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Chapter Text

The palace of Aruna was beautiful.

Soaring ceilings, even higher than the one in Seonghwa’s bedroom. Thick, hand-woven rugs running through every hallway. Gold-trimmed tapestries on the wide walls and the biggest collection of crystal, porcelain, and marble sculptures, vases, and pottery in the kingdom.

To be invited into the palace was a privilege. To have a room in the guest wing was an honor.

But it was an honor that had not before been extended to a group of pirates.

While Hongjoong slept in Seonghwa’s bed—to the amazement of the servants, who were still glad to have at least one prince back in good favor—the rest of the Desire’s crew took up residence across the palace in a block of rooms that had never before seen such violent and dirty people.

When Seonghwa first heard about it, he was too dazed to think about Wooyoung wiping himself dry after a bath with the finest-spun cotton towels in the kingdom. But as the days passed, and his side began to knit back together, Seonghwa listened to his servant provide an update on their guests and marvel at the situation.

The first place Seonghwa went after he became well enough to walk without Hongjoong holding him up was the guest wing.

The rooms were smaller there than what royal family members enjoyed, but each one was still larger than the entire crew quarters on the Desire.

Seonghwa assumed the wall hangings would not be crashed on the ground and bits of crystal glass would not be shattered on the rugs.

The servant had hinted that waiting on Seonghwa’s colleagues was a particularly undesirable assignment for the staff and that Hakyeon was too busy to address it. But Seonghwa had higher hopes for the crew.

If it was too much of a burden, Seonghwa would send them back to the Desire. Hakyeon mentioned he had a trustworthy friend keeping an eye on their ship, and Hongjoong perhaps would not normally be satisfied with that. But he trusted his own crew over the royal guards. Even if pirates defending Seonghwa from invaders in the palace was a particularly fantastical idea, Seonghwa let them stick around on the assumption they wouldn’t tear the palace apart.

The assumption seemed to hold true. The paintings in the guest wing were whole and the rugs were free of debris. If Seonghwa hadn’t known the crew were there he would have assumed the wing was empty of guests.

He and Hongjoong entered a room at random and saw half the crew. San, Wooyoung, and Jongho were sitting around a table with a top inlaid with mother of pearl and serving as the resting point of a thick book open to its middle.

“It’s four hundred years old,” Wooyoung said, surprised. They were all reading a passage in the book. “You couldn’t sell it here, but you have to pick a country close enough to Aruna that it still has value.”

Seonghwa looked over at the bed, still unmade despite the afternoon hour, and the dark wood box resting on the rumpled sheets. “What are you doing?” he asked, Hongjoong closing the door behind them.

All three looked up from the book at Seonghwa, caught. “Learning about the history of your country,” Wooyoung said. “Bet you’re surprised we can even read.”

“Where did you get that box?” Seonghwa asked. He didn’t recognize it, even as he stepped closer. It had a line of blue-white rough moonstone along the edges where the top half of the chest met the bottom.

“Wooyoung found it at the temple,” Jongho said. “He’s trying to see how much it’ll be worth.”

“You stole it?” Seonghwa picked up the box and held it against his chest. It weighed very little, so Seonghwa assumed it was empty. “You were going to sell the denomination’s valuables for a profit?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to sell it for a loss,” Wooyoung said, annoyed.

Seonghwa stared at him for a moment before turning his eyes on San. “You don’t see a problem with that?”

“I wasn’t going to let him sell it,” San said. He pulled the book closer to himself. “We found this in one of the libraries. I didn’t know he took it until he dumped it on my bed, and I was going to learn about it before making him put it back.”

Hongjoong took the book from San and read the cover. “A History of Denominational Artifacts.”

“You were in my mother’s library?” Seonghwa asked, voice going tight.

“Not on purpose,” Wooyoung said. “We didn’t know whose library it was when we got there.” He got out of his chair, legs pushing it back as he stood up. “I was never going to sell the box, anyway.” He got on the bed, even with his boots still on, and reclined back. He rested his head in his hands on the pillow. “I do have some restraint.”

Seonghwa didn’t sigh, but he couldn’t stop the disbelieving stare. “That’s why I came by, actually,” he said. Hongjoong put his hands on his shoulders and led him to the chair Wooyoung had left. “I’ve heard you’ve all been terrorizing the servants.” His eyes slid back to Wooyoung. “Some of you more than others.”

“I haven’t terrorized anyone!” Wooyoung shot back. “I can’t help it if they’re too afraid of me to be in the same room.”

Seonghwa looked at San. He shrugged. “It’s true. All we’ve been doing is walking around and opening unlocked doors. No one has gotten near us.”

“Aren’t you getting food?” Seonghwa asked. He put the box on the table.

“We leave our rooms for a few hours and when we come back, the meals are left on the tables.”

Wooyoung smirked. “It works for me.”

Seonghwa sighed, then. “I’ll talk to the servants,” he said. “Just don’t roam the halls like a gang of pirates. Walk quietly and non-threateningly. I’ll be better in a few days—” He cut himself off.

“You must be glad to be back in the palace,” Wooyoung mocked. “You’re so happy to be ordering us around.”

Seonghwa ignored it, pushing his chair back. Hongjoong, who had been hovering behind him, let his hands grasp Seonghwa’s arms to steady him. “I’m fine,” he said, quietly, but it didn’t stop the others from eyeing Hongjoong’s hands.

Seonghwa didn’t bother ignoring it. Maybe he’d never spilled the truth to any of them, but they knew. Probably a lot longer than Seonghwa had wanted to think about.

“The other three have been a little more tolerable,” Hongjoong said once they’d left the room and closed the door behind them. “Hakyeon had the royal librarian show Yeosang the navigation collection. Mingi follows him around everywhere. Yunho usually leaves the palace in the mornings and returns after dinner.”

“What’s he doing outside?” Seonghwa asked.

“Exploring, as I understand it. He’s never been to Aruna.”

“I’d have guessed San would be the one to explore,” Seonghwa said. “At least, that he would return to the temple. I doubt he wants to get back on the ship without having spoken with a few priests.”

“I’ll tell him he has your permission,” Hongjoong said, corner of his mouth lifting.

Seonghwa thought about the crew they’d just left and wondered if he would regret leaving the box there. “Maybe he shouldn’t,” he said. “Someone needs to make sure Wooyoung doesn’t get up to no good.”

Hongjoong led Seonghwa back to the royal family’s wing. “I really don’t think Wooyoung was going to sell that,” he said. “And I’ve heard the servants are too afraid to get near them. They haven’t had a chance to hurt anyone, and they wouldn’t if they did.”

Seonghwa, by now, trusted them with his life. And they didn’t seem to be harassing anyone in the palace, not that he thought they would. The only problem was their theft of precious artifacts and even that, it seemed, would be remedied. So he really would talk to the servants, even if it felt odd to be directing them after so many years of feeling like an outsider.

Getting back into bed sounded nice, but once they turned the corner Seonghwa and Hongjoong saw Hakyeon waiting outside Seonghwa’s door. “There you are,” he said, coming near them. “Would you like to accompany me to my office?” he asked.

As they followed him, Seonghwa realized that this was the first time he’d seen Hakyeon somewhere without Taekwoon next to him. The two of them had come to check on Seonghwa every day, Hakyeon providing a few updates of what he’d been doing to communicate with the army, the denomination, nobles, and the kingdom itself. He was bearing all the burden in Seonghwa’s place, but, Seonghwa noted, he didn’t seem upset by it at all.

Hakyeon had taken up the king’s office. Taekwoon had waited here for him, though he stood up when Hakyeon came in to sit behind the big desk. There were papers scattered all over it, and it reminded Seonghwa of Hongjoong’s office. Though this one was larger, because its width wasn’t bound by the hull of a ship.

“I’ve been speaking to a few people in the past few days,” Hakyeon said, settled in the king’s chair. “Especially the servants.” He raised an eyebrow. “They have a particularly insightful understanding of the dynamic between the prior king and Jaehwan.”

Both of them were locked in their suites. It was a little unsettling for Seonghwa, whose own rooms were in the same wing of the palace a floor beneath theirs. Though there were soldiers outside their doors, to know they were so close by was disturbing.

A decision about their fates had not yet been made. The king and Jaehwan would be restrained until the rest of the kingdom figured out what to do with them. A few of their fiercest allies finally crawled out of hiding to argue they should be sent to live in castles in the country, in recognition of their titles and service to the kingdom. Hakyeon wanted them both beheaded, and Seonghwa assumed they would end up in a compromise at the royal prison.

“Jaehwan wasn’t in his right mind,” Seonghwa said. He had taken a seat on one of the plush chairs around a smaller sitting table. “I didn’t see it before we fought, but once he fell, I saw it.”

“He hasn’t been for a while,” said Hakyeon. “After your parents died, the servants noticed a change in Jaehwan’s behavior. Some of them heard the king telling him it was the Crescent Priest’s fault that the Crown Prince died.” He sighed. “He’s had years to manipulate him. I regret being away from the palace as long as I was.”

