Work Text:
I. A Rabbit and a Snakepit
One of Renjun’s favourite stories as a child had been his conception dream. His mother had told it to him on his birthday every year upon until she had passed. “There’s a mountain so high that the trees grow among clouds, and the peak is almost touching the moon. Two tigers are running up the mountain towards the very top. Their paws are quiet in the night.” She smoothed a hand over his hair gently. “Why are they running, Jun-ah?”
Renjun answered, “The hunters.”
“The hunters,” his mother whispered. “The hunters are searching for the dragon.”
“The dragon who lives on top of the mountain,” Renjun whispered back.
His mother tweaked his nose and nodded. “The tigers are racing the hunters to where the dragon lives, where he’s breathing the fire that sustains the earth. And the tigers meet the hunters at the entrance to the cavern and rip into them with fangs and claws.”
Renjun had shivered a little at that. “They kill them?”
His mother had nodded. “To stop them from entering the cavern.”
“Why?” Renjun asked.
His mother had smiled. “That is their most important job.”
Council is in session, but Renjun has been staring at the clock on the wall instead of paying attention for the past thirty minutes. It’s not the most kingly way to behave, he supposes; but Lord Im and Lady Park have been arguing over a technicality for at least twenty of those minutes, and Renjun has seen at least half of his councillors stifle a yawn.
Next to him, Doyoung seems ready to lunge across the table at someone. Renjun keeps half an eye on him in case he actually snaps and decides to do it – as amusing as that would be, there’s no point in causing a national incident. “I’m sure we can continue this at a later date,” Lady Oh puts in serenely. (She is Renjun’s absolute favourite.) “After all, there is time.”
“Respectfully, Lady Oh, I disagree,” Marquess Jung says in his booming voice. (He is not Renjun’s favourite by any measurement.) “This is a matter upon which the council must settle as soon as possible.”
“But as we’ve pointed out,” Doyoung says, voice calm although Renjun can hear the tinge of exasperation. “The council is solidly split on the matter, as is parliament. There’s no point debating it into the night until we can make some more progress.”
Marquess Jung’s smile is all condescension. It sets Renjun’s teeth on edge. “Prime Minister,” the Marquess says, “I understand that despite your youth, you are an excellent statesman. However, the complexity of the issue is perhaps lost on you –”
“The complexity of the issue remains quite clear to me, daegam-nim,” Doyoung says, jaw clenched. “Perhaps you could illuminate me as to how our division can be resolved.” Doyoung always uses large words when he’s vexed.
Renjun hides a smile that vanishes entirely at Marquess Jung’s next words – “In situations such as these, the monarch is able to break the tie.”
“Unusual,” Viscountess Wang says with a frown.
“But not unconstitutional,” Lord Kim argues silkily. “Entirely legal, and with precedent.”
There’s a silence around the table that nobody seems to want to breach. Finally, it’s Lord Nam who speaks with some reluctance in his voice. “Pyeha,” he says, “It is true that the monarch may cast a vote if both council and house are at a stalemate.”
Renjun sits up a little straighter in his chair. The Bill that Doyoung’s party has been drafted by the Department of Finance, and is one that they’ve been working towards for a long time. Socialist, the critics call it. Revolutionary, say the supporters. Doyoung always denies both of those things, yet somehow the words keep cropping up.
But Renjun has never been a great whiz at economics; had struggled for several years through the secondary curriculum for the subject before his tutors had given him up for hopeless. “I’ll need time,” he says finally. “To consider.”
“We need to move quickly on this, pyeha,” Doyoung says apologetically. “That much is true. But of course, you should take time if you need.”
“A week,” suggests Johnny from where he’s standing behind Renjun’s chair. “I’ll have summaries written up for you.”
Renjun spares a smile for his private secretary as thanks, then turns to the council. He has an appointment – a very important appointment – that he’s extremely late for. “That settles that – now may we adjourn?”
It feels rather like being the rabbit in Alice in Wonderland as he speeds away from the council room. “You seem like you’re in a hurry,” Johnny says, although the laughing tone of his voice indicates that he knows exactly why that is.
Renjun groans. “They’re going to kill me.”
“Ruling the country isn’t a good enough excuse?” Johnny grins.
Renjun glares at him. “Have you even met –”
“Pyeha!” comes echoing down the hall and Renjun swallows another inappropriate groan.
“Council has ended, Lord Kim,” he says pointedly.
“Pyeha,” Lord Kim says, slightly breathlessly – he must have chased Renjun all the way here. “Pyeha, I’d like to have a word with you about this Bill that the Prime Minister wants to pass.”
