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A warmth settles in Wonwoo’s chest as he stares at the ring; a dainty piece of silver snug on his first finger, embedded with a sapphire gem in the middle. It was a measly thing compared to the ornate sets of jewellery he owned, amongst the pearls and gold, emeralds and rubies. However, none could hold a candle to this. 

It had caught him off guard when it had been slipped onto his finger. He had been sitting by the stream, letting his thoughts get carried away along with the steady flow of water in front of his feet. Wonwoo hadn’t heard any approaching footsteps—admittedly, it was reckless of him to let his guard down like this, but he didn’t have the slightest of worries. 

He never had them in moments like this. 

Wonwoo had only turned his head when he felt a warm touch grazing across the back of his hand, a stark contrast to the cool metal being put around his finger. 

“I thought it’d suit you,” Mingyu grinned, bumping into Wonwoo’s shoulder as he sat next to him by the rocky creek. “So?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, hoping for a verdict. 

Wonwoo let out an amused puff of air, fanning out his hand and eyeing the ring. He looked up at Mingyu through his lashes. “All I asked for was jjinppang and you bought me a ring?”

“I bought your jjinppang too,” Mingyu handed him a warm bag, a charming smile on his face that made Wonwoo’s heart race a little. “My prince.”

“Stop it,” Wonwoo said, knocking his foot into Mingyu’s. “I told you to not call me that.”

Mingyu chuckled, unwrapping the paper bag, revealing the warm dough to Wonwoo. 

“Someone will hear you and recognise me,” Wonwoo scolded.

“There’s no one here, Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo watched, tight-lipped as Mingyu fell back on the grass, closing his eyes as the sun shone down on him mercilessly. He looked as though he didn’t have a care in the world. 

“Just you and me.”

Wonwoo liked the sound of that more than he could admit. 

As his royal duties became increasingly burdensome, Wonwoo found himself sneaking away from the castle, dressed in run-of-the-mill clothes and a cloak over his head. It felt deceitful, because it was—playing hide and seek like this, but it was the only way for him to get a moment of peace. A moment where he could act as an ordinary civilian, rather than a prince. 

With his identity hidden he would venture through the woodlands, stop by the markets, sit at the centre of town and watch the young children sing. 

He had never expected that he would find company during his getaways from the castle. But he had.

Wonwoo didn’t believe in fate, everything plays out accordingly—intentional, or not. But when he met Mingyu it felt a little bit like the stars had aligned just right for him that day. 

There was no more of his favourite jjinppang at the stall. He was walking away with a slump in his shoulders when an arm stopped him, a steaming bun being presented to him with a boyish smile.

He couldn’t shake off Mingyu after that, running into him time and time again, inevitably spending his hours away from responsibility with the younger man. It couldn’t be helped, his presence was almost addicting, a concoction of playful banters and saying just the right words. Truthfully, Wonwoo couldn’t get enough. 

It certainly didn’t help that he was easy on the eye too. Gorgeous golden skin dotted with moles, dark hair that fluttered in the breeze, ordinary brown eyes that were, in fact, not ordinary at all as Wonwoo found himself unable to tear his gaze away from them. If he did, it was only to let his eyes linger on the contours of Mingyu’s mouth, the mesmerising way the pink lips moved around his words. He possessed a staggering height too, a head taller than Wonwoo who did not fall short to anyone else he knew.

And his smile, it was breath-taking. When his lips would part, sharp canines bared—that was the prince’s personal favourite. It made Wonwoo’s heart skip a beat. He looked like a baby wolf, all bark and no bite. 

That was why he had let his guard fall a little. He was in no position to be trusting around strangers, he knew that, of course. But it was hard not to when Mingyu was quickly chipping away at the walls of his heart, sneaking in through the cracks and settling into a small corner of it. The man had not once done anything to make alarm bells go off in Wonwoo’s head. Why should he deprive himself of this little happiness he had found?

Wonwoo startles as a knock comes at his door, urgent and rushed. 

“Your Highness!” comes Seokmin’s voice from the other side of the door, a trusted assistant of the royal family. “Are you still awake?”

Wonwoo hurriedly takes the ring off his finger, slipping it into one of his drawers. He makes his way to the front of his room, undoing the chain on the door. “What is it?”

Seokmin looks breathless as he speaks. “You were right about their hide-out, we found them just as you had suspected,” he says, urging Wonwoo out of his room. “The entire group was captured and brought here. They are in the dungeon.”

Wonwoo is immediately on alert, following Seokmin through the palace hallways with long strides, heart smacking against his chest in anticipation. This was news he had been waiting to hear for months. 

A rebel group had birthed itself amongst their kingdom, a group of vigilantes going after influential members of their society. Politicians and court members, even royalty weren't spared. Wonwoo didn’t know what it was they were doing, but they were damn good at it. Their targets returned scarred—sometimes physically, mostly mentally. Not a single one returned to their duties after the group was done with them, voluntarily resigning from their positions or falling off the grid. 

It was causing unrest in the kingdom, anxiety growing amongst the townspeople as dark secrets were revealed, exposing things expertly hidden from public knowledge. It shook the community to its core and as prince, Wonwoo could not let it ruin his kingdom. He had a responsibility to uphold and it began with ensuring the peoples’ peace. No matter what it took. 

The iron gates to the dungeon rise upon Wonwoo’s descent, a guard nodding to him as he walks through the underground caverns with determination etched onto his features. 

“Your Highness,” another guard bows, directing to him a large chamber. “They are in here.”

Wonwoo approaches the gates with his head held high, squaring out his shoulders. The way he dressed himself with intricate, dark clothing exuded power and nobility, but he needed more than that. He needed to intimidate, to evoke fear. 

There is a group of people, four occupants at most scattered around the cell, faces hidden. But Wonwoo can see the defiance in their body language, solid postures and rigid stances. They had been caught, but hadn’t given up. It was to be expected. A group so small that could cause such damage, they wouldn’t break so easily. 

His eyes meet a man at the front of the cell, a hard gaze directed at him as he stands almost protectively in front of everyone else. Wonwoo knows a leader when he sees one. This one remains stubborn, lips clamped shut and arms crossed over his chest.

“You cannot ignore this any longer,” Wonwoo starts, inching closer to the cell. “I’m sure you know why I’m here,” His voice is cold and authoritative. “You’ve been stirring up the kingdom with your group’s activities, and I need to know why you have continually ignored our attempts to reach peace and proceeded with causing trouble.”

The man in the cell scoffs at Wonwoo’s words, tipping his nose up as if Wonwoo was cow dung at the soles of his shoes. “Trouble?” he replies, voice dripping with sarcasm. “It's a necessary upheaval. Someone needs to stand up to the corrupt officials who are ruining this kingdom.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow. “And you believe causing chaos and fear is the best way to go about it?” he asks, voice tinged with irritation. “There are proper channels in place to address corruption. You had no reason to resort to such drastic measures.”

“Proper channels?” the man repeats with disdain, taking a step closer to the boundary separating them. “What channels are you referring to? The same ones that allow these people to get away with their schemes? The same channels that fail common people time and time again?”

Wonwoo’s jaw hardens as a finger is pointed at him accusingly. 

“You’ve lived your whole life in these fancy walls, protected from the harsh realities of the real world,” the man spits. “You don’t get to tell us what’s dramatic when you’re not suffering under the heel of these hounds! We’re the only ones fighting while you sit on your thrones, acting righteous and ignoring real problems real people are having.”

It was always the same with people like this. This was not the first time Wonwoo’s royal upbringing was used against him.

“I may not have lived in the same condition as the common folk, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about their well-being,” he states, maintaining his composure. “The safety and happiness of my kingdom and its people are always my priority. However, anarchy and violence is not the way to bring about change. You are making things worse–”

The man in the cell suddenly snaps, lunging forward. His hand shoots out of the bars, grabbing Wonwoo’s collar. 

