Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The Starblessing.

A time-honored festival observed across the land since ages past.

Every autumn, when the last of the harvest had been brought in and the first full moon of late October rose over the kingdom, the people celebrated it.

For men and women of marriageable age, it was a season unto itself. From every corner of the kingdom they poured into the streets, mingling freely, each openly in search of someone who might be their match.

The kingdom was, on the whole, a conservative place when it came to matters between men and women — but the Starblessing was the one annual exception. If something a little scandalous unfolded, it tended to be waved off with a knowing, “Well, it’s the Starblessing.” And if two people found each other — or if new life arrived some months later as a result — it was received not with censure but with joy, regarded as a blessing from the Moon Goddess herself. A wedding afterward was more or less expected.

This year, as surely as every year before it, the Starblessing season had arrived — and the restless, giddy mood that came with it had swept all the way into Sogeon’s small village.

Not that anyone was more swept up in it than Sogeon himself.

“Geon, dear — there’s really no need to rush. The Starblessing isn’t going anywhere.”

His mother said this. Sogeon couldn’t quite bring himself to slow down.

The village he called home sat to the north of the capital — small, but with everything a person needed, and the kind of close-knit community where neighbours helped each other without being asked. Still, however clean the air and pure the water and warm the people, a village was a village. It could hardly compare to the lights and bustle of the capital.

His family was comfortable enough by local standards, but a trip to the capital was no small expense. Getting there alone cost money, and once you arrived, more always seemed to find a way out of your pocket.

Which made the Starblessing the one time each year he could go without feeling guilty about it — at least until he was married, anyway.

And beyond the simple pleasure of a day in the city, the festival had its own particular pull. This was the season when young men and women of marriageable age could move freely, meet who they liked, part ways without obligation — each one openly in search of someone worth keeping. No young man with any spirit would be unmoved by that.

Sogeon was as ordinary as they came, and like most young men his age, he had his share of dreams about love arriving the way it did in stories — sudden, and certain, and impossible to mistake. There were pretty girls in the village, of course, but there was something everyone wanted at least once: the romance of a stranger. A face you’d never seen. A life you’d only glimpse for a moment, somewhere a little farther from home than you’d ever been.

His parents had always said they didn’t care who it was, as long as Sogeon was happy — but if he was going to meet someone, he wanted to meet someone worth meeting. Not to impress anyone else. For himself. A grand ambition, perhaps, for a country boy from a village most people couldn’t find on a map — but there it was.

The past two years, the festival had come and gone without a single soul who felt like a true match — but this year, surely —

Holding that thought close, Sogeon climbed into the carriage bound for the capital.

The Starblessing in the capital was, as ever, a spectacle that brooked no comparison.

Lined with shops on both sides, the streets teemed with people whose faces were alight with excitement. Moving through the crowd in the finest clothes his mother had sewn for him — made from the best fabric the village had to offer — Sogeon let his gaze drift sideways, stealing glances at the women who passed.

The Starblessing drew people from every corner of the kingdom, of course, but the vast majority were from the capital itself, or the towns close by. City people, in other words.

And city people had a certain quality about them, no question — the women he passed were far more polished and refined than the ones he knew back home. But none of them made him want to walk over and strike up a conversation. There was something about them that felt just out of reach. A subtle distance he couldn’t quite name.

‘Well — even if I don’t end up meeting anyone, there’s plenty else to see at a festival like this—’

Across the way, a band had set up and was already mid-performance, and right beside them, a troupe of what appeared to be acrobats was putting on all manner of astonishing feats. Back in the village, you’d be lucky to catch something like that even once a year. He’d come all this way — he may as well see everything properly.

He was just weighing up where to start when, from somewhere nearby, an impossibly lovely melody began to drift his way.

With the help of some curious contrivance, the music suddenly swelled— and then launched into playing an enormous stringed instrument unlike anything Sogeon had ever seen. The tune, though — that he recognized. It was an old song, unmistakably. A very old one, about love between a man and a woman. He couldn’t recall the title, but—

It had a quick, lively tempo, the kind of song that back in the village would have everyone rushing together the moment someone started singing it, the whole lot of them ending up in a sprawling, joyful dance. Here, too, the moment the melody rang out — sure enough. Men and women gathered in twos and threes, pairing off and falling into step. The difference, if there was one, was that back home everyone just danced however they liked, no particular form to it — whereas here, the whole crowd was moving in the precise, practiced steps of a formal social dance.

Sogeon, who had not the faintest idea how a formal social dance was supposed to go, stood quietly at the edge of it all and watched.

‘...So even just joining in a dance isn’t easy when you’re from the countryside.’

He was still thinking that when, suddenly — someone grabbed his arm from the side.

“A dance — will you? With me.”

Sogeon’s ears pricked up. That was... a man’s voice.

I’m not exactly slight of build. Surely he doesn’t think I’m a woman—?

He turned, and got a look at the man’s face, and—

...Damn.

Sogeon felt the heat rise to his cheeks before he could stop it.

...He’s stunning. Absurdly so. Even a man could fall for a face like that...

“...I don’t really know how to dance. I’ve never even learned the basic steps.”

“I’ll lead. All you have to do is follow.”

The man said this, and Sogeon — without much deliberation — simply let himself be guided.

Two men dancing together would probably look a bit ridiculous. But there was no woman to dance with anyway.

...And more to the point — he was gorgeous.

If I’m not going to get a dance with a beautiful woman, a beautiful man is a perfectly decent substitute, I suppose—

Contrary to his earlier worries, Sogeon found himself following the man’s lead rather well.

“You said you’d never danced — but you’re quite good.”

“That’s because you lead well. I genuinely have no idea about any of the refined side of things...”

At Sogeon’s words, the man smiled — quiet and deeply satisfied, as though something had gone exactly as he’d hoped.

That face, smiling — it was devastating enough that Sogeon felt the warmth rise to his cheeks all over again.

...Have I always had a thing for faces? Men included?

The song ended. They bowed briefly to each other — and then, without any warning at all, the man pulled Sogeon into his arms.

“Wh — what—?”

Sogeon’s eyes went wide. And there, close to his ear, the man murmured — quietly:

“...I suppose hoping you’d recognize me — just like this, all of a sudden — was asking too much.”

Hm?

What is he talking about—? Sogeon blinked and stared, wide-eyed. The man looked back at him with a gentle smile, and said only this:

“We’ll meet again. Soon.”

And then — quite out of nowhere —

Warm lips pressed lightly to Sogeon’s forehead, then lifted away.

“...What?”

His face went scarlet, and the colour spread down to his neck. By the time he came back to himself, the man had already vanished into the crowd.

Sogeon’s hand flew up to his burning cheek, then drifted slowly to his forehead — to the spot where those lips had just been.

...Did a man just court me?

And am I actually flustered over his face right now?

There, in the thick of the capital’s festival night, Sogeon found himself wondering for the very first time in his life whether he might simply be helpless in the face of beauty, regardless of gender.

After the Starblessing came to a close, Sogeon returned home — and spent the days that followed in a state that could only be described as vaguely, persistently dazed. Day and night alike.

‘Who on earth was that person.’

He turned the thought over in his mind — the impossibly handsome stranger who had appeared out of nowhere on that festival night, asked him for a dance, and then vanished just as suddenly — as he halfheartedly unpacked a travel bag he still hadn’t gotten around to. He’d gone to the festival to meet women and come home utterly bewitched by a man. His friends in the village would double over laughing if they ever found out — but what could he do. It wasn’t as though he’d had any say in the matter — that person was simply the most beautiful man he had ever seen.

Same-sex marriage was legal in the kingdom. It hadn’t always, because the Church had once forbidden it on religious grounds.

Until roughly a hundred years ago, when two heirs to the kingdom's most powerful ducal houses fell in love with each other. When the Church had tried to forcibly tear them apart in the name of religion, the two had fled together — and taken their own lives. The resulting upheaval had thrown the entire country into chaos.

For the heir of a ducal house, producing the next generation was considered life's foremost duty — but the shockwaves from such an heir dying so suddenly were equally enormous. The balance of power within the family, carefully arranged around a settled line of succession, shifted overnight; affairs already handed over to the heir ground to a halt.

