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Chapter Text

Hyunjin stood before the ornate mirror, his expression thunderous as the tailors made their final touches to his ceremonial garments. The deep hues of crimson and obsidian, emblematic of Levanter, glimmered under the workshop’s fiery light. The room carried the scent of burning embers and the tang of molten rock—the familiar aroma of the volcanic fortress that dominated their kingdom like an unwavering deity.

“This is bullshit,” he growled, jaw tightening as yet another layer of intricate embroidery was laid upon his shoulders. Red filigree coiled across the fabric like flickering flames, both weighty and stifling. “We should be preparing for war, not a wedding.”

Nearby, his mother observed him from a seat beside the imposing hearth. Regal and composed, her presence was draped in velvet and steel—the very personification of Levanter’s ruthless elegance. Unlike Hyunjin, she displayed no overt irritation, only the quiet, measured wisdom of one who had long mastered this game.

“You speak as though this marriage is not another form of battle,” she said smoothly. “One that requires more than a sword and brute strength.”

Hyunjin spun around, his dark eyes flashing with defiance. “Save me the lecture. I’m not a fool.”

“Then stop behaving like one,” she countered, rising and approaching him with measured steps. “Your king has chosen you—his most trusted commander—to cement this truce. You, Hyunjin. Do you comprehend the implications?”

He did. It meant the king saw him as more than a mere soldier; it meant he was deemed valuable enough to serve as a pawn in politics. The knowledge offered him no solace.

“He is an elf,” Hyunjin spat the word like venom. “Their people are beneath us—feeble. They hide in their precious groves and sing to the wind while we burn, fight, and endure.”

His mother merely exhaled through her nose, unimpressed. “Felora has withstood the test of time as long as Levanter has, and for a reason. Don’t mistake their repose for weakness.”

“They are the ones who err,” Hyunjin snapped, imagining scenes of their serene forests, their unfathomable patience, and that so-called ‘Prince of Beauty’ or rather ‘Realm’s Ray of Sunlight’—a delicate figure draped in silks and surrounded by blooms, destined to be his partner—a being untouched by hardship, unacquainted with the pressure of pursuit or the stain of blood.

Felix.

The name had been whispered with reverence across kingdoms, always accompanied by praise for his ethereal beauty, his warm laughter, and the radiant glow of his hair in sunlight—a rarity in Levanter. Hyunjin pictured a fragile, wide-eyed creature, utterly misplaced in this fortress of fire like a lone bird caught in a raging storm.

Hyunjin’s scowl deepened. “How do you expect me to play along when the whole idea is an insult? Forcing me into bed with the enemy!”

Tilting her head, his mother appraised him. “You won’t need to feign, my son,” she said softly. “You only have to endure.” A sly smile tugged at her painted lips. “If his reputation is true and he indeed possesses a beauty that rivals the sun, you might even end up grateful to your king for ‘forcing you into bed with the enemy.’”

Hyunjin made a sound of disgust, wrinkling his nose. He refused to succumb to the allure of mere prettiness—if anything, that made them more perilous. Countless sailors had lost themselves to the siren’s song; innumerable warriors had fallen to enemies hiding blades behind charming smiles.

He turned back to the mirror, his reflection a stark reminder: a commander, a son of Levanter, and soon, a husband to a man he despised the very idea of.

Hyunjin exhaled sharply. Endurance was all he knew. Bearing the weight of duty and the chains of expectation had been his lifelong burden.

As the tailors secured the final clasp of his cape, he rolled his shoulders, feeling its heavy fabric settle around him—an armor as burdensome as the destiny forced upon him.

“Fine,” he said bitterly. “Bring on the elf.”

Chapter Text

The carriages glided through the volcanic pass, their opalescent surfaces capturing and refracting the scant light that filtered through Levanter’s perpetually smoldering sky. Pulled by unicorns of the purest, dazzling white, the procession from Felora starkly contrasted with the jagged, ominous obsidian cliffs towering menacingly on either side. The air was dense and oppressive, saturated with heat and the acrid scent of sulfur—a world away from the tranquil, verdant forests Felix had always known and cherished.

Inside the lead carriage, Prince Felix sat rigidly on a plush, velvet-cushioned seat, his delicate hands intricately twisted in his lap, like the knots of an old tree. He had spent most of the journey attempting to fortify his resolve, but with every mile closer to the fortress of Levanter, it became increasingly difficult to ignore the persistent tremor in his fingers.

“They're going to eat me alive,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, fragile as the wings of a butterfly.

Opposite him sat his advisor—and dearest friend—Jisung, who sighed with a gentle, knowing exasperation. “No one’s eating you, Felix. I promise. If anything, they’ll be too busy staring.”

Embarrassment colored Felix’s cheeks as he turned his freckled face toward the carriage window. His reflection wavered against the glass, his golden hair soft and luminous even in the dim, muted light. He had always been told he was beautiful—perhaps too beautiful for a prince. In Oddinary, beauty was a cherished blessing, where grace and kindness were revered virtues. But here, in this kingdom of fire and stone, he feared it would render him vulnerable, like a moth drawn to an open flame.

“They say Levanter’s people are brazen,” Felix said, his voice taut like a drawn bowstring. “Brutal. Rude. Salacious—” He swallowed hard, the words heavy on his tongue. “Jisung, tell me the truth. Are the rumors about their... parties true?”

Jisung arched a brow with a subtle, amused curiosity. “Which rumors?”

Felix’s hands twisted tighter in his lap, his knuckles white with tension. “The ones about how their gatherings become lewd? That the nobles behave like—like heathens, drinking until they’re delirious, indulging in unspeakable acts in plain sight?” His voice wavered, a thread of hope clinging desperately. “That their weddings have... bedding ceremonies with onlookers?”

Jisung groaned, dragging a weary hand down his face. “Felix, you have to stop listening to court gossip.”

“So it’s not true?” Felix asked, his eyes wide with desperate hope, like a drowning man reaching for a lifeline.

Jisung hesitated, his glance flickering with reluctant honesty. “Mostly not true.”

“Mostly?” Felix repeated, his voice a whisper of despair.

Jisung exhaled, rubbing his temples in contemplation. “Look, Levanter is—unrestrained. They’re not delicate about things the way we are. They drink too much, they fight for fun, and, yes, their nobles can be a bit forward—”

Felix let out a soft, horrified whimper, like a frightened animal caught in the harsh glare of reality.

“—but,” Jisung continued hastily, “whatever you’ve heard about public bedding ceremonies is probably just an exaggeration. I think.”

Felix stared at him, stricken. “You think?”

Jisung winced. “I mean, if it’s a tradition, you’ll just… have to go along with it.”

Felix groaned and buried his face in his hands. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can,” Jisung said firmly. He leaned forward, resting a hand over Felix’s trembling ones. “I know you’re scared. And I won’t lie to you—this is going to be difficult. You’ll be married, Felix. That means spousal duties, whether you want them or not.”

Felix made a strangled sound and squeezed his eyes shut.

“But,” Jisung continued, voice softer now, “you’re stronger than you think. And for what it’s worth? I don’t think Commander Hyunjin is quite the beast you’re imagining.”

Felix’s stomach churned. He had heard the name spoken in equal parts reverence and fear—a warrior forged in fire, the right hand of Levanter’s king, ruthless on the battlefield and insatiable in his appetites.

And soon, he would be his.

The carriage lurched as they began their final ascent toward the fortress, the air growing hotter, heavier. The jagged towers of Levanter’s castle loomed ahead, their dark spires reaching toward a sky thick with smoke. Felix clenched his hands into fists, willing his breath to steady.

Soon, he would step into that fortress. Soon, he would meet the man who would be his husband.

And he had never been more afraid.

Chapter Text

Although it was unusual for those from either Levanter or Felora to meet for the very first time at their own wedding, the ceremony had been arranged before either kingdom could organize any pre-wedding celebrations, making this event their initial encounter.

There they stood, face to face at the altar in the throne room—the very chamber where, if the king ever chose to settle down and find a bride, he would be wed. Given his clear disinterest in marrying and starting a family, that day was unlikely to ever come. Despite the tradition of reserving the throne room for royal weddings, the king had insisted that his closest comrade be married there regardless. Seated in the front row, he watched with a mix of amusement and apprehension.

It was a privilege previously believed to be impossible to witness an elvish prince become the consort of one of his finest soldiers—two very different beings from entirely separate realms. Felix was adorned in pristine white and silver ornate silk robes that spoke of purity and significance, topped with a headpiece crafted from delicate lace flowers encrusted with sparkling diamonds. A flowing veil descended from the headpiece, concealing his face until the customary reveal.

In stark contrast, Hyunjin wore a suit fashioned from unique deep crimson leather accented with obsidian armor. A long black commander’s cape trailed behind him like a second skin, fastened with a polished brooch bearing Levanter’s sigil—a red wyvern. His attire boldly proclaimed both authority and peril. While Felix shone in ivory and diamonds, Hyunjin exuded the fiery intensity of blood and the steadfast strength of stony earth from his own kingdom.

An officiant droned on with verses dictated by Levanter law, yet all Felix could perceive was the sound of his own heartbeat. He stood stiff with tension, dreading what might come next in this strange new world—especially from the man before him, who cast a side-eye at the officiant with clear disinterest, annoyance, and impatience. Felix had never imagined his wedding day unfolding like this—not with a man like this. He had pictured greenery, blooms, and sunlight, not fire, brimstone, and leather; not someone bearing battle scars on his otherwise youthful, sun-kissed complexion, with ash brown, cropped hair and eyes that seemed capable of piercing one’s very soul. Eyes that now scrutinized his hidden face with an arched brow in expectation.

Startled, Felix quickly diverted his gaze when he realized the officiant had called for the reveal. Nodding silently in agreement, he allowed several sets of hands to lift the sheer veil from his face, exposing him fully. An audible gasp rippled through the assembled guests, followed by a flurry of whispered conversations. Whether they marveled at his beauty or were taken aback, viewing him as heinous, Felix could not tell.

To his unawareness, Hyunjin stared at him, shock etched on his handsome face, rendered mute by the elf’s breathtaking appearance—beauty that legends had often celebrated, yet now seemed even more extraordinary. The man before him was the most ethereal being he had ever seen. Large chocolate eyes with golden flecks dispersed within them, framed by long, golden lashes, regarded him hesitantly, shimmering as if on the verge of tears. His platinum hair, soft and almost weightless, fell in elegant waves to just past his shoulders, adorned with tiny diamonds that glimmered like stars against his rosy beige skin. Sun-kissed freckles dusted his cheeks and nose like constellations in the night sky, enhancing his delicate features. Full, pink lips trembled slightly as Felix awaited judgment from the imposing warrior before him.

For a fleeting moment, Hyunjin nearly believed that Felix’s lithe figure was kissed by a faint, dewy shimmer—like morning dew clinging to flowers beneath a glittering moon. He seemed to glow as if he were a living myth. Yet, Hyunjin quickly chastised himself for entertaining such thoughts; regardless of Felix’s undeniable allure, marked by his petite stature and gentle demeanor, he was, after all, an elf. Elves were notorious for their deceptive nature—appearing innocent while harboring mischief and malevolence, twisting hearts and minds for their own gain. They wielded manipulation as a weapon rather than engaging in honest combat like men. In Hyunjin’s eyes, such creatures, perched in lofty arboreal fortresses and casting judgments on others despite their lack of true martial prowess, did not deserve the power they possessed. Their wickedness was on an entirely different scale.

No doubt, the elves would mock him if they knew that Hyunjin had nearly forgotten his deep-seated disdain for them all because one exceptionally beautiful elf was about to become his lawful spouse. No matter how gentle Felix appeared, caution was still vital.

“Commander,” the officiant nudged when Hyunjin’s gaze wavered, forcing him to reluctantly tear his eyes away from Felix and resume the recitation of the traditional Levanter vows with an air of cold detachment.

“Blood of my blood and flesh of my flesh, together as we shall be bound,” he intoned in a monotonous drone. “I take thee, Lee Felix of Felora, into my arms, into my home, into my bed, into my heart. I offer my love without reservation and seek thy love without demand. By magic and fire, water and wind, earth and ice, thou shall be mine for all eternity until death do us part and beyond.”

The officiant smiled and nodded encouragingly toward Felix. Though Felix had memorized the lines expected of him, nerves made it nearly impossible to articulate them clearly. He opened his mouth, but no sound emerged. Swallowing hard, he tried again, enforcing his words past the lump in his throat, speaking barely above a whisper. “B-Blood.. B-Blood of..Uh—”

“You may use your own vows, elf,” the king declared loudly from the front row, causing Felix to flinch. The remark, intended less as a joke and more as a gesture of sympathy—acknowledging that the man, clearly as hesitant about this union as his commander was, might have forgotten the Levanter vows due to his trepidation—elicited a brief wave of laughter from the audience. The king quickly raised his hand to silence them before gesturing for Felix to proceed.

Clearing his throat softly, Felix summoned his courage and raised his eyes to meet Hyunjin's. The softness of his gaze contrasted with the commander's icy stare as he recited traditional elvish vows he’d heard numerous times in his homeland and may have even practiced in his youth, imagining his perfect wedding day in which he’d be marrying an upstanding Feloran nobleman and not a fierce warrior from a ruthless kingdom his people had been at odds with for a millennium.

“By the sun… that rises each morning… and the moon that greets us each night…” Hyunjin’s eyes widened in surprise at the revelation of a smooth, barritone voice emanating from such a seemingly delicate being. “I offer you my spirit for today and every day henceforth. I promise to strive to grow ever closer to you until the stars themselves descend. I will walk by your side through all tomorrows and beyond, faithfully and forevermore, from this day until eternity.”

Hyunjin was not the only one taken aback; many in attendance shared his astonishment at the deep tone of the elf’s voice. It was incongruous with his appearance.

The officiant produced a bowl filled with blood. In accordance with Levanter tradition, the blending of a few drops from each partner's blood in that bowl symbolized the sealing of their marital union—an eternal connection that wove their souls together indefinitely.

Felix found the idea unsettling and invasive—that their blood should merge outside their bodies—but nonetheless accepted the sharply pointed ceremonial dagger with hesitance. He methodically turned the blade in his delicate fingers before raising his hand, poised above the bowl. Yet, he appeared paralyzed, unable to proceed.

Impatiently, Hyunjin snatched the knife. With a swift flick of his wrist, he ran the blade along his palm, piercing his skin. A droplet of deep red blood emerged like molten lava, trickling into the ceramic basin below. Without meeting Felix’s eyes, he returned the dagger and said quietly, his voice laced with cynicism, "Do you need assistance, princess?"

Defiantly, Felix’s grip tightened around the weapon as he reclaimed it from Hyunjin. He cut open his own palm, adding his blood to the ritual mix, then returned the dagger to the officiant while clasping Hyunjin's bleeding hand with his to complete the bond.

With their hands firmly joined, palms pressed together so that their blood mingled, the officiant intoned a series of words in an ancient tongue, marking the ceremony's final moment. They were free to let go, yet both lingered, glaring at one another in a silent standoff, each unwilling to give in first.

The king rose first, clapping enthusiastically, and soon the crowd joined in. After several seconds of tension, Felix surrendered, lowering their joined hands. Still, they stood facing each other, awaiting the officiant’s declaration that the marriage ritual was finished.

When the announcement sounded, they turned together, wearing practiced expressions of neutrality—a mask of calm indifference—ignoring the jubilant congratulations echoing throughout the hall, their heads held high as the crowd applauded. Whether for better or for worse, their union was now complete.

They then proceeded down the aisle side by side, shoulders touching, moving in perfect step despite having met mere moments before.

Once their attendants had quietly cleaned and bandaged their wounds, the couple made their way to the great dining hall, where a celebratory feast awaited. Long tables lined the room, laden with plates of savory treats—galbi, bibimbap, japchae, yukhoe, and more—accompanied by a selection of wines and liquors imported from the best vineyards in neighboring allied kingdoms. Several musicians played traditional tunes near a roaring fireplace in the corner while court jesters and other entertainers performed lively dances for the guests' amusement.

As the wine flowed and the festivities commenced, Felix and Hyunjin took their seats together at the head table overlooking everyone else. Hyunjin seemed to bask in the greetings, congratulations, and praise coming his way while Felix sat silently beside him. Although his face remained stoic, his trembling hands in his lap betrayed his inner anxiety.

Forcing a polite smile as they shared pleasantries with guests who wished them enduring happiness, Felix tried to hide his discomfort.

When the staff served their dishes, Hyunjin grinned widely and raised his goblet enthusiastically, proclaiming, “Let us eat and celebrate our new alliance! The joining of Levanter and Felora shall be remembered through our merging of flesh—eternally enshrined in history!” Cheers and applause erupted, their joyful shouts reverberating through the hall and echoing along the corridors; even the king looked pleased, seated casually among the people, wolf-whistling and stomping his feet.

Several servers presented trays for Felix to select from. His eyes flitted nervously over the array of meats, stews, rice, noodles, and vegetables displayed in colorful platters. Truthfully, even the sight of food made his stomach churn with anxiety, but declining the offerings on such a day would reflect poorly on his character.

Eventually, his gaze settled on some noodles in broth, and he decided he might be able to manage that. Though his mouth felt dry and his appetite absent, he scooped some noodles into his dish and thanked the server softly, hoping she could understand despite his halting words and evasive eye contact.

Meanwhile, Hyunjin was busy teasing some of his comrades by playfully tossing food their way from across the room, before downing what appeared to be pure liqueur with a raucous laugh. Felix found this behavior incredibly immature and inappropriate, particularly on his wedding day. Was this truly the conduct of a royal commander?

Determined not to draw attention—or worse, be seen not eating—Felix focused on his plate. To his shock and dismay, as soon as the soup filled his mouth, he nearly coughed it out onto his napkin, as if he had swallowed a spoonful of lava. The spices, foreign to him, burned his tongue, sent heat through his sinuses, and brought tears to his eyes.

He managed to swallow, but immediately broke into an embarrassing coughing fit that drew concerned glances from nearby guests. Heat flushed his cheeks with mortification; how humiliating it was to choke on Levanter food in front of everyone.

For the first time, Hyunjin addressed him without a script, his voice low enough for only Felix to hear. “Not good enough for you? Sorry, elf, but unicorn and fairy meat isn’t on the menu tonight.” Felix wasn’t sure if Hyunjin was teasing or outright mocking him.

Furrowing his brows and striving to appear unaffected, Felix stubbornly added more to his bowl despite the intense flavor that nearly overwhelmed him. “If you took a break from your bloodshed and picked up a book, you’d know that in Felora, it’s forbidden to slaughter and consume unicorns. They are our companions, not game. And as for fairies, I don’t know of any culture that would ever dare such a wicked act,” he stated plainly without bothering to look up.

Hyunjin’s eyebrows shot upward in disbelief, his expression comically offended; he hadn’t expected such forthright words from a man who otherwise appeared meek. It only reinforced his belief that elves truly hid claws beneath their silky exteriors. Leaning in as though to share an affectionate whisper with his husband in public, Hyunjin murmured, “You’d be wise to watch yourself, pretty boy, or else the dragons will be picking their teeth with your bones.”

Before Felix could respond, Jisung swooped in like a guardian angel, arriving just in time to save the day. “Excuse me for the interruption, Commander, but I wanted to personally congratulate you—and on behalf of all of Felora!” he announced, bowing deeply to Hyunjin before straightening up with an exuberant grin, pushing his thick-brimmed glasses further up his nose. His deep brown hair softly framed his full cheeks, and he was dressed in an emerald waistcoat adorned with silver floral embroidery, matched with white breeches and boots.

“I wasn’t eavesdropping, but I couldn’t help overhearing… did someone mention… dragons? I was under the impression that they had been extinct for decades,” Jisung inquired with genuine curiosity, his round eyes shining with wonder as he stared at Hyunjin.

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow in skepticism before chuckling lightly and leaning back in his chair with a relaxed air. Just then, Jisung became aware of another presence looming uncomfortably close behind him—the sensation of warm breath tickling the side of his neck.

“You were taught by your elders what they wanted you to believe,” came a sultry voice. Jisung spun around in surprise to find himself face-to-face with the king of Levanter. The king wore a playful smirk as he regarded the startled advisor, resembling a lion poised to pounce on unsuspecting prey—both handsome and formidable.

“Sire!” Jisung squeaked, slightly jumping in shock before quickly bowing deeply toward the king, accidentally bumping his head against the man’s chest and drawing a wry chuckle from Hyunjin in response.

Straightening up, Jisung continued, “My apologies, Your Majesty. You startled me. Allow me to introduce myself: I am Han Jisung, courtier to Lee Felix of Felor—”

“Why is your hair dark?” the king abruptly interjected, silencing Jisung without malice—instead, his tone was filled with genuine curiosity.

Baffled, Jisung frowned and glanced at Felix for a moment, who returned an equally puzzled look. “Pardon?” Jisung asked hesitantly.

The king’s smile widened in amusement at their confusion, a hint of something unfamiliar sparkling in his deep chocolate eyes as he regarded the other man with interest. “I’ve never seen a Feloran with such dark hair,” he mused aloud before extending his calloused hand and running his fingers through Jisung’s hair, delicately twisting a lock around his index finger.

Heat rushed to Jisung’s cheeks from the sudden attention—and from receiving such focus from a king. At that moment, Felix abruptly stood up, causing their gazes to shift to the blonde silently.

“Jisung was born of a Feloran mother but not a Feloran father,” Felix interjected politely on Jisung’s behalf.

Even as he addressed Felix, the king’s eyes remained fixed on Jisung, entranced by the beautiful, darting doe eyes that avoided his intense gaze. “And his father is…?” he pressed.

Jisung nervously bit his lower lip, his gaze fixed on the ground near the king. Felix hesitated, aware that the king was probing into the race of Jisung’s father—a topic that had long fueled criticisms among nobles questioning why Felix chose Jisung as his advisor. Yet, if anyone wouldn’t judge, it would be the people of Levanter, famed for taking whomever they pleased into their beds out of wedlock, wouldn’t it?

“Unknown,” Felix replied, fidgeting uncomfortably and briefly averting his eyes, only to look back and see the king staring at him blankly. “For what it’s worth, I personally chose Jisung as my—”

The king burst into loud laughter, waving Felix off dismissively. “I’m not about to punish anyone for being illegitimate. Relax! We can’t choose who our parents fuck!” he declared with gusto, his voice carrying far enough to provoke scandalized laughter among those nearby.

Both Felix and Jisung froze in disbelief at the bluntness and crude humor casually displayed at a royal wedding. The king gave Jisung one last appraising look before murmuring under his breath, “Half-breed… interesting,” and turning back to his table with a languid wave of farewell.

Shaken by the king’s carefree demeanor and his outright use of a derogatory term in public, Jisung quickly bowed again. As he straightened up, he mouthed an apologetic word to Felix, his face burning red with embarrassment over accidentally causing a scene at his best friend’s wedding before hastily retreating.

Felix took a step to follow his friend, knowing that Jisung would be overly self-conscious and upset, but stopped when he felt Hyunjin reach over to snatch his wrist firmly.

Felix stiffened and twisted his head to glare at Hyunjin through clenched teeth, trying not to display visible aggravation. This was already a nightmarish affair, he refused to make more of a scene than he already had done by showing open disdain towards his new spouse.

“Sit down,” Hyunjin grunted between gritted teeth without meeting his eyes, his voice raised enough to seem almost friendly but with an authoritative edge to it. “They’re watching."

Felix bit his lower lip thoughtfully, debating whether to comply. Realizing he couldn't risk any unnecessary conflict on the first day, he reluctantly sat down again, a forced smile on his delicate face. To his surprise, Hyunjin spoke casually while eating, commenting between bites of meat. "Dragons have never been extinct, only endangered. You foreigners think they're gone because the people of Levanter stopped conducting dragonback raids, leaving everything behind in ashes," he remarked as if discussing the weather. Felix blinked in confusion at Hyunjin, who glanced at him sideways, gauging his reaction and smirking at his bewilderment.

“Change of heart?” Felix quipped flatly.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes. "Why rely on dragons to do what we can do with our bare hands?" Hyunjin countered, flexing his fingers demonstratively, and flashing a cocky grin.

The implication was clear as day; he might as well have told Felix to picture how many elves he could slaughter single-handedly should he please.

“Your hands can spit fire? That's quite remarkable," Felix responded with sarcastic flair, taking a deliberate sip from his goblet of water.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes in disapproval, but couldn't quite suppress a smirk as he continued to stuff his face with more food, clearly unable to resist the temptation to egg on an elf who had unexpectedly shown some spirit.

“Well, my hands don’t torch an entire camp when they don’t like the flavor of a particular goat," Hyunjin quipped with his mouth full, letting out a dry chuckle.

Under ordinary circumstances, Felix might have chuckled along, but in truth, he was far too uneasy to manage even a smile.

The ordeal dragged on agonizingly. Minutes crawled into hours filled with obligatory gifts, congratulations, feasting, and drinking. Everything blurred together as Felix struggled to maintain his composure while Hyunjin had long abandoned him to his own devices. The older man mingled with soldiers, exchanging jokes, wrestling, dancing, and seeming truly entertained by their company—unlike Felix, whose only companion was a cup of wine. Normally, Felix didn’t drink, but desperate moments called for desperate measures. Water was doing nothing to ease his discomfort, and he figured that if he kept drinking, he might black out, ending this nightmare sooner.

When he noticed Hyunjin returning to the table after a successful sparring match with a large, tattooed fellow, Felix quickly downed the rest of his drink. He poured himself another glass of the bitter liquid, anxious that bedtime might be approaching—a thought that sent unpleasant chills down his spine. As Hyunjin sat down, he declared loudly that the party was only just beginning.

Felix’s stomach sank, wondering if the rumors were true and if he was about to face a public consummation. Surely, he silently prayed that he wouldn’t have to endure that particular ritual with everyone watching in a drunken, blissful stupor. Fortunately, Hyunjin was simply referring to more dancing, albeit a far more bawdy type this time, with jesters performing lewd dances in various states of undress, bards telling risqué tales through song, and magicians showcasing all sorts of improper illusions. Hyunjin laughed uproariously, clapping his hands heartily at the particularly salacious stories.

Felix had been trained to remain neutral even in the most stressful situations, having learned from a young age to wear a stone-faced expression no matter what internal storms raged. However, when he witnessed the court jester mimicking what looked almost exactly like coitus in front of the crowd, his cheeks burned red with embarrassment. Still, he managed to hold himself together.

That is until a group of actors began dramatically reenacting the very wedding that had just taken place before the audience, casting themselves as Felix and Hyunjin. When the actor portraying Felix knelt at the ‘altar’ before the figure playing Hyunjin and simulated oral sex, the crowd erupted with hoots and hollers. In the midst of sipping another refill of wine, Felix choked audibly at the sound of their ecstatic shouts.

Hyunjin didn’t seem to notice, seeming uncharacteristically bashful at the display, hiding his face with a napkin but clearly laughing along as well.

Once Felix regained his composure, he fought hard against the nausea and nervousness that threatened to overwhelm him. He was tired of living in fear.

With a slight turn towards Hyunjin, he swallowed his anxiety and spoke in a calm, honeyed tone.

"Commander," he said politely, pausing momentarily. Hyunjin looked at him, curiosity piqued, as he sipped his drink. The irritation on Hyunjin's angular face softened when he saw Felix's respectful and composed demeanor, a contrast to his previous behavior. "May I ask... in Levanter, are consummations conducted publicly?" Felix whispered nervously. His voice was barely audible over the noise of the nearby drunkards and the relentless plucking of lute strings by the musician in the corner. He felt his face flush with embarrassment, ashamed to have asked such a bold question out loud.

Hyunjin seemed completely unfazed, much to his surprise, merely giving a casual shrug. "Sometimes," he replied vaguely, a faint smile playing on his lips, his eyes gleaming with a sharp intensity as he met Felix's gaze, watching the color drain from the younger one's face. Felix looked away quickly, unsettled by the response and unable to maintain eye contact with Hyunjin's piercing stare.

"Are—um… Do you know… Are we required to… um—perform—?" Felix stammered quietly, his voice barely audible over the noise echoing throughout the room.

Hyunjin let out a snort and set his cup down with a thud. "Look, elf. Whatever you've heard about Levanter customs, forget it. It's probably bullshit anyway," he laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. He seemed more amused than angry, contrary to what Felix had feared. Perhaps the alcohol was a factor. "Sure, some newlyweds can't wait and fuck right here on the tables, sometimes even inviting others to join, but there's never any obligation," he explained calmly.

Felix was embarrassed just thinking about it, but before he could say anything, Hyunjin leaned in closer, grinning mischievously to make himself heard over the noise. Felix shivered involuntarily.

"Is that what you want, elf? For me to bend you over this table and have my way with you in front of everyone?" Hyunjin teased with a wicked smirk.

Felix had reached his breaking point. The most unsettling aspect was how Hyunjin's gaze made his stomach flutter, though it might have been the alcohol. Even so, Hyunjin's behavior—crude, disrespectful, and boorish—utterly repulsed him. It didn't matter that he was strikingly handsome, with intense, chestnut-dark eyes, features as if sculpted from marble, and a sharply defined jaw under soft, full pink lips.

Felix suddenly got to his feet, flinging his napkin at Hyunjin's face, prompting the latter to laugh with glee. "You are vile, repugnant, and intolerable, Commander! I can no longer endure this debauchery without losing my sanity! Enjoy your feast with the rest of the filthy barbarians here!" he exclaimed angrily, leaving the hall without a backward glance and without waiting for permission to leave.

The guests were too engrossed in their revelry and intoxication to notice or care about Felix's departure. Hyunjin, however, was taken aback by the elf's outburst, not anticipating such defiance. He shrugged it off nonchalantly, poured himself another drink, and downed it quickly while pondering whether to continue the festivities or call it a night.

Chapter Text

Felix entered the grand bedchamber, having left the celebration earlier than planned, escorted by a couple of attendants and breathing heavily in slight distress. As he looked around the room, he became puzzled upon seeing several items he hadn't brought from Felora. He stopped the door from closing and called out to one of the attendants outside. The girl quickly returned, bowing as she arrived.

"I think you've taken me to the wrong room. It seems someone else is already staying here," he said calmly. The attendant glanced down, trying to suppress a smile, while the others a few feet away couldn't contain their laughter. This only increased Felix's concerns.

"Apologies. The ladies have indulged in too much ale tonight, I fear," she said with a slight frown at her colleagues, trying to regain her composure. "These are the commander's quarters," she explained, maintaining polite eye contact.

Felix shook his head and stepped out of the room. "No, the apologies are mine. I should have specified that I'd like to retire to my own personal chambers for the night," he clarified.

At that moment, the group of girls erupted into laughter again, unable to maintain their composure. Even the attendant seemed on the verge of losing her restraint, her mouth stretching into a wide grin as she struggled to suppress her amusement.

"Forgive my bluntness, but is it unusual to share a marital bed among your people?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Felix stayed silent, pondering if he had heard correctly. Among the nobility of Felora, each spouse had their own bedchamber, and they only shared a bed when one summoned the other for physical favors or procreation, typically for no more than an hour, often much less.

"You are expected to share a bedchamber with your new husband, Prince Lee Felix," she clarified at last, noticing his lack of verbal response as he stared blankly, lost in thought. Still, Felix said nothing, retreating back into the room quickly and gently closing the door behind him.

Once alone, he let out a sigh, resting his forehead against the wooden door with a soft thud.

"Seriously, do Feloran royalty not sleep with their consorts?" a low voice murmured from within the room.

Felix let out a startled yelp and nearly lost his balance. He spun around frantically to find Hyunjin casually unbuttoning his coat. Hyunjin looked up, unfazed by Felix's panic, and met his gaze with an expression of calm detachment.

“What are you doing in here?” Felix gasped, placing a palm over his pounding heart as if it might burst at any moment.

“It’s my room,” Hyunjin replied wryly, casually tossing his coat onto an ottoman.

Hyunjin’s torso was clad in a fitted chainmail shirt that clung to his body perfectly, offering complete freedom of movement despite being crafted entirely from heavy metal links instead of a typical fabric like cotton or linen.

“You weren’t here when I got here just a few moments ago,” Felix remarked sharply. Hyunjin raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“I was in the closet, putting my boots away,” he explained matter-of-factly as he began unfastening the seams that held his top together.

Felix frowned disapprovingly, noting how his new husband seemed intent on undressing right in front of him in the middle of the room, making no move to retreat behind a curtain or any semblance of privacy.

“So how did you manage to get here before I did?” Felix asked.

Hyunjin let out a short, amused laugh, allowing his top to drop carelessly to the floor before proceeding to remove the strapped holsters from his thigh and carefully set aside the knives.

Felix deliberately turned his gaze away from the unabashed display of bare skin. Tempted to chide Hyunjin for his shameless behavior, he bit his tongue and looked elsewhere, though he couldn’t help feeling that heat building in his stomach as he caught sight of those flexing, sweat-slick muscles—a sensation both unusual and uncomfortable, perhaps a side effect of the spicy Levanter cuisine.

“Well, for one, I didn’t have to ask for help finding my... because it’s my room,” Hyunjin answered bluntly, as if that were obvious. “I guess having longer legs helps too,” he added with a playful snicker.

Felix groaned in frustration, yet instead of complaining about Hyunjin’s lack of modesty and nonchalant attitude, he dropped the subject and marched past him. Trying to prove his disinterest, he sought refuge in the adjoining bathroom area of the main bedroom, hoping a splash of water on his face would cool the rising agitation.

His attempt to escape was abruptly thwarted when two arms suddenly shot out and wrapped firmly around his slim waist, yanking him back and practically flinging him onto the oversized mattress with ease, causing him to bounce once upon impact.

A surge of pure dread struck Felix as he scrambled frantically toward the center of the bed, his eyes wide and breaths coming in labored gasps, desperate to distance himself from his assailant.

“Ew, get your shoes off my clean sheets,” Hyunjin whined, his face twisted in disgust as he grabbed Felix by both ankles, roughly yanking him downward and beginning to unlace each boot without ceremony.

In the unexpected drag, Felix’s robes bunched up, momentarily exposing his thighs. A sudden wave of mortification flooded him; he hastily pulled down his garments to cover himself, his pulse spiking with anxiety.

Before he could even register what was happening, his boots were carelessly tossed aside—one of them missing its mark and striking a potted plant instead.

“Oopsie daisy,” Hyunjin mused in a drunken tone, accompanied by a giggle that sounded utterly sinful to Felix’s ears for reasons he couldn’t quite comprehend.

However, when Hyunjin twisted Felix’s legs so that his knees bent and abruptly spread them apart before even beginning to undo his own leather trousers, Felix continued clinging tightly to his robes in a desperate attempt to cover his lower body. But as the reality of what was about to happen finally sunk in, he froze in pure horror. He fixed his eyes on the ceiling, hoping to detach himself from the impending ordeal, yet every movement and sensation around him seemed to intensify as tears streamed down his temples in silent surrender.

“You know, as much as I’d rather fuck a cockroach than one of your kind, let’s just get this over with and move on,” Hyunjin slurred, his voice thick with drunkenness as he fumbled with the laces of his trousers.

Even amid the appalling circumstances, those words struck Felix with deep pain. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter in self-loathing, loathing not only the words themselves but also the small, bitter part of him that wondered why Hyunjin seemed to be the only man in the world who wasn’t on his knees begging for him. Coming from a nation where suitors from every corner once lined up at his father’s throne, all eager for a chance to court the Prince of Felora, Felix now found that here—and especially from Hyunjin—he was met with absolute contempt. It wasn’t unexpected, and the feeling was reciprocated, but it stung all the same.

It was an odd sensation because Felix had longed to be so utterly undesirable that the brute would have no use for him beyond that of a mere ornament. Yet, being compared to something lesser than an insect caused a painful twist in his gut. He tried to remind himself that this was someone unworthy of his tears and that he had agreed to all of this willingly. Still, the mere thought of exposing himself to someone who despised him as if he were nothing more than a toy was sickening, and his tears soon turned into muffled sobs. This was his life now—a life traded away by his family like livestock, all for a pathetic promise of peace between nations that was doomed to fail eventually.

His lip quivered with anguish, and the overwhelming emotions threatening to choke him made his chest ache in anticipation of the worst kind of pain and violation.

Hyunjin barely seemed to notice Felix's distress, muttering curses under his breath as he abandoned his struggle to untie the knot at his crotch. With a quick shove that pushed Felix’s legs aside, he stepped away to grab a knife from the table next to his weapon holster, slicing through the laces effortlessly. Turning around, he found Felix, sprawled on his side and sobbing uncontrollably, his hands gripping his robes so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

For a moment, Hyunjin simply watched the scene, a mix of confusion and hesitation clouding his face at the unexpected, loud weeping of the once razor-tongued elf. Uncomfortable with the display, he defaulted to his familiar cruel teasing, wishing they could go back to exchanging barbs instead of this vulnerable encounter.

“Damn, elf, if you think I’m that repulsive, you could have just said so. I can send one of my men over—someone you might prefer—to finish the job. And no one will ever know,” he taunted.

But the remark only intensified Felix’s sobbing, something that both puzzled and irked Hyunjin.

“Elf—”

“My name is Felix,” the elf managed in a hoarse whisper, his voice cracking as he sniffed and gasped between tears, desperate to hide any sign of weakness.

“Alright, Felix,” Hyunjin replied with a note of exhaustion as he moved to stand at the foot of the bed, looming over the curled-up figure below. “What the fuck is your problem?” he demanded flatly, reaching to pull Felix off his side. Instead, his touch made the smaller figure recoil violently as if burned, nearly toppling off the bed before steadying himself, sitting upright and curling his arms tightly around his bent knees.

A heavy silence fell, broken only by Felix’s soft, labored breaths as he fought to calm his crying enough to speak.

“I’m afraid,” he whispered so quietly it was barely audible.

Hyunjin arched an eyebrow in skepticism. “Afraid?” he echoed.

Felix offered a pitiful nod, his tears now streaming faster and dripping onto the satin sheets.

Rolling his eyes and crossing his arms, Hyunjin stated coldly, “You should be. You’re a Feloran elf on Levanter turf. We don’t like your kind. Despite being welcomed into our kingdom unharmed, you’ve already shown defiance and that sharp tongue of yours. Keep acting like an entitled brat and you'll be treated exactly as such. You’re going to get yourself burned.”

“How is this being unharmed?!” Felix demanded, hiccuping as fresh tears fell, his voice a mix of anger and despair. “Your food tastes like lava, you and your people mock me, and now…” He weakly gestured toward the bed, pausing to catch his breath after a few dry heaves.

Now, Hyunjin looked genuinely perplexed. “What? Fucking? If sex hurts, then you’ve been doing it all wrong,” he chuckled in disbelief.

Felix winced at the crude language. “I was told that intercourse always hurts the first time for those being penetrated—even the first few times afterward, depending on the size—”

At this, Hyunjin erupted into hysterical laughter, moving around the bed so he could look directly into Felix’s face, eager to see the expression of genuine distress and confusion on the elf’s features.

The sudden closeness sent a shock of fear through Felix, who kept his eyes fixed on Hyunjin in case he lunged, even though he knew resistance was futile.

“Intercourse!” Hyunjin repeated, his voice loud between bouts of laughter.

Felix curled his lip in a sneer. “I’m pleased you find my fear of being violated amusing,” he snapped, his breathing gradually steadying as anger began to override his humiliation.

After a moment, as if his drunken state had caught up with him, Hyunjin abruptly halted his mockery and frowned in curious disbelief. “Wait— you’ve never done it before?” he questioned bluntly.

Felix lowered his gaze, trying hard to remain calm despite the anxiety bubbling up inside him as his lack of experience was laid bare. "Feloran royals remain chaste until marriage as a sign of respect for purity," he explained hesitantly, clutching his robes tightly to hide his embarrassment about never having been intimate with anyone, bracing himself for the inevitable teasing that would follow.

Hyunjin's eyes sparkled with interest. "I knew about the tradition, but I didn't think anyone actually followed it," he commented with a chuckle. "Are you only talking full-on penetration? Have you done other things? Like blow-jobs? Maybe a handy behind the bushes?" Hyunjin teased, laughing at Felix's bewilderment.

"I don't know what those terms mean," Felix replied seriously, utterly mortified.

Hyunjin casually sat down next to Felix at the head of the bed. He seemed less intimidating now, which Felix thought was due to Hyunjin relaxing, his posture more slouched. Felix felt uneasy facing him directly, so he turned his body to the side, parallel with Hyunjin.

Hyunjin looked at him incredulously, grinning widely at his innocence. "Blow-jobs? Uhhh... what's the proper term...? Like, have you ever had someone's cock in your mouth or vice versa?" he explained vaguely, making suggestive gestures with his hands. "Or have you ever licked someone's pussy or had yours licked if that’s what you’re hiding under there?" he added mischievously, eyeing the form hidden beneath layers of opulent silk, playfully lifting a corner of Felix's robes to peek under, causing Felix to yelp in surprise and swat his hand away while clutching his robes shut.

Hyunjin burst into laughter, thoroughly entertained. He was clearly just trying to provoke Felix, and it was working.

Felix was aghast at Hyunjin's suggestions, certain he must have misunderstood. The thought of someone's genitals near his mouth made his face scrunch up in disgust. "Absolutely not!" Felix protested heatedly.

Hyunjin shook his head with a crooked grin that Felix found both infuriating and oddly captivating. His eyes were drawn to Hyunjin's perfect white teeth.

"A handy is like..." Hyunjin seized Felix's hand, which was clutching his robes tightly. Felix, startled and frightened, tried to pull away, but Hyunjin held on firmly. He guided Felix's hand to mimic the motion of stroking him over his unfastened leather breeches, moving it back and forth near the area where his pants were open, revealing a bulge behind the snug black underwear.

"Oh, Felix! Fuck! Right there! Keep going... Fuck! Harder! You're so good at this!" He moaned obscenely loud, pretending to thrust up into the hand.

Felix gasped in shock, tearing his hand free so abruptly that his skin felt like it was burning.

He realized he probably seemed naive and pathetic when Hyunjin burst into snorts and cackling laughter, amused by Felix's reaction. Felix wanted to tell him that he wasn't some clueless virgin ignorant about sex and that he actually knew quite well about such things thanks to his less-than-innocent friends, but he just didn't recognize the euphemisms. Yet, what would be the point in arguing sexual knowledge with this madman? It would only make him look immature. Nonetheless, despite the pain in his wrist, he managed to deliver a harsh smack to the side of Hyunjin's head, which stopped his mockery.

Instantly, Felix clapped a hand over his mouth, alarmed by his own violent reaction, and braced for retaliation from the taller man who had been taunting him. Hyunjin blinked in surprise once, then twice, gently rubbing the spot where he'd been hit before slowly turning to look at Felix, whose eyes were wide with sheer terror.

Felix barely moved his hands from his mouth to mutter a trembling apology, bracing himself for some kind of physical reaction that never came. Hyunjin stayed quiet for a while before finally breaking the heavy silence.

"You know, that could be considered an act of treason," he stated calmly, observing as Felix grew even more tense.

Struggling to breathe evenly, Felix stared cautiously through his long eyelashes at Hyunjin, who met his gaze with a thoughtful and unmoving expression, waiting for Felix to make a move.

Eventually, Hyunjin's face cracked into a wide smirk, followed by a high-pitched cackle, clearly amused by Felix's terrified demeanor. He leaned in uncomfortably close and said, "But I won’t tell if you won’t," with a teasing wink before suddenly standing up and strolling over to the wardrobe, acting carefree as he flung the knife across the room, embedding it in a wooden beam.

The precision was flawless, almost threatening, but Felix let out a noticeable breath, his heart finally calming, though he remained alert around the unpredictable Commander. Hyunjin stumbled toward the bathroom attached to the quarters, slurring his words. "Anyway, I'm washing up before bed. You can stop worrying about 'intercourse'," he mocked Felix's voice, rolling his eyes. "I'm too fucking drunk to get it up anyway," he laughed, then continued more seriously without looking back, his tone void of amusement.

"I know you see me as a violent, bloodthirsty creature with no soul, and you're not entirely wrong, but no matter how much I despise your kind, I wouldn't force myself on someone. Especially not a frightened virgin who's clearly as thrilled about this situation as I am," he stated firmly. "So just do whatever you need to sleep and chill the fuck out. I'm not going to rape you, elf... Felix," Hyunjin corrected with a sigh, disappearing into the washroom as the sound of running water filled the air.

Felix remained silent, his eyes wide and unblinking, his lips slightly parted in astonishment at Hyunjin's honesty. He was unsure how to process the confession, too weary to ruminate now that his anxiety had ebbed away, leaving behind only a sense of numb exhaustion. Yet, one question lingered in his mind, compelling him to cautiously get off the mattress and approach the door.

After spending a moment outside, considering his words, Felix finally cleared his throat to speak softly, giving a gentle knock. He anticipated the commander would respond from behind the closed door, allowing him to convey his message. Instead, Hyunjin swung the door open on the first knock without any delay, causing Felix to jump back in surprise at their sudden closeness.

"What?" Hyunjin asked with impatience. He had already stripped down to just his snug cotton underwear, which left little to the imagination. Felix looked away, trying not to be distracted by the defined muscles that appeared as Hyunjin casually stretched his arms upward to hold onto the door frame, waiting for Felix to speak.

Felix, realizing he'd forgotten his original purpose, quickly searched his mind and remembered his question. "Where do I sleep?"

Hyunjin tilted his head in confusion. "In the bed?" he answered slowly, emphasizing each word as if speaking to a child.

"Do you not already occupy this bed—oh… oh no..." Felix started, his voice dropping low as he suddenly understood Hyunjin's implication, and his face felt hot. "We're to share a bed?"

Hyunjin cocked his head, a blend of impatience and amusement evident. "No shit. We're married now, no?" he mocked, groaning theatrically and rolling his head from side to side with clenched fists. "Calm the fuck down. I told you I'm not going to rape you. I won't touch you, not even by accident. You keep your filthy elf parts on your side, and I'll keep to my side. Got it?"

Felix swallowed hard, nodding reluctantly. "Understood," he whispered, his eyes still averted from Hyunjin's near-nakedness.

Despite the agreement, Felix couldn't shake his distrust of the man. Something about Hyunjin unnerved him deeply; maybe it was his rapidly shifting demeanor—calm one moment, cruel the next, then sincere, now agitated again. Perhaps it was the unpredictability that frightened him. Or maybe it was those taut muscles on that tanned, battle-scared skin.

Hyunjin scoffed quietly, shutting the door harder than necessary, and muttered something unintelligible about ignorant elves as Felix took a deep, unsteady breath and then quickly bolted away, unwilling to even entertain the idea of sharing a bed with the commander.

Chapter Text

Hyunjin left the dining hall, offering suggestive farewells to his comrades as they cheered and wolf-whistled, their drunken calls echoing down the corridor. The celebration carried on without him, but he had other business to attend to: locating his new husband, who'd stormed off in a burst of righteous fury.

"Hyunjin," a voice called from behind, and he halted mid-step.

He turned to see the king approaching steadily, his crown askew from the revelry, yet his eyes remained sharp and clear despite the many toasts they’d shared. Unlike the intoxicated nobles still feasting, King Minho had always maintained a remarkable tolerance for Levanter’s strongest spirits.

"Already off to consummate your union?" the king teased, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. His tone was light, yet his gaze was calculating as he scrutinized Hyunjin’s face.

Hyunjin’s jaw tightened. "If that's what you command, Your Majesty."

Minho’s smile wavered. He glanced around to make sure they were alone before speaking further.

"Jinnie—"

"No," Hyunjin cut him off. "You don't get to call me that."

Minho’s eyes flashed with irritation, though he offered no reprimand.

"You lost that privilege when you set me up to marry a fucking Feloran elf prince behind my back," Hyunjin hissed.

"He is no longer a prince. He relinquished—"

"Not the fucking point!"

Minho frowned, and although his posture was rigid and his gaze unyielding, his voice stayed even. "Your vitriol toward me as your king is understandable, but I still demand respect as your elder brother."

At that, Hyunjin snorted derisively, eyes rolling.

The king pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed wearily, his shoulders sagging slightly. "Under normal circumstances, I would have never offered you for such a position, Hyunjin, but things... things are complicated," he murmured.

Hyunjin scoffed. "Complicated? Is that what we're calling it?" His voice dripped with venom. "You wed me to a fucking elf for politics, and you can't even grant me the decency of an explanation beyond 'it's complicated'?"

Minho stepped forward, chin raised defiantly and anger creeping onto his features. "As king, I do what must be done to protect our people. We have little magic left here in Levanter; we are weakened. Only two dragons remain, and they cannot even procreate. Rival kingdoms will eventually take notice that we are holding onto our legacy by a thread, leaving us vulnerable to conquest. Without that which has sustained this nation since time immemorial, we have no choice but to form alliances with forces who wield magics of their own. If you think your displeasure with a spouse is a greater tragedy than the ruin of our entire kingdom and its people, then I implore you to reassess your fucking priorities."

Hyunjin flinched at his brother's cutting words, swallowing hard and averting his gaze in shame. He knew well how beneficial this alliance was for their people. Had he been consulted before the marriage to the prince, he might not have reacted so fiercely. But having it arranged without his input felt like a betrayal—a reminder that he was merely a pawn in political maneuvers. Perhaps the alcohol in his blood made him more petulant than usual, pushing him to test Minho’s patience beyond normal limits.

Suddenly, a reassuring hand rested on his shoulder. He looked into the king’s concerned eyes.

"I already told you—I carefully selected him myself because—"

"—because everyone you talked to said he was a ray of fucking sunshine. Got it. And everyone says I spit fire and have scales under my clothes. We probably shouldn’t believe everything people say, huh?" Hyunjin retorted bitterly. "He is an—"

"Elf. I know. Levanter’s history with Felora hasn’t been the best, but you mustn’t judge every member of a nation so harshly, Jinnie. Of all people, you should know better," Minho chided softly before continuing. "Look, I’ll be honest and won’t say more, so don’t even ask. I chose you because I believed you needed someone—a companion, a friend, a balance. I thought his nature would benefit you greatly. I took a chance, and now I’m begging you to give this a chance. I don’t care what your relationship turns out to be, just... go easy on him," he urged hopefully before withdrawing his hand and stepping back. "I could be wrong. He might turn out to be evil incarnate behind an innocent mask and end up being the worst thing for you—possibly even triggering the downfall of Levanter as we know it. And if that happens, I swear to you that I will fall upon my own sword. But I sincerely hope that isn’t the case," He paused, fighting back a slight smirk. "Besides, there are far worse fates than being wed to one of the most desired beings in the entire world AND being rewarded for it by his kingdom, no?"

The commander rolled his eyes before replying in an exaggeratedly cheerful tone, “Yay, me!”

Minho raised an amused eyebrow. “Another perk—Feloran men are the only males of any race capable of carrying and birthing children.”

Hyunjin’s face paled slightly at the remark before grimacing at the thought; he had heard it before but dismissed it as idle gossip spread by lascivious old men.

“On that note, I’m out,” Hyunjin announced, turning sharply and stomping down the corridor.

“Hyunjin!” Minho called after him.

The commander froze. With an irritated sigh, he turned to meet his older brother’s somber gaze.

“Don’t... hurt him. Please. This isn’t his fault any more than it is yours. You exchanged sacred, blood-sealed vows. As a man of Levanter, you must honor them.”

For a moment, Hyunjin's breath caught in his throat as if fighting back a lump from forming.

“It pains me that you think so low of my inhibitions, brother,” Hyunjin murmured quietly before spinning on his heel and leaving once again.

Despite the harsh words, Minho managed a gentle smile as he watched his brother walk away, pleased to finally be addressed as 'brother' once again and knowing that beneath Hyunjin’s fury, a part of him still understood his duty, and it would just take some time.

Minho began toward his own room, eager to shed the tension after hosting so many guests. Barely four paces down the hallway, a figure rounded the corner with such speed that they collided.

The sudden rush caused King Minho to stumble backward; instinctively, he wrapped his arms around the stranger’s torso only to fall, dragging the startled newcomer on top of him with a heavy grunt.

Minho lay flat on his back and quickly lifted his head, ready to demand an explanation—but the words died in his throat as Jinsung sprang upright, straddling his hips. Jinsung’s wide eyes shifted from surprise to apprehension as he realized who was beneath him, his disheveled dark hair and crooked glasses betraying his alarm.

“Your Majesty,” Jinsung gasped stiffly, awkwardly leaning forward in an attempted bow. For a brief moment, they were face-to-face, and the mingling scent of wine reminded Minho just how near the advisor was. “S-sorry, I’m so clumsy! Please forgive me!” Before Jinsung could regain his balance and stand, the king gripped both sides of his head firmly, stilling his motion.

Heat flared in Jinsung’s face as he gazed up at the intense eyes fixed on him, desperately trying not to notice the firm, warming body directly beneath. Convinced that he was about to be reprimanded—or worse—for having knocked the king onto his back, he chose silence and closed his eyes, dreading the inevitable backlash.

“Open,” Minho ordered in an even tone. The word echoed ominously in Jinsung’s ears.

Torn between curiosity and dread, Jinsung reluctantly opened his eyes, peering down at Minho lying below him. For several moments, the king’s expression remained unreadable as he scrutinized every detail of Jinsung’s flushed face—the twitch of his brows, the set of his jaw—until his gaze finally rested on a pair of plump lips.

“Your irises lack gold flecks,” the king remarked absently, raising a hand to sweep stray hair from Jinsung’s forehead. His fingers glided softly over the smooth skin above the brow, eliciting a gasp that only intensified the warmth coursing beneath Jinsung’s skin, distracting him from the unfolding conversation.

King Minho was sinfully attractive—a fact that seemed magnified by the wine or their compromising position. Though it was decidedly improper for a subject to lie atop his king, here they were: Jinsung with barely any room to move, his knees pressed against Minho’s warm sides, their thighs intimately close as they sat together on the floor.

“As I mentioned before, only my mother is Feloran; my father… is unknown,” Jinsung managed to mumble, his lips feeling dry with awkwardness.

A crooked smirk curved Minho’s lips as his hand wandered slowly along the side of Jinsung’s neck, sending sparks of desire shooting down the advisor’s spine. Jinsung did his best to hide the shudder that betrayed him, standing as still as possible despite the involuntary tremors ignited by those roaming fingers.

“Ah, yes. A half-breed…” the king murmured.

Instantly, Jinsung’s mood soured, a frown darkening his handsome features. Despite the king’s attempted hold, Jinsung pulled away, sitting up and climbing off so he could stand, hastily fixing his appearance without drawing attention. He offered the king assistance to rise; Minho raised an eyebrow in amusement but accepted the help nonetheless.

Jinsung then bowed formally, mindful of any inadvertent rudeness, and said, “My apologies again, Your Majesty, but I must be going. Good night.”

Before he could depart, Minho seized his wrist. “Stay,” he commanded curtly, squeezing firmly to assert his authority. “Join me for the night.”

“What?” Jinsung blurted, bewilderment and a tightening of his heart evident in his tone.

Minho stepped closer until they stood toe to toe. With his free hand, he brushed dust from the front of Jinsung’s coat, his fingers lingering just a moment too long as they grazed the advisor’s chest.

“I said, join me for—”

“I know. I heard you, but—”

“You are quite bold, interrupting a king, half-breed,” Minho teased with a playful admonishment and a genuine smile.

Jinsung frowned. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I have no desire to spend the night with someone who insults me based on circumstances beyond my control,” he replied simply, averting his eyes.

Minho appeared genuinely taken aback. “Insult?”

“Half-breed,” Jinsung sighed, fighting back his frustration.

Minho paused thoughtfully, then met his gaze with a hint of guilt. “Is that considered a derogatory term among Felorans?”

The question sounded absurd, drawing a humorless laugh from Jinsung’s throat. Although Minho appeared sincere, past experience kept Jinsung from becoming hopeful—he’d learned not to assume kindness from the people of Levanter.

“Would you believe me if I said I use that term with affection?” Minho asked softly, tilting his chin upward and forcing his gaze to meet Jinsung’s as he drew them close once more. Slowly, his fingertips caressed the advisor’s cheek before he continued, “I call you that because I want you to understand that I see you for what you are; a bastard of unknown lineage—as many here are--and yet… I still want to know you, Han Jisung... inside and out.”

Jinsung blinked rapidly several times before swallowing hard.

“And if I asked you to never call me that again, what would you say?” he dared, not really expecting an affirmative answer.

“I would confess that your desires surpass even my own.”

The words left Jinsung breathless as if all the air had been knocked from his lungs. He struggled to grasp the reality of what he’d just heard; after all, they had only met that very night. Surely, these were mere platitudes intended to seduce him. Yet, Jinsung wasn’t averse to a one-night stand—especially not with a remarkably handsome man who stirred unfamiliar emotions within him. Though he’d never been with a king before, he had his fair share of secret rendezvous within the palace walls of Felora, where desires and disappearances were common. Though technically a courtier, he was not of royal blood, and thus, he did not feel bound by conventional rules even if being caught behaving promiscuously would have undoubtedly cost him his position. Still, no one had ever expressed an interest in him so blatantly and openly as King Minho did. Perhaps it was Minho’s subtle charm and unwavering gaze; he hadn’t resorted to crude catcalls or lewd propositions. Instead, Minho was soft despite his sharp eyes, sweet despite his habitual sternness, and painfully skilled with his words.

Nevertheless, Jinsung needed more clarity, so he asked, “What exactly do you mean when you say ‘join me for the night’?”

Minho offered the gentlest smile while holding Jinsung in place without force. “We can talk, get to know each other. I could show you my collection of one-of-a-kind illustrated novels. If you’re still hungry or didn’t care for the food served, our chefs can prepare anything you desire. We could play a game or two or simply… sleep. I know you’ve had a long day and might be tired, so we needn’t do anything you do not wish. It’s entirely up to you.” He licked his lower lip nervously, feeling the dryness of his skin against his tongue, and glanced upward with a mix of apprehension and hope, his eyes scanning the ceiling as if searching for answers in the patterns above.

Jinsung found himself utterly entranced, perhaps even falling in love with the man before him. He couldn’t tell whether it was the wine or if he had succumbed to a spell cast by those sincere eyes, but without hesitation, he blurted, “Fuck that. I want your taste your cock before riding you into oblivion," before crashing his lips against Minho's with a fiery intensity, an urgent collision driven by an unstoppable desire, unable to hold back any longer.

The heat between them was palpable, a magnetic pull that neither could resist.

Minho tore himself away first, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. His lips hovered just a hairsbreadth from Jinsung's, their shared air hot and electric between them.

"That works too," he gasped, eyes dark with want. "My chambers. Now.”

He pulled the advisor along as he frantically led the way to his room, never breaking contact for longer than necessary to ensure they didn't collide with walls. Jisung found himself being pulled along by a king who couldn't seem to keep his hands to himself, gripping, squeezing, and caressing every part of him he could.

Jisung hadn't anticipated his first night in Levanter to turn out this way, but he definitely wasn't objecting.

He could only pray that Felix’s night was going as well as his.

Chapter Text

Hyunjin stepped out of the washroom with bare, glistening skin and a towel wrapped around his waist. Steam spilled out past the open doorway, carrying the sweet scent of exotic fragrances unique to these lands.

He frowned at the sight of an empty bed and scanned the room—nothing else seemed amiss. Frankly, whether the elf had run away from the palace only never to return or not didn't concern him; it was the elf's choice, and Hyunjin wasn’t about to waste energy chasing after him. Instead, he headed to the closet to fetch a pair of pants for the night, only to notice that the closet door, which had been open before, was now firmly shut.

Moving quietly, he approached and attempted to open it, but the door wouldn’t budge. Frowning, he pulled harder, yet it remained sealed as though wedged shut from the inside.

A muffled, angry whine broke through from behind the door.

Hyunjin froze in disbelief. “Hello?” he called out suspiciously.

“Go away!” came the sharp reply.

A smile of disbelief crept onto Hyunjin’s face. “Really, hiding in my closet? How old are you? Planning to spend the night in there?” he teased, beginning to wonder if all elves maybe this inexperienced and immature.

“Yes! Now leave me alone! Please!” Felix whimpered miserably, his voice thick with sobs.

Hyunjin winced and groaned quietly—he didn’t have the energy to deal with the overly dramatic elf right now.

“I told you I’m not going to—”

“I don’t care! I don’t trust you!”

With an irritated inhale and exhale, Hyunjin decided it wasn’t worth arguing further. “Fine, I don’t care where you sleep, but I need to grab some pants!” he demanded impatiently, tapping his foot.

When silence persisted, he banged sharply on the solid doorframe. “Elf! I demand access—”

“My name is Felix!” the muffled voice interjected harshly between sniffles.

Stomping his foot petulantly, Hyunjin snapped, “Fine, Felix. Open the damn closet already!”

“Go away!” the stubborn reply came through once more.

Rolling his eyes in defeat, Hyunjin turned away, resigned to not arguing with the spoiled brat. “Fine. You force me to sleep naked, so don’t get all dramatic when you eventually come out, and my cock is lying out in the breeze, you fucking asshole!”

With that, he grabbed a chair from the dining table, hauled it over to the door, and forced it beneath the knob for leverage. Two could play that game.

He then ripped off his towel, tossed it onto a nearby chair, and slid naked into his side of the king-size bed, a smirk tugging at his lips as he imagined the hilariously horrified reaction the prince would have if he ever saw him like that.

Meanwhile, Felix lay on a makeshift bed crafted from some of Hyunjin's elegant fur coats, which he had pulled down from various shelves in the walk-in closet. Though not exceptionally soft, they provided enough comfort for the night. Anything was better than lying next to that foul-mouthed barbarian. Ignoring Hyunjin's rants and insults, Felix covered his ears tightly until silence returned. When he finally lowered his hands, he could faintly hear Hyunjin's drunken muttering and a sound resembling skin sliding on sheets. Felix decided to ignore it, relieved that Hyunjin was nowhere near him. He wrapped his heavy silk robes around himself, not bothering to change into more suitable nightwear, and burrowed deep into the plush fur pelts until only tufts of his blonde hair were visible, resembling a bird's nest. He willed himself to relax and sleep, despite lingering fear and anxiety from being in a new kingdom among people who held him in contempt.

In this land of unfamiliar faces and customs, with food so spicy it made him choke, everything felt strange and foreign. Sleep eluded him as he lay awake, worrying about the future and replaying the day's events over and over until he finally drifted off between quiet tears and anxious thoughts.

His slumber was brief, interrupted by an urgent need to relieve himself after all the wine at the celebration. Reluctantly, Felix left the warmth and security of the thick fur pile and cautiously moved into the darkness. When he tried to open the door, he realized Hyunjin had barricaded him inside the closet. Annoyed, his eyebrows knitted together, but he remained as calm as possible. He knocked twice on the wood, hoping his new husband might still be nearby to help him out. Receiving no response, he knocked louder several times.

"Commander?" he called softly, but received no response. Letting out a heavy sigh, his cheeks puffed up, he allowed his shoulders to slump in defeat for a moment, unsure of what to do next. The sensation was becoming unbearable, so he figured he might as well keep trying. He knocked forcefully for the third time, finally hearing some movement followed by grumbling from the other side.

"Fuck off!" came the grumbled voice, followed by an irritated scoff and then silence.

Felix knocked again urgently. "Commander Hyunjin! Please! I need to use the restroom! Open the door right now!" he pleaded desperately through clenched teeth.

Only silence followed as if Hyunjin was either sleeping through it all or intentionally ignoring the pleas. Frustration boiled within Felix as he realized he wouldn't be getting out without waking the commander. He needed to think quickly, as pounding fists and shouting weren't working.

An idea formed in his mind. Embarrassing as it was, it was the only thing he could think of that might catch the commander off guard and get his attention. Desperate times called for desperate measures. Swallowing his humiliation, he took deep, steady breaths to prepare himself.

He let out a breathy laugh, attempting to make it sound suggestive, letting it fade into a moan followed by another chuckle. Momentarily panicking, he realized he didn't know what people said in intimate moments, so he mimicked what Hyunjin had said earlier while simulating a handjob, hoping he sounded believable as he lowered his voice a few octaves to really sell it. He moaned again, adding variety and authenticity to the act.

“Oh, yes! Right there, keep going… Harder! You're so good at this!” exaggeratedly groaned, leaning his full weight against the door to create noises suggestive of imaginary intimate activities, punctuating with exaggerated gasps and moans for added effect.

"Right there. Oh, yes!" he exclaimed. Without any prior warning of footsteps or movement, the door suddenly swung open, causing Felix to stumble and fall directly into Hyunjin.

Hyunjin caught him instinctively, steadying him with one arm tightly around his waist while brandishing a sword defensively into the now empty closet, glaring as if expecting a threat.

Finding nothing amiss, Hyunjin looked down at the elf pressed firmly against him, breathing heavily from his hurried attempt to stay upright, which had failed.

"Care to explain?" Hyunjin hissed, his voice dripping with sarcasm, as he stared at Felix, whose face turned a deep shade of red, realizing the awkward situation he'd gotten himself into. He felt foolish for making such loud, obscene noises and was acutely aware that Hyunjin was likely still undressed, having rushed over without bothering to cover up.

Felix's large, doe-like eyes blinked shyly up at him. "I need to relieve myself," he muttered, unable to meet the commander's gaze due to the embarrassment of faking such an act and being caught in the process by a naked man now holding him so closely.

"It sounded like you were ‘relieving yourself,’" Hyunjin remarked humorlessly, his eyes fixed on Felix warily.

Felix squeezed his eyes shut tightly. “No, not like—“

"You elves are nothing but troublemakers. What was the point of this? Was it just for amusement? Do you get off on being a pain in my ass?!" Hyunjin bellowed with a voice that could shatter glass, his grip constricting like a vice until the tendons in his hand stood out in stark relief. He gripped the silk fabric of Felix’s bunched so mercilessly in his fist that it strained against the relentless pressure until it seemed on the verge of tearing.

Felix began to wonder if the man's leniency last night was just due to drunkenness and if now, with sobriety returning as the dawn approached, as made apparent by the faint glow at the windows, he would finally face Hyunjin's true colors. Felix squirmed, fighting desperately against the powerful hold that kept him trapped. "Commander, please! Stop! I had to wake you somehow, and—"

When Hyunjin lifted his sword to hover just centimeters from Felix's cheek, Felix experienced an intense fear unlike anything he'd ever known. As if the situation couldn’t possibly get any worse, perhaps prompted by Felix's sudden surge of panic or just by chance, urgency took over.

Felix stood frozen, eyes tightly shut, barely breathing, as warm liquid quickly seeped from beneath his robes, streaming down his leg and pooling on the floor. The force of the stream created a mortifying splash that echoed in the room, instantly staining his expensive attire. They both remained silent and motionless for a moment, allowing the scene to unfold awkwardly. Eventually, Felix mustered the courage to open one eye and cast a timid glance at the Commander, who looked utterly incredulous as he stared at the puddle around his feet. Felix was sure it had soaked the Commander's thigh as well, though he couldn't be certain and didn't want to dwell on it. "Please forgive me, Commander. I—"

“Did you just fucking piss on me?”

Hyunjin asked, his voice even and his gaze fixed on the wet stain spreading across his left thigh. That was all it took to set off another round of tears, the thousandth since stepping inside these walls. Felix's face turned red with embarrassment, his eyes clouded, and his lower lip quivered uncontrollably as he struggled to maintain composure, even though he wished he could disappear forever to avoid his current situation.

“I didn’t mean to! I swear! I knocked on the door and called for you, but you didn’t respond! I urgently needed the restroom, but it was locked! I truly didn’t— I’m sor— this is so embarrassing,” Felix stammered through his hiccupping sobs, sacrificing his remaining dignity in hopes of avoiding whatever punishment might come. “Please. I don’t want this. I didn’t want any of this. I want to go home! Please!” he cried, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks, while saliva filled his mouth and threatened to spill over, mixing with the urine that ran down his legs and clung stickily to his ruined clothes.

Felix didn't notice Hyunjin watching him, his expression blank, as he took in Felix’s tormented features, seemingly perplexed by the depth of despair etched across the prince's face.

Hyunjin found himself facing one of the toughest internal struggles of his life. Real combat had never stirred such deep confusion and conflict within him. Why did he find tears more unsettling than blood? His instincts suggested that this elf had intentionally done this to belittle him—waking him from sleep and then wetting himself deliberately to mock and humiliate him. Yet the genuine anguish on the elf's annoyingly beautiful face seemed real enough. Hyunjin had enough worldly experience to recognize that if the elf were attempting another trick, as he had when he tricked him into opening the door, he wouldn't express a desire to leave this arrangement. Wouldn't someone with hidden motives try to stay, perhaps using seduction to fulfill their secret agenda?

Hyunjin couldn't tell if it was genuine or not, but remembering Minho's words from their conversation in the hallway the night before, he realized he had to give in, at least a little. Even if it felt like swallowing poison and his limbs were about to detach.

"I release you," Hyunjin said softly, lowering his sword arm until it hung limply by his side. He loosened his grip on the elf, who immediately froze, utterly stunned by the unexpected words from someone who had seemed so intimidating before.

"I release you to wash up and do whatever you need to just... calm the fuck down. I assume you don't want to undress anywhere near me, so find your friend— the guy with big glasses and curly hair. Go to his room to bathe, sleep, whatever. Take as much time as you need, but just get out of my sight now," he added in a flat tone, feeling more defeated than anything else, though somewhat relieved as the shock of being urinated on started to fade and exhaustion began to creep back in after the adrenaline rush subsided.

Felix was initially taken aback, but then he slowly relaxed, realizing he wasn't about to face execution or have his fingers and toes removed for his offenses. Uncertain whether to trust the commander's sudden change in demeanor and seemingly genuine words, Felix hesitantly glanced up through his wet lashes, expecting to find signs of deceit or trickery. Instead, he saw only the tired circles under weary eyes.

Hyunjin completely let go and took a step back, giving Felix a clear view of his torso, which looked divine—muscles were well-defined and taut without being overly bulky. Felix quickly averted his gaze upward, deliberately ignoring the exposed lower regions. Hyunjin, appearing unfazed, was staring back at him with suspicion, seemingly awaiting a reaction. Felix avoided even a peripheral glance, fearing the temptation would be overwhelming, and instead focused intently on the commander's striking facial features to distract himself from any other exposed areas. After a long silence, Hyunjin whispered sharply, "Go away."

Felix was startled as he recalled his mission, quickly hurrying away while constantly looking back nervously, fearing the Commander might change his mind at any moment. He nearly slipped several times due to his wet feet before finally rounding a corner and rushing to find Jisung’s room.

Meanwhile, Hyunjin stood silently in the room, contemplating the encounter. Now alone and able to process everything, he leaned back against the edge of his table for support, placing his sword on it and rubbing his tired eyes with both hands. It was remarkable how one person could so profoundly affect his emotions—making him feel sympathy for someone he'd normally execute without hesitation for disobedience and anger for being used as a pawn in some strange game. Not to mention the primal, deeply ingrained sexual attraction he felt. Despite his race, Felix was undeniably captivating, and Hyunjin was, after all, only a man.

