Archive of Our Own ^beta

It comes with the territory.

For years, Baekhyun had lived by this. Since he was born, it was tattooed in his brain, so it would be with him every time he let his thoughts wander. He was a prince. And not just any prince—the prince. The prince of the Gujoja Kingdom—the most powerful kingdom on the Eastern hemisphere. He was the eldest son—and only son, for that matter—which meant he had a straight shot to the throne.

His father, King Byun, had raised him with the simple maxim that it came with the territory. Every time Baekhyun complained about an overseas journey, the answer was it comes with the territory. The territory meaning the kingdom—Baekhyun’s future kingdom.

Baekhyun had never met his mother. His father’s wife had died and then King Byun had never remarried. At first, some were losing hope in their king’s ability to produce a suitable heir to the throne, but Byun, determined to prove them wrong, got a servant girl pregnant without telling the kingdom, and thus, Baekhyun was born. Then, he lied to them, saying Baekhyun was the son of their former queen, but had been incredibly ill when he was young, so he hid him away from the kingdom until he had recovered. This, of course, was the biggest secret of the Byun dynasty, and very few knew about it. If someone else were to find out, the penalty was death.

Baekhyun had been a bit abnormal since he was three. There was something different about him—he didn’t act like most three-year-olds. He was quiet and reserved, rarely cried, and never spoke to anyone, not even his father, unless absolutely necessary. The only person he spoke to was another child, a bit younger than him—Park Chanyeol, the military commander’s son whose family also lived within the Gujoja palace walls.

Baekhyun hung around the more outgoing Chanyeol for most of his childhood. He spoke through him and preferred to be around Chanyeol more than anyone else. When he turned five, Chanyeol prompted him to speak for himself, so Baekhyun did. He spoke a few words to his father and a little more to General Park. Baekhyun’s father frequently tried to get Baekhyun to speak more through a number of methods—mostly force—but none were effective. Baekhyun shut himself off, in fear of his responsibilities, and relied solely on Chanyeol.

“Why don’t you ever talk to anyone?” ten-year-old Chanyeol wondered aloud. They were walking through the palace’s breathtakingly expensive garden in the spring, admiring the newly-blossomed flowers in the pristine weather. Baekhyun was dressed in his prince’s outfit (he’d recently been tailored for it and moved on from childish clothes) while Chanyeol had begun to take up soldier’s uniforms. He wasn’t officially recognized as a soldier because of his young age but he was expected to take over his father’s position when the time came.

“I don’t like my father,” Baekhyun answered simply.

“Why?”

Chanyeol didn’t know about the secret. He didn’t know Baekhyun was technically an illicit child, one whose mother was gone—dead, probably—and who never deserved the crown. Baekhyun resented his father for lying to the kingdom, and more importantly, lying to Chanyeol. Baekhyun was terrified of what might happen if Chanyeol were to find out he was only half-royal and undeserving of his prospective power.

“Because,” Baekhyun answered and decided to leave it at that. He cleared his throat. “I have an etiquette class in an hour. Come with me?” It wasn’t really a question, but Baekhyun asked anyway.

Chanyeol eyed him for a minute before giving a small nod. “’Kay.”

--

At thirteen years old, Baekhyun began taking real classes. Taught by the members of his father’s advisory, he learned about foreign relations, diplomacy, languages, military tactics, and of course, the standard rules of arithmetic and reading. It was also at thirteen years that Baekhyun began to open up a bit more.

“Prince Baekhyun,” his maid, an older woman named Minyoung whispered, shaking him in his bed lightly.

Baekhyun’s eyes opened a crack, and then all at once, fluttering a few times to wake himself up. It was early, still dark outside. Baekhyun had been sleeping soundly. “Minyoung? What’s wrong?”

“His Highness King Byun has requested your presence in his throne room,” Minyoung replied, her voice cracking. Something was not right. “Immediately. I will help to dress you.”

She dressed him intricately and quickly, in his prince’s uniform. It was his real prince’s ensemble—the one only reserved for special occasions. Baekhyun felt a growing sense of discomfort bloom in his chest. “Noona, what’s wrong?”

Minyoung adjusted the white jacket adorned with gold straps and fluffed his shirt out to make him look more princely. “The. . .” Her words stumbled. “The Zhou family has arrived early.” She turned over to pick up a velvet pillow gently, with Baekhyun’s crown resting atop it—polished and sparkly.

Baekhyun hesitated. “The Zhou family are here? So soon?”

The Zhou family were the ruling family of the Tianshang kingdom—Gujoja’s most powerful overseas enemy. However, times were changing and peace arrangements were to be made, not without cost of course. And the Zhou’s unexpected arrival might only be one part of said cost.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Minyoung responded. “King Byun needs you this moment. I can only walk you so far. I wish you good luck.”

There was a silence after that—Minyoung was waiting for Baekhyun to take the crown. Baekhyun was waiting for Minyoung to place it atop his head, like she always did when needed.

“Your Highness, may I add you are thirteen—it is time to take charge of yourself,” she whispered meekly.

Baekhyun shakily nodded, placing the crown on his head and adjusting his hair to look more presentable. If he screwed up, his father would never let him hear the end of it—and he might not, his father could appoint an unrelated noble to rule Gujoja. It was rare, but it had happened. If the son was such a disappointment, it was allowed to let a noble take the throne. This was the most peaceful way a dynasty ended.

But Baekhyun refused to let it come to that. He would be the laughing stock of Gujoja, and that was one thing he didn’t want. Walking close to Minyoung, he made his way down the maze of corridors and winding turns that was the Gujoja Palace.

Minyoung wished him good luck before the last turn, as it would look unprofessional if the heir to the throne walked in with his personal maid. Stiffly, Baekhyun followed his instinct into the throne room robotically.

The throne room was a long, elaborate golden section of the castle taken up mostly by golden statues, beautiful paintings, massively tall windows, pews for the advisory, and of course, the marvelous velvet throne to be sat in only by the king—no exceptions. The Zhou family were sitting at the pews—just a few of them—with unamused expressions on their faces. Baekhyun tried to convince himself they were just tired from their travels, but it didn’t help.

They stood up when they saw Baekhyun. Following strict instructions, Baekhyun bowed deeply to them before continuing to the end of the room to meet his father. He knelt down respectfully beneath the golden stairs leading to the throne, head almost touching his knees.

“Father,” he said, voice crackly from disuse and anxiety. “I can’t help but notice we have guests.”

“Your Highness King Zhou,” Byun addressed. It was rare to hear him give such a high title to anyone. “Please accept my son, Prince Byun.”

“How old is he, sire?” King Zhou asked, padding over to where Baekhyun was kneeling. “Stand up, prince.” He spoke with a commanding accent. The Tianshang Kingdom did not speak Korean natively. Baekhyun had been learning their language—Mandarin—in his classes, but he was afraid his ability to speak it would fail him, as he was operating only on the lessons he’d had in case this was ever to happen.

“Thirteen,” King Byun answered. “When the time comes, he will make a fine groom for Her Highness Princess Jieqiong.”

Baekhyun stood to face the stoic king. Zhou was a tall, tall man with jet-black hair, stone-cold eyes, and a broad, muscular figure. His crown rested threateningly atop his head—as if it was reminding Baekhyun to be afraid. Zhou took Baekhyun’s chin in between his thumb and forefinger, turning his head gently from side to side to examine him. Zhou then released his chin and stroked Baekhyun’s hair, almost endearingly. If Baekhyun wasn’t scared out of his mind, he would’ve laughed at the gesture.

“I must believe you, then,” Zhou stated, taking a step back. “You have raised a fine son, King Byun.”

“Thank you,” Baekhyun said, and then bit his tongue. He was not to speak unless spoken to—that was the most basic rule that all princes followed, and he had broken it.

Zhou moved towards him, hand raised as though he would strike him. On impulse, Baekhyun turned his head to the side, bracing for a blow, but it didn’t come. “You would do well to teach him to hold his tongue,” he hissed coolly.

“Your Highness,” Byun began, standing up. “Please understand he is still a boy, and he has much to learn. Mark my words, he will make an excellent groom when he is of age. There are still legions to teach him, and it is difficult when he is still growing.”

Zhou eyed the king for a moment—a gesture no one else but him would be able to get away with—and then took a step back, giving a small bow to Byun. “I see. I shall introduce him to Princess Jieqiong.”