“Don’t spew bullshit in front of my face like that,” he growls. “We’re not causing chaos for the sake of it! We’re fighting a system that’s been rotten to its core for too long–”

“Seungcheol! Leave it!”

Wonwoo turns his head to the direction of the voice, a woman’s cry coming from the corner of the cell where she is huddled around a slumped man.

“It won’t stop bleeding!” the woman yells out, hands stained with blood. 

Seungcheol, as Wonwoo now knows him to be, grits his teeth, unclenching his fingers around Wonwoo’s collar. 

Wonwoo straightens himself, smoothing out his shirt as he watches the man find his way to the back of the cell, crouching in front of a sitting figure. He turns around, disappearing behind the corner. It was simple what they had to do if they did not cooperate. They would be kept here until they learnt their lesson. 

“Hey, Kim Mingyu. Why did you hide this cut?”

Wonwoo’s ears ring. 

“It’s not that bad, hyung,” a terrifyingly familiar voice grunts. “I-I’ll be fine.”

Wonwoo’s blood runs cold, a chilling feeling running up his spine. His world spins as he whirls on his feet, unsteady as he approaches the gate once again. ‘’What did you say?” he asks, biting his jaw. 

“Damn it, you should’ve told me about this,” Seungcheol curses, inspecting an arm.

“Whose name did you just call?” Wonwoo breathes out, a bitter taste coating his tongue. “Say it again right now!”

Seungcheol pointedly ignores him once more. 

The anger and anxiety within Wonwoo sky rockets even further as he sees a figure trying to shield himself, hiding behind huddled bodies and drawing his feet closer to himself. 

“You heathen, listen to me!” Wonwoo roars, unable to control himself. “Move away from him and let me see, or I will have your head on a spear before the sun can even rise in the morning!”

The threat has no effect on the person it’s directed to and it’s only when a palm is placed on Seungcheol’s shoulder does the man retreat with a scoff. 

Wonwoo feels his heart drop to his stomach when the face appears. He stumbles back pathetically, the weight of the realisation knocking the strength out of his knees. His tongue feels numb, mind racing and body going limp. And like Mingyu can see all the stages of horror being reflected on his face, he gets onto his knees, grunting as he staggers to the front. 

“Wonwoo–”

“How dare you address me by my name?!” Wonwoo’s voice booms, pushing past the lump in his throat.

Mingyu has the audacity to look taken aback, flinching at the tone and shrinking in on himself. “Your Highness, please…”

Wonwoo cannot even begin to describe the feeling burning at his core right now. Red, hot anger pumps through his veins, making his head grow hot. He’s flushed with heat all over, an acidic churn in his stomach at the undeniable, ugly truth being shoved in his face.

This was a betrayal he never saw coming. 

His heart twists in his chest as the memories he’s spent with Mingyu come flashing through his head one by one, as if taunting him, laughing in his face, that this is what he gets for being a fool. For being whisked away by a pretty face and even prettier words. He burns with shame. How could he have been so foolish?

It feels like a blow to his stomach when he comes to the bitter realisation that there had been nothing fateful about their meeting at all. Mingyu had probably been watching him for weeks, waiting for the right moment to strike, and like an idiot Wonwoo gave him more and more opportunities. He had even let Mingyu slide a ring on his finger and given him smiles he rarely shows anyone. 

Wonwoo feels sick.

“Please,” Mingyu’s voice pierces through his thoughts. “Let me explain–” He’s cut off by his own grunt as he clutches at his arm, eyes squeezing shut. 

The sight of Mingyu in pain sends Wonwoo’s heart hammering. 

“Oh, Mingyu!” the woman from earlier calls out, getting to her feet and winding her arms around the man. “Are you okay? Please sit.”

Something ugly flares up in Wonwoo’s chest, his eyes zeroing in on the way petite hands are wrapped around Mingyu’s arm, bodies pressed too close for a person who was injured. 

“Get separate cells for all of them,” Wonwoo commands “Now!” 

The guards rush at Wonwoo’s instructions, preparing a new cell for each occupant, puling them apart from each other and tugging them along with their chains until they’re all separated. 

Wonwoo bites the inside of his cheek, pushing away the sound of Mingyu’s pained grunt to the back of his mind. 

He stops at the entrance of the dungeon, beckoning the attention of a guard. “Send a nurse to the one in the last cell,” Wonwoo says, detached. “It would be unfortunate if he were to pass of blood loss.”

Wonwoo makes his ascent from the stone stairs, entering back onto the palace grounds. He walks through the winding halls, reciprocating each greeting that is delivered to him as he passes by the royal staff. His facade only cracks when he enters the safety of his chambers, shutting the door and putting the lock into place. 

The ache in heart suddenly grows to be overwhelming and tears gather at the back of his eyes, threatening to blur his vision. He looks around his room, desperately trying to find something to focus on, something that will ground him, but nothing works. He feels like he’s choking, throat tightening. With heavy, unsteady steps he approaches his dresser, roughly tugging at the drawer. 

His hands are careless, trembling as he frantically searches through it. The touch of the cool metal almost seems to burn when he picks it up in his hands. Before doubt can creep up on him, Wonwoo bursts his window open, throwing the ring from his room with as much force as he can. 

When it’s gone, he holds a hand to his mouth, refusing to let out whatever sound was threatening to spill from his lips. He collapses against the wall, chest heaving erratically. 

Stupid, stupid Mingyu. 

And stupid, stupid Wonwoo too. Because despite it all, worry gnaws away at Wonwoo, the sight of the deep wound on Mingyu’s arm leaving an even deeper imprint on his mind.

For all the energy Wonwoo spent trying to give himself some kind of retreat, it all goes down the drain the following five days as he barely leaves the castle. He had no reason to now that Mingyu was trapped inside the dungeon. But he didn’t go to see him either, he couldn’t stomach it. 

Wonwoo threw himself in his work, taking on loads heavier than ever before. He barely slept, or ate—nothing more than a few bites to appease the King and Queen during mealtimes. 

He didn’t want to think about anything in those five days, especially not about Mingyu. Because once these five days were over, there would be no avoiding him. His father had ordered him back down to the dungeon to sort out the captives. It was his responsibility after all, seeing as it was under his command they had been caught. 

Wonwoo walks through the underground tunnels, his feet clattering against the stone floors with every step to make his presence known. Stopping by each cell, it’s no surprise that prisoners don’t speak to the prince when he approaches, hardly sparing a glance at him, head tipped down as if their escape plan was written on the cobblestone. 

They would budge soon. Wonwoo was sure of it. They had to.

His steps halt as he finds himself before the cell at the end of the corridor. He had Mingyu purposely put the furthest away, hoping it would give the time he needed to come face to face with him again. 

But right now, Wonwoo was feeling more at unease than ever before, an anxious terror prickling under his skin, making him dread their meeting. He can’t predict how it will make him feel, whether it will make his blood boil like the first moment he realised Mingyu was a part of this rebellion, or whether it will make his chest throb the way it had behind closed doors. 

Maybe he should just go. Not see him at all. 

However, there were guards stationed at every corner, and even if their eyes weren’t on Wonwoo, they were certainly watching his every move. 

He couldn’t skip Mingyu; it would raise suspicion and that was something Wonwoo couldn’t afford, even more rumours in the kingdom. 

With that in mind, he steels himself, ready to see Mingyu. Ready as he’ll ever be. 

