Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"You need to get married," Namjoon's mother said.

"How about no," Namjoon replied, pursing his lips.

Yoongi, who had been observing from the side, let out a snort in response. However, he quickly turned it into a cough when his aunt shot him her classic arched eyebrow– an expression that Namjoon had perfected to an art as well, come to think of it.

Her stern eyes focused on him for a beat. Yoongi coughed, sobering up with an expression that was more appropriate at the bedside of a dying friend.

She sighed, turning her back to him as she focused once again on Yoongi's dear cousin. One look at Namjoon's determined stance made Yoongi immediately break into a grin, but he held it in. He was recruited by his aunt in the mission of convincing Namjoon to find a good life partner already, and laughing wasn't probably helping her case.

Yoongi could have told her it was an endeavour that would end in futility, but she must already be aware of that. Everyone in the family— and then some— was fully aware of how stubborn Namjoon could be when he set his mind to something. His uncle hadn't even attempted to join the conversation this time. King he may be, but when it came to his son, even invoking the "you're the prince and it's your duty" card wasn't helpful. Heavens knew the man had tried countless attempts at convincing his son, but Yoongi knew Namjoon's sharp tongue and sharper mind when it came down to it. The man had no qualms in pointing out how he had carried out every other duty more flawlessly than anyone would ever reasonably expect, all while remaining steadfastly independent and without the support of a partner. The results spoke for themselves, one couldn't find fault with that particular defense.

"Do you plan to spend the rest of your life alone!?" The queen asked, exasperated. She folded her fan, crossing her arms as she frowned at Namjoon in the look she gave him whenever Namjoon managed to get into trouble as a child. "Namjoon-ah, don't be so stubborn. You say that now, but when you're older you'd really regret not having a partner. And children! Don't you want children?"

"I'm just twenty six!" Namjoon protested in return. Yoongi coughed again, remembering the phase Namjoon went through a year or two ago where his baby fever was at an all time high. He could appreciate the change in tactics though. He wouldn't say the whole "if not to share your duties, then at least for your happiness" angle was new– she's brought it up often enough– but at least this one is harder to argue against. How does one know that they've reached the limit of joy?

Namjoon’s mother sighed deeply, leaning forward in her seat as if to emphasize the gravity and urgency of the matter. "Joon-ah, you may feel youthful and invincible now, but time has a way of slipping through your fingers before you even realize it. You can’t afford to just wait around indefinitely. It's not only about fulfilling your duties as a prince; it's about finding companionship and sharing your life with someone who matters to you."

Namjoon shrugged, dropping some of his usual formality since he was among family. "I'll let you know when I find someone willing to have me as their life partner."

His mother pursed her lips, clearly unsatisfied with the response, but she allowed Namjoon to leave the parlour. Yoongi observed with a knowing glance that, although it appeared she was letting the matter rest for now, the conversation was far from over.

And he had a feeling who exactly the task was going to be delegated to. Good grief.

"You do know that I already know why you guys are here for?"

Yoongi and Hoseok said nothing, deciding to take a seat first. They plopped down on the sofa in Namjoon's bedroom with a casual air, making themselves comfortable against the embroidered cushions. Then they helped themselves to some snacks from the table, picking at the assortment of treats at their leisure before finally focusing on the man in front of them who was lounging on an identical sofa.

Namjoon hadn't bothered to even sit up straight, and Yoongi couldn't suppress a huff of laughter at how disinterested Namjoon appeared in the entire situation.

Hoseok, for his part, shrugged and reached for a handful of berries from a plate. "Had to come into your room at least, your mother's orders."

Namjoon looked at them curiously. "What did she bribe you with this time? A new villa?"

Yoongi shook his head, grin widening. "Nah, just some good ol' ranting about your stubbornness and roping us in to help convince you because you care about him too, right Yoongi-ah, Hoseok-ah?" He answered, trying his best to mimic his aunt's voice.

Namjoon ran a hand through his hair, appearing exhausted. "Why is everyone so fixated on my getting married? It feels like we’ve had this same conversation a thousand times. Can we not move on and focus on something else? More pressing matters?"

"Why don't you consider getting married, though?" Hoseok asked even when his face had twisted in sympathy. "I mean, even if you're not exactly thrilled about the idea of just tying yourself to someone you don’t know very well," he quickly amended, noticing the identical looks of disbelief that flashed across both Namjoon's and Yoongi's faces, "At this point, your parents would probably be over the moon just by hearing your agreement. They wouldn’t even care who you end up choosing."

"As long as it's not anything scandalous," Yoongi added drily.

Namjoon’s eyes narrowed slightly as he considered their words. "Hoseokie…" he began slowly, still looking at him with a scrutinizing stare. "How could you, one of our best strategists, still ask such a ridiculous question about why I’m not getting married? I thought it was obvious. To the entire kingdom, let alone my closest friends."

"Because I call bullshit on your insecurities," Hoseok answered back immediately, firm and unflinching. "You're not some kind of despicable monster Namjoon-ah, and I'm gonna do my best to make you believe that."

"Psssh, of course I'm not a monster," Namjoon waved his hand, with a casual air that both Yoongi and Hoseok could tell was forced. "There's this tiny, minor, miniscule issue of me looking like one though."

Yoongi pursed his lips. Namjoon wasn't exactly wrong, but that was still an exaggeration. The Royal Family of the North had boasted a dragon blood running through their veins for centuries, but over time, it had diluted to the point where it didn't manifest as anything of significance and was more a symbol of prestige than a source of significant power. Lineage was important among nobility, after all.

But Namjoon had been a notable exception, being born with shockingly potent dragon mana. While it was a fearsome, powerful thing that made Namjoon very, very dangerous, it had also brought about…distinct physical changes. He had been born with light, reflective scales running up his forearms and the sides of his face, and as Namjoon matured, his fingernails resembled more claws than human. The dragon's blood had blessed Namjoon with a good physique at least, the man being naturally tall and muscular– although to his credit, Namjoon did work hard for the latter too– but even looking past his appearance, the younger positively hummed with an imperceptible aura that made people shut up and pay attention. It's no wonder he stood out so much.

But still. Yoongi frowned, because while they had reassured Namjoon multiple times that it wasn't a big deal, the fact that people were afraid of his appearance was very real. Although the citizens had grown to love their kind prince and the country as a whole had adjusted to his presence, there were still occasional flinches and fearful whispers directed at him.

Some scars don't fade, Yoongi mused. It would be hard to forget the taunts and fear he'd gotten, growing up. And it'd be particularly hard to get over an entire full court of nobles arguing over whether a child should be sentenced to death because he was too dangerous, too unnatural.

That's the kind of thing that sticks to someone. Yoongi certainly can't fault Namjoon for it.

"There would still be people who wouldn’t mind your appearance!” Hoseok argued, drawing Yoongi’s attention back to the conversation. “Look! The two of us don’t care at all!”

"True," Namjoon conceded. "But you two have known me since I was but a babe," he pointed out. He hesitated, reaching out for a biscuit before continuing. “It’s not that I’m opposed to marriage; it’s just that the most likely scenario is that my partner would end up being some noble or royal who has been pressured by their family to form a connection they consider advantageous. I don’t want someone to be compelled to marry me out of obligation, especially with someone like me."

The "someone who barely passes as a human" went unsaid, but they both heard it loud and clear.

"I just…I just don't want to ruin someone else's life just to check something off a list." Namjoon finally admitted, sounding weary.

“Oh, Namjoon-ah,” Hoseok began, his voice tender as he reached out for a hug, his usual kindness evident, “You’ll find someone who will love–”

Namjoon abruptly stood up before Hoseok could complete the gesture though, snapping his finger with his gaze a million miles away. "I'm a genius!"

"Yes you are, but I don't know what that has to do with the discussion now," Hoseok grumbled, miffed at the missed hug. Namjoon noticed his expression, laughing and putting an arm around his shoulder.

"You see, I just figured out a way to avoid getting married in a way that my parents can't complain about!"

Yoongi stared at him doubtfully, suspicious at the sudden about-face in mood. If Namjoon thought acting jovial and carefree would make them forget about the conversation, he was mistaken. "And that is?"

"Who's the most eligible bachelor right now?" Namjoon asked instead of answering.

Yoongi frowned, trying to remember. Which kingdom was the most powerful and had someone that could be married off?

"Kim Seokjin."

It was Hoseok who had answered, and Yoongi's eyebrows shot up at the obvious answer. Of course. How did his mind not instantly think of the infamous prince whose beauty was renowned to be so otherworldly that great emperors have been falling over themselves to send him a marriage proposal? That man's words alone could start a war, if it came down to it.

Namjoon smiled, eyes sparkling in a way that was most inappropriate for the issue. Yoongi didn't like it– whenever Namjoon smiled that cheekily, it meant trouble was about to come.

"Exactly. And what would happen if I put my foot down and declare that the only one I'm willing to marry is Kim Seokjin, or not marry at all?"

Yoongi's eyes widened in surprise, and he was sure Hoseok was sporting a similar expression. "Namjoon–"

"It's brilliant!" Namjoon spoke quickly, his excitement palpable at figuring a way out. "It's perfectly reasonable considering how other people are acting up over marrying the man too, and as Hobi said, my parents would be too relieved to know that I'm willing to give it a chance to protest about the steep condition!"

"And there's no way Kim Seokjin would even give my proposal a glance!" Namjoon continued, too enthusiastic for someone who claimed to be setting himself up for rejection. "I never attend any events so no one has heard of me– if anything, the rumors about me are far worse. My kingdom is quite ordinary with nothing remarkable to boast about. There’s no way the flower-like prince from the thriving southern plains would ever contemplate enduring the harsh northern winters! It’s absolutely foolproof!”

Yoongi and Hoseok shared a glance.

"Whatever you say, Namjoon-ah."

Seokjin was in his chambers when an attendant burst in, breathless. The prince was immediately on his feet, his mind racing with possibilities. Had an attack on the kingdom occurred?

"Your Highness!" the attendant exclaimed, halting just inside the door to regain his breath. "You have just received a proposal!"

Seokjin paused, about to sit back down with a disappointed air. He'd been receiving proposals ever since the Royal family announced a month ago that they're looking for a partner for him, and the whole process had become a spectacle far beyond what was necessary. Why couldn't they handle these matters with the usual discretion? What happened to making alliances normally and quietly like they always did? Seokjin knew his parents were just doing it out of excess love (and a fair amount of politicking– they were leveraging his beauty to see the biggest fish they could reel in so Seokjin could have the best husband possible), but it was tiring, nonetheless.

The attendant seemed unfazed by his disinterested reaction, holding out the tray with the letter towards him. The envelope was already open, having been screened for any potential threats such as poison or assassination attempts. Seokjin bit back a tired sigh as he took the letter, noting the plain appearance of the parchment. The only interesting tidbit about it being the pretty flowers pressed beneath the broken wax seal of–

Huh?

"It's a proposal from the kingdom of Ilsan!"

The attendant answered before Seokjin could ask if he was seeing this right. The prince stared at the letter in his hand, before sending the man away. Something told him this was something he needed to read in the presence of his brothers.

Taehyung and Jungkook stared at him after Seokjin was done reading it out loud for them, both of them abandoning their studies on the library table.

"Well. That's a marriage proposal for sure."

"Thanks Taehyung, I couldn't tell by the 'His Royal highness seeks the hand of the pride of Gwacheon' line," Seokjin replied sarcastically, making Jungkook laugh.

“I think what hyung means is that this might be genuine,” Jungkook interjected, his voice tinged with concern. “I mean, that’s why you came to us, right? Because it’s hard to believe?”

Seokjin sighed, taking a seat at their table as he thought it over and tried to string together an explanation.

"You're right, it's just…surreal?" He waved his hands as he began slowly, his two younger brothers giving him understanding looks. Well. At least Taehyung was, Jungkook seemed to be zoned out. But after all these years Seokjin knew he was listening despite his expression, so he let him be.

"No one really knows about the crown prince of Gwacheon," he continued. "And by not knowing I mean it had gotten to the point that there were rumors over how the Royal family might have hidden him away or gotten rid of him because he was insane or disfigured or something of the like."

"But that was before," Taehyung pointed out, well aware of the rumors that surrounded one of the most infamous princes of their time.

"Indeed," Seokjin agreed easily. "But over time the–"

"Wait wait wait," Jungkook interjected, his gaze shifting back to the realm of the living. "This is that supposedly most beautiful man in the world et cetera et cetera that everyone fawns over, right? I think I heard one of our vassals sigh over how he's such an ideal man that he seems to be written by the poets. I almost forgot about those rumors– this is the same man we're talking about, right?"

"The very same," Seokjin replied drily. "I was just getting to that, if you had a smidgen more of patience."

Jungkook very maturely stuck out of his tongue. Seokjin ignored him with practiced ease.

"The shift in public perception largely stems from the news that filtered out from his kingdom as he matured," Seokjin continued. "Despite his continuous absence at events or meetings with delegations from other kingdoms, he maintains a surprisingly close relationship with his own people. It seems they see him quite frequently, in fact." Seokjin licked his lips, reflecting on the current public opinion of Kim Namjoon. "Whenever the topic of their elusive prince comes up, they are quick to sing his praises, describing him as one of the most gentle and wise individuals to have ever walked this earth. It’s not an exaggeration to say that many of them refer to him almost reverently, as a ‘God among men.’"

"And naturally that leads to everyone daydreaming about how dashing and charming and handsome he must be because he's so mysterious that it's easy to lift him on a pedestal because no one among us nobles have actually seen the man himself."

"Precisely," Seokjin agreed with Taehyung. "That's why I was so surprised when I read the letter– honestly, I still don't believe it even now, so surprised might be a bit of an understatement."

Jungkook grinned. "Look at it this way, your beauty has to be even more legendary, if it caused the crown prince of Ilsan of all people to move. That person who was so elusive that people used to doubt whether he existed or not."

Seokjin flushed to his ears, looking away. He waved his hand, as if it would have made the redness go away as well. "Aish, stop talking nonsense."

"So…what do you plan on doing?" Jungkook asked, doe eyed and curious as he cut to the crux of the matter with unfortunate ease. Seokjin had been hoping that a solution would have magically presented itself by now.

"I don't know," he sighed, folding the letter. "I suppose I'll think more about it. Have a talk with mother and father as well–that is, if they don't do it first. They'd have undoubtedly heard about the proposal as well."

Seokjin sits on it for two weeks, before he says yes.

(Really, what Namjoon had failed to think of– but what Yoongi and Hoseok had already foreseen the moment they had heard the younger's plan– was Namjoon's overwhelming fame.)

Chapter Text

"He agreed!?" Namjoon screeched, the letter crumpling in his grip. "Is this– did you do something? Threaten their kingdom? Bribe them?"

"Kim Namjoon," his father said sharply, the reprimand cutting through the air. The sharp tone made Namjoon pause, chastised as he realized the gravity of the accusation he just made. It was a good thing they were having this conversation in his father's office rather than the throne room where their talk would have been under the scrutiny of an audience.

"My apologies. I was simply surprised at the unexpected reply." Namjoon replied smoothly. His composed reply was ruined by him running a hand through his hair as he spoke, his abject shock over the situation greater than his bearing as a prince. "I just don't understand! What could possibly have possessed a man as universally beloved as Kim Seokjin to make a decision like this!?"

His mother answered it, but he tuned out her explanation when he realized that she was saying that they weren't entirely sure of how it came about either, but they were so happy that he was getting to marry the person he had chosen. She mentioned that although there was a possibility the other kingdom might reconsider their acceptance after hearing their terms, but the positive response in the letter was still more than any other kingdom received– most other kingdoms had received outright rejections, worded so clearly despite the flowery words that it couldn't have been interpreted as anything but.

"Hold on a second," Namjoon interrupted, a note of suspicion creeping into his voice as he processed his mother’s explanation. "What did you mean by 'your terms'?"

His mother offered him a smile that he was sure was meant to be reassuring, but it did not reassure Namjoon in the slightest. His father cleared his throat to get his attention, and Namjoon's unease spiked. A bad feeling settled in his chest, an instinct that warned him he was about to hear something he definitely did not want to hear. Was it too selfish to not want to know more about something that might upend the carefully constructed world he had built up for himself?

But one didn't become a crown prince by avoiding difficult matters, so Namjoon braced himself, knowing his parents well enough to understand that whatever they were about to share stemmed from their love for him as his father and mother and not as the king and queen. They wouldn't have been so secretive had it been anything related to his duties. Namjoon had never shied away from fulfilling his responsibility as a prince, however tedious a task may be, and no one had ever felt the need to remind him of it after his childhood lessons of his role coming with expectations that required dedication and diligence that he'd taken to heart. So the fact that they're only bringing up their mysterious terms now meant that it was most definitely something that he'd disapprove of.

We… are aware of how much you dislike your own appearance,” his father began, capturing Namjoon's full attention. He turned his focus toward the ornate desk behind which his father sat, its polished surface reflecting the dim light of the room. Namjoon looked up and met his eyes, striving to keep the dread off his face. His father met his gaze levelly, continuing."We decided to add a clause to the marriage that would ideally make this easy for the both of you."

Namjoon waited for him to go on, having a feeling that it would not make things easy for either him or his to be betrothed. Or maybe he was being too cynical. Perhaps he was allowing his own fears and insecurities to cloud his judgment. Surely his parents, being more experienced in marriage, would have seen something that he couldn't with the anxiety clouding his thoughts.

(An unfortunately large part of him said that this optimism was a doomed attempt, and his father's next words confirmed that.)

"It's been agreed that he shall not see you for a year into the marriage, and you're only to meet in a darkened room each night. "We'll propose this arrangement to the prince's family and vassals during the upcoming meeting–" His father nodded towards the letter in Namjoon's hand, which had requested them to set up a date to meet at the earliest convenience, "–and we hope they'll be receptive to the idea."

What.

Namjoon’s mind raced as he looked from his father’s stern face to his mother’s inscrutable expression. Neither of them appeared to be joking to relieve the tension in the room before they got on with the actual topic on hand.

He licked his lips nervously, trying to process the absurdity of what he had just heard. He briefly wondered where in hell he should even start with to point out how that was quite possibly even worse than anything he could have conjured up, but then gave up the idea. Namjoon didn't think he had the words for that– but really, how could anyone possibly think this was a good idea?

The thought of marrying someone without ever seeing their face for an entire year, only to meet in darkness, was not just bizarre; it was a complete inversion of everything any sane person would expect from a marriage. Who would agree to such an arrangement?

"I- I don't think Kim Seokjin would be desperate enough for that," he said weakly, unable to make a further argument after being caught off guard by this ridiculous suggestion. He felt that he made a valid point in that one sentence nevertheless. Namjoon didn't need to argue in the first place– if anything, his parents are helping in his quest to make sure he gets rejected.

The logic behind sending the proposal had initially seemed straightforward: a man covered so highly would likely never accept, which would relieve Namjoon from the relentless pressure he felt from those around him regarding his impending marriage. The entire notion had been a means to an end, a way to buy him time and space. He wouldn't hope for the topic to never be breached again, but they'd have left him alone for a short while at least, to heal from a lost love in the eyes of others. Gwacheon's acceptance of the proposal had thrown a wrench in his plans, but this would get it back on track.

(Namjoon had been planning to take in one of his cousins' children to succeed him as an heir anyway after he became king, but this was not the time to tell anyone about this.)

His parents give him hollow platitudes of how that's what negotiations are for and it turns into a mini lecture of how you should never assume the other party will agree to all your terms at once whenever you're drawing a contract, but Namjoon still isn't convinced. He loved his land and would die for it and it's people, but looking at it clinically, neither he nor his kingdom could compare up to the wealth and power of Gwacheon or its crown prince. Maybe the prince had other reasons for the tentative acceptance of the proposal– Namjoon was not self absorbed to think that other people did not have problems of their own– but he could not see what kind of issues could Ilsan help the man with when he had kings and emperors lining up for him with grand promises of unimaginable luxuries and the rarest of gifts.

He made his excuses and left the room, not bothering to argue further. There was no need to, when his parents were inadvertently making sure that the proposal proceeded in the direction Namjoon wanted. The thought even managed to make his lips curve up in a small smile, and he gave a brisk nod as he walked through the halls. Kim Seokjin and his family would hear the terms and immediately rescind the acceptance, making the negotiations fall through.

The marriage moving forward was out of the question, obviously. As he had told his parents, there was no way the man was as desperate as that.

(As it turns out, Kim Seokjin really was as desperate as that.

Gwacheon protested some and made amendments to few of the other parts of the contract to compensate for the seemingly unreasonable clause, but the contract in the end was signed with undoubted swiftness.)

"Don't you look beautiful."

Namjoon, already covered from head to toe and in the process of choosing a veil that'd obscure his entire face, gave Yoongi a stink eye. "Ha ha, very funny."

"At least the clothes are pretty!" Hoseok chimed in, popping up from behind Yoongi. The two had walked into Namjoon's room, no doubt curious about how the preparations were going on his big day. "You're probably the only one who could have made the delicate lace and silk work in this freezing cold and hail– you're going to make the entire Gwacheon retinue jealous at this point. That dragon mana is really heating you up, huh?"

Namjoon's eyes widened, ignoring the rest of his best friend's spiel. "Wait, it's not really hailing out there, is it?" His voice was tinged with concern as he glanced anxiously toward the window, imagining the worst. It'd just be his luck.

The man just laughed, giving Namjoon a pat on his shoulder. "Just a figure of speech. Don't worry, your wedding day is still looking perfect so far."

"Unless you suddenly burst out into flames after you take a look at your beautiful fiance, that is," he added with twinkling eyes, clearly enjoying the moment.

Yoongi chuckled at that too, making Namjoon pout. "That was just once! I was four! I can't believe you'd imply that I still have so little control over my magic."

"Well," Yoongi drawled, sounding completely unrepentant about whatever he was about to say and taking an unholy amount of glee pushing Namjoon's buttons. "Unlike melting down a whole lake because you got so excited at your first time ice skating, there are hundreds of other people in the vicinity this time, so do be careful."

"I'm not going to burn down anything!" Namjoon complained, pout intensifying. "That literally just happened once! My control over my magic is impeccable!"

"Of course," Hoseok agreed, trying to contain his laughter. He let go of his earlier teasing, allowing his lips to curve up into his characteristic warm smile. "Our resident genius."

Namjoon glanced at him before turning to the looking glass to ensure that he looked presentable after the soft, gossamer veil had been adjusted underneath his ornate crown. The procession would be arriving soon, and he didn't want to be late to his own wedding, or worse, appear unkempt and disarrayed. Although technically all he was responsible for was just himself and his conduct– because the servants that were standing dutifully at the back of the room would make sure that not even a stray hair would escape their meticulous care of his appearance– but he supposed it was the principal of the matter. And the fact that he desperately needed something to do to avoid thinking about his own marriage.

He bit back a sigh, studying his reflection with a critical eye. He supposed he looked befitting of his status and the occasion, enveloped in layers and layers of airy silk and intricate lace that were all gifts from Gwacheon. Namjoon was particularly fond of the dainty lace choker that adorned his neck, a small yet exquisite detail that added to the overall grandeur of his attire. The craftsmanship that went into each part of his wedding ensemble was incredible, and Namjoon suddenly understood on a visceral level why Gwacheon was famous for their textile exports, even more than their bountiful fields.

His thoughts drifted to Seokjin who would be dressed similarly, wearing their softest fur and adorned from top to bottom with the gems and jewelry that Ilsan prided itself on. The tradition worked out beautifully in their favour, because as Hoseok had said, his innate heat allowed himself to be the only person who can flaunt the delicate fabrics without freezing. Meanwhile Seokjin would certainly appreciate the locally crafted robes, because Gwacheon's winters could not compare to the ones in the North, despite it still being a warmer season right now.

(Namjoon frowned at the thought, making a mental note to personally check on the preparations for winter this year. The servants in the castle were all born and bred in Ilsan, accustomed to its climate and resilient to the chill that would soon blanket the region. There was a chance that they might forget about the fact that Seokjin wouldn't be accustomed to the climate. Namjoon might not have entered the marriage willingly, but he couldn't have his husband be uncomfortable and sick. That was unacceptable.)

“Do I look fine?” Namjoon asked, tugging at his sleeves in a somewhat futile gesture. He knew there was little chance of them slipping back to reveal the scales hidden beneath his skin, especially with the long gloves he planned to wear underneath. Those gloves would effectively conceal his claw-like hands as well, yet despite this assurance, anxiety tugged at him.

"You look wonderful," Yoongi said firmly, Hoseok adding his own sincere reassurances.

Namjoon didn't have time to linger on his nerves, because then there were last minute adjustments to be had and things to do and soon Namjoon found himself ushered to another room to meet briefly with his to-be in-laws. It wasn't until he was standing behind the grand doors of the ceremony hall that he got a brief moment to himself to think.

It wasn't for long though– because all thoughts flew out of mind the second he saw Kim Seokjin being escorted to the ceremony hall.

You know what? On second thought, perhaps meeting your future husband for the first time right before your wedding wasn’t the best of ideas. Namjoon felt that absolutely nothing could have adequately prepared him for the man who stood before him.

Sure, he had heard the whispers and praises that surrounded Kim Seokjin. Namjoon understood, on a logical level, that the man was nearly ethereal in his beauty. He was also aware of the accolades regarding Seokjin’s literary brilliance and his gifted voice. Yet, seeing him in person made all the rumors pale in comparison.

And Namjoon never thought he'd say something like that, with how much Seokjin's appearance was exalted.

Words would die in his throat if he tried to describe how unreal the prince looked while bedecked with emeralds upon emeralds– Ilsan's colors, but now appearing for all the world that perhaps the gemstones' entire reason for existence was to adorn this very man. The white fur coat that draped over him resembled the freshest snow , and at that moment, Namjoon could almost understand how the ice faeries of legend must have appeared. That’s what his husband resembled—a fairy.

(Namjoon understood now, why Yoongi warned him not to burst into flames. Because that's exactly what he felt like right now.)

As Seokjin approached, he dipped into a formal bow, his escort stepping back and completing his duty. Now it was Namjoon’s turn to take the lead. His responsibility, his partner, his husband.

He bowed back, equally formal, and offered his arm.

Seokjin took it, and Namjoon tried to quell his worries about the thoughts that might be running in the other's mind. Could he feel the scales running up Namjoon's arm under the satin and silk? Was his arm too hot to hold comfortably?

Namjoon closed his eyes briefly, centering himself.

Later.

He'd worry later, after he'd seen the ceremony through. This was in his land and on his terms, and the least he could do was make sure every fiber of him was focused on ensuring his husband had a flawless experience on a day that was as much for him as for Namjoon.

Chapter Text

Seokjin stood outside the heavy wooden door, a sense of apprehension knotting his stomach as he contemplated the threshold that separated him from his husband, who was supposedly waiting for him inside. A part of him was excited at opening a new chapter in his life and talking to his husband for the first time, but Seokjin was anxious by nature, and his tutors never managed to make him grow out of his overthinking. He learnt how to handle it better though, and forging ahead despite fear was an old habit, by now.

He knew that lingering there for too long would serve no purpose; he couldn’t afford to let his nerves get the best of him– so there was hardly anything he could do except put aside his anxiety and knock on the aged wood. He certainly couldn't stand there forever (and god forbid, risk disappointing the man he married on the very first day of their union itself), and the more he hesitated, the more gossip there would be. Rumors could spread like wildfire, and he had no desire to become the subject of hushed whispers or curious glances.

(He hoped the servants were loyal, but caution is something you wield like a second skin, being a royal.)

There was a deep, quiet reply of "Enter" from behind the door, and Seokjin took in one last steadying breath before he turned the handle and slowly pushed the door open, allowing himself to step inside.

Royal Highness Kim Seokjin was a flawless prince, and the only whispers about him should be one of admiration. Anything less than absolute confidence in himself would be short-sighted, even in front of his supposed husband.

He only got a fleeting moment to take a quick glimpse around the room, absorbing the faint details that flickered in his peripheral vision, before it suddenly plunged into complete and utter darkness as the door closed behind him. He'd expected it, but he can't lie and say the total darkness didn't take him by surprise. His heart raced as his pupils dilated in a futile attempt to adjust to the absence of light, and his instincts flared up in protest. He fought against the urge to look around wildly, desperately trying to make out something, anything, beyond the total blindness that enveloped in.

Seokjin sucked in another deep breath in an attempt to compose himself and pull himself together for goodness's sake, reminding himself that he was inside a castle room, not in some great void. It was harder than he anticipated, because Gwacheon's castle had always been well lit with an open, airy feel for plenty of natural light. Even in secret passages he always carried a torch with him, and the moonlight always washed his bedroom with pale blue light after the servants had stuffed out the lamps.

The moment spent in recollection had served it's purpose in calming him down to a degree, and he straightened his back to shake off the lingering tension that had gripped him. Seokjin attempted to make his way to his husband, carefully navigating through the room with the fervent wish that his eyes would adjust faster and restore some of his vision. A sound broke through the stillness—a rustling of fabric nearby (and if he had been more focused, he'd have realized it was too loud to be anything other than intentional).

He felt a firm, yet gentle hand on his arm, the unnatural warmth easy to feel even through the layers of fabric Seokjin wore to counter the cold.

"Are you alright?"

Seokjin recognized the voice as his husband, and he nodded, before opening his mouth to reply as it hit him that Namjoon won't be able to see the nod.

“I’m glad,” Namjoon said quickly, his voice warm and reassuring before Seokjin could even manage to form a reply. Seokjin felt a faint tug on his sleeve, a gentle guiding motion. "The bed is this way if you want to get comfortable and have something solid to grasp onto–I won't take up much of your time, don't worry."

A brief pause followed, and in that silence, Seokjin found himself yearning to see Namjoon’s expression. Was he annoyed by the circumstances? Perhaps apathetic to their situation? Or could it be that he was smiling, the corners of his lips turned upward, every inch the charming man he was rumored to be?

“Or,” Namjoon continued, his tone shifting slightly, “you could retire to your room as well, husband. I’m sure the servants have everything prepared for you, and I’ll talk to Father and Mother. You do not have to worry about a thing.”

Seokjin was momentarily overwhelmed at the sudden barrage of options, steeling himself and projecting the sweet, composed prince he was famous as.

(And most definitely trying to not think of the way Namjoon said "husband" in his rich, deep voice.)

"Would you be so kind as to lead me to the bed?"

The sound of a soft breath. A gentle and steady voice. "Of course."

Namjoon’s hand remained firmly on Seokjin’s arm as he carefully guided him through the dark room with deliberate and measured steps, ensuring that Seokjin could map out the unfamiliar path in his mind. When they finally reached the bed, Namjoon only let go of his arm once Seokjin felt the solid frame of the bed against the back of his knees. He eased himself onto the surface, sinking into the plush mattress. Seokjin took a moment to adjust, relishing the sensation of the soft bedding beneath him as he arranged himself in a comfortable sitting posture. He could hear Namjoon doing the same beside him, judging by the rustling of his clothes.

Seokjin idly stroked the bedding around him, and it wasn't until his fingers brushed over plush pillows and what felt like an amazingly soft blanket near him that realized the distinct lack of something. Something that should have been very, very prominent, something that had clung to him like a shadow since the time he arrived in this country.

The cold.

For the first time since his arrival, Seokjin became acutely aware of the absence of the chilling air that had seeped into his bones, a constant reminder of his new environment– so different from the pleasant sunshine of Gwacheon, which felt like a distant dream once he witnessed the Ilsan weather. He had resigned himself to simply getting used to it, but here, he was enveloped in a cozy warmth that surrounded him like a protective barrier.

His fingers curled around the light blanket on the bed, thinking back on it with a now clearer head and wondering if it was simply the way the buildings here were constructed– surely, in a land as cold as this, the craftsmen must have innovative ways of reducing the draft of a room and helping it retain as much heat as possible– or was this too, because of his husband? He didn't know much about the dragon powers running through the veins of the Ilsan royal family– and by much he meant absolutely nothing, other than the conjecture that it might be something related to fire since that's what dragons are infamous for. Thinking back on how Namjoon's hands were almost…hot when he had touched Seokjin's sleeve, was it his husband's presence that was making the room feel warm?

Seokjin didn't know. Seokjin didn't know anything about his husband except the bare minimum, and as someone who was used to knowing everything going on in his own kingdom, he hated it.

Yet, he consoled himself, this was just their first night together, a mere beginning in what he hoped would be a long and fulfilling journey. He reminded himself that while he had entered into this union with a severe lack of information about Namjoon, he had every intention of making up for it in the days and weeks to come. That was what these conversations were for after all, and so far, Seokjin still wouldn't have changed his decision of choosing the Ilsan prince had he had the chance to go back in time.

Seokjin was in an unfamiliar land, with a husband yet still unknown to him, but it was far better than being in an unfamiliar land with a man that he knew was cruel, or decades older than him, or worse, a child that might have just finished their coming of age ceremony. And as he'd told his brothers when they protested his hasty decision, Namjoon might turn out to be a fiend, but he couldn't have just stayed unmarried either. He wasn't blind to the very real possibility of war when some kings got tired of asking for his hand and deciding to take it by force instead.

He idly ran his hands over the luxurious blanket, waiting patiently for his husband to start something. Normally, Seokjin would know what to expect on a wedding night, but since he was very explicitly not allowed to touch Namjoon or look at him until a year into the marriage, Seokjin was rather unsure of how to behave. What did the contract say again? He knew it was important and he was sure he'd gone over it enough times that even his brothers got fed up with him reading it, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember the details at that moment, in this darkened room. Was Namjoon allowed to touch him? His husband did reach out to guide him around the room, but was the way he took hold of Seokjin's clothed arm instead of his bare hand intentional?

