Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Alchemy softens Minhyuk’s heart, somehow. With the garden blooming beautifully, the most diverse flowers come together in a way that even the king and queen congratulate Hyungwon for taking such good care of them, believing they blossomed only due the slave’s way with the earth and not from alchemy.

This reaches Hoseok’s ears, of course, who reassures Hyungwon when he asks if the queen has any idea that it might be his responsibility.

“No”, the other slave responds. “She does not know there are these subdivisions of earth alchemy. For her, you just have a lot of talent, and Minhyuk lucked out in choosing you for him. She is almost jealous.”

Hyungwon smiles, relieved.

The only thing that doesn’t alleviate it’s his cough, the pain in the chest and throat.

He doesn’t notice the petals falling from his own mouth when works in the garden. He disguises the cough with a cloth, which he always folds without checking – because who would, if you don’t know you’re sick? –, placing it inside his pants pockets when is fulfilling his task of keeping Minhyuk company in the throne room and on other errands. In the morning, when he wakes up and finds his bed full of white petals stained with red, he believes he’s so happy to be able to practice his alchemy again that has been doing it even in his sleep.

There’s no time to think about himself; just like the sun, Minhyuk draws all the light and attention, and Hyungwon, the perpetual sunflower, just has to be content with living around him, absorbing such heat.

When it completes a year and a half since Hyungwon became a slave, Minhyuk asks, his hands dirty with soil and petunias in his lap dirtying his tunic, if Hyungwon likes it here.

He means the palace, the kingdom, but most of all, being on his side.

It’s not something Hyungwon thought the prince would worry about; after all, he’s a slave. What he wants or likes doesn’t matter, or at least shouldn’t.

“Living is every sacrifice made in your name”, he replies with a sarcastic smile, and Minhyuk laughs, placing a flower in Hyungwon’s ear, as if such a statement didn’t have more weight than both of them can handle.

🌠

It’s almost the halfway through summer again when Hyungwon wakes up in the middle of the night to an annoying noise, sharp as glass being hit. It was already difficult to fall asleep due to the cough, almost as if he was drowning in himself, so he feels like screaming in frustration even though can’t when Khalil licks his face to help him wake up, thankfully not barking.

“What in the world—” He frowns, passing one of his open hands over his face and scratching his eye until remembers his mother always scolded him for doing that. Instead, he strokes behind Khalil’s ears. “What’s wrong? Haven’t you noticed I can’t sleep anymore and you still come and wake me up?”

The wolf-dog goes to the window and places a paw there, almost as if understands the question.

“What happened? The window is closed to keep out mosquitoes. Are you hot?”

Khalil insists, huffing.

Hyungwon sighs, or at least tries. He coughs against the sleeve of his sleeping vest and gets up with some difficulty, still a little dazed from sleep, and walks to the window.

“Crazy dog. You’ve never done this before”, Hyungwon tells him, Khalil looking at him with huge, black, glowing eyes. How could such a creature be so enormous but so docile at the same time? “Saw anything outside? There are no squirrels in that tree.”

As soon as he opens the window, the answer comes in a naturally hoarse voice that steals all the remaining sleep in Hyungwon’s body, a person he could recognize even in the complete darkness of the night, only the moon illuminating them.

“Maybe not a squirrel but his real owner”, Minhyuk smiles, leaning over the window sill.

Hyungwon is frozen, staring at him with wide eyes and half-open mouth. He feels all the tiredness drain from his body, at least momentarily, his body becoming warmer and cheeks flushing.

“Minhyuk?! H-How did you get here?”

“With my own two feet”, Minhyuk replies, extending an arm. “Will you not invite me in?”

Hyungwon hurriedly grabs the prince and pulls him inside, even though the effort makes him cough to the point of having to bend over, hand resting on his knees while the sleeve of his sleeping vest covers his mouth.

Minhyuk, busy hugging Khalil, doesn’t pay much attention to it but still asks, “Are you alright?”

“Yes. Just… Just tired. It’s the allergies.”

“Oh yes”, Minhyuk smiles, and pets him a little more aggressively, moving Khalil’s head from both sides while the dog tries to lick him. “You are making my favorite slave sick, do you know?”

“Don’t blame him”, Hyungwon laughs, sitting up in bed and taking in a long breath, as much as he can. “After all, what are you doing here? How did you go up one floor—why would you do such?”

“I want to talk to you. Simply. And your window is not that high, the wall is uneven”, Minhyuk says, getting up and walking over to the bed as well, sitting comfortably like Hyungwon would never have the luxury of doing on the prince’s bed. Everything is his, literally and completely. He behaves as if it was a favor to be there. “I can climb.”

“You only don’t know how to swim”, Hyungwon teases, watching as the prince runs his hands over the sleeping vest and removes any dust from them. “How did you know where my bedroom is?”

“Forgot I was the one who put you here? And you are a heavy sleeper, apparently.”

“Oh. Yes”, Hyungwon agrees, but doesn’t tell him that it was better, that he was able to rest more. Fatigue returns, now that the glow of such an apparition diminishes. “So… You wanted to see me? Are you alright? Did you leave your chambers just like this? What did you tell the guards?”

Minhyuk shrugs, nonchalant, walking in the direction of the bed. “Nothing. I do not owe them explanations, they are there to serve me.”

“But…” Hyungwon almost loses his train of thought, watching how Minhyuk leans against the wall and only his feet stick out of the mattress, exactly how happens to him.

“They have been there for years, they are good at keeping secrets”, Minhyuk says, looking around. Khalil follows, waving his tail excitedly, and he extends his hands so the dog stays on his back feet, Minhyuk kissing his forehead. He wasn’t this affectionate with the dog before. “Also, it is not like I do not leave my chambers in the middle of the night for personal purposes.”

Hyungwon feels his face warming more at such an implication, but shakes his head. “Should I light a candle?” He asks instead, and Minhyuk confirms verbally, since in the dark there are only shadows to distinguish. “But you aren’t here for any… Huh, a personal purpose.”

You’re not even dressed like you do for others, Hyungwon thinks.

“Of course not”, Minhyuk chuckles, but doesn’t sound sincere. There’s something bothering him, and with the candle lit, now Hyungwon can actually see worry lines on the prince’s handsome face.

“What happened?” He asks, sitting gingerly by the end of the bed, some distance between them even if this is where Hyungwon sleeps.

“I did not tell you?”

“No.”

“Well.” Minhyuk sighs. He gently pats the mattress and Khalil climbs up as if weren’t half wolf and places himself between the two men, Hyungwon almost falling to the floor. “Earlier today, during the private audience my father requested. It was about marriage, of course.”

The king requested the prince’s presence right after the royal family broke fast, and all the company slaves were left out; inside the room only the royal couple, the top advisors and the priest. Minhyuk returned after more than an hour, rivers of tears running down his cheeks showing flushed skin beneath the white paint. Hyungwon didn’t dare to ask at the time, since Minhyuk shouted at a slave who volunteered to redo his makeup, and dismissed everyone for the entire day, not even showing up for other meals.

Having nothing to do, since a slave’s life revolves around a bright golden god who disappeared after a turbulent eclipse, Hyungwon spent the afternoon with Hoseok and other palace slaves, playing games, talking and taking care of the garden alone. This last activity, however, made him feel great emptiness; what was the point of so much splendor and beautiful flowering if its main reason for existenting wasn’t around?

“I noticed you were irritated”, Hyungwon says in a low voice, observing Minhyuk while he caresses Khalil’s head. “What… what did he say? If you can tell me.”

“‘Irritated’ is being kind. I was furious. Livid. It is no state secret. You will find out anyway, but I want you to know from my mouth.”

Hyungwon raises his eyebrows. “…Alright? What is it, then?”

Minhyuk doesn’t answer immediately. He continues to caress and make funny faces to Khalil, but Hyungwon doesn’t repeat the question because he knows he was heard. There are rare times where Minhyuk doesn’t immediately share his thoughts in an effusive manner, so this must be important.

“Apparently they got tired of waiting for me to choose a suitor and choose them themselves.”

Hyungwon hums. “This means that…”

“They scheduled a meeting. Since I will be king and she—” Minhyuk makes a disgusted face, “—is the second in her lineage, it is the family that must visit us.”

“And this means you should, obligatorily, marry her?”

Hyungwon isn’t surprised. In fact, he already expected something along these lines; the prince played with luck and the obligation of his duty as perpetuator of the throne for a long time, probably long before Hyungwon even arrived in the Eastern Gold Alchemy Kingdom, and there would inevitably be a time when they’d get angered by his procrastination.

“Apparently, yes.” Minhyuk sighs heavily again, rolling his eyes up. “Only if I am able to find a terrible flaw, which will not happen to the person in question.”

“Why?”

“Because she is a fire alchemist. She will be defective anyway.”

Hyungwon’s eyebrows raise to his hairline, cleaning his throat in vain. It’s even funny, such an absurdity. “Don’t say something like this.”

“I think it was even on purpose, you know—”, Minhyuk ignores, lifting both of Khalil’s ears and moving them back and forth, eyes never meeting Hyungwon’s. “—that they chose a fire alchemist. This way I could not complain about her appearance.”

“But is she a practitioner?”

“I do not know. The only thing I was told was the type of alchemy.”

“Perhaps she isn’t. Maybe you can use this as justification, that you don’t want to marry a person who isn’t an alchemist like you.”

Minhyuk side-eyes his slave, serious, but opens a small smile, as if happy with such an effort of trying to think of something to reject the suitor. “I had not thought about that. It is a good idea. But if I am being honest I do not care where her skin is burned. It could be the whole body, she could be made of pure coal – I do not want to get married, Hyungwon.”

“I know”, Hyungwon nods, tapping Khalil’s head gently, now on his lap. Minhyuk does the same, and for a while they’re quiet, Hyungwon paying attention to the prince and the prince lost in thoughts like rarely does, something bad enough to shut him up.

Khalil seems to feel the weight of the environment and licks Minhyuk’s hand, whines in a quiet and pained way as if asking what is happening.

“He wasn’t affectionate like this”, the prince comments, scrunching his nose while booping it against his dog’s. “I mean, at least I never noticed.”

“You weren’t affectionate with him either. But he’s very docile. I used to be afraid because of his size, but I was once told that a dog that barks doesn’t bite”, Hyungwon says, but instead of changing the subject as Minhyuk probably desired, he hears himself asking, “But would you marry a man, even if it was an arranged marriage?”

Another pause. “Men cannot get married. How come they would produce an heir?”

“You could… I don’t know.” Hyungwon flushes a bit, cleans his throat. “If there are two different alchemists, isn’t there a risk that the child won’t be born a pure gold alchemist?”

“My alchemy, particularly, is hereditary. Just having a father or mother who is a gold alchemist is enough. But it is better when both are, obviously”, Minhyuk explains, sighing tiredly, although there is no annoyance in his voice. “It can be learned, but there is no way to master it perfectly. It is not like the fire, the earth and vital variants – even though vital is so complicated it is almost impossible to learn.”

“So…” Hyungwon flushes a bit, cleans his throat. “You could do it… like it was done to you. Having another gold alchemist have a child with this woman. Or take two gold alchemists and adopt their son.”

“The purpose of these marriages is to secure the bloodline – and I agree with that. If I adopt a person, I do not know their background. They could try to kill me to get the throne.”

“As if sons didn’t kill their fathers or any other relative”, Hyungwon argues, and Minhyuk shrugs, like he doesn’t care and won’t change his mind. “But I’m not saying men can marry each other. I know they can’t. I’m asking if in a hypothetical world, would you?”

“Sure”, the prince answers immediately, raising his head to stare at Hyungwon, but after a second lowering it again. “Well, it depends. Only if it was a man my age, more or less. Ten years older at most. Could not be a child, obviously. And if he was handsome, and a nice body that I could appreciate. Ah, if he liked—” He looks at Hyungwon, squints his eyes, as if analyzing something. “You would not understand. But he should not have the same preferences as me, because I only like one—” he makes a vague gesture, but Hyungwon understands it’s related to sex, “—thing.”

In another situation he’d be more explicit. Now, however, the slave is both curious and grateful for not receiving too much information.

“I believe it would be easier, even with all your criteria. There are many young suitors out there. You know this.”

“But I am not young anymore. At least not by matchmaker standards.” Minhyuk presses his lips together, raises his head, his eyebrows curve in despair and he sighs loudly, suffering. It’s a complete turn, from water to wine: “Ah, Hyungwon, I am so unhappy! I do not want to get married! You talking about me marrying a man makes me wish I was a woman instead! I refuse to get close to a woman, I would rather—”

The tears fall, fat and gross. Khalil raises his head, worried, and lets out a soft sigh of confusion.

Minhyuk is crying. Hyungwon doesn’t know how to react.

Sadness and suffering don’t suit the price. To him belongs laughter, the strong and resounding cry, disdain, sarcasm and lack of concern, of true responsibilities. Hyungwon has become accustomed to the savagery of his thoughts, impulsiveness and sadism – and these may not be the noblest of qualities, but they are what make up the prince Hyungwon has grown to be fond of.

This confuses him. He never acknowledged he actually appreciates the prince.

“I know that not all women will hurt me – many do not even have the strength to do so, now that I am a grown adult, but still!” Minhyuk continues, hands in front of him as he speaks, staring at his lap. “I do not desire them, I do not want them around, I do not feel comfortable with them! I cannot imagine marrying one, receiving blessings from the Divinity and having to swear something that will never happen, because I would rather you kill me now than have to become king!”

And of all the surprises that living at the service of someone like Minhyuk brings, perhaps this is the biggest: hearing from his mouth he doesn’t want to be king, because to become he has to marry a woman and, obviously, bed her. It’s weird specifically because he’s quirky in the way only someone from the nobility has the excuse to be.

“And I tried—” Minhyuk sobs, shoulders shaking, “—I tried to reason with them. No swearing, no shouting. I really tried. Because until then I was throwing tantrums and being explicit and vulgar, even though I do not care at all what they think of me, but now it is bordering on despair. Nothing worked. Fucking princes, counts, sons of whoever, advisors, slaves from the most diverse tribes; it did nothing to convince them otherwise. And now there is no going back!”

Hyungwon’s heart beats fast, the pain he’s growing familiar to morphing into something different, into Minhyuk’s pain.

“And why did you think it would work?” He tries to ask as carefully as possible, not to anger Minhyuk more. “Did you think that by being explicit in your tastes, you’d no longer need to get married? You’re the only heir.”

“I know!” Minhyuk turns to Hyungwon, wiping his tears and snot in the back of his hand. “I have known this since I was born, since I was still covered in blood and had barely breathed my first breath. I always had to do everything others tell me, my life is meticulously coordinated to please the wishes of other people who are not royalty like me! And I know I should not complain because I still do everything I want, but I wished I had a different say! I wish I was not born the way I am, that I did not have to go through everything I do. I have this ridiculous, utopian, impossible fantasy of being an ordinary man, living with a caravan, not having to worry about anything but where I would rest my head at night!” He sarcastically laughs, and it’s so painful that tears well up in Hyungwon’s eyes too. “I wanted someone who was like me. Do you understand?”

Hyungwon doesn’t. “A… man?”

“Do not be obtuse!” Minhyuk shakes his head, voice thick with emotion, pressing the base of his hands against his eyes. “I mean, yes, but a woman who was like me. Who did not want a husband. Who did not like men! She would sleep with me only on the first night and could have as many lovers as she wanted, leaving me alone to be able to have my life.”

The words make Hyungwon want to cough, but he feels it’ll turn into a fit and this isn’t the best time to do so. He just nods.

“I do not know how long it takes for a woman to get pregnant, but if she did it after the honeymoon it would be perfect, because we would never have to be around each other again in any way… Well, I would have to put up with her until the end of my life, but at least not be with her sexually ever again.” The prince scoffs. “I am talking like I would be able to get hard and cum inside her, but anyway—”

Hyungwon grimaces as hears such vulgarities. There are no mincing words for Minhyuk; this is also part of his unrestricted inner child that constantly manifests.

“Could it be, Hyungwon?” Minhyuk then asks, reaching for Hyungwon’s hands, holding it like a lifeline. Now there’s more despair and less sadness in his face. “Am I condemned to suffer for the rest of my life?”

“No”, Hyungwon immediately says, a little taken aback by the sudden touch. He never knew how to console anyone. “Of course not. You have your whole life ahead of you, you can’t give up like this.”

Minhyuk cries, bending over, letting go of the slave and hiding his face in the fur on the back of Khalil’s neck. The choked voice comes out muffled: “But I do not want to continue to live if I have to do what others tell me!”

Hyungwon tries, but can’t hold back his laughter, after hearing such illogicality. A prince rejecting the throne just because he has to marry a woman?

He covers it with a cough, forgetting to hold it back, and turns to the opposite side, feeling something falling on his hand. A few petals, but he doesn’t understand why. Had he made them from his own tears?

“Isn’t—isn’t this what a prince does?” He says after coughing, feeling a tad bit more tired. His shoulders hurt, like he’s carrying a weight over them. “You live for the people.”

Minhyuk shakes his head, more violently than needed, but Khalil doesn’t move, his attentive ears up and watching Hyungwon’s reaction, to know what to do or not.  “Now you are the one thinking unrealistically”, he says.

“It’s what I thought a kingdom was”, he continues. He tries to talk, make Minhyuk distracted by what Hyungwon knows he does best; but then realizes there’s something even more effective than speaking.

Touching the prince softly, the trembling right hand he never managed to recover one hundred percent, he caresses his back – feels the muscles, the spine, the ribs and the skin’s warmth under his fingers, the long hair braided and messy running down it. There’s a certain humanity that comes from this fragility Hyungwon never tires of admiring, of looking forward to seeing every time, of remembering at random moments of the day when Minhyuk has his face painted white and orders people of all kinds to satisfy his wishes.

Could it be that because the prince is not a sole individual, he no longer sees anyone as one?

Something inside Hyungwon heats up. It’s like eating broth on a cold day, a hot bath in winter. Along with this, the desire to cough again; he doesn’t hold it back, does it without taking his eyes off Minhyuk.

The prince raises his head with the noise, the violence of the coughs; watches something, confusion imprinted in his face while the tears never cease to fall. Hyungwon turns to the side to be more comfortable in closing his eyes, his back and lungs hurting, but the left-hand reaches for Minhyuk’s face without hesitation, both from him, both from the prince who moves forward to be touched. Hyungwon feels the wetness on his fingers’ pads, his insides warming up even more when realizes there’s some trust between them – a quiet exclamation, then, and he turns back when pink camellias sprout from where the tears used to fall.

Minhyuk is too amazed to continue, just watching flower after flower emerge from his eyes. They fall beautifully on his lap, and Khalil eats a few, confusedly grunting, shaking his head as doesn’t like the flavor.

“I will never cease to be impressed”, Minhyuk whispers and, to Hyungwon’s heart relief, smiles. “You make it look so easy.”

“I hope not. You said you like surprises”, the slave smiles. “Well, it is easy. You also turn everything into gold and it seems effortless.”

Minhyuk chuckles, wet and hiccupping, wiping more tears Hyungwon continues to transform into camellias. Soon it’s like a carpet of flowers on the mattress and their laps. The prince touches one and it instantly loses the pink, becoming rigid and golden. A flower like that would be worth a million things on the village’s market, yet Minhyuk has it at his disposal as he wants, like he has Hyungwon and an entire kingdom.

“Do you think I could buy my freedom with all this?” Hyungwon jokes then. There are some petals on the bed too, white and red ones, which Minhyuk touches and also turns into gold. They’re so delicate they could become jewelry.

“Most likely, but I hope you never do.” And such is Minhyuk’s sincerity that it surprises even himself; he quickly amends, after Hyungwon’s bemused laugh, “Because I have never before met someone like you. Never before has anyone listened to all my complaints, my sufferings and the absurdities that come out of my mouth, someone who stays by my side and does not irritate me. Someone who makes me laugh at all times, even now, when I am sad in a way I have rarely felt before.” He looks down at the dog between them, who picks up one of the flowers and nibbles on it. He hears Hyungwon coughing again, but doesn’t see the petals coming off his mouth either. “Never before have I met a flower alchemist”, adds in a whisper.

“Y-you know that to have someone’s company, you don’t need to own them, right?” Hyungwon says. He has to repeat it, because the first time his voice was barely audible; hurts a lot to do so, throat like sandpaper. “There doesn’t need to be a reason to want to be around.”

“Sure”, Minhyuk rolls his eyes. He’s soon crying again, but no sobbing. “As if you would be here of your own free will.”

“I would”, Hyungwon immediately says, and immediately blushing because didn’t mean to be so sincere too.

It was no lie, though.

Minhyuk stares at him so intensely it’s like he’s the burning flame threatening to burn them alive. Flowers, gold, men and wolf-dog; melt everything. Hyungwon already feels like his insides are on fire, more than he feels when does alchemy.

Minhyuk snorts, somewhat incredulously. He looks down, presses a kiss on Khalil’s forehead, who snuzzles his face back. “You are just saying that to make me stop crying."

Hyungwon laughs too, not knowing what to do. It hurts even more to do so. “Well, yes. I don’t want you crying.”

“I never cry. Rarely. And much less in front of others”, Minhyuk sniffs. His face is still wet, but it makes him look so human, so achievable and real. The face behind the white mask – red, because it strangely looks like he’s… embarrassed? “Only now I realized. I also never came to the company slaves’ house, how absurd! I simply entered your room without asking permission, I disturbed your sleep—"

“I already said”, Hyungwon feels comfortable now to interrupt. “Living is every sacrifice made in your name.”

“Do not say something like this. You sound like you are on the verge of death because of me”, Minhyuk murmurs, frowning, pulling loose skin from his fingertips. Hyungwon had already noticed he used to pull them from time to time, especially when in the presence of his parents.

“I might die from exhaustion”, he keeps on with the jokes, even though the reaction he receives isn’t what he expected. In fact, Minhyuk likes surprises so much he never gets tired of surprising back. “But like you once told me, I belong to you, just like this entire land; so you can technically come in here any time you want.”

The prince finally raises his head and smiles; it’s a smile Hyungwon has never seen before in his life. It’s something he can’t even describe, but it shines like wealth, more than the flowers around them, more than the summer sun.

“I want to tell you a secret and ask you something.”

A prince doesn’t ask, he orders – but now in front of Hyungwon perhaps there is only a man like any other, flesh and blood, a beating heart inside a wounded child.

He nods.

“I am afraid of the dark. Can I sleep here with you?”

Hyungwon opens his mouth to answer, but instead coughs and coughs hard, harder than before. Minhyuk worries, Khalil raises his head, gets off the bed and stands next to Hyungwon, who uses the dog for support, almost falling off the bed.

He’s exhausted. His chest burns as if on fire.

“Hyungwon?” Minhyuk’s voice sounds a little desperate. Hyungwon tries to open his eyes, raises his hand to tell him he’s fine but can’t; there’s something in his throat, something that doesn’t allow him to breathe properly, that chokes him. “Hyungwon—talk to me. Hyungwon—calm down, I will get you water. You have to—” Minhyuk gets up from the bed, looks for a clay jar on a table in the corner of the room and immediately brings it to Hyungwon to drink; helps, and he bends over and coughs more to the point that he feels like he’s vomiting, his head is exploding so he can’t even open his eyes. “Oh, fucking—Hyungwon, can you breathe?”

After two entire minutes scary relief washes over him and he stops coughing, drenched in sweat.

