Chapter Text
The training yard hums with the steady rhythm of clashing swords. San, the king, moves with controlled precision, his blade meeting Jongho's powerful strikes in quick succession. Jongho's blows are heavy, but San's years of experience allow him to deflect each one with ease, his movements calm and measured.
A few feet away, Seonghwa and Hongjoong circle each other. Hongjoong's strikes are rapid, aggressive, but Seonghwa counters them effortlessly, always one step ahead, his feet light on the ground as he redirects each attack. Hongjoong's frustration is visible as his swings become more forceful, but Seonghwa's expression remains calm, almost serene.
Off to the side, Wooyoung lounges in the grass, lazily watching the sparring unfold.
"Hongjoong's gonna lose it soon," he mutters, taking a slice of apple from Yeosang, who sits beside him, quietly cutting fruit.
"He's trying too hard. Seonghwa's just playing with him at this point." Yeosang glances at Hongjoong, then hands Wooyoung another slice.
Wooyoung smirks, chewing thoughtfully as his eyes wander to the far corner of the yard where Yunho is supposed to be training Mingi. Instead, the two of them have disappeared behind a stack of barrels, out of sight. Wooyoung shrugs, not particularly interested in what they're doing but certain it's not sword practice.
The sharp clang of metal snaps Wooyoung's attention back to the action. Jongho's sword slams into San's with enough force to make the king step back, but San quickly recovers, countering with a smooth, precise strike. Meanwhile, Hongjoong lunges at Seonghwa again, only for Seonghwa to sidestep effortlessly, causing Hongjoong to stumble forward.
Wooyoung chuckles, popping another slice of apple into his mouth.
"Told you," he says, leaning back into the grass. "Hongjoong's too fired up. Seonghwa's just waiting for him to trip over his own feet."
"We can hear you, you know," Hongjoong snaps, swinging his sword with a bit more force than necessary as his frustration grows. Wooyoung's grin only widens.
"That's kind of the point," he retorts. "You won't be in battle in complete silence."
"They wouldn't be making fun of us, either," Seonghwa adds calmly, not missing a beat as he blocks another one of Hongjoong's strikes.
"We could boo if that makes you feel better," Yeosang shrugs, slicing another piece of apple with deliberate care. Wooyoung laughs, nudging him with his shoulder, clearly amused by the thought.
"Watch it—or you two won't be allowed to watch anymore," Jongho chimes in, pointing his sword teasingly in Yeosang's direction. Yeosang raises his hands in mock surrender.
"Oh, but Yunho and Mingi can go make out behind a barrel, and we can't boo?" Wooyoung shoots back, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he tilts his head toward the far corner of the yard.
San's brow furrows as he glances over, realizing the two are nowhere to be found. The six of them watch as he strides over to the stack of barrels and disappears behind them for a moment. A sigh echoes across the yard before San emerges, pulling Yunho up by the collar.
"You're supposed to be teaching him how to use a sword, not how to make out," San scolds, his voice stern, though there's a faint trace of exasperation beneath it. Wooyoung watches with delight as Yunho's pale face turns beet red, clearly flustered as he stumbles away, trying to regain his composure.
"I wanted to bring up something serious, but it seems my guards are too busy down each other's throats," San huffs, though he knows Mingi isn't technically one of his guards.
"Don't pretend you wouldn't do the same with Young-ah," Seonghwa chimes in, a teasing glint in his eyes as he raises his eyebrows at San.
"You do not call him that," San snaps, the words coming out harsher than intended.
"Relax, San," Wooyoung smiles, a playful smirk on his lips. "What did you want to talk about?"
"And is it a workshop conversation?" Hongjoong poses, knowing full well that discussing their relationship in public is a precarious endeavor.
San takes a breath, his expression shifting as he gathers his thoughts.
"I've posed lenient laws on magic. The council is a bit unsettled at the idea, but they're alright with it." He hesitates, glancing around as if to ensure no one else is listening. "I am... posing the idea of a court mage."
The air thickens with the weight of San's words. Wooyoung watches as the others process the information, their expressions shifting from casual curiosity to something more serious. Seonghwa's eyebrows knit together in thought, while Hongjoong leans forward, clearly intrigued.
