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“Bless the king, bless his youth...” Yeosang repeats as he walks through the castle.
Familiar words leave his mouth along with a monotone tone of voice. Dropped eyes and gaze somewhat unfocused. No kind of vibrant emotion brings out the brownish color of his beautiful eyes, as Jongho often says.
The tip of the sword scrapes the floor of the castle as it is dragged along the ground. The constant raspy noise anchors him to that moment and is his faithful companion. Yeosang takes another step down the corridor.
The light fabrics that adorn his body represent an uncomfortable weight now. Stained, wrinkled, ruined. While the black fabric conceals the red pigment, the silver details highlight the blood. It will dry out and itch his skin. It makes sense, doesn’t it? Yeosang wonders. Blood always leaves a mess behind, isn’t that right?
Just as many times visualizing a red detail has been enough to push him forward and for adrenaline to course through his veins, many other times the blood has forced him to move slowly.
“If you blink, you will miss the truth...” Yeosang no longer counts the number of times he has heard that string of words.
Said words represent the kingdom, they are sung with pride, and louder each time an enemy seeks to mock the song. Jongho is still a young king after all, and yet, at twenty-three years old, he’s already underrated by some, feared by others, and loved by a few.
Yeosang makes sure to keep his hand around the hilt of the sword once he stops in front of the doors that lead to the king’s private bathhouse —too heavy, it's uncomfortable, it's irritating. He crosses the doors, and his eyes finally meet the image he expected to find.
With his arms left on the edge of the pool, his head thrown back and his eyes closed, Jongho dares to relax. Enjoying the spaciousness of the pool in which he is, with warm water covering most of his built figure. Yeosang runs his eyes over Jongho's exposed torso, allowing his eyes to revel in the display of his broad shoulders, and firm muscles that, from his own experience, Yeosang knows are comfortable to rest his head on.
Yeosang blinks. He resents said calmness. He brings his free hand into the folds of his clothes until his fingers find the familiar silver of the dagger he always carries with him. The dagger leaves his hand as he throws it towards Jongho, but the tip hits the wall and ends up falling to the floor.
“You have missed,” Jongho opens his eyes but his gaze falls on the ceiling.
“I have not.” Yeosang assures him.
They both know he hasn't missed his aim.
Jongho finally straightens up and stares at him.
“I was hoping for you to bless me with your...” Yeosang is aware of the look that Jongho gives him after starting that sentence. He scans him from head to toe with his eyes, not seeming at all impressed with the red color that interrupts the black and silver of his clothing, nor with the serious expression that currently guides his face. “Captivating presence.”
“Your flirtatious words will be of no use to you.”
Yeosang finds appealing the way Jongho tilts his head before allowing the corners of his mouth to twitch upward despite the words he's heard.
“Is that your blood?”
“You know it isn't. You forgot your sword.”
“I must have dropped it,” as Jongho once again straightens up to pronounce those words along with a trace of irony and amusement in his words, Yeosang confirms what he has previously thought. Jongho left his sword behind on purpose. “Oops.”
Being such a calculated and meticulous king, those words are a blatant lie.
“You are boring.” Yeosang chooses to say.
“Boring?”
“Swords are boring.”
Yeosang takes a deep breath. He inhales, allowing air to travel to his lungs. As one of his hands steadies the bow, the other keeps the arrow ready for when he decides to shoot it.
His eyes focus on the red detail that he plans to target with his arrow, and finally releases it. The arrow does find the apple, and he lets out a breath, freeing himself from the nervousness he's been building up.
Jongho didn't even react to the arrow that struck the apple above his head, and approaches him, now with it in his hand.
“You haven't even reacted,” Yeosang points out aloud, lowering the bow.
He doesn't know why he's somewhat disappointed, if even slightly. Every person seeks to inflict at least some kind of fear in a king, he assumes. If Jongho has ever been afraid of him, his words, or his actions, Yeosang doesn't know.
“I trust you,” Jongho says, without adding another word.
Yeosang wonders if equating those words to a compliment is a good decision. Despite his constant hand tremors and the time he spent without holding a bow and shooting arrows, he did hit the target.
He narrows his eyes slightly, wondering if perhaps the strongest compliment is the lack of reaction from Jongho —the real target has never been the apple.
There are many apples. There is only one Jongho.
“I see your shoulder has healed, then,” Jongho adds.
That's true. His previous injury now represents nothing more than a slight discomfort. No bandage covers his shoulder, and holding the bow isn't painful.
“I have missed my dear bow,” Yeosang says, looking at it.
He has missed being able to straighten his elbows and stand steady, holding a bow and an arrow. He has always considered himself one with them and has shed sincere tears at the thought of never again being able to describe himself as an archer.
Yeosang looks up when he spots the apple falling onto the grass, and finds Jongho holding the arrow to his chest, its tip against his heart, pressing and threatening.
“This is how I felt when my eyes fell on you for the first time,” Jongho expresses.
Don’t hold an arrow against your heart, it’s dangerous, Yeosang wants to say, but maybe that's exactly what Jongho implied with the pronunciation of those words.
A king resting his eyes on one of the many knights in his ranks? Unbelievable.
A reality, now.
“Flirty king,” Yeosang says along with a sideways smile.
“Pretty archer,” Jongho holds a similar smiling gesture, until he quickly remains serious again. “I have designated Seonghwa as my new general. You have my permission to join him, but please don't stay away from me.”
Yeosang stares at Jongho, wondering why he feels so surprised by the words he hears. His eyes widen slightly, and his heart is the one that ends up feeling threatened, even when no arrow threatens to damage his skin and much more.
Jongho has always detested his —former, now— general. Even more so since the general treated him badly right in front of Jongho’s eyes. Yeosang might have learned to win battles without having to leave the castle walls, wearing fine fabrics and distinct jewelry, but not once was he told that he wouldn’t be able to soil his body with dirt.
Instead of reacting to the arrow that has flown over his head, Jongho reacts to the possibility of not being able to hold him anymore. Just as there are many apples and only one Jongho, many people aim their arrows at Jongho's head and chest, but only he leaves his head on Jongho's chest.
“You better not be distracted from your tasks when you see me casually training right outside your window, perfectly positioned in your direct line of sight—” Jongho drops the arrow in favor of resting his hands on his cheeks. Jongho seals their lips together, interrupting his subtle declaration of reciprocity.
But in case Jongho is still afraid, because even a king can be afraid and he doesn't need a bow or an arrow to scare Jongho, Yeosang also drops his bow to catch Jongho's fabrics between his fingers and reciprocate Jongho’s kiss.
He has always returned to the kingdom and the castle to allow Jongho's gratitude to fall on his shoulders and his heart. Now Jongho can sigh the words thank you for returning safely into his ear and capture his lips with his after adding, in a whisper, for coming back to me.
Perhaps for Jongho, a person destined to witness chaos after being a king, and for him, convinced to face the worst terrors imagined, death is nothing more than a simple destiny.
“Get rid of that red color and join me,” Jongho asks him.
“You stain your hands, but not the water?”
“My hands were made to be covered in red,” it's the truth. “Join me, I even added those flowers you fancy.”
