Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

If someone were to ask San to tell them the thing that he hates the most about being the crown prince of the northern kingdom, he doesn’t think that he’d be able to pick one thing. He hates all of the stupid “emotion” tests that he’s been forced through since he was a child, and he also struggles with the godforsaken physics tests his lecturers give him – because seriously, who needs to know about Newton’s Law when his main role would eventually be making sure that his people didn’t try killing each other over the smallest inconvenience and to prevent wars from breaking out (something that his father seemed to be talented at instigating despite neither side wanting conflict) – and he especially hates the amount of meetings he has to attend.

He knows that he’s lived a relatively sheltered life in the castle, and based on what he’s heard from noisy and nosey tourists in passing, the north is vastly different to the other regions. Whenever he’s in the city, most people are clutching handheld devices – smartphones – as they rush to get to their next location. They’re rarely seen beyond the castle walls, though. Laptops and tablets are rare to find as well, and sometimes San feels like they’re living in a weird limbo between the age before machines whilst still being surrounded by advanced technology. 

But so is the life of the crown prince. He has no say in the matter. He was born into the life of royalty, after all. At the very least, with their limited access to technology and their protective parents, both of the northern princes are pretty hidden from the Internet.

“Please stay behind us, Sa- Your Majesty.”

If it had been anyone other than his cheerful giant of a bodyguard telling him that, San would’ve scoffed – albeit slightly under his breath – as the group of guards lift their arms up in a protective manner as other kingdom soldiers awkwardly pull apart a rather vicious looking scuffle in the middle of the narrow city streets. It wasn’t as if San was incapable of defending himself. He was at the top of his class, after all. Mingi knew that, and he was the main reason why San kept his mouth mostly shut, knowing that the other guards would probably rat him out to his father for complaining. A grumble of protest leaves him, but he quietly lets his guards shuffle them all further away from the central point of conflict.

This was not how San had wanted to spend his Wednesday morning – or afternoon, after a quick glance at the time on the digital interface of his arm band.

A bloodied crystalline switchblade is kicked to the side a couple moments later, skidding across smooth concrete and bystanders jump away from the blade’s path. Mingi squats to pick it up in a gloved hand, sliding the blade back into the handle to pocket it, no doubt to bring it to their weapons specialist before he rises to his feet. It was highly likely that the blade was some type of illegal weapon. San hadn’t seen anything like it before. Mingi glances over at San, his expression carefully blank due to the presence of the three other guards, and there’s an unspoken question shimmering in his eyes, waiting for San’s verbal prompt.

“Let us continue on our way, if they have this situation under control.” San says, already turning from all of the commotion. “Father wants me back in the castle by noon to attend one of his meetings.” He almost lets a hint of disgust seep into his voice but reels it back in before it can slip out.

Mingi falls into step next to San wordlessly, with the other three guards following up with one up front and two in the back. They usher San out of the crowded and busy streets of curious onlookers and some young adults filming the fight – something that they’ll likely show their friends or post to the web. Something about proudly showing off footage of people getting beaten up, or even killed, makes San feel sick to his stomach. He pushes the feeling down and instead tugs his hood further down his face, even though he’s pretty certain that a young man who’s surrounded by a group of human watch dogs dressed in cyberpunk military garb and in tight and rigid formation only makes them stand out even more.

At least the majority of the cityfolk knew not to approach and try to strike up conversation with them. It wasn’t uncommon that people had bodyguards. The kingdom and the city were home to several powerful corporate figures and they often hired bodyguards to keep their children safe when they were out and about.

This era is much more dangerous, Sannie. His mother had told him when he’d asked years ago why he had to have so many bodyguards with him whenever he left the castle grounds. San had huffed, muttering something about how he could fend for himself and didn’t need anyone other than Mingi to protect him. Mingi, who’d been with him at the time with a stoic expression on his face, couldn’t help but to crack a small smile, nudging San playfully as the prince swatted him back as his mother watched them with barely hidden affection. Mingi was one of San’s closest friends, along with Jongho and his own personal bodyguard, Seongwha. They were practically all siblings.

It feels like it takes hours to complete the rounds in the city – something that his younger brother would typically be tasked with, but because of his recent sickness, he’s been bedridden for the past couple of days. On the way back to the castle, there’s another scuffle that breaks out, this one much more violent, and San feels his spine stiffen when he hears the sound of gunshots. Mingi is immediately on guard, one of his hands flying to the blaster strapped to his chest as the other wraps around San’s wrist.

“Let’s move.” Mingi says sharply, glancing over his shoulder at the other three. “You three. Make sure the area is safe and that no one is following, or no one else is hurt. Other guards will be arriving at the scene shortly. We don’t need to concern ourselves with this matter.” They nod and split off from the group. Mingi leads the way, his tall and broad frame making a path that San can easily follow in, though he stumbles on occasion trying to keep up with Mingi’s long strides. There are screams from behind them, and there’s a part of San that aches to go back there and make sure everything is alright. But Mingi’s grip is tight on his wrist, and he knows it’s foolish to get involved with these sorts of matters, especially if he’s acting on his own volition and emotions. His father would never let him hear the end of it.

San doesn’t know how long it takes them to weave through the crowded streets to reach the bikes, and Mingi throws a leg over, jerking his head in San’s direction. San doesn’t bother arguing that he can drive, and sits behind his bodyguard, wrapping his arms around Mingi’s waist as the engine purrs to life. Mingi doesn’t bother with his own helmet as he shoves one in San’s direction – a little risky – and they’re off as soon as the clip is secured at San’s throat, zooming down the street, dodging and passing other cars. San keeps his forehead pressed to the tensed jut of Mingi’s spine as the wind whistles in his ears and tugs at his hood.

As soon as the castle gates are in view, Mingi starts to slow the bike down until it slides to a smooth stop a few paces away from the soldiers on guard. Mingi throws a fervent look over their shoulders, as if to make sure that no one’s following them despite the fact that being within the castle walls is probably one of the safest places to be. Still, San lets him do his thing. A few minutes later, Mingi puts a foot down to give the soldiers a two-fingered salute, and they bow in return when they realize San’s behind him. Mingi wordlessly lifts his foot back onto the bike and urges it forward through the gates. As they approach the castle itself, the valet comes up to take the bike from them, bidding them both a good rest of their day as Mingi and San make their way to the garden to sit down on a bench for a little while.

“How much time do I have before the meeting?” San asks, leaning against Mingi’s shoulder, eyes fluttering shut briefly. Mingi shifts, lifting an arm to tap at his arm band, the digital interface flashing briefly.

“A little over an hour.” Mingi says. “You have plenty of time to bathe and change.”

“Thank the stars.” San sighs, slumping in his seat.

“You shouldn’t slouch like that.” Mingi chastises him, flicking San on the forehead. San swats at  him and Mingi cracks a smile. “Come on, we should get you back to your room and I should drop this off.” Mingi pats his pockets and San remembers the crystalline blade he’d slipped in there earlier.

“Let’s go.” The two of them stand up, dusting off their clothes and start heading towards the castle. They’re greeted by the servants who offer them small smiles before Mingi bids San a brief farewell before he’s hurrying off to find the weapons specialist. San heads up to his own room, nodding to the two guards stationed outside.

As soon as the door is shut behind him, San lets out a soft sight, slumping against the hardwood. One hand reaches up to undo the clasp of his cloak, hooking one finger between the fabric and his throat and tugs. The cloak loosens and San lets it fall to the ground before he wanders over to his window to stare out at the sparkling city. It’s a beautiful city, San has to admit. It’s come a long way from what San had heard in his history classes and from his parents. He isn’t certain how long he stands there at the window when he hears a knock on the door. His eyes fly to the clock on the wall, alarmed, before he lets out a soft sigh when he realizes he still has time to get ready.

“You may enter.” San turns around fully, prepared to be faced with one of his father’s advisors, but a wide smile blooms across his face, unbidden, when he realizes it’s one of his favorite people in the castle. “Jisung! How are you doing today?” The young man jumps, as if he hadn’t expected such an enthusiastic response from the usually stoic and quiet prince.

