Chapter Text
Gentle waves washed towards a coastal town and a small rowboat bobbed with the morning tide. The sun had only just begun to show its face above the eastern horizon, and it shone on Wooyoung’s back as he pulled into the docks in front of him.
The ship that had taken him this far south was anchored just behind and as he was graciously ferried inland, Wooyoung kept a hawklike watch on the coastline ahead of him.
This was the southernmost city before the border with Haemin, the enemy kingdom they were now at war with. It was risky to travel this far south, but Wooyoung had a feeling in his gut that he was close.
San had been here recently.
Wooyoung had followed him all the way down the coastline without catching up to him, and his mind warned that it was a silly feeling, this surety of his proximity to San.
Who was to say he hadn’t travelled far inland by now, hiding out in some generous old woman’s shack?
It had been one month since they separated. He might even have a steady job and a house by now.
Wooyoung shook his head and focused on the town in front of him. Something was telling him San was close, and there weren’t any other leads to go on, so he listened.
He was hiking up a cobblestone road with his bag slung over his shoulder, scanning faces and searching the wanted signs plastered to walls and windows just like he did in every town.
It was conflicting to look at a row of drawings and recognise none of the faces. Wooyoung told himself it was a good thing none of the crew had been identified and hunted down, but at the same time he pleaded for a sign that they were alive and causing trouble.
“You there!” A voice in Wooyoung’s ear shook him out of his musings. “Looking for some action?”
A tall, burly man was smirking at him and invading his space a tad too much for Wooyoung’s liking. “No, I’m not,” he answered, backing away. He felt himself bump into another solid mass and whipped around.
It was another man. He was surrounded.
“The Navy is always looking for sailors,” the second man sang, raising his eyebrows in expectation. “Ever been at sea?”
“Not interested,” Wooyoung shot back. They were a press gang, and that was the last thing he needed. “If you’ll excuse me...”
Before either man could respond, he sprinted past them and up the street.
Shouts broke out behind him and Wooyoung had no doubt they were chasing after him.
He had to appreciate the irony, that after all that time attempting to become a naval officer, all it took was a war breaking out for the men to press him into service against his will.
Hearing their angry huffs behind him, Wooyoung made a sharp turn into an alleyway to lose them.
The houses were jumbled together and the screams of civilians threatened to give away his position, so Wooyoung ducked into a pub and sat down forcefully at a table off to the side, keeping his head down while the pair of men entered behind him.
“Nice try,” a voice cackled behind him.
Wooyoung whipped around to see none other than a naval officer sitting at the table where he’d landed himself.
“Wait—“
It was no use. The moment he stood up to escape, the other two were onto him.
Wooyoung didn’t resist as a black bag was pulled over his head.
He heard the snickering of the captors and the ring of coins hitting the bar table.
“Sorry for the mess,” the officer addressed the bartender before arms were restraining Wooyoung’s and he was being led outside.
He knew where they were taking him.
The Royal Navy.
...
“Hello there.”
Seonghwa opened his eyes to the familiar wooden bones of the ATEEZ. He was laying in the infirmary with a gunshot wound in his midsection and that was Hongjoong’s voice waking him up.
He was rubbing his arm gently enough that it didn’t hurt him but purposefully enough that it woke him.
Seonghwa’s brows furrowed together.
“I brought you a book!” Hongjoong whispered, waving it in front of his face and flopping down in the chair by his bedside. “Getting shot is boring.”
This was a memory, then.
Seonghwa smiled his thanks and accepted it gratefully, just as he had the day it occurred.
“How are you feeling?” Hongjoong asked with a tilt of his head. “All the action on deck didn’t disturb you, I hope?”
Seonghwa shook his head and pointed to his bandages. “Actually, I think the wound is clean enough to stitch up.”
“Are you asking me to do it?” Hongjoong teased, already fetching the supplies.
He was, actually.
Some part of him knew deep down that it was just a memory, but he clung to it while he was there.
Maybe he should have appreciated it more in the moment, but his thoughts had been on himself.
“Ew...” Hongjoong leaned away from the smell emanating from the wound after he unwrapped it and threaded his needle quickly. “Maybe I should have left this task to San.”
Seonghwa smacked him lightly on the arm as he theatrically pinched his nose before cracking the book open, eager for a distraction as Hongjoong’s needle pulled on his skin and threaded him back together.
