Chapter Text
Wooyoung's collar presses uncomfortably against his neck, a bit too snug as it digs into his chin. He shifts slightly, wondering how Yeosang even convinced him to wear such an elaborate outfit. His black hair is freshly trimmed, still long enough to brush his shoulders but neat, manageable. The deep blue fabric of his jacket catches the light, threads of silver stitching glinting faintly along the edges. It feels strange, being this dressed up, but somehow it suits him.
Yeosang stands on his left, composed as ever. His clothes are even finer, cut to perfection, accentuating his poise. There's something quietly regal about the way he holds himself, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his gaze remains steady and focused.
To Wooyoung's right, Mingi fidgets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, glancing around as if unsure what to do with his hands. Despite the formal attire, Mingi can't quite mask his energy, and Wooyoung catches a hint of his usual grin lurking just below the surface.
The crowd around them murmurs with anticipation, all eyes fixed on the grand stone platform at the front of the courtyard, where Seonghwa and Hongjoong are set to be knighted. The knights-to-be stand at attention, clad in ceremonial armor that glints in the sunlight, catching everyone's gaze. The courtyard is filled with nobility and townsfolk alike, drawn by the promise of the ceremony. Banners hang from the tall stone pillars, fluttering gently in the breeze, each bearing the crest of the kingdom.
Wooyoung watches as the scene unfolds, intrigued but out of his depth. He's never seen a knighting ceremony before; it's not something he knows much about. Still, seeing the pride and reverence in the crowd, he feels the weight of the moment. It's clear that for everyone gathered here, this is a rare and honored event.
"I'm hot," Wooyoung murmurs, tugging slightly at his collar, the summer heat pressing down on him. It's close to San's birthday, the start of the hottest season, and the heavy fabric clings uncomfortably to his skin.
"Use your magic to keep yourself cool," Yeosang says quietly, barely glancing his way, his attention fixed on the ceremony preparations.
Wooyoung gives him a sidelong glare. "You said not to cause a scene," he retorts, voice low but teasing.
Eventually, the announcement rings out, calling everyone to rise for the king and queen. Wooyoung stands, lowering his head in a gesture of respect, but his gaze drifts, finding San amidst the crowd.
San is dressed in pure white, his figure striking against the colors around him. Atop his head rests a golden crown, shining in the sunlight as he strides forward with practiced poise. Wooyoung knows that keeping that crown steady as he walks is no small feat, yet San moves with a steady grace, as if it belongs there, every inch the prince he's meant to be. Beside him, the queen glides in a lavish purple dress, intricate embroidery catching the light with each step.
But Wooyoung's attention never wavers from San. He looks so serious, his expression unreadable, eyes focused and unwavering as he approaches Seonghwa and Hongjoong. The two await him at the front of the platform, clad in ceremonial armor, their white cloaks draped across their shoulders. Even from a distance, Wooyoung can feel the gravity of the moment, the way San carries himself—strong, resolute, somehow distant yet familiar all at once.
San steps up onto the platform, the weight of the ceremony settling over the courtyard in a thick, reverent silence. He stands tall, gaze moving between Seonghwa and Hongjoong, both of whom bow deeply before him. In that moment, San seems every bit the prince Wooyoung's come to know—calm, composed, his seriousness casting a solemn air over the proceedings.
With deliberate movements, San draws the ceremonial sword, a gleaming blade etched with intricate symbols that catch the light. He turns to Seonghwa first, his expression softening just slightly. Wooyoung catches a flicker of something in San's eyes—a mixture of pride and respect—as he raises the sword.
"In the name of the kingdom of Aurora, and with the honor of my family," San's voice carries over the silent crowd, strong and unwavering, "I knight thee, Sir Seonghwa."
The blade touches Seonghwa's shoulder, first the left, then the right, before San steps back, nodding once in acknowledgment.
San then turns to Hongjoong, and the same ritual unfolds. His voice is steady, his gaze resolute, as he pronounces,
"In the name of the kingdom of Aurora, and with the honor of my family, I knight thee, Sir Hongjoong."
The sword glides lightly against each of Hongjoong's shoulders, marking him with the same solemn reverence.
When San sheathes the sword, the crowd erupts into applause. Seonghwa and Hongjoong rise, now knights of the realm, and for a brief moment, Wooyoung catches the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of San's lips before his expression returns to its practiced calm.
As the crowd breaks into applause, Wooyoung's cheer rings out louder than all the rest.
"Yes! That's what I'm talking about!" he hollers, his voice carrying far above the dignified claps and murmurs.
A few heads turn, and Yeosang nudges him with a sharp look, muttering, "Keep it down, Wooyoung."
But Wooyoung only grins, cupping his hands around his mouth and calling out even louder, "Let's go, Seonghwa! Let's go, Hongjoong!"