“I- me? I’m doing pretty good.” Jisung offers him a shy smile in return, gently closing the door behind him. His tailor is wearing an artfully styled oversized light purple silk button down tucked into a pair of black dress slacks with delicate gold and silver body chains, paired with a belt that emphasizes a small waist, two leather straps around his left thigh and a simple black choker around his neck. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” He crouches carefully to pick up the cloak that San had just left discarded on the floor and San simply waves his hand at the honorifics.

“There is no need to address me that way when it’s just the two of us.” San shakes his head. “We are good friends, I thought?”

“We are!” Jisung blurts, obviously a little flustered. “Sorry.” The royal tailor fidgets, and that’s when San notices the series of different fabrics draped over his arms.

“No need for that,” San hums, making his way over to sit on a chair, gesturing the tailor over. “What is this?”

“Oh! It’s a couple of things, actually.” Jisung hurries over, laying the cloak over the back of the chair he sits on. “I have a few selections of fabric and material here I recently bought to make a new piece for you. I still have your measurements from before, but it might be worth taking them again since you’ve been doing a lot more physical activity as of late and I’d like to ensure that your outfit for the upcoming ball will fit correctly. Jeongin should be visiting Jongho soon to get his measurements and such for me. I’m aware that you have a meeting with your father and his advisors soon, so I thought that I’d leave this here and have you get back to me in a couple of days with what material you like best.”

“I will do that, thank you, Jisung.” San glances at the clock once more. “I need to get prepared for that meeting, I suppose. Would you be willing to select something for me to wear?” Jisung nods, setting the fabric on the table.

“Will do. I’ll leave them on the edge of your bed, then.” Jisung gives him a heart-shaped smile before he hurries over to San’s dresser. San stands up and heads directly into the bathroom, closing the door behind him as he starts the water, a couple of Jisung’s words echoing in his head. Upcoming ball.

Of course. A season of “new birth” and likely a way to try to introduce potential suitors to San and Jongho. It wouldn’t be the first time his father – or mother – had done it. San frowns, still not entirely understanding how his father wanted his sons to find their future partners if he had been training them since birth to not only conceal their emotions to avoid getting exploited, or how to suppress any unfiltered desires.

When he’d asked his mother, she’d simply sighed and stated that the king was a man of many questions and had left it at that. San doubted that this ball would be any different to the other spring or winter balls. All of the potential suitors he’d been introduced to previously were all too full of themselves or they were eager to try to marry rich. Not a single one of them had seemed interested in getting to know San himself, or even showed an inkling of attraction towards him. It hurt, if he was being completely honest.

San glances at himself in the mirror, his reflection staring back at him impassively. He knows that he’s physically attractive – high cheekbones and a sharp jawline, with bright, almost cat-like eyes with broad shoulders that taper down into a thin, trim waist. His hair is always been a mid-toned brown, but one of the stylists bleached a small portion of his bangs a silvery blond, and he thinks he looks pretty good with it, at the very least.

He’s got defined muscles, too, though he supposes working out is more of a way to maintain his body the way he likes it. Perhaps it was a personality issue? He sighs, pushing a hand through his hair, biceps flexing slightly as he moves away from the sink and his reflection to start stripping, setting his clothes aside before he passes by the bathtub to step into the shower, closing the one-way glass door behind him.

His shower is brief because he knows his hair is going to take a stupid amount of time to style, especially if he’s doing it by himself. San grabs a towel from the warmer and dries himself off before wrapping it around his waist, barely casting a glance at the foggy mirror as he leaves the bathroom in a cloud of steam. Jisung’s gone by this point, and there has been an outfit set out for him at the foot of his bed, just like the tailor had said there’d be.

There’s a pair of slim fitting black dress slacks and a belt to match, a long-sleeved white dress shirt, a dark gray vest with the kingdom’s emblem stitched onto the chest pocket, a black tie and a few silver chains that reach down to San’s sternum. There’s also a pair of black wristbands and gloves that only cover his thumbs and pointer fingers, and a set of dangly silver earrings. 

San dries off quickly and grabs a pair of underwear and socks before he dresses, hurrying over to his dresser to start working on his hair and apply a little bit of makeup in the next twenty minutes. It’s reaching fifteen minutes when San’s just finished with eyeliner and bronzer when there’s a knock at his door. When San grants them permission, the door opens and Mingi pops his head through the door.

“It’s about time, San.” Mingi says, sliding into the room to stride over to San in a couple of steps, deft fingers reaching out to help tame San’s hair. “You’re looking good. Did Jisung come to help?” San lets out a soft hum in response as he carefully applies a little bit of dark eyeshadow. They finish with a couple minutes to spare and San strides out of his room with Mingi close behind.

He makes it to the conference door with about ten seconds to spare, rapping sharply on the wood door. He hears his father call out, and he pushes the door open, schooling his face into a blank slate, feeling Mingi’s presence follow him as he makes his way to his seat next to his father. He ignores the stares he gets from his advisors and feels the thinly veiled disinterest and distaste in their eyes.

“Good afternoon, the two of you. I’m glad you were able to join us for today.” San’s father barely acknowledges them, but Mingi still bows out of respect before he positions himself to stand a pace and a half behind San’s chair, hands folded behind his back as he stands rigidly. “Now that everyone is here, we can begin.”

The meeting, as San had predicted, is incredibly boring. The first fifteen minutes is spent – as always – reflecting on what could possibly be reworked or fixed within the castle walls and catching up with the news and events going on in the city. San bites his tongue when the urge to bring up the problems in the city arises.

“What do you think, son?”

“I think things are going well within the castle.” San replies, on instinct. “My guard and I were out in the gardens earlier, and many of the flower plants are blooming beautifully, but they’re quite large, making it difficult to walk through.” San pauses, knowing that a sarcastic retort is about to come his way. “I know Mother likes walking around the gardens, so if the paths were cleared, it would make her much happier. That, and not to mention that the festival will be taking place soon, so all paths should be clear.” He waits, knowing that the advisors don’t dare say anything against their queen before his father nods in approval.

“I agree. Your mother does enjoy those walks, and we do want our castle grounds to look presentable. I’ll let the gardeners know to trim down the bushes.” The conversation soon switches to the political situation of the kingdom, and San can’t bring himself care enough to pay attention at all. That is, until, one of his father’s advisors mentions something about the increase in the amount of illegal weapons being sold.

“Ah, Prince San, you seem to be interested in this topic. Do you, by chance, happen to know something about this?” There’s something about the taunt in the slimy bastard’s tone that has San’s hackles lifting, but he shoves the ugly feeling down. “Would you like to share any thoughts on this matter?”

“When I was out in the city earlier today, we stumbled across an altercation in the streets. It quickly became more violent, though I do not know the outcome of it because we left the scene. However, a weapon with a crystalline blade was kicked to the side.” San speaks evenly, meeting the advisor’s gaze head on. “My guard, Mingi, picked it up with gloved hands and brought it to our weapons specialists.” San pauses, glancing over the back of his chair to look at Mingi, who still hasn’t moved from his position. “Do you know any more information about it?” Mingi seems to hesitate, only his eyes flickering to look at San and his father. When the king nods at him, Mingi speaks.

“I did not stay for very long, but Lee Minho and Kim Seungmin are still looking at it in depth. They were immediately able to identify that it was a weapon sold on the black market, since the material the blade of the weapon was made with is very difficult to obtain due to its unstable composition and dangerous to develop into weapons, and every well-known weapon maker refuses to use the material.” Mingi explains. “They are writing up a report on what they discover, and they’ve identified who the blood on the blade belongs to, along with who was wielding the weapon. I believe they will be giving that information to the head guard so they can take care of it.” Mingi finishes with a polite bow and returns to his previous position.

The table is quiet for a few moments before someone speaks up, asking how they plan on moving forward with putting stricter policies in place. San remains quiet for the rest of the meeting, and stays seated until the rest of the advisors have gone and his father has dismissed him. 

On the way back to San’s room, he spots a guard acting a little strangely. He frowns, reaching out with a hand to tug at the hem of Mingi’s shirt. Mingi stops, and follows San’s gaze. The guard looks out of place, hands smoothing down their uniform as they look around, as if worried to get caught. San can practically feel the anxiety rolling off of them in waves. That won’t do. Certainly not within his father’s castle walls.