“I still think I’ll send San in to change the bandages later. But do call someone if the pain becomes unmanageable,” Hongjoong ordered, sitting back once his job was finished.
That’s right. San comes in next while Hongjoong goes to decipher Eden’s map, and he confesses to shooting him...
“You’re no use to me dead, you know,” Hongjoong said with a smile. It was a bit of a jest between them, a line that Hongjoong had said when he’d first spared his life, when he’d taught him to defend himself, and now when Seonghwa had actually come close to being dead.
Seonghwa rolled his eyes, suppressing a chuckle. He didn’t want to disturb his newly sealed wound.
He wanted to throw his words back at him, but he couldn’t open his mouth and say them. They weren’t said in the moment, and the moment was long gone.
Hongjoong got up to leave, rinsing his hands off and returning the needle and thread to their homes, and Seonghwa wanted so badly to ask him to stay.
Or was he always doomed simply to relive the memories they had both existed in? And wish he had used his time more wisely, been kinder, acted firmer, learned faster, served better, held closer...
The list could go on forever.
Yet the moment Hongjoong closed the door behind him, Seonghwa was awake again, in a bedroom about three times larger than their room on the ATEEZ.
The sun hadn’t risen yet but Seonghwa knew it was about to. He slipped into a robe and went to open the thick full length curtains, suspicions confirmed. It was the time of the watch he normally took aboard the ATEEZ, and waking for it was a habit he couldn’t shake. Nor was it one he wanted to.
The capital city of Doljeon stirred into liveliness far beneath him and even after a month of living there it looked as foreign as ever.
That month had been hectic in every way imaginable, yet to Seonghwa, it was all just buzz in a world he travelled as a stranger.
Junhee gave him what he deemed to be enough time to recover after the execution before he cupped his face one day and asked him if he would try his hardest to smile again.
The first time he attempted to run back to the square in Namhae, his bodyguard had caught him.
The second time he made it as far as the wreckage of the town hall and realised there was no way Hongjoong was still there.
Seonghwa insisted on seeing the body, on being allowed to bury him, but according to the Admiral he was already gibbeted and hung from the docks.
Seonghwa looked for him as they left on a royal ship back to the mainland to deal with the mountain of problems growing at the capital, leaning out over the railing with his heart in his throat, but it was high tide and only the top of the cage was visible.
Junhee’s grip on him was tight, preventing Seonghwa from jumping in the water to whatever end. He was the king now and he would need his brother by his side.
Seonghwa had sent a servant to the inn to find out what had become of Wooyoung, and the report returned that he had packed up and headed out. Seonghwa had no idea where to.
He was alone now, with no other foreseeable future than to follow the path set before him. The path back to Doljeon.
Seonghwa remembered the city, even this very palace. But the eyes he viewed it through had seen so much since those days, and he had no idea how to survive here.
Junhee saddled him with lesson upon lesson of princely manners, behaviour, knowledge, virtues, politics, even military strategy. He meant for him to be his aid in the war that had broken out so suddenly, and so far to Seonghwa it meant standing by his side and pretending he was happy, acting more than ever before.
He stood by Junhee’s side at the funeral of their father, a man Seonghwa hardly remembered. He stood by Junhee’s side as he was declared sovereign ruler and greeted by officials and aristocrats. He stood by Junhee’s side as he was married to the new queen, a relationship that took up more and more of his brother’s time and attention.
Today, he would stand by Junhee’s side as he met with the generals and admirals for updates from the warfront. It was his least favourite job because it put him face to face with Kim, that villainous murderer, the one person Seonghwa truly hated with every ounce of his being.
Next week, Seonghwa would stand by himself at his own coronation, assuming it wasn’t postponed. According to the mandates, he wasn’t officially Crown Prince Seonghwa of Jaecho, strongest empire under the sun, until he had been coronated in accordance with the traditions, an event that had been put off for more important ones.
Junhee had given him a paper of acceptably rich and important candidates for the guest list, allowing him to select and invite them himself, but there was only one Seonghwa was looking for.
As he picked it up off the small table next to the window, he couldn’t help but notice the names of the entire flock of court ladies present, but even as he skimmed the list twice, he did not see the person he wanted to.
Yeosang.
“Your Highness?”
