Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The castle hallways were silent tonight. 

Not a lit candle as far as Jisung could see—the moonlight shining through the tall windows being his sole guidance as he ran through the hallways. The same halls he grew up in, walking in his father's shadow, chasing after his best friend—whom he sought out now. 

His body hurt. One hand clutching at his side as he hobbled through the halls. It was hard to see through his left eye, it already having swelled shut. He just knew that would be a bitch to deal with for the next few days, not that the rest of him was any better. Jisung could still taste fresh blood in his mouth, his lip split and bleeding steadily, it would likely leave a scar, with it still bleeding. 

He paused under one of the massive windows, hunching over to catch his breath, catching the glimpses of red sticking to the strands of his golden hair. He could still feel the blood streaked across his face, as if it were fresh and not drying. Jisung gagged on the taste of blood in his mouth, and he spat out the saliva and blood onto the ugly red and brown carpet that lined every hall. 

Pulling his hand from the windowsill had him cringing at the red stained handprint he left. Fuck. He shouldn’t be leaving a trail for the guards to follow, and yet, here he is. His nose itched with the dry blood, and he swiped the back of his hand under it, doing little to clean up the mess as he continued to move through the halls. 

When he finally arrived after what felt like an eternity to his best friends' quarters, he was heaving breaths. He didn’t even bother with knocking—he knew his friend would be awake. 

His friend, however awake he had been before, was certainly awake now as Jisung took a tumble to the floor. 

“Jisungie!” Felix yelped, jumping up from his bed, book forgotten on the blankets as he knelt beside Jisung. “What happened? What’s going on?” 

“The King is dead...” Jisung whispered, his free hand resting on Felix’s shoulder, forcing him at an arm's length away. 

“D-dead...? Jisung what-” 

“I have a favor to ask. A desperate one. One that will change your life if you agree, please, I am begging you.” Jisung’s voice was raw and cracked, his grip on Felix tightening, his whole body shaking under the weight of keeping himself up. 

“I don’t- what’s going on? I’m confused, Jisungie, please, just tell me what’s going on, who hurt you? How is the King dead?” 

“Murder.” He rasped. “The King has been murdered; I fought for my life. That is what happened. But Lix, I need to leave.” 

“Leave? Where? They- surely the guards will find his murderer and-” 

“Lix! Please,” Jisung’s voice cracked, a fresh well of tears gathering in his eyes. “Please, I will beg if that’s what you want, I need you to take my place, be the prince, the crown prince. I can’t, I can’t do it, not now, never. Rule the Kingdom however you please, I shall never return, if you so wish, never ask for anything, never speak on how you rule, I will be your royal subject, but I want to be free, I beg you, set me free, Lixie.” 

Even not blood related, the court frequently mentioned how much alike they looked, mixing them up whenever they were together, they could pull it off. Nobody of the town had seen Jisung since he was a child, he was always too much a disappointment to show his face, no one would be the wiser, the only possible difference the court could find is Felix’s skin untouched by scarring, and the court would not be allowed to speak a word regardless, lest sound like they were challenging the crown. Keep Felix hidden for a few days to mourn his father, then slowly let him make appearances, disguised, and then slowly reveal how he looks, they could do this. 

“Y-you’re not making any sense, Jisungie. What you're asking me is-” 

“Please.” His voice was raw, and he blinked his good eye to clear the tears from his vision. “I want to be free, Lixie. Please, set me free.” 

Felix’s own eyes welled with tears, trembling. “You really trust me to run a Kingdom?” 

“I think you could run it better than I ever could.” 

“Okay... be happy. Be free, for us. I’ll do good by you.” 

“Thank you,” Jisung sobbed, “thank you. I owe you my life.” 

“You’re already giving me your life. Now go and make yourself a new one.” Felix huffed. This felt too much like a goodbye, he knew Jisung was going to leave, there was no chance Jisung would stay here, especially not after he just handed his life over to Felix. He doesn’t know when the next time he might see his best friend is, so he doesn’t waste his ‘see you later’s, he simply presses his forehead to Jisung’s for a moment, “be well.” 

The next moment, after they pulled apart, the door came bursting open, causing them both to jump. Chan stood in the doorway—black hair curly and unruly, his clothes look askew, clearly put on hastily at the late hour—assessing the situation for only a moment before he moved, removing the cloak from his shoulders and placing it over Jisung’s shoulders, ignoring the flinch at the contact of the cloak to his back. 

“I’ve prepared your horse; it’s best you leave now, Jisung.” Chan spoke, hands careful but rushed as they scoop under Jisung’s armpits, helping him up from the ground, dutifully ignoring the pained gasp from him. 

“He agreed. He’ll take my place, he agreed to.” Jisung says once he gets his feet under him, voice cracking with tears of relief. 

“Wait, he’s hurt! He can’t ride a horse right now!” Felix tries to say, standing, getting ready to pull Jisung into the bed with him. They could figure the rest out after a good night's sleep. 

“Your Highness, he needs to leave immediately.” Chan says without hesitation, and the title stuns Felix to silence. 

And then the tears come. Quick and overwhelming, crashing over Felix like harsh waves hitting the rocks at the end of a cliff, and his legs give out without a warning. Jisung pulls away from Chan, moving to catch Felix before he can hit the floor, holding him up. 

A sharp hiss leaves Jisung when Felix wraps his arms around him, hugging him so tight he felt he might pass out. Felix trembled in Jisung’s hold, crying into his shoulder. “I- j-just be sa-safe... in a months' time I demand you contact me, in whatever way you can, just tell me you’re alive.” 

“Whatever you demand, your Highness.” Jisung whispers, voice thick with emotion as he finally pulls away. “You’ll do an amazing job running the Kingdom, I just know it.” He says, wiping the tears from Felix’s rosy cheeks before he pulls away from him entirely, turning before he can think twice, exiting the room with Chan. 

“I’ll come back after I see him off.” Chan says before turning, closing the door behind him. 

Jisung and Chan walk silently beside each other through the halls, Chan offering a hand, and then his arm to take most of Jisung’s weight while they walk. When they make it to the stables, Chan helps Jisung onto his horse, a gorgeous black spotted stallion, which Jisung had claimed as his when it was just a foal for the heart shaped spot just below the horse's eye on his otherwise white face. 

Jisung didn’t immediately kick his horse into gear, and Chan didn’t leave right away either. 

“You got your freedom.” Chan says softly, one hand resting on Jisung’s ankle. “I’ll make sure no one can take that from you again.” 

“Take care of Felix.” 

“No harm shall come to him, I swear it. Now, you must go.” 

Jisung nods, waiting until Chan lets go of his ankle with that same gentle pat he always does before sending Jisung off, and it takes everything in him to not hop down from his horse and jump into Chan’s arms. 

To his father, the King, Chan was only his Steward. Someone who did the things the King did not want to do, who took care of his bidding, and attended events in the King’s place. To Jisung, Chan was so much more than the royal Steward. He was like his father, not in the same way the King was, but rather in every way that truly mattered. He took care of Jisung from infancy, helping him get well again while sick, teaching him to read and write, fence and ride, how to care for himself, even going above and beyond with teaching him household chores. 

Chan was the only other person who had seen the scars that littered his body underneath his clothes from shoulder to ankle. He had helped patch Jisung up after every beating, caring for the self-inflicted scars with such gentle hands that the act alone had reminded Jisung why he was still alive and kicking—and he had even shown Jisung how to care for the cuts and scars himself, and how best to ease the aches and pains. Chan was his father in every way the King was not. 

Jisung swallowed the lump in his throat, unable to say goodbye, so instead, he says nothing, tugging on the reigns to pull his horse into a gallop as he speeds off the castle grounds. 

*** 

Chan works quick, retracing the steps he knew Jisung took through the halls, scanning the carpet, the floors, the walls, everywhere, catching the small glimpses of a bloody handprint on the walls and the bloodied spit Jisung must have spat on the floor on his way to Felix’s room. He was meticulous with how he cleaned every surface Jisung had touched; leaving no trace of the young Prince among the halls of the palace.  

He traced it all to the King’s quarters, and then back to Felix’s room, meticulous still with how he cleaned every surface he noticed had been touched by Jisung on his travel to Felix’s room. He knocks this time when he approaches Felix’s door, and not a moment sooner is it cracking open, only to swing open when Felix sees its Chan; he steps aside easily, allowing Chan to enter. 

