands.
Snorting, Seungmin bats him off, a little pink himself now, giddy. "I'm simply a person possessing a sweet tooth. Nothing would have kept me from finding you, the tastiest pastry of them all." He peppers Hyeongjun's face in pecks, a full blown attack. Hyeongjun giggles under assault, offering his hands to Seungmin's cheeks in surrender.
They pull away, just enough to admire each other. Hyeongjun wipes the flour from Seungmin's face, guilty. "I promise you, my prince, no matter how heavy your crown is to bear, I will be there to bear it with you. Even if no one else ever knows."
Seungmin leans into Hyeongjun's touch, sighing wistfully. "That is all I could ever want. There is no one but you."
Hyeongjun opens his mouth, prepared to keep spilling sugary sentiments and syrupy professions, when the door to the kitchens violently slams open. They turn to face the harsh sound at once, Hyeongjun putting an arm before Seungmin, his body following closely behind.
Over his shoulder, Seungmin meets the haunted stares of guards he knows well. "What?" he barks, "What is it? Are my parents alright? My brother?" He shoves past Hyeongjun's frame, standing tall, terrified.
Only one guard dares step forward, his fingers trembling where they lay over his heart as he bows. "My prince," he rasps, and Seungmin will swear later on, that he could hear across the castle grounds, Jiseok's wordless scream. Wracked and wild with grief. Echoing in his ears like the shriek of a banshee. "It's…it's His Highness."
Seungmin stumbles back, Hyeongjun catching him in weak arms. "No," he says.
"Prince Gunil. He's gone missing."
Seungmin shakes his head, covers his ears. Still he sees the words, shaped on his guard's lips like a horrible, horrific curse; befallen on them all.
He’ll never look at powder flour and soft snow the same ever again.