Yeosang’s eyes drift to the water around Jongho. Pink petals certainly interrupt the crystallinity of the water. Jongho never misses a chance to express how much he likes them as the color reminds him of his pink locks. Yeosang has always considered roses to be his favorite flower.
Pleased with that detail, Yeosang hums before heading towards the smaller pool in the place. The clothes that Jongho has dropped next to it are not a surprise, nor is the dark color that the water has acquired.
Yeosang doesn't care about the clink that echoes between the walls of the place after dropping Jongho's sword to the ground, and he takes off his clothes. It's simple and effective, since even if the see-through fabric that covers his legs slowed his pace after being stained with blood, most of his chest remains bare, and brushing aside the straps on his shoulders is enough for his clothes to fall and pool at his feet.
Being aware that Jongho's intense gaze never once leaves his figure, Yeosang lowers the step that allows him to enter the pool and promptly lets the water cover him.
He comes out of the water, and brushes back some pink strands. Now with drops of water following his path, Yeosang leaves the small pool to approach the one where Jongho is, and accepts the hand that Jongho offers him to straddle his lap.
“You have tricked me.” Yeosang states.
He settles into Jongho's lap, feeling the firmness of Jongho's thighs beneath him as well as the outline of his cock. His knees and legs are on the sides of Jongho's thighs, on the surface that represents the seat of the pool. Despite the physical closeness, Yeosang chooses to mention those words, since physical closeness, and emotional closeness as well, are exactly what Jongho has used to distract him.
Instead of offering an immediate answer, Jongho lets go of his hand and looks around him. He seems to find what he's looking for, as he promptly offers him one of the many flowers present, and Yeosang accepts it.
Just as he can firmly hold a sword, he can delicately hold a flower.
“You fell for it,” Jongho says, bringing his face closer to his.
“For you,” Yeosang corrects him, letting the flower float on the water again. Jongho smiles at the correction he hears, and Yeosang takes the opportunity to run his gaze over Jongho’s face, noticing the way Jongho has wet his brown locks to push them back. “Why have you tricked me?”
Jongho blinded him with pleasure. He skilfully used his hands and his mouth to cloud his head with lust and get him to focus on their closeness and the comfort of Jongho's bed.
He woke up without Jongho by his side. The windows of the chambers allowed the moon to illuminate the empty space next to him and he soon left the softness of the covers. He used the dark corners of the castle to approach the chambers reserved for one of the advisors who had been staying in the castle those last few days. Babbling about the importance of the alliance between their respective kingdoms, glancing at him every so often.
Although daylight has accompanied him in his movements more than once, he planned to use the darkness of the night to his advantage, as well as the dagger that he previously threw, comfortably stored between the folds of his clothing. But he came across the reality that someone else arrived before him.
Jongho.
“He touched you,” Jongho responds, and Yeosang sticks his tongue out as he remembers how said counselor did more than glance at him, since he dared to wrap his hand around his arm after wanting to say a few words to him. “And you? Why?”
Well, expressing the words he touched you too would be a lie. No one can touch Jongho, he’s a king after all. Yeosang allows the tip of his tongue to peek out between his teeth as he smiles, thinking that he can indeed touch Jongho and that he’s currently perched comfortably on his lap.
“He was planning on betraying you.”
He might adorn his figure with fine fabrics and his body with refined jewelry, as well as his face with a neutral expression, but he knew there was something skeptical the second he saw the counselor. That's his purpose, after all, to give the wrong idea, confirm his suspicions, and take care of them.
“You are so good to me, aren't you? You save me,” Jongho's words tickle his mouth.
“Be my concubine.”
Yeosang raises an eyebrow as soon as he hears those words. A deep blush doesn't cover his cheeks, no exclamation of joy threatens to leave his mouth, and he doesn't feel impressed.
Jongho remains in front of him, staring at him. The lack of an immediate laugh assures Yeosang that Jongho didn't express those words to mock him.
Has King Jongho actually gone mad?
“Pardon my... boldness, Your Majesty, but I cannot provide you with a child.” Yeosang states although he believes that his body alone shows the truthfulness of his words. “What you hide under those robes is the same I have.”
“I do not wish a child, what I need is information.”
Yeosang raises an eyebrow again.
“About my private parts?”
“About my court.” Jongho corrects him, and Yeosang narrows his gaze. “I need someone close to me with vast knowledge about military tactics and political arguments. You are an excellent archer and a well-known knight, and I need your brain.”
“Yet here you are, asking for my body.”
“I do save you, but there will be consequences,” Yeosang murmurs that reality into Jongho's mouth.
“Nothing I can't handle.”
“You shouldn't let the power go to your head.”
Jongho is a careful king. He analyzes his interactions and gives himself time to reflect. No detail goes unnoticed by his calculating gaze and he thinks, thinks, and thinks. But other times he's impulsive, doesn't connect his thoughts with his actions, and acts before even processing the moment —many times Yeosang finds himself being a part of such situations.
Yeosang doesn't mind said impulsiveness. It reminds him that Jongho is human, and he loves knowing that he’s the person who manages to bring out Jongho's irrational side. However, the crown on Jongho's head is still heavy, and as king, his words and actions have consequences.
“Power? My head?” Jongho asks, caressing his arms with his hands and momentarily sliding his gaze downwards. Between them, underwater, and Yeosang smiles at him, just as amused as Jongho does.
Pleased with the gentle way Jongho traces imaginary lines with his fingers along his arms, Yeosang taps Jongho's temple with his index finger.
“This head.”
“I have you to remind me that I am just another person, with feelings and thoughts, hopes and fears,” Jongho says, suddenly serious, “That I am more than a king,” and it's the truth, Jongho is still much more than the guide of a kingdom.
Someone touched Yeosang. Someone made a mistake.
A death wish.
“I am here to remind you that you're a fool, you are that too.”
“Yes? That is what I am?” Jongho arches an eyebrow, sounding and looking amused. One corner of his mouth lifts and Yeosang straightens up when Jongho finally places his hands on his waist. “A fool for falling for you.”
Many times Yeosang has heard people who dare to call Jongho a fool. For not imposing a certain law, for rejecting a certain alliance, or for looking after his people through his own methods. Yeosang has seen how Jongho usually reacts. He remains serious and stoic, yet his eyes speak for themselves.
But with him, it's different. Jongho is amused by his audacity.
“It's smart to fall for me,” Yeosang wraps his arms around Jongho's neck.
“Hongjoong, you are close to Seonghwa, aren't you?”
“Yes, Prince Jongho, I am.”
“The person who is usually with him, do you happen to know his name? He has a birthmark, near his eye, I believe.”
“That would be Kang Yeosang, excellent at archery and fluent in sarcasm, from what I have heard.”
“I see. Thank you.”
“Yes?”
“Well, of course, and you're also a bear.”
“A bear?”
“Dangerous, and yet you're adorable.”
Jongho is dangerous, he made sure to do and say what was necessary for said adjective to be attached to his name. Just as many kingdoms equate proposing an alliance with a mistake, others don’t allow themselves to mention Jongho's name when a possible attack is the center of the conversation. With his kingdom pointed out on the map and his youth underestimated, Jongho managed to prove that a number is a number, and that acting according to one's age can be advantageous.
