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Chapter Text

The Waning Moon was no Wilted Rose with its extravagant decor and private tables, live music flowing throughout the entire establishment which was packed full with lofty lords and men who thought themself more than the common folk. Yet despite that, hidden amidst the deep mahogany, the vibrant tapestries and shining crystals, there was the same debauchery one would expect to find in a dingy tavern in the slums of Onyan. 

Rooms upstairs to drown out the extramarital affairs or the beatings of a man missing his payment to the loan sharks. The people there were the same - albeit richer than your average drunk, indulging in the privacy of the gentlemen's club. Same vices and same disgrace. 

All things Jeno was used to. 

He sat at the bar, his index finger trailing around the rim of his glass as he eyed the clientele. 

The night was young yet Jeno didn’t want to spend it surrounded by a bunch of stuck up drunks who wouldn’t ever give him a second thought if they passed him by the street. His clothes were uncomfortable in the way they mimicked the upper class; too many frills and pinched too tight around his waist, wrists, neck and calves. It made him feel stupid. But it made him feel far more stupid knowing that everyone else could tell exactly what he was.

Because this wasn’t everyday wear. This wasn’t anything more than an outfit all the other prostitutes wore, making it easier for the guests to find them as they stood out so much in their fake opulence, mimicking what they could never attain.

He had been approached countless times already, enjoying himself in the way he could get all his suitors drunk before they could drag him up to one of the countless rooms upstairs. In their daze, Jeno would feel them up and rob them with a sleight of hand, the fools never the wiser that they had been robbed by the fair beauty they had tried to bed. But Jeno wasn’t here for some petty theft - that was only a side hustle for some loose change that wouldn’t matter in the end. 

What he was here for was one man and one man only, his eyes seeking him out for hours. If he didn’t show up then Jeno would have to either hunt him down, or try his luck tomorrow. But given that his target had a hefty price on his head, the risks of waiting around were far too high to accept. 

He was meant to be here tonight, though. So Jeno waited.

And waited. 

And he finally saw him. 

Everything that followed after was easy, coming to Jeno like second nature. Deceive, seduce and dispose. 

He liked to make it quick and clean, spilling as little blood as he could. 

The room was booked for the whole night, and by the time anyone would come up all evidence would be gone. 

Easy enough.

“I heard they found a Taesan diplomat dead in a ditch,” Johnny said, taking a seat at Jeno’s table. 

He slept like a baby after his previous job, coming into the Wilting Rose fresh and ready for the day ahead. Gone were the tacky clothes and saccharine smiles to lure in depraved older men with more cash than sense, replaced with Jeno’s usual attire - the colours muted and the fabrics breathable, loose and modest. 

“Oh no,” Jeno deadpanned. “Do they know who did it?”

Johnny chuckled, shaking his head. “Looks like a standard robbery gone wrong. Seems he was intoxicated as well. Talk about irresponsibility within the Taesan courts.”

“Unfortunate. Hopefully the Regent of Taesan doesn’t take it personally,” Jeno mused, his nails rapping against the wooden table. As nonchalant as he acted, Jeno could never quite push down the unease that came with disposing of a Taesan national. Of course, killing his own people wasn’t by any means easier, but it didn’t fill him with such dread. Most Onyan targets were common scum anyway, though in that sense were they any different than himself?

Taesan nationals however… They were different, even if they were corrupt and unjust, greedy and lecherous. A high ranking official, too, was risky.

One wrong move and there might be nothing to stop the Regent from deciding he had enough of his pesky neighbours, dealing with them swiftly. Onyan was a completely landlocked nation that had originally been an autonomous region of Taesan but slowly grew further and further apart. The government had all been appointed by Taesan’s monarchs and were, to put it very lightly, disliked by the people of Onyan who sought true independence from the kingdom. Yet even then, despite being appointed by the old monarchs many years ago, the government wasn’t favourable towards Taesan in the slightest. 

As it stood, Onyan’s government was an utter mess, neither truly independent, nor truly loyal to the crown. 

Jeno wasn’t entirely versed in the geo-politics surrounding his home and his neighbours, but he knew enough to understand that their relationship was a tender, fragile thing. Taesan would never really let Onyan go, desperate to keep it under its watchful eye and ironclad grasp, relying on the crops the fertile land produced too much to grant it freedom. Onyan, on the other hand, didn’t want to be shackled by Taesan, but it also didn’t want to lose the safety net that came from its longest standing trade partner. 

After all, Taesan was spread out far across the coast, its soil difficult to work with. Making it worse were the far stretches of mountains, high, jagged and treacherous. Losing Onyan would hurt them more than it would hurt Onyan, though from what Jeno pieced together from the countless monologues from Johnny, Onyan stood to lose far more than most people realised if true independence were to ever be reached. Not that Jeno really paid his frequent political ramblings much attention, his mind not really built for that type of mess. 

Majority of the Onyan population considered true independence a goal, even if it would take another century to achieve. Johnny, however, thought independence was stupid. Nevertheless, he agreed that the old powers needed to be gone before they doomed Onyan to a cruel, hopeless fate. 

Either way Taesan wouldn’t let go without a fight. And if it did ever come to a fight, they would win by a landslide. 

So all it took was one wrong move.

One wrong dead diplomat and Onyan as it was today would be easily swept away, back in the clutch of its estranged sibling. 

“From what I heard, he really doesn’t care,” Johnny assured, lounging himself back casually in the rackety wooden chair. “The Taesan royal court seems like an absolute mess, if you ask me. A Regent that’s close to being booted off the throne by his dear little nephew, and a bunch of advisors that can’t decide whether that’s a good or bad thing. That and a few contenders trying to take the throne for themselves via loopholes and popularity votes. Fascinating times we live in, huh, Jen?”

“If you say so.”

“What, you don’t have a say?”

“It’s not like I really pay attention,” Jeno pointed out. “And you never cared to teach me these things either. At least not properly.”

“I taught you maths and how to read though! You can’t say I’m a good for nothing sleazebag.”

Jeno snorted, crossing his legs as he mirrored Johnny’s posture. The older man exuded a blinding glee and ease, approachable to seemingly anyone. And in a way he was, even if did basically run the Onyan underworld syndicate by himself. That wasn’t anything to scoff at. But other than that, to the average person Johnny was a successful businessman and a man of the community, often acting on the behalf of the people around him to enact change - be it by fixing up a local school or building new housing - no matter how small.

A man of the people. 

“You’re better off not involving yourself in those things anyway,” Johnny mused, clicking his tongue as he glanced to his side, his gaze lingering over a man who was very keen to listen in on them. Realising that he had been noticed, the startled man cleared his throat and got up from his stool, knowing that some aimless chatter between the two men wasn’t worth putting a mark on his head. With him gone, Johnny looked back to Jeno and resumed. “I’ve got your cash for the job ready. That and your light fingers should last you for a while.”

“I could still do with some more,” Jeno argued, leaning forward as he spoke. 

“You’ve done plenty. Take a break.”

“There’s no way you’re telling me to take a break.”

“Well I am.”

“Johnny-”

The older man sighed. “Listen, I do have something potentially lined up for you, but you need to wait.”

Intrigued, Jeno cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Johnny confirmed, his voice flat. “It’s a big one.”

“How big?”

“Enough to set you up for life.”

Jeno perked up in his seat, eyes going wide. “You serious?”

“Land and thirty hundred.”

Hearing that, Jeno felt faint. “Land and thirty hundred,” he echoed under his breath, the compensation sounding as if it had come straight out of his dream. “And with your cut?”

“That is with my cut,” Johnny stated. “That’s all yours. No more debt.”

Enough to set him for life. Enough to never have to work a day in his life ever again. 

It was the type of money that would finally free him from a life he had been thrust into unwillingly. His mother died when Jeno was young - five, if he remembered it correctly, but maybe a bit older than that - and his father was a raging gambling addict that only became worse once he became a widower. He took out more loans that he could ever pay back, and then he still took out more from sharks when the banks denied him. 

He died when Jeno was eight. Beaten and bruised, left to bleed out as his son was taken as collateral to be sold to the highest bidder. 

In that case, it was Johnny. 

Despite the circumstances that brought them together, Jeno considered Johnny his older brother. He took care of him and taught him how to survive, making use of him from the moment he could successfully pinch a coin out of a purse and use his puppy eyes to fool his victim. Jeno served a purpose, stealing and swindling and then, once Johnny deemed him old enough, even killing. 

All a means to pay off his own debt to Johnny. Because as much as they cared for each other, Johnny couldn’t simply let him walk without getting his initial investment and interest back tenfold. Johnny was many things: an older brother, a cut-throat boss, and a businessman. At the end of the day, money talks. 

But Jeno still respected Johnny. He still saw him as a good man, saving him from a potentially worse fate than the one he found himself in. Perhaps, if Johnny hadn’t been the highest bidder back then, Jeno might have been long dead. 

“Y-you’re serious?”

“As serious as I can be, Jen,” the older man assured. “No strings attached. But you have to wait; there’s still a few things that need to be ironed out before I can send you out. So sit tight, alright?”

If waiting was all it took to get closer to his freedom, then that’s what Jeno would do. He responded with a firm nod, causing Johnny to laugh.

“Good boy,” he said as he reached over to pat Jeno’s head. At that, the younger rolled his eyes, trying to move away from Johnny’s hand but was ultimately too late to get away in time, his hair now an absolute mess. “You hungry?”

“If you’re offering.”

Johnny smirked, a knowing look on his face. “You’ll bleed me dry, huh?”

Jeno jutted his lips out, eyebrows raised as he directed his strongest weapon at Johnny. “So you won’t spoil me today?” With a flutter of his eyelashes, he delivered the lethal blow. It hadn’t failed him just yet, working on Johnny with a hundred percent success rate. “Okay… I guess I’m not your favourite anymore.”

“Aye! Okay, okay: you won. I’ll get you anything you want. It’s all on me. But you have to finish everything,” Johnny said, raising his hands up in defeat. “I can’t say no to you.”

“I know,” Jeno replied, offering Johnny a cheeky grin in return. “Not here though. I’m thinking of Julie's.”

“We are not going to Julie’s.”

“But you said anything I want.”

Johnny couldn’t argue. He did try to stare Jeno down, but by now the younger was used to his antics, not budging in the slightest. “Fine. Julie’s it is. How about you head out now and I’ll join you? I still have a few things to do here.”

Eagerly, Jeno pushed out his chair and stood up. “I’ll see you soon,” he said, placing a hand over Johnny’s shoulder. “And if you don’t show up and make me pay instead I will get my revenge.”

“I know, I know. Now get moving.”

“Yes boss!”

♤♡◇♧

Jeno is two weeks out of his last job, getting restless as the wait stretches out longer and longer. 

It’s not like he’s broke, but he isn’t entirely swimming in the lap of luxury either. He’s just about making it through with what he has. And though his spoils are better than what he would get working the land, he has enough expenses bleeding him dry that he’s stuck in a never ending cycle of thieving and stressing over his next job.

He does have other jobs on the side, mainly with one of Johnny’s handful of ventures which act as a cover for his constant influx of money. To the untrained eye, Johnny truly is a great businessman - a man the people of Onyan can be proud of. 

For the most part, Johnny’s greatest success of a business was his logistics network, importing and exporting goods under the Haeyeon brand name. From what Johnny had told him, it was a rural village his late grandmother grew up in, now long gone.

Jeno helped with loading and unloading carriages for some extra pay. Sometimes it felt as if there was a hole in his coin pouch; the moment he placed any cash inside, it seemed to vanish into thin air. Rent (which also went to Johnny). Food. Loan. Another loan. Loans inherited from his father. Loans to Johnny. Exponential interests. A debt he was paying off every second of his life. 

Johnny wouldn’t chase him for it, nor did he ever hound Jeno over the money it took to buy him out of a potentially worse fate, but Jeno definitely didn’t want it following him around. Whatever he earned, he gave most of it back. Of course, it pleased Johnny, but even so, he did show concern for Jeno - as an older brother and as a boss. 

What would Johnny do if Jeno died or got too weak to work? Where would he find a replacement just as good as him? Maybe that’s why Jeno’s rent was lower than for the other’s living in the housing lot owned by the business tycoon. Or maybe Jeno just got lucky. 

Nevertheless, Jeno paid as much off his debts as he could.

And then he waited for another job. 

Until one day he could get himself as far away as he could from here. Killing earned him the most, and though he didn’t enjoy it in the slightest, it beat his other options. But even then, when necessary, he would do just about anything. By this point, Jeno has no dignity left, selling his services and body to the highest bidder if it meant getting through another day. 

Sometimes he wondered that, if there was a life after death, would his mother weep for him? Feel disgust? Or would she simply look away, not wanting to see what has become of her son?

Finally, Johnny asks for his time. 

Jeno makes his way over to the Wilted Rose which acts as a base for Johnny’s less legitimate means of gaining capital. He has a large office up the stairs and down the corridor. The view from the outside is picturesque, capturing the mountain range of the neighbouring Taesan. 

Jeno used to love watching the sunset from inside the office as Johnny worked, catching the warm hues melt into the rolling, sharp summits. And whenever he had the chance as a child, given a piece of parchment and crayons as vibrant and colourful like the paints he’d see in expensive supply stores, he would always draw the same scene over and over again. 

Johnny must have had a box full of the exact same drawing from Jeno by the time the youth turned twelve and was deemed too old for arts and crafts. Though as a treat, for his birthday, Johnny would still procure a box of crayons - or even actual, expensive paints - for him for old time’s sake. It was one of Jeno’s rare hobbies so he treasured the gifts.

When he arrived Johnny was sitting at his desk, a glass of amber liquid to his side. He was occupied, his brow set with what Jeno could only describe as concern. The type of look he'd wear when things didn't go quite his way. It must have consumed all of his attention since he didn't notice Jeno’s presence, only meeting him once Jeno knocked on the heavy wooden doors again. 

“You called?” Jeno took a cautious step inside, not needing an invite but not reckless enough to strut inside when Johnny looked the way he did. “Are you busy?”

“I-” Johnny glanced down at a messy pile of papers on his desk. They looked like mail correspondences, his letter knife at his side. He exhaled and quickly collected the parchment, shoving it all into the desk drawer to be dealt with at a later time. “Not anymore. And yes: I called.”

Urged by Johnny’s pointed gaze, Jeno took a seat opposite him. It was a comfortable enough chair though the cushioning was hard. No matter how many times Jeno sat there, it always felt like sitting on two slabs of mildly soft stone. He assumed it was done on purpose. 

“I have a job for you,” Johnny declared. There was a stilted quality to his voice, burnt around the edges. It made Jeno alert, feeling an uneasy twist in his stomach. “The one I mentioned before.”

“Great. What is it?”

Johnny clenched his jaw, his expression conflicted as he looked at Jeno. 

Something serious then.

Dangerous, even.

Dangerous enough for even Johnny to hesitate.

“Is it that bad?” Jeno asked, the question followed by a nervous laughter. He could feel the tension building in his shoulders. “For that payout I guess it would be. I'm guessing I'd be disposing of someone?”

“Quite an important someone,” Johnny added.

“A politician?” 

A diplomat was nothing to scoff at, but one of them dropping dead was nothing compared to a full fledged politician. 

Jeno did have a few stints over the years, but only one involved murder, ridding the world of a leech of a governor. It was a long game which required going undercover for more than just a night. He was expecting the same again.

But for that much money?

“There's been an offer for the Crown Prince of Taesan,” Johnny declared with a sincerity that left Jeno speechless. “Na Jaemin is to be assassinated just before his coronation. That should be this summer once he turns of age.”

The more Johnny said, the less believable his words became to Jeno. The younger man could only sit and stare, his mouth open in shock. 

“The payout makes sense now, doesn't it?” Johnny concluded, joining his hands together. “You'd be set for life.”

Jeno blinked, slowly processing the request. Killing a governor was like killing a bug, squishing it by accident beneath his shoe when compared to snuffing the life out of a monarch. The planning, the logistics, everything that went into orchestrating that was on a completely different scale. If Jeno could pull that off…

But if he didn't? 

“You want me to kill the Prince? As in the Prince of Taesan?”

“There's only one of them, so yes.”

Delirious, Jeno laughed. Johnny knew how to joke around. For a minute there Jeno genuinely believed that he was being serious, but there was no way he wasn't teasing him. A Prince? Jeno? As if that would ever work. 

Johnny really outdid himself this time.

But when Jeno looked up, Johnny wasn't laughing. He remained as he was, somber. 

“Oh… You weren't joking.”

“No, I wasn't,” the older man confirmed.

Jeno swallowed, laughter dying out on his tongue. The gravity of the request now truly hit him, grounding him in place. 

“The Prince?”

Johnny hummed in response. “You'd be acting as his retainer. His previous one has been let go. I don't know the details but it was so sudden that there was no replacement ready,” he explained. “Usually a retainer would be someone close to the family so the Regent sent a request for an aide. Our guy intercepted the correspondence for us. You'll be going.”

“As a royal retainer? Me?”

“You can do it,” Johnny assured. “You've played a butler before, and you know how to behave around these people.”

Sure, a servant for a governor required some discipline and class, but there was no way he’d be able to pull off being a servant for a spoiled royal. Even Jeno wasn’t that delusional. Besides, he doubted that the Prince would be as sleazy as the previously assassinated governor; his dirty tricks might not have the same effect, putting Jeno at a severe disadvantage. 

“So does Karina,” Jeno pointed out, his voice going up a pitch from nerves. He rarely talked back like that, but given the severity of what he was being asked to do, he reacted without thinking. “Have you asked her?”

“She's not right for the job. She's too-” Johnny didn't finish that, holding his words back between his teeth. He sucked in a breath, the airy sound sharp. “Look, it has to be you. You're the only one I can trust with this. Just this one job and you'll never have to do anything I say.”

Jeno chewed on his bottom lip. “Don't sound so sad about it.”

Johnny chuckled, the air between them less tense. “You know I'd miss you. You're like the little brother I never asked for.”

“How sweet. I'll make sure to send you a postcard.”

Johnny grinned. “So you'll do it?”

That wasn't really a question. It wasn't as if Jeno could deny the offer anyway. Financially he couldn't say no, nor could he say no when he looked at Johnny who could only trust Jeno with this. For one reason or another, it could only be Jeno. 

“I'm all alone in there? No support in case things turn sour?”

“We can only get you in,” Johnny assured. “It’s a miracle our guy even breached their tight security.”

“So if anything happens…”

“Nothing will happen,” Johnny assured.

And Jeno trusted every word Johnny said. If he was confident that nothing would go wrong, then nothing would go wrong. Because Johnny had so much faith and sheer trust in him. It had to be Jeno.

So he didn't question it any further, trusting Johnny in return. 

That’s how it always was, after all. Unwavering trust.

It hadn’t hurt him just yet.

“Okay. What do I need to know?”

With a smirk, Johnny replied: “a lot.” 

He opened another set of desk drawers, pulling out a thick envelope and a pile of folded papers. He set them out across the desk, beckoning Jeno to shuffle closer to get a better look. Jeno observed the documents, eyes widening as Johnny slid a wooden tag towards him. It was a form of identification - old and only really used by the upper echelon of society still clinging onto tradition.

“I thought I was going undercover?” Jeno looked at the name engraved into the wood, finding it to be his own.

“You are,” Johnny confirmed. “But with how serious this is we can't have you slipping with something as simple as your name. And I know you've never done that before but- You can't be too safe when dealing with monarchy.”

Jeno hummed, running his thumb across the carefully carved ridges. It was odd, but if Johnny said it was necessary then Jeno didn’t question it. 

“One of the families the monarchs supply their personal staff from are a trusted line of Lee's,” Johnny added. “So the family name stays.”

“Well that makes things easier.” He read the rest of the information, chuckling at his new rank. 

From a common nobody to a trusted royal servant. Quite the promotion. 

“Wouldn’t they realise I’m not one of them though? I thought the whole thing with retainers is that they’re close to the monarchs. Close as in they actually know each other. Loyal and tight like two peas in a pod. Won’t they realise I’m not actually one of them?”

“Don’t think about it too much,” Johnny said, swiftly placing a few papers in front of Jeno. “The Prince has never been close with the Lee side, so even if you were the real deal he wouldn’t know you. And, with how messy things are in the royal court it’s unlikely anyone will say a thing. You’ll need to brush up on a few things though, but from the intel we got, the darling Prince prefers to do things on his own. You’d be less of an advisor and more of a babysitter.”

“Lovely,” Jeno mused, picking up a random parchment. It outlined the Prince’s typical schedule. Wake up, get dressed, breakfast, lessons here and lessons there. Nothing too complicated. Quite a few lessons, really. It seemed most of his time was accounted for in one way or another, so Jeno didn’t have all that much to do anyway. “So I just look after him? No actual retainer duties like administration or advising him on… I don’t know, anything?”

“Yeah,” Johnny replied casually. “Seems he has trust issues.”

“Oh well that fills me with so much ease,” Jeno muttered. “So just… babysit him? To then kill him?” Jeno questioned, eyebrow raised in confusion. “Seems a bit counterintuitive to me.”

“That’s because there’s still more to it,” Johnny stated. “Our guy wants to find out if the Prince has any associates. From what it seems, the Prince is difficult to crack. Not even the Regent doesn’t know who he keeps correspondences with. Try to see if he’s built up any support with politicians - foreign or national. And if he knows about the hit on his head, learn if he has any means of retaliation. If he does, you tell me, alright? It’s just as important as killing him. If he has any close supporters, we need to know.”

“That’s… A lot,” Jeno said, struggling to find better words. This is probably why he should have paid more attention to politics because now he was left clueless. What he could piece together, however, was that someone desperately wanted the Prince gone. The Prince and anyone that would come to his aid. “But then I’m meant to kill him at his coronation?”

“On the day, yes.”

“That’s such a long time from now. And not before then?”

“Correct,” Johnny confirmed. “Unless your cover is blown. That’s the only exception.”

“Right…” 

“But don’t get your cover blown, alright? Coronation is the goal. Don’t do anything drastic until then. Just… keep on the low.”

“Isn’t it more of a risk to infiltrate so early?” Jeno questioned. “It gives him more opportunity to catch onto the fact he’s going to be killed, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Johnny considered. “But it also gives us more chance to pull wool over his eyes. Make him comfortable. Do as he wants. Lull him into a safe sense of security and learn all there is to know about him and his ties. Anything to make him lose focus on any potential plans of retaliation.”

Jeno hummed, looking down at the list of everyone he needed to know within the Taesan palace walls. Na Jaemin, the Prince and target. Na Hosung, the Regent and the Prince’s uncle. A list of guards and court officials. Definitely a lot to remember. 

“What about the Regent?” Jeno asked.

“What about him?”

Jeno shrugged. “I mean, I just leave him alone?”

“The hit is on the Prince, so yes, I would leave the Regent alone,” Johnny replied. 

“And does he have a retainer?”

“I’d assume so.”

“A Lee?”

“A Kim.”

“Alright,” Jeno said, slowly going down the list of names. Kim Junmyeon. The Regent’s retainer. “When do I start?”

“Soon,” Johnny replied. “You won’t have much time to brush up on your etiquette and cram everything here, but I trust you’ll manage.”

“It could be worse.”

“That’s the spirit. I won’t take up much more of your time, then. You have a lot to get through.”

With how much information there was compiled for him, Johnny’s words came as a severe understatement. 

♤♡◇♧

Jeno was ready. 

At least that’s what he thought after preparing diligently over the past two days. He went over all the information he was provided to the point he could recite everything written down in his sleep. 

He also brushed up on all the things he had to learn to go undercover as a servant, from the way he had to stand and hold himself, to the orden in which he would have to dress the Prince up. Thankfully one of Johnny’s business partners used to serve a stuck-up Lord back in the day so he offered Jeno a crash course to get him up to standard. 

His fake identity required thorough studying as well, not allowing himself to even remotely slip up in front of anyone at the palace. Granted, there wasn’t that much he had to memorise; as long as he had his name, age, nationality and family history right, he’d be good. 

Lee Jeno, aged twenty-two, a Taesan native raised on the land granted to his family six generations ago by the monarchy, forever indebting them to their service. He was the previous retainer’s cousin. Why did the Prince never meet him when he was young? Because he suffered from an illness in his youth. What illness? Nothing to concern yourself with, your Highness. 

Simple. Believable. 

Na Jaemin’s reputation was an odd one, even to Jeno who really didn’t keep up much with the royal affairs. The Prince didn’t really seem to do anything with the Regent as the acting face of the monarchy. He was overshadowed and, quite frankly, useless. 

Interested in his target, Jeno did try to hear out a few opinions about him. He scoured the Wilted Rose and made easy conversation with familiar faces and drunkards alike, asking them what they thought of the Prince.

“Why so curious all of a sudden, aye?”

“He’s going to be King soon, isn’t he? Thought I might as well know what to think of him.”

So he was met with a wide range of answers. Some thought he was a clueless fool. Some deemed him a bad omen with the way his parents died when he was young, even hearing a few instances of “he sucked the life out of his poor mother.” Then there were the more sympathetic views of him, seeing him as lost. But even then, nobody seemed to think he was deemed to be the King.

At least nobody within Onyan thought so.

“Remember the earthquake relief?” An older man asked, his face one big wrinkle. “Half of Onyan was in shambles and the Princling said Taesan would offer support. Sent supplied in droves. But the food arrived in a sorry state and the building materials were subpar. Houses rebuilt with them didn’t last. Felt like a sick joke, that.”

Incompetent. 

Some even argued he wasn’t all there - something about grief fogging his mind. 

Maybe he wouldn’t even notice if Jeno messed up here and there.

Not that Jeno was planning on tripping up at all. This was too serious of a job to make a blunder on. 

So he studied as much as he could until he simply couldn’t keep his eyes pried open. And when the day finally came, he knew nothing could take him by surprise. 

Jeno was dressed up into a fine tailored suit that Johnny got for him. Sleek and luxurious in its simplicity, offering a look of true class and not a mere cheap copy. 

“You look good,” Johnny said, placing a hand on Jeno’s shoulder. He gave it a reassuring squeeze, looking at the younger man with a fond smile. Jeno had seen it time and time again, watching as the years passed in between. Johnny had changed since the first time they met, no longer the dashing youth with a dream, but a successful, experienced man. His age showed in the wrinkles around his eyes and the greying of his hair.

“Thanks.”

“No ‘so do you’ ? Wow.”

Jeno snorted, rolling his eyes. “Sorry for not inflating your ego.”

Johnny clicked his tongue. “You hardly do, Jen. If anything, you keep this old man humble.”

“I sure do- wait, was I supposed to say you’re not old?”

“Aye this kid,” Johnny muttered with a wide grin. “What am I gonna do without you?” His hand instinctively went up to Jeno’s head to ruffle his hair, however he had to stop himself now that Jeno was dressed up smartly for the road ahead. He couldn’t look like a mess when greeting his new employer. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“It’s only a few months,” Jeno assured. “The coronation is in August. You’ll manage until then. Even if I am your favourite.”

Johnny’s smile softened. “You sure are, Jen. That’s why I’ll miss you.”

With another roll of his eyes, Jeno laughed. “You can be such a sap when you want to be,” he mused, looking at his older brother with matching warmth. “I’ll miss you too.”

Jeno didn’t expect it when Johnny pulled him in for a hug, his strong arms holding him tight. He welcomed it though, allowing himself to feel like a kid for a brief moment as he embraced him back. 

“Take care, Jen,” Johnny said, patting Jeno on the shoulder.

“I will.”

They departed with a wave as Jeno took his place in the carriage. Johnny stayed to watch him leave, only stepping aside once he could no longer see the carriage in the distance. Now Jeno really was on his own, slowly heading out of what he considered his home, entering what felt like a distant, foreign land. 

He had only been to Taesan on a few occasions, but he had never ventured into the capital. And he most certainly never made it within the palace walls, the place guarded like the fortress that it was. He could see it in the distance as his carriage drew nearer after a tediously long journey, aching and tired from the road. 

His heart pounded in his chest, palms sweating with nerves. It wasn’t his job that had him stressed, but the mere fact that he was about to step foot in a place he never imagined himself to be. Once he was deemed by everyone there to fit in, everything else would go smoothly. But until that point, Jeno worried that someone would sniff him out - that they could notice the mutt the second he dared to show his face.

But he could keep calm. He could put on a brave face and play the part as if it were his truth. That’s how he ended up where he was in the first place. It’s why he was still alive. 

Jeno knew how to carry himself, and he knew how to make the most of his appearance. Ever since he was young he received compliments and a multitude of comments; first it was on how cute and sweet he was with his innocent large eyes and his round face, and then later it was about how charming and handsome he was, able to seduce anyone he fancied with nothing but a flutter of his lashes, a coy smile and the bite of his lip. He could be a lord, or he could be a harlot. He could be a stumbling fool or a quick witted salesman. 

Jeno could be anyone and anything. And he was about to become the Prince’s retainer. The best one known to him.

Also his last.

The journey came to an end soon enough.

The carriage went around to a back entrance. As if a mere servant would be greeted at the front gate. 

It was late in the evening now, the sky losing all its colour as night approached. There was a gentle breeze when Jeno stepped out, offering a refreshing breath of air after being confined in the carriage for a few hours since their last stop. 

They did stop for the night, but their rest was brief, needing to get to the palace sooner than later. Their last stop also didn’t last long, only giving enough time to grab a small bite and freshen up before getting back on the road again.

Jeno’s legs ached and so did his back, the ride tortuous no matter how much nicer the carriage was to what he was used to. At least he didn’t have to travel by horseback because that would most definitely leave him shattered.

Upon arrival, he was greeted by a man Jeno knew a fair amount about already. 

“Kim Junmyeon. Pleasure to meet you,” the retainer said, offering Jeno a polite bow as he stepped out of his carriage. “I do apologise for the little notice; I’m afraid we were rather short on time.”

“Lee Jeno. And no need to apologise,” Jeno said, putting on a genial smile as he returned Junmyeon’s bow. “If anything, I am honoured to have been considered in the first place.”

“Of course. Who else if not yourself?”

The two men smiled, cordial. 

“You must have had a long journey. How about I show you around before introducing you to his Highness?”

“That would be appreciated. Thank you.”

Jeno’s luggage was taken up for him - two large bags which he struggled to fill in the first place. But he couldn’t arrive empty handed. Not fitting for a man of his standing. Or so he’s been told. 

He was first shown briefly around the outside, taking a look at the stables, gardens, as well as the training grounds. “Prince Jaemin typically spends more time here than what he is scheduled for,” Junmyeon explained, his voice carrying a sense of amusement that Jeno simply smiled off, not sure what to make of it.

The staff quarters and the cellars were next. They stopped by what would end up being his room; it was larger than the other staff quarters and seemed more comfortable with a nicer bed, an armchair and a few other amenities. Honestly, Jeno had stayed in worse places over the years. His bags had also already been deposited there, left by the foot of his bed, the covers done up neatly. 

Junmyeon knew the palace like the back of his hand with the way he weaved in and out through corridors and rooms, taking hidden staircases for servants, explaining where everything was and how to get there in the fastest way possible. All things which would have more likely than not gone over anyone else’s head. However Jeno wasn’t anyone else; he had to pay attention and he had to commit everything to memory lest he wanted to blow his cover. 

“The Prince has already retired for the night,” Junmyeon explained, stopping right in front of a large arched doorway. “His room is right down this corridor,” he said, extending his hand out to direct Jeno’s attention to the heavy wooden doors, the frame intricately carved and painted with a floral motif. “I believe you will be fine to wake his Highness up in the morning?”

“Of course.”

“Lovely. I shall leave you to unwind for the night then, but if you have any further questions then do feel free to come to me. You know where my room is.”

“Thank you.”

After that whole ordeal, Jeno retired to his room. The moment he clicked the doors shut behind him, he groaned, slumping against the firm wood. He slouched his shoulders and reached up to his collar to loosen the fabric constricting his throat. Without a shadow of a doubt, Jeno was drained. First the journey to Taesan, and then the seemingly never walk around of the castle sucked the life right out of him. 

And he still had to wake up early!

No more sleeping in. That wasn’t something a retainer could indulge in. 

Jeno exhaled and pushed himself up from the door, walking further into his room. He stripped from his outer jacket and remained in the undershirt for the time being. He’d have to take a bath, and though he did have a small bathroom attached to his bedroom with a tap, he doubted the water that would come from it would be anything but cold. Still better than nothing. At least he could scrub the first and grime of the day from his tired skin. 

For now though, Jeno looked at his luggage. 

He grabbed the smaller of the two bags and opened it up, setting out some of his belongings. There were a few books in there that he swiped from Johnny’s personal collection (hopefully) without the older man noticing. Though he probably realised by now. Nothing he could do about it though without barging into the palace to take them back. He also brought with him a sketchbook to progressively fill in over the course of his stay. After all, he had so many new faces and sights to witness. 

The second bag was larger and contained lined walls to conceal weapons. They had to be small and undetectable - something which he could keep on his person until the time was right. Though he was meant to kill the Prince in a few months time, he was permitted to do the deed sooner only granted he was compromised. Hence carrying a dagger on him at all times was required. 

He patted the bag down, making out the faint outline of the concealed blades within the lining. 

“Well then, I guess that’s that.”

Hopefully the wait for August won't be that bad. 

Chapter Text

Jeno was used to waking up early. Earlier than this, too. So even with a lingering ache in his back from yesterday's tedious journey, Jeno gets up and prepares for his first day on the job. He makes quick work of getting dressed, slipping into the attire provided to him by the palace to match with all the other staff. 

His clothes mirror what he had seen Junmyeon in the night before. 

It's a tailored suit, smart and classy and probably even nicer than what he would see the fanciest of men in Onyan wear. 

His slacks are straight and ironed to perfection. The shirt is a crisp white with the family emblem etched into the tips of the folded collar, successfully marking him as royal property. And all that is paired with a tailored suit jacket, the waist pinched but breathable in its tightness. There's a myriad of pockets hidden on the inside which would most definitely prove themself useful.

After slipping on his tie - a deep navy with the slightest hint of green appearing under the right light - Jeno deemed himself presentable. All his buttons were done, brooches attached, and hair styled perfectly. 

A good first impression was important. Even if the person you were trying to impress was also the person you were meant to kill. 

Honestly, having to wait for his coronation to kill the Prince seemed needlessly drawn out, but who was Jeno to question it anyway? If that’s what he was being paid to do, then he’d go along with it. Anything for his subsequent freedom. 

Jeno could slip into a routine with ease and he honestly doubted that this time around would be all that different to his previous stints at playing servant. The schedule he was provided was robust and hopefully would also give Jeno some wiggle room to snoop around here and there if necessary. 

After all, it was unlikely that the Prince would spill all his secrets to him, but staff always loved to gossip; Jeno could always figure out if the Prince had any close relationships and diplomatic ties through the grapevine. 

With one last look at himself, Jeno was ready to start the day. He stepped out of his room and wandered down the long corridor, hands trailing along the protruding cobblestone. He passed the kitchen, already bursting with life, the alluring smell of fresh bread rising in the air. From within he caught the eyes of a woman, the front of her robes dusted in flour.

She waved at him, beckoning him closer. “Ya must be the Prince’s new nanny,” she said with a humoured bounce in her voice. 

“That would be me, yes,” Jeno replied, trying his best to still come across as well spoken even under a casual setting. He couldn’t let his mask start to slip so early on. “I’m Lee Jeno. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The woman blushed, waving her hand. “Pleasure this and that, aye. Such a charmer, aren’t’ya? I’m Bae Yeojin,” she said with a curt smile and a thick accent which Jeno was ninety percent sure came from somewhere around the mountainous region of Taesan. “Are ya leaving without eating? Ya seem in a rush.”

“I can’t be late on the first day,” Jeno replied. “And I might have spent too long trying to get ready in the morning.”

“Nervous for the Prince, huh?” Yeojin teased. “He’s a peculiar lad, that one. Yer predecessor had plenty o’ stories to tell,” she added with a laugh, hands resting on her hips. “But ya should have something to eat at least, even if ya don’t have time to join the rest o’ us.”

“Thank you,” Jeno said as he was presented with a platter of bread, cheese and a variety of sliced fruit. For servants and palace staff they definitely ate well. He ended up picking up a bread roll and a few apple slices, getting through them quickly once Yeojin turned away. Once done, he departed with a polite bow, walking slowly until he was out of the line of sight, picking up his footsteps since he really was starting to cut it close. 

He would have to wake up earlier tomorrow and hopefully get to know the other staff. 

The kitchen staff might not have much to say, but Jeno was certain that the cleaners and butlers would have plenty of stories to share. If anyone would know about the Prince chatting up any officials, it would be them. 

But for now Jeno had other things to worry about. 

He climbed up one of the servant staircases, skipping steps in his increasingly apparent rush until he finally reached the correct floor. He steadied his breath and collected himself before stepping out and into the long opulent corridor which led towards the Prince’s chambers. He had to pass a guard on the way there, his eyes briefly flickering to the man positioned outside. His expression was stern and his stance unwavering. That much was expected.

Jeno, quite frankly, had no idea what was waiting for him. After all, he had only seen depictions of the Prince and never the real thing. He wasn’t even sure if any of the rough sketches he had seen were up to date, all probably lagging a few years behind. It also didn’t help that the royal mint had the Regent’s face stamped into their coins, the young Prince nowhere to be seen until his coronation. 

Once at the door, Jeno paused. 

Time for the big reveal.

He gave the sturdy door a firm knock, announcing his presence before pulling the doors open, breaching into the Prince’s private space. 

The room was extravagant, larger than the entire floor plan of Jeno’s own shoddy home back in Onyan. It was a vibrant space, the walls and furnishings in pleasant pink hues which burst into life with sparks of fresh greenery and detailing. 

The grand canopy bed had its heavy curtains shut - soft pink and a deep emerald fabric with embroidered flowers trailing down from the ceiling all the way to the floor. They kept the Prince shielded from the singular strip of sunlight pouring in from a poorly shut blind streaking across the dark wooden floor. 

At the other end of the room was a fireplace, the mantle lined with golden statues of different animals, flower vases and a singular framed painting of a young woman, her smile dazzling. In front was a velvet lounge chair, a throw blanket tossed over it as well as two plush pillows. By the sides were two lounge chairs and a table in between.

There was a reading nook in the corner lined with grand bookcases all packed to the brim, Nearby was a desk with a pile of papers left on top, perhaps not cleared up from the night prior. 

All in all, the Prince had enough there to keep himself occupied without the need to step outside of his room. Jeno honestly felt kind of jealous - he couldn’t help it, really. 

But jealousy over an actual monarch aside, Jeno turned his attention back to the canopy bed. He hadn’t received a response from the Prince before he stepped inside and there were no signs of life as he stood and waited around the edge of the bed. For a second Jeno thought that the Prince wasn’t even there, but once he heard a shuffling of the sheets that theory was proven wrong. 

Babysitting duty: commence. 

First, the room needed some light. Jeno walked down in a line to uncover the windows, allowing for the genial morning sunshine to pour inside. As he reached the final window, he paused to look at the papers strewn across the Prince’s desk. Unfortunately all that there was to look at consisted of what Jeno assumed to be copies of a book in a foreign language, the translation written underneath. 

The crow sits perched on its branch, watching. Waiting. 

What on earth was he reading? Nothing that would be useful to Jeno, that’s for sure.

Once done, he returned to the bed.

Jeno pulled apart the curtains, revealing a lump in the bed sheets. The Prince had his back to him, peacefully asleep. Unfortunately, he was up for a rude awakening. Jeno really had little say; if the schedule had the Prince up at the crack of dawn, then Jeno had to wake him up for the crack of dawn. 

“It is time to wake up, your Highness,” Jeno called, leaning in slightly to hover over the bed. When nothing happened, he tried again. “Your Highness,” he called, getting increasingly louder in his attempts. He went from a polite whisper to a pointed call as loud as his usual speaking voice. Still nothing. The Prince was as unresponsive as a log. “It’s time to wake up, your Highness,” he tried again to no avail.

Jeno considered shaking him awake but he wasn’t sure if that would get his hands chopped off or not. Opting to err on the side of caution, Jeno instead decided to give the bedframe a strong kick. That shook the bed enough to wake the Prince up. Not with a jolt, but with a grumble.

The Prince groaned as he rolled onto his back, hands flopping by the sides of his head, giving Jeno a somewhat decent look at the young man. Black curls fell upon the crisp white of his pillowcase, the tendrils organised in their apparent chaos. 

His features were sharp and swift; a smooth line of his nose leading to the bump of his plush lips, gently parted in his slumber, and a strong and defined jawline. But it was his eyelashes that drew Jeno's attention; they were long, fanning across his soft cheek, the skin clear and perfect. He wouldn’t have expected to see them on a man, and quite frankly he was fascinated by the sight. 

But that really wasn’t his priority right now.

Seeing as the drastic approach had somewhat worked, Jeno tried again, this time kneeing the thick mattress. 

“Your Highness,” he called again to the now stirring royal. “It’s time to wake up.”

Gaining consciousness, the Prince whined and shook his head in disapproval as he stretched out his long limbs. “Don’t wanna,” he said, sleep slurring his speech. “Ten more minutes.”

And Jeno didn’t want to look after a lousy Prince for the next few months instead of just killing him, yet here they both were having to do things they didn’t want. 

“I am afraid that that won’t be possible,” Jeno replied. “You are due breakfast with the Regent and then scheduled with Mrs Han this morning for your literature lessons. It would be rude to make them wait.”

With a deep, pained sigh, the Prince admitted defeat. He pulled himself up and slowly blinked his eyes, readjusting to the world around him. It took him a moment to gather his senses, clearly not much of an early morning person despite having close to twenty-one years of having to wake up under his belt. 

Once he seemed to be somewhat coherent, the Prince looked over to Jeno. His expression was dissatisfied and tired, not fazed at all by the sight of an unfamiliar face. 

“Are you here to kill me?” The Prince asked, his voice flat and lacking any urgency. 

Jeno’s stomach did drop to the floor upon those words, however as he looked at the royal for more than a second, he could tell he wasn’t serious. At least that’s what it came across as. And so, he could only respond with a rehearsed smile.

“You shouldn’t joke about that, your Highness,” he said.

The Prince shrugged. “Had to make sure,” he mused before stretching himself forward to get rid of any lingering ache in his back. “You’re new.”

“You are correct. I am your new retainer.”

“New nanny,” the Prince mumbled, eyes focused on the two bumps in the duvet where his feet were. “Retainer implies you actually do something useful. You’re a Lee, aren’t you?”

“Yes, your Highness. Lee Jeno.”

The Prince looked at him, his eyes piercing despite how lax he otherwise seemed. “Should’ve been a Park. Uncle doesn’t like them though. And I never liked the Lee’s,” he declared, pushing the covers off himself. “I didn't like Jihoon either. Are you two siblings?”

“Cousins,” Jeno replied.

“Cousins,” the Prince echoed. He clicked his tongue and tilted his head to the side, observing Jeno with renowned interest. “Well, you definitely look better than your cousin.”

“Thank you, your Highness.”

“Whatever. Do your thing.”

Jeno learned one thing early on, and that was that Prince Na Jaemin was insufferable. Though it was in a way that Jeno never even thought possible in the first place. The Prince - actually, Jaemin, because calling him a Prince actually pained Jeno - was difficult in whatever way he could muster. 

For one, he was nothing but an annoyance in the morning as he still yearned to jump back in the bed, taking every opportunity to sit back down when all Jeno tried to do was get him dressed and ready. Secondly, he eyed Jeno constantly with what could only be called scepticism. 

Johnny did mention trust issues, but Jeno didn’t think he would be judged on every single thing he did - he even started to worry if his breathing would give him away!

But honestly, it was something about Jaemin’s attitude that irked Jeno beyond belief. He was on edge, but there was also an air of indifference and apathy to him as if he knew that no matter what he did, nothing would really matter. He was judging, but dismissive. Bratty, but cooperative. Resigned, yet still present. A cacophony of juxtaposing emotions. 

Jaemin did in the end make Jeno’s task of getting him dressed easier, standing around as Jeno layered him up. Neat white slacks, a flowy shirt tucked into it with a further array of strings at the back which needed to be tied, accentuating the young man’s figure. Jeno got to work with those, finding the whole ordeal tedious. But that’s what the upper class liked: inconvenience to show off just how little they had to do for themselves. 

The last layer consisted of an asymmetrical mauve jacket, the right side longer as it went up to the middle of his thigh whilst the left stopped at his waist. It included even more ties to get it set in place, tight around Jaemin’s middle. 

Jeno got down on his knees to do up the man’s shoes, looping them quickly as Jaemin looked down at him with a spark of curiosity. Before Jeno could finish up, Jaemin nudged his foot towards him, making him lose grip of the laces. Jeno spared a brief glance upwards, noticing a faint curve of the Prince’s lips, taunting him. 

Not being able to react, Jeno simply resumed. All part of the job. 

Finally done with that whole ordeal, Jeno approached the door to open it for Jaemin. He waited by it, his head in a slight bow to not offend. But Jaemin didn’t move.

“Is something the matter, your Highness?”

Jaemin hummed a noncommittal sound. His eyes wandered around the room aimlessly, dragging out the time he spent within the confines of his bedroom. “I was thinking,” he started, taking far too long to continue as if to annoy Jeno on purpose. “I want breakfast in bed from now on.”

“I will arrange that for you, your Highness.”

Still, he didn’t move.

Jaemin didn’t seem in a rush to get anywhere, even if he had a full day planned ahead. There was no time for aimlessly standing around and looking clueless, head in the clouds. When Jeno turned around for a brief moment, Jaemin had shuffled back to the bed, the soft sound of the bedside drawer closing grabbing Jeno’s attention. 

But still, Jaemin seemed uninterested. Bored.

Was there actually something wrong with him?

“Your Highness,” Jeno called, urging him to make a move on. “The Regent is expecting you for breakfast.”

The mere mention of the acting monarch caused Jaemin to scrunch his face in distaste - a reaction that seemed unintentional. Instinctual. He quickly wiped that expression from his face though, going back to the look of indifference he wore when Jeno had dressed him up. With that, he stepped forward, passing Jeno as he left his room. 

Jeno lingered, watching Jaemin from the back. His walk was elegant, matching his beauty but not his personality. A shame really. 

With a substantial distance between them, Jeno followed after Jaemin as the young royal sauntered down the corridor. He surprisingly came to a stop though once he was within sight of the guard. The two men exchanged glances and nodded, the look in Jaemin’s eyes momentarily softening. 

Jeno should consider at least learning the guards name. 

But once again, that was something that would have to come at a later time. For now, Jeno escorted Jaemin to one of the dozen or so dining areas within the palace. Junmyeon had given him a brief rundown and promised to have someone show him around properly during the day when Jaemin was busy with his lessons, but he made sure to at the very least show Jeno the most important rooms in the meantime. 

The Spring Tea Room , as the name implied, was used during spring for tea. And breakfast. And any snacks and light meals throughout the day. It was multi purposeful. 

Thankfully Jeno knew where he was going, reaching the correct location without any major blunders. Though even if he did end up taking a wrong turn it was unlikely that the Prince would even notice with how little he paid attention to his surroundings, his gaze focusing on the window lining the walls instead. 

Upon arrival, Jeno was met with a guard who announced their presence. 

They poured inside and that was the first time Jeno had seen the Regent in person. 

His depiction on Taesan coins was clearly meant to be flattering as the man sitting comfortably in an oversized dining chair had little resemblance to the handsome man carried around in coin pouches. He was aged, the skin beneath his eyes sunken in and discoloured. The lines on his face were deep and pronounced, making him seem older than he really was. Though he carried himself with an air of dignity, his heavy brow and cold eyes instilled a respect borne of fear. 

To think that he was related to Jaemin was quite laughable. 

The Prince took his seat at the other end of the table, regarding his uncle with a curt bow. One which Jeno argued showed more disdain than respect or even affection. 

“Punctual for once,” the Regent said, amused by the change of things. “Must be that new servant of yours.” At that, he glanced at Jeno who stood off to the side with Junmyeon, their hands held behind their backs. It was a simple look of curiosity, disappearing just as soon as Jeno registered the man’s eyes on him. “You need some discipline if you’re ever going to be King.”

“I’ll be sure to bear that in mind,” Jaemin mused as the servants placed plates of food in front of them and filled their cups with tea. 

“No need for your attitude first thing in the morning, Jaemin.”

“My bad.”

The Regent hummed. “And get your hand out of your pocket.”

The Prince did so, making a show of it.

Watching the two was beyond painful, making Jeno want to cringe any time the duo exchanged as much as a few brisk words with another. It was stilted and strained, lacking any sincerity Jeno would have expected from family. 

Beside him, Junmyeon was unfazed. His gaze was directed right in front of him, focused on a painting of a collection of birds, matching with the whole floral and seasonal look of the room. Jeno tried to tune out the conversation between the Regent and Prince, surprisingly finding it easy after a while. 

“Marquess Kim will be visiting in three days time,” the Regent declared, his plate emptied. He raised his hand to have his tea refilled, a servant coming to his aid instantly. “So please try to be on your best behaviour.”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Jaemin replied, jabbing his fork into an innocent plump tomato. “You know I adore Marquess Kim. And I’ll make sure not to mention what went down in his beloved guest room - not that I really know what happened, but I’ll take your word for it if you fired two of our trusted staff over it. But yes, I will be on my utmost best behaviour for my favourite person in the world.”

“This is exactly what I’m talking about. Maybe if you tried to be less sarcastic and more agreeable, he wouldn’t think the way he does of you.”

“I think there’s nothing I could do now to make him like me, uncle,” Jaemin argued, placing his cutlery down with a staggering clank . “Not that I really care about his approval anyway. What was it that he called me again? Ah yes! An incorrigible fool unbefit of the crown . You’d think I tanked the economy with how he dug into me. And all I did was mess up the name of a foreign Princess.”

“You did more than that.”

“And as I said before - and as I will continue to say: that was not my fault,” Jaemin argued. “You know that.”

“Whether it was your fault or not, you still made a mistake. An egregious one at that.”

Jaemin groaned, his shoulders shaking with a simmering rage. “Fine! I messed up; I should be stoned to death for it. Is that what Marquess Kim wants me to say? Will he finally let go of the grudge or is he simply deadset on hating me until my undoubtedly untimely demise?”

The Regent sighed - a sound Jeno could tell he was accustomed to making now, shaking his head with an acceptance of his fate. “Must you really continue these theatrics, Jaemin? Aren’t you ashamed? In front of your new retainer as well?”

“Why should I care? If he thinks I’m a spoiled, mannerless brat then so what? He’ll still do his job, isn’t that right?” Jaemin asked, turning around to look at Jeno. 

Eyes widening in shock, Jeno glanced between the Prince and the Regent before replying with a polite and firm “yes, your Highness.”

“See? Nothing but a dog serving his master,” Jaemin said, his point made. “Now, if you would excuse me, I believe I have a literature lesson with Mrs Han. I would hate to keep her waiting.” 

With that, Jaemin pushed himself out of his seat, his food barely touched. He made his way towards the door, glancing at Jeno to get a move on after him. 

And like the good dog he was, Jeno followed him. 

♤♡◇♧

Jeno was whisked away after he dropped Jaemin off for one of his countless lessons for the day. Since the Prince would take at least two hours getting drilled with literature, Jeno had time to be properly shown around the palace. He was somewhat surprised to see Junmyeon and not some other member of palace staff.

“I thought it would be nice,” the older retainer said, walking Jeno around the places he didn't have a chance to stop by initially.

Courtyards, miscellaneous rooms, the seasonal rooms, any place that was being used as a classroom, meeting rooms, absolutely everything that one could ever need. It was overwhelming but nevertheless Jeno made a mental map of the palace - inside and outside. If he ever needed to sneak around then he would prefer to have a safe route in mind.

Jeno also took that time to get closer to Junmyeon. 

“How long have you served the Regent?”

“Over twenty years,” the man replied. “Prior to that, it was my father. Once he passed, I took his place. You could say I've witnessed three different eras,” he added with a contemplative hum. 

“Three?”

“Three,” the retainer confirmed. “I was already at the palace when the previous King was alive. Then once he passed, it was Queen Suhye and… well, things were never quite the same after that. Prince Jaemin was never the same. I have to say, it is heartbreaking looking back at it; he used to be such a bright young boy. But alas.”

Junmyeon didn't continue there, probably not wishing to bad mouth Jaemin. Maybe he would have done it if it weren't for Jeno's presence, or maybe he simply had more self-restraint than to gossip.

“I must warn you though, the showdowns between them are rather frequent,” Junmyeon added, an apologetic look to him. “Most meals or time spent together end up with some sort of argument. The Regent means well though, even if Prince Jaemin sees everything as an attack on his person. Unfortunately, the Prince is quite opposed to the Regent. Any attempts that the Regent makes at bridging the gap is met with defiance. If I’m honest, I don’t think the Regent knows anything about the Prince past the age of… thirteen? That’s when the young Prince truly shut himself off from everyone.”

Jeno hummed. “And if I may ask, is there anything I should know regarding Marquess Kim? It seems the Prince isn't… fond of him.”

Junmyeon laughed, covering his mouth at the sudden outburst. “That is an understatement. Marquess Kim believed the Prince to be unfit for the King. He's quite easy to spot in a crowd with how frequently he says If I were King or if things went my way. He's quite the personality,” he explained. 

“And the incident mentioned prior?”

“An unfortunate ordeal,” Junmyeon replied, taking Jeno through to the Northern wing of the castle. 

This was mainly used for social events and meetings with officials, the upper floors having rooms favoured by certain members of the royal court for their occasional stays since, unlike in the past, they didn’t actually reside within the palace. Junmyeon pointed out Marquess Kim's preferred chamber. 

“We had a meeting regarding trade deals a few years back,” the older man explained. “One of our esteemed guests was one of the Princesses. The youngest of three. Somehow the names on the brief provided to the Prince were mixed up and the Prince incorrectly referred to her as her eldest sister.”

Jeno cocked a brow. 

Was that all it took to call Jaemin an incorrigible fool?

“You're probably wondering how that could be worthy of Marquess Kim thinking so little of the Prince. But it was truly hectic, trust me. The young princess was enraged,” Junmyeon elaborated, briefly stopping to also explain where exactly they were within the castle walls. “You see, she hated her sister vehemently - the typical jealousy amidst royalty. She made a big deal out of it and the trade deal fell through, affecting Marquess Kim significantly. Hence his growing disdain for the Prince.”

Jeno believed everyone involved was overreacting. But who was he to say anything?

“I trust you'll be able to remind the Prince of his manners during Marquess Kim's visit?”

“Of course.”

“Good,” Junmyeon said with a pleased hum. “He can behave when needed, though frequent reminders are necessary.”

“I'll bear that in mind.”

The tour went on with minimal points of interest. Jeno added all the corridors and rooms he visited onto his mental map of the place, bombarded with additional information in the meantime. 

“I'd suggest running practice runs once Prince Jaemin retires for the night. Get yourself familiar with all these winding corridors and secret passages. It'll prove useful in the long run.”

“Won't it look suspicious?”

Junmyeon chuckled. “Definitely, but it's not a rare occurrence; most new butlers and servants do it a few times to settle in. Just make sure that no member of the royal court sees you. And if you decided to do it past curfew mention it to a handful of guards first.”

“I will.”

Speaking of guards.

“Does the Prince have specific guards just for him?”

“There's two guards whom the Prince insists on never being swapped out,” the older man replied. “Jeong Jaehyun and Lee Minhyung - though you will most likely hear him be referred to as Mark by the Prince. They're his guards, but also what I assume to be his only friends. Or confidants. I don’t believe they’ve been overly friendly as of late, but that is besides the point. You'll most frequently see them on duty outside of the Prince’s bedroom for the night.”

Paranoid of getting killed in his sleep?

Well, technically he's right to be worried given Jeno being sent here. But that's besides the point.

By the time Junmyeon walked Jeno back, Jaemin was just about wrapping up with his lesson. He seemed surprisingly engaged as he paced around the room, book in hand, gesturing enthusiastically as he discussed the text with Mrs Han - an older woman, hair completely grey and tied neatly with a decorative pin keeping the curls in place. 

Intrigued, Jeno tried to listen in only to find the pair were speaking in a completely different language - literally. Alright, so foreign literature it was. 

But the lesson did come to an end, followed after a brief break for tea and a snack before Jaemin would have to continue on. The table in front of Jaemin was slowly decorated with plates of sweet treats and an ornate teapot, the amber liquid poured out into a fine cup, the rims golden. 

Having stormed out of breakfast with having eaten very little, Jaemin’s tongue poked out at the sight though he didn’t jump at the opportunity to dig in, instead staring at the slices of cakes, colourful macaroons and fresh, sliced fruit. His eyes fell upon the sponge cake, an odd, wistful look to him paired with a smile that was nothing more than a faint twitch of the lips - blink and it’s gone. 

The moment burst and Jaemin reached for his dessert fork, cutting through the fluffy cake. He brought it up to his mouth, a speck of whipped cream getting on his top lip before he came to an abrupt pause. Slowly, with his eyebrows raised in question, Jaemin looked at his retainer standing close to the wall. 

“You want some?”

Was he talking to Jeno?

“I asked you a question,” Jaemin said, a quiver of annoyance in his deep voice. “Do you want some?”

“I don’t think that would be appropriate. But thank you nevertheless, your Highness.”

“That doesn’t answer the question,” Jaemin huffed, putting his fork down. “Do you want a macaroon? Cupcake? I won’t be able to get through them all myself anyway.”

This was a test. This had to be a test. 

So Jeno responded with a polite smile he thought he had mastered by this point - lacking much emotion but still coming across as aimable even if he whipped out whilst having insults hurled at him. “Unfortunately-”

“Come here,” the Prince interrupted.

Jeno couldn’t help but lift his brow, blinking as he tried to comprehend what Jaemin wanted from him. Not wanting to make him wait though, Jeno did step towards the Prince, coming to a standstill as he reached the side of his chair. 

“I think you want one,” Jaemin said, leaning over to pick up one of the pastries and baked goods on offer. He ended up with a macaroon and asked for Jeno’s hand next, waiting for the retainer to extend it out for him, palm up. “There,” he said, plopping the round treat in his hand. “You’ve worked hard.”

If he didn’t have to keep up appearances, Jeno would have probably started gasping like a fish, mouth opening and closing as he struggled to figure out what on earth Jaemin was playing out. But if he did that then he’d look like an undisciplined commoner so he opted out for another smile, tighter with how his lips and eyes were pressed into thin lines. 

“Thank you, your Highness.”

“Eat it,” Jaemin urged, waiting expectantly. Definitely weird. “You don’t have to turn away. Just eat it.”

Was this some weird fetish of his? Watching other people eat? Certainly not the strangest thing Jeno has had to do in his life - money was money and Jeno liked to think he had a very strong desire to survive. 

Not thinking much more of it, Jeno decided that it wouldn’t hurt to have a small bite. He was after all running around and up on his feet all day. Some sugar was deserved - needed, actually. So he lifted the round dessert up to his lips and took a tentative bite out of it, not wanting crumbs to go flying everywhere. 

“Such a big mouth and that’s the best you can do? Just eat the darn macaroon.”

Oddly threatened, Jeno swallowed the rest of the sweet meringue, chewing it up and swallowing it down quickly. 

Jaemin looked up at him expectantly, blinking his long lashes as he observed the retainer. 

Had to be a fetish thing.

Or so Jeno thought until Jaemin spoke up. “So?”

“It was delicious. Thank you, your Highness.”

Jaemin waved his hand. “Not that. Was there an odd taste to it? Bitter? Maybe something akin to a burnt almond?”

This brat.

Did he really just use Jeno to taste for poison?

Well, at least he was resourceful. 

“Nothing like that, your Highness,” Jeno assured. “As I am certain is the case for everything else here.”

Jaemin hummed, picking his plate back up to finally dig into his dessert. 

Either Jaemin was joking around, or he was paranoid at every waking moment. And quite frankly, Jeno didn’t care. Though, it would make his life somewhat easier if he could build up some trust with the Prince. That way when the final moment came, Jaemin wouldn’t suspect it. That and the fact Jeno still needed to figure out if Jaemin was in cahoots with anyone. Being able to be some sort of confidant to the Prince would likely make that less of a hassle. 

So he’d taste his food with a smile, not hesitating in the slightest. And maybe then he could get through his prolonged work assignment. 

♤♡◇♧

The rest of the day went relatively smoothly. The Prince and Regent didn’t have any further clashes - mainly because they didn’t cross each other’s paths at all after breakfast - so that was a plus. 

Jaemin had a few more lessons ranging from art (which he didn’t seem all that good at given Jeno could see his canvas), music (something he actually did have a decent grasp of) and a brush up on politics and current affairs. Jeno actually made sure to pay attention during the latter even if he technically was meant to tune out everything but his master’s orders. Good thing he wasn’t an actual retainer but a measly crook and cheat. 

For lunch, Jaemin did actually eat something, not needing Jeno to do a quick taste test for him. Nonetheless, he still left before he could complete his final course, pushing the plate aside as he made his way out and towards his chambers. 

Jeno followed after him, keeping three paces behind him at all times. 

“You can go,” Jaemin said as he reached his bedroom, a hand pressed against the door. “I won’t need any further assistance.”

And Jeno would love to run off, but he had appearances to maintain. 

“Let me at least assist with your clothes, your Highness.”

Jaemin smirked. With a click of the tongue, he pulled the door open and stepped inside, not holding it open for Jeno. Not that he should have. But he could if he had an ounce of care and decorum nestled somewhere within him - though those were rare qualities for a royal to possess. 

Jeno stepped inside and lit the lamps in Jaemin’s room. Without the natural light pouring in through the windows, Jaemin’s bedroom took on a sombre character. The warm and delicate pinks felt cold whereas the green accents felt dull. Lifeless. Everything was muted, and as the soft orange hues of the candle flames flickered and spilled out across the dark woods, all Jeno could think of was how wrong it felt. 

Like a mockery. 

Jaemin plopped himself down on the lounging chair, undoing some of the lacing at the front of his shirt without a care in the world. Who would see him anyway? Who could scold him from the confines of his own four walls - a sanctuary within the palace grounds?

He let out a heavy exhale, grabbing a pillow to hug to his chest, eyes transfixed on the ceiling. “I’m tired,” he mused.

“You’ve had a long day, your Highness.”

The Prince hummed, the sound noncommittal as if he had simply been talking for the sake of filling the silence, not caring for an actual response. 

“Are you well versed in foreign folktales?” He asked apropos to nothing, turning his attention to the retainer lighting the last of the candles lining the wall. 

“I’m afraid you will have to be more specific, your Highness.”

At that, Jaemin huffed. “I’ll take that as a no.”

Thinking that was it, Jeno came towards the couch, waiting for Jaemin to get up so that he could get this over and done with for the night. 

Jaemin did meet his eye, an understanding look flickering behind the two pools of amber. Reluctantly, he sat himself up, his posture slouched. He waited for a minute before he hauled himself up, standing in front of Jeno, their bodies much closer than necessary. Yet he didn’t pull away - neither of them did. 

Instead, Jaemin leaned closer, head tilted ever so slightly to the side as his gaze became piercing. One second he was dim and subdued, and the next he seemed to be able to peer right through Jeno’s soul. His tongue poked out from between the soft cushions of his pink lips akin to a snake, his predatory gaze keeping Jeno frozen in place. 

Nothing that could faze him though. 

Not like Jaemin hoped. 

The Prince raised his hand, bringing it to Jeno’s face. He pressed his index into Jeno’s cheekbone.

“A mole,” he commented, the force of his finger against the point forcing Jeno to briefly turn to the side as if he were a piece of meat to be ogled. “Your cousin had one too. Right here,” Jaemin said, turning Jeno to face him again, this time so that he could jab his finger above the corner of his mouth. “Must run in the family.”

“Must be the case,” Jeno uttered, earning himself a mild smirk from the Prince. “Now, if you would, let me help with your shirt, your Highness.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Jaemin said, taking a small step back before spinning around to let Jeno deal with all the intricate ties and buckles done up across the expanse of his back. 

Just like in the morning, Jeno made quick work of it, his fingers nimble and light. Good for pick-pocketing. 

“The rabbit approached the fox, soft foot in front of the other as the forest creatures watched on in horror,” Jaemin recited in a pleasant drawl, his voice picking up a honeyed timbre, smooth and melodic to the ears. “The fox too looked on, confused by the round white ball tapping up a storm as it came nearer. ‘What are you doing?’ Asked the fox. ‘Don’t you see I’m a fox and you a rabbit? Why do you come towards me?’ The rabbit came to a halt, twitching its nose up at the fox. ‘Why are you sat here all alone? Asked the rabbit,” Jaemin paused, feeling the pressure around his torso dissipate after Jeno had undone the tight lacing. “Do you know this one?”

“It’s a popular tale,” Jeno replied. “Of course I do.”

Pleased, Jaemin smiled to himself. “My mother was fond of it,” he explained and Jeno caught the way the Prince’s attention fell to the mantle piece above the unlit fireplace. “Though she knew it was overly idealistic. And the sicker she got, the more she told me that being like the rabbit was noble yet dangerous. I mean, you can’t expect everyone to be as nice as a fairytale fox now, can you?”

Jeno was convinced Jaemin just liked the sound of his own voice. 

“A rabbit which befriends the fox. A fox which doesn’t kill the rabbit. What an idealistic little story.”

He simply continued with the ties, undoing one after another until he was finally done. With that, he helped Jaemin slip out of his jacket and shirt, leaving the young man’s chest bare. 

Jeno didn't really think of it much in the morning, but after seeing Jaemin dolled up all day he had to admit that his appearance was deceptive. With all the frills and laces, the tightly pinched fabric, and the floral colours of his clothes, Jaemin seemed smaller. His chest and shoulders and the curve of his hips. 

But as he stood now, Jeno was left baffled wondering how all of that fit beneath some garments. 

He also wondered how he maintained his physique given how Jeno hadn't seen him finish a single proper meal the entire day. Not that it really concerned him; Jaemin’s health wasn't really his top priority considering he'd kill him all the same when the day came.

“I can handle myself from here,” Jaemin declared. He stepped forward, increasing the minimal distance between them. Casually he undid the buttons keeping up his slacks, surprising Jeno who fully assumed he'd undress after Jeno left. But alas, that wasn't the case.

Jaemin kicked off the garment and tossed it back at Jeno, the fabric landing in his arms after making brief contact with his face. Wonderful. 

“You're dismissed,” the Prince declared, looking back at Jeno, the golden chain around his neck catching the soft candle light. The pendant was of a bird - possibly a swallow given the split tail - and Jaemin had kept it beneath his shirt the whole day, treating it as a keepsake instead of a piece meant to be shown off.

“Of course, your Highness,” Jeno said with a bow, folding the clothes over his arms. “Rest well.”

Jaemin hummed, waving his hand to hurry Jeno out. As the servant reached the door he did halt him. 

“Don't forget breakfast,” he said. “I want it in my room.”

“Of course, your Highness. That shall be arranged.”

“Good. You can go now.”

The second he left the Prince’s bedroom, Jeno felt a heavy exhaustion seep into his bones, every muscle aching. His head hurt too. A lot.

Just a few more months of this.

Absolutely wonderful.  

♤♡◇♧

Jaemin did retire for the night relatively early - at least in comparison to the Regent who believed sleeping the entire night was a waste of time. To each their own. However that did mean that Jeno could get close to the other palace staff who had completed their duties for the day.

The kitchen was cleaned and ready for the morning, the maids had completed their cleaning runs, and most of the servants were now in their communal space, enjoying themselves before they would have to rest for the day ahead. 

“Come join us,” Yeojin called from across a packed round table once Jeno passed the doorway. He didn't really need an invitation considering he had planned on joining them anyway so he retorted with a smile and sat down in the squeaking wooden chair offered to him.

“Any good at twenty-one?” The question came from a young man, skinny and with defined cheekbones. “And you don't have to lie saying it's above you; even Junmyeon plays with us.”

“Then yes: I do know how to play.”

Unfortunately for everyone playing at the table, Jeno was far too good at the game. Such was a given for a notorious cheat - though could you really call counting cards cheating? Jeno did earn himself a few complaints after a winning streak, but more than anything he seemed to gain a sort of trust from his skills. Camaraderie in gambling away food, money and chores, or whatever else was put on the line.

The main staff present consisted of Yeojin whom he had met in the morning in the kitchen, Chenle the stablehand, Giselle one of the maids, two older cooks - Kyungsoo and Kibum, and soon enough one of the guards. 

“Mark!” Chenle called out enthusiastically, knocking over the pile of cards Giselle had stacked up at the centre of the table, causing her to sigh and try again. “Come here!”

The name rang familiar, mentioned earlier by Junmyeon as one of the only people Jaemin seemed to be close to. As such, Jeno definitely needed to at the very least become cordial with him if he ever wanted to know any secrets exchanged by the Prince to his confidants. 

Mark didn’t argue, pulling himself a chair to squeeze his way in between Chenle and Yeojin.

“Are you gambling all your savings away again?” Mark asked, lips upturned into a mild smile. He picked up one of the coins by Chenle’s considerable stash, rolling it between his fingers before Chenle yanked it back from him. “Don’t you have better things to do? Horses to groom?”

“Even horses sleep, idiot.”

The guard rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. “Did the Prince have his desserts?” He asked, turning to Yeojin. 

“There’s still a few cupcakes left over,” the woman replied. “Treat yerself before they go stale.”

“Can’t let them go to waste,” Mark mused, hauling himself up to disappear through the doors once more, heading into the kitchen. 

“He’s a picky eater,” Kibum grumbled, tapping his nails on the wooden table. “It’s not like my cooking will kill him!”

“He did make me try a macaroon to see if it was poisoned,” Jeno said. Nobody seemed fazed by that.

“It’s because his mother was poisoned,” Giselle mused, causing Yeojin to give her a slap on the arm. “Oh come on! It’s true.”

“The Queen - may she rest in peace - was not poisoned,” Yeojin argued. “She was ill. Ya weren’t even here back then so of course ya wouldn’t know.”

Giselle shrugged, neatly stacking her cards up again. 

Mark returned soon enough, both hands occupied by baked goods. He was halfway through one when he spoke, mouth still full with the crumbly cupcake. “You’re new, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Jeno confirmed. “Lee Jeno. I’m the Prince’s new retainer.”

Mark swallowed the sweet mass in his mouth, struggling with how dry it was after being left out the majority of the day. “He’s never really had a retainer,” he mused. “I mean, like technically.”

“Jihoon was more of a babysitter than anything,” Giselle said. 

“He did try,” Mark argued. “All the advisory things. Tried bookkeeping and dealing with accounts but the Prince never let him.”

“So he became an over-glorified nanny,” Giselle added. “Not what you were probably expecting.”

“Undoubtedly easier though,” Kyungsoo mused, looking in horror as Mark took another big bite of his cupcake, sinking his teeth in as if he hadn’t eaten for days. 

“I’d say harder,” Kibum argued. “You’re basically dealing with a petulant child.”

“He’s not that bad. Just a bit… troubled,” Yeojin said, clearly having a soft spot for the Prince. 

“Well I think he’s fun,” Chenle chimed in. “Even if he’s a bit all over the place.”

“You can’t fix him,” Giselle murmured, amused. 

“That’s- I wasn’t-” Cheeks filled with a rosy pink, Chenle wanted to argue but held back - or more so struggled to come up with anything, stumbling over his own tongue. “I’m just saying: he’s interesting. He’s actually really nice when he comes over to the stables! Though I do not recommend being out anywhere nearby when he has archery practice,” he added, raising his finger in stern warning. “His bow skills are no joke.”

At that the rest of the table laughed, nodding in agreement. Clueless, Jeno raised his brows and looked around for an explanation, thankfully saved by Giselle.

“He’s really bad,” the woman said.

“I nearly died on multiple occasions,” Chenle continued. “One time I was heading to the stables and decided to have one of the apples because I deserved a treat, and right as I’m about to take a bite - shwoo! An arrow gets lodged in the apple. Turns out the Prince was on the field. Heard him get scolded after that.”

“It’s common knowledge to stay out of his way whenever he’s scheduled for a lesson,” Giselle said, sitting back in her chair, legs crossed. “Which should be tomorrow, right? I’ll have to avoid the grounds.”

After that they continued with a few games before the kitchen staff excused themselves. Jeno did mention the request for breakfast in bed, causing Kibum to roll his eyes because apparently that ruined his plan for what to make. Nevertheless, he acknowledged the request and waved everyone else goodbye. Next was Giselle, followed shortly after by Chenle who started dozing off from the silence of the common room.

And finally, it was just Jeno and Mark.

“He’s really not that bad,” the guard assured once it was just the two of them left. “And if he starts acting like an ass you can always scold him. I mean, as his retainer and or nanny, it’s also in your job description to keep him in line. Within reason. He won’t get mad if you’re not an ass about it.”

“I’ll consider it.”

Mark chuckled. “You seem decent.”

“That’s high praise.”

“Maybe.”

Unfortunately, speaking with Mark alone didn’t come easily - especially after he started to yawn, his exhaustion becoming increasingly apparent. 