The king moved aside to reveal a little girl, dressed in a gown far too big for her petite body. Baekhyun had to hold himself together—she had to be no older than seven years. She was pretty, but her face was still pudgy, she had obviously not lost her baby fat yet. Her hair was short and dark, and the tiny crown on her head tilted to one side. She was young—too young.

Nevertheless, Baekhyun kneeled at her feet to show respect. He felt Zhou’s disapproving gaze burning through him as he did so. “Your Highness Princess Jieqiong,” Baekhyun acknowledged in Mandarin, pubescent voice cracking embarrassingly. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Jieqiong said something in Mandarin, something Baekhyun didn’t understand, and then responded, “Pleasure to meet you, Prince Baekhyun,” in perfect Korean. Baekhyun felt embarrassed that this little girl knew more of his language than he did of hers.

“Stand up, prince,” Zhou commanded for the second time. Baekhyun obeyed blindly. Then, the king turned his attention back to Baekhyun’s father. “We thank you for your hospitality. More preparations will be made—the wedding shall take place when your son turns of age.”

Of age was a fancy way to say adult, which meant aged sixteen in Gujoja. It most likely meant the same in Tianshang as well. Baekhyun cringed after Zhou spoke.

“Prince Baekhyun,” Zhou began. “We of the Tianshang Kingdom thank you for your time. You are dismissed.”

Baekhyun felt his nerves calm at the words, and he bowed deeply to King Zhou. He didn’t bow to his father. But at the moment, he was too nervous to care, and walked out of the throne room, hoping Minyoung would be there to ask him about how it went.

“Baek!”

Baekhyun whirled around after exiting the throne room to the source of the harsh whisper. It was better than Minyoung—Chanyeol, dressed in a soldier’s uniform.

“Yeol?” Baekhyun turned around and made sure the remaining people inside throne room didn’t hear him. They were busy talking, and Baekhyun wanted to get far away from the throne room because he felt like he would throw up if he heard the word “wedding” one more time.

“What was that about?” Chanyeol asked.

“What are you doing here?” Baekhyun asked, neglecting his question.

“Baek, don’t dodge the question,” Chanyeol said as they begun to walk down the hall. Chanyeol was the only one who could speak to Baekhyun in such an informal way and get away with it.

“There’s um. . .” Baekhyun started as the two walked down the stairs to the garden. It was their shared favorite spot to talk.

“There’s. . .?”

Baekhyun let the summer breeze toss up his hair, stars glistening down in the night sky. “Wedding preparations.”

Chanyeol’s jaw nearly fell on the cobblestone walkway. “Wedding preparations?” he echoed.

Baekhyun gave a timid nod.

“Baek, you’re getting married? That’s huge!”

“I don’t want to.” Baekhyun sat down on a grassy patch next to a koi pond. “She’s a princess of Tianshang. It’s for peace.”

“Ah,” Chanyeol murmured, sitting next to him so their shoulders touched. “So it is.”

“The princess. . . she’s so young, Yeol,” Baekhyun said with a shake of his head. “She’s probably seven years old. That means, when I’m sixteen, she’ll only be ten. I don’t want to marry someone so young.”

“You have to, Baek,” Chanyeol mumbled, but the younger boy’s heart wasn’t in his statement. “It’s for your people.”

Baekhyun turned his gaze from the pond to Chanyeol. He took Chanyeol’s hand and intertwined their fingers. “I don’t want to get married, Yeol.”

Chanyeol rested his head on Baekhyun’s shoulder, still holding his hand. “I don’t want you to get married either, Baek.”

“Yeol, can you answer my question? Why were you listening to us?”

Baekhyun felt Chanyeol exhale slowly. The boy was growing, but still a little shorter than him. Baekhyun speculated Chanyeol would end up being taller than him, but now, he was taller than Chanyeol. He could still feel his breath and his nervousness against him. “You’re not the only one who trains early in the morning. I have to get up and work with the other lieutenants. I’m supposed to take over my father’s position.”

“I see.”

“And I was just finishing up a tactics lesson and walked by the throne room. I heard someone who I’d never heard before speaking before and he had an accent. So I just kept listening. I didn’t know you were in there at first, but I heard them talking about something. I didn’t know if it was important or not—I couldn’t really make out the words, that room is so big. But. . . I wanted to at least know a little of what was going on.”

“Yeol, you know I would’ve told you. . .” Baekhyun began, but felt Chanyeol shake his head against his shoulder.

“It wasn’t that,” Chanyeol murmured. “It was that I might not believe you.”

“It’s my duty as prince,” Baekhyun said, biting his lower lip. “It should be expected.”

“I wouldn’t want to believe it,” Chanyeol stated and Baekhyun didn’t respond. He didn’t want to respond. At that moment, there were so many words unsaid, so many thoughts gone invoiced, but they were young and uneasy. Immature. They were only thirteen, both of them, Chanyeol only months younger than Baekhyun. For the time being, they could only sit together, underneath the dark, starlit sky staring awkwardly over the pond, Chanyeol’s head on Baekhyun’s shoulder and fingers intertwined.

“Yeol. . .” Baekhyun began, yet another wave of anxiety washing over him. What if someone should find them like this? What would the repercussions be? He didn’t want to find out.

“Just a little longer,” Chanyeol replied, and Baekhyun figured he could give the younger that much.

--

When Baekhyun turned fifteen, there was a ball. It was a celebration, his father had explained, and at this ball, the future marriage of Baekhyun to the Tianshang princess Jieqiong would be announced to the partygoers. The partygoers would be rich nobles who lived in the palace and wealthy townspeople who would spread the news to the citizens who couldn’t go. It was like a debut into society for Baekhyun, and it was treated as so.

“Will the Zhou family be attending?” Baekhyun asked as he sat on his bed, legs swinging back and forth and watching Minyoung gather up the outfit he was to wear. The ball was in a few hours, and Baekhyun still didn’t know whether to panic or remain calm. If the Zhou family attended, he would panic, but if not, he could relax for another night.

Minyoung placed the clothing next to Baekhyun—his most formal prince’s jacket along with finely pressed white pants, golden socks, and black leather knee boots. She also laid out the richly embellished cloak embroidered with gold lacework—white and gold, the colors of the Gujoja kingdom. “I believe Jieqiong, accompanied by her guards. Your Highness, it is in your best interest to begin changing. There is much to do regarding your hair.”

“I know, I know. I’ll change quickly.”

Minyoung gave him a deep bow. “I will be back soon, Your Highness. Please be changed by then.”

“Okay,” Baekhyun agreed. He didn’t have much say in the matter, but he’d always liked how Minyoung was respectful but never babied him. He was fifteen—almost a man—and much too old to be babied.

He changed slowly, assuring there would be no folds and creases in unnecessary places. He had been to only one ball before, but it wasn’t a ball—more like a dinner party. Balls were different. Nobles from all over the continent attended just to get a mere glimpse at the luxurious life lead by the elite in Gujoja. Not to mention, it was a hotspot for possible military and trade alliances. While intended for recreation, balls in Gujoja were seen as business before pleasure.

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

“I’m almost done, just a few more minutes,” Baekhyun called.

“It’s not Miss Minyoung,” came the voice on the other end.

Baekhyun smiled and rolled his eyes. “Okay Yeol, come on in.”

In came Chanyeol, looking absolutely ravishing. He looked ruggedly handsome, just as the future commander of the Gujoja army should. His long, tomato-red hair was gelled back save for a small strand which adorned his forehead elegantly. Over the years, Chanyeol had built up a muscular body and surpassed Baekhyun in height (which Baekhyun wasn’t too happy about). His hard work and training showed through the white collared military uniform with black trousers, decorated with badges and patches earned by completing challenging tasks. . . plus, his chest looked broad, muscular, and healthy.

“Wow,” Baekhyun commented, adjusting his collar while continuing to study his friend. “Don’t you look handsome!”

“Really?” Chanyeol asked proudly.

Baekhyun nodded. “You’ve been working hard, haven’t you? It shows. You look like a commander already.”

“Thanks, Baek,” Chanyeol said graciously as he made himself comfortable on Baekhyun’s large bed. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Baekhyun scoffed. “My shirt is too. . . puffy. Goddamn, I don’t even know how to describe it.”

“Is it uncomfortable?”

“Not too bad,” Baekhyun answered. “I just feel so. . . out of place. Like I’m gonna screw this whole thing up. I’m gonna meet Jieqiong again, and I don’t want to. She’s only nine, Yeol, it feels wrong.”