“I’m—I’m fine”, he manages to say before faints for the second time in front of the prince.

He doesn’t see the tears falling again because Minhyuk doesn’t know what to do, if he’s alive or not; doesn’t see the prince laying him down on the bed, a care he never had with anyone else, nor when he snuggles against Hyungwon’s body, hugging him from behind, his head on the slave’s shoulder as he watches, waiting for more flowers will come out of him, wondering how such alchemy can do this.

🌠

The next day, Hyungwon wakes up breathing normally as if nothing had happened, better than the previous days. There are two striped carnations on the floor, their stems long, the petals open like a new bloom. He doesn’t remember having conjured them – but at the same time this isn’t the first time he has seen such a flower. More often than not he wakes up surrounded by its petals.

Anyway, there is no point in worrying about such trivial things Minhyuk is sleeping next to him, one of his fists clenched next to his head, one of his legs thrown over Hyungwon’s, an arm around his middle.

Hyungwon can barely move, heart caged in his chest desperate to get out and take flight.

He stays still for what feels like ages. Watches the sky change from dark blue to gray until the sun comes out – there’s still the need to cough but it’s lighter this time, overcome by the happiness of being like this, so close and hugged by Minhyuk. It’s not like Hyungwon is touch-starved; he’s never been much of a tactile person, but for some reason it fills him with happiness and pride and euphoria to be like this with Minhyuk, as if his hug was more special than all the others Hyungwon ever received.

This is certainly much more intimate than a night of carnal pleasure.

When the sun comes out, Hyungwon turns to wake Minhyuk gently, giving in first to the temptation to cup his cheeks and feel the bone beneath the skin, how serene he looks and how it still feels like a dream, having him this close. For a fraction of time he wishes he could have this vision forever.

When did the prince suddenly become so charming?

Of everyone in the world, with so many flaws, why is Hyungwon thinking such things out of nowhere?

Even if there is so much gold around them that it could buy his own freedom, as he joked, Hyungwon would truly remain by Minhyuk’s side, for as long as necessary and as long he wanted Hyungwon around. Before him, everything was so empty; he felt he’d never be anything, but as incredible as it may seem, it was only after belonging to someone he began to understand the purpose of life.

“Wake up”, he whispers, retracting his hand, putting distance enough their faces aren’t glued anymore, but bodies still as close as possible.

Minhyuk opens his eyes, one first than the other, another peculiarity of his, his cheeks flushed.

“Your pillow is kind of hard”, is the first thing he says with a smile.

Hyungwon snorts, feeling a wave of affection drown him. “I know. It’s sturdier because I normally sleep sitting up.”

“Why?” Minhyuk asks, but then his eyes widen when he looks behind Hyungwon’s body and sees the morning light, the sun strong, the birds chirping outside. “Oh, shit. I was not supposed to be here.”

Hyungwon’s smile falls, because he too realizes that.

There is no time for goodbyes; the prince jumps out of the window as fast as he can, even if Hyungwon tells him it won’t be a problem if he just goes down the stairs like a civilized person. No house-slave is awake at that time, at least Hyungwon never saw anyone so early in the morning; it’s in vain, and in minutes Minhyuk disappears, running through the grass and dirt roads with his sleeping robes, hair a mess.

Hyungwon sits on the bed then, because he knows he’ll have to wait a while before getting dressed and going to the palace, pretending nothing happened and he didn’t have Minhyuk in tears in his bed just a few hours ago, nor that they slept together, hugging. Now the happiness and euphoria morphs into sadness and melancholy, guilt too.

Khalil watches the slave attentively as he takes the golden petunias and piles them on the mattress, one by one, until there is no more space for them.

What’s the use of so much gold when it can’t buy what you want?

The day continues without worries, but Hyungwon can’t find an opportunity to talk about what happened the previous night. Minhyuk acts as he always does, without even showing signs of the vulnerability he had hours ago, so Hyungwon just swallows (painfully) the questions and continues doing his job.

🌠

A cortege from a distant fire alchemy Tribe arrives a month later. It’s almost the end of summer now, the most pleasant temperature for them, accustomed to the incessant heat, as one of the counselors brought along informs the court of the Gold Kingdom.

“We were on a trip to see other places, and it was a happy coincidence that your correspondence arrived in time for us to come and visit you at last.” He smiles openly, speaking with little accent. “Your Highnesses, this is Im Choonsuk, eldest daughter of Im Hoon, the Perpetual Flame’s alchemist. Next to her we have Minji, the fourth daughter, and next to me, Changkyun, the third son. The fifth and youngest daughter remained with our leaders, as she’s not of age yet, and the oldest son married a mercury alchemist last summer. It wouldn’t be the first time someone from our tribe has married a metal alchemist, therefore, and our leader views a possible union with good eyes.”

The king smiles. “Me too. I find such a union very promising, especially because fire and gold can only generate more possibilities for gold.”

The counselor gives a meaningful look to the princess next to him. “Choonsuk. Please greet the king, queen and prince of the Eastern Gold Alchemy Kingdom.”

The woman bows slightly and removes the transparent red veil that covers her head, the same color as her dress, to show her face: the left half is burned, skin red like raw meat, eye white instead of brown. It’s a serious injury, which indicates great firepower running through her veins, and she faces them with a certain arrogance, receiving a poke on the back from her brother, the two exchanging glares like children.

Despite the big burn, Choonsuk isn’t ugly; has black hair, so dark it’s bluish, and strong features that haven’t been turned grotesque by the fire. No one else has a burn like that; the counselor has a burned hand, the youngest sister, nothing visible, and neither does the middle brother, but they all also have the same physical characteristics that allow one to imagine what the woman’s face would look like if she wasn’t an alchemist.

She says, in a voice that is somewhat shaky and heavy in the same accent as the counselor’s, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Hyungwon, standing next to Minhyuk’s throne, is discreet when looking at the prince and seeing his reaction: there’s neutrality in the expression, but Hyungwon knows the man well enough to notice the discreet upturn of his lip in disgust.

“Minhyuk”, the queen calls, “Greet her. Properly.”

The prince sighs, loudly and for three whole seconds, pairing this while a roll of eyes – like a third stubborn child, he gets up and retributes the bow, his posture however soft as if he wasn’t taking it seriously (and he isn’t).

The fire alchemist, however, doesn’t seem bothered. She isn’t exactly looking when Minhyuk bows, instead glancing over her shoulder to some people further back, probably servants or guards.

Hoseok pokes Hyungwon’s back discreetly, and both the slaves exchange a look.

That reaction – or more like the lack of it – is a first.

A banquet is organized to celebrate the arrival of the Flame Tribe court, the families arranged to face each other: the king on the head of the table, the advisor on the king’s left while the queen occupies the right side, Minhyuk right in front of his suitor, etcetera.  She still hasn’t cast a glance at the prince, however, which is really curious: normally princesses or daughters of tribe leaders are enchanted by Minhyuk’s handsomeness, even if the true beauty lies hidden beneath white and red paints. He’s truly an attractive man, with dark eyes and sharp features, tall and with visible physical vigor and strength, but none of this seems interesting enough to tempt the fire alchemist.

In fact, she seems more interested in continuing casting glances at someone sitting at the end of the table. A bit of a snoop, at first Hyungwon doesn’t identify who is, but when notices a woman with short hair, feline eyes and broad shoulders mouthing something he can't read from her lips, he immediately knows she’s the object of the fire alchemist’s full attention.

He’s so distracted watching the two that doesn’t even realize the one who stares back at the prince is actually Choonsuk’s brother, sitting next to her. They are very similar, the same nose, close height, posture and even voice, which makes him handsome.

At one point during the meal, the counselor tells about the tribe’s leader family and introduces Changkyun again, asking him to tell about the wonders of the alchemy they deal with. The third son seems shy at first but tells the legend of the phoenix, which is particularly famous in their land, and of the salamander, an amphibian that, according to him, holds the power of flame alchemists within its heart.

The imposing way his presence manifests itself, even if his body language is quite restrained and timid, reveals the truly energy of a fire alchemist, and Hyungwon wonders if he’s a practitioner and what part of his body he had to give up in order to control his power; when the advisor says they were lucky enough to convince the supreme leader to let the best warrior and alchemist (after the leader himself, of course) travel to protect his sister, Hyungwon has his answer.

“Show them!” The youngest sister asks.

Changkyun makes a firebird fly over everyone’s heads and from inside one of his pockets comes a black animal with yellow spots, almost like a lizard, which causes strangeness and amazement especially among the Gold Alchemy Kingdom’s women (the queen almost falls back in her chair, and Hoseok has to run to her rescue).

Hyungwon, however, isn’t surprised. Earth alchemists see a lot, especially those who deal with crops. He, particularly, loved being around frogs on the banks of the rivers, so amphibians are familiar to him.

What does surprise the slave, nevertheless, is the way Changkyun gets up from his chair and walks around the table, kneeling next to Minhyuk without even casting a glance at the king.

He offers the salamander to the prince, inviting him to pet it – without any permission request, without any invitation.

Minhyuk makes a surprised face, his eyes wide. “It is so weird. I am not touching this.”

“Go ahead”, Changkyun encourages with a smile. “It won’t burn you. I’m the alchemist. It only helps me conjure my fire.”

So Minhyuk takes the risk of running his index finger over the salamander’s head, which lifts it up and blinks two black eyes very slowly.

“He likes you, Your Highness”, Changkyun whispers.

The prince smiles, satisfied, and so does the fire alchemist, making everyone at the table laugh and clap like it’s a spectacle.

Hyungwon, however, doesn’t find it funny. He feels like coughing, chest hurting suddenly.

🌠

At night, when Hyungwon is on his way to the door to excuse himself to sleep, Minhyuk asks him what he thought of Changkyun.

He bites the inside of his cheek before responding, “Too impudent. Acts like you’re not a prince.”

Minhyuk snorts. “Funny observation. Now you see me as one?”

Hyungwon stops, hand on the doorknob. He feels nervous about the question, but doesn’t know why.

“I always saw you as a prince. Just not mine.”

Minhyuk pulls the covers closer to him, turns to his left. “Well, I like being flattered, and he flattered me a lot today. He is handsome too, do you agree?”

“Different from what you always say is your type”, Hyungwon comments, still looking at the decorated gold doorknob in his hand. He twitches his fingers, the knuckles turning whiter.

“Yes, clearly, but something about him fascinates me”, Minhyuk says, interrupted by a yawn. “I think it is the mysticism all fire tribes have.”

Hyungwon presses his lips together. “Fascinates… how?”

Changkyun is shorter than him, but also shorter than Minhyuk; he’s thin even though athletic, arms defined since the clothes he wore were sleeveless. It’s different from the long robes they wear in the kingdom; it can hide a lot of things underneath it.

Minhyuk lifts his head just a little, smirking. “Oh, you know.”

Hyungwon tenses his jaw. His chest has been hurting all afternoon, like it hasn’t hurt in a whole month.

“Getting too close to the fire can burn you”, he murmurs, but Minhyuk doesn’t answer.

The guards smile as he leaves the chambers, wishing him a good night. Hyungwon reciprocates, even if doesn’t feel like it.

He arrives in his room, caresses Khalil behind the ears, giving the dog a portion of the food he saved from the banquet, but before can even lie down on the bed he coughs and coughs and coughs, but falls asleep somewhere in the middle of the night, overcome by exhaustion.

He dreams of Minhyuk wearing a beautiful golden tunic, more festive, but not with his white face paint nor red lips. They’re somewhere, a forest, and in the prince’s hand there’s a daffodil bouquet he offers Hyungwon, insists he takes it.

The slave wakes up with the petals on his pillow, confused, almost with no voice.

🌠

To everyone’s surprise, especially his parents’ and the priest’, Minhyuk announces the Flame Alchemy leader’s daughter is acceptable, and that the courtship can continue for longer so he’s sure Choonsuk and him match. Everyone celebrates, but Hyungwon knows the real reason behind all this isn’t because he’s cured, as the priest murmurs, hands open to the sky.

The reason is Minhyuk’s future brother-in-law.

As a simple peasant from an earth alchemy village, Hyungwon would never go through the situation of courting someone. If liked someone, he’d ask for the person’s hand in marriage at most, and if it was reciprocal (which he always feared it wouldn’t be), he’d marry that person, woman or not, and have children or not, continuing his life taking care of chickens and flowers.

Courting, he discovers, is actually letting the prince and leader’s daughter spend time together, but always under the watchful eyes of others. The king, who rarely speaks to Hyungwon, declares him trustworthy enough to be Minhyuk’s chaperone, since he’s already with the prince all the time, along with two guards who usually stay by Minhyuk’s chambers. Choonsuk’s companions are her sister, the woman she keeps glancing at and whispering to (who he discovers is Hyunja, her personal guard), and her brother.

Hyungwon doesn’t know how, but the prince and Changkyun actually become so close in such a short space of time it’s… upsetting.

(Since Changkyun isn’t with the prince during the day, there’s only one way to explain such closeness.)

Minhyuk wants to show the fire alchemist the parks, the squares around the palace, the open halls, the library, where he practices his classes and even near the corral where the slaves are kept. They go ahead of everyone, arms linked, while the women follow and Hyungwon and the palace’s guards close the procession.

Choonsuk, clearly shy but a little irritated (?) barely speaks a single word, and when does, it’s to ask something to her guard-lady or her sister in the fire alchemy’s language. The younger girl is much more talkative, even starting a conversation with the guards and Hyungwon.

Minhyuk, on the other side, ignores each and every other person in favor of talking to Changkyun. Hyungwon can hear the prince’s loud, hoarse voice, but can’t exactly make out what he says; also observes the fire alchemist’s reactions while squinting, the way he places a hand on the small of Minhyuk’s back and how they bring their faces together to whisper, Minhyuk laughing and placing a hand on Changkyun’s face, cupping his cheek like they’re intimate just to get his attention, or better yet: keep it in him.

It’s disgusting.

Hyungwon feels his stomach turning, breathing deeply from time to time. It’s the first time he sees the prince deliberately flirting with someone, and decides he hates it – but can’t even think of the reason behind such sentiment since the youngest sister keeps on asking about everything like the child she is, deviating his attention from the prince.

Quieter than both is the guard-lady, who exchanges very meaningful looks with Choonsuk all the time even though the latter has a veil covering her face as usual. The language they speak in hurried whispers is different from what Hyungwon learned, a little too fast for to understand everything since it’s the first time he has actually met someone who deals with fire. He doesn’t have a way to hear their conversation; thus everything becomes tedious and a burden like a slave’s life had never been before.

The days pass like this: torturously. The prince has no subjects to talk other than his future brother-in-law, and Hyungwon almost regrets not having died two years ago, when resisted the army that decimated his village and brought him to the Eastern Gold Alchemy Kingdom, especially because now the cough is accompanied by an afternoon fever and some tiredness, since during the night Hyungwon doesn’t stop sweating and can’t sleep for more than four, maybe five hours.

🌠

“Sister mine want know about the prince”, Minji tells Hyungwon when they stop under a tree, hiding from the sun that punishes them, mercilessly. She’s not an alchemist, he discovered a few days prior, and therefore doesn’t know how to speak other languages well.

Hyungwon glances at Choonsuk. She’s clearly throwing daggers towards her sister with her eye, but the girl seems unperturbed, blinking expectantly in the slave’s direction. He doesn’t know what she might want to know if could simply ask her brother; from where they are, they can barely see the tree where Minhyuk and Changkyun sat under the shade, about twenty meters away.

Maybe it’s for the best.

“What is it?” He asks anyway, voice low since speaking in what used to be his usual tone hurts his throat now.

Surprisingly, before Minji can continue, it’s the guard-lady who speaks for the first time since the Flame Tribe arrived: “We hear a lot about your prince and how flirtatious he is. Is it true?”

Hyungwon swallows dry. He’s thirsty, but it also hurts to drink anything.

“It depends.”

“How?”

Changkyun lights a flame on his index finger after snapping it against his thumb. He picks up a leaf from the ground and burns it, blowing the ashes towards Minhyuk, who claps his hands as if it wasn’t the poorest display of power possible.

Feeling like coughing, Hyungwon has to remind himself that even though he’s repulsed by what he’s seeing now, he’s still Minhyuk’s company slave. He owes him his life, especially – and if the prince said he wanted the courting to continue, it’s not Hyungwon who’s going to ruin that. The tears turned into camellias are still in his mind.

“He’s interested in determined people and it’s on them that he spends his energy.”

“He’s not sister spending time”, Minji says. “He not like her?”

Hyungwon hears Choonsuk muttering something that sounds like clearly or obvious in her native language, but there’s no longer any irritation on her features.

“He liked your brother a lot”, he says instead, because it’s obvious and it will reach the others’ ears in no time, if things continue like this.

A few moments pass, in which the urge to cough becomes greater and more uncontrollable as he observes Minhyuk and Changkyun’s interaction – especially when Minhyuk turns a branch fallen from the tree in gold and gives it to the fire alchemist.

He takes the cloth from his tunic pocket, then, covers his mouth and briefly turns his back to the women, feeling as if thorns are scratching his throat from the inside. His chest is hot, almost like it’s on fire too, and Hyungwon presses his hand flat against it as if such a gesture would alleviate something, wishing Minhyuk could hear and worry like he did weeks ago.

At the same time, the guard-lady and the fire alchemist speak to each other in their native language, and Hyungwon can only hear and understand brokenly because of his coughing.

What if he is like him?

There is no way to know. Maybe (…) but it is risky. (…) Offense.

This slave does not seem (…)

Do you want me to ask?

I am afraid he will not be. What if (…) You know I do not want to get married.

And that makes Hyungwon widen his eyes, open his mouth to question—

But he can’t, since revealing he understands what another tribe is saying is the same thing as revealing himself to be an alchemist as well.

Because my brother is like that. My father would be furious if he (…) is too.

He may not want you to stay here.

If he is also like my brother, then maybe—

“Prince like to date men?”

The younger sister’s questioning silences not only Choonsuk and the guard but also Hyungwon, who finally understands what awakened the suitor’s curiosity.

“Yes.”

If there’s something that is well known among the kingdom and that Minhyuk makes no effort to hide, is how much he despises women and how inversely proportional is the affection he feels for men – and Hyungwon doesn’t fail to catch the way Choonsuk’s eyes widen, how her guard-lady can barely hide the astonishment in her face even if also wears a veil.

“Brother my too”, Minji says, enthusiastic, holding her sister’s arm like trying to get her attention, shaking the fire alchemist. In their native language, she celebrates, “Maybe if you talk to him it might work! Can I tell him—”

Choonsuk shushes her with a hissing sound, glancing at Hyungwon while shaking her head no.

What?, Hyungwon wants to ask, his curiosity now eating him alive just like the pain in his lungs. His throat is truly feeling like pricked by small daggers; it’s getting harder and harder to breathe each passing day, but he ignores it in favor of trying to elicit the answers he wants rather than asking them directly: “That’s honestly why he hasn’t rejected you yet, your ladyship Choonsuk. He—” cleans his throat, “—sorry, he appreciates alchemist Changkyun too much.”

Still stunned, the guard-lady asks, “And did he tell you that?”

Hyungwon hesitates, but Minhyuk’s loud and unmistakable laugh reaches their ears.

When he looks, Minhyuk is in the fire alchemist’s arms, the two of them being cornered in a circle by the same firebird, the phoenix, that he enchanted at the first day’s banquet. The prince has his arms around Changkyun’s neck, the height difference noticeable but not a problem when Changkyun says something and presses his lips on the corner of Minhyuk’s mouth.

Hyungwon feels slightly dizzy. His legs are a bit wobbly. He wishes he could sit at least for a little bit.

“Even if he didn’t, you don’t need to know him to notice.”

🌠

He thinks of telling Minhyuk about the questioning, about how his suitor and her guard appear to have a plan in mind involving the wedding and how Choonsuk also doesn’t want to get married, but has no time to do so.

When Changkyun isn’t around, he’s all Minhyuk can talk about. Hyungwon has to make a superhuman effort to ignore everything he hears, because for the first time it’s not about carnal acts but about how wonderful, interesting, serious, studious he is, adjectives the slave never heard the prince refer to anyone before.

During meals Minhyuk barely eats, spending all his time by the fire alchemist, whispering in his ear and exchanging more than pleasantries, hands holding and fingers circling hands and touching knuckles in a way Hyungwon knows means so much more. As he doesn’t eat, everything he should eat and drink goes to his slave – and in a gesture of false care and concern, the only times he exchanges a few words with Hyungwon are to ask, are you eating well? Want more?

Hyungwon doesn’t know how to deny it. He apparently can’t be firmer with the prince anymore. Something inside him hurts, both literally and otherwise, and being given a fraction of Minhyuk’s attention suddenly goes from a burden to a joy, so he just keeps going along, eating until can’t take any more.

At night, he escorts the prince to his chambers with some difficulty, drunk and full of food. Everything, again, hurts, especially the stomach and head. His stumbling drunk steps echo on the white marble floor just like Minhyuk’s loud voice, telling a story from the Flame Tribe Changkyun confided in him recently.

With shaking hands, head bowed, Hyungwon opens the door and Minhyuk walks in, almost hopping on his feet, turning around and holding Hyungwon by the shoulders smiling from ear to ear.

Drunk, too full, somewhat feverish, Hyungwon can’t even focus his eyes on the painted face in front of him.

“I will not need you to guard my sleep as usual”, Minhyuk tells him. “Soon Changkyun will appear at the window down here and I will meet him. But I need you to do me the huge favor, Hyungwon, of staying here until I get back, to make sure that if someone comes to check on me, they will see you and think I am sleeping.”

Of the small stupidities the Gold Kingdom has, one of the worst is monitoring whether the prince is in bed even if he’s known for constant romantic getaways. Hyungwon sometimes wonders why this happens, but he knows they must do it because Minhyuk probably gave them reasons to.

“Why? Y-you’ve always gone out to meet your… men, and it never seemed to be a problem.”

“But now I am being courted, and courting back”, he rolls his eyes but smiles. “It is different.”

Hyungwon burps, cheeks puffing out, eyes filling with tears. His stomach feels like a ball, swollen. “And—And how am I going to do that?”

“You know how to imitate me, do you not? You do it to annoy me all the time. You just do the same thing. Look, you can even lay down—” Minhyuk pulls the covers off the bed, undoing it, and Hyungwon remembers so many months ago how he sat there and did alchemy with Minhyuk’s hair for the first time, surprising the prince like he thought no one else would. Rookie mistake. “Very well. Pretend to be asleep, or indeed do. It will be even more convincing, since you sleep so heavily.”

“That’s a bad—” hiccup, “—idea.”

Minhyuk arches an eyebrow. “I did not ask for your opinion. I am ordering you to stay here.”

Hyungwon sighs heavily, throwing his head back and slamming it against the wall with some force. “You asked—me a favor.”

“I was being kind, but you apparently do not deserve it”, Minhyuk replies, crossing his arms like a petulant child. He even pouts, but then shrugs, sighing heavily while sitting down on the mattress, caressing it. He seems… troubled. “Well, anyway, I need it. It is important.”

Drunk, there’s no way to hold back the scoff. “I bet it is.”

Minhyuk frowns. He’s whiny, not angered. “It is! Maybe not for you, but for me!”

“You—You keep risking a lot for this unknown”, Hyungwon says, tongue heavy inside his mouth. “It’s—dangerous.”

The prince doesn’t answer immediately, instead staring at Hyungwon with an unreadable expression. “I have my reasons.”