Both of the kingdom’s most powerful noble houses thrown into simultaneous, unforeseen disarray — and with it, the machinery of state itself — the reigning king at the time had been incandescent with fury. He suppressed the Church’s opposition by force, then simply issued a royal decree legalizing same-sex marriage across the board. His reasoning, reportedly, was as follows: ‘Any of this would not have happened if we’d just let them sort it out by themselves from the start.’

After all that, the Church had been left with little choice but to make its peace with reality — and in the end, by now, a union between two men or two women was no longer considered especially remarkable. Or so they say.

‘It just never occurred to me that any of that would ever apply to me.’

It amounted to no more than a puppy love crush on a pretty girl from next door, but even so — Sogeon was, by every measure, an ordinary young man who had only ever been interested in women. At every Starblessing he’d ever attended, his attention had gone entirely toward the women. He would swear it on the heavens themselves: not once had he so much as glanced twice at a man.

‘Apparently... if the beauty is transcendent... that changes things entirely.’

Even so — there was no way to meet the man again. His parents had always said, practically as a catchphrase, ‘we don’t care who it is, as long as our Geonnie can be happy’ — but that was only when you actually knew who the other person was. This was someone he’d met only in passing, a brief, strange encounter — a person whose name he didn’t even know.

Even if Sogeon found himself with feelings for the man — if there was no way to see him again, there was no point in thinking about it any further.

We’ll meet again. Soon.

...Come to think of it — hadn’t that man said something like that?

Why had he said that?

How did he expect to meet Sogeon again — not knowing his name, not knowing where he lived?

“M — M-M-M-MOTHER!!! FATHER!!! BROTHER!!! S-SOMETHING’S HAPPENING HERE!!!!”

A frantic shriek came from downstairs.

His youngest sister.

Sogeon, who had been absently unpacking in a daze, startled and ran for the stairs. What on earth — what could possibly make her scream like that. In a small village like this, something worth genuine alarm was a rare enough thing—

...Scratch that. That was worth genuine alarm.

Because there, parked directly in front of Sogeon’s house, was an extraordinarily magnificent carriage — bearing, unmistakably, the royal seal.

When Sogeon appeared, glancing around in bewilderment, his youngest sister came dashing over to him — face flushed, expression caught somewhere between panicked and about to burst into tears — and flung herself into his arms, already beginning to sob.

“What — what is it. What’s wrong—?”

Sogeon moved to soothe her, alarmed, as his parents came toward him, faces tight with worry. His mother hesitated — and then spoke.

“W-well, Geon, I don’t quite understand it myself—”

His Majesty the King... has sent this carriage by His Majesty's command. To bring you to the royal palace.

It seems that he wishes to take you as his consort...

Silence.

Silence.

And again, silence.

After a long, long pause, Sogeon let out a thoroughly dazed sound.

“...Hm?”

Who — me?

The King’s consort? Me?

...Why?

“Might you be Master Sogeon?”

From behind the carriage stepped a young man who had knight written all over him.

Sogeon blinked. The voice had said his name, he was fairly sure — but the address was so formal, so impossibly elevated, that it took him a good three seconds to connect it to himself.

“Oh — yes, that’s me...”

“A pleasure. Haru Inoue, of the Kingdom’s Order of Knights. His Majesty the King has sent me to escort you to the palace — Master Sogeon, soon to be His Majesty’s royal consort.”

When Sogeon’s only response was to keep blinking, Haru apparently decided the problem was disbelief — that it must all seem too extraordinary to be real. He produced a royal edict, signed and sealed by the King himself, and held it out with the patient air of a man who had clearly expected this reaction.

It was a kind gesture. But that wasn’t quite where Sogeon’s confusion was coming from.

“Yes, I — I believe you, it’s just... why me? I don’t think I’ve ever even met His Majesty.”

“That, I genuinely couldn’t tell you. I go where I’m sent.” A brief pause. “In any case — the carriage is ready, and His Majesty is waiting. Any questions you have, you’ll get your answers far sooner from him than from me.”

He wasn’t wrong. Perfectly reasonable, in fact — except that the person Sogeon was supposed to go and question happened to be the king of an entire nation, which made the whole thing considerably more daunting in practice.

But daunting or not, it made no difference. A royal summons wasn’t the kind of thing you said no to.

He packed quickly — only the bare essentials — and climbed in. His family was in an uproar; the villagers had gathered, buzzing with whispers; his younger sister was in tears. Sogeon kept his face as steady as he could and turned to say goodbye.

“...I’ll be back.”

He had no idea if that was true.

The royal carriage rolled down the slope and away, bearing him toward the capital.

The inside of the carriage was quiet. Not a word passed between the two of them — Sogeon and Haru — for the entirety of the ride. The only sound that drifted in through the small window was the steady rhythm of hooves against the road.

Sogeon, who found the silence physically unbearable, shifted and fidgeted in his seat — then threw out the first question that came to mind.

“His Majesty the King... what kind of person is he?”

Haru looked briefly caught off guard, as though he hadn’t expected to be spoken to — but he recovered quickly, answering in a measured voice.

“If you’re asking me... I’d probably say: strong, but kind.”

“Strong, but kind?”

“He did, after all, outmaneuver his half-brother — Grand Duke Raimund — and claim the throne for himself. There was no shortage of people backing the Grand Duke’s side when His Majesty was young.”

Sogeon turned that over in his mind. Now that he thought about it, the whole kingdom had been in an uproar over something like that a few years back. The second prince, who’d shown no interest in the throne for years, had suddenly begun building his power base — and then, in one decisive move, swept aside the first prince’s faction and taken the crown. Or something like that. It had all seemed like a world entirely removed from his own, and he’d let it wash over him without much thought.

“But — even if they were half-brothers, if the Grand Duke was the elder, wouldn’t he have been higher in the line of succession?”

“Under the principle of primogeniture, yes — but His Majesty’s situation was rather more complicated than that. Grand Duke Raimund was registered under the late king’s name, but in truth, he was the illegitimate son of the king before him — born very late in that king’s life.”

Ah.

“The king before last took a certain noblewoman as his mistress late in life, and the child born from that affair was Grand Duke Raimund.

By then, however, the line of succession had already long been settled, and much of the kingdom’s affairs had effectively passed into the hands of the late king. Neither the noble family involved nor the king before last himself was particularly eager to acknowledge a child born so late and under such circumstances, and for a time, there was even talk of removing the boy from the royal family altogether.

In the end, it was only after considerable pressure had been brought to bear on the then-Crown Princess — the woman who would later become Queen — that he was registered under Her Highness’s name, as though she had graciously accepted the old king’s illegitimate son as her own.

The late king, for his part, never once took a mistress in his entire life and was devoted solely to the Queen. By all accounts, he was rather displeased by the arrangement.

Strictly speaking, under the principle of primogeniture, succession passes first to the legitimate eldest son of the reigning king. From the late king’s perspective, then, His Majesty had always been the rightful heir.

The dispute, in the end, was less a matter of which half-brother should take precedence, and more a question of whose claim carried greater legitimacy: Grand Duke Raimund, the illegitimate son of the king before last, or His Majesty, the legitimate firstborn son of the late king.”

He’d only wanted to make conversation. He hadn’t exactly been bracing himself for a royal history lesson.

“...Strong — alright, I guess I understand. But kind?”

“Ah, as for that—”

Haru considered for a moment, then turned to Sogeon with an easy, warm smile.

“I think you’d be better off finding that out for yourself, once you’ve met him.”

Sogeon did not look particularly reassured. Haru let out a good-natured laugh.

“There’s nothing to worry about. His Majesty takes very good care of his people.”

The carriage passed through the gates of the magnificent palace. Haru saw him off at the entrance, and Sogeon walked alone down a seemingly endless corridor toward what he’d been told was the royal audience chamber.

...Honestly, even now, all of this felt a little... unreal.

A country boy, suddenly summoned by royal command to have an audience with the king — that alone was surreal enough. But the reason for said audience being that he’d been chosen as the king’s royal consort?

With every step down that corridor, Sogeon entertained the growing suspicion that this was someone’s idea of a very poor joke.

Or — wait, what if they had the wrong person entirely? There were a few girls in the village with names a little like his, and maybe someone had written down the wrong name while looking for one of them — except that the surname So was hardly common anywhere in the kingdom, let alone in his particular village, so that didn’t quite hold up.

