Archive of Our Own

“Mm, your hair is getting long,” Soobin murmured.

“Is it?” Beomgyu stroked his dark locks restlessly, letting them furl and unfurl against his nape on his left shoulder. "At least Mother likes the length," he insisted.

“Stop that, you’ll mess it up.” His older brother swatted his hand away gently before resuming combing his long fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp with his rounded nails.

“If you hate the work, I’ll just get Jiwoo to do it,” Beomgyu jested, giving a tentative smile to the boy in the mirror; he was dressed to the nines for Mother’s birthday, the glitter on his eyelashes catching the light as they fluttered, making eye contact with Soobin as he took a lock and parted it, the tip of his red tongue peeking out the side of his lips.

“Impossible, hold still while I make you more beautiful than you already are.” Soobin reprimanded without much conviction, his eyes still concentrated on one spot of Beomgyu’s hair, the last to be straightened out before they return to court. Soobin himself had already been cleaned and dressed in his formal jacket and epaulettes, his aversion to personal helpers not deterring him in the least. His hair was in a more practical, cropped cut, to Beomgyu’s lamentation. But it served as a blaring reminder of the brothers’ different dispositions. Soobin was dressed for the military, Beomgyu’s crystal-inlaid crown on his vanity screamed pampered royalty.

Beomgyu hummed and straightened his shoulders, silent waves of satisfaction at his brother’s attention oozing out of the ruffles of the silk cravat that wrapped around his neck. He knew Soobin could never resist him nor his smooth, thick hair, always finding an excuse to card his hands through Beomgyu’s mane, uttering his reverence under his breath, just loud enough for the young crown prince to hear.

Beomgyu never denied him, always leaned into the touch with an unprincely purr bubbling in his throat. There were so few things for him to lean on, after all, and his older brother was the one by his side for the longest.

”Of course, I have been here since you were born, my heart. When I saw you, I knew I would love you for the rest of my life.”

”How would you know?” Beomgyu had retorted playfully at the twelve-year-old. He was then, a little younger than eleven, always eager to catch up to Soobin, who had already hit his growth spurt and crossed his long arms over each other, displeased with the insolence of his baby brother. “You’re barely older than me, anyhow. Life is longer than you think.”

“I just know.” Soobin said, his gaze dark and serious. He looked quite scary when he was serious, so different from the light joviality that split his face into a toothy smile. Beomgyu decided it was better to not joke about it anymore. As the years passed, he realized Soobin was becoming a more serious man, his face closing off when he became of age, and soon his entire body language assumed that of someone much older, someone who lent a copious amount of thought to his actions.

“Let me do it, I want to do your hair.” There was an edge of a whine to his voice, comical in juxtaposition with his ceremonial uniform and huge frame, wheedling and pleading with Beomgyu. It surprised him, but only pleasantly so. To have Soobin begging for him so openly, well, it didn’t hurt a man’s ego.

There was so little time for them as brothers these days, Beomgyu’s heart ached. If Soobin could be young for a moment, Beomgyu was happy to indulge him with body and mind.

While Soobin worked on his hair, the crown prince worried over the torn skin of his lips. Mother turned forty today. And because their birthdays were so close, in the cloaks of hushed winter, Beomgyu was well on his way to eighteen, and the crown on his head would be switched out for the even gaudier one his father wore. When Soobin balanced his crown on his head, Beomgyu could not resist tilting his chin up slightly to look at the older boy, desperation seeping through his large brown eyes.

But when Soobin asked him what was wrong, Beomgyu only clamped his lips closed, shivering a little in place as Soobin parted his own lips in a knowing sigh, brushing back a sliver of hair to plant a kiss on the younger's forehead.

"Can't you be king?" Was what he wanted to blurt out, but that would have been disastrous and Beomgyu the prince, at least, learned from a young age when to hold his tongue, when to keep his emotions just simmering under the surface. Being the younger brother was his luxury, he should do at least the bare minimum to protect his older brother from his own childish thoughts.

He knew full well, they all knew full well, that Soobin could never be king. Regardless of his shining records and winning diplomatic smiles, Soobin was curbed and pruned through no fault of his own, and that was perhaps the cruelest flair of them all. Beomgyu's mother turned forty today. Soobin's mother was a rotted, dumped carcass in the sprawling back garden in an unmarked grave. The two women, sisters from the Old Kingdom which had long since been pilfered and enslaved, fell to vastly different fates under the king's hand.

Illegitimate. Can you imagine being born into that sort of existence? Can you imagine being delivered, all the nurses and midwives tight-faced, flitting about frantically to find your father, who was off romping with a woman you can't hate, because she has your mother's face?

"Come now, they must be waiting," Soobin smiled wanly, a hand on the small of Beomgyu's back as the princes traversed the halls, marveling at the decorations, frosty and glittering just how the queen liked them.

Still, Beomgyu thought miserably, his brilliant older brother may be well-suited to the crown. He thought about it only because he wanted freedom, not because he truly wished to concede the crown itself. Soobin was a strategist, someone who neatly grouped citizens and resources into assets to be redirected and ordered around, who could rule with an iron hand because numbers never lie. He had to, he grew up that way.

And Beomgyu’s disposition was clear as day; his steps were veering as he thought, fingers combing listlessly through tinsel wreathed around marble pillars. He loathed to see Father, it was always a feat to look the old man in the eye— he knew he was not everything he wanted in a son, but Soobin was already determined to be the role of the political ploy, the appeasement: “even you, bastard children of the Old Kingdom, can thrive as one of our own… that is, as long as you never rise higher than second in command.” The backhanded message follows unbidden.

