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Chapter Text

“….Is it finally time?” 

“Yes. But we have to hurry. I need to leave before somebody discovers I’m here.”

“Don’t worry about that. No one has been here all afternoon. I think we’re safe from any unwanted guests.” 

“You say that now, but what about San? He comes to see you all the time. Maybe he’s even right outside the door as we speak.” 

“….I suppose you’re right. I just wish…” 

“I know. But we’ve tried talking to him, Yeosang. This is our only solution. The only way we can ever be free. Now please, drink. I’ll be waiting for you once you’re awake.”  

“…Do you promise?” 

“I promise. Always and forever, just like we planned…” 

Chapter Text

The castle was ablaze with activity as San walked through its sun-lit corridors, passing through amber rays that streamed through the windows and casted the floors in layers of gold. He greeted several servants throughout his journey, not to mention a handful of councilmen, and they all greeted him with smiles before wishing him a prosperous marriage. It was a sentiment that San had heard often since his engagement to Yeosang, the second born prince of the Bluebird Isles, and yet it never failed to make him smile. 

And in truth, who could blame him? Yeosang was everything a good consort should be. He was gracious and kind, clever and witty, with a strong sense of duty to his crown and country. He was also quite beautiful with his wide doe eyes and shimmering black hair, and lips the shade of a soft summer rose whose petals had only just begun to bloom. 

San had dreamt of kissing those lips ever since the first day they met, when he and Yeosang were nothing more than two strangers attending the same royal ball. But look at them now! They were actually engaged, with their wedding only a fortnight away! It was the perfect fairytale end to their story, and everything that San could have ever hoped for. 

…Well, except for the part where Yeosang didn’t love him. 

A shadowy haze passed over San’s features, but he brushed it aside and continued on, determined not to dwell on such thoughts. Yeosang may not hold any love for him now, but San was confident that he could win him over. He just needed to be patient. There was no rush. 

Moving through a doorway flanked by tall pillars, San walked through a corridor of marble and gold with dozens of tapestries decorating the walls. This particular wing of the palace belonged to the royal consort, and San had insisted quite early on that Yeosang make himself at home in its halls. It was his by right, after all. Why shouldn’t he live there? And while Yeosang had disagreed at first, citing no need for such a large space, the desire for privacy and a personal safe haven eventually managed to change his mind. Now he spent practically every free moment there, and San had no choice but to come visit if he ever wanted to see him. 

It was a small price to pay, of course. All that mattered was Yeosang’s happiness. 

Far off in the distance a noise suddenly caught San’s attention, and when he turned the corner he spotted a familiar figure standing at the end of the hall, his arms laden with bolts of pink silk that caught the light and shimmered like jewels. 

“…Jongho? What on earth are you doing here, cousin?” 

Jongho froze in place and stared at San, seeming to momentarily lose track of himself before he gestured to the silks with his head and slowly stepped back towards the wall. “The royal seamstresses asked me to bring these to Yeosang. They’re for his wedding clothes. He needs to choose a fabric soon if they’re going to finish in time, unless he plans to be wed in the nude.”   

“Ah. Right. I suppose that makes sense. But I’m surprised they asked the Captain of the Royal Guard to handle such a trivial task. They could’ve just summoned a maid instead.” San laughed it off though and closed the distance between them, reaching out to touch the fine silks as they glimmered enticingly against his tan skin. “Beautiful. With fabrics like these, Yeosang shouldn’t have any trouble making a choice!” He patted Jongho on the shoulder and then turned towards the door, its exterior carved to resemble a bird nestled within a thicket of branches, each of them painted a radiant gold and studded all over with tiny green jewels. “Well, since we’re both here, why don’t we go see him together?”

Jongho grimaced and glanced at the door, uncertainty flickering across his round face. “…Of course, cousin. As you wish.” He fell in line without another word, still awkwardly balancing the bolts of material as metal clinked against the pink silk. Seeing as how his hands were preoccupied, San took it upon himself to knock politely on the door before turning the handle to let them both in—

Except it didn’t work. 

“Huh? What the…?” San furrowed his brows and tried it again, but the door stubbornly refused to budge, apparently frozen in place within its gilt cage. 

That…wasn’t normal. Yeosang never locked his door, even though he possessed the only key to these rooms. There was no need, after all, since San had always respected his privacy! So why start now? 

“San? What’s wrong?” Jongho stepped up beside him with a frown, carefully readjusting his precarious bundle. “Did the door do something to offend you, cousin?” 

“No, of course not. It’s just locked,” San muttered, trying the handle for a third time before he pressed his ear up to the door. He couldn’t hear anything on the other side, just a dull, eerie quiet that turned his blood cold.  

“Jongho…go get the guards,” San muttered, making his cousin do a double take. 

“The guards? Why? What’s going on?” 

“I don’t know. But something’s wrong, I can feel it. We need to get inside of there NOW.” 

“Now—? San, take a breath. You’re overreacting,” Jongho soothed, but San was in no mood to be placated like a child. He pushed Jongho aside and rammed his shoulder against the door, the glossy wood shuddering with a soft, creaky groan. It held fast though, so San did it again, and again, and AGAIN, until the door hinges twisted and pulled away from the wall, cracking the frame all the way down to the floor. 

“Wha—San! What the hell are you doing,” Jongho shouted, his dulcet tones rapidly rising in pitch. “This is Yeosang’s private space! You can’t just barge in!!” 

Normally San would agree with his cousin, but he couldn’t bring himself to care right now. He shoved the door open and rushed into the sitting room of Yeosang’s apartments, where nothing but silence reached out to greet him. Even the fireplace was cold and lifeless, the logs resting under a layer of soot that was at least half an inch thick. So Yeosang hadn’t bothered to tend to them recently…despite the fact that he preferred to be warm. 

This realization only enhanced San’s anxiety, and he yelled for his fiancé as loud as he could, allowing his voice to bounce off the stone walls. “Yeosang?! Are you here?!” 

“San, calm down! He probably just stepped out,” Jongho huffed, setting his bundle down on a table with another soft and musical clink. 

“Stepped out? Stepped out where,” San snapped, gesturing to the now ruined door. “Yeosang never leaves his rooms, Jongho! You know that as well as I do!”Which meant that he was obviously still here, either sleeping or…something else. 

The thought made San positively quiver with fear, and he rushed towards a hall that led off from the parlor, ignoring the sound of Jongho’s sharp yell. 

“San! San, wait!! You can’t go that way! Yeosang’s bedroom is down there!” 

San knew that. Of course he knew that! But now wasn’t the time for proper decorum. Not when something was so clearly WRONG. So he drowned Jongho out and ran down the hall, practically tearing his way through the pale curtains that hung from the doorway like gauzy pink shrouds. The royal consort’s bedchamber was directly behind them, a lavish room decorated in satin and velvet and lit by three windows with stained glass panes. Their beauty was utterly lost on San though, because within the kaleidoscope of jewel toned hues lay a figure sprawled out on the floor with his back facing the bedroom door. 

“—Yeosang?!?!” San dropped like a stone beside Yeosang’s body and released a visceral and horrified scream. “Oh gods, what happened to you?! Please, wake up!”

Yeosang didn’t wake up. He didn’t even flinch. He just laid there like a beautiful but lifeless porcelain doll, completely motionless except for the slow rise and fall of his chest up and down. 

So he was still breathing. Good. But if that was the case, then why wouldn’t he wake?! 

“San!! What’s happening?! What are you—OH!” Jongho rushed through the doorway and then stopped dead, his lips parting ever so slightly before they shuttered into a thin line. “Yeosang….is he…?” 

“I don’t know! But he won’t wake up,” San sobbed, moving to slide both arms underneath his limp form so he could pick Yeosang up and cradle him close. 

“San, wait!!” Jongho grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him back, causing Yeosang’s dark waves to tumble over his face as one of his hands slumped down to the floor. “Don’t touch him! We have no idea what caused this, remember? Moving him might make things worse!” 

“But—”

“SAN. Listen to me,” Jongho barked, crouching beside him with a fierce glare. “If you want to help Yeosang, then you need to go find the royal physician. He’s the only one who can tell us what’s wrong with him!” 

“The royal physician,” San repeated, slowly coming back to his senses with a ragged gulp of air. “Yes…of course. You’re absolutely right!” He jumped to his feet and then wavered in place, not wanting to leave his fiancé alone. “But…Yeosang…” 

“I’ll stay with him. Now GO,” Jongho snapped, and San was helpless but to obey, flying out of the room in a flurry of silk as panic burned a hole through his veins.   

Jongho was right. There was no time to waste! Yeosang’s life could be counting on him! 

Chapter Text

Hours passed, and Yeosang had been seen by not only the royal physician, but every single sorcerer that lived in the palace. They’d inspected him carefully, finding traces of liquid on his soft pink lips, and had finally come to the conclusion that he’d fallen victim to some kind of poison, although none of them could say precisely what kind…nor if Yeosang would ever wake up. 

This news was completely devastating to San, and he refused to accept it as reality. So, he summoned the one person who could potentially tell him more; a sorcerer who was rumored to live at the edge of his kingdom and apparently wielded a dark arsenal of spells. 

Everyone warned him against doing this, of course. It was dangerous! It was risky!! It was insane!!! Even Jongho spoke out loudly against him, although this, to San, made perfect sense. As Captain of the Royal Guard, Jongho had a duty to protect the realm from any potential threat, be it physical or magically sourced. But San refused to listen to him. Yeosang’s life was in danger! He had to do something. 

This decision, thankfully, worked in his favor. The sorcerer arrived just after nightfall, and he was quickly led to Yeosang’s chambers, a tiny wraith shrouded in black with a shock of white hair half burnt to coal. San had never seen anyone like him before, nor the tall figure who moved beside him, an androgynous beauty dressed in dark silk who silently stepped up to the bed where Yeosang had been laid and inspected his face with a grim look.  

“So beautiful…and to think, entire countries have toppled over faces like this.”

San frowned and stared at the stranger, subconsciously moving closer to the bed. “I’m sorry, but you are…?” 

“Seonghwa. My partner. Please feel free to ignore him, My Prince. He doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.” The shorter man shot Seonghwa a look, then returned his attention towards the bed and narrowed his eyes with a cool smirk. “So. This is him? The illustrious prince?” He crouched down and peered at Yeosang, analyzing his features for several long moments before he stood up and callously released a low grunt. “Well. He’s certainly beautiful, I’ll give him that. But your message mentioned something about poison, My Prince. Do you have any proof of this?” 

San grimaced and nodded his head, gripping one of the bedposts with a numb, shaky hand. “Yes. His lips. They were stained with some kind of potion, but my sorcerers were unable to determine what kind.” 

“Really? Is that so?” Seonghwa swung his head around and stared at San, scrutinizing him with such a harrowing force that it made his blood turn to slush in his veins. “And what of your guards? Did they find whatever was used to administer this so-called poison?” 

“….No.” San hesitated, clearing his throat. “There was nothing. No bottle, or goblet. Just…Yeosang.” He gestured to the spot where he’d found his fiancé, the cold marble illuminated under the light of the moon as it streamed in through the jewel-paned window. 

“Hm. Interesting.” Turning back towards the prince in question, Hongjoong swept a finger over his lips and then lifted it up to his nose, breathing in the faint scent that clung to Yeosang’s milky soft skin. “…Lavender,” he murmured to himself, quietly enough so that San wouldn’t hear. But San didn’t need to hear him, not when he saw the silent exchange that passed between Hongjoong and Seonghwa before the former turned to face him again, sympathy etched into the grooves of his face. 

“I’m sorry, My Prince, but your sorcerers weren’t wrong in their initial assessment. Prince Yeosang has indeed been poisoned…by the draught of living death, the most powerful sleeping curse known to mankind.” 

“….I beg your pardon?” San squeezed the bedpost until his knuckles turned white, his other hand clenched into a fist at his side. “A sleeping curse? But—that’s horrible! Who could have possibly done such a thing?!”

“I cannot say, My Prince. But what I can tell you is the cure.” Hongjoong paused and lowered his voice, almost apologetic in the way he spoke next. “Prince Yeosang must receive a kiss from his one true love. Only then will he awake from his slumber, and return to this realm in body and soul.”

“What?” San paled, turning to Yeosang with a look of pure shock. “No…that can’t be. There must be something else—perhaps an antidote of some kind??” 

“…No, My Prince. I’m afraid not. True love’s kiss is the most powerful magic known to mankind. Only it can break such a dark, wicked curse.” Hongjoong grimaced and shook his head, spreading his hands in a gesture of pity. “….Forgive me, My Prince. I don’t mean to be cruel. But I can’t help but notice that you seem rather…displeased by this news. Am I to assume from your reaction that you’re aware your kiss wouldn’t work?” 

