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Chapter Text

It is daybreak when the resonating vibrations of gongs disrupt the calm morning at the Gyeongbok Palace.

There are a few resonances ringing, and in a room full of expensive silk and precious keepsakes, Prince Yoongi scrunches up his nose and groans softly out of protest. He pulls the white linen sheets over his head and shifts onto his side underneath the thin coverings. He stays like this for a while, hoping to get some more shuteye. It didn't work, and he is forced to get up.

Yoongi sits at the edge of the firm mattress, rubbing his eyes. He blinks once; yawns; and blinks again, then scuffles out towards the natural lighting in his sleeping gown. Yoongi stands there, basking in the glorious morn with squinty eyes and bedhead. He takes in the beauty of the rising sun in the east: a palette full of vibrant apricots and golden hues were hidden behind the sunrise's thick, puffy white clouds. He can hear the faintest gust of wind when the birds flap their wings gleefully from treetops, chirping happy tunes and calling mates, and the feeble drips of dew falling from greenery when sunlight peaks behind the cold shadows.

He is watching women and men scatter the cobbled floors from below, squabbling towards their designated post when Yoongi's ears pick up the sudden movement of the wooden door sliding open and the light thuds of socked feet approaching him.

"Good morning, Your Imperial Highness," Yoongi hears two distinct dialects from behind. It was his attendants Jackson Wang and Im Jaebum. They were assigned to him when he was five, and since then, the three of them are inseparable.

"Good morning," Yoongi answers. He sounds rugged and irritable. Jackson and Jaebum don't seem to mind. He doesn't turn around.

"Morning tea, Yoongi-ssi?" Jackson asks.

Yoongi nods his head. "Table." Jaebum stared at him, and Yoongi realized that he had not properly answered Jackson in the way they had taught him. "Please," he adds.

Yoongi hears the wooden tray being set on the floor table, the fine chinaware bouncing against each other. He hears liquid being poured out and his nostrils instantly pick up the sweet infused scent of chamomile tea. He turns around and walks to the floor table and sits down on the plump silk pillow. There were feet shuffling, and Yoongi feels Jackson is standing behind him. Yoongi observes Jaebum as he set the cup down in front of him.

"Your tea," Jaebum speaks.

"Thank you," Yoongi says, and he could see Jaebum grinning at him. Jaebum goes and stands next to Jackson. Yoongi gingerly takes the china cup, blows the steam, and then he sips the warm liquid. "You can go as you please," Yoongi continues. He sets the teacup down and reaches for his government book. "I'll ring whenever I need you two."

Jackson and Jaebum smiles but they stay rooted in their spots. They know. After all, this is their master-their childhood friend Yoongi. They enjoy the quietness together: Yoongi reading one of his books in silence as Jackson and Jaebum talk about what has been going on in the servant's quarters. It was about thirty minutes into his reading when the thin paper doors to his room slide open. Yoongi looks up from his book with the teacup in his hand, a lecture about manners ready at the tip of his tongue, but he lets it slip when he sees who it is.

It was Jung Hoseok, his blood-related brother from another mother.

Yoongi raises his brows.

"Come in."

Hoseok grins and passes the threshold. The crinkles of the cotton fabric scratching against the wooden floor stop once Hoseok is across from him. Yoongi sets the half-empty cup down on the floor table and put the book aside.

"What brings you to my quarters, dearest brother?"

Hoseok flashes him a bright grin. Yoongi feels a sharp twitch in his right eye. He would never understand how Hoseok can smile so easily and not have a migraine at the ungodly hour at five in the morning.

"Can I not?"

"You can," Yoongi stands up, sauntering towards the middle of the room with Jackson and Jaebum behind him. "I'm just curious as of to why you're here when you could be Namjoon."

Hoseok doesn't say anything. He picks up the china kettle and pours the chamomile tea into his own cup. Yoongi gives Hoseok a last look from the side and clicks his tongue. Hoseok simply smiles.

They remain in silence, the sweet floral scent wafting throughout the room.

"Are you going to attend Mother's birthday party?"

Yoongi looks at Hoseok sharply, dodging the bobbing of Jackson's and Jaebum's heads as they draped fabrics over him. He sees Hoseok rolls his eyes, crumpling his vibrant purple and yellow colored hanbok before propping a leg up.