However, Jongho is adorable too. With round cheeks and a playful side that perhaps others describe as immature. A brat who occupied the throne way too early. Yeosang has heard those words more than once.
“Adorable,” Jongho raises both eyebrows.
“Will you repeat everything I say?” Yeosang asks him, finally allowing an amused smile to replace the previous seriousness on his face, because if Jongho is playful with him, he also allows himself to be playful with Jongho.
Yeosang doesn't know who says it first, who is the first to allow the emotions of his heart to travel up his throat until they tickle his palate with sweet words. They both part their lips and their whispered words step on each other.
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
He once again finds himself trapped between the sprawl of Jongho's bed and Jongho himself. Jongho is hovering over him, staring at him.
Yeosang should feel powerful, he’s aware of that. Knowing that a king, and none other than Jongho, is in love with him, should plant a vain smile on his face and a sense of certainty on his shoulders. But an honest smile adorns his face and he rejoices at the words he hears. He loves Jongho just as much, and said love is reciprocated.
The way Jongho smiles at him before leaning in to catch his lips with his own assures Yeosang that no intruder will ever manage to use the love between them as a weapon, at least not to tear them apart.
“I shall silence your words instead of copying them.”
Yeosang smiles, anticipating the kiss that Jongho promises. While with others, Jongho uses other methods to keep certain voices quiet, with him, he only needs to lean forward to press his lips to his. Yeosang makes sure to keep his arms around Jongho's neck. To keep Jongho close, with the water around them cooling off but their bodies warming up.
Jongho claims his lips, digging his fingertips into his waist and seeking to reduce any distance between them. “I'm addicted to you,” Jongho says before kissing him again.
Yeosang thinks he can feel said addiction, and it feels good. He’s fully aware that Jongho could become addicted to collecting wealth. Jewels, lands. People, even. Jongho is unable to stay away from him, and once again Yeosang finds himself reveling in being the byword for addiction.
“Addictions are not good for your health, My Lord,” Yeosang manages to say, inhaling a breath of air as Jongho leans back.
"You're not good for my health," and yet Jongho softly pulls on his lower lip.
“But I am for your kingdom.”
"Your Majesty, allow me to introduce you to my son, Yeosang,” Yeosang widens his eyes when he listens to his father. Your Majesty no longer means that Jongho's father is close to them. “He has joined your lines, under the guidance of Colonel Park Seonghwa. His abilities in archery are extraordinary, I am sure he will help your new reign.”
Yeosang turns around and immediately bows his head.
“Your Majesty,” Jongho is the king now, the crown on his head is proof enough of it.
They are celebrating his coronation, his new position.
Yeosang slowly raises his gaze. It isn't the first time that his eyes fall on Jongho but it is the first time that they are so close to each other. On any other occasion he probably would have thrown a look at his father for flaunting the abilities that he has honed day by day, but denoting the details that make up Jongho is more important at that moment.
The crown on Jongho's head disarranges his dark locks, and Yeosang feels the corners of his mouth threaten to lift since the crown seems to be a little big for his head. He's even more handsome up close, Yeosang thinks. While his cheeks are round, his nose is buttoned, and his eyes end up falling on the mole present on Jongho's neck.
Their eyes meet and Jongho offers him a slight nod of his head, even if he never stops looking at him. Yeosang doesn't understand why he has often heard people mention feeling intimidated by Jongho's presence. He doesn't feel particularly intimidated. Seen, rather.
And he enjoys the feeling.
“May we be of help to each other, then, Yeosang?”
Under the glittery layers of fabric that decorate his body, Yeosang feels the heavy rhythm of his breathing and the way his heart flutters. He definitely likes the sentiment, as well as the bold and confident way in which Jongho expresses his name —he understands why the older generations haven't been completely in favor of Jongho's ascension.
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Yeosang bows his head again.
Yeosang can't blame Jongho, not when he too is often nonsensical and his train of thought is illogical. Jongho is the person who leads him to commit disasters with his own hands, so it's only fair that he is the reason behind Jongho's madness.
“You are, and despite many times worrying my heart, I hope you know that it continues to beat for you,” Jongho says, staring at him.
At the pronunciation of those words, Yeosang stops keeping his arms around Jongho's neck to spread his palms over his chest. Jongho's heart beats under his touch. Strongly, firmly. Being a king with a heart is braver and far more dangerous than being a king without a heart.
“If you dare lay a single finger on him, you are done for good.”
Yeosang holds a dagger near his own neck —a dagger made of silver that Jongho has very kindly lent him after he suggested wanting to carry one with him. He has turned the court into his battlefield, and fortunately, Jongho has understood that the marble floors, the walls full of paintings, and the tables decorated with flowers may represent a nice image, but he himself has said that his court is deceptive.
He holds the dagger just inches from his own neck because he’s defending himself rather than attacking. It’s a subtle provocation. Get close enough to me and I won't hesitate to use it. The General still holds his hand up, because he plans to slap him, that's clear, even though Jongho just intoned those words firmly. The ones around them have stopped talking, and it’s evident that the political meeting that was planned has become a social spectacle.
Yeosang has never liked the General. From bad decisions that have complicated situations, underestimation towards Seonghwa, to unpleasant words thrown in his direction, he has always been a victim of such dismissive behavior, and Yeosang continues to wait for the day Seonghwa replaces him.
“You heard your king.” the General says.
He may have provoked him, Yeosang won't deny that. He’s sitting at the table where the map of the kingdoms is spread out. He wanted to take advantage of the fact that he is now known for being Jongho's personal company to have a better view of the map. He has always ended up idly at any meeting he has been allowed to attend —his father has frowned every time he has told him that he has had to stay away from the head table because he is another knight and their last name is just another last name. Being able to attend some meetings has been a result of his father's abilities, Yeosang doesn't doubt that.
So getting comfortable was the plan. Now supported by Jongho's presence, Yeosang even gently tugged on Seonghwa's sleeve so that Seonghwa could also analyze the map. But of course, the General focused on him, and he felt urged to take his dagger out once the General sought to assure that he doesn’t have enough patience, and that his injured shoulder won't stop him from hurting him.
At least he's now able to move his arm enough to hold a dagger.
And not once has he failed to be willing to act on Jongho's behalf.
“I was talking to you, General.”
Yeosang allows a smile to spread across his face as soon as he hears that Jongho has defended him. It must hurt, and Yeosang can visualize a bruised ego in the way the General frowns and lowers his hand. The king favors his concubine over his most important general —at least that's how the others see the situation.
They don't even need other people from other kingdoms to approach the castle for Yeosang to be underestimated. That is the reason why he has agreed to stay close to Jongho.
“You heard your king,” Yeosang permits himself to express the same words previously heard.
The General hates him, that's pretty obvious.
“This is absurd.”
“Very well,” Jongho says. “Seonghwa will lead the meeting from now on.”
Yeosang agrees to lower the dagger once the General leaves, too offended to remain present. Seonghwa's voice is heard soon enough, because Seonghwa is efficient and responsible, and doesn't ask him to get off the table. Yeosang's eyes fall to the map, happy with the possibility of studying the territory, until he feels an intense gaze on him. Yeosang looks up and his eyes meet Jongho's brownish gaze.
