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Chapter Text

Blue tits were chirping. How long had it been since San had been inside a carriage instead of riding the horses up front? He had even volunteered to ride as always, but Yunho had cut him off.

“You’re on the way to meet your betrothed. No way you’re gonna ride. Relax, just this time.”

San rolled his eyes as he rested his head in his palm, looking outside the window.

How long had it been…

The sights were familiar. Maybe not that much had changed after all.

Maybe… he hadn’t changed that much.

The corners of San’s mouth twitched.

He hoped so.

“We’re here, San.”

The door of the carriage was opened and a boy with short black hair smiled at him. His eyes were round and full of joy as he made the way free for San to descend.

“Thanks, Yunho”, San said with a dry throat.

His eyes were on the ground, watching his feet while he stepped out. It didn’t take even one step until San’s heart made a leap. His white shoes were hugged by petals of white and pink. Some had brown edges, some lively red streaks. As San lifted his gaze, staring down a path walk of spring’s blossom, he felt his heart stop, forgetting how to breathe.

The gardens still looked the same.

The trees… were still the same.

It was an ocean of blooming trees, twinkling in the February sun. A cold wind was trying to fight the warm day, but San still left his coat in the carriage. He knew that there would be an archway just around, some paths leading in circles. A maze, a lake, a pavilion.

A shaky smile built on San’s lips. With careful steps, he approached the tree next to the carriage. A harsh gust of wind blew through the flowers on the branches, making them rain down in a soft snowfall.

San opened his hand, reaching out to grasp the fragile petals.

Steps sounded behind him. He heard Mingi groan as he heaved San’s belongings from the back of the carriage, while Yunho stepped up to San, eyeing his friend.

“Do you like the cherry blossoms?”

San was just looking up, watching the branches bow in the wind, flowers fighting bravely in the height.

“Those aren’t cherry trees.” He was more talking to himself than Yunho, smiling at the flowers in his palms, running his thumb over them in thought. “How many springs has it been?”, he asked, taking another step forward to look between the stumps of the tree. There was sparkling marble in the distance. The royal family’s quarters.

A cold shiver overcame San before he blew the blossom from his hand, watching them sail to the ground.

With nervous fingers, he adjusted the white bow around his neck, the ends of it falling in frill to his chest. The top button of his dark blue jacket beneath had opened again – his mum had told him multiple times to stop bulking up in favour of his clothes.

With a light sigh he closed it, facing the castle again.

“It’s been eight springs…” San’s voice was a hushed whisper in February’s hold. “It’s been… so… long…

The sign of tears prickled in his eyes when he thought about it too long.

And although his heart was happy to be here, to possibly see him again after so many years, his mind still told him to withhold. What his heart wanted was from the realm of fantasies. San learnt soon to not hold hopes in things that could not be.

“We have your properties unloaded, my Lord.”

San chuckled sarcastically. “You make it sound like I am leaving for good.”

The servants of his family bowed deep, “Isn’t that why you’re here, my Lord?”

Humming escaped San like the sounds of waking bumblebees. “Maybe.” And yet it was not more than a thought, a wish that was dragged away by the surges of spring to a place far off and locked, only one boy bearing the key to it.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

“What if I escape through the underground tunnels? I know that the dungeons are connected!”

Yeosang cracked an eyebrow at the prince furiously fanning air with his large white fan. “You? Entering a dark place? Doubt it.”

An echo sounded in the empty court of the castle when Wooyoung closed his fan with a harsh grip. If it had not been for the guards in their simmering white uniform standing at the gates and entrances, they would have been alone in the little yard.

It was a little comfortable place full of afternoon shades. The marble ground was falling into patches of mint coloured grass at some point, creating a little lawn Wooyoung loved to spend his time in. It was a little hidden place. Just the blades of cold grass between geometrical cut bushes in every form the royal gardeners came up with. The walls of the castle were high and thick, letting no eyes or sounds through.

Wooyoung rolled his eyes as he took slow steps to the little fountain at the end of the marble path. When the sun stood at its highest, it managed to get past the walls, falling onto the pale water, warming the white stone.

He took in the sight of his own reflection in the calm water. His dark eyes had an annoyed glint but were mesmerising, nonetheless. They were like two pieces of onyx stone, glimmering in the shades of grey. His black hair was falling into his eyes. Against the pleads of his grandparents, Wooyoung had always kept his hair long. It was just last week when he decided to get a haircut. His hand reached to the back of his neck, feeling his naked shoulder blades.

Weird.

The prince couldn’t remember if there was ever a time, he had his hair this short. It was still rather long in comparison, yet he was so used to the tickling strands in the nape of his neck, flowing in the wind, braided at his back.

He liked it though. Yeosang would always role his eyes when he’d say it, but it looked sexy. He looked sexy.

A proud smile glimmered in the water’s surface.

Would he think so too?

A deep sigh escaped Wooyoung as he adjusted the low cut of his pastel pink blouse. The huge heavy ruching was getting tangled in the wind, so he flattened them straight against the high-waisted bound of his long white trousers. He always had preferred wide trousers, nothing that would cage his body, nothing that would take his freedom.

Wooyoung would never let his freedom be taken away.

And so… not now…

“I won’t be married off to a stranger, Sangie”, the prince voiced in determination, turning. He gripped the railing of the fountain tightly, pulling his lips in a tight line. “I know that it would benefit our situation, but… isn’t Seonghwa enough already?”

The prince’s servant sighed deeply, “Your brother has been also in your place, Wooyoung. It’s not a simple task to escape your fate.”

A sarcastic grunt left Wooyoung as he opened his fan in a rush again, “Oh, please. Seonghwa married the man of his dreams.”

“What tells you that it might not be the same for you, my Prince?”

The moment Yeosang’s words reached him, Wooyoung stopped fanning the cold air, a blush taking form on his cheeks.

“Are you alright?”, the blonde boy asked as Wooyoung kept avoiding his eyes.

“Yes”, he murmured, clearing his throat as he fanned some air to himself again. “I’ll be going to talk with my parents again.”

“Wooyoung…”

Wooyoung shook his head.

He didn’t care for whoever person would arrive today. Of course, it bloomed him some day. As prince of the kingdom, it was written in his stars that he would be married to someone important at some point. But… it was just so soon. So unexpected…

The wind dragged a lonely petal to Wooyoung’s feet. With a frown, the prince crouched down, holding the little pink flower between his fingers. His eyes squinted as he felt the softness on his skin.

“Almond…”

The voice ringed like harmonious singing over the court.

“San?”, Yunho asked as San had suddenly halted – frozen in his steps. “The king and queen’s attendance room is this way.”

“I know”, San rasped, not having forgotten even one of the rooms. He would find his way through these halls blindly. He would probably still be able to call every and each statue by their name. The official ones as well as the ones they had given them in their pursuit of playing catch, and hide and seek.

Another sound ringed through the room. It was slight and possibly inaudible for others, but San would recognise the laughter from a mile away.

“Is the meeting with the family a pressing matter?”, San asked, eyes gliding to his left, where the doors lead to an open court.

 A knowing smile played around Yunho’s lips as he stemmed his hands in his hips, shaking his head. “You’re one of a kind, San.”

“I want to see him.”

San’s honest words would never fail to move his advisor’s heart and Yunho let his arms fall with a sigh. “I’m sure they won’t complain if you are eager to meet your betrothed sooner than later. You two… have a lot to catch up on anyways. Make sure to come by sunset. We have a lot to talk about.”

San gave him a timid nod before his feet approached the court cautiously.

It’s been eight springs…

And yet…

San’s breath caught in his throat.

…you’re as beautiful… as you were back then.

It was funny how San recognised Wooyoung despite all the years apart. He would have loved to say that he just looked the same as eight years ago, but just the missing length of the prince’s hair made San painfully aware that they lost years.

San hid in the shades of the castle’s walls as he watched Wooyoung fanning with a white fan, making his hair slightly waver in the air. He was talking to someone. A blonde fair boy? Probably his servant – San remembered Yeosang being annoyingly often at Wooyoung’s side.

Cold sweat broke on San’s hands as he left the safety of the shadow. Onyx eyes fell on him in an instant and San wondered…

Wooyoung’s words got lost somewhere on the way, trailing off while talking as his eyes fell behind his servant. A guy was approaching from the shadows of the walls.

A blush bloomed on his cheeks, so he hid his lower face quickly with his fan, only peaking with his eyes over the edges. Since when had the castle such handsome boys running around?!

Yeosang had noticed Wooyoung’s change in behaviour, turning to see who took his prince’s attention.

W-what?

Wooyoung’s heart raced when Yeosang suddenly made a step to the side, bowing to the boy approaching.

W-why was Yeosang greeting him so formally? Who was that guy that Yeosang paid his respect to like that?

The moment the handsome boy halted in front of Wooyoung, the prince could have sworn that not only his cheeks had taken a liking to the crimson – the boy also had signs of rose petals adorn the shade of his skin.

“As much as I dare say that the white fan makes you look even more beautiful, so I have to say that - much to your regret - I would love for you to take it down. I have been missing you for so many years that just that object between us is causing me pain, Wooyoung.”

The way his name rolled over the stranger’s tongue, the dimples slowly building as Wooyoung lowered the fan…

Wooyoung’s eyes widened almost comically.

With a light bow, Wooyoung was greeted, “My Prince, I-“

The words were cut short as the sharp echo of the fan falling to the ground drew attention. Wooyoung was hiding his quivering lips with a shaking hand.

It couldn’t be…

But the face. The straight nose with its adorable slope, the small eyes, twinkling in little slits whenever he smiled, the rough edges of his chin that just seemed to have enhanced throughout the years.

Yet… Wooyoung’s body trembled as he was met with his childhood best friend who suddenly was towering over him by a few inches. Last time the prince had been taller than him, but now… even the size of his shoulders had improved by so much…

Wooyoung couldn’t blame himself for not believing who had stepped in front of him…

But when San’s smile deepened, dimples carving into the sun kissed skin with the warmest of smiles he knew…

Wooyoung rushed forward.

“Oh my god!”, he screeched as he threw his arms around San’s neck, jumping up and surprisingly instantly held by the missed friend when he put his legs around San’s waist.

It was San! His San! San, they had spent eight years together at this very castle before they were painfully separated for another eight.

“Oh my god, Sannie!!”

San tightened his hold around Wooyoung’s waist, smiling brightly as he felt his heart beat contently. “I’m back, my Prince.”

With a heavy heart, San let the boy, who had started to wiggle with his feet, out of his arms.

“I told you so often to not call me like that”, Wooyoung scolded like back in the days, making San blush.

Wooyoung looked so pretty from up closely that it drove San’s mind in a frenzy. He had never really noticed the change in his body. His friends and family had told him a lot that he had grown, that he had gained a lot muscles. However, it never hit San as much as now that he was standing before Wooyoung, who used to be taller than him all his years studying at the castle. To San’s worry, Wooyoung looked very fragile. He had such a slim frame, shoulders narrow and body thin.

San doubted that Wooyoung would not eat healthily at this place – his brother and parents pampered the boy in love, they would not allow Wooyoung to make himself sick.

San reached forward, hand sliding over Wooyoung’s cheek before he touched the hair in the back. “What happened to your hair?”, San asked, clearly remembering Wooyoung not having it cut beyond the length of his chest in all the years they had spent together.

“Oh”, Wooyoung voiced, eyes still glimmering with some tears as he almost tried to hide sheepishly, “You don’t like it?”

The words stroke San like lighting. No, that was not it. If San was honest, it was the contrary. Wooyoung looked so mature that it robbed San of his breath. He couldn’t say that the open laying collarbones and back had not drawn his attention yet.

“You look lovely in it, Wooyoung. It suits you better than anything else.”

San was surprised to see the strong reaction, as Wooyoung’s cheeks painted dark red. Before he could say something else, Wooyoung attacked San with a hug again, pressing his nose into San’s neck, making San see stars of the slight height difference.

“I missed you so much!”, Wooyoung chirped, and San felt him smiling on his skin.

“I missed you so much too”, San murmured, burying his face in Wooyoung’s hair.

The moment seemed unreal to the both of them. San had only been at the castle to get a proper education, as a child he had never understood that he was to leave. He never understood that he was to leave Prince Park Wooyoung, who he had befriend before he was able to write a single letter with a quill.

San was the son of a noble family of warriors from the west. Mountains and waters alike had made visits unbearable, resulting in San and Wooyoung being separated for good. For eight years. If it hadn’t been for the little boxes and letters coming in every now and then, San would have not known of his best friend’s well-being. San had always thanked the brown carrier pigeon with the white bow around its neck with the highest regards. It brought the words of Wooyoung to him over the distance and over time.

They were looking at each other for a few seconds before Wooyoung broke into a little giggle.

San arched a brow as he watched how Wooyoung hid his smile behind his hand again.

“I can’t believe you’re really here! What are you doing here?”

The smile was probably the earnest one he had seen in years, and it made San… feel things again. Things buried far under. Nevertheless, San’s high flattened as he deciphered the words in his head. Wooyoung didn’t even know…

“If you had either have listened to me or your parents for once then you would not make yourself such a fool now”, Yeosang commented with folded eyes.

“Ah shush!”, Wooyoung barked, not liking the way Yeosang pictured Wooyoung in front of San. Yeosang talking made the prince painfully aware what desperate situation he was in right now.

To San’s surprise, Wooyoung grabbed his shoulders, looking at San so intensely.

“Oh, but if you are here, you could help me! Please help me, San. I beg of you!”

Goosebumps spread over San’s arms, gloves itching as he felt his fingers twitch. Was Wooyoung in danger? What did he need help with? A hollow feeling took over his chest as he dreaded to hear the horrific answer.

Wooyoung looked like he’d been in despair for a while, eyebrows knitting together as he started to bite on his lower lip – a habit San wanted to make disappear and if it was just in the favour of the cute mole living there.

“My parents arranged a marriage. They are trying to marry me off!”

Oh.

A sad smile settled on San’s lips.

“Please do something against it”, Wooyoung whined, tears swimming in his dark eyes while a pout came to light.

San exhaled shakily before he hummed.

“It’s me.”

“What?”

San took a sharp breath, taking Wooyoung’s adorable form in consideration.

“I’m the one… you should marry.”

Wooyoung’s sad look changed into one of surprise and… fright. His mouth opened cutely as he stared blankly at San.

“Huh?”

San couldn’t resist to chuckle. It was a bitter sound, voicing his pain as he was finally reunited with the boy, he… San shook his head.

“Don’t worry, Wooyoung.” San picked up the fan from the ground before handing it to Wooyoung. “We won’t pull through with it.”

As if those words shocked the prince more than the marriage news, the fan found its way to the ground again.

“Huh?”

Good lord… San sent a silent prayer to the heavens… if Wooyoung didn’t stop being his adorable self any minute his weak heart would waver into a direction they could not go.

A light wind dragged some almond petals over the court’s walls. Tears shot into San’s eyes as Wooyoung was suddenly wrapped into a light petal rain.

Don’t go, he heard the lovely boy in his memories beg. Stay with me. Don’t leave me alone.

His long dark hair had been flowing in the wind. San had always made him compliments about it and he wondered if that was the reason Wooyoung had never cut it again after they first met. Curling in slight waves they reached to Wooyoung’s lower back, hugging the young prince like a blanket.

“Don’t go, Sannie. I need you.”

And as much as San needed him and still needs him. As much as San and Wooyoung had awaited the day they would reunite again. San… he… he couldn’t…

The memories of his departure ached like old scars embedded in his heart. He would never forget the pain he felt that day and any day after. His mother had always told him that those wounds need time. Time that San didn’t want to spend without Wooyoung though. Yet, he had to go back to his family to train. He was the successor of the most skilled warrior family. His father had been the guard of the king for decades when they were still in their youth.

They had tried to bribe him. Tell him that if he trained well, he might become a guard for Wooyoung like his father was. But San wasn’t happy. If he was honest with himself, then the happiest of days were the ones he was notified that a pigeon with a royal seal had landed in their outposts.

The silence was suddenly deafening.

“Maybe that’s something to discuss in the throne room? His and Her Majesty are awaiting you anyways”, Yeosang offered as he followed the upsetting outcome of the reunion.

“I… I guess. Yeah, w-we can do that”, San stuttered quietly as he read Wooyoung’s saddened face.

“I’m going to accompany you to the king and queen, my Lord. Wooyoung.” Yeosang bowed slightly before going forward.

San reached to pick up Wooyoung’s fan once again. “It’s a really pretty fan.”

With a light nod, Wooyoung took it from San’s hands, sorrow filling his eyes as he saw the scratches of dirt now on it. “You sent it to me all the way from your home to my 16^th birthday.”

“It arrived way too late, did it?”, San chuckled as he tried to lighten the mood again. With some insecure steps he set in motion, following Yeosang while Wooyoung made small strides next to San.

“It did”, Wooyoung chuckled, only looking at the fan while walking. “Must have been around this time of the year. I remember using it when summer fell into the lands.”

San smiled. He had never received a message whether Wooyoung got his present. The boy never voiced it in his letter too. He would have loved to send Wooyoung a letter back. To ask him if it arrived safely, if Wooyoung liked it. However, Wooyoung’s carrier pigeon had a mind of its own – or rather a strict training – as the bird flew off the second San took the letter from him.

Nobody else could take the letters. If somebody else tried the bird would screech and pick at their hands. Only San was allowed to and the moment he took the paper, the pigeon was already on its way back. San had tried countless strategies, from luring the bird in a room without escape to having an already finished letter ready when he came to get the one from Wooyoung. In vain. All his plans had puffed into mere nothing as the pigeon was smart and knew how to get home. How to follow orders.

“Thank you”, Wooyoung suddenly said, getting San out of his head.

“For what?”

A rushing sound filled the marble hallway they were striding through. Wooyoung had opened the fan in front of his face, hiding his lips and nose. “For the fan.”

He closed it with a loving look.

“It’s my favourite. Or well… I don’t really accept using another”, Wooyoung grunted amused, “There was this whole drama at my brother’s engagement ball. It was one of those unbearable hot summer days and they had decided to celebrate outside but urgh… I really can’t stand the heat. I was being lightheaded for some hours and a high lord from the south had picked up on my well-being. He offered me his fan and I refused to take it and it was a big deal because the second prince was refusing this high lord.”

Wooyoung fell into a cackle when Yeosang threw the prince a sharp look. The story was probably less amusing for others than for Wooyoung.

“Such behaviour could imply a lot of things, my Prince. You should be careful with such things. You don’t want the weight of a war playing on your shoulders.”

“I was 17”, Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “Anyways, I only use yours. That’s…” Wooyoung’s world trailed off and San crooked a brow as he watched his cheeks dust in a light red.

“Hm?”

With a fast move, Wooyoung ushered the fan open again, holding it in front of his face. “I j-just use the one you gifted me. It’s something dear to me, that’s why I don’t accept others.”

San was quite content with how flustered the prince got in retelling that story and reason.

Guards stood at the heavy doors to the crown. Elements of artworks were complimenting the door as the guards moved to open the door for them. The creaking sound was still very audible, and San wondered if they ever cared to fix that.

A rush of nervosity got a hold of San. He never really realised why he was called here. But in the end, Wooyoung’s parents – the king and queen – had decided him, Choi San, as suited for Wooyoung.

A commodious room with just pillars supporting the walls and a ceiling in far height laid open in front of them. San had seen the throne room a lot of times, yet to see it once again, to experience it with his senses once again. It made feel San so small. So trivial.

Maybe a noble family like his, a noble lord like himself, was nothing compared to the royal family. People had always acted in horror when San had voiced that he had not only seen the royal family with his own eyes but that he was friends with Prince Wooyoung.

Two thrones sat at the very end of the room with the king and queen harbouring them. San had always liked Wooyoung’s parents. They were kind-hearted people who knew to protect what they loved. And although they treasured their family, friends, and towns the most, they would not bat an eye to defend their confederates and lands.

Yunho was standing with them, seemingly in a conversation and if San’s eyes didn’t fail him, then the guy on the other side must have been Seonghwa. Wooyoung’s older brother. Crown prince of the kingdom. Heir to the throne.

Yeosang led San and Wooyoung to the throne, before San fell to his knee, greeting the royalties with a bow.

A bold laugh bubbled from the king’s side as the man came to a stand. “Oh, Choi San! You never change, do you? Your family’s reputation of good-mannered people does really not die down with the generations.”

The queen also stood from her seat, “Please lift your gaze, San. You lived with us for more than five years. You are practically part of the family.”

San’s eyes shot up, surprised by the warm familiarity of the place. Seemed like San had been worried for nothing. Things hadn’t changed. The family hadn’t changed and most importantly… Wooyoung… hadn’t changed.

The queen hid a light giggle behind her hand and San couldn’t keep himself from seeing the similarities in her and her youngest son. “And soon are part of it.”

A pillar of ice cut through San’s heart. It hurt so much to see those people that he loved and adored for years that happily and yet he had to crush their smiles.

“Why did neither of you tell me that you want me to marry San?!!?”, Wooyoung screeched, going forwards with a threatening pointed finger.

“It’s not like we tried to hide it, son. You just didn’t want to listen to us.”

“That’s…”, Wooyoung blushed before whispering, “…true.”

San turned to Seonghwa and greeted him with a firm nod, Seonghwa did the same. Other than Wooyoung, Seonghwa seemed to have grown a lot since they last seen each other.

“Now that we are all here, we would like to discuss the matter on hand with the people involved”, the king offered, lowering down into his throne again.

San swallowed hard. The golden crowns glimmering on his and his wife’s head suddenly felt so threatening. Did he realise what he was about to do? He would turn down Wooyoung’s hand in marriage. What if his selfish decisions brought his home great disgrace? They were still living on the western outskirts of the kingdom; they still laid beneath the crowns protecting hands.

However, San thought of agreeing to the marriage and the bond was a greater, even more selfish act than denying it.

The king spoke up first, “I hope it didn’t come as too much of a surprise when you got the invite, San.”

San bowed slightly, fiddling for words, however Wooyoung beat him to it, making the young lord smile. Wooyoung had always been fast to find words, it seemed that his temper had not died down with the years.

“Certainly!!! It did! I haven’t seen San in years!! You all always forbid me to visit him”, Wooyoung pouted, and San couldn’t help but chuckle at the cute demeanour.

“It is a dangerous path, my Prince”, San hummed.

“Call me Wooyoung!”

“Wooyoung”, San corrected, smiling as the royal family laughed lightly.

San sighed as he had to agree with Wooyoung. If he was honest, he had thought that besides Wooyoung most of the people he had spent time with when he was there would not remember him anymore. How wrong he was.

A bitter smile froze on his lips.

He was well remembered it seemed… to arrange a marriage like that. San should have kept his feelings to himself. His young stupid self had gone to his mother to get a hold of the pain ravishing his heart after he was separated from Wooyoung. It took her not even ten full sentences to take San’s hand as carefully as she could to tell him that his heart had been taken by the prince. Of course, she would agree over his head to a wedding with Wooyoung.

“We never forgot you, San. You always hovered just around thanks to Wooyoung non-stop talking about you”, the queen said.

Wooyoung had…?

San’s eyes fell to the side, where Wooyoung stood wide-eyed a huge rose-coloured blush covering his face. He was literally glowing in the shades of a deep sunset. “T-that’s-“ With a loud rushing sound, the prince had opened the fan, hiding his face behind it.

‘Cute’, San thought as he stopped staring, before turning back to the queen and king.

“That’s a great honour, your Majesty. Thank you. However, I…”

Everyone’s gaze was firmly on San, who tried to get a composure of himself. This was harder than expected.

“I want this.”

What?

San’s fingers gripped the frill at his chest tightly. His head turned as slowly as possible into the direction of the prince.

The red cheeks were still as prominent, fan slightly lowered. The moment Wooyoung noticed that San was staring, he put the fan up again. “I- I wanna marry San.”

It felt like San was falling out of the skies. No.

“I don’t…” San stuttered away when he saw everyone’s faces fell. Even in Yunho’s face there was written an alarming question.

‘What are you doing? What are you doing?!’ the face of his advisor screamed. And if San was honest, he was asking himself the same thing. He remembered as clear as day the happy laugh and hugging session that followed after the marriage announcement at home. Yunho knew of San’s feelings.

Someone shuffled closer. San flinched when Wooyoung detangled the hard grip San had on his uniform and held his hand with both hands, fan weirdly in-between.

“San”, Wooyoung whispered, but San refused to look up, staring down at his white shoes. “Marrying you is certainly so much better than… you know.”

San squinted his eyes shut. Yes, yes, he knew.

Marrying his best friend was better than marrying a stranger.

But…

“I don’t approve of the marriage, Woo”, San whispered back, slipping his hand out from the loving hold of the prince before the desperate screaming of San’s heart could be heard by the people present.

“But why?”, Wooyoung whispered in a shushed voice as to not be heard by his family. He almost… seemed hurt.

San just shook his head, his black hair falling from side to side as it fell into his eyes. “If we both say that we don’t approve, I’m sure they won’t push through with this marriage.”

The king and queen exchanged a look once San had straightened out his shoulders again, having heard nothing about their conversation. But only seeing Wooyoung’s pleading look and San retreating his hand out of his grasp spoke more than words.

“We – of course – have no sight on the relationship between you two”, the king started, “We are just searching for proper connections since they are important for the ruling family. It’s not good to have a closed off family. Since your town is the furthest to the west and you and Wooyoung studied together we thought it might be a proper bond.”

San felt sweat break out on his skin. He was quite sure that the royal family would of course not inflict any harm to San if he refused, but there was still this fear. Fear of the power held by the crown.

Since San had not made up his mind yet, the queen stepped in to help the poor boy, “There are countless other suitors from other provinces. There’s no pressure on your side, San. And as long as your family hasn’t broadcasted the news already over the whole mountain line”, she giggled clearly thinking about San’s mum, who quickly got very excited about such things. “Nobody will know. However… don’t you want to give it some thought? Your town is surely the furthest to the borders.”

It would be a great benefit for them… San sighed. What should he do?

“And if Wooyoung wants to marry you…”, the queen proceeded.

However, it seemed as Wooyoung had been watching San’s inner fight from the sight, putting the fan between San and him, looking away.

San’s chest hurt.

“If San doesn’t want to marry me, I don’t wanna force him to it.”

“You’ve been traveling with the intention to stay, right?”, the queen voiced, making San nod slightly. It’s the reason why his servants had brought all his belongings with them. “If the long, exhausting travel has raked insecurities than how about you stay for some time? There’s our annual summer ball in late July. Wooyoung’s marriage isn’t a pressing matter, and we can give you time to get to know each other a bit. Get closer once again.”

“Oh my god! Yes!!”, Wooyoung exclaimed, putting the fan down again to grasp San’s arm with both his hands. His dark eyes sparkled like the thousands of lives at night sky whenever sun vanished at the horizon.

“That is such a gracious offer, your Majesty. Nevertheless, I don’t think that pushing through this bond would be of benefit to Wooyoung”, San now said, shaking his head and the deep guilt from his trembling bones. He could feel the cracks in his heart widen, the healed scars ripping open as he tried to keep his eyes dry.

He would not… stay. Staying would make everything harder. He couldn’t. He-

“Please, Sannie.”

San’s heart broke and he gave into it, looking to his side, gasping for air as he saw Wooyoung up close. Damned be his weak, oh so weak heart.

“It would be fun”, Wooyoung pleaded, puppy eyes enhancing the pout on his lips. A pout that San wanted to kiss away immediately.

San closed his eyes. All he could hear was the racing of his heart, the way his heart hurt to not allow himself the love he had been craving for years. Although maybe this was a way to find out. To find out if there could be more between him and Wooyoung. If they were given the time…

Until July…

That’s five months...

A light bow with his hands, before San sighed. “Yunho, bring my luggage to my quarters. I assume I-“

“The same room as back then”, the queen smiled widely. “Really San. You are free to go after the ball. We would have sent an invitation anyways. Just make sure to send a letter home to explain your absence and missing announcement of a royal marriage. We don’t want your parents to worry.”

San nodded shyly, feeling bad for the problems he was causing. Without looking to Wooyoung again, San paid everyone his respects with a nod, before leaving, Yunho immediately after him on hot toes.

Just when the doors to the throne room fell closed behind their backs, Yunho smacked his hand over San’s head lightly.

“Ouch?”, San complaint but was silenced by Yunho’s angered stare. The guards at the door exchanged a look but pretended to be unbothered.

“To your quarters. Now! We will talk.”

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The wind blew harshly into the little quarters. They were neat and rich of golden and white ornaments. The room seemed slightly familiar, but San had no head to give it much attention right now. His hands – already rid of the gloves – had been abandoned, laying on a cushion of an armchair, gripping the banister of the little convex balcony. The night was cold and the wind biting, but a perfect welcome to cool down San’s mind.

“I can’t believe what you agreed to!?”, Yunho exclaimed, going in circles in San’s quarters.

“Neither do I”, San whispered, upset that he had given in to this awful plan. Staying for five months… with Wooyoung?! It would make leaving again just so much worse.

“Can you in any way explain, why in hell’s name you turned down Wooyoung’s – Prince Park Wooyoung’s – hand in marriage?! Are you possessed by bad spirits perhaps? Have you eaten unwell!? Last time I checked in with Choi San’s feelings, the mighty Lord had been suffering from unreachable love for his childhood best friend, cherishing his letters more than the national treasures. So please elaborate to me before I take you for an imposter – what in abyss’ name did you think you were doing!?”

The frame of San’s muscular body was framed by the white translucent curtains swaying in the illusions of ghost and spirits as the winds toyed with them. The sky was deprived of stars, covered by misty dark clouds as were Wooyoung’s eyes when San had turned down the marriage. On the one hand, He had never expected to have Wooyoung agree to it. But on the other hand, it only made sense to San that Wooyoung would like to marry someone he already knew.

“Nothing changed”, San answered, leaning forward, his arm resting on the banister.

“Then… why?”, Yunho asked, softer now. San could imagine the way his eyebrows must have flattened out without even looking back. The lord’s gaze was following the paths of the royal gardens. Seeing the pavilion, the lake, the blooming almond and still sleeping peach trees surely woke memories. San’s heart was excited to be back and yet, he wanted to keep it safe. San didn’t know how much toll his heart could take before it would whither.

There was no reason for San to deny this wedding at first glance, right?

But at second… there was a lot to consider, and San had spent weeks inside that carriage with his thoughts alone. Thoughts that buried him in worry at night and his home as soon as the message of the royal family had arrived with the arranged marriage of him and their second son, Prince Wooyoung.

San would rather wear the shame for the rest of his life, would live with the looks thrown his way. But he could never ever life with being the source of Wooyoung’s unhappiness, in forcing him into something that wasn’t mutual.

Because to Wooyoung… San was nothing more than a really good friend.

And no matter how many flowers San would bring Wooyoung, Wooyoung would never see him in the way San saw the prince.

Wooyoung would never love him, like San did.

“I want to protect my heart for once. Wooyoung does not love me the way I do. I will forever live in an illusion of something that I can never truly have and… I don’t want to suffer for the rest of my life like that. I…”, San swallowed hard, “I have suffered enough already.”

The situation felt more than unreal to San. All the young lord wanted was to hold Wooyoung forever. To treasure the prince and protect him for the rest of his life. To… to marry him!! San wouldn’t marry Wooyoung though. Not as long as he was sure of Wooyoung’s feelings too. If they had been given time to figure that out, then they could have surely decided this easily. However, they had been ripped apart like the pages of paper when they had needed each other the most.

It wasn’t their fault that things between them had cooled off just a little – Wooyoung’s letters being the spark keeping the fire awake.

“I understand your position, but… give Wooyoung a chance or rather, give these five months a chance. Give you two a chance. You were in your early youth when you were separated. I have seen the way you react to him. It’s not yet time to lose hope.”

San just shrugged. He really didn’t want to agree with his advisor. Didn’t want to give himself hope for something that… hopeless.

A sigh sounded from San’s back. “It’s late. Make sure to find sleep rather soon, my Lord. Just one thing to give you on the way to good night’s rest. You’ve just been given the chance to not only have the one you’ve longed for since years but also to give him time to develop the same feelings for you. If I was in your position, I’d rather plan how to win the second prince’s heart than drown in misery. But that decision is not on me. I’m your friend and advisor for politics, but if you don’t want to listen to me, I can as much be nothing than the curtains swaying around you. Just be aware if you don’t marry Wooyoung…”

The door creaked open, Yunho already on his way out to leave San with the weight of his last words.

“Somebody else will.”

Chapter Text

“So, what have you come up with, my Lord?”, Yunho asked as he adjusted the sapphire stone on San’s chest that held the ruffles of the white shirt together.

San snorted but stayed quiet nonetheless as he put on his short black gloves. There were little silver stones sitting on the line of his thumb, which harmonised perfectly well with the pin on his black waistcoat. He threw a side eye into the mirror that stood on its long, elegant, and golden legs in the corner of the room, right next to the balcony. His hair was slicked back, not even a strand falling into his eyes as it accentuated his sharp jawline. Yesterday he had worn them a bit more freely, but the occasion longed for a more sophisticated look.

“I guess the way you tart yourself up is speaking for yourself.”

“You were right in winning over his heart”, San said absentmindedly, trying to flatten out the folds in his clothes that must have happened during their journey. “As long as Wooyoung doesn’t reciprocate my feelings, I won’t marry him. But we’ve been given five months – maybe that’s a good compensation for the time we’ve lost. Time with Wooyoung has always been something special after all.”

His advisor had a content smile on his lips, “Now there you go. This is the San I know.” He took some steps back, whistling at San’s attire, “I must say – not only Wooyoung will be impressed by those looks. I’m sure the guests will be charmed as well.”

Prince consort Hongjoong’s parents were coming over. It was a rather far distance they had crossed for them to visit the royal palace – coming from the outer Northenlands. The king and queen had given Yunho a list of events for the next days in which they wished San would participate. It wasn’t really a duty and San could easily decline, but since Wooyoung was attending most of those events too, it was a good way to spend time with the prince.

A knock got the boys out of their thoughts as Mingi – one of San’s servants who had come along the far way – put his head through one of the door wings. His short blonde hair looked like hay that hadn’t been combed for a while as he gaped at San’s appearance, eyes sparkling.

“Marvelous”, he said, making San give him a nod back in appreciation. “The prince consort’s family had arrived. I should announce to you that the tea table is already laid. They will await you in a couple of minutes.”

San gave him another nod, before he adjusted his bow a last time. With all the white ruffles, he would have to be careful to not let it hang in any of the dishes or tea while being in the company of the royal family and Wooyoung. An easy task. San had been through harder times. “Thank you for the information, Mingi. You and Yunho don’t need to attend. Have some leisure time.”

That made the advisor sputter next to him, “N-not attend? But my Lord, I-“

San gave him a pointed look, one eyebrow raising as he gave him a smile, “You want to watch me flirt and court the prince as you listen to the talk of adults trying to exchange pleasantries?”

The words Yunho had prepared got stuck in his throat as he nodded his head in understanding. “Me and Mingi will enjoy our leisure time.”

“Perfect!”, San beamed as he grabbed his dark blue coat; maybe they would be going outside over the course of the day – San wanted to be prepared. Although the sun had been warm and healing yesterday, the night had been a bit rainy, and ice had covered the grounds. It was due to the weather that the tea wouldn’t be held in the pavilion that San had predicted it would he held at but in the conservator – the winter garden – of the palace. San remembered it to be full of plants and curtains as the walls laid open in wide windows reaching from the ground to the ceiling. Curiosity made him wonder if the room still looked the same.

It was a weird feeling to stride through the wide halls of the palace all alone. Usually, Yunho was always at his side. However, as long as he was here, he wouldn’t exposed to threats. His eyes wandered to the white clad guards at the side and greeted them with a nod as they greeted him back. The royal palace was heavily guarded from the in- and outside. Even as they had entered the property the day before, they had gone through various stages of guards checking their identity.

San reached the ground floor of the palace, already seeing the dull white dress layering around the queen’s body. Her ashen hair was pulled in a high and decorated updo, the same colour as prince Seonghwa’s hair, which was seated in a small ponytail. His hair was fairly short, just around the same length as San’s had been, however the hairstyle looked elegant as the hair was held in the nape of his neck by a thin dark blue ribbon. He wore trousers and a jacket in the same royal blue, floral patterns wrapping around the sleeves’ ends and around the middle of his chest. The collar stood firmly up to his chin, accentuating his long neck. There was white ruching and a blue ribbon hiding beneath his jacket, but San thought that he probably wouldn’t lay down the jacket in the February’s midday cold.

“Good day, San”, he greeted with a soft smile as he found the warrior coming up to the royal pair. “Have you slept well?”

“Like back in the days, my Prince”, he answered with a little bow. A lot of time had passed, and San wasn’t really surprised that Seonghwa had picked up on the royals’ courtesy. It had been years back when Seonghwa, San, and Wooyoung had played together as children. It didn’t come as a surprise to San that Wooyoung was the only one who would speak completely informally to him. However, if that were the case, it needed to be proven another day and not when a special occasion was taking place where everyone tried to show their sweet side.

San looked around as they waited in front of the little winter garden. “His Majesty, Hongjoong, and Wooyoung are missing?”

Seonghwa laughed lightly, “My consort is right around the corner getting his parents. My father is about to ready the tea and food that our servants and the ones of Hongjoong’s family have prepared, while Wooyoung…”, Seonghwa trailed off with a steep smile.

“Late as always… I suppose”, Hongjoong said as he came around the corner of the hallway. Unlike Seonghwa, he looked more casual. Just a blue waistcoat with small patterns over a white shirt with a little white bow. He definitely wore his black hair the shortest of all the young men running around in this household, but that was perfect for the earrings covering his lobes to shine.

“Probably”, Seonghwa smiled benignly as he folded his arms with a happy glance to his husband. San admired the look Seonghwa and Hongjoong exchanged. It seemed like they were communicating without words as their eyes wouldn’t leave each other for a few seconds. With a little dust of pink on his cheeks, San averted his gaze feeling slightly inversive watching something that seemed so personal but also blushed at the thought that he had shared some long glances with Wooyoung every now and then too. He just loved the prince’s grey eyes so much as one could easily lose themselves in the sight.

Hongjoong held the door open for an elderly couple to appear. They had more years on their shoulders than the royal couple, but they were still shimmering in young colours as they clinkered in the golden jewellery all over their bodies. Seonghwa and San bowed slightly in politeness. It was funny how Seonghwa kept the etiquette like that. As a prince and especially the heir, there was no reason for Seonghwa to bow to anyone. The boy still showed respect and San liked that about Seonghwa. He would make a good king one day.

The queen held her dress to run up to the visitors. “My dear friends!”, she greeted as she gave them both a warm hug. “Welcome to the palace. I hope the journey has been good.”

San cringed slightly at the small talk that was already exchanged. As successor of the warrior clan he – of course – was also trained in etiquette, but sure enough it wasn’t one of San’s favourites to exaggerate like that.

Just as the queen was about to progress with her questions about their arrival, the king came around the corner and told them to take a seat at the table.

San looked a bit awkward as he glanced to the staircase reaching up to the higher levels where the royals’ bed chambers were situated. Where was Wooyoung? Of course, he could handle himself in such a setting, but it felt… weird, to put it frankly.

The family didn’t appear bothered by the fact that the younger son was missing, so San put on a happy face too.

And as expected, the winter garden had stayed the same. The large round table in the middle was decorated in a white tablecloth with patterns of flowers woven in colours of autumn leaves. There were biscuits and cakes sitting all around the table as well as prepared but empty cups at every chair. The green oxidised copper skeleton holding the windows was in a perfect colour to blend into the big leaves of plants San had never seen bloom outside. They must have all been presents from other lands. The glass door leading outside was closed, two guards standing outside to keep watch but not intrude on their teatime. San also saw the way the guards closed the doors to the hallway, leaving the guests and royalties in their little dome of glass.

Seonghwa led the way inside, patting a chair, “This is Wooyoung’s spot”, the prince said and gestured to the one next to it for San to sit.

San gulped at the way Seonghwa smirked at him. They really wanted them to get closer.

“And you must be the younger prince’s suitor, am I right?”, Hongjoong’s mother asked with a fragile smile on his thin lips, making San nod with a grin.

“I’m courting Prince Wooyoung, yes”, San said – not wanting to use the word ‘suitor’ for himself. San was… merrily a friend but explaining that to the old folks could take some while. San didn’t think he would be excited about discussing his feelings on this table now. “My pardon, my name is Choi San. I’m the successor of the Choi warrior clan of the west”, San rushed out, heart accelerating in his chest as he had forgotten that not everybody on this table knew him.

The woman’s drawn eyebrows rose, “The Choi warrior clan? Is he from-“ She trailed off with her words, looking at the king showing his teeth in a smile.

“Our dear San is the son of my former headguard, that’s correct. I would have let him stay at my side, but I didn’t want to stand in love’s way as he had found himself a girl not long after the fights in the north.”

San’s ears burned in a blush as they talked about his parents.

On San’s other side, Hongjoong was taking his seat, making San turn to him to escape to listen to the old people retelling stories about his parents that he never wanted to know.

“Hello”, San said with a smile, offering a hand, “I never got to introduce myself to you in person.”

The smile that was sent his way was adorable. It wasn’t a beaming one like Wooyoung always had for him but a shy one as he took San’s hand. “My name’s Park Hongjoong; I was excited to meet you. Seonghwa and Wooyoung always had so many tales about you. When I learned that you were to marry Wooyoung, I was thrilled to get to know you, although-“

San’s smile froze as he felt the grip around his hand tighten until it hurt slightly. Hongjoong leaned a bit closer so that the words would stay between them.

“I heard you declined the marriage. I love Wooyoung like a brother. If your aim is to hurt him, you have not one but two enemies.”

San was shocked at that, “I’d rather take my own life than hurt him.”

The harsh grip ended as Hongjoong leaned back with that shy smile again, “Then we will have no problems. Nice to meet you, San.”

San was aware that the decline could bring him some problems, but he never thought about what the royal family would think and do if he ever hurt their second son. If time hadn’t changed some things, then even Seonghwa was hyper-protective over his little brother. Perhaps he trusted San more since they knew each other for years, but San shouldn’t risk too much. He was still in a lion’s den if he so wished to hurt their cub.

San would never hurt Wooyoung though. He’d not even think about it.

The doors to the hallway were suddenly opened by the guards. Maybe it was already time for the tea… but that assumption was wrong.

Good gracious Lord.

San stood up, one hand flattening out the ruffling at his chest. He was glad that the tea hadn’t arrived yet. He would have spit it out in an instant.

There was the soft ringing of bells as he appeared hastily in the room. His cheeks were red like rose pedals, either due to the running or because of some light rouge. The ringing came from the bells hanging onto the thin pale pink ribbon holding half of his hair in a bun at the back, while the rest was falling in soft straight lines to the middle of his neck.

San was so used to Wooyoung’s natural waves that it took him some seconds to realise that it was really Wooyoung standing in front of him.

He wasn’t wearing make-up. San knew he didn’t since Wooyoung had always hated the feeling it gave to his skin. And still, Wooyoung’s lips were glossy like cherries as they stood on his olive skin. His hands were in dusky pink gloves with white lace at the end, a little white ribbon sitting on his hand’s backs. If all of this hadn’t San cost his sanity by now the dress he wore certainly did. Wooyoung had always been the type to do whatever he wanted, be it fashion’s choice or what his loose mouth sometimes said. Yet, Wooyoung never failed to charm San any less in all the years he had spent with him. Even during the ones he had nothing but his unrhythmic words written on paper.

The dress had the same pale colour as the gloves. The cut was like the one of his peach blouse from the day before, leaving out space to show his collarbones and beginnings of chest. A darker pink ribbon sat on the dress at the left side – right where his heart was as the sleeves followed into little puffed fabric. The dress followed along his body line to his waist before it opened in a wide skirt. The left side was held up, revealing more of the white underskirt that fell in layers like the one of his mother. The folds of the longest layer only reached up to his knees though, and San found himself staring at the white high boots – laced up all the way into a fine ribbon – for some seconds, before the clearing of a throat brough San back into reality. Back to the tea table from which he had just stood up as the only person.

To avoid the awkwardness of the situation, San offered his hand with a smile in Wooyoung’s direction. “I awaited you.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened at San before he looked to the rest of the table, bowing. “I apologise for my lateness.”

Hongjoong’s mother chuckled a bit, “How could we not accept the apology of such a beautiful young man. How I wished Hongjoong would have taken a liking to dresses too sometimes.”

The prince’s consort sputtered, “M-mother!?” A careless laugh fell over the table as Wooyoung approached with a slightly ducked head in embarrassment. San just smiled his way as Wooyoung took his hand, letting himself be led up to the chair next to him. His hand felt so right in San’s although the touch was more a phantom of a feeling than actual handholding.

Part of the etiquette, San thought with a little pained expression.

Just as he adjusted Wooyoung’s chair to the table, he made sure to bend down next to his ear. “You look beautiful.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened and his cheeks got red as San sat down next to him with sparkling eyes and a cute smile. Ah – so no rouge.

“Thank you”, he said with a stunned cute gape, and San couldn’t stop smiling and staring at the prince. He looked more than beautiful. He would make San lose his mind if he watched him just a bit longer.

Grateful for the distraction, San looked up to the king clapping his hands. “The tea!”

The doors opened in no time, servants rushing in to serve the tea after the queen explained in high tones what sorts she had brought to taste. San had never liked tea that much and would do his best to stay with only two cups until the visit was over. The biscuits would entertain him most and if they didn’t, then surely the beauty next to him would.

San stole another glance, heartbeat sitting out as he saw Wooyoung laugh at something one of the servants said while pouring him a cup. By all the heavens, Wooyoung looked so beautiful. San silently wished for Yunho’s company. He didn’t know if he would be able to keep his posture like this. His head already felt like mush just by being in the prince’s company.

There was a fluffy cream coloured cloth in Yeosang’s hands that he pulled over the backrest of Wooyoung’s chair. Probably his coat. So, San wasn’t that wrong in bringing his own.

“How are the lands doing?”, the king asked, making Hongjoong’s father answer.

“The borders are still not as secured as we wish but the knights are holding up fine.”

There was a shiver going through Wooyoung’s body at the words. The prince looked up at his parents and then to Seonghwa. Every time they talked about tactics, war, or just a fight in general – Wooyoung feared for Seonghwa to leave again, like he had to a couple of years ago. It was just the time Wooyoung had grown up an adult when his brother was asked to assist in the scramble that was going on in the north. It was also the time Seonghwa got to know Hongjoong – so, of course it hadn’t been entirely bad. Wooyoung had just been in a constant panic and fear for his brother to return safely.

His brother looked rather comfortable with the conversation though and it didn’t seem that the situation needed him.

Wooyoung sighed relieved and played with the fabric of his pink gloves.

“Do you want a biscuit, Wooyoung?”, San asked him in a gentle voice as he already reached for the basket in which the little cakes were sitting in.

And that was another thing. San was looking fine today. Back when he had entered the room, his mind had been full of possible excuses to mutter, but all of them fell down the second he saw San. He had taken a deep bow towards the guests in an attempt to hide his burning face.

He had… mild success. But gosh San looked hot.

“Yes, please”, Wooyoung smiled at his friend, trying to ignore the way his heart pondered in his chest. He watched the way San held the ruching at the front of his shirt flat to his chest as he stood to get the basket without his wardrobe hanging into any of the dishes on the table. The prince watched the way San handled himself so well with admiring eyes. He had always been kind and polite but so elegant? It must have come with the years but, urgh-

Wooyoung felt the heat rise to his cheeks again as he averted his eyes before San would catch him staring.

To his misfortune, his eyes landed on his personal servant, who gave him a challenging smirk as he tipped his own cheek to signalise Wooyoung that his had been in a deep red.

Wooyoung growled in his head. I know that, Yeosang. No need to make my misery even bigger.

“I recommend the one with strawberries, if it is still the case that you like berries?”

The sentence was more a question as San wanted to make sure that Wooyoung’s likes had stayed the same, making the prince’s skin tingle. San still remembered such little things about him? But who was he to talk… he did too.

“I love them”, Wooyoung giggled and took the cake out of San’s hands, slightly gracing San’s gloved hand and it made a shiver go down his spine. As Wooyoung realised that he was laughing, he tried to hide it with his empty hand, but San wouldn’t have that, pulling the wrist gently away.

“Your smile is pretty. Please don’t hide it. I love to see you happy.”

The words fell out faster than San’s mind could catch on, making not only the noble warrior but also the young prince blush in crimson.

“T-thanks for giving me the biscuit”, Wooyoung replied stupefied in a squeaky tone.

San rasped, “Of course” and minded his own business after that. Damn.

“We haven’t heard from you since the day you left, San”, Seonghwa now started, watching their little interaction with a fond smile, “How have you been? I heard you have been winning your clan’s tournaments since the day you came back. I assume you must exceed in your sword-fighting.”

San grinned, “Not only sword-fighting, my prince. It’s our clan’s speciality to fight in any given circumstance.”

There was a flash of excitement in the prince’s eyes, “How fascinating. I’d love if we could have a sparring fight another day? And, if we are talking  casually like that, you can address me with my name. It would make me happy to relive old times again.”

San smiled and nodded eagerly. It wasn’t as uncomfortable as he thought.

A hand on his right arm made him turn his head, the touched spot immediately running hot as he realised that it was Wooyoung. A Wooyoung with very sparkly and excited eyes. “Oh my god, yes! Let’s do some sparring tomorrow!!”

Seonghwa laughed meanwhile San felt his stomach drop to his feet.

The crown prince patted the younger prince’s head two times before shaking his head, “Not tomorrow, Woo. You know that Hongjoong and I are showing around his parents through the capital, right?”

The younger boy grumbled as he folded his arms. “The day after.”

Seonghwa chuckled again, eyes thinning in happy lines, “The day after.”

Although the conversation was cute and full of kindness, San’s heart beat thousand times per second. What did they mean? “Sparring?”, San voiced hesitantly. “I don’t want you to get hurt, Wooyoung.”

That made the prince gasp, “What!? Don’t play that card. If someone should watch out for getting hurt, it’s your ego after I am done with you.”

Although Wooyoung sincerely looked offended, San just knew that with his physique alone he could seriously hurt Wooyoung and it worried him. He didn’t want to spare with him.

A snort came from behind, “Please invite me, I wanna watch him try.” Another gasp followed from Wooyoung as he stabbed his servant with his eyes.

“Mum, did you hear what Yeosang said? Can we finally dismiss him?”

“Nobody gets dismissed, Wooyoung”, his mother dispraised with a sharp glance. “Now stop bickering when we have guests.” The words didn’t come across as sharp as intended since the queen giggled behind her hand.

Definitely a habit Wooyoung picked up, yes.

Wooyoung pouted as he slipped down the chair.

Stupid San. Stupid Yeosang.

It was true that Wooyoung had won a few sparring fights when they were younger. However,…

Wooyoung run his eyes over the fabric that was stretching around San’s shoulders. The buttons on his chest fighting for their life, holding the waistcoat together. His cheeks grew hot as the tea in his cup - steaming - at the thought of how his body must look underneath.

Stupid thoughts!

Wooyoung clasped his hands over his cheeks lightly, but it didn’t go unnoticed by the others on the table, ending their political discussion to pay him attention.

“Wooyoung?”, the queen asked hastily as she saw the younger son’s face burn up in an unhealthy red.

“I-I…”, Wooyoung started, the heat growing at the unwanted attention. He wobbly got out of his chair, feeling a worried hand of support on his arm. “I’m feeling unwell. I’m gonna get some fresh air. I’m sorry.”

The queen’s soft expression fell. “Unwell?”

Oh oh, Wooyoung. Wrong choice of words.

The king and queen were already halfway out of their chair, Seonghwa already standing as Wooyoung’s eyes flickered to the glass door. Yeosang already took the coat from the backrest when San interfered – getting a hold of the cloth.

“I’ll go with him.”

Wooyoung looked up to San, nodding slightly at the offer. He went to knock on the door waiting until the guards outside turned his way.

“My Prince?”, they asked in unison and looked up to Wooyoung.

“Fresh air”, he mumbled as he swayed with his arms a bit, wanting to grip for a handrail that wasn’t there. They should really install one. Just as the hand went into nothingness, another appeared on his waist, supporting and holding his body upright.

I’m gonna faint. I’m gonna faint. Wooyoung’s thoughts were racing as he squinted his eyes. San really didn’t realise that he was making things worse at this point.

“Woo-“, Seonghwa started but San turned over his shoulder.

“We’ll be back in some minutes. I’ll watch over him.”

The crown prince didn’t seem appeased by that, but also didn’t want to make a hysteric panic out of it. So, he sat back down, swallowing his worry for his little brother. As soon as the guards closed the door, San felt the cold seep in his clothes. He pulled his own coat closer. He had taken it the second Wooyoung had voiced to leave the room.

He still held the cream-coloured coat of Wooyoung, so San took his hands of the prince to throw it around his shoulders. He would need to make sure that they weren’t spending too much time outside as long as Wooyoung was in this dress. As beautiful as it was, it was really short and probably not really warm.

“Careful”, San said as he pulled the strings of the coat to a knot in the front, making a little ribbon. Now San saw the whole coat finally as it fell down to Wooyoung’s ankles, and it made his fingers feel numb. There were flower patterns in the middle of both sides. Embroidered tulips, roses and daisies wrapped along the ends of the fabric with enrichments of golden tendrils. The pattern wasn’t small and it made the huge dusky pink ribbon in the front – that San had made – seem so perfectly fitting.

San inspected Wooyoung’s face closely, hovering just inches from his. Wooyoung backed up a bit, wide eyes at the sudden vicinity.

“Are you feeling dizzy?”

Wooyoung shook his head, eyes still widen in shock. The expression made San dip his head to the side.

“Do you want to take a walk, perhaps?”, San tried since he wasn’t sure what Wooyoung needed to feel better, but the constant red colour in his face made him worry. He didn’t want to invade his personal space and check his temperature, but he feared Wooyoung could suffer from a cold or fever. However, it didn’t add up to San, given that the prince was perfectly fine when he met him yesterday in the yard.

Wooyoung nodded weakly and waited for San to lead the way, letting out a held breath when San was finally no longer close enough that he was able count the lashes on his eyes.

Way too close. How should I calm down when the reason for my panic is with me?! Wooyoung’s thoughts were sincere but yet, not less grave. He should stop thinking about San in that way. It’s not like San wanted him in any way…

They fell into a slow rhythm and Wooyoung made sure to make big playful steps at the stone path – jumping from one big stone to the other instead of walking normally like San did. San chuckled at Wooyoung’s behaviour though, mimicking him just seconds after watching.

This feels right, Wooyoung thought as he threw San a laugh. This feels like back then.

“Thank you, for coming with me”, Wooyoung said after they had walked through the naked gardens for a while, only the almond trees blossoming in the cold wind.

“I hope you feel better now. You worried us”, San remarked as he watched Wooyoung put his hands on the little stone bridge’s balustrade. The prince nodded and giggled as he heaved himself onto the stone.

“My Prince!”, San exclaimed as he immediately stepped closer, hands hovering in the air as he saw Wooyoung stand on the balustrade.

“It’s Wooyoung!”, he hissed but fell in a laugh, “Oh, look at your face! You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

“I just…”, San’s voice got timid. Wooyoung wasn’t a baby. He was 23. He shouldn’t… “I just don’t want you to get hurt. That’s all.” The warrior offered a hand towards Wooyoung, but the prince didn’t see it as he spread his arms to the side to balance out his steps.

“So… San”, Wooyoung started as he carefully put one boot in front of the other. “How has your life been?”

San had not been ready for such a deep conversation, smiling tiredly as he remembered the time, they had lost but didn’t let it ruin the mood.

“It had been wonderful”, San sing-sang instead, earning a little suspicious side-eye by the prince. The little bells on Wooyoung’s ribbon ringed lovely with every step he took, making San’s heart beat higher and filling it with familiar warmth. “When I was seven, I met the loveliest boy on earth.”

That made Wooyoung laugh happily. His dark straightened hair wiggled with the sweet sound as he bent over slightly. “Don’t be such a charmer”, Wooyoung cackled but challenged San with eyes glinting in mischief.

“I’m nothing but an honest man.”

“Man”, Wooyoung snorted, making San gasp in pretended offense.

“My training has paid off and I have grown nearly a head over you!”

The prince laughed, “You’re still the lovely, little boy I- iiiigh!!”

Wooyoung shrieked as he stepped onto a slippery part of the stone balustrade due to the icing of last night’s weather. The white boot slipped off – luckily on San’s side and not the water’s – and made Wooyoung fall.

San did not even hesitate, arms reaching up to catch the boy falling. One hand settled on his back while the other had found almost naturally beneath his knees. The jingling of the bells was loud in the quiet afternoon. Wooyoung’s eyes were closed, hands pressed to his own chest as his heart beat violently. The feeling of falling was still nesting uncomfortable in his stomach that he didn’t even notice the broad hands on his body.

“Wooyoung?”

The prince slowly cracked one eye open and then the other as he looked into San’s face adorned with a worried frown. “Heaven, you should watch your steps. My heart is suffering.”

Wooyoung blushed, “Oh, uhm…”

That was it. San didn’t care about personal space anymore. He carefully let Wooyoung down, making sure the prince was standing securely on both legs. One hand was still on his waist - and it wouldn’t leave so soon - while the other was touching Wooyoung’s forehead as gently as possible.

San’s frown only grew.

No fever.

“I- I…”, Wooyoung tried to find words under San’s fierce gaze. “I still must have been dizzy. I’m sorry.” It was a lie since Wooyoung had never been dizzy in the first place.

Dizzy in the gleam of San’s sexy body, his mind snickered at him and sometimes Wooyoung would have loved to shut up his annoying thoughts.

San took a step back, not wanting to break Wooyoung’s comfort too much. “No climbing on balustrades when dizzy”, he chided with risen eyebrows as he offered his hand for the utmost time. And this time – Wooyoung took it.

“Yeah, no climbing when dizzy”, Wooyoung mumbled, pretending to be pouting.

“How are you feeli-“, San started but stopped as he felt Wooyoung’s hand lay on top of his. He couldn’t feel his skin due to both of them wearing gloves but still the warmth that emitted from it. So tender. So elegant and soft. San wondered what his hand must felt like without it.

“I’m fine”, Wooyoung smiled up at him, “Better!”

“That’s great”, San smiled back, leading their steps carefully towards the conservatory again. The laughter inside sounded dully against their ears, getting clearer as the guards opened the door for them.

They hadn’t even taken a step inside when the king had already risen to his feet.

“Son, are you-“

“I’m fine”, Wooyoung replied hastily, not meeting their eyes. “I’m sorry for worrying you all.”

“Oh, it’s fine, sweetheart”, Hongjoong’s mother appeased, giving him a warm expression. “Your health is the most important. Besides, you two just came back in time for the second round to start.”

“Exactly!”, the queen exclaimed, clasping her hands with a little laugh, “They rhapsodised about their special tea leaves while you had been away. I can’t wait to taste the magic of Northernlands!”

“It won’t be disappointing. Whenever we dish them up, it’s a whole spectacle!”, the noble woman gushed,  making the queen gasp in excitement.

San helped Wooyoung sit down, before he retreated his hand from his body as he realised Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and Yeosang had picked up on their handholding.

He used the noise of the opening door wings as a possibility to clear his throat. Servants were coming in, holding cans of steaming liquid as they walked around to pour the nobles different kinds. Some requested, some as a surprise.

“Wahhh”, Wooyoung looked into the well decorated ceramic cup. “It’s so yellow. I think I’ve never seen something that yellow! Look, San.”

The boy leaned closer to smile at Wooyoung who excitedly showed his cup. San took some of the sugar in case he or Wooyoung would need some before his eyes fell on Seonghwa.

The crown prince sat in front of the same cup of yellow tea as his brother, however, his eyes were less amused.

“Oh ooff”, Wooyoung quietly said as he scrunched his nose, smelling the tea. It must have been less well-scented as the rose tea he had drunk before.

Seonghwa reached for a spoon and it baffled San. Wasn’t it of good etiquette to try something before readjusting the sweetness? He didn’t go for the sugar though. He didn’t go for anything as he put the spoon inside the cup, eyes gradually widening in shock.

What was wrong?

But it didn’t take a second for San’s to realise what was happening when Seonghwa pulled the spoon out of the liquid, metal corroded and vitriolised. Gasps fell from all around the table as they must also have witnessed it, but all San saw was Wooyoung who already had the cup pressed to his lips. His stomach plummeted, cold sweat breaking out.

“Wooyoung!!”, San yelled, making Wooyoung flinch hard. He watched the liquid dance inside the cup closer and closer to the edge. His right arm reached around Wooyoung’s body as his left one gripped Wooyoung’s wrist to make the boy hold the cup still. However, all the stress made Wooyoung release the cup, staring widely at the shards on the table, liquid eating through the tablecloth in a sizzling sound.

San jumped to his feet, yanking Wooyoung – who let out a screech – with him, arms tightly around him as he dragged the second prince an armlength away from the table.

“By all the Gods”, the queen gasped as she watched the liquid dissolve the tablecloth more and more.

Seonghwa’s eyes were still widened in shock but went into a dissecting glare as he picked up his cup, pouring it slowly onto the table and watched it eat away at everything it touched.

“A whole… spectacle, you say?” His expression was so angry that his own brother didn’t even recognise him anymore. “This is acid!”, he hissed, prompting his hands against the table, rising to his feet. “Close all the exits!!”, he shouted and the guards who had been lured by the commotion set in motion.

Seonghwa left his chair, rushing to his little brother, “Wooyoung! Wooyoung, did you get it on your skin? Are you hurt?”

Wooyoung shook his head, heart beating wildly and painfully against his ribcage as his eyes were still on the hole that had burnt into the table.

“We- We can’t explain that”, Hongjoong’s mother gasped, close to tears. “Your Majesty, we would never-“

“Silence!!”, the king rasped as he got to his feet. “If San hadn’t reacted that fast, that… liquid… would have gone inside my son’s body! There’s no tolerance to show!”

Wooyoung’s lips and body were shaking more and more violently at the thought of what had just nearly happened. He just nearly… A sickening feeling spread in his gut as he saw the state of the tablecloth. Tears slipped off his eyes before he even knew it, hiccupping on his own breaths.

As if it terrified San more than the acid burning in the teacups, he jumped at the sound of Wooyoung’s wailing, running his hands over Wooyoung’s exposed arms. “Shhh, Wooyoung. You’re alright.”

But Wooyoung wasn’t. His breaths were harsh and hurt in his throat as he tried to gasp for air. His eyes were wide and lost as San picked up on his panic state.

“I would never dare to poison the princes!”, Hongjoong’s father yelled, making Wooyoung just react harsher, and it broke San’s heart. They needed to leave.

The king growled, blocking the door in an angered stance, “If you insist on that so much then why not call back your servant and see if one the teas you brought will burn the skin of your hand?”

“ENOUGH!”, Seonghwa shouted, leaving a thick silence only filled by Wooyoung’s quiet sobs. San held him closer to his chest, hoping that his heartbeat could calm him down a bit. “This all doesn’t need to be bad blood between our families. We got set up. I have seen the hollowware the teas of Hongjoong’s family were transported in. They were of ceramic and stone. Both would not be able to hold acid like that. Whoever brought the acid, did not bring it with the goods of the family.”

The king still had a sharp glint, “What do you want to imply, son?”

Seonghwa eyed his surroundings before he sighed, “Whoever brought the acid is probably already back to the capital. Making enemies out of the two most powerful families of the kingdom was for sure not a plan from the inside ranks. As your son in law, I expect smarter play from you. So, I believe in their innocence. Someone set this up.”

Just as everyone around munched on the crown prince’s words, Seonghwa turned to San and Wooyoung. “San”, he softly addressed. “Please, bring Wooyoung to his chambers. Yeosang get the physician. We don’t want to risk anything. He was far too close to the acid.”

“Yes, my prince”, Yeosang replied with a dry throat and bow before he stepped out the room.

The young prince clung to San’s waistcoat like it was his lifeline. “Should I carry you?”, San asked softly, heart breaking at the shaking of his gentle, pink-clothed fingers. The warrior didn’t even have time to burst out in rage and fire at the possible damage that Wooyoung escaped by hair’s span. No, not yet. His well-being came first. He would join Seonghwa and the others later to discuss it.

Against San’s expectation, Wooyoung shook his head, slowly letting go off San’s clothes.

San led Wooyoung out of the room and carefully up the stairs. The physician would be there for a check-up in just some minutes, but he made sure to not leave Wooyoung’s side until then.

Chapter Text

“I told you that I didn’t touch it”, Wooyoung pouted as he picked all over at his wide linen shirt. The dress wasn’t the best for the physician to look for any injuries, so Yeosang had searched for something comfortable to wear. Wooyoung was absolutely sure that the acid did not even touch him and as soon as his nerves had calmed down from the initial shock, he started to protest against the examination.

The physician didn’t take the case as lightly as the prince, and Yeosang showed his gratitude in his stead.

“Where did you send San?”, Wooyoung whined, totally better now, and it made Yeosang sigh.

“I just sent him away so he wouldn’t see you unclothed, my prince. I think that is not only in my interest. He said he’d get his sword from his chamber and alert his people but would be back then. I’m sure he’s already waiting outside.”

Exactly like Yeosang said, San had been pacing in front of the door, stopping as said servant opened it. He rushed inside without batting an eye. “Wooyoung!”

Wooyoung’s face lit up at the sight of San, throwing him a little smile.

“Are you well? Is there anything amiss?”, San asked with a worried frown as he came to a halt in front of the prince. His voice was drunk on worry.

“I am fine. It was nothing.”

“Nothing”, the physician grunted. “By all respect, my prince, but if that acid had come in touch with your body, it would have been severe. It’s nothing to take lightly, even if it turned out well. It could have ended on a fatal note.”

The wise words of the physician made Wooyoung look down timidly, shrinking down in his sitting form.

San built fists at the side of his body, “To think someone would go to such lengths…” He shook his head, before he closed his eyes to take a deep breath.

The physician packed his equipment before bidding his goodbye. San didn’t waste a second as the door closed.

“By heaven”, he exclaimed, leaving his keyed-up posture to awkwardly hug Wooyoung sitting on his bed.

“San?”, Wooyoung asked, confused at the sudden affection.

“I’ve been so worried. Not only the acid”, San ended the embrace, “But the way you were shaking! Are you certain that everything is alright? If there’s even the tiniest of things awry, please tell me. Do not keep your health a secret. Not to me.”

“I’m fine”, Wooyoung said, but San saw the way his fingers curled into the sheets of his bed.

Of course, San wanted to do nothing else but believe him, but memories of a young Wooyoung spread over reality.

Wooyoung had always been a bit reckless. Really bad injuries had been a rarity, however – he often tried to hide or trivialise injuries or pain until it got worse. There was no real indication in his voice or expression that would point to such a conclusion. San couldn’t ignore the little wince in his body though and would remain wary of the prince’s condition.

“Wooyou-“

“Thanks to you!”, the prince shouted, gripping both of San’s hands. And that was the moment San felt it – the tremble. “Thanks to you, nothing had happened. You saved me.”

Oh. Maybe he was jumping to conclusions but… Did Wooyoung perhaps just want to be comforted?

San let his fingers run over the soft knuckles of the prince’s hands. There were a lot more sparks, without Wooyoung’s gloves – however, San wished he could just discard his own too, to feel Wooyoung’s warm skin buzz beneath his fingertips.

“I barely reacted”, San denied, “If your brother hadn’t acted as witted, you…” The lump that had grown in his throat slowly made speaking unbearable.

Wooyoung’s eyes grew pleading at San’s sorrowful expression, “But you did react! So, thank you.”

At the clearance of a throat, San released Wooyoung’s hands out of his hold. Not because he was embarrassed but just because he didn’t want to share such vulnerable side of himself with the prince. Not even to the royal servant.

“Was there any conclusion or hint to who could be the culprit?”

San shook his head, looking to Yeosang, “I’ve sent my advisor to the crisis meeting that the royal family is holding and was just about to make my way there too. I decided to stay just long enough to make sure that you are well.” The last words were addressed at Wooyoung, who looked down to his feet. “I’d head there now – if that is alright? Unless there is something – anything – that you need. Be it a cup of water, I’ll bring it.”

“No, I’m alright”, Wooyoung declined, getting to his feet. “If anything, I’d like to join you and my family. They were as much a target as I, so I’d love to be with them.”

The movement made the little bells of his ribbon jingle and it broke San’s heart to see the pretty prince in such a shaken state. How cruel must someone be to try to harm someone as cute as Wooyoung?

San bit down the urge to reach out and tug the loose strands – that had freed themselves of the half-updo – behind his ear and out of his face.

If San was honest, he would rather have him stay there. Stay in his bed, beneath the safe covers of his sheets. The determined look of the prince was unwavering though and although the little wince from before still plagued San’s mind like an illness, he nodded at the prince’s pleading.

Just as San had reached to hold open the door for Wooyoung and himself, the prince turned around to his servant. “Yeosang, as soon as that meeting meets an end, I’d love to take a bath.”

The royal servant bowed deeply with a hand pressed to his chest, “It will be readied by the time you are back.”

San closed the door carefully but didn’t move as he looked back to Wooyoung. The prince looked up at him curiously before averting his eyes.

“Please don’t lie to me”, San said, “We’ve been friends for so long. What’s bothering you?”

“You’d give me everything I’d need?”, they were the exact words from before, making San nod his head in curiosity. He hadn’t said those words just for decoy. He meant it and would forever mean it. The gods be damned – San meant those words when he had muttered them to him at the age of ten -  Wooyoung had been on bedrest for a week because of a little headache.

Wooyoung’s lips barely moved but San understood it nonetheless.

“Hug.”

His whole body pulled inwards. Everything hurt as San heard the vulnerable tremble in the prince’s words. The noble was not even able to look the warrior into his eyes. Maybe his body had escaped unscathed, but Wooyoung’s heart might not have done so. San didn’t ask again, just taking a step closer and wrapped his arms around the prince. Wooyoung instantly leaned into the hug, putting his chin on San’s shoulder. He pressed his hands against San’s back as they just stood there for some time.

“Thank you”, Wooyoung whispered as he ended the hug and San just caressed his cheek with fingers light and soft as a feather.

“Like I said”, San emphasised, “Anything.”

Now Wooyoung smiled and it for sure looked more honest than before.

The tension in the air was thick and Wooyoung took a sharp breath as the guards opened the doors to the meeting room. His brother hit his palms onto the round table – usually full with plans or maps – eyes in a wild glint. His hair looked dishevelled, as if he had run his hand through it multiple times despite the ponytail holding it at the back. His jacket had been discarded to the side of a chair, the shirt beneath was open to the middle and the ribbon loosened around his neck. Hongjoong was right next to him, face as serious as Seonghwa’s but with a mix of worry as he had a soothing hand on Seonghwa’s underarm.

The physician that had checked Wooyoung just back then was packing his utensils; most likely he had also given Seonghwa a quick check-up since both princes had been the ones who were closest to the acid.

“I am perfectly healthy. As I said. Now let’s get to the importance of the situation, will we?”, Seonghwa grunted with a quiet but annoyed voice.

The physician hissed with a grumpy expression, “The princes are as selfless as ever. I wonder where they got it from?” The glance thrown towards the king was swiftly discarded as the king didn’t pay him any mind.

Just as Seonghwa wanted to growl again, his eyes followed the physician taking his leave. The way his expression flattened out into something empty, before filling with worry made Wooyoung swallow. Eyes landed on him.

“Wooyoung.”

The lump in Wooyoung’s throat grew bigger and bigger and he blinked furiously to not start to cry when his brother ran up to him, taking him in a bone-crushing hug.

The ashen prince pressed his face into Wooyoung’s still perfectly laid hair, taking in the scent of his brother. Wooyoung giggled weakly at his behaviour.

“Please tell me – for the love of God – that you’re fine.”

A grin spread on his face as he wrapped his arms around Seonghwa’s neck, “I’m fine. Not hurt. Nothing.” The smile was audible in his words as Wooyoung wiggled to get out of the embrace, before tugging San closer.

Now Seonghwa’s attention also caught onto San shortly, before his eyes widened and he bowed down deeply – causing gasps from the Kim family.

“My Prince, there’s really no need-“, San started but was promptly interrupted.

“You saved my brother’s life. If anything, this is the least I can do to show you my gratitude.” Seonghwa’s eyes were serious as he met eyes with San; Wooyoung looked between both boys with a nervous glance.

San opened his mouth to protest again but stopped his intention mid-sentence at Wooyoung’s pleading eyes.

“Thank you, my prince”, San voiced hesitantly, making Wooyoung smile.

The queen waved his hands for Wooyoung to come closer and he scooted over to give his mum a soft hug. His father also reached over to pet Wooyoung’s hair softly.

“Now that everyone is here”, one of the head guards of the palace murmured, “We should discuss our next steps.”

“Yes, we should”, the king said, looking at Wooyoung, “Have the exits all been blocked like Seonghwa ordered?”

“Immediately, my Majesty. Even before the order, we have been on high watch. There was nobody entering nor leaving the estate.”

Wooyoung tipped his chin, “Does that mean the person who delivered the acid is still here?”

“Not necessarily”, Seonghwa said while straightening up and closing the buttons of his shirt, “If this was a planned attack it could have been placed here long ago. The tea with the Kim family had been scheduled for months already.”

Wooyoung folded his arms as a frown placed on his face. But what did that mean? If Seonghwa said that the acid had been here for some time – and the culprit was not here – there must have still been someone who put it into the palace storage into the first place. There was no way acid could survive so long in any of their cans too… that being said…

“How come the cups didn’t dissolve at the contact with the acid?”, Wooyoung asked into the round, making the king hum.

Seonghwa reached onto the table where some of their cups were laying around together with the shards of the one Wooyoung had broken. Just as Seonghwa was about to pick one up, Wooyoung reached for his wrist. “Wait! Is it safe?”

His round puppy eyes sparkled in concern. Seonghwa gave him back a soft expression, petting his head soothingly.

“They were thoroughly washed already. The physician also cleaned them again with some of his disinfectant.” Seonghwa picked up one of the shards, looking at them closely before picking up one of the other cups. Wooyoung watched his brother and took after his example, taking the cup Seonghwa had drunken from.

His grey eyes wandered over all the decoration wrapping around the white, shiny ceramic. His eyes folded in a deep frown as he let his fingers run over the inside. Wasn’t ceramic meant to be smooth and even? Bumps sat on the surface inside. It felt like he let his fingers caress over stone. The king spoke over his sons’ heads to the Kim’s – trying to speculate on a way the acid had come in. Someone stepped next to Wooyoung as he ran his fingers over the inside.

“Is there anything, Wooyoung?”, San asked as he watched the boy inspect the cups.

“I’m… not sure”, he murmured as he put back the cup. Now that he looked at the shards again… They looked completely normal, but as he touched one, he felt it again. The raspy feeling to it. It looked almost like there was something inside Wooyoung’s and Seonghwa’s cups that was not in the others. Weird, but that must mean…

A shiver went over Wooyoung’s shoulders.

Why would they be targeted like that? It made no sense. Especially because the cups had already been on the table when they entered. If they had sat in a different order, someone else would have gotten the cups. Was this a coincidence or planned? Besides, they were old cups. Wooyoung and his family had been using them for years. There was no such thing as a raspy coating inside. Never had been, no.

Again, Wooyoung let his fingers slide around the inside – especially the edge – of the cup. If there was a coating placed inside then he must have been able to at least feel the transition, right? It was normal outside so-

“Agh!!”, Wooyoung suddenly exclaimed, retreating his finger like he had been burnt, and it made everyone look over.

Wooyoung couldn’t even feel the tiny scratch that drew some blood from his fingertip, when San already grabbed his hand gently.

“Was there still acid on it?!”, San shouted, pulling Wooyoung closer in a concerned hurry, an arm wrapping around his waist.

“No, that’s not it”, Wooyoung said, stopping Seonghwa, who already reached to send for the physician again. “There’s a coating. Have you found it too, Seonghwa?”

Seonghwa went closer to Wooyoung to see what he meant. In the meantime, San had turned to get a little handkerchief for Wooyoung’s finger. The boy hissed as San pressed it carefully against the cut.

“A coating?” San asked, curious now that Wooyoung had his finger wrapped.

The prince showed the cup to San, putting it into his hands. “Run your finger over the edge inside. But carefully!! There’s a really sharp spot where I cut my finger. The coating must have been applied in a hurry. It’s done messily.”

Seonghwa and San both looked closely at the cup, San felt over the edges taking a sharp breath as he must have felt the sharp edges.