But as soon as Wonwoo approaches the gate, ready seems to be a far away word, one from a foreign language. Mingyu isn’t looking at him, probably hadn’t even realised he’s here with his head lowered and body slumped on the floor. He looks so small, his usual lively energy stripped away by the chains tied to his arms. Wonwoo doesn’t know what he hates more, the sight of Mingyu like this, or how it makes him feel. 

Wonwoo inhales, unsteady—not how he intended for it to come out. 

The sound has Mingyu snapping his head up, as if he can recognise Wonwoo from his breath alone. He pushes himself up on his hands and feet, uncaring of the way his restraints attempt to limit each of his movements. Wonwoo watches with gritted teeth as Mingyu fights the ball and chain at his ankles.

You fool. Wonwoo thinks as Mingyu drags himself and the weight. You will hurt yourself. 

“Won- Your Highness, please give me a chance to—“ Mingyu’s plea never fully gets out, words catching in his throat as his eyes meet Wonwoo’s. 

Wonwoo stands there, unmoving as Mingyu’s gaze runs the expanse of his entire body, from head to toe. His brain stops functioning when cold, clammy fingers wrap around his wrist. They are normally warm to the touch. 

“You look terrible, what have you done to yourself—Ah!” Mingyu hisses as a guard strikes him on his wrist, reprimanding him for touching Wonwoo. 

Heat flares through Wonwoo’s chest, his eyes set ablaze as he glares at the guard. “Who told you to interfere?” he seethes, fists clenched at his sides. 

The guard immediately recoils, bowing his head “Your Highness, he put his hands on you, I did not wish for a repeat of last time—“

“And so what if he did?” Wonwoo snaps, his frustration bubbling over. “You think I cannot defend myself from the likes of him? Do you see me as someone weak? Defenceless?” 

“No, Your Highness! Of course not.“

Wonwoo swallows away the dryness in his mouth, hoping it will dissipate his simmering anger too. “Hand me your keys,” is all Wonwoo says, tone untelling. 

The guard does so without question, unhooking the keys from his belt and depositing them into Wonwoo’s palm. He stares in bewilderment as the prince slots the key into the lock, unlocking the wrought iron gates. This time the guard doesn’t dare intervene. 

Mingyu is just as stunned as the bars slide open, nothing but air in between them now. 

Wonwoo looks up at him before he swiftly turns on his heels, feet clacking as he unlocks a wooden door. 

Mingyu doesn’t move an inch. 

“If you wish to speak to me, this is your one chance,” Wonwoo says coldly, not bothering to glance back at Mingyu. He then disappears into the interrogation room, hiding as he leans his back against the wall, like without the support his knees would give out. 

His hands grow clammy as he waits, picking at his peeling skin on his fingers, listening to the clattering of Mingyu’s chains get louder. Despite his restraints, Mingyu walks in with resolve, shutting the door with his back. 

Wonwoo’s head shoots up at the powerful thud that must have echoed throughout the entire dungeon. Who told Mingyu he could shut the door? He shouldn’t have done that. Because now it feels like it’s just them, and it is just them, and all Wonwoo can see is him. It’s suffocating. 

Mingyu’s eyebrows are knitted together as he holds Wonwoo’s gaze, taking urgent, yet cautious steps to him. “You look like you’re about to collapse,” he says, voice soft with concern. 

There’s a featherlight touch at his fingertips, Mingyu’s hand drifting down to his own. 

Wonwoo can’t find it in himself to pull away.

“Have you not been sleeping, Your Highness?”

Wonwoo jerks his hand away as if he’s been burnt, his royal title slapping him back to reality. How dare he ask him that? When it was all because of him that he was losing sleep. 

“You are in no position to show concern,” Wonwoo’s voice comes, biting and cold, “when your arm is in that state,” he adds with a pointed look to the limb, wrapped up in bandages.

“I…It’s not that bad,” Mingyu breathes out, eyes drifting from one of Wonwoo’s orbs to the other. “Thank you. For sending the nurse, I mean.” 

“Don’t. I didn’t do it for you.”

Like a wave of clarity washes over Mingyu, his expression morphs from one of concern, to regret as the meaning behind Wonwoo’s words become clear. Mingyu’s face contorts and once again he reaches out for Wonwoo’s hand only for the latter to back away. “I’m fine—“

“Well, I’m not!” Wonwoo bursts, raising his voice. “You have lied to me and made me your fool! Do you know how that makes me feel?!”

Mingyu looks taken aback, his defence on the tip of his tongue. “Your Highness, I never lied to you—“

“Don’t get technical with me,” Wonwoo’s glare is sharp and piercing. He’s never looked at Mingyu like this before. He’s never had a reason to. “It doesn’t change the fact that you deceived me! At the end of the day you had me in the palm of your hand and you tricked me!”

“You’re right,” Mingyu winces. “I’m so sorry, Your Highness.”

“Stop calling me that!” 

Wonwoo is on the brink of breaking down and Mingyu using his official title was not helping. It makes him feel like they were strangers in passing, two people that had no connection to each other. But Wonwoo did have a connection with Mingyu, or at least he thought he did. 

Suddenly, he feels nauseous. 

“What else have you been lying to me about?” his voice rips out. “That day in the forest, did that even mean anything to you? Or was that part of your scheme too?”

“What? No, Wonwoo, no—“

Wonwoo’s stomach twists into knots, ones that pull at the edges of his body and make his inner walls clamp up, making it difficult to breathe. 

That day in the forest they were sitting on a mattress of leaves, leaning against the stalk of a thick tree while sunlight filtered down on them. Flush from shoulder to thigh, the pair took turns feeding themselves ripe cherries that Mingyu had plucked earlier. They were sweet, plump, and Wonwoo couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way the red juices tinted Mingyu’s lips. A forbidden fruit.

Wonwoo had reached out into the basket, blindly patting around for another cherry when he realised it was empty. He turned to Mingyu, finding the latter plucking the last cherry from the stem with his teeth. 

“What?” He had garbled, the fruit lodged between his upper and lower teeth. 

“You had so much more than me and you didn’t even leave me the last one?”

Mingyu’s lips pouted around the cherry. “How is that my fault? You eat too slow,” He whined, looking away as Wonwoo’s eyes bore into his. “Well, it’s not like I can do anything about it now.”

There was always something that could be done. 

So Wonwoo leaned over and took a bite of the cherry straight from his mouth, their lips grazing. 

He pulled back, satisfied with another burst of flavour on his tongue as well as the starstruck expression on Mingyu’s face, lips parted with a cherry stuck between them, the pit sticking out from the inside. 

“It’s good,” Wonwoo said, leaning back on the tree as he swallowed down the fruit. 

The next thing he knew, there was a hand on his jaw, a pair of lips urgently meeting his as the saccharine juice spilled into his mouth. Mingyu only parted to spit out the seed, quickly attaching himself back to Wonwoo. By the time they were done, their lips were stained red and the prince’s neck was left with a sugary sheen of saliva. 

But the taste of the cherry was long gone, the sweetness replaced by something bitter, the pit lodged in his throat. 

“Was any of that real to you?! I was just a pawn in your game!” Wonwoo chokes out. “It was me you were going to go after next, wasn’t it?”

Mingyu looks panicked, urgently trying to talk, but when Wonwoo slumps, he does too, his outreached hand hovering mid-air. 

The fire inside Wonwoo dies and he’s left resigned, dark and ashen with the remnants of what Mingyu’s stolen from him. “I should have known,” he starts, face dropping. “You were too nice, too eager to listen, too amused in my presence. No one has ever been like that with me before,” Wonwoo admits quietly. “I should have known you were too good to be true.”

The same way the flame inside Wonwoo fizzles out, the one in Mingyu flickers to life. 

“No,” Mingyu says, tone firm yet earnest. “It was all true, Wonwoo. Every moment I spent with you, at the forest and everything else in between,” His voice takes on a hint of pleading as he responds. “My feelings for you have never been fake, or orchestrated, please…”

“Do you expect me to believe that? You wish for me to be your fool again?”