“You always do. You always…” He’s feeling cold, and putting a hand against the wall, he feels it cold as well, contrasting to how warm his body feels. Maybe lying down isn’t too bad of an idea.

“You said you did not want details about what happens after you leave my chambers.”

“But I’m not leaving. I’ll... Will you let me sleep in your bed? Your… bed. Your bed?”

Minhyuk looks troubled, and walks slowly in Hyungwon’s direction. He holds him by the shoulders again, steading the slave, because Hyungwon is moving from side to side without any reason, rubbing the top of his head against the wall.

“What are you doing? Stop. Are you—Are you shaking?”

Hyungwon closes his eyes, trying to breathe deeply. It makes him a bit more nauseated. “I’m cold.”

“Sit. Come.” Minhyuk guides him in the bed’s direction, and Hyungwon feels like melting when he can finally relax a little, muscles aching as if had exerted great physical effort. “Listen. Hyungwon? Listen to me.”

The slave hums, hugging himself. Minhyuk’s hands are still on his shoulders, and feel so cold too.

“Me and Changkyun have not had sex yet, but I am feeling like tonight is the night. I am feeling—” Minhyuk smiles, big. “And I need everything to work out because there is not a moment when we are not accompanied by other people, so there is no way it will not happen like this, in the dead of night.”

Hyungwon burps again, trying to muffle it against his closed fist. His throat is like closing up, too.

“I was planning to show him my favorite place. You know where it is”, Minhyuk continues, looking at the wind playing with the curtains on the window, which is actually a small balcony. He’ll probably climb down the wall outside, or rely on the guards; Hyungwon can’t think too much because it’s making him more dizzy, regretting the weakness of spirit that left him like this, susceptible to the prince like never before. “Imagine how romantic, how beautiful he would be like that, body open in space, the dragon tattoo – have you seen it? He has a dragon tattooed on his arm – and me being on top, admiring how the moon illuminates not only him but also the flowers in the garden—”

“What?” Hyungwon gurgles, opening his eyes. They don’t focus immediately. “What the fuck—did you just say?”

Minhyuk tilts his head to the side, mouth pursed. “I do not like that wording. You do not swear, at least not in my presence. I said I will take him to the garden.”

“The garden? My garden?”

Overcome by rage and alcohol, Hyungwon can’t control himself; he bats the hands on him away, feeling more alert. He even points a finger at Minhyuk, acting like is the one in charge, voice thundering like it doesn’t hurt terribly to do so.

“Shut up! Stay away from it! I—I don’t want that bastard in my garden, he’s—he’s going to burn everything down because you don’t give a fuck! In fact, you want that, don’t you? Wanna be—”

“You shut up! It is the second time—” Minhyuk’s face contorts in anger, but he can’t finish because Hyungwon gasps loudly, painfully, hand going to his throat to hold it like it’s ripping apart at the same time an arm curls around his stomach.

He falls forward, on his knees, the impact hurting even if there’s a white carpet under them.

“Hyungwon!” Minhyuk shouts, and there is desperation like the other time.

Hyungwon tries to speak, to tell him it’s alright, but it’s like a flaming spear inside his body, tears falling uncontrollably and blurring his vision, the vein in his neck popping out with the effort of coughing like he wants to tear himself apart. His noises are paired with Minhyuk’s desperate words, his arms around Hyungwon, and now there’s a new sensation: a violent desire to vomit, stomach twisting and the dry mouth soon filling with saliva everything his body wants to purge.

The last thing he sees before faints for the third time is the prince’s handsome face contorted in despair coming in and out of focus, his mouth moving in but without sound.

Everything goes silent again; however, such silence is like a whistle, sharp and irritating in Hyungwon’s ears.

🌠

He wakes up in his bedroom, in his bed, a searing headache that doesn’t even allow him to open his eyes completely. Sitting next to him are Hoseok, peeling an orange, and Khalil, the wolf-dog’s huge head resting on the foot of the bed, close to Hyungwon’s shins.

“You are awake?”

Hyungwon grunts, the afternoon light coming in through the open window, sweat all over his body, his mouth dry and throat even more. He feels positively disgusting.

Hoseok looks at him, eating a segment of the fruit, his small eyes wide open. It’s difficult to stare directly at him because the several gold accessories adorning his upper body are suddenly shining too much: rings, earrings, necklaces and even a bracelet around a defined bicep. They’re all gifts from the queen, since she doesn’t hide she likes him (maybe more than should, for a married woman), and Hoseok wears it proudly, acting like a true lover even in front of others.

The only thing Minhyuk gave Hyungwon so far were the golden flowers. Something derived from a gift that Hyungwon conjured, but nothing of his own free will.

“What happened?” Hyungwon struggles to say. Khalil immediately comes to him, tail wagging, ears up, alert.

“It is a hangover, you will survive it”, Hoseok tells Hyungwon in their native language, but there’s no humor in his last sentence. It’s more like a statement. “You ate and drank too much yesterday, and then threw up in Minhyuk’s room.”

If had the strength to do so, Hyungwon would scream, what?, but the memories are strangely fresh in the mind. He remembers everything: the banquet, Minhyuk and Changkyun, Minhyuk’s plan to have sex with the alchemist in the garden, the garden Hyungwon made with his own hands.

All to make the prince happier.

“Please kill me now”, is what he tells Hoseok instead, making him snort as chews another orange segment.

“If that were the case, the prince would have already ordered it done. But he desperately came after me, asking for help, and I brought you here. I made the detox tea we used to drink at home. Remember?” Hyungwon nods. Hoseok finally smiles, nostalgic. “Apparently it helped. You threw up everything, even water.”

He must stink. Did Minhyuk see him in that state? Was he worried, even going to meet the man of the moment?

How peculiar.

Hyungwon didn’t expect this from him – but then again, it’s a rookie mistake not to be surprised by everything Minhyuk does.

“Great.”

“Not much”, Hoseok says, giving a bite of orange to Khalil. “When I say everything, I mean everything.”

“I know.”

“Even flowers.”

Hyungwon, who was staring at the ceiling, slowly turns to Hoseok, his heart stopping in his chest with terror.

“Wh… What did you say?”

Hoseok doesn’t even blink back. “Exactly what you heard. Since when do you vomit flowers, Hyungwon?”

🌠

Mohsin sits next to Hyungwon, tying cloths around his wrists to help them from continuing bleeding.

“In my fifty-eight years of life, I had never met a flower alchemist. While you slept, I had to consult a few books to know what we are dealing with.”

Hyungwon lowers his head until his belly touches his knees, hugging them from below. It hurts. Everything hurts, actually. He hasn’t known what it’s like to feel pain for months now.

“So what do we do?” Hoseok, standing against the medical tent’s main pole, asks.

Mohsin sighs heavily, shrugging. “I do not want to give you definitive answers because it would be unethical, but it actually scared me. It is almost like a parasite infiltrating. Parts of your body are literally blossoming, Hyungwon. Like a garden.”

It’s the curse. What alchemy demands.

“I’m doomed, ain’t I?”

Mohsin presses his lips together, as if thinking of what to answer. “I gave you a bezoar. It is a traditional medicine that works for metal alchemists, as it is very strong, only useful for cases of poisoning, especially with arsenic. In your case it should help. It will not do any harm, anyway – but it will not cure you either.”

“There’s no cure,” Hoseok says, arms crossed, expression hard.

Hyungwon shakes his head.

Mohsin looks at him and tries to smile in a sympathetic way, turning to Hyungwon again. “And who is this person? Are you going to confess to her? Are you going to tell the prince?”

Hyungwon doesn’t answer.

“Hyungwon,” Hoseok calls in their language. “Who is it?”

Silence.

“Hyungwon”, Hoseok insists. “Please. You are suffering the effects of the curse. You know the only way to revert it is—”

“You know”, comes the answer whispered. “The person.”

He doesn’t see, but Hoseok’s eyes can’t widen more than they do.

Hyungwon is sworn to die, but not because he disappointed the prince. If he’s vomiting whole flowers already, there’s not much time until he’s vomiting bouquets and soon thorns that will split his insides apart.

He’s sworn to die of love, because he fell in love with the person he never, ever should have, the last person in the world who would reciprocate his feelings.

The heir of the Eastern Gold Alchemy Kingdom, prince Minhyuk.

🌠

The bezoar works, alleviating symptoms, and Hyungwon goes back to take it twice more, even though Mohsin says it won’t cure him nor make him live. It only masks the intense pain.

Hyungwon doesn’t care much anymore.

It’s been a month and a half since the Flame Tribe arrived in the kingdom, and as Minhyuk and Changkyun have clearly become one during the supervised visits, the royal couple, priest and high counselors turn somewhat wary of the choice they made.

The prince distances himself from everything – it’s not that bad, though, because the less time spent at the prince’s side, the better for Hyungwon’s health, even though he knows it’s only a matter of time before he dies. Love has certainly already infiltrated his entire being, even if it doesn’t make sense, even if there is no logical explanation for falling in love with someone with such dubious morals and completely reprehensible as the prince.

But who will say that there is no reason in things done from the heart?

There were reasons for the petals he was coughing, though. The dreams too.

What will Minhyuk do when he dies? When Hyungwon doesn’t wake up in the morning to go to his chambers, when they find out he became part earth, part flower, everything coming out of his mouth, ears, eyes and other holes in his body? A true garden, like the healer said?

Will Minhyuk understand? Will he bury Hyungwon? Or will he plant him in the garden Hyungwon made, just to have sex with slaves and princes and tribe leaders’ sons above it?

His health is slowly declining, but knowing why now seems to be speeding it up somewhat.

And if the prince gets closer and closer to Changkyun, with increasingly obvious displays of affection in front of anyone to the point where the priest reproaches him for kissing the alchemist on the lips during dinner, Hyungwon gets closer enough to Choonsuk for them to have trivial conversations. His silences and honest responses help him gain some of the trust of the apparently so suspicious tribe leader’s daughter, even allowing her to braid his hair one afternoon in late autumn, just before Minhyuk’s birthday. Her younger sister and the guard-lady are playing in the lake, their dresses tied at their knees as they look for colorful pebbles. The prince and the alchemist are nearby, but Hyungwon is trying not to care too much. If by chance he loses Minhyuk and is sentenced to death, it will only accelerate the natural process of things.

“There”, Choonsuk says, retracting her hands. Hyungwon’s hair is braided in a delicate and complicated way, and it reaches his shoulder blades, similar to the hairstyle the fire alchemist’s younger sister has today. “Looks beautiful.”

“I expected it to”, he teases. His voice has gone hoarse, never the same after the great crisis that made him vomit whole flowers in Minhyuk’s chambers.

Choonsuk snorts. She never really laughs; Hyungwon only saw her doing it once, talking to her guard-lady. “Practice makes perfect.”

“Do you braid everyone’s hair, then?” Hyungwon asks, turning around and sitting next to her. He only brings up the subject because she seems to be in a good mood, being the one who suggested making his hair.

“Yes”, Choonsuk nods. “In the past, Hyunja had very long hair, so I spent hours combing it and decorating it with fire lilies.”

“Oh”, Hyungwon smiles, “Are there flowers in the Fire Tribe? Never heard of it.”

“Only a few, the most resistant to it. Fire lilies, marigolds, alstroemeria and sunflowers. I’ve seen them here, too, at the prince’s garden, but I didn’t know the Gold Kingdom had so many species. I was taught the soil here isn’t good for crops, only for minerals, but a guard told me you’re the one responsible for the garden.”

“I am”, Hyungwon confirms it, but changes the subject fast. Choonsuk seems to be too observant for her own good. “And what made Miss Hyunja cut her hair?”

“She joined the army.”

Hyungwon arches his eyebrows in surprise. “Can women enlist in the army, in your tribe?”

Choonsuk lowers her eyes. “Anyone who knows fire alchemy can.”

“So Miss Hyunja is also an alchemist, like you? But Miss Minji isn’t?”

“I’d never want my sister to be disfigured”, is her response. Short and direct.

“Fair enough”, Hyungwon nods. “Alchemy steals as much as it gives.”

Choonsuk squints, her gaze shifting from the women in the river to the slave sitting next to her. Even though one of her eyes is blind, he still feels under enormous pressure, turning his own away.

“What did it steal from prince Minhyuk?”

Hyungwon laughs, coughing a little – no petals, thanks to the bezoar he took earlier that morning.

“Nothing, as far as I know. Gold is not exactly toxic like other metals, but it can drive you crazy due to its preciousness, apparently. He has relatives who got insane and turned themselves into statues.”

“My father said he was ignorant and arrogant, and I agree, but I don’t think he’s crazy”, Choonsuk murmurs, now turning to where they last saw the alchemists together. “I actually think he knows very well what he’s doing.”

Hyungwon sighs. It hurts his chest. “Minhyuk is… difficult to deal with. Very volatile temperament.”

“Like fire”, Choonsuk smirks. “That must be why he and Changkyun get along so well.”

Hyungwon looks at her, observes how the alchemist always seems to be so indifferent to everything, her expression only changing when she gets angry. It frequently happens in the presence of the prince and her brother, he already noticed as well.

“Your ladyship Choonsuk, may I ask you something?”

She looks down, intertwines her fingers on her lap, always modest, always discreet. “Yes. Doesn’t mean I’ll answer, though.”

“Sure”, Hyungwon smiles lightly, even if the words that leave his mouth hurt his heart: “Doesn’t bother you that your suitor is having an affair with your brother?”

Choonsuk blinks a few times and then lowers her head, her hair and veil covering her face. Hyungwon already noticed she made sure to hide the burnt part, not only because of her blind eye, but surely because of the skin’s appearance. It indeed is a… peculiar sight to get used to.

“No.”

The younger sister’s words haven’t left his head since he heard them, even though now Hyungwon has more important things to worry about (like stop loving Minhyuk, which he knows is very difficult, and trying not to die, which he knows is almost impossible).

“Why?”

“You asked me if you could ask one question”, she smiles slightly, but staring forward to the other women.

“I’m sorry, but I ask in the sincerest curiosity”, he insists, gripping his tunic for a second. “Minhyuk never, ever allowed a suitor to stay here for more than two days. You’re soon completing two months in this palace, and it’s obvious it’s all because of your brother. Most women would be jealous, to say the least, in my experience.”

It’s almost a full minute of silence before Hyunja turns to them with a fish in her hands, Minji clapping her hands excitedly. She turns, shouts for Choonsuk – finally the hard expression dissolves, and she claps too, Hyunja’s eyes almost disappearing due to her smile.

The fire alchemist sighs, then, and relaxes her posture for just a second before sitting straight, tall, again.

“You seem sincere to me, indeed, but you’re also a slave, so I don’t expect you to understand foreign geopolitics or alchemy”, is how she starts. Hyungwon bites the inside of his cheek, remaining quiet. “But marriage, for many women, is the chance to go from under the wings of a crazy genocidal tyrant man to under the wings of another man, who may or may not be worse or better than our father.”

She pauses, like wants a confirmation of what was said was understood. Hyungwon is quick to nod.

“This being said, from what I can see, the Eastern Gold Kingdom is not at all like my homeland. Minhyuk grew up with a freedom I never had. It might have to do with the fact he’s a man, but the king and queen seem so…” Choonsuk says something in her native language Hyungwon understands as indifferent; instead she completes with “…relaxed. I don’t say this to offend.”

“Even if you did, I wouldn’t care”, Hyungwon says.

Choonsuk snorts, the closest he’s ever seen her come to a full laugh. “And staying here all this time, while my brother and him form a bond, or whatever you want to call, is saving me from putting up with my lunatic father. This to me is perfect. I’ve never been so calm in my life. That’s why I don’t care. If he falls in love with my brother and wants to keep the relationship forever by marrying me, even better.”

It’s the most words Hyungwon has ever heard Choonsuk say, as well, but wishes she didn’t finish with such a sentence.

He takes the tissue out of his pocket quickly, coughing, because hearing from her that Minhyuk might fall in love with Changkyun triggers another fit.

“The only problem is that Changkyun won’t be able to stay here forever. If I get married, he’ll become the eldest son, so my father will want to marry him off as soon as he gets back, possibly. The more heirs to the flame line, the better”, Choonsuk continues, grimacing. “But... But that’s not all. Being away from my dad is a relief in itself, but I also don’t mind staying because…”

Hyunja screams when Minji throws water on her back, trying to chase the girl into the river. There is no way they can even compete, one being twice the other in both size and width, and soon they are diving and cursing each other in the Flame Tribe’s native language.

Hyungwon notices some hesitation in continuing, at the same time he feels Choonsuk wants to tell him.

“Because…”

She lowers her head, shaking it for a couple seconds.

“Everything I went through, Minji is likely to go through too. So keeping her away for as long as I can is also a good thing. I can justify wanting her to stay here by saying the properties of another type of alchemy could be good for her, I don’t know. My mother intervened and managed to stop my father from forcing her to become an alchemist, but his patience has a limit. She’s about to become a woman in a few years, two at most. Where I come from, if a person doesn’t have alchemy, they don’t have any strength.” She sighs, heavily, covering her face with both hands for a second before composing herself again. “Which means she’ll also be given to a crazy man, and most likely some general or advisor my father owes favors to.”

With each passing day, the more and more he knows the duties and obligations that someone born within royalty or similar positions must go through, the more Hyungwon thinks slaves like him and Hoseok have more freedom.

“That’s terrible. I’m sorry.”

Choonsuk hums, her face closing off again.

They watch the other two women playing in the water again, in silence. Ten, maybe fifteen minutes later, Minhyuk and Changkyun come back into view hand in hand, the prince laughing against the alchemist’s shoulder. The latter has white paint and spots of red all over his face, while Minhyuk’s makeup is completely, visibly messed up even from a distance.

They look happy. They seem… in love.

Hyungwon has another coughing fit not even the bezoar can control. It’s quite violent after being controlled for a while, and Choonsuk turns to him a little scared, asking if he’s alright. He agrees, gives his back to her and extends an open palm to keep her away. Worries, for a second, that she’ll see the petals coming out of his mouth, but at the same time doubts she’d understand. Flower alchemy is rarely known outside of its practitioners; just as she didn’t expect him to understand about the Fire Tribe, he also doesn’t expect her to know about the diversity of the earth alchemy.

“Sorry”, he apologizes, trying to ignore the tearing pain in his chest. His eyes are glossy due to tears falling down his cheeks, jaw and neck; he feels short of breath due to the effort, head throbbing. “I have these coughing fits sometimes. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Minhyuk’s laugh, loud and sincere, reaches his ears.

Hyungwon can’t resist. He glances at the pair, whispering to each other, Minhyuk’s arms around Changkyun’s neck, and the urge to puke comes immediately, but not violent enough he can’t hold back. He does gasp, though, and has to look away, face reddening even more when meets Choonsuk’s alarmed expression again, one that soon changes to something else difficult to describe and understand because she always has a very complicated facial visage on.

“Did your prince never send you to the healer to inspect the reason for all this?”

Hyungwon pauses, takes a deep breath as much as he can, a bit suffocated. There are dark spots in the corners of his vision, and he knows it’s due to a lack of oxygen in his brain. Mohsin himself taught him about the warnings the body gives before you faint, when Minhyuk sent him there after finding him in the thicket, so long ago.

“It’s nothing to worry about, truly.”

“I was told you two were very close, that you were the longest-lasting company slave – to me, however, you don’t seem like much of a companion. I barely see him exchanging a word with you.”

“It’s because…” Hyungwon takes a deep breath again. He doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to vomit flowers in front of everyone and cause a scene. Keeping alchemy a secret can be considered treason, but maybe being hanged wouldn’t be so bad. Again: he’s doomed either way. It’s just a matter of time. “It’s because he’s having fun with Changkyun. I said, he’s interested in specific people—"

“This sounds so absurd. For the Fire Tribe, even if my father isn’t a practitioner of such dogma, we are still taught loyalty is highly important and should be treasured as if the most precious of stones, more than gold or diamond”, Choonsuk interrupts him. “For example, Hyunja. She’s been my personal guard since we were teenagers, when we hadn’t even fully become women yet. She knows me like no one else in this life.”

Hyungwon doesn’t say a thing, both to save his voice but also to listen. Choonsuk seems inclined to say more.

“This is why I’d never leave her behind, even if I was to fall in love with someone else, even if she only keeps me in friendly company like you do to Minhyuk. I take her with me wherever I go, I do my best to make her happy because no one could ever come between us. I’m loyal to her until the day I die.”

She looks at Hyungwon with a more familiar facial expression: anger.

“It seems to me that you two are really close”, Hyungwon whispers brokenly, voice still recovering.

“We are”, Choonsuk nods. “It has always been us. She was the one who stood by me. She resisted with me when I had no more reason to live, she volunteered in my place in the army and although it led us to spend two years apart, it was worth it. She saved my life more than once, proved her devotion to me like no one else and even fought my father’s dictatorial intentions of locking me in a room and not letting me leave when I refused to help him kill other tribes. I’d never, won’t ever part from her.”

Hyungwon frowns, looking at Choonsuk with confusion, overwhelmed by such information and how emotional she sounded now.

“I can’t understand what your prince is doing just because of my brother”, she continues, scoffing. “He’s not even that special. He shows off with the phoenix and salamander antics that only entertains those who have no knowledge of fire, and he was only declared the best warrior because is my father’s son. My oldest brother—”

Choonsuk stops abruptly, like coming back to the present. Her face is red, the part that isn’t burned flushed with embarrassment, and her anger goes out like fire when water is thrown over it.

“Ah. I shouldn’t have.”

Hyungwon blinks. “What?”

“I… I’m sorry.” She shakes her head, the veil almost falling off her head, one hand covering her mouth. “I said too much.”

“It’s alright”, Hyungwon tranquilizes her. She seems agitated. “It wasn’t inappropriate at all. And I won’t tell anyone either, of course.”

“No. It’s not that, it's just that I shouldn’t—” Choonsuk shakes her head, and then looks at him in a way that can be described as scared, even. “If you tell, you might get me and Hyunja in trouble.”

“Why? I won’t, I told you. It’s part of a slaves’ job to hear and pretend we didn’t.”

Choonsuk stares, fear turning into confusion and then amusement. “You didn’t understand, did you?”

Hyungwon is about to shake his head when looks at her, really does, and something the sixth sense tells him that perhaps he needs to try a little harder, that the answer he so longs for is close to being discovered.

Minji calls Hyunja by a different name, telling her to stop swimming far. Hyungwon never noticed until now it’s a word that sounds too much like sister but isn’t exactly it – again, he has small practice with fire language, but knows it’s not that. Hyunja calls her little sister back, but it should be something more formal, since she’s a personal guard; likewise, she doesn’t call Choonsuk anything formal. Unlike Hyungwon, who refers to Minhyuk by name, she calls the leader’s daughter сайхан, a word he doesn’t know the meaning of.

“Ladyship, can I ask one more thing?”

Choonsuk doesn’t answer, only keeps staring at him.

“What Miss Hyunja calls you. It’s not a title, is it?” He says it, worried his pronunciation won’t be the best. “In your native language, I mean.”

She hesitates, but shakes her head no.

“She calls me beautiful.”

Ah. Yes. Of course.

Lucky son of a bitch, Hyungwon thinks.

Hyungwon swallows hard and whispers, brokenly, “You have one more reason to want to marry a man who doesn’t like women, don’t you?”

Choonsuk looks terrified. The pause between the question and the answer extends like a whole season, until Minhyuk and Changkyun are coming back and Minji and Hyunja are, too.