The king asked for the cup as soon as the boys were done with their examination. “So, there is a special coating on the cups?”

“Not all cups, no”, Wooyoung pointed to the shards, “Only on mine and Seonghwa’s.”

Wooyoung flinched as the king slammed the ceramic cup onto the table. By sheer luck it didn’t disperse into fine dust. “Head guard Junhyo, call for your guards!!”

“Father, I don’t think it’s-“

The king growled, his eyes were spitting fire as was his tongue, “If someone put a target on my sons’ backs, they will feel my wrath. Nobody gets away with that.”

Wooyoung clung onto the king’s arm, his face distorted in a desperate urge, “But don’t you think that it would have been impossible for them to know? The order of our seats wasn’t decided, it could have been anyone.” A hand laid softly on Wooyoung’s straight hair, petting it lovingly before the king dismissed his thoughts.

“Still, there must be a person who poured the acid into the tea. And then poured only those cups with poison. Someone in our ranks knows about this.”

“So… whoever is behind this-“, Wooyoung started, turning to Seonghwa as his brother let out a low growl.

“Has someone in the palace.”

The words made Wooyoung nervous. “Do you think they are still here?”

Seonghwa let his eyes wander darkly, “I can’t tell.”

The king let himself fall into the chair behind him, “Junhyo, strengthen the protection around and especially inside the palace. If someone is between our ranks, we don’t give them a chance to strike or well… I think the person here won’t act on their own.”

The head guard bowed; a hand pressed to his white clad chest. His longer brown hair felt over his face as he followed the order of the king. “There won’t be any person hurt on my and the guard’s watch.”

The armour of the guards clattered as they left the room, a long sigh from the king accompanied them. “Wooyoung come here again. Please”, the older man said as he closed Wooyoung in a tight hug. “I’m so relieved you are not hurt.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you, dad.”

“Ah shush! It’s not your fault. We should just be more careful from now on.”

Wooyoung looked up with a pout, “Does that mean the palace isn’t safe anymore?”

The king shook his head, “It is safe. There won’t be an open attack, otherwise it would have long happened. However, to ensure your safety, I’d love to know you are here, where nobody unknown can sneak around. That means you are cancelled from any upcoming activities-“

“No! Dad, that’s not fair!”

The expression of the king looked pained as tears glimmered in Wooyoung’s eyes, “Son, you need to understand-“

“B-but it’s the ball. The Snowdrop ball. It’s the first since New Year’s Eve, please.”

The king sighed, “Wooyoung, you know that I’d give you whatever you want. But this is about your safety-“

“San will be with me!”, Wooyoung shouted, running up to San and clinging to his arm, “He’s a trained warrior, he can protect me!” The prince just realised that he was talking as if San wasn’t in the room, looking up to his friend. “You’d protect me, right?”

San reached for Wooyoung’s hand, holding it gently as he shared a serious glance towards the king. “With my life.”

“You and Seonghwa will be there too, I assume”, Wooyoung continued, “Hongjoong too! And even if you can’t be with me the whole time-“ The hand around San’s tightened, “San can! I promise I won’t ever leave his side for the whole evening, just please-“

Even though San was more or less just used as insurance for Wooyoung to get the allowance to go to the Snowdrop ball, it filled San’s heart with warmth.

A whole night – ball night – with Wooyoung.

His heart sped up.

Before the king could make his judgement, Wooyoung’s brother chipped in with an idea. “I do not think it’s a bad idea. San is Wooyoung’s suitor after all.”

San chuckled at Wooyoung’s low grumble, “Not suitor.” Nobody except San seemed to hear that though.

Seonghwa continued, “San has promised me to show his fighting skill in a sparring match. Since the sightseeing with the Kims is cancelled, we can just do that tomorrow, if that is also in your interest. I trust the Choi clan in their training, however – this is my precious little brother’s life I trust you with. I want to see you prove yourself.”

San bowed slightly, “I will certainly do that.”

A sigh escaped from the king again. The years on his back had made him… tired. More tired than the years back when San had been here to study. “I trust my son’s judgment then. Tell me your decision by tomorrow.”

“Yes, father”, Seonghwa said, looking less upset than when Wooyoung and San had entered the room.

“If there is nothing else, then you are dismissed. I need to check in with the guards again and we will search for the object where the poison was held in. If the cups that held the acid had a special coating, so must have the can it was preserved in. I will check on both of you later, boys.”

Seonghwa and Wooyoung smiled at their father and mother before Wooyoung took San’s hand and dragged him out of the room. San bowed hastily and murmured a polite sendoff before the guards at the door closed them off from the king and queen.

“So, we spare tomorrow!!”, Wooyoung said excitedly, “Can’t wait to break you all like twigs!”

Hongjoong laughed at that, “The last time we spared, you nearly started crying.”

With hands stemmed in his hips the prince turned, bells ringing softly, “You stepped on my little toe – I was close to death’s door.”

Seonghwa and San snickered lightly while Hongjoong snorted, “As you believe, my prince.”

Wooyoung was still whispering low insults towards Hongjoong when Seonghwa longed for his attention, “I’ll go and join the guards in their search for the coated object. Is it alright if I leave you? Me, Hongjoong, and our parents are always around. And if there’s anything, there are guards everywhere now and no, we won’t call them back from your chamber. Higher security means higher security. And I assume Yeosang and San are-“

Seonghwa stopped harshly, taking a deep breath to continue but halted completely as Wooyoung reached for his brother’s hands. “I’m fine, Seonghwa. Do not worry, please. I’m also not really scared. I trust you. And our parents. And our guards. Especially Junhyo, he’s scary sometimes.”

That made Seonghwa laugh up dryly, “Don’t let him hear that.”

“No, but really”, Wooyoung voiced, leaning closer and pressing his head into Seonghwa’s neck due to their little height difference, “Stop worrying about me.”

Wooyoung felt the tension fall from Seonghwa’s shoulders as he clasped his hands around his little brother quickly again, leaning into a soft hug. “Thank you.”

The prince watched his brother and his husband leave around a corner, shaking his head as he saw Seonghwa check for Wooyoung a last time before disappearing behind the wall.

“Worrywart”, he giggled as he stemmed his hands in his waist. “Well…”, he turned to San, bells ringing, “I’m sorry that your first day here was so bad, Sannie. I hope you don’t want to spend less time with me because of that.” The pout on the prince’s face was adorable and San hastily shook his head.

“Not at all, Wooyoung. I said to spend the next five months here. It’s not the first time the royal family or we as nobles have been threatened, right?”

Wooyoung nodded. Sadly, both Wooyoung and San had been way too familiar with the dangers that came with being a person of power and public interest. They both had soon learned that there was nothing to do about that but to endure it and work to their best abilities to be able to defend themselves.

“My bath will be ready for sure. I can’t wait. If you excuse me-“, Wooyoung voiced, already turning but San grabbed for his wrist.

“Wait!”

Wooyoung’s surprised glance made San retreat his still gloved hand. The linen shirt fell off Woo’s shoulder slightly as he turned back, lips agape.

“I just… wanted to ask something. It seems kind of trivial at such dire times, but…”

“There’s nothing trivial when it’s about you”, Wooyoung said, making San blush.

“You said you want to spend the Snowdrop ball with me.”

Wooyoung’s eyes caught a spark. Balls were one of the few things Wooyoung loved about being a prince. Dressing up for some fancy dancing and food was just fantastic and always gave him a reason to buy a new dress. “Yes! I promise I won’t leave your side!”

Should he really say it? It was way out of his place, especially after San had declined his hand in marriage and… hadn’t he promised himself to not let his heart lead the way? On the other hand, he had decided with Yunho to try to win over the young prince’s heart, so asking wouldn’t hurt, right?

The hesitation made Wooyoung shift his weight, “What’s wrong, Sannie?”

Now or never.

San took a deep intake, “Would you have also said that if there was no danger at door’s frame?” The warrior had his eyes closed, not daring to see the reaction of the prince, but when the answer stayed out, he slowly opened them.

San had expected much, but definitely not the cheeks resembling overgrown rose petals. “I-“, Wooyoung stammered and it left San breathless. It was right then when San noticed how tiny Wooyoung looked in his shirt. “I- yes.”

The clear answer made San blink furiously. What did he say? He wanted to ask for understanding; just to be sure, but Wooyoung turned on his heel, rushing down the hallway.

“See you, San. I need to go to my bath!”

Leaving me flustered like that…

San pressed a hand on his chest, feeling his heart try to escape his ribcage as he stumbled a few steps back until he hit the wall behind. His head fell back, leaning against the ornaments on the decorated wall, breathing as he counted the arch’s rips.

Some things never changed.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

It was a picture of a dream. More like a fairytale. Wooyoung pushed back his long hair. It always bothered him how it fell into his eyes while he was playing. Blossoms of almonds got tangled up in his long dark strands and he hissed as he tried to get them out with his hands clad in soft white satin gloves. The branches of the trees rustled in the light wind – the little boy had not even realised that he had gotten company. His vision was dipped in white, pinks and green as spring did its best to mangle with the cold. The long white fabric of his shirt swayed and made it fly like the wisps of a ghost in the morning’s dew. The almond blossoms were coating the ground like fresh snow in the early days of November and yet Wooyoung was happy to not freeze anymore. Spring had always fallen early into this kingdom called Azalea and he had loved the warming sun on his skin since the minute he had been born.

Boots left scrunching noises as they crossed the sea of almond petals. Dark hair flashed through the trunks of old trees snowing their flowers onto the path. Wooyoung hadn’t heard him coming, his head somewhere else – somewhere with all those flowers and nature’s gifts.

Soft hands touched his, making the seven-year-old boy turn around with a scared gasp and wide fearful eyes.

For a second, his breath halted. He didn’t know the boy who was standing before him and it pushed a stake of worry through his body, freezing it up. The newly arrived boy saw the fear shake in his wide – yet so beautiful - grey eyes.

He pulled back his hands, bowing fast as he rambled an apology. “My apologies, my prince.”

Wooyoung blinked at the black-haired boy. He looked so soft, so fitting for this world of a fairytale that their royal garden had always been.

“I’ve never seen you around. I don’t know if I should call for the guards.”

That made the expression of the little boy drop, “I am no threat!! I saw you struggle with the flowers in your hair and wanted to help.”

“Oh”, the boy replied dumbfoundedly before reaching for his long hair where almonds had nested in. The little prince blushed, “I may still need your help, if you don’t mind?”

The boy giggled, “Not at all. You have such lovely hair!”

Wooyoung blushed harder at that as all he got to hear from his grandparents about his hair was that his haircut was long overdue. “It’s too long. It gets stuck wherever I go and restrains my movement. It limits my freedom.”

The hands caressing through Wooyoung’s hair came to a halt and it made the little prince look over his shoulder to the other young boy.

His face sat in a little frown as he looked at the strands laying between his fingers.

“I believe it’s exactly the opposite.”

Wooyoung watched the boy straighten from his crouched position, the blossoms of almond balancing on the palms of his hand. With a little blow, he sent them on their way, joining their friends in the air.

“Isn’t it like the almond blossoms falling from the trees?”, the boy looked to the prince, “The wind caressing through your long hair – doesn’t it make you feel free?”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened at his words and both boys kept staring at each other for some minutes. None of them eager to break the contact.

“And on top of that all, my prince”, the strange boy said, giving Wooyoung a sudden smile full of sunshine and dimples, “I believe you look rather beautiful with it.”

Perhaps Wooyoung stopped thinking about his hair as bothersome. Maybe it was as lovely as the boy that almond’s blossoms had brought into his life at the age of seven. Maybe San had brought him exactly what he had needed.

A white petal landed on the tip of his nose, tickling him awake from the memories years ago. Wooyoung caught himself standing in the middle of the royal gardens, looking up at the sky between branches of almonds as he swallowed down the tears that had started to brickle at his eyes. The tree in front of him read ‘W’ and ‘S’, a carving from the day they were separated. They had decided to leave something ever-growing behind. Something that would revive every spring from anew. He pushed the long and wide sleeves of his peach-coloured blouse over his eyes, leaving them there for a second while he took a deep breath before he was alright again.

If it hadn’t been for the petal, it must have been the uncommon rustling of paper in his vicinity that broke him out of his daydream. After the discussion about the incident, Wooyoung had resigned to his bath, spending hours in bliss and without the dark cloud of worries glooming over his head, until he decided to get some fresh air and peace of mind.

For a second, the worries of his family flashed his consciousness. Maybe he should call for the guards – but Wooyoung had never been someone to give into paranoia. His curiosity would be his death someday – at least that was what his grandma had told him before she drifted into a sleep of eternity and nothingness.

Wooyoung didn’t blink twice before he strode along the path, almond petals softening his steps and making his approach as inaudible as possible. There was a light airy ring in the air, some melody that made his steps feel lighter and heavier at the same time.

Flashes of black hair.

A gust of wind caressed through Wooyoung’s waves, making the prince hold the hair out of his face as he noticed his childhood best friend sitting in a lazy stance, back supported at the trunk of an almond tree. He had changed his clothes into something more comfortable – just a dark blue shirt with black wide trousers held by a black belt. His sword was laying in its scabbard next to him.

If he’s sleeping? Perhaps I should not disturb him…

The thoughts went by as fast as they had come. Wooyoung loved to be with San as much as he loved the early spring’s sunny days. Although the weather had been gloomy and cold, the sky had cleared up, making the remnants of ice melt.

There it was again…

Wooyoung halted as he squinted his eyes.

The rustling…

Just as Wooyoung had arrived at the opposite side of the trunk where San was sitting, he saw the letters scattered in the cold grass. One in San’s naked hands as he seemed to be reading. A lonely leaf of almond fell onto the paper, and it made the warrior run his fingers so carefully over the words, getting a hold of the flower before making it roll on the palm of his hand.

Wooyoung’s heart jumped up to his throat as San blowed it from his hand as softly as possible.

Just as Wooyoung wanted to make himself noticeable, San’s voice sounded.

“Oh, what you’ve done to my heart with those letters over the years”, he said into the lonely space, caressing over the words written in dark ink.

Wooyoung leaned further to read, poking his head by the side of the tree. He had written so much over the years, he couldn’t possibly remember everything, especially since he had always written whatever had come to his mind.

His handwriting had always been messy but with a heavy italic and easiness. His mother and teacher had always said that it was like Wooyoung’s hands were dancing over the paper with every sentence. And sometimes Wooyoung felt like he could hear a rhythm to the words he wrote.

Dear my Almond,

I’ve been faring well.

I hope you are still training well. It’s been a bit of time now. The time has already turned the leaves brown for yet another year. Sometimes I struggle to remember the way you looked, quite sure that the painting they made of us when we were younger is nothing compared to how we look standing face-to-face. If I’m quite honest… San… I miss you. The days get lonely, and I can’t put the pressure on Yeosang’s shoulders to be my friend. Not in the way you were. I hope my letter arrives well, as all the others always do.

I was expecting you at last year’s Snowdrop ball since it’s close to your village. I don’t know if you were there and I just didn’t see you, but I looked for you quite some time. Maybe next year, you can make it.

In Lov-

Wooyoung’s heart stuttered in his chest at the words he read. His eyes couldn’t move onto the rest of the words - the rest of the letter - as they were glued to particular dark spots on the paper. They looked kind of translucent in comparison to the flat yet already yellowing next to it.

It looked like the stains of…

Wooyoung swallowed as he ducked his head a bit, feeling odd at the way he pried.

Stains of tears.

The prince felt uncomfortable in the secrecy he held and turned slowly to leave San in his reading, when there was suddenly the delicate voice of his friend ringing once again.

“Don’t leave please.”

It made Wooyoung’s breath get stuck in his throat, and he turned to see, nearly jumping out of his skin as he crossed eyes with San who had turned in his direction.

He patted the space next to him with a soft smile, dimples forming.

The moment Wooyoung plopped down next to San in his peach blouse and the white trousers – the same he had worn when San had arrived the day before – San pushed all the letters back inside a black satin box.

“How did you know I was there?”, Wooyoung asked bewildered as he pulled up his legs to lay his chin on top while watching San put the lid on the box.

“I would love to impress you with my sixth sense of a warrior and try to get a compliment out of it. However, I was never raised a liar.” San reached to Wooyoung’s head, caressing the bun at his back. “To stealth your way to someone unnoticed, I advise to not wear the little bells anymore. As much as they are adorable, they give away your location.”

Wooyoung gasped as he clasped onto his hair.

He had not even realised…

San carefully placed the box of letters next to him on the other side where Wooyoung wasn’t sitting, placing the sword there too so Wooyoung could scoot a bit closer.

“You kept them all?”, Wooyoung asked, pretending to be as unbothered and nonchalant as ever while his heart was running.

A light chuckle accompanied San’s reply, “I did. Not a letter has gone by I didn’t treasure like a jeweller their gemstones. And I’m beyond all moons that you have sent them. I had missed you far too much over the years. It helped.”

Wooyoung hummed, ignoring the way his ears and cheeks started to burn at San’s charming words. His mind always wandered back to the little dark stains on the letter, thinking back about that time when he was turning 20 years old and started to attend balls more frequently. His parents had said something about him being old enough to join etiquette, but it was a mere decoy as they hoped Wooyoung would find himself a partner soon before they would need to arrange something. If Wooyoung was quite honest… he had never searched for anyone other than San at those events. Since he was the son of the strongest warrior family, he had always kind of hoped…that one of those nights, San would appear with his slim figure and his bright dimpled smile. That he would make Wooyoung laugh like he had been doing for multiple years.

Wooyoung let his eyes wander to the man sitting next to him, chest bulking underneath the slightly opened shirt, arms strong and hands defined as they reached for some of the almond petals on the ground. His jaw line had gotten so sharp and defined and Wooyoung blushed again at the way his stomach turned in excitement. San had matured so much. And still he was the same caring, soft, and cute Sannie that he had let walk out of his life years ago. Just a tad stronger. Just a tad more caring. Just a tad more beautiful. Just a tad…

A tad more…

Wooyoung hid his blushing cheeks in the cover of his knees.

“I’m glad you are here. I missed you”, Wooyoung mumbled into his cover, missing the firing colour he had conjured onto the warrior’s face.

“So did I.”

Without looking at San, Wooyoung threw himself back, leaning against the trunk of the tree with a dramatic sigh. He pretended to be more than unbothered, but his lips could lie as much as he wanted. He even could tell his own mind tales of untruth but his heart was beating differently. His heart always said the truth.

The white and pink of almonds coating his vision made Wooyoung listen to his heart in weakness, leaning his head onto San’s shoulder. The prince missed the way San halted his breath. Missed the way his fingers twitched towards his hair, towards his fingers to hold. They stayed limply at the side, as San decided to leave the beautiful moment as it was, feeling Wooyoung nuzzle against the skin of his neck.

“I’m tired”, he murmured, eyes closed and breaths evening out.

San nodded and did the same. Pretending to be asleep to have an excuse for the intimate moment that they both desired so much, yet none of them was brave enough to say.

The almond trees let the white petals and flowers rain on them. They rested peacefully in the fairytale landscape. In the dream that seemed to be coming true as both of the boys smiled contentedly.

Chapter Text

San pushed his hair back, watching it slowly fall into his eyes as he tilted his head slightly. “So, what’s on today’s schedule?”, he asked as he gritted his teeth, tightening his forearm’s leather armour.

His advisor gave him a look through the mirror, watching San adjust the long white sleeves of his shirt and closing the green waistcoat over it. A frown settled on his forehead as he pulled the last button, concentrating as it didn’t want to close.

Yunho looked through some papers spread on his lap. “You promised to spar with the princes.”

“That’s what I’m already dressing up for”, San pushed between gritted teeth, flinching as the button was flung into a far corner of the room. Both San and Yunho watched the button fly in silence, before San cleared his throat, running another hand through his dark hair. “Anything else?”

The sun shone through his window and San shielded his eyes to check that all the leather armour parts were where they should be. Forearms and shoulders were covered in hard leather, a patch of it clasped around his left chest. He knew that Seonghwa would never injure him, but he was so used to wear his training clothes – always getting him immediately in the mood.

“Some salesmen are coming to visit the queen later this afternoon. Wooyoung is attending…”, Yunho let the words trail off and San understood that it was his decision if he wanted to join or not.

San sighed as he reached for his sword, putting it onto his belt. “If Wooyoung wants to fight, I’ll lose my mind.”

“Scared of losing?”, Yunho grinned devilishly, only earning the most dangerous eyes back. Yunho laughed and raised his hands in defence. “Let’s be on our way then?”

San sighed again.

The yard contained a clay field, the high stone walls kept the world and sunlight outside as everything was veiled in early grey shadows. The night had been freezing once again and San watched the pearls of ice cling to the white roses at the edge of the stairs he descended. The guards at the side bowed to him deeply as he approached the crown prince training alone in the middle of the field. Midnight blue hugged his body, patterned with golden ornaments. Nothing of his skin was to be seen as the uniform reached from his neck to the forefront of his sleeves. The hilt of his sword was held by black gloves as he adjusted his grip, moving flowingly to the side. Seonghwa moved liked water – elegant and controlled, yet predictable. Seonghwa had always been the calm sea in contrary to Wooyoung’s stormy stream.

“Already warming up?”, San asked as he entered the clay field. Like a hawk finding its prey, Seonghwa’s eyes landed on San.

“I feel the most energetic after the immediate rise of the sun”, Seonghwa said, pearls of sweat dripping from his chin as he straightened up to look over his shoulder, squinting his eyes towards the low sun.

San nodded towards Yunho, who sat down at a bench at the side, opening a book to read, before he joined the crown prince in his warm-up. “Some things never change then.”

Seonghwa grinned, pushing his blade into the clay grounds before folding his arms, “I am as punctual as Wooyoung is late.”

Although San snorted at the comment, his head laid in shambles. So, he really was coming.

Wooyoung had never been talentless in fighting, but San was just trained differently in his town. He had struggled and won through tournament after tournament. He knew that this was just sparring – supposed to be training, but a fight was a fight. San never took violence lightly.

“Are you making myself look bad in front of San, brother?”

San froze up at the voice. Cursed be the effect that boy had on him. If it wasn’t enough that his heart was already beating for him – how should he ever make him fall in love with him when he stunned the warrior every day a little more? And so Wooyoung also did today. San gaped at the sight unfolding as Wooyoung descended the stairs elegantly – Yeosang by his side.

By goddess grace-

Every time San’s eyes found the prince, he was enchanted anew.

The times where his father had packed him in the ugliest, yet most protective clothes for sparring were over and San’s throat dried up at the sight.

Wooyoung strode confidently towards them, entering the clay with legs laced up in high white boots. The white shirt hung low on his body, tucked into his dark pants and fixed with a belt. His hair was laying in his oh so casual waves, framing his cheeks while he twirled his sword in his right hand.

“I’d never dare to”, Seonghwa remarked with a smile, making Wooyoung smile back.

“Good morning, Sannie”, Wooyoung greeted while showing his teeth.

“I hope you’ve slept well”, the warrior replied, with a polite little bow and it made Wooyoung giggle.

The prince nodded before putting his sword onto the ground, he pulled his arms upwards to stretch, his head cracked the moment he tossed it from one side to the other. “Do I go first?”

“If you don’t mind, I would have asked San for a sparring before that”, Seonghwa voiced, pulling his sword out of the clay. Wooyoung pulled his lips into an annoyed line but left it at that. Without words, he left to go back to Yeosang, who threw him a questioning stare.

“I hope that is alright with you. I don’t want to steal away precious time you can spend with my brother.”

San felt the blood rush to his cheeks, “T-that’s not-“ His words got lost somewhere on the way and sometimes San cursed Seonghwa for being so polite and letting San end his sentence when there was no end.

The crown prince dipped his head and waited but when it was clear that San was done, he chuckled slightly. “As I lay my brother’s life in your hands… I wish to see your skill with my own eyes and body.” Seonghwa lifted his blade, pointing towards San. “Therefore, I won’t hold back.”

San lowered his shoulders, getting into fighting stance as he too raised his sword. “Neither will I.”

The first attack came as a surprise. San had just answered as Seonghwa already pulled forward. His steps were fast and yet it was like San had already seen it when he entered the place to his solo training. Seonghwa fought like flowing water. There was no surprise as his technique was rather seamless. The crown prince bolted at him. Sword held with both hands as Seonghwa would never risk losing hold on the hilt. As one of the first things told in the basics of sword-fighting it was that – to never lose your sword. Seonghwa would keep a grip onto the hilt until his grave.

However, Seonghwa’s perfect school trained fighting behaviour was, to his dismay, an advantage for San. If he would not let the sword go, San would use that information against him.

Instead of dodging the attack, San did merely a sidestep, hitting his own blade with as much power as possible down on Seonghwa’s who started to founder. The opportunity didn’t go unnoticed by San, who planted a low kick against his chest, making the crown prince tumble back. He held his chest with surprise as he gasped for air. San knew where he needs to aim to make the most out of it. Although he purposely didn’t put too much strength into it. Seonghwa wasn’t his enemy after all. He would never put his everything into a duel against a friend.

Seonghwa didn’t need a lot of time to recover though, dashing into another attack but San held it off fairly easily. Seonghwa gritted his teeth as his attacks seemed worthless against San. He had tried to find openings and land a hit, but San was like a spotless wall, breaking through Seonghwa’s defence seamlessly whenever he saw the chance to.

The crown prince wasn’t a bad swordsman. If San was quite honest, he was better than most of the people he’d been up against in his hometown. However, …

Seonghwa’s chest rose and fell quickly, breaths turning into pants as he wiped the sweat off his forehead. His hands lowered more and more with every attack and San saw the tiredness creeping up his body. To end the fight, San reached for the crown prince’s hand, the sudden movement made him flinch away, throwing himself to the ground to dodge San’s hands.

San pushed his blade into the clay in front of Seonghwa as said man tried to roll his way out of San’s vicinity. Of course, that wouldn’t stop the crown prince as he hit his right hand with the sword blindly towards San, who started to crouch. If Seonghwa would have looked where he was aiming or perhaps had put more strength into the hit, it might have been successful. But a hit like that was not even an attack for San.

“Agh”, Seonghwa cried out when San merely hit a certain spot on Seonghwa’s approaching hand, making the prince drop his sword with clangour. Before his fingers could even reach for the weapon again, eyes in panic at the moment of loss, San pulled his arms in a tight lock, pressing his knees in the prince’s back.

There was just the chirping of birds and the rustling of trees. Everything had quieted down in the picture of San throning over Seonghwa, the hero of the latest war. Just as the winner was announced wordlessly, San loosened his grip, standing up and offering a hand to the prince with a polite bow.

Seonghwa took his hand with a bitter chuckle. “It’s been a long time that I got humiliated like that in a fight.”

“By all respects, my prince”, San murmured, lifting his head to catch his eyes, “You’ve been the hardest opponent in a while.”

The innocence in San’s voice made Seonghwa sputter on his own spit.

The crown prince left it at that, complementing San for his skills. “I admit your strength. It’s forsooth fantastic. You’ve exceeded my expectations. You… have grown so much, San. It’s been a pleasure meeting you again at such a fine condition.”

The rose colour was back on San’s cheeks against his will when Seonghwa’s words turned so informal and familial all of a sudden.

Soon, an evil smile painted the crown prince’s lips though, “Nonetheless, I think the hardest sparring duel is yet for you to come.”

San closed his eyes with a sigh.

Was there really no way out? Fighting against Wooyoung – even in the light of a sparring match – hurt so much. Wooyoung meant a lot to San. There was no way he could… he just couldn’t…

However, San’s thought came to a sudden halt as he heard the whistling sound of a blade tearing through the air. San pushed the crown prince back, while jumping to the side, looking at a sword’s blade disappearing between him and the prince into the clay.

San’s body had already tensed in danger’s face but slumped as he saw the attacker.

“By heaven…”, he cursed, rolling his eyes at Wooyoung who tried to pull out the sword from the clay.

“Oh, damnit!”, Wooyoung hissed as he tore at the hilt, but the sword didn’t move. It seemed to be quite stuck and Wooyoung made cute noises trying to free it but without much success. He pouted at his weapon before he looked up to San, eyes swimming with sparkles. “San, pull out my sword, so we can have our sparring duel. Pleeeease ~ “

By everything that San held dear…

How could he ever say ‘No’…

No pleads or begging seemed to take any effect on Wooyoung, since he not only insisted on the sparring match but also to use their own, real swords.

San swallowed at the light outfit the prince wore. Whether Wooyoung just dressed whatever or if he was so confident to not get hurt was beyond him – but even for a training fight one shouldn’t dress like that. Just the thought of accidently putting as much as a scratch onto Wooyoung’s fair skin made San pale.

 “Scared of me?”, Wooyoung said with a scornful expression.

More like scared for your safety.

“Oh, this is going to be amusing”, Yeosang said and made Yunho chuckle.

San sighed desperately, “Wooyoung, I really don’t want to fight you.”

It made Wooyoung snort, “It’s not fighting. Come on, San. It’s only a sparring duel. Swords against swords. We had them often when we were younger.”

San gulped and nodded stiffly.

Wooyoung was right. Of course, he was right. However, that did not change the fact that San was more than against it.

As much as San remembered, Wooyoung’s fighting had been opposite to Seonghwa’s flowing waves. It was sloppy. Certainly, the prince could fend off an opponent for a while, but it was still far from a safe technique.

Wooyoung shouted for the duel to start, a grin plastering his lips. San tried his best to not move his sword too much. He blocked the attacks coming his way but did not really make an effort to do one himself.

“You don’t even fight back”, Wooyoung pouted after a while, lowering his sword.

San felt stressed out, “I don’t wish to fight you, my prince.”

Wooyoung gritted his teeth as he kicked his foot against San’s shin. The action made San’s breath stutter as he lowered his sword. The prince used the opportunity to place the tip of his sword onto San’s chest.

“Won”, Wooyoung grumbled, retreating his sword, “You weren’t fighting.”

The prince looked upset at San’s behaviour, but San really couldn’t.

“Please understand…”, San begged in a whining voice, putting the weapon finally away. “Pointing you at a blade’s end is the last thing I wanna do.”

Wooyoung turned away grumpily and with folded arms, “We did so all the time when we were kids though.”

Oh, by all heavens… That was before I loved you! Things were just different back then. San and Wooyoung were so young, just children. In contrast to the training at home, everything San learned here were just basics.

Since San wasn’t answering, Wooyoung pressed further. “You are from the Choi family. Your fighting capability must be insane. I trust you not to hurt me – even by accident.”

A shiver ran down San’s back. “I’m certain, I’m capable of that. However, I never… in my life… want to hurt you. Not even in the slightest. It’s just… just the thought - the possibility – makes my mind freeze. I cannot risk your safety. I apologise for talking back and rejecting your wish, my prince, but at the end of the day you are far too important to me to put your safety on the stacks.” San bowed deeply, pressing his eyes together while hoping that Wooyoung would let it go.

“It’s Wooyoung…”, a low murmur sounded before San dared to lift his head. There was a faint blush on Wooyoung’s cheeks but other than that he looked… beaten. “I don’t wanna spar anymore”, he said in a sulking matter, retreating from the clay field with his sword drawing a line in the dirt as he trotted away.

Another sigh escaped the warrior and he felt like this sparring duel had cost him five years of his life. He massaged his temples, watching Wooyoung retreat with a hunched form. San couldn’t stand seeing the prince this upset and – on top of that – be the reason for it. He would make up for it later in the afternoon.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The light had dimmed over the noon, golden ornaments of the mirror’s legs sparkling only slightly in what light was left from the clouded sky. San adjusted the bow around his neck, before throwing a black coat over his shoulders. He reached back for his short black gloves but was met halfway by his advisor Yunho, holding them out for him to take. “Thank you.”

“You look tired, my Lord”, Yunho frowned, and San gave him a small smile.

“Do I? Must be the illusion of the dampened daylight.”

Yunho squinted his eyes but left it at that, “Your mission to win the prince’s heart over is not playing out well, given that I saw the teary gaze of the prince when he left the training field.”

Ouch. The words were harsh on San’s heart. He wanted to impress Wooyoung with his fighting skill and not make the prince feel worthless in his company. However, San couldn’t bring his head around that he had done exactly that.

“It’s harder than expected.”

“Just think less. Your head is in your heart’s way.”

San sighed, pulling on the gloves with a distraught expression. As soon as they were settled, he caressed the fold between his eyebrows until it flattened out. The stress and worry over Wooyoung would bring him early wrinkles.

“Easier said than done.” Yunho already wanted to talk back, when San appeased him with a sudden smile, gesturing him to stop. “I already thought about something to make it up to Wooyoung later when I see him.”

“That being said”, Yunho voiced, eyeing San’s appearance, before he checked his pocket watch. “Aren’t you quite early for the meeting with the salesmen?”

San chuckled, “That – indeed – I am. I’m about to visit the office first. My mother awaits a letter, and she has never been patient.”

It wasn’t a pleasant task to inform his parents about his cancelled wedding. Especially his mother - who knew about San’s feelings - would be shocked. San could try to explain everything he felt in the letter – however, who knew who would first get the letter in their hands.

His footsteps echoed in the empty halls, only some guards stood at closed doors, nodding his way when he passed them. San hoped that his intuition didn’t lead him astray as he wasn’t exactly sure where the office had been.

His instincts didn’t fail him though, as he knocked at the door in politeness before entering a stuffy, yet charming little office. San smiled. “Home, sweet home.”

There was nothing but two tiny desks next to each other. The sunlight fell in an old yellow through the curtains and San coughed as the dust flared up through the movement of him pushing them open. The ghost of words whispered through the empty space and San smiled eerily at the memory of two young boys studying in the room together, ending up in a giggling fit as they fought on the floor about who was the smarter of the two. If San concentrated well, he still could hear their laughter resonate through the little room.

The screeching of the chair had stayed the same as San adjusted into it, rolling out his paper and reaching for one of the quills resting in a tube of ink at the far side. He expected the ink to be dried and to go off to find him a new one but widened his eyes as he saw the liquid sweep in the glass happily. Did someone come here often? To still write in their old office from time to time? Immediately San thought about Wooyoung but shook his head quickly. No, that couldn’t be. Wooyoung could write in the royal office. He could write wherever his heart desired. Why would he… write in the room they studied together?

San sighed as the thoughts circulated. It seemed these days that whenever he thought about Wooyoung, everything got so tangled up. When he had been back in his hometown, things had been so clear. He knew that as soon as he would see Wooyoung again, that he would treat him with the utmost respect, with the love that he had always harboured for him – maybe making the boy fall in love with him one day. However, reality looked different, and San struggled to let himself not just give into his desires. He wanted to marry Wooyoung. He had so all his life. And yet, here he was… sitting in their old office and writing his mother a letter where he announced the decline.

His jaw tensed, his hands into fist.

‘Tack!’, it resonated through the empty room and made San look at the broken quill in wonder.

The sound got him out of his thoughts, guiding his fingers to his cheeks in surprise, feeling the wetness of tears stain his fingertips.

San still loved Wooyoung.

He had. He did. He would always do.

The letter to his mother took San a while. He already expected as much as he pushed his hands through his hair before looking at his finished work, ignoring the thrown away attempts all around.

San read through the words again and then looked at the little letter next to the official one. It was a broad explanation of his feelings and actions and was only addressed at his mother. San rolled it up, putting a golden string around it. Again, he only wrote the name of his mother onto the roll and decided that it would be good like that. He put the roll onto the official letter, rolling it around his mother’s private one, before sealing it with a thick black wrapping.

Exhausted, San let his head fall back as he leaned into the comfortable chair. He opened the button on top of his shirt, groaning as it had gotten so warm in this little room while thinking what to write. His jacket had been neglected a while back, laying flatly on the other desk.

The garnet hinges jarred, making San just roll his eyes to the side to see who had the audacity not to knock. His face was promptly flushed as he locked eyes with a rather flustered Wooyoung too.

“Oh”, the boy, who had also already changed into a new fit, the white waistcoat laying over a shirt similar to San’s, voiced. “I didn’t know you were here.”

What? He didn’t-?!

San’s blush spread further on his neck and ears as he turned his gaze back onto the wrapped letter.

That meant that… that Wooyoung came here more often? San’s eyes flashed to the ink jar. Was he the one writing here? But… but why?

The scrunching of paper made San look back to the prince, who just straightened as he picked up one of the failed letters San had discarded.

Never in his life had his heart plummeted that deep.

“No, don’t!”, San exclaimed, rushing to Wooyoung, who held the letter up with an amused glint in his eyes.

Smug smile pulling on his lips, “Oh, is that so?”

San tried to get the paper, but Wooyoung turned, shoving his back into San as he started to read out loud. “Dear mother-“

“Wooyoung!”, San hissed as he tried to reach around Wooyoung but gave up and just wrapped his arms around him.

“Have you been well? My sojourn at the royal palace will last a while now, not due to the marriage though. I’ve been explaining the details in the following, just know that I am happy where I am. It feels like fate has dragged my soul back to this very place. Giving me another chance to spend my time with the most precious- Hey!”, Wooyoung cried out as San retorted to tickling to make the younger squirm in his hold. “That’s unfair. San!”, he laughed, “SAN!”

San finally got the letter out of his hands, ripping it to shreds right in front of Wooyoung’s eyes, so neither he nor anyone could ever read it again.

The moment Wooyoung had calmed down he threw him a smug smile. “That embarrassing?”

Sweat clung to Sans forehead, “You have no idea.”

Wooyoung’s eyes fell behind San, seeing all the failed attempts of his writing. He frowned slightly. Was it that hard to write to his mother? Wooyoung knew San’s mother and she was lovely. It must have meant something that a soft boy like San struggled to find the right words for his caring mother.

San followed Wooyoung’s stare, tensing up as he saw the other letters, but Wooyoung just waved him off, “I won’t read them. Don’t worry. I’ll write in another room.”

The warrior nodded and went back to retrieve his finished letter.

“Are you going to be at the meeting with the salesmen later?”

San smiled, “Yes. I plan to accompany you and your mother.”

“Awesome!”, Wooyoung’s eyes sparkled. “Then meet you there?”

The boy stood in the still opened door, back already facing to San who just was picking up his failed letters to make sure they would get burnt.

“I’ll be punctual.”

Wooyoung gave him a crescent smile, before leaving and closing the door. San only realised by now how the sun had disappeared behind thick clouds. The days in February were still so short and San already yearned for the summer evenings he could spend with Wooyoung until late night, dancing in the sunset.

San halted at his thoughts, coughing awkwardly into the silence.

Not that he had been daydreaming about that for a couple of hours. No. Of course not.

The tower of the carrier pigeons was way on the other side of the palace and San did not remember the staircase to be so long. After felt hours of nothing but spiral stairs he caught sight of a massive door of granite and stone. Up here no guards were stationed, probably a choice they made themselves as San chuckled at the cooing of the birds he already heard through the closed doors. It would make a man insane listening to them for too long.

San knocked onto the granite, flinching as the knock got thrown back with a solid echo, brutally pulling at his ears. He wasn’t sure if someone was here as he let his eyes trail upwards, counting the pictures carved into the stone at the door. It was probably around three to four metres high, and it made San stare in awe. Once again, the royal palace made him feel so small and trivial.

His eyes jumped back down as the door set in motion, opening inwards slowly and with a loud grumble. The cooing disappeared for a second as a dark room laid open for the warrior.

“Come in”, a voice sounded, the echo making it ring from wall to wall. San could not pinpoint from where it was coming. He didn’t waste any time though to enter, watching cautiously as the big doors closed behind him. The bright light of the corridors was a stark contrast to the dim candles lit at the walls here. There were multiple windows at one of the walls, the carrier pigeon station.

“The birds don’t like visitors too much, excuse their quiet stares.”

San turned around looking for the voice. An old man walked towards San, weight supported on a twisted cane. A white and a grey pigeon were situated on his shoulders, inspecting San with steep heads. There was very quiet cooing and San craned his neck up where all the pigeons nested in the recesses of the high tower.

“I haven’t been here for so long.”

“Indeed, you haven’t, my Lord”, the man said with a deep polite bow. “I did not even know of your visit nor arrival. But… it’s not like I am leaving this tower often to fare with the royal affairs down the spiral staircase.”

San gave him a little smile. The keeper of the pigeon tower had always been slightly weird but nonetheless, loveable. He had won a few wrinkles more and the cane was definitely new but… oh well… age wasn’t making exceptions.

“What is it that you require – or better said – which of our lovely friends?”

At those words a wild cooing appeared, making San chuckle. The birds seemed to understand the man quite well.

San smiled benignly, “An old friend.” As if the bird had heard San, a brown pigeon chirped as it flew in one swoop down to San. It flapped excitedly in front of San’s face, before the warrior held his arm out for the bird to take a seat. It turned his head left and right, high and low as it watched San with interest, picking at his hair a bit.

“I see”, the keeper said, “A letter to the Choi family.”

The pigeon on San’s hand purred as San rubbed a finger in his soft feathers at his neck. “How do you know?” The question seemed a bit redundant as San realised that as the keeper of the tower, he – of course – would know which pigeons were flying to which destinations.

“That is Prince Wooyoung’s pigeon, my Lord.”

San froze in his petting.

“Wooyoung’s-?”

“He trained that bird for so long. Neglecting his homework to make it follow his wishes.”

The brown pigeon leaned happily in San’s touch, cooing contently. He had seen this pigeon so often, brightening up the darkest of his day. He had always thought that it was just some random pigeon – maybe trained to know San’s hometown – but it was Wooyoung’s personal pigeon?

“And what were his wishes?”, San asked, now a bit curious at the keeper’s cryptic words.

Instead of answering, the man just lifted his finger at him, making San’s breath stuck in his throat. There was no answer needed as San understood.

San put the roll of his letter into the little belt attached to the pigeon’s body, before giving it some last head scratches. “You will still find my hometown, right?”

The pigeon chirped and flattered with its wings, feathers raining to the floor. San chuckled and carried the bird to one of the windows. With a push of his arm, the bird set off, flapping his wings bravely as it left for the wide lands. It would pass the lake, reach the mountains separating them, and see the fields of growing wheats.

San smiled.

Such a long way. “And still you always found back to me.”

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Wooyoung had his arms folded over his white fluffy waist coat. The bath hadn’t helped much that he was freezing since the sparring duel. He leaned against one of the marble pilasters leading all the way and flowing into the ceiling. His mother had asked him to be here when the salesmen arrived, since she always loved to get a second opinion on the jewellery, fabrics, and dresses she looked at. Sometimes Wooyoung felt like she wanted Yeosang’s opinion more than his own on this matter though.

Yeosang gave him a look with a raised eyebrow. With a ‘hmph’, the prince rushed out his white fan to cover his face. He didn’t really want to be here.

The doors were opened by the guards, making Wooyoung stop the fanning as he watched San walk into the room with a beaming smile, dimples carving as he caught sight of Wooyoung. Yunho was not far behind but kept his distance to talk with the guards for a moment.

As punctual as promised.

Suddenly Wooyoung didn’t mind being here that much anymore.

“You’re a mess, my prince”, Yeosang commented on the light colour on his cheeks.

“Shush! You are not allowed to insult me.”

Since neither the queen nor the guards were there yet, San took a straight line towards Wooyoung. “Hi, Wooyoung. Oh, you have the fan again.”

Wooyoung didn’t want to admit it but San standing with his white, teethy smile in front of him, surrounded by the little light falling through the high windows – small patterns falling on his skin due to the ornaments – San looked handsome. His hands were in short black gloves and Wooyoung’s fingers twitched at the thought how it would feel to hold them.

Since Wooyoung stayed quiet, way too lost in his thoughts, Yeosang replied, “The Prince likes the fan for a measurement of hiding.”

San’s expression grew shocked. “Hiding?”

He stepped closer with a frown of concern, fingers curling at the edge of the fan to pull it down. Wooyoung looked at San bewildered, cheeks now deep red as were San’s as he realised how close they were now that the fan wasn’t between their faces anymore.

Swiftly, San put up the fan again, looking away as he fanned a cough. “L-let’s take a seating?” He gestured to the round table with the chairs that were unoccupied so far. The chairs were cushioned with turquoise velvet, the same colour as the floral pattern on the table’s surface.

Wooyoung took a seat as close to the window as possible since he was still a bit cold and the burning candles at the walls emitted some warmth. Yeosang stood at the wall behind, leaving his prince and his friend a bit more space. San looked a bit unsure where to sit, fumbling with his fingers before he took a seat right next to Wooyoung.

Wooyoung swallowed nervously. They sat in silence for a bit. Wooyoung was playing with his fan while San just stared at the table.

“Wooyoung, I-“, San started turning his whole body towards the boy, who immediately looked to San, just having waited for him to engage. However, the second he did, the doors opened again for the queen, his brother, and the salesmen to enter.

What timing.

His mother hadn’t told him what the salesman exactly had to show her this time, but since Yeosang was at her side the moment some fabrics were unrolled at the giant table, Wooyoung felt quite redundant. Two of the salesmen were in a heated discussion with his brother, trying to answer his questions and criticism as kindly as possible in hopes to sell something. Yunho and San were also looking at some of the goods, talking to each other in hushed voices.

Wooyoung sighed as he just stood there, not really knowing where to go. He didn’t want to interrupt San’s and Yunho’s conversation but standing like decoration next to his mother and Yeosang was also unsatisfying.

His sigh didn’t go unnoticed by the third salesperson, who kept eyeing the younger prince since they had arrived. A shiver went down his spine. Look somewhere else! Look away! His mind screamed at the guy but for the peace of the meeting, Wooyoung kept the words in his mind and busied himself with looking at his fingernails or fan.

“A frown doesn’t suit a good-looking man like you, my prince.”

Wooyoung flinched slightly at the sudden way the man had approached him. He towered a whole head over him and Wooyoung felt everything but comfortable looking up to him.

“I have the finest of jewels to help make you feel better.”

Wooyoung froze up as the man put a hand around his shoulder to guide him to the necklaces laying on one of the tables, a bit closer to San and Yunho.

If Wooyoung were to say he wasn’t interested – would that be too impolite? It was always the queen who had a favour in bringing salespeople inside the palace but Wooyoung? Wooyoung felt widely uncomfortable.

“Do you prefer gold or silver?”

Wooyoung shook his head, finally gathering the courage. “I don’t wear jewellery. It makes my skin crawl. But the pieces are beautiful”, Wooyoung hurried out the last words as he felt his whole body wash in hot water as the man’s face fell.

Interrupting San’s and Yunho’s conversation or find cover behind Seonghwa didn’t sound like a bad idea anymore as the man kept looking at Wooyoung.

“If you excuse me-“

Just as Wooyoung turned around, the man slid in front of him with a necklace in his hands. “My Prince, at least give it some thought. Here.” Wooyoung flinched hard as the man took a step behind Wooyoung, putting the necklace around his neck. The way his arms brushed against Wooyoung’s shoulders made tears shoot to his eyes. Couldn’t he just leave him alone?

The necklace felt short and restricting. The cold metal piercing in his neck although it was laid completely loosely around his neck.

“I really don’t like it”, Wooyoung whimpered now as he straight up despised the feeling. Not only that. The man’s lingering fingers on his collarbones made Wooyoung panic, breaths coming out shorter and shorter.

“Don’t touch him.”

Wooyoung opened his eyes as he heard a voice growl loudly. He had not even realised that he had closed them. Everyone was looking at San, who pulled the man oh the hem of his jacket from behind Wooyoung’s back.

The man paled face-to-face with San, swallowing hard as he tried to search for words.

“If you want to keep your fingers, I’d advice to not let them wander so far”, San growled deeply, hands starting to shake.

The room was quiet as the man started to ramble apologies, but it seemed to just put off San even more. Wooyoung fumbled with the necklace, trying to open it and get rid of the awful feeling while Seonghwa approached the commotion with a fake smile.

“San, let go of him.”

“He touched Wooyoung!!”, San exclaimed and as if saying it out loud aggregated him more, he pulled the man, who looked already close to crying due to San’s scary demeanour, closer.

Seonghwa’s eyebrow twitched at that, making San loosen his grip. “Yes. And therefore, I’ll see him out.” Seonghwa’s smiled dropped, “And talk outside.”

“N-n-no”, the salesperson stuttered, but Seonghwa just waved for the guards and excused himself before leaving.

San watched them leave but hurried to Wooyoung’s side who still desperately tried to open the necklace. It seemed to really bother the prince as he had started to scratch the back of his neck at the attempt. The moment San realised that he was hurting himself though, he caught Wooyoung’s wrist and pulled them away.

“Wooyoung, stop.”

“I want it gone!”, Wooyoung whimpered, and it made San act quickly, unclipping the gold from his neck.

“It’s gone. It’s gone”, San soothed, just letting the necklace slip to the floor not caring for it’s worth as he needed his hands to reciprocate the hug that Wooyoung initiated almost immediately.

“I’m sorry for wasting your time but I’d like you to leave”, the queen said with a forced smile to the remaining salespeople, similarly to Seonghwa.

The two other salesmen started to panic, “We apologise for our colleagues’ behaviour. It is of course unacceptable to invade the prince’s private like that and we-“

“It’s indeed highly unacceptable. Therefore, you leave. Now!”

The men didn’t dare to speak back as the rest of the guards, patrolling the meeting, drew their swords in a silent threat.

“We’ll be going!”

San held Wooyoung close as the salesmen hurried around to collect their goods before running out like maniacs.

“I want their heads”, San growled, tightening his arms around Wooyoung’s fluffy waistcoat.

“I’m afraid beheading is out of fashion, my Lord”, Yunho commented but answered San’s dark glance only with a shrug.

“Are you alright, Wooyoung? He didn’t hurt you, right?”, San said, pushing Wooyoung at arm’s length to inspect the damage taken. A relieved sigh fell from his lips as Wooyoung’s teary eyes had vanished and he looked quite normal again. Shaken and a bit scared from the situation but normal.

“I’m fine. Just… I…”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t intervene faster.”

“It’s my fault that he even came that close, I-“

San smiled, “There’s no need to apologise. You did nothing wrong.”

“I guess so.”

Before San could further ask him questions about his well-being, Wooyoung crushed him in a hug again, mumbling in his chest. “I just really, really… hate jewellery.”

Chapter Text

The night had dawned already. In the midnight blue of the evening, the white of the snow still laying on some rooftops stood out like the shine of the lanterns at the partially lightened castle in front of them. The heads of people could be seen in the high windows of the palace. A shimmer of gold and silver was shining through, crystalised sparks of rainbows breaking in the iced ground before them – reflections of the grand chandeliers hanging in the halls.

The faint sound of violins and cellos sounded all the way. There was an underlying melody of flutes and trumpets. Goosebumps spread all over his body as Mingi chauffeured their carriage into the yard in front.

“Nervous?”, Yunho asked, who was sitting with San in the little carriage. They had to take a different one then the royal family due to misunderstandings that could arise. It was a shame; San was excited to see Wooyoung.

“He must look stunning”, San breathed as he pushed the curtains of the window to the side to watch all kinds of people leave their carriages in gowns and suits. Jewellery was hanging from them in a display of power and wealth.

“And of course, he’s all you’re thinking about.” San didn’t need to look; he could hear the roll of his advisor’s eyes. The music made San’s heart beat higher in excitement. He couldn’t wait to get outside.

The moment Mingi brought the horses to a stand, Yunho opened the door, straightening his simple, dark blue suit before making place for San to leave. Due to the high protected walls of the yard and the building there was nearly no wind, however they had ridden a long way up here – somewhere between the hills next to San’s hometown and the Nothernlands where Hongjoong’s family was from.

“Welcome to Marigold”, Yunho smiled as he gestured to the palace opening in front of them. San gaped at the high towers, the arches seeming to reach to the sky, stairs shimmering in white marble and a black carpet rolled out in the middle. Guards in shimmering silver armour were patrolling while servants in grey yet good-looking costumes greeted the guests, advisors welcoming everyone on their own, making sure a servant escorted them safely to the palace without getting lost.

Although the castle, architecture, and people didn’t look far from Azalea - the middle part of the kingdom called the same name - the missing presence of flora and fauna like the blooming almonds in their gardens was widely noticeable. Yet it had a charm neither his hometown nor Azalea could convey. It looked magical.

“Stunning”, San breathed, getting distracted by the little clouds forming in front of his voice as he puffed out the word.

Yunho walked closer, adjusting San’s white collar, making sure the pinned-on necklaces in rose gold were hanging in perfect symmetry, dangling white quartz adorning the little golden pearls. A round stone of onyx was held by a silver attachment. A stone San had chosen himself years back when his grandmother wanted to buy him more clothes for social events like this. It had always reminded San of Wooyoung’s eyes.

There was no official dress code given, however – San had decided for something fitting as the event was called Snowdrop ball. White ruching came forth from his collar, hugging his neck and the ends of his sleeves. His short gloves had the same colour as his jacket and his coat. Little jewellery and pins of the same flowery gold sat on his jacket in decorations. It reached down all the way to his ankles and was currently only draped over his shoulders since he would hand it to the cloakroom as soon as they entered.

San ushered the worried hands of his advisor and friend away, “I’m not a child anymore, Yunho. My clothes are in perfect condition and so is my hair.” He added as Yunho looked up to the black strands being perfectly slicked back without a stray one of excuse.

“It’s still your first ball after a decade, my Lord.”

San dipped his head slightly, “That may be true and yet, I’m nothing but most excited for it. I haven’t been at a social event like this in a while.”

Yunho nodded and San saw the way his advisor bit away the words that laid on his tongue. Probably something along the lines of ‘Aren’t you worried? Worried that something will go wrong? After the incident at the royal palace…’

It would be a lie if the thought of something happening hadn’t plagued San’s mind the nights – no – the weeks before. However, Wooyoung’s excitement and happiness for the ball had been contagious, and San made sure to think as positively about it as possible and yet keep an aware eye around. At least the king and queen had assured that the hosting aristocrats’ family had strengthened their guarding.

The amount of silver clad men running around made San breathe a bit lighter. It felt safe at least.

“Wooyoung, please wear your coat-“

Immediately, San’s heart beat higher. His eyes wandered to the carriages to his right with whom the royal family had been chauffeured. The clear sky made the moon shine in a soft white onto the cobblestone, a little reflection as it enhanced everything white into a shining gleam. San had been making the right decision to go in all white it seemed. His mouth fell open. But so… apparently… did Wooyoung.

At first there was just a head looking out of the dark vehicle. Even from the side, the prince looked beautiful. His hair was in a messy up-do, strands falling in tiny curls around his face. A little crown sat on his head, like a ring around his shiny hair. San had been close enough to see how the moonlight enlightened his eyes, making them appear near transparent white as the moon shone ever so strongly.

And then San’s breath hitched. A seething hot feeling occurred in the pit of his stomach as it rose all the way to his cheeks. The coat and jacket suddenly felt way too hot as Wooyoung leaned outside the carriage, wide shimmering fabric already showing itself before Wooyoung stepped out with a little skip in his movement. In awe, he looked up to the castle like San had done mere seconds before. He looked so mesmerised by the sight, stunned by all the glory before him and yet San had forgotten the beauty of the castle as his eyes found Wooyoung.

His entirety of neck, shoulders collarbones laid open, his honey skin looking so pale in the unusual moonlight. In addition, the white of his gown seemed to be glowing in the mystical light, a long white flowing dress, décolleté only held around his chest with no straps as support. Puffy, big sleeves with oceans of quilling were hanging low just in the middle between his elbows and shoulders. There was no jewellery attached to the boy and yet even the slightest bit of silver glitter San dared to imagine on his eyelids when Wooyoung looked to the side to San, taking away his breath.

“Please breathe, my Lord”, Yunho snickered as he watched San tense up as Wooyoung strode towards them.

“How should I when the most heavenly person is on their way to me? How is someone expecting me to keep my senses?”

Mingi joined the bickering pair, “By all my respect, my Lord. You’re making a fool out of yourself.”

The beaming smile Wooyoung sent San’s way as he was halfway over made San grip the end of his jacket in front to ground himself in the moment and not descend into the sky to meet his dear grandparents.

“If it’s for him, I can be all the fool he wants me to be.”

“Whipped”, Yunho coughed, but San didn’t pay them any mind anymore as he decided to encounter Wooyoung halfway through.

People had gathered around the carriage, seemingly having noticed the arrival of the royal family and yet all San had eyes for was Wooyoung, who laid his hands – gloved in short white – into San’s offered ones.

“Wooyoung”, San said awestruck as he couldn’t look away from the mesmerising boy.

The prince lifted his shoulders as his eyes squinted into cute crescents for a smile, “Do you like it?”

The warrior had nearly sputtered on his saliva. Like? It was far beyond like and San could feel all the love he had harboured for years bloom from anew. Such a beautiful human existed… San sometimes believed in the existence of angels just to explain the person Wooyoung was. The days bleeding into weeks where San had barely seen the prince had passed by so painfully slow. Wooyoung had been insistent to leave San out of his preparations for the Snowdrop ball, going to the capital to look for a gown with only his mother and Yeosang.

Wooyoung pulled his hands back to his chest, taking a step back to turn and make his gown twirl. The skirt opened and closed like a lily reaching for sunlight before going to slumber again during the dark night.

San wanted to cry. Shed tears of the timeless beauty before him. The white looked mesmerising, and San forbid him the thought as soon as it arrived, but once there, it would never leave him for the night – a tiny thought that this was how Wooyoung could look for a wedding.

“You look beautiful beyond worlds, Wooyoung”, San choked somehow out of his tightened throat, ignoring the way his neck pulsed in heat.

“That’s great”, Wooyoung chirped, offering a hand for San to take, “Pretty people need pretty company after all. Be on my side when we enter?”

Clouds of hot breath left his lips as San looked for words to say but closed his mouth with a content expression. He closed his eyes for a second to calm his heart only for it to double its speed the moment he opened them again. The little ring of silver in Wooyoung’s hair sparkled in the faint light of the moon as did the buttons on his gloves. San clasped his hand around Wooyoung’s ever so gently - so careful and afraid to cause discomfort in the slightest.

The king and queen had a joyful smile on their lips as they looked to them before leading the way, conversing with the servants greeting them in big manners and bows. People were reverential at the sides, looking from afar and gasping about their royal beauty as they ascended the stairs to the archway leading in. All the way over the black carpet, San held Wooyoung’s hand – looking the prince’s way and vice versa. Eyes not leaving for a second as they both bathed in the other’s looks for as long as they could in the moonlight of Marigold’s sky - overcast in stars, cold colours of northern lights and the melody of violins set in for a fulminant crescendo from inside.

San looked hot. Wooyoung did not come around to steal some glances to the boy all in white. His suit hugged his shoulders and body just perfectly and the prince decided curtly that San drove his mind in a fuzzy haze. Of course, it did not go unnoticed by Wooyoung that San’s body had changed. The width of his shoulders alone had surprised the prince at their reunion. However, everything just hit way worse now that he was even holding his hand. Wooyoung felt so tiny and fragile next to San. The grip on his hand ever so gentle and yet, Wooyoung knew for a fact that if he were to fall over, San would catch him without further ado. For a second, Wooyoung was tempted to even try it out.

Just as they left the hallway behind - the ballroom opening in front of them - Wooyoung gasped, excited like a little child. His senses were overflown by shades of gold and orange as an orchestra was playing wildly on their instruments in the back of the room. Flowing fabric of dresses swirled on the dancefloor where pairs were enjoying their time and Wooyoung already felt his fingers itch at the way he wanted to dance. The whole room was decorated in ornaments of marble and draped with white curtains, some also hanging from the golden chandeliers. Everything seemed to glitter in warm colours and Wooyoung loved it as he loved every ball he had ever been to. When he squinted his eyes, he was sure to see a banquet in the far corner. The prince sure hoped so as his stomach growled at him hungrily. Given the countless tables clad with white cloth and plates, he assumed that there must be at least something.

The announcer stood with them on the little podesta of the room, like a balcony, quite the place to announce new arrivals and Wooyoung remembered far too well the first time he’d been here and everyone had looked up to him in awe. He doubted that it would be different today.

After all, it had been silent from the second they had entered. He felt a squeeze on his right hand, looking to San who had a soft smile on his lips, yet a questioning gaze, “Is everything alright?”

Wooyoung wanted to melt at the stern concern dripping from San’s voice. He was too good to be true.

The prince shook his head slightly, but only realised the indication of his action as San’s face fell, leaning closer to see what was wrong, when Wooyoung just looked back into the fairytale of golden glimmer. “Don’t you think it’s beautiful?”

San got the message, relief flooding his veins as he also gave the room a quick glance but got right back to Wooyoung again. He just… for nothing in this world… could look away from the pretty boy. “Everything is beautiful as long as it is in your presence.”

Ah… darn it… Wooyoung blushed again but ignored his body’s reaction the same way he did San’s charming words. Although he was nothing but looking forward to spending this evening with San, something… also made him quite nervous about it. A ball only with San…

San would have loved to drown longer in the sight of the cute blushing prince, but his attention got taken by the whispering on the side. People leaning towards each other, covering their words with hands to talk in private. At first San had mistaken it for pure interest and gossip about the royal family, however, he noticed quickly that most curious eyes were trained on San’s and Wooyoung’s connected hands. San had no intention of letting go just to avoid gossip though. Even if it was just for this night – San would rather let his heart reign over his head and push his worries to the side. He would rather be the gossip of the kingdom’s whole next month than to watch Wooyoung flirt with others. Just one night. Just for tonight.

The announcer startled at the sight of the royal family, making sure to announce them in a loud and polite voice and as fast as he could.

“The royal family of Azalea, King Park and her dear Majesty, Crown Prince Seonghwa with his consort Hongjoong and Prince Wooyoung. In entourage of Lord Choi San and personal cortege!”

San snorted. It sounded like he was some kind of extra – but maybe… in the presence of the royal family he was.

The people stared up to the little podesta of the entrance – awestruck. Even the music had stopped for a second before trumpets set in in even higher tones, trying to impress the royal family.

“Wah, I’m so excited!”, Wooyoung exclaimed, watching the life of the ball continue and it made San smile.

“Where do you wanna go first?”

“Before you go off on your own…”, the king spoke up, getting his son’s attention. “It is far from your first ball – therefore I shall save you the talk and reminder of proper etiquette. However, in the light of latest events, not only our but also the host’s defence is strengthened. I want all of you to be careful and to not wander off on your own. If someone can manage to sneak into our home, they certainly could do at such an event.”

The king stopped his words as his younger son started hugging his own shoulders in discomfort, a visible tremble going through his shoulders.

“That does not mean that by any chance such things must occur tonight. There is no need to be scared.” Wooyoung nodded but didn’t look up, far from convinced by his father’s words. To enhance the meaning of his words, the king stepped up to Wooyoung, squeezing his shoulder lovingly. “Especially you, Wooyoung. Do not worry too much. You love balls, please enjoy yourself. All I’m asking for is to not wander around alone. And that you will stay with my son.” The last words were addressed at San, who quickly bowed, “Yes, your Majesty.”

In all honesty, San would rather lose himself than Wooyoung.

The king seemed to be at ease with that and took his leave with the queen, probably to seek for important people to greet. Seonghwa also seemed like that was his plan, dressed in a white suit similar to San’s, just longer and the white shirt under his jacket was held tight to his body by a black leather corset. His facial features stood out even more since his silver hair was pushed back neatly. His eyes harboured memories San didn’t know about as they wandered towards his husband standing next to him in grey and blue attire. “The Snowdrop ball”, the crown prince whispered, “Bringing up such memories.”

“It’s where I first kissed you.”

Maybe San was starting to imagine things, but he could swear to see the faintest of blushes resting on Seonghwa’s cheeks before he cleared his throat. “I’d like to see if we can find people from the south here. I want to check on the drawbacks in those regions. They may have something to say…”

Hongjoong and Wooyoung seemed to roll their eyes simultaneously before the younger spoke up. “It’s the Snowdrop ball, Seonghwa! It’s like the only time you don’t have to concern yourself with politics and problems. Let’s enjoy ourselves!”

Seonghwa chuckled at that, “You can do so, Wooyoung. But you should know that I enjoy politics more than dancing.”

At that Hongjoong stemmed his hands into his hips, sighing, “As I do. That’s why I married you.”

“Hopeless!”, Wooyoung complained in faint anger before pointing an accusatory finger to his brother, “And stop flirting in front of me!”

Again, Seonghwa laughed but made sure to pull his little brother in for a sudden hug. A shaky breath left Seonghwa as he kept him close. He loved Wooyoung way too much to forbid him the joy of this event. They would all keep an eye on him. He should just have a nice night.

“Stay with San?”, was all Seonghwa was asking and Wooyoung seemed to have exactly that in mind as he nodded to him with a little, cute smile.

Not that Wooyoung would have anything else in mind anyways…

“Yeosang and I can get your coats and jacket to the garderobe?”, Yunho offered with a smile, eyebrows wiggling in mischief as all the advisor wanted was to leave San alone in his misery. San gladly took the offer though, since searching for the garderobe was not a fun activity he had planned with the pretty boy at his side. It was just then that San had realised it.

“Where’s your coat?”, he asked as he let his eyes wander over Wooyoung’s naked shoulders. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t been wearing one even when he had stepped out of the carriage.

Wooyoung seemed to notice San’s confusion and worry and smiled apparently, “I left it in the carriage. On purpose!”, Wooyoung swiftly added as San was already ready to run all the way back to get it.

San frowned, “Weren’t you cold?”

“Nah”, Wooyoung waved him off, “I’m far too excited to cool down any time soon. Besides, when I get cold, I can still go and get it, but I really don’t think it will be needed.”

Yeosang and Yunho excused themselves, chatting shyly while bringing San’s belongings and their own to the garderobe before entertaining themselves somewhere. San took a deep breath. He was now officially alone with Wooyoung.

The prince gave San a smile, before he started pointing towards people and objects, talking and talking and talking. And all San could think about was how cute he was. How adorable his eyes sparkled, how melodious his laughter was and how pretty the dress shaped his body. San gulped hard. Wooyoung was so damn pretty.

Everything in San longed to hold the boy closer – he knew he couldn’t do so. Of course not, the pressing eyes on them were already enough. However, a boy could dream…

A growl came from Wooyoung, who covered his stomach immediately, a light blush on his cheeks. Had he not eaten today? It was true that he hadn’t been with them at lunch time – but he surely just ate somewhere on his own, right? The thought of Wooyoung having eaten nothing since that one slice of bread and cheese in the morning made San’s mind freeze. His eyes flew around seeing if he could find something to eat for his boy.

Just as he was not fully focused on Wooyoung though, he failed to see the new boy coming their way. “Wooyoung, if you’re hungry there is-“, San started, having found a large table with food presented in the far left corner when suddenly Wooyoung rushed forward.

“Oh my- Jongho!”

San looked dumbfounded as he watched Wooyoung jump into another man’s arms, wrapping his own tightly around his neck while lifting his legs with a little skip. Everything in San went cold. The boy – seemingly called Jongho – smiled fondly at the hug, hands on Wooyoung’s naked skin since the dress had a low cut out at the back.

Something hot pumped through San’s veins, nostrils flared as he stepped closer, clearing his throat. What he tried to do as subtly as possible came forward quite aggressive and made Wooyoung and Jongho jump apart.

“Ah, Sannie”, Wooyoung chirped, “That is-“

“I’m Choi Jongho”, the boy with the unusual hair colour of dusty purple said, “I’m the hostess’ son and leading knight of our army.” His expression softened, “And Prince Wooyoung’s friend.”

San tightened his hands to a fist at the way he included Wooyoung in his own introduction. He never ever had heard of a Jongho before in any of Wooyoung’s letters. Whoever he must be – he couldn’t be of great importance.

“Choi San”, San grumbled, taking the boy’s hand and stuttering at the sheer strength that was put in such a simple gesture, “I’m from the noble warrior Choi clan of the west.”

Jongho nodded – probably realising who stood before him, “So, you’re the successor of the Choi warriors?”

San nodded, taken aback by the knowledge Jongho had.

“I’ve heard of you. In fact, every knight has. Your fighting techniques and strength are well discussed among the expertise.”

“Oh! Oh!”, Wooyoung chimed in, latching onto Jongho’s arm in excitement, “You should see him, Jongho! San’s awesome! I watched him spare with my brother! Seonghwa had no chance. I saw how good he was! He even fought with me!”

Jongho raised an eyebrow at that, looking over to San.

“I wasn’t fighting against you!”, San corrected quickly, feeling his cheeks heat up.

“Yeah”, Wooyoung bluffed, rolling his eyes and folding his arms, “San was so unfair. He just let me win.”

Jongho chuckled at that, patting Wooyoung until his annoyed frown turned into a pout. “That’s good. I wouldn’t think much of a man who enjoys fighting you.”

… To say that San was feeling offended was the least. He felt straight up outraged. Who was this Jongho to assume the worst of him? If anyone had to say something like that – it was San himself, who lov- … liked Wooyoung the most after all.

It seemed like Jongho and Wooyoung were still bickering about Wooyoung’s fighting skills while he was lost in his anger, when suddenly Jongho clapped his hands.

“Oh!”, he exclaimed, “Pardon the sudden change of subject, but that reminds me! You should definitely check out our banquet tonight, my prince. I’ve been hunting an elk all on my own to bring the finest of meat to this night’s table.”

“Oh my god!”, Wooyoung squealed excitedly, “Did you hear that San!?”

San nodded with a forced polite expression. Although San wanted nothing but to see Wooyoung happy, he absolutely despised the way Jongho presented and bragged about himself in his presence.

“I’m so hungry”, Wooyoung whined as he followed Jongho who lead the way, “I haven’t eaten at all today.”

A sad pang went through San’s heart. So, it was true…

“Oh, nothing at all?” Again… this judging side glance towards San. “Hasn’t your brother insisted on even something little though? The way I remember you two – he would never let you go so long without a meal.”

Wooyoung bit his lips timidly. “He doesn’t know.”

“Then let’s make sure that does not stay that way, right?”, Jongho giggled as he offered Wooyoung an empty plate. “The food is for our guests, so please take as much as you want.”

Wooyoung’s face lit up, “Oh, really!? That’s awesome, thank you!” The prince put a bit of rice onto his plate before reaching for the meat and sauce.

San watched Wooyoung with a fond smile but something about Jongho’s persistent look didn’t go well with him. What was he waiting for? Why was he just watching Wooyoung? Why wasn’t he eating himself? And that was when a thought nested in San’s head and the more Wooyoung got on his plate, the louder it was.

What if it is poisoned?

Just as Wooyoung blew the steaming hot food, ready to take a bite San was flashed with memories of last teatime. The way Seonghwa had dragged his spoon out of the acid, revealing the leftovers that hadn’t fallen victim to the aggressive liquid. Once again, he felt that bubbling fear as he saw Wooyoung’s lips on the cup of the same acid, hovering just seconds before injuring himself gravely before his inner eye.

And all of that burned in San’s soul as he watched Wooyoung open his mouth to eat. San couldn’t watch.

He gripped Wooyoung’s wrist. Tight.

It made the prince flinch but remained his grip on the plate and the fork. “San?”

San tried to calm his breath and the trembling in his hands. His eyes burnt at the horror of what would have been to come if Wooyoung were poisoned – he couldn’t risk losing him.

“San?”, Wooyoung asked again, now frowning in confusion at his friend’s silence. He too, felt the shaking in his hand where he had gripped him tightly. “San, please let go”, he said – more in confusion as anything else, but Jongho took that wrong.

“You are hurting him! Let go off him immediately or you will leave this ball before it begins for you!”

Wooyoung and San shrieked at those words, San carefully unlatching his hand, eyes wide, before he inspected Wooyoung’s red wrist.

“Heaven, I am-“, he started but Wooyoung just flicked against his forehead.

“You dummy”, he sighed before he eyed Jongho with a dark look, “And no, San didn’t hurt me.”

Jongho widened his eyes at Wooyoung’s angry eyes, “My apologies, my prince. You looked rather uncomfortable, so I wanted to be sure.”

Wooyoung shook his head at that, “It’s alright. San wouldn’t hurt me though.”

“Then… what was it about?”, Jongho asked curiously making Wooyoung also turn to San.

“Yeah, I would like to know that too?”

San swallowed, “I- I apologise. My thoughts laid with the latest events, and I panicked whether it could be poisoned.”

“Poisoned?!”, Jongho asked, before shooting Wooyoung a worried glance, “Have you been poisoned lately?”

Wooyoung shook his head, before eyeing his plate sadly, “No such thing, no. No need to worry, though. Things are… under control?” The question made San wince – he hadn’t intended to scare Wooyoung, but he did.

“Are you sure-?”, Jongho asked again, but Wooyoung gave the lavender boy a sad smile.

“Jongho could you… excuse us? I would like to have time with San alone, if that is alright?”

The young boy looked stunned by the question – probably thinking about a thousand things per second – what he could have done wrong and if he had managed to make the prince sad? However, he did not pry further, nodding slightly and leaving with a quiet “See you later”.

“I’m sorry, Wooyoung”, San breathed as they were alone, “I- I didn’t mean to scare you or talk about the acid. I think I was just panicking.”

Wooyoung looked sternly at San, his jaw so tense, and San wondered if he was mad.

But then the boy in the pretty white dress sighed, putting the plate back onto the table. “No, it’s fine. Let’s go to the dancefloor?”

San raised an eyebrow, “But your food?”

“I’m not hungry anymore. I’d rather see if I can dance for a bit.”

He… definitely had made him uncomfortable. Damnit. He should really watch his tongue more carefully. Wooyoung should have a joyful night after all…

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The violins played in a comfortable rhythm. San and Wooyoung approached the dancefloor of the ballroom, needing to make quick stops here and there when someone wanted to chat with the prince. San had never realised – they had never been much outside the palace’s walls – but as soon as Wooyoung was outside in the public’s eyes, he was such a prominent figure.

Countless young men had already approached him and asked him for a dance – be it courtesy to the royal family or interest – Wooyoung had luckily always declined.

San didn’t know if he declined the dances because he just didn’t like to dance with strangers or if he perhaps… San’s face went red as he only as much as allowed himself to think about that.

“Sannie!”, Wooyoung shined like a sun as he turned to him, white fabric twirling around his legs as a bit of them flashed under his dress. Oh, by heaven… If Wooyoung wanted to dance, how should he ever keep his hands to himself? On top of that, if there was one thing San was bad in, then it was…

“Let’ dance!”

San sighed.

“One, two, three, four! One, two, three—Choi San!!”

“Ouch!”, the whine of San sounded in the wooden room. San pouted at the dance instructor who had smacked San’s head with the conductor’s baton.

“You have to lead, there is no use in you dancing the same steps as Prince Wooyoung!”

San sulked as he took hold of Wooyoung’s hands again, eyes fiercely down on their legs. It wasn’t his fault that the dancing was so complicated. He couldn’t remember the steps, no matter how much he tried.

The music set in and San tried his best to move a foot after another, biting his tongue with a frown and falling completely out of the rhythm that way. However, Wooyoung didn’t seem to dance anymore, staying still with his expressions full of thought.

San flinched. Oh no, had he made Wooyoung mad?

“Instructor Kang, can I offer an idea?”

Of course, the prince would be never declined voicing his thoughts, making the eyebrows of the instructor raise to the top of the ceiling.

It was from those times onwards that Wooyoung started to lead in dancing. San never felt awkward about it. He never cared about dancing anyways, and it was a lot simpler that way.

However, …

Now, in-between all those nobles and aristocrats, he was kind of embarrassed that he probably wouldn’t get a single right step together if Wooyoung didn’t lead.

“Is it alright if I take the lead?”, Wooyoung asked as he stepped closer, offering San his hand to hold.

San sighed but shook his head with a little smile, “No. The time I’ve spent honing my fighting skills you probably spent on the dance floor.”

“You’re more than right”, Wooyoung grinned, wrapping his hand around San’s back, coming closer and closer and closer…

San swallowed; he had nearly forgotten how close one had to stand with each other in order to dance. Their noses were almost touching, and San saw stars dance in front of his eyes as he could see Wooyoung’s little moles so clearly. His dark grey eyes had a warm glint and made San lose himself in them for a good couple of seconds, before the violins started a faster song.

“You do need to hold me in order for us to dance, you know?

San startled at that, “What?”

Wooyoung giggled before placing San’s own hand on Wooyoung’s naked back. “Like this, right? So, we can dance?”

Oh my god… San was a goner.

The way his gloved hands caressed over Wooyoung’s hot skin made San breathless and he was sure to break out into a sudden sweat before they even started to dance.

Wooyoung tipped his shoe onto the floor, looking for the beat before he gave San a smug smirk.

“Now that’s a challenge – don’t you think so?”

San blinked tiredly before he shrieked as Wooyoung led with a fulminant tempo. All the mistakes and times San had been falling to the floor were worth it though as he bathed in the plangent laughter of the other. San would forever make a fool out of himself if it meant making Wooyoung laugh.