“I…that’s—!” San reeled back as if he’d been slapped, tears sparkling like jewels on the very tips of his lashes. He didn’t deny it though. How could he? No amount of arguing would change the fact that while he was hopelessly in love with his fiancé, Yeosang did not love him back. He was fond of San, yes, but merely as a friend…

Which meant that San stood no chance of waking him up. 

A grim sort of silence fell over the room, and for several minutes San stood frozen in place, unable to speak as his tears trickled down. 

“….Is there really no other option,” he finally asked, glancing towards the bed with a gut wrenching sob as Yeosang continued to sleep unaware, as still as a statue carved from white stone.  

“I’m afraid not, My Prince,” Seonghwa coolly replied, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his robe. “Without true love’s kiss, Prince Yeosang shall remain trapped within the Realm of Dreams, his mind and soul lost to eternal sleep. There is nothing we can do for him. Not from this realm.” 

“But…but—that’s ridiculous,” San cried, a portrait of agony as he flung his arms wide. “Hongjoong, please! You’re supposed to be the most powerful sorcerer in all the realm! Shouldn’t you of all people be able to help him?!” 

“San…” from the shadows stepped a figure dressed all in black, the royal crest emblazoned across his right breast. “You should listen to the sorcerers. This isn’t something that you can fix. Yeosang requires—”

“True love’s kiss. Yes, I know! I heard!” San whirled around in a flurry of silk, despair and frustration turning his features to stone. “But I can’t give him that! So what am I supposed to do, Jongho? Leave him like this? What if he never wakes up again?!” 

His cousin frowned and folded his arms over his chest, giving San an unyielding look. “Then we will mourn him together, cousin. But mourn we must. Yeosang wouldn’t want us to dwell on his loss.”

“Wha—his loss?!” San gawked at him as if he were mad, a strangled noise rising from the pit of his throat. “How can you say that?! You’re writing him off like—like he’s dead! But he’s not DEAD, Jongho! He’s asleep! And I WILL wake him up, no matter what!!” He shot his cousin a scathing look before turning back to the two sorcerers and bowing his head, supplicating himself with no ounce of shame. “Please. Name your price. I’ll do anything you ask, anything at all! Just help me save him…please, I-I’m begging you….” 

The sorcerers hesitated at San’s pleas, but it was Hongjoong who sighed and folded his arms, pressing his lips into a razor thin line. “Anything, My Prince...are you sure about that?” He released a low hum and peered behind San, locking eyes with the stormy glare of his shadow. “And what about you, Your Highness? Do you feel the same?” 

Jongho’s jaw noticeably twitched, irritation shrouding every inch of his face. “My feelings are irrelevant. Your lover just said that nothing could be done without true love’s kiss. Was that a lie?”

“No. But you’re twisting his words. He specifically said that nothing could be done for Prince Yeosang here in our realm,” Hongjoong explained, a touch of annoyance coloring his voice. “In the dream world however…there may be a chance.” 

“A chance?” San’s head shot up at lightning speed, his dourness fading with a burst of glee. “Wonderful! Then we must take it!”

“San! Are you mad?!” Jongho threw a hand out and grabbed San’s arm, wrinkling the sleeve of his quilted silk coat. “You’re the prince! The heir to the throne!! You can’t risk your safety on a—a hunch!” 

“But it’s not just a hunch,” San exclaimed, jerking away from the touch. “Otherwise Hongjoong wouldn’t have said anything! Right?” He gave the sorcerer a pleading look, his pupils blown wide and dilated with hope. 

“Yes, My Prince. That is correct,” Hongjoong agreed, ignoring his lover as he scoffed with distaste. “There is one other method that I think will work—but only if Your Royal Highnesses are willing to work together.”

“Yes! Yes!! Of course we are,” San stressed, leaving no room for argument as he clasped Hongjoong’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Just tell us what we need to do. Yeosang is…he’s precious to me. To us. We’ll do whatever it takes to bring him back.”  

“Yes…I can see that. Your loyalty to your prince is truly commendable.” Hongjoong stared at them both for a beat of silence, then curled his lips into a wispy half-smile and pried himself free from San’s clammy grip. “Alright. I’ll help you. But I’ll need the night to prepare, My Prince. Dream magic can be quite tricky to wield, and I must ensure that you both will be safe.”

“Oh—of course! Yes! Whatever you think is best,” San breathed, far too ecstatic to say anything else. 

“Good. Then it’s settled. We’ll see Your Highnesses tomorrow.” Hongjoong bowed politely to San before backing out of the room with Seonghwa, leaving the two royals alone with the cursed sleeping beauty that remained ever quiet upon the sheets. 

“…San,” Jongho started to speak, but San held up a finger to cut him off, refusing to hear his cousin out. 

“Don’t, Jongho. Just…don’t.” 

“But—”

“I said DON’T,” San snapped, and the younger royal clenched his jaw shut, a silent spectator that faded into the background as San bent down and pressed a kiss to Yeosang’s temple, his lips quivering slightly against the pink patch of skin. 

“Don’t worry Yeosang. I’m going to save you, no matter the cost…” 

Chapter Text

The next day found San and Jongho once again standing in Yeosang’s bedchamber, the tension between them sharp enough to cut glass. The two had barely said a word to each other since the day prior, with Jongho refusing to even make eye contact with San as they watched Hongjoong slowly circle the room and weave a series of spells in the air. He’d yet to explain what they all did, but there was no disguising their powerful magic as they turned to stardust and floated down to the bed, shimmering a pale forget-me-not blue. 

“Beautiful,” San whispered, and Jongho reluctantly agreed with him. But that didn’t stop him from scowling at Hongjoong, suspicion painting every inch of his face. 

“Yes, very lovely. What do they do?” 

The sorcerer huffed and lowered his hands, remnants of magic still dusting his skin. “The spells are a form of protection, Your Highness. They’ll keep you two safe as you traverse through the Realm of Dreams.” 

“Theoretically,” Seonghwa hummed from the corner, dispersing a few trickles of stardust as they floated down to rest on his sleeve. “The dream realm is a nebulous place. Your personal safety is not guaranteed.” 

San and Jongho both grimaced at this, while Hongjoong dramatically rolled his eyes. “Thank you for the reminder, my love. Your pessimism is as charming as always.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew two pieces of silk ribbon that had been dyed a shade of radiant gold. “And these will tie your minds together, allowing you to stay connected to your beloved prince—theoretically,” he added, shooting his lover a pointed look. 

“Really? How fascinating,” San whispered, reaching a hand out to touch the ribbons. 

“You mean dangerous,” Jongho retorted, smacking it away with a sharp SLAP. “We're talking about stepping into a world we don’t understand with zero plan and no one to guide us! How are we even supposed to find Yeosang? I doubt that this dreamscape comes with a map!” 

Unfazed by the younger royal’s anger, Hongjoong tied the first ribbon around San’s wrist, leaving a foot or so dangling towards the floor. “I can’t answer those questions, Your Highness. But I don’t think it’s unfair to assume that you will find Prince Yeosang’s soul within dreams that hold meaning to him.”

“Dreams that hold meaning—you mean like memories,” Jongho grunted, reluctantly offering the sorcerer his arm. “Wonderful. So we’re going to ravage Yeosang’s mind like a couple of poachers while theoretically trying to save his soul! How lovely. I’m sure that he’ll appreciate our efforts!” 

“Jongho! It isn’t like that,” San cried. “And I doubt Yeosang will care so long as we manage to wake him up!” He grabbed Jongho by the hand and tugged him over to the bed, their twin ribbons glittering like sunlight against the tanned warmth of their skin. “I’m sorry, Hongjoong. Please, continue! Tell us what we need to do next!”  

“Ah. It’s quite simple, My Prince. Lie down by Prince Yeosang, and I will bind you three together.” Hongjoong gestured towards the sleeping prince, and San scrambled to obey, claiming the spot to Yeosang’s right while Jongho laid down on his left. The younger royal was clearly uncomfortable, watching Hongjoong with clear suspicion as he took the tails of both of their ribbons and knotted them carefully around Yeosang’s wrists. 

“Now what, oh powerful sorcerer? Should we close our eyes and begin to count sheep?”

Hongjoong’s lips twitched ever so slightly, a hint of amusement shrouding his eyes. “…Not quite, Your Highness, although I applaud your sense of urgency. You must truly care for Prince Yeosang’s welfare.” He patted Jongho on the shoulder and then turned towards Seonghwa, who handed him two crystal vials that were filled to the brim with a sparkling purple potion. “Here. Drink this. You’ll find it much easier than counting sheep.” 

San took one of the vials without hesitation, followed much more slowly by his cousin, who uncorked the stopper and held it up, infusing the room with a sweet floral scent. 

“A sleeping potion,” Jongho muttered, wrinkling his nose in distaste as he glanced between the two sorcerers. “You can’t be serious! What is this, some kind of trick?”  

“Of course not, Your Highness. Why on earth would we want to trick you,” Seonghwa scoffed, casting aside Jongho’s concerns with a wave of his hand. “That potion you’re holding is only temporary. It will wear off on its own, no true love’s kiss required.”

“Really? Well lucky us.” Jongho sneered and squeezed the vial, rubbing his thumb across the glimmering crystal. “So how long will we have, exactly? Or are we just supposed to guess?” 

“Jongho…..” San frowned at his cousin from the other side of the bed, but Seonghwa merely arched a brow, unyielding to his stormy gaze. 

“The curse will lift at dawn, Your Highness. That’ll give you until sunrise to save Prince Yeosang from his fate.”

“Sunrise? But that’s only hours away,” San worried, glancing out the nearest window. The sun was low on the horizon, drenching the sky with molten flames. “Can’t you give us a little more time? What if we—”

“I’m sorry, My Prince, but that’s simply not possible. Sleeping curses are quite volatile, and we cannot risk endangering you both—well, no more than we already are.” Hongjoong flashed a strained smile and then stepped away from the bed, politely bowing his two-toned head. “Now then, is there anything else you two require before we leave you to your quest?” 

“Yes. You could try and talk him out of this madness,” Jongho mumbled, while San simply shook his head and dismissed the sorcerers with a smile. 

“Thank you, Hongjoong, but I think we’ve got it from here. Please go get some rest. We’ll see you and Seonghwa tomorrow.” 

“Yes, My Prince. As you wish.” Hongjoong took Seonghwa’s arm and backed out of the room, leaving San and Jongho alone as silence filled the lonely space. 

This was it, the final point of no return. There was only one thing left to do now, and San slowly uncapped his crystal vial and lifted it to his trembling lips. But just before he could drink a hand darted out and grabbed at his wrist, pushing it back down to the bed. 

“San, wait…are you sure about this? I know you love Yeosang, but I’m begging you, please—think this through. What if something goes wrong while we’re sleeping, or if the potion is too strong? We’ll be stuck forever in Yeosang’s dream world, with no way to ever wake up!!” Jongho clutched San’s wrist a little tighter, almost strong enough to bruise bone. “I’m sorry cousin. It’s just too dangerous! We have to try something else.”

“Something else? Are you mad? There IS nothing else! You heard the sorcerers! True love’s kiss is the only method known to ever break a curse like this! So unless Yeosang has a secret lover that neither of us knows about, that is never going to happen!” San wrenched his arm free and raised the vial again, refusing to meet his cousin’s eye. “Now stop trying to change my mind! I’m doing this, Jongho, whether you like it or not!” 

“….Fine. But mark my words. Before this night is over, San, you’re going to regret this.” Jongho fell back against the sheets and raised his own tiny vial, tipping it over his open mouth just as San drank his down. The taste of lavender was overwhelming, drowning their senses in a haze, and neither royal had time to think before they fell fast asleep, succumbing to the curse’s thrall as their ribbons shone an airy gold…

Chapter Text

Everything was…warm. 

San stirred slightly as something soft brushed his cheek, all pillowy and sweet like a small, fluffy cloud. It coaxed him to lie still and keep his eyes shut, but there was a niggling sensation in the back of his mind that urged him to fight it and wake himself up. He had a purpose in coming here, remember? Something important that he needed to do….

….But where was ‘here’, exactly? And why did it smell overwhelmingly of lavender?

Groaning low in the back of his throat, San opened his eyes and saw a sky overhead that was dotted with clouds, like piles of candy floss with their pink and blue hues. The sheer whimsy of it struck him as odd, and he slowly sat up with another groan and blinked the haze of sleep from his eyes. 

Except….nothing happened. The haze remained, a delicate mist that clung to the ground and shimmered with ribbons of opal and pearl. It was so thick that San couldn’t see anything below his waist, just hints of lilac, pink and a ribbon of gold wrapped around the lower part of his arm. 

Wait—a ribbon of gold? 

San cautiously lifted his arm to stare at the ribbon in question, brushing a fingertip across the soft silk as the veil of confusion peeled back from his brain.