"I'm asking you a question."

"One that I don't appreciate you are asking, Hoseok," Yoongi's voice says. There was a pause before Yoongi speaks again. "Get out."

There is a flash of hurt in Hoseok's eyes, but he quickly hides it. "You know fairly well how Mother is going to react when the eldest son isn't present the ceremony," Hoseok says rather aggressively, "and I rather not have Namjoon coming after you for making her upset."

Yoongi stares at Hosoek. Of course, the Empress would be disappointed in him; he hadn't gone to any of the family gatherings ever since he turned fifteen. As the first-born, Yoongi has the responsibility of being at almost to every important meeting that involves the future of the nation—something he has been neglecting ever since Namjoon was declared as the Crown Prince.

"You know how much I hate those family reunions, Hoseok," Yoongi says, putting emphasis on the word 'hate'. "Just because I'm dressed up for Mother doesn't mean I'm going."

"Hyung," Hoseok's voice went up a pitch, a move that only happens when Yoongi is becoming too stubborn. "Please, hyung. Think about all the times she has been there for us—for you."

Yoongi opens his mouth to say something but decides against it. He closes his eyes and sighs deeply. He feels another wave of aching pain shooting at his head. Right. Namjoon. Their youngest brother. The only son of Empress Kim. The Crown Prince.

It is complicated. Yoongi is known to be the only prince that brutally voices his honest opinions concerning the imperial family's parties and group gatherings. It seems stupid to Yoongi. He didn't like the concept of eating like picky palm nut vultures, conversing about diplomacies and marriage, and acting as perfect and mannered as possible. But Empress Kim, bless her heart, is a kind and beautiful women—inside and out. She is well-respected in the community, and everyone loves her for her selfless nature. She had taken Yoongi and Hoseok in when their birth mother passed way in childbirth and treated them as if they were her own sons. Everyone had thought that Yoongi, the first-born, would be crowned. Then, the Empress conceived, and Namjoon was born nine months later.

Yoongi had been five; Hoseok was three.

But being a five year old didn't mean Yoongi was stupid. He knew what was going on. He didn't miss the mean looks on the council members faces or the pitiful stares made by the maids and servants. He knew the deep frown on his father's face, and constant sighing is caused by the pressure of announcing Namjoon has the rightful heir to the throne. But he also knew that it was still too early to declare one. Yoongi wanted Namjoon to have a lively childhood, one filled with lots of love and freedom, not stuck with a teacher who could care less about you and more about his position as the imperial teacher. He wanted Namjoon to live his childhood for him. So he told their father. And the Emperor consents. They come to an agreement where the moment Yoongi turns fifteen; he would tell their father an intelligent answer. The title will be finalized then.

Of course, the court didn't like the idea one bit. They didn't understand why the Emperor named Yoongi the next-in-line. No matter how many praises and love he had been showered with, it is evident in his blood that he isn't a Kim. He is part concubine and royal which makes him and Hoseok a lower status of Namjoon.

Yet, Yoongi doesn't care. To him, it is his responsibility as the oldest brother that he protect his younger brothers who know nothing but sweet lullaby and nap time. At a young age, Yoongi knew that many people were against him being the succession of the Emperor. There were many attempted assassination—many left Yoongi traumatized—but Yoongi is glad he had gone through that instead of his younger brothers. When Yoongi had turned fifteen, he sat little nine years old Namjoon down and talked. They talked about his birthright, what beautiful experiences come with it, and what pressure and consequences should he choose to own the title. And with Namjoon's determination and consent, Yoongi returns what belongs to Namjoon on his tenth birthday.

Yoongi doesn't regret it when he handed the title down to Namjoon. He had no desire for the throne and had already seen the skills Namjoon had possessed by the age of eight. He has a sharp mind, solving almost the impossible arithmetic questions, and is philosophic, expanding his vocabulary far more than Yoongi did when he was Namjoon's age. There was no doubt with a few more years and training, Namjoon would be the best fit for Emperor. The court is overjoyed. The Empress, however, wasn't too ecstatic. She firmly believes that it was he, Yoongi, the Emperor's first son, should be Crown Prince because "he worked hard for it" and the two of them had quarreled the day after. Since then, Yoongi had wholly avoided family gatherings.

