Chapter Text
Duty hung heavy on each and every king’s crown. It was a burden none of them had chosen to carry but that was given at birth, sealed by marriage and passed down to their offspring. As natural as breathing, inevitable as death itself — there was no question: if there came a time where war was needed, it would absolutely happen. If it came to a time where people starved and died, an alliance was always made. In different ways.
Eternis was beautiful — surrounded by a rich forest, lakes and rivers. Its people have thrived for thousands of years, living off what the forest gave them and trading with neighbor realms. Magical creatures lived in the woods and legends said that members of the royal family were gifted. None of the princes, princesses, kings or queens have ever used or displayed their gift if they had one.
One of the most ancient traditions, however, was to handle trade and crisis through marriage.
For everything that was beautiful, delicate, and magical, there was also something torn, rough and shaped by the edge of a sword. Thornsreach, farther south, was a contrasting image to the comforting and welcoming realm of Eternis. Ruled under an iron fist, the kingdom thrived on exploration and conquering, a strong army and loyalty. Whispers flew down the rivers, up the mountains and through the forests that the kingdom was cursed, all of its kings going mad by the early age of thirty, the offspring doomed at conception.
Yeonjun was no stranger to the stories, he had heard them as a child from the books the nannies and maidens read to him during bed time. It didn't matter that the doors to his balcony were open, the soft moonlight lighting up the room beautifully. Yeonjun held tighter to Beomgyu, both wide-eyed and trembling under the soft covers. He felt sorry for the people who lived there, wished he could do something to change it, couldn't imagine what it felt like to live in fear.
Yeonjun held dearly the memories of running through the forest with Beomgyu on his toes, climbing up the trees to pick the sweetest apples, munching on them by the river after they got tired of all the games they came up with. In Yeonjun’s mind, the kingdom of Thornsreach had dark skies full of clouds, dragons breathing dark smoke at the entrance and volcanoes spilling fire almost constantly. In a child-like fantasy, Yeonjun believed his home was safe and sound from all harm. In his innocence, Yeonjun believed he was the one destined to change how his people had survived all this time. He would not have to marry someone to keep their people safe.
He would find another way, he was sure of it.
Until one morning, while helping the servants to pick wild berries on the east wing of his castle, he heard the screaming and saw dark smoke towering over them. He watched, in horror, as men in armors swung their swords left and right, hurting his people, the people he was supposed to protect. Yeonjun yelled, and cried and begged, as one of his knights grabbed him by the waist and threw him over his shoulder and ran inside, to hide.
From his bedroom, Beomgyu's hand in his, they watched as their forest burned. The tall, green trees, burned in a violent red, reduced to ashes in a blink of an eye. Yeonjun’s heart ached and clenched as he watched. He cried and cried in Beomgyu’s arms, wondering why, wondering why they had done this. There must have been another way, he knew that. Yeonjun cried when a different knight entered his chambers abruptly, both him and Beomgyu jumping on their feet at the sudden intrusion.
“The king awaits you, your highness.”
Holding Beomgyu’s hand in his, they made their way to the king’s hall, where all meetings were held.
“What are they whispering, Beomgyu?” Yeonjun had demanded, whispering against his best friend’s ear as they walked. Their steps echoed in the room while the sounds of bodies being slaughtered and fire burned the world down came through the glass windows. “You must tell me, listen well.”
By his side, Beomgyu’s expression reflected his — fear in his green eyes, his brows knit together in worry. His hands trembled and Yeonjun held it tighter, trying to give him some confidence that he himself did not have. Yeonjun was the prince. One day, he would inherit their home and it was his duty to protect his people. It pained him immensely that in that moment all he could do was hide.
“It’s the Mad King,” Beomgyu whispered back, his eyes on the knights around them, “He’s with your majesty, the King, right now. He has demands.” Beomgyu looked at Yeonjun, his eyes full of tears, “He will pursue his will, unyielding, until the world bends to it.”