That’s right…he remembered now. He and Jongho had entered the Realm of Dreams in order to wake Yeosang up from his sleeping curse, and this ribbon was the key that tied together. But if that was the case….where was Jongho? San looked around in hopes of spotting him, only to find more of that fragrant mist everywhere he turned. 

“Jongho?” San cried out his cousin’s name, waiting for several seconds before he did it again, and again, and AGAIN, his voice rapidly rising in pitch when he heard nothing back in response. “Jongho?? JONGHO?! Are you there? Answer me! I—!”

“San!!” The mists to his left suddenly parted in two, revealing the powerful form of his cousin as he rushed towards San with his arm outstretched, a twin golden ribbon dangling from his wrist. “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Jongho grabbed his hand and pulled San to his feet, steadying him with a look of concern. “Are you alright? You weren’t beside me when I woke up. I thought maybe you’d wandered off and gotten lost.” 

San grimaced at this idea and shook his head. “Of course not. Give me some credit, please! I know better than to go anywhere by myself.” He ignored the frown Jongho gave him and glanced around, trying once again to breach the mists that surrounded them in ethereal glow. “But now that we’re together…do you have any idea where we’re supposed to go?” 

“No. How could I? This place is just as much a mystery to me as it is you.” Jongho scowled and retracted his hand, shaking off some stray flecks of magic as they clung to his skin like a finely milled sugar. “What I do know is that we need to be careful. There’s no telling what could happen if we got lost.” 

“Would it really matter though? Our sleep is only temporary. Once the sun rises, we’re going to wake up. Nothing can change that.” San took a few steps away from Jongho and shielded his eyes, spotting a vague rectangular shape off in the distance whose borders were wrapped in an outline of gold. “Jongho…do you see that? It looks like a window.” 

“A window? Are you sure?” 

“No. But there’s only one way to find out,” San announced, sprinting across the lavender field as Jongho released a frustrated cry. 

“San! Wait, come back! You can’t just run off!” 

But San didn’t care. He moved through the field with sure-footed grace, and upon his approach he noticed that the ribbon around his wrist appeared to glow brighter, as if reacting to the window’s silhouette. 

That had to be a good sign, right? Perhaps it was sensing Yeosang’s presence somehow!

The thought made San’s heart rate spike with excitement, and he hastily closed the last few feet until the light streaming out from the window was bathing him in a radiant gold. “Wow…it really is beautiful,” he murmured to himself, leaning in to feel its warmth before Jongho suddenly appeared at his side and yanked him back by the crook of his arm. 

“San! For fuck’s sake, what are you trying to—?!” 

“Jongho. Look,” San whispered, pointing in awe at the window. The space beyond its crystal clear panes had begun to ripple and change its shape, transforming into a glittering ballroom that looked oddly familiar to them both. 

“Is that…the Silver Palace,” San gasped, and Jongho immediately tensed by his side. 

“You mean Yeosang’s castle? That Silver Palace?” He studied the window through narrowed eyes, assessing it like one might a sword. “Interesting…but why is this here? That palace is hundreds of miles away!”  

“Does it matter? Yeosang could be in there!” San threw open the window with a cry of excitement, allowing a whoosh of warm air to wash through. It was richly perfumed with the smell of roses, and the freshly baked scent of sweet, honeyed cakes too. The combination of both was intoxicating to San, and he couldn’t help but lean a bit closer while Jongho’s warnings raked claws down his skull. 

“San, don’t! It could be dangerous!” 

Unfortunately his warning came a little too late. San’s boots slipped on the damp purple grass, sending him tumbling headfirst through the window and straight into the ball at full force. 

“Oh!!” 

San screamed as the floor rushed up to greet him, but just before he hit it face first a firm grip latched onto his collar and yanked him back with incredible force. He didn’t know who or what it was, at least not at first, but then he saw Jongho out of the corner of his eye and heaved a gasping sigh of relief. 

“Jongho! Thank you! I thought I was a goner for sure!” 

“And why is that? Oh, right! Because you didn’t listen to me,” Jongho snapped, steadying him with a sharp scowl. “Honestly San! How many times do I need to tell you, you CANNOT be so reckless all the time! You have no heir! And no consort! If something were to happen to you, it would send the kingdom into turmoil!” 

”Turmoil? Don’t be ridiculous. If I died, you would take over, and the kingdom would flourish under your care.” Touching his cousin’s shoulder, San put on a brilliant smile that highlighted the dimples in his cheeks. “Besides. I DO have a consort! Yeosang and I are practically married in all but name! And once we break this dreaded curse, we’ll have our wedding just like we planned!” 

“….Of course, cousin. I'm sure you’re right.” Jongho’s expression smoothed over into a blank mask, but his eyes simmered like two hot coals as he slowly turned to inspect the room with an intensity that prickled San’s skin. He appeared to be looking for something—or someone, and San realized who when he spotted a familiar figure near the outskirts of the ballroom, his slender frame wrapped in a splendid red coat that offset the raven tone of his hair. 

“Yeosang! He’s here!” San gasped with delight and  moved to rush forward, but stopped when he saw another figure approaching from the shadow of a patio door, his gilded armor shined to a polish beneath the heavy weight of his cloak. “Who…?” 

The stranger stepped into a shaft of candlelight, and San’s question died on his lips when he saw who now stood within its bright glow. 

He knew that face—almost as well as he knew his own. 

“—Jongho? Cousin, is that you?!” 

Chapter Text

The ballroom seemed to fall away around them as Jongho stared at his mysterious doppelgänger, while San’s soft voice echoed right by his ear. 

“But that’s not possible…you’re right here. How can you be in two places at once?“ 

Jongho didn’t respond, too busy watching the way his other self took Yeosang’s hand and kissed it, the very picture of breeding and etiquette. His lips twitched a little, as if remembering how Yeosang’s skin had felt against them, and San was suddenly struck by a memory of his own as he looked around the beautiful ballroom and smiled with a bright sense of joy. 

“Wait….this—I remember this! It’s the Summer Ball! I was invited as an honored guest in order to celebrate-” 

“Yeosang’s birthday,” Jongho murmured, making San beam. 

“Yes! So you remember it too?” 

Jongho nodded and turned away, his shoulders stiffening beneath his cloak. “How could I forget? This is the day that everything changed.”

“The day I met Yeosang for the very first time,” San sighed, watching with a wistful smile as his own lavishly dressed double stepped out from the crowd and made his way over to the pair. “I remember it perfectly…Yeosang was so shy when I first introduced myself. He could barely even look me in the eye! It was so sweet. I think I started to fall in love with him right then and there.” 

Once again Jongho said nothing, save for a low and toneless hum. San didn’t begrudge him the lack of a response though. His cousin had only attended the ball for strictly professional reasons, and his introduction to Yeosang had been brief and fleeting, more out of courtesy than anything else. He didn’t share San’s fondness for this memory, or his—

Wait. 

“Memory…it’s a memory!” San gasped, grasping his cousin’s arm. “Jongho! Yeosang is dreaming of the day we met! Which means that the window we passed through must have been some kind of doorway!” 

“A doorway?” Jongho looked back towards the window, only to find it long gone now, replaced by a towering white marble column that was draped in garlands of fresh summer blooms. “Hn. Well, hopefully we can find another. We shouldn’t stay here any longer than necessary.” 

“Why,” San mused, watching his younger self kiss Yeosang’s hand. “It’s just a dream.” 

“No. It’s Yeosang’s dream,” Jongho muttered. “And I doubt he’d want us snooping around.” 

“Snooping around? That’s not what we’re doing,” San protested, feeling oddly offended by Jongho’s claim. “We’re here to wake him up! But we can’t do that without talking to him first!” He huffed and spun away from his cousin, searching the crowds for their past selves. They’d mysteriously vanished into thin air however, leaving Yeosang standing all by himself near the veranda with a small wine glass clutched in his hand. And he was—staring at them? 

No. No, that couldn’t be right. 

“What the…” San blinked several times to check if he was hallucinating, but nothing changed. Yeosang was still looking their way, except now his eyes had widened significantly, as if he’d spotted some sort of ghost. 

“….Yeosang?” San whispered his fiance's name, and Yeosang visibly stiffened with shock, his pink lips parting around a word that was far too quiet for San to hear. 

But that didn’t matter. Yeosang could see him! He knew they were here! 

“Yeosang!! My love! Over here,” San cried out, waving one hand at his fiancé as he took a single step forward. But this was the wrong decision. Yeosang shook his head and immediately shrank backwards, his warm brown eyes the size of saucers beneath the delicate fringe of his hair. 

“San…careful. You’re going to scare him,” Jongho cautioned, although the warning came a second too late. Yeosang turned tail and fled through the veranda’s tall double doors, vanishing like a gilded bird into the night beyond its cage. 

“Yeosang! Wait! Where are you going?!” San tried to take off after his fiancé, but Jongho snatched the tail end of his ribbon and yanked him firmly back into place, much to San’s utter dismay. “Jongho! Let go! We have to go after him! We—”

“And then what? He ran from us, San. From you,” Jongho snapped. “Clearly he doesn’t want us here!” 

“What? That’s insane,” San gasped. “Yeosang was just startled, that’s all! It doesn’t mean anything!” 

“Startled? San, he looked terrified! And rightfully so! For all he knows we’re a side effect of the potion, or some kind of nightmarish force meant to lure him into the depths of oblivion,” Jongho raged, fixing San with a scathing look. “And if you chase after him like a dog, you’re only going to scare him more! Is that what you want, San? Well, is it?” 

San’s entire face dropped at these words, and he slowly turned to stare at the veranda as his hands clenched into fists by his sides. “Of course not! But we can’t just stand here, Jongho! Our time in this realm is limited, and we have to make the most of it! I’m sure Yeosang will understand!” 

Mind made up, he pulled free from Jongho’s grasp and began to cross the massive ballroom, his ribbon floating calmly behind him and glowing like a river of stars. But halfway to the double doors he stopped and turned back to Jongho, forcing a frayed smile onto his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Are you coming, cousin? Or should I go on alone?” 

Jongho clenched his jaw at this, but didn’t move to stand by his side. “…….You know I can’t allow that, San.” 

“Then stop trying to fight me on this,” San pleaded, sweeping his hand towards the doors. “Please, Jongho! I know you think I’m being reckless, but you have to see where I’m coming from! Yeosang is…he’s everything to me. I can’t just let him go, not when there’s a real chance that we can still bring him home.” San’s smile turned watery and grim, but with a glimmer of hope still shining through. “Isn’t that what we want? What we both agreed to do?” 

Jongho immediately fell deathly quiet, and he slowly glanced down at his wrist before he stiffly nodded his head. 

“….Yes. I suppose that it is.” 

San’s expression quickly brightened, all of his tension melting away within the blink of an eye. “Good! So let’s go!” He extended his hand towards his cousin, and Jongho grimly allowed himself to be guided out of the ballroom and out onto the veranda instead. However, as soon as their feet crossed the threshold the double doors snapped shut behind them, leaving them face to face with a flourishing garden and half a dozen towering windows cloaked in a pale and gossamer mist. 

“…Are those..?”

“More windows into Yeosang’s dreams? Oh, most definitely,” Jongho muttered, following San down the marble steps that led into the garden proper. 

“But which one is he currently in? We don’t have time to check them all,” San mused, peering at the closest window with a low and thoughtful hum. “Should we just…guess? Or maybe we—oh! Jongho, look!” He quickly pointed at his wrist, where his ribbon had begun to glow against the fabric of his coat. “I see….it's just like before!” 

“Before? Before what?” 

“Back at the field,” San explained, excitement bursting across his face. “My ribbon was glowing then too! That’s why I approached the window! And now it’s doing it again! That has to be a good sign, right?”

“….It could be. Hongjoong did say that the ribbons would connect us to Yeosang. Perhaps he was being literal,” Jongho frowned, a pang of tension furrowing his brow. “But can it really be that simple?” 

”I don't see why not. There’s no rule that says magic has to be complicated!” 

“Hm. I suppose….” 

While Jongho’s skepticism was understandable, San had no patience for it. He breezed past his cousin and hurried down the line of windows, using his glowing ribbon as a beacon to hunt down the next path they should take. “No, no—yes!! There! That’s the one,” he exclaimed, pointing at a massive window whose top was shaped in a beautiful crescent arch.  

”Are you sure? How do you know it’s not the next one, or the one we just passed,” Jongho asked. 

In response San scoffed and pointed at his ribbon, which was glowing just as brightly as his own. “If you don’t trust me, then trust your own eyes! This is the one!” He threw open the shutters to prove his point, and a pleasant breeze swept through the air, ruffling the dark strands of their hair. It smelt heavily of sugared fruit, with a subtle trace of something floral that made both of their nostrils flare. 