Hoseok's voice brought Yoongi back to reality.

"Please, hyung. Just for Mother?"

Yoongi stares at Hoseok and exhales a heavy sigh. He knows. Not because it was his obligation as the eldest prince but because despite his backlash, Empress Kim had supported his decisions no matter what. There is another sigh that escapes his lips.

After all, she is the woman who raised him to the person he is today.

"I'll think about it."

Maybe it is an excellent choice to say that because Hoseok beams. His face lit up, a broad smile etched on his face, and it made Yoongi feels less guilty for telling his baby brother to get out earlier. Hoseok stands up and brushes off the dust off of his vibrant hanbok before taking small strides towards the door. The door opens, and before he exits, Hoseok quickly turns around to look at Yoongi.

"Mother will be happy, you know?"

Yoongi hums in reply, Jackson and Jaebum putting on the finishing touches—draping and tieing him. He smells the disappointment, and he didn't need to look behind to know that Hoseok's smiles falter at the lack of response. He hears a feeble "see you soon" before the sliding doors closed with a click.

Then, it was silence.

"Are you okay, Yoongi-ssi?" Jaebum asks. Yoongi hears a noise form Jackson behind as he finishes deliberately wrapping a piece of embroidered black silk around the layer of dark red and lilac fabric.

Red. The color of a concubine's son.

"Yes," Yoongi responds flatly. "Thank you for asking." He is not okay. Things are becoming to sudden for him: the heavy silk embroidered clothes, the talk with Hoseok, the peer pressure. He takes a good look in the mirror from the corner, running his fingers along the silky fabric. He needed to look good. He had forgotten how it feels to wear layers upon layers of exquisite silk and being suddenly pushed into the spotlight is daunting.

He turns around. "So, how do I look?" he asks. Yoongi watches his attendants slowly turn to face him, their eyes wide and lips parted, and clasps their hands in awe.

"Very handsome, Yoongi-ssi," Jackson gushes, swooning over the prince as he fixes the black hat on Yoongi's head.

Yoongi lifts up an eyebrow. "You think so?"

"We know so," Jaebum answers before helping Yoongi with his shoes. "Are we going to Her Imperial Majesty's birthday party?"

It is a rhetorical question because they know that Yoongi knows. And Yoongi knows that they know. He chuckles, not answering, and turns around to exit his room, the burgundy red showing its vivid colors underneath the bright sunlight, and Jackson and Jaebum merely trail along, grinning and following their master a step behind in their green attire out to the main palace.

'Father has outdone himself again,' Yoongi thinks, a smile edging to appear on his lips as passes the servants and into the main quarters.

He had never seen the Gyeongbok Palace overly decorated, decked with pearlescent gold and flash emerald green streamers and ribbons from top to bottom. He thinks that his father must have really loved Empress Kim in order to surprise her with grand surprises like this every other twenty-five years. 'How cute.'

Yoongi turns the corner to the bridge that connected the princes' quarters to the main building and spots his father and Empress Kim sitting on a platform near the bottom of the stairs that lead up to the throne room. Then his gaze settles on the simple, plain clothes of the local vendors and the civilians as they bring small trinkets to Empress Kim with the purest smiles on their faces.

"Hyung!" Yoongi blinks. He whirls around to see who is calling him and his eyes soften at the sight of Hoseok. Hoseok is also dressed in the same layers of burgundy red and his attendant Yugyeom in the same green uniform as Jackson and Jaebum. "You made it!"

He senses the Emperor and the Empress's eyes settling on him, but he shrugs it off and focuses on his little brother in front of him.

"I guess I did," Yoongi says, his eyes wandering to take in as many shapes, colors, size, and faces as possible before looking at Hoseok again. "Has the celebration started?"

Hoseok shakes his head. "It's only the prelude. The guests are still arriving."

"I see," Yoongi says. He looks around again, a frown settling on his brows. "Where is Namjoon?"

