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“You should keep your mongrel on a tighter leash, son.”
The slap rings out in the large bedroom like the crack of a whip. Changbin’s head flies to the side, a red mark stark against his cheek. He remains still and silent, kneeling before the grand bed at the center of the room. His eyes are on the royal purple satin sheets as he listens to the eerily steady breathing of the person seated on them.
“You spoke against me at the council meeting,” a cool voice calmly states.
Changbin says nothing.
“Defend your insolence.”
Changbin immediately dips his head down, nearly kissing the warm feet that rest on the cool marble floor. But he knows he isn’t worthy to taint them with his traitorous lips.
“I’m sorry, my Princess,” he apologizes sincerely, “I regret embarrassing you at the council meeting.”
There is a satisfied hum, but Changbin remains prostrate for the rest of his proclamation.
“But I don’t regret speaking against your father’s plan.”
“Oh?” The tone is kept light and curious, but it belies an indignant fury that Changbin can feel radiating off the other in waves. It threatens to choke him, but he is resolute in his decision.
“I am faithful to you, always, but more important to me than your honor is your safety. Using you as bait is an unacceptable risk.”
There is silence for a long moment. Changbin can feel a bead of sweat trailing down his temple, but he dares not move an inch. His eyes remain glued to the floor, so he catches the movement as a soft foot reaches for him and tilts his chin up by the toes. His gaze is gradually dragged up long, lithe legs and across flowing, white silk until he’s meeting Hyunjin’s steely eyes. His hair is down, the kohl around his eyes has been wiped away, and all of his uniform that declares him one of the military’s greatest generals has been cast aside save for a white button up. Even though he has been stripped of all his armor, he is not any less threatening. The vulnerability Changbin is usually privileged to see has been withheld from him in this moment. His Princess cannot show weakness even in his own room before his most devout follower. That realization is more painful than the slice of any sword.
“You doubt your ability to protect me?” Hyunjin asks, tilting his head in question. The motion causes his long hair to just barely kiss his shoulder.
“I would lay my life down for you,” Changbin says seriously. Hyunjin nods in acknowledgment, as Changbin has never given him a reason to doubt that. “But my life is not nearly a great enough cost to equal yours. I would sacrifice the entire kingdom for you, but even that would not compare to what your safety means to me.”
Hyunjin’s stare pierces his soul, as if picking him apart and remaking him better, stronger, into the perfect image. It leaves Changbin feeling hot, scorched by his own devotion and his Princess’s expectations. When Hyunjin sighs and softens his expression it is like Changbin has been doused in cool water. He can breathe again and the burn in his chest arrests itself to a simmer.
“Foolish,” Hyunjin scoffs, dropping his foot. Changbin catches it before it can return to the cool tile and lays a delicate, reverent kiss upon the top of his arch. Now that he has been forgiven for his sin he wants nothing more than to worship the skin presented to him.
Hyunjin ignores the gesture, but does not move his leg. “Come now. It is evening and I am still not dressed for bed. You aren’t done serving me yet.” He gestures to his shirt, the only remaining article of clothing on him.
Changbin obliges, rising on his knees until his torso is nearly resting on the edge of the mattress between Hyunjin’s legs. He reaches up and starts to undo each button slowly, as if he is opening a carefully packaged present. The sight being revealed to him is certainly a gift. After every restraint has been unclasped, he gently slides the fabric down the other’s shoulders and arms until it slides off of elegant hands, fingertips curling just slightly to catch the edge.
After the shirt is removed and his Princess is bare before him he has to take a moment to reign in his senses. Every part of him yearns to feel him, smell him, taste him. His reverence does not change his desires, but he withholds them always, treating his Princess with the utmost respect. Instead of trailing his fingers across soft, tan skin he takes the silken shirt and folds it into a neat square. He doesn't lift the fabric to his nose, but even so he catches Hyunjin's scent as he walks to the wardrobe, musky and familiar.
Once his day clothes are put away, he opens the door that houses Hyunjin's nightwear. One benefit of serving his Princess into the night is choosing his attire for the bed. It is within Changbin's hands to decide the garment that has the fortune of accompanying Hyunjin to his dreams. This evening he finds his hands reaching for the red gown that falls just below Hyunjin's toned thighs. The color matches his Princess's ire, his feelings of betrayal and indignation.
When he returns to the bedside, Hyunjin has his legs crossed and his hands propping him up from behind. His back is casually arched, full figure on display without a care for modesty or shame. They both know Changbin won’t touch him unless asked. Hyunjin seems relaxed now, but the lines of tension across his neck and shoulders betray him. He still feels hurt and betrayed, and Changbin is hurting in turn. There’s little he can do now, as his stance won’t be changing. Soon Hyunjin will understand his intentions. Until then he will be unwavering in his devotion and care.
The red fabric spills over Hyunjin’s head and paints his body in a bloody canvas. It runs over his thighs to the dark sheets below, creating a pool around him. Hyunjin is beautiful. It is an inescapable fact. The sun rises every morning, grass is green, and Hyunjin’s beauty surpasses that of every star in the sky. Still, the sight of him donning clothing Changbin had picked out leaves him breathless every time.
Hyunjin stretches out on his back, beginning to pull the satin comforter around his bare legs. Changbin knows his work here is done. He has completed his duties for the night, and now he must rest in the neighboring chambers, ready to return at the smallest sign of distress.
“Sleep well, my lovely Princess,” Changbin whispers lowly, so that he won’t break the spell that falls over them the moments before he departs. Hyunjin stares up at him, gaze betraying confliction.
Changbin says nothing else, merely making his way to the hulking wooden door that separates their world from the cold halls of the rest of the castle. Hyunjin is a strong, commanding warrior outside that door, cold and unwavering on the battlefield and in the meeting halls. He protects his kingdom until his heart starts to burst at the seams and Changbin is left to sew together the pieces. Beyond that door, Hyunjin is the Crown Prince. But in these chambers, he is Changbin’s Princess, boundless in his strength and kindness but still a human who needs that kindness returned.
Changbin’s hand rests on the iron handle of the door when he hears that telltale whisper that tempts him every night.
“Stay.”