“You can organise a meeting with the king during his official hours,” Johnny cuts in.
Lord Kim shoots him a dirty look then turns back to Renjun. “Pyeha, the numbers are extremely telling – the Prime Minister’s plan doesn’t account for any of the –”
“Renjun-ah!” another familiar voice interrupts, but this one far more welcome.
“My Gods, it’s like a marketplace in here,” Johnny mutters. “Can’t anyone just make an appointment in advance?”
Na Jaemin is striding along the corridor, dressed in what looks like flannel pyjamas with a thunderous expression on his face. “I had an appointment,” he tells Johnny, who acknowledges the point silently. “Renjun’s the one who didn’t manage to keep it; blame him.”
Lord Kim is gaping at the scene in front of him. Renjun wonders what he’s most astonished at – the sight of Na Jaemin, Knight Valiant and bodyguard of the king, one of the most impressive young warriors in the kingdom, wandering about the castle wearing pyjamas; or way he’s addressing Renjun. The answer comes a moment later when Lord Kim splutters, “D-did you just call pyeha by his name?”
“Yes, I did,” Jaemin says. “Renjun, why are you so late?”
Despite the fact that he knows he’s in for a scolding, Renjun can’t help but fight the urge to laugh. Wordlessly, he slides his gaze over to where Lord Kim is still slack-jawed and staring. Jaemin sees Kim, it seems, for the first time. “Lord Kim,” he greets, bowing (ridiculously, in red checked sleepwear). “My apologies, but the king is extremely late for a meeting and I’m here to bring him there. I hope you don’t mind.”
Lord Kim closes his mouth with a snap. “Actually –”
“Thank you for understanding,” Jaemin says shortly. “I’m sure that His Majesty will be delighted to hear what you have to say when he has the time. Goodnight.”
And then, turning on his heel, he takes Renjun by the elbow and hauls him none-too-gently towards his private rooms, leaving Lord Kim sputtering after them and Johnny beside himself with laughter.
The fire is crackling low in the grate and there’s a full spread of food on the low coffee table. Three sets of plates and cutlery have also been carefully set up. There’s even jazz music, Renjun’s favourite, coming from the record player. By palace standards, it’s criminally casual but Renjun can see how much effort the two of them have put into it all. It makes something in him crack; melts away the tension and loneliness; makes him feel twinkly and content, but then the two of them always do.
Jeno appears from one of the fireside armchairs. He, too, looks cozy and cuddle-ready in cloud-blue pyjamas. “Renjunnie,” he says reproachfully when he sees them. “You’re late again.”
“Don’t be too hard on him,” Jaemin says unexpectedly. “I found him fending off Lord Kim in the hall.”
“Urgh,” Jeno says, nose wrinkling with distaste. “Slimy.”
Jaemin laughs, a bright thing that warms Renjun to the fingertips. “Come here, Renjun-ah. We’ll have some dinner and you’ll forget all about it.”
He goes to the low table and begins to dish out the dumplings but Renjun doesn’t want to eat just yet. Instead, kneels next to Jaemin, waits until the knight looks up then takes the serving spoon away from him and kisses him soundly. Jaemin makes a surprised noise but doesn’t pull away. Jaemin kisses just like he is in life, direct and wild and full of love that often hides from the eye.
“My knight in shining armour,” Renjun murmurs with a teasing grin. Jaemin sits back on his heels and rolls his eyes.
Jeno is watching the two of them. Renjun rocks back onto his feet and pads across the room to kiss him too, sliding into his lap and running his thumbs over Jeno’s cheekbones. Jeno is just like Jaemin, full of love, but also sunny and open and gentle and tender. Renjun presses deeper like he can drink all the intoxicating goodness out of him.
“Hey, you two,” Jaemin says, and they break apart. “Stop making out and come eat.”
This is what life is, behind the closed door. Renjun is in love with every part.
II. Interrupted orchids
Outside, in the world, there are dangers. Hunters abound, in the shape of not only councillors but also assassins.
“What kind of assassin,” Kunhang pants as he herds Renjun in the direction of the back door, “decides that a flower show is the right kind of place for an shooting? It’s like deciding that a petting zoo is an appropriate place for the guillotine.”
Dejun’s hand is firmly on Renjun’s shoulder, directing them through the hallways. The back door is through the kitchen. Renjun thinks, with a flash of dry humour, that they can only hope there isn’t a second assassin waiting there to brain them with a frying pan. “Well, you can take it up with them,” Dejun is saying to Kunhang. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to take your criticisms.”
“We should do a form for them,” Kunhang says, even as he checks around the corner. “Match the appropriate event to the appropriate venue.”