A knock and gentle voice at the door interrupted his thoughts. “I’ve brought breakfast, and the King requests your presence in the meeting hall as soon as you’re finished.”
It was one of the servants. Seonghwa had many of them now, and he tried to remember all their names and stories but he found it difficult to focus for more than a few minutes when someone was talking to him now.
Something always turned his thoughts to the sea, and the ghosts he left behind in her waters.
He accepted the ornately decorated tray with thanks and watched the blushing girl scurry out once he dismissed her, only to pick at his food while he watched the sunrise.
It made no difference how much of it he ate, he still had to go to the war meeting when he was summoned for it.
“He’s going to be there, isn’t he?” Seonghwa muttered rhetorically as he walked alongside Junhee to the main meeting hall.
“You know I can’t just banish him,” Junhee sighed tiredly, smiling at the concerned bodyguard who followed them. He’d been sighing a lot lately. “Admiral Kim is one of our best, and we need his naval strategies more than ever right now.”
Seonghwa glowered in the corner through the entire opening remarks once they were all situated. It wasn’t until Junhee cleared his throat that he remembered his image as the prince and tried to relax.
Easier said than done when Hongjoong’s murderer was the one laughing obnoxiously and making small talk over gourmet cuisine and weather changes right in front of him.
Seonghwa balled his hand into a fist and tried to breathe.
“Shall we begin?” Junhee broke into the men’s conversation and watched them order themselves and take their positions at the table.
Again Seonghwa’s thoughts wander to Yeosang as the men move their little wooden ships around on the map and propose different strikes and missions.
He was probably trapped at home, cooped up like a prisoner at his father’s wishes. Seonghwa could hardly complain when he considered what Yeosang was facing.
But still his stomach turned at the confidence radiating from that monster Kim while he discussed his plan of attack.
When the meeting was over, Seonghwa needed a good long soak to distract himself. The servants went wild with scented bubbles, flower petals, even some distant music coming from somewhere, but Seonghwa didn’t care.
The moment his head leaned back, he closed his eyes.
It was so much better to just pretend all this had never happened.
...
Yeosang tapped his foot idly while he sat for his brand new portrait. He didn’t ask to be painted and he didn’t want to be here, but the artist was so focused on his work, he didn’t want to make it harder on him.
He tried to still his foot, but a few moments later it was at its tapping again.
That’s how it was being here. Trapped, like a caged animal, restless energy bouncing off every wall yet unable to go anywhere.
The young painter finally sat back to examine his work before turning the easel for Yeosang to see. It was an undisputed likeness, from his jawline to his hair to the tired look in his eyes.
Reluctantly, Yeosang nodded his approval and watched the artist place it on the wall next to an older painting.
There he was in that portrait of him and his father side-by-side that had been unveiled the day he left home. That boy, that young boy who rode from the estate determined to make the world a better place, was dead.
This Yeosang was all that remained.
A stone statue, watching and waiting until the day he was given his freedom.
“Gallivanting with pirates,” the Navigator had declared with a defeated chuckle when he finally got around to lecturing his son. “Is that what the children do nowadays?”
“Is that what Admiral Kim told you?” Yeosang muttered dryly. This could still play out to his advantage.
“It doesn’t matter where the information came from. There is no excuse!” Father snapped, finally releasing his anger about the situation. “Si-Hyuk told me how you stole his maps. If you try to spin this as anything other than a complete and utter betrayal, you’ll find my forgiveness that much harder to earn.”
Yeosang ground his teeth together in frustration. He didn’t want forgiveness. He wanted freedom. His father was still going on.
“You have disrespected me. You have disrespected my house. Everything I worked for, everything I trained you for. And for what?”
“I have the favour of the king!” Yeosang interjected. Surely that meant something? “You can’t keep me locked up here. His brother, the prince, will want to speak with me.”
“Then unless the king summons you,” his father bit back, eyes narrowing as he doled out what he believed to be fit punishment. “Here is exactly where you stay.”
So here he was. Sitting around doing nothing all day while his father corresponded with the Admirals and prepared for war.
It wasn’t just dull, it was anxiety-inducing. Where the others were and what had become of them was a complete mystery to him and all he could do was check the mail and gaze out his window for the rescue he had been promised.
“How do you like it, sir?” The artist asked, adjusting the painting to fit perfectly in the line of others.