A single tear fell from Beomgyu’s eye and Yeonjun quickly wiped it with his thumb, “You must be strong. Do not show your true feelings,” was Yeonjun’s advice.
Yeonjun’s own complexion gave away his pain and inner turmoil. On top of his ash blond hair, the crown he carried hung heavy. The door which separated the rest of the castle to the hall was closed, armed guards stood in front of it. Yeonjun recognized some of his own — wearing their long white capes, all of them wore a cracking mask of calmness. By their sides, more guards stood their ground with long swords, their deep crimson capes falling on their backs. Some of them had their faces concealed by a hood with intricate golden embroidery around it. Yeonjun felt his heart skipping a beat, fear threatening to take over.
It was like all of Yeonjun’s fantasies of Thornsreach were true and he was about to see them right in front of his eyes.
But Yeonjun was Eternis’ prince, so he held his chin up, straightened his shoulders, and told Beomgyu to do the same and stand behind him. They walked into the hall slowly, and the scene before his eyes was very different from what he had imagined. A striking contrast to the horrors taking place outside of their gates.
His father and the Mad King sat at the long round wooden table, facing each other, chatting casually. The servants brought glasses with a purple liquid, which Yeonjun assumed to be tea. They drank and the slight tremor of Yeonjun’s father’s hand didn’t go unnoticed.
It took them a minute or two to acknowledge their presence in the room.
“My lovely son,” he was greeted warmly, as he always was. Opening his arms, his father invited him closer, “Come and sit. Beomgyu, you’re welcome as well.”
The action was not new to them. Yeonjun often took part in the council’s meetings. He had been learning since he turned fifteen. Eager to help and to be a good king, a breath of change and prosperity, Yeonjun had always been very vocal about his opinions and ideas. His father listened well, but hardly ever took Yeonjun’s ideas into consideration, arguing that traditions existed for a reason: it kept balance, helped them thrive and survive. Still, Yeonjun had felt comfortable and welcomed in the room. He had felt seen.
Those feelings were all replaced by uncertainty and fear. He sat, eyed Beomgyu to follow his father’s orders, and waited.
“This is King Choi Kangdae, from Thornsreach,” his father extended his hand and Yeonjun followed the motion, lowering his head in respect. As he looked up, he took a good look at the man — he wasn’t much older than his own father. His eyes were dark brown, slightly round. His features were sharp, jaw set tight, his lower lip plumper than his upper lip. His brows were knit together, but still, there was a gentleness to his eyes. “He’d like to speak to us very briefly.”
The Mad King didn’t look mad, Yeonjun thought to himself. His eyes were focused, his appearance well kept. He smiled softly at Yeonjun, a glint hitting his eyes. A chill ran down the prince’s spine, and he shivered.
“Your highness is not very easily summoned, is he?” he spoke to Yeonjun, who nodded slowly. “It is not very elegant to arrive the way we did and I apologize, but I am afraid you would not see me unless I was made seen.”
Yeonjun's father opened a tight smile. “Perhaps next time leave the swords and the fire at the gates.”
The King’s smile grew wide. “We should hope there will not be a next time.”
“Fair,” Yeonjun’s father replied. “Your visits are always more enjoyable when you give us time to prepare.”
“I’ll make sure to send a note.” Across from Yeonjun, Beomgyu’s eyes were as wide as the moon. From the corner of his eye, he watched as his friend mouthed do not trust him. “I am a man with purpose, King Eunwoo.”
The king took another sip of his tea. “That I see. What is it exactly?”
The Mad King leaned forward and Yeonjun glued his back to his chair, tense. It did not go unnoticed by the Mad King, who arched an eyebrow. “Over the past hundred years, our kingdoms have coexisted peacefully. Our trade has been fair… until recently.”
“I believe you are mistaken.” Yeonjun's father was a diplomat by nature. Difficult conversations were where he thrived, so he smiled easily at the Mad King. “Thornsreach has been one of our most valuable partners. We have always been fair to you and your people,” and then, raising his glass to his lips again, “I’m afraid it wasn’t mutual.”