“I think I’ll call it a night,” he declared, pushing himself out of the chair, the wooden feet dragging across the stone floor with an obnoxious screech. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sleep well,” Jeno said, only to hastily stop Mark. “Actually, Junmyeon mentioned doing practice runs in the palace to get used to the layout. I was thinking of doing some tomorrow night. Do you think you could mention that to some of the guards on duty then?”

“Sure. I’ll get Jaehyun to spread the word,” the guard assured. “But as a word of caution, don’t go near the Regent’s quarters. He tends to stay up late and might see you.”

“Noted. Thank you.”

Not wanting to sit around alone, Jeno decided to call it a night as well. He did peek into the kitchen before returning to his bedroom, sneaking out one of the last few remaining cupcakes as well as a macaroon. He wasn’t one to like wasting food, after all.

In the comfort of his chambers, Jeno got ready for the night, taking out his blank sketchbook to unwind before he finally couldn’t stay awake any longer.

The first full day seemed successful enough.

Chapter Text

Jaemin really was abysmal at archery. Not in a he can’t hold the bow right and his stance would make even a novice cry , but in a he’s almost there and that’s infuriating kind of way.

Sure, maybe Jeno wasn’t skilled with a bow and arrow, only ever used to close combat with a dagger and the occasional need to pick up a sword, but even he knew that Jaemin was off in a myriad of miniscule ways that had him off target time and time again. 

His teacher - a buff thirty or so year old woman - kept sighing and shaking her head. She must have seen this constantly over the course of the years, and even now Jaemin was as hopeless as ever. He had the stance down, and every time he pulled the string back it really did seem as if he was going to hit his target. But then he let go and that optimism shattered, replaced with a dejected yet knowing disappointment. 

It was painful to watch. 

So Jeno instead tried to get a better look of the wider open area. The training grounds were located a ways away from the main palace, closer to the stables and a self sustained garden and greenhouse than to the footpath leading to the castle. There were various dirt paths between the points of interest, as well as a much nicer main cobbled path going around the perimeter. The longer, more tedious way. 

The stable, Jeno muses, is to the right, the path decorated with varying shrubbery and a brief patch of trees. He wondered where exactly Chenle was when Jaemin sank an arrow into his apple because no matter how he looked at it, that was one miraculous shot.

Just how bad was he?

Somewhere amidst the constant misses, Jaemin’s lessons came to an end, punctuated by his teacher's baffled and tired “maybe next time will be better”. With that, Jaemin happily left the field, curling his fingers by his sides as they ached from constantly drawing the string. 

There was little to say regarding how the day went and honestly Jeno wouldn't be surprised if this is how things would look for the foreseeable future. Given Jaemin’s refusal to delegate any important work to him, Jeno just stood around, said “yes, your Highness” and occasionally assisted the young Prince. Again: it could be worse. At least he had a bed and good food. 

Though, Jaemin didn't retire early that night.

Instead, he had Jeno standing around aimlessly as he paced around his bedroom, reciting a passage from the book he was in the process of translating. It was odd but Jeno had to follow Jaemin's every whim. 

He stumbled over a particularly difficult word, groaning as he tossed the book on his desk. “You know, I'm convinced Marquess Kim is a sadist,” he said, flopping himself dramatically on his lounging couch. “He has no reason to come here, but he still does. Why? Because he wants to see me to nitpick at the way I breathe.”

Did this have anything to do with the book or was Jaemin just monologuing out of the blue? Could be either or.

“Quite frankly I think he has a stick up his ass and he decided to make that my problem,” Jaemin continued, grabbing a pillow to hug. “And I hate to prove him right, but I don't want to see him. What if I pretend to be sick? You'd cover for me, wouldn't you? Of course you would: you do anything you're told to.”

“If I may,” Jeno said, actually quite getting into his role. “I don't think avoiding Marquess Kim will make anything better. In fact, it will probably be worse.”

“I know,” Jaemin replied, words muffled by the pillow he tucked under his chin. “But I've had a relatively decent week so far and I really don't want him ruining my mood.”

If Jaemin considered this decent then Jeno worried what he thought was bad. Though one argument with a family member probably wasn't that harrowing in the grand scheme of things. 

The Prince huffed, turning his head to the side, eyes falling upon the fireplace. The mantle piece. 

Now that Jeno had more time to appreciate the loving space, he actually paid attention to the decorations around. 

The statues were of rabbits as opposed to multiple animals and the framed painting was of what Jeno assumed was the late Queen. Up close, Jeno recognised the shape of her face and the slope of her nose, posing a striking resemblance to Jaemin. Though the eyes were what Jeno found to be identical between the two. So much so that Jeno wondered if the late King's genes were anywhere on display.

For a while, Jaemin didn't say anything, simply staring ahead of himself.

It was a strange silence - one which ebbed into the realm of comfort. Jeno didn't see it as awkward or stifling, but as a means to simply exist, relaxing even if there was very little to feel at ease about.

Just like on the first day Jeno had spent with Jaemin, there was an intriguing air to the Prince and how he carried himself. Though he had his moments of unpredictable behaviour, saying something random or drastically shifting his mood, for the most part he seemed resigned.

Though perhaps that wasn't entirely how Jeno would put it. Resignation implied no will, and Jeno thought there was still a spark behind Jaemin’s eyes, no matter how small. Then perhaps placid? No. Still not right. 

As Jeno looked at the Prince, all he could think about was how he resembled a man that had simply accepted his fate, aware he had little say in the matter. Jeno was familiar with that look, seeing it a fair share in his life. At times, he was greeted with it as he pressed the sharp edge of a blade to someone's throat and they didn't fight back.

But Jaemin didn't have a knife to his throat just yet. Nevertheless, he believed he did. And that's how he lived, as if he would succumb to his attacker once the day finally came.

“When Marquess Kim arrives feel free to reign me in if I start going overboard,” Jaemin said, breaking the silence which had blanketed them both. “I'd feel better knowing I'm not giving him more reasons to think I'm a reckless fool.”

“Of course, your Highness.”

Jaemin clicked his tongue. “Is that all you can say?”

“I will do my best to reign you in, your Highness,” Jeno reiterated. But that didn't satisfy Jaemin.

Still, he didn't say anything more on the matter, sighing wistfully.

“Jaehyun said you'll be walking around the palace tonight. Perfect time to snoop around and uncover all our dirty deeds and secrets, don't you think so?”

“I assure you, your Highness, that this is nothing more than a routine walk of the grounds. And if I were to snoop, it would help if I knew my way around.”

At that, Jaemin laughed. It wasn't more than a humoured exhale, over as soon as it happened, but it was also the first time Jeno heard something more expressive than a groan or sigh from the Prince. 

“You're right about that,” Jaemin mused. “Either way, you're best staying clear of uncle's quarters. He doesn't like stragglers. Or anyone for that matter.”

“Thank you for your concern, your Highness.”

“And you can drop that,” the Prince added. “At least if it's just us two around. It sounds weird when you call me that.”

“If that's what you prefer.”

“Much better,” Jaemin said, sounding pleased. “You can go now. Enjoy your walk; it's going to be a rather long one.”

“Goodnight.”

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

When Jeno slipped out and walked down the corridor, he offered Jaehyun a polite nod before making his way onward. For now there was little reason for Jeno to sniff around the palace since he didn't even know where to begin, having very little to go off in terms of Jaemin’s social circle or any correspondence.

But he still had time for that.

For the time being, however, he really needed to familiarise himself with his new home.

♤♡◇♧

“If I squint hard enough, you resemble Marquess Kim,” Jaemin said in the morning, voice gruff with sleep as he rubbed his eyes. He was very much a heavy sleeper and difficult to wake up; Jeno had to resort to shaking the bed for him to even budge. 

Jeno quirked an eyebrow at the comment.

“That annoys me,” the Prince added, rolling over onto his side, back to Jeno. “Go change your face.”

“Unfortunately I cannot do that,” Jeno pointed out. “So you best stop squinting really hard.”

Jaemin exhaled, a relatively amused sound.

“But you need to get up unless you wish to keep Marquess Kim waiting.”

“He's here already?”

“If you keep delaying, then he'll be here by the time you get up.”

Jaemin huffed but admitted defeat nevertheless, hauling himself up with great effort. “Breakfast?” He asked, glancing over to the side only to find nothing. “Is your memory that bad already?”

“I have been instructed to bring you down for breakfast this morning. Regent’s orders.”

Junmyeon pulled him to the side last night, surprisingly also wandering around the palace long after nightfall. However, unlike Jeno, he wasn't walking around aimlessly ooh-ing and ahh -ing as he discovered yet another path to cut his time in half. That's when he delivered the news that the Regent wanted to have breakfast with Jaemin. Something Jeno knew the Prince wouldn't appreciate.

Jaemin groaned, dramatically collapsing back in the bed. “I don't want to.”

“I'm afraid that I can't do anything about it.”

“Regent’s orders,” the Prince grumbled. “Whose retainer are you?”

“Yours, your Highness.”

“Could have fooled me,” Jaemin murmured. Still, he decided he wouldn't mope around any longer, finally kicking the covers from himself to allow Jeno to get him ready. “But still bring breakfast to my room.”

“As you wish, your Highness.”

What proceeded was a standard morning with Jeno getting Jaemin dressed up. His clothes were chosen beforehand and this time around he was dressed in a pleasant hue of blue, light like the sky on a clear spring day. Jaemin didn't seem all that pleased by the day ahead, getting off to a bad start with a breakfast with his uncle and then the knowledge that Marquess Kim would arrive soon after that. 

The struggles of a monarch. How would he ever survive?

Jaemin still let Jeno do his job and followed after him after his appearance was up to standard. Though, he did end up making Jeno wait outside of his bedroom after he said he forgot something, rushing back inside. When he returned, he seemed slightly more upbeat, patting his pocket. 

The Regent was already there, waiting.

Again, Jaemin regarded him with a forced bow before taking his seat. They didn't speak after that, Jaemin’s presence was unneeded yet still required by the Regent. 

Jaemin ate more than Jeno expected him to, getting through his portion quickly to be able to excuse himself as soon as possible. And of course, the Regent didn't want him to leave just yet.

“I'm expecting you to come greet Marquess Kim upon his arrival,” the acting monarch said, catching the signs of Jaemin trying to slip away. “His visit is regarding your coronation, so it's only appropriate you're there.”

“And will I be involved in the conversation?”

“You'll be briefed later.”

“Right. My coronation but I can't even discuss it with anyone involved. Makes sense.”

“It's nothing to concern yourself with,” the older man assured. “And you will have a say on the finer details. This, however, is business. Trivial matters.”

“Doesn't sound trivial to me, but what would I know? I'll just have to take your word for it, won't I?”

Jaemin glared at the Regent, his cold gaze met with a tired one. 

“Whatever. I'll be off. Jeno,” he said as he got up, taking a sharp turn towards the door. “Let's go.”

♤♡◇♧

Jaemin was in the midst of a history lesson when the news of Marquess Kim's arrival was delivered. He instantly deflated, souring the mood with his huffing and puffing. With that, he was brought down to meet the man as was polite. 

“I'd rather be anywhere else right now,” the Prince muttered as he lined himself up next to the Regent, both men awaiting Marquess Kim's entrance in the main foyer. 

“Please keep that to yourself,” the Regent uttered, keeping a straight face. 

Before Jaemin could retort with anything, the doors were opened and in came the man Jeno assumed to be Marquess Kim. Also known as Kim Doyoung, although they weren't close enough for that. Still, Doyoung came in, led by the palace staff. He wasn't followed by a servant of his own, keeping only to himself for this short stay.

He was a slender man. His face was slim and long, and otherwise pleasant to the eye, drawing Jeno’s attention to the bow of his top lip and the alluring look in his eyes made all the more prominent by his straight brows. Age wise, he was somewhere in his mid to late thirties - early forties at most though there was a radiance to him that could fool anyone into knocking a few years off the actual age.

Dressed in a neat navy suit which hugged his body just right, accentuating his lithe build and overall elegance, Jeno had to admit that he was intrigued by him. After all, he was quite a sight.

“Marquess Kim,” the Regent greeted, sounding happy to see the other man. “How nice of you to join us. I hope you had an easy journey.”

“It is a pleasure to be here,” Doyoung replied. “And it was alright, thank you.”

“Wonderful. Wonderful,” the Regent mused before promptly turning his attention to Jaemin, urging him to speak.

“Ah, right,” Jaemin said as if he had dozed off completely. “Marquess Kim,” he greeted with a small bow. He fully intended to leave it at that. To an extent, Jeno wanted to laugh - though he wasn't fully sure if he wanted to laugh because of Jaemin or laugh at him.

Feeling bad and maybe a bit uncomfortable as the seconds of silence drew longer, Jeno cleared his throat which would have been rude on any other occasion, but that didn't matter. That was his signal. His way of saying ‘it's time to reel you in’ to Jaemin.

From the light scolding on Jeno's part, Jaemin inhaled and tried again. “It is a pleasure to have you here,” he said, offering the man a saccharine smile. “I must say, your presence has brightened up my day already.”

Jeno started coughing, alarm bells ringing at the severity of Jaemin’s sarcasm. He was most definitely going overboard.

Jaemin sighed, glancing over at his retainer with a frown. Annoyed not at Jeno but at the fact his fun had to come to an end. He straightened his posture and turned to Doyoung again. Third time’s the charm.

“Please make yourself at home and feel free to let us know if you require anything.” 

Intrigued by his sudden change in attitude, Doyoung quirked an eyebrow. His gaze then fell onto Jeno, his mouth forming a small o . “New retainer?” He asked, Jeno’s presence piquing his interest.

Jeno responded with a polite bow. 

“Seems like he listens to you,” Doyoung said, looking over Jaemin's shoulder. 

That was a surprise to Jeno because Jaemin had little reason to actually listen to Jeno. If anything, Jeno was simply reminding him to reign it in. Nothing else. 

“That's good. I'm hopeful you'll be able to take care of our Prince,” Doyoung added, regarding Jaemin with a brief look, his distaste apparent. “Nevertheless, shall we take it to your office?” He asked, turning to the Regent as if Jaemin wasn't even there. 

“Of course. After me.”

Once the two men left, Jaemin remained where he stood, his jaw clenched. He grinned his teeth, the force of his annoyance palpable. And he waited. For what, Jeno didn't know. It took him a minute or two to finally move.

Jeno followed.

♤♡◇♧

Doyoung stayed a total of three days. For all three days, Jaemin was on edge. Annoyed. Irritable. He kept commenting on Jeno's appearance every morning, his vision blurred with sleep. “I keep waking up to another nightmare,” he said, causing Jeno to roll his eyes, certain that Jaemin wouldn't see it anyway.

For politeness sake, Jaemin did attend a dinner with the Regent and Doyoung. To everyone's relief he behaved himself, but he also didn't actually say anything in the first place. There was a very clear line drawn between him and the two other men, not able to get a word in as they discussed trade matters and the politics of a neighbouring nation. 

All Jaemin could do was keep up an appearance as he got through all courses. 

By the time Doyoung finally left, Jaemin was quiet. His annoyance was still present, yes, but he didn't verbalise it. He simply went on with the day, going through another painful archery lesson, the disappointment of it soothed by a music lesson in the evening.

He was good. Maybe Jeno wasn't an expert, but he knew that much for certain. 

The ease with which his deft fingers danced across the keys only came with experience. And as he played, he poured his all into it, no matter what piece it was. His teacher did very little in terms of teaching. Instead, he listened along, appreciating the story Jaemin decided to share with his music. 

It was a sombre one. Wistful. Delicate moments broken up with a nervous tempo that crashed and burned into nothingness, plucking at the notes like heartstrings. There was a desperation in the way he played when given the chance to go off the script, possessed by emotion as music spilled out of him.

And by the end, he didn't say anything other than thank his teacher for his time. 

It took time for his mood to shift into something Jeno was more familiar with. Jeno knew that the Prince was difficult to deal with and that he had his weird quirks, joking one minute and the next acting like a petulant child, but the state he was in after Doyoung's visit was something unprecedented.

For someone with a seemingly devil may care attitude, Jaemin did actually care a lot. Joking about death, acting as if it was close and giving it little attention, to being hurt about his reputation being tarnished. 

Doyoung didn't annoy him because he was some sort of heartless fiend, but because Jaemin didn't want to be the man he had painted him out to be. Or at least that's what Jaemin’s behaviour read as to Jeno. 

To an extent, Jeno felt bad for the Prince. As bad as he could feel about a man he was meant to kill. Spoiled Prince or not, he did come across as more human than Jeno expected him to. Even if he wasn't the greatest Prince or future King, he wanted to try. 

When Jeno left Jaemin for the day, Jaemin seemed content laying on his couch, arms folded and eyes directed to the ceiling. He liked ending his day like that - or so Jeno thought, unaware of what the Prince got up to in his room after Jeno shut the doors after himself. 

The days following weren't eventful and Jeno simply settled himself into his new routine. Jeno was a creature of habit which honestly didn't suit his career path - then again he never technically went into it willingly. If he did have a choice, however, Jeno might have liked following in his mother's footsteps to become a seamster - maybe a tailor.

His mother had her own studio, leaving it in the hands of her employees when she fell sick. However, when she passed it ended up being sold off by Jeno’s father who went on to use the funds for his worsening addiction. It was a shame and it gave Jeno nothing to fall back on, even though the studio wouldn't have saved him from his father's debts anyway. 

But it was nice to daydream once in a while, wondering what life could have been like instead. 

Jeno thought he'd be able to spend hours upon hours working on his craft, the time flashing by in the blink of an eye as he focused on his work. It would consume him, but he would enjoy every second of it. He liked the routine and continuous tasks, preferring that to having to think on his feet.

Which is why Johnny probably insisted on him in the first place. Given the long time frame for this job, it was important that he sent someone that could just work . Someone that wouldn't mind the repetitive days that lacked the thrill of robbing and killing. Not that Jeno found those fun. Simply things he did. 

If anything, despite having to serve someone, Jeno treated this assignment as a holiday. He didn't have to kill anyone until a specified time in the future and he didn't have to really commit any crimes in the meantime? Sounds perfect. To think he was so opposed to it in the first place. 

But considering how nobody had caught on and treated him like any other person simply working at the palace, he didn't have a reason to worry anymore. It also helped that Jaemin seemed somewhat oblivious. Sure, he did ask Jeno if he was out to kill him, but gathering from everything the other staff had told him, that was a frequent thing he said - especially to new faces at the palace.

Jeno actually started to enjoy all his chores, his end goal of assassinating the Prince buried beneath all his piling responsibilities. Taking care of Jaemin, making sure he was punctual and well dressed, organising his meals, communicating with the other staff and alerting them to any changes - he found it thrilling. 

“You've found your footing, haven't you?” Junmyeon said at the end of a long day, surprising the other staff as he appeared in the common room before everyone went to sleep. With how the Regent stayed up late, it was rare to see him around outside of time actually spent working. “It's like you've been here for years already.”

Unfortunately, Jeno was lacking a lot in terms of knowledge, because as the other staff talked, Jeno was left clueless. He could more or less gauge the relations of various individuals within the royal court and their opinions of Jaemin from gossip, but he had no backstories or detailed information. 

What he did gather, however, was that a lot of people didn't like Jaemin. Officials, politicians, Earls, Viscounts, so on and so forth. All had different reasons varying from trivial to apparently more serious - not that Jeno knew the intricacies anyway. 

Though he definitely knew more than he did a week ago.

However, it was not enough to share with Johnny.

Jeno considered writing to the man, using an agreed address to send letters to. Staff were able to send parcels and letters with a collection happening once a week unless something more urgent was needed - though for that they would have to personally request it from Junmyeon who would arrange a sooner delivery. 

It didn't seem like correspondences were checked, but just to be safe, Jeno and Johnny had their ways to convey hidden messages within texts. From what Junmyeon had told him “not even the Regent is made aware of the letters received by anyone within the palace - not even those meant for the Prince.” He really meant it because in the short time he had been here, Jeno had been surprised to see Jaemin with a random letter already read and discarded during one of his lessons, shredded before Jeno could even try and get a glimpse of it. 

But nevertheless, Jeno had nothing to say. 

So far all he could really mention was that Jaemin wasn't popular. It honestly wouldn't be surprising if someone he met during his stint at the palace was his employer. Even Doyoung was a viable option. He would have a motive. He also had the money. 

Other than that, however, there wasn't much to say other than writing to confirm with Johnny that he was in fact still alive. He probably figured out as much already. Hopefully.

For the time being, Jeno decided he would lay low and enjoy his new routine.

It could be worse.

♤♡◇♧

Jeno's first week was a success. Sure, he didn't uncover any secret alliances, but he definitely proved himself as a great retainer for the Prince. At least that's what everyone kept saying, because apparently Jaemin actually seemed to acknowledge him. Not a lot, but more than nothing.

He didn't ask Jeno for his advice like one usually would with a royal retainer, but he did like to hear his opinion. Of course, it was all for small, practically insignificant matters. 

“I think I'm going to skip archery today.”

“You'll never get better with that attitude.”

“Get me another slice of cake.”

“How about you actually eat a proper meal for once?”

Things like that. 

Not that Jeno really cared when he said all those things. All part of the act. 

Jaemin didn't talk a lot. Well, technically he did , but there was little substance to his words. He could ramble on and on, but at the end it was as if he said nothing at all. When asked something, he would find a way to avoid the topic or go on a tangent, losing his trail of thought in the process. Whether it was avoidance or just a general lack of coherent thoughts, Jeno wasn't sure just yet. 

Because whilst he wasn't dumb, he really didn't seem fully there . Sometimes he would just zone out and stare, startling Jeno at how still he could stay, turning into a statue in the blink of an eye. 

Yet he'd always be staring at his retainer, his unwavering gaze sending a chill down Jeno's spine. It was uncanny and eerie. Almost calculated. 

He thought of Jaemin like a snake then, dangerous and captivating. Unblinking and set on its prey. 

In those moments, Jeno was left wondering if Jaemin was untangling the web of lies surrounding the retainer, having him pinned down as a fraud already. But the instant Jaemin snapped out of it and acted like nothing ever happened, he found his thoughts irrational.

So he let Jaemin and his odd quirks be. As far as he was concerned, the Prince had nothing to go off anyway.

And Jaemin did have a few oddities around him. Such as his fascination with the palace ledger. 

Jaemin didn't have a reason to go through the account books since that was the job of the royal accountant, but he still did it. When he had time in between his lessons or any other affairs, instead of relaxing he would head to where all the records were filed to run through a ledger for a given period. 

He entered a zone with the books in front of him, flipping between pages and taking notes in a separate leather bound book. During this time he wouldn't say a thing to Jeno, not even acknowledging his existence until he was done. Instead, Jaemin would mutter under his breath - exasperated and sometimes hopeful as if he had stumbled upon a trail of crumbs only to end up disappointed in the very end.

“Any luck, your Highness?” Jeno asked at the end of Jaemin’s most recent fruitless investigation. Because that's what Jeno assumed it to be, the young Prince searching for a conspiracy at his doorstep. 

Jaemin frowned, the expression lacking any of the humour Jeno had met him with. When he looked like that - jaw clenched, brows in a straight, displeased line, eyes cold and sharp - Jeno thought the Prince looked rather frightening and not like a bumbling fool.

Jeno froze, fixing his posture before clearing his throat, pretending that he hadn't said anything.

Once he was done, Jaemin acted like nothing happened, returning to his usual self. It was jarring.

On his free day, Jaemin did spend some time lazing around though. With absolutely nothing scheduled, Jaemin fancied himself a walk in the gardens. 

The Prince picked out a book but then considered another and then another, hesitating as he couldn't figure out what he was in the mood for. So, in the end, Jeno was made to carry around three hardbacks for him until Jaemin decided he had enough of walking and finally settled on a spot to sit down.

Jeno expected him to choose one of the benches scattered around, so when Jaemin plopped himself down on a patch of grass by a row of flowerbeds blooming with vivid reds, yellows and oranges without a single care in the world, Jeno stared. 

“What?” Jaemin asked, making himself comfortable. 

“Your clothes.”

“Will get washed, yes,” the Prince uttered with the type of patronising tint that left Jeno feeling stupid. “Now give me a book. Any book.”

After a second to process Jaemin’s words, Jeno handed him the first book he got his hand on. “What happened to being picky?” He asked, on one hand finding Jaemin’s antics funny whilst on the other feeling annoyed since he had to lug the books around in the first place. They weren't light.

“I decided I'm not feeling picky right now,” Jaemin retorted with a brief grin, baring his teeth for a split second. 

Jeno hadn’t seen him smile properly but even with the disingenuous or sarcastic smirks, Jeno thought it would be an odd occurrence. Even if he has many teeth as any other person, something about his smile paired with his devious eyes seemed inhuman. Unnerving.

“Ooh, maybe not that one though,” Jaemin said, handing the book back to Jeno without even looking at it. 

Jeno tried the second one.

Also not what he wanted.

“Third time’s the charm,” Jaemin said with a satisfied, teasing laugh. 

He then laid down on the grass, knees bent, the book resting on his stomach as for the time being he decided to photosynthesise. The sun above was too harsh for him to keep his eyes open, and as such his lashes sprawled across his cheek, delicate like the wings of a butterfly.

“Are you just going to stand there?” Jaemin asked, sensing Jeno looming over him. 

“Am I dismissed?”

“Not what I said,” the Prince retorted, peeking up at Jeno with one squinted eye. He considered him for a second before he patted the clipped grass next to him, beckoning Jeno to sit down. “Unless you're worried about your clothes?” He then added, teasing.

A knowing, satisfied smirk spread its way across the man's meticulously sculpted face once he heard the rustle of Jeno’s clothes and sensed him next to himself. Jeno hesitated with how to sit, settling on cross-legged in the end.  

“Isn't this nice?” Jaemin mused, tapping a finger on the book resting on the flat of his stomach. 

“I suppose it is. Though wouldn't you prefer to be alone?”

“I don't mind,” Jaemin replied. “You're fun.”

“Fun?”

The Prince hummed, spreading his legs apart and snapping them shut again, repeating the motion a few times. In that moment he resembled a fidgeting child, unsure what to do with itself without some sort of stimulation. 

“How?”

“You just are,” Jaemin replied. “You're weird for a retainer. You try to act proper, but your face gives you away.”

Jeno stilled, carefully listening and in part worrying about what Jaemin would say next. 

“Jihoon was straight - emotionless. It didn't feel human. Most people here feel like that.”

“But I feel human?” Jeno asked, finding Jaemin’s conclusion rather ironic. A killer - an assassin - being more human than everyone else at the palace. 

“Yes. So I don't really mind having you around. Even if you are my nanny,” he added with a light chuckle. “Plus you're blocking the sun from my face so I need you to stay.”

Jeno let out an airy, knowing ah at that. “So this is all for your own gain?”

“You know me. But don't worry, I'll let you read one of my books to pass the time. You do know how to read, don't you?” 

Jeno rolled his eyes. “Of course I know how to read.”

“Then go ahead,” Jaemin said, nudging Jeno with his gaze to pick up one of the two remaining hardbacks. 

And so, Jeno reached for the top one, giving it a curious once over before flipping to the first page. For a second or two he thought he was good to go, however as his brain caught onto what he saw in front of himself, he realised that the ink on the paper made no sense to him whatsoever. He furrowed his brows, ears tinged red with embarrassment as Jaemin started to laugh.

The sound snapped Jeno out of his moment of shame, surprised by it. Whilst there was some deviousness to it - something which Jeno now expected from Jaemin - there was also genuine glee laced into it, weaved in so precisely and tactfully that it was difficult to notice at first, like a thread bringing a garment together, hidden from plain sight. It was enough for Jeno to find himself stumped, his chest tight and eyes wide. 

Yet the sincerity dissipated as soon as Jeno sensed it, being obscured by a devilish, teasing mirth. But even then, Jaemin promptly pulled himself together.

“Ah, you should have seen your face,” the Prince mused, wiping a fake tear from his eyes. “My bad; try the other one.”

Jeno looked down at Jaemin, raising a singular sceptical brow up at him.

“I promise that you'll be able to read that one.”

Jeno took his word for it. 

Thankfully, Jaemin hadn't lied to him. Not that Jeno really cared about reading anything at the moment, even if he had nothing better to do. Still, he turned the pages, taking in the not all that interesting contents. Next to him, Jaemin had finally picked up his book, holding it up above his head in a manner that most definitely wasn’t comfortable in the long run.

The Prince flicked through the pages, an unguarded look on his face. Jeno kept glancing over at him from the corner of his eyes, a part of him finding amusement in the way Jaemin reacted to the story progressing in front of his eyes. A real page turner. 

“It’s rude to stare,” Jaemin uttered, his lips twitching upwards.

“I’m not staring,” Jeno argued. “Simply checking if you’ve fallen asleep yet or not.”

Jaemin hummed. “Now that you mention it… I could do with a nap.”

“Should we-”

Before Jeno could suggest heading back inside, Jaemin snapped his book closed and handed it over to Jeno. 

“Watch over me, won’t you?” Jaemin asked, making himself comfortable, rolling onto his side, back to Jeno.

Was he stupid? Genuinely, was he an idiot? 

Alright, maybe Jaemin had no reason to suspect anything about Jeno, but still. Where was the reservation? The self-preservation? A bit over a week in and Jaemin was now all buddy-buddy with Jeno? Was he- 

Jeno shook his head. He was Jaemin’s retainer. Of course Jaemin would have to trust him to some extent. The odd, sinking feeling in Jeno’s stomach came from the fact that he simply knew the truth and Jaemin didn’t; he knew he could kill Jaemin at any moment, whereas Jaemin didn’t - even if, technically, Jeno really wouldn’t snap his neck all willy-nilly anyway. 

“This is where you actually answer,” Jaemin murmured.

“Right. Of course, your Highness.”

The Prince hummed, content.

So, as Jaemin enjoyed his nap, Jeno picked up the book the Prince had been reading prior and flicked through the pages. It was a collection of fairy-tales and many of the pages had been dogeared in the past. Compared to the other two books, this one had been read time and time again, looking considerably older as well, the spine worn with age. 

Jeno glanced over at Jaemin and then the book in his hold, something about this detail causing his chest to constrict. He couldn’t put a finger to it just yet, grinding his teeth as he opened up to a random story in the book, proceeding to read through it himself. 

♤♡◇♧

Jaemin was expected to attend a meeting with the royal court, the topic of it revolving around his soon to be coronation - well, at least some part of it was regarding that. “They rarely keep on one topic for too long,” Jaemin explained. “We’ll probably go through a wide range of topics today, so best be prepared. It’ll be… fun to say the least.”

As such, the Prince dressed to impress - “not that it really matters when half of them hate me and the other half feel indifferent to my existence” - and set out with Jeno by his side. As always, his outfits were chosen out for him advance, this time going for a deep mauve, white and hints of gold. It seemed appropriate, standing out as the monarch amidst high ranking officials.

Before they set off, however, Jaemin made Jeno wait as he went through his bedside drawer to pull out a jewellery box. He set it down and opened it, going through it to emerge with a folded piece of fabric - white with golden thread around the borders. It was nothing more than a handkerchief like the one he already had tucked in his breast pocket, yet he acted like it was something far more special.

Jaemin carefully folded the fabric and put it inside his pocket, patting it down to ensure it was with him. 

“Alright, let’s go.”

The gathering took place within the palace. Jaemin arrived when most of their guests were already present, not wanting to sit around idly as he waited for everyone. 

To pass some extra time, Jaemin started pointing at certain officials to gossip about them. In a sense, that did make Jeno’s life easier; whilst he did study the members of the royal court just enough to get him by if asked, he wasn’t confident with their faces and names. And so, Jaemin giving him all the details was of use if he ever needed to show off some wider knowledge.

“Oh, look,” he said with hushed excitement. “Earl Xiao’s here.”

Jeno followed the direction of Jaemin’s finger, locking in on a man that looked the same age as the Regent. He was a larger man, face round and adorned by a styled moustache. He dabbed some sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief as he took his seat, greeting the other men and women around him. 

“Is it strange for him to be here?” Jeno asked, voice hushed as he leaned slightly towards Jaemin. 

“Depends,” the Prince replied, eyes flickering up to Jeno for a split second before looking back down to the filling up seats. “In the past he really didn’t care to attend every meeting,” he explained. “He’d only come for the ones that he really needed to be at. But recently he’s been coming more often - I say it’s because he’s trying to win favour in the court. He used to be relatively popular back in the day - back when my mother was still alive,” he explained. “They were close. But after she passed… Well, he didn’t seem to like the replacement.” 

Jaemin directed his attention to the Regent, the man at the centre of attention. 

“I reckon he’s just here now to regain his old standing. Or, I suppose it’s more appropriate to say he’s trying to win some favour for his son.”

“His son?”

Jaemin hummed. “Xiao Dejun,” he said, the name coming off strangely on his tongue - not quite scathing, but not entirely fond either. Something moderate. Maybe even regretful. “He’s decent - a bit odd, but decent nevertheless.”

“Is Earl Xiao trying to place him in a position of power?” Jeno asked, curious now that Jaemin offered him a morsel of information.

At that, Jaemin scoffed. “He’d like to make his son King,” he stated, causing Jeno to move backwards slightly. “Probably. I mean, who wouldn’t? There is a way he could do that. It’s an archaic rule, only utilised once: right after its inception. It’s convoluted and designed to prevent the rightful next in line to take the throne since back in the day, the next in line was… unpopular, to put it lightly. However, it does require the death of the soon to be monarch. Quite a tight window on it as well. As I say: very archaic and convoluted.”

Jeno blinked, befuddled. 

As Jaemin resumed his once over of the court to make out the familiar faces, Jeno focused on Earl Xiao, his brow furrowed in confusion. 

Surely… Surely that wasn’t his employer, right?

Right?

“Though even with that being said, he’s a traditionalist - loyal to the crown,” Jaemin continued. “He was close to my mother. Close enough that I believe he backed most of her policies. Close enough to-” He paused, tossing the thought aside. “As far as everyone here goes, he’s not that bad in regards to politics.” He paused, contemplative, before his eyes fell elsewhere, his expression souring. “And then there’s Marquess Kim,” Jaemin muttered. “Even the back of his head annoys me.”

“Then I’d encourage you to not look.”

“Easier said than done,” Jaemin said, shoving his hand in his pocket to fiddle with the handkerchief he placed there earlier in the day. “He’s going to talk a lot today. I’m convinced he likes the sound of his own voice.”

“The same could be said for yourself,” Jeno said without thinking, his eyes widening in horror.

However, instead of finding it offensive, Jaemin laughed - brief and subdued, yet still a laugh.

“And perhaps I could say the same about you. You’re rather chatty for a retainer - for a nanny.”

“I apologise.”

Jaemin waved his hand, dismissive. “No need. It’s fun.”

“You're fun.”

“You're weird for a retainer.”

But apparently that’s what Jaemin liked.

“I wonder if Viscount Choi will show up,” Jaemin continued, sounding oddly hopeful. “I actually like him, even if he’s relatively indifferent about me.”

“I find it hard to believe anyone would be indifferent about you, your Highness.”

Jaemin scoffed. “Indifferent is being polite,” he stated. “Though I… I do quite like Viscount Choi. Sometimes it feels like maybe he-” And Jaemin just stopped himself, shaking his head. “Not that it matters. It’s too late anyway,” he added, the last part barely a mumble. 

The meeting commenced by the turn of the hour, all the required officials present. At first, Jeno didn’t really pay attention and neither did Jaemin as the Regent and other members of the royal court exchanged pleasantries and metaphorically jerked each other off, trying to win the other’s favours. Jaemin rolled his eyes at the showcase, checking on Jeno to see his reaction as well.

Just like Jaemin mentioned earlier, the topic of the coronation was brief. After all, there were far more pressing matters to discuss. It was actually kind of hilarious how the coronation was brought up for maybe five minutes before the conversation spiraled into something else. At first it seemed that the budget for it would be discussed, only for a completely different thing to be brought up. 

Nobody could keep on topic. Funny but also concerning.

Jeno didn’t really know what exactly he should be listening on or if he was safe to tune the incessant jargon for the next few hours for his own sanity. Although, he did perk up a few times when he heard Onyan mentioned. It probably wasn’t anything to be surprised by, but Jeno did wonder how his homeland was being talked about.

A very much mixed bag. 

Jeno tried to keep his expressions contained, but at times he couldn’t help but quirk a brow or tilt his head in confusion. Sometimes it was utter bafflement, and sometimes he sensed malice from the officials below, causing Jeno to feel heat rising up. When that happened, he glanced over at Jaemin, the Prince equally as puzzled. 

“He’s bleeding them dry,” Jaemin muttered, eyes trained on the Regent and the group of enthusiastic old men and women, cheering on for his proposals. “As if that worked out the first time around.”

The Prince glanced back at Jeno, gauging his reactions. 

“Do you think he wants a war or is he just stupid?” Jaemin asked, startling Jeno.

“Pardon?”

“My uncle,” Jaemin reiterated. “Do you think he’s doing this out of pure hatred, or is he just too idiotic to realise he’s repeating history?”

Jeno opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Thankfully, he didn’t need to respond when Jaemin heard something so preposterous that he lurched out of his seat and yelled a loud and clear “objection!”

Once Jaemin became involved, Jeno did properly tune in. 

Granted, Jaemin didn’t actually get to participate all that much - something which became increasingly more apparent the longer Jeno watched the Prince try to speak up and get his word in. 

He tried to get his points across, only to be promptly shut down. Just like with his arguments regarding the fees and tolls and countless illogical financial strategies suggested towards trade and the already rocky relationship with Onyan. He clearly had a lot to say, but as if not wanting to actually listen to him, the court simply decided to leave the matter for another day and move on.

Jaemin was visibly annoyed by that.

“Imbeciles,” he grumbled under his breath. 

Then when it came to discussing the budget for the coronation, Jaemin was quick to agree that it was excessive and offered a proposition on how to appropriately cut it down, only for a bunch of old men to start arguing about insignificant matters. 

There was a conflict of interest - multiple conflicts of interests as different parties benefited from running up the costs, pocketing the gold for providing services, goods and so on. Even if Jaemin had something useful to say, they would always be able to find a fault in it. 

As for the Regent, he did speak and lead the conversation. Yet the longer Jeno actively paid attention, the more he came to realise that his words came out just as Jaemin opened his mouth to get something out. It wasn’t always, but more often than not, he cut Jaemin off at the right moment. 

Jaemin was getting annoyed, straining as he considered jumping out of his seat to just shout, doing anything to be heard. It was a gamble - be docile, or be aggressive. Either way, he would end up paying the price in one way or another. 

He remained as he was. Jaw clenched, Jaemin grinded his teeth as he fiddled with the handkerchief in his pocket, running the sleek fabric between his thumb and index methodically as if in a trance, focusing on anything but the disastrous scene playing out in front of him. 

Once again, there was a tightness in Jeno’s chest that he couldn’t explain.

It stayed with him until the meeting was over and he escorted Jaemin out, the Prince no longer fiddling with the contents of his pocket, having to look proper and put together as officials poured out of the hall to only give Jaemin a mere look and bow. Some glances felt scathing whereas some felt like nothing more than a formality, otherwise emotionless. 

Maybe Jeno wasn’t great with politics, but nothing he saw today made him understand why there would be such hostility towards the young royal. Was he too meek? Too weak in their eyes? No backbone to stand up for himself? Or were his ideas just that bad or got in the way of others' selfish interests?

When it seemed that someone wanted to approach Jaemin - to engage him in conversation and a debate - someone was always there to swoop them away. As if nobody was allowed to so much as exchange a word with him. 

“Your Highness,” they called. “Please may I- Pardon? Right I- Well alright,” the man - who Jeno now recognised as Earl Xiao - continued, whisked away by another court member all too eager to whisk him away. Still, the larger man kept glancing back at Jaemin. But there was simply no use. 

Jaemin didn’t fight back. One too many outbursts perhaps taught him to simply stay in his lane. 

He was used to it. 

Defeated, even.

“Well that was fun,” Jaemin said, voice seeping with sarcasm. He pushed the doors open for himself and stomped inside his bedroom, pulling at the constricting fabric around his neck. He tossed it on the floor, following with his jacket, tossing it without a care. 

Jeno picked them up.

“Might as well not have been there,” the Prince continued. “That would save me some face. But no: I have to be there as the future King. It’s only right and I have to show myself to be an active member. I have to show this and that but what’s the point if I can’t even say a thing?” 

He hastily continued with the rest of his clothes, shaking with frustration to the point he struggled to undo the buttons of his shirt. In the end he just groaned and left it be, running a hand through his hair as he turned to look at the large window peering out over the gardens.

That did very little to calm him down.

“And heaven forbid I try to even talk to anyone afterwards! The last time I tried I was reprimanded because I apparently was bothering Duchess Yoon! As if she didn’t look like she wanted to discuss the disastrous ruling on tariffs which, mind you, I had no say in whatsoever despite my uncle announcing that it was a joint agreement. Joint agreement in his hallucinations, perhaps.”

Jeno carefully folded the clothes over his arm, waiting for Jaemin to say something else. It didn’t feel right to speak right now. Not when Jaemin was so clearly heated over the events of the meeting.

“And don’t remind me of the disaster relief for Onyan!” Jaemin continued, visibility angered by the mere mention of it. “Suppliers? Not my choice. In fact I was so careful about selecting the right ones that I didn’t sleep for days on end. So how did the mishap happen? Don’t ask me because I quite frankly don’t know. Same with the food. I heard it arrived damp and mouldy. I just-” Jaemin groaned, running a hand through his hair.

He then just stood there, gripping onto the dark strands of hair, watching the world outside.

“He does that on purpose, you know?” After a few seconds, he looked back over at Jeno, the rims of his eyes showing hints of red. “My uncle. He does this to humiliate me,” he elaborated, digging his hand back into his pocket. “And it’s worse because he puts up a nice and caring act in front of everyone - even me. Not that I’m fooled by it. It sickens me, actually.”

It definitely felt like Jaemin was being put out for the wolves, but Jeno wasn’t entirely convinced it was malicious.

Perhaps he just needed someone to blame, even if what occurred was just an accident or misunderstanding.

Irrational. 

“I think that the Regent is trying to prepare you for the real world,” Jeno offered. “As a King-”

“I’ll have to stand up for myself and make my point clear,” Jaemin interrupted, rolling his eyes like he has heard that a million times already. “Right. I guess I’m just being childish then,” he said, his voice growing quieter. “Whatever. I’m done for the day. Leave me alone.”

“But it’s only-”

“I don’t care! Just leave me alone!” Jaemin exclaimed, the desperation in his voice and eyes like that of a wounded animal. “Cancel all my lessons, tell everyone I’m having a hissy-fit and just leave me alone!” 

His dishevelled state of undress, messy hair and desolate, anguish in his eyes brought a sickening churn to Jeno’s stomach. Something unpleasant coiled in the pit of his stomach as a lump formed in his throat the harder he looked at Jaemin, seeing more and more of him.

“Please just go,” Jaemin begged.

Jeno sucked in a breath and bowed, holding his position as he uttered a rehearsed “as you wish, your Highness.”

Chapter Text

Jeno didn’t think that Jaemin was capable of completely shutting himself off to the outside world. But somehow he managed to do just that.

Jeno had a relatively rough night of his own, jolted awake in a cold sweat by an unsavoury dream - an unfortunately recurring thing, no matter how much his scenery and schedule has changed since starting this job. And so, the last thing he wanted to deal with for the day ahead was a disgruntled, temperamental Prince. Hence, he asked around the staff to see what he was up for, preparing for anything. 

“It’ll pass,” Yeojin assured Jeno, giving his hand a reassuring pat. They were in the staff common area, three gruelling days since the royal court meeting had concluded. “It’s not the first time he’s been like that. And it’s not yer fault - just in case ya think so. That’s just the Prince for ya.”

“How often does this happen though?”

The woman clicked her tongue, the question definitely a tricky one to properly answer. “Well, it really depends,” she answered. “I've been here before the Prince was even born, so I've seen everything, really. He has his moods - much worse these last few years - but it's not always bad. Growing pains, y'know?”

Jeno hummed.

“But if ya ask me, he tends to get stroppy whenever he has to carry out his duties,” the woman explained, leaning in to whisper as if it were a secret. “Quite childish really. If you ask me, I think the grief of losing his parents stunted his development. Not what anyone would want from a King, don't ya think?”

“But-” Jeno stopped himself, not entirely sure what he could say to that. Yet still, a part of him wanted to argue that anyone would lash out after being disrespected like that on what Jeno assumed to be a frequent basis. But in the end, he simply sucked his teeth and clenched his fist, looking back at Yeojin. There was no point in defending the Prince. “Does he talk to anyone?” 

“The Prince?”

Jeno nodded. “Like… to just talk? I know I've only been here for roughly two weeks, but the Prince… well, he really doesn't do much outside of his schedule.”

Yeojin hummed in agreement. “He never really clicked with anyone,” she explained. “And after the Queen passed, the boy became a shut-in. The closest he has is Jaehyun and Mark but ah… these days they rarely talk too. There was the son of that Earl too! But I don't think they even interacted the last time they met at the palace. They seemed rather close; I believe the Queen would take the Prince with her whenever she visited the Earl - and that was rather often. They were friends, the whole lot of them.” Once she was done, Yeojin shook her head. “A shame; ya should've seen the Prince when he was younger. He was a star back then. But I guess loss and grief can dull even the sun.”

Jeno tapped his nails on the table, the conversation not making him feel better in the slightest. Here he was, naively thinking that he could find some way to pull Jaemin out of his melancholy and rut, only to find out that that was simply how he was. 

“I hope he's not giving ya too much trouble though,” the woman continued, the chair groaning beneath her as she shifted to lean her arms on the table. “As I said: he'll get over it soon enough. Ya just have to ignore it and get through it. It's like yer dealing with a child. Simple, right?”

“Right.”

Jaemin went on with his days as required of him and other than the fact he didn't speak, he didn't really cause Jeno any issues. He woke up, got dressed, ate if he felt like it, and proceeded with his lessons. Politics, linguistics, history, archery, art, music, mathematics, so on and so forth.

It was the fact that he didn't say anything that irritated Jeno. 

It made him uncomfortable. 

The emotionless look in Jaemin’s eyes, his skin dull, demeanour meek. It all felt wrong. Something had dug itself into Jeno's gut, twisting and turning whenever he was met with Jaemin’s ghostly appearance, finding a hint of familiarity within it. 

He never saw the Prince smile properly, but now he was even forgetting what he looked like with a sliver of life in his appearance. He tried to recreate it, scribbling in his journal at night, digging in his memories to find that single moment where he was met with a glimpse of something more - brief and hidden, but tangible. 

No matter how hard he tried, nothing he put to paper came out right.

Yeojin left for the night, but Jeno remained as he was for a while longer, alone with his thoughts. They were confusing. Convoluted. Nothing of use, yet somehow still enough to occupy his mind without a moment of rest.

Most of the thoughts circled back to Jaemin in one way or another; everything that happened would remind Jeno of the Prince, his mood sour and unprecedented. Well, maybe it was precedented. But it still took Jeno by surprise, especially with his outburst the day that it all started. 

The more he thought about it, the more wounded Jaemin looked at that moment. He was lashing out in anger, yes, but in pain too. Pain at being ignored. Pain at being crushed. Pain that came from more than just one bad meeting.

Jeno squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

“You're not about to feel bad for him,” he muttered to himself. “Get a grip.”

Startling him was an amused snort, followed by a trail of footsteps leading towards him. When Jeno snapped his eyes open, he was met with the sight of Jaehyun. That was uncommon. Very uncommon, actually.

“Jaehyun…”

“That's me,” the guard uttered, pulling out a seat for himself. “I don't believe we've properly talked before, have we?”

“Not really.”

The guard made a soft noise at the back of his throat in acknowledgment.

“How come you're not on guard?”

“The Prince ordered me to leave,” Jaehyun explained. “I've been switched out on his orders. I suppose it's one of those days.”

“As in…?”

Jaehyun never offered him an answer, instead leaning back in his seat, arms folded over his chest, head tilted back. “I feel bad for him,” he admitted. “I'm probably the only one that does, though. You should just… just stick to your job, alright? If you start pitying him, he's going to hate you. Not that I think you'd care, but it might make your time here miserable. However long you may be here,” he said, the closing comment coming across as mildly threatening.

“I don't pity him,” Jeno assured.

“Good.”

An odd man. Jaehyun came, sat in silence, and left like nothing ever happened.

And still, Jeno knew nothing about him.

♤♡◇♧

Slowly enough, with the passage of another day, Jaemin was more or less back to how Jeno expected him to be. He went back to quoting passages from books, making snarky and occasionally humorous quips, and he didn't walk around like he was being followed by a rain cloud. All was good again.

Perhaps some of that had to do with the fact he was due to go to the stables. 

“Luna was sick,” Jaemin explained. “And I don't like riding any of the other horses; they're all pompous things, but my Luna is a true princess.” 

He was thrumming with anticipation, clad in his riding gear, walking with a perk in his step as they neared the stables. When they did make it, they were greeted by Chenle, offering a polite and warm smile to the two.

“Luna’s been waiting for you, your Highness,” Chenle stated, words causing Jaemin to grow even more eager. “She's in perfect condition. She's been showing off as well,” he added, amused. “I think she's making it known she wants to go on a ride.”

“In that case I hate to make her wait,” the Prince said, taking large strides towards one of the stalls. 

He stood by it, waiting for the horse to notice his presence. When she did, a white snout stuck out from the opening in the stall door. An excitable whinny followed, earning a warm chuckle from Jaemin, his hand carefully reaching up to stroke the horse's muzzle. 

“Hey there, girl, missed me?”

As if understanding, Luna moved her head in what Jeno could only call a clear nod. 

“Yeah, me too,” Jaemin assured, gently stroking down the bridge of her nose. “I'm sorry I didn't visit, but it was for your own good, alright?”

Confused, Jeno looked to Chenle. The two staff stood off to the side, giving Jaemin all the space he needed to meet his animal companion.

“She got too excited,” Chenle explained. “Nearly hurt herself in the process. We decided it would be best if she focused on recovery without any distractions.”

“Ah.”

“She's lively for a horse,” Chenle added, folding his arms over his chest. “Especially around people she likes - which is just Jaemin.”

“Not you?”

“She appreciates that I feed and groom her,” the stable boy replied. “But other than that, she's very selective.”

Jeno hummed in acknowledgment, turning his attention back to the Prince and Luna, an amused smile creeping its way onto his face at the sight. Jaemin spoke with Luna, putting on a cutesy voice, cheeks puffed like he was talking to a baby to draw a bubbly giggle out of it. When Luna responded with a low whinny, the shake of a head, or what Jeno could only explain as a laugh, Jaemin would continue.

And as Jeno watched on, a single thought flashed in his mind: is this what he's like? 

Because Jaemin was very much tuned out from the rest of the world right now, focusing on nothing but the steed in front of him, both engaging in a conversation only they understood. Light and mirth filled Jaemin’s eyes and a genuine smile etched itself on his face. 

It suited him. 

“Would you mind fetching her riding gear?” Jaemin asked, looking over to Chenle. Now that the attention was off her, Luna huffed, pushing her face up closer to Jaemin, attempting to chew on his hair to no avail as Jaemin comically leant back nearly ninety degrees. “She's getting impatient.”

“Of course.”

Chenle moved promptly and Jeno felt awkward standing alone in the centre of the stable. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking around in mild interest. The stables were well maintained, clean and absent of the strong musky scent of grime and manure that Jeno associated with the stables he frequented back in Onyan. 

“Are you having fun standing around?” Jaemin asked, a faint laughter passing his lips as Luna made an attempt on his hair again. 

“It is a nice stable,” Jeno mused, giving it a quick once over.

At that, Jaemin snorted. “Are you some sort of stable connoisseur? Come here.”

Jeno raised an eyebrow.

Jaemin exhaled with a shake of the head. “Come meet her. She won't bite,” he said just as Luna whinnied and curled her lips trying to get to Jaemin’s shirt.

“I'm sure she wants to though.”

“It's a sign of love, ” the Prince explained, stroking the horse and giving her the attention she so desperately wanted. “Now come on!”

Carefully, Jeno approached the odd duo. He wasn't a stranger to horses and knew how to act around them, but he also never met one quite as peculiar and human like Luna, so he also wasn't entirely sure if he needed to take extra care or not.

When he made his way over to Jaemin’s side, Luna pulled back and looked at Jeno like she was sizing him down and getting a good read on him. Jeno was convinced that she was a human trapped in a horse's body - that was the only explanation for her existence. Definitely a strange animal, but rather endearing in its weirdness. 

“Hi there,” Jeno offered, not making any drastic moves in front of the horse, her large eyes staring right through his soul. “You’re Luna, aren’t you? Very pretty name.”

As if in agreement, the horse let out a soft, proud whinny. 

Again: human soul trapped in the body of a horse.

After a few more seconds of consideration, Luna came to the conclusion that Jeno was decent. She leaned her long face forward, giving Jeno permission to touch her. Not wanting to come across as rude, Jeno stroked down the bridge of her nose, lips curved up in amusement at the animal’s unusual behaviour.

“Looks like she likes you,” Jaemin mused. “She’s very picky, you know? Consider yourself lucky. Even Chenle wasn’t this fast in getting her approval.”

Unfortunately, Luna must have been a rather terrible judge of character. Because why would she see him in a favourable light if Jeno was here for no other reason than to harm her master? Maybe she was blind. Or a bit of a sadist.

“Do you know how to ride?” Jaemin asked, head tilted to the side and arms folded over his chest. 

Jeno looked over to him, a split second flicker of confusion in his eyes until his brain caught on with what he heard. “Yes. Of course,” he replied. 

The Prince hummed. “Do you fancy a ride?”

“Right now?”

“As opposed to when? In the middle of the night?” Jaemin asked, oblivious to how his words sounded to Jeno right now. “Of course I mean now. Unless you prefer to do your own thing; I’m sure being a retainer is taxing work, isn’t it? All that… running around and pretending to be busy.”

“I consider myself more of a nanny,” Jeno retorted, feeling a flash of warmth in his chest when Jaemin smiled, shaking his head as he looked down to hide his expression. “Perhaps it would be best to join you; for everyone’s safety.”

“Not mine?”

“I’ve seen you at archery,” Jeno pointed out. 

“I can ride a horse just fine, thank you very much.”

“I’ll have to see that for myself.”

Jaemin rolled his eyes. Before he could say anything else, however, Chenle returned with the appropriate gear, his eyes wide as he noticed a sizable shift in the atmosphere. He came to a halt, gaze flickering between the two men. 

“Is everything alright?” He asked, feeling like the odd one out.

“Jeno will be joining me today,” Jaemin explained. “Could you help him pick out a horse and gear up? I can handle myself from here.”

“Of course, your Highness,” Chenle said. He promptly handed the gear over to Jaemin and took Jeno on a quick tour of the stables, umm-ing and ahh-ing as he tried to pick out a suitable horse for him. There were quite a few to choose from and Chenle was very clearly considering every option thoroughly. 

In the end, he took Jeno to stand by a box further down. The horse inside was a fully black steed, its mane clipped short. If Luna was an elegant albeit wild horse, then the one in front of Jeno was stern and proper. When Chenle and Jeno approached, it didn’t react with the same energy as Luna had done; instead, it was nothing more than a mere look at the two men, lingering for a brief second before resuming whatever it was doing before.

“Iris should be a decent pick for you,” Chenle said, referring to the horse relaxing in the stall. “She’s usually taken out by the guards when they do their rounds of the premises. She’s very mild and obedient - good with any rider. I’ll go get her gear.”

Chenle hurried off again, leaving Jeno with Iris. Now that the stable boy was gone, she seemed more intrigued by the unfamiliar face, turning around to get a better look at Jeno. She seemed placid, her eyes nowhere near as expressive as Luna’s, yet the more Jeno looked, the more he seemed to see her. Calm demeanour yet with an odd sense of longing woven into her gaze. Longing for what? Jeno wasn’t sure, but he still saw it. 

It brought an uneasy churn to his stomach, finding the ache behind her dulled eyes haunting.

Subdued. Beaten into obedience.

“We have some extra clothes in the back if you’d prefer to change into something else-” Chenle paused once he returned, coming to a scene of Jeno and Iris looking at each other. “Are you having a moment?”

“No, I just- Does she look sad to you?”

Chenle hummed, glancing over at the horse. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But she has been like that since I started working here. Maybe you can cheer her up though.”

“I sure can try.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Not wanting to make Jaemin wait much longer, Chenle got Iris ready. Once all gear was in place, he led the horse out and had Jeno get on, running him through how to handle her properly. He then proceeded to take the pair out into the grounds where Jaemin was already waiting.

“You sure took your time,” the Prince said, taking in the sight of Jeno on his horse once he pulled up next to him. “So you do know how to ride a horse.”

“Of course I do. I wasn’t lying.”

The Prince hummed and gave Luna’s side a light kick, prompting her to get moving. “Colour me surprised,” he mused to himself, waiting for Jeno to join him.

Jeno glanced back down at Chenle, not entirely sure what he was looking for. 

“You can go too,” the stable boy assured. “You don’t need me out there, do you? She’s really not that hard to control.”

With that, Jeno decided to get a move on, urging Iris to start catching up to Jaemin and Luna. He kept a small distance between them, trailing behind the Prince like what was expected of him - never on the same level as him. 

They traversed through the large open field near the stables, heading towards a wooded area. 

Jeno assumed that they would continue at a relatively leisurely pace, which is why he didn’t expect Jaemin to suddenly kick off the second he was within the confines of dense shrubbery, shaded from the blazing sun. One second he was right there, and the next, he was leaving nothing but dust in his wake. 

Not sure what the hell was happening, Jeno panicked. It’s not like Jaemin could actually run away, but the way he up and left didn’t fill Jeno with ease. So he did what he thought was right, and he pursued the Prince. 

Chenle mentioned briefly that Iris was used mainly for routine ground check ups and an occasional parade, never going above a trot - maybe a canter - since she had no reason to go faster. Which is, when Jeno prompted her into a full on gallop, he didn’t expect her to be so fast. At first, she seemed surprised, wondering if perhaps her rider had made a mistake. But when he prompted her again, she didn’t hesitate.

It was as if a breath of life had filled her lungs, urging her to move and make the most of it. 

She picked up even more speed when she realised that Jeno hadn’t actually made a mistake, reeling her back in, and he did in fact want her to run, holding on tight to her reins, his thighs clenched and body keeping appropriate posture to not go flying off from the sheer force she propelled them forwards. 

The path was beaten in, keeping the trail clear.

But when Jaemin noticed that Jeno was getting nearer, looking over his shoulder with a smirk, he directed Luna deeper into the woods, going off-road. 

Jeno wasn’t familiar with the territory, and he didn’t know just how well he could handle Iris, but he had enough faith to try. Which is why he took the same turn as Jaemin, vanishing off into a thicket of bushes and a maze of trees, large rocks and logs on the uneven ground. It was an obstacle course - one which Iris seemed to thrive in, weaving in and out between tree trunks, jumping over any obstructions in her way, all whilst picking up on the distance between them and Jaemin.

The longer they went, the less Jeno felt like Jaemin was leading him into danger, and more like he was showing him a secret. He wasn’t running away, and he wasn’t there to trap Jeno; instead, he gave Jeno a look into something nobody else would ever see - the way his eyes lit up with excitement and joy, how competitive he could get, and how he preferred to go down the uncharted path, aware of the risk but seeking the thrill.

“Not bad,” Jeno heard from up ahead, the words carried by the wind. “But you’ll need to do better than that!”

And just like that, Luna’s speed kicked up a notch, turning into a blur of white light up ahead.

Overrun with an untypical sense of competitiveness, Jeno grinned. “We can’t lose like that,” he said. “Let’s get them,” he added, giving Iris another dose of motivation to chase the pair up ahead. 

They manoeuvred through the woods right out into the open field again, greeted with a large expanse of nothing but grass and clear blue skies. Up ahead was Jaemin and Luna, the pair becoming a target for Jeno and Iris. 

One which they would surely reach. 

With nothing standing in her way, Iris was quick to close the gap between them, galloping like she was the wind itself, free and unrestrained. And they finally caught up, Jeno smirking right back at Jaemin when their gazes met. 

“No offence, your Highness,” Jeno said with a playful tint to it. “But you’ll have to do better than that.” He squeezed his legs harder, feeling Iris building up even more momentum. Enough to now have Jaemin and Luna behind them.

“Oh no you don’t!” Jaemin called out, now becoming the hunter in hot pursuit of Jeno. 

They exchanged positions one by one. Sometimes Jaemin would chase, and sometimes it would be Jeno to go after him. But in the end, they neared the stables together, deciding to call it a tie. For now, at least. 

“Well,” Jaemin said as Iris and Luna settled into a steady trot. “It seems you really do know how to ride,” he mused, thoroughly pleased by that revelation. 

“Would I lie to you, your Highness?” Jeno asked, causing Jaemin to snort. 

“Calling me that again? As far as I’m aware, it’s only us two around,” Jaemin pointed out. “Unless you consider the horses.”

“Force of habit,” Jeno replied. “Besides, Chenle is here,” he added, glancing over to the stable boy up ahead, his eyes wide and mouth parted in shock. 

“He’ll swallow a fly if he keeps looking like that.”

When the two arrived, Chenle still seemed absolutely shocked. His mouth agape, he could only stare at Jeno and Iris, not believing his eyes. “Did- was that-” Unable to finish his trail of thought, Chenle ran his hands through his hair, arms up in bewilderment. “Iris you- You had that in you?” He asked the horse to which Iris happily whinnied, brimming with life that she lacked not that long ago. “You…”

“It seems she wanted to stretch her legs,” Jeno commented, stroking the side of her neck. “I guess the guards don’t give her a chance?”

“No, not that I’m aware,” Chenle replied. “And when we let her out to roam she just walks around so… Well would you look at that,” the stable boy said, eyes glimmering with excitement. “You’ve got a few tricks up your sleeve, don’t you, girl?”

“She was a formidable opponent,” Jaemin said, dismounting Luna. “Maybe with some proper training, she’ll stand a chance against my girl.”

“I think Iris did pretty well,” Jeno argued as he also got off. “Considering she wasn’t trained for this.”

Jaemin hummed. “Then feel free to take her out for a run when you’re free. The guards can choose a different horse for the time being, can’t they?” He asked, turning to Chenle.

“Of course.”

Satisfied, Jaemin led Luna to her box where he proceeded to take care of her gear as well as groom her mane, ending it all off with feeding her a treat. Jeno helped Chenle out in the meantime - not that he probably needed it, but because he thought it would be appropriate to leave the Prince alone for the time being since he was actually in such a good mood. 

“Well that was unexpected,” Chenle mused, undoing the straps keeping the riding gear in place.

“Maybe that’s why she looked so sad.”

Confused, Chenle looked up at Jeno, brow furrowed. For a second, he tried to make sense of what Jeno said, shaking his head once it clicked. “Not that,” he dismissed. “Though yes, that would explain her mood. But I meant that, ” Chenle said, vague and unhelpful.

“That?”

“Yes: that,” Chenle repeated. “The whole going on a gallop with the Prince,” he explained, finally giving Jeno something to go off with. 

“I admit, that was unplanned, but he initiated it.”

“Yeah: weird.”

Jeno huffed, stroking Iris’ neck as Chenle took off her saddle. “Has his previous retainer never joined him out on a ride?”

“He has,” Chenle replied. “But it never turned into a race like that. Jihoon mostly lost track of the Prince and waited around. Besides, Jihoon joined him because it was basically what he had to do, as ordered by the Regent; but you were invited.”

“I would have gone with him anyway,” Jeno pointed out.

Chenle wasn’t convinced. 

“What?”

The stable boy shrugged. “The Regent’s orders were: Jihoon must accompany the Prince whenever he goes horse riding outside the stable premises,” he explained. “Notice the fact that isn’t your name? I was expecting the Prince to use that as a loophole. But no, he asks you to join him,” he continued, a curious look to him. “I suppose he must somewhat like you if that’s the case. Congrats; you’re probably the first.”

Bemused, Jeno shook his head. “He doesn’t like me,” he argued. 

“Well he tolerates you, which is more than could be said about anyone else,” Chenle pointed out. “And I think you don’t mind him either.”

At that, Jeno snorted. “Right.”

“I mean it,” the stable boy continued. 

“And what makes you think that?”

Chenle shrugged. “Call it a hunch? But I mean, I haven’t been here that long,” he stated, his hold hesitating on the next layer of gear. “But I’ve seen how Jihoon was with the Prince. He treated him like… well, like a job. There wasn’t hostility or anything like that, but there was some indifference? You at least seem to care. I think that’s why he’s not totally opposed to you.”

He felt human. 

“Oh,” Jeno uttered, hit by a strong pang of what he could only describe as guilt. Guilt and pity.

But he wasn’t about to pity his target. 

“If you ask me, I think it’s nice,” Chenle continued. “Personally I don’t think the Prince is as bad as everyone makes him out to be - and even if he is a bit of an airhead, so what? I’m sure we had worse Kings.”

“Where are you going with this?”

Chenle clicked his tongue. “What I’m trying to say is, a mere stable boy like me might not mean much in the grand scheme of things - I mean I only get to see the Prince here and there so my opinion on him is probably of no significance to him. But you? You’re around him basically all the time,” he explained. “So it’s probably nice to have at least one person around who doesn’t think you’re some… I don’t know, waste of air?”

Jeno’s mouth opened but no words came out, not sure what he could even say in response. 

“I don’t like him,” or “who even says that about him?” 

Jeno was indifferent. He didn’t actively care about Jaemin, but he also didn’t think he was a complete failure. Not that that even mattered, because it didn’t matter. What mattered was that Jeno had a job, and that job was to kill Jaemin at the right time. Until then, he just had to make sure the Prince didn’t get suspicious of anything and also find out if he was in talks with anyone around.

That’s all that mattered. 

His opinion of the Prince was absolutely insignificant. 

It’s just that… If Jeno was to spend the next few months here, no matter how much of an act he put up, Jaemin made it very difficult to fully commit to the part. Something out him grinded Jeno’s gears just right, leaving faint cracks in the facade. He could talk back. He could be snarky if he wanted to. And Jaemin seemed to like it. He seemed to seek out the reactions and behaviours that differentiated Jeno from the other staff - the things that made him human and not just a servant meant to do everything he asked for. 

And perhaps that shifted the balance of things just enough for Jaemin to treat jeno differently. For Jeno to treat him differently too.

But it didn’t mean anything. And it certainly didn’t matter.

“Either way,” Chenle continued, putting an end to the silence on Jeno’s end. “I think the Prince has a pretty smile, even if it is a rare sight.”

“Yeah,” Jeno replied, realising too late that he actually responded. “I guess so.”

♤♡◇♧

“That is umm… a very artistic piece,” Jeno commented, struggling to find anything nice to say about Jaemin’s sketch. 

His art lesson finished twenty minutes ago, but since he had nothing better to do before dinner, Jaemin decided to stick around to finish off his masterpiece. He definitely poured his heart and soul into it, even if Jeno couldn’t by any means decipher what the Prince had decided to put to paper. 

“It’s umm…” Jeno clicked his tongue, tilting his head to the side and squinting his eyes. “Abstract.”

Jaemin rolled his eyes, posture deflating noticeably. 

“Is it not?” Jeno asked. “Of course it’s not. I do apologise. I guess I have a bad eye for art.”

“You’re a terrible liar. Do you know that?” Jaemin replied, picking up his pencil to try and refine some of the line work. “I never really had any artistic talent. This is meant to be our race from before,” he explained.

Jeno looked back on the piece again. Now, with the knowledge on what it was meant to be, he could try to distinguish the figures. And yes, he could actually make out what seemed to be a horse and then one behind it. The two protrusions would by that logic be him and Jaemin.

“Right, I see it now,” 

Jaemin sighed. “I know it’s bad.”

“There’s always room for improvement, yes,” Jeno admitted. “But I see it now. Horses are difficult to draw.”

“Now you’re just trying too hard,” the Prince mused, putting his pencil down with an air of disappointment. He sighed, pushing the drawing away from himself, not wanting to look at it any longer. “I'm decent at colouring. As you can see, my artistic abilities are on par with a five year old.”

“Can you colour within the lines?”

“Of course.”

“Then I'd say you're at least on par with an eight year old.”

Jaemin turned to look up at Jeno again, his lips slanted to the side with a peculiar grin - somewhere in between offended and bewildered. Not bad, though. Entertained. He let his expression linger before shrugging, shaking his head as he pushed himself out of his seat.

“I'll take that,” he mused. “You really do flatter me, you know?”

“And I mean everything I say, your Highness,” Jeno added, feeling the air around them shift. It was pleasant, easy like a temperate summer night. Jeno didn't think about what he said, even if he probably should have. 

“Your sincerity is touching, albeit troublesome at times,” Jaemin admitted, straightening his jacket. He glanced over his shoulder, looking at the window and the light sky outside. “I think it's making me sick.” To make his point, Jaemin placed a hand over his chest and feigned a gag.

“Oh no, are you alright?” Jeno asked, playing along as Jaemin drew out a dramatic heave only to promptly pull himself together.

“Quite alright,” Jaemin replied. “A bit peckish. Go convince the cooks to whip me up a snack. I'm not picky.”

Jeno chuckled. “I believe the cooks would argue otherwise.”

“Then let them argue,” Jaemin said with a dismissive wave of the hand. “Or get me some cake. I think cake would be nice right about now.”

“Dinner won't be that long.”

“Killjoy,” the Prince muttered. “Fine! Tea and a singular biscuit. How about that?”

“I can arrange that.”

“Much appreciated, nanny.”

It couldn't be helped when Jeno's lips pulled into a thin smile, his eyes like crescent moons. It really was easy, even if it shouldn't have been that way. 

“Tea to drown my woes and sorrows,” Jaemin said, taking large strides towards the doors. “Oh woe is me and my artistic ability.” 

“You're quite good with your words, your Highness.”

“And you know how to rile me up, don't you? Your Highness,” Jaemin repeated, mocking. “Are your feet permanently fixed to the floor?” He asked, pausing his steps for a split second to look at Jeno.

The retainer was still by the desk, his fingertips pressed against the flat surface, just about touching the discarded parchment.

“What about this?”

Jaemin peered over. “You can toss it out,” he said, punctuating his words with a wide side step, going forward without a care.

Instead of throwing the drawing away, Jeno picked it up as Jaemin was already at the door, pushing it open for himself and letting it fall shut before Jeno could even get to it. He glanced down at the messy lines which were meant to depict himself and Jaemin.

And, unbeknownst to him, he smiled.

Jaemin opened the door again, this time to peek his head inside. “Are you coming or not?”

“Yes,” Jeno replied, hastily putting the piece of paper in one of his pockets. “I do apologise.”

The Prince sighed, waiting just long enough for Jeno that the door didn’t actually fall shut in his face. 

“Less apologising, more doing. I’m not getting any younger, you know?”

“That’s probably a good thing,” Jeno mused.

“I’ll have you know that younger me was adorable.”

“If you say so, your Highness.”

♤♡◇♧

After leaving Jaemin in his room for the night, Jeno made his way down to the staff quarters, ready to put the day behind him. He had nothing new to report since there just was so little to say when it came to the Prince. On one hand, it would probably make Johnny and the commissioner's lives that much easier to know the Prince had nothing going on. 

And Jeno still got to enjoy the routine he so desperately craved in his life. 

He didn't have any larger responsibilities - at least none to the same extent as Junmyeon who was an actual retainer and trusted advisor to the Regent as opposed to being a glorified babysitter. Hence, Jeno ended his day relatively hassle free. 

Other than ensuring staff were up to date with the Prince’s current requests, getting a few things like the laundry, wardrobe, and meals in order, as well as potentially rescheduling lessons, Jeno had it easy. This was something he could handle. It was something he actually liked: order and routine. 

Just as he was about to turn the corner of the softly lit corridor, the wind was knocked out of his lungs. He stumbled backwards, hands coming to rest on the solid mass that had just run into him at mach speed. 

As they both regained their footing, Jeno let go, not wanting his touch to linger for too long. In front of him was one of the maids, her warm brown hair plaited, a few strands beginning to poke out after a long day at work. 

“Are you alright?” Jeno asked, noticing the woman seemed disorientated, a tremble to her entire frame. 

Panicked, her eyes shot up to Jeno. It took her a second to process his presence, and once it clicked in her head as to who he was, she apologised profusely, bowing repeatedly until Jeno reached for her upper arms again to hold her still. 

Some of the staff seemed to think he was scary. When Jeno found out about that, he was baffled only to have Giselle briefly explain that it was his “resting face” that intimidated passive onlookers. That and the fact he was a retainer, arguably higher up in the hierarchy than all the other palace staff. Even if he was in charge of dealing with the Prince of all people.

“It's fine,” he assured.

She sucked in her bottom lip, still nervous but no longer saying sorry on loop. Once again, Jeno let her go, quirking a curious eyebrow at her. 

“Did something happen?”