“It’s very well done, thank you,” Yeosang complimented, sincere even though his voice was dry. “My father will be home shortly to discuss payment.”
The young man nodded and packed his equipment. “Is there anywhere in particular that I should stay to wait for him?”
Yeosang looked at him for a minute before gesturing to one of the sofas. This was an opportunity.
“Here is just fine. Tell me, what was your name again?”
The artist wasn’t here for a friendly visit with Yeosang, but he was showing more promise than any of the barely tolerable guests that came from outside.
“Oh, it’s Donghyun, sir...” the man answered haltingly, no doubt confused that a member of the aristocracy such as Yeosang was treating him like a human being. “My master is Kwangsuk, though I suspect he’ll be retiring soon.”
“Kwangsuk?” Yeosang recognised the name. “Kwangsuk painted this other portrait here.”
The one of him and his father. He tried not to look at it.
“He’s the greatest, isn’t he?” Donghyun sighed with admiration, finally at ease now that he had been asked about his passion. “I met him at the palace actually— well, it’s a long story.”
“The palace?” Yeosang sat on the sofa opposite the painter. “You’re from the capital?”
Donghyun nodded. “I grew up there, but Master’s residence is on Namhae, so that’s where I stay now unless I’m called for a commission.”
Yeosang’s heart stopped. “Namhae?” This was it, this was his chance for news. He’d heard nothing since his father had closed him off here, but perhaps after today he would be able to do something.
“Yes,” Donghyun smiled and continued on cheerfully, “Have you been?”
“I—“ the words caught in his throat. “Yes, I was there about a month ago.”
Donghyun tutted and shook his head sadly. “It was a horrible shame, everything that happened there.”
Yeosang gripped the seat with white knuckled fists. “Tell me.”
...
Wooyoung could tell before they even pulled the bag off his head that he was aboard a Navy ship.
“Welcome aboard the Indeok,” the voice of his captor announced as he pulled the cloth away. “Finest ship in the King’s Navy, for she’s named after our beloved Queen Consort.”
Admiral Kim would probably have argued that his ship of the line, the Black Crow, was far superior, but thanks be to every deity that was out there that Wooyoung hadn’t ended up with that weasel of a man.
“You’ll be serving with the gun teams,” the man continued, pulling Wooyoung along after him. “That’s where we need the men.”
The Indeok was a three masted, fully gunned, 32 gun frigate not suited for direct combat with a larger ship of the line, but Wooyoung’s guess was that she served as an escort or a scout ship.
An unlucky break, but better than being on a flagship.
There was a familiar, almost sentimental feeling building in Wooyoung as he was shown around, brought to his quarters, and left to his own devices.
It reminded him of Jongho’s tour through the ATEEZ, meeting the other officers, the whirlwind of a time he’d had serving just the first day alone. The way he had resisted them with all his might but had been brought into the fold and accepted into the pirate life. The life he never thought he would live. The life that had been taken from him, just like that.
There was a whisper at the back of his mind that he should simply accept what had happened and move on. The next ship, the next battle. Survive, like he always had.
Things were always changing, and that was the very reason why it had taken him so long to get attached to the ATEEZ.
But he missed them, all of them. He knew what he wanted out of life now, and all the King’s Navy and all the enemy’s soldiers couldn’t keep him from finding it. From finding them.
“Come on, snots,” another officer barked down into the hold where Wooyoung sat with a dozen other conscripted men.
“Time to meet your superior officers.”
...
Seonghwa’s smile was for the lords and ladies as he walked down the aisle gracefully toward the throne. It wasn’t for himself.
He was nervous enough that he thought he might lose his breakfast before the crown ever landed on his head but Junhee’s encouraging nod settled him long enough to get the next foot in front of him.
Seonghwa knelt before his brother, the king, just as they’d practiced before and felt the weight of the golden crown as it was pressed firmly on to him and his name was uttered for the world to know.
It was a relieved smile that he flashed for the audience this time when he stood and bowed for their applause, but the smile dropped when everything suddenly went silent.
The dazzling men and women became statues, even Junhee and his wife beside him froze and turned their heads to the doors.
“What is it?” Seonghwa whispered, stepping down from the dais and crossing the distance. No one answered him.
When he slid open the door, he was met with the reason.
A figure lay, bleeding out on the immaculate marble floor. It was Hongjoong.