“Hey,” San decides to call out. He watches as the guard goes rigid, head sweeping side to side almost frantically as if trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. He feels a little bad for them. The guard finally looks up to see San watching them, brow arched in a show of slight amusement with Mingi standing next to him, likely with a stone-faced expression. San’s pretty sure he sees the guard’s face pale several shades. “Do…” He pauses. “What are you doing?”

“Uh…” The guard fidgets, his eyes flickering from San to Mingi. “I… got lost? Looking for the bathroom, I mean.”

“Are you a newer guard?” San frowns.

It wasn’t unusual that the castle often took groups of people with high potential to train as the castle guards, but it was usual to see them wandering around by themselves. The guard nods after a split second, and it should feel a little suspicious, but San figures it’s just nerves and the anxiety at being called out. That, and the confused puppy dog expression on the guard lowers San’s defenses a little more than he was willing to admit.

“You should probably make your way back to the group, or at least have another trained soldier accompany you so you’re not wandering the castle grounds alone.” The guard shrugs helplessly at that. He’s tall. That much San can tell from afar. He might even be taller than Mingi. The uniform he’s wearing looks a little short on him, and the poor man looks so out of place that San nudges his bodyguard. “Mingi, can you help him try to find the rest of the group?”

“Your Highness-” Mingi begins to protest, brow furrowing.

“Ah- It’s alright, I promise.” The guard quickly dips down in a low bow, and San realizes that the guard probably hadn’t realized who he was. He wasn’t wearing any of his usual jewelry or clothing, so he likely just looked like one of the advisors who’d walked out of the conference room a few minutes prior. It was also entirely possible the guard didn’t know, because as far as San knew, there were barely any images of him or Jongho online or accessible. “I apologize for taking up your time, Your Highness. I can find my way back to the group.” Before San can say anything else, the guard has disappeared through the double doors, dress shoes clacking against the tile.

“That was a little weird.” Mingi comments, and San merely hums in agreement.

Dinner is mostly quiet, the silence only broken by the occasional sound of metal chopsticks against their plates and of someone placing their glass back down on the table. Jongho had felt well enough to join them all for that night. Mingi and Seonghwa are standing guard outside the doors to the family room quietly, their hands surely clasped behind their backs and posture rigid as their eyes sweep the hall. The dinner is delicious as always, but San feels a tension in the air and the food settles heavily in his stomach.

“How was the city this morning, darling?” San glances up as his mother speaks, a kind look on her face.

“It was fine,” San replies, picking up a mouthful of kimchi and rice. He chews and swallows before he continues. “Father already knows, but we happened to stumble across a fight in the streets, and Mingi was able to catch someone who had an illegal weapon. If we can capture him, we can likely get some more information about the black market.”

“That sounds wonderful. The more precautions we take, the safer everyone is.” His mother smiles softly, her eyes flickering to her husband. This is one of the few places his father won’t immediately reprimand any of them for showing emotions – with just the four members of the royal family sitting around a dinner table recounting the events of their day.

“Yes,” San agrees, looking down at his place.

“I think Seonghwa was telling me that some other guards came across an argument in the streets the other day.” Jongho speaks up, his voice a little hoarse, likely from all the coughing he’s done the past three days. “He doesn’t know much, but the soldiers had never seen any weapons like them before. They were unable to capture them, unfortunately.” Jongho scrapes at his nearly empty bowl of rice, gathering the last few grains before he pops them into his mouth.

“We should probably have more patrols.” San suggests. “I  think people could be getting antsy since some of the other kingdoms are sending some of their people here for the annual festival, so it’s a good excuse to up the number of patrols too.”

“I’ll let the head of guards know.” The king says gruffly. “Speaking of the festival, it will take place in a little over two weeks. Starting tomorrow, everyone is going to be busy working on preparing the castle and its grounds, and I’m expecting that you will all help in some way or another.” San and Jongho nod in unison. “Your studies will continue for another week before they will be put on hold until the duration of the festival.”

“I’m excited for you two boys to attend this year’s ball near the end of it.” Their mother clasps her hands together. “You know, the two princes from the south will be attending, and staying with us for a little longer. It’s one of the first events they’ve been to outside of their kingdom, and from what I’ve heard, I’m certain that you will all get along splendidly. They’re to arrive a couple days before the festival starts, too, so you can get a head start to get to know them.” San isn’t sure if this is his mother’s way of subtly telling her sons to court the princes, but that’s a problem for future San to figure out. 

At the very least, his parents aren’t all up in their faces about their sexualities. Although their father had expressed his disappointment at not being able to guarantee the continuation of their family heritage and their throne through their bloodline, he hadn’t pushed them.

“How long will everyone be staying for?” Jongho asks.

“Ah, King Bang Chan had requested his boys stay here for about two months so they could experience a lifestyle and an atmosphere outside of home. I told him that they are welcome to stay for however long they wish to.” The king replies, setting his empty plates aside. “I expect that the two of you will be hospitable, behave well and remember your training.”

“Yes sir,” San and Jongho reply in unison.

“The others are only staying for the duration of the festival – so for a month.” The king continues, lifting up his wine glass to swirl the alcohol inside. “The castle grounds will be very busy for that period of time, with everyone working to the best of their abilities. I’m sure that there will be many people of various classes hoping to speak to you two, and I hope that you will at least indulge them. Forming connections is quite important if you want to avoid conflicts in the future.”

San rolls his lower lip into his mouth, resisting the urge to make a comment about how his father is the one who typically causes most of the conflicts. Part of him is surprised that other kingdoms are readily agreeable to sending some of their most important people over, especially regarding their kingdom’s track record of conflicts, even though they have been at peace for the past several years.

At least he took solace in the fact that the names of the Choi brothers were ones that brought a sense of comfort and serenity to the people of the northern kingdom, at least. Although it was pretty well known they were technologically “inept”, or at least, lived a life that wasn’t dominated by technology, San and Jongho were praised to be kind and understanding – rulers with opinions of their own that deviated from the majority of the hive minded inhabitants.

The princes had put forth a few different pacts – ones that would immediately be put into action once they (San, primarily, unless something happened to him) took the throne. There were different plans to build better roads and waterways, sending support and teams to help the poorer and more desolate areas of the north to start building houses and easier access to the larger parts of the kingdom. It was a huge project, but San was tired of hearing about how the other kingdoms seemed to be flourishing, when there was such a distinct difference between the classes in the north – and he couldn’t bear to see anyone suffering because of their circumstances. He wanted everyone to have an equal chance.

It was safe to say that the brothers took after their mother, at the very least.

“We will try our best, Father.” San says quietly, placing his chopsticks down beside his empty plate.

He and Jongho knew enough about royal etiquette when it came to talking to others of high class. San has been praised a good handful times for his silver tongue, and he still isn’t certain if his tutor was insulting him when she mentioned that San not only had the ability to switch faces and expressions in the blink of an eye, but he also had a very innocent face that made it easy to trust him. A backhanded compliment, perhaps. Jongho, from what San had heard of and witnessed, was able to see right through people, reading them and their motives like a book. They made a deadly duo, at the very least.

“Maybe this will be your year,” the king says, almost contemplatively. San doesn’t know how to respond, so he doesn’t. The rest of dinner is quiet as everyone finishes off their main meal and side dishes before the dessert is brought out along with some freshly brewed tea. Jongho excuses himself from the table early, and when he stands, he trips. San quickly stands up to steady him.

“I’ll go with him for now.” San doesn’t let his parents protest. “Mingi and Seonghwa haven’t eaten tonight, and they’ve been working hard all day. I'll dismiss them from their post to let them eat and rest.” He steps around his chair and wraps an arm around his brother’s waist, the latter slinging an arm over San’s shoulders as the older man helps him through the doors. Immediately Mingi and Seonghwa are by their sides, the latter’s eyes worried.

“I’m fine, just tired.” Jongho says, swatting at Seonghwa.

“You two can be dismissed for the rest of the night.” San says, pausing to look up at Mingi, who frowns in wordless protest. “You both haven’t eaten since breakfast, and I’m sure you’re hungry.” As if on cue, there’s a gurgle and Mingi’s cheeks go pink. San snorts, reaching up to flick his bodyguard in the forehead. “Go.” His eyes soften. “We’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” Mingi sighs, shoulders slumping. “Then we shall take our leave. Rest well.” San and Jongho watch as Mingi and Seonghwa hurry down the hallway, and despite wearing dress shoes, their steps are light and they barely make any noise.