Seokjin really didn't know anything, and his husband was not giving him the chance to either, with how the silence stretched on.

He finally cleared his throat, unable to take it anymore. His husband had seemed tall and intimidating at the wedding–Seokjin was aware they were of nearly the same height, but that fact only made it worse, because that meant Namjoon just simply had a presence that commanded respect with ease– but he had also been kind to him, softly guiding Seokjin around just as he had done for him in the bedroom. He supposed the man wouldn't mind terribly if Seokjin spoke up while being unaware that he was expected to wait silently.

"Namjoon-ssi…I happened to chance upon a look at the palace gardens on the way here, and I must say, the flowers are exceedingly beautiful. They made for a very charming sight."

"Oh! Thank you!" His husband replied with genuine enthusiasm, and Seokjin drew back with surprise at the sudden, unexpected delight in his voice. He supposed that was the right topic to pick after all, was the man fond of the gardens perhaps?

"Did you have a chance to see the camellias? This is the season for them to bloom, and I always look forward to seeing them in their full glory." Namjoon continued, adding for his benefit, "the garden has both the pink and the red varieties, but personally, I admit to being partial to the red ones. The big blossoms appear especially striking after a night of snow."

Seokjin thought about the flowers he had seen in the brief moment that he walked through the courtyard. Despite being familiar with flowers and well versed in herbs, he hadn't had a chance to familiarize himself with Ilsan's native flora. But the description that Namjoon had kindly provided made him certain that the flowers he had seen were not the camellias the man spoke of.

"I'm afraid not," he replied, a polite smile on his face that no one would see in the enveloping darkness. "There were beautiful irises though, and lovely, large flowers, their shade a most alluring plum."

His husband made a noise of recognition, and Seokjin would kick himself later for thinking it, but it had honestly sounded…cute. A stark contrast from the powerful man that he was rumored to be. Seokjin couldn't help the thought though, the way Namjoon seemed to lit up with enthusiasm over flowers was undeniably endearing.

(Although he shouldn't be so surprised. His youngest brother was deceptively adorable as well for someone as skilled in the sword arts as he was. And Jungkook managed to be a dual wielder, on top of that. Goodness.)

"That'd be the Hellebores!" Namjoon informed him, excitement clear in his voice. "They're very determined little things, managing to bloom so well even in the snow."

Seokjin made a soft noise of agreement, content to let his husband fill the silence as he went on about explaining more of the local flora and fauna of Ilsan. Namjoon spoke animatedly, sharing fascinating details about some of the exotic plants that had been imported from various countries to flourish in the splendid Royal gardens. This then led into a tangential discussion about the importance of maintaining the delicate balance of the natural ecosystem, particularly when it came to introducing potentially invasive species. Seokjin– who was curious to know more about the locality anyway– had no troubles indulging him, and he was quickly coming to the conclusion that his husband was exceedingly fond of plants, perhaps more than he had initially understood.

And animals too, apparantly. After Namjoon had thoroughly exhausted the topic of the gardens and the diverse plant life that thrived there, he eagerly transitioned into an enthusiastic description of the various animals that Seokjin could expect to encounter in Ilsan. It was most fascinating (because Namjoon had wolves? Wolves!? As in, more than one of an extremely ferocious creature? And he promised he'd introduce Seokjin to them?) and also because the prince took it as a moment to warn him about some of the more dangerous, ferocious wildlife that could be found in the forests and mountains– if they could be called that. Wildlife, in Seokjin's understanding, were the domesticated animals one was prone to finding in forests, be it a harmless bird or a wild boar that could gore through a man if not careful. What Ilsan had was monsters, and there was a reason the northern kingdoms were collectively known as a defensive wall that protected the land below. Granted, the coasts in the Southern kingdoms had their own foes to deal with, but the creatures of the seas rarely left its depths. The ones of the mountains, though…

"I'll take care not to venture too far," Seokjin promised with complete seriousness, resolved to not be an idiot who wandered aimlessly into dangerous areas.

Namjoon paused for a moment, and Seokjin thought he might have managed to please Namjoon with his sensible response. However, to his surprise, the younger prince continued with a shy laugh that echoed softly in the dim room. "As much as that'd be wonderful for everyone's peace of mind that our treasure is safe, my aim was certainly not to restrict you. Rest assured that the Royal guards are the best of knights, fully capable of dispatching any monster that threatens you. They'd never be far from you at any time, but if you ever wish for some privacy, just please make sure to inform someone before you go, yes? So even if anything happens–because it's unwise to underestimate the dangers– we'd be able to reach you swiftly. In addition, since you’ll be going down to the grounds to meet the wolves tomorrow, I’d feel much at ease if you could pick one of them to accompany you or at least stay in your vicinity. I promise they won’t bring you any harm! And… well, I cannot always accompany you because of our marriage clause, but if anything happens—anything at all—trust that I will take care of it. No harm will befall my husband, even if the universe itself wills it."

Seokjin's cheeks had already blushed pink at being called a treasure, and just when they were going back to normal at Namjoon's long speech, they positively burst into color at the last words. Which was silly, because he has heard countless such niceties and flattery and boasts from his suitors, all bustling about how strong they were! But he'd also long been resigned to the fact that his traitorous skin flushed red too easily even when he didn't want it to, and just thanked the small mercy that the room was too dark for anything to be seen.

As for his reply, there was a great deal that could be said, each passing thought battling in his mind to be voiced. He could choose to tease Namjoon about the way he had just attempted to reassure him once again, insisting that the wolves they were about to encounter weren’t dangerous at all. This came right after Namjoon had previously gushed for what felt like an eternity—half an hour, to be exact—about how utterly adorable and fluffy the creatures were. That chain of thought brought to mind his fleeting disappointment about how his husband won't be accompanying him to introduce him to them, but he discarded it as soon as he came. He was not going to voice a passing moment of clinginess, what did he think Namjoon was? Someone as familiar as his brothers? He resisted the snort of laughter that budded up at the thought, instead thinking of safer, more generic topics to broach. Perhaps express concern over how dangerous the monsters seem to be, or even make polite small talk about the royal knights.

But at his core, Seokjin was never one for much propriety, and an impertinent retort came out of his mouth before he could give it a second thought.

"With all these rules to take care of," Seokjin said with a teasing lilt in his voice and a laugh to make up for what his cheeky smile couldn't in the dark, "One would think that it'd be best to not venture out at all."

Seokjin heard Namjoon make an embarrassed noise, and he bit his lip to stop himself from smiling at the flustered reaction he managed to evoke.

"That–that was not my intention! Truly, I didn't mean to discourage you from exploring the beautiful country!" Namjoon amended hastily, and Seokjin had a feeling his husband would be particularly fun to tease in the future. Some day. If he finds Namjoon's temper to be amicable to jokes and sport.

"Of course, I only jest." Seokjin agreed, deciding to relieve him of his misery. Preferably before he finds out that the man might actually turn out to be a stickler for propriety after all.

"That…indeed." Namjoon said with an embarrassed laugh, and Seokjin was pleased that he was not chastised. Though there was a small tug on Seokjin's sleeve to get his attention, and the man's next words were spoken in complete seriousness despite being still tinged with shyness. "But do not hesitate to rely on me, okay? Your protection is my duty."

"I will," Seokjin promised, and the conversation moved to other topics until it was time for them to retire to their respective bedrooms. As far as wedding nights go, Seokjin's might have been a most unusual one, but it was not a bad one, per se.

He didn't know whether the good mood will stay, or if his husband might turn out to be different from the kind person he appeared to be today, but Seokjin had a good feeling about it. At the very least, he wouldn't have to lie about today in his letter to his family, no matter what the future may hold.

Chapter Text

It's a pleasant day outside, Seokjin notes off handedly as he walks past a well maintained courtyard. The sunshine is particularly strong and bright this morning, warming the air and casting cheerful rays across the landscape. Seokjin basked in the sunlight streaming through the arches as he walked, a content sigh leaving him. He'd never realized how much he'd missed the warm days he spent in Gwacheon. Even a week of living in Ilsan is enough to make him appreciate his plains even more than he already did.

As he walks, the servant who has been accompanying him to the library makes an agreeable noise, breaking the comfortable silence. She glances up at him and asks with a hopeful tone whether he would like to spend the day outside, enjoying the fresh air and sunshine.

Seokjin ponders her question for a moment, looking out at the inviting scene around him. "I don't know, there's much to be done," he answered her with a rueful smile. While his training and upbringing as a prince helps significantly, Seokjin still feels like he has a lot to learn about Ilsan's culture and administration. In that regard, his husband has been extremely helpful with his nightly lessons.

(Although, Namjoon might not know that they were lessons. In all honesty, they were having simple conversations and Seokjin was content to let him ramble on. His husband had a wonderful voice, knowledge of an impressive number of topics, and a love of sharing his joy with others– it made him the perfect teacher.)

"Seokjin hyung!"

Seokjin turned at the sound of his name being called, allowing a small smile when he saw it was Hoseok walking behind him. There were only two people who called him hyung in the castle after all– Hoseok, Namjoon's best friend, and Yoongi, Namjoon's cousin. Seokjin had insisted as such, believing that since they were practically brothers to Namjoon, they were therefore his brothers-in-law in all but name (mostly for the former's benefit– Yoongi was obviously related by blood).

Hoseok increased his pace to catch up with Seokjin, effortlessly falling into step beside him. He clutched a book in one hand, a hint of excitement in his eyes as he approached. But then again, Seokjin couldn't say when Hoseok didn't have the slight tinge of excitement in everything he did. Over the past few weeks, he and Hoseok had grown increasingly familiar with one another, largely due to their shared love for spending time in the library.

Seokjin was pleasantly surprised to learn that Hoseok came from a family deeply rooted in academia; his father was an accomplished teacher and writer, which explained the man’s own evident passion for literature. A love for books clearly ran in the family, although Hoseok chose a different path from his father– Hoseok's strength lay in the battlefield, from what Seokjin had heard. An accomplished soldier on the field, but what the man was truly infamous for was his gift of being a brilliant strategist.

Seokjin didn't know how true the intel was, but considering he'd employed the best of Gwacheon's intelligence network, he'd like to think it was.

He watched Hoseok flinch when a lizard suddenly scuttled across a wall.

…Seokjin really hoped he hadn't wasted precious taxpayer's money on some useless spies.

"Going to the library?" Hoseok asked, collecting himself.

"Where else?" Seokjin joked. "Unless a new wing opened up in this direction."

The other laughed, the noise carrying across the courtyard. "Mm, you never know where a secret passage might be. But speaking of which, it's too good of a day to spend indoors."

Seokjin titled his head with a knowing smile, and Hoseok grinned back, unabashed at his less than subtle admittance to having overheard his previous conversation.

"That was a terrible change of topic, especially for you."

"I simply judged it unnecessary to waste time dallying on small talk while slowly arriving at the subject when we could be enjoying the sun." Hoseok shrugged, heart shaped smile ever present. "Now, before you refuse me with pretty words of how busy you are, I'm going to attempt to convince you by saying that it'd still be important work and not just leisure."

Seokjin closed his eyes for a moment, huffing a quiet laugh. "Well, I shall not refuse my husband's sworn brother. Consider me convinced." He looked over to Hoseok, amused. "What exactly is this important work? A spar with the swords, perhaps?"

"Not exactly, but while on the topic, we should train together this weekend! I'd love to have a match!" Hoseok waved his hand in excitement. "But today I've been thinking of introducing you to the wolves, since Namjoon has mentioned letting you choose one of them as a companion."

Seokjin paused, mind going back to his wedding night. Yes, Namjoon had certainly mentioned that, but Seokjin had put it out of his mind. Mostly because it sounded a little scary.

"The wolves?" He asked weakly. Hoseok just laughed in reply, clapping a hand on his back. Normally, Seokjin would have chided him mentally at the impropriety, but he'd learnt that Hoseok was as tactile as his two brothers.

(And contrary to popular belief, Seokjin was not in fact the most proper of princes, and keeping up the formalities was a chore that he was eager to drop whenever he could afford to.)

Hoseok dismissed Seokjin's servant to inform Namjoon of their plans, turning back to him. "Don't be like that, they're harmless! Mostly. To you, at least. Once you're introduced."

Seokjin gave him a look. "That does not fill me with confidence."

"It'd be okay, you have me! They love me the most, second only to Yoongi." Hoseok paused, giggling. "Unfortunately for poor Namjoon, his wolves generally do not give him the time of the day."

Seokjin raised his eyebrows, allowing Hoseok to lead him towards the area where the wolves were kept.

"It's not that he's a bad owner, you know," Hoseok explained, his tone filled with earnestness. "He truly loves them to bits. I mean, he’s known them since they were just little pups, so there’s definitely a bond there. But Namjoon insists that the wolves are just a bit mad at him because he’s so busy all the time and can't visit them as often as he would like to."

Seokjin listened attentively, offering a polite smile in response. Deep down, he hoped that the wolves' apparent attitude was merely playful annoyance, as Hoseok believed, because he had always harbored a certain skepticism towards individuals who were disliked animals. There was something about that disconnect that made him uneasy.

"How many are there anyway?"

"The wolves? There's Iseul, the mother–her mate died on a hunting expedition so you won't see him–but you might see her sibling Dae. But honestly, those two are quite old and I'd rather not disturb them if they're resting. The ones we'd see in the courtyard up ahead would most likely be the kids. There's Monie–funny story behind his name, Joonie named him when he was six, I'll tell you someday–and there's Cho, Sagwa, Odeng, and Eomuk."

Seokjin bit back a laugh. "Rather than Monie, I feel like I'm more curious about the names of the other two."

Hoseok was about to respond to Seokjin’s question, but whatever he was about to say was abruptly interrupted by a loud growling sound that echoed through the air. It seemed that they had finally reached the courtyard Hoseok had been leading him to, and as Seokjin took in the sight before him, his mind went completely blank.

Now, he might be mistaken, because he'd seen a wolf just once, and even then it was a dead one being bragged about by some noble or other, but he was…dubious that they were so huge.

"They're quite…large," he ventured cautiously, glancing over at Hoseok for reassurance.

"Just harmless balls of pure fluff!" Hoseok declared confidently. His tone was bright and reassuring, making it clear that he had no doubts about the wolves' temperament. Just then, Hoseok’s attention shifted, and he called out, "Ah, Mrs. Won! What did Namjoonie say?"

The servant bowed to them, and Seokjin turned in some surprise. He hadn't realized when she had returned from talking to his husband, but she must have been present behind them for some time.

"His excellency says to go ahead and enjoy time with the wolves, and would like for the prince consort to choose one for his companion, as previously discussed. He expresses his regrets over not being able to be present personally, and also would like to convey his assurance to the prince consort that Sir Jung is reliable and is much adored by the wolves, and there is no danger present."

Seokjin gave her a short nod, shoulders slightly relaxing from the tension they had acquired on seeing the creatures. He believed Hoseok, but it was slightly more gratifying to hear the same assurances being echoed by his husband, despite not knowing the man for long.

It didn't go unnoticed by Hoseok, who teased with a merry laugh and twinkling eyes. "So it's not okay when I tell you it's going to be fine, but it's alright if Namjoonie says it, hmm?"

Seokjin pinked, walking forward quickly. "There's absolutely nothing like that, you're quite mista– oh my lord!"

The stablehand (or what would be the equivalent when it was wolves instead of horses? Seokjin did not dwell on it) came running from where he'd stood, coaxing away the large grey creature that had bounded over towards Seokjin in worryingly powerful strides.

"'m sorry m'lord, she is but excited. They generally ain't so welcomin' to strangers, but I suppose maybe you smelled familiar enough."

“It’s fine,” Seokjin said, waving his hand dismissively, even though his heart was pounding wildly in his chest. He tried to remind himself that these creatures didn't mean him any harm, but knowing was different from feeling. He also chose not to focus on the impolite comment that would have been an innuendo to his married life, wise enough to know that in this scenario it was what it seemed– just an employee giving a plausible explanation on topics Seokjin didn't know much of.

“That would be Odeng,” Hoseok chimed in gesturing to the wolf. “And right behind her is Eomuk. You really won’t find these two apart; they’re practically inseparable.” Hoseok paused, glancing at Seokjin expectantly until he nodded in acknowledgment. “Would you like me to introduce you to the rest of them? Namjoon would have loved to do that, but unfortunately, he’s as busy as always.”

With a gentle sigh, Hoseok took a step forward, reaching out to scratch behind Odeng’s ear, his face breaking into a cheerful smile as Seokjin observed in amazement. “That’s why all you kids have been upset with Joonie, isn’t it? He hardly has the time to see you more than a few times a month, does he?"

The wolf made a noise that seemed to be one of agreement, Eomuk echoing it as well. Hoseok laughed at them and gave them some more scratches, attention returning to Seokjin as his eyes took on a slightly regretful look. "And, ah well, Namjoon would have liked to accompany if he was free, but to appear in daylight…"

“Ah yes, the clause,” Seokjin muttered, the weight of the reality settling heavily on his shoulders. It dawned on him just how impossible it was for him to see his husband for an entire year. The only occasion he had glimpsed Namjoon during daylight was on their wedding day, and even then, the man was cloaked from head to toe. Seokjin vividly recalled wondering how Namjoon could possibly see anything through a veil so thick. Obviously, the prince wouldn’t choose to shroud himself in layers of clothing every single day in his own kingdom, solely to spend a fleeting moment with his consort. It wasn't very practical, even if you consider Ilsan's cold climate.

(He does wonder though, how was he supposed to rely on his husband for protection if the man cannot show himself in Seokjin's presence?)

His thoughts were interrupted by howls, and he focused back on the wolves, idly wondering if they could someone read the question in his mind and wanted to remind him that they were one of the ways through which Namjoon could protect him.

"Do you want to pet them?"

"Heh!?

Hoseok laughed softly, his grip on Seokjin's hand tightening as he silently sought permission with a glance. “There’s nothing to be scared of! It’s just like petting a dog. Here, let them smell you first.”

Seokjin privately thought that dogs weren't that big and scary, but he sucked it up and allowed Hoseok to lead his trembling hand under one of the wolves' noses. Odeng, if he remembered correctly.

She took a good sniff and paused as Seokjin watched warily, before breaking out into excited howls– or at least, Seokjin hoped they were excited. The stableboy confirmed it for him, telling him how she liked him already and guided him into petting her

As Seokjin’s hand sank into Odeng’s fluffy fur, he couldn’t suppress the look of surprise that crossed his face before he quickly schooled himself into a more neutral expression. Perhaps the people were onto something after all—these wolves were incredibly soft and surprisingly docile.

Odeng rubbed her head against his palm, clearly enjoying the attention, while Eomuk eagerly bounded forward to sniff Seokjin’s hand as well. He noticed other wolves beginning to gather around him, their curious eyes watching intently. Only the warning hands of Hoseok and the stableboy kept the pack from overwhelming him.

Speaking of whom, Seokjin realized he needed to learn the stableboy's name. He was naturally allowed to bring a small retinue of his own people to serve him in Ilsan, but it would be folly not to know the names of those who had served the castle for generations. It was his new home now, after all. He sighed mentally, filing away the goal of getting to know the staff better as yet another task to do. He refocused on the present in the meantime, directing his attention to the wolves.

Seokjin appreciated the creatures being held back, not being able to help a tiny flinch when Eomuk howled. He glanced nervously at Hoseok, who offered him a reassuring smile and gestured for him to continue, encouraging him to repeat the motions he had just learned.

Taking a deep breath, Seokjin cautiously followed Hoseok’s lead, slowly relaxing as he grew more comfortable with the wolves. By the end of the hour, he had memorized the names of each wolf and could begin to discern their individual personalities. To his delight, he found that playing with them was surprisingly fun; they really were like large, affectionate dogs, just as others had claimed.

“Sorry, sorry!” he laughed, trying to gently nudge the two excited creatures away from him as they insisted on continuing their playful antics. “I really have to go now, but it was so lovely spending time with all of you!”

He looked towards Hoseok, who was looking at the whole scene with twinkling eyes as he played with Sagwa–a smaller wolf– in his lap.

"Can I choose more than one as my companion?"

The strategist gave him a knowing smile, dipping his head towards the two wolves. "I don't think you could have separated Odeng and Eomuk anyway."

Seokjin smiled brightly at that, the two wolves howling excitedly, seeming to know what was going on. Their soft furs were ruffled by a gust of warm wind that blew past Seokjin, and he looked up instinctively at one of the windows of the upper floors, managing to catch a flash of long black hair and trailing robes before they disappeared down the corridor.

A sense of recognition washed over him; somehow, he knew it was Namjoon. Hoseok’s surprised laugh confirmed his suspicion, clearly having seen the same thing that he did.

Seokjin let out a surprised huff mixed with amusement, shaking his head to himself as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"I heard you took a liking to Odeng and Eomuk?" Namjoon asked that night.

"They're lovely," Seokjin replied, already accustomed to the fact that Namjoon tends to skip through small talk and formalities.

He was about to launch into more details about how his afternoon went, even if it was clearly unnecessary because Namjoon had been watching (or more likely, just passing through the corridor), and the man would have already received a report anyway. Just as he was about to speak, however, his thoughts were interrupted by a gentle touch in his hair, prompting a confused noise to escape his lips.

He instinctively raised his hand to feel the softness that had just brushed against him, only to find delicate petals resting among his strands.

"Flowers for my flower," Namjoon explained kindly, and Seokjin wondered if the man was smiling. "I noticed you always put them in your hair so…I hope you don't mind me doing it for you?"

Namjoon had taken it upon himself to bring Seokjin flowers every night after Seokjin had mentioned his fondness for them on their very first evening together. He remembered how surprised he had been when Namjoon had unexpectedly thrust a bouquet of delicate blooms into his hands. At that moment, he’d been acutely aware of how fragile they were and had been determined not to crush them accidentally but with no way to keep them safe in the dark, he had decided to tuck the flowers into his hair.

What puzzled Seokjin was how Namjoon had noticed his makeshift floral accessory. It wasn’t like there was much light in the room to see by, but perhaps Namjoon had caught a glimpse of him when he had opened the door to return. It felt somewhat unfair that Seokjin had just begun to adapt to his husband's sweet words and thoughtful gifts, Seokjin often wondered if he had even a fraction of that same effect on Namjoon.

He didn't know how Namjoon had noticed his makeshift floral accessory–he certainly couldn't have seen anything in this unilluminated room, but perhaps he had caught a glimpse when Seokjin had opened the door to return. It's unfair, how Seokjin had just managed to get used to his husband's sweet words and the gifts, and yet Namjoon could still make him blush anew with his quiet observations and gentle affection. Seokjin probably didn't have a tenth of the effect on his husband, and it was grating on him.

He was no stranger to the charms of his looks, and he had no hesitation in weaponizing it either. But in this dark room, he might as well be fighting blind, and his husband taking the upper hand with ease with how– how sweet and caring he was. (Really, at this point, can anyone fault him for waiting for the other shoe to drop? Surely no one could keep up the act forever.)

But for now, Namjoon was a sweetheart, and for now, Seokjin allowed himself to be swept up in the affection.

“Thank you,” Seokjin replied softly, a shy smile creeping onto his face as he ducked his head, feeling his cheeks warm. He never voiced it, but with each passing day, he had begun to look forward to seeing the flowers in the light after he retreated to his own room.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, which wasn't all that unusual. While these few hours every night were for them to get to know each other more, neither of them were in a hurry either.

“Husband?” Seokjin ventured, his voice tentative as he hesitated to use the term. He wasn’t entirely sure if he was allowed to call Namjoon that, though it was how Seokjin's mother had always addressed his father.

His uncertainty quickly turned to surprise when a sudden crashing sound echoed through the room, as if something had just toppled to the floor. “Wha—what was that?” Seokjin asked, alarmed, his eyes wide as he scanned the dimly lit space.

"Nothing, nothing," Namjoon assured, sounding a little winded. "I just knocked over something, it's fine–um, you were saying?"

"Are you sure it's okay?" Seokjin asked doubtfully. Namjoon made an affirmative grunt, so he pushed that out of his mind to continue. "It's nothing much, I was just about to ask what you liked to do," Seokjin admitted shyly. Seokjin's hobbies were public knowledge (what with his numerous proposals including gifts that catered to his interests), but he knew very little about Namjoon. And Seokjin had never liked not knowing, even if this was far from an intricate court conspiracy.

“Oh,” Namjoon muttered, sounding genuinely surprised. “There’s really not much to say, honestly. I take great pleasure in reading, but lately, most of my reading material consists of state documents and reports.”

Seokjin laughed, relating to the man. He's heard whispers that the king was planning to step down soon, and as the heir, the prince must be more and more involved in state politics.

He waited patiently for Namjoon to continue, and was rewarded with more information.

“When I have a bit of free time, I like to stroll through the gardens and visit the wolves,” Namjoon said, a hint of nostalgia creeping into his voice. “But I suppose you already knew that—ah! You were fond of music, yes? I'm quite partial to the Gayageum."

Seokjin couldn’t help but smile bashfully at this revelation. “I can’t say I have any real proficiency in playing any sort of music,” he admitted, a touch of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. “But I do enjoy listening to it very much.”

“Ah, you act shy, but I’d have to be quite deaf not to have heard the accolades surrounding Prince Seokjin’s silver voice,” Namjoon replied, his tone light and humorous. “Why, it’s said to compete with a siren’s call, the way your singing entices people.”

"I hold no such powers," Seokjin responded drily to his husband's jokes, lips tugging upwards into a grin. "Unfortunately, you're the only one with magical powers in this relationship."

"Well, I'll gladly shoulder that burden then." Namjoon laughed, the sound stilted. "You're magical enough all by yourself, though."

Seokjin flushed, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish at the sudden cheesy lines that were dropping out of the other's mouth. Was his husband the smooth playboy type?

"Thank you. My singing aside, I'd love to hear you play someday. If you're willing, of course," Seokjin said, changing the topic.

"I can play right now, if you wish."

"Eh?"

"There's a gayageum in the room, actually," his husband explained, sounding a bit embarrassed. "It's not my personal one, but I had the servants keep one here in case we need some diversion."

Seokjin couldn’t help but smile despite himself, his eyes crinkling with amusement at the thought of Namjoon fretting over whether their conversation might grow boring and trying to find something they could do together. It was…undeniably sweet.

“Then I would be delighted if you’d play a few notes for me,” Seokjin encouraged, his heart warming at the prospect. “Although, the room is incredibly dark, so please be careful.”

“It’s fine, I know where it’s kept,” Namjoon assured him. Seokjin supposed he could roughly find an instrument as large as the gayageum, but he wondered how the man was even going to see the strings while playing. He supposed that the prince must be confident in his muscle memory. It wasn't that surprising– Jungkook could probably play his drums with his eyes closed as well.

Seokjin could distinctly hear the sound of Namjoon getting off the bed, followed by the faint sound of something being lifted. Moments later, he felt the bed dip under additional weight, confirming his assumption that Namjoon had indeed found the Gayageum.

"Any piece in particular that you'd like to hear?"

"I'm content with whatever you wish to play," Seokjin said graciously.

"Ah, then…," Namjoon paused to think for a few minutes, and then a few notes filled the air as he began playing. "It's a common Ilsan folk song," the man explained, the music picking up pace. "It's not as delicate as the usual pieces written for the Gayageum, since this one is mainly sung rather than played– it's not actually written for the Gayageum– but I'm rather fond of this song."

Namjoon lapsed into silence so that Seokjin could properly hear the piece, and he had to agree, it was indeed lovely. And it helped that the man was good with the instrument, and while Seokjin was not someone who played one, he could tell Namjoon was at least on the level of the professionally trained court musicians. Seokjin was the prince of Gwacheon, he'd had more than enough training on properly appreciating the arts and discerning good performances.

"That was wonderful," Seokjin praised, doing tiny claps so that Namjoon could hear his appreciation. "You must have been a prodigy at the Gayageum."

"Aish, nothing like that," Namjoon laughed. "I just like playing it, so I got a lot of practice. Now, if you want to talk about prodigies, you should see Yoongi-hyung with the tanso. He's very good with his mouth."

Seokjin licked his lip, wondering if they're at the stage yet where he can point out how inappropriate that might have sounded, but it turns out he didn't need to.

"I– that might have come out wrong," Namjoon apologized, sounding flustered. "Um, what do you want me to play next? Maybe a more traditionally Gayageum piece?"

Seokjin decided to let him change the topic, sensing the other's embarrassment. It wasn’t like Namjoon should even feel awkward; Seokjin could guarantee that he would be far more crass than that if the situation called for it. He had a reputation among Gwacheon’s upper echelons that was well known, despite the flowery and princely demeanor he often projected. Underneath the surface, he was no stranger to the sharper edges of humor and innuendo, and he found a certain thrill in pushing boundaries.

But Namjoon and Seokjin didn’t know each other that well yet, so it was only natural that they both tried to present their best selves to one another. They were still in the early stages of building a relationship, so naturally there was an inherent shyness to their interactions.

“Any piece would be nice,” Seokjin replied, offering a smile out of habit even if it was too dark to see. “You play so well, husband.”

There was a loud, dissonant note from the gayageum, making Seokjin wince. "Is– is everything alright?"

"Y-yeah!" Everything is fine, my hand just moved on its own– anyways, I'll play now," Namjoon replied, almost breathless.

Namjoon’s skilled hands settled down on the strings once again, and he soon began to produce the beautiful, melodic music that Seokjin had been anticipating. As the notes filled the room, Seokjin couldn’t help but hum along with the familiar part, lost in the soothing sound. It was an enjoyable experience, and it was almost disappointing when it seemingly ended in an instant even when he knew the piece was lengthy to begin with.

"Would you sing for me someday, hyung?" His husband asked shyly, and Seokjin bit back a smile. So much for being polite strangers.

"Someday," Seokjin replied, and Namjoon seemed content with that answer. The man started another piece, as lovely as the ones before it. If accompanied by music like this, what singer could resist?

Seokjin settled back into the soft cushions, letting himself relax. If this was Namjoon's idea of a good way to pass time instead of making conversation, then Seokjin can find no fault in this. He hoped the evening was as relaxing to the other too as it was him, playing the instrument that he clearly loved so much.

"You look like you got no sleep last night," Hoseok commented.

Namjoon just raised his sword, looking way too haggard for a man who finally got time to visit the sparring grounds. "He called me husband."

"Uh, that's because you are."

"Wow," Namjoon said, and Hoseok wondered whether he should be herding the man to bed instead. He was starting to look a little crazed. "Wow, I'm the husband. I can't believe I managed to marry someone like Seokjin? I mean, holy shit, husband is me?"

Hoseok just readied his sword and charged. He'd rather start the spar than listen to the ramblings of a lovesick man, not that he ever thought he'd ever use that adjective with Namjoon.

"Okay, but do you think he like, really sees me as his husband or is it just a title out of formality?" Namjoon asked once the match was over, both of them winding down on a bench.

Hoseok chucked his towel at him.

Chapter Text

"Wow, you're taking a break."

Namjoon turned away from the window in his office, grinning at Yoongi. "And I finished most of my work and will finish the rest within time, so you can't lecture me! Ha!"

Yoongi gave him a look, walking closer. "Asshole, when have I ever lectured you?"

"Uh, multiple times?"

Yoongi slapped his arm in retaliation, joining him at the window. He whistled when he saw what was outside, enjoying the way Namjoon squirmed. "I see you weren't just appreciating the gardens today."

"I still like looking at the gardens, the presence of other people there or not." Namjoon gave him a pointed look that did nothing to intimidate Yoongi, despite the fact that he did look rather threatening with his sharp eyes and the scales running up the sides of his face. He'd say that was to be expected since Yoongi– and Hoseok– practically grew up with him since the time they were all children. But then again, many of the servants and most of the nobles have seen him since he was a child too and they still couldn't completely suppress their fear even when they knew Namjoon wouldn't hurt them. A lot of them won't even look him in the eye, and Namjoon had long since resigned himself to that uncomfortable reality.

Yoongi smirked up at him. "But you're not complaining about having something particularly nice to admire today, aren't you?"

"I admire Seokjin daily." Namjoon upturned his nose in faux arrogance, finally acknowledging the man sitting on one of the benches in the gardens that overlooked Namjoon's office. He seemed to be just taking the time to relax, a rarity from what he had heard people say of the man.

There was something captivating about Seokjin, and Namjoon felt a flicker of warmth at the sight. For a moment, the office and its responsibilities faded away, leaving only the serene image of his husband enjoying a moment of peace in the vibrant garden below.

His cousin gave Namjoon a sideway glance, huffing to himself, and Namjoon didn't have to be a genius to know what the man was thinking. He gave Yoongi another pointed look, because he had no right to silently call Namjoon out on being equally engrossed in work when Yoongi was the most workaholic person he knew. At least Namjoon was realistic about his workload! He usually remembered to take breaks, and neither was he the type of person who tried to do everything on their own instead of delegating the work, it's just that the sheer amount of tasks he had to handle was considerable. This was especially true now that his father had started entrusting more responsibilities to him, leading to speculation among the court that the king might soon be considering passing down the crown soon.

Periods of transition were delicate, so Namjoon had to be extra careful to complete all his work with due diligence. He supposed his husband had the same motivation as well, and would naturally come into his own once he was more settled into Ilsan's high society.

