Chapter Text
Once the Prime Minister was imprisoned, victory was quick.
Hansol told him even before word was spread, bright-faced and disguised.
“You saved the empire off of sheer speculation,” he laughed, smile visible even in the dim light of the stablehouse.
Seungcheol was so relieved, he couldn’t even complain about the stench. “It was you. All it ever would have been was sheer speculation if you hadn't figured it out. By all means, you are the future of this empire.”
“Your highness!”
The call came from beyond the bolted door.
“Oh no, we’ve lost the Crown Prince.”
“Keep looking!”
They shared a glance.
Seungcheol tutted disapprovingly. “You must stop sneaking away, though. You give your guards so much stress, and elevated stress may lead to-”
“Okay, hyung .”
~
That day, he woke up early, or perhaps hadn’t slept at all. His robes had been cleaned and laid across his bed. Nary a wrinkle, he’d made sure of it.
“Perfect,” he whispered, pushing his hair out of his face and tying it at the back with a thin ribbon. All a perfect facade of control; he could almost dance with excitement.
The army came back with fanfare.
Seungcheol and the rest of the healers were supposed to gather on one side of the gate, greeting the returning soldiers. He quickly found that no one was really adhering to their commands. Healers, cooks, maids, and ministers alike were scattered amongst each other with excitement.
The day itself was as sunny as winter permitted. Skies white as snow, clouds indiscernible from the heavens, and the trail muddy with melted slush. He climbed onto a hill near the gates, a head above everyone else, and waited giddily.
There they were, all of a sudden, rounding the bend in the road and appearing in the distance like legends of old.
At the head of the procession rode the army general, flag clasped in calloused hand. There was no morning fog this time. Seungcheol drank in the sight of the dynasty emblem on red silk, and for the first time felt a warm flush spreading across his chest. Something patriotic, something proud.
Everyone else must have felt it too, the burning sensation of victory, we have won, the enemy is dead —the roar was deafening.
Then, everything was a blur. Cavalrymen passed, high on their horses, and then the infantry, chins tilted up. Rippling tides of red and brown armor, horses unalarmed and thriving in the attention, a thousand hands reaching out to touch.
He waited.
And waited.
It occurred to him, all of a sudden, that he still didn’t know what legion Mingyu belonged to. One through five? Six through nine?? Eleven, or twelve, or thirteen?
Then, the other blistering thought. If he didn’t see Mingyu, then that would mean-
Would it mean-
No, no, it couldn’t be. The ninth had just passed through the entrance, which meant that Mingyu’s legion had been sent to reclaim lost territory. But wasn’t that the most dangerous task among them all?
He gripped onto the red gate for support, and kept squinting against the brightness of the east. Everyone was still screaming. He was screaming too, from the inside, dread leaching into his bloodstream with every pump of his heart.
Then, catharsis.
A black horse was trotting uneasily, out of formation just enough to catch his gaze. And then, Mingyu. Just Mingyu.
Alive, breathing, blood still pumping from beating heart to radiant face. Scrunched face. He seemed to be searching.
Seungcheol wanted to jump forward, through the crowd, rush into the roads and halt the entire procession. “Gyu! Mingyu!” he called, but it must have been lost somewhere in the cacophony.
Somehow, Mingyu filtered the other voices out and found it.
Their eyes met. The roar was dull, the excitement blurred, every other person irrelevant.
Mingyu’s face (emperors, his heavenly face) lit up, life seeping into the statue of a god. He was smiling, an easy, unwavering smile. It was effortless and perfect, like nothing Seungcheol had ever seen before.
That smile.
They had both found peace. They were both free from the chains of the past. Free.
He turned and almost fell off the hill in his haste to reach the fields.
~
When he hugged Mingyu, he lifted him by the waist and swung him around for a single, gleeful second. It was warm. It was touch . He hadn't embraced him for what felt like years.