Chan closes the door behind him and quickly makes work of going about the room. Felix had already cleaned, likely from his nerves, but Chan wanted to be sure. 

“Chan, please, you must tell me what’s going on. I just had to say goodbye to my best friend, Chan, who, for the record, just told me his father is dead, and then handed his title to me. I demand you tell me what’s going on!” Felix pleaded, voice cracking with barely held back emotion. 

“He killed the King.” Chan said, his own voice void of sympathy for the King. 

“What...?” Felix whispered, shock evident in his tone, but Chan still didn’t look at him, continuing the meticulous scrub over the floors. 

“The King is dead.” Chan said matter of fact. “An assassin came in the night and slipped away unseen. I found him while delivering the morning papers before breakfast. That is the story the public will hear. That is what happened.” 

Here, Chan rises, wiping his hands on his trousers as he turns to face Felix, hands coming up to cup Felix’s face, holding his trembling form. “You are to play Jisung, the Crown Prince. You must go to his quarters; there I can allow you solitude, you are to stay hidden until the King’s funeral in a weeks' time. You’ve switched places with Jisung before; now it’s permanent. I will help you—I will be with you every step of the way, no harm shall come to you, ever, so long as I breathe. Now go. Do not answer the door to anyone, I shall come in the morning to deliver the news of your father’s passing, and you must make it believable.” 

Felix swallows, letting out a shaky breath as he takes in Chan’s words, and he nods. As soon as Chan lets him go, Felix is gone; trying not to run through the halls and cause a commotion among the guards but trying to get to Jisung’s room as quick as possible regardless. Once there, he closes the door behind him as quiet as the giant, old doors can be shut. 

He doesn’t sleep. How could he? Sure, he and Jisung had switched places before, Felix attending Jisung’s studies while Jisung roamed the Village, but this was different. Jisung had given Felix the rest of his life. Handed it over as if it meant nothing to him—which, Felix supposes, it had meant nothing to Jisung most days—and then run. Felix never would have denied Jisung, not his freedom, not his Kingdom, but this felt like more than Felix could handle.  

It wasn’t just money or land that Jisung had handed over to him, it was a whole Kingdom, wrapped in the pretty title of “Prince”. Or rather, Crown Prince, now that the King was dead. Felix knew there would be a coronation for that, but he didn’t know when it would be. He just hoped Chan would tell him, not as the Steward, but rather as the father he had been to Jisung—and him. 

Felix watched as the sun began rising behind the half-drawn curtains, and had he not been awake and too alert, he would have startled at the door opening without a knock. 

Chan stood there, looking like no sleep had visited him either, hair mussed and dark eyes tired, still in the same clothes he had worn last night. He gave Felix a pointed look before he spoke. “Your Highness. I regret to inform you that the King... your father, has been killed in the night. The killer got away without a trace. I’m sorry for your loss, your Highness.” And Felix could hear the way Chan forced a crack in his voice as he delivered the news, lowering his head. 

Felix forces a wobble to his lips, a tremble to his frame. He had to make it believable, and he had yet to mourn the loss of his own parents, or the departure of his friend now. His knees buckled under him and Chan rushed forwards, catching him before he could hit the floor. 

Felix released a shuddering breath, gasping as he clutched Chan’s arms around him, fisting the sleeves as the dam broke, leaving Felix gasping for air, tears falling down his face, soaking into Chan’s sleeve. 

“I-I’m nev-never going to see him again!” Felix cried. And maybe he was wrong, maybe he would see Jisung again, but that was his brother—the boy he’d been raised beside and taught beside; the same boy he’d gotten into trouble with. His Jisung, who took the punishment of solitude just so Felix could get off free. “I did-didn't even g-get to say goodbye!” He had gotten the chance, but he was stupid, and childish in the way he had refused to say it. 

Chan let Felix cry. It was good for the role, but better for Felix himself, letting himself cry out the emotion Chan knew wasn’t directed to the King. He sat with Felix until the boy had cried himself to exhaustion, and then dutifully carried him to bed—Jisung's bed, where Chan had found them, both curled up beside each other more times than he could bother to count. Once he had tucked Felix into the bed, he left him, going to the court room, where he was to announce to the Royal Court the King was no more and the Prince was in mourning. 

*** 

The sun was just breaking across the horizon when Jisung finally dismounted, stumbling down towards the ground, hissing when his back collided with the ground. He breathed in harshly through his nose, trying to keep himself quiet and not draw any attention to the alley he had gone down. He hissed through his teeth as he stood carefully, using his horse as leverage to keep his balance as he began rummaging through the satchels Chan had prepared and attached to his saddle. 

Slowly, with the help of his horse, Jisung sank back to the gravel walkway as he searched the satchels. Chan had packed him some food, coins, and all the things needed for patching himself up, as well as defending himself. 

Jisung could patch up the worst of the cuts on his calf’s and hands, but he would need to find help for his back, where the worst of the lashing had gone. He was hesitant with showing anyone his back, but it wasn’t like he had much choice in the matter—either let them heal wrong and risk infection, or have someone see his back and help patch him up. 

He drew in a shaky breath, pulling Chan’s cloak from his shoulders and taking the patch of leather from the bag, biting it between his teeth as he took the ointment out of the satchel. He pulled his trouser legs up, exposing the bloody calf’s, which he was careful with cleaning, before he applied the ointment, biting so harsh into the leather it was bound to leave indents, just to keep himself silent. 

When Jisung was done applying the ointment and wrapping the bandages around the wounds on his calf’s, the backs of his hands and wrists, he stood, using his horse again to keep his balance as he walked back through the village, now bursting with activity. Too many people brushing against his back and kids bumping him into his horse; the activity was maddening compared to the quiet stillness of the castle. Jisung wasn’t sure how people managed this—then again, he didn’t know how he had managed living in that stillness either. 

The village just felt so alive, constant movement and chatter, laughter and the smell of fresh food littered the village streets. Jisung’s mouth began to water, but before he could even begin to reach for some money from his satchel, someone was knocking into him from behind, causing him to cry out in pain as he fell away from his horse. 

When Jisung turned to towards his horse again his satchels were gone, and he watched as someone shot off in a blur to the alley Jisung had just been in. His hands fisted in the grass beneath him, and suddenly all the pain he was in was irrelevant. Jisung shot up, chasing after the figure with stumbling steps. 

If Jisung weren’t beaten bloody, he swears he would have caught up to the figure by now, but go figure, his father had to ruin that like he had ruined everything else in Jisung’s life. 

He turned the winding paths of the alley, following the figure every which way until he lost sight of him. He huffs out a frustrated breath as he came to a dead end, smacking his hand against the stone walls, which only serves to make him hiss in pain as he aggravates the injuries there.  

“And where exactly are you coming from? I’ve never seen your face around, and you’re wearing royal clothes.” A voice says from somewhere behind Jisung, but when he turns there’s no one there. 

“I stole them.” He says, an air of annoyance slipping into his voice without him meaning to. “Give me my shit back.” 

“Ohh, he’s got fight to him even when he reeks of blood.” Another voice says, and Jisung is spinning around again, trying to pinpoint and find whoever has cornered him. 

“It’ll be your blood on my hands next if you don’t give me my shit back!” 

“Cute. I love when my life is threatened.” The first voice snickers. 

“Wait a second,” the other voice says, full of intrigue. “’Next’? Who was your first kill, huh?” 

“Minnie, he’s not looking too good, maybe we should-” 

“Sh! My name, really?” 

Jisung couldn’t keep up, spinning towards the voices even though no one was even there. Fuck, where were they? His head spun, and he felt like he was going to be sick any second now. He could feel the dampness of his shirt, clinging to his back, and that was definitely not a good thing. 

His legs gave out under him, knees hitting the stone path, and he could hear his labored breathing through his ringing ears, “my shit- fuck, I need a doctor.” Jisung wheezed. 

“Minnie, we have to help him!” 

Jisung felt a hand come to rest on his back just as he fully collapsed to the floor, and he cried out in pain at the contact. “Shit- Innie, we need to get him out of the alley, now. Go get the horse he had with him.” The voice—Minnie—demanded. 

It was a blur to Jisung what happened next. He felt like he was soaked in his own blood. Damn his father for taking his anger out on him last night, he had done way worse than he usually did, and now that the adrenaline has long since worn off from the night, and again from patching what he could of himself up, his back stung with the piercing throb of pain, so much so that the earth spun and he felt he might be sick. It was a little nostalgic for him, feeling like this, as the last time he had felt this way after a beating was when it first began. 