“Please, if you can keep—”

“You should tell Minhyuk about this”, Hyungwon interrupts her, trying to be as sincere as possible. “You might be surprised by his opinion on the matter.”

🌠

Hyungwon turns around a little surprised, scared of such sudden movement and noise in an otherwise silent corridor, and can only but peek inside before the prince grabs his forearm and drags him far away.

Minhyuk gets out of the library like a hurricane, his eyes wide and mouth partially open. Choonsuk has her hands pressed against her face, shaking from side to side; it could mean a bad thing, but if the smile threatening to rip Minhyuk’s face apart is an indication of something, the answer was the complete opposite.

They only stop when their feet sink into the damp, dark soil and the flowers in the private garden are the only witnesses.

The slave sniffs, presses his lips together and feels slightly anxious. It’s been a while since he's been this close to Minhyuk. It feels like they’re back in the early days.

“So… How wa—”

Minhyuk hugs Hyungwon, tight, his whole body pressed against the other’s, arms around his neck because the height difference makes Minhyuk tiptoe while Hyungwon’s hands automatically find the curve of his waist, holding him both out of instinct and because he seemed to need such a touch, like his body was crying out for it but Hyungwon didn’t know it.

He fits. Minhyuk fits perfectly inside his hug.

“It worked, Hyungwon”, the prince whispers in his ear, so raw and sincere it makes shivers go down Hyungwon’s spine. “It worked. She—She stays with her guard here, and I win—I will not have to worry. I will be able to—Oh, thank you, Hyungwon! Thank you, if it wasn’t for you…”

He breaks the hug and there are tears of genuine happiness wiping off the makeup as they fall. Hyungwon smiles because there is no other reaction to have.

“I need to tell Changkyun now. Maybe—Maybe he can stay too!” Minhyuk continues, and his arms move from Hyungwon’s shoulders to his hands and then back to hold Hyungwon’s face steady, so firm that his cheeks are crushed and his lips protrude forward. Minhyuk is so close, so close Hyungwon can see his eyelashes covered in white, his stained mouth whose red must be on Hyungwon’s robes now. “Oh, Hyungwon, I am so happy! I will forever be the happiest man in the world if I can keep him here too! I adore him so much, you probably know, do you not? I need to find him now!”

Minhyuk presses a kiss to Hyungwon’s forehead and lets him go completely, running back to the palace.

Hyungwon stays there for a few more minutes, and then an avalanche of pain hits him out of nowhere. He bends and his knees sink into the earth as well, yellow tulips coming from his mouth nonstop.

🌠

“You are getting worse.”

“I know.”

Mohsin crosses his arms. “Are you not worried? Do you want to die like this?”

Hyungwon shrugs, a cup of hot tea in his hands. It burns, but he doesn’t care.

“Everybody dies. Only the way changes, but the end is the same for everyone.”

🌠

Minhyuk, crown prince of the Eastern Gold Kingdom, and Choonsuk, daughter of Im Hoon, leader of the Perpetual Flame Tribe, are declared to be engaged on the first night of the prince’s birthday celebrations. They both sit at the end of the main table, dressed in typical attire of their respective families and alchemies, and each person in the palace hall kneels before them and bows, forehead hitting the floor, wishing them blessings and prosperity for the future couple life – even the slaves, despite being the last to do so.

Hyungwon bows in front of the couple and receives the prince’s first smile of the night; Minhyuk extends his hand and Hyungwon holds it, kissing the back of it even if it makes flowers blossom inside his stomach. He tries to distract himself, however, with the way Choonsuk looks calm for the first time since setting her foot in the East and how the wrinkles around Minhyuk’s eyes appear when he smiles sincerely – it’s all a flash in the pan, however.

During dinner, Minhyuk remains anchored to Changkyun the entire time, their arms linked and kisses being exchanged, even explicitly, in front of everyone; there’s technically no way to prohibit them, since marriage is, above all, a political alliance, and it’s already firmed. Choonsuk, as discreet as always, just stays by Hyunja’s side, and the guard even laughs during a specific moment, something Hyungwon never saw her do in public before.

Not everyone has such a good night, however; he, unfortunately, has to stay by the prince’s side the entire night, living up to the position of company slave.

Before it was bad because he thought Minhyuk was an idiot, then it became fun and enjoyable; now it’s more like torture, in the literal sense of the word.

Hyungwon tries, but can’t look away, n or does care to be blatantly staring: after a few glasses of wine, Changkyun has his hand under Minhyuk’s robe, the fire alchemist with his face hidden in the curve of the prince’s shoulder and neck, squirming every now and then, sucking a spot on his skin. It’s only when Minhyuk gasps audibly against the fire alchemist that they stop, exchanging a laughing, knowing look, and Changkyun retrieves his hand back to wipe it on the cushion he’s sitting on.

The prince then gets up, legs a little wobbly, and pulls the fire alchemist by the arm towards one of the balconies.

It’s a certain decency of the couple (and Hyungwon’s insides twist at such a conception) in moving away a little to perform such caresses, but he still has to remain close, has to keep up appearances; so it’s against Hyungwon’s will and even against his health that he hears the most absurd phrases, the most sincere moans coming from Minhyuk.

He looks over his shoulder because every fiber of his body is throbbing with the desire to see: it’s clear they wouldn’t be doing anything else but fucking like animals in public, even if partially hidden by the night and the curtains.

Minhyuk is leaning over the balustrade, his head hanging between his arms, his robe rolled up until half of his torso is visible; tanned skin contrasting with the white paint on his face and hands, Changkyun’s hands holding him firmly around his waist. Minhyuk moves, back and forth, as if he has no will of his own, as if he is just being guided—

Hyungwon has never even kissed anyone, only held Kihyun’s hand a few times and hugged him, but he knows very well what is happening even if doesn’t understand the logistics between two bodies, especially male ones.

He can’t breathe for a moment, tears suddenly falling from his eyes as he closes them tightly and his chest burns in flames as if Changkyun was throwing a blow at him. Starts sweating, legs weakening as he feels like he’s going to get sick at any moment, and as soon as Minhyuk and the fire alchemist break away for a second, he walks as fast and as restrained as possible to Hoseok’s side, gasping desperately for air while coughing on a new piece of cloth.

“You are whiter than the royal family”, Hoseok whispers, worried, a hand on Hyungwon’s back.

“Give me a second”, he pleads, speaking being painful as if glass cut his throat from the inside. When he raises his head to breathe a little, looks up to the ceiling and blinks back tears of effort, his entire nose and mouth are dirty with blood, red petals he doesn’t know if are intentional or dyed.

Hoseok’s eyes almost bug out of their cavities. “Oh, holy Mother Earth, you cannot go on like this. You are bleeding, Hyungwon, you are scaring me—”

You, scared? Hyungwon thinks, but has no strength nor voice to verbalize. Imagine how I feel.

He dismisses Hoseok with a wave of his hand; doesn’t want to call attention to himself, stumbling around until finds a waiter and has a terrible, but at the same time only possible idea: repeat the same scene from months ago.

Alcohol burns, but at the same time allows him to forget the main reason behind his agony.

Hyungwon drinks any and all types, even those Minhyuk never offered; reaches a point where he can’t even stand straight, having to lean on the walls for support, his mouth as if filled with cotton, the images in front of his eyes moving slowly and his nose numb as if he’d been hit.

He’ll be throwing up anyway, won’t he? So it’s better if it’s under some anesthetic effect, that everything he ingested makes the flowers inside his chest and stomach slide more comfortably, the cuts from the thorns heal immediately for more later.

The slave loses himself from the prince at some point. There are so many people, slaves, nobles, advisors, guards; he laughs with people he never saw before, shares glasses with drinks that aren’t the same as the ones the royal family drinks, provided by smiling guards at the ends of the room. For a few moments it’s as if he’s a person still, made of flesh and blood and no longer flower.

How many are inside of him? How much of Hyungwon is left?

Everything mixes together and he doesn’t feel like throwing up yet, but at some point he blinks and the hall is gone, the party finished, no more music or voices or bright torches illuminating them.

Hyungwon finds himself dragged, one of his arms around Hoseok’s shoulders and the other around someone else’s, feet dragging down a hallway. It’s night, it’s cold; Hyungwon trembles, sputtering, his eyes weighing like tons, smelling the alcohol out of his breath, making him nauseous.

He probably slurs something, because hears Hoseok saying “Hush. You’ll be fine.”

He blinks again and there’s water everywhere; Hyungwon panics for a second because thinks the petal-like sadness inside him disappeared and he became a water alchemist, condemned to live in a river or sea for all eternity.

Help, he gurgles like drowning. He is drowning; in himself, in sorrow, in fear, in the amount of drinks he had, but hands hold his wrists and pin him down. Hyungwon tries to struggle, tries to scream, but nothing comes out, not even water – he throws his body back and hits the base of his skull against something hard, cold, making him curl on himself in pain, despair, fear once again that he’s about to die.

It’s scary he can be dying now. It’s different from just wishing for death.

“Hoseok”, he tries to call. His voice sounds foreign to his own ears, but at least he manages to get it out. Where will his friend be? “Did you call Minhyuk? Oh—I can’t die yet, please call Minhyuk. He will—”

Someone shushes him again, a hand on his forehead. It’s so warm, not like the cold water surrounding him.

“He is delirious. It is getting worse, possibly?”

Then Hyungwon blinks again and it’s quiet. It’s quiet and the gray light of dawn enters through a window. He immediately thinks about Khalil, because lacks the warmth of the huge animal lying at his feet, and only then does realize this window is not his, nor is this room. It feels a little familiar, though; and when his eyes actually adjust to the partial darkness, Hyungwon feels his stomach sinking.

These are actually Minhyuk’s chambers.

He sits up suddenly but his ribs hurt, his back, his arms and his throat; it even burns, and he holds his hands to his neck as if the gesture could lessen the effect, head throbbing with the rapid and reckless movement, the sound of blood like a drum in his ears.

A hand immediately goes to his forearm, pulling him back. They force him to lie down. Hyungwon tries to resist again, but he’s pathetically weak, so closes his eyes tightly when his head touches the pillow, much softer than his own, the bedding smelling of cleanliness and sunshine, even though it will soon be winter.

“Hyungwon”, Minhyuk whispers.

Hyungwon again wonders how much is still himself and how much is garden, because it’s like the roots of the flowers inside him that make his neck turn in the direction of the hoarse whisper, that make him open his eyes.

Minhyuk, messy hair, clean face, bright eyes, slightly purple circles under them, hides partially under the covers, but looks wide awake, maybe a little tired.

Hyungwon doesn’t even know how to start. Perhaps there’s nothing to say that will be enough; he vaguely remembers one glass after another and another…

“I never heard you speak your native language before”, the prince whispers.

Tears burn the corners of Hyungwon’s eyes. It hurts to even cry.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry”, he tries, and succeeds in talking. The embarrassment is also part of why it hurts so much. “I should go back—”

“Shut up”, Minhyuk interrupts, frowning. “Stay until you feel better. It is an order.”

Hyungwon nods once, even if hesitantly.

Minhyuk then takes a deep breath and adjusts himself better, turning over onto his back. Even if the bed is big enough to fit at least two more adult men, their legs and feet touch under the sheets, Hyungwon’s cold while Minhyuk’s are warm. The slave feels a familiar sensation, as if has been through this before.

(And he does; even if never had a relationship with anyone before, he already slept with the prince known as promiscuous twice. Not even with Hoseok, who has been his friend for many years, he did such a thing, nor with Kihyun before. This is a privilege the life as a company slave didn’t guarantee.

Could it be that if he had gone to the Slaughter and won something, turned his opponents into flowers, Minhyuk would want to fuck him? Even if he’s not exactly his type? Well, Changkyun isn’t Minhyuk’s type, but he still wants him. Maybe what matters is also the position, not only an athlete’s physique?)

Silence, just the chirping of birds. Soon the prince will have to get up; or will he also remain in bed? There’s the prince’s birthday lunch, and he’s engaged now, and can Hyungwon get back on his feet? Where is Hoseok? Does—

If he doesn’t get an answer, then he has at least asked.

“Did I vomit flowers?”

Minhyuk only responds after a few seconds, when Hyungwon was already drifting off and thinking the prince was already asleep.

“They were weird, looked like bleeding hearts. I did not know you could do that.”

Hyungwon turns away too, curling in on himself, still holding his own throat.

Where would be the thorn that would stick in his heart and finally free him from his torture?

He blinks and it’s night, again.

Minhyuk is sitting in the armchair the slave usually sits at, when he accompanies the prince on sleepless nights. He’s reading a book, but this isn’t the only thing that surprises Hyungwon; it’s Khalil lying by the fire, sleeping soundly until Hyungwon coughs shortly, amused by his presence. If there was a thing Minhyuk always repeated and the reason why the dog stayed with Hyungwon, it was I do not want dog fur on my clothes and tapestry.

It seems like an exception was made for Hyungwon’s sake, even though he doesn’t want to believe such a thing lest he be disappointed.

The wolf-dog immediately raises his ears and opens his eyes, tail waving in restrained excitement as he comes closer to Hyungwon, wanting to lick his face. Hyungwon barely has the strength to tell him to stop, much less to raise his arm and push the giant face back, so it’s Minhyuk who does it for him.

“Khalil”, he says gently, more gently than he’s ever spoken to a dog in his life, or at least that Hyungwon has witnessed. “Stop or I’ll make a statue of you.”

Khalil stops licking Hyungwon’s face, but rests his head over the bed, near enough his wet, cold nose is a balm for a feverish warm skin.

“Why is he here?” Hyungwon asks, not hiding his contentment.

“Your friend, Hoseok, said he was missing you, bothering people at the house-slaves’ house. And you, missing him, obviously. I feel betrayed because just by watching this small interaction, I can notice you stole my dog ​​from me”, Minhyuk smiles like everything is fine.

Hyungwon swallows and it hurts. He’s thirsty. “Why am I still here?”

“Because for some reason your friend also said not to take you to Mohsin to look at”, Minhyuk answers, and sits on the bed, Khalil giving space for him instead climbing over the mattress. The prince grimaces, but says nothing as the dog snuggles close to Hyungwon, smelling him and licking his hand delicately, too much for a wolf-dog his size. “But of course I ignored him, because who does he think he is? Just because he is fucking my mother he thinks he’s better than me? No, that does not mean anything to me. My companion slave has been sick and I cannot call the healer who has taken care of my family for so long?” He scoffs. “So I brought Mohsin here.”

Hyungwon doesn’t say a thing. Honestly, he’s too stunned with the last statement, with the care and with Khalil in the royal palace, inside the royal chambers (also, in pain) to be able to say something.

He coughs, just a little. It seems like every time Minhyuk makes him feel this way, dear, the symptoms get worse.

Minhyuk’s face turns hard. In the candlelight, his makeup-free face appears somber, shadows of his jaw and long neck accentuated.

“Mohsin, however, said he was already treating you as best as possible and that there is some… Some secrecy between healer and patient that not even my royal authority could overcome. It is absurd, but I trust him, so I did not ask anything else. He gave you a crushed stone dissolved in water to drink, and you finally stopped grumbling and sweating so much.”

Hyungwon lowers his eyes, trying to focus on Khalil and not how his heart is beating like thunder, how it probably turned into the bleeding-heart flowers he threw up.

“Hyungwon. Be honest with me. You know I have never lied to you in my entire life”, Minhyuk whispers.

“Unfortunately”, Hyungwon tries to joke, to make the prince laugh.

Doesn’t work. “Are you sick?”

“No”, the slave immediately replies, but it’s hard to hide something that’s starting to show solid physical evidence. “It’s just… It’s transient. It’s the flu, probably. I drank a lot yesterday too.”

“I noticed you have been coughing a lot, and for quite some time now. Months. Your voice is increasingly different, hoarser, deeper. You look thinner, too.” Minhyuk frowns. Hyungwon, if had the energy, would have blushed. He remembers Choonsuk saying she thought it was absurd how the prince didn’t care about him; in reality he just wasn’t actively doing it. “Should I be worried?”

Yes and no.

“Because I am”, Minhyuk tells him when receives no answer. “I am, and in a way that is actually scaring me.”

When Hyungwon doesn’t say a word because really, again, there’s nothing to say that won’t leave him in a worse situation than he already is – Minhyuk sighs heavily, turns to the side where he had been sitting and gets up, walks to the dressing table Hyungwon already saw him having his makeup done thousands of times.

He opens a drawer, takes a flannel from inside and takes a necklace off his own neck, cleaning it and returning to the bed, sitting down. Hyungwon watches, heart beating as hard as it can, as the prince leans toward him, again standing close enough for the candlelight to illuminate his face. No longer white eyelashes but dark ones, a lot, and blemishes, wrinkles, pimples and stubble; a human being instead of a golden god.

He puts the chain around Hyungwon’s neck. It’s warm, still, with the prince’s skin warmth.

“What is this?”

“When someone is born in the Eastern Gold Alchemy Kingdom and is declared sick or has a problem, the midwife bathes a gold necklace made by the priest in running water, and puts it on the baby. The necklace grows with us. It is a different alchemy, which I, for example, did not learn.”

A trembling hand rises, and fingers touch the accessory. Hyungwon feels a lump in his throat. “And why are you giving me this?”

“When I was born, they said I was a legitimate gold alchemist because my entire skin was yellow. I came before my time, and I had frequent health problems before I was two”, Minhyuk answers. “They say gold heals. Maybe it will help heal you too.”

🌠

Hyungwon only regains his strength almost a week later. During this period, for his total astonishment, Minhyuk doesn’t want to celebrate the rest of his birthday days and spends it in his chambers, where he obligates Hyungwon to stay too; the prince refuses to leave because his company slave will not be around, and wants him to be at the palace because the house-slaves’ house is too far.

Mohsin makes regular visits, and Hyungwon is grateful he doesn’t give many details to Minhyuk, although it’s obvious his condition is worsening day by day, no matter how much the bezoar minimizes the cough and the pain. Khalil also stays, and even Hoseok is allowed into the chambers for a few moments during the day, keeping Hyungwon company when Minhyuk has to eat or meet wedding planners. He worries if Changkyun will be there, but Hoseok wisely tells him not to worry, that this ship has already sailed.

“I only wished yours would not have to”, Hoseok confesses.

🌠

It’s decided the marriage will happen on the winter solstice, when gold alchemists believe it to be a special time of the year. Shams will shine brightly and the days will continue to grow longer, warmer until he’s strong enough to bring life to everything in nature. There’s little to go, therefore; less than a month and a half.

Unlike Hyungwon’s homeland, where the summer was pleasant and cloudy and the winter was long, very cold and with strong winds, the East has summers that seem to last entire years and it rains very little, which makes the climate mostly dry all year round. This helps to worsen the symptoms – if before Hyungwon made the effort not to appear weak, now it’s as if he’s visibly deteriorating, like a flower withering with no water in a corner without light.

Every time Hyungwon holds back a cough, his nose and mouth bleed. Little by little, all he tastes is that, purely blood, and it becomes harder and harder to hold back. The red stains never leave completely, and he has to keep washing cloths and sleeves of his white tunics, even though the effort is brutal. Hoseok sees him by the water basins one day and offers to wash them, reproaching Hyungwon for not asking for help. He smiles, thinking I do not want to give any more trouble to anyone, since speaks less and less these days.

Most different of all, however, is how Minhyuk starts to behave.

Previously careless and loud, excited by the prospect of marriage to a woman who despises men and with his freedom so close to becoming real, the prince amazingly turns into a companion himself, especially since the fire alchemists need to return to their tribe to initiate preparations. One of the craziest surprises is Minhyuk’s refusal to disappear after dinner with Changkyun for their private business. The prince tells the fire alchemist it wouldn’t be wise to leave Hyungwon by himself, so he inverts the parts and is the one who accompanies his slave to the house-slaves’ house and stays a bit with him, not the other way around.

Hyungwon doesn’t understand why, but the prince tells him it’s just for safety – safety. As if anyone would do anything to a dying slave like him.

Either way, Hyungwon can’t deny that seeing Minhyuk rejecting Changkyun makes him somewhat happy, even if it also makes him feel more pain. Worse than recognizing his love is unrequited is recognizing jealousy, which he may have always felt.

The more attention and more time with the prince, the more he feels love, and the sicker he ends up becoming.

“Be sincere with me. What do you see in him?” Hoseok asks, one night Hyungwon can’t sleep. He goes down, sits at the front door of the house and sees Hoseok arriving, face flushed, smelling of women’s perfume, looking a little out of it. It’s the queen’s fault, of course. “He is ridiculous, to begin with. Egocentric, eccentric, rude, spoiled, selfish. He only cares about himself. He does not feel any resentment for being in charge or dismantling. He thinks he is more important than anyone else in this place."

“But he is,” Hyungwon says with difficulty, grimacing as swallows and purposely ignoring the compliments. "He is the future king."

“So what?” Hoseok scoffs. "You have always been the quietest, most reasonable person I have ever met. I cannot believe you found enough good in Minhyuk to love him."

Hyungwon punches Hoseok in the arm, reproaching him for saying such a thing even though no one else knows the earth alchemy’s language.

To also be honest with himself, Hyungwon never thought about why he started to like, became fond of and then fell in love with Minhyuk. At first, he shared the same opinion as Hoseok, even worse, but perhaps the complexity and gray sphere in which Minhyuk finds himself – neither too good, nor completely bad – make him such an interesting human being, so complex and intriguing, that he attracted Hyungwon’s attention enough for feelings to change over the years.

…Similar humor, too, perhaps? As much as Hyungwon is a pacific, serene person, he easily engages in the rather naughty jokes Minhyuk usually does without much effort, even though he wouldn’t actually do the atrocities he agreed to talk about. He remembers fondly of a moment when Minhyuk was gossiping terribly about some advisors during a State meeting, instead of paying attention. Hyungwon then told him, between laughs, you’re so evil, your comments aren’t pleasant, the more I hear from you, the more you prove to be despicable, to which the prince answered in the same teasing tone, you are sympathizing with it all!

Kihyun was also complex. Intense and kind, extremely angry and controlling, but patient and understanding at the same time. Great opposites have always attracted Hyungwon.

“I just got used to him”, he tells Hoseok briefly. Doesn’t give details, because even if wanted to, his physical condition wouldn’t allow him to prepare great speeches. “I find him interesting. Funny. He is always amiable to me, but I agree with everything you said.”

Hoseok snorts. He also smells like alcohol. Maybe Minhyuk has someone to take after, even if he and the queen are only related by title.

“It does not make any sense. To go through such an ordeal for someone so absurd. And you even agree!”

“Maybe I am not as reasonable as you thought. Maybe this is my biggest flaw: hypocrisy.”

“And there is more!” Hoseok raises a finger in the air. “He killed almost our entire village. He enslaved us! How can you love someone who sees you as a thing?”

“Not him, specifically, but his father.” Hyungwon arches an eyebrow, cleaning his throat. What he says is in a whisper: “So you also detest the queen, but lie with her night after night? I do not think you would be that good of an actor to fake it when you kiss her in front of everyone at dinner parties.”

Hoseok shoulders him lightly, but much stronger than Hyungwon hit him before. “I do not love her.”

Silence. Hyungwon gets his point, even thinks he’s a little resentful for what Minhyuk did to him in their first day at the kingdom.

“What is the curse of stones, after all?”