He wonders if maybe he has crossed the line —many times Seonghwa tells him that he does so and that being the king's favorite doesn't mean that he should go around the castle provoking others; but Jongho winks at him before turning his eyes to the table, and Yeosang finds himself smiling.
Strangely enough, Seonghwa is one of the few people aware of the role he plays in the castle, and yet, he has never backed down from referring to him as Jongho's favorite.
“My heart beats for you as well,” Yeosang says.
He's sure that Jongho doesn't need to stop keeping his hands on his waist to equally feel the way his heart is pounding. Every heartbeat belongs to Jongho. The bravery, the adrenaline, the uncertainty. He has always welcomed any emotion that decided to take over his heart while he has found himself attacking and defending in the name of the kingdom. He has always done so with the image of Jongho in his head.
“Then you understand why I do what I do and why I say what I say,” Jongho once again brings his face closer to his, switching his gaze between him and his lips, and Yeosang wants to look at him seriously because that’s an excuse.
Jongho must have found out that he was planning to have an interesting night and he beat him to it. He does understand why Jongho does what he does and why he says what he says. It thrills him to know that Jongho is also willing to get his hands dirty for him too.
“You have stolen the words from my mouth.”
“Let me steal something else,” this time Jongho lets his eyes linger on his mouth.
“You're a king, you always steal,” Yeosang provokes him, because he can, and smiles again when Jongho falls for his provocations and steals a kiss from him.
Yeosang grimaces as he tries to finish placing the bandage on his shoulder. Before he can even try again, a pair of considerate hands find his shoulder.
“Let me help you,” Jongho says, sitting in front of him.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Yeosang notices the way Jongho momentarily looks at him and opens his mouth, but soon focuses back on his shoulder and forms a line with his lips. He's sure that Jongho has been on the verge of telling him not to refer to him with that title. They're supposedly in a relationship now, he's the closest person to Jongho, so he doesn't have to use that title.
“Does it hurt?” Jongho ends up asking.
Yeosang allows his eyes to fall to his shoulder. The area is still bruised and the bandages covering it prevent the wound from deepening. He definitely can't lift his arm or make much movement.
“A little,” Yeosang articulates in a small voice.
He swallows. It hurts, a lot, and not precisely the physical attack that he has suffered. He has been part of several confrontations. It hurts him not to know if he will ever have the ability to hold a bow and arrow again. Jongho finishes arranging the bandages on his shoulder and Yeosang seeks to blink rapidly when his gaze clouds.
“You are under my care now.”
Yeosang looks at Jongho when he hears him, and finds Jongho looking at him.
“Aren't all of us, Your Majesty?”
“Extra care. I will take extra care of you.”
Yeosang tilts his head, wondering the reason behind those words when they are currently alone. They have agreed to pretend in front of others. Jongho gently brushes his chin with his knuckles, prompting him to straighten up, and gives him a small smile before standing up.
Yeosang follows him with his gaze. His chin tickles.
“As if you were innocent.” Jongho's hands go up to his lower back and Yeosang licks his lips before being the one to lower his eyes to Jongho's lips.
“I am not, and that is why I am here with you,” he says before kissing Jongho.
With his hands trapped between their bodies since his palms are on Jongho's chest, Yeosang knows he can't describe himself with the word innocent, and that Jongho is not innocent either.
Every person who belongs to the court is not innocent, they have been tainted with selfishness or determination in some way or another. And if they have the opportunity to consider themselves close to Jongho, even more so. Jongho can't be innocent. He said it himself. His hands were created to be stained with blood. First as an heir, the Crown Prince, and then as the new king of the kingdom. A king always has to make difficult decisions, but Yeosang believes that it was an easy decision for Jongho to choose him.
This time Yeosang deepens the kiss between them instead of pulling away, and Jongho catches the moan that leaves his lips at the friction between their cocks.
Has Jongho really uttered the words be my concubine?
“I need a companion,” Jongho clarifies.
Still, Yeosang once again raises an eyebrow.
“I am a knight.”
“Both are based on loyalty, yes?”
“Very different ways of loyalty.” perhaps now Yeosang understands why many have viewed Jongho as way too young to ascend to the throne. Does Jongho approach every wounded knight to make such a proposal? Yeosang resents representing nothing more than another face in Jongho's eyes. “Although my shoulder suffered the most, I wasn't the only person hurt. Why me?”
“Because I have never asked this of anyone, and I admit that my eyes have slipped to you from time to time.”
Yeosang blinks, happy to hear that Jongho doesn’t consider him another face that has decided to defend the kingdom with his body. Jongho admits out loud that on several occasions his gaze has slipped to him, and therefore his attention and his interest —Yeosang himself has caught Jongho looking at him from time to time. If he caught Jongho, it means he was looking at Jongho.
But this is not a conversation he has hoped to have.
“So you do admit that you want my body and not my brain.”
“I want both.” Jongho takes a step towards him. “I want you.” Yeosang swallows. “Be my lover— pretend to be my lover. I insist.”
Jongho wraps one of his arms around his waist and brings his other hand to the back of his neck to keep him close, even if at no point does Yeosang plan to move away from him.
The kiss becomes erratic and messy when Yeosang’s lips refuse to cooperate and little sounds leave his mouth as his body reacts to the constant friction between their cocks. Every inch of his skin responds to their closeness, and he leaves his hands on Jongho’s shoulders because Jongho always holds him.
He can't stay still now, and just like hours ago, his body ends up finding Jongho's.
Yeosang runs his gaze over Jongho's back.
His muscles are noticeable and firm. He’s tense. Surprisingly enough, no scars from all the sparring sessions that he has surely been a part of interrupt his skin. Small scratches do decorate his shoulder blades, and Yeosang brushes his lips with his fingertips because he knows that said detail is a product of his nails.
A king carries the weight of his title and his reign, it falls on his crown and his back.
Jongho must be strong.
Pushing the covers aside, Yeosang sits on his knees behind Jongho and crosses his arms around Jongho's neck until he joins his hands above his chest, taking advantage of the fact that his shoulder doesn't bother him now, at least not when he performs that action.
“You're quiet,” Yeosang’s whispered words find Jongho's nape.
Many times Jongho chooses to remain silent, Yeosang has noticed. It isn't a problem. Jongho is a king, his king, his thoughts must be louder than all the words he utters. What he does consider a problem, though, is that Jongho should feel comfortable sharing such doubts with him. They stay side by side because their closeness is supposed to be useful to Jongho.
Before he even has time to wonder if he's somehow failed Jongho, Jongho takes his hands in his and turns his head to look at him. Yeosang holds his gaze, thinking that Jongho looks handsome, with tousled locks and the first sunrays of the day illuminating his features.
“A king is honest. When he wants to, that is,” Jongho expresses, and Yeosang keeps watching him because Jongho looks vulnerable. It's just the two of them, away from the others and in Jongho's chambers. “You must know, you must be aware, that I am not pretending.”
Yeosang feels the way Jongho intertwines their fingers, and he can't help but wonder if that gesture means that Jongho expects him to move away at the mention of those words and wants to prevent him from slipping through his fingers. But Yeosang holds his gaze, understanding that the kisses given and caresses shared have never been an act.
