Archive of Our Own

The only thing Seonghwa knows about is cold. Cold temperature that never go away, cold hands against his skin, helping him getting dressed, cold words and actions coming from people surrounding him. He’s tired, sick of the cold, but he cannot exactly run away from it.

“Your Highness,” a voice calls, forcing him to turn around and give his back to the large window he had been staring through, snow sticking to the crystal, “They’re waiting for you in the main hall”

Seonghwa sighs, adjusting his adornments and the crown over his head before making his way down to the hall, where he quickly finds his place at his father’s left, bowing his head at both him and his mother. As the prince of the ice kingdom –Galanthus, but no one has the decency to call it by its name outside the realm– Seonghwa deals with many responsibilities. He’s at an age where he should be ready to be a king, but he isn’t. He is, as his father so repetitively calls him, “a daydreamer”; constantly getting lost in his own world, thoughts about how his life would be if the circumstances were different floating around his head, the possibility to fulfill his many passions and desires so evidently inexistent that he can’t help but just indulge himself into his thoughts, because he knows that’s the closest he’ll ever be to what he truly wants.

It is nothing but a horrible situation, and he can’t help but despise it with his whole being.

He despises it so badly that it taints his legacy. Seonghwa doesn’t want to be a king; he doesn’t like to be part of monarchy, he doesn’t even like monarchy as a whole, and he just wants to run away from everything. From the heavy weight that’s been rested upon his shoulders since before he was born, from his fears that haunt him and keep him awake during the night, from his parents and their cold attitude, oh so typical of people from Galanthus.

But more than anything, he wants to know what warmth feels like.

Real warmth; not hot tea or coffee or overall food with its artificial warmth that fades away quickly due the low temperature that rules over the lands of his kingdom, but real warmth. The warmth of the sun, that he has barely ever seen through the clouds –and even in the days when his lands were blessed with some sun, it was still too cold to feel its effect– and the supposedly pleasant climate from spring, they’re things he’s only ever read about in books brought to him by his father from other kingdoms when he visits them. Seonghwa wished, wished, wished, his father would take him there, because they sounded enticing, even though his father would always portray temperatures that weren’t below freezing in a negative way.

But then again, he was never allowed to leave the kingdom. He was rarely even allowed to leave the castle and he was always heavily guarded, followed closely by a crew of only the best knights his father employs.

Seonghwa rolls his eyes at the ceiling over his head as he lies down on bed, formal clothes already gotten rid of, replaced by comfortable robes that serve him as a cover for the nighttime...as if he could even sleep at all.

The thing about Seonghwa being a daydreamer is: he’s also a nightdreamer, if that’s even a term. His imagination flies high during the day to wonderful places, and low during the night. His mind wanders to dark alleys Seonghwa would most likely avoid in any other moment, but he can’t help it, and his mind soars through the endless possibilities of what his life will surely be. Even if he likes to dream about warmth and sunlight, his reality consists of many other (completely unrelated) things.

He’s turning twenty-one next year, which marks the time he’ll be crowned as the new king. His parents are trying to get him a wife even before that, because a king can’t be a competent king without his queen, of course. He’ll have to rule a realm that’s too big for its own good, take care of people and negotiations, have a heir with his future wife, handle being a father and a king, a good husband, a good son, all at the same time… all while he pretends he’s as cold-hearted as the people from this place.

He isn’t certain why he’s the way he is; both his parents are from Galanthus –his mother being an addition to the family thanks to the marriage of a distant relative, and since his father didn’t want to relate to anyone from “warmer” kingdoms, he simply married her. He has grown up here and never even set one single foot outside the border, he follows galanthian manners and traditions, yet his heart longs for something else.

It started as curiosity when he was just a kid… hearing from books adults read to him about anything other than cold and snow when all he had ever seen since he opened his eyes was a white mantle covering it all was, obviously, mesmerizing, and it made him think about it a lot. One of the servants that took care of him as a child had been to warmer kingdoms before, and she indulged his desire for knowledge and his curiosity by telling him about them. She would describe how the trees were covered in green leaves and how even the people were literally warm, smiling at Seonghwa’s baffled expression when she affirmed that their skin was a higher temperature, and a touch of their hands would feel like touching a cup of tea that had been set aside for a little while.

She was thrown out not long after, for “filling the young prince’s head with nonsense and unimportant matters when he has so much more to learn” they said. Seonghwa couldn’t help but feeling upset, and hurried up to try to read better so he could know more about these kingdoms and the peculiar yet enchanting mysteries they held.

Time had flown by, and Seonghwa still found himself going back to those books, allowing his mind to wander. He wondered what it would be like to be able to feel something like that, to live in places like those, even if just for a while.

“Son,” His father calls, forcing Seonghwa to snap out of his train of thoughts. It’s only then that he notices there’s more people in the room… probably the guests they had been waiting for, “I beg you to forgive my son, as a future king you know he has many things to think about. He can’t stop worrying about them.”

“Do not worry, it is not a problem,” The man standing in front of them says, bowing his head at Seonghwa since he didn’t perceive it the first time, “I understand Your Highness has many things flowing inside his mind.”

And well, yes, Seonghwa does… but they have nothing to be with his soon-to-be-taken power. Right now –after his focus was quickly changed and brought back to reality– is about the people standing in front of him.

This is the first time in Seonghwa’s twenty years of life that an outsider has come to their palace –not counting, of course, the royal balls. Every time some agreement with another kingdom needed to be discussed, the reunion took place somewhere else. It’s for that same reason that such an odd situation calls Seonghwa’s attention.

He takes his time to scan the room with his eyes, registering the faces of their visitors. There are several knights accompanying them, and he can see them carry shields that symbolize that they serve a different kingdom, there’s a tall man standing right in front of his father, accompanied by a small woman who stands in front of Seonghwa. They must be the king and queen of the other part of the negotiation, he surmises. There are several people with them, but one of them in particular calls Seonghwa’s attention the most.

He’s small, standing right behind one of the knights, fidgeting nervously with the sleeves of his formal attire as he looks at the floor. Despite being told again and again while growing up how staring would be a display of lack of manners, he allows himself to gawk at the boy… at how his hands are small and delicate, his nose bridge is high and elegant like the rest of him, his features soft.

The boy looks up, catching Seonghwa’s eyes on him, but instead of looking away the other simply continues his staring, containing his surprised expression as he sees the boy’s cheeks tint a rosy color as he looks back down. How amazing, Seonghwa had never witnessed such a thing.

Apparently they’re people from a far away realm, and they will be staying in Galanthus for an undefined period of time –read: moving back and forth between this realm and their own– so they can negotiate but also study these lands. Seonghwa is fascinated, to say the least, by the new welcomed intruders in their palace. He wants to talk to them, he has so much to ask, so much he’d like to know. He wants to touch their hands and confirm if what the servant had told him so many years ago was true, but he stays quiet instead, sat with his back perfectly straightened and never once looking up from his plate of food during the midday feast they were offering for their new guests. It would be more than unmannered –barbarian, even– and he’s a young prince, soon-to-be king, who must know how to control himself.

He wonders if the boy is a soon-to-be king as well, because if he is then he’s doing at terrible job at controlling himself and showcasing his manners, being the one staring now. He’s been staring the entire time, his eyes burning holes in Seonghwa’s skin as the prince tries his best to ignore him.

Once they’re done eating they’re all directed to the great hall, where the kings wander to a side of the room to discuss the important matters while they let the others freely roam around.

“Would it be inappropriate if I asked you to let the young ones get to know each other while we enjoy a cup of tea?” The petite woman asks Seonghwa’s mother, who in response gives her a small –cold– smile and signals with her hand that the other could walk at the front, out of pure courtesy.

“I think it would be wonderful if our Seonghwa got to talk and get along with someone his age,” He hears his mother say before they walk off.

So, this young prince happens to be Seonghwa’s age –though he doesn’t look like he is, not at all. That is an unexpected surprise. Seonghwa watches as their mothers walk to the other side of the room, sitting down in front of each other before turning his head to his companion, who bows deeply at him; Seonghwa blinks one, two times before slightly bowing his head down.

He doesn’t open his mouth… what could he say honestly? It’s the first time he’s ever been so close to someone his age and allowed to talk freely. The times before this one were all in royal balls, where they either were unable to so much as open their mouths or forced to talk about important matters occurring in monarchy at the moment.

Seonghwa looks at the boy in front of him, short in height, cheeks starting to gain the same rosy color they did the time they first locked eyes, and the crown prince can only keep staring at him, amazed.

“My name is Kim Hongjoong, and I am the prince of the west kingdom,” the boy finally speaks in a low, shy tone, looking at Seonghwa’s chest instead of meeting his eyes.

“My name is Park Seonghwa, future king of Galanthus,” Seonghwa introduces himself. The last part feels heavy on his tongue, his icy tone contrasting greatly with the boy’s small and shy voice, and he hates it.

“It must be hard,” the boy says after a while, “to carry the title of a king. You’re destined to lead a nation and take care of all of its people, when you didn’t even ask for it.”

It’s an indiscretion… he didn’t mean to say it, Seonghwa can tell by the way he quickly covers his mouth with his left hand, cheeks so red, turning to look at their parents before turning again at Seonghwa and waving his right hand in the air in front of him.

“I beg you to forgive me, Prince Seonghwa,” He says quickly, his voice a little higher in pitch, “I didn’t mean to say that! I don’t intend to insinuate you’re not capable of doing such a thing, I know you’re perfectly capable and fit for it! You’ve been trained since you were born and-”

“How do you do that?” Seonghwa cuts him off, expression unaffected. He doesn’t care if Prince Hongjoong thinks he is or isn’t capable of handling the position of king, he himself knows he isn’t, so he doesn’t pay any mind to the boy’s babbling, “Getting your cheeks all red,” he clarifies when the other sends him a confused look.

Prince Hongjoong’s cheeks grow darker in color, and it spreads up to his ears, making Seonghwa raise his eyebrows at him.

“I beg you to forgive me,” he whispers, sounding embarrassed.