“Too much concentration of minerals in the body leads to the formation of stones within us. I drink a lot more water than the average person to prevent this. When not, I feel abdominal pain and when urinating.”

Hyungwon laughs, amused. “Want to trade?”

Hoseok shakes his head. “No, thank you. But… I wanted to ask you if this is true. If you really love him.”

Hyungwon sighs, clenching his jaw. “Apparently yes. I do not think alchemy would get it wrong like that. I did not feel the same way about Kihyun, so I do not think I really loved him.”

Hoseok seems stunned by such a revelation. “Wait—Did you love Kihyun?”

Shrug. “Somewhat. A little. For a while.” Hyungwon blushes slightly, looking down at his lap. “He was also really interesting.”

“I also liked him for a long time, but he never paid attention to me”, Hoseok tells him. “He was always with you, but I saw your relationship as a great friendship. I did not know it was love.”

“It probably was not, or if it was… It was reciprocated. Because this is the first time I have been like this.” Hyungwon tries to laugh, but starts coughing somewhat uncontrollably. Hoseok puts a hand on his back, patting him lightly to help, expression troubled. “P–pardon me. Especially because the flower curse is somewhat fatal. Unique chance.”

Hoseok looks at him with pity. It’s bothersome. “And there is no way he… I do not know, loves you back?”

Hyungwon wants to laugh a lot at such a question. It’s a fair one, though. “He said several times I am not his type.”

“Sexually, maybe not. But there is much more to a relationship than that. I dare say it is not even the most important thing.”

“For Minhyuk, yes. I think. I do not know he ever loved anyone. He never said such a thing, and he loves to tell me things.” Hyungwon side-smiles, feeling warmer than his fevers. “Enjoys the sound of his own voice too much for our goods.”

“Are you sure? He did not even love Changkyun?”

Hyungwon feels a pang in his chest. Lately, he has been having a lot of headaches and back pain as well.

“Not… Not Changkyun. He never spoke his name again after the Flame Tribe left.”

He wants to be sure, but isn’t. Minhyuk always keeps his promise not to tell sordid details about his intimate life.

They stay quiet for a little bit, the cold late autumn wind chilling their bodies.

“Tell him”, Hoseok breaks the silence. “Tell him, please. Maybe… Who knows…”

Hyungwon sadly laughs, shaking his head. He feels like a ragdoll, too, trapped by wires and his limbs moving without him being able to control them like before.

“He will never love me like I love him. I have already lost hope.”

“Then stop!” Hoseok insists, his voice a little desperate. It’s strange seeing and hearing him like this; he always seemed so calm, so disciplined. Never lost his composure, even when they were boys. “Stop loving him! You will die! When we resisted and promised that we would escape because we refused to die at the hands of some tyrant, we did it! Even if we belong to someone now, we are alive, and would remain alive for so long...” A sob, and then a hand that holds Hyungwon’s bony shoulders, shaking him like he weighs nothing. “But you will die at the damn prince’s hands anyway!”

A lump forms in Hyungwon’s throat, shocked, as he feels about to cry seeing Hoseok do so.

“I am sorry, Hoseok.”

It’s all temporary: the pain, the happiness, the sadness, the anguish. He’ll die; every day death seems closer and less scary, because if it means the end of pain, then Hyungwon will be happy. When he becomes one with the earth again and is no longer here to watch, he knows Minhyuk will find comfort in Changkyun’s arms, in the dragon tattoo, in the phoenix and salamander, and much more than what Hyungwon could offer him, had he born in another place, in another condition.

That actually would have been a blessing. Maybe if he had been a prince somewhere else, or had just died when the eastern army attacked, he would never have met Minhyuk, and never would have fallen in love.

🌠

The necklace, a birth gift, is the first golden accessory Hyungwon receives, but soon he’s full of accessories, just like Hoseok – the difference is that, instead of receiving something already done, it’s Minhyuk who makes them out of scratch.

It’s weird, too, how this is Minhyuk’s suggestion.

They sit by a table in the library and Hyungwon spends hours in silence, watching as the prince uses small tools to sculpt clay. He doesn’t realize the true purpose behind it until he asks for Hyungwon’s fingers and measures rings around them.

“What are you doing?” Hyungwon asks in a hoarse, difficult-to-listen-to voice.

“Measuring your finger to be sure the ring will fit you. It will thin out a little when I turn it to gold, but make sure you can put it on and take off comfortably.”

Not that Hyungwon has been a person of many words throughout his life, but now he’s definitely left speechless.

“You’re doing all these—” he looks around the table, more than ten pieces already done and many more in the process, “—for me?”

“Who else?” The prince half smiles, concentrated, tongue peeking between his teeth.

Minhyuk also makes pendants for necklaces and chains. The prince carefully cuts miniscule pieces to make details, and in a matter of seconds, they’re not dark brown but shining gold. Even if somewhat irregular and not perfect, still are jewels, of undeniable economic (and sentimental) value.

“Where did you learn all this?” Hyungwon asks, mesmerized.

“Learn?” Minhyuk frowns, raising his eyes from his works. “I did not learn anything.”

“Ah. Because when I learned my alchemy, the book I read said—”

“You read books?” Minhyuk snorts. “Is your alchemy learnable?”

Hyungwon nods. “Of my brothers, only I did.” Which I bitterly regret now.

“That is so curious. Gold alchemy is hereditary. If a parent is an alchemist, you are half as likely to be one. Being both parents, you are one for sure. This is why…” Minhyuk shrugs. “Anyway. You know. But there are two ways to make gold. One, is by taking it from the ground and manipulating it, like goldsmiths do. Others are meeting gold alchemists. Typically, a gold alchemist is a good goldsmith.”

“And how do you learn this, specifically?”

“Ah, in royalty this is not the case. I became interested because I spent a lot of time alone and a slave taught me.”

“You always liked being among slaves, didn’t you?” Hyungwon teases.

Minhyuk rolls his eyes, but chuckles anyway.

Hyungwon stops talking, as it tires him off, and continues watching as Minhyuk takes out a bag out of his pocket and starts threading small pearls onto a golden chain he just made. Hyungwon’s whole body feels hot, and suddenly he has a bad feeling as if there was only one reason for such warmth whenever Minhyuk did something that pleased him.

“What do you feel when you turn them into gold?”

“What do you mean?” The prince gets up, standing behind Hyungwon, silently asking him to lift his hair from his shoulders. He then places the necklace, cold, around Hyungwon’s neck and collarbones, takes a step forward and to the side, checking it. “Looks good.”

Hyungwon refuses to look him straight in the eye, instead staring firmly at his lap. “I-I mean. When I read the book to learn my alchemy, it said I should breathe deeply and feel warm all over.”

“Ah. Well…” Minhyuk sits back down, searches among his tools to start a new necklace. “Cold, I guess. The tips of my fingers and nose become cold. Feel it—” he extends both hands, dirty, but not to cause any disgust. Hyungwon is used to the earth in any shape or form, so only smiles shyly when definitely cold fingers touch his more-than-warm skin. “Hyungwon, your cheeks are red. Are you feeling feverish?”

In fact, the curse always seems to cause an afternoon fever and intense sweating at night, but in this case it’s not only because of that. Hyungwon feels the flowers forming inside him, different from the butterflies that people usually talk about. Maybe they’ll even be there, too, ready to pollinate everything when he dies – it would be a curious sight, his dead body spread open with hundreds, thousands of colorful butterflies flying into the sky.

When he’s satisfied with five necklaces, Minhyuk moves on to earrings. Hyungwon doesn’t have his ears pierced, but this doesn’t seem to be a problem, because Minhyuk makes a kind of clip that allows to press the jewelry over his earlobe and keep it in place.

“I could have pierced them for you”, he murmurs, fingers delicately grazing his pieces of work.

Hyungwon shakes his head. “The less pain I feel, the better.”

“I promise it will not hurt”, Minhyuk smiles. It’s different, the one Hyungwon saw so few times in the prince’s most vulnerable moments. He feels a knot in his stomach, a searing pain that reaches the small of his back.  “You will only feel a burning sensation, and then it will throb, but I will treat your ear with iodine in the same way I treat my piercings.”

Hyungwon makes a conflicted face, but there is no way to decline something when not in a right state of mind and health like he is now – Minhyuk so close, being so gentle.

“Well, then”, he takes a small ball from the mound of clay next to them, transforming it into tiny sunflowers, “Make me some earrings. But small.”

Minhyuk snorts, satisfied, and a few minutes later has a pair done. The yellow gold shines under the ray of sunlight that comes through the library’s colorful window and Minhyuk gets up, sitting on another chair and pulling Hyungwon’s, so he’s directly in front of him.

“Stay here,” Minhyuk tells him, and leaves for a moment, probably in search of the necessary utensils.

While waits, Hyungwon coughs up a handful of petunias.

When Minhyuk returns, in one hand he has a golden needle, and in the other a tissue and a dark bottle. He drips iodine onto the tissue, which he places behind Hyungwon’s ear, and marks his earlobe with a brush in the same red he usually paints his lips when puts on makeup.

Minhyuk frowns in concentration, tongue bitten out of his mouth, and looks at Hyungwon. “Ready?”

“Like this?”

“It will last less than two seconds.” Minhyuk comes closer, until one of his legs is between both of Hyungwon’s. “Squeeze my knee.”

Hyungwon tenses his jaw, for many reasons. “It will hurt.”

“Less to me than you”, Minhyuk smirks, but it’s quick. “I am serious. Hold on to me.”

Hyungwon obeys, and he feels warm, a little dizzy, which can’t be good for someone who’s about to be mutilated.

“Take a deep breath," the prince says in a whisper, and Hyungwon closes his eyes as exhales and feels a sharp pressure on his earlobe, the needle piercing the skin and burning everything around, a grunt of pain leaving his mouth without his control, squeezing Minhyuk’s thigh tightly. “One is gone”, he’s warned, and hisses as the earring passes through the newly made hole, burning, already throbbing. “Breathe deeply for me—”

The same is done on the other ear and so, in a matter of seconds, Hyungwon now has earrings. It bleeds, obviously, but Minhyuk doesn’t even bat an eye, sucking his red thumb without hesitation.

Hyungwon is aghast. “Did you just lick the blood that came out of my ear?”

“What?” Minhyuk laughs. “It is not the first time I have taken human blood. Yours taste quite sweet, actually.”

Hyungwon keeps staring at him as if he’s a monster.

“Anyway, it looks great”, Minhyuk smiles so widely that his eyes almost close, the wrinkles around them clearly visible, nose scrunched. He looks so happy it’s distractive, both because of how disgusting he can be, and also because of the new pain that joins so many others. “And it is not crooked! Success!”

“Did you learn from slaves to pierce ears too?” The slave still has in him to tease, even if there are black dots in the corners of his vision.

“Of course,” Minhyuk smiles, and looks for one of Hyungwon’s hands to squeeze, intertwining their fingers briefly. It steals the little air from Hyungwon’s chest for a moment. “If I had known it suited you so much, we would have done it sooner.”

At dinner, everyone looks at Hyungwon as if he was someone else. Hoseok arches his eyebrows, but they don’t have a chance to talk because Minhyuk is next to Hyungwon like a slave should be next to the prince; attentive, making sure Hyungwon eats, not giving him alcohol. He may be traumatized, but it’s probably also because Mohsin advised him not to exhaust himself any more than his own body was parasitizing him, and must have told the prince too.

When he comes back to his bedroom, he locks Khalil outside and feels proud of himself for holding back for so long.

He barely feels pain anymore, he’s used to it, but the feeling of bending forward, feeling his whole body making a frightening effort to vomit everything inside him and the flowers that grew all afternoon is still terrible.

Hyungwon lies on the floor for a while, and even dozes off for a few minutes.

He gets up, cleans the floor with a cloth and a bowl of water that he leaves at the foot of the bed for that now, and opens the door for Khalil to enter.

🌠

“I did not notice before, but I can see the bones in your cheeks”, Minhyuk says when they’re in the garden, taking care of the flowers. Hyungwon is having a hard time conjuring more since the alchemy inside himself is consuming all of his energy, but he still enjoys humoring the prince with a few different species he doesn’t remember the names but only their appearance.

The curse did make him lose a lot of weight. “Yes.”

The prince is crouched, knees against his chest, hands over them, but Hyungwon is sitting with legs crossed on the dirt, not minding it’s staining his white robes. Better this than blood.

“You look weird”, Minhyuk continues, without any filter. The impulsive child inside him that has no limits.

“Thank you.”

“It is not a compliment”, Minhyuk stupidly says, as if Hyungwon wasn’t being ironic. Sometimes the prince is too literal, as if he were innocent enough not to understand mockery while at the same time had in him to order a prisoner to be tortured by removing his nails with pliers.

The many faces of a crazy man.

“I know”, Hyungwon says. He runs his fingers through the petals around him, feeling them soft, almost as if they were nonexistent, and wonders how such beautiful things can hurt so much when they try to get out of him. Maybe it’s in fact an analogy for love: a feeling so beautiful it would be even more when divided and multiplied by two. The only thing that can be done with two mathematical operations, but that causes so much pain when it’s not.

“But with the accessories I gave you, you look more pleasing to the eye”, the prince continues. “You are handsome. It is just that now, as you are sick like this, you are becoming ugly.”

“No need to say. I see myself reflected in the water when I wash my face in the morning”, Hyungwon tells him, swallowing painfully. “If you can spare me from this type of comment, I’d appreciate it.”

Minhyuk doesn’t respond in a rude way, as expected. On the contrary: he just looks at Hyungwon with a mix of interest and something else that isn’t exactly pity. It’s complex, or maybe Hyungwon is too tired to analyze it further.

“I remember you used to have your hair braided. Choonsuk did it, did she not? It looked nice. You should wear it more often.”

Hyungwon takes a deep breath, blinks for longer than he should, as if resting his eyes. He swallows again in pain.

“I don’t know how she did it. I don’t have as much hair as you.”

“I can braid your hair if you want”, Minhyuk offers, almost without waiting for Hyungwon to finish speaking.

The slave tenses his jaw, feeling his stomach churn, warm like the first sip of alcohol on a night of celebration.

“Why… Why would you?”

“Do you want me to?”

No, Hyungwon immediately thinks. It wasn’t enough to experience Minhyuk piercing his ears and sucking his blood from his finger, now he wants to touch Hyungwon’s hair too? He won’t be able to hold back if feels like vomiting, like coughing.

Minhyuk doesn’t have time to wait for responses. Hyungwon doesn’t have strength to deny his prince’s requests, even if he’s not exactly his.

“I will sit behind you. Wait”, Minhyuk says and does, groaning as sits down on the ground and resting his hands on Hyungwon’s shoulders, untangling gray strands with his fingers, their tips against the sensitive skin of Hyungwon’s skull, due to the constant fever.

The prince works in silence for a while. Now Hyungwon’s hair reaches a little before the middle of the shoulder blades, below the trapezius. The strands are thick and there’s still plenty to work with, even though Hyungwon sometimes runs his hands through them and feels clumps coming out; he worries the same will happen as Minhyuk combs his hair, if there are bald spots he’s not aware of.

Inside him, he feels the branches stretching to his fingertips. Perhaps he can see something green growing beneath his nails.

“I will put some flowers on it. Make some gold threads out of your hair. I do the same with mine”, Minhyuk tells him after a while. The sun is high in the sky, but the wind is cold; Hyungwon curls into himself.

“You don’t do your own hair”, he tells the prince.

“Sometimes.”

“I am with you every minute since you wake up and never saw you doing your hair.”

“But does not mean I do not know how to do it”, Minhyuk argues, his hands stopping for a moment, body tilting to the side as he finally gets annoyed. “Can you stop trying to ruin the mood? I am doing it to please you.”

Hyungwon snorts. “Are you a court jester now?”

Minhyuk doesn’t reply, but he pulls Hyungwon’s hair harder in clear retaliation. He places some flowers that are close to them to decorate, using the threads still on his head and turning them into gold, but a specific flower is not nearby and he asks Hyungwon to conjure it, using the loose threads wrapped around his fingers.

“They are blue, yellow in the middle. You did them when I pierced your ears. They are healing well, as I see—although there are… Hm, I can see buds here, at the back.” Minhyuk’s index finger grazes Hyungwon’s earlobe. “Right near the earring clasp. Did I put them here by mistake, now?”

Hyungwon frowns, touching the same spot and noticing there are, indeed, flower buds on his ears, nervous. “I didn’t know. I didn’t feel it.”

“Well, it looks fine as a whole, so I will leave them here. Make me the flowers, please?”

Hyungwon doesn’t know which are the ones he’s talking about, giving Minhyuk’s description was as vague as possible, but he still tries and makes a small bunch of forget-me-nots, the first flower he could think of that met the requested characteristics.

“This! Perfect. Thank you”, Minhyuk says, and puts them in various places. “These are beautiful, are they not?”

Hyungwon hums. “They are called myosotis, but the common name is forget-me-not.”

Minhyuk snorts. “I really like these. You know, I prefer it when you make the less conventional flowers. Everyone knows roses and tulips, but there are certain flowers you give me that I would never have imagined seeing in my life.”

“You don’t like tulips?” Hyungwon asks. He constantly sees them coming out of himself, and conjures them often too.

“I like them, but I like this one more. And the sunflowers. They are big, imposing. And the daffodils, also pointy. They remind me of the sun, and as a gold alchemist, I feel a certain familiarity.”

He moves, crouches in front of Hyungwon again and holds his face up with the tips of his fingers, tilting the slave’s face up, then sideways, appreciating his work.

“Now you look pretty.”

Hyungwon blushes, averting his eyes and moving his head, so Minhyuk lets go of him. He can’t even blame summer for the rosiness of his cheeks, but can blame fevers, thankfully.

“All this to make me look less ugly”, he tries to joke.

“It is not that”, Minhyuk pouts. “You have become more handsome. Ah, pretty. Is it not how you say back in your homeland? Your face is flushed, too. It is good we get some fresh air, it might help you feel better; you looked so pale, your eyes so—” he tilts his head, “—sunken, but luminous. You have big eyes.”

Hyungwon bites the inside of his cheek, not understanding where Minhyuk wants to get by, using his own words against himself.

“Can you stop talking?”

The prince smiles. “Why? Does it embarrass you?”

Hyungwon hesitates, blushing even more. It’s indeed a noticeable change, because he’s getting paler every day to the point of becoming the same color as the clothes he wears.

Minhyuk laughs. “It is embarrassing, is it not?”

“Quiet. Stop looking at me.” He suppresses the urge to cough.

“I cannot. You are right in front of me.”

“Then turn your back. Close your eyes.”

Minhyuk laughs more, throwing his head back. The gold effects in his hair, also braided, also decorated, sway. “Hyungwon. What has gotten into you? You are so sensitive.”

“I just don’t like you pointing out things about my appearance”, Hyungwon responds, turning more until he’s showing his side-profile to the prince, overwhelmed. It’s easy to get angry. “You’ve never done this before. I don’t want you to start now”, now that I feel so horrible because of you.

The smile fades somewhat from Minhyuk’s face, becoming more pronounced on one side, but drooping on the other. He seems to understand Hyungwon is not teasing him as usual, but instead telling the truth.

“I am sorry. I just want to make you feel better.”

“For what? You’ve been too concerned about a slave’s health”, Hyungwon scoffs. Makes his throat even itchier, his urge to cough stronger. He holds it back. “Aren’t you the one who treats us as replaceable?”

Minhyuk looks at him with some disdain, his smile returning. “For someone who does not recognize me as a prince, you think too much about our social statuses. Where is your rebellion?”

Oh.

Good point.

Hyungwon doesn’t know how to respond right away, lowering his eyes and coughing muffled against his shoulder. He feels the petals, wet and slightly disgusting, on his tongue, and spits it as discreetly as possible.

“I saw that”, Minhyuk says, to Hyungwon’s frustration and even greater shame. If he could, he’d run away like did after being beaten in the corral, but even after a beating he had more physical strength than has now.

Alchemy does take everything from you. He wished he heard his grandfather.

“How do you do that?” Minhyuk asks, curious like a child. “Vomit flowers. Do you do this on purpose?”

“No”, he doesn’t lie.

Minhyuk frowns. “Does Mohsin know about that?” Hyungwon nods. “And what does he think?”

“And does he have to think about something?”

The prince sighs, rolling his eyes. “There is nothing I can do or say that will improve your bad mood, right?”

“Why do you want me in a good mood?” Hyungwon questions, also starting to get irritated, a bit anxious. He wants to cough more, badly, and his voice comes out strangled; he closes his eyes, lowers his head and brings both hands to his face, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes.

“Well, because I do not want you to be like that”, Minhyuk’s voice comes closer. “Are you having trouble hearing too? Because I already told you I want to make you better.”

“But I have to put up with you when you’re in a bad mood and I don’t insist—”

Hyungwon can’t hold it in; stands up with difficulty and tries to put some distance between them. Minhyuk also stands up, much faster, but does nothing: he just watches the slave take unsteady steps until there are a good few meters between them and Hyungwon can’t hold the dozens of petals that fall from his mouth like nothing.

At least they weren’t full, blossomed flowers.

Bent over, Hyungwon glances over his arm to where the prince stands still, mouth open in a silent exclamation. Is he disgusted? Well, for someone who has already drank human blood, maybe not. And it wouldn’t be the first time Hyungwon vomits in front of him.

Minhyuk hesitates for a moment, his body moving before his legs, but he frowns and takes determined steps towards Hyungwon, who just keeps watching, eyes half-closed, gastric juice still burning his mouth.

He grabs the slave by the elbow, leaving no room for resistance.

“W—What is it?” Hyungwon whispers.

“Hush”, Minhyuk says, and takes them silently, thankfully, and back to the palace and his chambers. Hyungwon recognizes the path, but doesn’t question it, especially because he feels feverish and weak; he even feels glad, forgetting his momentarily embarrassment and anger when the prince’s bed is presented for him to lie on.

“I am ordering you to sleep, because I will sleep and I want company”, Minhyuk says, sitting on the opposite side and taking off his shoes. “And drink the water inside the jar next to you.”

“I don’t want to”, Hyungwon replies, even though his mouth is so dry the skin of his chapped lips is peeling.

Why is it so hard to accept Minhyuk’s kindness, even though Hyungwon loves him? Why does it make him feel terrible, worse than pain?

“I did not ask. Obey”, Minhyuk orders, and lifts the covers to lie under. They’re dirty with fresh soil, with dust, but like most things, he doesn’t care about these. “Impressive. You are the most stubborn person I know, and I have known myself for twenty-eight years.”

Hyungwon doesn’t answer, taking the water and feeling it worsen the wounds inside him, but knowing it’s necessary. He’s malnourished, dehydrated; an empty body full of flowers, a human vessel.

Even under orders, even exhausted from the effort of vomiting, Hyungwon doesn’t sleep. He lies down facing Minhyuk when realizes the prince is asleep and stares at him, the red and white paint also staining the pillows, a single closed fist he keeps next to his face as if holding tightly for something, like a baby or child usually does.

It’s inevitable; on instinct, Hyungwon reaches out, uses his index finger to trace his face, removing more of the makeup; Minhyuk raises his hand and replaces the something with that finger, holding tight. Hyungwon can’t leave even if wanted to – in so many ways.

🌠

At dinner, Minhyuk feeds Hyungwon. Some people look at him in a judgmental way, but if Minhyuk never cared about other people’s comments before, he wouldn’t start to care now.