Seonghwa had spent his time since being named the Crescent Prince retreating in on himself. He had known from the start that Jaehwan blamed Seonghwa for his father’s death, but he hadn’t realized Jaehwan meant it so literally. That the king had taken advantage of his grief to corrupt him. Then Seonghwa had done everything he could to avoid talking to Jaehwan, when that had been the worst thing he could have done.

“The king planted the Rex Lexicon in the denomination’s hands to make sure no one in the capital thought you capable of opposing Jaehwan as Crown Prince,” Hakyeon continued. “I’m sure I would have been the target of a similar plot if I had stayed behind.” He sat back in the chair, which he clearly seemed to think belonged to him. “But then he came up with this latest plan, and if it went well he could be rid of you forever and use it as an excuse to eliminate the denomination from the kingdom, too.”

No matter how many times Seonghwa heard it, no matter how he lived through it, the king’s plot was unbelievable.

“There’s something I want to know,” Hongjoong said. He was standing to Seonghwa’s side, like Taekwoon did with Hakyeon. Seonghwa would make no comment, but he was sure the servants did. “How did Jaehwan know that I wasn’t following the king’s orders?”

“I have contacts around Aruna,” Hakyeon said. “The king has contacts around the world.” He looked down at the papers and shuffled through them until he found what he was looking for. “Velvet Isle,” Hakyeon said. “He had eyes on Velvet Isle.” Hakyeon frowned as he read the page. “Something about a pine balm merchant?”

Seonghwa’s mouth opened in surprise as he looked up at Hongjoong. His disguise had failed.

If Hongjoong was stunned by it, he didn’t show it. “That would make sense,” he said. “It was the last place we stopped before Destino.”

But Hakyeon wasn’t looking at Hongjoong, not very interested in their journeys. His eyes were on Seonghwa. “You look much better than you did when I found you,” he said. “Maybe you’ll be too tired, but would you like to take a walk?”

At Seonghwa’s nod, he got up, and Taekwoon started to follow him. But Hakyeon held up a hand. “Just the two of us,” he said, and he was talking to Hongjoong, too.

Seonghwa followed. Hakyeon led them out of the office, and Seonghwa wondered what Hongjoong and Taekwoon would find to talk about.

But he went after Hakyeon, who led them through a few hallways until he was pushing open a heavy set of double doors and walked out to a quiet, manicured path along one wall of the palace.

Across the cold, frosted grass was the evergreen forest.

Seonghwa could smell the ice in the air and the scent of pines. The wind was coming off the trees, carrying the smell so strongly it felt like their sap was sticking inside his lungs.

Hakyeon immediately left the path to walk across the grass. It was so cold there were little crunching sounds under their shoes as Seonghwa followed after him.

That was the only sound. It was always quiet out here.

“I never spent much time in the palace,” Hakyeon said, breaking the quiet. “Not enough royal blood to grant me many more trips than a regular noble.” He looked over his shoulder, even as they neared the treeline. “But this has long been one of my favorite spots.”

“Mine, too,” Seonghwa said.

The sap was even thicker in each breath this close to the evergreens. Seonghwa approached one tree whose branches were so sparse he could rest his hand on the trunk. The bark was rough and hard, and it felt good to have under his palm.

“I owe you an apology,” Hakyeon said. “I’m sorry for the loss of your parents.”

Seonghwa didn’t reply.

“I never came back for their funeral,” Hakyeon continued. “More hiding, I guess, though it’s one of the many things I regret.”

“Thank you,” Seonghwa said, softly.

Hakyeon’s eyes took in the soaring treetops above them. They looked from one side to the other, like he was appraising them all. Then he looked back at Seonghwa. “You know that grief does things to people. In Jaehwan’s case, it broke the way he sees the world. Made it easier for the king to manipulate him, too.” He tilted his head. “I could have been worried the same happened to you, but not after what I heard from you in the temple garden.”

Seonghwa was wearing heavy clothing, much warmer than the flimsy robe he’d been in that night. But the cold was starting to overpower it. “The person you saw in the garden is not the same person from years ago.”

Hakyeon looked at him. “I can see that. I have to think that the Red Captain is part of the reason I don’t need to worry about you.”

Seonghwa knew what Hakyeon meant. At least, he suspected. But there was another meaning to Hakyeon’s words that Seonghwa thought he may not have intended.

Because it was true that it was Hongjoong who made it possible for Seonghwa to be skilled enough to fight two people in the dark and win against both.

But it was also true that Seonghwa, once he’d recovered enough from the wound on his side, had started to feel that restlessness in his hands again.

Only this time, he recognized it for what it was. After his parents died and after he found out the truth about the king, Seonghwa had an urge to control his life. It was a natural response to the reminders that life was sometimes wretchedly uncontrollable.

He couldn’t say he regretted acting on the urges. He’d done those things—tried to connect the kingdom and the denomination, planned to extend a hopeful hand to Jaehwan—for good reasons. He’d trusted people who later showed him they didn’t deserve it, but he didn’t regret that. Without them he would never have known Desire or its captain.

No, the reason he would leave this restlessness behind was because he could see there were ways to control his life and trust people without being driven by grief and fear.

Still, it was tempting, and it was what gave Hakyeon’s words a shot at being prescient. The restlessness wanted Seonghwa to grab hold of Hongjoong and pledge that he would never allow them to be separated again. They would go out to sea with the rest of the crew and all Seonghwa would know would be salt in his mouth and wind in his hair and wet wood under his feet.

There would be no reason to think about Aruna, or what its new king was doing.

So, yes, the Red Captain was part of the reason Hakyeon didn’t need to worry about Seonghwa. But that would only be true if Seonghwa gave in to the itch in his hands.

He wouldn’t do that anymore.

Hakyeon was no longer looking at the trees. He wasn’t looking at Seonghwa, either. He was looking behind them, at the palace spread out for them so extravagantly.

It was a good view. Each grand wing was easily seen, the windows with elaborate iron-wrought frames that weren’t blocked off by the lush drapery inside spilling out golden light into the washed-out colors of the wintery lawn.

Seonghwa didn’t know how the light could look so warm. How the palace managed to look elegant, so right, when Seonghwa could not find what he wanted inside.

Still, it wasn’t all bad. Seonghwa loved the evergreens. Even if they were not what Hakyeon liked about this spot.

“I thought about whether I should speak to either of them,” Seonghwa said. “But when I thought about what I wanted to say, the only thing I’m left with is to thank them.” He exhaled. “Maybe you do have to worry about me.”

Hakyeon shook his head, eyes on the palace. “Death is a risky goal. It makes rebirth possible.” Finally he looked at Seonghwa. “They took their risk on the wrong person.”

“The right person,” Seonghwa said.

It earned him a smile. But it wasn’t enough to keep out the cold, which forced Seonghwa to let go of the tree in favor of hiding his hands in his sleeves. “Should we go back?”

They found Hongjoong and Taekwoon where they left them. They had both taken seats at the table and looked up when Seonghwa came in, so they must really have found something to talk about.

But the trip to the guest wing and then to the evergreens had been exhausting. Seonghwa let Hongjoong leave the conversation to escort him back to his suite.

He didn’t even have the energy to watch the sunset. He just got back into bed.

Seonghwa would tell Hongjoong that he could make one of the other crewmen stand guard. He had not left Seonghwa’s side since Seonghwa had woken up in his bed a few days earlier. It must have been excruciatingly boring, because Seonghwa spent most of his time sleeping. Hongjoong denied boredom, but Seonghwa saw through it.

For now, though, he wanted to talk to Hongjoong about something else. “How long did it take you to figure out that Hakyeon wants to be king?” he asked.

Hongjoong had taken up a spot at the little table next to one of the windows. He had a book from the late princess’s library. Seonghwa had known which one with only a glance at the cover: pirate tales, a well-loved edition Seonghwa had spent hours with as a child.

Perhaps he was interested it in to laugh at what land-dwellers thought of his kind, or maybe it would serve as a kind of letter from home. Seonghwa didn’t know the longest time Hongjoong had gone without seeing the sea since becoming a pirate. But Aruna’s palace was far from the coasts, and Seonghwa would still be too weak to defend himself for quite some time. Hongjoong would not be leaving the palace for a while, no matter whether the ocean within him wanted to or not.

Hongjoong set the book down on the table and turned in the chair to look at Seonghwa. “The moment he revealed the plot against you at the temple.”

“So, the first thing he said.” Seonghwa sighed. “I’m ashamed to admit it didn’t occur to me until he took me to the evergreens today.”

“You’ve barely been conscious until today,” Hongjoong said.

“As if you can’t read people in your sleep.”

“Seonghwa, you of all people should know who I am.” Hongjoong got out of his seat to come close to the bed, dragging a stool and sitting next to Seonghwa. “And I know you. You’ve measured up every time.”