Was it some kind of trap, then? Maybe his father had accidentally cheated someone on a business trip to the capital — except that they were farmers who sold surplus grain on the side, so the worst he’d ever done was probably charge a few extra coins for a sack of barley.

Which meant the only conclusion left was that His Majesty had genuinely, actually, chosen him as some kind of royal consort.

But where had the king even seen him? He had no memory of meeting His Majesty — let alone having a conversation with him.

And wasn’t the whole business of selecting a royal consort supposed to involve someone from, at minimum, a decent family? What exactly was the plan here — taking a village commoner, a man at that, and making him a royal consort—?

A thousand thoughts were churning through his head when he somehow arrived at the doors of the audience chamber.

His heart was hammering. His stomach had lurched itself into a state where he was fairly certain that if he were sick right here on the threshold, the bread and omelette he’d had for breakfast would make a swift reappearance — but the attendants, bless them, spotted him immediately and swung the doors open with practiced efficiency.

Sogeon walked on trembling legs down the length of the room, feet sinking into the carpet beneath him.

He couldn’t bring himself to look up, so his gaze stayed fixed on the floor.

Hm. Palace carpets really are on a different level. All silk, by the look of it — the whole length of it. And that embroidery, is that gold thread? Real gold, woven in? And the dye — the color’s extraordinary. You’d never get anything like this back home; nothing they ever dyed in the village came out looking like—

He was in the middle of this thoroughly useless train of thought when a voice called out to him.

“Why don’t you raise your head?”

...Wait.

That voice. I — I’ve heard that voice somewhere—

“Raise your head. I’d like to see your face.”

We’ll meet again. Soon.

......There was no mistaking it.

That voice. It was, without question, the voice of—

Sogeon looked up.

And there, before him, was a face he knew all too well. A face he had not forgotten for a single day since that one brief encounter at the Starblessing.

“It’s been a while.”

I told you, didn’t I. That we’d meet again soon.

Sogeon, reunited with that breathtakingly handsome face in the middle of the royal audience chamber — fainted.

Right where he stood.

Mom. Dad. Little sis.

I think... something a little too far beyond explanation... has happened to my life.

“...I’d appreciate it if you stopped laughing, Your Majesty.”

Face flushed a deep, mortified crimson, still firmly trapped in the king's arms, Sogeon grumbled this in a thoroughly put-upon tone. From somewhere behind him, the king was doing his very best — and failing — to smother his laughter. When Sogeon had first come to and found himself cradled in the king’s arms, he’d been flustered enough to try and struggle free — but the man had not stopped laughing since, and at this point, titles and propriety and being held by royalty could all see themselves out. He was simply embarrassed.

Well — but could anyone blame him. Finding out that the breathtaking stranger from the Starblessing was a real person he was actually meeting again was one thing. Finding out that said breathtaking stranger was the king of the realm — and that he’d been summoned to become said king’s royal consort —

The king, who had been laughing for quite some time, finally caught the truly sulky look on Sogeon’s face and reined himself in. He wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes and drew Sogeon properly into his arms.

“I’m sorry. Your reaction was just... so very you. So adorable — I couldn’t help it.”

The word adorable hit Sogeon square in the face, and what little sulkiness remained gave way entirely to red. Because — regardless of all the consort business — was that really the sort of word a grown man used for another grown man?

“...By the way, Your Majesty.”

“Hm?”

Sogeon thought for a moment, then finally voiced the question that had been stuck in his throat since the carriage ride over.

“Why... did you decide to take me as your consort?”

“...”

“We’ve only met the once — at the Starblessing. The time we spent together could have been enjoyable for you, and honestly, it was enjoyable for me too, but... we don’t know each other. And it’s not as though I bring any useful connections or background to the table.”

The king was quiet for a moment. Then, with a slow, easy smile, he drew Sogeon closer and murmured:

“I fell for you the moment I saw you — would that answer do?”

...That face. That voice. Together like that, it’s genuinely devastating.

It was a completely absurd thing to say — and yet somehow, delivered with that face and that voice, Sogeon could feel some treacherous part of himself wanting to just nod along and say oh, is that right.

He caught himself, slid a sideways glance at the king, and replied.

“...You know that’s nonsense, and you’re saying it anyway. Right?”

“Ha — yes, I suppose so.”

His face was considerably warmer than he would have liked, but Sogeon, in his usual soft, slightly hesitant manner, was still managing to say exactly what he thought. Falling in love at first sight — honestly. It wasn’t as though he had a face that could bring kingdoms to their knees, or the figure to go along with it.

“Still. The fact that I’ve fallen for you — that part is true.”

Sogeon glanced over at the king.

Large, warm eyes curved up into a smile, looking back at him.

...It didn’t seem like teasing. Which meant he meant it.

“I know this must all feel very sudden from your perspective. I’m sure it doesn’t quite make sense.”

“...I think that might be something of an understatement.”

“Ha, fair enough. .....Still. The part that I want to keep you close — is true.”

I’ve been watching over you for a long time. Far longer than you might think—

...Another thing that didn’t quite make sense.

As far as Sogeon’s memory went, the Starblessing was the one and only time the two of them had ever met. So when, exactly, had the king been watching him before that?

If he had ever come face to face with someone this devastatingly handsome before, there was simply no way he would have forgotten.

“I don’t know anything about life in a palace. I wouldn’t have the first idea how to be of any use to you — I don’t know anything at all.”

“You don’t need to do anything.”

If there’s something to learn, you can learn it in time. Actually —

You’re fine exactly as you are.

Just stay as you are. That’s enough.

You don’t need to do anything... just stay by my side.

Sogeon said nothing. He simply looked at the king’s face.

Objectively speaking, this was the most absurd proposal he had ever received — and yet somehow, looking at that face, he kept finding that the words just wouldn’t come.

“I’ve had a room prepared for you, to be used until the formal wedding. I had one of the guest suites remodeled. You’ll stay there for now.”

...So there really was no option to refuse. Though — if he were being honest — he didn’t particularly feel like refusing outright, either.

“You must be tired from the journey today, so... go ahead and get settled, get some rest. I’ll have someone come for you when it’s time for dinner.”

“...Yes, Your Majesty.”

At Sogeon’s answer, the king was quiet for a moment, as though turning something over in his mind — and then said something quite remarkably out of place.

“By the way — are you going to keep calling me ‘Your Majesty’?”

“Pardon?”

Sogeon was thrown. Well — what else was he supposed to call the king of an entire nation?

“Honestly, I’ve never been particularly fond of it.”

“...”

“Now that I’ve taken the throne, it’s Your Majesty this, Your Majesty that — I understand they can’t call me anything else, but still. I’d rather not hear it from someone I love.”

Someone I love.

Sogeon lost his words again.

Honestly, what was he supposed to make of this?

This man had run into him by chance at a festival — for reasons entirely beyond Sogeon’s comprehension — and then suddenly proposed, of all things, and brought him all the way here. As far as coherent storytelling went, this was the sort of development that had thrown logic clean out the window—

...So why is he looking at him like that.

Like someone who had loved him for a very long time...

“...What would you like me to call you, then?”

“Yu.”

The young king tilted his head forward until his forehead rested gently against Sogeon’s, and looked at him with a faint smile.

“Yu. My real name. I’d like you to call me by my name.”

“.......”

Was he allowed to do that?

Calling the king by his given name — wasn’t that the sort of thing that could get a person thrown in the dungeons for disrespect?

“Go on. Say it — Yu.”

Just like that? Plain as you please, no title, nothing?!

Sogeon’s lips trembled. When the words finally came out, they sounded rather as though he’d bitten his tongue halfway through.

“.....Y... Yu....Yu-r Majesty......”

At the sound of that hopelessly garbled attempt, Yu burst out laughing. Sogeon, face blazing, buried his head against the king’s shoulder.

Honestly — how could he expect me to just casually rattle off his name like it was nothing in the first place? What on earth was so funny? Seriously — why does this man laugh every single time I try to utter anything?!

“Ha, ha... Well. All things considered, that was a valiant effort.”

“If you keep laughing like that, I’m going back to ‘Your Majesty’...”

“Ha — sorry, sorry. For now, ‘Lord Yu’ is perfectly fine. One day, when you’ve truly opened your heart to me — you can call me by my name then, as comfortably as you like.”

...With all due respect — why would a king, of all people, want to be called so casually? Even between two people who are, fine, yes, getting married — surely in royal families, titles are observed strictly, regardless of how close the individuals are—?