“Just one more spoonful”, he insists, voice low, one hand under Hyungwon’s chin so the food doesn’t fall into his lap. Hyungwon remains very limp, his eyes heavy. “Please. You need to—”

“Minhyuk”, the king calls. The prince only looks when Hyungwon, worried about calling attention, eats and swallows even if tears fall, the grunting and grimace he does not help to disguise it. “This slave of yours. What is wrong with him?”

“He is sick, father”, Minhyuk rolls his eyes. “Cannot see?”

“Clearly, since I was blessed with the gift of sight. Have you taken him to the healer?”

“That is why I am taking care of him.”

“You, the prince?” The king laughs, but it’s mockery. “You are not a person to care for others. You do not even take care of your dog.”

Minhyuk doesn’t answer, squinting his eyes for a second. Hyungwon wants to get up and leave, but knows he can’t.

“Your father the king means it is uncomfortable to have a sick person eating with us”, the queen adds; Hoseok immediately crouches down next to her and whispers something, which makes her laugh and kiss his cheek. It contributes to Hyungwon’s nausea. “But it is true, I did not think under this perspective. Perhaps it is the upcoming wedding that made him so charitable.”

The king raises his eyebrows in disdain. “Holy naivety.”

“Take care of yours and I will take care of mine”, Minhyuk answers loudly. The king just shrugs, a gesture that clearly means a never mind, and the queen flinches a little, but less than Hyungwon already does. “Everyone does what they want with the slaves they have. You complain when I sleep with them, and now when I take care of them too? It is no different than what you do with yours.”

Hyungwon chokes, coughing, turning red in an instant. Hoseok flinches, almost running to be next to him, but Minhyuk is faster since is sitting right next to him. He leans in Hyungwon’s direction, lifts Hyungwon’s arms and head, releasing his breath (or what’s left of it). It passes quickly, and no one else says a peep; but Hyungwon wishes death would take him now, at this moment.

“I—want to leave”, he barely voices it. To his complete astonishment, Minhyuk agrees to the request as if he were the slave – and casts a glance at Hoseok, to help him get Hyungwon to his feet.

He passes out before they can even reach the hallway.

🌠

In some moment of delirium, on the threshold between sleeping and waking, Hyungwon hears Minhyuk whisper, to himself or to someone else in the room, “I have to keep an eye on him.”

🌠

“You have to confess”, Hoseok says two days later. Hyungwon sits in the basin they use to bathe, the hot water steaming into the room. He washes Hyungwon’s hair much more gently than the prince had braided it. “I think you have a chance.”

Hyungwon smiles as if it’s funny, leaning his head against the basin’s rim.

“If I did, I would not be dying.”

“The feeling necessarily has to be explicit?”

“Just because he is being caring does not mean he loves me. Do you love me, Hoseok?”

“As a friend, always, yes. Now as a brother, even more so since we have grown so close due to the circumstances.”

“But I do not love him as a brother. It is not platonic; it is romantic.”

“The prince is stupid. He does not know what feelings are, only what makes his dick up.”

Hyungwon laughs more. He doesn’t have in him to get annoyed when Hoseok speaks ill of Minhyuk; as always, he’s right. Not his fault Hyungwon’s judgment isn’t, apparently, the best.

“I am starting to get used to the thought”, he confesses after Hoseok helps him out of the water, gives him a cloth to dry himself off and clean clothes to wear, warmed by the steam too. It feels good. It’s almost numbing, like the bezoar he needs to take again.

Hoseok frowns, offering an arm for Hyungwon to take. The bath house is separated from the main house, so they have to walk a small dirt road until are home again. “What do you mean?”

“With death”, Hyungwon explains. They walk slowly, because he can barely stand on his feet. “Look at all this suffering. No life is worth this much.”

“Do not say such nonsense”, Hoseok scolds him, looking at him with stern eyes. “You are tired. Cannot reason properly.”

“Of course I am tired”, Hyungwon scoffs. “But it is because I am going to die. There is no denying it.” He grimaces in pain as a cold wind blows past them; it makes breathing worse, on top of everything else. “Do you think I will hold on until the wedding?”

“Shut up, Hyungwon, please”, Hoseok begs softly, clicking his tongue in frustration. “You go to sleep and tomorrow we will see Mohsin again.”

🌠

The healer gives him the bezoar, a pity look and holds his hand, caressing the bony knuckles as examines Hyungwon, wrists bleeding a quite respectable amount. Apparently, there’s a lot of effort that needs to be made to analyze his situation.

“Do not exhaust yourself”, Mohsin advises. “If you want to be alive until marriage, do not push yourself to the brink. Try to preserve your health.”

🌠

“Are you going to sleep here?”

Hyungwon is in the armchair that has always been his spot when making Minhyuk companion before his sleep, but he can’t rest himself. He’s sweating even though it’s cold, but he doesn’t have much strength or desire to take off his layers of clothing, staring at the fire in the fireplace, listening to the burning of the logs. It makes him think of other things, other people, and he ignores the prince at first, only thinking about his jealousy.

Honestly, what a ridiculous feeling.

“No”, he responds, clearing his throat.

“Why?”

“Because I have my own bed”, he replies, and slowly turns his face toward the bed. Minhyuk is lying there like a child, in fact, the bed looking too big, the blankets too bulky. “And my own bedroom, and Khalil waiting for me.”

“So if Khalil was here, would you?” Minhyuk asks.

Hyungwon frowns a little bit. The tips of his fingers are ice cold, and his joints hurt a little.  “What’s wrong with you? Why do you want me to sleep here so often now?”

Do you want to kill me?

“You seem to be stuck in the chair. I am too comfortable to walk you to your house right now.”

Hyungwon scoffs. “I don’t need company. It’s fine."

Minhyuk rolls his eyes. “I do not care if you want company or not. If I ask someone to bring Khalil, will you stay?”

Hyungwon sighs heavily, even with shortness of breath. He grunts, grimacing, and gets up from the chair with some difficulty.

“Standing too close like this could end up giving you my disease”, he tries to disguise.

“Mohsin said it is not contagious. Only in one specific circumstance, which he didn’t want to tell me.” The prince squints. “Very loyal, the healer. More than I imagined.”

“And you feigning concern will make me believe you’re a charitable soul.”

“Of course I am”, Minhyuk frowns, genuinely offended. “What do you mean, pretending? Do you think it is not genuine? Do you think that if I did not like you, I would not have killed you already?”

He has a point here, and where Hoseok keeps insisting on when he questions why Hyungwon likes him so much.

Why didn’t he leave Hyungwon to die, two and a half years ago, when he was running away, hungry?

Why did he always insist on his presence, why does he let Hyungwon tell the truth and in fact contradict him and even treat him as an equal, not recognizing one hundred percent his real authority?

And how could he have done this only to Hyungwon, to the point everyone in the palace and outside knows that he is the only slave who’s lasting the longest in the position?

Before Hyungwon can reach the doorknob, Minhyuk is on his feet and opening the door himself. The guards outside look at him in surprise, finding Hyungwon right behind, clearly not understanding what is going on either.

“One of you, go to the slaves’ house and bring me my dog. Or send another slave to bring him. Now.”

“Minhyuk—”

“And a change of clean clothes for Hyungwon. And water”, Minhyuk closes the door, turning around and blocking the passage. “What is it?”

Hyungwon doesn’t answer. He tries, knows he shouldn’t be fooled by such behavior knowing Minhyuk well, but it’s impossible. Maybe it was like this, deceiving himself, that he fell in love; despite Minhyuk’s detachment and lack of concern for other people’s lives, with Hyungwon he is always so exceptionally concerned, strangely good, doing things he had no reason to do when there was nothing to gain from it.

Hyungwon shakes his head, feeling it light. He should sit, and does so at the foot of the bed, feeling his stomach churn.

“I want to vomit”, Hyungwon is sincere, thinking that this will somehow influence the prince’s decision.

Minhyuk walks in the bathing chamber’s direction, taking a basin and bringing it back to the bed, putting it on Hyungwon’s lap. “Then do so.”

Hyungwon closes his eyes, feels saliva pooling in the back of his mouth. “Are you not disgusted?”

A snort. “It would not be the first time I see you doing so. You vomited on my floor once, and I bathed you after you felt sick from eating and drinking so much, I do not know if you remember – more than once. I am not disgusted by basic physical activities a human being can do.”

“You speak like you’ve already been through all the disgusting things”, Hyungwon comments, taking deep breaths, trying to remember what Mohsin said to do when he felt like his blood pressure was dropping.

Does he still have blood in his body? Or would everything have turned into roses?

Minhyuk smirks. “There is no way you could know. I will not tell you, either.”

“Perfect”, Hyungwon coughs, a few petals coming. “So, you aren’t disgusted by anything?”

“Only women”, Minhyuk answers with a shrug, and in the middle of an automatic laugh, Hyungwon can’t hold himself back anymore.

🌠

An hour later, Khalil is lying on the floor on Hyungwon’s side. He changed his clothes, the basin is clean, and Minhyuk only relaxes when is sure everything is done and alright. He arranges the covers over them, carefully tucking Hyungwon under like one would do with a newborn. When lies down, facing Hyungwon like never before, the slave wants to turn his back on him, but is in too much pain in every muscle to even blink.

Already knowing the prince by heart, even with his eyes closed, Hyungwon can hear Minhyuk’s brain working to form the greatest absurdities ever heard by a human being, which are expressed in the form of the following words: “I wish I could vomit gold.”

Hyungwon scoffs. It’s a piercing pain. “You… You talk so much nonsense you sound like a child. Sometimes I think you don’t know what you’re saying to say what you say.”

Minhyuk laughs. He always laughs at Hyungwon’s insults. “What? It would be impressive.”

“There’s nothing good about vomiting. It hurts.” Especially for the reason I am hurting.

“I know, do you think I’ve never had stomach problems before? Or that I never had a hangover?” Minhyuk asks, rolling his eyes. “How do you do that? Is it conscious, like you vomit flowers?”

Hyungwon clenches his jaw, flexing his cold toes to try to warm himself up. He feels feverish again, but it could just be weakness. “No. It’s just part of my alchemy.”

“What?”

“Being a flower.”

“So you are like a giant garden? Because I saw you puking different ones.” Minhyuk chuckles, even though Hyungwon is telling him part of the truth, even though there’s nothing cool about slowly dying as a victim of your own heart's betrayal. “Which flower would you be, if turned into one?”

What a perfect irony, Minhyuk describing so well what is happening even if he doesn’t know.

“A purple hyacinth.”

“Why?”

“Just because.”

Minhyuk accepts this answer, observing carefully the pale face, the lips stained with coughed and expelled blood, the withered cheeks and the lifeless hair spread across the pillow.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Hyungwon makes a low noise in his throat, frowning slightly when even that hurts.

“You are the only person I have ever slept with.”

This makes the slave open his eyes, the cold he’s feeling disappearing for a moment with how warm his insides turn. Damned body.

“You—” a cough, “—don’t sleep with your…”

“No”, Minhyuk answers before Hyungwon can finish. “Why sleep? I am meeting them for something specific. Sleeping requires a lot of confidence and courage. I would not be alert, if they did something to me.”

“But you can die anyway, at any moment of vulnerability. They can pull out a dagger and kill you, a spear if they’re a guard, or—”

“There is only one thing I can be impaled with”, Minhyuk laughs at his own joke, Hyungwon only understanding after a few seconds.

“You’re rotten.”

“Oh, shut up”, the prince moves a little, looking up and then returning to his initial position, a smile still on his face. “Sleeping for me is so useless that I feel like I am wasting time when I do it.”

“It’s all I’d like to do”, Hyungwon says sincerely, even more so now in this delicate situation. “Why do you nap, then?”

“Because then I can postpone my tasks for a few hours.”

“So, do you want time for yourself to do nothing useful?”

“Sex is very healthy. In fact, that must be why you are like this. You lack sex. They say it is good for the skin and hair.”

Hyungwon moves, Khalil lifting his head, and coughs behind the dog, so as not to do it in front of the prince; at least no more petals come out.

“You are not having sex when you nap.”

Minhyuk wiggles his eyebrows. “Not that you know.”

Hyungwon does the effort of rolling to the opposite side, the prince laughing and holding him in place. “Why do you get so upset when I talk about it? Are you a virgin?”

Hyungwon blushes. “Because I don’t think it’s any of my business”, he responds, eyes down to the space between them.

“But I never had anyone to tell”, he pouts, a little ridiculous. Spoiled brat. “Even if you have never had sex with anyone, know that you will eventually. It will be fun. You can even ask me for advice.”

Hyungwon wants to laugh because he’s pretty sure he won’t live enough for it, and because of Minhyuk. It makes him very disconcerted to even think about holding Minhyuk’s hand, about being close like this; when he was getting his ears pierced he could barely look up. The thought of having something more is enough to make him want to vomit again, but from anxiety — but if Minhyuk shared the same romantic feelings, maybe they would have had to get to this point.

“So how come everyone knows about your sex life, then?” He ignores Minhyuk, trying to move on the subject.

“I associate with all kinds of men, and men talk”, Minhyuk shrugs, like doesn’t care – Hyungwon knows him enough to know he doesn’t, truly.

“Not all of them”, Hyungwon finds himself saying without meaning to. When Minhyuk arches an eyebrow, he stammers, “I-I mean. You keep saying you like a specific type of man.”

“But I do. I like big men who can protect me”, Minhyuk smiles, but there’s no malice in it. He’s being sincere, even if Hyungwon, also sincerely, doesn’t want to know. “Like a bed.”

Hyungwon scoffs, closing his eyes and paying attention to everything but his vision. “How would a bed protect you?”

“You do not feel safe here?”

No answer.

Minhyuk snorts, like expected at Hyungwon’s silence. “Anyway, like I was saying, I have never slept with any man. You are the first. That means I like you. I even think we could be friends.”

Hyungwon blinks. He can physically feel the garden inside moving with the wind caused by the butterflies in his belly. “But—I’m still your slave.”

“Yes, but I do not see you as something dispensable”, Minhyuk tells him. “This is why I am trying to give you as much comfort as possible. I know you are not well and it does not make me happy to see you so unwell.”

What flower will come out of Hyungwon, if Minhyuk continues saying things like these?

“Can we sleep?”

Minhyuk pouts, but more this time. Almost his entire lower lip juts out. “You used to talk to me”, he says. “We used to talk a lot. Now it seems like you want to avoid me. What did I do to you, Hyungwon?”

“Nothing”, he responds quickly. He feels the lump in his throat, wants to turn around again. “You didn’t do anything. It’s just—it’s just that I’m not having the best of days.”

"I know”, Minhyuk smiles, quite fondly even. “But you will be alright. I know you will be alright.”

Hyungwon smiles back, inevitably, at the optimism and certainty in Minhyuk’s words. It’s as if he believes with all his might when Hyungwon himself has already given up.

Would Minhyuk still be so kind if he confessed? Hyungwon can’t protect him like a bed. He can barely stand.

“Let’s sleep”, he whispers, and when he turns over, Minhyuk doesn’t roll him back.

🌠

The next morning, he wakes up with his hand inside the prince’s iron grip again. He doesn’t dare move, and the petals that fall from his mouth seem to know it’s still too early, because they are gently expelled like pulling a hair out of your mouth, not coughed up.

🌠

Two weeks before the wedding, Hyungwon falls down the stairs of the palace, his legs lacking the strength to lift him and his arms unable to hold on to the handrail. Guards find him suffering from pain, but he asks them not to warn the prince but to call Hoseok, the queen’s slave whom they call Translator. When they leave him alone, he lies on the floor at the foot of the stairs groaning in pain, contorted, arms around his stomach and coughing so much he can barely breathe.

In a desperate movement, he sticks his fingers down his throat and pulls out whole flowers, already blossomed, the petals stained with blood and saliva, sharp thorns tearing his pharynx.

Hoseok finds him some time later, unconscious, and carries him on his back to the house slaves’ house. There he helps him check for any injuries, and to their terrible shock, they see that where scratches and bruises should be, there are purple flowers as if drawn on the skin and small sprouts sprouting from the open cracks, mixed with blood.

“You are starting to grow flowers everywhere”, Hoseok observes, mouth open. He looks at Hyungwon, eyes wide going down Hyungwon’s figure, “Also… Could it be that—”

“No”, Hyungwon blushes furiously. He feels dizzy, still. There’s nothing to throw up, but he feels like he could at any moment, and it'll be hard to kick Hoseok out when it happens. “I did not know that was possible. I only used to vomit, or vomited.”

This is when he understands why there are flowers growing from the hole in his lobe; where there’s space, the flowers are trying to come out.

Maybe if he opens his leg, an arm, will it relieve the pressure inside his chest?

Hoseok looks scared, but thankfully not disgusted. Hyungwon understood where he was going with that question.

“Fuck. Fuck. What is this? Hyungwon, I—”

“Just get me some scissors. I will pluck these flowers.”

Hoseok laughs, scandalized. “Are you insane? It will hurt! You do not know how deep the roots are!”

“Deeper than they should, anyway”, Hyungwon says. “Now go quickly. Minhyuk is sleeping and I have to be back in less than an hour.”

When Hoseok comes back, he brings a towel for Hyungwon to chew on and some alcohol. He drinks the glass in one only movement and gets ready, but can’t finish the procedure: it hurts more than hell, more than any other pain, and it has been Hyungwon’s old companion for many months now he didn’t know it was possible to feel more.

Hoseok tries, then. He gets more, but Hyungwon feels the roots being pulled so much that he vomits again, this time just flowers but no stems.

“I should have died”, he says, delirious, after drinking an entire bottle of liquor. Khalil is next to him, licking his hand that hangs off the bed, while Hoseok goes to get Mohsin. “I should have died at home. I would have been buried and turned into flowers without feeling so much.”

🌠

Mohsin takes the cup back, watching as Hyungwon swallows with difficulty the water and the bezoar. There are some more sprouts growing from where the flowers were, because in trying to pull them out, Hyungwon hurt himself where he was already hurt and now it’s the curse saying hello.

“It is stopping having an effect. You feel it, do you not?”

Hyungwon nods, feeling the thorns perfectly piercing his chest.

“Look, I do not know who the object of your affection is, but if you want some advice: I would be honest. If they really do not respond to your feelings, then at least you…” Mohsin makes a sad face, also one of pity. “At least you die with a clear conscience.”

I am, Hyungwon grabs a note and writes. His voice is completely gone. I’ll be laughed at if I reveal such feelings.

“Why?” The healer asks, dumbfounded. “There is no way. No love should be scandalized or ridiculed.”

Hyungwon smiles weakly. Maybe this one should.

🌠

Minhyuk finds out, because there’s no way he wouldn’t. To Hyungwon’s complete surprise, the prince doesn’t say anything, nor scolds him, nor freaks out: he just forces Hyungwon to sleep in his chambers again, being able to bring Khalil like last time and more clothes, almost like a permanent change.

“I don’t want to”, he tells Minhyuk with difficulty, both sitting on Hyungwon’s bed. The weak winter sun shines through the window, so different from the first time the prince appeared there.

“You got hurt and said you did not want them to call me. This is not an invitation, is an order, and I am even happier if it is unpleasant for you. What happened to you that stopped taking my orders seriously, as if I was one to ask something of you?”

Hyungwon wants to argue and would to, be it a year and a half before. Now he hasn’t been able to speak for a few days now, oriented by the healer but also because it became more painful than coughing and vomiting flowers, so he keeps silent.

He moves into Minhyuk’s chambers then – no one, neither the king nor the priest, criticizes this decision, since Hyungwon’s deteriorating state is visible even to the blind. More purple flower designs appear beneath his skin, and his dark circles deepen; he can see the clear outline of the ribs under the skin as if was a slightly gray sack full of bones, and there’s nothing that makes him eat like he used to, a terrible loss of appetite that does nothing to help any attempt to at least try to stay alive before the flowers within him take him.

They must be orchids, even if he practically vomits the same flowers. They’re parasites.

The worsening is notable. Little does the prince know that, in his intention to help, he is only making the curse worse and hastening Hyungwon’s death, whom he cares for so much (apparently).

🌠

Twelve days before the wedding, the Fire Alchemy Tribe court arrives in the East and this time it is much more crowded. The leader can’t be absent, apparently, but Choonsuk’s mother and his first son with his wife, a psyche alchemist, and all the other children, including Changkyun, of course.

Minhyuk no longer spends every moment of the day glued to him, but during meals it’s next to him the prince sits, momentarily forgetting Hyungwon. He still orders other slaves to feed him, but Hyungwon dismisses them after the prince is gone to a corner and only lets Hoseok take care of him (but not after some insistence). Hyungwon, always very discreet, always wanting to blend in with the decor and leave all the focus on Minhyuk, now has to endure the looks of disgust, curiosity and pity from other slaves and even members of royalty – but he ignores it keeping his head down, sitting on a cushion near the throne with his body resting on it, shivering with the afternoon fevers.

When it’s time to retire to sleep, Minhyuk has Changkyun in tow. Hyungwon frowns, shakes his head, afraid the prince will bring the fire alchemist with him – but before he can say anything, gather the strength to do so, Minhyuk reassures him with a touch that has never happened before: hand cupping his cheek, thumb pressing again the middle of it with intention.

“Wait a second. I will say goodbye to Changkyun.”

The fire alchemist seems surprised by such words, as much as the slave by the touch… somewhat intimate.

“I came back from a trip after being apart for a month, and you’re not going to spend the night with me?” He gestures with his head, indicating Hyungwon with his chin, his face contorting in disgust, “Because of a slave?”

Minhyuk frowns. “How, because of a slave? Hyungwon is my slave.”

“You have thousands of them here and I never saw you even thinking about them! While this one always has to be around—”

Hyungwon is shocked. He’s never been around to watch how Minhyuk deals with his romantic affairs, but from what the prince has always said, he’s never dated nor been properly courted, never been in a serious relationship, and Changkyun demands exclusivity from him as if they were in one.

“Oh, please”, Minhyuk rolls his eyes. “We spent the whole day together.”

Why isn’t he going? Why does he prefer to be with Hyungwon?

“You—you can go”, Hyungwon whispers.

“But I do not want to”, Minhyuk tells him over his shoulder, not looking exactly, just his side-profile. “Changkyun, go and rest. As you said, you just returned from your trip. If we are going to have sex, I want you rested to put up with me. But tonight—”, he sighs, “—I want to sleep in my own bed. And no more discussion.”

Changkyun opens his mouth to argue, but Minhyuk puts his index finger in front of his lips, shushing him, and turns away without saying anything else.

He links his arm with Hyungwon’s, and down the hall they go.

Minutes later, when Minhyuk already has nothing on his face and they are both lying in bed, silent but clearly awake, Hyungwon asks, voice scratching his throat, “Why didn’t you stay with Changkyun?”

Minhyuk turns around. He always sleeps with his back to Hyungwon. “I already told you. Do I need to keep explaining?”

Hyungwon, covered up to his neck, stares at Khalil’s sleepy figure, his back rising and falling as he warms himself by the fire in the fireplace. “No. I… I only thought it was strange. Before he left, all you wanted to know about was him.”

Minhyuk shrugs. “Yes, but the situation was different. You are unwell.”

A lump forms in Hyungwon’s throat. Hmm. Bad timing. For some reason he still feels angered at the prospect of Minhyuk choosing Changkyun, even if it didn’t happen.

“And since when is a slave’s health more important than your boyfriend?”