It had been weeks that he was on the battlefield. Seungcheol expected him to smell like mud and blood and death, but somehow the apple blossoms had clung to Mingyu when they didn’t even stick with their trees past autumn.
Mingyu’s laughter was nectar in his ears, enough to make him breathless, a huff escaping his lips as he was set down. And even then, they both hung on to each other. Rough uniforms under calloused fingers, familiar scents breathed in like oxygen for the lungs.
It didn’t need to be said, but Mingyu said it anyway, because Mingyu liked burning his feelings into your mind until they stuck.
“I missed you.”
Seungcheol pulled away. The melting snow was uneven under his feet, and underneath the grass somehow green. Somehow green, and Mingyu was looking at him expectantly, high head blocking out the sun in the sky.
So even though he normally might not have, he said it too.
“I missed you too.”
~
“So, yeah. We were near the sea, and the enemy soldiers were trying to burn all the buildings as they retreated—made it harder for us to hide in the wreckage—and I thought I saw some children still hiding in one of the higher houses.”
Mingyu made a wild expression, eyes wide and hands gesturing. “I don’t know what possessed me to do it. Maybe I had some traumatic flashbacks. We were supposed to be performing a covert approach, launching a surprise attack. Which, I think they might have already seen us because of the bright red armor, so what was the point anymore?”
“So I broke ranks, rushed forward, and grabbed the torch. Somehow I subdued him, lit my blade on fire, and chased the rest off with my flaming sword. My commander was furious , but I think somewhere in the middle he realized that there was no other way we might have coerced them into retreating.”
He cleared his throat.
“Hence the horse. The other legions think I’m some sort of deluded, courageous war hero. I don’t know, I just felt so much better when we extracted the children. When I went into war, I felt sick at the idea of killing anyone . But knowing that they were willing to subject even innocent infants to such a terrible death? I didn’t feel as bad about it anymore.”
Mingyu sniffled before pulling his arms back in and glancing down. “Yes. Well, that is what I have done for four weeks.”
Seungcheol knew he was awaiting praise. He would, by all means, congratulate him for single-handedly saving the empire. However, at the moment, all he could muster was a strangled—
“Great. Why are you sitting in my lap?”
Mingyu’s eyes dulled with confusion. “Well, you said you wanted to heal the scrape on my clavicle. So I thought it might be easier if you could see it closely.”
It was true. Seungcheol had said that. He just hadn't been prepared for the consequences of his words. “Ah. Yes. Well, it’s healed now. Just make sure that you rest.”
Understanding, like winter receding from the valley. “Aw, are you flustered hyung?” Mingyu cackled, excitement rushing through his face. He drew himself up, lips thinning into a statuesque line. “I suppose I am so otherworldly that-”
“N-No. It’s not that,” Seungcheol scoffed, pushing Mingyu’s shoulders except he refused to budge. “It’s healed now anyway, so you can get off me.”
Hair brushing against his neck, shoulders jabbing petulantly into his face. Mingyu pushed into his space and his heart. “Never! You’re too comfortable. I’ve just returned from one month of battle, so as my hyung, you are obligated to carry me.”
Seungcheol sighed through his nose, not nearly as insulted by the idea as he pretended to be. With a grunt, he managed to steady them both so he could stand up.
The world spun, orange evening light filtering through the highlights of Mingyu’s hair. “Don’t fall. I’m carrying you to the courtyard, and no more.”
~
Everyone seemed either too inebriated or too exhausted to notice the healer with the giant war hero on his back.
He ended up carrying Mingyu half the way to his hut before in a strangely small voice, he asked to be let down.
“What is it?” Seungcheol asked, even before Mingyu’s feet had touched the ground. He stuck out a hand, but it wasn’t taken.
Mingyu’s eyes were shifting. “I’ll understand if you’ve forgotten hyung,” he said finally, voice heavy but steady. “But you must tell me. Please tell me.”
Seungcheol rubbed his eyebrow, perplexed. “Forgotten what?”