Seonghwa didn’t feel sad at that moment. He wasn’t thinking about anything but Hongjoong. But he found there were tears stinging his eyes and falling down his cheeks all the same.

“It doesn’t feel like it,” he said, voice gone small. He wasn’t talking about reading Hakyeon’s motive, anymore.

Hongjoong leaned over, one hand going across Seonghwa’s body to take his hand and the other holding onto his waist. “You have,” he said.

The worst part was that Seonghwa, deep down, believed it.

Blaming others wasn’t good enough, because it gave away the responsibility of Seonghwa’s satisfaction. But if Seonghwa could blame himself for falling short, then at least he would be blaming someone accountable to him. Someone he could control.

But he couldn’t blame himself, because he had not fallen short. He had made mistakes and misjudgments and they were not to blame because he had tried his best through it all. He’d done his very best and that meant there was no one else he could direct the ache for his parents at. Not at himself, not at Jaehwan, not at the king.

He could assign it to no one. So it sat heavy and deep in him, the grief, and it would be there for the rest of his life.

He thought he’d come to some resolution that day. He thought he’d seen Hakyeon for who he was and could do something about it. But he didn’t end the night feeling strong enough to pull it off, and he was glad sleep came so easily to his hurt body. Otherwise, it would have been too hard to leave the sadness behind.

—

As the days went by, Seonghwa revisited more spots in the palace he’d missed. Sometimes he took Hongjoong and sometimes he went alone. He was always thinking, but sometimes he wanted to do it by himself.

But there was one place that had been calling for him. He’d gone past the doors a few times, and he knew he’d been beaten there by the crew. But it had taken until now to feel like he could visit and still want to leave again.

He would bring Hongjoong with him for this one.

“I want to show you something,” he said, leading Hongjoong to the set of dark wood double doors.

They stood in front of them for a moment before Seonghwa pushed them open.

Like San said, the doors were unlocked. And it was close to the crew’s rooms, so Seonghwa really should have foreseen that they would come here.

His mother’s library was an intimate space. It managed to store thousands of books along the walls and on dark wood shelves that matched the doors, but what little floor space that was left empty was taken up by a long desk and chairs, a fireplace in the far corner, and a huge, overstuffed deep red couch under the oversized iron-wrought windows that looked out over a garden full of weeping willows.

In the winter, the trees were bare of leaves. Their long spindly branches looked like a mess of brown wires.

But the library was warm and illuminated with gentle candlelight. Seonghwa had not planned to visit, so the fireplace was empty, but there were thick blankets folded over one arm of the couch.

“This is my mother’s library,” Seonghwa said. None of the books appeared out of order, and the table was empty. Servants could have cleaned up after the crew, but Seonghwa didn’t think so. The crew had not made a mess in here. “My favorite place in the palace.”

“I can see why,” Hongjoong said, and he walked through the center of the room. He let his hand trace along the edge of the table as he walked.

Seonghwa went to the couch, and he sat down slowly to avoid sending a rush of pain through himself. He’d been getting better quickly, both because he hadn’t been hurt as bad as Mingi and because he had better doctors to treat him. “I’ve spent so many hours staring out the window,” he said, savoring the plush cushions underneath him. He nodded his head to the chair at the head of the table. “My father would sit there and we’d talk about the denomination.”

Hongjoong took a look at a row of books on a shelf. “These are all about the Crescent,” he said.

“Most of the books in here are,” Seonghwa said. The room smelled like it always did, old paper and book bindings. It was like taking a breath from his memories. “Or they’re children’s stories. My mother wanted my father and I to have reading material in here that we couldn’t find in the royal library.”

Hongjoong took a seat next to Seonghwa, though he didn’t sit close enough to touch. “I should have something like this on our ship,” he said, taking in the room.

Seonghwa looked at the room, too. He saw the books, most with cracked and faded spines, lining the shelves, and thought about how many times he or his father had put their hands on them as they talked after dinner under candlelight. His mother didn’t always join them, but even when she didn’t, she liked to sit on the couch and listen, anyway.

In this room, his conversations about the denomination were always just that. Then, without his parents to guide him, Seonghwa didn’t know how to apply the Two Mantras or the faith in a changing moon to his life.

His time at sea had taught him what his parents never got the chance to.

Seonghwa was able to face Jaehwan, and defeat him, even if only a short while before a revelation like what he’d heard would have sent him running—did send him running. Once he had learned, on Destino, that he could hear the worst and still wake up the next day, Seonghwa understood that he didn’t need to run.

Seonghwa really triumphed over his past, and as he’d developed his strength he made it possible for himself to bring justice to his family and to the kingdom, who would not need to be ruled by people like his grandfather or cousin.

But it didn’t mean he would never face struggles again, or that he would not need strength or wisdom. Because Hakyeon had grown into a clever man, and Seonghwa may have known what his motivation was in helping him talk to the army and Hongjoong escape punishment, but he did not know where exactly Hakyeon would have the rest of his motivation take him.

“Hakyeon has changed a lot since we were kids,” Seonghwa said. “I have, too.” He glanced at Hongjoong as he said it, then took his gaze back to the room in front of him. “But I don’t know for how long I’ll think that’s a good thing.”

“I don’t think it’s something you can know after only a few days,” Hongjoong said.

Seonghwa agreed. “Though it’s not like you really must care about it,” Seonghwa said. “Or anything in this palace. It’s not like Aruna did much for you while you lived here.”

Seonghwa had still been looking out at the room, but he felt Hongjoong’s eyes on him. He turned his head, only to be met with a look he could only describe as loving. “I think it’s done plenty for me,” Hongjoong said.

Seonghwa huffed so that he could distract from the pink dusting his cheeks. “I mean it,” he said. “Be serious.”

He could see Hongjoong’s teeth behind his smile, but Seonghwa wouldn’t give in. “One way or another, Hakyeon thinks he’ll be on the throne,” he said. “Do you really think, if I couldn’t understand my grandfather or Jaehwan, I’ll be able to see whether he deserves it?”

Hongjoong didn’t answer for a moment. “Well, that’s not the most important question,” he said. “Do you want to be on the throne?”

It was one thing to feel passionate about incorporating the denomination into the ruling family a little more. Seonghwa did not want to have the whole kingdom on his shoulders, and that had always been true.

What he had not realized until recently—because his journeys had never taken him out to sea—was that when he chose to hide after his parents’ death, he chose to do it as a traveler, not as a homebody.

Seonghwa realized he enjoyed seeing the world. He couldn’t bear the thought of being stuck in the kingdom forever, not when he’d seen what was outside of it.

He said as much to Hongjoong. If Hongjoong felt relief from Seonghwa’s answer, he didn’t show it.

Instead, he nodded along. “I think you could be king, if you wanted to,” he said.

Seonghwa didn’t want to. That was true, he found as he felt within himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t think he could, because he did.

Hongjoong continued. “And since you can do that, I can’t see why you wouldn’t be able to decide if someone else could, too.”

Maybe it was easy for Hongjoong to see the bridge between those two things, but Seonghwa couldn’t. Because, by now, Seonghwa had learned to read himself. To understand who he was and what he wanted. But that was different from reading others.

Seonghwa didn’t reply, even as he felt Hongjoong’s contemplating eyes on the side of his face. “Through resilience, wisdom,” Hongjoong quoted. “Why do you think the denomination pairs those two in the first place?”

Seonghwa looked at Hongjoong. He had not heard Hongjoong talk about the Crescent like that before.

Hongjoong got up from the couch and took a few steps so he could sit at the table. “Because wisdom—knowledge and how to use it—is something that can only be developed by doing hard things. You need to be able to face the hard things over and over to get at it." Hongjoong rested his elbow on the table top and leaned his weight on it, and it was like he was continuing a conversation that Seonghwa’s father had started years ago, in that very same spot. “Pirates may be able to tell when a mutiny is coming more easily than someone who’s spent most of his life on land, but I doubt that really surprises you.”

Seonghwa remembered the story Hongjoong told him on the hill overlooking the town on Velvet Isle. How he’d gone to bed one night, unsuspecting, and woken up with a new life. A worse one. How Hongjoong hadn’t said it to Seonghwa, but he’d probably promised himself he wouldn’t let that happen to himself again. Only to see another mutiny, to be forced into cleaning up after it.

“It’s okay to hurt and feel the pain,” Hongjoong said. “But you have to get up. I’ve never known you not to get back up.”

San had been right, all those months ago in the clinic. About Hongjoong and the denomination.

There was one thing San had been wrong about. Seonghwa doubted Hongjoong didn’t realize how much he had in common with the denomination’s teachings.

Seonghwa looked out at the library. “I think my parents would be glad to know I found someone who can speak about the denomination so wisely,” he said. He looked back at Hongjoong. “I just wish your paths had overlapped.” No tears came, but the ache from the other night was back.

“They did,” Hongjoong said. “They do. Our paths cross through you.”