The maid swallowed. 

Jeno felt mad that he couldn't remember her name, but most of the maids and servants kept to their own groups whereas Jeno had come to infiltrate an odd mix of cooks, guards, and a stable boy. Arguably, he should get closer to the others too, especially if their gossip networks were to be considered.

“You can tell me,” Jeno continued, doing his best to not look intimidating. He offered the young woman a comforting smile, relieved as he saw some of the tension in her shoulders dissipating.

“I- I was doing the washing,” she stated, her voice wavering. “The Prince’s laundry, to be specific.”

Even more intrigued, Jeno urged the maids to continue with a faint hum. Did she find something? Perhaps something incriminating. Or if it was the laundry… Well, Jaemin was a young man after all. 

“And I- there was something in his pocket, and I didn't realise and I ended up- it was very delicate,” she explained, struggling to put her thoughts straight. Instead, she dug into the pocket of her dress, reluctantly pulling out a small piece of fabric. As she unfurled her hand, she revealed a familiar handkerchief. “It got torn.”

Though Jeno wouldn't have really considered it a tear in the first place. It occurred in one of the corners, not on the very edge but closer to the middle. It was the type of damage that came from heavy wear, the fabric getting much weaker in one spot until, after enough pressure, it gave up. The threads snapped and left a noticeable hole.

Not ideal for a handkerchief.

“And I- I didn't mean to damage it,” the maid continued, voice chipped with nerves. “I promise! I thought I could fix it but- but it's too precious and I'd only make it worse and- and I-”

“It's alright,” Jeno assured, placing his hand over the maid's to take the square silky fabric from her. “Accidents happen. And I'm sure the Prince won't even notice. Just leave it to me, okay?”

“I- Yes, of course. Thank you,” she said with a deep bow. 

“It's nothing. And you don't need to be so formal with me.”

The woman straightened out, eyes widening as she was met with a lax smile on Jeno’s part. “R-right. Yes. I- Thank you.”

Jeno nodded and stepped aside, letting the maid go before he resumed his walk to his room. He needed a minute to himself, especially since he actually did have something more to do before the end of the day. 

After how much Luna seemed to like him when he visited with Jaemin two days ago, Chenle asked Jeno to come over to the stables to keep the clingy horse some company as he got other work done around the place. As stupid as it might have been, Jeno actually agreed without hesitating. It beat being in his room, and for what it was worth, Luna and Chenle weren't bad company. Iris too.

Maybe he should have snuck out an apple for Iris. She did deserve it, after all.

Chenle didn't wait around to walk down with him, preferring to get a head start at the stable.

“Are you alive in there?” Jeno asked after a pleasant stroll down the grounds. He took the scenic route, not really in much of a rush. Chenle could handle himself, after all. 

The stable was dimly lit, only a few lamps left on, the orange flames inside swaying softly. Other than the sound of a few horses huffing and shaking their heads, there was very little in terms of any signs of life.

Which is why Jeno jumped when Chenle poked his head out, eyes wide and hair mussed. 

“You came.”

Jeno exhaled, easing his jolted heart rate. “Was I not supposed to?”

Chenle stepped aside, inviting Jeno inside. “I thought you wouldn't show up.”

“I said I would, so I did.”

“How reliable,” Chenle commented, meaning it. “What a man.”

Jeno raised an eyebrow at that. It was left otherwise unnoticed.

“I was honestly just going to tidy up a bit and make sure all the horses are doing fine,” the stable boy admitted. 

“I can help.”

“If you want to.”

Jeno ended up with a wooden broom in his hands, sweeping the floor, the sound of the bristles against brushing over the wooden panels filled the otherwise silent stable. Chenle must have really not expected Jeno to come given how unprepared he was to acknowledge him, but he also came across as pleased, occasionally glancing up at Jeno from the corners of his eyes. 

Jeno didn't mind the quiet. 

“I'm still fairly new here,” the stable boy admitted. “I got here like… a year ago now? There's some maids that joined after me, but still, I feel like the new meat around these parts.”

“You could have fooled me,” Jeno stated. “You seem close with the others.”

Chenle shrugged, fixating on one spot on the floor. “I guess. It doesn't feel all that impressive, really. I think I'm the youngest around as well, so it's like they baby me at times.”

“Cute.”

“It's not cute,” Chenle argued, cheeks puffed out, the tips of his ears tinted a vibrant red. “But I- You seem… Well, different? Approachable?”

Jeno hummed, ignoring the warmth spreading within his core. 

“I thought we could be friends?” Chenle suggested. “If that's not beneath you.”

Hearing that, Jeno scoffed. He put all pause to his sweeping, resting his chin on the long, thin broom. “Why would it be beneath me?”

“I mean… you have to be someone to be a retainer,” Chenle explained. “A commoner like myself couldn't ever be in your place. You're a Lee like Jihoon, right?”

“Ji- Right,” Jeno said. “Cousins.”

Chenle made a hum of acknowledgement. “He didn't really talk much, but you could tell he was like… you know? He didn't stick around the common area like you do, and he only ever talked to Junmyeon and the butlers. The hierarchy, or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” Jeno mused. He allowed the silence to spread for a moment or two before taking in a sharp inhale, going back to sweeping. “I'm not big on all of that,” he admitted. “And I think you're rather fun. I won't mind being friends.”

Instantaneously brimming with elation, Chenle exclaimed “really?” It startled some of the horses, causing him to apologise. He tried again, this time quieter. “Really?” His expression was open and genuine, and it really took Jeno all his might not to call him cute. But he really was cute.

“Really,” Jeno assured.

Taking that as a win, Chenle pumped his fist and got back to sweeping with a newly found vigour.

It was amusing as it was endearing, leaving Jeno to chuckle to himself at the younger boy's antics. He wasn't sure how old Chenle was, but he was definitely younger than Jeno - something somewhat horrifying as he thought about it more. 

Jeno himself was just about older than the Prince, though he hadn't been a child for a long time. He didn't have the luxury for that, forced to grow up far too young. 

But there Chenle was, bright and innocent, cleaning the stables and treating the horses residing there with great care, seeing them as their own quirky individuals to be nurtured. Maybe he wasn't in charge, doing the dirty work of the actual man in charge, but he didn't complain at all, enjoying his time there.

Still a kid. 

“How old are you anyway?” Jeno asked, the curiosity killing him.

“Nineteen,” Chenle replied. 

Jeno hummed. Maybe not as young as he expected, but young nevertheless.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-one.” Did his brief say twenty-two? Odd thing to change given he kept his name. Oh well; Chenle wouldn't know anyway.

The stable boy nodded, lips pursed out in consideration. “I honestly thought you'd be older. Jihoon was in his late twenties. Though maybe that's why the Prince seems closer with you.”

“We're not-”

“You speak casually to him,” Chenle interrupted, in no way wanting to hear any of Jeno’s excuses. “As far as I'm concerned, that makes you close.”

Jeno rolled his eyes. “If you say so.”

They resumed their cleaning, making good work of the large space. Next was checking up on the horses which honestly wasn't anything more than taking a look in their boxes to see if they were settled in alright. 

As Chenle did a check up on Luna, he spoke up again. “How is he, anyway? The Prince, I mean,” he asked, a hint of shyness in his attempt to come across as nonchalant. “Like in general.”

“Like in general?” Jeno questioned. “Why the interest?”

Ears blazing red, Chenle shrugged and averted his gaze, not wanting Jeno to see him. “Just curious,” he replied. “I don't get to see him often so I- well, you know, I can be curious.”

Jeno hummed, all too knowing. It wasn't that hard to piece together what Chenle’s words and actions meant. After all, it wasn't the first time Jeno had seen him getting flustered at the mention of Jaemin.

“Righ, of course,” Jeno said. “Curiosity is normal.”

“Exactly. So? What's he like?”

Jeni laughed, unable to hold back from ruffling Chenle's hair. He really was too cute, okay? But that only made the younger turn red, piling on even more embarrassment to his already bashful state.  

“Well he's… the Prince,” Jeno replied, earning himself a huff from Chenle. 

“Is that the best you can say?”

“I'm thinking, alright?” 

More than necessary, really. Because what was there really to say about Jaemin that wasn't obvious already? 

“He's… peculiar,” Jeno admitted, struggling to find a better way of phrasing it. “One second he can be serious, and the next he's just… odd. Kind of ditzy, but at times it's-” Jeno paused, the continuation struggling to roll off his tongue.

“It's what?”

Jeno dismissed the thought. “Nothing. He's just very unpredictable.”

“Okay, but more than that? What does he like?”

“You really are interested, aren't you?”

“Curious. Just curious.”

“Alright, curious,” Jeno echoed, amused by the younger. He reckoned that the Prince was rather easy on the eyes, after all. “He likes making things difficult. But he also likes reading - he recites a lot of texts to himself in an array of languages. He's also fond of sweets to the point I'm pretty sure it's the majority of what he eats. And he clearly likes horse riding, as proven earlier.”

Yet given all that, Jeno still felt like he was scratching the surface. Even if that was all genuinely true and majority of what Jeno knew about the Prince, there were peculiarities to each detail. 

Such as the fact Jaemin loved fantasy and fairytales the most, the most treasured book within his collection being a children's book filled with fables and other such stories. He enjoyed a moral and a happy ending, yet the way he spoke and acted painted him out to be more of a realist - pessimist, even. 

The fox in the stories wasn't like other people. It was idealistic to think otherwise. 

As for his sweet tooth, it wasn't all that sweet. Instead, he settled on richer flavours - dark chocolates, nuts, and so on - and avoided the overly saccharine treats. Those were delegated to Jeno to clean up. 

Jaemin liked strolling outdoors, taking his time to walk down the paths, whereas he would rush whenever he was within the palace walls. He soaked up the sunshine, let the fresh air permeate in his lungs, filling up with life that would otherwise be sucked out of him the second he stepped foot indoors. 

He also liked doing things by himself - a rather key quality of his which definitely made Jeno’s life and job significantly easier. He wanted to lay his eyes out on all his admin tasks, even if he had very little impact on anything anyway. 

Jaemin, as a Prince, had less say than one would expect. He could look at a budget, make notes, say what he thought could do with changing, only to be dismissed. It might have been due to his ideas being subpar, but Jeno thought that some of them made enough sense to at least be considered. 

Political affairs were a strange ordeal as well, often learning crucial pieces of information with a sizable time delay. Such as when he learned about the death of a diplomat, one of the royal advisors saying that he “was killed a month ago in Onyan” as if it was something Jaemin should have known already.

But he didn't know. Because nobody told him. Jeno knew that for certain, because nobody ever came to inform him or Jaemin. No letters to loop him in either. Nothing.

Whenever he worked, he muttered to himself as if he was trying to solve a puzzle wherein none of the pieces would quite fit right. He would do so with the accounts, pulling out files from months and years prior to make sense of them, only to end up stumped time and time again. 

But he still liked to revisit them. Maybe one day, everything would fall into place and he could see the full picture laid out in front of him. One day, but not today. 

As Jeno looked at it now, he wasn't sure if he would consider Jaemin’s persistence stupid or admirable. 

Just what was he looking for anyway?

“So we have two things in common,” Chenle mused. “The sweets and horses. I can't read.”

Not all that unexpected.

“At all?”

“I can read and write my name,” Chenle stated. “And a few other things; enough to get me by. I’m no poet anyway.”

Getting through to check on the other horses didn’t take too long, though Jeno did take a minute longer with Iris, noticing a considerable shift in her demeanour. No longer a caged animal - not the same way as before. 

After that, Jeno stuck around Chenle for a bit but ultimately left before it got too late. As pleasant as talking to the younger man was, Jeno found himself getting too invested in their conversation. There was no use in getting closer than necessary, and Jeno seemed to forget that, slipping into a reality and life which simply wasn’t his. After all was said and done, he would never see Chenle or anyone from the palace staff ever again, so what point was there in being friends in more than name?

Even if Chenle was fun and a clearly good kid at heart - probably far too good for Jeno to taint with his mere presence - getting close was meaningless. If he knew the truth about him…

It didn’t matter.

Jeno excused himself for the night, departing with a polite smile and bow, feeling a faint sheen of grime on his skin from the heat of the day, sweat, and the rising dust from the stable. He would need to scrub himself clean before he went to sleep, even if he had to do so in cold water. 

Jeno took the same path back, enjoying the scenery now that the sun had set, a clean streak of navy painted across the sky. There was minimal light, most of it coming from random lit rooms within the palace, some which Jeno could by now recognise and name by window position alone. The Regent’s office was one of them - though he hadn’t actually stepped foot in there outside of his tour with Junmyeon. Even then, he had only been allowed to peek his head inside for a split second - barely enough time to register anything.

And the other light came from Jaemin’s bedroom.

Despite always retiring early for the night, the lights stayed on until late. What Jaemin did in there was unknown to him.

As Jeno looked up once he was within the vicinity of Jaemin’s quarters, he noticed that there was a figure standing out in the balcony. He froze, tilting his head in confusion before finally realising that the silhouette belonged to the Prince himself. For a few seconds, Jeno simply observed, wondering what Jaemin was up to.

His heart fell through to the ground the second he saw Jaemin attempting to climb the railings.

Was he insane? Was he actually trying to kill himself?

This wasn’t in his brief! And this was not a scenario he planned for in the slightest!

Jaemin was meant to die right before his coronation. And as far as Jeno was aware, that was still some time away.

So he did the only thing he could think of and yelled “your Highness” at the top of his lungs, hoping that his voice would carry far enough to reach the brat with his suicidal ideations and stop him from taking the leap six feet under. And it was loud, echoing across the empty fields. Loud enough to alert Jaemin of his presence, the man looked down at him. 

Even from so high above, Jeno could feel his gaze - piercing and unreadable. 

Jeno was about to call to him again, fighting the lump forming in his throat when there was a shift in light behind Jaemin. In the blink of an eye, Jaemin was whisked away from the ledge and carried back inside.

Without thinking, Jeno started running. He ran as fast as his legs could take him, and even faster than that, ignoring the burn in his thighs and the acidic taste on his tongue. He was frantic, missing steps and cutting corners not allowing himself to waste as much as a single second. Jaemin couldn’t die on him - not right now, and definitely not by the hands of someone else. 

He pushed past a few maids and butlers, coming through like a tornado, his destination Jaemin’s bedroom.

Jeno pushed the door wide open, chest heaving with exhaustion, lungs begging to catch a single breath of air. 

There he was.

Not being killed.

Though Jaehyun definitely didn’t look all too happy about Jaemin’s earlier stunt. 

“Yo- your Highness,” Jeno greeted, pulling himself upright, his breathing heavy. “Wha- what were you doing?”

Jaehyun held onto Jaemin’s arm with a firm grip, expression stern, nostrils flared in anger. The Prince didn’t reprimand him for it, only fighting back with a pathetic nudge, fully aware that he had no chance of escaping anyway. It had taken Jeno a few minutes to actually get back up here, and judging by the tension in the air, Jaemin and Jaehyun had engaged in a very pleasant conversation prior to his arrival.

“I was getting some fresh air,” Jaemin replied, sounding as insincere as could be. 

“That’s not what it looked like,” Jaehyun argued. “You were standing on the railing.”

“Wrong,” Jaemin replied, raising his finger to correct the guard. “I was about to get up on the railing. Only one foot was on there so technically-”

“I don’t care about the technicalities,” Jaehyun interrupted, not finding enjoyment in Jaemin’s sarcasm. “You were actively putting yourself in danger!”

Jaemin sighed, rolling his eyes before looking up at Jeno. “You couldn’t have been any louder, could you?”

“Don’t blame anyone else for your stupidity,” Jaehyun said through gritted teeth. Hearing that, Jaemin nodded, lips parted and slanted into a sneer. He waited a second before he forced himself out of Jaehyun’s grasp, pulling all his strength into it. Jaehyun let go.

“Right. I apologise for being so stupid,” the Prince said, tone mocking. “I suppose that’s just an unfortunate habit of mine. No, not a habit: my disposition. I wasn’t thinking rationally - or at all. Silly, old, stupid me.”

“Jae- Your Highness-”

“No, it’s alright,” Jaemin interrupted, casually strolling back to the couch where he had earlier discarded a jacket. He picked it up, shoving his arms through before walking over to Jeno, grabbing the man by the bend of his elbow. “I should have just called for my nanny if I wanted to go out, isn’t that so? Well then, now that he’s here, I’ll be off. I can’t be trusted by myself, right?”

Jaehyun inhaled sharply, wanting to speak only to be forbidden from doing so by Jaemin’s overpowering aura, cold and oppressive.

“Come,” Jaemin uttered, tugging on Jeno’s arm as he led him out of the bedroom, leaving Jaehyun alone in the Prince’s chambers. 

He didn’t say anything more until they were on the ground floor. 

“If I told you to leave right now, would you?” Jaemin asked, not looking at Jeno.

“Leave?”

“Retire for the night,” Jaemin reiterated. “My orders.”

They were his orders. Jeno had to obey whatever the Prince said. 

For the most part.

“Did you try to jump?” Jeno asked instead, avoiding the question. 

Not expecting that to be his response, Jaemin did finally spare Jeno as much as a glance. His eyes wide, confused, became shrouded with something unreadable once again, his brows furrowing. “Does that change anything?”

“It does,” Jeno replied honestly. 

If he was going to jump… Jeno couldn’t just leave him.

“Then I won’t say,” the Prince said. Stubborn and as uncooperative as ever.

“In that case, I won’t leave your side.”

“Go figure,” Jaemin muttered, resuming his walk outside. 

Jeno followed.

He followed him right out and trailed him until they reached the gardens from which Jeno had spotted Jaemin in the first place. Glancing up, Jeno saw what he assumed to be Jaehyun standing on the balcony, looking right back down at the pair. He considered them for a moment before stepping away and closing the doors behind him, shutting the curtains. 

Even less light now.

Jaemin sat himself down on one of the benches scattered around, picking one that had his back to the palace. He sprawled himself out, slouching as he extended his legs out. Not the posture fit for a King.

Not that he probably even cared in the first place.

Jeno stood back, observing the young royal as if trying to crack a puzzle. But just as with every prior attempt, Jeno failed at understanding the man. Nothing quite made sense about him and his behaviour. His outbursts were sudden, brought on by the smallest of things grating him for a second too long. His moods were unsteady, see-sawing from one emotion to another. He could be careless and airheaded and then serious the next second. 

Just like now.

Sitting there, morose, Jaemin remained a mystery.

“You can sit down too,” he said, words coming out as a mumble. He pulled himself up, shifting his position to resemble that of an actual sitting posture as opposed to simply spreading himself out across the surface. 

Jeno exhaled, taking a step towards Jaemin.

He sat down next to him.

And he didn’t say anything. Neither did Jaemin. 

Not for a solid ten minutes.

“I wasn’t going to jump,” Jaemin admitted. “I just… I was going to sneak out. I’ve done it before. If you look, there’s actually a viable route to take,” he added, causing Jeno to look behind and up at the palace walls, trying to figure out what exactly Jaemin was talking about. Jeno could see a few options, actually, but he wasn’t sure which one Jaemin would have taken. “I wasn’t about to kill myself. It’s too early for that.”

Jeno hummed, only realising after a few seconds just how sinister that sounded.

“Pardon?”

The Prince chuckled, glancing down at his joined hands resting in his lap. “I don’t plan on killing myself,” he reassured. “But I will die - that’s for certain.”

Dumbfounded, Jeno could only blink. “I- I suppose that’s true,” he said, ignoring the churn in his stomach. “We all will at some point.”

“I reckon my end will come much sooner,” Jaemin continued, speaking of his death with a frivolousness and sense of casualty that made Jeno feel uneasy. It wasn’t as if he held onto life with all his might, refusing to so much as accept death came to everyone in the end. It was something far more melancholy than that - a disregard to the concept of fearing the end. 

He wasn’t a man running from it, but one actively taking steps towards it.

“Not yet though,” he added. “I have a few things I’d like to get done before then. Though I fear that the time to do everything is growing increasingly limited.” At that, Jaemin spared Jeno a glance, his lips forming a smile - genuine, yet forlorn.

Jeno swallowed, finding it much harder to breathe.

When Jaemin looked away, he finally inhaled, gasping for it. 

“Second by second, minute by minute,” Jaemin uttered in the same cadence he would whenever he recited something he read. “I wait for the inevitable. How much longer must I wait, for the familiar end, my closest friend?”

“I-”

“It’s a poem,” Jaemin stated. “From Onyan. Written by an unknown civilian during the civil war. Second by second, minute by minute. And the end finally came.”

He couldn’t understand him. 

Jeno couldn’t understand him in the slightest.

He could only question, grasping at straws.

“Then why put yourself in danger?”

Jaemin shrugged. “There’s always a reason. And this time around, I wanted to be alone. Jaehyun would have insisted he joins me - his task is to ensure my safety during his shift. Who knows what could happen when I’m alone, you know? And no matter what I’d say, I wouldn’t be able to dissuade him. Hence the sneaking out.”

“But you’re not alone now, are you?”

Mildly amused, Jaemin smiled to himself. “I suppose I’m not. You're stubborn too, aren't you?” With that, he lightly punched Jeno’s arm. “My diligent nanny.”

“You could have told me to leave,” Jeno pointed out.

“I could have,” he agreed. “But you would have come anyway.”

His words carried far more weight than Jeno wanted them too. They felt far too heavy. Too knowing. But Jeno couldn't understand why. He couldn't comprehend why Jaemin was acting the way he was - why he treated Jeno like this.  

Because Jeno wasn't dumb; he knew that somewhere he had stepped over some sort of line drawn in the sand, one which distinguished him as more than Jaemin’s servant, traversing into uncharted territory.

Sitting side by side, Jaemin let himself relax, tilting his head back to look up at the sky - dark but not dark enough to make out the stars. 

An enigma of a man.

“You're loyal to a fault,” Jaemin mused, closing his eyes, expression calm. “That's why you're here.”

Jeno didn't say anything to that. Not that there was anything to say. 

He wasn't loyal to Jaemin, nor did he care. He didn't care. He had no reason to care. In the end it was nothing more than curiosity.

A curiosity to crack Jaemin, dissecting him like a sample to be studied.

That's all.

But it still didn’t make sense.

A mess. All of it. 

And all of it felt wrong.

Like an act.

♤♡◇♧

Jeno stared at the words written on a fresh piece of paper, the dark ink seeping into the woven parchment. The simple statement looked right back at him, their weight haunting.

He has no one.

That's what Johnny wanted him to find out; he wanted to know if there was anyone Jaemin could possibly work with - anyone that would have his back if push came to shove. And Jeno had found that no matter how hard he would dig, he wouldn’t find anything at all. 

There was no conspiracy. There was no alliance.

Because Jaemin was alone.

Even with the random letters he received, it didn’t seem like he actually cared about the correspondences. He treated them as junk, disposing of them just like that.

So even then, he was alone. 

He could act like he didn't care and like he could take anything that came at him, but Jeno knew that that wasn't the case. Jaemin cared, and Jaemin couldn't take any more punches. He was beaten to a pulp already and there wasn't anyone out there willing to extend their hand out to him to offer help.

Maybe there was Jaehyun, but for one reason or another, Jaemin seemed to keep him at arms length, not wanting him to get too close. If he did offer his help, would Jaemin accept it? Or were things between them just that difficult?

Because if so, Na Jaemin, the Prince and King never to be was utterly alone .

So alone, in fact, that he kept Jeno close. The man that was there to kill him was also the one person he deemed an ally, if even that.

Jeno looked at the parchment, his letter to Johnny in the making.

But he couldn't do it.

For some reason, he couldn't write more.

He has no one.

In a moment of weakness, his better judgement blinded by something vague and shapeless, Jeno crumpled up the paper and tossed it away to be picked up later, burned in the furnace that warmed the water for Jaemin’s bath. 

He picked up his quill, the nub dragging across the coarse surface.

So far my investigation has been inconclusive. Jaemin is as difficult to understand as he is to crack. 

He needed more time. After all, he had barely scratched the surface. That's all.

So he finished his letter, barely remembering what he wrote after he sealed it in an envelope. He’d give it to Junmyeon in the morning for the collection alongside everyone else.

For now, however, Jeno had other things to do.

On his bedside table was his sketchbook, and tucked into it was Jaemin’s drawing. It amused him, but it also filled him with an uncharacteristic warmth. One which he didn’t know what to do about. So he thought that maybe, as a means of equivalent exchange, he’d gift Jaemin with his own work. Though he doubted Jaemin would even care for it, with how much evident effort the Prince had put into his piece, it seemed like a nice thing to do.

Not that he cared.

And not that it really mattered.

Chapter Text

Jeno didn't think much of the handkerchief still shoved in the pocket of his jacket, forgetting about its existence until he pulled it out after rummaging through the article of clothing before tossing it to be washed. He pulled the fabric out, observing it with a curious, sceptical eye. 

A part of him believed there was no use in holding onto the tattered fabric and he considered disposing of it once and for all. However, a second, far more sentimental part of him argued against it. Even if he didn't understand the significance of it, he could tell that there was history to it. That there was a reason for it. Worn out. Held on to dearly.

And in the end, his sentimentality won over his rationality.

Jeno simply put it in the top drawer of the small wooden desk in his room. He could deal with that another time. For now, he had different priorities, such as announcing to Jaemin that he was to join the Regent for dinner later today as they would be hosting an impromptu guest.

Junmyeon had delivered the news to Jeno when he went to grab himself breakfast, now incorporating the brief meal in his routine, even if it meant waking up even earlier. The older retainer shared the quick change of plans with an awkward, apologetic smile. It was fine, but it did mean Jeno had to A: reorganise Jaemin’s schedule and B: deal with the aftermath of the Prince sharing a space with the Regent.

Hopefully Jaemin will cope with it just fine.

“I assume that the Prince might find this change… unpleasant,” Junmyeon said. “Though knowing him, he will adjust. I just hope that it doesn’t cause you much of a problem.”

“Not at all,” Jeno assured. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Junmyeon smiled, contemplating if he should add something else. He was a peculiar man from what Jeno had gathered about him so far. Not a man of many words, only saying what he deemed to be necessary. Kind. Helpful. Not the type of person Jeno would assume to hold ill-will towards anyone. But Junmyeon wasn’t his main focus anyway.

As for the guest in question, it was a Duke who was dabbling in political affairs. Probably not the best company for a meal, but who was Jeno to say? Maybe he was lovely. 

With his appearance in order, Jeno was ready to go. Before he left to pick up Jaemin’s breakfast on the way, he grabbed the pieces of paper sticking out of his sketchbook. He finished the drawing last night, taking a few creative liberties in Jaemin’s initial line work but doing his best to keep the heart of the piece. 

Jeno wasn't even certain he would hand it over to the Prince since he really had no reason to. If anything, he worried that Jaemin would think he was mocking him and his own abilities. Either way, he grabbed it and went to the kitchen where Jaemin’s breakfast was ready for him. Not only was he a retainer, he also served as a butler. 

Anything to keep the Prince satisfied.

Jeno carried the tray up to the Prince's room, knocking on the door once, then twice, before finally entering. As always, Jaemin was fast asleep, unresponsive and heavy like a boulder. The only way Jeno could successfully wake him up was by startling him, but even then Jaemin didn't respond with the same urgency a normal person would.

He settled the tray down carefully before turning his attention to the slumbering Prince, eyebrow raised at the sight. Jeno never knew what he was getting into when he walked in to wake Jaemin up; sometimes he was curled up in a fetal position, and sometimes he was spread out across the full bed. Sometimes on his side, his back, or his front. 

This time around, Jaemin was less chaotic, curled over on his side with one leg sticking out from under the covers to instead straddle the plush duvet. His hold looked tight even during his sleep. Quite the cuddler.

Jeno tried his luck by calling for Jaemin. Of course, that didn't work, and after trying three times - each time progressively louder - Jeno sighed in defeat. Force was necessary.

So he lightly nudged Jaemin. When that didn't work, he poked the man's exposed calf. Seeing no progress, he then applied more strength. Still nothing. 

Jeno knew better than to actually shake Jaemin awake, so he proceeded to shake the bed. The vibrations ended up stirring Jaemin enough for Jeno to successfully grab his attention when he called for him again. The Prince was groggy and slow, wiping the thick sleep from his eyes, but at least he was responsive.

“Good morning,” Jeno greeted. “Breakfast?”

Jaemin replied with a noncommittal hum, still struggling to come to terms with the fact he was awake. He pulled himself up slowly, slouching and smacking his lips as Jeno brought the breakfast tray to his lap. 

“Sleep well?” 

“Like always,” Jaemin replied, groggily picking up his fork. 

Jeno let Jaemin eat, going to open the curtains to let the light pour in. He heard a hiss from behind him as the Prince adjusted to the bright sunlight. 

Satisfied, Jeno moved to the wardrobe, taking out the clothes for today. Jaemin might need to get changed later on for dinner, especially if he was to entertain a guest, but for now the current outfit would suffice. A cream shirt with a ruffled collar and cuffs, smart, deep emerald pants, and a sandy gold jacket. 

Jaemin took his time with breakfast, nursing his tea as his eyes followed Jeno flittering around the room. It seemed to fascinate him and Jeno felt the weight of his gaze, constantly surveilled. Nothing would be missed.

“Any exciting plans for me today?” Jaemin asked, words followed by the faint clink of him placing his tea cup down. “If not, I was thinking I could visit the stables again before dinner. I don't have that much today anyway so-”

“I'm afraid that you are to have dinner with the Regent,” Jeno interrupted, nipping Jaemin’s enthusiasm at the bud. “You'll have a guest.”

“Oh,” Jaemin uttered, deflated. “Well that's soured my mood. You should really work on your delivery. At least tell me that it's not Marquess Kim or I might actually jump off the balcony.”

“It's not Marquess Kim,” Jeno assured. “And please don't joke about that.”

The Prince rolled his eyes.

“I have reorganised your schedule for today,” Jeno continued. “Though unfortunately, with how last minute all of this was, I-” And then Jeno paused, considering it. Yes, he had already made a plan, but nothing was technically set in stone. 

And even it was: so what?

“I was unable to keep in line with your lesson plan today,” Jeno said. “After your morning linguistics session, you are free the rest of the day. So if you wish to visit the stable before dinner, that will be doable. And I apologise for my incompetence,” he added with a faint bow.

It took Jaemin a second or two to respond, slowly processing exactly what Jeno said. 

“You're forgiven,” Jaemin said with an unusual tightness in his throat. He cleared the lump, smiling to himself afterwards. “I suppose not everything can go according to plan. I guess I'll live without wasting another day on my oh so beloved lessons. Was it history? Say, can you cancel all of the ones this week?”

“I believe this is the part where I reel you in,” Jeno mused. 

“Right. I'm getting too ahead of myself.”

Jeno hummed. 

After that, Jaemin resumed his breakfast. Once done, Jeno cleared the tray and prepared Jaemin’s clothes, waiting for the man to move out from under the covers. Jaemin retreated from beneath them with a dramatic sigh, his bare feet padding over to Jeno.

“I can dress myself, you know?” Jaemin pointed out, undoing the buttons of his sleeping shirt.

“Yet you don't,” Jeno said. “Funny how that works.”

“Funny indeed,” Jaemin mused, a sliver of his chest peeking out from behind the loose fabric. “In all fairness, these clothes were designed to be as inconvenient to put on as possible. So many frills and laces.”

“If you so wish I can dress you up like myself,” Jeno suggested. 

Jaemin hummed, tickled by the suggestion. “Very tempting, but the colours are so drab. You're practically a butler.”

“I definitely do feel like it,” Jeno said, not trying to make his flickering gaze towards the tray behind Jaemin any less obvious. “All part of the job, I suppose,” he added, extending his hand for Jaemin to drop his shirt.

He didn't let his eyes wander.

Still, Jaemin smirked. Either sensing Jeno’s restraint, or because he found Jeno’s behaviour in general peculiar. Weird. Strange. 

“Since I don't have any lessons bar linguistics, how about we drop the blazer? It's hot today; I'll end up tossing it away anyway.”

“Your outfits are set, your Highness.”

Jaemin groaned. “And don't you think that's moronic?”

He did, actually. It felt like playing dress up and Jaemin was nothing more than his doll. 

“Well… If you can come up with a better outfit, then be my guest,” Jeno replied, taking a small step to the side. 

And Jaemin did. With a wide grin, he rushed over to the wardrobe and started rummaging through it. From what Jeno understood, the clothes would be organised when the Prince was out of his room, the various outfits hung up in order. There were also miscellaneous pieces in a separate section of the wardrobe for later outfits or acting as spares.

Who exactly planned them out, Jeno wasn't sure. And whilst he knew it wasn't entirely out of the norm for someone of Jaemin’s standing to have the small details such as his wardrobe organised for him, it still came across uncomfortable when paired with all the little things surrounding his day to day.

It was as if he couldn’t be trusted to dress himself.

As if he couldn't do anything by himself.

All in line and according to plan.

His days were organised with lessons that while yes, definitely required, also could have been cut by here and there. Instead of sitting in on crucial meetings, discussing current affairs and pressing matters, or even being given the decency to have his voice heard, Jaemin was moved from one point to another with little care just to keep him occupied and distracted. Overwhelmed but not informed.

How much did the future King need to know about some obscure foreign book? How many languages were enough? Did he have to know every single thing that happened in the past five centuries, year by year, but left utterly oblivious to current affairs? 

Or was Jeno just too much of a nobody to understand how important all of that was?

Nevertheless, Jeno had a feeling Jaemin could handle getting dressed. 

“I always thought this was gaudy,” Jaemin mused, shivering in disgust as he pulled out a velvet jacket, the colour a wine red. 

He dropped the heavy fabric without care for it, going back to dig through the treasures in the spacious wardrobe. He hummed, sometimes appreciative and sometimes conflicted. 

There were a few moments where he turned around and extended his arms with an article of clothing in his hold, closing one eye and tilting his head. It took Jeno a few instances to realise that the Prince was picturing the clothes on Jeno.

“I think this should do,” Jaemin declared, settling on a simple baby pink shirt and a pair of light brown pants. 

Whilst still adorned with fine detailing and crafted with utmost care, meant for a royal such as Jaemin to wear, the clothes were more relaxed. Well suited for a day out in the stables.

“What do you think?”

“You have a good eye, your Highness.”

Jaemin clicked his tongue. “You know what I've realised?”

“What is it?”

“You tend to call me that when you want to say something else,” Jaemin commented. “Or maybe when you’re flustered. Actually, no, that's not quite right. More like when you're thinking.”

“Are you saying I don't usually think, your Highness?” The polite form of address was tagged on awkwardly, Jeno's cheeks dusting with a faint embarrassed blush. 

Jaemin snorted, closing the wardrobe behind himself. “Did I offend you?” He asked, handing Jeno the shirt he intended to wear, silently ordering him to help Jaemin put it on. 

Jeno glanced down at the thin, breathable fabric. “I thought you could dress yourself?”

“It's more fun when you do it.”

Unpredictable as always.

Unreadable.

♤♡◇♧

“I've been meaning to ask, but what's in your pocket?” The question came out of nowhere, startling Jeno who had basically zoned out, enjoying the pleasant sunshine and gentle breeze on their slow walk back towards the castle.

They had gone on a ride, taking Iris and Luna out so that the horses could stretch their legs and have a rematch of their previous race. Though Jeno was certain Jaemin and Luna won, he also found it more enjoyable to argue that it was a tie - for one because he wanted to uphold Iris’ honour, and two, because it was funnier that way. 

It also gave them an excuse for a third round. Not that that would be the end of it.

“My pocket?” Jeno asked, glancing down and patting down his jacket. Only then did he realise that something was sticking out of one of them. “Oh. It’s nothing,” he assured, running the corner of the paper in between his fingers. He contemplated pulling out, deciding against it since the mere thought made him embarrassed. 

But Jaemin wasn’t a quitter, pushing himself forward into Jeno’s personal space, faces inches apart just so that he could question him further. The Prince hummed, unconvinced, trying to work out why Jeno would lie to him so outwardly. “I don’t think so,” he mused, wrapping his hand around Jeno’s wrist to halt his movements. “Can I see?”

Jeno’s mouth went dry, paralysed by the intensity of Jaemin’s eyes. He could sometimes get scary like that - his expression misleadingly polite and lax when in fact it was beyond intimidating, holding a quality of a predator fooling it’s naive prey to beckon in closer, offering a false sense of security. In his life, Jeno had grown to know many people like that, but with Jaemin it was far more unnerving; the Prince was unpredictable, even if there was very little he could actually do to Jeno.

It was unlikely Jaemin could take him in a fight, nor did it seem Jaemin really understood what he was doing most of the time when he stared at Jeno like that, but that was what made it all the more uncomfortable. Jeno knew what to do in all possible scenarios. Or so he thought, because Jaemin left him at a conundrum, nothing making sense. 

“I- Of course, your Highness,” Jeno replied, the tension in his arm going slack, no longer fighting against Jaemin. He slowly pulled out the folded piece of paper, offering it to Jaemin. 

Curious, the younger man took it, carefully unfolding it to reveal the sketch. Slowly, his expression opened, lips forming a surprised ‘o’ and eyes widening, a soft gleam to them. He titled his head to the side, a minute act of confusion but also awe. After a few seconds to comprehend what exactly he was looking at, he let out an airy, humoured exhale, looking back up at Jeno. 

“You drew this?”

“Yes, your Highness,” Jeno replied, noticing the sharp flicker of something behind Jaemin’s eyes. 

“Isn’t this…” He didn’t complete his trail of thought, but Jeno nodded nevertheless. 

“I hope you’re not offended,” Jeno added. “This isn’t meant to poke fun at your own abilities. I simply quite liked your idea.”

Jaemin glanced back again, pulling in his expression to something tighter, brows furrowing as he chewed on his bottom lip. Gone was the charmed look of wonder and surprise, now replaced with a much softer yet even more conflicted face. Stuck somewhere between happiness and a poignant sadness that Jeno couldn’t crack, no matter how much he tried to make sense of it. 

In the end, all Jaemin could come up with was a genuine “it’s beautiful.”

Not expecting that, Jeno was caught off-guard. “Oh. Thank you, your Highness. You can- you can keep it.”

“I can?”

Jeno hummed. Noticing the strange air around them, too thick and suffocating, he cleared his throat and tried to diffuse the tension. “Consider it motivation to work even harder during your art lessons.”

At that, Jaemin snorted. The moment was gone. Partially. 

“You really are weird,” the Prince commented. “Funny at times.”

“I can be more serious if you so wish, your Highness.”

Jaemin shook his head no, a genial smile stretching across his face. “I prefer you as you are,” he assured, carefully folding the paper back in four to put in his own pocket. “You sure know how to keep me entertained. Not bad for a Lee.”

“Such high praises: I truly am flattered,” Jeno responded, earning himself a laugh from Jaemin. And not just any odd laugh - no, this one felt far more genuine than any Jeno had heard from the Prince before. There was actual warmth to it, softening the edges with a pleasant warm hue. So sincere and new that it left Jeno momentarily stumped, his chest going tight, the air in his lungs vanishing. 

“Don’t let it get to your head,” Jaemin continued, oblivious to the shift in Jeno’s demeanour right next to him. “Even if you are good at art. Where did you learn anyway?”

“My mother-” Jeno replied quickly without even thinking, his heart clenching with the chance to speak fondly of his departed mother. 

Sometimes, Jeno feared that he would forget all about her with how seldom he spoke of her - how little even he even knew of her - so whenever he could, he wanted to talk freely of her and all that she was. Her talents, her work, the short yet sweet years she spent with Jeno. 

But that wasn’t what was in his script. 

So Jeno suddenly deflated, pulling his enthusiasm right back in. He cleared his throat and tried again. “My mother thought art was a useful skill to have,” he explained, vague and lacking the initial emotion his voice carried. “Even for a role like this.”

Brows furrowed, Jaemin considered Jeno’s words and reaction, filing it away in the enigma that was his mind before he simply shrugged. “I suppose she was right. It’s proven itself quite useful already,” he stated. “Now I truly am motivated.”

They resumed their walk back inside without exchanging any further words, Jeno because he realised how close he was to messing up, and Jaemin because he simply had nothing else to say. 

Once they reached upstairs, Jaemin picked up his pace just so that he could open the doors to his bedroom for himself, not waiting for Jeno to do it for him - though he rarely did. Just one of the many things Jaemin didn’t like Jeno - or others, for that matter - doing for him. Still, it would be nice if he at least held it for more than a second for Jeno to catch up. 

Jeno slipped inside, holding onto the door so that it wouldn’t slam shut, instead closing it slowly behind himself as Jaemin already started to strip out of his shirt, the fabric falling to the floor with a soft sound. Jeno went to pick it up for him, folding it neatly over the back of one of the lounge chairs. It would need cleaning anyway, sullied with dirt from the outdoors and sweat from the unrelenting sun, summer now very much coming into full swing. 

“You’re not due for dinner for another hour,” Jeno pointed out. “Should I run you a bath?” 

“It’s like you read my mind,” Jaemin replied, collapsing on the couch with a groan. “Don’t mind me; I’ll just stay here.”

“Of course.”

Quickly, Jeno went to the adjourning bathroom, running the tap and checking the temperature of the water. Hot. 

He left the water running and prepared the bath as he was used to by now, dropping in all the soaks Jaemin indulged himself in: floral scents, fresh and uplifting. Funnily enough, Jaemin was more than happy for Jeno to do that task; he was a spoiled princeling after all. Not that it affected anything; a job was a job, and Jeno could get a bath ready if needed.

When he returned back into the large bedroom, Jaemin was exactly as he had left him, sprawled on the couch with his legs elevated on the arm rest. His hands were joined over his bare stomach, the skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. Jeno’s attention lingered on the lean muscle of Jaemin’s frame for a tad too long, appreciating the line of his body and the noticeable definition in his athleticism. 

Maybe he worked out in his bedroom? After all, he did retire considerably early for the night. It would be a decent use of his time.

“The bath is ready,” Jeno announced. 

He was met with an acknowledging hum. Jaemin didn’t get up though, instead waiting for Jeno to come closer towards him. 

“Carry me,” he said in that tone that made it clear he didn’t mean it, only saying it to annoy Jeno. He played the part of a bratty royal quite well, but Jeno was now used to all of his tricks. Maybe when he first arrived, he would have believed Jaemin actually wanted Jeno to carry him out, but by now it was obvious he liked to be difficult for the fun of the game. 

“As you wish, your Highness,” Jeno replied, acting as if he were getting ready to do so. 

Like a skittish cat trying to escape any form of affection, Jaemin curled himself away from Jeno, swatting the man’s hands. “Alright, alright. I was kidding,” he stated, drawing a satisfied smirk upon Jeno’s face. “But you can make yourself useful by taking these off,” he added, his hands dropping to his pants to unfasten them.  

He truly was shameless.

All part of the job though. 

When Jeno played the part of a butler on one of his earlier undercover stints, he didn’t have to actually do all tedious tasks such as dressing and stripping his so-called boss, but there were other house staff that would. Though, in that case, the man really did struggle with everything, acting like an utterly spoiled brat, without a doubt putting Jaemin to shame. Jeno really didn’t enjoy that undercover job in the slightest. Not that it mattered now that the man was dead, rotting in some fancy coffin that probably cost more than Jeno would ever have to his name. 

Jeno took hold of Jaemin’s ankle, lifting it up to undo the laces of his shoe. Once done, he pulled it off and went to the next foot, all whilst Jaemin observed with a pleased smirk. With the shoes now off and placed down carefully by the foot of the couch, Jeno looked back at Jaemin. The Prince met him with a teasing grin, lifting his hips up to make the slide down easier. 

Not wanting to waste any more time, Jeno slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of Jaemin’s pants, gently dragging them down. When his fingers brushed against Jaemin’s hot skin, he felt the faintest flex of muscle and a sharp intake of air, the noise akin to a hiss. 

He paid it no mind.

Or so he said to himself, dragging the movement out longer, letting his fingers brush against the slide of Jaemin’s thigh. When he pulled the fabric off, he neatly folded it over his arm, smoothing it over. 

“You should go before it gets cold, your Highness,” Jeno said, catching Jaemin’s startled expression, frozen in place, unsure what to do next. “I’ll come back when it’s time to depart for dinner,” he added, picking up the shirt on the back of the chair before he made his way to the door. Still, Jaemin didn’t move, causing Jeno to look over his shoulder, eyes meeting across the room. “Are you waiting for me to carry you, your Highness?”

The noise Jaemin made was a strange mix of a hum, exhale, and a bit of a garbled response. He tried again, shaking his head and replying back with a “no, you can leave.”

Amusing. 

Jaemin could really be amusing at times. 

♤♡◇♧

Jeno had quite an eventful half an hour before coming back to Jaemin’s bedroom. Probably the most notable thing that occurred was him running into the Regent. The older man was coming out of his office, expression haggard as if he had been mulling over something troublesome. Junmyeon wasn’t with him - not that they were attached at the hip, even if his own excessive time spent with Jaemin made him think that that was at the very least relatively normal - so Jeno was caught off-guard. At least with Junmyeon by his side it felt like he could relax. 

It wasn’t as if he wasn’t allowed to be seen by the Regent. In fact, as the Prince’s retainer, he probably was one of the only members of staff that could roam around somewhat freely around the palace without being deemed an unsightly nuisance. Still, Jeno would prefer to stay out of view of the Regent, unable to contain a full body shudder when the man’s chilly eyes landed on him. 

The interaction was brief though it felt far longer, each second dragging out. 

For the most part, Jeno was blanked out, responding on instinct. Only once Jaemin was mentioned did he actually take a second to think and focus. 

“I could see you two out there,” the Regent said. “For quite a while. I thought he would have had a lesson at that time.”

Jeno swallowed, unnerved. 

“Not that I think some idle time isn’t permissible,” the older man continued. “But for Jaemin… That boy requires structure. Discipline. I fear that without proper guidance and order he will lose track of what’s important. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course, your Majesty,” Jeno replied, posture straight and eyes looking straight ahead. Not like he would if it were Jaemin speaking to him. 

“Don’t let him waste his time.” And with that, the Regent left.

Jeno really didn’t like his presence.

But he didn’t think too much about it, resuming his other tasks. The dirty clothes were taken down to be washed and Jeno decided he deserved a break, popping into the kitchen for a quick bite. 

“I’m just testing for poison,” he said as he swiped a small puff pastry, earning himself a scowl from Kibum. 

“Keep doing that and he’ll specifically lace your food with it,” Kyungsoo chimed in.

Jeno had some time to freshen up as well, changing into a clean shirt, wiping his face and fixing his hair before he left to check up on the Prince. Their guest - Duke Jung Yunho - had already arrived, greeted by the Regent who first took him into one of the many tea rooms to discuss whatever matters Jeno wasn’t privy to. Matters he quite frankly didn’t care of. Though he was surprised to hear Onyan mentioned, not expecting it to be a part of the conversation within the palace. It wasn’t completely unexpected though.

With the dreaded dinner nearing closer, Jeno made his way to the Prince’s bedroom. Mark was the guard on duty, offering him a polite nod as he passed.

Jeno was about to knock on the door when he heard what he assumed to be a thud - something heavy falling over. In a moment of panic, Jeno didn’t bother with upholding proper manners, instead opening the door to see what was going on. 

When he finally got a glimpse of the bedroom and Jaemin standing at the centre of the mess, Jeno was absolutely baffled. Cabinet drawers were pulled open, the bed covers were untucked, half on the bed and half on the floor. Pillows were scattered around the place, and a wooden trinket box had tumbled over, its contents spilled.

And Jaemin… Well, Jaemin looked distraught. 

He had partially dressed himself, choosing a pair of black slacks and a baby blue shirt left untucked, the top few buttons still not done up. Skin flushed from a hot bath, damp hair tousled by a towel, he seemed scattered like an animal caught in a trap with nowhere to run. The sight made Jeno pause, not wanting to startle him any further.

Jaemin’s eyes were glazed with a wet film, red rimmed and brimming with the urge to cry. His lips quivered, and the mere sight of such vulnerability made Jeno feel like he was intruding. This wasn’t something he had witnessed from the younger man before. It wasn’t something he would ever get so see, yet there he was, staring right back at Jaemin in his rattled, defenseless state. 

“Your Highness,” Jeno called out softly, the polite form of address feeling wrong the second the words rolled off his tongue. It was far too detached, yet who was Jeno to get more personal? The realisation was an unpleasant one, leaving an acidic taste in his mouth. 

Why should he care if Jaemin was upset? 

“Did you see it?” Jaemin asked, the question coming out strained by a wet lump in his throat. “Did you- did you see it?”

“See what, your Highness?” Jeno dared to step closer, shutting the door after himself. 

Jaemin swallowed, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “My handkerchief,” he replied, startling Jeno. There was no way all of this mess was because he couldn’t find some pocket sized piece of fabric. “Did you see it?”

“I- I don’t believe so,” Jeno replied. “Don’t you have multiple-”

“I don’t mean just any other one!” Jaemin interrupted, flaring up with the weight of his grievance. “It’s- It’s not just some handkerchief. I- Have you seen it?” He tried again, a sense of urgency lacing his words, desperate. Jaemin stepped forward, coming close to Jeno for help as if Jeno could actually offer any. 

Why did Jeno feel it deep in his stomach? The severity. The itch to do something. 

Jeno licked his lip and inhaled, shoulders rising. “What does it look like?” He asked before adding “and when did you see it last?”

Now that he saw that Jeno was actually offering to help, Jaemin became less distraught. 

“I- It’s white,” the Prince explained, gesturing his hands to also give the rough size of it, trying to remember exactly what it looked like. “And it has gold thread on the border. I think I- I think I last had when… When I went to the court meeting? I think. Yes, I think that was- but I-” Jaemin couldn’t finish a thought, looking over to his bedside table. “I would’ve- I would’ve put it back but… I didn’t?” He sounded perplexed by his own screw-up, unable to determine just why he had messed up. But he did, and now he was bearing the consequences. 

Not that Jeno thought losing a handkerchief was all that drastic. 

“It’s probably been misplaced,” Jeno assured, picturing the discarded fabric in his desk drawer back in his own room. 

Was it really that precious to Jaemin? Surely it could be replaced, especially considering it was very much damaged now. It was unlikely Jaemin would want it returned in its current state. Perhaps it could be swapped out if it really mattered so much to the Prince; what was the likelihood that Jaemin would notice anyway?

“But I- I still need it,” Jaemin argued. “I need it now.”

“I understand,” Jeno assured, lying, “but we must get you to dinner soon. I’m sure that we’ll be able to find your handkerchief, but it will simply have to wait-”

“It can’t!” Jaemin exclaimed, loud. It wasn’t as obvious the first time, but he wasn’t angry as he shouted. It took him uttering “it can’t” one more time, defeated and wounded, for Jeno to realise that he was filled with debilitating melancholy. 

Melancholy and fear.  

“I can’t wait,” Jaemin admitted, dejected. He looked up at Jeno, eyes pleading. “I can’t go out there without it.” 

Perhaps at any other time, Jeno would have responded with an eyeroll, rationalising Jaemin’s behaviour as nothing more than him being a peculiar, weird, unpredictable and annoying young royal. Maybe he would have done just that, or maybe now knowing just a bit more about Jaemin than he did at the very start of their master servant relationship, he wouldn’t. 

But as he looked at Jaemin right now, seeing the Prince in such a vulnerable, genuinely broken state after the loss of something so seemingly insignificant as a darn handkerchief, Jeno couldn’t find it in himself to muster up the indifferent cruelty he may or may not have shown otherwise. It didn’t feel right in the slightest, the sorry appearance of Jaemin jarring enough to chip a crack in Jeno’s heart. His eyes, glossy and tired, carried so much turmoil and agony.

Jeno couldn’t look away no matter how much he wanted to.

And as he looked, the more it felt like he was looking right back at his own reflection.

It just wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t right.

So Jeno realigned himself, calculating the best choice of action. He sucked in a deep breath, standing straight and firm, being the sturdy support Jaemin wanted him to be in that moment. 

“But you have to. And you will,” Jeno stated. “We can look for it afterwards. For now, however, you have to have dinner with the Regent and our guest, Duke Jung. So either you pull yourself together, or you go out there looking like this and make them think even less of you. It’s your choice, so pick wisely.”

Tough love. It was the only thing he could offer under his current situation. Tough love and the knowledge that Jaemin hated being demeaned and seen as weak by his uncle and all the other snobby elites of society. If he could prove them wrong, then he’d jump on the occasion. 

“So what will it be?”

Conflicted, Jaemin grinded his teeth, fighting back the tears brimming behind his eyes. “Will you look for it?” He asked, his choice hinging on that one simple answer.

“I promise you that I will find and return it to you,” Jeno assured with unwavering confidence. After all, he knew exactly where it was. Though he would have to figure out what to do with the sizable tear in it, especially now that he had a very strong feeling that Jaemin would realise if he swapped it out with another handkerchief. If he felt so strongly about it missing, then it really must have meant a lot to him. 

“Really?”

“Really.”

That must have been all that Jaemin needed to make his decision. 

He took a step back, looking around the room with an air of shame. “I ugh…” 

“It’s alright,” Jeno said, surprising himself with his comforting tone. He moved forward, closing the distance Jaemin created between them. “I’ll get this sorted, so don’t worry. And now, how about we get you looking presentable for our guest? Leaving a good impression is crucial to build and maintain a favourable reputation, don’t you think so?”

“Right,” Jaemin agreed, glancing down at his shirt left messily undone. “You’re right.”

Jaemin let Jeno take care of him, far more pliant than he would have been at any other time. The contrast between now and this morning was jarring, as if Jeno was dealing with two completely different individuals. Yet both were so intrinsically Jaemin, two parts of a variable, ever changing personality. Unpredictable. 

Eyes downcast, Jaemin didn’t say anything as Jeno got him into suitable attire for the semi-formal meal. Something more intricate and tedious to deal with, tying up laces and carefully styling the ruffling fabric. He noticed the way Jaemin’s fingers twitched at his side, rubbing his thumb and index finger together in a way that sparked familiarity.

“Where’s the picture I gave you?” Jeno asked, cocking his eyebrow.

Instead of a verbal response, Jaemin looked over to his desk. Jeno walked over, finding the paper unfolded and placed on top of a pile of three books. He grabbed it and folded it back up, bringing it to Jaemin. 

“If you wish to fiddle with something, use this instead,” he suggested, handing the image over to Jaeming. “It’s probably not as nice as a handkerchief, but it’s something, isn’t it?”

The emotion that flashed across Jaemin’s expression was new and strange, and it only appeared for a split second, vanishing right in front of Jeno’s eyes. It was unfamiliar to him, and with how brief it was, Jeno couldn’t exactly say what it was, but Jaemin’s further response led him to believe it was, for the most part, positive. 

“Thank you,” the Prince uttered, holding the folded paper to his chest.

Jeno hummed, finishing up with Jaemin’s appearance. Once satisfied, he stepped back. “Let’s go.”

He opened the door for Jaemin, letting him go through first. As Jaemin walked on in a trance-like state, Jeno stepped aside briefly to tell Mark to get someone to clean Jaemin’s room whilst they were gone. The guard nodded, waiting for them to disappear from his line of sight before moving to fulfil Jeno’s orders. 

The walk towards the dining hall was a silent one - awkward, even. It was as if with every step he took, Jaemin shrunk in on himself. The closer they got to entering and meeting the Regent and Duke Jung, the less Jaemin Jaemin became. His steps were heavy with hesitation, smaller and fearful. He was a lamb up for slaughter, dreading his fate. 

He wasn’t like this before - not to this extent. 

And so, Jeno wondered. 

He wondered if the hand in his pocket the first time Jeno saw Jaemin deal with the Regent clutched onto the same square of fabric that had now gone missing. He wondered if what he forgot during his meeting with Marquess Kim was the same handkerchief in question - the very same one that Jeno saw him take out from the box he kept in one of his bedside drawers, kept safe and hidden. 

Was it the one thing that kept him from total collapse? Like right now?

Jaemin came to a halt at the door.

Jeno wondered just how much of the Prince’s real side he had witnessed so far. 

The doors were opened for them, and Jaemin could no longer stand around. He took in a deep breath and stepped inside, greeting the Regent and Duke Jung. 

Jaemin sat down, nervous and noticeably jittery. His uncle side-eyed him but made no comment on his behaviour, instead picking up on the conversation he had with the Duke before Jaemin’s arrival. 

Despite everything, Jeno liked to think he knew Jaemin well enough to know how he would normally act in this situation; even if his words would be drowned out and ignored, he would still try to speak. Maybe he would throw out a mild attempt at flattery, trying to make his guest soften up to him no matter how unlikely he thought that might be. 

But this time around, Jaemin did none of that. He was a complete shell of himself, only responding when spoken to, otherwise making himself invisible without putting up a fight whatsoever. It was pathetic to watch. But more than that, it made Jeno uncomfortable. It made him feel sick seeing Jaemin so snubbed of his typical fire, so close to being extinguished. 

When the meals came in, Jaemin struggled to even pick up his cutlery. His hands were shaking and his eyes flickered around, panicking. 

Just eat, Jeno thought to himself. It won’t kill you, so just eat. 

But Jaemin couldn’t hear his thoughts, which left Jeno with only one option. He overstepped a boundary, coming closer to the table - something that left Junmyeon rattled from where he remained at the side. Still, he couldn’t bear to watch Jaemin completely self-destruct in front of him. He couldn’t stand it when he knew that this wasn’t Jaemin, lacking the fight and life he was used to by now. 

So he approached the table, raising eyebrows as he leaned in to whisper in Jaemin’s ear. “I snuck into the kitchen as you were bathing,” he uttered, voice hushed and meant for Jaemin only. “It annoyed Kibum, but I did try a few of the things on your plate. And, unless your eyes deceive you, I’m still alive, aren’t I?” With that, he pulled back, offering a polite and apologetic smile to the Regent and Duke, returning to the side with Junmyeon.

“What was that about?” The older retainer asked under his breath.

“Some motivation,” Jeno responded, smiling softly to himself when Jaemin sank his fork into a juicy cut of meat, bringing it to his lips after skirting around it for so long. 

Skipping meals wasn’t healthy, and after all, Jeno had to keep Jaemin alive until the coronation.

That’s all. 

♤♡◇♧

It was stupid, but there Jeno was, using his free time to mend a torn up handkerchief just because Jaemin acted like he couldn’t live without it. He had to go around and ask where he could get sewing supplies from, in the end having to rely on Junmyeon to source it for him from their seamstress. In hindsight, Jeno should have just gone to her directly, but he also was in so much of a hurry that he simply couldn’t think straight. 

The dinner with Jaemin, the Regent and Duke Jung was an absolute mess. Jeno thought he had seen the worst of it already with Jaemin being shut off during the royal court gathering, however he was proven wrong. Jaemin just didn’t talk. He didn’t engage. He barely moved, consumed by what Jeno could only assume was all devouring fear.

Nothing like the man he was used to. 

And it bothered him far more than it should have. 

It bothered him immensely, plaguing his mind for the rest of the day. When he dropped Jaemin off to his room, it had already been cleaned by the maids, the chaos from before wiped away. Jaemin didn’t want Jeno to help him undress, keeping the retainer from stepping inside, dejected and tired. All Jeno could do was wish the Prince goodnight before he was met with a closed door in his face. 

And he couldn’t even be mad. Instead, he was confused. Confused and disheartened to an extent that didn’t make sense. After all, what reason did he have to care? 

But he cared nevertheless, despite the rational part of his brain telling him there was no use. There was no point. It was just a job.

Yet he undoubtedly cared.

With Jaemin completely shut off for the day, Jeno decided he had to do something about the man’s mood lest the melancholy consumed him completely. Dealing with Jaemin was a challenge, never quite sure what to expect, but Jeno preferred the unknown and spontaneous to the gloomy and lethargic that was bound to follow in the coming days. 

So he didn’t spend the late evening with the other staff in the common room, only stopping by the kitchens to grab something to eat, taking it to his bedroom where he proceeded to think about how to best fix the handkerchief in his possession. He considered a few ways, but none of them were satisfactory. 

The fabric that had torn was far too thin and weak by now to simply stitch back together and hope for the best. He could patch it up, but that would require finding a familiar material, silky and smooth. Besides, that would still end up looking like a patch work, frankensteined together. 

The best Jeno could come up with was covering it up. 

Of course, that risked Jaemin’s dissatisfaction, changing something that clearly meant a lot to him with a design Jeno wasn’t even a hundred percent sure about. 

But it was the best he could do. 

After finishing up his food, Jeno got to work. He grabbed his sketchbook and brainstormed a few ideas: flowers, swirls, stars, the moon, the sun, a bird. 

He quite liked the bird. A swallow, just like the gold chain hanging around Jaemin’s neck, kept hidden from the world under all his clothes, meant just for him. Though Jeno couldn’t quite remember the exact position the bird of the small pendant was in, he settled on something that would cover up the tear the best. 

The sewing kit he was leant had a wide array of threads and scraps of material to use - none as nice as the silky material of the handkerchief itself - so Jeno also had to consider his best options. He thought of the gold thread to match the border, but then wondered if it would be too gaudy even for a royal. It was a tough choice to make - one which could potentially make things even worse - so Jeno decided to test a few combinations out first. After all, he wasn’t about to start working directly on the handkerchief with only a vague idea in his mind of what he wanted. 

Jeno used some of the spare patches of fabric in the kit to test out his design and the threads. When he still wasn’t satisfied, he made another. And another. Not wanting to waste too much of the scraps of cloth and materials, Jeno started sewing the design into his own bedsheets, adorning the edge of the sheet in a row of swallows, all varying sizes, colours, and positions. 

Hours passed without Jeno noticing, transfixed on the task at hand. He didn’t realise just how much he was doing until he pricked his finger with the needle, hissing and bringing the digit up to his lips to suck the blood. It gave him a chance to sit back and observe all that he had achieved in his frenzied state, thinking about nothing but the perfect design for Jaemin’s torn handkerchief. 

Everywhere he looked he could see a swallow, the small bird looking right back at him.

He gave himself a moment to just relax. The designs were sprawled out right in front of him, attaching themselves to whatever expanse of fabric Jeno could get his hands on in the process. There were just so many, but Jeno thought that maybe, just maybe, he had found the one. 

Golden thread outlining the bird, matching white thread used for the main body so that it didn’t seem like too much. It was subtle, delicate. Additional streaks of gold were used in the split tail, the bottom edges of the wings, and its eyes and beak to mimic the colouring of the real life bird. 

It worked. 

So now Jeno just had to get the design onto the handkerchief without ruining it.

He first made sure that there was no more blood coming from the small prick on his finger before he grabbed a scrap of fabric from the sewing kit, cutting it into a small square to patch up the hole. He was careful with the needle, and though the cover up would be hidden with the bird design, he still wanted the patch work to be impossible to find otherwise. 

He was extremely precise as he worked, putting more effort and care into this than any other sewing task he had before. This was more than just patching up some ragged clothes or switching up the tags on fake goods. This meant far more than that, and so, Jeno wouldn’t allow himself to mess up in the slightest. One mistake could cost him everything, having to start again.

So he didn’t rush.

If it ate up most of his night, then so be it. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise, helping Jeno avoid a night of unpleasant dreams, scenes from his past - distant and recent - haunting him on the most random of nights. None as of late - at least none that he could remember or deem worse than what he was used to. That didn’t mean that he was safe from them. The thing about nightmares was that they always found a perfect, peaceful time to strike. 

Nevertheless, in the end, Jeno finished after a few long, tedious hours of working. He was satisfied with the design and how it looked on the handkerchief. You wouldn’t be able to tell that there was ever a tear in the fabric in the first place.

But now, he was exhausted. 

Unfortunately, he wouldn’t get much sleep.

But at least Jaemin won't be miserable tomorrow. Hopefully.

♤♡◇♧

Jeno knew he looked a mess, the dark circles under his eyes alarming everyone that he came across. Yeojin thought he was unwell when she saw him, gasping in horror. And whilst he wasn’t sick, he definitely felt groggy, his hands aching from the precise controlled movements from the night before. He had dealt with worse nights, running on far less sleep than this, but after getting used to a steady schedule, he forgot just how bad it could feel to skip out on a few hours of well needed rest.

The older woman suggested he cover the discolouration with some makeup, offering to grab some powder for him but Jeno assured it was fine. He proceeded to have his breakfast, snapping himself into reality whenever he felt himself start to doze off. Maybe Jaemin would take pity on him and dismiss him for the day.

Jeno had the handkerchief with him, keeping it safely in his breast pockets, ready to deliver to the Prince first thing in the morning. He just hoped that Jaemin wouldn’t be offended by his patch work. 

He would find out sooner than later, heading over to the Prince’s chambers after finishing his portion of oats and fresh fruit, needing the energy for the day ahead. 

At the door, Jeno took in a deep breath before knocking on to announce his presence. With no response, he stepped inside. Surprisingly, Jaemin wasn’t tucked under his covers, instead missing from his bed. In a split second of worry, Jeno’s stomach sank to the floor, only to stabilise himself when he noticed the top of the Prince’s head further in the room, the man sitting on the couch with his knees tucked in, chin resting on his knees.

Slowly, Jaemin looked over at Jeno, greeting him with nothing more than an acknowledging blink. 

Startled, Jeno stuttered over his own words. “G-good morning,” he greeted, walking towards Jaemin. “Did you sleep?” He asked, confused as to why the Prince was up so early when it typically took an earthquake to wake Jaemin up.

“I tried,” Jaemin replied, sounding just as drained as he looked. “Sorry, I- I know I…” he didn’t finish, but Jeno had a feeling he knew what Jaemin wanted to say.

I know I’m childish. 

I know I’m stupid.

I know I’m overreacting. 

Partially, Jeno wanted to agree. But what did that make him after spending the entire night sewing up the cause of Jaemin’s problems?

Jeno exhaled, putting the breakfast he brought down on the table, coming to a stop in front of Jaemin. The younger man didn’t look up, too ashamed to meet Jeno’s eyes. 

“Yesterday was… I really made a fool of myself, didn’t I? Nothing better than proving my uncle right,” he uttered, following up with a bitter chuckle. “Go figure.”

Unable to stand the sorry state of Jaemin in front of his eyes, Jeno pulled out the neatly folded square of fabric from his pocket, offering it up to Jaemin in his open palm. The instant Jaemin saw it, his attention snapped right up at Jeno, eyes wide and open.

“Is that…”

“A maid found it when doing laundry,” Jeno explained. “But it got torn so… I did what I could,” he added, unfolding the handkerchief to reveal his best attempt at fixing the delicate material. The gold and white swallow faced up, its golden eye meeting Jaemin, seeking his approval for its existence. 

With wary hands, Jaemin reached for it, picking the handkerchief, running his fingers over the newly added detailing, the thread expertly integrated into the fabric. He looked at it with glimmering awe, lips parted. He blinked quickly as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. 

Every second of silence which passed left Jeno feeling unnerved, unable to gauge the extent of Jaemin’s reaction. However, when the younger man finally looked up at him, his hands kept close to his chest, keeping the handkerchief secure, Jeno’s heart skipped a beat. Because there Jaemin was, looking up at him with tear glossed eyes, as vulnerable as could be, thankful. His lips quivered, and the second he uttered a soft and hoarse “thank you” he unravelled.

Just like the threads which had held on for far longer than they could, Jaemin came undone slowly and then all at once. It started with a tear trailing down his cheek, followed with a choked sob, his breathing unstable. 

From there on, he became a wreck, hiding his face from Jeno, curling up on himself as he sobbed, the hiccuping sound echoing throughout his bedroom which now more than ever felt cold, the vibrant greens and pinks seeming dull and lifeless even with the morning sun slipping through the curtains. 

Shrouded in darkness, Jaemin cried, the pain carried in his heart spilling out in ferocious waves, pouring out and drowning Jeno in them. He could feel the chilling water filling the confines of the Prince’s chambers, rising slowly, inch by inch until Jeno had no other choice but to accept there was no escape. 

Every broken cry brought with it another sharp pain in Jeno’s heart, and no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, he simply couldn’t. 

He felt everything, the sheer sorrow engraved in Jaemin’s heart, having nowhere else to go. It stained his entire being from within, and at last it had reached full capacity, needing to spill out before it drowned him completely. Jeno could hear the despair - could feel it with every broken sob and tremor of Jaemin’s shoulders, his hands clutching on desperately to the handkerchief that was nothing more than a square of nice fabric in Jeno’s eyes, but what was clearly something more. 

Something so dear to Jaemin that it could render him dysfunctional, falling apart like an abandoned child, heart broken and completely alone. 

Jeno clenched his jaw, the tangible grief wracking Jaemin striking something deep and tender within himself, touching on an old wound that would never heal, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it and pretend it wasn’t there. He understood the ache, his knees going weak and bile coming up his throat, sick and unsteady. 

He hated it. He didn’t want to experience it. 

Yet he did. 

Just like Jaemin, he felt all of it, crushed by it. 

He moved without thinking, subconsciously reaching out to Jaemin because he understood the daunting weight of his grief. It was a reckless thing, stupid even, but there Jeno was, his hand lightly patting the crown of Jaemin’s head, gentle with his touch as to not startle. Gentle and far too tender, but something which he thought necessary. Something that he thought would feel nice, craving the comforting touch himself.

Jaemin’s sobs came to an abrupt pause, confused by the contact between them. He looked up, eyes red and puffy, sniffling as he furrowed his brow, confused and uncertain. Yet Jeno still didn’t let go, instead offering a kind and reassuring smile to the younger man, lightly ruffling his hair before stroking down the side of his face, thumb running across flushed skin to wipe away the streaks of salty tears. 

Far too tender. Too kind. 

Unnecessary. 

In the end it wouldn’t matter. But right now, it did. 

It mattered more than anything else. 

They didn’t move, unable to so much as breathe with the unusual air between them, the tension poignant. 

There was hesitation, but Jaemin was the first to crack, doing something Jeno would have never expected him to do in a million years. Because once the moment of stillness broke, Jaemin lunged himself forward to hug Jeno, wrapping his arms around the man’s middle with his face burrowed in Jeno’s stomach, holding him with the force and intent of someone who hadn’t been touched all his life. It was a pathetic, desperate embrace.

One which Jeno reciprocated. He placed a hand at the back of Jaemin’s head, the other just below his nape, holding him steady as Jaemin continued to cry softly, no doubt getting Jeno’s shirt wet with his tears. Not that it mattered. 

“Thank you,” Jaemin muttered after what felt like five minutes of nothing more but standing around in each other’s arms, Jeno’s fingers lightly massaging Jaemin’s scalp. 

Jeno hummed. “What retainer would I be if I couldn’t patch up a precious handkerchief,” he mused, trying to lighten the mood even if he felt his stomach flip the second he tried to speak. “It’s nothing,” he assured. But it clearly wasn’t nothing. Not this time around. 

Jaemin shook his head, clutching on tight to the fabric of Jeno’s jacket, still refusing to let go. “Thank you,” he repeated, words dripping with overwhelming sincerity. “For everything.”

Everything.

Jeno’s body stiffened for a split second, not sure how else to react to the Prince’s words. 

What even was everything? Just what had Jeno done to deserve Jaemin’s genuine gratitude?

So he didn’t say anything, instead resuming with working his fingers in Jaemin’s hair until Jaemin finally decided he was content enough to pull away, his hold on Jeno slipping. He sat back on the couch, cheeks flushed, eyes red-rimmed, face puffy. 

Jaemin wiped at his eyes and the stains left on his cheeks, doing very little to hide the extent of his breakdown. Not that Jeno really minded, finding the man’s current appearance oddly appealing. Appealing in the sense that it felt real and raw, a side of him that Jeno had never experienced until now. A side of him which made Jaemin feel truly human. Like someone Jeno knew - no longer a stranger or mere acquaintance. He was more now. 

“Do I look bad?”

“Do you want me to be honest or should I sugar coat it?” Jeno replied, earning himself a wet laugh from the Prince. “I’ve definitely seen worse,” he added, dropping his hands from Jaemin once he realised he was still holding onto him. Flustered by it, he cleared his throat and looked at the table. “You should probably have your breakfast before it gets cold,” he suggested, stepping aside to lift the cover. He then poured out the tea in the pot for Jaemin, handing it to the man, offering him a brief smile.

As Jaemin considered his food, Jeno briskly moved around the room to pull the curtains open, allowing the morning sun to flood the enclosed space, breathing some much needed life into it. He also decided to open the doors to the balcony to get some fresh air circulating inside. It was a relatively lovely day, warm with a pleasant breeze ruffling the treetops. There were a few clouds in the sky, light and fluffy, no signs of imminent rainfall.

A good day to do nothing at all. 

Jeno decided to give Jaemin some extra space and time without interrupting him, doing any chore he could around the room without looking at the Prince just in case it made him feel uncomfortable. So he did the bed, fluffed the pillows and rearranged them like the maids would have done. In the corner of his eyes he did however spot something that caught his attention, causing his movements to come to a halt. 