"Aren't those Odeng and Eomuk?" Yoongi asked conversationally, jerking his head towards the two wolves that were playfully wrestling near Seokjin.

Namjoon hummed in response, smiling. "He was so afraid of them at first."

"He's clearly gotten over it," Yoongi snorted. "Not even a flinch at all that growling."

"I'm glad he's gotten used to them. I'd hate to see these adorable babies misunderstood." Namjoon chuckled, stretching his arms. "Mm, I suppose I should get back to work. Anything particular you needed me for?"

Yoongi shook his head, his expression softening. “I just wanted to check in on you. Are you planning to have lunch here as well?”

Namjoon glanced at the remaining work, pondering for a moment. “No,” he finally replied. “I think I’ll be done by then. Should we call Hoseok and eat together?”

"That'd be nice," Yoongi agreed, taking a seat at one of the armchairs and pointedly not mentioning that it was Hoseok who had asked him to stage an intervention in the first place. They sat in comfortable silence while Namjoon worked and Yoongi casually went over some of the documents to aid him best as he could.

"Joon-ah?"

"Mm?"

"I think…Seokjin seems to be the kind that can get used to more things in Ilsan than just the wolves."

The scritching sound of the pen stops.

"You don't know that."

"That’s exactly what the word 'think' implies, yes," Yoongi drawled sarcastically. After a brief pause, he softened his tone, adding, "But neither do you."

Namjoon let out a resigned sigh, taking off his glasses. He didn’t actually need them due to his excellent eyesight– yet another effect of the dragon blood– he enjoyed wearing them. They provided a sense of comfort, almost making him feel more human and approachable. At the very least, they helped to soften the intensity of his reptilian pupils, which could sometimes be off-putting.

"No I don't," he admitted with another sigh. "What I do know, is that there are more creatures in Ilsan that got attached to him too fast than just the wolves."

Yoongi gave him a warning look, and Namjoon hastily corrected himself. "Men. People. I mean people–creatures was just a general term for living beings Yoongi I'm not angsting in the middle of the day–can't you let me sound dramatic and philosophical for one day–"

Yoongi laughed, making Namjoon shut up with a petulant pout. "Where's the fun when you're being all cryptic and shit?"

"You started it!" Namjoon exclaimed, lowering his voice in a poor imitation of Yoongi. "Ooo, Seokjin can get used to more than just the wolves, my ass."

"It was the natural flow of conversation!" Yoongi defended, pale skin traitorously turning pink. "And I don't want to hear that from you of all people!"

Namjoon laughed, though his chuckles faded into a more somber expression as he grew serious. He absently played with the edge of a piece of paper, his gaze drifting downward as he contemplated his thoughts. "Although, while we’re on the subject, there’s something I really need to discuss with you."

"Yes?"

"It's about Seokjin."

Yoongi watched him carefully. "Do you want someone just to listen, or give advice?"

Namjoon hummed. "Both, I suppose. It's just that…"

He trailed off, angling his body toward the window. He stared out for what felt like an eternity, the sunlight glinting off his glasses, making his expression difficult to read. Finally, he let out a deep sigh and turned back to his cousin..

"I’m afraid, Yoongi. I’ve gotten too attached to him. I’m terrified to say the word ‘love’ out loud because I can’t tell if I’m just clinging to dreams and expectations or the idea of what a lover should be. But even more frightening is the possibility that my feelings are genuine and real, and I have to confront that."

Yoongi was quiet for a while as he stared blankly at the papers in front of him, contemplating Namjoon' unique case. He then turned to look his cousin–his brother–in the eye, prompting Namjoon to instinctively straighten his posture.

"What I want to ask is– would you rather show him your affection under the belief that it might be love, or would you distance yourself in case you might be burdening him?"

"And here you bring yet another problem to my table," Namjoon replied, a hint of exasperation in his tone.

"One that you've undoubtedly agonized over," Yoongi pointed out shrewdly, and Namjoon had to concede, not surprised that of course his hyung knows.

"If you're worrying over whether to show your fondness for him or not," Yoongi continued, "Then I suppose your heart has already decided whether you love him or not, hasn't it? That is why you're scared."

Namjoon stayed quiet, his silence confirming it. He opened his mouth, contemplating the right words, only to close it again, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before finally deciding to speak up.

“How likely is it that he’ll leave me once this year comes to an end? I mean, I understand that he’s bound to me now, and there’s really no turning back. Even if he were to run away or try to return to Gwacheon, he would be disgraced,” he elaborated, his voice tinged with uncertainty. He noticed Yoongi’s attempt to interject, but Namjoon raised a hand, signaling him to wait. He was aware that he had gone off topic, but the rant was important to the conclusion.

Namjoon continued, "That's why I've been thinking about talking to him about the several precautions I have put into place and the arrangements made for his comfort in the near future. Because while I've decided on what to do, I'm sure he'd like to know of my decision. It could alleviate some of the apprehensions he must have had regarding the marriage, with conditions as suspicious as not seeing your husband's visage for a year."

He paused here, taking his time to sort through the jumble of thoughts swirling in his mind, trying to determine which of the numerous problems to tackle first.

"But would he think the marriage is already doomed, if I talk like this? I sound defeated when I talk of precautions, would it kill this–whatever this is–before there is even a chance for something to blossom? But then, it all circles back to the question, how likely is it that he'd choose to leave me after the contract is over? Be honest, hyung."

Yoongi hesitated. He hadn't spent much time with Namjoon's husband, and from walways meant it was difficult to get to know him underneath all the politeness and general…. princely-ness.

“I can’t make decisions for someone else, Joon,” Yoongi replied firmly, his voice steady. “Especially not for someone I don’t know well yet. Don't get me wrong, I'm not accusing you of trying to make Seokjin's decisions either– it's your relationship, and I understand that your worries come from a genuine place, especially considering how new this marriage is for both of you.”

Yoongi tapped his finger rhythmically on the table, feeling the weight of uncertainty in the air. He wished more than anything that he could offer Namjoon a solid, iron-clad assurance that he would be loved as much as he truly deserved. Yet, the reality was that ultimately, everything came down to Seokjin's feelings.

"What I do know is," he allowed slowly, sure of this one thing at least– just as Namjoon's own parents had been while putting forward the condition. "Seokjin will be able to find no fault in your nature or your kindness or how you treat him, be it as a friend or a lover."

He met Namjoon's gaze, searching for understanding. "And I think you have decided on how exactly you'd treat him, haven't you?"

Namjoon huffed a laugh, shaking his head in mock despair. "I’m afraid I’m just too overwhelmingly fond of him to hide it, so I didn’t really have as much of a choice as I might’ve liked to think. He’s simply too charming for his own good."

Yoongi couldn’t help but smile at that, a small smirk tugging at his lips. Despite all the concerns weighing on him, it was heartening to see Namjoon so genuinely happy in his relationship with Seokjin.

He cleared his throat, the gravity of the conversation returning. “When the moment arrives, Seokjin will choose what’s best for him. You, have to do what's best for you.”

Namjoon nodded, a warm smile spreading across his face as he bowed his head slightly in agreement.

Yoongi took a deep breath, bracing himself as he pushed away from the confines of the music room, determined to make his way to the knights' training ground. This was a location he typically preferred to avoid, especially after having completed only the bare minimum of self-defense lessons during his youth.

Yoongi was doubtful how competent he'd be against a trained killer, but then again, it wasn't a guarantee that putting in more effort would even make a difference. If he would eat his words in the future, so be it. That's a risk he's willing to take.

In stark contrast to him, though, was Hoseok, who'd taken to the sword instantly and was always enthusiastic about training with it. Now with the addition of Seokjin, Hoseok was over the moon with having someone among his family (because Hoseok was their brother, no matter his blood) to train with. Yoongi couldn't be dragged into the grounds without an unreasonable amount of begging and bribing, and Namjoon was well…Namjoon. It was a bit of a shame, really, since Yoongi knew that his cousin was one of those rare individuals who genuinely enjoyed physical exercise for some unfathomable reason. But he didn't really need to learn weapons in particular considering the man himself was a weapon in itself, and Namjoon being Namjoon, preferred giving his spare time to his duties instead.

(Maybe being a married man would help him relax more, Yoongi could certainly hope.)

Either way, Hoseok was elated to have Seokjin around, who always took up his offers to spar once a week. Yoongi had reluctantly allowed himself to be dragged into the training ground for their very first match, and Hoseok had succeeded in persuading him mainly because Yoongi was curious and, more importantly, he was not required to engage in any actual fighting. Once he had satisfied his curiosity about Kim Seokjin as a swordsman—a very skilled one, was the answer—he promptly turned down all of Hoseok’s subsequent requests to join in the training.

And yet, today he's loitering at the very hallway that he knows the two take to the grounds.

Yoongi plans to accompany them today, but he's not going to suffer through the embarrassment of walking in there voluntarily! He could already hear Hoseok's merry ribbing–

"Hyung! Fancy seeing you here!"

Speak of the devil.

He turned with a polite smile, giving Seokjin a light bow. Hoseok was sporting his classic heart smile, and the eldest looked a little confused but mirrored the polite smile and bow.

"It seems I wasn't paying attention where I had walked to," Yoongi lied, nodding towards their clothes. They had changed out of their formal robes, and were now in just simple shirts and pants. "It seems I stumbled upon your match time."

"It really is a surprise," Hoseok crooned, grabbing hold of his arm. "You're always so careful in avoiding even the shadow of me when you want to, funny that you'd make such a big mistake."

"Indeed," Yoongi agreed smoothly, not rising to the bait.

"Would you like to join us?" Seokjin offered kindly, putting Yoongi out of his misery.

Yoongi scratched his cheek, pretending to consider it and absolutely not meeting Hoseok's amused eyes. "I'm certainly not picking up a sword or doing any of those horrendous sweaty activities…but I suppose I have some spare time to come watch."

"That's wonderful!" Seokjin cheered, Hoseok showing his own enthusiasm by putting his arms under Yoongi's armpits and swinging him around like a ragdoll for a bit.

(Really, were both his brothers dogs in their previous lives?)

They thankfully made their way to the training grounds without much fuss, while Seokjin politely quizzed Yoongi on his childhood lessons on the sword (tiresome), his preferred weapon (the bow), and what he liked to do instead (spend time in the music room).

It wasn't until Yoongi finally found himself comfortably seated on a bench that he let out a frustrated curse under his breath. It struck him then that he had accomplished the exact opposite of what he had intended to do by coming here—namely, to learn more about Namjoon's husband. It was embarrassing that he still didn't know much about the man even after he'd been living here for two entire months, and he sought to rectify that as soon as possible. He might not possess Hoseok's outgoing nature, who seemed to effortlessly make friends wherever he went, but Yoongi didn’t have any aspirations of becoming best buddies with the prince, anyway. What he wanted was simply to get to know him a little better, in a way that felt appropriate for someone who was now considered family.

For the time being, however, the best he could do was quietly observe the match unfolding before him, waiting for the conclusion of their little weekly sparring session. With that in mind, he settled back into his seat, trying to absorb the fight before him. While he couldn’t name any of the fancy techniques that were occasionally showcased during the duel—techniques Namjoon would have effortlessly identified had he been present— or if he just asked the knights captain or any of the guards standing nearby. But Yoongi simply couldn't be bothered all that much to do that. What he could tell was that Seokjin was good, way more than he had expected considering he was holding his own against Hoseok, but he was still losing.

It continued for a while, until finally Hoseok had his sword to Seokjin's throat.

"Yield," Seokjin said, breathless but good-natured, and Hoseok lowered his sword with a triumphant grin. Both of them smiled and shook hands, sweaty and satisfied.

"Yoongi hyung! Thoughts?"

Yoongi blinked, taken aback by having a question directed at him amidst the excitement. "Good game," he replied, his tone rather flat.

"That's it?" Hoseok whined, feigning disappointment. "No praise whatsoever?"

"Come on, Yoongi-ssi," Seokjin chimed in with a playful grin. "The least you could mention is how dashing I looked out there."

Both him and Hoseok turned to stare at him because of the unexpected joke, and the man stammered, flustered. "I-I mean–it was a joke, sorry if it was badly placed."

"Oh no no, be at ease," Yoongi assured him hurriedly. "Hyung." He tacked on.

Seokjin coughed awkwardly, gracing them with a smile. "Thanks. Yoongi-yah."

Yoongi rubbed the back of his neck, looking away. His eyes caught on an approaching figure and he blinked, realizing who it was.

The other two saw and followed his gaze, and Seokjin broke out into a smile at seeing Jimin walk towards them. Yoongi recognised him as the person Seokjin had picked to be his personal valet among the Ilsan nobility, to add to the rest of the retinue of staff that'd accompanied the prince from Gwacheon. Yoongi vaguely knew the Baron by name before as he knew most of the other people in the castle, but not much more than that.

Jimin gave a dazzling smile on reaching and bowed, careful of the tray in his hands. "Your highness! And Lords Min and Jung. I brought some refreshments."

"Thank you! Just what we need!" Seokjin cheered, eagerly grabbing one of the glasses from the tray that Jimin had presented. Yoongi and Hoseok did the same after directing appreciative nods towards Jimin, and Yoongi disregardedbHoseok's teasing of how he didn't even break a sweat and just sat down the whole time with practised ease.

He took a sip of the drink, the refreshing taste being just what Jimin claimed.

"Is this made from Elleorin juice?" He asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Yes my lord," Jimin answered with a small bow. "The trees have started to bear the first of them."

Yoongi made an impressed face. "Huh, I guess it’s already that time of year. These months sure flew by faster than I realized."

"And this year we have a new addition to the family!" Hoseok exclaimed with a bright smile, raising his glass toward Seokjin. Seokjin blushed slightly at the attention but beamed back, lifting his own glass in response.

Yoongi joined in the toast as well, and there was content silence for a few minutes while they sipped their drinks.

"Hmm, I wonder when the lake will thaw," Yoongi mused, his thoughts drifting to the changing season. His comment caught the attention of both Hoseok and Seokjin, prompting them in giving Yoongi their full attention. He elaborated, mostly for Seokjin's benefit. "It's quite a pretty place in the summer, with its clear blue waters. Although it's beautiful in winters too, frozen all solid."

"Oh! Is there—" Seokjin began, his voice filled with enthusiasm, eagerly hopping onto the topic.

Hoseok began laughing suddenly, interrupting whatever Seokjin was about to say. For shame, because the man had seemed rather excited.

"What is it?" He asked with a hint of irritation because Hoseok was still chortling to himself.

"Nothing jjust– Jin hyung just has to smile at Joon and the lake would– the lake would thaw in an instant," Hoseok managed to sputter out in between his laughter.

Yoongi couldn’t help but grin as well, unable to maintain a straight face at the thought of his cousin, so utterly smitten and whipped, that the mere sight of his husband could melt ice.

"Inside joke," he clarified to a confused looking Seokjin. Bless him.

Seokjin cleared his throat, attempting to redirect the conversation. "It sounds like a beautiful place. Are there fish in the lake as well?" he inquired, genuine curiosity evident in his tone.

Yoongi nodded at the question. "Do you wish to go sightseeing? I'm sure arrangements can be made after the ice fully melts."

"That'd be fun!" Hoseok jumped in, convincing an interested Seokjin. Jeez, this man's eyes practically sparkled when he was excited, Yoongi could understand why Namjoon often called his husband cute. Yoongi would have used handsome or beautiful, but "cute" seemed like a solid bet as well. Well, it's Namjoon that spends time with the man daily, not Yoongi.

"We could even rope Namjoon in! It'd be easy too, we would just have to let it slip that Jin hyung wants him to go." Hoseok added with an air akin to that of a fisherman throwing bait to a particularly big catch. And judging by the way Seokjin looked even more interested by the prospect while trying to not let any of it show on his face, it was working.

But the topic was treading into potentially dangerous territory nonetheless, so Yoongi felt compelled to call out a warning.

"Hoba…"

Hoseok gave him a Look, the one that assured that he had everything in control.

Yoongi stared at him even harder, falling just short of outright glaring, but Hoseok reciprocated the look as well.

The silent conversation was all unnecessary though, because Seokjin vocalized the exact misgivings Yoongi was trying to warn Hoseok about.

"That sounds nice…but I'm unsure whether Joo–Namjoon would be able to join?" The older asked, forcing a smile to hide his hesitation. "I'd hate to waste his time if he's busy and well– um– I'm not exactly allowed to see him."

"But only in light, correct?" Hoseok asked, steamrolling on as soon as he received a nod from Seokjin. "That's perfectly fine, we can just do different things during the day–do you like fishing? Oh you do? That's perfect, Yoongi hyung can keep you company–"

"Wait what?"

"–while me and Joon stay on the shore. Trust me, he'd want to collect crabs anyway, you two can go deeper into the water on a boat for fishing. And we can just reconvene at night, I think a nice lakeside vacation would be great, you know? You're newly weds and all–"

Yoongi sighed heavily and buried his face in his hands, unwilling to meet Seokjin's gaze. He could feel the weight of the older man’s eyes darting anxiously between him and Hoseok, but Yoongi didn’t want to confront the bewilderment that lay in Seokjin’s eyes. When Hoseok got like this, the only one who could tone down the excitement was Namjoon's father. Yoongi was not even going to attempt to interrupt.

"You should definitely try bringing it up with Joon!" Hoseok concluded his lengthy, animated speech, punctuating his enthusiasm by clapping his hands together, as if sealing the deal.

Seokjin hesitated, looking like he wanted to voice a concern, but instead, he simply offered a hopeful smile that curved softly across his lips. "I’ll let you know what he says."

Yoongi wondered if the expression was because he thought surely Namjoon would make a sensible decision (unlikely, considering Hoseok's entire job was being sensible and he thought it was a perfectly possible idea), or if it was because of the prospect of a trip with his husband.

(For Namjoon's sale, Yoongi hoped it was the latter.)

"Jo–Namjoon?"

"Aish, hyung, I told you it's okay to call me Joon. Or whatever nickname you want, really."

Seokjin pursed his lips, willing himself to stay quiet and not blurt out something stupid. Namjoon didn't know how much self control it already took him to not call him some ridiculously affectionate nickname. If past Seokjin could have seen him, Seokjin knew he'd have been half shocked and entirely cringed at how embarrassingly, mortifyingly fast Seokjin had fallen for the man. And he didn't even know anything about him!

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Seokjin might not know what Namjoon looked like, but after two months of marriage and daily conversations, he was far from clueless. He knew the important things—the qualities that made Namjoon who he was. He knew how gentle Namjoon was, how his voice was always calm and soothing, how Seokjin could just tell this man's touches would be as soft and careful as his words, how he played the sweetest music and spent too much time praising Seokjin's voice whenever he tried to accompany the music with some singing.

After knowing all that, Seokjin thinks that it isn't that big of a surprise that he managed to fall for such a lovely person– but still, the cynical, politically-minded prince inside him couldn’t shake the doubts. Was it truly wise to let his heart lead him like this? Yet, what was the point in clinging to that kind of denial when he was already married to the man? The thought felt oddly liberating, yet also terrifying. Seokjin decided it was best to just… not think about it.

(Wonderful coping mechanism, truly. It was most definitely going to bite him in the back. Seokjin would like to say he'd cross that bridge when he came to it, but he was also a chronic overthinker, so it was more likely that he'd attempt to avoid thinking about it while spending sleepless nights doing the exact opposite.)

"My dear?" Namjoon prompted, seeing Seokjin lost in thought.

And that was another thing, how his husband has taken to calling him 'my dear' as easy as breathing. He'd asked permission the first time he said it, and Seokjin had been too polite and shy to refuse since he felt it fell in the other's rights as his husband anyway, it was just a nickname– but he just wants to know when exactly would his heart get used to it and cease it's traitorous thumping whenever he heard it. Hello? It was about time?

"Ah," he finally said, shaking off his reverie and forcing himself to focus on whatever he had intended to discuss before Namjoon grew concerned about his wandering thoughts. "I meant to…ask you about something?"

In a typical setting, he would have glanced over at Namjoon to gauge his reaction, to see the slight shifts in expression that spoke volumes without people realising it. But here, enveloped in darkness, he had no choice but to rely on the soft hum that escaped Namjoon’s lips as encouragement to continue.

"Today, I was sparring with Hoseok and Yoongi," Seokjin began, "and they mentioned a large lake nearby that would soon be thawing—"

"Wait," Namjoon interrupted, sounding surprised. "Sparring with Hoseok and Yoongi? Yoongi hyung sparred?"

Seokjin chuckled, realizing he had misspoken. "Oh! No, I mean, me and Hoseok sparred, Yoongi very graciously came to watch us today." Seokjin paused, before deciding to ask anyway. "Is the notion of him using a sword that inconceivable?"

Namjoon burst into laughter, the sound warm and inviting. "Well… it's often a monumental task just to drag Yoongi hyung to the training grounds. It’s not that he’s lazy exactly—let me tell you, he would probably sleep in the music room if you let him. Or if he slept at all in the first place, to be honest. No, he just really detests physical exercise. He always teases me and Hoseok that we could probably live in the training grounds with how much time we spend there."

Seokjin made an understanding noise, mind going to a certain younger brother of his. Jungkook would fit right in here. And Taehyung would ally himself with Yoongi– his brother disliked getting sweaty rather than have any actual dislike of exercising.

"So, about the lake?" Namjoon prompted, sounding sheepish for interrupting.

"I was wondering if…um, if it was okay if I go for a visit?" Seokjin asked shyly.

"Of course!" Namjoon replied enthusiastically. "With the weather warming up, I think you could plan a visit as soon as next month. Would you like me to make arrangements for that, my dear?"

Seokjin’s heart lifted at the assent, a slow smile spreading across his face. "That would be lovely. Would you be free to come with us?" He held his breath, hoping for a positive response.

Namjoon was silent for a while and Seokjin bit his lip anxiously, always thankful to the one good thing about the dark room– the opportunity that it gave him to relax and not be overly conscious of his every expression and posture.

"Hoseok and Yoongi told me it'd be fine," he added, nervous. He went on to explain exactly what Hoseok had said while awkwardly rolling the flowers in his hand– a gift from his husband, as always–, and Namjoon let out a breath at the end of the explanation.

"Are you really sure you want me to come along? If you want a vacation to yourself to unwind, you can tell me. I promise, Yoongi-hyung and Hoseok wouldn't be offended," Namjoon offered, his voice gentle and considerate.

"I– I think it'd be nice to go with everyone?" Seokjin half asked, in case the suggestion was just Namjoon's polite way of telling him to go alone.

Another pause.

"Well then, I'd be happy to accompany you." Namjoon finally said, his tone brightening.

Seokjin couldn’t tell if he was imagining it, but he thought he could hear a smile in Namjoon's voice. He smiled in response, excited and warm to the tip of his toes. It'd be nice, going somewhere with this man that he adored too frightfully, too fast.

("Also, if you don't mind me asking, they mentioned a very curious joke involving you…personally melting the lake?"

Namjoon groaned. "They're never going to let that incident go, are they?")

Chapter Text

The skies were clear, the sun was shining, and Seokjin was in awe over the huge lake that stretched out before him.

"It's…it's gorgeous," he breathed, taking in the clear blue waters rippling in the wind. He wasn't even lying. Gwacheon had its own quaint lakes and meandering rivers and tranquil ponds, but this lake was as beautiful as any of them.

"Mm," Yoongi agreed, coming up to stand beside him. "The lake up North is even prettier–and it's Ilsan's largest– but this is the one owned by the royal family, so you can enjoy your days in peace without worrying about the public eye."

"That's appreciated," Seokjin nodded, a content smile spreading across his face. "I'd love to visit the other one you mentioned some day as well, Ilsan seems to be blessed with nature's bounties."

Yoongi gave him a look as if he knew the amount of shit Seokjin just spoke. Ilsan’s mountains, cold and rugged, couldn’t possibly compare to the rolling hills and vibrant scenery of Seokjin’s homeland. Seokjin couldn't help but laugh at the younger's expression, the unspoken judgement very clear. He wasn't lying though– Ilsan had a charm of its own. Especially the snow back in winters– everyone just treated it as normal, but Seokjin had been constantly in awe watching the flakes fall gently, coating everything in pure white. That's a sight he never got to saw back home.

Still laughing merrily, he muttered an apology to Yoongi, but his attention quickly shifted as Hoseok appeared, walking briskly toward them after having spoken to the guards and servants.

"Hyung! Enjoying the sights so far?" Hoseok called out, his voice bright with enthusiasm.

"Absolutely," Seokjin beamed. "It's beautiful. I was just telling Yoongi that."

Hoseok grinned at him, turning towards Yoongi to clear up some details about their plans. Seokjin let them, content to just take in the view for now. His gaze idly followed the carriages that were being led to the villa nearby, a pang going through him as he thought of his husband that would be in one of them.

Seokjin felt bad for making the man accompany them when he couldn't fully enjoy it and had tried to graciously concede that it was absolutely no trouble and "You don't have to leave your work Namjoon-ah, if you're busy you can arrive later at night". But Namjoon had turned down his concerns, telling Seokjin that he'd like to escort him even if they can't share a carriage.

Hoseok gently inquired whether Seokjin would like to retreat to the villa until the servants had prepared the luncheon by the serene lake shore. Seokjin, suppressing a deep sigh, managed a small, polite smile and gave a quiet nod of agreement.

The lake stretched out in front of him, its tranquil waters glistening under the midday sun, which was warm enough to make the cold winds tolerable. Normally, it would be lovely to have a meal here, but Seokjin knew he would have preferred to eat inside with his husband if he could.

But of course, he couldn't. Not really. They hadn't shared a meal together before. They couldn’t, because he was forbidden from even looking at his own husband. It was an arrangement dictated by the very contract that bound their marriage, an arrangement that made his heart twist every time he was reminded of it.

Funny. When signing the papers, his main concern had been suspicion over what exactly was wrong with the man to warrant such a condition to the marriage. Now, his main concern was the fact that Seokjin was far too enamored with the man that the clause irritated and chafed at him.

"Jimin-ah," Seokjin called out, his voice steady as he addressed the baron who had been dutifully escorting him toward his room.

"Yes, your highness?" Jimin replied, his tone polite and respectful, eyes not straying from his task.

Seokjin tilted his head slightly, a question forming in his mind. "Where is the luncheon being prepared?"

"The kitchens of the villa, your highness," Jimin answered, not letting any confusion show on his face. He was good at his job, Seokjin would admit.

"And I assume," Seokjin continued, his voice casual but with an undercurrent of curiosity, "that my husband will be taking his meal in his room, rather than joining us by the lake shore?"

"I've not had the privilege of knowing his excellency's plans for the meal," Jimin began slowly, choosing his words carefully. "But he will be taking it separate from your highness, yes."

Seokjin nodded, having known as much. An idea began forming in his head, and he was slightly nervous, despite how innocuous it was. He was still a stranger in the villa, still not well-acquainted with the staff, and this was not his family, not his home. He had always prided himself on staying within the lines, on being the model of decorum and obedience– especially since the wedding. His place in this strange new life had been carved out by the rules of his marriage contract, and he had done his best to honor that.

But Kim Seokjin, on a fundamental level, was simply not the type to keep his head down and stick to the rules.

He subtly took in a deep breath, giving Jimin a beatific smile. "Please lead me to the kitchens instead."

"Your highness, his excellency is already waiting by the docks," Jimin announced, his voice calm but firm, carrying a note of urgency.

"Already!?" Seokjin exclaimed, his voice sharp with surprise. He nearly lost his balance as he jolted upright, causing a flurry of motion in the quiet room. He had been sitting in front of the dresser, his attention half-absorbed by the task of having his hair styled. From his calculations, he still had at least half an hour before it was time to meet Namjoon. Or so he had thought.

"Oh dear," he muttered, gathering up his robes. "Is it time already? I did not realize it."

Jimin, ever the composed man-in-waiting, stopped him before he could rush off. "Ah, no, your highness," he said smoothly, as if the alarm had never been raised in the first place. "You still have approximately twenty minutes before the meeting time."

Seokjin furrowed his brows as he sat back down in front of the vanity mirror, the dim light casting soft shadows on his face. His maid, a steady and experienced hand, continued her delicate work in his hair, twisting the strands with precision as she braided the sides and pinned them up with some simple pearls.

"Was there something else that I'm forgetting about?"

Jimin, who had elected to wait by his side, quickly shook his head. A soft, nervous smile played on his lips as he glanced at Seokjin. "No, Your Highness," he replied, but the words seemed to linger with an unspoken hesitation. "If I may... I think His Excellency is just excited." His tone was careful, but the smile that tugged at his lips suggested there was more to it than just a simple observation.

Seokjin paused for a second, the words sinking into him. His eyes, wide and slightly confused, met Jimin’s. The man's words echoed in his mind, each statement carrying a weight that Seokjin hadn’t anticipated. Excited? His heart skipped a beat. Was Namjoon really that eager to spend an evening with him? Was his husband really that endearing that he arrived twenty minutes early to the waiting spot? Were Seokjin's traitorous ears destined to always be red because this man keeps doing sweet things like this?

Seokjin felt a warmth rise in his chest, followed by the predictable flush creeping up his neck to his ears.

"A-ah," Seokjin hedged, looking down at his hands. He sat patiently until his maid was done with the hair, before standing up in a fluid motion. "Well, I suppose I'd be a very bad husband if I kept him waiting."

Jimin looked like he was about to say something about that sentence, but then he saw the smile curving across Seokjin's lips, and the man returned it with a small smile of his own. "I'll guide you out."

Namjoon is standing by the lake shore, and Seokjin couldn't shake the strange sensation that settled in his chest. Aside from their wedding day, this is the most light he has seen his husband in. Granted, Namjoon was still draped in layers of fabric as he always was when in Seokjin's vicinity, but even being converted from head to toe couldn't disguise the striking proportions of his body. Seokjin didn't know what his husband's face looked like, but the rest of his silhouette left nothing to be desired.

Jimin bows and excuses himself, leaving Seokjin to walk the last few steps to the prince.

“You're early,” Namjoon remarked in his usual calm voice, offering the greeting as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Seokjin couldn’t help the soft, melodic laugh that escaped him.

“Isn't that my line?” Seokjin teased.

Namjoon laughed as well, a warm, honeyed sound. "I suppose it is," he replied, his tone softening, "I hope I'm forgiven for making you come out too early, though."

Seokjin grinned, mischief sparkling in his eyes. "I don't know, I think poor Shiyeon might hold a grudge that you didn't give her enough time to doll me up as much as she had planned to."

Namjoon dipped his head, and Seokjin had a feeling he was smiling under the veil. "I'd be careful to sleep with one eye open. Although I don't think she'd mind too much, considering how beautiful you are without even trying."

Seokjin’s smile stretched wider, a blush creeping up his neck at the unexpected compliment. His eyes flickered away for a moment, shy at the praise. "So," he asked after a brief pause, his voice a little more playful, "are we going to do anything else on this fine evening, or are we just going to stand here while you continue to flatter me?"

"It's not flattery if it's true, is it?" Namjoon asked rhetorically, and Seokjin saw his hand twitch the slightest bit, before the man clasped his hands behind his back. "But I can continue praising you on the way as well, so I suppose we shall get going."

Seokjin’s smile deepened, growing warmer, as he noticed the subtle way Namjoon tried to restrain himself from offering his arm for Seokjin to take. He joined Namjoon as they walked side by side to the pier, the air comfortable and the conversation pleasant. He didn't really need to see his face to figure out what Namjoon was thinking, did he? When the younger had body language that expressed all the affection that his face didn't?

(He did wonder though, were Namjoon's smiles as warm as the rest of him?)

His thoughts drifted as they approached the boat docked by the pier, and Seokjin's brow furrowed in confusion when he noticed that there was no one else in sight.

"We're going boating?" Seokjin asked, glancing at Namjoon with a puzzled expression.

"I thought it'd be nice." Namjoon replied, unsure. "If you'd rather do something else though–"

"No no," Seokjin cut in hastily before the man metaphorically curled in on himself. "This sounds wonderful. I just…" He paused, looking around again, his gaze landing on the empty dock. "I was just wondering where the oarsman is?" was?"

Namjoon relaxed at that, answering the question while he gently guided Seokjin to sit in the boat first before he joined the elder. "I'm capable enough for that."

Seokjin found himself torn between his surprise and his internal conflict. The idea of the crown prince himself rowing the boat was almost too absurd to process— Seokjin himself had been lectured too many times by his own parents about maintaining his status. The struggle for an appropriate response to the statement was taken out of his hands, though, when he accidentally looked at Namjoon's arms as the man took up the oars and started rowing.

Oh. He didn't know you could see biceps flexing even underneath an outer robe. But there they were—strong, defined, moving with the effortless grace of someone who had clearly worked hard to hone their body. It was all Seokjin could do not to stare too long, his heart skipping a beat at the unexpected sight.

"I wanted it to be just the two of us," Namjoon confessed, his voice quieter than before, a hint of embarrassment coloring his words as he focused on the task at hand.

Seokjin blinked, his mind still reeling from the image of Namjoon’s arms. He looked up, startled, and for a brief moment, his embarrassment was far greater than Namjoon’s. His husband should run for the hills if he knew of Seokjin's thoughts right now of what he'd have liked to do with this man when it was just the two of them. Seokjin was pretty sure the contract was the only thing holding him back at the moment.