“I may know how to deceive enemies, My King, but not my heart,” Yeosang is sincere.
Jongho gets rid of his stiffness and brings his face closer to his until their foreheads touch. Yeosang allows Jongho to guide his hands towards his heart, but leans back to kiss Jongho's cheek.
“May I touch you?” Jongho barely pulls apart to formulate said question.
Yeosang licks his lips, with the answer ready on the tip of his tongue. Jongho is already touching him. While one of his arms stays around his waist, his other hand has never once left his nape. Your hands are on me, is the answer Yeosang wants to offer, but the anticipation of something else leads him to blurt out different words.
“Are you asking for permission, My Lord?” yes, yes, yes, Yeosang means.
Jongho has the right to move his hands over his body however he pleases because that's what the rules establish. It may not be written, but it's a rule nonetheless. Jongho has the right to take, take, and take. Yet Jongho has never proceeded to trace his skin with his fingers, much less slide his hands towards areas that will consequently draw a moan out of him, unless he has allowed him to.
Yeosang looks at him when Jongho brings his face closer to his. He’s Jongho's exception.
“Only because you are the one listening.”
And Jongho is his exception.
“You may touch me,” Yeosang gives him permission along with those words.
Jongho traces his collarbones with his fingertips to soon travel his chest. Yeosang rejoices in the tickling sensation that Jongho's touch leaves behind as it goes down his torso and until water Jongho's covers his hand, and Yeosang lets out a moan when Jongho wraps said meticulous fingers around his cock.
The kingdom prospers.
People celebrate King Jongho and his reign, the absence of threatening enemies, and the presence of powerful allies. His youth is honored and his decisions are respected. Bless the king, bless his youth, the people chant. The lack of long years sitting on the most important throne is a blessing and not a curse. If you blink and don't look twice, the voices continue singing, you will miss the truth.
A real king never succeeds if alone.
Jongho moves his hand along Yeosang's shaft and Yeosang wastes no time trying to stop the sounds that inevitably end up leaving his mouth. He lets his moans tickle Jongho's mouth, aware of how much Jongho delights in such reactions. Jongho's cock throbs and Yeosang prouds himself in knowing Jongho that well.
He keeps his hands on Jongho's shoulders, until he finds unfair the way Jongho studies his reactions with his brownish pupils while Jongho hasn't even reacted to the previously thrown dagger, and if there's one thing Yeosang knows how to do, it's get a reaction out of Jongho one way or another, sooner or later.
“What is between us is— ah—” Yeosang bites his lip and resents Jongho yet loves the way Jongho leans into him to place a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. Once again Jongho is trying to distract him with his hands and his mouth, but Yeosang, though definitely distracted and placid, won't allow it. “Is always mutual, isn't it, My Lord?”
With Jongho's intriguing gaze on him, Yeosang knows that he too has the right to take, that the word please doesn't need to leave his mouth. He stops keeping one of his hands on Jongho's shoulder to caress Jongho's chest and abdominal muscles.
“Your mouth and your hands, all of you is dangerous,” Jongho expresses.
In return, Yeosang offers him a smile. He presses the tips of his fingers against his stomach, liking the feeling of softness under his touch, and doesn't seek to contradict Jongho as he readily imitates his actions and dips his hand in the water to wrap his —dangerous, according to Jongho— hand around Jongho's cock.
He finally manages to break the seriousness that more often than not Jongho forces to guide his expression. Yeosang stares at Jongho as he groans and tilts his head back when he swipes his thumb over the tip of Jongho's cock. Jongho struggles, and just as Yeosang forms a tense line and grips his bow with his hand when problems appear to destabilize Jongho, he loves to pose a threat to Jongho's steadfastness.
“Are you talking about me or you?” Yeosang asks him.
Jongho straightens up and gives a firm little tug that gets Yeosang to gasp. Yeosang is sure that once again they will end up trying to pleasure each other —both insist on provoking the other, with words and gestures, and both know how stubborn the other can be.
“About us,” Jongho replies.
Yeosang notices the way Jongho momentarily slides his gaze, and Yeosang follows it until his eyes fall on the only accessory that he has never gotten rid of and never plans to get rid of.
A bracelet made of gold with a black detail around his bicep.
“I will give you a bracelet as well. For your arm, that is.”
Yeosang widens his eyes at the mention of those words, especially at the pronunciation of the word bracelet. They are minutes away from the start of a dance after Jongho made the supposed relationship, or at least closeness between them, official, and they are still in Jongho's chambers.
“A bracelet, Your Majesty?”
He knows exactly what Jongho is talking about.
Jongho promptly sits down next to him, and Yeosang continues to widen his eyes, not caring if his face betrays his surprise, when once Jongho opens the small box on his lap, a golden arm bracelet appears before his gaze.
“It establishes that you are from my inner circle and that no one can bother you.”
Jongho holds the armband between them and Yeosang knows what that accessory means.
Only a few have been seen, since just as Jongho said, the people he trusts are those who decorate their arms with said accessory. So far Yeosang has only seen Seonghwa wearing one, his guide and friend since he joined the ranks, Hongjoong, Jongho's advisor, San and Wooyoung, a duo that Yeosang has learned do more than have fun at court, and Yunho and Mingi, who are currently far from the kingdom, closing important deals.
Jongho gently wraps one of his hands around his wrist to hold his arm, and Yeosang's eyes cautiously follow the way Jongho slides the bracelet up his arm until it sits perfectly around his bicep. So many times has he longed for that moment, so many times has he visualized that image in his head, so many times has he dreamed of having his own armband, that he can't help but keep his eyes on said accessory, even when Jongho lets go of his hand.
He has always wanted a gold band, ever since he heard the rumor about their existence and Seonghwa allowed him to see it up close after showing it to him. It means that the king trusts you, that you belong to his inner circle, that Jongho appreciates you.
Yeosang tilts his head and frowns slightly, somewhat confused when he notices that unlike the other bracelets he's seen so far, his has a thin black vertical line.
“Mine has a black detail...” he thinks out loud.
“Pardon me?”
Yeosang looks at Jongho after realizing that he has turned his thoughts into words.
“Only mine has the black detail,” he repeats, this time a little louder.
“Because only you are my lover,” Jongho offers automatically, and Yeosang holds his gaze. “The only lover I have, that I want, that—” Jongho clears his throat and Yeosang feels his heart thunder against his chest. “That is, my— my supposed lover. Forgive me for not giving it to you sooner. I meant to add the black detail before handing it.”
Yeosang bites his lower lip at those words. The reality is that when Hongjoong appeared before him to show him the outfits he designed for him to make his court debut, with a shoulder still injured and the idea of introducing himself as Jongho's new company, he was disappointed when he didn't find a gold armband between the jewelry offered.
“Did you already have the bracelet?” Yeosang asks him, recalculating what he has heard.
A black detail can’t be added overnight —it must be obsidian; much less make a gold band in such a short time. This means that Jongho has been thinking about making him part of his inner circle, about giving him an arm bracelet even before the night the castle was attacked and his shoulder ended up injured, ergo leading him to the situation at hand, where he shows himself as nothing more than Jongho's select company.