There, on Jaemin’s bedside table was the drawing Jeno gave him, the paper creased from constantly being folded and unfolded, the edges of the paper roughened up. Yet still it was kept close and dearly as if it were more than a sketch Jeno decided to complete on a thoughtless whim. Treasured by the Prince for one reason or another. 

When Jeno exhausted all that he could do around the bedroom, he returned to Jaemin by the couch, relieved to see that he did at least have some of his breakfast. 

Usually, this would be the part Jeno would run through the day ahead before preparing Jaemin to head out, getting him washed up and dressed. But right now, that didn’t feel appropriate. So he stood around, allowing Jaemin to sip his tea in peace without having to worry about another set of schedules that he didn’t even want to attend. In all honesty, most of them were a waste of time anyway. 

The Regent mentioned discipline and keeping to an organised plan so that Jaemin wouldn’t lose track of himself, but surely it didn’t have to be so tedious. Jaemin wasn’t a child; he didn’t need every moment of his day planned ahead in great detail. 

Besides, some spontaneity was also beneficial. 

“It’s a quite nice day today,” Jeno mused. “It would be a shame to stay inside all day, don’t you think?”

At that, Jaemin looked up. 

“Personally, I think today just isn’t going to work, is it?” Jeno asked. “What did you have organised for the day? Right: history and another literature lesson. Quite dull for such wonderful weather.”

Jaemin seemed confused but didn’t interrupt Jeno, wondering where he was going with this.

“As your retainer, I think what would do you best is enjoying the day to the fullest. Some fresh air and sun also works wonders on one’s mood so I doubt that the Regent would protest too much,” Jeno explained. “After all, you were under the weather yesterday. As your guardian, he should take that seriously and do what’s best. And so, I don’t see any issues with skipping your lessons today. Do you?”

Dumbfounded, Jaemin blinked slowly. Once. Twice. 

And he smiled, chuckling at the absurdity of Jeno’s monologue. “No. I don’t,” he replied, his lips etched into a soft smile that held its place the whole time he looked at Jeno. “You’re very wise for a retainer,” he added with a spark of playfulness. “Not bad for a Lee.”

“Thank you,” Jeno replied, finding himself smiling despite his better judgement. “Now, would you like me to help you get dressed, or am I fine to leave you to it?”

“I think I’ll be fine,” Jaemin assured. “Thank you.”

♤♡◇♧

Jeno cancelled Jaemin’s lessons, feeling justified in doing so.

Most of Jaemin’s teachers resided in the palace or close enough for a change of plans to not matter too much to them in the first place. Though, his literature teacher asked if something was the matter, only for Jeno to reply that Jaemin was feeling under the weather. Technically, he wasn’t lying; Jaemin had seen better days, and considering he didn’t sleep well, he was barely keeping himself together. 

Perhaps it would have been a wiser decision to just let him stay in bed for the rest of the day, but Jaemin wouldn’t agree. Instead, he insisted on going out just as Jeno had initially suggested. However, he did request Jeno to bring a blanket for him to spread out on a nice, soft patch of grass. 

When Jeno returned to the Prince’s room to pick him up, Jaemin was ready for him. Dressed in clothes far more casual than what would have been picked out for him, Jaemin stood by his bed, two books in hold. 

“Shall we go?” Jeno asked, holding the door open for Jaemin. 

Checking the books in his hold one more time, Jaemin responded with a shrug, walking through the doorway. Jeno followed after him, greeting Mark with a nod as he passed the guard, visibly confused by the blanket thrown over Jeno's arm. 

On their way they crossed paths with a few butlers, maids carrying out their duties around the place, as well as Junmyeon who also seemed rather shocked to see the two walking around. He didn't say anything, but Jeno was ninety percent sure that he would end up mentioning it to the Regent. Eighty-five percent. Maybe less. Something about the crease of Junmyeon’s eyes as he settled on a polite smile made him wonder if perhaps he would let this be their little secret instead.

In the end they stepped outside, the shift in temperature and air quality instantly working wonders for Jaemin’s mood. At least that's what Jeno assumed, observing as the Prince rolled his shoulders and took in a deep breath. There was still some uncertainty to him, toeing between being fine and relaxed, and close to breaking down.

Preferring the former, Jeno led Jaemin towards the gardens. The younger man picked a spot to set up the blanket. Once decided, he plopped himself down, sitting cross-legged as Jeno was left standing.

Not for long.

Jaemin looked up at Jeno, patting the spot next to himself. Without questioning it, Jeno took his spot by the Prince, deliberately sitting on the side which would block him from direct sunlight. He wasn't certain that's why Jaemin’s lips twitched upwards in mild amusement, but he had a feeling that that was the reason. 

“Thank you,” Jaemin uttered - for the shade, for the handkerchief, or for the change in plans, Jeno wasn’t entirely sure. “You didn't have any other plans, did you?”

“All I do revolves around yourself,” Jeno explained. “In other words: I don't have any other plans.” Only after speaking did he realise just how dramatic he sounded. 

But he wasn’t lying; there wasn’t anything else to do now that Jaemin had nothing but lounging around planned. Maybe if he was like Junmyeon - granted with greater trust and responsibility in the day to day operations of the palace - then he would, but as it stood, Jeno was completely dependent on whatever it was Jaemin wanted, glued to his side. 

Probably for the better; Jeno was a decent actor and could carry out the role of a butler or whatever it was that his current position required, but if he had to actually do important admin tasks like accounting or dealing with officials… he’d either be fired or locked up within the span of a week. That was being generous, as well. 

“You really do know how to flatter,” Jaemin mused, bumping their shoulders together in a display of familiarity Jeno wasn’t expecting. However, before he could even react, Jaemin moved, placing the two books he brought with himself down in front of Jeno’s feet.  “I thought you might like them,” he said. “I’ll probably… I’ll probably doze off so if you get bored… Yeah. But do wake me up, alright? I should be fine after an hour or two,” he added, speaking with an uncharacteristic coyness. 

“Can I actually read them?” Jeno asked, tapping his index finger against the cover of the topmost book. “Or are you playing a prank on me?”

“I’m not that heartless,” Jaemin responded. “I even picked them out specifically with you in mind. Something to keep you here.”

“Someone does have to keep an eye out on you,” Jeno agreed, picking up the first book to flick through the pages. “What if you get swooped up by a vulture?”

Jaemin chuckled, laying himself down on the blanket. “Do we even have those here?”

“I’m not an ornithologist.”

At that, Jaemin gawked, baffled. 

“You’ll swallow a fly if you keep your mouth open like that,” Jeno teased. 

Jaemin pressed his lips in a thin line, settling back on the soft blanket. “I don’t even know what that word means,” he mused after a while, causing Jeno to smile. Jeno couldn’t even call Jaemin dumb for not knowing it because he himself only just about learned it after dealing with an illegal animal smuggling request a few months back. That was a fun one.

Nevertheless, Jaemin made himself comfortable, the sun blocked from his face by Jeno’s frame. He looked up to him, considering something before exhaling, body relaxing. 

“Wake me up some time today, alright?”

“I’ll definitely try,” Jeno responded. “Now sleep.”

Jaemin did his best to steady his breathing, slowly but surely letting the exhaustion of a restless night consume him. He was out cold soon enough and Jeno honestly envied him, needing a nap as well after staying awake for so long. 

Jeno glanced at Jaemin, peacefully asleep, open and vulnerable right by Jeno’s side, trusting him enough to let his guard down. 

It wasn’t that bad, Jeno supposed. Maybe he didn’t get a good night’s sleep, but at least he had a relaxing day up ahead. 

For a while, Jeno didn’t do anything, simply enjoying being out in nature. Whilst he wasn’t an outdoors person, Jeno found peace being out like this - not cooped up inside, nobody nagging at him, just existing without a care in the world. It was nice. A luxury he couldn’t afford back home, wherever his home may be. 

He did have four walls he could call home, but they weren’t his. Everything he owned wasn’t actually his in the end, more so leased out from Johnny until he could pay his debt off. On one hand he was grateful - grateful to have met Johnny, to have been saved by him from an undoubtedly worse fate. After all, he was housed, clothed, and fed, as well as given a means to earn a living - not as luxurious as that of a monarch, but one which got him through the day. 

A living which, after Jeno was done here, would be more than surviving. 

Johnny promised him land and enough gold to last him a lifetime. It meant freedom. 

All he had to do was get through this job. 

All he had to do was… kill Jaemin. 

The same Jaemin who was currently sound asleep by his side, finding comfort and peace in the presence of a man whose entire purpose of being here was to eliminate him. A truth which was cruel in its irony. A truth which Jeno didn’t want to think about, his stomach churning, bile rising up his throat. 

Pushing down the feeling, Jeno picked up one of the books. Jaemin had picked them out for him. Jeno had no idea what criteria he used to come to his decision in choosing these books, so Jeno was intrigued to see what exactly was in store for him. He gave the book a careless flick through earlier though he didn’t actually pay attention to any words on the pages. 

Now, he started at the front page, going one by one. 

It was slow at first, taking its time in building up the world and protagonist, but soon enough, Jeno was hooked. He wasn’t the type to read for pleasure, lacking the time for such a thing, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy a good story. 

If things had panned out differently in life, perhaps he would have had a library of his own in his home - a house with a nice garden, somewhere in Onyan’s outskirts, not busy but not entirely deserted. And maybe then he would have the time to read, finding an hour here and there in his day, his biggest source of stress being if the materials he ordered would arrive on time or if he jotted down the size for a dress correctly. 

Maybe there still was hope for that future. 

Maybe…

Jeno grew to like the protagonist - a young woman, headstrong and independent, albeit naive and clueless at times. She was tricked by a crook to leave her home, only to later realise how big of a mistake she made. The rest of the plot followed her trying to get back home, meeting a colourful cast of characters along the way. 

Definitely intriguing. 

A certified page turner. 

Unfortunately, Jeno wasn’t a fast enough reader for it. 

Unbeknownst to him, Jaemin had stirred awake somewhere amidst Jeno’s reading hyperfocus, tuned out to the entire world. It took the Prince sitting up next to him, leaning over Jeno’s shoulder to see where he was up to in the book, humming to himself, for Jeno to actually notice that Jaemin was no longer sound asleep. Startled, Jeno whipped his head around, finding that their faces were far too close like that. 

Jaemin didn’t seem to mind, raising his eyebrows and directing his gaze back down to the page. “You’re just getting to the best part,” he declared, voice roughened up with sleep. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

Jeno didn’t continue reading, instead slipping the fabric bookmark bound to the spine between the pages for later. If there would be a later. 

“Did you sleep well?” Jeno asked, carefully placing the book down.

“Like a baby,” the Prince replied, stretching his arms out above his head, a yawn slipping past his lips. “I must have been out long,” he mused, using the pages before the bookmark as an indicator of the time passed. “But it’s nice. I can return the favour if you want.”

“Pardon?”

Jaemin leaned forward, bringing his index finger up to Jeno’s face, just about brushing the tender skin under his eyes. “Don’t think I didn’t notice,” he pointed at the discolouration, probably even worse now than it had been in the morning, the lack of sleep catching up to him. “You didn’t sleep either, did you?”

“I was dealing with a rather pesky bird in my room,” Jeno explained. He then corrected himself with “ birds. Plural. All swallows though.”

Jaemin didn’t say anything, but his sincerity came across nevertheless, expression softening. His eyes especially filled with a tender warmth - something so palpable that Jeno thought he was being swallowed up whole in an embrace, the gratitude so strong it squeezed the air out of his lungs. 

“Could be worse,” Jaemin mused, voice light and airy, barely noticeable. “It could be vultures.”

Jeno chuckled. “It could be vultures,” he echoed.

“But I meant it: you can take a nap too. I won't do anything weird whilst you're asleep.”

“The mere fact you say that fills me with nothing but dread.”

“You're so dramatic,” Jaemin dismissed with a wave of the hand and a roll of the eyes. “What's the worst I could do anyway?”

Jeno could think of a few things. All things he has done before to people asleep. After all, he hated when they fought back. At least in their sleep, it was easier - offering some semblance of comfort. 

But he didn't say any of that. Instead, he uncrossed his legs and slowly leaned back all whilst maintaining eye contact with Jaemin, waiting to see if the Prince would say or do anything else. But when Jaemin left him be, Jeno decided he could unwind even if just for a short nap. 

“Just don't run off,” Jeno said. “Or just don't wander too far; I feel more at ease knowing where you are at all times.”

“Do you worry about me?” Jaemin teased, leaning over Jeno enough to shield his eyes from the blaring sun. 

“I worry about everyone else's wellbeing,” Jeno quipped. “I fear what you'd get up to all alone.”

“ Sure , because I'm just that reckless. Now sleep well. And if you snore I will tease you for it.”

“I assure you, I don't snore.”

“We'll see about that, won't we?”

Jeno didn't argue further. He shut his eyes and let the warmth of the sun blanket him, keeping him comfortable as he began to doze off. He thought of home - one which could be his soon - and a large plot of land, the soil fertile and sprouting crops and vibrant flowers. He thought of a studio that could be his, following in his mother's footsteps, creating pieces she would be proud of. 

And he thought of the presence next to him, body warm and firm. He thought of the laughter that came and went like thunder cracking in the turbulent skies: present for a split second, but its impact lingering, permeating and rumbling deep in Jeno’s bones. He thought of his smile and the turbulent nature of it, a cacophony of juxtaposing emotions swirling behind his eyes.

And as he finally fell asleep, Jeno pictured the look written across Jaemin's face, teary eyed and tender right before he wrapped his arms around Jeno. His heart ached, keeping the embrace frozen in time.

♤♡◇♧

When Jeno woke up, Jaemin was laid out next to him. He looked up to the skies, tracing the outline of leisurely clouds drifting by as well as observing the birds which flew overhead. 

Jeno must have been knocked out cold because it took him a while to recover from what was only meant to be a nap but what turned into deep sleep, limbs aching just right. He hadn't slept that well in a while.

“Well, you didn't snore,” Jaemin said as he noticed Jeno stirring.

Sluggish, Jeno pulled himself up, scoping his surroundings to see if anything gave away just how long he had been out. The sky was still light, albeit with a few more clouds popping up, and Jeno clearly didn’t sleep through half the day. It probably wasn’t even anywhere near close to dinner. Though lunch was rather likely. 

“I apologise, I seem to have taken more than a nap.”

“Happens to the best of us,” Jaemin mused, still laid down, not wanting to get up just yet. 

But they did have to move sooner than later. Though reluctant to go, Jaemin’s stomach did rumble after not finishing his breakfast this morning. And as such, Jeno hauled himself up first, suggesting for Jaemin to stay for some time longer as he arranged his meal. Jaemin didn’t argue, staying as he was, soaking up all of the sun, eyes closed, long lashes fanning across his cheeks. He looked at peace like that, spreading his limbs out, palms up.

Feeling charitable, Jeno had the Prince’s lunch brought outside and set out in the gazebo surrounded by an impressive arrangement of flowers in full bloom. Jaemin was more than elated by that, gladly making his way over there to enjoy a meal in the comfort and protection offered by the structure. 

Not wanting to disturb him, especially now that Jaemin seemed in a far better mood, Jeno stepped aside, watching on from the sidelines as the younger man relaxed. An empty plate pushed away, Jaemin propped his chin up on his elbow, gaze taking in the exquisite beauty of his surroundings. Sunshine pouring down through the gaps in leaves, a gentle wind caressing his skin, lightly tousling his hair, Jaemin was quite a sight in and of himself. 

Like this, Jeno thought he resembled a painting - bright and elegant, dripping with a loud, unknown mix of emotion, romantic in his contemplation. It was a scene which he thought worthy of being captured and frozen in time, meant to be hung up on the palace walls for all to see whilst simultaneously far too beautiful and tender to share.

Slowly, Jaemin’s eyes found themselves back on Jeno, holding their place with intent. 

No matter how hard he tried to ignore it, he simply couldn’t, crushed by the weight of Jaemin’s attention. It was suffocating in nature, yet Jeno didn’t run away, instead paralysed by it. 

Jaemin waited for something which never came, and soon enough, the moment was gone. 

“I think I’ll stay here for a while,” the Prince announced a while later, finding solace within the gazebo. “Do you think that’s alright?”

“I don’t see an issue with that,” Jeno assured. “Should I leave?”

Surprisingly, Jaemin hesitated. His lips parted as if he were to speak, but he promptly pressed them back together in a thin line, his eyes falling down to his lap. 

Jeno walked closer towards the gazebo, going up the few steps to the elevated platform, stopping right before the last one. “I’ll clear the table for you,” he suggested, not moving, instead waiting for Jaemin to answer his previous question. “I could also arrange for dessert to be brought if you wish.”

Jaemin considered it, but finally came to a decision.  

“Could you stay a while?” Jaemin asked. If he wanted to, he could just order Jeno to do whatever he wanted, yet here he was, lacking the confidence to do so. “Just for a while,” he added, biting on the inside of his cheek. 

“Of course,” Jeno replied, unaware of how unwilling he was to leave in the first place. Before he could move, either forward or backwards, Jaemin gestured to the seat in front of him - a small act, but one which Jeno found endearing in how it edged on awkward. Unsure. Something new to Jaemin.

“Take a seat.” It sounded like an order even if it wasn’t meant to be one. Noticing that, Jaemin cringed, shaking his head at himself.

Amused, Jeno pulled the seat out for himself, now sitting face to face with the Prince. Jeno wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but he had a feeling that this wasn't a typical procedure for people of their stature. Something told him that Junmyeon and the Regent didn’t do this even if this was just sharing a table.

For a while, neither of them said anything. The silence was appreciated, giving Jeno more time to unwind even now after what was basically a full day of lazing around. This wasn’t exactly something he could do back home, so to think he was technically being paid for this definitely made him make the most of it. Who knew being a royal retainer could be so easy? If he knew from the start, he might have tried his luck earlier under less nefarious, unpleasant circumstances. 

Circumstances which he couldn’t ignore.

As soon as he thought of home, he was reminded of why he was here in the first place. And right now, as he sat with Jaemin right in front of him, allowing Jeno into his own little bubble of space, all Jeno could picture was how he’d look in his final moments. 

Jeno didn’t like killing; he hated it, never meant for it in the first place. Yet still, it was what kept him alive so he allowed blood to stain his hands. If this is what Johnny sent him to do, then he would uphold his end of the contract. But when the time came, Jeno thought it would only be fair to be kind - as kind as he could be snuffing the life out of someone Jeno wasn’t sure he could fully justify killing. 

Jaemin’s only crime, it seemed, was being born the Prince. 

He wasn’t astonishingly bright, but neither was Jeno. How many previous Kings and Queens were gifted to rule? How many of them knew exactly what they were doing? Maybe if Jaemin was given the chance he could make a decent King - though he would definitely need an actual retainer and advisor because Jeno was not suited for anything more than playing the part of an over glorified nanny. 

If Jaemin had been more like some of Jeno’s prior targets - other murderers, hardened criminals, crooks and cheats, human traffickers, corrupt politicians - then maybe it would have been easier. Instead, Jaemin was closer to the long list of people that died over petty conflicts and because having them dead would be more convenient and beneficial. 

He was just caught in the crossfire.

But nevertheless, someone wanted Jaemin dead. And that someone paid the right price for Johnny to accept the job, passing the hard part to Jeno to shoulder. 

He would still kill him when the time came, though in a way he hoped wouldn’t cause Jaemin prolonged pain. In the end, he thought Jaemin was tolerable. 

More than that, really.

“Thank you,” Jaemin said apropos to nothing, startling Jeno who had dozed off somewhere along the way. He was looking at Jeno now, lips in a slanted smile, warm brown eyes lacking the predatory sharpness behind them. “For today in particular. Everything you… Thank you.”

“Even the Prince deserves a nice day out,” Jeno explained, the words forming around the uncomfortable lump in his throat. 

Jaemin smiled at that, fidgeting with his fingernails. They were kept clean and trimmed, yet he still picked at the nail folds, only irritating the skin in the process. Not that he seemed to care.

It took him another minute before he did anything else, this time reaching for his pocket to pull out the handkerchief that brought all of this about. Jeno wasn’t expecting to see it and honestly a part of him felt bashful about the whole thing, the realisation of how hard he worked on fixing it hitting him like an avalanche. 

“It belonged to my mother,” Jaemin explained, running his thumb across the intricately sewn design of his handkerchief, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “It’s one of the few things I have left of her. A memento.”

“Oh,” Jeno uttered, feeling the weight behind Jaemin’s confession. It was unexpected, catching him off-guard and uncertain of how to react. The last thing he thought would happen was for Jaemin to open up to him right now. Yet that seemed to be exactly what was occurring. 

So it really wasn’t just any other handkerchief. 

It meant something more to him. 

“There’s really not much left,” the Prince continued, the stretch of his lips dipping into a momentary sadness. “You must have noticed by now, right? How there’s no paintings of her around - of any of us.”

Jeno had done enough trips around the palace by this point to know what paintings lined the walls on every floor and wing. There was a lot of miscellaneous historic art - pieces showcasing every stage of Taesan’s life, from birth to its current glory. There were scenic landscapes, large canvases with more people than Jeno could count, as well as portraits. 

But oddly enough, Jeno couldn’t think of one that contained Jaemin and his parents. 

“My uncle thinks it’s a bad omen to have paintings of the dead hung up,” Jaemin stated. “Funny when you consider how many dead people line the walls of his own office. But alas, there are no portraits of my parents - let alone of me, though I can live without seeing my own face everywhere I go. But my parents… He took down all there was. I don’t even know what my own father looks like,” he admitted, a complicated smile on his lips. “He died when I was barely an infant and I have no image of him in my mind other than the vague memory of a portrait that used to hang in the corridor leading towards the grand dining hall. But it’s not there anymore; my uncle replaced it with an ugly tapestry.”

The emotions spilling out of Jaemin were overwhelming, a debilitating concoction of anger, sadness, vitriol and even more grief. Jeno could only listen, paralysed by it.

Jeno had walked past the tapestry in question, the map sewn into it archaic, back when Taesan and Onyan were one nation with no borders between them. To think what used to hang there was a portrait.

“And my mother…” Jaemin paused, licking his lips, a shake to his eyes. “His own sister. It was as if… as if he couldn’t bear to look at her. He was waiting for her to die - you could feel it back then, the way he just eagerly awaited the moment just so that he could tear down any sign of her there was scattered around the place. Her favourite flowers? Torn out and replaced with hedges. Her favourite books? Half were given out for charitable causes - libraries and schools that he cut funding to soon after - whilst the other were disposed of like trash, called cheap nonsense and childish fairy tales. Her clothes? Torn to scraps for materials. And it was… He did it with such an act of care and benevolence that nobody even thought to question it. That’s how much he despised her.”

Jaemin clutched the handkerchief in his hold, sucking in his lips to reel in his own bubbling emotions. He swallowed, taking in a deep breath afterwards, steadying himself. 

“So this is one of the last things I have left of her. Na Suhye, reduced to a few books, some jewellery, the one picture of her I could keep, and an old handkerchief. Quite the legacy, isn’t it?” He spoke with bitterness intertwined with a heartache Jeno couldn’t begin to comprehend, but one which he could understand.

After all, the last sign that his own mother ever even existed was Jeno himself. It shouldn’t be like that. 

“And I know it’s stupid. I know, alright? But I feel like… I feel like, whenever I have this with me, it’s like my mother is by my side as well. It’s… It makes it easier to deal with everything. With my uncle, and with all the court officials that couldn’t care any less about me,” Jaemin admitted, trailing the threads of the swallow like his life depended on it, using it as an anchor after laying himself bare like this in front of Jeno. “I feel pathetic half the time - like a child. And maybe I am. But at least with this… At least I can pretend I’m not. So thank you. It really does mean a lot.”

Jeno exhaled, shaky as the air around them felt fragile.

There Jaemin was, thanking Jeno without realising that in a few month’s time, none of this would matter.

But it mattered now.

And maybe, at the end of the road, it would also matter then.

“It’s nothing,” Jeno assured, offering a smile to the Prince. “I’m glad I could help.”

Chapter Text

There were repercussions in the form of a firm scolding from the Regent, delivered via his proxy, more commonly known as Junmyeon. But even then, Junmyeon didn’t find any joy in doing so, trusting Jeno and his judgement even if it went against what was the norm right until he showed up. 

“I know you mean well,” Junmyeon stated. “But the Regent has his ways of doing things. He believes that the Prince is still nowhere close to taking on the burden of a King. Hence all the lessons and structure. It’s for the best.”

“I understand.”

Yet even hearing that response, Junmyeon seemed apologetic. Uncertain perhaps of just how much was too much. “And whilst I do agree that the Prince can do with some further schooling, I also know that he is a bright young man, and that perhaps he doesn’t need to be treated as if he were completely incompetent at what he does. And I also know that he could do with a friend. Which is why I’m glad he has you.”

“A friend?”

“You are the closest thing to one he has,” the older retainer pointed out. “I think he’s happy to have you around. So I… I would encourage you to perhaps not be so obvious about skipping classes and dozing off in the gardens,” he added with a smile - a little secret on their end. 

It was strange, but Jeno had nothing to say to it.

A friend. 

As if.

Jaemin was to return to his usual programming, and thankfully he didn’t have any complaints. Well, he did, but those were the typical whining and groaning about how tedious all of them were - nothing that Jeno wasn’t used to or expecting by now. 

And so, things were back to normal.

At least in theory.

In practice, however, Jeno wasn't so sure everything was normal. To the untrained eye, nothing had changed, but to Jeno who had by now probably spent more time alone with the Prince than anyone else in the palace, there definitely was something peculiar about him. Nothing bad, but something which Jeno simply couldn't put a name to.

After having his handkerchief returned to him, Jaemin was definitely brighter and back to his typical self. Upbeat, confusing, but all around manageable and at times even pleasant to be around. 

His long recitals of books continued, switching between languages just for the fun of catching Jeno by surprise, keeping him on edge as he couldn't hear the rest of whatever text Jaenin was spitting out from memory, lines upon lines drilled into him to the point he could probably utter them in his sleep. He also was back to teasing Jeno in other ways, mainly in the mornings and when it was time to get dressed, playing his typical game of cat and mouse with his retainer.

In all the aspects he could think of, Jaemin was back to himself. 

The things that had changed, however, were trivial. Small and insignificant, but strikingly apparent to Jeno. 

Such as the way Jaemin addressed Jeno, stripping back the layer that distinguished the professional relationship between them. 

Despite his laid back attitude, Jaemin did still talk to Jeno like a servant, even if he gave Jeno more leeway in terms of how he could talk back to him, dropping the honorifics but still maintaining some semblance of respect and status. He would speak casually to Jeno, and he still did, albeit with a peculiarity to it which Jeno found rather puzzling. 

Instead of “bring me this” it was “could you bring me this”. Instead of “you're dismissed” it was now “you can go if you want”. The usual “what's on my schedule” shifted to include Jeno, going from “my” to “our”.  

Our day. Our plans. We. Us. 

Still casual and unbefitting for a Prince and a mere servant, but even more familiar now. It was as if somewhere along the way, Jeno had been integrated into Jaemin’s life to such an extent that he had become deserving of more than a distant address - an owner calling his dog. If he had to say exactly what it felt like, then he'd compare it to being… friends?

Well, more like acquaintances. 

They weren't friends because that would be ridiculous. But at this point, they were more than employer and employee, teetering on the line of professionalism and familiarity. 

Jeno supposed that it made sense given how Jaemin opened up to him back at the gazebo, admitting to Jeno a secret nobody else could ever know. He was weak and childish, held together with the last remaining fragments of his mother, the pieces acting as the support he couldn't find elsewhere, giving him enough courage to fake confidence when in reality he lacked it. 

It was an insight into Jaemin’s psyche that only he was privy to. That alone meant he was on a completely different level to anyone else in the palace, and perhaps that was why Jaemin decided to treat him differently.

He sought out responses from Jeno, turning their typical exchange of one or two sentences into something closer akin to a conversation - not that Jeno had much to say, but Jaemin still appreciated the engagement. 

Oddly enough, Jaemin also let Jeno see things he wouldn't have otherwise.

During his typical rummaging through the accounts time, Jaemin beckoned Jeno over to ponder over the line by line report of palace spending. Seeing this, Jeno’s eyes widened, all the numbers swirling around the pages. There was just too much to focus on and Jeno was by no means a trained accountant.

Nevertheless, he asked “is there anything I can help you with?” 

Jaemin responded by pulling out the report for the previous month, laying it down side by side. Hands on his hips, he looked to Jeno, expectant. “Does anything look off to you?”

The urge to reply with “I'm not an accountant, so no” was quite strong, but unfortunately he still had to maintain appearances. A retainer would have at least some knowledge of finances if they were to assist in palace admin.

So Jeno pondered over the numbers, trying to make sense of them to the best of his abilities. Easier said than done. 

But as he cross checked between the two month reports, he did notice something peculiar. 

“There's a significant increase in expenditure,” Jeno mused, flicking between the two values. 

Jaemin clicked his tongue, satisfied by Jeno’s response but nevertheless troubled by it. “It fluctuates. It's been going on for months.”

“Perhaps it's in preparation for your coronation?”

The Prince sighed, closing the books. “Perhaps.”

There was an air of unease to him, waiting for something to happen. Yet it never did. Whatever he saw within the numbers sprawled out across the accounts were an omen - good or bad - which he couldn't decipher, mulling over them time and time again. Maybe there was something there, but he couldn't tell and neither could Jeno. 

They called it a day there, departing soon after with Jaemin taking the lead. As Jeno made sure everything was left in an acceptable manner, Jaemin waited for him, letting out an exasperated sigh as he kept the door propped open for Jeno.

“I can't believe I'm doing your job,” Jaemin said with a tone of fake offence. 

“Maybe if you weren't so eager to get ahead of me I would be the one holding the doors for you.”

“It's not my fault you're just so slow.”

Jeno didn't even bother hiding his eye roll, met with a faint chuckle from Jaemin.

“Of course, I apologise, your Highness.”

“Just get a move on! I want some fresh air already.”

Ever the bossy princeling.

♤♡◇♧

Back on track, Jaemin had yet another art lesson. 

Despite very much struggling with it, Jaemin ranked it within his top five compulsory methods of torture (aka his princely schedules). Literature, music, horse riding - even if that wasn’t technically a lesson - foreign languages and art were the things he could do without actively looking like he wanted to throw himself out of a window. And now, ever since he found out about Jeno’s own artistic abilities, he seemed even more enthusiastic about the subject. 

Maybe it was a desire to get better than Jeno, or to simply show him that he was capable of improving, Jaemin now started taking art very seriously. So now, instead of using the time to simply mess around with a bunch of nice paints, pencils and other tools that Jeno would personally love to have a go using, Jaemin actually took his teacher’s advice to heart.

Did that mean he was suddenly much better than before? No. But he definitely showed signs of mild improvement. Nothing revolutionary, but rather charming nevertheless. 

He would also occasionally glance to where Jeno was, his eyes searching for his reaction to what he was doing - seeking for his approval. Jeno could offer that, seeing just how much the Prince was trying. After all, it was the effort that mattered the most. 

For this session, Jaemin’s art teacher had brought out a fruit bowl for Jaemin to draw, arranging the various fruits around. She was encouraging him to think about the composition - the lighting and importance of each component. The young man understood well enough, doing his best given his current skill level. Nevertheless, what he managed to muster up wasn’t exactly what was sitting right in front of him. 

Standing in the back, Jeno observed Jaemin doing his best at sketching the fruit bowl in front of him. He hesitated with his strokes, overly cautious about getting everything exact only to end up skewing his proportions in the process. 

Jeno tilted his head to the side, expression scrunched. Jaemin’s rendition of a pear left a lot to be desired, and the shape was… well, it was something. The question was if it was intentional or not. Given how oblivious Jaemin was and how in the moment he seemed to be, Jeno would bet that he didn’t even realise the oddly phallic shape the pear had taken. The teacher didn’t mention it so Jeno wasn’t about to either. 

When the teacher came to check on Jaemin’s artwork, she offered a pleased sounding hum, nodding in acknowledgment. “Much better,” she commented before offering a few more tips to the Prince. “Maybe you will surprise everyone by the time of your coronation, your Highness.”

“That might be taking it too far,” Jaemin replied, lighthearted. “Though, I’d like to think I’d be on par with a… let’s say a twelve year old.”

“It’s good to be ambitious,” the woman replied with a polite smile. 

They went through a few more quips and recommendations before the allotted time slot came to an end. The art teacher was done for the day, being one of the few teachers who did not live within the palace walls. As such, she packed her things and left. But despite that, Jaemin didn’t look like he wanted to go just yet - not that he really was in much of a rush given how he had nothing else planned until dinner, free to unwind and take in the sun if he wanted to venture outside. 

Jeno might have taken it upon himself to shuffle Jaemin’s schedule around to give him even more time, even if that meant the frequency of his lessons dropped a noticeable amount. Noticeable, but not enough for the Regent to catch on. For someone who seemed to care a lot about Jaemin being disciplined, he failed to notice just how free he seemed as of late - but perhaps that was due to the fact they avoided frolicking around outside the Regent’s office window. Much harder to get caught like that by a man who seemed to live in one room in the entire palace.

And now, Jaemin had far more breathing room. 

Besides, Jeno thought for a man his age, Jaemin didn’t need so much constant supervision and educational drilling. After all, from what Jeno observed, at this point it was as if Jaemin was reciting things he had learned a long time ago. Maybe his language and politics lessons were still required - and literature since he did revel in reading and discovering new texts - but the rest seemed redundant by now. 

Oh and definitely archery. There could never be enough archery lessons it seemed. Though, Jeno still thought there was something extremely odd about those even if he couldn’t really pin-point what it was that made him think that. Jaemin’s posture was still so puzzling to him.

Jaemin still kept his things out, his index finger pressed against his lips as he looked down on what he managed to accomplish today. “What do you think?” He asked, looking over his shoulder for Jeno’s comments.

Jeno hummed, taking a few steps closer to get a better look. “Not bad,” he mused. “Although…” Jeno pointed at the odd pear shape, cocking his eyebrow at the Prince. “This could definitely be worked on.”

“I know what it looks like, but I swear it was an accident.”

“So you are self-aware.”

Jaemin snorted, directing his attention back to the drawing. “But other than that, is it passable?”

“I can tell what each of the fruits are, so I think that’s a good sign,” Jeno replied. “But let’s not get too ahead of ourselves; a horse and a fruit are two very different things.”

“You don’t say?” Jaemin met Jeno with a playful smile - on which Jeno found impossible to not reciprocate. “I actually wanted to go on for longer, but I suppose even my teachers have lives outside of me. Who would have thought that the world doesn’t revolve around me?”

“Who would have thought indeed, your Highness,” Jeno echoed in a softer, amused tone. His finger hovered above the drawing, tracing the lines, contemplative. “You do have the basics down, if that is of any comfort to you,” he stated. “And you clearly know what you are trying to do, even if your execution still leaves quite a lot to be desired. But that’s not something that can’t be improved.”

“You know a lot, don’t you?” Jaemin asked, head tilted to the side.

Somewhat flustered, Jeno shook his head. “Not really.”

“But you’re good at art - and don’t say you’re not because I’ve seen the proof!”

Jeno exhaled. “It’s a pleasant past-time, though I am no expert.”

“I don’t really need an expert,” Jaemin mused.

“Pardon?”

Instead of a verbal response, Jaemin turned his attention to the large sheet of paper to slot onto the easel as well as the pencils, charcoal sticks, and brushes. “Think of this as parallel play,” he said, confusing Jeno even further. “When I was a child and my mother had her visits with Earl Xiao, I would be left with Dejun. He was awkward at times, so instead of actually playing, we’d just sit together in the same room and do our own thing. I think his nanny referred to it as parallel play back then,” he explained, preparing one of the two easels, clipping a sheet of paper onto it.

“Alright, but what does this have to do with anything?”

“Everything,” Jaemin replied. “Because we are about to partake in parallel play - except instead of being literal children, we are both grown adults.”

“Debetable.”

“I think you’re fairly mature,” Jaemin responded with a smirk. As always, quick to respond in jest. At least he was in a good mood. A very good mood judging by how enthusiastic he was being about the whole thing. “Anyway, let’s continue where we left off.”

“The fruit bowl?”

Jaemin paused, pursing his lips in thought. “No. That’s boring. How about I draw you, and you draw me?”

“You wish to jump from fruit - which won’t move, mind you - to drawing me?” Jeno questioned. “Have you ever even drawn a portrait?”

“I’m not a toddler,” Jaemin replied. “I’ve drawn plenty of faces in my short life. Were they all wonderful? No. But I understand the basics. That’s good enough, isn’t it?”

“I think you should stick to the true basics for now.”

“No fun,” the Prince whined, returning to the table where all the paper was. “And anyway, I think this is actually a very good idea,” Jaemin said, grabbing a large pad of paper and a pencil, handing it over to Jeno. “What better way for me to improve than with some extra practice?”

Sceptical, Jeno looked at the paper Jaemin had just forced in his hand. Jaemin was set on having it his way, so there really was no use in stopping him now. “I agree that practice is good, but why must I also be involved?”

“For one: parallel play. And two: the more the merrier! Besides, you're my retainer so you really have no say in this.”

Jeno exhaled. “Yes, your Highness,” he uttered, met with a heart guffaw from Jaemin, his mean streak coming through. Not that Jeno minded it. If anything, Jeno thought it suited him - the expression of joy, no matter the underlying teasing from him. 

“Cheer up, would you? You like art, don’t you? Treat this as some time to hone your own craft and enjoy some more free time with me. I mean, what else would you be doing now?”

“Chenle wanted some help at the stables,” Jeno uttered. 

“Well we can go later. You get to enjoy doing some chores and I can visit my princess Luna. It’s a true win-win scenario.”

Amused by the Prince’s rationale, Jeno had no other choice but to accept his fate. It wasn’t all that bad after all. 

So he accepted the pad of paper and prepared his own easel, adjusting it to his height.

“And no funny business,” Jaemin said, mildly threatening, from opposite Jeno. He raised his pencil up in the air as he spoke. “I’ll be trying my best to draw you, so do the same if you are a man of honour.”

Jeno wasn’t, but he would entertain Jaemin this time around. “Of course,” he replied. “And I’ll try to stay as still as possible for you, your Highness.”

Jaemin rolled his eyes. 

Nevertheless, the two organised their things and got started. 

Jeno didn’t think much about what to do or where to start, grabbing his pencil to make a rough sketch of Jaemin’s head and shoulders. After seeing the younger man every day for the past… month? Two? Jeno really lost track of time, hadn’t he? But that's besides the point. Jeno had seen Jaemin every day for so long that he didn’t need to keep looking up at him time and time again, instead having his visage engraved in his head for better or for worse. 

Still, he checked his progress against the real thing, satisfied with his progress. 

Jaemin had distinct features, sharp and handsome in a way he fully believed hadn’t been seen before. Every painting he had seen before containing a monarch or aristocrat seemed to lack the raw beauty which Jaemin possessed, his face sculpted with utmost care and love. And the longer he observed him, the more Jeno worried that nobody would ever be capable of capturing the sheer beauty of him - from the cut of his jaw, the smooth slope of his nose, his large doe eyes and the cacophony of emotions swirling behind them at any given time, a pair of soft, plush lips, the set of his expressive brows and the graceful fall of his onyx hair. 

It seemed impossible to truly translate the real thing onto a canvas.

And, soon enough, all that would be left would be nothing more than a portrait of a moment frozen in time, incapable of showcasing just how much of a personality Jaemin was. Just how much life was brimming inside of him.

Jeno’s hand faltered, hesitating on where the pencil pressed into the paper. He felt a wave of nausea wash over him, an unsettling emotion bubbling in the pit of his stomach, spreading out with a numbing intensity. It kept him still, weak to move in the slightest. 

He swallowed thickly, a putrid taste in his mouth. 

Jeno glanced up from his drawing to find Jaemin's brow furrowed in concentration, his tongue peeking out between the cushion of his pink lips. He was engrossed in the task at hand, taking it seriously with a self-imposed sense of urgency. It looked like he was in his own world, finding some sort of peace in the process of capturing the moment.

But Jeno felt the opposite of peace. Chaos and turmoil, all swirling around in his gut, paralysing him. 

Yet he couldn’t do anything about it. Johnny sent him here, and Jeno would follow through, his loyalty to the older man unwavering. Though still, he couldn’t help but wonder if all of this was necessary. Was Jaemin’s death really needed?

Amidst all the internal turmoil, Jaemin looked up and caught his eyes. Initially confused, his eyes widened with a playful jest, mouthing a “what” to Jeno who seemed frozen in place. With that, Jeno snapped himself out of his head, ignoring the unpleasant churn in his stomach as he shook his head, offering a thin smile in return only for Jaemin to scrunch his brows, not quite satisfied with that response. 

Jeno didn’t want to make a thing out of it, and hence he looked back to his sketch as if nothing was the matter, encouraging Jaemin to do the same. 

They continued in silence, nothing but the steady scratching sound of pencils against paper filling the spacious room. 

“Alright, I think I’m done,” Jaemin declared. He placed his hands on his hips, taking a step back to observe his craftsmanship. “It’s not that bad. What about you? Are you done?”

Jeno glanced at his own work, fussing over the details. It was good enough. “Yes.”

“Wonderful! Let’s share, shall we? I’ll go first,” Jaemin declared, grabbing onto the easel to lift it up, turning it to face Jeno. He revealed the drawing to Jeno, a proud look written across his face - not a smug, look at how amazing I am, kind but more so the type you’d see on a young child showing off to relatives. Endearing, harmless, sweet. “Thoughts?”

Jaemin’s sketch was… Well, it was rough. However, Jeno had to give it to the Prince, but it actually resembled Jeno in some aspects. The proportions were skewed here and there, and the perspective was questionable, but it was Jeno - no matter how wonky. The mole under his eye probably pulled it all together.

“In my defense, you have a very difficult face to capture,” Jaemin explained. “That’s a compliment, by the way.”

“Thank you,” Jeno replied with a chuckle. “And if I may: it’s quite good.”

“I have been practicing.”

“I can tell.”

Satisfied with the verdict, Jaemin was now more than eager to see what Jeno had whisked up. He left his spot to walk towards Jeno. Instead of a grand reveal, he simply moved to stand next to Jeno to look at his work. 

Jeno felt the shift in his mood instantly like the flame of a candle being put out - sudden and drastic, taking with it the soft, warm glow. His smile, bright and enthusiastic, fell at the sight and an expression of what Jeno could describe as concern and gloom. Lips softly parted, he could only take in Jeno’s sketch - a sketch Jeno didn’t ever realise until now was deserving of such a reaction. 

“Is that what I look like?” Jaemin asked, voice subdued from his earlier bubbly tone. 

Confused by the shift in atmosphere, Jeno looked at his own drawing without the previous honed-in, oblivious filter shrouding his eyes. He didn’t think he would have messed up with the actual art aspect, so he didn’t know what on earth would have made Jaemin react so strongly, but as he actually looked, he realised that the Jaemin he captured on canvas was not the Jaemin he had been looking at in the moment. 

Instead, it was the Jaemin which had imprinted himself in Jeno’s memory - a forlorn visage, present but not quite. His eyes, drowned with a heavy, bleak sobriety, staring out to nothing in particular. Lips caught in between a smile, wistful around the edges, and a blank, emotionless facade. 

It was the Jaemin that Jeno came to know initially, looking past the unpredictable moods and outbursts - the seesawing between bright and dull. This was the Jaemin whose emotions remained bottled up until he cracked in one grand, brief display of anger or grief. It was the Jaemin that shut himself off from the world, completely alone where he stood. The Jaemin whose voice trembled as he spoke of his mother, his anchor, no longer there by his side.

No mask to fool the world. 

“At times,” Jeno admitted, glancing up at Jaemin to see if perhaps he carried the same look right now. 

“At times,” Jaemin echoed.

That deeply nestled ache was there. A sadness which permeated and persisted. 

“Well, you definitely captured me well,” the Prince said, brushing over the tenderness of the moment - the raw vulnerability - as if it were nothing worth lingering on. “An artist through and through, aren't you?” He continued with a smile, the curve of which Jeno knew was forced. 

So many of his smiles were faked, but only now did Jeno realise that he had been wrong about the reason; it wasn't because Jaemin was a heartless, careless, cold individual, but because he was the opposite. And for reasons Jeno couldn't entirely begin to explain, Jaemin was incapable of showing his true colours, instead settling on the appearance of a brat - an incorrigible fool. 

A Prince that had lost his way. A youth whose light had been dimmed. A King never to be.

“For the next one, try to make me look less miserable, alright? I'd like to have a nice portrait of myself before I die, so take care with it.” The brief, pulled smile that met Jeno was enough to plunge him back into the torturous seas he had been in before, cold and filled with dread, stomach churning. “I can trust you with that, can't I?”

“Of course, your Highness.”

♤♡◇♧

Jeno was acting unlike himself.

He was doing things he shouldn't - for the sake of the job - be doing. And one such thing was spending so much time with Jaemin - not time used to learn all his secrets that could prove to be useful later on, but instead time spent doing nothing in particular. Just existing together.

Time out in the sun, acting as a shield for the Prince from the direct sunlight as he read a book aloud so that Jeno could enjoy it too. Joint rides on horseback and tending to the horses in the stables, brightening Chenle’s day whenever they stopped by (definitely not because the stable boy had a very obvious crush on the Prince). Art sessions spent in relative silence, either drawing each other or anything else in their vicinity.

Absolutely everything that Jeno had no use in doing.

If there was a line to be drawn to separate what was required for his job, then Jeno had crossed it without a shadow of a doubt. Gaining Jaemin’s trust was one thing, but this was taking it a step too far and even Jeno knew it. But even then, it felt right - like there wasn’t any other option even if there really was. 

All Jeno had to do was figure out if Jaemin had any means of retaliation on an assassination attempt, all whilst maintaining the act of a retainer that wasn’t even really a retainer. Jeno had long known that Jaemin had nobody on his side to form an alliance with, nor did he think anything was out of the ordinary. 

Whilst the Prince was paranoid, he also didn’t seem to fear death, no matter how close it may be to him. And so, all Jeno realistically had left to do was hold out until Jaemin’s coronation where he would carry out his objective, killing the Prince at the specified time and place. 

None of that required getting close to him. 

None of it was an excuse to stray so far from his initial task.

Yet it only felt right; if he was to snub Jaemin of his life, then he would do it gently. He would do it after ensuring the Prince at least had some joy in his last moments. 

A mercy kill.

So why was he getting so involved? Why not just cancel all his schedules and let him roam free? Why then did Jeno spend so much time by Jaemin’s side, indulging him in all his requests, tagging along even though he didn’t have to. He could say no, explain himself away as having tasks to carry out instead. 

But no: Jeno followed Jaemin without protest.

It now seemed like every waking moment was spent with Jaemin in one way or another. 

Even when not present, Jeno still found a way to make anything about the Prince, bringing him up in idle chatter with the other staff or, more concerningly, filling his sketchbook with the younger man’s figure and visage.

The pages were now occupied with glimpses of Jaemin from a myriad of different days, moments, moods. He caught him smiling, soft and genuine when in the stables, talking to Luna as if she could understand everything he said. That moment, just like countless others, was now encapsulated in the sketchbook he never intended on filling, now close to overflowing with Jaemin and Jaemin alone. 

Sometimes it was just his lips or eyes, so expressive yet secretive. At times, it was his entire silhouette - lean and slender, shoulders wide with a swift, tantalising curve of his hips. His hands too were a great point of interest to Jeno, catching himself staring now more often than he would like to admit, fascinated by the long, lithe digits and the bumps of his knuckles.

It was impossible to escape Jaemin now, sucked into his orbit no matter how hard Jeno tried to resist it. In the end, it was futile. 

Which is how Jeno found himself in Jaemin’s bedroom on a late evening, keeping the Prince company after he requested a pot of tea to be brought up to his room. Chamomile. 

He lounged comfortably on the couch, legs crossed and body spread out leisurely. The lacing keeping his shirt tied was undone at the collar to give him some breathing room, the air far too stuffy for him to remain in formal attire the whole day. Behind him the balcony door was left open, the occasional breeze rustling against the curtains. Other than the soft sound of the wind, the room was blanketed in a comfortable silence occasionally interrupted by the clank of Jaemin picking up his tea cup and putting it back down. 

Jeno had no reason to be here, yet Jaemin insisted, wanting the company. So much so that he had a second cup ready just for him, offering him a drink he couldn’t refuse. 

They sat close yet apart; Jaemin took the couch to himself, fond of it judging by the amount of times Jeno had witnessed him throw himself over it. Jeno sat on the adjacent sofa, feeling both as if he shouldn’t be doing this but also as if this was just right for them. 

“Retainer privileges,” Jaemin had called it previously. “Even Junmyeon gets spoiled sometimes, you know?”

Yet Jeno and Junmyeon weren’t the same; the latter was an actual retainer and trusted advisor to the Regent, rightfully earning himself the mutual respect. On the other hand, Jeno was a nanny - a not even good one at that - and arguably had no reason to be treated the way Jaemin treated him. But there he was, proven wrong. 

So he joined Jaemin, going through the pot of tea slowly in each other’s company. 

The Prince didn’t pass time reading like Jeno would have expected him to. Instead, he looked around his room, eyes falling on the small statues and the framed image of the late Queen, his own expression unreadable. It took a considerable amount of time before he finally said anything, and when he did speak, Jeno was left flabbergasted. 

“Are you scared of dying?” Jaemin asked, voice unsettlingly flat. 

Very unexpected to say the least, yet somehow still fitting for the Prince. 

Jeno didn’t know how to answer him. 

With how his life had been up to this point, Jeno was constantly aware that death could be just around the corner; one wrong move could leave him bleeding out and gasping for air, struggling to hold on. 

Though he was usually sent out to deal with unsuspecting victims - one’s which he could also lull into a false sense of security either with his innocent charms or by simply spreading his legs - there was always a risk involved. Just because most of his targets weren’t skilled in combat or unaware that they were being trailed didn’t mean that they couldn’t get the upper hand on him one way or another. One wrong move was all it took. 

As for being scared… Jeno wasn’t sure about that.

Was dread the same as fear? Was it the same as regret? 

Because there was still so much Jeno wanted to do in his life - so much that he hadn’t had the chance to do. He thought it unfair. Cruel. And he didn’t want to die. Not that he thought anyone wanted to, but Jeno wasn’t going to let go without putting up a fight. After all, he’s been fighting ever since his mother died, and fighting even harder since his father lost it all, his life included. 

Jeno detested the thought of death reaching him before he could be free, paying off his debt once and for all. 

So not quite scared, but definitely not accepting of it. 

When Jeno didn’t respond, his expression riddled with confusion, Jaemin exhaled softly, shaking his head. “I suppose you weren’t expecting that, were you?”

“I really wasn’t,” Jeno replied.

“That’s fair,” Jaemin mused. “I don’t think the average person really considers their mortality often.”

“But you’re not an average person, are you?”

Jaemin chuckled, nodding in agreement. “You learn that very early on in my position,” he explained. “Though even then, I never thought about it until my mother began to wither away. It was quite sudden and unprecedented,” Jaemin stated, his tone sombre. “She was fine until one day she just wasn’t. Fatigued and weak constantly until the point she became bedridden. At first we all thought it would pass, but it dragged out for far longer than anyone would have expected. And then… She described it as a fog. She struggled to speak and think, and she just withered. And she- she said she was fine, but I think she was scared the whole time.”

Jeno felt an ever growing pit in his stomach, uneasy the longer Jaemin spoke. 

The Prince had a certain way of capturing all attention, hooking his claws into Jeno so that he couldn’t look away, forced to witness him at his most raw when he knew that nobody else would ever be given permission for this. It pained Jeno because he shouldn’t be the one to bear this - he shouldn’t be the one made to listen, trusted by a man he had no relation with and one which he was meant to kill. 

It felt wrong, hence the sickening churn in his stomach, a reaction no different to when he had to spill blood for the first time. Both were just as gruesome.

“Ever since then I’ve thought about it constantly - dying, that is,” Jaemin continued. “I don’t think I’m scared of it; fear comes from uncertainty, and I’m sure that death is closer than ever now, so that- that aspect doesn’t frighten me, I think. I think that I would greet death with a smile, or at least without restraint. I think… I think death can be kind. But I’m not ready.”

“I would be more surprised if you were,” Jeno interjected, causing Jaemin to smile. “And I don’t mean to come off as rude, but why are you telling me all of this?”

At that, Jaemin’s expression unexpectedly softened, his cheeks dusted with a faint, bashful pink. He looked away from Jeno, fixated on his lap for a few seconds, giving Jeno nothing to work off. But then he finally decided to break the sudden silence, his gaze still averted. 

“Can I say something?”

“Since when do you ask permission before speaking?”

Jaemin huffed, amused by Jeno’s pointed yet playful response. “I’m being serious.”

“And so am I,” Jeno assured. “I’m all ears.”

“Alright… But you have to promise you won’t laugh.”

Intrigued, Jeno cocked his eyebrows.

“I am being extremely serious now.”

“Alright, alright. I won’t laugh. I promise.”

“Okay,” Jaemin uttered, letting out a shaky exhale. “I… I hope you’re fine with this but I consider you a friend,” he admitted. “The first friend I’ve ever had, actually. That’s why I’m telling you all of this.”

“Oh…” 

Now Jeno didn’t know what to say. How to react. Because what was there that he could realistically say in this situation? How was he even meant to feel? A part of him felt… Well, he felt oddly warm. A pleasant tingle which spread from his chest outwards to his fingertips, followed by a sickly chill which plagued Jeno for quite some time now, always present from the moment he started to see Jaemin as less of a target and more of a person. 

In Jaemin, he saw more than just a man he was meant to kill, even if that was a dangerous thing to even consider. And just as Jaemin had said, maybe Jeno considered him somewhat of a friend too - his own first friend. Because Jeno had been alone for a long time now, relying solely on himself and Johnny, the lines between employer and family blurring far too often. 

Jaemin was the same age as him. He was just as lost and confused, stuck in a prison of someone else’s making. He was unpredictable and loud and then quiet, sometimes obnoxious and sometimes quite charming; he could play the part of the bratty, snob royalty Jeno expected from him, and he could also prove Jeno wrong with a simple look in his eyes that showed that he cared and tried despite everything. 

“Oh,” the Prince echoed, the noise airy and bordering on hurt. “Is that all you can say? The Na Jaemin, Prince of Taesan considers you his friend and all you can say is oh?” He continued, covering up the anxious shake of his voice with a dramatic flare, hand on his chest, playful and unserious despite the clear evidence on the contrary. He clicked his tongue and looked away in hopes of hiding the emotions swirling behind his eyes at the display of vulnerability. 

“I just wasn’t expecting that,” Jeno assured, queasy as his stomach churned at the thought of Jaemin taking his response the wrong way. He shouldn’t have cared, yet he did. Something dangerous and irresponsible - something that should be snipped at the bud before any further feelings could fester and bloom.

Something which he was incapable of doing.

“That’s all,” Jeno said. 

Snip it in the bud.

Cut it right off.

Building trust was good, but only when the only one being played was the target. 

He had to do something about the fact that he cared about what Jaemin thought of him. 

“But I- I am touched that you feel comfortable around me, however I must remind you that at the end of the day I am simply your employee-”

“You’re not,” Jaemin interrupted. 

Jeno came to a stop, jaw clenched, swallowing around nothing. 

“My uncle hired you, yes,” the Prince elaborated. “But you don’t seem to care all that much about that, do you? See, I initially thought you were quite the suck up - as most royal court adjacent individuals tend to be - but you let that act drop relatively quickly. Which is why I like you. I can tell when you’re actively annoyed by me when any other palace staff would just smile in my face. You just feel… human,” he concluded with a wistful exhale, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards in a miniscule smile. 

And how was Jeno supposed to react to that?

The seed had nestled itself deep within his heart by now, taking root. The longer he waited, the more painful it would be to tear out. He had to tear it out.

Just tell Jaemin he felt nothing. Reject his kindness outright. Stomp the spark of companionship out now before it turns into a roaring fire. Anything. 

For his own sake. Hurting Jaemin now wouldn’t be ideal, but Jeno had to think of himself too; he didn’t want to take the life of a friend. 

Not again.

Never again.

But how could he shut Jaemin down? If he did… What if he no longer trusted him? What if it ruined how easy things were now? What if he insisted on a new retainer, either from a sense of betrayal or from the sheer embarrassment of being rejected? Of course! Jeno couldn’t jeopardise the mission.

But his own feelings… 

How could he possibly deal with that?

No matter what, he just had to. Even if it meant killing a friend. 

“Well I… I rather enjoy your company too,” Jeno admitted, finding the words coming out easier than expected as if they had been waiting to be spoken all this time. “Even if at times you are a lot to keep up with.”

“I’m not that difficult,” Jaemin argued, humoured. “Just an acquired taste.”

“And whose taste is that exactly?”

The Prince shrugged. “Perhaps there is someone out there that would find me irresistibly charming. Not that I would know of them, nor will I ever.”

Jeno hummed. “Maybe you already have met them and they’re simply playing hard to get.”

“The stableboy?” Jaemin asked, surprising Jeno.

“You know he likes you?”

“He does act weird around me - more so than anyone else. Though I wouldn’t say he is playing hard to get.”

“Well, I didn’t mean him.”

“Then who?”

Jeno smirked. “Marquess Kim.”

Jaemin went red, jumping out from his seat from the sheer shock and offence. “Never!”

The loud and comical reaction caused Jeno to laugh, trying his hardest at first to contain the noise, only to break out into a strong guffaw, head tilted back from the force of it. He covered his mouth, eyes scrunched as Jaemin turned a vibrant pink, the horror and dread bubbling within him. 

“Not funny,” the Prince argued. “I take back what I said: you’re no friend of mine. Now apologise - preferably by getting on your knees and begging for forgiveness,” he continued, folding his arms over his chest. 

Jeno wiped a tear from his eye, his laughter dying out, only to pick right back up at the image of Jaemin standing in front of him visibly irked and disgusted by the suggestion. 

“Not funny,” Jaemin reiterated, his voice carrying a hint of reciprocated humour. 

“I’m sorry,” Jeno said. “Am I forgiven now, your Highness?”

“That wasn’t even half hearted,” Jaemin complained. “But fine. Only because I got to see what you look like when you laugh. I suppose that makes us even,” he concluded, sitting himself back down. 

And they resumed their drinks, falling into a far more comfortable silence than any before. It was warm. Pleasant. 

Tender enough for Jeno to ignore the churn in his stomach. 

♤♡◇♧

“Hiding from the Regent seems like a terrible idea as far as terrible ideas go,” Jeno warned. However, Jaemin didn’t care, his hand still wrapped around Jeno’s wrist, propelling him forward as he ran into the thicket of woods, familiar with the path after having traversed it so many times on horseback. “It’s only lunch.”

“Only lunch,” Jaemin uttered with a sense of betrayal. “Did you see him this morning? He looked as annoyed as he could be; I wouldn’t put it past him to take all of that out on me as if I even have anything to do with it! So no, hiding is not a terrible idea. If anything, I’d say it’s the best idea I’ve had in a while! It’s all about survival.”

They continued running, the summer air hot in their lungs. 

Jeno was pulled in every direction, led by Jaemin who seemed to only get faster and faster, a toothy smile spread across his face as the wind caressed his cheek and played with his dark hair. He jumped over the roots of trees and avoided large rocks, weaving in and out between trees with a gleeful freedom which slowly consumed Jeno as well until he too ran without a care in the world.

It seemed like they could go on forever, only for Jaemin to come to an abrupt stop in an opening Jeno didn’t recognise from their horse riding outings together. However, Jaemin seemed familiar with it, navigating the place with ease.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Jaemin said, his hold on Jeno’s wrist slipping, fingertips trailing down Jeno’s hand until he finally lost all contact with him. He glanced over his shoulder with a coy smirk as he stepped further into the clearing. “This is my go-to spot,” he explained.

It was a rather difficult place to get to on horseback with how thick the trees in the surrounding area were, hence the reason why Jeno never saw it before. But it was a serene spot with trees forming a circular wall around a pond. By the still body of water were large, smooth rocks that seemed decent enough to sit on - one large enough to maybe even lay back on and enjoy the tranquility provided by the hideout. 

“I found it when I was around six,” the Prince continued, reaching one of the aforementioned stones to take his place there, the hand resting on the smooth surface an open invitation to Jeno. 

Not needing to be told twice, Jeno followed after Jaemin, glancing down at him for a confirmation. He received it in the form of a smile and a look up through long eyelashes. If Jeno didn’t know any better he would have assumed Jaemin to be a local nymph residing in this part of the woods with how natural he looked, skin kissed by the sun and hair tousled by the hot wind. Dressed in a thin white shirt, the ties left loose to expose his pronounced collarbone, Jaemin was a sight to behold. Enchanting. Deadly.

Jeno licked his lips, mouth dry, before he sat down next to the Prince.

“I was angry at the time, pulling the typical temper tantrum one would expect from a child,” Jaemin resumed, leaning back to bask in the sunlight, a smile tugging at his lips from recounting the memory. “It must have been over something benign too - as most temper tantrums are. So I ran off, faster than my nanny could chase after. She tried but in the end I just… got lost. I ended up so far in the woods and being a child, I just cried. Cried and cried, and then I caught the sight of a fox. I must have annoyed it with my wailing but even then… I swear it seemed like it meant no harm.”

Jeno looked over at Jaemin, however the Prince had no intention of looking back, instead transfixed on the white clouds slowly making their way across the blue skies. There was just something about him - about the way he looked when he spoke, entranced by the story - that led Jeno to wonder if he was speaking the truth or simply making things up as he went along. It was a mixture of confidence and sincerity that implied the former, whereas the sudden dropping of his guard made it seem like the latter. 

“It turned away, but it did it with a strange air as if telling me to follow after. So I did. And that’s how I ended up here,” Jaemin explained, finally looking over at Jeno, catching the other man staring. And when he did, he smirked, a curious glint in his eyes. “And now you’re here too.” 

Jeno stiffened when he felt Jaemin sit up, his hand coming to rest right by his, their pinkies brushing. The air, already hot, now seemed suffocating. Jeno’s gaze flickered down to the curve of Jaemin’s lips - the way his smile seemed to grow despite not actually changing in the slightest, amused by Jeno’s startled reaction. 

“Do you like it?” Jaemin asked, the words coming out hushed.

Jeno swallowed and nodded in response.

“Then we can come here more often,” the Prince suggested, pulling away as if nothing had happened. He resumed his previous position, lounging back in the sun. “It’s especially nice at night,” he added, peeking up at Jeno from the corner of his eye. “Not that I would ever sneak out from my room in the middle of the night.”

“You’ll end up giving Jaehyun a heart attack.”

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him,” Jaemin mused. The air shifted around him at the mention of the guard, momentary but enough for Jeno to notice. From what Junmyeon said back when Jeno first arrived, he expected Jaemin to be far closer with Jaehyun and Mark, yet he was proven wrong whenever he observed the men around each other. 

It was cordial but tense - a glimmer of an old friendship pulled taut, still chasing after the old times however there was something in the way preventing them from being more than a Prince and his royal guards.  

“Nevermind that,” Jaemin continued, changing the topic before it could sour the mood completely. “Let’s just stay here for the rest of the day. I doubt we have anything more important to deal with.”

“The Regent?” Jeno pointed out, causing Jaemin to shudder.

“Don’t mention him; we’re having such a pleasant moment right now.”

“I doubt the Regent cares about that,” Jeno pointed out. “You will have to face him today, you are aware of that, right?”

Jaemin sighed, his good mood deflating. “I know,” he admitted, laying down flat on the smooth rock, hands resting over his stomach. “I just don’t want to put up with his nonsense and have it ruin the rest of the day. At least if it’s later in the evening I can still enjoy my time now,” he explained. “So let me just enjoy this.”

“He did seem annoyed.”

“Likely thing for him to be,” Jaemin replied. “He will no doubt take it out on me even if it’s not about me.”

Jeno felt a lump in his throat. “Does he do that often?”

Jaemin scoffed. “It’s practically his favourite pastime. I’m fairly used to it now. It’s as if he blames everything on mere existence. He doesn’t like me. Never has.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“Yet that doesn’t really matter, does it?” Jaemin said, eyes closed. “A lot of things aren’t fair in this world. At the end of the day, I could still have it worse.”

Jeno had no response to that.

“Do you pity me?” Jaemin asked, letting the question linger for a moment. 

Did he? To pity a target was never a good thing, but Jeno could still admit that he felt regretful; Jaemin had potential and heart - a fire burning in him - but that simply didn’t matter at the end of the day. But to pity him… Jeno wasn’t sure about that.

“No,” he answered. 

Satisfied, Jaemin’s lips curled up in a smile. “Good. I don’t like being pitied. I prefer hatred over pity.”

“And do you like any positive emotions?” 

Jaemin snorted. “You know, I never even considered that. I suppose I wouldn’t mind being liked. Seems nice.”

“You are liked,” Jeno said without really thinking about it. From everything he had seen and heard, the Prince was a divisive figure, but he was liked. Even if not as common, it was still true. Jeno’s sample size might have been quite small though, but it meant something. 

“Yeah? By who exactly?”

“Well… Chenle, Jaehyun, Mark, some of the staff do seem relatively fond of you,” Jeno listed. “And I suppose I like you too,” he added, causing Jaemin to pry his eyes open. “Don’t act surprised by that; you were the one to say you consider us friends!”

Amused by the flustered response on Jeno’s end, Jaemin laughed, nodding in agreement. “Yes, yes I do,” he mused. “I suppose it’s just strange to hear it spoken out loud. Still, it is a short list.”

“But it still is something, isn’t it?”

Jaemin hummed. “I guess so. Definitely longer than expected; I didn’t think I would be this popular, you see.”

Jeno rolled his eyes.

“Did you know I had an arranged marriage?” Jaemin asked apropos of nothing.

“Pardon?”

Jaemin chuckled. “It’s true,” he assured. “I was meant to marry a Princess. Turns out I got her sister’s name wrong, ruined a trade deal, and it caused her family to pull away from the arrangement. Go figure,” he explained, speaking so casually of it that Jeno for a split moment thought he was joking. But he wasn’t.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Jaemin confirmed. “I wonder if she would have been on the list of people that like me if things had played out differently. Not that I really care; I was never interested in marriage. Not to a princess, at least,” he added with a faint shrug of the shoulders. 

Confused, Jeno furrowed his brow. “Then who? A duchess?”

Humoured, Jaemin raised his finger and waved it around in disapproval. “You’re going the wrong way,” he stated. “My tastes lay elsewhere.”

Still not catching on, Jeno tried again with “a common lady?”

That caused Jaemin to laugh. “That’s not what I meant. It’s not the social standing that interests me,” he explained, glancing up at Jeno to see if he finally understood. When he didn’t, he let out a light, amused exhale. “My mother used to think Xiao Dejun and I would make a decent couple.”

It still took Jeno a few drawn out seconds after that to put two and two together. But finally, he understood. 

“Oh. I was not aware,” Jeno uttered, unsure what to do with this newly found information. 

“I would be more surprised if you were,” Jaemin mused. “It’s not really a taboo, even if it is unfavourable within the monarchy; after all, we do have to keep the bloodline going, so it’s not like it would be advertised to the population. Either way, it won’t really matter in the end. I doubt I will ever get to see the day I’m married anyway, so why bother worrying about it now?”

And there he was again, speaking with such certainty of his own demise. He wasn’t wrong, but it still brought along an unpleasant chill to Jeno. Who else could possibly live life knowing that death was just around the corner, treating it as if it were nothing to concern himself with?

“Have you never thought about it then?” Jeno asked, a part of him trying desperately to understand Jaemin and his psyche, never coming across someone quite like him before. Was Jaemin far too preoccupied with his impending death that he never even had to dream of a future?

“Of marriage?” Jaemin questioned, raising his brows before exhaling. “I would be lying if I said I haven’t; even I’m allowed to be delusional from time to time.”

Jeno didn’t know whether he should laugh at that or not. Playing it safe, he simply looked down at the Prince, expectant. 

“I imagined that if I were to ever marry, it would be for love - something very unlikely to happen if my dearest uncle decides to keep me around,” Jaemin explained. “It wouldn’t surprise me if he convinces the royal court to force me into a political marriage. Though those don’t always have to end in disaster. But if it was between an arranged marriage and none at all… I think I would go with the latter.”

“I didn’t expect you to be such a romantic,” Jeno mused, only realising how false those words sounded on his tongue as soon as he spoke them.

Because what was Jaemin if not romantic? 

His warped outlook on life was confusing at best, but even then, it was shaped around a deeply rooted sense of love. A love for his mother and a love for a crown which wanted nothing from him in the first place. He was closed off, yet upon further inspection that was nothing but an invitation for someone to dare and breach the walls - to have someone sit side by side with him just as Jeno had done, bathed in sunlight within the confines of a secret grove Jaemin cared enough to share with him. 

A pessimistic romantic. 

“Neither did I,” Jaemin admitted, the brief smile which flashed across his face knocking the wind out of Jeno’s lungs. “What about you then? Are you a romantic at heart?”

“I… I’m not sure,” Jeno admitted. “I have been too preoccupied with other matters to really consider it.”

Jaemin hummed, understanding if not slightly disappointed. “Well then, I hope that one day you’ll have the chance to consider it.” It was spoken with sincerity and a kindness completely unknown to Jeno. 

With a lump in his throat, Jeno nodded. 

They stayed in the clearing for long enough to see the sky change its hue, hours passing by in each other’s comfortable presence. But all good things eventually came to their end, and knowing that they were due to experience the Regent’s fury one way or another, Jeno ushered Jaemin to get up even if it pained him to do so. Jaemin was at peace, not a Prince but a simple youth, skin adorned by the sun, warmed up by its tender caress. 

“If we must,” Jaemin said, pulling himself together slowly. 

They made their way out, only for Jaemin to stumble just in time for Jeno to catch him, eyes wide as he had the Prince pressed so closely to him. “Are you alright?” Jeno asked, hyper aware of the way Jaemin’s hands felt flat against his chest.

Jaemin pulled a face, somewhere between embarrassed and playful. “My legs refused to work for a moment there,” he explained. “Too much lazing around,” he added, not making a move to pull himself upright. Instead, he glanced up at Jeno, his eyes locking the retainer in place. He had that effect on Jeno, capable of stopping him dead in his tracks far too many times to count by this point. 

Jeno should have done something - he should have helped Jaemin stand up and move on like nothing happened - but he didn’t. He allowed Jaemin to instead keep him captive under his unwavering gaze, his lips twitching infinitesimally with glee and satisfaction and something far, far heavier. Just like that, they were locked in place, unable to look away from one another. 

And when Jaemin’s hands suddenly started to move, Jeno shuddered, lips parting with a soft, startled sigh. Jaemin’s hands pressed harder against him, running from where they were on Jeno’s chest down to his stomach and then to his sides, squeezing them firmly as if he were trying to make out the shape of the man underneath. Then finally, once he got to Jeno’s waist, he hummed, satisfied with his new discovery. 

And just like nothing happened, he stepped away. “All good now,” he stated, moving forward and leaving Jeno behind. Only once he was free from Jaemin’s presence did he allow himself to breathe.

♤♡◇♧

That was the last time Jaemin had touched Jeno, but the scene replayed in his head constantly. Jeno could picture it perfectly, down to the way the sun filtered through the branches and landed on Jaemin’s smooth cheek - how it lit up his warm brown eyes, turning them a delectable golden hue. His eyes, his lips, the way his dark hair fell across his forehead - messy and windblown. 

And Jeno could still feel his hands trailing his body, exploring and curious in their navigation. 

It shouldn’t have preoccupied his mind as much as it did, and Jeno did his best to ignore the feelings which the mere touch sparked within him. Yet despite that, he still wondered what it would feel like to have Jaemin’s hands without a layer of clothing in between them. 

Jeno was in no way above sleeping with one of his targets, but up until now, he had a strategic reason for it; either to curry himself some favour and trust, or to weasel his way out of a far more uncomfortable situation. But to even consider it because he wanted to… Well, that was new. 

It would be a shame though, he thought, to let Jaemin die a virgin. 

Or maybe that was just his own twisted desire coming up to the surface.

Not that he should even be thinking about sleeping with the Prince in the first place. As things stood, Jeno was already far too close to his target to be deemed appropriate for the job. Things had gotten too personal, and the more Jeno thought about crossing yet another line, the more he risked things turning ugly once the big day came.

So he ignored the heat swirling in the pit of his stomach as he remembered the firm grip of Jaemin’s hands around his waist, pushing it all down for the sake of his own sanity. He ignored the sly slant of his smirk and the flex of his muscles when he stripped out of his shirt and slacks, leaving very little to Jeno’s imagination. He pretended to not notice just how attractive the Prince was.

For now, he had other matters to attend to.

Such as the fact that Jaemin had called for him at an unusually late hour. 

Typically, Jaemin would have retired for the night by now. However, as Jeno was having a meal at the end of the day, a message came down from the Prince. Confused, Jeno had no other choice than to go up to see Jaemin in his chambers. If it was something urgent then he would have known from the get go by the look on the messenger's face, but given how casual he had been, Jeno assumed he was in for nothing more than Jaemin telling him exactly what he wanted for breakfast in the morning. 

