Chapter Text
Mark’s learned a lot of things, growing up.
To be a kid, and what it means to use the immaturity of youth in his favor. His studies, all ranging from language to strategy, sword fighting to woodwork. What living for a cause greater than himself meant, what learning his kingdom and doing only for their better meant.
Mark learnt sacrifice, even if it came at the cost of his own heart sometime. Mark learnt friendship, in the halls of a palace smaller than his, the Duke and Duchess away in the drawing room while he roamed everywhere and more with their only beloved son, and Mark’s only beloved solace.
Mark learnt Donghyuck’s name, and learnt some people were just blessed more by the heavens than the rest. In the way the sun favoured his smiles, his laughter, his ability to put Mark in the worst of moods and bring him back just as fast. Donghyuck had grown from friend to best friend, companion to comrade, a simple duke’s son to taking the title for himself, not limiting himself to fields and instead being bestowed knighthood in the palace army too.
Mark had instead grown from child to prince, crowned and celebrated. Grown into being a leader and shedding off the fear of death, the colour of blood, all from his hands. Had learnt that life meant a little more than just the word, sitting under the stars with dwindling hope and an army half fallen, sat beside the boy who’d always grown brighter than any star the sky could show.
“Someone must do it,” he’d said, comforting as he handed a flask of alcohol, “it is only right, we take that step forward.”
If only Mark would have known, those very words of advice, would bring him his greatest pain.
*
“Get up,” a shake to his shoulders, “you will run late otherwise.”
It takes him a bit. The party had drawn out long last night, it is only expected he feels worn. Mark sits up, hair ruffled and eyes barely awake, to see his husband already done and ready, at the vanity now finishing up. “What time is it?” he croaks.
“Seven,” god. Then how early did he wake up? “I have to attend a meeting with Haneul’s scholars. He should start preparing for the tests if he’s going to compete by next year.” Mark feels that is way too unnecessary for a seven year old, but the other knows best when it comes to education. Donghyuck stands, regal in his blue suit, opting out his usual robes this time. He gives him a once over, expression barely shifting, “I laid out your clothes, hurry and change.”
“When will you be back?”
“When you will barely notice my leave,” Mark rolls his eyes, watching the other go, scratching his head before finally heading to the baths.
“Apa!”
He pauses from where he’d been talking with Minister Yoon, turning around at one call alone, smile blooming on his face as the footsteps rush towards him. He crouches down, arms open, a tornado of a hug colliding to stop right in his arms. “Woah there,” he laughs, kissing the side of Haneul’s head, “someone is in quite a mood.”
“Last night was so fun!” his son says excitedly. Mark pulls back, attentively listening, “and you know, I might even get moved up a rank in defense class! Sir Jeno promised he will get me a treat if I do well!”
“Do not trouble Sir Jeno much, will you,” he pinches his cheeks, round and full, eyes holding the universe and more. He’s just started getting his new teeth, one missing at the side that shows with the force of his grin. Mark smooths his hands down his boy’s clothes, before giving him a smile, “we do not want to scare him away.”
“Of course not,” he says, “have you seen Baba? I wanted to tell him too!”
“He’s gone to talk with your teachers,” Haneul pouts, a complete replica of Donghyuck whenever he does so. His heart bursts with a bubble of fondness, unfortunately not being able to spare more time for him. “Your classes start soon, do they not?” When he nods, he glances at his maid, asking if he’s ate breakfast well. Haneul beams when she says he did, Mark ruffling his hair before waving him a bye.
“Just one addition, and the entire palace is lit with a new brightness,” minister Yoon says, shaking his head when Mark apologizes for the wait. “Master Haneul is exactly like his father in his youth—I still remember working at the Duke’s house, his majesty a force to be reckoned with. He might have grown, but your son is the same.”
He might have grown. Or had it been something else? “One of the biggest things I am grateful to him for,” he admits, going over the papers, “but it is always hard admitting it to the people you need to, no?”
“It is only as difficult as you make it be,” he corrects, “his majesty has always been easy to please. Maybe you have lost touch, your highness.” He laughs as Mark playfully glares at the old man, as close as family his bond with the other. They head to the courtroom, an audience held with the town’s council, silence befalling the moment he takes his first steps in.