“What is this?” Seonghwa choked, struck into stillness himself for a moment before rushing forward and gathering his captain in his arms. “What’s going on, how are you here?”
Hongjoong opened and focused his eyes slowly. They were missing a spark of life, and Seonghwa was horrified by them. “I tried to make it,” Hongjoong said so softly, Seonghwa wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination that he had said anything at all.
Through his tears, he watched Hongjoong’s shaking hand reach up toward his face.
He clamped it in his own to guide it to his cheek, and it was cold and dead, but Hongjoong wrenched it away and continued stretching it up, hesitating a moment before his fingers touched the crown that rested on Seonghwa’s hair.
Like magic, the band suddenly melted into liquid gold, running down Seonghwa’s face with the rest of his tears. His breaths came out quickly in a panic as he lifted his free hand to the sticky substance on his head.
When he looked back down at Hongjoong, it was too late. He was gone.
“No, wait...” he inhaled sharply and reached with shaking hands towards Hongjoong’s head, tilted back and lifeless. His hand had dropped to the side. “No, no, no, please don’t go!”
Hongjoong didn’t answer. And how could he? None of this was real, and if it was, it wasn’t any better than his previous reality.
The blood was literally on his hands.
“Please,” Seonghwa sobbed, crushing the dead body against his. It was pure guilt that was coursing through his veins now, his own shame keeping him alive long enough to fully regret his failure. “Please, I want to stay... I want to stay with the ATEEZ, with you. Don’t leave me...”
Everyone had left him.
“Don’t leave me...” Seonghwa whispered to himself before opening his eyes. He lay in the middle of the bath chambers, petals swirling around his shivering form and goose flesh covering his skin.
It was only a nightmare, but it might as well have been the truth.
He still had a week until his coronation, but after what he’d just seen it was almost better to run away from the golden crown completely.
Still, he needed Yeosang.
So he called for the attendant girl, and tried to ignore how she blushed again even harder when she presented another finely crafted robe for him.
He had just enough time to dry off before a summoning came from the throne room. Good timing for once.
Junhee was slouched in his throne and all others were dismissed the moment Seonghwa entered and kneeled respectfully. A pit began to form in his stomach. This was suspicious.
“Let us speak plainly, as brothers, for once.”
Seonghwa stood and looked up hesitantly.
“You’ve been distant, Seonghwa.”
He swallowed and inclined his head to acknowledge it. Distant was putting it lightly.
“I understand your pain and I want to help you. I thought maybe to offer you company but you know how busy I am with affairs of state, so I decided instead it might be better for me to introduce you to some of the court ladies, and see if any strike your fancy.”
“Junhee—“
“Let me finish,” he chided, much too gently for a king, before going on. “I know how it feels to be paired with someone against your will, so I will not arrange your marriage. However, we are at war. If you consider it your duty to serve your kingdom, I hope you’ll consider choosing a wife from a neighbouring ally.”
“Junhee, with all due respect,” Seonghwa sighed. “I just want my friends back.”
Junhee sat back in his throne and pinched his nose. It wasn’t an outright refusal so Seonghwa took it as a sign to continue.
“In time, I’ll be ready for marriage, but right now I don’t even know if they’re alive—“
“Seonghwa, you came to me as the lost prince,” Junhee interrupted, his voice low and tired. “You used my power— used me— to speak for your pirate captors. You’ve enjoyed the best comforts of the kingdom that I can provide, and I’ve asked for nothing but cooperation from you in return. Don’t ask me to raise the dead. It cannot be done.”
A tear hit the floor at Seonghwa’s feet. Junhee was right.
He had taken advantage of his brother’s love and given nothing back to him. Not even a smile when they were alone and there was no pressing speech to give or war meeting to attend.
Seonghwa did not deserve to be prince.
A hand on his shoulder lifted his gaze to see Junhee standing in front of him, smiling sadly.
“Marry when you’re ready to, Seonghwa. I just want you to be happy,” he sighed, searching his face before releasing him and leaving the room, his robes trailing behind him.
“Junhee, wait!”
The fabric swirled around as the king came to a stop, turning towards Seonghwa with a hopeful glint in his eye.
“There is one. One of my companions whom I believe is alive... if you would not object to finding him for me. I want him at my coronation.”