“Your ears too? How is that possible?” Seonghwa asks this time, more for himself that for Prince Hongjoong to hear him. He leans down to be closer to the boy, to examine him better, “I’ve never seen such a thing”

The smaller boy leans a bit back, the color of his face not fading away.

“I-I’m blushing,” he stutters, “Because I am embarrassed of what I said”

Seonghwa looks at him curiously. He’s read that term a few times in some books, but he’s never witnessed it before.

“So your blood rushes to your face when you’re embarrassed?” Seonghwa questions, still leaning close to the other prince, but not close enough that he invades his personal space.

“Y-yes,” the smaller keeps on stuttering. Seonghwa hums.

“People from other kingdoms sure are interesting.”

People from other kingdoms really are interesting, Seonghwa quickly learns, their differences standing out almost painfully, their warmth too much for this cold place.

He’s forced by his mother to spend time with Hongjoong, much to his father’s distress, by declaring he should make at least one friend before claiming the throne. He knows better than that; the west kingdom is strong, and although Hongjoong has an older brother who is the one already in the process of taking over the throne, an ally who’s so close to the king would never be too bad.

The younger never stops amazing Seonghwa. He has unique ways to see the world, and to express it through his words, always throwing carelessly a new term in a new different language and explaining its meaning right after.  He speaks many tongues from different kingdoms, assuring that his father had wanted him to since he was young so he could communicate with others better, so it’d be easy for him to establish relationships and friendships with other nations. The fact alone surprises Seonghwa beyond belief; as a member of royalty he was taught since a young age than the only tongue he needed to speak was his own, and that if others wanted to address him then they’d have to learn it, because he was superior to all of them.

It’s not only that fact that surprises him. Many things about Hongjoong surprise him... many things about his whole family, in fact. They’re so different from everything Seonghwa is used to that he feels like they don’t make sense. Like when he walks into the room where they’re serving breakfast for all of them and he sees not just Hongjoong kissing his mother’s cheeks, but his mother kissing him back. Was that something people outside Galanthus regularly did? It was odd, so odd.

This afternoon in particular, the young princes sit on the library together, chairs next to each other just like their cups of tea. It was odd to be so close to someone at all; usually he’d sit an arm or two away from whoever occupied the library at the same time as him (usually his mother, rarely his father) and they ignored each other. Hongjoong, however, made a beeline straight to the seat next to Seonghwa’s, moving his tea to his left so I could rest right next to the elder’s. He occasionally made small comments about whatever, or babbled to himself in a low tone that was impossible to understand, and it was odd, but Seonghwa didn’t comment.

“The tea is cold,” Hongjoong whispers to himself when he takes a sip of it.

“You have to drink it fast, it usually does not last long being warm because of the weather,” Seonghwa says, without lifting his eyes off the page of the book he's holding even though he’s long lost his focus on it. He was too concentrated on trying to decipher what is it that Hongjoong babbles about in his velvet-like whispers, “So we usually drink it cold.”

“Oh,” Seonghwa hears the young prince say, “So is everything here cold? Even what you eat?”

Seonghwa hears the book being set on the table and sighs, closing his own book and setting it beside his untouched cup of tea.

“Yes,” he says simply, “Everything about Galanthus is cold. What we eat, what we drink, our people...all cold.”

His voice sounds dull and uninterested, as it always has, and for once he’s glad about it because that way the younger cannot know how much he repudiates the cold and his whole nation.

“I see.” Hongjoong says, pensive, because it probably seems odd to him, just like everything about him seems odd to Seonghwa.

“You and your people are very different,” Seonghwa says, looking at Hongjoong attentively as his head snaps up and they make eye contact. Hongjoong’s thick glasses delicately rolled down on the bridge of his nose from when he was looking down, “You’re very different from anyone I’ve ever met”

The younger prince’s cheeks tint red at that, making Seonghwa tilt his head, curiously wondering why could that be.

“You’re really so… interesting,” he says, in a low voice, his hand rising up to Hongjoong’s cheek, but he catches himself before he can touch him.

Seonghwa clears his throat, about to apologize, embarrassed, but Hongjoong just looks at him and nods, granting him permission to touch him. The older looks around, making sure no one’s there to witness what feels like something he definitely shouldn’t do, and then turns around and cups Hongjoong’s still-flushed cheek with his palm.

It’s warm, it’s so very warm.

The younger flinches a bit, murmuring something about how cold Seonghwa’s hand is, and when he places his own –much smaller, much softer– hand over the older prince’s. It’s like a sparkle over his skin, Hongjoong’s cheek is warm but his hand is too, and Seonghwa can’t stop his free hand from finding its way to the other’s, playing with it and rubbing his fingers against his palm, incredibly fascinated.

“How is it that you’re so… so warm?” Seonghwa says, not so much asking Hongjoong as he’s asking himself, marveling at the pleasant sensation of the higher temperature the other’s skin emanates.

Hongjoong doesn’t answer, but his cheeks grow hotter, and when Seonghwa moves his hand so now he’s cupping both the younger’s cheeks he also moves his other hand to place over Seonghwa’s.

It’s the most pleasant sensation he’s ever felt. Human warmth is certainly different from artificial warmth; a lot more gentle, and it makes Seonghwa feel dependant. He wants more and more of it, to the point he can’t stop himself from holding the other’s hands on his own whenever they’re alone, seeking more and more of the pleasant sensation against his skin. Hongjoong indulges him, lets him hold his hands for however long he wants, no matter how cold Seonghwa’s own are, and the older thinks he’s probably an angel.

Prince Hongjoong from the west kingdom is really being a bad influence by making the future king of Galanthus addicted to warmth. At this point Seonghwa is with no doubt an addict, unable to stop himself from craving the sweet feeling whenever too much time goes by –‘too much time’ usually consisting in just a few hours.

Today is no different. Seonghwa mentally scolds himself from skipping one of his lessons just in favor of looking around the castle to see where Hongjoong could be, to hold his hands and his face just for a little while, just enough that it helps him focus.

He finds the young prince on the main hall, but he’s not alone. He’s accompanied by his mother, for whom he’s reading a book out loud in a tongue Seonghwa cannot comprehend. It’s a pity he won’t get his dose of warmth anytime soon, given that there’s someone else occupying Hongjoong’s time, and he turns on his heels to go back to where he should he reading about how to rule a nation. He hears them speak, completely unaware that there’s someone else to –accidently– hear them.

“Darling, you’ve got such a beautiful voice my son, I love it when you read for me,” Hongjoong’s mother says, her voice gleeful as ever.

Seonghwa stops and looks back. Darling. He’s never heard that. He watches curiously from behind the door to see the younger’s reaction as his mother keeps talking, repeatedly calling him so, and figures he must like it –at least it seems like that, because Hongjoong doesn’t make a bad face. He just smiles brightly and sweetly at his mother, seemingly content, like it makes him happy.

So, of course, Seonghwa shouldn’t, but he can’t help it when, after his study hours are done and he’s sitting in the library with Hongjoong, hands tangled under the table as they focus on their respective books, the name slips out.

“Darling?” Seonghwa calls, not sounding as hesitant as he feels, because he’s a future king and he was taught to never falter even if he feels like doing so.

Hongjoong almost jumps up to the ceiling, his hand tightening over Seonghwa’s as he all but drops his book over his own lap, his cheeks flushed in such a deep shade of red the older can’t help but reach his hands out to touch, delicately cupping his cheeks, stealing his warmth.

“W-why are you calling me that?”

“A prince must never stutter,” Seonghwa’s mind chides, but he can’t do anything other than look with fascination as Hongjoong’s ears tint red, too.

“I heard your mother call you that. My apologies, I didn’t mean to listen to a private conversation,” Seonghwa says, moving his thumbs over Hongjoong’s red cheeks. The younger wraps his hands around his wrists, more to keep him there than to stop him.

“It’s okay,” Hongjoong says. He sounds breathless, “You can call me that”

“I will not if you ask me to stop,” Seonghwa affirms, seeing as the other can’t meet his eyes, and he tries to move his hands away but Hongjoong prevents him.

“No, you can. It’s okay,” Hongjoong tells him, still in a small breathless voice and still unable to look up from his lap, “I like it.”

And so, Seonghwa starts calling him darling whenever he has the chance to. He enjoys more than he should the way Hongjoong’s cheeks get flushed every time because he’s so warm, he feels so warm, and he believes Hongjoong really has made him addicted to that warmth.

It’s around two a.m. during the coldest epoch of the year, two months after the prince and his family first arrived. Seonghwa makes his way out of his room, heavy coat over his shoulders enlarging to the ankles of his high boots with the hood hanging on top of his head. He’s aware that he should not be awake, but everyone else should be asleep as well, so he’s careful to keep his steps quiet, his ears well open to know if there’s some guard or servant walking around so he can hide quickly and avoid getting caught.

He’s successful in his task, and sighs in relief when he reaches Hongjoong’s quarters, knocking ever so lightly on the wood surface and sliding a piece of paper under the door so he doesn’t panic and knows who’s on the other side.

It takes a little, but Hongjoong looks extremely scandalized once he opens the door. He looks like he’s about to ask a lot of questions, but instead, Seonghwa pushes him inside lightly, closing the door behind him and removing his hood.

“Get dressed,” He says. It’s a command but his voice is soft –a whisper– and though at first Hongjoong hesitates, looking at him as if he’s gone mad, he moves to the vestiaire adjacent to his quarters to get in proper clothing.

Once he’s out, Seonghwa makes sure to wrap two extra coats around him before pulling the hood over his head. Hongjoong looks like he’s about to protest, but the older holds a finger against his own lips to signal him to stay quiet.

“I don’t know what epoch of the year your kingdom is going through, but Galanthus’ coldest epoch starts tonight and there’s something very important I want to show you,” He says, grabbing Hongjoong’s gloved hand, “But you have to stay quiet, because we’re not supposed to leave the castle. And you have to tell me if you get too cold, because it’s especially harsh weather. Even I have to wear extra coats, and I don’t want anything happening to you. I will take full responsibility.”

Hongjoong doesn’t say anything. He only nods and lets Seonghwa guide him through the halls and outside the castle, holding tightly to his hand as they go further and further into the gardens.