A shuffle of covers, and Minhyuk uses one of his hands to turn Hyungwon up so they can look at each other. The prince is sitting on the bed, his hair tied into a bun on top of his head, an irked and serious look. It’s even intimidating to be on the other side of it for the first time.

“The day I fall in love and stay with just one man, you can be sure I am sick”, he says. “I would never give so much importance to another person like that. It would take a miracle to happen.”

“So it would make the two of us”, Hyungwon responds without thinking much, only to realize a second later he shouldn’t have said anything.

“What do you mean?” Minhyuk asks, both confused and irritated.

Hyungwon averts his eyes, cowardly. “Nothing.”

“Stop messing around. Tell me. It is an order.”

“You keep using this excuse all the time”, Hyungwon tries to change the subject, but fails, of course. There is no one more stubborn than the man beside him.

“Because I am the prince and I must be obeyed”, Minhyuk reminds him. “I want to know what you meant by it would make the two of us.”

Hyungwon opens his mouth to speak, but he can’t put into words he’s also sick for having given so much importance to someone. It won’t be now, on the verge of death, that he will humiliate himself for Minhyuk. It may be stupid, but he feels ashamed of such a feeling, afraid of the prince’s reaction, so unstable.

“Never mind. I don’t want to talk anymore. My… My throat hurts.” He sniffs, closing his eyes tightly. “Can… Can you just not talk to me?”

Minhyuk blinks, mouth twitching. If didn’t have a history of fever deliriums, Hyungwon would say he looks offended.

“If you do not want to stay here, you can leave. Return to the slave house. I am being kind and you are still being stubborn.”

“Alright”, Hyungwon nods. “I’m sorry.”

“You better be. I want you close to me to make sure nothing happens. You recently fell, you can barely speak anymore, you keep vomiting flowers and blood. Mohsin told me there is no cure. What am I supposed to do in a situation like this?”

Hyungwon wants to rip his chest open and show its insides to Minhyuk, give his heart to him like one would with a bouquet. “I don’t know. I wanted to be alone.”

Minhyuk groans, and when Hyungwon looks at him, he thinks he sees tears in the man’s eyes. It can be a light effect; most probably is. “Why? Why do you push me away like this?”

Pains him just the same. Hyungwon coughs, tears falling from the corners of his eyes.

“I’m—not pushing you away.”

“Yes, you are!” Minhyuk shouts, exasperated. “I already asked, what did I do to you? Why does it seem like you get worse when I am around?”

Because I do! Hyungwon tries to respond in kind, but it hurts, so he turns to his left side to cough heavily, a flower coming out of his mouth with no resistance; at least it’s way smaller than the ones he usually vomits.

It doesn’t soften Minhyuk’s anger, but he still worries, still places a hand on his back. “Please, Hyungwon. What is wrong? Why do you do these things? I do not want to make you worse, but I do not know—”

Stay away from me, Hyungwon thinks. It’s because of him that Hyungwon is so sick, it’s because of him that Hyungwon now limps since his knee won’t heal, the striped carnations budding and growing slowly. It’s scary, seeing what’s happening inside him spilling out on the outside; he wonders if his lungs look like that too. It’s also beautiful, because they’re flowers, but at the same time terribly gruesome.

“I… I think it’s better.”

Now Minhyuk’s anger dissolves in an instant, like someone blowing out a candle. “What?”

With great difficulty, Hyungwon sits on the mattress, puts on his shoes, adjusts his clothes over his body. Khalil lifts his head from the ground, at first with small eyes, but then very attentive, coming towards the slave.

“Hyungwon,” Minhyuk calls. He has anger in his voice, but it’s also a little out of tune. Like pleading; except the prince never pleads.

It’s just as painful to say, “I’ll go back to my room. I’m disturbing you”, but necessary.

What if he dies in this bedroom? Turns into rotten flowers right beside Minhyuk?

The prince also gets out of bed, pulls him by the arm. Hyungwon almost loses his balance, the dog barking once in alarm; Minhyuk holds him by the shoulders, scared. It’s obvious he never had to deal with anyone sick, even though Hyungwon’s situation is now more than this, critical. He barely knows how to behave, where to hold.

“You look like you are becoming stupid too. Have you forgotten I do not like being contradicted? Have you forgotten I can have you killed if I want?”

Hyungwon laughs. It hurts, and he suffocates a bit, bending over, Minhyuk gasping as the sound conveys such pain to whoever hears it.

“Will you—will you do me this favor?” Hyungwon rasps.

Minhyuk shakes him, quite violently. “Why? Do you want to die?”

His eyes are wide, his mouth is half-open, only his top teeth are visible beneath his dry lips. There are even small cuts there. Hyungwon wonders if his blood is sweet too.

“I just do–don’t want you to stop living because of me.”

“But I am not. I am—” Minhyuk sounds desperate, blinking fast and looking up and down at the man in front of him as if he can’t see him clearly; but he changes his mind as soon as the words leave his mouth and moves away from Hyungwon. “Go, then. If you want to go so badly, I will not force you to stay.”

Hyungwon snorts. Isn’t this, the definition of their dynamic?

He turns away, limping in the door’s direction, Khalil right behind, but stops with his hand on the doorknob when Minhyuk speaks again: “And send a guard to find Changkyun. Since you are not here to get in the way anymore.”

His blood pressure drops instantly. Hyungwon barely has the strength to speak, “Are you—are you going to bring him here?”

“What I do after you are gone is none of your business, Hyungwon.”

🌠

Minhyuk is spiteful. Hyungwon forgot about this.

The next morning, sleeping poorly as always, Hyungwon receives information from another slave that Minhyuk is relieving him of his duties until he feels better. This includes staying in bed, as the prince doesn’t want you wandering around if you have no reason to.

“His words”, the girl says, her face flushed with embarrassment. “Are you with the flu? Where I come from, we make soup for those who are sick, it’s a ginseng chicken soup. I can make it for you, if you want.”

Hyungwon nods, not knowing what else to answer, tears turning into petals falling from his eyes.

Hoseok is furious when finds out. “And the wedding? And his duties? You are the one who organizes his whole day! He cannot dismiss you!”

He does not need me anymore, Hyungwon writes. When he discovered he was no longer useful, his voice disappeared almost immediately, and no matter how much he tries to speak, now it’s as if there’s something stopping him from the inside out. He doesn’t even want to know what it is. Everything has already been decided.

Hoseok looks at what was written and at Hyungwon, shaking his head. “You cannot love this man. He saw you are sick and does not want to see you anymore, is that it? And instead of killing you, which would be quicker, he wants you to waste away until the end?”

Hyungwon shrugs. Even after all this time, he doesn’t really know what goes inside of Minhyuk’s brain. He’s too unique of a person to be easily understood.

The problem is that Hyungwon is even banned from entering the palace. He tries the same afternoon, because he wanted to sit for a while in one of the woods inside, but is stopped by guards who clearly feel sorry and don’t agree with what they are doing, but can’t let him pass.

“Prince’s orders”, one of them says, giving a smile that has a hint of compassion. “Sorry.”

Khalil, always beside him, looks at Hyungwon with confusion, already accustomed to such a journey. Hyungwon pats him on the head as if asking him to forget about it, and is about to turn around when another slave approaches, a tall one with a kind face, who is also following orders.

“Hyungwon”, he smiles, but it soon disappears. He seems to hesitate, looking down at the floor. “I knew you would come. I need to do something. The prince who sent it asked me to bring it with me.”

Hyungwon frowns, but when looks down, he understands.

He also wants Khalil.

And it shocks him, suddenly and even though it shouldn’t be a surprise, that Minhyuk was also cruel to him just for not answering an order, a request, that he went to sleep in the same place as him.

He doesn’t like to be contradicted.

Would he be in Changkyun’s arms now? Would he be enjoying the start of the rest of his life, with the possibility of sleeping with whoever he wants because he already has a wife? Hyungwon won’t be able to see the wedding either? What about Choonsuk and Hyunja, Minji? He won’t see them either, even after the ceremony?

Will he be banished forever from the prince’s life? Will he never again see Khalil, with whom he formed a bond of affection and trust in such a short time, who was truly by his side at all times?

With difficulty, he returns to the house-slaves’ house and throws himself on the bed, his legs shaking with effort, back burning and sweating cold, both in anger and pain. There’s no longer any desire to cry in him.

Oh, how he wishes he could open his body with his own bare hands and pull out the feelings inside along with all the flowers, die at once!

But committing suicide requires courage, something Hyungwon doesn’t have. Still, even now, he can’t feel anger towards Minhyuk but rather a curiosity to understand the motivation behind his attitudes, the sudden desire to stay by Hyungwon’s side, all the attention he gave – not that he didn’t do it before, but now it was more, it was different, it was a bit uncomfortable, to be honest.

Why did Hyungwon reject him?

Would confessing, as Hoseok suggested, really not have been a good idea?

Could it be that the sudden care and concern really meant nothing more? But why would he have said, then, that the day he devoted himself entirely to a man would be the work of a miracle?

His stomach hurts; it goes up to his neck and pokes like the guards’ spears, but Hyungwon can’t vomit. He can’t even cough, breathe, or make any sound. It’s clearly suffocation; starts with the air that doesn’t reach, despair, hands around the neck—

Desperate, he looks for the basin of water under the bed, which Hoseok refilled when visited, and puts a finger in his throat, as deep as he can, trying to force vomiting. He knows he shouldn’t do this, that it’s not at all healthy to force such physical effort, but in a critical situation where he can no longer breathe there’s nothing he can do.

He doesn’t need to go very deep with his index finger to feel, open and blossoming, a flower inside his throat, trying to come out. Eyes wide, trying to calm down because he knows if he gets frantic it will be even harder to breathe, Hyungwon opens his mouth as wide as he can, trying to at least grab the beginning of the flower’s stem with his index and middle fingers. He almost reaches it, his throat complaining from both invasions, his eyes filling with tears, his vision darkening and the strength that adrenaline gives him slowly fading, and he gasps in despair; this is not how he expected to die, drowned in himself, rejected and pushed away like he tried to do with Minhyuk, with the weight on his conscience that Mohsin advised him not to die with.

That so-called accommodation with death disappears, so close to it, staring at it with bulging eyes, red face, and he closes them, trying harder, his jaw strained and heart desperately beating—

Hyungwon doesn’t want to look into the eyes of death. They’re too scary.

The gag reflex kicks in, and he coughs, the veins in his neck popping, his head throbbing, his whole body screaming and leaning forward until he falls to his knees, supporting himself on his hands in a painful manner, on all fours and vomiting up almost an entire bouquet of purple hyacinths.

How ironic.

Hyungwon passes out, of course. A child-slave finds him only a few hours later, and screams for help until someone appears; luckily it’s Hoseok. Hyungwon doesn’t know what happens until he wakes up again, but when he does, he’s with Mohsin, just the two of them.

He tries to ask the healer what happened, but what comes out of his mouth when he moves it and tries to speak are just baseless, low-pitched sounds.

“Shh”, Mohsin puts a hand on his chest, makes him lie down again. “You cannot talk anymore. Thorns have eaten away your throat.”

🌠

“This man is a pest”, Hoseok says, feeding Hyungwon soup. He’s not hungry, he doesn’t want to eat anything, but Hoseok keeps pushing the spoon in front of his face no matter how much he turns his head away. “I wish he would die. I really do. I wish all these people would die.”

It’s kind of hard to believe those words when he has a hickey necklace around his clavicles, barely hidden by the collar of his tunic and gold accessories. Either he’s a great actor, or he’s just sympathetic to Hyungwon’s suffering.

Hyungwon lifts one of Khalil’s ears, who’s lying next to him on the bed, his huge face in his lap. The wolf-dog doesn’t even move, dark huge eyes always attentive.

“Whether you like it or not, when things get ugly, I am going to tell him the truth.”

Hyungwon stops, turns to Hoseok in despair. No, he thinks, shakes his head vehemently. Anything but this.

“What do you care? Did you not say you accepted the idea of ​​death?” Hoseok insists for him to eat. “Well. Do not worry. I want to make sure Minhyuk feels guilty for the rest of his miserable little life.”

🌠

Hyungwon retreats. He spends days lying down. He can’t even eat, Hoseok giving up feeding him, and once again death approaches, this time more fatal and faster than ever. He knows he will die soon; won’t see the next season, or even the next year, in just a few days. He’ll die without saying goodbye, quite possibly – but it’s for the greater good. He won’t be missed; Minhyuk will find someone else, probably Changkyun himself, who will keep him entertained and happy for the rest of his life.

He hopes not to wake up every single time goes to sleep. Doesn’t work; he’s still alive morning after morning.

In his dreams, though, Hyungwon sees himself receiving various flowers, but can’t figure out who they’re from. When he opens his mouth to thank them, it’s not words that come out but more flowers. There’s no pain, no effort – they float, and it’s beautiful to see, just like the fog that surrounds him and obscures his vision, which leaves him calm, serene…

🌠

Two days before the wedding, Hyungwon wakes up, follows his entire morning routine a little slower due to his physical condition, and when opens the door to hang some clothes out to dry, the prince and the wolf-dog are there. Minhyuk doesn’t have a white face, red lips and cheeks; instead has loose hair, dark circles under his eyes, just a normal man adorned in gold.

“I have been waiting for you”, he says, and offers his arm.

Hyungwon stares at Minhyuk as if he were a dream, an apparition, heart beating violently against his chest.

“Come on”, the prince insists, taking Hyungwon’s arm himself and intertwining it with his. Again: this is how he usually walks around with Changkyun; how couples usually walk. It’s another one of those touches, another one of those random affections and after such cruel, painful treatment.

He feels resentment towards Minhyuk, but seeing him again is so good; makes no sense. There’s a certain masochism in love, perhaps.

Khalil doesn’t hide the excitement of seeing Hyungwon again, but very carefully smells him when the slave crouches to pet his head, hugging him tightly. He missed the wolf-dog, missed the silent company. It’s hard, and sometimes he forgets he can’t talk, but Khalil never needed him to speak to follow him around like would with a pack leader.

“The day will break soon, so the air is still humid enough for us to go for a walk”, Minhyuk tells him while observing the interaction, like they never stop doing it, like those healthy days had never been interrupted. “Come.”

And Hyungwon, as always, has no option but to follow him.

The prince talks a lot as usual, like he did before he decided to give Hyungwon the cold shoulder, as if nothing happened. The relief of Minhyuk’s presence, the happiness of being remembered again passes quickly. Even with the bad judgment that led him to fall in love with Minhyuk, Hyungwon feels considerably irritated, since Minhyuk decided to take everything from him at a time of such fragility, but he doesn’t even have a way to verbalize it.

“Choonsuk and I have been talking”, he starts. “My opinion of her has changed a lot! She is sweet, even – the sweetest a woman can be to me, of course. Hyunja does not talk much, but she is like a guard dog, too. She is stricter, and suspicious. Always has a stern face, and Choonsuk keeps taking her hand to caress it and make her less tense. I think she is still not accepting Choonsuk is going to marry me, even if it is with me”, he laughs. “But the ceremony is already prepared. It will be quick. Have you ever seen a wedding? Well, here ceremonies are always held on the solstices, and they have to happen during the day, because Shams has to be a witness. If it rains on the solstice, it is because either the union was not blessed, or the couple still needs to mature. The way the weather is going, we are hopeful that we will have our blessing. I hope he does not suspect that our union is just a facade!” He laughs. “I will be dressed in gold, and she will be dressed in the colors of the Flame Tribe. There are priests from her tribe here too, but what matters is the faith of the kingdom, since in a wedding like this I am more important because I am a man. Her father, I do not know if she or Hyunja or Minji told you, is in fact a despicable man, more so than my father. He is a bit crazy, too. It is scary, because he says worse things than I do. I think when you are there at the ceremony you will agree with me. I tried to ask Hoseok, your friend, but he did not answer me. I think my mother does not want him to be interacting with other people when she is around. Well, he also gave me a really bad look. I wonder if he is upset or something?”

Hyungwon answers mentally each and every sentence, but has no way to respond neither looks up when Minhyuk pauses, hoping he will speak.

“I am talking to you”, he interrupts himself, pouting. It feels like the last time they saw each other was years ago, but Hyungwon has the impression Minhyuk will always be like this, even when he’s seventy. “Why do you not answer me?”

Hyungwon observes Khalil a few meters ahead, sniffing the sun-baked, cold grassy ground for squirrels, or something interesting enough to entertain him. He always stops and looks back, though, as if to make sure the two men are still behind.

Hyungwon blinks, closing his eyes for more than a millisecond, jaw set tight.

“Hyungwon,” Minhyuk calls. It’s a bit exasperated, but also a plea, as if trying one more time before losing his patience.

The slave turns to him and gestures to his throat, a gesture as if his neck was being cut.

Minhyuk frowns, stopping on his tracks. “What is this?” I can’t speak, Hyungwon mouths only, and points to his lips. “What?” There’s no other way to explain it; Hyungwon repeats the gestures, but Minhyuk obviously doesn’t understand. “You do not want to talk to me anymore, is that it?”

Hyungwon scoffs, but no sound comes out. It’s absurd he has to hear this as if he was the one who took everything from someone when they had almost nothing left, as if he stole someone’s heart and condemned them to death even though he saved him. The charitable gesture did nothing; it only postponed the inevitable.

“This is so childish”, Minhyuk says, crossing his arms. Hyungwon turns at him with a look of disbelief. “It is! Now you are going to give me the silent treatment? I am trying to remedy the situation!”

Hyungwon stops too. Can barely believe what he’s hearing, trying to convey as much anger as possible in his facial expression.

“Do not look at me like that! You know I am right!”

You aren’t, Hyungwon wants to tell him. You’re the most arrogant, unhappy and childish person I have ever had the displeasure of meeting and yet I fell in love with you, and that is why I can’t talk anymore!

“Look”, Minhyuk sighs, one hand on his waist. Something changes in his expression suddenly, but Hyungwon, overcome with anger, doesn’t even notice the blush on the prince’s cheeks. “I understand that you were jealous of the attention I gave Changkyun, but know that it doesn't mean anyt—”

Instead Hyungwon just starts walking faster, as fast as his frail legs can take him, until he’s almost running and Khalil is following him, Minhyuk not believing what is seeing until Hyungwon stumbles and falls, right on his knee that now has flowers blossoming.

It hurts, as if they were part of him, as if they were also alive. He tries to scream but there’s nothing to.

“Hyungwon!” Minhyuk runs towards him, throwing himself on the ground by his side. It dirties his white robes, but not it’s not like the first time they met, when he sat over Khalil’s back to keep his clothes pristine clean. “Oh, fuck, are you alright? Why did you start—”

Hyungwon looks at him.

Minhyuk stops. Freezes, completely, slowly becoming terrified. It’s a facial expression the slave never saw the prince show before, and it worries and scares him because why is Minhyuk looking at him like this?

The prince reaches a hand and wipes the blood out of Hyungwon’s mouth and nose. It’s slimy, shiny, and thick, kind of disgusting actually, because it means he must be bleeding a lot.

Could it be a hemorrhage?, he wonders, not as surprised but starting to get lightheaded at the sight of his own mortality. His heart is still beating irregularly, but his hands are cold and he suddenly feels very tired, like could sleep here and now, immediately.

It must be a hemorrhage. Mohsin told him it could happen.

Khalil gets closer, sniffling their faces and hands, and when his nose touches Hyungwon’s blood he steps back, starting to bark loudly, almost too much. Hyungwon grimaces, the sound resounding like drums inside his skull, crushing the brain inside, and the arm that supports him while sitting gives way, making him fall.

“Hyungwon!” Minhyuk shouts, desperate. He holds him by the shoulders, turns him upwards but it’s not the wisest thing to do when someone’s bleeding from their mouth; Hyungwon coughs, gargles blood that comes out in crimson bubbles. “Oh, shit—” he rolls Hyungwon to the side again, watching in despair as he begins to cough, his eyes sunken, his face pale, his body shaking. “Hyungwon, please do not die, Hyungwon—My god, I do not know what to do, I do not know—”

Khalil continues to bark, but Hyungwon can no longer hear clearly. What he hears clearly is the thumping rhythm of blood pressure in his ears, his eyes blurring with tears, the terrible pain spreading through every inch of his body. It’s an old friend, it’s tiring because it’s always there, but now it comes from places where he didn't feel so much pain before: ribs, middle of his chest, as if they were piercing the outside with a spear of fire, and Minhyuk didn’t even mention Changkyun, what could have happened?

Something bigger than just blood slides across his lips and he sees, with little definition but judging by Minhyuk’s astonishment, that it’s more than just a flower. A bouquet, quite possibly; but he can’t identify the flowers because they’re bathed in fresh blood, and the stems are still inside Hyungwon’s mouth. If he pulls them, it’ll be like turning himself inside out.

I think it’s finally it, he thinks, and quite relieved. It may traumatize Minhyuk for the rest of his life, but Hyungwon won’t be here to worry about it anymore – life is cared for by those who aren’t dead.

🌠

A noise catches his attention, then; walking further into the trees, a sharp turn to the right, he follows what is obviously water until he comes across a small lake and a plunge, the sound louder but peaceful, the sun warming his skin even though Hyungwon is sure the water is cold.

There is a person crouched at the edge, washing their long hair.

Apparently it’s a man, because he’s bare-chested, wearing only light-colored pants, and Hyungwon’s sixth sense and legs take him closer because it seems that here, finally, is the final place he's supposed to arrive; the anxiety disappears and he feels somehow relieved, his shoulders lighter, a smile spreading across his face without facing any hesitation or pain. He even takes a deeper breath, his lungs expanding healthily—

🌠

Hyungwon wakes up with a gasp like one would when reaching the surface of a river after nearly drowning. He closes his eyes, coughs, coughs, and coughs some more, and it feels like his insides will jump out of his body, but strangely, when lies down, there is no more excruciating pain, and no petals or flowers fall from his mouth when he tries to catch more air.

His lungs work.

His lungs work?!

There is no more pain, but his head throbs, but it is not as if it is going to explode. It is not like before.

He groans, trying to sit down, but a hand gently pushes him back. Mohsin appears slowly in his field of vision, smiling under his thick beard.

“Are you awake?” He shows his index finger, and moves it slowly as asks, “Follow my finger, please.”

Hyungwon does so, confused, with some difficulty. He notices the healer’s wrists are bandaged, but there is blood tingling the white tissue like the cuts didn’t close yet.

Is this because of me?, he wants to ask, and when opens his mouth to do so, he coughs a bit more, nothing barely coming out but a raspy sound.

“Easy”, Mohsin advices. “It will take some time for you to fully recover, but you will be able to speak again soon.”

Hyungwon frowns, confused. What do you mean? Mohsin himself told him not long ago that he would never be able to speak again, that the flowers would have destroyed his throat. How—

God, the flowers. Where are they? Why isn’t he coughing them up? What happened to the curse? Where was he, and why is he here? The last thing he remembers is Minhyuk, Khalil and feeling so angry he could barely stand, and—

Where is Minhyuk?

Trying to get up for a second time, Mohsin sighs and calls for someone. Hyungwon receives help from a boy he doesn’t know, but who he assumes is related to the healer because they have the same eyes, the same dark skin, the same nose.

The boy smiles, and his wrists are also bandaged, but they don't bleed like the healer's.

“My son”, Mohsin explains when Hyungwon smiles weakly at the boy and then at him, confused but already thankful. “Your case was peculiar. I needed help.”

Trying to be clear, testing limits, Hyungwon can only produce a very weak hoarse whisper, “For what?”