"A court mage?" Jongho asks, his voice low and cautious. "What does that mean for us?"
"It means," San replies, his tone steadying, "That we'll need to ensure our magic is used responsibly, especially with the council watching closely. A court mage would have a significant influence, and I want to be sure it's someone who will use that power wisely." He looks directly at Wooyoung, a flicker of hope in his gaze.
Wooyoung feels a rush of emotion, the gravity of San's proposal settling in.
"You want me to be that mage?" he asks, disbelief creeping into his voice.
San nods, his expression earnest.
"I believe you have the skill and the heart for it, Wooyoung. But I also know it comes with a lot of responsibility. I wouldn't want you to take it lightly."
A mixture of pride and anxiety fills Wooyoung. The weight of such a title is overwhelming, but the thought of serving alongside San in such a capacity stirs something deep within him.
"It's a big decision," he murmurs, glancing around at the others for support.
"You'd be amazing," Yeosang chimes in, his eyes bright with encouragement. "And your three years you spent north could lend you a hand in convincing the council."
"The letters," Wooyoung looks up at San, realization dawning on him. "Is that why you kept them? To make a place for me at your council?"
San's expression shifts, the corners of his mouth tightening as he hesitates.
"If you don't want it, I'll find another mage," he insists, his voice firm but tinged with uncertainty. "But... given that you worked previously in the castle and under my father, it may work in your favor."
Wooyoung feels a swell of emotions at San's words. The thought of a court mage's position is both thrilling and daunting.
"You've really thought this through, haven't you?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "I never imagined you'd consider me for something like this."
San nods, his gaze steady as he meets Wooyoung's eyes. "I trust you, Young-ah. Your magic is powerful, and your heart is even stronger. You care about our people and their well-being. That's what the council needs."
The warmth of San's belief envelops Wooyoung, making the prospect of this role feel a little less intimidating. Yet, doubt lingers in the back of his mind.
"You sure you just don't want me by your side during those boring council meetings?" Wooyoung blinks at him, teasingly. San shifts on his feet nervously, a subtle reminder of how he only acts this way around Wooyoung.
"Maybe this is a workshop conversation," Hongjoong interjects, pressing his lips together in concern. He glances around at the others, gauging their reactions to the growing tension.
"I'll try it," Wooyoung finally sighs, a mix of apprehension and excitement coursing through him. "But I've never been good at following orders."
"We know," the entire group replies in unison, laughter erupting as they share knowing looks. The camaraderie eases Wooyoung's tension, even as his heart races at the thought of stepping into such a significant role.
"What if I'm sworn in—or whatever, and I hate it?" Wooyoung asks, his voice dropping to a softer tone. The thought of disappointing San or the council makes him uneasy, and he bites his lip, waiting for a response.
San steps closer, his expression serious yet gentle.
"Then we'll figure it out together. If it's not what you want, we'll find another path for you." Is it ever truly that simple? The sincerity in San's voice calms Wooyoung's racing thoughts. He knows that no matter how daunting the task ahead may be, he has the support of his friends—and especially San. "I just want you to be happy, whether that's as a court mage or something else entirely,"
They all head to Yeosang's workshop, knowing that the eight of them together always brings less suspicion than just Wooyoung and San. The familiar space buzzes with energy as they settle in, the scent of herbs and wood shavings filling the air, but Wooyoung and San quickly find a moment to slip away to his room.
Once inside, Wooyoung plops down on the newly replaced mattress, which has been upgraded to something much softer after he complained hard enough to San. He sinks into the bed with a contented sigh, grateful for the small comforts in his life.
San leans against the doorframe, watching Wooyoung with a mix of concern and admiration.
"You don't have to be the court mage," he offers gently, his voice steady. "If you think you won't like it, I won't bring it up again."
Wooyoung runs a hand through his hair, looking up at San.
"I'm always about trying new things," he sighs, the weight of the decision hanging heavily on his shoulders. "It's just a bunch of guys sitting around talking about stuff—boring stuff. But what's so different about council meetings?"
San steps further into the room, crossing his arms.
"You'd be representing something important. It's not just talking; it's about decisions that affect people's lives. And it could be a chance for you to influence things for the better. Plus, you're good at reading people and situations."