Mingyu’s lips parted, and then he seemed to gain some semblance of exasperation.
“You know! When you looked me in the eyes and told me that the only reason you weren’t courting me was because you knew nothing about me? Well, now you know everything about me, and I know everything about you.”
“I had to come and find you , before embarking on a journey which could have claimed my life! I have been waiting for ages, and you have no more excuses, so just tell me right now-”
He received a well-deserved smack to the shoulder. Then another one, just to cement the sting. Nobody was outside, else Seungcheol might have been heckled for assaulting the empire’s hero.
He wouldn’t have cared.
“You would like me to tell you right now? I will. I like you. Very, very much, and it has been terrifying for the past month waiting for you to come back. Knowing that the last thing we did together was cry, that the last sensation you felt around me was pain.”
Mingyu’s face was pulled into a rosy mess of confusion—which was good. Let him be a mess. Seungcheol was done with all of this.
“You didn’t even come to me when you were injured, forget lunch together. I thought you didn’t want to see me anymore. I thought that I had crossed too many boundaries, and broken our relationship beyond repair. Yes, I was being stubborn. Yes, I was being stupid. Yes, I absolutely want to court you, more than anything in the world.”
He took a deep breath to clear away the haze. “I admit my fault. I should have spoken earlier. I shouldn't have hesitated so much, but I was afraid of hurting you.” A pause. “Hurting myself.”
Cold, cold wind whistled around his neck. Seungcheol sniffled and waited.
“You want to court me more than anything in the world?” Mingyu repeated stiffly.
He squeezed his eyes shut. “Did you know that courtship isn’t something I can just declare or ask? I can’t tell you I plan to court you. To start the process, I must give you a gift.”
Cricket trills filled the silence, a throbbing reminder of the waning day.
Mingyu smiled sheepishly. “Oh, really? I didn’t-I didn’t know that.” He scratched his neck, a little pitiful with the way his shoulders slumped over. “All the stories must skip that part.”
Finally the ridiculousness of it all sank in.
He sighed, decided that it wasn’t worth feeling superior about, not when Mingyu’s entire being was screaming discomfort. Seungcheol might do anything to make him smile again, to scrub the shame from his face.
“I didn’t know either,” he admitted. “When I realized that I wanted to start courting you, I found a scroll about it in the scholars’ hanok.”
Oh, Mingyu was still looking at him mopily through his lashes, but the embarrassed flush had receded just slightly.
“We didn’t have anyone to teach us these things, did we?” Seungcheol realized, and suddenly felt like a floating piece of silk.
No one. They had no one but each other.
The past he had always resented somehow connected him to the man he loved. They were leaves from different trees, caught in a dizzying fall together and landing in the same pile. Marred with hurt, and somehow they healed with each other.
Relief seemed to hit Mingyu too, the way his lips began to tug upwards. Seungcheol watched him pull himself to his full height, and it was like some great tapestry being unfolded in all its splendor.
“Well then, I’m glad we’ve found each other,” he said, taking a long step forward. “We can learn these things together.”
A warmth bursting in his chest, Seungcheol thrust his hand out again. It was grasped, fingers curling into the gaps between. “But we are not always required to follow the rules. So Kim Mingyu, may I court you?”
If all of the deities of heaven and earth tried to look away from Mingyu’s smile, they couldn’t have, but it was too bad for them because Seungcheol had him first .
“I suppose you may.”
~
(Courtship Gifts for Gyu: Ribbons for hair. New sash for sword because his current one is ripping. Small vial of salve, to carry in his robes in case he is injured and can’t visit me. Flowers, but not dragon lilies because they give him rashes, even if he pretends he’s fine.
Tasks: Which palace cook makes meat buns? Find out if they accept bribes.
Possible Future Gifts: Kiss, if accepted.)