“Mh. Uh...” Jongho clears his throat again and scratches the back of his neck, and Yeosang allows himself to hold a soft smile at the sight. It's one of those small and rare moments where Jongho shows himself as he is, and not under the title that guides him. King or not, Jongho is still a twenty-three-year-old person who stumbles over his own words although one of his duties is to make himself heard. “I've been thinking about giving you one for some time now...”
The smile on Yeosang's face only widens.
“Thank you, Your Majesty, I will cherish it.”
“I promise to let you end whoever underestimates us next,” Jongho says, turning his gaze back to him.
People can't touch him either. They can, but they pay the consequences for doing so. That exact moment is evidence of that truth, since perhaps they are currently stimulating each other with the help of their respective hands, but Yeosang isn't afraid to be violent when he has to be, and Jongho much less so.
Yeosang has always thought that despite coming from similar yet different backgrounds, he can find his reflection in Jongho. Jongho comes from a royal family and has always been known for being the Crown Prince until he finally became king, while he comes from a noble and wealthy family, known for its military skills and vast abilities. Both have always been underestimated for being young and aspiring for more, for wanting more. For accepting their respective roles and still craving more.
“Those words are a blessing for my ears,” quite literally and figuratively, since Jongho promises him and blesses him to take care of a future threat. Someone will always underestimate them, and therefore, they will always have the opportunity to act.
Jongho trusts him, and Yeosang rejoices in said trust.
“You bless my ears with your beautiful sounds,” Jongho says as he leaves his forehead against his and Yeosang doesn't want to do anything more than continue delighting Jongho, so with his hand still present around Jongho's cock, he begins to move his hips.
The friction leads him to thrust into Jongho's hand and straighten up, feeling sure that he won’t fall in the water because at no time has Jongho stopped holding him by the waist. Maybe Jongho is afraid of losing him, and of letting go too, Yeosang is sure of that sometimes, but he also believes that such fear is a waste of time.
“I would die for you!” Jongho exclaims, pointing at him.
He's angry, it's more than easy to tell. His breathing is labored and a frown is prominent on his face. Jongho pins him against the wall and traps him between the hard surface and his body even though he doesn't even place a single hand on his figure, and Yeosang doesn't feel cornered.
“I would kill for you!” Yeosang points to himself, taking a step forward. “I have killed for you!” His hands might look delicate and he always tries to be careful, but innocence doesn't accompany what he does with them.
He's a knight. His father made sure to teach him the values that being a knight represents and to ask him, on more than one occasion, if following in his footsteps is what he truly wants. A knight has manners but also obligations. And yet, not once has Yeosang felt forced to do something he doesn't want to do, much less if acting has meant and means saving Jongho.
Pretending that he's Jongho's personal company is what he’s doing because they have both agreed that that is his role to play, that that is what Jongho needs. Gather useful information, get rid of every possible threat, and bathe himself in red while in the eyes of others, he remains still, being and portraying the perfect image, and moves only when Jongho allows him to.
Is Jongho capable of dying for him? Even if it means an abandoned kingdom?
His response is how Jongho again imprisons him against the wall, but to mix his labored breathing with his because Jongho does touch him this time. He places his hands on his back thighs to get him to wrap his legs around his waist, and Yeosang allows it. He lets him and he wraps his arms around Jongho's neck as well, clinging to Jongho because Jongho clings to him too.
They seal their lips together, harshly and roughly, and Yeosang no longer remembers why they even got mad at each other. He believes that using the adjective supposed or fake when he thinks of himself as Jongho's company makes less and less sense.
Jongho kisses him, and Yeosang responds as best he can. It's unstable, disastrous, and it doesn't make sense, and that's okay because the love between them is quite chaotic. Jongho dictates laws, makes decisions, and is firm and rough when he has to be, and with the same mouth, he kisses him.
Words aren't necessary when making each other feel good is what matters. Jongho stops hugging his waist with his arm to place his hand on his lower back. To help him as he keeps on rolling his hips, to support him as he ruts against Jongho's thighs and into Jongho's fist.
Yeosang knows that the hand he still has wrapped around Jongho's cock is faltering but Jongho doesn't complain. He doesn't complain since Jongho isn't completely firm with his touch either.
The friction clouds his senses and the way Jongho slides his hand on his lower back a little further to press his fingers against him is enough to remind him that many times his hand has kept going down, and down, and down. To tease him, to prepare him, to draw hoarse moans from his throat.
Yeosang feels a shiver run through his figure, aware that this is a warning from his body. The pit of his stomach burns, and breathless, he breaks their kiss. “I am reaching my limits,” he manages to articulate over Jongho's mouth.
Jongho withdraws his hand from his body but Yeosang doesn't lose his balance, and he doesn't complain about the lack of touch either, since soon enough said hand gently surrounds his neck, and Yeosang could tell he doesn't enjoy the little pressure that Jongho applies with his fingertips, that he's afraid, even. He knows the damage Jongho can do with his bare hands, but if he has agreed to be more than a simple knight for Jongho, it's because Jongho has always left him breathless, even just by looking at him.
“I hope you never profess said words when we are dressed up,” Jongho determines.
Silly king, Yeosang thinks. Jongho is still afraid that he will leave him, he knows that, because mentioning that he has reached his limits when they are wearing fine clothes would mean that he’s getting fed up with Jongho, that he’s getting tired of him, and that he will end up leaving him —or at least that's what Jongho believes.
This time Yeosang leans forward to capture Jongho's lips with his own, hoping that said action will silence the thoughts that torment Jongho. Jongho eases his grip on his neck and Yeosang increases the pace of his hand, knowing that the pleasure will cloud all insecurity. They both bear physical and emotional scars after all, no matter how fine the fabrics they dress in or how particular the jewelry they add to their figures is.
Jongho pulls on his lower lip, and one more time, Yeosang lets himself fall with a moan dancing off of his lips and traces of pleasure staining the water.
Darkness is all Yeosang finds when he opens his eyes abruptly. His chest rises and falls strongly even though he has just woken up and is lying down.
The nightmare he just had pushes him to sit down and that abrupt action leads him to grimace. His shoulder complains at the speed of the movement, and the drawing of the curtains and the little light of the moon remind him that Jongho is currently sleeping next to him.
He immediately turns his back to Jongho and sits on the edge of the bed. Perhaps now the halls of the castle have become his familiar surroundings and he doesn't remember the last time he touched the training grounds since his shoulder won't allow him to; but he continues to be a knight, and on more than one occasion, his father has warned him that being one has its consequences. He has seen and faced situations that others don't even want to imagine, and sometimes they decide to come back to haunt him at night. He brings a hand to his chest, trying to calm his breathing.
Yeosang stays still, or at least tries to stay as still and silent as possible when the mattress dips.
“Has something happened?” Jongho's sleepy voice interrupts. “Is everything okay?” The mattress shifts more and Jongho sounds closer, more awake from one second to the next.
That's the first time Yeosang wishes Jongho wouldn't pay attention to him.
“A— No— Yes, My King, everything is okay,” Yeosang manages to articulate, and yet he forms a dissatisfied line with his lips because he hasn’t sounded stable, he has barely managed to raise his voice to be understood, and his hands are trembling.