“It is,” Chanyeol agreed gravely. “But you are not the first prince to marry a younger princess. I know you will treat her well because I know you, Baek. You’re kind and charismatic and you can make anyone like you. Now, are you finished changing?”

Baekhyun looked at himself in the mirror, unsatisfied. Before turning around, he felt Chanyeol’s arms around him, head buried in Baekhyun’s back.

“Yeol? Is everything alright?”

“It seems too surreal,” Chanyeol murmured into Baekhyun’s back. “You’re getting married next year. And I’m gonna be a commander soon. It’s all happening too fast.”

“We’re growing up, Yeol,” Baekhyun stated, resting his hands on Chanyeol’s, which were still wrapped protectively around his waist. “It’s going to happen eventually. We both have our own duties.”

“I’m proud of you, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol rarely used his full name. “You’ve come so far since when you were younger.”

Baekhyun paused, letting Chanyeol’s words sink in. I’m proud of you. He felt grateful, confident, even. “Thank you.” He turned around in Chanyeol’s arms and hugged him tightly, burying his face into Chanyeol’s chest and inhaling his cologne.

They stayed like that for a while, Chanyeol’s face in Baekhyun’s neck and Baekhyun’s in his chest. Baekhyun felt like they could stay like that forever. He didn’t care that his royal jacket might get wrinkled, or that he might smell more like Chanyeol than himself. All he cared about was Park Chanyeol, in that moment, and the way his arms felt protective and comforting over him.

A cursed knock on the door broke their embrace.

“It’s Minyoung,” Baekhyun murmured, still not leaving Chanyeol’s arms. “She’s brought someone for my hair. It looks atrocious.”

“Mm,” Chanyeol whispered, breath fanning out over Baekhyun’s neck. Baekhyun shivered.

“Yeol, I have to see her. I’m not ready.”

“Okay.” Chanyeol stepped back, hands in his pockets. “Do you mind if I stay here? I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

“Of course not,” Baekhyun said with a nod before opening the door. “Noona, are you doing my hair now?”

“Yes, Your Highness. I will just gel it back, is that substantial?” Minyoung asked, stepping the room. “Good evening, Colonel Park.”

Chanyeol bowed. “As to you, Miss. Is it a problem if I stay here? To keep Baek company.”

“No, not at all.” Baekhyun liked how Minyoung never corrected him when he used his given name rather than saying “Your Highness”. Many people would gasp and scold him, telling him to give proper respect, but not Minyoung. She simply let Chanyeol speak how he wanted. She knew how close Baekhyun was with Chanyeol, and how much they treasured each other.

Minyoung did Baekhyun’s hair quickly and quietly. Baekhyun and Chanyeol discussed the ball, and who they thought would be attending. Chanyeol said he was hoping for the duke of a faraway kingdom called Kyuseishu because he wanted to gain a military ally. Baekhyun wanted to meet his father’s best friend—a noble living on the outskirts of Gujoja.

“You’re finished, Your Highness,” Minyoung said, taking a step back. She was exceptional in hair styling—it was what she was hired to do in the palace before taking the position of Baekhyun’s personal maid. “Is it to your wishes?”

“Yes,” Baekhyun answered, examining himself in the mirror. It was parted off to the side, with one side gelled back and the other combed delicately to the opposite side. “Thank you, noona.”

“May I ask Colonel Park’s opinion?” Minyoung asked. “It always helps to receive more feedback.”

“It looks great,” Chanyeol answered informally. “You look great, Baek.”

“You will be called to attend shortly, Your Highness,” Minyoung explained. “You are second to the guest of honor. Only the Tianshang princess is above you in rank. She will arrive last and you, before her. I will tell you when to make your way to the ballroom. You will need to wait on the stairs for the announcer to call your name.”

“And. . . Chanyeol can come with me?” Baekhyun asked.

“I’m sorry Your Highness,” Minyoung answered with a solemn shake of her head. “You are instructed to arrive alone. He may meet you once you walk down the stairs.”

There was a dull silence upon her answer, but then Chanyeol spoke up again.

“Can I put his crown on?”

In Gujoja, crowning the prince was no small feat. During his coronation, Baekhyun’s wife (who would be Jieqiong) would ceremonially place the king’s crown in his head. When he was still a prince, he was the only one allowed to touch the crown, or his personal servant, Minyoung, could touch it when she was putting it on his head when he was too young to do it himself. For someone else to do it, the prince would need to give verbal permission. Not many men in Gujoja could say they had placed the crown on the prince’s head.

Minyoung blinked. She turned to Baekhyun, silently asking for him to answer.

“Yes,” answered Baekhyun. “Noona, would you give us some privacy? Return when I need to go to the ballroom.”

Minyoung bowed. “Yes, Your Highness.”

The crown was in a white box rimmed with gold. It was protected by a lock, whose key Baekhyun kept in his desk drawer (not very well-concealed, but Baekhyun couldn’t care less). Feeling Chanyeol’s eyes follow his movements, he opened his closet and brought out the box. Unlocking it, he pulled out a velvet pillow with the beautiful, jeweled prince’s crown atop it.

“This is it,” Baekhyun stated, walking over to Chanyeol who was sitting on the edge of Baekhyun’s bed.

They switched sides, Baekhyun gently giving Chanyeol the crown pillow. For a moment, Chanyeol didn’t move. He was mesmerized by the historic crown, one he’d rarely seen up close—save for a few moments when they were foolish kids. Then, he placed the pillow next to Baekhyun on the bed and took the crown in his large hands.

His movements were jarred and robotic, hands almost shaking. Baekhyun watched him nervously. The only people that had touched the prince’s crown were himself, Minyoung, and his father, the king. Now, he would have to add Park Chanyeol to the list.

Baekhyun’s eyes met Chanyeol’s as Chanyeol rested it gently on Baekhyun’s head. It was intimate and beautiful, Chanyeol’s hands found themselves resting in Baekhyun’s hair even after the crown was securely on his head.

“You’re beautiful, Baek,” Chanyeol whispered.

Baekhyun didn’t respond, only continued to look up at Chanyeol with large eyes.

“I’m so lucky to know you,” Chanyeol continued. “I. . . I. . .”

Baekhyun reached up and cradled Chanyeol’s cheek gently. “Thank you, Yeol.”

Chanyeol leaned into his touch. “No, Baek, I just. . .”

“Just what?” Baekhyun asked, keeping a hand on Chanyeol’s cheek. “Tell me, Yeol.”

“I’m just. . . trying to tell you something, but it’s not coming out,” Chanyeol mumbled disappointingly.

Baekhyun stroked Chanyeol’s cheek with his thumb, a feather-light motion. “Yeol. . .”

Chanyeol let out a ragged breath. “If I tell you, it will screw everything up.”

“Like what?”

“Like your whole relationship with me,” Chanyeol whispered. “And your wedding. And your future.”

“I doubt that,” Baekhyun said. “Tell me, Yeol.”

“I can’t. I have to go.”

And just like that, Chanyeol had left Baekhyun’s room, leaving the prince in stunned disbelief. Something told him that he should be angry at Chanyeol for leaving him hanging, but another part of him knew that there were some secrets even Baekhyun couldn’t know. Maybe it wasn’t a secret but. . .

No. He shouldn’t think of such things. Baekhyun shook the idea from his mind. It was foolish.

Love. So foolish.

There was no way Chanyeol was going to tell Baekhyun his feelings. Baekhyun stood up, trying to forget the conversation, but knowing it would be in the back of his mind until he got closure. He stared at his reflection in the mirror for the umpteenth time that day, taking in the sight. Not really of himself, no, but of the crown. How it looked brighter on his head because of who had placed it there. Maybe during the ball, Baekhyun could pull Chanyeol aside and. . .

Princes about to become kings shouldn’t have that thought, Baekhyun chastised himself. Still, his hand yearned for Chanyeol’s and he thought back to the time when they were thirteen and he had just found out about his future marriage to Jieqiong. He remembered how Chanyeol’s head felt on his shoulder and how his hand was warmer when Chanyeol’s fingers were intertwined in his.

Baekhyun gave a huff of annoyance. How could he think of love at such times? He wasn’t in love with Chanyeol, their relationship was purely platonic. Chanyeol was his best friend, his most trusted companion, and Baekhyun couldn’t jeopardize that by something as trivial as love.