Hell, he really was falling too fast for this man. But then again, he was married to him, after all. Being in love with your husband was only natural, wasn’t it? Even if the order of things had been somewhat… unconventional. Seokjin let out a shaky breath, willing himself to focus on the present moment rather than the whirlpool of thoughts that threatened to pull him under. The night, the quiet boat ride, Namjoon rowing—this was all real, and this moment was his, for better or for worse.

"This is nice," Seokjin said, instead of the thousand other thoughts in his mind. He took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp, night air and reveling in the peace of the lake.

Namjoon just tilted his head in silent agreement, his pleased air obvious even with the veil. They spent a while in comfortable silence as they enjoyed the tranquil evening, with only the soft lapping of the water breaking it.

"The hwajeon were delicious," Namjoon piped up seemingly without reason, and of course the man would know. Seokjin should have expected that.

Seokjin chuckled softly. "I did hear from Hoseok once that you were a sweet tooth. I suppose he was right."

"He was indeed," Namjoon agreed, his voice carrying a quiet warmth. He shifted his gaze away from the peaceful stretch of lake before them, turning instead to face Seokjin fully. "And it was absolutely delightful, of course, to see the flowers in the sweets. It was a thoughtful touch."

Seokjin hid a smile behind his hand. "The chef must know about your love for plants as well, then," he teased gently.

"The chef," and here Namjoon paused, as if hesitant, "Must have a great deal of care for those he cooked for, to have such attention to detail."

Seokjin licked his lips. "...it's hardly attention to detail if the facts are as well known as your love for flowers and sweets. But perhaps the chef might learn more with time, if he’s fortunate enough. With time."

"With time," Namjoon echoed, and Seokjin could hear the smile in his voice. "And I'd love to learn more about this illustrious chef as well, if he'd let me."

Seokjin’s breath caught for a moment, the sincerity in Namjoon’s voice sending a gentle thrill through him. He returned the smile, the warmth between them palpable. It took every ounce of his restraint not to reach out and take Namjoon’s hand, to close the distance between them in that small, tender gesture. "We’re husbands, Joon-ah," Seokjin said, his voice playful but firm. "You hardly need to ask for permission."

"I'm glad to know that," Namjoon laughed. "May I know your views on this current rendezvous?"

"It's lovely," Seokjin replied instantly, sincere. Perhaps he should have said a bit more, used some of the honeyed words that were more suitable to his regal bearing.

But it was a nice night, a gentle wind was blowing, and he was with a man he might come to love, with time.

Lovely, was a wonderfully simple way to describe the way Seokjin's heart felt warm and content.

"I do wish it wasn't so dark though," Seokjin added ruefully. "The moon is beautiful, but I can hardly see much of our surroundings. But I suppose that's for the best considering our contract, isn't i–"

Before Seokjin could finish the thought, he was interrupted by the sharp snap of Namjoon's fingers.

Seokjin blinked, the air around him suddenly crackling with energy. He was about to speak again when his words caught in his throat. In the span of a single heartbeat, the entire lake before them erupted into a breathtaking display of light. Balls of golden light floated gently over the surface of the lake, some of the smaller ones lazily drifting upwards like tiny lanterns. They reflected off the ripples of the water, bathing everything in a stunning golden light. Seokjin stared, utterly transfixed. The sight before him was nothing short of enchanting, like a dream unfolding in front of his eyes. The peaceful shimmer of the water, the soft glow of the lights—it was all so ethereal, so beautiful, that it almost didn’t seem real.

(He didn't see the way the lights were reflected in his eyes too, or the way Namjoon stared at his face with the same mesmerized awe.)

The sight was absolutely gorgeous, and he whirled his head towards Namjoon, lips parted in surprise.

"Is that your magic?" Seokjin asked, breathless.

"It is," Namjoon agreed, and a ball of light appeared in his open hand. It floated away to hover on the water, and before Seokjin's eyes, the lake lit up as even more of the floating lights appeared to join it.

Seokjin didn’t respond right away, his mind still caught in the awe of what he had just witnessed. For a moment, the only sound was the gentle ripple of the water, the soft rustle of the wind. It was as if the world had paused, just for them.

Then he snapped himself out of it, cheeks blushing a pretty pink as he realized that he might just be making a fool out of himself in front of his husband, staring open mouthed at everything like a child.

"I don't think you're supposed to be adding more light," Seokjin teased after he'd composed himself, determined to get back to the conversation. Try as he might though, he still couldn't completely wipe off the awe from his face. Well– his husband would just have to take it as a compliment.

Namjoon laughed. "Well… I can't help it if my magic just happens to go out of control for a moment. I have a history with this lake when it comes to that."

"Mm, and I'm sure everyone will believe that these precisely fine-tuned balls of light are from a loss of control," Seokjin teased, giving a delighted little laugh when one of the tiny ones floated to land on his outstretched finger, rather like a butterfly.

The other shrugged, impish cheekiness written all over the action. "Not to brag, but I'm the expert here. Mostly because I'm the only one who can actually do the magic in…well, the last few centuries."

"That's convenient," Seokjin giggled.

Despite the teasing, however, there was a flicker of genuine curiosity in his eyes. It was hard for him to imagine how the magic Namjoon was demonstrating–so delicate and beautiful–could be considered dangerous or destructive in any way. After all, these glowing lights were so mesmerizing, so captivating, and yet they didn’t seem to fit the stories he had heard. The ancient legends spoke of dragons and power beyond reckoning, tales that painted the magic of the Ilsan royal family’s descendants as something to fear, something uncontrollable. But as Seokjin watched the soft glow in the evening air, he couldn't help but wonder if maybe those stories had been exaggerated over time, or if they were simply misunderstood. For all he knew, it could be a simple exaggeration. Royal families were prone to that when it came to tooting their own horn.

He put such thoughts out of his mind to think on later, resolved to enjoy this rare evening with his husband for now. The little floating lights were captivating, and Seokjin couldn’t help but marvel at the way the entire landscape shimmered with their glow. The lake beneath them seemed to come alive, its surface reflecting the soft radiance, as though the water itself were enchanted. Namjoon set a lazy course around the lake, taking his time and enjoying the quiet serenity of the evening.

But eventually the evening had to end, and it was with great regret that Seokjin stepped onto the shore. The lights gradually disappeared one after another, unlike how suddenly they had appeared. The sun had long since set even before they had started the boat ride, and Seokjin was left blinking until his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the evening once again.

"We should definitely do this again sometime," Seokjin murmured, almost absentmindedly, his words slipping out before he could stop them. He glanced up at Namjoon, a small, hopeful smile playing on his lips as he tried to gauge his reaction.

Namjoon reached out a hand, fingers gently threading through the hair above Seokjin's ear. "Absolutely."

Swept away by the atmosphere and caught up in the magic of it all, Seokjin instinctively brought his hands up, his fingers curling around Namjoon’s gloved ones. It felt natural, as though no words were needed. His fingers brushed against the flower that Namjoon had tucked in his hair just now, a gentle reminder of the intimacy of the moment.

Then he realized what he had done, but it was Namjoon who reacted first, jerking back his hand as if he had been burned. Namjoon’s relaxed demeanor, once so at ease, had evaporated in an instant, replaced by a tense, rigid posture that seemed to bristle with discomfort. Seokjin looked at Namjoon with horrified eyes– this was everything he'd been afraid of. They had already been toeing the edge of the contract just because Seokjin had been selfish and wanted his husband's company on this trip, but this. This was nothing but a clear breach.

"Y–you were not supposed to do this," Namjoon said, flat and closed off. He sounded sharp and cold, though there was an underlying thread of something else–something that sounded like fear. The words cut deep, but more than that, Seokjin hated his voice. Namjoon's voice was not meant to sound like that. Namjoon's voice was warm and deep and always had an undercurrent of cute excitement, not whatever this was. This was a stranger, a voice he barely recognized.

Seokjin’s heart twisted painfully in his chest. "I'm sorry!" he blurted out, his voice frantic as he clamped down on the urge to reach out and take Namjoon’s hands in his. The need to hold him, to feel the warmth of his touch, was overwhelming, but he knew better than to act on it now. The tension in the air was too thick. "I didn’t do it consciously! Please, is there anything I can do to apologize?"

Namjoon looked at him with an air of resignation, and Seokjin dearly wished he could see his face behind the veil. Even if he would have seen hurt in those eyes, or disappointment. He'd have liked to know.

"No," Namjoon murmured, his voice carrying a quiet sorrow. It was less the commanding tone of crown prince Kim Namjoon, and more the familiar, tender tone of beloved husband Kim Namjoon that Seokjin had grown so used to. "No, let's– I– I need some time. I was at fault too. Please don’t shoulder all the blame."

"Namjoo–"

"Please," Namjoon interrupted gently, his voice a whisper as he slowly pulled away from the spot where they had both stood frozen, the tension still hanging heavily in the air. Namjoon turned away, his steps leading him toward the villa in the distance.

Seokjin felt the sudden coldness of the space between them as Namjoon distanced himself. He reached out instinctively, as if he could pull him back, but the words got caught in his throat. "Wait! Namj–"

He stopped himself, biting down hard on his lip. Namjoon had asked for time. He had already crossed a boundary, and he didn’t want to overstep again. The last thing he wanted was to push Namjoon further away by ignoring his request, no matter how much his heart ached to bridge the distance between them. Besides, what was there to talk about now? They were both too emotional, too wrapped up in their own feelings to have a meaningful conversation. Seokjin had already apologized, had already laid bare his regret, and Namjoon had responded with a request for space. That was it. The air was too heavy with unspoken things for any words to make a difference in the moment.

Maybe things would settle with time. Maybe once Namjoon had space to gather himself, they could talk—really talk—about what had happened and what they needed from each other. But for now, Seokjin knew he had to give him the time he asked for, to allow him the distance he needed to process it all. It'd give himself time to formulate a better apology too, one that Namjoon deserved to hear.

With a sigh, Seokjin stood there for a moment, watching Namjoon’s figure fade into the distance.

Chapter Text

Unfortunately for Seokjin, Namjoon was distant the next few days as well. Ever since the night of the incident, his usually dependable companion had become distant– Namjoon didn't show up for their late night conversation that day, which had been expected. But while he understood the need for space, part of him had hoped that things would return to normal once they made it back to the castle. But two days had passed, and nothing had changed.

He sighed deeply, the sound slipping out unnoticed as he bent over his papers in the quiet of the library. It caught Hoseok's attention, who had been buried in his own books across the table.

The man looked up from his books, smiling sympathetically at Seokjin. "Hyung…did something happen with you and Joon?"

Seokjin didn’t immediately answer, his gaze shifting to the papers before him as if they could offer him some escape from the question. “Namjoon didn't tell you?”

Hoseok gave a small shake of his head. “Not a word. But I don’t think he’s been saying much to anyone. Yoongi hyung would know though, I think. I haven't had the time to talk to either of them yet, or at least, not the kind of time that I'd need for a proper conversation. I just barely catch them for a few minutes sometimes, what's with all the work recently."

Seokjin raised an eyebrow at that, jutting his chin towards the stack of paperwork Hoseok had in front of him, silently asking if he had the time for a proper conversation with Seokjin either.

Hoseok gave him a shrug and a sheepish smile, but still looked expectant.

Seokjin exhaled a slow breath, dragging a hand through his hair in frustration. He did want to talk to someone about it, but he didn't want to worry his brothers by sending a letter. And it'd take a while for it to reach them and for him to receive a reply, anyway. “I don’t want to be that person who drags everyone into my problems... but I could use some insight on this. It’s been bothering me too much to just keep it in.”

The younger gave him an encouraging smile, motioning for him to go on.

Seokjin hesitated, glancing down at the papers before him again, as though they could offer him the words he couldn’t quite find. "You remember when the two of us went out on the lake at night? I might have done something stupid."

Hoseok leaned forward slightly but didn't interrupt, his gaze patient as he waited for more. He knew Seokjin would say what he needed to when he was ready.

Seokjin continued, staring down at his hands on his lap. "Namjoon was being as courteous as ever, carefully tucking flowers into my hair with that thoughtful precision of his. He’s always been like that—ridiculously sweet, almost unbearably so, and so observant it’s like he notices every little detail about the world around him." Seokjin's voice wavered for a second, getting swept up by how awful it felt to unintentionally hurt someone who seemed to care so much about him. He mentally shook himself, forcing himself to focus on the conversation at hand instead of getting sidetracked. "It wasn't anything different from usual, but maybe it was the atmosphere, or the location, or something, but I just had to get carried away and hold his hand," Seokjin concluded, despondent. "Well. Not hold, exactly, but close enough."

"And now he's upset. Oh, Namjoon." Hoseok finished, looking upset himself, his expression mirroring the weight of the situation. He didn’t seem angry–not at Seokjin, at least. If anything, his frustration appeared to be directed at the circumstances themselves, as though he wished he could smooth everything over with a wave of his hand. It reminded him a little of his youngest brother, Jungkook, who had always been so sensitive to the emotions of others, absorbing their sadness like a sponge. He idly wondered if Hoseok was the same–if his compassion ran so deep that it physically pained him to see those he cared about in distress.

"Do you need me to talk to Namjoonie?" Hoseok offered, his voice soft but earnest, breaking the silence that had settled between them.

Seokjin considered it, before shaking his head. "I'd seek you out if things got dire, but I think I'll wait for now. I'd talk to him myself, but he asked for some time so…I don't know. I'm trying to be respectful, I suppose. But I was hoping you could help me with one thing."

"Of course," Hoseok agreed immediately, leaning forward in interest.

The prince let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his shoulders relaxing just slightly as his eyes flitted from his hands to meet Hoseok’s gaze. "Can you help me understand why Namjoon got upset?" he asked, his voice soft but tinged with frustration. "I know it’s because I broke the contract, but I just don’t understand why the contract was needed in the first place. What is it that I’m missing?"

Hoseok hesitated, his usual cheerful demeanor faltering for a moment as he weighed his words carefully. He bowed his head slightly, a gesture of apology that seemed almost reflexive. "I’m not sure I’m allowed to tell you, hyung," he admitted, his tone regretful. "As much as I’d like to, this is something best heard from Joon-ah himself. All I can say is that it’s about his… insecurities, if you will."

Seokjin nodded slowly, though the furrow in his brow suggested he was still grappling with the pieces of the puzzle that didn’t quite fit. He offered Hoseok a small, reassuring smile, hoping to ease the guilt that seemed to weigh on the younger man. "It’s fine, Hoseok-ah," he said gently. "You don’t need to feel guilty for not being able to answer. I understand."

The cheerful strategist cracked after around ten minutes of just the rhythmic scratching of pens and turning of pages.

"Hyung," he began, his tone deliberately casual, "what are your plans for the upcoming hunt?"

Seokjin looked up from his book, allowing the new line of conversation. "What hunt?"

Hoseok’s frown deepened, his brows knitting together in concern. "The traditional hunt that happens every year," he explained, his voice tinged with disbelief. "It’s in two weeks, and you haven’t been informed about it? That’s a gross oversight. I’ll talk to the other administrators—this shouldn’t have been missed."

Seokjin gave a sharp nod, setting his book aside as he processed the information. "Please do. I understand it might be because it's tradition, as you said, and they assumed I'd have already known about it. But it's still no excuse."

"Indeed," Hoseok agreed. "But meanwhile, let me fill you in about it. This hunt is a particularly important one, being one of the two hunts in the year that is hosted by the royal family."

"A hunt? In the summer?" Seokjin asked, his curiosity piqued. He tilted his head slightly, his expression one of mild confusion. Hunts were typically held in the winter, when the meat and fur could be put to good use during the colder months, when agriculture was sparse and resources were harder to come by. A summer hunt seemed unusual, even counterintuitive.

Hoseok smirks, the expression a rare one compared to the sunny smiles Seokjin is used to seeing on his face. "We do have a normal hunt in the winters," he explained, "but this one is different. It’s more of a monster subjugation than a traditional hunt. I’m sure you’ve heard how the northern forests and mountains are home to some of the fiercest monsters in the kingdom. This time of year, right before their breeding season, is when they’re most active. It's best to take care of it before they have offsprings, both because we'd have less monsters to deal with and because they get more aggressive when they have young to protect."

"Oh," Seokjin muttered, his eyes widening slightly as he absorbed the information. He filed it away in his mind, making a mental note to learn more about the kingdom’s northern territories and the dangers they held. There was still so much he didn’t know about the land he had married into, but he was grateful to have people like Hoseok around to fill in the gaps. "Am I expected to participate?"

Hoseok looked regretful, shaking his head. "Not in the actual hunt– um, you won't be allowed to, actually. You're a marvelous swordsman, but the monsters are dangerous, and more importantly, you've never been exposed to them before. And you're too precious to risk."

Seokjin's ears went red at the mumbled "Especially to Namjoon," that was most definitely not meant for his ears. He cleared his throat, trying to focus on Hoseok's explanation of the event and not slip into daydreaming about his husband. He cleared his throat, trying to focus on Hoseok’s explanation of the event and not slip into daydreaming about his husband. Because if he did, he’d inevitably remember how he and Namjoon weren’t even on speaking terms right now, and then he’d only make himself sad.

"The first day is mostly a social event," Hoseok was saying, his tone light and conversational, as if he hadn’t noticed Seokjin’s momentary distraction. "It’s where the nobles participate along with their retinue—there’s kind of an interesting story here, actually."

Seokjin made an inquisitive sound at the back of his throat, making Hoseok grin and go off on a tangent about said story.

"So among nobles, it's tradition for the head of the family or their heir to take part in the first day of the hunt. We're all born and bred here, so mostly everyone knows it's their duty and has the appropriate training to deal with the monsters, but even then there's still a risk because you never know what might happen, and unlike knights, the nobles cannot dedicate their entire time to their fighting skills. Namjoonie took it very seriously, and he's been trying to…shift the tradition, for lack of a better word."

"How so?" Seokjin prompted, engrossed.

Hoseok’s grin widened, delighted by Seokjin’s interest. "He knows the nobles would take it as an insult and think Namjoon is challenging his own culture if he suggests that those who don't wish to join the hunt can stay out, so he's trying to go for the narrative that his hands are full and he really needs some capable minds to help with the strategizing and planning of how to pull off a monster extermination with the most success, and has been playing it up as a very prestigious position."

Hoseok paused, giving a little laugh. "Well, it is a prestigious position, but we do need to talk it up more than it is to convince these strength focused people."

"That sounds nice," Seokjin breathed out, unable to put it into words how the whole thing was so Namjoon. He hadn't even known the alpha that long, but he already knew it with certainty that this was very, very him.

Hoseok nodded, his expression softening with pride. "It is. Namjoonie’s always been good at seeing the bigger picture and finding ways to make things work for everyone. It’s one of the things I admire most about him."

For a moment, Seokjin felt a pang of longing, his thoughts drifting back to Namjoon and the distance between them. But he quickly shook it off, focusing instead on the conversation at hand. "So, does it seem to be working? Are the nobles responding well to it?"

Hoseok shrugged, his grin turning a little wry. "It’s a work in progress. Some are on board, especially the older families who see the value in having their heirs involved in strategic planning. Others are more resistant, clinging to the old ways. But Namjoon’s persistent, and he’s got a way of winning people over eventually. It’s just going to take time."

Seokjin nodded, his admiration for Namjoon growing even more. "Well, I hope it works out. It sounds like a step in the right direction."

Hoseok returned his smile, warm and encouraging. "Thanks, hyung. Where was I? Ah, right. So the first day is basically ceremonial, and they return in the evening. The actual expedition starts the next day, and lasts for weeks. It consists of the knights and soldiers, and only the more military oriented households among the nobles."

"What is my duty?" Seokjin asked softly. He had a feeling that it would involve the first day, and he stood corrected.

"You have to accompany Namjoon during his welcome speech on the opening day of the hunt, and on the last day you have to be there to receive the group when they return."

Seokjin nodded. All of it sounded perfectly logical and what he'd more or less expected. From what he knew, the king and queen have been gradually shifting responsibility onto Namjoon so that he could eventually take over the throne, which meant that it fell on Seokjin to carry out his duty as the consort.

"Anything else?"

Hoseok scratched his cheek. "You could always interact with the nobles on the first day. It’s not strictly necessary, but it’d be preferred. After the participants set out into the forest, their spouses or families often mingle in the clearing. It’s pretty much part of the event at this point. We prepare accordingly with seating and drinks at the ready."

Seokjin quickly assured him that he'd be there. While he wasn’t particularly fond of social events—anyone who knew him was well aware of how much of an introvert he was—he was good at faking it. As a prince and the eldest among his brothers, socializing was something he’d been trained to do practically since he could walk. He could handle a few hours of mingling, even if it wasn’t his favorite pastime.

All those trains of thought stopped when Seokjin caught sight of the sly grin spreading across Hoseok's face. He'd seen that particular expression enough times on his own brothers, it always meant that they were scheming something.

I was thinking, hyung," Hoseok began, his tone casual but his eyes gleaming with mischief, "you could use this chance to talk to Namjoonie if you haven’t figured things out by then."

"E-Eh?" Seokjin stuttered, his cheeks flushing pink on their own. "But Joon said—"

"I know, I know," Hoseok interrupted, holding up a hand as if to stop Seokjin’s protests before they could fully form. "But this is where the traditions come in," he stage-whispered conspiratorially. "You’d know of it, considering it’s a popular thing in other kingdoms too. The handkerchiefs."

Seokjin gasped, his eyes widening as he caught on to what Hoseok was alluding to. He wasn’t sure if it was exactly the same in the northern kingdom, but in his homeland, it was a cherished tradition for people to give an embroidered handkerchief to the person they loved, especially if that person was actively taking part in the hunt and the gifter was merely a spectator. It was a small, intimate gesture, one that carried a lot of meaning.

"You mean…" Seokjin trailed off, his voice barely above a whisper as his mind raced with possibilities.

Hoseok nodded, his grin widening. "Exactly. It’s the perfect opportunity to show Namjoon how you feel, even if you’re not on the best terms right now. A handkerchief with your own embroidery—something personal, something heartfelt—could go a long way in bridging that gap. And who knows? It might just be the thing that helps him see how much you care."

"I have to give an embroidered handkerchief to Namjoon?" Seokjin asked weakly.

"You're officially his spouse, so it's something you have to do as part of your duties. No way out. Namjoonie certainly can't fault you for doing your duty now, can he?"

"Bu–but–"

"Now now hyung, you're not going to make an excuse about being bad at embroidery, are you? Praise about your artistic skills is spread far and wide, you know?"

"Stop teasing me!" Seokjin yelled, face aflame. "Gosh, you're becoming as bad as my little brothers."

Hoseok just laughed, picking up his pen again. "Then I suppose I'm doing well at being a brother-in-law."

Namjoon stole yet another glance at his husband. He couldn't help it! Seokjin was practically shining under the summer sun, looking as gorgeous as he did under moonlight.

The man was enchanting, and only the heavens knew how Namjoon had managed to keep himself focused during his speech today instead of getting lost in the familiar scent of lavender oil that Seokjin always wore. The prince had been standing right beside him, close enough that Namjoon could feel the warmth of his presence, yet far enough that the distance between them felt insurmountable.

Seokjin had that effect on him on a good day, but after almost three weeks of barely speaking–nothing more than the barest of pleasantries exchanged between them–Namjoon was going insane. His thoughts seemed to have converged to a single point these days with the centre of it being Seokjin, and now that the speech was over, it was even worse. Without the distraction of his duties, his mind had decided that Kim Seokjin deserved its full attention– Namjoon couldn’t even blame it.

"Jeez, you look like you’re about to eat him up."

Namjoon whipped his head toward Yoongi, who was in the middle of playing with Monie. That didn’t stop him from directing a shit-eating grin at Namjoon, though. And if a wolf could sport a teasing smirk, then Namjoon was sure that was exactly the expression Monie was making.

"Shut up," Namjoon hissed.

Yoongi shrugged, completely unaffected by the glare Namjoon was levelling at him. "Whatever you say, lover boy. I'm not the one being stupid as fuck and being all mopey instead of just talking to him."

"I know I have to at least talk to him about how we won’t be meeting in the nights anymore," Namjoon whined, his voice tinged with frustration. He conveniently avoided mentioning how he’d come to the conclusion that giving Seokjin space was the best decision—how he’d convinced himself that he was saving the older man the trouble of forcing himself to carry out husbandly duties for someone like him. He’d already endured several scoldings from Yoongi and Hoseok about how he was letting his insecurities dictate his choices, and he wasn’t in the mood for another lecture. He could see Yoongi pursing his lips into a thin line, clearly biting back the urge to reprimand him yet again. This was neither the place nor the time for that conversation.

Namjoon sighed, tugging at an errant lock of his hair. "I have to inform mother about it too, and take responsibility in case she gets it in her head that Seokjin must have done something to hurt me, and that’s why I’ve stopped the meetings."

"I’m surprised she hasn’t already summoned you, to be honest," Yoongi remarked, his tone dry but laced with a hint of concern. Namjoon shared the sentiment. His mother was not one to let things slide, especially when it came to matters involving her son and his husband.

Namjoon’s fingers ghosted over the veil covering his face, one he’d been too lazy to push aside. It was only a temporary measure, something he’d be able to remove once he was safely in the forest and away from Seokjin’s sight. But just removing the veil wouldn’t make Namjoon forget why it was necessary in the first place. The weight of his insecurities clung to him like a second skin, no matter how hard he tried to shake them off.

"You know, I still haven’t talked to him about the precautions I mentioned," Namjoon said bitterly, his voice low.

Yoongi glanced at him, his expression softening as he remembered the conversation they’d had in the prince’s study. "Now that you bring it up, I distinctly remember advising you to let Seokjin make his own decisions."

Namjoon sighed, weary. "And I’ve been doing piss poor on that front as well, haven’t I?"

"Just talk to him, Joon-ah," Yoongi implored, sounding just as exhausted from this back and forth.

Namjoon groaned, despite knowing the truth in the words. "It’s not that simple, hyung. I… I don’t even know where to start. I messed up, and now he’s upset, and I don’t know how to fix it."

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, his expression turning grave. "You think he’s upset because you messed up? Or is it because you’ve been avoiding him for weeks instead of just talking it out?"

Namjoon winced at being called out so blatantly. He had been avoiding Seokjin, not because he didn’t care, but because he didn’t know how to face him after everything that had happened. The contract, the misunderstanding, the distance—it all felt like too much to untangle.

"You’re right," Namjoon admitted quietly, his shoulders slumping. "I'm being an idiot."

Yoongi snorted, but there was a hint of sympathy in his eyes. "Yeah, no kidding. But you’re not the first person to be an idiot when it comes to love, and you won’t be the last. But more importantly, you're being an absolute asshole by ignoring your husband like that." Yoongi paused at this point, biting his lip. "I never thought I'd have to take someone else's side over you, Joon-ah, especially because I know how important this is for you, but I can't watch you sabotage yourself and hurt someone you care about in the process. I'm going to be disappointed if you keep this up– more than that, I'm going to be sad, because you'd be the one who'd be the most upset if you don't have Seokjin in your life."

Namjoon glanced back at Seokjin, who was now chatting with a group of nobles, his smile as warm and captivating as ever. The sight made Namjoon’s chest ache with longing. He missed him—missed the easy conversations, the shared laughter, the quiet moments when it felt like the world belonged to just the two of them.

"You’re right," Namjoon said again, more firmly this time. "I need to talk to him. I just… I don’t know how to start."

Yoongi rolled his eyes, but there was a fondness in his expression. "How about you start with ‘I’m sorry’ and go from there? It’s not alchemy, Namjoon-ah. Just be honest with him."

Namjoon wanted to retort that there's nothing he wants more, but the words feel thick and heavy in his mouth. Everytime he gets close to convincing himself that he's doing the wrong thing, that he's letting age old insecurities get the best of him, that those are his problems to deal with and all he's doing by making Seokjin's decision for the man is dragging the older into Namjoon's own problems– he's reminded of the night at the lake.

The memory was seared into his mind, vivid and unrelenting. He had seen the horror that had been so clear in Seokjin’s eyes, the way his expression had shifted from curiosity to something akin to alarm. No doubt Seokjin had felt Namjoon’s scaly skin even through the gloves, and the thought of it made Namjoon’s stomach churn.

Was he really making Seokjin's choices for him, if his husband had made his opinion so clear?

"It's time to mount our horses," Namjoon said instead, putting an end to the topic. Yoongi let him, because he wasn't the one that Namjoon had to talk with, and they both knew that.

Namjoon stole yet another forlorn glance at his endlessly, impossibly lovely husband, forcibly having to tear his gaze away and focus on the groom leading his horse instead lest he does something stupid. Such as approaching Seokjin. He knew he was the one who had asked for space to begin with, but the longer the days stretched between them, the more his worries deepened their claws into him. Talking to the prince seemed to get harder every day.

So maybe Namjoon shouldn’t have been surprised when it was Seokjin who approached him in the end, shyness visible even beneath the regal poise and elegance that the older man carried so effortlessly.

(And maybe, just maybe, Namjoon would allow himself a moment of delusion to think that he was the only one who could pick up on Seokjin’s nervousness, by virtue of having been close enough to him to notice the subtle tells.)

"Namjoon-ah," Seokjin called out softly, his sweet voice cutting through the noise of the bustling clearing. Namjoon immediately stopped his preparations to mount his horse, turning to face his husband. How could one not drop everything when it was Kim Seokjin asking for you?

"Yes, my dear?" Namjoon asked, the familiar nickname rolling off his tongue with practiced ease even as his brain caught up with his own words a second too late and panicked at using such a term of endearment when things were so strained between them.

At least he was not the only one affected, and Namjoon blessed his super human hearing that made it possible for him to catch the hitch in Seokjin's breath.

The older rolled with it with envious grace, bringing out a handkerchief from behind him. "To wish you luck on the hunt," Seokjin explained, averting his eyes.

Oh.

Oh.

Namjoon’s hand reached out mechanically to grab the handkerchief, his fingers brushing against the delicate fabric as he stared dumbly at the embroidery. It was the symbol of the Ilsan royal family, framed by a border of blooming Hellebore flowers—one of the flower species native to Ilsan. Coincidentally, it was also the flower that now reminded Namjoon of his husband every time he saw it. Seokjin had a similar tenacity, blooming beautifully despite the harshness of the snow, resilient and radiant in equal measure.

"Thank you," Namjoon whispered, his voice soft and filled with awe as he watched a faint blush dust Seokjin’s cheeks. For a moment, he forgot himself, his hand unconsciously reaching out to cup Seokjin’s face. But then his eyes fell on the very obvious audience surrounding them—nobles, knights, and servants alike, all watching the exchange with keen interest. Namjoon’s hand faltered, dropping back to his side before it could make contact.

Not that he could touch Seokjin anyway. The prince was dangerous in the way his natural charm seemed to strip away all of Namjoon’s inhibitions, leaving him with a craving so deep that it seemed to physically sear itself into his organs.

Namjoon forced down the feeling with an intensity he seldom even showed on the battlefield. He had already made a mistake once, he couldn't afford to do it again.

His face fell with his hand, a heavy weight settling in his heart as the presence of other people reminded Namjoon why he had gotten the handkerchief in the first place. It's not like they were young people in love, and this was a declaration of affection. They were simply too bound in layers and layers of responsibilities, and this was Seokjin's– a play that Namjoon had started when he had decided to cast Seokjin as the main actor. This wasn’t a tender gesture between two young lovers; it was a performance, a carefully orchestrated display of unity for the benefit of the nobles. Seokjin was simply fulfilling his duty, playing the role that was expected of him.

"Let’s mount," Namjoon called out sharply, turning away from Seokjin and addressing the waiting riders. He swung himself onto his horse in one swift, practiced motion, his movements deliberate and controlled. Still, he couldn’t resist stealing one last glance at his husband. How could anyone pull their eyes away from Kim Seokjin? Namjoon still hadn’t learned the trick, and he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to.

Leaning down as much as he could from atop his horse, Namjoon caught Seokjin’s gaze. The prince looked up at him with those wide, curious eyes, and for a moment, Namjoon felt the world narrow to just the two of them.

"It’s beautiful," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rustle of the crowd. "The embroidery, I mean. I’ll cherish it."

Seokjin’s face brightened at the words, a smile spreading across his features that could have rivaled the moon in its beauty. Namjoon stared, dumbstruck, until Yoongi’s pointed cough forcibly pulled him back to reality.

Straightening in his saddle, Namjoon cleared his throat and raised his voice, commanding the attention of the gathered riders. "Let the hunt begin!"

Namjoon should have known shit was going to go down, because why not?

The hunt had been going surprisingly well for the past few hours, even if Namjoon’s focus had been… less than ideal. His thoughts kept drifting back to Seokjin, who was likely back in the clearing, mingling with the nobles. Namjoon hoped the prince was at least tolerating the socializing, if not outright enjoying himself.

(Though, heavens knew how much of an ordeal such gatherings could be. Seokjin was probably more bored and annoyed than anything else, but Namjoon clung to the hope that he wasn’t entirely miserable.)

Yoongi shot him yet another well-meaning glare, clearly unimpressed with Namjoon’s distracted state. Namjoon responded with a sheepish smile as he took down a bull monster with a sharp flick of concentrated mana. It was fine, really! He knew how serious and risky the hunt was, he wasn’t completely out of it. These were still some of the easier monsters, after all–they hadn’t ventured deep into the forest yet, and they wouldn’t on the first day. Everything was under control.

So, naturally, that was the exact moment when Namjoon felt an awful chill crawl down his spine.