Once they reach their destination, the older directs Hongjoong to lean down until his knees touch his chest, not sitting on the floor, because the snow would melt and soak through his clothes as it usually did, and tells him to wait.

The young prince looks like he’s about to ask what exactly they are waiting for after a few minutes, but his sentence is cut short when it starts to happen.

Seonghwa can’t take his eyes off Hongjoong as he watches in amazement as flowers of a vibrant, glowing blue begin to bloom in front of their eyes, delicately unfolding their petals for them. He looks more than mesmerized, completely caught off-guard, his mouth slightly agape and his big eyes open wide while he closely examines the marvelous event in front of him. He gasps delicately when the flowers bloom completely, gracefully dancing as the wind caresses them, welcoming them to the world.

“This is a flower only my kingdom has, and it only blooms during the coldest epoch,” He explains in a whisper, careful not to make too much noise. He’s unable to tear his eyes off Hongjoong and how pleasantly surprised he looks, snowflakes catching in his hair and in the white hood that’s covering part of his head, “Technically, it is called Galanthus’ flower... but since the Kingdom’s name already comes from a flower, the residents call it ‘warrior’, because the cold that could drive even one of us insane is the one that makes this flower bloom. It only shows itself at night, when the cold is the worst it’s ever been.”

They stay in silence for a few minutes in which the younger just admires the flowers, reaching his hand out and retracting as if deciding he’s not worthy enough to touch such a wonderful thing.

“Galanthus’ people are like these flowers too,” Hongjoong says, voice soft and ever so delicate, “Extraordinarily beautiful, blooming in the cold”

He says it without lifting his eyes off the spot where more, much smaller flowers are blooming, glowing, bathed against the pale moonlight, but the fact that he just indirectly called Seonghwa beautiful doesn’t just escape him. It fills the older prince’s chest with a strange kind of feeling; warmth. Seonghwa marvels on it, on the fuzzy sensations flooding his chest, and he wonders how such a simple sentence from Hongjoong could have such an effect on him.

He looks at the boy beside him, who’s still dazzled by the flowers, his hand up with a single finger caressing one of the petals as he smiles widely, and he figures there’s some kind of power in his warmth that he’ll never be able to understand. A power that somehow managed to affect him too.

It could all have ended terribly. During the whole adventure, Seonghwa could all but hear his father’s screams at the back of his head. If anything had happened, how he’d get absolutely furious to find out that not only he but also Hongjoong left the castle at such an hour without anyone to protect them. Luckily, the screams never came, and no one, not even the servants, saw them as they snuck their way back into the castle and into Hongjoong’s quarters.

It’s all worth it, though, because when they finally make it to the door, Hongjoong doesn’t hesitate to pull Seonghwa into a hug. Seonghwa returns it by pulling him even closer, moving his scarf down so he can bury his face into the other’s neck. Whatever gratitude he speaks then, so clearly thankful that Seonghwa showed him such a beautiful thing as the blooming of warriors… it is nothing but pure white noise at the back of Seonghwa’s head. He is too busy feeling delighted at the way the skin of his face delicately heats and feels like it’s melting into Hongjoong’s own, making them one.

Seonghwa is an ice prince, so he has never felt much throughout his life: he’s never felt happy, he’s never felt furious or exasperated, he’s never felt excited.

So, naturally, it’s not an exaggeration to say he’s the saddest he’s ever been when Hongjoong’s father announces they’ll be heading back to their kingdom until further notice.

It’s overwhelmingly crushing how desperate he feels as soon as the words leave the king’s mouth. He feels the urge to approach him and tell him to stay, to stay for longer, to stay forever. But he knows better than that so he stays put, doesn’t allow himself to look like he’s affected by it, though Hongjoong must see through that, because he look at Seonghwa with sad and apologetic eyes.

He’s never cried… not since he was a baby, because princes must not show any emotion other than gleefulness. But he has to adjust his scarf so it covers his face entirely, catching the drops of water that fall from his eyes as Hongjoong waves him goodbye from the window of his carriage, his own tears drawing two thick paths down his beautiful flushed cheeks. The young prince doesn’t even bother in hiding them.

It’s like with each inch the carriage moves away, a part of Seonghwa’s soul leaves his body. When it completely disappears from their view, there’s nothing left inside Galanthus’ future king, each part having left along with Hongjoong.

Life without Hongjoong is difficult, to say the least.

It’s boring, and it’s tiring, and it makes Seonghwa wonder how he had lived without him for such a long time.

His duties as a prince, too, are choking him. They’ve always been manageable, but now they’re just annoying, without Hongjoong to hold his hand after a long day, or read for him to keep his mind off it and help him to relieve stress, and he finds himself unable to focus on anything but his own memories.

It doesn’t take much for a memory of Hongjoong to be triggered inside his head, the simplest thing, like the way he can see the warriors shine from his window, or a line from a book, worded in such a beautiful way it can only resemble the way Hongjoong himself expresses at times.

It starts interfering with his life as well, he realizes as he finds himself spacing out during important and unimportant moments equally, remembering the warmth of Hongjoong’s hands, the warmth of his hugs, the warmth his eyes held whenever he looked at Seonghwa smiling, it’s painful to snap out of his daydreams to realize that Hongjoong is in fact not there, and his heart aches because he craves his presence, craves his touch, craves all of him.

When Hongjoong left it felt like the world came crashing down, all color fading into the monotonous shades of white Seonghwa is so used to, so, most definitely, when he comes back a few months later it feels like everything falls back in place, like his soul comes back into his body. He sees the same carriage moving closer and closer to the entrance of the palace, where he and his mother wait from the lowest step of the staircase, as his father stands in front of the door.

The carriage comes to a stop right in front of them, the chauffeur getting off and opening the door for the people inside.

The first to come out is another prince –Seonghwa can tell he is by his clothes–, probably not much older than Seonghwa himself, and he makes an exaggerated reverence, at which the royal family simply nods. Hongjoong steps out next, big smile on his face, looking stunning on his royal attire, extremely elegant given the occasion.

Seonghwa has to control himself not to run forwards and hold him tight against his chest, though he figures the enormous smile he’s showing does just as much to show him how delighted the older is to have him back in their kingdom.

The prince that accompanies Hongjoong introduces himself as the second oldest –therefore, Hongjoong’s brother–, and affirms he’ll be the one continuing the investigation as the king is busy with royal duties.

Seonghwa doesn’t pay much mind, he couldn’t care less who continues what, he’s too focused staring at Hongjoong, at how he looks even more beautiful than he did the last time Seonghwa got the privilege to see him, and how the younger stares back at him with a shy, content smile, standing still with his hands behind his back as their servants work on getting their luggage off the carriage.

The day passes by in a blur, Seonghwa being too focused on his guest to mind anything else, he’s impatient to get warmth again, and when they don’t get alone time during the hours the sun is up, Seonghwa doesn’t let it discourage him, waits until he’s certain everyone’s asleep to sneak out of his quarters and make his way to the young prince’s.

When he gets there, Hongjoong is still awake despite the late hour, still fully dressed, and Seonghwa cannot be happier of not having to wait before pushing him inside the room again, closing the door quietly and pulling him into a big hug.

Hongjoong seems just as happy, small gleeful sounds escaping his mouth as Seonghwa moves him from side to side, for apparently no reason, just because he feels like it.

“I’m so happy that you’re back” he whispers against Hongjoong’s hair, nuzzling his face on his cheek and heavens, he missed too much this warmth.

“I’m happy to be back too” Hongjoong says, though his voice sounds muffled against Seonghwa’s clavicle, and he clings to the older even more, his fingers digging into his back, “My father didn’t want me to come back.”

“And why was that?” Seonghwa asks, feeling drunk on the sensation of Hongjoong’s warm, warm body pressing against his own.

“My brother is finally taking over the throne soon” he says, his fingers starting to draw patterns over Seonghwa’s jacket, “he wanted me to stay with him, all of us, it took a lot of effort to convince him to let me come back, but I still did it because I couldn’t stand how much I missed this place. How much I missed you.”

It makes Seonghwa’s heart jump inside his chest with force, and with how close they are he’s sure Hongjoong felt it too, but he doesn’t mind, he doesn’t mind because he loves it, loves the effect the other has on him, being able to make him feel warm despite of who he is, so he just holds him tight, and tells him how much he missed him as well.

A week later they find each other walking through the woods, their horses walking beside them as they refuse to mount them, rather enjoying the little exercise. With no guards to follow them around the place feels more than just peaceful, and they make their way through the snow covered trees hand in hand.

It’s then that Hongjoong first kisses him, stopping him with a pull of his hand and using the other to haul him down by his neck, forcing their lips to meet.

It creates an explosion inside the older, with too much to focus on, too many thoughts, too many feelings for him to be able to process.

His chest feels tight and funny, in the best way, and his lips feel like they’re burning, Hongjoong’s own lips hot, moving delicately and feeling like the softest thing to ever exist.

Once they pull apart Hongjoong looks like he’s about to apologize for his actions, because of course, a prince should not be kissing another prince in the middle of the woods, but Seonghwa cuts him off by placing his hands on either side of his face, pulling him into another slow kiss, taking his time to properly feel Hongjoong’s lips and enjoying maybe a little too much how the delicate flesh feels against his own.

When Seonghwa lets him go, Hongjoong is smiling like he’s never had before, clearly full of joy, and it shines brighter than the sunlight reflecting against the snow that covers everything around them, his whole presence creating an aura of beautiful peace.

Looking at him like this Seonghwa thinks, not for the first time, that Hongjoong looks so out of place here in the freezing cold, him, such a warm creature, should never experience the harshness a place as cruel as this can put him through, he deserves better, Seonghwa wishes he could give him something better, but what can a cold hearted prince offer to a warm hearted soul?

It only makes whatever is between them, the feelings they share, grow… making them both feel euphoric when they are together –which is, admittedly, most of the time–, they keep sharing lingering touches when they’re sure no one’s looking, and they start sneaking into each other’s quarters at night to talk and hold each other as much as they please, without the fear of someone accidently walking in while they are kissing or simply resting on each other’s arms.