Soobin could have been everything the New Kingdom needed, the royal family could keep a secret or a dozen, but announcing that it was not Soobin who would be his heir but the second-born, Beomgyu, was the only miscalculation his father had ever made.

Beomgyu knew he was not everything the king wanted, because he was too sentimental, too much like his mother. She was, to put it frankly, unstable, and fragile, for as long as she had been Beomgyu's mother. All of her past seemed to be beaten out of her along with her spirit, making her quite the suitable, delicate wife. Indeed, she was queenly, her closed red lips sitting so perfectly and staunchly on her pallid face that you could be fooled into thinking it was painted on, and there was really nothing behind them at all.

Beomgyu often laid his head on her lap, waiting motionless or with a beseeching sound for the better part of an hour for her to sing snippets of lullabies in her native tongue. Always quietly, always behind closed doors, those lips wobbling and bending with a thousand old memories.

She never cried, but he could tell she was no longer all there.

Each birthday became harder than the last, for all of them. It’s turmoil he’s unsure the outside world could see, whether their loyal court or his rambunctious cousins or the multitudes of uneasy citizens milling about the kingdom, tracing the borders uneasily as they kept a lookout for signs of invasion.

This coming birthday Beomgyu was sure would determine the trajectory of his life.

He paused and took a deep breath in front of the towering doors to the banquet hall, motioning a hand for the guards to stay as he collected himself. Soobin did not move a single questioning muscle, only cocking his head slightly up with his hands in repose behind his back, his nape turned politely to the younger prince.

Beomgyu pushed aside the thoughts of escaping the crown. He may be sentimental, a bit diffident, and unsure of himself, but he was still bred to be king. He was kind-hearted and intelligent. Secretly, he was proud of his own sentimentality. He would never put his men to war lightly, nor exacerbate the same atrocities his father and grandfather had commanded upon the innocent citizens of the Old Kingdom. Whether he was equipped to face the consequences was a different story.

"It's dangerous to be so kind," Soobin once said thoughtfully. "You could do one thing today to appease a feeling or ideal you have, and tomorrow find that someone has taken advantage of you." After a small pause with no answer to come, Beomgyu smiled easily. “Then, I trust you to look after me, brother.” Soobin smiled back in satisfaction at him, his lips stretching thin as though he would burst out of joy.

Beomgyu wondered now if all the promises they made to each other were of luxury, not natural accordance.

Their gifts were already in the ballroom, clustered in a pile with the ones from their cousins, aunts, uncles, and closest subservients. All that was missing was their presence; the hubbub of the party seeped out from under the great doors indicated a subdued, but jovial tone.

Beomgyu readied himself, adjusting his robes and feeling the feathery ends of his done hair with a small curve of satisfaction on his lips. He looked expectantly at Soobin, who said only one word to the cool space in front of him.

"Open."

And so the doors did at the older brother's intonation and the younger's command, gliding open in an illusion of effortlessness as the guards swung them open with calculated precision, the one on the left taking a step forward into the ballroom in front of them to announce their presence.

"His Royal Highness, Prince Choi Beomgyu, Duke of Daegu, and His Royal Highness, Prince Choi Soobin, Duke of Ansan." He announced plainly. Perhaps he had to do this for every guest, since personal heralds did not seem to be on the invite list. He suspected his mother would have preferred they had no announcements at all.

Beomgyu scanned the ballroom to situate himself surreptitiously, Soobin one step behind him.

In the perimeter were the refreshments and refillable entrées, then doubled-up rows of tables draped in white tablecloths. The center of the ballroom was open for anyone who wished to cluster in conversation or have a small dance; it was so cold that it would be much more agreeable to get active with a glass of wine cozying the stomach.

Recessed wings on both sides of the room offered space for more intimate gatherings, away from the box-shaped glow of sunlight cast through open windows lining opposite walls. Beomgyu noted that some perishables were placed far too close to the windows, but assumed that the frostiness on them would compensate.

And at the very end, on the portable, elevated thrones, were the king and queen. Mother and Father, on a good day.

The king was in his winter garb, the neutral palette bringing out the greys in his beard. He looked like a wise bear. Striking grey eyes, one from a developing cataract, glanced up and down at Beomgyu and Soobin, robed and suited up respectively, as though critiquing how long they took to gather together an acceptable appearance.

The queen had large, delicate white flowers with rounded petals threaded into the thin silver tines of her tiara, a short veil wreathing her bashful face. She wore a dress with a summery fit, yet wintery palette. Her hands were in her husband's, draped over the armrest and clutched together ever so subtly for support. Mother had never been one for grand occasions.

She smiled when she saw the princes enter, Beomgyu dryly crossing the expanse of marble tile between them to approach her with efficiency, aware of his tardiness. He knelt down on one knee.

"I apologize for my and my brother's lateness. Mother did always say, you can't rush perfection." A sneaky smile stole its way onto his face, the prince suddenly more relaxed than before though a small smattering of eyes was on him, appraising him as he straightened his shoulders and let out a breathy, proud laugh. His mother's eyes glittered as she deliberated whether to indulge him.

"Very well my sons, all is forgiven with music and cake." She smoothly transitioned to formally greeting their guests, raising a glass of red wine offered to her from a servant's platter.

"Dear friends and family," She addressed cheerfully— though she had none— "let the party begin!"

[][][]

The gift ceremony would soon be underway, the brothers taking their seats with their closest peers: their cousins. Two of them, Choi Yeonjun and Taehyun, by the king's elder sister, and one, Jung Kai, by his younger brother. The elder two had eyes like coal and features familiar to regions on the periphery of the capital. The latest and youngest had more delicate and refined features, not much more desirable but more exotic, from the northernmost province where the neighbors timidly mingled. His one eye was lavender gray, the other compromised in a jousting accident, nestled behind an eye patch.