None of it made the slightest bit of sense. And yet — the eyes looking back at him were so warm, so unmistakably genuine —

Sogeon just nodded.

...Well. Even people of the highest standing probably had things in their lives that left them quietly wanting, in their own way.

His Majesty the King — that is, Yu — with what could only be described as a mortifying degree of personal attention, escorted Sogeon himself all the way to the room where he’d be staying.

The room was, he could swear on his life, the most luxurious room he had ever seen.

Is this genuinely a single room. It’s far bigger than the one I shared with my sister growing up — and that bed — you could fit three grown men in that bed comfortably. The blankets must all be silk. Incredibly soft... And the ceiling is so high, the light comes in beautifully. Every piece of furniture, finest quality.

Taking it all in, he was caught, without warning, by a sudden wave of feeling. His family back home came to mind.

Would he be able to write to them. He’d been whisked away to the palace so suddenly — his parents, his sister — they must all be terribly worried.

Yu, who had been watching him quietly, seemed to read the thought entirely. He drew Sogeon gently back against him and pointed to the pen and writing paper laid out on the table.

“If you want to write to your family, use those. There will always be attendants just outside the door — when you’re done, hand it to one of them, and they’ll see it sent to your family home by the fastest messenger.”

“...Yes.”

“Can you write?”

“I used to help my father with the account books, so — more or less.”

At that, Yu smiled — looking oddly as though he were the one with something to be proud of. His arms settled, warm, around Sogeon’s waist. For a brief moment, his fingertips brushed lightly against Sogeon's hip, and Sogeon tensed — but when nothing further followed, he let himself relax.

“Your family will be invited to the wedding.”

“...Yes.”

“Rest for now. I’ll have someone come for you when dinner’s ready.”

Sogeon gave a careful nod — and Yu’s lips curved up into a smile —

“...”

“...Sleep well, then.”

— and pressed, just barely, against Sogeon’s cheek. A breath of warmth. And then, gone.

The moment Yu stepped out and the door closed behind him, Sogeon’s legs gave out. He sank straight down onto the silk carpet.

The heat in his face showed no sign of fading. His hand drifted, without his permission, to the spot on his cheek where those lips had just been — and kept finding its way back.

He knew perfectly well that all of this was absurd. He knew it. And yet — every time that face turned toward him and smiled, something in his chest went warm and fluttery, and he found himself half-wanting to simply... let himself be swept away.

Oh no. I really am a total sucker for a pretty face.

Such a sucker that apparently I don’t even care if it’s a man or woman anymore...

He crawled to the bed and buried his face in the pillow.

He knew he should write to his family — his mind kept telling him so — but all he could see, drifting before him, was Yu’s face.

Even after closing Sogeon’s door and stepping away, Yu stood at the threshold for a long, long moment.

The warmth in his eyes vanished the moment the door closed, leaving them cold and still.

His gaze moved briefly around the corridor. Then, as his eyes returned to Sogeon’s door, something shifted in them — a quiet, aching light.

As though reaching for something across the door, his hand moved slowly across the intricate carvings, fingertips tracing the grooves between them — and then his large frame leaned, gently, against it. His pale forehead came to rest against the door.

“...Finally. You’ve come back.”

Finally... you're here.

Back where you belong.

Mine.

This time, I will never let you go.

Not like that, ever again.

Geonnie.

My Geonnie.

Sogeon wrote a rough letter home telling his family about the bewildering turn his life had taken, handed it off to an attendant for delivery, finished unpacking — and by then, it was time for dinner.

Guided by a servant’s announcement that “His Majesty is waiting in the dining room,” Sogeon followed along — and nearly fainted again the moment he stepped through the door.

What on earth is that man doing.

“Oh — you’re here.”

Yu greeted him with a bright expression — dressed, unmistakably, in the attire of a kitchen cook, full apron included — personally carrying dishes to the table. Nearby, a row of maids and palace cooks stood frozen, pale-faced and completely at a loss— stood frozen, pale-faced, at a complete loss — though Yu paid their expressions not the slightest attention.

“I — um — Lord Yu? What exactly is going on right—”

“It’s our first meal together, so I thought I’d make a proper effort.”

...What an honor. What an absolutely stomach-churning, overwhelming honor. A meal personally prepared by the king of an entire nation. And every single dish on that table looked, without exception, like something out of the finest restaurant in the kingdom — which somehow made it all even more incomprehensible.

The head chef, who had been alternating between staring at Yu and staring at Sogeon, spoke in a voice that was on the verge of breaking:

“Y-Your Majesty — if my cooking has not been to your satisfaction, please, I beg you — punish me rather than—”

“Not at all, Chef. Your skill is exceptional. It’s just that — I wished to prepare my beloved’s first meal here myself.”

...I’d like to cry right alongside him, honestly. A dinner cooked personally by the king. I just hope the sheer pressure of it doesn’t give me indigestion.

“Come and sit down. I’ve nearly finished bringing everything out.”

Whether or not Sogeon’s internal crisis registered, Yu said this with the same cheerful expression as ever — and Sogeon, left with no particular alternative, made his way to the seat beside Yu and sat down.

...Right. It’s not as though I asked him to cook for me. I’m only eating because I was told to. That can’t be held against me.

Despite the rather hectic beginning, the meal itself was, astonishingly, genuinely delicious. What struck Sogeon even more was that every single dish appeared to have been made to his exact preferences — and he found himself quietly startled, mid-bite. Even my mother couldn't have guessed my tastes this accurately.

As the meal was nearing its end, Yu spooned a portion of chicken onto Sogeon’s plate and spoke quietly.

“Take the first three days to rest. After that, a tutor will come to see you.”

“A tutor?”

“Someone to teach you the basic courtly etiquette — and what you’ll need to know as my consort. How the inner palace runs, the terminology used here, that sort of thing.”

Sogeon’s expression shifted slightly mid-chew. Just slightly.

...Right. Life in high places isn’t necessarily easy either — but studying, of all things.

Yu caught the look and laughed, quietly.

“Don’t make that face. I’ve already told your tutor that you have no background in any of this — they’ve been asked to go entirely at your pace. If something’s too difficult, take time to go over it again. If you need a break, take one. There’s no rush.”

“...I was never much of a student, even as a child.”

“Just do your best. When it’s just the two of us, I won’t hold you to any of that formality anyway. And—”

Yu’s hand moved to Sogeon’s cheek and brushed it, gently. The warmth of his fingertips was impossibly soft.

“Honestly — you’re perfect as you are.”

“...Lord Yu...”

“Even if you make mistakes, or feel out of place — if anyone tries to use that against you, I won’t let it stand. Take your time finding your footing. With the palace — and with me.”

The eyes that said it were so completely, utterly sincere —

Sogeon’s face went warm all over again.

.....He couldn’t begin to fathom why this person loved him the way he did. Nor how much.

After dinner, Yu personally walked Sogeon back to his room. Walking beside him — tall, impossibly handsome, in full uniform — Sogeon became suddenly, acutely aware of how plain his own clothes looked in comparison. His expression must have shown it, because Yu seemed to read it instantly and mentioned he’d send for a tailor in the morning. Feeling rather as though his thoughts had been seen straight through, Sogeon could only say “...thank you,” in a voice that had nearly retreated into itself entirely, his face a steady red.

When they finally reached his door and Sogeon moved to open it and step inside — Yu’s arm came around his waist from behind. Sogeon stopped, startled. Then Yu’s voice came from just behind him, low and quiet.

“...If I told you I wanted to spend tonight with you, in your room — what would you do?”

Sogeon’s body went rigid.

Between two ordinary men it might mean nothing. But this was a man who wanted to marry him. Between two people intending to marry, spending the night together meant — that kind of thing —

The red spread all the way to the back of his neck. From somewhere behind him, Yu let out a low, quiet laugh — and then the arm around his waist loosened its grip, and Yu simply drew him into a warm, unhurried embrace.

“Sorry. That’s still too much to ask, isn’t it. For you.”

“...I, well—”

“It’s alright. I’ll wait. I can wait — until you’re ready to let me in.”

His wildly pounding heart settled, just a little, at those words. Something was still fluttering rather intensely somewhere in his chest — but still.

Yu studied his expression for a moment with a faint, soft smile — and then gently turned him to face him.