He froze, his instincts screaming at him that something was wrong. His hands moved on their own, dispatching the few remaining bull monsters with practiced efficiency, while Monie pounced on the last one, making quick work of it. Namjoon's squadron of knights and the accompanying nobles fell behind as well, sensing something was wrong.

"Your Highness?" Yoongi prompted, his voice laced with concern as his worried eyes peered out from behind his helmet.

"It feels off," Namjoon said tightly, his tone clipped as he pulled on the reins to turn his horse. His ears picked up a very distinct sound, and Namjoon almost didn't want to concentrate on them, lest it was what he felt it was. "Something’s happening," he said, his voice barely above a whisper but carrying enough weight to put everyone on high alert. "Stay sharp."

The group fell into formation, their movements practiced and precise, but the tension was palpable. Namjoon’s mind raced, trying to anticipate what could have triggered such a reaction. They were still in the safer outskirts of the forest–nothing here should have been capable of causing this level of unease. And yet, the feeling of dread only grew stronger.

Monie let out a low growl, her fur bristling as she positioned herself protectively beside Namjoon.

"Were there any abnormal monster activities recently?" Namjoon asked, his gaze sweeping over the group of nobles and knights accompanying him.

The nobles exchanged uneasy glances before shaking their heads.

"Other than that one errant rock snow bear that was sighted near the Western borders, nothing," Namjoon’s head knight reported. "But House Chan reported it swiftly and took care of it."

Namjoon gave a sharp nod, already aware of the incident. His focus remained on the distant noise—urgent, frantic hooves clattering against the forest floor. Without hesitation, he urged his horse into a gallop, Monie following close behind. "This way," he called out, his voice firm despite the unease gnawing at him.

The group followed without question, their horses thundering through the forest as they closed in on the source of the sound. It wasn’t long before they came across a panicked soldier, his face pale and his breathing ragged as he struggled to control his horse.

"Your highness!" He cried, giving a quick salute. "There is a flock of Civa birds approaching the clearing from the Northwest! We're doing our best to kill them before they get there but–"

Namjoon didn't need to see to know the looks Yoongi and Hoseok were giving him, because he felt the same cold dread in his veins at that moment. Civa birds were dangerous alone, but a flock of them were an entirely different class. It was almost a small mercy that they usually never traveled in more than groups of two or three, but an entire flock?

Seokjin.

Seokjin was in that clearing right now, defenseless even with the retinue of guards around him. There was absolutely no way a small group of knights could handle so many Civa birds.

Hoseok had already stepped forward, demanding a succinct report from the soldier. Namjoon’s grip tightened on the reins as he listened, his knuckles turning white. The birds were closer than he’d hoped, and the knights stationed at the clearing were struggling to hold them off. The situation was dire.

A sense of terror gripped him, cold and unrelenting, as Namjoon kicked his horse into a gallop, the entire party following close behind with the same sense of urgency. The forest blurred around them as they raced toward the clearing, the sound of hooves pounding against the ground echoing in Namjoon’s ears.

His mind was a whirlwind of fear and determination. Seokjin was in danger, and every second counted. Namjoon couldn’t–wouldn’t–let anything happen to him. He couldn't let down Seokjin as a husband. Not again.

"Faster!" Namjoon barked, his voice cutting through the chaos. His horse surged forward, Monie keeping pace beside him, her sharp eyes focused ahead. The clearing wasn’t far now, but it felt like an eternity stretched between them and the people they needed to protect.

Namjoon felt the power surge within him, a raw, untamed force that mixed with the fear, anxiety, and terror coursing through his veins. All of it centered on one thought, one person–Seokjin. If anyone asked him later, he wasn’t sure how he had managed to pull it off. But in that moment, his head was clearer than ever before, his focus razor-sharp and entirely fixed on the one person who mattered most.

They reached the clearing in record time, the sound of chaos reaching them as they drew nearer–shouts, the clash of weapons, and the piercing cries of the Civa birds. A small part of Namjoon noted that Monie had dashed ahead to join the other wolves in fending off the Civa birds, but his attention was entirely consumed by Seokjin who stood in the middle of the chaos, and the massive Civa bird swooping toward him with terrifying speed.

"Everyone. Move back," Namjoon ordered, his voice tight and commanding, cutting through the noise like a blade. The others shot alarmed looks his way at his steely voice but obeyed without hesitation, retreating to safer ground.

He raised his hand, his fingers curling into a fist as he called upon the power that thrummed in his veins. He rarely had reason to use his abilities to such an extent–Ilsan’s good relations with its neighbors meant major battles were rare, and monster subjugations were usually carefully planned and executed without incident. But none of that mattered now. Experience, practice, hesitation– it was all unimportant.

Namjoon willed it, and the skies complied. It was as simple as that.

Several bolts of lightning crash down on the clearing, picking and eliminating the birds with almost divine precision. The Civa birds shrieked as the lightning found its mark, their bodies convulsing before collapsing to the ground, smoking and lifeless. The one that had been diving toward Seokjin was struck mid-air, its massive form crashing to the ground just feet away from him. The wolves wasted no time, pouncing on the fallen creatures to ensure they were truly defeated.

Seokjin stood frozen, his chest heaving as he stared at the carnage around him. His wide eyes flicked from the smoldering remains of the Civa bird in front of him to the knights fanning out to finish off the remaining threats. Slowly, he peeled his eyes away, his gaze lifting to meet Namjoon’s at the edge of the clearing.

Their eyes locked for a moment, and then Seokjin promptly fainted.

Chapter Text

Namjoon sank into the chair beside Seokjin’s bed, a soft sigh escaping him as he was finally granted a moment with the man after the healers had left. He had wanted to be with Seokjin as soon as possible– or more accurately, he hadn't wanted to leave his husband's side at all– but such were the duties of a prince. He couldn't just focus all his attention on one subject, beloved as he may be.

Yoongi had, of course, seen his hesitation and had given him a pointed look, suggesting that Namjoon stay out of the good doctor’s way. "I’ll be here if anything goes wrong," he had said with an assured calm, his words leaving Namjoon no choice but to attend to the Civa birds’ mess, much to his frustration.

Nevertheless, the incident was stabilized for now, so he could take a few minutes to sneak into Seokjin's bedroom.

(Although, did it really count as sneaking if Yoongi had given him a knowing look when he met him outside Seokjin's room to update him of his condition and let it slip that the guards are stationed further away than normal?)

He hungrily drinked in Seokjin's face, having rarely had the chance to see it with so much clarity. Sure, his eyes were so good that he could see near perfectly in the dark as well, but seeing him in stark daylight was different. He frowned to himself at how pale the man looked though, even if the doctor had declared it as just shock and that he'd wake up soon enough. Seokjin was always so warm and lively, the pallor wasn't something that suited him.

He clenched his jaw, feeling an overwhelming sense of frustration. He understood, on some level, that no mission–especially one involving subjugating monsters–could go off without a hitch, and for all his powers, Namjoon certainly wasn't omniscient. But seeing Seokjin like this stirred something in him, a helplessness he wasn’t accustomed to. He hated that he couldn’t protect him from everything, that even his abilities had their limits.

Still, he could logically explain human fallacy to himself all day, but despite all the efforts he had made to regain some semblance of control, Namjoon found no respite in the stillness that surrounded him. The rhythmic sound of Seokjin’s breathing, soft and steady, only served to heighten his own inner turmoil. Namjoon's hand seemingly moved on its own as he placed his hand over Seokjin's cheek, careful not to let his claw-like nails hurt him. He hadn't donned his gloves again after discarding them due to the blood and dirt on them, and the last thing he'd want is for Seokjin to get hurt by his own husband's clumsiness after surviving a flock of monsters.

"I'm sorry it took me a while before I could come visit," he murmured, the words escaping him in a quiet confession even if Seokjin couldn't hear hi–

Namjoon froze when he saw Seokjin's eyes open, his shock making him a second too late to jerk back his hand. A second that Seokjin had capitalized on with astonishing speed for someone who just woke up from unconsciousness, placing his hand over Namjoon's before the man could remove it.

At least Namjoon still had had the foresight to wear the veil.

"How– how do you feel?" Namjoon asked, trying to calm down his hammering heart.

The smile that spread across Seokjin’s face was radiant, his eyes crinkling in that familiar, peaceful way that made Namjoon’s heart ache. Seokjin’s fingers tightened gently around Namjoon’s hand, pulling it closer, pressing his cheek into it as though seeking comfort from the simple touch. "Loved."

Namjoon's brain shut down, and he wondered if Seokjin could hear how fast his heart was beating even. Was it obvious, even without the gift of enhanced hearing, how utterly undone Namjoon was in that moment? Surely he could feel how fast Namjoon's pulse was. After all, his damned hand was still pressed against the prince's soft cheek, tainting the milky skin with its claws and scales.

And Seokjin could undoubtedly see that as well.

Namjoon gulped. "How does it feel?"

Seokjin didn’t need the clarification. He knew exactly what Namjoon meant, and his smile only deepened, lighting up his face in a way that made Namjoon’s heart feel as though it might burst. "Warm. Gentle."

Namjoon made yet another move to remove his hand, but it was half hearted at best in face of Seokjin's overwhelming adoration. "It must feel rough– you're still recovering–"

"Joon-ah, it was just the shock," Seokjin said with some exasperation. "I'm alright other than that! A certain someone made sure of that, hmm?"

Namjoon blushed at that, suddenly glad for the fabric covering his face. "W-well, I did promise I'll protect you," Namjoon said, his faltering voice giving away his bashfulness despite the veil. He coughed, collecting himself before continuing more seriously. "It still shouldn't have gotten that far, the Civa birds getting so close to the camp was a risk of egregious proportions. Hoseok and Yoongi are looking into it right now, so I'll have the report soon. I'm sorry you had to endure that."

Seokjin's smile was soft, almost imperceptible, as he squeezed Namjoon's hand, but it reached his eyes with an affection that Namjoon could never quite get used to. He winced as he felt Seokjin's beautiful fingers brush over the scales, the familiar fear rearing up, that Seokjin would get hurt by one of Namjoon's claws. But Seokjin just hummed, seemingly unaffected despite finding out that his husband has monstrous hands, just like the ones that had attacked him.

"It's not your fault," Seokjin murmured, his voice steady, almost too knowing. "And I'm saying this because I know how much you tend to carry that weight on your shoulders, my dear husband."

Namjoon nodded, trying not to focus on the term of endearment. It'd only remind him of what a failure of a husband he was. "I– I should go," he muttered, the heaviness in his chest making his words fall flat. Disappointment flared up in Seokjin’s eyes on his abrupt departure, and Namjoon hated seeing it. If it were up to him, he'd never let anything other than Seokjin's brand of mischievous joy cross the older's face. "I'm not supposed to be here," he explained, trying to alleviate some of the older's despondence.

Seokjin's lips turned down, but thankfully the prince didn't resist this time as Namjoon gently took his hand out of his grasp.

"Will- will I see you tonight?" Seokjin called out just as he was leaving. The question seemed to hang in the air, laden with hope and an unspoken plea. Namjoon paused, his fingers on the door handle, feeling a pang of guilt at avoiding the older for so long. He glanced back over his shoulder, and for a moment, time seemed to slow.

"There's a new patch of your favourite flowers that bloomed recently. I think you'll like seeing them," Namjoon replied in lieu of an answer, but Seokjin understood anyway. His face lit up, his smile so radiant and full of life that it almost stole Namjoon’s breath. It was a smile of pure joy, a momentary reprieve from the unspoken tension between them.

"I'll be waiting!" Seokjin cheered, gorgeous and beautiful and so patient with Namjoon's idiocy.

Namjoon couldn't help but smile back under his veil. The night would be a long one full of apologies, and an even longer conversation where Namjoon would try to talk to Seokjin just as his brothers have been telling him. He hoped it went well, he hoped he could convey his apologies as well as the man deserved.

But as he stood there, on the verge of leaving, he couldn’t help but wish for one thing above all– that Seokjin would continue to smile at him like that, even after the night was over.

Seokjin tried to pass the time as he waited until he could meet with his husband again, the marks on the candles indicating that there was still almost an hour to go. He had fallen asleep again after Namjoon had left, but he was glad he had woken up again in time. Knowing him, he'd have preferred to let Seokjin rest rather than wake him up just to talk.

Seokjin resisted the un-princely urge to sigh like a lovesick fool, reminding himself of the lessons of his youth about the value of patience in a royal and all that.

They were supposed to be meeting in Seokjin's room today, his in-laws refusing to make him move considering his recent shock. He chuckled to himself, at the thought that somehow, Namjoon's parents were just as protective and prone to worrying as the man himself– well, Namjoon must have gotten it from somewhere, after all. Seokjin didn't know if it was because northerners considered everyone from the plains delicate in general, or if he'd been blessed to be married into a particularly caring family, but he was grateful, all the same.

(It was most likely because they'd hate the risk of alienating a very important kingdom just because they couldn't properly protect the royalty that married into their family, but Seokjin would take what he can get.)

Being lost in his thoughts helped the minutes pass by– before long, the soft rustle of the maids moving about the room drew him back to the present. With practiced grace, they closed the curtains, extinguishing the candles one by one, until the room was swallowed by shadows.

Seokjin, undisturbed, let his eyes drift to the flickering fire that burned steadily in the grand hearth. Its flames were the room's last source of light, casting dancing shadows on the stone walls, the warmth of the fire licking at the cool air that had begun to settle in the corners of the room. The castle was well-heated, and he had plenty of heavy fur shawls and blankets within reach to ward off the chill, so the cold didn't bother him as much as it had when he had first came to Ilsan two months ago. Yet he couldn't help but think of another warmth entirely, the one that lingered in the room where he met Namjoon. He wondered, absentmindedly, if creating that perfect heat, the kind that seemed to fill every inch of a space and settle into the very bones, was something Namjoon could do with the ease of a mere thought. Was it a simple, effortless thing for him, or did it require some form of meticulous, almost delicate control? An even more impressive question– was it both? Was it awfully hard but Namjoon could do it easily?

He resolved to ask the man later. While Seokjin would have usually been cautious of asking such a question as it might be constructed as him probing for Namjoon's weaknesses, he'd come to know that the younger wasn't offended easily. Namjoon always appreciated curiosity, and with how adorably excited he gets when rambling about whatever interesting information he'd come across– his husband would most likely answer Seokjin's questions about his ancestral dragon blood as long as they didn't probe too deeply.

An unbidden smile came into Seokjin's face as he thought of his husband, and his body relaxed as he felt the familiar warmth wash over him, a sensation so distinct and comforting that it could only belong to one person. The maids had excused themselves after extinguishing the fireplace, quick apologies on their lips as they assured Seokjin that his husband would be here soon. And he evidently was, judging by the warmth.

"Are you well?" Was the first sentence that came out of Namjoon's mouth the second he entered through the door.

Seokjin laughed, eyes wrinkling fondly. "Yes, I'm very well. I assure you, I'm not lacking in care."

"That's good," Namjoon breathed out, and Seokjin felt the bed dip slightly indicating that Namjoon had taken a seat next to him. "Hyung–"

"No apologies," Seokjin said instantly, knowing very well that that was Namjoon was going to say next. Judging from the stunned silence, he was right. Or his husband was just shocked at someone having the audacity to interrupt him. But more likely the former option.

"But hyung–" Namjoon began to protest, only to drowned out by Seokjin's loud, exaggerated shushing.

"We're going to address what happened later, but by that I mean me reading through the reports to see what happened and what you did to handle it– both the incident and the cause– and not me having to listen to your misplaced apologies." Seokjin huffed, before smiling. It was a shame Namjoon couldn't see it in the darkness, so instead he tried injecting as much warmth as he could in his voice to show that he wasn't mad. "Unless you want to listen to my gratitude for saving my life, but you've shut down all my attempts so far."

"I'm your husband," Namjoon says simply, as if that explained everything. Seokjin ducks his head, heart bursting with fondness because he supposed it did. Namjoon knew duty and responsibility and obligations intimately, but Seokjin wanted to hope that a part of the protectiveness came from love, as well.

"And…hyung?" Namjoon’s voice faltered, unsure, as if testing the waters.

"Mm?" Seokjin hummed, eyebrows furrowing at the hesitant tone.

"I wanted to talk about something," Namjoon said haltingly. "Only if you're up for it, though," he added quickly, as if trying to retract the weight of his request. "It’s nothing serious or urgent, so please don’t feel like you have to force yourself if you're not feeling up for it."

"Namjoon-ah, I'm fine, really," Seokjin assured, exasperated. "What is it?"

There was a soft cough from the younger man before he spoke again. "Well…" Namjoon trailed off, fumbling for the right words, and Seokjin’s heart softened at his uncertainty. "An apology is in order," Namjoon said firmly, now that he finally settled down on what he wanted to convey. "I’m sorry for ignoring you all these days. It was childish."

Seokjin resisted the urge to cross his arms as he debated on what to say. "It was my fault," he started, "Since I was the one who touched you when I was not supposed to."

"But–"

"Yes," Seokjin agreed easily, knowing what Namjoon was about to argue even before the man said it. "You're right, you do owe me an apology for ignoring me. Thank you. And I'm sorry too."

There was stunned silence, and then Namjoon burst out into laughter– the sound lovely and warm. "Has anyone ever told you you're a gem?" Namjoon asked, voice light with amusement and a complete roundabout from the sombre man just minutes ago.

"Lots of people," Seokjin agreed flippantly with a grin of his own. "Mostly accompanied by extravagant gemstones as well, if you see my proposal letters."

Namjoon hummed, his voice taking on a quiet edge. "The North has quite a few mines," he stated simply. "We may not be blessed with the kind of lush lands other kingdoms boast, but our mined stones–" His voice trailed off as though lost in thought. "Our stones are some of the finest across all the kingdoms."

"If hyung ever desires," Namjoon murmured, his voice deliciously low and intense in the way that made Seokjin want to do things, "You can be draped in the finest of jewels from head to toe. And not a single one of them would compare to your beauty."

Namjoon must have leaned closer at some point, because his hot breath fanned over the shell of Seokjin's ear. Seokjin’s breath caught, his heart stuttering at the weight of Namjoon’s words, the deep, almost possessive tone making his pulse quicken. The atmosphere around them seemed to shift, becoming thick with an unspoken tension that neither of them could deny.

He shivered, hands fisting through the sheets to prevent himself from reaching out to touch Namjoon.

He wouldn't be able to stop himself at just touching.

Instead, he forced the words out, though they trembled as they left his lips. "I’m glad the room is dark," he whispered, the confession fragile, barely audible but laden with vulnerability. His voice wavered, betraying him as his composure slowly unraveled in the presence of Namjoon’s closeness. "You speak too well, Joon-ah. It makes hyung flustered."

Namjoon made a sudden noise, breaking the strange atmosphere. He sounded almost…embarrassed?

"Ah," he began, his tone sheepish, "Is this a bad time to mention that I... have rather exceptional night vision?"

Seokjin blinked. Surely Namjoon couldn't be implying what he thought he was implying. "Excuse me?"

"Yes," Namjoon answered, sounding even more embarrassed if it was possible. To be honest, it should be Seokjin who should be feeling like that considering what Namjoon had just told him.

"Um... I can see really well in the dark," Namjoon continued, his words now stumbling over themselves in a bid to clarify. "But, uh, don’t worry, hyung. I know you’ve probably heard it a thousand times before, but your beauty is every bit as legendary as the poets say it is! In fact, I'd go so far as to say you even surpass all the compliments–"

Seokjin’s mind, still reeling, latched onto the one detail that stood out with jarring quality. He fixed Namjoon with a look– or well, glared in the general direction of where he supposed the man was sitting. "Namjoon-ah," Seokjin began, his voice carefully calm, "Correct me if I’m wrong, but are you implying that you can see everything in this room? With awful clarity?"

"I wouldn't say anything that involves your lovely self would be called awful–"

Seokjin shot him another look.

"–yes," Namjoon admitted instantly. If nothing else, the swiftness of his answer after seeing Seokjin's glare was solid proof of what he said.

"...So you basically saw every time I made an undignified face or loafed around."

"You're cute either way," Namjoon blurted out, before he could realize what he said. He stammered slightly, trying to correct himself. "No I mean– uh, I wanted to say that we're married anyway so isn't it natural for us to see each other in our most natural states? And you've seen what a disaster I am, you hardly have anything to worry about."

Seokjin fought the heat rising in his cheeks, stubbornly pushing aside the tenderness that stirred within him at Namjoon’s spontaneous compliment. The last thing he wanted was to expose himself again, especially now that he knew Namjoon could see well enough to catch every fleeting shift of emotion on his face. Still, the truth lingered, even if it made him uneasy. Namjoon had a point, and it wasn’t lost on him. Marriage, in its truest form, meant accepting each other with all their flaws and imperfections– something Seokjin had yet to fully embrace when it came to showing his more unbecoming sides to Namjoon.

(But then again, this was just a contract marriage, right?)

Seokjin cleared his throat. "You said you had something to tell me?" He asked instead, changing the topic.

"Ah," Namjoon breathed out. "Right, I almost forgot. It's not something I want to bring up so soon after we made up because there's a chance of it being taken the wrong way, but it's something important as well so I'd rather not postpone it any longer? But if you want to wait then I'll wait, hyung."

After that kind of disclaimer, Seokjin didn't want to hear it, but if Namjoon said it was important then he'd trust the man.

"It's fine Joon-ah, I'll keep an open mind."

"Thank you." Namjoon said, pausing for a long time after that. Seokjin let him, content to distract himself with the flowers while Namjoon gathered his words and put his mind into order.

Finally, Namjoon spoke again, coming to a decision.

"Hyung," he called quietly, his voice softer now but carrying an undeniable depth, "Have you thought about what happens after the year is over?"

Goodness. What a loaded question right at the start.

Seokjin paused, contemplating the best way to answer. "...Is there something in particular that I should be thinking of?"

Perhaps," Namjoon sighed, his voice carrying a quiet frustration, as if his unspoken thoughts had finally become too much to hold inside. "Hyung, I've been wondering for some time now why you and your family agreed to this marriage. And I've often found myself questioning what you might be suspecting as the reason behind the particular clause in the contract–the one that forbids you from laying your eyes on me until a year has passed. It’s something that gnaws at me, but as much as I could ask, I won’t waste your time with it."

"Husband–"

"No, hyung," Namjoon cut him off gently, his tone firm but not unkind. "Maybe I'm afraid of what rumors you've heard about me, but whatever ideas you may have had about me before we met... none of that matters anymore. What matters is that you're here now– we're here now– and hopefully, I haven’t made too bad of an impression."

Namjoon chuckled as he said that, but Seokjin still had to stifle the urge to frown. Despite him making it seem as if he was joking, Seokjin didn't like how self deprecating the words sounded.

"You've made more than a good impression, Joon-ah," Seokjin said, the words coming out more earnestly than he meant to. "You're one of the loveliest people I've had the fortune of meeting."

"Such praise adds meaning to my life," Namjoon replied automatically, too fast to be anything but a knee jerk, polite response that had been drilled into both of them since childhood. "I'm glad I could make your time here easier, but hyung, after the year is over– if- if you ever feel that things are not to your…satisfaction, you are free to decide on what you want your future to be like. There are enough failsafes in place to ensure it."

Seokjin cocked his head to the side. "Such as?"

Namjoon took a deep breath. "If you choose to leave, there's a grand estate on the southern borders of Ilsan with your name on it. And enough funds at your disposal as you see fit, of course."

Seokjin didn’t need to ask for further clarification. The gravity of what Namjoon was offering hung in the air between them, thick with implications. But Seokjin did need a moment, a quiet beat, to truly comprehend the weight of this unexpected revelation.

If Seokjin chose to leave– and that was a very big if– he'd have to go back to Gwacheon, naturally. And as someone who left their marriage to return home, it'd obviously be a source of great scorn from society and a shame to the family, no matter how beloved Seokjin was. Namjoon's option was an alternative, a chance to live in peace in case he didn't want to rely on his family. What the prince was offering him wasn’t just a mansion, nor was it merely money– it was a future, an escape, a chance to walk away from everything, if that was his choice.

And it showed, really, that despite how well they got along, they didn't know all that much about each other. Namjoon, for all his careful attentiveness, didn't know that Seokjin would rather go home and brave the scorn and disdain of noble society. Namjoon didn't know that Seokjin was someone who found a strange sort of joy in emerging victorious, in placing everyone who underestimated him firmly in their place no matter the situation. Didn't know that Seokjin loved his brothers to death and if the price of staying with them came at the cost of being exiled in shame, then Seokjin would take it.

It was this realization that, more than anything– even his promise to keep an open mind– softened the edge of Seokjin's instinctive anger at the idea that Namjoon might have thought him to be a partner so vain that he'd take flight at something as shallow as his husband not being handsome enough for it.

Because Seokjin didn't know Namjoon either. He didn’t understand why Namjoon’s insecurities about his appearance ran so deep, why the prince’s family had taken those concerns seriously enough to include such a clause in their agreement. He couldn’t yet grasp the full weight of the anxiety that gnawed at Namjoon, nor the experiences that had shaped him into someone who feared, at the core of his being, that even his own life partner might not withstand the truth of his face. Seokjin hadn’t yet begun to comprehend the depth of the emotional scars Namjoon carried, the past that had etched those fears into his soul.

Yet there were things that Seokjin was already certain of despite it being mere months of knowing Namjoon, and if anyone asked, those parts were the important things. Sure, someone's past was significant, but were they kind in the present? Do they care about you?

Because Namjoon was. Namjoon did. And that's all Seokjin needed to know, really. He knew that Namjoon was endlessly kind and patient, and willing to go further than he needed to uphold his strong sense of duty. It was evident in every action, every gesture. Namjoon must surely have known that Seokjin had his own wealth, his own property–he wasn’t some helpless figure in distress. Yet, it wasn’t the material offer that mattered; it was the meaning behind it. It was a declaration of unwavering support, no matter what Seokjin chose to do.

If Seokjin hadn't already decided that he's in this marriage for life, this would have solidified that decision. Ironic, considering the topic of the conversation.

"Is the place nice?" Seokjin asked curiously, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.

If Namjoon was surprised at the question, he didn't give any indication of it. His voice was steady as he answered , his warm baritone washing over Seokjin. "Not as grand as befitting of you, but it's still lovely. It's warmer since it's on the borders, and surrounded by lovely hills which have gorgeous blooms during the summer. I'm sure you'd love the clear streams as well, and there's a major town not more than half a day's ride away, so you shall not miss out on any luxuries."

Seokjin closed his eyes, imagining it. He could almost picture it– the warmth of the landscape, the soft rustling of leaves, the shimmer of water under the sun. It sounded peaceful, serene– far removed from the complexities of court life. "Sounds beautiful," he whispered.

Namjoon gave a small, wistful smile, as if lost in a thought of his own. He nodded slowly, but there was something bittersweet in his expression, not that Seokjin was aware. “Mm, I hope you’d like it.”

"We should go there on vacation next year," Seokjin added, opening his eyes.

"I– what?" Namjoon sputtered, thrown off balance.

"Vacation," Seokjin repeated, smiling cheekily. He didn't know what face Namjoon was making right now, but it was sure to be an amusing one. "It'd be a waste if the mansion never got any use after all the effort it took to pick it out, no?"

"Hyung–"

"Don’t worry, Joon-ah," Seokjin said, his tone shifting to something more grounded, more serious. "I’ve taken your words to heart and I’m genuinely touched that you’d be so thoughtful. But I need you to know, I’m not going anywhere. As of now, my place is here, by your side."

Namjoon’s gaze softened, but there was still a quiet hesitation within him. After a pause, he spoke, his voice low and thoughtful. "But you can’t predict what might change in the future."

"That's why, I'm glad to have someone who's already taken care of the what-ifs," Seokjin said with a soft, reassuring smile. As embarrassing as it may be that Namjoon could see whatever he was doing, it was still nice to know that Seokjin could at least smile at his husband and know that it reached him, even if he couldn't touch him as he wanted to. "So, about that vacation next year?"

Namjoon was silent for a long moment, and just when Seokjin was beginning to think that maybe he had offended him by making it seem he wasn't taking this seriously enough, his husband laughed. "Of course, dearest. Whatever you want."

Seokjin's smile practically blossomed as he laughed in victory, bright and jubilant.

Chapter Text

Seokjin smiled when he saw the letters in the footsman's hand, the telltale sparkles in the wax seal immediately giving away the identity of the possible sender. Taehyung always liked to use specially mixed wax when sending letters when he could get away with it, and if one of the letters was from Taehyung, the other was most definitely from Jungkook. The thought of hearing from his brothers brought a warmth to his chest, a welcome distraction from the meticulous planning of the upcoming dinner.

He extended his hand to receive them, the servant bowing and walking out of the room after having delivered them.

Seokjin had situated himself in a cozy drawing room attached to his bedchambers that was quickly becoming his favourite part of the castle. (Especially since Namjoon let him decorate it as he pleased– but then again, he doubted his husband would stop him even if Seokjin suddenly declared that he wanted to renovate an entire wing.) It was here that he had been working out the details for the dinner he was supposed to host for dignitaries from another kingdom. Normally, this would be the duty of the mistress of the castle, but his mother-in-law had very graciously passed over the duty to Seokjin for this case, so here he was. Thankfully, she (and the servants as well) were helpful with walking him through how Ilsan in particular typically receives guests. Seokjin already knew the basics from his education as a prince, but the nuances of Ilsan's customs were new to him. Still, he was determined to make a good impression, even if it meant poring over menus, seating arrangements, and diplomatic protocols for hours on end.

But he wouldn't refuse a break, and a letter from his brothers would turn out to be an entertaining one.

He opened Taehyung's first, finding four sheets of papers filled with his familiar round handwriting. The beginning was filled with updates about all the interesting happenings back home–court gossip, new projects Taehyung was working on, and his usual commentary on life in the palace, along with appropriate responses to Seokjin's previous letter, but the latter half of the letter…suspiciously reeked of his brother's scheming.

…and I see you're enjoying married life, hmm? I've received only eleven letters these past six months from you–and that's something we're going to come back to! That's not even two a month! Don't bother wasting space in your next letter explaining to me the logistics of the time that goes into delivering a letter and waiting for replies, I don't want to hear it.

Anyway, I digress, even though it's not like I'm specifically saying something. I was naturally just making a very casual observation. Your Namjoon–and I know already you'd say that he's not yours or something like that so don't waste space writing that either because he is–seems to be the kind of prince they write fairy tales about, or you exaggerate. I don't know what I'd prefer actually, the fact that, according to you, there really exists such a person who's full of wisdom despite being so young and always making just decisions, but also unfailingly kind as a prince and the gentlest of husbands, or the fact that you might be so much in love that you are seeing everything from such heavily rose tinted glasses.

Jungkook thinks it's a combination of both, and I'm inclined to agree with him. Although one wonders exactly how much of that is unbiased, because he seemed to immediately take to him when he met him on the day of the marriage and he would also never pass up a chance to take a dig at you, this gremlin little brother of ours. He's lucky he's the baby of the family.

Also we love you too, being our oldest hyung and all, and of course we care the utmost about your well being and happiness because we're the loveliest brothers anyone can ask for. Naturally, we were worried when you got married because it'd be difficult to cope after being separated from such a warm and loving environment (literally, in terms of the weather) and moving to live far from home with someone that you know nothing about. Keeping that in mind, it's wonderful to know that you seem to be getting closer with your husband and he appears to be a nice person.

Seokjin couldn't take it anymore halfway through the letter, and he put down the letter to open up Jungkook's instead. Taehyung's rambling words seemed incredibly suspicious, and if there was anyone he could trust to get to the heart of the matter quickly, it was Jungkook. His letter was just one sheet, written on both sides, his younger brother being the paragon of brevity.

His eyes quickly skimmed past the first side of the page, and it was at the end of the paper that he found what he was searching for.

…Taehyung hyung must have told you already, but we got curious about your husband and have decided to drop by for a visit. Father gave us permission, but privately we were unsure ̶w̶h̶e̶t̶h̶e̶r̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶'̶d̶ ̶l̶e̶t̶ ̶u̶s̶ ̶c̶o̶m̶e̶ ̶o̶r̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ how close you actually are to your husband so we decided to spare you the anxiety of asking him and sent a letter directly to Namjoon-ssi asking if we could come over.

PS : If you could manage to figure out what was striked out then please pretend you didn't and let us stick to our planned excuse to save ourselves a lecture on the impropriety of our actions. If you couldn't read what was striked out then forget about it and don't try to at all, okay? Thanks.

PS 2 : We're also excited to meet your cool wolves, you have to introduce them to us.

Seokjin was absolutely horrified as he stared at the letter, almost knocking off the ink set on his table in his haste to get up and call for a servant. He had strode halfway across the room in his quest to get someone to deliver a message to Namjoon–because he couldn't barge directly into his husband's office, unfortunately–before he forced himself to stop and think.

What would he have even told his husband? To hand over any letter that he might have received from Gwacheon? Or ask what his feelings were regarding his brothers' abrupt request? And on what grounds was Seokjin even thinking of talking to him, when he himself wasn't sure what he wanted? He knew he'd adore meeting his siblings after half a year of not seeing them, but there was always the anxiousness of any of them, including himself, of being rude or making a faux pas. They're the family of the prince consort, their every move would be scrutinized.