Despite his disdain, Dejun joins in. “Those who express desire to ruin children’s birthday parties or outdoor garden parties need not apply.”
“Can you two please shut up?” Sicheng’s dry voice comes through Dejun’s earpiece. “Where’s pyeha?”
“Right here between us,” Kunhang says promptly. “Give us a hint, pyeha. Was the purple orchid going to win the competition, or did you think the white one was better?”
Renjun is used to their banter and enjoys it a great deal, even in serious situations. Dejun and Kunhang are the newest to his security detail and despite their easygoing manner, they’re exceptional at their jobs. Keeping him cheerful is just an added bonus. But today, nothing can lift his mood.
He keeps replaying the scene in his mind, over and over. Deliberating between two exquisite orchid flowers with the entire horticultural community looking up at him expectantly. Then, the sound of gunshots in the air and someone slamming him down to the floor. It was Jeno who had reached him and pushed him down. “Stay with Dejun and Kunhang,” he’d ordered in a low voice. Then, he’d been gone and Renjun had seen both him and Jaemin thundering down the length of the hall after a dark-clad figure, and they haven’t yet come back.
“Pyeha,” Dejun says, nudging him out of his reverie. “We’re here.”
They step through the kitchen door and out onto the pavement. Kun and Ten are already there with a car that Renjun heavily suspects is bulletproof. “We’re returning to the palace,” Kun informs Renjun. “So far as we know, there were no injuries at the scene. The shots both missed. Jeno and Jaemin are still in pursuit.”
Kun’s phone rings and he moves seats to take the call. After a moment, Ten takes his place. “Renjunnie,” he says gently. “Are you alright?”
Feeling a little like his throat is caked in dust, Renjun croaks, “I’m fine.”
Ten lifts his chin with two long fingers and looks him in the eye. “Then stop looking like you’re going to throw up.” Renjun tries hard to rearrange his expression into one of calm but he must fail miserably because Ten sighs. “They’ll be fine,” he says, face softening. “Both of them. They’re good at their jobs.”
“I know that,” Renjun says miserably.
Ten watches him. “Renjunnie, do you want a hug?”
It’s something that Ten and Kun don’t offer much anymore. They’ve been the heads of his security detail for longer than Renjun has been king, and they’d grown up and trained in the palace. Neither of them are particularly demonstrative with their affection, especially as they’ve all become adults – so Renjun must look really pathetic for Ten to offer.
He doesn’t care. Cuddled up to Ten, face buried in his shirt collar, Renjun lets himself be afraid. “It’s ok, Renjunnie,” Ten murmurs. “They’ll come home.”
When Jeno takes off his shirt, he’s bruised all the way down his side. Jaemin seems to have gotten off lighter, with only a shallow cut above the eye and black-and-blue knees. Still, Renjun is every bit as careful when he applies the cream that the doctors have prescribed to them both.
“Ouch,” Jaemin says with an exaggerated moan, clutching at his thigh. “How will I go on? Pyeha, won’t you kiss it better?”
Jeno laughs so hard that he actually aggravates his injury, at which point Renjun punches Jaemin in the chest hard enough to make him be quiet. “Renjun, don’t be so worried,” Jeno says fondly. “They’re just bruises.”
Renjun glares so fiercely at him that he’s a little surprised Jeno doesn’t burst into flames on the spot. “Shut up,” he orders, tears burning behind his eyes. He swipes them away angrily. “I hate you both.”
He unscrews the ointment lid aggressively but makes sure to be gentle as he rubs it into Jeno’s skin. “Hey,” Jeno says quietly. “Renjun, talk to us.”
Renjun stares stubbornly down at Jeno’s bruises. “I don’t want you getting hurt like this for me.”
Jeno waits until Renjun is done before saying, “Renjun-ah, this is nothing compared to what the two of us would do for you.”
Every night until they fade, Renjun peels back Jeno’s shirt and presses his lips against the bruises, as if he can heal them with only his will.
III. Don’t Fight the Feeling
“Who are they again?” Renjun asks, leaning forward to squint out the window. The crowds are going absolutely crazy, pushing against the barriers and waving their signs and glowing sticks in the air. For once, they haven’t come to see the king.
“Exo,” Yangyang says from the seat next to him, amused. “They’re a boyband.”
“Show me the picture again,” Renjun requests, and takes the photograph from Johnny. They’re extremely handsome, and striking in their suits. One of them wears clear-framed glasses to incredibly good effect. Two of them have pink hair.
“It’s terrible for your roots,” Yangyang informs him when he comments on it.
Renjun looks at him curiously. “How would you know?”