Hyunjin let out a loud groan, raking his fingers through his short hair before releasing a heavy sigh. He couldn't fathom how he would survive living under the same roof as that irritating creature for the rest of his life. It just seemed impossible.

Chapter Text

Jisung's body shook uncontrollably, a sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. He was on the brink of climax, pleasure surging through him chaotically, leaving him breathless. Arms encircled him tighter in urgency before flipping him swiftly onto his back, with the king maintaining his relentless pace as if time itself had paused. His glasses lay forgotten on the bedside table.

Even with his pupils wide with desire and his eyes half-closed, King Minho kept his gaze locked on Jisung's captivating face. In this position, with Minho's arms still holding him tightly, their noses touched gently each time the king thrust forward, moving them together in a rhythmic dance. Minho leaned in for another fervent kiss, drawing soft gasps from Jisung, whose nails dug into Minho's back with a particularly forceful thrust.

Jisung had to break the kiss to catch his breath, feeling dizzy with Minho's presence overwhelming his senses—his scent, his touch, his taste. It felt like a dream, difficult to believe that the man above him, uninhibitedly expressing such pleasure, could truly want him in this way. The king quickened his pace, breathing heavily, his eyes fixed on Jisung as if searching for something beneath the surface before pressing their lips together once more, messily.

"Pardon, Your Majesty—" Jisung murmured against the king's lips, but Minho interrupted him.

"Minho," he corrected with a breathy voice, breaking the kiss and gazing affectionately into Jisung's wide eyes. "Call me Minho."

Jisung barely processed the words, hastily responding, "M-Minho! I'm so close— Please—don't stop. Oh, fuck—" he whined.

The advisor gasped as the king hoisted his legs over his shoulders, gaining leverage to thrust deeper relentlessly, hoping it would send Jisung over the edge.

And it did.

Almost immediately.

His back arched off the bed, toes curling, a silent scream escaping from parted lips as thick ropes of white covered his abdomen and chest. Jisung experienced unparalleled euphoria, riding wave after wave while Minho continually rolled his hips to extend the high for the beauty beneath him.

Minho's gaze never left Jisung, not even blinking once, as he watched pure ecstasy transform his lovely facial features with pleasure. Finally, Minho ceased his movements, allowing Jisung a moment to regain full cognition, tenderly caressing his face and planting gentle kisses on every inch of warm skin he could reach.

"Fuck," Jisung panted, unconcerned that he was in the presence of royalty. At this point, it didn't matter. "I've never felt anything like that," he muttered absentmindedly as his hand absentmindedly rubbed the top of Minho's upper arm, unaware of his actions or the intense, hungry gaze Minho directed at him.

After several more moments of catching his breath, Jinsung forced his eyes open, only to be met with dark irises piercing into his own, burning with an unyielding intensity that seemed to sear into his very soul.

"Was that some form of magic?"

Minho's smile was tender as he gently swept the hair from the younger man's forehead, planting a chaste, lingering kiss there that seemed to ignite a foreign emotion in Jisung that he couldn't quite identify.

The king shook his head gently, eyes never leaving Jisung's.

"No magic, honey," he murmured with a fervor that resonated deep, "Just me." He leaned in closer, their breaths mingling, as he brushed their noses together with affection.

"Honey?" Jinsung whispered, the word escaping him with a tremor, his voice a raw, cracked whisper laced with curiosity and awe.

Minho gazed warmly into his eyes, a smile lingering on his lips. He paused briefly before replying, "It's a term of endearment between lovers in Levanter." Jisung considered questioning the use of the word 'lovers' but chose not to. He wasn't ready to explore that topic, especially since Minho seemed so calm, looking at him without any judgment or disgust, despite Jisung being sweaty, messy, and naked in his bed.

“‘Pardon, Your Majesty’?” Minho teased with a grin, echoing Jisung's earlier formal tone.

"Force of habit," Jisung said, slightly out of breath, with a soft smile.

Then he realized Minho was fully hard still inside him, and embarrassment washed over him for losing himself in his own pleasure. He glanced down, but their intertwined bodies blocked his view.

"You haven't finished," he remarked, a bit stunned.

Minho followed his gaze briefly before meeting Jisung's eyes again. There was a fleeting look in Minho's eyes, something akin to embarrassment before he offered a gentle, apologetic smile.

"It doesn't come easily for me, but it's not your fault, honey— not at all. Don’t worry. It'll subside soon." He reassured before beginning to pull away from their embrace, ready to roll aside, but Jinsung seized his upper arm in a vice-like grip.

"Are you saying you can't reach climax, or does it just take you longer?" he asked innocently.

Minho initially grimaced, looked down for a moment, and then met his gaze again, replying softly, "I can; it just usually takes longer." Jisung frowned a bit, processing what he'd heard. "Then why did you stop?" he inquired.

Minho shook his head gently as he spoke with sincerity, "I do not wish to push you beyond your point of endurance and comfort level."

Jinsung blinked owlishly several times. Then his eyes glinted with determination before yanking the older in so close that the contact sent shivers down the king's spine. "I don't know if you noticed, Minho, but I possess an overwhelming, insatiable stamina that demands release. So, if it requires my utmost effort to push you to the edge, then I shall do just that," he declared with a sultry intensity, his lips trailing along the king's neck with teasing, deliberate nibbles, eliciting another involuntary shudder from him.

"Honey, you don't have to—"

"Shut up," Jisung commanded with unwavering authority, pushing Minho onto his back with a swift, decisive motion. Jisung slid upward until he was perched dominantly over Minho's waist, causing Minho's member to slip free from its sheath.

Jinsung emitted a quiet, involuntary whimper, then resumed his task. He grabbed the edge of the bedsheet, clamped it between his teeth, and tore off a strip with sheer determination, repeating the process once more.

Minho lifted his eyebrows, both puzzled and impressed that someone dared to mess with his stuff so boldly. Yet, he didn't object as Jinsung skillfully secured each of his wrists to the ornate wooden posts of the king-sized bed, giving the knots a gentle pull to make sure they held firm. Unable to move freely or escape the scene, Minho found himself feeling both nervous and strangely thrilled.

"If my advisors are right in thinking you Felorans are a crafty bunch of wicked tricksters, then I must be the fool because I seem to have quite willingly fallen into your trap..." the king murmured wryly, a slight nervous edge to his voice as he tested the restraints, finding them surprisingly secure. "Is this how I meet my end?" His question seemed half-joking, half-wary, but there was an undeniable fire of desire in his eyes.

Jinsung tilted his head, entertained as he watched his helpless companion sprawled on the grand bed.

"Is this okay? Not too tight?" he inquired gently before leaning down to place a tender kiss on Minho's forehead.

Minho's eyes flickered wildly as confusion gripped him, and he demanded with an edge of desperation in his voice, "What is the meaning of this?”

A lopsided smirk appeared on Jinsung's face as he moved back. He navigated the sheets, finding Minho's neglected member, which had relaxed a bit over the past few minutes, and quickly began to skillfully stroke it back to life.

"You gave me the most incredible orgasm of my life, so it's only fair I return the favor," Jinsung explained patiently, twisting his hand around the sensitive head with a deliberate stroke that made Minho gasp and squirm against his restraints, his cock twitching back to full hardness with remarkable speed.

Jinsung smirked at this.

“You’re a king with the weight of an entire nation upon your shoulders. I think you deserve a reprieve. No decisions to make or people to please. Just lay there and enjoy yourself."

Jisung carefully climbed further down, gently pushing Mingho’s legs apart just enough to nestle comfortably between them, his back turned towards him. The room was filled with a charged anticipation as Jisung reached behind him, his fingers gliding over the sensitive underside of Minho's shaft, eliciting a shiver. With deliberate precision, he positioned it just outside his entrance, and slowly, inch by inch, he eased himself back, the tension building with each subtle movement. Their simultaneous groans resonated through the room, then fell into a profound silence as Jisung became fully seated, his breath hitching momentarily. He paused, allowing himself to adjust before lifting slightly and settling back down with a sense of purpose.

He set a deliberate, unhurried rhythm, rolling his hips tenderly for a while. Each motion was met with the sound of heavy breathing that filled the space behind him. A playful smirk crossed his lips as he paused mid-motion just at the tip. A mischievous glint was in his eyes, and he was rewarded with an immediate response.

The king let out a soft whine, his body trembling with anticipation coursing through him like a live wire. His eyes were locked onto the scene before him, unable to look away.

“Enjoying the view?" Jinsung teased with a playful grin, his voice echoing with mischief as he remained perched atop the rigid member of the man bound beneath him. The air was thick with tension, a palpable energy that seemed to hum around them.

A low groan resonated somewhere behind Jinsung, and he began to lower himself with deliberate slowness, each glorious inch drawing them closer together. As he resumed his rhythmic bouncing, Minho’s continuous needy moans filled the space, each wet, slick slide up and down creating a symphony of intimate sounds.

Minho’s hands tightly gripped the fabric of the makeshift ties, grounding him in this unusual yet exhilarating experience. He found a surprising pleasure in relinquishing control, in surrendering responsibility to someone else, and allowing Jinsung to take the lead. But the sight of Jinsung’s gorgeous body moving rhythmically, his hips swaying with precision and purpose, was a kind of sweet torment. Minho yearned to reach out, to grasp those narrow hips tightly, to feel the warmth of skin against his fingers. Jisung's curving spine, the expanse of his soft, flawless skin, and the way his black hair bounced with each movement was driving him wild along with the clear view of his ass on display as he slid up and down Minho's cock was almost too much to bear. It was a feast for the eyes, a sensual spectacle that Minho had the privilege to witness, yet was restrained from fully engaging with.

"Fuck," Minho praised breathlessly, his voice hitching as he tugged at his restraints. "You're so fucking beautiful, honey,"

The praise sent a warm flush across Jisung's skin, a delicious contrast to the cooling sweat on his body. He felt empowered, desired in a way he'd never experienced before. With the king bound beneath him, completely at his mercy yet praising him so reverently, Jisung felt something shift inside him—a confidence blooming where insecurity had once taken root.

Yet, Jinsung’s movements were slow, deliberate, and precise, each motion sending ripples of pleasure surging through Minho’s body. It was an effortless dance of sensation, one that brought only blissful pleasure without pain or difficulty. The only sounds were the breathless pants from Jinsung’s lips, sounds that seemed to melt Minho’s resolve in mere moments. This was a new kind of ecstasy, one that set his mind racing, trying to grasp the depth of this unfamiliar bliss.

When Jisungs half-lidded eyes glanced back at Minho over his shoulder with a genuine look of shy satisfaction and an alluring smile, and such tenderness and vulnerability that transcended the physical act they were engaged in, Minho's heart stuttered in his chest, and a feeling he couldn't quite explain overtook him, sending him soaring right over the edge.

“Oh, shit! Honey, hop off—AH, FUCK!"

Minho's warning came a bit too late, as he struggled against the restraints, unable to intervene while waves of euphoria overtook him, crashing into his senses until everything else faded away, leaving only the relentless hum of white noise that drowned out reality as he spurted his release deep within Jisung, who continued to ride him with purpose, savoring the way Minho's muscles tightened exquisitely with each wave of climax, ensuring every last drop was drawn out of the man before he climbed off, a satisfied smirk adorning his handsome face, and lay down beside Minho, spent.

The room was silent except for the sound of their labored breathing as they tried to regain their composure and clear their minds after the overwhelming surge of hormones that clouded their rational thoughts.

“I didn’t mean to—” Minho started, his voice hoarse and filled with concern, but was quickly shushed by Jisung's finger pressed gently against his lips.

"It's okay," Jisung whispered reassuringly. “I wanted—”

“But what if you—”

"Don't worry about that," Jisung interrupted, his voice soft yet firm. “I can’t. I’m only half, remember? Trust me. It hasn’t hasn’t happened before, at least.”

The sincerity in his voice seemed to ease Minho's worry, but the thought of another spilling their seed into the beauty beside him ignited an unexpected spark of possessiveness in Minho's chest.

Eventually, Jinsung turned onto his side and carefully began to loosen Minho's bindings. Once freed, the king quickly grabbed Jinsung's face and kissed him passionately, rolling over to take control of their interaction. Minho clutched Jinsung's hair, keeping him close as they eagerly explored each other's mouths, their sighs and groans filled with pleasure until they pulled apart to catch their breath.

Jisung opened his eyes to find the king gazing at him with furrowed brows and slightly parted lips—a surprisingly cute expression on his regal face. “What’s this?” Jisung teased, seeing Minho's intense, yet unreadable, gaze.

“Payback,” the monarch responded sharply, a playful glint in his deep brown eyes. He pressed down more firmly, asserting his dominance before diving in for another passionate round.

Chapter Text

Felix sat nearly engulfed in the soapy sea within the copper bathtub, determined to remain submerged forever if it meant escaping the chaos in his mind. His face was void of any emotion as he persistently scooped the frothy liquid, manipulating it into various forms, desperately trying to drown out his racing thoughts. When the door burst open, Felix remained unfazed, indifferent to everything, even the breach of his privacy.

Jisung jerked in surprise, finding his friend languishing in the vast basin with a disturbingly vacant stare. Quickly regaining his composure, he recognized Felix was disassociating, knowing his friend all too well and settled crisscrossed onto the cold tile floor beside the tub. A slight wince flickered across his features as he settled, muscles protesting with soreness from earlier activities before he let silence envelop them both, content to simply be present for Felix even if the blonde didn’t want to talk.

Felix continued his trance-like play for countless minutes, shaping and reshaping the soap and bubbles into intricate figures, until finally, words broke through the heavy quiet.

“A guard showed me to your chambers,” Felix announced flatly, his eyes never looking up from what he was doing.

Jisung hummed in acknowledgment, his silence a comfortable companion to Felix's presence.

“Seeing as you were absent upon my arrival and your bed is still made, I presume you spent the night elsewhere. Am I right?" Felix inquired softly, his tone gentle and free of any trace of accusation. His eyes flickered up briefly, seeking understanding. “Did you have fun? Did he treat you well?"

Jisung knew the questions were genuine. Felix had always shown the utmost care for Jisung's well-being and personal happiness, particularly when it came to Jisung’s rather daring escapades. Felix's concern was palpable, his hopes that Jisung would make safe choices in partners, choosing those who were worthy of his affections. He often delivered gentle lectures on how these dalliances could one day have unforeseen consequences despite Jisung's reassurances that he would be fine. Given the notorious reputation of the men in their new kingdom, it was reasonable to expect Felix's worry to be increased.

Jisung couldn't contain the wide grin that erupted across his face as he relived the memory of his passionate night: the electrifying caresses from a force so powerful yet tender, their sweat-slicked bodies entwined in a fervent dance unlike any he'd ever experienced with another. Their eyes locked in a fierce gaze as if the universe had shrunk to just the two of them, moans harmonizing like a symphony. He was discovering uncharted territories within himself, sensations igniting his very core as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over him until he succumbed to an all-consuming slumber. Eventually awakening, he slipped away, leaving the mesmerizing sight of the king's exquisite, naked form peacefully at rest.

"He treated me exceptionally well," Jisung replied with a warm glow in his voice. Felix shot a quick glance over, his mind whirring with caution, before turning back to the foam castle forming between his hands. He gave a curt nod, a silent acknowledgment of his friend's words, but his thoughts were a storm of anxiety. Felix harbored a deep-seated fear of his friend being ensnared by a web of miscommunication, boundaries blurred into chaos, a casual partner morphing into a possessive force, the lurking specter of disease, the nightmare of public exposure, and the most harrowing thought of all...

"Were you safe?" he murmured, his voice heavy with apprehension, unable to bear meeting Jisung's eyes, the weight of his dread pressing down like a vice.

Jisung averted his gaze, his lips sealed in stubborn silence, fully aware of the storm brewing inside Felix. "Han Jinsung!" Felix shouted, his voice a crescendo of exasperation, before hurling his creation with force, splattering it across Jisung's face in a fit of pure frustration.

Jisung spluttered, blinking furiously to clear his vision. "Sorry! Sorry! It happened on a whim," he stammered, frantically wiping bubbles from his cheeks and fumbling with his glasses. "I didn't think it through—my mind was a whirlwind because I wanted him so bad! Besides, if I could carry children, we would've figured that out ages ago, no?" he argued, desperately clinging to logic.

Felix stared, aghast, horror etched into every feature. "How often are you having unprotected intercourse?!" he demanded, his voice climbing an entire octave in sheer disbelief.

Jinsung rolled his eyes with exaggerated drama, reaching out with a sudsy hand to playfully smother his friend's horrified expression. "Don't give me that look! I swear you know about every single time, even the ones you'd rather forget!”

The blonde shoved the hand away, eyes blazing as he pointed an accusatory finger at him. "It better stay that way, or I'll feed your manhood to the harbor fish myself!" he threatened, his voice a sharp crack in the air as he sent a splash of bathwater crashing in Jinsung's direction, dousing his fiery spirit. He crossed his arms defiantly, a stormy petulance radiating from him.

But soon, their tension dissolved into friendly shared laughter, settling into a more comfortable silence.

"So, I gather your night didn't go too well?" Jinsung probed, his voice persistent yet gentle and soothing.

Instantly, Felix's posture turned rigid, and his hands twitched with volatile energy. Jisung picked up on this tension, carefully choosing his words, hoping to pry more from his usually loquacious friend.

“If you want to talk about it, I’m here, Lix,” Jisung added delicately, then took Felix's hand firmly in his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Felix stubbornly avoided eye contact, his gaze fixed on the soggy foam city that was slowly sinking into the water.

His voice trembled as he fought desperately to control the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. "I can’t do this," he admitted, his voice cracking under the weight of his feelings.

Jisung's brow furrowed with deep concern. "Did he hurt you, Felix?" he asked, his tone turning serious as he abruptly sat up straighter, tension coursing through him at the mere thought. "What happened? If he did something to you, then I'll go over there myself and—"

“He didn’t,” Felix interjected, cutting him off before he could finish.

The room plunged into eerie silence, broken only by the ominous drip of water—perhaps from a leaky tap or the slow creep of condensation. Felix drew a deep breath, wrestling with his emotions to regain control before speaking in a hushed, trembling voice.

"I thought he was going to, and I panicked. I couldn't stop crying, and when he noticed, he halted all advances. He sat beside me, launching into a crude, casual lesson on various sexual activities. I hit him," Felix admitted, a wave of guilt crashing over him.

"You hit him?" Jisung echoed in disbelief, his eyebrows shooting up at this shocking revelation.

Felix nodded, a mix of regret and bewilderment on his face. "He seemed to find it amusing."

Jisung, undeterred and driven by a burning curiosity, leaned in closer. "And then?" he urged, eager for more of the story.

"He went to bathe, so I locked myself in his closet—I slept there," Felix recounted, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. "Morning came, and I was desperate to use the bathroom, only to find he'd barricaded me in just as I had barricaded him out. I had to escape, so I…" He faltered, gathering his strength before continuing.

Felix inhaled shakily, casting a cautious glance toward Jisung, whose eyes were glued to him, alight with anticipation. "I pretended to be intimate with someone… loudly," Felix confessed, his voice tinged with mortification.

Jisung snorted lightheartedly. “Felix. I just told you that someone spurted their seed in my ass, but you’re acting all shy and embarrassed talking about some fake moaning?"

Felix shot him a reproachful glare, though his cheeks were a light shade of pink.

“Sooo…?” Jisung pressed, his curiosity insatiable.

Felix swallowed hard. "He opened the door. I urinated on him."

Jisung's jaw dropped, the silence between them heavy with disbelief. "How exactly are you still alive?" he demanded, his voice tipped between sincerity and jest.

Felix shrugged, a hint of irony in his voice. "He just told me to find your chambers, bathe, and rest. And here I am."

Jisung blinked, utterly confounded.

"Here you are indeed," Jinsung finally replied, his expression sharpening with concern. “So what’s the issue? Surely one insignificant accident beyond your control isn’t what’s got you so agitated."

Felix turned his gaze away, his cheeks flushing with a vivid blush. He raked a damp hand through his wet blonde hair, desperate for distraction.

“Lee Felix,” Jisung snapped, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

Felix exhaled heavily, feeling his defenses crumble like a fragile barrier under siege.

"I hate him,” he muttered, his voice cracking with defeat as his chin quivered. His throat constricted painfully, and tears threatened to spill from the corners of his eyes.

“He’s loud, thoughtless, brazen, shameless, vulgar, and heartless. His language is so foul, even far worse than yours on a bad day; he lusts for violence, and he flaunts his naked form without an ounce of shame." Felix enumerated each grievance with a heavy heart, his slender fingers ticking off each one. “He seemed to have seven different personalities just last night alone." He whined in a voice filled with despair.

“He loathes me as much as I despise him, but for no other reason than the mere fact that I’m Feloran and therefore am useless—except maybe to serve as his target practice or warm his bed—yet despite my abhorrence to him, He still stirs emotions in me that I can't comprehend or logically explain. I feel so hurt when he insults me. I hate him, Jisung. I hate him so much… so why do I find myself incapable of accepting the fact that he hates me just as much as I do him?" Felix poured out his heart, raw and emotional.

Jisung curled his knees to his chest, crossing his arms atop them, resting his chin thoughtfully as he pondered the turmoil.

“For starters, you have every reason to dislike him. He, on the other hand, has no legitimate reason to harbor hatred for you… well, except perhaps after you hit him and, uh, peed on him—but aside from that." Jisung teased lightly, drawing a reluctant, incredulous chuckle from the freckled elf before he continued with earnest seriousness.

“Honestly, Lix, you need to see this from an outside perspective. You are normally adored—by everyone. There isn’t a Feloran or a single citizen of Felora’s allied kingdoms with a single bad word about you—The Realm’s Ray of Sunlight," Jisung recalled fondly, using the affectionate title granted by the masses. “Could it be that you’re experiencing rejection sensitivity due to this unprecedented circumstance? Your pride might be wounded."

Felix stared ahead pensively, digesting that logic in depth before slowly nodding, brow knitted together.

"It seems like he's more lenient when you respond poorly to his behavior, so perhaps you should try that approach for a while, even if it's not in your nature and challenging," Jinsung suggested softly.

Felix bit his lip nervously, unsure about the plan. "And if that doesn't work? What then?" he murmured, disheartened.

Jinsung straightened up, a determined look in his warm brown eyes.

"I have a feeling we're not in any immediate danger of losing our heads if things don't pan out," he reassured confidently, keeping to himself that his newfound confidence stemmed from having brought King Minho to such a peak of ecstasy that the king wept genuine tears of overstimulation and overwhelming pleasure as he climaxed for the third time.

"Let's get you dried off and into bed. You look exhausted," he said with deep concern, plunging his hands into the bath to support Felix as he struggled to stand. He enveloped Felix in a thick cotton towel, pulling him into a fierce embrace that radiated warmth and reassurance. He was certain that Felix would bounce back soon; he just needed time to adjust to this new life he was thrown into.

“You try sleeping in the closet of that barbarian! I couldn't tell if the smell was from the dead animal hides I was forced to lie on or if it came from the boots that seemed to have never encountered soap and water in their entire wretched existence!" Felix ranted with indignation yet surrendered to the soothing care of his closest companion.

Jisung giggled endearingly at Felix's overly dramatic recount of the previous night's events, his laughter a soothing balm that hinted at Felix’s gradual recovery. The gentle embrace Jisung gave him felt like a promise of comfort, a final squeeze before he guided Felix into a lavish, long silk robe. The fabric glided over Felix's skin, whisper-soft, as Jisung led him out of the confines of the bathing room.

The bedroom awaited, a sanctuary with its freshly made bed, the sheets neatly tucked and eager to collect Felix's body and ease his sore, travel-worn muscles. “I’ll lock the door for you so no one disturbs you while I shower. When I return, I’m joining you because I’m exhausted too," Jisung murmured, his voice a gentle caress that warmed the air. He pulled back the sheets with care, the soft fabric folding back invitingly as if beckoning Felix to find solace there.

Without a moment's hesitation, Felix slipped into the bed, his movements fluid and seamless, as though he was meant to be nestled there. He curled into a fetal position, instinctively seeking comfort, and nuzzled contentedly against the plush pillows. A deep breath filled his lungs, the scent of clean linen and faint lavender wrapping around him, calming his earlier chaos. There was nothing more secure than being enveloped in a nurturing space after enduring a harrowing ordeal. The luxurious bed, a stark contrast to the cramped closet floor he had endured, offered an infinite improvement. Felix practically purred, surrendering to the embrace of slumber as it swiftly claimed him, the weight of exhaustion melting away.

Chapter Text

Minho strode confidently across the meeting room, his black attire impeccably tailored, with a crimson sash flowing regally behind him like a silken river. His steps carried an extra spring, a buoyancy that did not go unnoticed by the keen eyes of his council members.

"One could easily believe yesterday was your wedding day instead of your brother’s, given the exuberance painted upon your face. Has our king been blessed with a stroke of good fortune? Is there anything you would care to share?" Lord Seo Changbin, the Master of Arms, inquired with a casual air, his words eliciting amused expressions and soft chuckles from those gathered around the polished oak table. Minho, ever perceptive, caught the mischievous lilt in Changbin's tone, a hallmark of their long-standing camaraderie.

The roundtable was abuzz with early arrivals, each member eager to discuss the significant matter at hand: the initiation of trade relations with the prosperous kingdom of Felora, facilitated by the recent marriage of Prince Felix to the king's brother. The room was filled with the low hum of conversation as members socialized, their voices resonating softly against the ornate tapestries that adorned the walls, depicting scenes of legendary battles.

Minho joined in the laughter, fully aware that Changbin's comments carried no malice, merely the light-hearted teasing that was customary among friends. With a suggestive grin, he turned to his long-time ally and friend. “Drop the act, Binnie, and ask me with your full chest," Minho commanded fondly, his tone laced with the familiar banter that had defined their friendship over the years.

Despite some members of the king’s council being older by decades, their faces lined with wisdom and experience, the Master of Arms was slightly younger than Minho. Their friendship, forged through years of shared battles and victories, allowed for such playful exchanges, adding a touch of levity to the otherwise courtly proceedings.

Changbin’s thick, dark eyebrow arched inquisitively as he leaned forward, his eyes glinting with keen interest. “Very well,” he began, his voice edged with mischief, “has our king gotten laid?” His words tumbled out pointedly and without restraint, a provocative spark lighting the room.

Instantly, the chamber exploded into a cacophony of hollers and hoots. Men and women alike burst into boisterous laughter, their mirth unburdened by decorum, as they savored the revelation that their stoic sovereign had allowed someone beneath the cocoon of his closely wrapped armor. The air vibrated with exuberance until the raucous amusement faltered; all eyes shifted to the king, whose entire demeanor had transformed in an instant. His once relaxed posture stiffened like forged steel, every muscle taut, as his clenched fists thumped on the table—a silent plea for respect amidst the laughter.

For a brief, charged moment, the council members exchanged uneasy glances, their faces flickering with concern before they straightened up and steeled themselves to resume the pressing agenda.

“Sorry,” Changbin offered sincerely, his tone softening as he acknowledged Minho’s notorious reticence about romantic endeavors.

In response, Minho merely shook his head dismissively, avoiding anyone’s gaze. It was almost palpable how unfair it felt that his innermost sentiments were so quickly unraveled by those around him.

“I just don’t want anyone getting their hopes up,” the king interjected calmly, his composed tone belying the wild rhythm of his heart. “It was a good night, I will not deny that,” he continued, his voice measured yet warm with candor. “But it was merely a one-time occurrence—not a development that warrants further discussion. At my age, the pressure to wed is more intense than ever, yet we have critical work to secure the prosperity of Levanter before I can afford the luxury of pursuing a bond beyond pleasures of the flesh.” His words, carefully chosen and diplomatically delivered, flowed like a well-rehearsed soliloquy.

Everyone present had heard similar platitudes before when the topic of budding relationships arose, and thus they listened quietly to avoid stirring further discord, particularly in the presence of dignitaries from other kingdoms.

The king’s narrative shifted as he outlined strategic plans. “With Hyunjin’s marriage to the Feloran Prince, now is an opportune moment to establish a trade route for fresh fruits and vegetables to replenish our dwindling stocks. Their ruler has generously offered to welcome apprentices from Levanter, enabling them to learn the healing arts through magic. In return, our expertise in battle strategy and formation would be shared with their general. It is also crucial that we forge stronger bonds of trust between our peoples for future joint endeavors—”

No sooner had he spoken than the massive double doors burst open with a force that sent a collective shiver through those nearest. Every head turned in unison, drawn by the sudden intrusion. In the doorway stood a solitary figure, his rage etched deeply across his face. His eyes burned with a ferocity that promised retribution, and his clenched jaw, set like a predator ready to pounce, whispered that anyone unfortunate enough to be near might soon experience the full might of his wrath.

Hyunjin stood, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his apparent frustration, his eyes flashing with barely suppressed anger. He spoke bitterly, his words deliberate and edged with steel. "I want out. Now." The sentence emerged slowly, each word forced out between clenched jaws as if it physically pained him to say them.

A stunned silence descended over the room, a tense pause as everyone processed his declaration, each person carefully considering their next move, cautious not to provoke an outburst.

Without missing a beat, Changbin interjected, his voice smooth as he cast an apologetic glance toward Minho, whose expression turned solemn upon hearing Hyunjin's words. "Do tell what specifically has left you dissatisfied about your arranged union?" he inquired with feigned politeness, his tone mostly teasing. "Was the elf insufficient? He is, after all, extremely pleasing to the eyes, I must admit. I would think just having him lying there passively would please any lover fortunate enough to bed him."

Hyunjin growled, a low, dangerous sound rumbling from his chest, his glare sharp enough to cut. He fixed his gaze on the shorter man, who simply grinned innocently, unfazed by the clear warning. Among close friends, teasing about such delicate matters was not unusual, even in the presence of others of high status.

Hyunjin held the man's gaze with a fierce intensity, his features locked in a tight grimace. He spoke with barely contained contempt, ignoring the way the atmosphere in the room shifted, the tension thick enough to slice through.

"That fucking elf pissed on me!" Hyunjin exclaimed irately, striding purposefully toward his usual seat beside his brother at the table.

The revelation sent a ripple through the gathered crowd, drawing mixed reactions. Some wore expressions of disbelief, gasping softly, while others remained composed, their faces a mask of indifference.

Minho exhaled a heavy sigh of resignation, slowly sweeping a tired hand over his weary eyes before a reluctant huff of laughter escaped him, as if he couldn’t help but succumb to the moment. The entire assembly of officials burst into uncontrollable laughter, their mirth a collective response to the sheer absurdity of the revelation.

Unmoved by the uproar, Hyunjin remained detached from the shared hysteria. Accustomed as he was to the rowdy nature of the group, he allowed himself to collapse into his chair; his head bowed and cradled by folded arms resting on the polished surface of the table.

With a swift clap of his hands, Minho commandeered their attention, his posture laced with renewed authority.

Yet the stern facade quickly gave way to playful teasing as he remarked, “Kinky.”

Another wave of amused chuckles rippled through the room.

Minho watched with twinkling amusement as Hyunjin straightened abruptly. In one fluid motion, his hand darted towards a nearby platter, seizing a handful of plump grapes before playfully hurling them in the direction of his elder sibling. After his impromptu act, Hyunjin resumed his previous posture, a childlike scowl etched onto his face.

Raising both hands in a soothing gesture, Minho interjected, “Alright. Let’s resume, shall we?” Around him, every official nodded in unison, their flushed faces and twinkling eyes attesting to their shared merriment.

Before Minho could continue, Hyunjin’s attention was arrested by an unexpected detail: he abruptly snatched one of his raised hands, drawing it close to his face to scrutinize his wrist. His eyes narrowed as he noticed a reddened mark marring his skin. “What happened?” he asked, his tone mingling genuine concern with a hint of perplexity.

Despite the lingering grudge, Hyunjin’s duty as Commander of the Levanter Forces—and above all, his responsibility as Minho’s brother—imposed upon him a protective instinct. The very thought of any harm befalling his brother, especially while his attention flitted elsewhere in the presence of an elf, was simply unthinkable.

Just then, Changbin’s cheeky voice cut through the conversation, “Speaking of kinky,” as he deftly snagged a glistening apple slice from a nearby tray, adding his own mischievous flavor to the ongoing banter.

Minho withdrew his hand hastily, the creeping redness along his neck betraying his growing bashfulness as he evaded a direct answer.

“Bullshit,” Hyunjin declared in disbelief, his piercing eyes locking onto the king’s countenance with an intensity that demanded honesty.

Casting a sideways glance at his brother, Minho furrowed his brows and retorted with offense, “Is it so hard to believe? I mean, look at me.” He gestured proudly in jest toward his physique, drawing approving whistles and laughter from the surrounding clique.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes in a lighthearted yet pointed manner, replying, “Yes, because you don’t like anyone. You hardly even like us.” Despite the levity of the remark, another chorus of boisterous laughter erupted around the table, even as Minho struggled to appreciate the humor fully.

“That isn’t true, but enough jesting. Drop this, for now—it is neither the time nor the place. We have more pressing matters at hand,” Minho warned, his gaze sweeping the room as it fell upon those whose focus had now shifted from mere flirtations to the weightier issues before them. “For starters, Commander, I trust that your new spouse is enjoying the comfort of your chambers and not languishing in the dungeons, despite his so-called grievous transgressions against you.” His words were delivered formally, laced with a taunting smirk aimed unmistakably at his younger sibling, whose displeasure was palpable.

Despite the simmering loathing he harbored for his new husband, Hyunjin felt compelled to clarify, “I don’t believe he meant it as a grievous act against me, truthfully. I locked him in the closet overnight, and when I finally let him out, I guess he just couldn’t help—” His voice trailed off into an awkward silence.

“Wait— you locked the prince in a closet, entirely without a means for him to relieve himself?” interjected Doctor Yang Jeongin, the royal physician and advisor on matters of medical care regarding the king and his family, his eyes wide with incredulity. “Do you not understand the dangers of prolonged urinary retention? Bladder inflammation, infection, or even rupture can result from such neglect!”

Hyunjin groaned in exasperation, his irritation evident as he snapped, “I wasn’t thinking, okay?!”

With a swift, corrective motion, Minho lightly slapped the back of Hyunjin’s head with a flat palm—a gesture both reprimanding his reckless behavior and reminding him of proper decorum in the company of council members.

“You will apologize to your husband after this meeting for your blatant negligence and assure me that such deeds will never be repeated—unless you want me to chain you two together indefinitely. Is that understood?” His voice rose, imbued with a commanding authority, and his eyes blazed fiercely, leaving no room for misunderstanding his intent.

Ashamed and sheepish, Hyunjin leaned back, gingerly massaging the tender spot on the back of his head, his face a portrait of resignation as he nodded weakly in submission. He sank lower into his chair, his discomfort magnified under the scrutinizing stares of all present.

With renewed intensity, King Minho proclaimed, “Lee Felix is human, just like the rest of us—although he exhibits some unusual traits akin to those of his kind. Regardless of his origins or the magic he might wield, he is to be accorded the utmost respect by everyone here.” His eyes burned with unwavering resolve as he swept his fierce gaze across the council, compelling each member to either bow deeply or murmur their agreement.

As if on cue, a firm knock resonated against the wooden door, followed by the creaking of its heavy frame, as Felix struggled mightily with its sheer mass. “Apologies— heavy…” he chuckled nervously, his voice trailing off as he finally managed to open the door enough to step through.

His smile quickly vanished, replaced by anxiety as he spotted Hyunjin, who immediately stood up, gripping the hilt of his sword so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "You are not allowed here," Hyunjin declared sharply, his expression stern as he shot a glare at the blonde figure.

Felix had his hair styled in an elegant bun, held in place by several ornate, jewel-encrusted pins. His white silk shirt, adorned with silver stitching, clung so snugly to his frame that it seemed painted onto his trim waist. It matched perfectly with his loose, flowing white breeches that extended to his slippered feet. Despite his questionable actions, he was a striking sight, standing out starkly against the onyx stone walls of the volcanic fortress and the obsidian garments worn by everyone else.

Felix swallowed audibly and nodded slightly. Despite the risk, he couldn't dismiss Jisung's suggestion that being as bold as his now-husband might lead to better outcomes, given the pattern so far.

Summoning his courage, he met Hyunjin's gaze directly from across the room. "I don't think it's your decision to make, but rather His Majesty's," Felix responded coolly, casting a questioning look toward the sovereign.

The tension in the room rose sharply as everyone braced for a potential confrontation.

King Minho straightened his posture, exuding confidence as he maintained steady eye contact.

“You’re correct. Jinnie, fetch him a chair. He may sit next to you,” he commanded, his voice firm yet laced with unmistakable affection for his dear brother.

Hyunjin nearly began to protest, but a single warning glance from Minho had him moving immediately to retrieve a wooden seat and set it beside his own.

“Is it wise to have a foreigner listening when we discuss sensitive matters of our kingdom?” an older man demanded disapprovingly from near the far end of the table.

“He ceased being a foreigner the moment the vows were exchanged—he now shares matrimonial blood with our beloved Hyunjin,” Minho responded confidently, his gaze shifting reassuringly between the uncertain faces around him.

Felix blinked in surprise, his lips parting slightly as he processed the king's words. He had expected resistance, perhaps even outright rejection—certainly nothing like this defense of his place at the table. The contrast between the two brothers couldn't have been more stark; where Hyunjin radiated hostility and contempt, Minho's demeanor was impartial despite Felix’s association with a nation that had historically been Levanter's adversary.

Felix cautiously made his way to the offered seat, acutely aware of Hyunjin's scowl deepening with every step. When he finally sat down, he kept his posture rigid, hands folded neatly in his lap, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible.

Jeongin raised his hand politely. “May I interject?” Upon receiving a nod from Minho, he continued, “Traditionally, the blood exchange establishes the bond, but consummation solidifies the union…” he trailed off suggestively.

“No, we haven’t fucked, if that’s what you’re implying,” Hyunjin retorted bluntly, smirking dryly at the physician he’d known for years.

Beside him, Felix took a deep breath; the conversation unnerved him immensely, and he hoped his discomfort remained unnoticed by those present.

“Not for lack of trying, but because this dear prince seems to have a phobia of cock,” Hyunjin explained, laughing obnoxiously at his own joke. His comment drew lewd snickers from the other lords gathered in the room. “Cried like a baby at the very thought.”

Minho silenced the snickers with a raised hand.

Trembling beneath his clothing, Felix felt his face flush with embarrassment. He wished he could vanish into the floor, mortified by the discussion unfolding before strangers. Yet, matching the jibe in kind, he quickly responded with a snide remark.

“Forgive my reluctance, Commander. Perhaps had I been given more patience and consideration I might have warmed to the idea… but ah—right, it wouldn’t have mattered, since, what was it you said… you couldn’t ‘get it up’ anyway?”

Laughter boomed across the room as everyone enthusiastically cheered Felix’s comeback.

“One of us! One of us!” Changbin chanted merrily. Soon, others followed his lead, exchanging fist bumps with the newly emboldened yet visibly shaken newcomer.

The king knocked loudly on wood to reclaim their attention, his expression tightened as he struggled to hide his amusement at the unexpected turn of events. He cast a pointed look at Hyunjin, who merely sulked silently with his arms folded atop the table, epitomizing disgruntlement.

“To be fair,” Minho remarked calmly—even though the slight twitch of his lips betrayed a hint of a smile, “our newcomer earned that shot at you given your previous remarks and your insensitivity toward his basic needs. Speaking of—” He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table so he could look past his brother and study Felix intently. “I apologize on behalf of all Levanter for my insensitive brother. I am aware of your accident caused by his actions, and I can assure you it won’t happen again. If he harms you in any way, even inadvertently, please report immediately to our Master of Arms, Seo Changbin, who oversees the security of the fortress, the city below, and its people. That now includes you.”

The king gestured toward Changbin, whom Felix regarded with curiosity before turning back to the king and inclining his head in gratitude.

The king continued by introducing several key individuals gathered around the grand meeting table. Each person represented a distinct realm of expertise, from the intricate realms of Finance & Treasury, Health & Wellness, and International Affairs & Diplomacy, to the vital fields of Education & Human Development, the Justice System, and many more specialized disciplines. Their presence exuded an air of importance, the soft rustle of elegant garments and the quiet hum of anticipation palpable among the assembled advisors.

Once the introductions dwindled into a respectful silence, Minho took center stage to explain the pivotal role of Felix. He conveyed that having Felix present at discussions concerning the budding relationship with Felora—discussions that spanned trade routes, expanding communication networks, and building bridges of trust—was only natural. Felix was not merely an observer; he was the representative of the elven nation and the cornerstone of their new alliance. None in the room possessed a greater understanding of the customs and people of the elven realm than Prince Lee Felix. His active participation, brimming with insightful commentary at every turn, would undoubtedly steer the alliance toward success and ensure the enduring favor of the elves.

Minho then shifted the conversation to the unique characteristics of their surroundings. “It shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that it is incredibly difficult to cultivate anything on our terrain, aside from the hardy grasses native to Levanter,” he declared, his voice echoing slightly in the vast chamber. “All that rock, sand, and molten lava leaves little room for diverse growth. I’m sure you noticed upon your arrival that we reside within the largest volcano in the world, yes?” His words hung in the air, and he noted with a hint of amusement the way Felix’s brows furrowed in contemplation.

At that moment, Felix began tentatively, “If I may, Your Majesty—“ but his words were abruptly cut off by Hyunjin’s stern interruption.

“Don’t interrupt,” Hyunjin hissed quietly, a warning laced into his tone.

Yet, with a dismissive wave, Minho signaled Felix to carry on, his eyes bright with interest as he observed the foreign royal’s cautious demeanor.

Taking a moment to gather himself, Felix offered a gentle smile as he continued. “I had anticipated that the living conditions here within the castle would be... hot. Very hot. Yet, within these walls, the atmosphere is surprisingly cool.” He idly rubbed his upper arms, as if trying to reconcile the unexpected chill in the air with the sweltering conditions outside. His voice carried genuine curiosity, and his pretty features lit up with intrigue. “How is that possible?”

The king responded with a hearty laugh, clapping his hands in delight as if performing a favored trick. “Magic!” he exclaimed, punctuating his revelation with animated finger wiggles that injected a sense of childlike wonder into the room.

Hyunjin, however, maintained a more measured tone as he explained further while glancing at Felix with a tinge of boredom. “He’s being completely serious. There are layers of enchanted ice embedded within the very foundation and walls of this place, crafted to keep everything cool, even amidst the fiery tumult of the volcano.”

Felix murmured softly in awe, his eyes drifting around the vast room as he marveled at the intricate carvings that adorned the ancient ceiling stones, each chiseled detail telling its own hidden story.

The king then steered the discussion back to diplomatic matters. “Our dear Felix’s father, in a gesture of sincere gratitude for welcoming his son into our kingdom, has sent us a substantial supply of fruits and vegetables. This generosity provides us with nourishment that we simply cannot produce on our inhospitable land. I propose that we formalize this arrangement and commence biweekly deliveries every Friday, directly to our bustling main market square. Diplomacy department, please reach out and determine what they wish in exchange, and we shall make the necessary provisions. Understood?” His commanding tone left no room for doubt, and his main communications representative quickly nodded, fervently scribbling down every directive with feverish precision.

Shifting his focus, the king directed his attention to Hyunjin and Changbin. “Now, as for you two, do you have any insights as to why there were numerous orc sightings reported by the patrol last night? Given the season, such intrusions should be exceedingly rare.” His gaze alternated expectantly between the two men, each awaiting their cue.

Changbin crossed his arms thoughtfully, his expression serious as he ventured a suggestion. “Perhaps they could be fleeing from something—an unknown threat, maybe?”

Hyunjin, meanwhile, absently tapped his fingers against the tabletop. With a casual yet pointed inquiry, he asked, “Or would you like us to issue a kill-on-sight order?” His tone was measured, patient as he awaited further instructions from the king, the uncertainty of the situation reflected in his composed demeanor.

Minho pressed his lips together in a thoughtful frown, his mind abuzz with heavy contemplation. “No. Do not provoke them. Unless directly threatened, order your men not to interact. Increase patrols along the eastern perimeter where they've been spotted, but instruct your men to observe from a distance,” he finally decided, his deep voice resonating in the hushed room. Those present, tasked with coordinating the infantry on the ground, exchanged understanding nods as the weight of his words settled among them.

“Your Majesty,” began Jeongin slowly, his voice edged with hesitance as he stole a furtive glance toward the prince before turning his focused, steady eyes directly to the king. “If you recall, when I was younger, I had the chance to study these creatures closely, and may have a theory as to why orcs are now congregating near our borders,” the physician explained, his tone laced with a careful apprehension that made his every word seem laden with the tension of looming danger.

“Go on…” Minho encouraged, extending one arm wide in an inviting, yet cautious gesture.

“Actually, two theories,” Jeongin continued, his speech deliberate. “Orcs, by nature, are rather… mindless. They are irresistibly drawn to movement and the glimmer of bright objects, for their simple instincts barely extend beyond the needs of eating and mating.” His frank explanation elicited a series of low murmurs from several individuals seated close enough to capture his every word.

“Are you suggesting that the elf’s obnoxiously extravagant entourage may have inadvertently attracted them?” Hyunjin interjected, curiosity mingled with a trace of annoyance as he observed his brother’s features tighten with concern.

“Indeed, inadvertently—but yes, potentially so,” the doctor replied earnestly. “Consider those large, shiny carriages, drawn by magnificent white unicorns; they likely trailed the prince all the way from a forest lying between here and Felora. My second theory, which is intimately linked to this idea, concerns the prince himself,” he explained, pausing briefly as though seeking permission to divulge more.

“Scent,” Felix stated softly, his voice trembling slightly as he stared blankly into the distance, as if haunted by a terrible memory. There was a palpable distress in his tone. “Orcs are drawn to my scent.”

Hyunjin let out a short, amused huff at the startling declaration. “It’s not that great—”

In an instant, Felix whipped his head to face Hyunjin, fixing him with a severe, unamused glare that was so intense it seemed to freeze the air between them.

“Prince Felix is correct,” Jeongin confirmed, his voice carrying the calm authority needed to break the heavy stillness. When all eyes refocused on him, he cleared his throat delicately. “Though it is rare for them to actually procure one, an elf is considered the most coveted delicacy among orcs. They are capable of tracking an elf’s scent for over a dozen miles—a remarkable feat, especially since this scent eludes even the most discerning human nose.”

A few individuals grumbled derisively at the stark truth of this revelation.

Hyunjin, however, leaned back with an almost gleeful nonchalance as he quipped with a wry grin, “Great. We simply give them the elf. Problem solved.”

Felix flinched slightly, shock visibly etched across his face at the cavalier response. Having grown up in Felora, where bedtime stories painted orcs as hideous monsters lurking in the shadows—beasts that preyed upon unsuspecting innocents, feasting on them for breakfast—such a suggestion sent a chill down his spine. They were rigorously taught to avoid venturing outdoors alone, especially as dusk settled and fearsome creatures roamed freely beneath the cloak of darkness in search of blood and bones. The very notion of encountering such a beast was terrifying, even in the hard light of adulthood.

“Do you hold my kind so little in regard that you would prefer to offer me up as a sacrifice to such monsters rather than simply coexist with me?" Felix whispered sorrowfully, genuine hurt infusing every syllable as tears threatened to spill despite his efforts to remain composed.

“He didn’t mean it seriously. We would never do such a thing. He just has a way of spouting foolish remarks,” Changbin interjected in a gentle attempt at reassurance, his words finding agreement from everyone present with the sole exception of Felix, whose pain was palpable in the room.

Tears slowly trickled down Felix's flushed cheeks, despite his efforts to hide them. He frantically wiped away the wet streaks on his freckled skin, but the overwhelming emotions still made him sniffle audibly. Rising abruptly from his seat, he said, "May I be excused? I must return to my chambers as I am feeling quite unwell." He barely held back a sob while waiting for permission.

Minho nodded curtly and kindly bid the prince farewell. "Rest well. Jeongin can visit you after our meeting if you'd like. I hope to see you at our next gathering, and rest assured, Jinnie will behave more appropriately in the future." He tried to reassure Felix, missing how Hyunjin bristled at the suggestion beside him.

Once the heavy oak doors closed behind him, Felix heard muffled voices expressing their anger at Hyunjin's conduct during what should have been a courteous occasion. Though finding it somewhat amusing, he hurried towards Jisung’s bedroom, blinking rapidly to fight back tears that threatened to fall.

He managed to compose himself before reaching his advisor's quarters. Without bothering to knock, he opened the door to find his friend still curled up in bed where he had left him. The brunette wore a thick nightgown with a hood pulled down as far as it would go, almost hiding his entire face beneath the soft fabric.

Felix closed the door, slipped off his shoes, and climbed onto the plush bedding beside the sleeping figure without bothering to remove his lavish attire.

Jisung squirmed, then lifted the hood halfway to peer sleepily at Felix, drool smudging his lips.

"Eww," Felix joked with a playful gag as his friend yawned and rubbed his eyes.

Jisung lifted the covers just enough to fully take in his appearance, noting his attire with a sleepy glance. He pushed the hood completely away from his face, revealing his tousled, deep brown hair and a pout that was both endearing and a little sulky.

“You left me?” he mumbled groggily, his bottom lip protruding slightly as he stretched his arms overhead with a slow, languid motion.

Felix breathed sharply through his nose, a small, lopsided grin tugging at his lips. “Only for a bit. I did try to wake you to let you know I was borrowing some clothes and heading out, but you were dead to the world,” he replied warmly, chuckling when Jisung snorted tiredly and rolled onto his stomach to face him.

Jisung groaned petulantly at the admission, his voice tinged with exaggerated exasperation. “I’m telling you, there must have been some kind of magic in that man’s spend last night because I’ve never felt more relaxed in my life.”

Felix grimaced lightheartedly at the statement, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. “I wish I could say the same,” he admitted ruefully, a sad sigh escaping his lips as a shadow of melancholy settled over him.

“You wish you had magic cum in your ass?” Jisung teased mischievously, poking playfully at the side of Felix's body.

Felix grimaced again, the gesture now accompanied by a wholehearted chuckle that seemed to echo his conflicting emotions. “I wish I could say I’ve never been more relaxed,” he clarified, allowing the melancholy to settle deep within his gut, churning uncomfortably.

Jisung stared at him intently, concern etched across his delicate facial features, his eyes searching Felix’s for answers. “Talk to me, Lix,” he urged tenderly.

So Felix did. He recounted the entire event, each detail vivid and unfiltered, including the scathing comments and Hyunjin's humiliating suggestion to feed him to orcs in front of all the attendees. By the end of his recap, Jisung's expression had shifted to one of fierce indignation, his eyes blazing with protective anger.

“Have you tried punching him in the face yet? Because honestly, I support it,” Jisung declared, his voice laced with sincerity and a hint of mischief.

Felix giggled quietly at the comment, seriously considering the suggestion before deciding to change the subject entirely.

“What do you think of His Majesty?” he asked thoughtfully, shifting closer to press his shoulder against Jisung’s body, seeking both comfort and connection.

Jisung felt a swarm of butterflies fluttering pleasantly throughout his tummy at the mention of the subject of his all-night-long erotic encounter, yet he tried to keep his excitement under wraps. "King Minho?" he asked hesitantly, hoping his voice didn't betray the giddiness threatening to spill over at the thought of the man who had rocked his world mere hours ago.

Felix nodded, his expression unreadable.

"He… I don’t know… he’s okay, I guess—"

"I think he is a serpent," Felix interjected flatly, his unexpected declaration startling Jisung immensely.

Jisung's eyebrows shot up comically, a bewildered expression settling on his face. "A snake? Like, you mean he's not to be trusted or…?" he asked incredulously, struggling to grasp Felix's meaning.

"No. I meant it literally. Have you noticed he never blinks?" Felix wondered aloud, his curiosity piqued.

Jisung sat up slightly, his brows knitting together in perplexity. His expression clearly showed how utterly puzzled he was by the implications of Felix's observation. "So your logical conclusion is that he is somehow secretly a snake shifter," Jisung stated dubiously, a hint of amusement underlying his tone.

"Did you know the king and commander were brothers?" Felix asked abruptly, shifting the conversation with surprising swiftness.

The brunette blinked owlishly, his mouth opening only for no words to emerge, as his mind went blank in an instant.

"At least the king referred to him as such, but I was not aware of this before today," Felix continued, oblivious to how completely speechless Jisung appeared, his sudden revelation leaving him stunned.

"D-Do they seem close, though, to you? Like brothers who tell each other everything?" Jisung stammered anxiously in reply, trying to wrap his head around the unexpected news.

Felix hummed thoughtfully, his mind whirring with considerations. “I’m not sure. They seem to be at odds, but not in a way that would start a civil war—more like on a personal level? Though, I suppose most siblings bicker from time to time.”

Jisung released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, sinking back into the plush comfort of the mattress. After a moment of contemplation, he turned his face towards Felix, his expression serious and intent.

"Alright... So... About last night… I need to confess—"

“I know, Ji," Felix interjected softly, his voice a gentle interruption. “I figured it out when I saw the marks on his wrist. I thought perhaps there are others who share your particular interests in the bedroom, but then I noticed your ‘signature’ marking on his clavicle. It still perplexes me how you manage to leave a bite in the shape of a J," Felix chuckled, shaking his head with a fond smile.

Jisung sputtered, his words a jumble of surprise. “Y-you aren’t upset with me?”

Felix fixed him with a pointed glare. “Oh, I’m furious. So much so that if I had the energy, I’d consider tossing you right out of that window over there for not being honest with me. But alas, I’m mentally exhausted.”

“It was an accident… no, not an accident… it was unplanned and rather out of the blue... it only happened once! Well... it only happened like, three times… but obviously only one night though... and it was a one-time thing! I swear!" Jisung stammered, his plea for understanding tumbling out rapidly, but he stopped short when he noticed Felix exaggeratedly cringing and covering his ears.

"Lixie, please don’t be mad at me." He coaxed softly, his voice a gentle plea. “We bumped into each other, and he came onto me, and he was so hot and sweet, and I just couldn’t resist—"

Felix waved off the apology, retreating under the covers with a bashful grin at his own curiosity. "Spare me the details, but answer one thing."

Jisung frowned, a hint of apprehension creeping into his expression. “What?”

"Does he also not blink during intercourse? If so, that must've been terrifying."

Jisung abruptly choked on his saliva, his eyes widening in surprise, as Felix's laughter resonated warmly from beneath his cozy blanket cocoon. Felix's chuckles were infectious, a deep, rolling sound that filled the room, while Jisung gasped and coughed beside him, his face flushing from the sudden onslaught.

"I mean… he does… just… not often," Jisung recollected with a dreamy wistfulness in his voice. His teeth caught his bottom lip in a moment of tentative hesitation before he continued, his eyes glinting with the memory. "Honestly, in the throes of passion, it feels rather intense being gazed at so devotedly by someone so handsome and powerful. It was… hot. And he knows exactly how to make love like— gods, you have no idea, Felix! The way his hips move should be forbidden, seriously—he knows how to maneuver them to reach places you didn't even know existed. Just when I thought it couldn’t get better, he would find another angle—it was pure magic—"

“Make it stoppp!!!” Felix whined, his voice dripping with melodrama as he covered his ears and tried to suppress a grin threatening to spread too wide across his face.

He understood that Jisung had every right to effusively praise the individual who had clearly made an indelible impression on him in the span of just one night. The way Jisung's eyes sparkled with excitement and his voice brimmed with enthusiasm painted a vivid picture of the profound impact this person had on him, leaving a lasting mark that was impossible to ignore.

Suddenly, Felix flung the blanket off his head, his eyes wide with faux conspiracy as he leaned closer to Jisung. "Wait… does he have hemipenes? Like a serpent?!" His voice was filled with playful enthusiasm.

Jisung burst into laughter, the sound ringing out like a joyous melody, his cackles wild and unrestrained. He responded breathlessly, "Has Levanter air tainted you already?!"

The two young men laughed freely, their laughter mingling and echoing through the room until their sides ached from the exertion.

Once the wave of exhaustion hit, Jisung offered his arms, and Felix happily accepted the warm comfort of snuggling close, the heavy satin of the blankets enveloping them both in a cocoon of warmth.

Sleep claimed them swiftly, their breathing synchronizing into a peaceful rhythm.

It wasn’t until the late afternoon that the pair finally stirred awake, groggy and disoriented, their mouths sticky with thirst, lips parched and throats dry, testament to the deep rest they had fallen into.

As if the sturdy wooden walls could eavesdrop on their innermost thoughts, a sharp, resounding rap echoed against the thick timber. The sudden sound made Felix jolt upright—his eyes snapping open, alert and searching—while Jisung, still adrift in a fog of sleep, blinked blearily and muttered a low, slurred “whashappening” as he fought against the weight of his heavy eyelids.

A refined voice, gentle yet insistent, called out from just beyond the door, “Lord Jisung, I am looking for Prince Felix. Do you happen to know of his whereabouts?” Felix immediately recognized the measured tone as that of Jeongin—the attentive physician from their earlier meeting.

Quietly, Felix nudged Jisung with his knee, hidden beneath the rumpled sheet draped over their lower halves. Jisung responded with a dismissive grunt and a casual swipe of his hand as he adjusted a pillow for more comfortable neck support.

Rolling his eyes in mild exasperation, Felix extricated himself from the warmth of the comforters with deliberate care, determined to appear both presentable and alert, as if he had not slept away half the day. Smoothing the wrinkles from his trousers, he edged quietly toward the door. With measured slowness, he opened it to reveal the anxious physician standing there, clutching a small leather bag tightly against his chest, his posture betraying both nervous tension and urgency.

“Prince Felix!” Jeongin exclaimed with an eager, slightly trembling cadence, bowing politely as he did so.

A soft giggle escaped Felix as he waved away the excess formality. “Just Felix, please,” he insisted gently, his kind smile warm enough to allay any lingering anxiety.

At this, the corners of Jeongin’s mouth twitched into an awkward, half-formed grin. Clearing his throat delicately, the doctor replied in a hushed tone, “Apologies for not tending to you first, Your Highness, but an urgent matter demanded my immediate attention.” With a brief, nervous glance over the dim corridor, Jeongin stepped several feet into the intimate space of Jisung’s chamber, and Felix closed the door behind him in silent accord.

“There is no need to address me as Your Highness,” Felix corrected lightly. “I relinquished that title long ago.”

A gentle flush of pink spread across Jeongin’s cheeks as he muttered, “My mistake, apologies.”

Sensing the doctor’s timidity, Felix instinctively reached out, placing a soft hand on Jeongin’s tense shoulder. “Don’t be troubled by formalities with me,” he murmured reassuringly.

From his spot on the bed, Jisung’s voice erupted irritably, still partly doused in sleep. “Who is it? Tell them to bring us food or be gone!” he demanded, his eyes remaining closed as he buried his face deeper into the inviting cushions.

Startled into proper posture by the rude command, Jeongin straightened abruptly; his cheeks burned an even deeper red as he glanced first at Jisung, whose robe slipped carelessly from one bare shoulder, then back at Felix, taking in the prince’s unkempt hair, wrinkled clothing, and unmistakable air of disarray. In that moment, his eyes widened with a dawning realization that chilled him, believing he had stumbled upon something irreverently inappropriate.

Before Jeongin could even process his alarm, Felix intercepted him. As soon as the doctor’s hand moved toward the door handle, Felix stepped forward swiftly, planting his back firmly against the solid door to block any escape.

Raising his palms in a tentative, calming gesture, Felix softly asserted, “Nothing has occurred here, I promise.”

“Please step aside! I swore to report any suspicious activity on your part— ah, damn!” Jeongin sputtered, cursing quietly at himself for the unguarded outburst.

Felix’s eyes narrowed dangerously, folding his arms across his chest. “To whom?” he demanded.

“That’s not important,” Jeongin stammered, his fingers nervously tugging at his earlobe. “What truly matters is that I honor my oaths and—”

“To. Whom?” Felix repeated authoritatively, his raised eyebrow challenging the silence that followed as Jeongin’s eyes darted around anxiously.

Finally, in a barely perceptible murmur, the doctor conceded, “Commander Hyunjin.”

A flash of understanding lit Felix’s features. “That self-centered imbecile has you spying on me?! Is that truly the reason for your visit?” he exclaimed, indignation and panic mingling as the notion of being surveilled prickled at his nerves.

Instantly, Jeongin shook his head, denying the accusation with fervor. “No! Not at all, Your High—uh, Felix! I swear!” he protested.

“Then why are you here?” Felix barked, his tone edged with impatience as his apprehension about being spied upon deepened.

“You mentioned feeling unwell earlier! I merely wished to see if there was anything I could do for you… as a physician…” Jeongin trailed off, uncertain and overwhelmed by the pressure of the moment.

At these words, Felix visibly relaxed—his tense frame softening as he slumped briefly, only then straightening up once he realized the poor doctor was evidently sincere in his concern.

Noting Jeongin’s uncomfortable fidgeting under his steady scrutiny, Felix sighed deeply and idly ran his fingers through his disheveled hair.

“I apologize if I seem hostile, but the truth is…I really don’t require a doctor. I simply claimed to feel unwell to escape humiliation. I chose instead to nap instead with my friend, Jisung, and only my friend…” Felix explained slowly, placing extra emphasis on the final phrase while shooting a firm, warning glare at the younger male. Then his features softened, and a warm smile emerged. “He’s like a brother to me. We grew up together; his mother served as a lady-in-waiting for my own, and he was born only a day before I was. I love him dearly, but our bond is purely platonic. Tell me, Doctor—do you not have a friend like that? Someone you cherish unconditionally, with whom you share an innocent closeness—a comforting embrace in times of need?”

Jeongin exhaled shakily, as though releasing pent-up tension, before averting his eyes bashfully. “Yes… a few, actually,” he admitted. “Here in Levanter, platonic bed-sharing is quite a custom, though I understand your homeland is far more reserved by nature so I just assumed... My nerves got the better of me, and I overreacted. I’m terribly sorry if my assumption has caused you any offense.”

"It’s okay," Felix assured with a gentle smile.

“Which reminds me!” With renewed determination, Jeongin straightened his posture and, with a glimmer of pride, produced his worn leather bag. After rummaging through its carefully arranged contents, he drew forth an intricately carved wooden unicorn, its delicate features revealed under the soft light, and extended it carefully towards the prince.

Felix regarded the delicate offering with skeptical curiosity. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked, furrowing his brow as he gingerly accepted the finely crafted figurine from Jeongin’s trembling hand.

“Commander Hyunjin oftentimes gets bored during finance discussions and either draws or carves trinkets to pass the time,” the doctor explained casually, a soft chuckle fluttering at the edge of his voice before he straightened up once more in formal decorum. “He told me to deliver this to you. I believe he feels some remorse for being such an asshole—” At once, Jeongin clamped his mouth shut in self-reproach for the unintended profanity. “Sorry, it just slipped out.”

A faint, amused smile curved at the corner of Felix’s lips as he examined the unicorn, its lavish details absorbing his attention. Amused, he noted how Jeongin, seemingly the only man in all of Levanter, felt compelled to watch his language in front of a newcomer from a foreign land, a quaint and almost charming display of courtesy in this rough kingdom.

"Rest assured, Doctor," he teased, "I don't insist on perfect manners in my presence. This is Levanter, after all—and no offense, but you've never been known for that."

Jeongin flashed a crooked grin, and Felix went on, "My friend Jisung has never been one for formalities or propriety." He gestured toward the person lying face down among a pile of plush pillows. "So I'm used to colorful language; what bothers me is excessive swearing or blatant rudeness directed at me personally. However, feel free to call the commander exactly what he is—a vile asshole."

Despite himself, Jeongin’s face broke into a wide, sheepish grin at Felix’s bold remark.

At that moment, Jisung stirred, lifting his head from the soft pile of pillows and blinking drowsily. “Lee Felix! Language!” he jested lightly, his tone drawing matching snickers from both Felix and Jeongin.

“As for this gift… how peculiar,” Felix mused to himself, absentmindedly tracing the intricate patterns etched along the unicorn’s elegant curves with his fingertip, his eyes carefully examining every detail before returning his focus to the inquisitive doctor.

Jeongin shrugged nonchalantly. “In truth, Hyunjin might be rough around the edges—especially to outsiders—but in Levanter, you won’t find a soul that speaks ill of him. Ask around! Of course, if there is anyone you’d want to avoid angering, it’s him. Beneath that brusque exterior, though, he is a good man with a compassionate, kind heart. And he’s incredibly artistic. I think sometimes, art such as carving these things is how he copes with stress and emotion.”

Felix arched an incredulous eyebrow as Jisung snorted derisively before lowering his chin back onto the plush cushion, surrendering to sleep once more.

“Oh, the commander has feelings beyond mere hatred and bitterness?” Felix remarked with sarcastic amusement, theatrically tossing the figurine from one hand to the other. His dismissive handling seemed to endeavor to erase any lingering image of its creator before he handed it back to Jeongin with cool indifference.

Though Felix of Felora had often gratefully accepted tokens of appeasement regardless of their giver’s manner, he was well aware that surviving in Levanter required a firm stance—a demonstration of strength that would not allow him to be trampled by manipulation, or by the whims of his own husband. He refused to yield to overt coercion.

Jeongin hesitated, his hand hovering mere inches from reclaiming the cherished token, before finally accepting it back with a note of disappointment.

“Tell Hwang Hyunjin no thanks,” Felix retorted curtly, folding his arms tightly across his chest. “A mere piece of carved wood cannot undo his inhumanity.” His tone was as dry as it was decisive.

“I don’t really think he was trying to— Never mind, I shouldn’t interfere—” Jeongin began, only to be abruptly cut off by Felix.

“Actually, Doctor, tell him that if he wishes for me to accept this gift, then perhaps he should grow a pair and find the courage to deliver it himself like a proper gentleman, rather than relying on others to clean up the mess his arrogance creates,” Felix declared coolly before turning on his heel. He walked back toward the bed where Jisung lay unmoving, though every subtle gesture betrayed his rapt attention.

For a moment, Jeongin stood dumbstruck, his expectations of meekness in a Feloran swiftly upended by the unexpected assertiveness of this elf—who, contrary to his assumptions, would not crumble at the slightest provocation. This defiant display was oddly intriguing. Perhaps it would upset the delicate balance anticipated by the council regarding the arranged marriage.

Settling himself beside his companion once more, Felix tugged the blankets high over his shoulder with a comfortable nonchalance before addressing the still-rigid doctor standing at the entrance one last time. “And what exactly does the new spouse of the entire Levanter’s commander have to do for food around here?” he inquired casually, stifling a yawn unsuccessfully behind his slender palm.

At these words, Jeongin’s demeanor brightened instantly—a sign that Felix was not about to dismiss or expel him outright, despite earlier tensions. Without hesitation, he cast aside all pretense, flung the door wide open, and poked his head out into the corridor. In an enthusiastic call to an unseen servant or maid somewhere down the hall, he announced that Prince Felix required sustenance immediately, before bidding his farewell with promises to visit again sometime.

Chapter Text

Felix and Jisung spent the entire day wrapped in a haze of lazy enjoyment—savoring sumptuous meals, lounging side by side in contented silence, engaging in fervent board game battles, and sharing endless streams of talk and laughter about every triviality and profound thought. Their time together summoned echoes of long-ago childhood days, when the world was simpler and both young men basked in happier times, untouched by the burdens and pains life would later impose.

As dusk melted into night and darkness draped the palace in a shroud of quiet mystery, an unrelenting anxiety crept over Felix. It was as if the opulent stone walls and unfamiliar faces conspired to remind him that he didn’t entirely belong among these aristocratic strangers, a fact underscored by the chilly reception that lingered in the air.

He knew that he was expected to sleep in Hyunjin’s room, yet there he remained, standing at the threshold of Jisung’s room. He was rooted to that doorway, immobilized by a paralyzing dread that made him feel like a statue trapped between two realms of security and danger.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Jisung asked, his voice a gentle reassurance aimed at diluting Felix’s spiral of anxious thoughts. However, Felix’s eyes betrayed his inner turmoil as they fired back a look of desperate dismay.

“Oh, I don't know,” Felix replied with a sardonic twist, his tone heavy with acerbic cynicism and dark humor creeping in. “Maybe I’ll be locked away in a closet again, forced to relieve myself on the floor again. Or perhaps I’ll be condemned to sleep on that unforgiving stone, only to have my throat sliced as I dream of life away from this hell. Or, even worse… I might find myself ensnared between silken sheets and heated skin, crying out in agony as I'm brutally exploited for his pleasure.”

The gravity of Felix’s words struck Jisung, whose concern propelled him forward in a swift dash. He seized Felix by the shoulder with a firm grip and spun him gently around so that their eyes met. Placing a tender yet determined hold on both sides of Felix’s face, he pleaded, “Do you not trust his word when he assured you that he wouldn’t—”

“No,” Felix cut him off immediately, his response devoid of hesitation or emotion, his voice a curt dismissal of all attempts at comfort.

With a deep, thoughtful sigh, Jisung shifted his reassuring squeeze to a gentle massage on Felix’s shoulders, trying to melt away some of that icy fear. “Given what you’ve witnessed today, do you truly believe that Minho would permit such an atrocity? Would he really allow Hyunjin to inflict harm on you?”

Even in the midst of their heavy conversation, Jisung glimpsed a fleeting spark of amusement in Felix’s eyes—a mirthful glint that contrasted sharply with the somber mood tinting the room.

“You lie with the king once, and you’re already referring to him so casually?” Felix mused with a light-hearted chuckle, attempting to ease the tension. “You’ve always seen the brighter side of things, Ji. But let me remind you—you don’t know the king any more than I know the commander.”

“Exactly!” Jisung exclaimed earnestly, as though that single affirmation could dispel the lingering shadows of doubt. He allowed his hands to slowly drop from Felix as the latter drew in a heavy, steadying breath, gathering his scattered nerves. “You really don’t know Hyunjin. Yes, he’s a callous asshole, but maybe, just maybe, Jeongin is right—that his cruelty is merely a fortress he’s built around himself. I know it’s asking a lot, but give him a chance… We’re here to stay regardless. Time might mend these harsh beginnings, and perhaps eventually, you could even possibly be friends.”

Felix chewed his lip in contemplation before Jisung crossed his arms petulantly and added with pride laced throughout. "And I'll have you know that, yes, I do know Minho better than you know your own husband. I 'know' him very well, thank you—"

"Don’t say it like that! Ugh!" Felix complained playfully, nudging his friend in the stomach affectionately, but Jisung didn't relent.

"I mean, I've had his balls in my mouth and his tongue in my—"

"Nope!" Felix swiftly decided to exit the room upon realizing that nothing he said would deter Jisung from sharing his risqué stories, so the blonde elf hurriedly made his way down the hall to get away.

"Maybe that's something you should try with your husband!" Jisung called out playfully, his voice resonating through the hallway as he stood in the center, amused by how Felix's pace quickened.