Hongjoong teaches Seonghwa how to love, with his smile and his soft words he steals the future king’s heart, showing him that he can feel warm even if they’re not touching, even if they’re not in the same room, because the memory of Hongjoong always burning inside his heart makes his blood turn into bubbly, warm champagne, and it’s something that he’s more than just thankful for.

Even though Hongjoong is Seonghwa’s first love, he was someone else’s before he was the future king’s.

When the younger prince first mentioned it, Seonghwa was shocked to find out the first person ever he trusted in like this was, in fact, prince Wooyoung from the south kingdom.

They had met before, but never particularly got along; Prince Wooyoung was what his father would call unmannered, his attitude not suiting for a young prince destined to lead a nation. He was loud, but in a gleeful way that seemed to charm everyone who wasn’t from Galanthus, where manners and stoic faces are the most important parts of being accepted by society.

Seonghwa is notoriously shocked when Hongjoong tells him about their past romance, and how it had ended in bad terms –although whichever those terms are, Hongjoong doesn’t go into details about them–, but what shocks him the most is the enormous contrast between him and the younger prince: where Seonghwa doesn’t really show emotion, one could tell whatever prince Wooyoung was thinking with just a quick look at his face, where Seonghwa’s voice is always even and dull, tone flat, prince Wooyoung’s moves up and down in different volumes and intonations depending on how he felt, where Seonghwa is cold and composed, Prince Wooyoung is all emotion and feelings.

It makes Seonghwa feel self-conscious, how Hongjoong went from having someone so happy and warm as his partner to a literal ice prince. Was he, after all, suiting enough for Hongjoong? Or would he perhaps be happier with someone like prince Wooyoung, all smiles and cheerfulness?

It makes Seonghwa feel like he’s not enough, like he’ll never be enough to make the other happy. He knows it’s stupid, and the rational part of him comprehends that whatever Hongjoong once had with prince Wooyoung is long forgotten and gone, but he can’t help feeling in such an awful way, like he will never compare.

To his luck, the younger prince understands, and helps him manage the strong emotions –even if, technically, he’s the cause of them.

“It’s in the past now” he tells Seonghwa, smiling oh so fondly. The older can feel his love, “You’re here for me now, you’re what I need.”

And Seonghwa believes him, because, how could he not?

Tonight there’s a grand royal ball and many kingdoms have been invited, Seonghwa stands straight besides the stairs, hands behind his back, his vesture especially designed for the night, elegant, as he watches the guests march through the door, making sure to lower his head and welcome everyone that comes since that’s the task his parents assigned him.

This ball was organized with the intention to vouch friendship between nations –or so was the façade created for it, but everyone, even the guests, know the true intentions behind it: to study princesses. Seonghwa’s parents use a diplomatic excuse to analyze and determinate future partners for their son, to decide which one would be the most suiting to be the queen that will lead Galanthus alongside him, and Seonghwa is introduced to them as a present, having been ordered to stay at the door and receive everyone, just so the rulers of other nations can give him a proper look and analyze him as well.

It’s almost annoying that his parents think he doesn’t know their intentions, even though they’re calculative and composed, it’s not that hard to guess. He’s supposed to take the crown soon, and he can’t do that while being alone, so it’s an obvious move, and it’s almost naïve of them to think no one will notice such a strategy.

The whole night he moves around, from a side of the hall to another, being called here and there to interact with each of the potential partners his parents like the most, and he hates it.

Of course, the princesses are all beautiful, all showcase their manners in a perfect way, but he’s only called to properly interact with two of them: the two princesses from the closest kingdoms (as he expected), and although they’re not Galanthus people, they’re as cold as one of the citizens on his own nation, and it disgusts him to think he’ll have to spend his life with someone like them. In all honesty, it disgusts him to think he’ll have to spend the rest of his life with anyone who’s not Hongjoong.

His eyes quickly more around the room to find the younger prince, he’s sitting at a table far away, slowly sipping from his drink and looking around as people dance, and Seonghwa’s heart jumps on his chest. He looks beautiful, more than beautiful, it’s like he was carefully planned before he was born, every part of him perfectly designed to make Seonghwa’s heart melt with a heat he thought he’d never be able to experience.

To anyone, it’d seem like Hongjoong is perhaps just a little bored given that he’s all alone, but Seonghwa knows him enough to look beyond that and see how upset Hongjoong really feels, the way his lips are slightly turned down and how he mostly keeps his eyes focused on the floor giving him away, making the older prince’s heart sink and ache, wishing he could do something to make the other feel better.

It’s only after two more hours of walking around the great hall that Seonghwa sees his opportunity, when his father stands up and grabs his mother’s hand, slightly tugging at it so she stands up and walks with him for a dance. Being king and queen, of course, the attention of everyone directs to them, the lights in the hall dimming so they can be the center of attention, and although Seonghwa knows what he’s about to do will earn him to be strongly scolded later on he, for once, doesn’t really care.

His eyes search for Hongjoong around the crowd of people, gathered watching the king and the queen dance, and he quickly makes his way to the other, moving through the less illuminated parts of the room, making sure no one’s paying attention to him.

He taps Hongjoong’s shoulder once he gets to the younger, who seems surprised when he turns around to look at him, his mouth slightly open in a silent gasp, making Seonghwa rush to place a finger over his own, looking around quickly before asking the younger prince to follow him with a move of his hand.

They’re quick to exit the hall, and once they do Seonghwa holds Hongjoong’s hand firmly, directing him to the library where he knows no one is.

“Seonghwa, where are we going?” Hongjoong whispers, he’s probably lost, the corridors are dark, barely illuminated by the moonlight when a window is nearby, but Seonghwa knows them like the palm of his hand, and he ignores the other’s whispered protest, walking fast until they’re finally inside the library where he’s sure no one will see nor hear them.

He pushes the door closed, and takes one deep breath before turning around to face Hongjoong, who’s looking at him like he’s gone mad, his raised eyebrows and perplexed features delicately bathed by the moonlight, making him glow just like a warrior would.

“What is…” he tries to say, his sentence quickly cut short as Seonghwa grabs him by the arm and pushes him close.

He wants to say something, anything, anything to let him know how much he means to the future king, but words escape him when he sees Hongjoong so close, eyes wide and warmth seeping through his clothes, and all he can bring himself to do is kiss him.

They kiss slow, sweet, and gentle as they push the other closer, spellbound by the proximity and the feeling of their mouths pressed together, and as the kiss grows in intensity they only hold into each other tighter, not daring to let go.

They kiss like that for a long time before they have to pull away to breathe, though they only separate enough, still reluctant to let the other go.

“I’m sorry” Seonghwa breaks the silence first, “I’m sorry about all of this, I can see how upset you are about it and I promise you, Hongjoong, that I am too. I promise you that I’d never be able to feel for anyone else what I feel for you, you’ve taught me to feel, and for you I feel so much, you are and will always be my only one, you’ve shown me how warm I can feel despite I believed I would never really know what feeling in such a way –or feeling anyway at all– meant. I’m in love with you, Hongjoong, you’re the only one I ever want to be with.”

He can see Hongjoong’s eyes shining, and he hurries to press his thumbs underneath them, catching the tears as they roll down and wiping them away. Hongjoong hurries to hide his face on the older prince’s chest, leaving out a few whimpers before pulling away, he looks like he wants to cry some more but he’s holding himself together.

“I love you” Hongjoong confesses in a small voice, making joy and pain mix and dance around each other in Seonghwa’s heart as he continues to quietly sniff, thick drops of water running down his cheeks for the older to clean, “I wish things would be different, I wish we could be together”

Seonghwa knows the feeling, of course he does, there’s nothing he wishes more than to be able to be with Hongjoong without the constant reminder that their love is temporary, that they cannot be together for long, and right now there’s a royal ball with a lot of people happening just a few corridors down as a reminder of it.

“There’s nothing I’ve ever wished more than to run away” Seonghwa releases his second confession of the night in the form of a whisper, “this place has never been what I wanted, it has never felt like home, but I also didn’t know what could be waiting for me outside these walls, outside this kingdom that’s everything I ever knew, and I didn’t know if I would be able to find home anywhere else,” he pauses, looking at Hongjoong in the eyes and pressing one short kiss to his forehead before continuing, “now I know that there’s not a place I’ll be able to call home if you’re not with me, I wish we could get away from all of this and just be together.”

Hongjoong sighs, pushing Seonghwa down by the neck to press a kiss to his lips, lingering for a second too long.

“I wish too, love” Hongjoong says, pressing yet another kiss to his lips, “I wish everything would be different, I wish we could be together.”

Seonghwa doesn’t voice it, but he’s certain Hongjoong knows he’d give everything up to be with him, because he’s everything Seonghwa’s ever cared about anyway.

The night they escape it’s colder and darker than any other.

They’re crazy, they know they must be to attempt something like this, but neither of them can bring themselves to care, not when the prospect of being together without having to worry about their royal duties is so close they can already feel it brushing their fingertips as they lean forwards to try to grasp it.

Seonghwa silently turns a table upside down and places it down on the floor, right besides the bed where Hongjoong is destroying the sheets, they’ve been carefully planning this for the past two weeks and they sincerely hope it works out, Seonghwa’s quarters are already completely ruined and now they focus on Hongjoong’s own, drawing the curtains well closed while they throw everything around and make sure to take anything that seems like it’d have some value in the black market.

The intention is to make it seems like both a robbery and a crime of hate against monarchy, so the way everything is thrown around, and the bed sheets are reduced to shreds with a pocket knife as what seems to be blood stains them, is more than just necessary. Everything is carefully calculated to look genuine and not a simple act of two stupid, inexperienced princes who just crave their freedom like a dehydrated man craves water.

The final touch is a piece of paper thrown over the mess that’s the bed, it reads “the princes are dead” in a handwriting that makes Seonghwa wrinkle his nose, written in “blood” –honestly, Hongjoong’s art skills deserve to be praised so much. Seonghwa, as a future king, has also been studying and engaging in the practice of art ever since he was a child, but he doesn’t think he could’ve made everything look as real as Hongjoong himself, creating blood out of red fruits, water and paint, and distorting his handwriting in a way that seems like someone entirely different did it, he’s truly amazing.