“Your majesty, you have been selling healing herbs to the kingdoms up north. We had an agreement.”
“No,” his father protested, “your highness and five other leaders have decided to isolate the northern communities. Our people have never taken part in that atrocious matter.”
The conversation had been strangely comfortable until that point. Yeonjun felt tension thick in the air, the sounds of people battling and begging for their lives still filled the room. He closed his eyes, not believing what was happening. The Mad King had broken into their home, destroyed their crops, burned down part of their forest for a trading matter. All of his life, Yeonjun had never had a reason to feel anything other than happiness. For the first time, he tasted metal on his tongue.
Beomgyu's eyes were on him, scared.
The Mad King stood up and leaned over the table, slamming his fist on the hard wood. The table shook in front of them. “Then your stance is clear. Your highness’ loyalty lies with the northern community?”
King Eunwoo’s hands were in front of his body. As he stood up, his eyes landed on Yeonjun. “My loyalty lies with whoever reciprocates it. Eternis and Thornsreach have been allies for centuries.”
“And yet,” Yeonjun could feel that the Mad King’s patience was wearing thin, “you chose to provide more for them than for our people. People who have stood for you and fed you.”
“They were in need,” was all that King Choi offered, “It is our duty to offer aid.”
The Mad King’s ears were turning red, his eyes turned into dangerous slits. Beomgyu had his hands gripped on the chair under him, his whole body shaking. Yeonjun's eyes searched for Beomgyu’s but the younger boy was disoriented, too much whispering making him scared and confused. Yeonjun wanted to hold his best friend’s hands and tell him to quit it, leave the whispers behind.
“It’s your duty to be loyal to those you have agreements with,” the Mad King bit back, “or I’ll have no choice but to take it by force. It is the law.”
Yeonjun was raised in a family full of love. His father, despite being the king, wished him good night with a forehead kiss. His mother hugged him tightly every day, showering Yeonjun with affection. Whenever Yeonjun made a mistake, his father would laugh softly and then teach Yeonjun the right way to do it. Yeonjun had never known violence, screaming, hurting. The only time Yeonjun had to hold a sword was during his training period, which lasted no more than six months.
It was disorientating to face such violence all at once, to hear the threat falling from the Mad King’s lips and to know, in his heart, that there were only two options to protect their people.
They could surrender. Stop helping the northern communities, let them starve and die of disease. But his father would never allow that to happen. Yeonjun’s father would rather put his family’s well-being at stake than sacrificing someone in need. Because that was what a leader was supposed to do, he often said.
Or, they could settle on an agreement. To show where their loyalty laid. Follow the tradition.
Yeonjun felt something bubbling in his stomach, acid threatening to make its way to his mouth. His palms started to sweat, no matter how many times he ran it over his pants, it never stopped. His hands felt clammy and his eyes were unfocused, his world spinning. How naive he had been, thinking that his father had called him to help in the negotiation. How stupidly innocent he had been to think that his father had finally thought he was ready to make decisions for the kingdom.
Yeonjun was there because he was a peace offering.
“Eternis has a tradition,” King Eunwoo started and his eyes were on Yeonjun. The king smiled and Yeonjun held in his tears, feeling betrayed and small. “A way to prove our loyalty, to join forces, and to make everything that is mine, yours.”
“The marriage,” the Mad King added, a smirk playing on his lips. His eyes fell on Yeonjun as well.
“Exactly. It is part of our tradition to offer our eldest as a spouse to the kingdoms we appreciate and hold dear.” Yeonjun felt dirty. His skin crawled and prickled at every word his father uttered, “And Thornsreach is a very important ally. Yeonjun,” he gestured to him with his open hand and a smile, “is my only child. I believe he’ll be a good match to your oldest son and an important bridge between our nations.”