Hoseok points behind him and Yoongi tilt his head to the side to see Namjoon, who is standing all tall and intimidating, talking to General Ravi in the corner near one of the many columns. Namjoon, who had been so small—smaller than Yoongi—has grown into a fine young man who is nearly a head taller than Yoongi now. He is wearing a gonryongpo—the blue colored robe with large, round embroidered emblems of a four-toed dragon sewn on it suits Namjoon well with the height and frame—and the ikseonggwan is worn proudly on his head.

Yoongi sees Namjoon stopping the conversation to look in their direction and waves enthusiastically—a little too enthusiastically for a member of the imperial family—but Yoongi lets it pass and nods back, his lips dipping upward, a smile threatening to appear on his lips. Namjoon returns his eyes on Ravi, says something, and Ravi bows with a strained smile and leaves.

"Hyung!" Namjoon calls out, nearly tripping on his robe as he runs towards Yoongi and Hoseok. "Is that you?"

Yoongi chuckles. "The one and only," he turns to look at Jaebum, Jackson, and Yugyeom with a faint smile. "Go and have fun with your friends. If anyone says anything, tell them you have my permission to do so."

Yugyeom looks over at Hoseok with wide eyes, who beams and waves him off, and Jaebum simply flashes a grin, bows in respect along with Jackson and Yugyeom before linking arms with them and running off with childish waves of laughter. Yoongi can feel Namjoon's gaze lingering on him, and he turns to face his brothers.

"Is something wrong?"

"No," Namjoon says quickly. "It just, well, I haven't seen you so relaxed, hyung."

"I agree with Namjoon," Hoseok adds. "You were always stressed out with God knows what, and Yugyeom has been telling me that you live up to this scary, cold-hearted prince image ever since Father assigned you the peace treaty with Changdeok." They both smile. "We're just glad you're back, hyung."

"Thanks," Yoongi says dryly. He turns to see their father staring at them with curious eyes. "How is Mother?"

"She's doing fine," Namjoon replies with soft eyes. "A little older and wiser than usual but she's doing great for a fifty-year-old woman."

Hoseok snickers. "Just wait until she hears that from you—her own son."

Namjoon rolls his eyes before looking at Yoongi. "Are you coming to Mother's birthday party?"

Yoongi stares at them as if they had grown three heads and replies with "Do I have a choice?" all while looking at Hoseok. Hoseok merely grins, eyes shape of a crescent, showing off his pearly white teeth and Namjoon simply laughs at his older brother's antics.

"Hwangtaeja!"

The three princes turn around to see Namjoon's attendants, Jinyoung and Mark, running towards them, their panic-to-relief faces and slightly wrinkle uniform says everything.

Namjoon lets out a sigh. "Well, I better get going," he turns to Yoongi. "I'll see you soon?"

And before Yoongi could answer, Namjoon left. It was a few moments later that Hoseok turns to look at him with concern.

"You okay?"

Yoongi doesn't say anything. He feels Empress Kim's eyes on the back of his head, one full of many questions, disappointment, satisfaction, and welcomeness all in one. It could have been worse—Namjoon upset at him, his father disappointed, and Empress Kim feeling miserable—but luckily, it wasn't so Yoongi thinks positive. He thinks of the happy smiles on his Hoseok and Namjoon's face, the approving nod and looks from his father, and how overjoyed and thrilled Empress Kim would be.

It sounds good.

"I guess," and Hoseok nods with a brighter smile.

Chapter Text

Jimin is nervous.

From what? He doesn't know. He can feel a headache making its way up to his brain; his body is stiff and rigid. Maybe it is because he had been hand-selected by the Emperor to dance at the Empress' birthday party or maybe it is the fact that he didn't get a good enough sleep last night. Whatever is it is, he is just grateful that Seokjin, Taehyung, and Jungkook—his three closest friends—will be with him.

He looks over his shoulder and gnaws on his bottom lip, a habit he develops over the years whenever he is extremely anxious.

'Where is he?' Jimin thinks, clasping his trembling hands in a hopeful manner. It may seem childish, but God, he doesn't want to dress alone because he is afraid he would mess up the expensive silk. He wants Luhan, his mentor, to help him—to make him look pretty in front of the millions of people and especially the imperial family.