They stand for a second by the door to admire their opus, Hongjoong’s quarters are just as destroyed as Seonghwa’s, everything thrown around and messy, the necklace his brother had given him carefully tucked under the bed as if he had dropped it in the fight, broken, and his things thrown around in a haphazard mess that exhibits brutality.

They look at each other, marveled with what they had done, realizing that having made it this far means there’s no turn back, if they got caught outside their quarters or while they were running away then there would be no way to hide their true intentions, and the thought only makes the adrenaline run wilder through their veins.

They lean into each other and kiss, a messy, hard and adrenaline ridden press of lips as they push the other closer, feeling like they’ve already succeeded despite having a long way to go still. They part for a minute, kissing one, two more times before turning around to start the hardest part of their plan.

They’re careful to move between the shadows as they try to make their way out, using the door in the empty kitchen to escape, their coats heavy over their shoulders, hoods pulled so down they can barely see as they rush outside.

The world comes crashing down for them just a while after.

Once in the garden Hongjoong pulls Seonghwa down quickly, all but knocking him against the ground, he’s about to ask why but then he hears it, voices coming from a close proximity, and he freezes.

It sounds like a conversation that they aren’t meant to be hearing, promises of undying love being exchanged between who probably are a servant and a guard. They try to stay as still and silent as they can, but the conversation doesn’t seem like it’ll die down any time soon, and the longest they stay in the same place the less their chances to actually make it out of the castle will be, so Seonghwa signals Hongjoong to follow him and they begin crawling through the dirt to get away from the couple.

“Did you hear that?” the man says, making the princes stop dead in their track.

“No, what was it?”

“It was a weird sound, around the weeds.”

“Probably some animal, we’re in the gardens after all” the woman answers.

They breathe again when they hear the man laugh, saying that she’s right and that he’s just paranoid because he left his spot uncovered, the princes share a knowing look, silently thanking the stars that aligned to let them be together as they continue to crawl away until they’re far enough that they can stand and start to run.

Hongjoong holds his hand strongly as they both run away, small giggles escaping them both as they get further and further away from the golden cage that has been holding them since before they were even born, but the euphoria of being free is short lived, though, because there are guards in the woods surrounding the castle as well, as is usual due the hour, and they are not being careful enough that they can’t be heard, so naturally, someone hears them.

“Who’s there?” a man yells, the princes can see the three guard in their horses near them as they hide each behind a different tree, they’re looking around, swords already in hand and ready for a combat.

Seonghwa looks at him, gestures that they should wait until the men go away, there are rumours that spirits haunt this forest, and the guards would not last long before deciding that maybe some poor tortured soul was what they heard, and Hongjoong knows this because Seonghwa told him before. However, the younger prince is not patient enough, and in a move that could get them both killed grabs the biggest rock he can find around and throws it in the opposite direction to where they are.

Seonghwa sees the way the necks of the guards snap to a side, feels his heart sink and stays very still when one of them looks at where they are barely hidden between the trees and the shadows, and releases a shaky breathe when they start quickly moving to where the rock landed.

Hongjoong smiles widely at him, silently laughing when he feels Seonghwa’s hand shake a little on his own when he goes to grab it, to pull him so he continues walking once again.

It doesn’t take long before they’re finally arriving at the place they had left their simple caravan on. It had not been easy to get, they went out undercover several times until they found one that’d be useful for them, one of the Romani people had been trading his own home for gold –a lot more than it was probably worth–, and they didn’t hesitate to take the chance.

The caravan is packed with food and common clothes, nothing like the silk and satin they are so used to, and it is big enough that they can live in it, various thick blankets and pillows already accommodated on the floor to resemble a bed.

They laugh quietly, embrace each other in a bone-crushing hug, and stay like that for a while before hurriedly hopping in and making the horses run, rapidly making their way out of Seonghwa’s personal ice prison, and setting them both free.

It takes a week before they’re finally out of Galanthus’ territory, finally away from the life they so desperately craved to leave behind. The rumours have spread, too, that the prince of Galanthus was dead, murdered along with the prince of the west Kingdom, and his heart fills with fear when he hears a woman talk about his father’s wrath, how he ordered the army to seek around the entire nation and find whoever did it. If his father found out they were alive, if he found out they actually escaped, they probably wouldn’t live through it.

Hongjoong assures him that no one will find them; he decides to do some changes anyway, because one is never too careful, so he cuts his own hair and then does the same for Seonghwa, pouring over his head some sort of cream that burns a lot. He repeats the process a few times until Seonghwa’s hair is pale and he’s satisfied with it.

He feels like a whole different person like this. It’s strange, like ridding himself of the cold prince and being his very own person, a person he still needs to get to know better… he’s amazed with how different his reflection in the mirror is for a few moments before looking up at Hongjoong.

The younger is looking at him with big, shiny eyes, he seems amazed himself, small disbelieving smile placed on his lips while he looks at Seonghwa without so much as blinking.

“You look beautiful” He says, making warmth flood the older prince’s chest, so much it becomes overwhelming, “I love it, love you.”

Seonghwa smiles, unable to stop himself and pushing Hongjoong close, kissing him until they’re both breathless, bursting with freedom induced happiness.

Loving Hongjoong freely is like being stuck in an endless daydream.

Now that they’re finally free and away from the confines of their golden cage they don’t need to hide anymore, having their own little space to rest. They can hold each other while they sleep, they can go anywhere, and they can do anything they please.

They don’t move as much as they should, though, simply because it’s not what they want to do.

In each new village of each new kingdom they stay for as long as they can, so long that people actually get to know and recognize them. They know it’s dangerous to say the least, but if they’re to live this life they might as well do it to the fullest, they ran away not to hide, and they don’t plan to do it now that they’re finally free.

“Seonghwa” Hongjoong calls from outside the caravan, Seonghwa can hear the kids laughing and he figures Hongjoong is, one more time, reading them stories or teaching them how to paint, “Seonghwa wake up, the kids are here.”

Hongjoong’s head peaks in through the small open window just as Seonghwa lifts his head, he can see his own hair falling over his face even when his eyes are barely open, the morning light too bright for him them to take. The younger giggles cutely, reaching a hand into the caravan to –with difficulty, due to how far they are– brush Seonghwa’s bangs out of his face.

“I need to cut your hair again” Hongjoong whispers, he sounds so fond Seonghwa can’t help but smile, “come out quickly, the kids are impatient.”

It’s one of their hobbies: entertaining the kids of the village they currently inhabit.

It had started on a silly way, they were just selling some vegetables in the village, Seonghwa was sitting at the caravan’s stairs reading a book, completely focused, when a kid came over and asked if he could read, then asked Seonghwa to do it out loud. A kid had been followed by another and another until Seonghwa had a whole audience of infants paying careful attention to his every word, and Hongjoong standing behind him, quietly smiling and cooing whenever Seonghwa interacted with any of them.

It hadn’t ended there, seemingly a magnet for children, the kids followed Seonghwa around every time they got a glimpse of his pale hair moving around the village, until one of them found the caravan resting at the entrance of the woods, and now they had visitors almost every morning, demanding Seonghwa to read, or Hongjoong to teach them anything about art.

It’s nice really (and he can’t bring himself to say it’s not), to have the kids around, their innocent laughs and questions, the way they seem to get attached to the couple so easily, regularly delivering small gifts –flowers, rocks, sticks in funny shapes– and loving words. It’d be a lie to say Seonghwa doesn’t enjoy to hear the way Hongjoong talks softly to them, or admire the delicate way he holds their hands as he helps them moving his brushes over the canvas; it fills the older with a peaceful feeling to know they’re now carefree enough that they can spend the whole day playing around with a bunch of kids together, laughing and running around.

Loving Hongjoong can also be burning hot.

In the quiet of the night, when there’s no one but them around, the younger leaves hot lines wherever he touches, the proximity between their bodies making the raging fire grow wilder and wilder inside of Seonghwa in a way he never even imagined was possible, a fire only Hongjoong can put out with his touches, his words, his pliant body. Their noisy love song making them both eager to take and give, with only the little decorations of their home and the silence of the night to witness their love.

It’s the happiest and most peaceful Seonghwa has ever felt, his icy heart melting every day more, slowly making way for something softer, warmer, that fills Seonghwa with an incredible amount of joy that he –having not felt much in the past– never thought he’d be capable of experiencing.

They visit many places, mostly border villages, and Seonghwa meets the seasons.

The soft winters from other kingdoms, which seem to bath everything in a delicate white that isn’t quite equal or as immaculate as Galanthus’, but still hit his chest with familiarity, the weather only cold enough that Hongjoong doesn’t have to wear as many layers of clothing as he did before they left, not so cold that it doesn’t fill Seonghwa with discomfort.

The beautiful colours of autumn, dancing around the trees as the delicate and slightly chilly wind plays with the leaves falling from them. The way it’s only cold enough for it to be comfortable most of the time. The way these colours match so well with Hongjoong’s smile, his laugh mixing with the sound of the pile of leaves being crushed underneath his weight as Seonghwa messes his hair and kisses him cheeks, and even though the wind is blowing hard and a storm seems to be approaching, they both feel so warm it can’t bother them.

The sweet scent of spring, which fills everything with an endearing feeling of youth, making their love feel stronger, sweeter, as Seonghwa places flowers behind Hongjoong’s ears and tells him how beautiful he is, and the younger’s cheeks bloom the colour of the cherry blossom he’s standing under as he smiles so wide his eyes disappear. Their arms wrapped around each other in the most comfortable manner, as the bright colours of the flowers enfold them in the feeling of endless happiness, promising only more love and good things to come.

The harsh heat of summer, which Seonghwa feared the most.

Naturally: it’s too good to be true. No one ever recognizes them, no one ever says anything about their travelling situation, no one ever asks questions. Nothing seems to go wrong, until Hongjoong finds out what is it that does.

It had not been on purpose that they had avoided summer, if anything it could be considered an accident. They kept moving and moving between villages for over a year, not really paying any mind to the season said villages were going through, they just moved around the borders and avoided going too further into a kingdom, because the closer to the King’s house they got the more the villagers would know about the world of monarchy, and they weren’t willing to take that risk.