Chan had found him the next morning soaking blood into his bedding and had stripped him then and there, sending for a maid to bring a sewing kit, ointment and plenty of towels.  

Jisung felt hysterical, barely conscious of his surroundings, but he knew he was crying. Not from the pain—he had grown too used to that—but rather because he thought himself a fool. He should have stayed at the castle at least long enough for Chan to help patch up his back. It was bad. Chan knew how bad it was before shipping him off, and yet he still let him leave. 

He woke sometime later. He wasn’t sure where he was, or even what time it was. He slowly took in his surroundings as he blinked sleep from his bleary eyes. The first thing he noticed was that he was laying on his stomach. The next thing he noticed was the numbness to his back and the left side of his face. 

Hands were on him. On his shoulders, on his waist. He wasn’t wearing a shirt—or his pants. The panic consumed him before he had the chance to register the rest of his surroundings, the sheet over his legs getting tangled as he stumbled to the floor, his back hitting the wall harshly. He brought a hand up to his face to rip the- the leaf? Away, allowing himself to see properly, the room lit only by candlelight, the window exposing that it was now dark out. How long had he been out? 

“Hey! Hey, it’s okay, you need to calm down, you’ll rip the stitches.” One of the men said, his voice soft and careful. The voice Minnie had called Innie. “We’re just trying to help; we’re almost done patching your back up.” The guy in front of him had sharp features, high cheekbones and a sharp jaw, but soft eyes. His hair was strange; black, with a patch of pure white hair on the left side of his head that mixed in with his bangs. 

“You’re okay, we’re trying to help you. The marks went further than your back, we were just trying to patch all of you up.” Innie continued to say. 

“W-why...?” Was all Jisung managed to say, his breathing less panicked but no less labored as he clutched at the sheet over his lap. 

“You were bleeding pretty bad. The fact you were even still up and moving with how badly you were whipped is actually impressive.” The other man—Minnie—said. “I put the ointment from your bag over all the cuts. They’re going to scar like the rest of them, but it’ll help the healing process.” 

Jisung finally pulled his eyes away from Innie’s careful smile, turning to look at the other man. The other man—Minnie—has short, black hair. His features are softer, less sharp than Innie’s, but no less striking, especially with the scar that slashed right through his right eyebrow, just barely touching the bridge of his nose, where it tapered off. 

Jisung’s face and back began to throb, causing him to cringe. He was still mostly numb across the left side of his face and his back, but he could feel something wet trickle down his back as he pressed himself against the wall. 

Minnie’s nostrils flared, and he blinked rapidly, as if his nose were burning. “Fuck, you pulled a stitch. Can you please get back on the table so I can finish? You have my word we won’t harm you.” 

“Why help me now? You were just trying to rob me.” Jisung asked, glaring at Innie as he tried to reach his hands out to help Jisung up, immediately pulling his hands back at the look. 

“You were wearing Noble clothes. We take from the rich,” Minnie shrugged, “it’s not personal, but it became personal when you collapsed in the alley smelling of blood. Which you smell of again since you ripped a stitch, so can you please get back on the table, you’re getting blood on the wall.” He huffed, sounding exasperated and impatient, but the look in his eyes said he would spend hours explaining things to Jisung if he asked. 

Jisung caved, took weak to fight, and they had already done so much to help his back, surely, he could trust them. Carefully he got up with Innie’s help and laid himself back onto the table, Innie adjusting the sheet so it wasn’t clinging and tangled in Jisung’s legs, but rather just resting over top of him now. 

“I’m Jeongin. That’s Seungmin,” Innie—or he supposes it’s actually Jeongin, Innie and Minnie must’ve been nicknames—says. “What’s your name?” 

Jisung can almost feel the scowl from Seungmin at Jeongin outing their names so easily to him, but his hands are no less gentle as he touches Jisung’s back.  

Jisung opens his mouth, as if to respond, but he hesitates. He can’t very well say his name. He supposes, neither could Felix when introducing himself now. Jisung had handed his life over to Felix, and in turn, also taken Felix’s life. He wasn’t sure when the next time he’d be able to see his friend, so, he assumed that since Felix was going to walk around with his name and crown on his shoulders now, it only made sense for Jisung to wear Felix’s name. 

It felt befitting for him; going by Felix’s name, as it would be a constant reminder to him for who it was that gave him this freedom. 

“F-Felix,” Jisung said, voice raspy. 

“Felix?” Seungmin said, and out of the corner of his eye, Jisung could see the way Seungmin’s head was tilted, and vaguely, it reminded him of that of a curious puppy. “And what, pray tell, led to you getting so many whippings?” 

“My father tried to beat his disappointment out of me.” Jisung snickers, but it turns to a wince, hissing through his teeth when he feels the poke of a needle through the skin on his back. “It didn’t work, clearly.” 

“Clearly, if you’re still mouthy, even when you have blood running down your back.” Seungmin couldn’t help his snicker. 

“Get whipped enough and you hardly notice the blood anymore.” He mumbles, wincing at the stab of the needle again. 

“Trust me, I notice the blood plenty.” Another needle prick. 

“Minnie has a very strong nose. He was gagging when we first undressed you—so I had to sponge the worst of the blood away before he could sew the gashes shut.” Jeongin explained, touching up the ointment on his face. “I thought your back looked bad with all the blood covering it, but as soon as I washed all the blood away... it was really bad.” 

Another needle prick. Fuck, how many stitches was Seungmin doing? 

“Yeah, my father went way overboard this time. I only got lucky that he left it to the backside. I would have been fucked if he had done my front again. No matter, I made sure he can’t do it ever again.” Jisung rasped. Another needle prick, this time it hurt, “fuck! How many fucking stitches are you doing?” He spat, banging his hand on the table, uncaring at the sting of pain that caused. 

“Only a few more. Is that why you left? So he couldn’t do this to you anymore?” Seungmin asked, face expressionless. Another prick. 

“No.” Jisung’s face grew smug, a sick feeling of satisfaction washing over him. “I left because I killed him.” 

The room grew silent. Another prick. 

“If my father had done this to me, I would have killed him too. He had it coming to him.” Jeongin said, his voice soft, features even softer as he gazed at Jisung, and for the first time—ever—it feels like Jisung has been seen. 

Jisung was prepared to hear himself be called a monster, heartless, sensitive. What he wasn’t prepared for, was someone saying they would have done the same thing if they were him. A lump formed in his throat. What did Chan think? Sure, Chan had cleaned up his mess, but he didn’t know what the man thought of his actions, and he hadn’t stayed long enough to find out. He wished he had asked. 

Another prick. 

“Done. Don’t move yet, I’ll get you some food.” Jisung heard his retreating footsteps, and he watched the way Jeongin’s eyes followed him until he left the room, his eyes returning to Jisung. 

“Do you have anywhere to go?” 

Jisung snorts. “No. I thought I’d figure it out as I went.” 

“You should stay with us. Felix should stay with us,” Jeongin says, his eyes drifting away from Jisung as Seungmin reentered the room. 

“Sit up slowly.” Seungmin says, completely ignoring Jeongin, who helps Jisung sit up, adjusting the sheet again to keep Jisung covered while Seungmin hands him a bowl of... soup? 

“What is this?” Jisung asked, moving his head slowly as he looked up at Seungmin, watching the other man serve Jeongin a bowl as well. 

“Pork, pepper and rice noodle soup. It’ll help you heal faster. It doesn’t really have any healing purposes, but you look half starved, the food will be good for you.” Seungmin tells him, sitting on the floor next to Jeongin. 

Jisung waits until the two take a bite first before timidly sipping the broth. The effect is immediate; the broth warming his body, which he hadn’t even realized had been cold in the first place. He felt calmer, less on edge, and the pricks of the thread in his back bothered him less. The pork and rice noodles tasted heavenly, the only meal he’s had in days, and he couldn’t help the soft groan that left his mouth. “This is amazing.” 

“It’s nothing special...” Seungmin said, his face dusting pink at the compliment, not looking up from his own bowl. 

“Well, to a starved man, it tastes like Heavan.” 

Jeongin giggled, Seungmin’s face growing warmer. 

They ate the rest of the meal quietly, Jisung asking for a second serving after he had licked his bowl clean. After they had all finished eating, Seungmin had picked up the conversation Jeongin had started, about Jisung staying with them. 