"What should he try with his husband?" A familiar voice asked curiously from behind, startling Jisung. He spun around in surprise to see the king himself standing there.

Jisung felt his cheeks flush instantly, turning bright red at the sight of Minho in casual nightwear—a loose linen tunic revealing much of his toned torso and fitted trousers hanging low on his hips. His impish smirk suggested he had heard everything just moments before his sudden appearance.

"Your Majesty," Jisung bowed deeply out of instinct, but the King gently lifted him upright by the chin with a single finger, sending an uncontrollable shiver through Jisung as warmth spread through his body.

"Minho," the king corrected softly, his hand dropping gracefully while maintaining intense eye contact, making butterflies flutter in Jisung's stomach. The feeling intensified when the king smiled warmly at him, making Jisung's pulse race. "You look—"

"I know— awful. Felix and I spent most of the day simply lazing about. I realize it's not exactly proper to be so casual, but—" Jisung trailed off, his fingers nervously running through his tangled dark hair that fell carelessly around his face as if he were subconsciously fluffing them.

"I was about to say radiant," Minho replied in a gentle tone with a crooked smile, making Jisung’s stomach flip at the tender compliment.

Jisung couldn’t help but wonder how he had stumbled into this situation. He had only moved here to accompany his prince and lifelong friend and serve as his advisor, yet now he found himself the subject of intense scrutiny by the formidable and fearsome ruler of the country. Even though he knew almost nothing about him aside from the fact that he was a soft, considerate lover, there was something oddly mesmerizing about having someone’s undivided attention, especially when that attention came from a sovereign endowed with real power.

He couldn’t deny the attraction, yet that didn’t alter his resolve regarding the outcome of this debacle. They had shared a one-night stand. That was all there was to it. Even if he had climaxed three times and the memory of that passion would haunt him during the most mundane moments, it ultimately mattered little.

"Thank you," Jisung said sheepishly, managing a smile that tried to mask the unease he felt. He silently wished he’d chosen less rumpled clothes and presented himself more neatly before running into Minho. "I was just about to take a shower and head to bed."

The king nodded thoughtfully, then replied without missing a beat, "May I join you?" His tone held a curious edge.

Jisung reacted with an audible hesitation. His first instinct was to decline such a daring request outright, despite an inner part of him yearning for it fiercely. Things were much simpler when wine loosened his inhibitions, but now, with a clear head, his emotions tangled as the king’s unwavering eye contact made his heart race, as though every hidden thought was being laid bare.

"Don't be ridiculous," Jisung immediately countered, though his heart clenched at the sharpness of his refusal. "Last night was merely a momentary lapse in judgment brought on by extraordinary circumstances. It can never happen again."

Jisung was already feeling the pain of having to turn down someone as stunning as the king, who clearly had an interest in him, at least physically. The look of hurt on that handsome face only deepened Jisung's heartache.

Trying to justify his decision to both himself and the king standing in front of him, he spoke seriously, "You are the King of Levanter, and I'm just a mere half-Feloran bastard, fortunate enough to be born from one of the Queen of Felora’s closest companions. I'm here for Felix. If we start meeting frequently, the castle's residents might notice, leading to whispers and a flood of rumors about inappropriate conduct, secret affairs, and scandalous liaisons. This could endanger Felix’s safety and comfort here, and wouldn't it also threaten your standing and credibility with your people?"

Minho observed quietly, waiting for Jisung to finish his rejection before interjecting directly. "You're not very familiar with Levanter yet, are you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he noticed Jisung's expression shift to confusion.

"Well, we’ve only been here for two days, so I guess—ahhhh! What are you doing?!" Jisung exclaimed, his voice tinged with surprise as Minho, with an unexpected swiftness, effortlessly swept him off his feet. Cradling Jisung securely against his chest, Minho stepped into Jisung’s room with determined strides, the door swinging shut behind them with a gentle kick before he carried Jisung across the room, heading unerringly toward the bed on the other side. There, with a tenderness that belied his strength, Minho carefully laid Jisung down on the plush bed.

Jisung lay still, his body rigid with surprise, eyes wide as saucers as he stared at the king with a mixture of confusion and uncertainty. "Wha-what are you doing?" he stuttered, his voice a whisper of nerves as he tried to steady the fierce drumming of his heart against his ribs.

Frozen in place, he watched as Minho deftly removed his boots, the soft thud of leather on wood echoing in the quiet room. Then, with a fluid grace, Minho climbed onto the mattress beside him. "Are you seriously about to—" Jisung began, his words tinged with anxious anticipation, only to cut himself off as Minho simply reclined next to him. Minho's hands rested casually on his stomach, ankles crossed, his gaze wandering to the ceiling with a serene contentment. After a beat, his head turned, his eyes meeting Jisung's large, brown ones, a gaze filled with both expectancy and unease.

For a heartbeat or two, time seemed to pause. Neither moved nor uttered a word; they simply locked eyes, the air between them charged with an unspoken connection, a fleeting moment of intimacy that lingered like the last notes of a soft melody. Finally, the tension-laden silence gave way.

"I'm a bastard as well, you know," Minho remarked, his tone deceptively casual, yet the gravity of his words hung heavily in the air. His eyes held Jisung's with an unwavering intensity, a silent storm gathering within their depths. The statement shattered the fragile moment between them, prompting Jisung to break the gaze abruptly, his face turning toward the ceiling. He exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, his chest rising and falling as he squeezed his eyes shut, as if that could blot out the encroaching reality that loomed over them.

"If you think lying is going to get you into my pants again, I must inform you that it absolutely will not," Jisung affirmed awkwardly, his voice tinged with a nervous edge. "You’re a king. Surely you can find somebody willing and eager to please, unlike myself tonight, who has no interest whatsoever..." He paused dramatically, his words hanging in the air as though he expected a retort from Minho. But the silence stretched on, compelling Jisung to speak again, more tentatively this time. "Hello? Seriously, why are you still here?"

"To talk," Minho replied swiftly, his answer delivered with such immediacy and lack of hesitation that it startled Jisung. The abruptness caused him to sit up halfway, his gaze dropping to the older male beside him, whose eyes remained fixated on him with an unblinking resolve.

"Talk?" Jisung echoed, his voice laced with skepticism as he searched Minho's expression for clues.

Minho nodded curtly, a small, encouraging smile flitting briefly across his lips.

"About what? Why couldn’t we talk tomorrow somewhere less... intimate?" Jisung questioned, his brow furrowing in confusion, urging Minho to elaborate on the topic that was now the centerpiece of their unexpected conversation.

"Because I want to talk about something intimate," Minho answered flatly, his words cutting through the air and earning a perplexed glare from Jisung, who furrowed his brow further, silently urging Minho to shed more light on the matter at hand.

"You haven’t even so much as ventured beyond the walls since your arrival, so I wouldn’t expect you to know much about the kingdom that is now your home," Minho admitted softly. His voice was a gentle whisper that seemed to float through the room as he turned his gaze upwards to the intricately carved ceiling before closing his eyes. "But I feel I should inform you before you make a fool of yourself. Levanter is far different than any other region when it comes to its customs and social norms. Perhaps it’s why we are looked down upon elsewhere... The majority of citizens here are unconcerned with matters relating to social hierarchy or even gender roles. Free love isn’t frowned upon; quite the opposite, actually. My mother was an exceptional shield maiden, probably the best warrior Levanter has seen in many generations," he mused with a touch of pride coloring his words.

Jisung found himself genuinely curious about where this conversation was headed. He lay back against the plush cushions, sinking comfortably into their embrace, his eyes staring blankly ahead while listening intently to Minho’s continued revelations beside him.

"She was elected queen by the people during a tumultuous war after the king had fallen on the battlefield. They weren’t related at all. We primarily practice democracy here, which might seem radical, but our laws dictate that no person should rule supreme above the rest unless they earn their crown rather than inherit it solely based on family bloodline. During her reign as leader, she chose another warrior, one with no noble lineage, as her lover. They didn’t wed because neither found it necessary, content in their happiness without the need for ceremonial bindings. People didn’t care, regardless. When she was pregnant with me, he died in battle protecting Levanter. So, yes, I am technically a bastard. She even had several lovers and children following. Yet again, the people of Levanter aren’t as judgmental regarding those things as others are. No one cared because love means many different things to each individual.” Minho turned to lock eyes briefly with Jisung, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them before he added, "I’m not worried about my people looking down on me for being with a man I'm not married to, and even if they do, it shouldn't cause any harm."

Jisung wasn’t sure exactly how to react to that information regarding the political situation within a society that apparently differed vastly from Felora. The weight of Minho’s words hung in the air, thick with implications and possibilities.

“So Commander Hyunjin is also a bastard? And of an entirely different sire than yourself?” He guessed cautiously, hoping he hadn't completely missed the meaning entirely.

Jisung was certain Felix’s parents and council were not aware of this complex political structure when they sent Felix as a spouse in a diplomatic union.

Minho chuckled softly, shaking his head slightly against the pillows beneath him. "Hyunjin and I aren't related by blood at all."

"But... Felix said you referred to him as your brother?" Jisung mused aloud, more to himself than expecting a direct answer.

"A huge and very territorial dragon decided to make its nest at the mountain's peak for a season. Usually, there was an understanding between dragons and the people of Levanter: 'you don’t fuck with me, I don’t fuck with you.' But this one was particularly vicious, attacking and feasting on anyone and anything it could get its claws on," Minho explained casually, inspecting his fingernails. "When the dragon went into hibernation, Mother climbed up to the volcano's summit and entered its lair. She killed the dragon to protect the people. She got some gnarly scars in the process. There were two eggs, but she left them to hatch, hoping they'd maintain the longstanding peace between the local wildlife and our kingdom. Before leaving, though, she noticed the dragon's wing twitch, so she checked to ensure it was dead and discovered a human child hiding under the wing, clinging to the dead dragon in fear. The child couldn't have been older than four or five. It was covered in every disgusting substance you can imagine, unbathed, unclothed, scrawny, and acted as though it had never laid eyes on another human being before. Mother assumed the dragon had recently taken the child from some place, perhaps due to maternal instinct, and that the child was just frightened by the trauma, so she tried to comfort it, but the little guy quite literally attacked like an animal and bit her so fiercely, it tore through muscle," he laughed dryly, absentmindedly running his fingers through his black hair.

"Still, she managed to wrestle the little beast-child back here and took him in as her own. That child is now known to you as Hwang Hyunjin."

Jisung sat quietly, absorbing every detail his companion shared, filled with wonder and disbelief. "Why give him the family name Hwang?" he wondered aloud.

Minho shrugged casually before answering, "We all took our fathers' family names, but who knows who his parents truly are, or if he even has any? So, she gave him the name Hwang, after the sulfuric lair where she found him."

"If he has parents at all?" Jisung repeated incredulously.

The king shrugged again, unbothered. "It was clear he had been with the dragon dame for quite some time. Living with that wild little creature was a nightmare for a long time. But she never gave up on him. Through her patience and persistence, she managed to tame him well enough, but life hasn't been easy for him even now," he sighed wistfully, glancing at Jisung to gauge his reaction before continuing. "As a child, he was often teased for acting like an animal and was the target of childhood games like 'slay the dragon.' Adolescence wasn’t much easier for him either; hormones raging wild and confused with no direction whatsoever, and struggling to control instincts he barely understood, let alone managed successfully without frequent bursts of violent rage. He would often isolate himself because he didn’t feel as though he belonged anywhere. It got better with growth and what I hope is the support of those who love him, but I fear there’s always an underlying insecurity that rears its ugly head whenever he feels threatened or challenged in any way. Don't get me wrong, it makes for one hell of a soldier on the field; possibly the only one to come close to Mother’s legacy and reputation. But sometimes… it frightens me."

The confession drew a solemn frown across Jisung’s face as thoughts churned in his mind—perhaps there was more to the commander than he had ever imagined. “It frightens me, not for my own sake but for him,” Minho said in a low, gravely emotional tone, his hand absently rubbing the inflamed corners of his eyes where tears threatened to spill over. “He lashes out in anger and punishes himself endlessly. If one day his short fuse sparks a catastrophic flame, I fear he will never forgive himself... and then what? I simply don’t know.” His voice wavered with the weight of his words. “It might sound like a tired cliché, but Hyunjin is truly lost. He has not yet discovered who or what he is—what he wants. Despite compensating with exceptional skill in his role as commander, at the end of the day, he is missing a core element crucial for ever achieving a sense of genuine content or lasting fulfillment. What that missing piece might be, I cannot say, but I doubt it can be found standing atop a mound of bloodied and charred corpses on a battlefield—even if he believes it to be so.”

In that moment, as Minho spoke of his sibling with such fervent tenderness, Jisung saw how deeply love shone through. Though they did not share the same blood, their years growing up side by side had forged a bond strong enough to weather even Hyunjin’s alleged outbursts.

Everything was almost too much to digest—especially when word reached him that the king was a bastard. In Felora, bastards were forbidden from sitting on the throne. In many kingdoms, those born of an illegitimate union were relegated to the shadows, denied recognition by society. Yet here in Levanter, it seemed these conventions mattered little. There was a bastard king of a promiscuous ruling over the land and a once-feral, orphaned commander of unknown lineage. Nothing added up.

What troubled him even more was the certainty that Felix and his parents must be entirely unaware of Hyunjin’s origins, for they would never condone an alliance with such a lowly-born man.

What puzzled Jisung the most, however, was how effortlessly Minho had unburdened his soul to him about such deeply personal matters, and all of this despite their relatively short acquaintance.

A heavy silence settled between them, thick and palpable, as neither dared break the stillness after such intimate revelations. Finally, Jisung was the first to speak, his voice tentative as he disturbed the hushed atmosphere.

“I am a Feloran who resided within the palace since birth alongside the prince and his family. Less than a moon ago, Felora was, to Levanter, a rival kingdom. You have just revealed to me a wealth of vulnerabilities I could potentially exploit should the need arise. Does this trouble you in the slightest?”

A sly smirk played upon the King’s lips as he retorted with easy confidence, “Should I be concerned?”

At the sight of that crooked, devastatingly attractive grin, Jisung felt his heart skip a beat and couldn’t help the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yes,” he acknowledged almost timidly, eliciting a soft, mirthful chuckle from the man beside him. “Anyone with half a brain would worry about a foreigner possessing potentially damning information about their country’s commander.”

The monarch’s eyes twinkled as he mused thoughtfully, “Perhaps it’s the famed elven trickery I’ve been warned about—perhaps you’re weaving enchantments, using subtle magic to disarm my defenses by charming me senselessly, waiting for that perfect moment to strike.” His tone, light and teasing, offered little real threat, prompting Jisung to scoff theatrically while rolling his eyes with exaggerated disbelief.

“Oh, yes, elven glamour and seduction spells! That must be why Commander Hyunjin is so utterly smitten with Felix!” Jisung quipped with a sarcastic jab before lowering his voice to a quiet murmur. “You do know that is nothing more than a myth, don’t you?”

Minho looked thoughtfully at the ceiling before giving a silent nod. The room returned to quiet, giving Jisung a moment to ponder everything he had heard from Minho's viewpoint. So many questions remained unanswered, but he chose not to probe further or ask anything now. Minho had already shared more than Jisung expected, considering they were just acquaintances with a physical connection, so he knew not to overstep.

“Still, I wonder if there’s some truth to it now that I’ve met you,” Minho remarked with a touch of amusement, his gaze sweeping over Jisung’s body in a way that sent tingles through him before finally meeting his eyes.

A flush spread across Jisung's face as he bit his lip to suppress the growing desire, but it was too late. Summoning his courage, he offered a sultry smile and seductive look, sitting up cross-legged to face the attractive king lying peacefully.

“Do you really think I need magic or tricks to get you into bed?” Jisung purred in a low voice, placing a hand on Minho's clothed thigh, which tensed at the touch but didn’t move away. He teasingly traced his fingers along the muscular thigh, continuing with a provocative tone, “I'm quite offended by that. Perhaps you deserve a bit of punishment for such assumptions…”

A dark look settled over Minho's face, and a fiery desire blazed in his deep brown eyes, enveloping Jisung as they locked gazes intensely. “And how do you plan to do that?” Minho challenged, his entire being alive with excitement and anticipation.

Suddenly and without warning, Jisung swung his leg gracefully over his hips, his movements smooth and fluid, so that now he straddled them with a firm, unwavering hold while their gazes interlocked with an intensity that could melt ice. Minho lay beneath him, utterly still, his eyes wide and unblinking, filled with a mix of anticipation and curiosity about what the younger man intended to do next.

In that moment, a surge of boldness coursed through Jisung, magnifying his confidence tenfold. He began to lift his shirt, moving deliberately, exposing his bare torso inch by inch. The fabric slipped away from his skin, revealing the smooth expanse of his chest, which glowed under the dim light. With a casual flick, he tossed the shirt aside, never once breaking the intense eye contact with Minho. As if drawn by an irresistible magnetism, Minho's hands instinctively reached out, his palms eager to explore the bare flesh laid before him. But Jisung, with a quick and decisive motion, captured the wandering hands and pinned them above Minho's head, leaning forward until their chests hovered mere inches apart, their lips so tantalizingly close they could feel each other's breath.

“Do you really think you deserve to touch me after what you said?" Jisung cooed, his voice rich with sultry mischief, as he maintained his grip on both wrists with one hand. His free hand traced delicate, teasing patterns over the contours of Minho's bicep, each touch a whisper against his skin. The sight of Minho's adam's apple bobbing nervously brought a wicked delight to Jisung. "After all, this is supposed to be punishment, Your Majesty."

To drive his point home, he suddenly reached between them, his fingers deftly slipping past the waistband of Minho’s trousers. He seized the hardening member with a rough, possessive grip, sliding his fist along its length with torturous leisure, each stroke slow and deliberate. The sensation elicited delicious whimpers from Minho, who squirmed beneath him, weakly attempting to free his restrained wrists. Jisung's lips curled into a devious smirk as he leaned down, pressing his warm, moist tongue flat against Minho’s exposed neck. He trailed upwards, tracing the path of the throbbing pulse until he playfully nipped at Minho's earlobe. Then, his voice a seductive whisper, he breathed into Minho's ear, "Say please."

Minho quivered visibly against the sturdy bed frame beneath him, his body a taut bowstring of anticipation, but he complied with the command. "Please," he breathed out in a frantic whisper, his hips grinding upward in a desperate search for friction, as though trying to ignite a fire from a mere spark.

Jisung felt the throbbing pulse of Minho's desire between his fingers, a hungry rhythm that echoed the rapid beat of his own heart. A smug grin curled across Jisung's lips as he nuzzled against the king's smooth jawline, planting a series of tantalizing kisses that trailed along the sculpted edge of his jaw before finally pulling back just enough to lock eyes with the man beneath him. Their gazes met, a silent conversation simmering in the space between them.

"Louder," Jisung commanded, his voice a sharp whisper that sliced through the charged air. He tightened his grip around the sensitive flesh he held, eliciting strained gasps that spoke volumes of the tension coiling between them. "Tell me what you want," he added, his tone laced with wicked delight.

He anticipated a plea for mercy or a desperate cry for release, but Minho's response was a whisper that barely brushed the air. Yet, in those words, spoken with a raw intensity that pierced the silence, was a depth of emotion that transcended the moment. Dark, expressive eyes locked onto Jisung's, conveying a profound message that resonated far deeper than any simple request.

"I want to make love to you, Han Jisung," Minho confessed, his voice laden with emotion. The declaration hung in the air between them, a bridge of vulnerability. Without hesitation, Minho surged upward, capturing Jisung's waiting lips with a fervor born of desperation, akin to a parched man discovering an oasis.

Jisung's grip on Minho's wrists softened, the tension melting away like ice under a warm sun, allowing the elder to break free. Minho's arms encircled Jisung's waist, pulling him closer before deftly flipping their positions.

Now, Minho hovered above, looking down into Jisung's flushed face, eyes wide with awe and anticipation.

Without another word, Jisung crashed their mouths together, the force of their kiss a collision of raw, unrestrained desire. They groaned in unison, a symphony of blissful ecstasy. Their tongues tangled in an intimate dance, each movement fueled by a fiery passion that consumed them both, a hunger that Jisung had nearly deprived himself of this very night.

Minho swiftly pulled his shirt over his head, pausing to flash a captivating smile at the half-elven man who gazed up at him with loving eyes.

"You're interrupting my shower time," Jisung remarked breathlessly, a playful gleam in his eye.

Minho raised an eyebrow suggestively. "Should I leave then? Give you some privacy?" he teased, leaning down until their noses brushed lightly.

Jisung held his gaze, lifting his chin to rub their noses together affectionately, prompting a bright smile from Minho.

"Or maybe... you require some assistance?" Minho suggested rhetorically, planting a gentle kiss on the bridge of Jisung's nose.

His fingers wandered downward slowly, drawing intricate patterns over Jisung's toned abdomen with almost ticklish motions.

Jisung's muscles tensed instinctively, and he giggled loudly as warm breaths caressed his flushed cheeks.

"Enough teasing! Are you going to fuck me against the shower wall or not?" he asked playfully, arching his back into the firm chest above him.

With renewed determination glimmering in eyes darkened by desire, Minho slid his strong hands under Jisung's bottom, lifting him effortlessly as if he weighed nothing.

Jisung gasped in surprise as his arms and legs wrapped tightly around Minho, clinging to him as they moved towards the bathroom.

"I can walk, you know," Jisung said, trying to suppress his excited laughter.

"Mmm, not for long," Minho replied with confidence as they cautiously crossed into the bathroom.

If Jisung hadn't been aroused before, he certainly was now after hearing that provocative threat in his ear.

Chapter Text

Felix stood rigid as a statue outside the heavy, timeworn door to the shared chamber, his breath coming in measured, tremulous puffs as he tried to steady his racing heart before spending a night with Hyunjin. The corridor was dimly lit by flickering torches, their uncertain light dancing along the stone walls and casting elongated shadows that seemed to mirror his inner turmoil. He weighed his options in the dark chamber of his mind: should he knock softly, risking the disturbance of a potentially sound-sleeping occupant, or silently slip inside, as a ghost, into the room that was as much his as it was his new husband’s? His body was caught in the shackles of indecision, paralyzed by the overwhelming dread of choosing a course of action that might provoke his husband’s ire.

In truth, Felix longed to avoid any contact. The mere thought of seeing or speaking to Hyunjin filled him with a revulsion so deep that he wished their paths would never cross again. Yet fate had conspired against him, leaving no option but to face the man whose presence loomed as a constant, unwelcome reminder of his recent vows.

At that moment, deep within the room, a guttural grunt echoed off the wooden panels—a sound that was quickly followed by another, even more forceful, and a series of rustlings that hinted at clandestine, fervid activities taking place just beyond the solid barrier.

Felix’s veins seemed to run cold as he imagined what might be unfolding, and with each reverberation, his heart pounded louder, as if trying to escape the oppressive weight of the moment.

A shock overcame him as he realized with mounting horror that his new husband had likely invited another into their shared chambers only a night following their wedding. Blood seemed to drain from his limbs, leaving him feeling as if he were nothing more than a living corpse. There was no logical explanation for the furious, almost primal indignation he now felt at such insolence. It was as though the sheer audacity of Hyunjin's actions cut into him deeper than any physical wound. One part of him might have secretly rejoiced at the thought of evading intimacy, yet another found itself burning with an inexplicable fury.

Before he could wrest control of his body entirely, his right arm moved of its own accord, rising to grasp the cold iron knob as he swung the door open in one swift, unannounced motion. The sudden intrusion snapped several pairs of eyes toward him, shattering his trancelike hesitance. What he beheld defied every expectation and plunged him into a scene reminiscent of a macabre painting.

The room was bathed in an unnaturally bright light that emanated from crystalline formations running along the ceiling. Unlike the dim, flickering torches of the corridor, these luminous stones cast a steady, almost harsh light throughout the chamber, revealing every detail of the scene before him.

Inside, two robust guards held down a struggling Hyunjin face down on the broad, rumpled bed. The sheets were stained with fresh blood that pooled beneath the commander’s form. Each guard’s powerful arm was wrapped tightly around Hyunjin’s shoulders, pinning him prone with an almost inhuman strength. Flanked by an elderly woman with eyes heavy with unshed sorrow and a young, a determined Jeongin maneuvered an ominous metal tool that was pressed deep into a ragged wound that split open the commander’s lower back. Crimson rivers flowed freely, soaking the pristine fabric of the linens into a grotesque tapestry that stirred a nauseating churn within Felix’s stomach.

Caught between the compulsion to flee and the need to act, Felix hesitated uncertainly, torn by the horror of witnessing what unmistakably looked like an act of torture.

“It’s not safe for you here, Felix,” Jeongin said in a firm, no-nonsense tone as he noticed the terror etched across Felix’s face. Even as he spoke, his hands were busy carefully extracting something from inside the opened wound, but his words offered no comfort to Felix’s pounding heart.

The commander's agonized cry of pain, punctuated by a fresh surge of scarlet that oozed almost instantaneously, compelled Felix to dash forward. His steps were frantic, pushing past the other onlookers, presumably assistants of the doctor, in the spacious room that now felt cramped, as he reached the suffering Hyunjin with a mix of empathy and disbelief that overrode his earlier revulsion. In a moment that defied the expectations of someone in Felix’s bitter state, the sight of Hyunjin’s pained distress awakened a genuine compassion even as disdain and anger still simmered beneath the surface.

“What are you doing?!” Jeongin demanded as Felix crawled onto the bed beside the convulsing commander. Hyunjin, now utterly dejected, met each wave of agony with guttural cries and desperate, ragged breaths, his fingers clenching the pillow as if seeking solace.

In that charged moment, Felix’s fierce, challenging glare silenced the actions of the others.

Felix carefully maneuvered to lie beside Hyunjin, doing his best despite the firm grips of the guards restraining the commander. His palm settled gently on Hyunjin's back, nestled between the quivering ridges of his shoulder blades, slick with the sheen of sweat. The tension in Hyunjin's muscles was palpable, almost vibrating beneath Felix's touch, a testament to the strain of the moment.

The intensity of Hyunjin’s burning skin startled him as a searing heat radiated beneath his touch. Yet, he held his position steadfastly despite the physical discomfort provoked by the intensity of the heat. The commander convulsed violently, his snarls of defiance intermingling with the red-tinted saliva that trickled onto the spattered pillowcase. Droplets of blood speckled Felix’s face, the stark contrast against his freckles adding to the grotesque visual, while everyone present tensed, collectively holding their breath as Felix’s voice cut through the chaos.

“Hyunjin. Look at me,” he commanded, his tone both firm and strangely intimate. His piercing gaze locked with Hyunjin’s dark, tumultuous eyes that, despite their menace, betrayed a deep-seated vulnerability as if urging Felix to see the suffering beneath the ferocity.

“Gah—Ugh! Go to h-hell, elf! Don't tell me wh-what to do!” the commander growled, his voice strained yet dripping with venom. Even so, his rebellious gaze betrayed an uncanny submission as he found himself unable to resist Felix’s unwavering command.

At that precise moment, a soft emerald glow emanated from Felix’s eyes, casting a mysterious, luminescent haze upon Hyunjin’s complexion. Slowly, imperceptibly, the tension in the commander’s muscles began to ebb, leaving him nearly limp, as if succumbing to a mesmerizing, otherworldly trance. A collective gasp swept through the room as everyone realized that Felix had harnessed elven magic to subdue Hyunjin.

The two guards, caught off guard by this display, abruptly weakened their iron grips and drew their swords, pointing them with a mix of apprehension and duty at Felix. The elderly woman beside Jeongin looked on in horror, her eyes wide with disbelief, while Jeongin himself felt a surge of panic—old fears of elven sorcery that haunted his childhood whispered into his mind. Still, his friend’s life, fragile and exposed before him, demanded he see the task through, especially when orders from the king expressly forbade any harm towards an elf.

Desperation mingled with determination as Jeongin, swallowing his own terror, challenged the guards. The day before, many guests had merely observed a wedding, blissfully unaware of the tension simmering beneath the surface. He seized this opportunity with ruthless cunning, exploiting the ignorance of those who didn't know about the seething animosity between Hyunjin and Felix.

“How exactly do you think the commander will react when he claws his way back from the brink of death, only to discover his men have brutally murdered his new husband without a shred of remorse?” he thundered, his voice echoing powerfully within the chamber. “Use your brains for once! We’ve got this under control! Stand down, and take your post!”

To Felix’s astonishment, while his gaze remained fixed on the hypnotized Hyunjin, the guards grudgingly lowered their weapons and bowed curtly to Jeongin before retreating out of sight, leaving the room shrouded once again in an uneasy silence.

A bead of sweat meandered down Felix’s temple—a silent testimony to the strain of wielding such potent magic. Jeongin, noticing this, steeled himself and refocused solely on saving Hyunjin’s life, mentally preparing for whatever the morrow might bring.

“There’s only one piece left, but it’s lodged deep. How long can you keep him like this?" Jeongin asked anxiously, urgency lacing his tone as he inspected the precarious state of their comrade.

Felix’s gaze never wavered from Hyunjin, whose eyes remained wide and unfocused, trapped in a trance-like state. After an agonizing pause, Felix replied in a voice threaded with unyielding resolve, “As long as I must.”

Though Jeongin’s heart wavered with doubt, he nodded and dipped the instrument into the malevolent void of the wound one final time. With meticulous care, he rotated the tool in slow, cautious circles around the foreign object embedded within the gash, ensuring not to disturb anything vital until, at last, he encountered a subtle shift—a soft, resolute clink as he liberated the final fragment.

“Found it,” Jeongin murmured, his voice trembling with equal parts relief and caution. “We must keep him still…or outcomes could be catastrophic.”

In the midst of this, Hyunjin rasped weakly, “Felix…” His voice was barely audible, his dark eyes dilated in a mix of pain and a hint of recognition.

A gentle smile, like the first ray of dawn breaking through a stormy night, tugged at Felix’s lips at the sound of his actual name—a moment of fragile connection that momentarily softened the severity of the situation.

“Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?" Felix teased softly, provoking the faintest, almost imperceptible grin from the suffering commander, who now lay motionless save for the shallow, pained breaths that escaped him.

“Hurts,” Hyunjin whispered pitifully as a solitary tear traced a quiet path down his bruised cheek, vanishing instantly into the delicate fabric of the bloodstained sheets. The simple admission struck Felix deep within, stirring a torrent of conflicted emotions—a silent realization that beneath the hardened exterior lay a man capable of pain just as any other human. It was a stark reminder that even the most formidable, crass warriors carried their own burdens of pain and vulnerability, a truth that both humbled and tormented Felix.

Yet, swallowing his own surge of emotion, he pressed on, his eyes still blazing with supernatural emerald light as he continued to focus on the task at hand. “I know, but I’m here. I’m making it hurt less...okay?” he soothed, his thumb instinctively stroking the exposed, mottled skin of Hyunjin’s forearm with tender determination.

Jeongin briefly glanced up, scrutinizing Hyunjin to ensure the elven magic held him firmly in its thrall, only to catch sight of blood streaming rapidly from Felix’s nostrils. A grimace marred the handsome features of the elf, revealing a man pushed to his physical limits.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Jeongin extracted the remaining fragment lodged deep within the commander’s back, wiping away the excess blood that gushed forth before checking Hyunjin’s vital signs. Remarkably, despite the heavy blood loss, Hyunjin’s system functioned with an uncanny resilience, his body seemingly maintained by the stabilizing influence of Felix’s potent magic.

The suturing process was painstakingly tedious, each stitch a testament to Felix’s unwavering commitment.

Even as blood continued to seep from his nose and ears, Felix refused to relinquish control over the delicate procedure.

“With stable vitals and the tooth extracted, I can now sedate him for rest, Felix,” Jeongin announced quietly, preparing a syringe loaded with a potent serum that would induce a deep, comatose sleep.

“I won’t release him until he’s completely unconscious and incapable of feeling anything,” Felix replied gruffly, his voice strained by the physical and emotional toll that the ordeal had extracted from him.

With a final, shuddering breath, Jeongin administered the injection directly into Hyunjin’s neck.

“Sleep well, Commander,” Felix murmured warmly, his tone belying the immense discomfort etched into every line of his face.

As the last spark of resistance faded from Hyunjin’s eyes and they slipped shut like heavy drapes at the end of a sorrowful play, Felix’s own eyes dimmed, the emerald glow softening as his eyelids fluttered closed in exhaustion. A deep, trembling groan escaped his lips before he too succumbed to a heavy, burdened sleep.

For several long, suspended moments, Jeongin stood frozen in the aftermath, his mind reeling from the cascade of events—the surreal blend of magic, blood, and raw human emotion that had unfolded before him.

“What the fuck?” he muttered inaudibly, his gaze fixed on the two unconscious figures lying side by side on the shared, blood-stained bed, oblivious to the grim carnage that marked the scene.

While Hyunjin might have grown accustomed to the brutal realities of duty, Felix—a Feloran prince—clearly had not envisioned such a nightmarish tableau.

The room resembled a massacre, its filth and gore screaming for immediate cleanup. Thankfully, Jeongin’s trusted assistant noticed the mounting chaos as well; she promptly called out to the remaining guards, her voice urgent as they moved swiftly to secure and cleanse the chamber of its grim stains.

The chamber resembled a battlefield aftermath, a macabre scene that demanded immediate attention. Fortunately, his trusted assistant was quick to act, summoning the nearby guards to aid in a swift, though somber, cleanup of the grisly mess left behind.

Chapter Text

“You’re going to have my circadian rhythm all messed up if you insist on keeping me awake every night," Jisung quipped with a playful lilt, reclining against the pillows stacked comfortably against the headboard. A mischievous twinkle danced in his eyes as he leisurely popped another grape into his mouth, savoring the burst of sweetness.

Minho lay sprawled beside him on the mattress, grinning broadly with amusement. His eyes, a deep shade of rich chocolate, sparkled with affection as he watched the younger man chew thoughtfully. With a playful gesture, Jisung offered a grape to Minho, who accepted with enthusiasm. He opened his mouth wide, engulfing Jisung’s fingers along with the juicy fruit, a mischievous glint lighting up his gaze.

"I didn’t hear any complaints earlier," Minho retorted with a cocky tone, chewing loudly and earning a cascade of giggles from Jisung.

“It’s hard to complain with a cock down my throat,” Jisung replied bluntly, a teasing edge to his voice that brought a rosy blush to Minho’s cheeks.

Jisung chuckled softly, amused by how Minho, who had just moments ago fucked him senselessly, could appear so bashful at the retort.

Rolling his eyes with affectionate exasperation, Minho wrapped his arms securely around one of Jisung’s thighs, planting a tender kiss atop the half-elf’s hipbone.

Jisung’s slender fingers wove through Minho’s damp ebony hair, each stroke tender and soothing. Minho sighed contentedly at the touch, nuzzling against Jisung’s thigh with the softness of a cat seeking affection.

Lifting his head slowly, Minho gazed into the honeyed depths of Jisung’s eyes, which dreamily watched over him. His fingertips traced delicate patterns over Jisung's toned abdomen, each ticklish stroke sending ripples of goosebumps across Jisung’s skin, a testament to the gentle dance of their shared intimacy.

"Seriously? Again?" Jisung scoffed with playful disbelief, his voice laced with teasing as Minho inched closer, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips, his intentions unmistakable in the hungry glint of his eyes. Without warning, the king deftly removed the tray perched precariously on Jisung's lap, setting it safely on the nearby nightstand. He then rolled onto his stomach, nestling between Jisung's parted thighs, a move that elicited a sharp intake of breath from the surprised advisor. Minho's forearms draped loosely around Jisung's slender waist, his lips brushing featherlight against the taut skin of his abdomen, teasingly tracing the dips of his well-defined adonis belt with a seductive flick of his tongue.

"Pretty please?" Minho pleaded, his voice tinged with faux innocence as he batted his eyelashes sweetly, a stark contrast to the lascivious acts he was moments away from committing.

Jisung chuckled heartily, lifting his chin with gentle affection and pressing a tender kiss to the tip of Minho's nose. "What would your subjects think if they saw you begging like a puppy for a Feloran bastard?" he mused dramatically, his words drawing raspy laughs from Minho, the vibrations deliciously resonating against Jisung's navel.

"Obviously, they’d care not that you’re a bastard but rather that you're half-elf. I thought they’d stone me in the city square when I announced Hyunjin’s engagement to Felix, and they nearly did," Minho replied earnestly, his gaze briefly lifting to convey the sincerity that shone brightly in his eyes. "But they came around. They trusted my mother, and they trust me. I hope I have not failed them by bringing you two here," he explained, concern sweeping across his features, beautifully leaving behind traces of worry, a stark contrast to the mischievous grinning man from moments before.

Jisung felt a pang stab viciously into his gut as he listened intently to his lover divulge the fears that plagued his mind, the weight of Minho's words settling heavily within him.

“Your mother…is she…” His voice trembled as a heavy dread wrapped around his chest, constricting his airways like a vise around his throat. “Dead?” he ventured, the word hanging dangerously in the air before he quickly refashioned it. “Oh no—she’s very much alive, though she remains a relentless thorn in my ass,” he declared with a wry, lighthearted chuckle that softened the edge of his tone, his wide smirk revealing a flash of his front teeth.

He went on with a measured ease, “She simply never leaves the confines of her chambers. That’s why she was absent at the wedding. I’ll take you to meet her sometime.” Minho’s words, laced with a mix of sincerity and playful mischief, slowly unravelled the knot of tension coiling inside Jisung. Yet, even as relief mingled with reluctance, the notion of entrusting a half-elf with the key to his mother’s private sanctuary left him both touched by affection and shadowed by apprehension. Jisung’s mind swirled with wonder—how did Levanter’s ruler uphold such unwavering trust, and was Minho’s confidence something exclusively saved for him?

Minho’s expression grew somber as he continued in a hushed tone. “I must warn you, though. These days, she can be as stoic as stone, and her disdain for elves burns hotter than any flame I’ve witnessed. It’s partly where Hyunjin gets his temperament, I suppose—along with a tangled skein of other circumstances, but that’s a story for another time. Often, though, she forgets the depth of her loathing; her final battle shattered her mind in a way, leaving her to sometimes recognize her own children, and other times, not. She holds conversations with ghosts on an ordinary day, fasts for weeks without clear reason, and dances with the dead in the still of night. Don’t ask me why—it’s a mystery we’ve learned to embrace as part of our duty to care for her in the same way she once cared for us. But I understand if you’d rather keep distance from her.”

A fleeting glimmer of sadness danced in Minho’s eyes, and in that moment, Jisung felt the weight of grief swell within him, a tide of empathy that threatened to break over his resolve. Swallowing hard to keep the welling emotion at bay, Jisung spoke cautiously. “Minho,” he began, his tone tentative as if stepping carefully on fragile ice.

Minho’s earnest gaze urged him silently on, his calm countenance belying the anxious storm rumbling in the depths of his stomach. Finally, with a steady breath and a comforting smile brightening his angelic face, Jisung declared, “I would love to meet her.” In that instant, any lingering doubts within Minho evaporated like mist in the morning sun.

Overcome by a sudden swell of emotion that had transformed a simple conversation into something profound, Minho moved closer and, with an urgency that transcended words, captured Jisung’s plump lips in a fervent, tender kiss—a kiss that conveyed the unsaid, the misunderstood, and the deep secrets of their intertwined hearts.

Jisung couldn’t help but notice the profound intensity and meaning woven into their exchanges; especially now, after hearing the vulnerability that lay hidden within Minho's voice whenever they broached topics close to his heart. A joyous grin unfurled across Jisung's face, followed by a breathy chuckle that spilled over his pillowy lips as Minho planted a series of delicate pecks along his jawline, showering him with adoration that Jisung felt he hardly deserved, yet greedily accepted nonetheless.

“But you know that means you’ll have to control yourself for longer than five minutes, right? As challenging as that might be for you..." Jisung teased playfully, his body squirming and laughter erupting as Minho nipped his neck with a playful vengeance.

The king halted his affectionate assault abruptly, gazing at Jisung with a thoughtful expression before shrugging nonchalantly. “You look better without clothes anyway," he purred, before fully pouncing and wrestling a cackling Jisung to lay flat beneath him.

“Okay! Okay!” Jisung giggled happily, trying weakly to escape the relentless assault targeting his sides, his body writhing helplessly in an attempt to buck his captor off, though entirely without success.

Minho paused briefly, allowing Jisung a moment of reprieve to catch his breath. “But only if you do all the work,” Jisung bargained playfully, feigning reluctance with his arms crossed.

Minho gazed down at the beautiful being lying beneath him, chuckling softly as he traced his knuckles tenderly across Jisung's full cheeks. His chest felt as if it might burst with emotion. If Jisung were to quite literally ask for the world in such a manner, Minho swore upon his life he would deliver it without hesitation. He would do anything.

“Be careful what you wish for, honey,” Minho warned sultrily, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and smacking the side of Jisung's bare bottom with a loud clap.

Jisung jumped, startled by the action, but the sting left behind was a newly discovered pleasurable sensation that made him feel incredibly aroused once more. He shrieked delightedly as his partner wasted no time in wrestling him and maneuvering him as he pleased until they were soon a tangle of breathless limbs, moving in a synchronized cadence that created passionate, harmonious music. It was a symphony composed entirely of moans, grunts, satisfied whimpers, and desperate cries that echoed throughout the spacious room, resonating pleasantly.

Chapter Text

“His Majesty isn’t in his chambers, Doctor!” the guard reported, his voice slicing through the air, leaving Jeongin momentarily paralyzed with shock.

“What do you mean he’s not in his chambers?! He’s always in his chambers at this time of night!" Jeongin exclaimed, disbelief dripping from each word as he fought to regain his breath. His heart thundered in his chest, sending waves of panic through his body that erupted into short, desperate gasps, each breath a struggle against the tightening grip of fear.

“Fuccckkk! Shit! FUCK!” he roared with raw intensity, yanking mercilessly at his hair while pacing feverishly across Hyunjin’s chambers, his footsteps a frantic staccato on the stone floor.

“What do we do?” a nurse whispered, her voice a barely audible tremor of uncertainty to her colleague who stood frozen beside her.

Jeongin whirled to face them, his mind sparking with a sudden, blinding clarity as if a switch had been flipped, flooding him with an urgent resolve.

“Fetch Seungmin. Now!” he barked with commanding authority, clapping his hands sharply like a gunshot echoing in the room.

The nurse nodded vigorously, adrenaline propelling her through the door and into the hallway, her feet pounding with purpose.

It was far from ideal, involving Kim Seungmin—someone he wished to avoid at all costs—but with the king's whereabouts a mystery within the castle's sprawling corridors, Jeongin knew they had no time for hesitation. If he wanted to save Hyunjin’s life, this was their only shot.

The nurse hammered frantically on the massive wooden barrier separating them from Seungmin, desperate for a swift response before time ran out. Each minute crawled by with agonizing slowness until, at last, Seungmin appeared, rubbing sleep from his eyes and yawning widely.

He wore a loose grey tunic haphazardly thrown over black linen pants that clung low on his hips, as if he’d dressed in a panicked haste. His hair jutted out in wild disarray, enhancing his overall disheveled look, yet doing nothing to obscure his striking beauty.

“Not interested,” he mumbled wearily, attempting to close the door until a hand lunged forward, slamming against the panel above the handle, holding it firm and preventing closure.

“Commander Hyunjin has lost a lot of blood and needs a transfusion stat, or else we may lose him. The king is nowhere to be found,” the nurse squeaked with urgency, jolting Seungmin into alertness.

“Shit,” he muttered sharply. “I’ll meet you on the terrace.”

Without waiting for more, she dashed away, vanishing towards Hyunjin's room.

Seungmin strode to the large chest in his room’s corner, kneeling to unfasten its rusty lock with mechanical precision. Inside lay an arsenal: twin blades designed ingeniously in scimitar style, and a crimson crossbow adorned with meticulously crafted gold etchings. He strapped on his custom obsidian armor pieces, securing the blades and slinging the crossbow across his back. Lastly, he retrieved his greatest weapon of all: a golden lyre, proudly nestled among his armaments.

Once fully equipped, he sprinted from his quarters with relentless urgency, racing towards the terrace atop the kingdom's highest tower, every fiber of his being ignited with a burning resolve.

Chapter Text

Upon arriving on the scene, his gaze locked instantly on the cluster of guards and nurses, their faces strained with urgency as they desperately carried Hyunjin's motionless form. They laid him gently on a makeshift pallet, a feeble attempt at comfort as life seemed to hang precariously by a thread.

Seungmin's eyes darted past the guards to find Jeongin's frantic gaze already fixed on him, a silent plea evident in the doctor's wide eyes. A terse nod passed between them—acknowledgment without warmth, necessity without pleasantry. Now wasn't the moment for personal grievances.

“Everyone retreat! Jeongin and Hyunjin only! NOW!” Seungmin thundered, his voice slicing through the air with such authority that it sent an electric jolt of fear rippling through the spines of those around him.

Instantly, they sprang into action, a wave of bodies moving as one, fleeing the terrace with frantic haste, leaving Hyunjin lying exposed, unconscious and vulnerable, as Jeongin crouched beside him, his eyes locked on the fragile rise and fall of Hyunjin’s chest, waiting with breathless anticipation for Seungmin to act.

“Ready?” Seungmin asked, his voice calm yet tinged with an unspoken intensity, the question hanging heavy in the air as he stepped to the edge of the terrace, eyes scanning across the unnaturally brilliant night sky, a dazzling tapestry where stars mingle with otherworldly lights that blaze fiercely. These lights emanate from the very stone of the castle and mountain, intertwining like a living network of veins, intricately woven into their foundations by the raw, untamed magic of nature itself.

His fingers slid over the golden lyre with practiced fluidity, caressing the strings without yet playing them.

“Ready,” Jeongin echoed, his voice betraying a slight quiver, a tremor of fear and hope intertwined.

Seungmin slowly lowered himself to the ground, crossing his legs with deliberate precision, each movement measured and intentional. His fingers curled around his instrument with the familiarity of countless hours of practice, the gold smooth and warm beneath his touch. He closed his eyes, surrendering completely to the moment, allowing his hands to begin their elegant dance across the strings. It started as a slow, deliberate caress, each note lovingly coaxed into existence. Gradually, the tempo increased, building into a tempest of sound that filled the air with its intensity. Each note cascaded seamlessly into the next, creating a river of melody so fiercely alive it seemed to pulse with its own heartbeat, resonating deep within the listener's soul. The music enveloped him, weaving a tapestry of sound that painted vivid scenes in the mind's eye.

Then, as if drawing breath from the vast expanse of the universe itself, Seungmin parted his lips, and the true enchantment commenced. His voice erupted forth like a torrent of pure, unadulterated beauty, flowing like liquid silver cascading over jagged rocks. It was an ethereal lament, a haunting keening that shattered the boundaries of this world and reached into the void beyond. The sound was so profoundly moving that it could bring the strongest of men to their knees, tears streaming down their faces as it unearthed forgotten emotions buried deep within their souls. It struck a timeless chord, binding itself to the very essence of those who heard it, forming a bond so profound that only the finality of death could hope to break the sacred ties forged in the crucible of song.

As the music unfolded, Jeongin found himself utterly transfixed by the way Seungmin's fingers danced expertly over each string. They moved with an almost magical precision, never missing a note, even as they transitioned effortlessly into higher ranges. Each pluck and strum seemed to weave an intricate tapestry of sound, enveloping the listeners in its embrace.

The doctor found himself overwhelmed with longing as memories flooded through him—recollections of those same elegant fingers tracing patterns across his skin in the dim light of his bedchamber. How those hands had once held him with such tenderness, drawing sounds from his body as skillfully as they now drew music from the lyre. The sound pouring from Seungmin transported Jeongin back to nights when that same voice had sung his name in ecstasy. The memories were visceral—how Seungmin's melodious tones would rise and fall with their shared pleasure, his harmonies echoing Jeongin's own passionate cries as their bodies entwined in perfect synchrony. Each note seemed to pierce Jeongin's heart, reminding him of what they once shared—what they had lost.

But tonight wasn't about their fractured past. It was about Hyunjin's precarious future.

Suddenly, Jeongin was nearly startled out of his skin when an ear-piercing screech tore through the night air. He looked up just in time to dodge the deep crimson wyvern that swooped overhead with a menacing grace, narrowly avoiding a collision with his body. The creature landed heavily atop the large railings of the terrace, its impact chipping bits of stone that scattered like shards of glass.

Despite that he should have grown somewhat accustomed to such occurrences by now, the sight still terrified Jeongin. Anxiety bubbled painfully within his chest, fear overwhelming every sense and rendering him momentarily immobile. The adrenaline surged through his veins, and he was acutely aware of the pounding of his heart as he stood frozen, caught in the grip of both awe and terror.

The lyre player never faltered, not even for a heartbeat, despite the ominous threat that loomed menacingly above them. His fingers danced delicately over the strings, weaving a melody that resonated with the air, while subtly altering the lyrics of his lament to convey a message to the doctor present.

"~One of these days, he’s going to cause the entire structure to collapse and send us falling to our deaths~" Seungmin sang, his voice unwavering and lyrical, the gravity of his words failing to diminish the eloquence of his performance in the slightest.

Jeongin plastered his most convincing fake smile across his face, valiantly masking the terror that churned uncontrollably within his core. His courage found a voice as he replied in harmonious tune, "~Can you not~”

The dragon's keen eyes landed on the sedated commander sprawled defenseless on the ground beside him. After one mighty roar, it stretched its serpentine neck to examine the scene further.

Fortunately, it seemed to grasp the situation, merely emitting a low growl of irritation rather than launching into an aggressive assault. However, their safety was not guaranteed; all depended on avoiding provocation or attack.

The dragon nudged Hyunjin lightly with its enormous nose, a gesture almost of curiosity. It sniffed various parts of him, as though seeking answers hidden beneath flesh and bone, until it suddenly paused. Having encountered situations like this multiple times before—though usually with more assistance than just a bard—Jeongin recognized the dragon's acceptance of the requirement.

The creature stood as still as stone, momentarily entranced, allowing Jeongin to proceed with his task. He first poured a shimmering liquid onto a cloth, methodically wiping down a small section of the dragon's immense, scale-covered neck. Then, he retrieved an obscenely large sterile needle, crafted specifically for the dragon's colossal body mass. With practiced precision, he positioned himself to access the insertion point correctly, carefully lifting one of the massive scales to reveal the obsidian skin beneath.

He inhaled deeply, taking slow and even breaths in an effort to steady his trembling hands for the task at hand, despite being well-acquainted with the procedure. The persistent fear that one day the beast might react unpredictably loomed heavily in his mind, and each successful blood extraction felt like narrowly avoiding disaster.

It required both hands and nearly all his strength to correctly align the sharp tip and pierce the thick skin. Once he penetrated the surface without any adverse reaction from the beast, a wave of relief washed over him as the crimson liquid swiftly filled the unusually large vial, eventually drawing up to the brim. He carefully withdrew the needle as quickly as he could manage without causing unnecessary discomfort to the creature, though it was likely of little consequence, as wyverns could withstand significantly more physical trauma than any other known being and emerge unscathed.

He let out an audible sigh at the conclusion of the stressful task, securing the vial meticulously to prevent any spillage during the motion to kneel beside Hyunjin while the dragon appeared to be quite literally enjoying the music flowing from Seungmin, its massive head swaying slightly to the rhythm in a natural, almost hypnotic motion.

The lyrist seemed completely absorbed in the melody, playing with an effortless grace, yet it was a practiced facade. In reality, he was just as nervous and vigilant about his surroundings as Jeongin was.

“~Can you hurry up? I’ve got to pee~” the boy sang melodically, his voice weaving seamlessly into the tune.

Jeongin shook off the apprehension clouding his judgment for a moment, summoning the courage needed before reaching toward Hyunjin.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered under his breath, knowing full well the pain he was about to inflict, as he injected the blood directly into Hyunjin's neck near the subclavian artery, silently praying for forgiveness.

Within milliseconds of introducing the fluids into his system, Hyunjin stirred quietly, groaning painfully at the burning sensation that coursed freely through his entire circulatory system, filling him with a renewed vitality.

Seungmin paused his intricate performance for the magnificent beast, fully aware that dragons were prone to boredom and silently hoping it would soon depart as it usually did, instead of reacting angrily. Fortunately, the dragon obliged without further encouragement. It emitted a low, disinterested groan before launching itself into the sky with powerful beats of its enormous wings. These forceful flaps generated strong gusts of wind that swept through the surrounding area, sending dust swirling.

Meanwhile, Jeongin watched intently as a gradual transformation unfolded within the commander. Thanks to the immediate and life-giving infusion, the ashen hue of his skin slowly gave way to a healthier tone. His lips, previously pale, regained their rosy color, and his complexion flourished with renewed vitality. As the commander's eyes fluttered open, still glazed and unfocused, they eventually settled on the younger male kneeling before him through a veil of haze.

Hyunjin simply groaned, fully anticipating what was about to transpire.

With a fist clenched tightly in anger, Jeongin ground his teeth and delivered a fierce punch to Hyunjin's chest, striking him squarely on the sternum.

Hyunjin let out a grunt of pain and a rough cough at the unexpected impact, yet he showed no hint of surprise. On the contrary, he accepted the blow without resistance, which inexplicably left Jeongin feeling even more frustrated.

“You fucking asshole!” Jeongin screamed, his voice a raw echo through the open outdoors. His hands, trembling with rage, clenched into tight fists around the fabric of Hyunjin's shirt, gripping it fiercely over the collarbones. He shook Hyunjin with a force that betrayed the turmoil inside him, emotions boiling over like a pot left too long on the flame.

"Do you have a death wish?!" he spat, his voice cracking under the weight of his fear and fury. "If you’re going to do something so stupid, why at this very hour?!" Desperation colored his words, each syllable a plea for understanding. "You better be lucky Seungmin was present, because Minho is nowhere to be found, and you know that thing hates me on even its best days!" Jeongin's voice wavered, teetering on the edge of a sob, as tears pooled behind his eyes, threatening to spill over.

His forehead, heavy with the burden of his emotions, fell forward until it rested against Hyunjin's left breastbone, directly over the now steady, rhythmic beating of his heart. “Why...why are you always so fucking reckless?!" Jeongin’s voice broke, dissolving into a sob that punctuated the silence between his sharp, ragged breaths and uneven exhales.

“Don’t hit him while that thing is in the area.” Seungmin issued a warning, his voice steady yet edged with concern, but Jeongin was too engulfed in his frustration to heed the advice. His emotions were a turbulent storm, and he knew that even a single glance at Seungmin would unleash a torrent of feelings he wasn't prepared to face.

Hyunjin gently placed a warm, comforting palm atop Jeongin's head, his fingers weaving tenderly through the silky strands of Jeongin's hair. He listened closely, his mind racing to find a suitable explanation he could offer to Jeongin.

The quietude of the moment was abruptly shattered by a low voice that spoke from nearby, cutting through the stillness.

“What happened?”

Seungmin and Jeongin whirled around, their hearts pounding, to confront the source of the intrusion. There stood Felix, visibly sick and teetering on the edge of collapse. He was clad only in a flimsy nightshirt, stained with remnants of the commander's blood, barely skimming his knees. A robe hung precariously from his shoulders, a feeble attempt at preserving his dignity. Felix's blonde hair was plastered to his clammy forehead, droplets of sweat peppering his pallid skin. His face burned with fever, a vivid testament to the grueling effort it took to drag himself here. His legs quaked beneath him, each step a monumental struggle, every breath a shallow gasp that seemed to steal the very air around him. Yet, against all odds, Felix had managed to traverse several meters onto the vast terrace, his presence a silent scream of defiance against his frail condition.

Both Seungmin and Jeongin turned pale as soon as they caught sight of Felix, their hearts sinking in unison, not due to his fragile condition, which Jeongin had anticipated given the immense strain and discomfort the magic had caused Felix while aiding Hyunjin through the procedure. Instead, their unease stemmed from something deeper, something unspoken that lingered in the air like a heavy cloud.

"SHIT!"

They didn't hesitate. In a flash, they abandoned their tasks and bolted towards him, driven by an instinct they couldn't yet comprehend. Hyunjin barely had time to lift his head, his curiosity piqued, as the two raced to avert looming disaster.

Suddenly, a deafening screech tore through the air, echoing from the terrace's edge. The wyvern exploded into view, launching over the railing like a shadowy predator that had been lurking, gripping the castle walls with sinister patience.

In a menacing display, the dragon's wings beat furiously, conjuring violent gusts that roared with the power of a storm. The wind slammed into the bodies charging toward Felix, who stood paralyzed with terror, eyes wide as he faced the monstrous creature preparing to strike.

The ferocious blast sent Seungmin and Jeongin hurtling backwards, their bodies flung off the terrace like ragdolls, leaving Felix rooted in horror. His heart shattered with instant grief, even though one was a stranger and the other barely an acquaintance. Hyunjin, stranded still on his back, could only watch in helplessly as chaos unfolded.

The elf was paralyzed, trapped in a vice of fear and pressure, unable to speak or move. The beast, a monstrous titan of power, lifted its head to the heavens, gathering energy with a terrifying resolve. The tales he'd heard couldn't compare to the reality, but he recognized the signs instantly: it was about to unleash a hellish breath of flame upon them.

The shock shattered his paralysis, wrenching him into action as if his legs were possessed by a force beyond his control. His mind screamed for the safety of the fortress walls, a refuge from the impending inferno, but his heart drowned out the cowardly voice, driving him forward.

He sprinted with every ounce of speed his body could muster, shedding his outer robe as he propelled himself over Hyunjin with reckless abandon. Instinct took over, and he cocooned the taller male with his own body, desperately trying to shield him with every inch of his smaller frame. The robe became a makeshift barrier, a thin veil against the coming storm of fire.

His ribs howled in protest, lungs threatened to implode under the crushing weight of terror, but adrenaline surged through him, a tidal wave of raw energy that dulled the pain to a distant whisper. Clutching Hyunjin's face against his collarbone, he prayed that the fragile bones might offer a sliver of protection, especially for the eyes, gritting his teeth against the agony he knew would soon descend upon them.

Fear had gripped him before, when Hyunjin had drawn a sword on him, but that was a pale shadow of the terror consuming him now. This was a primal dread, visceral and all-encompassing, as he surrendered himself to the inevitable, determined to sacrifice his life for the man beneath him in spite of his seething contempt for the cruel, crass being.

Felix couldn't help but imagine countless scenarios where the commander might meet a sudden, violent end, liberating Felix from this dreadful entanglement. Yet, these were nothing but desperate fantasies, for deep down, Felix understood that Hyunjin's survival was crucial. The man was valuable; he was the king's treasured sibling, the leader of the most formidable army, a comrade to many, and revered by the masses.

In contrast, Felix was a discarded heir, a pawn in a foreign land, with nothing to offer but the ultimate sacrifice—his own life.

In a twisted longing, he desperately wished that in the wake of his own demise, Hyunjin would perhaps finally recognize that he wasn’t utterly worthless.

Tears brimmed in Felix's eyes as he braced himself for the fiery onslaught he was certain would descend upon him. Each second stretched into eternity, yet the anticipated inferno never came. Instead, he felt a different sensation—a series of sharp, rapid breaths exhaled harshly onto his neck, each one a taunting whisper of what could have been.

In an instant, it dawned on him that it was Hyunjin, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips and steadily growing louder with each heartbeat. After what felt like an eternity but was mere moments, Hyunjin pulled back, revealing his deep brown eyes, alight with a mischievous sparkle that danced with amusement.

"Well, at least you didn’t piss on me this time," the commander quipped with a casual nonchalance that belied the danger surrounding them.

Felix, thinking Hyunjin must be delirious, widened his eyes in disbelief. He shook his head gently, whispering a hasty "Shhh" as he placed a finger over Hyunjin's lips, his gaze darting anxiously around for threats. But his vigilance was futile, for they were cocooned beneath a voluminous silk robe.

Hyunjin played along, savoring the moment of contact more than he dared to admit, his grin impish and full of secrets. He relished the elf's ignorance, the delicate pressure of Felix's finger against his lips, though he would never confess it outright.

Hyunjin decided to escalate the tension. He nipped playfully at the pad of Felix’s finger, a sudden move that shattered the momentary calm like glass.

Felix jerked back with a gasp, the abrupt motion causing the robe to slip partially off, exposing them to the beast that loomed dangerously close. Its massive head was inches from Felix's face, barred teeth gleaming menacingly in the dim light. He could feel the searing heat of steam rushing from its nostrils, tickling the bridge of his nose and making his eyelashes quiver with the proximity of such catastrophic power.

Felix remained perfectly still, his body rigid with tension, as though even the slightest motion might provoke the beast. His muscles were locked, his eyes wide and unblinking as they stared at the creature’s teeth. The air around him was thick with the anticipation of a predator about to pounce.

With the precision of a skilled ventriloquist, Felix whispered to Hyunjin, who observed the standoff with an unsettling amusement. "Hyunjin… what do we do?" he breathed, his voice barely audible above the pounding of his heart.

Hyunjin's smile was genuine, a stark contrast to the dread that gripped Felix. The sight of the elf cowering before such an imposing creature stirred a mischievous impulse within him. He fought the urge to escalate the charade, to wrap Felix in a mock embrace as if to shield him from the monstrous threat, only to then fling him toward it, just to see the man shriek.

Instead, he channeled his focus onto the beast, reaching to pop it underneath its jaw with a gentle thump of his palm that seemed casually disrespectful to Felix's terrified eyes.

"Hey, asshole, back down," he commanded with an edge of irritation, though his expression betrayed nothing but a detached boredom as his gaze fixed on the beast instead of the man.

In an instant, the dragon snapped its head back, a fierce growl rumbling deep from within its throat like a brewing storm.

"Yeah, I know. He’s an elf, but we’re kind of married now, so he’s off the menu. Kapeesh?" the commander retorted with a biting condescension. "I’ll explain later," he added, addressing the beast, ignoring the man sprawled partially over him, who was gripped by a whirlwind of confusion and panic, unable to comprehend the unfolding scene.

The dragon let out a piercing shriek, its displeasure palpable, unfurling its massive leathery wings in a grandiose display, a mixture of intimidation and disappointment radiating from its form. It began to saunter away, its tail swishing moodily from side to side, occasionally lashing out with destructive force against stone structures, leaving devastation in its wake. Reaching the edge, it started to scale the tower vertically with an unnerving ease, choosing not to take flight but to crawl down, maintaining its deliberate pace.

Felix blinked in utter disbelief, his mind reeling at the bizarre behavior of both beings. His eyes widened, trying to process the surreal scene before him, as if reality had been torn apart and stitched back together in the most nonsensical way. He was more than dumbfounded—he teetered on the precipice of panic, his heart pounding like a war drum in his chest. Surely, this had to be a dream, a nightmare he desperately wished to wake from, where shadows danced in the periphery of his vision and nothing made sense. There wasn't a single shred of logic to explain the chaos that had just unfolded, like a puzzle with pieces that refused to fit. His mind was a storm of confusion, thoughts crashing into one another like waves in a tempest, his senses overloaded beyond comprehension, each sound and sight amplified to a deafening roar. Overwhelmed was an understatement, and yet words failed him, his mouth opening and closing in a futile attempt to voice his inner turmoil, leaving him stranded in a silent scream of bewilderment.

Earlier that night, after siphoning the ailment from Hyunjin, Felix's energy felt like it had been drained by a merciless force. He could feel the looming crash of fear-induced adrenaline, knowing it was only a matter of time before he succumbed. His body teetered on the edge of collapse, shutting down against his will.

Amidst a whirlwind of unanswered questions and the terror of the beast’s return, one fear clawed its way to the forefront of his mind—a fear that gripped him with icy fingers. He glanced down at Hyunjin, whose careless eyes met his own.

“Jeongin,” Felix whispered, the name escaping his lips like a fragile glass that might shatter with the slightest sound, fearing it might seal the fate of the boy who had plunged off the balcony with the lyrist.

That single, tremulous utterance shattered the paralysis, propelling him into action. With a surge of desperation, he crawled off Hyunjin, his hands slamming onto the balcony floor as he braced himself to rise. He was driven by an urgent need to discover Jeongin’s fate, even as exhaustion and dread threatened to drag him down.

He shakily climbed to his feet, his legs unsteady beneath him, as Hyunjin rose effortlessly beside him with a grace that seemed almost unnatural.

"He's fine," Hyunjin spoke, his voice steady, the certainty in his words evident even without needing to visually confirm the situation for himself.

Yet Felix was already sprinting towards the railing, his movements rushed and clumsy. He stumbled over his own feet, desperation driving him forward until his hands clutched the cool, unyielding surface of the stone railings, his knuckles turning white with tension.

Below them, about two floors down, was an extended platform, haphazardly but comfortably furnished with a haphazard pile of worn, well-used mattresses. There, Jeongin and Seungmin lay sprawled, appearing casual and nonchalant as if they hadn't just narrowly escaped being engulfed in flames and hurled from a terrace anchored against the largest mountain in the realm. Their expressions were more of exasperation and irritation than the shock one might expect from such an ordeal.

Hyunjin joined Felix and leaned against the railing with an air of ease, his posture relaxed as he watched the elf panic further, a faint smile playing on his lips as if the drama unfolding was a mere spectacle.

“We’re okay!” Jeongin shouted up to them, his voice carrying with a reassuring tone, offering a thumbs up.

Seungmin, on the other hand, was not quite as dandy, his voice tinged with a dry bitterness as he reclined with his hands behind his head. "No, we're not," he disagreed plainly, a hint of irritation crossing his face, though his tone carried a teasing edge. "We are deeply traumatized and must be compensated for our emotional damages appropriately."

Hyunjin chuckled down at them with an unsettling fondness, a stark departure from the bitterness Felix was accustomed to seeing in him, making Felix question the bond between him and these men.

“I hate that thing,” Seungmin replied, his voice tinged with mild annoyance as he sat up on the bedding, stubbornly refusing to descend from the elevated space.

“Your compensation is that I don’t command ‘that thing’ to roast your asses next time you piss me off," Hyunjin called out with a dangerous playfulness, as if the threat of being roasted alive was just casual conversation.

Felix was beyond speechless, his mind reeling from the abrupt shift in atmosphere. Moments ago, they had been on the brink of death, and now they were practically bantering as if no danger or fear had ever loomed over them.

“If you do that, who’s going to save your ass every time you go and do something stupid?” Jeongin shot back, his tone far less amused by Hyunjin's antics. He pushed himself up to a sitting position, wincing slightly as he rubbed his lower back.

Despite Jeongin's lingering irritation with Hyunjin over his earlier actions, soft laughter resonated between them, closing the gap of stories that separated them.

Even from afar, Seungmin noticed Felix standing beside the commander, looking utterly bewildered, his face drained of color as he leaned heavily against the railing. It wasn’t just shock—it was something more. Was it sickness, fatigue, or a harrowing blend of both? Hard to discern from such a distance.

“Hyunjin, your boyfriend seems unwell," Seungmin taunted, a sly grin playing on his lips as he eyed the commander with mischief.

“Not my boyfriend," Hyunjin snapped back defiantly, though the truth was inescapable—they were already bound by marriage.

“Right, sorry. Husband!” Seungmin corrected with a mocking tone, hands raised in mock surrender, laughter bubbling up as if the whole affair was a grand joke only he could fully appreciate.

Meanwhile, Jeongin was a whirlwind of motion, scrambling desperately to his feet, hindered by the annoyingly plush surface beneath him.

“Jinnie! Catch him!" he shouted, his voice a sharp arrow of urgency, as he hurled himself through the open window and into the castle, determined to reach the elf teetering on the brink of collapse.

Hyunjin's attention snapped to Felix, eyes widening with alarm as he watched him slumping dangerously toward the rail.

In an instant, Hyunjin sprang, his fingers clamping around Felix’s shoulder like steel shackles. He yanked him back, and Felix’s limp body crashed into him, weightless and broken, slumping as though his life force had been wrung from his bones. Hyunjin trapped him against his chest, heart hammering as panic carved deep lines into his face.

“Elf?” he inquired hesitantly, jostling him hard to provoke even the slightest acknowledgment.

Felix only reacted with a faint, indecipherable whisper. Hyunjin’s brow furrowed as he pounded a fist into Felix’s chest. A low groan escaped the elf’s cracked lips, but no real response came.

“This isn’t funny, elf!” Hyunjin snarled, voice echoing off the stone walls. “What’s your problem?!”

Felix’s head lolled, and his unfocused eyes blinked up at him, bloodshot eyes, drenched in red, the lids flickering like dying embers. Sweat sluiced down his temples and his lips, parched and violet-tinted, parted in ragged gasps. Every exhale sounded like the last breath of a drowning man.

Then Hyunjin saw it: a spiderweb of black veins snaking across Felix’s nose and cheeks, pulsing outward until his entire face was a map of corruption.

At last, he managed to decode a faint whisper that pierced the silence like a dagger. “Felix…” The elf's voice was a tortured rasp, fragile as shattered glass: “My name is Felix.” A feverish grin twisted his lips, brittle and unnerving, a haunting finality etched into his expression as if both introducing himself and saying goodbye in the same tortured breath before his body surrendered into complete stillness, his chocolate eyes drained of all vitality, transforming into hollow orbs that stared vacantly into the abyss, devoid of any spark or recognition.

Chapter Text

"Felix," Hyunjin murmured breathily, the name escaping his lips with a chilling clarity that sent shivers down his spine. A freezing dread seized his heart like a vice as he stared at the elf, where inky black veins snaked ruthlessly beneath the skin, consuming it like a merciless tide.

Hyunjin spun him in his arms, eyes wide as he traced the dark pattern crawling down Felix’s throat, across his jawline, painting his freckled skin with poison. A sick certainty blossomed in Hyunjin’s chest—this couldn’t be possible. It made no sense.

He hugged Felix tighter, as if his own grip could stave off death’s approach. Then he roared toward the castle: “Jeongin!”

Moments later, Jeongin burst onto the terrace. No sooner had he arrived than Felix convulsed violently, his body shuddering in Hyunjin’s arms as gurgles and tortured gasps erupted from his chest. The scene was a nightmare made flesh: Felix’s body spastically writhed against the commander’s clutch, sweat and drool mingling at his pursed lips, eyes rolling back in pure agony.

Hyunjin’s heart thundered. He fought to keep the spasming elf upright, every muscle locked in desperate tension. “Jeongin! Help! Please! What do I do?!” His voice cracked like a whip.

Along with the dread blossoming within Hyunjin, a profound sense of bafflement soon joined it, intertwining with his emotions in a complex dance. He had longed for this very scenario—any escape from the shackles of their cursed arrangement, really—but now that the specter of death hovered ominously over Felix, there was no sense of triumph or victory in it. Instead, there was only terror: the fear of the unknown, the ache of helplessness that gnawed at him relentlessly.