“Even so — allow me this much, at least.”

And then warm lips pressed, one after another, to his forehead — the bridge of his nose — his cheek — and then he drew back.

“...Good night. Sleep well.”

Yu’s footsteps faded down the corridor. The moment Sogeon turned the lock, he slid straight down the wall and sank to the floor. His face, catching up belatedly, was scarlet.

No, this was real. This was no laughing matter. Just now, I almost —

...I almost kissed him back...

No — don’t call me that, I’ve told you. It feels distant and I hate it. I don’t want to hear it from you, of all people.

Mm, mm — no, not that either! Not ‘Your Highness,’ not Lord ......!

Say it after me. ......! .......

...Yes — like that! And drop the formality, too. I want things between us to always feel easy. Always.

You’re going to marry me. My partner for life —

So stay closer to me than anyone else. BBe the person I can relax with most. The one I can always turn to.

The one beside me — I want that to be you.

...I love you. I really do — so much...

...That was some dream. Wild and absurd.

He rubbed his eyes and pushed himself upright, fighting through the fog. He’d gone to bed half-convinced the unfamiliar room would keep him awake — a needless worry, as it turned out. The silk quilts and obscenely comfortable mattress had done their work efficiently. He’d barely put his head down before he was gone.

While the servants helped him dress, Sogeon turned the lingering traces of the dream over in his mind.

It had been a strange one — nostalgic, somehow, heavy with a feeling he couldn’t quite name. The details had already slipped away, the way dreams do.

The person in it — who were they? He couldn’t make out the name. The face had been blurry, just out of reach. He had a vague impression of a smile — beautiful, he thought — but that was all that remained.

What stayed with him most, though, was a simpler question: when was any of this supposed to have happened.

It had felt like a memory from his childhood — but as far as he could tell, nothing like it ever had. He’d never left his home village before the Starblessing two years ago. There was no one he could have spoken to like that, in a place like that, at that age.

...Maybe the sheer absurdity of everything that had happened yesterday had found its way into my dreamland...

“Master Sogeon, the royal tailor is scheduled to visit after lunch—”

“Oh, yes.”

“Please don’t feel the need to use formal speech with me. In any case — I was asked to inquire about your clothing preferences beforehand, if possible. Is there a particular style or colour you prefer?”

Sogeon thought it over. Styles, he couldn’t say much about — but colour was easy. “I’m not sure about cut or design, but I like blue,” he offered.

The servant’s eyes went wide.

“My... Master Sogeon. Did you perhaps discuss this with His Majesty beforehand?”

“No, I don’t think so...”

“How curious. It’s only that His Majesty contacted the tailor this morning and mentioned — ‘Geon likes blue, so have blue fabrics ready in as many kinds as you can.’”

Sogeon blinked.

...The food preferences were already strange enough. But my favourite colour — he already knows that too?

True, most of the clothes he’d brought leaned toward blue, and he’d been wearing blue at the Starblessing as well — but from only a handful of encounters, it shouldn’t be so easy to pin down someone’s favourite colour outright.

...Did he go through my luggage?

Sogeon tilted his head, puzzling over it. Yu, the strange life he suddenly found himself living, the inexplicable dream he'd had that morning — everything, it seemed, had become another thing to wonder about.

Exactly two days after the royal tailor’s visit, several garments arrived — described as “things to wear in the meantime” — that had apparently been prepared in advance. Ready-made pieces, swiftly altered on the spot to fit his measurements.

By Sogeon’s standards, even these were unreasonably luxurious. He briefly entertained the thought that he had quite enough clothes already — but the tailor and his patron Yu were both immovable on the subject. The king’s fiancé and future consort ought to have at least one full dressing room, they said, and that was that.

I’ll never be able to keep track of what I own, Sogeon thought quietly. But when the person making the clothes and the person paying for them were both decided, there was nothing to do but accept.

The arrival of genuinely fine clothes put the maids in high spirits, and they threw themselves into the business of dressing him up. No proper cosmetics — he was a man, after all — but a light dusting of powder, and his hair carefully seen to. Sogeon wore his hair longer than most men, long enough to braid or pin if someone felt inclined — and the maids, it turned out, felt very much inclined.

When the fussing was finally done and Sogeon looked in the mirror, he wasn’t sure, for a moment, that he was looking at himself.

A noble cut, dyed in a deep and vivid blue richer than anything he’d ever owned — one side of his hair lightly braided back. He felt a little embarrassed admitting it, but — ...he looked quite good.

“Your new clothes arrived, I heard — how do they look?”

Yu arrived just then and stepped into the dressing room —

“.....”

He took in Sogeon — properly dressed and put-together for the first time — and his expression shifted. Something soft and startled flickered in his eyes. His face went red. He looked away, seemed briefly at a loss — and then looked back with a warm, open smile.

“...Beautiful. It suits you perfectly.”

Sogeon, immediately embarrassed, dipped his head and reached up to scratch the back of his neck. Yu smiled and gestured — come stand beside me.

Following Yu’s gesture, Sogeon went and stood at his side. The two of them, reflected together in the mirror, made a far more harmonious pair than he'd ever expected.

Sogeon’s tutor, who arrived that afternoon, was far younger and fresher-faced than he’d expected.

“A pleasure to meet you. I am Yuuhi Komori, sent by His Majesty to serve as your tutor from today onward. I look forward to working with you.”

“Oh... yes, likewise. I’m Sogeon.”

Yuuhi looked even younger than Sogeon, if anything — but as a member of one of the kingdom’s great noble houses, he turned out to know the workings of the royal court in considerable detail. Sogeon had half-expected a nobleman to speak over his head; instead, Yuuhi proved remarkably good at reading the room, pitching every explanation at exactly the right level.

After Sogeon eventually wilted under the weight of lessons on the inner palace’s administration, Yuuhi set aside half an hour for a break. Over milk tea, Sogeon studied Yuuhi’s face for a moment before carefully asking:

“...Master Yuuhi — do you happen to know? Why His Majesty decided he wanted to marry me.”

Yuuhi took a sip of tea and shook his head.

“I don’t know the details myself. What I do know is that His Majesty hasn’t entertained a single marriage proposal since his coronation. He had a habit of saying — almost like a refrain — ‘the person I will marry is already decided.’”

“...Since his coronation?”

“Yes. He said it so openly and so often that, at first, everyone assumed there must be a secret lover somewhere. And then, without a word to anyone, he attended the Starblessing alone — no escort, no guards — and came back saying he wanted to marry someone he’d met there. Everyone was rather shocked when he suddenly sent for you.”

...Strange. Genuinely strange.

The current king had been on the throne for at least five years. In the chaos that followed his coronation, the Starblessing had been suspended — it had only resumed two years ago, when Sogeon first started attending. Before that, he’d been too young, and then a poor harvest had kept the family finances too tight to even think about the trip.

And yet from the day of his coronation — five years ago — Yu had been telling people the person he’d marry was already decided. Before he’d ever met Sogeon at the Starblessing—?

“...Well, he has always been a rather difficult person to read. Personally, I’ve come to think he must have had some kind of divine revelation — in a dream, perhaps.”

The sheer sincerity in Yuuhi's voice drew a quiet laugh from Sogeon. A divine revelation. A god would hardly have chosen someone like him — no background, no standing, nothing to speak of.

Though — wait. What if there had been a woman Yu was originally meant to marry, who’d died suddenly — illness, some accident — and Sogeon, met by chance at the Starblessing, happened to closely resemble her?

...No. That didn’t hold up. Yu knew far too much about his personal tastes for that.

“Whatever the reason, it is His Majesty’s decision. We simply follow it.”

“Still — when word got out that His Majesty intended to marry someone like me... surely not everyone was pleased.”

“A royal marriage stirs controversy regardless of who is chosen. Name a noble house, and every house on poor terms with them objects. Bring in foreign royalty, and opinions divide over what it signals. As for you, Master Sogeon — there is talk, of course. Your common birth. The fact that you’re a man, and unable to produce an heir. People are saying all sorts of things. But no one has been willing to say any of it in front of His Majesty.”

“Why not?”

“He announced that anyone who dared take issue with his consort would find themselves hanging in the capital square.”

Sogeon’s eyes went wide — then the colour drained from his face.

The capital square. That’s where... the gallows are.