“Your Highness?” A gentle knock and Minyoung’s voice. “It is time.”

Baekhyun stared daggers at the door, not wanting to go the ball all of a sudden. He wanted to envelope himself in his sheets and figure out his feelings, for they weren’t letting him think straight. But it was his duty and obligation to attend that goddamn ball and Chanyeol was already there.

He opened the door and Minyoung greeted him with a bow. “You look excellent, Your Highness. You will receive the Prince’s Sword of Gujoja when you arrive, do you have any questions?”

“No,” Baekhyun answered blankly. The Prince’s Sword of Gujoja was given to princes when they reached adulthood—sixteen years old. However, he was going to be given it for show, to demonstrate his social ranking to the foreign kings, queens, and nobles. He was not allowed to formally own it until he reached age sixteen.

Baekhyun followed closely to Minyoung as they progressed down the winding hallways of the palace. Hallways Baekhyun had known since he was young suddenly seemed foreign, engulfed in his nervousness. He didn’t want to get married, didn’t want to meet Jieqiong, wanted to rule the kingdom of Gujoja with no one but Chanyeol by his side.

Minyoung bowed to him before motioning to a set of stairs leading to a large wooden door with a golden handle. Above it, the plaque of Gujoja, glistening with gold and white. As Baekhyun walked up the stairs, two guards bowed to him before pushing the doors open with white-gloved fingers.

The ballroom was crowded, the bright clothing of the nobility almost blinding Baekhyun. Colors from all over the east and farther clung to the crowds of royals, nobles, and generals from other kingdoms. There were concessions and food in the far-right corner of the room, with a chocolate fountain that caught Baekhyun’s attention. The ceilings seemed higher than Baekhyun remembered—decorated with breathtaking diamond chandeliers and elaborate paintings on the ceilings, depicting legendary battles and kings that had ruled Gujoja in the past. There were servants delivering champagne and miniature eatables to the wealthy men and women, who chatted and laughed loudly, while others danced formally to the classical music produced by a quartet of violins, cellos, and violas in the corner opposite the food. Baekhyun had never been to a ball as formal as this.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the prince of Gujoja, His Highness Prince Byun Baekhyun!” the announcer, a butler Baekhyun didn’t recognize dressed in a tuxedo, announced to the partygoers.

This attracted the attention of the individuals. The music continued playing, but the guests had turned their attention to Baekhyun, namely the women. Another servant came up to Baekhyun and kneeled, presenting the Prince’s Sword of Gujoja, sheathed in a black velvet case adorned with gold rimming.

Baekhyun took it hesitantly and attached it to his belt so it would sway next to him. Then, he progressed down the stairs, trying to ignore the eyes of everyone. As he stepped onto the marble floor, he was approached by a few beautiful wealthy foreign women.

“Would you care to ask me to dance?” one of them asked, earning immature giggles from her friends surrounding her.

“Ah,” Baekhyun began. “I’m afraid I cannot, but thank you for offering.” He cleared his throat, watching the women erupt in a chorus of whispers of disappointment as the women made their way through the crowd.

“You made it,” a deep voice said from behind him. “That was quite the entrance, Baek.”

Baekhyun knew who it was instantly. “Yeol!” He threw his arms around the younger and Chanyeol laughed and hugged him back.

“I was only gone for ten minutes,” he whispered with a chuckle.

“Too long,” Baekhyun replied as he released Chanyeol. “I don’t know when the princess will come. I hope she never does.”

“Baek!” Chanyeol scolded playfully. “You can’t say that, not here in front of so many people.”

Baekhyun scoffed. “I don’t care.”

“You should,” Chanyeol stated and took a glass of champagne from a tray being carried around by the servants, slipping his other hand in his pocket.

“Have you ever had champagne?” Baekhyun asked curiously, eyes widening with wonder at the sparkling beverage.

“No,” Chanyeol began, inspecting the drink all the same, “but I’ve got to look more mature if I’m gonna impress that duke from Kyuseishu.” He took a sip of champagne and visibly cringed. “It’s really. . . bubbly? I don’t know if that is the proper word.”

“Indescribable,” Baekhyun concluded and Chanyeol nodded.

“Ah! Baek, there he is! I will be back, just give me—”

“Yeol, it’s okay,” Baekhyun assured. “I’ll be fine without you for. . . a few minutes.”

Chanyeol eyed him. “Hmm. You weren’t earlier.” However, he ruffled Baekhyun’s hair playfully and Baekhyun wished him good luck as he moved to meet the Kyuseishu duke.

“One might think you are brothers.”

Baekhyun turned around, startled, to see his father, with a foreign woman on his arm. It was strange, King Byun rarely had shown interest in women since the passing of his wife, the late queen of Gujoja. “Fuh—Father,” Baekhyun acknowledged, cursing himself for stuttering.

The king whispered something to the young woman and she smiled and took a step back into the crowd. Then, he turned his gaze to Baekhyun. “My son, such topics have crossed my mind numerous times before. I did not think I would have to talk to you about them here, but fate works in strange ways.”

Baekhyun was frozen. He had a dreadful feeling he knew what his father was referring to.

“Your relationship with the colonel,” King Byun began, and Baekhyun’s stomach sank upon realizing his premonition was right. “It is purely platonic, am I correct?”

Baekhyun, shaking, nodded. Byun began to walk towards the outer part of the ballroom, where no one would overhear them. Baekhyun followed anxiously. “Why should you think such a thing?”

“I fear that. . .” Baekhyun’s father paused. “Perhaps he is something more than a friend. Your relationship with him has deepened intensely, Baekhyun, and one would have to be blind not to see how emotionally attached you are to him.”

“Father, your worries are for nothing,” Baekhyun replied, but his tone wasn’t especially convincing.

“I hope you are being honest, my son,” Byun said. “Keep in mind, your duty is to your people, to your kingdom, and not to one single person. Your marriage should be the only thing on your mind, not the general’s son, no matter how much you value him.”

“It is, I’m being truthful,” Baekhyun stated. “He is a friend and Father, he was there for me when I was all alone. I cannot help but be attached to him.”

Baekhyun’s father looked him in the eyes. “I truly wish that were the case. Now, the princess will be entering shortly. Please, introduce her to everyone you know here. You will be pleased to know that the prince of Cheongug is here. Regretfully, I don’t know where he has run off to as he is quite the. . . ahem, womanizer, but now would be a great time to catch up with him and strengthen our alliance.”

Baekhyun gave him a bow. “Yes, Father.”

The prince of the Cheongug Empire was an extremely handsome young man named Kim Jongin. He also happened to be one of Baekhyun’s closest friends outside the kingdom. Seeing as the Cheongug Empire was Gujoja’s closest ally, they frequently saw each other whenever the royal families would meet to discuss and further their alliance. Naturally, they became fast friends.

Jongin, however, was not mannerly. He was a womanizer, and Baekhyun’s father frequently warned him of the consequences that would be given to him if he ever took up Jongin’s ways. Baekhyun knew he wouldn’t, but he couldn’t stop from hanging around Jongin when they got the chance. Jongin was also younger than Baekhyun, but nonetheless, loved to flirt and sweettalk the pretty noble ladies.

Baekhyun saw Jongin right as he turned around, smiling brightly at a young woman whom Baekhyun did not recognize.

“Jongin!” Baekhyun called, and the younger instantly warmed upon seeing him. He left the woman quickly, giving Baekhyun a bow and a friendly hug.

“Hyung! It’s been a while,” he commented.

“It certainly has,” Baekhyun agreed tiredly.

“You’re getting married soon, I hear?” he asked, a sly smile on his face.

Baekhyun blinked. “Has my father already announced it?”

Jongin nodded. “Yes. He did not say her name or her affiliation, but I was hoping you might tell me. I was gonna try to find you after you arrived, but I lost you. Now that I’ve found you, will you tell me?”

Baekhyun smiled. “I suppose. Her name is—”

“Ladies and gentlemen, the guest of honor has arrived!” The announcer’s booming voice caught the attention of Baekhyun and Jongin. The ballroom went silent, save for the classical music still playing. “Her Highness the Princess of the Kingdom of Tianshang, Zhou Jieqiong!”

There was a chorus of whispers, and then the announcer continued. “Her Highness is to be married to Prince Byun Baekhyun to unite the kingdoms of Gujoja and Tianshang!”