Hyunjin was no stranger to the grim reality of death—he had witnessed men fall on the battlefield, had delivered the killing blow himself countless times with a steady hand—but this was different, painfully different. This death was slow, drawn out in its cruelty; this was a man who hadn’t signed up to die, who was unprepared for the finality of it all. This wasn't honor or glory or the heat of battle—it was pure, unadulterated suffering, stretched out and merciless.

Despite the deep-seated disdain that simmered within him for the elf, his people, and the entirety of their arrangement, Hyunjin found himself unable to fathom a world where the man who had cowered in his closet, trembling with terror, and then humiliated himself by losing control out of sheer dread, could deserve such a cruel and merciless fate. It seemed an injustice, a punishment too harsh for the young man, and it left Hyunjin questioning why the thought of Felix's death left such a gaping hole in his chest. Perhaps it was simply the residual echo of his vows; duty-bound promises didn't dissolve easily, even when made against one's will.

There was no compassion for elves in his heart—none. Yet the weight of Felix in his arms, the body that had just needlessly tried to shield him from dragonfire, stirred something unfamiliar within him.

“Lay him down!” Jeongin commanded urgently, pointing to the pallet where Hyunjin had been previously, alongside the doctor’s essential medical box.

Without a moment's hesitation, Hyunjin hoisted the weakened elf into his arms, his body trembling violently with uncontrollable spasms. Though his hands shook with anxiety as the seizure unfolded right before him, Hyunjin moved with determined speed to the makeshift bed, laying the elf down gently. He knelt beside him, cradling the back of Felix's head in his hand to prevent it from smashing against the unforgiving stone flooring as his body convulsed erratically.

“Shit,” Jeongin muttered under his breath, his face a mask of helplessness as he knelt beside Hyunjin.

Hyunjin's eyes were wide, wild with desperation as he snapped at the doctor, “Shit?! What do you mean shit?! What’s happening?! Do something!”

Jeongin stumbled over his words, his mind a chaotic mess, unable to form coherent thoughts amid the crisis.

Suddenly, without warning, Felix erupted with a violent surge, spewing an obscene amount of thick, black liquid straight into the air. The inky substance splattered down, drenching Felix like a grotesque baptism in squid ink.

Jeongin's heart pounded with terror, but for reasons that differed from Hyunjin's, who was frozen beside Felix, disbelief etched across his face. The obsidian ooze had splashed liberally over both of them, yet in that moment, neither could focus on anything but the elf's plight.

Gasping desperately for air, Felix managed to roll onto his left side, where he expelled more of the dark substance, though with less intensity than before, each breath a fight against the encroaching darkness.

He continued to retch violently for what felt like an eternity, his body convulsing with each agonizing heave, before he finally regained a semblance of coherence. His breath came in ragged, burning gasps as he groaned, utterly spent and drowning in misery from the harrowing ordeal. When he finally mustered the strength to collapse onto his back once more, the first thing he saw was Hyunjin and Jeongin kneeling right beside him. Their faces were frozen in shock, their expressions blank beneath layers of black splatter that covered their skin and clothes, seemingly indifferent to the grime that painted them from head to toe.

Felix gazed at them with hollow eyes, his breath shallow as he desperately tried to refill his collapsed lungs.

In any other situation, he might have found the scene unfolding before his eyes quite amusing. The bewildered expressions on their faces, mixed with a hint of panic, painted a comical picture. Their misfortune at being caught directly in the line of fire added an almost slapstick element to the tableau, one that would have surely elicited a hearty chuckle from him under different circumstances.

Suddenly, Seungmin burst through the doorway with a frantic urgency, trailed by a swarm of nurses and a cadre of individuals wielding weapons, ready to face whatever nightmare awaited them. In his panic, he had rallied the troops while Jeongin and Hyunjin struggled to contain Felix's turbulent episode.

The new entourage came to an abrupt halt, their eyes widening in shock at the sight that lay before them. There was the commander, on his knees, splattered with a substance that resembled black soot, giving him a malevolent appearance. Beside him, the doctor was similarly stained, his body now a canvas of dark streaks. In front of them lied the elf prince, his upper body entirely coated with the same inky substance, rendering him almost completely unrecognizable. He looked like a victim of a brutal assault, his features obscured and his condition uncertain.

As Felix released a final, chesty cough, expelling the last remnants of the pitch-like fluid from his lungs, the soldiers around him instinctively sprang into action. In a synchronized movement, they assumed fighting stances, their swords and arrows aimed directly at the elf with deadly intent. Bows were drawn taut, the tension in the air as palpable as the string ready to release its arrow at a single word.

"Commander! Orders?" a soldier called out amidst the tense cluster, his voice taut with anticipation. The blades of their swords gleamed menacingly in the light, poised for attack. They were all prepared to strike at the defenseless figure before them, too weakened by his ordeal to pose any real threat or evade the onslaught of these skilled and determined warriors.

Hyunjin’s gaze rose slowly, menacingly, from Felix, whose expression was blank, dazed, and utterly exhausted in every conceivable sense. Hyunjin's eyes landed solidly on each warrior standing before him, not a single one flinching under his piercing gaze or his attempts at intimidation. These were men and women of Levanter, after all, steadfast and unyielding.

They waited patiently, as still as statues.

“‘I will not harm those who cannot harm me,’” Hyunjin recited with a stern authority, each word resonating with the weight of a promise that held profound meaning for his people.

“But, sir, look at yourself! Look at all this...this!" a female voice cried out in frustration, her arms sweeping wide to encompass the chaos surrounding them.

Another nurse joined in, her voice tinged with frantic urgency. “What is it?!”

Yet another voice rose in accusation, a finger pointing sharply at Felix, her tone laced with anger and fear. “It’s an attack! Some black magic conjured by the elves to infiltrate our fortresses and kill us from within!” she hissed, her body tense, shifting her weight anxiously between her legs as if ready to fight tooth and nail if it came to that.

Felix grimaced the moment he heard these words, a fresh wave of discomfort washing over him at the thought of complete strangers believing him capable of such treachery and deceit. This was a different kind of pain entirely, a profound ache that sliced deeper than any physical wound ever could. It was an emotional sting that lingered like a shadow, refusing to fade away. He had arrived with hopes of forging new friendships, of finding a sense of belonging in this unfamiliar place. Yet, the prejudices seemed to extend beyond just his husband. It was a harsh reminder of the barriers they faced, a disheartening reality that dimmed the light of his hope.

The warriors stood in stoic silence, their faces set like stone, knowing better than to challenge their formidable commander. In stark contrast, the nurses carried on like a flock of raucous crows, their voices sharp and grating as they hurled insults and accusations at Felix. His weary eyes brimmed with fresh tears that trickled down, tracing a glistening path along his temples and disappearing into his hairline.

Hyunjin felt more conflicted than anything; his emotions a tangled web of confusion. He had no inkling of what was transpiring, no understanding of the elf's condition, nor any clue about the mysterious substance that had erupted from the elf. The thought plagued him—could it be a toxic concoction sent by the elves to poison him or, worse, the king? He wouldn't put it past the cunning Felorans to devise such a scheme. Defending the elf was not a priority for him, nor did he truly care to intervene.

After all, this could be his chance to finally break free. Free from the oppressive chains of an arranged marriage to someone he detested. Yet, even if the substance were to gnaw away at him like a silent predator, eventually leading him to an untimely grave, the battle code was sacred, and he vowed to honor it. No harm could come to the elf, not in this very moment at least.

Felix lay there, utterly helpless and posing no threat to the vigilant warriors maintaining their stance.

Before any decisions could be made or orders issued, the young doctor suddenly rose to his feet, his voice erupting with unexpected power, "QUIET!!!"

The word reverberated through the air, louder than he had ever imagined his voice capable of. It captured the immediate attention and silenced the nurses who stood there, mouths agape in shock.

Even Hyunjin was momentarily taken aback by the force and authority emanating from the usually mild-mannered, relatively timid physician.

Jeongin sucked in a ragged breath, his chest heaving as if he’d been running uphill for miles. He forced his spine straight, trying to reclaim a posture of formality even though slick, obsidian fluid coated his arms and dripped from his hair. His legs trembled with lingering panic. “I can explain!” His voice rang out loud and raw, each word trembling on the edge of breakdown. He swept his gaze across the assembled faces—soldiers rigid in shock, their expressions etched in disbelief—before faltering when he met Hyunjin’s steady, questioning stare. “I think…” The last syllable wavered and died, his confidence dissolving like mist.

All eyes locked on Jeongin, breath held in the silence that followed.

Felix, drenched in sweat and some unknown substance, battled against exhaustion. He attempted to sit up, his arms straining with the effort, but his body refused to cooperate, leaving him to slump back down. Hyunjin responded instinctively, extending a steady hand. Felix accepted without hesitation, but rather taken aback by the unexpected gesture, and Hyunjin's fingers wrapped around his with an unexpected gentleness.

As Felix's limp body lifted, Hyunjin supported him, sliding his other arm beneath Felix's shoulders to lift him into a precarious seated position. Felix's core muscles quivered as he struggled to stay upright and conscious, his eyelids flickering as if he might collapse at any moment.

Hyunjin inched closer with deliberate care, wrapping his arms gently around Felix's waist. He gently coaxed the elf to lean into him. Felix's back pressed against Hyunjin's chest, creating a warm, albeit messy, living brace that held him upright. This closeness formed a protective cocoon, instilling a sense of stability.

Seungmin noticed the gesture and exchanged a brief, curious look with Jeongin before observing Hyunjin's attentive care for Felix. Felix's head now rested limply on the commander's shoulder, a sign of relief washing over him, grateful to no longer bear the burden alone. The atmosphere softened, with Hyunjin's actions offering subtle comfort amidst the group's quiet murmurs.

Despite his overwhelming exhaustion, Felix managed a faint, thankful glance, whispering his gratitude to the commander almost inaudibly.

Hyunjin felt a sudden warmth flush his chest and without thinking, he offered back a small, curt nod in acknowledgement.

It startled him when the realization dawned on him, like a sudden flash of lightning. He had made a silent gesture, one that had slipped from his subconscious without his intention, a subtle movement that betrayed his thoughts before he could catch it.

Shame and pride warred inside Hyunjin like clashing blades. Shame that he’d shown any care for this foreign creature; a strange sense of pride that the elf had accepted his gesture without argument. He reasoned with himself that it was merely a reflex, an instinct learned when aiding countless comrades in endless battles.

He would never admit—even in the deepest recesses of his own mind—that the elf he currently held in his arms actually mattered. The thought was buried beneath layers of denial and pride, hidden away where even he dared not venture.

He was acutely aware that, if he desired, he could effortlessly push Felix aside in an instant, watching as he crumpled to the ground like a discarded rag doll. The power to do so surged through him, yet he deliberately refrained. Why did he hold back? He wasn’t entirely sure. Perhaps it was out of respect for Jeongin, who was currently the focal point of attention, commanding the room with his presence.

Jeongin lifted his stained hands to his sight, peering intently at the dark substance covering them. The fluid clung in thick beads. He let it drip back onto the ground in slow rivulets, then squared his shoulders. He ignored the stares that felt like ice daggers. At last, his voice rang out calm and measured.

“It’s venom.”

The audience, sans Seungmin, Hyunjin, and Felix, reacted in a chorus of confusion, denial, and terror. Their faces were painted with disbelief, eyes wide and mouths slightly agape, as a wave of gasps and panic rippled through the open area like a sudden gust of wind.

“He’s poisoned the commander!”

“I knew that creature was up to no good!”

“Fucking Felorans!”

“A monster!”

“Elves are venomous?!”

"SILENCE! Jeongin is speaking!" Seungmin's voice cut sharply through the chaos, a bark of authority that demanded attention. His eyes blazed with irritation as he scanned the crowd, locking gazes with each person in turn. The intensity of his stare caused them to flinch visibly, and many muttered quiet apologies, their voices barely audible above the hush that descended.

The cacophony died down almost instantly, leaving behind only the faint whispers of fear. Jeongin let out a nervous chuckle, the sound escaping him in a breathy, uncertain wave, while a rosy blush spread across his cheeks like the soft glow of dawn. Gathering his composure, he continued.

"Several hours ago, our beloved Hyunjin, feeling the weight of this week's stress, did what he often does best: he took off into the depths of the woods, likely hoping to vent some of his pent-up frustration and found himself in a quarrel with a young basilisk," Jeongin recounted, his tone casual yet laced with a nervous tremor and slight irritation. The mention of the creature that had caused the incident sent a shiver down his spine, and he cast a glance of both irritation and concern towards Hyunjin. "Long story short, he came back with a fang embedded deeply in his back."

The crowd looked as one to the commander, their expressions a mix of anticipation and dread, as they awaited further explanation or reassurance.

Hyunjin gave a sheepish, half-hearted shrug. “You should see the basilisk,” he added dismissively in jest. A few onlookers couldn’t help but chuckle.

Jeongin rolled his eyes, his deep irises flashing with irritation. He inhaled deeply, as if gathering courage, then pressed on in a low, tense voice. “I got to work on him immediately, but if you know anything about basilisk venom, you know just how nightmarish the removal process can be. The moment that fang pierces your skin, the venom sears through your veins like molten steel. It fuses with muscle and tissue almost instantly. His fang was perilously close to the spinal cord—I genuinely feared we were going to lose him.”

Jeongin paused as if reliving the ordeal mentally, staring absently forward while mindlessly biting at the lower corner of his mouth as a nasty habit whenever faced with stress.

“As if by fate or damn good luck, Felix walked in and saw the struggle and… I don’t even know what happened. Hyunjin was a rabid lion one minute and calmed completely the next through some kind of magic unlike anything I'd ever seen. Magic strong enough to calm the beast itself." Jeongin gestured toward said man dramatically. “It’s like he sucked it out of him or something," he explained, pausing to correct his terminology. “Wait, no, that sounded wrong. Um, I mean, like… I think he somehow magically siphoned the venom from Hyunjin's body into his own. I didn’t know it at the time, but he seemed like he was in extreme pain himself as he was doing… what he was doing," the doctor informed hesitantly, recalling how blood oozed from every orifice of Felix as he performed his magic, looking uncomfortable at thought of repeating the scene before the crowd.

“With the fang removed, we were able to sedate Hyunjin for rest, and Felix lost consciousness shortly afterwards. Unfortunately, Hyunjin’s bleeding wouldn’t stop even after some time, so we had to replenish…”

He paused, uncertainty flickering across his face as he weighed the situation. The question loomed large in his mind: just how much had Felix observed before he spoke up? With caution as his guide, he opted to keep his lips sealed, choosing not to reveal any further details until he was certain of Felix's knowledge.

Soft whispers and low mutters of doubt floated through the air like a gentle breeze, barely noticeable yet undeniably present.

"Basilisk venom ruthlessly invades and obliterates every blood cell, leaving not a single drop of blood untouched, and then it spreads further, consuming everything in its path until... well, you get the gruesome picture," he hesitated, grimacing as he remembered the horrific sight of victims with their eyes grotesquely bulging and bursting from the relentless pressure and the overflow of thick, black ichor. The room was filled with anxious listeners, already acutely aware of the lethal nature of the venom. "But for reasons that defy my comprehension and contradict all I know," he continued, his voice tinged with disbelief, "I believe Felix somehow managed to purge it from his system through his gastrointestinal tract..."

He shook his head, as though trying to dislodge the memory. “I still don’t understand how he did it. But if you ask me, it was nothing short of miraculous.”

The doctor shot a quick look back at Felix, who looked utterly absurd yet disturbingly eerie, slumped against Hyunjin’s chest, drenched in a thick, black, tar-like substance that clung to him menacingly. Only the whites of his eyes pierced through the dimly lit terrace with a cartoonish, yet terrifying intensity.

“You don’t say,” Hyunjin jested light-heartedly, earning some amused looks and soft laughter amongst others, easing tension slightly and allowing others to breathe normally again rather than hold air tightly inside.

Seungmin surged forward with determination, kneeling before Felix's slumped, bewildered form. The elf’s eyelids felt like lead weights, but he willed them open with fierce resolve. The lyrist scrutinized Felix’s features with relentless intensity, dissecting every detail in a desperate search for hidden secrets or any sign of deceit or malicious intent lurking beneath the surface.

"I knew some of your kind could siphon strength, power, magic, and even life essence, but I had no idea you could also siphon ailments. Then again, who would willingly take on someone else's ailment, even if they could?" Seungmin declared with a sharp edge to his voice. "Is it exclusive to envenomation, or does it extend further?" he probed, his curiosity crackling in the air like static.

Felix stirred slightly, his senses sharpening as he leaned against Hyunjin, absorbing the charged atmosphere of the conversation. The reality was, he hadn't planned any of this as some noble sacrifice. His actions were spontaneous, instinctual. Yet here he was, caught in the spotlight, wrestling with the wisdom of revealing his secrets to these strangers. But what did he have to lose? The truth was a double-edged sword, and he was ready, or perhaps reckless enough, to wield it.

"Pain," Felix rasped out, his voice like sandpaper, lips parched and eyes tightly shut. He swallowed hard, trying to soothe his raw throat, and forced out another croak of explanation. "I can siphon pain, whether it's emotional or physical. I didn't mean to draw the venom from him, but if that's what was needed, my gift acts on its own sometimes. I didn’t know he was envenomated then." He futilely licked his cracked lips.

“Would it have mattered?” Seungmin's blunt question sliced through the air, leaving even Hyunjin momentarily stunned.

“What?” Felix whispered hoarsely, lifting his weary head with effort to meet Seungmin’s unyielding gaze, his eyes bleary but determined.

Seungmin’s face remained a mask of neutrality as he pressed on. “If you had known what was ailing him, would you still have acted?” His words were sharp, demanding truth, his eyes blinking methodically as he awaited an answer.

Felix didn't flinch, didn't waver for an instant. He turned just enough to catch the commander in his peripheral vision, his voice a fragile whisper, cracked from dehydration but unwavering in conviction.

"Yes."

Both Hyunjin and Seungmin could see the unwavering certainty etched into Felix's face, as if he uttered the words carved in stone. Yet, Hyunjin snorted with disbelief, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. A simple yes was meaningless; of course Felix would say that now, surrounded by everyone.

But the harsh reality slapped him hard—the confirmation that Felix had indeed numbed his agony and offered soothing comfort while Hyunjin screamed, cried, and laid his dignity bare was no hallucination. The embarrassment scorched his cheeks and delivered a brutal blow to his pride. He wished desperately for it all to be a fabrication. But he couldn't deny that this seemingly withered flower had, in fact, saved his life. It was insulting.

Seungmin’s chin lifted with stubborn resolve, despite the dark crescents of exhaustion under his eyes—he believed every word, hook, line, and sinker. “Now what?” he demanded, a flicker of defiance in his lifted brow as he faced Jeongin.

Hyunjin’s voice cracked like a snapping whip. “Back to your stations!” It boomed behind Felix, causing him to jerk lightly in surprise at the sudden rise of vocal volume from directly behind him, forgetting momentarily the position he was still nestled into. In any other moment, he would have jumped ship at the quickest opportunity and moved as far from the man as possible, but right now his energy levels were nil, and he resigned himself to temporary fate.

The warriors obeyed, armor and weapons humming in retreat, but each footstep echoed with wariness as they cast anxious glances back at the four men on the terrace. However, the medical staff stood motionlessly, waiting for an order from the doctor.

“Prepare two beds in the infirmary,” Jeongin ordered, voice colder than ocean depths. The nurses nodded and scattered like startled mice.

“Two?” Hyunjin’s brow shot up, disbelief bleeding into his tone.

Jeongin fixed him with a glare so piercing it seared steel. “Yes. You had a hole in your back and venom in your veins only hours ago. You’re under my custody until I say otherwise. And you—” Jeongin pointed straight at Felix. “—you might be just as reckless considering you didn’t even bother asking what was wrong with him before doing that glowy eyed magic shit!”

Felix’s shoulders slumped in contrition, his cheeks aflame. Yet beneath the shame, a grudging spark of admiration for Jeongin’s unshakeable command flickered to life.He hadn’t expected it from the male.

Although the elf was initially on his way to spend the night with Hyunjin, a sudden wave of anxiety crashed over him like a tidal wave, suffocating him with the realization that he would now have to endure the night with the man in the sterile, unnerving confines of the infirmary.

“My gift,” Felix rasped, his voice heavy with fatigue. Using it this strenuously just plummets the necessary resources for body function and exhausts me. I just need a balanced meal, hydration, maybe some vitamins, and rest. I don't need medical attention," he clarified softly with half-lidded eyes, looking rather pitiful in his state.

“I didn’t ask,” Jeongin responded apathetically, leaving no room for argument as he stood up straight with his hands upon his hips. His tone brokered no dispute. Hyunjin didn’t know whether to be proud of him or perturbed that he’d be spending the rest of the night in the medical bay, with the elf nonetheless.

With palpable apprehension, Seungmin stood, a flicker of amusement dancing across his face. “You’re all set to walk on your own, right? Because… I’d really rather not,” he said, his gaze sweeping over the trio, a look of disgust twisting his features at the sticky substance clinging to them, leaving no doubt why he wanted to keep his distance.

Hyunjin shrugged with a casual indifference. “I’m fine,” he declared with confidence, rising to his feet and hauling Felix up with him. Felix’s groans of protest were cut short as he swayed dangerously, nearly collapsing from overwhelming dizziness. Jeongin, anticipating this disaster, lunged forward and caught him effortlessly, his arms encircling Felix’s waist with a firm grip that prevented him from crashing onto the unforgiving stone below.

“Put your arm around my—” Jeongin started to instruct, but his words were abruptly drowned out by Hyunjin’s irritated grunt.

“I got it,” the taller snapped, annoyance etched into his voice as he maneuvered closer to Felix. With a swift, unyielding motion, he spun Felix around, who, weakened and unable to put up a fight, found himself hoisted like a ragdoll. Hyunjin bent low, threw Felix’s body over his left shoulder with rough efficiency, then straightened briskly, seemingly unfazed by the added weight of the elf draped over him.

Felix let out a quiet yelp, discomfort and surprise mingling in his voice at being manhandled like a sack of potatoes. Hyunjin secured Felix in place by looping his left arm behind his knees.

“I beg your pardon!” Felix sputtered indignantly, his voice brimming with affront.

Hyunjin dismissed him with a steely resolve and charged forward, pursuing Jeongin, who stormed toward the infirmary, his pace unyielding, eyes fixed ahead, refusing to glance back.

Seungmin lingered on the terrace, observing the unfolding drama with a mix of amusement and disbelief etched on his face. Shaking his head, he released an exasperated breath that cut through the tense air.

Chapter Text

“Hello?!” Felix shouted, his voice tinged with irritation, hoping to be noticed. Yet, Jeongin and Hyunjin seemed oblivious to the elf's frustration, their attention elsewhere. Felix sighed, a dejected sound escaping his lips, as he clutched handfuls of fabric from the back of Hyunjin's shirt, desperately hoping that his grip would prevent any accidental drop. He noticed the shirt had ridden up along Hyunjin's back, revealing a damp stain of blood. Yet, where the injury had once pierced his flesh, only a faint scar remained, lighter than the surrounding skin, as if several weeks had passed since the wound was inflicted.

Felix pondered if he was responsible for this miraculous healing. He hadn’t realized until now that he could literally extract venom from someone. Perhaps his powers and abilities held more potential than he had previously understood. Then again, it was equally possible that they did not.

It was only when Hyunjin adjusted his hold, shifting his arm higher to support Felix's thighs, that Felix became acutely aware of the contact between their skin. It was a stark reminder that he was clad only in a knee-length nightshirt.

“Hyunjin!” he exclaimed, quickly reaching back to snatch Hyunjin's arm and remove it from where it brushed against his exposed lower thigh. The sudden movement caused him to tilt dangerously, forcing Hyunjin to rapidly reposition his arm even higher to prevent Felix from toppling, much to the elf’s dismay.

“Will you fucking be still?!” Hyunjin hissed, voice sharp enough to cut through the hollow corridor. Flickering torchlight danced across his furrowed brow as he spat, “If you make us both fall, I’ll personally feed you to a basilisk!”

Felix clutched the hem of his shirt tightly against his backside while his other hand maintained a firm grip on Hyunjin’s top, silently hoping he wasn't unintentionally revealing anything that shouldn’t be seen.

“I don’t know if you noticed,” he ground out, voice strained, “but I’m not exactly wearing any pants right now!” He glared up, teeth clenched, as Hyunjin continued to march onward without a hint of sympathy.

A low chuckle rumbled from the taller man. “I noticed.”

Without warning, Hyunjin’s hand smacked against Felix’s exposed thigh, the sting pulling a startled squeak from him.

Hyunjin let out a gleeful cackle at the elf's reaction, his laughter ringing out with a mischievous delight. With a deft movement, he adjusted his grip, sliding his hands lower and positioning them securely behind the elf's knees once again.

Jeongin cast a quick glance over his shoulder to catch the commotion, then turned back, striving to maintain his stoic demeanor, even though he was somewhat entertained by the two squabbling like children.

“You’re covered, Felix,” Jeongin called in a gentle tone that echoed off the hard walls.

Felix sagged a little, relief flooding his tight posture.

The words from Jeongin served their purpose, allowing Felix to ease his tense posture, though he still held onto the elder with a touch of anxiety. He decided to just persevere until they reached their destination, which now seemed a world away.

Felix stayed quiet as they continued, but after several strides, he began to slide slightly down Hyunjin's back. Hyunjin promptly readjusted him, pulling his legs, which caused Felix's shirt to inch up a bit. Felix didn't think much of it initially, but it kept happening, and each time, his shirt rode up a little more.

"You're doing that on purpose!" Felix shouted, his voice filled with accusation, clutching tightly to the hem of his shirt to avoid any unintended exposure.

Hyunjin couldn't suppress the chuckle that slipped from his lips at the accusation. "Doing what?" he retorted with a smug grin, offering no denial.

"Jeongin!" Felix shouted urgently to the doctor, desperately seeking intervention.

"Almost there!" Jeongin shouted with a bright cheerfulness, hoping that his feigned joy might somehow lighten the mood for the pair trailing behind, just as it always worked for him. He pondered how the king ever imagined this plan was wise. Silence followed for a few more steps until Hyunjin suddenly cried out in pain.

Felix, fed up with the immature antics, had bitten down fiercely on Hyunjin's back just below the shoulder blade without a moment's hesitation. The sharp taste of iron flooded his mouth, causing him to cringe.

For what felt like the hundredth time today, Jeongjin's stomach dropped like a stone as he spun around with lightning speed, instantly aware the elf had struck back. He sprinted toward the unfolding chaos, where time seemed to stretch like taffy.

In a heartbeat, Hyunjin had Felix in his grasp, flipping him with brutal precision and slamming him against the nearest rock wall of the hall. The impact was so violent it knocked the air from Felix's lungs, leaving him gasping helplessly. Hyunjin's hand clamped down on his throat like a vice, while his other hand braced fiercely against the wall beside Felix's head. The most terrifying sight was Hyunjin's eyes, normally a deep brown, now blazing with a molten red fury, as if consumed by living flames. His face was dangerously close, pupils shrunk to mere pinpricks, teeth bared like a wild beast ready to tear its prey apart. Felix's hands clung desperately to Hyunjin's wrist, instinctively fighting for breath.

The doctor froze, paralyzed by the knowledge that any attempt to intervene would be futile, yet he couldn't stand idly by. His voice erupted in a desperate shout, hurling the commander's name into the chaos with a raw urgency, hoping to break through the trance. But Hyunjin remained locked in his singular focus, oblivious to the world, blind and deaf to everything except the presence of Felix.

When he spoke, his voice rumbled like thunder, a menacing growl that was nearly unrecognizable as his own. His gaze locked onto the terrified eyes before him, burning with a fiery intensity. Words hissed through his tightly clenched teeth with such ferocity that droplets of spit shot out like venom, splattering against the elf's cheek.

"You dare disrespect me, you vile cretin?" he roared, his voice a venomous growl that echoed with impending doom. His eyes blazed with the promise of death as he leaned in closer, a menacing shadow looming over, every muscle in his body coiled like a predator ready to strike. "Have I been too soft on you?"

To Jeongin's shock, even as his airway was mercilessly constricted, Felix held his ground with an intense, unyielding, wide-eyed stare, his lip curling into a fierce snarl of his own. He forced out the word "Soft?" through gritted teeth, followed by a ragged, defiant scoff that dripped with disbelief and raw defiance.

The commander had been an insufferable bastard from the moment they met, and he refused to cower before him any longer, even if it meant staring death in the eyes. Even if things hadn't unfolded as he'd imagined, he'd hurled himself over the commander with a roaring dragon bearing down on them. Before that, he had endured the excruciating agony of basilisk venom on the commander's behalf. And he hadn't done it for any personal gain, but a sliver of gratitude or even a shred of respect was the least he deserved.

The tension was unbearable, like a tightly wound spring ready to snap. Something had to give, and it had to give now.

As Hyunjin hoisted the man into the air, Felix flailed desperately, his legs kicking and his hands clawing uselessly at Hyunjin's iron grip, gasping frantically for the breath that eluded him. Jeongin stood paralyzed, terror rooting him to the spot, every nerve raw and exposed after the day's relentless barrage. He shook uncontrollably, sobs tearing from his throat as he screamed Hyunjin's name over and over, each cry fractured by the convulsions of his own despair.

Only Felix, suspended in this fevered moment, noticed the solitary tear that began its slow descent from Hyunjin's eye. It traced a silent path down the curve of Hyunjin's cheekbone, only to be abruptly severed by the unyielding edge of his clenched jaw, leaving behind a glistening trail.

In that single heartbeat, time seemed to fracture, each second stretching into eternity. An inexplicable sensation gripped Felix's soul, a primal instinct whispering that the figure holding him aloft was no longer Hyunjin but something otherworldly, something monstrous.

The reason behind his feelings was utterly unfathomable, a mind-numbing mystery, for this was merely the inevitable climax of the relentless hostility Hyunjin had been exuding already. Hyunjin, a name whispered in terror across realms, was a merciless demon of unparalleled cruelty.

Why did Felix feel as though the world was splitting apart, two voices hammering into his skull, each clashing and competing for dominance, while his gaze locked onto a pair of eyes so mismatched they seemed to tear at the very fabric of reality?

Summoning every fragment of his waning strength, Felix slammed his palm against Hyunjin's forehead. His eyes blazed a ferocious green glow, locking onto Hyunjin's with a defiant intensity. Teeth gritted, they both grappled with a force beyond comprehension, their bodies taut with exertion, faces contorted with excruciating pain, the air around them thrumming with the sound of their tormented grunts. This was a battle not just of flesh, but of wills, a struggle that threatened to consume them both.

Jeongin was reduced to a state of incoherent sobbing, paralyzed by the certainty that this confrontation would end in their deaths.

Felix, with every ounce of his dwindling strength, summoned his power, dredging up every buried negative emotion within Hyunjin. The air crackled with tension until an intense, bright emerald aura exploded from beneath Felix's hand, hurling Hyunjin violently across the air. He crashed into the opposite wall with a bone-jarring impact before crumpling to the floor in a motionless heap.

Felix crashed heavily onto the cold, unforgiving ground, each gasp for air searing his lungs as though they were aflame.

Jeongin's heart thundered like a war drum in his chest as he sprinted towards Hyunjin, terror clawing at his insides with the horrifying thought that the elf had killed him. But then, slicing through the chaos, he caught it—a ragged, strained breath that pierced the air like a lifeline, a desperate glimmer of hope in the midst of despair.

Felix barely managed to wrench to the side just in time to witness the doctor drop to his knees beside Hyunjin, who was curled into a tight, trembling ball on the ground. The air was torn by Hyunjin's heart-shredding sobs, unlike anything Felix had ever encountered. These cries were worlds apart from the earlier screams of anguish—they were not the cries of a man being tortured alive by pain, but the haunting wails of a soul hollowed out by unspeakable torment, a dam of grief and despair that had finally shattered, releasing a flood of misery so profound it defied tears.

The doctor, too, was swept away by the tide of emotion, crying out and sobbing as he gathered Hyunjin into his arms, rocking them both with a desperate rhythm. He murmured fervent, soothing words into Hyunjin's hairline, his fingers brushing tenderly through Hyunjin's hair in a futile attempt to mend what seemed irreparably broken.

The last thing Felix heard before the heavy cloak of unconsciousness enveloped him was a fractured, shouted apology, mingled with a panicked, desperate cry.

"D—Did I kill him?!"

Chapter Text

Felix clawed his way back to consciousness, feeling a bizarre clarity despite his body screaming in agony as if it had been hurled off a cliff, beaten relentlessly, and then dragged up only to be flung down again with brutal force. His eyes remained stubbornly shut until the crescendo of voices forced them open, cutting through his reluctance.

"You can't fixate on things beyond your control, Innie," a familiar voice rang out, weary yet empathetic, resonating with fatigue.

It was the voice of the man who had plummeted from the terrace with Jeongin. Memories surged back, crashing over Felix like a relentless tide.

He found himself nestled in a bed, cloaked in pristine nightwear, with an IV pole looming to his left, dripping life-sustaining fluids into his veins. His gaze swept the cavernous room, eerily empty of patients except for him, in a space designed for at least fifty. A cold realization gripped him—something had gone catastrophically wrong during the transport from the terrace.

Memories surged through his mind with a ferocity that left him breathless: Hyunjin's grip like a vice around his throat, those eyes burning with a hellish red glow, the voice that roared like thunder, shaking his very core, and the overwhelming surge of power it demanded to hurl him away with sheer magical force.

An inward groan escaped him, a silent acknowledgment of his dire predicament, his heart pounding with a desperate hope that everyone else was unscathed.

Jeongin was stationed a few feet away, feverishly scribbling on a clipboard until another man approached, gently extracting it from Jeongin's trembling grasp.

"Seungmin!" Jeongin hissed, frustration lacing his words.

Ah, Seungmin, Felix thought, intrigue sparking about the man's connection to Jeongin, amidst the chaos swirling around him.

"Let's go out for drinks later, yeah? Just us two. How does that sound?" Seungmin suggested, his voice brimming with hope.

Jeongin scoffed, incredulous. "Are you seriously asking me on a date right now?"

Seungmin shrugged, feigning innocence. "Don't you want to catch up?"

Jeongin's expression twisted into one of utter disbelief, as if he couldn't comprehend the audacity of Seungmin's suggestion. He shook his head, his disbelief laced with biting sarcasm. "You are seriously choosing to do this right now when your brother is in such a state?"

"He'll be fine," Seungmin replied, though his voice wavered with uncertainty. "He always is."

Jeongin's jaw dropped in shock, his voice rising to a shout. "He almost died! Twice!"

"But he didn't, and he's completely fine now! He almost dies at least once a week! Meanwhile, you haven't slept or eaten, and you're scratching your skin off!" Seungmin seized Jeongin's forearms, his grip firm as he pulled back the sleeve to reveal the raw truth.

Felix observed the younger man's long sleeves, noting the ugly scars hidden beneath—a testament to his anxious habit. Felix winced internally, his heart heavy with sympathy for the kind doctor.

"I'm fine, Seungmin!" Jeongin snapped, yanking his arm away with a surge of anger. "If you're so worried about me, go grab me a bite to eat or something! Don't play with my feelings. If you want me to eat, just say it! Don't try to fool me into it under the guise of anything more meaningful because you... you've hurt me enough..." His voice cracked, tears threatening to spill as he fought to maintain control.

There was an undeniable tension crackling in the air between the two. Felix felt as if he were intruding on an intensely private confrontation that he had no right to witness, even though he had stumbled upon it unintentionally. But the revelation that hit him hardest—was Seungmin actually Hyunjin’s brother as well? Or had he misunderstood entirely?

Seungmin's nod carried the weight of sorrow, his sigh heavy and filled with resignation as he gently patted Jeongin's shoulder. He forced a smile, one that was meant to be empathetic but faltered without the usual dimples, betraying his uncertainty. “Sorry…”

Jeongin’s demeanor shifted to one of immediate remorse. He hadn’t intended to lash out like that, but exhaustion and stress were gnawing at his patience, fraying his nerves.

Before the dialogue could escalate, the rustling of sheets on the adjacent bed snapped both men’s focus sharply to the side.

Felix’s eyes darted over, realizing with a jolt that his assumption had been wrong—he was not the only patient in the room. The bed beside him was not empty; it was occupied by a figure buried so deeply under a mountain of thick blankets that any trace of humanity was hidden, until now. A few rebellious spikes of ash brown hair poked through, accompanied by a familiar groan that confirmed the identity beneath the fabric fortress.

Jeongin and Seungmin froze, their breaths collectively held, eyes trained intently on the slumbering figure. Only when they were sure the patient remained asleep did they release a tense, audible sigh, relief washing over them like a tide.

“When does the sedation wear off?” Seungmin asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze never leaving the bed’s resident.

“I’m not certain. If his biology were typical, he'd be subdued all day long. But with Jinnie, nothing is ever predictable,” Jeongin replied, his tone equally subdued.

“And then what?” Seungmin pressed, his voice tinged with a mix of dread and anticipation.

Jeongin hummed thoughtfully, his mind a whirl of concern. "Waking him with a sedative reversal agent might thrust him back into a fit, so we must wait until he rouses naturally and gauge if his mood has settled. I wanted to consult with Minho first, but with his whereabouts still a complete mystery..." His frown deepened, unease etched into every line of his face, the distress of the missing king gnawing at him like a relentless beast.

Seungmin pondered briefly before daring to voice his idea. "Has anyone tried knocking on doors?" he asked with a curious edge.

Jeongin's eyes flickered, shifting from curiosity to sudden realization in an instant. "At council yesterday, he hinted at... having relations with someone… but he is far too peculiar a man to spend the night in some woman's bed," he admitted, his frown deepening, a puzzle without a solution.

Seungmin snorted with disbelief. "You're kidding, right? Minho? Having 'relations'? Are we even talking about the same person?" He leaned in, his voice dripping with insinuation, a sly grin spreading across his lips.

Jeonjin shot him a look that bristled with irritation and heartbreak, a complex weave of emotions that spoke of longing and unspoken truths, all colliding in a silent storm.

“I certainly hope so because I would like to believe at least one in the miserable lot of you is capable of some semblance of a love life, even if only a fleeting physical interaction..." He spat with venom, the words laced with a bitterness that masked a deeper sadness as a tear betrayed him, slipping down his cheek. He viciously wiped it away, leaving a red streak.

The silence was suffocating, a heavy weight pressing down until Seungmin shattered it with a loud, deliberate clearing of his throat.

“Is that what you want?” he asked, his voice a gentle probe amidst the tension.

Jeongin turned sharply, his head cocked slightly as he sniffled, “What?”

Seungmin rolled his eyes, frustration building, and took a bold step forward.

"A fleeting physical interaction? Is that what you want?" His voice was honeyed with sincerity, and his hand reached out gingerly to tuck a strand of hair behind Jeongin’s ear.

Jeongin’s eyes widened in disbelief, as if Seungmin had sprouted extra heads. “Are you serious?”

Seungmin scoffed, his indignation palpable as he dropped his hand and drew himself up to his full height. “If it would make you stop hating me—"

Jeongin roared, cutting through the air with urgent force. “Stop!” The word lashed out, making Seungmin flinch. “I don’t hate you! I’ve never hated you, you fucking idiot! You know that as well as I do! You know that I love you beyond control, and that is the problem! YOU left ME, remember?! And now, what, you think that a quick fuck is going to make me want to be around you again?! When you don’t even want it in the first place?! You think that, magically, my heartbreak will heal and my emotions will vanish while fucking an emotionless shell of a person who doesn't know how to love?!" His voice was a tempest, the words tumbling out aggressively, tears now streaming unchecked, his face contorted with raw pain. “You’re such a fucking idiot, Seungmin!”

With a surge of fury, Jeongin snatched the clipboard from Seungmin’s hands and hurled it against the wall with all his might. It crashed with a thunderous clatter, fragments skittering across the floor as he collapsed into his hands, sobbing hysterically. “Get out!” he cried, his voice hoarse and broken, an anguished finger pointing toward the door.

Seungmin didn't hesitate for another second. He backed away with an urgency that bordered on desperation, turning sharply to exit as if the very air was choking him. He sped out of the bay, but not before Felix caught sight of the torrents of tears cascading down Seungmin's otherwise stoic face, a vivid testament to the impact of Jeongin's words. Perhaps Seungmin wasn't the heartless man Jeongin had thought him to be.

Inside, Felix's stomach churned with a sickening unease that defied logic or reason. Jeongin had shown himself to be a good and kind man, and Felix felt a profound sense of pity for him. Jeongin deserved happiness, but for reasons beyond Felix's knowledge, Seungmin couldn't reciprocate his affections.

For the briefest instant, Felix felt a burning desire to intervene, to somehow find a way to help both men, even though it was not his place. But there were more pressing matters at hand.

The doctor was clearly avoiding waking Hyunjin before speaking with his elder brother, and though Felix didn't know why, he sensed the gravity of the situation.

The doctor was now a huddled figure, perched atop a stool in the corner of the bay, his body wracked with uncontrollable sobs. Each gasp for breath was a battle; his attempts at steadying himself through breathing exercises were failing miserably. Felix felt the urgency mount as time slipped away.

He cleared his throat with a forceful loudness to snap Jeongin out of his immobility, as if the very air had thickened around him, anchoring him in place. Jeongin jolted upright at the sound and swiftly moved to Felix's bedside, urgency written in every line of his face.

"Felix! Welcome back to the land of the living," Jeongin exclaimed, his voice warm but his face a battlefield of raw emotion, with eyes swollen and reddened, and a nose clogged with unshed tears and turmoil.

Driven by an urgent need to alleviate Jeongin's silent suffering, Felix, though frail, reached out a hand to clasp the doctor's trembling ones, which lay like fragile leaves on the guard rail that separated them. His grip was firm yet gentle, a lifeline in the storm.

Uncertain if his gesture could truly mend any wounds, Felix had observed enough to know that Jeongin's heart was a wellspring of profound love and compassion, overflowing with care for everyone around him.

Jeongin's eyes widened in surprise before they met Felix's with a glassy, vulnerable gaze. Despite the turmoil within, he managed a shaky smile, a flicker of gratitude amidst the tempest.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that," Jeongin admitted, his voice a coarse whisper, the words stumbling out as he cringed inwardly at the rawness of his confession to a man who was, perhaps, equally scarred by the cruel edges of love.

Felix shook his head with gentle insistence. “My mother once said that unshed tears will eventually drown your heart," he advised, his voice carrying the weight of wisdom passed down through years and generations. "We may have only just met, but if you ever need someone to talk to, please, know that my door will always be open for you without judgment," he promised, his voice steady and sincere, accompanying his words with a soft, reassuring pat on Jeongin's hand before withdrawing, his smile weary but genuine.

Jeongin was momentarily struck speechless by Felix's unexpected kindness. The tales he'd heard of elven kind portrayed them as cold and calculating, yet here was Felix, defying every stereotype with his warmth.

“Thank you,” Jeongin finally responded, his voice a tender murmur as he wiped the lingering tears from his eyes with his sleeve, the gesture a silent vow of gratitude and newfound hope.

Felix had already managed to piece together the king’s whereabouts, but he was torn between the fear of ratting out his best friend or the ominous prospect of confronting the beast resting temporarily dormant in the next bed. With a mix of urgency and hesitation, he reminded himself that they were in Levanter, where sex was seemingly far more open and casual. This realization offered some comfort, yet the decision remained fraught with anxiety, as he didn't want to betray his friend, leaving him caught in a web of conflicting emotions.

Felix hesitated, drawing in a shaky breath before finally speaking. "I think... I might know where His Majesty is, but... I need your promise... to keep this just between us and them." His voice faltered as he coughed dryly, trying to clear his throat from the discomfort caused by constriction. The man before him had shown him kindness and warmth, yet Felix couldn't risk the deep bond he had with Jisung, his lifelong friend, practically a brother. He was bound by loyalty to his friend, determined to express the importance of Jisung's safety.

Jeongin paused completely, his brow furrowed, as he contemplated Felix's proposal, possibly evaluating its worthiness.

Felix adopted a serious look to emphasize the gravity of the situation, clutching the railing at the side of his bed tightly.

"If you dare fail to remain discreet and my advisor lands in any trouble with the court, I will drain every last drop of life energy from your wretched form until you're nothing but a hollow husk, condemned to watch life slip by, paralyzed in a prison of your own despair," Felix vowed with a venomous edge, his voice a tempest of lethal promise. Though he wielded exaggeration like a sword, his conviction was terrifyingly real. He had never wielded such dark power and perhaps never would, but the mere thought of Jisung suffering political or military retaliation filled him with a dread so profound that the monstrous threat felt almost within reach. Maybe he possessed a strength unknown to him, one capable of fulfilling such a dire oath. Who could say for sure?

Jeongin, however, recoiled, his body trembling with fear at the menacing threat, swallowing hard to keep the rising panic at bay.

"If Minho is involved in—" Jeongin began with a tremor in his voice, his eyes flickering nervously towards Hyunjin's bed to ensure he was still asleep. Once reassured, he locked his gaze onto Felix, his voice a strained whisper. "If you tell me Minho is entangled in something nefarious or treasonous, I cannot promise to keep that secret, Felix!" he implored, his desperation etched in every line of his face, his body tense and restless. "If he's betrayed our people or conspired against his own family, I cannot—"

Felix cut him off with an urgent wave, his voice rising to a fervent pitch. "No, no. Nothing like that! What I’m saying is… um, you might want to investigate my advisor’s chambers—Jisung," he suggested cryptically, his eyes darting away as if afraid of what they might reveal.

Without a moment's pause, Jeongin surged towards the door with determined urgency, barking orders over his shoulder. "Stay here and do not touch anything! If Hyunjin stirs, alert the guards immediately!" He commanded, his tone sharp and unyielding, as he rushed out without a backward glance. Felix was left alone with Hyunjin once more, the weight of silence pressing down. Guards stood vigil just beyond the threshold, but after what Felix had endured, he doubted they would be any match if Hyunjin awoke. Only Felix's magic had proven capable of containing… whatever that monster was.

Jeongin stormed through the castle halls with determination, his footsteps echoing like a drumbeat until he caught sight of a familiar silhouette lurking in a shadowy nook near an arched window overlooking the distant mountains. The figure was haloed by the blazing sunrise, enhancing his ethereal beauty to an almost unbearable level that shattered Jeongin’s heart anew.

His pace quickened, a futile attempt to quell the tightening vise gripping his chest, but Seungmin had already locked eyes with him long before he could make his escape. With a sharp inhale, Seungmin pushed off the wall with a forceful thrust and faced him head-on.

"Can we ta—?" Seungmin began, his voice edged with urgency, but Jeongin cut him off like a blade.

"Not right now," Jeongin snapped, his words slicing through the air as he brushed past the other man in a whirlwind of haste.

"Innie, please—" Seungmin's voice trembled with desperation as he reached for Jeongin's wrist, but his grasp fell short when Jeongin whirled around, fury blazing in his eyes. The venom in his glare silenced Seungmin instantly.

"I have far more serious matters to attend to at the moment," Jeongin barked, his tone as unforgiving as steel. He turned on his heel, striding further down the hall, yet he felt the persistent shadow of Seungmin trailing silently behind him, ignoring his plea for solitude. “Is stalking your new pastime?" he spat over his shoulder, his words dripping with sarcasm.

The only response was the rhythmic clatter of boots against stone until Seungmin's voice broke the silence once more. "Please," he implored, his voice raw with emotion. “I didn’t mean to disrespect you earlier. I wasn’t trying to toy with your feelings. I am genuinely concerned about you."

Despite the earnestness in Seungmin's voice, Jeongin could only laugh bitterly, refusing to believe the surreal reality unfolding before him. “You have a dangerously unstable brother sedated in the infirmary and another seemingly preoccupied and nowhere to be found... Yet you’re worried about me, a grown man who can handle himself?!” he retorted, incredulity ringing in his voice.

More tears threatened to spill from Jeongin's eyes, a searing torrent barely held back by sheer will.

“You say that as if it’s a revelation. Minho rarely knows the days of the week; he lives in his own bubble and mind palace of fantasies, and Hyunjin has been dangerously unstable since the day he was discovered,” Seungmin countered, his voice steady yet tinged with frustration. "They will be fine as always."

Jeongin spun around with fury blazing in his eyes. "Hyunjin is married now, Seungmin! It will be catastrophic if we return the Feloran king’s son to him in a casket! What will become of your brothers then? What fate awaits the entire kingdom when we face the wrath of an army composed of the most formidable beings to ever walk the earth, all because we murdered their ‘Ray of Sunlight’? Did your tutors teach you nothing?" His voice thundered with outrage, reverberating through the hall and drawing the curious gaze of workers and nobles alike, forcing the doctor to drop his volume significantly. “Were you not present when… Fuck! And Minho…? Fuck,” he exhaled, his voice trembling with intensity before whispering, "Just follow me."

Jeongin whirled around with a sudden urgency, vanishing down another hallway. Seungmin hesitated for a heartbeat, then sprinted to keep up. Upon reaching Jisung’s door, Seungmin demanded to know why Jeongin had led him there. Jeongin ignored him, knocking sharply and calling out, “Han Jisung? It’s Doctor Yang Jeongin. I require an audience with His Majesty, King Minho, if you know—“

Seungmin’s eyes rolled skyward with disbelief. He couldn't fathom how some random acquaintance of the elf prince could possibly know anything about his elusive eldest brother's whereabouts. Knowing Minho, he was likely either lost in pursuit of shiny rocks or traipsing after some stray cat.

With a determined grip, Seungmin seized the door handle, ready to burst in and prove Minho’s absence so they could finally find a place to discuss matters. But as the door swung open effortlessly, he was met with the unmistakable sight of Minho’s shoes scattered carelessly in the entryway.

Without a second thought, Seungmin stepped inside, leaving a bewildered Jeongin rooted to the spot.

The doctor eventually followed, whispering urgently, “Seungmin!”

But as Seungmin rounded the corner and laid eyes on the bed, he was paralyzed, his body locking up in an instant as his eyes flew open wide with sheer shock.

Intrigued, Jeongin squeezed past Seungmin to get a better view, only to gasp softly at the scene before him.

Two bodies lay entwined beneath the silk covers, their chests rising and falling in a synchronized rhythm that seemed almost orchestrated. Minho was nestled deeply, his arms coiled tightly around another figure, the two of them fitting together like the final, perfect pieces of a complex puzzle.

Jeongin had never seen the king so serene, so utterly undisturbed in slumber, and it was shocking—a revelation that etched a rare, content expression across Minho's face. Normally, a slight scowl guarded his features, a resting face that intimidated all who dared to look. But now, the tranquility softened his visage, and Jeongin felt an unfamiliar warmth of happiness for him. Yet, the identity of the man cradled so intimately remained uncertain, though it was fair to assume it was the inhabitant of the room they now invaded. It baffled Jeongin why Minho would share his bed, especially with someone from a foreign kingdom and culture.

While Jeongin’s heart softened for the elder, Seungmin was a storm of agitation. "Bullshit!" he bellowed, snatching a decorative cushion from a nearby chair and hurling it with force at Minho's head.

Jeongin seized Seungmin's shoulder with urgency, pulling him back with a sharp tug. "Stop that! He'll wake up!" he hissed sternly, his voice a razor's edge, but Seungmin shrugged off his hold with defiance.

"Isn’t that the point!?" Seungmin's voice boomed, his anger a tangible force, earning only Jeongin's fiercest glare, potent enough to cut steel.

At the impact, Minho stirred, grogginess clouding his eyes as they blinked open in bewilderment.

“Hey, asshole!” Seungmin shouted venomously, striding to the side of the bed with purpose. He seized a fistful of the sheet with a vicious yank, stripping it away from the entwined couple and exposing more of their unclothed bodies—a brazen confirmation of suspicions already whispered, drawing a sharp, scandalized gasp from Jeongin at Seungmin’s audacity.

Caught in this rude awakening, the couple found themselves stripped of privacy, Seungmin’s voice rising to a piercing pitch as he dropped the sheet, shaking his hand as if it had been scorched by flames.

“Eww! Fuck! What did I just— Eww!!! I touched something sticky!” Seungmin yelled, voice dripping with revulsion as he recoiled rapidly, slamming into a bewildered Jeongin. Desperate to rid himself of the residue, he attempted to smear it on Jeongin, triggering a frantic response from the startled doctor.

Jeongin shrieked in horror, his voice a high-pitched wail as he battled Seungmin off, practically shoving him away in a frenzy, "Oh god! Eww! Get it away from me!"

The lovers, thrust into this chaotic whirlwind, snapped to attention. They bolted upright, yanking the sheet over themselves with a swift, defensive motion to maintain a shred of dignity. Jisung, mortified and burning with shame, retreated beneath the covers, his face a fiery crimson as he sought refuge from the embarrassing intrusion.

Meanwhile, Minho watched the spectacle unfold with a smirk, his amusement evident as his brother and the doctor squabbled like petulant children.

Seungmin, unable to contain his revulsion, gagged and stumbled toward the bathroom, leaving the flustered Jeongin to face Minho alone.

The doctor stood frozen, eyes wide, staring at his friend and ruler, struggling to articulate his thoughts. His mouth opened and closed silently, words eluding him until finally, he murmured in a barely audible whisper, "The door wasn't locked..."

From the bathroom, Seungmin's voice erupted like a cannon, "I let us in because I didn't believe it!"

Minho, one arm draped casually over his knee, gestured with an air of nonchalance, clearly relishing the chaos. His eyes sparkled with mirth as Jisung dared to peek over the sheets, only to vanish beneath them in an instant, retreating like a frightened child at the briefest flicker of eye contact.

"I can explain!" came a desperate, muffled cry from beside him, and Minho couldn't help but smile with a mix of affection and exasperation.

Seungmin's head emerged through the doorway, his lip curling in a scornful sneer. "Let me guess—you found your clothes unbearably uncomfortable, so you decided to strip naked, only to have the unfortunate luck of slipping and landing ass-first onto his cock," he drawled with biting sarcasm.

Jeongin's jaw dropped, shock coursing through him like a tidal wave. He wanted nothing more than to vanish into thin air, utterly consumed by the overwhelming embarrassment and the second-hand humiliation of the chaotic scene unfolding before him.

Minho's smirk twisted into amusement. "Technically, mouth first."

Jeongin felt the world spin, nearly fainting as a crimson flush surged to his face. The lewd remark, delivered with casual audacity and not a hint of shame, struck him hard. It wasn't the topic itself—he was no stranger to dealing with all manner of sexual issues. No, it was the fact that Minho, who had always sneered at even the thought of courtship, was the one to say it. And the biggest jolt of all was that this exchange played out right in front of the person who occupied his every thought and desire: Kim Seungmin.

Hearing the word ‘cock’ escape Seungmin’s flawless lips was nearly his undoing, especially after the exhausting events of the prior day.

Jeongin let out a petulant whine, burying his face in his hands, overwhelmed and mortified.

Seungmin rolled his eyes with exaggerated exasperation, finally striding confidently out of the bathroom. He dried his hands with a flourish, crossing his arms as he locked eyes with his brother, a sharp edge in his gaze.

"Congratulations. Is this what Levanter is all about now? Crossbreeding with elves? Will I be tossed into a bed with one next, just like Jinnie was?!" Seungmin's voice dripped with sarcasm as he flung his hands up, his head shaking in theatrical disappointment.

Minho's smile faded as he spoke in a quiet yet authoritative voice. "Mind your tone, Seungmin. You know not what you speak of!" he reprimanded sharply, each word laced with a warning.

As the brothers seemed on the verge of a shouting match, Jeongin glanced anxiously at the figure in the bed beside him, still hidden under the covers of a makeshift blanket fort. He could tell from the rapid rise and fall of the comforter that the person beneath was taking quick, nervous breaths, likely in a state of panic.

"Quiet!" Jeongin commanded firmly, snapping Seungmin back to the present and gesturing toward the huddled form in the bed farthest from them.

Minho looked over with concern, noticing the same signs Jeongin had. Grasping the comforter, the king gently pulled it back, frowning when he saw Jisung clutching his chest as if in pain. Jisung tried to take deep, measured breaths, but each attempt became increasingly erratic.

"Jeongin!" Minho called out, trying to mask his alarm.

The young doctor quickly rushed forward, positioning himself on the opposite side of the bed, facing Jisung's panic-stricken face.

Minho wrapped his arms tightly around Jisung from behind, placing one hand flat on his chest to feel the intense heaving beneath his fingers.

"What's happening to him?! Help him!! Please!" Minho pleaded desperately, holding the younger man tightly as Jisung's eyes remained shut and sweat beaded on his forehead.

Jeongin checked Jisung's pulse, reflexes, and pupils, nodding satisfied before quickly reassuring Minho. "He's experiencing hyperventilation, Your Majesty, nothing fatal.”

“Like a panic attack?” Seungmin clarified from the side, confused as to why he would succumb to such a thing.

Jeongin nodded. "Most likely exacerbated by such a rude awakening and invasion of privacy." He directed an accusatory glare at Seungmin, which Minho quickly echoed before returning their attention to Jisung. His breathing was gradually calming down as his panic subsided into gentle sobs, tears running down his flushed cheeks.

Minho's face contorted in anguish, his eyes brimming with sorrow. His lover's cries pierced the air, raw and unrestrained, with each sob wrenching through the silence as the storm of their emotion began to subside. Minho cradled Jisung tenderly, swaying him gently from side to side, his lips brushing against the nape of Jisung's neck with a cascade of delicate, feather-light kisses. "Shh, shh. Relax, honey," Minho murmured, his voice a balm against the turmoil.

Jeongin watched, overwhelmed by the profound tenderness unfolding before him, his heart swelling with an overpowering surge of adoration and joy for the two before him. Even Seungmin stood silent, his mouth agape as if words hovered on the brink of escape but were swallowed by the enormity of the moment. He had never witnessed his brother display such tenderness towards anyone outside their family—let alone a foreigner he had only recently met.

A gnawing dread twisted in Seungmin's gut, haunted by the suspicion that Feloran magic was weaving its sinister spell, ensnaring their leader, their king, his brother. To Seungmin, there could be no other explanation for this bewildering scene, and he steeled himself with grim resolve to protect his kin at any cost—even if it meant standing against his own flesh and blood.

Envy coursed through his veins like a raging fire, a fierce longing ignited as he watched Minho envelop this stranger in a loving embrace. Memories of how he and Jeongin once held each other like that clawed at his heart. But he had long since resigned himself to the belief that he was beyond deserving of such affection. Life had piled responsibilities on him like an unyielding avalanche, leaving no room for the frivolities of romance. He felt unworthy of such luxuries, haunted by the paralyzing fear of inevitable loss. He had seen the relentless grip of grief on his mother, how it ravaged her, and he swore he would not succumb to that same fate. Why entertain dreams when they felt like cruel fantasies? Without the promise of lasting joy, it all seemed like a futile endeavor. Why waste time on fleeting emotions when he could channel his energy into more meaningful pursuits elsewhere?

Yet now he craved with an overwhelming desperation to embrace the doctor once more, to feel that profound connection, as Minho did with his current partner, holding him with such tender care despite their brief acquaintance.

A solitary tear carved its way down his cheek as he watched Jeongin's tender demeanor work tirelessly to pull Jisung from the abyss of his breakdown. His mind raced with a tumultuous storm of "what ifs," each one crashing into him with the force of a tidal wave.

"Am I going to be punished?" Jisung whimpered, his voice strained and trembling, as he clutched his sides with desperate fingers, his grip a vice over the lower ribs.

Minho's heart twisted at the sight, understanding that Jisung's panic was rooted in a visceral fear of punishment, possibly from being caught in an act of indiscretion with him, the king. What horrors had Felora inflicted to make Jisung react with such terror?

Without a second thought, Minho reached out, brushing aside the tangled strands of Jisung's hair to lock eyes with him, his gaze firm and unwavering, a beacon of sincerity.

"If anyone in Levanter dares to lay a hand on you, they will forfeit their own," he declared with an unflinching seriousness, his words a promise of protection.

Jisung's cheeks flushed a soft pink, a mix of embarrassment and vulnerability washing over him, though Minho thought there was no need for such shyness after the night they shared. Yet here Jisung was, reverting to a bashful demeanor as if the night hadn't happened.

"No one has to know anyway," Jeongin murmured from the other side of the bed, his voice a quiet thread of comfort, his eyes flickering with concern and empathy for Jisung.

"Why did you two come bursting in here uninvited like that?" Minho's voice turned icy as he addressed them, his hand gently wiping the dampness from Jisung's cheek, his gaze a piercing lance directed at the doctor.

Jeongin blinked rapidly, as though roused from a trance, his words stumbling over each other.

Seungmin looked away, his face shadowed with reluctance. "Hyunjin," he muttered, the name a bombshell that froze Minho, his entire being suddenly honed in on the mention of his younger brother.

"What about Hyunjin?" Minho's voice was taut with dread, each syllable a tremor of urgency.

“Where do I start? Uhhh... He went hunting alone yesterday, as he always does when he’s drowning in his feelings. But he encountered a basilisk, got bitten by damn thing, came inches from death—lost blood, so much blood. He needed a transfusion, but you were nowhere to be found, so I had to step in. Uhhh… Felix nearly got eaten—wait, I’m jumping ahead. Let’s rewind. Apparently, Felix has siphoning powers and helped Hyunjin through the extraction of a basilisk fang, but the venom magically seeped into him, and fast forward to after he was almost devoured. He ended up vomiting buckets of venom everywhere, then seemed okay, but on the way to the infirmary…” Seungmin’s voice faltered, his eyes darting anxiously around the room, unable to meet his brother’s gaze.

Jisung shot upright at the mention of Felix using his powers and narrowly escaping being eaten, his face contorted with panic for his best friend. He scrambled to get out of bed in a frenzy, trying to cover himself to stave off further embarrassment, but froze when Minho seized him by the hips to keep him from fleeing his grasp.

“What?” Minho pressed, bewildered by Seungmin’s sudden silence.

“Hyunjin had an episode,” Jeongin disclosed with a grave edge.

Minho’s expression crumbled as if the universe was crashing down around him, and dread seized his heart as he asked with desperate urgency, "And the elf?”

Chapter Text

The room was suffocatingly silent, an oppressive quiet so profound that Felix's ears were assaulted by a piercing, incessant ringing. Every so often, his roommate would let out a grunt, each sound slicing through the stillness and wrenching Felix's attention with a jolt. His heart pounded in his chest as he cast frantic, sidelong glances, dreading the moment his roommate might awaken.

Felix's anxiety surged with an overwhelming force, each silent second stretching into eternity. His mind raced frantically, consumed by a relentless storm of questions about the chaotic wreck his life had spiraled into, each thought a desperate plea to understand how he'd been ensnared in this relentless nightmare.

He tortured himself with the thought that if he had just swallowed his words and submitted to silence on their wedding night, maybe everything wouldn't have spiraled into the catastrophic chaos that consumed the previous day.

Or perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that he uncovered Hyunjin’s demons sooner rather than later, shattering any illusions and saving himself from spiraling into a dangerous mysticism, the kind that might have deceived him into believing Hyunjin was anything less than utterly monstrous.

Desperate for relief, he plunged into meditation with fierce determination, slamming his eyes shut and forcing every muscle to release its iron grip. He battled to banish the storm of negativity swirling within, seeking solace in the calm beyond the chaos.

Felix's chest heaved desperately before gradually slowing, the tension in his body easing just a fraction until a malevolent presence loomed over him, snapping his eyes open with a jolt as alarm bells clanged violently in his mind. Hyunjin stood like a ghost beside his bed, his face an unreadable mask, causing Felix to gasp and scramble frantically to the bed's farthest edge. No rustle of sheets, no whisper of footsteps had indicated Hyunjin's approach.

Hyunjin remained unfazed, his lack of reaction sending a nauseating wave of terror through Felix's gut. He was convinced that this man intended to finish what he'd failed to achieve the night before. The threat hung palpably in the air, yet Felix refrained from summoning the guards. No innocent would suffer due to his husband's seething hatred. That was his cross to bear alone.

Resigned, Felix squeezed his eyes shut and lay as still as a corpse, bracing for the final blow, praying it would be swift, a mercy compared to the brutal strangulation he'd endured the previous night. His stomach twisted violently as he heard the rail slide back, the mattress sinking under the weight beside him. He dared not glance or flinch. If death was imminent, let his soul at least find peace in not provoking his killer further.

Yet, with the bed's meager size, he couldn't ignore when Hyunjin slipped beneath the covers, pressing close beside him. Hyunjin lay on his side, legs bent, hands tucked under his own cheek. Their bodies weren't fully flush together, but neither were they distant enough for Felix's liking. It was a constricting arrangement, both men awkwardly jostling for space on a mattress that wasn't meant to hold two grown men.

Though Felix felt uneasy and unhappy about their closeness, he couldn't help but notice the warmth coming from the other man, who was clad in a medical gown similar to his own. The gown had a subtle scent of freshly dried linens. Intrigued, Felix cracked his eyelids open a bit to glance at Hyunjin beside him.

Hyunjin's eyes were sealed shut, twitching violently beneath his dark lashes, as he lay there, supposedly at rest. But Felix wasn't fooled for a second. The sporadic furrowing of Hyunjin's brows, the sudden flinches across his features, and the clenching of his fists betrayed anything but peace. It was as if Hyunjin had never truly known the embrace of sleep, his body a battlefield of restless turmoil.

Felix's mind raced, desperately hoping that Hyunjin had somehow stumbled here in a state of delirium, perhaps sleepwalking. How else could he explain Hyunjin's presence alongside the very man he had tried to kill just hours prior? Whether it was madness or some twisted fate that brought Hyunjin here, Felix chose to remain still. His instincts screamed at him to flee, to seek the safety of others, but he was captivated by the haunting allure of Hyunjin's presence.

This man, a creature of chaos and violence, possessed an inexplicable beauty. His skin, though marked by battle scars, told tales of a harsh life. A jagged scar carved a path through his brow, adding a fierce character to his already striking visage. Dark shadows hung beneath his eyes, a testament to the grueling suffering he had endured the day before. Yet, even as his face twisted in the grip of nightmares, he exuded a fragile innocence in his vulnerability.

Felix's heart pounded with a mixture of dread and hope. Was this a cunning ruse by Hyunjin, a trap to make Felix drop his guard before striking? Or was it a genuine, uncontrollable act of his unconscious mind?

Just then, a quiet, throaty growl rumbled from deep within Hyunjin's throat. Felix's fear spiked, yet the sound, more akin to a puppy's growl, softened the edge of his terror, reminding him that Hyunjin was still trapped in the realm of sleep.

He would eventually fall silent, only to erupt once more into that bizarre, animalistic growl, as though desperately trying to fend off some lurking menace or invisible threat.

Felix's eyes darted with frantic precision, capturing every minuscule twitch or flicker in the bright morning light. His heart pounded in his chest like a war drum as he scrutinized each subtle movement, desperately searching for any sign that Hyunjin was stirring from his slumber.

The closeness was downright alarming, but the fact that Hyunjin unconsciously chose this specific bed left Felix in a whirlwind of confusion. His mind raced, trying to uncover what hidden impulse in Hyunjin's subconscious could prompt such a decision. The possibility that Hyunjin's inner child was desperately yearning for affection and security gripped Felix's thoughts with an iron hold. It seemed plausible, Felix reasoned. Yet, another possibility gnawed at his mind—that Hyunjin might merely be accustomed to sharing a bed. This idea ignited a spark of inexplicable irritation deep within Felix, burning with an intensity he struggled to suppress.

Hyunjin's growl dissolved into a pitiful whimper, his fingers twitching as if desperately grasping for something in the depths of his troubled sleep. This haunting scene lingered, a silent torment, until Felix caught sight of a single tear escaping down Hyunjin's temple.

A sharp pang of pity struck Felix, but he swallowed it back, forcing himself to remember the bruising grip Hyunjin had left on his throat, the soreness a constant reminder of betrayal. Yet, despite the bitter memory, an overwhelming sadness clawed its way back into Felix's heart as he gazed at Hyunjin's sorrow-stricken face. Against all logic, he resolved to act.

Felix's power demanded either piercing eye contact or the intimacy of skin-to-skin touch. With painstaking care, he reached out, ensuring Hyunjin's slumber remained undisturbed, his hand a ghostly whisper as it hovered over the bare skin of Hyunjin's forearm. One featherlight brush was all it took. At the moment of contact, Felix delved deep within, drawing out the raw emotions, seeking to calm the turmoil, even though a part of him believed Hyunjin deserved the weight of his own demons.

Then, without warning, his vision exploded into a blinding white inferno, images crashing like a violent storm behind his eyes, leaving him gasping in their wake.

He clawed desperately at a woman clad in dark armor as she reached out to him. He lay on the ground, relentlessly attacked by a group of young boys who taunted him and pinned him down. Flames. Flames. Emptiness. Smoke. Ashes. Screams. Sorrow. The woman stood before him, shielding him from those who intended him harm, yet he felt a gut-wrenching emotion knowing her affection was conditional. Terror. Loathing. Terror. Overwhelming terror. Training on a practice field. Blood. Blows to the stomach. A boot striking his nose. Reassurance from an older man, but it offered no true solace. A vast field. Flames. Blood. Ashes. Mourning. A scent that was oddly familiar. Agony. Terror. Agony. Isolation. Despair. Entrapment. Resentment. Disconnection. Hatred.

Suddenly, the door to the room slammed open with a thunderous crash, causing Felix to snatch his hand away from the other male as if burned. He sat bolt upright in bed, heart pounding like a war drum, drenched in sweat. The torrent of information swirling chaotically in his mind was overwhelming, a tidal wave of intensity from what he'd absorbed from Hyunjin.

The sensation was utterly consuming, a spiraling vortex that threatened to swallow everything.

"Felix!" Jisung cried out, his voice cracking with relief as he dashed into the room and threw himself onto the bed, wrapping Felix in a desperate embrace.

"What have you done to him?!" Minho burst in behind him, eyes darting wildly, scanning Hyunjin with frantic intensity before zeroing in on Felix, who sat frozen, eyes unfocused, clutching his chest with trembling hands.

"What?! Felix is the one who was nearly strangled to death!" Jisung shot back, disbelief and fury mingling in his voice.

Minho's face twisted into a suspicious scowl, his eyes narrowing like daggers, until Jeongin intervened with a tense urgency. Seungmin was already retreating cautiously from the escalating tension.

"Everyone, back off! We cannot have Jinnie waking up just yet," Jeongin warned, his voice a tight whisper, eyes sweeping the room with palpable anxiety. "What happened?" he hissed to Felix, nodding toward the man now in Felix’s bed.

Felix remained silent, his gaze distant, and Minho's patience snapped like a taut wire.

"What the hell did you do to him, elf?!" he spat, his voice laced with venom.

Jisung sprang to Felix's defense, his fury igniting like wildfire. "Excuse me?!" he shouted, incredulous at the hostility. "Who do you think you’re talking to?! Are your speeches about prejudices just empty words to seduce me or something?! You can't decide when to tolerate those not from Levanter at your convenience! His name is Felix, for fuck's sake! He's the son of the King of Felora, and if I wanted, I could have your brother's head on a spike by tomorrow morning, so choose your words wisely!"