*
“Yes?” Donghyuck pulls down his hood, stepping near the door, “who is it?”
“His majesty, from the Kingdom of Solaris,” Jeno says, and immediately, there’s a quick murmur, doors opening. Donghyuck nods as they bow down to him, heading directly for his destination in mind, not having much time to spare. He cannot hog Jeno’s time for too long—he needs to head back to the palace and oversee Haneul’s practices after all. And then Donghyuck himself has so much pending work! So many more meetings before the winter solstice to make sure everything will be in order for the ceremonies, the town reports, then checking in with the court. Just thinking about it has him going dizzy. “Careful,” Jeno says, hand gentle as it comes to his elbow, the guard only a breath away as always. Donghyuck shares a split second of a glance with him, smiling in gratitude.
“Welcome, your majesty,” the head scholar, Master Moon says. Despite looking a humble man in his early thirties, he is at least a century older than all of them. He gestures for him to take a seat, Jeno taking stand behind him as the rest of the teachers pour in. There’s careful discussion about Haneul’s academics, his strengths and weaknesses. He tends to be little lost when it comes to dates and history, Jeno coughing into his hand. “Like his Apa, it seems.”
Donghyuck’s lips quirk at the corners. “If only he took to me completely,” he says, looking up, “I was a good student, was I not?”
“When you were not buys running away? You were one of our best,” he preens, glancing at Jeno to say ‘see?’. The other’s lips twitch, but he does not say anything. “He is not that bad—just a little more focus on that field, and it will all be brought up to par to his level for everything else. He’s quite versed in language though; above his level.” Donghyuck nods, reading his essays. They are good, of course but…
“You must mix his curriculum,” he says, “teach him to combine how history plays in language. How math determines the course of astronomy in so many ways. I know he is young, so of course forcing too much will not be good but…”
“He will have the mark of the brightest prince,” Taeil assures, just as Donghyuck shakes his head, mostly satisfied with everything else on their study plan. He hands over the rest of Haneul’s files to Jeno, who dutifully packs them in his bag.
“I do not think you all understand,” he says, standing, the room following his movement. Donghyuck draws up his hood, “Haneul must have the mark of the perfect king.”
*
“Do you not think he is being hasty?” Mark eats his scone, famished after the exhausting meeting, “I mean, the poor boy is only seven.”
“Donghyuck will not put him through anything that has him harmed,” he says, giving a pointed look. Renjun makes a face, unamused, “you and I—well, everyone knows this. Before ambition, he loves him more than anything in the world.”
“How adorable,” Renjun deadpans, “I am merely looking out for the boy. Send him for some art lessons again, I will gladly make time in my schedule. And what is this I am hearing about the recent uprisings?” Mark brushes it off, sitting up to meet the other’s eyes.
It’s a sky coloured robe today. Coupled with his bracelet and pendant, a dove sitting on the hollow of his throat. Mark reaches out to fix his strands away from his face, tucking them behind his ear. A faint blush works up the other’s face, and it makes his heart bloom with love. “My dearest Renjun,” he says, taking his hand, “please leave all the worrying to me. It does not suit you.”
“And it suits you?” he asks, grazing a thumb over his knuckles, thumbing the ring on his finger. As white as the colour of dove, forged from moonstone. Renjun glances at the place their hands meet, quiet. “There is unrest, in the energy of the water. The sky. I just fear, it does not reach us. Can they handle their riots and what not on their own? There is no need to get Solaris involved.”
“And ruin our reputation, years of hard won connections?” Renjun pouts, making him laugh. He brings his hand closer for a quick kiss, Renjun watching him as he stands to leave, “free your schedule tonight too—for me, not Haneul.”
“You do not need to ask,” he says, finger grazing the rim of his cup, “my quarters are as much yours as they are mine.”
Mark is heading to the stables for a quick ride around the fields to clear his mind, when he finds his husband arriving through the foyer. As always, Donghyuck’s steps are quick, attention focused solely on his file as he walks without regard for anything, knowing full well everyone will part for him. Not to mention, Jeno is just beside him; the guard making sure no thing obstructs his way either. Sometimes he pities the poor man for being stuck with his husband.