More whispering.

“So that is her,” Jongin remarked. “She is quite young.”

“Unfortunately,” Baekhyun added. “I must greet her as she comes down the stairs.”

He had studied a bit more Mandarin ever since being introduced to Jieqiong a few years ago, and liked to consider himself fluent. However, he knew that he would forget everything the moment he began to dance with her. She was much too young, too young to be married.

Baekhyun wove through the sea of men and women taking in her appearance. Jieqiong was pretty. She was tall for her age, with medium-length black hair and a pretty dress—yellow and purple, the regal colors of the Tianshang kingdom.

“Greetings, Princess Jieqiong,” Baekhyun said in shaky Mandarin. “Huān yíng.”

Jieqiong thanked him quietly in Mandarin. She held out her hand, and, as protocol, Baekhyun kissed the top gently. Then, he brought her to dance to the music.

It was, in one word, awkward. They did not speak once, did not acknowledge each other after their greeting. Baekhyun was partly glad for this—he wouldn’t have to use his poor Mandarin skills, but in the end, all he wanted was for the dance to be over so that he could go back to talking to Jongin and ask Chanyeol about his meeting.

Eventually, Baekhyun heard the music begin to fade, signaling the dance was ending. Desperate to get away, he released her hand and gave her a bow. “It was a pleasure to meet you again, Princess Jieqiong,” he said in Mandarin. “I hope we will walk a flowery path together.”

“And you as well,” Jieqiong replied. Baekhyun could sense she was as nervous as he was, so he figured he would leave her alone and let her do what she wanted.

“I will. . . attend to my own business,” Baekhyun explained, substituting the Mandarin words he didn’t know with Korean, so the languages were all mashed up. It was a surprise Jieqiong could even understand him. “Good night, Princess.”

“Good night,” Jieqiong said in Korean with a polite curtsey. Then, she disappeared into the crowd, possibly to find other guests from Tianshang and Baekhyun breathed a sigh of relief.

“Is she nice, hyung?”

Baekhyun turned around and saw Jongin. He began to make his way through the crowd, Jongin at his heels. “Yes, she’s nice. I don’t want to try to get to know her though. She’s at an age where she barely knows herself.”

“And you know yourself?” Jongin prompted. “You forget, you’re young too. The princess is similar to you in that way.”

Baekhyun paused but kept walking, eventually slipping past two glass doors to the quiet tranquility of a balcony overlooking Gujoja. There were lights on in the city homes, and people still walking about and talking to each other. The homes were dirty and small, the city grimy and run-down, but the citizens were all friendly, like one big family. Baekhyun wished he could say the same about the royals.

“The kingdom is very pretty,” Jongin commented.

“The people are pretty,” Baekhyun corrected. “The city is not. Gujoja is among the richest kingdoms in the east, but most of it goes towards military funding and for the nobles to live lavishly. When I take the throne. . . I’m going to redo the whole kingdom, so everyone can have shoes and food at night. Just one more year.”

“I thought you weren’t excited about becoming king soon,” Jongin stated. “It might’ve been my own false intuition though.”

“It is daunting, yes,” Baekhyun agreed. “And I used to not want the crown. But now. . . I know what I would do to the kingdom. I know what we would do.”

“We?”

“Chan—Jieqiong. Princess Jieqiong, I think she has lots of potential,” Baekhyun fumbled, hoping Jongin didn’t catch his slip-up.

But Jongin was smart. “Hyung, I know you didn’t mean that,” Jongin argued with a laugh. “Tell who we is.”

“Chanyeol and me,” Baekhyun mumbled, twiddling his thumbs in embarrassment.

“Ah,” Jongin said. “Do you love him?”

“Love? Of course not, we’re just. . . friends.”

“Friends?” Jongin prompted, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. “I don’t think you’re telling me the truth, hyung. Tell you what, if you tell me the truth, I’ll tell you something about me that you don’t know. And it won’t be some bullshit, like what my favorite color is. It’s red, by the way.”

Baekhyun swallowed. “I suppose.”

“So?”

“I. . . I think I might have feelings for him. . .” Baekhyun admitted. “But Jongin! You can’t tell anyone, you understand? If you do, I could be cast out or Chanyeol could lose his job and be kicked out of the castle.”

“Yes yes, I know the procedure,” Jongin said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m no stranger to secrets, hyung. Anyways, my truth is that I think. . . I think I met someone I like.”

“Jongin, you’re a bit young for love, don’t you think?”

“That’s why I said like, hyung.”

“Mm,” Baekhyun mused. “So? What’s her name?”

“His. His name,” Jongin corrected, a blush spreading across his cheeks.

Now, Baekhyun was royally surprised. Who would’ve thought Kim Jongin, resident womanizer-prince of Cheongug, had a thing for a boy? Not Baekhyun, that was for sure.

“That is quite the surprise,” Baekhyun stated. “Does he live in the castle? Is he from your kingdom?”

“He is from Cheongug,” Jongin supplied. “But he is not in the castle. He. . . he is not wealthy. He comes from a poor family, and he is a messenger for the palace. He is a little older than me, but younger than you.”

“Ah,” Baekhyun hummed. “What is his name?”

“If I tell you. . . and he comes to your palace bearing a message from Cheongug. . . you will have to act like this conversation didn’t happen, understood?”

“Of course,” Baekhyun said.

“It’s Kyungsoo.”

“Kyungsoo,” Baekhyun repeated. “If he is a messenger, I am guessing you do not see him very often.”

“He is called to the palace frequently, so I may seem him for a few hours but when he has no messages to deliver, he goes back to his house,” Jongin said in a disappointed voice.

“Does he know of your. . . feelings?” Baekhyun asked.

“No,” Jongin answered. “We are friends, and I don’t want to put that on the line. Besides, I am not supposed to like another man. I have too much a reputation as a. . .”

“Womanizer,” Baekhyun supplied and Jongin chuckled.

“I suppose that is a good word.”

Just then, the glass doors opened, revealing an ecstatic Park Chanyeol, holding two glasses of champagne in his hand. Chanyeol was not very well-acquainted with Jongin, which made the atmosphere slightly awkward.

“I. . . have to speak to someone,” Jongin said, excusing himself. “It was a lovely talk, hyung.”

After the glass doors were shut again, leaving just Baekhyun and Chanyeol. Chanyeol, face slightly perplexed, strolled over to Baekhyun and stood next to him. He handed him a glass of champagne. Baekhyun had never had champagne before, but he decided he should give it a try.

“Who was that?” Chanyeol asked. “He’s the. . . the Cheongug prince, isn’t he?”

“He is,” Baekhyun replied. He brought the champagne flute to his lips and took a gentle sip. It was exactly as Chanyeol described it earlier—bubbly and indescribable. Baekhyun thought the word fizzy would fit the taste.

“He is very handsome,” Chanyeol commented.

Baekhyun gave a nod of agreement. “He is.”

“So, how was your dance? Did you speak any more to the princess?”

Baekhyun took another drink of champagne. “Not unless you count an introduction as a conversation,” he said bitterly.

“I take that it didn’t go well,” Chanyeol thought aloud, a coy smile on his face.

“I think it’s rude to make fun of one’s failures, isn’t it, Yeol?” Baekhyun asked, an equally trolling smile on his face.

Chanyeol took a drink of champagne. “Only if it’s funny. Right now, I find it rather humorous that you’re to be married to a girl you can’t even talk to. And don’t tell me you can’t speak Mandarin, I’ve heard you speak it fluently.”

“Fluently might not be the word,” Baekhyun muttered. “And anyways, you met with that duke from. . . remind me again. . .”

“Kyuseishu,” Chanyeol reminded with a laugh. “And it went amazingly. He is speaking to my father right now about a military alliance. I thought we could propose a toast to that, is that too boastful?”

“No, not at all,” Baekhyun said. “But don’t we need more people for it to be a toast?”

Chanyeol shrugged. “I suppose it’s subjective, isn’t it? It can be just us, right?”

Baekhyun raised his glass. “I guess it can.”

Chanyeol raised his, and their flutes met with a satisfactory clink.

“A toast,” Baekhyun proclaimed, “to our glorious Colonel Park for creating a lifelong alliance between the kingdoms of Gujoja and Kyuseishu. Long live Gujoja! Long live Kyuseishu! Long live Park Chanyeol!” His voice was falsely deep, mimicking the tones his father would use when having his own toasts during dinner parties when he was younger.