Jeno made his way up, nodding to Jaehyun when he passed the guard on duty. 

He knocked on Jaemin’s door to announce his presence, stepping in once he heard the man on the other side call for him.

When he was inside, he saw Jaemin by the balcony, the doors opened to allow the fresh, summer night air to pour in. 

“I do hope you are not planning on sneaking out through there,” Jeno said as he took a step closer towards Jaemin. “Is that why you called for me? To go on another late night stroll?”

Surprisingly, Jaemin didn’t respond. In fact, he didn’t react at all to Jeno’s arrival now that he was there. He observed the expanse of greenery and the sky outside, hands held behind his back as he remained silent. It was unnerving, but not enough for Jeno to feel like there was anything out of the unordinary; after all, he was now used to the fact that Jaemin’s mood fluctuated wildly, sometimes loud and sometimes subdued. Right now it was the latter. 

So he waited for Jaemin to speak, waiting patiently like any other servant would. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” Jaemin admitted, bringing the silence between them to an end. “Not that that’s anything new,” he continued before Jeno could suggest brewing him some calming tea. “I haven’t slept well in a long time.”

Jeno found that surprising considering how the Prince was almost impossible to wake up in the mornings. That and his naps out in the sun, preferring to shut his eyes than to read the books he brought with him. Though perhaps those were more so signs of a disturbed sleep pattern than anything else.

“To sleep well, you have to be comfortable,” Jaemin said, still not looking at Jeno. “And by that I mean safe. You may be able to fall asleep in a lion’s den, but your body will never be truly at rest. And in this context, the entire palace is the den.” 

Constantly paranoid.

That’s how Jaemin lived his life.

Finally, Jaemin looked over his shoulder, dark eyes meeting Jeno’s. They were riddled with a heavy exhaustion, yet even then there was a fire blazing within them. “What do you think of me?” He asked, confusing Jeno. 

“Pardon?”

“It’s a simple question,” Jaemin said, slowly turning to face Jeno. “If you think I’m stupid, then say it,” Jaemin urged, keeping a noticeable distance between himself and Jeno, half of the bedroom laid out between them. “I want you to be honest.”

Now that was something that Jeno really didn’t expect when he had heard the news that Jaemin wanted to see him. 

“Go on. You can say whatever you think,” Jaemin said. The encouragement was strange, but Jeno felt like he had no other choice but to entertain Jaemin’s question. “I’ll know if you’re lying.”

So what did Jeno think of Jaemin? Well, there was definitely a lot to say about him after the time they had spent together already.

Was he stupid? No. Not really.

Maybe at first he would have said that, but now, after spending so much time with the Prince, Jeno knew better. He knew that Jaemin was well spoken and that despite complaining about a constant onslaught of lessons, he had far more knowledge drilled into him than anyone around him. So he was smart, but book smart was one thing. In terms of his knowledge on the wider world and life… Well, he also wasn’t stupid. 

Of course, there were things he didn’t know, but a lot of that was not by a fault of his own. If he was kept within the confines of the palace and then never informed on events he realistically should have been told about, then was he really to blame? And perhaps he had messed up in the past and Jeno didn’t know the full details, such as the disaster relief that ended up in and of itself turning into yet another disaster, but Jeno didn’t for one second now believe that that came from a place of complete stupidity and ignorance or even malice. 

Jaemin tried too hard for Jeno to see him as a fool, even if the Prince was in the end made a fool by fate, handed the cruelest of hands in life. 

“I don’t think you’re stupid, your Highness,” Jeno replied, the tagged on form of address causing Jaemin’s mouth to twitch. 

“Is that it?” Jaemin asked. “Nothing else to add? You can speak freely; I won’t hold it against you.”

Jeno swallowed. “Well… If I were to be honest, I do think you are…” He didn’t know what to say. By now he had made it known to Jaemin that he thought him difficult, even if not verbally. Was he meant to praise Jaemin instead? No. That’s not what Jaemin was waiting to hear. “Cautious,” was what he settled on. “Bordering on paranoia.”

Pleased, Jaemin grinned, nodding in agreement. “And?”

“You’re turbulent,” Jeno added. “High highs and low lows. Unpredictable, yet predictably so.”

Jaemin smiled, slowly walking away from the balcony to instead reach his desk. Yet he didn’t stop there, intent on circling the entirety of his room as Jeno spoke. 

“Sentimental,” Jeno went on, thinking of the handkerchief, fabric thinned from constant attention. “You care a lot about what others think of you, even if you pretend not to care.”

“Anything else?” Jaemin asked, his curiosity subdued by something Jeno could only describe as an odd mixture of glee and relief. He finally reached Jeno, standing so close to him that Jeno could feel the warmth of his body. “Anything at all?”

Jeno considered it, eyes fixed on Jaemin, neither of them willing to look away first. 

He grinded his teeth, countless thoughts swarming his head, too loud to notice all the alarm bells ringing behind his ears.

“You’re scared,” Jeno concluded, the last piece fitting into place perfectly. 

Jaemin offered him a satisfied hum, lips curving in a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes - forced. He broke eye contact, glancing down at the minimal space between them, far too close for a standard conversation. And for a while, he did nothing but stare down at their feet, the tips of their shoes practically touching. 

And finally, once all his thoughts had been collected, Jaemin looked up.

“Jihoon never had a mole,” Jaemin declared. It came out of nowhere, causing Jeno to blink, confused by the sudden and unexpected fact being spoken. “Your cousin never had a mole,” he reiterated, the emphasis on the relationship between him and Jeno leaving the older with an unnerved falter of the heart.

Just what was he getting at?

“Though I suppose that’s an easy detail to miss about a person - even family,” Jaemin stated, taking a slight step away from Jeno, the distance between them growing slowly but surely with his following remarks. “He was away from the Lee residence for quite some time anyway, so if I told you one thing, you would have believed it. I mean, why wouldn’t you? New on the job forced to deal with someone as unusual as myself; I’d smile and nod as well if I were in your place.”

Perplexed, Jeno furrowed his brow, head tilted to the side by a fraction. 

“But you… You really are new to the job,” Jaemin mused. “I’m certain you’ve dealt with answering to the beck and call of men far too high and mighty for what they’re really worth, but nothing about you screams Lee - even if I don’t think too highly of them myself. But you are a Lee; I never doubted that,” Jaemin stated, coming to a halt by the edge of his bed. “Say: what purpose does the knife in your pocket serve?”

And finally, it dawned on Jeno.

The truth was that Jeno had been slipping. 

He had been slipping from the very start; his carefully crafted act came crumbling down in the blink of an eye. What he thought to be steady foundations and walls of fortified, strong brick, were nothing more than hastily slapped together wooden beams sunk into sand, toppling the second the first big wave came crashing in. And Jaemin… Well, Jaemin was that wave - forceful and unforgiving, demanding to be felt and seen.

He rose high and slammed Jeno with all his might until Jeno had no other choice but to surrender, letting his guard down now that there was nothing in place to shield him from the oncoming force of nature that was Jaemin’s existence. 

Jeno couldn’t put on a straight face, emotionless and blank to everything Jaemin threw his way. Jaemin and his behaviour - his weird quirks and at times insufferable attitude that left Jeno with no choice but to retaliate and talk back, only to realise that that was exactly what Jaemin wanted and what he liked. If Jaemin didn’t reprimand him for acting improperly for what his role demanded, then why should Jeno still try so vigilantly to be something he didn’t have to be in front of the Prince? Why bother?

Why bother putting up walls, separating Jeno from Jaemin? The real Jeno from Jaemin. What point was there if, by being less of a stern and proper retainer, Jeno could garner Jaemin’s trust far more easily? It would make his life that much simpler, getting to know all that he needed to know to carry out his job. 

His job.

What was his job again? To befriend the unfit Prince? To see Jaemin for who he was beneath all of the gossip and carefully crafted lies and acts? To see him unfurl right in front of his eyes, revealing a gentle, kind soul, troubled by death and hatred coming at him from every which way?

Or was he there with just one objective? 

Was he there to garner menial information and kill Jaemin at the right moment?

His job. 

He was a terrible choice for this job. 

“It’s for protection,” Jeno replied in one last ditch effort to keep up his appearances.

“From who?”

“From potential danger,” Jeno said, not convincing Jaemin in the slightest.

“And who is it meant to protect?”

“You.”

Not buying it, Jaemin smiled. “I see. So then… Is killing me the only way you can protect me?”

Chapter Text

There was no denying it now. 

Well, maybe Jeno could still find a way to turn the tide and just play things off as a joke if he tried hard enough. For all he knew, Jaemin could just be teasing him, expertly playing with him to see how far he could get before Jeno would show his true colours. After all, one of Jaemin’s first words to Jeno were “are you here to kill me?” 

Who was to say that this wasn’t all one big joke?

But unfortunately, Jeno was unable to convince himself of that. Not when Jaemin looked at him like that.

No denying it. Jaemin was onto him.

Jeno hesitated, his hands itching for the knife hidden in his inner pocket. This wasn’t how it was meant to happen, but he had been without a shadow of a doubt compromised. Now not even his go to mode of seduction would get him out of this situation. 

Jaemin knew too much. Jeno failed his job, and now he had to clean up.

“If things don’t go according to plan and he finds out,” Johnny said when they had discussed the task closer to Jeno’s departure. “You can kill him. No - you have to kill him. Don’t let him get away, because if he does, all of this is over. Just kill him and run. I’ll handle the rest. Got it?”

“Got it,” Jeno replied. “Not that it will come to that in the first place.”

Johnny laughed, charmed by Jeno’s conviction. He placed a hand on Jeno’s shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “I know.”

His hand twitched, catching Jaemin’s eyes instantly, zoned in on the slight movement like a hawk. 

“Like this?” Jaemin asked, voice wavering. 

“I’m sorry,” Jeno said. He took in a deep breath and reached for the concealed weapon, gripping it tight in his hand. “This wasn’t how it was meant to go.” The blade felt heavy in his hand, unable to hold it comfortably as his eyes fixed onto Jaemin, the Prince looking back at him with a mixture of betrayal and acceptance. Both felt wrong. 

Jeno wasn’t sure which he hated more: the fact that he hurt Jaemin, or the fact that this was something he was expecting all along.

“I thought we had something,” Jaemin mused. He was being trapped by Jeno who now started to move slowly, cutting off his path to the balcony and the rest of the room, keeping him between the wall and the bed. “And you’re still…”

“It’s nothing personal,” Jeno assured as if that would in any way help. It was the truth though, even if it meant nothing right now. “Orders are orders.” He spoke just like he felt: not in control. His body moved on its own accord and all he could do was watch the scene play out, dissociating to make this even slightly palatable. 

Jaemin chuckled, the airy sound coming out nervous. He took one step back as Jeno took one step forward, the two of them caught in a tedious dance with Jaemin progressively nearing the obstacle posed by the large canopy bed. His eyes briefly fell from Jeno to look down at the blade in his grasp, the sharp metal catching the light in a taunting display of cruelty. Jeno wanted to conceal the blade again, met with a poignant ache in his chest when Jaemin looked back up at him, eyes shaking despite his best efforts to still act composed.

“Are you scared of dying?”

The words echoed in Jeno’s ears, loud and demanding. 

“I don’t think I’m scared of it. But I’m not ready.”

Liar. 

This was fear, no matter how Jeno looked at it. 

Jaemin was scared, face blanching and eyes shaking. He swallowed, the cracks in his careful act slowly but surely making themselves visible to Jeno - his executioner. He looked sickly, trembling with dread with each millimeter that Jeno drew closer, closing the gap between them one by one, bringing with him the chill of his unforgiving metal blade. 

“Is that all you can do then?” Jaemin asked, defying the frays in his voice. “Follow orders like a loyal dog? Can you not think for yourself?”

“I’m sorry,” Jeno repeated, his palm sweating. He flexed around the grip of the blade, the weapon heavier than he remembered it ever being. 

“That doesn’t answer my question!” Jaemin exclaimed, the back of his thigh hitting his bedside table. “Tell me, Jeno; is this all you are?” The words were sharp and pointed - a dagger of his own - lodging themselves deep in Jeno’s gut, twisting and turning, scraping at his insides. 

Was this really all he was? A murderer? 

“I know you’re not,” Jaemin continued, desperately pleading with Jeno. “I know it, Jeno. You’re not a bad person. So just- do you have to? Can’t we- can’t we figure this out?”

Standing in front of Jeno was his freedom. As he looked at Jaemin, he saw what he was worth - a plot of land and enough money to set Jeno for life, never again having to kill or sell his body to get through just one more day of torture. He could have a library. He could open up his own business, following in his mother’s footsteps, naming the tailoring shop after her. He could tend to his own garden, grow his own crops, cook his own food. He could have everything he was robbed off, never given the chance to fight for it.

But it would come at the cost of Jaemin’s life. 

The books, the shop, the crops, would all be stained in his blood. No matter how hard he tried to clean it off, the crimson would persist, just as all the other blood staining Jeno’s hands did. 

Maybe one day the guilt would pass. 

Maybe.

Maybe not.

“I’ll make it quick,” Jeno said. “You won’t feel a thing. I promise.”

Enraged, Jaemin snapped. “Can’t you fucking say anything else? Are you brainwashed? Is that it?” He questioned, frantically moving around with very little places to actually go now that Jeno had closed off all paths. All but one. “If you want to play the part of a dog so badly, then be my dog instead!” Jaemin exclaimed, jumping on the bed in a last ditch attempt to flee Jeno.

However, as he stumbled forward, Jeno grabbed hold of his ankle and pulled him back.

Jaemin groaned, kicking his leg to free himself. 

With all his squirming, he succeeded and Jeno had no other choice than to chase after him properly. He followed him on the bed, grabbing onto his thigh and waist to stop him from getting off on the other side, using all his strength to pin Jaemin down. The Prince, however, put up quite the fight. 

Jaemin flipped over onto his back, teeth gritted and a fire raging behind his eyes he refused to go so easily. Jeno could have just stabbed him then and there - he should have - but he hesitated instead, pinning Jaemin down with his weight as he brought the edge of the blade to the Prince’s throat. He was a caged animal, nostrils flaring, refusing to accept defeat in the face of his captor. 

With the distance between them, Jaemin could only wrap his hands around Jeno’s wrist, fighting back against him and the blade.

“I think I played that part already,” Jeno stated. “And I’m not a dog.”

That was met with Jaemin spitting on his face. 

“Is this how you treat all your employees?” Jeno asked, wiping the spit from where it landed on his cheek. He tried to pretend it wasn’t Jaemin there beneath him. Anyone but Jaemin.

“I thought you didn’t work for me,” the Prince retorted, bitterness seeping into his voice. Rage. Anger. Undeniable hurt.

“Right.” 

Jeno pressed the blade closer to Jaemin’s throat, the sharp edge just about grazing skin. He held it there, limbs heavy. All that he needed to do now was apply force, cutting through delicate flesh. But he couldn’t do it; he couldn’t bear to think of drawing Jaemin’s suffering out like that, making the Prince bleed out slowly, gargling and gasping for help as his body grew colder and heavier with each passing second. 

And that single moment of hesitation was all that Jaemin needed.

Seeing the opportunity in front of him, Jaemin conjured up all his strength to knock Jeno off balance, forcing his hips up in a sharp and drastic manner to cause Jeno to stumble from where he was sitting. Momentarily losing his hold on the situation, Jaemin then twisted Jeno’s arm, the friction burning enough for Jeno’s hold on the knife to waver - not enough to drop the blade, but enough for him to give Jaemin an opening.

He hitched his leg up and with one swift move, Jaemin flipped their positions on the bed. Without hesitation he reached for Jeno’s wrists, pinning them down above his head as he stared down at the assassin, expression frantic. Sweat beaded down his temple, breathing ragged, eyes wild. Dark hair curtained his face as he was hunched over Jeno, his body weight keeping the man from doing anything.

“Sloppy,” he commented, tightening his grasp on Jeno’s wrist hard enough to bruise. “Are you even trying?” 

Jeno stared up in shock, not expecting to be overpowered so easily. That shouldn’t have happened.

“You-”

“I saw you earlier,” Jaemin interrupted. “The look on your face when you saw me without a shirt for the first time. You seemed surprised then. But you know, since I can’t sleep, why would I retire for the night so early? What could I possibly be doing before I finally crash for the night? Do you think you have an answer to that now?”

He could hold his own.

Jeno should have suspected it; there was no way Jaemin could look the way he did without putting in more than the bare minimum effort into his physique. Though Jeno seriously doubted he had a chance to properly test his strength before this.

Now it was Jeno’s turn to squirm, using all his strength to free himself. But just like before, he had underestimated Jaemin. Still he tried, jutting his hips upwards to try and throw Jaemin off just like the Prince had done to him.

Instead of the intended goal, he only managed to rub himself against Jaemin’s crotch, eliciting a raspy and humoured groan from the man. “Well, this definitely isn’t how I thought I’d get you in my bed.” He was pushing Jeno down into the mattress, not letting the man beneath him regain control at any cost. 

Jeno struggled against him but decided to stop, curious by the sudden shift in Jaemin’s demeanour. The fear that had latched itself onto him was now washed away, still jittery and anxious, heart pounding in his chest loud enough for Jeno to hear the steady rhythmic thud of it. Jaemin noticed the way Jeno was no longer straining against him but he didn’t let his guard down in the same way Jeno had, unwilling to make the same mistake. He stared right down at Jeno, eyes dark and lips parted as he let out ragged exhales. 

“You hesitated,” he uttered, low and raspy. 

Jeno licked his lips, struggling to find the right words to say. 

“I told you; I promised I wouldn’t make it hurt.”

Jaemin chuckled, shaking his head. “So you wanted to make it quick and painless?”

“Yes.”

“For who?” Jaemin asked, leaning down, his face hovering above Jeno, their noses just about brushing. “Painless for who?”

His breath was warm against Jeno’s skin, a shiver running down his spine at the proximity and heat. The look in his eyes was thick and hazy - unreadable. Just as always, it paralysed Jeno, unable to do anything but look away. So much so that Jeno didn’t notice the way one of Jaemin’s hands loosened around his wrist, skilled fingers sliding up Jeno’s tightly clenched palm to unwrap it and take the blade from him. 

“For me? Or for you?” Jaemin asked before abruptly pulling up, the knife now in his hand. But instead of directing the blade back down at Jeno, he brought it up to his own throat just as Jeno had done before. The sharp edge caressed his throat, drawing blood - something Jeno had been unable to do. 

“No!” Jeno jolted forward, sitting up now that Jaemin wasn’t pinning his arms down anymore. He reached for the knife but Jaemin pushed him back down, dropping the blade in the process. The weapon fell to the bed and was promptly forced off in the midst of their following struggle, clattering down on the wooden floor. 

Jeno didn’t know why he was fighting - what he was trying to achieve in the first place. Neither did Jaemin. They simply pushed and pulled until Jeno was forced back down on the bed, their limbs tangled, both of their appearances a complete mess. Jaemin caged Jeno in between his arms, hovering above him, breathing as if he had just ran a mile. In the struggle the laces of his sleep shirt had been undone, revealing a plane of unmarred skin. Jeno’s eyes flickered to the sight, noting the dips and curves of muscle, their strength making itself known right now. 

“I could have done it for you,” Jaemin said, quiet and trembling.

“Do you even know what you’re saying?”

The Prince chuckled, closing his eyes as he shook his head. He sank down lower, a troubled smile finding its way upon his lips as he pressed his forehead against Jeno’s. 

“You hesitated,” he repeated, finding comfort in that truth. 

Before Jeno could respond, the doors to Jaemin’s bedroom were forced open. Jeno’s body went rigid, tossed into the freezing sea as Jaehyun barged inside. “I heard yelling-” He said, panicking at the thought of something happening to Jaemin. And this, Jeno thought, would be it; he failed, caught red-handed trying to murder the crown Prince.

This was it.

Jaehyun, his hand over the hilt of his sheathed sword, ready to act. 

But Jaemin didn’t ask Jaehyun to arrest Jeno.

He didn’t even let him know he was in danger.

“Can you knock?” Jaemin said, pulling away to sit between Jeno’s thighs. He was dishevelled, skin flushed and hair a mess. The state of his attire also was questionable. Together, the picture painted in front of Jaehyun’s eyes was… Well, Jeno knew exactly what it looked like. “We’re in the middle of something.”

Shocked, Jaehyun took a second to respond. “But- I heard-” He paused, looking down at Jeno and then to Jaemin. “A struggle,” he completed, baffled by the situation. Clearly unsure what to do, he just looked at the Prince, a myriad of emotions flashing behind his eyes. And then he saw something. “You’re bleeding.”

Jaemin wiped his throat. “A scratch,” he explained.

“But-”

“If I need you, I’ll call,” Jaemin interrupted. “So go. You’re dismissed.”

Jaehyun hesitated, lingering by the door. He tried to make sense of what was happening - of the way the two men looked and the noise he heard loud enough to alert him to something being potentially wrong. Jeno could only guess that it was his own cry to stop Jaemin that made him hurry over to his help. 

In the end, Jaehyun could only trust that Jaemin was telling the truth: there was nothing wrong even with the blood marring his skin.

“Forgive me for the intrusion, your Highness,” he said with a bow. He stepped back, looking at the two once more before leaving them be. 

When the doors clicked shut, Jaemin turned to face Jeno again, this time finding Jeno to be the one panicking. 

“Do you really think that you would be able to get away so easily?” Jaemin questioned. “Even if you escaped through the balcony, Jaehyun saw you, didn’t he? You wouldn’t get far if he was the one on your tail.”

And he was right. So painfully right. 

With plans going completely off the rails, Jeno had no means of quick escape like he would during the coronation. He would have to sneak out and get out the palace walls before anyone could catch onto something being wrong. His best bet would be to scale the balcony and rush to the stables, grab Iris and have her carry him out. But all gates were guarded making his escape all that more difficult. His only way would be to kill the guards on his way out, but by that point they would have sounded the alarm bells. 

Jeno was trapped. 

“This is a suicide mission,” Jaemin punctuated sharply. “You kill me, and you die too. Don't you see that?”

“Why do you care?”

Jaemin laughed, the sound sad. “Why do I care? Are you really asking me that? Fuck! Are you that dumb?”

Jeno clenched his jaw, staring up at Jaemin with no response.

“Why do I care about you? Why do you think?” Jaemin’s hands found their way onto Jeno’s waist, his thumbs swiping over the fabric of Jeno’s jacket. “You… I thought that maybe you could see me for who I am. That you did see me.”

“I’m here to kill you.”

“And?” Jaemin retorted. “What does that change? What difference does it make? Killer or not… you’re still the Jeno I know.”

Jeno swallowed, the sheer weight of Jaemin’s simple response rendering him incapable of saying anything. He could look up at the younger man, seeing the sea of hurt behind his eyes. All the pain and vulnerability, his guards now fully down in front of Jeno since there was no use in keeping them up any longer. 

It allowed Jeno to see everything he already knew about Jaemin; the fact that he was scared and alone, finding solace in the man that had come to rob him of his life. He saw the spark of life that Jaemin held onto so dearly, the way it kept him going one small step at a time, seeking something that felt unreachable. Jeno saw Jaemin as he was - no titles, no hierarchy, just a young man who, just like himself, had been dealt a bad hand. 

“What does any of that change?” Jaemin asked again, voice trembling. “You- I know you, Jeno. I know you. And you know me. So… So what if you’re here to kill me? What difference does it make? What I feel, I- What does it change?”

“Jaemin…”

At that, Jaemin finally cracked. He slumped forward, hiding his face from Jeno as his body trembled with cries. He rested his head on Jeno’s shoulder, his arms wrapping around the man for support and comfort, needing Jeno as he fell apart above him. 

Jeno inhaled, shaky and uncertain. “Jaemin,” he called again, his hands frozen at his sides. He didn’t know what he was trying to say. He had nothing to say, really. 

“I- I told you, didn’t I?” Jaemin said, his cries more evident with the way his words were broken apart by choked sobs. “I have- I have something I need to do before I die. So can you just- can you just let me-”

Jeno sucked in his lips, his own heart clenching at the devastating sound of his cries. 

“Just help me until then,” Jaemin continued, his hot tears staining Jeno’s jacket. “Help me- help me get justice for her and then- then you can kill me. Fuck, I’ll even impale myself on your knife if you want, just-”

“Jaemin,” Jeno interrupted, stomach churning at the mere thought of that ever happening. “Don’t… Don’t say that.”

“Why? Does it hurt you too?”

Jeno couldn’t answer that. 

He knew the answer. But he couldn’t say it out loud. He couldn’t admit it.

Nevertheless, Jaemin understood.

“How much?”

“How much what?”

“How much is my life worth?”

Far more than what he had been offered.

“Freedom,” Jeno replied. “It’s worth my freedom.”

Understanding, Jaemin exhaled, his body still trembling. “That sounds nice,” he mused, nuzzling his face into Jeno’s neck, tears still spilling from his eyes. “Then… You’ll get your freedom.” He sounded so sure of it too. Because he would make sure of it.

Even at the cost of his own life.

“See? I knew death could be kind,” Jaemin muttered, words muffled against Jeno. 

Unable to hold back any longer, Jeno wrapped his arms around Jaemin, holding him tight in his embrace only to find that the Prince was crying ever harder now, his entire body wracked with sobs. He held him as if he never planned to let him go, feeling a hot prick behind his own eyes, vision blurring. He refused to cry, but it’s all he wanted to do.

Jaemin was…

Jaemin didn’t deserve this. 

Jaemin said he didn’t fear death. Yet he so clearly did. He was a walking contradiction, saying one thing but meaning another. And right now, as Jaemin trembled in his arms, Jeno was more sure than ever that the Prince was just as scared as everyone else. 

And Jeno cared too deeply. He cared too much to let him die. But that didn’t matter; what Jeno thought didn’t matter. He had a job, and he simply couldn’t fail Johnny. 

Even if the cracks in his heart felt unmendable. 

The longer he held Jaemin, the worse it became. He was crumbling, one by one, pathetically weak to Jaemin and his sincerity. There, after being ambushed and nearly killed by Jeno, Jaemin had somehow managed to cry himself to sleep in Jeno’s embrace, cosying up to the grim reaper fully aware that at any second he could slit his throat or suffocate him to death. 

And Jeno should have done just that; it would have been a quick and painless death. Peaceful. Jaemin was at peace, vulnerable and open, trusting to a fault. Maybe he was even offering himself up to Jeno, giving him this chance to stomp out the life in him without the guilt of seeing him cry and beg. It would be easy like this.

All Jeno had to do was make the move now. 

Yet it would mean living with the knowledge he broke Jaemin’s trust. It meant living on with a cracked heart, never to be made whole again. It meant more blood on his hands.

Jeno glanced down at Jaemin, the man snuggled up to his side, and he wondered if it was worth it. 

♤♡◇♧

Jaemin woke up.

Alive.

And as he slowly pried his eyes open he was met with Jeno right by his side, the older man having stayed with him the entire night, his arms still wrapped around Jaemin. 

Jeno ended up falling asleep after playing out countless scenarios within his head. He had a long, restless night, considering getting up to grab the knife only to curse at himself for even thinking about it in the first place. He struggled until he too finally grew exhausted, passing out alongside Jaemin and the steady rise and fall of his chest, soft exhales against the crook of his neck. 

Jeno had a lot to think about, but in the end he just couldn’t muster up the strength to kill Jaemin. He knew that this decision would come back to haunt him sooner than later, and if Johnny were to ever find out about this moment of weakness…

What Johnny said, Jeno executed. It was as simple as that. Jeno learned early on to never question the older man; if he said to jump, Jeno jumped. If he said to walk into the enemy’s lair, then he would. And if he told Jeno to kill the Prince of Taesan, then Jeno would kill the Prince of Taesan. 

Yet this time around, that didn’t happen. 

It terrified Jeno. The fact that he disobeyed Johnny - the man that had raised him, nurtured him, given him a chance of a life that wasn’t completely devoid of colour - terrified Jeno to the core. It left him nervous. Anxious beyond compare. He could never let Johnny know of his misstep, and when the day of the coronation finally came, Jeno would have to bury all evidence of his hesitation.

But could he really do that?

Jeno was awake long before Jaemin, only catching a handful of hours of rest amidst his incessant worrying. And so, when Jaemin did finally begin to stir, he was right there to greet him.

Jaemin blinked slowly, long lashes announcing his confusion. 

“You stayed,” he uttered, piecing together all that had transpired the night prior. 

“I did,” Jeno replied over the lump in his throat. The space in his chest constricted when the arm slung over his middle tightened its hold, Jaemin pulling him closer. That shouldn’t have happened. None of this should have ever happened. “Are you surprised?” He asked, pretending that he was in no way affected by the warmth of Jaemin’s embrace, the Prince snuggling up to him as if it were the only thing he knew how to do.

“Not as much as I expected,” Jaemin admitted, nuzzling closer and resting his head against Jeno’s chest, ear pressed to his beating heart. “I knew you wouldn’t do anything. I just… I didn’t really expect you to stay. Not like this.”

Neither did Jeno.

But just like he was incapable of picking up the discarded dagger, he was also incapable of untangling himself from Jaemin’s limbs. And hence he stayed as he was for the entire night, far more rested than he should have been given the tumultuous night and short hours of overall slumber. 

“I knew you were a good person,” Jaemin continued, the admission gentle and true. “You are a good person.”

It felt wrong. 

It felt wrong to hear him say it.

Jaemin paused, focusing instead on the way his hand caressed Jeno - going from his side to his stomach, stroking over the line of buttons of his shirt, the fabric now showing signs of creasing from being worn for a whole day. He ran circles over Jeno’s abdomen, falling into a trance of his own making. 

“I want to help you too,” Jaemin continued. “So when the time comes… If it’s the only way I can do it, I’ll let you-”

Jeno couldn’t stomach hearing Jaemin say it. 

He shot right up, interrupting Jaemin before he could finish his sentence. His skin prickled with sweat - a sickly, unpleasant one - as he felt bile rise to his throat. He was cold just as he was hot, body a complete mess. 

Jeno glanced down at Jaemin, the younger man baffled as he was laid on the bed now without Jeno to cling onto. 

“I- I should head out,” he declared. “Breakfast. I should-”

“Are you really going to-”

Jeno’s answer came in the form of him jumping out of bed, kicking the knife as he stumbled out of the canopy bed. He groaned, nearly tripping on the thing before the realisation hit him as to what he stumbled upon. He could only stare down at the object in abject horror, skin blanching, the queasy churn in his stomach only getting worse the more he looked at the blade. 

Slowly, he bent down to pick it up, the air in the bedroom stiff and tense. Jeno felt Jaemin’s eyes on him. 

He could do it.

Nice and easy.

Jeno clenched his jaw. 

No. 

He couldn’t.

In the end, he pulled himself up and held the dagger up, Jaemin’s eyes falling upon it. 

“I-”

“You can keep it,” Jaemin assured. “For protection.”

Not expecting that, Jeno furrowed his brow. “From who?”

The Prince shrugged, a faint smile on his lips. 

Too trusting. Far too trusting.

Jeno placed the weapon in the inner pocket he had kept it in this whole time. 

“For protection,” he echoed, breath hitching as his eyes landed on Jaemin again. 

The younger man relaxed, slipping a hand under his pillow. “So about breakfast…”

“Right! Breakfast! On it,” Jeno uttered, feeling like a right old fool, stumbling and stuttering. But Jaemin just made him lose all semblance of control, turning him into a complete mess of a man. He was there to kill him - he had nearly killed him - and now he was back to playing the part of the Prince’s retainer.

Pathetic. 

Utterly pathetic. 

“I’ll be right back,” Jeno assured, taking a step backwards towards the door. “Right. Breakfast. Your Highness.”

Jaemin chuckled, the noise muffled against his pillow and the bend of his elbow. “I thought we were closer than that, Jeno.”

“I- Well-”

“Bring extras,” Jaemin interrupted before Jeno could embarrass himself even more. “We have a long morning ahead, don’t we?”

They really did.

Jeno hurried out of Jaemin’s bedroom as soon as he could do so, horrified to find Mark on guard. It wasn’t anything unusual, but it was clear that Mark did not expect to see Jeno leave Jaemin’s bedroom when he hadn’t even seen him come in - now or at the start of his shift which would have been a few hours ago already. 

As soon as Jeno stepped out and into his line of sight, Mark’s eyes widened comically. 

Jeno, hair a mess, clothes in a sorry state as well, clearly worn the day prior, was walking out of Jaemin’s bedroom all flustered and nervous. He was stumbling, heart racing. And of course Mark saw him. Of course he thought it was strange. And of course his mind jumped right to the wrong conclusion. 

“Ah- You-” 

Jeno interrupted his stuttering with a firm “good morning.”

“Good morning,” Mark greeted in return, cheeks filling with an embarrassed flush as his mind conjured up an image of what exactly had transpired between him and the Prince. Of course, he was wrong, but Jeno couldn’t exactly tell him what really happened. Not if he wanted to live. And he really wanted to live. 

So he rushed down to first get changed and freshen up, ignoring the odd looks he received as he passed by Giselle, the maid baffled by the fact he was already dressed and rushing down the hallways. He met her with a faint, polite nod and nothing else, hurrying to the comfort of his own bedroom. 

He shut the door behind him, leaning back against it. Chest rising and falling rapidly, Jeno stared up at the ceiling.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “Fuck!”

Jeno stripped off his jacket and shirt, getting changed quickly into a neatly ironed shirt. He was shaking as he did up the buttons, stomach dropping at the visible discolouration around his wrists where Jaemin had held him, far stronger than Jeno gave him credit for. In hindsight, Jeno was lucky to get away with just that - if Jeno had actually tried to kill him, no signs of hesitation present, then Jaemin could have messed him up in the midst of all their turmoil. 

No matter how he looked at it, Jeno had been soft on Jaemin. Too kind and compassionate. If this was anyone else, he would have done it; he would have sunk the blade into his heart and killed him without delay. After all, Jeno has done worse. He has taken lives of people that deserved it - crooks and cheats and the alike - but he also killed people that perhaps never should have been killed. People whose only crime was trying to live.

It wasn’t something he wanted to think about, his hands prickling with the sensation of hot blood all over them, the same sickening bile churning in his stomach. The first time he took a life was under Johnny’s supervision, the older man letting him finish the job he himself started on some drunk that had wronged him. The second time, Johnny was also there. But this time around he simply sat around and had a blade handed to Jeno, telling him to do all the work.

Jeno still remembered the look in his victim’s eyes - fear, anger, betrayal. They were eyes that he knew well, growing up next to them, another child Johnny saved at an auction. He was older than Jeno - a year or two - and he grew disillusioned by the control Johnny had over his life, resenting the man for it without seeing that without Johnny he would be long dead. 

So he betrayed Johnny. He betrayed Jeno. 

But Jeno could never hold it against him. 

Jeno thought him a friend.

A terrible thing to have in his line of work.

Johnny thought that once you killed someone you knew, it only got easier. He comforted Jeno as the youth was bent over by the corpse of his friend, throwing up as his entire body trembled. He felt like he wasn’t in control, his mind and body disconnected.

Johnny praised him. 

Jeno didn’t argue. He didn’t fight back. He just did as told.

If Johnny told him to kill his friend, then Jeno would kill his friend.

But he couldn’t kill Jaemin when he was supposed to.

Jeno caught his reflection in the mirror, horrified by what he saw. Dark circles, matted skin, a sickly disposition. He raised a shaky hand towards his cheek, running his thumb under his eye as if that would soothe and rid him of the dark spots. Yet the only thing it did was stain him with more blood. He jolted, retracting his hand.

He still had until the coronation.

He could still kill Jaemin - he had to kill Jaemin. 

This was just a blip in the grand scheme of things. So what if Jaemin knew? He was willing to die anyway.

Jeno rushed to the adjoining bathroom, spilling his guts out onto the floor. 

He got on his fours, acrid bile pouring out of him, choking him. It burned him from within, hot tears prickling in his eyes as all he could do was hunch over and sob, a cold corpse to his side, his own hands stained with blood.

♤♡◇♧

“Why do you look worse than me?” Jaemin asked the second Jeno stepped foot into his bedroom, a tray with his breakfast in his hold. Jeno knew just how bad he looked, seeing enough of his ghoulish appearance in the small mirror in his room. He had to properly scrub himself clean after what transpired between him leaving Jaemin and fetching his breakfast. “I thought I was the one with death looming over me.”

The Prince was still in bed, lounging on the mattress with his arms spread out. 

Jeno ignored the comment on his appearance, placing the tray down on the bedside table.

Jaemin watched him, intrigued by Jeno’s actions. He was simply doing what he always did in the mornings. As if nothing had changed.

He started to pour the tea out for Jaemin when the Prince finally broke the tense silence. “So are we going to act like nothing happened?” He asked, rolling over on his side but not making any further moves. “Play pretend: you as my retainer and I the Prince you serve? Really?”

Jeno’s hand trembled, spilling a drop of tea on the tray. He halted, deciding the cup was full enough before he handed it over to Jaemin, contemplating his response carefully. After all, what was he meant to do? Jeno had tried to kill him and now they were both here, going on with the routine they had kept up all this time. It offered a semblance of normalcy to them when everything else was chaotic. 

“Do you think that if you make me tea and pretend you didn’t pull a knife on me I’ll just forget everything?” Jaemin continued, pulling himself up and taking the tea cup from Jeno only to place it back down on the bedside table with no intentions of touching it just yet. “Because that won’t happen.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?” Jeno retorted, high strung and tender. He could still taste the sick on his tongue - feel the blood seeping into his skin. His eyes fell on the Prince, noting the thin line across his throat where he had pierced the flesh. It hadn’t been cleaned, the dried speck of crimson a horrid sight no matter how miniscule. “How can we-”

“I’ve known someone was out for me since my mother died,” Jaemin interrupted, the declaration surprisingly firm. “I’ve been expecting it all this time so truly, it does not come as much of a shock to me. If anything, it’s quite nice being able to put a face to my executioner,” he mused, speaking in that odd, annoying tone Jeno was accustomed to from back before Jaemin let his walls slip in front of him. 

Somewhat cocky, somewhat nervous. 

An artful disguise.

“Though I suppose you’re only the hired help and not the real culprit,” Jaemin added with a disappointed slouch of his shoulders. “You wouldn’t know who sent you, would you?”

“I don’t know the client. No.”

Jaemin clicked his tongue. “Oh well,” he sighed. “At least he sent you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What do you think?” Jaemin replied. “I’m still alive, aren’t I? You couldn’t kill me. Not yet at least.” That part was tagged on as a far more sombre utterance, Jaemin’s eyes trailing down to Jeno’s hands, empty for now. “What was the plan anyway? Before I took you by surprise.”

“The coronation,” Jeno replied honestly. There was no point in hiding the truth from Jaemin now. He didn’t think so at least. “Right before.”

The Prince nodded, understanding. “That would cause quite the uproar. Whoever sent you sure does have a flair for the dramatic. Well, I know he does.”

At that, Jeno cocked his brow. 

“What? You don’t think I know who wants me dead?” Jaemin asked, laughing. “Honestly, Jeno, you can’t be this oblivious, right? Who else could possibly have enough sway to hire an assassin on me? Who could get you into the palace without any issues? Some disgruntled Duke? Perhaps. But the answer is far more simple than that.”

“Who?” Jeno asked, already anticipating the answer. 

“My uncle,” Jaemin said. 

“The Regent?” Jeno questioned. Even though he expected that to be what Jaemin said, he still didn’t think it to be rational. “Isn’t it somewhat improper to suspect your own family?”

“That man is no family of mine,” Jaemin declared, distaste on his tongue. “He doesn’t deserve to carry the Na family name, not after what all he has done.” Getting heated, Jaemin got up from bed, closing the distance between him and Jeno, standing too close for comfort. “He’s a cunning fox; far more dangerous than he lets on. And if you wish to kill me by the time my coronation rolls around, you will help me prove just how much of a monster that man is. ”

Jeno’s eyes flicked down to Jaemin’s lips, closer than they had ever been with how little space was left between them. He felt like stepped away, but given Jaemin’s innate ability to keep him frozen in place, all he could do was look back up into Jaemin’s stern eyes. 

“By proving he sent me here to kill you?”

Jaemin gritted his teeth, each second passing until his response dragged out into infinity. 

He stepped away, abandoning his bed and Jeno in lieu of approaching the balcony doors. “Even if we could prove that, I doubt anyone would care. I mean, I don’t even care myself,” he admitted, back turned to Jeno. Open. Clearly a lie. Of course Jaemin cared; he was scared, after all. “It wouldn’t be all that surprising anyway. And besides, most people would probably let it slide; what is the life of a failed Prince worth anyway? No. I don’t care about justice for myself. What I want more than anything is to show the world who Na Hosung really is.”

Last night flashed behind Jeno’s eyes. Jaemin crying. His desperate pleas for Jeno’s help. Just one thing. He just needed help with one thing. Nothing else.

Justice for her.

“Your mother,” Jeno uttered softly, feeling a sharp tug in his heart. 

“Do you know how Na Suhye, the late Queen, my mother, died?” Jaemin asked, glancing over his shoulder back at Jeno. 

“I… I heard it was a health complication.”

That’s what it sounded like when Jaemin described it to him.

“Sudden.”

Jaemin scoffed. Bitter. “Health complications,” he echoed with disdain. “A convenient excuse, isn’t it? You can write off so much by saying she simply had a weak disposition and a frail body as if she couldn’t put countless guards to shame with her strength! Health complications,” he uttered again, sharp and venomous. “I suppose you can say it’s correct if you consider poison a health complication.”

That’s what Giselle said the first time around - that the Queen was poisoned. Whether it was a long standing rumour or if she simply heard it from the young Prince, Jeno didn’t know. 

“My mother was healthy,” Jaemin explained. “She would tell me all these stories of how she and my father met - of how she floored him and ran circles around him. She was… she was full of life. I mean, she would sail the seas as a child and even when she was with my father; nothing could ever snub the spark in her. Until…” He paused, visibly uncomfortable.

Jeno didn’t know why he stepped closer. Why he dared to breach the gap between them.

But he did. And now he was behind Jaemin, still distant, but close. 

“It wasn’t noticeable at first,” Jaemin recounted. “A mild cough at first. Then a fever. And then it all came suddenly. Her body started shutting down one by one, stealing all the life out of her. The doctors were baffled and nobody could explain it away. None of the medicines provided seemed to do anything. It was untraceable,” he explained, hands clenched into fists at his side. “And by the end… She was scared to leave. She knew what happened, and she warned me.” Slowly, he looked back at Jeno, his gaze cold - practically lifeless, bitter and regretful. “You can’t trust anyone. Not even your own kin.”

Jeno froze, an abrupt chill running down his spine. 

“I know she probably never meant for me to take those words to heart,” Jaemin continued, an aerated, forlorn chuckle slipping his lips. “But they stuck with me all these years. So much so that I cut ties with everyone. Jaehyun. Mark. Dejun. Everyone. I lost everyone even though I knew exactly who she was referring to. So much so that I have nobody. Nobody to help me. But it’s better to be safe than sorry, right?”

“And what proof do you have?”

Jaemin smiled, eyes falling to the floor. 

“None,” he admitted. “What evidence could I possibly have from back then? I was a child and he was far smarter than me. Whatever he used - whoever he had to help him - I simply was too young to know. All I have is my own intuition and a spotty memory.”

“Then how am I supposed to help? If the crime has been committed, long forgotten, and all evidence lost, what use is there?”

Jaemin didn’t like that. He spun around on his heel, stepping towards Jeno to grab him by the front of his jacket, yanking him forward. 

“What use? He killed my mother! Doesn’t she deserve justice?” Loud. Brazen. Full of life once again. “If I- If I can’t- Who else will care once I’m gone?” He asked, deflating, eyes shaking. “Who will mourn the life unjustly taken? Who will spare her name and life more than a mere moment of consideration, otherwise a mere footnote in Taesan’s history? I can’t die before the world knows - before the world knows that the Queen they lost had been taken by force.”

All for his mother.

But what about himself? Or had he simply given on himself already?

Who would mourn the Prince anyway?

“And if you can help me… I’ll kill myself for you if that would be easier,” Jaemin assured. “I’ll make it quick and painless.”

Twist and turn. An ache in his chest. Bile burning up his throat. “For who?”

“For you,” Jaemin replied, letting go of Jeno’s blazer. “You help me and I help you. I know you… I can tell you don’t do this for fun. So that will be my parting gift; you’ll earn your freedom without getting your hands dirty. How about that?”

He hated it.

Jeno hated it with a burning passion. 

He could only look at Jaemin and think of the sun catching his honeyed eyes. The way the wind ruffled his black hair. His mischievous smirk and a laugh that Jeno didn’t know enough of. The low drawl of his voice as he recited long, old texts. The way he would switch casually to another language just to catch Jeno by surprise, cutting him off from listening into his own ramblings. The way he would look at Jeno, waiting for a reaction, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

He saw him laying on a large, smooth rock under the sun, kept safe in his secret sanctuary - one which he allowed Jeno into despite knowing exactly who and what he was. He thought of a young man - his friend and maybe something more than that - who was simultaneously welcoming death and fighting against it. Paralysed in fear and sadness, energized with pure love.

How was Jeno meant to accept his death as a gift?

But in the end, he couldn’t let him live. Not if Jeno hoped of making it out alive too. Johnny wouldn’t be all too pleased if Jeno didn’t do the one thing he was entrusted with. Freedom would not be an option after that. 

“Most people would offer money,” Jeno pointed out - his own poor attempt at lightening the mood.

Jaemin chuckled. “I guess so. But even if I could, I don’t reckon that would help? Even if I… Even if I gave you all I had and let you go…”

“He’ll always find me,” Jeno said, the truth heavy on his mind. 

Johnny had made his point clear: you try to run, you die. No matter how far away you are, no matter who you are, he will always get you. Jeno had the honour of killing countless hopeful runaways. But if there was anything Johnny hated the most in the world, it was broken trust.

He trusted Jeno a lot. Enough to send him here.

And because of that, Jeno knew that his failure and desertion would lead him to an agonising end. 

“Right. And with how things are, I doubt I can do anything,” Jaemin mused. “Even if I were to become King…”

What a wild thing to consider.

Jaemin as King, surviving his coronation. 

How… Fascinating. 

“I could always try though,” Jaemin said. “But I… I suppose I would prefer to know that you’re safe for certain than to simply hope,” he admitted, averting his gaze from Jeno, voice soft and tender, warm. “For all that it’s worth, I do like you. A lot,” he said, pushing those last words out like a secret - airy and tender and far too heavy to bear. “Though you’re not meant for a life of servitude; you lack the proper manners.”

“I think I’ve done well enough considering the master,” Jeno retorted, ignoring the pang in his chest at the earlier confession; it wasn’t something he didn’t already know, aware that the Prince considered him a friend, but that was something that he revealed prior to exposing Jeno - the fact that he still meant it hence only carried all the more meaning. “I’m sure even Junmyeon would crack at some point.”

At that, Jaemin laughed in agreement, the sound unguarded. “I’m certain of it,” he said, a bright glimmer of joy sparkling behind his eyes. “I would like to see it though. Shame, really. But oh well.”

Jeno’s brief moment of happiness vanished just like that, constantly reminded that there would be no future for Jaemin to explore. No what ifs. Nothing. 

“Not that it matters,” Jaemin continued. “So? Will you help me?”

It mattered.

Everything mattered when it came to Jaemin and Jeno was a fool to think otherwise.

“How?”

“Well… I can’t say I have a plan,” Jaemin admitted. “All these years I just kind of assumed that I’d be able to catch my uncle when he slips up, but that hasn’t happened yet as far as I’m aware. Actually, I don’t think I even believe that myself,” he said with an awkward, pained chuckle. “I think I just… hoped one day everything will work out. If not… then I would just die?” 

Jeno felt sick.

“I know I sound incompetent and stupid and whatever else there is to say, and I- I know I am arguably very much- What I mean is that I- It just feels like a part of me died a long time ago,” Jaemin confessed, brows scrunched, the realisation just as painful to him as it was to Jeno. “When my mother died, I only had my uncle left. But he… He never liked me; I always knew that, but I still loved him. And then he just-” He sucked in his bottom lip, chewing on the soft cushion, struggling to find the right words. 

Jeno wanted to comfort him, his hands itching to touch the Prince - to stroke his arms and pull him in for an embrace.

But he kept his distance, frozen in place.

He couldn’t dare to break this moment, so fragile like a thin wafer of ice over a frozen lake. Too much pressure and it would crack, plunging Jeno into freezing water.

“I still held onto the belief that maybe he wasn’t a bad person, but he made it so difficult. He hated me and he hated my mother. And I… I had nobody else. He put on the image of a grieving brother and a caring uncle and it fooled everyone. Who was going to listen to a child anyway? If I cried it was because I was still sad over my mother’s death. If I complained I was just being difficult. It was easier to shut up and just hope that maybe… maybe someone would notice and help me,” Jaemin continued, wrapping his arms around himself.

Jeno pictured him then - not as the Prince he was now but as a child, alone in a palace which was too large for just him. 

A youth who had lost his spark, praying that maybe someone would see his cry for help and listen to him. Yet nobody did, instead seeing a child riddled with grief and nothing else. It would pass with time. All things healed with time. 

But it only got worse.

Why did nobody help? Why did no adult act like an adult? Why did they allow a lone child to suffer? Why did everyone fail him?

“He cut me off. I cut myself off. It worked out perfectly for him,” Jaemin added. “For a while we didn’t even talk. There was a period of time where the only person I talked to was my nanny, but even then I was practically mute. And when I did start speaking again it seemed like nobody wanted to listen to me in the first place. After all, I was too young for any meaningful conversation. The royal court certainly wasn't going to listen to an eleven year old about what policies to implement.”

Jaemin spoke with a nervous cadence, practically rambling, voice raising up a pitch as he battled with himself to not cry. Anything but more tears.

Jeno wouldn’t have held it against him. 

“Besides, my uncle he… He’s also done a great job at tarnishing my image, making me seem unfavourable among the court; nobody wants to get involved with me, and so, no alliances,” he explained. “Maybe if I-” Jaemin paused, interrupted by a bitter chuckle. “You know, the closer I get to dying, the more I realise just how much of my life I wasted.”

The confession was a brutally raw thing, unprompted but necessary. 

Jaemin looked around his room - the messy bed, the balcony, his bookshelves, his desk, the fireplace and the mantle lined with figures and a lone picture frame. He considered all around him, a regretful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“I’ve done nothing but wait for death,” Jaemin stated. “I have no relationships. Nothing to my name but a list of tragedies I played a part in forging. The most I’ve done is stare at the palace accounts to find something, but all I have is what’s in front of me. It’s pathetic, isn’t it?”

It was.

But Jeno couldn’t blame Jaemin for it. 

Jaemin lost his mother, aware that she didn’t pass away naturally. The culprit was his own uncle - his only living relative and now guardian. How was he meant to live under the same roof, constantly on edge that he was next? Shut off from the world and set up to fail. A child too young to rule, all opportunities to grow into the next King snatched from right under his nose and the only times he was given a chance to prove himself he was instead humiliated. 

Could he have done something? Could he have fought for himself? Maybe. Maybe not. Jeno didn’t know. It was easy to look back and point out all the flaws in Jaemin’s actions, but Jeno couldn’t find the heart to do that. A part of him believed that Jaemin had been sabotaged - that if things were even just slightly different then he might have stood a fighting chance. 

Maybe if his mother didn’t leave him with such a haunting warning.

“You can’t trust anyone. Not even your own kin.”

What child wouldn’t be horrified by that?

Vulnerable and grieving, he took it to heart. A warning for her son became a mantra that Jaemin echoed for the rest of his life. 

He could have done things differently, but if Jeno was in his position, maybe he would have also ended up just like him. Maybe he would have laid down and waited for death to take him away, powerless to a force so much greater than him.

“At some point the excuse of being scared just doesn’t work anymore,” Jaemin said. “As a child? Yes. But I’m not a child anymore. I should have just- Sometimes I just want to scream,” he admitted. “At the royal court meetings; sometimes I wonder what would happen if I just screamed and cried and shouted and just- I- I want them to know and see. What if I accused my uncle of being a murderer? Would anyone care to listen, or would I be dragged away and locked up? The Prince has lost his mind, poor thing. I’m sure my uncle would love that too.”

Jaemin chuckled, no joy in the airy exhale whatsoever.

“He’d have me put down, calling it a merciful kill. And everyone would eat it up.”

He couldn’t bear it.

He couldn’t stand the ache. The tightness in his chest. 

“I’ll help you,” Jeno declared. “In whatever way I can, I will help you.”

Surprised, Jaemin looked up at Jeno, his eyes wide. It took him a moment to process what he just heard, a myriad of emotions briskly swimming across his face, in the end settling on what Jeno could only describe as gratitude. 

“I don’t know how, but I’m sure we can collectively figure something out,” Jeno continued. “I mean, how hard can it be to drag out a confession from that man?”

It took Jaemin a long minute to respond, wondering if perhaps he misheard. But as he looked at Jeno, he was proven wrong: Jeno had offered his help and he wasn’t backing down. So Jaemin took his chance - the one he had been waiting for half his life.

“I guess we’ll have to figure it out together,” Jaemin mused, allowing himself to smile. “It’s a deal then?”

“It’s a deal,” Jeno confirmed. 

Hearing that, Jaemin extended his hand out to Jeno. Amused, Jeno accepted it, shaking on their agreement. 

“It’s a pleasure doing business with you,” Jaemin said, causing Jeno to laugh this time around. 

♤♡◇♧

He covered the cut with a thin, flowy scarf - decorative and unsuspecting. But Jeno knew what was underneath, and the truth was that it made him uncomfortable. 

He could have killed Jaemin.

But he didn’t.

Jeno left Jaemin with the music tutor, not having to worry about the Prince doing anything egregious in the lesson he actually enjoyed. As Jaemin filled the room with a masterful piano rendition of an old classic, Jeno was called down to a meeting with the Regent. He wasn’t the only one due there, joined by Junmyeon as well as a myriad of other important members of staff. They were there to discuss the coronation that was now far too soon for comfort.

Jaemin’s birthday would fall soon, and then a week after that, he would become King.

He was meant to become King. 

Just how likely that was to happen, however, was left uncertain. 

Jeno checked on Jaemin one last time before he left, hovering in the doorway, feet heavy. It was only when Jaemin caught his eyes, a puzzled - maybe somewhat amused - look riddling his face, that Jeno finally pushed himself forward. He probably shouldn’t make the Regent wait too long. 

He passed down the corridors he had now accustomed himself to, moving around the palace with great ease as if he had been there all his life. The more that he discovered of the intricate and winding paths, the more he realised just how easy it would be for someone to get lost or avoid being seen, simply taking the paths less travelled. 

As he approached the designated meeting room, Jeno looked at the walls and the paintings and tapestries lining them. Just as Jaemin had said: no portraits of the late King and Queen. No portraits of the Prince. If it was all about bad omens of having the dead on display, then why was Jaemin nowhere to be seen? He was alive, wasn’t he? Or had he been a walking corpse from the moment the Regent took over, refusing to have the young man haunting the palace he was confined in until his execution?

It didn’t sit right with Jeno.

Whilst a part of Jeno still didn’t want to think that the Regent was behind the hit on Jaemin’s head, he also couldn’t push away the nagging voice at the back of his head that told him that it was the only rational explanation. But to not only kill your own sister, but also your own nephew? Could a person truly be so sick and twisted?

Perhaps.

After all, Jeno has seen quite a variety of depravity in his life. He’s seen just how evil people can be - the things they would do to get ahead in life. And if Na Hosung knew for certain that the crown would never be his as long as Jaemin was alive, then maybe getting rid of the obstacle in his way was the only way around it.

But that type of betrayal was quite frankly abhorrent. Unforgivable. 

Jeno paused, his eyes fixing on a large tapestry. It was an ancient thing, the colours dark and muted - maroon reds and earthy tones. Clearly it had been taken care of well and expertly patched up in certain areas, some of the threads used noticeably different - at least to Jeno’s eyes. Its sheer size commanded attention, standing out amidst all the other frames and ornaments, being the odd one out.

Despite the lavish and grand appearance, it was nothing more than a map. An incorrect map at that. 

Taesan and Onyan as one, the latter’s borders thin like any other district depicted. Not thick and certain like another country. 

It was an odd thing to have hanging in the palace, and even weirder to look at. Something about its presence unnerved Jeno, filling him with a sense of unease. He knew enough about his nation’s history to understand that the borders that were depicted with thin, insignificant threads were fought for, won over with great loss. His home was independent. It had its own culture. Its own history. 

The map was jarring. 

Unpleasant. 

Wrong.

But Jeno didn’t have time to stare at maps all day. And so, he resumed his walk to the tea room the Regent decided to hold the meeting in.

Jeno arrived before a few of the other staff members, led into the room by a guard. 

He greeted the Regent with a courteous bow before he found his way next to Junmyeon, the older retainer and advisor already present. 

Seeing Jeno arrive, Junmyeon offered him a warm smile, beckoning him to step closer to stand by his side.

“How are you?” He asked, keeping his voice down to not go above the ambient chatter in the room as everyone waited around for the Regent.

Jeno, all things considered, couldn’t exactly respond truthfully. As it stood, he was not doing well, riddled with a deeply rooted sense of anxiety and unease, skin pale as he fought hard not to spill the contents of his guts onto the floor. He thought of Jaemin whom he had left behind and the fact that he had nearly killed him. He thought of how they were meant to work together, but how in the end he would still have to kill him.

Dread and anxiety prickled at his skin.

He wasn’t doing well, even if he put up a decent act.

“I’m all good, thank you,” Jeno replied. “How about yourself?”

“All good on my end too,” Junmyeon said. “Though I have had a particularly busy morning. Part of the job, I suppose.”

Jeno hummed. “The Regent seems to be a busy man; it only makes sense that you are too.”

“Perhaps too busy at times,” Junmyeon mused. “Though I did get to see the Prince earlier. Is he alright?”

“Why wouldn’t he be?”

Junmyeon pointed to his neck, acid churning in Jeno’s stomach. “Odd choice for a scarf this time of year. Does he perhaps have a sore throat?”

“Oh… That. Yes, he woke up feeling slightly under the weather,” Jeno explained. “Nothing to worry about though.”

“Well, even if he says so, it’s better to be safe than sorry,” the older man pointed out. “You never know when a mild cough can morph into something far worse. I’ll mention to the maids to get a herbal mix ready for him - just in case. It might not taste as nice as his usual tea, but it’s best if he drinks it.”

“Thank you. I’ll make sure of it.”

After that, they didn’t have to wait long for the rest to arrive, kicking off the meeting promptly. 

“As you are aware, Prince Jaemin will be turning of age soon,” the man started, taking a sip of tea casually. “We will be holding a celebration at the palace - no expenses spared; after all, you only turn twenty-one once.” 

Something about the way he said it came off as… Well, odd to Jeno, yet to the other staff members it seemed endearing - an old man reminiscing on the years gone by, and an uncle being considerate of his nephew. Jeno glanced over to Junmyeon, finding the man smiling. Then he checked the woman to his other side, seeing the same reaction from her. 

Maybe Jeno was being far too sceptical.

Or maybe the act just didn’t work on him. 

“Most of the preparations are already planned and carefully accounted for, as such, the birthday celebration is due to be a spectacular one,” the man continued, his tone laced with an almost audible insincerity. “However, I will need everyone here to pull their weight.”

He went on to discuss the finer details - the food, logistics, decorations, guest list, so on and so forth. This also spilled into the coronation itself, the course of action already set out. 

Jeno looked at the Regent and wondered why exactly the man sent him here in the first place.

All these years, Jeno had learned to never question the jobs he was given. After all, it was all up to Johnny anyway, and if he deemed the task and pay good enough, he would accept. Perhaps when discussing the deal, Johnny believed that there was no reason to query the long assignment timeline nor the odd nature of it. Maybe he even found the explanation - if there even was one - satisfactory. 

Why the long game?

Just why did Jeno have to play house for months before the coronation?

Something told him that there was more to it. More than just surveillance. More than just a means of pulling wool over Jaemin’s eyes.

Something more nefarious. 

“As for my nephew,” the Regent said, this time addressing Jeno directly, “I trust that you will keep him in line. No more messing around. He is to attend his fittings, trial dinners, and - closer to the date - the trial coronation. After all, we can’t have anything going off script. Understood?”

Jeno nodded, ignoring the swirling in his gut. “Of course, your Highness.”

“Good. In that case: you’re all dismissed.”

♤♡◇♧

Jaemin stood on the tailor’s step riser, encircled by full body mirrors as the tailor - a stern looking older man by the name of Byun Seokyoon as opposed to the in house seamstress who Jeno would argue was far more agreeable and perhaps even skilled than the outside hire - took Jaemin’s measurements. He worked quickly, not wasting so much as a single movement, knowing exactly what he wanted to do. 

When he saw the pair walk in, he initially asked Jeno to leave, not deeming his presence necessary. However, Jaemin argued otherwise, insisting that Jeno stay throughout their scheduled appointment. 

In all honesty, Jeno had no reason to be there, but he also had nothing else to do. And so, he stood around and watched as Jaemin slipped out of his blazer, remaining in the linen shirt underneath. It was loose - something which caused the tailor to complain since he had to fight against the fabric to get the correct measurements. At one point, noticing his frustration, Jaemin suggested stripping.

“I don’t mind,” Jaemin assured, not looking at Seokyoon. Instead, the sharp eyes in the reflection of the mirror were set on Jeno.

When Seokyoon decided to agree, Jaemin took off his shirt, chest bare. 

Not a bad view. 

Jeno didn’t feel the need to look away, meeting Jaemin’s humoured and knowing smirk in the mirror with a grin of his own. A peculiar exchange, teasing and laced with something more dangerous. Something which Jeno knew he should ignore. Yet something which was too strong to push aside. Stronger than him.

Amidst the measurements being taken, there was a knock on the door. 

“You’ve received a letter, your Highness.”

Jaemin took it and dismissed the messenger, causing the tailor to grumble with the way Jaemin was moving around too much. Jeno thought Jaemin had the right to scold him for it, but he didn’t, instead carefully studying the envelope, paying great attention to the wax seal.

“Anything of note?” Jeno asked, curious. 

“It’s the Xiao family seal,” Jaemin mused. “Perhaps Dejun wishes to engage in idle chatter again. He does send a fair amount of letters for someone who rarely ever gets any responses,” he added, the regret lacing the last part not getting lost on Jeno. Jaemin considered the letter and then looked into the mirror in front of him. “How much longer?”

“We’re nearly done, your Highness,” Seokyoon assured. “Just a minute now.”

Jaemin let the man work, more than glad when it was finally over. He put his shirt back on with Jeno’s help, making use of him since he was there anyway. 

Seokyoon excused himself, and only the pair remained. 

“I’m feeling peckish," Jaemin declared. 

“Lunch should only be two hours from now,” Jeno pointed out.

“Are you going to make me read one of Dejun’s melodramatic letters without a snack? How cruel.”

Jeno exhaled. “Tea and cakes?”

“You know me so well.”

Jeno did his part and called for the requested snacks to be brought out into the gardens for the Prince to enjoy in the pleasant midday weather. The skies weren’t clear, offering some semblance of protection from the relentless sun. A cool breeze also came in from the North, carrying with it a scent of the salty ocean. 

Jaemin made himself comfortable in the gazebo tucked away further down in the garden, surrounded by vibrant green shrubbery and neatly cut hedges. Jeno waited there with him, offered a seat by the Prince but opting to lean against the surrounding rails instead. 

“I won’t bite,” Jaemin assured when Jeno still didn’t sit next to him. 

“I’ll take my chances,” Jeno responded, earning himself a dramatic eyeroll from the Prince. 

When the tea and cakes were delivered, however, Jeno did inch closer. He felt like he could get away with a lot now, even if a part of him feared of stepping out of line even now that Jaemin didn’t actually expect him to act all prim and proper around him. In that regard, Jeno was caught in an uncomfortable spot, not quite sure how to behave around Jaemin. After all, he still had to carry out his duties, but to what extent?

Seeing him hovering, Jaemin lifted his tea cup and placed it down on the table, leaving the small plate that was underneath it empty. He then picked out a cake from the tiered display and placed it down on the plate, handing it over to Jeno. 

“You should have just told them to bring an extra plate,” Jaemin mused, glancing up at Jeno. 

“I’ll remember next time.”

Jaemin chuckled, shaking his head. “I admire your commitment to the bit.”

“Last time I checked, I still have to maintain appearances. Unless you wish for your uncle to grow suspicious?”

“Oh? So you do think it’s him that sent you?”

Jeno considered his response. “I’m not… I’m not against the theory,” he admitted. “It definitely makes the most sense unless we’re missing someone. Do you think Marquees Kim would actually send an assassin for you?”

“He’s petty, but not that petty,” Jaemin argued. “He also isn’t violent; he’d prefer to sort things out more tactfully. So no, I don’t think it’s him.”

“And Earl Xiao? Wouldn’t he want to make his son the King?”

Jaemin hummed, glancing down at the still unopened letter on the table. “I suppose that is an option,” he replied, albeit with hesitation. He sighed, reaching for the envelope, looking down at the seal. “It’s funny, really, the way Dejun keeps sending letters. We used to… We used to be close back in the day. Then when my mother died, his family was extremely kind. But my uncle saw an opportunity - and a threat in that kindness - and decided to cut all contact. One day he just told me that we wouldn’t be visiting the Xiao’s going forward,” he explained, a glimmer of remorse twitching across his expression. 

Isolated at every step.

“I thought it would pass, but I was forbidden from seeing Dejun alone,” Jaemin continued. “We grew apart - at least I did, finding it useless trying to reach out. But he still tried. He still tries. Maybe out of genuine kindness, or maybe out of pity. Or maybe it’s all an act as well.”

“Perhaps he does care about you,” Jeno stated. “Is that so hard to believe?”

Jaemin smiled. “What does it matter now?” He asked. “Besides, it’s easier this way. It’s easier to let go when you don’t have anything holding you back. It’s the same with Jaehyun and Mark,” he admitted. “I just hope they don’t hate me too much for it.”

Isolated on his own volition. 

“Anyway, let’s have a read, shall we?” Jaemin resumed, extending his hand out to Jeno, waiting for something. When Jeno didn’t react, he looked at the man. “Well come on, you still have that knife on you, don’t you?”

“Why-”

“To open the letter?” Jaemin replied as if it were absolutely obvious. “Or are you worried I’ll turn on you? I would hope you know better than that now.” There was something strange in the way he spoke - something more hidden beneath his words. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Well I- Alright,” Jeno exhaled, reaching into his inside pocket to pull out the dagger - a blade far too large to be a letter opener. Nevertheless, Jaemin used it to cut through the envelope, pulling out the folded up letter.

He began reading it, his relaxed expression growing darker with each passing line.

Until he came to an abrupt halt, putting the letter down.

“What is it?” Jeno asked.

Chapter Text

It was the first time Jeno experienced rain ever since he crossed the border into Taesan. 

Dressed in all black mourning clothes, Jaemin stood close to the wall, his expression solemn and eyes downcast. The day had dragged on, every single second feeling like a lifetime of its own. The air was tense and stiff, suffocating whether in or outside. 

Jeno kept a watchful eye on the Prince, oscillating between trying to offer him some sort of companionship and leaving him alone, unable to find the right words to say to the younger man. Because what could he really say when he didn’t even understand the severity of Jaemin’s own turbulent emotions. 

“What is it?” Jeno asked, the shift in Jaemin’s demeanour too drastic not to query.

And Jaemin didn’t answer him. Instead, he read the letter again. And again.

And again.

“Earl Xiao is dead.”

It was a complicated thing, too tender to touch and Jeno knew that instantly; no matter what Jaemin said in the past, how he presented his opinion about the Earl, Jeno could tell from the crack in his eyes and the falter of his smile that he didn’t take the news lightly. Any disagreements or conflict that may have been between them ceased to exist as Jaemin uttered the bitter truth, shrinking in on himself, turning into a child right in front of Jeno’s eyes. 

Jaemin was quiet.

Quiet other than his outburst towards the Regent which Jeno had the pleasure of witnessing. An outburst which Jeno would say was justified, standing off to the side as Jaemin raised his voice at the older man. 

When Jaemin received the news of the Earl’s passing from Dejun, he stormed to the Regent’s office and announced he was attending the funeral, the invitation clearly stated at the end of the lengthy, heartfelt letter. And that was where he learned that the Regent didn’t like that idea. In fact, he seemed like he was annoyed that Jaemin was made aware of the passing in the first place. 

As if he already knew about it.

And perhaps he did. But if that were the case, news had to have spread fast. 

Rightfully upset, Jaemin brought about a storm, making all sorts of threats towards his uncle if he didn’t let him leave the palace.

The Regent looked at Jeno, expecting him to put an end to Jaemin’s screaming fest, red in the face. “Are you not going to stop him?” He asked, the question tickling Jeno because honestly, did he think Jeno was a miracle worker? “Are you going to let him keep talking to me like this?”

Jeno cleared his throat, glancing over at Jaemin. “Whilst I do agree that his Highness may be taking it one step too far in voicing his disagreement, I do believe he is rightfully frustrated,” he replied, taking Jaemin’s side - something which he came to realise was a rare occurrence in the Prince’s life. “I believe that there is no reason that the Prince should not be able to attend the late Earl Xiao’s funeral to pay his respects. Besides, considering the Prince’s current reputation,” he added, surprising both Jaemin and the Regent, “it would also be beneficial for him to show his face; after all, a member of the royal court has passed away. How would it look if the Prince decided not to show up?”

Junmyeon had been present, and after Jeno glanced at him, he felt at ease as he noticed that the older man agreed with him.

“What Jeno says is correct. And given the history between the royal family at the Xiao’s, it only seems right that the Prince pays his respects,” Junmyeon said, swinging the pendulum in Jeno and Jaemin’s favour. “I understand that you may have wished to spare the Prince the grief by withholding this information from him, however he deserves to cope with his feelings and grief like any other person would. Don’t you think so?”

In the end, Jaemin was granted permission to attend the funeral. Begrudgingly. 

And like that, Jaemin was at the Xiao’s residence where the funeral was taking place, the man buried on a plot of ancestral land. Jaemin gave a brief speech, the words planned out but obviously not what he wanted to say. If he even knew what he wanted to say in the first place. Jeno wasn’t sure he did.

Once the burial was done, the guests were invited into the interior of the Xiao mansion, welcomed with food and drinks as well as live, sombre music. 

Jaemin didn’t know what to do with himself.

And Jeno stayed by his side. Because he had to. And because he wanted to.

It was only after remaining at the sidelines for some time that they were approached. Jeno noticed them first - an older woman as well as a man that looked to be his age. The Xiao widow and child. They had briefly acknowledged one another before the funeral rites, however with the amount of guests pouring in, the time to speak was limited.

Until now. 

The older woman caught sight of Jaemin first, eyes lighting up as soon as they fell upon him. Jaemin too, seemed to perk up at the sight of her, uncertain and perhaps even scared. He visibly tensed, briefly glancing over at Jeno as if to ask him for help. But help regarding what, Jeno wasn’t sure. 

Next to her was Dejun, eyes sunken and tired, skin pasty and sickly looking. He seemed tired. Drained of life.

Jeno saw the way Jaemin squirmed as they approached, both of them locking onto the Prince with an intensity which Jaemin wanted nothing to do with, terrified by it. But he couldn’t move. He couldn’t run. He couldn’t make a scene. 

And as it stood, Jeno didn’t think he wanted to ignore the pair - at least the part of him that cared didn’t want to run away. Because Jeno saw just how Jaemin had been during the funeral; he saw the way he swallowed, nervous and uncertain and filled with dread as he had to get up and speak - words which rang hollow, planned out by his uncle who didn’t trust Jaemin enough to speak from the heart. Jeno saw the way he hesitated over the script, gripping it tight enough to tear the paper. He saw all the little things that Jaemin would have otherwise wanted to hide. 

Jeno knew Jaemin.

And he knew that he cared.

Everything that he had said about Earl Xiao - about his history with the man and his family - was all Jeno needed to know that Jaemin was devastated by his death. It wasn’t just the death of a member of the royal court, but the death of someone he knew. It was someone that, even if it was a long time ago now, saw him grown up and seemingly allowed him to flourish, giving him the time and space. If his mother saw the Earl as someone trustworthy, then perhaps he couldn’t have been that bad of a man in the first place. 

Jeno thought of the meeting of all the officials - the first time he had seen Earl Xiao - and remembered the man trying to reach Jaemin. Now that he looked back, there was a desperation there. He had been reaching out, but it wasn’t enough. Maybe if Jaemin looked back - maybe if he tried to fight back and followed after the Earl - then he could have listened to exactly what the man wanted to tell him. Perhaps it was insignificant at the time, but it would have been something. 

What even was the last thing the two men had said to each other? When was the last time they had properly met?