“No, I—“

Wonwoo chuckles, a wet, bitter sound. “You don’t have to worry. I’m afraid you have me wrapped around your finger.”

A flicker of pain flashes through Mingyu’s face, passing by his eyes as his entire body deflates. 

“And that’s the worst part. That after all this, I cannot even bring myself to hate you.”

Wonwoo lowers his head as he feels his throat tighten, hands curling into fists. 

“In fact, I hate myself for losing sleep over you, for agonising over that ghastly wound on your arm and replaying everything that you’ve ever said to me, wondering just how much of it was pretend.”

“None of it!” 

Mingyu cries out. 

“I-I’m sorry for being dishonest with you, truly. It ate me up every single day after we parted that there was something I was hiding from you,” he confesses. “You are not foolish, not the slightest. It’s me who is a coward, I was afraid of what you may think of me.”

I bet you’re not afraid now. Wonwoo thinks. Knowing I’m still pathetically in love with you. What kind of prince did that make Wonwoo? How would he run a kingdom if he was so helpless against his heart’s desires?

“But none of it was fake, Wonwoo,” Mingyu attempts to reassure him with a firm voice. “Not a single second of it. I swear on my life, all of those precious moments I shared with you, it was me opening up my heart to you,” he continues, voice coming down with a tremble. “Please…you have to believe me.”

Tenaciously, Mingyu takes a step forward, entering Wonwoo’s space now that the latter is backed against the wall. He brings chained hands up, cautious, tender fingers coming to hold Wonwoo’s face, tipping it up so their eyes can meet once again. 

“The way I looked at you, the way I touched you, the way I called your name,” Mingyu insists, an ember behind his eyes. “It was all real. Please believe me, Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo shakes his head, wanting to squeeze his eyes shut so he doesn’t have to stand another second looking at the pained expression on Mingyu’s face. It makes his heart twist and churn. 

It jumps to his throat when Mingyu suddenly leans in, hot and uneven breath fanning over his face, the tips of their noses touching. 

“I wouldn’t spend months pretending to fall in love with you when you make the real thing so easy.”

With that Mingyu closes the remaining distance between them, plastering his mouth over Wonwoo’s. 

Wonwoo shudders into the kiss, air filling up his lungs like this is the first time he’s been able to breathe in weeks. And Wonwoo inhales him, drinks him in as if every breath and gasp is all that he has longed for. It’s as though Mingyu breathes life into him, running through his veins and making his heart work overtime. 

The press of Mingyu’s lips is painfully tender, parting and returning to Wonwoo’s mouth for as long as he’s allowed. It aches Wonwoo to his core, how the younger man kisses him like he’s the last bit of water in the desert, holding back greed and savouring every last droplet. 

With a soft smack, Wonwoo parts from his mouth. Just barely, noses grazing, breaths mingling. 

“You are so cruel, Kim Mingyu,” he whispers between them. 

Then he pulls Mingyu in with a hand to his nape, crashing their lips together with urgency. 

Wonwoo works his mouth eagerly, caressing and licking over every inch of velvety skin. He doesn’t plan to stop, he’ll stay here until his lips become numb like his brain, quickly rewriting painful memories with new ones; of Mingyu’s lips, his touch, his gasps, burning the feeling of his mouth into his mind. 

All the inhibitions holding Mingyu back simply melt away as he kisses Wonwoo, desperate and hungry. He kisses him as if he’s trying to devour him whole, pressing against the people’s prince with a possessive need. 

Chained hands rattle as they surge forward to claim Wonwoo’s waist, anchoring them both in place.  

It spills over in that moment, the longing, the yearning, the heartache. It’s in every touch of their chasing lips, every swipe of their tongues and every exchange of breath. 

Wonwoo winds his arms around Mingyu’s neck, pulling them as close as they can be. He didn’t need any more space, he wanted none of it. He’d rather fuse them together, share his breaths with Mingyu, live inside of his mind and know just what it was he thought all this time. 

The closest he’ll get is pressing their chests flush together, the thudding of Mingyu’s heart against his ribs—an echo of the pounding in his own chest.

It’s almost pitiful how Mingyu dives his tongue into Wonwoo’s mouth, frantically licking over every nook and cranny, memorising the space by touch alone. As if this is the last time they would share a kiss. 

Wonwoo clutches him, angling his head and pressing into the younger man with a firm pressure. He would not let Mingyu go so easily. Not now.

Despite the burn in his lungs, he’s even reluctant to let Mingyu part from his lips. He relents, flattening his palm on Mingyu’s nape when there’s a heave against his mouth. 

They’re both panting and breathless, shoulders shaking ferociously. One would think the pair returned from battle, not from each other’s arms. 

Mingyu squeezes his thumbs into the divots of Wonwoo’s hip. “Wonwoo, we have never thought about going after you,” he says in between uneven breaths. “You are the one person in this kingdom that has ever been good.”

Wonwoo bites his lip, his hands curling up by his side. “Not good enough,” he mutters. “Otherwise you would never have had to resort to this.”

A reassuring caress is delivered to his hip. Wonwoo’s not sure what he did to deserve it. “You are trying. That’s more than I could ever ask for. You are the only one making a difference.”

“Well, I need to try harder.”

A sharp burst of determination cuts through his foggy mind, still reeling from the kiss. All the anger, the sadness, the betrayal have transformed into a steely resolve. A fierce sense of purpose takes root in his heart. 

“From now on, I will handle it. I’ll make sure those people are handed proper punishment once and for all.”

Mingyu stares at the prince, eyebrows scrunched in the middle of his forehead and thumbs pressing harder into a bony hip. 

“I will talk to Seungcheol. Then all of this will be taken care of,” Wonwoo states, a hardness in his tone. 

He looks down when he feels the touch of warm fingertips dancing over his closed palm, unfurling them effortlessly. 

Mingyu holds his fingers, swiping a thumb over the back of them. He smiles. “Is it bad that I’m disappointed to see you not wearing the ring? Even though I know you cannot wear it in front of everyone else.”

The ring. 

The ring he threw away in a flurry of emotions. 

“Was it expensive?” Wonwoo asks. 

With his thumb still tracing over Wonwoo’s knuckles, Mingyu shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Not really,” Mingyu repeats. “My father gave it to my mother when he asked her to marry him—not that I was asking you to marry me, of course! But it’s not that I don’t want to marry you either, I mean—it’s-“

Mingyu is rapidly turning into a red, flustered mess, stumbling over his words and flailing his hands about as best he can in chains. 

Wonwoo might even have found it endearing if it weren’t for the horrifying realisation that he’s thrown a piece of Mingyu’s family God knows where! 

Panic shoots up his middle and he manoeuvres out of Mingyu’s grip, mumbling a promise of returning later as he’s reaching for the locked door. 

“Wait.”

Cold chains brush over his neck as Mingyu grabs a hold of his chin, turning the prince towards him before leaving a searing kiss on his lips. 

Wonwoo’s heart hammers. “I-I’ll see you later.”

“Your Highness, with all due respect—what in heaven’s name are you doing?”

Wonwoo is well aware how jarring it must be to see the prince crawling around on his hands and knees in the royal garden. Which is why he intentionally came down at night when all the guards had been removed from their post. 

However he’s forgotten to account for the Palace Gardener who resides on the ground floor. 

“Are you looking for something?” Seungkwan asks, tipping his head in curiosity as Wonwoo drags his metal lantern to another patch of grass. 

Gods, it could be anywhere. It may have already sunken underneath the dirt. 

“If you tell me, I may be able to help you.”