Minho's face fell, the realization of his aggression hitting him like a cold wave. He exhaled a heavy sigh, stepping back, his eyes filled with a regret that mirrored the chaos unfolding within.

Silence smothered the room, each breath laden with tension, waiting for Felix to break the stifling stillness. But Felix remained locked in his own turmoil, his breath ragged, eyes blinking slowly as he fought to regain clarity, oblivious to the storm of conflict swirling around him.

The silence was shattered with a jolt as Hyunjin shifted in the bed beside him, desperately covering his face as if trying to shield himself from the chaos that threatened to swallow him whole. Felix had only glimpsed fragments of Hyunjin's emotions and past, yet each fleeting vision painted a tapestry of terror that no single soul should endure and survive intact.

As if to validate Felix's haunting suspicions, a strangled sob tore through the air from beneath Hyunjin’s quivering hands.

Instantly, Jeongin dashed to his side, his voice a gentle command. "Hyunjin, it’s okay now. Breathe. Pull yourself back. We’re all here. Even Seungmin. How often can I say that?" Jeongin coaxed with a touch of lightness, his hand moving in soothing circles on Hyunjin’s back, trying to anchor him away from the abyss his mind had plunged into.

Jisung nearly erupted with fury at the sight of the man who had once tried to kill his best friend now reduced to this pitiful state. But he held his tongue, his anger simmering beneath the surface, as Felix gripped his forearm with a firm squeeze, his eyes pleading silently, warning him that Jisung’s sharp words could deepen the wounds that already ran so deep.

Seungmin finally stepped back into the room, his presence charging the air with tension. He marched straight to Jeongin's side, his eyes locked on his sobbing brother, Hyunjin. With a swift, deliberate motion, he delivered a firm smack to the back of Hyunjin's head, the sound echoing like a thunderclap, a bold attempt to jolt him from his tears.

"Keep pulling idiotic stunts like trying to take on a basilisk by yourself, and I'll really give you something to cry about," he laughed, a sharp edge in his voice, as Hyunjin sniffled loudly and swung a feeble fist at his younger brother's chest, the gesture lacking any real strength. Yet, a soft, involuntary chuckle escaped Hyunjin's lips as he sat up, pulling his brother into a tight embrace, burying his face in the crook of his neck. The contact unleashed a torrent of raw emotion, blending ugly, wracking sobs with a manic laughter that sounded as if he were choking on his own breath. Felix, once convinced that such genuine tears and affection couldn't possibly coexist with the darkness that pulsed like venom through his veins, now stood corrected, witnessing the impossible.

Even though Jisung was currently seething at the king, he shot a questioning look at Minho. Minho, however, avoided eye contact and seemed a bit uneasy about the exchange between his younger siblings.

Seungmin scanned the room, sensing the heavy awkwardness in the air. "Kim Seungmin. Youngest brother of Hyunjin and Minho," he introduced himself tersely, then waved his hand dismissively as he added, "We scarcely cross paths these days." His words lingered in the silence, hinting at unspoken stories.

Felix scrutinized Seungmin, his gaze piercing, and murmured, "I wasn't aware His Majesty and Hyunjin had another sibling." The revelation that Seungmin existed at all was a bewildering puzzle piece Felix had never encountered before.

Minho's voice sliced through the room, laced with bitterness, each word a shard of resentment. "At no fault of his own, our baby brother tends to dredge up... memories that are less than pleasant for Jinnie," he declared, his eyes boring into Felix with a significance that made Felix's suspicion flare, while Jisung scrutinized his companion, searching for hidden truths beneath the surface.

The cryptic nature of Minho's statement set off alarms in Felix's mind, casting a shadow over the youngest heir.

Jisung's voice was edged with spite as he deduced, "Is it fair to assume he’s tried to kill you as well, Seungmin?"

That suggestion was a catalyst, unleashing a torrent of sobs from Hyunjin, who clung to Seungmin with a desperation that matched the younger's soothing words and gentle caresses through his hair.

"Please stop," Jeongin implored, his hands steady yet urgent as he prepared a syringe. He cast wary glances at Hyunjin, whose eyes locked onto the syringe with a silent understanding that screamed louder than words.

"N-no, no, Innie. Please," Hyunjin cried out, his voice breaking into a fragile sob as he writhed in Seungmin's now steel-like hold, his desperation clawing at the air, mingling with raw fear.

The scene was so out of character that Felix shuddered, the tension suffocating him, the fear of becoming collateral damage if Hyunjin snapped paralyzing his thoughts.

With a furrowed brow, guilt etched across his features, Jeongin pressed forward, holding the syringe like a lifeline. "You’re still too worked up. We can’t risk—just, be still,” he whispered urgently, a futile attempt to soothe Hyunjin’s agitation.

Seungmin struggled to steady his brother’s head as Jeongin advanced with the needle. Felix could barely discern the muffled pleas of his husband, buried against Seungmin’s shirt, the terror emanating from him thick enough to taste.

The agony of the moment was visceral, especially as Minho stepped in, trying to calm his brother, placing a tender kiss on Hyunjin's head before gripping him firmly, a solitary tear slipping down his cheek. This only sent Hyunjin spiraling into hysterics as Jeongin swabbed his neck with alcohol, preparing to pierce his skin. But before he could, Felix, driven by an inexplicable force, leaned over and covered the injection site with his hand, defying the shocked gasps around him.

In stunned silence, everyone stared at him as though he had grown multiple heads.

“Don’t,” Felix rasped, his voice a gravelly plea as he locked eyes with the doctor’s hesitant gaze. “If my safety is your concern, I can easily leave the premises. But I fear he’s at the mercy of his own tormented mind when he’s under,” Felix declared with unwavering conviction. However, the reason behind his urgency was buried beneath layers of uncertainty. It was a fierce need, a burning compulsion to shield Hyunjin from the torment, the indescribable horrors Felix witnessed in his nightmarish visions. “It’s only fair to grant us both mercy,” he insisted, the words hanging in the air like a desperate plea.

Jisung gaped at Felix, his expression shifting from shock to disbelief as he watched his friend defend the very man who had wrapped his hands around Felix's throat just hours ago. A hot flare of irritation rose in his chest. Why was Felix protecting this volatile, dangerous man? It made no logical sense to Jisung. The marks on Felix's neck were fresh and vibrant, yet here he was, pleading for mercy for Hyunjin. Despite his irritation, Jisung recognized that compassion—that boundless, sometimes foolish empathy—was woven into the very core of Felix's being. It was both his greatest strength and most dangerous vulnerability.

The tension in the room shifted as Jisung caught Minho's gaze—the raw vulnerability there, simply a brother with tears in his eyes, desperate to protect his turbulent sibling.

Jisung's anger toward the king, once a raging fire, had simmered down to a steady smolder, yet the embers of discontent still lingered. Despite this slight softening, he desired a confrontation, and he would have to meet with Minho later to speak his mind.

“Nice gesture and all, but his episodes aren’t exclusive to you, and we can’t exactly remove everyone from the castle,” Seungmin’s voice cut through the tension like a knife stroked Hyunjin’s hair with tenderness, his eyes locked on Felix in a silent dare.

Felix didn’t flinch. His grip on Hyunjin’s neck remained firm, gaze fixed on his prey. “Everyone, stay calm,” he said, his tone a low rumble that left no room for argument. “I’m not here to hurt him.”

Silence swallowed the room. Jeongin’s heart hammered in his chest as he forced out, “What are you doing?” but Felix ignored him.

He tugged Hyunjin’s shoulder to lie back into bed, allowing Seungmin to lower him onto the pillow. Despite complying, Hyunjin, eyes widened with confusion, barely registering the movement—too drained, too defeated to resist—while Felix’s voice took on a chilling clarity.

“I can stabilize his stormy mind, but it will drain me. I may slip into darkness afterward. Don’t panic.” He paused, letting dread fester in every heartbeat. “To steady the brain, I’d normally lock eyes or touch the head—but I refuse to enter that hellscape. So, I’ll focus on the heart.”

He made no mention that he’d accidentally peeked into Hyunjin's mind already. The resulting torrent of emotions and images had been overwhelming enough that Felix knew he couldn't withstand a full dive, nor did the commander consent to such intrusion. Hyunjin's trauma wasn't Felix's to dissect without permission, regardless of their strained circumstances.

Minho’s breath hitched. Jeongin stared, rooted to the spot. Before any of them could protest, Felix’s command sliced through the air.

“Help me remove his gown,” Felix ordered as if Hyunjin wasn’t right there on the bed watching it all unfold, listening.

Seungmin gawked at the bravery the elf harnessed to give orders, and Jeongin exchanged uncertain looks with Minho.

To everyone’s surprise and disbelief, Hyunjin himself didn’t put up a fight. Instead, he reached behind his neck, fingers deftly tugging at the silky ribbon that held his attire together. With a gentle pull, the knot unraveled, and he tugged the fabric smoothly down his shoulders, slipping off his arms with a fluid grace. His upper body was now exposed, bare more than decorum might dictate, the fabric pooling at his waist. He appeared unsure, his hands hovering awkwardly as if unsure where to rest them, his eyes darting away from the curious gazes fixed upon him. Those around him were transfixed, their eyes wide with astonishment and confusion. Yet, they hesitated to challenge the scene further, clearly taken aback by his unexpected compliance, their initial defiance melting into an uneasy silence.

Jisung cast a sideways glance at Minho, catching sight of the mix of emotions playing across his features. Apprehension shadowed his eyes, yet an unmistakable flicker of anticipation danced alongside it. Minho's teeth dug into his bottom lip, gnawing nervously, as if he were wrestling with the wisdom of letting events unfold. His expression was a canvas of uncertainty, painted with cautious hope and trepidation.

Minho's nerves were frayed, not from a fear of Hyunjin's potential outburst, but rather from the unsettling cooperation Hyunjin displayed. It shook Minho to his core, sparking a sudden, creeping suspicion that Felix might already be wielding some sort of magic without having disclosed it beforehand. Hyunjin’s unexpected compliance, his willingness to listen without a hint of quarrel, suggested that Felix had somehow commandeered the situation with astonishing ease, as if playing a hidden trump card that left everyone bewildered as to how it unfolded. It had to be manipulation magic. The mere thought of this unseen force at play sent a chill down Minho's spine, his protective instincts flaring.

Hyunjin avoided making direct eye contact with anyone once his upper half was revealed, his gaze fixed upwards to the ceiling as a flush of embarrassment crept across his cheeks. The vulnerability he felt was palpable, a mix of shame and discomfort at his inability to control the emotions that had bubbled to the surface. His discomfort was further compounded by the scars that marred parts of his torso.

Under ordinary circumstances, he wouldn’t give a second thought to standing almost entirely exposed in a room teeming with others, whether strangers or familiar faces. However, this situation was different. It involved someone whose life he had attempted to end just hours ago, now scrutinizing him under the harsh light of day. The elf had now seen him incapable of holding back tears, shedding them relentlessly like those of a vulnerable child, and it only served to heighten his self-consciousness.

He instinctively crossed one arm protectively over his chest, muscles tensing, while the other hand hovered defensively at his waist. His fingers curled slightly as if ready to fend off a phantom threat, trying to shield himself from the judging eyes that bore into him. In this moment, he felt more exposed than any battlefield had ever left him. His gaze was fixed intently on the ceiling above, the stone becoming a refuge from the uncertainty of the moment. What Felix planned for him was a mystery, but right now, he was resigned to whatever fate awaited him.

Felix observed Hyunjin with a keen eye, noticing how he seemed to retreat into himself, his posture shrinking with a potent blend of trepidation and resignation. It was as if Hyunjin had relinquished the battle against whatever adversities life had in store, ready to yield to the next inevitable blow of fate. This realization pierced Felix's heart with a profound ache. Hyunjin’s eyelids fluttered rapidly, a clear sign that he was on the brink of another bout of hysterical crying. Yet, he struggled to hold back the floodgates, taking slow, deep breaths in a valiant but ultimately futile attempt to regain control. Despite his efforts, tears cascaded down his cheeks, carving glistening trails across his skin and pooling at his ears, a testament to the emotional storm raging within.

“Hyunjin,” Felix whispered, the single word soaked in something softer than command yet charged with undeniable authority. Every charged second hung suspended between hope and collapse.

Hyunjin remained silent, his body quivering as if caught in a storm, deliberately avoiding even a peripheral glance in Felix's direction. This refusal to acknowledge him stirred a bewildering ache of longing deep within Felix, an ache he resolved to ignore, despite its persistence. Hyunjin was clearly trying to detach himself from the present, a coping mechanism to shield his raw emotions. For a fleeting moment, Felix considered reaching out, a mere touch that might offer him a window into Hyunjin's mental sanctuary, the place where his memories converged to form a semblance of peace. But such an intrusion would be far too invasive, a dangerous flirtation with a level of magic Felix had yet to master, one that could easily leave irreversible scars. Unwilling to risk shattering Hyunjin beyond repair, Felix instead raised his voice, injecting clarity and purpose into his words, hoping to bridge the chasm between them without causing further harm.

"Hyunjin, I want to help you relax," Felix began, his voice steady and soothing, "but to do so, I need to touch you." The room was silent as a gentle tension hung in the air. "I assure you, I won't be taking anything from you—your thoughts, your memories, your emotions—they are yours alone, and will be left untouched. They aren't mine to experience." He paused, his eyes searching Hyunjin's face with a hint of wistfulness, as if hoping to bridge a chasm between them. "However," he continued, his voice trailing into a whisper that was both earnest and impossible, "if there ever comes a day when you see me as more than just an insect beneath your boot, and you wish to share your burdens..." His words hung in the air, a subtle promise of understanding and connection, unlikely yet sincere, meant to offer Hyunjin a sliver of comfort.

"This ability of mine is not well-understood," Felix admitted, his gaze dropping to where his hands now lay in his lap. "I can't guarantee it will help, but what I can promise is that your heart rate and adrenaline levels will settle. You won't feel trapped in that relentless fight-or-flight mode, as long as you don't resist." His words were a balm, spoken with calm assurance even as the others in the room exchanged glances of bewilderment.

Only Jisung seemed at ease, nodding slightly with the knowledge of Felix's unique gift, while Minho's face twisted into a mask of dread and anxiety, the unknown looming large and unsettling.

"And if it doesn’t work? What then?" The king spat with a sneer, his voice laced with both derision and anxiety as he challenged him. "If it’s a lesser understood magic, who’s to guarantee it won't harm him or make things even worse? You’re tampering with his very bodily functions—who’s to say it won’t end his life?" His voice quivered slightly, a mix of desperation and alarm echoing in the room, betraying the fear that clawed at his heart.

Jisung sighed deeply, his breath heavy with exasperation at the blatant hypocrisy laid bare before him. If Felix truly intended to cause him harm, he had already been presented with countless opportunities. Felix could have left Hyunjin on the bed to succumb to the deadly basilisk venom, without assisting in the grueling operation that saved his life. In acts of unexpected bravery, Felix had risked his own safety for a man who treated him with disdain, akin to dirt underfoot. Yet, that very man turned around with intentions to cause the elf harm.

Before Jisung could voice his frustrations to his lover, who was now officially perpetually confined to the proverbial doghouse, Felix locked eyes with Minho. A steely determination glinted in his gaze, a cold resolve that Jisung found utterly foreign in the usually gentle and kindhearted Felix.

It was as if a new, unyielding spirit had awakened within him, one that Jisung wasn’t sure he had even seen before.

"I wasn't speaking to you," Felix snapped with an edge sharp enough to cut, his eyes locking back onto Hyunjin, who was beginning to tremble, each breath coming faster, teetering on the brink of panic.

"Hyunjin, may I place my hand on your chest?"

The question hung heavy in the air, causing Hyunjin to swallow hard. His nod was shaky, and his left hand trembled as it left his chest, gripping Seungmin’s shirt sleeve with a desperate tightness. Felix felt a pang of sorrow seeing the older brother dependent on his younger sibling, his heart aching at the thought that maybe, just maybe, Hyunjin was capable of love.

The muscles in Hyunjin's arm tensed like a cornered beast bracing for an attack, a sight that sent a chill down Felix's spine. Yet, once permission was given, Felix nodded, steeling himself for what was to come. He knew the shockwave of his actions would ripple through the room, stunning everyone except Jisung, who was already inching forward to shield him from Minho's interference. Felix silently thanked Jisung for having his back. It was a gamble—but sometimes it was better to seek forgiveness than permission.

With unwavering focus, Felix leaned in slowly, his hand hovering over Hyunjin's chest, where his heart pounded like a war drum. "Please don’t kill me," he whispered, exhaling softly, his eyes sliding shut as he concentrated with every fiber of his being.

In a heartbeat, Minho's yelp sliced through the tension as a blinding flash of green light exploded, engulfing Hyunjin and Felix entirely in its otherworldly glow.

Chapter Text

Hyunjin awoke to an intense sensation of warmth, almost overwhelming in its heat. As he blinked open his eyes, he found his vision obscured by an unfamiliar object draped across his face. His fingers reached up to grasp a towel, its scent foreign and intriguing, and he slid it away, revealing a sky of brilliant azure, the midday sun shining down with a brightness that Levanter had never witnessed. A gentle breeze wafted over him, laden with an assortment of delightful aromas that danced through the air.

Initially startled, Hyunjin felt a wave of defensiveness rise in him before he shifted to sit upright, momentarily taken aback by the breathtaking scenery that surrounded him. He found himself on a stunning tropical shoreline, the azure waters stretching out into the horizon, glistening under the late noon sun like scattered sapphires. Looking down, he realized he was seated on a bed of warm, soft white sand, the fine grains weaving themselves between his toes, which were bare.

Despite being so far removed from home and the familiar, he was enveloped by a sense of contentment and tranquility unlike anything he had ever experienced before. He noticed he was still clad in the medical gown, the fabric only loosely draped around his waist. Suddenly, the sound of a loud splash and echoes of distant laughter caught his attention, pulling his gaze across the sandy expanse.

Not too far away, Felix was entangled in a playful struggle, attempting to maintain his balance in the surf. The waves crashed with vigor against his back, enveloping him in a frothy embrace. Yet, when he emerged from the tumultuous waters, he wore a carefree grin, as wide and unrestrained as the ocean itself, a smile that could rival the sun in its brilliance.

If Hyunjin had thought Felix looked otherworldly in the muted light of Levanter, nothing compared to this: the sun blazing overhead, turning every droplet of seawater on his surf shirt and loose shorts into glimmering jewels. The fabric clung to his slender waist; his skin, tanned and warm, caught the light like polished sandstone. Golden strands of damp hair clung to his forehead, then flickered radiant as he tossed his head back in laughter. It was a laugh so free and unguarded that Hyunjin, for the first time,

didn't feel the urge to confront the elf invading their realm. He wanted only to stay rooted in the powdery sand and drink in the sight of Felix’s bright eyes sparkling with pure joy.

For the first time, Hyunjin could not muster anger or suspicion; instead, his lips curved into a genuine smile, even though he had no idea why the world felt suddenly lighter, or how long this peculiar spell might endure.

Felix, noticing his gaze, cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered, “Wakey wakey!” His voice carried across the surf, playful as a seabird’s cry.

The striking contrast of a delicate, ethereal frame housing a voice of such profound depth amused the commander immensely.

Hyunjin squinted against the glare, then chuckled, shaking his head as another wave rolled in. “Do you care to explain?” he called, voice warm with curiosity.

Felix turned just in time to see the swell crest behind him—then slipped, legs skittering out from under, and let out a startled yelp as he tumbled headfirst into frothy foam.

Moments later, Felix surfaced amid sparkling bubbles, coughing and sputtering seawater like someone trying to laugh and choke at once. He staggered to his feet, hair plastered across his face, then padded over and collapsed beside Hyunjin onto a towel Hyunjin hadn’t even noticed beneath him.

With a triumphant grin, Felix flopped onto his stomach and brushed salt off his cheeks. “Magic,” he said simply, as if that explained everything.

Hyunjin stared, utterly bewitched. He struggled to tear his gaze away from the way Felix's soaked shorts adhered to his form, the fabric darkened and molded to every contour, leaving little to the imagination. He attempted to scowl or feign annoyance, but found himself powerless. The sight of Felix’s sun-kissed skin, his wide, laughing eyes flecked with gold, the constellation of freckles dusting his nose like tiny burnished seeds—all of it sent a thrilling warmth coiling through Hyunjin’s chest. He rolled his eyes, an empty gesture, and settled back onto the sand, utterly captivated by the mysterious, radiant creature at his side.

“I hate you,” Hyunjin grumbled, voice thick with feigned loathing, but the words came out softer than he meant, and it earned a light chuckle from the elf. The sound caused a flutter through the commander’s chest, sending a warm, electric buzz through his veins. He tried to recoil from the sensation, but this place—bathed in golden afternoon glow, its air fragrant with wildflowers and salt—was the most serene realm he’d ever known. Every attempt to summon anger dissolved like mist, leaving only pure, unguarded bliss.

Felix turned onto his side, propping himself on one pale elbow. His eyes glinted with amusement. “I know,” he replied with a lazy grin, brushing a lock of blonde hair from his forehead. “I’m not your biggest fan, either. Go on—ask your questions. I’ll answer honestly.”

Hyunjin’s gaze swept the horizon—emerald groves, a crystalline brook that sang as it tumbled over stones, dragonflies weaving silver arcs through the air—before he squared his shoulders and met Felix’s steady stare. The confidence in those dark irises had evaded him until now, prying at his usual caution.

“Is this teleportation… or drugs?” he asked, voice unnervingly calm, head tilted in genuine curiosity.

Felix snorted, shoulders rising in a casual shrug. “Why not both?” His flat delivery drew a reluctant, entertained huff from Hyunjin—an unexpected response from the typically timid, shy, and reserved elf.

“I’m neither shy nor timid,” Felix continued, lips curving with mischief. “And if you’d bothered to learn who I am before writing me off, you’d know that.” His words, almost as if reading Hyunjin’s unspoken thoughts, left the commander blinking in startled suspicion. Strange telepathy—or had this elf truly pierced the barriers of his mind?

Hyunjin narrowed his eyes but felt no hostility. In fact, the languid warmth around them deflated every trace of threat. He might as well observe this curious companion, study him like a specimen in this eternal haven. After all, reality could wait until he returned—if he ever did. Perhaps, he thought wryly, Felix had slain him, and this was some afterlife paradise.

“Do you really think I—of all people—would be in your version of heaven?” Felix asked, amusement dancing on his tone. Hyunjin flinched at the telepathic lilt of the question, but the elf continued, mock-solemn. “Though I did vow to walk beside you through all tomorrows and beyond, faithfully and forever… from now ’til eternity.” He paused, then echoed another vow with perfect, sarcastic clarity. “But you vowed to bring me into your arms, your home, your bed… into your heart. So what do vows even matter anyway?”

His teasing taunt should have stung, but Hyunjin found himself on the verge of laughter instead. Felix’s relaxed posture and the playful curl of his lips betrayed no malice—only gentle provocation. Yet in those dark, glistening eyes lay a flicker of something deeper, a soft ache that hit Hyunjin like a blade twisting in warm flesh—and it was strangely comforting. Here, in this realm of unbroken delight, nothing felt hurtful. Not even a dagger of unspoken sorrow.

"Where are we?" Hyunjin asked bluntly, his voice cutting through the thick tension, choosing to disregard Felix's playful jabs about their forgotten, meaningless wedding vows.

Felix lay sprawled on his back, arms lazily stretched above his head, releasing a deep, contented sigh. "Currently, we are lying in a bed together in the infirmary, remember?" he replied, his tone casual yet layered with subtle amusement.

Hyunjin's puzzled expression prompted a broader, more mischievous grin from Felix as he elaborated, his voice tinged with a hint of magic and mystery. "I'm using a type of manipulation magic—not the kind you and your kin seem to fear so much, obviously. To be honest, while you were sedated, I tried to draw out some of that negative energy to help you rest more peacefully. It was quite the ordeal—I inadvertently plunged into a nightmare of memories and emotions that weren't mine to bear. I do apologize for that intrusion, even though it was unintentional. But rest assured, I have no desire to revisit that abyss of darkness you harbor within, for fear of shattering my own sanity. So instead of sifting through your mind for a rare, blissful memory hidden among the turmoil, I'm offering you a piece of my own past to savor during our shared dreamscape. That's where the manipulation comes into play. I frequented this place often as a child." His words were factual, yet carried a nostalgic warmth as his eyes drifted into the distance, lost in fond remembrance. "When my father had diplomatic duties nearby, my mother and her ladies would bring me and other children here to simply... be kids and relish in the joys of life."

Felix turned his head, his gaze locking onto Hyunjin's, which was filled with curiosity. "So technically, this is a memory, but I've erased everyone except us from this fantasy realm. I figured you wouldn't be interested in watching a bunch of elven children frolicking in the surf... and if you were to dare insult my mother, I’d have no choice but to hold you beneath the waves until your lungs gave out," he teased, his voice unapologetically playful, accompanied by a toothy smile and an impish wink that softened the jest.

Hyunjin let out another surprised huff through his nose, struggling to reconcile the image of Felix—a seemingly delicate figure—with the notion of him threatening violence in any form. Yet, the past twenty-four hours had shattered his assumptions, revealing that Lee Felix was far from a meek, fragile elf who submitted to authority without question. This man had bitten him, for crying out loud. Who would have imagined that the seemingly timid, docile blonde would not only have siphoned and endured the venom of a basilisk but also squared up against a dragon, and bitten Hyunjin out of sheer frustration—all within a single, tumultuous night? Moreover, the elf had somehow managed to subdue him when... Hyunjin couldn't bring himself to think about what had transpired. It wasn't that he couldn't recall—more like an unseen force prevented the memory from intruding upon this serene dreamscape, which was both a comfort and a worry. Strangely, instead of feeling angered or threatened, he found himself enveloped in a sense of unexpected calm.

"Since this is a memory, our emotions can only align with what I experienced during that specific moment in time. Here, your anger, hatred, fear, resentment, jealousy, guilt, and suffering hold no power. You can hurl insults all you want, but they will hold no real weight. So, despite the frustration you must feel at being unable to unleash your vitriol upon me or cause me harm—though I have no doubt you’ll exact revenge once we return to reality—I’m afraid we are safe and sound here, Commander," he announced with a light, teasing lilt in his voice, humor dancing on his tongue. He closed his eyes, surrendering to the bright sunlight that bathed him in its warmth, while the distant cries of seagulls and the rhythmic crashing of waves on the shore lulled him into a serene and sleepy calm.

Hyunjin found himself incapable of mustering any true irritation toward Felix in that moment. Instead, he was captivated by Felix's unexpected transformation from apparent terror to a playful boldness that rivaled even his own.

"Perhaps we can spend even a minute truly getting to know each other without clawing at each other's throats," Felix suggested, his words both rhetorical and sincere. Without waiting for a response, he gracefully rose from his spot, where he had been lounging with ease. "Of course, you might prefer to simply enjoy the peace and quiet. As for me, I’m inclined to indulge in a bit of harmless revenge while you’re unable to dish out real punishments."

Standing confidently with hands on his hips and feet planted firmly in the sand, Felix looked at Hyunjin with a playful twinkle in his eyes, devoid of malice. "That’s why I didn’t provide you with any swimwear," he remarked casually, gesturing toward Hyunjin’s medical gown that hung loosely around his waist. He averted his gaze slightly, attempting to restrain himself from staring at the way Hyunjin’s muscles rippled under the sunlit, tan, glistening skin, though his curiosity got the better of him.

Hyunjin was thrown into a whirlwind of confusion by Felix's unpredictable behavior. This wasn't the demeanor he had expected at all, based on his scant knowledge of the elf. The feeble explanation Felix offered did nothing to quell his bewilderment. Hyunjin desperately wanted to dismiss everything as a deceit or some sinister magical illusion designed for malevolent purposes. Was Felix trying to manipulate him into trusting him? Despite witnessing Felix's eagerness to help or protect him multiple times, there was a part of Hyunjin that couldn't ignore the depth in Felix's actions—it was as if aiding others was second nature to him. Yet, Hyunjin stubbornly rejected the notion that he needed help or protection from anyone, especially not from elves, and certainly not from Felix. But still... His instincts screamed at him to stay receptive.

Suddenly, Felix flashed a wickedly attractive smirk before kicking a pile of sand onto Hyunjin, who recoiled instinctively as the gritty particles assaulted his entire body.

Felix dashed away, laughing maniacally, as Hyunjin spat out sand and cursed vividly, his tone more exasperated than truly angry. Felix charged straight into the ocean, sprinting until the waves reached his waist, then dove under a massive wave as if trying to dodge any form of retribution, despite its impossibility in this magical realm. He resurfaced moments later, wiping seawater from his face and slicking his hair back out of his eyes. When he opened them, he was greeted by Hyunjin's irritated, yet undeniably amused glare, mere inches away from him.

Felix let out a sharp yelp, slipping backward into the relentless surf, swallowed whole by the waves for a moment before emerging, gasping and wide-eyed. He stared at Hyunjin, incredulous at how quickly he had caught up.

"How did you—" Felix sputtered, spitting out the salty water, but Hyunjin cut him off sharply.

"I'm faster than you," Hyunjin declared with unwavering confidence, standing tall in the waist-deep water. He knew Felix held the power to submerge him endlessly here, yet fear no longer clawed at his insides. Despite the lingering mistrust he felt towards Felix, something inexplicably compelling drew him in. It wasn’t just the breathtaking smile that seemed to animate a masterpiece or those eyes brimming with authentic compassion. Certainly not the surf shirt clinging to Felix’s lean, toned body like a second skin, accentuating his allure and undeniable charm. No, that would be ludicrous. And yet, Hyunjin felt an irresistible urge to engage with Felix, consequences be damned.

"Bullshark!" Felix shot back, scrutinizing Hyunjin with playful suspicion before bursting into an infectious laughter that echoed through the air, causing Hyunjin to quirk an eyebrow at the absurdity.

"You mean bullshit?" Hyunjin questioned, his confusion mingling with amusement.

"No, I meant what I said. We are in the ocean. It's only fitting," Felix retorted swiftly, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he bobbed in the water, the small waves crashing against him with rhythmic insistence.

To his own shock, Hyunjin burst into a chuckle, his smile widening in disbelief at the absurdity of this elf, whose grin seemed entirely too pure for the chaotic setting of their encounter.

"Prove it! Race you!" Felix suddenly challenged, diving beneath the water with a swiftness that left Hyunjin momentarily paralyzed, before reemerging several feet away, gliding in a powerful breaststroke towards some distant rocks.

A surge of competitiveness ignited within Hyunjin, refusing to back down from such a daring challenge. He propelled himself forward, instincts taking over as he pursued Felix with a fervor. Though this race unfolded within the confines of magic, adrenaline surged through his veins, heightening his senses, eager for whatever wild antics awaited.

In mere moments, Hyunjin's hand shot out, seizing Felix's ankle beneath the water. Felix yelped in surprise as Hyunjin yanked him backward, sending him flailing awkwardly while Hyunjin surged past with ease.

"That's cheating!" Felix yelled, his voice a mix of indignation and laughter as Hyunjin approached the rock, snickering uncontrollably despite his attempts to suppress it.

"All is fair in love and water races!" Hyunjin retorted with a mischievous grin, his stomach twisting with the unintentional implication of his words, though he left them uncorrected for the thrill of the moment.

Hyunjin's hand slapped against the rock triumphantly, turning to gloat, only to be seized by alarm at the absence of Felix behind him. Panic clawed at him as he frantically scanned his surroundings, his heart pounding until he glanced back at the rock, startled to find Felix perched nonchalantly atop it. Felix kicked his legs lazily, leaning back on one arm, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips as he observed Hyunjin from above with amused curiosity.

"How did you—"

"I'm faster than you," Felix echoed, his smile dazzling enough to light up the sky, sliding off the boulder to land gracefully right before him, positioned between the rock and Hyunjin's body. With a snort of amusement, Felix confessed, "Magic. I control this realm, remember?" giggling with uncontainable delight at Hyunjin's outraged expression.

The closeness at which Felix stood, mere inches away, felt like a surreal vortex pulling Hyunjin into a tempest of dizzying sensations, leaving him utterly speechless as he absorbed the elf's ethereal presence. The sun cast a divine glow on his freckles, and the golden flecks in his eyes burned brilliantly against the backdrop of his deep brown irises.

Felix cleared his throat awkwardly, retreating slightly, yet unable to resist the magnetic pull of the droplets of saltwater tracing the contours of Hyunjin's chest. His eyes were riveted as one droplet cascaded over defined pecs and abs, vanishing into the waterline below. Forcing his gaze upward, he glanced toward the sandy spot where Hyunjin's gown lay discarded. He felt a wave of discomfort, perhaps even guilt, for neglecting to magically outfit his partner with swimwear before initiating their chase. Yet, the moment he turned back and locked eyes with Hyunjin's intense scrutiny, all words, thoughts, and fragments of reality evaporated. Technically, he had abandoned reality the moment he invoked magic.

Despite knowing all too well that he would later be overwhelmed with emotions and regret for getting entangled with this bewildering, hotheaded, infuriating individual now gazing at him with an unexpectedly endearing curiosity—eyebrows furrowed in intrigue and lips adorably puckered in concentration—Felix couldn't resist the smile that fought its way onto his face. Nor could he suppress its broadening when Hyunjin's frown transformed into a shared expression of amusement.

"I don't like this," Hyunjin admitted through a light chuckle that battled against his natural tendency toward a more sullen demeanor. It seemed almost painful for him to express joy openly, and Felix couldn't help but ponder what kind of life one must lead to exist in a constant state of anguish or indifference.

"You have a beautiful smile, Hwang Hyunjin," Felix admitted sincerely, a rosy blush blooming across his cheeks when his candid confession prompted Hyunjin to shyly avert his gaze, waving Felix off with a playful flick of his hand. It was the most endearing display Felix had witnessed from him so far. It was evident that behind the fortress of steel walls and barbed wire, there was a rich tapestry of character hidden away, safeguarded by none other than the lone wolf himself.

"You're just saying that to get under my gown," Hyunjin deflected with a teasing lilt in his voice. Felix's soft giggle bubbled forth, a melody of genuine delight, as Hyunjin arched an amused eyebrow, clearly savoring the musical quality of Felix's laughter.

Felix gestured toward the shoreline, where gentle waves lapped rhythmically. "That gown?" he questioned with a skeptical smirk, arms crossing over his chest in a stance of playful defiance. "If that's the case, it seems I've already succeeded, considering..." His eyes flicked downward for a brief moment, where Hyunjin's lower half was concealed by the shimmering water, a smug grin tugging at his lips.

Hyunjin let out a short, amused snort, giving Felix an appraising once-over. "Don't come at me for being naked when that was entirely out of my control," he quipped with mock indignation, raising his own brow in a gesture of playful challenge. "Meanwhile, you chose to wear a full-on long-sleeved shirt on a beach," he added, his voice dripping with facetiousness.

Felix laughed unrestrained once more, the sound echoing like a carefree melody as he ran both hands through his hair, sweeping wet blond strands away from his face with a flourish. "It protects me from sand chafing, sun damage, and potential jellyfish, thank you very much," he joked airily, dramatically puffing his chest out like a proud peacock. "Don't come crying to me when you look like a tomato and a fish bites your manhood off, however," he warned teasingly, his words carrying a playful lilt rather than true menace. This elicited a chuckle from Hyunjin, who shrugged noncommittally and moved closer, drawn in without conscious thought.

"Chafing is child's play, I don't burn, jellyfish don't compare to a basilisk, and well..." Hyunjin paused, his hand rising to scratch the back of his neck sheepishly, as if the action could somehow soothe his embarrassment. "I guess my cock is useless anyway so that doesn’t really matter, huh?" An awkward chuckle escaped him, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of crimson, entirely unrelated to the warmth of the sun.

Sensing an opportunity and emboldened by his own lack of hesitation, Felix pressed further, stepping forward with a curiosity that seemed to bridge the space between them. "Useless? Like, erectile dysfunction?" he probed, his interest piqued by the unexpected admission.

Hyunjin shook his head rapidly, laughter tumbling from his lips awkwardly. "Oh, fuck, no! Not at all. Nothing like that. I mean, trust me, it works fine... Maybe a bit overzealously at times," he confessed through his awkward laughter, his gaze darting away from Felix's intense, inquisitive eyes as if seeking refuge elsewhere.

Felix raised an eyebrow, a silent prompt for further explanation. "Then what's the issue?"

The elf was turning out to be astonishingly audacious and insatiably curious, defying every expectation the commander had harbored.

Hyunjin released another dry laugh, his fingers absently scratching at his elbow as if the motion could alleviate his discomfort. "I just meant that I am married now, so...yeah..." His cheeks flamed crimson, a vivid testament to his internal struggle, as he searched for words to adequately explain himself.

"And that stops you from indulging?" Felix asked, his voice laced with a teasing curiosity that danced between them like a playful breeze.

Hyunjin's eyes widened in alarm at the question, his expression almost frantic as he stammered out a response. "Felix," he began, the name stumbling off his tongue, devoid of its usual venom or annoyance, surprising him enough to pause in a moment of confusion. Felix, on the other hand, found the sound of his name from that honey-smooth voice utterly intoxicating, craving to hear it again.

"Despite our differences and the fact that we are not even remotely friendly, we are married. I swore a blood oath, and here in Levanter, such promises are not taken lightly." Hyunjin's voice dropped to a grave seriousness, as if the weight of their circumstances bore down on him, almost apologetic, yet Felix wasn't entirely sure it was remorse he detected. It seemed more like a flicker of respect or even admiration lingered in his words. "Even if it means living in celibacy for eternity, once our union was sealed, I renounced all others, in both body and spirit." His declaration carried a stark finality, as if he truly believed in the endless binding of such vows. How could he be so naively steadfast, or perhaps hopelessly delusional?

Felix let his curiosity surge forth, knowing that discussing such intimate matters would be far more challenging outside this mystical realm. "Jeongin mentioned that our union technically isn't sealed until consummation. By that definition, our bond isn't truly solidified yet... so if you ever feel an overwhelming need... Seeking another for release wouldn't be a breach of our vows, I reason," Felix asserted logically, brushing aside his previous thoughts with a nonchalant shrug.

Hyunjin cut in with a sharp, derisive snort before Felix could continue. "It's just sex, Felix. I won't die without it..." He broke off, rubbing his forearm with a nervous energy, his eyes darting away like a prisoner avoiding the gaze of his captor.

"Ji said it's possible to get so pent up, it's uncomfortable," Felix declared with deep sincerity, his mind racing with thoughts of what kind of person Hyunjin might pursue if ever the chance arose.

Hyunjin seemed more entertained than offended, his smile genuine but devoid of warmth as he questioned, "Ji?"

"Jisung. My advisor," Felix replied, his voice earnest and unyielding.

"Ah..." Hyunjin let out a short, mirthless chuckle before elaborating, "Yeah, I mean, blue balls are a thing, but, well, I have hands," he remarked dryly, almost challenging the silence that followed.

Felix absorbed the words, his expression thoughtful and intense as the quiet enveloped them, until Hyunjin finally broke it.

"And while I intend to honor such an oath, I will not hold it against you if you seek out someone to please you... someone far less likely to... hurt you... Someone whom you feel comfortable around," Hyunjin confessed, his voice faltering as he bared his vulnerability. He cleared his throat awkwardly, his face flushing when Felix's eyebrows shot up in either disbelief or astonishment, neither of which he could decide was more daunting.

Felix’s eyes turned to cold flint, every line of his face taut with offended pride. “Do you not take me as a man of my word as well?” he spat, stepping forward until their breaths mingled in a silent dare. Beneath his bravado, something raw and wounded flickered—Hyunjin felt his chest tighten at the unguarded sorrow in those eyes. “I may not enjoy being in your presence, Commander, but I do not break my oaths either. Trust and loyalty mean more to me than any fleeting pleasure.” He held Hyunjin’s gaze without flinching, unafraid to lay bare the iron steel behind his calm mask.

Hyunjin exhaled, the haughty confidence draining from him like sand through clenched fingers. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, hunting for the right words. “I didn't mean any offense... I wasn't trying to get deep or anything. I was just teasing that my cock is useless in a marriage where the other party is entirely uninterested and—”

“Who said I was uninterested?” Felix cut in, his voice low but volcanic, his stare a tether pinning Hyunjin in place. He knew if he showed an iota of hesitation or uncertainty, he would lose the small window of opportunity to express himself to the commander.

Hyunjin’s jaw hung slack. His eyes flitted like panicked birds. “I—You…” His voice cracked, disbelief shading into fear. He stumbled back through the conversation in his mind, desperate to understand this turn. “I beg to differ! After the wedding, you were a crying mess—”

Felix’s lips curled in a bitter half-smile. "Yes, I cried—because you treated me like I was put on this earth just to spite you. From the beginning, you insulted and threatened me, reinforcing all the negative preconceptions I had about you and the people of Levanter. Then, in your chambers, you said you'd rather lie with a roach while trying to undress me without even so much as asking for permission. Call me naive, but I doubt bedroom talk consists of such remarks," He retorted with biting sarcasm, his words cutting through the air like a blade. “I was torn away from the safety of my home and handed over to a man who regarded me as less than an insect and feared painful violation. I’d say my tears were justified based on the circumstances. Wouldn’t you?”

Silence swallowed Hyunjin. He stood motionless, every syllable echoing in his mind as cold truth sank in. Beneath the realm’s dazzling joy, an unexpected ache unfurled in his chest—guilt, or perhaps the bitter taste of realizing Felix was right. His usual defenses—anger, mockery, blame—felt hollow in this magical space where negativity couldn't take root.

Even though he harbored no affection for the elf, terrifying him in such a cruel manner was beyond humorless; it was utterly unjustifiable. Hyunjin, who could rip out throats with cold indifference, drew an unwavering line at the thought of sexual violation—a boundary he wouldn’t even contemplate breaching. The mere notion of being feared in such a vile way churned his stomach with revulsion.

Felix, feeling the storm raging within him, didn't aim to paint the commander as a monster, but instead to ignite a spark of realization that hope once thrived. His gaze pierced into Hyunjin's soul with unwavering intensity, determined to awaken the truth buried beneath the chaos.

"I was incredibly anxious and felt utterly out of my place, but had you greeted me with warmth and respect upon our meeting, perhaps even shown the grace of a true gentleman, it might have eased my fears—fears of you being exactly what others claim you to be—cruel, heartless. Had you done so, there's a strong chance I would have welcomed your advances with open arms in your chambers, for it was my duty, after all," he confessed, his voice a soft murmur laced with vulnerability.

“I will admit I was pleasantly surprised at how handsome you were upon laying eyes on you for the first time," Felix began, his voice carrying a note of unexpected admiration. "You were spoken of as a seasoned warrior, so I anticipated someone far older than myself, someone whose very presence would have been daunting, even repulsive. I expected you to look as brutal as everyone has described you to be. Yet, there you stood—a man whose very existence made me question the praise I’d received throughout my lifetime concerning beauty. When you, commander, share this earth with me, how could such acclaim hold any weight? If your personality matched the stunning visage before me, I most definitely wouldn't have protested. No. In fact, it’s likely I would have initiated it had you acted as any normal person with manners or common decency," Felix confessed openly and candidly, his words a vulnerable melody in the breeze. He bit his lip, a subtle gesture of hesitation before adding, "Of course, I would have still been inexperienced, therefore nervous nonetheless, but I am sure someone like yourself could have guided me along the way..."

Hyunjin stared, utterly dumbfounded, as Felix spoke. He found himself unable to tear his gaze away, even if he had wanted to, as the mental image of guiding Felix through intimate acts flooded his mind. Hyunjin gulped dryly, the sound resonating in the stillness as he imagined himself teaching Felix slowly how to bring him pleasure. The thought of what sounds Felix might make, or how his features would contort in ecstasy as Hyunjin pleasured him, left Hyunjin somewhat short of breath.

He tried to suppress such forbidden thoughts, tried to remind himself that he couldn't allow his mind to wander to such places about an elf. He refused. Yet, his mind and body responded positively, betraying him terribly with a warmth that spread through him.

A slight grin curled at the edges of his lips, unbidden and unavoidable, as he looked up again. Felix was watching him intently, eyes bright with a glimmer of excitement, observing every emotion that played across Hyunjin's face at his confessions. The elf smiled upon realizing that Hyunjin seemed intrigued by his admission.

“Unless, you preferred silence throughout intercourse.... I wouldn't know,” Felix whispered suggestively, his voice a soft, teasing lilt. He boldly licked his lips, a deliberate act that made it clear he knew exactly what he was doing, a reminder of the elves' greater powers of perception. They were intuitive creatures, able to read subtle cues and respond with an almost supernatural awareness.

The notion of Felix noticing every intricate detail made Hyunjin feel unnaturally flustered and uncomfortable all of a sudden, as it dawned on him that this might be manipulation cleverly disguised as honesty. Without any warning or adequate explanation, he abruptly backed away from Felix, causing the younger man to frown with a sadness that shadowed his features. Felix turned to face the vast, open ocean, trying to ignore the sharp sting of rejection that struck him like a cold, biting wind.

“How long do we stay… here? In this… thing?” Hyunjin questioned tightly, his voice unintentionally gruff, as if the words were dragged over gravel.

Felix briefly hoped he hadn’t overstepped any boundaries, but he couldn’t afford to dwell on it now. It wasn’t as if Hyunjin truly cared much about his feelings, anyway.

“In real time, perhaps only a few seconds. Here, we can remain as long as my power will allow,” Felix explained, his tone formal and unwavering, like a teacher delivering a lecture. “Or until you fight against it. And I don’t mean this as a dig nor a challenge, but I don’t believe you could overcome it in your current state. However, if you wish for me to release you before I deem it necessary, I will honor your wishes.” He maintained his professionalism, refusing to let it waver, even as an abnormal pain gripped his chest, tightening like a vice.

It shouldn’t be possible to feel pain in this ethereal realm, yet the intensity of Hyunjin's disdain seemed so profound that it bled into the very fabric of the dream world. The atmosphere shifted as Hyunjin finally turned his gaze towards Felix, his eyes devoid of any spark, like windows to a soul drained of emotion. Felix's heart ached, mourning the sudden disappearance of the vibrant, playful Hyunjin who had been beside him just moments before. The laughter that had once danced between them evaporated, leaving behind an empty echo, and with it, Felix's enthusiasm for their shared time dwindled.

“Hyunjin,” Felix implored softly, his voice laced with a mixture of urgency and tenderness. “Don’t resist it. It doesn’t matter what I think of you, how you perceive yourself, or what others say… You are human, and your soul deserves moments of respite. Letting down your guard occasionally may even provide benefits in battle when dealing with opponents that seek to weaken you mentally. Please—“

But before Felix could complete his earnest plea for Hyunjin to stay and continue their playful interlude, the dreamscape dissolved abruptly into an abyss of darkness. The vivid presence of Hyunjin vanished like a wisp of smoke, leaving Felix surrounded by nothing but the vast emptiness of blackness.

“Hyunjin!” Felix’s voice cut through the haze like a blade, and in an instant, both their eyes fluttered open.

Felix sat back on his heels, one palm pressed to Hyunjin’s chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. Dust motes drifted in the fluorescent light as the world snapped sharply into focus.

From the margin of his vision, Felix registered Minho sprawling backward, knocked off balance by the force of his magic. Jisung’s arms were a vise around Minho as he assisted him; Seungmin and Jeongin backed several feet away, shocked expressions and brows knotted with fear that Felix’s power had gone too far. But none of it mattered. Felix and Hyunjin stared at each other, breaths suspended, the chaotic bustle behind them fading into silence.

He rarely used this spell, preferring subtler arts, but he knew its signature aftermath: a surge of calm laced with an undercurrent of euphoria. Any residual happiness clung to the heart like honey, magnified tenfold the moment someone awakened. Even now, Hyunjin’s expression held warmth beyond mere relief, as if gratitude were radiating from him in gentle waves.

Felix heard the king’s furious shouts—questions and accusations hurled at him—but Jisung’s iron grip pinned the older man in place, while Jeongin’s steady assurance that both Felix and Hyunjin appeared unharmed and were breathing finally stilled the royal panic.

Felix made a mental note to remind Jisung later not to harbor resentment against the king’s visible worries. After all, Felix was a stranger in these lands, belonging to a race that Levanter had historically distrusted. The king's protective fury was undoubtedly born out of a deep love for his brother, Felix was certain.

Yet as Felix’s gaze remained on Hyunjin, something shifted within him. He felt a swell of protectiveness, surprising in its intensity. This man, beneath him, eyes locked on his, chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm, deserved safeguarding more than any stranger ever could. From what, though Felix didn’t know, but his heart clenched at the thought of leaving him at the mercy of the world.

Slowly, Hyunjin’s tense features softened. His brows relaxed, and his mouth quivered at the corners as disbelief and wonder settled into his eyes. A faint curve emerged on his lips, fragile as a dawn light glimmering through stained glass. Felix’s chest warmed; he returned the smile with full force, wide and real, hoping to spark something genuine behind those dark lashes.

The change was instantaneous. Hyunjin’s eyes folded into crescent moons, his plush lips stretched back until pearly teeth gleamed against his sun-kissed skin. A breathy chuckle slipped free—a sound like silk sliding across stone—and Felix’s pulse raced at its sheer beauty. Hearing it outside the dreamscape made it all the more precious, as though the world had gifted him a secret glimpse of pure joy.

The room lay hushed, the only sound the echo of Felix’s own light giggle, mingling with Hyunjin’s in a soft, tender chorus.

Then there was a slight gasp as Jeongin moved away, his footsteps quick and purposeful, heading for the king. Hyunjin and Felix’s gazes broke apart, their eyes following Jeongin's swift movements to where Jisung was assisting Minho in standing. A thin, crimson stream of blood was trailing down Minho’s shoulder, escaping from a gash on the side of his head. His expression was blank, a mask of pure shock more than pain or fear.

“Your Majesty! You’re bleeding!” Jeongin exclaimed loudly, his voice echoing with alarm as he stood before Minho. His hand reached out tentatively, only to be smacked away by the older man, who shot him a glare so fierce it could have cut through steel.

“I hit something when I fell! I’m fine!” Minho snapped back, his voice sharp as he brushed imaginary debris off his garments with agitated hands. His brow furrowed deeply for a fleeting moment as he locked eyes with Hyunjin, his gaze intense and searching.

“Jinnie. What just happened? Are you okay?” Minho asked, his voice tinged with urgency and concern, which earned an incredulous scoff from Jisung, who stood nearby.

“Are you okay, Felix?” Jisung countered protectively, his eyes darting between the two figures.

Minho chose to ignore the comment, stepping forward with purpose toward Felix and Hyunjin. Both of them returned his approach with curt nods of acknowledgment.

Once assured that everyone was accounted for and there was no immediate danger, Felix quickly withdrew his hand from Hyunjin’s chest. He shifted back, a flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks as he recalled their prior interactions in his haven. Why had he spoken those words?

“Hyunjin,” Minho addressed sharply, though his tone lacked anger. Instead, it carried a genuine care for Hyunjin, etched deeply into the concern lines on his forehead.

“I’m… okay... I think…” Hyunjin replied softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he brought a shaky hand to his face, rubbing it roughly as if to erase lingering confusion.

“What did he do to you?” Minho asked, his voice devoid of malice, yet it wasn't fully kind or understanding either. It was a detached inquiry, guarded yet probing, seeking answers in the midst of chaos.

The barrage of questions caused Felix to tense up, his body rigid as he braced himself for the inevitable judgment and wrath that might befall him. Perhaps Hyunjin felt manipulated, as if he had been led astray, believing the Felix in this realm differed significantly from the real one. It might have been unintentional, but if Hyunjin perceived it that way, Felix felt he would rightfully deserve the scorn for giving false hope of finding solace beyond oneself. After all, that wasn't truly what Hyunjin needed, as Felix had come to realize.

"Minho," Hyunjin cautioned, his voice carrying a note of warning, yet Minho merely shook his head, effectively silencing his brother with a piercing glare before turning his piercing gaze towards Felix, seeking an explanation, though there was a lingering mistrust of the elf.

The tension in the room was palpable, wrapping everyone in a cloak of unease, causing them to shift awkwardly in their places. No one dared to move, except for Hyunjin, who seemed restless now, attempting to adjust himself on the bed for comfort. Seungmin, ever attentive, assisted him with gentle hands and remained steadfast at his brother's side, his presence a silent reassurance, as if fearing Hyunjin might falter at any moment.

"I will only speak of it if Hyunjin allows it," Felix declared politely, though there was an edge to his tone that betrayed his attempt to avoid sounding passive-aggressive. It was a failure, evident from the scowl that quickly marred Minho’s face. "I never intended any harm—”

Before Felix could complete his explanation, Hyunjin interrupted with a sternness that brooked no argument. His gaze fixed firmly on Minho, and his words were calm and articulate, carrying a weight of finality. “He showed me a vision of a beach to help me calm down. That’s it, Minho. Leave it at that," he stated simply, with a dismissive shrug as if trying to diminish the significance. “All that matters is that I’m not planning on jumping from the highest peak in Levanter as we speak, yeah?" he continued with a dry tone.

The bluntness of Hyunjin's statement left those nearby feeling a flush of embarrassment, their eyes darting away uncomfortably. All except for Seungmin, who frowned deeply in disapproval. “Don’t say that!" Seungmin reprimanded, his eyes widening slightly in horror at the notion that Hyunjin would jest about something as grave as that. But deep down, he recognized the absence of humor in the remark, understanding it for the raw, unvarnished truth it was.

After a brief moment of silence, the room erupted with a cacophony of voices, each person speaking over the other, exclaiming their worries or expressing disbelief at the recent events. Hyunjin, however, sat stoically on the bed, his eyes avoiding contact with anyone else, hands clasped neatly in his lap like a statue carved from stone. It was as if he had shut down entirely. Yet, Felix noticed the occasional subtle twitch of his fingers or the faintest hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips when others speculated about what might have happened or what Felix could have done to him.

Suddenly, Jeongin's voice cut through the noise like a sharp blade, demanding, "Everyone out!" His abrupt command startled them all mid-conversation, halting their bickering as he pointed authoritatively towards the exit. "Except you, Minho. You stay. I’m examining that wound whether you like it or not. Sit, Your Majesty. I can see the dizziness in your eyes." Jeongin's tone was firm, leaving no room for argument.

Seungmin, looking almost proud and impressed, gave a light bow before moving to leave. Meanwhile, Jisung folded his arms defiantly. "I’m not leaving Felix alone with you people. I was preoccupied for one single night and woke to discover he’d nearly died more than once!" Jisung's voice was strong and unwavering as he wrapped an arm around Felix’s shoulder, his determination evident.

Just then, a booming horn resonated loudly outside, its sound reverberating through the walls. The room fell silent immediately, each head turning in different directions, guided by their familiarity with the ominous sound. Felix, unfamiliar with the meaning of the horn, saw the sheer panic flashing across the faces around him, a clear indication that it was nothing good.

"Shit!" Seungmin exclaimed, pushing the door open and rushing towards whatever urgent situation awaited him, sparing only a quick glance back at Hyunjin as if silently urging him to stay put, before disappearing completely into the hallway beyond the doorframe.

Jeongin had to practically wrestle Minho to stop him from leaving, ultimately losing the physical struggle but managing to persuade him to wait at least two minutes so Jeongin could fetch his armor.

Meanwhile, Hyunjin hopped off the bed with such urgency that he nearly tangled his own feet beneath him. Jeongin shouted over his shoulder, commanding Hyunjin to stay put as well, promising he'd be back shortly.

The room descended into an eerie stillness, a silence so profound it seemed to echo in the ears of those left behind, as the door slammed shut behind Jeongin. Felix was left staring in bewilderment at the two remaining brothers, who ignored him before locking eyes with Jisung. Without a word, Jisung climbed into Felix's bed, sitting beside him, and tightening the protective arm around him, offering silent reassurance. Their eyes remained locked, a communication of unspoken fears and promises, until Jeongin burst back into the room moments later. He was clad in full leather armor, dark as night and accented with shining obsidian steel, carrying two armfuls of clothing before he unceremoniously dumped them onto the floor.

Minho hurriedly peeled off his garments, tossing them to the floor in a heap, before he hastily pulled on a pair of high-quality leather trousers. Hyunjin, on the other hand, selected an outfit that Felix noticed appeared lighter than the leather armor donned by Jeongin and Minho. It was adorned with crimson accents, striking yet practical, and was completed with the very cloak he had worn at their wedding. Neither soldier seemed to mind the presence of spectators; their focus was singular, especially Minho, who was unfazed by Jisung's presence, given their shared intimacy in the past.

Felix observed the brothers with a sense of unease, noticing how they smiled almost giddily, as if the gravity of the situation was a source of excitement rather than concern. "What's happening?" Felix voiced nervously, his eyes flickering between them with a mixture of apprehension and hope, desperate for an answer that never came.

Jeongin moved with a practiced efficiency, collecting various items while casting silent glances at his companions, as if counting down to an unspoken signal. With a swift motion, he tossed something to Hyunjin, who caught it with ease and nodded in response. The trio set off towards the door, their steps infused with an unusual vigor, and Minho's voice rang out, booming with enthusiasm, "It's about fucking time!"

Hyunjin let out a triumphant cackle, raising a spear high into the air in jubilant celebration. His voice rose in a howl, a wild, primal sound that seemed to summon others already gathered in the hallway, their excited shouts echoing in a cacophony of anticipation.

Amidst the uproar, Felix and Jisung were left in a mire of uncertainty. Jeongin paused at the doorway, turning back to rush to Felix to remove the IV from his arm, murmuring an apology for not having done so sooner. As he worked, his expression was one of sympathy, yet his eyes gleamed with an underlying eagerness. The usually timid, mild-mannered doctor seemed almost as thrilled about the impending events as his more daring companions, though his excitement was tinged with a touch of apprehension.

"We are under attack, but the fortress hasn't been infiltrated in over a thousand years, so you should be safe here," Jeongin explained in a soothing tone, trying to ignore the growing clamor outside.

Jisung exhaled a trembling breath, his arms tightening around Felix as if the embrace could steady the storm inside him. He clung to the contact, desperate for grounding. Across the room, Minho took several steps back toward the door, his voice cutting impatiently through the tension as he called for Jeongin. The doctor moved to respond, but before he could reach Minho, Jisung abruptly released Felix and sprang from the bed.

Without hesitation, he bolted across the room and hurled himself into Minho’s arms. The king caught him effortlessly, and their mouths collided in a kiss so fierce and consuming that Felix could only stare. It wasn’t lust. It wasn’t hunger. It was the kind of kiss that spoke of shattered hearts and unfinished promises—raw, aching desperation made flesh.

Felix’s gaze flicked toward the doorway where Hyunjin stood, stiff and unreadable. Was it discomfort in his eyes? Anger? Disgust? Whatever it was, he didn’t linger. He tore his gaze away from the scene as though it burned him. Felix couldn’t help but wonder if Hyunjin was only now learning of… whatever existed between his brother and Felix’s advisor. The thought twisted uneasily in his gut. He wanted to threaten Hyunjin, to protect Jisung as fiercely as he had to Jeongin, but something in the way Minho held his best friend—like he was air and blood and salvation—silenced the urge. Whatever Minho felt, it was undeniable. And Felix sensed, for the first time, despite learning the king shared some of his brother’s distrust for elves, he would not allow any harm to come to Jisung.

They remained locked together for what felt like eternity. Then Minho pulled back slightly, only for Jisung to smack him hard in the chest, even as tears streamed freely down his cheeks.

“I’m so fucking mad at you!” Jisung sobbed, his voice cracking under the weight of his grief. “So you have to come back, do you hear me? You have to come back so I can yell at you for being such an asshole to Felix, okay?” He buried his face in Minho’s neck, clutching him tighter, as though trying to hold back fate itself.

The weight of Jisung’s emotions filled the room, thick and suffocating. Felix could feel it crawling under his skin, overwhelming him. It was more than grief—it was the kind of desperation that threatened to hollow a person out. A part of him wondered, with something like fear, if he would ever feel that way about anyone. The idea of caring so deeply for someone—romantically, sexually, soulfully—terrified him in ways he couldn’t name.

Suddenly, the sound of coordinated chanting echoed through the halls—Hyunjin’s voice rising above the others, sharp with command and purpose. The kingdom was mobilizing. War was moments away.

Minho slowly disentangled himself from Jisung, fingers lingering before he turned. As he reached the door, he locked eyes with Felix—just for a heartbeat—but it was enough. A silent apology passed between them. Then he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him like a final punctuation.

Jisung collapsed to the ground in the aftermath, curling inward, arms wrapped around his middle as he sobbed without shame. The sounds of war faded, and an eerie stillness settled over the room.

Felix pushed himself out of bed, ignoring the protest in his limbs. He crossed to Jisung in a few long strides and dropped to his knees beside him. The moment he got close, Jisung latched onto him, pressing tear-soaked cheeks to Felix’s collarbone like a child seeking shelter from a storm.

“What’s wrong with me?” Jisung whispered, broken and bewildered.

Felix held him close, whispering soft shushing sounds as he stroked his hair. He knew words alone couldn’t fix this—but maybe a little levity could help. Jisung had always done the same for him.

“Remind me—what’s that phrase you love to use?” Felix said gently. “I think you’ve caught feelings.”

Jisung nodded wordlessly, still trembling against him. A flicker of amusement curled at the corner of Felix’s lips.

“Or I’m just cock-whipped,” Jisung choked out through his tears. “And if that’s the case, how pathetic is that?! There’s no such thing as a cock worth crying over!”

Felix barked out a laugh, unable to hold it back, though he clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle it.

“You’re just anxious. War never touched Feloran soil. We’ve both been sheltered from this kind of fear. But you’ve told me yourself—Levanter has endured countless sieges. It hasn’t fallen yet.” He hesitated, voice softening. “And from what I saw… your paramour and my husband seem pretty confident it won’t fall today either.”

Jisung chuckled weakly, wiping at his eyes. “Paramour?” he echoed, teasing.

Felix gave a small nod. “Mm-hmm.”

Jisung finally leaned back enough to meet Felix’s eyes, his own red and swollen, but more focused now.

Felix blinked slowly, realization hitting him like a slow wave. “It’s only just now hitting me that you’re sleeping with my husband’s brother.”

Jisung snorted, shaking his head fondly.

Then, Felix’s face softened with nostalgia.

“Do you remember,” Felix began, “when we were kids and your mother asked what we were going to do without each other when we got older and settled down with other people?”

Jisung’s eyes lit up through the haze of grief. He laughed—a real one, full and honest. “I said we’d just marry siblings.”

The smile faded slowly from his face, replaced by something far heavier. “But… there’s a lot I need to tell you, Felix. Things Minho told me about Hyunjin—things I didn’t know. Things you probably don’t know either.”

Felix’s brow furrowed with curiosity. “What kind of things? Are they… good or bad?”

Jisung hesitated, rubbing his temple as if the truth itself caused him discomfort. But his eyes never left Felix’s.

“They’re not actually brothers by blood at all.”

Chapter Text

Felix stormed back and forth in Jisung’s chambers, every fiber of his being strung tight with anxious energy, desperate for any indication that the brutal clash outside had ceased. Hours slipped by like a slow, torturous drip of time. Jisung, unable to bear the weight of his own anxiety, had resorted to pilfering anxiety drugs from the med ward. They shared a meager meal, and Jisung eventually succumbed to exhaustion, collapsing into a restless sleep on the bed.

Every noise caused Felix to flinch in fright as imaginary images of dying soldiers flashed before his eyes—he could almost taste the metallic tang of blood saturating the Levanter air.

His thoughts spiraled into chaos, questioning the very nature of human endurance. How could anyone fight for so long? Was there some dark enchantment sustaining these warriors, warding off the inevitable fatigue that should have crippled them by now? What sorcery fueled their relentless stamina? Were their muscles not screaming for the mercy of rest?

Ignorance clawed at Felix, a cold realization that he understood nothing of war’s brutal mechanics. Did the warring parties ever attempt diplomacy, a fragile truce, before descending into the abyss of conflict? Was there a solemn handshake, a moment of humanity, before blades clashed? Or did the battlefield become a morbid hospital, with soldiers tending to their fallen brothers long after the clash had ended? What if neither side emerged victorious, locked in a stalemate that promised only more bloodshed, more ruin?

His mind reeled, spinning with the weight of everything Jisung had revealed to him. The king, along with his seemingly endless stream of siblings, were bastards, born of various fathers—an unfathomable scenario for a royal in Felora, where such an occurrence would never be permitted. Adding to this was the fact that their rulers were chosen through democracy rather than lineage, a custom that struck Felix as bizarre and foreign. Most astonishing of all was the revelation that Hyunjin, his husband, had no blood relation to the royal family as he had come to believe. He had been discovered as a mere child, nestled beneath the protective wing of a slain dragon, and was taken in to be raised by the queen herself. Despite this, Felix had observed in his brief time here that Hyunjin's brothers cherished him as if they shared true blood ties.

This notion should not have been so hard to grasp, given the way his own mother had staunchly defended her close friend when her promiscuity resulted in Jisung’s birth. Jisung, too, was a bastard of unknown lineage, yet Felix loved him all the same, without reservation. However, Jisung was neither a king nor a commander; he didn’t wield power over a nation. These Levanter offspring, born of free love, did. This realization somewhat helped Felix make sense of what he had witnessed the previous day—Hyunjin reprimanding a dragon with the casual authority one might use with a disobedient pet dog, and the majestic beast obeying him.

It was all too overwhelming to digest. What had his family sent him into? Had they known of these peculiarities when they agreed to negotiate with this nation, or was this knowledge intentionally kept from them? The thought left a bitter taste, laced with the suspicion that perhaps his family had been deceived, and he found it difficult to accept. Felix had to reconcile with the fact that he was essentially bound in marriage to an enigma. The origins of his blood were a mystery, and who could say what secrets it contained?

While lost in thought, Felix was jolted by a firm knock on the door. He jumped slightly, snapping his neck toward it with a startled gasp caught in his throat. Jisung, who had been resting, sprang awake with wide, alert eyes as Felix cautiously approached the door to open it.

Standing there was the lady who had guided Felix to his chambers on the night of his wedding. Her demeanor was frantic, and her eyes darted anxiously as she gripped his wrist with a sense of urgency.

“The castle could be infiltrated at any moment now!” she exclaimed, her voice trembling with urgency. “We are surrounded on every side! We must quickly gather beneath the keep. There is a safe room built for protection!" Her breaths came in quick, labored bursts as she tugged him along, but not before he shouted over his shoulder for Jisung, who quickly slid off the bed and dashed after them.

As they sped down a corridor, Felix couldn't help but protest, his voice echoing slightly against the stone walls. “I thought this was an impregnable castle! No enemy has breached—”

“They haven’t yet breached the fortress," she interrupted hastily, her voice a mere whisper of urgency, "but our scouts spotted an incoming group scaling the other side of the mountain. It appears the initial attack was a distraction to keep our forces occupied on the north side. It’s best to remain secure within the confines of the safe room just in case.” She led him further down the passage until they reached a grand stairwell. The steps descended into shadow, and they hurried down the flights as fast as their legs would carry them.

Felix clung tightly to Jisung’s hand as they descended, his heart pounding in his chest. He desperately hoped their destination was close, feeling the strain from his recent magic use linger in his muscles. The thought of vomiting on their escort, who was literally saving their lives by guiding them to safety, was far from appealing.

At the bottom of the stairs, Felix halted abruptly when Jisung released his grip and moved toward a massive mahogany double door. The door was a masterpiece, accented with red plating intricately carved into artistic patterns resembling swirling fire embers that danced upward and outward. The doors loomed directly across from them, imposing and majestic.

“Ji!” Felix exclaimed, his voice laced with disbelief as he watched Jisung stop dead in his tracks, turning to offer an apologetic glance.

“Felix, you’ve exhausted your power, but I have not. This is our home now. I have to help in any way I can,” Jisung's voice hardened with resolve.

"This is not my home!" Felix's voice cracked with emotion, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "Levanter has treated me with nothing but contempt since we arrived. And now you're planning on using your magic to defend them? Hyunjin tried to kill me!"

Jisung's face softened, his eyes betraying a flicker of guilt. "And yet you still helped him, Felix. How is this any different?”

Felix's voice trembled with disbelief, eyes wide with shock. "I aided him with the venom before he dared to attempt to take my life. I stilled his pitiful weeping because that kind of magic posed no threat to me, no matter the outcome! But you, you're about to charge into the chaos of battle?! Have you lost your mind?! What has the king done to drive you to this madness?! I will not let you hurl yourself into battle, Han Jisung. You're my dearest friend, my brother in all but blood! I forbid you from charging into certain death!" Felix hurried over and clutched Jisung's forearm with desperate fingers.

Jisung gazed at him with an intensity that seemed out of place on his typically jovial face, his eyes steady and serious before taking Felix’s hands into his. "Has Hyunjin ever forced you to do... things against your will, or has he ever laid hands on you inappropriately?" he asked, his voice firm yet concerned.

"He tried to kill me!" came the immediate, emotional response.

"Aside from that!" Jisung pressed gently but insistently. "You told me that you didn't truly believe it was him in that moment, especially considering how he reacted when he snapped back to reality, right?"

The servant woman shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting between them. "Please, we must hurry—"

“What are you getting at?” Felix whispered, his voice trembling under the crushing realization that once Jisung made a decision, it was like a decree carved in stone—unyielding and irreversible. No amount of persuasion, argument, or bribery could sway him.

“You hate him, I get it—believe me, I do too! Give me the okay, and I will deck him in the face for being so nasty to you! But what if he is the lesser of two evils? You are one of the most desired beings in existence, Felix. Who's to say the invading army doesn't answer to a tyrant who would make Hyunjin seem like a saint?" Jisung's words were deliberate, his gaze unflinching, as if daring Felix to understand. “The commander's hatred for you is that of a child’s, and I am certain you could best that bastard even on your worst day. You already did. But..."

He paused, drawing a slow, deliberate breath. Felix's expression twisted in horror at the thought.

Jisung pressed on, despising the truth he was forced to speak, but knowing the brutal reality of warfare.

“What happens if Levanter falls to someone far more vicious than we could ever envision? What becomes of you? What fate awaits the women? The children? A quick death or an eternity of torment as a slave to warm some monster's cock and have pieces of your skin flayed little by little for the amusement of deranged maniacs? Would you gamble away the virtue and lives of all these innocent souls just to protect mine? Or because of your hatred for Hyunjin? Is the entirety of Levanter responsible for the way he speaks to you?" He demanded, his voice quivering with urgency, as he came to his own chilling epiphany.