“Well? Shall we,” San asked, holding his hand out to Jongho. His cousin gave it a scrutinizing look, as if assessing it for some sign of danger, but slowly nodded and gripped it tight, allowing San to entwine their fingers. 

“Fine. But for the record, I still think this is a terrible idea.” 

“I know. And I appreciate your concern. I know that it comes from the heart,” San praised, giving Jongho’s digits a squeeze. Then he turned to face the window, sucking in a nervous breath before he led them through its swirling portal as the world behind them fell to mist. 

Chapter Text

The transition between Yeosang’s dreams was far less jarring this time around, and San was all smiles as they emerged from the glowing portal into a field full of towering apple trees. The air was crisp and smelled like honey, and everything was tinted a rosy gold by the scattered rays of sunshine that filtered down through the leaves. It was delightfully picturesque, just like a drawing from a storybook, and San allowed himself to admire it all before he turned to look at Jongho and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. 

“I think I recognize this place. It’s the royal apple orchard, isn’t it? The one owned by Yeosang’s brother?” 

“You mean King Yunho,” Jongho corrected, curling his fingers beneath San’s. “And he doesn’t technically own it. It’s the property of the royal family, and tended to by the Jung’s.” 

“The Jung’s…why does that name sound so familiar,” San asked, and Jongho gave him an exasperated look. 

“Because their son is Yeosang’s childhood companion. You met him once or twice during our visits to the Bluebird Isles.” 

San blinked at his cousin, surprised that he’d even remembered such a minute detail. “Yes….of course! I remember now! His name is Wooyoung, right? And he and Yeosang used to play together in this very same orchard!” Feeling rather proud of his newfound revelation, San pulled away from the younger and wove a path through the trees, admiring their autumnal beauty until a question popped into his head. “But where is Yeosang? There’s no sign of him anywhere!” 

Jongho shrugged and trailed after him, gesturing idly to the fields. “Just because he’s dreaming all this doesn’t mean he’s actually here. Maybe he’s feeling nostalgic, and the orchard makes him feel at home.” 

San huffed and wrinkled his nose, trying his best not to pout. “Maybe, but that doesn’t help us find him, Jongho! And if he’s not here, then—oh! I see something!” He darted between two trees and pointed to a large wool blanket that had been spread out across the grass. There was a picnic basket resting on top, as well as a bottle of makgeolli that still had condensation on the glass, which shimmered under the golden sun like a cascade of tiny jewels. 

But there was no owner in sight, be it Yeosang or someone else. 

“I don’t understand…where on earth could he be?” San circled the picnic blanket and tried to squint through the trees. “Jongho? Do you see anything? I can’t—” 

“Shhh.” Jongho held up a finger to silence him, then pointed several yards away at a small clearing near the edge of the trees. And there at the center stood Yeosang, dressed in a simple but elegant outfit of linen with his black hair tucked behind his ears. There was a vambrace wrapped around his left arm, and in his hand he held a bow that was easily half the size of his own height, with a wooden grip embossed with flowers and a thin veneer of gold. 

However, it was the sight of his own doppelgänger that took San’s breath away. He was standing directly behind the prince and whispering softly into his ear, offering him some friendly council as Yeosang took aim at his target, a large basket of apples that had been placed several yards away. His brow was furrowed in concentration, and San could see his hands shake before he drew back the bowstring and curled his fingers against his cheek.  

“I remember….this was our first outing together! I  wanted to take him on a picnic, but Yeosang said it would have to wait until after he finished his archery lesson! He was always so strict regarding his studies. He never wanted to quit early…” 

“That’s because he took them seriously. Maybe you could’ve learned a thing or two, if you weren’t so busy distracting him,” Jongho retorted, watching Yeosang release one arrow, then another, each one piercing into the ground a foot away from their goal. 

“Distracting him? What are you talking about? I didn’t ‘distract’ him. That’s ridiculous,” San huffed, only for Jongho to shoot him a knowing look. 

“Right. You would say that. So I guess it’s just a coincidence that Yeosang only started missing the target AFTER you tried to help?”

The insult needled its way into San’s skin, making him flush with shame. “No! I mean yes! But how could you—wait!” He grabbed Jongho’s arm and pulled him down to the ground, hiding them just in time as his younger self came strolling past. Luckily he didn’t notice them, but San saw the happy expression on his face, and the way his brown eyes sparkled like a pair of precious jewels. 

“Look at me…I was so in love with him even then.” San pushed out an airy sigh and turned to smile at his cousin, only to find him watching Yeosang with an oddly intense frown. “Jongho? What’s wrong?” 

Jongho didn’t speak, at least not at first. He kept his eyes on Yeosang as the prince moved to collect his arrows, shaking off the grass and dirt before he tucked them into a quiver that had been strung across his back. Then he slowly straightened up, tilting his head to the side as a breeze swept through his silky hair. 

“…I know you’re there. Come out. You don’t have to hide from me.” 

A beat of tension passed between the hidden royals, but neither of them made a move, too startled by the prince’s words. But it didn’t matter. Something moved in the shadows just to their left, and after a moment another Jongho stepped out from behind an apple tree, a stoic frown on his face. He looked confused, perhaps even a little perturbed, as if Yeosang had done something to truly catch him off guard. 

But what could he have possibly done? 

And why—

“You lied.” 

The royal’s words came out blunt, cracking like a piece of stone. Yet Yeosang merely pursed his lips and politely shook his head. 

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t lie—”

“Yes, you did. To San. You let him think you don’t know how to shoot, when you’re actually one of the best archers in the kingdom.” The other Jongho folded his arms over his chest, his black cloak billowing in the breeze. “The question is, why? Why not tell him the truth? Were you afraid he’d feel embarrassed? Or upstaged by your skill?” 

Yeosang’s lips pinched even tighter, twitching slightly at the corners. “Of course not. I may not know San all that well, but even I can tell that he’s not the type to feel resentful. I just….” he lowered his gaze for a second, then lifted it with a gentle smile and proudly raised his noble chin. “I thought it would make him happy. He was so excited to help me learn, and I didn’t want to spoil the mood. Especially not over something so trivial.”

Jongho’s frown flickered at this, losing its hard worn edge. “I would hardly call your skills trivial. Your talent with a bow and arrow is said to be legendary.” 

“Really? And how would you know, when you’ve never seen me shoot?” 

A strained silence fell over the apple orchard then, and San half wondered if his cousin was going to say something in response. But Jongho remained deathly quiet, stewing in his own thoughts until Yeosang broke the solemn air. 

“Forgive me, Your Highness. That was rather rude of me, wasn’t it?” Yeosang sighed and shifted his weight, making his quiver of arrows rustle. “Of course it was. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Stop.” Jongho held up a hand, stalling him in his tracks. “Don’t apologize. You’re absolutely right, I’ve never seen you shoot. But everyone says you’re the best archer in the kingdom, and I know San would be impressed if you told him the truth.” 

” ….You think so?” 

“I know so,” Jongho replied. “San values talent in others. He would never look down on you for being better than him at something. It’s just not in his nature.” 

“……I see.” 

The two fell into another silence, but this time things were different. There was far less tension between them now, and San could see his younger cousin deliberating over his words, no doubt choosing what to say next in order to preserve the mood. He was always thoughtful in that way, even if he didn’t show it. And San—

“Would you like to watch me shoot?” 

San froze behind the tree, as startled by his fiancé’s words as his cousin oh so clearly was. But the younger Jongho took it in stride, offering a slight smirk as he cocked his head to the side. 

“And if I say yes? Will you prove that the rumors are true?” 

Yeosang just smiled and raised his bow, and quick as a flash notched an arrow and sent it flying through the air. It pierced the topmost apple in the basket, rupturing its ruby skin and sending it toppling to the ground before Jongho could even blink. 

“…Well? I think that was proof enough,” Yeosang teased, an airy lilt to his voice that San rarely got to hear. It certainly shocked his younger cousin, who clearly didn’t know what to say as Yeosang went to retrieve his arrow with its punctured piece of fruit, which he promptly held out to Jongho with a small and playful grin. 

“Here. For you.” 

Jongho blinked and took the arrow, furrowing both of his brows. “Thank you…but why are you giving me this?” 

Yeosang hummed and shouldered his bow, his dark eyes shimmering in the sun. “My kingdom is famous for its apples. I thought you might like to try one, since you’re such a fan of rumors.” He muffled a giggle behind his hand, then turned to leave the sunny clearing with a wave of his hand. “Have a lovely afternoon, Your Highness. And thank you kindly for your counsel. I’ll go speak to San and clear up this confusion.” 

“….I—you’re welcome?” Jongho watched the prince leave, seemingly glued to the spot until he snapped out of his sudden stupor and rushed off in the opposite direction. This left San and his cousin alone at the clearing’s edge, and while Jongho was quick to jump to his feet, San hesitated for a moment, staring off into the distance with wide, unblinking eyes. 

“….He never told me.” 

“What?” Jongho stopped and looked at him, his black hair fluttering in the breeze. “Never told you what? About his archery? But why? That doesn’t make any sense.” 

“I…think it’s my fault,” San murmured, more to himself than anyone else. “I could tell that his mind was preoccupied while we were on the picnic, but every time he tried to speak I kept…well….cutting him off. I didn’t mean to, but I was just so excited! It was our first official outing together, and I wanted to make it special.” 

Jongho’s expression shuttered at this, and he clicked his tongue against his teeth. “San…..” 

The sound of his cousin’s disappointment immediately made San's chest burn with shame, and he quickly ducked his head down low to avoid Jongho’s scathing glare. “I know, I know!! I feel terrible! And if I’d known then what I do now, I never would have—oh!” The ribbon around San’s wrist suddenly glowed a luminous gold, cutting off his self-pity as he jumped to his feet. “Jongho! Is it…?” 

“Another dream,” Jongho sighed, pointing to the empty clearing. The basket of apples had been replaced by a now very familiar window, its ghostly surface cloaked in mist that sparkled like magic in the sun. “Fuck. I think that’s our sign to go.” 

“What?! But we can’t leave now! We didn’t get to talk to Yeosang,” San cried, much to Jongho’s irritation. 

“No, YOU didn’t. And now we have to move on,” he snapped, abandoning their hiding spot to walk towards the new portal. San had no choice but to follow after him, his broad shoulders slumped within his jacket as he toyed with the ribbon around his wrist. 

“…..For what it’s worth, I really am sorry. I never meant to—” 

“San.” His cousin sighed and held up a hand, giving him a tired look. “Don’t. Don’t apologize. It’s not important right now. Just promise me that when the time comes, you’ll actually listen to what Yeosang has to say?” 

San swallowed and nodded his head, not daring to question why. “Of course. I promise.” 

“Good.” Turning back towards the window, Jongho took hold of San’s wrist and then stepped into the glittering portal, which swallowed them both within its mists as their matching ribbons continued to glow. 

Chapter Text

The portal didn’t open up to a ballroom this time, nor an orchard teeming with apples and illuminated by warm rays of sunshine. Instead the two royals were deposited within a shadowy alcove, with a sprawling dining hall just to their left that San recognized from Yeosang’s castle. He and his fiancé had spent many an evening there together, sharing meals and sipping on wine while San regaled him with stories from his youth. 

However, today there were no signs of such an exchange taking place. Instead Yeosang was sitting all by himself at the massive mahogany table, with a modest meal of chicken and rice placed beside his glass of wine. That in itself wasn’t unusual, but it did make San feel slightly uncomfortable as he watched Yeosang eat his meal, his slender chopsticks clinking softly after each and every bite. 

“I don’t understand. Why is he by himself,” San muttered. Yeosang had never once eaten alone in all the time that he’d known him. So what was different about this night? And where was his younger self? 

“Jongho, do you have any idea what’s going on,” San asked, making sure to keep his voice down as he glanced at his cousin. But Jongho refused to look at him, nor did he respond. He simply pointed to a small alcove directly across from their own, where San could see something moving amongst the shadows, a figure cloaked in black and steel with caution blazing in their eyes.  

“…Who is that? Do you recognize them?” 

“….Yes, San. And so should you,” Jongho replied, his voice softening ever so slightly. “It’s me again. Or rather, the younger me.” He pointed again at the figure, who was watching Yeosang from the shadows like some sort of ghostly wraith. 

“Oh…I see,” San murmured, squinting at the clandestine sight. “….But why are you just standing there? Does Yeosang know—” 

Clink.

The prince in question lowered his chopsticks, setting them down beside his plate. He then reached for his wine and brought it slowly to his lips, taking but a single sip before he sighed and tilted his head. 

“Hiding again are we, Your Highness? Don’t you think that’s rather rude?” 

Across the hall his cousin twitched, cursing softly under his breath. He clearly hadn’t expected to be noticed, much less called out by the prince, but now that he had his only choice was to step out of the gloomy alcove and expose himself to his grace. 