Right now, though, they’re living the summer together for the first time. The kingdom they’re in –Hongjoong doesn’t know the name of it– has never been through a winter before, and the hottest time of the year is almost unbearable for people from other kingdoms according to what the old woman in the market had told them, to summarize: the complete opposite of Galanthus.

Seonghwa had only slightly complained about the heat increasing as they made their way closer and closer to this land, the hard contrast with what he was so used to (but has never missed), and Hongjoong had only laughed it off, calling him weak for not being able to take a few degrees more than the spring they had just left behind in the other kingdom before finding their way to this one.

The younger regrets it two days later, though, when Seonghwa wakes up in the middle of the night delirious and with a fever so high it makes it seem like he’s burning up, mumbling things Hongjoong can’t quite comprehend that manage to alarm him like nothing else ever could.

It’s a constant state of panic from then on, Hongjoong does the best he can to take care of him, but he feels like his efforts are lacking when after two days more Seonghwa doesn’t get better, if anything he gets worse.

He feels the pressure over himself, the restless feeling of nervousness that won’t let him close an eye at any time in fear of what may happen, of what Seonghwa may need while he’s unconscious.

He forces himself to leave Seonghwa alone in the caravan for a few hours while he heads to the market though, they’ve ran out of anything at all, and he needs to gather the essentials to continue taking care of the crown prince.

“You look in a hurry” Someone says when he’s walking around looking for medical herbs, making him jump.

It turns out to be the same old woman who they met during their first day here, her eyes turning soft as soon as Hongjoong turns around and she can see the tired lines of his face.

“My friend, he’s sick” he says, trying to cut the conversation short so he can go back quickly.

However, the old lady offers her help, and follows him around the market and back to the caravan as fast as she can, the oldest prince waiting for them, eyes closed and  body damped in sweat.

The woman touches around his chest and feels his temperature, she also prepares a weird kind of slipslop she assures will help with his fever, and proceeds to ask Hongjoong a bunch of things about him so she can be sure of what is it that he has.

“He’s from Galanthus” Hongjoong answers the woman’s latest question, frowning at the way Seonghwa keeps squirming in his place, covered in blankets.

A sound leaves her, and when the younger prince averts his eyes from his lover to the woman, the look she’s giving him is totally scandalized, like he just said the craziest thing she’s ever heard. There’s dread in her features, and it’s contagious enough to fill Hongjoong’s heart.

“He’s dying” she says firmly, her voice low and serious, making Hongjoong’s whole world crumble as he stops breathing, the dread growing so much it becomes panic, keeping him immobile, “People from the cold kingdom can only live in the extreme cold, temperatures normal for us can take the life of one of them. You have to take him back if you want him to live.”

It’s only after the woman leaves the both of them alone again that Hongjoong allows himself to break down, crying his heart out in painful desperation. He should’ve noticed before, he should’ve noticed the way Seonghwa kept getting sick ever since they left, and every time they were out of the winter, how he kept coughing and feeling exhausted no matter where they were, how his endurance wasn’t the same. He should’ve noticed, he should’ve never let it come to this.

But here he is, crying in the floor of the caravan they now call their home, shaking out of fear as thick tears escape from his eyes while he sees the person he loves go through what could be the last moments of his life.

He crawls near Seonghwa, delicately placing his head against the other’s chest, now that he knows the heat is causing this, there are no blankets at all covering him, so the right side of Hongjoong’s face is met with damp clothes.

“I’m sorry, love” Hongjoong whispers, rubbing Seonghwa’s abdomen in circles, “I’m sorry I let it come to this”

He knows he shouldn’t blame himself, but he can’t help it, some part of him feels as responsible for this as one can be, and it just makes his chest feel heavier and heavier with every passing minute.

Seonghwa mumbles something then, something that sounds suspiciously like Hongjoong’s name. It’s not the first time he’s done it, he’s said many things that sound like many other things in the past couple of days, but it makes the younger’s heart clench for no reason.

“Tell me, Seonghwa, did you know?” he asks, not giving a single damn about the other being delirious and probably unable to understand what was surrounding him, “did you know this would happen when summer came?”

There’s a pause, of course, Hongjoong is not really expecting Seonghwa to answer anyway.

“Joong” Seonghwa mumbles again, the younger moves a hand through his hair, “Knew”

Hongjoong freezes on his spot, hand still in the other’s hair.

“Seonghwa?” he says, moving the other’s head softly so their eyes meet, even though the elder’s are barely open.

“I... knew” Seonghwa mumbles again, a hand making its way to where Hongjoong’s is over his chest and wrapping around the younger prince’s wrist weakly.

“You knew?” Hongjoong asks, incredulous, “If you knew then why did you let me do this? Why did you agree to any of this? Why would you be so stupid to put your whole life at risk? You idiot, you have no idea how scared I am” Hongjoong rants, only lightly hitting the other’s chest while new tears stream down his cheeks and into Seonghwa’s already wet shirt.

“You” Seonghwa starts, the way he speaks is painful to hear, too slow and weak, “Wanted this. Wanted to be with you. I don’t care if I have to die, I just want to be with you.”

Hongjoong cries harder over his chest some more, Seonghwa lets him, too weak to even form the tears he would surely shed had the situation been different.

Ever since he was a child Seonghwa had always known, he was warned about the consequences that came from warmth, had been warned how deadly it could be. His parents as well as everyone around him had done the best they could to keep him away from just the concept of it, to make him fear it, and for a while –even though he was curious– it worked. He was curious, but afraid of it. He wanted to, but he’d have never really gotten too close to it.

And then he met Hongjoong, who with his touches and loving words showed him that warmth can be pleasant and comfortable too, that warmth doesn’t only hurt, that warmth can bring joy. So he kept it a secret from him, the consequences that warmth could bring to him, kept discreetly moving around villages that wouldn’t affect him so much, and he didn’t regret a second of it.

Even now, as he lies delirious on the mat with Hongjoong crying over his chest, he doesn’t regret any of this, doesn’t regret the memories he made with Hongjoong, wouldn’t regret to die if he does it besides the person he loves the most.

He just wanted to be with Hongjoong, wanted to live precious moments with him. He just wanted to be free.

Seonghwa might be delirious with fever, but he seems pretty okay as he keeps begging Hongjoong to stop while the younger sets the course back to Galanthus, claiming that no matter what he says, he can’t just let Seonghwa die.

“Hongjoong” the older whines while the other feeds him, it’s late at night and they’re only one day into the travel, but they’ve crossed a good distance despite all, thanks to the younger’s frenzied pace, “Hongjoong” he whines again.

“I’m here, right next to you” he answers softly, pulling Seonghwa’s damp bangs out of his face and kissing his cheek.

“Don’t” Seonghwa says, his eyes are closed and he looks like he’s trying very hard to stay conscious, “Don’t do it, don’t take me there.”

“I’m sorry, love” Hongjoong says, his stomach twisting in guilt, “we have to go back, we have to.”

“We don’t, don’t do it” he whines, he looks like he wants to say more, but he sounds so exhausted that after a few beats Hongjoong supposes he’s just given up.

“And what am I supposed to do, Seonghwa? Let you die?” he snaps, fury boiling inside him, “Do you expect me to sit here and let you just... die?” his voice breaks, there are tears threatening to fall again, and he doesn’t bother in holding them back.

Seonghwa mumbles something, but it’s incomprehensible and doesn’t make any sense.

“It’s so selfish from you to believe I can just let you die. What would be of me then Your Highness? Have you thought of that? Of how lonely I’ll be? Of how guilty and miserable I’ll feel knowing that I could’ve saved you? Of how empty my life would feel without you?” Hongjoong says in a breath, a lot harder that he intended, “Don’t be so selfish, even if that’s what you want, I could never let you die.”

After that night Seonghwa remains silent, aside from the occasional delusional conversations he keeps with himself, that never seem to make any sense, his health apparently getting worse with each passing second he’s away from his land. It makes Hongjoong’s heart ache, he never intended to snap like that, but there’s only so much he can take, especially with the amount of love he holds for this man.

It takes a little over a week until they’re finally crossing Galanthus’ lands, Seonghwa’s been too far gone for a while now, but the knowledge that they’re now in a place he can start getting better eases Hongjoong’s anxious heart, at least a bit.

He settles their caravan at the border, far from any village where Seonghwa or even himself could easily be recognized, and waits patiently for his lover to heal.

It’s a slow process, bits of progress accomplished each day Seonghwa remains in the freezing cold, first he opens his eyes, regains consciousness, and it goes on until finally, six days later, he’s able to stand on his own even though his legs are wobbly. It’s more than just a relief, it’s like Hongjoong has been forced to hold his breath this whole time, unable to inhale any oxygen until he was sure Seonghwa was feeling better.

Of course, there’s an elephant in the room, but Hongjoong does his best to ignore it at least until he thinks Seonghwa has healed enough, until he looks and feels okay, to talk about it. It’s a subject that will hurt them both, but it needs to be brought up at some point, and so Hongjoong does, on one night after they’ve finished dinner and are lying together, limbs tangled.

“I think you should stay” the younger whispers, so filled with dread that he doubts the feeling could ever be put on words, his whole body buzzing.

Seonghwa freezes, his hand falls from where it had been caressing Hongjoong’s hair and his shoulders become rigid.

“What do you mean?” he says, his tone cold like how it used to be, when he was resigned to take over the throne and become the ice king the nation wanted, is like an arrow straight at Hongjoong’s heart.

He lifts himself off the mat enough to look at Seonghwa in the eyes, he looks troubled and hurt, and it’s killing Hongjoong to know it’s all caused because of him.

“I think you should stay here, go back to the castle” he says, his voice wavering and body slightly shaking. He looks at Seonghwa’s chest then, unable to meet his eyes.

“Do you mean this?” the crown prince asks him after a long pause, he sounds so hurt, Hongjoong feels like crying, “Do you really think I can just go back to how my life used to be after we’ve been through so much together? Does it mean that little to you?”

It’s a shock when Seonghwa suddenly stands, topping over Hongjoong’s figure still lying down, he doesn’t look angry, but he does look devastated if the tears that are running down his face are anything to go by.