“Let’s get you back to your room.” San shifts his grip on his younger brother as they make their way up the stairs. They have to pause a few times since Jongho’s legs are wobbly and unsteady from laying down for the past several days – only getting up on occasion to hobble to the bathroom. They pass by a pair of servants, and San asks if they can bring some more medication and tea to Jongho’s room and they immediately nod, bow and head towards the kitchen.

“I don’t really know how to feel about what our parents said.” Jongho says as San helps him sit down on the edge of his bed. San drags a chair to sit across from him, bracing his elbows on his thighs.

“It’s nothing different to what he’s told us before.” San points out. “I dislike it just as much, though.” He shifts, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not opposed to speaking to other people from other kingdoms or helping set up the castle and its grounds for this festival, but…” He trails off, staring at a random spot on the wall.

“Well, I sort of meant what he was saying about… you know, the other two princes?” San blinks at his younger brother.

“What do you mean?”

“Was it just me then, who thought they were subtly trying to tell us to make a move on them? To court them? Mother did imply that we would have a head start to get to know them.”

San feels the back of his neck warm.

“No, it wasn’t just you.” San admits. “I don’t really know what they expect us to do when we’re… You know.”

The amount of tests and classes they both had to take on how to control and conceal their emotions was so ridiculous that San wouldn’t be surprised if he or Jongho were emotionally stunted. Mingi and Seonghwa didn’t seem to think so, at the very least, so that was some comfort. Then again, their father had been so focused on making sure his two sons were well educated and well informed about their kingdom – and primarily only their kingdom – that they never really had time to interact with people outside of the king, queen and their bodyguards.

As far as San knew, the royal family and their own personal bodyguards were the only ones who had to go through that stupid emotion training. He also knew that a good chunk of the soldiers also took those classes by choice, which was understandable to a certain extent. It would be increasingly difficult to feel emotional connections to their comrades when their lives could be on the line at any moment. He wondered if there was any other kingdom that did this, or if it was just theirs.

“We don’t have any experience with trying to pursue romantic interests, so how do they expect us to get anything done?” Jongho sighs, flopping back onto his bed, arms splaying out to drag a pillow to his chest. San hums in agreement, leaning back in the chair with a sigh of his own.

“To tack onto that,” San huffs, “we don’t even know what they look like. Do they know what we look like? I don’t know what’s out there on the Internet of us – we’ve never looked, or had the ability to. How are we going to talk to them if we don’t know who they are?”

“Maybe they have access to more technology than we do.” Jongho offers, voice slightly muffled. San shrugs. It’s entirely possible. 

All that the two crown princes have had their entire life were their digital armbands and the most they did was tell the time, temperature, the weather and the date. They could send messages to each other, too, but they didn’t have individual phone numbers. Despite living in a relatively technologically advanced world, the only time San saw these sorts of things was when he wandered into the city itself. Behind the castle walls, there was practically no modern technology other than the vehicles that were used as quick methods of transportation.

“I feel like other kingdoms look at us and wonder what’s going on with the princes.” San lets out an airy laugh. “I feel like a five year old knows more than us at this rate.” Jongho shrugs.

“Maybe Father will allow us these devices if we manage to make some friends and connections who want to keep in touch after the festival.” Jongho suggests.

“Wouldn’t he just want us to pen letters instead?” San asks. Maybe that’s another pact that he can try to put in place once he or Jongho become king – upgrade their technology and teach people how to use it.

Jongho seems to contemplate that for a few moments but doesn’t get to respond before there’s a knock on the door, announcing the arrival of the tea and medication. San stands up to go get the tray from the maid, nodding as she bows before leaving down the hall. San turns back around, placing the tray on the table next to Jongho’s bed, handing him the medication and pouring a glass of water from the pitcher. Once Jongho’s swallowed the pills with a contorted expression, San offers him a mug of tea. Jongho sits up to take it in two hands, sipping at it carefully. The two brothers sit in silence for a few minutes and the quiet is broken by a soft rap on the door.

“Come in,” Jongho calls. Seonghwa pokes his head in, and a small smile crosses the man’s face as he slips into the room, followed closely by Mingi.

“What are you guys doing?” San asks. “I thought I’d told you guys to go rest.” Mingi and Seonghwa exchange glances with each other.

“Yes, but I was worried. So was Mingi.” Seonghwa says, gaze shifting to the open window. The other three watch as he goes over to shut the window, staring out beyond the glass for a few minutes before he turns around.

“Worried about what?” San’s voice comes out sharper than he intended it to. “If there’s a threat of some sort that’s presented itself, then we should be informed and the other soldiers warned.” Mingi rests a hand on San’s tense shoulder, thumb rubbing circles on his back. San slumps in his seat. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Seonghwa waves him off. “I feel that something is off.” He states. “My intuition is hardly wrong, and I’ve felt like this ever since I was told about that strange weapon.” He glances over at Mingi. “It only got worse when Mingi told me what happened earlier today.” Seonghwa pushes a hand through his carefully styled hair, obviously frustrated. “I don’t know where to start looking for clues.”

“Do you feel that anything’s off?” San asks Mingi. His bodyguard rubs the back of his neck.

“I don’t know.” Mingi replies honestly. “We already received the order from our general that there would be more patrols sent out in the city to look for other illegal weapons, but until we can get some more solid evidence that something’s amiss, I wouldn’t spend too much time agonizing over it.” He catches Seonghwa’s sharp glare and quickly tacks on another sentence. “I would still keep your guard up at all times, though. I will remain with you.” San sighs, burying both hands in his hair as he stares at the ground. His head is spinning with all the information and all of the events that have happened today. 

“I’m going to bed.” San says finally, standing up to put the chair away. “Sleep well, Seonghwa. You as well, Jongho. Feel better soon.” He doesn’t wait to hear their responses as he leaves the room, Mingi following him silently.

He feels a little bad for shutting them out when he finally reaches his room, but Mingi doesn’t seem to mind, nudging San in the direction of the bathroom. He says something vague about rewinding and relaxing, and San trudges his way over, halting in the doorway when he realizes there’s already a tub full of steaming hot water and bubbles. There are a couple bottles of essential oils on the counter, as well as a change of pajamas and San feels a small smile tug at his lips. He adds a few drops of lavender before he takes off his clothes and slides into the hot water, eyes fluttering shut as all the tension leaves his body.

“Try not to drown in there!” Mingi calls from somewhere in San’s bedroom.

“I’ll do my best.” San rolls his eyes, rolling his shoulders back as he sinks deeper into the water to blow bubbles, snorting when the soapy bubbles go up his nose. 

He does nearly doze off a couple times, but Mingi doesn’t need to know that. When his fingers are pruny and he feels significantly better, San heaves himself out of the tub to grab a towel on the warmer, leaning over to take out the plug in the tub before he starts to dry himself off. The pajamas are comfy and warm against his heated skin as he brushes his teeth, ambling out back into his bedroom when he finishes, towel slung around his neck. Mingi is sitting at his desk, one leg crossed over the other reading a book, glasses perched on his nose and he smiles when he spots San.

“Feeling better?” He asks. San nods, and flops face-first onto his bed. He hears Mingi shift, standing up from his seat. A couple moments later, there’s long fingers carding through San’s messy hair. “I need to go write up a report or something, and try to get some sleep. I’ll send the night shift up.” San shifts, turning around, cheek squished against the mattress as he looks up at Mingi.

“Thanks, Mingi.” San says quietly. He doesn’t have to specify what he means. His bodyguard simply beams his sunshine smile and bids him a goodnight before slipping out of the doors. San just barely has the strength to flick off the lights and crawl beneath his covers before he passes out.

The couple of days are an absolute blur. San goes to his classes and training amidst the chaos of everyone in the castle preparing decorations and cleaning. He attends his self-defense and martial arts classes where he kicks ass but still leaves battered and bruised – mostly thanks to the student sitting at the second rank, a sweet boy named Jungwon who packs quite the punch and kick. He goes to the gym to workout for several hours to destress. He’s on autopilot at this point, going to meetings his father wants him to attend, taking walks with his mother when she finds him stressing in his room when Mingi’s napping in his own quarters and he helps out whenever and wherever he can with the decorations without overexerting himself.