"Look who's all dressed up," Yeonjun whistled with a playful smirk, teasing Soobin for his stiff mannerisms.

"Yeonjun-ah," Soobin nodded with a slight look of irony on his face, his back ever so straight.

"Hello, I hope you are well," Beomgyu inclined his head slightly, smiling demurely at his closest family. Their generation often went on outings, and on occasion, they were even invited for political input as dukes of their respective provinces.

Yeonjun had the ankle of one smartly booted leg propped up on the knee of the other, their buckles shining as he sipped wine and gorged himself on buttered bread and fruit. For all his indulgence, his foxy eyes stayed sharp, never settling in one place. They raked over Beomgyu's figure in a split second with equal appetite before he leaned back towards one of the plates, offering Beomgyu a plucked red grape pinched between his fingers, a simpering smile marring his face.

Beomgyu looked down at the offered grape and back up, giving the slightest of pauses before he opened his palm beneath Yeonjun's, catching the grape as his first cousin let it drop with a soured pout sitting on his full lips.

A bird's wing fluttered against the window, jostling a pane and startling Beomgyu, who had sidled up to it unconsciously. Probably to get away from the friction of their interactions.

"Oh, the poor thing," He exclaimed, taking the opportunity to crack the floor-length window slightly open, sprinkling some crumbs, and seeds, and placing the grape on the window ledge.

"There's not much to eat in the winter," he turned around and beamed, his heart thumping as his eyes roved around seeking approval. Yeonjun had gone silent and forlorn but begrudgingly conceded his defeat. Soobin gave a gentle smile to his brother, one that could be passed off as simple adoration, but Beomgyu found it to be colored with a twinge of self-satisfaction.

Taehyun came closer and put a hand against the frost, leaving an imprint on the glass as he hummed appreciatively.

"It's a good condition for cold working though, you could say the air adds some… frostbite to the metal," He joked, large bright eyes glittering gallantly at Beomgyu. His second cousin would be a charmer if it wasn’t for his obsession with metallurgy and technological warfare.

"A cold-formed blade in the right ambient temperature stabs two inches deeper than an average heat forged blade." He said thoughtfully, the sharp line of his nose cutting through Beomgyu's nerves. "We should stay technologically advanced enough to defend ourselves from encroaching enemies."

Beomgyu put his head down in anguish, wondering if he was simply too idealistic, unwilling to consider anything unappealing to his superego. When the time comes, will he be a wall of fortitude for his people, or a mere veneer, like so many weaker crowns rolling around in the dirt?

All this time, Kai wore a sickly expression, his skin stretched pale and waxy over his mousey face as though he put on too much make-up. His yellow-blond hair clumped together in sweaty strands. His eye quivered a little, sunlight reflecting off the clear bottom of his iris.

Beomgyu noticed the younger boy's discomfort with a frown. "Kai," he called to the boy fidgeting a few paces from their small crowd, "is the temperature alright? I'm beginning to feel stuffy, myself."

Truthfully, cold eluded the layers of silken robes Beomgyu had on, but he was far from sweltering, as Kai's beaded temple indicated. The sweet boy, only fifteen and slightly rumpled-looking, stuck out like a sore thumb amidst the celebrations, looking nauseated by something unknown.

"Some water," Soobin handed Kai a glass that the boy accepted with a small gulp of thanks. Beomgyu decided to sit closer, a comforting hand on Kai's knee as they continued their idle chatter. Kai blushed like he had drunk all afternoon.

The halting of the music signaled attention back to the queen, who glanced wearily at the small tower of gifts at the foot of her throne, allowing her lady to decide the opening order with meticulousness. The highest generations went first until they were within one generation of direct relatives, then it went in order of personal closeness. Close friends, again of which she had none, would come after elder relatives but before her own children and spouse.

Each person took center stage before the queen to explain their gift and to receive praise or other less savory judgements. It was all incredibly showy, but Beomgyu had to get used to a lot of showiness to just endure his days. Conducting the gift-giving in such a large space did demand some orderliness.

When it came time for Yeonjun's gift, the young cavalier captain puffed out his chest proudly, awaiting the queen's reaction to his gift. His riding boots gleamed as though they were polished that morning, his heels clicking across the floor with cocky confidence.

The gift box was small, the size and height of a small stack of reading books. The audience watched the unravelment, the slightly bewildered expression as she pulled out a horse bit, then another, then another. In total, the box fit six bits.

Allowing a moment for speculation and conjectures to build, Yeonjun signalled through the windows for a handler outside.

The crowd watched in awe as the handler led out one, two, three sets of exquisitely bred draft horses. They towered over the handler by no less than four hands each, who was already quite a stately man as he led them around, his verbal commands muted through the glass. They were sleek and white-pelted, signature furred hooves as thick as a spread hand as they cantered a lap around. Their manes were combed and braided in several locks.

Beomgyu watched slightly slack-mouthed alongside the rest of the audience. The creatures somehow managed to exude both majesty and menace from their powerful forms, their tough muscles knotting and unknotting.

After a glorious display of the horses taking advantage of the ballroom's open view, Yeonjun bowed to Her Majesty.

"Auntie, I hope you appreciate this gift of six purebred, docile yet sturdy equines. At a moment's beckon, they are disposed to fight tooth and nail for you, just as I will for the crown." He explained with a flourish.

"On a normal day, of course, Your Majesty may find them more suited for a rendezvous as carriage horses."

She smiled faintly and nodded her head. "Thank you, dear nephew, they are lovely creatures, with a lot of care and intent put into them."