Seonghwa had learned countless things about himself and the world on the Desire. This was the most important: to grow was to leave behind. His strength grew, and he left weakness behind somewhere in the cerulean shimmer just off the coast of his home kingdom. His resilience grew, and he left fragility behind in a trail of blood long since washed off sun-bleached wood.

Growth was hard, because it had a steep price: his old self. He’d traded it all in, not always willingly and never knowing whether the exchange would be worth it. The result really was rebirth, but somehow he’d come out of it feeling more like himself—like the person his parents had meant for him to be—than he ever dreamed.

There was another thing Seonghwa learned. Secondary, but it underpinned it all. The exchange had not just been worth it. The exchange was a steal. He’d come out of it with the brutal and cunning captain who could make his heart race with a single look, forever in his eyes.

Though the look Hongjoong gave him now didn’t make Seonghwa’s heart race. It was a look of certainty, and it soothed Seonghwa’s ache.

Maybe Seonghwa’s grief would last forever, but so would this. And if it did, he had nothing to fear.

—

The servants took a little while to warm up to the ruffians running around the palace’s pristine halls. But eventually they did, confident they wouldn’t end up like their returned prince.

Seonghwa was gratified to see that the crew would not make him regret speaking to the servants. They indulged themselves in food and drink and continued to explore the rooms behind unlocked doors, but they didn’t pull any swords or direct frightening looks at anyone.

And they weren’t stealing artifacts, anymore. San had even gone to the temple to return the chest. He had not returned empty-handed, but Seonghwa knew that the new moonstone pendant resting on his collarbone had been put there willingly by a priest.

And, when Seonghwa wasn’t having conversations with Hakyeon about their travels around Aruna or savoring the winter wind in his lungs in the bare garden outside his mother’s library, he would talk to Yeosang about what he’d learned from the navigation books.

His days were full. They were strange, because they were spent with a peculiar group of people that had only one reason—him—to be under one extraordinarily large roof.

But Hongjoong and Seonghwa generally took the nights for themselves.

He didn’t say it, probably didn’t even realize it, but Seonghwa knew that Hongjoong could not stay on land for much longer. Not when there was no water around to ease the wait.

But with the two of them in Seonghwa’s bed, there was no one keeping track of the crew’s activities with the courage and interest in tamping down their festivities. Seonghwa thought pirates only drank rum. But after the crew convinced the servants of their need to imbibe on a nightly basis, he had the strange thought that he should ask Hongjoong to restock the palace’s stores the next time they made port.

He was in the king’s office—the office that used to belong to the king—with Hakyeon at the desk when they talked about it. “You’re going to have to get your crew out of here, soon,” Hakyeon said, “because we’re going to run out of liquor in a few weeks at the pace they’re going.”

“You say that as if this place hasn’t hosted hundreds of people who can barely stumble out after a single night.”

“Oh, I know what happens during parties in this palace. Your crew rivals even that,” Hakyeon said, glint in his eye. “I’m only half-joking.”

Seonghwa let out a humored breath. But it brought up something Seonghwa could not keep pushing off. “Maybe it’s time we talked about the crew leaving.”

Hakyeon raised an eyebrow.

“You’re too smart to think I’m going to leave this all to you,” Seonghwa said, a hand outstretched to motion to the office and everything else, “so that I can sail away with them.”

“Am I?”

Seonghwa was sitting at the table a little ways away from the desk. It gave him a good view of Hakyeon, and of how well he fit there. “Maybe it’s what you want, more than what you think.”

Hakyeon tilted his head. “It’s what you want.”

Seonghwa blinked.

“And I don’t see any reason why we can’t both get what we want,” Hakyeon said.

Seonghwa did. There were two of them, locked up in grand suites at that very moment.

“But I’m also too smart to think that it will happen before your crew drinks us out of the palace,” Hakyeon finished. “So I have another proposition for you.”

Hakyeon got up, leaving the desk behind so that he could sit next to Seonghwa at the table. He leaned in, weight on his elbows on the table, as if he was letting Seonghwa in on a secret plan.

It turned out that he was.

The next few days turned into a week, then another, and Seonghwa spent most of his time with Hakyeon. They worked together in the office, ate together in the dining room, and read together in the royal library. Seonghwa even led them into his mother’s library.

Perhaps, eventually, it would be time to call it his library. But not quite yet.

But as the time passed, Seonghwa became increasingly sure of two things. First, the kingdom needed a king, and it couldn’t wait much longer to know the next one. Second, if he didn’t set the crew free soon, the palace would start to resemble the island for them all.

Hongjoong knew it, even if he had the grace not to say it. And Hakyeon knew it, too.

But he was sure of himself, sure of his decision and sure that he could handle it if it went wrong. Seonghwa knew it was time, and he wasn’t afraid.

—

The king’s coronation was always the grandest ceremony that the palace witnessed.

Everyone who could claim even the thinnest thread of a connection to the new king had a seat in their greatest, largest ballroom. That meant that even the crew of the Desire was in attendance, in a corner so far away that Seonghwa couldn’t make out their faces. But they were there, Hongjoong next to him. Seonghwa didn’t need to see him to know his eyes were on him.

The walls of the ballroom were lined by officers of various royal departments and army battalions in their dress uniforms, the center of it covered in a long, red carpet.

There were close to a thousand people in the room, but they didn’t make any sound as Seonghwa walked across it, wearing his own uniform and looking nothing like the bilge rat he’d been when he’d first been dragged aboard the Desire. Instead the room was filled with the music played by a royal string ensemble.

The music quieted when the ceremony began.

The audience was silent as Seonghwa felt the weight of the crown when it was laid on his head, its gleaming gold out of sight but heavy enough Seonghwa was glad he wouldn’t need to wear it for long.

Still. He waited a few moments to memorize how it felt.

The crowd was still silent as he reached up. But they broke that silence with a rush of gasps and murmurs and questions of surprise when they watched Seonghwa take the crown off his head and gently place it on Hakyeon’s.

The noise didn’t stop until late that night, when the final guests left the reception and even the crew had retired to their rooms.

It left Seonghwa and Hongjoong with the chance to take a walk around the quiet, dark halls of the palace.

Moonlight fell through the windows in spotlights on the floor. As they walked, they moved through light and shadow. “Do you think I should have kept the crown for myself?” Seonghwa asked.

“I would have to call you ‘King,’” Hongjoong said. “Would you like that more than ‘Prince?’”

Seonghwa tilted his head to lean it on Hongjoong’s shoulder for a moment, then picked it back up. “I don’t think so,” he said.

They walked down the hallway, passing a little crystal vase of snowdrops. The tiny flowers were under one of the spotlights that came through the window, so the white petals shined even as the rest of the wall on either side was dark.

Despite the increasing nights he’d slept in it, his room here never felt as big as it did before he’d been taken out to sea. The palace was grand and full of treasures, but it didn’t rock on gentle waves. The breeze in the garden was never as strong as the wind on the sea.

Seonghwa was drawn to Hongjoong. It was natural to seek his hand out under the covers at night and keep his body in sight during the day. Every muscle and bone was drawn into him. If Hongjoong moved, Seonghwa followed. Compelled.

Seonghwa could see a thought behind Hongjoong’s eyes. He saw his jaw set with the words.

Seonghwa knew, like he knew the light of a full moon on a cloudless night, that the next words out of Hongjoong’s mouth would be a question. It would be the question Seonghwa had no answer to for so long.

But there was an answer, now. He wasn’t sure when that answer formed in his head. Whether it was when that cold sword was held against his neck or when he first felt Hongjoong’s blood on his throat. Or maybe before that, long before, when the only thing in Seonghwa’s world was sand and sunburns and a hand in his under a starlit sky.

Hongjoong had already asked the question, too. Not in words, but in the way he asked Seonghwa what to do about delinquent pirates and led Seonghwa through crowded marketplaces and the way he held Seonghwa in their bed at night.

Seonghwa didn’t need to hear Hongjoong ask it again. He didn’t want to. Not when he couldn’t give the answer he longed for.

“I can’t come with you right now,” Seonghwa said, beating him to it.

Seonghwa half expected the world to stop. It felt like his might.

But it didn’t. The world kept turning and he and Hongjoong kept walking. The only sign Hongjoong had heard him was his hand coming up to the small of Seonghwa’s back.

Seonghwa didn’t need help walking anymore, his side healed enough that it only sent a twinge of pain if he bent over or turned in bed wrong. But he was glad for Hongjoong’s hand all the same.

“I trust Hakyeon,” he continued. “But I can’t leave the kingdom to him on trust.”

“Hakyeon is king,” Hongjoong said. “Haven’t you, already?”

A sly smile spread on Seonghwa’s lips. “Not so long as I have your dagger.”

“You think you can take the kingdom back with a dagger?”

“I think I already did.”

Hongjoong looked at him, surprised, but he huffed a laugh out anyway. Then he took his hand from Seonghwa’s back to rub at his face, laughter gone as soon as it came.

“But I mean that it’s only for now,” Seonghwa said, and he needed Hongjoong to be certain of this. “Only until I’m sure the kingdom will be alright.”