Amused but clearly apologetic, Hongjoong glances at the royal family, bowing his head slightly as he says,
"I do apologize, Your Majesty." His voice is steady, but Wooyoung catches the slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Even Seonghwa's stoic composure cracks, his lips quirking upward just a little as he resists the urge to laugh.
San's gaze briefly meets Wooyoung's, and though he's trying to keep a straight face, there's a flash of warmth in his eyes, like he wouldn't expect anything less from Wooyoung.
As San and the queen make their way down the grand staircase, the crowd parts in respectful silence, bowing low as they pass. San maintains his stoic expression, eyes forward, but Wooyoung watches the faint weight on his shoulders, a reminder of the responsibility he bears. When they finally disappear from view, Wooyoung lets out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, and in an instant, he's dashing toward Seonghwa and Hongjoong, excitement lighting up his face.
"My knights," he greets them, adopting an exaggerated tone as he tries to stand just a little taller. "Does this mean I have to start taking orders from you two now?"
Hongjoong crosses his arms, looking entirely unimpressed. "You don't even take orders from the king, Wooyoung. Why would that start now?"
Wooyoung lets out a bark of laughter, throwing an arm around Hongjoong's shoulders as they walk. "And I don't lose to him in cards, either."
Seonghwa, who had been adjusting his new cloak, glances over, amusement dancing in his eyes. "That's because he refuses to play with you."
Wooyoung pouts dramatically, but it's short-lived as he perks up again. "So, what's the plan? Celebrating with a card game?"
Hongjoong gives him a look, a smirk forming on his lips.
"No," he says, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "We're going hunting."
Wooyoung freezes, his face scrunching up.
"Hunting?" He repeats, incredulous. "Why on earth would we go hunting?"
Behind him, Yunho's voice joins in, equal parts amused and curious. "Wait, has Wooyoung really never been hunting?"
"Never with us," Hongjoong replies, his gaze playful. "And it's about time, don't you think?"
Wooyoung sighs, as if the weight of the world has just been placed on his shoulders, though there's a gleam in his eyes that says he's more excited than he lets on.
"I swear, if I end up muddy and bruised, I'm making you all suffer."
Seonghwa chuckles, clapping him on the shoulder. "Consider it your first knightly duty."
The carriages are luxurious, trimmed with silver along their frames, polished until they gleam in the afternoon light. Wooyoung settles himself into a plush seat lined with deep purple velvet, glancing around at the opulent interior with raised eyebrows. Across from him sit Yeosang, Mingi, and Yunho, each looking far more comfortable than Wooyoung feels. The carriage rocks gently as it pulls away, rolling smoothly over the cobbled streets toward the forest.
"So, what's so special about hunting?" Wooyoung crosses his arms, frowning as he tries to make sense of their sudden celebration plans. Yeosang gives him a knowing look, one corner of his mouth lifting.
"The fact that I'm going should tell you we aren't really hunting," he says dryly, but Wooyoung just blinks, clearly not catching on.
"They were knighted... it makes sense we're celebrating," Wooyoung replies, narrowing his eyes. "That's all there is to it, right?"
Mingi raises a brow, fixing Wooyoung with a skeptical stare. "You're not that dumb."
"I think we shouldn't tell him," Yunho says, leaning back with a shrug, amusement glinting in his eyes.
Wooyoung scoffs, sitting up straighter.
"Or, I could make you tell me," he challenges, voice dropping playfully as he leans forward.
Yunho raises a brow, unbothered. "And where's your fun in that? Patience, Wooyoung."
"This is completely unfair," Wooyoung complains, his gaze darting to Yeosang, clearly hoping for backup. "You can't keep secrets from me."
Yeosang just sighs, resting his chin on his hand.
"It's not a secret," he replies calmly. "You'll find out soon enough."
Wooyoung huffs, his curiosity gnawing at him. The mystery gnaws at him even as the carriage rocks steadily onward, his mind racing with possibilities. And from the faint, knowing smiles of his friends, he knows it's bound to be something unforgettable.
"Can I at least know where we're going?" Wooyoung tries, leaning forward with that familiar spark of impatience.
"North." Yeosang's gaze is steady, unimpressed.
Wooyoung blinks, and a hint of recognition flashes across his face. North means the cottage—his cottage. The small place he used to live, tucked away in the woods, miles from any town or castle. It's a quiet, hidden place, far removed from the grandeur and politics of the royal court. But that still doesn't explain why they're all headed there together.
"Is San coming?" Wooyoung furrows his brows, the idea not sitting quite right with him.
"Yes," Mingi replies with a nod, crossing his arms as if to prepare for Wooyoung's inevitable barrage of questions.