The ballroom filled with hushed murmurs as the meaning of the horses was not lost on them. The pride sitting in Yeonjun's smirk could not be slapped off as he retook his seat. In a surprisingly smooth display, he had shown incredible thoughtfulness and duality; horses, like humans, had sword tips pointed up for war and pointed down for peace.

Then it was time for Taehyun's gift. A slender, flat box incurred Beomgyu's suspicions, and he was soon proved right. The queen opened the box to an exquisite decorative dagger nestled in blue velvet, the base etched with the delicate, rounded petals of rose of Sharon— the national flower. She held it up against the backdrop of her hand, showing off its silvery glint to her guests.

Taehyun bowed stiffly, ninety degrees down, ninety degrees up.

"Ma'am, cold-forged with special and delicate chemical techniques, this blade is of the highest quality my artisanry can offer. Its slight stature does not obscure its meticulous sharpness. Our brilliant nation demands forward thinking and quiet, sharp persistence cutting through the night's veil." He finished his presentation as though he had completed it at school; top of his class and the highest scorer on entrance exams in the last three decades, Taehyun was not to be bested.

"Thank you," the queen said faintly. "As you who know me, this blade will live a peaceful life, never to witness bloodshed. Once again, we must remind ourselves that with great power comes great responsibility, and it is up to us who are more fortunate to use our privilege for good, to find beauty in harshness."

She surprised Beomgyu with her forwardness; he had not expected such a rallying speech. The king raised an eyebrow imperceptibly beside her.

"Exactly so, ma'am." Taehyun breathed out before returning to his seat.

Again the guests murmured between themselves, some admiring Taehyun's steadfastness and wit, others put off by his inhumanly exact nature. Either way, it was apparent that Taehyun had grown as fine as the blades he cultured.

Then, it was time for Jung Kai's gift. The boy beside Beomgyu had gone concerningly still, his head wilting into his own collar. His cheeks burned red and Beomgyu pressed a fretful hand to his forehead, giving a "tsk" in worry.

He mumbled something under his breath, a desire for Beomgyu to accompany him to the middle of the room for his gift presentation because he was too nervous to go by himself, and the older boy's heart melted with tenderness. The two of them shuffled slowly to the middle, feeling the gazes wearing heavily on them.

Everyone in the room was deadly curious about the youngest boy's gift, leaning in with their ears and eyes pert as the queen turned around a very tiny box in her hand. This one was no larger than a morning muffin.

"The smallest packages hold the biggest surprises," she said mirthfully as she held the whimsically small box up for the audience to see.

The courteous joy wiped off her face when she took off the lid.

"There's been a mistake. Kai—?"

Beomgyu squinted at the small glittering thing still nestled in the box, eyes widening as he recognized the inlaid ruby jewel, the signature twisting of warm dragon-scaled gold into a finger-width loop.

Their friends and family similarly gasped and all chaos broke out as Beomgyu whipped his head towards Kai, his crown threatening to teeter off.

"Hueningkai you— " Beomgyu sucked in a breath and bit his tongue so hard it bled for fear of saying expletives, squeezing his eyes shut once.

"Jung Kai, what are you doing with the family betrothal ring?" He hissed, shaking his wrist out of Kai's sweaty grasp, staggering a step back from the motion.

"I- I…" Kai took a tiny breath before running away from him and bounding towards the queen, cupping his hands for permission. She gave him the box with shock not yet dissipating from her eyes, which Beomgyu now saw was fashioned as a ring box, and yet he still held onto disbelief. Kai walked briskly towards him again, a peculiar expression on his face.

Everybody was watching them, the room buzzing with apprehension. Beomgyu's stomach only dropped when Kai got to one knee before him.

"Choi Beomgyu, prince of New Kingdom, Duke of Daegu. I, Jung Kai, ask for your hand in marriage in the hopes that one day, we will forge a stronger, brighter future for our people and our land." His tinny voice rang through the deadly silent room. Beomgyu felt dizzy. He looked dimly at his cousins and brother. Yeonjun wore an expression of undisguised annoyance. Taehyun cocked his head in quiet thought. Soobin… Soobin was Soobin. Like a gray slate, as always.

The Jungs were somewhere else unlocated in the crowd, though their characteristic blond hair would distinguish them. Beomgyu wondered if they felt shame or any modesty at all for their son.

For a moment he stood and fidgeted in place, trying not to sway and slump over in the weight of his clandestine garbs.

"That and, I really do love you, my favorite cousin, my older brother Beomgyu," Kai added quietly under his breath, though nothing could undermine the silence of the audience. He had gone completely red from the neck up, his eyelashes quaking dangerously as though he was about to cry, his tone curiously apologetic.

Beomgyu felt much like crying, himself.

"On what grounds?" He finally choked out. He hoped Kai would be the first to resign, to straighten himself back out from where he knelt still on the cold tile, as though he would grow into it while waiting for an answer.

"I will work hard, I can communicate, I— " Kai rattled off as though pulling a rehearsed list from somewhere in his mind.

"That's enough." The king's firm voice cut through the poor boy's ramblings. He rubbed a finger at his graying temple as though it pained him, inhaling a long, deep breath before he spoke.

"There is neither the time nor occasion for you to be making proposals, Kai. If anything, you are a growing young man who should focus on developing his own talents before trying to court my son, my only heir and the entitled crown prince." His tone was grave on the last few words; Beomgyu nearly bowed his head in embarrassment.

"Because you are my dear nephew, your actions today leave us with an impression of your compassion and bravery. Please do not attempt stunts like this again."

Kai could not nod, only casting his eye down where his hands were clasped, or maybe staring at the point of Beomgyu's boot.