“But father—”
Yeonjun tried to protest, but the words died on his lips as his father raised his hand and looked over at him with a stern gaze, one he only directed to Yeonjun when he was not willing to listen. His eyes fell on Beomgyu, who had wide eyes and mouth agape, not believing what they had just heard. All the nights they had spent sitting by the balcony under the soft moonlight, dreaming out loud about Yeonjun's future, plotting the changes they wanted to see in the very near future.
They had all been shattered by Yeonjun’s father just like they had feared. Everything because they were too good, too willing to share and to please. Yeonjun had wondered, once, if it was worth it — to give their produce, their knowledge, in exchange for so little. His father had a disappointed look on his eyes when he reprimanded him, saying that was just who they were. What they were supposed to do, their place in the world.
“We will have to discuss this arrangement in depth, Eunwoo,” the Mad King dropped the formalities, still smiling wickedly at Yeonjun. It was impossible for him to not stare back, to not hold his gaze. As the older man spoke, Yeonjun noticed he wore a very thin golden ring on his lip, which pierced the skin. His teeth clacked against the metal sometimes. “Our alliance is shaken as of now, you’ve broken our trust.”
“My father did no such thing,” Yeonjun’s voice trembled, but he stood his ground. He would not watch someone who stormed into his home, hurt his people, and was trying to take him as peace offering to spit lies against his own family and his people. “They’ve asked for help. We helped. That’s what we do. We would’ve done the same for your people.”
Yeonjun heard himself repeating his father’s words without meaning to, without his permission. That’s what we do, we help. We offer a hand, and take whatever they have to give us. We’re grateful. Yeonjun was grateful for many things. He was grateful for being surrounded by love and understanding. He was grateful for being born on a sunny day with flowers blooming. He was grateful to have Beomgyu by his side at all times, for listening. He was grateful for his sight, which allowed him to see more than most.
But Yeonjun was not grateful for being treated as a commodity. He couldn’t. When he was so much more, had so much to give, to contribute. He couldn’t offer his body, his heart, and mind to someone who was born from someone so vile, cold and violent. It made Yeonjun’s stomach twist and turn, needles poking his insides.
But he would never show weakness to someone who didn’t deserve to see this side of him.
The Mad King seemed amused by Yeonjun’s words, chuckling softly and crossing his arms over his chest.
“We’ll be leaving shortly,” his eyes were back on Yeonjun’s father. “I’ll discuss the terms with my council. You must do the same with yours. However,” his eyes flickered towards Yeonjun and then back to his father, “one thing is certain: the wedding will take place in Thornsreach.”
Across from him, Yeonjun watched as Beomgyu’s eyes were unfocused, but his hands were balled into fists by his side. On his right, his father’s mask of calmness had cracked and, for a split second, Yeonjun might have seen sadness and regret behind his composure. None of that would matter, because Yeonjun had already been sold to someone else, someone else’s home, someone else’s people. Everything for healing herbs and power. Was that all of his worth?
“The flowers bloom beautifully here during spring, and it is so warm. The wedding would be beautiful if we could celebrate it here, at the edge of the forest, under the jacaranda. All of your people are invited, of course.”
Yeonjun knew which tree his father was talking about. All of their home’s ceremonies were held under it, its purple petals decorating a narrow path forming an arch over their heads. It was one of the most beautiful places of their home, a sacred one. Yeonjun had witnessed true love bloom under that tree, promises of forever and families forming. It was a place of happiness, where Yeonjun felt the magic that surrounded their home in his bones. It was sacred, and he wouldn't let it be ruined by an unwanted, loveless marriage.
“Father,” he called and all three pairs of eyes were on him. “I’d rather preserve the forest,” he side-eyed King Kangdae, "It is a sacred place of love for our people, and I hold no love for the King’s son.”
It bothered Yeonjun to no end that King Kangdae had a permanent smirk glued to his lips. “The boy is right,” Yeonjun heard him saying. “Yeonjun will be part of Thornsreach, now. They must marry on our land,” his voice was firm, his sharp eyes on Yeonjun's father. "And that’s final. Either you agree with our terms, or I am afraid I will have to resort to more… unusual methods to open your eyes to your own mistakes.”