He was lucky though; a slower song was settling right after, and it was perfect for San and Wooyoung to just sway closely with each other.

“Oh man, that’s boring”, Wooyoung pouted but never stopped dancing, his hands fiddling on San’s shoulders.

San laughed at that, getting a little kick against his shin in-between the steps and an angered gaze, “Don’t laugh.”

“I can’t resist. You’re too adorable.”

“S-stop it”, Wooyoung stuttered, cheeks in a fiery red, but San just leaned in closer with a smirk but also halted in his movement as Wooyoung didn’t pull back, making them far too close.

San felt the way Wooyoung’s breathing hitched on his own lips and made him immediately jolt back.

The rhythm they fell into was nice and Wooyoung smiled after a while, leaning closer so that his cheek rested on San’s shoulder and neck. “I love dancing with you. It always feels like home.” You feel like home… But that was something Wooyoung didn’t say.

San’s heart was beating so fast that maintaining the slow steps grew heavier with the seconds. His body was so small in his arms, yet so warm and soft. Additionally, Wooyoung smelled really good. It was a mixture of almond and orange. He couldn’t resist to caress his fingers over the arch of Wooyoung’s back in slow patterns, while they swayed with closed eyes to the music.

Wooyoung was everything to San. It hurt to be so close to him and yet so far away. How he wished this was the dance of their wedding and San would have said ‘yes’. There was no way he could forgive himself for using Wooyoung like that though. He wanted all of the boy, or nothing. The weeks were passing fast and nearly a month was over now. It made him so uneasy to know that if he didn’t win the prince’s heart over by the end of the early summer months, there would be another marriage arranged in nearly no time.

Wooyoung would be someone else’s.

A shiver ran down his spine, making Wooyoung lift his head. Wooyoung, with those damn kissable plumb lips and silver glittery makeup sitting on his lids. The grey eyes sparkling like moonlight in the shine of the candles. Wooyoung, with his silver ring in his hair and white long gown. His Wooyoung…

San pressed Wooyoung close to his body again while keeping their dance alive. He couldn’t bear to look longer at this mesmerising boy without doing something stupid.

Meanwhile Wooyoung tensed up at the body contact that the both of them were suddenly sharing. He wouldn’t say that he didn’t like it. No, it was quite the contrary. His heart jumped in excitement as his hands gripped the back of San’s jacket. For the utmost time he bit back a hum as he felt San’s fingers explore his skin where the dress didn’t reach. There was a slight stubble of beard on San’s jaw, and it tickled so much that Wooyoung giggled in his hold. The arms tightened even more around Wooyoung and made the boy silent as he saw stars. So close, so close. And if that wasn’t all, San smelled so good. It was a mixture of jasmine and roses and made Wooyoung immediately think of the royal gardens when the rose bushes started to bloom in the summer.

Wooyoung noticed too late that in his mission to get a good whiff of San’s perfume, he pressed his face to his neck, his lips touching his skin there. Like he got burnt, Wooyoung flinched back, looking at San, who looked almost terrified at what happened. Wooyoung had blushed a lot in his life – especially in the presence of San – but he had never… NEVER… felt that embarrassed and…

SHOOT!

“Partner change!!”, Wooyoung screeched as he tipped a boy next to them onto his shoulder and stole his partner in the blink of an eye. San’s arms hovered helplessly in the air as the new person stood in front of him. It took him a second to realise it was Jongho and put his hands down.

W-what just happened???

San touched the left side of his neck where he could still feel… he…

The blood rushed to his face… Did Wooyoung really…? Were those his lips?!

Jongho had a brow crooked at the speechless warrior. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Don’t worry, I don’t want to dance with you too. I’ll see if I can see that cute boy from earlier or wait until Wooyoung is done dancing with my little sister.”

What did he say? San was still nowhere near his presence, but his eyes found Wooyoung who laughed at the younger girl who was complimenting his dress, his hair, his make-up and… to be honest just everything.

San sighed.

It must have been his imagination. As if someone like Wooyoung- no… as if Wooyoung – his Wooyoung – would… would… would…

San couldn’t even think it aloud without running his blood pressure high.

“You don’t seem so well”, Jongho continued as he waved a hand in front of San’s soulless eyes, “Maybe you should get yourself something to drink or eat? Sit down maybe?”

San nodded without thinking. Water… yes, water sounds good. Maybe not only for him but for Wooyoung too. The prince had not eaten today after all.

The worry for the prince seemed to have taken San out of his emotional misery and despair, making his body follow his orders once again. With a last glance to a giggling Wooyoung - whose cheeks were still in a light rose pink – he went back to the banquet.

San fetched a can with water, pouring him a drink. Then another. And a third-

“You are thirsty, damn. Did the dancing with Wooyoung take such a toll on your stamina or did perhaps… something else happen?”

The implication made San spit half of the water back into his glass, coughing. “N-no. Nothing happened.”

Yunho raised a brow at that, folding his arms. “Is that so? From my perspective it looked as if Wooyoung kissed your neck.”

San wasn’t feeling his face anymore. All the blood rushing through it had made it completely numb. “Y- you must have been imagining things, Yunho. Next time we’re in the capital we need to make sure to get you glasses.”

Yunho snorted at that but left with a shrug. “If you don’t want to speak about it with me later tonight, I may as well just ask Wooyoung.”

“T-that’s-“, San stuttered but Yunho waved him off before going to get himself a plate of food.

San rubbed over his face tiredly. What in heaven’s name just happened!?

“I’d love to know the same.”

The voice startled San as he looked up to meet a blonde boy. Yeosang. Only now San realised the low cut in his white simple suit and the glittering belts around his hips. His curls laid wildly on top of his head while he eyed San suspiciously.

… Did I say that out loud?

Yeosang raised a brow at San who quickly searched for words. “I- I’m getting Wooyoung a glass of water.”

“Aha.”

Why was he just always so stern!? It drove San insane!

“Did you…”, San started but trailed off while he reached for a new glass.

“If you want me to ask whether I saw Wooyoung kissing your neck – yes, I did.”

San froze in his movement. Oh, by heaven’s sake, this was all awful.

“However… I wasn’t the only one. This is a social event and Wooyoung as the unmarried prince of this kingdom is in everybody’s sight all the time. I just wonder why the man declining his hand in marriage would do as much as come that close to him in a public space?”

A hot shiver tickled over San’s spine.

“Well… It’s not exactly my cup of tea. Just do not cause Wooyoung trouble that would tarnish his reputation. And also… you should watch yours.”

With that, the blonde left to the crowd of people Yunho had started a conversation with. San sighed. Oh, god – he would proceed to make himself enemies if he just… boldly flirted with the younger prince like that. He could almost feel the stabbing glances on his body from all sides, turning away as he looked back up from his task of pouring some water.

Just as San made his way back though, he found Jongho’s sister laughing while dancing with another man. Weird, he thought as he looked around to see if Wooyoung had gotten tired of her and changed partners again. Wooyoung loved dancing, he might not very much care with whom. However, there was no sight of the boy in the long white dress and a sizzling hot feeling like acid spread in his body. San forbid his nerves to go havoc, trying to stay calm and collected as he pushed through the dancing pairs. Maybe he could find Jongho, who had been with him? Or Wooyoung had wanted to go to his family? Or perhaps he had been seeking San and was now walking around alone trying to find him?

Alone…

San gritted his teeth.

Wooyoung would never wander around alone, right? Not when his father had asked him so kindly to follow this one rule, right? But also, Wooyoung was a free spirit. Sometimes too laid back to see danger coming. But… where could he have gone to? Maybe the restroom?

Without noticing it, San had accelerated his steps, putting the glass of water on a waiter’s tablet as his head whipped around furiously. He pushed through the crowds, aristocrats giving him unamused looks. In a last resort, San jogged over to the podesta at the entrance where the announcer looked at him with wide eyes.

“Pardon the disturbance, but have you perhaps seen Prince Park Wooyoung leave?”

The announcer raised his eyebrows further at that before answering, “He left just a few minutes ago with another man, I could not see exactly who it was, but I think it wa-“

“So, he didn’t leave alone!?”, San nearly yelled, making the announcer flinch. No, no… that was bad. San thought that it would be worse for Wooyoung to run around on his own but in the company of a man!? It made his stomach churn and bile rise his throat.

“Sh-should I call for the guards?!”, the announcer hastily urged now, gripping the ribbon of the front of his chest in a panic, but San rushed a shake of his head.

“No, everything is alright”, he said with a fake smile before dashing off. “Thank you.”

Nothing was alright. Nothing at all. But alerting the guards was too much and on top of that- San gritted his teeth. He couldn’t let the king and queen or even Seonghwa or Hongjoong know about that. Whoever had the audacity to steal away Wooyoung from the ball’s room would get to feel San’s wrath and San’s alone.

He was met with cold air, cursing February for the icy grip it had. Flakes of snow melted on his heated body as his eyes looked over the empty place, carriages were staggered at the side and San was quick to identify their own. And not only that…

His steps got quicker and quicker as he fell in a full speed sprint. There was certainly a white silhouette of fabric sitting in the door of the carriage, hugging his own body in discomfort as another man crouched in front of the prince. Rage flared in San’s body like a seething hot fire. The cold of the snow and night had been forgotten as he couldn’t await the second, he would reach them. Reach them before the stranger would dare to kidnap the prince any further.

With a growl, San grabbed the stranger’s shoulder, flinging him backwards. The man landed with a surprised grunt while San reached for Wooyoung who backed away at the sudden attack. Before San could reach Wooyoung, the sound of a drawn sword seared through the air and San reacted fast, drawing his own as both men pointed the tip of their weapon towards each other.

It was in that moment that San realised it was Jongho.

“San?”, Wooyoung exclaimed with faster breaths, probably stressed from the drawn swords.

“Stay behind me.”

“What’s wrong?”, Wooyoung asked, trying to pull San’s arm away, “Don’t point your sword at Jongho.”

“I am protecting you?”

Jongho seemed amused by the words, grunting, “Protecting? It seemed like you are the one Wooyoung should be protected from.”

The wind picked up, making the snow rise between them like fog. San raised the tip of his sword, making Jongho tilt his head upwards, who still laid in the snow. “I am not the one who kidnapped him to the cold outside and without supervision.”

Jongho clicked with his tongue, copying San’s movement and lifting his word more, “I am the supervision.”

That was enough. Wooyoung had enough. With gritted teeth the boy stood up, pushing San to the side while making sure their swords were not pointed at each other anymore. “No, you are both idiots! That’s all you are!!”

“My Prince…”, Jongho started but Wooyoung shot him down with an angered glance.

“No… nothing ‘my prince’! I’m sick of you all behaving like I can’t take care of myself!”

“Wooyoung…”, San breathed in shock, looking at the boy in awe. “I never thought so about you.”

The prince stepped up to the warrior, pushing an accusing finger into San’s chest. The solid surface aggregated Wooyoung just more. If it wasn’t for San’s stupid buff new appearance, he wouldn’t feel that way. So… weird. Small and fragile and so… vulnerable and… Wooyoung had been protected his whole life and it was alright. He was used to it, but the way he was pictured next to San just… San just… Everything about San just…

Wooyoung was irritated. Since the day San had been back, he had been blushing; he had been stuttering and stumbling. He was a mess and Wooyoung knew why. The butterflies and funny feelings in his stomach were reason enough but… urhg—

The feeling was comfortable and uncomfortable all the same and yet, Wooyoung couldn’t stand to admit it, so he rather… pushed it away.

“Oh, please… I just wanted to get my coat from the carriage since I’m cold.”

San looked offended, almost hurt, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Wooyoung bit the inside of his mouth, “Jongho was there, you weren’t. Asking him came naturally!!”

The words hurt San, as he suddenly put a hand above his chest, lips parting slightly as he dodged Wooyoung’s gaze. “I just…”, San started murmuring and getting so quiet, “You shouldn’t leave with strangers. I just want you safe.”

Maybe for San Jongho was a mere stranger, but for Wooyoung the boy was a friend and San had to understand that. “Jongho is no stranger! You don’t have to know everything about my life, San! Just leave me alone!”

The warrior flinched at the way the prince’s cheeks tainted in red but this time because of rage and not sweetness.

“Please understand”, San begged since fighting with Wooyoung was the last thing he wanted to do, “I’ve been worried for your well-being every day and every second since we met in first spring. However, … I haven’t had a peaceful night since the incident at the palace. Wooyoung, I- “

That also got Jongho’s attention, “Wait, what incident? Is this about the poison before?”

San and Wooyoung stared into each other’s eyes, one caught by fire, the other frozen in ice. The prince’s jaw was tensed, and his muscles flexed as his temper was making his body shake. The cold was long forgotten as his rage took over. He was just so upset by everything happening lately – all he wanted were some months with his best childhood friend like back in the old days and not the awkwardness between them. He couldn’t stand it but yet… he couldn’t forbid his heart to feel, his head to think and his body… to react.

Wooyoung was tired.

“If you want to be my guard that fucking badly”, Wooyoung sneered and the respectless, informal speech and tone made not only San but also Jongho flinch, “Then be one and stay in the background.” He took the ends of his white dress, lifting them slightly, “I do not wish to talk to you again tonight.” With that Wooyoung stamped off, making the boys look after the running prince.

“My Prince!”

“Wooyoung!”

Their voices echoed in the empty place, some people grouping outside looking their way and whispering towards each other as they watched the younger prince ran to the palace again.

Something in San had broken. It was less what Wooyoung had said and more the raw emotions reflecting in his dark eyes. If it wasn’t already enough, San had seen his own shook expression mirrored in the prince’s glossy eyes. They had fought often when they were younger. From stolen toys to mood swings – always resolved by the end of the day.

With a bitter expression, San let the red wine sway in his glass – he had taken it but had not drunk anything. Every motivation to do so left him as he was watching Wooyoung dance with the third guy since returning. San shouldn’t care so much. He had been offered to marry him after all. Everything Wooyoung was, could have been his – when he would have been just a bit more selfish and a little less in love with Wooyoung. He loved the prince so much, that he knew he couldn’t hurt him with a forced relationship. San wanted Wooyoung’s undying – but mutual – love. He didn’t want an arranged marriage. He wanted to propose to him. Wanted to slowly fall in love with him while spring brought the first blossom, laying wrapped in blankets and sharing gossip while holding hands. It was a dream-like illusion and yet it was the picture that had helped San fall asleep after hours of relentless turning at the thought of Wooyoung being poisoned.

“You don’t seem like you want to stop it anytime soon?”

San didn’t look, just keeping his eyes on Wooyoung who was twirled, giggling happily as he found back to the man dancing with him. He should have twirled him too… Making his pretty dress open like a flower in the motion.

“San?”

“Wooyoung is not mine, he can do whatever his heart desires.”

The cold words made Yunho perplex, “That is partly true, however – my Lord – you love him and should fight for-“

San silenced his advisor in putting the glass of wine forcefully back on the table, hot shivers following the form of his spine as he thought for a second, he had broken the glass.

“It doesn’t matter who I love… If Wooyoung doesn’t love me back, there is no sense in it all!”

Yunho looked torn at San’s sudden display of hopelessness. “Did something happen?”

San sighed, ruffling his hair before regretting it as it had been styled so well before, “Nothing I shouldn’t have expected, truly.”

Yunho gave him a weird glance, “You sometimes speak in riddles, my Lord.”

The warrior grunted, letting himself fall into a chair and watching Wooyoung dance with a broken expression. He gulped a big lump, trying to fight tears coming as the words Wooyoung had yelled at him repeated in his head over and over again. A feeling of loss washed over him, head falling in his hands as he tried to erase the picture of Wooyoung dancing so happily in another one’s arms. San thought he could do it. Could just pretend to not love the prince. But he couldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t have stayed with the royal family. It made everything worse. Old scars had been ripped open again.

He pressed his hands to his chest – suddenly breathless. An invisible force wrapped around his throat, making him choke as he felt the old shabby fissure of his healed heart tear. It hurt like it did when he had to leave. When he had been cursing his eyes for producing tears after tears making the sight of the prince in the distance - getting smaller and smaller - to a blurry resemblance that could have been nothing more than a ghost after all.

Everything hurt.

However, San wasn’t the only one fighting with his ripped-out heart as Wooyoung made sure to leave his eyes wandering, always settling on San’s sacked position.

‘I was right’, he tried to tell himself for the utmost time as he flinched because of the stranger’s hand on his back wandering to his waist once again. Wooyoung sighed as he kept looking over the man’s shoulder to San. How he wished that it was him holding him so closely. With San, dancing felt like magic and not like the disaster that this was. Everyone here was capable of dancing, some better than others, but no one had this… spark. No one gave Wooyoung what San could. It left Wooyoung so cold, yet he pressed his nose high into the air.

‘I was right…’

The words seemed like a lie to Wooyoung’s heart.

A whisper far too intimate for his own liking got him out of his trance of self-pity and reprovals. “The fireworks are about to go off, my prince. Will you watch them with me and share the romance of the moment?”

Wooyoung cringed, “I am very excited to watch the fireworks.”

Something in the man’s eyes lit up and Wooyoung almost rolled his eyes. Wooyoung would have more genuine male friends if men would not mistake the slightest display of affection that Wooyoung showed for romantic interest.

He had always thought that Seonghwa would be the one struggling with people greedy for power. He had been wrong as people never dared to approach or touch his brother, but Wooyoung had always been a target for them all. How wrong men were.

Before Wooyoung could reply, Seonghwa shoved them apart. “My brother will be watching with me. And now excuse us. There is no need to let your filthy hands wander further down his dress if you wish to keep them.”

The man ripped his eyes open, pulling his hands to his chest as if to protect them. “I- I never had any intentions. I apologise if something was off-putting.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. Perhaps his brother had it easier than he had. Married. Successful in war. Tall and athletic. Kind and pretty. Everything in one.

The man ran off under Seonghwa’s hard gaze and tense jaw as he cracked with his knuckles. “Sometimes I wish death sentences were still a thing.”

Wooyoung shrieked, giving his brother a light jab, “Seonghwa?!”, he exclaimed with a chuckle at the end though, his hand hiding his laugh.

Seonghwa smiled too, “It’s true. Nobody makes my little brother uncomfortable and gets away.”

“I wasn’t uncomfortable.”

The raised eyebrow made Wooyoung huff.

“Alright – maybe a little.”

Seonghwa put a hand on Wooyoung’s back, guiding him out to the balcony. “I don’t want to meddle in private affairs but is there a reason San is watching you from a safety distance of half the room and looks like a kicked puppy?”

Wooyoung froze, searching for words, “Y-you’re imagining things.”

“So…”, Seonghwa continued with a smart glance, “I must have also been imagining you two not talking to each other since hours, then?”

The cold air was refreshing on his heated skin. Cheeks rosy as he felt caught by his own brother. “Right…”, Wooyoung mumbled but averted his eyes. What a disaster.

The garden of the castle laid in snow as the snowfall from before had covered the plants and bushes lightly. Wooyoung loved the way the snow glittered in the light of the lamps from inside and the little white lanterns sitting on the corners of the balustrade. Wooyoung leaned onto it, shivering as the cold wet stone ate into his skin.

Seonghwa looked to Wooyoung with a frown before he turned to see…

Yeah, San had followed them outside, leaning himself against the wall furthest from them. Seonghwa knew that his brother and San were both quite impulsive and stubborn when they were children, it wouldn’t surprise him if they got into a quarrel.

When Seonghwa had learned that San would be the man their parents had chosen for Wooyoung, he was genuinely happy. Seonghwa knew how much San meant to Wooyoung. However, especially affairs of the heart were never easily visible for people from outside and Seonghwa wouldn’t step into such things unless his brother was harmed.

He wouldn’t have wanted someone to interfere in his relationship too – and the days he had gotten to know Hongjoong had been anything but easy. Seonghwa gave Wooyoung a little hug from behind, a squeeze of his shoulder and then wandered off to find Hongjoong.

Wooyoung sighed. All by himself he felt… lonely. Although there were dozens of people around, he rather not had any of them come to converse with him. After all, Wooyoung had never wanted the attention of strangers. He always tried to find this one person at any event he had been – purely the reason why he started so vividly to attend them at all. He wanted to see the boy he had lost his heart to as a child. The boy who was his best friend and knew him better than anyone else.

He trusted San more than anyone… so, why did he yell at him like that?

Wooyoung pressed his gloved hands under his eyes, trying to get the tears gone without smudging the faint silver glitter on his eyelids.

Dancing with San on the Snowdrop ball – had there been anything Wooyoung had ever wanted more? He remembered the countless years he had attended, always in the prettiest dresses or suits he could find, nervous for nothing, as San always turned out to never be there.

Now that he felt the burning yet so caring eyes in his back, it didn’t make him uncomfortable in that way. Wooyoung felt safe. He knew as long as San was with him, even when they had fought, he’d never abandon him.

It made Wooyoung bite his lips. Had he ruined something that hadn’t even started yet? What… should have started in the first place…?

Wooyoung pressed his palm against the left side of his chest. His heart was racing.

“It is cold.”

And there he was. Wooyoung froze as he kept his eyes lowered to the balustrade, scared that he would catch the trails of his tears.

“Please take my jacket, my Pri- Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung shook his head. He didn’t want to be this weak. San should apologise first for acting like that, right? And for looking that tall and making Wooyoung feel so different…

Wooyoung lowered his hands back to the balustrade, his heart way too loud in his ears.

Maybe… Wooyoung was wrong.

Everything he felt when he was next to San was warmth. San felt like those winter days spent cuddled up together in blankets before the fireplace as his mother had brought them hot chocolate. He felt like the games of hide and seek they had played in the summer. Like the leaves they had played with when autumn had lost them to the cold and like the compliments San had never failed to voice when they went for walks in the first spring breeze.

San had been his everything for exactly seven years and the protagonist of his dreams for the upcoming ones. San had been his best friend for years, but now that he was back…

Some things… felt different and… Wooyoung didn’t know where to put those feelings.

“I don’t need it.”

San’s hopeful expression fell, “You are shivering. If you do not want to take mine, I will go get your coat.”

Wooyoung bit his lip. He at least could have gotten his coat in all the chaos back then...

“It’s fine”, he gritted out making San press further.

“I do not want you to catch a cold, please.”

That made something in Wooyoung snap. He had been so rude to San, why was he still here caring for him like nothing happened!? Why was he so… so good?! So… nice.

The prince turned around furiously, the fast movement making San back away. Just the sight of San brought the tears over the brink of Wooyoung’s eyes, making the prince reach to wipe them away.

San must still have seen them, given his shocked expression.

“I told you to not speak to me anymore tonight!”, Wooyoung choked out, lips wobbling as he looked everywhere – at San’s shirt, his hair, his gloves and twitching fingers – everything, but his eyes.

San’s hands holding the white jacket fell limply to his side. Wooyoung was scared to meet his glance, so he just turned back to look into the garden, waiting for the fireworks.

Without a word San retreated, but not without placing his warm jacket next to Wooyoung on the balustrade. Wooyoung thought he’d go back to the place he was before, standing at the wall behind Wooyoung to watch after him again, however – this time he walked off to Yunho and Yeosang who were talking a bit further away.

It stinged. Far more than Wooyoung had imagined.

He must have looked like a frightened deer in the danger of an upcoming carriage. So… vulnerable.

Wooyoung hugged his own shoulders as his teeth chattered, the cold biting at his skin as all warmth left with the presence of San.

Piping sounds got him back to reality as he watched a rocket fly off to explode in thousands of twinkling stars. In green and in red. Mostly in silver and white. The aristocrats and nobles were all ‘Ahhh’-ing and ‘Ohhh’-ing at the display and Wooyoung felt as if the beautiful colours were clearing his head. Clearing it from all the negativity, fears and insecurities that had nested there.

After all, if there was anything Wooyoung was confident in, it was San. He had never doubted San from the first second they had meet in his own gardens for the first time. Never since then. Why should those things change now?

San was watching the same firework just a few steps away from the lonely prince, checking over once in a while to see if Wooyoung enjoyed them. As a child Wooyoung had always loved them so much, he wanted to see if that had changed.

As he looked over, a warm feeling pressed into his stomach and a smile came alive on his face again as he saw his jacket draped tightly around Wooyoung’s shoulders. His gloved hands holding it tightly like a blanket. The sight made San’s heart jump happily.

Everything would come together again. San was sure.

Chapter Text

The sun shone low through his curtains. A chilling breeze made his milky white curtains sway as he inspected himself in the mirror twinkling of gold.

“I’m in the right!”, Wooyoung said with his chin held high. He met his own eyes, trying to make his gaze as firm as possible. “Everything is San’s fault.”

A snort came from behind him, as Yeosang – currently folding the prince’s clothes neatly – had to disagree.

“What exactly is San’s fault, my prince? His good looks? His well-built physique?”

Against Wooyoung’s will, an image of his ridiculous triangle body formed in his mind. The way the simplest of clothes hugged his skin like they were custom-made...

“Or is it his charming smile? Or his well-chosen words that make you a similar shade to the red-leaved roses of our gardens?”

“Enough!”

It didn’t help one bit that everything Yeosang mentioned came to life so vividly in Wooyoung’s mind. Just the… sole mention of San brought not one but so many pictures into his head. Flickering between the ones of a scrawny young boy and the man San had become now. Sometimes Wooyoung laid in his bed awake wondering if San was really San. If he was really that boy he had lost when they were 15.

Wooyoung didn’t like the silence that followed after that. He wanted Yeosang to understand that whatever he said was not the case. He… he was just nervous around San.

“Whatever”, he huffed in conclusion, blowing a strand of black hair out of his face.

If Wooyoung tried hard enough, he could ignore the way his heart bounced to his throat. The way his body ran hot when he and San shared a room and his blood gathered in his cheeks as soon as he talked to him. Indeed, Wooyoung could as well ignore the way he had dressed up for a lunch with his family. He was the prince after all – he definitely didn’t need a reason to look a bit more on the fancy side.

He flattened out the frill in front of his white shirt, before he adjusted the belt just a bit tighter.

No, he didn’t dress up for San.

His mother had asked him to come around for lunch. Usually, his family indulged in shared meals every day, but since the Snowdrop ball, things had been more hectic. The situation in the south had worsened, as Seonghwa had heard there. The carrier pigeons delivered a letter asking of the situation – getting a request for aid in return. There was no need for military help yet, as there no conflict broke out so far. Wooyoung wasn’t the most indoctrinated about politics, but it was hard not to notice that things looked worse. War and battles were never something Wooyoung had shone with, but he knew when it got serious. He was familiar with the tired face of his father, the hysteric, shrill and forced laughter of his mother and clingy control. He knew… for a fact… that things were going awry when Seonghwa started having no time for Wooyoung. Because whatever happened and no matter if it was at the first ray of sunshine or the last count before midnight, Seonghwa was there for him and would always check for his well-being once or twice a day. The castle had gotten cold the moment Wooyoung had felt the change, knowing that asking would do more harm than good, because all his family wanted was to keep him as far away from it as possible. Wooyoung was allowed to know as much as he wanted to, but he rather did not want to know. Not yet. Not now.

He had been only 21 when Seonghwa had left for war and he would wish to not bring back ghosts from the past as Wooyoung had started to decline his meals more and more frequently – his stomach rebellious in reply to the worry seeping through each of his bones, eating away on his appetite like the acid had done on the spoon. The queen had thought that it must be the cooking – she had fired man after woman to find someone who would appease Wooyoung’s drawn-back behaviour. But truth was that only the return of Seonghwa had been the solution.

Just the thought of him having to leave again…

He fisted the frill at his shirt.

At least he would have San with him. Yeah, at least this time… San would be…

He could really damn himself for his thoughts and even more for the comfort the sole thought had brought to his aching heart. Wooyoung shook his head, making his wavy hair bounce. He nibbled on his lower lip, squinting his eyes to see better as he put one of his hanging silver clips into his hair – some pearls of marble dangling from the upper end.

He didn’t dress up because of San. No. No, that was not it.

And yet, Wooyoung’s steps were so fast. Even the guards who had known Wooyoung for years now gave him surprised looks. His heart was beating in his head – or was it a headache starting at his temples? Whatever it was, it hindered Wooyoung from thinking straight.

Before the guards could reach for the doorhandles of the dining room, Wooyoung pushed the doors open by himself, not slowing down in his pace as the wings of the doors bumped against the wall with a heavy echoing thump.

“I’m here!”, Wooyoung announced, only gathering a snicker by his brother’s husband.

“We noticed as much.”

The table was already laid in a cloth. Royal blue with white dots. There was cutlery and plates. Empty glasses and two small pots of freshly plucked snowdrops.

Wooyoung let his eyes wander, ignoring his parents and brother’s questioning gaze. Usually, Wooyoung would have snapped back at Hongjoong’s poor attitude towards him, but the lack of a specific person dampened his mood. “Oh…”, was his simple and useless reply, making his family exchange looks.

Why wasn’t San here?

The queen went over to her son, holding her wide dress up to not let it wipe over the floor. She embraced Wooyoung in a sudden and tight hug. It came out of nowhere, out of the range of explanation Wooyoung had that his head concluded with the worst scenario.

He hadn’t seen San in a while now. The ball had been last week and if he thought hard… he couldn’t remember stumbling over Advisor Yunho or one of San’s guards or servants. What if San already…

What if the fight between them had changed the noble warrior’s mind…?

All those worries puffed into air though as his mother lovingly pushed back his hair, petting it. “You look lovely, Wooyoung. You should stop hiding so much in your room and spend more time with your lovely mother.”

Wooyoung nodded with a grin, albeit fake.

His heart settled a bit after he was seated next to Seonghwa and an empty seat. San’s empty seat, as Wooyoung had learned. It felt like a stone was falling off his chest. So, San was still here and invited to the family lunch…?

His absence remained though and Wooyoung wasn’t hungry. A sigh escaped his lips. Another meal being tormented by his fork stabbing around in circles. If his restless thoughts weren’t enough to deal with, the gaze of his worried brother certainly was. Wooyoung had always been bad at hiding anything from Seonghwa after all.

The crown prince already opened his mouth, Wooyoung tensing up as he was saved by the servants bringing the meal. He had never been that thankful for food before.

A display of steaks piled on lush green salad; tomatoes decorated in patters around were put in the middle. Mashed potatoes were served in little portions. Some servants walked around with a can of black clay, filling up their crystal-clear glasses with wine so red it left stains on their lips in a healthy rose.

Wooyoung watched his family reaching for their cutlery and starting their meal in a polite and light atmosphere. His lips built a line, pressed together tightly as the thought of eating did not sit comfortably with him.

Where was San…?

“Wooyoung? Darling, aren’t you hungry?” The sound of his mother’s voice brought him out of his head, making him look up to her with wide and round eyes. She looked a bit worried behind her wrinkles, like the way a mother hen looked at her baby chicks. “Don’t you want to eat something, dear?”

There was a slight tremble in his shoulders as he hugged them and shook his head slightly under the gaze of his family.

His mother pulled her lips in a pout, putting back her cluttery. “You have not eaten today. Yeosang has told me about you declining your breakfast. Again.”

That made the king attentive to her conversation with his younger son, looking over to the ever so pale second prince.

“Is that true, Wooyoung?”

Seonghwa reached over to Wooyoung, putting a comforting hand on his thigh as he met the king’s eyes. “Father-“

But the king ended Seonghwa’s words with a gesture of his hand, “Wooyoung, please tell us if there is something not to your liking. Any special wishes. It does not matter. The chef we have since latest has been taught in various countries and knows dishes even unfamiliar to me. Please do never hesitate to come to any of us. To come to me.”

Wooyoung nodded under the pressure of the attention, even the servants had stopped their actions to listen into their talk. “Yes, dad”, Wooyoung said quietly, taking the fork and knife to feign his well-being. How would it come across to them if their son explained his torn heart, his tormented thoughts and his restless dreams? And all because of… one… boy…

The mashed potatoes were a good compromise for him as he ate some of them in silence, listening in on the talk his mother had started with Seonghwa and Hongjoong.

It was just a bit later when a knock appeared. Wooyoung’s ears perked up at that, head lifting in hopes that were crushed just a second later as the doors were opened for someone else. Usually, Wooyoung was more than happy to see Jongho. But right now… he would have wished to see someone else.

Wait…

Jongho?

The prince’s expression turned into a deep frown as Jongho came to a halt in front of their dining table, bowing in politeness – his dark blue cape falling around his shoulders to his chest.

“My Majesty”, he greeted before he straightened, throwing a cute smile towards Wooyoung.

“Ahhhh, Choi Jongho”, the king said with a friendly expression. His own elegant clothes flared in black as he spread his arms wide. “You’ve arrived. I don’t think I need to introduce you to the rest of my family. You already seem well acquainted to most of them.”

Jongho nodded, his lavender hair caressing his eyebrows, “Indeed. I’ve met the princes multiple times at the Snowdrop ball at my hometown.”

“Oh, but please sit with us”, the queen hurried out, pointing to the empty seat next to Wooyoung. The prince’s heart stopped. B-but that was San’s seat.

Wooyoung more than threw himself onto the second chair, making big eyes as Jongho stopped abruptly.

“Uhmmm…”, Wooyoung muttered, already growing hot in his weird, not thought-through action. “I-isn’t San coming? I think he would be more comfortable sitting with me, no?”

His mother gave him a cute expression, totally charmed by Wooyoung’s innocent eyes – caught like a deer in the eyes of a hunter.

“Oh dear. Yes, of course. However, his advisor Yunho has been here before you. San caught a flu. He will not come see us today. I have talked with our physician, and it seems that a bad fever has a grip on the poor boy.”

What?

Wooyoung’s arms fell limb on his side, sinking into his chair, “What?”

“You did not know?”, the queen continued, the corners of her lips falling. “You should visit him, Wooyoung. It would surely make him feel better to see you.”

Jongho lowered himself onto the chair next to Wooyoung with an apologetic face, ducking his head slightly as he took off his cape.

San is sick? Since when? Wooyoung had thought that San didn’t come to him all those days because of their fight and Wooyoung definitely wouldn’t be the first one to engage with him again. Why should he? San should do it. Yes, but… what if San couldn’t? Has he really caught a bad fever? Maybe he was suffering alone all day? The chambers weren’t that warm even with the furnaces and fireplaces on full fire. What if he was shivering and shaking. What if he was also waiting for Wooyoung to come?

Wooyoung rubbed at his chest. What a weird feeling.

“I don’t think I’ll eat more. If you’ll excuse me-“, Wooyoung said in a rush but his mother interrupted him.

“Wait! Please wait, Wooyoung. Sit with us for a bit longer. Jongho is here for a reason and your father and I want to inform Seonghwa and you about it rather sooner than later.”

Wooyoung sat back down, nodding. He couldn’t help the way his heart was slamming against his ribcage though. Something about not knowing how San was doing but knowing that he was unwell was nerve-wracking. Not that he was going to give him a visit. Or maybe he was? Maybe he would just pace around in front of his room? Give a quick glance through the lock? Climb the balcony of his chamber? Just to get a… a little glimpse. A reassurance. Yes! Wooyoung just needed a reassurance.

The king’s baritone voice was ringing in the hall, “It may come as a surprise for you to see Jongho here. Marigold – after all – is still a day full of travel away. As you might know, Jongho belongs to a brigade of knights fighting in various regions of Azalea. His skills in tactics and fights are extraordinary as it is of his members.”

Jongho nodded, “As I heard that the royal family had been threatened in their own home, I could not sit by idly. I offered my additional protection for the family.”

“Additional protection?”, Seonghwa asked with a risen eyebrow, “Is guard Junhyo not enough?”

The king rubbed his stubble chin, “Indeed we have a solid army of guards already at our palace. Nonetheless, someone managed to sneak in – we can’t be careful enough.”

Hongjoong snickered, “Oh, Junhyo will hate that.”

Seonghwa joined in the chuckle. If their head guard was one thing, then it was prideful. Another guard in the castle? Probably the worst humiliation imaginable.

Wooyoung sighed as he had enough from this boring talk. Weren’t they done yet?

“Jongho will stay for unforeseen time at the castle.”

That… did perk up Wooyoung’s interest. He looked up to his dad. “He will stay?”

The king nodded, gesturing to the table, “He will and to celebrate his arrival – please dig in. We have plenty from where it comes from.”

The knight smiled and started to eat with courtesy, complimenting every single thing he tasted.

“I apologise deeply, but…”, Wooyoung started again, pulling back with his chair. A loud screech made him tense up, shoulders keying up, as his chair was anything but quiet. “I just learned of San’s condition, and I feel restless not knowing how he is faring.” His expression was beaten, and his shoulders slumped down after the initial tension. He had stopped the worthless fight with himself. Saying the truth out loud felt good once in a while.

The king and queen exchanged a knowing look. The same one Seonghwa and Hongjoong had. Only Jongho wiped his head left and right, not understanding what was going on.

“San? Choi San, who I met at the ball?”, Jongho asked with interest.

“Yeah, he is my-“, Wooyoung started but his mother clapped her hands.

“Wooyoung’s suitor!”

The words made Jongho nearly choke as he spit out bits of his potatoes. “My apologies”, he said in embarrassment, reaching for a handkerchief.

Wooyoung bit back a snarky comment to his mother as he didn’t wish to be disobedient or in any way mean towards her, especially in front of someone outside the family, who could interpret things differently. Of course, Jongho was a friend, but the worst enemies were always once friends. So, Wooyoung bit back his opinion.

“I’ll be catching up with you later. Thank you for the gathering and organisation, mum. Nice to see you again too, Jongho”, Wooyoung smiled – this time real. “I can’t wait to spend more time with you! And now that you are here, you can even spare with my brother, Hongjoong, and San! Maybe if you ask kindly, you can have a sparring duel with head guard Junhyo, although he might need some time to warm up to you.”

With that Wooyoung bowed, missing Jongho’s disappointed and hurt gaze flashing by before he ran off. This time the guards at the door were faster and gave him an amused glint as they held it open for the leaving prince.

His steps echoed in the halls so empty – sometimes he felt like it must have been so different back when they had been children. His shoes clacked on the clean surface, like a mirror reflecting. White light glimmered through the patterned and milky glass of windows to his left. It didn’t take a full minute before he reached San’s chambers. His breaths were uneven, his chest rose and fell, rose and fell. He lifted his hand to knock but backed away immediately. Was this really right?

Visiting people who fell sick was of course an act of courtesy and care, however, it was also a vulnerable one. What if San didn’t trust him in that way?

Wooyoung gripped his black curls.

Nonsense! San was San. San was his best friend. It wasn’t the first time he had seen him sick or vice versa.

And still… Wooyoung knocked timidly.

The door creaked open to a dimmed room. Thick air streamed out, making the prince crunch his nose.

“Sannie?”, he asked ever so softly as he had both his hands on the door, looking carefully around it. The light of the sun was dimly shining through the curtains and blinds. They must have called for some servants to install the special blinds they always used for the warmest of summer days to sleep better. However, the lack of fresh air made the prince choke on nothing.

There was no response too, although he could clearly see someone’s form beneath the blankets.

“I’m coming in, alright?”, he continued to say into nothing as he entered. His steps were dragged, barely leaving the ground as he nibbled on his lips. As he reached the bed, he let out a deep sigh.

San had his eyes closed; lips parted as he seemed to sleep. His hair looked damped, some sweat glistening on his forehead. The blankets were draped warmly over his body, drowning the muscles of steel beneath fluff and furs. Wooyoung went over to the window, stemming up the blinds slowly before opening the windows. The chirping of great tits was heard and Wooyoung smiled as one of the birds landed right next to him on the balustrade on the neighbouring balcony.

The slightest of rustling, of movement, made him turn with wide eyes. He stared at San, who was still sleeping, eyes closed, making Wooyoung sigh in relief.

He took one of the chairs at the side of the bed, sitting down where a bucket of water was situated. “Whoever’s assignment it was to care for you, they abandoned it, it seems”, Wooyoung hissed, before rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. He reached for the cold, wet cloth laying in the bucket of water before leaning closer.

Wooyoung blushed.

Something about being that close to San, face-to-face, while he was sleeping was so…

So…

The prince took a deep breath. Calm yourself, Park Wooyoung, he scolded himself, before placing the cloth on San’s forehead with shaking fingers. He wiped San’s hair out of his face and held it up, secretly loving the way it looked all clued down on his forehead. It made him look more like the boy he had been when he was 15; when they had been nothing but friends and not when the mere presence of him made Wooyoung feel like his heart caught a dangerous disease.

Wooyoung felt the heat radiate from his skin, making his fingers trail down his temples and cheeks.

“Why are you sick, Sannie?”, he whined with a pout. “Was it because you gave me your jacket at the ball? I told you not to…” the last word was a hiss, getting quieter and quieter with the second. “So selfless…”

Just as Wooyoung looked back to San, he froze. He looked into slightly cracked eyes, hazed by fever and sickness as they searched Wooyoung’s face.

Wooyoung wanted to scream, to pull his hands back, to yell, to rush out the room. But he did none of that. He just stayed like that – hand on San’s cheek.

“Woo?”

San’s raspy, hoarse voice shot an arrow through his heart.

“You are sick, idiot”, Wooyoung grumbled, letting himself fall back into the chair, before getting up to get a glass of water from the table on the side. “No talking for you.”

San tiredly followed Wooyoung with his eyes.

“Drink that”, Wooyoung said coldly, offering the glass of water.

“Why are you here?”, San asked instead, barely moving his mouth as he reached for the glass, holding it with both hands to not let it fall.

Wooyoung rolled his eyes as he sat down again, helping San sit up before upholstering his pillow, “You are sick. Someone must care for you.”

That information was not what San expected as he spit the water back in his glass, “You mustn’t“

“Oh, shush!”

Wooyoung gave him a hard stare and San wanted to say something, complain further as Wooyoung was surely not obliged to… but then San saw his rolled-up sleeves, his frown and his restless hands playing with the fabric of his trousers.

Even though San felt like burning in a ravishing fire, he felt even warmer at the knowledge that Wooyoung… was worried.

He let the thought simmer through his heart with a soft smile, hiding it behind the glass of water. His happy smile wasn’t lasting long though as the cold, wet cloth was slapped into his face again.

“Lay down, you’re sick.”

“You were the one pulling me to sit?”, San whined as he sighed heavily. The room was already spinning again.

“Don’t talk back to me. Get well fast.”

San gave Wooyoung the glass back before snuggling into the blankets again. “Why do you want me to get better soon?”, San asked slurred, “I thought you don’t wanna talk to me anymore?” His words drowned in his blankets, and he closed his eyes again, so he didn’t need to see Wooyoung’s expression mixed of upset and worry anymore. Two expressions the warrior didn’t want to see on his handsome face.

Sleep pulled San in before he heard an answer and maybe San never got an answer at all.

The prince played nervously with the sleeves of his shirt, pulling them back down and all the way over his fingers to hide their shaking. He himself couldn’t explain what he wanted. Wooyoung knew that he knew nothing of his feelings. If he didn’t know what his heart desired, how should he convey that in words? Luckily, San had fallen asleep, making Wooyoung feel lighter again. His hard façade crumbled down to a frown of worry. Once again, his fingers reached out, caressing the dark strands out of his face.

“Why do I want you to be better?”, Wooyoung repeated San’s question into the room. The skin of the warrior felt so soft on his fingertips. A little smile grazed Wooyoung’s lips, eyes full of dreams, of almond’s blossom covering the streets of their gardens. His heart beat higher at the memories flashing his mind and Wooyoung felt a weird sting. “I guess, I…”, Wooyoung voiced but words trailed into nothingness as his fingers had wandered over his friend’s face, reaching his cherry lips. They felt so soft against the touch of his fingertips.

Wooyoung closed his eyes, sighing as he let himself fall back into the chair frustrated. He opened his grey eyes to look at the ceiling decorated in paintings and marble patterns tiredly.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

When Wooyoung blinked his eyes open there was white and pink. Bits of snows trailed on the sides, and he could swear that it hadn’t snowed when they left before. However, now there was a slight powder falling from the sky and Wooyoung had to concentrate until the blurred picture took a form.

“Huh?”, he voiced weakly as he was moving but could feel his body being still.

At the ring of his voice, he felt someone tighten their grip around his back and knee. Someone was carrying him.

“Why did you hide from me that you are sick?”

As soon as Wooyoung recognised the voice to be San’s he let the tension fall out of his body, head slowly moving to see up into his face. San’s dark brown eyes nearly appeared black in the lowering afternoon sun.

The little prince was ready to talk back. He wasn’t that sick and he wanted to spend time with San since the warrior had been visiting his parents in his hometown for a week and was just back to the royal palace. Some cold could not stop him, or at least that was what Wooyoung’s thought. All the snarky remarks died down in his throat though as San’s hard grimace still remained on his face, lips moving numbly.

“I thought my heart stops as I watched you faint just now. You had a little sway in all your steps and it was true that your skin felt warmer than I remember when we hugged in the morning of my arrival. I should have realised sooner. I’m so sorry.” It was just a mumble.

Wooyoung couldn’t bear hearing those words, reaching up to touch San’s cheek lightly. It seemed as though San had not really realised that he had been awake as he jumped out of his skin.

Both Wooyoung and San startled, the prince pulled back his hand to his chest, while San came to an abrupt halt. They both stared into their widened eyes. San was the first to calm down his racing heart, taking a deep breath before he continued his walk, tightening his arms more around Wooyoung’s body.

“You’re awake.” San sounded reserved, not looking at Wooyoung anymore as he carried him forth. They were on their way back to the castle.

“I fainted?”, Wooyoung asked weakly. He did feel lightheaded all the way outside. There had been dark spots sizzling at the sides of his vision like thousands of bugs, but he had been fine – setting one confident step after another into the ankle-deep snow to meet his childhood friend. But maybe he… hadn’t been.

Wooyoung watched San blushing, making the noble boy look so pretty in the same shades of the blossoming trees. “You should have told me that you are feeling unwell. We could have gone to watch the almond petals another day.”

Again, Wooyoung felt the world spin at the edges, spots painting his vision as the colours of San’s tanned skin and the grey sky got mixed together. His head fell back tired, unable to support it any longer.

Black eyes trailed down to him, inspecting his face with a worried frown before accelerating his steps. “Your health is the very first priority, my prince. By… the goddess of spring, you are of royal blood, Wooyoung. You should handle your health with more worth.”

The 14-year-old boy sighed. Wooyoung was probably sicker from the countless prohibitions all his life than from this fever. He had no heart to talk back to his best friend though and settled into his hold more comfortably. San wouldn’t let him down and walk on his own anyways, even if he asked for it.

Although San always appeared quite small and fragile like Wooyoung, he was very protective of his friends. For some reason, San was obsessed with keeping the royal blood safe – Wooyoung’s royal blood to be exact – at least so he thought, since the prince couldn’t explain to himself otherwise why San would watch every of his steps so carefully. Always holding out a hand and then a second, to make sure Wooyoung had something to hold when needed.

Wooyoung sighed in relief as a cold breeze washed over them, cooling off his burning skin. He closed his eyes before the swirls of colour made him lose his mind.

“Persephone.”

“Hm?”, San hummed as he didn’t get the word in the rustling of the almond’s flowers. They already passed the last benches. Wooyoung faintly heard voices in the nearby.

“The goddess of spring… Persephone.”

Wooyoung listened to the crackling snow as San trudged towards the nearest archway leading to the yard harbouring the training’s field. The sound combined with the singing of a blue tit made Wooyoung feel more at peace.

“We learned that last lesson?”

The prince felt too weak to nod, so he just hummed – hoping the boy carrying him would get it. The sound of snow beneath San’s feet disappeared and Wooyoung wondered where they were heading. Probably to his chamber to lay him down…

“Do you think it is the same goddess that made us meet in our first spring?”

Wooyoung’s words were slurred, “Not first spring… dummy…”

San didn’t answer as he probably did not understand his tired mumble in his warm scarf.

Against Wooyoung’s expectations, he did hear it though. Choosing not to answer as he was tired of bickering about it. For San, their meeting between the flowers of almond trees – seven years back – had been his first spring. His parents had always told him how spring was the beginning of it all. The blossom of feelings and the wakening of something new.

When San had laid eyes on Wooyoung for the first time, there was a new feeling blooming in his chest. Something he had never known to slumber there. But it felt as if it had just waited. Such a warm and familiar feeling.

As soon as he entered the courtyard, he saw the king talk with some guards at the side. Before he could even raise his voice, the king found the two boys with his eyes, pushing his sword against the nearest guard’s chest, running over with a panic-stricken face.

San had always admired the king. His black hair had always reached his shoulder blades, shimmering like silk. It was the same hair Wooyoung wore to his waist, and he had touched it often enough to know of its tender texture. Even the eyes – as grey as the unruly oceans – came from him. The man wore a light armour, only on his legs and shoulders, where also a black cape was pinned on. The light jog made the fabric swirl like the wings of a raven, black like the hair to his back. The closer he came the better San saw the beard around his lips, the wrinkles set between his eyebrows, the years engraved in his gaze.

“What happened?”, the king asked as soon as he was only a few steps away.

“Wooyoung is sick. He fainted.”

San looked down into his arms and it seemed as if Wooyoung had lost the fight against his fever and had fallen asleep as his chest rose and fell in calm patterns.

“By heaven”, the king breathed as he took his son out of the boy’s arms into his own. Sadness and worry swam in the king’s eyes and just when he saw him watch over Wooyoung with so much love and concern it made San’s chest sting a little. With all the fun San had with Wooyoung studying at the palace, he sometimes forgot that the life at the castle had never been his and just a privilege given to him as benefit of his father’s good friendship to the king. It wasn’t his home.

The guards that had been talking to the king rushed closer to see what happened but got ordered to get the physician to Wooyoung’s room.

“Wooyoung, you have been sick...?”, the king asked with a voice so soft addressed to the sleeping child in his arm – something he had only reserved for his second son. “Why didn’t you tell me, Wooyoung… Is it because your mother and brother are gone… You should know that you can come to me… Always.”

Something about the way the king spoke, hurt San as he rushed after the king’s hurried pace. If San thought about it – he never really remembered Wooyoung going a lot to his father when he had a problem, always seeking San or Seonghwa first. San had always thought of the king as ruthless and cold, but just a year living at the castle had taught him the contrary. King Park was full of love, but only to the ones who deserved it. And Wooyoung deserved all of it and even more.

“Thank you for looking after him, San.”

The boy jumped at the sudden words directed his way. “I always do, your Majesty.” San straightened up a bit more, held his breath as the king looked his way.

Just as they reached Wooyoung’s door – the king with his son safely in his arms looking to San – there was something moving in the man’s chest. Something about that boy’s gaze had touched his heart.

The physician rushed by, already assessing the situation as he laid eyes on the sick prince carried by the king. He opened the door, holding it for the king to enter. However, King Park looked at San, still holding eye contact so bravely. He knew that San was a shy kid. Noble and friendly. And yet, he always felt like things were different when it came to Wooyoung. The king grunted making the boy widen his eyes in surprise.

“San, you are not… perhaps thinking of ever getting married, do you?”

San’s lips parted at that, left with no voice and in the coldness of the hallway as the king entered the room and the physician closed it with a sorrowful expression towards San.

For a second the words rung in his head, and in the next he had already forgotten them as he ran his way back to his own chambers to collect some plush toys that Wooyoung could need to recover faster.

In the meantime, the king settled onto the bed of his son, laying Wooyoung into the safe covers of his blankets. His long silky black hair sprawled around his body, so long – it always wrapped the boy like a veil. The king pressed a hand to his son’s forehead, looking pained at the way his skin burnt up. Oh, how much he wished Wooyoung would talk to him as lively as he had when he had been just a little boy. He was prepared to lose his second son’s interest as much as Seonghwa did. They were just growing up. But Wooyoung had always been closer with his father than his mother and although the king was busy, he missed his time with his youngest so dearly.

He took Wooyoung’s hand while the physician got to work. His eyes never left Wooyoung’s closed eyes. “You don’t need me because you found him, don’t you? You found someone else you could rely on.”

Before the physician planted a cold towel on the prince’s forehead the king made sure to lean down and press a little kiss onto his son’s forehead. “I guess… I’m the one who needs to learn how to let go.” The physician gave the king a saddened look, squeezing the king’s shoulder.

“Children always grow up faster than we want them to.”

The king chuckled but couldn’t keep his eyes from tearing up. His hand caressed the knuckles of his son softly, smiling as Wooyoung blinked awake in a fever haze.

“They do.”

Wooyoung looked confused, eyes searching around in the room before they landed on his father. He smiled up at him before he seemed to remember something, looking around again. He seemed to be lost as he looked back to the king.

“San carried me here?”

The king patted the boy’s black hair, looking into the eyes mirroring his own.

“San carried you here.”

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The memories were so much more vivid since San was back. Of course, Wooyoung would never forget those years. He cuddled more into his white blanket, pulling his knees closer, sitting on the comfortable brown armchair. The leather scrunched in his moves. “We’ve known each other since so so long… sometimes I forget what all had been”, he murmured. The prince looked so small in his little ball of fluff in the corner of his chambers. He had been with San until the dawn of night, giggling at the weird things San whispered in his fever. Although he was quite cute when he was whiny like that, Wooyoung hoped that he would be better by tomorrow. He missed his San.

A knock on the door made Wooyoung throw a pillow. “Yeosang, I’m not hungry. Tell them I already had something or something simil-“ He lost his sentence as not the blonde hair of his servant came through the door but black silky long hair mixed with silver streaks.

“Dad…”

Wooyoung tried to get out of the blanket but without much success. It must have looked like a kitten being caught in a cloth way bigger than its own body. The king laughed, putting a little plate of fruits and nuts to the side.

“I thought I’d get you something to eat”, the king started as he carefully took the blanket from Wooyoung’s head and shoulders, pushing his hair out of his face and behind his ears. “Since you keep not eating.”

That made Wooyoung widen his eyes before averting his gaze. His father stood up and walked over to sit on Wooyoung’s bed. He patted his side until Wooyoung trudged over with lowered head.

It was unusual for the two of them to be all alone. Of course, Wooyoung always loved his father but it had just become so rare for him to visit him. The king must have thought the same and took one of Wooyoung’s smaller hands. “Speak to me Wooyoung. The last time you weren’t eating was when San and you got separated and when Seonghwa had to head to war. Why now?”

Should I tell him? Wooyoung bit his tongue. Would he understand? Wooyoung was certain that his father would love him regardless. King Park had always been extra protective about him since Seonghwa had always been the older and more reliable one. They all kept an eye on Wooyoung like a baby chick that could not even fly yet.

If Wooyoung was quite honest, he wasn’t really sure… why… He just knew that it all had the same cause. A bitter grunt left his lips, a humourless chuckle, “I guess… It may be because San is back.”

Immediately the king tensed, “Wait. Did he do something? Wooyoung… God protect him if he hurt you or touched you.”

“Dad-“

“Did he say something about your hair? I know you’ve been not quite decisive with it. Or was it the dresses? You only started wearing them often after San left? I never thought of San as someone who would change that much, but if he treats you incorrectly, we will get rid of him without hesi-“

“Father!”, Wooyoung giggled, grabbing the king’s hands. “No not at all”, Wooyoung shook his head with a smile.

A frown settled on the elder’s face before it turned to confusion, “Then… what is it?”

Wooyoung sighed, playing with his father’s fingers. They were so much longer than Wooyoung’s. “I believe it to be quite the contrary. I can’t eat because San is back. I’m always so… nervous. So full of emotions, regardless of good or bad. I feel everything so much more. I don’t feel well when he’s with me, making me stumble over my own feet, hands shaking and words a stuttered mess. But when he’s not with me, when I don’t know where he is or how he is, I feel like my chest folds in itself, imploding because of the worry that nests there. Whatever I do…” Wooyoung gripped for his hair, tearing. “It all feels so right and so wrong. I was so excited to have my best friend back but now that we spent so many days together again and… and San had… he has changed s-so much. Like, he’s huge, dad! I-“

While Wooyoung was talking himself in a frenzy, the king just smiled. Once again, he saw all those things Wooyoung had inherited from his mother and also from himself. But nonetheless, everything Wooyoung said, all he described was like a poem about his own love life. He knew the feelings, knew the signs. It must be scary though… when it was entirely new.

“You must like him a lot.”

Wooyoung grew quiet. What!? Yeah, obviously… or, well… His heart hammered in his chest as he looked to his father who didn’t look upset in any way. He almost looked like he had known for so long. Wooyoung gripped the front of his shirt, tearing a bit in order to get the pressure of his chest. In vain. “I am scared.” The whisper was like shattering glass in the silence and it made Wooyoung flinch that he had said it out loud.

Arms reached for Wooyoung and before the boy knew it, he was pressed against the king’s chest. “There’s nothing to be scared of, Wooyoung. Just let your heart guide you – nobody but you can say if it feels wrong or right. I won’t interfere in any of such things as long as I see that my beloved son is treated well and happy. You have been given some months with San and it’s yours to choose how. Nobody else’s, hm?”

Wooyoung nodded, further hiding into the embrace as he didn’t want to let go. Sometimes he missed the old times he had spent with his father hours after hours playing hide and seek and catch around the courtyard. The guards had always pretended to be fighting with him, playing defeated and laying on the ground begging for mercy. Wooyoung had always been so loved. The people around him had always given him so much.

Pouting, Wooyoung retreated, stood up and trudged to the plate before he sat down next to his father again. “Don’t tell Yeosang that I ate in bed”, Wooyoung shrugged before he started munching on the green grapes.

Wooyoung ducked away as the king ruffled his hair slightly. “Anything as long as you eat.”

The next day, Wooyoung felt better. The morning sun greeted him like the golden shimmer of the kitchen’s utensils. He had eaten his breakfast in record time, leaving Yeosang baffled in his chambers as he dashed off in a fluffy white oversized sweater. It reached almost to his knees as he waved over his shoulder and told his servant that he’d be visiting San again.

The guards all wore a smile at the energetic behaviour of the prince, all greeting and bowing to him. Wooyoung sing-sang a ‘good morning!’ after another in the halls filled with morning sun as he nearly missed San’s door. “Oooff”, he said as he just barely came to a halt. This time he didn’t knock, just grabbing the knob to barge in, to see if San was better. Hopefully! Hopefully he was!

Just as he was about to open, someone pulled from the inside though and Wooyoung stumbled forward, suddenly being face-to-face with…

Wooyoung blushed hard as he did a double take at the toned exposed skin. San looked down to Wooyoung who was at the level of his stomach, staring wide-eyed at his abs.

San quickly pulled the shirt close, while Wooyoung straightened to a stand unable to look San into his eyes.

They both looked different directions, both mumbling muted apologies as they tried to control the blood rushing to their ears until they finally were able to find words again.

“I want to talk to you-“

“I have something to say-“

Both shrieked at their simultaneously spoken words, looking at each other in surprise.

“Alright, you first-“

“You can start-“

Again, but now their looks got a glint of panic and fright.

“You start”, San dared to say but Wooyoung shook his head, pushing San backwards into his room again making the boy surprised. “Wooyoung?!”

Wooyoung hissed at the guards nearby chuckling at them while closing the door, “Don’t get any wrong ideas”, he said what made San blush even more. Damned be Park Wooyoung’s flirty nature. The prince slapped a hand onto San’s forehead to check his temperature, making San wince.

The lack of heat made Wooyoung’s hard expression soften though. “Alright. Perfect”, he chirped happily. “Now, what do you want to tell me?”

“You can start…”, San said timidly, sitting on his couch, Wooyoung right on his heels.

“No. No, please. Please start.”

Both boys stayed quiet, just looking at each other before it blurted out of them at the same time.

“I’m sorry!”

Again – they looked at each other surprised but then they started to laugh. It was always so nice with San, Wooyoung had to admit it. Just casually sitting on the couch next to him, giggling in his hand while pulling his shoulders up. He loved the way San made him feel.

“What are you sorry for?”, Wooyoung asked, sliding his legs crossed before pulling his sweater’s sleeves like paws over his hands.

San scratched the back of his neck, “Back at the ball” He sighed. “I never meant to cage you like that. If there is one thing that should never be taken away from Prince Park Wooyoung – it’s his freedom. I apologise for rendering you so helpless and to have such a choking supervision over you. I guess my head likes to think of you weaker than you are. But you are strong and dependable. You know how to handle situations and yourself. I want to apologise for ever questioning that in the slightest through my actions. And I’m sorry that I hurt you that night.”

Wooyoung froze at the long confession. San must have thought about it a lot, making the prince feel even worse. There was no need for San to be so harsh to himself. Yes, he was indeed going a bit overboard, but Wooyoung knew that nothing San did was of bad intentions.

Unexpectedly, Wooyoung grabbed San’s hands. The sharp intake of a breath escaped the prince’s mouth as he just held his hands softly. Skin to skin. Finally. San smiled at the way Wooyoung trailed his thumb over San’s knuckles.

“Nothing to be sorry for – I do not hold any grudges.”

The sheepish gaze on San’s face was almost funny to the prince. So hesitant and careful… As if he was scared beyond worlds to lose Wooyoung. Through such a quarrel? Not in a hundred years. San must do something worse than that.

“And what are you sorry for?”, San whispered, looking at their intertwined hands.

Wooyoung pulled his shoulders up, before releasing a pent-up breath. “I am sorry for pushing you away in a moment of impatience. You didn’t deserve to be screamed at when all you’ve done was trying to protect me. In all honesty, it never really was your actions that angered me.” Wooyoung’s hair fell into his eyes, grateful for the cover.

The prince didn’t continue, making San lean forward to look at his eyes through the cover of his hair. He couldn’t though, so he risked the loss of skin contact to wipe some of the dark hair to the side. “Hey…”

Wooyoung swallowed, his eyes wet with all those things he wished to say but didn’t dare to. So instead, he reached for San’s hand again, holding both before pressing their holding ones against his eyes.

He couldn’t go with his father’s advice – Wooyoung did not yet know what his heart desired.

“Wooyoung?”, San asked but it sounded unhappy. Probably worried with the slight snivel that came from Wooyoung.

“I’m fine”, the prince said, suddenly completely sobered up, leaning back and lowering their hands again. “Just a bit tired.”

“Tired?”, San looked worried. “How much sleep did you get? I am worried for the pale complexion of your face.”

Wooyoung flinched as if San had punched him. Taking care of his own body was a hassle sometimes but in order to make San stop worrying about him it was probably good to listen to Yeosang once in a while.

“I should get some sleep then…”, Wooyoung said with his mind absent just looking at their hands and thinking… “Hey, San?”

San hummed.

“Do you want to give it a chance?”

San felt his blood froze.

Wooyoung caressed San’s hands again only looking at them with a faint smile. “It’s been years that we’ve seen each other and now that you’re back and that we’ve been given some time… Do you…?”

Wooyoung couldn’t continue. A furious blush made its way onto his cheeks, and he didn’t know why he even started talking about it. Stupid! Stupid! His thoughts were all over the place. He shook his head, scooting closer before hugging San’s waist; face crushed into his chest.

“Do you mind if I take my nap here with you?” Wooyoung’s blush was getting worse and worse the second, but asking to stay here to sleep was less troublesome as exploring his feelings for his childhood friend directly face-to-face. So, he kept hiding in San’s chest.

The older boy looked flustered. Hands hovering over Wooyoung’s fluffy form. The sweater looked so soft as not to touch it but San already ran so hot – only because Wooyoung leaned into him like that.

“I- ahrm…”, he started. He had a feeling that there was something else. Or maybe it was just him hoping… that there was something else that Wooyoung wanted to say. “Yes, of course you can. Do you want to stay here or move to the bed-?”

“Here!”, Wooyoung squeaked, pulling San closer who just nodded.

After some while, San also got comfortable, pulling Wooyoung close who already looked like he’d be in dreamland every second. With the prince in his arms, he laid down, carefully keeping him on top of him while his hands were firmly around his waist. “Wooyoung?”, San asked, as he draw circles in the prince’s sweater at his back.

“Hm?”

San smiled, “Are we good again?”

“We were never not good, you idiot. Just bickered, hm?”

A snicker escaped San. Typical.

“Right…”

San felt the grips of sleep also on his mind, already losing track of reality and dream when he heard Wooyoung’s soft voice again.

“Do you want to… spend some more time together from now on… like… alone? Just the two of us…?”

San kept drawing circles. Eyes closed as he wondered if he just imagined that as a result of his dream or if Wooyoung really asked to spend more time with just him. It almost sounded as if Wooyoung was now reversing their roles and trying to court San.

The warrior chuckled, not even thinking about how weird it could be. “I would love nothing more”, he murmured tiredly, pulling Wooyoung closer and nuzzling his nose into the prince’s soft hair. It smelled so good. Like fresh peaches.

Peaches…

San dreamt of a garden full of blossoming peaches, young birds singing and an angel with long hair plucking flowers although forbidden. The smile made San forgive the angel for their impudence and he joined in the activity. They built hand-tied bouquets shining in warm colours. The warrior-son always made sure to put nine flowers into the bouquet and the tenth into the angel’s hair. He laughed. Smile hidden behind a white gloved hand. Eyes of onyx marbles shimmering in the golden rays of sun. The pollen of primroses and dandelions luring buzzing bees that made the angel laugh.

San wondered which god had sent that gorgeous creature.

He took his hand, feeling oh so familiar as they locked their fingers together.

Must have been Persephone’s doing.

Chapter Text

Wooyoung picked at his pale green blouse. He wondered if it was still too cold for the lace fabric as he was sure that if someone squinted hard enough, they could see his skin and body shine through it. His hair was in a little ponytail with flowery pins of the same colour and a blossom rose. Wooyoung despised jewellery on his skin - it itched and irritated him - but at least he didn’t feel so with his hair. Nothing that could remind him of…

A thrush made Wooyoung jump as it flapped with its black wings from one of the sleeping rose bushes next to him. Wooyoung tried to calm his heart. What made him so nervous anyways? The prospect of going somewhere with San alone? No… Not that wasn’t it. Haha no… never. Wooyoung held the quivering smile on his lips. It one hundred percent was, and he was a failure faking it. He sighed as he crouched to one of the flower beds. Violet and white crocus swayed in the warm wind. It was funny how much the feeling of the air changed with the transgression from February to March. Wooyoung looked up to the trees full of blossoming green and disappearing white. The time of the almond trees was slowly nearing its end. But that meant that the peaches would arise soon, brimming in all that lush pink that Wooyoung loved so much.

“Thinking about me?”

Wooyoung grinned at the voice, turning. “Kind of.”

San had a dimple smile ready for Wooyoung. It did not go by the prince how much San had dressed up for the occasion of spending time with him alone and it made Wooyoung swallow.

The dark blue shirt was everything but simple as it glittered in the finest lines of gold around the middle of his chest. There was soft rushing at his sleeves’ ends and a belt of satin around his tiny waist. Wooyoung looked away the second he felt his cheeks burn.

“You’re looking good”, he rasped out, hugging his own arms in order to hide his rather plane outfit, but it seemed as if his effort was to no avail as San stepped up and took his hands, making them unfold.

“I could never even reach near the beauty of you, Wooyoung. But…”, a little half smile appeared, “I sure try.”

Goosebumps. Everything San said, everything he did – it gave him goosebumps.

They had met up to walk through the edges of the forest that connected to the outskirts of their royal garden. It had finally gotten warmer to an extent where being outside in lighter clothes wasn’t a risk of health anymore. Since San had been sick, they had been both less awkward around each other. Wooyoung couldn’t really say why. There was just something about the way San held his hand right now and walked with him through the barren dirt of the woods’ awakening, something about his smile, about his warmth – something that Wooyoung had missed for a very long time. Something he had forbidden himself to feel and yet even his father had advised to give those feelings a listen.

It was scary at first. And it was still scary. But with San at his side… things… always had been less scary.

“Is your cold completely gone?”, Wooyoung asked tentatively, feeling San’s fingers caress his cold hands and warming them. It was so natural and yet weird for them to hold hands. They had done it a lot when they were younger, but since San had been back, it all felt different in certain ways. More… intimate.

“There’s no chance my body would still be plagued by it when I have a pretty prince kiss the pain away.”

Wooyoung blushed, “I did not kiss you.”

San chuckled, “As far as I remember, I did receive a kiss on my forehead.”

An uncomfortable coldness invaded the prince’s body.

“As far as I remember, you were asleep”, Wooyoung gave San a judging look. Another chuckle bubbled out of the warrior’s chest and instead of an answer, he pulled Wooyoung closer, making the boy go silent as he was pressed chest to chest with San.

Everything in Wooyoung wanted to squeal, to squeak, to disappear and yet to never back away. His eyes were traveling San’s face as were his until they found each other.

“So…”, San raised his eyebrow, expression curious and kind and not teasing at all, “I did get a kiss?”

Wooyoung’s heart felt like exploding being so close to San. He could feel his breath on his face, felt the way San’s hands held his waist at the back so softly and without pressure to it. It was San’s presence alone that pulled him close and made him unable to take a step back and regain his posture.

Wooyoung couldn’t answer, cheeks tainted a deep pink like the soon-to-be peaches’ blossom.

A corner of San’s mouth lifted, “Can I get one again?” He laid his head to the side, his brown eyes full of nothing but fondness and honesty.

As Wooyoung continued to stay quiet - his arms and hands pressed tightly to his own chest in order to not touch San - San let go. He brought two steps of distance between them. His smile looked kind of pained as he pulled his hands from Wooyoung’s back. “I’m just joking.” It was a poor attempt to get the frightened expression out of the prince’s face. But Wooyoung was not afraid of San, he would never be. All he was scared of were his inner thoughts begging him to stand on his tip toes and lean into these lips seducing him with smiles and charming words. And on top of it all – San was certainly not joking, and it made a hot shiver run down his spine.

“Let’s continue?”, San asked, a bit of a tremble in his words, “There’s this pretty river around and there should be caves formed by the t-“ San stopped. Not only his words but also his thoughts, his heart, his whole being as he felt fingers caress his cheeks. His eyes widened into marbles as his head was pulled down a bit, soft lips gracing his forehead.

As soon as the pressure left and the hands disappeared, San’s hand flew up, touching the spot where Wooyoung had kissed him. The prince looked away, his whole face red as he tried to repress a smile.

“Sounds good”, he replied as if nothing had happened, taking San’s other hand and pulling the warrior with him.

Although Wooyoung was still unsure of what it was that was pulsing so vividly between San and him and even more unsure about where it would lead to – he knew for sure that he would take the words of his father to heart and… try.

And seeing San smile like an idiot behind him was definitely worth the attempt.

March had been working hard to make the plants grow and flowers bloom. It didn’t take long until Wooyoung heard the river splash in the distance, giving San exciting eyes. Most trees were still without leaves and the bushes sometimes tore on his clothes when they passed through a part where the path wasn’t as clear anymore, but it was all worth it when they reached a clearing. Stones towered around a patch of still frozen water – the nights were still a leftover of winter’s grasp. The grass was in shades from grey to blue to dark green. Moss grew on the sides of the stone where a little bit of water trickled down in multiple streams. Snowdrops and crocuses laid at the edges of the stones and barren trees. Further down were some fallen trees, laying over the parts of the river that were flowing freely, not encaged by the ice anymore.

The sun glittered in the frozen part of the river, in the white of the snowdrops and in the surface of the blades of blue grass. It was all enchanted by the mild sunlight of early spring and Wooyoung stopped San abruptly with his hand as his eyes found the crane that stood on the bank of the river opposite to them. It rested on one leg, enjoying the sun warming its feathers, eyes closed.

“Wow”, San whispered just a tad too loud, making the bird flap it’s majestic wings. Wooyoung felt the way San pulled him closer, probably an instinct to protect if the big creature would dare to step closer, but it flew off with only an echo of his wings remaining.

Both boys looked after the huge silhouette before looking at each other, giggling shyly.

“Magical, right?”, Wooyoung said with a smile as he turned to San, grasping his hands. “It’s even prettier in summer. When all the flowers come to bloom.”

San saw the violet flash at the periphery of his vision, leaving Wooyoung to himself as he crouched to get some of the crocus’. “There’s a lot of flowers already blooming though.” He plucked one, two, three and four. “Every flower deserves its time to bloom. Some are earlier, some late.” The warrior knotted the flowers together with swift motions, trained in creating a circle since he had done it so often when they were younger.

San turned, putting the flower crown carefully on Wooyoung’s head. The boy gave San a cute pout, making him chuckle.

“What?”, San asked with a little chuckle.

Wooyoung pressed his hands against his own face, taking a deep breath. San forbid himself to laugh at the flustered face of his royal companion.

Suddenly there was a small whisper heard over the water, “I missed you.”

San’s eyes widened, “But I’ve been here the whole time.”

Wooyoung shook his head, “You were gone for seven years.”

Now it was San’s time to shake his head, eyebrows drawn together. Seven years? He stepped closer, invading Wooyoung’s space as he lowered his head slightly, stopping as he realised how close their lips were coming. His dark eyes wandered over all the little details of the prince, lingering on his mole underneath his eye. Carefully, his thumb traced up, touching the dot ever so softly before he gave Wooyoung a slight smile.

“But I’ve always been here”, he let his hand fall to Wooyoung’s chest, tapping his left side, “Right here, no?”

It was that moment, San realised the tremble in Wooyoung’s breath, the chattering teeth, the fearful blinking of his eyes that suddenly glimmered with tears.

“Of course!”, Wooyoung smiled, pressing his eyes into crescents and San couldn’t help himself but feel like it was fake. He wanted to grasp his cheeks, ask what was wrong because something certainly was.

However… Wooyoung stepped away, leaving San to himself. The warrior sighed. Oh, how he wished he could give into his deepest desires. How he wished he could just go after him, scoop him in his arms and kiss him breathless. The image of them kissing burnt into his head and made the warrior shook it relentlessly. There were things that should stay in the land of dreams for good. Things – that San had to remind himself – would never happen. Not like that. Not when they were both walking around each other like that.

“San, come!”

And yet…

Wooyoung was giggling, balancing carefully on the thin ice that San definitely had heard crack more than just once in the last five seconds. His blood ran cold, his expression petrified, heart jumping out his chest and leaving a gaping hole as his thoughts came to a pause, body moving without his orders.

No matter how much San forbid himself to feel, forbid himself to love, in all truth – he couldn’t. From the very first sight of the prince, in their very first spring – he couldn’t. No matter how much he wanted to fight against it to protect his heart, protect the scars that had taken years to heal – just a glimpse of the foxy young man with his stupid laced shirt was enough to rob San of his sanity. Was enough to make him act like a selfless fool. A lover.

“Wooah”, Wooyoung exclaimed as a part of ice he had stepped on broke away under his feet, making San almost have a heart attack as he reached out.

Wooyoung floundered with his arms a bit, finding San’s approaching arms that safely lifted him off the ice and back onto solid lands.

“No walking on the ice. Please”, San begged. The last weeks had already been bad enough for his poor heart. Today they were out to enjoy and just be with each other. He’d hate to end it because of Wooyoung having a bath and possible hypothermia.

The adorable pout on Wooyoung’s face made it ever so hard for San not to just lean in and kiss it away. To reach for his soft skin, caressing his cheeks while diving deeper into those sinfully, plum, …

“San?”

“Yes!”

Wooyoung frowned, “Yes?”

San blinked furiously, trying in vain to get a hold of the blood heating up his cheeks. The way Wooyoung’s eyes squinted down on him made it even harder to get all the pictures out of his head. I thought those images are banned to dreamland?!

Wooyoung laid his head to the side, searching his face before he seemed to realise something, eyes widening. “Were you worried for me?”

San frowned, “What do you mean? I’ve been worried for your well-being since the day we met.”

There was nothing heard but the chirping of birds and Wooyoung pretending to have  a coughing fit. San scratched his neck, looking everywhere but Wooyoung. He should watch his stupid mouth a bit more.

There was something… weird… between them. A kind of tension that had not been there when they were children. Wooyoung loved to be with San, loved it when his dark feline eyes were on him and watched each of his moves with a half-smile. When his sharp-edged face was turning his way, making his heart flutter just a bit more. San was feeling similar but would they ever say so?

Both boys were giggling as they ran onto an open lawn, let themselves fall into a patch of lush grass, glowing green in the noon’s sun. It warmed their skin. They spent their time just doing nothing, the breeze running through their hair occasionally.

Wooyoung had his eyes closed, just listening into the sounds of nature around them and San’s calm breaths. His hands wandered to his chest, feeling the pounding against his ribcage. His heart would never calm down when he was in his presence. With momentum, Wooyoung sat up, opening his eyes to meet the blades of grass.

He looked to his side, seeing San’s unmoving body, one arm behind his head, eyes closed.

Was he asleep?