It doesn't help that Jimin is extremely exposed right now. The fact that he is sitting in just the underskirt layer with his long hair barely enough to cover his back that is facing the thin paper sliding doors was too scandalous as a court entertainer because he could be taken advantage of hungry men if they so happen to enter the room.

But Jimin could careless right now; his nerves were getting to him.

"I'm doing good," Jimin hears a faint feminine giggle from behind the screen. "Thank for the concern, General Park."

"My pleasure, Baekhyun." There is a pause. "Are Seokjin, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook in there? Can I see them?"

"Jiminnie is the only one in there, and I'm afraid you can't enter, Chanyeol-ssi," Baekhyun says, his shadow looms over the thin panels, blocking the handles to Jimin's room. "Luhan hyung has yet to arrive."

"Ah," Chanyeol says, disappointment hinted in his voice, and Jimin smiles slightly. He is glad that his roommates, senior court members Taemin and Baekhyun, are on the lookout for him. They were usually the ones that doted on him when he was younger and had grown protective of him, along with Luhan. 

Then, he hears feet scuffling and bodies moving. There is a moment of silence before Jimin perks up at the sound of Luhan's voice, all gentle and kind, from behind the door.

"Jimin-ah, are you in there?"

"In here!"

The thin paper doors crinkle open, and Jimin clutches onto his white underskirt as he whirls around in his seat. 

Luhan is smiling brightly in his Chinese garments. He was one of the few that was given special permission by the Emperor and Empress themselves to be able to wear their ethnic clothing. It is a colorful hanfu designed for the court performers, layers of fine silk ranging from mint green to bright orange to royal blue to pastel yellow and pink, and it makes Luhan beautifully stands out among the hundreds of hanboks Jimin seen on a daily day-to-day bases.

"Sorry I'm late," Luhan says, his voice calm like the streaming water as he walks over and picks up a wide tooth comb from the small prepped vanity table. He runs the comb through Jimin's long chestnut hair, gently untangling the small kinks with a tender smile. "Did you wait long?"

Jimin shakes his head and quirks up a small smile. "No," and the two of them fall into a comfortable silence. Luhan hums to an old folk song as he carefully separates Jimin's hair into three even sections. He begins braiding, weaving the three stands back and forth until the end. Then he folds and twist the braid in half into a saeng-meori and knots it with golden embroidered daenggi.

"Turn around," and Jimin spins around in his seat to face Luhan. "Up."

Luhan wraps the pretty gold-embellished yellow chima around Jimin's body and ties it in a neat knot. Then, he holds up a sheer white jeogori with thread white daisies and gold lace details and motions Jimin to put his hands through the sleeves.

"I'm nervous, hyung," he says softly as he slips his hand through the hole.

"Don't be," Luhan says, a small smile on his lips as he works around to dress Jimin up. "His Imperial Majesty is a kind man."

"I know that," Jimin replies, his voice faltering bit by bit. "But I can't help it. What if I mess up?"

"You won't," Luhan says as he fixes the jeogori in the proper alignment. "I know you won't. In fact, by the end of today, you will be having young and old men lining up at your door asking for your hand in marriage." Luhan smiles and fixes a tinkling ornament onto Jimin's braided hair. "And who knows, maybe one of the princes will take you in as his consort."

Jimin froze, his cheeks burning red. He lets out an embarrassed "Hyung!" and Luhan crackles at his friend's horrified expression.

"I'm just saying, Jiminnie," he says, his rosy lips smiling to himself as he ties the white otkorum. "Just like how Chanyeol-ssi and Jongin-ssi are courting Baekhyun and Kyungsoo from the vocal department."

Jimin knows what his senior is talking about. Luhan and four other senior performers—Baekhyun, Kyungsoo, Junmyeon, and Tao—had been rescued out of a prostitution ring in China under the order of the Emperor years ago. One of the generals, Oh Sehun, adores Luhan, and although Luhan had refused to marry him because of their age differences, Sehun is persistent. Even up until this day, Sehun had been trying to woo Luhan, courting him with lavish gifts and affections.

"Besides," Luhan continues. "You never know if one of the princes would want someone as beautiful and graceful like you."