Yangyang only grins and shrugs. He’s always been a troublemaker, albeit in a different way from someone like Ten or Donghyuck. Yangyang hides the mischief well underneath a bright smile and an apparent willingness to adhere to protocol.
“So Exo is really famous?” Renjun asks redundantly. Through the window, he can’t even see where the crowds end. “Do we like them?”
“If we know what’s good for us, we do,” Yangyang says with a grin. Then, more seriously, “We like them. I played all their songs at your birthday party last year. I think they actually performed at Shotaro’s, and I know you weren’t there for that but you saw the pictures!” Yangyang waves a hand in front of Renjun’s face as if this will help bring back the memories. “Jeno has all their albums. Jaemin learned the dance from their latest single and sent a video to the group chat – Hyuck mocked him for it, then sent a video of him doing it too! Have you really not noticed?”
Renjun blinks. “I –” He has vague memories of all these things – of hearing Jeno mention them, and Donghyuck maybe singing their songs, but nothing concrete coalesces. “I guess?”
Yangyang laughs and ruffles Renjun’s hair fondly. “Grandpa,” he teases.
Renjun turns to Johnny, whose head is buried in a dossier. “Hyung,” he whines. “Does everyone really know but me?”
“Yeah,” Johnny replies and fixes Renjun’s hair without looking up.
Exo is performing at the charity concert which Renjun is supposed to be speaking at. Obviously due to Renjun’s presence, extensive running sheets and security protocols are in place. However, something that both palace and venue security may not have accounted for is the sheer number of Exo’s fans.
There’s been a mistake in the admission, Renjun realises, because there’s no way that a space this size can accommodate the number of people here. This thought is a little belated though, because by the time he has it, the crowd is already spilling over their boundaries and flooding into roped-off areas. With some concern, Renjun watches as people of all ages and sizes tumble over each other in an involuntary jostle. The sea of spectators is thrown forward towards them.
From his wrist, Yangyang’s grip is wrenched away. “Pyeha,” he hears someone bellow as the flimsy barricades that have been set up to create a walkway for him disappear. The crowd is swilling around him, and he’s knocked back and forth. Panic blooms sharp in his chest and his heart thuds painfully. He scans the crowd for signs of Jaemin or Jeno or anyone, but there is only an indiscrete mass.
People seem to realise who he is and what the problem is, but there’s too many of them to create any kind of space or channel. “Pyeha,” a middle-aged women gasps, holding a child to her waist. “Oh my goodness –”
“The king’s here,” a young man sporting a t-shirt with the Exo members’ faces on it bellows. “Pyeha, don’t move, he’s here –”
A tiny boy stumbles into his path and without thinking, Renjun scoops him up. He’s adorable, probably no older than five or six. “You’re the king,” he says in a high, unbroken voice. Renjun is elbowed to his right and he tightens his grip on the child.
“I am,” he replies. “Who’s minding you?”
“Noona is,” the boy answers, then turns. “Noona,” he calls. “Noona.”
Rather miraculously, a frazzled-looking young woman with a bob cut appears out of the crowd. “Aigoo,” she gasps. “Come here.” She reaches out for the boy and Renjun relinquishes him; at that moment, she registers his face.
“Oh my Gods – pyeha,” she exclaims, eyes wide. “Pyeha, what are you –”
A strong hand grabs the collar of his jacket and hauls him backwards. He collides firmly with a solid chest, and flails instinctively for a moment before he hears Jeno’s low voice say, “Renjun, it’s me.”
“Hey,” the young woman says, stepping forward. “Let go of pyeha– someone’s grabbing the king.” She shrieks the last part with impressive volume.
“It’s alright,” Renjun says desperately, waving his hands. “He’s my bodyguard, it’s okay.”
Belatedly, the little boy tugs on his sister’s ear. “Noona,” he says innocently. “That man’s a knight.”
Luckily, Jeno seems more amused by the situation than anything else. “You have a clever dongsaeng,” he tells the young woman, who’s bright red with embarrassment and apologising. “Please,” Jeno replies warmly. “You did right to protect him.”
He gives her a smile – the one that turns his eyes to crescent moons – and she blushes even brighter. “Thank you,” Renjun calls to her even as she disappears into the crowd. There are still people milling around everywhere. Security from all corners are trying to regain some semblance of order. Renjun catches sight of Sicheng helping an elderly woman up; sees Kun righting an overturned table. “Where’s Yangyang?” he asks.
“With Jaem,” Jeno answers. He wraps his arm tighter around Renjun’s waist. “We’ll be there soon, don’t worry.”