If he said he’d ‘hang’ people there, then— ...surely not. Surely Lord Yu wouldn’t actually —...

Yuuhi, who had been watching Sogeon’s expression closely, let the corners of his mouth lift — and stifled a quiet laugh.

“You don’t need to look like that. He says these things, but he is, at heart, a prudent man.”

“I just — Lord Yu — His Majesty — I honestly can’t picture it.”

“He likely doesn’t wish to show that side of himself to his consort. His Majesty is considerably more formidable with his subjects than you might expect. It comes with the position.”

Yuuhi set his teacup down and added, quietly:

“And it speaks to how much he cherishes you, Master Sogeon. In front of you alone, he wants to be seen not as a king — but simply as himself.”

“...I see.”

“Honestly... I’m a little envious.”

Hm?

Sogeon’s eyes went wide — and Yuuhi, as though he hadn't just said anything strange at all, gave the stack of study materials a light tap.

“Alright, that’s quite enough for a chat. Let’s get back to work...”

After the lesson, Yuuhi Komori left Sogeon’s room laden with thick textbooks and stacks of reference materials — heavy enough already, yet somehow he had a notebook propped open on top, scribbling as he walked. Notes on what had been covered, what needed supplementing, what to carry into the next session.

He was still moving his pen, turning the lesson over in his mind, when a voice called out from down the corridor.

“Yuuhi.”

He knew that voice. Yuuhi’s dark eyes went still — then turned toward it.

“...Well, if it isn’t Lord Nishiyama.”

The fresh-faced young man who had called to him gave a faint, faintly wounded smile.

“I told you, just call me Yuuki.”

“...You’re a duke now. I can’t do that.”

“You’re so stiff — anyway. Did you meet them? His Majesty’s fiancé. What are they like?”

“It’s hard to say much, having only met them today — though they seem like a good person.”

“Yuuhi.”

As Yuuhi answered and let his gaze drift away, Yuuki’s hand shot out and caught his arm.

“...My lord.”

“Yuuhi. Look at me.”

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“You haven’t met my eyes once since I got here.”

Yuuhi flinched — and then the hand that had been holding the pen moved carefully to Yuuki’s hand, and lifted it from his arm.

“...Yuuki. Please.”

Yuuhi’s expression twisted with something like sorrow — and then softened, faintly, into the ghost of a smile.

“We can’t do this. You know that.”

“Yuuhi.”

“I’m the Heir to House Komori. Not just Yuuhi.”

Childhood memories belong in childhood.

He swallowed those words and brushed past.

“...Good day, Your Grace. Till we meet again.”

Yuuhi walked on — and Yuuki watched him go. All the way until he’d disappeared from sight. Without looking away once.

A hundred years ago — two ducal heirs who defied doctrine in the name of love, fled together, and ended their lives.

One from House Komori. The other, House Nishiyama.

Both houses lost their heirs at the same time, and both fell simultaneously into succession battles and violent reshufflings of internal power. The sudden scramble for control cost many members of both families their lives; lawsuits and inheritance disputes followed without end.

A house that cannot manage its own affairs cannot hold its ground against those outside.

The chaos set off by two deaths took years to contain, and both houses emerged permanently diminished. House Komori, whose line of succession had been thrown into complete disorder, fared worst — at one point it seemed they might lose the ducal title entirely. Through hard-won reputation and a network of alliances painstakingly built over the years, the house held on, just barely — but the damage was real. Significant losses in wealth, and political concessions that still stung.

Even so — at its heart, all of this had begun with love. Had the story ended in reconciliation, perhaps some good might have come of it. But the bitterness of those left behind moved in an entirely different direction.

If only it hadn’t been Komori — if only it hadn’t been Nishiyama —

The people of both houses began to blame each other, to slander each other, to hold the other responsible for everything they had lost.

Two of the kingdom’s most powerful ducal houses became sworn enemies.

The two young heirs of those houses found each other at the Royal Central Academy — the first of its kind, founded by the previous king.

The academy had been built on the principle that noble and common-born students could receive the same education on equal footing — and its rules held that no student was to disclose their family name. Under that rule, the two met without knowing who the other was, and became inseparable.

After graduation, they believed what they had would last. That belief shattered at a social debut not long after, when they heard each other’s full names announced from across the room for the first time.

Heir to House Komori — Yuuhi Komori.

Heir to House Nishiyama — Yuuki Nishiyama.

They looked at each other and went still. That evening, in a secluded corner of the palace garden, they held each other and wept — for the first and last time. Terrified of being seen — and unable, even so, to let go of one another.

Around the same time Yuuhi was brushing past Yuuki in the corridor, Sogeon — head aching from hours of staring at text — was wandering through a small stretch of woodland within the palace gardens.

“...The palace grounds really are as large as they say. There’s even a proper walking trail in here.”

Today's lesson had mentioned that a hunting tournament was held in this very woodland every spring—

He hadn’t quite been able to picture a garden large enough to release wild game and hold a full-scale hunt inside it — but walking through it now, it seemed entirely plausible.

According to legend, when this palace was built, the royal ancestors designed the woodland into the grounds as a place to enshrine the deity they worshipped. That faith has since declined, and the shrine was demolished long ago, but...

His home village had a similar legend. Among wild animals, those that shone silver were mountain gods — never to be harmed. As recently as his grandfather’s generation, rituals had still been held in their honour. But the kingdom’s church had declared all such beliefs superstition, and by his father’s time, the tradition was gone.

...A shrine within the palace grounds would have been quite substantial. Demolished or not — surely something of it must still remain.

He’d go looking one day, when he had the time — Sogeon was thinking this, about to walk on, when something caught his eye.

“...Oh?”

Beneath a vast oak that looked to be well over a hundred years old — something was gleaming.

Half-convinced it was a ghost, Sogeon tensed and crept closer — but as he drew near, he could make out that the gleaming thing was an animal’s coat. From the build and markings... a stag?

Is there a kind of deer whose coat shines silver like that?

No — it wasn’t the coat that was shining. The stag itself was glowing silver.

Either way, the sight was so beautiful that Sogeon found himself moving toward it without quite deciding to.

Closer still, and the shape was unmistakable. Definitely a stag.

It sat with its eyes closed, as though resting — but as Sogeon drew near, it opened them and watched him with a wary gaze.

“It’s alright. I’m not here to hurt you.”

He smiled at it and looked it over carefully.

Wow... it really is beautiful.

He understood now why the stories said silver animals were mountain gods. To come across something glowing like this in the dark — anyone would believe it was something more than a deer.

Then he noticed something.

Hm?

Blood was seeping through the fur on one of its legs. Sogeon moved carefully toward it; the stag flinched. He spoke softly.

“Hold still. You’ve hurt yourself here.”

He felt around the wound, then reached into his pocket for a clean handkerchief — one the maids had given him with his new clothes, not a cheap thing — but— ...well, there was an injured animal in front of me, he thought, and pressed it firmly against the wound. The bleeding wasn’t serious, and it stopped quickly.

“...Wait here.”

He looked around. There was a small ornamental pond nearby, and along its edges, several plants he knew from home. He crumpled the bloodied handkerchief into his pocket, tore a strip from a clean part of his clothes, soaked it in the pond, and brought it back to clean the dirt from around the wound.

“You have to do this, otherwise it’ll get infected. Back in my village, a lot of people who cut themselves on farming tools and didn’t clean the wound properly ended up getting sick.”

He explained this as though the stag could understand, then plucked a few flowers from the pondside and crushed the petals between his fingers. He tore another strip from his sleeve, soaked it, wrapped the petals inside so only the juice seeped through, and applied it gently around the wound.

“We use this flower at home to keep wounds from getting infected. Normally you’d boil a lot of it down into a proper poultice — but this will have to do for now.”

By the time he was done, the stag had visibly relaxed. Sogeon tore one last strip of cloth, held it against the wound until the bleeding had stopped completely, and sat back with a satisfied look.

“There. Rest up and don’t push yourself — it’ll heal fast.”

He stroked gently around the wound as he said it.

Judging by the shape, it looked like the kind of wound hunters made with firearms. What kind of person would shoot a deer as beautiful as this...

“Looks like there’s a nasty hunter around. Don’t stay out here too long — when you can move, go find your herd and head home. Alright?”

Some time passed. The stag rose to its feet — leg still slightly stiff, but much recovered — and stood watching Sogeon for a long, unblinking moment.