Junhee held his gaze a moment longer before nodding. “What is his name?”
“He’s the son of the Head Navigator,” Seonghwa told him, words rushing out excitedly.
“His name is Yeosang. Kang Yeosang.”
...
“An execution, war breaking out, the prince’s return... and you were there for all of it?” Yeosang repeated as Donghyun nodded eagerly. He had a cup of tea now, served to him by a new maid Yeosang didn’t recognise while he told the story.
“It was an action-packed week, let me tell you, Namhae is small and peaceful, not much happens there, and the whole town was just excited that the king— crown prince at the time— was coming to meet his betrothed,” Donghyun chattered on. “And then, what do you know but a midnight raid reveals a nest of pirates the very same night that the true second prince comes to see his brother. Then, news of the late king’s assassination and an invasion of Haemin soldiers in the middle of the execution is barely fought off by the royal guards themselves. And then, I had to pack up and travel to meet a client the next week. What a wild time.”
He sighed and leaned back in his seat, as if he was remembering the good old times and not some of Yeosang’s darkest days. It was all just a matter of perspective.
“Did you say the middle of the execution?” He had to be sure of this detail. It seemed that somehow the sudden battle was part of Hongjoong’s mysterious plan, but unless it had actually saved his life... Yeosang couldn’t be sure.
“Well,” Donghyun laughed. “I wasn’t there personally in the square that day, so...”
“So you can’t be sure,” Yeosang finished for him quickly. “You don’t know if he’s dead or alive, the pirate.”
Donghyun didn’t notice his host’s strong distress and shrugged before taking a sip of his drink. “I think if he’d survived they probably would’ve had a second execution, don’t you?”
Yeosang stood and began walking toward the door. He didn’t want to break down here, not in front of this stranger.
Donghyun’s voice followed after him. “Sir...?”
Oh, of course. Yeosang had forgotten his manners. “I have matters to attend to, but Father will be here within the hour.” He stopped and threw one last comment over his shoulder.
“By the way it was hardly a pirate nest. Just a small band.”
Yeosang ignored the confused noise that followed him out and hurried to his room, locking himself in and collapsing on his bed.
He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes to hold the tears at bay, but it was no use.
Everything had gone to hell the moment he left Namhae, how could he have been naïve enough to hope differently?
As thankful as he was for news of the outside world, he wanted nothing more than to throw it back and slam the door.
Even as he curled up and hid from his fears, he repeated in his head over and over, He didn’t see for himself. He doesn’t know for sure.
Yeosang looked out the window and wondered about the future.
If he had been lonely before, he was truly alone now.
...
Wooyoung couldn’t breathe.
All the other unwilling gunners trembled in their shoes as their rank was inspected, but Wooyoung was shaking for a completely different reason.
The man inspecting them was his brother, Wooyoung was sure of it.
He had the same face, the same stupid hairdo, the same grating voice. The only thing that had changed was the addition of facial hair. It was Woosung, there was no doubt.
Wooyoung’s attention had been grabbed the moment one of the superior officers addressed him as Lieutenant Jung, and from there his suspicions had only grown until he stood, dumbstruck, in line with the rest of his new gun crew while the Lieutenant went down the line and asked for names and experience to assign them positions.
The man next to him was telling Woosung about his wife and children in an attempt to win pity and be set free, but Wooyoung gazed at his brother’s face and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
What an extraordinary turn of luck this was, good or bad.
“Name?” Woosung asked him, not even looking up from the paper he was recording everything on.
“Jung Wooyoung,” came the answer, and slowly Woosung lifted his head, mouth dropping open in utter shock. A small smile grew on Wooyoung’s face. It was like old times, him annoying his brother and his brother making that face at him.
“Lieutenant Jung?” A sharp voice cut the tension from the quarterdeck. “Is there a problem?”
“No sir,” Woosung responded swiftly before asking the next question. “Do you have any experience with cannons?”
Wooyoung hesitated. He was supposed to have been doomed to being a powder monkey for the rest of his life, and Woosung knew that. Should he tell him how he fired some of the most incredible shots ever made from a cannon as master gunner aboard the ATEEZ, or should be play it safe?
“Intimate experience,” he settled on. “I’ve loaded it, fired it, cleaned it, aimed it— you can trust me with the guns.”