Sighing exasperatedly, Wonwoo sits on his knees. “I’ve lost a ring. Have you seen it by any chance?”

“A ring?” Seungkwan raises an eyebrow. “How ever did you lose a ring from your possession? It is not like you to be careless of your things.”

Wonwoo bites his lip, shame and guilt twisting inside of him. “It must have slipped from my finger.”

“Really? I was sure I had seen you throw it out of your window.”

Wonwoo’s lips part. 

“Oh, well!” Seungkwan shrugs. “I must have been seeing things, being around pollen all day is getting to me.” 

“Seungkwan.”

“Yes?”

“Where is it?”

Seungkwan bats his eyelashes innocently. “Where is what, Your Highness?”

“I’m serious,” Wonwoo jumps to his feet, grabbing the man’s arm. “If you know where it is, you must give it to me.”

“Why? So you can throw it away again?”

Wonwoo grits his teeth, his frustration bubbling over. With a sharp inhale, he opens his mouth, eyes narrowed at the gardener. “Seungkwan, you are pushing my buttons, tell me where it is this instant.”

“Alright, alright, don’t get your panties in a twist Your Highness.”

Seungkwan frees his arm out of Wonwoo’s hold, walking towards the garden shed. Wonwoo follows closely, his body thrumming with anticipation. He desperately needs the ring to be here. 

“Goodness, you found it,” Wonwoo sighs as a heavy weight lifts off his shoulder at the sight of the silver ring sitting in his palm. 

He nearly slides it on his finger again, needing to feel the cool metal wrapped around his skin, but holds back at the unwavering gaze on him. Instead, he clutches it in his hand, the sapphire pressing into his palm. 

“If it’s so important to you, you shouldn’t have thrown it away like that.” 

Wonwoo snaps his head up at Seugkwan’s voice, the words slicing deep through a stinging wound. 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Wonwoo says coldly. 

“Maybe not, but if it’s enough for you to crawl through the gardens like a beggar, you might want to think about things twice before discarding them so recklessly.”

“I was hurt, Seungkwan! I wanted nothing to do with that ring or—“ 

Wonwoo clamps his mouth shut, seconds away from letting a secret spill out of his mouth. 

“Or the person who gave it to you?” Seungkwan finishes for him. 

It was still a mystery to Wonwoo. How Seungkwan could see behind his mask and unconceal his web of lies. 

Wonwoo nods.

Seungkwan bumps their shoulders together. “I think you might want something to do with them. Since you came back looking for the ring.”

A beat of silence passes. 

“What changed between then and now? For you to come running back.”

A lot. But at the same time, nothing at all. It’s not that it has suddenly dawned on Wonwoo that he’s in love with Mingyu—that he’s known for a while. He would have come searching for the ring eventually, whether they be in another couple of days or weeks. It couldn’t weigh on his conscience for much longer than that. 

But when Mingyu told him it was something that belonged to his mother, a family heirloom gifted to Wonwoo out of love . Wonwoo could not sleep until he found the ring again in one piece.

“Do you love them?” Seungkwan asks when Wonwoo is unable to respond.

“I’m not supposed to.”

“Oh to hell with what you’re supposed to! ” 

The sudden outburst startles Wonwoo, but when he turns to Seungkwan, the man looks even more determined than before. 

“You were absolutely depressing this past week,” he casually insults. “But before that, you were the most lively I had seen you in years. You were the best version of yourself you have ever been.”

Then he drops a bomb on Wonwoo. 

“I know you’ve been meeting someone outside of the palace.”

Wonwoo pales. 

“Oh, don’t look so shocked,” Seungkwan snorts. “I may be an expert on flowers and plants, but I could also tell that Cupid’s arrow struck you.” 

Seungkwan jabs a finger at the prince’s chest. 

“Right in the heart.”

Wonwoo is still very much horrified. 

Seungkwan wrinkles his nose. “Don’t worry. No one else will have figured it out,” He straightens his back, tipping his chin up smugly. “Few are as observant as Boo Seungkwan.”

That gets Wonwoo to crack a smile, hiding it with a bow of his head. 

Seungkwan grins. “There’s the smile that’s been missing all week, I thought you’d forgotten how to do it! Look at Prince Jeon Wonwoo’s handsome smile!”

Wonwoo laughs this time, pushing himself off the desk and finding the exit of the shed before he is subject to any more teasing. “I’m leaving.”

“Uh-huh, you better do things right this time.”

He will. From Mingyu, the kingdom and everything else in between. Wonwoo will make things right this time, no matter what it takes. 

“Thank you, Seungkwan.”

“Goodnight, Your Highness!”

Several days later, the prince has trapped himself inside of his study, nose buried in documents and papers strewn across his desk. His eyebrows are furrowed in deep concentration, the crease in between them threatening to make a premature wrinkle. 

Wonwoo’s attention is so narrowed in on the work in front of him, that he misses Seokmin slipping through the door. 

“Your Highness.”

The royal assistant is met with silence.

“Prince Wonwoo,” he tries again. “Wonwoo!” Seokmin calls out as a last resort, the prince snapping his head up at his name. 

He immediately sinks back into the chair. “What is it?” Wonwoo asks half-heartedly, his pen working across the page. 

“It’s your father.”

Wonwoo pauses. 

“His Majesty has requested your presence in the throne room.”

“Damn it,” Wonwoo mutters under his breath, pen dropping out of his fingers. He pushes himself out of his desk, heading for the door. “Why the throne room?” 

“You know why,” is all Seokmin responds with, a telling glint passing through his eyes. 

Of course. Wonwoo should have realised this earlier. 

It is not only his father requesting his presence. It is being demanded by someone other than him too. 

Standing in front of the grand doors of the throne room, Wonwoo prepares himself with a deep breath as the guards announce his arrival. 

He’s aware that his father has been growing impatient and the ministers were only putting more pressure on him to resolve the situation with the prisoners. 

With his head held high, Wonwoo crosses the threshold with a sense of resolve. He would not bend or bow no matter how much they pushed him. He has to defend his decision to hold the prisoners for a little longer and he steels himself for the interrogation. 

Wonwoo bows, to his father, the king, as well as the other guests that stand below the dais—ministers, just as Wonwoo had suspected. 

He can sense the edge in his father from the way their eyes meet, the gaze of the officials weighing even heavier on him as they mask their irritation with hardened expressions. 

"Wonwoo," the king says firmly, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "I need an update on the prisoners you've been holding. The ministers are growing restless and we are facing pressure from all sides. How much longer do you plan on keeping them without punishment?"

Wonwoo needs to be careful with his words. He can’t afford to give away the fact that he's secretly gathering information and making plans to deal with the corruption himself. Especially not at this stage. 

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking. "My apologies, Your Majesty," Wonwoo says calmly. "I am still in the process of uncovering information from the prisoners. It takes time to gather valuable evidence.”

“I understand, Wonwoo,” the king says, “but you know very well that time is of the essence. We cannot wait much longer.”

“I assure you that I am working diligently to resolve this situation as quickly as possible-“

“Pardon me for interrupting,” a man speaks up from somewhere in the line. 

Wonwoo's eyes fly towards the voice, finding it belonging to Jung Hyunsoo—the Minister of Agriculture. Coincidentally, this was the latest name dropped by Seungcheol, showing him all the undeniable evidence that the middle-aged man had been mistreating labourers in the farming sector. 

“Your Majesty, with all due respect, I must protest about this so-called diligence your son claims to be displaying,” Hyunsoo frowns, shifting focus between the king and the prince. “In my humble opinion, he is being far too lenient and loose with his duties, allowing these criminals to be held without proper punishment for this long.”