Renjun leans a little into him. “Who said I was worried?”
The members of Exo are incredibly polite and apologetic about the entire situation although Renjun can’t see how it’s their fault at all. He does, however, ask them for a small favour.
“If you’re in a rush,” Renjun adds, “then maybe we can arrange to have them sent –”
“In a rush?” Johnny says, voice full of laughter. “Pyeha, nobody is in a rush when they meet you. I think it might be illegal.” To the members of Exo, he says, “Pyeha’s only just learned about how famous you are today, so I think he’s a little starstruck.”
“Shut up, please,” Renjun tells Johnny, making a face, then realises that all the members of Exo are staring at them. “I mean – if you wouldn’t mind –”
“They don’t mind,” Johnny interrupts again. “I’ll send someone to fetch markers.”
Renjun smiles at the members, who don’t look as surprised at his casual manner with Johnny as he would have thought. “One for my friend Shotaro – he’s a prince from our neighbouring country. Apparently you performed at his birthday. And for Yangyang, who’s actually here today, and also my friend Donghyuck.”
“Duke Lee’s son and Duchess Liu’s son?” one of the pink-haired ones – Chanyeol – asks.
Renjun nods. “Yes. And also two of my knights.”
Exo are more than happy to sign the albums for him and absolutely shriek with protest when Johnny offers to pay them. “It’s an honour, pyeha,” Suho, the leader, says, holding out six albums with a deep bow. “And one of them is for you.”
“Thank you,” Renjun says genuinely, accepting them. “How kind.”
“We’ll post it on Instagram,” Johnny adds with a giggle and the one with the leather pants – Sehun – mystifyingly giggles in response.
The shorter one with the stunning singing voice says, “We’re so sorry again about earlier, pyeha. It must have been really scary.”
Renjun thinks of Jeno’s strong hand on his collar, the arm around his waist. “Please don’t apologise,” he says finally. “I wasn’t scared at all.”
“Hyung,” Renjun says in the car. “You seem really…familiar with the members of Exo.”
Johnny’s leaning against the backwards seat, dark suit stark against the red leather. He’s reading reports on his iPad, eyes scanning across the screen. “Hyung has to have some secrets, Renjun-ah,” he says, and won’t say any more about it.
IV. Lost in Transportation
It’s not until four days after the council meeting that Renjun gets any time to read the Bill proposal. Johnny’s done his usual exemplary work of including summaries as well as necessary background information in the packet. The more Renjun reads, the more he realises why nobility like Lord Nam and Lord Kim are so against it. The Bill, among other things, would ultimately lead to more money being taxed from the wealthy and used to bolster public systems such as healthcare and housing.
Renjun can’t find it in himself to oppose it.
“So you’re going to vote yes?” Jaemin asks, dangling a little bell toy in front of one of Ten’s cats.
Renjun sits back in his chair and stares at the ceiling. “I think I have to.”
“But?” Jeno asks.
Renjun sighs. The firelight throws shimmering patterns over the ceiling. “But that will rip the council right in two, not to mention parliament.”
“I’m sure Doyoung-hyung can handle it,” Jeno comments.
“I’m sure he can,” Renjun agrees. “But it would make me a lot of enemies too.”
“We do want to avoid that,” Jaemin says, making the cat roll over. “If possible.”
Renjun pulls his knees up under his chin and rests his head on Jeno’s shoulder. “But they’re my people. I have to do what’s best for them, don’t I? It’s not as if I get the chance very often.”
He feels the heat of Jaemin’s gaze on him, the press of Jeno’s lips against his temple. “Whatever you decide,” Jaemin says finally, “we’ll support it. You know that.”
Breaking out is something he hasn’t done for a long time, partly due to maturity and partly due to the fact that he doesn’t want to be strangled by any of his staff – or his boyfriends. But tonight, he feels it, that itch to escape from the luxury and protocol of the palace. So he employs the same techniques as he’d used when escaping before – avoiding security cameras and utilising servant’s passageways. Nobody ever sees a king where they don’t expect, which works exactly to his advantage.
If he’s going to rule his people, he’s going to be among his people.
The problem is that he has no idea how the buses run. He thinks he took one starting with a 3 down towards the city centre, and from there got on one starting with 4 out towards the university. But he can’t remember exactly which way he’s supposed to be going, so instead, he’s lingering on a bus bench in the middle of the night, lost in his own city.
It’s Mark who finds him there, watching the students traipse home from the late night studying. Renjun watches as he approaches, dressed inconspicuously in jeans and an oversized hoodie that no doubt is hiding at least five weapons. Gods have mercy on the unsuspecting mugger who underestimates the force that is Mark Lee.