“Your highness,” Jeno pauses, bowing low, and Mark gestures for him to stand, Donghyuck finally stopping, glancing at him over the files. He must read something on his face, for he tells Jeno to go on without him. Though the moment he starts walking, Donghyuck grabs at his wrist, remembering something. “It is still bright out,” he says, “Haneul—“
“I am sure he knows as well as you do, Donghyuck,” Mark interrupts, stare fixed at their point of contact, one that Donghyuck ignores and Jeno is all too cautious about, pulling away gently before taking his leave. “It took longer than it normally does.”
“Needed to get through the town too,” he brushes off, “heading to the fields?”
“Care to join?” Donghyuck gives him a withering look, brushing past him.
“No,” he says, curt, “then I guess you will be with your beloved concubine tonight?” Mark’s mouth snaps shut. How does he always guess it? It’s a super power at this point. “Anyways—what is this about the uprisings in the mountains? I thought they had it controlled after the whole treaty.”
“They did,” they keep step, strides matching as they head down the hallway. He reads over the other’s shoulder, to see a whooping 97.5 in Haneul’s language paper. His chest fills with pride, absently noting down to take the boy around for a treat later. “Whoever they put in charge, the people are not taking well too. It started with petty riots and protests that they curbed—“
“—With violence.“ Donghyuck completes along with him, making him smile. “Truly, are we surprised a nation that runs on dictatorship and heeds to none is breaking apart? And now they must make this our problem.”
There is no need for Solaris to get involved. There is unrest. Renjun’s words come back to him, and he licks his lips, “at the same time, maybe we could finally ask Lotia to send their people? They—“
“No,” Donghyuck says, final. They stop right at the end of the hallway, Mark’s hands clasped behind his back, Donghyuck’s determined eyes locking with his. “I have time this weekend. We will need to make sure the parameters are clear for any base camps, otherwise a team of soldiers must be ready further down at our rest points. Lotia is too new, and too weak, and I think Renjun will think the same.” He hands him the file, Mark staring at how he managed to guess that too, “our son’s performing better than the average, and the best in our kingdom. I hope you approve the material I requested soon; he must start the rest of his classes by the end of this year.”
And with that, he’s gone, leaving him just as cold as he’d regarded him. Mark flips through, and while there is happiness…
There is also something so utterly bittersweet. It is your fault he is like this, he reminds, every single time he may get upset. Johnny’s words still close to his brain, even if his heart thinks something else, even the most radiant flowers come to an end, when they are stifled from the sun.
He sends a message to approve the materials, and takes his horse for a long, long ride, only heading back once the sun teeters on the horizon, Haneul pulling him into a game that he cannot say no to. He makes a goal, running straight for him, and in the moment Mark picks him up and turns his around, arms wrapped tight around his boy as he laughs against his shoulder, he feels it even more.
Thank you, he says, kissing his son’s forehead, for a gift I can never repay back.
*
“You could have been nicer,” Donghyuck frowns at the words, stepping out the bath to his room, Jeno as requested, inside and standing off to the side. Why he bothers with formality is beyond him, considering how long they have known each other. Donghyuck towels off his hair, hating the way the maids do it. He plops on his vanity, leg propped on his stepping stool, glancing over at the other, “and also not have grabbed my hand. In public. When it can come to the pride of the king.”
“And he can go frolic with whoever he desires, as I play woeful damsel?” He undoes the ribbon around his waist, letting the robe slip off and pool at the crook of his elbows. Jeno’s eyes skim over the golden skin, a moment too long to be appropriate before he averts his gaze to the floor, a tint to his neck, his ears. Donghyuck remains oblivious, massaging the lotion well. Summers always get him so dry, it is laughable. “What he feels is no longer my concern.”
“Does not always seem so,” Jeno quietly counters, and it makes his skin prick.
“Are you here for me, or for him?”
“I am here for the neither of you, if you are forgetting,” he says, calm, “I am here because I was sent with his grace, Renjun.” That has him biting the inside of his cheek, checking in his reflection to get a proper glimpse of the scar down the back of his shoulder. It’s been itching again; too much stress always affecting it. “Now who chose me for what, is a different matter.”
“It is an entirely simple matter,” he counters, meeting his eyes in the reflection when he looks up at the sound of his voice, hand still not managing to properly reach where it wants as he tries to desperately apply his cream, “you are mine and mine alone.”