“We move a lot. We never stay in one place too long. We don’t kill unless absolutely necessary—necessary meaning life or death. Oh, and you need to lose the horse.” 

“Why are you even considering taking me with you?” Jisung asked. He didn’t get it. He pretty much just met these men—who had tried to rob him—and without hesitation had brought him to their hideaway to patch him up, feed him and now clothe him. Their actions had made sense to him at first—rob the rich—but now, now it didn’t make sense to him. He barely knew them; they could turn around and kill him at any moment, only, they hadn’t. 

“You have nowhere to go, and you’re not in a state to travel on your own. Plus, we took all the coins from your bags anyways.” Seungmin said, Jeongin snickering at his side. “It would be a little pointless for us to patch you up and let you free to get yourself killed within a day.” 

“I wouldn’t get myself killed in a day.” Jisung grumbled. 

“In your state, Felix? A day is me being generous.” Jisung scoffed at Seungmin, but he stayed quiet now, listening to the rest of the conditions. 

He might’ve gotten a little distracted listening to him talk though, as his hair, which hung in his eyes still, was now clean of the red that had stained it earlier. “You cleaned my hair too?” 

“Your hair was too pretty for me to let blood continue to stain it.” Jeongin said bashfully. 

“Okay, enough. Get some sleep. You need all the rest possible to heal. We were going to leave tomorrow, but we can wait another week until you’re up for the journey.” Seungmin said, “Innie, can you help him get to bed?” 

Jeongin nodded and Seungmin walked off, presumably to go to sleep himself, while Jeongin helped Jisung stand, guiding him slowly through the cramped place to the sleep area. 

*** 

A week later, Chan was summoned to the throne room. Felix had just begun leaving Jisung’s room, playing the role of Jisung perfectly. He had perfected the walk, the slight downturn to his chin while he walked past people, he had even memorized all the tics that Jisung had; such as the pout to his lips, the way he frequently fidgeted with his sleeves—never letting them expose his arms—Felix had even memorized the slight pout Jisung had whenever he was deep in thought. It was impressive, to say the least, how seamlessly Felix had turned himself into Jisung. 

When Chan walked into the throne room, Felix waved off the guards. He was lounging lazily in the throne—another habit of Jisung’s--with one leg thrown over an armrest. The makeup he wore was heavy, covering up the freckles that decorated Felix’s face, his blond hair framing his face in the new haircut. He looked every bit the same as Jisung, and Chan’s heart stuttered. He should have hugged Jisung before he let him go. 

“The funeral is tomorrow, then?” Felix’s deep voice asked. Jisung hardly spoke unless alone with his father, Chan or Felix, and the public hadn’t heard his voice before, nobody would know the difference. No one expect Chan. 

“Yes,” Chan spoke, hands clasping behind his back. “The casket will be available for the public to witness. You and I will be the only one’s allowed to touch it, aside from the grave diggers.” 

“And the coronation?” Felix asked in that same, aloof, almost uncaring way that Jisung used to ask about this topic. Chan swallowed the lump before it could stick in his throat. 

“A year from tomorrow. There will be many preparations to be done, appearances to the public to be made. After tomorrow, it will be in your hands which events you make an appearance to.” 

Felix nodded slowly, nails—freshly trimmed instead of his usual long nails—scratched lightly at his knee over his trousers. Another habit of Jisung’s. 

Chan hadn’t thought about how hard it would be to watch someone pretend they were the boy he had helped deliver during birth and raise into adulthood. 

“You know...” Felix began, “some people might take your blind eye to the murder of the King as... treason. Conspiring against the throne, and all.” 

Chan lowers his gaze, eyes studying the floor at Felix’s feet, squeezing his clasped hands behind his back. “Perhaps some might.” He said, voice calm and collected, no hint of remorse or guilt in his tone. 

“Was it necessary to kill the King?” 

“It was a last resort. I took no part in it besides erasing his evidence from the crime. It was his choice to do so. I only found out after it had been done, but I was tired of watching the abuse.” 

“Abuse?” 

“You saw his face while he begged you to take his place. The King was not kind of him. Especially not on that night. You’ve never wondered of the habits you’ve learned of his? Scratching through the clothes, sleeves never lifting past his wrist, shirts tucked tightly into his trousers, the permanent limp so well hidden you wouldn’t know it was there unless you were around all day? The King was not a good father.” Chan’s voice had risen, eyes now watching Felix intently, who had shifted to sit straighter in the throne, his lips parted just slightly in a way that was utterly Felix. The first peak of Felix that Chan had witnessed in days. 

Felix collected himself, a quiet, thoughtful hum leaving him, but there was a discomfort to the tune, a frown pulling at his delicate features now. “You are dismissed.” 

Chan clenched his jaw, turning to leave, but before he opened the door, he turned back to Felix. “I swore to him I would let no harm come to you. That is my only intention.” He says, finally turning and leaving the throne room and Felix. 

As soon as the door to the throne room closed again, Felix was letting out a shuddering breath. What had his best friend endured all these years? How hadn’t he noticed? Felix bit his lip, trying to stop the tears that threatened him so suddenly. Even while in pain and trying to leave, Jisung had still asked Chan to take care of him. He hadn’t meant to accuse Chan of treason, but the last week had given him too much time to think, to contemplate and question that night, and yet, he hadn’t stopped to think that maybe Chan wasn’t doing this for himself but rather, for Jisung. 

Felix trembled. The crown wasn’t even on his shoulders yet, but he could still feel the crushing weight of it already. He hated Jisung. Not for giving him this weight, but for leaving him to carry it himself. He understood now why Jisung had left, but he couldn’t help but hate him, just a little bit. 

He wished he hadn’t dismissed Chan. He curled in on himself on the throne, pulling his knees to his chest, where he rests his head, letting the tears come freely. He missed his friend. 

Chapter Text

The morning sun beat down on Jisung’s face, warm and comforting on his skin. He lay on his back on the grass, shirtless. He had long since stopped caring about Seungmin and Jeongin seeing him shirtless—especially after he had ripped the stitches in his back numerous times in that first week with them and had been demanded he strip bare to patch him back up and eliminate the amount blood-stained clothing. He knew the scars were ugly, but they had always made them seem as if the scars were trophies, proof he won the battles he didn’t choose to fight in. 

It had been three years since he left the life of Royalty. Two since Felix’s coronation. Jisung had to beg Seungmin and Jeongin to go back to Angelica so he could watch it. Felix hadn’t seen him among the crowd, he hadn’t expected to be seen. 

He also hadn’t expected to see the carbon copy of himself in his best friend—minus the gorgeous freckles that dusted Felix’s face. Jisung was glad he didn’t cover up his freckles. He hadn’t stayed for the whole coronation, as Jeongin had stolen something, leading them to ditch before the crowning even started. Jisung had seen his best friend though, and that had been enough for him. 

Jisung stretched lazily over the grass, until he rolled over onto his stomach. The sun over his bare back warmed him immediately, and his eyes closed, he thought he might be able to fall asleep again here and now. Or, he thinks he would have been able to, had Jeongin not joined him, draping himself directly over Jisung’s back. 

He hissed at the contact, but the pain of his back returned to its usual dull buzz. 

“You look like a cozy cat, Lixie.” Jeongin teased lightly. 

“Well, I was.” Jisung hummed, it having grown to be as easy as breathing to respond to his best friend's name. The nickname had come as a surprise, certainly welcome, but no less a surprise to Jisung when he heard them call him that for the first time. He remembered calling Felix that nickname while they were children. 

He didn’t know how Felix was managing now, but gods did he want to know, especially with the betrothal fast approaching. 

“Not anymore then.” Jeongin giggles, “Minnie said we’re leaving again soon. Told me to come get you to help pack up camp.” 

Jisung groaned good-naturally, “fineeee, I’m coming.” He sighed, a quiet gasp leaving him when Jeongin finally got off him. He helped Jisung up from the grass, and together the two walked back to their makeshift camp of their supplies, helping pack everything up to make their departure quicker. 

Jisung slipped his shirt back on, and then they were off, beginning their track back into Hellius. Jisung absolutely loved when the returned here, as he had fallen in love with the Kingdom when they first arrived here three years ago. 

It was all water springs, fresh crops and pure sunlight. At least, on the outer skirts of the Kingdom. Inside the main towns of the Kingdom, it was all bright colors and music, it was the very picture of freedom Jisung had had when he left his crown behind. 