Chanyeol laughed. “Long live the Byun Dynasty!”

Baekhyun giggled lightly and sipped his champagne, not taking his eyes off of Chanyeol as he did so. After they swallowed, Baekhyun swirled his champagne around, gazing deeply into the liquid. “Um, Yeol. . .”

“Mm?”

“Now that we have a bit of time. . . what was it you wanted to tell me in my room?” Baekhyun asked in a meek voice, afraid he was crossing a line.

Chanyeol stopped. “As I think about it, Baek, it wasn’t important. Maybe we should drop it.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I said we should drop it,” Chanyeol said, voice lower and more commanding.

Baekhyun might’ve been the prince, but he wasn’t about to force Chanyeol to obey him. Chanyeol was powerful and strong, and, even though Baekhyun was higher than him socially, he wouldn’t make Chanyeol do something he didn’t want to do. Chanyeol’s tone just about frightened him into silence, and he took a step back.

The younger cleared his throat. “I’m. . . I’m sorry, Baek. I shouldn’t’ve been so impolite.”

“I’m sorry for pushing, Yeol,” Baekhyun apologized. “But Yeol, will you promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Don’t forget what you wanted to tell me,” Baekhyun said, resting his head on Chanyeol’s shoulder. “And then tell me, when the time is right.”

Chanyeol gave a small nod and Baekhyun felt his head ride the motion. “I promise.”

--

Approximately a week before Baekhyun was to be married, everything changed.

Baekhyun had mended his relationship with Chanyeol since the ball and they were even closer than they’d been before. His father still kept a close eye on their relationship, and Baekhyun made sure to take Chanyeol places where they would surely be alone before having long, deep conversations.

It was the morning of his sixteenth birthday when all hell broke loose.

He was changing into his formal prince’s jacket, which had been even more lavishly embellished when his door burst open.

“Chanyeol?” Baekhyun asked, startled, taking a step back. “What’s wrong?”

“Baek, you have to get out of here!” Chanyeol’s words were shaky and it was clear the younger was panicking. His hair was messy and his eyes wide with fear.

“What? What’s going on?” Baekhyun asked as Chanyeol took his hand before pulling him forcefully out of the room and began taking him down the hallway.

“It’s Tianshang,” Chanyeol breathed as they ran. “They’re invading.”

Baekhyun’s heart stopped. “Wuh—what?”

“The marriage thing was a setup,” Chanyeol explained as he stopped running at a corner and his voice dropped below a whisper. “Shh.”

There were footsteps. Baekhyun felt his legs paralyze with fear.

Chanyeol slowly peered past the wall, and then breathed a sigh of relief. “They’re Gujoja soldiers,” he explained. “Come on. We have to go.”

He pulled Baekhyun past the wall and surveyed the soldiers, keeping Baekhyun in his grasp.

“Major!” one of them said. “Tianshang has taken the east half of the palace. There’s backup coming in from Kyuseishu and Cheongug. We should fight them off by the morning, but for now, the royal family needs to be secured. It is not safe for them.”

“How are the cities?” Chanyeol asked.

“Only one on the east half is occupied—Cheonsa.”

“Take back the castle first,” Chanyeol ordered. “Then we will deal with Cheonsa. Relay this information with the other troops and I will be arriving shortly, after the prince is safe. Hold your positions and fight stealthily. Remember, you know this castle, not them. Use that to your advantage.”

The soldiers bowed. “Yes, major.”

“All the best,” Chanyeol wished before pulling Baekhyun down the hallway. He unsheathed his sword. “It’s bad news, Baek. They could be anywhere.”

“Yeol, what did you mean when you said you would join them?”

Chanyeol didn’t answer. Instead, he changed the subject by pulling Baekhyun down in the direction of the kitchen. They passed through the massive kitchen without any of the cooks inside.

“Yeol!”

Chanyeol pulled Baekhyun through a walk-in pantry piled high with produce. He walked past the bins of fruit and vegetables and took out of ring of keys attached to his belt. Then, he fumbled through them and found one, shoving it into a trapdoor beneath a fruit bin and twisting it. The trapdoor unlocked with a click.

“Yeol, please!” Baekhyun’s voice was cracking and he felt his lower lip tremble.

“This is a shelter,” Chanyeol explained. “Go under the trapdoor and down the stairs. There’s a room, with food and weapons. Get a sword, make it as long as possible so there’s no direct combat if they manage to find it. If the worst comes to it, there’s a door in the back. Open it and go up the stairs, it’s a way out of the palace. Your father is already there.”

“Yeol, answer my question!” Baekhyun cried. Tears were beginning to spill down his cheeks as he fell to his knees to match Chanyeol’s height as the younger was kneeling to unlock the trapdoor.

“I’m going back in there.”

“No!”

“Baek, I have to,” Chanyeol explained. He took either side of Baekhyun’s head in both his hands to force the prince to look at him. “It’s my duty.”

“No, no, you can’t!” Baekhyun cried, holding onto Chanyeol’s wrists to keep him with him. “As prince, I forbid it!”

“I’m sorry, Baek,” Chanyeol said. A single tear fell from his eye. “It’s my job. I must protect you. You’re my first priority, Baek.”

“No, no, don’t go, Yeol!” Baekhyun cried.

Chanyeol leaned forward so their foreheads were touching. “Baek, do you remember last year, when I was gonna tell you something but then decided not to?” He wiped Baekhyun’s tears under one eye with his thumb.

“No, Yeol, stop! You have to stay, so you can tell me later!”

“I love you, Baek,” Chanyeol choked. “I love you so much.”

Baekhyun sobbed. “I love you too. Now that we’ve said that, you have to stay! Stay with me, don’t go!”

“I’m sorry, Baek,” Chanyeol said again. He cleared Baekhyun’s eyes of tears once more. “I have to go.”

“No! No, no!” Baekhyun cried. He wrapped his arms around Chanyeol, sobbing into his chest. “Please don’t go!”

“Shh. Don’t worry, Baek. I won’t be gone long.” Chanyeol hugged Baekhyun tightly and then, slowly pulled away. He leaned forward and kissed Baekhyun’s forehead tenderly. “I love you. I’m glad you got to know that, at least.”

Then, he stood up and started running out of the pantry.

“Chanyeol, no!” Baekhyun screamed, but it was to no avail. Chanyeol was gone.

Baekhyun tearfully made his way down the stairs after concealing the trapdoor with the fruit bin and closing it tightly. The room was small—one bed, another bin of fruit, and a small chest in the corner, and the door Chanyeol described in the back. It was dim, illuminated only by a few torches on the wall.

“Baekhyun!” the king said. “The royal family is safe, what a relief.” He didn’t even hug him.

“He’s gone. . .” Baekhyun mumbled between sobs as he fell to his knees at the foot of the stairs. “He’s. . .”

“He’s a major general now, Baekhyun,” the king interrupted harshly. “It is his sworn duty to protect the royal family. You have to let him go.”

“Bullshit!” Baekhyun snapped and his father paused. Nobody ever said such words to the king, especially not his son. “Do you have the faintest idea how much he means to me?! How he was the one I wanted to speak to, not you?! You hit me when you wanted me to talk! Did it ever cross your mind, even once, that I relied on him more than you?! How can you say such words, when he was the one who made me who I am today?!”

“Maybe that explains why you’re such a disappointing son.”

“Because I never had a fucking father figure, that’s why!” Baekhyun retorted venomously. He walked over to the bed and collapsed on it, rolling over so he would face away from his father.

“You’re only half-royal,” Byun snarled. “Must be why you’re acting so rash. I would remember my place if I was you. Remember who you are.”

“Biologically, I’m yours,” Baekhyun reminded him angrily. “Wouldn’t it be a sight to see if you could introduce me to my true mother? And not hide behind the façade of my false illness. I wonder how I would react to her. Tell me Father, would I like her? Or is she as rash as me? Ah. . . what if I met my fake mother? The dead one, is that correct?”

“Don’t say such words.”

“Would the late queen be proud of how you raised me?” Baekhyun continued, still facing away from his father. “Would she think I would make a fitting king?”

“Shut up this instant, Baekhyun. Perhaps you’d like to die right now, and I could lie to the people. Say you were a casualty of war.”

“Oh, lie to them again? That’s very noble of you, Father. Threaten your son. You don’t scare me.”

“And why is that?”