“I was not hiding, Your Highness. I was trying not to disturb your meal.”

“How? By stalking me from the shadows like some kind of secret assassin,” Yeosang teased, relinquishing his half-filled glass so he could tuck his chin into his hand. “It’s a bit odd, you have to admit. Most people don’t tend to do that.” 

”Hn. Well, most people aren’t Captain of the Royal Guard,” Jongho grunted, and Yeosang chuckled under his breath, his doe eyes twinkling in the light.

“Touché. But may I ask, who exactly are you guarding from all the way over there? Because if your cousin is back there too, I’m going to need a lot more wine.”

Jongho’s expression wavered at this, and from their alcove San could see his shoulders tense, as if he were trying not to laugh. 

“…An understandable reaction, Your Highness. My cousin has been rather…persistent of late.” 

“Yes. That’s one way of putting it,” Yeosang agreed, sitting back in his chair with a sigh. ”My brother is under the impression that he’s seeking an alliance between our kingdoms, and is merely using our friendship in order to curry favor. Tell me, is that true, Your Highness? Or does Prince San genuinely enjoy my company?” 

The younger royal frowned at this and gripped the table, just as his older self tensed beside San. “….I see no reason why both can’t be true,” he answered slowly, weighing each word like a jeweler would gold. “It’s San’s duty as future king to secure new alliances, particularly with those who can better our realm. But he’s also a man of integrity who values honesty, both in himself and in others. So lying to you for the sake of politics? That’s just something he would never do.” 

“Ah. I see…” Yeosang trailed off and tapped his chin, a pensive look on his face. “And what about you, Your Highness? Would you also never lie to me?” 

“….I….” Jongho paused and mulled it over, something fragile behind his stare.  “….No, Your Highness. I wouldn’t. At least not without a good reason.” 

“….Hm. Good answer,” Yeosang remarked, offering him a genuine smile. “Then in the interest of honesty, please, tell me. Why did you really come here tonight? Was it San? Did he ask you to speak with me after I refused to join him for a meal?”

The dining hall plunged into a chilling silence, and San visibly struggled to unpack what he’d heard as Jongho turned to give him a look. 

“Well? Do you remember that, cousin? Because I do. You spent the entire day pleading with Yeosang to join you for dinner, even after you saw how exhausted he was from all of his lessons. But you didn’t care. You were SO determined to get your way that eventually he promised to meet you for breakfast, just so you’d leave him alone.” Jongho stopped talking and narrowed his eyes, their corners creased with tiny white lines. “Don't you see? You overwhelmed him, San. And despite his obvious desire for space, he was too damn polite to tell you NO.”

Horror washed over San like pure ice, chilling him down to the very bone. “B-But…that—I never meant to—”

“Your intentions don’t matter. Only the consequences,” Jongho muttered, turning his back on him again while his younger self cleared his throat. 

“….Actually, Your Highness. My cousin has no idea that I’m here.” 

“Oh….is that so?” Yeosang’s smile dipped at the corners, and he anxiously began to pick at his wrist as he slowly leaned back in his chair. “Then what can I do for you, Your Highness? Did you need something, or—?” 

“No! No, not at all. I just…” Jongho paused and stared at the prince, an air of solemnity passing over his face. “…I wanted to apologize for what happened today. The way San acted....it was inexcusable, Your Highness. He clearly made you feel uncomfortable, and you didn’t deserve to be treated that way.”

“.…I see.” Yeosang blinked several times and parted his lips, repeatedly toying with the trim on his cuff as he struggled to think of something to say. “….I must admit, this is not at all what I was expecting,” he finally replied, a note of uncertainty coloring his voice. “But the apology is appreciated, Your Highness—even if you had nothing to do with it.” 

“Whether I did or didn’t is irrelevant. San is my cousin, and his poor behavior reflects on us both,” Jongho retorted, bowing his head to the stunned prince. “So again, you have my apologies, Your Highness. And please know that I plan on doing everything in my power to ensure that something like this never happens again. This is your home, and we are your guests. We must respect your personal space.” 

“I…t-thank you,” Yeosang breathed, a hint of a lisp slipping into his words. “But there’s really no need to go through such trouble. Prince San didn’t intend any harm. He just wanted to invite me to dinner.” 

“Yes, but he went about it entirely the wrong way. You were clearly tired, Your Highness, and my cousin should have recognized that,” Jongho argued, making Yeosang blush a deep pink and San squirm in his hiding place. 

Was Jongho right? Did he blatantly overlook Yeosang’s exhaustion just to secure his company? The mere thought left a sour taste in his mouth, and San gagged on a mouthful of bile as he touched the stone wall with a trembling hand. 

”Gods, Jongho….how could I have been so blind?” 

His cousin favored him with a stony look, but San saw the cracks in his expression as sympathy bled through the facade. 

“….You wanted to spend time with him, cousin. That’s not a crime.” 

No. It wasn’t. And yet here he was, lurking in corners like some kind of criminal while he stalked his fiancé throughout his dream world. And for what? All in a vain hope to save his soul? San clenched his fingers and choked back a sob, remorse tying his heart into knots as he watched Jongho’s younger self turn away from the table, his armor gleaming a pale, silver-gold. 

“Forgive me, Your Highness. No doubt you’re sick of all of my prolatizing. I’ll take my leave for the night, and you can—”

“Wait!” Yeosang hastily jumped to his feet, accidentally rattling the dishes on the table. “You don’t have to leave,” he stammered. “Please, join me! I’ll have the servants bring some more food. Or would you prefer a glass of wine?” Yeosang grabbed the pitcher and held it up, looking so dreadfully shy that it made him resemble a tiny, fluffy dog. 

“……Are you sure, Your Highness? I don’t want to intrude,” Jongho spoke slowly, hesitating a mere few feet from the table. 

“No! I mean, yes! Yes, I’m sure,” Yeosang confirmed, and the younger man returned his smile with a hesitant one of his own. 

“Alright. Then I’ll stay…but just for one drink.” 

Yeosang beamed at this and gestured to the table, ushering him towards the chair by his side. But that was where the dream ran its course. Glittering mist abruptly swarmed in from every corner of the room, shrouding the hall in a ghostly white veil that was all too familiar to both of the royals. 

“No, wait! Yeosang, don’t go!!” San darted out of the alcove as fast as he could, hoping to catch his beloved fiancé and finally set this matter to rest. But he barely managed to make it a foot before the magic closed in and swallowed everything in sight, leaving him to drop to his knees as his ribbon began to subtly glow. 

“I don’t believe it. This can’t be happening…” 

“San…” Jongho stepped forward and touched his shoulder, an identical light illuminating his wrist as another dream portal appeared from the gloom. “Don’t panic. Everything’s going to be alright. We just need to move on and—” 

“And? And?? And WHAT, Jongho,” San sobbed at his cousin, his vision rapidly growing blurry with tears. “Will you finally let me speak with Yeosang? Or are you going to hold me down and force me to watch as more of my flaws are thrown in my face?” 

Jongho flinched and withdrew his hand, a hint of shame softening his eyes. “San….that’s not what I’m trying to do…” 

“Isn’t it? Are you sure about that?” San shoved him away and pushed to his feet, a cold numbness settling into his chest. “Well then. Here’s your chance to prove it,” he muttered, shooting Jongho a downtrodden look before he walked towards the shimmering portal and stepped through to whatever lay next. 

Chapter Text

A wave of laughter greeted San as he emerged from the glittering portal, the magic trailing off of him like a cloak as he slowly looked around the new room. It appeared to be some sort of parlor, richly furnished in velvet and gold and closed off by two gilded screen doors. However, one of the doors had been slightly left ajar, and San could hear Yeosang’s voice filtering in through the small gap. He was talking to someone, although San couldn’t see who, and when he tried to sneak a peek Jongho abruptly grabbed his arm and yanked him away with a sharp hiss. 

“Don’t! Don’t go near the doors!”  

“Excuse me?” San grimaced and stared at his cousin, wondering what on earth the problem was now. “Really, Jongho? I thought you were done with all this?” He tried his best to shake Jongho off, but his cousin refused to so much as budge, his fingers knotted in the silk of San’s sleeve.  

“I know, I know! But San, you don’t understand! These are Yeosang’s private rooms! We shouldn’t be here!”

The corners of San’s mouth sank even lower, echoing the heavy weight of his heart. “And how would you know that? Have you been here before?” 

“…I…” Jongho reflexively steeled his shoulders, his expression drawn with a look of concern. “Yes. I have. And that’s why we need to leave! We can’t just—!”

A shadow suddenly fell over the doors, cutting off the tail end of his words. Jongho hastily drew back with a thinly veiled curse, but San remained glued to the spot, transfixed by the golden skinned person who now stood a few inches away. He looked familiar in a vague sort of way, his sloped nose and razor sharp jaw striking a chord in the back of San’s skull. 

He knew this man…but why? And what could he possibly have to do with—

“Yeosangie!! Where’s that new outfit your prince brought you? I want to see how pretty it looks!” 

A sigh of exhaustion passed through the doors, and San immediately perked up when he saw his fiancé appear from the corner dressed in a long crimson robe. His skin was glowing and flushed a soft pink, and his damp hair cascaded in waves to frame the delicate arch of his cheeks. He’d obviously just stepped out of a bath, and San had half a mind to clamp his eyes shut as he watched him storm up to the door and swat at the man who knew him so well. 

“For the last time, Wooyoung, he’s NOT my prince! You’ve got to stop saying such things!” 

“Why? It’s true, isn’t it?” Wooyoung effortlessly dodged to the side and avoided another carefully aimed slap. “C’mon Sangie! You like him, I know it! Why can’t you just admit it?” 

Yeosang scoffed and pursed his lips, folding his arms across his chest. “You know why, Youngie. It won’t go anywhere! So why should I get my hopes up?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because he’s madly in love with you,” another voice drawled, and San had to quickly crouch down when a third person stepped up to the door, towering over the smaller two males. He was tall and broad shouldered with soft, pouty lips, and dressed in a heavy wrap of black silk that closed at the waist with a thick silver belt. San recognized him as King Yunho’s scribe, a man who always trailed closely behind and sat near his throne when the king held court. 

But what was he doing here? Were he and Yeosang also friends too? San squinted at the crack in the doors and watched as the man tucked some hair behind Yeosang’s ear, his plush lips splitting into a smile that softened the harsh lines of his face. 

“Aw, our sweet Sangie. Don’t pretend like you haven’t noticed the way that he looks at you. Because we sure have. And it’s only a matter of time before others do too.” 

“Yeah! Mingi’s right,” Wooyoung crowed, throwing his arms around Yeosang’s waist while he nuzzled the creamy arch of his neck. “So why not get a jump on it now? That way you guys can control the narrative!” 

“Right. Except that there’s nothing to control,” Yeosang huffed, shoving his best friend away while shooting Mingi a frustrated look. “And even if there was, it still wouldn’t matter! His cousin likes me too, remember?”

His cousin? San glanced over his shoulder and saw Jongho wince, his hands clenching into white knuckled fists. 

“Jongho? What is he talking about,” San whispered, but Jongho didn’t answer. He just shook his head and slowly crept forward, while Yeosang’s friends groaned with distaste. 

“Who cares about him? This is about you!” 

“And your true love,” Mingi drawled, which earned him another sharp scowl. 

“Would you please stop putting words in his mouth? You know what they say about assuming things!” 

Wooyoung and Mingi both rolled their eyes at this, but it was the former who stuck up his nose and glared at Yeosang with a petulant huff. “Well, what about you? Have you tried explaining your feelings to him?” 

Yeosang flushed and looked down at the floor, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. “Well…no. But why should I have to explain myself first? It's not like I have any proof that he even wants to be with me.” 

“Proof? You mean like all of the fancy gifts he’s given you? Or the fact that he goes out of his way in order to spend time with you,” Wooyoung snapped, frustration bubbling up in his tone. “Come on Sangie! I know you can be pretty obtuse about these kinds of things, but it’s painfully obvious that the guy is in love with you! And if you keep trying to pretend that he’s not, then all you’re doing is hurting yourself. Which is bullshit, by the way, because you deserve to be happy!” 

“Yeah. Wooyoung’s right,” Mingi agreed, patting the prince on his silk sleeve. “But the only way you’ll ever get to that point is if you stop being stubborn and talk to him. Your prince isn’t a mind reader, Sang. He deserves to know how you feel too.”  

“I…I…” Yeosang fell quiet and stared at his feet, his brow creasing with tiny white lines that resembled cracks in a porcelain vase. San could tell that he didn’t disagree with what they were saying, and that’s why he didn’t come to his own defense. 