San’s currently lying on his bed, limbs akimbo as he stares at the ceiling. Exhaustion is settling deep into his bones despite it only being the afternoon, but at least all of his classes are over for the time being. He knows that Jisung should be coming around later since he’d told the young man what materials had felt best between his fingers a couple days prior and the tailor had promised to swing by soon. Mingi is training with Seonghwa and the other royal bodyguards somewhere within the castle walls, leaving the crown princes to their own devices – though they should be wrapping up soon.

He rolls over, reaching out to his nightstand to grab the book he started reading several days ago. San doesn’t really remember what it’s about, so he flips to the beginning of the book to start reading. He’s startled awake by a knocking on his door, the book half opened on his face. San scrambles to sit up and toss the book aside, running a quick hand through his hair, clearing his throat.

“You can come in.” Jisung pokes his head through the door a moment later, holding up a canvas bag with a smile.

“Hey, hope I’m not disturbing you?”

“Not at all. I just fell asleep reading a book.” San shrugs, standing up. 

Jisung places the bag on the table in San’s room and digs around for a tape measure. San moves to the center of the room, glancing out of the window to see a group of servants decorating the city walls and streets outside. Jisung taps San’s shoulder, and he turns around, lifting both arms without prompting. Jisung works quietly and quickly, deft fingers pressing briefly into San’s body as he marks places on the tape measure, mumbling the measurements beneath his breath as he jots them down on a tablet. 

“Do you have any designs in mind for the two of us?” San asks as Jisung measures the width of his shoulders. Jisung lets out a low whistle of approval in response.

“You’ve definitely got more muscle mass now. It’s attractive.” Jisung hums, and San feels the back of his neck warm. “I do have a couple of ideas, but nothing has been set in stone yet. I can show you some of the digital sketches.” Jisung taps San’s shoulder and the prince lowers his arms and follows the tailor to the table. Jisung scribbles down the last few numbers, before he flicks through the tablet so quickly San can barely follow the movements. He briefly remembers the conversation he had with Jongho a couple days prior about how technologically illiterate they both were.

Jisung presents him with what looks like an art app. There are several sketches of different outfits – including formal wear, more casual wear and clothes that look in between. They’re of varying color schemes, but they all seem to work together really well. Then again, San has no sense of color or color theory. There are a couple sketches in particular that catch San’s eyes.

“Did you both want to have matching or complimentary outfits for any of the events?” Jisung asks. He gestures to a couple of them with the tablet pen. “These few can easily compliment each other, you’d just have a slightly different color scheme such as you would have a black shirt and dress pants while Jongho wears a white dress shirt and dress pants.”

“I think it would be easier to know who the two of us are if we were to wear complementary outfits.” San admits. “You also said something about any of the events? How many pieces are you making for us both?” Jisung tilts his head, cheeks puffing out as he thinks.

“Well, probably three pieces each at least, so six total.” Jisung guesses. “Jeongin is helping me put them together, too. There’s the outfit for the welcome ceremony, the formal dinner and then the ball.”

“I need two outfits for one night?” San feels his brow furrow. He doesn’t remember this from last year. Jisung shrugs helplessly.

“That’s what I was told to do.” Jisung sighs. “At the very least, the outfit for the formal dinner won’t be too flashy or uncomfortable since you’ll be eating and drinking. There won’t be much moving around, and it’s probably best that I don’t use material that’s too expensive so there isn’t a risk of stains.”

“I guess it could be a good idea to have complementary outfits for the welcome ceremony.” San says finally.

“Noted.” Jisung hums. “Are there any in particular that stand out to you, or you can see yourself wearing?” San nods, and points to a couple of them. Jisung’s eyes light up. “Ooh, those are probably some of my favorites too. I’m glad they caught your eye.” He glances up at San, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “This one is a little risque, are you looking to impress someone?” He wiggles his eyebrow and San huffs, shoving at him lightly.

“Absolutely not. I really like the color scheme and the look of it.” San rolls his eyes. “They’re all very well done.” San tells him. Jisung beams proudly, and San briefly thinks that the tailor’s smile could rival the brightness of Mingi’s.

“Thank you.” Jisung glances at the time displayed at the top of the screen on the tablet. “I have to head over to check on Jeongin and Jongho for now. I’ll start on these tonight if Jongho can choose, and I will probably call for you when I’m making adjustments for them.”

“Of course.” San dips his head. “Have a good rest of the day, Jisung.” Jisung packs his things and is out the door with a small wave.

After a few moments of silence, San contemplates what he can do for the rest of the day. He wanders over to his window to stare out at the courtyard. He could definitely go out and help the staff and servants, but he’s not certain if his already low social battery and exhaustion would handle that too well. Finally, San taps at the digital interface of his arm band to wake it up, swipes to unlock it before he lifts it for a facial recognition and fingerprint. He taps a couple more times to send a call for Mingi and goes to sit down at the edge of his bed to wait. Mingi appears a few minutes later, slipping into the room, his hair a ruffled mess.

“San?” Mingi asks. “You called for me?”

“Yes. Come to the city with me.” San says simply. Mingi blinks at him, and a soft smile crosses his lips.

“I’ll let the valet know to prepare a bike for us, then.” Mingi nods, tapping at his own arm band. San gets up from his bed to grab his woolen cloak, doing the clasp at his throat before he plucks a small handful of bills from his dresser to tuck into his pocket. “Ready?” Mingi asks. San nods, and the two of them head down to the castle gates, where a motorbike is already prepared for the two of them. The guards hand them both a helmet, and San climbs on behind Mingi before they’re off.

The city is buzzing with activity and excitement as people start to prepare for the festival to celebrate their kingdom’s anniversary. The celebrations going on behind the castle walls are open to the public, though the main castle itself is closed off with tight security. It’s not the first time San’s walked through the city when they’re preparing for the festival, but it still warms San’s heart to see groups of people working hard to decorate the streets with flashy lights and garlands of flowers. A couple of digital billboards are already advertising different events and performers. Street vendors call out to people rushing by, some dressed for work, some dressed fashionably – which San sometimes envies, and he makes a mental note to drag Jisung out to the city at some point – and others are dressed casually as they walk the streets with their friends.

San tugs at Mingi’s sleeve when he spots a tteokbokki and fish cake stand right next to each other, and Mingi nods. He makes his way over with San close behind, his hood pulled low. They get their food, pay, and move to a quieter place to eat.

“Everyone seems excited about the upcoming celebrations.” Mingi comments around a mouthful of tteok.

“It’s one of the few times everyone in the kingdom comes together.” San replies, carefully taking a bite of a hot fish cake. Mingi hums contemplatively as he chews on his food, swirling the rice cake into the spicy sauce. When the taller man gets up to go purchase them some freshly squeezed lemonade, San takes the opportunity to take in the streets.

The past several times San’s been in the city, he’s always been sent to complete errands. With a single goal in mind, San had always gone straight to the point of his destinations, completed what he had to do, and then returned. It’s been a long time since he was able to relax this much. San rolls his shoulders back to release some tension, and dips his head politely to a pair of soldiers who pass by. They give him a partial bow in return, not wanting to draw attention from the people all around them, but San lifts a hand to beckon them over. The soldiers glance at each other for a moment before they hurry over to him.

“Your Majesty?” One of them frowns. “What are you doing here all alone?”

“My bodyguard is right over there.” San nods in Mingi’s direction, the tall blond man easily discernible over the heads of other patrons in line. “I wanted to ask if you’ve noticed anything amiss.”

“Amiss, sir?”

“Yes. You were given orders to keep watch for strange weapons in the city, weren’t you?” San asks. The two soldiers exchange confused looks, their concern barely concealed and San feels something cold crawl up his neck. “Were you not informed about this?” They shake their heads.

“We were told to up the patrols in the city, but no one was told why.” The shorter soldier frowns. Something isn’t right.

“Well,” San starts slowly. “You should have been informed. You have been informed now. This is not a place to speak of such matters, but I shall speak to my father later, as well as the royal guards and your general about it. Please continue with your patrol.”