With a heavy sigh, King Eunwoo nodded. “It is settled, then. Yeonjun shall go to Thornsreach to marry your son.”
In the blink of an eye, Yeonjun’s life had completely changed. He had woken up that morning feeling light, excited to start his day. It felt so distant now, the feeling of certainty, of belonging. His eyes were on his father, who had betrayed him in the name of his people, the people he had sworn to protect at the young age of nine. He looked at his best friend, his brother, who had his head hanging low, avoiding him. He feared he had disappointed Beomgyu, who always looked at him with so much trust and admiration. Yeonjun had failed him, too.
The meeting ended as fast as it had been arranged, the Mad King leaving first but not before tapping Yeonjun on the shoulder and whispering “welcome to the family” in his ear on his way out. The three of them stayed and listened as the fight outside died down, horses neighing loudly carrying soldiers through the forest. They watched, from the large balcony facing the table, as all that was left was the wounded and the smoke.
Yeonjun wanted to cry again. That was not what his home was supposed to be like, to feel like. The streets filled with wounded, torn bodies was not something that belonged there. The dark clouds over their heads and the stench of blood hung above their head like a bad omen. Everything felt wrong to Yeonjun, and his father would say they saved their people. Yeonjun believed they had forever doomed Eternis by uniting their bloodlines.
It was a mistake.
“Yeonjun, my son.”
The tears Yeonjun had been holding during the meeting fell from his eyes. He couldn’t hold them back anymore. “You sold me,” his voice was a whisper, so much it ached to finally accept what was going to happen. What his destiny would be. “You sold me without thinking of a second option. I thought you loved me.”
“I love you, I do!”
Yeonjun knew his father spoke the truth. He looked at him, and there was nothing but him standing there, with his arms open towards Yeonjun, calling him. Shaking his head, Yeonjun stepped back and in the process almost knocked the chair behind him. He stumbled, but got back on his feet quickly.
“How could you do it so easily?” he had to ask. His father had not even once considered something else. Not even once considered halting the supply of herbs to other realms in exchange for keeping his son home. “I’m your only child.”
“That's what we do, Yeonjun.” There it was again. It didn’t go unnoticed by Yeonjun how his father had ignored his question, because he knew better than to lie to Yeonjun. The lack of a proper answer was an answer in itself. “It’s the tradition. It would've happened sooner or later.”
No, it would not.
Because Yeonjun would make everything different from his parents, and their parents and from everyone who came before him.
Yeonjun left the room with a purpose: to cancel this marriage and set a new agreement with Thronsreach. With Beomgyu’s hand in his, he walked back to his room and locked the door behind them so no one could hear him.
“I am not leaving,” he whispered, looking into Beomgyu’s eyes. “I won’t marry Kangdae's son. I have a plan.”
Beomgyu had always supported Yeonjun in his endeavors. This time, however, he seemed reluctant. His eyebrows were pitched together in worry. “It’s not the time to be reckless, Yeonjun. Your father has already promised your hand to the king’s son. Promises are serious.”
“This was not made with blood, was it?” Yeonjun retorted, squeezing his friends fingers.
Beomgyu frowned, averting Yeonjun’s gaze. With his free hand, he scratched his nape. “A word is everything a man has. If he doesn’t keep it, then, what is he worth? Nothing. You have to keep your word, Jun.”
“Do you want me to go and marry some crazy, sadistic prince?” Yeonjun was understanding, but he was also frustrated. “I didn’t promise a thing!”
“But you did not protest.”
“I wasn’t allowed to! You were there!” Yeonjun’s frustration grew each time Beomgyu spoke truth after truth. He did not protest, but he tried to. He was silenced as he often was by his father in important decisions. In this case, they had decided for him about his life. It was infuriating.
“Yeonjun, there’s more at stake here than just your happiness,” and there it was again. Beomgyu bringing him back by the foot, throwing Yeonjun on the cold floor. “Marriage is how our people settle agreements. If you don’t do it, you will put all of us in danger.”