But what were they saying, exactly? Because it didn’t make sense. Yeosang had always been honest with him regarding their future together, and while San was confident that he could make him fall in love with him someday, it was still nothing more than a far off dream. So why did Yeosang’s friends keep referring to him as his so-called ‘true love?’ And why bring up Jongho at all, when he had nothing to do with this?

…Unless…

“…Jongho,” San pivoted around to stare at his cousin, the taste of betrayal like salt on his tongue. “Is there something you want to tell me…?” 

All of the color drained from Jongho’s face, and he frantically opened and closed his mouth in an effort to form any semblance of words. “I…San…please, don’t do this. Don’t ask me questions that I can’t answer…”

“Can’t? Or WON’T,” San stressed, and Jongho dropped his eyes to the floor, refusing to meet the weight of his stare. It was a reaction so very similar to Yeosang’s that the resemblance nearly struck San cold, and he stumbled back with a bittersweet laugh as frustration charred his heart into coal. “I see. So that’s the way it’s going to be...” 

Jongho flinched and pinched his eyes shut, numbly shaking his head back and forth. “San….you don’t understand—!” 

“No. He doesn’t,” came a deep, soothing voice, like honey melting over a warm metal spoon. The familiarity of it made San want to cry, and yet his eyes felt impossibly dry as he slowly turned to face the doors, his excitement dulled to an ashy grey hue as he choked out the words he’d been longing to use.   

“….Yeosang? Is that really you?” 

Chapter Text

“…Yeosang…? Is that really you?”

The question lingered within the richly dressed room, echoing like the shade of a ghost before the double doors slid open and swallowed it up in a cloud of white smoke. But through the haze San could see his fiancé, as beautiful as the day they first met and wearing such a harrowing smile that it wounded him down to his very soul. 

“San…I can’t believe it. You’re actually here,” Yeosang breathed, stepping into the ghostly lit parlor with a soft patter of flesh against stone. “I have to admit, I’m surprised to see you. I honestly thought it was some kind of trick when I first spotted you back at the ball. Yet here you are, in the flesh and blood…how on earth did you manage to achieve such a thing?”

The question was innocent enough, at least at face value, and yet San couldn’t help feeling a tiny bit judged as he forced a smile for his fiancé that stretched unnaturally across his tan skin. 

“It wasn’t easy. We had to use magic,” he explained, holding up his arm so Yeosang could see the ribbon that Hongjoong had tied around his wrist. “When Jongho and I found you unconscious in your rooms, the palace sorcerers were quick to deduce that you’d fallen victim to some kind of poison. But it was Hongjoong and Seonghwa who explained that—”

“Wait, Hongjoong and Seonghwa? You mean the dark sorcerers? You actually spoke to them,” Yeosang cut in, hugging himself through his crimson silk robe. San frowned at this and lowered his wrist, his stomach beginning to twist into knots as he met his fiancé’s startled brown eyes and slowly took another step forward. 

“Yes…we did. And they told us that you were under a powerful sleeping curse, and the only thing that could wake you up was receiving a kiss from your one true love.”

“….I see.” 

“Really? Do you,” San asked, a hint of fragility sharpening his voice. “Then would you please explain it to me? Because I was under the impression that you didn’t HAVE a true love! But clearly that isn’t true, since your own dreams say that you do!!”   

“San! What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Don’t you dare yell at him!!” Jongho surged forward and snatched at his sleeve, but San wasn’t deterred. He shook him off and stared at Yeosang, willing him to speak, to confess, to say anything at all in his defense. And when that didn’t work…

Well. 

San decided to grovel instead. 

“Yeosang, please. I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. But after everything I’ve seen today, I just…” San took a breath and reached for his hand, giving it a delicate squeeze before he lifted it to his lips for a kiss. “I need you to be honest with me. No more secrets, no more lies. Please, just tell me the truth. That's all I ask.” 

“The truth….” Yeosang’s beautiful facade cracked at this, allowing a hint of regret to shine through. “Oh San. Don’t you understand? That's all I’ve been trying to do since the very first moment we met! But you wouldn’t listen. You never listened, no matter how many times I tried to show you!” 

“What? That’s not true! I—!” San snapped his mouth shut when he saw Yeosang flinch, a veil of sadness falling over his face. “…..I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” He dropped Yeosang’s hand and backed away, giving the prince some much needed space. “Fuck. I'm so sorry, Yeosang. I didn’t mean to, I…I was just…” 

“I know, San. I know. You never mean to,” Yeosang sighed, quietly shaking his head back and forth. “For all of your flaws, you’re a very sweet person. You would never intentionally hurt anyone, least of all someone you love. But….” Yeosang drifted off with a sigh and calmly gestured to the doors. “Well. Perhaps it would be better if I showed you instead?” 

The offer sent a bolt of anxiety piercing through San, and he nervously glanced towards the doorway as it began to shimmer once more.  

“What is that? Another memory? Or a dream?”

Yeosang didn’t answer. He simply held out his hand and inclined his head, patiently waiting for San to choose what he was going to do. 

Except was there really a choice? San couldn’t stay here forever. Eventually the spell would wear off, and he and Jongho would be forced to wake up, with or without ever learning the truth. 

No. San’s only hope now was to keep moving forward and stay with Yeosang for as long as he could. 

“….Very well. Lead the way,” San whispered, taking Yeosang’s outstretched hand as Jongho shrilly called out his name. 

“San? What are you doing?! You can’t just—!”

But San wasn’t listening. He followed Yeosang through the double doors and waltzed straight into the icy mist that rose up to swallow them both. There was an odd comfort to it now, despite the chill that burned his skin, and San took a moment to breathe it in before voices suddenly pricked his ears and the scented fog began to clear. 

They were on a balcony of some sort, completely cut off from the world below, and sitting directly beneath them was a man dressed in black from head to toe, save for the crown of rubies and gold nestled within the bronze of his hair.  

“Yeosang….is that…?” 

“My brother. Yunho,” Yeosang confirmed, waving aside the rest of the mist with a casual flick of his wrist. “He always held court after my archery lessons on Sunday so that I could learn how a proper king rules. But today was different. Today my lesson ran late, and you, San, showed up in my place.” 

“I did?” San immediately peered over the railing, watching himself approach the king and kneel before his tall wooden throne. It was a scene practically right out of a fairy tale, and he couldn’t help but flush with joy as the memory began to stir in his soul. “Wait…is this…?”

“The day you asked for my hand in marriage? Yes. Yes it is,” Yeosang sighed, propping his arms up on the railing with a soft and weary frown. “You told Yunho it would be good for our kingdoms, that together we could forge an alliance that would connect our families for generations to come. You promised him weapons, ships, a veritable fortune in fabrics and jewels…” 

“I did,” San agreed. “And if he’d asked, I would’ve offered him more. Because you were more valuable than any old jewel.” 

“…Is that so?” Yeosang’s lips twitched ever so slightly, but his posture remained undeniably sad as he quietly watched the scene below. “Oh San. You’re very sweet. But I fear that it was your desire for me that led to all of this hardship and woe.” He pointed a finger down at the throne room, where a version of himself had just walked in still wearing his archery clothes. But he wasn’t alone. Jongho was following closely behind him, and the look he gave San was cold enough to crack stone as he approached the marble base of the throne. 

“….San? What is this? What’s going on?” 

The younger version of San smiled warmly in response, seemingly ignorant to how angry his cousin truly was. “Jongho! Just in time! I was hoping that you’d be here for this.” He turned to Yeosang and smiled harder, carving dimples into the sides of his mouth. “Yeosang! Hello! I would’ve come to get you sooner, but I didn’t want to interrupt your lessons. I know how important they are to you.”

“Ah…thank you, San. But I don’t understand. Why would you need to interrupt me at all,” Yeosang asked, gazing nervously at the prince as his eyes curved into warm crescent moons. 

“Because today is a very special day. And I just couldn’t bear to put it off any more.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a box, one no bigger than the size of his palm and latched with a small golden clasp. Yeosang’s eyes widened when he saw it, and he quickly lifted a hand to his mouth in an attempt to muffle his stunned sounding gasp. 

“San? No…is that….?” 

The younger prince chuckled and opened the box, revealing a silver ring embossed with his personal crest, a mountain tipped in pale diamond snow and crowned with a wreath of rosy pink stones. It was an exquisite piece, handcrafted by the best jewelers that money could buy, and yet all San could see was the sheer shock with which Yeosang watched as his younger self knelt down on the floor and nervously held out the box. 

“Yeosang…my love. The time I’ve spent with you here in your kingdom have been the happiest days of my life. You’re witty, and charming, and so unbelievably kind, and I can’t fathom another way forward without you there by my side. You give me the strength I never knew I was lacking, and make me feel like I’m worthy to rule over the people who call me their prince.” San reached for Yeosang’s trembling hand and pulled it away from his face, no doubt mistaking his reaction for shyness despite the pallor that hollowed his cheeks. 

But San knew the truth. He saw the terror in Yeosang’s eyes, and the way that they darted to Jongho before returning to San with a dark sense of doom. 

“San….you flatter me. But I don’t think—”

“Wait. Let me finish.” San stroked his thumb across Yeosang’s knuckles, ignoring the way they went stiff at his touch. “I know you don’t love me. You’ve all but told me in so many ways. But I think, with time, that I might be able to change your mind! And even if I don’t, that’s alright too! At least we can still be close friends, and the alliance will flourish under our rule.” 

“…The alliance?” Yeosang turned to look at his brother, who beamed at him from atop his carved throne. 

“Between our two kingdoms! Prince San delivered the contract just before you and his cousin arrived. He wanted to surprise you with the announcement, but I insisted he ask you in person first. After all, you’re the one he wants to marry! This entire thing is contingent on you.” 

“…..Oh. I see….” 

Yeosang fell into a horrible silence, and in that time San saw him go through every stage of panic and grief. But none of that could compare to Jongho, whose spine was drawn as tight as a leash as he glared at his cousin with visceral rage and balled his hands into fists by his waist. 

“San! Why is this the first I’m hearing about this?! As Captain of the Royal Guard, I have a right to know what decisions you’re making on behalf of our kingdom and the crown! You can’t just—!”

“But I can,” San retorted, his expression fading into a slight frown. “You may be my cousin, Jongho, but I’m still the Crown Prince. It’s MY responsibility to decide what’s best for our country, not you. Is that understood?” 

A gasp rippled throughout the throne room, followed by the sound of whispering laughter as courtiers gossiped behind their silk fans. But Jongho didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink. He simply looked at Yeosang and then clenched his teeth, a cold mask slipping over his face before he scoffed and punched out a hoarse breath. 

“….Yes, cousin. Of course. Your will is what guides us all. Far be it from me to argue due course.” He spun around and stormed out of the room, leaving Yeosang to drown in his wake as a strangled noise broke free from his lips. 

“Jongho? Wait! Where are you going? Come back, please! Let’s talk about this!” 

But Jongho didn’t come back. He slammed the doors shut with a violent crash, and Yeosang nearly jumped out of his skin before San drew him into a protective embrace. “It’s alright, Yeosang. Don't worry about him. He’s just upset that I left him out of the loop. Give it an hour or two, and I’m sure he’ll be running back to apologize—and to help us celebrate our engagement,” he added, although his voice quivered with a shy undertone as he held out the ring with its mountain of stones. “….We are engaged, aren’t we, Yeosang?” 

“….I….” Yeosang’s eyes fell to the small jewelry box, and he quietly took in the elegant band before reluctantly holding out his left hand. “…Yes. I suppose that we are….”

San’s answering smile could have lit up the world, but all his older self could see was the utter despair in Yeosang’s eyes before the floor below was swallowed up by white mist that sparkled like frost on a clear window pane. But even though the dream was over, a lingering chill still clawed at San’s skin as Yeosang peeled himself away from the railing and sighed with a bittersweet twinge. 

“It’s interesting, isn’t it? How different a memory can look when viewed through another soul’s eyes.” He looked down at the finger that was still wearing San’s ring, and San cringed at the thought of how much it clashed against the crimson silk of his robe. 

“Is that why you did all this? To prove a point?” 

“In a sense…although it wasn’t a conscious decision at first. I was simply dreaming of things that made me happy,” Yeosang explained, dropping his hand back down to his side. “But once I realized you were following me, I seized the opportunity it offered me…a chance to show you my perspective, even if I couldn’t explain it with words.” His voice trailed off into a whisper, and with a hesitant smile he meekly lifted his gaze back to San’s. “I’m sorry, San. I know it was cruel of me, but…did it work?”  

“…Yes, Yeosang. It definitely worked,” San winced, hating himself for the rush of relief that immediately shone within Yeosang’s eyes. “Oh sweetheart…I’m so sorry. How could I have been so blind?” He took the prince’s hand and pressed it tightly to his chest, praying that he could feel his remorse as it leached through his clothes like a pulse. “Please forgive me. I’ve been so selfish. All I’ve ever wanted was to make you happy, but instead I shackled you to me against your will while the truth was staring me right in the face. You didn’t want me. You wanted Jongho. And none of this would’ve happened if I’d just bothered to listen to you—either of you.” 