"As for whoever spurred you on to illicitly obtain possession of our family jewel, rest assured I will have a serious talk with them once their identity is uncovered," Father promised.

Everyone shifted uneasily in their seats.

"Now please, it is my beautiful wife's special day, let us proceed with the last handful of gifts." The king gestured with an outstretched hand. His mother looked about as sickly as Kai did, ill at ease to continue after such an upset.

It wasn't Kai she was upset at, of course, but the topic of betrothal for her precious son, the incestuous bid for power and retaining it. She was an outsider, she knew. Even if Kai held a sweet love for his cousin, the following suitor may not. And what then, if her sentimental Beomgyu could see kindness in vermin yet not infestation in the hibiscus?

The final gifts were from her own children, the two princes. Soobin gifted her a comb carved from imported ivory, Beomgyu gifted her new embroidered gloves for gardening, plus a few packets of flower seeds for when spring arrives. Only a trained eye would be able to tell that the stitching pattern on said gloves was distinctly Old Kingdom, already antiquated but sturdy in a unique way.

Because they were her own children, the mood of the party relaxed, the queen beaming at them brightly. The brothers grinned back before the gift ceremony came to a close, couples bleeding onto the dance floor to celebrate, conversationalists mingling along the sides. The doors had been opened for more distant guests to hop in and out for dining and rest, such as miscellaneous staff and guards and soldiers off work.

The original group of five reconvened tersely, Yeonjun and Taehyun gulping down big glasses of wine while Soobin nursed a thin flute of champagne with a penetrating stare at Beomgyu, Kai hovering nervously at the outskirts before flitting off to his parents, then back and forth between them, as if he couldn't quite fit in.

A graying gentleman, in a similarly-decorated military uniform as Soobin, gently tapped the young man's shoulder to get his attention. His full moustache shook as he spoke, quite uncharacteristic for a country whose men tended to keep clean-shaven, and as a result quite characteristic for the man himself.

"Prince Soobin, may I request your presence for a discussion with me and the boys? See, there's been some advancement from the Risen Kingdom on the eastern front…"

Soobin's gaze flickered away from Beomgyu to respond. "Of course Lieutenant Kim, I'll be with you in a moment."

He wove leisurely around the group to Beomgyu’s side before whispering into the shell of his ear: “Don’t go anywhere alone. If you need me, just call for a toast.” He squeezed Beomgyu's arm gently before leaving with the old lieutenant, Beomgyu staring wistfully at their backs as they were met with open arms by seasoned officers and strategists. He had never been called to any warfare meetings his father wasn't also a part of; Soobin's capabilities were much more acknowledged than his.

"It's getting a bit crowded here, isn't it Taehyun?" Yeonjun looked around with a bored expression. The younger man nodded in agreement. "Yes, crowded. Maybe we should investigate the east wing to find somewhere quieter."

"Well, I guess it would be easier to hear each other," Beomgyu conceded, and let his cousins lead him into the east wing. It was a smaller room, with some sitting windows and a grandfather clock for decoration.

"Littlest cousin," Yeonjun started pacing in a leisurely circle around the room, still swirling what was left in his wine glass. They had all stopped drinking ages ago, though the two brothers were tinged slightly pink. Whether from intoxication or something else, Beomgyu was about to find out. Yeonjun's heels clicked hypnotically.

But Yeonjun's pacing was not directed towards him, it was to Kai, who shuffled in place as the older man— truly there was a hierarchy, Yeonjun turned twenty-two earlier that fall— ducked down to eye-level and flashed him a sharky grin, all his canines showing.

"I thought we agreed that there would be no wantonness, no hoarding, and no elusion." He stared into the space just ahead of him for a moment, his gaze hardening.

"He's just a child, whatever he's done can be forgive— " Beomgyu interjected with exasperation, now fatigued in earnest from that sad lavender eye sneaking looks at him, the mop of wilted blond hair like that of a docile puppy. He's tired of the games, the quiet slyness of the brothers that polluted a joyous day.

"Oh? And pardon me, were we not the ones to answer your question…"

"'On what grounds,' he said," Taehyun helpfully supplied.

"On what grounds," Yeonjun repeated, savoring it. "Definitely a statement, though it's a fair attempt for someone taken by surprise.

Let's not beat around the bush," Yeonjun sneered. He looked coldly at Kai. "Ignoring the insolence of our dear cousin and the otherwise esteemed house of Jung who put his frivolous little head on the chopping block, let's admit his intentions and those of me and Taehyun's are synonymous."

Beomgyu swiveled blankly towards Taehyun to make sure he had heard correctly. The straight-faced man stared back at him, impassive as Yeonjun continued his monologue. He seemed to always be thinking, and was the most dangerous with his mouth closed.

"Our lovely little prince," Yeonjun licked his tongue over his teeth. "Do you really think you have what it takes to rule this magnificent kingdom all alone?"

Beomgyu shrank at that, the rhythmic ticking of the clock hands echoing in his ears.

Tick, tick, tick.

Was Yeonjun suddenly closer? Beomgyu backed up a step, wrinkling his nose at the smell of alcohol on his cousin's breath.

"With us by your side, our on-field expertise will aid your decision-making," Taehyun gave a non-suggestion, shoulder to shoulder with Yeonjun as they crowded Beomgyu into a corner.

"Kai help— " Beomgyu gasped, the boy's view half-blocked by Yeonjun's broad shoulder. Kai stepped to Yeonjun's other side with a sheepish expression.

Tick, tick, tick.

What did Soobin say?

"Our enemies will fall, our own will prosper." Yeonjun snarled.

"I, I know that." Beomgyu could only stammer.