Wooyoung leaned closer. And closer. Had those freckles always been at his neck? Wooyoung leaned closer. And this mole right there? And closer. And since when had San such high and defined cheek bones? Such pure skin? Such beautiful eyes. Twinkling dark…

The air caught in Wooyoung’s throat.

Wait-

Eyes!?

He wanted to flinch back; scream at the vicinity he had caused himself as he could feel the body warmth of San emit. If he concentrated on it, he even felt his breath on his lips and it made Wooyoung grasp the grass beneath him tighter.

Before Wooyoung could react though, San cupped his head, holding the prince in place. Both were just looking into each other’s eyes – waiting and waiting. But as nothing proceeded to happen, San loosened his grip, eyes dampening.

Wooyoung hastened to his feet. “I’m hiding! We’re playing hide and seek!” He dashed off before San could even sit properly.

“Wai-“, San tried to stop the prince, reaching a hand after him, but just watched as the boy ran off. San snorted as he let himself fall into the grass again.

A smile plastered on his face as he thought about before. How it felt to open his eyes to Wooyoung’s beautiful face.

San plucked a tiny flower from the side, twirling it in front of his face as he put the other arm behind his head again.

“Certainly, a sight I could get used to”, he smirked.

“Wooyoung where are you?!”, San shouted as he ducked beneath the thousandth of branches, sighing as his eyes couldn’t catch a glimpse of the prince. “You’ve won, Woo. Please come out!”

San heard nothing but the leaves and branches beneath his feet complain as he turned in circles. Where had he gone hiding? Had he just run back to the castle for the ultimate hiding spot? However, that was childish play that not even Wooyoung would resign to.

Just as San was about to call for him again, he heard it. The soft ring of his giggle.

“You’re really bad in this game. Always had been.”

San sighed as he turned towards the direction the voice was coming from, “What should I do when your hiding spots are always that- good gracious lord.”

Everything San wanted to say, fell down as he got a glimpse of the prince sitting on the branch of a tree, legs rocking forth and back high in the air as he had both elbows rested against his knees, cheeks cupped with his hands as he looked down to San with the most bored expression.

“Wooyoung, how did you get up there?!”

Wooyoung snorted as he looked at San with a smug smile. The branch he was sitting on was twice as high as San’s height. It must have looked terrifying.

“Secretttttt”, Wooyoung rasped dryly – lips in a straight line as he stretched out the last consonant as he watched San pale more and more. The warrior was standing a bit further away but was already making his way over.

As Wooyoung had searched for a hiding spot, he had seen the rocky caves, the old trees and river’s arms – but he had also seen those slippery parts and the deep holes in the ground. Those sharp edges of rocks standing out at the sides and the bushes full of thorns waiting to tear one’s clothes open. One of those holes was just next to them and apparently not in San’s sight as the warrior rushed over.

“San, watch out!”

Wooyoung’s voice rasped at the sides of his throat, body going cold as San lost his balance on the ground.

“San!”

It was just a mere second that it took. San grunted as he fell down the edge of the rocky hole. It looked like the dried-out place of a water source at some point, now covered in gravel and dead leaves. Wooyoung watched for a second, wide eyes as San didn’t move. His body laying there in the dark of the tree’s shadows.

His mind was going in a frenzy. What should he do? What should he do? San wasn’t moving.

“San!”, he shouted again before he carefully climbed back down the tree. His hands were sweaty due to the stress and Wooyoung gritted his teeth to not lose his grip while going down. The last bit he slipped up, the rough bark of the tree scratching on his palms, but the prince couldn’t even care less. He rushed over to the edge of the hole, looking down into the opening. San laid face down on the ground. “Sannie…”, he kneeled, gripping the ground and startled as the edges of dirt broke away, making Wooyoung flinch back.

This was so dangerous. Should he get guards? He looked over his back. The forest laid in layers before him. No sight of the marble walls of the palace. Junhyo? Seonghwa? His parents?

A pained gruff made Wooyoung flinch and look back down. San’s fingers were moving slightly as he drew his hand to his body.

No. Wooyoung couldn’t just leave.

The prince put his legs forward, sliding them slightly over the edge of the dirt and rocks, looking for some roots standing out to grab. “Here I come”, he seethed through gritted teeth, a shiver running over his spine as he held on tight as he started to climb down.

The ground was everything but ideal to descend and Wooyoung caught his heart hitching to his throat more than once as he felt his feet slightly slip on the crumbling dirt. Just as he reached halfway down, San moved again, sitting up slowly with a grown. The prince heard the low curses as the warrior gently held his head in his hands. He looked lost for a second before he froze up, probably realising where he was and what happened as his head jumped up.

Wooyoung froze into an unmoved state as he saw the sickly red trickle down San’s face. It stained his skin, running over his eyebrows and eye. Wooyoung released a shaking breath, feeling the worry rise in his chest. To Wooyoung’s surprise, San looked as shocked up to him getting to his knees.

“Wooyoung! Wooyoung stop!”

Despite the warrior’s words, Wooyoung continued his way down – movement slackly and careless as he gripped from root to root, feet stepping down rock by rock until his ground moved. His fingers found no support at the cliff’s wall as the root broke away under his weight. It happened so fast that Wooyoung could not even scream, feet slipping down the rocky walls.

Wooyoung heard his name. San sounded more than scared, he sounded horrified. Wooyoung released a shaky breath as he felt a sharp pain go through his foot, crawling up all his leg as he hit the ground. It wasn’t nearly as high as San had fallen but it was enough to send a shockwave through Wooyoung’s body. His upper body fell forward, arms reaching out to support, hissing at the burning sensation of the dirt in his rasped-up palms.

Besides all the swoosh in his ears and his massive heartbeat, he heard rustling far away. Was it that far away though? Or was it closer but everything in Wooyoung’s body just felt so much louder, so much more urgent?

Wooyoung had his eyes still pressed close from the fall, pushing himself up on shaky legs. He needed to get to San.

Just as he found to his legs, another sharp pain shot from his left leg and made his step stagger. He bit his lip so hard that he swore that he drew blood as he forced his limbs to move. He opened his eyes just a bit while dragging his hurt foot forward. However, it seemed like there was no chance he could apply pressure on his left one as it just gave in beneath him, crumbling back to the ground with a pained whimper.

Arms enveloped him, pressing him close to a chest, but even San was not prepared for the extra weight. With a grunt, both went down again but this time Wooyoung was embraced tightly, his ankle hurting just a bit less in the arms of his lov- friend.

Wooyoung gasped for air as he settled down in San’s arms for a second before he leaned back. His scared grey eyes wandered over San’s face, which mirrored his shock. The warrior was about to say something, cup Wooyoung’s face and ask if he was alright. But Wooyoung came first. He reached towards San’s bloodied face, eyes watering immediately and it did not even need anything else before the dams broke.

The tears made San even more anxious, shifting as all he wanted was to take Wooyoung in his arms more. “Wooyoung, what’s wrong?! Are you hurt!?”

Wooyoung’s teeth were chattering, eyes trained on all the blood coming from San’s forehead.

San was hurt. He tried to say something, but it was all coming out in nothing but a whine as the tears burned in his eyes, dripping down his chin.

“Darling, please”, San whined as he tore Wooyoung’s arms away to finally envelope him close. Wooyoung did not have the strength to resist and wailed into San’s chest. “Shhh”, San shushed. “I’m fine. I’m alright.” San was aware of the blood, but it was probably nothing more than a laceration. He must have landed on some stupid stone or one of those roots looking from the ground. The fell had knocked him out for – what he hoped – only some seconds, but there should be no more damage than that. Wooyoung though…

A hot wave washed over San as he let his hands wander over Wooyoung’s body a bit to access the damage. If Wooyoung got hurt on his watch, he’d never forgive himself. It was so hard to make out any injury though when the prince was constantly shaking and crying.

“Wooyoung, please tell me where it hurts. I beg.” San too, was close to tears by now. His heart couldn’t take to see his love that… hurt.

Wooyoung straightened back up, looking to San with ever new tears flowing. And that was when San saw it – the little wince in his body. The way one of his hands flinched towards his left leg before it settled down back into his lap.

San shifted sideways, “Is it your leg? Does your leg hurt?”

Pressing his lips into a tight line to suppress incoming sobs, he shook his head. San wouldn’t let himself be fooled though – he knew what he saw. “Show me, Woo.”

But just as he was about to move and go look for himself, the prince reached out, holding his hands and body hostage. San froze. What-

“Y-you’re…” Wooyoung gasped for air again, his eyes bloodshot, “You’re hurt!!”

San sat back, taking Wooyoung’s hands in his, “I’m alright. I promise you. It looks worse than it is.”

Nonetheless, Wooyoung shook his head, more violently than last time. “Y-y-you are… h-h-“

San frowned, drawing in his eyebrows, his chest closing in on his heart – the pressure getting more and more unbearable before his head jumped to the realisation.

“Wooyoung, breathe.”

Again, the prince shook his head, gripping San tighter, his fingernails digging into his clothes. But San wouldn’t have that, gripping Wooyoung’s wrists. “Breathe.”

Wooyoung heard him, he did. But he couldn’t. He tried, but he couldn’t. The panic for San slowly grew into panic for himself.

“I can’t!”, Wooyoung shouted, distraught filling his voice, “You- you cannot get hurt.” The last word broke and he rasped for air, pressing a hand against his chest as it started to hurt.

Fingers carefully and gently cupped Wooyoung’s face, holding it up so San could keep eye contact with Wooyoung. “Slowly and carefully with me, good?”

The tears just kept coming. Everything was too much. Wooyoung’s ankle hurt, his heart hurt, San was hurt and his chest and throat hurt as there was just no air making it through into his body.

Desperately he held onto San, pulling him close to hide his face into his neck. “I- I can’t afford to lose you. I can’t lose you. Not again. Don’t leave me. Not again.”

“Shhh, Wooyoung. Please just breathe with me. I’m going nowhere. Ever again.”

“Promise!”, Wooyoung winced, voice thin.

“I promise, darling. Come on, breathe in and out.”

Wooyoung tried to follow San, but his breath hitched in his panic. “I’m alright, I promise. You won’t lose me.”

The grey eyes looked so distant as his body was following San’s instructions slowly. It seemed like a stone was falling of San’s chest as Wooyoung settled in a somewhat normal breathing rhythm.

The prince looked tired and worn-out. He looked so much more vulnerable; younger. San didn’t dare to hold him close anymore as he wanted to give Wooyoung enough room to breathe. But… he wished he could just keep him close in his arms, feeling his heartbeat against his own. The moment had left San stunned. Carefully, he ran some fingers through Wooyoung’s ruined hair to calm him down until even the quietest sobs disappeared. The flower clips in his hair hanging loosely in his strands.

San sighed as he pressed a soft kiss to the crown of Wooyoung’s head. The words of Wooyoung ringed in his head, making his chest clench.

“I- I can’t afford to lose you. I can’t lose you. Not again. Don’t leave me. Not again.”

San pressed his eyes close. As if leaving had ever been his choice…

Still, the way Wooyoung reacted the moment he had seen San bleed? Of course, it was understandable the sight would shake him, but… to this extent? San couldn’t shake off the feeling that… there was something else. San buried his nose in the side of Wooyoung’s hair, breathing in his scent as he tried to think.

He thought of that time when the salesmen were over. When Wooyoung so desperately wanted the jewellery off. He never wore jewellery. San remembered that sometimes he had when they were still kids. He was never fond of it but… it surely never elicited such… panic. Weird, San thought as he let his hand wander over Wooyoung’s back in comfort.

“Wooyoung, stop.”

“I want it gone”, Wooyoung whimpered, and it made San act quickly, unclipping the gold from his neck.

“It’s gone. It’s gone”, San soothed, just letting the necklace slip to the floor, not caring for its worth as he needed his hands to reciprocate the hug that Wooyoung initiated almost immediately.

The scene played like a play in his head. Repeatedly, he heard Wooyoung’s panicked voice to want it gone. The same tone that Wooyoung had just some minutes again.

Wooyoung’s breathing was finally back to normal, making San lean into a close hug. His eyes teared up as Wooyoung reciprocated and just held San tight in the embrace. San hid his burning eyes in the crook of Wooyoung’s neck.

What has happened in those years that I was gone… to make you cry so much?

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

“Are you sure that you can walk on your own? I can carry you.”

Wooyoung dismissed San’s worry with a dark gaze. “You are hurt yourself, San”, he said with a finishing hiss as he limbed his hurt leg forward. They had already reached the end of the forest, seeing the crocus sway in the royal garden from afar.

“Me being hurt is no reason to not carry you, my prince.”

“Wooyoung”, he growled as he just bit his tongue to speed up his limping steps.

It didn’t take a full minute back in the gardens for one of the guards around to see them and call for more guards and the physician. Wooyoung rolled his eyes as it seemed that he was a permanent patient now. Wooyoung had mainly left his gaze on the ground while they had walked back – he couldn’t stand to see the blood staining San’s clothes.

San had been a mess after Wooyoung had gotten hurt in addition to his freaking out. Meanwhile he should worry about himself. All the blood dripping over his eye could not mean anything good, even when San said so. Wooyoung understood that he as a prince was important and probably more important than San on paper but… San was important to Wooyoung and sometimes he couldn’t stand it when San was so careless and only had eyes and ears for the prince.

“By heaven, what happened?!”

Wooyoung shrieked out of his thoughts at a growling voice. In hurried steps, Hongjoong dashed over the courtyard, an angered frown on his face. His dark blue cape flared in the speed and he had one of his hands pressed against the hilt of his sword hanging at the side of his belt. His hair looked a bit dishevelled and Wooyoung assumed that he had just been at the training’s field when he had noticed the guards running around like flushed chickens.

In no time, Hongjoong reached San and Wooyoung. The prince was about to appease him when he took another step, left leg giving in. Luckily, San had reacted fast and caught Wooyoung to support him at the side. But for Hongjoong just this slip up was enough to make his nostrils flare. He lowered to Wooyoung’s foot while San held him close, making sure he would finally take some of the support he had denied the whole way back.

“I’m fine- Ah!”

A gloved hand had touched the outside of his left ankle, sending a chill and wave of pain through his entire body. His air was knocked out of his lungs as he reached blindly for San’s hand to hold.

For a while Hongjoong looked at the already swollen ankle, accessing the injury before he lifted Wooyoung in his arms, despite all his protests that he could still walk.

“You can’t”, Hongjoong said sternly, turning towards the castle but gaze staying on San, who was not even feeling the blood anymore if it wasn’t for the rhythmical drops of red bouncing of his chin. “With such a foot you are not supposed to walk even for a second.”

San bit his tongue. Oh, how he would have loved to talk back, to make him understand that San respected Wooyoung’s wish. Wooyoung had a panic attack just minutes before, so he could understand that he wanted a bit room for himself to breathe. San would have loved to do the same as Hongjoong just did, but he’d not argue with Wooyoung further than that.

“We talk later.” Hongjoong’s cold voice made a shiver go down San’s spine.

“San has done nothing wrong”, Wooyoung protested while he was carried away. “Hongjoong! Let me walk! Hongjoooooong!!”

San sighed as he was left alone. Some guards stood awkwardly by, having watched the entire scene without commenting. One of them approached him.

“Lord, do you acquire medical supervision?”, he asked while handing him a white towel. San grit his teeth, snatching it out of his hands.

“No”, he hissed while pressing it to his face and forehead. It was nothing, like he said. But it seemed that nobody but the lower rank guards and Wooyoung seemed to give him the same concern that was brought to the royal family. San took a deep breath, getting rid of the rage bubbling up like magma in the deepest depths of a volcano.

San sighed. And that was why he loved Wooyoung. Why he loved… a boy with such a big and kind heart.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

“Ouch!”

The sigh that came from Yunho sounded amused, “If you keep flinching away, I’ll stop tending to your injury.”

San grumbled, touching the sore spot on his forehead, “It’s not an injury.”

“It is enough to make me need to deliver your state of well-being to the prince every morning.” Yunho laughed at the way San blushed at that.

San hadn’t seen Wooyoung in the last days, probably because he was resting to not put too much weight on his foot. San got assured that he was fine, and that the injury wasn’t bad, but knowing the Park family, they would keep Wooyoung on close watch for some time to ensure his safety. San had not dared to approach Wooyoung’s room, not after the talk Hongjoong had given him.

“I can’t believe I had to endure the prince consort’s rough words.”

Yunho frowned as he leaned down with the wet cloth again, dabbing it against the healing injury, “You know well enough that you could have explained it the same way you explained it to me. Lord Hongjoong would have understood.”

Is that so? Hongjoong had lectured him about safety, about being reckless and on top of it all to ‘follow the duties of his ancestors’. San rolled his eyes at the memory. San was the top warrior of his clan – any clan probably – but that didn’t mean that he needed to be Wooyoung’s bodyguard, since Wooyoung made it more than clear at the Snowdrop ball that he didn’t desire that.

“I feel like if it’s about Wooyoung’s safety, everyone is on their own. I completely understand”, San huffed, thanking Yunho as he finished wrapping his head in a light bandage again, “I am the same.”

Yunho snorted as he carried the pot of water he had used towards the door.

The sun suddenly shone through the curtains and San shielded his eyes against the lowering orange light. Dusk had already sat in. What should he do to pass the time?

A knock got him out of his thoughts, making him exchange a look with Yunho, who seemed as surprised as him. Nobody had ever needed San that urgently to send someone to his own chamber – so, who could it be?

With a trained hand, Yunho straightened his clothes before reaching for the doorknob. San tried to get the chaos of his hair – due to the bandage – into place but without much success.

His breath hitched as the person behind the door was no other than Prince Wooyoung.

He looked like he had already prepared for the night as he wore some soft cream coloured dress, only hugging to his thighs. There was a satin robe over his shoulders, hiding his elbows and falling to reach exactly the same length as the dress. His legs laid open and it made not only San see stars, but Yunho shyly look away, as he didn’t feel like it was in his position to see the second prince like that.

He excused himself fast and with a deep bow before taking the pot of water and bandages and rushing outside.

Wooyoung didn’t say a word, just closing the door quietly behind him. Only now, San noticed the thick bandages around his left ankle, drawing up half his shin. A bad conscience got hold of San. Was it that bad? Everyone had told him it wasn’t.

When Wooyoung turned, leaning against the door, San couldn’t help himself but feel hurt. The way he kept his distance… what if Hongjoong wasn’t the only one disappointed in letting Wooyoung injure himself? What if Wooyoung was scared of San now? Scared that he couldn’t protect him? That he wasn’t safe…

“I wanted to thank you.”

Now… San probably looked like an idiot. He wanted what?

Definitely the opposite of what he expected, making his thoughts fall to pieces.

Unless Wooyoung told him to, San wouldn’t get up to close the distance between him, just getting comfortable on the bed. He – nevertheless – slid his legs over the edge of the it, “Thank me regarding…?”

Hesitation grew on the prince’s face like the ivy on the outer castle’s walls. He nibbled on his lower lip, making San wish he could pull the sensitive skin out of his sharp teeth. The image in front of the warrior was quite a scene as the setting sun put a fiery gold into his room like the display of soft fire. Everything seemed to glow in light orange embers, making San an addict to the scene.

“Back when we were in the woods…”

In the woods? The mentioning of it made San’s heart pounder again. He felt at fault. He had been the one to overlook the dangerous pit, not only falling in it but spreading so much worry within Wooyoung to make him follow him. San already realised though that this wasn’t about the physical injuries.

San frowned, eyes saddening, “You don’t need to thank me for that.” Everything San had done to get Wooyoung through that moment of panic was a natural reaction. Wasn’t it highly doubtful that anyone in their right mind would bet a blind eye to someone in such distress? Laugh or just leave? All San wanted was for Wooyoung to feel better, and it had always been San’s goal to achieve that.

The boy in the night gown sighed heavily, as if the incident had been the most tragic one in the last century. His strides were elegant as he had chosen to approach. “Something like that… has not happened to me in a while. So, I feel sorry and would like to apologise that you had to see me like that.” Wooyoung hugged himself, squeezing the skin until it turned pale under the pressure. The topic obviously left the prince in discomfort.

It wasn’t in San’s interest to further pry but just one word made his ears twitch. Carefully, the warrior reached for Wooyoung’s soft hands, laying his palms against their backs until the prince grabbed them. San arched a brow, “Has that – by any chance – happened before?”

“Not often…”, Wooyoung trailed off, but that were measurements that San couldn’t really put in place. The silence of the boy made San fear that he was diving into memories of further incidents, massaging his knuckles to get him back into the here and now. Wooyoung looked so much younger standing in front of San like that with a little tremble in his skinny frame.

The dark eyes of the older wandered to their hands, his fingers finding interest at the other’s cold and surprisingly bruised knuckles. Bruises? Must have still been from the forest. San did not indulge into more worries, putting his fears aside as Wooyoung seemed to be fine. At least his physical condition.

There was a more pressing matter. San had already believed so when they had been sitting in the forest. In that pit… Something…

“Wooyoung?”, San started with an uncertain voice, “Did… something happen, while I was gone?” A sudden hitch in his breaths. It did not take more to make San press his lips into a bitter line. “When we were 15… and got separated”, San repeated, “Did something… happen since then?”

Wooyoung’s pause of breaths continued just after the initial shock, pretending to breathe calmly but San couldn’t be fooled. The angelic orange light wandered from his face, down to his chest and hips until it faded completely, leaving the boys in the dark blue shades of the night and the faint yellow light of the candles that Yunho had lit a while back in preparation for the night.

Involuntarily, San saw that day again. He smelled the sharp air of February. The snow had still hugged the trees, the almonds not blossoming yet. His eyes had been full of tears that burned like fire. His teeth chattered like crazy and he needed to keep anything in himself to not just scream in his frustration. He felt that with every inch the carriage left behind, further and further away from the shining white castle walls, that a part of San’s heart had stayed there. A part in the shape of a 15-year-old boy in a long white fluffy coat, sitting on the snow-covered street. His long hair covered his body like a curtain, falling to the ground and puddling as the strands had gotten so long over the years. Snowflakes hung in his flowy hair, decorating like small stars the night sky. His face was hidden behind both his hands and young Lord San had wished for nothing else but to be unable to see his shoulders shaking up and down so violently. To be in ignorance of the prince’s cries. And even after the castle walls had vanished behind a wall of grey fog, San stared over his shoulder outside the back window of the carriage as if he could still see him when he strained his eyes’ sight. He had craned his neck to see just a glimpse of Wooyoung for more than hours until he felt stiff, and it all started to hurt. But no pain in the world could rival what it had felt to leave Wooyoung behind for who knows how long. Oh how San had begged his parents to stay. To stay. To… stay…

The sudden squeeze Wooyoung had on San’s hand catapulted him out of the jail of his thoughts. Before he could even foster up a coherent sentence the boy threw himself onto San. In an instance, San threw his arms around Wooyoung’s body as he fell backwards onto the bed with the extra weight added. “Nothing. Nothing happened.”

Nothing…

I think that is the first lie that you ever told me, San thought, trying to ignore the sting in his chest. Wooyoung keeping secrets was not in San’s favour, yet there was little to nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t really blame him either since they had been connected through nothing but approximately one letter per month for over 7 years. The trust level must have taken a blow, or at least San tried to convince himself of that; it seemed less painful that way.

His fingers sifted through Wooyoung’s soft curls as he felt his entire smaller body so close. The prince sat up after a while, placing his hands flatly onto San’s stomach. San tensed under the touch. Both their cheeks flared up in crimson, turning even darker shades of red, as they both locked eyes, realising in what position they were in. Wooyoung straddled San’s lower body, watching San from above who laid flatly on his back. His eyes were like the ones of a hawk, chest rising and falling faster in the light of their position. He forbid his mind to wander with all his might…

San should push Wooyoung off. Ignore it. Ignore his screaming and bleeding heart. But… was that even right? Wooyoung visibly swallowed as he couldn’t take his eyes from San. Only when the older one put his left hand on Wooyoung’s naked thigh, Wooyoung averted his eyes there, the grey following the way San’s hand caressed the warm skin.

Wooyoung felt his heart sped up, a shiver haunted his spine. He didn’t want to push San’s hand away though, it felt really good and comfortable. If Wooyoung was honest, he never felt any discomfort around San at all. At least nothing that got above excessive excitement or nervosity. However, right now? It was only a feeling of nerves and home.

“It all feels so right and so wrong. I was so excited to have my best friend back but now that we spent so many days together again and… and San had… he has changed s-so much. Like, he’s huge, dad! I-“

Wooyoung’s breathing picked up, his body going all hot as he felt San’s heartbeat under the cup of his fingers as they had wandered a bit further to his chest. Sweat broke out on his forehead.

“You must like him a lot.”

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! It was stupid how well Wooyoung’s father was able to read him, despite never having said a single thing about what he felt for San.

“I am scared.”

Scared… yeah… It was the closest feeling to describe the jumps in his heartbeat. He always liked whatever San and he had had in their childhood. He feared the change. Of letting himself fall deeper into this relationship. But where was the risk? So far, it didn’t seem to him as if San detested it. Quite the contrary. Wooyoung didn’t want to make assumptions, his mind far too gabbled to do so, but wasn’t San the one doing romantic advances all the time? Or did he feel obliged to because of their arranged marriage? Was San just trying to force himself to fall in love with him – or was everything he felt genuine and had always been? His thoughts drove him crazy and Wooyoung wasn’t sure if he should further pounder the topic, when… when it felt so good regardless.

“You have been given some months with San and it’s yours to choose how. Nobody else’s, hm?”

“Can I sleep with you?”

The caressing stopped. Immediately, San supported his upper body on his elbows as he looked startled. His eyes wide in shock. “M-My Prince, I mean, Wooyoung, I-“

Oh lord. No. San couldn’t. This was against every good etiquette he had ever learned about. But who was he to deny the prince’s, no – his secret heartthrob’s – wishes!? It wasn’t like San was really against the thought- No! He should not think about such!

“Like…”, Wooyoung blushed, feigning a cough as he must have realised how it had sounded, his voice suddenly two octaves higher like the squeaking of a mouse, “Like next to you. Not… y-you know.” San didn’t think that his voice could possibly be higher, but it was and with every syllable it rose.

Oh lord, San hoped that an angel would watch over him as he was dying in the display of such adorable yet sinful behaviour and words.

“Here”, Wooyoung continued as San kept an eagle eye on him like he was his prey. The prince patted at San’s empty side.

Wooyoung had never in his life felt that flustered. The butterflies in his chest resembled the buzzing of bees by now and he felt like if this situation didn’t resolve any second, he’d faint. It took him by surprise when San lowered himself back onto the bed, sliding his hands around Wooyoung’s tiny waist. Wooyoung watched closely but couldn’t avoid squeaking as San pushed Wooyoung ever so gently to the empty side of his bed and rolled over the prince until he was hovering over him.

The picture of Wooyoung laying beneath him, panting and with such pink cheeks made San take a deep breath to calm his racing heart.

“Like this?”, San whispered in a husky voice, making Wooyoung swallow. The warrior was about to retreat from the prince, as he certainly had teased him enough and to avoid anything stupid to happen, when Wooyoung threw his arms around him, pulling San down onto his body in a hug.

The hug made San lose balance and fall on top of Wooyoung, covering his small body with his bigger one. San stopped breathing. He couldn’t breathe. Not at all. Not when the vicinity made him dizzy. He felt every ounce of Wooyoung’s body pressed against his own. Heaven should avert its gaze as San felt that this was the most intimate moment in his entire life. The warmth radiated in calm waves from Wooyoung, and it made goosebumps spread all over San’s body.

W-what was he supposed to do!?

“Like this”, Wooyoung mumbled content. “This is how I feel safe.”

San heard it shatter before he felt it. His heart. His poor little heart. A shaking breath escaped him as some tears started to sting in his eyes. San allowed himself to calm down, pushing naughty thoughts aside as he just slid his hands between Wooyoung and the cushions to hold him tighter.

“Promise me to never leave again.”

San breathed in Wooyoung’s scent before he reached for the blanket at the side and threw it over both their bodies. In the little cover of the blanket San found Wooyoung’s twinkling eyes.

“I promise”, he whispered in a silence only accompanied by the dripping of wax from the candles. San lowered back down again. “And this is really alright like this?” The warrior wondered, “Am I not too heavy?”

“Nuhh uh”, Wooyoung denied with a little sound, “It feels perfect, if it is also alright for you?”

The sudden insecurity in the prince’s words made San quickly lower back onto his body, getting enveloped in Wooyoung’s arms and warmth again. He felt so safe with Wooyoung, so comfortable, so cuddly.

“Yes”, San breathed in the side of his hair, “It feels like home.”

Wooyoung smiled as he closed his eyes, “I’m glad.”

A little breeze found its way through the slit of the open balcony, making the candle’s light flicker and dance and sizzle to darkness, leaving the boys to the world of dreams.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

“Aaaahhh, I can’t believe you let us fall asleep in s-such a position?!”, Wooyoung screeched as he held the robe he had been sleeping in closed tightly.

San looked left and right out of his room’s door, “Me?! Why is you falling asleep in my bed my fault now? Also, you asked.”

Wooyoung shuddered, “Alright, I maybe did. B-but-“

“It’s clear, there are no guards right now. Quick!”, San said as he grabbed for Wooyoung’s hand as he started jogging.

“I sure hope so! It’s enough that your advisor has seen us that way!”, Wooyoung squeaked as his face painted as red as San’s. “What must he think of us now?”

“Yunho won’t say a word. I’ll tell him to.”

“W-what should he even keep hidden?”, Wooyoung stuttered, “It’s not like we did anything.”

San blushed. “God, Wooyoung please stay quiet, you’re making everything worse.”

“I know, that’s why I keep rambling!!”, the boy complained, “I am panicking!”

San rolled his eyes fondly as he looked around the next corner if anyone was there. Luckily, they had woken up very early, the sun not even properly risen yet. They had cuddled for some minutes before they were disturbed by a knock and Yunho’s surprised eyes and flirty whistle. That bastard!

It must have looked like… like… Wooyoung had spent the night with San – which, he had – just not in that way!! San already dreaded everything he would get to hear from Yunho later… He was his advisor but also his best friend who certainly wouldn’t keep the comments to himself.

“You must promise that Yunho won’t say a word!! I need you to- mmm!”

San had pulled Wooyoung close, a hand over his mouth to shut him while he pulled both of them behind one of the pillars in the corridors. His gaze went around the pillar, holding the prince close who couldn’t bear this treatment and just started licking on San’s palm until he let go.

“What is i-“

“Shhh!”, San emphasised and pointed around the pillar they were hiding behind.

The looming uncertainty made Wooyoung grip his robe, making sure he held it closed off around his body. Maybe walking around in nothing but this little night dress wasn’t one of his best ideas, but the desire to talk – and see – San had been stronger. Wooyoung shyly looked around the pillar, frowning as he saw Seonghwa, Hongjoong, and his father approach. Had they been up all night once again to discuss political matter? Wouldn’t be the first time… or was it an early appointment that he just didn’t know about?

As they got closer, Wooyoung stepped back into San’s embrace, without stopping to look around the pillar – way too curious what was going on.

“I do not question your words but it’s important to know that you are not mistaken”, the king said in a hushed voice, looking to the other two men walking next to him.

“Most certainly”, Hongjoong emphasised with a nod, “There is a faint engraving, nearly non-existent to the naked eye, on the bottom of the ceramic art. Of course, it cannot be proven to be from the artist at craft, but we also cannot exclude them.”

“Besides”, Seonghwa added with a grunt, “It’s no secret that the last tax reform didn’t do well for people working in arts and crafts. After all, we have lowered their income.”

“Targeting the royal family wouldn’t bring anything.”

Hongjoong and Seonghwa exchanged a look.

There was not a lot separating them from Wooyoung and San, so Wooyoung made sure to duck his head back in, hands laying on San’s chest to press himself close and hidden. San wrapped an arm around Wooyoung, feeling his fluttering heart pondering against his own chest. He concentrated, closing his eyes to rely solely on his senses. Listening to their steps to determine their distance and slowly move Wooyoung with himself around the pillar as they passed. Like a gust of wind their steps were quiet, swapping places with the other’s and successfully staying hidden from their eyes.

As soon as the other royal members were gone, San leaned his head against the cool marble. So close. San didn’t get any rest though as Wooyoung freed himself of San’s grasp and started to run. For a second the warrior was left speechless, a big question mark in his face before he started the pursuit. “Wooyoung!?”, San hissed with ducked head, alerted to be found by a guard any second.

Wooyoung’s satin coat flared in the wind as he skipped over more than one steps at the stairway, dashing through the hallways to the left. San had nearly gotten a hold of him, when Wooyoung stormed through a door, pushing open both wings and making some of the cooks and servants working in the kitchen jump at Wooyoung’s sudden entrance.

His steps slowed down to a comfortable walk as he bowed to them and wished them a good morning. San panted heavily as he finally got a grip on Wooyoung’s wrist, giving the people working around a polite nod.

“Woo”, he hissed again, “What in heaven’s name-?”

But Wooyoung only shook his head, gesturing him to follow.

“Did you hear what they talked about?”, Wooyoung asked as he crossed the kitchen, holding his coat close to escape some of the servant’s noisy eyes.

San frowned as he dodged a servant rushing by with a plate of fruits, already in preparation of the breakfast in a few hours. “I think they were discussing the matter of the acid?”

Wooyoung looked over his shoulder to see if they were watched, but the other people present had reserved to do their chores. The prince turned back to a wooden cabinet in the corner, he rolled up the sleeves of his satin robe as he opened the drawers at the top. “Hold me.”

The wood of the cabinet made dangerous sounds as Wooyoung heaved himself up the counter attached. San immediately stumbled to his side. “What are you doing?”

“Just hold me so I don’t fall down.”

“Wooyoung!”, San whisper-yelled, but Wooyoung already slipped out of his night shoes and kicked them off the counter as he stood up. San instantly reached up to hold his hand.

The prince looked from the cabinet down to San, pulling the hem of his dress close to his thighs as a bit of a rosy tone crept on his cheeks. “Don’t look.”

The warrior had not even wasted a thought on that, but now that Wooyoung said it, it made San blush. Sometimes he forgot that Wooyoung was still wearing that short and laced night dress. The dress he had worn as he held him close the entire night, laying above him… San gasped slightly at the memories, shaking his head to get rid of his uncalled thoughts.

Wooyoung supported himself at the side off the wooden cabinet as he stepped even higher on the first plate of the wooden furniture. It was way above hip level now and made San dizzy just imagining that Wooyoung could get hurt again. Now that his feet were right in front of San’s face, he saw the light bloodied patches of the worn-out bandages, making San frown.

There had been blood? San couldn’t remember that Wooyoung had any open injury, but he was also occupied helping him breathe and since he had been walking, he thought it was just fine? His blood ran cold – had it been bleeding the whole way back to the palace?!

“Wooyo-“, San wanted to ask, but Wooyoung suddenly went on his tiptoes, reaching for something in the far end of the cabinet. What on earth could be that far hidden and out of reach that Wooyoung suddenly wanted that bad?

Ah.

The warrior should have guessed it as Wooyoung turned around with one of the cups that had harboured the acid back then.

“Don’t cut yourself again”, San warned, relentlessly letting go of Wooyoung’s hand as the boy needed it to examine the cup. “Be careful.”

Wooyoung seemed to be deep in thoughts as he inspected it, turning it upside down to look at the bottom. He shifted it, left and right, making San’s heart jump as his arms hovered around in case Wooyoung buckled in. Lord, can he finally step down that stupid cabinet?!

“Ah!”, Wooyoung exclaimed, putting it back where he had it from and reaching his arms out for San to help him down, which the warrior more than willingly complied to. Everything as long as Wooyoung was not somewhere up anymore. That habit of climbing things was not one of his good ones. San sighed.

“Now what?”, he asked, kind of worn out. He hadn’t gotten much sleep.

Wooyoung’s eyes sparkled, a mischievous grin on his lips.

Oh oh. San didn’t like that.

“Well, they said the ceramic shop they are from is engraved there.”

San squinted his eyes in suspicion. He had a bad feeling about this. Wooyoung turned on his heels and left the kitchen and headed in the direction of his chambers. Like a watchdog, San was following him. “And you wanted to know that…?”

With his arms stemmed in his hips, Wooyoung turned, “So I can go check it out of course!”

San’s heart plummeted to the floor.

“No.”

“Yes.”

San shook his head, “For nothing in the world you are going to the ceramic shop that maybe did the coating. That maybe wants you dead!”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes as he hugged his shoulders, “We don’t know if it was specifically for me-“

“Wooyoung!”

“We need to go.”

San shook his head, taking Wooyoung’s hands to soothe him, “I am not going anywhere. We are staying here.”

With a hiss, Wooyoung tore his hands out of his friend’s grip. “If you wanna stay, you can do so.”

San’s look was stern and serious.

“That’s a stupid idea, Wooyoung. We shouldn’t go.”

Chapter Text

“This is a stupid idea”, San murmured into the cold, dark air. The sky was full of dark clouds, it had already rained the whole last day, but it seemed as if Wooyoung was so sure about going, that he’d not stray from it.

San redirected the horse they were both riding, Wooyoung sitting behind San and holding him close. Its fur was black and shiny in the lights of bordered houses harbouring dark silhouettes in their windows. San felt the prince’s hand hug more around his waist, his chin finding place on his right shoulder.

“Still, you came with me.”

San repressed a hiss. Of course, he wouldn’t leave Wooyoung alone for such a suicidal plan!? “If your parents find out, I’m a dead man.”

“Ah”, Wooyoung nuzzled his cold nose tip into the crook of San’s neck to warm it up a bit. “They will only kill you if they find out and I’m sure they won’t.”

The dark shadows of the houses were passing by as the horse shot like an arrow through the asphalt streets glistening in early rain. People were calling after them, growling insults at San’s fulminant and reckless speed but despite their baggy black robes he would not risk for the love of God to get recognised. The horseshoes chattered on the cobblestone and San felt the horse slip once twice before he sighed and pulled the bridle. “… Reassuring”, San gritted through his teeth as a late answer to Wooyoung’s comment.

The horse wheezed as it shook its long neck. San patted its mane before he looked around the suburb of the capital. It was all in a grey hue. Nothing colourful as it was such a dark rainy day. Suddenly, Wooyoung sneezed behind him making the warrior throw him a look.

Wooyoung held his nose, “Sorry.”

If sickness was to befall the prince while they were ‘out to tend to flowers and trees and animals’ he’d also get beheaded. San still felt the urge to roll his eyes at Wooyoung’s lie where they were heading to. Especially because they had been caught on their way out by Hongjoong – luckily San was smart enough to hide the black robes in a backpack until they were out of grounds.

Hongjoong must love Wooyoung a lot to not see through his lie, but since they got out it was all fine. Although a part of San just wished for the prince’s consort that he would have seen through them and would have forbidden them to go.

They had told the guards at the entrance that they were out for a ride together and San didn’t even want to know why the young guard was letting them pass while blushing that furiously. It seemed like all the public advances Wooyoung and San ever had had made their rounds quickly.

“Now, where is that shop?”, San asked, looking to Wooyoung before he set the horse in a light trot again. Some people passing by gave them weird looks, but they looked away quickly when San gave them a grim look back. It was best to not get into any conversation. People would recognise Wooyoung fast after all. Of course, there was no need to hide the prince – but there was indeed a need to hide the prince when he was without a proper fleet of guards around. And especially today…

San looked into the dark grey sky as he felt some tiny raindrops. It had such a dangerous and looming atmosphere around that San didn’t trust his own shadow from attacking anymore. His hand slid to his side, gracing the hilt of his sword, moving his heels to check the daggers hidden in his shoes.

“I think it should be close to the walls”, Wooyoung tipped his chin. “Besides, it’s not a shop – it’s more like a workshop. They don’t really sell randomly, they take orders.”

“Where’s the difference?”, San mumbled absentmindedly, as he looked over the roofs to see the grey wall in the distance. The wall of the capital. It was a remnant of old times when people had still felt the need to shut their own kingdoms out, dividing them from the other lands. It was from a time the royals had still been housing in the capital, however as time went by, they had moved to a more secure outer palace where they were still living now. The palace was always safe, just a 40-minute ride from the suburbs.

A group of laughing children were running in front of their horse and San pulled the horse to a stop with a subtle hiss. The little ones didn’t seem to care as they ran all together to some puddles of rainwater to jump into them.

As the pressure of Wooyoung’s body against San’s back retreated, San looked back in surprise only to see Wooyoung slide off the horse’s back elegantly.

“I think it’s better to walk from here”, Wooyoung said while eyeing the children fondly.

San complied, also getting off and patting the horse twice before taking it by its leash to just guide it with them. “Stay close to me”, San said as he eyed the people strolling around with a dark glance.

“It’s my own people, San. You don’t need to feel like being in the middle of a pit of enemies.”

“So, you think the attack wasn’t from here? From someone from Azalea?”

The prince’s gaze was fixed on the ground, avoiding the patches of mud with his shining bright brown leather shoes. “Well… no, I do. That’s why I said it’s important to know it’s a workshop and not only a shop selling goods.”

The rain started to pick up a bit. Not that much that it was uncomfortable but now the pattering could clearly be heard on the roofs around, making metallic sounds and splashes.

“Seonghwa had said something about shortening their incomes. I know they did that a while back because it was an artefact of old days. The early reign appreciated art more than war and they paid gold avalanches. It’s thanks to them that Azalea is blooming with such graceful architecture and art, but it also led to an immense imbalance and power of the artists. Which… is dangerous, you know.”

San processed everything that was said but Wooyoung already continued his string of thoughts.

“Seonghwa and my father did not ‘shorten’ their income. They made it equal. It’s still one well-paid profession, so it doesn’t make sense to me for it to make them lash out that much. To go to those lengths. That’s why we are all not pointing at them in accusation. We think more highly of our citizens. I think more highly of them. I choose to refuse that the people creating such beauty are just money addicted maniacs.”

The way Wooyoung spoke so formally made San dizzy. He couldn’t hide the way it made him look in awe at the prince. Wooyoung had never wanted to be involved in tactics and politics, but San guessed that not even he could escape everything going on.

Wooyoung pulled his black hood deeper into his face, shivering as the wind picked up, helping the rain to wet his clothes. He gritted his teeth as he felt that stupid tingle in his nose again.

The wall looming over their heads and roofs were closing in and San tilted his head to squint up between the drops of rain.

“There it is!”, Wooyoung pointed, sneezing right after. San looked to Wooyoung first, frowning as he watched him rub his nose with the ends of the robe. Maybe they should hurry more than he thought to.

The ceramic workshop was a little hut of wooden blanks. It seemed to be older as it didn’t fit into most streets of marbled stone and white wall plaster. Carriages and men with dark umbrellas were walking down the streets full of orange lanterns, passing this little shop with thick grey smog smouldering from the chimney. The planks of wood  were made of different types; San guessed from the bright birch to the dark larch that they had just taken whatever they had back then and never felt the need to renew it. If it was really the home of crafters focusing on ceramic, San figured that the outside of the shop did never matter as much as the inside.

A sign reading “Cups and plates for sale”, in black inky letters made San’s skin crawl. Had the coating of the acid-cups really come from here?

“Let’s go”, Wooyoung said as he walked ahead.

The door was slightly ajar, making Wooyoung politely knock before coming in with a deep bow and a low greeting, probably to hide his voice’s tone.

A man was sitting at a desk with an oil lamp. He had glasses on as it looked like he was working on placing stones onto a new set of teapots. He nodded to the new guests but otherwise didn’t pay them more attention. The room was rather dark, probably due to the weather as it was still decorated with a lot of windows. There was a couple looking at some pots in one of the corners and another man telling them something about their goods.

It made San release a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. It seemed like a cozy shop where people were just working in their niches. A door leading into darkness was at the other side of the room and it made San wonder how many more people were here though. He would have loved to know if it was just these two men or if they were heavily outnumbered here. San didn’t voice his concerns though, as Wooyoung already looked through the aisles of ceramic, bending down to reach for one cup after another and pretend to be interested in maybe buying something. The way Wooyoung let his finger slide over the edges inside of the cups made San’s organs churn. He was looking for the coatings.

The couple seemed to have chosen something as they went to the cashier with the salesperson. San sighed. It was probably best to find out what Wooyoung was looking for as soon as possible, so he joined in the search in other aisles and looked at the different art of cups.

Wooyoung craned his neck to see San pass by, giving a quick look to the two men at the shop, one of them biding the couple ‘goodbye’ as they left through the door. The bell rang loudly as suddenly the light in the room dimmed more. Wooyoung flinched at the sound – they must have closed the door.

No matter how many cups Wooyoung was lifting, none of them had the coating inside, although it was hard to tell in this poor light. Besides, not noticing the coating didn’t mean there was none, it just meant that they maybe enhanced their skills after all. The salesperson shuffled by, walking to open the door at the front again. Involuntarily, Wooyoung felt how he tensed as the man got closer. Yes, he had been telling San that they weren’t accusing them and that he needed proof and all, but nevertheless, Wooyoung was here to confirm it and just the thought that he could be right and that they were behind the acid incident in some way made his skin itch.

He heard the steps of the man’s shoes and the more Wooyoung fixated on the idea that they could possibly be the one who wanted him dead, the more every step echoed in the rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Is there something specific you are looking for?”

Wooyoung shrieked, no word escaping though as his heart lurched up, the cup in his hand slipping and he only caught it by sheer luck before falling to the ground. He straightened his back, putting the cup back and looking through the empty spaces of the shelves to see the salesman talking to San.

Wooyoung sighed, turning to go to one of those boxes that harboured shards that must have been left from broken art. He was intrigued to see so many different patterns and shells of broken cups. Right next to it was another shelve with plates but before Wooyoung turned to it, his eyes caught onto one specific pattern. His hands reached for a shard of blue and green ornament. A sparkle caught Wooyoung’s eye as he recognised it almost on the spot. There was a double layer inside the white ceramic, making the prince’s eye shake. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead, and he was not even able to flinch anymore at his finger slid over the edge, drawing blood at the sharp edge of the coating.

Wooyoung had not even heard that the salesperson had stopped talking with San, he had not heard him approach neither realised the vicinity he suddenly had as he was standing at the opposite side of the box, eyes trained on Wooyoung like a demon finding his prey.

“Isn’t it reckless to snoop around without protection, my prince?”

There was creaking in the back as the other man who had worked on the ceramic slid his chair back.

Wooyoung stayed completely still, eyes not leaving the ceramic as his blood ran cold.

“He’s not without protection”, there was so much darkness swirling in San’s eyes that it rivalled the big shadows of the room. His feeling didn’t betray him as his alarm bells started to ring. These people were bad news and them talking to Wooyoung in such a harassing tone made everything worse. He slid in front of Wooyoung, the robe hanging into his face as he gave the man a sharp look. With one of his hands, he pressed Wooyoung a bit back, so he would be out of reach.

The man crooked a brow at that but just cracked his knuckles in response, making San and Wooyoung tense up. In the periphery of their vision, the other guy stood up, grabbing for a knife laying around the table.

San gritted his teeth. Being between both of them was certainly the worst situation to keep Wooyoung and himself out of harm’s way.

“San!”, Wooyoung warned and gripped the back of San’s robe as the guy in front pulled his fist back to strike. The woosh of air was abruptly stopped by San as he caught his fist. San didn’t like the way Wooyoung was digging his fingernails into his shoulder blades – hating the way he was flinching at every movement and sound. He was scared.

The glint of a blade flickered in the periphery of San’s vision, and he saw the blade in the other man’s eyes for a second. “Wooyoung, watch your back!!”, San shouted over his shoulder, grunting as he got a good blow from the front into his guts.

“You should better care for what is in front of you”, his attacker said, making San grin bitterly. Wooyoung’s fingers dug more and more into San’s skin, surely leaving marks as his whole body started to press against him. However, the pressure disappeared after a while and San supressed the urge to look as he felt Wooyoung’s back press against his. San definitely didn’t think they would ever fight back-to-back.

San turned his attention back to the man in front of him, gritting his teeth as he parried some more punches. His movements were sloppier than San’s and the warrior quickly gained an upper hand. He placed a high kick against his chest, presumably taking the air out of his lungs, before he swept him off his feet. His head hit the corner of the table, making him grunt and lay still. This would do for a breather.

The warrior used the little break to reach for one of the blades hidden in his boots before he turned to Wooyoung, who was successfully dodging the guy with the knife, but not without holding his shaking hands close to his chest. However, Wooyoung’s luck seemed to run out as the guy reached for his wrist, making Wooyoung yell at him. “Let me go! San!”

He pushed at the man’s chest, but his strength had left due to the fear embedded in his muscles, nothing more than a subtle push reaching the enemy.

“Wooyoung!”, San exclaimed as he already longed for the prince, but he was unable to go any faster as the man raised his knife. “Wooyoung, no!”

The prince’s breath hitched in his throat, freezing as his attempt to free himself were futile. He couldn’t escape.

San panicked, “Wooyoung!!”

That made the prince jump out of his frozen fear, reaching for the arm that held the knife and catching it mid-air. Wooyoung grunted as the guy had way more strength than him, but he was able to fend it off for a bit. Just a bit… then San would be there.

The enemy looked right through this though and must have turned Wooyoung’s held wrist painfully as the prince exclaimed in a cry, his knees buckled in slightly and things were going so fast. Even though San had reached them, he couldn’t keep the blade from searing down.

As if San had been the one at the blade’s edge, a hot pain travelled his whole body, like little needles the scream of the prince bore into his skin, leaving San paralysed for a second as his eyes caught the sight of blood. It happened so fast that all that was left of the scene was Wooyoung crouching to the floor, holding his left cheek or neck – San couldn’t see that well. His eyes were trained on the man with the knife, which fell right out of his hands as San had caught both his wrists and applied so much pressure that his nerves couldn’t uphold it.

“The fuck-“, the guy cursed angrily but that was all he could say before San smashed his own forehead against the attacker’s. It felt like it jumbled up his brain but otherwise San stayed fine, while the enemy went down to the floor with blood dripping down between his eyebrows.

San panted; madness had taken over after watching Wooyoung get injured. His sight was tainted red, and he tightened the grip around his little dagger, eager to use it, but San was someone trained on rationality and killing someone was always the last resort.

There was rumbling at his back, making San glint over his shoulder were the other ceramic artist slowly gained consciousness again. The guy that attacked Wooyoung was also responding in a pained growl, making San act immediately. He took Wooyoung’s free hand and ran.

“Get the prince! Get him alive!”

The guy that had received the clout was trying to stand in their way, held them, but San gave him a good push, making him stumble over the desk he was working on, the jarring sounds of breaking glass and furniture sent a shiver over San’s and Wooyoung’s spine.

As if they were breaking out a dark cave, the sudden sunlight wrapped them as San kicked open the entrance. What did it even matter that he had ripped out its angles? The only thing San concentrated on was the fast pulse pumping through Wooyoung’s hand, feeling it through their connected hands. He dashed forward, pulling Wooyoung along. He knew that the prince wouldn’t be able to go as fast as him, but he tried his best to find a pace both could uphold while still getting away. The darkness of the clouds had settled deeper, leaving the streets in grey tiredness, a bit of rain wetting their heated skin.

San crunched with his teeth as for the upmost of times his shoes slipped over the cobblestone. The people they were pushing out of their way on their escape threw them indecent words of complaint. All that mattered to San was that Wooyoung’s hand still laid firmly in his. He heard his troubled breaths behind him, his steps and gasps for air.

San was nearly sure that they would make it out of those men’s grasp when suddenly Wooyoung fell. With a little pained grunt, he went down, catching himself barely with the free hand. San tried to soften his fall too. When San crouched down to Wooyoung, he saw the injury for the first time, his heart catching in his throat. A dark cut was stinging on Wooyoung’s left cheek, the rain was washing the blood everywhere on his cheek, making it look even worse. His eyes were ripped so wide open, frantic, his breaths hitching as he was about to hyperventilate.

“Wooyoung”, San called for him, but Wooyoung seemed to be far away, the situation taking a toll on him as his eyes watered at the lack of air. “Love”, San tried again, as he laid his hand against the unharmed cheek of Wooyoung, but the prince was not going to be better as long as they stayed there. People were already crowding to watch when San gritted his teeth and tried to pull Wooyoung up again. He needed to get him to safety – now!

However, what San hadn’t realised is, that Wooyoung had not fallen due to the rain making running difficult, but because Wooyoung’s foot was not keeping this up anymore. A lightning stroke San’s mind as he saw the bandages through an opening of his shoes and trousers. The injury.

“Hold still”, San said urgently as a whimper fell from Wooyoung’s lips. San didn’t have time to look at this now, so he just lifted him up as good as possible – knife thrown to the side as he needed to act fast - before running. He heard a commotion in his back but tried to not give it too much mind. They just needed to outrun them. San took more and more corners until he found the narrowest of alleys he could find. He lowered Wooyoung to the ground, making sure his back and head was resting securely against the building’s wall, before San took a stance next to him, back also pressed against the wall while he drew his sword.

San tried to even out his breathing so they wouldn’t hear him and from the lack of sounds around him, he was fairly sure that Wooyoung was doing the same. He lowered his sword’s tip to the ground, ready to slash it upwards if needed, but silently praying he wouldn’t need too.

Then there were the sounds of steps. San’s whole body tensed up. He shuffled closer to Wooyoung’s side, eyes crazy as he waited for his attackers to turn around the corner, for the fight to ensue. But it didn’t happen. Black silhouettes passed the alley they were hiding in. San’s heart was beating so loudly in his chest that it had managed to tune out everything else, the people in the street, the rain pattering on the metal roofs of carriages, dogs barking. Everything was gone except the pumping of his heart, until he heard the small sobs from his side.

His eyes widened.

Wooyoung.

San let himself fall to his knees, putting the sword to the side but still in reach as he looked at the prince. Wooyoung’s eyes looked far gone, tears spilling almost silently from his eyes. His skin was pale, looking like a ghost, the bloodied cut against the white looked nearly black, making it look so much worse.

The rain had picked up, drenching their clothes in seconds. San couldn’t even care less. He reached for Wooyoung’s cheek, trying to see how bad the injury was, making Wooyoung flinch away. “Wooyoung.”

“I am fine”, the prince said but it sounded anything other than fine. His voice was deprived of feelings and any trace of life. Empty as the gaze he harboured.

San’s heart beat thousand times the minute as his thoughts started to race, hammering like the gallop of a horse against the walls of his head. His eyes started to shake as it all caught up to him. He had sworn to protect him… His body slumped, shoulders hanging as he let his hands fall into the puddle of muddy water to their feet. San saw the slight reflections of himself in the ripples, hands acting fast to rip his own face into shreds. His head jumped up again, looking at Wooyoung who still cried silently, not even looking at San.

He had failed him…

A shaking breath came out of San’s mouth, shuddering in the silence of the alley, shunned from the buzz of the town. There was no time for such thoughts as long as they weren’t in safety yet. This was merely a shelter to take a breath. Not more.

Wooyoung, sitting motionlessly at his side, was waiting for San to act. To fix this mess. And by hell, San would always fight a way free for Wooyoung, no matter how dark the path looked.

San reached for his sword, cringing at the hilt being all covered in mud. He would need to give it some thorough cleaning back at the palace. He put it back in the hilt before pushing himself to his feet. The way Wooyoung didn’t react to any of it – neither with his body nor his eyes – was concerning. San nibbled on his lower lip as he thought.

For the first time since they arrived here, Wooyoung moved when San lowered down, back facing the prince. “Hop on. I’ll carry you to the horse.”

San waited, his hands ready to grip Wooyoung’s thighs, so he could be comfortable on his back, but the weight was not coming. A glance over his shoulder gave him goosebumps as Wooyoung’s eyes were swimming in an ocean of tears by now.

It was just a low whisper against the harsh sounds of the pouring rain, “Are you mad at me?”

Mad? San frowned as he must have heard badly… Why – by all heavens – should he be mad?

The shaking in Wooyoung’s hands made it visible that he was serious about it though, scared to have done something wrong to his childhood friend. San turned and crouched down again, pushing the wet hair out of Wooyoung’s face. “If I appear so…”, San said, thinking back to the ceramic shop and the rough words and urgency in his actions. “Then I am sorry. If there is anger then it is not directed at you, Woo. It is directed at everything and everyone who wants to harm you.” Wooyoung nodded, swallowing hard as he hiccupped on his own breaths. San gave him a reassuring and little smile, while he played with one of Wooyoung’s strands. “Like the rain that makes you shiver; the roses cutting your fingertips”, San whispered the words so close to Wooyoung, “I want it all gone. The acid, those bastards…”, San stopped himself there, before he could mutter how he himself was one of those threats too.

His voice disappeared in the rhythmic patterning as it vanished in an orchestra of thunder sounds. San looked into the dark sky. The little rain seemed to turn into a vicious storm.

Wooyoung’s tears seemed to dissipate, San offering his hands to help the prince back onto his feet, although careful in face of his injury.

“I will never – no matter what you do – be mad at you, Wooyoung. I promise you that; as much as I promised you that I’d never leave again.”

Wooyoung’s glimmering red eyes looked to San, his hands digging into the warrior’s black coat to stabilise his stance. “Promise?”

“Promise”, San smiled, watching Wooyoung with a pained expression wiping the tears with the end of his coat.

“I want you safe. Safer than anyone else wants you. And you know that this is a high standard regarding your family.” The bad attempt at humour worked as he got a wet chuckle out of the second prince. “And now hop onto my back, please. I’m going to carry you to the horse.” San caught Wooyoung’s eyes over his shoulder as he offered his back again, “I am going to protect you. I may have to accept that I won’t ever be able to keep every danger away from you. But I promise by my pride of a Choi warrior…”, San’s eyes were determined - an inferno of black fires that devoured his pupils with their flickering tongues, “… that I will always protect you to the last breath I’ll take. And I’m not only promising you that because of my title and profession, my honour nor my family name. I do it as your childhood friend, your partner and the other part of your soul.”

Wooyoung had gotten quiet, the crying had subsided as San suddenly ended his talk, thoughts catching up to what he had spoken and deeming it enough for right now. He waited for Wooyoung to climb on his back and this time he did.

San made sure to hold him tight and yet ever so gently – as San was unable to do anything but care for him like the highest of treasures of Azalea. Wooyoung was San’s treasure after all. The boy of his dreams, the smile lightening his memories and the prince he wanted to marry since he had turned 15. And yet…

San dragged one foot after another through the ever and ever-growing stronger rainstorm. Their black horse already in sight, tapping its horseshoes impatiently with a huff. San gritted his teeth.

… Yet, San had reclined the marriage.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The rain had lessened a bit since they had started their way back. San took a slightly different route than before, just to make sure that they wouldn’t get ambushed on the usual and shortest route back to the castle. It was a small path between conifers and nut trees. Occasionally, he heard the gabble of gooses in the swampy areas or the wings of a crow.

It had gotten quite dark – nighttime had almost broken in, but still early enough to decipher their surroundings in shades of grey. San slackened the reins and smiled as he watched Wooyoung reach out to pat the animal’s mane.

Wooyoung was sitting in front of San, both legs hanging on the right side as he was leaning heavily into San’s chest sideways. He was so tired, head not even lifting from his body once. San had chosen to make him sit there and he had to admit that he felt better like this too. Like this he could always see Wooyoung and adjust his tempo to his comfort. San had his left arm around Woo’s torso protectively while the other held the reins.

The trees were opening a bit and San strained his eyes to see a little pond at the side. Just a glance back down to the dirt and blood clinging to Wooyoung’s rosy cheeks made San tighten the strings, making the horse whiny. Wooyoung giggled lightly at the sound.

“It’s alright. It’s alright”, the prince soothed the horse, as he kept petting its mane.

San smiled while getting off the horse, lifting Wooyoung down too.

“What are we doing here?”, Wooyoung whined as he pulled his wet robe closer to his body, shivering in the late march day. San kept close contact to provide as much warmth as he could as he led him slowly – very, very slowly – to the stones at the pond’s edge. Wooyoung was not even limbing anymore, he was absolutely unable to walk with it. Whenever he applied the tiniest of pressure, it gave in, making his other foot come forward in a hurry.

San got really worried. This looked everything but right but as they found themselves sitting on the rocks close to the dark water, he still chose to clean the cut on his face first.

“I am so sorry”, San said as Wooyoung flinched when San had ripped a part of his own robe, soaked it in the cold water and pressed it against his cheek, “I want to clean the injuries really quickly, since it’s better to not leave them to the possibility of infection for so long.”

After the majority of blood had been wiped from the prince’s face, leaving his pale skin in the turquoise dark of the night. San moved quickly to his ankle, taking in a sharp breath as it was completely swollen beneath the bandages. The cold wet cloth helped relieve some pain as Wooyoung let out a breath, making the feeling of a fire ripping at his foot subside just a little.

They sat in silence the whole time while San’s thoughts were spiralling. Time after time, they had all asked him to take care of Wooyoung; even when they had been nothing but children, San knew that they were all relying on him – even San himself was relying on him – to keep Wooyoung safe.

“San?”, Wooyoung asked after a while. “It’s getting darker. I’m fine, we should see to hurry back home.”

What if Wooyoung despised him for being not strong enough to protect him? Would he rather have someone else like Jongho be on his side?

“Hey….”, Wooyoung put a hand on San’s arm, “San, I am alright. Please don’t worry. I don’t like seeing you like this, hm.”

“This is all my fault”, San whispered, eyes blank as he stared at the injured ankle in front of him.

Wooyoung frowned, “It’s clearly not.”

“I should have protected you.”

“You did”, Wooyoung smiled timidly, “Without you, I wouldn’t have been able to escape.”

“I just…”, San sighed heavily, “I just can’t stand seeing you get hurt. I- I despise myself.”

The words hurt more than any injury Wooyoung had ever obtained. The prince longed for San’s freezing cold fingers, squeezing them in an attempt to comfort.

“Please do not say things like that”, Wooyoung said with a quivering smile.

San’s eyes stayed lowered, “I can’t help it. My heart is screaming for your safety. And failing to provide you so makes me feel like I am not enough. Maybe protecting you until my last breath isn’t enough. I apologise and feel so sorry that I failed to keep you from hurting. That I failed to be what I am meant to be.”

“San.”

The warrior’s black hair hung like a veil in front of his eyes.

“San, look at me. I beg.”

As the warrior didn’t fulfil the prince’s wish, Wooyoung chose to do it himself, cupping San’s chin and lifting it until their eyes locked.

Wooyoung thought back to the words his father had so carefully chosen. This was their story, wasn’t it? It was Wooyoung’s and San’s decision and nobody else’s. Wooyoung had felt his heart nearly stop when San had carried him on his back and talked about keeping him safe and muttering promises to uphold not as the warrior he was born and trained to be but as the person closest to him. The one caring for him most. The one that had touched his soul and had left with a part of it. And now he had brought the part of his soul back. He had brought the feelings back. Everything.

A wet chuckle bubbled up the prince’s throat, “The only thing you are meant to be… is to be with me.”

The traitorous glimmering of tears in Wooyoung’s eyes made the moment feel even more real, when he leaned closer. San’s eyes widened as Wooyoung’s fluttered close slowly. His heart was longing forward, pressing San to lean into him, copying his movements.

San was weak.

He shut his eyes, leaning in to press his lips against Wooyoung’s in a hurry.

The sudden warmth that spread in both boys’ bodies was similar to those first spring days, when the sun shone through the leaves of the almond trees. San shifted, grabbing Wooyoung’s neck to keep him close as he pressed his lips harder against his; more desperately.

He had been dreaming of this moment since the day he had found Wooyoung sitting between the petals of almonds in a spring’s array. Wooyoung’s hands slid down from San’s chin over his shoulders to his chest, where he grabbed the front of his robe to pull him closer.

Forgotten was the rain wetting their clothes, the danger looming in the dark, the people probably starting to get suspicious back at the palace and the doubts they both had expressed multiple times.

There was nothing Wooyoung and San thought about except that day they had to go different ways. About those that they had spent beneath the trees of pink and white blossom. About everything they had done together and everything they had wanted to do but weren’t able to.

Wooyoung gasped for air shortly but was quickly met with San’s lips again, who didn’t want to let this illusion end. He didn’t care if it was real or not, didn’t care if he’d wake any second and it would have all been just a dream. If he could kiss Wooyoung just a second longer-

A subtle push on his chest made him draw back in the end though. He didn’t come far as Wooyoung made sure to press his forehead against San’s. Their eyes were still closed as they breathed heavily into the early night. Water dropped from their cold nose tips and chin. It took a while until Wooyoung dared to open his eyes, smiling just a bit as he saw San doing the same.

San placed his right hand on Wooyoung’s unharmed cheek, caressing it with so much care, with so much love.

With a quiet hum, Wooyoung leaned his head into the touch, smiling eerily. “You have always been enough.” Wooyoung hauled his arms around San’s neck, hugging him closer than ever before, “Always.”

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Wooyoung’s heart was still fluttering from their kiss when the palace’s gate came into vision. He fumbled nervously with the shard he had taken with him from the shop while his thoughts were a whirlpool. What did the kiss mean? Did San feel the same about him? Or was he just leaning in for the moment? Did he feel like it was his duty to kiss him back since he was meant to marry him after all…?

He needed to talk to someone about it and looking at the shard – he knew that there was only one person he could confide in.

The guards checked for their identity but let them pass quickly as they saw who they were and in what intimate position they were riding the horse. Wooyoung shifted a bit uncomfortably between San’s arms as he hid in his chest.

It was long after dinner and Wooyoung wondered if his family had questioned his absence further since he had told everyone who asked that he would spend the day with San.

As soon as they were back in the stall, San lifted Wooyoung down the horse, making the prince hiss. His ankle was really hurting. All the running must have made it worse. There was no way he could get around seeing the physician. He would ask questions for sure, but he knew that he could easily lie his way out of them. Wooyoung took off the dirty robe and rolled his shoulders until his bones cracked. He couldn’t wait to be out of those clothes and maybe even in a warm bath.

San did the same before he asked, “Should I carry you to the physician? Or should I carry you to your room and then get the physician?”

Wooyoung chuckled a bit, hiding his mouth behind one hand, “I love that you give no option other than seeing the physician. And carrying me.”

The expression on San’s face stayed serious. “I have seen your injuries and I want them to be treated right.”

“Yes, yes”, Wooyoung sighed as he waited for San to pick him up, blushing a bit as he felt so close to him again as back at the pond. A hand on his back, another under his knees. He shivered as he tried to not think about how the princess carry must look.

He ducked his head a bit as they came across some servants who kept giggling at them. What a sight, huh? They were both drenched, Wooyoung clinging tightly to San as he pressed the cheek with the cut against San so that nobody would see it, while San had his arms firmly tugged beneath his knees and back.

Just as they reached Wooyoung’s chambers, he frowned. Why was his door ajar? But before he could warn San that something was off, he already entered, freezing in the frame as they were both met with Seonghwa sitting on Wooyoung’s bed with a book.

“Seonghwa?”

The crown prince lowered the book, shutting it close loudly, looking at the couple entering. “Where have you both been?“ His eyes fell onto Wooyoung in San’s arm. Something in Seonghwa’s cold stare shifted as he must have seen the cut. Wooyoung was slow to cover it with his hands. “Oh my god, what happened?”, his brother got to his feet. “Why were you both outside in the rain for so long? Where is that cut from? Why are you being carried? Wooyoung!”

Wooyoung flinched. Oh well…

The younger prince had never thought about keeping it from his brother anyways. He had told San to not tell his parents but Seonghwa? Of course, he would. San went to lay Wooyoung into his bed, promising to be back with the physician in no time. Their hands lingered together for a bit too long, as if it physically hurt San to leave the room. He had asked if it was alright for him to leave him with Seonghwa alone, but Wooyoung appeased him and said he would handle this.

San was reluctant to leave but did so anyways and if it was just for Wooyoung to feel better.

As soon as the princes were alone, Seonghwa sat at the side of his bed, eyes serious yet worried. “Now, tell me. Where is that cut from? Did somebody attack you two? Where did you go to?”

Wooyoung’s thoughts were going in circles, and he played with some thoughts and ideas but dismissed them shortly. Unable to express himself in words, he just fumbled for that shard he had taken from the shop and handed it to Seonghwa.

His brother took it with a confused look but inspected it carefully. Wooyoung knew that he had recognised it too the moment his eyes widened into big orbs.

“Wooyoung, that is…”, Seonghwa’s voice trailed off, running his finger over the coating, before looking at Wooyoung in shock.

“I’m sorry”, Wooyoung whispered, turning his head away as he couldn’t stand to see the disappointment in Seonghwa’s eyes for another second.

“You…”, the older started but continued in a hushed voice, “You went to that ceramic shop?!”

Wooyoung swallowed but nodded. He just heard the stressed sigh.

“Did they give you that cut?”, Seonghwa asked madly. “I swear if they hurt you, I don’t know what I will do.”

The lack of an answer and hesitation was enough for Seonghwa to bite his lip and shake his head in anger. Oh, he would end someone.

“They had knives…”, Wooyoung simply stated and it pictured images in Seonghwa’s head that he would have never dared to imagine in his darkest nightmares.

Seonghwa rose his eyebrows like a madman, “And they chose to attack the country’s prince?”

Wooyoung didn’t say anything to that, but he didn’t need to as Seonghwa had heard enough.

“Please don’t be mad. I- I won’t do something like that again, I swear. I just thought that I could be useful and investigate but…”, Wooyoung rambled as Seonghwa stopped talking and it made him nervous. “Don’t tell our parents too! Please! Seonghwa, I can’t lose San! You know they would make him leave for being so reckless!!”

“Indeed, he was reckless”, Seonghwa hissed.

“It was my idea!”, Wooyoung quickly threw in.

“I already know that. San wouldn’t make you go to such place on his own free will”, Seonghwa sighed heavily, “That guy cares too much about you. As I do. I guess I can be grateful he went with you… since knowing you, you would have also left alone…” Seonghwa’s eyes were accusatory and Wooyoung didn’t dare to talk back as it was indeed exactly what he had planned to do if San had refused him.

“I won’t tell them”, Seonghwa said ultimately, running his fingers through Wooyoung’s damp hair. Seonghwa felt his brother shiver and smile sadly, hoping that he was going to be fine again in no time. “However, you and San are both under house arrest.”

“But-“

“No. I am certain you will be advised by the physician to not walk around anyways”, Seonghwa looked at Wooyoung’s injured ankle with a click of his tongue. “Just rest well, alright? I know you want to go to the ball of Persephone start of April. So please rest, so you can dance to your heart’s content?”

Wooyoung smiled at that. Seonghwa just always knew how to cheer him up. He knew that Seonghwa was disappointed and that was honestly what Wooyoung expected. It hurt but he was just glad that Seonghwa was never truly mad with him.

“I’m sorry for making you keep secrets…”, Wooyoung spoke in a shushed voice.

“If there is one person I’ll become a liar for – it’s for you.”

“And Hongjoong”, Wooyoung added with a soft giggle.

“And Hongjoong”, Seonghwa chuckled while shaking his head. The mention of his brother’s husband made Wooyoung think back to the moment at the pond, sitting so closely engulfed in San’s embrace and…

Wooyoung blushed heavily.

They – for the goddess’ freaking love – kissed!!

“I’ll get you dry clothes to change into and some tea”, Seonghwa announced but was swiftly stopped as Wooyoung reached for his wrist. The crown prince frowned at his hand. “Is there anything else you want to tell me? You can do so when San is back with the physician-“

“No, I can’t. I- I need to tell someone. I need to tell you, someone who understands and m-maybe has advice?”

The brother settled back onto the bad, the worried frown back again, “What is it?”

Wooyoung pressed his hands against his ribcage, hating the feeling of his heart beating thousand times per second. He squeezed his eyes shut as his feelings came to the forefront, making it hard to think straight. Sweat started to pearl on his forehead.

“I…”

Slowly, his fingers lifted to his lips where the kiss was still lingering whenever he closed his eyes.

“I love San.”

Chapter Text

The weather was finally taking a friendly tone and San made sure to rip off his jacket the second he exited the meeting room.

“It seems you couldn’t wait to escape that meeting, my Lord.”

San punished Yunho with a dark stare. “I would rather be somewhere else indeed.”

“Perhaps with Prince Wooyoung?”

Just hearing the prince’s name made his heart skip a beat. San’s advisor didn’t take the silence well, stemming his hands into his hips. “You still wish not to talk with me about why you are avoiding seeing the prince like a plague?”

San blushed, fanning himself with his hand, “I’m not avoiding him like the plague. I already told you that his injury has taken a turn for the worse. His ankle is broken and he needs as much rest as possible.”

Their steps echoed in the hallway. There was a surprising commotion at the end of the marble walls and San sighed. He really would like to just go back to his room and sit on his balcony. Exactly like he had done the last days too – thinking about Wooyoung, the kiss and his feelings that couldn’t be; trying to find an explanation why Wooyoung – Prince Wooyoung, his childhood best friend – had initiated a kiss.

“I have been your friend for too long to not know what’s up”, Yunho smirked but his eyes wandered to the commotion at the end, where some female servants had grouped. “What is going on there?”

The women were all clasping their hands a bit, looking happy as they all talked to someone. Their heads all leaned close to hear every bit of what they were told, giggling behind their hands. San frowned. “Would love to know that too”, the warrior said and made sure to approach the ladies with a firm arm behind his back as he approached them, his jacket held lazily in his other hand.

“I am certain! I have heard i-“

“Greetings, my ladies. I do not wish to disturb your rather excited conversation – I was just curious if it was about something I could equally celebrate.”

As soon as San had broken through their little circle, some of them squealed. San was surprised at the reaction as more than just one of them blushed heavily. He gave the women a good look, but they seemed a bit in awe seeing the warrior so close.

“Is that him?”, San heard one of them in the circle whisper to another, but pretended as though he hadn’t heard it.

“I – by no means – wanted to drop the mood. My apologies”, San bowed slightly, getting another round of squeaks and whispers. It seemed like whatever they had spoken about was not meant for his ears. He shot his advisor a quick look, who was standing a bit further away from the group of girls.

“We should ask if it is true!”, someone whispered.

“Are you wishing to be beheaded?!”

San smirked as he flattened the frill in front of his shirt, “I am rather amused by your whispers, although I sadly have to tell you that I am able to hear every word. Is there some gossip making rounds in the castle I should be aware of?”

Although San spoke it in a rather cold and formal voice, he was more amused by it then angry.

One of the younger servants bowed deeply before taking a step towards him, “I know this is none of our business as the royal life is something we should not disturb, but… we were just growing curious. D-does the second prince kiss well?”

“P-pardon”, San stuttered as his thoughts stumbled in his head.

The girl who had told the tales before was now also stepping closer, “Is it not true that Prince Wooyoung and you have kissed?”

The topic being so suddenly addressed by strangers made heat crawl up San’s neck. He felt himself start to sweat. Oh, how he wished he could get rid of this warm shirt hugging his skin.

His flustered state must have been enough indication for the truth as the woman squealed and giggled again.

“Does he kiss well then? Oh my- how many wish to be at your place.”

“I bet his lips are so soft, they look like they are!”

“The prince is so lucky with a man like you, isn’t he?”

“Were you on the way to his chambers?”

Awkwardly, San cleared his throat. His face was plastered red. “Uhrm…”, he started wetting his lips with his tongue. Shit, what… what was happening.

Yunho wasn’t of much help as he gave San a disappointed look that he had kept that secret from him and had to hear it from a group of servants first. He would leave him to suffer in the excitement of the ladies.

“I’m afraid…”, San started wiping his jacket over his collarbone to get rid of some pearls of sweat.

“Are my servants bothering you by any chance?”

He didn’t even need to lift his gaze. The way the vowels rolled over his tongue, the honey tone and luring accent. San wanted to melt into a puddle and escape this situation. His mind had already been a mess from all the political talk before. From all the suspicions about the acid and attacks. And just as he had been out of it, he was not even met with the fact that their secret had slipped into the lower ranks, but with Wooyoung himself.

“Are you fearing that my eyes could petrify you, or why are you not looking at me?”

The women around chuckled at Wooyoung’s words and even more as San looked to Wooyoung just to take a sharp breath.

Yeosang stood right next to Wooyoung, holding his hand while the other arm was wrapped around his shoulders.

A pang went through his heart. It was clear that Yeosang was merely helping Wooyoung to walk – if the way Wooyoung leaned into him and the thick bandages around his feet weren’t a dead indicator – yet, San couldn’t help his mind to scream at him, that it should be him holding Wooyoung like that.

“Wooyoung”, San said the women watching them who he had almost forgotten, “Are you well?”

“Better”, the prince chuckled, “Not well – as you can see.” He wiggled with the bandaged foot a bit. “I have been missing you. The days have been long while I waited for you to visit me at my bed.”