Just how did the Earl live on in Jaemin’s memory now?

“You Highness,” Countess Xiao said, meeting Jaemin with a polite nod. Her voice was raspy and strained, fighting off the tears which had no doubt been spilled ever since her husband passed away. “Jaemin,” he reiterated, finding that the use of the Prince’s name came out far more naturally.

It startled Jaemin, but not negatively so. 

Jaemin straightened his posture, looking up at the woman dressed in all black, a veil covering her eyes. He seemed scared. Sorrowful. Remorseful. “I- Countess Xiao I- I truly am sorry,” he said, bowing his head to the woman. “I truly am.”

“Thank you,” she replied with a noticeable tremble in her words, yet one which was covered up with a genuine, soft smile. “To think that we would see each other again after all this time at a funeral of all things,” she mused. “My dear hubby would have laughed.”

“I-” Jaemin froze, unable to find the right words to say. His eyes fell on Dejun next to the Countess, the colour draining from his face. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, dear,” the woman assured. “Nobody could have known.”

Jeno glanced over at Jaemin, observing the man from the sidelines. The words were true, yet he knew that that wasn’t what Jaemin meant. He wasn’t sorry for the death - at least that wasn’t what he was referring to now. What he was apologetic for ran far deeper than that, and it became all the more apparent whenever his attention flickered to the youth opposite him, the man broken and tired and more than anything, seeking some sort of comfort. 

“Though I- I suppose it is a shame that we couldn’t have met under better circumstances,” the woman continued. “It would have been such a pleasure to have you over and- Perhaps I- Oh dear,” the Countess brought a gloved finger up to her eye, dabbing at the tears which had now begun to spill out. “I do apologise, it’s just that I-”

“It’s alright,” Jaemin assured, taking out a decorative handkerchief from his chest pocket, offering it to the woman. “It’s alright.”

“Thank you dear,” she said, accepting the delicate fabric. She wiped her tears with it, only to find that as soon as they came, she couldn’t hold them in for much longer. “I- I think I will go,” she declared. “Perhaps have a drink. Please forgive me.”

“Nothing to apologise for,” Jaemin reassured, but the woman still felt the need to shake her head, now struggling to stop herself from crying. Before she could burst out into uncontrollable sobs, she left Jaemin and headed out to a more secluded area of the residence, closing herself in one of the rooms. 

Jaemin sighed, eyes trailing after the disappearing figure. 

Now it was just the three of them.

The air between Jaemin and Dejun was tense. Unbreachable. So much so that Jeno felt like he couldn’t breathe despite not even being involved. 

In an attempt to get the two to do something, Jeno cleared his throat, urging Jaemin to at the very least acknowledge Dejun’s presence. Easier said than done apparently. However, after another nudge from Jeno, the Prince finally did what was necessary. He clenched his jaw, taking in a deep, shaky breath before he finally turned his attention to Dejun, something raw and tender written across his face.

“Dejun, I- My condolences,” he said, the words stifled and reserved. It wasn’t what he wanted to say. It wasn’t everything he wanted to say. And that’s exactly why it pained him so much. “How are you-”

Jaemin was interrupted by Dejun simply throwing himself at Jaemin, his arms wrapping around the Prince, face buried against his neck. It startled Jaemin, body rigid and frozen in place with his hands hovering in shock, hesitant to so much as move an inch. 

Dejun trembled.

He cried.

The soft, heartbroken sounds were muffled against the fabric of Jaemin’s black blazer, stained with the man’s pouring tears. 

Jaemin didn’t know what to do.

He looked over at Jeno, as if he could in some way give him an answer.

But he didn’t have anything to say. Deep down, Jaemin already knew what he had to do. What he wanted to do.

“Jaemin,” Dejun called out, clinging onto the Prince for dear life like they were more than strangers, even if the way Jaemin had talked about him to Jeno would have led him to believe they were just that. There was a distance between them, but one that had been placed there retrospectively. A gap which shouldn’t have been there in the first place. “Jaemin,” he called again. 

And Jaemin couldn’t hold back any longer.

He couldn’t pretend.

He embraced Dejun back, holding him firm in his arms. His fingers dug into the man’s jacket, clutching at it as they both proceeded to pull in each other closer and closer. It was a tender, vulnerable moment which Jeno knew better than to judge. Not that he would do that in the first place - at least not now, knowing just how much a single hug from someone else must have meant to Jaemin.

Jeno did, however, mind the occasional glances shot towards the Prince and Dejun by curious onlookers. As such, Jeno decided to shield the two with his body, stepping in front of them so that it would be harder to see what the two were doing. Perhaps it made it even more suspicious, but Jeno didn’t entirely care. What mattered was that Jaemin didn’t flinch away. That he allowed himself to feel and accept the touch of another.

Even if that someone wasn’t Jeno.

Not that that mattered in the slightest. 

Not at all.

As Jeno protected the two, Jaemin protected Dejun, holding him in an encompassing embrace, firm and strong and kind. Desperate yet gentle. 

And they simply held on until Dejun felt like he could pull away and look at Jaemin, his face stained with tears. Raw and wounded, Dejun didn’t avert his gaze, holding onto the moment with determination. 

“I’m sorry,” Jaemin uttered again. “For everything.”

Dejun sucked his lips into a thin line, reeling in some of the tears which had spilled, not wanting to attract any more attention to himself. Jeno couldn’t blame him for it, noticing all the guests that were staring on like vultures as if tears weren’t expected from someone who had just lost a loved one. But it probably was more than that; Dejun was with the Prince of all people, their relationship a curious one. 

“Well, I suppose you had your reasons,” Dejun admitted, albeit with a tinge of bitterness. “Though at least a response to one of my earlier letters would have been appreciated.”

“I know.”

Dejun scoffed, wiping his face with the sleeve of his jacket. “It was actually my father’s idea,” he stated. “The letters, I mean. I know when my presence is unwanted, so after the fifth time of no response, I wanted to drop it. But my father insisted,” he continued, causing Jaemin to suck in a breath. “He reckoned you were all alone and that even if you never said a thing, you might appreciate knowing there was someone still out there that was willing to give you their time.”

“I- I didn’t know,” Jaemin uttered, glancing down at his feet. “After everything I just assumed he was… indifferent.”

“He was fond of you,” Dejun declared. “I- I’m not sure if you had a chance to speak to my father before he- before this, but he had faith in you as the future King. And I-” Dejun swallowed, nervously looking around, going as far as to stare Jeno down. He hesitated. “Can he be trusted?” Dejun asked, turning to Jaemin. 

“Who? Jeno?” Jaemin queried, surprised. “Yes. I- I’d say he’s the only person I trust as of now.”

That definitely made Jeno feel a certain type of way. Though he didn’t get much time to consider exactly what that feeling was by the time Dejun reacted.

Dejun hummed. “Alright. Then I have something to say. But not here.”

“Pardon?”

“Just follow me.”

“Huh?”

Dejun simply reached for Jaemin’s hand and pulled him forward, urging him to follow. Jaemin staggered forward but promptly picked up his step after Dejun, looking over his shoulder at Jeno to get him to join as well. They were in this together now. Even if the circumstances which brought them here were unconventional at best. 

The three men walked up the main staircase, leaving all the other guests behind as the wake was limited to the ground floor only. Who was going to stop Dejun from doing as he pleased in his home? If anyone noticed them go, then they just had to leave them be. 

Dejun led them along corridors which Jaemin vaguely remembered from his childhood, each turn awakening a new memory which he thought was long gone. But there he was, aged seven, running around the hallways as he was chased by Dejun, the two boys playing tag across the residence. They smashed a vase, once. Or maybe twice. 

“In here,” Dejun said, opening the door to what Jaemin was certain was Earl Xiao’s office. 

They poured inside. 

Dejun shut the door behind them.

Jaemin had been here before; as a child, his mother would frequently visit the Earl and Countess, and not wanting to leave Jaemin alone, she would bring him along. Given that the pair also had a child his age, they would spend their time together whilst the adults did all the talking. But even then, Jaemin would run to his mother at times, hugging her leg as she stood in the Earl’s office.

He couldn’t remember how exactly the office looked back then, always too preoccupied with his mother than the decor. But the colours were the same, he thought. The desk was just as tall and heavy, littered with far too many things to be considered neat. The walls were also lined with a myriad of framed paintings. 

Jaemin’s breath hitched, eyes landing on a canvas he never expected to see.

Had that always been there?

“Is that…”

Dejun glanced over to where Jaemin’s eyes had fallen. Jeno did the same, finding what seemed to be a family portrait. Jeno recognised the face of the woman, lips forming a small o as he realised what - who - he was looking at. Na Suhye sat down on a chair, radiating with light and joy as she held a baby in her arms. Behind her stood the late King. Jeno never really knew what he looked like, but now as he observed the painting, he thought that the man resembled Jaemin from the cut of his jaw and the line of his brow.

Jaemin had his mother’s eyes, but he wore his father’s face. 

“Yes,” Dejun replied. “My father had this brought in years ago,” he explained, stopping to look at the painting. “I heard that the Regent got rid of most of the paintings within the palace; that’s why my father has this. Is that true?”

Jaemin nodded, visibly choked up. “He- There’s nothing left of my parents,” he admitted.

“Oh… Well, if you want this-”

“No,” Jaemin interrupted. “At least- Not now. It’s probably safer here than with me. At least now I know there’s still something out there of them.”

Jeno continued to look up at the painting, a sense of melancholy seeping into his bones the longer he observed. Just what happened to make everything fall apart?

“Alright,” Dejun said. “I’ll make sure to keep this safe for you.”

“Thank you. But umm, why do we need the privacy?”

“Right, that,” Dejun uttered, drawing all eyes on him. “Well, as I said: my father was fond of you. He believed that you would make a good King, and I- well, I believe that that sentiment is what got him killed.”

“Killed?” Jaemin echoed. 

“Yes: killed,” Dejun assured. “I don’t believe my father died naturally. And I- I know that I probably sound insane and grief stricken but I swear I know that my father was killed! I just- I just don’t know how but I know. Jaemin I know it. Can you- can you believe me?”

Jeno glanced between the two.

Did Dejun know about Jaemin’s mother? Did he know that Jaemin believed her to have been poisoned? Or was he simply asking for his faith and help?

Jeno met Jaemin’s eyes, finding a complicated swirl of emotions behind them. 

In Dejun, Jaemin was met with a reflection of himself.

“I… I don’t know what happened but… If you tell me then I- I will listen,” Jaemin replied. 

“That’s better than nothing,” Dejun uttered. “Even my mother doesn’t want to listen to me. I can understand but- but I really don’t think this was natural.”

“Then what? Poisoning?” Jaemin asked. 

“That’s probably the only explanation,” Dejun replied. “I’ll admit that I have very little to go off with, but my father didn’t die of a heart attack - at least not a natural one. It had to be someone else’s doing.”

Jeno thought of Earl Xiao. His appearance. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Dejun interrupted. “But my father was healthy. Did he perhaps indulge himself from time to time? Yes: I won’t deny that. However he was athletic, even if he didn’t look it. He knew his limits. And my father had no underlying health conditions. Even if he did drink a fair amount.”

Jaemin glanced at Jeno, seeking his input. Surprised, Jeno pointed to himself, causing Jaemin to nod. Noticing this exchange, Dejun furrowed his brow at the pair, confused. 

Of course, Jeno understood where Jaemin was coming from. After all, an assassin sent after the Prince of all people probably had a fair share of other murders under his belt (not that Jeno was entirely proud of that). Maybe he could offer something to the conversation. 

“Did your father show any symptoms?” Jeno asked, startling Dejun.

“He talks,” Dejun mused.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Jaemin added. 

Jeno frowned. 

“Symptoms… Well I- I suppose that there were odd things happening,” Dejun stated. “My father seemed more lively than ever, if I’m being honest. He would stay up throughout the night. At some point it came across as restlessness; he couldn’t sleep and he would kind of… twitch?”

“And he was like this all the way up to his death?” Jeno questioned.

Dejun hummed. “He tried to go to sleep and then- then my mother- she-” He paused, face scrunching with discomfort. “She couldn’t help.”

So he found a new burst of energy and couldn’t handle it? That sounded… familiar. 

“Has your father been taking anything?”

“Pardon?” Dejun asked, sounding rather offended. “Whatever you are insinuating, my father did not engage in drug use. To suggest that-”

“I apologise, but that’s not what I meant,” Jeno said. “What I meant is: did your father start… taking supplements or anything like that? Something new? Or, perhaps, did something he already consume change suppliers?”

Jaemin raised his eyebrows, looking at Jeno with intrigue. 

“I- I’m not sure,” Dejun admitted. 

“Then is there someone among your staff that’s new? Or perhaps someone that seems… disgruntled? Someone that looks like they would be willing to slip poison in your father’s food or drink?”

“I- I don’t know,” Dejun replied. 

Jeno sighed, looking over at Jaemin. They were alike; both so certain, but lacking any form of proof.

“But why do you ask?” 

“Pardon?”

“You asked all those questions as if you know what killed him,” Dejun said. “Why is that?”

Somewhat nervous, Jeno waited for Jaemin to say something. But instead, the Prince simply nodded, giving Jeno permission to explain himself.

Not to make Jeno seem suspicious or anything. After all, what type of retainer would know so much about poison? Well, technically, it wasn’t poison. 

“The symptoms sound familiar,” Jeno explained. “To a popular drug - a few, really. But it’s a stimulant; it makes you all… lively. And given the right dose, it turns from pleasant to debilitating. Too much for the heart to handle.” He knew because Johnny was involved in the trade. Not that he ever tried any of it; it was one thing to deal and one thing to use. “So how long exactly has your father been like this?”

“A- About a month?”

“A month?”

“Yes,” Dejun confirmed. “Though it only really got bad and noticeable maybe a week before his passing? That’s when it seemed like he couldn’t sit still at all.”

Jeno hummed. 

“And before then, did your father receive any gifts? Anything?” Jaemin chimed in. “Anything that could have been spiked?”

“I- Well, it was his birthday,” Dejun explained. “He got a few bottles of wine and whiskey but-”

“Did he go through all of them?”

Overwhelmed by the questions, Dejun froze. “I- I don’t know. Maybe? Father usually had a drink everyday so he might have gotten to the other bottles already. Actually- I think he did. Father isn’t really a wine person, but he did try to get through a bottle. And then whiskey. He liked his whiskey.”

“That wine… Do you know who it was from?” Jaemin asked. “Who any of the drinks were from?”

“No. Someone from the court? They all know my father likes his drinks.”

That didn’t entirely narrow it down.

“I- I don’t know but- if you want, you can look around his office. Maybe you’ll be able to find something,” Dejun suggested. “I haven’t- I haven’t had the chance,” he admitted. “I don’t know if I can. But you… You’ll be able to find something, right?”

“We can try,” Jaemin replied. 

Dejun sighed, his shoulders losing some of their previous rigidity. “Thank you. I’ll- I’ll let you look around for now. Take your time.” He gave the pair a once over before he finally headed towards the door, hand hesitant over the knob. “It’s good to see you, by the way.”

“Yeah. You too.”

With that, Dejun left.

And now, only two remained. 

As soon as the door clicked shut, Jaemin exhaled, deflating. 

That was a lot.

“Do you believe him?” Jeno asked, looking over at the Prince. 

“Do I believe that his father was poisoned? I suppose I would be a hypocrite if I said I didn’t,” Jaemin mused. “But I- I will admit that it is plausible,” he continued, straightening out. Jaemin looked around the room, eyes taking special interest in the painting of his own family. “Especially if what Dejun said is true - about his father thinking I would make a good King.”

“A loyalist of the Regent taking out an official loyal to the Prince,” Jeno mused. “But of course, what proof do you have?”

“You love that question, don’t you?”

“I think it is a very good question,” Jeno retorted. 

Jaemin scowled. “I know. The alcohol seems like a decent starting point, right? Laced with poison.” He moved around the room, looking at the book shelves and displays, though in the end he was most interested in the grand desk by the large window. He walked towards it, dragging his fingers across the smooth mahogany. 

“Drugs,” Jeno corrected. “Arguably not a route I would take, but it does the job.”

Jaemin scoffed. “Not the way you would do it? Say, just how many people have you killed?”

Not expecting that in the slightest, Jeno was left stumped. “P-pardon?”

“You heard me,” Jaemin replied, standing behind the desk, leaning forward with his hands flat on the wood. “How many people have you killed?”

“I-”

That wasn’t a question Jeno wanted to answer. Quite frankly, it wasn’t something he even wanted to think about. He wasn’t counting. He didn’t want to count. But he should. He should know how many lives he’s taken so far. He should be haunted by that number. Even if he was already tormented by it.

How many people has he killed? How many people did he kill that deserved it? How many that didn’t? And who could really tell who was worthy of being left alive and who wasn’t? Jeno never had a say, only an order.

But it was too many.

Far too many.

Noticing the silence and hesitation, Jaemin pulled himself up, an uncomfortable and apologetic look to him. “I’m sorry,” he uttered. “I didn’t mean- Sorry. I don’t know why I even asked that.”

Jaw clenched, Jeno swallowed and directed his gaze to the floor. 

“What I said before: I know you don’t do this for fun,” Jaemin continued. “That was… a far too insensitive question to ask. I guess I was trying to ask how you would have done it. It didn’t come out the way I meant it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

Jeno snapped his eyes up at Jaemin, meeting his soft gaze from across the room. Tender. 

“Why- Why are you like this?”

“Like what?”

A good question, really.

“Kind,” Jeno settled on. “To me of all people.”

Jaemin shrugged, the movement miniscule and barely noticeable. “You probably deserve it the most. Assassin or not. And I umm… Yeah.”

Jeno chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief, his heart clenching at the sincerity of Jaemin’s answer. To think that Jaemin would say something like that so shamelessly. Since when did he become such a smooth talker? Or was that always there? No, surely Jeno would have noticed it earlier.

“You really don’t have a problem with it?”

Jaemin shrugged. “Well, I suppose I do. But I also don’t,” he admitted. “Have you perhaps killed innocent people? People I know? Maybe. But I…” He licked his lips, struggling to find the right words. “I don’t hold it against you. I can’t. Even though you’re here to kill me, I still can’t find it within me to despise you. It’s the opposite, really.”

Too honest.

Too kind.

It was too much to handle.

“Well, if I were to have done it,” Jeno said, changing the topic before he dared feel something else stirring in his heart. He cleared his throat. “I would not have used a drug of all things. But I guess that it works as well. If you start feeling unwell, you wouldn’t be going to the bottle,” he explained, approaching Jaemin by the desk. The Prince folded his arms, carefully listening to Jeno. “But if you have a drink and feel good…”

“What’s stopping you from another drink?”

Jeno hummed. “If the Earl wasn’t fond of wine, then he might have still struggled to get through the bottle quickly.”

“But once he got to the whiskey it was all downhill.”

“Any drug can be lethal, but if you up the dose drastically, you’re bound for an early grave,” Jeno continued. “Pair that with excessive drinking and heart failure is practically a given. The question then, is who provided him with the spiked drinks.”

“Perhaps he had a list of what he received for his birthday,” Jaemin suggested. “Like the one we have. All gifts are collected prior with the names of who gifted what, making it easier to get on with the celebration. You can always send thank you letters at a later time.”

“And if everyone included drinks with their gifts?”

“Then we just have to look for the most obvious suspect.”

“Your uncle?”

Jaemin grinned. “It’s like you can read my mind.”

“Or maybe you’re just that predictable.”

The Prince snorted, nodding in agreement. “Perhaps. Though I can’t wait to prove you wrong,” he said. 

“Find some proof first.”

Jaemin smiled, deciding to do just that. He started rummaging through the drawers, encouraging Jeno to do the same. Honestly, Jeno was used to this, but he usually was under time constraints and far more pressure, not wanting to be caught. Now, he was given full access to the office of an Earl and member of the royal court. If Johnny knew he would probably have him investigate the whole place top to bottom in search of something he could use for his own gain. 

In the end, Jaemin hummed, pulling out a leatherbound notebook, the pages thick from soaked up ink. Other scraps of paper - notes, letters, so on and so forth - were slotted within the pages, leading the two of them to deem the book as something of interest. 

“Maybe he was really into journaling,” Jaemin mused, placing the book down on the desk. He pulled out the chair for himself, taking a seat, the leather groaning. “Have you ever kept a diary?” He asked, glancing up at Jeno as his fingers undid the metal clasp keeping the book closed. 

“Have you?”

Jaemin clicked his tongue. “Avoiding the question. But no; that’s far too personal in a household as dysfunctional as mine. What if my uncle got his grimey hands on it? I couldn’t have that.”

Jeno rolled his eyes. But he could understand. He didn’t keep one for the same reason. It was fear and paranoia so deeply rooted that it felt normal. What if Jeno wrote something unfavourable down, perhaps mentioning how he wished he could run away after having to kill someone? What if Johnny saw that and started to question Jeno’s loyalty? No matter how much Jeno proved his dedication to Johnny, the seed of doubt would be planted. 

That could be just as dangerous as outright treason. 

“Same for me,” Jeno replied, offering Jaemin as much. 

Satisfied, Jaemin smiled to himself. 

As Jaemin flipped through the pages, Jeno continued looking around, focusing more on the bookshelves. He pulled out a few of the books that looked like they were moved the most. 

When he opened some of them and flipped through, there was nothing. But for some, loose pages would fall out. He picked them up, glancing at the fallen paper, only to find blank sheets or random scraps the late Earl must have used as bookmarks. Surely he had better options than that. 

One of the loose papers that fell, however, ended up being something useful. 

Gift registry. 

It was a neatly folded letter, double sided. There were lines of items received as well as the names of individuals from whom they were sent. Exactly what they were searching for. And to think that the Earl slipped that in a… thriller novella? To each their own.

However, before Jeno said anything to alert Jaemin of his discovery, he noticed that there was still another letter folded in the book other than the registry. Curious, Jeno unfolded it, finding a messy scrawl of text and blobs of ink from where the quill had been pressed against the parchment for too long. 

Coming of age. Possible gift ideas. 

Jaemin. 

Likes books. Suhye collected fantasy stories and tales. Perhaps the young boy shares the same interests. Or would that be too childish for a man his age? A collection of stories from Yuhan’s homeland

It would help if I knew what he liked. 

Jewels. Probably has a lot anyway.

Gold. Rose gold, perhaps. He seems to favour the softer colours. 

A new horse. 

His family portrait

Whiskey. Or perhaps not. Terrible habit to get into. 

Jeno chuckled, the rough notes comedic in their own way. 

To think that the Earl had been mulling over a birthday present for Jaemin all this time. Probably since his own birthday given the fact the two letters were kept together - or he was using that as a reference point. Either way, it did make Jeno wonder just what the Earl thought of Jaemin anyway. After all, the way Jaemin spoke of him from the beginning didn’t paint quite this picture. 

Yet there they were.

“I think I-” Jeno came to a drastic halt, the words dying out on his tongue the instant he looked back towards Jaemin, the Prince staring down at the book in front of him, jaw clenched and tears spilling past his eyes, rolling down his cheeks and wetting the pages beneath. “Jaemin?” He called, softer this time. “Are you- Are you alright?”

Jaemin swallowed, wiping the tears from his eyes as he pushed himself out of the chair. “I need a minute,” he explained. “Just- Just give me a minute,” he said, looking like he wanted to run out through the door. Yet he didn’t do that, instead standing to the side of the desk, eyes tightly shut, head tilted down. He folded his arms in a self soothing manner.

Jeno knew better than to question him further. 

But Jaemin didn’t tell him he couldn’t take a look for himself. 

And so, Jeno made his way towards the desk. He placed the two letters of interest down, instead picking up the journal Jaemin had been flipping through. Jaemin had closed it, giving Jeno little to work with in terms of finding the exact thing that made Jaemin crack. As such, he started from the start. 

Most of it wasn’t all that fascinating - recounts of events Jeno didn’t care all that much about, political affairs that were rather boring, as well as political affairs Jeno actually paused to read through.

With how they speak of Onyan at times, you would be sure to believe they thought of it as less than the dirt beneath their shoes. Of course, when asked about it, it’s the same response over and over again. 

Quite frankly, I do not think there’s a reason to be as paranoid over relations when trade talks have been hassle free up until now. And whilst yes, a few unpleasant and unfortunate deaths can raise suspicions, three officials have died in Taesan in a far shorter time span. 

Jeno wasn’t sure if those three deaths would have been planned. 

He continued to flip through.

Today’s meeting might have been one of the worst we’ve had so far this year. 

Hosung knows how to make himself heard, but at times I do wish he could quiet down. I also wish he knew how to rule a country, but alas we can’t have everything we want. Has he brought Taesan to ruin? No. However, I believe he is onto something far worse than an incompetency fuelled downfall. After all, he has done just fine since Suhye passed, but it is also the truth that he has been scheming something. 

What exactly, however, I cannot say. Yet nevertheless, I sense it.

I do fear though that Jaemin may be caught in the crossfire once his plan does come into fruition. Hosung has been a cunning fox all his life, so it wouldn’t surprise me if he were to get Jaemin mixed in somehow.

And more.

I received an unpleasant letter this morning from my dearest friend Doyoung. He’s on a visit to his dear mother, passing through Onyan on his journey. He stopped by for a day, and by heavens does he speak of the sentiments there in such a dire way. He was not expecting the hostility, opting to not mention his name or status as marquess in fear of riling up the locals with his mere presence. 

I knew that the amendments in our trade agreements would not go down favourably, but the extent to which I was right is frightening. We are keeping the land of Onyan hostage with our propositions, and this is not being received well. Onyan has no room to negotiate with us even if they are our most reliable suppliers of agricultural goods. They have far more to lose than us and they know it, wrapped in chains of Taesan’s making.

The distaste towards Jaemin does not help.

Of course, Marquess Kim could not curry favour with the locals at a fear for his safety. This should come as a warning. I fear for him too and wish him a safe journey. If anything were to happen to him I do not know what I would do; it feels like he is the last true friend I have.

And more.

My dear Dejun has received an invitation to attend a friend’s theatre production. It is set to have its opening night at Onyan’s Grand Revolution Theatre. He spoke with great excitement of it, however I fear to send him off to Onyan as of now. As it stands, it is far too dangerous. 

Perhaps after the coronation things will be better. It may be good for Hosung to step back after holding such a tight leash on everyone. As long as Jaemin can see the hurt Hosung has caused and he can rectify it, I believe our relationship with Onyan can still be mended. 

Jeno reached a page which had wet spots.

This would be it.

The one thing that comes with age is not wisdom, but the hindsight which we fool ourselves into thinking it is. Hindsight and regret, I feel, come hand in hand. These days, for one, I find myself filled with nothing but regret. 

A year older, I watch as time slips me by. I look at the portraits of my dear friends, filled with regret. 

Suhye, I hope you don’t mind me taking one of your family portraits. When I heard that Hosung was discarding most of the paintings within the palace, I simply had to act. I took the portrait of you and Yuhan with dear little Jaemin. To think that it was completed only a few months before our dear friend lost his life.

I do sometimes wonder how things would have been if he had not stepped foot on that ship. Or what if he had departed just one day earlier as initially planned? But of course, looking back, what father would leave his wife and his child who had just been poorly? At least, that way, he went on that ship knowing full well that his son was healthy as could be and that Suhye would not have to bear the burden of his health alone. He was a good father, no matter how brief that time may have been. If only we knew back then. If only we were wiser. 

He looks just like Yuhan now - Jaemin, that is. Albeit, he has your eyes, Suhye.

Whenever I catch a sight of him at the court, I cannot help but freeze. Sometimes, I even choke up. It is like seeing a ghost. Two ghosts. I believe he carries your smile too, although I unfortunately have not seen him wear a joyful expression since he was a child. Perhaps it is a mixture of you both, sharing in his joy.

And for that, I too feel immense regret. 

Whilst age does not make us wiser, it does bring the expectation of responsibility. 

Unfortunately, I fear that I lack that. 

Yawen has been reminiscing lately of the days we all spent together. Back when it was just the four of us. She also frequently brings up the days after Yuhen passed, speaking fondly of the young boy you would bring over to our residence. Sometimes it feels like you were here every day, and sometimes it feels like the complete opposite, to the point neither of us quite remember how often we would see you. Not often enough, it seems.

Jaemin, however, we remember.

And I suppose this is where regret comes in to play the most. 

For you see, Suhye, Yuhan, I have failed your son at every step of the way. 

He is a bright boy. Always has been. And he is radiant like the sun. But whenever I see him now - no matter how brief - I can feel nothing but grief for his light has been dulled if not completely extinguished. I can see that he tries his hardest, only to be snubbed and shut down. All his efforts have been thwarted, and I know that I may sound utterly paranoid by even thinking this, but I believe that Jaemin’s mistakes were brought on by malicious parties. 

He is young, yes, and he is bound to make errors. But I also know that the same boy you raised and cherished would do nothing but the best. He has love in his heart, and I know that. He is not the type of person to make careless mistakes - especially not ones that would cause harm unto others. I watch him from where I can, and I see the fire burning in him. And I see that he is repeatedly extinguished.

Suhye, forgive me. Yuhan, forgive me. 

I was meant to be a guardian, but I lack the backbone. I watched as Hosung dragged him away from us and I did not fight for that thirteen year old. I did not fight for him then, and I have not fought for him now. But I want to. Perhaps this is the wish I will make for my birthday.

May this young man finally have someone fighting for him. If not me, then someone else. 

I will do all that I can to make the officials side with him, but Hosung has made it difficult to go against him. I fear that there is something big coming, and I fear that I may be too weak to do anything. 

In hindsight, I should have done more. 

I should have fought for Jaemin when he was just a child. I should have pushed back. Yawen says the same. We both should have done more.

But Hosung never cared for our friendship. He has always found it distasteful, and I knew that from the very start. To him, an Earl like myself and a Countess like my beloved Yawen had no right to be as close to the crown as we were. He was and still is a very traditional man with far too much greed and hatred in his heart. 

Yet I still should have done more.

And Suhye, Yuhan, if there is anything I can do, is promise that Jaemin will make you proud. His perseverance and resilience will inspire. And the love he carries in his heart will be reciprocated tenfold. I know he will make a great King. And when the day comes, I will do my best to support him. If I couldn’t do it then, I will do now. No matter what. 

Take care, old friends. 

Tonight, I’ll pour out a drink for us all.

There were other entries after that, but Jeno knew enough. 

He carefully closed the book and placed it down, taking a step towards Jaemin. Then another. 

“Jaemin-”

“Why- why didn’t he say anything?” Jaemin asked, words wracked with a thick sob. “Why- If I- Why couldn’t he have said anything?”

“Jaemin,” Jeno called softly, placing a hand on the Prince’s shoulder only for Jaemin to turn around to look at him. His eyes were rimmed red with tears, lips quivering. 

“It’s my fault, isn’t it?” Jaemin trembled, arms tightly wrapped around himself. “If I hadn’t- If I didn’t shut everyone out then maybe- If I knew-”

Hindsight could be a cruel thing. 

Jeno couldn’t bear to watch or listen any longer. He pulled Jaemin towards himself, wrapping his arms around Jaemin’s shaking frame, holding him close. “You couldn’t have known,” he assured, tucking Jaemin’s head into the crook of his neck. “You were a child.”

Jaemin sobbed, burying his face against Jeno. 

And Jeno let him. 

“It’s alright,” Jeno uttered, running his hand in soothing circles over Jaemin’s back. “We found what we came for,” he added.

♤♡◇♧

Marquess Kim was probably the last person they wanted to bump into at the funeral. But alas, after Jaemin calmed himself down and Jeno pocketed the letters of interest, the two returned to the ground floor. They passed Dejun on the way and Jeno assured him that they would look into matters once they returned home. 

Dejun didn’t mention anything about the puffiness of Jaemin’s face and the wet patch on Jeno’s clothes. 

The pair stuck around for a bit longer, going to see Countess Xiao before they left for the palace. However, with her was none other than the wonderful Kim Doyoung.

Jaemin didn’t even have it in himself to react with distaste. Instead, he barely acknowledged the man’s presence, simply offering him a polite nod.

“Well, colour me surprised,” Marquess Kim said, head tilted to the side as he observed the pair approaching. “If it isn’t Prince Jaemin. I did not expect to see you here.”

“I gave a speech at the burial,” Jaemin pointed out. “Were you not there?”

“I was,” the older man stated. “But I assumed you were only making a brief appearance. To think you didn’t disappear right after that is… well, surprising. Given the track record with the string of court officials' deaths over the past year or so, I wasn’t expecting anyone from the royal family to actually attend.”

“Jaemin and his family have always been close to us,” Countess Xiao explained in defence of the young man. “He is practically family to us.”

“Right. Of course,” the older man said. “He did mention that. If anything, he was rather fond of the Prince,” Doyoung mused. “I can’t say I know exactly what he saw in you, but he definitely thought better of you than he thought of the Regent.”

“Jaemin is a promising young man,” the Countess argued. 

“That, I am sure of.”

Not even Jeno was expecting to hear that. 

“Either way, I am here to bid farewell,” Jaemin stated, turning over to the Countess. “I- I hope that we can meet again soon.”

With a soft smile, the woman nodded. “As do I.”

♤♡◇♧

Jaemin was motivated. 

Ever since he returned from the funeral, he seemed to be fuelled to prove that the death of not only his mother but also that of Earl Xiao were premeditated murders. He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, but he had a feeling he knew where to search. And Jeno, being his loyal retainer, followed him around. 

The Prince had a few more fittings and a rehearsal dinner for which the Regent was present, making the whole thing unbearable and tense. Jeno wished he wasn’t there, the air stuffy and thick with tension. The two men didn’t even exchange all that many words, but the ones they did were sharp and pointed. There was a mention of the funeral - of Earl Xiao - and Jaemin didn’t take it well, picking on the vile, almost glad way the Regent spoke now that the Earl was gone. 

At one point, Jeno was convinced Jaemin would throw something at the Regent. Junmyeon also expected the same thing to happen, exchanging worried glances with Jeno. 

Thankfully, that never occurred. But one of these days… it was bound to happen.

Hopefully not during a public event. 

After that disaster, Jaemin didn’t retire to his room or unwind. With how hectic the birthday and upcoming coronation planning was, Jaemin was gracefully given the option by his uncle to not attend any further lessons for the foreseeable future. On one hand, that came across as kind and caring, but on the other hand, Jeno couldn’t help but wonder if that was meant to be some sort of parting gift to the Prince. 

“He wouldn’t be that nice,” Jaemin mused, catching onto Jeno’s thought process. “If anything, it’s probably because of the teachers themselves. Even they know by now how much of a waste most of our time together is. It would be odd of him to force us to keep the act up.”

“You still have politics though.”

“Even my uncle has someone to keep him up to date,” Jaemin explained. “That one makes sense.”

That was a fair point. 

Nonetheless, Jaemin didn’t plan on wasting his free time. Instead, he only stopped by his room to grab the gift registry Jeno found at the Earl’s residence. He kept it safe in a random book nobody would ever think to look at, nestling the folded parchment in between the pages. When he pulled it out, he stopped to look at the other far more messy note - the scribbled ideas as to what the Earl should get Jaemin for his birthday. He looked at it, a complicated twitch of his brow and lips.

Carefully, Jaemin put it back, taking only the registry with him. 

“Let’s go.”

Jeno followed after him, catching Mark’s curious gaze as the two of them walked past him again. 

“Do you have any ideas what you’re even looking for?” Jeno questioned, keeping his voice down in case anyone was nearby. 

“Evidence?” Jaemin replied.

“Your confidence is astounding.”

Jaemin rolled his eyes. “I don’t know exactly what I’m after, alright? But I know one thing for certain,” he said, taking a turn towards an area of the palace Jeno knew rather well by now. 

“And that is?”

The Prince grinned, coming to a halt by the account’s archive. “My answer is in here,” he explained, pushing the door open. He stepped inside, confident that nobody would be in this part of the palace at this time of day - nobody that would ever mention anything to the Regent. 

Jeno exhaled. “Of course,” he uttered. “You and the accounts. Haven’t you looked through all of these enough already?” 

Jaemin clicked his tongue, weaving in and out from between the tall shelves filled with heavy leather bound books depicting all the transactions made by the palace. Jeno trailed after him until they reached the desk by the window, the seat now very much well acquainted with Jaemin. 

“You know, there’s a reason why these records are of great interest to me,” Jaemin explained. 

Jeno raised his brow.

“Jihoon wasn’t the only one that was dismissed,” the Prince continued. “There was a bookkeeper, too. She was fairly new, so I wouldn’t be surprised if none of the other staff mentioned her to you.”

Now that he mentioned it, Jeno did recount Jaemin mentioning two staff members being fired. 

“Well, either way, the pair of them seemed to hit it off,” Jaemin continued. “Perhaps even romantically, but I honestly don’t care too much about that. They did get caught in Marquess Kim’s bedroom, and whilst nobody was given a proper explanation of what exactly happened, the implication is that they decided to sleep together in that room of all places.”

“I’m guessing you don’t buy that story.”

Jaemin snorted. “Would you? Jihoon was not reckless; he was a retainer through and through, and he knew far better than to step foot in a room he wasn’t meant to be in. I think they were framed. Perhaps lured there, only to be caught and punished.”

“Because they knew something?”

At that, Jaemin pursed his lips. “I don’t think they reached an answer, but I do believe they were getting far too close for my uncle to simply leave them be. And they quite liked this place,” he elaborated. “So, whatever my uncle is trying to hide, it is buried somewhere in this room and in these books.”

Jeno looked around, taking in just how many archived financial reports there were all over the place. 

“This is like looking for a needle in a haystack,” Jeno pointed out.

“Perhaps. But I don’t have any better ways to spend my time. I’m dying soon anyway.”

Jeno didn’t like the way Jaemin said that; it was casual, but with a hidden heaviness behind it, the words catching onto a bitter sadness at the end, taking on a choked up raspiness. Jeno didn’t like that in the slightest. It made him feel uneasy, stomach bubbling with acid, corroding him from the inside. 

Jaemin must have noticed the odd shift in Jeno’s expression and demeanour, a flustered and embarrassed flush on his cheeks, averting his gaze from Jeno. He cleared his throat and pulled out the registry he kept in his inner pocket, placing it down on the desk. 

“Anyway, I think that maybe if we try to look at the dates, we might find an odd purchase?” Jaemin suggested. “I mean, the expenses fluctuate so much, and there are so many discrepancies month on month that- there’s bound to be something there. I just don’t know what exactly.”

“I’m not an accountant,” Jeno said. “In fact, I’m pretty bad with numbers.”

“That’s fine,” Jaemin assured. “Just… look for anything that sticks out. And, because I am proactive, I’ve already studied the registry and highlighted the names and gifts I find most suspicious.”

“Suspicious how?”

Jaemin beckoned Jeno closer with a curl of his finger. Once the older man was by his side, Jaemin picked the list back up and trailed his fingertip over names and entries he had circled. Jeno had only briefly looked over the list back at the residence whereas Jaemin had clearly studied everything about it.

“I know he hates me,” Jaemin said, going over the names in order. “She only provided alcohol as a gift. I think he’s a bit weird. He can definitely be bought out. He has no spine. I don’t know who he is. She-”

“Stop,” Jeno called out.

Jaemin sighed. “Look, my process makes sense to me-”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jeno continued, leaning closer towards the list, squinting his eyes in case he was simply seeing things. But no. Jeno knew that name. 

Johnny Suh. 

He took the registry from Jaemin, staring at it, confused.

“What is it?”

“What is he doing here?” 

Jaemin tilted his head to the side, confused, waiting for more. “Who?”

“That’s-” Jeno didn’t know what to say. Seeing Johnny’s name wasn’t something he was expecting in the slightest. His boss was a public figure with an actual life outside of running an underground crime syndicate, but this felt… This just felt severely off. 

Not getting a proper response from Jeno, Jaemin read the name off. “Johnny Suh. Do you know him?”

Jeno could only scoff in response. “He’s… He’s my… Boss?” Jeno explained. “The one who basically made me who I am? He’s the one that sent me here - I mean, on the job. He’s not the commissioner.”

“Oh…”

It didn’t make sense though. It just didn’t.

“So I’m safe to assume that he’s the one that killed Earl Xiao?” Jaemin asked with a bite. 

“No that- He doesn’t just do things like that on his own,” Jeno explained. “I mean- He does, but what I- He wouldn’t be so obvious about it,” he said. 

“It isn’t obvious though,” Jaemin pointed out. “Though why is he even on here in the first place? How would Earl Xiao know him?”

Jeno didn’t think any of this made sense. Why would Johnny give anyone a way to link him to a murder? 

But Jaemin was right: it wasn’t obvious. 

It still didn’t make sense though. What was Johnny doing getting close to Earl Xiao of all people? Well, the Earl seemed to hold favourable sentiments towards Onyan, so perhaps that was how they became acquainted. And maybe the Earl wanted to do business - the legitimate type since, all things considered, the Earl didn’t strike Jeno as the sort of person that would put a hit out on someone’s head. 

“Johnny does operate a trade company,” Jeno stated. “And a few smaller enterprises. They go under the Haeyeon brand name if you know that one.”

And something clicked in Jaemin’s head, because in a split second he was rushing towards the shelves and pulling out the heavy books, piling them down on the table. Jeno only watched, confused by what the Prince was doing. Still, he didn’t stop him, allowing Jaemin to work in his madness. 

After pulling out a few of the books, slamming them down on the wooden desk, Jaemin opened one of them. He flicked through the countless pages, settling on one account. He trailed his finger down to the expenses. It was a large number, broken down into smaller lines, the breakdowns of which were provided on another page. The one Jaemin seemed most interested in was the Services line. 

Jaemin flipped to it. 

“I always found it weird how the service line varies so much every month,” the Prince mused, settling on the page with the itemised breakdown. It sprawled across a few pages with how much the palace spent. “And there was this one entry that always bugged me the most, but I never knew why. It seemed to make sense, but it also didn’t.” He pressed his index down onto the entry of intrigue.

Services provided by Haeyeon Trading.

Jaemin glanced up at Jeno, a curious curve to his lips. “Would you know anything about this?”

Truth be told: no. Jeno didn’t know anything about this. 

He leaned forward as if the text wasn’t legible already. But no matter what, the words written down were Haeyeon Trading. 

“It is an actual business,” Jeno said.

“I’m not saying it’s not,” Jaemin replied. “But you understand where I’m coming from, right?”

“I know,” Jeno assured, observing the number next to the entry. There was something… familiar about it. “When is this ledger from?”

“It’s for April,” Jaemin explained. “This particular entry has the transaction happening towards the end of the month. Why?”

Jeno couldn’t say just yet, but he had a guy feeling that this was connected.

“And the other entries, when are they from?”

Confused but very much intrigued by what Jeno was trying to work out, Jaemin grabbed the other books and searched through them to find the same line within the expenses breakdown. He laid each book he had brought out with him on the table open to the right pages, a clearer picture being painted in front of Jeno’s eyes.

Jeno looked at the dates and the corresponding amounts.

“Johnny takes a cut,” he mused, doing the calculations in his head. “The rest gets assigned under the company name. Then, it gets split again. And the rest goes to us.”

January. Jeno had a decent payout for the assassination of a Lord. It was a short, easy job that didn’t require him to know anything about the target. His location was already determined as he was attending an opera. All Jeno needed to do was kill him before the end. 

February. A busier month. A Duchess and a Viscount. The job took place neither in Onyan nor Taesan but a nation further South. The pair were travelling for business. Jeno killed them on the road. There were others too, but those jobs weren’t given to him. 

March. Nothing major.

April. A few merchants and a Lord if Jeno remembered correctly. 

May. Some more merchants. A diplomat he disposed of in a ditch. 

June. Jeno was sent to kill Jaemin.

July. He didn’t know. 

August. He didn’t know.

But there were murders - he knew that very well.

“Did you figure it out?”

“How long has Haeyeon been showing up in the books?” Jeno asked.

Jaemin hummed. “Probably a year? Though I can’t say I’ve gone through every single record we have so there may be some mentions earlier. But they’ve been consistently showing up over the past year. Why?”

“The amounts and dates correspond to jobs and payouts,” Jeno explained. “At least they seem to be about right. I don’t know just how much Johnny pockets for himself, but the totals seem like they’d be correct. And this one,” he continued, pointing towards the June entry which was by far the largest, standing out like a sore thumb “is my payment for killing you. Though I doubt this is the full thing; it looks more like an upfront payment for a job as big as this.”

It wasn’t big enough. Not what Jeno would have expected after Johnny told him about the reward for killing the Prince. It wasn’t enough, so it had to be an upfront amount. Otherwise, it made no sense. 

“I… I think you might have something to work with here,” Jeno added. “It… It really does look like someone in the palace-” He stopped himself, feeling stupid for entertaining the idea that it was anyone but the regent. He cleared his throat and tried again. “It looks like your uncle is really trying to kill you.”

For some reason, however, Jaemin didn’t react to that. Instead, he seemed more fascinated by all the different amounts laid in front of him. “But why kill so many people?” He questioned, voice hushed as if talking to himself. “What is there to gain?”

“Maybe they were opposed to him?” Jeno suggested. “Earl Xiao definitely didn’t seem to like him.”

“Maybe. But there’s something else here. I know there is,” Jaemin continued, puzzled by the newly arising mystery. “There’s still more officials that don’t like my uncle, but they’re still very much alive. There has to be something else they all had in common…”

“Maybe you could ask someone?”

“Who? Dejun?”

“I was going to say Marquess Kim,” Jeno replied, noticing the shudder that shook through Jaemin. “I’m serious. You read through the Earl’s journal; the two of them seemed to keep in touch. Maybe he would know something. Besides, he didn’t seem to actively hate you at the funeral.”

Jaemin frowned, jaw clenched. He kept his gaze on Jeno firm before he sighed, shaking his head. 

“I hate that you make sense.”

♤♡◇♧

Jaemin wrote the letter.

Surprisingly enough, he received a response promptly. 

They were both sitting around in the music room, Jaemin idly pressing on the piano keys as they waited for another fitting in the afternoon. Jeno suggested doing something more productive in the meantime, but Jaemin couldn’t be bothered, too tired from staying up all night, tossing and turning as his head was preoccupied by a myriad of overwhelming thoughts. When Jeno came to wake him up in the morning, the Prince looked like a mess.

The letter was delivered to Jaemin before eleven. 

He looked at the envelope, somewhat hesitant and somewhat eager. Jaemin glanced at Jeno, waiting for him to say something. But when all Jeno did was nod his head, prompting Jaemin to open the letter, Jaemin could only exhale.

“A letter knife would be nice,” the Prince mused with a dramatic flair, causing Jeno to chuckle, the knife weighing heavy in his inside pocket. Nevertheless, he simply ripped the envelope open and pulled out the folded letter.

Jaemin made a start on it, not caring to read aloud for Jeno. Annoyed and curious, Jeno got up from his seat and made his way over to Jaemin, leaning over his shoulder to read the letter, skimming over quite a few sarcastic passages from Marquees Kim. He definitely had a particular way with words. Even without the man saying anything outwardly mean, some comments felt like direct jabs. He truly was a sweetheart.

As for your query, I must say that I am rather intrigued. I admit that I never considered the possibility of there being something tying these peculiar deaths plaguing the court and adjacent parties. I also never noticed that there were quite this many untimely deaths of Taesan nationals occurring as of late. One dead merchant, whilst unfortunate, would not raise any concerns. But with the amount of disappearances we are witnessing, perhaps there is something there. 

I do have to say, however, that I was not expecting you to come with this to me given our history. Nevertheless, I hope I can be of some assistance. A friend of a friend is a friend of mine, I suppose.

Jeno wasn’t sure if Jaemin wanted to be friends with Marquees Kim, but that was besides the point. 

Regarding all the deaths, I have to say that I do know quite a lot of the people involved. Whilst not entirely close to them, I know of them and have previously engaged in conversation with a large majority. What they all have in common, however, is a difficult matter to assess. 

You mentioned their loyalty to the crown, differentiating between yourself and the Regent which admittedly piqued my interest when assessing these individuals. What I came to realise, is that their views differed on the matter. Some viewed the Regent quite favourably, whilst some believed that no matter what, the next in line was the Prince. Though, interestingly enough, even those who agreed with the Regent seemed to have some disagreements with him, mainly regarding his business with Onyan. But even then, none of their opinions were homogeneous. 

What I can say, however, is that the topic of Onyan is a tricky one these days. 

I am unaware as to how much you know given your previous state of obliviousness, however the relationship between our nations are fraying. I see it on the daily; the people of Onyan are being harassed by an onslaught of trade deals and laws which work against them whilst the people of Taesan are growing weary of our close neighbours. Perhaps, just like you, they have noticed a pattern between the deaths of our nationals on foreign soil. It seems Onyan is no longer accepting of our people, and a continuous string of deaths is proof of that.

Jeno’s stomach churned.

Something about Doyoung’s words didn’t sit right with him. There was an implication there that unnerved him. 

“Deaths of our nationals on foreign soil,” Jaemin repeated, fixating on that one line. “What… Did they all die in Onyan?”

“That’s where we’re from,” Jeno answered. “Johnny, Haeyeon group, myself. I think there were a few jobs scattered around the place, but most took place within Onyan when officials and diplomats were visiting or passing through,” he explained. “Which now that I think about it does feel weird. I don’t know why, but it does.”

Jaemin froze, processing everything Jeno just said. Slowly, he turned to look at him, piercing eyes meeting his own. “You’re from Onyan?”

Not expecting that, Jeno blinked. “Yes? Does that really matter?”

It did.

One by one, the pieces clicked together in Jaemin’s head. Jeno could see him thinking everything through - a convoluted plot and a conspiracy against not only him but the entire nation. One by one, Jaemin made sense of the past year, putting together all the hints that were right in front of his eyes long before he even knew what they meant. An ancient tapestry, court meetings, sabotage, and an Onyan assassin. 

“This changes everything,” he uttered, voice oddly quiet. “There’s a reason you’re here.”

“I’m here to kill you,” Jeno pointed out. “We know that already.”

But Jaemin shook his head, disagreeing with Jeno. “That’s not why you’re here. My death is merely a bullet point in this whole story. No, my death is a catalyst. And you are the one to set his plan in motion.”

Very much confused, Jeno tilted his head to the side, brows pinched. 

“A string of murders in Onyan. The people of our two nations growing more hostile against each other,” Jaemin continued, the scenes playing out clearly behind his eyes. “And then, on the day of the Prince’s coronation, he gets killed by who? An undercover assassin from Onyan. It’s an act of rebellion and defiance. It is a declaration of war.”

That feeling in his stomach was there again. Ten times worse.

“You’re here to die,” Jaemin stated. 

“That’s-”

“He orchestrated this,” Jaemin interrupted. “You’re not getting away, Jeno. You were sent here to die alongside me. You’re here to start a war my uncle has been craving for the longest time.”

“But Johnny-”

Jaemin stood up, clearly having had enough with Jeno’s denial fuelled stuttering. “Maybe he’s in on it too! He’s carrying out all the dirty work for my uncle and you just so happened to be the one to get caught in the middle.”

That couldn’t be true though; Johnny would send Jeno out to die. Surely the older man didn’t know about this part of the plan. Maybe he was fooled by the Regent or blindsided by the money. Maybe he didn’t realise that things would play out quite like this. After all, he promised Jeno that once the job was finished, Jeno would be able to leave safely. He promised him freedom. He promised that everything would end up working out.

There was no way he sent Jeno out to die.

But… But Jaemin made sense. 

There had to be some truth to what he said.

And Jeno was scared. 

“I don’t- I don’t want to-” The words just wouldn’t come out of him. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to be the start of a war. He didn’t want to cause anymore pain. Everything hurt. His chest felt tight, lungs constricted, a lump in his throat. He couldn’t breathe, struggling to gasp for air as body began to tremble, a sharp chill running down his spine. His vision blurred, hot tears prickling behind his eyes. “I don’t-”

Jeno sobbed, the weight of something far greater than him crushing him. This was above him. This was something he never signed up for.

He never signed up for any of this. 

Jaemin caught him, wrapping his arms around Jeno, pulling him close towards himself. “I know,” he uttered softly, encouraging Jeno to let go and release all the grief and fear tormenting him. “I know,” he echoed, running a hand up Jeno’s back up to his neck and then head, pushing down gently so that Jeno rested his head in the crook of Jaemin’s shoulder, finding shelter against him. “I’ve got you now. It’s alright.”

Jeno cracked, a forceful cry shaking him. 

Jaemin held him through all of it.

“I’ve got you,” Jaemin uttered softly, pressing a delicate kiss to Jeno’s hair. 

It only made Jeno cry harder. 

Such tenderness from the same man he was sent here to kill only made the crack in his heart all that much worse, conflicted as to who he even was as a person by this point. Because he wanted more; he wanted the comfort of Jaemin’s arms and the warmth of his body, the genuine connection he felt around the younger man, but he didn’t know if he even deserved any of that by this point. His hands were stained in blood, never to be washed clean. He didn’t know if he deserved any of this.

But he wanted it.

He wanted the only person that ever made him feel something real. 

Even if their time was limited. 

Jeno was scared of dying. And he was just as scared of losing Jaemin. 

He clung onto Jaemin, clutching onto the fabric of his shirt, needing him to be as close to him as physically possible, but even then it didn’t feel like enough. None of this was enough. He was desperate for so much more than he could have ever predicted.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you,” Jaemin assured. “I promise.”

That wasn’t enough.

Jeno shook his head, tears spilling out and soaking Jaemin’s shirt. “I need more than that,” he uttered, voice hoarse and strained. “I need- I need you to promise.”

Jaemin chuckled, lipid pressing against Jeno’s head once more. “Promise what.”

“That you- that you won’t get hurt,” Jeno replied, swallowing down the lump in his throat. “If we- If we’re doing this together, then you have to stay with me. No dying.”

At that, Jaemin laughed, nodding. “Alright. But I’m pretty sure that’s fully in your hands now,” he pointed out, their chests pressed tightly together, the outline of the knife in Jeno’s pocket digging into his flesh. 

“I won’t. I won’t hurt you,” Jeno promised. “I’ll help you. In whatever way I can.”

“Just that’s enough,” Jaemin mused. “Though I think you’re forgetting something,” he added once the worst of Jeno’s cries were over, becoming subdued. 

Jeno pried himself just enough to meet Jaemin’s eyes, probably looking like a complete wreck after crying so much. The Prince looked at him fondly, brushing a strand of hair out of Jeno’s face, tucking it behind his ear even though it was too short to actually stay there. 

“What am I forgetting?”

Jaemin grinned - a familiar, mischievous curl. “I’ll help you in whatever way I can, your Highness.”

“A-” Jeno sighed. “You’re insufferable,” he stated, causing Jaemin to laugh, bubbly and true. He leaned into Jeno, his gleeful smile utterly blinding. “I’m being honest,” he said before adding “your Highness” onto the end, making Jaemin laugh even harder. The Prince bumped their foreheads together, very much amused. 

“Only because you’re so much fun to tease.”

Jeno rolled his eyes. 

At least Jaemin seemed happy. 

It made him happy too.

A strange thing.

“As I said: insufferable.”

Jaemin hummed in agreement, rubbing their heads together, their noses brushing. “And you are… like a dream,” he said, words dripping with sincerity despite how playful he tried to make them sound. “But I don’t think I could ever have a dream as sweet as this,” he added, embracing the truth spilling from his heart. He locked eyes with Jeno, the gap between them infinitesimally small. “And then that begs the question: how lucky must I be to have met you?”

Now Jeno couldn’t breathe for a completely different reason. 

“Too much?” Jaemin asked, worried if he perhaps overstepped a line.

“No I- I just wasn’t expecting you to be this much of a sap.”

Jaemin snorted. 

“But I guess I have to ask the very same question,” Jeno continued, causing Jaemin’s eyes to soften with pure adoration. 

“Maybe luck really is on our side this time around,” Jaemin mused, his eyes flickering down to Jeno’s lips. “Maybe…”

The minute act made Jeno wet his lips, expectant. He sucked in a shaky breath, waiting for Jaemin to follow through, his heart pounding against his ribcage, threatening to jump out any second now. Each passing second felt like torture, stretching out until Jeno thought he was going to snap. 

“Is it fine if I…”

“If you what?” Jeno asked, eyes flickering down to Jaemin’s lips. 

The corners of Jaemin’s mouth quirked upwards in humoured disbelief. “Is it fine if I kiss you?” Jaemin asked, leaving no more room for ambiguity. 

And Jeno wanted it.

He wanted it more than he could ever begin to comprehend. Yet as the gap between them grew infinitesimally small, Jeno felt fear bubbling in the pit of his stomach. His hands were warm and wet, dripping with blood. Blood which no matter how hard he scrubbed seemed to never come off. Blood that had been there for years and years. 

A Prince and an assassin. 

This would never work.

“Jaemin…” Jeno uttered, meek and scared. 

“Jeno,” the Prince replied, wanting so deeply and heavily that it left Jeno lightheaded. 

“I don’t- this isn’t- You know who I am. You know what I’ve done.”

“I know,” Jaemin assured. “And I know who you are. Not the killer, but Jeno. I know you, and there’s nothing you could say that would make me hate you or fear you or push me away from you. So?”

“So?”

Jaemin smiled. “Can I finally kiss you?”

And how could he say no now?

Jeno made a soft sound in the back of his throat, halfway between a whimper and a plea. It was honestly embarrassing, but Jeno couldn’t care any less. Not when Jaemin finally leaned in and closed the distance between their lips, pressing against him gently as if too scared to break Jeno. It was sweet and tender - a mere peck on the lips - yet Jeno felt like he was falling, body wide awake and experiencing everything all at once. 

Jaemin cupped Jeno’s face, thumbs tenderly stroking his cheeks. He was careful with his touch, so cautious in fact that Jeno couldn’t stop himself from laughing, breaking apart their kiss as Jaemin watched on with confusion and an embarrassed pink tint to his face.

“What?”

“No I- It’s nothing, just- You’ve never kissed anyone, have you?”

Jaemin opened his mouth only to shut it. He looked down. “Is it that obvious?”

Jeno grinned. “Kind of,” he replied. “But I don’t mind. It just means you need some practice.”

Hearing that, Jaemin perked right back up. A devilish smirk spread across his face. “And will you be my teacher?”

“I suppose I have to,” he replied, unable to resist the pull he felt towards Jaemin, their lips brushing against each other. 

“Finally a lesson I can properly enjoy.”

But before they could come together again, a knock on the door rudely interrupted them. 

Of course, they had actual matters to attend to.

The pair looked at each other, both equally giddy. 

“Let’s continue this later?” Jaemin suggested.

“I should be able to make time for that, your Highness.”

Amused, Jaemin lightly punched Jeno’s arm. “You better.”

♤♡◇♧

“I’d punch him if I could,” Jaemin declared, storming into his bedroom. “But I don’t think that would go over all that well. He deserves it though!” The Prince angrily tugged at the buttons of his shirt, focusing on the collar which felt all too suffocating in the heat of the moment. “Who does he think he is? He’s so- Ugh!” He shook his head, using too much force with the shirt, causing one of the buttons to pop off and roll across the wooden floors. “And now I ruined a perfectly decent shirt.”

Jeno picked up the button which had rolled over to the tip of his shoes, playing with the smooth curve in his grasp. “I can fix it for you,” he said, pocketing it. He then proceeded to step closer to Jaemin, slapping his hands away from where they were clutching onto the shirt, deciding to make work of the buttons himself. 

“You see it now, don’t you?” Jaemin questioned eagerly. “Just how much of a pain he is to deal with. There’s no denying it now; he’s evil for the sake of being evil!”

Jeno bit the inside of his cheek, replaying the scene of the dinner which Jaemin unfortunately had to attend with the Regent, the two men sitting on opposite ends of the table. 

To an onlooker, everything the Regent said and did would have come across as normal and without any malicious intent, however Jeno knew better than that. He knew when and where the older man took jabs at Jaemin, this time around focusing far too much on the late Earl Xiao, speaking of the man as if he hadn’t been the one to orchestrate his death.

All throughout the meal, the Regent also made sure to glance at Jeno. Perhaps it was his own way of testing where exactly Jeno stood; after all, the Regent saw how the pair would go horse riding together, and even if he only saw it once, it was enough for him to grow suspicious. Jeno now, in hindsight, noticed how each time the older man spoke to him, he always seemed to remind Jeno who he worked for. 

Not the Prince. He was never there for the Prince. 

And now, more than ever, Jeno felt the intensity of his stare. Which is why when Jaemin was being poked and prodded left and right, all Jeno did was stand still, pretending he didn’t hear a single thing even if deep inside it hurt him just as much as it hurt Jaemin. But he couldn’t react. He couldn’t do anything that would potentially compromise them, and so he simply stared - even forced himself to flash a brief smirk when the Regent said “hopefully Dejun won’t follow his father” as if it didn’t make him feel sick to the core.

“I don’t believe that is an appropriate thing to say given the circumstances,” Junmyeon reprimanded the Regent at some point near the end, clearly made uncomfortable as well by what the man was saying. 

As soon as they were free to go, reaching the final course, Jaemin rushed out. Jeno waited a moment, looking at the Regent with a feigned apology before he followed Jaemin, the Prince far ahead of him. When Jaemin noticed Jeno had finally come to him, he stopped in place, their eyes locking across the corridor.

Jeno hurried to him.

But the anger only grew, erupting once he was safe in the confine of his chambers. 

“And- God, is he vile,” Jaemin continued, shoulders squared with tension. “When he mentioned Dejun I thought- I thought that I might just kill him right then and there.”

“You’re better than that,” Jeno said, undoing the buttons of Jaemin’s shirt one by one with ease. He didn’t even know why he was doing it, but he needed to occupy himself with something. Only once he was met with Jaemin’s bare chest did he realise that he just stripped Jaemin. “A bath, perhaps?” He asked.

Jaemin shook his head. “Not now. I- I just need a minute,” he stated, leaning forward to rest his head on Jeno’s shoulder. “Is this fine?”

Jeno smiled to himself, offering Jaemin a soft hum of approval. 

The Prince’s hands found their way onto Jeno’s waist, pulling him ever so slightly closer towards himself. “What do I do, Jeno?” He then asked, words muffled. Frightened. “How do I- How do I prove to everyone that he’s a monster? I have no proof and… he isn’t going to confess. Not unless it’s to laugh in my face as I’m on the brink of death. We have nothing but a loose thread.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Jeno assured, running his fingers through Jaemin’s hair and down to his nape, massaging the tense spot beneath his fingertips. “And maybe Dejun can rummage around to find the bottles that were laced with the drugs. That could be something.”

Jaemin shook his head. “He can’t get involved.”

“Then you really will have nothing,” Jeno pointed out. 

The Prince whined, tugging Jeno closer. “And what then? He finds the bottle, and what then? Who will listen to me? Uncle has more supporters than I do; I doubt they would go against him.”

“You don’t know that,” Jeno argued. “But if you’re so worried, how about getting someone on the inside to rally for you?”

“Yeah, like who? Last I checked, the only person who cared enough is now dead.”

“If I say who I think, then you won’t be happy.”

At that, Jaemin slowly pulled his head back, eyes squinted as he looked at Jeno. “Surely you’re not suggesting-”

“Marquess Kim? That’s exactly who I’m suggesting.”

Jaemin groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically. 

“Oh come on! You read the letter! He was close with Earl Xiao,” Jeno pointed out. “He can prove to be useful to us. Even if it’s to spread some distrust within the court.”

“It won’t work. And even if- He would be putting his life on the line and I can’t have that,” Jaemin said. “I can’t- I can't let someone else die because of me, alright?”

Jeno had nothing to say to that. He sighed, defeated. “Then I don’t know. I really don’t know. I’ve never- I’ve never been one to come up with plans,” he admitted. “I just follow orders. Like a dog.”

“A very cute dog,” Jaemin added in an attempt to lighten the mood, albeit speaking with a sombre inflection in his words. “I suppose I wasn’t really meant for strategy,” he mused, standing back upright, his hands still on Jeno’s hips. “We’ll just have to wing it. Though don’t tell anyone that their future King is this much of an airhead, alright?”

Jeno chuckled, lips curving up in a smile of their own. “You never know, it could prove useful.”

“Being an airhead?”

“Being unpredictable,” Jeno corrected. “After all, it caught me off guard. Maybe it will work in the future too.”

“I love your optimism.”

“As do I,” Jeno said. “Future King. Are you no longer planning on dying? I thought we made a deal.”

Jaemin smirked, tilting his chin up, eyes fixed on Jeno. “Fortunately or unfortunately, I’ve decided that I do wish to live. You see, I found a new source of motivation. And so, I will not be walking right onto your blade. My sincere apologies.”

With mock hurt, Jeno frowned. “What am I meant to do now?”

The Prince took in a deep breath, lips jutted out in thought. He hummed, giving Jeno’s waist a playful squeeze. It earned a sudden yelp from Jeno, the tips of his reddening at the devious glint behind Jaemin’s eyes. 

“You’ll just have to stick around and find out,” Jaemin replied. 

“Just wing it?”

Amused, Jaemin nodded. “That’s right; we’ll both just wing it. How does that sound?”

“Disasterous,” Jeno replied honestly. “But I do admit it is quite thrilling. Though no more thrills after this; I’m retiring.”

“That’s fine by me,” Jaemin assured, mischief softening into tender fondness. “Whatever you want.”

“And you? What do you want?”

As if the question was stupid, Jaemin laughed - genuine and bright. The sound alone was enough to cause Jeno’s heart to somersault, knowing that only he had the pleasure to hear such sweet melodies from the younger man. 

“Is it not obvious?” Jaemin asked back, his tongue poking out to wet his lips. 

Jeno didn’t respond, watching as Jaemin’s smile only grew larger with the need to speak. The hands around his waist once more pulled him in, closing whatever slimmer of space there was between their lower halves, pressed closer than ever before. 

“Jeno,” Jaemin called, half cautious and half buzzing with an indescribable desire, warm and bright, seeping through Jeno’s skin and deep into his bones. “It’s obvious, right?”

“What’s obvious?” Jeno replied, unable to contain the smile which popped up once Jaemin whined. 

He simply couldn’t help it, finding Jaemin far too endearing like this - whiny and needy and unapologetically true to his feelings. No walls. No barriers. Just pure, unfiltered affection so thick and hot that it should have been suffocating; instead, it was a comforting, delicate thing like the sun on a clear summer day, a soothing breeze passing through, the leaves upon the treetops offering shade, dancing gently with the sway of cool air. Jaemin was summer - both the bright and pleasant days as well the thunderous, stormy days. Both uniquely perfect in their own ways. 

“That you’ve changed everything,” Jaemin said, stealing the breath from Jeno’s lungs. “That you are… You are what has given me the strength to keep living. I can’t- I can’t die now. Not when I have you.”

What a heavy thing to say.

Jeno swallowed, his mouth opening and closing with words he couldn’t find. But he felt what he wanted to say - he felt the way his heart pounded, wishing to leap right out of his chest. He felt the warmth spreading throughout his body, fingertips thrumming with a want and need he had never experienced in his life. He felt wanted. And he felt loved. Something which he never thought he would feel.

“And I- I’m terrified of dying,” Jaemin admitted. “Because that would mean I’d never get to see you again. I- Jeno… It’s obvious, isn’t it? The fact that I love you.”

To hear the confession outright left Jeno feeling winded, chest tight with a swarm of flapping wings - a flock of swallows flying all over the place. He was frozen in place, unable to move and unable to breathe, kept still by the paralysing sincerity of Jaemin’s words. 

Love.

Jaemin loved him. 

Jaemin actually loved him.

That wasn’t something Jeno was used to, and quite frankly he didn’t know what to do with all that emotion. Yet he understood that when he looked at Jaemin, he felt the same; he knew that for quite some time now, his heart has opened itself up to the younger man, welcoming him inside and allowing him to nestle his way into his life in a way nobody has ever done before. Jeno cared for Jaemin even before he realised what his emotions truly entailed. Somewhere along the way, pity morphed into care, and then that spiraled even more out of control up to the point of no return. 

To care for another person this deeply was new. It was… terrifying. But maybe if it was Jaemin, it would be worth it. 

Who else but Jaemin could turn his world completely upside down? Who could bring a vibrancy and light into his world in the same way Jaemin has, reminding Jeno what it feels like to be himself with another person, no more walls up? 

Jaemin was a character, but beyond the act he put up, Jaemin wore his heart on his sleeve, waiting for someone to some day see exactly what it was that he needed - the comfort and human connection that had been denied from him for years. And Jeno saw it. He saw it, just like Jaemin probably saw Jeno’s own desires to be seen and treated as something more than a pawn. 

Who else could look at Jeno the same way Jaemin did, warm eyes softened with adoration? Who else could hold him like Jaemin did? Who else could see Jeno the way Jaemin did?

Maybe, somewhere out there, someone else like that existed. But Jeno didn’t want them. He wanted the man right in front of him. He wanted the man who spoke freely with Jeno - who teased him but still knew when he was being too much, reigning himself in before he went too far. He wanted the man who, despite everything, held so much love in his heart, carrying it with him all this time, refusing to let the flame extinguish. He wanted the man who was scared but tried his best nevertheless, fragments of memories and a tattered handkerchief to grant him comfort. 

Jeno wanted Jaemin.

How was he ever meant to voice his feelings to Jaemin though when the simple word love did so little to truly explain the myriad of emotions swirling around in his chest?

Love.

Was love the best way to describe it?

Could love ever be enough?

With the silence stretching out for far too long to be comfortable, Jaemin sucked in his lips, a soft but wounded sound coming from the back of his throat. 

Jeno should have said something. Should have reacted in any other way than paralysis. 

He had to do something. 

“Did I- I thought-” Jaemin glanced down, chewing nervously on his bottom lip. “If not then-”

“Jaemin,” Jeno called, causing the Prince to snap his attention right back to him. Eyes wide and shaking, Jaemin sought an answer Jeno didn’t realise he was searching for. He needed a confirmation as if it weren’t obvious by now. As if he couldn’t tell that everything Jaemin felt, Jeno reciprocated tenfold. “Isn’t it obvious?” Jeno said before cupping the man’s face, pulling him in for a kiss. 

Jaemin stumbled forward, caught completely off-guard by Jeno’s actions. The two staggered a few steps back, smiling into the kiss as they regained their footing. Once more on balance, Jeno pressed forward, the force of his kiss still not enough to convey just how bright the fire in his heart blazed for Jaemin. But then again, it felt like nothing he could do would ever be enough to put the point across. 

He held onto Jaemin, refusing to let him go now that he had him all to himself. And it seemed that Jaemin was on the same wavelength, the hands on Jeno’s waist pulling him closer, even the slightest gap between them causing him great anguish. They were both desperate to be close, a magnetic pull between them so strong that they simply couldn’t fight it back any longer. 

The exchange became increasingly heated as Jaemin’s hands wandered, one dipping to the dip of Jeno’s lower back, the other traversing the curve of his spine. There was far too much fabric in between them, yet even then Jeno could sense Jaemin’s body heat, his palms scorching where they rested upon him. And Jeno, lost in the swelling emotions of his besotted heart, parted his mouth. Breathless, hot exhales and low whines slipped past him, adding fuel to the inferno raging within Jaemin. 

Their kisses became hungrier - all devouring. Messy and wanting, a clash of teeth and tongues as all that really mattered was feeling the other. 

And Jaemin was truly starved.

The Prince was an unstoppable force now, finding a comfortable rhythm for himself, slowly growing more used to kissing Jeno. As soon as Jeno gave him an inch, Jaemin took a mile. He needed very little in terms of guidance, brute forcing his way into making Jeno shudder and whimper, body set ablaze. What he lacked in practice he made up with vigour and devotion, pouring his entire heart into each touch. Jeno felt his unwavering adoration and candor like a tide crashing into him, knocking him right off his feet. 

Jeno’s mind was fuzzy, ears ringing with a static noise as if his entire body had been overworked and overwhelmed. He clung onto Jaemin, tangling his fingers in the man’s raven hair, yanking and tugging only to spur Jaemin on even further. 

Jaemin tasted sweet - like honey and lemon and a hint of herbal tea. He was rich and light, tart and bitter. Jeno couldn’t get enough of it, moaning as Jaemin’s tongue licked inside. With whatever semblance of control he could muster, Jeno pulled on Jaemin’s hair again in a desperate plea for more even as he struggled to breathe and think. All that mattered was the way Jaemin felt against him. 

One step back. Two steps.

Jaemin grabbed his hips again, pushing him away as their lips remained locked. 

Another step back.

Jeno could barely keep himself up, laughing as he practically fell back with Jaemin guiding him along. They both stumbled together until Jeno’s back hit a heavy dresser. What followed was a sudden crash as a flower vase came tumbling down, shattering into dozens of fragments on the floor, water and freshly cut flowers met their demise.

The two men froze, two pairs of eyes landing on the crime scene.

“Has that always been there?” Jeno asked, looking back at Jaemin. 

“Beats me,” the Prince responded. “Where were we?”