Baekhyun heard the chest open and heard his father take out something that sounded like metal. He did not bat an eye. “You would not kill me. You would have no heir. Even if you were able to take in another servant girl and produce another heir, you would not last to see him take your throne. Gujoja would be in shambles, and you know that. Children cannot rule a kingdom.”

“I might have people raise him after I pass.”

“And that leaves who to rule Gujoja? Your corpse? Mine, perhaps, complete with the wounds you fatally gave me here?” Baekhyun challenged, knowing he’d won the argument. “Father, I suggest we stay down here in silence, so no one loses their head. It would be for the best.”

Byun didn’t respond after this and Baekhyun confirmed his win and mentally checked it off. They were down there for a few more hours. They heard nothing, saw nothing. No Tianshang soldiers found it, but then again, no Gujoja soldiers contacted them. They sat in quiet wait, Baekhyun praying endlessly for Chanyeol.

Just then, there was a knock on the trapdoor above.

Baekhyun sat up on the bed. It had caught the attention of his father too, who was now standing up, looking up at the stairs. Another knock.

“King Byun, it is General Park of the Gujoja Army. It is safe to come out.”

At the mention of Park, Baekhyun scrambled out of the bed, rushing to the door and pushing it open. There were a few soldiers surrounding the trapdoor, and General Park, Chanyeol’s father, whom Baekhyun had not seen for quite some time. Baekhyun looked around desperately for Chanyeol, but he was not there.

Panic bloomed in his stomach.

“Your Highness, I need to help you out now,” the general said gently. “Are you alright?”

Baekhyun gave a stiff nod, but his eyes kept searching the crowd of soldiers for one face that he knew he was not going to see.

The general pulled him gently out and Baekhyun sat there on all fours. He ran his fingers through his hair and stood up, pushing through them rather rudely. He turned back to General Park with tear-stricken eyes.

“Where is Chanyeol?!”

“In the infirmary, Your Highness,” one of the soldiers answered blankly, as General Park pulled the king out from the trapdoor.

“He’s not. . .” Baekhyun began and his stomach turned.

“Dead, no, he’s not,” the soldier responded. “He has been injured in the fighting. He will make it, Your Highness.”

“Thank you, thank you!” Baekhyun cried before breaking into a sprint down the hallway.

He didn’t care that he almost slipped, or that he crashed against the wall and dirtied his formal prince’s jacket. He barely knew where the infirmary was—he’d only been there a few times as a child. He let his intuition take control, trying to navigate through the mazelike palace walls. In some places, there were splotches of blood, a reminder of what had happened. Although they made Baekhyun feel sick but he kept running. He was so close.

The infirmary was a large room, filled to the brim with injured Gujoja soldiers. The royal doctors and nurses darted to and fro, searching for medicines, each other, or other soldiers. It looked like organized chaos.

Baekhyun paced throughout the room, eyes falling on each and every soldier, and when he didn’t find the one he wanted, he raced up to a doctor.

“Doctor, where is Major Park Chanyeol? Is he here?”

The doctor bowed out of respect. “I can lead you to his room if you desire.”

“Please,” Baekhyun begged and he followed the doctor into a private room in the back.

“He may be asleep, Your Highness,” the doctor explained as he opened the door.

The room was dimly lit, with the small window closed by blue curtains. And there, in the bed, was Chanyeol, sleeping soundly. There was a gauze pad on his cheek and a bandage on his forehead, and the other injuries must’ve been concealed by the sheets. Baekhyun wondered if he should wake him, but decided to let him sleep. It looked like he had fought hard, and Baekhyun concluded that he should rest for as long as he needed.

Baekhyun closed the door behind him quietly and sat in a chair next to Chanyeol’s bed. He sat in meaningless thought before feeling his eyes close slightly. Just as he was about to succumb to sleep, he felt Chanyeol stir next to him.

“Buh—Baek?”

Baekhyun’s eyes opened wide. “Yeol!” He threw his arms around the younger and buried his face in his shoulder. “You’re okay. . . oh God, you’re really okay.”

“Ow, Baek!” Chanyeol exclaimed and Baekhyun almost pulled away. . . and he would’ve, if Chanyeol hadn’t pulled him back and hugged him tightly. “Yes, I’m really okay.”

Baekhyun sighed contently and he felt much more at ease. He kept his arms around Chanyeol tightly, this time truly not letting go. “Yeol, what happened to bring you in here? I mean, you’re not sitting in this private room because you scratched up your pretty face.”

Chanyeol chuckled. “I think that’s a compliment.” He pulled aside the sheets, cringing at the pain and Baekhyun saw it.

His right pant leg was torn off, and there was gauze wrap from the top of his thigh to his upper knee.

“Oh my God, Yeol. . .”

“Don’t apologize,” Chanyeol said. “I know what you’re about to do. And it was. . . just a sword. I’m okay now, and that’s what matters, right?”

“Right,” Baekhyun said assertively. “Yeol. . . about what I said before, when you were leaving—it wasn’t spur-of the moment.”

Chanyeol’s eyes widened.

“It was true, Yeol, every word. I do love you, and I have for a very long time.”

Chanyeol reached out to cup Baekhyun’s cheek tenderly. “I love you, too.”

“I’m so glad you made it,” Baekhyun said, reaching a hand up to touch Chanyeol’s on his cheek. “I would’ve been broken if you’d died.”

“Baek. . .” Chanyeol murmured. Baekhyun leaned forward, feeling his eyes flutter shut on impulse. Chanyeol’s other hand found the side of Baekhyun’s neck, tilting his jaw upward and Baekhyun felt his heart leap out of his chest. His lips touched Chanyeol’s and it was the greatest feeling—Chanyeol’s lips were soft and beautiful, and he tasted sweet, like chocolate (Baekhyun figured it was the medicine).

They pulled apart for a split second and giggled—and then kissed again. Baekhyun felt like he could kiss Chanyeol all day.

“Yeol,” Baekhyun murmured when they broke apart. “I never actually thought that would happen.”

“And now that it has?”

Baekhyun’s eyes softened. “I’m glad it did.”

Healing was a process, as Baekhyun would find. It was weeks after the battle when Chanyeol was finally able to walk on his own, and sometimes, he still leaned on Baekhyun and stumbled.

Baekhyun had rarely spoken to his father since their argument. He didn’t care for the king anymore, and now that Tianshang had proven themselves to be untrustworthy, Gujoja had unofficially officially closed their borders to prospective princesses for Baekhyun to marry.

--

Baekhyun was eighteen. And he was nervous.

His father was stepping down. A new king would take the throne. Without a wife. And that king was Baekhyun. Today was the fated coronation day—it would take place in a chapel just beyond the palace walls. Since Baekhyun didn’t have a wife, his father would place the king’s crown atop his head, even though ceremonially, it should be the wife. The attendees would be wealthy nobles and families living in the palace Baekhyun had never met. After, he was to ride through the city and greet his new subjects.

Minyoung had already styled his hair and his face had been retouched lightly. His formal jacket was unwrinkled, sitting on his bed ready to be worn, and crown on a pillow on his desk. He was staring at his reflection in the mirror, hoping he would look presentable. Baekhyun didn’t touch the crown. He would be receiving a new crown today—the same one his father had worn.

Baekhyun still spoke to his father, but only when necessary, like when he was younger. The argument on his sixteenth birthday had drove a permanent wedge between them, but Baekhyun wasn’t about to complain. He was never close to his father before, and this only gave him an excuse to be further away.

“Baek!”

The door opened suddenly, and in walked an already-dressed Park Chanyeol. Now, he was titled as Lieutenant General Park, just one step away from being General of the Gujoja Army. He was still seventeen—he would take control once he turned eighteen. He was dressed handsomely, in his glistening army blazer with all the badges he’d received. His hair was long and black now—just above his shoulders. It was styled in the middle, so his bangs just dusted across his forehead. His body was also different—he was now much taller than Baekhyun, with a toned, muscular torso and legs that shown despite being covered entirely by expensive, tailored clothing.

That wasn’t the only change—Chanyeol had a limp. He didn’t need a cane or anything, but ever since that battle on Baekhyun’s sixteenth birthday, he’d had a noticeable limp. He liked to joke and say he was lame, but that would always earn him a playful smack from Baekhyun and a scolding (“at least you’re not in your grave now!”).

Chanyeol limped forward and wrapped his arms around Baekhyun and Baekhyun laughed.