San knew how it was meant – he definitely knew – and yet his mind instantly showed him memories of them laying together in bed, tangled with each other as they bathed in the shared warmth of the blanket. He saw the way he had covered Wooyoung’s whole body under his own and it made the warrior see stars.

San bowed to hide his blush, “I apologise, I was busied with chores and meetings to attend. Nothing of that is an excuse to not see you in your recovery once, of course.”

“But that is no problem, is it?”, one of the servants spoke up. “You could make it up with a date- I mean, a brunch with tea?”

Oh no. He was still not sure what to think of the kiss and Wooyoung and-

“That’s a splendid idea!”, Wooyoung exclaimed with stars in his eyes, “I want that. San, please.”

San straightened his back, cringing as he cursed the girl in his head, “How could I ever say no to that-“

“Great!”, Wooyoung chirped, and San wondered if Wooyoung perhaps had forgotten about the kiss, about their trip to the shop. How was he so happy? So carefree? Did he think it had been a slip-up? A mistake?

Sometimes, San wished to have access to the prince’s thoughts, so he could just see what he was thinking.

Wooyoung looked so stunning in this dim light that San couldn’t help but feel all those feelings bubble up again. Every butterfly that had been born since the first second he laid eyes on him. He saw Wooyoung’s smile falter as he waved, “Then we do that. Tomorrow?”

Wooyoung didn’t look as happy as before anymore and it pained San even more – all he wanted was to share the excitement, but the insecurities made him despair.

“Yes, that is alright”, Wooyoung said after giving Yeosang a short glance – probably asking in silence if there were any schedules coming up.

“If you excuse me…”, San murmured, Yunho right on his heels as he left with a blush creeping on his face. Oh, by all heavens, what should he do with those feelings?

“A kiss, huh? Seems like I have lost my privileges to know things first.”

San rolled his eyes at his advisor’s words. “It’s nothing important”, he said while clasping his hot cheeks.

The way his hands shook gave him away though and he knew Yunho had seen as he snorted. “Oh, for sure… to repeat the question from the ladies…”

San fished for his pocket watch in a hurry.

“Does he kiss well?”

The round object slipped through San’s fingers, making him crunch with his jaw. He sighed annoyed and kicked it with his polished shoes, “Shut up.”

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

It was unfair of them all to interfere with Wooyoung’s and his relationship like that. San had it all planned out after all. Or had he? He wasn’t quite sure. He never was if he was honest. Yunho had made it sound so easy when they first decided to stay here. Just court him like everyone would. However, it wasn’t easy to court your best childhood friend who had you marked as nothing more from day one.

“San.”

San flinched at the memory. The sullen voice singing in his head, telling tales San never thought to be true.

“San, look at me. I beg.”

He looked in the mirror, seeing the dark bags under his eyes. How many nights had his summerly laugh had kept him awake, the fear of losing him – be it to death’s hand or to another man. San. Couldn’t. Bear. It.

“The only thing you are meant to be… is to be with me.”

As if occupied by red ants, San felt it prickle on his lips. A faint memory for something he doubted to be true. It had only been one week at best, still it felt so long that San couldn’t even remember anymore if it really happened. He had decided to ignore Wooyoung for this time, promising himself that he’d figure it all out.

And now he was standing in front of the golden mirror – still showing him his appearance with little cracks in the lower right corner – not smarter by a bit.

Some date with tea… He took a shaky breath as he tore the royal blue jacket off his shoulders. “No that is not it.”

He had already tried numerous jackets, but none seemed to appease his nervous mind. He would have just left with the button up shirt, if he hadn’t been informed that the tea was taking place in the garden; the pavilion.

He himself wasn’t even that bothered by the cold, he already feared for the prince to freeze to death if he was to wear anything shorter or lighter. San knew that Wooyoung loved to impress people with his varied wardrobe, but he didn’t deem this a good opportunity now…

San sighed at his reflection as his mind told him that the new jacket he tried was also no good, since it was colder, and he already planned to give it to Wooyoung at some point to keep him warm. Again, he was thinking about the prince’s health; lately, that seemed to be all he was doing. However, he didn’t think about that as malicious – quite the contrary. Keeping Wooyoung warm and safe was his greatest pleasure.

“For someone who isn’t looking forward at all to the date, you are making quite a fool out of yourself for your lack of decision for your clothing, my Lord.” The black-haired boy snorted as he closed the door quietly, on his left hand were some jackets piled.

“I am following the etiquette.”

“The etiquette of courting, my Lord.”

San side-eyed the bouquet of pink roses he had told Mingi to get yesterday. A red blush joined the other pigments on his cheek as he scratched the back of his head.

Yunho put the jackets onto the edge of San’s bed. “I can’t believe that you are still trying to fight your feelings for the prince. After all that happened…” He spread the first jacket, giving it a judging look before scrunching his nose and taking the next.

San ran a stressed hand through his hair. He needed to style it a bit more before leaving. “Me trying to protect my heart is not equal to denying my feelings. I am merely trying to stay sane.”

“Pfff.”

San punished Yunho with a hard, dark look – catching the jacket his advisor threw his way. It was a moss green coat, reaching to his upper thighs a brown plaid pattern inside. It was one of his favourite coats for leisure activities. He fixed the collar, smiling just a bit as he felt that he finally settled on something.

The scoff on Yunho’s face flickered through the mirror, he folded his arms, “Staying sane while being hopelessly in love?”

The button San was about to close ripped off as the words aggregated his mood, his eyebrows twitching as he watched the button jump off and across the room where it settled somewhere in the corner next to the fireplace. His fingers tensed into fists before he ripped off the coat with a growl.

It had been perfect!!

“Yes”, San just said dryly to not get angrier. He had never tried to hide his feelings from himself. From nobody at all, except Wooyoung himself.

Yunho handed him a new jacket, unimpressed by the broken button. Dark grey, like the sky outside. It hopefully didn’t rain as San was not really into seeing Wooyoung saddened by the weather.

It hugged his waist a bit more and flowed further down to his knees. It wasn’t as special as the other but would do the job. With a little sigh, San ran his fingers through his hair, reaching for the hair powder and crème to keep his strands in place.

“I thought that matters of the heart would be a private thing”, San mumbled as he tried to flick back the lonely strand on his forehead, but it remained stubborn.

Yunho chuckled light-heartedly, “They may be, my Lord. They may… if your heart did not settle on the prince of Azalea.”

The warrior scoffed and reached for the bouquet.

“In the higher ranks you do not just marry. I think I don’t need to tell you on how important such a decision is – especially for the royal family. You should know better than to assume that you can live a hidden love life with the second prince.”

“I am indeed not living a secret love life with the second prince.”, San stated loudly as he pulled the door open, startled as he was met with the shook faces of some servants and guards – all looking his way.

Oh my-

San cleared his throat, adjusting his collar as he suddenly felt hot in the outfit.

Yunho pushed San out of his doorframe into the cold marble hallways. “No worries, my Lord. It is no secret anymore.”

Wooyoung huffed with a happy smile, eyes sparkling, as he turned in circles in front of the mirror. His heart felt as light as the melody sung by the birds outside. There was a soft glimmer on his dark red satin dress, sun shining so brightly. Wooyoung loved this dress, hugging his knees in pretty folds, a heart shaped décolleté flowing to sleeves hanging low on his arms. His caramel skin laid barren, showing his collarbones and neck.

“You look fantastic, my prince”, Yeosang said from behind him as he stepped close to pull his hair into a half-up, putting little red flowers into the curls.

Like a red rose, blooming, growing. Wooyoung smiled. What is that feeling? He pressed a hand against his chest. Such warmth…

“You look happy, my prince.”

The chuckle that came from Wooyoung sounded like the incarnation of the sun as he looked to Yeosang. “I think I have found my peace. My place.” He reached for the white fan at the table, rushing it open.

Yeosang cracked an eyebrow, “Peace with what?”

My feelings… Wooyoung covered his growing blush with the fan, “With what my father told me. He was right after all. It’s my story.”

The servant couldn’t really interpret the words, frown deepening as he just shook his head. “His Majesty being right is nothing new to me. What was your conversation about?” He held open the door of Wooyoung’s chambers as he waited for the prince to follow.

Wooyoung clipped his cloak around his shoulders, “Love.” The prince ignored the surprised flinch of his servant as he just limped out of his room. He still smiled, touching his lips as he thought about a certain someone again.

Maybe Wooyoung was naïve. Maybe he was wrong. But maybe… maybe he was just in love. He giggled a bit to himself as he passed hallway after hallway. Guards greeted him with a smile and for the first time since long ago, Wooyoung didn’t feel like his heart was fighting against his head but beating with his thoughts in a rhythm.

As the giant doors came into the view, he gripped the ends of his dress in excitement. The guards in their shimmering white uniform nodded to the prince, bowing before opening the doors – Wooyoung supported himself at the door, slipping through with a happy smile on his lips.

The sun greeted him first, making the prince squint before shielding his eyes. A violet butterfly crossed his vision and Wooyoung couldn’t keep his lips from pushing up and up. He unclipped his cloak as it was far warmer as expected.

“It seems like you have chosen a great day for a tea date in the pavilion”, Yeosang commented with stars in his eyes at the warm weather.

“A tea date? Am I perhaps invited?”, another voice greeted and Wooyoung couldn’t stop the giggle from escaping.

“I am afraid not so”, Wooyoung hid his laugh behind the white fan. “Unless you want to be the third wheel on the table.”

An ounce of sadness crossed Jongho’s eyes, or was it just Wooyoung’s imagination? The soldier with the lavender soft hair stood in his ordinary uniform, shoulders in armour and a sword clipped to his belt but otherwise very casually dressed.

“I do not recommend. Being in the presence of those two lovebirds can be tiring”, Yeosang chuckled amused. His laughter was soft and light and made Jongho take his eyes from the prince.

Suddenly, Jongho’s expression changed. His smirk fell to an honest expression, mouth agape as his eyes formed orbs – just taking in the sight of Wooyoung with Yeosang.

Jongho must have realised his sudden change in behaviour and cleared his throat before somebody would notice. Wooyoung already had though, and he pressed his lips together as he had a feeling what this was about. He looked to Yeosang smiling at Jongho and Jongho stealing glances at the blonde boy.

Yes… Wooyoung closed his eyes as he concentrated on his excited heartbeats. It feels familiar. Feels like… His grey eyes opened. “Why aren’t you helping Yeosang to prepare the tea? I know that those are usually not the duties of yours, but I am sure Yeosang could use an extra pair to carry the heavy plates.”

The plates had never been heavy. And Yeosang had never needed help with anything ever since serving him.

And yet, it didn’t seem like Yeosang was complaining, just a bit blushing as he threw Wooyoung a shy look.

“I’ll go to the pavilion”, Wooyoung smiled.

Yeosang bowed before leaving with Jongho next to him. “Make sure to not strain your injury!”

Wooyoung folded his arms as he watched them walk away. “San will take the bestest of care of me, I assure.”

Just as they thought they were out of Wooyoung’s earshot, he heard the guard speak up. “My name is Choi Jongho. Pleasure to meet you Yeosang. I think I have seen you at my ball perhaps?”

There was a little pause.

“Most likely. I have seen you too as your hair is rather striking.”

“Do you dislike it?”

Yeosang hummed in disagreement, “I wouldn’t say so… lavender are my favourite flowers.”

The prince couldn’t stop smiling as they were out of his ears’ reach.

Wooyoung shook his head, giggling as he slowly stepped over the big stones embedded in the path to the pavilion. From one foot to another.

The closer he got, the thicker the flowers grew here. Trees of blooming peaches framed the scene, a light breeze making the pink fall from the trees and covering the steps leading up to the marble construction. Wooyoung smiled up at the roof covered in white sleeping roses and hanging ivy. With time the pavilion had lost the fight against nature, but his family had grown to like it and his mother had even hired a gardener to take care of it – resulting in the fairytale it now represented.

Wooyoung ascended the stairs, hands folded in his back. He hummed a little melody as his heart started to accelerate. The table in the middle was already set with two chairs.

Two chairs.

His heart felt like giving up on him.

A chair for him and the other…

“It seems like they have prepared quite well for us.”

Wooyoung shrieked at the sudden breath against his ear, turning and taking a step back and another, stumbling and-

San caught him, an arm wrapped around his lower back as Wooyoung was about to crash into the table. The warrior looked from Wooyoung’s face, wandering over his chest and collarbones with curious eyes, a little amused glint in his eyes. One corner of his mouth was twitching upwards.

“Careful, my prince. How is your ankle doing?”, he murmured in slight worry as he pulled Wooyoung close and back on his feet, not stepping back though, standing chest to chest with him.

The prince was caught in the swirling dark of San’s eyes. Had they always been so captivating? Wooyoung caught himself lean in just a bit, before backing away and rushing his fan open between their faces. “It’s quite alright.”

They remained in silence, just the chirping of some birds, wings flapping in the naked branches of trees.

Wooyoung’s breathing went a thousand times a second when San dipped his head to the side with a soft smile. The warrior’s eyes started to gleam as he slowly closed the fan with one finger until the wall between them was gone.

Showing his white teeth, San cracked his eyes and lips in a smile, while Wooyoung was a blushing mess.

“Beautiful”, San said before he went to the chair to his right, pulling it back. He longed for the prince’s hand to help him walk and Wooyoung started to… feel. To feel those things again. Those butterflies, those sun rays, those crippling lady bugs inside his chest, that weird string on his lips that pulled them into a smile at any given possibility.

San was so careful with him – like he had always been.

When they were both seated, it didn’t take long until Yeosang and Jongho came with their teas. Although San looked confused seeing Jongho, he didn’t ask further as he saw how good they talked with each other.

Wooyoung thanked them both as they brought the trays back, leaving them all to themselves. They smelled like a mix of flowers. Some biscuits laid on the table too. Wooyoung was unsure what to do as San watched him all the time.

The warrior looked great, Wooyoung had to swallow a few times until he was able to talk as his throat felt dry.

“I… have missed you?”, Wooyoung started as he shifted awkwardly. Oh boy…

San chuckled softly as he reached for a spoon and whirled it in his cup a bit, “I missed you more. You have no idea.” The warrior reached forward a bit, doing the same motion with Wooyoung’s tea before sitting down with a judging look, accessing the spoon before laying it down with a content sigh.

Wooyoung blushed as he realised what he had been doing, “F-for someone who has missed me so much, you did not feel the need to visit me once while my foot had me bedridden.”

The silence following his words made Wooyoung uncomfortable, but the moment he looked to San he felt bad for his words. The warrior looked like a kicked puppy, agony in his eyes as one of his hands on the table curled into a fist.

San took a napkin folding it with shaking fingers.

“I…”, he took a deep breath. “I couldn’t bear to see you as I don’t feel like I deserve it. I was the one who had disappointed you and let yourself get injured in the first place.”

Wooyoung blew his tea, scrunching his nose at the hot steam tickling him. “You are such a stupid idiot.”

San sputtered on his tea, coughing into the napkin as soon as he had put it down. “My p-pardon?”

The little sigh from Wooyoung’s sigh flew into a chuckle. One corner of his lips pulled up while his gaze was bittersweet. “When will you ever understand?”

San shook his head, “I understand that you don’t feel like it is my duty to protect you. But I, my heart, and everyone around us does. Letting the second prince get injured is… so shameful. How can I look into the mirror knowing that all my strength is not worth it when my arms fail me the moment I need to catch you.”

“But you did”, Wooyoung rested his cheek into his palm, “Just now. Despite that, you do. I feel safe with you, I-“ The conversation was kind of weird. He had never talked so openly with San about it. He felt the blood rushing to his cheeks, biting his lower lip. His fingers already curled into the fan but left it closed on the table. “I never felt unsafe with you. Even if I get a scratch or hurt my feet, I always feel protected in- in your arms.”

Wooyoung swallowed heavily, feeling like a whole stone needed to go down his throat, making his eyes tear up the slightest bit. He took a shaky breath in as he hugged his own arms, averting his gaze.

It had taken Wooyoung long, yes. But now he finally knew the course of his heart that he…

Wooyoung blushed even more, crimson was pale next to him as he hid his face behind his hands.

He loved San.

A low chuckle got him out of his hiding spot. San’s cute dimples throned on his honey like skin. “That is a relief to know. I am happy that I can provide you that feeling.”

Wooyoung’s eyes lit up, reaching out with his hands a bit, eager to hold San’s resting hands.

“However, I do believe that the… kiss”, San had spoken the word in such a low voice that Wooyoung was unsure at first if he had really said it, “it was a mistake.”

Wooyoung’s fingers curled in themselves, retreating from San’s hands before they could reach it. What?

Had he always read the signals wrong? Or had there just… never been more? Wooyoung recalled the day San had arrived, closing him in his arms in the warmest hugs he had ever gotten. The way he had lifted him and spun him in the air. Wooyoung had not even be able to put his feelings in a box as he had never in his life thought he’d see San that day. His San! His… San…

“I don’t approve of the marriage, Woo”, San had whispered back then right in front of his parents. His heart clenched.

Wooyoung lowered his eyes with a tormented smile. “You… yeah.” He did not have the strength to argue further. He would rather have those few months living a lie than getting his heart crushed now. Were his feelings really that… one-sided? Was this really just a really good friendship to San?

It seemed like the topic was lost after that. San had asked him about his injury, about his duties and about his last weeks. Wooyoung made sure to answer but couldn’t help but feel numb from his fingertips to his toes.

The kiss was a mistake, huh…

Wooyoung forced a smile onto his lips whenever Yeosang came to bring more tea, to stock up their food and snacks and-

By all heavens!! Wooyoung loved San!

The prince could not take this longer. It was so… so painful?! Being with San although his heart desired to be much closer. If he could throw that table to the side to fall into San’s arms and-

“Wooyoung?”

Furiously, Wooyoung blinked back into reality. W-when had his mind keeled over like that? When had his childhood best friend become so much more and why…why did it hurt so much?

The prince took the cup of tea, downing the remaining half of it in one go before standing up.

“I wanna take a walk”, his eyes were piercing, “Come with me.”

It wasn’t a question, nor a statement to deny. San locked eyes with him not moving for a second, before he came along. Not questioning the order at all.

The meadows swayed in the glistening white sun. San swore that he had never felt that cold with Wooyoung. The prince was walking in front of him, a rhythmic but serious pace as San just made sure to follow. When he had come back to the castle things had certainly been … different. He had felt the scar from all those years rip open. He felt those raw feelings again, those happy tears brim in his eyes when he thought about Wooyoung for a second too long. Breathless, whenever Wooyoung looked his way. San was not someone who blushed easily and yet he felt like it was his new unlocked ability since he arrived. Everything he had felt when he had confessed his love for Wooyoung to his mother at the age of 15, everything felt so much worse now. So much stronger.

The peach petals rained on them and San watched some of them get tangled in Wooyoung’s hair. Oh, how he wished to reach up, pull it out, pull the silky strand between his fingers. Getting closer into his space and just… just feel those plump lips on his again. San shook his head. Wooyoung had been in a state of panic and injured, there was no way he would have kissed San of free will. There was no way and yet-

San crunched with his teeth.

Why had Wooyoung been the one initiating it? It messed with San’s head and sleep. Yunho had been making fun of him for quite some days. Him and the dark bags beneath his eyes. San wondered if Wooyoung had detected them through the heavy make-up he had applied to not give Wooyoung a shock.

The red dress Wooyoung wore swayed from one side to the other and San had to take a sharp breath after another as it felt harder and harder to breathe.

Where was he leading him? Why was he not talking?

San hated how being with Wooyoung always felt that easy and difficult at once. It was so… hard…

Suddenly the prince stopped in front of one of their fountains, making San follow accordingly. The prince turned and once again it robbed San of his breath.

“By all the gods…”, San whispered and what did he care that Wooyoung may have heard. Wooyoung looked simply breathtaking in this light, the red shimmering in the shade of his full and seducing lips.

Both were so awkward about it; shouldn’t it have been nothing but easy for them from the start?

Hadn’t fate given them everything they needed?

Maybe it did…

Maybe it always had…

Before San could voice just any of his thoughts a little wind made the prince long to his hair, cursing as his flower clips fell and landed in the shallow clear water with a little ‘blop’.

“Oh”, San pressed as he ran over and reached to the water at the same time as Wooyoung did. Both bumped into each other trying to fish it from the water. San was the first to fall but Wooyoung was shortly after,

The splash echoed in the quiet gardens of the royal palace. A bird resting on the side of the fountain set off with a panicked chattering.

When San opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was Wooyoung kneeling in the water next to him, water drops glistening on his skin. For a second, he looked shocked but then the prince looked to San and fell in clangourous laughter.

“You are all wet!”, he cackled, holding his stomach. The sun glittered in his dark hair and dark skin and San could not help but laugh too.

“So are you”, he sat up from his lying position, crawling closer to the prince.

The warrior couldn’t get enough from Wooyoung laughing so carefree. He was always sweet, always laughing and always adorable beyond heavens. But right here and right now, Wooyoung was that boy San had fallen in love with years ago. His best friend and soulmate.

He pulled Wooyoung softly closer at his waist until their lips interlocked. Wooyoung hummed into the kiss, eyes shutting close as he pulled San close. His tongue wandered over his lips, licking the water from the faint of his skin before diving deeper into the kiss. The warmth bubbling in San’s stomach made him curl his fingers more into the fabric of the satin dress. He could never be close enough to Wooyoung. Never.

With heavy pants, Wooyoung retreated, looking at San with heavy lidded eyes. He reached up to intertwine his hands behind the warrior’s neck. “I thought kissing me was a mistake?”

San leaned closer until their lips were not an inch separated, “I never said I’m a perfect man.”

He had never despised the cold months as much as now as he had to restrain himself from kissing Wooyoung into oblivion when he didn’t want the prince to be bedridden for weeks again.

Although a bed would have come quite in handy just then…

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

San felt like his dream suddenly came true. He was waiting for the day he’d wake up and nothing that happened the last weeks was real. He felt so light and happy, everything was a bit brighter after those dark days and San enjoyed just spending the time casually with Wooyoung. They hadn’t kissed since the time after the date, but San didn’t entirely feel like it was wrong. Wooyoung had never looked uncomfortable in any way – quite the contrast.

“San! Come! Follow me, haha!” Wooyoung’s bright laughter ringed in the marble halls, as he pulled Wooyoung down the rooms.

“Where are we going?”, San laughed as he stumbled after the prince.

The prince looked right and left before pushing San through the door of his chambers. He closed it with a mysterious glint in his eyes, releasing a relieved breath as soon as he had the door closed behind his back. “Phew, nobody has seen, I think.”

San loosened his collar a bit, “And that would have been a problem?” The risen eyebrow made the prince bicker.

“Yes, of course! I am not meant to show you.”

San swallowed as Wooyoung came closer, pushing San back until his legs hit the edge of San’s bed and his knees buckled in until he sat at the blanket.

“Sit there”, Wooyoung said pushing his chest down. All of a sudden, San felt all fuzzy and warm as he looked up to Wooyoung.

“What is it that you want to show me?”, he asked but couldn’t help imagining scenarios beyond his wildest of dreams.

Wooyoung leaned to San’s ear, “The ball of Persephone is next week. Help me decide on a dress?”

San widened his eyes. So that was what this all was about. The warrior nodded eagerly.

“Great!”, Wooyoung chirped rushing behind a divider. “Stay there! Don’t come here!”, he screeched making San laugh.

“I won’t. I won’t.”

He heard the ruffling of clothes and just now realised that he was able to see the faintest of shadows through the thin wall, making him blush as he watched Wooyoung undress. Even if it was nothing but a silhouette, it shot a shiver from his head to toe.

Holy shit…

San cleared his throat as he averted his gaze, taking off his waistcoat. Had it been so hot in March all the time?

“Just wait a bit more!!”, Wooyoung shouted, making San huff.

The first one was a dress in peach colours. There were red flowers draped all over the fabric. No sleeves, shoulders and collarbones in the open. Wooyoung twirled around, making the semi-transparent fabric swirl up like the petals of a flower. He wore long red gloves reaching all the way to his elbows as he blew San a cheeky kiss.

San gaped.

“T-that’s-“

“Next one!”, Wooyoung shouted as he already vanished behind the divider again, leaving San flustered.

Well… this… could get a bit… difficult. Deep breaths, San. Calm down. You have seen Wooyoung a million times already. You are already aware that he looks prettier every time you see him. It’s no secret anymore. No secret that Park Wooyoung is just so-

“And how’s that?”

The warrior’s head jumped up and he wished he would have prepared himself a bit more for the sight. Oh, by all the angels…

Green like fresh grass was the first San saw. Golden embroidery was all over the flowy wide skirt of the dress - flowing like forest’s wings in waves and folds to the floor. His chest was covered in floral golden ornaments, biceps covered in short transparent green sleeves. Wooyoung stepped out with a playful skip, his hands were in golden short gloves as he held his curly hair up to simulate an up-do.

San sat up just a bit straighter, his throat resembling a desert. He feigned a cough as he felt the drought rasp in his breaths. “Wooyoung, you… you look”, he coughed again and even more as he watched Wooyoung drag his right hand over his collarbones from one shoulder to the other. “Stunning?”, San rasped, three octaves higher than usual.

Wooyoung let his hair drop with his expression. “So, it’s no good.”

“Wha-!?”

In the blink of an eye, Wooyoung disappeared behind the wall again. “I have more!”

MORE!?

San was becoming dizzy.

The third dress felt like a midsummer night’s dream. The yellow that greeted San’s eyes was soft. Not too bright not too pale. Just the colour that accentuated his skin the most, making his glossy black hair shine even more. The skirt had multiple layers falling over a simple crème coloured skirt. The ends of the yellow layers were adorned with soft peach fabric; the same colours the roses had that were sprawled all over the folds of the dress. Pale green leaves were all beneath the flowers. The sleeves once again laid around his upper arms, thinner than the last ones but still holding tight around the skin. He looked like the goddess of summer had sent him personally as the layers of skirt swayed around his ankles.

San stood up from his seat. Oh, dear goddess. San felt like he’d lose his mind if he just sat there watching from the edge of the bed for another second. His breaths had accelerated, blinking like a maniac as he swallowed hard. “I have no words to describe how beautiful you are. Wooyoung… Please, you look like… Like…”

Like the boy I have always wanted, his mind concluded making him blush. Shit.

“You are so damn pretty”, San said in awe as Wooyoung let the skirt of the dress sway from one side to the other.

“Hmm”, Wooyoung hummed, tipping his chin, “I think I do have another.”

Another?!!?!

San felt like falling from heaven. “I- I think, I- You should take them all. I’m-“

“Just one last! Really the last! I promise!!”

A desperate little laugh escaped San. No. In no ways he could take another dress. Oh, his poor little heart.

“Wooyoung”, he started as he stepped a bit closer to the divider.

“Just a second!!”

San leaned closer to the wall between them with a sigh, “I really think you looked gorgeous in all of them, you should- oh my…”

Butterflies… San was close to tears as he saw the multiple small baby blue butterflies littered over the fabric of the dress, gathering at the upper part and waist. Some of them were reaching over the thick folds of the skirt where they pooled at the ends again. The cutout was deeper, showing more chest while the sleeves where full of the butterflies making Wooyoung look like straight out of one of those tales their parents had loved to tell them when they were younger. White but transparent long gloves reached all the way up to his elbows, pearls sitting at the knuckles and butterflies sitting on his arms like he was some fairy.

“What do you think?”, Wooyoung asked, turning and making the dress flow, reaching for his hair again, but the prince’s hands got suddenly caught by San, who leaned in, slowly closing his eyes but frowned as his lips did not meet warm soft lips, but the palm of a hand.

He leaned back, looking at Wooyoung in confusion.

Wooyoung was a bit red around his nose, “I- I just wondered. After all, … You said you do not wish to marry me when you arrived here and n-now we kiss all the time and I-“

San blushed at that, getting a bit distance between themselves.

“Do you like me?”

What? San felt like his heart stopped beating, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. WHAT!?

“I- I just wondered…”, Wooyoung hurried out with a peachy blush on his cheeks. “If you… still… don’t want to marry me…”

He… he couldn’t just say it. San couldn’t just say it, or could he? He wanted to know what Wooyoung was feeling first, but it would be stupid if he replied to his question with another question. No, San, you shouldn’t be such a coward. Haven’t you been hiding too long already? Just tell hi-

“’Cause… I…”, Wooyoung was so red in his face that in other situations San would have checked his temperature already, “I… kinda…”, his voice was nothing but a whisper like the one of a mouse. “I kinda like- I kinda like y-you.”

San suddenly felt that rays of sun. Those butterflies going wild. Those spring feelings bloom in his chest. He…

Wooyoung… he…

San grinned over both ears, cupping Wooyoung’s cheeks oh-so-carefully before leaning down in the sweetest of kisses they would ever share.

Chapter Text

“I wonder what dress he will wear”, San voiced as he rode the carriage with his advisor. He scratched his chin in thought, trying to remember what dresses Wooyoung had shown him back then. “I am sure he will look marvellous once again.”

His advisor chuckled, “Are you excited? You said you were planning to tell him tonight.”

An uneasy feeling spread in his chest. Now that Wooyoung voiced his interest, San could not look away anymore. It was true that his heart was behind a closed seal, but San chose to open it up for Wooyoung to finally take.

The first trees already harboured leaves as they sprinkled green into the grey surroundings. The sun was shining brightly as it was not long after noon. The ball of Persephone resembled a spring ball – always decorated in fine bouquets of flowers and colours of pastel. San had made sure to wear his dark blue suit, a pale green shirt beneath. He had let the queen put flower embroidery on his sleeves and collar. San truly felt like the beginning of a new year, the blooming life in the gardens of the palace.

“We are here, my Lord”, a servant said, opening the door with a bow.

“Took us long enough”, he tried to mask his disappointment in Mingi’s skills as a coachman. They were late by a bit since Mingi got stuck in some muddy holes. The winter was taking its leave but leaving behind the remnants of ice and snow.

“My Lord!”, Yunho called as San had already stepped out of the carriage, turning just in time to catch the dark blue mask. “It’s a masquerade, don’t forget.”

San rolled his eyes before putting it on. He’d probably not forget, also already dreading the fact that he wouldn’t see his angel in full glory, face behind a mask.

The great palace of the capital was usually the place for political and military discussions, but today it would make couples and pairs spin to the music of cellos and violins. He could already hear the dramatic rhythm sounding from inside. Even outside were tons of people, chatting and talking. They all had a content smile on their lips as they bathed in the sun of early spring. The walls and balustrades of the stairs were covered in flower festoons. At the front door stood two ladies distributing flowers to the people entering.

Yellow fabric. Pink Roses. San smirked as the dress in front of him was just too familiar to oversee. He watched him from aside. Gosh, Wooyoung is beautiful. The yellow dress suited him so well, falling in the wide rushing to the ground. His hair looked so cute. It was plaited in two little tails ending at the end of his neck. Tightly interlaced from the top of his head were two long parts of cloth in the same pattern than the dress, plaited into the braids and flowing way further down than his hair reached. It created the illusion of Wooyoung having long hair, pigtails reaching to his lower back, making San think of his long hair again. Of old times and childhood memories.

The prince laughed slightly; smile hidden by a fan – a white fan. San smiled.

“I wish to join the laughter, if that is alright”, San interrupted the prince talking to the lady who had just given him a pink rose.

The prince jolted but looked up to San with awe in his eyes. As expected, his face was covered by a mask – a mask laying in golden ornaments and three big pink roses at the right side of it.

“San!”, he said happily.

Instead of answering, San took Wooyoung’s hand, spinning the prince elegantly before pulling him close, Wooyoung’s hands laid on San’s chest, sadly full of the fan and the flower but yet he was pressed so closely that San could see the red creeping on his face beneath the mask.

“Yes, my breathtaking beauty?”, San mumbled, making Wooyoung’s breath hitch. “I wish for nothing but your laugh and happiness. However, so must I ask, would you allow me to be your company for today’s ball?”

Wooyoung searched for words, mouth open as he didn’t manage to form any coherent word. San looked so good and handsome in his suit, his hair was styled back sexily and Wooyoung bit back his whine as he couldn’t fawn about him in public like that.

Or… could he?

Wooyoung giggled as he ushered the fan open between their faces as he had done so many times before. “I am rather pleased by your offer. I’d like to take it.”

San smiled and Wooyoung smiled and for the first time since the warrior had arrived, he felt those magic sparks reach Wooyoung and form into something so special that San couldn’t help himself but laugh in excitement.

The stairs laid covered with petals as San had eyes for Wooyoung and Wooyoung only. The pair crossed the floor while holding hands, the carpet leading them all the way up to the grand halls. Women and men were already twirling in the dramatic trumpets of the beat. The sun shone through the wide windows full of pink and green stained glass, giving the room a magical spark.

“Wow, it’s so pretty”, Wooyoung gushed as he tightened his pink gloved hand around San’s in a dark blue. “It feels like we are in a fairytale.”

It truly felt like that…

“What do you want to do?”, San asked, making Wooyoung chuckle.

“Do you even need to ask?”

San smiled. “Do you want to find Yeosang to hand him your fan and flower first?”

“Yes, please.”

The warriors heart clenched in excitement as Wooyoung talked so formally and polite with him. It always made him so flustered and yet he wouldn’t want it another way. They found the servant of the second prince in a corner, talking to Seonghwa and Hongjoong it seemed. San knew that the king and queen weren’t present as they were not needed to attend and rather chose to spend their time differently. The ball of Persephone was held in the capital not far from the palace, while the Snowdrop ball had been in Marigold which was really far away, so it was good to check in with the further cities once in a while.

Protection wise, San had already seen the shaggy hair of headguard Junhyo around and multiple guards patrolling in striking red uniforms, unlike the pure white of the royal palace. Junhyo gave San a short nod as he felt his eyes on him, San giving it back.

“Aww, Wooyoung!”, Seonghwa called as his brother approached with San at his hand. “You got such a pretty flower!”

“Thank you!”, Wooyoung grinned before handing it to Yeosang together with the fan. “San and I will be at the dancefloor for a bit. I’ll come back to pick up the fan later on.”

Yeosang gave him a stern and kind of concerned look, “Please do not forget to retain it right after, my prince. You may need it.”

May need it? San looked to Wooyoung whose smile faltered a bit, nervously staring up to San but waving his servant off. “I’m sure it will be alright. See you!”

The prince led San away again, but San was fast to spin Wooyoung back into his arms after a few steps. “What was that about?”, he asked, lips pressed against Wooyoung’s ear.

Wooyoung blushed, feeling like honey in San’s hold. “Nothing”, he whispered, but San wouldn’t believe that.

“It’s not very prince-like to lie”, San huffed as he looked at Wooyoung through the slits of his mask.

“I am not lying if I simply don’t want to tell you”, he chuckled and pressed San in a hug, making San stop asking. Wooyoung’s body felt so warm against his and so tiny and slim as he wrapped his broad arms around his torso.

They had almost reached the dance floor when a familiar boy with lavender hair crossed their way. San tightened the grip on Wooyoung’s waist.

“Oh, Wooyoung!”, Jongho greeted with a little bow. “Fancy to see you here.”

Wooyoung sighed dramatically, “Why does everyone keep recognising me behind the mask?”

The knight giggled, “Such gracious beauty cannot even be hidden by a mask.”

Jongho’s words got two reactions, Wooyoung blushing furiously and San growling lowly at the boy daring to compliment his lover.

A nervous chuckle came from the knight, before throwing San a look, “I’m not making any advances at the prince, just telling the truth. If I’m honest, I am currently searching for a dance partner.”

Oh no. Not again. San had bad memories of the Snowdrop ball, of Wooyoung changing partners and San ending up with Jongho in his arm. San’s pit of acid that bubbled in jealousy. All the feelings that made his eyes a shade darker. This time things were different though. Wooyoung had voiced his interest in San. He would not let Jongho get in-between again.

“He’s already dancing with me”, San said darkly, pulling Wooyoung to his chest, who let out a surprised squeal.

“San?!”

But San kept tensed up. He would never lose his childhood love to this knight from the north. It must have laid in the region to flirt with the royal family as Hongjoong had been from a town not far from Marigold.

Despite his expectations, Jongho let out a bawling laugh, “What on earth? Jealousy does not suit you, my Lord.” What? … San’s cheeks warmed up. Had Jongho just called him out in front of Wooyoung? He didn’t even know if he should thank or scold the younger boy as Wooyoung looked up to San with twinkling grey and cooed at him adoringly. “As much as I wish to dance with the second prince of Azalea – I know my boundaries. If anything – I only wanted to ask for a certain someone’s location.”

Jongho let his eyes wander behind his simple black mask.

“Is Yeosang here today?”

“Oh, most certainly!”, Wooyoung exclaimed, suddenly very excited about the thought that his servant would dance with the knight. “He is with my brother and his consort at the moment. I am very sorry that I made him hold my flower and fan. But I am sure it will not be a reason for him to decline.” The prince tipped his chin adorably with his index finger. San put both his hands on Wooyoung’s hips, as he looked at him with adoration.

Jongho nodded with a gummy smile, “Thank you, my prince. I will see if I can find him then. I wish you a good dance.” The knight passed them by, both watching him, making Wooyoung turn in San’s hold.

“Aren’t you a bit too forward?”, the prince said with a smug raised eyebrow.

“Forward?”, San asked dumbfounded, following Wooyoung’s eyes that wandered down to San’s hands resting on Wooyoung’s hips – on the yellow fabric of his skirt.

Usually, San would have torn his hands away, would have apologised and blushed and- No, not this time. San caressed his thumb over the fabric, starring intensely into Wooyoung’s eyes. “And who would stop me?” His whisper made a shiver run down the prince’s spine.

Damn… Choi San flirting was something Wooyoung hadn’t been ready for. Oh, how he wished to have his fan with him right now.

“Me! I stop you! Let’s dance!”, Wooyoung squeaked, taking San’s hands off his waist but letting only go of one as he led them closer to the floor with the other. A smug smile rested on San’s face.

Just as they arrived, Wooyoung sighed. “Noooo”, he whined. The moment they arrived the music switched to a fulminant melody – the song was meant to be danced alone. “I can’t believe we have such bad timing.” The pout on his lips was so cute and San did his best to not just lean in and kiss it away.

San laughed, “We need to work on your patience, my prince.”

His gaze darkened, “No. Call me Wooyoung.”

The warrior forbid himself the amused huff as he didn’t want to feel the prince’s elbow in his rips. He knew Wooyoung too well as to tease him like that.

“If that is not a charming encounter.”

San was the first to turn his head. A man in a black suit came their way. Golden elements laid all over the fabric of his chest. A glass of red wine in his hand. The liquid swayed in the elegant and flowy steps he made towards them.

“Ah”, Wooyoung gaped as he looked at the aristocrat approaching.

A deep bow followed by the stranger and San gritted his teeth. Oh, how he hated etiquette and royal events and all the crap that stood between him and his love for Wooyoung. Thinking they could really spend time just the two of them here was a fantasy San liked to daydream about while bathing in the sun on a walk through the garden. It was far from reality though as San needed to understand that Wooyoung was a person of public interest and therefore, someone people wanted to talk to. And be it just to leave a good impression. Everything for a reputation. San could wretch.

“My prince. What a pleasure to meet you again. I believe we have not seen each other in a while.”

San watched Wooyoung intently, figuring out if the prince knew him. The expression on his face was weird though and San wasn’t sure what to read into it.

The prince put up a smile, “Time flies by indeed. How’s the South?”

That perked up San’s interest. The South? Someone from the south was here. It made sense as this was a public ball for the higher class in the capital of Azalea. The kingdom had no enemies except the country beyond the north – yet. San clearly remembered all the talks and gossip about quarrels and disturbance in the south.

“My country is living in bliss. We cannot complain. Although I wish for someone at my side, as I am…”, the man put the glass to his lips, “Quite lonely.”

San’s arm around Wooyoung tightened, when Wooyoung reached for San’s hand there to hold him back and hinder him from acting.

Whatever he wanted, San didn’t want to hear it, San wanted him gone.

“That is…”, Wooyoung started, a bit uncomfortable with the situation too, but the fierce grip on San’s fingers told him enough. ‘Don’t interfere’. San was aware that picking a fight with someone from the south when there was peace at stake was not an option. And yet, San hated the look he gave Wooyoung lasciviously from bottom to the top. “Woefully”, Wooyoung pressed out as he gritted the word through his teeth as he tried to emphasise his point towards San.

“Indeed, indeed. Therefore, where are my manners? I should ask you for a dance. If I am not mistaken it would be your first this evening?”

“Ahh”, Wooyoung replied, a bit taken by surprise. “The offer is gracious, my Lord. But I am indeed not-“

Something in the stranger’s expression shifted, eyes turning cold behind the dark mask. “Is it not of high respect to give a foreigner the first dance? Especially the youngest prince who is indeed unclaimed could make do with such act, no?” His voice had suddenly raised, people turning their head their way at the loud conversation.

UNCLAIMED!? The anger vibrated in San’s body. He wanted him gone. He stepped forward, “I think the prince knows-“

“Knows how to talk for himself”, the southern lord countered and gave San a patronising look, “Now…” His eyes wandered back to Wooyoung, offering his hand. “Shall we?”

The lord pressed his wine glass against San’s chest but put a bit too much force into the movement, some of the red spilling on San’s pale green shirt – soaking through it like blood. A golden ring with a winged woman and snakes circling the motive glimmered in the shades of the chandeliers.

“Oh, my apologies”, he mocked San, taking Wooyoung’s hand. Just seeing Wooyoung’s hand taken by someone else made everything in him halt. “Now please hold onto my drink for a second.” The lord already manoeuvred Wooyoung out of San’s hold to the dance floor when he leaned just a bit closer, towering above San a full head and whispering lowly, “Like the servant you are.”

What had just happened? San watched the lord go with Wooyoung, the music switching to a couple song and shattering all of San’s dreams to be his first dance tonight at the guy pressed Wooyoung close to his body, posture ready and starting to lead, not even asking if Wooyoung didn’t want to lead – as he usually liked. San didn’t know what he suddenly felt. This… this utter rage?

A shattering sound made its way to the ground, some women and men around shrieked and looked San’s way, whose hand was dripping with the dark red liquid. His breaths went in pants, shocked at his heavy body reaction and still, all his mind came up with was an irrational hate. Who was he to treat San like that? Why hadn’t San defended himself?

A movement in the periphery of his vision made San come back to his consciousness. Junhyo had watched the scene from a far, hand on his sword hilt and ready to interfere if there was just the slightest danger for Wooyoung coming from the guy. But as much as San despised the situation – they were just dancing.

He shook his head strongly, so the head guard of the royal palace would see. Junhyo retreated in his patrolling-pose again, eyes wandering to Wooyoung more often than usual.

“My Lord, do you inquire help? A physician?”, a young girl came to San, but San just pulled his arm away, making the girl jump. San looked at her indefinitely. He had never in his life reacted with such rude behaviour. Shocked about himself, San just lowered his head.

“I am very fine. Thank you for your concern”, he simply stated before wandering a bit to the side, where people would follow him with their sharp eyes. He sat down on one of those golden cushioned chairs, eyes trained on the dancing pair.

Do a single mistake, San growled in his head, I warn you.

Wooyoung didn’t like his hands. They were bigger than San’s, rougher.

Wooyoung didn’t like his face. He couldn’t see much of it, but he for sure looked familiar. However, Wooyoung was used to greeting about half of the guests at every ball. People looking familiar was the natural state for Wooyoung at events of the high society. His lips were thin and pale, and his teeth looked chapped. A beard grew on the sides of his chin and Wooyoung didn’t like the hungry eyes watching him from so far above. He had never realised how much he liked the little height difference between San and him. He loved that they could see each other’s eyes without craning their necks.

Wooyoung didn’t like his voice, as he kept and kept talking and the sweat kept and kept falling from Wooyoung.

He didn’t like him at all.

“But enough from my family’s arrangement, is Azalea faring well? The king and queen? The crown prince? Everyone… in perfect condition?”

A weird feeling sparked in Wooyoung’s chest as he made his steps a bit smaller, getting a bit more distance between them. “Everyone is just fine. There are no health issues and there will never be as our physician is quite competent.”

“I suppose so”, he breathed with a grunt, pulling Wooyoung closer again. “If I am not too straightforward – how are the matters of heart going? Is there anyone of particular interest, my prince?”

All those jabs and changes, turns and repetitions – Wooyoung had struggles following the lead of the conversation. His mind tried to figure out how the pieces fit together but couldn’t get an answer as it all seemed so random to him.

“There’s no one”, Wooyoung lied blankly. Revealing any interest in someone without a proper official statement was dangerous. Wooyoung knew that, and that guy should have known too. Was he just trying to bait him out of his hidden state? There was no reason for Wooyoung to open up with this stranger – in contrast, Wooyoung was counting the steps they took until this song would be over and he could excuse himself and go back to San.

Whenever they took a twirl, Wooyoung tried to look for San, gaze so pitiful as he felt bad seeing San with such a deep frown sitting at the side, his posture less than ungraceful. He knew him too well to not understand – San was mad. Wooyoung averted his eyes. He hoped not at him, that he understood that Wooyoung did it for the etiquette and not of his free will. There was no way Wooyoung would rather dance with the southern lord than with San!?

Please know…

“What shame. A prince like you deserves someone.”

Urgh… Wooyoung wanted to go. He begged the musicians to play faster. Wooyoung didn’t want to look into his face again, however – he felt a finger on his chin, light but still. Wooyoung snapped his head back, challenging the southern lord with a heated stare.

“Don’t touch me”, he said roughly without filter and just hoped that the guy would finally get it.

A hiss sounded from the lord as he pulled his fingers away, continued to dance in the rhythm, “As lively as ever. You haven’t changed a bit, have you? Still declining the advances of mine.”

The words shook Wooyoung. What? What advances?

The eyes of the lord wandered down to Wooyoung’s neck where they stayed for a bit, “My fan would have suited your dress like no other. Especially more than that distasteful white one. You should have accepted it.”

Wooyoung froze, steps slowing down until he was nothing but a puppet in the man’s hold, getting dragged from one side to the other. His eyes were lost in the air, far gone as his mind played memory after memory. He knew that he seemed familiar. God damnit.

Suddenly a hand caressed over Wooyoung’s collarbones, fingers reaching just a bit to his neck. “A necklace would suit you well, don’t you think so, my prince? Would be a nice addition.”

Wooyoung gasped for air like he’d drown in the lakes of the forest behind their gardens.

What… His eyes were shaking.

“Oh, the song is at its end”, the lord said, continued to move his mouth, but all sounds were beaten by the rushing of Wooyoung’s heart, the pulse of his blood pumping through his veins. The air around him grew hotter and hotter. He could feel the sweat build and trickle down his skin, cooling immediately and making his body feel more and more clamped between heavy walls.

Wooyoung didn’t realise that the song ended, that the southern lord tipped another person’s shoulder and switched partners, didn’t notice that a new song started, that the new guy in front of him asked Wooyoung for a dance but further for his well-being as Wooyoung kept and kept fighting for air. His world was turning black before his vision blurred in a haze.

Shit.

“You have already been substituted?”, Yunho said as he stepped up to San. The warrior was lounging in his seat, his manners forgotten, crunching his teeth at the pair dancing. Wooyoung’s yellow dress twirling in another spin.

“Do I look like it was deliberate? … This should have been me.”

The folded eyes of his advisor made his eyebrow twitch.

“Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t want this.”

San had been so happy this morning. All night his thoughts had been with the ball and with Wooyoung who would surely look stunning – and he did. And now that it was finally the time – San had lost Wooyoung’s first dance to- to-

“Who is he even?”, Yunho coaxed out with a mocking expression.

“I’d like to know that too”, San grunted, pulling his jacket a bit to the side, “We can send the cleaning bill right to his address then.”

The red wine had left a nasty stain and Yunho didn’t seem too amused with the sight.

San grunted, “I dislike nobility.”

A huff left Yunho’s mouth, “You are of nobility. Wooyoung as well…”

The warrior scratched his head before sending Yunho a flick with his hand, “Don’t you have any real advice as my advisor?”

Yunho arched a brow, “How should I give my advice here? Did Wooyoung willingly agree to the dance?”

Willingly? San wouldn’t say so. Wooyoung had realised too but had stayed polite to avoid any scandals. That man had definitely raised his voice towards Wooyoung to intimidate him. As a threat. San pushed his teeth together.

“People really think they can push Wooyoung around like they want just because he’s not oozing with authority like his brother and parents. Wooyoung is smart – they all underestimate him.”

If it was San, he would have given that guy a good push in the other direction. Who was he to think he could speak like that to the second prince? What made Wooyoung comply to his weird words? Maybe it was better that San hadn’t landed a good punch in his face anyways – would have surely ended the night a bit earlier than planned. However, the outcome was quite torturous as San now was bound to this chair and forced to watch his lover dance with a guy about ten years older than Wooyoung just for politics’ sake. Oh, how his heart and mind screamed at him to end it, whenever the lord decided that they hadn’t already been close enough – pulling Wooyoung against his chest.

San wanted to throw up.

“I am going to end this”, San started as he dusted off his pants with a determined look to his advisor. “What excuse do you recommend me?”

“You’re unbelievable, my Lord”, Yunho mused but only shrugged as the music ended and switched to a new one, “Well first and foremost, they have just switched partners, so I think a strategy is not really needed here anymore. Secondly, I believe your- oh my god.”

As Yunho’s words froze as well as his eyes, he looked to what had him petrified in place, heart skipping a beat when he saw Wooyoung hanging limply in a stranger’s arms.

San did not even realise how his feet slowly started to move. At first it was only a walk, a limb walk towards the scene. The noble man who had caught the prince looked frantic; left and right. Looking for help. Torn if he should shout for help – or not put too much attention to the scene. However, the decision was taken off his shoulders when San started to sprint. His slow steps turned into a thunder, making the dancing pairs stop and stare. He pushed waiters with trays out of the way, the sound of shattering glass getting everyone’s attention.

“Wooyoung!”, San breathed as he arrived, taking the prince out of the man’s arms.

“I did nothing, I swear! He broke down the moment he was passed on! I did not even touch-“

“Shush!”, San advised harshly as he lowered to his knees, carefully guiding Wooyoung’s body to the floor. He laid him over his knees, holding him tightly. San flinched as he realised that Wooyoung was still conscious. He had expected to find the boy sleeping peacefully in his arms. But he was met with quite the contrary as Wooyoung’s eyes were widened in fright, hands clawing at his throat as he gasped for air like a fish being drawn to land and left to die.

“S-san”, he rasped, voice hoarse and full of panicked yaps.

San’s heart sped up, accelerating to the speed of a horse’s gallop as his whole body ran seething hot. “What in lord’s name did he do!? Somebody get that man here again!”, he seethed and the people starting to surround them. He couldn’t see the noble lord around anymore though. Fucking coward. “Shhh, Wooyoung”, San tried to calm Wooyoung’s panicked wheezes. The prince’s eyes started to glimmer, as his attempts of breaths collapsed and foundered all over again.

“I can’t breathe.” Not even a tone came out of his throat anymore – just a whisper taken away by the last bits of music sounding before San heard the voice of the crown prince thunder through the hall.

“Continue playing! Continue now!!”, his arms were lifted in aggressive gestures as he and Yeosang were already on the dance floor, just about to arrive at San’s side.

San didn’t pay it any attention though as Wooyoung started to cough, gripping the front of San’s shirt as his eyes started to spill tears. He couldn’t breathe.

“Help.”

San’s body froze up and before Yeosang and Seonghwa could even arrive to tell San what to do or what was happening – he lifted Wooyoung into his arms. The dress swayed in the moves of his steps as he jogged out of the hall with him in a princess carry.

The people all had shock written on their faces as they made way for him.

San made sure to have him safely in his arms – since Wooyoung was fighting with the air he had no mind to also support his body, head pressing against San’s chest, harder and harder as if the safety of San’s body could make the panic subside just a bit. San surely hoped it would.

“San!”, Yeosang shouted as he and Seonghwa had turned on their heels to follow the warrior, “What happened!? Is Wooyoung alright? Bring him to the balcony!”

“That was my damn plan!”, San seethed through his gritted teeth as the prince’s gasps got harsher, sobs now wrecking his body in addition. “Shhh, Wooyoung. Please just hold on for a second.”

As they arrived outside, the cold air hit San. Although April had already greeted the earth with its warm temperatures and blooming sprouts, the nights were still occupied by frost and chilly winds.

San lowered to the ground. For a second, he thought about leaning Wooyoung against the marble balustrade so he could see him better, but everything in his body revolted against leaving Wooyoung alone, taking away his only safety and lifeline. However, he couldn’t take risks.

He placed him in a sitting position, kneeling right in front and didn’t waste a second to pull Wooyoung’s mask off. Wooyoung immediately grasped for San’s shirt again as if thinking San would leave him alone in such state.

“Help me”, Wooyoung cried out again, eyes seeming heavier than before.

San took his tensed fist in his, trying to soothe out the panic with his thumb caressing his knuckles. Carefully, he laid the other hand onto his cheeks, then his chin, scoping it up.

“Wooyoung. Can you hear me? Please listen to me, darling. You need to breathe. With me, alright? Look at me, please.”

Could he though? Wooyoung’s eyes were a haze. His mind felt like drowning, his breaths louder than San’s words. Cold hands touched his heated face. So cold. He grasped them with his own, trying to get a sense of reality.

“Breathe with me.”

They all made it sounds so easy. Wooyoung looked at San with a scared look. Frightened. Suddenly, San grabbed one of Wooyoung’s hands, pressing the palm to his chest.

“Feel my rhythm. Breathe in with me, love.”

San’s chest was slowly rising. So, so slowly. Wooyoung had troubles staying with him – his fingers shook against San’s uniform. His throat felt oddly restricted, as if someone was still pressing down on it.

The birds flapped their wings as chains chattered at the side. A scream. A table falling to the ground. And suddenly Wooyoung felt like the world turned black, gasping – air filling his lungs like searing fire.

“Wooyoung, you’re safe. You are here, with me, you are safe, love.”

His chest unclenched, breaths fast but finally coming through.

“Sannie?”, Wooyoung rasped with a voice laced with tears. He had not even realised when he had started crying, but San just gave him a worried yet so relieved expression – pushing the tears from his cheeks. Slowly, the tense grip Wooyoung had on San’s clothes slipped off – feeling so weak all of a sudden. The warrior watched the hand fall, catching it so it would not hit the cold ground so harshly, laying it down with more care. Wooyoung laid his head back, hitting the balustrade but ignored it. “I’m sorry. I thought… you’d leave.”

For a second, San looked at Wooyoung with such a bewildered stare and then just scoping him into his arms the next second. The prince felt overwhelmed with the sudden embrace. “San?-“

“I promised you that I’d never leave you. That I won’t ever go anywhere. Please believe me.”

His voice was so pleading, breaking down at the end. Wooyoung looked at the circle of people standing around the pair seated at the floor. His brother looked paler than chalk, his hand holding Hongjoong’s in a death grip, folding as soon as he saw his brother look at him. Yeosang was closer, a nervous look on his face, Jongho was right behind him, a hand on his shoulder. Headguard Junhyo stood at the glass door to the hall, making sure nobody was coming here and covering most of the scene from noisy aristocratic eyes. Yunho doing the same but inside.

“Did he do something to you?”, San asked as he ended the hug. His eyes were so cold, his face laying in deep shadows, and it gave the prince a heavy shiver. Wooyoung swallowed down a lump. Ears still ringing with the indication the lord had done.

It couldn’t be… him? It couldn’t possibly be…

“I- I… “, Wooyoung stuttered, coughing a bit as he still felt a lingering pressure on his throat.

San frowned, hovering closer to him, “I will kill that bastard.”

“I’m fine”, Wooyoung rasped, but it sounded so hoarse that Wooyoung couldn’t believe himself. San placed a hand on Wooyoung’s head and stood up.

“I’ll go get water. The others will stay with you for a second.”

Wooyoung nodded weakly, reaching for his mask but couldn’t quite grasp it. A pale hand took it for him, giving it to him. Yeosang. Wooyoung tiredly inspected the mask, dusting it off a bit while he tried not to recall the panic attack still looming around his mind.

Quiet steps approached, Wooyoung didn’t need to look – those sounds of shoes were so particular, he would notice the shoes of his brother in a room full of people. Always.

“Woo?”

Wooyoung looked away, pulling his knees up to hide himself from the others. He usually was one for attention, but right now he wished not to be the middle.

“I am fine. I don’t want to talk about it. No, the southern lord did nothing to me. I am perfectly alright again.”

The young prince did everyone the favour and answered all questions at once, so that they would hopefully get the message and scram.

Yeosang looked quite concerned, as did Seonghwa. Both boys exchanged a look. Yeosang silently handed Wooyoung his rose and fan back. Wooyoung took them, muttering a beaten ‘thank you’.

“You should learn to notice the signals of your body, Wooyoung”, Yeosang said but left it be as he saw that Wooyoung was getting angry. “If you need a break or fresh air, allow yourself to take it.”

With that the servant stood back up, stepping back into Jongho’s embrace.

“Are you really alright, Woo?”, Seonghwa asked again, kneeling down, not brave enough to touch Wooyoung and possibly trigger him again. Wooyoung sighed, it was probably for the best.

He nodded and turned away. He really would love to have some quiet minutes to think about what happened.

His brother was worried, Wooyoung knew, however, he just needed a bit time to process.

“I have the water.”

Wooyoung could not even look up fast enough when San kneeled down next to him, a hand on his pulled-up knees the other pressing the glass to his lips.

Wasn’t it funny how everyone was scared to trigger Wooyoung again and then there was San who knew that he was the anchor in Wooyoung’s life and the reason he had snapped out of it eventually?

The liquid was like a healing spell to his throat, and it made Wooyoung hum contentedly. San’s sharp eyes never left Wooyoung, watching him gulp down the whole glass and waiting for anything else he needed. However, San was everything Wooyoung needed right now.

He fell into San’s arms the second he was done, wrapping his arms around San’s neck. The warrior was a bit surprised but didn’t waste a second to place the water to the side and hug him back.

“You’re alright?”, San whispered, before pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Yeah”, Wooyoung cringed, “I am sorry.”

Wooyoung looked at the fan in his hands, hovering right before his face.

“My fan would have suited your dress like no other. Especially more than that distasteful white one. You should have accepted it.”

“A necklace would suit you well, don’t you think so, my prince? Would be a nice addition.”

Wooyoung shut his eyes and took a deep breath.

It can’t be him, Wooyoung. You are seeing ghosts.

“Let’s give them some space?”, someone – Jongho – threw into the round and Wooyoung mouthed him a little ‘thank you’. The young knight gave Wooyoung a quick nod, taking Yeosang by his hand and ushering Seonghwa back into the ballroom.

“But Wooyoung-“, Seonghwa started.

Wooyoung looked at his brother over San’s shoulder, “San is with me, Seonghwa.” He smiled, “I am safe.”

It was obvious that the brother didn’t want to leave, however, he was the last person to deny his baby brother a wish. And if his wish was to be alone with San now – so, be it granted.

The sounds of the ball, the laughter of the people and the thrumming music guffawed through the night, before it all extinguished with the door closing – only muffled melodies reaching their ears.

Wooyoung felt San’s warm breath on his neck and pressed him a bit closer.

After a while, San leaned back, pushing some stray strands out of Wooyoung’s face, before cupping his face with both his hands. His fingers caressed the soaked skin.

He didn’t dare to speak up, only whispering, “Better?”

Wooyoung nodded enthusiastically. Finally, the pressure on his chest had disappeared, leaving his throat open to breathe.

“I must have worried you”, Wooyoung chuckled humourless, making San lean in and press a kiss to his cheek.

“Worry?”

Wooyoung swallowed.

“I thought my world was falling apart. I know you are trying to keep things calm, but if that guy did anything to you, I will-“, San curled his fingers into a fist, but was swiftly calmed by Wooyoung’s soft one.

“San”, he said with emphasis, “You would be the first one I’d go to if that was the case. However, he has done nothing we can accuse him for. He had no shame and manners, but I am afraid that’s nothing we can get him for. He danced with me according to the etiquette-“

“An unmarried prince is not to be danced with so closely”, San seethed, nostrils flaring as he probably thought back to the situation.

“Uncomfortable, yes. But still, according to the way it is taught.”

San growled a bit, and it made Wooyoung giggle.

“I didn’t know you could make sounds like that.”

San huffed as he bit his tongue.

“He… I guess he triggered it after all though”, Wooyoung admitted, rubbing his collarbones. “It was by accident, he couldn’t know. Nobody outside the royal family should know.”

San crooked an eyebrow, “Know what?”

Wooyoung stilled. Uhm… He cleared his throat and carefully built a sentence, “I am prone to… faint in extreme heat. It’s why…”, Wooyoung looked to his hands, pulling the fan between their faces, “It’s why I have the fan with me all the time.”

San backed away at the sudden motion. For a second, there was the expression of disbelief plastered on his face before it crumbled down.

“Is that why Yeosang asked you to keep it?”

“Yeah.”

It was no lie in particular. Wooyoung was weak to the heat. Whatever had happened in his late teens had put a weight on his immune system. The last time he had been under the direct summer sun for more than an hour was years ago. However, the thing that had Wooyoung short of breath was something else.

He heard the happy chatter of people, the clanking of shoes and suddenly… his air was cut short as sharp pain protruded his neck.

Wooyoung shook the dark memories from his head. They were nothing more but flickers of nightmares anyways.

San took Wooyoung’s hand in his, “Next time, tell me something important like that beforehand, you hear me?” The warrior looked concerned, eyes tracing all over Wooyoung’s face and body now that he had the new information.

Wooyoung chuckled, ripping his hands out of San’s, “I am not ill, San.”

“And yet I feel like I don’t only have to fight the world to protect you but now the sun too.”

The prince rolled his eyes, standing up shakingly with San’s help, “You are so dramatic.”

Wooyoung let himself be led towards the wall of glass that would lead them back to the ballroom. Just before they entered again, Wooyoung turned to San and San turned to Wooyoung.

“I am not dramatic”, San grunted as he put the mask back on Wooyoung’s face, “I love you.”

A firework exploded in Wooyoung’s chest, trying not to smile too hard at the confession.

“And so do I.”

Before Wooyoung knew it, he laid in his arms of his lover, eyes closed as he met San’s lips halfway. The prince tried to reciprocate the hungry kiss as much as he could. San moved his lips fast though, nearly desperate, and Wooyoung felt dizzy at the speed, stumbling back a step and another as San pushed his body against Wooyoung’s-

Bam!

The loud sound made the pair jump away, their eyes widened in fright. Frozen in time, all the sounds had disappeared. Their heads turned to the ballroom, looking through the windowpane only to be met with dozens- no, hundreds of eyes.

Wooyoung felt like he had been thrown into a cold bath while San’s hands on his body burnt him alive. Suddenly so aware of the position they were in. About what those guests must have just witnessed.

Some ladies were hiding their gaping red lips with fans while the gentlemen whispered in shock to each other. Seonghwa and Hongjoong looked like their eyes were about to pop out, while Yeosang pressed his palm against his forehead in distress.

They were doomed.

Chapter Text

Royalty was of public interest. It was representation to the outer world. Times had shifted and the royal family wasn’t as interesting as back then anymore. There was a rise of townspeople, diligent workers and knights. Wooyoung’s family had never feared to be overthrown; the people had always loved the current king and queen after that failure of tyrant that Wooyoung’s grandpa – late grandpa – was.

So, he didn’t really understand. Why was this an issue now? Why was their reputation still such a holy, untouchable thing? Wooyoung was just a boy living his live. Never interfered in the politics if he didn’t have to. He knew that Seonghwa didn’t want him to be a king. Not because he thought Wooyoung would not do well, but because being a king would predestine his life and Seonghwa always wanted him to be free. Free of choice.

Said brother earned the darkest of stares from Wooyoung as he gritted his teeth. San stayed quiet the whole time, just standing next to Wooyoung. Occasionally he reached for Wooyoung’s hand, but he didn’t want the comfort now.

“Wooyoung, please watch your health. You collapsed yesterday. Please calm down.”

“I don’t fucking care!!” His head was pulsing red, as he met his parents eye-to-eye.

It had been quite a time since Wooyoung had talked with them in such hierarchical manner. They sat on their thrones, crowns on top while they talked to Wooyoung and San standing in the hall. It felt like back then when San arrived in February. When his life was a fairytale untouched by drama. Of course, it had not always been and just the last night was a reminder that he had been branded by bad experiences often enough in his young life.

“What happened about the part that you want me to be happy?!”, he screeched, pushing San away again as he tried to calm him, “What happened about the promise to do whatever makes me happy, regardless the stakes? You want my well-being and now you force me into this?”

“We are thinking about your wellbeing, Wooyoung”, the king replied, “Nonetheless, your kiss has been seen by multiple aristocrats, servants and musicians. People talk. They talk fast. We want you to be happy and you know that we have arranged a marriage with San from the start, so we clearly have nothing against it. That hasn’t changed.”

The queen nervously flatted out her dress, “Sweetie, please. You need to understand that it would not stain our reputation necessarily, but yours.”

“I don’t care!”

“Maybe you don’t do now”, Seonghwa interrupted from the side, walking over to his brother, “However, standing in the spotlight for whatever reasons can cause… problems.” He wore a white uniform, a little crown on his head.

Wooyoung challenged his serious gaze bravely but huffed and turned his head with a hiss.

“I am free to choose my partner.”

“You are”, Seonghwa immediately agreed, but stopped as Wooyoung snapped back into his face with folded arms.

“As well as the time!”

It was an issue Wooyoung had never wasted too many thoughts about. He was well aware that his marriage was long overdue. He knew his parents had left him the freedom to find a partner for longer than necessary. Of course, it was a foul move to arrange a marriage over his head in secrecy – even though they wanted just the best - choosing a noble friend rather than an idiot in aristocrat disguise.

Wooyoung was ready to throw it all against their forehead. How unfair it was that they asked them to decide now.

“What happened with those five months? What happened to the deadline of the summer ball in July?!”

The queen quieted her son as she rose a hand. “We gave San five months to stay to overthink his decision of declining your arranged marriage. Getting informed about a kiss in a public space is a decision. And I know my son and his best friend long enough to know that you don’t do such decisions light-heartedly.”

Wooyoung’s heart felt like it withered like the flowers in late September. He felt like the wholesome spring was over and that his heart was captured in a dying summer.

“Just give me a bit more time. Give us-“

“Park Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung flinched at the loud voice of his mother, before he sighed, fighting the tears.

“When San arrived back then, you willingly took the offer of the marriage. San declined. If your feelings for San had changed by now and you don’t wish to marry him anymore then we accept this. However, we cannot let a man stay who had kissed an unmarried prince. If you need time, you can have it. But San needs to leave.”

His heart had beaten so fast all this time. Since Yeosang had gotten him from his chamber with the message that his family wanted to speak with him, he had felt that it was bad news. Of course they were! Yeosang and the others had lectured him already enough on the way back. But it felt like that one time he had broken one of his mothers’ favourite sculptures. Like a mistake but something people would laugh about after some days.

However, when Wooyoung had entered the hall of marble, met with the cold yet concerned stares of his family, nobody was laughing. Wooyoung had greeted them with an awkward smile and that was the last time his lips had pulled upwards.

The mentioning of San having to leave pushed all air from Wooyoung’s lungs. “You can’t mean that!”, Wooyoung whisper-yelled, eyes shaking, “You can’t separate us again! You can’t take San from me again!?”

Seonghwa touched Wooyoung’s shoulder, “Nobody is trying to tear the two of you apart. We want-“

“Don’t touch me!”, Wooyoung screeched as he drew back his arm, stepping to the side, tumbling into San’s chest, who supported Wooyoung before he’d fall to the ground. Wooyoung was lethal, breaths coming out in angry pants. No. He wouldn’t let them take San again. Not again. Not again.

“Woo…”, Seonghwa whispered in a sad tone, eyes pleading but Wooyoung didn’t look at him anymore.

He challenged his parents with a last stare. “So?”

His mother looked conflicted, so his father took the heart to speak. “I have a meeting with the capital’s council the day after tomorrow. It’s held in a semi-public place. People will be asking. Tell us by the nightfall of tomorrow. If you decide to wait with your final decision – no matter if you choose each other or not – San will have to leave for his hometown by the time I am attending the meeting. I am sorry, Wooyoung.”

The prince backed away, shaking San’s hands from him. No. No he was not sorry. None of them were. Maybe they were tired of Wooyoung making no decisions. Maybe they had found someone more suitable for Wooyoung and needed San gone as fast as possible. And Wooyoung knew that his thoughts were nonsense and that his family had never given him anything less than the highest form of love. Yet, he couldn’t stop everything from spiralling.

It all felt so heavy. Felt like back then when San had declined him, his whole world crumbling. He didn’t hear them call him, didn’t care for their worried stares as they were nothing but lying grimaces for him. Things were so much easier than this. At least Wooyoung imagined them so much easier.

Being a prince was truly…

A curse.

With both hands he pushed open the door, making the guards at the side flinch and draw their weapons to find Wooyoung as the culprit. The prince stepped out with rushed yet strong steps. Gaze lit a dark fire, so in contrast with the stream of tears plastering his cheeks.

He didn’t know when he started to run, didn’t know where to and just hoped that for once in his life nobody was following.

A sting in his left leg made his knee buckle slightly before he regained his form again. He hissed at his own weak body, that tired out way too fast to his liking. Maybe San could help him regain some strength.

San…

Wooyoung reached the wide pond in the garden, water glittering in a soft pale blue as the sky was empty of clouds. Blue tits picked at some corns in the dirt and flew away with high chirps when Wooyoung approached the water bank. He sat down, looked at his face for a second before he ripped it to shreds, pushing his hands into the water. The ripples made the lines of his tears disappear. He washed his face a few times until he didn’t feel the clammy feeling and the burning behind his eyes.

“I won’t be married off to a stranger, Sangie”, the prince voiced in determination, turning. “I know that it would benefit our situation but… isn’t Seonghwa enough already?”

The prince’s servant sighed deeply, “Your brother has been also in your place, Wooyoung. It’s not a simple task to escape your fate.”

A sarcastic grunt left Wooyoung as he opened his fan in a rush again, “Oh, please. Seonghwa married the man of his dreams.”

“What tells you that it might not be the same for you, my prince?”

With a heavy sigh, Wooyoung untied the laces of his high boots before rolling up the legs of his black trousers and greeted the lukewarm water with his toes.

He watched the water sparkle, the dragonflies landing on the lily pads and some fish leaving the water occasionally for a joyful jump at the surface.

“What tells you that it might not be the same for you, my prince?”

Wooyoung crunched with his teeth. After all those months Yeosang had been right. Wooyoung never knew what to do with that magnitude of feelings he harboured for San, and he guessed that he needed the time to grow up and then time with San to understand that it was more than a simple friendship all along.

And San felt the same?

Wooyoung thought so. Everything he did and said pointed to it, but Wooyoung just wanted to know for sure and he wanted that San knew for sure too.

The prince hadn’t heard the steps - ripped out of his thoughts by the shadow suddenly casting over him. Before he could shout at whoever to just scram and leave him alone, San had casted his shoes to the side, pulling his trousers up and put his feet into the water with a loud, bombastic splash.

He didn’t look at Woo, didn’t say a thing, just letting his feet sway in the water’s moods.

Hmm…

Wooyoung couldn’t hide a little smile. His stomach was full of butterflies and cute little bees, and they made his body vibrate a bit.

Wooyoung should have known better than to fight through this problem alone.

The couple sat there for some hours without exchanging a word, but none was needed anyways.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

“Darling, please talk to me.”

“It is about 6 a.m. in the morning, San. I don’t know what there is to talk about.” Wooyoung had his face pressed against his knees, curled up in himself and leaned against the wall of the carriage.

A huff, “It is 8 a.m.”

Wooyoung repressed the urge to show Yeosang his tongue like a child and just further tried to get some sleep. They might… haven’t talked about it yet. After the crashing news yesterday he and San had spent the day in mostly silence. A comforting silence but nevertheless – silence.

They had spoken a bit at dinner, but mostly because they were angry with the others. And as long as they talked with each other, there was no reason to engage with the Park family. Wooyoung probably told San three times how marvellous the weather was that day.

At least San wasn’t too eager to talk to the others too.

Yeosang had called for Wooyoung to talk through their schedule the next days and knowing his servant and best friend, he had kept him awake a bit too long, distracting him from the grande decision that laid on his shoulders.

It had been a while Wooyoung had felt so light, just laughing until the late night.

However, that also meant, that Wooyoung and San had not a single conversation alone yet – making the threat of the decision hover dangerously over their heads.

They needed to know until tonight.

“Wooyoung, it is from utter importance that we talk.”

Wooyoung was about to protest, when Yeosang chimed in gruffly, “Please keep your bickering to somewhere where I can’t witness it. I don’t wanna fell like a third wheel.”

“Why third wheel?”, Wooyoung asked, slightly looking up from his cover of his knees.

His servant rolled his eyes, “It’s not the first time such talks would end up in make-up sex.”

The prince sputtered, “Y-yeosang!? We aren’t married?” The colour of his cheeks ten folded at the inappropriate comment. Hell, San was sitting in the same carriage!?

The warrior wasn’t doing any better, looking out of the window, hand resting on his cheek and successfully hiding his own blush.

The blonde boy, shoved Wooyoung a bit, making him come out of his shell.

“You two also kissed, I have lost all hopes.”

Now the blush started to crawl underneath his skin. Could everyone please stop talking about their kiss!? It was a private affair. Or well, it probably would be, if San and Wooyoung hadn’t made it public by accident.

‘Later’, Wooyoung voiced to San tonelessly when he looked over. They would talk. Yes… today… If Wooyoung at least knew why he was so hesitant… It was as clear as day though – San and him had only just begun to realise their feelings for each other, right? Or had San loved him longer? Ahhh, Wooyoung should really ask instead of walking in the pitch dark.

Wooyoung fixed the rushing in front of his peach-coloured blouse. His fingers caressed over the white trousers. He wore the same outfit he had worn when San had come to the castle. One of San’s favourite outfits on him – that was at least what Wooyoung read into the many hidden glances he got.

San himself was dressed up nicely. A navy blue buttoned up shirt, a coat in the same colour thrown over his shoulders. His grey pants built a bit of a contrast and Wooyoung thought it wouldn’t fit at first glance, but San looked very handsome, his hair very ruffled and styled down today, hiding his forehead.

He was sitting opposite from him, kind of in the middle because he had the seat for himself. Yeosang and Wooyoung shared the other side. Wooyoung let his eyes wander over the brown tile roofs of the capital’s houses. The sun was shining brightly, parts of it falling into the carriage and warming his arms.

A bump appeared, making Wooyoung jump and flail forward when San immediately reached out to stabilise him. They shared a quick glance but then retreated to their seats. Wooyoung looked for his white fan, opening it and hiding his reddening face with it a bit. Gosh… Since they kinda knew that there was something – Wooyoung felt shy calling it love – he was a mess.

San had a dimpled smile on his face, seeing Wooyoung use his fan. The only fan Wooyoung ever used.

A sudden pressure on his head made the young prince squirm, fingers pressing into his temple. What? Where does that come from now? The sides of his head were churning and pushing inwards and Wooyoung let out a little grunt in discomfort, pressed his eyes together and then… it was gone…

Wooyoung breathed a bit heavily, a sigh as he leaned back exhausted at the sudden attack of a headache. He fanned himself some air. Yeosang and San looked his way, concern written on their faces.

“Is everything alright?”, San asked, the dimples gone.

Sad, Wooyoung loved the dimples.

“Perfect”, he said tiredly and laid his head against the carriage wall. No headache anymore, just that lingering feeling that his head wanted to tell him… something.

When they had reached their destination, San left first to offer his hand for Wooyoung to take.

“Such a gentlemen”, Wooyoung bluffed at him, but San only smiled. It was a riddle to him why his parents had allowed San to come along Wooyoung after all the controversy about the kiss. It wasn’t a smart move, but since Seonghwa and Hongjoong left early for a meeting, there was probably none other available and they should not forget that there was still someone out there who wanted their heads.

They were set to visit the Blue Bird, a famous workshop for art and handcraft as it was one of the biggest suppliers for the thousands of portraits and sculptures in Azalea. As much as Wooyoung knew, their art was also quite popular in other countries.

Wooyoung always volunteered for the visits done twice a year. It was something really prestigious when the royal family came for a visit to praise their work. And the people had always greeted Wooyoung with open arms since he was more interested in this field as in war politics like his brother. He still remembered that one time when Wooyoung was too young to go alone and Seonghwa had accompanied him.

