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When Prince Riki turned seventeen, his soulmark appeared in the middle of his torso.
It was already glowing. A soft, pulsing rainbow, shimmering like sunlight on water. It was beautiful, but also confusing. Why was it already glowing rainbow? Soulmarks were supposed to start out black, and they would only turn rainbow if touched by the person’s soulmate.
His advisors had stared in shock. His tutors had rushed for scrolls. One of the court physicians had knelt, squinting at it as if the answer might lie in the color. But Riki knew the answer before anyone even said it. He knew exactly what it meant.
“It means you already met your soulmate and touched,” the healer had explained, “likely in passing, perhaps as a child. It happens, on occasion. It means they’re alive. But you must have already met.”
Riki stared at the mark in silence, feeling overwhelmingly sad.
He didn’t remember.
No moment of magic. No dramatic encounter. Just a mark that glowed quietly against his skin. He’d already met them, and he had no clue. He might never see them again.
That ruined Riki’s entire life.
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When he turned twenty, Sunghoon was assigned as his personal guard. He was tall, calm, and impossibly steady.
Riki, quiet by nature, was used to being alone in a room, even when others were there. It was a lonely life, but it was all Riki had ever known. But Sunghoon was different. He filled the space without intruding on it. He moved like he belonged near Riki, like he was born to stand at his side. Like he was worthy of being Riki’s equal. Riki had never had an equal before.
Riki fell in love within a month.
He tried not to. He really tried not to. But nothing ever goes Riki’s way.
Sunghoon never flinched at his silences. He understood what Riki meant with a glance, with a breath. He watched the world like a hawk but looked at Riki like he mattered. It was more overwhelming than anything Riki had ever experienced.
There was only one problem.
Riki had already met his soulmate, and having never seen Sunghoon’s mark, he had no idea if Sunghoon was his soulmate. So he kept quiet about his feelings, no matter how agonizing it was to pine.
⋆.˚🦋༘⋆
It wasn’t until one afternoon during the summer that Riki saw it. He saw it by accident, during training, when Sunghoon removed his gloves and rolled up his sleeves. The soft light of the soulmate mark shimmed just below his wrist, quiet and undeniable.
Riki stared, heart crumbling in his chest. Sunghoon’s mark was lit up, but their marks didn’t match up. Riki’s was a mark on his bicep. They didn’t fit.
They didn’t fit.
It couldn’t be him. Sunghoon wasn’t Riki’s soulmate.
⋆.˚🦋༘⋆
He never mentioned it. Not a word.
He cherished what they had. The moments of laughter, the rare smiles, and the warmth of Sunghoon’s presence beside him, even if it could never be more. But oh how he wished it could be more.
He imagined Sunghoon’s soulmate. It had to be someone kind, someone lucky. Someone who had brushed past him in a marketplace, or helped him up when he fell, or handed him a flower as a child. It would be someone beautiful, much prettier than Riki. That was the least Sunghoon deserved.
Someone who wasn’t Riki.
And so, the years passed, quietly aching.
Until one spring afternoon, during a diplomatic visit to a village at the border between kingdoms, something changed.
They were walking through the town square, flanked by banners and crowds. It was a festival, celebrating something Riki hadn’t been paying attention to. The festivities were loud and Riki was tired, but he was going to enjoy himself as much as he could. They continued through the village, then Riki paused at a fountain. An old one, weathered with moss, the edge crumbling slightly.
He tilted his head. “This looks familiar.” He’d definitely been there before.
Sunghoon turned beside him, a curious look on his face. Riki loved when his face showed emotions other than stoic boredom. “You’ve been here before?”
Riki frowned. “Once. I was… seven? Maybe eight. My father brought me on a goodwill visit. There was a festival, just like this one. I think they were celebrating the spring equinox. I remember- I was standing by the fountain waiting for my father to finish with whatever he was doing.”
Sunghoon blinked. “I remember that festival too.”
Riki looked over at him, one eyebrow raised.
Sunghoon’s brows furrowed. “I was here with my mother. She was working at one of the food stalls.”
Riki’s heart stuttered. “That time… I was knocked over by another boy. He came running at me and tripped hard. He slammed right into me. We both fell by this fountain. He took my hand and pulled me to my feet. He had dimples and bright eyes and… a red scarf.”
Sunghoon went very still.
“I had a red scarf,” He said quietly. “I wore it for three winters straight.”
They both stared at each other.
The world seemed to hush.
“You-” Sunghoon’s voice caught. “You’re the one I fell into.”
“I was.”
“I touched you first.”
“I touched you back.”
Their gazes dropped, both of them looking at their marks that had never stopped shining since the day they met.
Not when they were children.
Not when they were reintroduced.
Not through all the years of silence and misunderstanding. Riki laughed, quiet and breathless and a little broken. “We didn’t even know.”
Sunghoon smiled, eyes soft. “We already knew. Somewhere, I think… we always did. At least, I did. I wanted it to be true.”
Riki couldn’t believe his ears. “I wanted it to be true too. You have no idea how many days I hoped.”
Sunghoon laughed quietly. “If it’s as many days as I did, I think I can imagine it.”
That night, for the first time, Riki reached for Sunghoon’s hand on purpose.
The marks flared between them like stars coming home.