One rotten seed could poison the mind and cloud judgment, much like Minho's distrust of Felix over his brother's life. Perhaps there was a reason, some logic, behind it—a bad seed of the past— but it remained indefensible. Yet, it didn't define someone as bad because here he stood, pleading with his best friend over a similar concept, confident in the knowledge that Felix was inherently good. The fierce urge to protect loved ones could easily warp perception.

Felix's mind spun in a chaotic whirlwind, gripped by a suffocating sense of dread. The thought was unbearable—his friend standing defenseless against lethal weapons, brandished by seasoned warriors trained for years in the art of combat. Jisung had neither armor nor weapons, and critically, no combat skills to speak of. Yet, the fierce determination blazing in Jisung's eyes was undeniable, a silent declaration that this was where he belonged. Felix felt a torrent of emotions crashing over him, his heart pounding as he forced himself to nod with a steely resolve. He gripped Jisung's shoulders tightly, locking eyes with an intensity that spoke of determination.

"If you're doing this, you will not be doing it alone," Felix said unyieldingly.

He took a deliberate step back, dismissing Jisung's frantic protests, and locked eyes with the woman who stood waiting, her expression a mix of anticipation and doubt. He pushed past the panic, swallowing painfully around the knot tightening in his throat. Desperation laced his voice as he forced out the question he dreaded.

"Where can we find armor and weaponry?" he inquired.

Chapter Text

Rain lashed the battlefield, turning stone and mud into a slick deathtrap. Soldiers slipped, skidded, and crashed into one another—every footfall a riot of exhaustion and despair. Hours of slaughter had seared fatigue into their bones. Blood pooled in rivulets, staining swords, soaking into the earth, filling the air with a sick copper stench.

They’d beaten back the first charge, but then enemies swarmed from every ridge and hollow, endless masses likely driven by the desire to take down Levanter once and for all. Wave after wave surged, luring Levanter’s defenders toward the mountain’s base.

Hyunjin moved like a tempest. He jabbed his spear through shields, yanked blades free, and spun opponents onto each other’s steel. When they pressed too close, he drew his sword and carved a crimson arc through flesh and bone. Rage pounded in his veins, drowning every whisper of mercy.

Drenched in mud and gore—red, black, brown—he peeled off his chainmail mask, wiping sweat and blood from his jaw. Beside him, his elder brother Minho buckled after taking a kick to the back of his knee. Seungmin—sword at the ready—slid in, silencing the attacker with a vicious slicing of the throat.

Minho's lungs burned with each gasp for air, his hands trembling as they clutched his knees. Beside him, Seungmin stood tall, guarding his brother and stealing furtive glances at Jeongin's anxious eyes, a silent reassurance amidst the havoc.

“If there are more, I’m going to have to—” Hyunjin lunged forward, but Minho’s voice cut him off.

“No.” Minho’s tone was steel.

A surge of searing agony suddenly ripped through Minho’s ribs, causing him to lurch forward, his teeth grinding together in a symphony of pain.

“Minho!” Jeongin dashed to his side, his eyes scanning for threats in the distance, flinching at every muffled clash that echoed around them. “Retreat to the castle with me. Let me examine you, Your Majesty.”

Minho straightened, his jaw clenched tightly as he emitted a bitter laugh, raw and edged with suffering. “I thought you knew better by now.” He suppressed a groan of anguish. “A worthy ruler is first on the field and last off.”

“And if you don’t leave at all? You already hit your head before the battle. You shouldn’t have even—” Seungmin's voice rose, escalating into a fervent argument as he locked eyes with his older brother, their brows furrowed in mutual defiance. They were so absorbed in their heated exchange that neither noticed the shadow that loomed, stealthily gathering above like a dark cloud ready to unleash its storm. From the peak of a massive boulder, a figure launched itself—a blur of raw muscle and sharpened steel, descending with the precision of a hawk diving toward its unsuspecting prey. The warrior's axe gleamed under the dull light, tracing a deadly silver arc that whispered of impending doom. The axe connected with flesh in a sickening crunch that reverberated through Seungmin's very bones, extracting a cry that tore from his throat, ragged and filled with unbearable pain. The scream pierced the air, familiar and gut-wrenching, jerking Hyunjin's heart into freefall as he spun around, eyes wide with horror.

In that same heartbeat, the attacker crumpled to his knees, his life extinguished as he fell backwards, limp and lifeless. All eyes turned to Jeongin, standing firm with a gaze that could cut through steel, his blade glistening with a fresh coat of crimson. The dark liquid traced its way down the length of the steel, leaving a stark trail. Jeongin's eyes flickered over the lifeless body at his feet with a chilling detachment before shifting his focus to Seungmin.

Seungmin had crumpled to the ground, his knees digging into the earth, his face twisted in a mask of sheer agony. He clutched at his shoulder, now shattered and bleeding profusely, the pain evident in the tears that welled in his eyes and the trembling of his hands.

With precision and haste, Jeongin dropped to his knees next to Seungmin and drew him close. His fingers worked swiftly over the leather straps, loosening the bindings that secured the armor in place, allowing him better access to the wound.

Minho's voice rumbled like distant thunder as he bared his teeth and lifted his sword high, the blade glistening with crimson rivulets. “Here I am! You mother fuckers! Come get me!” he bellowed, his battle cry slicing through the air. The infantry surrounding him surged forward, their eyes aflame with newfound fervor, as if his defiant challenge had lit a fire in their souls.

As if on cue, the unmistakable roar of a massive wave of enemy soldiers surged forward, crashing into the soldiers with a thunderous force. The clash of metal rang out violently, swords and shields colliding with a fierce intensity. Warriors engaged in brutal hand-to-hand combat, their bodies a blur of movement, as they faced off against Minho's infantry across the vast expanse of the battlefield. The air was thick with the sound of grunts and the sharp clang of weapons, each strike echoing like a battle cry.

"Hold fast. Especially you," Hyunjin teased, giving Minho a playful nudge with his elbow. He readied his sword, holding it steadily in front of him, as he nodded toward Seungmin and Jeongin, signaling them to make their retreat. The air was tense with anticipation, yet Hyunjin's voice carried a hint of mischief. "After all, you finally have someone to celebrate victory with... Speaking of— when exactly were you planning on telling me about your interest in Feloran men?" His eyes twinkled with amusement, a sly grin playing on his lips as he glanced sideways at Minho.

Minho let out a huff, his smile shining brightly even given the circumstances, and arched an eyebrow in a playful challenge. "I could say the same for you, brother. What was all that giggling about? I haven't seen you grin like that since you downed me at my own birthday tourney... asshole," he remarked with a teasing tone as the surrounding volume increased.

Hyunjin snorted, pushing off his brother slightly before throwing his chainmail mask aside, needing every sense he could possible get with reflexes affected by sheer exhaustion.

"You’re too optimistic," Hyunjin retorted, though his tone lacked conviction. "That was merely the aftereffects of sedation, I’m sure. All hells would freeze over before I would engage in any ‘celebrations’ with that elf.”

His elder sibling shot him an amused glance, a small smirk playing on their lips, just as a group of soldiers approached, their clanking armor and heavy footsteps cutting through the chatter and chaos surrounding them.

Before they were separated by the advancing soldiers, Hyunjin heard a shout above the din. "Your doing or his?"

Hyunjin paused mid-swing, narrowly avoiding a blade that whistled through the air toward his neck. With a swift, fluid motion, he counterattacked, his weapon meeting flesh with a sickening thud, slicing upward through skin and bone with precision.

"Both," he loudly answered, his voice mingled with the clamor of battle.

In tandem, they glided with seamless precision, their synchronized movements forming a lethal ballet. As they separated, Hyunjin swung his weapon with formidable force, effortlessly driving back three adversaries in one sweeping arc. He lunged forward with unyielding determination, felling those bold enough to confront the doctor and his wounded brother, his heartbeat thrumming in sync with the surrounding turmoil. Amidst the pandemonium, the vibrant banners of Levanter still fluttered defiantly in the air.

Jeongin had managed to stabilize Seungmin just enough to begin their arduous trek back to the towering castle. Despite his deep concern for his friend's well-being, he couldn't help but be quite amused by the sight of Minho and Hyunjin engaging in the most casual, lighthearted conversations. Their voices blended with the chaotic symphony of clashing swords and shouts echoing through the air. The contrast was striking: their light-hearted chatter danced lightly over the tumultuous backdrop, as if they were merely strolling through a peaceful garden, rather than maneuvering through the pandemonium that surrounded them.

“Although he did insinuate that if I were a nicer person, he might—" Hyunjin paused, swiftly intercepting an axelimb with the fluidity of a seasoned warrior. He twisted his opponent's arm with sudden, brutal precision until it snapped audibly in multiple places, the sickening crunch echoing above the din of battle. His victim cried out in sheer agony, but the scream was swiftly silenced as Hyunjin brought the flat end of his sword crashing down upon the man's skull.

“Then be a nicer person!” Minho stated firmly, his voice tinged with amusement, even as he expertly skewered two men with a single thrust. With a powerful kick, he sent another enemy reeling backward with such ferocity that the unfortunate warrior collided with his comrade's blade, the sharp steel impaling him with lethal efficiency.

Hyunjin let out a dry, humorless laugh in response. “Again, you’re too optimistic. You know what he is,” he replied, his tone laced with a hint of skepticism.

His words earned him a disapproving glance from Minho, who wiped his face clean of the blood splattered across his features from the chaotic skirmish. Minho's eyes shone with wild excitement, a smile playing on his lips despite his body's weary protests.

“Aye, I do. I also know what his advisor is, and that doesn’t change the feelings I have for him," Minho admitted, his voice a mix of determination and faint hope.

Hyunjin chuckled dryly once more. “After the way you acted today, you might have lost that one.”

“I acted immaturely out of worry. I acted far too much like… you,” Minho murmured, his eyes downcast and his shoulders slumped in self-reflection. “I will just have to dedicate the rest of my life to atoning for my misdemeanour and pray that he might see one day me worthy of forgiveness,” he added, his voice soft yet resonant with genuine sincerity. The warmth in his tone underscored his earnestness, as if he were trying to convey his remorse through every word. "I can only strive to improve myself and become someone deserving of the affections of such an extraordinary person," he added, his gaze distant as if lost in a sea of regret, each word heavy with the weight of his emotions. "Perhaps you should try it sometime."

Hyunjin froze for a moment, his sword gripped tightly in his hand as he stood on the battlefield, surrounded by the clang of metal and cries of warriors. His mind spun with thoughts that delved into the shadows of doubt and reflection, far too profound for the heat of combat. But beside him, Minho pressed on, his eyes now focused and determined as he cut through the fray.

"Give your husband a chance, Jinnie," he pleaded, his voice carrying a note of earnest persuasion. "Even if just physically. Don't pay any heed to the rumors and stereotypes about Felorans in bed. Believe me, Han Jisung is, by far, the best lay I've ever had," he added, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he leaned in closer, as if sharing a closely guarded secret.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, unwilling to imagine his brother with the half-elf. “Are you sure he’s not the only lay you’ve had?” He taunted. 

His older brother pretended to be offended, his jaw dropping before he scoffed. “Forgive me for being far more selective with my partners. You know, some of us have sex for enjoyment, not some fucked up self-deprecating coping mechanism, and we sleep with people we actually have feelings for, not just with whoever is on the roster that day."

Hyunjin's shoulders tensed as Minho's words landed with the force of a sucker punch, the playful lilt in his brother's voice doing little to soften the blow. His fingers, slick with sweat, faltered around the leather-wrapped hilt of the swords. Beneath Minho's teasing comment lay a harsh truth, hidden like a buried stone. Yet, Hyunjin knew it was nothing more than an innocent jab, a playful exchange that Minho himself was unaware of the weight it carried.

Hyunjin steeled himself, even as his heart wavered slightly, pushing aside the sting of his brother’s jest, knowing they couldn’t afford distractions now. In the blink of an eye, amid his momentary lapse, a sharp sting erupted just below his left eye. He winced as a thin line of blood trickled down his cheek. Anger flared within him, and he reacted instinctively, his arm snapping out. The blade bit deeply into his attacker's arm, crimson liquid gushing forth. The assailant staggered back, eyes wide with shock. Seizing his chance, Hyunjin surged forward, thrusting his sword upward with precision, finding the vulnerable gap beneath the rib cage. He could feel the blade slicing through yielding flesh, traveling down through the abdomen. With a firm yank, he withdrew the sword.

"JINNIE!" was the only thing Minho managed to yell before the arrow hurtled toward his brother. It all unfolded too quickly for Hyunjin to respond appropriately, but Minho moved with cat-like agility, standing like a protective shield in front of him as he shoved him forcefully down to safety.

The bolt sliced through the air with a sharp, whistling sound, cutting through the atmosphere with deadly precision until it embedded itself into Minho's back. A sickening thud echoed as the force propelled him forward, crashing atop Hyunjin with a heavy thump, eliciting a loud grunt from both. The two brothers locked eyes, their gazes wide with shock as they tried to process the chaos that had just unfolded around them. Their chests heaved, rising and falling in rapid succession as they struggled to regain their breath, each inhalation tinged with the metallic scent of blood and sweat.

Hyunjin's eyes were round with disbelief, glistening with unshed tears. He whispered, "Minho," his voice trembling as he clung desperately to his brother's tunic beneath the gleaming armor plates, his fingers digging into the fabric as if trying to anchor them both to the present moment. Panic gripped him, a cold, relentless wave that washed over his senses, as he strained to lift himself alongside Minho, his muscles burning with the effort, dreading the worst with every heartbeat.

His mind was a maelstrom of horrifying visions: blood gushing from Minho's mouth, his eyes losing focus, and his body growing cold and lifeless. The twin forces of fear and desperation threatened to engulf him completely.

But then, to Hyunjin's immense relief, Minho's lips curled into a lazy smirk, even as his breath came in labored gasps. He gave a reassuring pat on Hyunjin's arm.

"Flesh wound," Minho declared, his voice steady despite the situation. He began to rise, but not before revealing the wound to his brother, allowing Hyunjin to snap off part of the arrow's shaft. Extracting the arrow entirely was too perilous a task to attempt.

Hyunjin's vocal cords trembled with anxiety, his words catching in his throat as tears gathered in his lashes. He stood there, hands shaking, as he helped his brother Minho straighten up properly. On the battlefield, Hyunjin was known for his ruthless, maniacal demeanor, rarely allowing such emotions to surface. Yet in that fleeting moment, something within him was deeply unsettled, more than Minho could likely fathom.

The archer responsible for Minho’s injury had already been dispatched by none other than Changbin. With his sharp eyes, Changbin glanced at Minho's wound with a nonchalant air before turning his attention back to the approaching wave of the enemy.

"You look like shit. Are you sure you don’t want to retreat while you still have the chance?" Changbin quipped with a half-hearted jest, as he methodically wiped the blood from his sword onto the tattered clothes of a fallen foe. He stood firm beside the brothers, exuding a quiet confidence.

“I’m putting a sword through the next person who suggests I abandon my people,” Minho retorted irritably, earning a hearty laugh from Changbin, which Hyunjin weakly joined, a flicker of camaraderie amid the chaos.

Hyunjin cast a glance over his shoulder, searching for signs of Jeongin and Seungmin to ensure they had escaped safely. His breath caught as he took in the summit of the mountain, where what appeared to be a swarm of ants had laid siege. But these were no ants; they were legions upon legions of soldiers, thousands strong, pouring down the peak like a relentless tide, heading straight for the castle.

“Holy fucking shit,” Hyunjin mumbled shakily, his voice barely audible over the relentless pounding of the rain. He tightened his grip on his weapon, its cold, slick surface offering little comfort. With urgency, he nudged his comrades, signaling them to pay attention to the unfolding situation. The rain, now a torrential downpour, washed away the grime from their faces but did nothing to clear the suffocating tension that hung in the air.

When Minho's eyes met the unexpected sight, it felt as though his heart plummeted into an abyss, a wave of dread crashing over him with a force he had never experienced before. “Hyunjin. Now,” he instructed urgently, striving to mask the panic that threatened to crack his voice, though it trembled nonetheless.

Hyunjin noted his earnestness and nodded, eagerness and determination etched into his features, and sprinted off in the opposite direction. Meanwhile, Minho let out a piercing whistle, a shrill note cutting through the chaos, as he redirected his soldiers to intercept the advancing army emerging from the other side of the mountain.

“Levanter will not fall today!” Minho bellowed, his voice rising above the clamor of the storm. His comrades' shouts followed, repeating the sentiment loudly. He rallied them around himself, an anchor in the swirling sea of chaos, determined to hold their ground against the formidable force bearing down upon them.

Deep down, he was certain their survival hinged solely on Hyunjin. Though it wasn’t a method he favored, it felt like their only hope now.

Chapter Text

Felix and Jisung had barely dashed a hundred yards from the looming castle when a barrage of arrows descended like a vengeful storm. Desperately shielding themselves with hastily scavenged armor, terror clawed at their minds, a wild beast threatening to unravel their composure. The relentless rain lashed at them, each drop like a piercing shard of ice against their skin as their boots struggled for traction, slipping and sliding over the mud-slicked path as they fought to stay upright.

"This was a stupid idea!" Jisung screamed through the cacophony, his voice cracking with raw panic.

Beside him, Felix stood firm, his muscles tense as he wielded a shield that glimmered with a deep, blood-red hue. The air crackled with tension as arrows, sharp and deadly, streaked towards him. Each arrow met the shield with a sharp clang, deflecting harmlessly to the ground.

His hands trembled with each impact, but his grip remained steadfast, his elvish reflexes the only thing keeping them alive.

"This was your idea!" Felix shot back, his eyes darting with the wild intensity of a cornered animal. They crouched on the mountain's southern side, every step a perilous dance with death on the rain-slick ground that seemed determined to sabotage their every move.

Clad in a hodgepodge of armor, they looked like a mismatched collection from a warrior's bargain bin—a black leather armor that seemed to whisper tales of dubious past owners, red metal chest plates gleaming like warning beacons, and helmets that concealed their identities, revealing only narrow eye slits. Armed merely with swords that had seen better days and shields that bore the scars of countless skirmishes, they stood ready. Yet, despite their preparation, the volley of arrows felt like an assault from phantoms, as no visible enemy appeared to be nearby.

Felix's delicate features hardened into a mask of trepidation, his golden eyelashes blinking away raindrops that threatened to obscure his vision.

Jisung's elbow jabbed frantically into Felix's side, pulling him from his thoughts. Felix followed Jisung's urgent pointing to the sky above, where an ominous scene unfolded: shadowy figures poured down in an unrelenting wave, cascading off the mountaintops like a dark, unstoppable tide—hundreds upon hundreds of them.

The Levanter forces were embroiled in battle elsewhere, fiercely defending another crucial entry point into the keep. This left their current area dangerously vulnerable, manned only by a smattering of scouts atop the mountain peaks, likely already defeated, their defenses woefully inadequate for the onslaught they now faced.

“Ji, w-what do we do? How are there this many? How did they—what's happening—" Felix's voice trembled as another volley of arrows sliced through the air, their sharp tips glinting menacingly in the dim light. He yanked Ji closer, his heart pounding in his chest, shielding them both to protect them from the deadly barrage. His eyes darted frantically across the chaotic scene, searching for any sign of refuge—a crevice in the rocky terrain or a thicket dense enough to provide cover.

“I don’t know! Do we retreat or—“

“We can’t!” Felix shouted, his voice cracking with urgency. He glanced over the fortress walls, seeing the sprawling mass of Levanter’s army on the other side. The enemy loomed like a dark sea ready to crash over the battlements. “If they break through, they can storm the castle! There are innocent men, women, and children inside! We can’t let these invaders reach the keep! You said it yourself!” His eyes darted to the steep incline.

“Two against ten thousand aren’t very good odds, Felix!” Jisung yelled, his voice rising to a pitch of desperation. Suddenly, with a rush of wind and a blur of motion, a man hurtled down from the cliffside, landing with a thud in front of them. The attacker lunged, his sword slicing through the air, forcing Felix to react on instinct.

Felix’s former training kicked in, his muscles moving with a memory of their own. His arm swung his sword in a swift horizontal arc, but the attacker, with eyes cold and calculating, blocked the strike effortlessly. A brutal kick followed, sending Felix skidding backward, his boots scraping against the dirt, until he collided with Jisung. The impact knocked the wind out of both of them as they hit the ground in a tangled heap.

As the attacker closed in, his eyes filled with murderous intent, Jisung pressed his palm into the soaked ground, a silent plea escaping his lips in ancient elvish. The air shimmered with magic as tendrils of water snaked up from the puddles, twisting through the air with serpentine grace. They found the intruder’s mouth, forcing their way in, filling his lungs and silencing his battle cry into a gurgle. The man staggered, his sword slipping from his grasp, as he coughed and choked, stumbling backward until he collapsed, lifeless.

Felix and Jisung lay there for a moment, their breaths mingling with the damp earth, their eyes wide in shock. The silence was heavy but short-lived. They scrambled to their feet, eyes darting to the bodies now surrounding them. More men had landed, their shadows cast long and menacing in the dull light, their eyes locked on Felix and Jisung with lethal intent.

In an instant, more figures descended around them, the sound of their landing like thunder, enclosing the two in a tightening circle.

“Ji…” Felix's voice trembled, barely above a whisper, as he stepped closer to his friend. Their backs pressed together, forming a fragile barrier against the encroaching danger. The circle of men surrounding them tightened, eyes glinting with predatory anticipation, their movements akin to wolves toying with their prey.

Felix’s heart pounded in his chest, each beat a reminder of his mortality. He clung to the hope that if he were to fall, it would be swift, and somehow, against all odds, Jisung would survive. Perhaps the king would, too, granting his friend a future filled with happiness. It wasn't the kind of thought one should harbor when staring death in the face, but it was all Felix had. He had dreams and desires yet to fulfill, but if his end came, he would find solace in the knowledge that he fought to protect those he loved.

“You’re the best friend anyone could ever ask for, Felix," Jisung's voice cracked with emotion, tears welling in his eyes. The clatter of swords being unsheathed around them was a harsh symphony, setting the stage for the impending fight, a battle they had little hope of winning.

As if time itself ceased to exist, Felix was plunged into a harrowing vision of the devastation that would follow should Levanter fall. He saw elderly men, whose sole desire was to immerse themselves in the quiet solace of a book by the fire, being slaughtered with ruthless abandon. Women of the keep, like the kind lady who had just valiantly attempted to lead him to safety, subjected to unspeakable violations and brutalization, left to bleed and beg for death's mercy. The horrific tableau unfolding with children witnessing these nightmarish acts, only to endure savage beatings that would snuff out their young lives, whether before or after their innocence was shattered. He envisioned a mother, her mind fractured, clutching her sons—boys far too young to shoulder the crushing burden of a kingdom—sobbing over their lifeless bodies, as despair swallowed her whole.

His resolve was an indomitable, unbreakable force. It snuffed out any glimmer of hesitation with a fierce, unwavering determination that roared through him like a raging inferno, consuming everything in its path.

Without warning, Felix lunged forward, his sword a blur of silver fury. He caught two adversaries off guard, his blade slicing through their thighs with brutal efficiency. One fell to the ground with a thud, while Felix drove his weapon into the second man's torso, the resistance of flesh and bone palpable as he withdrew it. Undeterred, he swung again, meeting the steel of a third opponent. The clash reverberated through his bones, frustration mingling with his resolve, teeth clenched in defiance. He would not yield, not while breath still filled his lungs.

Emboldened by Felix's courage, Jisung joined the fray, his own sword arcing through the air. Each strike met its mark, leaving crimson trails in its wake. But soon, the press of bodies backed him into a corner, desperation lending strength to his magic. He called upon the elements, harnessing the rain itself. With a wave of his hand, droplets hurtled forward like bullets, striking their enemies squarely in the eyes, blinding them momentarily.

Felix's agonized cry cut through the chaos, freezing Jisung in place. He spun around, horror etched on his face, as he saw Felix stagger, blood pouring from a deep gash in his thigh. The sight sent ice through Jisung’s veins, the reality of their peril crashing down upon him like a tidal wave.

Blinded by a surge of rage, Jisung unleashed the spell once more, sending a barrage of pellets tearing through the air with lethal force. They ripped through the assailant’s skulls like bullets, shattering bone and spraying a gruesome mist of blood, fragments of skull, and brain matter across Felix’s armor before the lifeless body collapsed with a sickening thud.

Jisung reached out to steady Felix, but his friend nudged him off with a harsh breath, eyes locked on the corpse, his teeth grinding with a fury that matched Jisung's.

Suddenly, a vice-like grip seized Jisung’s wrist. Instinct took over as he drove his forehead into the attacker’s nose, a crunch echoing the moment the bone shattered, freeing him. Without hesitation, he drove his knee into the man’s groin, then kicked him with enough force to send him reeling backward off the cliff they hadn’t realized was so close.

Despite their ferocity, the overwhelming number of their ambushers was daunting, not to mention the archers perched on the cliffs above. Yet, surrender was not an option as the relentless battle raged on.

In an instant, Felix was violently disarmed and hurled onto the muddy ground with bone-jarring force, his helmet flying off as he hit the earth with a harsh, metallic clatter. He let out a guttural grunt, straining with every ounce of strength to throw off the massive brute pinning him down. Despite his desperate struggle, his efforts were utterly futile.

Pinned with a brutal force, Felix gasped for air, his lungs ablaze with agony, as the brute above him sneered, eyes ablaze with a savage, almost inhuman delight. The grip on Felix’s wrists was like iron, squeezing tighter, drawing a pained groan from deep within him. Desperately, Felix turned his head to the side, trying to escape that predatory gaze, fighting down the bile rising in his throat as his stomach twisted with a nauseating intensity.

His eyes fluttered open, wide and pleading, locking onto his friend across the way. Felix silently willed Jisung to flee, to seek aid, but instead, he was met with the sight of Jisung’s without his helmet, revealing eyes wide with terror. Those dark brown eyes were mirrors of fear as Jisung screamed, his voice raw, limbs flailing in a desperate, hysterical attempt to resist the two assailants pressing him into the earth, grinding his face into the mud with relentless force.

Jisung's breath came in ragged gasps, a blade pressed menacingly to his cheek, inching slowly and deliberately down his skin, leaving droplets of blood, stinging with searing pain. He hissed, writhing helplessly, yet defiantly refusing to surrender entirely.

Time seemed to crawl as their eyes met, their faces etched with fear, chests heaving with the effort of their struggle, ears ringing with the taunting laughter that mocked their feeble resistance.

“Fortune has favored us today!" The man above Felix proclaimed with booming arrogance to his comrades, his smirk twisted with pride. “The elf prince has walked right into our hands! Our ancestors have truly blessed us!" The warriors erupted in gleeful shouts, swords raised high in victorious triumph.

Felix's heart sank to the depths of despair upon realizing they knew his identity and had quite possibly sought after him specifically, yet a flicker of hope ignited within him. They wanted him, which meant there was still a chance for Jisung to escape.

“Wait!” Felix's voice cracked with urgency and fear, eyes locked onto his friend, his chest heaving with the weight of his terror and exertion. “If I am what you seek, I surrender. Take me. But only me. Spare him. Let him go," he pleaded desperately, his voice trembling with the thin thread of hope.

"No, Felix!" Jisung screamed with raw desperation, his voice cut off as his hair was yanked viciously, slamming his face into the ground with brutal force. Maniacal laughter echoed around them, a cacophony of malice, as a hand shot forward, clamping onto Felix's throat with a vice-like grip filled with wicked glee. He recoiled at the malevolent touch, cringing as sharp nails pierced his skin, sending shocks of agony through his body.

Then a voice, deep and menacing, oozed with malice and dread as it wrapped around him like a suffocating shroud. "We’ll let him go when we are through with him. Though, he might be a cripple," the man taunted, his words dripping with cruelty, laughter bubbling up sinisterly amid the jeers and taunts of agreement from the onlookers. "Don’t worry, though. We'll let you watch," he sneered, nodding sharply to the henchman pinning Jisung down, smacking his lips with sadistic amusement at the terror that seized Felix upon realizing their intent.

A dagger flashed, tearing at Jisung's clothing, the fabric ripping away as one of the brutes held him down with merciless strength, their laughter a cruel counterpoint to his futile struggles and cries of despair.

"PLEASE, NO! NOT HIM! PLEASE, NO! PLEASE, DON'T DO THIS! I WILL DO ANYTHING YOU ASK OF ME BUT LEAVE HIM ALONE, I BEG YOU!" Felix wailed, his voice ragged with agony, thrashing wildly with every ounce of strength left, a desperate bid for freedom.

"Felix, no—" Jisung's voice was abruptly silenced as another warrior smashed his face back into the earth with such violence that he went limp, unconscious, his shirt torn away to reveal his rain-slicked, tanned torso.

It was a cruel irony; it no longer mattered what their intentions were. Jisung would drown, suffocating with his face buried in the mud.

That was it—the breaking point. Something inside Felix shattered, unleashing a fury he had never known.

Glowing green eyes, fierce and fiery, blazed with intense rage as he glared murderously into his captor's startled eyes, adrenaline surging through him. In a calm yet threatening voice, he spoke, "I am a merciful man. I am giving you one final opportunity. Release him, and I will allow you and your people to walk away from here. What say you?" His deep voice seemed to echo with an otherworldly presence.

But his words were met with scoffs and dismissals, further fueling Felix's fury. The man raised his fist, poised to deliver a knockout blow, but an invisible force stopped him just inches away. His arm froze mid-air, as if held by invisible bonds, and he tugged desperately, shocked and bewildered.

"Mercy is no longer an option," Felix declared coldly. Suddenly, the man's arm contorted in an unnatural angle with a sickening crack, eliciting a blood-curdling scream. Felix's eyes remained fixed on him, unblinking and inhuman, as the man's other arm twisted in the same manner, bones splintering beneath the skin. The screams echoed through the valley as Felix's power surged, unrestrained and merciless. Several soldiers' bodies twisted, bones snapping with sickening cracks that reverberated through the rain-soaked air. The men holding down Jisung jerked backward, their spines arching unnaturally as they were lifted off the ground, suspended in midair by an unseen force. Their screams died in their throats as their necks snapped with brutal precision, their bodies dropping lifelessly beside Jisung's unconscious form.

Uniform wailing was drowned out by an ear-splitting loud animalistic screech coming from elsewhere.

In an electrifying instant, Felix snapped back to reality, his heart pounding in his chest. He bolted upright, his instincts taking over. His hand darted out, snatching a dagger from the belt of a fallen adversary. Without pausing to think, he plunged it with lethal precision into the neck of his wounded attacker. The blade sliced through flesh and bone with such ferocity that it severed the spinal cord in an instant. The assailant's body crumpled to the soaked earth, blood erupting like a crimson geyser and showering Felix in a gruesome baptism. Felix blinked rapidly, struggling to regain his breath, his mind racing. Around him, the remaining several hundred, if not several thousand, attackers were standing paralyzed, their eyes wide and mouths agape, as if they had witnessed a specter rise from the grave. He quickly scanned his surroundings, every nerve on high alert.

The rain abruptly ceased, leaving behind an electrifying tension in the air, amplifying the scene's intensity as if nature itself held its breath in anticipation.

The sight that emerged just a few feet away, rising menacingly above the cliff's edge, sent a violent shudder through his spine, as though icicles were mercilessly stabbing into his flesh, while simultaneously igniting an inferno deep within his core. To most, the figure was a grotesque, unrecognizable silhouette, cloaked in a thick, dripping layer of gore that smeared every inch of him. But Felix could never mistake those eyes—dark, intense abysses seething with unrestrained rage and hatred.

Hyunjin was perched upon the back of the familiar, monstrous, crimson wyvern, its powerful wings slicing through the air with a deadly grace. The sight was enough to freeze the hearts of enemies, but Felix was overwhelmed with awe. The raw, unbridled power before him was something he had never imagined witnessing firsthand. Hyunjin seemed equally stunned upon spotting Felix below, his eyes quickly assessing the chaos around them before speaking urgently to the beast beneath him.

The dragon responded with a deafening screech, its colossal wings unfurling with a thunderous clap as it prepared for devastation. It inhaled deeply, massive lungs expanding with the promise of fiery obliteration. This jolted Felix from his awestruck reverie, the impending doom snapping him into action. Realizing the dragon's intent to engulf everything in flames, he sprang into motion, adrenaline surging through his veins. He sprinted desperately, determined to shield Jisung’s unconscious body from the impending inferno, driven by a primal urge to protect at all costs.

He wrapped his arms around his friend with a desperate grip, as if the very act of holding on could stave off the end of the world. He pressed his face into the drenched hair, shielding him fiercely. His teeth clenched like a vice, eyes squeezed shut, steeling himself against the inevitable fiery cataclysm.

When the inferno exploded, it narrowly missed them by mere feet, yet the searing heat was suffocating, pressing down like a molten weight. Felix's whimper cut through the roar, tears spilling and mingling with the soot and sweat that streaked his face. The thought of being consumed by flames clawed at his mind, terrorizing him with its vividness, but other sounds pierced through the chaotic symphony of fire. Confused and trembling, he looked up, blinking rapidly through the choking veil of smoke, blood, and sweat that clouded his vision.

Men clad in Levanter colors surged forward with fierce determination, led by the king himself. In this desperate battle, Minho masterfully rallied his forces, repelling relentless attacks from foes who fought with ferocity despite being vastly outnumbered.

Meanwhile, Hyunjin's dragon unleashed chaos, its tail sweeping soldiers aside like mere grass blades, while torrents of hellfire incinerated bodies without an ounce of mercy. The beast tore into human limbs as if they were mere playthings, flinging others aside with the careless abandon of a child discarding a rag doll. Its claws pierced torsos, ripping heads from shoulders with savage brutality, while it chewed through flesh relentlessly, painting the air with a grisly mist of blood and entrails. All this carnage unfolded as Hyunjin sat atop the beast, laughing maniacally, barking commands as if steering a warhorse into battle.

Felix sat amidst the chaos, overwhelmed, clutching tightly to the man in his arms, pleading silently for the world to pause long enough to comprehend the madness surrounding him. Yet, he couldn't tear his gaze away from Hyunjin. The man's eyes burned with insanity, as if consumed by a violent rage that had driven him to the brink of madness, transforming him into something feral, something monstrous.

The tales Felix had heard, the whispered legends of the Levanter commander, now became a captivating reality before his eyes. The truth shook him to his core, yet nothing compared to the sight of Hyunjin astride the dragon, surveying the massacre from above. To Felix's horror and confusion, an unfamiliar thrill coursed through him, a fascination that defied logic. The scene, despite its grisly nature, was enthralling, intoxicating even. So much so that the stench of burning flesh failed to repulse him, leaving him entranced by the monstrous beauty of Hyunjin guffawing amid the carnage.

Felix was caught off guard as a man barreled toward him from the side, his mind paralyzed by the sheer intensity of the moment. But before he could even react, Hyunjin descended like lightning from the dragon's back, landing directly between them. With a swift and lethal grace, he unsheathed his sword, slicing cleanly through the soldier's neck without a moment's hesitation. The severed head rolled across the ground, kicked aside with a casual ease as Hyunjin turned his gaze toward Felix, who stood frozen, mouth agape.

"You look like you've seen better days," Hyunjin observed with unnerving calmness, his eyes scanning the blood and gore that covered Felix like a macabre painting.

Felix, astonishing himself more than ever, managed a breathless retort. "You should see the other guy." A faint blush crept onto his cheeks, masked by grime, at his own audacity, but Hyunjin merely hummed in dry amusement, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. He reached down with unexpected tenderness, brushing aside strands of hair matted with viscera from Felix's temple.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" he inquired casually, grabbing Felix's chin with a fierce grip and tilting his head upward to scrutinize him with furrowed brows, ensuring there were no grievous injuries.

Felix nodded, his voice trembling. "My leg, but it doesn’t matter. Ji—It's Jisung. He was knocked out. They—they were— they said—" He broke off into a sob and clutching Jisung closer.

"Hey," Hyunjin interjected sharply, but there was an unexpected reassurance in his tone that Felix hadn't anticipated. "Once we get these bastards dealt with, Jeongin will fix him right up. He'll be okay. He has to be, for my brother’s sake," he asserted with a fierce resolve before his attention shifted to someone rushing towards them.

Minho dropped to his knees, panic etched on his face, and yanked Jisung from Felix's hold with frantic urgency, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he saw the blood pouring from Jisung’s face.

When Jisung suddenly groaned and blinked dazedly at Minho, Felix exhaled a heavy, shuddering breath of relief.

"What happened? You were supposed to stay put! What did you—" Minho started, his eyes flashing accusation at Felix, but was promptly silenced by an unexpected smack to the back of his head from Hyunjin. The act stunned Felix briefly.

"Not the time," Hyunjin reprimanded harshly, his scowl deep and unwavering.

Minho opened his mouth to argue but stopped himself, carefully returning Jisung to Felix’s arms. "This will end soon. Get him to the infirmary. Jeongin should already be there," he instructed, rising to his feet with a determined air.

Felix noticed the multiple bleeding wounds marring the king’s figure as he turned away, and his mouth moved before he could think. "You’re wounded too, Your Majesty. You should take him and get yourself treated. I can handle—"

Hyunjin shook his head with fierce determination, his eyes blazing with intensity.

A part of Felix was irresistibly drawn to obey this beautiful madman, a pull so powerful it alarmed him to his core, making him wonder if Hyunjin was wielding some dark magic.

"I’m stronger than I look, just let me—"

The dragon let out a deafening screech that cut Felix off, as Hyunjin sprinted toward it with reckless abandon. In a breathtaking leap, he mounted the beast once more as if gravity were mere fiction.

Minho hung back, his eyes darting anxiously between the chaos unfolding and Jisung’s still form. Felix seized the moment, recognizing Minho’s hesitation and using it to his advantage.

"Minho," Felix called with a commanding urgency, catching Minho off guard with the informal address. He swallowed hard but pressed on with fierce determination. "Take him. You're injured. Your men respect and follow you because you are their chosen leader. You can't lead them if you bleed out here. You won't be failing them by retreating to save yourself; you will fail them if you stubbornly remain and perish for nothing," he declared, his voice a fervent plea as he offered Jisung with care to the king. "My leg—I can not carry him. Jisung needs you. I beg you, Your Majesty. Take him and leave now!"

Minho studied Felix with a tense silence, then nodded reluctantly, gathering Jisung into his arms. His face flickered with relief as Jisung stirred, groaning softly. With a determined yet shaky resolve, the king rose and made his way toward safety with Jisung cradled in his arms, Felix's anxious eyes trailing after them.

The spark of hope from Jisung's movement, coupled with witnessing such deep care from a king regardless of his friend's heritage, filled Felix with an invigorating rush of adrenaline. He suddenly felt like he could sprint around Levanter endlessly.

Ignoring the pain from the deep gash in his thigh, he stood and scanned the battlefield for a weapon. His eyes locked onto a dagger buried to the hilt in a fallen foe. With a swift yank, he freed it, entranced by the blade's deadly gleam and the way it caught the light.

A soldier launched at him out of nowhere, slamming into him with bone-crushing force and throwing him violently off balance. Instinct and razor-sharp training kicked in as he rolled with liquid precision, pinning his opponent beneath him and ruthlessly slicing open the man's throat. Blood gushed from the gaping wound, a crimson river flowing freely as he held his stare, cold and unyielding.

In an explosive burst of motion, he leapt to his feet just as another adversary charged at him, eyes burning with murderous rage. Felix ducked swiftly, driving his dagger with savage accuracy into the attacker's groin. The man's scream was a tortured howl, crumpling to his knees in agony. Without a moment's pause, Felix plunged the blade into the back of the man's neck with brutal force, feeling the resistance give way as the knife's tip burst through the front. A powerful kick sent the lifeless body sprawling forward, hitting the ground with a sickening thud.

“Are you fucking insane, elf?!” Hyunjin bellowed from atop his dragon, a mixture of horror and awe twisting his features. But Felix ignored him, his focus unbroken as he locked onto three more foes advancing with death etched in their eyes, witnesses to the carnage he had unleashed.

The adrenaline surged through him like wildfire, electrifying every nerve. Was it the exhilaration of survival, the intoxicating sense of power, or the sheer defiance of fate itself that fueled him? Whatever it was, it made him crave more. He felt like a god, invincible and untouchable, pain a distant echo.

“Probably!" the elf shouted back with manic cheer, dismissing Hyunjin as the dragon rider shook his head in amused disbelief before continuing to speak commands to the beast below.

With reckless abandon, Felix hurled himself forward, the pain in his limb nothing but a whisper against the roar of battle. He sliced through the jugular of the nearest attacker with terrifying ease, then whirled around with a ferocious kick, sending another flying backwards, crashing to the ground in a heap.

Before the dust settled, he was upon the third soldier, his blade cutting a vicious diagonal across the man's midsection, spilling his innards in a grotesque cascade.

“Sorry,” he murmured with grim mockery to the dying man, now a pitiful heap in a pool of blood, rain, and gore.

A thunderous horn blared from the mountain's peak, signaling the enemy soldiers to flee in a frantic retreat, leaving behind their comrades, whether dead, wounded, or desperately clinging to life, without a trace of remorse.

Hyunjin let out a dark chuckle, whispering fiercely, “Oh no, you don’t.” The dragon snarled, exhaling thick, ominous clouds of smoke as it prepared itself, its massive wings unfurling with a powerful grace, ready to unleash devastation.

As the enemy soldiers scrambled to scale back up the treacherous mountainside, Hyunjin and his dragon swooped down upon them like a storm of wrath. Blood-curdling screams echoed through the air as the dragon's fiery breath obliterated everything in its path, tearing through armor and charring flesh to ash in mere seconds.

Hyunjin, no longer gripping the dragon, spread his arms wide with theatrical abandon, eyes closed in serene ecstasy, as if feeding off the chaos and terror that amplified the destruction. The dragon bellowed with savage delight, unleashing torrents of fire with reckless abandon, engulfing the ground in a hellish inferno. It seemed to sway with every slight shift from Hyunjin, as if they were locked in an intense, indomitable bond. Their bodies fused, each twist and turn a testament to a dance of sheer power and unwavering unity. The fact that he wasn’t plummeting to his doom defied all reason and logic. The commander's face lit up with unrestrained joy as the fierce wind slammed against his skin, invigorating his senses and igniting an uncontrollable surge of euphoria coursing through his veins.

Within moments, the battlefield was reduced to smoldering ruin, nearly every enemy soldier consumed by flames. Those few who managed to escape the dragon's wrath were swiftly felled by arrows from archers expertly concealed among the rocky crags. With the enemy decimated, the Levanter forces erupted in exultant celebration, victorious and unrestrained.

Felix's eyes were glued to the sky as the mighty dragon soared in triumphant loops, its majestic form cutting through the air with grace. He marveled at Hyunjin's audacity, riding the beast with such fearless precision, their movements synchronized as if they were a single, mythical creature. Below, the troops erupted in raucous cheers, their voices echoing off the cliffs, but Felix's heart swelled with relief, his mind racing with thoughts of Jisung's safety. A wide grin stretched across his face, the celebrations contagious, but it vanished shortly thereafter.

Horror gripped him as Hyunjin stood tall on the dragon's back, saluting with a defiant flourish before deliberately plummeting backward into the abyss. Felix's gasp of alarm pierced the air, his pulse pounding like a war drum as panic surged through his veins. He stifled his shout, dread pooling in his stomach, knowing Hyunjin's reckless abandon hinted at a death wish.

Just as unexpected grief began to settle over him, Felix's heart nearly stopped when the dragon plunged toward the valley floor with blinding speed. Breathless, he watched in awe as the pair shortly re-emerged, rocketing skyward, soaring higher than before. Hyunjin's victorious war cry shattered the tension, echoing through the heavens as they disappeared into the clouds, leaving Felix trembling on the precipice of hope.

The surrounding Levanter forces erupted into a thunderous roar, their voices merging into a deafening chorus of triumph that shook the very earth beneath them, echoing their commander’s war cry with a ferocity that could shatter stone.

"He'll be back," Changbin's voice broke through the chaos, startling Felix. He stood beside him, unfazed, his words carrying a calm certainty. Felix remained silent, eyes fixed on the horizon, watching closely for any sign of the dragon's return. "When? Well, that's anyone's guess. Could be minutes, hours, days, even. But you should get yourself to the infirmary for a proper check-up. Don't linger here. Hyunjin is addicted to the thrill of battle. It’s his drug. And who wants to come down when riding such a high?" Changbin added with a sardonic chuckle, casting a scrutinizing glance over Felix's weary form.

Felix paused abruptly, a wave of uncertainty crashing over him. The reason for his hesitation was unclear, but something—perhaps a burning curiosity or an inexplicable instinct—compelled him to stop. Admitting this aloud was out of the question, so he agreed with a sharp nod.

“I didn’t realize you were a fighter,” Changbin remarked, his voice laced with a mix of surprise and admiration.

“Neither did I,” Felix admitted, the truth igniting an unexpected thrill within him. If only he'd known sooner the rush that awaited him, he may have embraced combat long ago. “I’ve been trained with a blade since I was a young—an heir’s requirement, but training halted when I abdicated. I have never actually engaged in real combat prior to this,” he added, a hint of embarrassment coloring his words as he pondered whether his father would be proud or horrified by his impromptu bloodshed to protect Jisung.

Changbin chuckled softly, a sound almost swallowed by the intensity of the moment. “There’s a first time for everything,” he acknowledged, his sincerity cutting through the air. “You were not bad, given your lack of experience.” His tone shifted, a shadow of warning creeping in. “But be ready, when Hyunjin returns, he will be ravenous.”

Felix nearly choked, the phrase hitting him like a bolt of lightning. Surely, Changbin couldn’t mean that kind of ravenous? His heart raced as he scrutinized Changbin’s expression, desperately seeking clarity.

“What do you mean?” Felix rasped, his voice barely above a whisper, eyes wide and probing Changbin’s face for any hint of explanation.

Changbin's face tightened with a palpable concern. "Battle seems to ignite something wild within Hyunjin. When he returns, he's like a storm unleashed—sparring relentlessly with the soldiers until every last one is exhausted, and devouring anything edible in sight. I've watched him tear through a raw brisket once. It's as if a primal beast awakens within him. I've never witnessed anything quite like it. But I must admit, the good mood dissipates all too quickly. The brooding, sulking man you married—well, that's Hyunjin after a long stretch of peace. It's bizarre, isn't it?" he asked, his eyebrows arching with the weight of his words.

Felix felt himself withering under the revelation, acutely aware of his ignorance about his own husband—a sting of embarrassment considering their marriage, yet logical given their mutual disdain for each other's company.

Maybe it was the brush with death or the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, but Felix spoke without a filter. "For a moment there, I thought you meant ravenous in the bedroom," he blurted, a deep flush blooming across his cheeks.

Changbin snorted, half-amused. "Well, yeah, that too," he chuckled before his demeanor shifted sharply, regarding Felix with a solemn intensity that caught the young elf off guard. An uneasy silence stretched between them, heavy and charged, until Changbin finally broke it, speaking with a cautious gravity.

“Hyunjin is a complete maniac sometimes, but I can guarantee you that he would never force himself onto anyone,” Changbin vowed confidently. His words came out as serious as they did genuine. "Believe me. I've witnessed him make one of our comrades choke down his own severed cock after he dared to violate the wife of an enemy soldier. He's brutal, ruthless to the core, but even he seems to have lines he won't cross."

Felix hummed, eyes fixed on the distant skies, a storm of thoughts churning within. A part of him clung to skepticism, but the brutal honesty of that man's actions and words was undeniable. He was a prejudiced bastard, a man with no filter, but there was something oddly steadfast in the way he didn't hide behind a facade of false niceties. He was raw, unyielding, and terrifyingly authentic. Even if his true self was a relentless thorn stabbing into flesh, causing constant, pestilent irritation.

"I believe you," Felix responded with a heavy sigh, the weight of his words hanging in the air. "If war elicits ravenous, primal urges he cannot control, perhaps I could hire someone—a man or woman of the night—to be there to satiate his hunger upon his return, whenever that may be?" Felix proposed, with a piercing honesty, intending neither offense nor judgment.

Changbin's face darkened as he pondered the suggestion, only to shake his head with a grim certainty. "Something tells me he’d be deeply offended by such a proposition."

Felix remembered Hyunjin's vehement assertion that he stood to honor their vows, despite his loathing for the marriage, and his irritation when Felix had given him the option to seek solace elsewhere.

"Something tells me you’re right," Felix murmured, his tone laced with a cryptic intensity.

Chapter Text

The hours after the victory were as tumultuous and nerve-wracking as the battle itself. Felix's body screamed in agony, every muscle and nerve begging for respite, yet he stubbornly pushed onward, determined to assist Jeongin and the rest of the medical staff with the flood of wounded soldiers desperate for aid.

Once a nurse stitched up the gash in his thigh, Felix threw himself into tending minor injuries—wrapping sprains, cleaning scrapes, soothing bruises, tending to burns, and sealing cuts. These were mere trifles compared to Jeongin’s grueling tasks: amputating limbs, wrestling with entrails to return them to their rightful places, stitching internal tears, and attempting to salvage bodies that seemed beyond saving, twisted and broken in grotesque forms.

Felix marveled at how the young doctor managed to maintain his composure amidst the carnage, while the king dashed through the castle, barking orders to ensure survival, orchestrating the cleanup, and investigating the invasion. The king was a force of nature, relentless and commanding, striving for the best possible outcome against the odds.

Every hour, Minho would dart into the infirmary, his eyes scanning for Jisung, ensuring he remained stable and sedated. Jisung's injuries, though not life-threatening—broken ribs, a fractured nose, a slight orbital fracture—were severe enough. The horrific bruising and swelling on his face would make any glance in the mirror a torment until they faded. Sedation was crucial to ease his mental anguish more than his physical pain.

Felix moved through it all, his mind strangely numb to the horror, despite witnessing the worst sights of his life. Perhaps sheer exhaustion dulled the edges of reality, he mused. Maybe adrenaline carried him beyond the reach of despair. His legs barely registered beneath him, yet an unyielding force propelled him forward.

Either way, he didn’t stop assisting until the deep, inky darkness of late night enveloped the world, and Jeongin, his voice firm yet laced with concern, insisted that he retire and rest. The ultimatum was clear: either he relented or be sedated.

Resigned, he finally shuffled lifelessly out of the infirmary, his body a canvas of chaos—smeared with blood, caked with dirt, drenched in sweat, streaked with mud, and stained with gods knows what else. Each step left a trail of muddled footprints as he aimlessly wandered through the dimly lit corridors, the shadows stretching long and foreboding around him, praying silently that his fatigued legs wouldn't betray him before reaching the sanctuary of his room.

When his weary mind registered the threshold of his marital chambers, a wave of relief washed over him. He needn't worry about encountering his husband; Changbin had mentioned that it might be quite some time before Hyunjin returned. This reprieve was welcome, for Felix felt unprepared for that confrontation, not after the tumultuous events of the day. He was certain Hyunjin would chastise him for his reckless decision to charge into battle, a choice driven by impulse rather than reason.

Yet, the day had left him with an insatiable curiosity, a burning need for answers. The scenes he had witnessed were surreal, far beyond anything he had ever imagined experiencing in his lifetime. Nothing could have prepared him for the grand, terrifying spectacle that unfolded before his eyes.

He trudged to the bathroom, each step heavy with exhaustion, and stripped off his soiled clothing. Standing beneath the scalding spray of the shower, he scrubbed tirelessly, determined to cleanse his body and soul of the horrors and stains of war. The water ran hot, searing his skin, as he repeated the ritual over and over, until his skin was raw, red, and pruney, the steam mingling with his thoughts.

Emerging from the bathroom, he dressed in loose, comfortable sleep trousers and draped himself in a silk robe that brushed against the floor with each step. The thought of dinner held no appeal; his body craved rest more than sustenance. He climbed into bed, the sheets cool against his skin, and surrendered to the pull of sleep, shutting his eyes willingly and whispering a silent prayer for slumber to claim him swiftly.

The room was enveloped in a profound stillness, its vast expanse dominated by an unnecessarily large bed that felt like an icy expanse in the cold darkness. Yet, it was a bed nonetheless, a welcome contrast to the unyielding stone floors, the crude animal hides in a closet, or the sterile beds of the infirmary. The last time he lay here, it had been beside Hyunjin, both of them drenched in blood, succumbing to unconsciousness after Felix had bravely siphoned the deadly basilisk venom from the commander's veins.

The haunting echoes of battle lingered in his mind, a relentless specter. His throat felt raw, stripped bare from the guttural sobs that had escaped him when he believed he might lose his dearest friend.

A strange, unsettling sensation clawed at his insides, but it wasn’t the turmoil he expected. Beyond the lingering feel of fear of nearly losing his best friend, there was an exhilarating rush of pure joy that his friend had been snatched from the jaws of such a cruel fate. He felt an overwhelming pride in his ability to annihilate the offenders as if they were mere insects beneath his boot. He thought he would be trembling, shattered, perhaps even haunted by his first battle. Yet, he was eerily calm, devoid of any remorse for the lives he had extinguished, resolute in his certainty that he would do it all over again to save Jisung.

Felix was teetering on the edge of slumber when the door suddenly flew open, shattering the quiet with a cacophony of loud, stumbling footsteps. Hyunjin stumbled messily into the room, his movements clumsy and erratic, his heavy feet dragging with each step. He collided into random pieces of furniture with a careless abandon, eventually tripping over the rug in front of the bed and toppling onto the floor. He burst into high-pitched laughter, seemingly amused by his own clumsiness.

Felix jolted upright at the commotion, his body freezing in a state of heightened alertness, his eyes wide and probing the darkness, ready for whatever chaos might unfold next.

Then, as if on cue, the moonlight filtered through the window, casting a soft luminescence that illuminated half of his face and upper body, while leaving Hyunjin shrouded in shadows, save for the faint glow of his ominous red eyes. They were narrowed, piercing through the nighttime veil with a threatening intensity.

As Hyunjin slowly rose, Felix's mind raced back to the previous night's rage, wondering if it would resurface. A voice within urged him to remain steadfast, to stand his ground against the storm should it come again. He had overcome it once before; he could do it again. Even if it broke his body this time.

But as Hyunjin finally stood fully upright, there was no sign of fury etched across his features. Instead, his piercing red irises gleamed with a mysterious light, a glint that spoke of something other than anger.

“You better not snore,” Hyunjin murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion, before pivoting sharply toward the washroom. He began peeling his garments away haphazardly, leaving a trail behind him before he vanished into the bathroom, the lights flicking and leaving the door ajar.

Felix remained where he say for a moment, stunned into silence. Then relief washed over him, dulling the tension in his shoulders. He let himself flop onto the mattress, its fabric cool beneath his body.

For several agonizing minutes, he lay there, his mind a storm of chaotic thoughts about how this precarious sleeping arrangement would work. His pulse quickened as he debated how close to the edge he should stay, whether Hyunjin would keep a respectful distance, and the uncomfortable possibility of their limbs unintentionally brushing. His mind raced with questions—was Hyunjin planning to wear anything to bed? Should he construct a fortress of pillows between them for peace of mind or—

The water ceased abruptly, a sound so ingrained in the background that Felix hadn't consciously registered it until silence roared in his ears.

"Felix!" Hyunjin's voice sliced through his spiraling thoughts like a whip, yanking him upright with a jolt. Shock surged through him at hearing his name so unexpectedly, his body responding instinctively, caught off guard by the sharpness and unexpected levity in Hyunjin's tone.

He didn't respond, anxiety gripping him as he questioned whether it was just a trick of his mind, hearing his real name instead of some biting nickname. Was his hearing betraying him, or was this reality? But mere seconds later, Hyunjin's voice cut through the silence again, now tinged with an unmistakable desperation that sent a shiver down his spine.

"Felix!”

The voice yanked him from the bed with an urgency that defied logic. Instead of fearing for his own safety, he was consumed by the irrational worry that the commander might be injured and in need of help. He shouldn't have cared at all. The man deserved every blow life could give him. Yet, Felix couldn't suppress the instinct to aid the wounded, and Hyunjin had been the linchpin of Levanter's triumph. Deep down, Felix knew his own magic would have faltered eventually, and without the infernal blaze from Hyunjin's winged beast, both he and his friend could have faced a grim end. Blankets twisted around his legs as he propelled himself forward, skidding to a breathless stop at the washroom entrance, unwilling to invade the sanctity by crossing the threshold or even casting a glance inside.

"Yes?" he snapped, his voice a sharp edge, while he steadied himself, clutching the wall with a death grip for support.

A quiet chuckle echoed immediately, as if his husband found some twisted amusement in the chaos.

"Help me," Hyunjin demanded, his voice urgent and raw, despite its weariness. Felix's instincts screamed warnings—this was precisely the kind of perilous situation he should avoid at all costs. Yet, his logical mind countered fiercely, reminding him that Hyunjin, too, had been swallowed by the tumult of battle and, if injured, deserved aid as much as anyone else.

With a fleeting moment of hesitation, he stepped into the washroom, driven by curiosity, only to be met with the sight of Hyunjin seated on the shower floor, light chuckles spilling from his lips as if a drunken fool. The tiles were drenched, small puddles forming a mosaic beneath him as he slumped pathetically against the wall, a picture of utter disarray.

Felix tore his gaze away from the bare, unabashed form of Hyunjin, his heart pounding as he fought to keep his composure. It was nearly impossible—Hyunjin sat there, utterly nude and unapologetic, exuding a magnetism that threatened to unravel Felix's self-control. Hyunjin extended his hand, a lazy smirk dancing on his lips, challenging the young elf with an air of defiant boldness.

"Help me get to the bathtub," he commanded, his voice a siren's call daring Felix to rise to the challenge.

"Didn't you just shower?" Felix asked, confusion etched on his face, yet he edged closer, his cheeks burning red, unable to meet the gaze that pierced him like a scorching flame.

"Yeah, I showered. And now I want a nice, relaxing hot bath. Is there a problem with that?" The retort was sharp, each word laced with a biting irritation, eyes locked onto Felix with a force that was near menacing, but the heat in his gaze was muted by something else—something that looked suspiciously like vulnerability.

Felix steeled himself for the daunting task, knowing it was necessary and just, for he couldn't abandon the man sprawled on the shower floor. His heart pounded in his chest as he swallowed hard, feeling a nervous flutter clawing at his throat. He stepped forward, crouching cautiously, averting his gaze from anything inappropriate. With a tentative grip, his hands shook with anxiety as they clasped Hyunjin's larger palm. Gathering every ounce of strength, he lifted gently, his muscles taut with effort, steadying Hyunjin firmly under the arm.

He fought to ignore the electrifying sensation as Hyunjin’s hot, wet skin pressed against his form through his whisper-thin silk robe, causing a brush of water to travel through the thin fabric, sending a shiver up Felix’s spine.

He steered him toward the claw-foot tub, which was already overflowing with water that Hyunjin had let gush while he showered. Time seemed to decelerate—Felix's deliberate, cautious steps, the heavy burden of Hyunjin's exhausted body pressing against him. There was an unsettling normalcy to it all, as if Felix's instincts were hardwired to care and mend. Many elves possessed innate healing abilities, so perhaps it was simply ingrained in his nature. Felix struggled to keep Hyunjin upright, his muscles tensing as he used his foot to slam the faucet off, preventing the water from cascading over the edge. With a mix of urgency and care, he coaxed Hyunjin to climb into the tub.

In a moment of miscalculation, Hyunjin's foot slipped against the treacherously slick rim of the tub. With a sharp, panicked yelp, Hyunjin plummeted into the hot water, yanking Felix along with him. Their bodies collided beneath the surface, the impact sending water sloshing violently across the floor, soaking them both in a cascade of scalding heat.

Felix broke through the surface first, his eyes clenched tightly shut, droplets streaming down his face as he spat out the excess water that had filled his mouth. His breath came in ragged, desperate gasps, echoing in the small, tiled space. His limbs flailed wildly in a chaotic dance of survival, splashing water around him as he struggled to regain his composure. The urgency of the moment pressed upon him, a desperate need to act swiftly before Hyunjin emerged from beneath the water, ready to exact his revenge. But to his surprise, when Hyunjin's head finally burst through the surface, it was accompanied by a fit of loud coughing, quickly followed by genuine laughter that reverberated off the bathroom walls. Hyunjin's face glowed with exuberance, his eyes narrowing into crescent-shaped slits as he cackled uncontrollably at the sudden and delightful twist of humor in the moment.

Felix sat motionless atop the commander, seething and drenched, fury radiating from him. Yet the raw, unguarded laughter in front of him made it almost impossible to scowl. Beneath his deep embarrassment, something unexpected began to churn—a fracture in his hardened defenses caused by this unforeseen burst of levity.

As furious and frozen as Felix felt, soaked to the bone in his robe and pants, he was equally stunned to witness someone, once steeped in malice, now exuding a surprising childlike innocence and joy. The transformation was so stark it left him breathless, watching Hyunjin's features soften in ways he'd never imagined possible. The darkness that once clouded his eyes had dissipated, giving way to a genuine mirth that seemed to illuminate his entire visage. His eyes sparkled with a lively brightness, akin to the glint of sunlight dancing on a tranquil sea. The corners of his mouth lifted in a warm, inviting smile that added a gentle softness to his features, making him appear more approachable and full of life.

Yet, a powerful wave of repulsion still surged through Felix; the sensation of being fully clothed while drenched to the skin was utterly revolting. His clothes clung to his body like a second, suffocating skin, hot and heavy with water. The unwanted intimacy of being pressed against a completely nude man intensified his discomfort and drove him to the brink of madness. Every inch of contact was an assault on his senses, the warm skin of the other man sending shockwaves of inappropriate awareness through Felix's body. Every fiber of his being screamed for distance, for separation, for a return to proper boundaries. Simultaneously, an unexpected heat bloomed deep within Felix's core that had nothing to do with the bathwater. The sensation both alarmed and confused him.

He scrambled out of the tub clumsily, dripping water in his wake, and promptly slipped on the flooring outside the tub, landing hard on his as with an embarrassing squelch.

Hyunjin's laughter erupted to new volumes, echoing through the room as he clapped his hands with unrestrained glee. The sound drilled into Felix's skull, igniting a firestorm of humiliation that surged to his ears, turning them a scorching red. Felix raked a hand through his soaked hair, his cheeks blazing with embarrassment, and exhaled sharply, boiling over with frustration. This was his reward for trying to assist someone who probably didn’t even deserve it. Yet, against all logic, he found himself powerless to sustain his anger, mesmerized by this raw and unexpected facet of his husband's personality.

Gripping the edge of the tub with white-knuckled determination, he hauled himself upright, every muscle tensing with the effort. His movements were deliberate and cautious, a delicate dance of precision as he bowed with exaggerated humility, masking his fury at the situation. With a steely resolve, he strode out of the restroom, determined to escape the clutches of further humiliation and the strange pull he felt toward the naked man in the tub, confusion roiling uncomfortably in his gut.

He couldn't help but let a tiny smirk of amusement tug at the corners of his lips, finding humor in the absurdity of it all as he exited the room. The sound of Hyunjin's giggles lingered in the air, echoing softly even after he had stepped beyond the threshold, not bothering to shut the door behind him.

Outside, he picked up his discarded towel, using it to gather Hyunjin’s gore-stained uniform and sweat-caked tunic from the floor, the heavy scent of iron and musk lingering in the air. He grimaced as he lifted Hyunjin’s boots, their surface slick with viscera, and shielded his nose with his arm to fend off the overpowering stench. He set the offensive footwear outside the chamber door, puzzled by Hyunjin's decision to step inside the bedroom with such soiled attire. With a swift motion, he tossed the towel into the laundry bin alongside the filthy, war-tattered clothing.

Turning to his personal chest, he retrieved a fresh robe and trousers, their soft fabric a welcome contrast to his sodden clothes. He stripped hastily, eager to shed the clammy garments clinging to his skin, and slipped into crisp, clean attire. Once satisfied, he moved toward the bed, noticing streaks of blood and mud smeared across the floor, like a battlefield memorialized in grime.

After a minute’s rummaging through the room, he found a mop in the closet and set to work, the rhythmic swish of the mop head across the floor oddly comforting in its monotony. The repetitive motion allowed his mind to drift, and halfway through the task, it struck Felix how domestic this all was. Here he was, tending to laundry and scrubbing floors, after his husband had been away all day—a soldier’s homecoming marked not by fanfare, but by the quiet rituals of everyday life.

It was then he heard it—a soft whimper, a quiet moan, tantalizing and teasing. Another followed, deeper and more lingering than the first. He spun around to face the washroom door, mop still in hand, his senses heightened as he strained to discern if it was real or just a figment of his imagination. A clearer whine reached his ears, igniting his curiosity.

Feeling an irresistible pull, he set the mop aside, convincing himself that the commander might be concealing an injury needing attention. It was all for safety, he reasoned. Despite his heart pounding wildly, he hesitantly peeked into the bathroom, just enough to glimpse the steamy scene inside.

The tub's position had Hyunjin facing away, blissfully unaware of Felix’s presence, yet granting Felix an unobstructed view. As if on cue, Felix’s vision narrowed, everything fading away except the tantalizing display before him.

His husband lounged back against the porcelain, wet shoulders flexing with each deliberate stroke of his hand, hidden beneath the water's now milky surface yet unmistakable in intent. Felix found himself mesmerized, watching the rhythm, the man’s knees bent and just above the water, legs spread invitingly, arm moving with a tempting cadence.

But it wasn’t enough. Felix yearned to see his face, to witness the expressions, the raw emotions flowing freely with pleasure, to decode the thoughts unraveling in the other man's mind as he released pent-up tension.

It was as if a spell had ensnared him—he couldn’t tear his gaze away. Nor did he want to. He searched for disgust within himself, but it eluded him entirely. Instead, there was only a burning heat pooling deep in his core, his breath catching in his throat, utterly captivated by the irresistible spectacle before him.

He nearly leaped out of his skin when Hyunjin suddenly yanked his hand from the water with a fierce urgency, grunting in raw frustration. He slammed his fist against the side of the tub with a sharp thud, irritation radiating from his every move, before scrubbing his face with exasperation. A string of curses erupted from his lips as he leaned back heavily, his head slumping against the edge of the tub in a defeated manner. His eyes fixed on the ceiling with a hollow stare, his arms hung limply over the sides, his body a motionless shell.

It was rather apparent that whatever pleasure he sought eluded him, possibly thwarted by exhaustion. The vulnerability of his form in that moment of frustrated defeat stirred something unexpected within Felix—a twinge of sympathy that caught him off guard. He found himself rooted to the spot, torn between the unexpected desire to help and the instinct to flee.

Before Felix even fully realized what he was doing, he found himself stepping across the threshold into the room once more. His movements were quiet, almost stealthy, as he advanced toward Hyunjin. The heavenly scent of bath oils filled the air, and his mind buzzed with a spontaneous plan, each thought laser-focused on the singular goal of helping someone in need.

At least, that was the justification he offered himself as he moved deliberately and with purpose.

As soon as Hyunjin caught a glimpse of him from the periphery, he jolted upright, a startled look painting his face at the unexpected intrusion. His voice, sharp and defensive, cut through the air.

"Ever heard of fucking knocking?!" he snarled, his eyes narrowing like a wary predator guarding its territory.

Felix blinked slowly, taking in the combination of shock and irritation etched on Hyunjin's flushed features. He understood all too well why Hyunjin would be so caught off guard, given the compromising situation he had stumbled upon. Respectfully maintaining his distance, Felix tried to adopt an air of nonchalance, though internally he chastised himself for his reckless oversight, incredulous at his own audacity, but unable to backtrack now, the shift in the dynamic igniting an uncharted, roaring inferno deep within Felix's belly.

"The door was open. What would I knock on?" he replied, feigning innocence, though inside he was berating himself for such a blatant lapse in judgment. He couldn't help but marvel at his own nerve, yet the thrill of the encounter was hypnotizing.

Hyunjin, however, was far from amused. His expression soured with irritation, as if he had expected a more convincing excuse or at least the courtesy of some privacy. "Well then, get out and close it behind you!" Hyunjin snapped, splashing water in Felix's direction with impatience, the droplets catching the light like tiny stars.

But Felix, undeterred, stepped closer, his presence a mixture of challenge and curiosity, until he stood directly beside the tub. He gazed down at Hyunjin, whose discomfort was palpable, his body shifting slightly under the weight of Felix's scrutiny— an anomaly for the usually unabashed, audacious man.

The water was opaque with milky white bath oils, concealing what lay beneath, yet the tension in Hyunjin's shoulders and the flush creeping up his neck betrayed his vulnerability. Felix had only ever seen him so exposed, so stripped of his usual armor of arrogance and viciousness, once that morning, but this was a far different scenario.

"Why? Is there something you don't want me to see?" Felix prodded softly, his voice laced with a subtle provocation as he raised an eyebrow, daringly inviting Hyunjin to reveal the depths of his vulnerability. The tension hung between them, electric and charged, as Felix's question lingered in the air, a challenge unspoken yet undeniably present.

Hyunjin cast his gaze around the room, his eyes darting with a blend of confusion and wariness, before his brows knitted together in deep suspicion. He scrutinized Felix with an intensity that could pierce through the fog of uncertainty hanging between them.

"No..." he replied, drawing out the word slowly, as if traversing a minefield of doubt. The hesitant syllable quivered in the air, a fragile testament to his wavering confidence—a stark contrast to the commanding presence Felix had admired atop a dragon, where Hyunjin rained fire with wild abandon and untamed laughter. Yet here sat a different Hyunjin, stripped of bravado, his authority diluted under Felix's discerning gaze.

Felix felt a magnetic pull to this new vulnerability in Hyunjin, one that was raw and unguarded. He sank to his knees with deliberate care, his movements slow and reverent as he settled next to him. The steam from the bathwater curled around them, a humid veil of anticipation. Felix's fingertips glided over the water's surface, savoring the tactile warmth before daring to venture further. His hand brushed against the inside of Hyunjin's thigh, a tentative caress that sent ripples through the charged atmosphere. The soft contact was electric, igniting a palpable tension that pulsed between them, as if the very air had thickened with the weight of unspoken desires. The moment stretched, laden with potential, as they hovered on the precipice of something profound and transformative.

Hyunjin's eyes traced the movement of Felix's hand, trailing over it with a hesitance that belied his growing curiosity. When his gaze finally returned to Felix, his expression was a storm of emotions—confusion mingled with concern, yet devoid of any distrust or disbelief. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing the internal battle he fought, questioning the reality of the moment. Was this charged atmosphere a mere figment of his imagination, or was it truly unfolding? The air between them crackled with an undeniable tension, an electric pull that was both thrilling and terrifying, as if the world had condensed into just the two of them, caught in a web of unspoken desires.

Felix, maintaining an unwavering connection through their locked eyes, moved his fingers with deliberate slowness, trailing lower and lower over the increasingly warm terrain of Hyunjin's skin, painstakingly slow and purposeful as he ventured beneath the surface.