But then again, all of them were educated as princes, they knew how to navigate courtly etiquette and diplomacy. And they were Namjoon's brothers-in-law, so Seokjin was also aware that he might be being overly anxious. Nobles in courts are always scheming and looking for weaknesses, but Seokjin hasn't had any particular enemies so far, and he's relatively well liked by the general populace. He doesn't think he needs to worry excessively about someone poking into finding weaknesses about him.

The simple truth of the matter was, it's just the general embarrassment of letting your lover and family meet.

(Namjoon was not his lover and technically he'd already met his family, but the sentiment still stands.)

The thought of Namjoon interacting with Taehyung and Jungkook–two of the most unpredictable and mischievous people Seokjin knew– filled him with a strange mix of dread and amusement. What if Taehyung said something outrageous? What if Jungkook decided to test Namjoon’s patience with his endless curiosity? What if Namjoon found them… too much?

Seokjin groaned, sinking back into his chair and burying his face in his hands. He was overthinking this, he knew he was. But the idea of his two worlds colliding–his life in Ilsan with Namjoon and his life back home with his brothers–was both exciting and terrifying. He wanted them to meet, to see the people who meant the most to him in one place. But he also couldn’t shake the fear that something would go wrong, that the meeting would be awkward or, worse, disastrous.

Taking a deep breath, Seokjin forced himself to calm down. He needed to approach this rationally. First, he would write back to Taehyung and Jungkook, asking for more details about their visit and their intentions. Then he would find a way to bring it up with Namjoon sometime during the night. He would explain the situation, gauge Namjoon’s reaction, and go from there.

As it turns out, him spending an hour fretting over how to bring it up that night casually was absolutely unnecessary, because it was one of the first things Namjoon talked about.

"Oh, I received a delightful letter from your brothers today!"

Seokjin blinked, caught off guard. "Yes?" he asked weakly, his mind racing. Why on earth was Namjoon so excited about those two gremlins? Taehyung and Jungkook were many things–charming, clever, and endlessly entertaining–but "delightful" wasn’t exactly the first word that came to his mind when thinking of their antics.

"They have lovely penmanship," Namjoon added, his voice warm with amusement. Seokjin imagined he was smiling beneath the veil, though he couldn’t see his husband’s face. The teasing tone was unmistakable, and Seokjin couldn’t help but pout in response, even though he knew Namjoon could see his expression. It was the height of unfairness, really.

"Don’t look like that, I’m sorry," Namjoon laughed, his voice softening. For a fleeting moment, Seokjin wondered if Namjoon would have reached out to pat his cheek in consolation, if circumstances were different. It was a silly thought, but one that lingered nonetheless. Namjoon had no reason not to touch him–after all, they had already argued over this very issue, and Seokjin had even felt his husband’s hand while recovering from the Civa bird incident. But since then, Namjoon had retreated back into his shell, keeping his distance and avoiding physical contact. Shame.

"What did their letter say?" He asked, trying to keep his tone casual.

Namjoon hummed idly, and Seokjin could hear the familiar clanking of the tea set. "I'm sure you know already," he began, still sounding to be in high spirits, "But they asked whether they could come over. In more official sounding words. I hope you don't mind if I say yes?"

Seokjin raised an eyebrow. "And I suppose you have sent the reply back already?"

"Of course not! I won't do that without asking for your input!" Namjoon protested.

Seokjin waited silently.

"Um," Namjoon added after a pause, his tone sheepish, "it’s written and sealed, though. But I wouldn’t have sent it if you’d said no!"

A huff of laughter escaped Seokjin’s lips before he could stop it, and soon he was chuckling outright at the sight of Namjoon flustered and scrambling to explain himself. It was rare to see his husband so off-balance, and Seokjin couldn’t resist enjoying the moment.

"Hey!"

"What, you thought you were the only one who could tease?" Seokjin shot back, his grin widening. "You’re not as smooth as you think you are, Namjoon-ah."

"You're so mean, my dear," Namjoon whined, and Seokjin felt like his husband was having adorably puffy cheeks right now. He really had no clue what even an inch of the man looked like other than his hands, even half a year into the marriage, but he was convinced he had to be cute at the very least. Namjoon's mannerisms were often too puppy-like for the man to not be.

"And here I was so nervous about meeting your family."

Seokjin's attention was caught by that sentence that Namjoon had mumbled under his breath, and he looked in the general direction of the man, bewildered. "Huh?"

Namjoon hesitated, his tone growing more anxious as he continued. "I mean, they're your brothers! We did meet at the wedding, but I didn't do much other than exchange the basic greetings with them before I was swept away to greet other people so it's almost like my first time meeting them and actually having a proper conversation. What if they don't approv–oh no, what if they're already convinced I'm rude and arrogant because I didn't talk to them much at the wedding?"

Seokjin’s hands itched with the urge to reach out and grab Namjoon’s, to physically reassure him that everything would be fine. But the contract–the damned clause–stopped him. Never had he cursed it more than he did in that moment, unable to offer the comfort he so desperately wanted to give. Instead, he took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm and composed.

He took a deep breath. "I promise you Namjoon, they actually think quite highly of you and are very excited to be closer with their one and only brother-in-law. Why, by the end of their visit they might even love you more than they love me."

There was a brief pause, and then Namjoon’s voice perked up, his tone shifting from anxious to hopeful. "So you're letting them visit?" Namjoon asked, sounding more cheerful as he focused on the last sentence of what Seokjin said.

"If I didn't, they'd probably illegally smuggle themselves into the castle," Seokjin joked, laughing merrily. "You better send that letter with haste, or you might need to start checking your imported fruit barrels in case two of them have my brothers instead."

"I'd keep your advice in mind," Namjoon replied, smile in his voice. "I hope you forgive me for not being the most obedient of husbands– I'd have gone to send it now, but you see, I'd loathe to give up the time spent with my dearest."

Seokjin blushed scarlet, coughing to dispel his self consciousness. "W-well, I don't suppose you should be disturbing the messengers this late at night. And it's dangerous to travel in the dark."

"Indeed," Namjoon agreed, chuckling. "It is as you say."

( "Are you sure they'd like me?"

Seokjin huffed, shaking his head fondly at hearing the question for the fourth time ever since he'd sent the reply letter. "Yes, Namjoon, They'll adore you. But," he added, his tone turning playful, "You’d better be prepared. Taehyung is going to ask you a million questions, and Jungkook will probably challenge you to a sparring match. They’re… a lot."

Namjoon chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "I think I can handle it– you have met Hoseok and Yoongi, yes?"

"I think they're the ones handling you, actually," Seokjin pointed out with amusement, because they both baby Namjoon too much. He hasn't actually seen it, but he knows. It's obvious from the way they talk about it.

Namjoon whined at the statement, but didn't refute it. Seokjin grinned to himself, remembering how surprised he had been to discover that Namjoon was the youngest amongst all four of them. Their big baby, really.

"Anyways," Namjoon continued with an embarrassed cough, "It'll be nice to finally get to know them properly. I’ve heard so much about them from you, and I’m looking forward to seeing what they’re really like."

Seokjin smiled, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. Despite his initial worries, he was starting to feel more confident about the visit. Namjoon’s enthusiasm was infectious, and it helped ease some of his own anxieties. "Just remember," he said lightly, "if they start getting too overwhelming, you can always hide behind me. I’ll protect you."

Namjoon laughed again, the sound rich and full. "I’ll hold you to that, my dear." )

Seokjin sank down into his favourite armchair in front of the fireplace in his room, deciding to take a few minutes to put his thoughts together before retiring to his bed. He was lucky Namjoon was so sweet and accommodating for his brothers who had gone about in such an impulsive way–speaking of which, he didn't really talk about Namjoon that much like they claimed, did he? Sure he might have gone into more details about the man in the first few letters to assuage them that he was doing okay and his husband was a decent man, but Seokjin definitely did not…gush like a teenager! He never wrote about the little things his infuriatingly charming husband did for him, just normal anecdotes about daily life in Ilsan! If someone read what his brothers wrote, they'd think Seokjin was swooning like a lovesick maiden.

He wasn't. He definitely wasn't. He was cool and unaffected. Kim Seokjin does not rant and rave about his exceedingly lovely husband in letters to his brothers and open himself up for merciless teasing.

Taehyung and Jungkook just didn't know what was up.

Despite the assurances his lovely husband had given him, Namjoon was still undeniably nervous. Seokjin's brothers had arrived, and other than the perfunctory welcome he had given them as the prince of the country, he hadn't had much to do with them except ensure their comfort. Even then, that too had been mostly left to Seokjin since it was both his duty as the prince consort and he'd also be the person who'd know the tastes of his brother best. Seokjin had been the one to oversee their accommodations, their meals, and their plans for sightseeing, ensuring that everything was tailored to their preferences. Namjoon had only been involved in the most formal aspects of their visit, such as the official welcome banquet, where he had exchanged polite greetings and pleasantries but little else.

This would be the first time he'd be meeting them without anyone or anything else to serve as welcome distractions, and Namjoon had to actually focus to prevent himself from bouncing his leg.

He looked around to distract himself while he waited for the two to arrive, no doubt running late because they were busy catching up with their eldest brother. The room Namjoon had decided upon was one of the more extravagant ones made specifically for meetings, a space designed to impress and intimidate in equal measure. The room was adorned with intricate tapestries depicting the history of Ilsan, polished wooden furniture carved with delicate patterns, and large windows that let in the soft summer light. The grandeur of the room was meant to reflect the dignity of the royal family, and Namjoon couldn’t help but feel a little out of place amidst all the opulence. Even if he talked about the castle as a whole, it was a rather gorgeous place. Ilsan wasn’t the richest of kingdoms–what with being small and situated in the cold North–but they still had enough for the people to live well and for the castle to meet at least the minimum expectations of royalty. The kingdom’s wealth was modest compared to others, but it was enough to maintain a sense of pride and tradition.

He glanced out the window, where the summer sun bathed the castle grounds in golden light. Taehyung and Jungkook had fortunately visited during the warmer months, which meant they didn’t have to deal with the harsh cold of Ilsan’s winters. The snow had melted, and the towns were filled with activity, the people taking advantage of the brief respite from the cold. It was a beautiful time of year, and Namjoon hoped it would leave a good impression on Seokjin’s brothers. The vibrant markets, the bustling streets, the lively chatter, all of it was a stark contrast to the quiet, snow-covered landscape that dominated most of the year. Namjoon loved his country in all seasons (and Yoongi, prone to getting cold easier than the others, would always complain that it's because Namjoon isn't affected by the biting winds during winters), but for someone from the plains, it would have been hard to adjust if they had arrived during the colder months, and a lot of roads would have been closed off as well, depending on the snow. So in that, he was glad they got to see the best of Ilsan by visiting in the summers.

But.

Gwacheon was a hub of prosperity, full of splendor with its lush fields, warm weather, and palaces and nobles each more extravagant than the last. Namjoon loved his people and his country, but compared to Gwacheon, he couldn’t help but wonder if the princes would find Ilsan’s castle austere or uninviting. The thought gnawed at him as he waited for Taehyung and Jungkook to arrive. Ilsan, though beautiful in its own way, was a land of stark contrasts–harsh winters, rugged landscapes, and a simplicity that was the opposite of the opulence of Gwacheon. Namjoon had always taken pride in his kingdom’s resilience and the strength of its people, but now, faced with the prospect of hosting Seokjin’s brothers, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of insecurity.

Oh dear, does Seokjin think that too? Namjoon knows the man seems happy enough here, but in his heart does he still miss home for more reasons than just homesickness? Might Seokjin lack comfort here, something that Namjoon couldn’t perceive but the man’s brothers could? The thought was unsettling, and Namjoon found himself second-guessing everything–from the castle’s modest decor to the simplicity of their daily lives. He wanted Seokjin to feel at home, to feel cherished and comfortable, but what if he had fallen short without even realizing it?

The door cracked open before Namjoon could sink too deeply into his spiral of overthinking, and he smiled gratefully at the manservant who entered. The interruption was a welcome relief, pulling him back to the present moment.

"The princes are here to meet you, your royal highness."

"Please, show them in."

The servant nodded and opened the door wider, welcoming the two princes into the room. Namjoon stood up to greet them, internally marveling how Seokjin's entire family seemed to have beauty running in their blood. The two bowed first, and Namjoon followed, all of them taking their seats once the greetings were exchanged, the atmosphere in the room a mix of polite curiosity and underlying tension.

"It’s really nice to have you both here," Namjoon began with a smile, even if the two couldn’t see it behind the veil that covered his face. The veil was a necessity, but it did add an extra layer of awkwardness to the meeting that was rather inconvenient when Namjoon was trying to make a good impression on his brothers in law. He hoped his tone at least conveyed the warmth he felt, even if his expression remained hidden. "Seokjin hyung is very excited."

The younger prince, Jungkook, squeaked slightly at being addressed, his cheeks flushing as he ducked his head. Taehyung, on the other hand, dipped his head in thanks, every inch the perfect prince. "We’re equally pleased to be here as well," Taehyung replied, his voice smooth and composed. "It’s been too long since we’ve seen our brother, and we’re grateful for the opportunity to visit."

Namjoon nodded, feeling a small flicker of relief at Taehyung’s polite response. "I’m glad to hear that. I hope you’ve found your accommodations comfortable so far. If there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate to let me or the staff know."

"It's a beautiful place!" The younger– Jungkook– added shyly. Namjoon's heart immediately declared him adorable, the resemblance being too strong to Seokjin when he got shy. The way Jungkook’s eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and nervousness, the way he fidgeted slightly with his hands–it was all so reminiscent of Seokjin that Namjoon couldn’t help but feel a surge of affection for the younger prince.

And as the conversation went out, Namjoon found out that Taehyung shared some traits with Seokjin too, and then he had to suppress a huff of laughter. Look at him, seeing Seokjin in everyone. But it was true though– while Jungkook seemed to have gotten all the charming shyness and the sparkling eyes, Taehyung took all the coy teasing and the propensity to find delight in everything. The way Taehyung’s lips curled into a mischievous smile, the way he leaned forward slightly as if he were about to share a secret–it was all so familiar, so endearing, that Namjoon felt his initial nervousness melting away.

By the time they had settled into a comfortable rhythm of conversation, Namjoon was filled with great fondness for both of them, and he knew already that he loved these two as he loved Hoseok and Yoongi.

"Hyung," Jungkook began softly–because naturally Namjoon had requested them both to drop formalities between family – "What do you think of Seokjinnie hyung?"

Namjoon fumbled for a second, not expecting the direct question. And certainly not from Jungkook, from what he could glean of his personality. But then again, Seokjin did love to complain (in fond exasperation, which reminded Namjoon awfully of the exact same tone Yoongi used when ranting about Namjoon himself) about how much of a daredevil his youngest brother was.

His mind raced as he tried to formulate a response. In all honesty, he would have expected something like this from Taehyung–wait, oh no, was he really getting the shovel talk from Seokjin's brothers– but on second thought, Taehyung would have phrased it more subtly.

"Hyung?" Jungkook prompted again after his continuing silence, the slightest of distress leaking onto his face. "I'm sorry if I offend–"

"Oh no, I was just lost in thought! There is no offense, please be at ease." Namjoon assured, waving a hand. A part of him noticed his own gloved hand, sudden fear seizing him. What if they noticed how it looked oddly like claws and thought they'd married their brother off to a monster?

No. He forcibly shook himself out of that spiral before it could take root. This wasn't the time for such thoughts.

"Seokjin is…" Here he paused again, biting his lip. How does one begin to describe Kim Seokjin?

"He's a dream," Namjoon whispered before he could stop himself, the words slipping out with raw honesty. He immediately clamped his mouth shut, heat rising to his cheeks as he realized what he'd just blurted out. That was too much, wasn't it? Too revealing? Too–

His anxious thoughts stuttered to a halt when he finally dared to look at their expressions. Rather than appearing creeped out or uncomfortable, both princes looked... pleased? Taehyung's lips curled into a knowing smirk, while Jungkook's eyes sparkled with something like triumph.

The silence stretched for a beat too long before Taehyung smoothly interjected, "Well, that explains why he's been glowing in his letters." His tone was light, but there was an unmistakable note of satisfaction beneath it.

Jungkook nodded eagerly, his earlier shyness momentarily forgotten. "He writes about you all the time too, you know. We were starting to think–"

A sharp elbow from Taehyung cut him off mid-sentence, but the damage was done. Namjoon felt his pulse quicken at the implication. Seokjin wrote about him? Often? The thought sent a warm flutter through his chest even as his mind raced with questions about what exactly Seokjin might have shared.

Namjoon coughed, trying to start again without embarrassing himself. "He's wonderful, really, anyone can't ask for a better husband. And he's very dutiful when it comes to his responsibilities as a prince as well, he's someone I learn from a lot."

"I'm sure he learns a lot from you too," Taehyung chirped politely, and then added in a more mischievous tone, "Tolerance, being one. Hyung would have kicked us out of the room if we'd asked him the same question."

The image of a flustered Seokjin reacting to such direct questioning made Namjoon laugh genuinely. "I doubt he'd be able to make himself get rid of such charming people," he countered warmly.

Jungkook, who had been listening intently, suddenly piped up, "But you think he's the most charming, right?" His cheeks immediately pinked when both Namjoon and Taehyung turned to look at him. "I mean - thanks. For the compliment. About us being charming," he hastily added, clearly embarrassed.

Namjoon felt a surge of affection for the younger prince's earnestness. He smiled indulgently, deciding against any lecture on propriety or manners. After all, his husband's younger brothers were essentially his own siblings now - even if it was surprising how quickly Jungkook had dropped formalities, despite Namjoon having encouraged it.

"You're not incorrect," Namjoon admitted freely, his voice softening. "But is it wrong for a man to find his husband most lovely and charming?" There was a quiet pride in his tone, an unspoken challenge in his words that seemed to say he wouldn't apologize for his devotion.

Taehyung's smirk deepened at this response, while Jungkook's eyes widened slightly before he broke into a pleased, if slightly shy, smile. "Not at all! In fact, that's what everyone should be like!" Jungkook answered passionately, lips set in an adorable pout. Taehyung echoed the sentiment, although in a more sedated manner.

"You must forgive Jungkook," Taehyung added, light and airy as if he already knew that there was nothing to forgive. Was Namjoon really that obvious in his fondness? "He has developed a particularly enchanted view of romance, not at all helped by him devouring half of our brother's collection of novels after Seokjin-hyung moved to Ilsan."

Namjoon's hand twitched. "Oh? Seokjin hyung likes novels?"

Taehyung's smile turned conspiratorial, the kind of expression that suggested he knew exactly how valuable this tidbit was and was thoroughly enjoying doling it out. "It's a guilty pastime of his," he revealed, leaning forward slightly as if sharing state secrets rather than sibling gossip. "Specifically the romantic type. The more dramatic the declarations of love, the better."

Ah, Namjoon could understand why Taehyung had known there was no need to ask for forgiveness. It was not because he knew Namjoon couldn't be mad at them– although Namjoon was almost certain that the brothers were aware of that little fact as well– but because he knew Namjoon would fall for the trade. Information for information. Namjoon can appreciate a good deal.

"I'll keep that in mind," he replied with carefully cultivated nonchalance, though his fingers still tapped rhythmically against the chair's carved wood. Then, unable to resist probing further: "If I may ask, what are his favorites? I think he'd love to have second copies here as well, since he left them at home." The question was perfectly polite, perfectly reasonable - and perfectly transparent in its true intent.

"Oh! Hyung loves–"

Taehyung tilted his head with enviable grace, the silver threads in his formal robes catching the light. "I'm sure hyung would place orders himself if he wanted more copies," he said smoothly, his tone dripping with innocent reasonableness that didn't fool anyone present. "He's quite experienced at that by now. You needn't trouble yourself stocking them..." A meaningful pause. "Or, say, reading them to discern what kind of partner our brother might favor."

If Namjoon had received anything less than the training to survive in a royal court, he might have blushed at being seen through so accurately.

Instead, he carefully schooled his features into what he hoped was dignified serenity, the slight incline of his head neither confirming nor denying Taehyung's implication. "I'm honored," he began, his voice measured, "That you'd consider me as someone who'd go great lengths to make their marriage a happy one. That's a mark of an honorable man, in my mind. Regarding the books, I'll trust that you know your brother better than me, but if there are other things that you think would make his time in Ilsan more comfortable, do let me know."

The brothers shot him dazzling smiles, and Namjoon knew he must have said the right thing.

"We'll be sure to share any ideas," Taehyung assured him, the earlier teasing replaced by genuine warmth. "Though truth be told, hyung seems happy as he is." The subtle emphasis on happy carried volumes– an acknowledgment of Namjoon's efforts that made his chest tighten unexpectedly. As Seokjin's birth family, their approval meant more to him than he'd care to admit.

"He'd probably love it if his beloved, most wonderful, amazing brothers came over more often though," Jungkook piped up, pulling a genuine laugh out of Namjoon. Seokjin would probably kill him if he heard that Namjoon plans to have these two visit more often, but he knew he'd appreciate seeing his siblings more often under all their general bickering.

"I'm sure that can be arranged," he conceded with twinkling eyes, grinning behind his veil.

Taehyung wasn't even surprised when he and Jungkook walked into Seokjin's bedroom after their meeting with Namjoon, already expecting the smug Cheshire cat smile stretching across his brother's face. The moment they crossed the threshold, Seokjin's smirk widened impossibly further, looking smug. Way too smug. His entire expression radiated such insufferable self-satisfaction that it managed to get on all of Taehyung's nerves, as was his right as the younger sibling.

"So?" Seokjin asked, arching one perfectly sculpted eyebrow with all the attitude of a royal proclamation. The way he lounged against his mountain of pillows, looking for all the world like a particularly pleased cat who'd gotten the cream, only added to Taehyung's urge to knock him down a peg. Can't have your sibling be too full of themself and all.

"He's in love," Jungkook blurted out before Taehyung could tease Seokjin about the sheer amount of confidence he had over his husband. At least it knocked the smug smirk right off Seokjin's face, making Taehyung grin.

(He got a swat to the arm as revenge, but oh, it was so worth it. Jungkook had summarized their conclusions fantastically, his little brother was a certified genius.)

"W-what!?" Seokjin yelped, springing up from his bed with enough force to send several pillows tumbling to the floor. His hands fluttered uselessly in the air before coming to rest on his hips in a poor attempt at regaining some dignity. "What do you mean-"

"Why are you surprised?" Taehyung interrupted smoothly, deciding to answer with a question of his own rather than dignify Seokjin's spluttering with a direct response. His tone carried just enough genuine curiosity to soften the teasing edge as he moved forward, pressing a firm hand against Seokjin's shoulder to push him back onto the mattress before claiming the ornate chair nearby.

Jungkook, ever the opportunist, immediately scrambled onto the bed beside their eldest brother, making himself comfortable before propping his feet up on Seokjin's lap.

"I mean," Taehyung continued,"From the way you write of him…I thought you guys must have already talked about your very obvious romantic feelings for each other."

"That's almost the entire reason why we're here!" Jungkook added eagerly, wriggling his feet and making Seokjin turn towards him with narrowed eyes. "It's so rare in arranged marriages - and it's especially unexpected because you were so annoyed by all your other proposals - that we totally couldn't believe your letters! You were practically singing his praises every other line!"

Seokjin's mouth opened and closed several times, his fingers absently beginning to massage Jungkook's feet in what was clearly an automatic older brother reflex, despite his current turmoil. "I don't- My letters aren't- That's not-" Each aborted sentence made Jungkook grin wider, delighted at having front row seats to this rare display of Seokjin at a complete loss for words.

Taehyung leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand, his eyes glittering with mischief. "Oh please, hyung. You do realize normal people don't write three full pages about how their spouse feels so strong and reliable?"

The flush that spread across Seokjin's face could have heated the entire west wing of the castle. "I was being thorough in my descriptions!" he protested weakly, his fingers tightening momentarily around Jungkook's foot in a way that made the younger yelp. "And- And anyway, even if that were true, you can't just say he's in love based on one conversation!"

Jungkook and Taehyung exchanged a look that spoke volumes before simultaneously bursting into laughter. "Hyung," Jungkook managed between giggles, "he called you 'a dream' within five minutes of us asking about you. Like, full-on wistful sigh and everything."

"And then spent the next hour finding ways to casually bring you up in conversation," Taehyung added, counting off on his fingers. "Asked about your favorite foods, your sleep habits, whether you'd mentioned missing anything from home…although I suppose at this point you'd miss Namjoon more than you'd miss us."

"...I'm going to ignore that," Seokjin began, also ignoring the affronted squawks the statement drew from the two of them. "But you still haven't explained how you even remotely arrived at the conclusion that my husband is somehow in love with me. I suppose it's an easy enough mistake to make because of the way he speaks and acts, but as someone who has more knowledge of Namjoon than you, let me tell you that Namjoon simply speaks fondly of everything because that's just the kind of sweet man that he is. It doesn't mean he's irrevocably and unquestionably in love with me."

"He asks us to explain and then answers it himself," Jungkook piped up dryly.

"And manages to exaggerate our statement on top of that," Taehyung snorted. "Hyung, are you sure you haven't already agonized over your husband's feelings for you before? Because it sounds like you have."

"I have not," Seokjin huffed, looking away. Which is Seokjin-speech for 'I totally have'. Taehyung knows, he's been translating for over two decades now.

"Even if you haven't," Taehyung began, because he did not want to spend fifteen minutes arguing with his brother about his true feelings to ultimately lose anyway. "Even if you're fully secure in your relationship exactly as it is right now..." He paused dramatically, fixing Seokjin with a look that said they both knew better. "Allow us to inform you that your husband has very... husband-ly feelings toward you."

Seokjin looked at him as if he was stupid. "Of course he does, Namjoon wouldn't be anything less than dutiful."

"He means romantic!" Jungkook interrupted them, tired of their back and forth. "He gets you flowers everyday! You're literally wearing them in your hair right now!"

Seokjin's hand unconsciously went up to touch the delicate lavender flowers adorning his midnight black hair, and Taehyung made an exaggerated grossed out face at the soft, loving smile on Seokjin's face. Jungkook just sighed wistfully, like the diehard romantic that he was.

"What do you think he looks like?"

"Huh?" Seokjin blinked at the non sequitur, staring at Jungkook. His brother just shrugged, curious kid that he was.

Seokjin exhaled sharply through his nose, idly smoothing down a wrinkle on a pillow case as he considered the question. "Well..." he began slowly, his voice taking on that particular thoughtful tone he always used when trying to articulate something difficult. "He's tall, around my height, and he's…large?" The last word came out uncertain, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to describe what he meant.

"Ooo–" His brothers immediately chimed in, voice dripping with suggestive implications.

"Not in that way!" Seokjin yelled, face red. Taehyung and Jungkook dissolved into snickers, their laughter growing louder and more obnoxious when Seokjin launched into a familiar rant about how they were never going to mature, his hands waving emphatically as he listed all the ways they were still just as insufferable as when they were children.

"Anyway," Seokjin said loudly, trying to get the conversation back on track, "As I was saying, his body seems large–" He paused, realizing how that sounded, and quickly amended, "Structurally, I mean! It's kind of hard to tell because my memories of the wedding was fuzzy and anyway he's always swathed in all those layers whenever I see him in normal lighting. But I feel that he's big–

"Mmm feeling your hubby has a big d–"

"I can and will kick you both out of this room."

"No you can't," Taehyung retorted, flashing a beatific smile at Seokjin.

Jungkook nodded, adding his own two cents. "We'll just go and complain to Joon hyung."

"Oh so he's Joon hyung now?" Seokjin asked skeptically.

Jungkook grinned, unrepentant. "He loves us, he's a hundred percent Joon hyung now," he declared, as if it was an irrefutable fact.

I simply cannot believe this absolute betrayal," Seokjin declared dramatically, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead like a wronged heroine in one of those terrible romance novels he adored. "A mere couple of hours in my husband's company and he's already abandoned me for you two gremlins. This is unconscionable. I shall never emotionally recover from this treachery. My fragile heart may never mend from this grievous wound–"

"We're just that wonderful," Jungkook piped up without an ounce of guilt, the unrepentant brat that he was. Honestly, Taehyung could admire that level of shamelessness– it took real dedication to be this incorrigible. By this point the youngest prince was sprawled across Seokjin's bed like he owned it, grinning up at his flushed older brother with the smug satisfaction of someone who knew exactly how to push all his buttons. "Anyway, back to what you were saying about Mister Tall and Sexy? Don't leave us hanging, hyung."

"Don't be rude Jungkookie," Taehyung teased, ignoring Seokjin's embarrassed squawk that he had said no such thing. "That's His Royal Highness Tall and Sexy to you."

"Where are you guys even getting sexy from?" Seokjin asked, exasperated. For that, he got a most impressive 'are you stupid' look from Jungkook. Taehyung hastily spoke up, before Jungkook could undoubtedly start a piece on how the man had "crazy big dick energy".

(They really needed to stop Jungkook from hanging out with the soldiers, where did he even pick up this kind of crass language? Certainly not from Seokjin's very secret stash of questionable literature.)

((Namjoon certainly was big though. Seokjin didn't know about down there, but Namjoon was just large and huge and he might have fantasized about his big husband pinning him down– something he wouldn't share with these two even under the pain of death.))

"I mean, have you heard this man talk?" Jungkook was saying passionately, trying to justify himself. "That voice? That stupidly perfect cadence? You can't stand there with a straight face and tell me that's not sexy, come on now."

They peered at their eldest brother, expecting to see a hilariously affronted reaction, but contrary to their belief, Seokjin lit up in delight and ruffled both their heads.

"Oh wow, I suppose you guys are my brothers after all, huh? Sometimes you show good taste!"

"What do you mean sometimes? Excuse me–"

Seokjin ignored the protest, too busy glowing with giddy excitement at the prospect of gushing about his husband. "He talks so well, right? And don't tell anyone, but you know, he's kind of like a big puppy half the time? All clumsy and earnest."

If anyone had dared suggest such a thing to Taehyung before this visit, he'd have given them the most incredulous look imaginable. From afar, the Crown Prince of Ilsan had always seemed more like a fierce wolfhound–all quiet intensity and imposing presence beneath those layers of fabric. But now, after seeing the way Namjoon's eyes softened when Seokjin entered a room, or how he fumbled over his words when flustered... Well. Taehyung couldn't help but wholeheartedly agree.

"He's cute like that," Taehyung admitted, making Seokjin beam at him.

"Right?" Seokjin agreed, practically vibrating with happiness. "He's the sweetest. I can't believe I was so nervous for my wedding and whether he'd turn out to be cruel because rumors can be misleading."

Taehyung didn't say anything about the massive risk Seokjin had taken in marrying Namjoon when he had known absolutely nothing about the prince because even the best informats had failed in gathering anything more than the barest of information. His older brother would have already gone through all the worries that had plagued Taehyung's mind and more, there was no need to bring it up. Especially now that he was assured that it had all turned out well.

It was Jungkook who said what Taehyung wanted to, throwing his arms around the oldest and rubbing his cheek against his hair. No doubt a plan to mess up his hair while pretending to be affectionate– and judging by Seokjin's tolerant (yet fond) sigh, the older knew it too.

"I'm glad you're happy here," Jungkook said softly.

Seokjin grinned, hugging back. He beckoned Taehyung to join them, and Taehyung hardly ever needed a second invitation.

They had achieved what they had come to do– make sure Seokjin was faring well, but they'd still hate to leave when the scheduled time comes, two weeks later.Better to soak up every possible moment of this–the warmth, the laughter, the comfortable familiarity of sibling closeness–while they still could. There would be time enough for goodbyes later. For now, he'd be content with hugs and cuddles.

Chapter Text

Seokjin stood before the full-length mirror, his sharp gaze critically tracing every line of his appearance. He turned slightly, examining the drape of his silk robes from every angle, the embroidery catching the candlelight as he moved. A slow exhale of satisfaction escaped his lips when he found no glaring mistakes in his ensemble - no crooked seams, no loose threads, not a single ornament out of place in his carefully styled hair.

He knew he looked good– the endless parade of suitors who had once vied for his hand across three kingdoms had gone a long way in cementing that particular truth - but tonight, looking good was secondary to the far more important matter of absolute perfection. Not a single fold out of place, not one jewel improperly arranged. Every element must be flawless.

This wasn't his first public appearance as Namjoon's consort, of course. There had been the wedding, the formal introductions to court, the various state functions where he'd stood dutifully at his husband's side. But it was his first time hosting something on his own, and it was here that his mettle would truly be judged.

That still didn't mean he wouldn't take a minute to admire how stunning he looked in powder blue and white, with the diamonds Namjoon got him twinkling under the lights. Especially the hair ornament of tiny flowers with seemingly delicate petals made of gorgeous stained glass in blue with diamonds at their centres that Namjoon had gifted him solely to match with his robes for the day, and if Seokjin wasn't one spoiled husband, he didn't know who was.

(His in-laws and husband seem determined to follow through with their apparent aim of draping Seokjin in fine jewels from head to toe–what with the amount of gifts waiting for him this morning–but Seokjin had put his foot down and selected only a few. He didn't want to come off as vain and materialistic to the people watching.)

Thinking about his husband made him pout to himself, but there's nothing he can do about it. It doesn't matter– he'd just have to bear through it. The year would pass quickly enough, and then... then they'd have a lifetime of balls to attend together, endless opportunities to dance in each other's arms without any constraints.

"Have the guests begun to arrive?" He asked aloud to his valet. His attendants took it as their cue to stop fussing over the final adjustments to his robes, stepping back with practiced bows.