Yeosang’s fingers twitched against him, reflecting the erratic beat of his heart before he fully sank into his body and allowed San to draw him in close. “No, San. That’s where you’re wrong. Jongho and I share the blame too. We should’ve told you the truth about us a long time ago. But things got so messy after you proposed, and we couldn’t bring ourselves to share our feelings until it was already too late. And then we…”

“What? You what?” 

Yeosang didn’t answer. 

He didn’t need to. 

Jongho was happy to do it for him. 

“Show him, sweetheart,” the younger prince  murmured, stepping out of the shadows just to San’s left with a casual flick of his black velvet cloak. “He won’t understand until he sees for himself.” His dark eyes locked onto San’s, and San held Yeosang just a little bit tighter as the cold mist crept over the balcony and swallowed all three of them up in its depths. 

“He’s right, Yeosang. Show me, please. I want to see what happened next….” 

Chapter Text

There was a sense of finality to the air when the three of them emerged from the mist, as if the realm itself could sense that their time within its borders was coming to an end. But San wasn’t afraid. He stroked his thumb across Yeosang’s wrist and slowly looked around the newly formed room, which was illuminated by several stained glass windows as moonlight poured through their jewel toned panes. 

He recognized them, of course. Just like he recognized the four poster bed with its gauzy pink curtains that took up the entire south corner wall. And why shouldn’t he? He’d seen it only hours before. 

“This is your bedroom,” San murmured, and Yeosang quietly nodded beside him, ushering him and Jongho through a door that San knew would lead deeper into the apartments that he had given Yeosang as a wedding gift. A royal consort needed their own space, after all, and San had grasped quite early on that his fiancé would require it far more than most….

He’d just never bothered to ask himself why. 

The thought made his stomach twist into knots, and San felt an overwhelming need to apologize before Yeosang squeezed his hand and pulled him into an oval-shaped room with a large marble tub placed at its center. It was filled to the brim with hot, soapy water, and San could smell something floral and sweet rising up from the thick coils of steam. 

But it wasn’t the bath that held his attention. No. It was Yeosang, or rather the past version of himself, who sat in the center of the steaming tub with his head resting on the curves of his knees. His skin was flushed, and his hair clung to his temples and cheeks, but even through the haze of black strands San could tell that his fiancé had been crying. The flesh around his eyes was puffy and red, and there was moisture clinging to the tips of his lashes that quivered with every breath that he took.  

“Oh…Yeosang. You look…” San swallowed heavily and bit back the word, although it lingered like poison on the tip of his tongue.

Heartbroken. 

His fiancé looked heartbroken, like a statue carved in a lover’s repose that had been shattered to pieces all over the floor. 

Beside him Yeosang released a low noise, but there was no anger behind it, nor in the soft brown of his gaze. “I suppose it must be strange for you, seeing me like this. I always put up such a strong front when we were together, because I didn’t want you to worry. But when I was alone…well.” He took a seat on a stool near the wall and gestured solemnly to his past self, who had fully buried his face in his legs and was crying now with choked little sobs. “That’s when my true self could come out.”

“….I see,” San whispered, blinking back his own stinging tears. If only he’d known then what he did now, this tragedy never would have come to pass. But there was something about this whole thing that struck him as odd, a missing facet to Yeosang’s story that had his eyes flitting over to Jongho with an accusatory glare. “And where were you? Why weren’t you there to help him through this?” 

His cousin stiffened with surprise and opened his mouth, but before he could speak the door behind him suddenly flew open and crashed against the wall with a loud BANG. It startled everyone in the room, and they all turned to watch as Jongho’s younger self stormed through the doorway, his clothes and armor in complete disarray and riddled with dozens of tiny black scrapes. 

But that wasn’t what San noticed first. No. It was his face. His cousin looked as if he’d been to hell and back, and yet his expression was one of raw hope as he crossed the room and approached the stone tub where Yeosang sat in a cloud of white foam. 

“Yeosang! There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” 

The prince in question shuddered at this, a noise bubbling up from his lips that was neither a cry nor a laugh. “Well congratulations. You found me. Not that you had to look very hard….” 

“….What?” Jongho immediately stopped dead in his tracks, scuffing the heels of his boots on the floor. “What did you say?” 

“You heard me.” Yeosang slowly lifted his chin, glaring at Jongho through the veil of his hair. “I’ve left my kingdom, my home, and my family behind. So where else was I supposed to be, but the rooms your cousin so graciously gave me?” He gripped his knees until his knuckles turned white and punched out another of those awful, wet laughs. “But you….you left! I haven’t seen you for weeks, Jongho! WEEKS! Not since San’s proposal to me!” 

The reminder of that day made Jongho flinch, and he gingerly crossed the last few feet to loom over Yeosang as he continued to scowl within his bath. “Yeosang….I—I’m sorry. I know I was gone for a long time, but I never intended to just disappear.” He reached out a hand towards the prince, but Yeosang recoiled and smacked it away before it ever came close to his skin.  

“I don’t care! You still did it, Jongho,” he cried. “You abandoned me in the throne room that day, even though I begged you to stay! And for what? All so you could run off and sulk, while I was forced to accept a proposal from a man I don’t even love?!”

Jongho visibly stiffened at this, dropping his hand to hang loose at his side. “You’re blaming me for that? Yeosang, you didn’t have to accept! You could have said no—” 

“Really? Could I have?” Yeosang sat up straighter in the white marble bath and brusquely clicked his tongue on his teeth. “You LEFT, Jongho. You left me standing there all on my own, and I had no reason to believe you were ever coming back! Do you have any idea how scary that was? Do you even care?” 

“What? How can you even ask that?! Yes, Yeosang! Of course I care,” Jongho snapped, his features contorting with a raw look of pain as all of the color drained from his face. “And I’m sorry for leaving, but I couldn’t just stand there while San talked down to me as if I were a child! It was disrespectful! I’m his cousin! His family! I—”

“And what about me? What am I,” Yeosang asked, etching his agony into every word. “I thought I meant something to you, Jongho! But maybe that was a mistake. Perhaps my feelings were merely one-sided, and I mistook your kindness for something else…something more,” he added softly, and the other royal tensed with surprise before a look of despair shrouded his eyes. 

“No! You didn’t! Yeosang, please! You have to believe me! I—I’ve been in love with you for weeks,” Jongho confessed, dropping to his knees beside the tub with the loud clank of metal on stone. “I just wasn’t sure if you felt the same way. That’s why I didn’t say anything at first! And then San decided to propose, and everything fucking fell to pieces! I was so angry at him….so betrayed. I wanted to confess right then and there and scream that he couldn’t have you! But….” 

“….You were afraid. Afraid of what he might say,” Yeosang whispered. 

“Yes. It was cowardly of me, I admit it. I should’ve pushed harder. I should’ve told San how I felt. Maybe then we could’ve avoided all this.” Jongho gestured between the two of them, and Yeosang self-consciously lowered his eyes to stare at the foam that shrouded his legs. 

“Maybe…but then again, so could’ve I. Instead I willingly agreed to this farce,” he muttered, lifting his left hand out of the water to stare at his ring with a withering gloom. “….I’m sorry, Jongho. I’m such a hypocrite. You didn’t deserve to be yelled at like that….” 

“Yeosang. No. You’re not a hypocrite. You were upset. And you have every right to be,” Jongho breathed, taking the prince’s hand in his so he could bring it to his lips for a kiss. “I know I already said it once, but I’m sorry, Yeosang. Truly. I never should’ve left you like that, and especially not for as long as I did. But I couldn’t come back, do you understand? Not until I found a way for us to escape from this mess.” 

An uncomfortable feeling slithered its way down the back of San’s spine, and he couldn’t help but shift on his feet as Yeosang warily looked up from the bath and curled his fingers around Jongho’s wrist. 

“Jongho…what does that mean? Why would we need to escape? Surely we can just talk to San and explain that there are feelings between us…?” 

“Tch. And then what,” Jongho scoffed. “San will just brush us off like he’s done in the past. No, Yeosang. The time for talking is over now. We have to try something else.” He gently broke free from Yeosang’s grip and reached into the folds of his cloak, withdrawing a crystal vial filled with a lavender colored liquid that nearly made San’s jaw drop to the floor. 

He knew that vial. 

He’d seen it before. 

“Is that…a sleeping curse,” San whispered, turning back to face his cousin as the world around them faded to smoke. “No, don’t tell me. Jongho….it was you? You’re the one who gave Yeosang the curse?”

Chapter Text

Time seemed to grind to a halt as Jongho calmly met his eyes, and in that moment San saw the truth that his cousin had been trying so desperately to hide. But more than that—San saw jealousy. Pain. A guilt so profound that it threatened to crush him beneath its weight and possibly even shatter his soul. 

“…..Yes. I did it. It was me,” Jongho confessed, and San released a shaky breath that rattled him down to his very bones. 

“Of course…I should’ve known. That’s why you were so against coming here, wasn’t it? Because you were afraid I’d find out what you‘ve done.” He laughed to himself and clutched at his chest, afraid that he might come apart at the seams. “…Well thank you for finally being honest with me. I just wish that you’d done it sooner.” 

“Oh San, so do we. But you have to understand, none of this was part of the plan. We never set out to willfully hurt you,” Yeosang whispered, reaching out to touch his wrist before San gently pulled it away. 

“But you did. You DID hurt me, Yeosang…..just like I hurt you,” he added softly, giving his fiancé a strained smile that fractured his dimples in two. “Yes….after everything that's happened, I can see how my actions made you two think that you had to go down this path, and I can’t in good conscience judge you for it—although I still don’t understand what results you were hoping for. I mean, a sleeping curse? How was that ever going to work? And where in the world did you even get it?” 

Yeosang and Jongho exchanged a look, with the latter exhaling a sigh through his nose. 

“….Have you really not figured it out? It’s dark magic, San. Obviously it came from Seonghwa.”  

“Seonghwa—you mean the sorcerer?! That Seonghwa,” San gasped, and Jongho begrudgingly nodded his head. 

“Yes. The very same,” he muttered. “I’d heard tales of a sorcerer skilled with such things, so I left Yeosang’s kingdom in order to find him so that I could beg for his help. Unfortunately I had no way of knowing that he was only one half of the story, or that he would betray me so easily. Him and that minuscule partner of his,” Jongho muttered, a hint of annoyance sharpening his tone. 

“Hongjoong. His name is Hongjoong,” San reminded, causing his cousin to scoff with a pout. 

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter. The point is that he and Seonghwa willingly gave me the curse, knowing full well who I intended it for.” 

“Right…but to do what, exactly? You still haven’t explained what your plan was,” San frowned, searching his cousin’s face for the answer that eventually came in the form of a scowl. 

“Isn’t it obvious? We thought you’d break off the engagement once you realized that Yeosang would never wake up.”

It was such a simple answer, all things considered, and yet the bluntness of it hit San like a shield as he stared at the two with a look of pure shock. 

“Break the engagement? But why would I do that? Cursed or not, he’s still my fiancé! I care about him! About you,” he stressed, giving Yeosang his full attention as the prince subconsciously inched closer to Jongho, brushing the backs of their hands together. The gesture was harmless, but the familiarity behind it made San want to scream and pull out every strand of his hair. 

….But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not anymore. So he forced himself to take a step backwards, providing the prince with some much needed space even as he pushed for more of the answers he craved. 

“Yeosang…please. Did you really believe that? That I would abandon you in your hour of need?” 

Yeosang opened his mouth, then shut it, visibly squirming beneath his silk robe. “…I….thought that you wouldn’t have a choice. You’re the Crown Prince, San. That comes with certain responsibilities...” 

“Exactly. Like having a fiancé who isn’t cursed to eternal sleep,” Jongho mumbled, although at least he had the decency to look ashamed of himself—not that it made San feel any better. 

“So…what? I was just supposed to accept you were gone? That there was nothing I could do to save you from this?!” San gestured wildly to the world around them, which continued to swirl with cold wisps of mist that licked at the bare skin of his neck. “Yeosang, that was never going to happen! And even if it did, then what?! It’s not like you two could go gallivanting off into the sunset together! Word would’ve gotten out about your condition! I would’ve had to tell your brother—did you two even think about that?” 

“….We did, yes,” Yeosang agreed, nervously picking at the edge of his sleeve. “That’s actually one of the things we were counting on. Yunho has always been very protective of me. If he learned about the sleeping curse, he would’ve demanded that you annul our engagement and send me home with a full royal escort.” 