"That doesn't make any sense." Wooyoung sits up straighter, eyes darting between them. "The king wouldn't just go hunting with his closest friends. I mean, he would, but San's never cared about hunting unless it's for some royal event or—"
He stops short, realization dawning as he studies Yeosang's faintly amused expression.
"There it is." Yeosang's smile widens, his expression pleased.
Wooyoung's gaze flicks between the three of them, his mind whirring as he pieces things together. "So... it's a cover-up. For what?"
"Now that we definitely can't tell you," Yunho says, leaning back with a grin that practically dares Wooyoung to keep guessing.
Wooyoung huffs, crossing his arms as the carriage bumps along the road, each mile only stoking his curiosity. He's itching to know what they're all hiding from him, but even as he tries to pry more from his friends, they remain tight-lipped, their amusement growing by the minute.
Wooyoung shifts uncomfortably in his seat, tugging at his collar again as the carriage sways gently. The heat of the summer sun is stifling, and the fabric feels more constricting with every passing moment. He glances out the window at the blur of trees whizzing by, the landscape becoming familiar. If we're heading north, he thinks, I could just take this off anyway.
"Stay in your clothes," Yeosang interjects, his tone firm but light.
"Why?" Wooyoung narrows his eyes at him, a mixture of confusion and annoyance flashing across his face. "I don't need nice clothes heading north—or anywhere outside of Aurora."
"Just keep it on," Yunho encourages, though his voice carries a teasing note that only heightens Wooyoung's irritation.
"I don't like this." Wooyoung continues to tug at the collar, pulling it back and forth as if weighing the pros and cons of his discomfort. "You're all being weird."
Mingi glances at the other two, an eyebrow raised. "Can we at least give him a hint?"
Yeosang shrugs, unfazed. "San said not to."
Wooyoung's head snaps back to them, disbelief written all over his face.
"Wait—San told you directly?" His tone shifts from playful to serious, curiosity piqued by the idea that San might be orchestrating something behind the scenes.
"Yeah," Yeosang replies, his expression casual, but Wooyoung can sense the underlying excitement.
"Since when does San keep secrets from me?" Wooyoung's voice rises slightly, and he shoots a look of faux betrayal at Yunho. "Why is everyone acting like this is no big deal?"
"It's not that we don't want to tell you," Yunho says, trying to placate him. "It's just... San has his reasons, and we're trying to respect that."
Wooyoung crosses his arms, glaring at his friends. The air in the carriage feels charged with anticipation, and he can't shake the feeling that something big is happening, something he's being intentionally kept out of.
"This isn't fair," he mutters, leaning back in his seat, still tugging at his collar as they continue their journey north.
The carriage rolls to a stop, the familiar sounds of the forest surrounding them—a symphony of rustling leaves and chirping birds. Wooyoung shifts nervously in his seat, the anticipation hanging thick in the air. When Yunho opens the door, he's surprised to see only Mingi being allowed out before the door swings shut again, trapping him inside.
"What the hell, Yeosang?" Wooyoung turns sharply to face him, confusion and frustration bubbling to the surface. "Why can't I get out?"
"Don't cry," Yeosang says suddenly, his voice steady yet laced with concern. "And don't freak out."
Wooyoung's eyes widen.
"I'm freaking out now. Why are we even north, and why can't I be let out?" He gestures to the closed door, feeling the weight of being left out of whatever is unfolding outside. The fact that Yeosang is the one babysitting him only heightens his unease.
"They need time," Yeosang replies, pressing his lips together, an expression of quiet worry crossing his face.
"For what?" Wooyoung huffs, crossing his arms and leaning back against the plush seat, frustration simmering just beneath the surface.
"Stuff," Yeosang replies vaguely, his demeanor more serious than usual.
"Yeosang." Wooyoung narrows his eyes, the name escaping him like a challenge. "What kind of 'stuff'?"
Yeosang glances toward the door, as if listening for something beyond it, his expression contemplative. "Just... give them a moment. You'll understand soon enough. I promise."
Wooyoung's frown deepens, his heart racing with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. The thought of being kept in the dark while something significant happens just outside the carriage fills him with a sense of foreboding. He fidgets, pulling at his collar once more, the fabric suddenly feeling constricting and stifling.
"This isn't fair," he mutters, glancing out the window, trying to catch a glimpse of what's happening. But all he sees are the trees swaying gently in the breeze, the world outside untouched by the tension building within the carriage.
"Is it a good surprise?" Wooyoung murmurs, his tone laced with a mix of curiosity and frustration. He crosses his arms tighter over his chest, the plush seat feeling increasingly uncomfortable. "I'm having a really great time just sitting here, waiting."
"You'll be alright," Yeosang sighs, his patience evident, though Wooyoung can see the flicker of concern in his eyes.
"I will be, but I'm gonna complain the entire time," Wooyoung retorts, unable to hide the pout forming on his lips. He shifts again, trying to find a comfortable position, but it's futile.