Jimin hovered at his elbow. "The first carriages arrived nearly half an hour ago, Your Highness," he reported. "It would be most appropriate for you to make your entrance in about fifteen minutes." A knowing glint appeared in the valet's eyes. "Allow the anticipation to build."

Seokjin shot him a brilliant grin, some of his earlier tension melting away at the familiar banter. "Fashionably late, am I right?" he quipped, rolling his shoulders back in a subtle stretch.

His valet returned it with a small smile. "Indeed. You are, of course, the main attraction of the night."

Seokjin gave a small laugh that echoed pleasantly through the antechamber, taking the compliment in stride instead of pretending to be humble. Jimin was correct, after all. On paper it might just be one of the few annual balls hosted by the royal family– and that alone was already a major event, because Ilsan didn't have many balls or parties– but he was aware the nobles would be waiting to eat him up today. The entire court would be watching him tonight with hawk-like intensity, waiting to see how the foreign prince conducted himself when the spotlight shone brightest.

His last major appearance had been during the summer hunt months prior, but that was hardly as rife with politics as tonight would be.

He still can't believe the queen had passed over the responsibility of hosting such an important ball to him that soon. Seokjin had thought the first year was some sort of probation period and there's still time until he'd be able to take over the more important roles of being a consort, but it appeared that the only limit that has been placed on him was about loving his husband to the full extent.

The thought drew a sardonic huff of laughter from his lips as he allowed Jimin to guide him through the vaulted hallways, their footsteps muffled by the plush runner carpets. His valet shot him a questioning glance, but Seokjin merely shook his head– some thoughts were best kept private.

Seokjin paused outside the door to the ballroom, taking a moment to compose himself and hold himself with the dignity he was expected to exude. He had never been fond of the powerplay that took place in balls, but despite his distaste, he was good at it. He would not embarrass Gwacheon or his new family.

He took a step forward, the guards opening the doors.

"Entering, his Royal highness, Prince Consort Kim Seokjin!"

Seokjin exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders finally easing as he stepped onto the deserted balcony. The crisp night air was a welcome reprieve after two relentless hours of playing the perfect host. He leaned against the ornate stone railing, letting the cool breeze soothe his flushed cheeks as he gazed out over the moonlit gardens below. The prince sighed to himself, glad to have a moment of peace before he had to throw himself back into mingling. It's not that it was as tiring as he had experienced back home, because Gwacheon's balls were…something else. Endlessly opulent and impossibly extravagant, full of music and dancing and more veiled insults and poisonous words than jewels on a lady's necklace. Navigating those balls was a skill honed to precision, both on the dance floor and in conversation.

This ball was tamer in comparison, the atmosphere something more intimate because of the smaller ballroom and more muted decorations. Seokjin was proud of his design choices, because while he adored how glamorous the Gwacheon balls were, the quiet elegance suited Ilsan more.

(And if it reminded him of Namjoon, then well, that was for him to know.)

A faint smile touched Seokjin's lips as he reflected on the evening so far. Despite the inevitable whispers about his veiled husband– the usual crude speculation about the supposed vanity of "valley folk" such as Seokjin– the overall atmosphere had been surprisingly pleasant. The nobles here were certainly more forthright than their Gwacheon counterparts. Where back home a slight might be delivered in honeyed tones over three courses of dinner, here they at least had the decency to be blunt about their prejudices. And of course, there was the fact that Seokjin is the prince consort. There were few who would dare say anything where he could overhear.

Not that Seokjin minded the gossiping as much as he usually would, back at home. He was almost positive that the barbs were borne out of how universally well liked Namjoon seemed to be in his country, and rather than demean him for hiding his appearance, it was targeted more at Seokjin being the reason why the man had to do so. Seokjin was sure Namjoon would have minded if he had heard it, but Seokjin couldn't bring himself to be mad at actions that were in defense of his husband. He knows very well that it's not even because of affection despite what he likes to say– there's no way someone can be liked by everyone, and opposing factions always exist in politics– but he doesn't care what it is as long as it keeps Namjoon in power and well supported. Respect, perhaps. Fear, more likely, from the snippets he had pieced together about Namjoon's childhood and the vague ideas about his appearance.

He'd need to work on the latter– both for Namjoon's self esteem and social life, and for his literal life because Seokjin knows how fear builds up until it boils over into a rebellion. Years of courtly experience had taught him how fear, left to fester unchecked, could curdle into something far more dangerous. Whispers in shadowed corners today might become torches and pitchforks tomorrow if allowed to simmer too long.

Yet he couldn't rush this transformation. Like the gradual thaw of Ilsan's cold winter, change would come in its own time. His approach tonight had been measured– dropping carefully crafted anecdotes between dances, weaving gentle praises into seemingly casual conversations, letting his own obvious affection for Namjoon serve as a quiet rebuttal to every veiled insult.

A particularly egregious comment from one of the Lords earlier came to mind– a prodding comment about Namjoon's absence from the ball tonight, and how the Prince and Prince Consort didn't seem to be spending much time together in public, he had heard. And then he had the gall to follow it up with a remark about how that'd maybe for the best, considering how Seokjin's spouse was perhaps not fully…human. Seokjin's responding smile had been as pleasant and mild as any of them other smiles while he had commented on how Ilsan had certainly exposed him to new and astonishing experiences, such as the presence of monsters being so real and close compared to the safety of the plains, and how relieving it was know that Ilsan's protection of the borders were as fierce and strong as the bards say, becoming the Northern frontline of the entire empire.

The man had paled and agreed weakly, clearly receiving Seokjin's reminder of who exactly was the reason behind Ilsan's strength and protection. Nevertheless, Seokjin doesn't mean to diminish the efforts and sacrifices of the soldiers and the centuries of knowledge painstakingly gathered. Ilsan had been a barrier for centuries, and Seokjin had no doubt it will continue to be so even as rulers come and go. But the Lord had made a dig at Seokjin's husband, and it was simply Seokjin's duty to retaliate in kind.

Seokjin has almost always danced at balls, but for all intents and purposes, this was the dance he'd perfected over years in Gwacheon's cutthroat courts– the art of dismantling prejudice with honey rather than vinegar. Every shared story about Namjoon's kindness, every subtle correction to misconceptions, was another stone laid in the foundation of understanding. The work was painstaking, but Seokjin had never shied from a challenge. But the work of slowly chipping away at people's fear is going at the best pace it can, nothing can be done by being impatient.

Speaking of which, Seokjin was quite sure the aforementioned prince was nearby. The balcony had been feeling rather hot, which it had no business of doing considering what month it was.

Even more obvious than that was the music– Seokjin would have to deaf to not recognise the Gayageum that Namjoon played for him occasionally in the night.

It wasn't improbable for Namjoon to be here, per se. Unlike Gwacheon's sprawling palace complex with its dedicated ballroom annex, Ilsan's castle was designed with practical efficiency in mind. The so-called "ballroom" was really just the great hall, serving multiple purposes throughout the year– as Yoongi had mentioned once. More often than not, it hosted feasts and celebrations rather than formal dances.

Considering that Namjoon's office and the palace library– which was a particularly favourite haunt of the man– were in the same building as well, it was perfectly ordinary for Namjoon, as the crown prince, to stop by to see how things were going. Even if he had personally nothing to do with it– the king and queen had already made an obligatory appearance and left after half an hour.

All perfectly natural. Entirely justifiable.

Yet Seokjin wasn't stupid, and he'd be an idiot in denial if he didn't know who Namjoon was here to check on.

"Namjoon-ah?" He called out softly, knowing that Namjoon's sharp ears would pick it up with ease, just as they always did when Seokjin murmured his name in the darkness of their meeting room.

"Up here," Namjoon replied back as the music came to a halt before picking up again, his voice coming from the balcony directly above Seokjin's. A slow smile spread across Seokjin's face as he leaned against the cold stone railing, gazing out at the moonlit gardens below. The tension that had knotted his shoulders throughout the evening began to ease, replaced by a familiar warmth that had nothing to do with the unnatural heat still surrounding him. Above, the gayageum's song continued– a private concert just for him.

"Nice of you to drop by."

"I'm sorry I couldn't accompany you as your partner, my dear." Namjoon apologized, his warm, deep voice drifting down from the balcony. Seokjin huffed a laugh, cheeks and heart warm at how the man seemed to already know what he was internally complaining about.

"You still could," Seokjin pouted, feeling childish as the words left his mouth. "The ball is still ongoing."

The delicate notes from the gayageum stilled abruptly, and Seokjin could almost hear a sigh. When Namjoon spoke again after a long moment, his voice had taken on that particular tone– the one Namjoon used when he was trying to be reasonable. "My dear…"

"I know, I know," Seokjin replied, cutting him off before the apology could fully form. He straightened up, rolling his shoulders back in a conscious effort to shake off the momentary self-pity. "Just talking to myself."

The silence stretched between them for several long minutes, filled only by the distant hum of the ballroom and the occasional rustle of leaves in the garden below. Then, unexpectedly, Namjoon's voice came again, softer now, carrying a note of something that made Seokjin's breath catch. His husband was good at that– catching Seokjin off guard by his unchecked sincerity. "You look stunning, by the way. I'm sure there's no dearth of people who're eager for a chance to dance with the prince consort."

"You don't even know what I look like right now," Seokjin snorted. "Unless your magic powers lets you see through marble and stone– and if it does, then we're coming back to this very fascinating topic later."

There was a long pause, and just when Seokjin was wondering if Namjoon was ever going to start strumming the gayageum again, the man himself stepped gracefully onto the balcony, his tall form silhouetted against the moonlight.

Seokjin didn't bother to ask how he managed to get down to stand beside him. The younger's magic was just like that.

"We don't have any music," Namjoon pointed out abruptly, seemingly non sequitur. Seokjin ignored it and glided forward, reaching out to hold Namjoon's hands. They might have had their hiccups, but by now he knew how much he was allowed to push. And he also knew when his husband was making excuses.

"It's still faintly audible," Seokjin smiled, raising an eyebrow. If he could hear the distant strains of the musicians playing from within the great hall, then Namjoon, with his heightened senses, most certainly could as well. "It’s more than enough."

Namjoon shifted from one foot to another, but no further arguments were forthcoming. Seokjin gave a satisfied huff, pushing down the urge to laugh at how the younger had learnt how to pick his battles when it came to challenging Seokjin's stubbornness.

(A lesson, he mused wryly, that his own brothers had somehow failed to retain as they’d grown older. Instead, they’d only doubled down on their mischief, the pair of them turning into full-fledged brats who seemed to exist solely to raise hell whenever the opportunity presented itself.)

Shaking his head to dispel the wandering thoughts, Seokjin tightened his grip, entwining their fingers together before guiding them both into the poised, familiar stance of a waltz.

Namjoon obliged and put his hand on Seokjin's waist, sending jolts up his spine at the heat emanating from it.

They fell into the rhythm of the dance with ease, moving in comfortable silence, the faint strains of distant music guiding their steps. Seokjin still found it difficult to believe that this was real—that he was here, under the open sky, wrapped in the secure circle of Namjoon’s arms. Just weeks ago, he had only dreamed of this, ever since whispers of the ball had first reached his ears. The thought alone had made his pulse quicken, but now, with Namjoon’s steady presence grounding him, it was almost surreal.

"How’s the ball going?" Namjoon asked suddenly, his voice low and warm, breaking the quiet between them. There was a teasing lilt to his words, boyish playfulness dancing beneath the surface. "I’m sure you charmed everyone in there, hmm?"

Seokjin felt his cheeks flush at the remark, the heat rising so quickly he had to duck his head in a rare, unguarded moment– an action most un-princely, but one he couldn’t quite suppress. "I don’t know," he protested. "Your people are quite different from Gwacheon’s."

"Our people," Namjoon corrected gently, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around Seokjin’s as he guided him into a smooth twirl. For a man who had once claimed to be a terrible dancer, he moved with surprising grace, effortlessly sweeping Seokjin along as though they had done this a thousand times before.

"I cannot see through solid objects, though," Namjoon added abruptly as an afterthought, referring back to the question Seokjin had asked. Seokjin was starting to get used to the fact that for some reason, his husband seemed to be more awkward than usual today with his conversational skills. There was something endearingly awkward about Namjoon tonight, his usual composure fraying at the edges, his words stumbling in a way that was entirely unlike him. Seokjin blinked, momentarily thrown by the sudden shift in topic, but then he felt the corners of his lips twitch. Did something get him ruffled?

Namjoon’s gaze lingered on him, heavy and intent, and even though Seokjin couldn’t see past the delicate veil obscuring his husband’s eyes, he had the distinct, fluttering sensation of being checked out. The realization sent another wave of warmth through him, his blush deepening, but he refused to let it rattle him. Instead, he straightened his posture, chin lifting with practiced poise. After all, Seokjin knew he looked good– and if Namjoon wanted to look, well. He wouldn’t stop him.

"You really do look stunning," Namjoon concluded, echoing the praise that he had said earlier.

Seokjin couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and airy in the night’s hush. His husband’s insistence on proving his sincerity was nothing short of adorable. "You know that now," he teased, tilting his head coyly when he felt Namjoon’s fingers flex ever so slightly against his waist.

"I drew a fairly reasonable conjecture before from a series of known facts," Namjoon defended, his tone taking on that particular cadence it did when he was trying–and failing–to sound purely aloof and unbiased. Seokjin could practically hear the pout in his voice, even if he couldn’t see it beneath the veil. "So you can say I knew that before too."

Seokjin just raised an eyebrow, highly amused. "And those facts would be?"

Namjoon didn’t miss a beat, his steps never faltering as he guided them through the waltz. "You’re always gorgeous," he began, reciting the words with the same detached precision one might use to list the day’s weather, as if it were the most obvious truth in the world. "And you’d have specifically dressed up today." A pause, then, with a quiet certainty that made Seokjin’s pulse stutter, "So I extrapolated on that and came to the conclusion that you’d look as beautiful as the stars tonight."

Seokjin coughed, pink to the tip of his ears. "Aish, you charmer," he muttered, flustered despite himself. "I always look as beautiful as the stars."

Namjoon laughed, a rich, unfiltered sound that rippled through the space between them, shaking his head in a way Seokjin desperately hoped was fondness. "That you do," he agreed, his voice softening. "Then you must forgive me, my dear, for I’m out of words that can exceed your normal beauty."

Seokjin bit his lip, fighting the absurd, giddy urge to bury his face in Namjoon’s chest. Instead, he narrowed his eyes playfully. "Are you this charming with everyone?" he accused, though there was no real bite to it. "Be honest–you had people falling over themselves to marry you, didn’t you?"

Namjoon's lips twisted into a bitter smile beneath the fabric of his veil, grateful for once that the barrier prevented Seokjin from witnessing the complicated expression crossing his features. He made sure to shake his head outwardly, keeping his voice carefully light. "It's always been you. From the beginning."

"Was it?" Seokjin asked with a laugh, easily catching on to Namjoon's bullshitting. "Were you one of my many admirers, spending your days pining away and sighing in lovesickness?"

Namjoon grinned, marveling at the older's ability to keep the mood light. Somewhere in the back of his awareness, he registered that the musicians had transitioned to a new song– meaning an entire set had concluded and protocol dictated he should end their dance. Yet he didn't loosen his grip on his husband in the slightest despite his apprehensions at Seokjin touching his monstrous claws even through the thin gloves he had put on before stepping out, and if this wasn't him being a pining admirer, he didn't know what was.

"I might have been, you never know," he teased back, drawing another sweet, lilting laugh from the other.

"Then you're supposed to court me in secret and steal me away Joon-ah, do you not read fine literature?"

The abrupt snort that escaped Namjoon was entirely undignified. "I'm not entirely convinced those scandalous romance novels you keep squirreled away in your chambers qualify as 'fine literature,' my dear," he retorted, unable to suppress the affectionate chuckle that followed. The mental image of Seokjin secretly devouring such dramatic tales while pretending to review state documents was almost too endearing to bear.

Seokjin turned up his nose, putting on an haughty air that made Namjoon giggle adorably. "Then you have no taste."

"That might be true," Namjoon agreed with a laugh, tilting his head in the way he did when he was unexpectedly amused. "Did you know the entire proposal was essentially banking on the assumption that you'd refuse?"

Seokjin stilled at that for a second, but moved on before Namjoon could notice. "Oh?"

"I still can't believe you honoured me with your hand," Namjoon said, affection wrapped around every syllable. "And that my trivial plan would end up like this–," He gave Seokjin's hand a squeeze, "– it feels like both a blessing and a curse, sometimes."

Seokjin cocked his head, a silent request for Namjoon to elaborate on that.

"It's…I didn't think marriage was for me," Namjoon explained. "But my parents continued insisting on it despite my protests…" He trailed off for a moment before continuing with that same wry humor Seokjin had come to recognize, even without seeing his face. "I told them that you were the only person I'm willing to marry. Your reputation precedes you."

"My reputation for turning down proposals, you mean?" Seokjin interjected, the pieces clicking into place with sudden clarity. So Namjoon hadn't actually expected a positive response–he'd simply counted on Seokjin's well-known reluctance to wed.

Seokjin suppressed a shudder at the thought of how different his life would have been had he really refused the proposal as Namjoon had predicted, and he was really, really glad that he had taken the leap of faith instead. Even when he had known practically next to nothing about the man back then.

(It could have turned out way worse as well, but Seokjin pushed that out of his mind. No need to borrow grief from a reality that hadn't come to pass.)

"I can't believe you had been willing to miss out on my glorious presence," Seokjin teased with a laugh, lightening the mood and forcefully tugging the conversation away from darker waters. "Your loss would have been truly tragic."

Namjoon, ever gracious, followed his lead without hesitation. Their conversation meandered through lighter topics–some gentle ribbing about Seokjin's dancing, an amusing anecdote about the ball's preparations–until they lapsed into comfortable silence, dancing together through two more songs, although at this point it had developed into swaying in each other's arms rather than a proper waltz.

"Be safe," Namjoon murmured as the third song was winding down, and Seokjin could sense a parting coming up. Then, without warning, Namjoon's arm slid firmly around his waist, pulling him closer than any dance dictated. Seokjin's breath caught as their bodies aligned, every nerve suddenly aware of the heat radiating through layers of fabric, of the solid strength of the arm holding him.

"I'll see you tomorrow night," Namjoon continued, his voice dropping into that low register that never failed to make Seokjin's pulse stutter. "I'd prefer you get proper rest after the ball. These affairs always run late."

"Okay," Seokjin breathed out, still flustered at the close proximity and the way he could feel his husband's strong, delectfully muscly arm wrapped around him.

"Goodnight, my dear," Namjoon said, letting go of Seokjin with reluctance. It took all of Seokjin's years of upbringing to not whine at the loss, the hopelessly whipped part of his brain wondering if Namjoon might have given him a forehead kiss.

He ruthlessly squashed down on such distracting thoughts, watching as the younger practically floated down to the garden below.

Just before disappearing into the night, Namjoon paused to glance back over his shoulder to look up at the balcony. Seokjin, seized by sudden impulse, blew him an exaggerated flying kiss. The effect was instantaneous, even before Seokjin could overthink and regret what he just did. Namjoon jerked as if struck, actually stumbling over his feet. Seokjin barely suppressed a delighted giggle, storing the memory away like a treasured secret.

But his smile dropped as soon Namjoon was gone, remembering the information that the younger had revealed.

So Namjoon hadn't even thought the marriage would happen? And what did he mean by both a blessing and a curse?

(Surely. Surely Namjoon still didn't think that Seokjin would leave him after a year. Surely Seokjin hadn't been that remiss in showing how much he adored his company. Surely–)

Chapter Text

"My dear?"

"Yes?" Seokjin prompted, taking another sip of the warm tea his husband had poured for him earlier.

"I have a hunting expedition. Tomorrow."

The porcelain cup paused halfway to Seokjin's lips. Steam curled lazily from its surface as he considered this unexpected announcement, narrowing his eyes. "On such short notice?"

Namjoon coughed awkwardly. "It had been discussed a week ago, actually."

Seokjin quietly set down his cup with a clink and let the silence stretch on, not actually mad but still wanting to make his husband sweat a little.

I–I was about to bring it up before, I swear!" Namjoon's words came faster now, tumbling over each other in that particular way they did when his anxiety got the better of him. "I just forgot."

A bubble of amusement rose in Seokjin's chest, and he finally let it escape as a bright, tinkling laugh. "That's okay," he relented, taking mercy on his flustered husband. "Tell me more about this expedition?"

"Oh, it's nothing too grand!" Namjoon replied immediately, getting his energy back now that he knew he wasn't in trouble as he launched into an enthusiastic explanation. "Nothing similar to the hunt in the summer, if you were thinking of that. That's the major hunt of the year to do away with as many of the monsters we can during their breeding season, but it's not like we can completely exterminate them."

Seokjin arched an eyebrow at this, and he didn't need to see Namjoon's face to know the wry grin that undoubtedly accompanied his response. "Yes hyung," Namjoon conceded with a chuckle, "it's too much even with my magic."

"So," Namjoon continued, "while the main extermination was in summer, we still get monsters here and there. And while we don't go out of our way to deal with every one of them–"

"–since that'd be a waste of resources and manpower–"

"–yes, exactly," Namjoon agreed warmly. "Instead the patrol knights inform us when there's a group big enough to warrant an expedition, the ones that'd become a problem if left unchecked– or even a particularly dangerous monster. It doesn't always have to be a group. So anyway, they report to their squad leader, and then we assemble a proper team to handle the threat. It's all very systematic."

"What kind of monster is it this time?" Seokjin asked curiously. He knew that the Northern kingdoms defended against monsters and were responsible for keeping the rest of the continent safe, but it all felt a little fantastical sometimes, after being raised in the safety of the Gwacheon plains.

"We're not sure," Namjoon admitted sheepishly. " "It appears to be a group rather than a single entity. From the scouts' reports, they suspect it's one of the burrowing varieties." There was a faint rustling of cloth, and Seokjin assumed that Namjoon was gesturing with his hands. "When they stay underground like this, intelligence gathering becomes... challenging, to say the least. The animals near the border have been unusually agitated though," Namjoon continued, his fingers absently tapping a rhythm now. "When the disturbance reaches this close to the forest's edge, we can't afford to ignore it. Better to investigate now than wait until they start encroaching on the villages."

"How long would the expedition take?" Seokjin asked, trying to keep his voice light despite the sudden tightness in his chest. Even despite even having a personal up and close experience with one of those monsters in the previous hunt, it was still hard to wrap his head around the idea of living in a place that treated the existence of monsters as a regular part of their lives.

Namjoon's response came quickly, as if he'd anticipated the concern. "Hardly a day at all. The site's right at the border–just a quick ride to reach it." He leaned forward slightly, his voice warming with reassurance. "If everything goes smoothly, we should be back before nightfall. Probably in time for dinner, if you'd like to wait for me for our nightly routine after that."

Seokjin's fingers tightened around his cup before he caught himself and took a deliberate sip. The tea had cooled, but the familiar sweetness grounded him. "Stay safe," he said, then immediately winced at how obvious it sounded. "Be careful and... um, take your time. I'd rather you come back late than rush and get hurt." He exhaled sharply, shaking his head at his own fussing. "Although I suppose you know what you're doing better than I do. It's just–" His words trailed off as he gestured vaguely, the steam from his tea curling between them. "I just worry."

Seokjin let out a small sigh realizing how ridiculous he sounded. Of course Namjoon would be fine, and if he estimated that it'd be wrapped up in a day, this seemed like a quick and easy mission. "I'm sorry, I guess the habits of being an older brother never go away."

Namjoon laughed, sounding happy. "Well then, as an only child, it's nice to have someone to worry about me."

"Yoongi would have your head if he heard that," Seokjin deadpanned. "He practically babies you."

"Noooo," Namjoon whined, and Seokjin would bet his entire lineage that the man was pouting. "Yoongi hyung bullies me half the time."

"It's just his tough love," Seokjin rolled his eyes. "And I know you take full advantage of it, husband. Don't act innocent."

"I'm always innocent!" the prince protested. "I can't believe that you'd join him and gang up against me like this– all my hyungs are so mean."

Seokjin threw his head back with a loud laugh, the sound echoing off the chamber walls. "Ah, but fortunately for you," he said once he'd caught his breath, leaning forward with a conspiratorial wink, "Your lovely husband happens to not be kind and generous, and he wants you to know that he's more than willing to play knight in shining armor and defend you from your terrible, mean hyungs."

Namjoon tilted his head, the fabric of his veil swaying with the movement. Only wholesome, affectionate teasing among family?"

"And I suppose such valiant intervention would never actually be necessary, because my endlessly benevolent husband who always sees the best in everyone would insist no true bullying ever occurs? Only playful bonding?" Namjoon asked drily.

Seokjin's eyes sparkled with mischief as he pressed a hand to his chest in mock solemnity. "Exactly so! My, how well you understand your husband's generous nature, Your Highness. It's truly touching."

"I'm sure it is," Namjoon intoned, amusement obvious. Regrettably, his mood sobered up, so Seokjin was forced to come back to the topic of the hunt as Namjoon explained a bit more about past hunts and some stories that Seokjin might have found fun if the characters involved in those incidents were not the people he was intimately acquainted with by now. But he was, so the stories made him more worried than anything.

"Are Yoongi or Hoseok going with you?" He asked, putting aside the now empty cup.

"Yoongi-hyung?" Namjoon asked, sounding surprised at the question. "No, he's not the type to go out on the field."

Seokjin made an understanding noise, thinking back on his and Hoseok's sparring sessions. Yoongi sometimes came to watch, and even more rarely joined it, and while Seokjin knew he was capable of defending himself– and generally better at the bow than the sword– but yes. Min Yoongi didn't seem like the type to go monster hunting.

"Hoseok?" Seokjin prompted again.

"He's staying back as well," Namjoon answered. "Hoseok accompanies quite a few of the expeditions, but it's usually the longer or more complicated ones where we need a proper plan to minimize casualties. This mission appears to be relatively tame, so he's not going."

Something must have shown on his face, because Namjoon hastily tagged on, "Monie would be with me, though! He gets very excited about hunts."

Seokjin nodded, deciding to trust that they knew what they were doing. Unlike him, they've lived in the North their whole lives, and are now strangers to monsters. And really, he was being paranoid. It's not like Namjoon hadn't gone hunting before, and the summer hunt had been far more dangerous and his husband had dealt with that with practiced ease.

But maybe that's why he's concerned now when he wasn't earlier, because that incident had been Seokjin's first meeting with monsters, and the wild animals of the hunts back home had drastically paled in comparison. He knows Namjoon would be fine, has seen him fighting firsthand, but he doesn't think he'd ever stop being concerned about these expeditions until he sees the younger safe and sound.

"Stay safe," he repeated, shooting a confident smile at the other.

"I will," Namjoon promised, and Seokjin would like to think that he smiled back. "I appreciate the concern," the prince added in a softer voice, warm and gentle. "But this really is routine. The knights and I have handled dozens of these small operations." He reached across the bed, his hand hovering near Seokjin's before thinking better of it and withdrawing. Seokjin didn't have magical night vision like Namjoon did– but the heat that emanated from the man's skin whenever he was near was a dead giveaway of his actions. "You'll hardly have time to miss me."

Seokjin huffed, but the tension in his shoulders eased slightly. The rational part of his mind knew Namjoon was right–this was far from his first expedition, and he'd returned safely every time. Still, the irrational part, the part that had grown far too attached to his enigmatic husband, couldn't help but worry.

"Just see that you keep it that way," he finally said, attempting a teasing tone. "I'd hate to have to come rescue you from some overgrown mole creature."

Namjoon's laughter filled the room, bright and unexpected, but despite that, the strange weight in Seokjin's chest remained. He bit back another sigh at his own irrational feelings, and smiled back instead.

The gnawing concern clung to Seokjin like a shadow throughout the day, stubbornly persistent despite his attempts to shake it. Even his usual stroll through the palace gardens, normally one of his favourite ways to wind down after a long day, did little to ease the restless energy thrumming beneath his skin. The trees and winter blooms did nothing to soothe him like they usually did, and their beauty might as well have been invisible for all the comfort they brought him today.

His fingers trailed absently along the hedges as he walked, the crisp leaves brushing against his skin. Normally, he would have paused to admire the careful topiaries or the way the fading evening light gilded the ice crystals on the petals, but today his mind refused to settle. Logically, he knew there was little cause for alarm– Namjoon was only slightly later than anticipated, and this had been deemed a routine mission by everyone he had asked. The man had faced far greater dangers during the summer hunt and emerged without a scratch, Seokjin shouldn't be so unreasonably worried.

He had even stopped by the music room that was Yoongi's favourite haunt, but the man had assured him it was usual for hunts to run late. Sometimes, the party ran into the monsters' nest, and it was best to erase them completely to get to the root of the problem. Yet Seokjin couldn't help his worry, feeling his something had gone wrong.

Maybe it was because Namjoon had missed their nightly conversation, and the last time that had happened, it was because his husband had been angry with him. No matter how busy the prince was, even if Seokjin never even caught a glimpse of him for days on end, Namjoon had always made time every night. Not once since their marriage had Namjoon missed their evening meetings other than that incident– not even during his busiest weeks. The prince had always found time, slipping into Seokjin's chambers no matter how late the hour or how heavy his responsibilities.

A twinge of guilt prickled at the back of Seokjin's mind at the thought. He knew how often the council complained about the prince's packed schedule, how even Namjoon himself sometimes lamented having no time for his beloved books or star charts. Yet he always made time for Seokjin. The contracts stipulated their nightly meetings, true, but the warm familiarity between them had long since surpassed mere obligation.

But he consoled himself that the prince's friends had been complaining about this even before the marriage. And either way, even if Seokjin told him to stop, their time together was written in the contracts. Seokjin knew that like him, his husband genuinely liked their time together and wasn't doing that just out of obligation at this point. But even if he didn't, it was still part of his duties, one that he tried his best to fulfill. There was nothing that feeling guilty could achieve.

Heavy breathing and hasty footfalls interrupted his musings, and he turned to see a servant rushing towards him. Seokjin jolted, nodding at the valet who had been silently accompanying him to go and meet her halfway.

"They're back," the handmaiden informed hurriedly to Jimin, her hushed words so urgent that even Seokjin could hear them in the stillness of the garden. "The extermination team. But– but–", and here she risked a quick glance towards the prince consort, before averting her eyes to the ground in a proper show of respect. "His highness and the knights are injured–"

"Injured!?" Seokjin gasped, unable to control himself. "How badly– where- where is he?"

"His highness has been taken to his personal bedchambers," the servant demurred with a bow, her fingers twisting nervously in her skirts. "His highness has been taken to his personal chambers," she said, voice trembling slightly. "The royal physicians are attending to him as we speak."

Seokjin clicked his tongue, the familiar frustration of waiting settling heavy in his chest. Memories surfaced unbidden–standing outside Taehyung's sickroom as a child, small hands pressed against the doorframe as he strained to listen to the muffled voices of healers because no one would tell him anything concrete. Just empty reassurances that his brother would be fine, that he simply needed rest. Taehyung had been a sick child when he was young, and waiting was always the hardest part. Thankfully, his brother's constitution had improved as he had gotten older, but the memories were not something Seokjin would be able to forget.

Granted, Seokjin was himself a child then, so he understood everyone's hesitance to go into details about his brother's condition in front of him. They just wanted to spare him the worry and the anxiety, but personally, Seokjin felt it was a naïve plan in practice. He had worried more when he was kept in the dark, and on days where Taehyung's hacking cough got so bad that he could hear it through the door, Seokjin spent the nights trying his best to stubbornly remain awake, plagued by the fear that maybe he'd wake up to find that he's one brother short now.

He shook his head, dispelling the memories before they took on darker turns. The focus right now was Namjoon. At least now, as prince consort, he wouldn't be kept in the dark about his husband's condition.

He took a sharp step forward, the gravel crunching beneath his boots. "What kind of injuries does he have? Surely people saw him come in– the knights must know at least, no?" Seokjin demanded, having briskly made his way over. And then catching himself and realizing how callous he might have seemed, he hastily added- "And the others, are they severely hurt? Any deaths?"

"No deaths, your grace," the servant answered quickly, addressing the most dire question first."The other injuries appear typical for an extermination mission. As for his highness..." She hesitated, then continued carefully, "The knights report he wasn't wounded in battle, but rather... poisoned."

"Poisoned?" Seokjin's voice cracked on the word, barely restrained from rising into something shrill and panicked. His mind conjured images of Namjoon convulsing, foaming at the mouth–all the terrible possibilities he'd heard in court rumors. "What do you mean poisoned? Never mind, just take me to him now."

Without waiting for a response, Seokjin gathered his robes and strode toward the castle, his hurried footsteps kicking up fallen leaves in his wake. The servant and Jimin scrambled to keep pace behind him, their murmured conversation about the incident fading into background noise as Seokjin focused on the path ahead. He dimly registered Jimin trying to gather more details from the frazzled woman as he went but she only knew so much, as the head maid had sent her to immediately alert the prince consort about his husband's return and thus hadn't hung around to know the details.

Seokjin paid it no mind. Even if she had known the entire story, he knew he wouldn't be able to rest until he saw his husband with his own eyes. The castle corridors blurred past as he moved with single-minded purpose, his silk robes fluttering like startled birds around his ankles. Servants cleared way and scurried to the sides to let him pass, their curious gazes burning against his back. Normally, he would care about maintaining decorum, but every fiber of his being was focused on reaching Namjoon's chambers.