Feeling rather like a specimen under observation, Sogeon found himself staring back —

Lick.

The stag stepped gently forward and gave his hand one slow, deliberate lick — then turned and walked away into the heart of the forest.

Sogeon watched until the last of it was gone, then rose to his feet.

“...Hehe. That felt pretty good.”

A wide, guileless smile spread across his face before he even noticed.

"Your Highness — whatever the purpose, discharging a firearm within the palace grounds without His Majesty's approval—"

"Did I not tell you to be quiet!"

Grand Duke Raimund — elder brother to the king by registered blood, great-uncle by actual birth, and the man who had lost his bid for the throne and been left to swallow the consolation prize of a ducal title — was marching down the palace corridor in a white-hot fury, a firearm swinging insolently from one hand.

His face was dark red. Every time the servant dared use the words Your Highness, Grand Duke, his eyes went wilder — whites flashing, as though they might burst from his skull.

Grand Duke. They call me Grand Duke.

He had been entered into the late king's household registry as a newborn, and had never once doubted that he was the legitimate eldest son. He had spent his childhood bent over books of statecraft, and had spent every year of his youth making himself into the ruler he would one day become.

The truth, delivered to him just before he came of age, was a cold blade.

Not the late king's son. Not even close. An illegitimate child of the king before him — born without standing, without claim, not even entered into the right registry to begin with.

And yet there had been hope, because his younger brother — mercifully — had seemed to want nothing to do with the throne. The boy skipped his statecraft lessons, ran wild, got into trouble at every turn. Where Raimund had spent his whole life cultivating a reputation for dignity and composure, this brother of his stumbled from one embarrassment to the next. Even among the old houses loyal to the crown, people had begun to say it quietly: whatever the rules of succession say, surely the man who has actually prepared himself is the better choice.

Then, not long after the boy's tenth birthday, something changed.

Overnight, it seemed. He picked up his books. He started paying attention. He began angling — openly — toward the throne. And the speed of it was what truly unsettled people, because within a matter of years the whispers had reversed themselves entirely: it was always Prince Yu who had the real ability. He simply wasn't trying.

Raimund — then still the First Prince — panicked. He forced his way into social circles he had never bothered with before, worked the senior ministers, charmed the noble houses one by one, doing everything he could to hold his position. And it all came to nothing the moment Yu stepped into society himself.

'His ability goes without saying — but that face, too. Quite remarkable.'

'A man like that on the throne — the presence alone would be something.'

Yu had always drawn praise for his looks, and he was charming in a way that seemed entirely effortless — the moment he set foot in high society, he became the centre of it. Houses that had been warming to the First Prince began switching sides after a single conversation with Yu, and it happened again, and again, and again.

By his eighteenth birthday, Yu had won over nearly every noble house of consequence. The late king declared him Crown Prince.

Raimund couldn't accept it. He rallied the loyalists he had left and began scheming — looking for any crack in Yu's reputation he could seize upon. His first attempt to regain the initiative was through marriage: one of his allied houses offered their daughter as a candidate for Crown Princess, framed as an olive branch between the two factions.

It should have worked. Political marriages were common enough. But it fell apart almost immediately.

Yu's answer was brief and immovable: 'I appreciate the offer. But I already have someone in mind.'

How the Crown Prince — who had barely left the palace — had managed to meet and fall for someone was a mystery that baffled the First Prince's circle entirely. But regardless, the proposal went nowhere.

What followed was the result of someone trying too hard on his behalf.

One of Raimund's loyal houses, acting well beyond anything he had sanctioned, was caught tracking Yu's movements and attempting to arrange for a woman to be planted in his bedchambers. The house was stripped of every title and honour it possessed. The connection to the First Prince came to light. The entire faction took the blow. Those who had attempted to smuggle in poisons and aphrodisiacs — found to have made direct attempts on the Crown Prince's life — were executed.

The fallout bled well into Yu's reign, becoming the central cause of the political turmoil that defined his first two years on the throne.

During those days, when fear had settled into Raimund's bones, Yu had looked at him with cold, still eyes and spoken.

'Historically, those who lose a succession dispute between brothers don't tend to survive it. But blood ties count for something — and so I'll give you a way out. Accept the title of Grand Duke, manage your lands quietly, cause no trouble — and you keep your life. The honour and comfort that come with being the king's elder brother will be yours. All you have to do is behave.'

Those eyes.

That cool, contemptuous gaze — looking down at him as if he were something to be stepped over.

"....ngh."

He would never accept this. Never.

Why him. Why does it always come back to that man—

"Brother."

The voice came from down the corridor. Grand Duke Raimund flinched and looked up.

Yu was walking toward him with only a handful of attendants in tow, having appeared with characteristic, unhurried calm. His eyes moved over the Grand Duke's ashen face — and he smiled, just barely.

"I understand you were firing in the palace forest again. Without prior approval."

"..."

"You are my elder brother — but this palace has its order to keep. If this continues, there are only so many frightened attendants I can go on reassuring. A little restraint would go a long way."

Perfectly measured. Perfectly polite. However, what truly lies beneath is —

This palace is mine. You are a guest here. Stop embarrassing yourself.

"...I will keep that in mind, Your Majesty."

His voice shook. The moment Yu's back had turned and carried him out of sight, Raimund hurled the hunting gun to the floor and brought his heel down hard on the marble.

Just wait, Yu Tomiyasu.

Someday. Someday, I will —...

"If you're heading to see His Majesty right now, you might want to hold off a bit."

The voice that stopped Sogeon in his tracks was bright and easy — someone he'd never heard before. He turned toward the sound, and found, perched with breathtaking audacity atop a bronze stag statue that was very much a symbol of the royal household, a single man. He was made up and dressed in a style so extravagantly colourful that he could probably have been spotted from the other end of the palace grounds.

Who in this palace would walk around looking like that, Sogeon was thinking — when the man flashed him a grin.

"You're that person, right? His Majesty's fiancé."

The word fiancé brought a slight flush to Sogeon's face, but he nodded slowly all the same. The man rocked back and forth on top of the stag and barked a laugh.

"Ahaha, you're blushing! That's adorable."

"Oh, be quiet — but wait, you're speaking casually to me? Everyone else has been so formal."

"Does it bother you? Want me to switch?"

"No, casual's fine. I'm a commoner, so formal speech actually feels a bit strange — I was just surprised."

"I'm just a jester, at the end of the day. I can speak casually to His Majesty the King himself and no one can say a word against me."

A jester?

Sogeon's eyes went wide. The man slid down from the stag statue with a grin and explained.

"Court jester. I'm there to provide amusement when His Majesty is bored, or when everyone at a banquet is dying of dullness. Entertainment. Laughs. That sort of thing."

"Oh."

A court jester. Come to think of it — Yuuhi had mentioned that someone like that existed. Yuuhi himself had seemed a little ill at ease about it, something like 'personally, I find him rather difficult to deal with' — but.

"So that's your job, court jester — but what's your name?"

At Sogeon's question, the jester made an odd face.

"What? Why do you look like that?"

"You're going to be someone important. Why would you want to know my name?"

Sogeon's expression went equally odd. What did being important have to do with wanting to know someone's name?

"A court jester is allowed a private audience with the king — but at the end of the day, we're performers. In the palace, we're treated as little better than the lowest class. Refined people being the refined people they are, they have no interest in the names of common entertainers. Everyone here just calls me 'hey, clown' or 'oi, jester' — things like that."

"By that logic, my own station isn't exactly lofty either, so."

"..."

It was the jester who burst out laughing at that.

"You're something else. I think I see why His Majesty wants to marry you."

"Don't say weird things — so what's your name?"

"If you know my name, the nobles might start looking at you strangely. Still want to know?"

"Things are strange enough already. What's a little stranger."

After one more peal of laughter, the jester grinned and said:

"Tomoya. My name's Tomoya."

Tomoya. Sogeon turned the name over quietly to himself.

A perfectly normal name, he thought. Why does everyone just call him 'jester'? It would be nice if people used his actual name.

"Anyway, Tomoya — why did you tell me to wait? Was someone in there?"

"Oh — yeah. That person was there. Grand Duke Raimund. His Majesty's brother-and-great-uncle, all rolled into one."

The wording made Sogeon go slightly pale.