“Pyeha,” comes the greeting. “I’ve been asked to bring you home.”
“Who called you?” Renjun asks, even though he already knows the answer. Instead, he asks another question. “How did you find me?”
Mark shrugs. “I’m a police detective. I have amazing and mysterious powers of the mind.” As Renjun rolls his eyes, Mark nods to one of the street lamps. “There are security cameras, pyeha.”
Renjun crosses his legs under him. “I’m being stupid, I know. Jeno and Jaem are going to kill me.”
Mark nods gravely. “It did seem that way on the phone, yeah.”
“I didn’t mean to make them worry,” Renjun sighs.
Mark gives him a look that’s half-sympathetic and half-exasperated. “You do get that besides the fact that they’re, y’know, in love with you, it’s also their job to protect you, right?” he asks. When Renjun says nothing, he continues. “It’s their job to make sure that nobody kills you or kidnaps you for ransom or decides that you’re pretty enough to recruit as an idol trainee – it’s their job to protect the king. But how are they supposed to do that if you keep sneaking out at night to take buses?”
“I just wanted to get out,” Renjun replies. “I wanted to see exactly who it is that I’m making all these decisions for – I don’t know any better than them. Look at me.” He gestures to himself and then points at a young couple emerging from the library. The doors yawn open, spilling golden light from inside. The couple is holding hands, swinging them back and forth as they make their way down the street. “How am I different from them, really?”
“You’re wearing ten thousand dollar shoes,” Mark says with a straight face.
“Not helpful, hyung,” Renjun scowls.
Mark holds up his hands. “What do you want me to say to you, Renjun-ah? I’m not saying that being king makes you wiser or better or more qualified than other people. But you are the king. And that’s that.”
Renjun smiles at that. When they’d been younger, Mark had trained at the palace too, and Renjun had come very close to knighting him. But there had been issues with his family and issues with his education and the whole situation with Donghyuck, too. Mark had packed overnight and left, enrolling in the police force academy. Renjun is proud; knows that Mark is a great detective, but – “I’ve missed you, hyung.”
Mark’s mouth twists a little at that. “I know, Renjun-ah. Miss you, too.”
There’s a bright, gibbous moon above them. Out here, Renjun is free of the fuss and the bowing and the protocol and the pomp. At home, what awaits is likely trouble – Johnny and Doyoung and especially Jeno and Jaemin. But Renjun stands anyway. “Let’s go home, hyung,” he says, and Mark beams.
V. Valiant and Justice (Death and a Sunrise)
Of course, whatever can go wrong, does. He remembers walking with Mark to the train station and getting on with him. The group chat is flooding with messages –
Yangyang
[02:34 AM]
You escaped from the palace again?
Donghyuck
[02:36 AM]
Damn, Renjun-ah. You’ve got more guts than I thought.
Jaemin
[02:37 AM]
You shut the fuck up, Lee Donghyuck.
This is not funny.
Jeno
[02:39 AM]
Seconded.
Yangyang
[02:40 AM]
Sheesh, don’t anger them.
Donghyuck
[02:42 AM]
Come on, it’s a bit funny.
I’m sure Renjun’s safe and sound by now.
Jeno
[02:45 AM]
Yeah, he is.
Mark-hyung’s bringing him back here.
And I’m going to tell hyung what you said last time I went out with you for a drink.
Between all the crying, anyway.
Donghyuck
[02:50 AM]
Lee Jeno, you motherfucker
Shotaro
[02:52 AM]
@Renjun are you alright?
Renjun
[02:54 AM]
I am alright.
Thank you @Shotaro and absolutely nobody else.
The texts are the last thing he remembers before blacking out.
The next thing he knows, he’s waking up and staring at a ceiling that’s a little familiar when it swims into view. It’s the council chamber, he realises. He’s in the council chamber. The ceiling is pattern in gorgeous blue, and he blinks at it for several seconds, wondering what on earth is going on.
“Pyeha, you’re awake,” says a soft voice. Slimy, Renjun thinks. “Glad to know they didn’t hit you too hard.”
Renjun doesn’t remember being hit at all. He just remembers sending a message in the group chat, sitting next to Mark on the train – Mark, he thinks with a start. Did he get away safely?
“What is it you want with me?” Renjun asks, trying to keep his voice steady despite the thudding in his throat. He doesn’t move from where he’s lying on the carpeted floor.
A chair scrapes in the distance, then footsteps. Finally, Lord Kim’s face swims into view. “There are many things I want from you, pyeha,” he says, almost gently. “But I don’t think you’re going to give them to me.”