He had asked what’s the sense behind art – and had offended probably a quarter of their population. Wooyoung had educated him on that as soon as they were back in their castle walls. However, since then Wooyoung had come alone, and it was visible how much more they liked Wooyoung alone.

The building was rather noble, since art was a noble craftmanship, they had been treated like royalty back in the days. Times had changed but Wooyoung was still sure that they all loved their work as much as back then.

Wooyoung’s cheeks tinted red as San skipped a few steps of stairs to reach the door faster. He opened the door with a kind grin and a little bow.

What is just into him today…?

Or every day…

He was so unbearable polite and perfect and Wooyoung was getting ill from all the butterflies rummaging in his stomach and reordering his organs. What a pain. Wooyoung grinned. Oh, who is he trying to fool.

The prince quickly glanced left and right. The streets here were rather empty due to the timing of the day, so Wooyoung went on his tip toes, planting a feather light kiss on San’s cheek.

“Thank you.”

Wooyoung entered while San was fighting off a tenacious blush. Yeosang snickered at them in pleasure.

Wooyoung always loved visiting. Not only because he liked art, but because entering it was always like entering a new world. Something probably out of their world. His family had never understood what Wooyoung saw when he came here. There were various paintings leaning against the wide hall that opened before him. The ceiling was vitrified, the warm sun shining through as filling the room with a light sky-blue shimmer. Wooyoung stood at the start of the stairs. They laid down into the world of art. Some walls were filled with colours themselves, probably attempts of artists to live their creativity. Started sculptures of marble and bronze were staying around, some of them still hidden in the raw block of marble or only poured halfway. Some heads of stones laid around, destroyed by sheer rage at things not working out the way they wanted it to.

The canvas’ piled up, some hanging on the walls, standing at easels some laying on the floor, pure colour sprawled across the finished drawings.

People where hurrying from one side to the other, some chatting a bit in some corner, most of them working on their pieces.

Wooyoung’s eyes were sparkling. What he saw was not an art workshop.

He slowly descended the stairs, not looking if San nor Yeosang were even following, enchanted by what he saw.

It was a place of improvement and failure. A split between reality and fantasy. The traces left of a progress. He saw win and loss in the finished and failed artworks.

And it was also a place, where Wooyoung felt less like a prince – and sometimes that was really refreshing. They knew that the royal family would visit, yet they didn’t try to appear polished and neat, they just did their work. Nobody was there to greet them, to fake a picture of a truth that wasn’t there.

But Wooyoung liked the truth of what art was. And he appreciated to see the reality of it and not whatever they would fake it to be.

Only when he had leaned over the back of a seated artist working on a canvas, they jolted. First, he looked at Wooyoung with a grim expression, but as soon as he noticed the crown on Wooyoung’s head – Wooyoung chose to wear it, so he’d get recognised more easily – he stood up and bowed.

“My prince”, he said and Wooyoung ushered him to straighten.

“Please don’t be so formal. I am a mere interrupter in your space, a visitor, nothing more.”

He smiled. Wooyoung smiled back, he must have been new. Wooyoung didn’t recognise him. The artist decided to not let go of him that easily though, deciding to show him around a bit with a bright smile. Wooyoung listened adamantly, not even caring where his servant or San had disappeared to.

The works in progress were such fine arts of myths and tales, some of them were even portrayals of aristocracy – most of the artworks were ordered by the crown or some rich families. However, there were also some that came from the artists themselves.

Wooyoung always asked about those works, although the artist always tried to talk it down, but Wooyoung was always interested to see into the creative minds of their kingdom’s sculptures.

It was the prince’s highest pleasure to converse with every single artist, asking about the sources they used and the equipment. It took a bit until Wooyoung was done with his little round, fallen into a conversation with two artists at the side of the room. It was then when San bounced over to the happy prince, leaning against his back and hanging his head over Woo’s shoulder.

“Have you paid your visit well?”, he breathed into Wooyoung’s ear, making the prince pull up his shoulders and scrunch his nose with a smile.

“San, that tickles.”

The warrior huffed amused and put his hands on the prince’s hip. He and Yeosang had been silently following him around the whole time. It was so adorable to watch Wooyoung be so talkative and happy that they didn’t want to interrupt him.

Wooyoung turned in his hold, dark eyes twinkling, “Have you seen the allegory of Persephone? It is so beautiful!!”

San hummed, eyes trying to stay with the prince’s eyes but swiftly fell to his lips every now and then. The mole sitting there looked so kissable. “I see it every day.”

The prince rolled his eyes and gave San a little bump on his shoulder. He was about to bite back when an excited voice boomed through the hall. “You are the lord everyone talks about, aren’t you?” The tone was dripping from excitement.

The young artist standing before them had star shaped eyes, a romantic glimmer in the pale blue. Wooyoung tensed a bit.

“Why should I even take cover here?”, San chuckled but cleared his throat right after, “I wish to deny for the sake of simplicity, but I rather claim Wooyoung as my own than to pretend that he’s someone else’s.” He bowed lightly to the artist, “I am Choi San, son of the noble warrior family of the west of Azalea.”

“One kind of a gentleman”, the middle-aged woman standing next to the younger boy breathed with a little wink towards Wooyoung.

While Wooyoung blushed furiously, San chuckled a bit. He was already used to the extent women liked him, especially as they all saw the perfect son in law in San. Unfortunately, San had to cause many teenage heartbreaks in his youth. His heart had been already taken and belonged to only one.

The warrior pulled Wooyoung in a tight side hug.

“If I am allowed the honour-“, the young boy exclaimed snatching a pencil from the stand behind him, “I would love to be the first who gets to paint the new established royal couple!”

“Couple!? No-“, Wooyoung sputtered as the lady already ushered them to the chair standing so lonely at the side. A canvas next to it. “We are not y-“

The woman gave Wooyoung a censuring look, “I have lived long enough to recognise people in love.” After that Wooyoung had no argument anymore. The prince sat down, San standing right behind him.

San shrugged when Wooyoung looked up to him for help.

“You both look so decent together!”, the young artist praised as he bit his tongue, already measuring sizes with his thumb, sketching something with coal.

Wooyoung sighed, accepting his fate as it was quite fun after all and…

A few butterflies took flight in his stomach when San laid a warm hand on his shoulder. Wooyoung looked up again, meeting the most wonderful smile in the whole kingdom.

Wooyoung smiled. He loved San.

“Ahh, don’t look away please!”

The young prince jumped back with wide eyes, “Sorry!”

Not being able to move much, he let his eyes wander. He checked for any familiar faces, but his search only confirmed him in his claim.

“I am curious”, he still asked though, really wanting to make sure, “I have been paying visits here since years and had quite a good connection to the people around. I am delighted to see new faces; however, I do wonder what happened to the one’s I was familiar with?”

“Ah”, the guy said, mixing some oil paint on his plate. There was already a white blotch on his cheek, “It was the reform.”

The reform?

At first, Wooyoung blinked a bit lost until his brain caught up. Ah. The reform… Seonghwa had passed - he remembered. Something about cutting the artist’s wages…

Now the woman spoke up, “We never raised our voices on that matter, but… there had been a lot of people who persuaded this craft ship only because of the money. Our reputation started to suffer under the hypocrisy of those. Most of them became furious with the new reform since money had been their only drive.”

“Oh…”, Wooyoung let out, eyes dropping to his thighs. He always liked the people though. Always thought like he could feel their love for art. It couldn’t have been all fake, right?

“The people left now”, the boy continued, “We are the ones who want this. Who want to create. Create-“, the boy grabbed the side of the canvas and spun it around, “Create art!!”

Wooyoung’s chin slowly fell as his eyes fell on the painting. The fast yet so precise strokes, delicate details in their faces and a scrubbed blurriness to their bodies. Wooyoung stood up in awe. It was a quick and yet so wonderful work. A portrait from someone who loved what they were doing.

Wooyoung smiled a bit tearily now, before he turned his head to San. He hoped that he had the same thoughts flashing through his head. The same clearance of fog.

They were Wooyoung and San - childhood best friends - portrayed on a canvas, and… soon to be married. And San smiled back.

After they were done gushing about the portrait, Yeosang already loading it back into the carriage. Wooyoung was trying to pay the artist with any money he had on hand, but he kept refusing. Wooyoung made a mental note that he’d send a letter of appreciation and some money with it as a ‘thank you’ another day. Some artists had taken Wooyoung to the side and showed him how to paint trees and the prince happily participated.

When Yeosang wanted to get Wooyoung to leave, since time had passed quite fast, he was dragged into it, soon finding himself with a pencil in his hand. San watched with a half-smirk and folded arms. It seemed that Woo’s happy laughter could even melt the strict servant’s heart.

San walked around a bit on his own and tried to dwell into the pictures a bit more, while the joyful giggles of his lover echoed through the marble hall. He took a stance in front of the Persephone allegory when a door further behind took his attention. San hadn’t seen it before and usually it wasn’t in his manners to just snoop around, but the slightly ajar door was like a call of invitation and San walked over on silent soles.

He threw a last look over his shoulder, smiling dimples at the sight of Wooyoung being full of paint, before he slid his foot between the door and pressed it open. Cold and thick air pushed his way and San suppressed the urge to cough. There was no light source, nor any windows, tinting it all in a pitch black. Paintings piled up. Canvas on canvas. Empty colour pots and pencils littered around.

“Storage”, San breathed.

However, it made him curious why some pictures had been outside and some were hidden here. If they would want to not litter their working hall too much, they would have used this empty space here. The room was nowhere near full yet, so San just wondered…

His eyes slowly accustomed to the dark. Something was different.

He took a canvas and pulled it into the little slit of light that came through the door.

“What on earth…”, he hissed as the sight of the portrait made him jolt. A cold shiver ran down his spine when he was met with the familiar face of his lover. Wooyoung was drawn, sitting on a chair. With him the king, the queen, Seonghwa, even Hongjoong. It was a wonderfully crafted work, loaded with details and skill, if it hadn’t been for the cut jabbed all over the canvas, ripping parts open. Some black paint was smeared all over it. Such… violence…

There was a little sign sitting in the low corner. Some snakes…

“It’s one of theirs.”

San had not heard his presence, nor had he noticed any movement. The dire situation made San draw a blade before asking. Fingers longed for the knife hidden in his boot before it glinted on the throat of the intruder.

In an instant, San was met with hands thrown up in surrender, “No, please!”

It was the young boy from before, with those cold blue eyes, who had painted them. San grunted but didn’t move his weapon yet. It didn’t seem like he had any weapons on him, but the warrior wouldn’t risk it. Experience had taught him better.

“What are those?”, San spat, nodding his head to the piles of ripped painting of the royal family. “Do you have something against the royal family? Are you stalling your trust?” He pushed the blade closer to the boy’s skin, Adam’s apple touching the silver as he gulped heavily.

“W-what? No! I- We would never, we-“, his eyes were big, already looking like he was about to cry, when San decided to take the knife away. “It’s one of their pictures. From those who… who left because of the reform. As told before, they were so mad and angry. Their life got ruined, they said… so they sought revenge with the one’s responsible…”, he pointed behind San’s back to the destroyed portrait taunting them.

Alarm bells rang through his head. All the threats, all those incidents – somehow, it must all add up to this. It had to! But… but how? How would the artists be able to invade the palace and place the poison? How could they know about the royal schedule to know where to strike? Why would they insist on keeping Wooyoung alive when they wanted their revenge so bad? Was it the same people that ran the ceramic shop – or was this a bigger thing?

Crawling goosebumps spread over his arms.

“Has Wooyoung anything to do with that reform?”

The artist frowned, “Prince Wooyoung?” He shook his head, “Not as far as I know. The young prince is known to keep out of politics. It had been his brother who signed and passed it publicly.”

“I see…”

That was all not adding up. San looked back to the painting, saw the way how someone had torn a sharp blade straight through Wooyoung’s painted body. What was he missing?

A shiver made him shake his shoulders uncomfortably, anxiety and panic crawling up his body and constricting his chest and throat.

He took in a sharp breath.

“I think the prince should leave now”, San answered dryly, pushing through the door by the artist.

He found Wooyoung still on the chair surrounded by the creative heads, laughing and painting with his fingertips. So happy, so safe.

But San didn’t feel safe.

“We should go home”, he announced with a slight waver in his voice.

And Wooyoung’s playful smile dropped.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Wooyoung breathed into the damp air of the bathroom.

“My Prince?”

The prince jolted out of his thoughts as he regarded his servant with a kind glance. Yeosang already held the towel open for Wooyoung to leave the bath and wrap himself in the fluff.

“I am sorry, I was thinking.”

Yeosang smiled a bit bitterly, “I can imagine that your head must be in uproar after having told your parents the news.”

Wooyoung chuckled as he cuddled into the warmth of his towel. Yeah… it had been a hard day. They told his parents the moment they were back.

Yeosang helped him change into his warm sleeping gown before braiding Wooyoung’s wet hair into two buns and clipped it on Wooyoung’s head.

“It still doesn’t feel real”, the prince whispered as they both headed to Wooyoung’s chambers.

“That comes with no surprise, as it came rather by surprise.”

“Surprise, you say…”

Wooyoung wondered if really anything had happened ever by surprise. He believed in the gods, in fate and in his own feelings. Had really so much changed for him since back then? Since they had laid eyes on each other for the first time. Since they had learned to ride a horse, to dance and to write. How to fight. Since the days they had been chilling in the warm sun under the shades of trees while San was reciting poetry and Wooyoung was braiding crowns of flowers. Since the day San had reached the goal of his education and was sent back, the day they had carved their initials into the tree.

A sudden tear dropped from his lashes, making the prince reach up, “Oh?” He didn’t know what suddenly came over him. Yeosang regarded him with a concerned look. “I guess my heart has not accepted my thoughts yet”, Wooyoung chuckled with a bit sadness ringing in his tone.

“Are you sad to marry Lord San?”

“Sad?”, Wooyoung asked as Yeosang opened the door to his room, before entering, “Not in the slightest. I am relieved. It feels like something I had yearned for so long. However, the events had just tumbled over each other with every day, and I just think I’m…”

The prince let his words fade out as he saw the folded paper on his bed sheets.

“What is that?”, he said as he stepped up. The paper was warm, as if someone had just held it a few minutes ago. He opened it, smiling at the familiar script.

“Dear Peaches…”, Wooyoung read loud, frowning a bit as the letter ended there. Just as he was about to wonder what had happened to the rest of the sentence, the rustling of paper made him turn. Yeosang inspected another folded letter that must have been inside his closet, where his servant was just storing up some clothes.

Wooyoung jumped over with skips in his steps, taking the paper.

“What is this?”, Yeosang asked but was quickly shushed by Wooyoung.

‘Dear Peaches…

Please follow my words.’

“I…”, Wooyoung murmured, before he looked at Yeosang with quivering lips, cradling the paper to his chest. “I have somewhere to be.”

For a second, Yeosang seemed confused, wanted to protest but then it clicked, and he just left for his own bed with a smile.

Wooyoung’s steps echoed in the lonely hallways as his night shoes dragged him over the tiles of the floor. Three letters were in his hands, ignoring the others laying around. He didn’t need to read them all. He knew…

Wooyoung laughed out loud in a bittersweet tone, tears glistening in his grey eyes.

He knew where he would wait.

“Dear Peaches…”, Wooyoung choked out his words as he stumbled out of the palace’s door towards the side of the garden. The guards in white uniform opened him the doors with upset gazes and asked for his well-being but Wooyoung disregarded them.

The stars shone and twinkled in thousands of constellations above his head, glittering in his unshed tears.

“Please follow my words.”

Wooyoung’s whispers swayed in the night’s warm embrace as he crossed the rose garden in hurried steps.

“Almonds had rained that day”, he chuckled wetly as his feet dragged him further, slowing down as he reached the garden of trees. “And peaches had been still asleep.”

His lips quivered, nose burning up in tears as he held a sob back. The letters fell from his hands, as he grasped for his mouth, littering the ground like the petals had in early spring. Like the day he had first met him. The day they had separated. The day San had been back.

Wooyoung gasped for a breath as the first tear fell as he saw San standing next to their tree, a tight dark suit hugging his shoulders. A ring was twinkling between his fingers.

“You left me waiting, Peaches.”

A wet chuckle escaped the prince’s lips. “Says the one who had kept me waiting for seven years.”

San walked up, cupping Wooyoung’s cheeks as the tears wouldn’t stop.

“And I had promised to be back. And…”, San breathed against Wooyoung’s lips, “I am.”

Wooyoung shuddered, his eyes burning with tears.

“Dear Peaches…”, San started and made Wooyoung just whimper as he pulled him closer. “Please follow my words. Almonds had rained that day, and peaches had been still asleep. Between the branches of white and rose – I have found the person dearest to me. Have found my soulmate and my partner for eternity.”

Wooyoung’s hands were shaking when San took them so gently, so carefully – pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles, before sliding a beautiful ring, rose gold and full of flower ornaments on his delicate finger.

“I want to marry you, Park Wooyoung.”

The prince, kept his lips pressed in a tight line, trying to see San through the blurriness of his vision when he nodded so eagerly, so happily. “Yes.”

San smiled at him, a wet laugh escaping his lips too as the tears had also found to his eyes.

“For that I loved you since our first spring.”

Chapter Text

The light thrum of rain splashed outside like the precursor of some nightmare approaching. The quill scratched on the paper and San leaned back as he thought how to end the letter.

“What are you writing?”

A warm body pressed against his shoulder as Wooyoung leaned over his back. A scent of almonds and oranges found him and made him smile. Home.

“Dear mum… I am happy to announce that despite the wait-“, Wooyoung faltered, coming around and letting himself be guided by San, who pulled him into his lap, pushing his nose into his hair, rubbing it along his neck as he continued reading the letter, “his heart has finally found to mine. I am blessed with mutual feelings and even more with the…”, Wooyoung’s voice turned into shushed whispers nearly taken by the rain, “most gorgeous, breathtaking, authentic, perceptive, intelligent, adorable-“

“Simply said”, San interrupted, running his hands through Wooyoung’s long black strands, “The love of my life.”

Wooyoung looked from the letter to San and back to the letter. “You are not really sending that, are you?”

San mused, “Why? Haha, I have sent far more embarrassing last time.”

A healthy blush spread on the prince’s cheeks before he boxed San slightly. “Ouch, I am your fiancé!” San’s words intensified the red like crazy and Wooyoung retreated into the cover of San’s neck.

“Oh?”, San asked with a conscious grin, “You like that?” He cupped Wooyoung’s cheeks and made him look at him again, “We are getting married.”

Wooyoung was dark red by now and San was chuckling light-heartedly.

“You are the most adorable person indeed.” He leaned in for a little kiss and let Wooyoung hide in his neck. If it meant staying close to Wooyoung just a bit longer, San would take it. He knew that one of the wedding rituals was that the people to be married weren’t allowed to see each other for a few days before the wedding. San already dreaded when the time would come; he’d not be allowed to see his Wooyoung. But that meant even more that he needed to spend time with him now, so they wouldn’t miss each other too much.

San nuzzled his nose into Wooyoung’s soft hair, closing his eyes. Oh, who was he trying to mislead – they would miss each other every second apart.

The rain didn’t die down and San watched it fall with a concerned frown. It would surely subside soon. Part of their wedding was planned outside, San just hoped that the weather didn’t ruin it. San wanted it to be perfect. He wanted everything to go well and smooth, since everything had been so rocky until here. Wooyoung deserved to be happy on his wedding day.

With the letter to his family in his hand, San ascended the last stairs to the pigeon tower. The gigantic doors were still the same as they opened in an unbearable screech. The flapping of wings sounded, and coos echoed from the stone walls.

San smiled as he entered, watching a feather sail all the way down to the floor in front of him.

“A visitor!”, the pigeon caregiver said, accompanied with the bumps of his cane as he walked towards San. The shadows still laid deep in his face, carving a grimace of a devil on his face and yet, San felt oddly good in his company. Like being with an old wise man, hearing tales of their childhood until you can repeat them yourself. San smiled. Sometimes old people reminded him of his grandparents.

“I have a letter to send to my family.”

“Ah, the west”, he hummed, scratching his chin before whistling with his fingers. San jumped a bit at the loud sound. There was instant silence in the tumultuous tower before wings fluttered and a pigeon landed on the man’s shoulder.

San’s eyes widened at the ribbon around the brown pigeon’s neck. It was Wooyoung’s pigeon.

“No, we can’t take that pigeon”, San said hastily, still having nightmares from the times he had tried to send a letter and nearly had gotten his eyes scratched out.

The old man snickered and petted the bird a bit. It cooed and nuzzled against the wrinkled palm. “I wouldn’t judge that fast, my Lord.”

San raised an eyebrow. That bird hated him without question, always had. He’d need to ask Wooyoung if he can help him send it after all. The warrior sighed. He had just bid his goodbye to Wooyoung and sent him to eat some, because his nervous butt couldn’t keep still since the wedding was approaching at a fast pace.

Before San could offer to get the prince, the pigeon caregiver snipped with his finger, shaking the bird off his shoulder and San watched in horror as the bird flew over, settling on San’s panicked outstretched hands.

“What?”, San asked full of wonders as the pigeon fluttered happily in front of him, chirping lively.

“The prince has snuck in at night multiple times to train it. He always thought I would not notice, would sleep while he spoke with it so softly.”

San’s heart melted, reaching for the pigeon, smiling as it ducked his head a bit at the little pets of his fingers. “When did he do it?”

“Almost every night, my Lord.”

The warrior’s breath stalled.

“The prince was eager to accustom it to your scent, always bringing items from your room or your wardrobe here to wrap the bird in until it would pick on his hands so much that the prince would complain about painful twinges. Oh, what a heart-warming sight it was.”

San was bad in hiding his quivering smile, taking in a sharp breath.

“Sorry”, he whispered, clearing his throat and blinking away the tears. Lately… everything that Wooyoung did made him so emotional.

“You are in love, my Lord”, the pigeon caregiver said, dipping his head slowly, his voice so wise, “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

San bound the letter to the pigeon’s feet, attaching it to the little ribbon so it wouldn’t fall from its back on the way there. With slow steps, San walked towards one of the high windows, going up the last stairs. The tattering of rain reached his ears, grey in grey towering in clouds above.

The fragile, rough voice ringed again, “The prince never felt different about you, my Lord. I have watched that brat ignore his duties to train this bird. I have watched him send away every letter addressed to you – from the first to the last.” The cane clonked on the ground until San felt a present next to him. “Prince Wooyoung has always felt something for you, my Lord.”

San pressed his lips into a tight line, trying to keep his feelings close to his heart. With a little push, he let the pigeon free, watching the feathers entwine until its wings unfolded to their full span. The pigeon flew higher and further until its silhouette became a black shadow in the storm.

“From the day you left, Wooyoung has been talking to you from this exact window, wishing you to come back. I am sure… his words have reached you somehow…”

With a last pat on his shoulder, the caregiver left San to his bleeding heart, his floating feelings, and his bitter smile.

They had for sure… and yet…

“Dear Peaches…”, San whispered into the rain.

His had never reached Wooyoung back.

Wooyoung looked stunning. He always did, of course. But since he was finally officially his fiancé… it still felt so surreal to San. Proposing to Wooyoung had always been one of this daydreams that made him squeal happily in his bed at night, hugging a pillow close to his chest while he stared at the ceiling in his room back in his village.

Now as he sat next to Wooyoung without even having to fight to get the chair next to him, he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. San was happy while he watched the prince fight with a stray hair strand as it kept falling from his ear into the soup he was trying to eat. It was too short to fit in the little ponytail he wore. His arms laid in baby blue puffy sleeves, a big ribbon in the front of his chest.

San had completely forgotten to eat when he heard someone on the table clear their throat, making San look to Seonghwa with a bashful smile. He had been caught, how embarrassing.

Wooyoung reached for a napkin, voicing a noise of surprise as it sailed down between his and San’s chair. San also reached for it, holding Wooyoung’s hand carefully as they both caught it simultaneously. San grinned, leaning closer. He used the napkin to wipe a bit of soup from Wooyoung’s chin. “You look beautiful today.”

The blush on the prince’s face was pretty and San could have watched for hours with no end.

Wooyoung pushed the hair back again, “Thank you”, he giggled before he leaned in for the soup again.

A sigh escaped from the queen as she watched his hair dip into the bowl again, “Darling, maybe it is time for you to try hair clips again? I know you don’t like them, but this is horrendous to watch.”

There was a clear shift. Like a visible force it was draining the life out of the room, leaving empty expressions of silent shock. Seonghwa and Hongjoong looked to the queen with surprise, upset by their words it seemed. Wooyoung had frozen in his place for a second before he slowly continued to eat.

“It is fine like this, mother.”

“But Woo-“

“I can’t. I am sorry.”

A frown of confusion was set on San’s face as he looked through the round. Weird… It wasn’t the first time it came up. Definitely not. There had always been curiosity to this topic, but San was afraid of scaring Wooyoung away. After all the time they had been absent from each other he rather didn’t want to approach an apparently sensitive topic so soon after they had just reunited. San had so painfully counted their springs to that very day… It had been too many.

The warrior regarded his advisor with a glance. His best friend always had knowledge what to do in such situations and what not. San was just so curious. Now that he was about to marry Wooyoung, he wanted to know what weighed him down – eventually carrying it with him. However, Yunho was in a deep conversation with Yeosang at the side who chuckled happily at something he said.

San closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Asking wouldn’t hurt.

“Is… there a reason”, San started with a nervous, shy smile towards Wooyoung, “why you don’t like wearing jewellery?”

The cluttering of the spoon made Wooyoung flinch more than San, making the warrior draw a frown of worry. The prince quickly reached for the cluttery and a napkin, tapping at the little specks of soup he had spilled.

“It takes my feeling of freedom. Jewellery restricts me.”

San squinted his eyes. Something was off. This sounded too much like everything Wooyoung kept mumbling whenever the topic came up. He knew that even in his childhood he wasn’t so fond of it, but yet he had not gotten a near panic attack when wearing necklaces as a child. He pouted, maybe protested a bit, but he would not try to scratch the back of his neck open like that one time with those merchants.

“Wooyoung, I don’t think you-“

“San.”

The warrior had been hunched together, talking to Wooyoung in a hushed voice until his older brother interrupted them. San raised an eyebrow at Seonghwa but disregarded him and took Wooyoung’s hands carefully. “Woo, if there is something that bothers you, please never hesitate to come to me. Ever. No matter what. I know you are lying or at least hiding something. You did wear such things when you were a child after all.”

Wooyoung just shook his head, the smile kind of weird as the rest of the face was hard as stone, almost stoic. He chuckled, replying a bit louder, “Your memory must have been altered since then.”

Huh? San just stared as Wooyoung pulled his hands out of San’s, continuing to eat. This was weird. So weird. It had nagged at the back of San’s mind since the first time he had noticed it. It never was at the forefront of his mind and of course they had their wedding coming up now – there were more important things – but something in his mind urged him to ponder more on it. As if he was missing something.

San was in his head for the rest of the family lunch. The appetite had long left him and Wooyoung too after his mother had talked about the hair clip, making San’s thoughts just race more. He barely realised when the king had asked Wooyoung and San to oversee the goods coming in at the entrance. Everyone was busy with preparations, and it was not a hard task, just looking at a list and controlling what comes in and what not.

The king even said that the first guests are to arrive – the ones staying over the festivities of their wedding. The castle would be a bustling place, none of the comfortable intimacy left for days. San sighed. He’d manage, even though it will drain all his social energy.

He longed for Wooyoung’s hand, hoping that the younger wouldn’t push it away. San smiled. He didn’t.

“Thank you for taking that task upon you”, the king closed the family lunch, “After all, the last thing I want at your wedding are surprises in the banquet.”

Wooyoung shuddered at those words. The incident of their first teatime still too present in his head.

Of course, San would have loved to spend the last days they both were allowed to see each other in some hidden, romantic place. Given that the guests were about to arrive and there were still so many things to do – they couldn’t really escape taking some tasks upon themselves.

The sun shone through the green leaves of the trees. Spring was almost completely over, and San felt the difference of the weather to when he had arrived here in early February. There was no sign that he’d need a jacket or cape soon. Wooyoung walked beside him at a careless pace. They were heading to one of the outposts. It was one of the entrances in their castle’s wall more to the back of the castle. It was just a gravel street reaching through a patch of forest before it led to a fast route to the capital. The opening of the wall was covered in lush ivy, wrapping around the little towers at the side and all the way they could see the stone walls until they disappeared behind trees and bushes.

Guards in white uniform looked their way as they heard their footsteps, bowing as they recognised the prince approaching.

“Prince Wooyoung”, Junhyo said when he straightened out his polite bow.

“We’re here for the list. I am going to check over the arriving goods.”

One of the guards around approached and handed Wooyoung a little booklet and a quill.

There were already some carriages at the side, horses stomping with their horseshoes as they huffed out hot air. Some guards were already checking through the carriages before they let servants come and get the imported goods to carry all the way back to the castle.

Wooyoung frowned as he saw some of them already pant in the warm sunlight. He would remember to ask later if it was possible to move the carriages closer to the castle. He understood that letting so many foreign carriages that were only meant to transport goods so close to their private palace was dangerous, but Wooyoung couldn’t watch his servants suffer too much.

Wooyoung looked at the list squinting his eyes as the sun made the paper appear painfully white. He was so happy that the rain had finally cleared out. Nobody wanted to voice their fears, but everyone was secretly preparing for rain on their wedding and it had dampened everyone’s mood a bit.

Standing there and crossing out order after order, it made a weird feeling go through his body. He felt a heavy stone laying in his stomach, his anticipation for his wedding spiking. He couldn’t believe that it would happen just in a few days. It seemed too surreal to…

Wooyoung looked to San beside him, who had his arms crossed in his back, looking to Wooyoung softly as he felt the eyes on him.

… to marry him.

San had a questioning gaze, but Wooyoung just mildly shook his head.

“Are you mad at me?”, San suddenly asked so quiet that none of the guards picked up on it. Wooyoung just crossed another good out, halting in the middle of the action.

“What? Why should I?”

San scratched his nape as he watched a guard ask the next carriage driver what was inside a certain box.

“I- because I insisted so much on knowing back then. I am sorry Wooyoung. My worry just spikes when it comes to you and your wellbeing.”

The prince hummed. He didn’t think San would ponder so much on it. He felt guilty for not just telling San, but it wasn’t his favourite topic to talk about.

Another servant passed them and Wooyoung let his eyes wander over the list, before San pointed to the object they were carrying.

“It is fine, San. Please don’t worry about it.”

“But I don’t want things to be fine”, San urged, getting a bit closer to get Wooyoung’s attention. The prince looked to him, eyes squinting as the sun blinded him. San reached to caress the side of Wooyoung’s cheek, “I want things to be perfect. I don’t want anything between us.”

A little smile escaped the prince before he continued his task. “There won’t be. Ever. I won’t let anyone or anything come between us again.”

“Good”, San smiled, leaning in to peck his lips shortly, “I won’t too. I love you.”

“I love you too”, Wooyoung chuckled and looked to San briefly when a movement at the side got his attention.

Two servants passed them, but one of them tripped and fell. Wooyoung was fast to reach out when San didn’t react first.

“Wait I’ll help you”, Wooyoung offered, reaching for the servant to pull him up before crouching to the vessel, hands stopping mid-air.

“Is everything alright?”, San asked as Wooyoung’s complete body keyed up. “Wooyoung?”

“San…”, Wooyoung’s voice was a mere whisper, eyes shaking, “I think they are the same”, Wooyoung continued, and San didn’t quite catch up on that.

“Your servants have also been better once, haven’t they?”

A beefy guy jumped out the carriage. The sleeves of his jacket were missing, ripped away, revealing toned muscles. Wooyoung still crouched with a shocked expression when the carriage driver took the vessel. San already reached out to Wooyoung when Wooyoung just clutched onto San’s hand in such desperate way that San decided that he didn’t need to understand.

He longed for the hilt of his sword, when another familiar figure jumped into the front.

“Down”, Junhyo ordered firmly, eyes dark. His hand laid on his sword’s hilt like San’s, but in contrary to San, he drew it the second the guy wasn’t following his words. “NOW!”

“What is your problem?”, the guy bit back when San also slowly got the sword out of his scabbard.

The headguard didn’t bother with him anymore as soon as he had put it to the ground, turning to Wooyoung. “Prince Wooyoung, that’s the-“

“It’s the same”, Wooyoung confirmed with a nod as he stood up, investigating the container from above. “This is the same vessel that brought in the acid to kill the royal family in early spring.”

The people around them halted, some of them gasped as they heard it. The carriage driver looked like he was about to laugh bitterly but probably bit it back as he was at the mercy of the tip of a sword.

San looked at the vessel. It had been stored around the wardrobe Wooyoung had climbed when they tried to find the broken cups back then. It made San bite his tongue. His own sword tipped over, turning from the carriage driver to Junhyo.

“How do you know that?”

Junhyo looked shocked as he saw San pointing the weapon at him, but it was soon replaced by a grumpy huff. “I have examined that vessel more than anyone else after the incident, my Lord.”

San didn’t like the way Junhyo spoke his title, but he had never been akin to causing a scene because of that. However… causing a scene because Wooyoung’s safety was at risk? That sounded rational to him.

With a thump San hit the sword into the dirt, walking over to the vessel and ripping of the lid, before reaching for his weapon again and putting it all the way down to the bottom of the container.

“Why should the south bring any gifts to poison you through one of the main entrances, my prince?”, the beefy guy addressed with folded arms, “It’s rather ridiculous.”

“Shh!”, Wooyoung shushed as he watched San pull out his sword slowly.

The warrior had waited for the sizzling, for the stench of acid assaulting his senses, putting tears in his eyes. He expected his sword to be a scrag of silver but none of that. His blade shone in an orange glimmer, the scent of black tea blooming in the air.

“It’s just tea.”

“I told you!”, the carriage driver complaint, “This is a gift of the southern lord. An official gift. This is an insult.”

“Whatever”, San seethed as he put his sword back. If that lord wanted to spare it out with San, then gladly. The south was troubling them too much lately that San would trust them, especially when the vessel looked like the one that had been carrying the acid. If it was someone from the south, they needed to find out who.

Someone wanted Seonghwa or Wooyoung dead, and San had a bad feeling that his lover was in constant danger.

“We were mistaken”, Junhyo said placatingly, putting the lid back onto the container. There was a mosaic on the lid, green and brown stones forming snakes and the silhouette of a woman. San pulled his face into a frown as he looked at the ring on Junhyo’s finger.

“Well, this container is not consumable anymore. However, you can bring the others in”, Wooyoung sighed as he gestured to the entrance to the castle. He turned the quill between his fingers as he turned the page and another as he looked through the booklet.

San watched the goods of the south disappear on the path covered in foliage as they walked to the palace. A surprised little noise got his attention, and he saw the confused expression on Wooyoung’s face, lips slightly apart.

“Is something wrong, Woo?”, San asked and put his hands on his shoulders, massaging his tension away a bit. Or at least he tried to, but it didn’t work out well when the prince looked up to him. There was a spark of fear flashing up, his teeth caging the mole on his lower lip as he looked back to the list. “There’s no gift from any southern lord on our list.”

San ripped the list out of Wooyoung’s hands, turning a page, and another, and another, before he lowered the booklet slowly. His eyes fell back to the shrinking outline of a person in the distance, carrying the tea inside. What was happening?

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The giggling could be heard in the castle’s halls. Servants and guards tried to hide their smiles, but still stole glances as Wooyoung and San skipped hand in hand along the way. Wooyoung rushed in front, hair whipping around as San pulled his hand, spinning him back into his chest. They stumbled against the wall next to Wooyoung’s chambers.

The smaller boy looked up to him with a big grin, getting the soft dimples back from San before the warrior leaned down to encircle him with his arms and head.

“We are getting married in two days.”

Wooyoung laughed cutely again, slapping San’s chest. “Stop making me blush.”

San leaned down to seal their lips, smirking at some audible gasps and excited whispers. Yes, finally San could just kiss him, caress Wooyoung’s cheeks and collarbone in front of everyone without fearing that they could be seen. There was no need to hide anymore and just that thought made San smile so widely. Finally…

After all those springs…

San took Wooyoung’s hand, making him gasp in surprise as he pulled him into his chambers.

And although they were free to show their love in public now, San still preferred to have Wooyoung just for himself, hidden from everyone’s eyes.

“Are you excited?”, Wooyoung asked as he wrapped his arms around San’s waist. The warrior just smiled at him, bumping his nose into his.

“The excitested.”

Wooyoung scoffed cutely, “I don’t think that is a word, San.”

“Mhh”, San hummed, “Kiss me.” His eyes already half-lidded. San could never get enough of the prince. Of his sparkling grey eyes, his curly black hair, ends already growing out over his shoulders again. San ran a hand through Wooyoung’s hair as they leaned into each other, tasting each other’s lips to the fullest. The dark strands slipped through his fingers sinfully. San gave the mole on his lower lip a kiss before he cupped Wooyoung’s face, caressing the other beneath his left eye. “I love you.”

“I love you too”, Wooyoung beamed up at him, still feeling the butterflies and goosebumps whenever they told each other those words. Wooyoung sincerely hoped that this feeling would never subside.

Their peaceful time was interrupted as they heard some horses outside. They raised an eyebrow at each other before jogging to the window to look from the balcony.

“New guests”, Wooyoung mumbled, watching servants with lanterns welcome carriage after carriage, holding onto San’s waist while peaking from his shoulder halfway hidden, halfway exposed.

Guests for their wedding that was in two days. San couldn’t even imagine it. They would be married in just two days!

San laid his hands on Wooyoung’s, who had them wrapped around the warrior’s stomach now.

“Are you excited too?”

Wooyoung hummed but something sounded off. San turned in his embrace to look at the prince, “That doesn’t sound excited at all.”

And for the first time since days, it seemed as if his expression slipped. It was just for a second but San had picked up on it. “Darling?” Wooyoung looked up at the lovely name, carefully as he must have known that San had seen. “What is going on? You don’t seem so happy for that you are getting married this week.”

And that made the prince sigh, San’s hurt plummeting to the ground.

“I am happy to get married to you”, Wooyoung explained, getting out of San’s embrace to sit down on the edge of the bed. His knees pressed together; hands folded in his lap. His nervous habit to bite on his lip came back as he looked torn.

“But?”, San asked carefully and sat down next to Wooyoung.

When Wooyoung stayed quiet for a while, hair hanging in his eyes, San turned completely his way and took his hands. “Young-ah-“

“I am scared, Sannie.”

San had never felt the way his heart was twisting in his chest, squeezing and tearing. Scared? His senses were on high alert in an instant, squeezing Wooyoung’s hand a bit more urgently.

“What scares you?”

Wooyoung nibbled on his lower lip, eyes blinking furiously.

“Darling, what scares you?”, San repeated worried, pulling Wooyoung’s lips from his teeth and caressing the plumb red.

“Don’t you think-“,Wooyoung started, his hand shaking as he grabbed for the ribbon on San’s shirt, “That something is off?”

San captured his lover’s hand before it slipped from his shirt. He wanted to appease him and tell him that he was wrong and that it was all going perfectly well, but he stopped himself before he could. Because it wasn’t the truth. San also pushed everything to the side, just thinking that it would all go right. But maybe they should all not put a blind eye to everything like that.

A quivering breath escaped Wooyoung, lips trembling as his eyes turned red. “I’m sorry”, he mumbled, voice shaking in a high octave, strained and thin. As he pressed his forearm over his eyes and laid back into the cushions of the bed. San immediately followed, leaning over him in worry. “I am so sorry”, Wooyoung sobbed.

Sometimes San felt so helpless in Wooyoung’s presence. He had thought that training until the blood circulates the other way around was solving all his problems. He would become the strongest warrior and then just be with Wooyoung for the rest of his life, able to protect him from all evil.

San cupped Wooyoung’s cheeks, his body covering Wooyoung’s under his, shadows swallowing the smaller boy. “Wooyoung, listen to me please.”

The prince nodded, succumbing to his sobs that San couldn’t bear hearing, every one of them ripping a hole into his soul.

“We can postpone the wedding-“

“No!”, Wooyoung cried out, his eyes bloodshot as he hastily pushed himself onto his elbows. “I want to! I told you!”

“Tomorrow is our last day together, before we have to be separated. Let’s make the day special then? Let’s spend it somewhere far away from all of this? Just the two of us?”

Wooyoung nodded, eyes shaking as he tried to hold onto San’s words. “That sounds nice”, he whispered, not trusting his voice anymore. The prince pushed into the warrior, hugging him tightly and not intending on leaving him alone any time soon. “Can you stay with me tonight?”

San pushed Wooyoung’s hair back, patting it gently, “I never intended to leave”, he said closing his eyes and breathed the scent of Wooyoung in.

“My Prince, aren’t you enjoying yourself?”

“Huh?”, Wooyoung ducked his head as he squinted through the hot air, his forehead was full of sweat. His throat felt so dry, forming up words was a hassle and yet he tried and put on a smile for the stranger. He wore some suit, fingers heavy with rings.

“I am quite alright. The weather does not become me well, I fear”, Wooyoung spoke up politely, seeking Yeosang out for some help. He was in no condition to small talk. He crunched with his teeth as Yeosang wasn’t anywhere around. He had told him to get his fan from the carriage as he really couldn’t do this anymore. It wasn’t pressuring hot but for some reason the humid air pushed onto his lungs, and he had troubles breathing.

“That is unfortunate since the nice sun demands for me to ask such a beautiful boy like you for a summer dance.”

Wooyoung smiled awkwardly, trying to find out who was talking to him. He had never seen him before – he must have been a new member of aristocracy as Wooyoung had grown up with most of the people after all.

“I am afraid-“, Wooyoung started feeling his forehead as the heat in his body grew unbelievable hot, making the prince press his lips together. Gosh he was dizzy.

“Please take my fan, my prince.”

Decorated fabric turned up in his sight, flowers dipped in golden wrapping around the ends where snakes pooled. Wooyoung caught a glimpse of the person’s eyes again, gasping slightly for air as his vision narrowed down.

“I- I don’t want your fan”, Wooyoung rasped out as it was the truth. He didn’t want to use anyone’s fan. Anyone’s other than-

“Wooyoung, I have it! Oh-“, Yeosang finally arrived with a plain white fan, the sight of it laying around the prince’s shoulders like a blanket of comfort.

The 17-year-old boy reached his arms out like a little child for his toy until the familiar weight of the object laid in his hands. He took a deep breath, the first one that really reached the bottom of his lungs since minutes, bringing tears to his eyes.

“What an insult”, the lord before Wooyoung mumbled under a breath as he clapped his glamorous fan shut.

People were looking their way, sticking their heads together to discuss the humiliation that had just fallen upon the man who had been declined by the second prince.

Wooyoung’s grip on the fan tightened as he tried to calm his breaths with the cool air, his mind clearing up a bit when Yeosang stepped in to appease the man.

“The young prince didn’t mean it like that. He is careful with trusting the help of strangers like he has been taught to do.”

It was a lie as Wooyoung just lo- he… the fan was a gift from San.

His Sannie…

The pressure on his lungs may have subsided, but the burning in his chest had long gotten a part of his every day.

He missed him so dearly…

Cold hands on his chin made him look up, jumping out of his skin as he was met with a cold stare. The fingers felt so chapped on his soft skin, so rough, so much like hands trailing over his collarbones, squeezing his skin until it went numb.

The sounds mixed into a pool together with the picture in front of him as the fingertips distorted into a searing pain, wandering from his chin all the way down to his neck where it closed in. More and more and m-

“Wooyoung!!”

His breathing came out in gasps, sweat trickling down his temple and soaking the pillow beneath. He looked in pain, tears escaping his closed eyes as San leaned over him, shaking the prince at his shoulders.

“Love, wake up!!”, the shaking didn’t seem to help, and San grew more and more scared that Wooyoung would choke on his own breaths if he didn’t wake up soon. He cradled his head carefully between his hands, caressing the tears from his cheeks. “Wooyoung, shhhh. Shhh, it’s alright. Wake up, it’s just a dream. Please, darling.”

A shaking hand reached suddenly behind San, raising until it found to San’s back. San immediately caught the hand to make it stay there.

“Yes, it’s me, love. You feel me, right? You are safe. Open your eyes.”

The panicked gasps subsided, and San felt like his adrenaline dropped from a thousand to zero as Wooyoung cracked his eyes open tiredly. The onyx looked milky and sullen, and San gave him a shaky smile after swallowing hard.

“Wooyoung”, he whispered in a hushed voice, “God”, he choked out, leaning his forehead against Wooyoung’s in an exhausted manner. To not make the prince feel caged after what he supposed was a bad nightmare, San leaned back, making sure not to sit on Wooyoung’s body as he helped him sit up too. “Are you alright?”

He pulled his eyebrows together as Wooyoung didn’t answer. He only looked around, eyes kind of lost in the room.

The prince looked at his hands, before they reached to touch around his neck, tears still standing in his grey eyes. San reached to pet his hair down smoothly.

“You are safe, love. Everything is alright.”

Wooyoung looked to San and nodded, before he took one of San’s hands and played with his fingers. Now that Wooyoung seemed to be better and out of the danger, San reached to the side and lit a candle, the whole room illuminating in an orange shine. The trails of tears glittered on Wooyoung’s skin like stars.

They sat there in silence a bit, only the cries of foxes and owls in the distance, wind making the branches grumble outside, scratching at the windows and outer walls. Footsteps sounded outside. Heavy metal cluttering as the guards switched positions from one corner of the hallways to the other occasionally.

San watched Wooyoung carefully, still stressed about the situation. No matter how much he tried to not think about the way he was wakened, feeling the trembles going through Wooyoung’s bodies, gasping for air that was denied like he was drowning, San still felt it. If there was an enemy in front of them, San would draw his sword, would kill the people in their way – but he didn’t know what to do against this panic, this helpless fight for air that seemed to be insufficient as Wooyoung was not even unconscious.

The prince stayed quiet, swallowing hard every now and then, probably afraid that every breath could be denied again, shivers running down his spine. San took both of Wooyoung’s hands, placing them in his lap when he pulled his legs cross-legged.

“Why is your mind fighting against you, Wooyoung? What did you see?”

The words made the prince jolt, making San feel bad about speaking up in the silence. But he needed to know what this was. He needed to protect Wooyoung. However, Wooyoung’s next words pushed a dagger through his heart. Maybe… he wasn’t able to protect Wooyoung after all.

“I don’t know”, Wooyoung rasped as if he had cried for hours, “There’s nothing you can do. I’ve had them for days.”

Days…

San didn’t reply to that. He wanted to keep them all away, be Wooyoung’s dreamcatcher and guardian, but even if he would sit awake all night on his side, there was no way he could make them go away, could he?

San cupped Wooyoung’s cheeks, “They will go away, love.”

The grey eyes looked up, catching the warm brown of San in the candlelight, unsure, “How do you know that?”

San hated to hear those insecurities and fears in Wooyoung’s fragile, shaking voice. He wanted to see that carefree and brave boy, wanted to see him conquer every challenge laid in his way. San would forever be at his side to witness it all.

“I will make sure to hunt all your demons away. I will be your husband, Wooyoung”, San smiled softly, “They will all have to go through me first.”

Wooyoung smiled tiredly, bags under his eyes that San seemed to notice for the first time. Had Wooyoung really slept that bad lately?

“Can we go to sleep again?”, Wooyoung mumbled.

“Are you sure? We can also go for a night walk. Whatever helps you to calm down.”

The prince chuckled lightly, before he wrapped his arms around San’s neck, pulling him back onto the bed, right above Wooyoung as San was surprised by the act and didn’t react fast enough.

“This”, Wooyoung says, locking eyes with San right above him, bare inches separating them, “This helps me calm down.” Their eyes slowly closed as soon as Wooyoung craned his neck and graced his lips against San’s, making the warrior lower further to deepen the kiss.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The grass reached all the way up to his knees. Wooyoung let his hand flow through the blades. The place had such a nostalgic tone to him. San walked behind him, climbing the last rocks up. They weren’t high or anything, it was just a high step, but nothing dangerous. They had climbed it as children too.

Wooyoung reached for San’s hand, the warrior smiling at Wooyoung and taking his hand for support he didn’t need, but San would never deny a possibility to hold Wooyoung’s hand.

The wind up here was stronger, wilder as it pushed Wooyoung’s black hair from side to side. He tried to hold it back to see the little lawn, a lonely oak tree at the cliff. A broken swing was attached at one of the branches. It hadn’t been broken the last time Wooyoung had visited the place. However,… last time was…

“It’s been years”, San smiled as he too fought to get somehow through the high grass. Wooyoung giggled as he watched San’s broad back, not believing that the same person had been that small boy with bright eyes and dimples, freckles everywhere over his neck, giving him a sunny attitude.

“Indeed”, Wooyoung chirped and ran up to San, who just lifted Wooyoung the second he reached him. “It was years ago”, he repeated, cupping San’s cheeks and squished them a bit.

It was the same place Wooyoung had brought San seven years ago when his departure was already decided, and the prince had tried to fight truth with his small and young hands. Had brought San all the way up there. He chuckled as he remembered it so well.

“Why did you bring me here?”, San asked, mouth hanging wide open as he leaned a hand against the tree trunk before looking down into the valley. The castle and capital twinkled in the sunlight in the far distance.

Wooyoung jumped onto San’s back, hugging him tightly.

San gasped, “Wooyoung be careful! This cliff is very high-“

“I love you, don’t go!!”

The young warrior went quiet on that and Wooyoung had mistaken it for denial of truth for years, when all San was doing back then was blushing in the light of Wooyoung’s so bluntly spoken words. Oh, if the prince just knew.

San pulled himself together, releasing a breath as quiet as possible to tone down his reddened cheeks before shaking Wooyoung off his shoulders and turning to him.

“I wish I didn’t need to leave”, he said with a bitter smile, making Wooyoung pout.

“You won’t.”

San was rendered speechless as the sun glistened in the long silky, strands of Wooyoung’s hair. The wind let it flow in waves, making Wooyoung hold back a side so it wouldn’t cover his face.

“I wish.”

The pout on the prince’s face grew, “I brough you here so nobody could find you. So nobody can take you away.”

San looked dumbfounded before he cracked up in a loud laughter. It roused some crows from nearby trees of the forest below as it echoed over the wides of Azalea.

There was only one person making San laugh like that, making him feel that alive.

“Nobody ever will. I will always be yours.”

San carefully sat Wooyoung down, until the long grass blades brushed over his legs. His eyes seemed distant like Wooyoung’s.

“What are you thinking about?”, Wooyoung whispered, playing with San’s short hair in the nape of his neck.

“You.”

An unbelievable warmth pooled in Wooyoung’s stomach, the grin coming so naturally on his lips. “Good.” It grew wider and wider, “Me too.”

The grass tickled their legs, as they looked at each other. Wooyoung pulled up his shoulders happily before lowering them as he readjusted his hands in San’s nape, feeling the way San drew circles on his waist.

“Did you already hear from your parents?”, Wooyoung asked but regretted it immediately as San’s smile fell.

Slowly, San stalked away, walking over to the oak tree.

“Yes, I did”, he crouched down at the swing, putting some weight on it with the palm of his hand and scrunching his nose as he heard a loud creaking of the old wood. “They won’t make it.”

“What!?”, Wooyoung exclaimed, a hand pressed to his chest as he took a step towards San.

“The path is too complicated and long. It has been a bit too sudden.”

A shiver travelled through Wooyoung’s body. Those were exactly the words Wooyoung was mumbling to himself every day. It was too sudden.

Too sudden.

Way too sudden.

“Hey”, San said soothingly, coming closer to take Wooyoung’s hand, intertwining their fingers, “Everything will go well.”

“But your parents-“

“Are overjoyed that I’m marrying you.” The sun was beating down on them on the cliff without shadows and it made Wooyoung squint his eyes to see San better.

“But I know. I know it’s important to you that they are here. I know-“ Wooyoung took another step towards him, feeling a weird heat flash through his body and marking his vision with black dots. “Oh-“, Wooyoung breathed as his legs grow weak.

His body grew numb as he felt lightheaded all of a sudden.

“Wooyoung!”, San shouted as he realised that Wooyoung was fainting, grabbing his wrist, wrapping the other arm around his waist and press him firmly to his chest so he wouldn’t fall.

“Sorry”, Wooyoung mumbled, eyes closed as everything started spinning, his free hand laid flatly on San’s broad chest to stabilise himself and steady his balance again. Wooyoung sighed, “I should have taken your fan with me. Yeosang is right when he tells me not to leave without it on sunny days.”

“What? Why? It’s not even May yet, the sun can’t be the reason.”

Wooyoung stayed quiet because he remembered saying the exact same words back then when their physician had told Wooyoung to be careful in the summer months.

“It’s alright, Sannie”, Wooyoung appeased as soon as the dizziness cleared like fog on a November noon. “I have had it since long ago.”

The warrior didn’t loosen his grip at all. Quite the contrary as every word that left Wooyoung’s mouth made him feel more and more uneasy. “When did this start?”

Wooyoung dipped his head to the side, twitching as it made his vision swim again. “Do you remember when Yeosang told you about that time I denied the fan of the lord at a fest? About that time… I don’t know when it exactly started.”

San didn’t look relieved at all. “Wooyoung”, he said with such emphasis, hugging him closer.

“I am fine, San. Had been for multiple years. And all thanks to your pretty fan.” Wooyoung tip-toed, kissing his nose. “So, thank you for it.”

San closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to convince himself that Wooyoung was alright. That it was nothing to worry. He opened his eyes again when Wooyoung pressed his head against San’s shoulder, leaning against him like a pillow.

“I never take any fan but yours. Never. Not even when I am offered another.”

San smirked cheekily as it was cute to imagine, how a younger version of Wooyoung would deny a man’s pretty, glamorous fan for the plain white one San had gifted him for his birthday.

“Not everyone deserves my favour for such gesture. I take your fan, or none”, Wooyoung chuckled but stopped abruptly, “Or well, I should start not forgetting it at home.”

“You really shouldn’t”, San approved, a little bit worried still, but he tried to mask it. “Oh, how I wish, I would have seen that lord’s face. He must have been filled with indignation.”

“Oh, but you have seen it.”

San frowned, “What do you mean?”

“It is the guy who asked for a dance at the Persephone ball. I only realised while we danced.”

The blood in San’s veins froze. The circles on Wooyoung’s skin stopped.

The prince didn’t notice the stiffness in his lover’s body as he just let his eyes wander over the scenery, taking it the breathtaking landscape.

“It’s a bit funny, isn’t it”, Wooyoung just continued, watching the castle twinkle so majestically in the distance. “Last time we were here, I was poisoned with the thought of your departure, but this time, it’s the beginning of something new. Of our actual relationship.” Wooyoung had a dreamy smile gracing his lips. “How humorous.”

He hugged San tighter, unbeknownst San’s racing thoughts, his screaming heart and the destiny that laid before them, ready to twist those last words and shake them to their utter core.

“I never thought this would be so hard”, San sighed as he looked at his pocket watch.

Yunho huffed, “San, you have been separated from Wooyoung for less than a day. Your wedding is already tomorrow. Get a grip.”

The warrior squinted at his best friend, giving him a light jab against his head. Yunho really had nothing better to do than to make fun of him. If he wasn’t so nervous for his wedding, he would have allowed himself to say something snarky back. But he couldn’t, his leg jumping up and down in anticipation.

“This ritual is shit”, San let escape the vulgar tone, making Yunho and Mingi snicker, who had decided to keep San company during his late dinner, since the warrior had complained about not being able to sleep early as it was recommended to him.

The festivities tomorrow would be so long into the night that it was better if San just got a good night of sleep. There was no way that Wooyoung was any different, right? He didn’t want to take it as truth that Wooyoung would just casually slumber in his bed until tomorrow.

“I’ll go for a walk and then to bed”, San announced as he had enough from doing nothing, making his friend’s heads perk up.

“You are not allowed to go to Wooyoung.”

“I am not- oh god, damnit”, San exhaled. Sometimes he hated how much his friends knew him.

“San-“

“I won’t!”, the warrior promised. It was just one night in exchange for thousands to come. He could do that. “I won’t.”

When he stepped onto the hallway, he wasn’t surprised to see the buzzling life out there. Servants and guards were running around, trying to be quiet as to not to disturb the royal family or guests. They were in full preparation for their wedding already. San wandered down the halls, greeting the people rushing past him with a polite nod. Some of them greeted him back, others just stared, probably surprised to see San wander around alone at such hour.

San sighed as he found himself in the part of the castle where the royal family’s chambers laid. His heart had brought him all the way here without even realising. His eyes followed the tiles of the floor to the doors, locking with Wooyoung’s for a second. The guard at the end of the hallway eyed San suspiciously, aware of the ritual and probably would hinder San from entering even if he would want to.

“What am I doing here…”, San whispered to himself and turned again when there were suddenly voices in his back.

“Father!”, a voice boomed through the hall, before it continued in a shushed hiss, “Father, he is not welcome!”

It was Seonghwa. San saw the figures turn the corner, making him hurry behind one of the pillars to his right. He pressed his back to the marble and listened into their conversation. Why would Seonghwa and the king be awake at such hour too?

“A wedding is a political event, Seonghwa. Therefore, the higher lords are all invited.”

“But father, this man has asked one too many times for Wooyoung’s hand in marriage. I do not want someone like that on the day of his wedding here. This smells like trouble.”

San cracked a brow.

“I understand your concern and believe me when I say I share it. However, it is not going to be easy to hinder his appearance without causing a scene and potentially overlie its silence. If we cause a scene, Wooyoung will raise suspicion. We haven’t worked that hard to keep it low for him to find out on his wedding day.”

“But the southern lord-“

“We will try our best, Seonghwa.”

San halted his breaths as Seonghwa and the king passed the pillar he was hiding behind, not having noticed him there. The warrior waited another minute before releasing his breath. His mind was swirling with questions.

Who? Who had asked for Wooyoung’s hand in marriage? Who was not welcomed?

The last words of Seonghwa swirled in his head.

Southern lord…

He had heard too many tales about this mystical southern lord? Was it the same that had danced with Wooyoung? Was it someone else? Was it even someone San knew? He had been raised with the high etiquette and yet he wasn’t quite sure how the puzzle pieces fitted together.

All he knew was, that his senses went crazy on the newfound information. He glanced around the pillar, noticing the absence of the guard in the hallway. Shouldn’t there be someone? One guard at a time at least? But also – San saw his chance.

He tip-toed to Wooyoung’s door, looking left and right, but was still met with lonesome. Things had been weird all along but as of late his anxiety had been spiking. Something was going on. Something neither Wooyoung and especially not San was able to grasp. Oh, how he wished people would just lay everything open in front of him.

San raised his arm for a knock, knuckles hovering in front of the door.

However, Wooyoung was really excited for the wedding. Although he had concerns like San, he did his best to believe in the good, to be optimistic and enjoy it. Just like… San had told him to. San had helped built up his mood and confidence – coming to him to check on him despite the ritual not allowing him, would make Wooyoung wary about it again, wouldn’t it?

A little smile blossomed on San’s lips when he lowered his hand.

“It will be alright”, San whispered to himself, thinking back to the day before and how he had held Wooyoung against his chest, how he had kissed him breathless when they shared some cuddles and made each other laugh when they thought they were alone.

San put his hands deep into his trousers’ pockets as he left for his chambers.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

There was a constant buzzing in his ears. His heartbeat. Once. Twice. He heard it. So loud. So clear. The people around him had long mixed into a blurry mess. His fingers twitched in fear as he watched the people go down with screams of agony and pain. It had been a second and everything went to hell.

It was that moment, he felt the breath against his shoulder. Hot air scratching at his body, fingers feeling down his shoulders as Wooyoung froze to a pillar of ice. He couldn’t even react fast enough when suddenly he felt cold metal stab into his skin, constricting his stream of air.

He gasped loudly as his body finally moved, grabbing for the necklace around his neck, pulling tighter and tighter around his throat.

His senses were heightened and yet he felt the strength leaving him so fast. He gasped for air but there was none. Trying to scream for help, but there was no sound. Tears stung in his eyes when his throat started to hurt.

This wasn’t happening, right? He wouldn’t- he wouldn’t just die, right? It wouldn’t…

“Don’t you ever feel shame for what you’ve done back then.”

The voice seemed like oceans away, as if Wooyoung was long drowned somewhere underneath, the specks of sunlight glistening at a surface he was never able to reach on his own, held hostage at the bottom of the sea.

At the attempt of a word, Wooyoung let out a rasping sound that hurt with every movement of his Adam’s apple against the chains. At the edge of his consciousness, he remembered something running down his neck in little streams, feeling it seep through the fabric of his pretty dress. His mom loved that dress. It had been made by his late grandmother. It was important. It was-

Wooyoung’s eyes shook in horror.

It was drenched in blood.

His blood.

His-

“I’ll make you pay for what you’ve done to me.”

Another jerk of the metal around his neck made Wooyoung gawk. It hurt. It hurt. His head fell back against someone’s chest. Someone… Someone taller than him. A head. Maybe two. And then… Wooyoung gasped a last time for air, his vision already closing down on him like a curtain.

Those eyes. Hungry for power, toxic like the bite of a snake. He didn’t like his voice, didn’t like his chapped teeth, beard at the side of his chin. But he…

Wooyoung’s eyes rolled back.

He seemed so familiar.

Wooyoung gasped for air, jolting up in the covers of his bed. But other than last time, he wasn’t with San. Their wedding was due. They had to be separated and yet panic got a hold of his heart as he couldn’t sit up, a sudden weight pushing him down again with such power that it knocked the air out of his lungs. He tried to cough.

The eyes of the prince catapulted open as soon as he felt a hand wrap around his throat, panic rising.

Was he still dreaming?

But then he heard a piercing scream from somewhere in the castle. His heart stopped as he was met eye to eye with the man of his nightmares. The same face laughing down on his like a hyena as dense smoke was framing him like a demon.

Demon…

“I will make sure to hunt all your demons away. I will be your husband, Wooyoung. They will all have to go through me first.”

“SA-“, Wooyoung screeched, promptly dying down under the pressure of the hand on his throat as it pressed down violently, forcing tears into Wooyoung’s eyes.

San…

His vision blurred more and more as he noticed faintly the stench of smoke, of fire, and then this warmth.

The prince’s eyes fell to the side, trying to get a glimpse outside of the window before his eyes would give into the lurking dark.

If the hand choking him hadn’t already robbed him of his breath, the fire swallowing the castle’s walls, his home, would.

Chapter Text

San’s head jerked up.

His eyes involuntarily searched for the direction Wooyoung’s chamber laid in.

“San?” The voice of Yunho sounded over the crackling of the fire, strained and with a cough at the end. The warrior looked back to his best friend, seeing his grime covered cheeks. San looked back to the stairs leading upwards but was swiftly drawn back to his task at hand as a handful of guests rushed their way.

“Down the hall are guards positioned, they will lead you out!”, San urged the lords and ladies to escape the burning castle.

“Thank you, my gracious Lord!”, a panicked old woman clasped San’s hand with her sweaty one. San only nodded, trying to stay in the moment but his mind started shifting.

Was Wooyoung already evacuated? The guards must have long gotten the royal family to safety. Junhyo’s chambers weren’t as far as San’s – he must have run there first thing first.

When San was wakened by the aggressive stench of smoke, all he had seen was a red fog towering in every room including his own. His mind had somehow jumbled awake when he forced himself out of bed, pulling on some pants and boots, and throwing one of his high-class jackets over his bare chest. In the heat of the fire, there was no use for any more anyway. The fire burning around them made his chest glisten in an orange shimmer, sweat trickling down the outlines of his muscles.

“San, don’t space out now!”, Yunho yelled, making San jump. He had not even realised that he was only staring to the direction where the stairs laid again – one of the only ways up to the royal chambers already heavily covered by flames.

He knew that the people who were here for a visit needed him. As a warrior it was his duty to guide them all outside. He had already saved some from being trapped beneath burning objects. And he shall do it again.

But his heart and mind took different directions, tearing at the string of his sanity. It tore him apart, making his fingers twitch as he told more and more people where they had to go to get to safety when all San wanted was…

A flash of an image crossed his mind. He saw Wooyoung at that fountain, eyes slowly widening as he recognised San after all those springs… after all those years. He heard the echoing of the fan falling from his hands or was it one of the pillars breaking down and burying ways of escape for the people inside.

“San, if you need to go to him, please do! I will manage here!

San gasped, blinking away the stinging feeling in his eyes as he turned, just in time to notice the burnt ashes of wood crumble down onto his head. He looked up just to see the fire crackling above them. His eyes widened. When did the fire reach to the upper floors?

“Yunho! Watch out!”, San pushed his friend back until he fell stumbling to the floor, one of the guests rushing to his side to help him up already when Yunho was about to scream at San. His words were overshadowed by the noise of the ceiling breaking through with tons of burning furniture.

San protected his face with his arms as he jumped some steps back to avoid getting hit. A cloud of smoke and ash swirled up into the air, making San unable to see his own hands in front of him for a second. A dreading feeling of the air staying this dense settled as his vision grew a fiery orange. Shit.

“Yunho!”, San yelled, hoping that despite the mess he would still hear him when he wasn’t able to see him anymore.

“San, are you alright!?”

The answer made San breathe out, coughing immediately at the scratching feeling in his throat. The air didn’t get any better and San held his jacket over his lower face, covering his nose and mouth after affirming Yunho’s question for his well-being.

“Take the people and run! I’ll meet up with you outside!”

“But San-“

“There’s no time to fight!”, San screeched over the fire as the smoke finally cleared out a bit. The warrior was finally able to make out his advisor’s face behind all the fallen rubble, some bloody patch on the right side of his hairline. “Please get to safety, Yunho.”

He trusted Yunho to be strong, to not get himself killed in this fire but… he was still his best friend. He wanted him out here as soon as possible too.

The eyes of his advisor were conflicted, but there was no way to reach over to San, the fire between them already reaching to the ceiling in terrifying tongues.

“I’ll see you outside”, Yunho said as he helped some people stand up, probably having thrown themselves on the floor as the ceiling came down. He patted them on their backs to leave, already turning towards the exit too. “You and Wooyoung.”

San locked his eyes with his advisor, both sending each other prayers of safety before nodding with determination.

Time to get his prince from the grasps of the flames – although he would prefer that Wooyoung was long standing in the darkness of their gardens, a warm blanket thrown over his naked arms, shivering as he watched his home burn, awaiting his lover to run outside and into his arms. The thought made San look outside the window next to the stairs, seeing a mass of people gathering there.

He couldn’t take such risks though and ascended the crumbling stairs. One of them gave in under his weight, making the warrior break in with his leg, only avoiding to fall completely as he had a tight grip on the handrail. He gritted his teeth as the sharp splitters tore on his pants’ fabric. He pulled himself forward, jaw tense.

“I am coming Wooyoung. I am coming.”

The hallway laid in grey light fog. The fire must have been set somewhere else as there were no flames in sight yet. San hadn’t gotten the time to think about the source of this all. But he was pretty sure that no kitchen incident of any size could cause the whole royal palace to burn.

This was man-made and a day before a royal wedding – this wasn’t just an unplanned act of revolt. This may as well be connected with all the attacks on the family so far, on Wooyoung in particular. A reason more to check if he had already escaped and was with his family and surrounded by guards protecting him.

San exhaled quickly, trying not to swallow too much of the smoke as he took in the familiar door. They had leaned at the wall right next to it just a few days ago, kissing in the sweet bubble they had built themselves. San reached for the handle, pressing it open slowly, his throat constricting more and more as his eyes blurred in the burning air.

A creaking sound fell from it as it laid open the chamber of his lover, San’s hand falling down powerlessly as he saw the shadow leaning over Wooyoung’s limp form. The prince laid in his white shorts and wide yellow gown on his bed, hair messy as he must have turned a lot in his sleep or… in an attempt to stay alive.

San only saw a glimpse of the violet and red bruises on Wooyoung’s neck before he had already dashed into the room and into the side of the stranger. The attacker fell from the bed that he had the audacity to even kneel on in his dirty clothes. San used the second to hover over Wooyoung, placing his hands like a protective wall next to his head. His whole neck was painted in dark colours glowing painfully on the pale skin, lips in a sickening purple.

“Oh my god”, San stumbled over his own words as he brushed the hair out of Wooyoung’s face. He wasn’t too late, right? He wasn’t-

Immediately, San pushed his hand in front of Wooyoung’s face, trying to detect any breathing but his own was so panicked that he was not able to feel anything but his blood pumping in his veins. It flowed so loudly in his ears that he didn’t hear the rustling of clothes next to him, let alone the metallic clunker. Only when a sullen yet horrendous pain knocked him off the bed, San snapped out of his panicked trance.

The impact made him roll to the floor, coming to a violent halt by the foot of some table, stabbing into his spine, making him gasp. He flung his eyes open, seeing the man hovering beside Wooyoung’s laying form, who looked so fragile next to the heavy broken vase in his attacker’s hands, dripping of water and blood. Some white roses sailed down onto the floor and Wooyoung’s bed, embracing him in white petals stained in blood.

San rolled onto his lower arms, feeling something drip down his left temple. He gritted his teeth as he pulled himself onto his swaying legs, room slightly spinning. It was San’s blood on those innocent roses.

Drawing his sword was the first thing that came to San’s mind, but he also knew that it was his last option as he knew he wouldn’t get Wooyoung out of here without carrying him. If he pulled his sword now, he would most likely have to drop it at some point for Wooyoung’s sake.

Now that San stood eye to eye with the stranger, his eyes flared up. “You.”

The southern lord from the ball gave San a dirty grin. “Who else should it be – I am surprised you haven’t caught onto it sooner. A man trained in martial arts is of no worth here, it seems.” He poked Wooyoung’s forehead to emphasise his words, making San see red.

“Don’t you fucking touch him!”, San growled as he jumped forward, trying for a punch to his face, but the lord backed away. The acid pooled in San’s heart and mind at the memory of him pulling Wooyoung so close while they were dancing. He fledged with his teeth as San was eager to fight but not with the bed and Wooyoung laying between them.

If he had been in his normal attire and in his fighting boots, he would-

San wiggled with his toes, feeling the metal against his bare feet. He had! The warrior reached for one of the vase’s shards that had fallen onto Wooyoung’s blankets and slashed it across the lord’s face, making him hold his cheek. He had probably not expected such a cowardly move by San, but he needed time to get his knife.

In a trained move, he lifted his foot and got the blade out of his boot, before leaning over Wooyoung to pull him closer while stabbing the little knife into the man’s shoulder that was turned to him. After just a short yell, the lord had already grabbed San’s hand that was holding the handle, meeting him with wild eyes. But San just pushed it further until the man let San’s hand go.

In the split of a second, San looked over Wooyoung’s body, making sure there were no splitters or roses with thorns on his body before picking him up. Just as the lord reached out for them with his hand, blood dripping from it, he reached into nothing but air. San had already straightened his back, backing away from the bed with Wooyoung settled in his arms, an arm beneath his back, the other hooked under his legs.

The way Wooyoung’s head hung down his arms limply made San’s heart stood still. He tried to push Wooyoung’s head somehow up and against his chest while backing away. He looked like a porcelain doll in his arms, feeling so lifeless and close to breaking. He looked more dead than alive.

Wooyoung needed a doctor. NOW!

San’s breath caught in his throat as a whistling sound cut the air, piping at his ear, before a hot pain seared at his cheek. His eyes were wide as he looked to the man that has just pulled his knife out of his shoulder and thrown it their way.

“You better not come in the way of my work”, the lord threatened but San didn’t let it face him, as he tightened his arms around Wooyoung and made a run for it. He knew that the guy would be right on his heels but as long as Wooyoung was unconscious in his arms there was no way he could fight. If the lord wanted Wooyoung dead, then San would make sure he wouldn’t get what he wanted. All he could get was his own certain death.

San looked right and left, seeing how the flames had stacked up on the stairs he had come from and decided rashly for the other way. His breath rasped in his own head, way too loud as tears started to sting in his eyes again, the smoke denser than before, fire having reached the upper level now too. He took a look back, the lord not on their heels yet as San turned a corner. He was blindly running, having lost his orientation in the flames long ago. He looked down to Wooyoung sleeping in his arms, breath catching once again as he graced the bruises around his neck, trying to shake the picture of him being waken up by hands choking him out of his dreams.

“Did you call for my help? Did I leave you unanswered?”, San whimpered but bit his lower lip as now was not the time to give into his panic and dread yet. He sighed kind of resigned, “My promise to protect you seems so futile at this point”, he chuckled bitterly, all alone in the castle.

San slid under the hollow space of some stairs. If he wasn’t completely mistaken, they led up to the pigeon tower. Ascending was their last option though, since San needed to get Wooyoung out – fast.

Now the warrior had finally time to look at his lover, lowering him carefully to the ground.

“Wooyoung”, he called with such weight in his voice that it pressed onto his own lungs, but the prince stayed silent. A cold hand gripped his heart as he tried again to check for any breathing.

Nothing.

San’s eyes shook in a panic. No. That couldn’t be. No. He shook his head as his heart sped up – he had just been some rooms away.

The sullen sounds of steps echoed in the halls and San gritted his teeth. He pushed Wooyoung’s black strands behind his ears, trying not to lose his sanity.

“Live. Please, live!”, San cried out, sending a desperate plea to the gods above before he leaned down to Wooyoung’s lips. He didn’t know anything about medicine or injuries. However, he knew that a body in shock state could be released by some air and if Wooyoung was unable to command his body to take that breath, San would force it into him.

At the touch of Wooyoung’s soft lips on his, another set of tears shot to San’s eyes. Wooyoung…

San cradled his cheek with a hand, fingers caressing his soft skin with so much love. The tears escaped, running over San’s ragged skin, dropping from the tip of his nose onto Wooyoung’s pale face. He pushed his thumb between Wooyoung’s lips and helped opening them a bit to push all his air into Wooyoung’s body.

Please… San cried as he kissed his sleeping lover. His other hand laid on Woo’s ribcage, feeling how the air made it rise. Please…

A sob tore San from his task. His own as he couldn’t contain the pain and hurt silently in his body. “Love, please! Wake up, darling. Wake, up…”, San pressed his forehead onto Wooyoung’s, “I love you, please. D- Don’t leave me. Not again.”

In his despair, San pressed his lips stained by his own salty tears onto Wooyoung’s again, muttering his pleadings in his mind like a mantra. He felt like his heart was stabbed with the dagger he had held off for years. He hadn’t allowed himself to feel more for the boy than he already did – trying to avoid getting hurt at all cost. And now…

Suddenly the stream of air halted, then tumbled. San pulled back as the air came back, eyes widening.

Violent coughs fell from Wooyoung’s lips, gasping for air like a drowning man. His hands flung blindly upwards, getting a grip onto San and clawing at his back in an attempt to pull San close, clinging to him for dear life.

“By all the gods…”, San rasped as he put his arms safely around Wooyoung’s quivering form, shaken by coughs, “You are alright – by hell’s name – you are alive!”

San didn’t care that his words fell in wet sobs from his mouth as he muffled them anyways – pushing his face against Wooyoung’s nape of neck. However, when the coughs didn’t die down, every gasp for air sounding more desperate than the next, San loosened his embrace, cupping Wooyoung’s cheeks instead.

His eyes were foggy, dazed as they didn’t even found San’s. “Wooyoung, darling, look at me. Breathe with me.” Wooyoung tried to claw onto San again, sobs erupting between the coughs. “Like me, love.” San tried his utmost best to keep the panic out of his voice – with mild success as it was a trembling mess, breaking at the nickname of the prince.

San led Wooyoung’s hands to San’s chest, placing them their so he would feel the rise and fall of his own breaths that he tried to keep calm for Wooyoung’s sake.

“In and out, Wooyoung. You can do it.”

In all honesty, San couldn’t even blame Wooyoung for looking so lost and desperate as every breath must have stung like fire due to the heavy smoke.

“… can’t…”, Wooyoung rasped, eyes glassy as he reached to his neck but flinched hard as he touched the bruises.

“Don’t!”, San shouted and took Wooyoung’s wrists so he could not hurt himself further. “You are alright. You are going to be alright.”

Wooyoung tried to swallow but the movement of his throat made him snivel, a gagged sound falling from his lips at the pain. “It hurts…”

San sighed in relief. At least he is breathing somewhat normally again.

“I know, love. I know”, he shushed as he cradled Wooyoung carefully against his chest. The feeling of his lover breathing against his naked skin made San calm down a bit. He is fine. He is fine.

San bathed in the feeling for a second before Wooyoung coughed from all the scratchy ashes in the air. Right. They needed to get out.