~
The scholars seemed much more lively this time around, when he went to return A Hopeless Lover’s Guide to Courtship . Some waved at him, some glared, but Seungcheol didn’t feel half as insulted as he slid the scroll between the gap in the shelves.
Then the same parchment fluttered out. An Honorable Archive of the Lineage of the Holy Emperor. Disdainfully, the words stared at him. Are you loyal to our emperor or not?
“Oh alright,” he huffed, leaning on the shelf as he unrolled the paper.
There was the Holy Emperor, and the late empress. Then the current queen, and her two sons. He smiled at the veiled likeness of Hansol before his eyes drifted back.
The smile froze.
Wait. This was wrong.
“Holy emperors.”
Because under the emperor and his first wife, a line led to the portrait of another veiled man. The eldest prince.
Still alive.
~
Perplexed, he found Mingyu happily pruning the dragon flower shrub in his garden.
One step closer, feet scraping against fresh spring grass, and Mingyu looked up. “You look traumatized,” he observed drily, tucking the shears under his arm to pull something out from his robes. “Look, I made you something.”
Seungcheol accepted the container, tugged off the lid and peered inside.
Steamed fish floating in a brown broth, carefully cut into little pieces. I never see you with any decent side dishes.
He chewed the inside of his cheek as he looked up. Thank you , or maybe You made this for me? but instead he said, “You aren’t required to give me anything though. I’m supposed to be courting you .”
Mingyu huffed. “Well, that’s hardly any fun. I’ve told you this before, hyung. You’ve taken care of so many others, you’ve taken care of me, all while suffering through your own terrible cooking. You deserve to have someone to lean on too.”
It was like there was a feather through his throat, strangling him. You deserve to lean on someone too . No one had ever told him that before, and he wasn’t quite sure which deity of heaven he needed to thank for Mingyu.
Mingyu, who then proceeded to ruin the entire moment. “And how do you plan to court me if you die of food poisoning? It was my understanding that you were the healer between us, and I’m not about to let you just die without properly romancing me.”
Seungcheol’s impending rebuttal was cut off by a sharp hiss. Mingyu recoiled from a bush, clutching his finger.
A bead of red bubbled at the tip. “Owie.”
Mingyu winced, then tottered closer, eyes fixed on the blood as he waved his wound around like a child.
Seungcheol fixated on it too, grasping his hand and tugging it closer. “Ah, dear, what were you thinking?”
He didn’t pause to hear the answer, ripping a strip of his own sleeve off to wrap around the gash before it could get too serious. “Really, I don’t understand. How did you even manage to enlist in the army without hurting yourself?”
“Oh I never had to enlist.”
It was good that the thorn didn’t drag too much, or else-
Wait. What?
When he looked up, Mingyu’s eyes were equally as wide.
“Everyone has to enlist if they wish to join the army Gyu,” Seungcheol began carefully.
Mingyu’s lips sealed together. “That-that doesn’t matter.” He shoved the bandaged finger in his face. “You must kiss it to make it better.”
There was something he was missing here. Ah well. He’d think about it later, when there weren’t such pressing matters.
Seungcheol gave it a tender peck.
Slowly, a little disappointedly, Mingyu pulled his hand back and stared at it. “Well…” he trailed off, a scowl forming across his mouth. “I don’t feel much better. Kiss me instead.”
He almost— almost— complied. Then he caught himself, just as Mingyu’s lips pursed expectantly. “I can’t kiss you until you accept the courtship,” Seungcheol cited dutifully, jerking back. “I would be corrupting my beloved, or whatever it said.”
Mingyu threw his arms into the air and groaned, eyes squinting shut with exasperation. “Oh alright. I accept it! I accept all of it! What must a Royal Guard do to receive a kiss-”
Seungcheol reached up and grasped the back of his neck with a splayed palm. When they kissed, his fingers drowned in long threads of hair.