"Sure seems like you don't want it," Yeonjun cocked his head to the side, his tone mocking.

Tick, tick, tick.

"You're so pretty," Kai muttered, close enough for his breath to blow hot air onto Beomgyu's clavicle. Beside him, Yeonjun let out a breathy laugh of surprise, giving a cruel flick to Beomgyu's crown as he goaded on the boy.

"Kai," Beomgyu pleaded.

The youngest only reached a tentative hand out to touch the ruffles on Beomgyu's robes, his wandering hand traveling lower to graze Beomgyu's thin waist. Beomgyu let out a shuddering sob. If he could not fight even against this, there was no way he could lead a country. He scrambled to find some resolve, a way out of this helplessness.

The grandfather clock went off.

GONG, GONG, GONG…

"Ngh!" Beomgyu let out a small cry as he shoved back the youngest, slipping out of the wing and running back into the main ballroom, hastily wiping the beads of tears threatening to roll off the corners of his eyes.

"The evening has ripened, let us have a toast!" He cried out. Some guests were taken aback by his disheveledness, but Beomgyu only smiled as brightly as he could, hoping they would chalk it up to an evening well spent.

How far from the truth it was.

Soobin's head, dark and towering (as the entire royal family tended to be, even amongst his soldiers), turned recognizably within an instance. He stormed quickly towards Beomgyu, his expression thunderous. Already his eyes scanned his little brother's form, picking up pieces of information other guests may not.

"To my mother and a prosperous life that we will all share!" Beomgyu cheered, raising his flute up high. Soobin snagged one of his own absentmindedly off a server's platter before steering Beomgyu away to an opposite corner of the ballroom.

From the east wing trickled out three figures.

"Soobin, my brother," Beomgyu gasped out and buried his shameful face in the older man's lapel.

"There, there," Soobin swept sweaty strands from his forehead; he rarely did soothing gestures for him anymore; Beomgyu was hit with the misery of growing older. He hadn't known a day of peace since he turned seventeen.

"They looked at me like meat, they claim I'm not fit to be king," he confessed tearfully. Soobin scanned the ballroom warily. He decided to take Beomgyu out into the dim hall, nightfall beginning to shroud the corridors in shadow.

"There, let's go back to your chambers," Soobin said, rubbing a hand on Beomgyu's back as he drew deep breaths.

"Kai… Kai touched me."

That drew a snarl from Soobin, enraged and full of something else, a spark in his eyes that was hard to capture before it went away, replaced by the darkness that so eluded Beomgyu, the way all things were beginning to elude him; the more he learned, the less he knew.

Though they hadn't had dinner, Beomgyu willingly let himself be led along to his chambers, wanting nothing more than a good sleep and the warmth of his blankets. At one point, Soobin dropped any intention of walking Beomgyu along and simply scooped him up in his strong arms, letting Beomgyu bury his face in the crook of his neck without a single sentiment as he carried him back to his chambers.

They had grown too old for such indulgence, but then again, in Soobin's opinion, they had grown too old to be pointed around.

Beomgyu let himself be cradled softly onto the bed, the two of them only breathing for a moment, catching their breath as they became aware of the heavy garb still on the crown prince. The embroidery was digging into his back. Soobin took off his crown and placed it on the bedside drawer.

"Ah, um…" Beomgyu vocalized without direction, looking at the complicated buttons and ruffles and belts on just his outer robe alone. There was only light streaming in from the hall, and the moon had not risen far enough to be of help. Jiwoo usually helped him dress extravagantly…

"I've got it, dear brother." Soobin gave him an uncharacteristic peck on the forehead, eliciting a small whine of happiness from Beomgyu before the younger man gave up his attire to his brother, letting Soobin meticulously undo everything and undress him slowly. This is what comes of a prince who does everything for himself, Beomgyu thought in faint admiration and shamefulness.

Soobin let Beomgyu change his own underclothes in the dark, peeling off his sweat-stained undershirt and pants, shimmying into a loose nightshirt. He waited on the edge of Beomgyu’s bed for the younger to return.

"Thank you," Beomgyu sighed into lush pillows as Soobin arranged a thin blanket around his shoulders. He was almost asleep when he heard it, a low mumble from the foot of his bed. He lifted his head slightly.

Oh, Soobin was still here.

"If you will marry, it should at least be me." His face was dark; from the other end of the bed, it was impossible to tell Soobin's expression. He could feel his brother picking absentmindedly at the threads on his blanket, gently yet with effect.

Beomgyu laid his head back down on his pillow, feeling dizzy.

"Those three? Are you kidding me?" Soobin snorted derisively.

Right, not them, Beomgyu thought.

But Soobin?

The weight at the end of his bed finally lifted, and Beomgyu fell into an uneasy slumber.

[][][]

It was several hours later when Beomgyu's eyes slid open hazily, noting the change in the lighting of the room.

It took him a moment to identify what woke him, for it was still dark. The moon was moving across the sky, just beyond the translucent fabric of his curtains.

There. A slight wet dripping of lavender-scented droplets on the edge of his pillow, a heavy body laid belly-down beside his own, peering at him through a pair of sulky eyes. Beomgyu felt like giggling, so he did, turning his body towards Soobin.

"What are you doing here? You never sleep with me anymore." He ran a finger through Soobin's damp hair. Freshly showered. Beomgyu realized with a flip of his stomach that his brother only donned a bathrobe, the mercury-like silk loosely slipping off his muscled shoulder.

"Just wanted to lay here a bit. Call it a dream, if you want," Soobin eventually answered, speaking into the crook of his arm.