Jeno grinned, stealing Jaemin’s lips for another kiss, heart fluttering when Jaemin smiled against him, muttering a soft “that’s right” into their exchange. Jaemin forced himself closer, pushing Jeno further up against the dresser until he was half sitting on it, legs spreading to allow Jaemin to slot himself in between them.

Jaemin gladly took the invitation.

This kiss, however, didn’t last long before they were once more rudely interrupted. 

The doors to Jaemin’s room were forced open and Jaehyun rushed inside, panicked. “Your Highness, I heard a crash-” When his eyes fell upon the pair, faces flushed and bodies pressed together, Jaemin snugly standing in between Jeno’s parted legs, the words on Jaehyun’s lips died out. Instead of continuing, he just stared as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.

Jaehyun blinked a few times, trying to figure out if he was perhaps hallucinating or not. 

Jaemin sighed. “What did I tell you about knocking?”

Still very much dumbfounded, Jaehyun didn’t respond until he actually processed what was happening. “I- I apologise, your Highness,” he said with a bow. “I heard commotion and worried that perhaps something had happened.” He glanced over at the shattered vase and then looked back up to the culprits that had managed to knock it off. “But I now see that this was simply a misunderstanding. I do sincerely apologise, your Highness.”

Amused, Jaemin shrugged. “It’s fine,” he assured. “Though for future reference, unless I am actually screaming, please knock. Think you can handle that?”

“Yes. Of course, your Highness. I shall now… leave you two to it.” He spared Jeno one last curious glance before he headed out of the room.

Once the doors clicked shut, the pair looked at each other. 

“Does he have super hearing or does he just stand right outside your door?” Jeno asked, wondering how Jaehyun managed to catch the sound of a vase shattering from where he was stationed. 

“Probably the latter,” Jaemin replied. “I’m pretty sure he’s paranoid that I might die at any minute. The fact he thinks I was about to jump off the balcony probably doesn’t help either.”

“I can’t blame him.”

Jaemin rolled his eyes. 

“But it’s good,” Jeno continued, causing Jaemin’s eyebrows to rise. “He cares about you. You should make use of that.”

Jaemin clicked his tongue - a displeasured sound. 

“I’m being serious; he could prove to be useful. Maybe Mark too.”

“They can’t get involved,” Jaemin argued. “I can’t- I can’t risk it.”

“Like Dejun?”

The Prince swallowed, averting his gaze. “Like Dejun.”

Jeno sighed. Though he could understand where Jaemin was coming from, there was a stark difference between Dejun and two trained royal guards. And whilst it was sweet that Jaemin cared about them all, Jeno needed the younger man to realise that if he wanted to get anywhere with serving the Regent what he was owed, he would require far more assistance than just Jeno and some luck. 

“They can handle themselves,” Jeno pointed out. 

“But-”

“Nothing will happen to them,” Jeno interrupted. “If we can actually decide on a plan, they won’t get hurt, alright? We just need… a course of action.”

“But I thought we were going to wing it?”

“We can wing it and still have a semblance of a plan, you know? Those two things can coexist.”

“I would argue that those are two clashing ways of thinking.”

“Then argue,” Jeno said, giving Jaemin no room to actually make his case. “Just admit it, Jaemin: any help is good help. I can talk to them if you’re too afraid.”

Jaemin didn’t even bother contending that. So he really was scared. 

“Is that fine?” Jeno asked.

“Yes,” Jaemin replied, not having anything else to say. “I suppose I- I guess it might be helpful.” He snuggled up closer to Jeno, seeming smaller than he really was. 

“That’s the spirit,” Jeno mused with a smile, the presence of which caused Jaemin to relax a little. “Oh and Jaemin,” he added, ensuring that the younger man’s attention was fully on him again. Once Jaemin looked up to him, expectant, Jeno leaned down for a brief kiss - quick and sweet, lacking the hunger of their previous exchange. “I love you too, if it wasn’t obvious already.”

♤♡◇♧

“I apologise for last night,” Junmyeon said, greeting Jeno early in the morning as the staff gathered for their breakfast before making a start to the day ahead. 

Surprised, Jeno blinked slowly at Junmyeon, still getting accustomed to being awake again. “Oh? That wasn’t your fault.”

Junmyeon sighed, sitting down at the table with Jeno. It was a fairly common occurrence for them to share their morning meal together if they had the chance; the older retainer was up far earlier than everyone else so he didn’t have breakfast at the same time, but when he did, he liked to sit with Jeno. 

“But I’m afraid that it is my fault,” he stated. “I am responsible for the Regent, and even so, I should have stepped in and put an end to his ramblings earlier. So for that, I apologise,” Junmyeon said sincerely. “I- I should have done that a long time ago.” He looked down, dejected and remorseful. “I just hope that the Prince was fine afterwards. He was, wasn’t he?”

Jeno hummed. “He just needed to unwind,” he confirmed. “But he was upset,” he added, noticing the way Junmyeon clenched his jaw, shoulders tensing. “But it wasn’t your fault.”

However, Junmyeon didn’t agree. “You shouldn’t make excuses,” he said, finally looking back up at Jeno. “It’s a bad habit to get into.”

“Alright… In that case, maybe next time you should step in sooner.”

Junmyeon smiled, nodding. “I will.”

Chapter Text

With Jaemin’s approval, Jeno was on a mission to recruit Jaehyun and Mark into their small circle. 

Easier said than done, of course. 

For one, Jeno had no actual idea what to say to Jaehyun to have him listen, and when it came to Mark, Jeno didn’t know how to act around him. In his time at the palace, he actually didn’t get to interact with either man enough times to form a strong bond - or even a weak bond that went beyond a polite greeting here and there (or an uncomfortable run in at the wrong time). 

In theory, all he had to do was round the two up and tell them about the Regent being up to no good, but there was the issue of loyalty. 

The way Jeno understood it, the two guards used to be friends with Jaemin until the point Jaemin decided he couldn’t trust anyone around him. After cutting them off, they still remained at his side as loyal guards, however it was unclear if they favoured him to the actual Regent. Jeno had a feeling that, if given the option, the two would stand by Jaemin’s side. At least Jaehyun would - Jeno didn’t know enough about Mark to confidently comment on his priorities. But Jaehyun… It was obvious just how much he still cared about the Prince. 

It was a decent start. 

So Jeno decided to cosy up to him first and then work his way up to Mark second, perhaps after getting a second opinion from Jaehyun. 

And so Jeno waited around the common area before the crack of dawn, waiting for Jaehyun to come down from his night shift. When the guard entered the communal rest area he jolted at the sight of Jeno waiting around. Of course, Jeno tried to make himself look natural, even bringing out his sketchbook to kill some time. He ended up doodling on the pages, getting roughly half-way through the book during his stay at the palace. Most of his drawings consisted of the Prince. Far too many, really. 

He might have been obsessed with Jaemin for longer than he even realised. 

When Jaehyun entered, Jeno was in the middle of a rough sketch of some trees and other foliage, using his memory of the afternoon prior spent in the secret grove with Jaemin, the younger man soaking up some of the sun, his head resting on Jeno’s lap. They knew that now more than ever they needed to keep the act up, not allowing anyone to see them get too friendly in case it caused the Regent to take drastic measures. 

As far as they were concerned, they had to ensure that the older man wouldn’t question the fact that Jeno would kill Jaemin at his coronation. And so, if they wanted some moments of peaceful time alone, they had to do so in secret. Though, in a sense, not much had changed. 

Startled by the fact he wasn’t alone, Jaehyun stared at Jeno, confused by his appearance so early in the morning. Still, he offered Jeno a polite nod, acknowledging his presence. 

“It’s the end of your shift already?” Jeno asked, closing his sketchbook and tying the leather strap around it. “Time sure does fly fast.”

“It sure does,” the guard mused. “How come you’re up already?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Jeno replied, crossing his legs, sketchbook resting on his thigh. “And I did take a nap earlier. I didn’t think I would be up this long though.”

Jaehyun hummed, unmoving. Jeno truly had no idea what the man was thinking. 

“Is the Prince well?” Jeno asked. “No screaming in the middle of the night to be saved?”

“Nothing of the sorts,” Jaehyun replied. “And no broken vases, in case you were worried.”

Jeno smiled, thin. He clicked his tongue, glancing down at his lap. “About that…”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Jaehyun assured, filling Jeno with a sense of calm. That was until he continued. “However, under a few conditions.”

Right. It couldn’t be that easy.

“Oh… Of course.”

Jaehyun stepped towards Jeno, stopping just before the tips of their shoes touched. He wore a complicated expression, brows furrowed and lips downturned in a scowl as he regarded Jeno with sharp eyes. If he had to compare the two, Jaemin probably was more intimidating from the sheer fact he could freeze Jeno in place with one look. However, that didn’t mean that Jeno didn’t squirm beneath Jaehyun’s gaze, wondering what was taking the man so long to say anything. 

“What exactly are your intentions with the Prince?” Jaehyun asked at last. 

Jeno was expecting much worse than that. “My intentions?”

“Yes: your intentions,” Jaehyun repeated. “What do you think you’re doing with him? You’re meant to be his retainer, not his- his…”

“Lover?”

“Is that what you are, then? Lovers?”

Jeno thought of the way they kissed and held each other - the words they exchanged. He thought of the way they stole glances and touches. The way all he could think of was Jaemin’s lips on his, giving himself up fully to the Prince, his heart singing with desire and love for him. He would lay himself bare for him; he would willingly give himself up to Jaemin, imagining his hands all over, exploring him with all the reverence and care he had shown up to now. And Jeno would do the same, desperate to show Jaemin just how much he cared for him, willing to go against everything he knew for his whole life just to be with Jaemin. 

So if not lovers, then what else? 

“Yes,” he confirmed. Jaehyun wouldn’t tell - Jeno knew that much already. Though that didn’t change the fact he might not be as loyal to Jaemin as he ought to be. “Lovers. Do you have an issue with that?”

Jaehyun contemplated Jeno’s words, mouth skewed in thought. “I… I suppose that I don’t. But I also do.”

“It’s one or the other.”

“Then yes: I do have an issue with it.”

Jeno sighed. Great. Just what he needed. 

“May I at least know why?”

“Do you want my honest answer?”

“Please. Don’t sugarcoat it.”

“Alright,” Jaehyun uttered, crossing his arms. “Quite frankly, I don’t trust you.”

“Pardon?”

“You heard me,” Jaehyun said, staring down at Jeno with a sharp, cool gaze. “I know that the Prince seems to treat you favourably and that the two of you are… lovers, but I can’t shake the feeling that there is something you are keeping from all of us. I don’t trust you.”

“Can I at least know why?”

Jaehyun sucked in his bottom lip, wondering if it was worth it. Jeno wanted to know though; if he wanted to convince Jaehyun to join him and Jaemin, it would be ideal if Jaehyun didn’t distrust him. It would probably be easier if Jaemin were the one to talk Jaehyun into it, but as it stood, he still got awkward when Jeno brought it up. Not like his life was at stake or anything. 

“For one, even for an overglorified nanny you never struck me as an actual retainer,” Jaehyun explained. “Of course, you carry out your duties just fine, but you’re just… You’re not the same as Jihoon or Junmyeon. There’s just something about you that doesn’t sit right with me.”

“Is it my face?”

“It’s not your face,” Jaehyun replied. 

Jeno exhaled, pushing himself up from the hard couch he had been lounging on. Upright, he met Jaehyun at eye level. 

“I think you’re good at reading people,” Jeno declared, surprising Jaehyun once again. “Which is why I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that there is some… malice within these palace walls.”

Intrigued, Jaehyun took a step back, head tilted to the side as if offering Jeno the room to speak. 

And so, he continued. 

“What are your thoughts on the Regent?”

“Is this some test?” Jaehyun retorted. 

“Let’s try again: what are your thoughts on the Prince?”

At that, Jaehyun didn’t react as outwardly. He set his jaw, grinding his teeth, arms firmly crossed over his chest. 

“Do you care about him?”

“Of course I do!”

“More than for the Regent?”

“I- My loyalty is to the Prince,” Jaehyun admitted. 

Jeno smiled. “That’s all I needed to hear. Well then, how about I let you in on a secret? And I know you might not trust me, but I’m being serious about this, alright?”

“Alright…”

“Jaemin wants your help,” Jeno stated. “Yours and Mark’s - if you believe he is as committed to Jaemin as you are.”

“He wants our help? For what?”

Jeno shrugged. “You’ll have to ask him yourself,” he replied. “Meet us tomorrow. And bring Mark if you think he’s up to it.”

“Where?”

“We’ll tell you later.” With that, Jeno decided to part ways. “Goodnight.”

Not exactly what he had in mind if he was being honest, but he hoped that Jaehyun’s confusion and suspicion for Jeno would push him forward. Now he just had to wait to see if Jaehyun would do as Jeno expected. 

Hopefully he would. 

And hopefully he really could be trusted.

♤♡◇♧

Jaemin was nervous. By now, Jeno could tell by a single glance, no matter how hard Jaemin tried to hide his emotions. But if he were to be honest, it seemed like Jaemin no longer bothered putting up an act around Jeno, his heart fully on display to the older man. Jaemin fiddled with the handkerchief in his pocket, fingers rolling over the new threads Jeno had etched into the fabric. 

When their eyes met, Jaemin smiled, lips crooked. 

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Jeno assured.

“I’d argue there’s a lot to worry about,” Jaemin retorted. “But I… I suppose that you are right.”

“Did that hurt you to say?”

Jaemin rolled his eyes. Not willing to answer, Jaemin changed the topic. “Where are they anyway? I even gave them such a good opportunity to come here,” he continued, referring to the fact he ordered a new rota for the guards for the night. When Jeno delivered the news, he made sure to add an apologetic and somewhat annoyed smile as he gave the fake reason of “the Prince has grown tired of your faces and requires a change of scenery for the time being.”

It was believable enough. The other guards seem to buy it at least - it wasn’t the first time, after all. With that, Jaehyun wasn’t expected for the night shift and Mark didn’t have to be on duty for the early morning and afternoon. 

As Jeno delivered the note, he also made sure to slip a small note to Jaehyun with the time and location of their meeting written down. Jaemin’s handwriting. Jaehyun would recognise it. 

“Maybe they got lost?” Jeno suggested, glancing around the scenery. Jaemin had agreed to meet with the other men in the only place he knew nobody would search: the secret grove. Arguably it wasn’t the easiest spot in the wooded section of the grounds to reach, even if Jaemin did his best to give a detailed map to get to the spot. “Just give them some time.”

“Ten more minutes. Any longer and I’m leaving,” Jaemin declared. “We can figure something out by ourselves. It’s not like I’m a strategist anyway; I’d have nothing to tell them in the first place.”

“Have you considered that even having some help can go a long way?”

“I have you already, don’t I?” Jaemin asked. “What more help do I need?” He stepped closer towards Jeno, bodies not touching but intimately close, the gap between them a mere hair’s breadth. 

Jeno chuckled, picking up on the uncertainty in Jaemin’s words. Even if he couldn’t admit it outright, Jaemin definitely wanted the support; he simply feared that it would lead to an unfavourable end for everyone involved. Jaemin couldn’t do anything about Jeno now, the man was too intertwined with the entire assassination plot to step aside, but he could still push Jaehyun and Mark away for their own sake. 

Not giving Jeno a chance to respond in any other way, there was a bristling noise from the side as branches were pushed aside, shrubbery being passed through. Instantly, the pair turned their heads to the source, spotting a familiar figure making his way through. 

“Well, I think we found it,” Jaehyun uttered. Mark then proceeded to join him, brushing off leaves from himself. “Terrible map by the way.”

“I’d love to see you do better,” Jaemin huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You made it here though, didn’t you?”

“Not after nearly losing Mark in a ditch,” Jaehyun replied, pointing over at the shorter guard still dusting himself clean. “But yes, we found it in the end, your Highness.” With that, he offered Jaemin a polite smile and bow, the man next to him doing the same. “You summoned?”

“Yes,” Jaemin replied before quickly looking over at Jeno. “Though technically this was all his idea. I was… reluctant to have you come.”

“Which, once I explain everything, you will realise that that is stupid,” Jeno added. 

“I’m cautious,” Jaemin argued. 

“And where has that gotten you?”

“Alright, no need for the attitude.”

“It’s not attitude,” Jeno argued. “I’m genuinely concerned for you, you know? You’ve had no plan for a decade and now that you actually have something to make your point you’re too cautious to act? Jaemin, please.”

The Prince sighed, completely aware he had no leg to stand on. “Alright, alright. But must you embarrass me in front of my guards?”

The guards in question observed the pair with visible confusion riddling their expressions. 

Whilst Jaehyun had the confirmation that the two were lovers, he probably didn’t expect them to act… well, the way they did. Bickering the way they did. On the other hand, Mark had only an idea of what went on between the two after incorrectly putting one and two together, witnessing a dishevelled Jeno leaving the Prince’s bedroom in the morning, most likely believing the two to have slept together instead of nearly killing each other. As such, his bafflement was all the stronger, wondering if they were more than just a potential hookup.

“Is… Is something going on here?” Mark asked, unclear if the question was meant for Jaehyun alone or the pair as well. Either way, Jaemin heard it, exhaling and allowing his shoulders to slump. 

“Yes, there is something going on here,” the Prince answered. “A lot actually. Where should we start?” He looked at Jeno, searching for his guidance. 

“Maybe with a question of our own,” Jeno retorted, turning to the two guards. “Who do you answer to: the Regent, or Jaemin?”

“You asked that before, and haven’t we already answered that by coming here?” 

“We need to hear you say it,” Jeno stated. “So? Who is it?”

Jaehyun and Mark exchanged looks, a tense air between them. To Jeno’s side, Jaemin squared his shoulders, jaw clenched as he watched the two men. Perhaps it hurt to consider the thought that the men he thought he was close to back in the past had turned on him, even if years of separation would do just that. What reason did they have to be loyal to him of all people when all he ever did was push them away?

Seconds passed, and Jaemin grew nervous. Jeno lightly bumped their shoulders together, snapping him out of his thoughts even if just momentarily. That seemed to do the trick as thankfully, before Jaemin could retreat back to his anxious state, the guards had their responses ready. 

“Prince Jaemin.”

“Of course it’s the Prince.”

Their responses put Jaemin at ease, the man unfolding his arms, tension disappearing from his shoulders and jaw. They were sincere enough, words lacking any form of hesitation. What they said, they meant. 

That’s all they needed.

That’s all they could probably get anyway.

Caution was good, but it was easy for it to turn into outright paranoia. Hence, they just had to have faith that the two guards were being honest. At least it was easier to believe that they were on Jaemin’s side than it would be to believe some other random guard or individual was.

“Alright,” Jeno mused. “In that case, let’s get the two of you up to speed.” He beckoned the men closer, pointing over to the large smooth stone he and Jaemin were used to relaxing on by now. The pair approached and took a seat, awkward with their confusion and expectations. “Should I, or do you want to?”

“I will,” Jaemin replied. 

“Then the floor is all yours.” Jeno didn’t step away, staying close to Jaemin as the younger man compiled his thoughts into one. If he needed a few moments, then Jeno would give him the time. 

“Alright,” Jaemin began. “We have reason to believe that my uncle is involved in a string of deaths plaguing the royal court as well as some potential miscellaneous murders for the benefit of himself and his potential co-conspirators." 

The declaration was definitely not what the two guards expected, their mouths hanging open, eyes wide with shock. Perhaps that wasn’t the best way to ease them into what was going on, but it also might have been the best way around it; Jaemin threw them in the deep end and if they learned to swim, then they would be of some use. If they drowned… Well then, what was the point? If they couldn’t believe this, then how was Jaemin meant to convince them of the truth?

“This plan involves killing me on the day of my coronation to start an all out war with Onyan. The end goal of this is to merge the two nations back together, ripping away the autonomy Onyan has fought for all its life,” Jaemin continued. “And whilst we don’t have any proof of this yet, I do believe that my uncle did in fact have my mother killed given the fact he has gone all the way to serve his own best interest. And that is basically what is going on. Any questions.”

A few seconds passed, the two guards taking some time to actually comprehend and digest what they just heard. 

In the end, Mark raised his hand. “A lot of questions, actually,” he said. “If I may, your Highness?”

“Go for it.”

“Well, for one: how do you know that this plan involves your death?”

At that, Jaemin looked over at Jeno, seeking his permission. When Jeno nodded, Jaemin turned back to his audience. “That’s because my assassin is right here,” he stated, wrapping an arm around Jeno’s waist, pulling him into his side. “Jaehyun, Mark, meet Jeno: the man sent here to kill me.”

At first the two guards didn’t react, assuming the Prince was joking. And then, second by second, realisation kicked in. Jaehyun shot up to his feet first, promptly followed by Mark, both men reaching for the swords at their waists. 

“Your Highness,” Jaehyun uttered, voice low and warning. “Please step aside.”

Jaemin, annoyed and tired, did no such thing. Instead, he pulled Jeno even closer, the two men practically attached at the hip. “I think it would be best that the two of you sit back down and put your toys away. Understood?”

“But-”

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Jaemin warned, willing the two guards into submission. Once they sat back down, he smiled and resumed. “Jeno here was sent to put an end to my life. Unfortunately for him, I realised he was up to something early on. What matters, however, is that he’s on my side now, alright? He’s the one that actually wanted to get the two of you involved.”

“And how can you be certain that this isn’t all part of his plan?” Mark questioned, sparing Jeno a sharp and unpleasant glare. “Maybe he’s just covering his ass after getting caught. Your Highness, you must reconsider.”

“There’s nothing to reconsider,” Jaemin stated, firm in his stance. “There is far more to this that you simply are not privy to, but I trust Jeno with my life. You will have to believe me on this.”

Clearly unsatisfied but left with no room to argue, the two guards dropped it. For now at least. 

“Alright, with that out of the way, any other questions? Maybe from Jaehyun this time around?”

The guard in question looked at Jeno and back to the Prince, considering his choices. “What proof do you have for any of this? Jeno’s word?”

“Now that is a good question,” Jaemin mused. “For one, all Jeno can confirm is that I am to be killed - he does not know the one behind the hit on my head, so that is technically left up to interpretation. We also have links between my uncle and a trading company operated by Jeno’s boss. These links also coincide with dates that deaths of officials and Taesan natives in or around Onyan occurred. We also have reason to believe that those that have been killed were killed due to their views on my uncle’s plan for Onyan.”

“So nothing concrete?” Mark asked. 

Jaemin nodded. 

“And what’s the plan?” Mark continued. “Is there even a plan?”

“Ideally, it would be to prove to everyone that my uncle is a power hungry monster willing to kill his own people for his own gain,” Jaemin explained. “As for how to achieve that goal… I’m afraid that I never considered planning this far ahead. After all, I was… I was always certain I would die at any moment anyway. What use is there for plans if I’m dead?”

Jeno looked over at the two guards. “Can you now see why I called his reluctance to get any help earlier stupid? Because it is stupid, isn’t it?”

“I- Well,” Jaehyun uttered at a loss for words. “It definitely is a lot… But then, why not ask for our help earlier?”

“Because- Because I didn’t think I could trust anyone,” Jaemin admitted. “That, and I feared that if I got you involved, you would pay the price for it with your life. So it was best to push you away. Push everyone away.”

“So what changed now?” Mark asked. 

Jaemin turned to Jeno, a fond smile, gentle smile spreading across his face. His eyes glimmered with fondness as gratitude - a silent I love you meant just for Jeno to witness. “I finally had someone to knock some sense into me,” he said, the hand on Jeno’s waist - still present, unwavering - offering him a light and playful squeeze. His own way of thanking Jeno for being the one to pull him out of the darkness he had spent half his life in. “That’s what changed. It’s only a shame that it took so long.”

“Better late than never,” Jeno pointed out. “Albeit we still don’t have a plan. It doesn’t help that Jaemin’s coronation is in less than a month now. Not a lot of time to work with. If we don’t figure something out now…”

“We don’t know what my uncle will do if we don’t find a way to thwart his plans,” Jaemin continued. “Well, we can assume what he will do. So our best chance is to out him and his orchestrated murders. If we can do that then he can be locked up and his attempt at war won’t go ahead - even if we will still have a mess to clean up. We believe that one of Earl Xiao’s close friends may be able to help us as well,” he added, the mention of Marquess Kim clearly nothing he was entirely thrilled by.

“That’s- That does make sense, but do you even know where to start?”

“Probably his office,” Jaemin stated. “If he keeps his correspondences or just anything that can be of use, his office would be the best place to look. But as you know-”

“That place is guarded,” Jaehyun interrupted. “There are guards around constantly. Not to mention the fact that he practically lives in that room. You would be lucky to just walk past and not get spotted.”

“The guard rotas are also fixed,” Mark added. “He only trusts a handful of us to guard the entire floor. If you wanted to make use of us, then we wouldn’t be able to help; the Regent would never have us on guard there. He only really trusts Junho and a handful of others. Not even Woosung if I’m being honest.”

Jeno didn’t like the sound of that. He knew that whenever he got too close, the guards around would stare and intimidate him. But he never considered the office to be some impenetrable fortress. There had to be a way. He knew that there was a way to get in. 

“Well that doesn’t bode well,” Jaemin uttered. “It’s still our best hope of finding something.”

“What about the windows?” Jeno asked, drawing three sets of eyes onto himself. 

“The windows?” Mark echoed. 

“Does anyone stand guard outside the palace with a good enough view of the windows?” He asked, considering an arguably stupid and dangerous solution to their problems. 

“Are you saying you want to sneak in through the window?”

“I’d prefer a balcony, though the office doesn’t have one, right?”

“Technically, it does,” Jaemin stated. “Though it leads to the adjacent room, so not his actual office. I’m not sure if the door would be unlocked.”

Seeing an opening, Jeno smiled. “I can work with that,” he stated. “I’ve broken into more closed rooms than you could possibly count.”

“Oh, so you really are some criminal?” Jaehyun chimed in, not impressed by Jeno’s admission. 

“Jaehyun,” Jaemin uttered, low and cautionary. 

“No, it’s fine,” Jeno assured. “He’s only stating the facts. I am a criminal, and though I am not proud of it, it is coming into use now, isn’t it? So, unless you have any other ideas, I think breaking and entering is our best way around this.”

Jaw set, Jaehyun glared at Jeno. “Fine. What then? You break in and enter the office to find the Regent. You’re caught and sent off to prison - or to be executed. What now?”

“Well ideally he wouldn’t be in his office.”

“As I said: he practically lives there,” Jaehyun repeated. “It’s unlikely he won’t be around when you try to sneak in.”

“Then we just need to keep him distracted,” Jaemin suggested. “And what better time than a party?”

“Your birthday?” Jaehyun asked. 

“Well he has to show his face, doesn’t he? If he wants to play the part of the caring uncle, I doubt he can only show up for a few minutes,” Jaemin said. “It will give us far more time than if Jeno were to sneak in during a shared meal. Mainly because I don’t think I could handle so much alone time with that man.”

Jeno couldn’t argue with that; it was already a miracle that Jaemin lasted as long as he did with the uncle during rehearsal dinners, and he honestly had a feeling that he had a part to play in that success. If Jeno wasn’t there, Jaemin would most likely storm out on the first instance of the Regent annoying him. At least with a party they would be guaranteed some time. 

“It does seem like our best chance,” Jeno confirmed. 

“Even so, the logistics of it all are… How are you even going to get onto the balcony?”

“The library,” Jaemin suggested. “It’s a floor above and probably the safest option. Of course, it does require scaling the walls. I’ve done worse though.”

Hearing that, Jaehyun’s face paled. “You-”

“I’m alive, aren’t I? Besides, I’m sure Jeno can handle that. You can handle that, right?” Jaemin asked, this time sounding genuinely concerned. The last thing he wanted was to put Jeno’s life at risk. “Right?”

“Yes, I can,” Jeno assured. “It’s not my first time doing something like this.” Now that he thought about it, Jeno had quite the resume under his belt. “There won’t be anyone outside on patrol though, right?”

“There are guards stationed around the palace walls,” Mark explained. “But they’ll be placed around gates and passages with only a few scattered around in the general vicinity. As long as you’re fast and quiet, it’s unlikely anyone will spot you. After all, we’re meant to be on the lookout for threats on the ground.”

“I doubt anyone would expect someone to scale the palace walls,” Jaemin mused. “So I guess we do have a plan.”

“A very loose plan,” Jaehyun pointed out. “And we don’t play a part in it.”

“Well, do you have any suggestions?”

Jaehyun scowled. “For one, we need to ensure that the Regent doesn’t enter his office while Jeno is inside. So we need precise timings. We also need to ensure that the guards around the area don’t grow suspicious in case they do hear movements inside. And most importantly, we need to give Jeno a reason to not be glued to your side.”

“I can take care of that,” Jaemin assured. “We can put up a bit of an act, can’t we?” He asked Jeno, tilting his chin up as if he were picking a fight. Cocky and infuriating. A very familiar image. “Nanny.”

Jeno sighed, pulling his lips into a tight smile. “Yes, your Highness?”

“Oh that was uncomfortable,” Mark commented, pulling his shoulders in. 

“See? We have a week and a bit to show everyone how much we can’t stand each other,” Jaemin continued. “As for the guards, I will entrust them to you. Mess with their rotas. Make them lose sleep. Distract them with meaningless queries and tasks. Anything to ensure that Jeno is safe. Understood?”

“That’s easier said than done,” Jaehyun pointed out. 

“Then don’t bother. Pretend that this conversation never happened and leave Jeno and I to take care of everything-”

“That’s not what I said,” Jaehyun interrupted. “We’ll do it. If what you say is true, then doing nothing would be our greatest failure as your loyal servants.”

Taken aback, Jaemin looked at the guard, lips forming a small o. It took him a moment or two to realise that Jaehyun had in fact agreed, the flaring nerves which had previously spurred ramblings slowly died out. And now, he was met with the reality of his situation. He was not alone, no matter how much he still subconsciously tried to distance himself from everyone. 

“Oh… In that case, thank you,” Jaemin said, uncharacteristically shy. It was cute. Very cute. “I- I appreciate your help. You-” he glanced down to his feet, uncertainty flooding his body. “I’m sorry. For everything. I know I shouldn’t have been so… cold towards you two. So I apologise for that.”

“It’s water under the bridge,” Jaehyun said. “As long as you trust us now.”

“I do,” Jaemin assured. “I do.”

“In that case, we are happy to serve. Isn’t that right, Mark?”

“Of course,” the other guard replied. 

Maybe it was as easily done as said. 

The guards stuck around for a bit longer, mainly to press Jeno some more about his intentions. But as they did so, Jaemin made sure to cling onto Jeno to prove his point that Jeno was in fact of no threat to them. In a way, Jeno felt like a big dog being shown off, his owner assuring passersby that he did not bite even if his history would show otherwise. Jaemin was protective of Jeno though Jeno couldn’t say anything bad about it when he too was the same, unable to stomach the mere thought of harm coming Jaemin’s way. 

Sometimes, when Jeno caught a glance of Jaemin’s throat he still felt sick - stomach churning and hands shaking, remembering the thin line of crimson made by his blade. The wound had all but healed, now a thin and faint line across his tender skin. Jaemin assured him that he didn’t even realise he had been hurt in the first place, working a pleasantly fragranced oil into his skin in the morning and in the evening, very clearly aware of the cut. 

The scent of the ointment was sweet - like honey and flower petals - hiding the nasty nature of the injury. 

Jeno wanted to kiss it better.

The longer the two guards hounded Jeno with questions, the more apparent it became that he was sincere when it came to Jaemin. Jaehyun was somewhere between annoyed and comforted by it. 

In the end, Jaehyun declared “I still don’t completely trust you. But I… I will have faith for now.”

That’s more than Jeno expected. 

And so, after an incessant round of questions - not all of which were just about Jeno - it was time for the four to part ways. 

“It’s probably for the two of you to leave without us,” Jaemin stated. “Far less suspicious.”

“I agree, but you do have to admit that it will look…”

“Like the two of you had a secret rendezvous?” Jaemin completed. “Because yes, it will look like that. I do hope the two of you are seeing each other with good feelings though.”

Jaehyun rolled his eyes whilst Mark faked a gag. 

But they did finally leave.

And then there were two.

“Well that… That happened,” Jaemin uttered, deflating by Jeno’s side. “That drained me.”

“You did well. And see? They want to help.”

Jaemin sighed, leaning back to lay flat on the smooth rock. “I can’t help but feel like it’s all too late though. You can tell, can’t you? We have nothing and we might still have nothing after my birthday. We’re grasping at straws.”

Jeno glanced down at Jaemin, their eyes locking onto each other. “Perhaps,” he admitted. “But it’s better to grasp at straws than completely give up. There’s far more at play now than either of us could have ever imagined. We can’t let your uncle have his way.”

“I know,” the younger man admitted, reaching his hand out for Jeno, intertwing their fingers together. “I really am lucky to have you, aren’t I?”

“Now you’re just getting overly emotional,” Jeno teased, leaning down nevertheless, face hovering an inch above Jaemin. 

“Are you complaining?”

“Never, your Highness.”

Jaemin grinned. “That’s Jaemin to you.”

♤♡◇♧

Acting like they couldn’t stand each other was quite fun if Jeno had to be honest. In a way it felt like when they first met, although this time around they were playing it up for the spectacle. Jaemin would purposefully make a show of being annoyed by Jeno in front of the palace staff and the Regent, and to that, Jeno would roll his eyes dramatically behind the Prince’s back. He would exchange knowing glances with some of the guards or the maids and even Junmyeon when the two retainers were together. 

“And here I thought you two were getting used to each other,” Junmyeon mused, walking Jeno down from another staff meeting in preparation for the upcoming birthday party as well as the coronation right after that. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened,” Jeno assured. “The Prince is simply difficult to take care of; one moment he can be calm and collected, and the next he’s purposefully dropping his fork on the floor so that I have to pick it up and get him a new one. He’s…”

“Childish?”

“I was going to say mischievous but I suppose childish works too,” Jeno said, thinking back to the afternoon tea Jaemin had to sit through with the Regent as well as a Lady that seemed to be particularly close to the older man. Jaemin clearly had enough of the two, and to entertain himself, he decided to rile Jeno up. He knocked over a glass, and then dropped his fork, following up with staining his white shirt with a raspberry puree. 

Each time, Jeno came up to fix it. Clean up. 

If this occurred before - right when Jeno first came to the palace and before he knew who Jaemin truly was - then he probably would have cursed the younger man internally, and maybe even spat in his food before serving it to him if he was really being that petty. But as it stood now, Jeno could only feign his annoyance, fighting back the smile as he looked at Jaemin, placing a new fork down on the table for the Prince. 

“Ah. Most people think he’s childish,” the older retainer uttered. “I didn’t mean to imply that I think so. But mayhaps he’s getting bored and needs enrichment,” Junmyeon mused. 

“Is tormenting me meant to be therapeutic for him?”

Junmyeon shrugged. “I just think he likes the attention; whether it’s positive or negative doesn’t seem to really matter to him. It’s better than being ignored, don’t you think?” And there was something about the way he posed that last question that carried a particularly heavy sadness to it. As if he knew. As if he, perhaps, was part of the issue, fully aware of it.

Something about Junmyeon, Jeno realised, felt far kinder than he remembered. Of course, the man had treated him well his entire time at the palace and he had offered Jeno guidance when needed (as well as some casual chatter in their down time), but that wasn’t what Jeno was referring to in this instance. Instead, the kindness Jeno felt was that towards Jaemin. 

Perhaps the older retainer wasn’t sprouting praises for the Prince, but he also didn’t seem to write him off in the same way other palace staff did. And whilst the way he spoke of Jaemin would paint a certain picture of him, the truth of the matter was that, despite sounding like he pitied the young Prince, he also seemed to understand his actions far more than one would expect. Maybe gossiping behind the Prince’s back was above him, but he also restrained himself from partaking in the chatter other staff would. 

“Prince Jaemin was never the same. I have to say, it is heartbreaking looking back at it; he used to be such a bright young boy.”

That’s the furthest he would go. He didn’t call him crazy. He didn’t reprimand him. He just seemed to… see a young boy, lost.

“Can I ask you something?” 

Junmyeon hummed, looking over at Jeno with a welcoming smile. “Of course.”

Jeno considered his next words, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “What do you think of the Prince?”

“I- Well, I- I wasn’t expecting that out of all the questions,” Junmyeon mused, stumbling over his words more than Jeno had ever heard him. “Though I must admit that I think that the Prince is a fine young man. Perhaps a little… disorientated at times and lacking a strong footing in certain fields, but he is perseverant. Not everyone would be able to grow up the way he did after… well, after he lost his parents,” he added, the mention of the late King and Queen seemingly striking a tender spot within him. “It’s strange how things can change in just the blink of an eye, don’t you think?”

Jeno nodded. He knew first hand.

“King Yuhan’s death was a shock for sure, though one which made sense,” Junmyeon continued. “Lost at sea, taken by the waves. But Queen Suhye… You never expect a common cold to suddenly take someone’s life - not the life of someone as strong as herself,” he explained. “And the Prince was so young when it happened. I thought that fate had been far too cruel to him.”

“You seem quite fond of him.”

Junmyeon smiled. Oddly sad. “Of course I am. It’s hard not to be.”

“Then do you… Do you think he will make a good King?”

“Of course,” Junmyeon replied without hesitation. “As I said: I was here when the King and Queen were still alive; I served them just as I have served Regent Hosung, and I saw who they were as people. And when I look at the Prince, I see both of them still alive within him. Even if it takes him some time, he is the child of his mother and father. He will make a fine King.”

“And have you ever told him that?”

All of Junmyeon’s responses up to now sounded genuine yet planned out; it wasn’t everything he wanted to say, yet he was sincere nevertheless. There was more buried beneath all of it.

Embarrassed, Junmyeon glanced away. “I admit that I have not,” he said. “But it is not really my place to engage in casual conversation with the Prince. Though… I would hope he knows that I think well of him,” he continued, a wet glint of something akin to sadness behind his eyes. “You know, I remember him when he was still this small,” he said, spreading his hands around twenty inches apart. “When you see them grow up from that… You want the best for them. You believe in them. So I believe in him too. And even if he can be a bit of a pain to deal with, I do hope you believe in him too,” Junmyeon concluded, offering Jeno a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder.

It wasn’t everything he wanted to say. Jeno knew that for certain. 

“Yeah. I do.”

Junmyeon smiled. “I’m glad,” he uttered. He glanced down, somewhat forlorn. “Perhaps I haven’t been the best towards him myself. Though I do hope he knows that I have complete faith in him. That we all do.”

He meant it. Jeno felt it, sharp and poignant, the regret behind his voice like a knife right to the chest. Unexpected.

Jeno wasn’t sure what to make of it. So he simply hummed, tucking the whole interaction away into another corner of his mind - perhaps to be used at a later date to remind Jaemin that there were people who cared for him. He wasn’t alone. Not as alone as he believed himself to be.

At the end of their respective schedules, Jeno and Jaemin would meet again. Jeno would pick the Prince up from a fitting or a rare meeting to discuss seating arrangements and order of events for the birthday celebration - something which Jaemin was shocked to see he was actually allowed to have a say in - and he would lead Jaemin either for a meal or back to his chambers. 

Either way, they would be alone together.

Alone to talk. Alone to touch. Alone to kiss.

Ignoring the table set out with a sweet fruit tea and a decadent slice of chocolate cake, Jaemin honed in on Jeno the second that the butler left and the doors were finally closed shut. 

The Prince rushed forward toward Jeno, causing the younger man to stumble back with an airy laughter, his lower back meeting the edge of a drawer chest. Thankfully, this time around he made less of an impact against the furniture, sparing another poor vase from an untimely demise.

“I missed you,” Jaemin declared, his eyes locked with Jeno, a besotted smile stretched across his lips. “Did you miss me too?”

Jeno rolled his eyes, folding his arms over his chest as Jaemin caged him, hands gripping onto the edge of the dresser at either side of Jeno’s waist. “You ask that as if we hadn’t seen each other at all today,” Jeno said, his heart swelling at the playful flicker in Jaemin’s eyes. He was a lot to handle even before they were honest with their feelings, but now, Jaemin was a completely different beast. 

It hadn’t even been all that long, but Jaemin would steal glances at Jeno at any given opportunity. He would seek him out, and if he could, he would try to touch Jeno. Innocent, sweet touches meant just between them: the brushing of hands and shoulders. And Jeno could feel the desire churning inside of him, but Jaemin didn’t dare act on it. Instead, he allowed himself only the smallest slivers of gratification, knowing that they meant just as much - if not more - as devouring Jeno with his affection. 

All it was was a desire to be with Jeno in whatever way possible to them. Just the mere brush of their fingertips was enough to send a spark down Jeno’s spine, feeling the sheer weight of Jaemin’s blazing adoration for him. It was utterly tantalising. 

Jeno felt wanted in a way he had never experienced before. He wanted in a way he had never wanted before. Enough to seek a simple touch. A stolen glance. 

Jaemin was filled with so much desire and love, practically bursting at the seams with it. Yet his restraint was what made it all the more alluring to Jeno. 

“Is this how it’s going to be from now on?” Jeno asked, very much finding Jaemin’s lovestruck attitude endearing. 

“I don’t know. Maybe,” Jaemin replied honestly with a smirk. “Does this annoy you?”

“I never said that.”

Jaemin hummed, pleased by the response. “It’s not fair though; if not for… well, everything happening right now, I wouldn’t be able to get my hands off you. You don’t know how hard I’ve tried already.”

“It’s not even been a full day.”

“Not that,” Jaemin said, shaking his head. “Before… Before we kissed for the first time. Before I told you how I feel… Even when I still hadn’t confronted you about why you’re here… I really wanted to… I…”

“You really wanted what?” Jeno asked, leaning forward ever so slightly to meet Jaemin’s averted gaze. “What did you want?”

“You,” he admitted, his whole heart poured out into the confession. A single word, yet so potent. “Even when I thought you were going to kill me, I couldn’t help but think of you. Reading in the gardens, riding the horses together, drawing each other. In the mornings when you woke me up and when I took you to my secret spot, all I could think of was you. When you- when you fixed my mother’s handkerchief for me and when you held me when I cried… Each time, I wanted to touch you and hold you and never let go,” he explained, swallowing the tension in the air. “I was scared, but I wanted you.”

Jeno didn’t even know where to start, feeling as if this were far more of a meaningful confession than the actual one. 

“And now I have you.”

“Are you still scared?”

Jaemin smiled, nodding faintly. “Like you wouldn’t believe it.”

Jeno reached for Jaemin’s face, cupping his cheeks between his hands, forcing the Prince to look at him properly. “I’m not going anywhere if that’s what you’re scared of,” he assured. “Quite frankly I don’t think there’s anyone else out there that could put up with you.”

The Prince laughed, acknowledging the truth in Jeno’s words. 

“But… If you’re scared of anything else, then you have to tell me,” Jeno continued. 

Jaemin nuzzled his face into Jeno’s hands, in that moment acting no different than a cat hungry for affection. As he rubbed himself closer, his lips brushed Jeno’s palms, placing a delicate kiss to the skin. “I’m scared of a lot of things,” he stated. “For one, I’m scared of my own emotions.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know if it’s too much,” Jaemin explained. “Every time I look at you I- I feel so much and I- I don’t know if it’s too much - or maybe too little.”

Cute.

“It’s like there’s a well in my chest,” Jaemin continued, pointing to himself. “It was practically dry but then bit by bit the water kept rising and rising. And at some point it started overflowing. It’s flooding now and I- I don’t know what to do with all this water.”

“You can give it to me,” Jeno said. “Not that my metaphorical well is dry, but it can handle it. You know, I think a dam might have been a better analogy.”

At that, Jaemin laughed. “Alright. So there’s a dam in my heart-”

Jeno lightly punched Jeno’s arm, causing the Prince to laugh harder. “I mean it though,” Jeno said. “If you want to share anything, you can share it with me. The good and the bad. If you’re happy and your well is overflowing with… love and happiness and whatnot and it feels like it’s too much for you to handle, then share it with me. The same goes if you’re sad or… I don’t know.”

“You’re so good with words,” Jaemin said, an attempt to tease Jeno only for it to come across as genuine. “I really do love you. I don’t know exactly when it happened, but I love you so much. It feels like- like it’s overflowing.”

“I know,” Jeno replied fondly, brushing his thumbs over Jaemin’s cheeks. “And I love you too. I also don’t know exactly when that happened. Not that I think that that’s important anyway.”

Jaemin hummed, scooting himself closer towards Jeno, forcing the older man to spread his legs open for him. 

“I meant it when I said I missed you,” Jaemin stated.

“I know.”

“You don’t find it annoying?”

“What gave you that impression?”

Jaemin shrugged. 

“I missed you too,” Jeno finally admitted. He probably should have said that from the start. He meant it anyway. “Though it was fun acting like I couldn’t stand you.”

Jaemin grinned. “Yeah, it was fun. You’re so cute when you get riled up.”

“Cute?”

The Prince hummed, progressively closing the distance between them. “Very cute,” he confirmed, his hands now finding themselves where they so desperately itched to be, taking hold of Jeno’s waist once and for all. “Though I don’t want you to be annoyed with me. Not really. I do like it when you roll your eyes or scold me a little,” Jaemin admitted. “But just a bit.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jeno mused, words tinged with a smile. 

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t.”

“What if I scare you away?”

“With what?”

“With how much I want you,” Jaemin replied. 

“That’s not going to scare me away,” Jeno assured. “We’re in this together, aren’t we?”

Jaemin licked his lip. “Yeah,” he uttered airly, eyes flickering from Jeno’s eyes and lips. “Together.”

“Together,” Jeno repeated. “So how about you finally kiss me? After all, I’ve missed you too.” And Jeno meant it wholeheartedly, no matter how playful or ridiculous it might have sounded. Because he really did miss Jaemin - the real Jaemin that only he had the pleasure of witnessing and not the act he put up for everyone else. Even if he did see him today, it wasn’t the Jaemin that his heart craved.

But now, he had him just like he wanted. Open and real. Somewhat scared and nervous, but truly himself.

Jaemin smiled, a shaky, airy exhale passing his softly parted lips. “You know, when you say all that I really don’t know what to do with myself.”

“You could kiss me for one,” Jeno suggested, running his hands up Jaemin’s chest, tugging at the neatly tied lace at the front of his shirt. It was such a pain to do up in the morning and now Jeno was about to undo his handiwork. “How does that sound?” He asked, locking eyes with Jaemin, their noses brushing. “Hmm?”

When he was with Jaemin, Jeno felt comfortable. He felt like he could be himself, no secrets left between them. It was strange in that regard; after all, Jeno had to be on his guard constantly, only granted a moment of peace when he was at home - the small, uninspiring four walls back in Onyan that offered a momentary respite from the world at large. Even on jobs he was on alert at all times, perhaps only ever finding peace for a few hours after falling asleep. 

But now he had Jaemin who saw him as he was and he accepted him all the same. He made it so easy for Jeno to let go and slip into his own desires. 

The desire to be seen and loved.

No one has ever loved him like this before. 

Jeno has never loved someone like this. 

It was all new to him. Frightening, really. Yet with Jaemin, he knew he could get over that fear. It would be worth it in the end. 

“What if I take it too far?” Jaemin asked, holding himself back, eyes dipping to Jeno’s lips. 

“You won’t,” Jeno assured. “And you haven’t. One broken vase isn’t something to cry about,” he added.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean?”

Jaemin swallowed, inching closer, their lips a hair’s breadth apart. Jeno could feel his breath, the gentle, warm exhale. “There’s a dam in my heart,” he uttered. “Overflowing. And I want you in ways which I cannot comprehend. And I- I’m scared that if I don’t hold myself back I’ll hurt you.”

Jeno gasped, feeling a fiery stir in the pit of his stomach. His thighs spread themselves wider open, allowing Jaemin to slip in closer, inviting him in. He understood what Jaemin meant, his blazing longing tangible. He sensed it in the way he held him, tight and wanting but nevertheless restrained. It was clear in the way he kissed him, starved yet so clearly holding back from completely devouring. 

Jaemin wanted with his entire being.

“You won’t,” Jeno said, stroking Jaemin's neck up to his jaw, holding him steady. “You won’t hurt me,” he repeated firmly. “So just kiss me already.”

Jaemin whimpered at how sternly Jeno spoke, wanting the Prince just as badly.

“Alright?”

“Alright.”

Jeno smiled. “Good.”

Neither of them wanting to wait any more, they both lunged forward. Jaemin was wary at first, testing the waters before he gave into his own thirst. Jeno parted for him, welcoming his eager tongue inside as his legs spread wider for him, urging Jaemin to pull himself in closer until their fronts were completely pressed together. 

Jeno’s eyes rolled back when he felt Jaemin rub against his crotch, forgetting just how wonderful it could feel to have another in his embrace. Learning just how good it could be when there was more to it than just pure, crazed lust. 

He rolled his hips to seek out the friction, surprising Jaemin in the process. The Prince gasped, his hold on Jeno’s waist tightening, a shudder running down his spine. He was only given a second to recover before Jeno repeated the motion all whilst kissing him breathless, pulling him down with his grasp on the lace and Jaemin’s jaw. 

If Jaemin was scared of his own desire, then Jeno would prove to him that it was nothing to worry about. He would show him just how much Jeno could take. Just how much he wanted to take, gagging for it more than Jaemin could ever comprehend. He was lost in his own eagerness, reeling Jaemin in, dragging him down under and making him plunge into the sea of his own rapture. 

If Jaemin wanted to give and take and consume, then Jeno would gladly let him. 

If Jaemin feared that it was too much, then Jeno would prove to him he could take all of it and then some more. 

It was love and carnal desire. It was an ache deep in the bones, thrumming with an urge to leap forward and sink sharp teeth into soft, yielding flesh. Jeno would let Jaemin draw blood. He would give him everything, just like he knew Jaemin would do the same for him. 

He kissed him deeper, bending over the dresser as Jaemin followed after the press of his lips. Jaemin was desperate to taste all of him, humming in appreciation as he consumed all that there was, Jeno a delectable meal beneath him. The richest of chocolate, sweetest of fruit. Indulgent and thick like a river of honey, drowning in all that was Jeno. 

Hands itching and covetous untucked Jeno’s shirt from his slacks, tugging the neatly ironed white fabric up to expose the canvas of smooth skin pulled taut over muscle that was Jeno’s abdomen. They caressed the dips and curves. Jaemin sucked in a sharp breath as his hands roamed freely, encouraged by Jeno’s ravenous kiss, wet and joined with sinful, muted croons and whimpers.

Jaemin pulled away momentarily just to see. Just to witness Jeno as he was underneath him, completely wanting and willing for all that he was aching to give. The salacious painting laid out in front of him caused him to groan, hips bucking against Jeno subconsciously. He couldn’t get enough of him, grazing his hands all over with candid adoration so staggering it punched all the air out of Jeno’s lungs. 

“You’re beautiful,” Jaemin uttered softly as if spoken in secret, so sincere and sweet. Absolutely devastating. Jeno whimpered from the weight of it, never being treated as tenderly as with Jaemin. “You- I can’t tell if you’re real or not,” the younger man continued, daring his hands to reach Jeno’s hips, stopped by the waistband of his tailored slacks. “Are you real?”

“What do you think?” Jeno replied, struggling to breathe. He reached down for Jaemin’s hand, urging him to let his hands wander even further towards the heat at his groin. “Does this feel real?” He asked, body shuddering and squirming once Jaemin’s hand finally reached the tent forming in his pants, hot and needy. 

Jaemin looked down, locked in on the sinful sight. He licked his lips, pressing down over the hardness to make Jeno moan, the sound suppressed by a hand over his mouth, not wanting anyone outside to hear. The guards couldn’t hear this. Jaemin lifted his hand before slowly pressing down again, slowly picking up a rhythm, palming Jeno’s length with fascination. 

“It feels like I’m dreaming,” Jaemin admitted, watching as Jeno twitched beneath him, muscles flexing and straining from the attention his throbbing cock was receiving. “Jeno,” he called, the name sounding like a prayer on his lips. “Jeno,” he continued, leaning down towards the man, lips gliding across Jeno’s stomach, kissing every rivet. 

Jeno trembled, burying his hands in Jaemin’s hair, legs wrapping around the man’s waist, refusing to let him go. It only spurred Jaemin forward, reciprocating Jeno’s eagerness tenfold. He kissed up and up all whilst his hand taunted Jeno’s dick, seeing just how much it made Jeno shake and whine with want. 

Worshipping lips trailed further to Jeno’s throat, teeth scraping across the flushed skin. Jeno noticed the hesitation, sensing just how much Jaemin considered biting him, piercing the flesh until it drew blood. Jeno keened, throwing his head back in offering, pushing Jaemin’s head down to his throat in a plea for more. And though he waited for a moment more, Jaemin ultimately couldn’t hold himself back any longer. 

Jaemin kissed the column of his throat, lapping his tongue over the delicate skin, nipping it with his teeth and sucking like he so desperately wanted, losing himself in the moment. Jeno knew he would probably regret letting Jaemin go wild with his throat, the skin exposed at every point of the day, but he also couldn’t find it within himself to care in the moment. Instead, he allowed himself to indulge in the sensation, nothing but utmost devotion pouring out of Jaemin’s heart. 

The hand at his cock moved back to his waist and stomach, hungrily touching him all over, needing to commit every single line of his body to memory. Jeno mourned the loss but not for long as he hiked his leg higher up Jaemin’s middle, arching his back to grind against the Prince. 

“I love you,” Jaemin rasped, bucking his hips against Jeno, meeting him half-way. “I love you,” he continued as he kissed along Jeno’s throat, reaching his ear where he echoed the sentiment again and again before rolling Jeno’s earlobe between his teeth. Jeno mewled, grinding against Jaemin with zeal, tears brimming his eyes from the tenderness of Jaemin’s words and the ardor of his hips. “I love you so much.”

Jeno let out a choked sob, yanking Jaemin by the hair to bring him back to his lips, needing to kiss him before he completely lost his mind. Jaemin didn’t protest, smiling into the exchange - a sweet respite amidst the fervour of their rocking hips, seeking out each other and the mind-shattering bliss provided by the friction. They were both close, rutting against one another, clothed cocks aching with impending release. 

Jeno couldn’t even find it in himself to care about how pathetic he must have looked, willing to get off with just this. If it were anyone else, Jeno would be ashamed. Embarrassed. But this was Jaemin, and with him, everything felt right. He just couldn’t contain how much he coveted him, so helplessly desperate for his touch that he could fall apart just like this.

Bent over across a dresser, fully clothed, used for a quick high, Jeno should have been burning with shame. How used was he to this now? How many times had he been put in the same position? How many times has he been pressed down by clients, victims, and men he had to distract in one way or another? Jeno lost count. He lost the ability to care, his body nothing more than a tool and a means to an end. 

But it was different with Jaemin. 

It was different in the way he touched him. In the way he wanted him - every little part of him - to the point he couldn’t contain himself any longer. 

It was the reverence in his kiss and caress. The devotion in his eyes and words.

It was the love surrounding Jeno all around.

“I love you,” Jaemin breathed, the severity of it so heavy and crushing. “I- I-”

“I love you too,” Jeno said, cupping Jaemin’s face and holding him firmly. “It’s alright. I love you,” he continued, feeling just how much Jaemin struggled with the emotions pouring out of his heart freely. 

He had so much love, holding onto it and carrying it around all this time. All this love he didn’t know what to do with. All this love which felt like an ocean being held back by a wooden dam about to give under the pressure. It was a love which terrified him. Too much. Too overbearing. It could hurt. It could suffocate and drown. So much love and so little space for it.

Yet Jeno was open to it. 

“I love you,” Jeno said with ease he never thought he could muster. 

Because he loved. He loved Jaemin, and that was all that mattered.

“I think I- Can I-”

“It’s alright,” Jeno assured. “I’m the same.”

Jaemin whimpered, sharply snapping his hips forward. It drew out a broken cry from Jeno, muffled only by Jaemin’s kiss. They were both so close, and second by second it felt impossible to hold on any longer. Jeno tried to find purchase in Jaemin’s hair and the fabric of his shirt and anything Jeno could hold onto. His legs wrapped around Jaemin tightened, trapping him in a python-like hold as he continued to use the leverage to seek out the alluring friction. 

Second by second, neither of them could hold back any more.

Jaemin came first, the force of his orgasm crashing down on him like a wave, entire body succumbing to it. He jutted his hips frantically, mouth open in a messy, heated kiss as a low moan rumbled in his throat. He continued to sway into Jeno until the man beneath finally cracked, muscles contracting and rippling. 

The wetness behind his eyes spilled and trailed down his temples, a blissed out smile spreading across his face. 

Jaemin kissed him through all of it, easing him down from his high. Ears ringing and vision blurry, Jeno thought his soul slipped out of his body at some point. Maybe it did. Nonetheless, Jaemin was there to bring him back down to earth with his languid kisses and the ministrations of his hands over Jeno’s waist. 

In the end, they both collapsed into a pile of boneless limbs.

It took Jeno a minute to form a single coherent thought. 

“So, do I look hurt to you?” Jeno asked, glancing down at Jaemin who needed a few seconds to process what exactly Jeno had just said. But when he finally understood, he responded with a tired laugh, hot hands stroking up Jeno’s sides. “And before you mention the tears, those are very happy tears.”

Jaemin hummed, placing a kiss at the corner of Jeno’s mouth. Then a few more along his cheek and neck before he subsequently pulled himself up, wincing at the wet mess in his pants. He glanced down, glad to see that there were no glaring signs that he just came beneath his clothes. 

“Good?” Jeno asked, licking over his spit-glossed lips. 

“Really good. You?”

Jeno grinned. “Really good,” he echoed, hauling himself upright. Jaemin helped him, hands itching to go back to their rightful spot on Jeno’s waist. “Even if I feel disgusting and sticky under all of this,” he added, pulling a sour face when he shifted his legs and felt his release soaking into the fabric of his underwear. He’s definitely dealt with worse, but it still was unpleasant. 

“I’m sorry.”

At that, Jeno flicked Jaemin’s forehead. 

“Alright, then I’m not sorry.”

Jeno rolled his eyes.

“So complicated,” the Prince huffed, unable to contain his smile as Jeno furrowed his brow and frowned. To appease Jeno, he leaned in to steal a kiss from his lips. That did in fact satisfy Jeno, humming into the delicate, loving kiss. “Though I am sorry for making a mess out of you. I didn’t think I would- Well, I didn’t think I could get so…”

“Handsy? Eager?”

“Yes.”

Jeno shrugged. “Nothing to be sorry about,” he stated. “I like it.”

“You do?”

“I do,” he confirmed. “So don’t worry about being too much, alright? Because you’re not too much. You’re just right for me. But now, I really need to clean up. You probably do too, but quite frankly that is not my problem.”

Jaemin whined. 

“I’m going to wash up and you can have your tea in peace.”

“You’re going?”

“Am I meant to wash up here?” Jeno asked, looking around the room. “With what? The tea?”

To be honest, if Jaemin was as hungry as he so clearly seemed to be…

No. Not the time. Not the place. Jeno was not going to suggest that Jaemin licked him clean like some animal. 

Even if it would be hot. 

Jaemin would probably combust if he had to do that. He was shy about some frottage, let alone oral. Jeno wasn’t going to suggest something so scandalous just yet to a bumbling virgin like Jaemin.

“I don’t know…” Jaemin uttered, looking around as well. “Maybe I could help?”

Jeno blinked, too stunned to speak.

He wasn’t expecting that.

“No?”

“Another time,” Jeno replied, cursing the strain in his voice and the heat rising to his face. “You just- Just do your own thing, alright? I’ll be back soon.”

“You’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

Jeno pushed himself off the dresser, shuddering at how disgusting his cum felt against his skin. He wore a distasteful expression, annoyed and disgruntled. “If I walk out like this I’m certain the guard outside will think I want to murder you.” 

Jaemin laughed, taking in Jeno’s appearance. “That’s good though, isn’t it? All part of the act. Unless you do want to kill me right now, in which case I am somewhat wounded. After all, I thought we had something special going on.”

“Keep talking and I might reconsider,” Jeno said, causing Jaemin to laugh again. And when he laughed, Jeno really couldn’t be annoyed at him. He could only smile, far too fond of the Prince. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t get up to any trouble whilst I’m gone.”

“I can’t make any promises,” Jaemin replied, pulling Jeno in for a brief peck on the lips. “But I’ll try my hardest for you.”

♤♡◇♧

Jeno looked down at the parchment in front of him, his letter to Johnny barely getting anywhere. He wanted to write something to the older man to make him feel like everything was smooth sailing inside the palace walls. Of course, he did write a letter not too long ago, but he barely said anything. In fact, Jeno didn’t even know what he wrote back then. 

Either way, Jeno was back in his room, wondering what he could possibly say to Johnny.

He couldn’t tell him about Jaemin. He couldn’t tell him about how much he loved him and how he simply couldn’t and wouldn’t kill him. But he also had to say something.

He had to say something to make it clear that Jeno wasn’t betraying Johnny.

So Jeno mentioned the funeral. He mentioned how it seemed that perhaps the late Earl Xiao and Jaemin were closer than expected. However, Jeno didn’t mention anything about Dejun. Just in case. If anything happened to the Earl’s son because of him, Jeno wouldn’t be able to face Jaemin. Hence, he skirted around the topic and instead added some complaints into his letter, describing just how annoying the Prince was, smiling as he spun the lies on paper. 

He enjoys making my life hell, and quite frankly it has gotten even worse.

Jeno thought of Jaemin’s hands and lips all over. He remembered how breathless he felt, body limp as Jaemin made him feel ecstasy unlike anything he experienced before. 

He’s taken to art as well, gifting me with the most horrendous portraits of myself. I would send you one but I fear that you will agree with his artistic renditions of myself.

Jaemin still liked to draw Jeno, improving now that he had firsthand experience with Jeno’s lips and body. And whilst he still had some way to go, Jeno treasured the sketches the Prince gave him. Of course, not all of them were of Jeno; some were of the places they frequented together. Of the meals they shared. Moments just for them. 

And Jeno reciprocated with sketches of his own, only for Jaemin to look at them and fondly state “I still like the first one the most.”

The first one being of their horse ride together, the folded paper stored safely in Jaemin’s bedside drawer.

By the end Jeno finished his letter and read through it he had no other option than to scrap it completely.

Even as he tried to complain and speak unfavourably of the Prince, Jeno was incapable of concealing his true feelings for the man. It was impossible. 

So he had to try again, mentioning very little.

Probably for the best.

The coronation is soon. Should I await specific instructions for the day, or am I fine to just kill him before he’s made King?

Jeno’s hand trembled as he wrote kill, unable to stomach the idea of harming Jaemin.

I’ll talk to you later.

♤♡◇♧

Jeno was curious. 

In the evening, after a last minute meeting regarding the birthday party being thrown at the palace tomorrow, Jeno returned to the staff quarters knowing that Jaemin was too preoccupied with countless fittings, going through an entire closet of outfits to decide on the one for the big day. As much as Jeno would have loved to see Jaemin grumbling at how tedious the whole thing was, he decided he deserved a break. After all, Jaemin would undoubtedly share all the details with him later.

Jeno grabbed himself a quick snack, passing Yeojin on his way. The older woman looked tired, only offering Jeno a knowing eyeroll as if to say “it’s hectic, right?”

With a cheese scone in hand, Jeno looked around the common area, surprised to find Mark off his shift. The guard was hunched over, forehead pressed to the edge of the round wooden table he sat out, a thin book spread across his lap. Probably not the most comfortable position to read in, but Jeno wasn’t one to judge. 

If Jeno’s conversations with Jaehyun were brief, then those with Mark might as well have been nonexistent. And so, wanting to bridge the gap between them, Jeno took his snack over to the table, pulling the seat opposite Mark for himself.

Surprised by the company, Mark looked up, quirking a curious eyebrow at Jeno.

“Can I help?” He asked. 

Jeno shrugged. “Can I sit with you?”

Mark looked around, counting the dozens of empty spots Jeno could have taken instead.

“Sure.” Rather awkwardly, Mark dog eared the page he was on in his book before closing it and placing it face down on the table. “Did you want to talk about something?” A pause, checking if anyone was around. “About tomorrow?”

Jeno shook his head. “No, it’s not about tomorrow,” he assured. “I suppose I just wanted to say hi. We haven’t really talked much, have we?”

The guard hummed in confirmation. 

“Not much to talk about, I guess,” Jeno continued, glancing down at his scone. “But you know, there is something I wanted to ask. But now with everything going on, I thought maybe now would be a good time?”

“What is it?”

“The three of you,” Jeno said. “You, Jaehyun and Jaemin. What exactly happened?”

“Can’t you ask Jaemin?”

“I can,” Jeno admitted. “But there are things that I feel he has a… certain view of, and it isn’t necessarily correct,” he explained. “A skewed perception.”

“Ah. Right. Yeah, I guess,” Mark mused. 

“You were close though, right?”

Mark nodded. “We were,” he confirmed. “Although Jaehyun was the closest to Jaemin. Both of his parents worked in the palace; his mother was a guard and his father a gardener, so when he was born he lived here too. The Queen was rather nice when it came to the staff, letting their kids play with Jaemin. So when he was in the palace and not doing anything Princely, the two would play together.”

“And you?”

“My father was a guard,” Mark explained. “But my mother was a civilian. She lived outside the palace and I lived with her. But then… she passed away - long term illness.”

“I’m sorry.”

Mark shrugged. “It wasn’t something we weren’t expecting. But when she did pass away, I was allowed to come to the palace and live with my father. Of course, it meant I would work in the palace after growing up - such is the case for children that grow up here. And as it happened, I was the same age as the Prince. The three of us were close for a while.”

“And then?”

“And then the Queen died.”

Everything fell apart then. 

Jaemin’s entire life was uprooted the moment his mother passed away. 

“The Prince grieved, and in his grief he pushed everyone away,” Mark continued. “At first we thought it would pass, but then he kept his distance. He shut us out no matter how hard we tried to reach out to him. I mean, we would still talk here and there, but he was on guard constantly. And over time we just… Grew apart.”

“But you don’t resent him?”

Mark shrugged. “Was I hurt that what I thought was my friend suddenly pulled away? Yes. But I also knew him. I knew who he was, and that’s why all this time I’ve stayed by his side. And it looks like maybe things will be better now. Thanks to you of all people.”

“All accidental.”

The guard laughed, light and airy - a mere exhale. “Well, it’s better than nothing - even if there’s still a long way to go. But nevertheless, thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

♤♡◇♧

“Rise and shine, your Highness,” Jeno said, pulling the curtains wide open. “It’s your big day.”

He had already kicked the bed to wake Jaemin up, the Prince groaning and rolling over in his bed. Still not a morning person. 

“You sure sound chipper,” Jaemin grumbled, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “What’s the reason anyway?”

Jeno rolled his eyes, hooking the curtains in place. “Have you forgotten what day it is today?” He asked, coming over to stand to the side by the edge of the bed, looking down at Jaemin in all his groggy early morning glory. 

Hair an absolute mess, no better than a bird’s nest. Bedshirt loose and slipping off his shoulder as the laces had become undone during the night. Cheek bearing the imprint of the pillow, fabric creasing. And like that, Jaemin looked beautiful, the sight causing Jeno’s heart to leap forward, overflowing with fondness for the Prince. He was utterly endearing like this, still grumbling and complaining about being awake.

And Jaemin caught him staring, smiling at how obvious Jeno was about it. 

“Happy Birthday, Jaemin,” Jeno said softly, watching as Jaemin’s smile spread wider and brighter, blinding Jeno with its warmth and sincerity. 

The Prince hummed, reaching out from under the covers to hold onto Jeno’s hand. “It’s already the best I’ve ever had,” he said, voice a pleasant timbre in Jeno’s ears. “And it’s only the beginning,” he added, giving Jeno’s hand a light squeeze before tugging him forward.

Jeno laughed, knees hitting the bed. He fought to stay standing, however with how committed Jaemin was to having his way, it only took a few more attempts for Jeno to stumble onto the mattress. He landed on his hands and knees, shooting Jaemin a half-hearted glare, heart fluttering as laughter bubbled in the Prince’s chest, overflowing with joy first thing in the morning. 

“This is bullying,” Jeno muttered, not resisting as Jaemin pulled him forward so that Jeno’s face hovered above his. “But I’ll let it slide this one time as it is your birthday.”

“So I’m allowed to bully you on my birthday?” Jaemin asked, cupping Jeno’s cheek with one hand, the other stroking up his arm. “Not that this is bullying.”

“Well it is teasing.”

“Teasing?” Jaemin repeated, humour tinting his voice. “I would never. Besides, as it is my birthday, I think it is only fair that I get a gift from you.”

“I’m afraid that I haven’t had the time to organise anything,” Jeno admitted. 

Though, if he were being honest, he had sketched a few things that he thought Jaemin might have liked. It wasn’t a spectacular present - not the type of thing the Prince would be expected to receive - but it was the best Jeno could do. And, if he really wanted to go out of his way, he could have sewn Jaemin something. But that required time, and ever since the two men got as close as they were, it was rare for Jeno to not be attached at the hip with the Prince. As soon as he was dismissed Jeno just went to sleep.

Perhaps that was a blunder on his part.

“That’s alright,” Jaemin assured, a permanent grin etched into his face. Warm eyes fell onto Jeno’s lips, entranced by them. “You’re all I want,” he added, breathy and hot. Jeno swallowed down a soft whine, inching his face closer, pulled in by an inescapable magnetic force until their lips pressed. 

Jaemin didn’t demand anything more from him, humming in contentment at the feeling of Jeno so close to him. It was delicate, as natural as breathing. A greeting and assurance. A secret between them, private and loving. 

“Happy birthday,” Jeno murmured into the kiss.

“The happiest,” Jaemin said, locking eyes with the man above him, completely besotted by him. “But just so you know, I expect to be woken up like this every morning moving forward. Think you can manage that?”

“Always so difficult,” Jeno uttered, punctuating his words with an overly dramatic roll of the eyes. “But I shall see what I can do.”

Pleased, Jaemin hummed and pulled Jeno back down, stealing a kiss from his gently parted lips. And as Jeno allowed himself to be captured by all of the Prince’s attention, Jaemin seemed like he couldn’t get enough of him. Taking him completely by surprise, Jaemin flipped Jeno over, forcing the man to take the empty spot in bed next to him. Once his back made contact with the bed, Jaemin rolled to his side, kissing the shock off Jeno’s face. 

“We don’t have time for this,” Jeno pointed out, tilting his head to the side to allow Jaemin to kiss a line down his throat, nose brushing over the skin, taking in his natural scent. “You have a birthday party to prepare for.”

“Just five more minutes,” Jaemin pleaded, a heavy hand finding its way onto Jeno’s side, stroking and squeezing. 

“Are you sure five minutes is enough?” Jeno asked, flashes of their secret rendezvous popping behind his eyes. 

“I won’t do anything funny,” the Prince assured. “So just five more minutes, okay? It’s my birthday,” he continued, batting his eyebrows at Jeno to convince him. 

And it worked. 

Of course it worked. 

Jeno allowed himself to be held and kissed by the Prince, humming and practically purring with joy as his hands roamed Jeno’s sides. And just like he had promised, Jaemin didn’t test his luck, keeping his attention away from anything below the waist. Honestly, Jeno couldn’t complain, loose limbed and fuzzy, he melted into the mattress, adored by Jaemin’s plush lips and wondrous hands. 

“You should just stay here with me,” Jaemin mumbled against the column of Jeno’s throat, words vibrating against the exposed skin. “Sleep with me and wake up with me in the mornings,” he elaborated. 

It sounded wonderful. 

It sounded like a life Jeno could only ever dream of, getting to lay in until late morning, wrapped up in a steady and loving embrace. He wouldn’t have to worry about a single thing, spoiled rotten by the man next to him. It almost felt cruel with how unrealistic it seemed; to an extent, maybe it was possible, but it also wasn’t as easy as Jaemin made it sound. There was just too much standing in their way.

But it didn’t have to be impossible.

“Not until you’re King,” Jeno pointed out, glancing down at Jaemin. The Prince laid his head on Jeno’s chest, lips out in a faint pout.

“But that’s so long away,” he whined. “I want it now.”

“I know.”

Jaemin huffed, squeezing Jeno’s side. “But I suppose you’re right; I doubt my uncle would buy the fact that you’re still going to kill me if you end up sleeping with me. I doubt Jaehyun would tattle, but all it takes is one other person seeing you or searching for you, wondering why you’re not in your quarters. Still, let a man fantasise.”

“I won’t stop you,” Jeno assured, playfully running his fingers through Jaemin’s messy hair. “Especially on your birthday.”

“I don’t think I’ve loved my birthday this much since I was a child,” Jaemin mused. “Now I’m just getting spoiled rotten.”

“I can play the part of a tired and snappy retainer if you so wish, your Highness.”

Jaemin shook his head. “Don’t. Let me have this, won’t you?”

“Alright, alright. I’ll indulge you this time around.”

Pleased, the Prince hummed. He nuzzled his face against Jeno’s chest, deeming Jeno as a satisfactory pillow. 