“I won’t,” Yeonjun promised, “but I need help to make this work.”
Beomgyu did not look convinced. His eyes were on the floor, following the intricate pattern of the wooden floor. But Yeonjun knew him better than anyone and Beomgyu knew his dreams, his plans, and had faith in them.
Beomgyu looked at him warily. “Help, how?”
It was not a yes, at least not yet. But at least he was willing to hear, and all Yeonjun needed was for someone to listen. Before the words fell from his lips, Beomgyu was already reacting to his idea, shaking his head.
“I could be taken away for doing it, Jun. It’s too dangerous.”
But Yeonjun was desperate. He held Beomgyu’s hands in his, begging. “Please, please. You’re the only one who can do it. You’re the only person I trust.”
Beomgyu side-eyed him for a few seconds before asking. “And how can I know it is not a lie? You won’t be hearing it straight from the source.”
“We investigate,” Yeonjun shrugged, “rumors are rumors. All I need is for you to listen. And listen well.”
☾
Soobin was… dejected.
Three days ago, his father had marched towards Eternis with a small but lethal army on his flanks. Soobin had been against it. He saw no reason to attack an ally. His father, however, had something different in mind — attacking first, reaching an agreement later. Soobin was very familiar with the strategy: to make them scared, corner them up until there was no way out but to give them what they wanted. It was unusual for their council to go against his father’s wishes, much to Soobin’s exasperation. But Soobin had learned to listen and to analyze, to not go directly against what his father believed or wanted, but to make him want something else. Believe something else. This time he had no time to do so. Before he had known, he was watching them leave with the promise of a stronger alliance.
For the past three days, Taehyun has kept him company: following Soobin to council meetings, to the dining hall for lunch and supper, sometimes even to the gates, where Soobin liked to stay to watch the sunset. The guards stopped throwing questioning looks at Soobin a long time ago, just bowing to him and moving on with their duties. And Taehyun was there, breathing on his neck, keeping Soobin under his watchful gaze. Any other day, it wouldn’t bother Soobin, he had grown used to it. Taehyun had always been his companion, and one day, when Soobin became king, Taehyun would be named his Right Hand.
This morning, they were called into one of the meeting rooms to discuss new arrangements and agreements they had been working on. Two kingdoms up north were facing loss of crops and under severe threat from having their land invaded by a large group of savages. Taehyun had greeted Soobin early, eyes round and reading his every move, studying his mood. At first, he paid his friend no mind. It was simply who he was: forever observant, constantly ready.
But as he made his way to the hall and Taehyun followed suit, Soobin felt his mood sour. He could have stopped in his tracks and confronted his friend, demanding what the issue was. But a sudden commotion at the front gates called their attention, his distress quickly pushed aside. By his side he watched as Huening Kai ran past him, his boots clacking against the floor. Soobin met Taehyun’s eyes as they followed, curious to see what was the cause of all that.
“Father!” Huening Kai chirped, a smile on his lips. “Back so soon, the negotiations must have gone well!”
The king had a soft smile playing on his lips as he got off his horse, making his way to his youngest. Huening opened his arms and hugged their father warmly, but shortly. Both moved their bodies back, but the king’s hands were on Huening Kai's shoulders, looking at him with genuine glee.
Soobin didn’t fall for those smiles and eyes turned into small crescents, the wrinkles giving away his father’s years of experience. It had only been three days since he had left, Eternis was a day and a half away. They must have surrendered immediately or, worst case scenario, many lives were taken. Eternis did not have an army like they did, their king thrived on pacifism, on bargain, on giving their precious things away to keep the peace. In Soobin’s opinion, they were all cowards. They had knowledge and literal magic on their side, but they still chose to give away what they had just to be left alone.