Brother-and-great-uncle in the same breath... Anyone else who said that out loud might lose their head on the spot. So that's what it means to be a court jester — you can say anything and walk away clean.

"Both His Majesty and the Grand Duke always come out looking like they've swallowed something foul after they meet. His Majesty can handle himself — but there's nothing good about you crossing paths with the Grand Duke."

"Are they really that bad together?"

"When His Majesty was young it wasn't too terrible, but it's got a lot worse as they've got older. Honestly, His Majesty doesn't even dislike the Grand Duke that much — it's more that the Grand Duke absolutely despises His Majesty."

Then Tomoya leaned in close to Sogeon's ear, as if divulging some top-secret intelligence.

"It's definitely an inferiority complex. Grand Duke Raimund is incredibly ugly compared to His Majesty."

The delivery — dead serious, the content absolutely not — was enough to make Sogeon completely lose it. Tomoya laughed right along with him, and threw in a comment that was forward enough to be mildly mortifying:

"Hey — ain't you got a mighty cute laugh, huh—"

After that burst of laughter, Sogeon headed off to see Yu — and Tomoya slipped away on his own into the garden outside the palace. With the fiancé going to visit His Majesty, there probably wouldn't be any call for a jester for a while. A nap sounded like an excellent use of the time. The life of a court jester meant being knocked about this way and that, but being able to wander wherever he pleased through the palace without anyone stopping him — that, at least, was a genuine perk.

He found a sunny patch, spread his cloak out roughly as a blanket, and settled down to lounge on top of it. Then a shadow fell over him.

"Tomoya."

He looked up at the familiar voice. Haru Inoue, in light training clothes, stood looking down at him with a smile.

"Oh. It's you, Haru."

"What are you doing out here. Taking a nap?"

"What are you doing out here. Can a knight just wander in?"

"I'm palace guard. As long as it's not a restricted area, I can go pretty much wherever I like without anyone stopping me."

Saying this, Haru sat down beside Tomoya with complete naturalness — and wrapped an arm around his waist. Tomoya watched this happen and gave a small, dry smile.

"...What if someone sees."

"Tomoya."

"A proud and honourable knight like yourself, always clinging to the court jester like this — people are going to start talking—"

"Tomoya."

The arm around his waist didn't loosen. If anything, it pulled tighter. Haru drew him in until Tomoya's head rested against his shoulder, and murmured close to his ear.

"You're Tomoya. Just Tomoya."

"..."

"That's never once changed."

Then the hand at his waist shifted — and slipped, without warning, beneath his clothes. Tomoya, who had been quietly blinking up at him, went red in an instant.

"Hey — wait, you can't, not here—"

"Tomoya—"

"W-wait, Haru, Haru—"

Just before a heated breath could slip free, Tomoya managed to stop him — and whispered close to his ear.

"...We have too many watching eyes here."

Haru went still. Then, without a word, he nodded — and gathered Tomoya gently into his arms.

Quick steps wove through the palace garden, darting this way and that, until they found what they were looking for: a gap in a low wall, wrapped on all sides by rose bushes and small trees, well out of sight from any passing eye. They stepped inside.

And from that sheltered corner, little by little, the sound of quickened breaths and feverish voices began to drift out into the afternoon air.

Haru was an adopted son of the Inoue family. Knight families lost their heirs to war and battle often enough that adoption was a relatively common solution — a way to carry the family name forward. The Inoues had taken a liking to Haru out of all the orphanage children: the sturdiest frame, the quickest movements. He was already ten years old, difficult to place at that age, and they had welcomed him as their son without hesitation.

When Haru learned he was going to a knight's household, on the eve of his last night at the orphanage, he knelt before Tomoya on one knee — already playing the knight he hadn't yet become — and made a promise.

'I'll become a knight and protect you. I'll never let anyone push you around again.'

Whether by fate's own design or the workings of something else, Tomoya — who had a gift for song and dance, who loved to laugh more than anyone, quick with a joke and quicker with a grin — found himself, perhaps because of that very nature, selected as the next court jester and summoned to the palace. The position that brought more laughter to more people than any other, while drawing more mockery and scorn down upon its holder than almost any other.

Then came the day they met again, each having stepped into the role their adoptive father had left behind.

Tomoya wept — and tried to push Haru away. Performers like court jesters had been looked down upon at court for generations, and he wanted no part in being the reason a now-honourable knight like Haru found his reputation dragged through the mud.

Haru didn't budge. Instead, he lifted Tomoya into his arms and carried him back to his room at the knights' quarters — empty that day, with all the others out — and loved him. Tomoya cried a great deal. But he couldn't bring himself to push Haru away. Both of them knew, by then, that it was far too late for that. The truth was in every look they exchanged, every breath they drew beside each other — too certain, too undeniable, to be turned away.

"Haru — Haru—"

"Tomoya."

As their quickened breaths slowly settled, the two drew each other close and kissed.

Toward the one person who, no matter how their places in the world had changed, no matter how the years and circumstances had shifted — had not changed even a little.

"How are the studies coming along?"

Sogeon had been happily spooning up chocolate pudding alongside a fragrant cup of coffee — until that question. His face crumpled on the spot.

"...I'm dying."

The sheer sincerity in Sogeon's voice made Yu burst out laughing. Sogeon fixed him with a sulky stare.

"No, really — how is anyone supposed to memorise all of that? Too many rules, too many names, and the honorifics are an absolute nightmare—"

Even calling Yuuhi "Heir to House Komori" still felt deeply unnatural. They were roughly the same age, and Sogeon kept fighting the instinct to just say "Yuuhi" like a normal person — forcing himself to use the formal title every time. And that was the least of it. The sheer number of noble houses, the ones he was expected to know particularly well, and then all the layers of honorifics on top — honestly, it would be so much simpler if everyone just spoke casually and used first names, like Tomoya did.

Still laughing at Sogeon's huffing expression, Yu cut him a slice of the chocolate cake he'd apparently baked himself and slid it over.

"I feel somewhat responsible. I should have issued a royal decree abolishing every last piece of pointless formality before I ever brought you here."

"...That's... really not necessary."

Sogeon's voice softened. Partly because it was hard to say anything sharp when faced with that expression — but also because, knowing Yu, he might actually have done it. Which was a little frightening. Besides, if he was being honest with himself, the problem was less the system and more the fact that he'd started with no knowledge of any of it, and wasn't particularly quick at picking things up. No need to make it into a whole thing. Right. Yes.

The quiz was in three days. He should get some reading done before then. Yuuhi's notes were well-organised for last-minute memorisation, but completely useless for understanding any context. Especially the royal history — there was no making sense of the abbreviated version alone. Books were going to be unavoidable. He'd spent his entire childhood fleeing from books, and here he was at this age, being dragged back to them for this.

"...Actually — where's the library? The palace is so large I'm afraid I'll get lost looking for it."

"The royal library is its own building, to the east of the main palace. Ask one of the attendants and they'll take you. The ground floor — general reading — is open to visitors, so no one should stop you."

"Do you read often, Lord Yu?"

"...Would you like the polished answer, or the honest one?"

"The honest one."

Yu looked mildly sheepish.

"I read quite a bit when I was preparing for the succession — but not so much lately. Reading was never really my thing. I always preferred something physical — riding, swordsmanship, that sort of thing."

Sogeon made a small, delighted sound. There was something unexpectedly comforting about that — a quiet kinship with someone who'd apparently lived by the same creed of keeping books at a distance and exertion close.

"You're surprisingly human, Lord Yu."

"Surprisingly, honestly — more cake?"

In lieu of an answer, Sogeon held out his plate with the full enthusiasm of a very eager puppy. Yu, face faintly flushed, laughed softly and cut him a generous piece.

It used to feel so overwhelming when Yu first started turning up to these tea times with homemade cake — like the pressure alone might make him ill. Somehow, it had started to feel natural.

...It really is incredibly good cake, though. And there's always something with loads of chocolate, every single time. How does he even know I like chocolate—

He was mid-thought, mid-bite, when —

"You've got cream on your cheek."

"Oh, really? Where—"

He reached for his napkin. Yu's arm curved around the back of his neck —

Soft lips. A tongue. One light, unhurried sweep across his cheek.

"There. All done."

"......."

His cheeks — still full of cake — went a deep, burning crimson.

He'd grown used to many things by now. But not this. Not yet, it seemed.