Wonwoo swallows his anger. "I understand your concern and frustration, Minister Jung, but rest assured that I am fully committed to fulfilling my duties as prince. I am well aware of the gravity of the situation and any delay in the resolution is entirely necessary and in the best interest of the kingdom.”

He tips his chin, sending a piercing look to the man. 

“Patience is a virtue, especially in such delicate matters."

Hyunsoo grits his teeth, his jaw clenching for a second before he forces away his frustration. Yet, he cannot erase it from his voice. 

“Patience should not be taken for granted, and I am rapidly running out of my own,” he gets out, nostrils flared in suppressed anger. “Punish them accordingly instead of wasting your time on those low-lives.”

Punish? Bound Mingyu by even heavier chains? Drag him out into the centre of town to get publicly humiliated while several strikes are delivered to his body, then hold him behind bars for the rest of his life? It makes Wonwoo’s stomach flip. 

Wonwoo doesn’t think it’s obvious, but the king must notice the shift in his son’s demeanour, clearing his throat and garnering the attention of everyone present. 

“We understand, Minister Jung. We will take care of the matter promptly.”

A cold gust of wind rushes past, making the Prince clutch his reins a little tighter as his hair blows into his eyes, obstructing his vision momentarily. He follows the guard in front, leading him back to the castle along the dirt road, covered in a thin layer of snow. 

The snow crunches under the hooves of the horses, their breath coming out in wisps of white vapour in the frigid air. Above him, the sky is grey, heavy with the promise of snow. 

He sits up straighter. They need to arrive back at the castle. As winter sets in, the temperature in the dungeon will only begin to drop. The quicker he returns to the palace, the faster he can find a way to get Mingyu and the rest out of there. 

It should be simpler now that he’s handed all the evidence of corruption to the royal court. He had to deliver it himself, otherwise they would not realise the urgency of the situation. However, with the prince’s presence, they would take action within the next couple of days. 

The royal ensemble continues forward, the chilly air biting at Wonwoo’s cheeks. 

All that occupies his mind now is the nagging need to return back to the castle. Mingyu did have the tendency to run warm, but would it be enough for him to stave off the cold?

Wonwoo tightens his jaw. 

Probably not. 

He had seen Mingyu was last night, stepping down into the dungeon and pulling him into the interrogation room once again. His eyes were sunken, hair mussed and falling over his forehead. 

Wonwoo had gently carded the strands away before bringing him in for a kiss. Mingyu’s lips were rough and cracked, the jagged edges of his skin scratching at Wonwoo’s mouth. But he savoured it all the same, soothing his tongue over the raw skin. 

“You make it so difficult for me to leave,” Wonwoo had murmured against his lips. 

Despite every inch of his skin burning with the need to stay here with Mingyu, he had taken the man back to his cell, one last brush of their hands, over Wonwoo’s silver ring, before he ascended back up the castle. 

Just a little longer. I’ll be sure to set you free. 

Though, now time was stretching even wider as the prince and his staff stumble upon commotion on the path, causing them to bring their horses to a halt. At the back of the group, Wonwoo pokes his head up. 

There is a large mob of travellers, moving along slowly, each one burdened with some kind of goods. The horses and carriage they have create a steady, but slow-moving train, one that takes up the entire width of the path, blocking the royals from passing through. 

“What is the meaning of this?” One of Wonwoo’s guards at the front grumbles at the group. “Move along!” 

One of the travellers turn on their mounted horse. “We cannot go any faster than this or we risk damaging our goods. They have been requested by His Majesty, the King,” The man eyes the guard, gaze lingering on his royal badge. “Are you not aware?”

Wonwoo moves to the front. “Aware of what?” He doesn’t know of his father ordering anything out of the blue. 

The traveller immediately bows his head at the sight of the prince. “Your Highness,” he greets. “We received a sudden request to deliver the Feast of Justice.”

Wonwoo jolts at the revelation, his heart skipping a beat. 

The Feast of Justice? No…it can’t be. The words hit him with a force of a bull, triggering an immediate panic. Without wasting another moment, Wonwoo spurs his horse forward, urging it into a gallop as he veers off the main path and into the forest. 

He hears a shout of his name, but it fades away as he travels further from his group, not caring to stop. 

The Feast of Justice was a customary dinner following the display of punishment on the castle grounds. It could mean humiliation, pain or even death. 

This was Minister Jung’s doing. Wonwoo knew it. If that bastard had just given him one, or two more days, he would not be speeding through the forest, fearful of what kind of hell Mingyu was going to be subject to—if Mingyu was already being punished at this very moment. 

He grits his teeth, ducking and weaving, dodging low-hanging branches and jumping over fallen logs. The adrenaline coursing through his veins keeps him focused on his destination, ignoring the pain of the occasional branch whipping against his arms. The sound of his horse's laboured breathing and the pounding of its hooves against the forest floor fill his ears, creating a steady rhythm that drives him forward. 

Despite the dangerous terrain, he continues to power through, urging his horse to go faster.

“Come on, boy,” he grunts, leaning low on his saddle. “Just a little more, we're nearly there.”

The castle is getting closer, but every second feels like an eternity as he continues his flight through the reckless forest. 

Finally, they emerge from the thick foliage, the castle gates metres away. The crowds are dense and everyone turns to the sound of heavy hooves, puzzled at the sight of the frantic prince. 

“Captives, step forward!” A loud voice booms, the jeers of the crowd going stronger. “Lee Jiwon, Choi Seungcheol, Yoon Jeonghan and Kim Mingyu—you will now receive your punishment!”

Wonwoo’s heart jumps to his throat, his wind pipe closing up rapidly upon hearing the last name. He clambers off his horse, pushing past the crowd with no sense of courtesy. The prince gets shoved and jostled, gets berated with curses until people realise who they’ve just insulted. 

Reaching the front of the crowd he is breathless. His eyes race over the makeshift stage at centre of the courtyard, several guards and royal staff stationed around it. His gaze searches and searches until he finds the figure he had been dreading to see up there the most. 

Mingyu stands in the line among the rest of the captives, body shackled with even more chains than before, rattling with even a twitch of a muscle. His eyes are downcast, shoulders slumped as he doesn’t look anywhere but the stone floor in front of him. 

The aura he used to once carry himself with, the determination, the pride—that did not waver even in the cold, hard dungeon… Wonwoo could not see a flicker of it now. 

The sight of Mingyu chained did not stir him, the bitter truth was that he had gotten accustomed to seeing it. But it was the waves of defeat rolling off his body that struck a pang through Wonwoo’s chest. 

Wonwoo is frozen in place as the cheering of the crowd drops to low murmurs in response to the guards tugging the first fugitive onto the stage. Mingyu. 

They force him to his knees, a grunt falling from his lips as his bone collides with the hard floor. His chains are anchored to a pole, preventing any attempts of escape and the shackles dig into his wrists. 

Not once does he look up. 

Another guard steps forward, wielding a long, leather strap in his hands. 

The air in the court is tense, the silence deafening and choking. 

Without a word, the guard raises the strap, bringing it down on Mingyu’s back with a piercing crack. 

Wonwoo’s knees buckle, the air smacked out of his lungs as if he’s the one that’s been struck. 

He flinches as another whip is delivered to Mingyu’s back, the chains on his arms rattling as he instinctively jerks forward. 

Mingyu doesn’t make a sound, not until the leather hits his back for a third time, hardened jaw falling open with a pained ground. 

It sends Wonwoo lurching forward. He cannot stand to watch this for another second. 

“Your Highness, what are you doing?” A hand wraps around his arm, Seokmin’s words gritted through a whisper. “You mustn’t be down here.”

They don’t get through to Wonwoo, his entire world has collapsed in front of him, on its knees. 

“Wonwoo.”

The prince hears it this time. 

“People are talking,” Seokmin says low, eyes flitting to the crowds whispering about the prince’s presence on the court. 