“I believe you,” Hongjoong said, and he could sense Seonghwa’s urgency. It relaxed Seonghwa. “I don’t want us to sail too far. How long will it take?”

Seonghwa found Hongjoong’s hand, now at his side, and drew it back to rest against the small of his back. “No more than a year,” Seonghwa said. “You and I didn’t need a full four seasons.”

“I don’t think it took me more than one,” Hongjoong admitted.

“I promise that I’ll be waiting for you at the next winter solstice.” He looked into Hongjoong’s eyes, trying to communicate everything he felt because words felt so inadequate. “I promise I’ll still want to go with you.”

“I think I’ll be the one waiting,” Hongjoong said. Then he broke their gaze. “Because a ship is nothing like a palace. Even if it is the Desire.”

“I’m not staying here because I want to live in a palace,” Seonghwa said. “And your bed is more comfortable than mine.”

Hongjoong glanced over at him. “A pirate’s ship isn’t very safe.”

“Neither was the palace.”

Under Hakyeon, that would change. Seonghwa believed it, and he had a feeling that he would see a lot of change in the coming months. At the same time, Seonghwa could not forget what happened. Danger could be hiding in any corner.

At least on the ocean, Seonghwa would be able to see it coming. From all directions.

He wouldn’t regret this. But he was already eager for the water.

“I’ll keep you safe,” Hongjoong said, and he stopped them both under a window. They stood in a square of moonlight. “Like I know you’ll keep me safe.”

Hongjoong’s scar over his cheek was just a whisper on his skin. As Seonghwa looked into Hongjoong’s eyes, he could see the confidence in them, the hope. They didn’t take him into the past. In Hongjoong’s eyes, Seonghwa saw his future.

————————————

It was a beautiful day, if not a bit chilly so close to winter on this side of the world. Jongho had been eyeing the crow’s nest while Hongjoong checked on their cargo in the special goods room. When he finished, he relieved Jongho of his duty of manning the helm so that he could take in the sunshine from above.

Hongjoong’s own enjoyment of the gentle warmth was interrupted when Nyx brought a letter tied around his foot to the helm.

The letter was written on thick paper and tied in a strip of soft, dark blue silk. Hakyeon’s seal, thick silver wax, was easy to lift off the envelope.

Dear Captain Hongjoong:

You are cordially invited to the king’s ceremony commemorating the late Crescent Priest, which is to be held on the evening of the winter solstice at the Temple of the Crescent.

Prince Seonghwa stands ever ready to receive you. The guest rooms in the palace will be prepared for those wishing to accompany you.

Faithfully,

Hakyeon, King of Aruna

A smile spread over Hongjoong’s face.

A year ago, they’d left Aruna with a heavy gift from the new king. The prior one had not left any payment on the Desire as promised, though Hongjoong would have tossed it overboard if he had. At least there had been no gunpowder lining the decks.

Hongjoong used the money to spoil his crew with food and clothing and weapons.

Of course, he’d always taken care of his crew. But Hakyeon had given them so much money there was nothing for him to do but spend it.

Despite it all, he couldn’t stop them from looking forward to being in the palace again. The food there was cooked by the finest chefs and served on shining gold trays whenever they wanted it. There was no salt spray burning their skin and no storms to turn their stomachs.

He knew they all lived for the sea—Seonghwa would be no exception—and he knew they would enjoy the respite before returning to the Desire for another adventure.

So Hongjoong would tell Yeosang to set course for Aruna. Then he would savor the sun.

—

The sun’s rays broke through the tops of the evergreens to cast calm light on Seonghwa’s face.

He’d come out here before sunrise—not a hard task, on the shortest day of the year—so that he could watch the day break over the palace. It wasn’t a view he took in too often, but because he wouldn’t be able to see it for much longer he had the feeling like he should take a good look while he still could.

But once the sky was truly light, Seonghwa made his way back inside. The halls were already busy, full of servants and officials running around to prepare for the reception that would follow the ceremony this evening.

It wasn’t just this day that was busy. They’d been busy for the past year, because Hakyeon had brought lofty dreams with him and immediately set upon making them real. Seonghwa easily joined him, and together they’d begun to bridge that gap between the kingdom and the denomination Seonghwa had wanted to close for so long. In turn, it meant the stranglehold of noble interests lessened, and the rest of the kingdom was not crowded out.

There was one thing Hakyeon hadn’t gotten. The two people most responsible for that gap that Seonghwa and Hakyeon worked to close kept their heads. Instead they would live their lives out in the royal prison.

Still. Through it all, Seonghwa never even felt the need to use his dagger. But he had to admit that sparring with the royal army was never as fun as it was with Wooyoung.

Instead, Seonghwa learned he’d been right to trust Hakyeon. He’d proven himself better suited to being king than anyone else Seonghwa had ever known.

Seonghwa would join the buzz of people preparing for the night. But he wanted to take a little moment for himself, the last he’d get from this part of his life.

So instead of heading to his suite to get ready, he made his way to his library.

He didn’t bother closing the door behind himself. There was no one here he needed to keep out.

The dark floors shined in the early morning light. There’d been a fire in the fireplace the night before, and Seonghwa could still smell the burning wood. It mixed with the scent of the books and buried itself in his heart.

He let his hand trail against the tabletop as he walked to the window. He didn’t sit on the couch, content to look out.

It wasn’t the open ocean, or an unknown town with dark alleyways and hidden treasures. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight at all. But Seonghwa would get plenty of those, so for now he savored the sight of the wiry branches of the weeping willows, drifting gently in the breeze.

His library was quiet. It was nestled in the same wing of the palace as the living quarters, so there was no bustle in the halls outside.

The quiet was part of what made it so peaceful in there. It, too, would become something Seonghwa thought back on. So he listened to it, contemplated it, until it was gone. 

But it was replaced with something better. Breaking through the quiet were boots on the wood floor and the clinking of metal, rising up behind Seonghwa and so familiar in his ears it was like they had always been there.

It was a musical little tune that made Seonghwa’s heart beat fast. He turned, but he didn’t get to catch a glimpse of Hongjoong’s face before he was drawn into the embrace that pulled him into the rest of his life.

—

The Desire had departed the dock once the sun had broken over the horizon. It was a cloudless sky with a strong wind, so they sailed fast and far even in the short day.

The crew’s moods were high. Higher than they’d been in at least a year. Having Seonghwa back made it hard for anyone to focus on their work, but Hongjoong said nothing. He was as happy as the rest of them.

And Hongjoong also knew no work would be done that night. They’d celebrated Seonghwa’s return plenty on land already, and even if the palace’s servants were not afraid of the pirates they at least were very annoyed by their last day as guests.

Now they would have to clean up after themselves, but not even that could dim the mood. Hongjoong told Mingi to find the rum and gather the crew on the gun deck.

Hongjoong wouldn’t be drinking, because someone had to keep watch. And he really had celebrated with them plenty for weeks, now. They’d only been planning to stay at the palace a little while, just for the ceremony, and Hongjoong had been too caught up in returning to Seonghwa that he forgot they would eventually return to the sea.

Still. Hongjoong’s sobriety tonight didn’t mean he had to hide away in the crow’s nest.

They cleared a space in the center of the gun deck, dragged all the chairs and tables together to set their cups on. Hongjoong took one of the chairs for his own and set himself up in the corner with his journal and a pen. From here, he could keep an eye on his crew without getting caught up in their revelry.

Though most of the crew were in and out of the galley refilling their cups, Hongjoong noticed that they kept Seonghwa in his chair. They kept calling him prince, offering to refill his cup with a flourish like they were the royal servants.

Seonghwa was laughing with them, and Hongjoong could see the sparkle in his eye and a growing flush on his cheeks. It sent a satisfied little knot into his stomach that distracted him from his writing.

Eventually, Hongjoong admitted to himself that he would get no work of his own done that night, either. He still wouldn’t join the crew, but he set the journal and pen on the ground and admired them.

But the more he watched Jongho refill Seonghwa’s glass, Wooyoung and San tease each other under Yunho’s annoyed complaints, and Mingi and Yeosang bury their heads in hushed conversation, the less he saw of it. His eyes kept going back to Seonghwa, to the growing redness on his skin and his gentle swaying from side to side in his chair.

When Seonghwa tried to get up, claiming he would treat them all like princes for once, he lost his footing and had to catch himself on the table. With that, Hongjoong knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from stepping in.

So Hongjoong gathered his things and headed to his quarters. The cool air that brushed over his face when he escaped to the main deck was a respite. It made it easier to resist going back down there and dragging Seonghwa with him.

They all deserved to relax, Hongjoong knew. He could keep watch much better without the distractions, anyway.

So Hongjoong made his way to his quarters and set up his writing at his desk. He began a new journal entry, this time detailing his recent trip to the cliffs of Velvet Isle. He wrote in some detail, because he wanted to make sure that when he took Seonghwa there they would only see the best parts.