“Yeol!” he protested, but Chanyeol was whispering words of encouragement to Baekhyun about how proud he was and whatnot that Baekhyun couldn’t help but smile and blush.

Baekhyun was in love with Chanyeol and vice versa. After that day when they kissed in the infirmary, they were a bit confused—not knowing what to do about their feelings. Baekhyun knew he could never ever tell his father and Chanyeol wouldn’t be able to tell his father either. So they settled on a more secret love affair—they would sneak out of their rooms after curfew and spend the night curled up in each other’s arms. They would kiss only when absolutely sure they were in private, but had never gone further than an intimate kiss session. Baekhyun’s father, suspicious of their “friendship”, had kept a close eye on them, but Baekhyun was smart. He knew when to kiss Chanyeol, when to lace his fingers in the younger’s, when to fall asleep tangled up in him.

“I’m so proud of you, Baek,” Chanyeol praised as he limped back over and shut the door. “You’re about to be king!”

Baekhyun’s eyes fell to the floor. “Yeah.”

Chanyeol frowned and crossed the room over to him and stood in front of him. He took Baekhyun’s chin in his thumb and forefinger and tilted it upward to Baekhyun would make eye contact with him. “What’s wrong, Baek?”

“I just. . . I’m nervous, Yeol.” Baekhyun pushed Chanyeol’s hand away. “Have you really thought about this? In my point of view, I mean.”

Chanyeol thought for a moment. “In a way, I suppose.”

“You understand, Yeol, that I’m taking the throne as a single king without a queen? This means Gujoja has no royal heir and no way to continue the dynasty. Unless I find some way to produce an heir, the Byun Dynasty will end in a bloody civil war.” Baekhyun took both of Chanyeol’s hands in his, looking up at him with fearful eyes.

Chanyeol gave a slow nod. It was clear that he hadn’t ever considered this before. “And. . . you’re not planning on taking a wife?”

“Why would I need a wife when I have you, Yeol?” Baekhyun asked as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Not even for show?” Chanyeol prompted, raising an eyebrow. “Mark my words, ninety percent of royal marriages aren’t for love. They’re for the kingdom. Whether you marry or not, Baek, I’ll still love you. Don’t forget that.”

Baekhyun nodded and Chanyeol pulled him in for a close hug.

“Don’t forget that,” he repeated and Baekhyun pulled apart from him and then kissed him softly.

“I won’t,” he assured.

--

Baekhyun’s coronation was a blur. He barely remembered receiving the crown and hid his face in shame as he paraded through town. He didn’t want to look at his poor subjects, his cheeks burned when he met their eyes. They clapped, nonetheless, and cheered and threw white roses—the symbolic flower of Gujoja. Baekhyun didn’t know if it was feigned or not, but he decided not to think too hard about it—it would only damage his pride.

The only comforting thing about the whole affair was the fact that Chanyeol was riding on one of the horses behind him—next to his father. Byun being in attendance during the parade didn’t exactly console Baekhyun, but he did find solace in the idea that Chanyeol was right behind him, supporting him every step of the way.

There was also a ball in the evening, one that Baekhyun was expected to attend. This ball would be similar to the one Baekhyun had been to on his fifteenth birthday—international and high-class. The kings, queens, and nobles of any and ever kingdom would be in attendance, hoping to meet Baekhyun, newly appointed king of Gujoja.

Baekhyun sat on his bed, heart racing as he prepared himself for the ball. He didn’t want to screw up—this ball would be different than the one when he was fifteen in the way that everyone would want to meet him. He would be thrown straight into the wolves without a weapon. He wasn’t sure if Chanyeol was already at the ball and he wished he wasn’t—he needed his arms around him and comforting, encouraging words being whispered lightly in his ear.

He didn’t want to formally call Chanyeol to his room, because he didn’t want to bother the general. However, that didn’t stop him from wishing he was here with him.

“Baek.”

Maybe the universe really did take pity on Baekhyun, because at that moment, Chanyeol limped through the door.

Baekhyun’s head perked up and he felt himself relax slightly on impulse. “Oh Yeol. . . I thought you wouldn’t come.”

Chanyeol frowned. “I felt like you’d be a bit uneasy, of course I’d come to support you. It looks like you’re ready. . . when do you plan on going?”

“Never.”

“Baek. . .”

“Yeol, I’m serious,” Baekhyun argued. “What would happen if I left? Right now, and took you with me. We could live in the countryside, and avoid the Gujoja citizens. You know how to hunt, right? And I can—”

Chanyeol limped forward and placed his hands on Baekhyun’s shoulders, effectively shutting him up. “Baek, you know that’s not an option. It’s just one ball. You’ll meet the rulers of other kingdoms and you might also make a friend in some of them. The king of Cheongug is very charismatic, I hear.”

“Jongin?” Baekhyun asked quietly.

Chanyeol shook his head. “He’s still the prince, isn’t he? I meant the king.”

“Jongin must take after his father,” Baekhyun mused.

“But Baek, the kings will all have one big question for you—how are you planning to produce an heir? Do you plan to marry?”

“No,” Baekhyun said. “I have you.”

“You can’t tell them that,” Chanyeol said with a laugh. “And Baek, you’re going to need an heir. You might have to marry.”

“I don’t want to,” Baekhyun said. “Even if you weren’t. . . with me, I still wouldn’t want to marry. I don’t want to be involved with a pampered princess who can’t take care of herself.”

“You don’t know that, Baek,” Chanyeol replied.

Baekhyun pushed away from him and sat on the bed, giving a huff. “I do. Every princess on this side of the world is either too far up themselves or too young. I don’t want them. I want you.”

Chanyeol smiled a little, showing the dimple on one of his cheeks. “I want you too Baek, but it just can’t happen. You need an heir for the kingdom to go on, and to continue the dynasty you are directly a part of.”

Baekhyun frowned and looked up at him. Then he sighed and laced his fingers in Chanyeol’s. “What if the kingdom were to find out about us? What would they do, I wonder?”

“No, Baek, you can’t tell them,” Chanyeol said, shaking his head. “This heir thing. . . it’s not a choice, really. You need an heir and that’s just all there is to it. There is no alternative.”

“Okay,” Baekhyun started, standing up but not letting go of Chanyeol’s hand. “Okay, I hear you. I’ll. . . I’ll come up with something. I’ll give Gujoja an heir.”

“Honestly?” Chanyeol asked, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

Baekhyun nodded. “Honestly.”

--

Baekhyun was twenty-three when an heir to the Gujoja throne was finally born. He had been married three years to a woman from the kingdom of Kyuseishu called Akane. She was nice. . . nice enough. She wasn’t annoying. But she was pampered and obsessive over her appearance—something that turned Baekhyun off from the getgo. Chanyeol had introduced the two—after all, he was the one who’d made an ally out of Kyuseishu. He got in contact with their kingdom and told them of his idea—Baekhyun, his best friend, was two years into being king and didn’t have a wife, nor any way to have an heir. So the duke, eager to have a more solid friendship between the two kingdoms, sent over one of his daughters to marry Baekhyun and become queen of Gujoja. Baekhyun wondered if he should’ve been presented to all the daughters so he could choose the one with the best personality. He hated Akane’s personality.

They named their son Yeolmae. Akane hated the name, saying it was too feminine, but Baekhyun insisted. He said the name would be powerful and, in the end, no one would care if it was traditionally masculine or feminine.

Baekhyun then went to Chanyeol’s office, when Yeolmae was still a baby, walking in without knocking and holding him in his arms to display the child proudly.

“Look at my son, Yeol! Isn’t he beautiful?”

Gasping, Chanyeol, who was now the general of the army having taken up his father’s position after he turned eighteen, limped over from his desk. “Oh Baek, he’s beautiful! What’s his name?”

“Yeolmae.”

Chanyeol’s eyes went wide and his hand, going in to gently touch the baby, stopped moving. “Baek, how did you come up with that name?”

“It’s after you,” Baekhyun explained as though it should be obvious.

“You. . . you named your son after me?”

The king nodded.

Chanyeol ran his fingers through his hair and touched the thin hair growing on Yeolmae’s head. “That’s. . . I feel so honored, I don’t even have words. . .”

“Don’t say anything then,” Baekhyun said. He glanced to the doorway, making sure no one was watching them, or would accidentally see them upon walking by. “Just kiss me.”

And Chanyeol did just that.