Wonwoo doesn’t know how he gets upstairs. He feels his body going through the motions, one foot in front of the other, Seokmin’s palm pressed against his arm out of concern. All that’s ringing through his ears is the splitting sound of leather hitting flesh. 

The smack, the whip, it scars itself into Wonwoo’s brain. He can’t imagine the marks it will leave on Mingyu. 

“Your Majesty,” Seokmin bows, bringing Wonwoo to the balcony to join the royal family. “The Prince has arrived.”

Nausea swirls in Wonwoo’s gut as another strike is delivered, the sound climbing up the walls of the castle. He’s bitten his lips raw.

His father takes a hold of his palm with practised subtlety and comfort, sensing the overwhelming anxiety in his son. “We had no choice.”

The king’s voice drops. 

“Minister Jung was pushing,” he says, head nodding back vaguely. 

Wonwoo snaps his head up then, eyes finding the man draped over the balcony, a sick shadow of a smile on his face as he watches the scene on the courtyard unfold as if it was entertainment. 

All the nausea floods out of Wonwoo. He sees red. 

It would be so easy, he thinks. The bastard was so engrossed in the show below, Wonwoo could approach him and knock him several feet to the stone floor, without him even having the chance to save himself, watch that smirk colour with crimson. 

A loud cry reverberates in his ear, deep and choking with pain. 

“Your Highness!” Seokmin shouts after him when Wonwoo darts past everyone. 

Wonwoo’s heart pounds as he races down the never ending staircase, each step urgent and fuelled by Mingyu’s tormented groans. 

He all but bursts through the doors, short of air and panicked. The scene in front of him is just as he had left before, the crowds, the guards, Mingyu, still tethered to the pole. 

Except now Mingyu has buckled forward, bracing himself on his trembling arms as red stains the fabric on his back. 

Wonwoo feels sick to his stomach. He should never have left. He should’ve stopped this before a single whip could land on Mingyu’s skin. 

“Stop!”

He throttles through the crowd, the loud barking of Wonwoo’s voice catching the attention of the guards and commoners. 

“Stop this instant!” Wonwoo commands, reaching the stage as he struggles to catch his breath. 

The air gets punched out of his lungs when Mingyu weakly raises his head, their eyes meeting. They’re red, brimming with tears, but it’s not the pain-stricken look behind them that makes Wonwoo gasp for a breath. 

It’s the disbelief in them, the surprise. As if he hadn’t been expecting Wonwoo to intervene… as if he believed Wonwoo had handed him this punishment and he accepted it. 

Did Mingyu truly think Wonwoo could put him through this? That he would punish him and subject him to such cruelty when it was ripping his heart out?

Was this how Mingyu had felt when Wonwoo doubted his feelings for him?

The guard on stage pauses abruptly, the whip in his hand hanging limply as it was dropped mid-strike. “Pardon, Your Highness?” 

“That is enough,” Wonwoo says, firm and authoritative. “You may cease punishment now.”

The guard stutters, taken aback by the unexpected instruction. “B-but Your Highness, Minister Jung has ordered us to—“

"I don't care what Minister Jung has ordered," Wonwoo cuts the guard off with a sharp glare, his voice leaving no room for argument. " I am your prince and you take orders from me ,” he snaps. “And right now, I command the suspension of this punishment!”

The guard hesitates for a moment, clearly uneasy about defying Minister Jung's orders, but Wonwoo's tone makes it clear that he's not going to back down. Reluctantly, the guard lowers his whip and backs away from Mingyu.

The crowd breaks into hushed murmurs, the guards exchanging glances with each other. If Wonwoo were to look up, he might see Hyunsoo’s eyes shooting daggers at him, face red and splotchy with anger. 

But Wonwoo doesn’t look up, his stomach flipping at the blood staining Mingyu’s clothes. 

This time there’s no one—nothing to stop him from diving forward and falling to his knees in front of Mingyu, the latter staring at him through glassy eyes. 

If he could, he would gather Mingyu in his arms right then and there, hold him close and beg for his forgiveness. 

However the last thing he needs is rumours and gossip, people running their mouths and coming up with false beliefs. It would break everything he just went and fought for hours ago. 

Wonwoo grits his teeth, putting up a strong front, hiding his weakness with a mask of indifference. 

He forces himself to his feet, standing up even when the weight of the world was holding him down. 

It all crumbles down in the safety of his room hours later when night has fallen, door locked, bandages heaped on his desk and the pungent odour of antiseptic clinging to the air. 

Wonwoo drops his head, nose prickling. 

A single wet droplet lands on his satin sheets. 

The bed immediately creaks. “Are you…crying?” Mingyu asks slowly, carefully, as he leans forward. 

Wonwoo does not respond, watching the tear seep into the fabric and grow into a larger spot. 

“Hey, stop that,” Mingyu gently lifts Wonwoo’s face, getting their eyes to meet, acceptance meeting sorrow. 

The edges of Wonwoo’s vision are blurry, but he can see the small smile Mingyu’s lips are stretched into. It amazes him how he can still find it within him to smile, when a few more inches down his body he was tied up with bandages. All over his back and wrapped around his shoulders, the white plasters hugging him tightly, a stark contrast against his sun-kissed skin. 

Though it was easier to look at than the initial state he brought him up in. Shirt soaked in blood, angry, red welts littering his back and the shape of the whip forced onto his skin. It would take months to heal. 

Wonwoo had traced his thumb over an indent, raw and pink. It made his lips wobble. What if it never healed?

“I’m so sorry, Mingyu,” Wonwoo croaks, moving past a lump in his throat. He fails to blink away another tear, the droplet cascading down his cheek and hitting Mingyu’s thumb. 

“Don’t cry, my prince,” Mingyu strokes his cheek. “Why are you shedding tears for me?”

“I love you.”

It’s the first time Wonwoo says it point-blank.

“I cannot bear to see you hurt.”

“I’m not hurt, Wonwoo,” Mingyu reassures him, hand sliding around his neck to cup the back of it. “I’m okay because you took care of me.”

He twists the shorter hairs above Wonwoo’s nape between his fingers. 

“I’m here because you saved me, and I’m with you right now because you love me,” Mingyu says quietly, eyes resting on Wonwoo’s conflicted ones. “I am everything you made me.”

Wonwoo’s breath catches in his throat, the raw sincerity brimming in Mingyu’s words and expression enough to choke him. 

“Then tonight,” Wonwoo starts, a tremble in his delivery, “...will you be mine?”

Wonwoo’s eyes fall shut, head dropping in a mixture of shame, guilt and desperation. 

“…please.”

Air rushes past him, his back suddenly colliding with the mattress. 

Mingyu’s arms bracket his head, body hovering above his own and emanating waves of heat. He brushes their lips together, a ghosting touch. 

“I can be yours tonight,” Mingyu breathes over his mouth, hot and heavy. “If you will be mine every other night.”

It is a lot to ask for. Wonwoo is the prince of this kingdom and as of now, Mingyu was still a convict. 

But Wonwoo would figure out a way, however difficult it may be and however long it would take. Wonwoo would keep Mingyu by his side and right in front of his eyes. 

He shudders as a nose runs along the underside of his jaw, head tilting back instinctively, giving Mingyu the opportunity to trail his lips down his neck. 

A gasp stumbles out of him as his skin is caught between Mingyu’s wet lips. 

“Do I have to convince you, my prince?”

Wonwoo buries Mingyu further into his neck, urging the press of his lips once more. “Show me how much you love me, Mingyu.”

A kiss is dropped to the side of his neck before Mingyu rises, eyes ablaze as he looks into Wonwoo’s with firm conviction. He presses his lips to the sapphire gem on the prince's finger. “You will never question it again.”