But then he turned the pages back to his description of his trip earlier trip to Velvet Isle with Seonghwa. He’d written it after they’d left him in Aruna, and he was taking the loss hard. Hongjoong now considered whether he needed to find a better hiding place for the journal. He didn’t think Seonghwa would read about the way he studied the faces of passersby or let his fingertips dance against the tall flowers lining the edge of the walking paths without coming to complain to Hongjoong about his strange tastes.

But then a clumsy hand was struggling to turn the doorknob and Hongjoong looked up to see Seonghwa stumbling in.

His cheeks were flushed pink, his hair a mess, and when he spotted Hongjoong he giggled to himself and made his undexterous way over.

“I see our men took it as their responsibility to indulge you,” Hongjoong said, eyes drawn to Seonghwa as if he were magnetic. Seonghwa stumbled out of his boots, then made his way around Hongjoong’s desk. Hongjoong pushed his chair back when he saw Seonghwa eyeing his lap.

Seonghwa’s comfort had grown a little with time, but the past few weeks proved he was still often taken by shyness and was obstinately reserved until Hongjoong had gotten him underneath him long enough.

So Hongjoong expected Seonghwa to sit primly, both legs to one side. But then he climbed on the chair with one knee on either side of Hongjoong’s hips, his ass resting on right on Hongjoong’s lap, and under the surprise Hongjoong felt something tighten in his stomach.

Hongjoong’s hands came to wrap around the small of Seonghwa’s back. Seonghwa’s position seemed stable enough if he were in full control of his body, but the shine on his skin and his sparkling eyes told Hongjoong that Seonghwa was not in such control.

“We were having so much fun,” Seonghwa said, and his breath was sweet with the rum. He licked his lips, and they shined. “Where did you go?”

“I was right here, my prince,” Hongjoong said, and he tried to adjust his grip on Seonghwa’s back, lifting him ever so slightly, so that it would hopefully take some of the pressure off.

Seonghwa giggled and rested his hands on Hongjoong’s shoulders to steady himself. The motion made him shift on Hongjoong.

Seonghwa poked a finger at the spot in Hongjoong’s jaw that he’d tensed. “Did you feel left out?” he asked, brow creasing in worry.

“No, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong said, sacrificing one of the hands keeping Seonghwa somewhat still so that he could smooth the crease with his thumb. Then he cupped Seonghwa’s blushed cheek, and he could feel the warmth of the drink. Seonghwa’s tongue peeked out to lick his lips again. “I wanted you all to have the night to yourselves.”

Seonghwa smiled gently again, and it was a nice sight, but it was accompanied by another innocent shifting of Seonghwa’s legs to get comfortable. Hongjoong tore his gaze away from Seonghwa’s pink cheeks, tried to set the scent of Seonghwa’s skin and gentle breath out of his mind.

He took his hand from Seonghwa’s face to grip his hips. Maybe that way he could stop Seonghwa from his maddening shifting.

“Next time you should join us,” Seonghwa said with a smile. He looked so happy, so relaxed, and it was a mood Hongjoong was glad to see so intensely on him. It made it very hard to resist when his mind kept presenting him with pictures of how he could get Seonghwa to relax even more.

Hongjoong let out a shaky breath and rested his forehead on Seonghwa’s shoulder. It helped to get the redness of Seonghwa’s shining lips out of his eyes, but it only made it easier to breathe in the scent of him. “Next time,” Hongjoong said, fingers digging into Seonghwa’s hips tighter in the hopes it would ground him.

“Hongjoong, are you alright?” asked Seonghwa. He was so blameless it made Hongjoong ache. Seonghwa’s clumsy tongue didn’t stop him from chatting so innocently. Hongjoong wanted to feel it against his own, but he knew he couldn’t stop them from devolving.

Seonghwa on his lap was like honey dripping in the sun. He was so soft, so easily moved around by Hongjoong’s hands on his hips, but no matter where Hongjoong rested his head or turned his eyes, Seonghwa kept sticking to him.

Seonghwa shifted again. In his intoxication, his squirming and shifting on Hongjoongs’ lap was constant, and the constant rubbing would drive Hongjoong out of his mind. Hongjoong couldn’t stop himself from thinking about how pliable Seonghwa would be like this, how he could make Seonghwa flush more and unable to form even slurred words.

“Seonghwa, would you like to go to bed?” Hongjoong breathed. His effort to resist was a physical ache. He sat back against the chair, leaning his head back on it and looking down his nose at Seonghwa as if the distance would help.

“But I wanted to talk with you,” Seonghwa said, pouting. Hongjoong’s eyes drank in the sight.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know.” Seonghwa giggled again, and his body shook with it, tormenting Hongjoong.

He couldn’t stand it. Hongjoong set his hands under Seonghwa’s thighs and stood up, taking Seonghwa with him.

“Oh!” Seonghwa gasped, and on instinct he wrapped his legs around Hongjoong’s back. It had the unfortunate effect of pressing himself against Hongjoong, who grunted as he felt it.

“I think it’s time to sleep,” Hongjoong huffed as he walked them to the bed. He set Seonghwa down, slowly and gently, then stretched him out on the sheets.

Resisting the urge to lay himself over Seonghwa, he turned to put on his sleep clothes. Seonghwa would just have to sleep in what he was wearing, because Hongjoong couldn’t undress him only to clothe him again.

But then he felt a tug on the back of his shirt. “Where are you going?” Seonghwa asked, confusion decorating his pretty voice. “I want you to sit with me.”

Hongjoong didn’t turn back right away. He took in a deep breath and braced himself.

“Hongjoong?” Seonghwa asked, with another tug to his shirt.

“What is it, my dear?” Hongjoong asked, turning and sitting on the edge of the bed. He was close enough to reach a hand out and trace Seonghwa’s eyebrow with his thumb, but he didn’t want to touch him. Seonghwa was still honey. Hongjoong wouldn’t be able to pull his hand away without getting stuck.

“Are you sure you didn’t want to join us?”

Hongjoong had seen Seonghwa’s hair fanned out on the pillows every night since they started sharing a bed. It had taken a year to see the sight again, and he savored it in the past few weeks. But with Seonghwa’s messy hair looking so soft and his eyes sparkling in the low light, the image of it here was like nothing Hongjoong had seen before.

He nodded at Seonghwa’s question. “Yes. I wanted you all to have an enjoyable night, but I wanted to keep watch. I’m glad that I could do that.”

Hongjoong was being honest, but Seonghwa still frowned. “Why do you look so tense?”

How he could tell what Hongjoong was feeling through his inebriation, Hongjoong didn’t know.

On their first night together after their separation, Hongjoong found that Seonghwa had somehow become as bashful as he’d ever known him. Hongjoong had spent time chasing away the timidity, but he thought it might be a while until it was truly gone—if it ever would.

Now, though, the drink had led Seonghwa to lose that bashfulness he carried around Hongjoong so thoroughly it didn’t seem he was even aware of it.

Despite Hongjoong’s commitment to nobility in this, Seonghwa looked like he may truly get upset if Hongjoong didn’t give him a satisfactory answer. “I just think you look so beautiful,” Hongjoong said, truthful if not completely.

The frown melted and Seonghwa smiled. His eyes were only half-open, but he looked at Hongjoong with purpose. “You like beautiful things.”

Hongjoong smiled back. “That’s right, and you’re the most beautiful of all.”

Suddenly Seonghwa brought his hands up to cover his eyes. “Ah,” he gasped, and Hongjoong could see his cheeks go red. It was a dark color, the color of Seonghwa’s shyness, finally making a return even through the rum.

If he didn’t get off this bed soon—no—if he didn’t get out of this room now, his desire would snap. Hongjoong had to clench his hands to stop himself from dragging Seonghwa’s wrists away.

But Seonghwa did it himself, resting his arms above his head on the pillow with a flop. Then he sighed, staring up at Hongjoong and licking his lips as he did it. The image cycled in Hongjoong’s head, over and over, and suddenly Hongjoong felt like the ground beneath him had run out.

“Will you kiss me?” Seonghwa asked, voice so pleased with it.

Hongjoong groaned at the question. The words, delivered sweetly, were a knife slicing the last tie around Hongjoong’s control. Thoughtlessly, he obeyed.

Seonghwa moaned into Hongjoong’s mouth at the touch. Hongjoong swallowed it down, slipping his tongue in Seonghwa’s mouth to finally take a taste of the drink that had him flushed so desperately.

It was sweet like Seonghwa. His mouth was already so wet, and Hongjoong set upon drawing out as many little moans and sighs of pleasure as he could.

He could read Seonghwa now, to see what he liked and didn’t like. He was always rewarded with sounds of approval when he did his job right. But now, at ease from the rum, Seonghwa made more noises than he usually did.

Sucking Seonghwa’s lip between both of Hongjoong’s earned him a high pitched whine. Ghosting his tongue on the inside of Seonghwa’s lower lip resulted in something lower. And repositioning himself from where he was leaning over to laying on top of Seonghwa’s warm, unconsciously shifting body drew out a satisfied sigh.