He anticipated a strong, immediate rejection, expecting Hyunjin to shove his hand away with forceful objection. Yet, to his surprise, Hyunjin seemed utterly captivated by the unfolding scenario. The magnetic pull of Felix's touch left him entranced, inhibiting any instinct to resist. As Felix's knuckles brushed against the area that seemed to demand the most attention, Hyunjin's breath hitched sharply, the unexpected sensation nearly already too much to handle. He released a trembling exhale, the sound carrying a clear note of approval, as if giving in to the electrifying tension that filled the charged air between them.

Despite Felix's entire nervous system screaming for him to halt and reconsider the tangled web he was weaving himself into, the allure of pleasing was an irresistible force pulling him deeper. It was a rare spectacle to witness someone who usually exuded an aura of untouchable authority show such raw vulnerability, and Felix couldn’t quite put his finger on what emboldened him to take such daring steps. Perhaps it was his innate desire to lend a hand when he saw someone in need, or at least that's the justification he clung to.

Even though the thought of assisting someone in any way appealed to him, offering such intimate physical touch had never once crossed his mind until that very moment. But when the opportunity unfurled itself before him like an invitation too tempting to resist, how could he possibly decline? Besides, this presented a unique chance to observe the commander from an intimately close vantage point, to dissect the complexities of his mind, to uncover what fueled his drive, and to decipher the enigmatic mechanisms of his being. Felix was anything but opposed to that.

With a wordless yet willing permission shared between them, Felix tenderly wrapped his fingers around the rigid warmth of the commander's member, marveling at the weight and presence in his hand. He initiated the first tentative strokes, each movement careful and measured, his senses heightened and alert for any sign of protest. Yet, none came— only a charged silence filled the space between them, thick with anticipation and unspoken connection.

Hyunjin maintained an unbroken gaze, his eyes locked onto Felix with a mix of suspicion and undeniable yearning, as though he suspected the elf of harboring some dark, hidden agenda. Yet, he found himself unable to resist the intoxicating allure of those delicate hands, their touch a symphony of forbidden pleasure that danced across his skin with electric intensity. The room was heavy with an unspoken promise, the air thickening with each agonizingly slow second. Hyunjin's breath hitched audibly, each sharp intake a testament to the exquisite torment Felix was inflicting, a silent surrender to the elf's masterful teasing. His eyelids fluttered uncontrollably when Felix's fingers traced the sensitive tip, a deliberate and tantalizing motion that sent waves of sensation cascading through his entire body. A low, involuntary groan escaped his lips, the sound raw and unguarded, echoing off the bathroom tiles like a confession.

Felix's heart pounded violently at the sound, an intense rhythm that echoed in his ears. "I've never done this to anyone else before," he confessed, his voice a low, unwavering murmur, his gaze locked with an intensity that dared not waver. The admission tumbled out, raw and unfiltered, yet devoid of any shame. Hyunjin already knew the truth, after all. "If I'm not doing it well, do tell me," he insisted, his voice laced with sincerity.

Felix sensed that Hyunjin was oblivious to just how pleading those fierce eyes had become, a vulnerability that tugged at his very core. But now was certainly not the moment to highlight it, not when the mere mention might shatter the fragile tension, the last thing he desired.

"You're doing fine," Hyunjin breathed out, his voice a hushed, breathless whisper, lips parting wider as Felix's grip tightened ever so slightly, the air around them crackling with an electric intensity.

He increased the pace slowly and began experimenting with various strokes, patterns, squeezes, pressure points until he found one which produced the most delightful gasp of approval thus prompting Felix to remain committed to its delivery.

Though Felix was utterly inexperienced in such intimate endeavors, he dove in with fervor, mimicking the movements he made during his own self-pleasure and scrutinizing every reaction from Hyunjin to ascertain whether his moves were hitting the mark. Every signal, spoken or silent, became a crucial piece of feedback in his quest to make every moment unforgettable.

When his other hand ventured boldly, cradling and squeezing Hyunjin’s balls with a delicate yet deliberate touch, it elicited a guttural moan that tore from Hyunjin's lips—a raw expletive that filled the air. Hyunjin's eyes clamped shut, his hips rocketing upwards, sending cascading waves through the tranquil water like a stone shattering a mirror.

Felix's lips curled into a triumphant smirk as he repeated the maneuver twice, savoring the effect before his focus returned to the pulsing length in his grasp.

Through his careful experimentation, he discovered that after delivering a few quick, deliberate strokes, pausing to apply pressure at the head evoked the most pitiful whimpers of desperation he could ever imagine. The sound was like a symphony of need, filling the air with raw emotion. So, he expertly alternated between these techniques for an extended period, deliberately ignoring the growing tension within his own pants. Eventually, Hyunjin became a writhing, panting mess, his head thrown back in sheer surrender, hips thrusting upwards uncontrollably. One hand clutched Felix's forearm with a desperate intensity, while the other gripped the edge of the bathtub so tightly that his knuckles turned a stark white, a testament to the overwhelming sensations coursing through him.

The commander made no effort to restrain himself, letting loose a cascade of potentially embarrassing sounds that, surprisingly, transformed into a symphony of the most exquisite noises conceivable. Each note and tone resonated like a harmonious melody, creating music that deeply stirred Felix’s soul.

His face contorted with pleasure, an unrestrained display of ecstasy that seemed to transform his features entirely. Gone was the hardened warrior, replaced by a man utterly consumed by sensation, vulnerable in his abandonment to pleasure.

Felix felt powerful and intoxicated by the control he wielded, watching this formidable man unravel beneath his touch. The knowledge that he alone was responsible for reducing the feared commander to such a state sent a heady rush through his veins. His deep baritone voice huskily spoke softly as he leaned forward, keeping his steady rhythm constant and perfect.

"Can you come for me, Commander?" he coaxed with a gentle yet commanding tone, his hands working with increasing urgency and precision. Felix's grip tightened and quickened, a deliberate rhythm designed to push Hyunjin ever closer to the edge. He could feel Hyunjin poised at the very brink, every fiber of his being yearning for that sweet, overwhelming release. "Please," he implored, a soft plea laced with desire and anticipation.

Hyunjin's body responded in a breathtaking arc, his back meeting the cool porcelain with an intensity that matched the crescendo building within him. The orgasm hit with the force of a thunderous storm, a violent yet exquisite climax that sent shudders rippling through his entire being. His muscles convulsed, and he bucked uncontrollably, each movement a testament to the sheer power of his release. The rim of the bathtub fractured under the extraordinary force of the commander’s grip, his supernatural strength peaking in his moment of ecstasy, briefly startling Felix, yet he allowed Hyunjin to continue experiencing the intense moment as he stroked him through the wave, taken aback by the physical manifestation of such overwhelming pleasure as he felt the commander's seed spill through his fingers beneath the water.

A loud, unrestrained moan tore from his lips, a raw and beautiful sound that resonated through the room, lingering in the air far longer than either of them had anticipated. It was a moan that spoke of deep fulfillment, of an intoxicating liberation that left Hyunjin utterly content. The warmth of such a profound reaction enveloped Felix, wrapping around him like a tender embrace that filled him with immense satisfaction and joy.

He marveled at the sheer intensity of Hyunjin's climax, a sense of pride swelling within him, knowing it was all at his own doing. When the blissful wave ebbed away, Hyunjin collapsed back against the cool surface of the tub, his chest rising and falling heavily with each breath. After a moment, he lazily cracked open his heavy-lidded eyes, meeting Felix's gaze with a look that brimmed with questions.

Felix merely shrugged, trying to appear innocent, as if his hands had acted of their own volition. Yet, deep down, a tumultuous mix of emotions churned within him. He was ensnared by his own irresistible attraction, and that was the crux of it. Wasn’t it? He tried to convince himself that this escapade bore no significance, that it was just a fleeting moment, unworthy of further scrutiny. It meant nothing, he insisted inwardly, and it would change nothing—but his heart knew better.

Hyunjin's eyes narrowed slightly, scrutinizing Felix's face with an intensity that made him feel exposed, as if every expression and subtle nuance was being dissected to reveal motives Felix himself didn’t fully understand. A wave of realization crashed over him, the weight of what had transpired settling heavily on his shoulders. This was real. It had actually happened. Felix swallowed thickly, his throat tight with anxiety, as he averted his gaze to the floor and stood, desperate to retreat and distance himself from the tangled web of emotions threatening to ensnare him.

As he turned to leave, a firm grasp clamped around his wrist, halting him mid-step. "Felix," Hyunjin's voice cut through the air like a sharp blade, commanding and unwavering. Felix turned back, his heart pounding in his chest, to meet Hyunjin's gaze. An indecipherable expression lingered on Hyunjin's face, a mixture of intensity and something Felix couldn’t quite place, which terrified him more than any words could.

Despite the fear clawing at his insides, Felix nodded curtly, signaling his willingness to listen. "This doesn’t change anything," Hyunjin stated with clarity and precision, each word enunciated with deliberate care, his eyes never breaking from Felix's.

Felix fought to maintain his composure, his mind a maelstrom of conflicting thoughts. "I didn’t expect it to," he replied, his voice steady yet laced with an honesty that left him feeling vulnerable. There was still a pang of regret, a sharp sting in his chest at the blunt dismissal. But what had he truly expected? Some profound change in Hyunjin's demeanor after one intimate encounter? A romantic declaration? The notion was laughable.

The silence that followed was thick and suffocating, with Hyunjin's grip on his wrist unyielding, a tangible reminder of the night’s impact. Felix's mind raced, contemplating the repercussions of his actions, actions that were never meant to offend or cause harm. Yet, here they were, standing on the precipice of something unknown and potentially dangerous.

After what felt like an eternity, Felix mustered the courage to attempt his escape once more. The last thing he desired was to face consequences for a moment of passion that had spiraled beyond his control, leaving him to grapple with the tangled mess of emotions he was ill-equipped to handle.

“Wait,” Hyunjin called out again, his voice carrying a playful undertone, causing Felix to exasperatedly sigh before turning to face him again.

Hyunjin, seemingly unfazed, reclined back into the bathtub. His posture was casual and relaxed, yet his grip remained firm on the captive wrist, showing no intention of letting go.

“Do you require assistance with your needs as well?” he inquired softly, his eyes flicking sideways to the noticeable bulge straining against the thin fabric of Felix's pants. The inquiry was laced with a quiet audacity that made Felix's cheeks flare a bright crimson.

Mortified, he swiftly closed his robe to obscure the evidence, his voice clipped as he responded, "No, thank you."

Hyunjin continued to watch him, a thoughtful expression playing across his features. His brows slowly lifted, revealing a mischievous glint in his eyes. “What would your fancy Feloran subjects think of you?” he mused, the words dripping with teasing irony.

A wave of acute embarrassment swept over Felix, igniting a fire of indignation within him. How dare Hyunjin mock him with such brazen derision after receiving a favor so willingly bestowed? Rage bubbled up like molten lava, coursing through his veins in response to the disrespect and insufferable arrogance from someone he had tried to treat with kindness. Without giving logic a chance to intervene and remind him that retaliating would only fan the flames, Felix yanked his wrist free with a brusque motion. He stormed toward the bedroom, his fury evident in every step, leaving without uttering another word.

Chapter Text

As soon as the heavy door slammed shut behind him, Felix leaned back against it, the cool wood pressing against his spine. He took in a shaky breath, his chest rising and falling unevenly as he shut his eyes tight, mentally berating himself for his foolish actions. The anger simmered within him, refusing to dissipate as it usually did, and he had a sinking suspicion that the cause was rooted much deeper than a mere unappreciative comment.

Today had been far too eventful, both physically and emotionally, for him to handle with coherent thoughts. His mind was a whirlwind of confusion and frustration, leaving him yearning for nothing more than a deep, uninterrupted sleep above all else, no matter how fitful it might turn out to be. Any respite from the harsh reality and the aching soreness he had somehow managed to ignore while seeking to please Hyunjin would be a welcome escape.

The sleeves of his robe were wet, and he was too careless to bother putting on a third robe of the night, so he simply shed the garment and tossed it carelessly aside. The silk pooled on the floor like spilled moonlight, forgotten in his haste to distance himself from the lingering heat of what had transpired. His skin prickled with the memory of steam and skin, of the way Hyunjin's eyes had burned into his as those calloused fingers had gripped his wrist with surprising gentleness despite the strength behind them.

Felix stumbled toward the bed, his legs wobbly and unsteady beneath him, and collapsed onto the mattress with a thud. He pulled the covers over himself and snatched a pillow with desperation, clutching it tightly to his chest. Curling around it, he willed both his body and mind to shut down, praying for sleep to overtake him before Hyunjin joined him. Yet, sleep eluded him, and he found himself tossing and turning restlessly.

It wasn't long before Hyunjin emerged from the bathroom dressed only in a pair of thin sleep pants. He rubbed his short hair vigorously with a towel, and Felix couldn't help but muse on how convenient it must be to have hair that dried so effortlessly. He was acutely aware of his own hair, still dampening his pillow, but he cared little for it in that moment.

Hyunjin busied himself with mundane tasks, writing a few notes at his desk with careful strokes, applying some kind of lotion to select areas of his body, and finally tossing his towel into the laundry bin. He paused, surprised to find his soiled clothing already there, and marveled at the cleanliness of the room. He was certain he had dragged in all sorts of debris, yet the room remained pristine. He cast a sidelong glance at Felix, lying curled in bed, the gaze going unnoticed, which was precisely what he wanted. Despite his reluctance to admit it, he silently acknowledged that cleaning up was part of the battle, and he mentally accepted the gesture with reluctant appreciation.

With closed eyes, Felix felt the mattress dip as Hyunjin climbed into bed beside him, moving with a careful slowness, as if afraid to disturb the fragile peace of Felix's pretended slumber.

Felix struggled against the natural instinct to tense his muscles the moment Hyunjin settled just inches away from him. He put on a convincing facade of sleep, hoping it would keep him composed. The commander let out a weary yawn, stretching languidly across the sheets, yet deliberately keeping to the farthest edge. Despite Felix's attempts to feign indifference, he found a strange solace in Hyunjin's considerate distance. For a moment, Felix entertained the thought that perhaps he had actually drifted off to sleep and that his own mind was conjuring this scene—until Hyunjin's voice gently pierced the shadows.

"Felix."

Felix was somehow already growing weary of hearing his name roll off the commander's tongue, each utterance grating on his nerves. He toyed with the idea of staying silent, pretending to be oblivious, but he knew that Hyunjin was likely aware he was awake, regardless. Resigned, he responded in a hushed tone.

"It's ‘elf,' remember?" he retorted, his voice laced with cold resentment that cut through the air like a sharpened blade.

Even as the words left his lips, Felix felt a twinge of discomfort at the harshness of his own tone, chiding himself inwardly for his rudeness. Yet, the sting of the offense he had endured lingered in his heart, simmering like an unquenchable fire, leaving him with no room for regret.

A prolonged, tense silence enveloped the room as they both lay awake, eyes wide open, unable to succumb to the embrace of sleep despite their emotional and physical exhaustion. The air felt thick with unspoken words and shared fatigue. Hyunjin finally broke the quiet by clearing his throat, his voice tentative yet sincere. "You’re not half-bad, you know…” he ventured, his words hanging in the darkness."A bit stiff though… There's plenty of room for improvement, and I mean, quite a lot, but you're not as incompetent as I might have initially assumed."

Felix let out a humorless huff, a sound that echoed with irony. “Ah, yes, the words everyone longs to hear after giving their first handjob," he retorted dryly, his tone laced with a hint of irony as he tried to resist the bait laid out before him. The air between them felt charged, a subtle tension lingering.

Hyunjin chuckled softly, a breathy sound that mingled with the quiet of the night before he responded.

"That's not what I meant..." he began, his voice cutting through the air with a sharp edge as he pressed on without waiting for a retort. “In combat. Out there earlier. You weren’t half bad… I mean, hey, you’re still alive and all.” His words carried a weight, a raw sincerity tinged with awe and bewilderment, before he added in a hushed, solemn tone, “It’s more than I can say for some of my friends who’ve been doing this since birth..."

Initially, Felix bristled, anger flaring within him as he readied a biting comeback about being surprised Hyunjin had friends at all, but he held back as the true depth of the words crashed over him like a tidal wave. The realization hit him with a visceral force, resonating in his core. Hyunjin’s wild, almost frantic celebration masked a brutal truth: many of those who fell today were his friends. Felix understood then that bearing witness to such barbarity and loss was the stark reality of war, a reality Hyunjin likely faced far too often. Was Hyunjin’s frenzied rampage a manifestation of his grief? Grief for those he cared for but could not protect? Was this the only way he knew to cope with the relentless specter of death? Felix, having seen the bonds Hyunjin shared with his brothers, couldn’t fathom the constant terror and dread Hyunjin endured. What if one of them didn’t return from the next battle?

Felix tried to voice his name, but his throat tightened, leaving only a broken syllable to escape. “Jin...”

Unexpectedly, Hyunjin turned to face him directly, a sudden movement that jolted Felix, sending his heart racing as though it might burst from his chest. He said nothing, his focus locked on maintaining steady breaths, even as his heart thundered wildly, threatening to drown out all other sounds.

They lay in bed, a chasm of tension between them, each acutely aware of the other's presence. Their breaths were shallow and deliberate, a synchronized rhythm that echoed like thunder in the oppressive silence of the night. Every inhale and exhale was a stark reminder of the fragile ceasefire, their bodies carefully avoiding any accidental contact.

"Tomorrow, we can go back to hating each other," Hyunjin's voice cut through the darkness, his words a sharp contrast to the quiet. "Elf," he added, his tone devoid of malice, almost playful.

Felix squeezed his eyes shut and let out a long, weary sigh. Tomorrow, the animosity could resume, the bitterness a familiar cloak. But tonight, they found solace in a truce, the usual hostility suspended like a storm held at bay.

"Whatever you say, human..." Felix replied, his voice soft yet laced with a teasing challenge.

Hyunjin chuckled, a low sound that vibrated through the tension. He pulled the covers higher around him and rolled onto his back again, eyes closing as he embraced the temporary peace.

“Had you killed before today?" Hyunjin's voice was barely more than a whisper, slicing through the suffocating darkness.

Felix shook his head, then realized the futility of the gesture. “No.” His voice was steady, yet the word hung heavily in the air.

Hyunjin made a hum of acknowledgment. “And are you okay with the knowledge that you ended another's life? That countless children will never again feel the embrace of their fathers? That spouses will mourn for husbands who will never return?" His tone wasn't accusatory, merely probing, as if testing the waters of Felix's mental state and conscience.

The question hit Felix like a physical blow, forcing him to pause and delve into the chaotic depths of his mind. It was a question that clawed at the edges of his consciousness, insistent and demanding. Yet, amidst the tumult, guilt remained elusive, a shadow that refused to take form.

It gnawed at him, an unsettling sensation that clawed at his insides, yet a strange relief surged through him upon understanding he wouldn't be eternally suffocated by the relentless tide of guilt and regret.

"They were going to hurt Jisung…what they threatened… I had to." Felix's voice was firm, the truth stark and unyielding. "Those children will be better off not being raised by men who would violate another for sport. And those wives... they're free now from monsters who wore human skin." He swallowed hard, surprised by the conviction in his own voice. "I'd do it again."

Silence stretched between them, charged with unspoken understanding. Hyunjin contemplated, his silence a testament to the gravity of the moment, before he extended his hand, raising his fist in a gesture that echoed the unspoken bonds forged in the heat of battle.

The realization hit Felix like a jolt, and he slowly raised his arm, meeting Hyunjin's fist with a tentative yet resolute bump.

When Hyunjin withdrew, his arm falling back to his side, Felix lingered in the moment, his fist still raised, eyes fixed on it with a mix of awe and reflection. The simple action resonated deeply, a primal satisfaction that defied words, hinting at a possible newfound camaraderie.

“You just might have saved our entire kingdom, elf," Hyunjin mused, his voice raw with gratitude after a long pause. The weight of his words bore down on Felix, making him squirm with undeserved praise, yet he couldn't deny feeling a flicker of pride.

“Somehow, in spite of the short span of their acquaintanceship, Minho is in deep with your advisor— I’m sure you’re aware. Had the man perished today, I’m afraid we’d be burying our king alongside him." A shadow of sorrow laced his voice, and Felix yearned to probe into Hyunjin's and Minho’s relationship, but the moment was snatched away as Hyunjin continued. "My brother has his quirks, fierce attachments being one of them, so, if your friend has any intent on hurting him by abandoning him at random, I will, without hesitation, burn him alive," Hyunjin declared with a chilling nonchalance that sent a thrill through Felix, coaxing a grin from him despite the underlying menace.

As unsettling as the threat was, Felix understood the volatile nature of emotions entangled with the protection of loved ones. "And if your brother ever dares to break his heart, I’ll rip his own out with my bare hands," Felix responded with an unwavering calm, a wicked smirk playing at his lips as he savored the vivid imagery.

To his astonishment, Hyunjin huffed amusedly then hummed with consideration. "Deal..." he agreed with genuine conviction, letting silence settle heavily in the room once more.

Their breaths synchronized, hearts eased into a steady rhythm. A profound peace enveloped them, and for a rare moment, they were united in shared understanding, completely content.

Neither was aware of the subtle smiles gracing each other's faces as they drifted into a deep slumber, entwined in the embrace of exhaustion and dreams.

Chapter Text

Jisung stirred slowly, his awareness gradually creeping back as the relentless sunlight invaded through his window, casting a glaring, unforgiving glow across his bed. The room was still and silent, yet his mind was a wild cacophony of torment and bewilderment. It felt like an eternity of agony before his brain finally registered his surroundings, understanding that he was indeed in his own bed—safe, but far from unharmed.

His body was a detailed map of suffering, each muscle and bone screaming with an intensity as if they had endured the wrath of a relentless meat grinder. His wrists were ablaze with pain, the skin raw, tender, and painfully sensitive to even the slightest movement. His face was a swollen, tender mess, each minuscule movement of his features sending sharp, searing pains shooting through the intricate web of nerves. His lips were cracked and parched, his mouth unbearably dry from the relentless necessity of breathing through it.

When he attempted to pry his eyelids open, they felt stubbornly glued shut, the mere effort sending excruciating waves of pain crashing through his skull, like a relentless storm battering a fragile ship. Abandoning the effort to open his eyes, he tried to sit up, only to be met with a vicious, fiery flare of pain erupting in his chest. A loud, guttural cry tore from his lips as the brutal ache ripped through him like a jagged knife.

"Honey!" Minho's voice cut sharply through the fog of pain, filled with panic and urgency. He sat up at Jisung's side, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm. Minho's hands were gentle yet firm as he helped Jisung to settle back down, his touch a careful balance of concern and care.

Jisung recognized Minho's voice, a beacon of relief piercing through the storm of his agony like a lighthouse guiding a lost ship. Tears welled up in his eyes and spilled over onto his cheeks, mingling with the sweat that glistened. His emotions were a tempest, a volatile mix of terror and relief battling for dominance within him.

Minho's palm, cool and soothing, brushed through Jisung’s hair soothingly, a comforting presence that contrasted sharply with the chaos inside him. Minho shushed him softly, worry deeply etched into his features, his voice a gentle balm. "You’re okay... It’s okay... Can you tell me what hurts? I’ll get Jeongin—"

"Felix..." Jisung managed to whimper, his throat as parched as a desert, the name escaping as more of a sob than a whisper. He clenched his teeth, desperately trying to ride out the violent wave of pain crashing through his chest and sides, another cry wrenching its way out of his throat.

"Honey, you have to calm down..." Minho's voice was soft, a soothing melody, as he tenderly ran his fingers through Jisung's hair, trying to ease his distress. "You're safe now. It’s all over."

Jisung shook his head desperately, a low whine escaping his lips, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps that echoed like the rhythm of a panicked heartbeat. "Felix! I need to know that Felix is okay. Please. Where is he? Tell me—!" His words were abruptly cut off by his rapid breathing, each inhale a struggle against an invisible force, each exhale a battle against the tightening grip in his chest. The pain intensified with every beat of his heart, a relentless drum of agony pounding within him.

Minho’s eyes widened, alarmed by the escalating distress he saw in Jisung. "He’s okay! I promise! Everything is fine. Jinnie made it to you before those bastards could do anything," he rushed to reassure, his voice an urgent plea, a frantic attempt to calm the storm raging within Jisung.

Memories engulfed Jisung, a relentless replay of the harrowing events that had brought him to his current plight. He could see it all vividly—the chaotic brawl, the staggering odds stacked against them, the soldiers descending upon them like a ravenous swarm of locusts. The impact of being slammed to the ground echoed in his bones, a dull thud that reverberated through him, followed by the brutal onslaught of kicks raining down on his battered body. He could never forget the cold, unyielding intent burning in the soldiers' eyes as they towered over him, exuding an aura of merciless domination.

The memory of searing pain was still fresh, a fiery trail left by the blade as it sliced through his skin, the sharp steel parting fabric and flesh with cruel precision. He could vividly recall the rasp of his shirt tearing away, a sound that mingled with his ragged breaths. His trembling hand moved instinctively to his hip, fingers tracing the jagged path the blade had carved up his side, where the skin now lay tender and marred by scars.

Amidst his panicked, uneven breaths, he managed to voice his desperation, a plea for answers that he both dreaded and needed. "Minho— Minho, did they— Oh, god, please. No. I—" The words faltered on his lips, unable to escape the grip of his terror, as panic surged through him with even greater ferocity, threatening to consume him whole.

"Had they succeeded in their treacherous plans, I would have kept each and every one of them alive solely for the pleasure of stringing them up in the throne room," Minho declared with venom dripping from his words. His voice was a low, dangerous growl, filled with a chilling promise of vengeance. "I would slice an inch from their flesh every single day, ensuring their demise came torturously slow until there wasn't a single scrap of their existence left to torment anymore." His eyes were dark, stormy pools of fury as he spoke, and his hands clenched into fists as if holding back the urge to strike.

He gritted his teeth hard, taking a deep, steadying breath to compose himself, fearing that his rage might frighten Jisung even further. The oppressive tension hung thick in the air, like an impending storm ready to unleash its wrath.

To his astonishment, Jisung's labored breathing slowly gave way to breathless laughter, a sound that echoed like a soft melody breaking the tension. Despite the delirium that clouded his mind, Minho felt a massive weight lift from his shoulders at the unexpected sound—laughter, not sobs, filling the room.

"Oh god, Minho… I'm seriously fucked up…" Jisung managed to say through a pained wince, each word punctuated by the stabbing sensation inside him. Yet he continued to chuckle, a mixture of amusement and agony, as he wiped away the tears gathering on his cheeks. "Why was that so hot? Say it again," he requested, his voice still shaky but tinged with humor and delirious amusement.

Minho's eyes widened in disbelief, his gaze fixed on Jisung with a mix of awe and surprise. He bit his lip, trying to suppress the smile threatening to spread across his face, a smile born from sheer admiration. Instead, he chose to gently run his fingers along Jisung's cheek, his touch light and cautious as if each movement might inadvertently cause Jisung immense pain. The softness of Jisung's skin felt warm under his fingertips, and Minho's heart pounded with a mix of fear and hope. To his immense relief, Jisung leaned into the touch with a tender willingness, nuzzling against Minho's palm as if seeking comfort and reassurance.

“I’m still mad at you,” Jisung mumbled, his laughter fading as his expression dimmed. The memory of the king's sneer toward Felix burned in his mind despite his injuries. “I understand your concern. I understand you were afraid for Hyunjin… but you can't speak to Felix like that," he continued, voice wavering with emotion. “If you feel the same way about Felorans as your brother, I’m afraid we cannot… continue this. Felix’s arrangement is entirely political, but us…

This is purely of our own making. No obligations. So I will not sit idly by as you spew your distrust in front of everyone whenever something goes wrong. I… I can not."

Minho's face fell, a shadow of remorse darkening his features as he withdrew his hand from Jisung's face. The absence of his touch left a cold void between them, one that seemed to expand with each passing second.

A strangled sound escaped Jisung's throat as tears welled up again, spilling over his bruised cheeks. The physical pain suddenly seemed distant compared to the ache blooming in his chest. His breath hitched as silent sobs shook his battered ribs, each tremor sending fresh waves of agony through his body. Despite this, he pushed through, determined to make his point clear. "Felix risked everything for Hyunjin despite how poorly he is regarded," Jisung continued, voice raw with emotion. “He deserves an apology.”

Jisung's eyes were swollen shut, a throbbing reminder of the pain, so he could only sense the weight of the bed shift as Minho stood up. His heart shattered anew, each shard a painful reminder that this intoxicating romance was crumbling before him. A wave of nausea churned his stomach, a bitter bile rising as he faced the harsh truth that a partnership with such a mesmerizing man was, indeed, too good to be true. Perhaps he was doomed, condemned to tread the desolate road of eternal despair—forever the man people would welcome into their beds, yet never into the sacred chambers of their hearts.

That was until he felt his hand grasped from the opposite side of him. Soft, warm fingers laced through his, squeezing gently with reassurance from where he realized Minho was now kneeling beside his side of the bed. He was taken aback by the gesture, disappointed that his temporary vision impairment prevented him from truly appreciating it in all its glory.

"How I acted was inexcusable. I swear to you, Han Jisung, it will not happen again," Minho said, his voice thick with emotion. “I have seen the worst of people, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to unlearn the prejudices I’ve harbored. I want to be a better king than my predecessors." He pressed a soft kiss to Jisung's knuckles, his lips trembling slightly. "A better man for my people, my family… a better man for you… I’m so sorry."

Jisung's heart skipped a beat, the gesture of tenderness catching him off guard. Despite his injuries, he felt a warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with pain. He squeezed Minho's hand in return, a silent acknowledgment of the promise.

"I'm going to hold you to that," Jisung whispered, trying to fight back pathetic emotions at how sincere Minho sounded—how the man fought to stay in his graces. No one ever fought for him like this. He was always the one trying to prove his worth, begging to be seen. He'd never been on the receiving end of such earnest effort. "Felix is my family.”

"I understand," Minho said softly. "And I promise, when I see him next, I'll apologize thoroughly and thank him for his actions. I owe him immensely. Hyunjin is… no easy case."

The sincerity in Minho's voice was unmistakable, a genuine commitment that eased some of the tension in Jisung's chest. He sighed, wincing slightly as the movement aggravated his injuries.

"If you’d like to see him, I have him awoken and brought—”

“Please don’t. He needs rest, too. I'm sure he's exhausted," Jisung interjected, his voice softening with concern. "Let him sleep. I just needed to know he was safe." He attempted to shift his position, immediately regretting it as pain lanced through his ribs. "It’s not like I can see shit anyway,” Jisung chuckled dryly, breathless, despite the agony pulsating through him. “How bad is it? Do I look like an orc?” He joked painfully.

Minho's wince carried an undercurrent of apology, yet his fond smile remained steadfast. The deeper he delved into the life of the injured man before him, the more he became captivated by his penchant for humor as a shield against tension and fear. Minho's fingers moved with precision as he traced his thumb beneath his bottom lip, feeling the raw tear and swelling with careful attention. He leaned in closer, eyes narrowing to scrutinize the intense bruises that were spread like shadows around both eyes and onto Jisung’s cheekbones, partially concealed by the bandage wrapped over his nose. Despite the severity of the injuries, a fierce determination underpinned his gentle smile.

Jisung, with a slight tremor in his lips, puckered his mouth, his vulnerability laid bare, and his hope fiercely palpable as he anticipated the kiss.

Once finished scanning wounds carefully, Minho pressed the most delicate kisses over both eyes in turn then atop his bandaged nose before hovering above the soft, swollen lips but hesitated a mere breadth away, not wanting to cause accidental injury if he pressed too hard.

Jisung spoke first, voice barely higher than whisper yet filled with anticipation. "I killed to defend your home. The least you could do is give me a goddamn kiss."

At hearing such words following Jisung’s bold display of bravery, Minho felt his eyes prickle dangerously but managed to compose himself, despite Jisung likely being unable to see him anyway.

“I never asked you to.” Minho’s voice barely rose above a whisper, the sound hoarse and heavy with guilt. His fingertip ghosted beneath Jisung’s lower lip, careful not to disturb the raw, cracked skin. “I’m grateful—more than I’ll ever be able to say—but I hate that you felt you had to. I hate that you threw yourself into the fray because of me. I thank you for defending my home so dauntlessly, but… I beg you—never do that again. Don’t do something so reckless.”

His voice faltered at the end, thickening with emotion, and his lips trembled despite his efforts to hold himself together. Shame and sorrow warred behind his eyes, and for a moment, he seemed to feel smaller somehow, swallowed by the weight of his conscience.

Jisung, despite the bandages and bruises, gave a breathy, amused chuckle. “If it’s not clear by now that no matter what you say, I act on my own accord, then honey, you haven’t been paying attention.”

He flashed a crooked grin, his teeth pearly white against the bloom of blood that followed—his lips parting just enough to reopen the shallow cut along his cheek. Crimson welled up and traced a delicate line down his jaw.

Minho winced like he’d been struck. “Shit—Jisung, I’m sorry—fuck, I shouldn’t have—” he reached instinctively, fumbling for anything to stop the bleeding, the frantic energy in him suddenly louder than all his previous restraint.

“Shh,” Jisung hushed, though he grimaced with the sharp sting of the wound stretching anew. “Seriously, Lee Know—if you’re gonna spiral into this ‘everything is my fault’ thing every time I get a scratch, we might as well go our separate ways now because that kind of broody martyr complex will drive me up the wall—”

“Lee Know?” Minho interrupted, his brow knitting in confusion.

Jisung gave a breathless laugh that turned into a groan, one hand clutching his ribs. “Yeah,” he managed between grimaces. “It’s what I’m calling you now. Get used to it. Don’t ask why. I don’t know why, I just like it for you.”

Minho blinked. Then slowly—pointedly— shifted up on the bed. “Fine… Honey… Hannie,” he quipped with faux sweetness, the teasing tone doing little to mask the affection curling behind it.

Jisung paused. “Wait—dammit, that actually works!” He pointed out, which quickly cracked into another round of bubbling laughter—this one brighter, warmer, cutting through the lingering heaviness like sunlight after a storm.

Minho couldn’t help it— The giggle that escaped him was completely unfiltered, and once it started, it refused to stop. The two of them dissolved into something soft, silly, and painfully tender.

But the levity didn't last.

Jisung suddenly tensed, his body bowing forward as he clutched at his chest, teeth clenched against the pain. His laughter vanished, replaced by ragged, shaky breaths.

“Hey, easy—easy, Hannie,” Minho soothed, alarm melting into care as he reached to steady him, gently running a hand through sweat-damp strands. “You shouldn’t be moving around so much. Let me call Jeongin—maybe there’s something more he can give you for the pain—”

“No,” Jisung groaned immediately, shaking his head even as it sent another jolt through him. “I’m fine. Seriously, I’m half-elf, remember? We heal fast. I’m just.. Just tired. I’ll be okay if I sleep some more. That’s all I want right now, if… if that’s okay.”

He sank back into the pillows with a sigh, every line of his face etched in exhaustion. Just as Minho leaned in to brush a kiss across his forehead, Jisung spoke softly.

“…Do you think it’s okay if I stay in bed today?” he asked, suddenly hesitant. “And maybe… tomorrow too?”

The question was so earnest it broke Minho’s heart all over again.

“You don’t even have to ask,” Minho murmured, brushing strands of hair from his forehead and kissing him again, softer this time. “You need rest. Take all the time you need. No one’s asking anything of you here.”

He paused, fingers curling affectionately around the tufts of hair at Jisung’s temple. “Back in Felora… were you still expected to attend to your duties even when you were ill or injured?”

Jisung didn’t answer immediately. He only gave a slow, contented sigh, eyes slipping shut as he leaned into every careful touch, letting the silence speak for him.

Minho didn't need words. He understood.

But after a moment of silence, Jisung answered.

“Not exactly. I mean, it wasn’t expected by custom,” Jisung said, voice low, reluctant. “It was more of a personal choice.”

The confession came like a wound reopened. Minho could hear how difficult it was for him to say it aloud, the weight of that memory pressing down on his chest.

“As a bastard, especially one with no known father with god knows what running through my veins, I had to do three times the work to be considered half as worthy of a roof, food, clothes, hell—respect most of all. I couldn’t afford to be seen as incompetent.”

Though Minho loathed to disturb their gentle closeness, he shifted his position, propping one elbow against the soft mattress so he could cradle his cheek in his palm, giving Jisung his undivided attention. The man beside him lay soft and tender in the aftermath of sleep, but Minho could see the lingering ghosts behind Jisung’s features—phantoms he seemed to mask with humor.

Suddenly, in a transparent attempt to lighten the mood with humor, Jisung’s lips formed a pout of exaggerated despair. “So I guess you won’t be folding me in half anytime soon, huh?” he mumbled with the utmost serious tone, his bruised face contorting comically with the effort.

Minho couldn’t suppress the bark of laughter that escaped his lips, thoroughly amused by Jisung’s determination to make a joke out of his own suffering. It was both endearing and concerning how quickly Jisung pivoted to humor when confronted with vulnerability.

“I think not, Hannie,” he responded with feigned gravity, letting his fingers dance playfully along Jisung’s neck and collarbones, their touch light as a whisper. “But I admire your… optimism," Minho finished, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Once you're healed, however... I will make it fully worth the wait," He let the promise hang in the air between them, watching as Jisung's lips parted slightly, a flash of desire momentarily overriding his pain.

Jisung chuckled nervously, the sound a hesitant ripple in the quiet, then cleared his throat—a prelude to a truth too raw to remain unspoken. “Okay, look. I almost died, so maybe this is just post-trauma honesty spilling over and I will likely regret admitting this, but… I feel like I should just say it,” he started, then faltered, his voice catching on the words like thorns.

Minho stilled, the air around them thickening with anticipation.

“The idea of not… doing that for a while is…” Jisung hesitated sheepishly, “...kind of disappointing. Not because I’m addicted or anything—but… but because I think I like you. Like… beyond sexually. And I don’t know how to keep someone’s interest without… performing regularly. Oh god, this sounds horrible…”

Minho let out a long breath through his nose, smiling warmly at the confession—touched, amused, and maybe just a little heartbroken by how tenderly insecure it was.

“Hannie,” he said softly, brushing his knuckles along Jisung’s jaw with utmost care, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Jisung remained quiet, his expression unreadable except for the tension in his shoulders. So Minho placed his hand carefully over the center of his chest, feeling the rapid, nervous flutter of his heartbeat.

“You couldn’t get rid of me now if you tried,” Minho whispered, drawing slow, calming circles over his breastbone. “Unless, of course, it is your wish—”

“I’m not a whore,” Jisung blurted, lip trembling and voice shaky. “I swear I’m not—I didn’t mean to make it sound like—I just—ugh, I don’t know why I thought saying any of this was a good idea. I’m just stress rambling. Ignore me—”

Minho cut him off by lying back down beside him, one arm slipping beneath Jisung’s neck as he pressed a firm kiss to his forehead, then gently laid a hand over his mouth.

“Shh,” Minho murmured. “You’ve been through hell. Your body’s recovering, your head’s foggy, and you’re on enough medication to fell a stallion. Just rest, alright?”

He pressed another kiss against Jisung’s brow, then drew back, gaze full of quiet promise. “I have duties to attend to, but if you need anything—anything—just say the word.”

Jisung looked reluctant to let him go, but nodded and shifted under the blankets, settling with a sigh. Minho stood slowly, careful not to jostle the mattress too much, but before he could leave, Jisung’s voice floated up again, strained and tender.

“Are you hurt as well?” he asked, eyes struggling to crack open, his vision still blurred with swelling and fatigue.

Minho smiled, struck by how even now—aching and stitched and half-blind—Jisung was thinking of him. “No, Hannie,” he lied with a soft tone, ignoring the tight pull of the bandages wrapped around his torso and the holes from arrows beneath them. “I’ll have someone check on you every hour—”

“Please don’t,” Jisung grumbled cutely. “I get cranky when people wake me up.”

They both chuckled at that.

Minho tilted his head fondly. “Then let me at least have breakfast brought to you?”

After a beat of consideration, Jisung relented with a grumble and a nod. Minho leaned down, pressed one last chaste kiss to the bruised corner of Jisung’s lips, and started for the door.

Behind him, Jisung grinned through the pain and stopped attempting to force his eyes open, letting them remain shut. He didn’t even notice the way Minho paused at the threshold to glance back one more time, reluctant to leave, but quietly grateful for the man who had carved out a place in his heart without even trying.

The door closed with a soft click, leaving Jisung alone in the gentle morning light. He let out a shaky breath, his body finally beginning to relax now that he knew Felix was safe and Minho wasn't going anywhere.

Chapter Text

Though the sun shone in the morning sky, Jeongin finally staggered into his chambers, every fiber of his being numbed by the brutal events that had stretched across endless hours. He was encrusted in filth, streaked with blood and dried mud, a walking canvas of the battlefield's horrors. Desperate to calm his jangled nerves, he poured a hefty dose of liquid from the decanter atop his desk and gulped it down, trying to drown the relentless memories of carnage, the grotesque aftermath, and the faces of patients he couldn't save. His stomach churned with hunger, having gone unfed since the previous dawn, yet the haunting images stormed his mind despite his best efforts to block them.

“It never gets any easier,” Seungmin's voice cut through the silence like a knife, dripping with remorse. Jeongin sighed heavily, feeling the invasion of his personal space as he lowered his glass, staring ahead with eyes that were blind yet seared with visions he couldn't escape.

The silence between them was palpable, an unspoken understanding hanging in the air, both present and acutely aware of each other's presence.

“So, you finally seek me only when you know my defenses are down, aware how much I dread solitude after such events," Jeongin remarked with biting sarcasm, swallowing another gulp of alcohol that burned its way down his throat. His chest tightened painfully, a sharp inhalation betraying his discomfort as the liquid seared his lungs, yet he poured another shot, desperate to numb the torrent of emotions raging within. “And you say elves are manipulators... Perhaps you are not so different," he muttered bitterly, shaking his head in disbelief, casting a glance at Seungmin, who stood by the doorframe, cloaked in a shroud of somber understanding and sympathy. “Unless you require more aid for your wound, I suggest you leave..." Jeongin spat out venomously, turning back to his drink, trying futilely to ignore the relentless pounding in his temples.

Seungmin's arm hung in a sling, a grim reminder of the axe that had sliced through his shoulder, shattering bones and ripping muscles. Yet, aside from a few scattered bruises and superficial cuts on his exposed skin and beneath his loungewear, he seemed miraculously intact.

"I'm not here for anything but to keep you company until you fall asleep," Seungmin confessed with a sadness that cut through the tension, disregarding Jeongin's bitter command. He strode over, planting himself firmly on the desk to face Jeongin head-on.

Jeongin, jaw set and eyes averted, downed the remaining liquid in his glass with a defiant gulp, then slammed the tumbler down so hard it exploded into jagged shards, littering the floor with glittering danger. Neither of them flinched or moved to clean up the mess.

"And how long before you vanish again?" Jeongin's voice dripped with venom, eyes squeezing shut to block out the past that clawed at his mind—a relentless flood of memories filled with blood-soaked grounds. "Better yet, why did you even bother to come back?" His voice trembled with bitterness, but he couldn't stop the words from spilling out, each one a sharp blade meant to wound.

Years of pent-up frustration erupted like a storm, justified and raw. He had swallowed his anger for too long, and now it surged forth with a vengeance.

"I’ve been back for over—"

"—A month, yes, I know," Jeongin cut him off, voice rising with every syllable. "But why? Surely, there's a whole world out there for you to conquer." He spat out the words, fists clenching and unclenching, fighting the urge to destroy something in his path. "You've probably already charmed some unsuspecting maiden off her feet, haven't you? One of those naive, pretty little village girls ready to abandon everything for a whisper of adventure and wealth. Someone who doesn't know the truth—that you're the coldest, most heartless bastard alive. Someone blind to how selfish you truly are..." He unleashed his fury with brutal honesty, his eyes squeezed shut as he drew ragged breaths through clenched teeth, feeling the air burn in his lungs.

The brutal image of his loved ones bludgeoned to death in front of his young eyes clawed its way to the forefront of his mind, blood gushing through the cracks in the floorboards, drowning him in a crimson tide, despite his silent screams for mercy. For a fleeting, yet torturous moment, he was thrust back into the full horror of that memory, the anguished cries reverberating through the room as vividly as if it were happening in the present. He felt the gnawing hunger and paralyzing terror of those three excruciating days hidden beneath the floorboards, unmoving, before the ominous beat of horse hooves signaled the approach of soldiers, their worried voices echoing as they searched every home, their hearts heavy with the grim reality of finding no survivors. Terror gripped him too tightly to utter a sound or place his trust in anyone. Then, through a narrow crack in the floorboard, his eyes locked with another young boy, seemingly close to his own age, a flicker of connection amid the chaos.

Suddenly, thrust back into the harsh reality of the present, Jeongin heard the piercing sound of glass scraping near his feet. His eyes darted downward to find Seungmin crouched before him, meticulously clearing away the shattered remnants until nothing stood between them. Seungmin's eyes locked onto Jeongin’s, desperation and torment etched into every line of his face, yet what stared back was raw, unfiltered anguish.

"When you get washed up, will you please talk to me? There’s… I owe you an explanation." Seungmin's voice was a brittle whisper, every syllable trembling with unbearable agony. “Yesterday made me realize that we might never have the chance to talk things over. I refuse to die with unresolved—"

"Is that your grand purpose?" Jeongin spat venomously, his words sharp as daggers. "What— you fear I’ll die and it will haunt you for eternity? Well, hear this, Seungmin, you should feel every ounce of that guilt. You—“ his voice shattered, a strangled sob tearing through his throat. He halted, struggling to leash the tempest of emotions raging within. “You shattered my heart into a million fucking pieces and dared to waltz back here as if nothing had happened, as if none of it held any weight. Parading up and down the streets, singing your tunes, regarding me as if we never… as if I were a mere footnote in your life—" His words dissolved into ragged, heaving sobs, his attempts at composure crumbling utterly under the pressure of his grief.

Seungmin slammed his eyes shut, then peeled them open with a fierce determination blazing like a wildfire within. In an unexpected surge of energy, Seungmin lunged forward, seizing Jeongin's clothing with an iron grip, yanking him with such force that Jeongin crashed to his knees, their bodies colliding. Seungmin's hold was relentless, pulling Jeongin closer as he fought back with a furious intensity, yet inevitably surrendered to the overpowering pull, allowing Seungmin's good arm to coil around his shoulders, sparking a battle between the touch he resented and craved.

Jeongin's fists pounded weakly against Seungmin's chest, while hot, uncontrolled tears streamed down his face, soaking into their clothes as his body convulsed with raw, unrestrained sobs. "I hate y—" he choked out through gritted teeth.

"No, you don't," Seungmin interrupted, his voice a steady anchor in the storm. "You haven't slept or eaten. You're drained, body and soul. So many were lost, but it is your burden to bear alone. It is not your fault. You do your best to save everyone, but sometimes, it's not possible," he insisted with fierce sincerity, his grip tightening to drive the point home. "Please, just let me stay with you until you fall asleep," he pleaded, pushing back to lock eyes with Jeongin, desperation etched into every line of his face.

"I need to shower," Jeongin muttered defiantly, even as his legs quivered, betraying his resolve.

Seungmin rose with deliberate grace, gripping Jeongin’s elbow and guiding him forward as his legs quivered beneath him.

Each unsteady step toward the washroom echoed Jeongin’s ragged heartbeat.

“Me too,” Seungmin said softly, almost in a whisper, the calm in his voice sending a tremor through Jeongin’s chest. Jeongin’s breath hitched, realization flashing in his foggy mind—then he pressed on, afraid of breaking stride.

He shook his head, jaw clenched, craving a warmth he’d long denied himself. “No,” he insisted, voice hollow even to his own ears. Refusal tasted like ash.

Seungmin exhaled, a low, haunted sound. “It’s nothing we haven’t done before…” His words drifted between them like smoke.

Jeongin’s vision blurred with more tears. He fixed Seungmin with a glare as sharp as shards of glass. “Things were different then,” he snarled. “If you plan to take advantage of me in this state when I’m at my weakest and incapable of controlling my emotions, and attempt to worm your way back into my heart, then get out. Now.”

Unfazed, Seungmin met that glare, expression steady, eyes simmering with something both tender and fierce. He began peeling off his outer tunic, revealing a lean torso etched with recent wounds—stitch lines still oozing, purples and blues mottling his skin. Jeongin’s breath caught as he watched, torn between revulsion and longing.

"I have no such plans, Innie," Seungmin declared with a fierce determination, wrestling with his tunic over the arm sling constricting his every movement. Frustration grew in his eyes as he fought against the fabric, each tug more desperate than the last, determined not to be defeated by the restraint.

Jeongin’s instincts—doctor, friend, or lover, he wasn’t certain—overrode his pain in that moment. He stepped forward, gently cradling Seungmin’s arm, carefully sliding the shirt sleeve down Seungmin’s restrained limb with reverent care. Their eyes locked, Jeongin’s gaze flickering with shame as Seungmin stripped off his trousers, stepping out until he stood naked, bare and exposed.

Jeongin’s mind roared with possibilities: strike the man he never stopped loving, walk away into solitude, or join him under steaming water—vulnerable, heart on the line, risking ruin all over again. His chest ached. His pulse thundered. Before he chose, Seungmin’s fingers were at his tunic, untethering the ties at the chest with practiced ease.

Jeongin froze, powerless as Seungmin slipped the fabric from his shoulders, letting it fall in a soft pile at his feet, eyes tracing every sinew of Jeongin’s battered body. The air crackled with lost years and stolen nights.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Seungmin’s voice was gentle, worry creasing his brow as he studied the still-bleeding lacerations and welts. “You didn’t suture that—”

“Myself? Yes,” Jeongin interrupted, voice raw. He turned away and slammed his hand on the shower control. Scorching water roared to life, turning the small room into a cloud of vapor and heat.

He kicked off his breeches without a second thought, baring himself fully to the man who once knew every inch of his skin.

The vast shower head arched across the ceiling of the entire shower, a cascade ready to wash away the ghosts of their past.

Jeongin stepped under the torrent first, hot water sluicing over him like molten metal, his ginger strands plastered across a furrowed brow. The heat seeped into every taut fiber of muscle, trying—and failing—to dissolve the tension that throbbed beneath his skin like a trapped pulse.

Without a word of invitation, Seungmin slipped in behind him. Steam curled between them, two feet of charged air bristling with unspoken history. They faced away, backs rigid, each refusing the other even the smallest brush of touch. For a heartbeat, they simply existed in that wet, humid silence—two soldiers seeking solace in steam.

Seungmin’s cloth was wreathed in lather, sliding carefully over scarred flesh, while Jeongin’s own washcloth clawed at grime and gore clinging to his neck. The only soundtrack was the relentless downpour of water.

“So, tell me, friend,” Jeongin finally spat, the word slicing the air. His voice was low and acid-bitten. “Should I be expecting to care for any of the mistresses you may have impregnated during your stint away? Did you warm the beds of countless maidens and men and steal hearts alike throughout the journey? Stoke your legend with cheap conquests so you’ll have fresh tales for your songs?”

Seungmin closed his eyes, exhaling as he lathered soap reverently, avoiding the fresh, covered wound on his arm. His breathing was deliberate, as if the steam itself might choke him. He said nothing.

“Or did you find them?” Jeongin’s tone sharpened, “That one perfect flame you’ve been pining for in every lyric? The so-called true love you’ve chased in every ballad?”

A bitter laugh rattled in Jeongin’s chest. He despised the venom pouring from his own lips, but he couldn’t stop. Only hatred masked the raw ache in his heart—the terror he felt when he almost lost Seungmin to that swing of an axe. Anger is easier than grief and the revelation that came with it—that after all this time, despite everything, he still loved Seungmin beyond reason. His mind had rebelled against his heart, but there was no denying the truth—not when he'd seen Seungmin's blood spilling onto the battlefield and not when he'd thought, for one terrible moment, that he would never have the chance to see Seungmin smile again. Fury was safer than the truth.

A tense exhale sounded off in the tiled room. Seungmin’s silence was a weight, and Jeongin sensed eyes burning holes in his back from that steaming shadow behind him.

At last, Seungmin’s voice—quiet, smooth—cut through the steam. “Do you really believe I left here seeking affairs and romance with random people everywhere I went?” His words trembled with hurt. “I had to leave—”

“Because of Hyunjin, I know that, but do you want to know how I found out?" Jeongin sneered with palpable disdain, aggressively scrubbing his hair with foamy lather, his fingers digging in as if to rip out the source of his irritation. He then tilted his head back, letting the water cascade over him, rinsing away the froth in a torrent of frustration.

"Perhaps you've long since erased from your memory the extravagant dinner we planned on the terrace. No, you planned it. 'Wear your finest,' you inscribed in your letter from camp. It had been only a measly fortnight, but I missed you so much that when the fleet's return day arrived, I did just that. I sat there on that terrace, waiting for you, for six torturous hours. Then Minho stumbled upon me and shattered my heart by telling me you had departed camp several days ago to settle somewhere far from here," Jeongin confessed, his voice cracking under the weight of raw betrayal. "I didn't blame you for moving away. You did what you had to for your own safety. I would have stood by your decision wholeheartedly. But you vanished without a trace, without even a note, not a whisper of 'I'll see you soon.' I wept myself to sleep, night after night, fearing for your condition—your fate—praying to anyone who would listen that you were safe, that the condition you departed in hadn’t taken a turn for the worse. I clung to the hope that you’d one day, soon enough, contact me, tell me where you’d found refuge, and we’d be together again, as if nothing had happened. But months slipped by in agonizing silence, then more months piled on, until last month, a whisper reached me—you were back. You’d been back for a week. You’d even found work in the tavern down the mountain. And that’s when the crushing truth hit me—you never planned to say goodbye. You never meant to write. You abandoned me with intent. I was nothing to you. None of our moments meant anything. The kisses, the promises, the love we made—" His voice broke under the weight of emotion, and he bowed his head beneath the waterfall, eyes clenched shut, swallowing the rising sobs as tears mingled with soap and the swirling water.

Though he desperately fought to regain his composure, when he spun around to check if Seungmin was done so he could shut the water off, he was jolted by the discovery that Seungmin stood mere inches away. Seungmin's eyes bored into his with a sorrowful remorse so profound it shattered Jeongin anew.

“I didn’t tell you because I wanted to end things,” Seungmin confessed, his voice trembling like a fragile thread on the verge of snapping. “I didn’t have the courage to just do it. I wanted to break your heart, make you hate me. So I left you behind,” he continued, voice quaking as they locked eyes with raw, exposed vulnerability.

Jeongin barked out a laugh, hollow and bitter. “You did spectacularly, I assure you. You got exactly what you wanted. Congratulations! You should be so proud!” he spat out, venom lacing each word as he whirled around to twist the faucet shut, then attempted to shoulder past Seungmin, only to be halted by a fierce grip on his forearm.

“I’m a fucking idiot—“

“You don’t say?” Jeongin retorted, eyebrows arching in sharp indignation, earning an exasperated eye roll before Seungmin pressed on.

“I’m a fucking idiot, okay? But hear me out. What I did was stupid. Ignorant. Thoughtless. Heartless. And I’m so fucking sorry I ever thought to hurt you like that, but… at the time, I thought it was the right thing to do. Not because I didn’t want to be with you, but because of the complete opposite—“

“Bullshit! You had me! We were together! If you wanted to be with me, why would—“

“Because you deserve better!” Seungmin erupted, frustration boiling over before he drew a shaky breath, rubbing his face in shame as tears cascaded unchecked. His tone dropped, becoming a fragile whisper laced with desperation.

"I loved you so fucking much it hurt, and I spent so long trying to understand how you could love someone like me. I'm not good with emotions, I get angry quickly, I don't socialize well, and my life... just look around. I believed you deserved better. You deserved someone who could sweep you away and carry you into some grassy sunset to a peaceful life, far from this fiery bloodbath. Someone who could protect you, keep your hands clean, where you could grow a garden, raise some animals, and start a family. Somewhere far from war and violence. I was only trying to set you free!”

Seungmin's words carried a profound sincerity that echoed deep within, touching the very soul. He spoke with such honesty that it left no room for doubt or disagreement. Tears rolled down his cheeks without restraint. Jeongin couldn't remember ever seeing Seungmin cry unless it was from physical pain, and the sight stirred something uneasy within him.

"Seungmin," Jeongin said firmly.

He was bewildered by the surge of confidence coursing through him, a stark contrast to his usual submissive and timid demeanor, especially when faced with anyone who made him uneasy. Seungmin lifted his gaze, his lips a taut line, nostrils flaring as shallow breaths escaped him like whispers of indignation.

“You’re right, you’re such a fucking idiot,” Jeongin spat with ruthless clarity. “Do you truly believe me to be some idealistic damsel? Did it ever cross your mind that just because I couldn’t share your bed, I would never abandon your family—my family—over something as trivial as a fleeting romance with some farmer? Yes, my heart is shattered into a million jagged shards beneath your boot, but have you forgotten this is my home too? I may not have been born here, but I’ve lived here for the greater part of my life and carved my existence into these very walls, and I will die here if I must, defending the very people you assumed I’d leave to fend for themselves just to chase some ephemeral hand to hold until we dissolve into oblivion. Who the hell do you think I am? What do you take me for?" Jeongin demanded, incredulity dripping from his words as he confronted the sheer audacity of Seungmin’s misconceptions that had obliterated the one thing he yearned for more than anything else.

Jeongin bore down on Seungmin, his gaze piercing through the fog of confusion until the truth hit like a thunderclap, triggering a fresh wave of tears that streamed down his face. “You think I wanted a storybook romance? No, you idiot, I wanted you. Every single part of you. All your quirks, your odd habits, your eccentricities, your fiery passion, your crazy family. I loved you… with every fiber of my being,” Jeongin confessed, his voice trembling under the weight of raw emotion, swelling up like a tidal wave ready to crash.

“I loved you,” Seungmin echoed the sentiment, his voice barely a whisper, yet resonating with a depth of feeling that echoed through the silence, a fragile but undeniable truth.

Jeongin shook his head with fierce defiance. "I'm sure you said that to every partner you've bedded since—"

Seungmin lunged forward, pinning Jeongin to the wall in a heartbeat, the suddenness making Jeongin flinch. "No partners, no lovers. You are the first and the only. You have no idea how many endless nights I spent, drowning in regret for what I'd done—not just because I hurt you, but because I realized I needed you more than I needed the fucking air I breathe. The mere thought of returning here to see you with someone else was a dagger to my soul. It drove me to madness. But I stayed silent upon my return because I was even more convinced of my unworthiness of your love after what I’d done. I'll probably always feel unworthy, but that close call yesterday taught me one thing: I cannot fucking bear living another second on this earth without you by my side, for better or for—"

Jeongin seized a handful of Seungmin's raven hair with urgency, pulling him close until their lips crashed together violently, drawing a shocked gasp from Seungmin that morphed into a muffled moan between their mouths before Jeongin pulled back.

"You’re so fucking stupid!" Jeongin cried out with raw intensity before Seungmin closed the gap again, kissing him with a softer yet ravenous hunger, their wet, naked bodies pressing together with feverish desperation.

Nodding fervently, Seungmin murmured breathlessly against his lips, "I know, I know. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking stupid." His hand tangled roughly into Jeongin's hair, anchoring him firmly against the wall as they devoured each other.

Jeongin jerked his head back so forcefully to break away that it thudded against the wall, and Seungmin winced at the sight, his fingers sliding gently through Jeongin's hair to soothe the impact.

Panting heavily, Jeongin locked eyes with the dark gaze before him, their chests heaving as the air between them thickened, a steamy, intoxicating haze enveloping them in a magical embrace.

"Yang Jeongin," Seungmin whispered with a reverence that sent Jeongin's stomach into a wild flip, like the butterflies of first love fluttering anew at the honeyed sound of his name.

"Kim Seungmin," Jeongin replied with a fondness and desperation that softened his once anguished, furious features into a tender expression reminiscent of the days before tragedy tore them apart.

Seungmin felt as if he had plunged headfirst into the depths of falling in love for the first time once more, captivated by the radiant beauty and fierce elegance etched onto the young doctor’s face. Even amidst the eye bags, scars, and wounds that marred his body from recent turmoil, Jeongin shone with an undeniable glow that took Seungmin’s breath away.

He vividly recalled that fateful day they first met—a stranger desperately in need of care. Jeongin had been a fragile, trembling soul, paralyzed by fear, but the man confronting him now was a tempest, fierce as any warrior on the battlefield, unyielding in his resolve. He exuded a bravery that few could even fathom. This was a man who saved lives with every heartbeat, a colossal reason why Seungmin and his brothers still drew breath on this earth.

The Yang Jeongin before him now, those dark lashes glistening with water droplets like glimmering diamonds, bore no resemblance to the terrified boy Seungmin had rescued from beneath a house, enveloped in filth and frozen with dread. That boy had transformed into someone supremely mature, audacious, intelligent, sweet, and unfathomably strong.

Time was slipping through their fingers like sand, and Seungmin knew the words must be spoken before the opportunity vanished forever, praying against fate that this wouldn’t be their last encounter.

“I love you,” Seungmin declared with raw sincerity, his voice trembling as tears welled in his eyes, a sob clawing its way from his throat.

Jeongin immediately encircled him, one arm draped securely over his shoulder, the other gently cradling his waist to avoid disturbing his injury. He pulled Seungmin close, holding him tightly as Seungmin buried his face in Jeongin’s neck, surrendering to the flood of emotions as he cried softly, finally feeling at home in the warmth of their embrace.

The doctor understood the turbulent life Seungmin had endured and that his daily battles with identity and belonging mirrored those of his brothers. Despite feeling the sting of his own harshness, he knew it was necessary. His emotions and convictions held equal weight.

When Seungmin finally admitted his faults and guilt, laying bare the reasons behind his actions, a monumental weight lifted from the doctor's chest. The raw honesty, despite the fear of consequences, was liberating.

"I love you," Jeongin declared, his voice tender yet unwavering. Despite the gravity of the moment, he closed his eyes to savor every sensation—Seungmin's scent, the sounds, the emotions—all imprinting on his memory, never to be forgotten. "I'll always love you. You could drive an arrow through my heart, and I'd die uttering those same damn words."

They clung to each other, bodies pressed tightly, enveloped in a profound silence that stretched for long minutes. Then, slowly, they pulled back just enough to lock eyes intensely, their faces mere centimeters apart, sharing each breath, pupils wide and deep with emotion.

Jeongin, intimately familiar with Seungmin, could read him effortlessly.

"You're hurt," he reminded gently, his fingers brushing down Seungmin's back with care, eyes flicking to the damp bandages and the arm sling. He considered reminding Seungmin about keeping the bandages dry, but knowing his stubborn nature, resolved to reprimand him later when reapplying them himself.

"It's never stopped us before," Seungmin retorted with a smirk that was both mischievous and provocatively sultry, before brushing his soft lips against Jeongin's with tender precision.

For the first time since Seungmin's return, Jeongin let out a genuine, unrestrained snort of laughter. The sound resonated through Seungmin, sending his heart racing with an intensity that nearly overwhelmed him.

"I cannot recall a time we've fooled around where you were this battered and bruised before," Jeongin argued, his smile a soft, fond weapon that instantly melted Seungmin into a puddle.

Seungmin shot him a sharp, accusing squint. "Think harder—it wasn't me who was injured," he countered, an eyebrow arching with a daring glint in his dark eyes.

With those words, Jeongin's mind raced, replaying every heated encounter with Seungmin. Memories blazed past: tangled beneath sheets, pressed desperately against walls, sprawled recklessly on tables, and more than once in a carriage. There had even once been a daring escapade on the terrace.

Then clarity struck him like lightning, and he flushed with sudden understanding.

Right. It was him who had borne the brunt of battle wounds when they first crossed the threshold into adulthood. Confined to the infirmary longer than most, the fiery demands of his desires refused to be extinguished, driving him to Seungmin despite stern medical prohibitions. Seungmin had been the cautious one then, wary of causing harm to the younger. Yet Jeongin had practically begged, presenting himself like a bitch in heat, right there on the sterile medical bed. Needless to say, Seungmin, unable to resist such a visceral display, succumbed to the temptation, solidifying it as his favorite memory to taunt and tease Jeongin with whenever the opportunity presented itself.

"I was young, fueled by adrenaline, merely scraped and bruised. I didn't almost lose an arm!" Jeongin’s voice was a mix of amusement and worry, eyes blazing as he faced Seungmin, who grinned with an infuriatingly handsome calm. It drove Jeongin to the brink of wanting to whack him and kiss him with equal fervor. He wanted to yell until his voice broke about how frustrating Kim Seungmin was, how he could drive anyone to madness.

"Are we done here?" Jeongin snapped, frustration spiking his words. “The water is going to run cold.”

Seungmin chuckled softly, tilting his head back, his Adam's apple standing out above his strong collarbone like a challenge.

"I can keep you warm," he offered with a wink, causing Jeongin to flush a deep crimson. Seungmin’s talents were legendary: singing, swordplay, archery, and evidently, in the art of seduction. Jeongin couldn't help but remember Seungmin's claim of fidelity, a declaration that stirred something primal within him.

Seungmin’s gaze swept over Jeongin, lingering, knowing, and Jeongin could feel the heat rising between them. "You look amazing, by the way. Have you been worki—"

"Oh, shut up!" Jeongin barked, cutting him off sharply, before seizing Seungmin in a fierce, breath-stealing kiss once again. His hands moved urgently over Seungmin's wet muscles, while Seungmin's fingers traced down Jeongin's spine, gripping his ass with a possessive force that tore a moan from Jeongin's lips. They ground into each other, panting, desperate and needy, having missed this fire too much to hold back any longer.

In a sudden, intense move, Jeongin pinched Seungmin's nipple hard enough to make him yelp and pull away with a startled, indignant glare. Jeongin met him with a gleaming, mischievous look.

"If you ever break my heart again, Kim Seungmin, I swear I will castrate you," he threatened sweetly, a sugary smile masking the razor edge of his words.

Seungmin bit down on his bottom lip, a flicker of nerves replaced by a wicked grin at the looming threat. Jeongin's eyes bore into him, puzzled and wary, until he jolted in shock as Seungmin suddenly dropped to his knees, an intense determination in his gaze.

"Never again," was the whispered promise that slipped from Seungmin's lips before he got to work, his single useful hand moving with deft precision. But it was his mouth, that exquisite, skilled mouth, that truly turned the tide, weaving a spell that only Jeongin could understand.

Seungmin possessed talents of a rare kind—hidden, potent, and known to none but Jeongin. Yet, Jeongin held his own gifts, knowing instinctively how to mend the emotional and physical wounds Seungmin suffered daily, whether visible or buried deep within.

The two eventually made their way to Jeongin's bed. Despite the fresh injuries, the gnawing exhaustion, and the relentless soreness that demanded frequent pauses and adjustments, the fierce desire consuming them was unstoppable. Their passion roared like an unquenchable fire, undeterred by pain or discomfort.

Patience and relentless communication became their allies, setting the stage for future triumphs. Together, they navigated each other’s bodies as if they’d never parted, emerging victorious and blissfully sated. With smiles of deep contentment, wrapped in a mess of tangled limbs, they slipped into sleep, the echoes of their shared intensity still lingering like a warm embrace.

Chapter Text

Felix surged back to consciousness with a jolt, as if he had been dormant for centuries, awaking from a deep, unexpected slumber that had enveloped him for hours. His body screamed in agony, every muscle aflame with the anguish of relentless exertion and unyielding tension. He felt utterly depleted, a hollow shell drained of magic after exhausting every last bit of his reserves. Yet, beneath the sharp pangs and discomforts, his entire being thrummed with an overpowering sense of relaxation and fulfillment, an intoxicating blend of relief and satisfaction.

He kept his eyes closed, clinging to a fleeting sense of peace, unsure if his mind had conjured this illusion to mask the searing agony in his body. Yet he savored it fiercely, refusing to let any intrusive thoughts seep through the fragile defenses of his mind, for Felix could not afford even a hint of weakness. The stark reality had been hammered home: there was no room for frailty in this brutal world. In the span of less than a week, he had been thrust into a whirlwind of chaos—marrying a brute, sleeping in a cramped closet, getting envenomated, confronting a dragon, spewing venom onto his vicious spouse, nearly being slaughtered by his husband's monstrous rage, wielding forbidden magic to quell the man's madness, and then being plunged into battle during a sudden invasion where he almost lost his dearest friend. And those were only the glaring horrors etched into his memory, milestones he desperately wished to erase from his mind.

His chest rose and fell with deep, deliberate breaths as he hesitated, dreading the moment he would open his eyes. The fear of finding himself not alone and certainly not safe gnawed at him. Though Hyunjin had been relatively docile when they retired for the night, Felix couldn't shake the expectation of waking to the barbarian's menacing figure looming over him, or worse, discovering himself bound in chains at the feet.

The high from the battle might have already dissipated, leaving Hyunjin poised to unleash his wrath and possibly end Felix for daring to abandon the castle and join the fray—or even for his brazen actions during the commander's bath.

Suddenly, a wave of revulsion crashed over him, saturating his very core with loathing. He raged internally, unable to fathom any rational explanation for his actions. The thought of someone daring to do something similar to him during his own private time, during such a moment of bare vulnerability, would have sent him into a fury that could level mountains. Yet, he had done exactly that to Hyunjin without a second thought. What kind of person was he becoming? The Felix from Felora would have been appalled by such behavior, would have retreated in horror at the very suggestion of such intimate contact with a damn near-stranger—especially one so inhospitable.

Perhaps the battlefield had awakened something primal within him, he reasoned. The thrill of taking lives, of wielding power so raw and immediate, had intoxicated him in ways he couldn't have anticipated. The rush of dominance, the heady sensation of control—it had followed him from the bloodstained earth to the steamy confines of that bathroom, driving him to reach out and seize the commander in a way both daring and deranged.

Hyunjin hadn't been angry, not in the slightest. Instead, he sat there, utterly bewildered, his cheeks flushed with a heat that betrayed his confusion. Felix thought he glimpsed a fierce hatred smoldering behind Hyunjin's eyes, an ever-present fire that seemed to reside in those brown pools permanently, but there was something else too—an echo of shame and surrender as their gazes locked as Felix stroked him mercilessly, causing the commander to writhe and moan uncontrollably until he climaxed so powerfully, the man had thrown his head back and cried out in ecstasy.

Felix couldn't suppress a boastful smirk as he reveled in the memory, his pride swelling like a storm. The barbarian, a fierce warrior who had ridden a dragon into battle and slaughtered hundreds, perhaps thousands, not long before, was reduced to a whimpering, writhing mess beneath Felix's touch. Each flicker of memory fed Felix's ego, which soared higher than ever. A hidden curiosity had always simmered within him, questioning his power to satisfy someone sexually when the moment arrived. And now, as the memory replayed in his mind, he knew he had exceeded even his own expectations.