Luhan has seen it all first-handed. He has seen how gorgeous and young Jimin is, how delicate and gentle the boy can be. Luhan knew that Jimin is a pure, indescribable soul the moment the young boy stepped through the wooden threshold to the entertainment quarters and Luhan had begged the Emperor to have Jimin placed under his care because he couldn't trust any of the females who harbored envy.

"Well, I guess," Jimin finally says with concerned eyes. "But what prince would possibly want to take someone who is considered as a prostitute?"

Luhan furrows his brows. He didn't like when Jimin talked bad about his career. They are respected musicians, performers, entertainers. Their job is to uplift the mood, not sleep around. Luhan makes a mental note to have the troublesome girls who he had overheard talk about Seokjin, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook being some harlot the other day apologize for being disrespectful.

"Don't say that about yourself."

Luhan finalizes the finishing touches, a few sweeps and dabs of kohl and crushed dyes. He takes a step back to admire his completed masterpiece, and the results do not disappoint.

Jimin doesn't realize it, but he is indeed the epitome of beauty. He has a straight nose and soft doe eyes that practically sparkles, thick pink lips, and a sculpted jaw that contradicts with his high round cheeks; his skin is the definition of perfection and has a subtle Busan accent laced with his raspy, angelic voice.

Luhan pulls Jimin up, gently pushing him towards the door. He kneels down to fit on the white shoes. Then, he dusts off his hands and pushes the paper doors open. Jimin feels self-conscious of his appearance, he wasn't given a chance to look at himself and is afraid that even with Luhan's impressive skills he still look ugly and horrendous. But the thought fades away when he hears Taemin and Baekhyun squealing and showering him in compliments.

"What do you guys think?" Luhan pips, his body language is oozing confidence.

"You look perfect," Baekhyun says, a boxy grin plastered on his face. "I didn't think you could be any prettier than you already were!"

Jimin's cheeks flush red and fidgets under their eyes. "You guys are too kind..."

Taemin places his hands on Jimin's shoulders with a kind smile. "We're stating the fact, Jimin." He takes out a small clip, covered in precious gemstones, and clips it to Jimin's braids. "You look stunning."

"Thank you," Jimin says softly. He then looks around the small courtyard with a small pout forming on his lips. "Where are the others?"

"Seokjinnie is helping Taehyung and Jungkook," Taemin answers. "He said they'd be out shortly."

It wasn't even a few seconds later that Seokjin came out in the matching uniform as Jimin. Jungkook and Taehyung came out a few moments later. They were in the same dress, breathtaking in the matching white detailed jeogori and respected colored chima—Jin in a vibrant salmon; Jungkook in pastel blue; Taehyung in a lavender purple.

"You guys look beautiful," Luhan says, his lips turning up in a proud smile.

"Thank you," Seokjin says. He turns to Jimin with a bright smile. "Jimin will surely be the talk around the villages."

"I think Seokjinnie hyung will also be the talk about town, too," Jungkook pipes in, the ornaments bouncing with one another as Jungkook moves his head. "Don't you agree, Taehyungie?"

"Jin hyung plays the gayageum good," Taehyung adds. Seokjin laughs, smoothing out his salmon skirt.

"Please," he says, eyes twinkling in humor as he comes up to the younger boys. "I have been playing since I entered the palace."

Jimin giggles, fingers flying up to cover his smile. "Pretty, too."

Luhan, Taemin, and Baekhyun watch the four boys interact with one another with a fond smile. They do not know it, but the four boys are indeed the embodiment of Aphrodite. They have unknowingly surpassed everyone in the region with their unique talents, undefined looks, and humble personality, living up to their unannounced title: the Four Beauties of Gyeongbok.

They excelled in gugak in all categories—dancing, instruments, singing, storytelling. And many women and men from all over the empire had come to Luhan or Taemin or Baekhyun and voiced out their envy specifically for the four boys.

Everyone knew—everyone but them.

Seokjin is the oldest out of the four and has been in the palace longer than any of the peers in their generation. He was brought here as a baby and was raised up around Luhan and the older court ladies who dotted and taught him wonderous skills in singing and playing musical instruments especially the gayageum—his specialty. Jeon Jungkook and Kim Taehyung were a package deal. They were both sold into the palace together a few years earlier than Jimin, and they were raised under Baekhyun and Taemin's care. They are well-known among the entertainment quarters for their excellent, strong and unique gugak voices that were often used for minyo, and were more than often booked together for private parties. And Jimin, sweet little Jimin had proven himself worthy at his palace auditions.