“King Eunwoo is a reasonable man,” his father’s eyes were on him. They handed the horses back to the servants, and suddenly there was a large hand on Soobin’s shoulder, pulling him closer and forcing him to make his way back to the main hall. “He understood why I had to do what I did.”
Eyes on the floor, Soobin watched as the red-tinted earth turned into polished cement under his feet. “So he has agreed to stop sending the herbs to the Northern kingdoms?” Soobin asked.
“I’m afraid not, son.”
Soobin was confused. He stopped, turning to his father. “Then why do you look satisfied?”
“Because I got more than I originally intended for,” his father said simply, the smile still playing on his lips. Soobin knew how much he looked like his father, they were almost identical. It made his stomach fold in itself every time his father smiled like that, it was wicked.
“I don't get it,” it was Huening Kai who voiced their confusion, “is he finally sending one of his healers here? We really need someone to help out. The herbs run out pretty fast, we can’t keep using them for a headache or a scraped knee.”
“Not a healer,” it sent shivers to Soobin’s spine, the way his father looked at him as he spoke. “Soobin, can you come with me for a minute?”
Huening Kai’s raised eyebrow at him made him sour all over again.
So suggestive, he thought. The prince might be younger and pretend he wasn’t keeping up with the world, but Soobin knew better. They were the same blood and same mind, it ran in the family. So, when his brother shot him a mocking gaze, wiggling his eyebrows, Soobin punched his shoulder. Huening Kai groaned in pain, curling around himself.
“What was that for?” he whined, stepping away from Soobin. Their father watched them, amused.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’ll rip your eyes out in your sleep.”
The younger prince wasn’t fazed, instead he showed Soobin his tongue. "You can’t do that, did you know that you need the eyes open in order to do that? Yeah. You should pay more attention to what Namjoon says during our lessons.”
“Shut up,” Soobin hissed, his fist curled again and aimed towards Huening Kai’s stomach this time. Huening Kai curled into himself again, ready to dodge the hit.
The hit never came, their father clearing his throat loudly. “Follow me. Kai, you go with Taehyun and find Sunoo.”
“Sunoo, your highness?” Taehyun’s eyes were an entity of their own. Round and dark, they spoke of what Taehyun’s heart was full of, always easy for Soobin to read. Taehyun's eyes met Soobin’s and they shared a look of confusion. “What should I tell him?”
“That he must come see me and Soobin in ten minutes, in my office. We’ve got a lot to prepare.”
Soobin had grown up watching his father deal with all kinds of people. When he was only five, a group of beggars had banged on their doors, crying for water, food and shelter. His father had welcomed them, given them a roof and clean clothes in exchange for their work. When he was eleven, they had made an agreement with a distant kingdom. They sent one of their council members, someone they claimed to be talented and that would help the king achieve all of his goals. His father caught the man stealing and sleeping with a married woman. Soobin was too young to understand this last part, but he understood very well when the man was sentenced to death by hanging in front of their people and his head was sent in a box to this kingdom. All the while, his father had always been direct. He never lied, never played games, always straight to the point.
If there was something he wanted, he conquered it, no matter what his council told him. No matter the consequences, if it would kill an entire village, so be it. To his father, that was just collateral damage.
So it made him unsettled and uncomfortable following his father to the office not knowing what this was about. Not knowing what he had done to Eternis, how he had handled their poor choices. Still, he followed his father through their home, their steps echoing in the halls. They greeted the guards, walked through a small and well-kept garden that separated the common areas from the private ones and opened the heavy wooden doors to his father's study.
“Father,” Soobin called softly as they stepped inside. His father hummed, walking towards one of his chairs and pouring himself some water. He offered some to Soobin, who politely declined with a shake of his head. “Is Eternis still an ally?”
It was a valid question. His army could’ve erased it from the face of Earth had that been his father’s wish. “More than ever, son,” was his father's response, which only added to Soobin’s confusion.
“But you said they refused to stop supplying the herbs to the banned kingdoms. How can we keep them as allies if they go against your word?”