Hongjoong stutters something, sitting himself up and reaching his arms out to make Seonghwa sit down again, but the other doesn’t plan to do that at all.

“Is it because you got tired of me? Have I not loved you enough?” Seonghwa says, it’s almost hard to understand what he’s saying with how hard he’s crying, and Hongjoong doesn’t realize when he starts to cry as well.

“It’s not-”

“I’ve given you my everything, has that not been enough? Is that why you want to leave me here now?” Seonghwa continues, his voice never sounding accusatory but purely broken, panicked.

“Seonghwa listen to me, listen” Hongjoong insists, pulling him down by his hands until he’s kneeling on the floor, then pushing him forwards until he makes his way back on the mat and over the bedding, still on his knees. Hongjoong lifts himself up to be as close to his eyes as he can be, “Listen to me love, I swear is nothing of that”

“Then why?” Seonghwa chokes, crying louder with each passing second, “Why do you want to leave me?”

“What makes you think I want to leave you?” Hongjoong starts, “I wish it was different, but there is no other way, you can’t live outside this place, and our faces are known enough here that we’d never be able to hide here.”

“I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to stay, I hate this place” Seonghwa says, harshly tearing his hands away from Hongjoong’s and using his fists to clean his tears with more force than necessary.

“Seonghwa, think straight, your life depends on this” Hongjoong screams, jumping to his feet in exasperation, “If we leave, you won’t make it.”

“I don’t care if I make it” Seonghwa yells back, still on his knees with his fists firmly pressed against his eyes, “I don’t care Hongjoong, I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to go back to my old life. That life just made me miserable, there isn’t a single moment from that time that I can call happy, there’s only emptiness and cold. I hate cold. All I want is to be happy, to be with you.”

Hongjoong breathes out through his nose hardly, stressed out.

“I know you idiot, but we can’t, you have to stay, it’s necessary Seonghwa, you have to understand” Hongjoong says, hard and fast.

The older stays quiet for a minute, his hands never leaving his eyes and his shoulders shaking wildly with quiet sobs, much like Hongjoong’s own.

“Do you not love me anymore?” he asks then, softly, his hands falling to his heart, as if the sole thought hurt enough for him to feel like he has to hold it.

Hongjoong falls to his knees in front of him, a low wail leaving him at the sight of Seonghwa’s heartbroken expression, as if he’s expecting the younger to say he doesn’t. Maybe, it would be less painful for both of them if he didn’t.

“It’s because I love you every day a little more that I don’t want you to die, I could never handle losing you in such a permanent way” he says, his hand making its way to the back of Seonghwa’s neck as the older lets his forehead rest against Hongjoong’s shoulder, loud sobs leaving him, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

He really is, but he’ll do whatever assures the safety of the one person he loves the most. If that means letting go forever then so be it, he’ll take whatever pain crosses his way to see Seonghwa be fine, and he hopes the older can be strong for him too, even though it might be a little selfish to expect so much from him.

It is a nightmare and painful but they spend the few days guessing a way to get Seonghwa back into his old life without it being apparent that he was never kidnapped to begin with. There aren’t many believable options, so obviously, they take the easiest one.

“Just do it quickly” Seonghwa says, squishing his eyes shut, his hair falling over one side of his head only since Hongjoong made sure to cut it in an ugly way.

“I can’t do it” Hongjoong whispers, as if he’s in pain.

“This was your damn idea, just hit me already” Seonghwa snaps, opening his eyes to stare at him angrily.

The current plan consisted in getting each other very hurt, hurt enough that their parents would believe this whole time they had been under torture. Luckily enough they had a few scars here and there courtesy of their adventures, and as if heaven knew this day would come, Seonghwa has more than Hongjoong himself –mostly because he is overprotective, and always insisted on doing the risky things to protect the younger prince–, which could pass as their kidnappers being specially brutal to him given he was supposed to take the crown.

Hongjoong looks at him with big, hurt, scared eyes, he’s holding a piece of branch big enough that would surely hurt Seonghwa a lot –they were honestly expecting blood and ripped out skin, to make it even more believable.

“I can’t Seonghwa, I can’t hit you” He says, sounding desperate.

Seonghwa sighs, rubbing his temples.

“It’s okay, I’ll do it on my own.”

It’s a lot more work to do it all alone, hurting himself like that, hitting his own body against trees and pointy objects until he’s sure he’ll be bruised all over. Asking Hongjoong to do it for him was too much as well, he realizes, he’d never be able to hurt Hongjoong, so asking him to hurt the crown prince was definitely crossing a line.

When he’s done hurting himself he’s so exhausted he can’t help but fall on his side, colliding against the snow-covered floor, the snowflakes melting and getting his clothes wet.

There’s a second where everything is still, then he feels fingers running through his hair gently, a thumb running over the side of his mouth where blood is seeping out of. When he opens his eyes Hongjoong looks like he’s about to cry, but he keeps himself strong, eyes dry.

“I guess I’m next” he says after a few seconds of looking at Seonghwa with a painful expression, his finger touching lightly where the older prince’s right eye starts to get swollen.

“You can do it when you get home” Seonghwa says; ’don’t hurt yourself in front of me’ he tries to transmit. Hongjoong shakes his head.

“Our wounds need to be consistent, it wouldn’t make sense if mine are fresher than yours even though we supposedly escaped at the same time” he explains, and Seonghwa hates that he’s right.

He hides himself in the caravan while Hongjoong gets to work, ignoring the dull sounds from outside and his own pained sounds at the strongest ones in favour of destroying the dirty clothes he’s wearing, making sure to leave various cuts over his body, all of different depth.

Everything is hasty and blurry from then on, making their way as close to the castle as they could, avoiding knights who were seemingly patrolling, all the way until Seonghwa is getting off the caravan, his whole body shaking with nervousness to come back and the pain that came with parting ways from Hongjoong, his eyes already wet with tears as he held back the sob threatening to break through him.

Hongjoong stands in front of him for a few minutes, just looking up into his dark eyes with his own, his expression one of absolute heartbreak. Seonghwa figures he must not look very different.

They hold each other tight, kiss each other goodbye, and part without sharing one more word. Everything that needed to be said had been said before, and sharing words now would be not only useless but meaningless.

Seonghwa stumbles his way to the castle, he knows he’s at least a few hours away by foot, the wound at his rib is bothering him the most, it’s by far the deepest and he’d only be able to do it driven by the anger this whole situation put over him, he only hopes he’ll bleed to death before making it to the castle.

Sadly enough life has never been that kind to Seonghwa, so even though he’s in the border of blacking out he’s still conscious when he makes it to the gardens, the guards pulling out their swords and yelling at him to tell them who he was before recognizing him.

One of them runs to hold him just as Seonghwa’s about to fall on his face, screaming things he can’t quite comprehend, his vision starts to get filled with black dots due the loss of blood, he’s feeling himself drifting away.

Please, I don’t want to wake up anymore.

There’s a light, a light far too bright, so much that it hurts, but it’s not the kind of light he wanted to see.

When he opens his eyes the ceiling greets him almost mockingly, as if saying ‘weren’t you going to escape, pretentious prince?’ And Seonghwa frowns at it. He looks around for a while before realizing he’s been settled into his old room, which looks completely different –probably because it was remodeled after him and Hongjoong wrecked it mercilessly–, the only thing giving it away being the sight outside the window, too familiar to be confused.

He tries to stand up, but he’s hurting all over due his own ministrations and he whines as he tries to move.

It’s immediate: the door bursts open and several people make their way inside, startling him so much he can’t help but flinch away –he doesn’t miss the way the guards look at him, as the crown prince of a cold nation Seonghwa wasn’t expected to react in any way, but he really jumped back at the sound of the door being opened.

Cold voices welcome him back to his nation as even colder hands touch all over his –oh god, he’s naked– body, examining his wounds. He wills down the blush he knows is threatening to bloom on his cheeks, the newly acquired ability one he’s certain won’t be well seen in his old home, and forces himself to stay still, face expressionless.

It feels so difficult, so different, it’s been over a year since he’s had to act this way, since he’s been surrounded by this kind of cold. His heart aches, but he ignores it.

“I think the most severe wounds are on the inside” the doctor says, looking and touching all over, “My prince, did they have you in a cold enough place?”

Seonghwa pauses, swallows, giving himself a second to rehearse an explanatory speech before he allows himself to talk, slowly and measured, making sure his voice doesn’t break.

“Summer” it’s all that goes out in the end, the words getting caught up on his throat when the image of Hongjoong’s worried face comes and hits him again. At least he doesn’t sound like he’s about to cry.

There are gasps, many of them, and hushed words Seonghwa doesn’t catch up on as he tries to will the pain away from his chest before he actually sheds tears.

“His Majesty wishes to see you, my prince” one of the servants says, she doesn’t lift her eyes off the floor to meet Seonghwa’s even as she gets near his bed and stands next to him.

He looks at the doctor, like asking for permission, and the man’s expression doesn’t change from his cold façade.

“You’ve been unconscious for five days, I think that’s long enough for you to be able to go meet the King. As long as you don’t force your body too much I assure you, Your Highness, you will get better”

It’s all it takes for Seonghwa to be lifted off the bed and helped into his clothes, with a lot more care than it was usual, the servants help Seonghwa get ready to meet his father and (presumably) his mother. He needs to be helped into the grand hall too, where his parents wait for him, egocentric aura seemingly intensified by all the time they’ve been apart.

As soon as they turn around to face him their expressions shift, and Seonghwa thinks it’s the first time he’s ever seen anything in his parents’ faces other than disinterest. It’s not joy, but they do seem very shocked and scandalized, and that is a lot.

The knight that had been helping him to walk –as if he can’t do it on his own, maybe it hurts, but he’s not gonna die from it– helps him sitting down in front of them and moves out of the room after a deep bow.

His parents take a second to break out of their amazed state, his father coughing before his expression falls back into the usual coldness that is familiar to Seonghwa.

“Son” he starts, “We thought we’d never see you again.”

And I was hoping so, but things didn’t go as planned.