Seonghwa felt boneless underneath him. It made Hongjoong feel full, to have this trusting, melting Seonghwa in his bed and resting on his pillow. He set his mouth on Seonghwa’s, kissing so deeply he thought he might get tipsy from the rum he had to be licking out of him.

Hongjoong could feel Seonghwa getting hard, but he was in no rush. He was already satisfied just taking what he wanted from Seonghwa’s mouth, knowing from Seonghwa’s little cries and whimpers that it made him feel so good.

Already, Hongjoong’s stomach was filling with heat. But it wasn’t like that first time that he’d taken Seonghwa. That had been an unquenchable fire that burned him with an invisible brand he still carried under his skin.

This was a special heat, red-hot and low at the same time, like a pile of firewood that had burned down to white coals and had an orange light glowing from the inside. It was a flameless, searing heat.

He thought he might melt into Seonghwa. He licked inside Seonghwa’s lips, against Seonghwa’s tongue, always drawing Seonghwa deeper even though his prince’s mouth was still clumsy from the rum.

It only made the kiss better. Having Seonghwa’s jaw so relaxed, his mouth opening shamelessly wide and closing just as Hongjoong guided him, made Hongjoong’s body burn and fingers desperate to grab more skin.

Hongjoong finally broke them apart, taking a deep breath as he watched Seonghwa pant lightly below him. “Seonghwa,” he whispered, voice like a plea. “Can I make you feel even better?”

He almost hoped Seonghwa would say no. Seonghwa’s cheeks were flushed with a dark pink that spread from his cheekbones to the tips of his ears. His skin glimmered and the sight of his chest rising and falling from his effort to catch his breath caught Hongjoong like a siren song.

“You can do anything to me,” Seonghwa breathed, and Hongjoong felt blood rushing in his ears at the words.

He lowered his head to mouth at Seonghwa’s jaw. “Prince,” he cooed into Seonghwa’s skin. “You can’t give me permission like that.” He mouthed down Seonghwa’s neck, sucking little bruises into the damp skin as he went. “I won’t be able to stop myself.”

Seonghwa’s hand came up to the back of Hongjoong’s head and tangled in his hair. “I don’t want you to stop.”

Hongjoong couldn’t stop the little moan that fell from his lips and onto Seonghwa’s collarbone. “As you wish, my prince,” he said. Then he gave Seonghwa’s neck one last open-mouthed kiss and set upon undressing them.

It seemed to have comforted Seonghwa on their first night to keep some of his clothing on until the last moment. But Seonghwa was much more comfortable now, even if he never wanted to admit it, and he needed to show Seonghwa everything he could experience.

So after he took his silver tin from the bedside drawer, he relieved himself of his shirt and did the same for Seonghwa. He was immediately rewarded with the sight of the blush blooming across Seonghwa’s chest. But it was more difficult to remove Seonghwa’s pants, because he kept wiggling on the bed and laughing when Hongjoong tried to lift his hips up. Hongjoong rested his forehead on Seonghwa’s hip bone for a moment as he let the smile take over his face.

But he finally managed to take Seonghwa’s pants off, and his own joined them on the ground next to the bed. The image of Seonghwa underneath him, all bare skin and shifting on the sheets out of gentle shyness from Hongjoong’s gaze, struck Hongjoong like a physical blow.

He had no clue how Seonghwa could still be shy. But it sent a lick of fire through his stomach anyway.

He lowered himself down so that he covered Seonghwa’s body with his own. He returned to pressing open-mouthed kisses to Seonghwa’s collarbones, adding bites and tonguing at the sting in hopes of drawing more little mewls and sighs out of Seonghwa’s wet mouth.

He traced his way down Seonghwa’s chest, tasting the skin and feeling his fingers buzz with what he was about to do. Seonghwa’s hands came up again to card through Hongjoong’s hair, and they followed him as he delved farther down to Seonghwa’s stomach and then just above his cock.

“Ah,” Seonghwa cried out, evidently realizing only then what Hongjoong was planning. “That–” he panted. “That–”

Hongjoong gave him the gentlest shush he could manage. “That’s alright, Seonghwa,” he said, stomach twisting in anticipation. He was Seonghwa’s first in everything, his only in everything. Even still, he had done this so few times. It overwhelmed Seonghwa so deeply. “You’ll be alright, I promise. I keep my promises, don’t I?”

“Yes,” Seonghwa breathed. He had his eyes closed, but his hands were still holding onto Hongjoong’s hair. From this angle, Hongjoong could see his chest rising and falling so clearly.

Hongjoong turned his sight back to his prize. He was kneeling between Seonghwa’s legs and had his hands on Seonghwa’s hips. His fingers were pressing into his hip bones, then releasing the pressure and tracing over where the skin flushed with color from the pressure. He did it over and over, but then he took one hand to grip Seonghwa.

The touch sent a little zip through Seonghwa, it seemed, who let out a gasp.

Hongjoong smiled, then took Seonghwa’s tip into his mouth and pressed his tongue flat against the underside.

That sent something much more powerful through Seonghwa. He cried out, and his hands tightened in Hongjoong’s hair.

It wasn’t nearly enough for Hongjoong. He took Seonghwa in deeper, sinking down slowly, all the way so that his lips met his hand, which was wrapped around the base of Seonghwa’s cock. Seonghwa’s hands tugged and he brought his legs up, bending his knees.

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa moaned, and it sent still more heat through his burning body.

Hongjoong couldn’t coo at his prince like this, so he gave a little moan of his own and savored Seonghwa shuddering under him.

Then he drew his head back, dragging his tongue up and letting his hand trace where his mouth had been. A long groan was spilling out of Seonghwa, but Hongjoong didn’t stop. He pumped his hand up and down, slowly but with a grip tight enough he knew he’d give Seonghwa a taste of the madness he’d been fighting since Seonghwa had returned to their quarters. Then he mouthed at Seonghwa’s tip, tongue heavy with a teasing insistence.

Finally, after he sensed Seonghwa’s sanity was dissipating, he stopped moving his hand and sucked.

“Ah!” Seonghwa cried. Hongjoong could see that his cheeks were totally red and, even from halfway down his body, that his lips were trembling. “J-Joong,” he panted, his hips starting to kick up.

Hongjoong pulled off to tease. “Hold still, Prince,” he said, moving his hands so he could grip Seonghwa’s hips firmly. “You have to let me give this to you,” he added, in a repeat of the words he’d spoken so long ago, on one of their first nights. Then he sucked Seonghwa in his mouth again, deeper this time, and worked a stream of distressed whimpers and sighs and moans out of him.

With Seonghwa trembling and burning hot underneath him, Hongjoong found himself kicking his own hips against the bed. Seonghwa made him so hard, and his desire was so heavy in his stomach.

Hongjoong didn’t think Seonghwa would last very long like this, and especially not with the rum still in his blood. So he let one of Seonghwa’s hips go and felt around the bed sheets for the tin, managing to untwist it with only one hand.

After he wet his fingers, he shifted so that he could reach behind Seonghwa. He started with one finger, drawing a slow, wet line from just behind Seonghwa’s balls to his rim, and with it spilled a thrilling groan out of Seonghwa’s mouth.

It went to Hongjoong’s cock, and his own moan was muffled with Seonghwa in his mouth.

He teased at Seonghwa’s rim as he played with his head. Seonghwa’s arousal had relaxed him so much that his finger slipped in with ease, and Hongjoong curled it inside. He wanted to make this part fast, intent on making as many of the images in his head real as he could.

Seonghwa let go of Hongjoong’s head, apparently too overwhelmed to keep up the strength needed to grip his hair. Instead he drew his arms up and rested his hands above his head on the pillow.

Hongjoong dipped another finger inside Seonghwa, dragging the pads of his fingers along in an effort to find the spot that he knew would earn him another cry.

He found it, and let Seonghwa fall from his mouth so he could focus on working more sounds out of Seonghwa with his hand.

Hongjoong dotted Seonghwa’s bare hip with kisses as his fingers traced tiny patterns inside him. It was thrilling to turn Seonghwa into an overwhelmed, breathy mess with only the smallest little drags and touches of his fingers.

Seonghwa, for his part, took gasping breaths and wet his lips with a swipe of his tongue. Hongjoong had the urge to taste him again, but he resisted it to finish what he was doing.

When he felt Seonghwa was relaxed enough that entering him would bring only pleasure, Hongjoong gently withdrew his fingers and climbed back up Seonghwa’s body.

He gave him a brief kiss, just enough to bring him back, and danced his hands along Seonghwa’s side until he could grip at his waist. “Will you follow me?” he whispered, knowing it was pointless. Instead of waiting for an answer, he pulled Seonghwa and flipped them over.