“What’s happening?”, Wooyoung whispered as he looked around, his black hair sticking to his sweaty skin. The fire reflected in his grey eyes giving them an orange hue. The prince supported his body with his hands as he got on all four. San immediately reached out to help Wooyoung, trying to bring him to lay down again, but the prince was unstoppable. His legs were shaking so violently that San feared for him to fall any second. He secured an arm around Wooyoung’s stomach and waist to keep him close and upright.

Despite the invisible force pressing against his throat, Wooyoung walked a step and another out of the cover of the stairs to see the flames better that already danced up the walls in waves. The heat surrounding them was unbearable, sweat trickling down every inch of Wooyoung’s skin. He turned in San’s arms, taking in the appearance of his lover. He had been so out of it that he didn’t notice – but there was black blood sticking to San’s face.

Wooyoung reached up trying to access the injury. “San”, he breathed tonelessly as his throat was not capable of producing any sound. “…’re bleedi-“, a cough rattled through his body, pressing his face back down against San’s chest.

“Shhhh”, the warrior looked down the corridor with the eyes of an eagle. The fire had spread a lot already and he wondered how long it would take for them to put it out. Would they even be able to? Or would they just need to watch it burn down until it subsided itself?

But more importantly – San flexed his jaw – that bastard have better already burnt in those flames like the demon in front of heaven’s doors.

If they needed to escape, then going back to the royal’s chambers was a good idea. The crown prince’s chambers should have windows to the outer walls as far as he remembered. But going back there also meant a possible re-encounter with… him.

Not that San wasn’t ready to fight him until his limbs weren’t able to follow his commands anymore. However, he knew that as long as Wooyoung was with him – San posed no threat. He wouldn’t be able to concentrate on the fight if he feared for Wooyoung’s well-being the whole time.

Doing nothing but wait was no option though as the fire only swallowed more and more.

“We need to go”, San cracked through the silence. Just as the warrior took Woo’s hand to lead him back to the chambers, the prince tugged him back.

“San…”

Wooyoung looked pale. Paler than before. Instantly, San wrapped his arms back around him.

“I am dizzy. It’s too hot. I- you know that I’m-“

San’s breath caught in his throat. Of course… Wooyoung’s fragile immune system would react to any sort of heat, not only sunlight. He didn’t even waste another thought onto it.

“Hold on”, San spoke, wrapping Wooyoung’s arms around San’s neck.

“But-“

“I will be fine. We both will as soon as we are out of here. I promise.”

Wooyoung looked up to him with eyes filled of such fear that it left San breathless. “You know that I trust you.”

“I know”, San cracked a tired smile, “And I trust you too. So, promise me to hold on tight – and I promise to get us out.”

“I can… by mys-…”

San shook his head, lifting Wooyoung up in order to walk down the path they had come from, “No, darling, you can’t walk by yourself. Just focus on staying awake and don’t breathe in too much of that smoke. Concentrate on my heartbeat and sync it with yours, understood? The rest – leave to me. This one time… please trust me. I will protect you.” San turned his head to press a little kiss onto Wooyoung’s face, “I’ll get you out of here.”

“Us…”, Wooyoung coughed weakly.

San smiled, eyes empty, “Yes. Us.”

It felt like it was a run against the time. San watched tiredly how the first roof beam’s fell in crackling sounds. The ash and flames longed for it, like hungry lions waiting in a starving pit. San’s eyes burnt. They must have been deep red by now as he didn’t allow them to close. He felt jagged breaths against his neck every now and then before Wooyoung would end up coughing so violently that San thought he wouldn’t get in that air he needed anymore, pressing him closer. The way back seemed way shorter now than before, a sickening feeling spreading in San’s stomach.

Outside of the castle walls was so much noise, so many yells. San could only fathom in what state the royal family must have been. The queen on the ground panicked-stricken, the king holding Seonghwa back who would try to run back into a deathtrap of fire just to get Wooyoung out. He also imagined Yunho, trying to say that San was on the way over to him to get them both out, but with every passing minute those words must have felt like a heavy burden.

What if they didn’t make it out.

San left his gaze bewilderedly straight ahead, facing the southern lord at the very end of the hallway. He stood there calmly with a little smirk, knowing that San needed to get through here. There was no time to hurry for him, despite the rattling coughs erupting from his old body from time to time.

San’s heart had already been nothing but a constant thrum, while his features stayed so still. He put one foot in front of the other as he walked on.

He had thought about another escape route. The windows of the pigeon tower were too small, he would never get them both through it at the same time– no way San would tell Wooyoung to climb for himself with the horrendous bruises he had around his neck. He was happy if asking him to breathe by himself wasn’t enough of a hassle.

The other parts he had crossed had windows big enough to get through, but they all led to county-yards. He would just imprison himself more in a maze of flames, far away from any help.

From San’s memory he knew that Wooyoung’s window was looking outside to the entrance of the castle. To the main street where carriages halted.

San’s steps slowed down as he neared. The sparks around them flung in the air wildly. There were little burning sensations on his skin, making his eyes twitch as they got closer to his face.

His long jacket caught some of them too, the glow of ember making the fabric burn into black dust, slowly crawling higher. San felt the steady heat rose his back, felt it, like a warning as he came closer to the lord.

The marble halls of the royal family had luckily not the most furniture to burn, yet the windows were already broken, flames coming inside, flowing along the walls and ceilings.

Carefully, San put Wooyoung down, laying him onto the ashen floor. Wooyoung’s tearful eyes opened, ever so wide as San didn’t seem to just catch his breath. The warrior shook his shoulders, getting rid of the last bits of his jacket that had caught fire in his strive.

“-n?”, Wooyoung asked and it broke San’s heart. Wooyoung looked so… hurt. His lips were nothing like the cherry colour they used to. There was nothing of his peach-coloured cheeks, nothing of those onyx eyes left as fire and ashes had left nothing but a dull grey.

Wooyoung’s hand reached up, just to be caught by both of San who looked at his lover intently. Without another word, he pressed Wooyoung’s hand back to his chest, feeling the prince’s heart beat irregularly.

Wooyoung looked confused as San just stood up, seemingly to leave. But that confusion vanished as San redirected his gaze up ahead, expression getting grim.

“You better stay the fuck away from the prince.”

San adjusted his stance, blocking Wooyoung’s view as he made sure there was no way he would get to his Wooyoung. The growling conversation he had, made his mind scream at him to stop. To stop talking as the toxic smoke had already invaded all of his senses.

San knew that he was swaying. He knew that at times he started to see not only double but triple. He knew he was losing it. Yet there was no way the lord could have stayed unaffected by it. He knew that a fight would lead to someone’s death – there was not enough sanity to keep them both alive, not enough room to flee to.

San tried to swallow down the lump in his throat as he reached for his sword at his belt’s side. He tried again. And again, the scratching just making him cough. The sudden impact had made him topple forward with his upper body, sweat falling to the floor like sprawling blood.

“… scram”, San retched out, holding his throat with the other hand.

The lord huffed but it all went down in a cough too, nearly making him fold to his knees, “What… unkind words”, he managed to get out between coughs and gasps for air as the smoke most have scratched the walls of his throat open with every syllable, like San’s.

At this point San didn’t listen anymore though. His head was ringing. The scratchy pain in his throat forcing tears to his eyes. “Just… scram like…the peasant you are.” San used the words of the lord against him. If he had spoken them so legitimately to San, he deserved the same treatment. He didn’t care for right and wrongs.

“The prince has tainted my reputation with his carefree gestures, has made me a joke-“, coughing, “-of a lord amongst my… people.”

San lastly drew his sword, the tip of it dancing in trembling waves in the air. “The prince did you nothing wrong.”

The southern lord let out a bluffing sound, “I am merely a shell of a reminder…”, he drew his sword too. The blade was shorter than San’s what would give the lord great advantage in this situation though. The shorter the blade, the more control he’d have over it in such a dire situation. San would be in more reach, but what would him give that if his attacks and blocks were uncoordinated? Ineffective?

“Are you doubting yourself, son?”, San heard the distance voice of his father ghost around his mind. The fire and heat were starting to play tricks on his tired sanity.

His father had always preached that his training as a warrior would be worth it. He’d be able to protect what he loved. Would be able to save and defend. But just as his breaths got shorter with every second, the heat of the fire making him suffocate in his own body… San wondered, if it had really had that worth.

Right now, San felt like he was nothing more than that little Almond, chasing after the prince in the royal gardens, brave enough to tackle a bee if it came over but inwards quivering in fear. San knew he would always put his life on the lines for others.

A look over his shoulders and his eyes met instantly with Wooyoung’s red ones.

He knew he’d go anywhere for him.

San adjusted his gaze back to the southern lord who too had gathered his thoughts and posture for a fight.

Even in a battle that he knew he was going to lose.

San knew he was a great warrior, he knew he could win under the same conditions, but this fight was as unbalanced as it could be. A man who had nothing to lose fighting another who was about to lose it all. San gritted his teeth.

That guy didn’t come with a ticket to return. One way in, no way out.

“Royalty…”, the lord started again as he lifted the tip from San towards Wooyoung, making San go a menacing step to the side to cover his laying lover from the direction of the weapon. “… has taken their beings too far. You are not gods. Neither similar to them nor close.” His bloodshot eyes trailed back to San, skin turning grey at the prospect of how long he had been victim to the fire, “They have to pay, young warrior. Pay for the mistakes they made. Carelessly… on the price of the lives of others. I will start with him for my own satisfaction and if that is not appealing enough for the crown, I’ll go after his brother next.”

He started to walk towards San, making San swing his blade left and right as a sort of warning, but it didn’t have any purpose as he just stalked closer.

The warrior growled, “You are not in your right mind!”, he yelled, neck veiled in a ravishing fire by now. San coughed, looking to the side, seeing Wooyoung’s fearful glare one last time.

“…don’t fight…”, he whispered, a tear escaping. “-Sannie.”

Weak fingers gripped for the ends of San’s pants that were all dirty and black from all the rust. Some bits were bloodied as he must have hurt himself when he had broken in those stairs before. Yet he couldn’t care about any of it. Not the way his temple stung, his ear rang in pain, something constantly dripping down his naked chest. And it hurt San more than ever when he had to pull his leg from the prince’s grip.

He gave Wooyoung his best smile. “You do not have to worry, my angel.”

And although San knew that those words probably helped nothing, he still saw some sense of calm finding Wooyoung, even if it was just momentarily.

“You won’t be able to protect him”, the southern lord murmured, getting San’s last patience to snap.

“Silence!”, his voice boomed, throat already used to the feeling of breathing smoke. San wiped the sweat out of his eyes, pulling the sword ready. “You have talked enough. Done enough. And essentially, lived enough.” His warrior blood shone through, pulsing in his body like a sleeping cat of prey.

“Big words for a-“

San had enough, “Even bigger actions!”, San let the lord fall silent on his words. “I think you have been underestimating me, my dear lord.” His voice was cynical, challenging as if to mock the man in front of him. “I am Choi San.” San pulled his sword in front of his face, letting his hand slide over the blade. “I am the son of the warrior clan of the west.” His eyes glowed in the fire of the room, reflecting in powerful reds and determined oranges. “The strongest in all of Azalea.”

With a growl, San pushed his blade into the marble ground, smirking as it went through the hard stone like butter. A wild grin settled on San’s lips as he saw the short moment of hesitancy on the lord’s features.

San pulled the sword out again, done showcasing. He tumbled a bit, swaying in the toxin, sword tip pointing towards the invader.

“You have chosen the wrong enemy.”

Blades were flying. San’s senses were sharpened as he let his head and eyes wander in every direction. He parried a strike from the side with ease, pushing him off to set another blow right after. The lord dodged sideways, huffing as San’s sword graced the tip of his hair, that had unfolded in messy strands, the tips falling off.

They regained distance and a firm stance.

“You deserve quite more for that”, San said, pointing to his chapped ear. “And for that”, his temple. San’s eyes darkened, “And a life-long prison in hell for what you have done to Wooyoung.”

In all the blows that they had exchanged, San made sure to never let himself be turned, always keeping Wooyoung in his back. He was the last wall of protection for the prince. He knew if he didn’t manage to stand tall right now, nobody would anymore.

Wooyoung wouldn’t manage to do anything. If there was one thing San feared more than death, then it was watching Wooyoung be killed. Seeing it from that side, San didn’t fear unliving anymore. He would stand tall to the very last breath.

If Wooyoung was in his stead, despite San’s pleadings, Wooyoung would try the same. The outcome would be different, maybe… but the idea, the feelings and the love… would be the same.

Just as San set for another attack, a creaking sound made him look up. The ceiling was covered in flames, crumbs falling down like a sickening warning. His eyes went wide, jumping back. He slithered a bit on the smooth floor, losing his footing just as parts of the ceiling crashed down. San would have totally made the cut, but he preferred being on Wooyoung’s side of the room if the roof was starting to come down.

San hurried back to Wooyoung, who barely had his eyes open, not moving at all when San fell all over him, covering his body with his own. The fallen parts of the beams let a cloud of ash swirl up, making all three humans fall into coughing fits. A scream echoed through the halls, not letting down as the noise of the breaking building continued. San flexed his biceps as he tried to cower wider down, hiding Wooyoung better but the prince had his hands raised to his mouth nevertheless, coughing violently. He tried to hide in San, but it was no use and just as San had regained some of his breath to say something, Wooyoung’s eyes became wide and fearful.

His gaze slipped next to San’s head, “San!!”, the voice sounded so painful to him, so raw and overtaxed. San pulled a bit away, on all his four but not fast enough to look over his shoulder. What was it? The southern lord had yet to cross the fallen beams and stonework, if he even made it, there was no way-

A gasp fell from San’s lips. More than that he heard the sickening snap of his bones. A searing pain went through his shoulders and back as parts of brick and beams slowly slid from his body. San arched his back in pain, quivering as he was forced down. Without any control he landed on top of Wooyoung, who squeaked as good as his throat let him.

“San! San!”

San laid flat on Wooyoung’s chest, trying to regulate his breathing through the pain. Wooyoung fumbled in panic over his lover, trying to pull himself somewhat up to see what happened. It took some time, Wooyoung hated how much it all had weakened him, but when he finally sat straight, with San’s head resting in his lap, Wooyoung froze.

His whole shoulder blades were red, slightly bruised but what Wooyoung grew most concerned for was the slowly darkening spot on San’s side.

“San, are you-?”, Wooyoung wanted to ask but his throat didn’t let him, the bruises around his own neck leaving him a coughing and gasping mess until his eyes stung so much that the tears fell freely.

That seemed to get San out of his panic-stricken tunnel vision, pulling his elbows up to locate his hands next to his body.

“Stay!!”, Wooyoung screeched between his coughs, worried sick for San. He was injured, he was so, so injured. Wooyoung… Wooyoung sobbed. He couldn’t… couldn’t just take this anymore.

San panted heavily as he pushed himself to his knees. A little pained scream escaped him as he sat upright, hand immediately going up to his rips only to regret it right after with another groan.

“San, pl-!”, Wooyoung hyperventilated, be it from the coughing or the panic of San’s injuries.

The warrior couldn’t watch Wooyoung like that. He looked so frail in his white, thin clothes with ruching. His curly, sweaty hair, his pale skin dusted with ash as rouge. His lips were as purple as the marks around his neck – clearly showing the imprints of fingers and hands.

San breathed and breathed and breathed… he… his shoulders relaxed a bit, trying to cancel out the pain just for a second because… San still breathed.

He reached for Wooyoung, pressing the sobbing prince’s head into his naked chest. “Shhhh, shhh!”, he hushed, more aggressive than he ever did as he tried to comfort not only Wooyoung but himself too.

“No, you’re hurt. You’re-“

“Alive. And I’ll get us out of here. Shhhh, Wooyoung”, San took a hold of Wooyoung’s hand, forcing it against San’s rapidly moving ribcage. “I am breathing and so are you.” Wooyoung looked up at San, his eyes so swollen, San wasn’t sure if he was even able to see. “We will make it out alive, you hear me!” And just as San had said those words with an insane expression, the fire giving his sweaty skin orange shades, something between a smile and a plead on his contorted features, Wooyoung’s head started rolling, his eyes moving back. “We will both make it out, we…”

As if it toned out San’s words, the world seemed to stay still for him as Wooyoung lost consciousness, slipping to the side.

Falling.

San immediately reached out, feathering his fall with a hand against his cheek.

“Wooyoung…?” The voice was nothing but a whisper in the crackles of the fire. “Wooyoung?”

Wooyoung’s eyes were closed, his lips slightly apart. His hands that he had so frightfully pressed against his own chest, fell limply to the ground.

“Wooyoung?”

San kneeled, forgetting of the searing pain in his side. “Hey, Wooyoung, w- wake up.”

And that was when not only San’s body had snapped but when his last composure and hope did too. “WOOYOUNG!!”, he roared. It didn’t sound human anymore. More like a wild animal being robbed off its most important. Injured to death. Cornered. And all of those things…

… at once.

“WOOOOYOUNG!!!”, San screamed into the burning place, again and again until his throat revolted, making him cough until he felt like he’d throw up. He turned away as the pain started seeping into his brain again too, reminding him of the shit that he had to go through, throwing up the last reserves of food and water his body had held.

San hived. Eyes stinging as he held his hurting side. “Fuck”, he rasped, eyes freely running, “FUCK!” The scream was cushioned by the dense smog, as was the impact of his fist punching into the hard marble.

The warrior ruffed his hair, pulling as he looked at Wooyoung, gasping for air. Calm down, San. Calm down now and access the situation!

He was already leaning forward his fingers hovering around the abused, dark throat. How should he get a pulse? He didn’t want to touch the bruises. Even if Wooyoung may not felt the pain, he still… San retorted back to check for breathing but God there was none. San was pretty sure every shallow breathing would not even be recognised by him anyways, the way his body shook.

The speed of San’s heart was abnormal, and he feared that if he wouldn’t act fast, he would also collapse before out of the flames. But leaving Wooyoung in that state was making him panicked. Was he dead? Was he fighting? Did he need help? Was he just tired? And the worst of it all was that San just simply didn’t know. He was a warrior. He knew how to kill people, but ultimately not how to save them.

Well… it had worked once already…

San leaned forward, hands coming down next to Wooyoung’s head as he leaned to his lips. However, San stopped. His lips hovering above Wooyoung’s.

Foreign. That was what San thought as he tasted the metal mix on his tongue. The blatant iron mixed with whatever dust his saliva had gathered in the last hours. San let his tongue run over it, feeling the thick liquid fill his mouth.

San leaned back, unkissed. His look got distant, as his heart thrummed. San sweat profoundly as he got up somehow. He trembled; no, shook. One foot in front of another as he swayed like a drunk sailor on sea. The waves came crushing ever so roughly, hitting the bug. He felt how he got nauseous. How the fire ate his body away as he felt like drowning at the way his mouth filled.

On the way, he retrieved his sword, bending down just enough to get a grip on the hilt. A scarring sound invaded San’s body, as the tip of his weapon dragged over the marble flooring. It was like the indecent sound of his teachers getting their fingernails on the chalk board, reverberating forever in his head when he would think about it. Yet, San couldn’t be bothered.

His body felt numb as he reached the pile of burning rumble. His nose scrunched as he was met with the body laying beneath. How flames had devoured their meal, hungry for it all. Anything but the flames laid in deep shadows and San was sure that if it wasn’t for his numb state, he’d have at least felt something as he watched the bloodied hand reach out for him from under the rumble.

San’s eyes singled into the band of metal around his finger. As if it harboured the answers to all his questions.

A loud crack made San jump, looking back to Wooyoung hurriedly, just to see nothing but his lover laying there still, surrounded by growing fires.

He needed to be fast.

“… help.”

San’s nostrils flared up at the broken voice, but other than that his body didn’t move. He watched the hand shakingly stretch towards him. San blinked and lifted his right hand, the blade coming over his head before he put it in a stance to attack. The tip quivered. Another drop of sweat trickled down his temple mashed with blood.

So heavy.

Should he?

San thought that he’d know. That his blinding anger would be sufficient. That all the training would have been sufficient. He’d not only kill, but he’d also do him a favour.

This was non-reversable; San could put an end to the man’s suffering. But that would mean that he’d snap that blade fully conscious without any resistance nor fight into that man’s flesh.

San’s eyes spaced out, so much until he could see his own reflection in the ring. Could see how pale and grey his skin was, how damaged his body looked, how ugly his blood had been all over his sides.

His eyebrows pulled together. Was this… what Wooyoung had seen? The thing, that had Wooyoung promised to be safe and to get him out. And San knew he had no time for this, and he needed to make a decision.

His fingers tightened around the hilt and like a coward… San closed his eyes.

He had already grown accustomed to the sounds of the fire. His eyes were burning nonstop, cheeks full of tear tracks but San couldn’t care less. His sole focus was on the weight in his arms. The way Wooyoung felt cold even in the middle of this inferno. His head leaned against San’s chest, like he had a good sleep using him as a cushion.

San hoped it was a peaceful sleep. One full of dreams of them together, running around that hill in the high grass swaying in the wind. That San would be hunting after Wooyoung with the biggest of smiles as the prince let his hair and long skirt flow in the wind, arms spread.

“Will you catch me?”, Wooyoung said with a smile over his shoulder and San would do nothing rather. Just hold him forever.

San withstood the urge to swallow, lowering Wooyoung to his bed. It was still full of roses that had fallen from the porcelain vase. He made sure to avoid any shards as he laid the unmoving body down. The warrior rubbed his head at the pounding in his temple. His reality started to bleed into something surreal, something of the worlds of fantasy. He couldn’t afford to falter just yet.

As he turned to the neglected sheets, a sharp pain in his sides made him wince, toppling over and spluttering the blood out that had gathered in his mouth. He had tried so hard to not do that. Solely because he knew that his body and mind would go in an overdrive seeing the damage that he had taken. He heard his breath rattling as he watched the red drip from his teeth to the carpet in Wooyoung’s bedroom, that he had ruined now. San closed his eyes, trying to calm his breaths.

With a newfound indifference, he snatched the sheets, binding the ends together. He forced his body to stay calm, yet the trembling was fierce, and San needed more time for the knots than usual. While he followed the instructions that had been so inscribed into his mind, his eyes fell on the ring on his finger. The image of a woman. Of snakes. San grunted.

The window had somehow survived the fire. San didn’t know if he should be glad or not because it was yet another hurdle for them to get outside. He looked for anything to grab to break it in – a candlestick in the corner of the room proved to be the right choice as San turned his head away, shielding him from the glass splintering. With his foot he pushed the shards to the side to have a saver path when he walked back to the bed where Wooyoung slept.

Throwing the candlestick to the side, he went to cradle Wooyoung in his arms again, leaning down to get his arms beneath the prince’s body as carefully as possible. And just when San was all the way down, his face so close to Wooyoung’s, his tears fell freely onto his face. A little voice in San wished that it would make him wake. That he would make his lids flutter like the wings of butterflies as he opened his grey eyes to a summer rain.

It was nothing more than a grace of his lips when San kissed Wooyoung’s forehead. Yet, for him it was a promise to do everything for Wooyoung and a reminder that in the end… he had done everything possible.

Hadn’t he?

With Wooyoung tight in his arms he approached the broken window. The bed sheets that were already tightened together were bound to the window in double security. All it needed was for San to let the other end fall down so that they could escape.

“Isn’t it dangerous?”, San heard his young, way too young self, speak. What had they been? Maybe eleven?

A very tiny prince with very long hair was wrapped in a wide white night gown. It resembled more a dress than a pyjama, but San found Wooyoung beautiful in everything, it never mattered to him much what he wore.

“It’s not if you don’t look down!”, Wooyoung claimed, lifting a finger up in a scolding voice, as if he possessed all the knowledge and San was forever eager to listen. No matter if he told the truth or not. “The ivy is really robust. I saw the gardener fight with it, there’s no way it will rip.”

“I wouldn’t do it…”, San said, fingers fidgeting. It was normal for San to say ‘yes’ to Wooyoung but this didn’t feel right. A nervous feeling bubbled in his stomach. “I don’t want us to get hurt…”

“But we won’t”, Wooyoung rolled his eyes, stemming his hands into his hips as he longed for the window to open. “It’s not that high really.”

But it was. The royal chambers were the highest level of the main building. Only the attic and the pigeon tower being higher. San saw that Wooyoung realised that too. Heard that little “woah” when he opened the window and looked down.

San sighed, his tongue still tasting that blood in his mouth. Wistfully, he looked down to Wooyoung in his arms. “You’ve always been so fearless. Put in a body that was never meant to fight…”, San whispered against the crown of Wooyoung’s head, pressing his cheek against his hair.

“We can do it”, Wooyoung’s voice quivered, but still high and mighty as he held onto the window’s frame, one leg already bouncing outside. He grabbed for the ivy, testing its reliability before descending a bit. San didn’t do anything, just watch as his best friend slowly vanished behind the wall until only his eyes and nose were visible in the opening of the window. “Are you coming? We can sneak away, come.”

But San despite Wooyoung’s reassurance… was scared. He would never climb that. Even if Wooyoung would do so. Luckily Seonghwa had emerged just in that moment, dragging the little prince back inside for the scolding of his life.

San still stood at the window and thought if he would have not been the coward all along, that maybe they could have snuck away… Not just for the night. Maybe if San would have taken matters more into hand, that he and Wooyoung would have been happier. If he would have not been such a coward…

The smell of ash brought him back, eyes glimmering with something akin to guilt- This was not about if San would climb a wall, if he would fight a lion or a gruesome soldier. It was about San doing whatever was asked of him until he had hurt them both in the process. Until his own heart was too scared of the pain, so he shunned those feelings and ideas away. Locked his wants into a cage and gave Wooyoung unbeknownst the key. For that he would never find what he didn’t know he had in the first place. But after he got here for a wedding, after he had unsuccessfully been swooned by Wooyoung once again – Wooyoung had found the key all on his own.

Perhaps he had even made a new one… If it was Wooyoung… there was not only one key. No… he owned them all.

With his foot, San kicked off the end of the hand-made rope until it stopped in a stretch. San adjusted Wooyoung, laying his body over his shoulder a bit, so he could sling his arm around.

The cold air of the night hit San like the cold refreshment of a pond on hot days of August. He looked down, just for a second, gripping Wooyoung tighter as he pulled his weight back inside.

It was dizzyingly high.

San let his eyes wander to the side where the ivy grew. It was still there, fighting in the dense smoke. He admitted that he had taken way too long to take the leap. But instead of the ivy… today… San took the rope, leaning forward until gravity did the rest. He turned midair to get his legs onto the brickwork of the castle. The first impact made him gawk, his ribs feeling as if they had broken once more. His eyes squeezed shut, grip around his lover and the rope relentlessly.

He’d rather lose his life than let go.

His legs were tired. His arms were too. Just half the way down, San felt the fatigue. Felt how his muscles burned, and his body begged him to stop. The descend was far slower than he had predicted, the pain shooting through his body with every new angle that it acquired.

And just as San was to give it all up eventually, he heard the first voices. Voices he knew. They were calling him. Calling Wooyoung too. They were speaking with him. Telling him to just get down a bit more, that he had made it soon. Or maybe San only wanted to hear those, and they had said nothing alike.

In the end San still found the ground. It felt weird… being able to breathe without tons of smoke in his direct personal bubble. Yet, he didn’t quite feel as if he was safe yet.

San pulled Wooyoung back into a princess carry, letting go of the rope to walk towards a mass of people. Some of them looked hesitant others were already dashing their way. He should have been relieved. Should have cried of joy. He made it. He brought both of them out.

San’s steps got slurred, barely lifting his legs. He decided that this was enough, falling to his knees so he could lower him down. The marks on Wooyoung’s neck were still taunting him. Poisoning him with guilt that he was not there to stop it. He knew that there was no way that he could have known and yet he wished that he would have pulled through with his selfish wish to see his lover at the night of the wedding just once more. Maybe things would have gone differently.

“San”, an urgent voice said. If not mistaken, it must have been Seonghwa. He felt a hand on his back. Then he saw another on Wooyoung’s head. “Wooyoung… baby?”

But now that San had brought Wooyoung into safety…

The piercing pain in his side got unbearable, turning to the side to get rid of the new blood in his mouth.

“Lord San!”

San heaved. It was way more than before, dripping from his chin as he supported his weight on his arms. He felt a hand on his back, the other laid in the grass next to San’s. It was the headguard. It was Junhyo. San knew that without looking. Just the ring on his finger was enough for San to know. Because he remembered now, why that ring on his own finger seemed so fucking familiar.

“Wooyoung, w-wake up. Oh my god, what are those. Oh m-my god…”, San heard Seonghwa sob, having already missed the call for the physician as his mind was occupied.

“What happened?!”, the king’s frantic voice boomed, “Who did this to him?! Who did this to you!?”

San felt his consciousness slip. He had so much to say but he felt that he couldn’t. He should hold that right as he saw his vision sizzle down in black spots. He looked to Wooyoung a last time, not liking the way nothing about the prince’s condition had changed. Then he looked to Seonghwa, catching his gaze in a meaningful stare.

With the last strength he had, he lifted his shaking finger and pointed towards Junhyo without saying a word. Traitor. The guard’s eyes widened at the other end of the accusation, when San’s world blackened, head falling into the grass. It felt so cool on his burning skin. Like that little breeze that made their hair fly on the hill; high grass swallowing their legs up to their knees.

“I brought you here, so nobody could find you. So, nobody can take you away.”

“Nobody ever will. I will always be yours.”

His hands fell to the side. There was another one. A familiar one. He grabbed it – making the darkness just a bight brighter: grey. The colour of onyx and Wooyoung’s eyes.

Chapter Text

A dreamlike state. Wooyoung always felt like it was different. That things looked different when he was with San. That something in the way he perceived things had shifted when he encountered the boy between the almond petals for the first time.

He thought San was a once in a lifetime.

“Oh… so you two already made acquaintances?”

The king’s voice echoed through the marble floors of the throne hall. There was a light undertone to it, a chuckle as Wooyoung gripped the fabric of his pants’ leg tighter. He hid until only one eye was able to look around to the arrival of the new people.

He linked his gaze with the boy with such pretty brown eyes and short hair. Smooth skin and a stoic empty expression unless he would crack into that heartwarming smile. Meeting San was truly something Wooyoung would only experience once in a lifetime. Meeting him for a first time in their gardens – nothing in his life would rival the moment San had peaked from behind those trees, his gentle hands on the prince’s hair.

Young Wooyoung pouted up to his father, pulling on his leg, “He was in the garden and wouldn’t stop putting flowers in my hair.” The whine made the adults chuckle but what got Wooyoung to look back to the visitors was San’s light smile. Like the sun coming from behind the mountains, lighting up Wooyoung’s life – his eyes sparkled.

In San’s person laid so many promises that Wooyoung couldn’t grasp at the age of seven. Couldn’t understand that sometimes people were meant to meet. Were destined to be and remain.

The queen had a fan in front of her face to cover her laughing lips, “Oh, did you now?”, she asked the shy boy.

San fidgeted before looking to his own mother to seek for approval to speak up. The gorgeous woman patted San’s hair and nodded. San looked back to Wooyoung, making the prince hide more behind his father before the boy spoke up to his mother again.

“You told me to give pretty flowers to pretty people.”

The woman laughed, “Oh sweetheart, maybe not like that.” There was no animosity. Nobody was angry at what San did. And San also saw no fault in what he had done, so he had been right after all.

Prince Wooyoung deserved the world’s prettiest flowers as he was someone of unmatchable beauty. For San there was no other explanation. Nothing that would change this poor boy’s view. For years without end San would close his eyes and see the prince’s hair sail in a breeze full of early spring blossoms.

He had been affected by Wooyoung – his world turning upside down until he’d dedicate his entire calculation of time after their encounter. San’s first spring.

It started that day. All of it until the bitterest of end.

The boys had smiled at each other timidly as the adults talked. What was supposed to be a weekend-long stay felt like eternity as Wooyoung finally had someone who wasn’t his servant to play with. San’s gentle yet strong manners enchanted Wooyoung. His world blossomed in all the colours that he had grown blind to seeing when San made him laugh.

And he made him laugh a lot.

More than that. Wooyoung laughed until he cried. He wouldn’t acknowledge as the hours passed, Sunday coming in full view.

However, their short-cut end of their time never arrived that day as their parents proposed to them what was the original idea behind their visit.

“You want me to stay?”, San asked his father in surprise.

The warrior nodded, crouching down to be able to lay his hands on San’s shoulders. “Only if you want to. We are friends with the Park family and you’d be able to receive the best education there is alongside the second prince. The distance between here and our village would be great though. Visits would fall low – you are always permitted to come back again if you do not like it. We love you and want the best.”

Young San didn’t know about the struggles in the west at that time. That fights may stir up any time now and his parents wanted their son to be safe. San didn’t know and yet he felt that he’d do it. If the voice of his own heart was not enough so was Wooyoung who was eagerly awaiting San’s answer.

The warrior’s son’s face lit up, dimples showing, “I’d love to.”

“Really?!”, Wooyoung squealed making everyone look at the prince in surprise as he ran over, jumping onto San for a hug. San hugged him back with the same force, and they melted into each other’s bodies. Nothing would separate them; they thought as they laughed into each other’s embrace. As the carefree children they were – nothing could hurt them. Not today, nor the next seven years to come.

If only they had known that their happiness would have an expiration date.

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Sir Kang was anything but happy with them. It was one of those boring weekdays, Wooyoung stole a glance to San who was already sitting considerably far away for the little room. Wooyoung and San were anything but good students, not paying attention as each other always proved to be of more interest.

The sun shone through the dirty window, making the light appear milky. Dust glowed in the sunrays, looking like glitter around San’s flashing complexion as he gave Wooyoung a cheeky smile back.

Just as Instructor Kang – Yeosang’s father and their dance teacher – turned towards the chalkboard for another formula, San got a bit out of his chair to throw Wooyoung a little note.

Wooyoung snickered quietly as the note landed in his hands. Swiftly, Wooyoung hid it in his lap as their teacher turned, looking at him wide-eyed, pretending to listen. If he was lucky he might know what subject he was teaching right now. He hoped he wouldn’t ask him any questions.

After some boring explanations he turned again, making Wooyoung quickly open the note.

‘How does Yeosang survive him?’, the note said, making Wooyoung grunt a bit too loud, causing Instructor Kang to look over his shoulder. Wooyoung let the little note disappear in the wide sleeve of his shirt, pretending as if he was looking into the opened book in front of him. He felt the eyes of the teacher burn into him but pretended to give it no mind.

Wooyoung bit his lip to not smile as he reached for a pen, checking if he was safe before he wrote onto the note right beneath San’s ugly handwriting. Kang always complained about it and scolded San for it. He could barely read it. He said that Wooyoung could decipher it was bordering a miracle. But for Wooyoung it just felt like his own little code with San. Nobody would be able to read his words to him. Even if that was not true and San just had a dreadful scrawl, Wooyoung liked to make his life special like that.

Wooyoung waited for Instructor Kang to turn again before throwing the paper towards San. The warrior already opened his hands and formed a little bowl to catch it, but the paper had way too less momentum and fell a foot in front of San. The warrior scrambled to get it with his feet, looking stupid while doing it, tongue out in concentration.

His tip reached it, but in his attempts, he just pushed it further away.

“Shoot”, he said quietly, Wooyoung was getting nervous at the prospect of Kang turning around and finding it. But then San did something Wooyoung had not expected.

The warrior looked to Wooyoung and then to the teacher and then back to Wooyoung before he cracked a mischievous smile. He got out of his chair and crouched to the floor, silently laying himself on his stomach.

Wooyoung clasped both his hands over his mouth to not just cackle out loud while San robbed over the floor to get to the piece of paper. His face must have been deep red by the time San stretched out his arm to get the note, thinking he was oh-so-sneaky, when just as his fingers graced the paper, a leather shoe pushed down his hand.

“Choi San”, Instructor Kang scolded and that was when it was over with Wooyoung. The laughter that he had forbid himself to let free fell open, sounding in the little room way to loud as he yapped for air.

And although their teacher was scolding San and telling him that his behaviour is inacceptable and that this would get him extra homework, San only looked at Wooyoung with a dumbfounded grin.

So worth it.

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Making Wooyoung smile proved to be one of San’s favourite activities. But just as much as San made Wooyoung happy, Wooyoung happened to be San’s favourite person in the entire world. They just clicked – to everyone’s disadvantage.

They were a team, partners in crime if you wish to call it like that. San had been here for some time, their third spring approached in fast steps when San ran after prince Wooyoung through the little floors of the servant’s track.

“Are you sure we are allowed to be here?”, San asked again a bit nervous as he had never been here.

“It’s going to be just fine. Stop worrying”, Wooyoung yelled back, making San duck his head as he was too loud. Yet, he fully trusted him. “It should be here.”

Wooyoung opened one day after another, swiftly looking in before going to the next to open it. San always stood behind him, looking over the prince’s shoulder on his tip toes. Wooyoung had quite a growth spurt making him make fun of San just a bit. Never enough to hurt him, but it definitely hurt his pride that the little boy with the silky black long hair and his soft features grew over San. But his time would come. It would surely come.

“Oh my god, here is it!”, Wooyoung said making San scrunch his nose as he yelled into his ears. The boy ripped open a door, looking left and right before taking San’s hand and leading him along the hallway. They were somewhere deep down in the tract with the weaponry. They were prohibited to be here and yet both of them were so eager to see.

They crossed one window after the other, big and thick snowflakes piled on the outside, sometimes covering the windowpane halfway. Wooyoung fidgeted with the keyring in his hands as they found the door. The prince’s jittery fingers found the right one, clicking the old wooden door open.

Both boys looked at each other.

With a creak Wooyoung pushed it open, revealing a dark and stuffy place. He pulled San in before carefully closing it until they were enveloped in darkness. Only one little window was trying to give light, but the thick snow made it almost completely dark.

It was still good enough to make them see something in the shades of grey.

“Wow, look at that”, Wooyoung breathed as he walked in front of a mannequin with a full-on iron armour. San stepped next to him, eyes sparkling as he looked at all the heavy armouries. He reached out, feeling the smooth and cold surface, rusted a bit on the edges.

San had seen such things sometimes at home but mainly only in books and tales. There was no reason to wear such heavy armour in his tribe. The Choi clan was infamous for being swift and strong and not in need of tons of metal protecting their skin and making them immobile.

Yet, something about it made San’s heart skip a beat.

“San, look!”, Wooyoung yelled again, all enthusiastically. Just as San turned, he was met with the glistening tip of a weapon.

San swallowed as Wooyoung pulled the sword tip away from San.

“Isn’t that so cool!”, the prince said, holding the sword with both hands, “Here hold!”

San clumsily took the hilt from Wooyoung, making cute sounds as it proved to be far heavier than he thought. The tip dipped to the ground as San held it with both his hands.

“Why is that so much heavier than what we train with?”, the young warrior complained as he tried to lift it and swung a bit.

“Right?! They should prepare us for real battle. You don’t even know how often I complained to Seonghwa and dad. I am pretty sure Seonghwa was allowed to hold a real sword by this age.”

“They are probably just scared that we’d hurt each other”, San sighed as he tried to drag the sword back to the wall that held some of them and put it back.

“But we would be careful”, San heard the pout in Wooyoung’s voice making him grin.

“You think? Haven’t we managed to get you a scratch on your cheek just last week with the wooden swords?”

Wooyoung grunted, “Says the one who got his pinkie broken by me last month.”

“Hey, you attacked me when I was tying my laces.”

“And you were unfair striking at me when I was trying to make a ponytail when my hair was in the way.”, Wooyoung scoffed, taking a helmet from the wall before positioning himself in front of a mirror. He took his long raven hair between his fingers, twisting the strands. “Maybe I should cut it after all.”

“No!”, San exclaimed a bit too loud and too urgent, making their eyes meet in the mirror. Both of them shocked about San’s outburst, going from their sarcastic nature towards a serious exchange of glances. San approached from behind, taking the helmet out of Wooyoung’s hands. “Why would a pretty swan prune its feathers?”, San gently pushed Wooyoung’s long hair behind his ears before pulling the helmet over Wooyoung’s head.

Just in time as Wooyoung’s face lit aflame, burning red in the dark shadows of the cap. He startled as San got closer to his covered face, looking through the opening that had been there for the eyes.

“Can you even see something through that?”, San asked as he tried to close one eye and focus solely on one of them, squinting through the slits from outside.

Being surrounded by the darkness of the helmet like that made Wooyoung hold his breath as San kept coming closer. He must have not even realised how close he had come, that Wooyoung was able to see the specks of gold and green; of the colour of deer’s fur and hazel glimmer resonate in San’s eyes. The way Wooyoung’s mind got so occupied by the thought alone.

You are so pretty.

Although San told Wooyoung so often; said how his hair made him look like an angel and his clothes make him appear like he was sent from heaven. He always thought that those were pleasantries for the royal blood since Wooyoung got complimented often.

But this was the first time that Wooyoung wanted to be the one giving San a compliment.

San scoffed as Wooyoung stayed quiet. “Hey, what’s up? Why aren’t you talking?”, he asked with a frown, pulling the helmet just high enough so Wooyoung’s face was revealed to his forehead. San halted, freezing as he saw how red Wooyoung had turned beneath.

Was it that hot beneath it? Stuffy? Was he about to choke? What was the-

“You look pretty.”

San’s entire body tensed, pushing the helmet back again fully on Wooyoung’s head, making the prince go ‘ouch’ timidly, reaching for his head.

“Don’t say such stupid things”, San said, turning away because of the way his cheeks burnt, totally liking to hear those things out of Wooyoung’s mouth. But he was a warrior, he shouldn’t like such a compliment this much, no?

Wooyoung’s cute giggles got San to turn again, with folded arms and still red dusted on his cheeks. “What is so funny?”, he sulked, making Wooyoung’s happy sounds just get louder.

The prince pulled the helmet off, revealing his wide and toothy smile, “You are just too cute when you get shy, Sannie.”

San didn’t want to but couldn’t help when his lips drew in a smile. He averted his gaze, thoughts still with the prince’s words though.

“Now let’s dress up as a knight and scare the servants!”, Wooyoung suggested, already getting down the pieces of the heavy armoury.

“Wooyoung, wait-“, San wanted to interfere but the adrenaline of the idea pushed through his body and mind, rushing after the prince with a little chuckle as they helped each other into the iron gear to give the servants the scare of their life as well as headguard Junhyo a hard time explaining to the royal couple how two 10 year olds managed to stealth around him into the weaponry.

Wooyoung and San got grounded to their rooms, but they had long found a way to talk even when confined to their rooms, rolling little paper notes over the flat masonry in front of their windows. Most of them never made their destination but as long as both boys were giggling about it, and the gardener would curse them whenever he had to clean the masses of paper ending up in the yard… as long as it was like that… they were alright.

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The air was all warm in rays of the sun. Wooyoung’s horse huffed as it was tired of Wooyoung’s pets. The prince scoffed and held another apple up for the animal to take.

“Now come around. Right here”, Wooyoung’s father said as he stepped up next to Wooyoung, waving for San who rode his horse. The warrior looked still a bit unsteady on the gigantic animal but there was also a big smile on his face.

“Wooyoung, look!”, he exclaimed all excitedly, making Wooyoung giggle. San looked so happy in their horse-riding lessons.

“You are doing exceptionally well, San”, Wooyoung’s father praised him, giving San’s cheeks a little blush.

“Thank you”, he nodded as he hugged the horse’s hair, petting its mane. “And thank you too.” The horse stomped with its feet at San’s declaration.

Wooyoung looked up at San, shielding his eyes from the San. He pulled his eyebrows together as his mind started to imagine how San – all grown up – would look on a horse. How would he handle himself? Maybe riding into battle even? Would he ever grow over Wooyoung’s head again? Would he gain muscles? Would he age up well?

“-youngie?”

As if he just woke up from a dream, Wooyoung startled, blinking the fog of imagination away as he stared widely at the hand that was stretched his way.

“Let’s ride together?”, San offered, the widest smile on his face. His crescent shaped happy eyes had always rivalled the sun – yet Wooyoung felt like the positive energy around San touched him for the first time, warming him from inside out. Sometimes Wooyoung wondered what he would do day in and out if San wasn’t here. He was his everything after all. The person he sought out the second he woke up and the person he wished to see last before he would blow out the candles to go into a nightly slumber.

He was his best friend. He was his person.

Wooyoung grabbed for his horse’s bridle, swinging himself up into the white horse’s saddle.

“Oh”, San looked taken aback, “I thought like… together”, San patted the horse’s back behind him.

Wooyoung giggled, “But where is the fun? I wanna race! Come on, Sannie!” He gave his horse a little touch with his heels to keep it going, laughing as San startled, struggling to come after the young prince.

“Not too far, Wooyoung!”, his father called after them, but his voice was nearly completely drawn out by Wooyoung’s and San’s laughter as they hunted after each other, dashing ahead through the pastel fields of late spring. Ladybugs conquered the air as the hooves woke up the high blades of grass. They left the paths of dirt, lawns full of flowers and singing bugs.

Wooyoung looked back to San, holding his breath as he saw the intense stare the warrior son had on him already. He didn’t really seem to mind that Wooyoung had him caught staring, his smug smile just growing wider.

Wooyoung kept turned around while riding, his heart beating so loudly in his chest for whatever reason as he looked at the way the sun made San’s skin sparkle in a warm olive hue. He watched the way one side of his cheek drew the smile higher, carving one of his dimples. His black hair had grown just a bit longer since he had arrived years ago at the royal palace, floating in the wind of the horse’s speed. It swayed in little flaps and waves, caressing the nape of his nap.

The moment seemed to grow endless as it started to feel familiar to Wooyoung. Not the moment really – but the emotion that started to bubble up in the pits of his stomach.

Since when had San became that handsome…

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It was one of those first warm days. The snow melted in the sun as the prince clad in a fluffy cape walked outside the castle. He breathed in the fresh air, so different from the biting cold and the suffocating heat in summer. He held his long hair back when the wind came up, smiling as the breeze brought snowfall of petals on him.

“Are you sure you wanna study outside?”

Wooyoung turned towards San with stemmed in hands, “Well, rather here than in that stuffy room where a mouse was sighted lately.”

San laughed and it somehow sounded deeper than usual, “You have a point, I guess. Let’s go.”

They had grown so comfortable over the years. San had always been shy around Wooyoung, following him on the heels and doing whatever Wooyoung did. But nowadays, San had a mind of his own. Not in a negative way – no – Wooyoung enjoyed that he didn’t need to have the last word anymore. San was so used to Wooyoung that they were just themselves around each other in a way they couldn’t be with anyone else. They grew so accustomed to each other that neither of them could think of the life before they met, nor of a life where they were separated.

San strode forward, looking for a bench that was not covered in snow. It was pretty futile, given that just two days ago a horrendous storm had haunted Azalea. Wooyoung remembered so vividly how he and San were huddled under one and the same blanket next to the fireplace, looking outside the window to gasp whenever the wind turned and made the white flakes go in incredible speed.

Wooyoung woke up from his little daydream when San suddenly took off his coat and laid it on top of the wet patch of the wooden bank.

“Ah, you shouldn’t do that”, Wooyoung said timidly when it was already too late.

San shook his head, offering him the spot without further ado, “It’s nothing. Today’s warm anyways.” And as if nature wanted to support his words, the sun shone through the clouds, veiling everything in a soft light.

They studied together nearly every day. Although they were quite out of their childish phase with their 13 years, they were still not too fond of classes. Life at the royal palace had just so much more to offer and even if it was a quiet day where neither San nor Wooyoung had any ideas, they loved to just lay silently next to each other, sometimes talking, often not.

The sound of turning pages and occasional questions sounded through the royal gardens. Patrolling guards, smiled their way, watching them a bit before strolling off again. Seeing the two young boys grow up was a pleasure in itself.

San sighed, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t understand the metrical whatever-it-was and he was sure Wooyoung did. “Woo, do you-“

“Hm?”

When San looked up, he was caught in a picture for all eternity. The prince in his glittering clothes, sitting on the bench, hunched over a book. Petals of white and pink had gathered in his hair and on his lap. The sun danced through the branches above them, creating glowing patterns on his skin.

“What is it?”, Wooyoung asked, laying his head steep.

San’s throat felt so dry all of a sudden. The way he looked like the spring goddess in all those tales. San was not sure if he should say what was on his mind, but he never hesitated when it was about Wooyoung.

“I like the way the peach petals look on you”, San said but couldn’t help the blush on his face as it sounded like a compliment.

Wooyoung must have felt the same as his face also reddened. “Oh, thank you. How do you know that it’s peach though?”, the prince picked one out of his hair, twisting it between his fingers, investigating.

That was an easy question for San. One that made him smile like an idiot because it was the base of all his dreams and fairytale illusions of his childhood.

“The peach trees blooms after the almond trees. I know because I had to find out what trees were in full blossom when I met you for our first time since it was our f-“

“First spring”, Wooyoung completed with a soft smile, long over fighting San about the term. “It’s quite funny”, the prince lowered his head, looking at the pink hue in his hand, “My life was so empty without you before. There was nothing to do here, nobody was my age really and Yeosang is more responsible for me than here to play. It feels like with your arrival I myself have finally found my blossom. As if the almonds have awakened my peaches.”

When Wooyoung looked up to steal a glance at San, he was surprised to see the utterly red state of San, cracking the prince in a loud laughter.

“What is it? Why are you that red?”

San shook his head, “Nothing”, he said timidly and with his lips pursed into a pout, looking away.

Wooyoung grinned, “Oh, do you like that?” He leaned closer, supporting his weight on his hand, almost touching San’s that was also situated on the bench. He leaned so incredibly close into San’s face that the warrior son had to duck his head. “A nickname? Almonds? My almond?”

“Stop that”, San said, feeling like his face lit up in a fever, ears burning.

“But you like it.”

And yes, San did. But the thing about it was that San didn’t like it – he loved it. And the concept of love was so foreign to his 13 years that he couldn’t put a finger on the weird feeling contracting his throat.

Since San didn’t seem to get comfortable again, Wooyoung leaned away, deeming that he probably went to far. He looked back into his book, trying not to think about whether he had hurt San’s feelings or made him too uncomfortable.

“Peaches.”

Wooyoung’s heart skipped a beat. When he looked back to San, his head was turned towards the branches above their heads, watching the petals fall.

“What?”

San let his head fall to the side, giving Wooyoung a side glance. The stare was somehow different, somehow like Wooyoung was the only person – the only thing in the whole universe – that San was able to see. As if there was nothing existing outside them. And this feeling of ‘them’ started to feel better with every new sunrise.

“If I am your Almond, you are my Peaches.” San stretched out his hand towards the sky, catching a falling petal out of the wind’s grasp. “You are just as pretty, and I would love to always sturdy your path to make way for you to shine. A pillar of support and yet a part of you.”

Wooyoung didn’t have anything to say, just looking at San like that. He smiled to himself, leaving it uncommented as he went back to reading the textbook. San didn’t go back to studying anymore that afternoon, silently catching petals from the sky and collecting them on the bench in the little spot that was free between their bodies.

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“Wooyoung this, Wooyoung that”, the prince sighed, letting himself fall into the chair at the side. The cabin was not as glamorous as the things he was used too but if he dared to say – it was quite cozy.

“You should watch the steps for the sonata, it is when everyone’s eyes will be on you-“

“I know!”, Wooyoung exclaimed into Yeosang’s face, a bit too loud for his liking, pulling back into the chair, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly, “I know.”

“Am I interrupting?”, a voice came from outside, making Wooyoung shriek. Unconsciously, he did a glance to the mirror on the side. The white pearls were embedded in braids in his hair, a silver crown on his head. His upper body was in a white blouse, puff sleeve of twice his biceps size, there was a cloth in gold wrapped around his waist, separating his upper body from the high-waisted white pants. It was a perfect outfit for the moon festival, about to glow in celestial white when they danced beyond the skylight’s might.

“Not at all”, Wooyoung said as Yeosang rolled his eyes at the way the prince checked his appearance before he asked San to enter.

The door creaked open, revealing a 14-year-old San, looking quite annoyed and tired, feelings Wooyoung could only mirror. His hair was styled back, only some strands falling into his eyes. The sharpness of his jawline suddenly protruded that way, making him look way older than he was. His dark eyes looked outside if anyone was catching him entering the cabin before he closed it.

Wooyoung swallowed as he saw the dark blue suit on him, glittering as if not Wooyoung was the prince but San. They had prepared tons of girls and boys educated in dance for Wooyoung to choose from. Since he was a good dancer, it was expected that he’d lead the dance of the moon festival at least once. He had always been too young to do it, only doing side acts, but now they thought he could do it. But against everyone’s expectations Wooyoung couldn’t dance with any of the chosen partners. Whenever he tried, he’d trip, he’d not look the way he always looked… when he danced with San.

In a rush of a decision the king made San try the dance with Wooyoung. Although San was hesitant, the king pleaded to just try once, and it was as if everything had fallen into place.

That’s how they came to be here. How San and Wooyoung were about to lose their sanity as they looked at each other with wide eyes. They knew they would both look incredible for the festivity, but reality always hit more than the dreams they always bathed in.

“Wow they really made you into a moon goddess”, San breathed with a little smile at the end.

“Well, thank you, dear celestial prince”, Wooyoung folded his arms in the front, rolling his eyes to distract from the blush on his cheeks.

“I am also here”, Yeosang bluffed, making Wooyoung snort.

“And now you go”, he said and Yeosang gave him a tired smile but followed orders. He was used to giving them their space, especially because he couldn’t stand being with them anyways for too long. Too many weird compliments and silent staring.

As soon as Yeosang was out of the cabin, San leaned his head on Wooyoung’s shoulder.

“Uh?”, Wooyoung did a little noise, hands hovering in the air as he didn’t know what to do.

“Can you hold me?”

The heat rose to the tips of Wooyoung’s ears. His fingertips sparked in anticipation as he laid his arms around San.

“Are you alright?”, Wooyoung asked, melting into the hug.

San nodded against his shoulder, but he knew that he was quite far from it. “Nervous? Tired? All of it”, the warrior son admitted with a sigh, straightening up. “Do you think we will do well?”

Did he think that they would do well?

Wooyoung never had the most trust in himself. He knew he could dance. He knew he could showcase himself with the wanted manners, but it was just so familiar to mess up something as important as tonight.

San relied on Wooyoung’s words. He knew if he told him that they would do well they would. So Wooyoung did. Like he always did.

The stars were so bright this evening. The full moon was making the night appear like day, lightening up the dark shadows until there was only silver light left. Everyone had come in their finest clothes, sitting to watch the midnight performances and just as San and Wooyoung entered for their pair dance, the applause ever growing, San took a hold of Wooyoung’s hand.

It was his sign of support, because he knew that the adrenaline most shoot through his body right now. That his sweaty palms meant that he was about to flee. And when Wooyoung looked to San he looked kinda the same. If he wasn’t grounding himself through the touch, he’d make a run for it.

The violins played a slow melody as they entered the dance field as the rest of the dancers left.

San spun Wooyoung around into his chest, a bit more forcefully than he was meant to.

“San?”, Wooyoung asked quietly as he caught himself on his chest.

San’s eyes were on Wooyoung and Wooyoung only, “I wish to dance with you, Peaches.”

Wooyoung got flustered, “W-well, we are about to do that, aren’t we?” They got into position, taking the first slow steps together.

San shook his head slightly, “You don’t understand.”

The choreography made them separate a bit, stretching out their hands in a desire to meet again. Separating from San? The idea seemed so odd, but maybe that was why Wooyoung was able to pull off that part so powerful, so full of emotions on his face’s display. If he was ever separated from San – what would the pain be like?

He had spent his life with San. It was not even a lie. Wooyoung hugged his own shoulders, his body folding in himself before he went into an elegant spin. The belt around his waist floated with the movement, twirling in circles around the prince, before a steading hand appeared on his back, making the prince lean into it. His weight laid in the boy’s palm completely, trusting him to the fullest as he lost his own footing, only in San’s arms.

When Wooyoung looked up to San’s face, he gasped at the way San looked at him. There was something about the way San’s eyes were slightly unfocused, definitely lower than Wooyoung’s eyes. Where was he looking at? San pulled Wooyoung up and against his chest.

“I wanna dance with you, Peaches…”, San breathed in just a whisper as he guided their hand’s palms together. Their gazes kept intertwined, not losing eye contact as their hands pressed together between them, slowly going up over their heads towards the moon. “… until the ends of time.”

Wooyoung’s gaze fluttered to the ground for a second before meeting San again. Their hands were still so far in the air, nothing to hide from San’s intense stare.

For the split of a second, San didn’t look like a 14-year-old boy. He looked like a young adult dancing with him at some ball. Looked like a warrior and protector. Like a lover and home.

The music ended and the lights dropped while the audience exploded in applause. San and Wooyoung slowly took their hands down. They kept their fingers intertwined as they smiled at each other.

Wooyoung would never forget how his jacket had sparkled like stars. How his promise reverberated in his head tuning out the clapping of the people. The moon shone so brightly and whenever it did, Wooyoung thought about their dance. Thought about San’s words. And was painfully reminded…

That San had to leave.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

He heard water. Feet digging in the surface, splashing around. The buzz of some bug annoying him as he opened his eyes. He squinted against the harsh light of the sun. His arms had slowly fallen asleep behind his head, laying on them like a pillow because the nose-piece’s wood was anything but comfortable. It was covered in moist moss and other plants but still the surface was so unforgiving.

“Sannie?”, the sun was suddenly covered by a face hovering above him. “I made you a flower crown too”, Wooyoung held a circle between them, the outskirts of the white daisies glowing.

The prince’s long hair was in a messy updo, strands laying everywhere from their secret mission to sneak away when they were grounded. Flowers adorned his head, dandelions and poppies.

San sat up, shaking his head to get the drowsiness away. The prince didn’t waste any time and put the flowers on San’s head.

“Cute”, Wooyoung voiced, laughing as his comment got him a slight jab from San. “Do you think they will notice that we left again?” the prince asked, sitting down at the edge. He struggled with the laces of his simple shoes for a second before slipping his big toes in the green waters. After adjusting for a few seconds, he dared to put his feet in, holding up the legs of his pants so they wouldn’t get dirty.

San shrugged, following Wooyoung suit. “As long as they don’t find and block our route out, they can tell us whatever they want”, San scooted closer to Wooyoung, putting his legs into the water too. “They can’t ground us anyways – you always have somewhere to be.”

Wooyoung sulked, “Hey, I always have time for you.”

San grinned, “Ah, that’s not it.” His toe reached towards the flowers of the lily pads, trying to touch them. “I just wonder what they try to achieve in grounding us, when we see each other every day in class and are literally only home together anyways.

“That’s true”, Wooyoung chuckled although it sounded not as lively. The prince’s eyes got lost on the green water’s surface that glittered in the sunlight.

San watched him intently, trying to get his attention back with just looking at him, but Wooyoung didn’t notice it until the warrior son cupped his cheek, turning it to him.

“Hey… is something wrong?”

Wooyoung’s eyes looked as if they suddenly mirrored the dampened moor.

“They said you need to leave.”

San pulled his fingers back as if he had burned himself.

“They said you need to go back.”

The prince pulled his legs out of the water and close to his body, hugging them. His chin laid on his knees as he avoided San’s gaze again, looking out to the water striders jumping over the surface as if it was solid ground.

“Doesn’t it bother you at all?”

San adjusted his seating position, feeling uncomfortable in his skin. He wished to make Wooyoung happy at any time and with everything he could. But right now, his young self didn’t know yet how to rebel. Asking to stay wasn’t enough. Begging to stay wasn’t enough. What should he do to get his parents to change his mind? To make their words as well as the royal couple’s unsaid? He didn’t know.

Wooyoung’s curls swayed in front of his face as the wind picked up. “I don’t wanna lose my Almond.”

“I don’t’ wanna lose my Peaches too.”

“Yet you will.”

A shriek sounded as Wooyoung was suddenly taken by the chin.

“Will I?” San’s stare was intense and so full of his pleas that they reverberated louder than his words. “You and me and to the ends of time.” San said with a stern face, watching and waiting for a reaction in Wooyoung’s face. “That’s how we always did.”

“Why aren’t you actively trying to do something against it then?”, Wooyoung’s eyes had a sudden glimmer in them, making them appear red and shiny.

“Because…”, San’s sentence faded into the quiet sounds of the water beneath them.

Because San was scared. The warrior leaned in, eyes falling to Wooyoung’s big lips as if commanded when he thought that all he ever was was scared. Scared of any consequences and follow-ups. If San never risked something, how should he find the end of the rainbow?

But just as he longed for Wooyoung’s cheek, leaning closer, eyes falling slowly shut, Wooyoung backed away. The unfamiliar movement got him out of his trance, looking at a flustered prince, red like the petals of the garden’s roses. The ones that would decorate their bouquet as they got married in San’s dreams every night.

The warrior cleared his throat, scratching his neck and looked away. On the outside he tried to keep his cool but inside he was pumping. Did he just try to lean in and kiss Wooyoung!? Had the late humid heat made him lose it!?

Wooyoung didn’t respond to the weird moment either, just looking away with a pink face.

Did he know what San wanted to do? Would he think about it when he was gone? Would he wish that maybe San wouldn’t have been a coward and pushed through? Did Wooyoung want him to be braver in general? To be the warrior that he had trained to be not only in a matter of muscles but also in a matter of heart. If Wooyoung had fought for his life, it would have been different.

If San had kissed Wooyoung back then – maybe their hearts would have stayed unscathed.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

February had always been so unforgiving to Wooyoung. His tiny silhouette stood in front of the lonely almond tree in the front row of their garden’s alley. There were patches of snow on the branches, the sunlight made them glitter. Why was he even awake at 7am? Why was he barely wrapped in anything keeping it warm when the bite of the air made him flinch. He looked at the naked branches. He despised how his favourite flowers had yet to bloom and yet it felt so bitter to him that next time they would – San would be gone.

They knew. They had known for quite a time yet. Still Wooyoung was wondering if there was really nothing for them to do. If the decision was taken from them just like that.

With a ‘zing’ Wooyoung drew the little silver blade out of its holding in his hands. He saw his tired eyes looking back at himself in the reflection, an old scratch parting his face that had been there since the day his father had given him the knife.

The steps drowned in the crunching of the snow. “Here you are.”

Just his voice let his eyes burn traitorously. “Where has the time run to, San?” He looked up through the branches to keep the tears at bay. “Where has our forever vanished to?”

Instead of words, Wooyoung got a hug from behind, someone smaller by just some inches nuzzling in his neck.

“Me being away will never end our forever. I’ll hold you here, as you will.” Wooyoung felt the goosebumps haunting his body when San’s warm hand wandered over his upper body to his chest, pressing right over his heart. “What’s the knife for, Peaches?”

Peaches…

“I am not fond of just the words”, Wooyoung said, offering the blade to his best friend with a meaningful gaze. “So I wish to carve a symbol – so that your promise will not just die in the wind but would grow with me in this garden until the day we will meet again.”

San didn’t pay the knife any attention as Wooyoung had turned towards him. As of late they had always shared such long eye contact. Some that couldn’t be broken even when people had entered the room, when someone called their names. It had only been seven years, the eight just about to start, and yet it felt like they had lived an eternity together.

San took the knife from the prince’s hand, his own lingering long in his palm to share some physical contact. “You know… I am so glad I met you in spring”, San mused as he hauled the blade into the trunk of the tree. With a grunt he pulled it down in a slant. “Because now every time that Azalea awakes from its slumber again – I’ll be reminded of you.” He changed the angle of his arm; carving. “Reminded of your laughter. Of your bright eyes and cute little dots.” The knuckles around his fingers whitened as he pulled the knife out, just to push it into the wood again. “Of the time we met, the time we spent and the time I will miss.” Wooyoung just stood there, watching San’s back, narrow shoulders, diligent muscles beyond that sweater. “I will think of you. No m-matter if I want or not.”

The stutter made Wooyoung gasp. San ripped the knife out of the tree, breathing heavier than before as he and Wooyoung stared at it.

‘W’ and ‘S’.

Loud and clear. And forever.

San’s eyes were bloodshot, tears trickling down the warrior’s face. Trained to protect to never lose just about to lose it all. Sometimes he laid wake at night – ‘what was it all for?’, he thought, while he had stopped battling the tears soaking the pillows in a poor attempt to sleep.

The prince’s eyes widened at San’s state, watching the sobs break out of his best friend like never before. The knife fell to the ground, imprinted in the snow as San hid his face behind his hands, laying it into the nape of his neck. Seeing San like that moved Wooyoung to approach, to lay his protecting arms around San. He was his pillar of support like San had been his. Wooyoung closed his eyes so excruciatingly slowly. He tried to memorise the way San’s body felt against his own. He took a deep breath – San smelled like the royal gardens. Or maybe they smelled like him. Jasmin and roses and a tad of something more herb. Of becoming of age.

Wooyoung truly believed it. If he just held San tight enough like he did yesterday at the hill at the castle ground’s outskirts – he’d just stay. If he held on tight enough, he’d still be there when he’d open his eyes, he’d hold him through all the seasons that were to come.

Yet, he wanted to scream. His eyes were empty. Open – but so empty. The air was cold, so cold. Who had tried to give him a jacket? A coat? A cape? It wasn’t San. It would never be San again. Wooyoung pushed them away – powerlessly, as if all energy had been drained off him. Maybe he lied – his eyes weren’t empty. He noticed when the shape of the departing carriage blurred into something grey – like the ink of a drawing getting washed away by water. He wanted to scream. Wanted to kick and stomp, scratch at everyone coming near him. He wanted to cry, to sob, to fall apart. Wanted to fold and give up and despair. But nothing of that happened, because what Wooyoung wanted the most was already leaving in the old carriage covered in gold and silver ornaments. The dark brown horses’ shoes clapping as they hit the stone street. He listened to the sounds as if they were the melody to San’s departure. A sad one. One that Wooyoung would imitate with his fingers on his desk while the one next to him in the lecture room would stay unoccupied.

Someone managed to put a coat around Wooyoung – he was too tired to fight it. All he did was pull it closer as he fell to the ground, his pants soaking through the snow. His long black hair, closed in front of his face like the curtain to this story. Over the years they had grown so much – thanks to someone telling him how beautiful they looked on him. His eyes travelled from the ground as he saw the little white dots in the periphery of his vision, inspected the snowflakes decorating his hair like the petals had in their first spring. Like the stars at the night sky they had watched when they should have been long asleep.

Prince Wooyoung couldn’t take it, and San had to watch. Sat in the back of the carriage, hands pressed against the back window as he saw Wooyoung cowering, hiding his face in his hands. San’s fingers pressed into fists as Wooyoung’s shoulders started to shake. He didn’t know if he wanted to go slower and see Wooyoung as long as possible, or to be swift so he wouldn’t have to be pained with this view. Before he could come to any conclusion though, the fog closed in, making the young Lord stare into nothingness. San bumped his forehead against the window, letting out a last exasperated breath as he tried not to cry. Oh, how much he had begged them all that he could stay. How much Wooyoung had been on his hands and knees for them both, how much San had looked for the arguments to prolong his stay.

Had there been nothing that they could have done differently?

People had gathered around Wooyoung, the carriage long gone when the prince just took a run for it. Not after San – he wasn’t that delusional. Where should he even go? His vision was full of tears, he could barely see as he pushed the doors open with both of his hands in front of his body.

“Oh?”, Wooyoung said as he found himself in their little cramped lecture room. A wooden square, how else should he call it. They hadn’t used it the last weeks – Wooyoung and San had not been in any state to study anyways. Two desks were pressed against the same wall. Right next to each other. The dust wasn’t new, the stain of ink on one of them wasn’t either, but what made Wooyoung close the door slowly behind his back, where the multiple papers laying around. “What are those?”

The prince unclipped his white coat, laying it over the chair as he looked at the stack of paper on the floor. It was San’s handwriting.

His vision got fuzzy around the letter’s edges when Wooyoung let himself fall into the stool.

“What is this?”, Wooyoung asked with a gasp, looking at all the letters laying around reading ‘Dear Peaches’ in the beginning.

Wooyoung had never seen San write those. He had never known that those existed, that San had ever written-

“Dear Peaches”

The sudden voice nest to him, made Wooyoung squeak, almost falling off the chair. There was a man sitting at the desk next to him. How had he gotten in here without him noticing? Why was he here? Who was that?

Wooyoung had to admit that he had never seen him before. He was broad, shoulders like a mountain standing tall. His hair was slicked back, making his features struck out in a handsome way. He didn’t seem to mind Wooyoung, or even acknowledge him as he dipped the feather into the glass of ink.

“You must have turned 18 not too long ago.” He muttered all the words that he wrote, “I am so sad that I missed it. The snowfall must have been the worst of the last decades as my carriage got stuck before even finding the first mountains. My planned surprise visit died in that storm and so did my excitement to meet you.

I received your letters all those years. I know how fond you have been of the Snowdrop Ball in particular. Yet, when I had made my visit their last week, you were nothing to be seen. I wonder what had happened. If you had given up on your love for those events or if you just simply could not make it. Not knowing how you fare makes me sick. I am eagerly awaiting your next letter as your last happens to be quite a while ago. Don’t make me wait too long, Wooyoung.”

The young prince flinched in his chair as the man suddenly looked his way. The moles, the eyes, the nose…

“Sa-“

“Don’t make me wait too long, Wooyoung”, he said again, offering Wooyoung the letter.

“I don’t understand. I have never seen those before-“

“You haven’t”, San said – a much, much older San that Wooyoung was used to, “Because none of them”, he gestured through the room, “ever made it to you.”

Wooyoung’s young eyes followed San’s movement. What was this? Was he dreaming?

“Indeed, you are – wake up, my love.”

“Oh, wha-“, the boy stuttered, nervous as San got out of his chair. “My time with San was real! It was all real!!”, Wooyoung screamed as he didn’t want to believe anything else.

San nodded, a soft tone in his eyes, “I would never doubt that. I’ll never forget either.”

A crackling sound made San look to the side. Wooyoung followed his gaze, startling as he saw the corner of the room lit in a fire, the tongues of flames reaching higher and placing an orange hue on their features. Wooyoung scrambled deeper into the chair, legs pulled to his chest in hurried panic.

“H-how did it start burning!? Why is the castle burning!? Sa- SAN!?”

Wooyoung’s grey eyes were filled with the glimmer of flames as he looked back to the warrior again. His naked chest was dipped in bruises, blood smeared on his face.

“Don’t be afraid, love.”, San muttered, the thick blood quilling in his mouth until it trickled down the corner of his chapped lips. His skin was ashen and wan – so different to just a minute before. “You have nothing to fear. Wake up. Please.”

Wooyoung felt his skin starting to tickle and tingle at San’s cryptic words, holding his own head as the dream started to bleed into reality.

Just as the pain became unbearable, he felt the healing hands of his childhood best friend – all grown up – on his own and for some reason… it made it all better. Lighter. Brighter… until Wooyoung’s world was swallowed by non-existing space getting him back from the corner that his subconscious had fled to. From that one place… that Prince Wooyoung had always… wished to return to for seven consequent years.

A world, where San was still there.

Chapter Text

“It is – in fact – the only logical conclusion!!”

“Lord San, I beg you to calm down”, one of the guards said, taking off his white jacket as the discussion has gone on for a while already.

“I will not!”, San fumed, hitting his fist against the table in the middle. “Seonghwa!”

The brother stood next to him, a hand on his cheek, deep in thought. There were dark circles beneath his eyes a telltale that he had been yesterday’s night watch over Wooyoung. “As I said, even when considering Junhyo’s loyalty – so far we have nothing that proves his innocence. The given evidence is way too strong, so…”

“Without Wooyoung we won’t figure that out”, the king sighed, as tired as Seonghwa and San. The queen was absent, San guessed she was still at Wooyoung’s side exactly like she had been when San left for the meeting. San stilled at the ring of Wooyoung’s name.

His eyes hurt so much from staying up night after night, waiting. A look outside the window made him scrunch with his teeth, the trees had turned red outside while Wooyoung was still not awake.

San couldn’t remember much after he had somehow made it out with Wooyoung in his arm; the next time he woke up he was bandaged up, Yunho sitting next to him playing with a knife to pass time. The castle had laid in ruins, the injured treated outside in tents or brought to the capital. When San learned that they had brought Wooyoung to a clinic an hour ride away, San was had almost lost it. Hearing that he wasn’t faring well and that the doctors tried their best made San even more restless.

His rips were broken; they said he was lucky. But San would only ever consider him lucky if Wooyoung was alright in his arms again. Before he’d have his favourite person in a warm embrace, nothing would cheer him up.

It all took so much time to come to somewhat normalcy again. And yet, they had to deal with the questions imposed on them. Who was it? Why? And how did it come to all of this? Although San provided all the answers, it was his information alone and since Junhyo pleaded that they should talk to Wooyoung before doing rush decisions they didn’t want to act yet.

San had lived long enough here to know that Junhyo had been always their closest guard. More a friend than a worker and San had always trusted him when he had lived here as a child. However, things couldn’t be coincidences anymore. Junyho having the same ring as the southern lord, the same emblem that was scratched over the ruined painting of the artists’ place. He would have had the perfect entry to smuggle in poison; knowing where the princes would sit. But it just proved to be so hopeless because… why?

Why would Junhyo do that? But what else was there? It seemed as if something in San’s picture was still missing. And by the head guard’s words it was something better told by Wooyoung. He was jailed in a dungeon in the capital and yet he refused to say what only he and Wooyoung seemed to share. It only proved his loyalty to the prince once more and they all knew if the prince just woke up – then the last pieces of the puzzle would fall into place.

But like this…

“This is a waste of my time”, San seethed, taking his cape and turning to leave.

“Lord San!”

It had been weeks without him and San was surely losing his patience. “NO! I am leaving now. I can turn in circles on my fucking own.”

The door boomed as San walked down the hallways. The guards all gave him wary glances while he passed. Everyone knew – and nobody even took it the wrong way – San’s fiancé had not awoken for weeks, and San was about to lose either his heart or his sanity. Second was already happening as he hadn’t quite slept more than four hours in the last 72 hours. His strong strides got softer the further down he went down the castle that was still in its restauration. People were trying to repair the walls that had been damaged. Some tracts had to be redone all over again. They didn’t put Wooyoung back to his room. Not only because they had to rebuild quite a bit in the royal’s tract, but because San didn’t want him to wake up there. Not when the last time Wooyoung was there he had nearly died.

He approached the room he knew his love was in, softly knocking although he knew he didn’t need to.

The room was full of light, the windows wide open, white curtains dancing in the wind. Against San’s expectations the queen had left some time ago. Even Yeosang was nowhere to be seen. It was rare for any of them to leave Wooyoung completely alone. He wasn’t in any critical condition – at least not anymore – but they still never wanted to leave his side, too intoxicated by the thought something could happen and they would not be there for him.

San wanted to be there when Wooyoung woke up, but the days passed and passed, and he didn’t know how the others even managed to drag him from his bedside.

“Hey love”, San put his jacket on the chair next to the bed. San smiled at Wooyoung, tried to keep it real and not think about what laid beneath those huge bandages around his neck. He was still so pale that San was worried sick. The few foods and nutrition the physician managed to get into Wooyoung every morning was never enough, but there was not much they could do. San reached for Wooyoung’s hand, holding his fingers carefully, feeling the bones protrude through the skin. “Everyone is waiting for you. I hope you are dreaming well today as well. The days are getting so hot, some leaves are turning darker, it makes me already long for next spring – hopefully with you.”

Wooyoung’s eyes stayed closed.

“I love you”, San said, leaning closer to press a kiss on Wooyoung’s mole right beneath his eye. He ran his fingers through Wooyoung’s hair, trailing them all the way down to his cheekbones, before cupping his face gently. San could never take his eyes off Wooyoung when he was here, trying to see the smallest of movements or reaction by the prince. Sometimes he even forgot to blink until his own eyes would start to tear up in the dryness.

“I guess I have somehow ripped myself free of the ivy”, San mused, “You remember, right?” A little chuckle sounded through the four walls, “Of course, you do. You always remembered everything about us with such ease.” The warrior’s glance was challenging yet so gentle, “Took you a while to know it was love – but who am I to talk to”, he laughed, “I was such a coward.”

San knew that probably no one else would have gotten the prince out of the castle anymore if it wasn’t for him and what he had to go through. As soon as San was back on his feet, he told them about the southern lord, and nobody seemed to be surprised. There were issues with that guy, issues that made San clench his fists.

Wooyoung’s family seemed to have mercy with San’s broken state when they found him day and night at their youngest bedside, so they told him eventually. The southern lord had voiced his interest in Wooyoung quite some time ago. Multiple times and that for years. They all knew that behind the wish to marry Wooyoung was more negative greed than love, they would never give Wooyoung up – but since Wooyoung stayed and stayed unwed… their time ran out.