“Will do, sir.” The two guards give him a quick two-fingered salute before they’re hurrying off down the street, heads bowed together. 

San’s head is still spinning with the little bit of information he was just presented with, and all of the possible implications. There’s no way that the head of the royal army was deliberately disobeying the king’s orders. Perhaps the soldiers hadn’t completely listened during their briefing. San’s so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice Mingi’s return, and jumps when a cold glass is pressed to his forehead. San’s head snaps up, eyes slightly narrowed, only to meet Mingi’s curious eyes.

“You seem to be in deep thought.” Mingi says. “Is everything alright?” San shakes his head, pauses, then sighs, shrugging helplessly.

“I don’t know. But it’s not something we can talk about out here in the open. I’ll tell you when we get back to the castle.” San takes the offered drink and Mingi plops down next to him. “Thank you, Mingi.” They sip at their drinks in silence for a little while, before Mingi taps San on the inside of his elbow, an indication that they should get up and move. Trusting his bodyguard’s intuition, San follows his lead and Mingi quickly weaves his way through the crowd.

“Someone recognized you,” Mingi murmurs as he ducks down lower to make it harder to follow them. “I noticed a group of people looking at us and whispering. They weren’t too subtle with their pointing, and I saw a couple phones get taken out, and I don’t want to risk anything.”

“Thanks.” San mumbles as Mingi tugs them into an alleyway and quickly makes his way to the street on the other side. They arrive on a much quieter street, and San’s not certain if that’s much safer. Still, Mingi looks more at ease.

“Sorry about that.” Mingi apologizes. “You’re technically not allowed out beyond the castle walls unless there’s at least two guards, but…” He shrugs a little helplessly.

“It’s fine,” San nudges Mingi playfully as they continue walking down the quiet street.

It’s not long before San spots a trio of young men several meters away, standing near a lamppost, and there’s something oddly suspicious about them all. They’re dressed in dark clothing with their hoods pulled up – much like how San is dressed – but their heads are all bowed close together. One of the three happens to look up, as if sensing someone approaching, and notices San and Mingi, before they’re glancing back down at their friends.

It’s just a slight movement of their heads, but San can tell that their eyes are darting back and forth, as if they can’t believe what they’re seeing. He can’t see their face clearly, but it’s evident that they’re panicked – probably recognizing the emblem on Mingi’s uniform, and they start to gesture wildly with their hands, as if to get the other two to quiet down. They’re not loud but they’re not that quiet either, so it’s pretty easy for San – and he doubts that it’s going past Mingi’s radar either – to pick out the majority of their conversation as they’re approaching.

“I’m well aware that it’s been taking them a while to get the information we need. But we left early to give them more time to scout out the area.”

“Isn’t that giving them more times to fuck things up? You know how they are.”

“They’re not that incompetent.”

“Didn’t you hear what they told us last week? They nearly fucked up and blew their cover.”

The trio start bickering, and San’s well aware that his pace has slowed significantly, ears pricked as he tries to figure out what the hell these three are talking about. There’s the mention of the castle, then the royal family and something about how they can’t get in or get more information until they receive a signal. It’s at that point that San decides to clear his throat, folding his arms across his chest, and the trio jumps, whirling around. He hears one of them curse beneath his breath. San keeps his hood tugged low over his head and he feels Mingi step closer to him, definitely a precautionary maneuver.

“I couldn’t help but to… overhear your not so quiet conversation.” Mingi says, his voice several notes deeper than it usually is. San guesses it’s an intimidation tactic, something that he’s only seen Mingi execute a couple of times. The trio stumbles back, eyes wide from beneath their hoods. “I would advise that if you had anything to say about the royal family, or had anything plotted against them, talking about them in the middle of the kingdom’s city streets where soldiers often patrol is not the brightest idea out there.”

“See, I told you that we should’ve just talked about this in the hotel room.”

“Yeah, but someone, and by that, I mean you, insisted you wanted to get some, and I quote, fresh air.”

“Stop mocking each other when we’re all at risk getting arrested because you two have big mouths.”

“Shut up, you’re short.”

“You’re literally shorter than I am.”

San can’t help a snort that leaves his lips at the whispered hisses and insults, and three heads snap in his direction. Mingi’s taken a few steps back from him to mutter something into his arm band, probably documenting the encounter. San glances at them from beneath his hood, sharp eyes barely able to pinpoint any identifiable features, and he knows that he’ll probably get resistance from them if he were to ask them to remove their hoods. There’s no point in forcing them, because it’s likely that they’d be ready to bolt, and from their builds beneath their cloaks, they wouldn’t have a problem putting up a fight.

“I won’t report you for anything, but I would suggest seeking more privacy, or at least lowering your voice when you’re speaking of such things in public.” San says quietly, though the warning note doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Who are you to tell us this?” The shortest of the cloaked men challenges. He gets elbowed in the side by his two comrades at the same time. San reaches up to tug his hood back with a pointed look.

“Oh great, we just blabbered all that shit right in front of the crown prince himself. You even had the gall to talk back to him.” The tallest one huffs. “My apologies, Your Majesty.” He bows, and the third man follows. The shortest man seems to be pretty shell-shocked, and San offers him a sunny smile before he tugs his hood back over his head to conceal his features.

“Let’s go,” San nods to Mingi, who returns to his side. He can feel the eyes of the three men on them as they leave.

“Something doesn’t sit right with me.” Mingi says quietly as they reach the bike. San hums in agreement, putting the helmet on to clip it beneath his chin. “I didn’t sense anything malicious coming from them, but it shouldn’t be overlooked.” Mingi glances at San, and the concern in his eyes is palpable. “I’ll make sure that I keep you safe.”

“I know you will.” San offers him a small smile, and Mingi lets out a heavy sigh before he turns to throw a leg over the bike, San following suit. The ride back to the castle is silent, and San spends the twenty or so minutes trying to collect his thoughts.

First things first, San finds it strange and almost suspicious that the head of the kingdom army hadn’t told any of his men to look out for more illegal weapons being used in the city. He should put the safety of the kingdom first – that was his job, after all. All that San knew was that he’d definitely be having a few choice words with the older man later on. He’d have to speak to his father about this, and possibly have the soldiers look out for weapons behind the city walls too, just in case. He figures it’s also worth stopping by to check with Minho and Seungmin to see if they’ve discovered anything new about the crystalline blade.

Then, the trio of strange men. Like Mingi, he hadn’t felt anything off about them, just that they were a little… eccentric, to put it politely. From what he understood, they were a part of a bigger group – how big, he didn’t know. But what he suspected, the rest of their group had somehow gotten behind the castle walls. He had no idea if they intended to injure anyone, but he couldn’t afford to let his guard down in any case. Mingi would probably let Seonghwa and the other royal guards know so they would be on higher alert to protect the royal family.

There was too much that had happened in the past few hours, and San wasn’t in the mood to try to decode any of it. He’d at least talk to Mingi about it, and let the information stew in his bodyguard’s head. The festival was to take place in less than a week, and both San and Jongho would need to prepare themselves for the arrival of the two princes from the south. San needed all of the energy he could get for the upcoming weeks of the constant events.

They arrive back at the castle, where the valet takes the bike from them and Mingi leads a weary San back to his room. San collapses on his bed with a groan, staring up at the ceiling as Mingi sits down on the edge of the bed.

“You doing alright?” Mingi asks him quietly. “Do you need me to get you anything?”

“I’ll be fine. I just need to rest.” San replies, eyes closed. There’s a beat of silence before Mingi speaks.

“The two guards who were talking to you earlier.” Mingi starts, but San cuts him off before he can continue. San explains what the guards told him, and his own thoughts about it, and Mingi’s brow furrows. “There are a lot of weapons that circulate the kingdom.” Mingi muses, absentmindedly playing with the blaster strapped to his chest. “The royal guards all know about this, so why don’t the soldiers?”

“I mean, if it was anything like my situation, then at least some of the soldiers will know by now.” San suggests, rolling over to lay on his stomach, arms cushioned beneath his cheek. “It’s the fact that Father gave direct orders to the head of the army and they weren’t carried out.”