"Sure, but it's still politics," Wooyoung grumbles, letting himself fall back against the mattress, arms spread wide. "I'd rather be out here with you and the others, just living our lives, you know?"
"I get that," San replies, his tone softening as he approaches the bed. "But think about it—if you take this chance, you could change the way magic is viewed and handled. You could make it more accessible to those who need it."
Wooyoung closes his eyes, considering San's words. He knows he has a point, but the thought of stepping into such a formal role makes him uneasy. "What if I screw it up?"
"You won't," San reassures him, kneeling beside the bed. "You're smart, and you have a good heart. You care about people, and that's what matters. Just promise me you'll give it a fair shot."
Wooyoung opens his eyes, meeting San's gaze. "Okay, I promise I'll try. But I'm not making any guarantees about how much I'll like it."
San smiles, a mix of pride and affection lighting up his features. "That's all I ask. Just be yourself, and if it gets too much, we'll figure it out together."
"Be myself..." Wooyoung murmurs, his brow furrowing as he leans back against the mattress, staring at the ceiling. "That got me into this mess in the first place."
San narrows his eyes playfully, leaning closer. "Are you calling me a mess?"
"The king of Aurora is in my room asking me to be his little court mage—I'd call you a mess." Wooyoung lifts his gaze, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "A cute mess, but still a mess."
San chuckles, his heart warming at Wooyoung's playful banter. "You'd be paid more."
Wooyoung raises an eyebrow, his interest piqued.
"Why didn't you lead with that?" he retorts, a smirk breaking through his feigned annoyance.
"Because I wanted you to consider it for the right reasons," San replies, a lightness in his tone. "But honestly, you could use some more coin in your pocket, especially with all the plants you're trying to keep alive."
Wooyoung laughs softly, shaking his head. "It's not just about the money, San. I don't want to lose what makes this place special."
"You won't," San assures him, inching closer. "You'll always have your garden, your friends, and me. That won't change."
For a moment, they share a silence filled with unspoken understanding, the air between them crackling with warmth. Wooyoung swallows hard, feeling his heart race as he studies San's face, the way the sunlight catches the glint in his eyes.
"You really believe in me, don't you?" Wooyoung whispers, vulnerability slipping into his voice.
San's expression softens, and he nods. "Always."
In that moment, Wooyoung feels a pull, an irresistible urge to close the distance between them. He shifts, resting a hand on San's arm, his thumb brushing against the fabric of San's sleeve.
"What if I fail?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. San leans in, their faces mere inches apart.
"Then we'll figure it out together," he repeats, sincerity lacing every word. "But I don't think you will."
With a mix of anticipation and uncertainty swirling inside him, Wooyoung finds himself captivated by San's gaze. The playful banter fades away, replaced by something deeper, something that feels right.
"San..." Wooyoung breathes, and before he can think twice, he closes the gap, pressing his lips against San's.
The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as if they're both testing the waters of this new territory. Wooyoung feels San respond, melting against him, and he deepens the kiss, wrapping his arms around San's neck, pulling him closer.
San's hands find their way to Wooyoung's waist, anchoring him in place as the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of them suspended in this perfect moment of intimacy. When they finally break apart, both breathless, Wooyoung can't help but smile against San's lips.
"Okay, maybe being myself isn't such a bad thing after all," Wooyoung murmurs, a playful glint in his eyes, the warmth of their shared moment still lingering on his lips. San chuckles, the corners of his mouth lifting into a fond smile.
"I have stuff to attend to," he says, pressing his forehead into Wooyoung's, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. "I love you."
Wooyoung's heart swells at the words, a flutter of warmth spreading through him.
"Love you too, San. Now go to your meeting. I may not be your servant anymore, but someone is going to get yelled at if you're late."
San pouts, his expression exaggeratedly dramatic as he pulls back slightly, but the playful twinkle in his eyes remains. "One more."
"San," Wooyoung warns, but there's a smile tugging at his lips, betraying his resolve.
"Please, Young-ah," San implores, his voice softening into a gentle plea.
With a reluctant sigh, Wooyoung relents, feeling a rush of affection. "Fine, one more."