“Which I would’ve led out of respect for your grief,” Jongho added, brushing his thumb across Yeosang’s knuckles. “And once we were there, I could’ve explained our situation to Yunho and broken the curse myself…once it was safe to do so, of course.”

“…..You mean after I met someone new to court,” San deduced, and the two exchanged another long look that spoke volumes more than words ever could. “Well. I’m sorry I destroyed all of your carefully laid plans. You clearly worked very hard on them, instead of just trying to talk to me,” he huffed, folding his arms across his chest while Jongho immediately puffed up with a glare. 

“We DID try, San! Multiple times! But—!”

“But,” Yeosang cut in, giving Jongho’s fingers a squeeze. “We should’ve tried harder, instead of lying to you the way that we did. You didn’t deserve that, San. You didn’t deserve any of this…” 

Something vicious and ugly coiled inside San, and he could feel it poised to slide up his throat and lash out in penance for all his grief. But the harder he tried to hold onto this feeling, the easier it was to let it go. Because at the end of the day hadn’t he played his own role in this mess? He couldn’t keep claiming that he was the victim while ignoring all of the pain he had caused. It wouldn't be fair to Yeosang or Jongho, and it certainly wouldn’t be fair to himself. 

No. San needed to face the truth, even if it meant losing the one person he loved more than his own flesh and blood. 

“……You’re right. I didn’t. But neither did you,” he whispered, reaching for Yeosang’s trembling left hand. Yeosang allowed him to take it without much of a fuss, but his pupils were round and a little too wide as San slipped the engagement ring off of his finger and then kissed the faint mark that remained in its place. 

“San? What are you doing…?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m freeing you,” he replied, releasing Yeosang’s hand so he could slide the ring into his pocket, just in time for the mists around them to part like shadows and allow a ray of light to shine through. 

San knew what it meant. Dawn was approaching in the real world, and his time here was coming to a close. But there was still one thing that he needed to do, so he forced himself to give Yeosang a smile that felt as frayed at the corners like a piece of rope and threatened to unravel with every breath that he took. 

“….I love you, Yeosang. Truly, I do. And I’m sorry for everything that’s happened between us. I hope one day we can look back on this moment and forgive each other for all the pain that we’ve caused.”

“…Oh San. I hope so too.” Yeosang’s eyes glossed over with tears, and he curled himself into Jongho’s arms as the knight turned to San with an oddly intense look on his face. He wanted to say something, San could tell, but before he could try San shook his head and held up his wrist, where his golden ribbon continued to sparkle like a star shooting across the night sky. 

“Shall we, cousin? I think I’m ready to wake up from this mess.” 

Jongho’s expression flickered ever so slightly, and for a brief moment San saw something truly gut wrenching before it was replaced yet again by a blank mask: yearning. His cousin may not regret the things he had done, but he’d only ever done them out of love for Yeosang. And he desperately needed San to understand that, even if he’d never forgive him for it. 

“….It’s okay, Jongho. I do. I do understand,” San whispered, and Jongho’s mouth dipped down at the corners as a lone tear trickled down his round cheek. But he didn’t speak. He just lifted his arm and waited for San, who felt his eyes sting with a wave of fresh tears as he grasped his silk ribbon and began to count down in a low, shaky voice. 

“One…” 

“Two…” 

“…Three,” Jongho finished, and with one last look at each other they tore off their ribbons and cast them aside, plunging their world into a pool of bright light that immediately forced San to clamp his eyes shut. But even then he could still feel the light as it cascaded over the plains of his face, brushing his temple and jaw and the curve of his lips with luminous strokes of gold and pale pink. 

Did that mean it worked? 

Were they back? 

Was Yeosang…

“—Your Highness?”  

“Prince San? Are you alright?” 

Two voices suddenly cut through the sunlight and shrouded his thoughts in a cool, numbing haze. San half thought he was imagining it until he cracked his eyes open and saw Hongjoong and Seonghwa leaning over his side of the bed, blocking out the light with their robe-covered bodies as they stared at him with a look of intrigue. 

“There he is. Congratulations, My Prince! You and your cousin are the first people to ever wake from a sleeping curse without the need of true love’s kiss!” Hongjoong patted him lightly on the arm, as if congratulating him for his achievement, while Seonghwa merely released a cool hum and offered San a polite little nod. 

“It is quite the feat, My Prince. You two should be very proud of yourselves…even if the curse was only temporary, of course.” 

San’s flesh prickled at the soft jab, but he didn’t let it get to him. There wasn’t time. 

“You said we’re the first ones. Is Jongho awake too?” 

“…He is. See for yourself.” Seonghwa gestured calmly to the other side of the bed, and after blinking away the last vestiges of sleep San looked over and saw that his cousin was not only awake, but propped up and cradling something on his lap that was draped in thin layers of sheer, airy rose. Layers that rustled with a faint hint of movement as the figure beneath began to stir, awakening from his deep seated slumber by the kiss that Jongho pressed to his lips. 

….Oh. 

Of course. 

San really should’ve been expecting that. 

Swallowing hard, he turned away the second he heard Yeosang take a breath and whisper something into the dawn air. He didn’t need to know what it was. All that mattered was that Yeosang was awake, and everything was going to be okay. 

….Well. Almost everything. 

“My Prince?” Hongjoong’s voice pulled his attention away, and San could’ve sobbed with relief when the sorcerer calmly held out his spindly right hand. He took it gratefully and allowed the smaller man to help him out of the lavender-soaked bed, his nose absolutely filled with the scent as it clung like miasma to his clothes and his hair. 

It was too much. 

San couldn’t take it. 

He needed to get out of this room. 

“…San? Where are you going?”

San didn’t turn back when he heard Jongho’s question, nor when his cousin murmured something to Yeosang that sounded like glass shattering in his ears. “I’m sorry, Jongho. I need to be alone right now. I’m sure you understand.” He relinquished Hongjoong’s hand and crossed the room in a blur of fresh tears, a numbness creeping into his veins that carried with it a need for release. 

He needed time. Time to breathe, time to think. Time to absorb everything that had happened, and figure out what to do going forward. But, most importantly, San needed to get out of that room and away from the two whom he loved most. Not forever. Just for now, until he—

“San…..thank you.” 

Yeosang’s sweet whisper pierced through his heart like a poison tipped arrow, and San felt himself stumble as he grabbed the door handle with a bone crushing grip and smiled in a way that didn’t seem real. 

“I….you’re welcome, Yeosang. I hope you’ll be happy with him,” he whispered, and he heard Yeosang release another soft, shaky breath before San fled into the hallway beyond and didn’t once dare to look back. 

Chapter Text

~ a few weeks later~

“But we still don’t understand!”

“Why did you break off your engagement?!”

“My Prince, please! You have to explain yourself!”

San sighed and leaned back in his seat, allowing the wooden back of the throne to dig into his shoulders as he pondered the small but rather loud group of people that had gathered before him at the foot of his dais. 

He should answer their questions. Then they’d be satisfied and leave him alone. But try as he might, he couldn’t force the words to take shape. They just lingered on the tip of his tongue and tainted his mouth with a bittersweet hint, like tea brewed for entirely too long and saturated with honey to make up for the taste. 

“Your Highness?” 

Another voice joined the annoying barrage, and San reluctantly turned to look at the royal who sat beside him on a matching gilt chair. He’d commissioned it as a gift for his consort, and yet Yeosang was not the one who sat on the throne with a crown of gold resting on his hair. No. That honor belonged to his brother, Yunho, who had traveled all the way from the Bluebird Isles in order to help San make sense of this mess. And he was eternally grateful to the older royal, even though he couldn’t help feeling a little bit shy every time Yunho so much as smiled at him. 

“Your Highness,” Yunho repeated, keeping his tone intentionally soft as he reached across the arm of the throne and patted San lightly on his wrist. “Your counselors are trying to speak with you. And I don’t think they’re going to stop until they get their way.” 

“…I know. But there’s nothing I can say. Not really, anyway,” San muttered, and Yunho gave him a sympathetic look. 

“Then make something up. They don’t need all of the details, do they?” 

San made a face at this, his dimples fading into the skin of his cheeks. “Definitely not.” No one needed to know what had happened between him, Yeosang and Jongho except for the three of them, the sorcerers—and Yunho, of course. Yunho, who had been stunned to learn of his brother’s affair and had promptly agreed to amend the arrangement that would cement their kingdoms as allies and friends. It was the best outcome San could’ve hoped for, except now he had to deal with his overbearing counselors who wouldn’t stop pecking at him like a pack of vultures. 

“My Prince, please! You have to say something!” 

“The servants are starting to grow suspicious! They’ve noticed that Prince Yeosang is gone!” 

Gone…yes. Of course he was gone. Because someone had to sit on the throne while Yunho was here, and who better to do it than his own flesh and blood? Never mind that Jongho had left with him, but not as Captain of the Royal Guard. That title had been officially stripped from him once San named him ambassador to the Bluebird Isles. Now he could ensure that their kingdoms remained in close contact long after Yunho returned to his court—and his engagement to Yeosang would help matters too. 

“Your Highness…” 

Yunho’s gentle voice tickled his ears again, and San heaved another long sigh before he leaned forward in his too fancy throne and stared down his nose at the small group of men. 

“Fine. You want details? Allow me to provide them to you. Prince Yeosang and I annulled our engagement a fortnight ago. It was completely amicable, as it had become clear to us both that we weren’t compatible as anything but friends. I wish him well, and I know that he would say the same about me.” 

Hm. Not a lie, exactly. But not the truth either.

“But what about the alliance?! The trade deals,” a councilman cried. “They were made with the intention of securing a marriage!”

San’s jaw tightened just a degree, irritation beginning to darken his eyes. “And a marriage will still happen. It just won’t be mine.” He cleared his throat and leaned forward slightly, resisting the urge to leap off his throne. “My cousin Jongho will wed Prince Yeosang. His Majesty and I have both agreed that their union will preserve the spirit of the treaty, while fostering a better reunion at heart.”

In short: Yeosang and Jongho were far better suited for one another, and their marriage would still be a royal match, which was all anyone should really care about. 

The huddle of councilmen muttered at this, but it was clear that they couldn’t find any fault in San’s logic. One of them did seem less appeased than the others though, and San could see their question taking shape long before it ever fell free from their lips. 

“But what about you, My Prince? You are the heir to the throne. You need a consort to rule by your side.” 

“Yes. That’s true...” San hid a small grimace at this, tapping his fingers on the edge of his throne while he caught Yunho watching him from the corner of his eye. “…There are dozens of princes and princesses out there. I’m sure one of them will be willing to have me,” he finally replied, and Yunho’s gaze crinkled with sympathy before lighting up with a genuine warmth. 

“Kings too, Your Highness. Don’t sell yourself short! Just because you weren't right for my brother doesn’t mean you won’t find someone else.” 

The king’s words made a curious heat settle deep in San’s belly, and he couldn’t help but offer Yunho a smile that felt slightly more genuine with each passing moment.  

“Thank you, Your Majesty. I appreciate your kindness, and your candor. I can see where your brother gets it from.”

The words slipped out before San could think, and he could hear whispers erupt from all of his councilmen as they flocked together and ducked their heads low. They were talking about him. Of course they were. And while San had his suspicions regarding what about, he didn’t have the heart nor the curiosity to care. 

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Now they’ll never shut up about it,” he muttered, but Yunho waved off his apology and chuckled quietly under his breath. 

“Let them talk. I don’t care. But maybe you should take a break, Your Highness. Get some fresh air?” 

“Fresh air…right. That’s probably a good idea.” San rose to his feet and bowed to Yunho, giving his knuckles a chaste, fleeting kiss. “Your Majesty.” 

“Your Highness. Have a nice walk,” Yunho smiled, and San politely dipped his head in response before he left the throne room and his council behind. They were still whispering when he closed the doors tightly behind him, but none of them tried to stop him. Perhaps they knew better, or they just didn’t care now that they’d gotten some answers out of him. Either way, San appreciated the silence as he walked through the palace all by himself, the corridors shining a rich amber gold as sunlight streamed in through the towering windows. 

It was almost nostalgic, in a way. He’d walked a path very similar to this one that day when his entire world changed. But things were different now, and San couldn’t do anything about it except look to the future and try to move forward. 

It was just…hard. 

So very hard. 

He missed Yeosang. He missed him more than he’d ever thought possible. And he missed Jongho too, in a way that made his entire body ache as if a piece of himself had been carved out. Yes, they’d both lied to him, and conspired against him, but at the end of the day San loved them dearly, and he really did hope they were happy together. A love like theirs was rare in this world, and it deserved to be cherished above all else. He just wished…

Well. Perhaps one day he could experience it too. 

“One can only hope,” San murmured to himself, and he turned to watch through the nearest window as the sun began to sink in the sky and paint the world in a tourmaline hue….