“We’ll see,” Woosung snorted. He moved on with a meaningful stare that told Wooyoung he was due for a conversation about it later.
Wooyoung watched him go with a chill in his spine, and not from the winter winds.
...
One after another they stabbed their swords into him. Over and over they killed him with their weapons and their words.
It’s your fault. You let this happen.
“Please have mercy, San... Jongho, please don’t... Mingi, no!”
Seonghwa was mumbling to himself, half asleep on the carriage ride he was taking to an inn. The inn Yeosang would be at.
“I’m sorry, Yeosang, I tried—“ Seonghwa was muttering when his bodyguard shook him awake.
“We’ve arrived, Your Highness.”
Seonghwa allowed himself a moment while the jolt he had received faded away. “Yes, thank you,” he responded, voice hoarse and tired.
He didn’t sleep well anymore. Too many nightmares.
Before his eyes had even adjusted to the low light in the inn, a form had thrown itself into his arms.
“Yeosang?” Seonghwa gasped, pulling away to see his dear friend.
Yeosang nodded, looking tired himself and a little worn from the journey but so overjoyed to see him that it stretched Seonghwa’s own face into the smile he hadn’t shown in weeks.
If only Junhee was here to see him.
“I’ve never been happier to receive a letter in my life,” Yeosang insisted once they were seated in two very plush chairs separated by a grand fireplace. A large potted plant of some kind bent over and tickled Seonghwa’s neck from behind but it was a very nice lounge for an inn, especially compared to the one in Namhae.
The guards were seated one table over, watching like a bunch of hawks with frowns of disapproval directed at Yeosang for hugging the crown prince so publicly.
“I’m just in disbelief that Junhee actually invited you,” Seonghwa laughed. “I’ve missed all of you so much, he thought I was going mad.”
“Going mad,” Yeosang snorted. “At least you aren’t literally locked up at home like I am. Until now, at least. Father said only a letter from the king could get me out and that’s exactly what came for me, against all odds.”
“I only wish I could’ve located the others,” Seonghwa sighed, sobering a bit and watching the flames dance in the fireplace. “Then this would truly be a joyful coronation.”
Yeosang shifted uncomfortably and took a deep breath. He had an issue to address and he couldn’t wait any longer.
“Seonghwa, I’ve heard rumours. I was hoping you could deny them.”
Seonghwa was quiet, his eyes fixed on one point like he was seeing a ghost. It made Yeosang’s stomach churn and his heart beat out of his chest.
“Seonghwa?” He whispered. “Please tell me they aren’t true.”
The other swallowed and finally looked at him. “Let’s go to the palace. I don’t want to talk about it here.”
Yeosang nodded and followed him into his carriage, feeling too fragile, like the last string was waiting to be snapped and a blade was about to fall on him.
The palace that was so famous and coveted throughout the nation was truly every bit as grand as the stories told.
It was when Seonghwa dismissed all guards and servants from his chambers and shut the doors and windows tightly that he shakily spilled that what he knew was just what Yeosang had feared.
And it was up until the sun had set and frosty air whipped at the windows that they clung to each other and wept in the darkness.
Twilight stole over the wooded hills. Dark flapping specks traversed a silky white canopy of clouds. They were birds flying away, migrating further south to escape the deepening chill of winter.
Yeosang rode back to the inn alone with red eyes and lay in the borrowed bed with a heavy heart, but rested in the knowledge that Seonghwa had felt just as empty and alone as he had.
And at least they had each other now.
...
San knelt by a stream deep in enemy territory and splashed the water on his face. It was warm here in Haemin, and he had shed his jacket somewhere along the way.
His aimless drifting at sea had put him closer and closer to the path of Navy ships and their bloody battles. Not one of the ships he had seen was the ATEEZ, but he kept looking and he kept waiting. Someone was following him, and soon they would be far enough from the Navy to meet face to face without fear of arrest.
A stick snapped behind him and San’s head shot up like a deer’s. The rustling of a bush on the tree line indicated the presence of a watcher.
“Wooyoung?” He called out hesitantly. He wasn’t sure why, but he hoped that it was Wooyoung, and maybe if he hoped hard enough it would be. “Is that you?”
San stood and fully faced the dark line of the forest. It was very early morning, too early to see more than a few feet through the gathered mist.
He faced a dilemma. Pursue this stranger? Or return to his boat and continue south?