Later that day, Jisung, Jeongin and Seungmin were all among the market. They were picking pockets, snagging jewelry off nobles without their notice, and pocketing food from stands where they could. Unfortunately for Jisung, he tried to snag some pastries off a stand, unable to help himself with them being one of Seungmin’s favorites, but the stand owner caught him and had hailed a guard from the stand across from them. 

Jisung had bolted, stuffing the pastries into his bag, shoving past civilians as the guard chases him. It was exhilarating, and fun, and Jisung couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him as he ran through the crowd, making a break down a side street. The guard followed him, hot on his heel, but Jisung had run these streets enough times to know where to lose him. 

Jisung zigzagged, turning down one street, then another, knocking some crates of food over to try slowing the guard down. 

Soon, the guard was far enough behind him that he was able to shoot down a side alley, hopefully without the guard seeing him. Inside the alley though, he bumped into someone. In an instant, he slammed the other man again the alley wall, his knife was in hand and pressing into the scarf around the other man’s neck. 

“Make a sound, and I’ll slit your throat.” He threatened, breath heavy from running. 

The man he had pinned was breathing harshly, gasping for breath, his chest rising and falling too fast too soon after Jisung put the knife to his throat. It confused Jisung, but he didn’t have time to worry about some stupid stranger. He slapped his hand over the stranger’s mouth to keep him quiet, his eyes trained on the end of the alley, watching, waiting for the guard to pass. 

He heard the clank of armor getting louder, and he turned his head towards the other man, finally getting a look at him. His dark eyes were sharp and wild, tears pricking his eyes, but the look in them said he’d make Jisung regret this. His breathing had slowed with Jisung’s hand over his mouth, but this is also where Jisung realized the man had a grip on his wrists. Tight and biting, irritating the various scars that lay crisscrossing just under the hands. His hair was hidden under the scarf, but Jisung could see the delicate black strands poking out. 

Jisung leaned in closer to the man’s face, voice dark and full of warning, “loosen your hands.” 

The man tightened his hold, his breath stuttering again as he felt the blade begin to press into his neck, a bead of blood rolling down his neck. In retaliation, the man tightened his grip again, enough to pull a hiss from Jisung as he turned his head back to watch the entrance of the alley for the guard. 

When the guard finally ran past the alley, the clanking of his armor growing further away until Jisung could no longer hear it, he turned his head to face the man. The man tightened his grip again when Jisung turned his attention to him again, enough to make Jisung’s breath stutter at the pain. 

“Let go, or I slit your throat and let you bleed out where your body won’t be found for hours.” Jisung threatened, pressing his knife more harshly into his neck, causing a few more beads of blood to drip, the scarf soaking it up. 

The other man let go immediately at the threat, hands shaking violently as they dropped to his sides. 

“Atta boy,” Jisung said condescendingly, “well, it was nice hiding with you, but I gotta dip.” With that, Jisung removed his hand from over the man’s mouth and the knife from his throat, as soon as he steps away, the man is crumpling to the floor, shaking violently. Not that Jisung much cares, he turns without a second thought and runs back out of the alley. It was about time for him to get back to his friends. 

"Felix! What happened? We thought you got caught!” Jeongin says, crashing into Jisung as soon as he walks through the door of the abandoned house they used as their safe house while in Hellius. 

Jisung grunts at the shock of pain when Jeongin crashed into him, but Jeongin doesn’t pull away yet, having been long since told that Jisung doesn’t mind the momentary pain if it’s accompanied by Jeongin’s touch, since Seungmin isn’t a touchy person and has only touched him while injured. 

“Guard thought he could catch me, but I got away, and...” He pulls his bag to his front once Jeongin lets him go, pulling the pastries he had stolen from his bag, surprisingly, they were still in perfect condition. 

Seungmin’s head pops around the corner as soon as Jisung pulled the pastries out, sniffing the air like a puppy searching for treats. He gasps when his gaze finally lands on the pastry in Jisung’s hands, “you got a flake?” He asks excitedly. 

“Couldn’t help myself, I just had to grab some, we hardly get our hands on these.” Jisung says, holding one out for Jeongin, and one for Seungmin, who both quickly snatch the pastry from his hands. 

Jeongin eats it in one bite, shoving the whole pastry into his mouth, chewing quickly and groaning in delight, whereas Seungmin savors the treat, peeling it layer by layer and letting the pieces crumble in his mouth. The difference amused Jisung, but regardless, he knew they had both enjoyed the treats he snagged, and that was more than enough to make up for him not having the chance to snag one for himself. 

*** 

Felix walked the halls of the palace, head high, day crown slightly tilted, the way Jisung had always worn it, even as a child. Felix knew by now that some habits of Jisung’s he could probably drop, but it meant too much to him to keep every last one. It was a way for him to keep his best friend close, even after years of not seeing him. 

Jisung had continued to reach out to Felix in small ways, letting Felix know he was still alive, always in the form of his favorite flower—not the flower everyone knew as Jisung’s favorite, but Felix’s favorite—a single sprig of a red snapdragon that has been snuck into the palace once a year since Jisung left, placed delicately on the throne with no trace of who or where it came from. Nobody knew how it got into the palace, but Felix and Chan knew. 

Felix and Chan were headed to the throne room now to discuss the events of the next week. No sooner has Felix sat down on the throne is Chan speaking, barely given enough chance to adjust his clothes to lay smooth. “There is the archery tournament in three days' time. They wonder if you plan on joining them again this year.” 

Felix smiled fondly. It had been completely on impulse. Jisung and him had often competed with each other around Jisung’s studies, their skills poor, but their determination to hit the bullseye outweighed their skill. At least, until they had improved, and grown competitive with it. It had been a brief taste of nostalgia, and Felix thought he might like to join again this year. 

“Perhaps, I might. I think I’d like to leave it a surprise, though.” He says, eyeing Chan. The man looked nearly the same as he had when Jisung had left, unlike how Felix had to change to more closely resemble Jisung. Chan’s posture was relaxed now that they were alone, his black and blue robes draping over his shoulders just so, the white blouse underneath only just poking out of his high collar. 

Chan nods, a soft smile over his face. He had seen the look on Felix’s face during that archery tournament after he had joined, as well as the look everyone else had, a mix of surprise and amusement at the fact that their Crown Prince had joined. Chan clears his throat, continuing. “You have a charity for the farmers coming up in two days’ time. As well as a civil affairs birthday for the Lord appointed recently.” 

“I must attend a birthday?” Felix asked, incredulous. “What for?” 

Chan can’t help his amusement. “His father passed a month ago, you attended the funeral. The boy turns of age to inherit his title tomorrow; therefore, you must attend before he can join your court meetings.” 

This was news to Felix. Regardless, he nodded, taking the information in stride. “And how is the paperwork for today?” 

“The paperwork can be finish for the day, if you wish.” 

“That is not what I asked.” 

“Apologies, I only meant that there was not much left, only the confirmation that you would be going to Hellius. For your betrothal.” Chan amended, his head lowered, hands unclasping in front of him so he could clasp them behind his back now. 

Felix swallowed. He had dreaded this. There had been much talk among the court, as well as the people in town, of the two Kingdoms connecting at last. Had the King not died, the betrothal would have been completed two years ago and had only been pushed back to allow the Prince time to mourn. The grace period had come to a close though, and the Kingdoms were starting to grow antsy about the betrothal happening. 

It was bound to happen, Felix knew this. He had been the one to comfort Jisung when he had been told as a child that his life was promised to another without his input. Felix had avoided every conversation about the betrothal up until now, where it was inevitable. He wished he might be able to talk to Jisung, just once more. So he might ask about him cutting off the agreement and if he were allowed to do such a thing. The thing Felix has heard about the Prince of the other Kingdom worried him. 

The Crown Prince of Hellius was cruel, he had been told. Cold hearted, with a stare that would kill you where you stood if such powers existed. His tongue was sharp, and his control over his Kingdom firm. Felix worried he wouldn’t know a day of happiness once the contract was complete. But Felix supposed that happiness was the least of his worries with joining the two Kingdom’s together. 

Felix took a deep breath, letting it out slowly through his nose. “Yes. It is my duty, of course I shall be going.” 

“Lix.” Chan said, his voice low, the nickname only to be heard by Felix, who’s breath caught hearing the nickname, a lump forming in his throat instantly. Chan only used the nickname when he meant what he was about to say, needing Felix to hear him, not just hear him as Jisung, the Crown Prince, but to hear him as Felix. “He would not be upset if you broke off the arrangement. He wants your happiness. The betrothal meant the least to him.” 