Impossibly, Mingyu hunched closer. He moved to stand at the very tips of his shoes, and then—it was perfect. Somehow, the scent of apple blossoms which had yet to unfurl on their trees. Somehow, the perfect breeze and the sweet remnants of winter sticking to their lips.
They pulled back at the same time.
A shriek, shrill and piercing, to shatter the moment for both of them.
Mingyu’s eyes fixed on something beyond Seungcheol’s shoulder. His lips (very kissable, just confirmed) parted slightly. “Hyung! That’s the maid-”
He’d heard enough. Surely the fates themselves had convened to put these events in place for him.
Seungcheol swung his head around and gave the poor lady the most ridiculous wink he could muster.
Triumph.
She scampered away like a startled squirrel, no doubt to spread the word. Uncaring, they both melted into giggles.
Joy, clinging to every beat of his heart and every bead of his blood. Joy, in every wheezy breath of air he managed.
His stomach hurt and his jaw ached, but he hoped to never find a remedy for either of them. Just Mingyu, wrapped around his arm, laughing into his ears, forehead pressed against his temple.
And just like that, it was spring.
~
It happened in his small hut.
The confession was breathless, and perhaps fearless too. “I’m a prince.”
Seungcheol smiled. “I know, Gyu-yah.”
Mingyu sputtered for a good few seconds before smacking Seungcheol’s arm. “Well, why didn’t you tell me that earlier?”
He leaned back on his bed and adjusted the pillow. “I trusted you to tell me, if you felt it was important.”
“Oh.” The candle flickered and shifted the shadows. “I wasn’t lying about the orphanage, you know.”
“I know, Gyu,” Seungcheol repeated, with equal honesty. “I trust you. You don’t need to clarify anything.”
Mingyu exhaled, and it was as if someone had taken the sky’s weight off his shoulders. “I’ll explain anyway. When I was born, I was very sickly. It wasn’t a good omen, and the court wasn’t likely to accept me as Crown Prince, so my father ordered my mother’s maid to take me away to the nearest orphanage.”
“When there was no official presentation of the infant, everyone simply assumed I had died. ”
“After the uprisings, he found me again. I told him right then that I never wished to be emperor, and was no threat to Hansol or Chan. From then on, the palace cooks raised me until I was of age and could be slipped into the army.”
“We never talk. He may care for me in some form, but I think that to him, his son is still dead.” He scratched his ear and didn’t seem too devastated by it. “So you see, the monarchy has never been prevalent in my life. I even forget about my lineage sometimes.”
Seungcheol nudged Mingyu until his head was resting comfortably on his shoulder. “Okay. Thank you for telling me.”
“I don’t resent it, not being Crown Prince,” came the soft voice, muffled in his arm. “There are too many repercussions for the smallest of missteps. To be an emperor is to be that candle, which controls such huge shadows with such minimal flickers.”
As if hearing its name called, the flame quivered again. Seungcheol watched it for a second longer, marveling at the blurred warmth on his walls. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you could do anything you wish to. Prince or soldier or artist. You’re worth just as much without a title as with one.”
He could feel the smile growing against his skin, and suddenly Mingyu was up and kissing him. Pulling back for breath, and then in again.
“I love you,” whispered somewhere in between.
“I love you too,” amidst the candle burning in his heart, heat setting into his skin, and the rustling silk around him.
The hut was big enough for the both of them.
~
In the early mornings, the healers’ quarters were never too busy.
Which was why Mingyu always visited him then.
To pick flowers or sort scrolls or lay on the floors and sit in silence. It hardly mattered, as long as they were doing it together.
Somewhere between each other’s bruises, they had managed to bloom. Two flowers with entangled roots, one unable to survive without the other.
Apple blossom tea cooling on the tray. The sun’s warm breath on his skin, branch-shaped shadows weaving through the room. Mingyu hugging a cushion and snoring softly against his shoulder.
It was a new dawn, fresh pink suffused among cloudless skies. Seventeen years, and the healers’ gardens were bursting with life.
And they were there, living. Just living.