"Then, I never want to wake up," Beomgyu placed a tentative hand over that bare shoulder, feeling the coolness of Soobin's skin before snuggling in closer, sighing softly in contentment.

Without warning, Soobin wrapped his arm around Beomgyu, pulling him in tighter as he rested his chin on the younger's shoulder, hiding his face.

"Brother?"

"I have never lived a single day without loving you," Soobin's lips were hot on his clavicle, eliciting a soft whine from the boy in his grasp.

"Never. Before you, I was a walking corpse. After you, if fate be so terrible, I will be your monument. I will love you until time forgets me. I swear it." He jerked his head up and licked a stripe towards Beomgyu's earlobe, the younger letting out a yelp of surprise.

He tried to wriggle out of Soobin's grasp, his skin tingling and his mind alerted from its drowsiness.

"Make me your groom, give me the title of your greatest worshipper. Your suitors will not hold a candle to me." In his heart, Beomgyu knew it was true, even as the dark grew frightening.

Bit by bit Soobin's hand eased down, popping off one, two buttons from Beomgyu's nightshirt before his large, warm palm reached inside to grope, fondling the meager flesh of the prince's pecs and making Beomgyu's toes curl.

"I— I don't know," He cried out between gasps, "I'm so scared— " He let out a hiccup in distress. Soobin cooed and clicked his tongue in response, making Beomgyu even more sure it was a dream. His brother had never indicated interest in him like this, had never undertaken such pleasurable actions that Beomgyu was melting in his hands. Their hips ground together purposefully and at the same time Beomgyu gasped, Soobin was letting out a low growl.

"Consider it, dear brother. What the Jungs tried to execute today may be foolish and loose-handed, but I will accompany you for life. I will do as you command me, I will defend and cherish you."

Beomgyu held Soobin's face in his hands and looked with wide eyes into his, the two of them pressed so close they were sharing the same breaths. Soobin's breath smelled like mint. He was unsure if his own still held traces of champagne.

"I know you will, I know it," He half-sobbed. There was just so much darkness in the monarchy, he could not forget the claustrophobia of his cousins surrounding him, a sensation vaguely replicated by Soobin now, but he was just so tall, and big. So sturdy where Beomgyu was flimsy. They rocked subtly together, each chasing the pleasure of friction.

Soobin gently rolled him onto his back, Beomgyu already disheveled and quivering in anticipation. The cool air of the room hit his bare chest and snuck up his pants legs. Soobin had sat up and pried his knees apart with his own, one hand undoing the knot of his robe. A heavy, lurching shadow under the silken cloth made Beomgyu gulp.

"Will you have me, brother?" Soobin's eyes were drowned in lust, something so wanton Beomgyu had never seen on him. Was he the one to make Soobin lose control? Were all these walls built between them mere illusion? He hated to think how much he missed his older brother.

"Will you lay with me? Can I have you?" At some point, Soobin's face had gotten close, his large hand wrapping around Beomgyu's throat completely as he caged Beomgyu's body in with his own.

Beomgyu didn't know what to do, so he only reached his arms out and cried, "Oh, hold me," hands tracing the lines of muscle on Soobin's back. He shuddered as though he had touched a magical beast. I missed you, was what he wanted to say. Instead, he only let the words smoulder like hot coal in his belly, allowing himself to be whisked up in the pursuits of the flesh.

"Good, I will be so good," Soobin nearly panted, his other hand reaching to pull down Beomgyu's waistband. He hadn't noticed his own wanton secretions wetting the front of his pants. Did his body like it so much? The crown prince fought the urge to close his legs together, unable to anyway as Soobin pinned them down, exposing the white skin of Beomgyu's thighs to the moonlight. He parted his robes and Beomgyu jumped in his skin as Soobin's penis bobbed once, slapping a burning, wet stripe across his right thigh. The sensation was in both parts humorous and shocking. Even Soobin's member was just like him, tall and imposing as it gave a sick pulse, unashamed of its lust.

"See how you've made me, dear brother," He said almost lovingly, sickeningly, his hand coming to handle his member roughly, baring its angry red head to the overwhelmed prince. With his free hand, he stroked again Beomgyu's cheek, the locks of his hair, his slim jaw.

"I thought you had grown apathetic to me," Beomgyu confessed in a rush, "I thought our titles, our evolving duties, have made you weary." He was sure he sounded mad, letting his thoughts and confessions come unbidden in this darkness that they shared. But they were hurtling towards something so intimate, he had to let Soobin know.

"Does this look apathetic?" Soobin stroked his penis again, hips pistoning up into the grip of his fist. Though words were falling out of his mouth and sweat was beading on his hairline, his eyes had long grown fiery and hard since the prince reacted favorably to his advances.

"Mistake me not, Crown Prince Beomgyu," Soobin reached around Beomgyu's hips, thumb pads rubbing lightly at the two shallow divots there as though contemplating, or merely dallying out of some enjoyment. "A closed door hides many more secrets than an open one. And a closed heart, well, it doesn't let anything spill out." With a lax grin like one he hadn't shown Beomgyu in years, he bodily dragged the slim boy towards him, eliciting a yelp from Beomgyu as their hips slotted together, Soobin's wet tip bumping against his entrance with an electric shock.

"Wait, it's too big…" Beomgyu whimpered, cheeks heating in embarrassment as his fingers grazed Soobin ever so slightly, sending tingles up his hand. On the inside, he was more elated than apprehensive, his heart blooming with joy. His brother still loved him after all.

"Don't worry, I have oil to ease the way. May I?" Beomgyu nodded and waited dreadfully as Soobin uncorked a vial that was nestled inside his robe, pouring a thin string right on Beomgyu's opening, making the younger man gasp as the cold oil— lavender-scented again, it would haunt him forever— trickled around and caressed his most sensitive parts.