“But you really need to get up now,” Jeno said as he gave Jaemin a light tap on the back of his head. “You have a party to prepare for.”

“A party implies that I will have fun,” Jaemin pointed out. “And last I checked, everything about this celebration will make me miserable. For one: my uncle will be there,” he said, punctuating his point with a shudder. “And two: you won’t be there - at least not for the whole thing.”

“I can’t be in two places at a time.”

“Well, I would definitely love to have two of you,” the Prince said. “Twice the fun.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. One is enough.”

Jaemin chuckled, pushing himself up to hover above Jeno once more. “You’re right: one is plenty for me,” he said, capturing Jeno’s lips in a kiss. “You’re all I need.”

“Disgustingly romantic,” Jeno commented, unable to hold back his smile. “Pray tell, who exactly taught you all of this?”

“Nobody,” Jaemin stated. “I’m simply a lover at heart.”

Jeno couldn’t deny that. “You certainly are,” he mused, brushing a stray strand of hair from Jaemin’s eyes before pushing himself forward to kiss him again. “Should I be worried? What if you seduce someone else?”

“The only one I wish to seduce is yourself,” Jaemin assured. “Are you seduced?”

Jeno hummed. “I suppose I am.”

“Then I can survive today with this knowledge in mind,” the Prince said. “Although… Will you be alright tonight? Not that I’m doubting you, but I… I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“And nothing will happen,” Jeno promised. “Just… Just distract your uncle for me, alright? I’ll handle the rest. As will Jaehyun and Mark, in their own ways.”

Despite everything, Jeno noticed the worry riddling Jaemin’s expression, lips in a slight scowl and brows furrowed with underlying nerves. He reached up to smooth the crease of his brown with his thumb.

“What will they be doing anyway?”

“Standing guard like they have to,” Jeno replied. “Though I’m fairly certain they messed around with some of the guards stationed around your uncle’s office,” he added, thinking of how hectic the staff area was in the morning. 

The cooks were angry, arguing with a hoard of guards, many of whom were pale in the face to the point they looked almost green. One of them was angrier than the others, shouting about how the Regent’s personal guards were affected the most. 

Jeno nearly had his shirt stained in vomit as one of the guards nearly hurled his guts all over him. The only thing that saved him was another guard yelling out “Changkyun” before yanking the sickly man away to throw up on the floor instead. 

Whatever happened to make the guards the way they were must have been bad, and Jeno was certain that Jaehyun and Mark had something to do with it. Of course, he hadn’t received a clear confirmation, missing Jaehyun amidst all the chaos, the guard most likely being pulled away for a meeting with the other guards to reschedule in lieu of the mass food poisoning. 

Jeno wanted to ask Mark.

He should ask Mark. 

Maybe once he finally hauled Jaemin out of his bedroom. 

“Do I want to know?”

“Seems half of the guards are sick,” Jeno explained. “You should have heard the kitchen staff arguing with them. Kibum was angry. Junmyeon had to play peace keeper but that didn’t play out all too well.”

“I’ll take that as a good thing then,” Jaemin mused. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not worried for tonight. If anything does go wrong…”

“It won’t. I promise that nothing will go wrong, alright? Can you trust me on this?”

Jaemin looked at Jeno, silent and contemplative. Trust. Trust wasn’t something that came easy to the Prince, and yet when it came to Jeno he seemed abundant with it. He trusted Jeno even when he knew that Jeno was there to harm him. And he trusted him now, practically ripping his own heart out to serve it on a silver platter for Jeno, needing Jeno to take it and all the emotions it entailed. 

But could he trust him now when it was Jeno’s life on the line? Could he trust that Jeno would return unscathed, caring for him more than he seemingly cared for himself?

“You have to swear it,” Jaemin said. “Swear that you will come back to me in one piece. Swear that you won’t get hurt. Swear it.”

“I swear on my own life,” Jeno replied, stroking down the side of Jaemin’s face, cupping his cheek and tilting his head down, brushing his thumb over the man’s bottom lip. “I will always come back to you.”

“Unharmed?”

“Unharmed,” Jeno confirmed. “I promise.”

Jaemin swallowed, leaning into the touch of Jeno’s hand. “It’s a promise then. You can’t break it.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

No matter how unrealistic, Jeno would do his best. 

He would do anything for Jaemin.

He kissed him.

Chapter Text

“I’m scared,” Jaemin said, standing right outside of the doors leading towards the grand ballroom in which the main birthday celebration was taking place. The entirety of the palace’s Eastern wing was locked off for the party, guests pouring into the designated halls and corridors and rooms, the royal residence livelier than Jeno had ever seen it. 

“Scared?” Jeno asked, his hand on the small of Jaemin’s back, reassuring him. “Most people are excited for their birthday party.”

Jaemin clenched his jaw, looking over to the man standing by his side, brow riddled with worry. “You know what I mean. What if I- what if I lose track of him and he finds you in his office? I’m worried.”

“Well that won’t happen,” Jeno assured. “And even if things don’t go perfectly to plan, I can handle myself. I’ve spoken to Jaehyun and Mark too and they’ll do their best to stick close by me - as close as they can.”

Finding a morsel of relief in that, some of the tension in Jaemin’s shoulders eased. He rolled them, fixing his posture. “Alright. Since you promised, I’ll believe that everything will go well. Now… I suppose that I should finally make my grand entrance.”

“Of course, your Highness,” Jeno said, reluctantly pulling his hand away. He stepped aside and towards the door, grabbing onto the handle. “Are you ready?” He asked, looking at Jaemin in all of his Princely glory, dressed from head to toe in exquisite fabrics and jewels. 

Jaemin looked extravagant, yet not even the dazzling gold and myriad of gems could outshine him in Jeno’s eyes. To Jeno, the Prince was the brightest. The most beautiful. He was worth more than the luxury he had been draped in. Worth more than the gold and land Jeno had been promised for his life. Significantly so. 

Coal hair styled neatly to expose his forehead and the firm cut of his brow, fierce and seductive yet so undeniably sweet when he looked at Jeno, sharp eyes softening and brimming with affection only for him. He had been dolled up, made to look perfect for the night as if he weren’t already breathtaking as he was. Some more colour on his lips, a dash of gold and smokey brown around his eyes, all the more alluring. 

The suit that had been settled on at last was a sky blue piece with a white corset underneath. All over was gold detailing reminiscent of flowers blooming all along the man’s body. The coat was long, just barely missing the floor as he stood straight. Jeno had watched as Jaemin had been dressed up by a handful of maids, the intricate outfit requiring far more effort than Jeno could muster alone. Far too many fine details and delicate adornments, yet ones which a part of him wished he had done all up himself, slow and intricate, the moment intimate. 

Jaemin didn’t seem fazed by it, although he did gasp as his corset had been done up, tied tight, waist pinched. If it weren’t for the fact the Prince looked delectable like that, Jeno might have felt rather sorry. 

Underneath all the dazzling gold and jewels, Jaemin still kept on his mother’s necklace, refusing anyone to touch it let alone force him to take it off. There were attempts and arguments that it didn’t suit the outfit, however Jaemin refused, tucking it beneath his shirt and pointing out how it wouldn’t be seen either way, even more so with the high collar of his coat. 

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Jaemin replied, looking straight ahead. “Let the party commence.”

Jeno wasn’t all that interested in the celebration, going through the motions of what had been rehearsed time and time again. A formal introduction to all the gathered guests. A toast. A round around the place to chatter amidst everyone. A dinner and then more chatting and partying. 

For the first two parts, Jeno didn’t have to do much other than stand off to the side where he belonged as the Prince’s retainer. His shadow and subordinate, quiet unless spoken to. Jeno didn’t mind, looking ahead at Jaemin and hoping that Jaemin knew that no matter what happened he was right there behind him. All Jaemin had to do was look at him - call his name and seek him out. 

Thankfully, Jaemin handled himself without any issues - probably due to the fact that the Regent stayed quiet, aware that he couldn’t really steal the spotlight from the Prince completely on his big night. If the Regent interrupted him for no reason when all Jaemin did was simply greet his guests and wish them a pleasant night then he would have come across as rude. For what it was worth, the Regent knew how to keep up the act of a caring uncle. 

The toast had been rehearsed too, the speech drilled into Jaemin for weeks now. Despite that it came out naturally from the Prince, sounding spontaneous and lively, the nerves waning as the guests didn’t glare or regard him with pity nor distaste. Of course, Jeno was certain that most of the individuals invited were more so on the Regent’s good side than Jaemin’s so their attitudes to Jaemin must have varied, but they seemed relatively charmed by the man’s natural light and charisma. 

It would be a shame if such a young, dazzling man were to die soon. Murdered. 

Perhaps yet another carefully planned move on the Regent’s part. Make Jaemin look good and promising, only to snuff him out and cause an uproar even amongst those loyal to the Regent. 

To think he saw Jaemin as nothing more than a pawn - his sacrificial lamb - and not his own flesh and blood. 

Jeno glanced at the Regent from the corner of his eye, the older man wearing an unnatural smile, clapping without a sound to congratulate the Prince alongside everyone else, the large hall filling with cheers. Jeno couldn’t bear the sight of him, sick to his stomach, cold and shivering. Hands trembling, hot with the blood he was meant to spill but refused to. Not for a vile man like him. 

Before the grand feast, Jaemin was meant to greet his guests individually and thank them for their patronage. And this was where their plan was meant to be set into motion. 

Jaemin would approach someone, Jeno trailing behind him like the loyal dog that he was, and as the night progressed, the more uncomfortable the air between them would be. Because Jeno needed a reason to be absent. He needed Jaemin to dismiss him without anyone becoming suspicious. And what better way than for the Prince to be annoyed by his presence?

They started off small, barely noticeable. But as they progressed through the guests, Jaemin would glance at Jeno who was standing a centimetre too close for his liking, ordering him to move back with his gaze. He would have Jeno hold his glass, seemingly careless in the way he handed it over. He would act annoyed by the way Jeno wasn’t fast enough, trailing behind instead of keeping up with Jaemin’s every step. 

Nothing too drastic, but enough to make it evident to everyone around that the two weren’t perhaps on the best of terms. 

Xiao Dejun was a surprise. 

“Oh,” Jaemin uttered as he stood face to face with Dejun. “This is… Not as shocking as I thought it would be.”

Dejun chuckled, nodding in agreement. “Did you forget I was on the guest list?”

“Well… I did have a lot going on,” the Prince admitted.

“I’m certain.”

The two men exchanged odd smiles, both awkward with one another but also clearly trying to bridge the gap. 

“How’s your mother?” Jaemin asked, filling the silence with conversation. 

“Good,” Dejun assured. “As good as she can be. She wanted to come but she injured her leg earlier this week - nothing serious, but she is on bed rest for the time being. She really did want to be here. She made sure to send her best wishes.”

“That’s all I need,” Jaemin stated. “And I do hope she has a speedy recovery.”

Dejun hummed. 

“I take it that she has taken over the affairs of your father?”

“No,” Dejun replied. “She insists that politics is a mess she refuses to enter. It’s a game she has no interest in. Hence you will probably be seeing a lot of myself going forward; that is if we are to retain our place in the royal court. Something to look forward to, I reckon.”

“You are in for quite the treat,” Jaemin said. “Jeno can vouch just how fun the court meetings are. Isn’t that right?” He looked over to Jeno, the man keeping a noticeable distance between them. 

“Very fun,” he responded.

Dejun looked between the pair, confused. “Is there a reason for the separation?” He asked. “I could swear the two of you were attached at the hip the last I saw you.”

“Ah, so you caught on,” Jaemin mused. “Sharp eye. Don’t pay it too much attention; but if someone does end up asking - especially if they wonder where Jeno went off to - do mention that there was a strain between us. Perhaps we got sick of each other and parted ways for the night. Think you can do that?”

Very much baffled, Dejun scrunched his brow as he tried to understand what Jaemin was asking of him. “I… I guess I can do that. Are you perhaps up to something?”

Jaemin shrugged. “Who can say? I’m simply enjoying my birthday.”

“Right…”

“Well, I have about five dozen more guests to greet before any of us can move onto the main course, so I will have to bid you farewell for now. But I… I do hope we can catch up some other time.”

“Of course.”

Jaemin mustered a smile - a small and soft and genuine thing. He was trying. He was opening his heart to the people around him - those willing to extend their love to him. It was a warm sight to behold. 

Before Jaemin could depart, however, he was stopped by Dejun. “Oh and Jaemin: happy birthday.”

Surprised, Jaemin paused. And once he processed the man’s words, he smiled back at him. “Thank you.”

One guest to another. Another strange face to another.

And then a face Jaemin had to get used to seeing: Marquess Kim.

“All the best, your Highness,” the older man said with a polite curtsy. Black hair styled back, a dapper and sleek navy suit on with a white cravat at his neck, Marquess Kim looked rather dashing. Jeno had seen enough of him by now to find the man quite handsome, even if he tended to act the way he did. 

Still, he could never compare to Jaemin in Jeno’s eyes. 

“Thank you, Marquess Kim. It is a pleasure to have you here,” Jaemin said, doing his best to make the words sound genuine. 

At that, the older man snorted, hiding the noise behind a flute of champagne. “That is the first time you have ever said that and perhaps meant it,” he mused. “Impressive.”

“Do you not appreciate it?”

“That isn’t what I’m saying, your Highness,” Marquess Kim assured. “I am simply amused by it; after all, we haven’t been on amicable terms, have we? But now I receive letters from yourself. It is something I never expected; though I do not hate it.”

“Well, I am glad to hear that,” Jaemin said. “I thought that perhaps it is time we amend our relationship. You were close to Earl Xiao, after all, and he was… a really good man.”

Marquess Kim hummed in agreement. “He certainly was,” he said, a wistful feeling to him. “He… He spoke rather fondly of you,” the older man continued. “Even if I may have occasionally voiced my grievances about you to him.”

“Were there many?”

The man laughed, shaking his head. “Not really,” he admitted. “I don’t think I would call you an incorrigible fool, your Highness.”

Surprisingly, Jaemin smiled. “I shall take that as high praise coming from yourself.”

“It is intended that way. Perhaps I have been… immature,” Marquess Kim continued. “I don’t reckon my departed friend would wish for me to cling onto an old grudge.”

“He was wise, wasn’t he?”

“And very blunt when need be.”

“So often with you?”

Not even feigning offence, the older man laughed and nodded. “Very much so,” he confirmed. “For what it is worth, I do believe his faith in you wasn’t unfounded, your Highness.”

“Is this your roundabout way of confessing you deem me a decent man?”

“Perhaps it is,” Marquess Kim said. “Consider this my birthday gift, your Highness.”

“I quite like it.”

“Then I am glad.”

Not as bad as that could have gone.

Truly a miracle.

Finally, Jaemin had been around the entire hall, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries with more people that he didn’t know. Part one of the plan was complete. Now onto part two: the separation. In Jeno’s eyes, this was arguably the harder part of the plan. At least he felt so. Jaemin assured him that there was no reason to stress so much over something as simple as being dismissed, but Jeno was acutely aware of the way the Regent’s eyes would occasionally fall onto the pair. Always watching. 

They executed the plan in a semi-public area, enough guests scattered around to witness the dismissal, but not enough to cause an outright scene. 

All Jeno had to do was get on Jaemin’s nerves and vice versa. 

“Your Highness,” Jeno started, eyes briefly scanning the surrounding area. “I understand you may be tired, but it would be beneficial if you were to interact with our guests some more.”

Jaemin rolled his eyes, ignoring Jeno nevertheless.

“Your Highness-”

“I heard you the first time,” the Prince interrupted, aware of the numerous pairs of eyes curiously glancing towards them. Not starting, but definitely curious. 

“In that case, should we go back to the main hall? It is your party after all; I’m certain everyone would like to see you.”

“I’ll go out of my volition,” Jaemin said. “Not because you keep nagging me. Honestly, you have been talking in my ear all night; it’s giving me a migraine.”

“I do apologise.”

“Enough of the apologies,” Jaemin dismissed with a hand. “Has my uncle ordered you to annoy me this much tonight? You’ve been pushing me from one place to another; I can barely chat with anyone for five minutes before you urge me to move. The world won’t end if I take my time.”

“I do apologise-”

Jaemin groaned, turning to Jeno. “What did I say about the apologies? They’re getting on my nerves. Actually, you as a whole are getting on my nerves,” he continued, causing a few of the individuals around to gasp or smirk, clearly entertained by the drama playing out in front of them. Of course, they weren’t too obvious about it lest they attracted the attention of the Prince. 

“I understand, however I am merely trying to-”

“Enough of that,” Jaemin said, raising his hand in front of Jeno’s face to stop him. “I think for the sake of my own wellbeing, you are dismissed.”

Taking a second to process his words, Jeno tilted his head to the side and blinked. Confused. “Pardon?”

“Are you hard of hearing? I said: you are dismissed,” Jaemin repeated. “Go make yourself useful elsewhere.”

“Your Highness-”

“No arguing. I don’t want to see you until the end of the night at the earliest. I can handle myself just fine without your… guidance. Is that clear?”

“Of course, your Highness,” Jeno replied with a strained smile and bow. “As you wish.”

With that, they had enough of an alibi. Jaemin waved Jeno off, leaving the retainer as he headed towards the main hall without him. Jeno watched him walk off before sighing, turning around to find that there were countless guests looking at him - some snickering and some otherwise intrigued by what had happened. He offered them a polite smile before leaving, making his way towards his next target, confident that Jaemin could handle himself just fine without his help. 

As soon as he was out of sight of any guest, Jeno picked up his pace, first speedwalking only to start running. Once safe and out of the wing utilised for the night’s grand event, Jeno manoeuvred on instinct alone, taking turns he knew off by heart by now. 

He avoided any main staircases, taking the hidden staff paths instead as he really did not want to be seen by any guards - especially those located on the floor of the Regent’s office. Jaehyun explained the layout and positioning of everyone on patrol; outside of the area in which the celebration took place in, most hallways would be devoid of any guards, everyone focused in on the epicentre of life instead. Outside of a few locations, it was unlikely for Jeno to stumble upon anyone. But he still needed to be careful.

He rushed up and up and up, finally landing in the hallway which would lead him towards the library a floor above the Regent’s office. He stopped to calm his breathing, needing a few seconds to hide the fact that he had been running up countless staircases just to get there.

Finally calm and collected, Jeno stepped outside and towards the library. 

Or so he planned. 

The sound of someone’s voice came from towards the main stairwell, confusing Jeno as realistically nobody should be here. Jeno tensed, contemplating stepping back into the servant passage, only to have his decision made for him when the same voice called out his name.

“Jeno?” Junmyeon said, causing the younger man to turn around. 

“Junmyeon,” Jeno replied with a small smile, polite and unsuspecting. “What brings you here?”

Junmyeon walked over to Jeno, his stride unthreatening. “I should be asking you that,” he said, coming to a halt once he reached Jeno. “I was running some errands, but I noticed you weren’t with the Prince. I didn’t expect to find you here of all places.”

“Oh.”

“Did something happen?” Junmyeon asked, making things surprisingly easy for Jeno. 

The younger man looked down at his shoes in feigned embarrassment, lacing in a hint of annoyance there too. “I’ve been dismissed for the night,” he explained. “Of course, I will return, but I thought with how the Prince acted when he told me to leave, it might be best to let him cool off before I show my face around again. He is fully capable of partaking in the celebrations without me acting as a shadow anyway.”

Junmyeon hummed, understanding. “I suppose you do know him better than I,” he acknowledged. “It wasn’t anything bad, was it?”

“Nothing of the sorts,” Jeno assured. “If I had to guess, he's feeling slightly strained from all the people around. The last thing he probably wants is me telling him what to do at every step of the way.”

“I think you’re probably correct about that. I understand that the Regent has a rigid plan for the celebration, but I must agree with yourself; I don’t think the Prince needs his hand held the entire night,” Junmyeon said. The acknowledgement that perhaps the Regent was in the wrong came off as a surprise to Jeno. He didn’t think that Junmyeon was actually capable of going against everything the Regent said. “And, out of everyone here in the palace, I do believe you are the one that knows our Prince the best.”

Jeno… didn’t know how to react to that. 

In a way, he already knew that. He knew it from the way Jaemin spoke to him - the way he looked at him and touched him, those moments only ever meant to be understood by them. But it was the fact that Junmyeon noticed this that startled Jeno.

Did the Regent know this too, or was this a simple observation on the retainer’s end?

“Were you heading somewhere in particular?” Junmyeon asked. 

“Oh, right! Yes, I was actually considering the library,” Jeno said. “I know that I should perhaps be making better use of my time away from the Prince, but the collection of books here is too tempting. With how things have been, I hardly had the time to indulge in any finer literature. It is a shame.”

Knowing, Junmyeon nodded. “It truly is. And, if it makes you feel any better, I tend to have a roam around the library too from time to time. There really is a lot to choose from, even if the selection has seen a few cuts.”

“Her favourite books? Half were given out for charitable causes - libraries and schools that he cut funding to soon after - whilst the other were disposed of like trash, called cheap nonsense and childish fairy tales.”

“I’m quite fond of fairy tales,” Jeno said, causing a strange emotion to flicker behind Junmyeon’s eyes. In part melancholy and in part fond. Reminiscent.

“I’m afraid that you won’t find many here,” Junmyeon said. He sounded genuinely disheartened by that, a lingering ache in his voice. “Although I have a few I kept from many years ago.” Junmyeon smiled. “The Prince is fond of them too, isn’t he?”

“I believe so.”

“Perhaps then, I can lend you one some other time.”

“I would like that,” Jeno replied. “As would the Prince.”

“I’m glad,” the older man uttered, a soft moment falling upon them. For some reason, Jeno felt like he couldn’t do anything to disturb it, aware that there was far more behind Junmyeon’s behaviour than what met the eye. In the end though, Junmyeon exhaled, straightening his posture. “I shouldn’t hold you up any longer then. Oh! And if you feel like getting some fresh air, the library here does have a balcony you can get onto,” he explained. “The door can sometimes get stuck, but like most of the windows here, you can still get them open from the outside. Little known fact.”

Odd detail to mention.

“It seems like a safety hazard, doesn’t it? I believe so too, but it also acts as a safety feature in case of fires.”

“Wouldn’t you just smash the glass?”

“And risk getting a cut on the monarchy?” Junmyeon retorted in a playful manner, finding the whole thing ridiculous as well. “But something to know. Just in case.”

“Just in case,” Jeno echoed. “Thank you.”

“No worries. I do hope you enjoy your time away from the Prince. Though do try to come back after the dinner finishes; I believe the Regent may find your absence unfavourable.”

“Of course.”

“In that case, I shall leave you to it now. Take care.”

“You too.”

The two men parted with cordial smiles.

A strange encounter which cut into his already limited time, but one which Jeno couldn’t be too irritated by. Out of all the people in the palace, Junmyeon had slowly made himself far more interesting than before. Jeno probably didn’t have much time to delve into what exactly it was about the older retainer, but his behaviour had somehow shifted. It was far more evident now.

But Jeno had more pressing matters to attend to.

Quickly, Jeno reached the library. He hurried over to the balcony, unlocking the doors and stepping out. 

He went towards the railing, leaning over to find the balcony by the Regent’s office, mapping the route out in his head. In the days leading up to it, Jeno had taken walks outside, taking his time to observe the possible path he could take. There was a clear one, and although Jeno wasn’t entirely thrilled at the prospect of scaling the walls of the palace, he had to make do with what he had. Arguably this was easier than trying to sneak through a bunch of guards - even if most of them were still suffering the aftermath of a nasty food poisoning, exhausted and unwell. Not all of them, of course.

It would slow them down enough - dull their senses. 

Jeno could work within that safety margin. 

He looked around one more time, collecting his thoughts and wits, preparing for an exciting obstacle course. One wrong step and he would tumble to what would undoubtedly be his death - or at the very least a very unpleasant set of injuries. 

He couldn’t mess it up now.

Jeno closed the balcony door behind himself in case anyone wondered where he went. Even if they knew they had stopped by the library, it was unlikely they’d consider he left via the balcony. With all that settled, Jeno approached the ledge, putting his foot up on it as he had seen Jaemin do once before. If the Prince could do it, then so could he.

Jeno couldn’t fall. Not when Jaemin was waiting for him.

For Jaemin.

He took in a deep breath, holding it deep in his lungs before he finally made his move. 

The lunge forward towards the window ledge was probably the hardest part, the distance between the balcony and it uncomfortably far for Jeno’s liking. He landed - shaky and unsteady - and grabbed onto the frame, reaching for the awning for some support. His heart hammered in his chest, knees wobbling momentarily before he regained his composure.

The worst part was now over. 

Jeno had to jump to three more windows before he could begin his descent to the balcony of interest. 

He checked that the extended platform was actually beneath him before he finally climbed down, deciding to go easy on his knees. 

Once on the balcony, Jeno looked through the windows. There were no lights on, the room adjourning the Regent’s office utterly deserted. No soul in sight. No guards and thankfully no Regent. As such, Jeno gave the balcony door a tug. When they didn’t budge, he tried again. Junmyeon said they could be opened from the outside in case of emergencies, so Jeno reckoned he needed to put in some more force as if dealing with an urgent situation. 

He put his all into forcing the handle down until he heard an unmissable click, the lock giving way under pressure. With that, he was able to step inside, looking around to double check he was alone. There was no sign of life anywhere.

Jeno walked towards the wall joining with the Regent’s office, searching for the door. He pressed his ear to it, listening out for any potential movement on the inside. The Regent was still at the celebration, far too important to instead lock himself away in his office. Nevertheless, it's better to be safe than sorry.

Hearing nothing, Jeno gave the door handle a try. Of course, the door was locked. Nothing he couldn’t bypass though.

Jeno knelt down at the door, eye-level with the lock. He rummaged through his pockets, realising he still had one of Jaemin’s buttons. He was meant to fix that for him, but by now one of the maids would have gotten around to it. Not needing it right now, Jeno searched around for the lockpicking tools he had stashed away in his luggage before arriving at the palace. He was, more or less, prepared for any situation. Falling in love with his target was perhaps the only thing he wasn’t expecting to happen.

With his tools on hand, Jeno carefully fiddled around with the lock. It didn’t take him long.

He pulled himself up and pushed the door open.

Or so he tried. 

When he tried to open the door he was instead met with resistance - something heavy on the other side. At first, Jeno thought that maybe the door was jammed due to not being used, but soon he realised that that wasn’t the case. He tried giving it a firmer push, hearing a clear bang and the sound of something light toppling over. It didn’t smash, but there definitely was something on the other side.

Of course the Regent would board up the door leading into his office. Of course he would do that of all things. Honestly, why didn’t he just pick a room for his office that wasn’t attached to anything else if he was this paranoid?

Jeno took a look of the room he was in. It clearly was meant to act as an adjoining meeting room for the office. There were nice comfortable chairs, a desk, a fireplace and a row of bookshelves along the wall facing the balcony. It was meant to be used in conjunction with the office, yet there it was completely closed off. 

Now Jeno had to figure out how to get into the office. He couldn’t just barge his way in, slamming his body weight against the door to open it and potentially causing havoc inside. The noise would be far too loud, and even if the guards were too out of it to react, it was unlikely that Jeno would be able to clean up the mess after himself in time. Walking through the front door also wasn’t an option.

That left the windows. 

They could be opened from the outside. At least that was what Junmyeon told him.

It was worth a try.

Jeno hurried back out to the balcony, climbing onto the railing and jumping onto the next window ledge. He looked inside, finding the Regent’s office unoccupied. Just as he thought, the door was blocked off with a heavy dresser, a few books and trinkets lining the flat top. It would have been a disaster if he tried to force his way inside through that. 

Now having no other choice, Jeno tried to open the window. He could just about turn the small protrusion at the side of the frame where on the other side there was a latch. He twisted it with all his might, turning the small knob as if he were undoing a screw until finally it gave way. Jeno pulled on it, successfully getting the window open.

At least he didn’t have to shatter any glass.

Though, if it weren’t for Junmyeon he might have had to cause some damage.

Jeno carefully climbed through the window and into the office. It was dimly lit with two lamps on the walls so Jeno wasn’t stumbling around in complete darkness. Not that he was stumbling anyway. The walls were also completely covered in various paintings - a myriad of different portraits and scenes. It honestly looked creepy. 

Now he actually had to find something useful. 

He looked around, gauging his surroundings. There was of course the Regent’s grand desk, the surface kept clean and clutter-free; anything that could have proven to be useful was out of sight, only leaving a quill, a paper-weight and a lamp on the desk. Nothing Jeno could really work with. 

There were a few bookshelves, packed to the brim. The set of drawers which blocked the door could also prove useful. By the entrance to the office there was a table with a decorative cloth which reached the floor. A flower vase rested on top as well as a sculpture - a fox perched up on a rock. Jeno walked over to the table, pulling the fabric aside to see if there were perhaps any hidden cupboards underneath. There weren’t any, only a large empty space. 

One less spot he needed to rummage through.

The most obvious place to start was undoubtedly the desk. As such, Jeno hurried over to it, testing his luck with the drawers. All but one of them was kept locked. The one that opened without any issues only contained blank parchments and replacement quills and ink. 

Go figure.

Jeno got on his knees once more, using the same tools as before to pick the locks open. As long as he locked them again once done he would be fine. 

The first lock was undone and Jeno looked inside. Notebooks. Loose letters. A small journal. 

Jeno pulled them out, flipping through to find anything he could consider of use. 

He paused momentarily, hearing something outside. 

The guards. 

But they didn’t approach. Instead, it sounded as if they were distracted by something else, muffled conversation from beyond the door.

Perhaps a distraction.

Jeno continued.

Budgetary report. A draft proposal for something Jeno didn’t think was important. A list of tasks for Junmyeon to carry out before next week. Jeno looked through those carefully, wondering if perhaps the retainer was implicated in any way with the Regent’s assassination plot. Nothing suspicious - just a list of menial jobs that needed to be done and correspondences to be taken care of. 

Drawer number two.

More of the same. A few more letters discussing finances and laws and personal matters of court officials. Anything about those assassinated? A few brief mentions, but not enough to point towards a conspiracy.

Maybe the third time would be the charm.

Jeno pulled the drawer open, finding only more papers. However, when he pulled them all out he was met with a pleasant surprise in the form of a box hidden at the very bottom. It was locked.

It had to be important. 

So Jeno did his best to open it, finding it trickier than any of the previous locks. After sitting on it for a few minutes, Jeno began to feel restless, worried about how long he was taking and how the Regent could walk in at any second. The longer Jeno was away from the banquet, the more likely the Regent would grow suspicious of his whereabouts even if he had no reason to suspect treason on his end. For that reason he cleaned up after himself as soon as he went through all the papers and notebooks, not wanting to risk getting caught red handed.

He tried again. And again. And finally he got the wooden box open. 

Instead of finding any riches, however, all that there was was a key. 

Jeno felt like he was on a never ending wild goose chase. 

But fine! He had a key now. The question was what exactly that key opened. 

Jeno poked his head above the desk, looking around. The bookshelves were packed extremely tight. The Regent could have hidden something there - either within the confines of a cut out book or in a box that looked like a book. To find that, however, Jeno would have to go through everything. With how clean the place was, Jeno couldn’t even use the dust as an indicator of what was used more than the rest. 

Perhaps the drawer then?

Or was it the desk still?

Jeno assumed it would be the latter, most likely a hidden compartment. And so, Jeno felt around the wood, searching for any grooves or gaps that would indicate there was something still being kept secret from him. He knocked on a few areas, listening to how hollow the wood sounded. In the end, only once he climbed completely under did he find what he was searching for. 

Dragging his fingers against the underside of the desk, Jeno felt the slightest imperfection. He forced the pad of his index over the wood until he found a sliding cover, pushing it aside to reveal a small key hole. 

Key on hand, Jeno inserted and turned it. 

He heard a click. 

Jeno whipped his head around to the source of the sound, surprised that it actually came from above. As such he got from beneath the desk and looked around, finding that a compartment had opened on the rim of the desk right in front of where the Regent would have sat. He peered into the compartment, finding another box. Jeno wanted to cry, feeling that the Regent was far too cruel in his safety precautions. 

Nevertheless, Jeno pulled the box out. Luckily, there was no lock or combination pad. Just a simple box. Small victories. 

Jeno opened it and was greeted with a thick stack of letters.

He picked up the first one, skimming through the pages.

I’m pleased to hear that our delivery was successful once again. 

Johnny. 

They were all from Johnny.

The revelation shouldn’t have come off as a shock to him, but Jeno had assumed that maybe - just maybe - Johnny was simply following orders. Yet as he read more, Jeno realised that Johnny came across as far too friendly. Far too involved.

Jeno read through more and more of the letters. 

The requested wine might have been too much for our dear friend to handle, but I am certain that he enjoyed it all while it lasted. 

He checked the date on the letter, feeling his stomach drop as it was from within a week of Earl Xiao’s death. Jeno read through it fully to see if there were perhaps any further hints that could point towards the pair being directly involved. Yet as it stood, Johnny was good with skirting around what he actually wanted to say, hiding behind innuendos and inside knowledge to outright admit that he had facilitated in anyone’s murder. 

Still, Jeno pocketed the letter.

He continued on. 

There were a lot - some spanning as far back as five years ago, but even then they seemed to not even be the oldest. It was all too much to handle and realistically go through, but Jeno had to find something else. He flicked through, pulling out letters that he knew corresponded to deaths he was behind. He also pulled out what sounded like plans being made - vague and coded, but plans nevertheless. 

And then he stopped. 

Though he doesn’t seem like it, he is my most loyal dog. Not because of some drive to carry out his jobs, cleaning up the mess he is pointed towards, but because he is softhearted. You may see that as a weakness, but I see that as a means of exploitation. Show him kindness, and he will return it tenfold. Give him a reason to never cross you, and he will follow your every word. Dangle a treat in front of him, and he will do anything for it.

I believe that the treat we discussed earlier will suffice. After all, his heart isn’t in this for the love and thrill of it. With enough motivation, he would probably wipe the entire palace clean for you if you so wished. As long as he has no reason to suspect he is being played, he will do exactly what I tell him to. But even then, he is too loyal to consider betrayal on my end anyway. That’s how I raised him, after all.

Jeno stared at the letter, his fingers digging into the parchment.

Three years ago.

It was from three years ago.

Of course, he still has some way to go before I can happily send him off to you. But rest assured, he will be desperate for release by the time he is needed. Once he is at the brink, I shall present you with your finest servant. 

Jeno felt sick, skin prickling as acrid bile went up his throat. He paled, shaky and drained. 

Betrayal.

This was the greatest betrayal he has ever known. 

Nothing in Jeno’s life had been real; the past decade spent in Johnny’s care was nothing more than a twisted plot to turn him into a dog willing to answer his master’s every beck and call. He was exploited and agonised day after day, his trust abused. Every sliver of kindness granted by Johnny was a means to an end, using Jeno’s own gentle nature against him until the very end. 

Jeno was nothing more than a tool. A weapon. He was never a person in Johnny’s eyes. 

But why? What did Johnny get out of this?

Jeno glanced back down at the letter, trying to finish it. But he couldn’t. His vision was blurred with tears. He wiped them away, struggling to breathe. Why did they keep coming? Why wouldn’t they stop? Shouldn’t he be used to this by now? Shouldn’t it have been obvious already? So why, why, why did he cry? Why did it hurt so much as if he had been stabbed right in the heart, the blade turned and turned, scraping at his insides without mercy?

He couldn’t do this here. Not now. 

Jeno shoved the letter into his pocket and continued to flip through, taking some out at random and deciding to take them with him. He did that for a few minutes before he felt how heavy his pockets were, deciding that perhaps he had enough for now. With that, Jeno shoved the rest of the letters into the desk. When done, he stood up and decided to check the bookcases just in case.

He pulled out a few books to no avail. Nothing of use. 

The heavy drawer was next.

A few bottles of whiskey and wine. A small empty vial hidden off in the corner, covered up by glasses and a wooden box. 

Jeno pulled the vial out, bringing it up to his eyes. There was nothing inside. The glass looked yellowed with some residue on the very bottom, aged. Without thinking much else of it, Jeno put it in his pocket. 

And then he heard someone approaching. 

“Your Majesty,” he heard a guard from outside. 

Footsteps. 

Panicked, Jeno looked to the window. He could try to climb out but it was unlikely he would get out of sight fast enough. The Regent was closing in on him and Jeno had to make a split second decision: run or hide.

He chose the latter.

Jeno dove under the table from earlier, hiding himself with the long cloth. The space beneath was cramped and he had to pull his legs up to his chest to even remotely fit, still absolutely strained in that position. But it was good enough for now. As long as the Regent didn’t decide to stay too long. 

The door to the office opened at last. Jeno could just about see the man’s feet as he walked into the office, steps slow and heavy. 

Jeno couldn’t see much else - nor did he hear anything more than a few hums and breaths. Perhaps he only came to stop by. However, judging from the fact Jeno later heard the man pull out his chair and sit down at his desk, the Regent was here for the long term.

Perfect. 

Jeno knew enough about the Regent by now to know that the man could stay locked up in his office for hours upon hours. Not exactly what Jeno needed right now.

So he suffered, fighting to maintain his form underneath the table no matter how much his limbs and muscles ached from the prolonged strain. His legs felt like they were about to cramp, twitching and contracting as he did his best to make himself as small as possible. It was painful, but if he wavered then he would be caught. If he was caught… that would be the end. 

Perhaps there was someone out there looking out for him, because just as Jeno thought he was about to crack, someone knocked on the door.

“May I come in?”

Junmyeon. 

His hero.

“Come in,” the Regent responded. 

The retainer stepped inside, closing the doors behind him with a faint click. 

“What is it now?”

“I came in search of you, your Majesty,” Junmyeon replied. “There is a party going on and you have locked yourself up here.”

“I grew tired of the spectacle.”

“I understand, however, it is the Prince’s birthday. It would be rude for you to not be there for him,” Junmyeon argued. “As his uncle and the only family he has, it is only proper to stand by his side. Of course, I understand that grand parties may not be up to your liking, but with all the planning that you put into this, at least stay until the very end. Even more so now that it is obvious the young Prince also isn’t entirely fond of such large gatherings. It’s only kind.”

The Regent sighed. “Have I ever told you just how much you nag.”

“On countless occasions, your Majesty. However, if not for this nagging, where would you be now?”

“I don’t need you being smart with me now, Junmyeon. Tonight is not the night for it.”

“Is something the matter?”

“Nothing that you should concern yourself with,” the Regent replied, annoyance overflowing in his raspy voice. “I’m simply tired.”

“I understand.”

“Then will you leave?”

“I still wish to convince you to come back to the banquet,” Junmyeon stated. “You are his family, your Majesty. He only has you now, and I do not think that simply leaving him alone with a guest list you have intrinsically planned is appropriate. He does not know half of these people and I heard that he has not received a proper briefing beforehand.”

“He has.”

“I checked, your Majesty, and I could have written up better notes myself in the span of ten minutes,” the retainer argued. “Now, of course I believe that the Prince is fully capable of navigating the party himself, however as the Regent you are to guide him before his coronation. As it stands, there is still quite some guiding required.”

The Regent clicked his tongue. “He’s an adult.”

“Yet he is seldom treated as one. Until it is time to risk making a fool of him,” Junmyeon pointed out. “Have you noticed that, your Majesty?”

“It builds character.”

“It destroys confidence.”

“Oh trust me, Junmyeon, he does not lack confidence when it is time to argue against me.”

“He doesn’t argue against you; he argues with you.”

“Those are the same thing Junmyeon. Now, how about you leave? You’re starting to test my patience.”

“I am afraid that I will not leave until you return to the party.”

“You- I am not in the mood.”

Jeno’s muscles ached, shaking. As much as he was enjoying the show, he really needed to go now. If only Junmyeon could drag the Regent out already. 

“I understand, your Majesty. However, I have an obligation to do what is best for the crown. As it stands, I believe that you should be there for the Prince.”

“You really won’t take no for an answer, will you?”

“I am certain you know the answer well after all these years, your Majesty.”

The Regent sighed. “I know,” he uttered, defeated. “You truly know how to get under my skin.”

“Persistence is key. If you give up, you will never succeed.”

“I am aware.”

Finally, they were leaving. At least that was what it seemed like. 

But then came another knock.

“Who is it now?”

“Uncle, let me in!”

Perfect!

“What on earth are you doing here?” The Regent asked as Jaemin made his way inside. “And I didn’t say you could come in.”

“You left the party,” Jaemin pointed out, ignoring the anger in his uncle’s voice. “And now half the guests are complaining because I am too much of a bore for them. Honestly, did you invite all these people for yourself? I’ve had at most a handful of pleasant conversations that didn’t end up with someone asking for you. I thought this was my birthday.”

“That doesn’t explain why you are here. Where’s that wide-eyed retainer of yours?”

“Jeno? I dismissed him earlier,” Jaemin said as if it weren’t important. 

“Dismissed?”

“He was getting on my nerves. He can nag so much at times! Even worse than yourself, uncle dearest.”

“Who said you could talk to me like that?”

“It’s my birthday, consider this my gift.”

“That doesn’t- Where is he?”

“Jeno? I told him to take a walk. So maybe he’s out in the gardens. Or in his room. I don’t know. He has a will of his own.”

“He’s in the gardens,” Junmyeon stated, surprising Jeno. “I saw him earlier - not long after the Prince had dismissed him. He said he needed some air. I checked before coming here as well; he is still there.”

That was… None of that happened. Why was Junmyeon blatantly lying to the Regent? Why was he covering for him when he had no reason to do so?

“The gardens?”

“They are pleasant at this time of night,” Jaemin mused. “Not that I would know.”

Now met with two immovable objects, the Regent had no choice but to finally give up. “Make sure he’s back with you when we return.”

“I told him to come before the end,” Jaemin explained. “Now should we go? This office of yours is unnerving.”

With that, Jaemin left. 

“Shall we, your Majesty?”

The Regent didn’t respond for a short minute. “If we must. Though, did you open the window here?”

“Pardon?”

“The window. Did you open it?”

Fuck!

“Oh that. Yes, I opened it when I came to fetch the book Duchess Kim lent you. It was far too stuffy in here.”

The Regent hummed. “Next time just keep it closed.”

“If you so wish, your Majesty.”

And finally, everyone left. 

Jeno waited a few more seconds before he groaned and unfurled his limbs. 

Never again.

But now he had to rush back to the party. 

He pulled himself up and checked that he had everything he needed with him. He also checked the drawers for good measure, ensuring they were locked and everything had been put back in its rightful place. 

Giving the room one last look, Jeno went up to the window and climbed out. He looked up and down, wondering if climbing down would be easier than trying to get back to the library. Besides, if he was meant to be coming in from the gardens, it only made sense for him to enter from the ground level. As such, he climbed down carefully, finding it far easier than going up.

Once on solid ground, Jeno sighed.

Back to the party he went. 

♤♡◇♧

Jeno hurried over to find Jaemin, coming to the man’s side without Jaemin noticing until he asked “are you having a good night, your Highness?” 

Startled, Jaemin turned around, a hand over his heart. As soon as he realised it was Jeno behind him, a wide smile found its way upon his face, eyes lighting up - a mixture of joy and relief that he was fine. “You made it.”

“As I promised,” Jeno replied. “Thank you for saving me back there.”

“So you were in danger?” 

“Momentarily,” Jeno admitted. “Your uncle really loves his office, doesn’t he? Though I suppose it makes sense; he does have quite a few secrets to hide.”

Hearing that, the Prince raised his brows. “You found something?”

“More than something.”

Far too much.

Yet still not enough. 

“I’ll show you once we’re out of here,” he assured. 

“Let’s go then.”

Jeno chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t you have a party to attend?”

Jaemin sighed. “I’ve had enough of it already. None of this interests me in the slightest,” he admitted. “It’s not the type of party which I enjoy. I’m not even sure I enjoy any party. So? Should we leave?”

“Give it ten more minutes,” Jeno said. “Then I’ll escort you out.”

“Alright. Ten more minutes. No more than that.”

Keeping his word, by the time ten minutes passed, Jeno excused himself and Jaemin to the Regent. He bowed in front of the man, avoiding his eyes completely as he said that “the Prince wishes to retire for the night.” It was met with a disgruntled hum and a wave of the hand, the pair granted their leave. Jeno thought the Regent might have argued against it but he seemed too tired with the party himself, perhaps thinking of cutting it short now that the Prince left. 

Jeno thanked him, a sickly churn of his stomach making itself known as soon as he spoke. 

To the Regent, Jeno was nothing more than a pawn. He meant nothing to him. Yet there Jeno was, playing nice for his grand plan.

It made him want to throw up. 

Jaemin was quick to lead them out, grabbing onto Jeno’s hand as soon as they were out of sight. He pulled him forward, running towards his bedroom no matter how far away it was. They had to stop countless times, chests heaving as they barely made a dent in their journey, the palace far too grand to easily run around in even with the pair taking a few shortcuts via servant staircases and passageways. 

But finally, they made it. 

Jaemin closed the doors behind them, leaning against them, head tilted back as he tried to steady his breathing. “Was the palace always this big?” He asked. “Or is it just because we were in a rush?”

“Both,” Jeno replied, digging into his pockets to pull out the numerous letters he stole from the Regent’s office. He laid them down on Jaemin’s desk, piquing the man’s interest as he saw them. 

“Is that what you found?” Jaemin asked, stepping towards Jeno. He stood behind him, an arm slipping around Jeno’s waist, his chin propped up on the man’s shoulder. 

“There were more,” Jeno replied, instinctively leaning back against Jaemin and his comforting warmth. He didn’t realise just how much he missed his presence until he had him by his side again, body aching to be near him. He let out a soft sigh of relief, eyes flickering shut for a split second now that he was safe in Jaemin’s hold. “A lot,” he added, feeling around in his pockets until he pulled out the small vial from before. 

“What’s that?”

“No idea,” Jeno admitted. “But it looks old.” He uncapped it, contemplating for a second before taking a whiff. “Odourless.”

Intrigued, Jaemin made grabby hands towards the vial, waiting for Jeno to hand it to him. “It’s old,” he mused, giving it a twirl between his fingers. “What do you think it is?”

Jeno shrugged. It stumped him because it was so completely out of place, hidden away but still easy enough to find. Something that could easily be pulled out and observed. Admired. 

“I don’t know. But if he decided to keep it, it must mean something to him.”

“Do you think he’ll notice it’s missing?”

“Possibly,” Jeno said. “I don’t- I don’t know why I brought it.”

“You must have realised it’s important, that’s why,” Jaemin explained, pressing a kiss to Jeno’s cheek. “You did well, Jeno. I’m just glad you made it out without getting hurt. I- When I realised that uncle disappeared mid-way through I- I got scared,” he explained, holding Jeno firmly in his arms. Jaemin nuzzled his face against Jeno’s shoulder, taking in a deep breath, the scent steadying him. “I rushed to the office as fast as I could. I- I thought that-”

“It’s okay,” Jeno assured, placing his hand over Jaemin’s where they were on his stomach. “I’m fine. Thanks to you.”

Jaemin hummed, needing to soak up in Jeno’s presence. In that regard, they were alike, both just as desperate for each other. “What about the letters?” He asked, words muffled against Jeno. 

“It’s a lot to go through,” Jeno stated. “But it’s… It was planned a long time ago. Even me coming here. Me specifically,” he added, voice trembling ever so slightly. It was enough to alert Jaemin, picking up on the smallest detail. He pulled himself up, chin on Jeno’s shoulder once more to look at the man’s face. “I… The letters are from Johnny. He- He raised me for this,” he explained, the words catching onto some of the anguish in his heart. 

As soon as he wavered, Jaemin was there to support him, holding him tight and assuring him that if he were to fall, he would be there to catch him. “I’m sorry,” he said gently, placing a kiss on the line of Jeno’s shoulder. 

“It’s just- I mean I- I should have known,” Jeno continued. “But I just didn’t think- I thought of him like family, you know? The closest thing I had to any after my parents died.”

Jaemin squeezed him, lips pressed against his shoulder still. Never letting go. 

“But he- I guess I’m just that disposable to him. I should’ve known.”

“You couldn’t have,” Jaemin said, stroking his hands up and down Jeno’s stomach to soothe him. “You couldn’t have known that. There’s nothing wrong in not assuming the worst in people,” he added as if speaking from experience. “It just means you have a good heart.”

Jeno bit down hard on his bottom lip, eyes glued to the pile of letters spread out on the desk. 

A good heart. 

A weak heart. Exploitable. 

Johnny wanted to utilise that kindness and trust, capitalising off it. 

But he wouldn’t. 

Jeno wouldn’t let him.

What Johnny thought was a sure-fire way to get what he wanted would in fact end up working against him. Jeno was loyal, but unlike what Johnny thought, he still had his morals. He still had something nestled deep within him that guided him forward, differentiating right from wrong. Freedom sounded nice, but it was nothing when compared to where he was now, held like he was the most precious thing in the whole world.

Johnny was wrong about him because fear could only take Jeno so far. If Johnny sought out revenge, then so be it, but Jeno wasn’t going to let him harm Jaemin in any way.

“I’m twenty-one,” Jeno said, the declaration surprising Jaemin. 

“I- I thought so,” the Prince mused, sounding confused. “Why?”

“In my brief, my age was down as twenty-two,” Jeno explained. “My name was the same as well as any details that wouldn’t need to be hidden behind a cover story. But not my age. It’s a small detail so I didn’t really think much of it but… Johnny thinks I’m twenty-two.”

Such a small, trivial thing. Yet it was the missing puzzle piece.

“When he… when he bought me, he asked my age,” Jeno said, feeling the way Jaemin tensed at the word bought. 

Right. They hadn’t talked in depth about Jeno’s lids, had they? Outside of being an assassin for hire, what did Jaemin even know about him? More than anyone else, probably. Because Jaemin knew Jeno for who he was, no backstory attached. 

“I said nine,” Jeno continued. “But I was turning nine that year. So when it was my birthday, he thought I was ten. He thinks I’m a year older than I really am, no matter how many times I correct him. He sent me here as Lee Jeno, aged twenty-two. He sent me as who he thinks I am, ready to die.”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Jeno. I don’t- I don’t even know what to say.”

“Neither do I,” Jeno admitted, picking out the letter that had written out his fate from the pile. He looked down at it, carefully observing Johnny’s neat handwriting as he described Jeno as his mindless drone - a product to be sold. 

“He’ll pay for this,” Jaemin assured. “Both of them will.”

“None of the letters say anything concrete,” Jeno pointed out.

“But they say enough between the lines. We just need someone to show everyone the meaning behind them.”

“Like who?”

Jaemin sighed. “I’ll write up copies and send them to Marquess Kim,” he said. “I’ll explain everything to him, then he can spread the word within the court.”

“And then?”

“And then we can hopefully charge my uncle for his crimes. Depending on what’s in the letters it might take some persuading and convincing, and if it still isn’t enough… I’ll make my first act as King to call for his imprisonment - with a trial, of course; unlike some, I am just. Though it probably is best to wait with all of this until I’m actually King. So all we have to do is guarantee I don’t die before then. So, how does that sound?”

“Hopeful,” Jeno replied. A smile tugged at his face. “I like it.”

Jaemin hummed, inching his hands higher to get a better feel of Jeno. “Good. And then once all is just in the world, we can do whatever we want. Together. Do you like the sound of that?”

Together. Whatever they wanted. 

It sounded too good to be true - as if ripped straight out of a fairy tale. But Jeno believed Jaemin; there was conviction in his voice, firmness in his hold. Jaemin went from a man awaiting death, afraid and dejected, to a man fighting against it. There was a fire burning bright within him, refusing to let himself be extinguished again. He burned and burned, bright enough for the two of them.

This was a completely different man Jeno met when he arrived at the palace, yet simultaneously he was exactly the same. All he needed was help - someone to show him that there was still hope. Someone who gave him a means of showing the love pumping in his heart, channelling it into fighting for the justice his mother deserved - the justice Jeno, his own kingdom, Onyan, and everyone whose lives were robbed in the process by the Regent and Johnny deserved. 

“Anything?” Jeno asked, stroking the hand keeping him close.

“Anything,” Jaemin assured.

What could he ask of the future King? What could he do with his new freedom?

Jeno hummed, smiling to himself softly. “I’ve never been to the sea,” he declared, looking over his shoulder, meeting Jaemin’s tender gaze, his own lips quirking upwards. “I’d love to see it some day.”

“And you will,” Jaemin assured. “We could walk along the coast. Perhaps even take a horse ride across the beach.”

“Another race?”

“I was thinking of something more romantic, but if you want a race, I don’t see why not,” Jaemin replied, amused by Jeno’s competitive streak. “The water should still be warm. We can go in for a swim. You do know how to swim, right?”

“Of course I know how to swim.”

“Just making sure,” Jaemin mused, hiding his smile by pressing his mouth against Jeno’s shoulder, large eyes looking up at Jeno through long lashes. “And here I was thinking that I might be able to save you from drowning.”

“So dramatic,” Jeno said with a roll of his eyes. “And a strange thing to fantasise about.”

“Maybe I just want to show off and make you swoon.”

“What are you, a peacock?”

Jaemin snorted, his hands slowly beginning to rise up Jeno’s stomach up to his chest, feeling him up. “My wardrobe is colourful and flashy,” he mused. “Does it work on you, though?”

Jeno shrugged. He did like some of Jaemin’s outfits. And of course, that was a blatant lie, because as it stood, Jeno couldn’t get enough of looking at Jaemin. Even the plainest clothes within his wardrobe looked godly on him. Though it wasn’t the clothes that Jeno was most interested in anyway; after all, all they did was highlight the beauty already present. Adoring a dazzling jewel with more diamonds when he could shine on his own. 

“Sometimes,” Jeno replied, feeling the tips of his ears reddening, far too slow with his response. 

The Prince smirked. “What were you thinking about? How dashing I am? You can say: I won’t judge.”

“Now you’re just fishing for compliments.”

Jaemin laughed, nodding in agreement. Jeno couldn’t even feign annoyance, far too endeared by the Prince - his blinding smile, the glint of joy in his eyes, and of course the uplifting noise of his laughter, pure and unrestrained. To think only Jeno was lucky enough to hear this. To see him at his happiest, no matter how brief the moment may be.

 I believe he carries your smile too.

Jeno had never seen the Queen, but Jeno knew that this smile was Jaemin’s own. It was Jaemin’s smile that he loved and nobody else’s.

“Maybe I am. Is that a sin?”

“Don’t I compliment you enough?”

Jaemin scoffed. “All you do is tease me,” he argued. 

“Jaemin…”

“Alright, alright,” he uttered, admitting he was in the wrong. “You are kind to me too. Sweet and loving and caring, and you put up with me when I tease you too. And you also think I’m the best kisser in the world.”

Jeno snorted, looking over his shoulder, straining his neck to look Jaemin dead in the eye. “When did I say that?”

“Oh, so it’s not true? Do I pale in comparison to everyone else?” Jaemin asked, dramatic and with feigned hurt. “Am I not good enough for you? I promise I’ve been doing my best, Jeno! You must understand that my lessons are limited - though that is not up to me.”

Jaemin was in a good mood. Then again, so was Jeno, the switch up gradual but noticeable. Maybe all they needed really was each other, both significantly more lively after being pressed back to chest, wrapped up in each other’s warmth and comfort. 

“We can’t kiss the entire day, Jaemin,” Jeno pointed out. “You have matters to attend to. I have matters to attend to.”

“All I hear is excuses.” Jaemin inched his face closer, his throat resting on Jeno’s shoulder more so than his chin. “Excuses, excuses. I’m so hurt,” he said, his hands coming up to Jeno’s pecks, giving them a sudden squeeze. It caused Jeno to jump, Jaemin laughing at the reaction. “They’re firm,” he mused, still cupping the man’s chest. “Fascinating.”

A really good mood.

“Did you drink?” Jeno asked, inching his face closer, sniffing around Jaemin’s mouth for signs of intoxication. 

“I did - nothing alcoholic though,” Jaemin explained. “The last thing I want is to get drunk around my uncle and a bunch of guests. No thank you.”

“So you’re just being your usual self then,” Jeno mused. “Albeit more playful than I expected you to be.”

“Can you blame me? With all that you did today, the future is looking bright,” Jaemin said. “One step closer to thwarting my uncle’s dastardly plans. No murder, no war, and I get to have you by my side. If you ask me, this is the happiest I’ve ever been.” 

He let his hands fall from Jeno’s chest, reckoning that if he was to be serious for a moment it would help to not be actively groping Jeno. Jaemin pried himself off Jeno’s back, using the hands now on Jeno’s hip to slowly manoeuvre him back around. They were now face to face, the moment far more tender this way. 

“So I should probably thank you, because this is the best gift anyone has ever given me. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.” The words were spoken as a mere whisper, meant to be heard by just them and nobody else. He was dripping with sincerity, his hands on Jeno’s hips firm and grounding, warm through the fabric of Jeno’s shirt. 

It was at times like these that Jaemin left him breathless, gasping for air as the sheer weight of his words ploughed into Jeno at an unforgiving speed, knocking him off kilter. Loved and cherished - that’s what Jaemin made him feel. Jeno felt enveloped by Jaemin’s devotion, his skin prickling at the rush of electricity sparking down his spine. 

As he looked at Jaemin now, he saw someone he never thought could exist; it was someone that truly loved Jeno, and who Jeno loved back, unable to contain just how much he wanted him, overflowing with maddening fondness for the Prince. Jaemin made him act stupid. He made him act reckless. Jeno was willing to put his own life at risk if it meant helping Jaemin. The mere thought of Jaemin getting hurt - especially by Jeno’s own hands - was enough to send a sick shiver down his spine, entire body chilled, skin blanched with unease. 

When he looked at Jaemin, Jeno saw hope and a future. Not exactly the future he fantasised as a caged bird wishing for freedom, but a beautiful future nevertheless - far more than he could have ever dreamed for. In it, he wasn’t alone. In it, he didn’t have to hide. In it, he was loved for who he was: Lee Jeno and nothing else.

“I love you,” Jaemin added, leaning in closer so that their noses brushed. 

“I love you too,” Jeno uttered, managing to actually speak. “And you are also the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“Now you’re just stealing my lines,” the Prince said with a faint chuckle. “But that’s alright; I’m swooned.”

Jeno laughed - an airy exhale through his nose - and closed the gap between them, kissing Jaemin before he could say something stupid again. He didn’t seem to mind it though, reciprocating the press of Jeno’s lips with a pleased hum, stroking his thumbs over Jeno’s sides. Sweet and gentle at first, Jaemin clearly wanted more. But so did Jeno. 

Jaemin tugged him closer as if they weren’t already stuck together. It was instinctual, craving to be as close as physically possible, the smallest gap between them unbearable. 

Eager hands rose from Jeno’s hips to rest just beneath his ribcage, thumbs pressing down over the bumps. Anything to touch. Anything to feel. 

And then Jaemin pulled away, startling Jeno at how abrupt it was. 

“Okay, but I have to ask: what is that in your pocket?” To make his point, Jaemin groped the pocket in question, trying to make sense of the contents. “You’ve been jingling whenever you move. Faint, but jingling nevertheless. It’s actually driving me crazy.”

Not what he was expecting.

“Oh, that’s just my lockpicking tools,” Jeno replied, rummaging through his pocket. 

Honestly, he was being weighed down but he had gotten so used to it by this point that he barely noticed it. What he did notice, however, was the disappearance of a certain button he had with him at the start of the night. He dug around again in his pocket, and when he didn’t find it he wondered if it had perhaps fallen out when he had gone to use his tools when breaking in. 

It wouldn’t have, right?

“What is it?” Jaemin asked, noticing the momentary worry in his brow. 

“Oh- Nothing,” Jeno assured. “But it’s a bit heavy.”

“Let me help you with that then,” the Prince suggested, already snaking his hands up to Jeno’s shoulders, helping him slip the blazer off in one fell swoop. The fabric fell to the floor with a soft sound. A dangerous thing. “Much better,” Jaemin mused, a glint of something far darker and hungrier than his typical mischief flashing behind his eyes. 

Jeno glanced down at Jaemin’s lips curved in a playful smirk, his breath hitching in his throat. He knew what Jaemin wanted, and the truth was that Jeno wanted it too, the memory of the Prince rutting against him popping into mind. It wasn’t something he could easily forget, nor was it something Jeno didn’t circle back to frequently - too often to confess without feeling embarrassed. But it was something that Jeno had thought of, considering it thoroughly at night. 

Sex wasn’t something Jeno really had for the fun of it; more often than not, it was done for money or for a job, rarely actually getting intimate with anyone for it to feel as anything more than a chore. Yet now with Jaemin, Jeno thought that perhaps it was something he wanted. He pictured Jaemin, his mouth and hands all over, pouring all of his affection into Jeno without anything holding him back. He imagined him all eager to please, the dam in his heart bursting, drowning Jeno in all of the love he could no longer contain. 

Jeno’s heart pounded loud in his chest, the rhythmic beat pulling him into a trance. 

“You know,” Jaemin said, voice airy and hot as he leaned closer towards Jeno. ”My jacket’s kind of heavy too,” he admitted. “Hot, too. Think you can help me with that?”

Jeno licked his lips, hypnotised by the low murmur of Jaemin’s voice - smooth and warm, sending a pleasant chill down Jeno’s spine. He nodded ever so slightly, the motion barely noticeable. With a faint shake to his hands, Jeno helped Jaemin out of his jacket, slipping it off his wide shoulders, not caring about it after that. The exquisite article of clothing fell to the floor alongside Jeno’s own common staff blazer, the two men now one step closer to where they both wanted to be. 

“Better?” Jeno asked, smoothing his hands over Jaemin’s chest. 

“Hmm… It’s still a bit stuffy in here, don’t you think?”

Scorching. 

Jeno’s mouth went dry, feeling the heat radiating off Jaemin’s body. His hands slipped down to his clothed abdomen, a whine forming at the back of his throat as he felt the firm muscles underneath, wanting to see the way they flexed and rippled as he came. Jeno knew he was getting ahead of himself, his better judgment clouded with an all consuming lust he couldn’t reel in no matter how hard he tried. 

It was now a well known fact that Jaemin made Jeno act irrationally; he made Jeno do things he would never think of doing otherwise, his own desires rising from the depths. Anything close to wants and dreams and instincts other than what was needed for the baseline of survival had been long buried, yet with Jaemin now in the picture, he had disrupted the status quo and showed Jeno that he could have whatever it was that his heart desired. 

And Jeno’s heart desired Jaemin in every sense of the word. 

He tugged at the Prince’s shirt, forcing it out from where it had been tucked into his neat slacks. “You must be suffocating in all of this,” Jeno mused. “Let me help.”

“How kind of you,” Jaemin murmured, closing the gap between them, lips close enough to feel a phantom of a kiss. “What would I ever do without you?”

Jeno twirled one end of the laces tied over the front of Jaemin’s corset and shirt, yanking at it to let it all unfurl. “What would you do without me?” He echoed, bridging the minimal space in between to feel Jaemin against him once more. 

The softness of the kiss was brief, all pretenses of being cordial were tossed aside as Jeno lunged forward with a new type of hunger completely reciprocated by Jaemin. The wanton on the Prince’s part was palpable, overwhelming Jeno’s senses with sheer need to devour Jeno. It was something which should have been terrifying, yet it only stirred Jeno on, a fire blazing within him, burning down any semblance of fear and hesitation. Jeno wanted. He wanted more than he thought was possible, willing to submit himself to Jaemin completely.

His hands worked on the pointless ties and laces. More restraints. Buttons. Anything to stop Jeno from getting to what he really wanted. It was cruel and unfair and Jeno was frustrated, whining into Jaemin’s covetous mouth. Not fair. So unfair. 

Jaemin thought so too as he clawed at his collar like a wild animal, trying to undo the button restraining the column of his throat. He was successful in the end, nearly tearing the button off in the process. Now free, Jaemin was reinvigorated, deciding to help Jeno not with his own clothes, but with Jeno’s. 

The Prince hooked his fingers under the band of Jeno’s pants, yanking him closer, their lower halves rubbing together, eliciting a dark chuckle from Jaemin. He worked on the clasp keeping them in place, smirking against Jeno’s lips when he got them undone. Jeno keened, the sudden sense of relief around his crotch alerting him to the heat swelling between his legs. Eagerly, he tugged on Jaemin’s shirt, undoing as much of it as possible until he finally had unrestricted access to the man’s torso. His hands roamed the expanse of skin, feeling the firm outline of muscle beneath his palms.

Jaemin shuddered, not used to the attention of another person. His smile was dizzying, the curve of it against Jeno’s lips leaving him lightheaded as he felt the true extent of the Prince’s mirth - a joy which couldn’t be contained, melting Jeno under its candor. It made him want to touch more, commit Jaemin’s entire being to memory. He wanted to feel every dip and rise, every flex of muscle and shiver running down his spine. Jeno wanted to keep his lips on his for eternity, refusing to part ways with his earnest smile and a kiss which was just as desperate for Jeno and Jeno was desperate for Jaemin. 

The Prince reciprocated Jeno’s zeal, going to work on the buttons of his shirt as well, needing to feel Jeno just as much. He was faster with it, not obstructed with ties and laces and intricate designs put in place to annoy and inconvenience. Jaemin pulled Jeno’s shirt apart, sucking in a deep breath as he saw the man’s chest and stomach, his skin a canvas pulled taut over defined muscle. 

Overstimulated with far too much he wanted to do and see and touch, Jaemin pulled away from Jeno’s mouth, a trail of saliva bridging between their lips. He gulped, eyes blown out with dark hunger, trailing down and down to take in the sight in front of him. 

Saddened by the abrupt end to their kiss, Jeno whined, rolling his hips in search of Jaemin. The friction left him biting down a moan, tilting his head back as he dragged a heavy hand over Jaemin’s chest. Seeing this as an invitation, Jaemin lunged forward, attaching his mouth to the column of Jeno’s throat, mouthing hot kisses into the flushed skin. They were messy and wet, more so focused on tasting and feeling Jeno than anything else. His teeth scraped over the flesh, sucking and biting when Jeno trembled against him, crooning at how good it felt. 

Jeno knew we would look like an animal mauled him once all of this was done, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care, instead urging Jaemin to continue in his lust crazed state. He buried a hand in Jaemin’s hair, pressing him closer against himself, arching his back further and further as Jaemin dipped lower and lower. 

His neck, shoulder, collar bones. Jaemin tried to go lower, but with how they were clinging onto each other it was impossible for him. So he returned to Jeno’s lips, tongue parting them with ease, slipping right inside like it was where he belonged. They held on to each other as if their lives depended on it, an invisible force pulling them together. It was impossible to tell where one body began and the other ended, the space between them nonexistent. 

Jeno swayed his hips against Jaemin, his heart a loud drum in his ears. With their chests pressed up against one another, he could feel Jaemin’s own heartbeat just as clearly. Loud and excited. 

He couldn’t stand it anymore. 

With one definite move, Jeno pushed Jaemin away. The Prince whimpered, a momentary flash of hurt and confusion slipping across his expression. It vanished just as soon as it appeared, replaced with anticipation at the sight of Jeno in front of him, chest rising and falling, kiss-swollen lips parted and dark eyes staring him down. Jeno pressed his fingertips against the centre of Jaemin’s chest and pushed again. And again. And finally, the back of Jaemin’s legs made contact with the edge of the bed. 

Excited, Jaemin sat down without any further instruction from Jeno. He looked up at the other man, covetous eyes transfixed on Jeno. Jaemin gripped the bed sheets tight, each second apart from Jeno killing him on the inside. 

Jeno, suffocated by all the layers of clothes still on him, slipped out of his shirt and tossed it on the floor with no regard. At that, Jaemin bit down hard on his bottom lip, a low groan rumbling at the base of his throat. But Jeno still wasn’t done. Not wanting to slow things down later, Jeno decided to strip down completely in front of the Prince. He dropped his slacks and underwear down, kicking them off alongside his shoes.

Standing completely naked, Jeno felt a hint of embarrassment. 

Embarrassment and fear, stripped completely bare for Jaemin. It felt different than any other time before, actually caring about what Jaemin thought of him. Everything that could have come as an insecurity was now at the forefront and centre of his mind. Each scar and blemish, a wound that didn’t heal right and left a noticeable bump in his skin, all of it consumed Jeno. It was a reminder of who he was - his ugly past.

Yet Jaemin didn’t care. He didn’t linger on the history behind the marks littering Jeno’s body. Instead, he just saw Jeno. 

Struggling to get through each second apart, Jaemin sat himself up and placed his hands on Jeno’s hips - anything to feel him. Eye-level with his crotch, Jaemin swallowed hard, fingers digging into Jeno’s sides with restraint. 

“Jeno,” he said, his voice strained and dripping with want. Jaemin looked up at him through thick lashes, his eyes completely blown out with all consuming lust. “Jeno, please… Please,” he begged, not sure what he even wanted. What he did know, however, was that Jeno was the answer. Jeno was the solution to everything he felt and needed and wanted. He leaned forward, hot breaths fanning over sensitive skin.

Jeno shuddered, yanking Jaemin’s hair back and away, feeling like he would crumble if Jaemin dared to breach the space between them even more. The Prince whined, nails digging into Jeno’s waist hard enough to leave crescent imprints in the skin. 

“Jeno…”

“It’s alright,” Jeno assured. “Shirt off. And then lay down for me.”

With a pathetic croon, Jaemin did as told, hastily stripping off his shirt. He laid back down, his eyes locked onto Jeno the whole time. 

“Take them off,” Jeno continued, glancing down at the man’s pants. 

Jaemin didn’t need to be told twice, fumbling with the buttons before lifting his hips up, tugging the fabric off. Jeno helped him with them, yanking the last articles of clothing off him. 

Now they were equal. 

Jeno couldn’t get enough of the sight. Jaemin, stripped bare now laid ready for him, wanting Jeno and Jeno only. It wasn’t the first time Jeno had seen him naked - helping him get dressed and undressed, seeing him when he was taking his bath. But this was different. This was completely different, and it drove Jeno insane.

Dragging it out pained Jeno just as much, and so he climbed onto the bed, straddling Jaemin’s hips. He sighed in relief when he felt Jaemin’s skin against him, blazing with devouring want for him. 

The Prince groaned at the contact, hands right back on Jeno’s waist to steady the man above him. His expression was strained, gasping for air when Jeno’s hips gave a curious roll over him, the curve of Jeno’s ass teasing the impatient hardness of Jaemin’s cock. 

Endeared by it, Jeno chuckled and leaned down to capture Jaemin’s lips in a kiss. He eased him through the myriad of overwhelming urges, instead giving Jaemin something tangible to focus on as he adjusted to Jeno’s proximity. Jeno remembered their previous amorous encounter and the fear Jaemin felt there; he was scared of his own desires, worried that he would inadvertently hurt Jeno if he listened to his impulses. So he fought against his own desires, terrified by just how much he wanted Jeno, not understanding exactly what that meant. 

So Jeno led the kiss this time around, feeling Jaemin regain control over his senses, focusing just on how pleasant Jeno’s mouth felt on him. And finally, second by second, Jaemin seemed more comfortable. He allowed his hands to roam freely over the curve of Jeno’s spine, hypnotised by the sinful arch of his back as he stroked the spot over and over and over again. 

And when he really got into it, he let his hands wander further down south to Jeno’s firm ass. He cupped the flesh, moaning into the kiss as he became addicted to the way the cheeks felt in his hands. He squeezed and pulled them apart, his hips beginning to rock gradually, his cock standing firm and rubbing against the sinful curve of supple flesh. 

“Jeno,” Jaemin whined into the kiss, desperate beyond comparison to the man above him. “I don’t- I- I want you,” he stuttered out, his weeping erection slotting against Jeno’s ass. It caused him to shudder, his body knowing exactly what it was craving for. “Can I?”

Jeno smiled, pulling up just enough to properly look at Jaemin. His heart swelled with fondness, Jaemin far too sweet and endearing right now. It made him want to give Jaemin absolutely everything he had, utterly whipped for the younger man. 

“You can,” he assured. “Anything you want.”

Jaemin keened, hips jutting up and jolting an airy laugh out of Jeno. 

“Alright, alright. So impatient,” Jeno uttered, sitting himself upright, hands splayed over Jaemin’s taut stomach. He found Jaemin’s eagerness charming, giddy from how sincere the Prince was with his reactions. 

It was absolutely new to him too - this level of sheer want stemming from something more than just lust; he understood it in the way Jaemin’s eyes lingered on his face, locking with his own eyes, besotted more than anything else. It was maddening and if Jeno allowed himself to be brash he would have long indulged them in their desires, sinking down on Jaemin’s length with reckless abandon. 

Yet as it stood, Jeno wanted something more still; he was greedy with Jaemin, seeking out a tenderness amidst all of the madness. Besides, he didn’t want to toss Jaemin into the deep end right from the start.

“You’ve never done this before, right?” Jeno asked. Arguably it was a stupid question all things considered, but he still wanted to be sure.

In response, Jaemin whimpered. “What do you think?”