Felix sniffed, pulling his sleeves past his hands, dabbing under his eyes to dry the unshed tears that had gathered on his lashes. “Nonsense. I shall be going.” They’re quiet for a moment, Chan watching Felix collect himself, spine straightening against the back of the throne, tossing one leg over the other. “Will you be coming with?” Felix finally asks, voice quiet, hesitant, almost like he thought Chan would decline coming for the journey with Felix. 

“I must stay a day longer, keep things in order while you travel, make sure everything is well before I join you.” Chan said warmly. He has been beside Felix every day since Jisung left, and he didn’t plan on staying away from him longer than absolutely necessary. 

Felix took a shaky breath in, nodding. He could do that. A single day apart. He could manage that. Afterall, it’s been over three years that he and Jisung have been apart for. 

*** 

“We should go to the children’s charity. I heard one of the Prince’s will be there, which means there will be plenty of people there to support the cause, and for us to steal from.” Jeongin says, a sly grin on his face as he plops down on the old sofa between Jisung and Seungmin, tossing his legs over Seungmin’s lap. 

“A children’s charity?” Seungmin asks, an eyebrow raised, lifting his arms so Jeongin could put his legs over his lap, returning his hands to rest on his legs while he fiddled with a diamond bracelet he had stolen yesterday. “And a Prince is to attend that? Surely not the Crown Prince, that’s too minor an occasion for him to show his face; it must be the young Prince.” 

“Well, he is the beauty of the two Princes, it’s only natural that he’s the one to attend instead of the Crown.” Jisung says. 

Though he has yet to see the two Princes, the rumors of the Crown Princes cruelty and his soft spot for his younger brother were well known among the whole Kingdom, as well as the beauty of the younger Prince. 

“It would only be considered ‘natural’ if the Crown Prince attended events at all.” Seungmin corrected with a roll of his eyes. “I heard that not even the palace staff have seen him in a week. They only know he’s in the palace at all because of his Captain of the Guard coming in and out of his room.” 

“Shit, really? Did he get hurt or something? Or is it just another one of his ‘moods’?” Jeongin asked, his eyes fixed on the jewels in Seungmin’s hands. Seungmin must have noticed where Jeongin was staring, because soon, he was handing the bracelet over, a huge grin spreading over Jeongin’s face as he took it. 

Jisung couldn’t help his soft smile at that, tucking himself into Jeongin’s back, resting his chin on his shoulder to watch as Jeongin expertly pulled the diamonds from the bracelet, one by one. 

“I heard some towns’ people talking about his ‘moods’, they say they’ve become as frequent as they were when he was still a child. Nobody is necessarily complaining, unless for the sake of it, because even if they don’t see him, he’s still been a better Ruler than his father was.” 

People liked to talk. Especially about the royals, so Jisung was unsurprised how easy it was for them to pull information about them from the towns’ people. 

“Anyways, we’re getting off topic, we should go to the charity. Lots of rich people will likely attend if the Prince is. Lots to steal.” Jeongin says, handing all the pulled diamonds from the now naked bracelet back over to Seungmin, who carefully slips them all into a small pouch. 

“And a chance for you to stare at the Prince again.” Jisung teases good naturally, watching Jeongin’s face grow red with embarrassment. It’s hard not to stare at the younger Prince, he could hardly blame Jeongin. 

“I suppose I’m curious about seeing the prince too. No harm in stopping in at the charity. At the very least, I’ll be able to see what I can get for the diamonds.” 

So, there they were. Among the crowd that had gathered for the children's charity, and to see the Prince, of course. 

The people milled around, some pushing to the front of the crowd to see the Prince, who was apparently painting for the charity. Some people stayed closer to the back, trying to make bets and do dirty business under the guise of supporting the children's charity. 

“Hey, Lix!” Jeongin whispered over the conversation of the crowd. “The Captain of the Guard is here!” 

Jisung tried to go up on his toes to see above all the heads, but he was unable to see. “You’re lying. Why would the Captain be here?” There was no way he had come just for the Prince, for he had his own personal guard. 

“I am not! Look!” Jeongin said, yanking Jisung closer to him and pointing to the far side of the crowd, where the Captain of the Guard was, in fact, standing watch. 

“No way...” 

Seungmin shifted beside the two of them, one hand coming to rest against Jisung’s lower back, making him flinch, but his touch stayed firm, catching both of their attention. “Can we go to the market side, please? I don’t like what I’m hearing people whisper about the Prince.” 

Jisung made a face, cringing slightly as he nodded, Jeongin holding onto Jisung’s hand, Seungmin’s touch staying firm at Jisung’s back, guiding them through the crowd and to the market at the back. Jisung had heard plenty of what the slobs say about the young Prince, words he’d much rather leave unsaid with how disturbing it tended to be. 

They milled around the market, Jeongin and Jisung sticking together, watching from a few stands away as Seungmin bartered for the diamonds. 

“Why do you think the Captain is here?” Jisung asked Jeongin curiously. 

“Maybe the other Prince is here? The Captain is only ever present where the Crown Prince is. I’ve heard that the Captain is the Crown Prince’s personal guard.” 

“With how... hidden he is, I suppose that doesn’t much surprise me. What does surprise me is the thought that he might be somewhere in the crowd right now. For what? It’s a children’s charity.” Jisung scoffed, even his father had skipped children’s charities, always saying they were a waste of time, and that the kids would learn to fend for himself, just like he had ‘taught’ Jisung to do so. 

The thought soured in his mind instantly. 

“Maybe he’s not here for the children’s charity.” Jeongin supplied. “Perhaps he’s here just for his brother? I mean, I know your family wasn’t the best, Lix, but maybe the Prince does care about his brother enough to come away from his solitude?” 

Jisung removed his arm from Jeongin’s hold at that. For Jeongin to assume that Jisung was sticking his own prejudices with his family onto the Prince’s relationship was absurd. Even if that’s exactly what he had been doing, that didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt to be spoken and acknowledged. 

He walked away without another word, not bothering to look back, because he knew if he did than the hurt look he knew would be on Jeongin’s face would be too much for him. So, he kept walking, merging in with the crowd. They had come to steal things, so he did exactly that while he moved deeper into the crowd until he had lost track of where the others were. 

He continued moving, filling his pockets with jewels and coins until he was nearly at the front of the crowd, peaking over someone’s shoulder, where he could see the Prince. He was sat with a small toddler in his lap, holding his paint pallet off to the side so as not to let the child touch the paints. 

The Prince himself was beautiful; Jisung couldn’t help the way his breath hitched looking at him. His dark hair was pinned back into a small bun, held with a baby pink ribbon, strands of hair falling out to frame his face delicately, which had a serious look of concentrations on it. His face was soft, and so beyond pretty. Jisung knew now why the whole town spoke so highly of his beauty. Even his clothes seemed to have been picked to keep his delicate and gorgeous look. 

Nothing seemed to be out of place on the Prince, not even the toddler in his lap. At least, until the toddler shifted and Jisung got a look at the Prince’s neck. Around his neck, he wore a thick velvet choker with dangling chain’s that lay over his collar bones with tiny stars attaching to them. It was gorgeous, but entirely contrasting to the rest of his look, and it made Jisung curious as to why it felt so out of place yet looked like it held him together. 

Jisung didn’t come here to stare at the Prince with everyone though, so he pulled his eyes away, sliding back into the crowd. He didn’t wander too far from the front though, as he found a guy wearing a lovely looking gold chain, and his fingers itched to snag it off the man. 

So, he did. Unfortunately, his careful hand, and the ease with which he stole things from everyone else in the crowd were not good enough. The man felt the gold slip from his skin and was quick to snatch it back, catching Jisung by his wrist, making him wince as he was yanked through the crowd. 

“Stupid thief!” The man hollered, shoving him against bodies, making him stumble and crash to the ground. Jisung grunts at the impact of the ground on his back, but otherwise his eyes go wide, the man kicking him in his thigh before crawling over him, “you think you can steal from me? Turn out your pockets, what else have you been stealing?” 

Jisung hissed as a punch landed to his face, and another to his ribs before his clothes were being ripped, yanked and torn in an effort for the man to empty his pockets of all the stolen goods he had snagged off people. 