He held back his noises as Soobin reached a finger in him, massaging around his walls. Beomgyu knew what sex and masturbation were, of course, they had classes for these things just like they had classes for everything else like etiquette and penmanship, but he had never indulged. It seemed kind of depraved, though, in essence, it was much the same as entertaining himself with a book or playing tennis in the courtyard.

"I know, brother, pleasures of the flesh eluded you," Soobin said knowingly, almost to himself. "Was it discipline? Was it pride?" Soobin made a scissoring motion inside him, parting his channel and widening his hole for display, the air currents making him tingle.

"You have always dealt with the light. You don't know of darkness, that's what it is," Soobin started accusing him, two fingers turning into three as he thrust in and out rhythmically, slick sounds filling the air.

"I cannot blame you, you were born in the light, soon you will become our kingdom's light." Though Soobin's tone was affectionate and reverent, Beomgyu felt hurt grip his heart like barbs. "You do not know things like human nature, or you would not have been led astray by your cousins today. You would not have loved me back, all those years ago."

"Tonight, let us have a taste of darkness," Soobin's lips curled in joy, removing his fingers with a suctioning sound and lapping up the juices with an eager tongue.

He lined himself up again at Beomgyu's entrance and inched in slowly, letting out a quiet sigh as the engorged glans popped past the tight opening. Tears pricked the corners of Beomgyu's eyes at the intrusion, but he bit onto his fist to hold on, concentrating on Soobin rubbing soothing circles into his hips.

The last of the dampness in his hair dripped onto Beomgyu's navel, making the boy twitch and flutter over the member inside him. Soobin steadily snapped his hips forward in one smooth motion, spearing Beomgyu on him like conquered meat.

"It's good," He whined, his fingers clenching so tight they left marks on Soobin's arm.

"I know, dear." Soobin pressed a kiss to his sweaty forehead. Crown princes were not doted on like so, but brothers, brothers were. His wonderful older brother. It was so easy to believe Soobin would keep him safe.

Soobin paused a moment before he opened him up again, the head of his penis digging roughly into Beomgyu's squishy walls, occasionally brushing against a spot that was especially pleasurable, making light gasps and moans come unbidden out of Beomgyu's lips. He himself was losing composure, his eyes flitting desperately between the wet heat that sucked him in and the face of his bed partner, quickly unravelling.

"May I go faster?" He panted, already canting his hips at a steeper angle, driving into Beomgyu, the flesh of their thighs kissing each time, rubbed raw.

Yes, carry me with you, take me away from this place.

"Yes, a million times yes." He held them down, his cowardly pleas.

Soobin pounded into him so hard it made the bed rock, Beomgyu's fingers slithering up to hold onto the posts before they're taken from his control, his brother kissing along the back of them, never breaking eye contact.

It was with yet another foreign bloom of ecstasy that they both arrived at orgasm, Beomgyu's toes curling as Soobin's hips stuttered, once, twice in him, his length pulsating as he shot his release into Beomgyu. Finally, he pulled out, going flaccid and wiping himself off with his robe. He gently pried open Beomgyu, watching with satisfaction as dollops of his sperm trickled down the seam of his buttocks.

"Ach, the sheets will be dirty," Beomgyu complained, lightheaded from his climax.

"And? If it is Jiwoo who will tend to them, she will bless our union." Soobin spoke as though he was envisioning something grand and far away. Something more intelligent in Beomgyu clocked it as delusion, but the rest of him was only a satiated animal, rubbed behind the ear and finally adored in the way he craved, flicking his tail contentedly.

His brother made no motion to leave, only resuming his original position beside Beomgyu in bed, his silvery robe drawn back on as though they had never done the deed. And whether he fell asleep or not, Beomgyu didn't know, for his face was buried away into the pillows, and his breathing turned steady already, his entire being peaceful as he staked his claim on Beomgyu's bed, his strewn clothing, the throbbing in his muscles, everything; in Beomgyu he had found the antidote for his misery.

And Beomgyu was left alone with stickiness running down his thighs, the potent smell of lavender lulling him to some destination unknown.

Soobin's words echoed in his head.

You don't know of darkness.

"You're wrong," Beomgyu mumbled, already fading out of consciousness, exhausted from a post-coitus reverie. He spoke into a room so lonely his voice echoed.

"I know darkness. I only see past it."

[][][]

It's dark when he awoke for the final time, the glittering moon in attendance and shining through his curtains, lighting his room in flat surfaces and shapes of shadows, a distorted reality where the predominant color was gray and everything was cut from stone.

Soobin's deep breaths beside him calmed him. Beomgyu reached out ghostly fingers, unsure of what he was doing until they glanced the snowy fur on Soobin's back. He must be hallucinating, for his brother's back was donned in a heavy, furry pelt, like those of the winter wolves that stalked the edges of the forests whenever Beomgyu was escorted on patrol.

He sank his fingers into the moonlit silver, marvelling at its softness, a soft "oh," escaping his lips.

It was warm.

He followed Soobin's nape up to two pointy ears, a long snout, and closed eyes, the balls of them rolling subtly as he dozed. His black lips covered, for the most part, large, sharp teeth. Beomgyu remembered that the wolves he saw were always larger than predicted, their size always just on the outskirts of comprehension.

So this was the creature who bedded him, who watched him grow and waited on him.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and watched Soobin turn back to a regular sleeping man, with a mop of black hair spilt over his side of Beomgyu's pillow.

Beomgyu closed his eyes without a word this time, inhaling deeply and willing himself to sleep until morning. He wondered if his beloved brother would follow him in his dreams, too.