“This is why there shouldn’t just be one single person who’s in charge of the army.” Mingi grunts. “I’ll… need to consult with Seonghwa about today’s events.” He pauses, glancing at San, who’s already half-asleep. “I’ll come get you when dinner is ready.” San hums in response, and he’s asleep before Mingi can even leave the room.

It’s not a very pretty scene when San tells his father about the soldiers the next day when he stops by after his workout, hair still wet from his shower. He’d already gone to get fitted in Jisung’s workshop earlier in the day, and had another task at hand he needed to complete, but he figured he would let his father know what was going on before he did so. The king stands up abruptly from his desk, chair scraping against the ground loudly. His voice is dark when he asks San to repeat himself. San does, and his father’s anger is palpable, rolling off of him in waves as he sweeps out of the room, his royal bodyguard hurrying to keep up.

San blinks as he watches his father depart, bewildered. It’s the first time that he’s ever seen his father express this much anger. He watches his father’s retreating back and billowing cape before he continues down the hall, poking his head into Jongho’s room. His brother is nowhere to be found, and San guesses that he’s probably finished at Jisung’s workshop and on his way to the studio. The tailor and his apprentice have been hard at work getting the outfits completed for the two princes, and even though they hadn’t been completed yet, they all looked incredible.

San heads down to the ground floor, weaving his way around servants and other staff, aware of curious eyes on him. There’s a little bit of pride that fills his chest, because he’s not wearing what he typically wears within the castle – dress shirts and dress pants with ties and other formal wear. He’s decided to go with a cropped black top with a couple of silver body chains, and a simple harness that goes over it all, buckles placed comfortably across his torso and sternum. It allows him plenty of movement, too. He wears a pair of black cargo pants with a handful of different pockets and straps of different lengths, with a buckled strap looped around his right thigh and a pair of combat boots. Topping it all off, he’s wearing a three-quarter length sleeved black cover-up and fingerless gloves. To put it simply, San feels hot.

San runs a hand through his hair as he greets people, some doing a double take when they realize their prince isn’t wearing long sleeves or when they notice he’s wearing slightly revealing clothing. San finally makes his way to his destination – the kitchen – and pokes his head in past the door. The head chef that San has practically known since birth, Soobin is hard at work, but he glances up once he feels that someone’s watching him. When he realizes that it’s San, Soobin smiles at him and waves him over. San awkwardly shuffles over, careful not to knock into anything as he approaches. The kitchen is filled with wonderful aromas as all of the staff works hard to prepare for the festival and the welcome ceremony. Soobin is working on folding an airy and fluffy looking mixture with several large sheet trays laid out with parchment paper.

“Prince Sannie.” Soobin greets him. “You’re looking quite fashionable today.”

“Thank you.” San rubs at the back of his neck sheepishly.

“What brings you here?”

“Ah, I just wanted to check in.” San glances around at the bustling kitchen. “Mother told me that you’ve all been hard at work for the past couple days.” Soobin shrugs as he carefully moves the rose-colored mixture into a piping bag, twisting the bag shut before taking it in two hands, carefully starting to pipe it onto the parchment-lined baking sheets. San fidgets, gnawing at his lower lip. “I was also wondering if you’d be willing to teach me a few things after the preparation is over.” Soobin pauses with his piping, already done with a full tray and San blinks, surprised at his speed.

“Teach you what sorts of things?” Soobin asks, his attention already refocused on the task at hand. San feels guilty about interrupting Soobin’s task, but the patisserie chef doesn’t seem to mind. “I can teach you cooking basics, baking basics, pretty much anything that you name.”

“Uh…” San pauses. His father had made an offhand comment the night prior at dinner, about how he’d promised King Bang Chan that San and Jongho would personally prepare and cook a meal for his sons. Neither of the Choi brothers had experience in the kitchen, and although Jongho had reminded their father, he’d merely fixed them with a level look and told them that they’d better learn fast.

“Does it have to do with your father?” Soobin asks, nearly having finished piping through the entire first massive bag while San was distracted. San hums, and Soobin claps the prince on the shoulder. “Deal. Let me finish up everything here, and I’ll send someone to bring you and your brother to me in about a week’s time. Does that work?”

“Yes,” San breathes. “Thank you so much.” San bows briefly before he ducks out of the kitchen, ready to head to the studio. 

He ends up being one of the last people to arrive, and he’s surprised to see Jongho already there, dressed in comfortable black cargo pants and an oversized black button down. Jongho spots him, waving him over and San joins him. There’s another young man with him, and when he looks over his shoulder, San doesn't expect to see a familiar cute and almost rounded baby face with cat eyes staring back at him. Jungwon offers San a polite smile, dimples showing as he offers a half-awkward bow given he’s splayed on the ground. San smiles back.

“Hi,” San breaks the ice.

“Hello, Prince San.” Jungwon offers a hand, and San takes it. “Jongho invited me to stretch with him, since he recognized me from past dance sessions.”

“It’s nice to actually speak with you instead of throwing each other around.” San sinks onto the ground next to them, and a soft chuckle runs through them as the three of them start stretching together. “It feels like it’s been a while since any of us have been able to make it to a class.”

“You’re both very good, from what I remember.” Jungwon offers. San lets out a sheepish laugh.

“Thanks.” The music playing in the background is a mixture of pop and electronic, and the three of them fall into a wordless routine with each other.

“What took you so long?” Jongho asks as they get to their feet to continue.

“I talked to Soobin about what Father said last night.” San replies, staring at the ground as he stretches out his hamstrings.

“Oh.” Jongho blinks a couple of times before he shifts to reach out to his other foot. “What did he say?”

“He said he’s on board and would send someone up to our rooms in a few days to start.” San twists his torso back and forth a couple of times, and Jongho and Jungwon follow his lead. They don’t get to talk much more, because the dance instructor claps her hands to gather everyone’s attention, turning the music down.

“Alright everyone, thank you for coming today.” She glances over at the princes, and a warm smile breaks out over her face. “It’s good to see you two boys here.” It’s refreshing, almost, to hear that; no honorifics or titles reminding them of their position here. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yes,” San replies. “Thank you for having us again.” The instructor, Karina, if San remembers her name properly, laughs and waves him off.

“It’s lovely to have all of you here.” She turns to where her laptop is connected to the speakers. “Now, we’ve been learning Drunk-Dazed and Cyberpunk for the past few sessions, and I hope that you’ve all been practicing.” She types on her keyboard, before speaking up again. “It works out, because about half of you are either new or haven’t been here for a while, so I’ll be bringing you to another room to practice a new song to perform for the festival.” There’s a few murmurs in response. “Ni-Ki, I’m leaving you in charge of the sound system in this room.” Karina moves away from the laptop to gesture to San, Jongho, Jungwon and several others.

They follow her into the room next door, and they hear the music start from the other room, followed by the sound of synchronized footsteps and squeaking on the ground. Karina gets everything set up on the second sound system, before she turns to them, eyes scanning over the group, and has them introduce themselves: San, Jongho, Jungwon, Hyunjin, Taehyun, Hoshi, Taemin and Sunoo.

“Good. There’s eight of you, so these two songs should work perfectly.” Karina reaches over to tap a couple of buttons on the wall and the mirrors before them shift to turn into a projector. “Back Door and Halazia are the two songs I’ve chosen for your group to perform in about three weeks at the festival. They aren’t the easiest choreographies to learn, but all of you are talented and pick things up quickly.” Karina taps another few buttons and the room dims before the instructor pulls up a couple of performance videos.

San watches the videos with rapt attention, already picking up a couple of different dance moves, his body moving slightly without realizing. Jongho is moving along to the beat next to him, and San caught Jungwon moving his hands and arms with the moves from his peripheral. After a couple of plays, Karina turns the lights back on and gets everyone to stand up.

She begins by starting to teach everyone the group parts, and tells them that based on their performance, she’d pick the specific parts for them as she sees fit. That, and she also has them run through a few vocals beforehand. San misses the way that the adrenaline runs through his blood when he dances, how free he feels without having to think about his duties as the prince or worry about trying to keep up appearances. Karina runs them through the group parts several times until she’s satisfied enough to assign them specific parts.