When the familiar carved doors finally came into view, Seokjin didn't slow his pace–only to be brought up short as two guards crossed their spears before the entrance with a metallic clang.

The prince consort blinked in surprise at the sudden noise, before the anger flared up. "Excuse me!?" Seokjin demanded, their apologetic expressions doing nothing to reduce his ire. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Apologies, your grace, but according to instructions we cannot let you see his highness."

"What?" He hissed, but before he could say anything further, his valet had leaned closer to his ear.

"The contract, your grace." Jimin whispered, and the dots connected in Seokjin's mind, the reminder hitting like a physical blow. Of course it was the damned marriage contract. Until their first anniversary, Seokjin was expressly forbidden from laying eyes on his husband's face. The clause he'd thought little of during negotiations now stood as an infuriating barrier between him and Namjoon's sickbed.

Seokjin's jaw clenched so tight his teeth ached. Every instinct screamed to shove past the guards, to tear down the door with his bare hands if necessary. But years of royal training held him in place– the knowledge that breaking contract terms now could unravel everything they'd built these past months. He remembers all too well how it felt to be ignored by Namjoon.

"Surely there's a clause for emergencies?" He despaired, even as his mind brought up the lines of the contract that he had diligently memorized back when it had been signed. The contract had been painfully specific—no exceptions except death or wartime. "But there was the vacation and the wedding–" he tried to argue, but his words died on his lips as he remembered how Namjoon had remained meticulously veiled even during those intimate moments, the fabric never slipping despite laughter or fatigue. Now, with his husband possibly writhing in pain behind those doors, the rules felt crueler than ever. What was the point of checking on his ailing husband if he'd have to exert himself and cover up just so that Seokjin could fulfill his selfish wishes?

His heart plummeted, realizing that there was no point in arguing with the guards right now. These guards were following orders– they were good, loyal soldiers doing their duty.They had been given blanket instructions not to let him meet Namjoon, and they were strict about it. That made them reliable and trustworthy as guardsmen, but to Seokjin right now, they were frustrating traits.

"Is someone inside with him right now, at least?" He asked softly, defeated.

"His and her majesty, along with the physicians," the guard dutifully reported, voice carefully neutral.

Seokjin nodded, stilted. For a long moment, he simply stood before the imposing doors, his shadow stretching across the stone floor in the flickering torchlight. But in the end, there really wasn't anything he could do other than wait outside. The scene felt sickeningly familiar– another vigil outside a sickroom, another helpless wait for news. The whole thing reminded him of the nights spent waiting outside Taehyung's room in the most unpleasant of ways, and Seokjin desperately tried to swallow down his bitterness. He knew what he had been getting into. He had signed the contract himself.

(Unsurprisingly, the self reminders decreased neither his frustrations nor his concerns.)

"Seokjin hyung!"

The familiar voice shattered his dark thoughts. He turned to see Yoongi striding down the corridor, his usual composed expression tinged with rare worry. The sight was so welcome that Seokjin nearly stumbled forward to meet him.

"Yoongi," he breathed, pushing away from the wall where he'd been leaning. The cold stone had left imprints on his palms. He didn't know exactly how much time had passed, and he couldn't be bothered to take out his pocket watch right now, but it couldn't have been more than ten minutes. "You heard the news."

The advisor nodded, his sharp eyes flickering to the guarded doors. "Mm. He's in there?"

"Yes, along with his parents and the physicians. There's been no news from inside, so far."

Yoongi studied the closed doors for a long moment before turning back, his gaze softening in understanding. "I'll wait out here then. Uncle and aunt are already with him, I wouldn't want to disturb the physicians with a crowd."

Seokjin swallowed down his gratefulness and the polite response that was expected of him– of course Yoongi should go inside, it was no trouble– because it was obvious why the man stayed back. But he was selfishly, pathetically, glad to not have to wait alone, so he just smiled and nodded. "He'd be alright," he said, willing the words to be true.

"Of course," Yoongi replied immediately, both of their statements composed entirely of their hopes rather than facts. Neither of them knew what the younger's condition actually was.

It was Hoseok who brought vital information, his hurried footsteps echoing down the corridor before he rounded the corner. His eyebrows shot up at the sight of them standing sentry outside the chambers rather than at Namjoon's bedside, but understanding flashed across his features almost instantly.

"It was a maurus that got him," Hoseok announced without preamble, blessedly skipping the small talk. "A regional monster," he added, mostly for Seokjin's benefit. "Looks like a scorpion the size of a hunting dog. And before you ask…yes, it's highly poisonous." The last two words landed like stones in Seokjin's gut.

Seokjin's stomach fluttered unpleasantly at hearing the last part. His hands clenched involuntarily at his sides, his nails biting into his palms as he fixed Hoseok with a desperate stare. He needed something–anything–to cling to, and he stared at Hoseok beseechingly for some reassurance.

Hoseok's expression softened slightly. "It's Namjoon," he said, as if that explained everything. When Seokjin continued staring, he elaborated, "His mana gives him unnatural vitality. He's far more resistant than any normal human would be." The words should have been comforting, but the grim set of Hoseok's mouth told another story. If this was the most reassurance he could offer, then Seokjin should be very, very worried. That sounded a lot like it was normally debilitating or fatal. The reality must be dire indeed.

His thoughts must have shown on his face, and both men seemed to notice simultaneously. Yoongi's hand came to rest between his shoulder blades while Hoseok gripped his arm, their touches anchoring him to the present.

"How...how bad is it usually?" Seokjin managed to ask, his voice barely above a whisper, somehow controlling himself from wringing his hand in anxiety.

Hoseok's lips pressed into a thin line. Yoongi studied the floor tiles with sudden intensity, stubbornly silent.

"Let's just wait to hear what the physician says, yeah?" Hoseok finally offered, the evasion more telling than any direct answer could have been.

Seokjin swallowed hard. That does not fill me with hope, he thought bitterly, but kept the words locked behind his teeth. Fretting wouldn't change anything, no matter how much his nerves screamed for action.

After what felt like an eternity of tense silence, Seokjin made a half-hearted attempt at courtesy. "You two should go inside–" he began, but the universe seemed determined to spare them from that particular charade because the heavy bedroom doors swung open at that moment, revealing Namjoon's mother escorting the royal physician into the corridor.

The three of them immediately crowded around them, clamoring for information on how Namjoon was doing.

"Boys, boys, let the man breathe," the queen instructed, tiredness lining her face. She didn't seem devastated though, so Seokjin assumed the situation wasn't the worst it could be.

The queen ignored them, turning instead to address the physician. "The maid will show you to the parlour for refreshments," she said, nodding toward a waiting servant who quietly guided the man away. The three of them tried to protest at the man of the hour going away, but the queen quickly diverted their attention again. "Boys, please. A bit of civility here."

"Is he alright?" Seokjin blurted out, making his mother in law look at him with a weak smile.

"He'll recover without any lasting effects," she informed, and it was as if the air in the hallway lightened immediately.

Hoseok frowned, his fingers tapping an anxious rhythm against his thigh. "But he's in pain?"

"That's what the physician is for, dear." The queen's voice remained steady, though the shadows under her eyes betrayed her calm demeanor. "He's been put to sleep for now, and they'll do everything possible to manage his discomfort in the coming days."

Yoongi dragged a hand through his already disheveled hair while Hoseok exhaled slowly through his nose. Theg didn't ask anything about any additional symptoms, so he assumed the poison's effects were limited to just pain– a small mercy, Seokjin supposed. He made a mental note to scour the royal library for information on maurus venom at the earliest opportunity, but for now, he focused on his mother-in-law as she elaborated on Namjoon's condition.

The king emerged moments later, his imposing frame filling the doorway. He offered them a few words of reassurance before striding down the corridor, his footsteps echoing against the stone walls. The queen made to follow but paused to affectionately pat each of them on the head– a gesture so maternal it made Seokjin's chest ache.

"He's sleeping right now, but you can go in," she encouraged, her eyes dimming when they landed on Seokjin. "But you, dear…"

"I understand," Seokjin interjected, eager to avoid the uncomfortable conversation. He didn't want a reminder of the fact that he couldn't even go and see his ailing husband when everyone else could.

She gave him a pitying smile anyway, and Seokjin supposed if anyone could understand what he was feeling, it would be someone who were a spouse themselves. Yoongi and Hoseok, for all their devotion, couldn't comprehend intimately what it meant to be bound in marriage. To be in love.

(Granted, he didn't know whether there was any affection between the king and the queen, but still.)

Not that any of that logical understanding did anything to stop the intense surge of resentment Seokjin felt when directed with that look. He knew that it wasn't any one person's fault because he had signed the damn contract himself as well, but dear lord, did he hate everyone present in the hallway at this time.

"He'll recover soon," she murmured quietly.

Seokjin summoned a smile perfected through years of courtly decorum, the kind that curved his lips without ever reaching his eyes. "That's what we all will pray for," he replied smoothly, turning to Hoseok and Yoongi with lips determinedly set in that smile. "You should go see him."

The two of them hesitated, but Yoongi finally took the lead and grabbed Hoseok's arm in a firm grip. "We'll let you know how he is," he promised, dark eyes solemn.

Seokjin inclined his head. "That'd be much appreciated."

He watched them disappear into the bedroom, surprised to see the queen still waiting when he turned his attention back towards her. Seokjin would have assumed that she'd follow her husband or go talk to the physician once again, but he supposed she still had something to talk to him about.

"Shall we talk as we walk?" she suggested, dispensing with any pretense that this wasn't a deliberate conversation. Seokjin found himself increasingly grateful for the Northern nobility's bluntness– at least one never had to guess at their intentions.

He fell in step with her, the two of them walking further away from Namjoon's wing.

"Now, Jin-ah, I know this will be a difficult time for you," she said after a few steps, tone gentle despite her general no nonsense attitude that Seokjin had gotten used to. "But be assured that Joon is in good hands."

"I–yes," Seokjin agreed when she looked at him with expecting eyes. "Of course. I trust the physicians are doing their best."

She gave him a brisk nod, her eyes returning to the path ahead. "Exactly. And while we may want to help however we can, ultimately it depends on the treatment and Namjoon's own will to fight through this." Her voice took on a harder edge as she continued, "Monster attacks are nothing new to us in the North, you see. These creatures were here long before our ancestors settled these mountains, and they'll remain long after we're gone. It's just the way these mountains are– every day is a fight, built upon generations of defenses."

Seokjin narrowly avoided pursuing his lips, having an inkling now of where this talk was going.

"You'll get to see him within a month, at most," she continued, getting to the point as she leveled a sideways gaze at him, the torchlight catching the silver strands in her hair. "I trust you, Seokjin-ah."

Seokjin swallowed down the reflexive 'do you?' that rose up his throat, giving her a tight lipped smile instead. "I'll be patient."

She hummed in satisfaction at his answer, wrapping up the conversation with the efficiency that Seokjin had come to expect from Namjoon's family.

"I'm going to the temple," she stated softly, seemingly unrelated to their previous discussion. "Would you like to join, Seokjin-ah?"

Seokjin blinked at her, and then made his decision. There was no saying how long Namjoon would be asleep and when his condition would change today, but it's not like he could do anything about it. He couldn't even see the man to give him some comfort, some dutiful husband that he was.

"I–yes. Allow me to accompany you," he agreed after a beat, already mentally rearranging his plans. The royal library's bestiaries would have to wait. First, there was one more thing he needed to do.

"If you'll excuse me for a moment," he said with a respectful bow, "there's something I need to ask the physician. I'll join your grace shortly," Seokjin excused himself, dipping his head. He'd gotten most of the information on Namjoon's health already, but he just wanted to ask about his diet while he recovers. Seokjin understood that it'd be better to leave the clearly delicate diet of a healing person to the trained royal chefs, but if he could take care of the younger in any way possible, he wanted to take it. If he was deemed a nuisance then he wasn't vain enough to continue bothering the kitchen staff, but he still wanted to try, at the very least.

"I'll meet you in front of the eastern gates in fifteen minutes, yes?" Namjoon's mother asked, looking at him knowingly with soft eyes. "It'd be reassuring to have at least one of my sons safe before my eyes."

Seokjin stopped in his tracks, staring at her.

Oh. Maybe she had waited to keep him company, just like Hoseok and Yoongi had.

Seokjin didn't smile to himself– not exactly, when his mind was still so clouded with worry to muster up anything more than a faint upward tilt of his lips– but the lightness to his steps was an improvement.

(It didn't do much for the bitterness that had wrapped around his heart, though, and a part of him hated everyone a little.)

Namjoon gets better, because of course he does. Seokjin wouldn't have accepted any other outcome. It takes him more than a month– five weeks, to be exact– before he's given a clean bill of health by the physicians.

(From what Hoseok and Yoongi tell him though, the prince had been whining to get out of his confinement to his room long before that. Seokjin chuckles at the mental image.)

Seokjin survives the interminable wait by dividing himself into pieces: his mornings spent buried in bestiaries researching the maurus and its venom, afternoons working through his frustrations in brutal sparring sessions that leave his muscles screaming, evenings kneeling in the temple with prayer beads clenched between his fingers. He takes on double duties–both his own responsibilities and as much of Namjoon's workload that didn't require the prince's direct presence– organizing documents and attending minor meetings so his husband won't face an impossible mountain of tasks upon recovery. The castle kitchens become his sanctuary, where he badgers the chefs into teaching him recipes that might aid healing, preparing dishes with his own hands despite their protests about royal propriety.

(Seokjin always had a background knowledge of medicine thanks to Taehyung's sickly childhood, but he's still new when it comes to Ilsan. He learns to make honeyed ginger tea exactly to Namjoon's preferences, masters the art of medicinal broths, discovers which of the local flowers can be candied to soothe a convalescent's sweet tooth without upsetting their stomach. The kitchen staff eventually stop sighing at his presence and begin leaving ingredients prepped for him at dawn.)

Every waking moment is meticulously scheduled, leaving no room for dangerous temptations such as sneaking into Namjoon's chambers. He wouldn't risk it. Not now, when there's a chance that he could be sent away in punishment before he had a chance to see Namjoon well and recover. Ilsan is comfortable now, and his new family is warm, but it's not home. It's not Gwacheon, where Seokjin could get away with almost anything with the ironclad confidence that his family always had his back.

Namjoon's family is nice and welcoming and make sure that he's not in want of anything, but in the end, it's Namjoon's family.

(Oddly enough, it's the wolves he finds solace in. Seokjin had run into the scene of a stablehand struggling with keeping Namjoon's wolf away from the castle entrances quite by coincidence, and he couldn't have helped a sardonic snort from slipping out. He pays the wolves a visit later because they aren't allowed inside the castle, idly stroking through Monie's fur.

"I guess we're in the same boat, huh?" Seokjin had murmured, laughing quietly to himself. It wasn't even funny– and Monie clearly thought that too, the wolf shooting him his best disgruntled look for an animal– but Seokjin was used to his emotions being a mess at that point.)

So Namjoon recovers, and eventually Seokjin gets to talk to him again and be personally reassured of his well-being, and it all goes back to normal. Seokjin discovers that five weeks of absence can't diminish the way his pulse stutters in the presence of his husband, and the reminder of how sweet and gentle the man is almost makes him do something stupid– like draw him into a long kiss. He doesn't, obviously, but it's a close thing.

One of the servants had evidently let it slip– or knowing Namjoon, he had most likely asked about who was behind the acts– because the prince thanked him properly for every delivered meal, every vase of carefully arranged flowers, every book left to combat boredom. That first evening when they're finally alone, Namjoon's fingers find Seokjin's sleeve, his voice dropping to something unbearably tender. "I missed you."

Seokjin's heart swells, and that simple sentence goes a long way in squashing the bitterness that had been festering in it.

Because of course Seokjin hadn't been the only one who had to bear it. Of course his husband would have missed him too, even if sometimes his worries got the best of him and he wondered if he had been misreading the affection in Namjoon's voice and words and actions, if he loved the prince more than he was loved in return.

Seokjin smiles back, tells Namjoon how much he missed him too, and they move on.

(There's still tendrils of resentment that wrap around him and whisper that Namjoon could have fixed all this easily if he'd have just allowed Seokjin to see him, but he pushes those thoughts away. Seokjin doesn't want to be that asshole who gets angry at sick people.)

(But they still linger–)

((Later. He'd come visit them later.))

Chapter Text

"Jimin-ah."

The valet immediately straightened from his post by the desk, the quill he'd been polishing forgotten in his hands. "Yes, your highness?"

Seokjin peeled his eyes away from the window to look at him, taking a brief respite from the documents he was going through. The mountain air carried a crispness that promised the changing seasons, and he longed to abandon the stack of trade agreements in favor of his balcony, where he could watch the sunset paint the peaks in fiery hues. Later, perhaps. When the work was done.

"Now, I'm aware what it sounds like," Seokjin began, tapping an absent rhythm on the paper in front of him. "But what does Namjoon-ah look like?"

Jimin stilled, fingers wrapped around the quill. Honestly, it's something Seokjin should be asking one of the servants he had brought along from Gwacheon instead of someone who belonged to the Ilsan castle, but such was the nature of a random question. Seokjin hadn't exactly planned on asking it in the first place, but recent events had been bothering him.

Jimin hesitated, looking as if he wanted to wring his hands. "Your highness–"

"Be at ease," Seokjin interrupted before the imminent warnings could come. He leaned back in his chair, the carved wood creaking beneath him. "I'm not asking for a description that might breach our contract. Simply your... personal impression of his appearance."

The valet had a complicated expression on his face, and Seokjin could almost see the gears working in his mind. Even if he was originally an Ilsan servant, he was part of Seokjin's retinue now, so he couldn't have refused to answer in the first place. But he wouldn't want Seokjin to get into trouble for asking things he wasn't supposed to, so it was a difficult place for the man. But Seokjin had made the question vague enough that neither of them would get into trouble, so all that remained was for Jimin to decide whether he wanted to give a polite answer that said nothing or give his honest opinion on Namjoon's looks.

Knowing Jimin, Seokjin was willing to bet on the latter.

"Sexy."

There you go.

Seokjin gave him an amused grin, enjoying the way Jimin's composure faltered for a second. "Oh?" He drawled, resting his chin on one hand. "Do enlighten me further."

"Your grace!" Jimin's hands fluttered up in a defensive gesture, the sleeves of his outer robe flapping like the wings of a startled bird. "Please forgive my impertinence–I only spoke as a loyal subject with the utmost respect for his highness!"

The prince laughed freely, waving his hand. "Oh Jimin-ah, I'm not going to throw you in the dungeons for praising my husband." He smirked, leaning forward. "But sexy, hmm?"

Jimin ducked his head further, but Seokjin noted with amusement how the valet didn't retract his statement. The tips of his fingers worried at the hem of his sash as he mumbled, "Of course, this is purely a subjective opinion. Many at court would likely describe his highness as... intimidating instead."

Seokjin hummed thoughtfully. His mind drifted back to their wedding day, to the imposing figure Namjoon had cut in his ceremonial robes, the way the heavy veil had lent him an air of untouchable mystery. "Joonie certainly gives off that impression at first glance," he mused aloud. Then, arching one perfectly groomed eyebrow, he added, "But you mean to tell me those who've served him for years still find him frightening?"

Jimin flushed even more under Seokjin's sharp eyes, and Seokjin might have to teach him how to control his emotions better if he didn't know that it was just because he was comfortable around Seokjin. After all, Seokjin knew firsthand that the boy was adept at using his charm at beguile people, a skill that Seokjin had no shame in exploiting in getting secrets out of some people. Jimin wielded his expressions like a weapon, controlling them was not something he'd struggle with.

"His highness's appearance is…special." Jimin revealed cautiously. "Some people may find it off-putting, in a way someone may find a scar unsightly, yet some consider them as badges of honor."

Seokjin raised a silent eyebrow. There was a lot that Jimin wasn't saying here, because the amount of concern Namjoon has about his appearance? That's not just simple insecurity about his looks not meeting social norms. You don't simply hide away a prince– the crown heir on top of that– from the world for years, sequestering him behind layers of silk and secrecy, for something so trivial.

Hidden, to the point that his own husband wasn't allowed to attend to him when he was on the sickbed.

The bitter thought was a familiar, acrid taste in the back of his throat. Seokjin forcibly dismissed it and went back to perusing the documents, but his mind was a mile away as he dwelled on his husband's appearance. He knows the best thing here is to be patient and wait till the year is over– a mere three months stood between him and the end of their contractual year, when the veil of secrecy would finally be lifted, literally and figuratively. The mystery would be resolved, and he could begin the work of assuring Namjoon that whatever he saw, it changed nothing. He was determined to build the man's confidence brick by stubborn brick. Yet it also seemed incredibly difficult, considering that the man had been surrounded by people as supportive as Yoongi and Hoseok since childhood and still had this much pain about his appearance. What was a stranger joined only through wedlock, in comparison to the love of your brothers?

But he was nothing if not stubborn, so the limits of what he could do was not a problem he was much concerned with.

No, the real problem here was the waiting. So much of waiting until he got to see and touch and love his husband in all entirety rather than catch just bits and pieces.

Seokjin resisted the urge to huff as he turned to another stack of pages. Ahh, what does Namjoon really look like? What was so bad that he had to this extent? Surely it couldn't be his body, if it was something like scars or disfigurement, the prince can easily hide them under his clothes if he so wished. It'd be especially easy to do so with Ilsan's climate, where you have to cover every inch of yourself either way if you don't want to be harassed by the chilling winds. But Seokjin had seen the silhouette of his husband's body a fair number of times, and one would have to be grossly visually impaired to not see how lovingly sculpted Namjoon's physique was– and don't get Seokjin started on the arms– or the way his thighs had strained against the confines of the leather pants the man had worn during the hunt, oh gosh.

It didn't even matter if Namjoon did have any gross deformities or scars– Seokjin wasn't vain enough to think that any of that would make him adore his husband any less. It might disturb him a bit at first, but it's nothing that he can't get used to, and he'd already admitted to himself that he's hopelessly in love with the man. He'd grow to love every part of him, if Namjoon gives him the chance.

That did lead to the question though, was it the face? Growing up in Gwacheon, the mysterious Northern prince had been a figure of lurid speculation. The rumors had flown like leaves in a storm– the heir was hidden away because he was a bastard, because he was insane, because he was a monster. And, like all court gossip, the tales had spiraled into wild and gruesome detail. Some said he’d been caught in a fire as a child, his features melted and scarred by the flames. Others whispered darker things– that the king himself had attacked his son in a fit of rage, leaving his face mutilated beyond recognition for whatever reason.

Seokjin could disregard those theories, but he did wonder what the truth was. A fire might not be out of the question, from what he vaguely remembered about Namjoon's hand that one time his husband had let his guard down when Seokjin had been recovering. The skin had felt… different. Not unpleasant, but distinct. Calloused, yes, but in a way that was unfamiliar, with a texture he couldn't quite place–smooth yet oddly rippled, like wax that had once melted and reset. It could have been the mark of old burns.

Although it's not like the backstory would do anything to quench his desire to take his stupidly lovable, sweetheart of a husband's face and kiss every inch of it–

"Would you like to see his highness?"

Seokjin looked at Jimin sharply. "Something like that can get you executed for directly going against a royal order."

Jimin dipped his head in immediate deference, though the glint in his eye suggested the warning was anticipated. "Then, your grace," he amended smoothly, "May it simply be considered an innocuous query from a concerned servant? You appeared to be looking at those trade documents as if you were contemplating eating them up, parchment, ink, and all. A brief respite to go and visit the actual source of your…desires, might be good."

"I–I was not looking at them like that!" Seokjin squawked, his embarrassment flaring hot and immediate. The sheer audacity! Even if it was, perhaps, a little accurate.

Jimin shot him an impressively sarcastic 'if you say so' look, somehow effective despite the polite smile he wore.

"And we're not doing anything of that sort," Seokjin said firmly, shutting down that line of conversation. Rash decisions would get them nowhere. Jimin merely bowed his head, and just quietly asked whether Seokjin would like another cup of tea.

They were definitely doing something of that sort, Seokjin amended as he adjusted the scarf tighter around his face. He tugged the hood of his cloak forward, casting his features into deeper shadow before melting into the bustling flow of the market crowd. The sharp, cold air bit at the sliver of exposed skin on his forehead, a stark contrast to the warmth of the castle he had just left behind.

He just hadn't wanted to include Jimin in that 'we'. Instead, trailing a respectful few steps behind him was a servant who had made the long journey north from Gwacheon with him–a man whose loyalty had been proven in the sun-drenched courtyards of his homeland, not the frosty, enigmatic halls of Ilsan. Seokjin liked Jimin, he truly did. The valet was efficient, clever, and it was cute to see how shy he and Yoongi got around each other. But Seokjin grew up in a court of thorns, and he had no desire to test whether Jimin’s ultimate allegiance lay with him, the foreign consort, or with the Ilsan royal family who had likely employed his family for generations. You never know what kind of orders someone was under, and for all he knew, Jimin could be both his valet and someone to keep an eye on Seokjin's activities. He was just being careful.

Seokjin meandered through the market, deliberately casual, taking his time to peruse the goods. He smiled at a granny who was manning a fruit stall. "Those tangerines look good."

Her own face crinkled into a wide, gap-toothed grin, the wrinkles around her eyes deepening. "Twenty copper coins for the basket," she announced, her voice raspy but strong. She gave him a once-over, taking in the quality of his cloak despite its plain appearance. "But for a handsome young man like you, fifteen."

Seokjin rolled his eyes good naturedly. "Come on grandma, don't loot me just because I'm not a local. Eight."

She cackled, already picking up a hand woven basket. "Twelve."

"Ten," Seokjin retorted. "Or I'm going to the stall on the other street."

"Aish, take it," she grumbled, though her eyes still sparkled with amusement as she began bagging the fruits. "Take it for ten. Kids these days, you think I'm making a king's ransom off these? I hardly have a sliver of margin left with that kind of discount. You'll beggar me yet!"

Seokjin accepted the bag of tangerines with a gracious nod, handing over the ten copper coins and pointedly ignoring the grandmother’s theatrical grumbling. It was the standard spiel he’d become intimately familiar with over the past few months. Every merchant in the city seemed to have the same script when a customer successfully haggled, a lament for profits that were, in reality, still perfectly healthy. He knew what a fair market price was at this point, he went out often enough.

And well–

A small, private smile touched his lips as he turned to leave, only to be called back by the grandma's shout. He looked over his shoulder to see her holding up the coins he’d given her, her expression a comical mix of shock and suspicion. He simply waved a dismissive hand and hollered at her to keep the change. He may or may not have slipped a gold coin in there, but it's fine. He's a prince, he didn't need to haggle with extorting old ladies, it was just something he did for the fun of the game. They always tried to inflate the price the moment they detected his southern accent and infer that he wasn't a local, or perhaps, as Yoongi had once dryly pointed out, it was his sun-kissed skin that betrayed him before he even opened his mouth. This far north, where the sun was a pale, precious guest in the sky for much of the year, his Gwacheon tan was a permanent souvenir of the heavy, golden summers that baked the plains of his homeland.

He continued to idle through the market, his gloved fingers trailing over displays of polished stone trinkets and thick, hand-knitted woolens. A part of him knew this was a risk– venturing out without a full guard detail with only one trusted servant shadowing him, a direct disobedience of the promise of caution he’d made to a worried Namjoon at the start of their marriage. But he soothed his conscience with logic– he was in the middle of a teeming, public marketplace, not the monster haunted forests that bordered the city. Besides, by the standards of his youth in Gwacheon, where he’d regularly slip his guards to explore the vibrant, chaotic port streets, this was a positively tame outing. He even had his sword under the robe even if he managed to wander into some shady alley, it'll be fine.

Anyway, the streets would be teeming with guards soon either way. It was the day of Namjoon's quarterly inspection of the kingdom, and the whole reason Seokjin was loitering in the marketplace.

Although, calling it an "inspection" was a generous bit of political theater, a sham of a description that everyone who worked in the palace knew all too well. In truth, it was a small, meticulously orchestrated parade, a performance designed to foster a sense of connection between the citizens and their future king. The real inspection of the kingdom was a continuous, unglamorous process handled by a vast network of administrators, scribes, and magistrates whose reports filled Namjoon’s desk daily. This public spectacle was about visibility, not verification. Seokjin knows, he had gone on enough of them himself as the eldest prince of Gwacheon.

But whatever it may be, it is an opportunity for Seokjin to finally (finally!) catch a glimpse of his elusive husband, so he's not complaining about semantics. His plan was simple– linger in the market, keep his face well-hidden, and blend seamlessly into the throng of onlookers as the procession passed. He’d timed it perfectly so that the whole affair would hardly take an hour, and then he could slip away, melting back into the castle’s side entrances with no one any the wiser.

As expected, the crowd started to pick up as the minutes ticked by, a current of excited murmurs and shifting bodies. Seokjin carefully maneuvered himself into a strategic spot, making sure to pick a place that was not right in the front but still close enough so that he could see Namjoon's face. It'd defeat the purpose if he was so far back that his vision would be obscured by the crowd– the prince was ridiculously popular among his people.

(Although, Seokjin amended in his mind, any royal procession pulled a crowd, popular or not.)

The distinct sound of guards politely but firmly clearing a path echoed down the cobbled street, their armored boots a rhythmic cadence against the growing buzz of the crowd. Namjoon couldn’t be far off now. Seokjin felt oddly nervous now that the moment was nearly upon him, checking his scarf multiple times to ensure that it was covering his face properly and looking around to make sure he had a clear view of the path the man would take. The commotion from up ahead grew louder, a rising tide of cheers and shouts. Namjoon was very, very close. Hell, he could already see the vanguard of the procession– a double line of the royal guard in their polished ceremonial armor, their expressions stern and professional as they held the enthusiastic crowd at a respectful distance. The air crackled with anticipation, and Seokjin’s heart began to hammer against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat counting down the seconds.

Oh lord, what if he really did hate Namjoon? What if, against all odds, Seokjin found him as repulsive as the Namjoon had feared? What if Seokjin ends up being the person that shatters Namjoon's precious, precious heart because he was vain and cruel and–

And then Namjoon’s horse rounded the corner, and the world narrowed to a single point.

Seokjin didn't know whether his eyes were immediately drawn to him, or whether he had to convince himself to get over his nerves and look at the man that he had gone to such lengths for. If you ask him, Seokjin wouldn't even be able to recollect what emotions had coursed through him back then.

His first thought, though, was that Jimin had been right.

His second thought was a rather uncharitable curse at his husband, because Seokjin had been kept away from this? This– this incredibly sexy, beast of a man!?

And Seokjin meant 'beast' in the most flattering sense, because while he had already thought Namjoon's silhouette was incredibly sexy with how muscular and…large his husband looked– and Hoseok had mentioned offhandedly once that at least some of that height was because of the dragon mana–, it was nothing compared to the things he felt when he saw Namjoon's hands. Or claws, to be more accurate, looking at those long nails that Seokjin just knew were sharp enough to tear through a monster if Namjoon so wished.

The claws–elegant, lethal, and utterly captivating–were just the beginning. Seokjin’s gaze traced their path upward, following the subtle shift in texture along Namjoon’s forearms. There, where skin might have been, was a breathtaking tapestry of shimmering, opalescent scales that caught the weak sun and fractured it into a thousand tiny rainbows. They ran from his wrists nearly to his elbows, and in a single, dizzying moment, a dozen small mysteries solved themselves. So this was why the man always wore gloves in Seokjin’s presence.

(He shouldn't though, because the things that Seokjin would let those hands do to him were things that should not be uttered out loud. But oh, would he let those claws ruin him–)

And the wonders did not stop at his arms. As Seokjin’s hungry gaze traveled upward, it snagged on the side of Namjoon’s neck, just above the high collar of his ceremonial cloak. There, partially hidden but unmistakable, was another patch of those same iridescent scales. They swept from his collarbone up the strong column of his throat, dusting the side of his jaw and tracing the elegant shell of his ear. The heavy cloak hid the full extent of the pattern, leaving Seokjin to wildly speculate. They likely stopped at his clavicle, judging by the size and spread, but the mere possibility of discovering more–of mapping every hidden, shimmering inch of his husband’s body on the night when he'd finally get to explore his husband's body was the most delicious of temptations. Not the most dignified of thoughts, but how was Seokjin supposed to hold back all the sinful emotions he'd been keeping a tight control on after knowing his husband looked like that?

And as if that wasn't enough, Namjoon also had the most gorgeous pair of eyes. He'd have loved Namjoon's eyes either way– despite the fact that he had never seen his husband till now, something in him told him that his eyes were always kind, always gentle, with the same fondness and affection that curled around every syllable of his voice. The way they looked was just a special surprise, if you ask Seokjin. His pupils were not round, but sharp vertical slits, cutting through the rich, warm brown of his irises like shards of obsidian, and while Seokjin had never seen a dragon in real life, he was sure that's what a dragon's eyes would look like.

Then those eyes met his.

Oh.

Oh no.

Seokjin paled, because Namjoon had looked his way. All the distance between them, all the people separating him and Namjoon, and yet somehow his husband's gaze cut across everyone to meet Seokjin's eyes.

And Seokjin knew– despite Namjoon having no change in his expression, despite the man doing nothing to indicate something was wrong, despite the fact that everything except Seokjin's eyes were covered by a scarf– his husband had recognised him.

(Ah. It seemed that the house Namjoon had set aside for his exile would be used after all.)