It was nostalgia. They grew up so much, and Luhan, Taemin, and Baekhyun can't help but smile with pride, a warm feeling settling into their bones as they watch the boys laugh and smile so carefreely.

"Oh goodness! His Imperial Highness is here?!"

"Prince Yoongi is here?!"

"Where?"

"Your Imperial Highness!"

Yoongi's lips are pressed down in a thin line. He didn't like the attention he is getting. God, he hates it. He would much rather be in the comfort of his pavilion than be somewhere boisterous with people.

"You okay, Yoongi-ssi?" Jackson and Jaebum say softly from behind.

Yoongi gives a strained nod. "I'm doing fine."

Yoongi feels his feet getting heavier and heavier with every step up yet his pace getting faster and faster. He wants to get out of the public eye. He can feel the burning of hundreds of curious eyes staring at the back of his head; the old men and women from all rank looking, pointing and murmuring among themselves, curious as to why their Prince Yoongi is at a party. Who wouldn't? It wasn't every day they see him, the infamous Prince Yoongi that is known to never attend family gatherings, at a family gathering.

"This is a bad idea," Yoongi mutters under his breath as they climb up the stairs.

Hoseok, who is a step in front, stops and looks at Yoongi over his shoulders with furrowed brows. Their attendants halted at the same time with their head down.

"What do you mean?" Hoseok asks.

"You know exactly what I mean, Hoseok."

Hoseok huffs and turns around sharply. He continues to climb up the staircase; Yoongi and their attendants following in pursuit.

"I don't see what is so bad about family gatherings, hyung," he says, his arms crossed and his voice lacing with stubbornness. "You get to see your family."

"Which is why this—" Yoongi gestures to the courtyard doors a few long steps in front of them. "—is a bad idea. Do you have any idea how much Father and Mother's guests loathe me?"

Hoseok sighs.

"Relax, hyung," he says. "I'll be there with you every step of the way."

"Easy for you to say," Yoongi retorts back. "The whole palace loves—"

He didn't get to finish his sentence because there is a middle-aged man decked out in a navy blue dopo with matching light blue jeonbok. Yoongi's right eye twitched. It is one of their father's old and close friends, Count Kang Hodong.

"Goodness gracious," Hodong exclaims as he bounces to them. "Is that His Imperial Highnesses Prince Hoseok and Prince Yoongi?"

Hoseok beams. Yoongi faked a smile. They both give a nod.

"It's a pleasure to meet you again, Count Kang," Hoseok says, displaying his white teeth. Yoongi stretches his lips further and clamps his teeth.

"Likewise," Yoongi says, his voice thick and tight. "How is your family, Count Kang?"

"My wife and son are doing very well," Hodong replies with a bright smile. "Thank you for asking, Prince Yoongi."

Yoongi can see the approving smile on Hoseok's lips from the side and Yoongi is about to make a remark when he is interrupted by the buzzing vibrations of gongs ringing. Hoseok grins wider.

Then, Hodong steps aside and ushers the boys in. "The ceremony is about to start," he says. "Better get inside, Your Imperial Highnesses."

"Thank you," Hoseok says, his voice soft. "We'll see you around, Count Kang."

"Likewise."

And they parted ways.

They walked, Jaebum, Jackson, and Yugyeom trailing behind their respected prince, until they reached a set of massive double red metal doors. Yoongi isn't surprised when he hears the lack of manners from commoners chattering from over the bricked walls; the working class was allowed inside the imperial courtyard for special occasions like Empress Kim's birthday. They stopped at just the threshold. Hoseok turns around.

"Are you ready?"

Yoongi remains quiet; his chin held high. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath in, then out. Then he nods his head. Hoseok gives an encouraging smile before returning to the guards and giving them the signal. And the doors swung open with announcer announcing their presence.

"His Imperial Highnesses Prince Jung Hoseok and Prince Min Yoongi have arrived!"