Just as the air grows thick with tension, a sudden knock on the carriage door startles him, making him jump slightly in his seat. The sound echoes in the enclosed space, and he turns wide-eyed to Yeosang, who moves to open the door.
"Don't cry," Yeosang says, a hint of amusement mixed with seriousness in his voice.
"I'll do whatever I want." Wooyoung shoots back, feeling a mix of defiance and anxiety bubbling up inside him. He grips the edges of his seat, trying to steady himself as Yeosang pulls the door open.
Sunlight floods in, illuminating the interior of the carriage and casting long shadows as Mingi reappears at the door, his expression bright with excitement.
"You can come out now." he calls, a grin spreading across his face.
"Finally." Wooyoung exclaims, practically springing from his seat. He brushes past Yeosang, eager to escape the confines of the carriage and discover what surprise awaits him. As he steps out, he squints against the light, taking in the sight before him.
The forest opens up into a clearing, and there, set against the backdrop of tall, ancient trees, is a charming cottage that Wooyoung recognizes immediately—the place he used to call home. A mix of nostalgia and confusion washes over him as he stands on the threshold, his heart racing with questions.
"What are we doing here?" he asks, turning to look at Yeosang, Mingi, and Yunho, who now stands beside them, his expression warm and inviting.
"Just trust us," Mingi replies, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "You'll see."
Mingi and Yeosang guide Wooyoung around to a corner of the cottage, the air buzzing with excitement. As they reach the side of the house, Mingi suddenly dashes off, his laughter echoing through the trees. Wooyoung turns to watch him go, but before he can follow, Yeosang gently holds him in place.
"Give me your ring," Yeosang says, his tone serious yet calm.
"Absolutely not." Wooyoung's response is immediate, instinctual, as if the mere suggestion is absurd.
"Wooyoung." Yeosang tilts his head, a hint of exasperation creeping into his voice.
"No, that's a hard limit. I'm not giving it up." Wooyoung stands firm, arms crossed defiantly over his chest, determined not to budge. Yeosang groans, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration.
"San said this would happen," he mutters, half to himself.
"Tell me what's going on," Wooyoung presses, his brows knitting together as he studies Yeosang's expression. The air between them feels charged, and he senses that something important is at stake.
"Just give me your ring," Yeosang insists again, softer this time, almost pleading.
"No," Wooyoung replies, shaking his head firmly. He can feel his heart pounding, both from anticipation and a growing sense of protectiveness over the small piece of jewelry that feels so significant to him.
"Wooyoung," Yeosang says, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. There's a weight behind his words, and Wooyoung can see the determination in Yeosang's eyes, but he's not ready to yield.
"Why do you need it? What's the purpose?" Wooyoung challenges, his tone growing more defensive, heart racing as he stands his ground.
"I'll show you, but you can't say I didn't try to keep it a surprise," Yeosang sighs, exasperation creeping into his voice. "San would have my head if I ruined this."
"Just tell me." Wooyoung huffs, feeling the tension between them like a tightrope ready to snap.
Before he can protest further, Yeosang grabs him by the shoulders, his grip firm but not unkind, and turns him to face the other side of the cottage.
With a hesitant breath, Wooyoung glances around the corner. What he sees stops him cold.
San stands beneath a small archway made of wood, intricately painted white with delicate purple swirls that perfectly complement his outfit from the knighting ceremony. But this isn't a royal occasion; the air is thick with something far more intimate and personal. Sunlight filters through the trees, casting a warm glow around him, making the moment feel almost surreal.
As Wooyoung's gaze locks onto San, his heart thunders in his chest. A wave of emotions crashes over him—joy, confusion, fear—all battling for dominance.
As the realization sinks in, panic sets in, wrapping around Wooyoung like a vise. His heart pounds in his chest, quickening with every breath as he instinctively retreats behind the corner of the cottage. He presses his back against the rough wooden siding, his wide eyes betraying the fear that riddles his bones. The image of San standing under the archway feels overwhelming, and Wooyoung's thoughts spiral with uncertainty.
"Give me your ring," Yeosang urges, holding out his hand, his expression a mixture of determination and reassurance.
Wooyoung swallows hard, glancing from Yeosang's outstretched palm to the spot where San stands, uncertainty gnawing at him. With a deep breath, he nods, his fingers instinctively reaching up to pull the leather necklace over his head. The weight of the intricately carved bone ring feels heavy in his palm, a tangible reminder of the connection it represents.
He hesitates for a heartbeat, then snaps the cord with his own hands, placing the ring into Yeosang's open palm. The action feels monumental, as if he's surrendering a piece of himself, and yet he knows he'll get it back soon enough.
"Now, do you want to walk with me or alone?" Yeosang asks, his voice steady and calming, cutting through Wooyoung's rising anxiety.