Jeno scoffs a laugh, before taking pity on him, carefully turning him around to fully face the vanity. His fingers are slightly cold from the frigid air outside, gentle as they scoop a handful from the container and slowly lather it up. Donghyuck relaxes, the itch finally soothed, Jeno lingering a moment too long, eyes taking in the rest of the faded cuts.
Seven years, and the other still searches, for anyway they might have disappeared. “You did not dry your hair well,” he says, a click of his tongue, taking the towel and pushing it through his strands, along his scalp. Donghyuck grows languid under his care, before he pulls it off and brushes it back from his face, Donghyuck opening his eyes to see the other’s expression having softened to something else.
“I am,” he says, quiet, “yours, that is.” It makes him smile, warm and heart at so, so much ease. If nothing else—then he has him. Careful, quiet, and good Jeno. There have never been any lines crossed, because it feels like the most impossible thing to; the weight of his ring, of his vows heavy on tongue and on finger.
Yet.
Sometimes there is no need for more to be said, when actions and gestures speak well for themselves.
But it does not mean, the heart does not want.
When he stands, and the robe falls off completely. When Jeno does not look anywhere more as he pulls on his night dress. When he sits at the edge of his bed, and glances over, the light of the candles making golden waves dance across his beautiful features, bring to light his unwavering presence.
What would it be like, to have those lips to himself? To lean up, and close the distance? To feel loved, and love another?
“Will you stay here, tonight?” he asks, and Jeno sighs, a pause that makes him nervous.
Donghyuck hates sleeping alone. Hates being the only one in the room. They do not let him keep his boy close either, something about independence the world will force him to learn anyway. Donghyuck is very aware it is because they fear he will love his father more than he will love his people, will want to fight for him instead of fight for the kingdom.
It does not matter, either way—Donghyuck does not care who fights for what, who cares for him and who does not. But he will not let his place by his son’s side taken, will not let him see a fate like his own.
Donghyuck will make him king, even if it comes at the cost of himself.
“Only tonight,” he says, not moving an inch to the bed, instead keeping his post right against the wall. “Good night, Hyuck.”
It makes him smile. Only tonight—to be promised a thousand nights more. Donghyuck falls asleep to the comfort that is knowing his name is taken with care, from at least one if not the other.
*
Mark steps in, a little confused by the lack of sound, wondering if he were waking the other up. But the candles are still burning in his room, it is only the windows are open, the balcony too, a sight greeted that takes his breath away.
Under the stars and the quiet of the night, there is a canvas, and in front of it a painter that is equally suitable to be a muse. Mark shrugs off his jacket and suit, throwing it in the hamper, heading to the bath to clean up the day’s grime, fully aware the other will know exactly who is bustling about in his room. He pulls on his night robe, stepping out to see Renjun leaned against the doorframe of the balcony, smiling as he sees the messy and tired sight of him.
“Come here,” he beckons, a hand stretched out that Mark steps to easily, cupping his face while the other perches on his shoulder. Renjun’s clad in his own night dress, a flowy thing that is as good as a piece of unmade cloth, soft to the touch when he grabs at his waist. “I almost thought you would not come.”
“I made a promise,” he says, and leans in to kiss him, Renjun’s smile against his lips the most beautiful thing in the world. It sends all the butterflies in his stomach fluttering about, sends his entire being into calm. Renjun sighs when he deepens the kiss, when he gets more eager, but he feels so free, he cannot. His son is doing well, their kingdom is thriving at its best since his reign; it is only justified, he would like to end the night with a night of love.
“Slow down,” Renjun laughs, a sweet sound that goes down to his gut, the flushed skin of his face, yet the eager approach of his hands all over Mark talking two different stories when he pushes him down on the bed, slipping the fabric off his shoulders, Renjun doing the same as he trails kisses down his shoulders, his arms, his hands.
It is always a different experience; the heat, the rush, the beauty of it all. What letting yourself have one thing you love could mean the entire world, that in those few moments you forget everything else. Mark only lets himself be selfish, when it is the other. Mark only begs, when it is for the other. All these years, and the spark has never felt, just as alight as the day it had been lit.