There were gasps around the crowd, and things were moving too quickly for Jisung to even begin trying to push the man off him. At least, not until they were pulled apart. One guard shoving the guy back into the crowd while another hoisted Jisung off the ground, finally catching a look at the ground, where his pockets had been dumped all over the place. Dozens of jewels the towns people now surged forwards to retrieve, and Jisung groaned in annoyance before he caught on to the guards' hands still holding him on his knees. 

There was a toddler crying somewhere, and as he looked around, he realized it was the child that the Prince had been holding in his lap. The Prince himself had been yanked from his painting, if the messy brush stroke were any indication, the Captain of the Guard hiding him protectively behind him, face blank as he watched Jisung struggle to get free of the guards' hands. 

“You are under arrest for thievery.” One of the guards behind him said, yanking him to his feet. 

“W-wait!” He tried to get them to stop, struggling against the direction they were trying to force him to. Fuck. Jisung both hoped Jeongin and Seungmin didn’t see what had happened, and at the same time wished they had at least seen him. He didn’t want to disappear on them, even if he had walked away mad, he didn’t want them to think he had done this to spite them. 

“Innie! Innie, I’m sorry!” He shouted, hoping he heard, relieved when he caught sight of Jeongin among the crowd, trying to push to the front but behind held back, likely by Seungmin. 

“Lix!” 

Jisung couldn’t say anything more as he was yanked away, things blurring together as he was guided through the town, his gaze forced back to the ground whenever he tried to look around. The grip the guards held on his wrists was bruising and painful as it irritated the sensitive scars littering his skin. 

He only just managed to tune out his surroundings—trying to ignore the pain as he always did when his father had dealt with him—as he was shoved through the town, only cluing back into things when he was shoved onto his knees, wincing at the pain as the grips on his wrists tightened. 

A hand fisted in his hair, yanking his head up, forcing him to watch as someone sit in the throne. The Crown Prince—it had to be. 

The Crown Prince wore a ruffled white shirt with a high collar, a silver and gold broach sitting at the base of his high collar, a dark blue and silver vest pairing nicely with his trousers, which were tucked into what looked to be riding boots. His dark hair fell softly around his face, which had a cold expression directed at Jisung, a hint of recognition in his eyes as his face somehow grew colder. 

The Captain of the Guard came to stand next to the Crown Prince, and only then did the guard behind Jisung speak. “Your Highness, this thief was caught stealing from many people at the charity and caused such a disruption that it nearly put the Prince in danger.” 

“That wasn’t my fault! That guy got way too worked up about a piece of gold, I’m the one walking away with a bruising rib!” Jisung tried to protest. It was probably useless to protest his case, but he still tried anyways. 

The Prince held out his hand towards the Captain, making a hurry up gesture as the Captain pulled something from his belt—a small knife—and placed it in the Prince’s hand. His hand closed around the handle of the small knife, and somehow, that simple action felt like a death sentence. 

Jisung’s breath hitched as the Prince stood from the throne, taking a step towards Jisung. 

“Min-” The Captain tried to say, but he was cut off by the harsh stare the Prince shot back at him before turning back towards Jisung and walking until he was stood right in front of him. 

The Prince held the knife up to Jisung’s throat, the guard behind him finding a hold in his hair again to keep his throat bared for the Prince. Jisung’s breath hitched, eyes wide as he stared up at the Prince. “W-wait- s-surely that’s a little out of proportion!” 

“Make another sound,” the Prince spoke, voice low and so cold Jisung couldn’t suppress a shiver. “And I’ll slit your throat.” 

Jisung’s breath stuttered, holding his breath as his eyes watched the Prince above him, praying to whatever god that would listen to have mercy. 

“Awe,” the Prince said, voice full of condescension. “You don’t want me to slit your throat and let you bleed out where your body won’t be found for hours?” 

Jisung’s eyes grew wider, if that were possible, jaw dropping open in shock as his exact words were repeated back to him. A hiss left his open mouth as the knife broke skin. Not bad, but enough for Jisung to feel a few beads of blood drip down his neck and into his shirt. 

Fuck. Oh, fuck. Jisung had threatened the Crown Prince in that alley a week ago. 

“Not so fucking nice to be on the receiving end now, is it?” The Prince spat, finally pulling the knife away, wiping the blood off on Jisung’s tattered shirt before walking back to the throne, handing the knife back to the Captain. He stayed standing now, instead of sitting back on the throne. 

Jisung gulped down greedy breaths, unbelieving the gods had allowed him mercy. 

“Add threats against the Crown to the list.” The Prince said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Not only did you hold a knife to my throat and runaway, you fucking endangered Prince Hyunjin. And at a children’s charity, no less!” 

“I-I can make it up to the Crown! I can be of service!” 

“Your service wouldn’t even amount to a year of wages for the scullery maid.” The Prince spat, causing Jisung to flinch, but he continued anyways, begging for something, anything except the gallows, which the Crown Prince was all too famous with sentencing for even the smallest crimes. 

“Please! I have a sly hand, I-I can fight! I can clean, or- or cook! Take care of the pets! Anything, please, I’ll do anything to atone!” 

“Anything...” the Prince mused, though it lacked any real humor. 

“Please, anything, I beg, please.” 

“Alright... I suppose I could use another house pet.” The Prince smirked, and the humiliation set in almost instantly, even at just the mere words. “You don’t speak unless spoken to, you do as told, when you are told, without argument. If I say bark, you fucking bark, and mean it. And of course, you’ll be given a lovely little collar, which if I catch you without, I will personally slit your throat where you stand. Am I understood?” 

“Yes! Yes, crystal clear! I-I'll listen, stay quiet, do as I’m told; the collar will never leave my throat unless you allow it, I swear it. I swear it.” Not for the first time, Jisung is glad he killed his father, for if he had ever caught wind of the way Jisung was begging right now... oh, Jisung knows his father would have made sure he couldn’t walk for days. 

“Perfect. Stand.” Jisung was forced up to his feet by the guard behind him rather than letting him get up on his own. “You’re to follow behind the Captain and I.” 

Jisung nodded, breath shaky as he was forced forwards, following closely behind the Prince and the Captain of the Guard. This was all too reminiscent of the ‘lessons’ his father taught, and he had to blink his eyes rapidly, focusing on the dark blue carpet underfoot as he followed them. 

They came to a stop in front of a door, and he slowed his pace before coming to a complete stop two feet from the Captain. “You’re sure?” The Captain mumbled. 

“Don’t question me.” The Prince hissed, “I want to return the... favor.” He said, pressing his tongue to his cheek with a deep scowl. 

“I shall remain waiting outside your door.” The Captain replied with a bow instead of apologizing, clearly used to the Prince’s poor temper as he turned and stood at attention beside the door, face blank as the guard behind Jisung came to open the door for the Prince. 

The Prince walked into the room, and Jisung was shoved roughly forwards, stumbling just slightly before catching his balance, taking the hint and following him inside the room. The door closed behind him, leaving the two of them alone. 

The Prince stood in the middle of the room, facing away from him, and Jisung was quick to take in the room. It was a bedroom, and Jisung could only assume it were the Prince’s bedroom. A giant bed sat against one wall, the bedspread a soft blue with purple pillows, the color so vibrant it surprised Jisung and he had to quickly look away, the curtains hung over tall floor to ceiling windows, pulled open to allow in the daylight, a soft nook with pillows and a blanket thrown over the window ledge, cozy and comforting with a book sat open on top of the blanket. And to the opposite side of the room, there were couches and a tea table set up in front of a fireplace, as well as a desk in the corner, papers thrown about both tables carelessly, everything otherwise immaculately set. 

“Sit.” The Prince said, finally turning to look at Jisung, his eyes snapping to meet his cold gaze. Jisung’s eyes flicked over to the couch, and he had barely taken two steps before the Prince tsked, “stop. Where are you going?” 

“Y-you said to sit?” Jisung said, hands fisting nervously in his sleeves. 

“Yes, I told you to sit. I did not tell you to sit on the sofa, house pets aren’t allowed on the furniture.” 

Jisung bit his tongue to prevent whatever witty comment was brewing, and instead of arguing, he simply lowered himself until he was sat on his knees, face warm with embarrassment, the blue carpet doing little to cushion the floor digging into his knees uncomfortably. 

“Stay put.” The Prince said before walking off to a room just off to the side of the bed. 