“Is this about that fucking tax Bill?” Renjun demands, trying to sit up, but Lord Kim shoves him down with a booted foot on his shoulder. A spike of pain lances through him.
Lord Kim shakes his head. “It’s about so much more than that. With you on the throne and that boy in the Prime Minister’s seat – you two will ruin this country that we worked so hard to build.”
“I don’t want to ruin the country,” Renjun says through gritted teeth as he struggles. “People need our help.”
Lord Kim scoffs. “There are old ways,” he says. Renjun kicks at his other foot, but he only sidesteps it easily. “Traditions that we need to keep.”
“Of course we do,” Renjun shouts, then gasps as Kim’s foot kicks him in the side. “Traditions are what made us, but we also have to move –”
This time, Kim digs a heel into his abdomen and al the air disappears from his lungs. Help, he thinks. Jeno and Jaemin will really murder him this time, because it’s all his fault. I’m sorry, he tells them silently. “Are you going to kill me?” he asks out loud.
“Probably,” Lord Kim says carelessly. “It seems like the best way forward.”
“Because you think if you kill me,” Renjun wheezes, “the Bill won’t get passed, but you’re wrong. The country’s changing, with or without me.”
Kim draws a gun from his jacket pocket then, almost carelessly. “Without then, I suppose,” he says. He lifts his boot from Renjun’s stomach and considers him. “The sun is rising. Would you like to see it?” he asks quietly.
Renjun swallows and closes his eyes. He thinks of the people that he loves in this world – his household staff, Duchess Liu who’d helped raise him, Duke Lee who’d given him such steady advice in the short years of his reign so far, Mark, who he’s only just seen again after so many months, Shotaro who he sees far too little, Yangyang who is his anchor, Donghyuck whose heart will surely break over this, Jeno and Jaemin. “Yes,” he whispers. “The sunrise.”
The windows of the council chamber are east-facing. Renjun’s heart leaps in fear as Lord Kim allows him to sit up, although to be truthful, he feels nothing but a strange icy calm. The sunrise is breathtaking, golden on a green horizon. Not a hint of cloud. Renjun thinks of Jaemin, who loves so fully and deeply that it’s almost painful to watch. Of Jeno, the gentle boy with the dark eyes. Of them both who have been with him since the beginning. Him, himself; Huang Renjun, not the prince, not the king.
Love each other for me, he wants to tell them, and closes his eyes and prays.
A gun is a relatively clean death, he predicts. The bullet should be white-hot and sharp inside him. The blood leaving him should be warm, like the sunrise. He waits but it never comes.
When he opens his eyes, it’s Lord Kim lying on the ground. It’s his blood staining the carpet and the floorboards warm as the sunlight spreads across the room.
It’s Jaemin standing at the door with empty hands, eyes blazing and furious. It’s Jeno, with his own gun hefted but unfired. It’s the knife that Jaemin has thrown, buried in Lord Kim’s throat. Gone are the young boys Renjun tumbled about with. Here are the knights that Renjun has given the titles Valiant and Justice.
The Sun breaks fully over the horizon in a dazzling burst, and for some odd reason, this is the thing that makes Renjun start to cry.
There’s nothing gentle about the way that Jaemin kisses him. It’s hot and fiery like brands on his skin. Renjun tips his head back against the wall hard. “We should,” he pants, “go inside.”
Jaemin silences him with a bruising kiss. Renjun tastes blood. Jaemin kisses him like it’s the first, like it’s the last, and Renjun understands why. “Never,” he growls violently, “do anything like that again.” He pinches Renjun on the arm. “Ever.”
Renjun is only halfway through promising when Jeno pulls him in next, slow and painfully sweet. He trails his lips down Renjun’s neck until he’s gasping; pulls his shirt collar down until his lips graze over Renjun’s shoulder, collarbones, chest. Right over his heart where the bullet might have sat. As if Jeno plans to burn away all the traces.
When he pulls back, Renjun is breathing hard and they’re both looking at him with dark eyes. “Come to bed,” Jeno says, and puts one hand to Renjun and the other to Jaemin, and they follow him into the bedroom and close the door.
The next day, after he's reassured Mark that he's alright, Renjun goes straight from his hospital appointment to parliament and votes to pass Doyoung’s Bill in front of both councillors and constituents.
With me, he thinks fiercely, then glances down to where Jeno and Jaemin are watching him. With us.
+ I. Tigers and the Dragon
“No way,” Donghyuck says firmly, folding his arms. “Absolutely no way – are you insane?”
Renjun’s jaw is set stubbornly. “Yes,” he retorts. “I mean, no, I am not insane. Yes, I am doing this.”