It’s like a miracle to be able to speak again.

The healer smiles. “To help take the curse from you.”

Hyungwon freezes, as if he hadn't heard correctly at the same time that he heard, yes, perfectly. “How?” He whispers, his throat hurting from the pronunciation of the words in the dialect of the gold.

“Wait”, Mohsin tells him, placing a hand on his shoulder, and asking his son to leave, call Hoseok here and tell Minhyuk.

“Minhyuk?” Hyungwon’s eyes widen, his heart beating fast and breathing deeply – how weird, how bizarre, how come he couldn’t do this for over a year and it didn’t bother him that much? It doesn’t even seem real, the pain, now that he doesn’t feel it anymore. “What happened?”

“He brought you here, in tears,” Mohsin explains. “Desperate. I have never seen him like this. I did not even think it was possible.” He laughs, but when he sees Hyungwon’s desperate face, he puts his hand on his shoulder again, trying to comfort him. “He asked for everything that was sacred for me to heal you. And I said I could not, because you would only be healed by one specific thing that I could not give you.”

Hyungwon blinks several times, feeling the burn of tears in his eyes. What does this mean, he thinks, Why am I no longer in pain, why are there no more flowers in me?

Mohsin smiles. “I will make you some tea. You need to drink warm things to clear your throat and chest.”

A few minutes later, when Hyungwon is halfway through his tea but still shaking with anxiety, low blood pressure and nerves, Minhyuk enters the tent, panting, his face red as if he had run all the way there. Mohsin’s own son looks the same, hunched forward and resting his hands on his knees, out of breath.

The healer offers him tea. “You look tired, my prince”, he teases.

Instead of frowning, Minhyuk chuckles. His eyes are in Hyungwon, like he couldn’t keep them away. “Do not bother me,” he playfully says back, raising his hand and pushing the cup aside, smiling.

It’s instantaneous, instinctive: Minhyuk’s presence has become synonymous with suffering, so when Hyungwon looks at him, he prepares himself to feel short of breath, to feel the flowers walking up his body to be released, spat at his feet—

But nothing happens. In fact, the pain has disappeared.

“You are alive," Minhyuk whispers, incredulous, his eyes wide and also frozen, as if afraid to get closer. It’s too intense, it’s a look he never directed at Hyungwon, and it embarrasses him terribly to the point where he looks away to the ground, somewhat astonished he’s not feeling anything anymore but happiness, pure and genuine.

Mohsin laughs, opening his arm for his son to join him. “Let us leave you two alone for a moment. Come on, khouya.”

“Wait”, Minhyuk looks over his shoulder. “Can I take him back to the palace?”

“Not yet”, the healer says. “Let him spend at least one more night, while he is conscious, here. You will have all the time in the world after that, Your Highness.”

Minhyuk rolls his eyes, but knows not even he, the prince, can contradict Mohsin.

When it’s just the two of them alone, Hyungwon shrinks back as if in danger, still afraid the pain will return and also apprehensive to be in front of the prince. He remembers, of course, the blood and the screams, the absurds he was told, how Minhyuk took everything from him just days before he was to get married, a marriage that Hyungwon helped him achieve, but he no longer feels anger or resentment.

He only feels sad, the only permanent feeling that doesn’t seem to have left him.

It’s Minhyuk who breaks the silence. “Why did you not tell me?”

Hyungwon still can’t speak much, not even very loudly. “Obvious reasons.”

Minhyuk seems to understand, approaching slowly, as if in front of a scared animal. He crouches down in front of Hyungwon, looking up like a slave would at a prince, then places a hand on Hyungwon’s knee. He takes it off quickly when the slave flinches slightly; retracting seems offensive to the prince, but he slowly makes his face forcing a neutral expression.

“Do you remember what happened?”

He’s gentle. His voice is so suave, like never before. His eyes also glint like in front of something so precious, something worthy of admiration.

Hyungwon shakes his head, feeling uneasy. “Until I passed out, yes.”

Minhyuk nods slowly, eyes never wavering. “I… I panicked. I never imagined you would get this bad. I thought you would die in my arms. I sent Khalil after Hoseok and somehow, I brought you to Mohsin. I almost died too."

Hyungwon’s heart skips a beat, turning back to Minhyuk. “W-what do you mean?”

“I picked you up. I picked you up, like this—” Minhyuk gestures, bridal carry. “—And carried you here. I do not know where I got the strength, but my arms still hurt from the effort”, he laughs weakly, but when Hyungwon doesn’t even smile, perplexed, Minhyuk sighs, lowering his head. “Oh, Hyungwon. Forgive me.”

Hyungwon holds the tea tightly between his palms, so much so that it burns his skin. The pain is an old ally in situations like this, like a certain before the uncertain, so it’s weird and a little nerve-racking when nothing comes to save him. It became almost an addiction – just like the man in front of him.

Isn’t this how you define addiction? Something you’re so compulsively committed to that its cessation causes severe trauma?

“Forgive… for what?”

“For making you suffer so much. I…” Minhyuk lifts his head up, exposing his neck, and Hyungwon’s eyes look at it, his jaw tensing, again holding the tea cup tightly. “I was the most complete and damned and despicable fool. I did not know that the curse of the flowers was for unrequited love.”

Hyungwon takes a sip, feeling himself burning alive. He wanted more distance between them, at the same time that he doesn’t; never wanted it, actually. It’s just that Minhyuk is so imposing in his golden aura that, weakened and more than traumatized, that Hyungwon feels ashamed to be seen like this, with so much pity. Minhyuk is not someone who feels pity – Hyungwon thought. Because the Minhyuk he swore he knew wouldn’t carry a dying slave in his arms to the healer either.

“You love me, do you not?” The prince asks, not beating around the bush, without hesitation.

Hyungwon averts his eyes to the colorful flasks on the other side of the tent, the mess of bloodstained cloths on the ground and the tools dipped in boiling water.

I almost died for you.

There is no way to hide it, even if he wants to, but Hyungwon still tries to avoid the answer. “How did you find out about the curse?”

“Hoseok”, Minhyuk says, smiling like understanding what Hyungwon is doing. The other slave kept his promise despite the desperate pleas, then. “Tell me, Hyungwon. You… you hid so much from me. You hurt me too. I did not know living was literally a sacrifice made in my name. I did not know I was the reason behind your torment.”

Hyungwon nods, swallowing around a lump. His eyes are still moist, but he feels so, so glad of not feeling pain anymore, of being able to speak and breathe normally.

But—

How?

“Why don’t I feel pain anymore?” He asks Minhyuk, as if he would know the answer. Maybe he does. “Did Mohsin tell you what he did? There’s no cure.”

“Of course there is”, Minhyuk responds.

“No”, Hyungwon shakes his head. He’s tired, still, and it feels like a ton over his shoulders. “There’s only one possibility, but there’s no way—”

“You know, Hyungwon, what a slave once told me?” Minhyuk interrupts him again, daring to place a hand on his kneecap once more. Hyungwon falls silent, more out of habit of not being able to physically speak than anything. “It was a slave I was sleeping with, of course, but he is dead. He competed in the Slaughter. He told me that we accept the love we think we should. That a person who has not been loved properly will hardly love properly back.”

Hyungwon stares at Minhyuk. There’s white paint on his face, sure, but it’s not enough to hide the dark circles under his eyes, the way his cheeks are thinner, the bones in his face more visible. It’s almost as if he’s lost weight too, a little sick and haggard. He hadn’t realized it before.

“I was not loved properly. Ever. So I did not know what it was. I still do not”, Minhyuk sighs shakily. “I did not know what this desperation was, this desire, this wanting to care that I felt when I saw you wasting away day after day. I thought it was just worry about no longer having such a trustworthy slave by my side, but it was more than that.” He reaches for Hyungwon’s cheek, cupping it like did once before. Hyungwon can barely breath, but apparently not because of the flowers anymore. “You are much more than a slave.”

It’s a bit ridiculous and cliché what he says, but Hyungwon recognizes that, coming from Minhyuk, it’s even more than expected. It’s truly impressive, but he still doesn’t understand what is going on and how he is still alive, when the last memory he has is suffocating in his own blood and flowers.

“Mohsin said that only love could heal you. And I did not understand. Love for what, love for what? What? I screamed, I howled”, Minhyuk laughs humorlessly; it doesn’t reach his eyes, and he fists the fabric of Hyungwon’s tunic almost instinctively. It’s covered in blood, ruined, and Hyungwon feels disgusting, but as always, Minhyuk isn’t a man who feels disgust for what the human body is capable of. “It felt like I was feeling your pain. And when Mohsin said that only the person you loved could heal you by loving you back, I broke down. Never…” Minhyuk looks away, and Hyungwon can’t believe it when he recognizes the shame in his expression. “I have killed so many, seen so many die in front of me. But the mere idea of ​​you dying because you were not loved, because this was your curse, was too much. Because I love you. And I screamed it. And I did not think about the weight of the words until you vomited a bunch of flowers and finally stopped suffering.”

Hyungwon stares at him, speechless, almost fainting again. He feels like his heart will now grow wings and fly, close to the sun until it burns out and dies for good.

“I did not know it was love. I have never felt this way before, I have never loved, or at least I did not think I had. I never thought I was worthy of any of it. But you…” Minhyuk smiles, so genuine, so gummy and bright. He even seems younger. “You believed I did. You love me so much that you were willing to die for it. And I can never love you that way, I guess, but I think I love you enough to never want to see you suffer again.”

Hyungwon doesn’t know exactly how to react.

He feels the tears running down his eyes, cheeks, face, neck. Who knows where they end up. He wonders if it's all just a dream, a delirium before death, the light at the end of the tunnel. If his mind decided to play a trick on him before his final breath—

“I dreamed of you”, Hyungwon sighs.

Minhyuk smiles weakly. He cries too, the tears melting his makeup and making him look like a court jester.

“And what happened in your dream?”

Hyungwon chuckles hoarsely and looks away. His cheeks flush even more. “You were like me. Normal. And you promised me eternity.”

Minhyuk nods, and now reaches for one of Hyungwon’s hands, closing around a bony wrist.

“I cannot promise you normality, but I can promise you myself.”

Hyungwon scoffs. Doesn’t sound perfect, but much better than before. “Are you sick?”

Minhyuk laughs, shaking his head. “No. How did my words turn against me so quickly?”

“I don’t know, but I can’t believe it. Do you love me, then?” Hyungwon tries, the words strange as if he learned the dialects of alchemy when he was young. “Are you capable of loving someone besides yourself?”

“I do not know”, Minhyuk says genuinely. “But I want to try.”

“And Changkyun?” Hyungwon wonders, only realizing he said it out loud when Minhyuk snorts. “Oh, and your wedding? How long have I been asleep—”

”I’m already married”, Minhyuk says. He raises his left hand and shows the gold ring on his fourth finger. “A week has passed. Everyone is gone. Choonsuk and Hyunja stayed, of course, and Minji too; but only until summer.”

Hyungwon is ecstatic. “What do you mean? A week? And I—”

“I almost postponed the ceremony, because I was afraid you would die and I would be far away. I spent all the time I could here.”

Hyungwon smiles, but quickly hides it. Do not get too carried away. “You know I can’t believe a single word you say.”

Minhyuk rolls his eyes, He balances himself better with both hands on Hyungwon’s knees. These mere touches mean so much. Hyungwon never thought that Minhyuk would touch him like this, like a friend, a lover.

(And he’s not even thinking about the many ways to effectively touch a lover.)

“Believe in your life, then. Why else would you be alive, if the only medicine that could cure you is my love?”

Touché.

“It seems so random to me… If you loved me, why were you with all those men?” Hyungwon asks, deeply embarrassed. He wants to hide himself behind his knees, but can’t move, overwhelmed by Minhyuk’s touch. “And Changkyun? You said Changkyun isn’t your type. Why did you spend so much time with him, then?”

Minhyuk shrugs. “And I have met a lot of men, but after you and understanding what this all means, the others are the others. Besides, Changkyun is not my type. We might have had sexual chemistry, but he lacked… Hm, something.”

Hyungwon takes a deep breath. He can do this now; it feels surreal. The mere phrase I love him was able to give him everything back. Hoseok was right, after all – but would Minhyuk have acknowledged such affection if he hadn’t been confronted with death the way he was?

“Look at me”, Hyungwon asks. He puts his tea down, hand shaking. He needs to eat. “And see if I am.”

Minhyuk squeezes his cheek, affectionately. He has been so many times in the last few months, but Hyungwon wanted to distance himself, afraid of what would happen.

“You may not be like a bed, you may not be strong enough to protect me like I always wanted, but you love me like no one else has ever loved me. That is enough to make you different from everyone else.”

“Stop bragging about my feelings”, Hyungwon says, and he can’t help but smile, warmth again flooding him like a river. “It seems like you’re happy to be loved, just. Not that—” it sounds like a lie, it sounds like imagination, “—that you love me. I can’t understand.”

“Of course I am happy”, Minhyuk says. “But if you still do not believe what I say, then you will believe this—”

He pulls down the sleeve of his robe and shows a bandaged wrist, similar to Mohsin’s and his son’s.

Hyungwon widens his eyes. “Oh—W-what is this?”

Minhyuk lets him examine the bandage, turning his arm around. “When Mohsin told me he would not know if you could resist since your case was too advanced, I was afraid you would die. Then I thought that if I died too, I would not miss you because I would be reunited with you in the world of souls.”

Hyungwon freezes, only his eyes moving up.

“You… you didn’t.”

“I did.” Minhyuk undoes the knot of the bandage and shows a deep, healing cut. “I was so desperate”, he chuckles humorlessly. “You do not understand. I was going to kill myself if I could not be without you. At the time, overcome by so much despair, it seemed like the only possible option.”

A fat tear falls onto Hyungwon’s lap. “You’re lying”, he whispers, but knows Minhyuk is not.

The prince shakes his head. “I thought it would be polite, a last act like that. A moment of clarity of mind, even if suicidal”, Minhyuk’s thumb caresses Hyungwon’s cheek, and in between crying, the slave chuckles, nervous and skeptical, but guessing what will come next. “Not to live, because I was the one who caused your death. My own sacrifice in your name.”

🌠

Ten years later

Hyungwon and Minhyuk sit on a bench under a tree. It’s hot, not like in the Eastern Gold Alchemy Kingdom, but instead much more pleasant, with a soft breeze blowing every now and then. Minhyuk is wearing a heavier fabric tunic over his usual white tunic, his cheeks slightly flushed, complaining about the cold but Hyungwon is feeling great, not even caring about the shiver on the back of his neck in the wind as he hasn't felt it in a long time, the humid air of the north doing wonders for his health.

Further along, crouched on the pond’s bank, are Kihyun, his children and Jongsu, looking for something among the tall vegetation. Kihyun’s wife is at home, as are Choonsuk and Hyunja, preparing dinner.

“Cold?” Hyungwon asks when Minhyuk leans closer, rests his head on his shoulder and brings both his legs up, over Hyungwon’s thighs.

“Yes”, Minhyuk nods, his cold nose against the pulse point. “It’s colder near the water.”

Hyungwon doesn’t respond, putting an arm around the king’s shoulders. They observe the children’s shenanigans and Kihyun’s impressive patience, how he handles five children without apparent effort, until Jongsu comes running towards them holding several large blue flowers, almost his size.

“Do not run”, Hyungwon tells him, and the boy dramatically stops to walk slower, making Minhyuk laugh. When he reaches them, Hyungwon rolls his eyes, opening one hand to receive the blue flags. “Very funny. What are these?”

“Iris versicolor. Uncle Kihyun said they help strengthen the pond borders”, Jongsu smiles. He’s missing two teeth from the bottom row. “Hyungwon, you do not want to come see the flowers with us? We are looking for frogs, too. Maybe—uh—Hyungwon, how do we call the frogs’ babies?”

“Tadpoles.”

“Thanks! Maybe tadpoles.”

“Very well”, Hyungwon leans down a bit, pushing the boy’s dark fringe from his eyes. “I will not, sorry. Your father is cold. I will be with him for now.”

“Daddy is always cold”, Jongsu responds with a pout. “I want to play with you.”

“It’s because I’m not used to this temperature”, Minhyuk smiles, receiving a flower too. “Sorry. You seem to have adapted well, though.”

“Yes! I even learned to speak—Uh, how is it called, Hyungwon? The language you speak here.”

“Geboorteland.”

“Right!” Jongsu nods, his hair messy again. “Ah, I have been practicing something. Can I show you?”

Hyungwon nods. The question was for him. Jongsu comes close, places one of his hands on Minhyuk’s leg and asks him to come closer with a gesture. The king does so, bending down too, and the boy takes a strand of his hair, closing his eyes for a few seconds and wrinkling his forehead and small nose. His round cheeks are red when he manages to make a pretty little yellow flower.

Minhyuk opens his mouth in astonishment, immediately looking at Hyungwon. The slave squeezes his kneecap lightly, as a warning, and smiles openly, sincerely proud.

“How beautiful! It looks great. What is this one called, do you know?”

“Buttercup. Ranunculus bulbosus.”

“Kihyun is teaching you the complicated names too?”

“Yes”, Jongsu nods, handing the flower to Minhyuk. “It is for you, daddy.”

Minhyuk takes a while to react, but he accepts the flower and puts it behind his ear, smiling a little. They watch the boy run to the edge of the lake again, exchanging a smile with Kihyun before crouching down next to his eldest daughter again, one of the other children lifting a frog by its leg in celebration for having found a big one.

When he’s sure the boy is out of their reach, Minhyuk asks, irritated, “Did you teach him flower alchemy?!”

Hyungwon presses his lips together, turns to Minhyuk with the most innocent face he can muster, but it’s in vain – receives a strong slap on his arm, one that stings, but knows he deserves such.

“In my defense, he asked me to. Pleaded. He has this expression—You know which he pouts and puts his hands together. It is ridiculous, and I know you taught it because you do the same thing to me. But he sees me doing my alchemy every day and wanted to learn too. Was I supposed to say no?”

“Yes! You were!” Minhyuk exclaims, but careful not to drag attention. “And even though it’s the same thing I do, he’s undeniably similar to you. You’re lucky I can’t kill you”, he mutters under his breath in a playful tone, but what receives is a snort, Hyungwon side-looking at him.

“You cannot?”

The king feels regret instantly, eating away at his bones like oxidized metal. He slaps Hyungwon’s arm again, but pulls him by the jaw to plant a kiss on his lips. They still taste like the pears they ate earlier, panting as soon as Hyungwon grabs him delicately by the neck, his hand squeezing Minhyuk’s windpipe for a second.

“’m sorry”, he whispers, equally aroused and sad at the same time.

Hyungwon smiles. “It is fine. I know you were joking, but Jongsu needs to learn some alchemy. He will not have the gold.”

Minhyuk looks away for a second, frowning but his face flushing more, “But not yours! Yours is horrible and is lethal!”

“Every alchemy is lethal. If he chose the fire one we would have to bet where the burn would be.”

“But theoretically he can be a flame alchemist. He has half the chance!”

Hyungwon smiles, looking at the lake, the children and Kihyun again. He has such short hair now. It used to be longer before, unlike Hyungwon, whose strands are braided and reach his waist now, similar to the hair Minhyuk had years ago. It’s the only thing he maintains from the Eastern style; hasn’t painted himself since they arrived in the north. It’s been really good to see him like this, raw, as came to the world (even if not literally, even if only at night when so), see the morning sun hitting his face without any white or the red of his lips without paint, just with fruits dyeing them. Hyungwon feels lucky, not only for that, but also because he is alive, and has the opportunity to witness such a moment even though the king beside him is extremely angry (and rightly so).

“I remember one time you told me that you were going to wipe out the Eastern Gold Alchemy Kingdom, and that I was going to have to run away with you.” Hyungwon slowly passes his hand over Minhyuk’s thigh, caressing it. “This seem like a good place to settle down after our escape, you do not think?”

The king laughs, scandalized and amused, kissing Hyungwon’s cheek, wanting to wipe the smile out of Hyungwon’s face as soon as possible, but knowing he’ll have to wait until the sun sets, when the women, Kihyun and the children are busy with dinner and they are finally left alone for a moment.

“You’re crazy. Terribly so.”

“Look who says it.”

“If not more, than just as much as me. Only being crazy one would do what you do to this day. But I confess that I never want to go back.”

“I consider myself a very rational person, thank you”, Hyungwon tells him. “And me much less. Also, what I do is nothing that would be a big favor. I always sacrifice myself for you; but I recognize that Jongsu is the best favor I have done.”

Minhyuk kisses him again, but shorter. “But it worries me, you know. The fact that he can never be a gold alchemist. His name was given because of ancestry and luxury in mind and he’ll either be a fire alchemist, or…”

“Stop despising my alchemy”, Hyungwon pretends to be bothered. “You love when I give you flowers every day.”

“Of course I do, but I’m afraid of your curse,” Minhyuk confesses, and this is where he’s absolutely right. “Can he already be considered a flower alchemist?”

“Not yet,” Hyungwon shakes his head. “He only becomes a real alchemist when commits, and he has not taken any oath yet. Until then, he has plenty of time to choose.”

“And will he be able to choose? Will you want to be a fire alchemist? If he chooses the flowers, we won’t be able to explain it. And not that if he takes after Hyunja it will be any worse – the kingdom is of Gold! How come the future king won’t be a gold alchemist?”

Hyungwon kisses the side of Minhyuk’s head, truly not bothered. “Hm. You should have thought about this before. Maybe your late father.”

“You should have thought”, Minhyuk pouts. “I didn’t think straight when made the decision, much less Choonsuk and Hyunja. In fact, we are all to blame for this.”

“The only thing I think of—”, Hyungwon whispers, moving closer again until his lips brush Minhyuk’s lobe, adorned with the finest jewels, his hand on the king’s thigh moving up and inside, “—is that the more I want a kiss from you, the more I see enjoyment in living.”

Minhyuk laughs, putting small distance between them to look into Hyungwon’s eyes. They’re dark as they always have been, but it’s unmistakable how he seems passionate; even though in the beginning Hyungwon didn’t look the least what Minhyuk liked in a man physically, he turned out to be what he needed most, the only thing that made the king truly love him even if he didn’t know what that feeling was until the last moment.

He raises his head, his neck extended to receive kisses, a smile slowly spreading across his face and his mouth opening in a low moan as Hyungwon sucks on the meat where his neck meets his shoulder, making new love-bites on top of old ones—

Until their names are called and they separate in a shock, faces red, hearts almost jumping out of their mouths.

“Hyungwon! Daddy! Look! It’s two frogs!” Jongsu lifts them by their legs as well, laughing when a frog slips out of his hand and jumps onto his head, Kihyun’s second oldest rushing to help.

Minhyuk doesn’t answer, a little disgusted, but Hyungwon shouts a great job! that makes the boy radiant.

“Well, then it is your task to find him a slave who, like me, will do everything for him and be in charge of transforming the flowers or flames into gold”, he goes back to their reasoning.

The king snorts. “He’s barely out of diapers, doesn’t need a companion slave yet. He’s glued to you all the time anyway. Stole my slave like you steal my dogs.”

“Jealous?” Hyungwon teases, receiving a roll of eyes back. “But I will not be around forever, neither you. How old is he? Five?"

“Six and three months”, Minhyuk says immediately. He knows all the information by heart. “He’s your son, you should know this.”

“He is your son," Hyungwon points out, and they exchange a smile that only two people with twelve years of history together could.

🌠