Seonghwa hadn’t been expecting the move, and he flopped fully on top of Hongjoong. The press of hot skin and the weight of Seonghwa on him had Hongjoong shutting his eyes and letting out a deep breath. But Seonghwa was squirming, sending friction between them, and Hongjoong opened his eyes again to take control.

“Can you get on your knees for me?” he asked, bringing a hand up to finally trace at one of Seonghwa’s eyebrows. “I need you to do this for me,” he said, because Seonghwa was still taking shallow little breaths, his recovery apparently making it hard to follow any instructions.

So Hongjoong helped him. He pulled at one of Seonghwa’s legs, then the other, setting him into a kneeling position over him. Seonghwa was resting most of his body weight on his knees and his ass, which pressed with great torment into Hongjoong.

Seonghwa’s eyes were shining and the flush on his skin called out for Hongjoong to stare at his face for eternity, to lose himself in his prince’s beauty. But that would be very selfish.

Still, he couldn’t resist giving Seonghwa another kiss, letting his lips part before closing them against Seonghwa’s. Their lips caught against each other, and Hongjoong let his tongue brush lazily against Seonghwa’s lower lip so that it would shine.

“Can you do something to help me?” Hongjoong asked, mouth already curving in a smile at how Seonghwa would act.

Seonghwa tilted his head. He spoke with a pout, so slight he couldn’t have realized he was doing it. “What do I do?”

Hongjoong bit down on his lip to fight the smile. “I need you to raise your hips a little bit,” he said, hands already there to help. He held him gently as Seonghwa tried. “A little more,” Hongjoong said, feet slipping over the bed so he could let Seonghwa rest some of his weight on Hongjoong’s thighs.

Then Seonghwa was really pouting. “I can’t.” He dropped his head so his forehead rested on Hongjoong’s shoulder. “I’m drunk.”

Hongjoong laughed. “I know, Seonghwa.” He gave Seonghwa the tiniest pinch to his hip. Not enough to hurt, just enough to make him move.

It worked, and Seonghwa raised his hips up, but not without letting out a little whine. “Perfect,” Hongjoong purred, and he let go of Seonghwa’s hip to guide himself inside.

Seonghwa’s little whine turned into a loud one as his meager strength melted away, leaving him to sink down helplessly on Hongjoong in one motion. “Hongjoong,” he panted, his breath warm and damp against Hongjoong’s shoulder.

“That’s what I want,” Hongjoong whispered, pushing his hips up gently to meet Seonghwa and getting another whimper for it. “You’re exactly what I want.”

He rolled his hips again, struggling to stop himself from flipping them over and driving into Seonghwa with abandon. But it was too fun to tease Seonghwa, to take it slow. “Can you stay up for me, my prince?”

Seonghwa tried. His knees slipped against the silk sheets and he placed a hand on either side of Hongjoong’s shoulders to help hold himself up. But it was sloppy, and he couldn’t help but sway, even as he rested so much of his weight on Hongjoong.

It sent heat rushing through Hongjoong, from his stomach to the tips of his fingers and all through his mind. It was as if Seonghwa had spread his intoxication to Hongjoong just from the taste of the remainder of the rum in his mouth. Hongjoong felt the same haze in his mind, the same inability to focus on anything but Seonghwa’s red lips, as he would if he’d downed an entire bottle.

Hongjoong sped his pace in the hopes it would overwhelm Seonghwa because he so desperately wanted to see him cry. Seonghwa still had his head down, and Hongjoong could feel him panting harder against his skin. He thrust up, not harshly but still faster than he usually did to Seonghwa, over and over and over.

A stream of little cries and whimpers spilled from Seonghwa with every thrust. Hongjoong brought his thighs up still more to give him more leverage, intent on dragging Seonghwa to incoherency.

Hongjoong’s thrusts up into Seonghwa jostled him up and down Hongjoong’s body. “Ha– I– I can’t do it,” Seonghwa stuttered out, finally raising his head shakily.

His cheeks were flushed so red Hongjoong thought it had to burn. Even better, his eyes were shining with unspilled tears. Hongjoong cooed at him, satisfaction a twist in his stomach. “You can do it, Prince,” he said, his hands drifting up from Seonghwa’s hips to his waist and giving him a squeeze. “You’re doing it so well. Just keep rocking like that, Seonghwa.”

He used his grip on Seonghwa’s waist to help Seonghwa bounce back and forth in time with his thrusts. He was glad he’d taken so much from the silver tin, because Seonghwa was starting to drip with wetness and blinding heat.

“Ah!” Seonghwa cried. His face was a sweet mess of blush and sweat, brow creased in focus and mouth open in pleasure.

But Hongjoong’s unbreaking pace seemed to finally become too much for Seonghwa. Suddenly, his waist slipped out of Hongjoong’s grasp, and Seonghwa collapsed against him. “I can’t do it,” he said again, and this time Hongjoong had mercy on him.

“Alright, Seonghwa,” he whispered, white pleasure receding from the edges of his vision as he slowed. His hands traced the damp skin from Seonghwa’s waist to his back. Then he flipped them over, taking a moment to settle Seonghwa’s head on the pillow and give him a kiss.

Then Hongjoong sat back on his knees, intending to give it to him the way that he knew Seonghwa liked so much. But Seonghwa reached his hands out and clumsily gripped Hongjoong’s wrists. “Closer,” he breathed. “I want you closer.”

“Alright,” Hongjoong said again through a smile. Seonghwa was too sweet for Hongjoong to deny him another thing tonight.

Hongjoong settled himself over Seonghwa, using one forearm next to Seonghwa’s head to balance so that he could hook his other hand behind Seonghwa’s knee and push his thigh up. Like this, there was nothing stopping Hongjoong from burying himself inside.

He thrust deeply into Seonghwa, keeping his pace from before and watching it melt Seonghwa from the inside out.

Seonghwa had struggled just to keep himself on top of Hongjoong, but with his body safely on the bed, it freed him to sloppily roll against Hongjoong’s hips. He tried to meet Hongjoong’s thrusts but kept missing the pace.

It was that fumbling earnestness that sent Hongjoong’s stomach tensing and the heat in his groin blazing. The need to serve Seonghwa took over, the need to grab hold of his body and fill him with even a fraction of the heat he burned into Hongjoong.

Hongjoong captured Seonghwa’s mouth. He did his best to overwhelm Seonghwa, to finally drive him into relief, and he let go of his leg so he could wrap his hand around Seonghwa’s cock and stroke him in time with his heavy thrusts.

Seonghwa moaned openly into Hongjoong’s mouth, sweet as the rum and as easy to swallow down. He worked him through it, breathed in Seonghwa’s gasps and focused totally on Seonghwa’s pleasure to stave off the release of his own.

Finally, though, Seonghwa’s body loosened, and when he opened his eyes tears rolled down his temples. The sight of it struck the deepest part of Hongjoong, who groaned low and deep as he finally gave himself over to the inferno Seonghwa conjured up inside him so effortlessly.

His hips thrust unconsciously, his body wanting to trace as much of Seonghwa for as long as he could. When Hongjoong came back to himself, he realized his hands had skittered across Seonghwa’s skin to pull and tease. Seonghwa was watching him, eyes half-closed from the rum and the bliss.

“I think you’re beautiful, too,” Seonghwa said, in an echo of what Hongjoong had said to him.

The smile spread so easily over Hongjoong’s face.

Then Seonghwa pouted, but he didn’t look upset. Just contemplative.

“What is it, my prince?” Hongjoong asked, lowering his head to brush his lips over Seonghwa’s neck as he pulled out.

Hongjoong ignored the twist in his stomach when Seonghwa let out a quiet, high-pitched noise at the loss.

When Hongjoong had settled them both on their sides, Seonghwa’s back against his chest and wrapped safely in his arms, Seonghwa spoke again. “Next time, you’re going to be the drunk one.”

Hongjoong smiled again into the nape of Seonghwa’s neck. He so very much liked that spot. “As you wish, my prince,” he said, already feeling Seonghwa’s body relax as he drifted off to sleep. “Anything for you.”

—

No one called Seonghwa the Crescent Prince anymore. That was a name that died long ago.

The name took memories with it. Memories of the pain and fear Seonghwa felt roaming the kingdom and trapped in strange brigs. They were replaced with the smell of saltwater and the crack of thunder over a dark ocean. Seonghwa traveled the world and had Hongjoong at his side for it all.

But, in exchange, Seonghwa gained two new names for the loss of his old one.

Both of them were familiar, created over dinner on the gun deck by people who’d known the future as easily as Seonghwa knew the phases of the moon.

The first new name was often heard on deck. It was always spoken with good nature, because he was part of the crew, and it spread through the port towns and islands and rocky coves to which they sailed. No matter what Seonghwa wore, he was always recognized, and he heard the awed whispers of the Prince of the Desire wherever they went.

The second name was for Seonghwa’s ears only. He’d earned it, and there was no mistaking what was said.

Late at night, when he and Hongjoong were the only people on the ocean, he would hear it fall with love from Hongjoong’s lips: the Captain’s Prince.