“He said he was helping,” the king rolled his eyes as he fell on the chair with a groan. “But he was scared, too, and made me a very good offer.”
“Which was…?”
“His only child,” his father’s eyes were on Soobin, hard and analytical as it often was when he was dealing with politics. "They have this tradition…”
“To settle political conflicts through marriage,” Soobin said matter-of-factly. Soobin knew it very well, had studied when he was still getting lessons from Namjoon.
His father clicked his tongue, “To survive by sacrificing their own blood,” then he sighed, “They never learn.”
“And you said yes? Offered Huening Kai easily like that, father?” some sort of rebellion started simmering inside his chest. Kai was young, had a lot to learn, a lot to live. It wasn’t fair that he would be given away into a marriage he didn’t ask for. That was not how they proceeded, that was not what was expected from them. In centuries of their history, there were only a handful of arranged marriages.
And all of them had ended in tragedies.
The king’s brows furrowed, his lips formed a thin line and his eyes were on Soobin. He watched Soobin, in silence, waiting for something.
Oh.
It wasn’t Huening Kai's hand he had offered.
“You offered me, didn’t you?”
Anger was blinding and Soobin had crafted his self control for years and years. In fact, he worked on it to this day, training it, keeping it on a leash. When his vision turned red and his hands balled into fists on their own, Soobin tried to breathe. He tried to remember everything he had seen, everything anger had made him witness. And he held back, he always took a step back. He ran to Taehyun, and they would let all the anger out in matches, punching and going at each other mercilessly sometimes for hours on end.
At the end of their matches, Soobin would cry and scream into his fists. But only Taehyun saw that side of him. Saw his busted lip, the ring on it that marked his status hurting him — a constant reminder of who he was, what he was capable of and what he had to take control of.
But Taehyun wasn’t there and he wasn't afraid of his father. He didn’t try to fight against the anger that bubbled inside his chest, that made him take exactly four long strides and stop right in front of his father. He didn't bother to think what it would mean to grab one of his father's daggers displayed on the large desk that separated them, and lean over and point it to his father’s face.
“I won’t go through with this,” Soobin hissed, “You had no right to sell me like this. This is not what our people do. We’re not cowards like them.”
Despite the blade almost brushing his nose, the king seemed unfazed by Soobin’s threat. “You’re right, we conquer what's ours. And that’s how we will make Eternis ours, from now on.”
Soobin wanted to laugh. Had he gone crazy already? His father was almost fifty, the madness did run in the family, but it usually hit at the age of thirty-two. Soobin thought his father had been an exception, that they were finally free from the curse. But apparently Soobin had been wrong all along.
“No!” Soobin protested.
The king moved on the chair and Soobin’s blade was pressed against the king’s cheek. “What should I do, hm, Soobin? Should I do like I did yesterday, set fire to everything? Swing my sword and tear bodies apart left and right? Is that what you want? Because that’s what people say about you.”
“There are other ways!” he protested again, his voice growing louder.
His father’s gaze was hard on Soobin. He stood up slowly and the blade followed. They were both facing each other, leaning against the desk. The king grabbed Soobin’s hand, pressing it harder against his cheek. Soobin watched as it poked the skin, drawing blood. It pooled against the blade and fell, slowly.
“I bet you want to ride with me, see the land falling at our feet. You enjoy it. The rumors are true, aren't they, Soobinie?”
“They are not,” it was a punch to his stomach. To have his own father listening to what people said about him, all baseless rumors. It hurt to know Soobin was the bad guy, the bogeyman of children’s nightmares. “They’re not,” he repeated.
“Then do as I say, or I’ll take you myself to conquer what’s ours by force.”
“Father—”
“And you better start writing to Eunwoo's son soon, court him. It is about time you try to clean your reputation.”
Soobin couldn't stand being there anymore. His vision was blurred, red tinting everything. His breathing was troubled, his chest heaving for air. He dropped the blade and made his way out there, leaving a satisfied ruler behind.
Once he had crossed the garden, he started to run. He had to find Taehyun.