There are other people in the room, people Seonghwa has never set eyes upon in his whole life, and they, alongside his parents, try to interrogate him about the bandits that kept him hostage for so long. He insists he can’t remember much, and spits out the made up stories that he and Hongjoong had come up with, how they had been tortured until they passed out, how they didn’t even see each other since they arrived to somewhere dark, so dark there was barely any sunlight, with a smell like death itself and filled with the sound of screams and cries of desperation.

His mother touches his hair, almost like it’s something disgusting to touch, and maybe it kind of is –Hongjoong did his best to make it look terrible before they parted, haphazardly cutting it off, and burning the ends of some strands carefully.

“What did they do to you?” she asks, frowning to no one in particular.

They see his hair like dishonour, he noticed from the moment he woke up and everyone who walked into the room stared at it with deep frowns, they say the captors did it to strip him from his identity, to strip him from his immaculate superiority as one of pure blood, and he lets them believe so. He’d never admit to them that more than that, it gave him an identity of his own, making him feel secure with his own self.

They assure it’ll grow back into how it used to be, Seonghwa suppresses the annoyance he feels at that.

Apparently, Seonghwa’s cousin has taken the throne already as Galanthus’ new king, since they thought Seonghwa was dead, but his father assures that he, as the legitimate leader of the nation, must take his place as the king and lead his people now that he’s back. He declines (to which his father isn’t happy at all), using his time captive as an excuse, saying that he couldn’t after everything he lived. His father doesn’t take a word, and insists he must take his rightful place on the throne.

His opinion changes rather quickly, though, after Hongjoong’s name is mentioned.

The councillors ask about Hongjoong, they ask where he is, if he escaped too.

It’s a punch to his gut, he doesn’t know where Hongjoong is, but he can only pray he’s okay, he can only pray his parents will believe his lies about what happen –and god is Hongjoong a terrible liar, he’ll need the prayers a lot–, he prays he won’t hurt himself enough to actually end his life.

Seonghwa breathes in deeply, trying to calm himself down, but he can’t help the tears that roll down his face as he lies and tells them he doesn’t know where Hongjoong is, tell them they escaped together but parted ways as soon as they were out of the carriage that was taking them to a new destination, and his words become especially broken when he mentions how hurt he was. He feels pathetic, breaking down and crying miserably, shamefully, but he can’t help himself as the pain in his heart overtakes everything.

His father sees the weakness through his tears, the bad state of mind in which Seonghwa is, enough to make him sob like a child, before finally agreeing that Seonghwa couldn’t lead a nation anymore, the damage of torture being too much for his young mind to manage, and he decides to just let the new king lead Galanthus instead.

It’s quiet for a while then, and all Seonghwa does is staying in his quarters and cry, mourning the loss of the only love he’s ever met, the only warmth he’s ever been close to and can’t help but crave. When the night is specially dark and his heart is specially heavy, he thinks he can still feel Hongjoong’s arms around him, pulling him close while they sleep, but then he wakes up to an empty bed in a cold kingdom, and cries until his eyes hurt and he’s so tired that he can’t help but falling back asleep.

He doesn’t greet the new King, he doesn’t eat with the rest –he barely eats at all anyway–, and though in most cases that’d be deserving of an execution, the new King lets it slide. He’s heard the gossip about how Seonghwa, the great crown prince, cried his heart out after having returned, and decided to give him freedom to do as he pleases, affirming that he’ll leave the room when he’s ready.

Seonghwa is thankful, not to his cousin, but to the whole situation, to the fact that feelings are such a foreign thing in this nation that showing them grants you special treatment from even the King himself, letting slide offences that under any other terms would have never been ignored.

It takes a week after Seonghwa’s breakdown for someone to come and tell them Hongjoong made it to his own home, gravely injured, but that he’s alive and that they’re sure he’ll live. Seonghwa ignores his father’s disgusted face and everyone else’s awe as he, once again, starts crying like an infant, relieved to know Hongjoong is safe and sound, to know that, even if not by his side, the younger will be able to live his life for however long more, and he forces himself to be happy over that fact, even as his heart breaks when it finally dawns on him that they’ll never see each other again.

Seonghwa looks at himself in the mirror and signs, running a hand through his silk shirt before finally pulling his jacket over it. He’s tired, not like he’s been doing much the whole day, but just the prospect of so much human interaction tires him to death.

It’s been a year since he came back, his hair has grown fully healthy and most of his scars have disappeared, leaving almost no evidence of what happened expect for the constant pain in his heart, the unforgiving memories, and the occasional dreams in which his past lover’s face shows up.

“Cousin, cheer up” The King says, patting him on the shoulder, “it’s an occasion to rejoice”

Seonghwa nods curtly and shifts his eyes from his cousin’s face to the queen, the baby in her arms sleeping soundly even though the chatter of people fills the grand hall, her small hands turned into fists as her mother keeps her pressed against her chest.

People from all kingdoms are here to welcome Galanthus’ princess to the world of monarchy, all bringing expensive gifts along with their best wishes, all congratulating the King for having became a father.

Seonghwa feels happy for his cousin too, of course, and he knows that, as someone who does mostly nothing all day, he’ll end up getting involved with the baby a lot, which makes him feel grateful that he’ll finally have something –something with a meaning– to do on his free time.

On the other hand, he just wants to go back to his quarters and sleep.

With more urging from the King, he ends up walking around the grand hall, looking for ‘someone to hold a conversation with, perhaps an acquaintance.’

Seonghwa scoffs, as if he knows someone at all aside from the members of their own family.

But just as he thinks this a hand closes around his wrist, a slight pull forcing Seonghwa to look back at the owner of said hand.

His breath hitches and his heart skips a beat at the sight of Hongjoong in front of him, his hair shorter than it used to be, his royal raiments hugging him nicely. He looks so beautiful, and his smile is so bright Seonghwa has troubles to control himself and avoid to kiss him right there.

They create some small talk, just so that for everyone else around it’d look like a normal conversation, like two friends that meet each other after a long time. He catches the King’s eyes at some point and the older nods at him approvingly, Seonghwa takes it as a cue to invite Hongjoong out of the grand hall.

 It feels so much like the old times, so much that the ghost of nostalgia makes its way into his chest, but he can’t pay much attention to it as he closes the door to his quarters and kisses Hongjoong breathless against it, showing him just how much he missed him.

It feels like heaven being able to kiss Hongjoong again after so long, to be able to have their bodies pressed together and play a symphony of love, to hold him close and feel his warmth wrap around him.

“Your father didn’t force you to take the throne” Hongjoong says later, he’s laying on top of Seonghwa, the covers draped over the both of them, Seonghwa’s hand sneaking out to play with his hair. He sounds happy, probably because he knows how much Seonghwa always hated the idea of ruling the nation, and it brings a smile to the older prince’s lips. He kisses Hongjoong’s forehead.

“He was going to, he wanted me to take the throne so bad, he said that it was my right and what I was raised for, he said that by doing so I’d not only show our people how strong I truly am, but that I’d also show my captors that what they did was fruitless” he explains, running his hand through Hongjoong’s shoulders and back, “but then they asked about you, and I couldn’t help myself. I tried not to cry but it was of no use. He said I was weak, that they broke me too much, and that I wasn’t capable of leading Galanthus anymore.”

Hongjoong kisses him then, it feels more like an apology than anything else, but Seonghwa doesn’t pay it much mind, marveling in the feeling of soft lips over his own. It’s not like there’s actually something he needs to be sorry for.

“My father blames himself for what happened, thinks that if he had just stopped me from coming things would’ve been different” he says, his voice is hushed but guiltiness drips from it so clearly Seonghwa can almost feel it hitting his skin, “they really believe we were kidnapped, it makes me feel terrible that I put them through so many bad emotions and at the same time I don’t really regret it. I would do it again, just to be with you.”

Seonghwa hums, unable to tear his eyes away from Hongjoong’s, they remain quiet for a little more before the younger speaks up again.

“Sometimes I have selfish thoughts” he says, “I wish we could’ve just ignored everything that happened and just… keep traveling, maybe between the coldest kingdoms, I don’t know, I just wish we wouldn’t have had to go back to our old lives.”

“It’s not selfish to want to be with the one you love” Seonghwa says, “I’ve had those thoughts too, I wish we could’ve just stayed together.”

“I wish things were different” Hongjoong whispers, there’s pain in his voice, and he buries his face in Seonghwa’s neck, but the older never feels the tears falling over his skin, “I wish we were able to just love each other.”

“Maybe in another life” Seonghwa reassures him, moving his hand up and down the younger’s naked back, “I promise I’ll still love you in another life.”

They stay tangled together for a long time, long enough that it’s dangerous, but Seonghwa pushes the thoughts of their parents looking for them away in favour of holding Hongjoong close, basking in the familiarity of it and the joy that fills his heart, and he doesn’t doubt for one second that even in another life he’d love Hongjoong just as much, if not even more.

Epilogue.

Seonghwa wakes up with a jolt. What a strange dream, all he can remember are traces of white… snow, snow everywhere, and a compilation of scenes that don’t make sense all together.

Snow, horses, a forest, a throne.

Seonghwa frowns, trying to remember more, but his mind seems to be clouded by white, snow falling rapidly, looking immaculate and way too pure to be actual, common snow.

Beside him Hongjoong moves, pulling him down by his elbow and successfully cutting off his train of thoughts, he glances at the clock by the bed before flopping down besides his boyfriend. It’s almost 4am, he can hear Gojo, their dog, moving around the apartment, something that sounds suspiciously like him getting on the couch.

“A bad dream?” Hongjoong asks once he’s lying down, his eyes are barely open, and he scoots closer to him on the bed, his body impossibly warm. Seonghwa can’t help but kiss his forehead, then his lips, because he just looks too cute.

“Not a bad dream” he answers, moving his hand up to brush the other’s bangs out of his face, Hongjoong makes a pleased noise, closing his eyes again, “just a strange one.”

He sighs, they can talk about it in the morning, he can tell Hongjoong the strange chill it gave him, like it’s a dream he’s had one too many times, as if he’s ever actually seem all of these things in real life. For now, he settles for trying to go back to sleep, pressing Hongjoong closer and burying his face in the younger’s hair, feeling delighted to have his warmth during the harsh winter.