After that, everyone uses the tablets that Karina hands out to learn their own parts, and she comes around to give out pointers on occasion. San doesn’t know how long they remain in the studio, and it’s only when most of the dancers are sprawled on the ground on their backs, chests heaving up and down with several empty bottles of water in the trash can that Karina tells them to start cooling down. San, Jongho and Jungwon are the only ones who are still up and practicing, and they run through the parts that they know one last time before they slowly start to cool down, gulping down their own bottles of water. The three of them thank Karina for the class and promise to be back the next day, and make their way out of the studio building.

“Where do you live, Jungwon?” San asks, the trio letting out a soft sigh as the cool evening air hits their heated skin. He realizes that as long as he’s known Jungwon, or has been familiar with him, that he barely knows anything about the younger man.

“My father is one of your father’s royal guards. So I live within the castle quarters.” Jungwon explains. “Which is partially why I’m in all of your martial arts classes.” He shrugs, tilting his head up to look at the sky. “I don’t mind it, really. I enjoy it. I enjoy dancing as well.”

“Would you ever consider becoming a royal guard like your father?” Jongho asks.

“Possibly.” Jungwon blinks. “I feel like I’m too young and underqualified, though.”

“Wait, how old are you, then?” San asks, curiously.

“Eighteen.” Jungwon replies. San barely suppresses his surprise. Jungwon is five years younger than he was, and though San supposes Jungwon doesn’t look like he’s in his twenties, the way he spoke had him thinking otherwise.

“I think you’re qualified, if you’d ever be interested. It doesn’t take too long – it’s about a month of training, maybe less for you.” San blurts. Jungwon looks up at him, startled. “You’re incredibly talented, and you’ve always been in the same classes as I’ve been for martial arts and self defense classes, and those aren’t for the beginners or intermediate levels.” Jungwon shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck as his ears turn red.

“I’ll consider it.” Jungwon murmurs. “I’ll speak to my father about it when I get back.” San ruffles Jungwon’s hair as they enter the castle.

“It was nice getting to know you, finally.” San offers. “Hopefully we can continue talking.” Jongho nods in agreement and Jungwon looks startled that both of the crown princes want to spend time with him.

“Y-yeah. That could be good.” Jungwon pauses, before he bows to them briefly. “I suppose this is where we part ways. Sleep well, Your Majesties.” Jungwon hurries off down the hall before San and Jongho can protest against the honorific.

It’s the day that the crown princes of the southern kingdom are to arrive, and San’s not ready for it. He’s thrown himself into dance practice and taekwondo for the past (almost) two weeks, going to the studio with Jungwon and Jongho to practice their choreography or to spar in an attempt to take his mind off of things and destress as much as possible. San finds out that Jungwon’s an incredibly sweet and well spoken individual, who isn’t afraid to stand up or disagree politely with what San or Jongho have to say. It’s refreshing, really, to be able to speak to someone around his age who doesn’t try to please his every whim and will.

San’s just finished his shower after an early morning five hour dance practice – even though he knows that he has one later in the evening – and he takes a look around his room for a few moments before he decides to go for a walk outside in the gardens. He grabs his cloak, throwing it around his shoulders to clasp it at his throat. He checks his room to make sure it’s not in disarray before he leaves to head for Mingi’s quarters, nearly running into someone as he nears the end of the hallway.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry!”

San stumbles, nearly tripping on his cloak but he manages to steady himself and the other person as they nearly fall backwards. He realizes that the other person is a good chunk taller than he is as he steadies them and they take a step back from each other. The guard looks familiar to him, but he’s bowing deeply, bent at the waist at a near ninety degree angle in front of San before the prince can get a good look at his face.

“Please forgive me for my clumsiness.”

San’s well aware that he’s staring and staying silent and the guard seems to squirm under his scrutiny even if he can’t see San’s eyes. San knows he’s familiar, but he can’t put his finger on it.

“It’s quite alright.” San says finally. “Just be careful next time. You can stand up, you know.” San lets a sliver of amusement slip into his voice. The guard straightens up, adjusting his cap, and San stares again. The guard tilts his head, puppy dog expression overcoming his features, confusion blooming on his face.

“Can I help you, Your Majes-”

“It’s you.” San blurts. “The one who got lost on his way to the bathroom. I don’t even think you ended up finding it, did you?” The guard flushes, stepping back to rub at the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Ah… yes, that would be me.” The guard shuffles. “And no, I did not find it, sir.”

“Did you find your way back to the group, at least?” A jerky nod. “What’s your name?”

“Ah- uh. Um.” The guard looks uneasy and San feels his brow furrow. It’s a little strange, at the very least, that the soldier isn’t willing to share his name when it’s typical that the majority of the kingdom soldiers would give it out to San without hesitation. Before San can prod further, he hears an out-of-breath shout of his name. San turns and spots Mingi running down the hallway, and there’s a stormy expression on his face, one that has San’s attention switching instantly and concern rising exponentially.

“What’s wrong?” San meets Mingi halfway down the hall, hands gripping onto Mingi’s biceps as he stares up at him. 

Mingi doesn’t respond, doesn’t even stop moving, and instead immediately grabs onto San, sweeping him up into his arms, one arm beneath his back and the other beneath his knees, lifting him up effortlessly. A startled yelp escapes San’s lips before he can stop it, and Mingi strides down the hall back to San’s room, barking out an order to the startled guard to find other soldiers and station themselves immediately in front of San and Jongho’s doors. What startles and concerns San even more is the acrid and metallic scent of blood clinging to Mingi. Mingi’s eyes are hard and his jaw is set in a tense line.

“Mingi, what’s going on?” San demands as Mingi shoves his shoulder into the door of San’s bedroom – being mindful of San’s body – and sets him down on the bed.

“Close all of the windows and draw the shades.” Mingi orders. San, startled at witnessing such an aggressive side of Mingi, stumbles to get to his feet and does as he’s told, watching as Mingi locks the door and places a metal beam – one that was only used for emergencies – atop of the knobs and proceeds to drag both the dresser and couch before it. There’s blood on Mingi’s hands and dark stains on his uniform, and San feels sick to his stomach, heart hammering in his chest. It isn’t until Mingi does a full sweep of the bathroom and bedroom does he seem to calm down, running a hand through his hair, jaw still set and expression devoid of any emotion.

“Mingi?” San asks quietly, approaching his best friend carefully. He places his hands at Mingi’s elbows, glancing up at him with concern written all over his face. It takes a few moments before Mingi’s eyes flick down to meet San’s, and he seems to finally relax, letting out a long exhale.

“Two of your father’s closest advisors were shot dead less than ten minutes ago.” Mingi says flatly. San feels his throat tighten, his heart stuttering in his chest.

“What?” San croaks. “How? Where?” Mingi shoves both of his hands through his hair, gripping the strands tightly as he curses at himself beneath his breath and San is helpless to do anything but stare.

“Quite literally beneath our noses.” Mingi practically snarls. “Seonghwa, the other royal guards and I had all just finished sparring and we were all talking about different defensive methods for various types of weapons. We were just off to the side of the courtyard to get out of the sun. Advisor Chul and Advisor Lee were in the courtyard talking about politics. The next thing we know, they’re both dead on the ground with blood pooling around them.

We ran out immediately to see if we could spot anyone with everything that we had on our person, but we didn’t see anything. It had to be a long-range weapon. If it was one, whoever shot them could have taken us out too when we ran out into the open. But they didn’t, and something tells me that this is a statement and a targeted attack. Seonghwa has been on edge the past few weeks, ever since he heard about the weapons. Other soldiers heard the commotion and yelling and we immediately sent several of them to go report, others to keep watch for suspicious activity and others to bring the bodies inside. Seonghwa and the others went to Jongho and the king and queen. I immediately came here. The castle is going into a full lockdown until we deem it to be safe. As far as I know, Minho and Seungmin will see if they can extract anything from the bodies that will give us any hint as to who this person is.” Mingi is talking a mile a minute.

San swallows thickly, his hands shaking with nerves as he wraps his fingers around Mingi’s wrists, tugging them from the taller man’s hair, and leading him over to sit down on the edge of his bed.

“This…” San starts to talk, mostly to himself. “The festival is to start soon. The crown princes of the south are supposed to arrive today. What is going on?”

“It’s fucked, isn’t it?” Mingi laughs, but it holds no humor to it. “It’s really, really fucked. No one’s fucking safe anymore.”