San leans in again, capturing Wooyoung's lips with his own, this kiss deeper and more fervent than the last. It's a kiss that speaks of longing, of unspoken promises and the weight of everything they share. Wooyoung melts into it, savoring the moment, letting himself be enveloped in the warmth of San's love.
When they finally pull apart, both slightly breathless, San runs a hand through his hair, glancing toward the door.
"I really do have to go now," he admits, a reluctant smile playing on his lips.
"Yeah, I know," Wooyoung replies, a teasing lilt to his voice.
San chuckles softly, leaning in to give Wooyoung one last quick kiss, brushing his thumb along Wooyoung's cheek as he pulls away. As San steps back, the reality of their responsibilities settles in. Wooyoung watches him, a mix of pride and affection swelling in his chest.
"Go on," he urges, giving San a gentle push toward the door. "You can't be late to your royal duties."
After San leaves, Wooyoung heads back to the shop where Yeosang is already sorting herbs and preparing ingredients. The shelves are lined with jars and bottles, each filled with remedies that have become a lifeline for the people of Aurora. As Wooyoung steps inside, the familiar scent of dried flowers, roots, and fresh herbs hits him, bringing with it a wave of comfort.
"Back to work?" Wooyoung says, his tone light as he ties back his hair, settling into the routine that's become second nature to him over the years. Yeosang nods without looking up, his hands deftly slicing some dried herbs into smaller pieces.
"The orders are piling up, and there are a few that need to be ready by tomorrow morning," he replies. There's a hint of relief in his voice when Wooyoung joins him at the table, already reaching for the pestle and mortar.
"Then let's make this quick," Wooyoung says, grinning as he holds his hand above the dried herbs. A faint glow gathers around his fingertips, and with a soft movement, the herbs crumble to the perfect consistency, filling the room with their earthy scent.
Yeosang raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment, just pushes another jar toward Wooyoung.
"You really are cheating," he says, but there's no accusation in his voice, only curiosity.
"Not cheating," Wooyoung retorts with a laugh. "It's how I did it alone for three years. Why should I struggle now?" He waves his hand, and a dozen jars float off the shelves, opening themselves as he directs each herb to its proper container. A flick of his wrist, and the right quantities of powders and liquids pour into the mixtures. Another gentle motion, and the ingredients blend smoothly, as if stirred by invisible hands.
"It's... efficient," Yeosang admits, his gaze following the dancing jars, his hands now free to prepare the more delicate elements.
"That's one way to put it," Wooyoung teases, though there's an unmistakable warmth in his chest. It's rare for anyone to see him use his magic like this. For so long, it had been something he kept hidden, an ability too dangerous to display openly. But now, here in the shop, with Yeosang by his side, it feels almost normal—like their kids making magic lanterns in the dead of night.
Magic in Aurora had been a delicate topic for years. Only in the privacy of homes or businesses was it permitted, and even then, many still whispered of its dangers, its risks. Wooyoung is sure he's the only one in Aurora who wields it with such ease. But then, he's also sure he's the reason the law was changed. It had to be San who pushed for it—San who must have convinced the council that magic didn't have to be something to fear, that it could be a force for good.
He doesn't voice any of this aloud, not even to Yeosang. Instead, he continues to work, letting the jars, herbs, and powders dance around them. Soon, a rhythm settles between them, and the piles of ingredients shrink as the shelves fill up with completed remedies. It's faster than it's ever been—faster than it had any right to be—and Wooyoung can't help but smile.
"Look at that," he says, stepping back to admire their work. "Done in half the time."
Yeosang looks up at him, a faint smile on his lips. "If you'd let me, I'd have you here every day."
Wooyoung chuckles. "I'd get bored."
"No, you wouldn't," Yeosang replies with a knowing look.
Wooyoung doesn't answer, just nods. He waves a hand to send the empty jars back to their places, neatly aligning them on the shelves. There's a quiet satisfaction in the simple motion, in the way things move smoothly under his control.
"Come on," Wooyoung says, brushing his hands together. "Let's get these labeled before someone comes in asking for the fever tonic. I don't want to explain why their cough syrup is glowing."
Yeosang laughs, the sound light and genuine, and Wooyoung can't help but join in.