“Your labored breathing tells me otherwise.”
Having shared a few kisses, several kisses, and more than kisses, doesn't mean that Yeosang feels ready to open himself completely to Jongho; at least not when that means he can't be strong at all times. Neither physically nor mentally. While his shoulder has been injured by other people's hands, his own head torments him.
“A nightmare, that is all,” he offers.
When Jongho moves closer to sit next to him, Yeosang looks away. He's pretty and strong, isn't he? For that reason, the band that Jongho has given him is around his arm. He isn’t pretty or strong at that moment.
“I firmly believe that the attack on the castle was no coincidence.” with just those words, Jongho gets Yeosang to look at him.
Yeosang has always been skeptical about how the castle was attacked just when Jongho wasn't present. Why attack the castle but not the king? To send a message?
“I was away with Seonghwa while you were here. They underestimated me but they underestimated you as well. I want to find the traitor. Many people are not happy with my reign, and I resent and detest the way you have been a victim of my inability to satisfy everyone.”
“A king can never satisfy everyone,” Yeosang expresses automatically.
While his voice has previously been barely a whisper, at that moment the words left his mouth firmly. His nightmares and his injured shoulder aren't Jongho's fault. He chose to follow the path of his parents, and he decided to strive until he ended up under the guidance of Seonghwa and his abilities became outstanding.
“That's why at least I hope to satisfy the people I care about,” Jongho says, looking at him intently, with the beginning of a smile despite his previous seriousness, and Yeosang follows him with his gaze when Jongho chooses to settle back down, lying down on the bed they have learned to share. “Another pillow may suffice for the time being.”
Yeosang tilts his head, wondering which pillows could be more comfortable and softer than the ones that have so far piled his and Jongho's heads together, until he notices the way Jongho holds one of his arms out to his side, exposing his torso.
Make sure to always hold his bow and his arrows. Yeosang has always been cautious. But hold himself? Foolish, foolish, a huge and absolute fool he is for even thinking about not accepting the comfort that Jongho is clearly offering him.
He carefully moves to lie down next to Jongho, being careful not to strain his shoulder. But even though he agrees to rest his head on Jongho's chest, he remains tense, forming soft fists with his hands.
“People throw themselves at my feet while you won't allow yourself to fall into my arms,” Jongho's words tickle his scalp as he carefully passes his arm over his shoulders to bring him closer.
Yeosang knows that he does what he does to please Jongho, and that he doesn't exactly think of kisses, caresses, and moans when that word, when the word please, guides his head. He has always wanted to please Jongho. By coming back with another victory and one less threat to the kingdom.
Maybe it's okay for him to allow Jongho to please him as well, with words that are honest and not just provocative, and with caresses that create another kind of intimacy. Yeosang settles himself more comfortably against Jongho, allowing the padding of Jongho's chest to serve as a pillow for his head. He spreads one of his palms over Jongho's torso while the other stays trapped between their bodies, and he hooks one of his legs over Jongho's under the covers.
“And?” Jongho asks him.
His breathing has calmed down, his hands are no longer shaking.
His eyelids threaten to close again.
“Better...” much better.
Yeosang breathes heavily, and perhaps it's a little cruel the way Jongho currently continues to move his hand along his cock, though softer and calmer, accompanying him through his orgasm.
No more drops of water run down his body, and panting, and gasping, and crazy about Jongho, Yeosang makes sure to caress and touch just where he knows Jongho enjoys it, until soon enough Jongho allows himself to fall as well. With a croaky groan, with him on his lap, both under the same conditions, if only for that moment.
Yeosang hides his head between Jongho's neck and shoulder, kissing Jongho's neck.
A king also needs love. He reaches up with both hands to bury his fingers in Jongho's dark locks, and leaves open kisses along his neck, taking in the exhaustive breaths that Jongho allows to leave his lips. Jongho's hands travel down to his ass to give it a light squeeze, and Yeosang smiles against Jongho's skin before tentatively rotating his hips, until this time the hands on his ass stop him and he laughs.
“You only see me as a body.”
Yeosang will not accept being one of the crowd.
“You only see me as your king.”
“And we both see you two as a headache.”
Yeosang stops glaring at Jongho the same way Jongho stops holding his gaze just as firmly when they both turn their heads toward Hongjoong. Although Seonghwa hasn't said anything, his expression alone indicates that he thinks the same, and for the same reason, the two leave.
They are the only two who know that he’s much more than the king's favorite. Hongjoong has expressed that despite the rejection of some, others in the court are calm with the fact that Jongho has finally shown that he’s interested in someone, and Seonghwa has said that having ears and eyes both inside and outside the court is the ideal plan.
“That is not true.” Yeosang states after remembering the words Jongho said.
That he only sees Jongho as a king? Only a king? He wouldn’t hesitate to stick an arrow with his bare hands into the center of the chest of any other monarch who even suggested a closer proximity to him.
“Then stop lying as well!” Jongro growls, actually growls at him.
So obviously, Yeosang snarls at him. Baring his teeth —his fangs— and everything. He's sure that in any other kingdom, his reactions would probably cost him, at the very least, a firm slap against his cheek, but Jongho takes a step back.
He hates the idea of being a body for Jongho, one that he can decorate with fine fabrics and sparkly jewelry. The only golden accessory he really craves shines for its absence, but perhaps he deserves it, because Jongho wouldn't be implying that he only sees him as a king if he behaved better —in his defense, his parents have always spoiled him.
Jongho lets out a breath of air, clearly frustrated.
“I believe for us to be... quite sensitive when it comes to each other,” he says.
They react too much to each other.
Jongho just implied that he wants him to see him as more than a king.
Just as he doesn't swear allegiance to just any monarch, Jongho doesn't choose just anyone to pretend to be his lover.
“You have no idea how much, Sir.” Yeosang says.
Jongho looks at him, and Yeosang is sure that they both understand that he didn't just talk about their emotions.
The water has already cooled down but Yeosang doesn't care. It's dirty now, with traces of what happens when they stay close to each other, but Yeosang doesn't care either.
Jongho guides one of his hands to the back of his head, and Yeosang lets Jongho tug on his hair to bring their faces close.
“Do you still find me boring?”
Boring? How could he ever find Jongho boring?
Instead of saying that he has previously expressed that he finds Jongho boring because he chooses to use swords instead of any other type of weapon, Yeosang twists up the corners of his mouth.
“I find you... handsome,” so, so handsome, Yeosang thinks. “And silly.”
Jongho stares at him and Yeosang holds his gaze, aware that he can only get away with this because he also allows Jongho to get away with it. It's a question of balance.
“I find you beautiful,” Jongho, as always, repeats. “And witty.”
This time Yeosang smiles fully, and accepts the kiss that Jongho offers him.
Jongho stops looking at him for a moment, again finding himself looking around to soon offer him a flower, but to tuck it behind his ear this time. He taps his waist with his fingers, and with his legs somewhat weak, because he may have fought more than one battle and won more than one confrontation, but Jongho softens him, Yeosang slides off of his lap.