“I don’t know if it’s a great idea either, Jun-ah,” Yangyang pitches in. “It’s so soon after…”
“Soon or not,” Renjun says. “I’m doing this.”
In a chair in the corner of the room, Jeno watches with some amusement. Across from him, he can tell Jaemin is trying not to laugh. They’ve had this argument with Renjun already, who’d refused to budge. It’s amusing to watch other people try and fail.
“Renjun,” Donghyuck says seriously. “The two most reckless and stupid people you know –” He points to himself and then at Yangyang, who makes a face but doesn’t object. “—are telling you that this is a really reckless and stupid idea! Doesn’t that tell you something?”
“I never said that this was not reckless and stupid,” Renjun snaps. “But it’s what I have to do, so I will.”
Despairingly, Donghyuck turns to them. “You two agree with this?” he asks incredulously.
“No,” Jaemin says immediately. “Obviously not. But Renjunnie’s going to do it anyway, so we may as well not waste breath about it.”
“He could get killed!” Yangyang says. “And it’s your job to keep him safe!”
“Don’t,” Renjun interjects. “Don’t bring them into it. Besides, it’s my job to be seen, and I need to do that.”
It’s the anniversary of Renjun’s coronation tomorrow, and tradition dictates that the king or queen must travel to the old palace every year on coronation day. Not only go there, but show themselves to the people in plain form – alone and in the eyes of the Gods.
“I remember your mother having security up there with her,” Yangyang argues. “There’s precedent for it.”
“It’s been done,” Renjun agrees. “But not often. She didn’t have it every year. And this is only my first. I want to do it properly.”
“You can’t do it properly if you’re dead, Renjun,” Donghyuck snaps. “Fuck, can’t you have some self-preservation instincts for once?”
Jeno sees Donghyuck’s clenched fists under the table; sees Yangyang’s pinched forehead. He sends Renjun a look. They’re worried about you.
Renjun sighs and quirks an eyebrow. Give us a minute.
This is private business. Jeno nudges Jaemin under the table and they leave in silence.
In the end, Renjun wins, because Renjun always wins.
The morning of his coronation anniversary, he puts on the dragon robes. They send away the dressers and Jaemin helps him with the robes while Jeno puts on the jewellery for him. “Do I look like the king now?” Renjun asks, eyes closed, smiling.
The dragon robes glitter in the sunlight from the window. “You always do,” Jeno says softly, and touches Renjun’s chest.
The crowds of people this time aren’t for Exo, but have all gathered to see Renjun. The boy king who ascended the throne to become a man. Jeno clings to Jaemin’s hand and tries to slow his rapid heartbeat. Jaemin is pale but manages a weak smile. Instead of following him up onto the platform, they take their places below. Dejun and Kunhang are unusually silent, Sicheng is wearing dark sunglasses, Kun and Ten are scanning the area so feverishly that it almost makes Jeno even more nervous.
But as Renjun walks slowly up those steps, a strange hush falls over the crowd. Below him, they watch with their faces upturned. Above him, there is only sky. The robes flare and settle around him like armour and he looks out over the crowd, steady-eyed.
“To govern and to serve,” Renjun says, and his voice sweeps across the crowd, magnified and echoing. He’s reciting the coronation oath, Jeno realises. “With the wisdom that I possess. To protect and to safeguard, with all the strength in my being. To show mercy and judgement as the Gods guide me to do. Above all, to show kindness and courage to the good people of this land.”
Next to Jeno, Jaemin’s eyes are full of tears. Renjun continues. “All this and more, I vow to do. I vow to give and to receive, to comfort and to guide, to listen to those who have no voice and to speak for them too. I vow defence for the innocent and punishment for the cruel. My vow is of service and sacrifice; I vow to you my life, in return for the bounty of this kingdom.”
It’s their job to worry about those few who hate the king, but now he realises how many would follow him to the end of the earth. Jeno feels his breath rising in his throat, along with the thousands of others who love their king. Who love Renjun. Jeno twines his fingers with Jaemin’s, and looks up to the sky, a clear mirror; the Gods who have made them look down.
“This is my solemn vow to you,” says the monarch, says the monolith, says the legend, says the liege. “You are my people,” says Renjun. “And I am your king.”
“Mama,” Renjun had asked, all those years ago as a child. “Why did the tigers kill the hunters? Was it for food?” he’d wondered, eyes bright with curiosity. “In your dream, did the tigers feed the dragon?”
“The tigers protect the dragon,” Renjun’s mother, the Queen, had told him. “And the dragon rules the world.”
The End