San could wretch thinking that that guy had danced with Wooyoung at the ball of Persephone – he should have trusted his gut and just not let that bastard take Wooyoung away from him.

“Because now he achieved what he wanted”, San said, slightly closing his fingers around Wooyoung’s hand but not enough to hurt him even in the slightest, “He took you.” San pressed his eyes shut, controlling his breathing to not let the tears take over, “What have you done to deserve such misfortune happen to you all the time?”

The days passed like fish in their royal pond, circling and always the same and yet never ending. San was certain to lose his mind as he stood day in and day out to watch the peach tree lose its blossom. They were meant to marry in early summer, but here there were – July fast approaching.

He had started writing letters again. Letters to his lovely Peaches. So that one day they would reach him – like his youthful heart had always believed. Yet, his eyes had gotten so tired from counting the falling petals, hands folded in his back, until-

“Lord San!”

Yeosang looked shaken. The frown on San’s face was swiftly substituted by shock. Why was Wooyoung’s servant getting San – all drenched in sweat – almost not able to catch his breath unless for one thing to happen.

San didn’t even ask. He just ran.

There was uproar in the castle’s walls, guards were yelling all over the halls and the more San heard it the less he believed it. Some maids stormed San’s way, trying to give him the news that had been all over the palace like a cloud hanging over them.

San shoved them to the side, not violently but determined. Nobody would be in his way.

“Wooyoung!”, he bolted into the room, the door wide open as it was filled with tons of people. His eyes darted around like the nervous one’s of an injured deer before they fell on those weak, pale hands tightening its grip around Seonghwa’s shoulders clad in his uniform. Hadn’t he been supposed to go to the capital for a meeting? Had he not already been on the way?

He must have left it all hanging as the news must have reached him.

San took a shaky breath, the tears welling up. “Wooyoung…”, he breathed and with the second attempt, he got his attention.

The second prince detached from his brother, looking up to the side with big round eyes. The eyes San had missed so much.

“Oh, dear god”, San sobbed stumbling to Wooyoung’s side, who was also trying to crawl out of the bed, but San reached him first, tackling him into the duvets. His hands found his body, trying to soften the impact but San couldn’t help it. “I thought you’d never wake up”, San cried into Wooyoung’s shoulder, “Wooyoung. Wooyoung”, he wailed as his lover’s arms encircled his waist.

“S-san”, he croaked out, his voice sounding so abused from all that happened and yet San coaxed out a sound of relief and despair of the same time.

He had him back. San pushed himself up on his arms, holding Wooyoung’s face in his hands, it being the most precious thing in the world.

“You’re back. Oh my god I can’t believe it”, San cried, his face flushed red as the tears plopped down on Wooyoung’s skin. The prince’s eyes were not doing better as they looked red and tired, almost too tired to produce any tears.

“I am so sorry”, Wooyoung replied, choking on a sob as his weak fingers tried to grab at San as much as possible, weakly pulling him close and San let him, encircling him in a tight hug. San didn’t care that Seonghwa was watching, that Woo’s parents had come their way with Yeosang too and that the guards witnessed it when San connected their lips so desperately in their hold. He had him back, that was all that mattered.

“I love you, no sorry”, San rasped as they broke the kiss, making Wooyoung hiccup beneath him.

“B-but-“, Wooyoung’s words were broken by another kiss, a gentle one – one like the feathers of Wooyoung’s pigeon, of the bringer of their messages – their key to the longevity of their love and feelings.

San dug his face into Wooyoung’s shoulder, “You have no idea how much I missed you.” It was merely a whisper.

Wooyoung was stunned.

“Thank you”, San kissed his temple.

“What for?”, the prince whispered, closing his eyes in San’s embrace, overwhelmed by all the things happening around him. He had so many questions, so many dulling pains cursing through his body – yet, he didn’t care for any of them the moment he had seen San dash into the room.

“For coming back from your peaceful dreams, no matter how much it must have pained you t-to leave”, San choked on his own words. Life had given Wooyoung nothing but spikes lately and San could not further accept the way Wooyoung had been hurt by all life had to throw on him. San wished to protect him from it all, but he knew that that was a far way dream. He could promise to stay at his side until all eternity and be there for him, protect him… But he knew that there were things that were inevitable, and San had to accept that breaking free of the ivy didn’t mean to make Wooyoung invulnerable, but to accept that they would face hardships – but together. That Wooyoung would neither leave him nor be disappointed in him if he did not manage to keep him from any harm.

San’s breath hitched as Wooyoung tightened his hold, pulling San close. “Thank you for saving my life.”

The lips tickled on San’s collarbones as the warrior froze.

‘Thank you for saving my life.’

San reciprocated the hug. Thank you for being my life.

Just as San calmed down after days of fearing and screaming – yelling to the gods to lift the curse off him – to give him back the person he cared for the deepest – he had to give up their embrace because of violent coughing fits.

“Wooyoung?”, San asked, determined to help in any way as the prince rang for air. “Breathe slowly, I’ll get you water to calm down your throat.”

“It hurts”, Wooyoung coughed, holding his neck a bit before flinching at the actual contact.

“No touching”, San shushed as he scooted closer to give Wooyoung water to drink. His gaze hovered over Seonghwa, who was already nodding towards him.

“I’ll get the physician so he can look at Wooyoung agai-“

“No need”, Yeosang said as he entered the room with firm streps, right on his tail – the physician already unpacking his bag. “I got him just the second after I got San.”

The physician came over, placing his stuff on the other side of the bed that San was not sitting on. He watched carefully – almost intimidatingly, as he reached for more and more instruments.

“What are those for?”

The man gave San a sympathetic look, knowing how much he must dislike seeing all those tools.

“I am going to look and hear if his heartbeat is alright and his organs function. I’ll look for any sign of concussion or shock response. Since we couldn’t ask you by the time you got here – my Prince, does something hurt?”

And suddenly all eyes were on him. Truly… did something hurt? Wooyoung had been quite overwhelmed since he had woken up. Last time he had closed his eyes he was on the verge of dying, his body seething hot as he tried not to slip into unconsciousness while watching the blood drip from San’s teeth.

At the thought Wooyoung’s eyes ripped open, looking to San.

The warrior frowned; his smooth skin perfect as if there had never been an injury before. Was it all healed already? But if so… how long had Wooyoung slept?

Wooyoung’s grey eyes focused in and out, slipping from San to the window behind him. The rustling of lush green leaves. The slight hints of red mixing into nature’s colour, dancing on the edges of the wooden frame.

How much time… had passed?

“Prince Wooyoung?”

“Uh?”, Wooyoung shrieked, the question that had been directed his way forgotten. “I am well. I feel like my consciousness is hanging by a thread though. That it could snap every second and take out the candles in my head. My throat hurts”, he rasped, the last words emphasised through a hand swiftly wrapped around his own neck. Not tightly, but just enough to make him cower from his own hands, twisting his other hand into a fist in the duvet as he could only imagine the pain he’d go through if someone really touched there.

“I expected as much”, the doctor murmured, looking for something specific. “We will have to look at it, to guarantee that it heals well. Talking should be reduced to a bare minimum until I give you a go. We don’t want to make the damage that your vocal cords take a turn for the worse.”

Wooyoung felt San’s soothing hand pet his shoulder, drawing circles as everyone else except them and the physician left the room. He held his hand so gently, rubbing his thumb into the back of his hand when the bandages got taken down.

Wooyoung knew he wouldn’t be able to see the injury, because there were no mirrors in the room, yet he closed his eyes – scrunching close as he was too afraid to face it, when San took a sharp breath seeing his abused neck. The cold air hitting his naked skin there made him wince too.

“Shh, shh, it’s all good”, San soothed. When Wooyoung opened his eyes, catching San’s loving gaze – Wooyoung’s heart skipped a beat. He didn’t even want to phantom how his neck looked – how his skin must have fallen in, creating hollow shadows on his skin and body. Yet, San only had eyes for him. The warrior watched the movements of the physician precisely, telling him to be careful whenever he put another tool to Wooyoung’s weakened body.

It made Wooyoung feel safe. No… he felt loved. So…

“I love you.”

San jerked, looking to Wooyoung with wide eyes. The physician chuckled as San’s expression softened. “I love you too.”

The doings of the doctor had been forgotten as Wooyoung and San looked at each other, smiling through it all as if there was no one except them in the entire world. Wooyoung had always only had eyes for his Sannie. Things would never change after all.

It took some minutes and Wooyoung got tired out by all the tests and check-ups he had to endure.

“Are we done yet?”, the prince yawned, slowly feeling as if someone was pulling his body to the bed, trying to tie him there.

The physician looked at some notes he took, scratching his chin, “Well. We are.”

San had laid down next to Wooyoung some while ago, looking up to the older man, “And? What does he have?”

“It is like expected – some damage on your vocal cords and throat, we will have to watch that but I believe that it should all heal up well. It just needs some time. I will prescribe the same medicine as back then and will ask the servants to get it from the capital in the next days.”

“I see”, Wooyoung rasped, grasping his blanket.

“What do you mean with ‘back then’?”, San asked, supporting his head in one hand as he looked between Wooyoung and the physician.

“I-“

“Wooyoung!!”

The prince ducked his head as the door flew open, revealing his brother but not for long as he was pushed to the side by the king.

Wooyoung’s face fell, “Dad!!” San reached out to hinder Wooyoung from getting out of the bed lazily with just one hand. But there was no need for Wooyoung to come out of the bed as the king fell to his knees right next it.

“Oh, by all the goddesses”, his father’s voice trembled as he encircled his son in a caring hug. “You are well.”

The tears came almost on their own and Wooyoung did not have much control over the hiccups falling from his lips. “Dad.”

“I am so incredibly sorry, Wooyoung. I should have prevented all of this. Where have I failed as a father – seeing you liked this.”

The king ended the hug to look at his son properly. His eyes looked so tired, the creases around them made him look so much older and Wooyoung wondered if they had been there all this time or if the guilt of not being able to get Wooyoung out of a burning castle had carved that deep into his skin.

“You tried your best-“, Wooyoung said but the king shook his head, cupping Wooyoung’s cheeks.

“San did. I definitely didn’t. The entrances were barren, the fire had swallowed it all.”

“He tried to get in though”, the physician said from the side, folding the towel he had used earlier. “As much as you beat yourself up, Your Majesty. Wooyoung is safe and from your point of view there was nothing you could have done differently. Nor Prince Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa lowered his gaze, fisting the blanket over Wooyoung’s feet, “I wanted to run in there so bad. Never in my life I had wished more to not be the crown prince. To easily throw my life away for my little brother.”

“Seonghwa…”, Wooyoung whined, his heart squeezing at the confession.

“It is true”, Seonghwa said tiredly yet with determination, “I would have gone through those flames and if it had burnt me alive. Just to get you-“

“Don’t say something like that”, Prince Wooyoung shushed way more effectless than intended.

“San did the same”, Seonghwa chipped in, “If he could do it, I should have been able to do it too.”

Wooyoung looked to San, feeling the warmth spread in his chest as San reciprocated the gaze. Just shortly after the good feeling got overpowered by the shadow of a thought.

What if San had not come?

Wooyoung shivered. What a thought… A scenario Wooyoung could not fathom – especially since that would have meant that he most probably would have been… dead?

Just as his teeth were about to chitter in the dark thoughts, a warm hand in the nape of his neck got him out. San massaged his nape until Wooyoung closed his eyes in comfort. There was nothing to worry about. San would have gotten him after all. Always. Even through the claws of fire and death. He would have prevailed – like he always did. He knew that San would have gone to hell and back to rescue his Persephone from Hades’ hold.

The physician packed the last of his things before walking towards the door, “It is certainly true that if not for Lord San, this would have ended differently.”

“We really owe you my son’s life”, the king joined, making San huff.

“Oh please. No more of that. You have already thanked me enough – sufficient for a lifetime. I love Wooyoung and I would decide to do so over and over again, your Majesty. There is nothing to thank me for.”

The king grunted, “If you weren’t my son’s fiancé already, I would ask you to be his personal guard – or to marry him again.”

“Is that why you arranged our marriage back in February?”, Wooyoung asked, suddenly feeling stupid for never asking what brought their parents to agree to this. They had always said because San was a friend and because San’s parents were friends. But the more he unravelled the things that happened, he wasn’t sure…

The king and Seonghwa exchanged a look, “Maybe it is time to tell him after all.”

“Tell what?”

And what they had to tell. Maybe Wooyoung should have lived in the bliss of ignorance.

“Things may all tie together here”, the king grunted, nodding towards San who took a ring off his finger. Wooyoung had never seen San wear it ever before and just as he got a proper glimpse he knew why.

“That is headguard Junhyo’s ring. Why do you have that?”, the prince’s expression was the cover of confusion as he couldn’t catch up with what happened.

“Can you remember the events of last month, Wooyoung?”, his father asked, petting his thigh gently and although Wooyoung could so clearly, he stayed away from any form of reply. His mind was still hung up on this word.

… Month.

Last month. Month. It had been a month. The prince forbid himself the bitter chuckle. Oh, he had been knocked out cold. They… They must have been worried sick…

“Can you remember who the culprit was?”, San asked carefully, not knowing how to tell Wooyoung. How the prince would feel when they told him that he had been courted by this disgusting bastard for years. Since he was 17. It was sick and San forbid himself the thought. He had fallen for the prince at a young age too, but their approaches and ages were much different.

Yet, when the king took on the job to tell him, San saw the way Wooyoung tensed. Like his body completely froze. San expected questions. What? And No. Maybe a cry out or a shiver of disgust.

“I know”, Wooyoung said nonchalantly instead, and it took them all by surprise. Wooyoung sighed, “Not that he actually asked for my hand in marriage that often. But I am not stupid, I saw his advances. And when I clashed into him once more at the ball of Persephone… it all fell together. He told me that if he can’t have me, nobody should.”

“Wooyoung”, Seonghwa said with emphasis, warning him to be careful because he was about to reveal too much to go back on his words. But Wooyoung shook his head. He had enough from the secret keeping and took San’s hand.

“San, there is something you should know. Something I hid from you for far too long.”

San’s blood ran cold. What? His mind started racing. From a possible uncurable sickness to a fake heir and title San had thought about what Wooyoung could be hiding. What would be worth hiding from San? But when Wooyoung spoke he knew why.

“When I was 17… I was nearly killed. It was an attack at a summer festival. Aimed at me.”

At first… San felt nothing but then the rage bubbled up before the worry could even set in. “What!? Who?” It was the only thing San wanted to know. “How? What happened?!” His eyes wandered in the round, but nobody met his gaze, “How come I never heard of this? An attack on the royal family – on the prince! How-“

“I didn’t want to…”

San got quiet.

“I didn’t want you to know.”

“…Why?” San felt betrayed. Had they been childhood friends for nothing? Had they not sworn to tell each other everything?

“Tell me, San, how should I have told you? How? I was terrified. I was in shock. I was nearly dead. I- I just couldn’t. There was no way I could write you a letter telling you the turmoil of my inner feelings. And as much as it all healed well, I still wear the scars on my heart’s sleeve. Being reminded of it is the last thing I want. I knew that someday you had to know. That someday we would be together again and I’d tell you. I just never knew… how.”

San calmed down at the prospect of Wooyoung’s feelings. Of course he understood. San would have had a heart attack opening such letter. He would have run all the way to the castle of Azalea.

Wooyoung touched the bandages on his neck, “You always wondered why I hated jewellery so much. It’s not a lie when I say that they feel like a restriction to my freedom. But when it all comes down to it, it’s just me being scared. Scared that it will happen again.”

San didn’t dare to ask. He didn’t need to.

“He just-“, Wooyoung said, making a rapid gesture with his hand as if he pulled an invisible rope tight around his neck. “And he would not stop. And it would start to bleed until my world blackened.”

Wooyoung closed his eyes, sighing as his arms dropped into his lap.

“He’s dead.”

“Uh?”, Wooyoung looked up to San, who caught his gaze immediately. “How would you know?”

“Because I killed him, right?”

Goosebumps spread over Wooyoung’s arms. “How did you find out?”

San squinted his eyes, “With what you told me just now, the way you behaved and what I’ve heard from the southern lord so far... It all just works together so… fucking… well. It’s not Junhyo, right? It has never been.”

Wooyoung shook his head, taking the ring from San. “Junhyo was the one who saved my life back then. If he hadn’t come that exact second, it would have been over. The attacker lost his ring and Junhyo kept it as a hint to find him one day.”

“Wait, why did you never tell us that?”, Seonghwa asked, “We could have done a search group for those rings since they seemed to serve as a symbol.”

“I didn’t want that”, Wooyoung declared, “It was stupid and selfish and dangerous, but I just didn’t want to be reminded of it anymore. I was so… scared. How could I live with dealing with the attack all the time. To see my family break on it more than you already did back then. But at least we had the chance to recover and heal from it. Together.” Wooyoung wiped a tear away, “I nearly died. All I wanted was for it to be forgotten. I asked Junhyo to keep it a secret. To do his search in secret. I and everyone else should not know.” A bitter laugh bubbled from his throat, “He kept that burden on himself for years just for you to distrust him now. Get him out of that jail please. He doesn’t deserve it.”

“We will immediately”, Seonghwa announced, nodding to Wooyoung before taking his leave.

“I can’t believe he nearly killed my baby twice”, the king shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It’s not your fault, dad”, Wooyoung grasped for his hands, but looked to San, “It’s nobody’s.”

San nodded, feeling caught as he definitely wanted to jump onto the king’s guilt too.

“Get better soon, love”, San whispered, pulling Wooyoung close. “I’ll make your recovery feel good.” His fingers drew circles on his upper back, and he hoped it would relax the prince a little, although his thoughts still circulated around those newly news.

“You always make me feel good, Choi San”, Wooyoung giggled and despite the painful rasp, it was still the loveliest sound. “Can’t wait to marry you soon.”

The movement of his fingers stopped, “You still want to marry me?”

Wooyoung blinked as if he had seen a ghost, “What kind of question is that? I thought you love me?”

“I love you to the moon and back, Wooyoung. I just thought after all the bad stuff that happened lately, you wouldn’t-“ San’s words got cut as Wooyoung just leaned in for a kiss.

“You are a stupid idiot.”

San blushed, embarrassed to be called like that by Wooyoung in the presence of the king.

“Wooyouuuung”, he whined, not finding it funny at all that Wooyoung would reply like that to such an important question. Of course, Wooyoung knew that. He read San like an open book. His favourite one.

“I love you and want to marry you.”

San wanted to tear up. After all those weeks of hoping and preparing for the worst case, for the day the physician would say that all hope’s lost, he finally got his Wooyoung back.

The warrior smiled, “That’s marvellous because I feel the same.”

“I am more than happy that you both found to each other again and I very much approve of your wedding”, the king smiled, “I am beyond worlds that the marriage now goes through beneath the power of love and not a seal of force under the veil of the southern lord’s threat.”

“So, it was a coy to marry San in order to have someone to protect me?”, Wooyoung concluded at last as the king nodded.

“Guards like Junhyo can keep you company when you are wandering outside, but the threat was far closer and more private. I not only wanted someone who protected your body but also you heart. I am glad I was not wrong in you, San.”

San just smiled back, still holding Wooyoung so close.

“Let’s get married then?”, Wooyoung asked so sweetly, San wanted to cry. His onyx eyes sparkled like on the first day, his dot looked so cute he wanted to poke it and his lips so sinfully as if they were waiting for him.

“When spring comes around again, you shall be mine”, San murmured leaning in until his warm lips touched his.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

“San! San!”, Wooyoung laughed, mouth wide open as he tried to get a hold around San’s neck as San lifted him up in his arms in a princess carry. “Let me down, oh my god”, he giggled, wiggling with his legs.

The grin on San’s face was unmatchable. “Never. I’ll carry my husband wherever I want”, San leaned down to kiss him.

“Not husband yet”, Wooyoung pouted.

“Soon”, San smiled as he ascended the stairs with Wooyoung in his arms. The prince wore a cream-coloured long dress, long sleeve as winter had cooled down the walls of the castle way too much. Wooyoung shook out his hair as it had grown out to his shoulders over the months San had been at the castle.

“You promised to marry me soon when I woke up”, Wooyoung sulked.

San leaned his head down to let their foreheads touch. “When spring comes. I want to marry you beneath the almond blossom, like I met you.”

“You’re such a romantic”, Wooyoung rolled his eyes but didn’t hide the smile.

San shook his head, “I have waited too many years to be satisfied with anything less than perfect, love.”

Wooyoung stared up to San, admiring his face, following the line of his lips with every word he spoke.

“I love you.”

San stopped the ascend, looking down at the prince in his arms.

“What a view to behold.”

The voice came from behind them, making San turn with the prince in his arms. At the bottom of the stairs to the pigeon tower stood Yunho clad in a dark suit, holding a towel.

The fabric of Wooyoung’s dress was all over San’s arms, some reaching towards the stairs to his feet. The couple stood in the middle of the ascension on the top of the stairs, darkness laid behind them, framing them like the artwork that had been done for them in spring.

Yunho threw San a grin, “You look good together!”

But actually, Yunho meant so much more. San knew what laid in those words. Started by his endless warnings to sort his feelings before it was too late to the motivational speeches when San cried himself into sleep when it hurt too much. If there was someone seeing him crumble at every of Wooyoung’s letters over the years, realising it was love before San ever did, then it was Yunho.

San bowed his head with a genuine smile, “Thank you.”

Yunho showed San a thumbs-up. “Nothing to thank me for, my lord. Fate has its way. I was merely a spectator.”

“Come send the pigeon with us, Yuyu!”, Wooyoung shouted down, getting a laugh from the advisor.

“I’ll leave it to you two. You are perfectly well on your own after all. I’ll prepare a bath for you, San.”

“Alri-“

“Only for San”, Yunho said with a sharp glare as Wooyoung wiggled with his legs and giggled.

“Hey, how did you know I would ask?”

The advisor sighed, rubbing his forehead, “Because you ask every time, my prince.” He couldn’t keep the smile from his lips.

With a last nod towards the royal couple, Yunho took his leave.

“Do you think Yunho is sad that you’ll get married?”, Wooyoung asks when San ascended the last stairs.

He hummed, “Hmm, not really. He said he’d move in with me. It’s not like it’s a big surprise to him anyways. If there was someone believing in us, then it was him.”

“Oh, really?”, Wooyoung blushed a bit, making San chuckle.

The big doors came into view and San let the prince down carefully. Although it had been months, Wooyoung was still finding back to his strength. Thank the goddess his vocal chords had recovered without any problems. Even his neck laid bare of any scars or visible memorials to the day the castle had burnt down.

Sometimes San woke up in cold sweat, feeling like something as horrendous could only be a nightmare. At least he had Wooyoung at his side every night, holding his hand through the pain until it would subside.

“Oh, what an honour”, the birdkeeper greeted them as the stuffy air of the dark tower greeted them.

Wooyoung coughed a bit, “You knew we would come.”

“Of course I did”, the old man said, putting all his weight on the cane. A curing pigeon flew down, landing on his shoulder. He lifted his finger with his free hand, playing with the bird a bit. “Have you prepared the letter?”

“Oh”, San rummaged in his pockets until he found the already rolled up letter. They had written it together yesterday. The old chamber was filled with life and laughter once again as they both had found themselves covered in ink at the end of it. If you asked Wooyoung – then San started. But quite frankly… Wooyoung had started for sure; smeared the black ink all over San’s cheek first.

Wooyoung lifted his finger for a loud whistle and San smiled in the face of good old memories as a brown pigeon came down the tower flapping its wings.

“There you are”, Wooyoung cooed, reaching out his hand for the bird to land on. “Aww”, Wooyoung petted the bird with his index finger, laughing as it chirped happily.

San put the letter to the bird’s feet, before also petting it carefully – still shocked that Wooyoung had managed to train it in a way it would finally accept San.

“You should better hurry if you want the letter to arrive tomorrow before sunset”, the keeper of the tower said, walking off into the shadows again. “You don’t want them to come late after all.”

Wooyoung smiled up to San, who reciprocated with ease. San was on the prince’s tail as he walked towards the platform leading to the windows. He turned and waited for San.

“Let’s do it together.”

San nodded, stepping next to his lover. He lifted his palm waiting for Wooyoung to set the pigeon in his hand. He leaned closer, standing on his tiptoes to steal a kiss from the warrior. San’s lips were still as warm and soft as the first time they kissed back in the rain at the pond.

“How did I deserve a kiss?”, San said all dreamy, reaching up to cup Wooyoung’s warm cheek with his other hand, rubbing his thumb over the smooth skin.

Wooyoung hummed, “No need to earn it, because I love you”, he leaned up for another one, “You’ll get them endlessly.”

What a lucky guy San was. Sometimes he found himself smiling like an idiot for no reason. Or well the reason being Park Wooyoung who would not realise for the love of the goddess how cute and adorable and pretty and considerate…

Yeah, let’s leave that.

“Ready?”, Wooyoung asked, grinning over his whole face as he gave the pigeon a good push together with San, watching it fly off. The wings fought against the gust of winds until they evened out in a comfortable flight.

Both boys watched the bird until its silhouette dulled in the sky of early dusk.

San couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe that he had finally written the words he had desired to write his parents all those years. But… dear mother. Dear father.

San blinked through a veil of happy tears, watching the bird vanish in the blinding lights of the sunset.

I am going to marry Wooyoung next spring.

Chapter Text

It had become a quite unusual sight to see the sun glow so brightly in these months. Wooyoung took a deep breath, fully enjoying spending some hours outside since it wasn’t freezing cold. He really hoped for spring to come soon for many reasons, but he would have to wait a bit longer.

Until the green blossomed from the trees again, he would just take advantage of those warmer days of the new year.

With a dreamy smile, Wooyoung held his dress, stepping through the little blanket of snow. It was a new year, and it would be an exciting one. It was the year Wooyoung would get married. Just two more months.

“I’m delighted to see you so well, my prince”, headguard Junhyo said as they walked side by side through the royal gardens; empty branches covered in snow. A sparrow chirped and took flight, the little movement making the white snow fall to the ground above their heads.

The headguard had settled in a slow pace next to Wooyoung, hands folded behind his back while he watched the bird take off.

“The same goes for you.”

The guard looked to the prince with a little smile. He had been the royal’s guard for so long. He had seen Wooyoung growing up from an infant to an adult. He remembered the day Wooyoung got born as well as all the other days he had watched over the young prince.

“It’s been merely two months, my prince.”

“Still.”

After everything, Seonghwa, Jongho, and San had gone to the south to clear the conflict. Wooyoung had spent those days alone healing, although he hadn’t been alone. Yeosang and his father had kept him close company, helping him and keeping him entertained. Hongjoong had helped a lot with rehabilitating Wooyoung’s condition again, so Wooyoung was able to leave the bed and greet San with a warm hug in front of the palace as soon as he came back.

San had only gone with them as a back-up, in case things escalated. But the people there were desperate. Angry – yes, but when Seonghwa offered them an ear to listen, they swallowed down their anger, seeing a chance. And Seonghwa was a good king-to-be and he wanted to solve problems and make compromises. He was resolute but if he made a mistake, he’d fix it.

Wooyoung would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried. But at least San and Wooyoung had sent multiple letters a week to stay informed. Wooyoung of course had hidden the fact that he was walking around again to surprise his lover. With such success. He had rarely seen San cry so much as when Wooyoung had run into his arms after weeks of being nothing but bedridden.

“In the end, Seonghwa had kept the reform from last year”, Junhyo started to explain as they explicitly met up so that Wooyoung could get the last bits of information about the whole situation. “The south had a quite drastic economical downfall in the last decade, which resulted in poverty. The money Azalea offered for artists was a bait for people to immigrate. People started to become artist so they could make money here and save their families in the south. If we had known how many people from there relied on the money, Prince Seonghwa would have probably not done the reform, although it will prove as the right choice in the future. There was too much inequality. Leaving it would just drift the society and kingdoms further apart. I think it was a wise decision.”

Wooyoung had never thought that most of the artists that he had loved to visit so much had been from the south. How should he? They would not reveal it either – it would have raised too much suspicion that something was going on. Now it made sense to Wooyoung, that people had left after the reform – people had been there for the money and not for the craftwork itself. It pained Wooyoung because he had always believed in the truth of their hearts and artworks. But maybe Wooyoung was too naïve as a prince to know the role of money. On the other hand, he was happy that the field would be only for the true artists now.

“With the south skittering into a critical state and the southern lord having the last savings of money and treasures, it was easy to follow him. They told us that they were goaded to go against the royal family of Azalea. That we were the scapegoat. I guess the aim on your back, my prince, was mainly… personal. The former artists had said they merely did what they were advised to do.”

A shiver ran down Wooyoung’s spine, kicking a gravel away. “So, it started as a personal vendetta and turned into a kingdom wide conflict?”, Wooyoung sighed, “Luckily… things haven’t gotten worse…”

The prince said that fully aware that he was nearly killed twice but knowing that at the root of those problems and that nationwide feud was he himself, made Wooyoung want to hide in his bed again. However, the prince didn’t really have a chance to drown in guilt and self-hate as there was a personal sun bringer attached to his very being.

“Oh, here you are! Our meeting point in the royal gardens should be specified next time. I ran laps to find you. Oh… greetings, headguard Junhyo!”

Wooyoung smiled as he found San as soon as he turned his head towards the voice. He was wearing some jacket adorned with glittery silver ornaments. A black cape tried to hide it but with not much success. His black hair was a bit dishevelled from the run, but it only made him look cuter.

“Greetings, my Lord”, Junyho said with a little bow.

Wooyoung was glad that neither San nor Junhyo harboured bad blood for one another. After all that had happened Wooyoung would have understood if things had stayed bad between them for a long time. But it seemed like both men were just happy about the outcome and wanted to be a team more than opponents.

San smiled widely, teeth showing, “Am I too early? Am I interrupting?” San fished in his pocket for a watch, but Junhyo interrupted him.

“I think… everything is said, right my prince?”

Wooyoung gave Junhyo a charming yet thankful smile, “Yes, I think so too. Thank you.”

The headguard bowed before walking down the snow fallen path. Footprints left in the garden. One hand laid on the hilt of his sword while a little whistle sounded around the naked trunks of the trees. Sometimes Wooyoung wondered, what had driven this man to give his life to the Park family. Yet, he couldn’t be more thankful.

Wooyoung touched his neck.

For everything he had done for them.

“What did you two talk about?”, San asked as he pushed Wooyoung’s cape tighter together. He didn’t want his darling to catch a cold in those winter months.

“South”, Wooyoung said shortly, signalling that he didn’t want to talk about it more.

“Oh”, San longed for Wooyoung’s hand, squeezing it to give him his silent reassuring.

“I am alright.”

Sadly, that was partly true. Wooyoung was plagued by nightmares, waking up not only San with his screams but alarming guards and sometimes even his family, making them storm their shared room at night in a cold sweat. They all worked to make Wooyoung feel safe and comfortable as best as possible though, and things had already gotten better. Wooyoung was in good spirits too that every scar would fade one day.

“Have you heard from your parents?”, Wooyoung asked to lift the mood again. He pulled slightly on San’s hand to get them to fall into a slow walk side by side.

San grinned, “I have! They will arrive a week prior.”

It was lovely to see so much happiness on San’s face lately. His face had always been so contorted by worry and concern. He deserved to be excited and happy. And not to lie – it was contagious, and Wooyoung needed his sun to shine like that to heal better.

“Are you excited?”, Wooyoung asked softly, failing to hide his smile.

“Very! I can’t wait for them to see you again! That I can introduce you to them.”

A laugh bubbled from Wooyoung’s lips, “They know me, San.”

He shook his head, “But not as my future husband.”

The words made Wooyoung’s whole body warm and fuzzy. Husband.

With a little twirl, San pulled Wooyoung closer to his chest, staring at him intently.

“What?”, Wooyoung giggled.

“Hmm”, San hummed, leaning further down, “Nothing. I just love you.” San’s hand snaked around Wooyoung’s waist, pulling him close. Wooyoung hummed into the kiss, laying his hands onto San’s cheeks. The more pressure San put into the kiss, the more Wooyoung arched his back, starting to laugh as he started to lose his footing.

“So eager”, Wooyoung taunted. It seemed that together with the awakening of the nature, their love had also blossomed from anew. And if Wooyoung was honest – if every spring their love deepened, and they would feel as though they were falling for the first time – Wooyoung would like that. Even now - this year - felt different; gone was the pressure on their shoulders holding them down, leaving them freely to float. Like an almond petal.

“I have been waiting to marry you for years now. Even my patience finds an end sometimes”, San murmured against Wooyoung’s lips, making the prince blush. To answer his own statement, San embraced Wooyoung more, hiding his small form in his big one, letting his hand roam hungrily over Wooyoung’s body as he pressed him so close that they would melt together any second. The kiss deepening. Even through Wooyoung’s three layers of winter clothes he felt every muscle of San’s hand move on his body, making Wooyoung hum into the kiss until he started laughing.

“Sorry, sorry”, he giggled as he was unable to keep a straight face after San started to adorably pout as soon as he broke off their kiss.

His nose scrunched so cutely that San couldn’t help but press a kiss to its tip, making the prince squeal. He ducked away, the ribbon at the back of his head bouncing in the movement and San felt so incredibly lucky once again.

“I love you.”

Wooyoung stilled, looking at San wide-eyed before grinning back, “I love you more.” He wrapped his arms around San’s neck, deeply staring at San’s lips.

“Mmm”, San hummed and leaned down to whisper on his lips, “You will lose that game. Who is eager now?”

With a huff Wooyoung leaned back, letting his eyes wander up to San’s brown ones, “Hmm, I think I have to go to Yeosang.”

Wooyoung separated himself from San, making the warrior hum amused, “Hmm, and I think you’re lying.”

The prince squealed as San tried to grab his wrist but escaped.

“Woo”, San warned knowingly, and he had an inkling where this was going.

The ruching of the dress got cramped in Wooyoung’s hold as he made sure the fabric would bounce above his ankles. “Catch me”, he whispered into the soft winter afternoon, his breath curling in the air like a little cloud – fog dissipating into thin air as if the words spoken had never been there. Yet, for San, they lingered for so long.

Melodious laughter filled the royal gardens as Wooyoung tried to run from San, who took his assignment very seriously, making the heart of Azalea buzz in the long-lost feeling of those two boys again. Two children just hunting after one another in the beginning of spring.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

“San!”, the voice echoed in the white marble hall. San’s hair had gotten longer over time, the strands laid widely in his eyes, flying as he turned his head wide-eyed. He stood at the plateau of the thrones – just in the middle of a conversation when he heard his name with the familiar sound of the doors.

It was a voice he hadn’t heard in so long.

The warm hand that had been holding his slowly let go, making San look back to Wooyoung.

The prince chuckled, hiding his smile behind his white folded fan. “Why are you looking like that? Go to them, come on. I won’t vanish.”

San still looked as if he had seen a ghost. Not because he was particularly surprised to see his parents – he had invited them after all. However… it had been months and for San not only a bit had changed since then, but his entire life.

San’s white cape flared up behind his hurried steps as he jumped down the three steps to rush towards them.

“My son”, the old warrior of the west said as he welcomed San with a warm hug, before the man pushed him to a distance to give him a good look. “You look good. Healthy. Something to celebrate after all the horrible news we kept receiving from you.”

“I apologise, father”, San smiled, dimples popping as he also went to give his mother a warm hug.

“My dear San”, she sighed, holding the back of his head close to her, “You look great.” She looked up to his son, pinching one of his dimples. “So happy. You’re glowing.”

“It suits him the most.”

San had not heard Wooyoung approaching but he didn’t need to look as he felt someone slip his hand into his empty one, giving him butterflies like every day. The last couple of weeks his feelings seemed to intensify as the wedding day grew near – San had barely been able contain himself when Wooyoung had been away to the capital to get his dress made.

Wooyoung’s wedding dress…

San was already vibrating at horse’s speed. He couldn’t even fathom how he would look that day and yet it was the sight that San kept daydreaming about to fall into a peaceful sleep.

“Prince Wooyoung! It has been so long”, both parents from the west greeted the prince formally. “Have you recovered well?”

“Quite well. Thanks to San.”

“You have grown so much”, San’s mother gasped, “And so beautifully.”

“Oh”, Wooyoung rushed his fan out, hiding like he loved to do. San had a sly grin as he took the fan from him, lifting his chin with it.

“No. Hiding. Love.” The words were spoken so softly and yet with so much emphasis that it made Wooyoung just blush harder.

While Wooyoung and San continued their little stare off, the king and Seonghwa approached from the throne where they had talked to Wooyoung and San before. “It seems our sons have finally found to each other, dear friend.”

San’s father looked above the young couple towards the king, bowing his head slightly in a greeting, “It was about time, if you ask me. Never play with young people’s hearts – they will find their way.”

The men laughed over San’s and Wooyoung’s heads who now progressed their staring duel into one of pouting and Wooyoung was pretty sure he was about to win. He knew how cute he looked with his signature pout.

“Give me back my fan”, Wooyoung sulked, lower lip protruding as his eyes were lowered. It didn’t need another word for Wooyoung to be offered the fan back, making stars sparkle in his eyes, “Oh, yeiii!”

San huffed, pulling one corner of his mouth higher into a half-smile. “How could I ever say no to you?”, the warrior shook his head before pecking his cheek.

“I see that the goddess of love has done quite a job”, San’s father taunted, making San groan. Like a father with his son for real. “I am happy to be able to attend your wedding.”

“I am happy you are here too, father”, San smiled, longing for Wooyoung’s hand to hold again.

The preparations for the wedding were as lively as ever. It was planned even more grand than the first one – people from all over the world invited, of course only with safety regulations. The main hall was already decorated. They had chosen the hall down to the garden side as they planned to do the ceremony itself in the half open to have the trees of the garden around. Of course, they could have waited until it was a bit warmer too and married later the year, but both boys were already restless. There was no way they could wait another year – and if it meant that they would marry beneath the snowfall. San had seen the decoration there already. It was stacked with roses of the garden and pink bands filling the space in the ceiling, hanging down the chandeliers in a celebrating manner.

“What is the schedule for the next days?”, San’s father asked, helping a worker swiftly who passed by with a pillar balancing on his shoulders. He fixed his posture with a practiced tap on his back, giving the surprised man a smile as carrying must have been so much easier now.

“The next days will be full of preparing this”, San mused, pulling Wooyoung close, “Then we will focus on dance practice and fitting for our attire. It will be quite eventful”, San said while looking deeply into Wooyoung’s eyes.

Wooyoung loved it whenever San was this close to him, when he was able to catch the universe in his irises. A warm hand laid on Wooyoung’s cheeks, a thumb caressing over the skin lovingly. San was so lost in Wooyoung’s eyes. So eager to kiss him and show everyone that this gorgeous human belonged to him. But it would be improper. And although they had already done so multiple times, also in public, San wanted to restrain himself if needed. It was only a few days anyways; he tried to keep it courtly. When it was just the two of them, San could not hold back anyways.

Wooyoung nuzzled into San’s hand with a content smile, “I want to pick some flowers tomorrow, so the bouquets consist of flowers from the surroundings”, Wooyoung challenged San with a playful gaze, “You’d come with me?”

“Of course!”, San stated instantly, making everyone else fall into a light giggle. Watching those two lovebirds was quite the entertainment after all.

Winter was not as prominent anymore. A few flowers swayed with their colours through the grey grass. There weren’t many at this time of the year, but Wooyoung was happy crouching to get those crocus and snowdrops. Sometimes he found some bellflowers and primroses in-between. With some twigs of almost blooming almond trees, he put together the prettiest bouquet in his hands. They were already full of flowers and a basket with the finished ones – tied together.

“Wooyoung!”

When the prince looked over his shoulder, he couldn’t identify who stood before him. The number of flowers in San’s hands was insane, covering his upper body completely.

“What are you planning with all those?”, Wooyoung chuckled, almost dropping his freshly plucked flowers as he tried to cover his laugh behind his hand.

The warrior stretched his neck from behind to see over the white and violet blossom.

“I am gifting them to the prettiest person in this kingdom.”

“Only this kingdom?”, Wooyoung smirked and put the flowers in his basket while walking over, closing the distance to his fiancé.

“The whole world!”, San said, enchanting Wooyoung with his charming words.

Wooyoung’s smile was unerasable, tiptoeing to steal a kiss from his San.

“Still following your mother’s advice?”, Wooyoung longed for San’s neck, intertwining his fingers behind it.

“She’s a wise woman”, San tried to hold the flowers lower so he could get another kiss from Wooyoung. The flowers were quickly squeezed into one hand, making the prince squeak as San put an arm around his hip.

Their bodies touched, a feeling of warmth and safety spreading. Wooyoung deepened their kiss, laying a hand on San’s cheek.

“That is prohibited, my prince.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes as he ended their kiss, giving his servant a sigh.

At the exasperate expression, Yeosang giggled, “Sorry, continue.” The boy was standing shoulder to shoulder with Jongho, the two of them had also volunteered to help out with getting flowers. Wooyoung eyed the fingers touching occasionally between them, but let it be. That was something to discuss with Yeosang another day.

“Guess we have to go back to work then”, Wooyoung almost felt the stare of San on his skin. The prince wiped with his index finger over San’s lips, “Later”, he promised in a whisper, making San smile like a teddy bear.

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“Aren’t you too good to me?”, Wooyoung asked, eyes droopy while his cheek leaned in one of his hands on the table. He watched San’s lips pull into a grin, before he let his grey eyes wander up to San’s dark brown ones.

“Open up”, San said and fed Wooyoung another strawberry biscuit. Their eyes lingered on each other’s lips for minutes, not being ashamed of staring and making it obvious how much they both wanted it.

“I don’t think that there’s anything that will ever be too good for you. You deserve the world.”

The days where Wooyoung had slept for weeks, had not eaten and looked like a ghost passing the castle’s walls had long passed by. His bones were not protruding his skin anymore, made him look less sick as the sweet caramel toned skin had come back. San loved to see Wooyoung like that. A part of him had wished that Wooyoung had been there when he had woken up back then after that gruesome fire. Had wanted his angel to be there and hold his hand when he opened his eyes. It wasn’t Wooyoung’s fault that it went the other way around – Wooyoung sometimes got so angry with himself that he couldn’t be there for San the way he had been here for him. Especially when it was just the two of them, San noticed Wooyoung asking about his injury, tracing the scar on his rips so often. San was alright – it had all healed well. By the time Wooyoung had woken up, he had been completely recovered.

Maybe San should be thankful that heaven chose that way for them, otherwise he would have not been able to care for Wooyoung the way he did. He had needed to stay strong for both of them when Wooyoung was still in his slumber. He had needed the strength.

They were both in the winter garden. What once burdened them with memories was long forgotten. They were alone, chuckling quietly in their own world. Only Yeosang chimed in occasionally, to ask if they needed anything.

The table had biscuits, tarts, and steaming soup. Two pink porcelain cups with strawberry tea sat in the middle on a large white tablecloth, dangling to their feet on the edges.

It all seemed forgotten as Wooyoung leaned closer, holding San’s face carefully as he kissed cream off the corner of San’s lips. A ravishing fire haunted San when the plumb lips graced his like the touch of a ghost. Fleeting and yet there with purpose. San was eager to turn it into something everlasting though, clasping Wooyoung’s hands before deepening their kiss until Wooyoung sighed into it.

As soon as they placed distance between them, Wooyoung drew his hands towards his chest, smiling a bit dreamily at the speed his heart went. Those intimate touches still left nervous traces on Wooyoung, yet with San, he felt safe. He couldn’t wait until they were finally married.

“You are the cutest being in this entire kingdom”, San said while brushing Wooyoung’s hair away, leaving his palm to cup his cheek.

“And you are the most beautiful, caring man in this entire world”, Wooyoung chuckled, putting his cheek on his resting arm, watching San from below.

“Unfair!”, the warrior exclaimed, eyes and mouth wide but happy, “I only gave you one compliment. You can’t counter with two!”

Wooyoung cackled, hiding his face in his arms before straightening up with the sweetest of high-pitched chuckles, “You are unbelievable.” His long black hair fell into his face as it laid so naturally today. A bit like he had just woken up, combed it and left it as it was. San was looking forward to see this kind of Wooyoung every day when he opened his eyes.

San kept eye contact with Wooyoung so intently, as if they held his whole world. And they did.

His eyes were a grey storm, something that reminded San of the sea that laid not far from his hometown. They felt grounding though, like they could keep a sailor from drowning. San liked to draw those conclusions and links. Wooyoung was enchanting. It made San believe that he could never be separated from him again in his life. At this point San couldn’t even believe that at some point in their life it had even happened. How did his younger self let them get separated like that?

San swore by all his ancestors that it would never happen again. Here was where San belonged. With Wooyoung.

“I am so in love with you, Park Wooyoung”, Wooyoung blushed healthily, his fingers twitching towards a fan that was not there. A grin bloomed on San’s face as he knew that Wooyoung would hide his face if he could. He knew him so well.

Instead Wooyoung sighed, accepting the way his face burned a deep red as he looked at San with a shy smile, “I am so in love with you too, Choi San. I will make you the happiest.”

San’s grin changed into a half-smirk. All cheeky as he poked Wooyoung’s nose, “That will prove to be difficult, as I already am the happiest.”

Their chats went on like this until the sun dipped behind the horizon. Their hands were connected over the lights of the candles that Yeosang had lit for them at some point, staring into their faces glowing in the orange of its flame when they slowly leaned into each other until their stomachs turned into a resembling fire over kissing in the darkness of the night.

One more week.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

One hand raised, imagining San’s hand holding it tightly, as the other was in a half-circle in front of him. The steps felt natural as he swayed left and right in front of a mirror. He arched his back a bit when he lifted his chin, bathing in the feeling San gave him watching from the other side of the room. They both wore a white blouse, sleeves puffed at its ends. A little bow held the front together, although San’s ribbon was opened, threads hanging to the black belt holding the pants tight on his upper waist.

Wooyoung hummed a common melody for dance, twirling around himself. The ends of his strong ponytail whipped in his nape, making him pull his nose up at the tingling sensation.

San’s hair was a mess on his forehead. Kind of like the nest of a bird; it wrapped around his head, falling into his eyes. From their old days Wooyoung knew that San must have not been awake long, the lack of styling in his hair was always a giveaway for that. He wondered if he would get to see San like that a lot from now on.

“Do you remember this?”, Wooyoung asked, hugging his own shoulders and crouching down before he stretched his body long, spinning until he grew dizzy and until he felt the familiar warm hand pressing against his back. Wooyoung laid his weight into San’s hold like the choreography demanded of them.

The warrior had an amused glint in his eyes as he looked down at Wooyoung in his hold. “I’d never forget. You made me look like a fool at the festival.”

Wooyoung gave the expression back, getting out of San’s embrace as it knocked on the door of the little dance room. It didn’t look quite different from their working space, wooden walls, parkette floors.

“You are a great dancer, San. Stop talking nonsense.”

San folded his arms behind his head, watching as Wooyoung stopped in front of the door, “Next to you, I am a formless blob.”

Wooyoung huffed, “An adorable one. And by the way – I have danced with far worse.” The shrug helped nothing against San’s jealousy. It was short-lived, yet something sour burning in his chest.

“Oh, Yeosang!”, Wooyoung greeted while San walked up to the door too, “Thank God, it’s you! I already feared that your father wou- Instructor Kang! What a pleasure to see you again after those years!!”

For people who knew Wooyoung better, it was obvious that he was caught off guard as his voice climbed three octaves higher.

Behind Yeosang appeared a taller but as lean man,  hair already grey as the lids of his eyes had grown heavier over the years. His gaze didn’t seem as awake and attentive anymore, yet not any less strict. It was his doing that Wooyoung was still able to recite the most uncommon poetry to this day.

“My pleasure, Prince Wooyoung. Lord San”, Instructor Kang spoke with a bow. “You two have grown to be quite some men.”

San chuckled when Wooyoung grew flustered. The prince rarely lost his voice, but Kang was still Kang, their teacher and Instructor for years. The reverence would never cease.

Yeosang took off his father’s jacket, while the men went on, “After all the gossip going through Azalea, it’s good to see you both safe and sound. Horrendous news have been wandering through the kingdom that I didn’t want to give my ear to. After all, you two were my students – hearing about what happened hurt my heart.”

Wooyoung reached out to grab Kang’s hand as the old man looked like he needed that confirming touch that Wooyoung was there. That San was there and that after all bad events that had happened last year, that they were still doing better than people talked about.

“And on a better note”, Kang squeezed Wooyoung’s hand tightly, “I have heard of the engagement and the wedding. Such a joyful event in-between all the darkness looming over the royal house. It’s truly something to celebrate. I won’t be able to attend by myself sadly because my oldest daughter will be in town with her family. I – however – send my greatest blessings to the royal couple.”

Now it was San who was left with a pounding heart. Royal couple. Had he ever thought about what would happen if he were to marry Wooyoung? San would without doubt be part of the royal family, carrying the insignia of Azalea on his uniforms, addressed with ‘Park’ together with Wooyoung, the prince of the kingdom. Although Wooyoung and San were not in line to reign as long as Seonghwa was there he understood that if anything was to happen to Seonghwa and Hongjoong they would be right after.

“But when you say, you have been called-“, Wooyoung started but left the sentence abruptly for Instructor Kang to finish.

“I certainly hope your dancing still excels after all those years. Let’s see what my former students can do.”

Wooyoung gave him an eager nod, knowing that he had danced at every ball until he couldn’t feel his soles anymore and had tired out every partner at the event until he was doing his circles alone on the dance floor. On the other side, San averted his gaze. Goddess… he was doomed.

Left and right never proved to be that difficult.

Whenever San danced under Kang’s instruction, he felt like a little boy getting his very first dance lesson. The old man swiped his forehead, trying to not look as troubled as he tried to show Wooyoung and San how to dance to the music that it was supposed to play at their wedding.

“I am bad at this”, San frowned, taking a step back, a warm flood embracing his heart as Wooyoung cackled at his comment.

“You are not”, Wooyoung had his hand risen to hide his smile, turning to Kang, “Can we switch?”

Instructor Kang had a tired smile on his lips, “Is Wooyoung still the person leading?”

Instructor Kang had always tried to make San the one leading, had said that their body types just fit those roles better. But it would not work out, no matter how often they tried to do better. To do it the way Kang wanted it. It seemed like he was not eager to approve and give up. San should lead, but Wooyoung didn’t wait for his answer, taking San’s hands to place them on his body. Wooyoung’s soft voice counted the rhythm and San felt like a stone had been taken from his feet. His steps flowed like he was wandering through a calm stream of water. Elegant yet strong. Every step with purpose.

Wooyoung was not even looking at San, watching around to manoeuvre them through the room.

San awaited some critique, a demand for them to stop and correct their steps until San would be in lead. But Instructor Kang stayed silent. Their dancing was flawless. Seeing them dance like that it felt like back then at the moon festival, both wearing white as the moon of the light illuminated their silhouettes. A fairytale they both belonged too.

“Don’t you think we will look good dancing like that?”, Wooyoung pouted, coming to a halt to face Instructor Kang.

“I think you two are just made for each other”, Kang said, reaching for the music box. A lovely jingle sounded, bittersweet in the otherwise silence. Wooyoung nodded with a smile, knowing that he agreed. The prince turned towards San, taking up the dance again. Sometimes Wooyoung patted San’s shoulder to signal that he wanted to twirl. It was a short-lived separation because San had always been fast to pull Wooyoung close again. The prince would always find himself pressed against San’s broad chest again in the blink of an eye.

The couple kept swaying from left to right. Their eyes never strayed from each other, not even when Kang had long taken his leave with his son, letting them in their own little refugee of togetherness.

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“Hold still.”

“My arms are going to fall off if I stay any longer than this, Yeosang”, Wooyoung whined as there was the burning sensation of strained muscles in his biceps. Yeosang was lacing his dress up in the back and since Wooyoung’s hair had gotten quite long again, he had to hold it up so it wouldn’t cover his shoulders.

“I am done in a second-“

“A second is too loooong.”

Yeosang pulled the lace tight, making Wooyoung gasp at the motion. “All done. Now stop whining, my Prince. You should be excited to try on your wedding dress.”

Wooyoung sighed, looking himself up and down in the mirror. The dress he formerly had chosen for the first wedding had been burnt in the castle back in summer, so he had to get another one. His mother had thought that he would go for something similar, but Wooyoung had changed his mind, straying from the ever glowing white to some colour.

The fabric laid perfectly around his curves, wrapping around his skin like soft petals. Wooyoung’s hands were finally rescued by Yeosang’s who put the hair together with a needle, simulating the updo Wooyoung would have on the big day.

The lack of hair showed his shoulders and collarbones more, making Wooyoung’s heart pound. What would San say? What if San didn’t like it? If he thought Wooyoung was ugly and didn’t want to marry him anymore…?

Stupid, he tried to remind himself, but the doubt was always there.

It was the day before the wedding. Wooyoung hadn’t seen San since almost a day now and he knew they would stay separated for the rest of the time until the ceremony too. All Wooyoung actually wanted to do though was to run to San and show him the dress; asking him if he liked it. If Wooyoung was pretty.

“How do you feel?”, Yeosang asked as Wooyoung stayed suspiciously quiet looking at his reflection.

“Like I will suffocate any minute.”

Yeosang’s eyes blew wide, “Have I tied it too strong-“

“No such thing”, Wooyoung shook his head, giving Yeosang a quivering smile, “I always wanted to marry San, but now that it is happening, I feel like I can’t breathe anymore. I am so excited. So nervous. So scared.” The prince picked around his white pearl necklace, watching his Adam’s apple move when he swallowed hard. “It will feel so different.”

“Will it though?”

The question got Wooyoung out of his trance. Would it not? But they would be married. San would be his husband from now on. It was meant to be different.

Yeosang shook his head, “I have known you and Lord San for a long time now. I know that neither of you will change. In contrary, I think that your union will only help making you both more yourself. I sometimes feel like you both are meant to be a pair. That there is no existing without the other.”

Wooyoung had a little smile for his servant’s words. He was right after all. Was there a day Wooyoung was not reminded of San when they had been apart?

And as if Wooyoung’s inner turmoil did not make him nervous enough already, he was able to hear the whispers from the other side of the mirror; he knew that San was not far. It was a small room with two doors. Most of the time it was used by the royal family for fitting of newly tailored outfits, but for the occasion they had pushed the big mirror into the middle of the room, using the giant mirror as room divider. There was nothing to be seen from the other side, yet Wooyoung knew that at the same time he was trying on his dress, San would be on the other judging his own fit.

Did San feel as nervous as he did?

“Can you leave me alone?”, Wooyoung inquired, which made Yeosang frown, but he agreed anyways, taking all his tools with him to leave the prince alone with his dress.

In the meantime – right at the other side of the mirror – San was sliding his arms into the light brown jacket’s sleeves that Yunho and Mingi held up for him.

“Your shoulders are so stiff”, Mingi huffed, pushing his thumb into some knots under his skin, making San dip his head to the side to open up more space.

“I can’t help it”, San grunted as Mingi got him to relax a bit, “I am marrying the most perfect boy on earth and have to impress him. Imagine what disgrace it would be if Wooyoung comes to the altar and does not look flabbergasted.”

“Stop overthinking”, Yunho murmured, flattening out San’s shirt and pushing it in his pants, “Wooyoung loves you and your outfit is gorgeous. Wooyoung would tell you to not even waste a second of doubt. It will all be perfect.”

San wanted it to be perfect. It was the least Wooyoung deserved after he almost died in the night before their last wedding. He looked over to the window, where a wooden box stood. The used paper stood out in all directions, the letters he loved so much.

“We are done, what do you think?”

It was a suit San had chosen a long time ago. It was a pastel brown, reminding San of the almonds his persona was named after. Embroidered ornaments covered the jacket and the same-coloured vest beneath. His fingers slid over the details, knowing that Wooyoung would absolutely do the same. The white shirt beneath was covered by a pastel pink scarf, tucked in the vest. Together with the pants in the same brown, it was perfect. He smiled at his reflection a bit, dimples showing as he looked at his hands where a ring would be in no time.

“Wooyoung will love it.”

Because that was everything that mattered to San. Wooyoung needed to like it. What good did it for San to look good if Wooyoung was not enchanted by it.

Yunho went to take the jacket off, but San turned away.

“Actually, I would like to stay and look at it for longer, if that is alright?”

Yunho and Mingi exchanged a glance but shrugged. “That is fine. Call for us when you want to undress.”

San was not used to getting help for something mundane like undressing, but he guessed the wedding suit was something to treat with care.

He looked how his back looked in the suit, an approving smile on his lips when they left. San let out a sigh, putting a hand to his chest. It was racing.

The thought of standing at the altar tomorrow in that very suit waiting for Wooyoung made San so nervous. He didn’t know what to expect of tomorrow, even though everyone had gone through the schedule with him over and over again.

San glanced towards the box with letters again, walking to get them. Since he had been separated from Wooyoung he had resigned to read through the letters Wooyoung had sent him throughout the years. In a sense it gave San comfort. Reading his lover’s words was a good diversion from the crippling fear he felt for the next day.

When he took out one of the letters, he saw the royal insignia that had always greeted him so excitingly all those years back. But just when San opened the envelope, he realised that this was the last letter Wooyoung had send him. He had just gotten it mere days before he was about to leave for the royal family. He was glad in hindsight that they had been late for leave, because otherwise he would have missed the arrival of Wooyoung’s pigeon.

San’s eyes flew over the words, his smile turning in a frown reading the letters. Now that he read it, it felt like Wooyoung had not been well, had he? His trembling fingers – nervous for his wedding – let the paper slip, halfway falling beneath the mirror.

“Oh shoot”, San cursed, reaching for it, but what he didn’t expect was another hand, elegant and slim, to reach for it faster, making San stumble in shock.

He crashed into the mirror, the heavy piece floundering as San ran to the side of it to stabilise it more easily. The last thing San needed a day before his wedding was seven years of bad luck. Thanks to his good physique San was somewhat able to hold the weight and push it up to a stand. Good thing he had closed his eyes in the exhausting act of power as he would have let go of the mirror if he had seen.

The mirror was turned sideways now, revealing what laid behind and it took San’s breath as he was met eye to eye with Wooyoung. A white gloved hand was pressed against his mouth, eyes wide in shock as the other hand held the letter.

San gasped seeing Wooyoung but before he was able to ask if he was alright, San took Wooyoung’s whole form in, seeing the flowing white fabric dangling around his ankles. White cloth wrapped around his upper body like the growth of flower petals, while his shoulders and upper arms laid bare. There was a hue of pale pink and orange in the flowers sewn on the long skirt and the ends of the gloves.

San straightened up, body hot as he was unable to process. Wooyoung was so pretty.

“W-wooyoung”, San said embarrassed. They weren’t meant to see each other before the wedding. Let alone in their outfits. He hoped Wooyoung wouldn’t be mad. He had taken the surprise away now.

“San, did you get hurt?”, Wooyoung asked after the initial shock, taking the hand from his mouth.

“What? No… It was my fault that the mirror almost buried you. I got startled. I didn’t know you were in the same room.”

Wooyoung’s hand wandered towards his chest, staying there, “Don’t fret”, he said, and San wondered if he was able to hear his heartbeat so loud in his chest too.

“Y-you look gorgeous”, San said, a blush forming on his cheeks, “I know I was not meant to see yet. But you look like the peach petals in spring. It’s perfect. You are perfect”, San whispered while Wooyoung’s face went red.

“N-no, y-you look perfect”, Wooyoung stuttered, getting all shy with the moment. He decided to focus on the letter in his hand instead as he couldn’t handle the situation, too shocked with what happened. “What’s that?”

“One of your letters.”

“You still read them?”, Wooyoung asked surprised, running his fingers over the used edges, the fact making him warm and fuzzy.

“I read them whenever I long for you, Wooyoung”, San had closed the distance between them, making Wooyoung look up. He had to suck a deep breath in when San stood so close, looking up the few inches between them, when his happy dimples were so close. San’s hands laid on Wooyoung’s waist, accentuated through the tight laces of his wedding dress.

“You are so pretty. I wish to kiss you so badly”, San whispered, eyes looking for Wooyoung’s.

Wooyoung was not able to hold the eye contact for long though as he still felt the wild blush everywhere on his body.

“N-not yet, San. Tomorrow”, Wooyoung squeaked, not able to handle his heart being on fire like this.

San sighed, taking a step back, “I know. I’m sorry.”

“No, it is fine. I just-“, Wooyoung felt his chest again, closing his eyes, “I’ve been so nervous since last night, I think I can’t take more.”

San had a pained expression on his face, one of comfort though, “I feel the same, love. I couldn’t sleep and I am sure tonight won’t be any different.”

To appease them both, Wooyoung cupped San’s cheek and gave him a little kiss there. San’s skin was so hot, redness spread over them and the bridge of his nose like a drunk sailor.

Wooyoung chuckled. Seeing how much influence he had on the tough warrior. It was always hilarious but also comforting in a way that Wooyoung knew that San would never leave.

“Which one did you read?”, Wooyoung asked then. He was always nosy about what San did when Wooyoung wasn’t there. Learning that he read his letters to pass time was like another love confession to Wooyoung, but also a hymn to their long friendship that both of them had held onto for years.

“Dear my Almond,

The nights are growing as boring as the days. I long for something, my heart does, but I cannot point my finger on it. I don’t know why I am so restless…

Today my parents granted me with news – not so good news, I believe. I am not sure anymore what to feel. I miss you. I feel that. So much. I hope you are doing well. I miss seeing your face, miss your voice albeit it must have changed so much. You must have changed so much.

I talked with Yeosang about it, but since the news have shaken me quite – I will make a grand decision the next days. I hope whenever we see each other again, you won’t mind too much.

In Love, Peaches.”

Wooyoung scoffed. That was the last one he had sent before San had arrived. “Your voice really changed a lot.”

“Did it?”, San asked, purposely keeping his voice low to emphasise. Wooyoung gave San a light slap on his shoulder, making the warrior laugh.

San asked silently for the letter back, his eyes flying over the words that he knew in his sleep already. He had read them all like a goodnight story. He was quite certain that if held at sword’s edge he would be able to recite them fully. His head must have soaked up the words like a sponge throughout the years. But as he read it again, he frowned. Back then San had read it with a smile just because it was Wooyoung’s letter, but as so often, the content didn’t seem that joyful.

“Can I ask you something, love?”

When San looked up, he found Wooyoung looking at him intently. Like so often their gazes lingered on each other.

“Go ahead.”

San swallowed with difficulty, not sure how he should ask. Not sure if it was of any importance. “You wrote about bad news and a grand decision – this was just about when we met, what was it?”

The question seemed to surprise Wooyoung, leaving him fidgeting with his fingers for a bit. “When my parents told me that they arranged a marriage with a noble, they withheld who it was. Or I didn’t want to listen further. I was mad. Felt betrayed. The thought of marrying someone else was atrocious to me. I couldn’t bear it.”

San’s eyebrows twitched at a certain word, “What do you mean ‘someone else’? Who did you want to marry?”

The prince shook his head, his pearl earrings jingling. “You.”

San’s throat felt dry.

Wooyoung fisted a part of his dress’ skirt as the memories drew him back to that very specific day, “There had always been more. I just never knew. So, when I heard I was about to marry a stranger. Someone who wasn’t you…”, Wooyoung took the needle out of his hair, the black waves falling to his collarbones like a little ocean pooling on his skin. They had grown so long since San had arrived nearly a year ago. “I have known that you loved my long hair. So, when I learned that my hand was promised to another man…”, Wooyoung took his hair, pulling it long while his other hand ran the needle over it, “I cut it.” Wooyoung lowered his hands and head, while his voice faded into a whisper, “So that nobody else… could find it beautiful.”

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The ringing of bells got Wooyoung out of his trance. Servants were hustling from one side to the other, somewhere in-between the chaos he heard Yeosang’s voice. He couldn’t believe it was time. The dress sitting so perfectly on his skin, white laces around his figure. There where hands in his hair, putting flowers and silver, everything to make him shiny, to make this day his.

“It’s about time, Wooyoung.”

The dark voice made Wooyoung turn with big eyes. His father – the king – leaned in the door frame to the fitting room where Wooyoung had been prepared for the ceremony nonstop for hours. He had a smile on his lips, comforting. Happy. It helped Wooyoung breathe.

He dismissed the servants with a wave of his hands, only Yeosang staying behind.

“You know that all those years back, Seonghwa was quite as nervous as you. A bundle of chitters as he changed the jacket of his suit every ten minutes.”

“Hwa was nervous?”, Wooyoung asked with big eyes, trying to focus on his father and not where they were about to go.

“Of course he was”, the king gave Wooyoung a sudden hug, that the prince only welcomed, clasping to his father’s back like a little child. Sometimes Wooyoung didn’t feel like the adult he was. If he was honest, he didn’t feel like it quite often. Whenever he was with his dad, he felt a bit lighter, a bit like all those years under his care. And although Wooyoung and San would continue to live in the castle, he would now be a married man.

When they ended the hug, Wooyoung pulled his hands to his body, shoulders rising in a deep breath, slumping down again. Warm hands covered them quickly.

“Especially a royal wedding is no piece of cake, son. I am well aware of that. And I will stay at your side. I am the happiest today nevertheless, as you found someone you truly love.”

That made Wooyoung giggle a bit, loosening up his tense muscles.

The prince wondered what his father must have seen at this moment. His second son in a beautiful white dress and about to get married to a good friend’s son. Someone trustworthy and chivalric. Someone who took his heart away. Wooyoung would be his and San would be Wooyoung’s for all eternity. What feeling it must spark in the king, seeing his youngest son having grown in all his glory?

“You look gorgeous, Wooyoung. You are glowing and that you’re nervous is a good sign that you care. San will make you happy. I am certain.”

“I am certain too, dad.”

The king nodded with a smile, waving for Yeosang who got the veil of its stand. Wooyoung’s heart fluttered as he saw the long white dipping into deep orange at its ends that dragged over the floor. Yeosang put the veil into Wooyoung’s updo, held by the pins that had been put there in advance. His breaths were tumbling in his chest, everything inside of him was bouncing and shaking. But when it all laid around him so perfectly, like a curtain to his dress, Wooyoung’s lower lip quivered. He looked beautiful today.

“I want no tears today”, the king said as he offered his arm to take for Wooyoung, “My beautiful son should not shed a tear looking that marvellous.”

“I love you, dad”, Wooyoung snivelled, blinking the blurriness away that burnt in his grey eyes.

“I love you more, Wooyoung”, he pulled Wooyoung’s head close, putting a little kiss to his temple, “And I will never stop loving you.”

Yeosang had a bright smile on his lips as he held the bouquet of pink roses in his hands. “For you”, he said offering them to his prince, “So you can look even more magical today.” The servant had tears in his eyes. He would not cry, but Wooyoung knew how much it meant to Yeosang that Wooyoung was marrying today. And it meant so, so much to Wooyoung too that he was there for this very moment.

“Thank you, Yeosang.” The flowers smelled like spring, “Truly.”

The boy clad in a white suit bowed to the prince. A bit longer than usual. A bit longer than necessary, but Wooyoung knew to give him a second more to hide his tears.

The doors opened and Wooyoung was greeted by sunlight. He heard people chat from afar. There was quite a path to go to the ceremony hall, down the stairs passing the celebrating guards, already speaking their congratulations to the young prince. Wooyoung really had a hard time not breaking out in tears. It proved to be an almost impossible task as they stood in front of the big hall, the guards outside opening the wings at the same time.

At first Wooyoung was blinded by light. Only the sun filling his eyes. The first thing he saw when they adjusted was the pink petal sailing in front of his face. He lifted his head, the crown of his veil shimmering in silver light, like the glitter of crystals when he looked for the petal rain that had started over his head.

He completely ignored the silence that fell over the hall, the way guests gasped at Wooyoung’s beauty. There was nothing for Wooyoung but the feeling of familiarity. Servanst must have been positioned on the roof to make the petals sail down like soft rain. His grey eyes were overtaken by the pastel pink, a mix of spring and… Wooyoung’s eyes widened.

Almonds.

Through the petals his eyes had followed the white carpet laid out to the front. The altar was decorated in white clothes and roses but what made Wooyoung’s heart still was San standing at its end.

While everyone else seemed to be in such awe of Wooyoung, forgetting their etiquette and just staring, San gave Wooyoung the brightest of smiles.

‘I have been waiting.’

Wooyoung did the first step forward, his father following him at his side. Music was playing and the people stood from their seats. Usually he’d look left and right, curious who came, where his friends and family were situated. But all Wooyoung could look at was San, a smile slowly growing on his face as his heavy veil dragged over the floor. Petals collected in his hair, on his shoulders and his veil but he kept going further as he passed the recollection of every spring Wooyoung had spent with San until their very first.

While he thought it would take forever to reach him, it was just a split of a second before Wooyoung’s hand was taken over so carefully by San. He had longed for it gracefully as soon as he was in reach, nodding to the king for his permission to lead Wooyoung from now on. A silent plea to give San and Wooyoung his blessings for a last time. But the king would never interject a perfect match.

They had gotten a priest for the ceremony but mostly just for show as the king was the one confirming their union at the end.

Wooyoung couldn’t concentrate. All he saw was San’s dazzling smile. His perfect brown suit, his pretty hair, wonderful face and body. And what laid all beneath that cover of a man. He saw his soul through his eyes, vibrating and glowing.

The priest had already started talking, greeting the guests, when San took Wooyoung’s second hand, holding them softly.

“You look stunning”, San whispered just between the two of them, making Wooyoung’s cheeks hurt from all the happiness.

“From the South to Marigold and the Nothernlands, we have gathered to create a nationwide union”, the priest exclaimed, the guests clapping court-fully to his words. It was an important public event and yet for Wooyoung it felt like his personal fortune. Something so self-indulgent to marry San, that no one but he himself would profit.

“Do you have your vows ready?”

Wooyoung was the first to speak, turning to see if there was Yeosang with the rings somewhere as he knew by heart what he needed to do. He had asked so many times, worried that anything would go awry. Wooyoung gasped in delight as he saw the brown pigeon flutter its wings dutifully. A little white box hung on a band tightly clasped in its beak.

“Who told you where to bring those?”, Wooyoung was in awe as his pigeon landed in the hands San had let go so Wooyoung could greet his friend.

“You’re going to marry him.”

Wooyoung looked to San with wide eyes, “You?”

San smiled, “I knew it would make you happy.”

And it did. If there was any creature on this entire planet helping Wooyoung and San to keep in touch all those years it was this little bird. When Wooyoung took the white box out of its beak it flew off, finding a place on Seonghwa’s shoulder who stood at the side of the altar, already a handkerchief in his hands as the tracks of tears were visible on his face.

The box jumped open in Wooyoung’s hands, revealing two golden rings in a little white pillow. He grinned as he saw the flowers engraved to their names. A telltale to their story being accompanied by the early flowers of spring.

“I vow…”, Wooyoung started, his voice shaking as he took the first ring with Wooyoung’s name out. He felt like toppling over, like his knees giving in his head blackening out. However, all of the nervousness slipped away as San laid his hands on Wooyoung’s waist. It was a light and firm grip on the same time, saying ‘I am here. Look at me’.

And that was what Wooyoung did, looking San deeply in his eyes as he spoke the words he had carefully crafted at night when San was asleep.

“… to be the light in your darkest days. To guide and support where you can’t yourself. I promise to love you like the sun loves the flowers. Dedicated to make them grow and keep them healthy. I promise that after all we went through, I will never fall out of love with you as it would not be possible to betray the goddesses who have brought us together like that. I love you so much Choi San that sometimes the thought of losing you leaves me so utterly broken.”

Wooyoung cleared his throat as he took San’s hand, not able to look him in the eyes.

“I want to dance with you at midnight to a soft rhythm. I want to laugh with you wherever we are. I want to hold your hand like this for forever.”

San squeezed his hand to support him.

Wooyoung’s eyes cast up, the grey sparkling so wonderfully in the lights. A perfect match with his whole silver and golden jewellery on his body. He looked like a prince. He looked like a god. He looked like everything San had ever wanted.

“I promise to never leave your side.” Wooyoung slid the ring on his finger, giving San a little blush but nothing that could eradicate his wide smile.

San was eager to give Wooyoung his ring too. Other than his other half, he had tried to prepare a speech, but utterly failed. Whenever Yunho had asked him to just write down whatever he would say to Wooyoung it ended up being a five-letter long poem. There was no way San could keep himself short when it came to his favourite person.

“Now it is my turn”, he announced, the ring taken from the box. He smiled to Wooyoung who watched San nervously, eager to find out what he had to say to him.

San looked like a prince himself today, making Wooyoung’s feelings bloom from anew.

“I have not much to say to you, because I believe that everything has already been said. In an attempt to write you a vow I always kept tearing up, because you are the most wonderful person I know and marrying you means more to me than my own life. I have fallen in love with the boy who has told me I am pretty when we were nothing more than children. Have fallen in love with the boy always beating me in a horse race and in chess. My heart is lost to the boy whose name is engraved next to mine on a lonely tree in these gardens. Sometimes I wonder when this all started…”

San slid the ring onto Wooyoung’s hand, the prince’s eyes quilling over with tears. Emotional for what San had to say because it was not only a praise to their current days but to every day they ever spent. And what laid in-between San’s words were also the days they hadn’t spent together. The dark time when they thought they had lost each other.

“I want to protect what we have had since we are seven. I have spent eight springs with you, just to lose you for another eight. Every winter I thought of you. Thought that the blossom of peach would bring you around. Because for me those feelings have not started just now. I have told you once and I will tell you again that my feelings are not of coincidence, as I have loved you since our first spring.”

The guests clapped and celebrated when San leaned in for their bonding kiss. San’s soft lips on Wooyoung’s made the prince’s tears find a way over his cheeks. The pink petals still raining onto them like the blossom of spring. It blurred Wooyoung’s perception, made him hear the rustling of the early flowers as heavy boots stepped onto them. When San cupped his cheeks to wipe away his tears with his thumb, deepening the kiss, Wooyoung felt the soft hands of a boy in his hair. Lately it felt more than a dream to him than reality when the blossoms had gotten tangled up in his long silky hair just for San to make his very first appearance in his life.

“My apologies, my prince.”

“I am no threat!! I saw you struggle with the flowers in your hair and wanted to help.”

And with every word his memory could foster up, it dawned on Wooyoung how much weight San’s words proposing to him had. How much they meant for San as he had repeated them in front of whole Azalea.

“Isn’t it like the almond blossoms falling from the trees?”, the young boy looked to the prince, “The wind caressing through your long hair – doesn’t it make you feel free?”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened at his words and both boys kept staring at each other for some minutes. None of them eager to break the contact.

“And on top of that all, my prince”, the strange boy said, giving Wooyoung a sudden smile full of sunshine and dimples, “I believe you look rather beautiful with it.”

Perhaps Wooyoung had stopped thinking about his hair as bothersome. Maybe it had been as lovely as the boy that almond’s blossom had brought into his life at the age of seven had said. Maybe for Wooyoung his hair had become something reserved only for his dear San as the days had dragged on and the little boys had kept chatting with each other as if they had known each other since they were born.

“Such a compliment”, Wooyoung giggled openly, hands buried inside the petals next to him on the ground.

Small San smiled, “I just wanted to be nice.” The boy huffed as a petal landed in his hair, picking it out rashly to put it in Wooyoung’s hair.

“Ah, don’t do that! It’s already hard enough to pick them out! Leave that, leave that…”

“San.”

“What?”, the prince looked up dumbfounded, having enough from the strange boy who put flowers in his hair.

“My name is Choi San”, San smiled as Wooyoung took flight, jumping up to bring some distance between them.

“I am Prince Park Wooyoung”, Wooyoung said, shaking out his hair but pouted as the wind tangled even more flowers into his strands.

“You are pretty, Prince Park Wooyoung.” San’s eyes were genuine, like the emotion only children could harbour. Something so pure, innocent and honest.

Wooyoung laughed again, this time hiding it with his hand. He dipped his head to the side, the long silken hair falling to the ground, black on pink.

“You’re saying I am pretty and you gave me flowers”, his eyes went up in crescents, “Maybe you’ll marry me one day.”

Seeing Wooyoung like that, San believed that never before in his seven years had he realised what spring meant. Not before he had felt his heart beat like that. Warmth laying around him like a coat. For him it felt like love had ignited something he’d call their first spring.

“Yeah”, the boy had answered, never leaving Prince Wooyoung out of his sight, “… maybe I’ll… do just that.”