Jisung shifted uncomfortably, swallowing around the lump in his throat that refused to budge. He looked around the room, looking for an escape he knew he wouldn’t find—not with the Captain of the Guard just outside the room. He didn’t know what the Prince meant by return the favor, but he shivered to think of whatever he was retrieving. Of all the things, Jisung only hoped he wasn’t grabbing a whip, and he prayed the gods might be leniant enough to give him that small mercy on top of already sparing his life from the gallows. 

Jisung had never been one to pray, not when his father beat him, not when he left, not during any fights among the streets, but now that he had freedom, he figured that maybe there was a god who listened. He hoped that freedom wasn’t lost to him. 

He jumped at the sound of a door closing, his eyes snapping over to the Prince as he reentered the room, something jingling in his hands that Jisung couldn’t yet tell what it was. 

As the Prince got closer, Jisung found it harder to breathe, unable to keep the panic at bay as he squeezed his already blurring eyes shut. Not a whip. Not a whip. Not a whip. Was all he could think to plead. 

There was a press of cold, biting metal against his throat, and his eyes snapped open, the Prince standing behind him as he secured the metal around his neck, and Jisung’s hand flew up to feel what it was. 

The metal pricked at his throat and pressed uncomfortably against his skin when he swallowed around the lump in his throat. It felt like a collar. One you put on a dog you were trying to teach to not tug on its leash. 

The Prince walked around Jisung so he was in front of him again, looking down at him with a look Jisung couldn’t place on his face. 

“What did you think I was grabbing?” The Prince asked, head tilted just slightly. 

“A whip.” Jisung breathed out weakly, only just realizing he had started crying. 

“Huh... I don’t know if I should be honored or offended you think me to be so cruel.” 

“I’m-” Jisung tried to breathe, but it came out shaky, “I’m relieved you aren’t so cruel, if that helps you decide which to feel?” He tried. 

“Honored then, I suppose. I shall have to keep whipping in mind if you ever think to step out of line.” At that Jisung squeezed his eyes shut again, wishing more than anything he could be back home with Jeongin and Seungmin. Or, hell, even back with Chan and Felix. 

“Peculiar scarring you have. On your face.” There was a tug on the collar, distracting Jisung from getting too uncomfortable by the comment by the way it poked into his skin, Jisung gasped, eyes shooting open as he’s yanked forwards, hands only just catching him from face planting on the floor. “Keep your eyes open in front of your ruler.” The Prince spat. 

“Why? So I can gaze into your eyes?” Jisung couldn’t help but snip, a small smirk on his face, but it’s quickly wiped off his face when the Prince tugs on the leash he had attached to the collar, causing Jisung to fall completely onto the floor now. 

“You weren’t invited to speak.” The Prince said simply. “Now, some rules for you. You shall sit in silence where I direct you to sit. You speak when you are spoken to. You eat what you are given without asking for more. Am I understood?” When Jisung doesn’t answer, the Prince takes another step forward until his boot is sitting on Jisung’s back, pressing him into the floor while he pulls on the leash, earning a hiss from Jisung at the bite of metal against his neck. “You are a pet now, I expect you to act like it, since you so willingly wanted this over any other punishment I could have given.” 

Despite the humiliation of it, Jisung still thought this was better than hanging. At least this way, he had a sliver of a chance to get back to Jeongin and Seungmin. He hoped Seungmin was keeping Jeongin from doing anything reckless—Jisung would get back to them some way or another. 

“Am I understood?” The Prince repeated, tugging harder on the leash. 

“Yes,” Jisung wheezed, huffing out a breath when the leash relaxed and the bite of metal wasn’t so harsh. 

“What’s your name?” 

“I would have thought you’d find better pleasure calling me mutt. Why do you want my name?” 

“You think me too cruel.” The Prince huffed a laugh, voice sickeningly sweet, finally lifting his boot off Jisung, allowing him to sit back on his feet again. 

“Should I think of you in a dress and tiara at tea parties?” Jisung chokes on a breath as the leash is yanked on again. 

“Name.” 

“F-Felix, fuck.” 

“Felix? With a name like that, you must be from Angelica, aren’t you?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Jisung pulls a face. “I could totally be from Halo or Twilight.” Ironically, Jisung didn’t actually know where Felix was born. Not that the man knew himself either, they only knew that he had moved to Angelica with his father to live in the castle when he was three years old. 

The Prince scoffs, “not with that fucking attitude.” 

And, okay. Jisung gave him that one. 

There was a knock at the door then with a muffled announcement of “Prince Jinnie.” before the door was opening. 

Jisung blinked in confusion at the nickname sounding so familiar from the guards’ mouth. The confusion turned to sadness though. It sounded like the same familiarity that Chan had when calling him Jisungie. What he would give to hear that nickname just once more. 

He didn’t get too long to dwell on that before the embarrassment overcame him of being seen with a collar around his neck and being treated like a dog. He tries to scramble to his feet to give himself even a shred of dignity, but as soon as his feet are under him, he’s being tugged by the collar and shoved backwards at the same time until he’s landing on his ass with a sharp inhale as the pain explodes from his ass and up his spine. 

“Must you be so mean to him, Minho?” Came a velvety dulcet voice. 

“He wasn’t invited to stand.” Is what the Prince responds with. “What are you doing here, Jinnie?” Again, the nickname caught Jisung off guard, a rush of sorrow crashing over him, so strong this time, especially when he sees Prince Hyunjin walk in front of him, and the soft, delicate touch Minho caresses him with. 

Minho carefully pulls Hyunjin closer to him by the choker around his neck, straightening it. Hyunjin smiles, his eyes travelling over his brother’s face and down, his gaze pausing at Minho’s neck, a deep frown etching itself into his pretty face. 

“When did this happen?” Hyunjin asked, one hand coming up to delicately trace the still healing cut Jisung had left high on Minho’s throat. 

Jisung watched from the floor as Minho’s breath stuttered, eyes flicking shut for a moment before shooting open in a way Jisung was all too familiar with and it only served to confuse him more. 

“Last week,” Minho spoke, voice suddenly hoarse. He cleared it before speaking again, his voice level now. “This asshole did it.” 

Hyunjin only spared the barest glance down at Jisung before looking back at Minho, fixing his high collar. “I see, then. How long do you plan to keep him with you? And I’d like to deal a quick punishment myself.” 

“For your charity? Be my guest, Jinnie.” 

Hyunjin lets out a short giggle, tugging Minho closer to him by the collar so he can press a kiss to his cheek, pulling away and stepping up to Jisung. “Oh, he’s been crying, isn’t that cute. I am very sorry, but tears won’t help you from him. Some begging might help you from me though.” He says sweetly before taking the leash from Minho and yanking Jisung forwards, delivering a swift punch. 

Jisung grunts, but he welcomes the pain to his cheek. The pain was nicer to deal with than the humiliation. 

“That’s for scaring a child at my charity.” Hyunjin sniffs. And, okay. Jisung deserved that one too, he supposes. 

“I didn’t-” 

The collar was yanked on, causing Jisung to gasp at the bite of metal on his neck as he was tugged forwards again. 

“You weren’t invited to speak!” Minho snips. 

Hyunjin sighs exasperatedly. “I’m over it, now. Will you be at dinner tonight? No, actually, I would like you to be at dinner tonight, please.” He says with an air of finality. 

Minho rolls his eyes, though Jisung sees the slight upward quirk to his lips. He decides to pocket the knowledge of the Prince’s soft spot for his brother for later. For what, he’s not sure yet. 

“I’ll be at dinner.” 

Hyunjin nods, turning and leaving the room without another word. 

“The apple doesn’t fall very far, does it?” Jisung asks, watching the doors close again behind Hyunjin. He was tugged forwards again by the collar, rather aggressively this time, hands catching himself before he smacked his head on the floor. “Fuck!” 

“Were you invited to speak?” 

Jisung shook his head. 

Minho gasped dramatically, “so the dog can learn to behave?” Jisung’s face burned hot with embarrassment, staring at the floor and biting his cheek desperately to keep his mouth shut now. “Speak of him again and I’ll cut out your tongue.”

Jisung took it back. He thinks he’d prefer being called his ‘name’ instead of dog. 

He had never thought—or he supposes he did think—that when he left the palace he’d wind up here. He had once said he’d never kneel to royalty, and his father had hated that he wouldn’t kneel for him. His father had often beat him for not kneeling to him. And yet, here Jisung was; on his knees, being tugged around by a collar and leash by the Prince. 

Jisung thinks, of all the things he’s done, Chan would surely be disappointed in him for ending up where he was now. The thought stung worse than any words, punch or embarrassment he had endured until now.