Then Mingyu surges down, capturing Wonwoo’s lips in a searing, consuming kiss, one that sends fire bursting alight at every single nerve ending. 

Wonwoo reels with the force of it, the tender urgency behind the way Mingyu slots his tongue past his lips. He arches up into him, mindfully wrapping his arms around his neck rather than his back. 

Every breath is stolen from Wonwoo’s lungs, Mingyu devouring him fervently and making them his own. It’s a desperate thing, the chase of their tongues, the tangled fingers in Mingyu’s hair. There is no finesse, nothing delicate about the way they cling to each other.  

It’s messy, heady and passionate, the saliva stringing their lips together, dissolving all the painful moments that have ever haunted them. 

It’s messy, but never careless, never rough. Mingyu is gentle, but needy as he undresses Wonwoo from head to toe, hands roaming over all the new skin, followed by his lips mapping out every crevice and curve, lingering on the moles scattered across his body. 

It’s messy, but not once is it rushed. Wonwoo writhes on the sheets, face contorted in an unfamiliar pleasure as Mingyu carefully stretches him open with an oiled finger, so tender, almost painstakingly slow, but so good. 

“Oh Gods,” Mingyu groans in his ear, finally sinking into the prince until the front of his thighs become flush with the backs of Wonwoo’s. 

Wonwoo feels like he’s being ripped apart into two, but Mingyu isn’t faring any better, dropping heavy pants against the side of his neck, hips twitching from this much alone. 

“I’ve wanted this for so long…” Mingyu admits as Wonwoo unfurls his fists. “But now, I don’t even know if I can last—oh, you’re so warm.”

“Then we can do it all over again,” Wonwoo reaches into Mingyu’s hair, another on his hip bone, tracing a circle there. 

Then he rolls his hips, breaking them both out into a moan as it brushes all the right spots. 

From then on, it’s pure bliss, their bodies moving in harmony. Wonwoo spreads his legs wide, pulling them far apart so Mingyu can angle himself just right, thrusting into him with a fervid energy. It makes obscene sounds, wet smacks and skin slapping, all in between the moans that fall from their lips. 

The air is hot and earthy, making their skin sweaty. Wonwoo pushes the hair back on Mingyu’s forehead, a drop of perspiration sliding down the side of the latter’s face and dripping onto Wonwoo’s chest. 

Wonwoo’s toes curl as Mingyu drives into his bundle of nerves, making a lewd cry that spurs Mingyu to hit the spot again and again. 

“I’ll come like this, Mingyu,” Wonwoo grunts, fingers digging into the man’s biceps. “I’ll—ah! ” Another tap to his prostate, sending shockwaves up his spine. 

“Will you really?” Mingyu asks breathlessly, eyes glassy as he keeps himself close to Wonwoo. 

He snaps his hips forward, gaze falling between Wonwoo's legs.

“Can I really unravel the prince without a single touch here?” 

Wonwoo grits his teeth, holding back a wrangled moan. “You underestimate the power you have over me.”

Another jolt of pleasure spikes through Wonwoo, his stomach flipping. He can’t take it much longer, he’s throbbing between his legs. He takes Mingyu’s face in his hands, pressing their foreheads together. 

“You have me at your command.”

Mingyu’s breath seems to hitch and his hips stutter against Wonwoo’s. 

The next thrust is delivered with a scorching kiss. Mingyu pulls back until their lips are just hovering and the head of his cock sits against Wonwoo. 

“Come for me, my prince.” 

Then he plunges forward. 

The dam bursts, Wonwoo’s abdomen tightening before pleasure floods his entire body. Ropes of white shoot out of him, painting his stomach and chest with the force of his climax. He’s still rippling with the aftershocks when he opens eyes he hadn’t realised had fallen shut. 

Mingyu stares at him in pure wonder and astonishment, eyes running up the length of his body, lingering at his soft cock that now lays limp. 

“Oh Wonwoo,” he licks his lips, “you are beautiful.”

Wonwoo clenches around him, winding his arms around the younger man’s neck. He locks his ankles behind his lower back. “Come on.”

Mingyu’s pulses inside of him. 

“Let me have it.”

Wonwoo clings to Mingyu’s body, holding back his own from convulsing on the sheets as the latter chases his own release. It’s a frantic race to the finish, Wonwoo is biting down on his lips from the oversensitivity and Mingyu is whining with every thrust as Wonwoo’s walls clamp down on him. 

“Wonwoo—“

Mingyu chokes on a cry of the prince’s name, pushing himself into the hilt until he’s pouring his seed, hot and forceful, deep inside of Wonwoo. He empties himself out and Wonwoo takes it all, his thighs trembling from the fullness of it all. 

Wonwoo inhales sharply, attempting to steady his heart. “So good, Mingyu. You are so good.”

A heavy weight falls against him, Mingyu dropping himself on Wonwoo’s body, uncaring of the dried come that sticks to both of their chests now. He mouths at Wonwoo’s neck, using a sliver of pointy teeth that Wonwoo knows will leave marks. 

So he turns his head, catching Mingyu’s mouth in a kiss, slow and sensual, a languid dance of their tongues as Mingyu begins to slip out, his seed dribbling out of Wonwoo. 

“I love you,” Mingyu drags his tongue against Wonwoo’s pink lips. “I love you so much, Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo cups his cheek, pushing deeper into the kiss. “And I love you even more than that.”

“Goodness, I almost don’t want to let you out of my room.”

Mingyu chuckles from the dressing table, catching Wonwoo’s eyes in the mirror. “What? Will you chain me up here?”

“I might have to,” Wonwoo says, sitting up on the bed as the sheets swim around his naked body, the morning sunlight and breeze forming small goosebumps on his skin. “Those palace ladies can never keep their eyes off you.”

“Is that what this is? Jealousy?” Mingyu does up the remaining buttons on his shirt, straightening out the wrinkles before reaching for his tie. 

Wonwoo already has it in his hand, somehow having crawled out of bed already. 

“You think they didn’t get the message when we tied the knot in front of everyone?” Mingyu jokes, letting Wonwoo secure the tie around his neck. 

“Well, from my observations, it hasn’t stopped them from undressing you with their eyes,” the prince grumbles, pushing up the knot of the tie. 

Mingyu’s lips stretch into a smile, mirth dancing behind his eyes. He puts his hands on Wonwoo’s waist, pulling his bare body flush against his own. “Well, from my observations, you’re the one that can actually do that.”

“Hm, the only one,” Wonwoo hums in satisfaction, hands sliding underneath Mingyu’s shirt. 

“Not right now,” Mingyu draws his eyebrows together in an attempt at authority, pulling Wonwoo’s hands out of his shirt, their matching rings clinking together. 

“Mm, I can be quick,” Wonwoo murmurs, grinding himself on Mingyu’s clothed crotch. “Don’t you want to give me your fill before you go?”

Mingyu’s lips quirk up in amusement, hands squeezing Wonwoo’s trim waist. “You are one greedy prince, you know that?” 

Wonwoo steals a kiss from his lips. 

“If you wanted me by your side all day you should have made me your butler. Not the commander.”

Sighting rather dramatically, Wonwoo lets Mingyu go, fixing the collar of his shirt. 

Mingyu smiles at him, pressing his lips to the prince’s cheek. “I’ll see you tonight.”

They see each other before that, in the palace meeting room, Mingyu lowering his body into a bow upon entering the room and his team following suit. 

“Your Highness,” Mingyu lifts his head, his royal emblem glinting in the sunlight. “Seungcheol has reported back. I believe it is in our best interests to make a move now.”

Wonwoo meets his eyes, the confidence and earnestness in them back and stronger than ever. 

He nods his head. “I trust your decision, Commander.”