San was tired of running. The more he ran, the farther he felt he was from his friends. People that needed him.
He took another step towards the bush and parted his lips to call out again, when suddenly a hand shot out from behind and clamped over his mouth.
San could only struggle and let out a surprised scream that was immediately muffled before a fist came down on top of his head, knocking the daylights out of him.
As he crumpled to the ground and felt himself he dragged away, he sent out one last call to the mystic.
Send someone to find me. You’ve kept me going this long.
...
Seonghwa walked down the aisle gracefully toward the throne. He had been here before in his dreams and the stiffness he couldn’t shake was the irrational terror that Hongjoong’s dead and crimson-soaked body would appear outside the doors and melt the crown off his head.
He had spent the entire day being prepared for his coronation. The many traditions and procedures that had to be observed kept him busy, and he didn’t get the chance to visit Yeosang again until now. He had wanted to tell him about the dream.
Yeosang was there in the crowd, looking every bit a breathtakingly handsome prince to rival Seonghwa. It calmed him to see him there, and it whispered to him that this wasn’t a dream.
If it was, at least it wasn’t one where Yeosang was attacking him.
He knelt before Junhee and listened to the official speech be given that he, Park Seonghwa, was officially crowned prince of the Glorious Realm of Jaecho and given all the power and authority that his brother the king could grant him. He was reminded, in a soft and personal tone of voice, that his duty was now first and foremost to his kingdom and that he must live out the rest of his days in service to it.
“Long live Prince Seonghwa!” Junhee declared, and the audience echoed back as the crown touched Seonghwa’s hair.
He held his breath and lifted his own hand to touch it, but it was firm. It was real. This was really happening.
Seonghwa rose and turned to bow to his subjects, smiling not for them but for Yeosang, who clapped and beamed back at him.
The festivities that followed lasted long into the night.
“What do you think of them?” Seonghwa whispered to Yeosang as they stood in the corner of the ballroom, nudging his head in the direction of the giggling court ladies. As crown prince he had filled his mandatory dance slots within the first hour and retired to converse with his honoured friend on the sidelines.
“They’re a dozen women with the same personality,” Yeosang chuckled. “I’ve seen their type before.”
Seonghwa nodded. “The peasant women and serving girls have more wit.”
His mind returned to some of the friends of his childhood. “Why did I ever want to do anything but run free through the fields like I used to?”
“Everything was simpler then,” Yeosang hummed, no doubt his thoughts were on his own past.
“It only feels that way now,” Seonghwa pointed out, draining his champagne glass and motioning a server to bring another. “The problems have piled up to an unbearable height.”
Palace champagne wasn’t like the rum he had enjoyed in his previous life, but it reminded him of that feeling enough that he couldn’t stop asking for more.
“Steady there, crown prince,” Yeosang teased. “We don’t want to embarrass ourselves on the first day of official prince-ship.”
Seonghwa shot him a dirty look but slowed his alcohol intake. It was a temporary fix, the champagne, Yeosang’s company, this entire party in all its colour and noise. It was a flimsy bandage to cover a gaping wound, but Seonghwa appreciated it more than he could express.
“Will you stay?” He suddenly asked Yeosang, eyes shining to reflect the candles that dotted the royal chandeliers. “At least until your father sends for you?”
Yeosang smiled that bittersweet smile and rested a hand on his shoulder.
“It would be my pleasure.”
...
San awoke mid-coughing fit. The sway of the wooden floor beneath him betrayed his location.
A ship.
There was a massive iron chain cuffing his ankle to the floor and it was immediately apparent that he had been taken prisoner, but it was too dark to tell by whom and if he was alone.
Morning light emanated from a tiny porthole, and San dragged himself over to it, praying that he hadn’t gone too far off course, that land would still be visible.
There was nothing but wide open ocean as far as the eye could see.
“No, no, no,” he whimpered and backed away slowly, reaching around him for anything he could use as a weapon. “This can’t be happening, not now...”
“You there!” A gruff voice with a strong foreign accent yelled close to his ear, scaring him. “Pipe down if you want to keep your tongue.”
He brandished a long, jagged knife and San slowly returned to his spot.
San was in very big trouble now. More trouble than he knew how to get out of. He had been captured as a prisoner of war. This wasn’t the Navy.
It was Haemin.