He follows Jongho with his eyes, watching the way drops of water slide down his broad shoulders and his wide back when Jongho stands up to leave the pool. Yeosang looks for any evidence of a previous fight on his body, but the lack of cuts or scratches assures him that Jongho hasn’t been patient and has used his sword quickly enough.
Jongho wraps a black robe around his body, and Yeosang stands up and walks out of the pool, with his hand in Jongho's as Jongho helps him. He allows Jongho to dress him up in an identical robe and get him to take a step forward after forming a firm knot with its strings.
Yeosang smiles, knowing that Jongho is way too jealous to let others see an extra inch of his skin —at least more than necessary considering he doesn't walk around the court fully covered. Jongho doesn't worry about the sword and he doesn't worry about the dagger or the clothes that remain on the floor. The guards know better than to talk about those details, and again his hand finds Jongho's as they leave the bathhouse.
The path previously marked by him is evident as red dots interrupt the marble of the floor, and Yeosang is not surprised when Jongho gently tugs on his hand to walk through a different corridor.
It does surprise him, though, the way Jongho remains particularly impassive and stares straight ahead even though now and then his eyes slide to the clasp of their hands. Jongho usually balances the seriousness of his face with the chaos of his head, Yeosang knows what he feels, how he feels, but they are side by side now.
Yeosang opts to wrap his hand around Jongho's arm. Many times they have grounded each other with the help of their hands, and this time is no exception.
“Jongho?”
Jongho slows down, and Yeosang thinks that mentioning his name was a good decision. Sometimes Jongho gets too deep into his head, even when they're side by side. Yeosang stops too, and looks at Jongho when Jongho takes advantage of the fact that their hands are still linked to bring his hand to his mouth and leave a kiss on its back.
“My dearest Yeosang,” Jongho says.
On another occasion, Yeosang probably would have smiled at the way his name fell off Jongho's lips, but now he waits patiently because he knows Jongho has more to say.
“Hongjoong has alerted me of different marriage proposals being sent my way.”
Yeosang remains serious as soon as he hears him. Jongho is a king, he knows it, he has always known that the reputation he has —both have— worked so hard to build would attract attention, but he hasn't expected that reality to be thrown in his face so suddenly, so abruptly.
No one can care for and satisfy Jongho as he does. Yeosang is sure of that.
As soon as he tries to free himself from Jongho's grip, Jongho grabs his hand with both of his.
“A broken kingdom is useless. It is worthless, destined to be nothing more than a ruined past.” Jongho states, staring at him, and Yeosang stops trying to ease himself out of his hold. “They want us because we are strong. You love me and I love you. I have rejected all the proposals, and if they continue to come, I will allow you to personally deal with anyone who insists.”
Yeosang tilts his head, holding Jongho's gaze. Jongho is telling the truth, he can see it in his eyes as well as in his tone of voice. Jongho is his. No one, regardless of their title, has the right to come and try to take Jongho away from him.
But Jongho has just assured him that that's not possible, and that if anyone tries to tear them apart, he has his permission to prevent that from happening. Yeosang allows a small smile to replace his previous seriousness, and Jongho softens his grip on his hand.
“And if one day we wear white and matching rings decorate our fingers, if that same day you want to interrupt the white with red, I will allow it.” Jongho continues, getting Yeosang to release a shaky but exciting breath of air at the mere idea of making their love official before the entire kingdom, of turning their own wedding into another success, not only because their love will last forever, but also because staining their whitish clothes with red means another fallen enemy.
Jongho looks at him as he fixes the flower behind his ear, even if Yeosang is sure that it never threatened to fall. Yeosang leans into the touch when Jongho rests his hand on his cheek, and holds a smile when Jongho leans in to kiss his birthmark.
“Let's go to sleep, it's late,” Jongho says, picking up his pace.
Yeosang follows him, and as they intertwine their fingers, he wraps his hand around Jongho's arm again as well. Perhaps a crown on a head is dangerous, but a heart in love is even more so.
“Yes, my love.”
Yeosang breathes deeply, grateful for the shade of the treetops above him. He feels lucky to have ended up under Seonghwa's guidance. He's nice, and pretty goofy when he wants to, but he sure is strict as well.
His muscles burn, if that's possible. At least he knows that Seonghwa has dealt with his own words too, since he’s currently lying next to him. Seonghwa always insists on doing all the drills with them —Yeosang likes and admires him. He is not selfish nor does he believe he is superior like the General.
Yeosang stops looking at the leaves that don’t allow him to observe the sky when he notices movement near the castle that lies somewhat far from them, although close enough to notice that several guards are escorting someone from the royal family.
“Is that Crown Prince Jongho, Seonghwa-hyung?”
Groaning, Seonghwa sits up.
“Soon to be king, yes,” true, there are rumors that the King and Queen plan to soon hand over the throne to Jongho. “He never usually comes here, he must be roaming around.”
Yeosang follows Jongho with his gaze and blinks when Jongho turns around. He certainly seems to be looking around him, until his gaze suddenly lands on him and their eyes connect.
It is wrong to hold his gaze, Yeosang knows that, some monarchs don't even like to be looked at, no matter if he comes from a noble and a well-known family, but Yeosang doesn't feel able to tear his gaze away, and neither does Jongho.
Jongho is young, just as Yeosang has heard. And handsome, as he has heard too. He isn’t completely far away, but not completely close either. A guard seems to signal something to Jongho so they can continue moving forward, and Jongho seems to shake his head, and stops looking at him before nodding and continuing with the tour. Somehow, Yeosang doesn't become alert or feel in danger when he notices Jongho's glance over his shoulder to look at him one last time.
Yeosang wonders if he feels his heart pounding against his chest because he's still recovering from training or because seeing a monarch always draws attention. But it's never that hard for him to recover from activity physically, and the one time he's had the chance to talk to Jongho's mother, he hasn't felt his heartbeat in his ears.
“He must have liked the view, don't you agree?” Seonghwa says.
Yeosang immediately turns to look at him, noticing that Seonghwa keeps both eyebrows raised. He is not referring to the trees that surround them at that moment.
“What I believe does not matter,” he chooses to respond.
“Are you willing to die for him? That's what matters.”
Yeosang stares at Seonghwa. Even if they are not ordinary soldiers because they belong to the nobility and being under Seonghwa's leadership means being part of a special group of knights, the threat of a short life is real.
“Everyone is willing to die for him. To fight. To kill, even,” they attack and defend the kingdom after all. “I am willing to live for him,” Yeosang decides at that very moment, right there and then. A person who leads him to accelerate and deepen his breathing just by looking at him from a distance is captivating. “My death is of no use to him, my beating heart is.”
Seonghwa looks at him, seeming to be analyzing him with his eyes.
“You are as unpredictable as him,” he says. “He will like your unpredictability.”
Yeosang doesn't know what those words mean precisely. He does know that Seonghwa is close to Jongho and has a direct relationship with him, so Seonghwa knows Jongho personally and what his true personality is when there are no courtiers around or prying eyes and ears.
Unpredictable?
Beautiful, cute, pretty, adorable, delicate, lovely, he has heard those adjectives over and over again. Yeosang smiles at the new adjective added to the list. As him, Seonghwa said. He can't wait to find out firsthand how unpredictable Jongho is.
Yeosang giggles, thrilled.