His body tensed involuntarily, and he mentally berated himself for fixating on such trivial, meaningless concerns. Just yesterday, he and Jisung had teetered on the brink of death, locked in a brutal struggle for survival. He should have been haunted by the sheer horror of it all, yet instead, his mind fixated relentlessly on Hyunjin’s maniacal laughter and the bloodthirsty glee with which he unleashed fiery devastation upon their foes, reducing them to ash with relentless fury.

The image was deeply unsettling, a haunting specter that crackled at the forefront of his consciousness like charged static. The sheer magnitude of Hyunjin's destructive power was terrifying, and it was no surprise that such arrogance was etched deeply into his very being, layered beneath a thick skull alongside the myriad of other flaws.

Guilt clawed at Felix's heart like a relentless beast as he forced himself to remember that those charred corpses had once been living, breathing people with families who would never see them again. Yet, the haunting echo of Jisung’s tortured screams, as he was nearly violated and murdered for sheer entertainment before Felix's very eyes, eclipsed any guilt that tried to surface. Such vile creatures had no right to exist, and Felix knew that if they had succeeded in ending his best friend's life, he would have hunted every last one of them down, personally dispatching them to their graves without a second thought, no dragons needed. Despite the brutality, Hyunjin had done him an immense favor.

He justified the impromptu handjob as nothing more than a gesture of thanks, devoid of any deeper meaning.

A low, almost pitiful grumble broke through Felix's intense reverie, snapping him back to the present. His eyes flew open, bracing for the sight of a looming threat, but instead, he found Hyunjin sprawled on his stomach. His face was angled towards Felix, maintaining a respectful distance, one arm nestled beneath the pillow, the other reaching out towards Felix. Only now did Felix notice that Hyunjin had a grip on his waistband, clutching it with desperate tenacity as if afraid it might vanish into thin air. Hyunjin had somehow wriggled free from the sheets entirely, his skin faintly glistening with sweat, appearing deceptively harmless and innocent, with a slight furrow between his dark brows.

A soft, throaty grumble emerged again, his brows twitching subtly, and Felix watched, fascinated. Was the commander growling? Just as he had in the infirmary the morning before. How peculiar.

Felix's resolve was unshakeable, though; he was not diving back into that sleeping mind again. The last encounter had terrified him to his core, leaving him feeling exposed and guilty for the unintended intrusion into someone else's personal thoughts and memories. He hadn't realized he possessed such a power to do that without meaning to until that unsettling moment. Determined to understand how it had happened, he reminded himself to write to his father soon to seek guidance and answers.

As if the universe hadn't thrown enough at him, nature called. Felix carefully tried to extricate Hyunjin's hand from his pants. It was like trying to pry open a steel vice—Hyunjin's grip was unyielding even in sleep, tightening with every movement. Frustrated and weary, Felix gave in. He tapped Hyunjin's shoulder gently, hoping for a gradual awakening. When that failed to rouse him, Felix didn't hesitate. He propped himself up on one elbow and delivered a forceful smack to Hyunjin's broad shoulder blade, determined to shake him from his stubborn slumber.

Hyunjin jolted awake, moving with the speed and precision of a striking serpent. His hand instinctively reached for the dagger on the bedside table, and in one fluid motion, he seized Felix’s wrist with a grip like iron, pinning the elf beneath him with unyielding force. Despite the fresh wounds from battle, which etched pain into his handsome features with a grimace he couldn’t quite hide, Hyunjin pressed the blade menacingly against Felix's throat.

Felix cried out as Hyunjin's knee bore down mercilessly on his lacerated thigh, the searing agony snapping Hyunjin into awareness. His eyes narrowed, and a fierce scowl darkened his face, demanding an explanation for this rude awakening. Both of them were beyond exhaustion, their bodies battered and worn. Felix knew his own fatigue and pain mirrored that of his husband, who had fought tirelessly for hours longer.

With a herculean effort to mask the pulsating pain from being pinned so brutally, Felix met Hyunjin’s gaze, his voice unwavering and deliberate despite the threat at his throat. "Good morning to you too," he gritted out, suppressing the tremor of fear that threatened to creep into his words.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes with exaggerated disdain, the dagger disappearing from Felix's throat as swiftly as it had appeared. He flung himself back onto the mattress with a heavy thud, exhaling sharply in exasperation as he pressed his palms against his closed eyelids, his jaw a rigid line of frustration.

"Are you fucking stupid, elf?" he spat, his voice dripping with irritation at the audacity of being disturbed after such a grueling event.

“Oh, we’re back to ‘elf’?" Felix retorted, unable to restrain his bitterness as he grimaced in pain, moving gingerly until he finally settled upright against the headboard, his grip tight around his throbbing thigh. Hyunjin mirrored his actions almost instinctively, as if they were connected by an invisible thread, arranging the pillows behind him with jerky movements. He sat against the headboard like Felix, deliberately avoiding eye contact, his fingers nervously playing with the knife. His ears were attuned to every sound around them, feigning disinterest in Felix's words while his mind absorbed every syllable like a sponge.

Felix observed him in silence, his irritation simmering beneath the surface at being called 'elf' once more. The disdain in that word cut deeper than any blade, especially after what had taken place the day before. His voice rose with a fierce edge, “And here I thought after I shed blood for your people, your kingdom, that you’d have the decency to—“

Hyunjin pointed the knife directly at him, accusingly, growling lowly, a vein visible above the line of his brow indicating irritation.

“Let’s get one thing straight. I didn’t ask you to do shit. We were fine without you. We would have won regardless of your presence. Don’t get cocky on me just because just offed a few weaklings. It doesn’t change a thing. You are still and will always be an—“

Hyunjin thrust the knife toward him with a fierce accusation, a low growl rumbling from his throat, the vein on his brow bulging with pure fury. "Let's get one thing straight. I didn't ask for your help. We were thriving without you. We would have crushed them regardless of your meddling. Don't you dare get cocky just because you took down a few weaklings. It changes nothing. You are still an—"

"Elf! I know! And I'm proud of it. What are you again? Oh, that's right, you have no clue. No one does!" Felix spat, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white, his entire being consumed with rage, ready to unleash hell in an argument if necessary, neither willing to back down. "You were merely some stray child with temperament issues who got lucky enough to be found by a family way too patient, who should have tossed you out a window instead!"

“You know not what you speak of!” Hyunjin bellowed, leaning forward like a predator ready to strike, his eyes igniting with a manic fire that danced within the depths of his shadowy gaze. The intensity of his glare pierced through the air, a volatile mixture of fury and madness swirling behind those dark orbs, radiating a primal threat, but Felix remained resolute, an unyielding force, and unshaken.

“I know everything! In which—when exactly were you all planning to inform me that I was wed to a bastard with unknown blood coursing through his veins?!” The elf's voice dripped with venom, his composure on a knife's edge as his heart thundered in his chest.

Hyunjin leaned in with lethal slowness, the knife's glint a menacing promise aimed directly at the delicate skin of the elf’s throat.

“You try my patience,” he whispered menacingly, his words a dark promise as their eyes locked in a dangerous duel.

Felix, though terror clutched at his insides, glared back with furious intensity, his voice laced with malice, knowing he had struck a nerve deep within Hyunjin. He refused to retreat, despite the looming threat and the dire consequences of provoking such a perilous adversary.

In a moment of reckless defiance, Felix edged even closer, feeling the blade press with icy certainty against his throat. His voice was a frigid challenge, daring Hyunjin to break before he did, as he spoke with chilling resolve.

"Do it. I dare you. Go ahead and watch as your own brother finally turns his back on you after you’ve murdered the dearest friend of his new paramour. You’ll lose everything—your position, your title… your family. What then? Will you return to being a scrappy, feral stray, only proficient in killing? You might be a monster, Hwang Hyunjin, but hatred and violence cannot sustain you forever," Felix declared with a fierce determination, refusing to back down from Hyunjin's unyielding gaze.

Even before Felix finished speaking, the grip on his throat slackened significantly as Hyunjin’s hand began to tremble violently, his nostrils flaring wide as his eyes glossed over, shimmering with unshed tears, yet his lips remained sealed in stubborn silence.

Felix braced himself, expecting a ferocious backlash, a wild explosion of violence, but nothing came. Only a heavy, suffocating silence enveloped them.

After what felt like an eternity of charged stillness, the commander erupted, hurling his dagger across the room with furious force, embedding it into a painting on the opposite wall with a resounding thud before meeting Felix's unwavering gaze again with a burning intensity.

"Fuck all of you elves and your damn tongues..."

Felix’s frown deepened, his features twisting with sharp confusion and disdain. "My tongue is only as sharp as it needs to be to rival yours."

Hyunjin's nostrils flared with fierce intensity, his teeth bared in a primal snarl, a hiss escaping his lips like a cornered beast. Yet, Felix caught the glimmer of a tear slicing down Hyunjin's cheek, a fleeting vulnerability swiftly erased with an impatient swipe before Hyunjin turned away, struggling to regain control. Felix felt as if some wild, unhinged spirit had surged through him, compelling him to utter such provocative words. It was hopefully unrelated to the magnetic allure of Hyunjin's brooding silhouette, starkly defined against the window's light. With a knowing, defiant arch of his eyebrows, Felix opened his mouth, his voice cutting through the tension, deliberately crafted to provoke Hyunjin once more.

"Perhaps if you could shove your xenophobia and prejudices aside even for a moment and behave like a proper man, you could come to appreciate the full extent of my tongue's capabilities...." he proclaimed with an air of superiority, struggling to rise slowly and shakily, forcing strength through his limbs as he leaned heavily on the bedside table until he stood firm on both feet.

He caught the sound of Hyunjin's indignant scoff from the massive bed but dismissed it, sensing it lacked true venom. Instead, he savored the triumph of rendering this insolent man utterly speechless. It thrilled him far more than he'd care to admit.

"You say that as if you're not some prudish virgin," Hyunjin muttered under his breath, barely audible, but Felix caught the words. The moment they registered, a fierce desire surged within him to leap into bed and tear the smug bastard to pieces.

Despite the pain shooting through his injured leg, he forced himself to straighten up, masking every ounce of discomfort behind a facade of steely resolve. He tilted his chin defiantly, even as he turned his back on the towering brute.

With a voice as smooth as butter, he retorted, "There's a first time for everything, and judging by the way you were writhing and crying out beneath my touch, my debut was quite a success. Have a fine day, Commander."

He staggered towards the bathroom door, just as Hyunjin lunged out of bed, his hands crashing against the doorframe with a force that shook the walls, effectively blocking Felix's path.

"I was riding an adrenaline high and had a bit to drink. I won't even remember it by tomorrow, so don't flatter yourself," Hyunjin snarled, his voice dripping with a laughable bravado that only fueled Felix's urge to strike him down, though instead, he smirked, amusement flickering in his eyes.

Felix met Hyunjin's blazing gaze, then let his eyes sweep over the rugged landscape of his bare torso, a battlefield of scars and bruises, each telling a tale of violence and survival. A strange curiosity ignited within Felix, compelling him to study every scar and bruise on that olive-toned canvas, a fierce longing to trace each line with a gentle fingertip. An unexpected wave of protectiveness surged through him, as if an invisible bond tied him to this obstinate, crude warrior; after all, he was bound to him in marriage, even if unwillingly.

"You shouldn’t drink after a battle. It can increase bleeding and swelling," Felix declared with a seriousness that cut through the tension, his hand finding its place on Hyunjin's warm, muscled shoulder. His eyes lingered on a long scar running along Hyunjin's clavicle, likely the result of a sword's cruel kiss. Felix's fingertips grazed the ridge with a tenderness that belied the intensity of his scrutiny, before trailing upwards to his neck, feeling the heat radiating from every inch of the warrior's skin under his touch.

Hyunjin shrugged with feigned indifference, his heart pounding as he tried to ignore the electric path Felix's fingers burned into his skin. He swallowed hard, every nerve screaming with the tension of their shared closeness, yet he neither retreated nor lashed out. The proximity was of his own making, after all.

“Why is your body temperature always so incredibly hot?" Felix inquired, his voice a mix of curiosity and urgency as he stared directly into Hyunjin's eyes. His fingers, as if possessed, traced a jagged scar along the commander's jawline, the touch both gentle and probing.

Hyunjin's eyes narrowed, skepticism morphing into a sharp scoff, as if shocked that he had ever permitted the elf such intimate contact. With deliberate slowness, he withdrew, the air between them crackling with unresolved tension, and used his body to nudge the elf out of the way as he retreated back to the bed.

Felix leaned heavily against the wall, confusion and a stinging disappointment etched into his frown, unable to comprehend why the departure of Hyunjin's presence left him feeling so abruptly dispirited.

"You're playing with fire," the commander warned in a grave tone, turning away from Felix as he settled back under the sheets, lying flat on his stomach with the pillow partially covering his head. "There’s always a celebration in the dining hall on Saturdays following victories. If you manage to survive the rest of the week, be there, but don’t dress like you’re attending some Feloran tree-hugging ceremony," he instructed, his voice muffled by the pillow.

Felix frowned in dissatisfaction, shaking his head slightly in disbelief at how Hyunjin would resort to insults or mockery when there was a chance for genuine conversation between them. The elf sighed, resigned, and limped awkwardly into the bathroom, trying to keep weight off his fresh wound.

Chapter Text

Seungmin awoke several hours later, the sun already sinking low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the room. Despite the throbbing pain that radiated through his body, a deep sense of bliss enveloped him as he lay tightly spooned by Jeongin. The gentle rhythm of Jeongin’s breath tickled the back of his neck, soothing and comforting him in a way he had long forgotten he needed.

He was acutely aware that they would have to emerge from this cocoon of warmth eventually, but for now, the craving for closeness, affection, and raw intimacy held him captive. Seungmin shifted ever so slightly, feeling Jeongin instinctively tighten his grip in his sleep, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips as he settled back into the embrace.

With careful precision, Seungmin nudged Jeongin, his shoulder screaming in protest, until the younger man roused slowly, a brilliant grin spreading across his face as reality settled in. No fever dream this—here they were, entwined in shared warmth and vulnerability.

"You okay?" Jeongin murmured softly, pressing a tender kiss against Seungmin's bare shoulder, the touch igniting a spark of happiness within him. Seungmin hummed in response, savoring the sensation of those lips on his skin.

With a playful wiggle, Seungmin pressed his bare rear against Jeongin's groin, separated only by a thin veil of cotton underwear the doctor wore, and mumbled lazily, "Again."

Jeongin snorted, a sleepy chuckle escaping him as he pulled Seungmin impossibly closer, his laughter muffled against the crook of Seungmin’s neck. He kissed the sensitive junction between neck and collarbone, his giggles breaking free once more.

Seungmin pouted, his voice a mix of teasing and urgency. "What's so funny?!" he asked, tilting his neck to give Jeongin better access. "I’m serious. It’s only a matter of time before someone comes knocking and we have to join the celebrations. I don’t care if you cum fast again..." His words dripped with mischief, a smirk playing on his lips as Jeongin shot him an affronted look, delivering a swift smack to his ass that made Seungmin wince and chuckle.

"That’s your fault for being an idiot and making me go so long without," Jeongin retorted, faux disdain etched across his delicate features. "Must I remind you—"

“Please don’t," Seungmin groaned, shaking his head in amused exasperation, silently pleading with the universe to spare him the agonizing reminder.

Their first experience as young lads, both caught in the throes of their burgeoning sexual awakenings, exploded into a frenzy that ended almost as swiftly as it began. Seungmin, overwhelmed by the electric charge of the moment, climaxed intensely in his trousers while frantically grinding against Jeongin’s thigh like a dog. The air crackled with the raw energy of their passionate kisses, yet it all dissipated before they could even shed a single item of clothing. The unexpected climax sent them into fits of laughter, the abruptness of it all smothering the heat of the moment and leaving behind only a warm fondness. Jeongin, far from mocking, treasured the memory deeply; it was an affirmation, a visceral realization of being fervently desired by the very boy of his dreams.

They slipped back into playful teasing and gentle affection for a brief moment before a lingering kiss transformed into exactly what Seungmin had desired—his skin flushed and breathless as Jeongin secured him at the waist, his other hand resting behind Seungmin’s bent knee, moving his hips gracefully against the beautiful bard who yearned for more intensity. However, Jeongin, being both a compassionate lover and a doctor, wouldn’t permit it, insisting that his partner simply lie on his side and savor the experience, tenderly murmuring compliments from time to time as his stroke became deeper, causing Seungmin to grip the sheets beneath them tightly with his one functional hand.

The sudden clearing of a throat from near the foot of the bed shattered the charged atmosphere, jolting the two from their fevered entanglement. Instantly, panic surged through them, and they scrambled apart, hearts racing, desperately clutching the sheets to shield their exposed bodies while gasping for breath, their faces painted with shock and horror.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Seungmin bellowed, mortified, his face a mask of fury as he seized a pillow and flung it with all his might at Minho, who effortlessly sidestepped the projectile.

"This isn’t what it looks like—" Jeongin stammered, his voice trembling, his cheeks burning a deep crimson as he avoided the piercing gaze of his king.

Minho tilted his head, a mock-serious look crossing his face as he pretended to ponder deeply, his brows knitted together. “Mmm… so you weren’t just balls deep in my brother?”

“Can you not?! Learn how to fucking knock, asshole!” Seungmin shouted, launching another pillow that Minho swatted away with a swift motion, just in time to catch a glimpse of Jeongin yanking his underwear over trembling legs, his hands betraying his panic.

“A bit hypocritical, wouldn’t you say? I’m fairly certain our roles were reversed just yesterday morning,” Minho teased, a smirk dancing on his lips as he reveled in Seungmin's furious glare.

“My sincerest apologies, Your Majesty! If my actions have offended—“ Jeongin rushed, his voice laced with embarrassment, but Minho cut him off, his tone calm and filled with genuine curiosity, devoid of any judgment or malice.

"How long?” he asked with casual nonchalance.

The young medic’s face burned with humiliation, a whirlwind of nerves as he fidgeted, while Seungmin, more incensed than anything, stepped in with an iron will.

“None of your damn business," Seungmin snapped, his hand placing a steadying palm on Jeongin's taut thigh as a silent gesture of support. “Get out.”

Minho's gaze was unrelenting, dissecting the pair with an intensity that made Jeongin visibly shrink, his face flushed with discomfort. Seungmin, however, met Minho's piercing eyes with defiance, his own narrowing into dangerous slits as a silent warning. In a flash of frustration, Seungmin snatched another pillow, ready to hurl it, but Jeongin, overcome with humiliation, shielded his face and cried out, “Since the beginning!” His voice was raw with emotion. “It started as a childhood crush, but it transformed into something more around the time of your coronation!”

Seungmin froze, his face a mask of stone as he turned towards Jeongin, feeling the weight of the younger's distress as if it were his own.

Minho, absorbing the revelation, pondered it for a moment before speaking with a sardonic twist to his lips, "Oh. That's unfortunate…” he mused, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Because it means I owe Hyunjin…” he added, his voice trailing off into contemplation.

Seungmin whipped his head to Minho, his jaw hanging open in shock as the meaning of Minho's words hit him like a thunderclap. “What did you just say?” he snapped, disbelief and anger igniting his voice.

Minho raised an eyebrow, faintly puzzled by Seungmin’s outburst, but he explained with a casual shrug, his tone unbothered. “When we were lads, Jinnie insisted there was something between you two. Meanwhile, I refused to believe that you, Seungmin, could win the heart of someone as kind, honorable, and respectful as our young ward Jeongin here. We wagered fifty gold pieces on it, but I’d forgotten all about it until now."

Despite being overwhelmed with embarrassment, Minho's kind words did help to steady Jeongin’s wildly thumping heart, but they couldn't stop the flood of tears that brimmed over, cascading down his cheeks as he sniffled, burying his face in his hands with shame.

Seungmin noticed instantly, placing a protective hand on Jeongin's shoulder, his expression hardening with resolve. He made a firm mental vow to simultaneously chastise his brothers at the earliest chance, while suppressing a fierce urge to unleash a torrent of curses, mostly directed at Minho.

"You’ve humiliated him enough! Get out!" Seungmin spat through gritted teeth, seething with barely contained fury.

Minho appeared genuinely shocked and remorseful at the doctor's anger, a stark reminder of his own lover's fear when their affairs had been discovered by the very men now before him.

Even in Levanter, a place where customs had evolved towards progressiveness, there remained a fundamental, ingrained fear of the consequences that could arise from engaging in immoral acts outside of marriage, particularly involving royalty. This was a deep-rooted anxiety that couldn’t be easily erased, not in a single night or even over the course of many generations.

Jeongin lowered his trembling hands, bowing awkwardly and speaking in a voice fractured with distress, "Please, forgive me. I never meant to disrespect the crown with my actions towards your brother, Your Majesty, and if it costs me my position, I will accept—"

"Jeongin!” Minho interrupted, his voice booming with disbelief as he moved swiftly to Jeongin’s side of the bed. He sat on the edge, causing Jeongin to tense up, pulling his knees defensively to his chest, eyes averted, refusing to meet Minho's intense gaze. “Disrespect the crown? ‘Your Majesty?’” He repeated with incredulity, his voice wavering between disbelief and confusion. “Why are you speaking to me in such a manner?”

Jeongin's heart pounded with a dread so profound it felt like a tangible weight. Every ounce of effort he'd poured into his training as a physician now seemed to hang by a thread, poised to unravel due to desires he could not suppress. Minho's hand reached out, hesitating before pressing firmly on Jeongin's covered knee. The warmth jolted Jeongin, forcing him to look up, his eyes shimmering with a cocktail of fear and relief at this comforting gesture.

The king's expression mirrored a flicker of hurt, pained by the fear he saw etched in Jeongin's gaze. Yet, his voice remained gentle, a soft cadence that sought to break through the fortress of anxiety.

"Innie, have I ever made you feel less than welcome within these walls? Have I ever stifled your voice— made you think you were not able to share your thoughts and feelings with me freely? When you were brought into our fold, did any one of us fail to convey that you, too, from that day on, were part of our family?" Minho's words were earnest, his eyes locked onto Jeongin's, whose lip trembled violently before he bit down hard, fighting to contain the storm within.

"If that's the case, then I owe you the deepest apology. It's possible I've failed to express my affections for you, for any of you," he said, his eyes lingering on Seungmin with a look of regret, "—as much as I once did. But I assure you, it's simply because I'm overwhelmed and preoccupied with my duties as king, and nothing more," he declared with earnest intensity. “And I must confess, I'm delighted by the revelation that maybe my brother isn't hopeless after all," Minho concluded with a mischievous glint, just as Seungmin delivered a playful whack with a pillow. The unexpected levity broke through Jeongin's tension, drawing a genuine chuckle from him, a small spark of light in the midst of his turmoil.

Seungmin was well-acquainted with his brother’s character, understanding that beneath Minho's sometimes stoic exterior lay a deep love and care for their well-being. Seungmin’s irritation merely stemmed from the unexpected intrusion and the casual disregard for boundaries, which had inadvertently upset his lover. Despite this, Seungmin never for a moment doubted that Minho would ultimately approve of the relationship. Minho was the kind of man who, if Seungmin announced plans to swim with sea beasts before heading off to a deserted island for a vacation filled with adventures like walking along molten rocks, would merely smile, wishing him happiness and safety. He would assure Seungmin that he’d be standing by, ready to mount a rescue if the need ever arose, embodying both support and a laid-back acceptance of anything his brothers desired.

Jeongin lightly shook his head, a slow, deliberate motion as he fought to contain the tears threatening to spill over, a soft laugh escaping his lips in an attempt to mask the tumultuous emotions that surged forth after years of pent-up tension and self-imposed isolation. "You’ve treated me as nothing but family… You all have, and that makes it exceedingly difficult sometimes to remember where I stand—beneath you. I was merely taken in as a ward. I do not deserve all the luxuries I’m provided freely—"

Before he could continue, Minho abruptly interrupted him, smacking his knee with a rough yet familiar gesture, his eyes locking onto Jeongin's with a stern, unwavering glare. "Do not think so lowly of yourself, Innie. Not a soul on this mountain would be alive if not for you. You worked relentlessly and became the youngest physician to ever grace the kingdom, and you very well might be the best, if you asked me. I’ve watched you pull Hyunjin from death’s door more times than I can count on both my hands... you've saved more lives than any person should have to at your age. And even if you never saved a single soul, you are a damn fine man that I am proud to have next to me at any given time, worth every luxury tenfold," Minho scolded, his voice carrying a warmth devoid of malice, as he squeezed Jeongin's knee reassuringly. Jeongin struggled to hold back more tears at the king's heartfelt words.

Breaking the silence once more, Seungmin chimed in gently from Jeongin's side, his voice cutting through the charged air. “Can we address the elephant in the room? As in—why did you find it acceptable to barge into his room without knocking, you ass wipe?”

At this, Minho's face lit up with an almost unsettling brightness, his eyes twinkling with the delight of a child who had just stumbled upon their most cherished game. He clapped his hands once, the sound sharp and decisive, as he exclaimed, “Right!” With a swift, playful motion, he launched himself into the air, landing squarely between Seungmin and Jeongin. The bed beneath them protested with a loud, indignant squeak at the unexpected weight and intrusion.

“Minnnhooo!” Seungmin groaned, exasperation dripping from every syllable as the self-proclaimed king wrapped his arms around both boys' necks. Minho pulled them close against his sides, squeezing them playfully, eliciting a chorus of simultaneous complaints that he chose to ignore entirely.

Bursting with excitement, Minho began to explain, "I actually came to tell you, Innie, to take the rest of the week off. You’ve worked so diligently that you deserve rest. Some of our allies have already dispatched several of their physicians to take on the workload following the battle until you recoup. But since you’re both here, I have a question!” His voice was a mixture of authority and mischief, as if he were delivering both royal decrees and teasing jests.

Seungmin, fueled by frustration, scoffed angrily, his patience wearing thin with the intruder who had so brazenly claimed the spot where he and Jeongin had just been so intimately entangled. “Have you no shame?” Seungmin growled incredulously, eyes narrowing at Minho, who merely shrugged with feigned innocence, his lips curling into a smug smile.

“I could ask the same of you, brother, after hearing those noises you were—mmph?!" Minho’s teasing was abruptly cut off as Seungmin slapped a hand over his mouth, a silent threat of retribution flashing in his narrowed eyes. Jeongin's cheeks flamed a deep crimson, the color spreading like wildfire.

“You’ve got ten seconds to ask your question before I commit regicide,” Seungmin threatened, his tone a blend of humor and genuine menace. Minho, unfazed, giggled with delight, reveling in the torment he inflicted on his younger brother. He released the pair from his playful hold and reclined back, placing his arms behind his head, his smile softening as he drifted into thought.

“What do you think of Han Jisung?” he inquired calmly after a few moments of silence, his voice a gentle ripple in the quiet room. Seungmin blinked, taken aback by the randomness of the question, while Jeongin let out a snort of laughter, curious about how this query related to their current situation.

"Uh..." Seungmin responded with an eloquence that belied his utter confusion, while Jeongin tilted his head, eyes wide with curiosity. "Is that the half-breed you’re boning?" Seungmin clarified, his tone laced with dubiousness, only to receive a swift smack to the back of his head from his brother's hand, which landed with a decisive thud.

“Don’t call him that. He doesn’t like it,” Minho lectured, his voice firm yet calm, though Seungmin appeared unimpressed and unfazed, as if the words merely brushed past him like a gentle breeze before regarding his brother with an expression that suggested Minho had suddenly sprouted seven extra heads, each more peculiar than the last.

"He seems free-spirited," Jeongin offered hesitantly, his voice carrying a note of caution as if he were gingerly testing the waters to gauge how sensitive a topic this might be. “I just met him yesterday, so I don’t have much to say on the matter, except that he seems fiercely protective of the elf prince, which is to be expected... why?” He probed, his brow furrowing as he sought answers in the increasingly perplexing conversation.

Minho fought to suppress a smile, striving to maintain an air of calmness as he directed his gaze upward, seemingly absorbed by the ceiling above. But upon closer inspection, both Jeongin and Seungmin noticed the faintest hint of a rosy tint creeping along his cheekbones and the tips of his ears—a silent testament to the emotions Minho tried to conceal.

“Minho…” Seungmin's voice carried a note of suspicion, his eyebrows arching upward as he hesitated. "Why do you ask?" he repeated with a sense of urgency that suggested he was determined to unearth the truth.

A bright grin appeared across Minho's face, unable to keep composure any longer. “I think I’m in lo—“

“No!” Seungmin shot upright in a flash, his movements swift and vehement, as he clamped his hands over his ears in defiance. His voice was sharp and unwavering as he declared, “You’re just cock whipped and infatuated!”

Meanwhile, Jeongin wore a bemused half-smile that danced on his lips, unable to suppress his amusement at Minho’s lovestruck demeanor. It was a rare sight to see Minho, who typically exuded a cool and unflappable aura, now flushed with a hint of bashfulness, fighting against the urge to break into a radiant grin.

Minho, however, was taken aback by his brother’s reaction, his eyebrows knitting together in a mix of indignation and disbelief. Propping himself up on his elbows, he raised his voice full of righteous indignation, "Hey! How can you say such things? I mean, okay sure, yes, obviously I am enticed by his physicality, but—what?" His tirade was abruptly halted as Seungmin’s piercing glare cut through his words like a knife.

“You just met, and he’s an elf!” Seungmin exclaimed, his voice tinged with incredulity, his expression a perfect picture of bafflement.

Minho’s dramatic pout was almost theatrical as he slumped back onto the mattress, his body sinking into the soft fabric in a display of dejection, clearly stung by his brother’s disapproval.

Jeongin, now perched on his elbows like a sage delivering wisdom, looked at Seungmin with a look of incredulity. “Seungmin! Love has no bias or prejudice, no?” he chided gently, his voice carrying a note of gentle rebuke.

Seungmin huffed, his breath escaping in a frustrated gust as he rubbed his temples, clearly unconvinced and exasperated by the unfolding scene.

"Must I truly lay it all out for you? Especially for you, of all people?" His eyes bore into Jeongin before shifting back to Minho. "Isn't it odd to you that not even a week after these two arrived at our home, you, the king, have already taken one to your bed, and now you're speaking of love?" His voice rose with incredulity, each word dripping with disbelief.

Minho let out a loud, exaggerated groan of frustration, his voice echoing through the room as he slammed his palms down against the mattress. The force of his hit made the bed bounce slightly beneath him. With a huff, he crawled off the bed in a stubborn manner, planting his feet firmly on the floor. Standing tall, he placed his hands on his hips, his posture radiating displeasure. His eyes settled on his younger brother, and he frowned deeply, his expression filled with disappointment.

Jeongin spoke up, his voice tinged with a mix of hesitation and conviction. "I admit, when I first found out that Levanter had allied with Felora and that we would be sharing our home with elves, I was the most upset of anyone, but Felix is gentle and kind. Just yesterday, he spent the entire day in the infirmary by my side, assisting tirelessly despite having no obligation to do so. He was injured and exhausted, and yet he continued to help complete strangers.. Not to mention, he suffered agony to keep Hyunjin free from it. Why would he go to such lengths if his intentions were harmful? And I am confident that Jisung must also be a good person for Felix to trust him so dearly,” he continued, a small note of reverence creeping in.

"You of all people," Minho spat the words back at his brother, his voice laced with a simmering anger. “Should know better than to judge a son for the sins of his father,” he asserted with fierce, unyielding eye contact. “Think about that, brother. I urge you to embrace both Felix and Hannie because, whether you or Jinnie like it or not, they are part of our lives now."

After delivering his piercing message, Minho stormed off, leaving Jeongin and Seungmin to grapple with the whirlwind of emotions that had unfolded in mere minutes, yet felt like an eternity due to the overwhelming intensity.

An interminable stretch of taut silence enveloped the two individuals left alone, hanging heavily in the air like a thick fog that stifled any attempt at conversation. Each heartbeat echoed in the stillness, and the weight of unspoken words hung like a dark cloud, leaving a palpable tension that seemed to stretch endlessly between them.

“I cannot pretend that I don’t harbor my own reservations and doubts, but so far, I do believe Felix means well,” Jeongin murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, shattering the heavy silence. He sat up with determination, meeting Seungmin’s eyes with a gaze so penetrating that it made Seungmin shift uncomfortably, unable to escape the weight of Jeongin’s stare.

“And Han Jisung?” Seungmin wondered with skepticism lacing tone.

“I don’t have as much experience with him, but like I said, he is Felix’s closest companion. Thus, I think it’s safe to assume that he is good," Jeongin began, his voice laced with cautious optimism. "I truly feared the worst upon their arrival. But after watching Felix endure excruciating pain after siphoning it from Hyunjin, who treats him with nothing but blatant disrespect, I was forced to accept that perhaps there was no hidden agenda. Felix had nothing to gain from his actions, making me realize how foolish it is to judge a stranger based on the blood that runs through their veins," Jeongin confessed, his tone softening as he offered a gentle, reassuring smile. “I am a doctor, after all, and we all bleed red. When someone is on my table, it matters not what their family has done, where they are from, or who they love.” His words hung in the air, imbued with a sincerity that transcended mere profession, resonating with the fundamental truth of shared humanity.

Seungmin mulled over these words for a moment, staring blankly ahead thoughtfully, before muttering softly in response.

"Still... we barely know them… I just advise everyone to remain cautious,” Seungmin whispered, his voice a soft murmur that seemed to weave through the air like a secret carried by the wind, as though afraid that invisible ears might be listening despite their solitude in the dimly lit room.

Jeongin nodded solemnly, feeling a calming wave of relief wash over him, settling his restless thoughts like a gentle lullaby. This newfound peace allowed a brilliant smile to unfurl across his delicate features, illuminating his face with a radiance that made Seungmin's heart skip a beat, captivated by the effortless charm and handsomeness Jeongin exuded.

The bard tilted his head slightly, an eyebrow arching in curiosity as he pondered the reason behind Jeongin's sudden, expansive grin.

“What the hell are you smiling about now?" Seungmin mumbled with affectionate amusement, inching closer until he was near enough to wrap an arm around Jeongin's neck, pulling him in with a gentle tug until he could plant a soft, tender kiss on Jeongin's cheek.

A rich, deep red blossomed across Jeongin's cheeks, a beautiful flush that spread like watercolor on canvas as his vibrant smile slowly faded, his eyes darting around nervously to avoid Seungmin's gaze.

He swallowed hard, his throat tightening with emotion, before he finally spoke with a tentative voice, his eyes tentatively lifting to meet Seungmin's questioning gaze. "Minho approves of us... that puts me at ease," he admitted shyly, his words a quiet confession that seemed to hang in the air between them.

And Seungmin wanted to laugh, a soft scoff escaping his lips as disbelief washed over him at how remarkably considerate his lover was, prioritizing the comfort of others above his own well-being. “Who cares about what he thinks?" he asked incredulously, a fond grin spreading across his face as he watched Jeongin visibly relax, rolling his eyes with an affectionate exasperation.

“Just because he’s your blood doesn’t negate the fact that he’s the king,” Jeongin chided patiently, a playful half-smile dancing on his lips, his eyes shimmering with a mix of mischief and sincerity. Seungmin scrunched his nose in indignation, the corners of his mouth twitching in protest, but he sighed deeply, surrendering to the moment in order to spare Jeongin any further stress from arguing over such futile points.

The warmth of their connection enveloped them, softening the edges of their banter.

"So, with no responsibilities today, how are you planning to spend the rest of your evening?" Seungmin teased, his voice carrying a playful lilt as he waggled his eyebrows dramatically. He sank back into the plush, overstuffed pillows that cradled him, emphasizing his point with a relaxed posture and a mischievous grin.

Jeongin responded with a roll of his eyes, a gesture filled with fond amusement. He leaned forward, closing the distance between them, and pressed a tender kiss to Seungmin's lips. The affectionate peck lingered, stretching into several seconds of warmth and connection before Jeongin, with a touch of reluctance, drew back.

He gently brushed his fingertips over Seungmin's bare stomach, which made him shiver slightly before responding with amusement.

"I ought to sleep straight through until tomorrow to make up for weeks of lost rest," he teased, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips as Seungmin pouted and he carried on. "But… if you ask nicely—" He started to suggest, but Seungmin was already ahead of him, shoving him forcefully onto his back. Seungmin hovered over Jeongin with an intense possessiveness, capturing him in a fervent, consuming kiss. Jeongin, momentarily breaking away, let out an infectious giggle and earnestly asked, "Are you sure this isn’t too straining for you?" He noticed the tremor in Seungmin's one arm struggling to hold him up alone. Seungmin silenced his concern with another deep, lingering kiss, pulling away only when they were both breathless and panting.

"Can I...?" Seungmin's voice wavered with uncertainty, his eyes desperately scanning Jeongin's face for any hint of approval. "Please," he added, his plea tinged with urgency.

Jeongin's mind was a battlefield of conflict. As Seungmin's physician, his instincts screamed caution, but as his lover, he understood the hunger in Seungmin's request. As Seungmin's physician, his instincts screamed caution, but as his lover, he understood the hunger in Seungmin's request. He was well acquainted with Seungmin's fervent passion for topping in the missionary position that required every ounce of his strength— encounters that demanded the full use of his arms to support his weight and drive his movements with precision and power.

Yet the longing in Jeongin's heart had been a relentless ache, one that finally overpowered his reservations. In that moment, he surrendered to Seungmin's need.

“Okay, but put your weight on me. All of it,” he insisted with an intense determination, his eyes blazing beneath a sweet smile, his thighs spreading wide in a silent yet commanding invitation. “If you feel any discomfort, we stop immediately, agreed?" He added with unyielding firmness, though his lips curled into a smug grin when Seungmin didn't flinch at the added conditions, nodding eagerly before frantically scouring through the sheets to retrieve the discarded oil. With deliberate care, he lathered both himself and Jeongin’s entrance before positioning Jeongin's legs around his waist, sinking between them with a possessive grace, letting his weight press into the curve of Jeongin's neck. He inhaled sharply as Jeongin exhaled slowly, both reveling in the electrifying sensation of reunion.

“Fuck, I missed this,” Seungmin breathed heavily, his voice a raw whisper into the shell of Jeongin’s ear, his right hand caressing Jeongin's thigh with fervor.

Jeongin let out a breathy laugh, euphoric disbelief washing over him at having his love back within his grasp.

"I'm ready when you're ready," he murmured, his hand stroking Seungmin’s back soothingly. His other hand gripped the headboard with white-knuckled force, bracing for the overwhelming intensity he had come to expect. When their bodies were bare and intertwined in such a position, Seungmin seemed to transform into something primal, thrusting with wild, unrestrained vigor.

With those words, Seungmin began to move, each thrust a deliberate plunge into overwhelming warmth, their bodies entwined in a symphony of soft pants, gasps, and moans as euphoria engulfed them, allowing both men to savor the depth of their connection.

Flushed and dizzy from the intoxicating rush of blood and love, Jeongin clung to the older man with wild abandon. His fingers dug deeply into the firm, muscular curve of Seungmin’s back, desperately searching for leverage in this newfound universe of ecstasy. The full weight of Seungmin pressed down upon him as he moved rhythmically created a symphony of sensations that threatened to unravel Jeongin’s composure altogether. Each roll of Seungmin’s hips was a promise, a breathless assurance that he was here to stay and there was more to come, and Jeongin arched up into every stroke, welcoming the surge of heat and the sharp bite of pleasure that lingered on its heels.

Chapter Text

Felix spent the remainder of the day lounging in Jisung's room, allowing his body to rest while he consumed ample amounts of protein to replenish his energy. They chatted about everything under the sun, including the shocking tale of Felix's impromptu handjob given to the commander. Jisung nearly fainted from disbelief, unable to comprehend that Felix had actually done such a thing, yet he felt a sense of pride in his friend. However, he wasn't entirely sure the commander deserved such a pleasurable experience.

Every other hour, King Minho would dart into the room between his royal duties, planting tender kisses on Jisung's forehead and asking how he was feeling. This left Felix both baffled and slightly perturbed, yet the way Jisung's face lit up with pure joy was undeniable, leaving Felix unable to protest. Perhaps a twinge of jealousy lingered within him—after all, they had moved here because of Felix's marriage, yet it was Jisung who received these loving gestures. Nevertheless, Felix quickly brushed aside these feelings, recognizing that Jisung deserved such affection more than anyone. Still, there was an underlying fear, born from experience, that the king's intentions might not be pure or entirely genuine. Felix's caution came from the many times he'd held Jisung in his arms, comforting him after heartbreak.

Later, when Felix returned to his own chambers that night, he climbed into bed, tossing and turning restlessly until finally, his husband entered the room, ready to turn in for the night.

It wasn’t until they were lying side by side in the hush that Hyunjin acknowledged him.

"They were mercenaries. All of them," the commander muttered, lying flat on his back, eyes locked on the ceiling vacantly.

Felix shifted uneasily, the sheets rustling around his legs. "Hired by whom?" he inquired.

Hyunjin merely shrugged, a gesture heavy with unspoken truths.

Felix momentarily pondered why Hyunjin had chosen to reveal such casual yet potent information to him without prompting. But he decided to seize this unexpected victory and refrained from pushing for more.

The following days were a whirlwind of chaos as Felix immersed himself in the tumultuous infirmary, where wounded soldiers overflowed into the corridors like a relentless tide. He threw himself into every task, side by side with Jeongin, who, despite being relieved of his duties, showed up driven by an unwavering desire to help—a testament to the young doctor's selflessness, Felix mused.

Felix's leg mended rapidly as expected and the relentless pace gave him a vital sense of purpose, anchoring his mind from spiraling into despair and keeping his emotions from shattering. The sheer magnitude of his life upheaval and the cultural shock pounding at his senses wasn't something he was willing to sit idly and process in silence.

He avoided attending council, aware that he was unprepared to navigate discussions of war and the grave matters at hand. Instead, he frequently visited Jisung, whose injuries were more severe than his own, his features still etched in vivid purple and demanding more time to heal. Yet, Jisung's indomitable spirit shone brightly, a beacon of resilience that was all Felix could have wished for. The way Jisung's entire being seemed to radiate with warmth and joy when he spoke of Minho—or Lee Know, as he affectionately called him—filled Felix with a profound sense of fulfillment. Witnessing his friend's radiant smile made all the turmoil and sacrifice feel worthwhile.

Hyunjin seemed to be in his own world, consumed by his duties. He attended council, drilled soldiers, and vanished from dawn until well after dusk, only to collapse into bed beside Felix. Each night together, the boundaries between them blurred, bed manners thrown to the wind. It wasn't unusual for Felix to get a knee to his back or for his elbow to crash into Hyunjin's forehead in the dead of night, but the actions didn’t come with reprimand—only sleepy grumbles and the occasional mumbled curt apology.

Their conversations were sparse, mere exchanges at the brink of sleep or the cusp of waking, but it marked progress. Despite his bitterness toward the commander, Felix found himself strangely treasuring these moments. What he didn't treasure were the icy feet that pressed against his bare calves, followed by Hyunjin's snickering, or waking up shivering, stripped of warmth, with the covers completely claimed by a stubbornly sleeping commander.

Somehow, this felt more intimate than if they’d actually shared secrets. It was in the small, mundane ways a person shaped space around themselves, the treacherous comfort of a familiar nuisance.

Sharing a room stripped away privacy; the commander would nonchalantly stroll into the bathroom while Felix brushed his teeth or washed his face, unabashedly relieving himself before carelessly stripping for a shower. Felix had to exert every ounce of willpower not to stare—or, worse, let his stare linger.

When Saturday finally arrived, Hyunjin had vanished before the first rays of dawn even touched Felix’s eyelids. Felix suspected he was off orchestrating the grand celebrations. Following his newfound routine, he crawled out of bed, swiftly washed up, and dressed in a flurry of motion before marching with purpose to the infirmary, ready to face whatever the day demanded.

Felix applied the ointment with determined precision under the eye of the unconscious man sprawled on the cot, his heart pounding with gratitude, believing that soon, the man's agony would be significantly alleviated upon awakening.

“That’s pointless, you know,” Hyunjin's voice cut through the air like a blade from the doorway, jolting Felix, who spun around to confront the intruder. Initially, Felix was taken aback, both by Hyunjin's sudden appearance and the cold remark that dripped with indifference.

Hyunjin strode into the room, his presence commanding in a deep crimson tunic that clung to every muscle, paired with black leather breeches and boots that thudded ominously against the floor. Felix set the ointment tin aside with a deliberate calmness, a storm brewing beneath his composed exterior.

"Pardon?” Felix demanded, his voice steady but edged with a hint of steel, seeking clarity on what Hyunjin deemed meaningless, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Hyunjin moved closer, his gaze unflinching as he gestured at the man on the cot. “He’s not going to make it, so what you’re doing—it’s pointless,” he declared with a brutal frankness that sent a chill through the air.

Felix's jaw dropped, struck by the brutal insensitivity of Hyunjin's words. “You cannot possibly know that without examining him firsthand!” Felix retorted, his voice rising with a fierce defiance. "Would you really dismiss someone who might still have a fighting chance at recovery, all because of baseless assumptions? What about exploring every possible option and granting him the opportunity to rise and live fully once more?" He challenged, his anger barely contained, seething beneath the surface.

Hyunjin eyes appeared solemn, stepping over to the soldier. He tore the blanket away with a swift motion, revealing the man's thigh, a grotesque sight of blackened flesh riddled with pus-filled abscesses that oozed with infection, leaving no doubt of the grim reality.

“We discovered that a handful of those assholes wielded poisoned weapons. Anyone who suffered even a mere scratch from one of them is doomed—whether they meet their end swiftly or linger in agony, tomorrow or next week… Their fate is set in stone. There’s no antidote for this particular poison,” he stated with a chilling detachment, carefully rewrapping the infected leg as Felix stood frozen in disbelief, terror churning violently within him.

“What if… Jisung?” Felix whispered, panic surging through him as the horrifying thought that Jisung could also be poisoned hit him. Just as he tried to sprint away to check on his friend, a hand clamped down on his shirt, halting his movement.

“Calm down. He’s fine. He’s been bedded in his chambers since fighting, no? If Jeongin allowed him to be anywhere but here then he’s been cleared already,” Hyunjin explained monotonously, loosening his grip only after seeing Felix’s body relax slightly.

A wave of relief crashed over Felix, but he turned to Hyunjin with a penetrating gaze, curiosity mingling with concern. Despite his demeanor, Hyunjin didn’t seem particularly cruel; in fact, he appeared more burdened than anything else, igniting a flicker of worry in Felix’s mind.

Felix watched intently as Hyunjin approached a specific cot tucked away in the corner of the grand room, his demeanor softening as he placed a hand gently on the occupant's forehead, brushing aside hair from closed eyes while releasing a shuddering breath, the weight of the moment pressing heavily upon them both.

"I'm sorry, kid," Hyunjin whispered, his voice barely audible and trembling slightly, creating a stark display of vulnerability that made Felix's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. The patient appeared no older than eighteen, but the extent of his mutilations made it difficult to gauge his true age, and Felix understood the grim reality that the young soldier's time was coming to an end.

Felix watched in silence as Hyunjin moved methodically from one comrade to another, offering reassurance and a moment of companionship to each, but Felix couldn't ignore the way Hyunjin frequently wiped his tears away with a shaky hand, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. As he completed his rounds, Hyunjin steeled himself, his demeanor shifting to a cool facade as he turned to address Felix.

"Is there some reason you're skulking around here?" he questioned with feigned disinterest, though the redness around his eyes betrayed the storm of emotions he was barely keeping in check. "I don’t feel comfortable with you here without Jeongin present—"

"Even if I intended to harm someone, various staff members are cycling through here constantly. Anyone could walk in at any given moment, so why would I risk it here if my survival depended on discretion?" Felix retorted sharply, striving to keep his tone neutral and logical, though the insinuation pierced him deeply.

Hyunjin fixed a piercing gaze on the elf, scrutinizing him for several tense seconds, as if trying to dissect his intentions. The silent accusation kindled a fire of rage within Felix, and at last, he snapped with palpable bitterness.

"Following the carnage, I was right here for endless hours, desperately trying to keep your comrades’ insides from spilling out while they endured the most excruciating agony imaginable, clinging to a fragile hope of life or at least granting them a peaceful death where they wouldn't die alone, despite having never met them. And you? You were gallivanting on your fire-breathing beast, off to god knows where to get tipsy, only to stagger back at some ungodly hour of the morning!" he spat, his words dripping with undisguised contempt.

Hyunjin recoiled as if struck by the accusation, his eyes darting guiltily to one of the comatose soldiers, whose injuries were far graver than any others in the infirmary. Felix watched as Hyunjin swallowed hard, his gaze lingering almost apologetically on the youngest soldier’s lifeless form.

When Hyunjin finally spoke, his voice was choked with guilt. "Get ready. We have guests. We have to pretend that we don’t hate each other for a night," he muttered bitterly, brushing past Felix without a glance, leaving the room without a backward look.

Felix's guilt simmered beneath the surface after he had pointedly called out Hyunjin's absence. The young commander's relentless, unwarranted hostility had ignited a fiery ire within Felix, one that he could no longer suppress. Yet, a fierce pride surged through him for having stood his ground, defying his naturally non-confrontational demeanor. Triumph coursed through his veins as Hyunjin, for once, had been unable to unleash his usual fury after being put in his place.

Emboldened by a newfound confidence, Felix steeled himself for the night's upcoming challenges. A wicked smirk crept across his lips as he savored the thought of provoking his obnoxiously rude husband in front of others, rendering him impotent in his rage. This was going to be exhilarating, Felix mused with a thrill of anticipation.

Chapter Text

"You look fine!" Jisung exclaimed with a hint of impatience at Felix, who stood before a grand, ornate mirror in his room, meticulously adjusting his attire.

Felix pouted, clearly dissatisfied. "You're not even looking!" he complained.

Jisung lay sprawled on the bed, a cold ice pack enveloping his eyes completely, obscuring his vision. His brow furrowed slightly in response.

"Well, I can sense it!" he retorted, his tone playful yet reassuring.

Felix rolled his eyes with a touch of amusement before deciding to leave his appearance as it was. He was venturing so far beyond his comfort zone that he knew it was just nerves causing his fussiness.

"Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?" Felix inquired hopefully while gathering his shoes. "I'm sure we could find you a mask or something if you're still feeling self-conscious..." His suggestion was tinged with doubt.

Jisung shook his head resolutely. "Minho has confined me to this bed until I'm cleared and, unfortunately, not in the way I'd prefer..." he jested, his voice laced with tired humor.

Felix snorted softly at the innuendo, quickly fastening the straps before hopping to his feet. He smoothed out the creases in his outfit with a swift motion.

"I appreciate how he cares for you, Ji. I have to ask, though, is this arrangement between the two of you purely casual? Can you see others if you wish, is it temporary, or...?" He trailed off, his inquiry hanging uncertainly in the air.

Jisung lifted the bag of ice and crushed herbs from his eyes, wiggling his brows playfully.

"Why? Is this your way of finally confessing your undying love after all these years?" he teased, puckering his lips in a mock kiss.

Felix chuckled, making his way over to the bed. He climbed onto it with care, enveloping his friend in a warm embrace and planting a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"You wish!" The elf laughed, a warm tide of affection surging within him for his closest companion. "You know the drill—call for me if you need anything, alright? Even if it’s just to have someone by your side. I’ll grasp at any chance to dodge those lecherous Levanter gatherings after that wedding fiasco," he declared, a mischievous glint lighting up his eyes.

As he released his grip on Jisung, the latter scanned him from head to toe, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “God damn, Lee Felix! Are you part of the dessert menu tonight? Because you’re looking like a feast!” he exclaimed, a low whistle escaping his lips, awe evident in his voice.

Felix erupted in a hearty laugh, shaking his head in mock exasperation. “Shut your mouth and behave. And seriously, send for me if you need anything—got it?”

"Okay," Jisung replied, his voice a soft murmur, a wide yawn breaking from him as he turned, wrapping his arms around his pillow in a cozy embrace, ready to drift into a deep slumber. “Bring me some cake if they have any!”

Felix left Jisung's side with confidence, assured that his friend was in good hands. Yet, as he descended the stairs toward the feast hall, anxiety clawed its way back into his chest with a vengeance. This might have been a reckless decision, but it was far too late to reconsider now. Steeling himself against the chaotic din beyond the door, he flung it open with determination, only to be met by a sea of gaping stares that froze his heart in an instant.

Felix's presence was a vision of audacious elegance. His luscious blonde hair was slicked back with precision, making his ethereal facial features all the more striking. The smoky charcoal painted above and below his lashes intensified the gaze of his unique irises, demanding attention even from afar. He wore a sleeveless black vest that plunged daringly, exposing the entire expanse of his collarbone and sternum, while framing his chest with a bold allure. The vest ended abruptly at his belly button, where a golden chain clung snugly to his slim, bare waist. His long black pants, fitted only at the hips, cascaded around him like a flowing skirt, each step revealing tantalizing glimpses of his legs through slits that reached daringly up to his mid-thigh.

For the final touch, he donned crimson leather vambraces that matched his bold red leather boots, fully embracing the Levanter colors of black, gold, and red—a glaring contrast to Felora's stark white, silver, and ivory. With his head held high, Felix surveyed his surroundings with a brazen confidence, striding directly toward the table where Hyunjin sat, his glare sharp and steely, clearly stunned by Felix's audacity to display such bold, revealing attire without a hint of shame. Such daring was unheard of for an elf.

In Felora, exposing even a hint of skin to anyone other than a spouse was considered scandalous, but to reveal so much to an entire gathering was an audacious act of rebellion. It was a brazen display of disrespect to a spouse, a deliberate provocation that screamed defiance.

Felix's lips curled into a mischievous smirk as he pulled out a chair beside his husband, seating himself with a deliberate elegance. The gawking stares from Hyunjin’s comrades only fueled Felix's resolve, each glance a testament to his provocative triumph.

Ignoring the burning intensity of the commander's glare, Felix casually rested his right elbow on the tabletop, extending his left arm with calculated grace toward one of Hyunjin's friends, offering his hand in a polite yet unmistakably assertive gesture as he addressed him with disarming geniality.

“I don’t believe we’ve met. Lee Felix,” he declared, his voice a silken blade cutting through the air, before gesturing toward Hyunjin, "Your commander's new consort." The soldier's eyes betrayed a momentary flicker of surprise, though his face remained as stony as the others gathered around the table, apart from those openly gawking at Felix, nudging their neighbors furtively to draw attention to the spectacle before them.

“Aye, we’ve heard about you," another soldier drawled, dismissing the conversation with a wave of indifference until Felix leaned forward, a sultry smile playing on his lips, a tantalizing hint of chest exposed. Hyunjin noticed the display immediately, his eyes narrowing. The soldier's demeanor cracked, his facade of disinterest shattered by shock and intrigue, as Felix struggled to suppress a smirk at the soldier’s flustered reaction.

"Uhhh... y-yeah… umm. Right! It's... my pleasure..." he stammered, his confidence crumbling as he found himself entrapped by Felix's captivating presence. His companions erupted into amused snickers at his speechless state, some unabashedly feasting their eyes on the elf. Yet, Hyunjin was far from amused. Beneath the table, his fists clenched and unclenched with a mounting fury, his expression remaining a mask of calm as he resisted the urge to reveal his seething frustration amidst the company.

Felix, unfazed by the reactions swirling around him, continued with unerring poise. “The pleasure is mine, sir. It’s not often I have the honor of being surrounded by such formidable warriors all at once," he purred, his words smooth as silk, as if this charged encounter were nothing more than a casual exchange.

The men erupted into raucous laughter that echoed off the walls, their pints raised high in a raucous toast to their own bravado, voices booming as they praised one another with an obnoxious fervor. They gulped down their drinks with reckless abandon, slamming their empty mugs onto the wooden tabletops with a deafening crash. Felix stared in disbelief at the sheer chaos the Levanters unleashed in public, momentarily forgetting his resolve to hold judgment. These men had just clawed their way through a bloody battlefield, and this raucous revelry was their way of coping, no matter how crass it seemed.

Hyunjin, a spark of mischief igniting in his eyes, slammed down his mug with a thundering finality, leaning forward to pin the men with a fierce glare. “Didn’t I teach you lot better than to fall for Feloran wiles? Perhaps a night in the dungeons could remind you,” he mused, a wicked grin curling his lips. Felix felt a cold knot twist in his stomach at the implications of imprisonment that hung in the air, all due to him.

Yet, the men seemed to catch a humor in Hyunjin’s words that eluded Felix, erupting into a chorus of laughter as if they were merely exchanging jests. “Says the man sharing his bed with one,” one of them shot back, his mouth full of bread, laughter spilling out like a drunken confession.

Another chimed in with a crude jest, “What hidden skills does he possess beneath the sheets that make being with an elf justifiable?”

The room exploded into a chaotic symphony of raucous laughter, voices clashing in a wild storm of encouragement, some shouting obscene invitations to find out for themselves, sending a bolt of anxiety racing like lightning through Felix’s veins.

“The elf can still walk! You going soft on us now, Jinnie?” a particularly inebriated man slurred incredulously, prompting an even louder uproar as the crowd began hurling crude jokes about being able to remedy that for him, which twisted Felix’s stomach into knots of discomfort, making him regret ever donning such an outfit. But before he could muster a word to defend himself against the barrage of offensive remarks, Hyunjin’s hand landed firmly on Felix's upper thigh beneath the slit of the long pant leg, a silent declaration amidst the chaos.

Hyunjin lounged back with an air of nonchalance, completely unfazed by the probing inquiry. Yet, a quick, sharp glance darted towards Felix before Hyunjin's lips curled into a devilish smirk aimed at his comrades. His fingers traced slow, deliberate circles over the tender skin of Felix's thigh, squeezing it with an intensity that was both gentle and fiercely meaningful. It wasn’t exactly possessive. The unexpected tenderness was almost disarming, sending fierce jolts of electricity ricocheting through Felix’s body, igniting a flush of shock and bewilderment. The gesture felt so natural, yet Felix grappled with a sense of unworthiness, the raw intimacy clashing with his defenses. It was as though Hyunjin was silently reassuring him through touch, urging him not to fear the comments while subtly protecting his standing among their peers.

But Felix wasn't about to back down. He was not so easily shaken, and he refused to let Hyunjin see him as such. With determination burning in his eyes, Felix cut through the tension before the commander could unleash any more banter.

"Actually, you'd be surprised at how submissive your commander can become under the right... circumstances," he murmured with a wicked grin, biting his lip in a provocative tease. His left hand settled on Hyunjin’s shoulder, rubbing with a deliberate sensuality while locking eyes with him, igniting a noticeable blush that crept across Hyunjin's cheeks. He shifted uneasily in his chair as laughter and wolf-whistles erupted around them, the crowd blissfully ignorant of the reality of the pair’s relationship.

Their eyes locked in a brief, charged moment, a silent exchange of gratitude from the elf at Hyunjin’s touch beneath the table—reassuring, yet tinged with an almost unsettling intimacy.

Just as the conversation threatened to dip further into lewd banter, the doors were opened wide by guards with a dramatic flair. King Minho strode in, exuding regal charm, flanked by an entourage of soldiers, each one a testament to his commanding presence.

His outfit was a symphony of black, an abyss of shadow with only fierce flashes of blood red accessories that screamed power and majesty. Yet, the true spectacle was the single choker necklace of gold that clung to the king's neck, a radiant beacon that seized Hyunjin's gaze and held it captive. As the king strode with regal confidence toward the head table, the room erupted into a cacophony of wild whistles and fervent applause, a thunderous acclaim that everyone joined, save for the commander who watched in silence.

It was then that Felix's breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening slightly as he realized King Minho's crown was conspicuously absent from his head. Beside him, Hyunjin clapped with a wan enthusiasm, his smile soft yet tinged with an undercurrent of concern as Minho approached, his expression bright but fleeting. The commander leaned in, his voice cutting through the chaos like a whisper of wind, as if he were plucking the very thoughts from Felix's mind.

"He ditches the crown in moments when he feels unworthy,” Hyunjin revealed, his tone thick with unspoken gravity. He caught the confusion etched across Felix’s face and pressed on, his words dripping with sorrow. "He carries the weight of invasion on his shoulders and believes that donning his crown would be selfish, a betrayal to those who fell under his watch."

Felix's heart surged with a deep empathy for the king, who radiated an infectious dominance, yet was starkly vulnerable, masked by emotions that many overlooked. "How could he have possibly known—" Felix started, but Hyunjin swiftly interrupted, diverting the conversation into a different realm entirely, leaving Felix grappling with the turmoil of Minho's burden.

"As for the gold around his neck, that means he is currently unavailable should anyone seek his affections tonight. It basically means ‘no trespassing,’" he explained with a sharp edge of amusement, nodding with a knowing glance at the choker. "Though I must admit, Minho has always been rather unavailable in that aspect. Most wouldn’t bother anyway, so the fact that he’s taken to the custom of symbolizing this tonight suggests your friend may be in far deeper than he even realizes." His voice dropped to a murmur, laced with a hint of dark amusement. "Just know that whatever he’s done to my brother will eventually come to light, and you’d better hope it doesn’t involve elven magic…" His warning was light, but the threat lingered heavily in the air.

Felix raised an eyebrow, sharp and questioning, as his gaze locked onto Minho, who settled into his seat with an air of authority. Minho's presence was magnetic, drawing guests to him like moths to a flame. They approached with reverent bows, only to be met with his animated and kind greetings.

"Is it so hard to believe that maybe he’s found someone who resonates with him on a profound level without the need for any magical meddling?" Felix snapped, his voice edged with frustration. "Not everything about elves is wrapped in mystical nonsense! Haven’t you ever heard of soulmates?" He was fiercely defensive, angered by the relentless stereotypes dogging his kind, but what really ignited his fury was the accusation against his best friend. Jisung would never cross such a moral boundary.

Hyunjin remained eerily silent, his gaze piercing the void as if he were lost in a world far beyond Felix's fervent words.

“Perhaps you should accept that your brother, despite his title as king, is merely a man and back home, my advisor was rather renown in the shadows for his exceptional skills in the bedroom, and that's among people who wield magic of their own and could resist such ridiculous spells you accuse him of," Felix shot back coldly, snatching Hyunjin's cup with an audacious flair and downing his ale as if discussing mere gossip rather than the weighty matters of desire and power.

Hyunjin's response was a derisive scoff, laced with a palpable blend of disdain and fury.

"Great to know my brother is enamored with a fucking—" he spat with venom, but before the commander could even blink, Felix seized the back of his neck with a grip like iron claws, nails digging into the skin. He yanked Hyunjin in so forcefully that his forehead smashed into the man’s temple, Felix's nails embedding deeper into Hyunjin's nape. His whisper was a sinister hiss, directly into Hyunjin's ear, yet his face wore a mask of deceptive sultry sweetness. To any observer, they appeared to be lovers exchanging intimate secrets, oblivious to the homicidal ideation just beneath the elf’s surface.

"You can hurl every insult known to man at me until kingdom come, Jinnie," he spat with a mocking lilt that dripped with disdain. "But dare to utter Jisung's name from those pretty lips of yours, and I will unleash a side of my powers that you would dread to see, let alone endure," he crooned, barely stifling the breathy laughter bubbling up inside him as Hyunjin squirmed against his grasp, instinctively fighting against Felix's iron grip, which ignited a wicked thrill in the elf.

Yet, in the face of such a dire warning, Hyunjin wore a smirk of triumph.

"There you are," he sang, his voice quiet and taunting, squeezing Felix's thigh with a renewed ferocity for a heartbeat before releasing him entirely, but Felix stood his ground, unyielding.

"Here I am," he agreed with a slick confidence, before shoving Hyunjin away with a force that sent a ripple through the watching crowd.

With an air of feigned innocence, he smiled cutely at the sudden surge of curious gazes in their direction.

"You might want to teach your commander some self-control around others. Being expected to perform for free is downright insulting," he mused with mockery, his words like a whip crack that sent nearby soldiers into a fit of uproarious laughter, their hands slapping the commander’s back in a show of boisterous camaraderie.

Meanwhile, Hyunjin sat frozen, his mind spinning in turmoil, questioning the madness that had driven him to trace circles on Felix's exposed thigh with such intimate familiarity, despite the palpable animosity between them. He dared not even glance at Felix, fear and confusion warring within him.

Felix's grin was a wicked curve of satisfaction, a fire sparking within him that refused to be doused, ignited by the mere presence of the human whose every glance set his soul ablaze. The relentless clang of metal meeting ceramic echoed fiercely through the hall as Minho rose to his full, commanding height, his mug held high.

"While it is an honor to stand among such esteemed company, tonight we gather not only to revel in our victory but also to mourn our fallen. The ambush delivered a crushing blow to Levanter—devastating, yet only the south mountain was breached, sparing our common folk. Nevertheless, we lost countless brothers and sisters in the carnage. I speak to you with complete transparency—we remain in the dark about the identities of our assailants. They were mercenaries, bearing no banners, no sigils, leaving us without a motive to grasp. But rest assured, several were taken alive, and we will stop at nothing to extract the truth from them." Felix's stomach twisted violently, haunted by his attacker's cryptic words that hinted he was the true target, guilt crashing over him like a relentless wave. "They have dared to awaken a sleeping dragon, and I promise you, their treachery will be met with merciless vengeance. But this night, this night is for celebration! Lift your glasses high for our fallen comrades and vow to them that their deaths shall be avenged tenfold. Soon, we will drench ourselves in the blood of the cowards who dared to threaten us, but let us first bask in our glorious triumph for all to witness! Let the charred corpses heaped around our borders serve as a dire warning to all—Do not fuck with Levanter! Tonight, revel with abandon, for the fallen do not seek your tears; they demand you honor their sacrifice by living to the fullest!"

Everyone stood, their spines straight as glasses clashed together with a piercing clang, so loud it was almost painful. Cheers erupted like a tempest, reverberating through the vast castle halls, each echo a thunderous roar that engulfed the vicinity.

Yet, Felix remained silent and seated, and most surprisingly, so did Hyunjin, who had neither cheered nor moved from his spot. Felix shot him a curious glance, and as if aware of the scrutiny, Hyunjin suddenly rose, seamlessly joining the revelry as though nothing had happened. The atmosphere shifted dramatically as drums pounded with relentless force, followed by a booming bass that crafted a hypnotic rhythm, inciting the crowd into a merry frenzy. Musicians played with vigor, their energy infectious as servers darted about, balancing platters brimming with food and tankards overflowing with drinks. Many revelers already swayed and staggered in drunken stupor, drawing laughter and jeers from the crowd at their clumsy antics.

Hyunjin cast a sly glance at Felix, his lips curling into a devilish smirk before he plunged into the chaos, as if the previous tension had evaporated into thin air.

Felix, feeling a sudden, sharp pang of foolishness, realized he had been absurd to think he could unsettle the battle-hardened warrior. Picking at the chicken on his plate, Felix watched intently as Hyunjin swept a delicate young man into his arms, twirling him with masterful precision. The young man's laughter rang out, pure and ecstatic, as he basked in the honor of being chosen by the esteemed commander. The surrounding crowd erupted with joyful laughter and teasing whistles, the spectacle fueling their own wild dancing and boisterous revelry, making it nearly impossible to keep track of Hyunjin’s movements amidst the swirling masses. Hyunjin, it seemed, was an extraordinary dancer, missing not a single beat in the cacophony of music and merriment.

A sudden, fierce wave of jealousy crashed over Felix, drenching his senses and darkening his mood. He tore his gaze away, desperate to shield himself from witnessing anything that might further unsettle him. The emotion made no logical sense, yet something deep within Felix loathed the display. He tried to rationalize it as annoyance at Hyunjin's facade, a clever ruse to mask his true nature, but a deeper, unacknowledged truth whispered otherwise.

With a heavy heart, he resolved to mingle with Minho, whom he spotted sitting alone at the head table, his face a storm of deep-seated worry. Approaching the king, Felix executed a formal bow, his lips briefly curving into a smile that dissolved as swiftly as it had appeared when he noticed the tear Minho hurriedly brushed away.

Felix swiftly moved around the table, taking a seat beside Minho with deliberate care. "Your Majesty, are you truly alright? You sustained several wounds yourself, yet you press on relentlessly. Shouldn't you at least consider taking a day's rest? Would you like me to fetch Jeongin?" he asked, his voice thick with concern.

Minho blinked slowly, his eyes locking onto Felix with gratitude, a faint smile breaking through the cloud of his distress. "I am truly thankful that Hannie has a friend like you," he murmured, nodding with a solemn resolve. "I've suffered injuries far worse than these. Do not worry."

"Is there something troubling you?" Felix pressed gently, eager to lift some of the crushing weight Minho seemed to be carrying.

Minho inhaled deeply, his gaze sweeping over the throngs of dancing partygoers, each one adrift in their own euphoric daze. "I do not enjoy lying," he confessed, his voice carrying a weight of unspoken turmoil.

"Lying?" Felix pressed, unable to restrain his burning curiosity.

"I'm aware that our enemy quite possibly invaded in search of you. Jisung informed me what they said," Minho's words were laced with tension, each syllable heavy with the gravity of the situation.

Felix jerked his head toward the king, whose somber nod pierced through him like a dagger, affirming the grim reality.

"With two Felorans now living within the fortress walls, my people are more on edge than ever, and the last thing I need is for them to turn their ire on you and Hannie, offering you both up as sacrifices on a silver platter."

The gravity of those words crashed down on Felix, a suffocating dread twisting in his gut as he grappled with their implications.

"I'm so sorry, Your Majesty... If I had only known it was I they were seeking—"

"No!" Minho's voice cut through the air like thunder, fierce and unwavering, before softening slightly, though the storm still simmered beneath. "Do not delude yourself into thinking this is your fault or that you could have altered the course of this tragedy. As I told Hannie, you are blind to their true motives beyond mere words. Imagine you surrender yourselves, clinging to the hope that it will spare Levanter, only for them to drain your very essence, wielding your powers against us, launching another assault with the intent to obliterate our entire kingdom. What then? What hollow victory would your sacrifices yield? Nothing! Do not be shackled by a relentless cycle of 'what ifs?' What happened happened, and the only ones to blame are those who invaded our home and took the lives of my people."

Felix exhaled deeply, the weight of defeat heavy on his shoulders, wrestling with the truth that gnawed at him, a part still clinging to the burden of responsibility.

It was becoming clear now how Minho commanded respect among his subjects, a ruler whose keen intellect dissected every situation with surgical precision before rendering judgment. He had never anticipated forging a friendship with the man upon arriving to Levanter. Yet, here he sat, grappling with the undeniable admiration he felt for the king due to his wise words and the way he adored Jisung.

"I must confess, your perseverance on the battlefield was impressive, but I am still troubled that you and Hannie recklessly threw yourselves into such danger with no experience. As your king, however, I must thank you for such selfless actions on behalf of the kingdom," Minho mused aloud, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "He told me how you offered yourself to those vile fiends in his place. While I would never wish such a fate upon anyone, I must acknowledge that your courage might eclipse some of even the most valiant of my warriors. Name anything you desire within my realm, and it shall be yours, Lee Felix of Felora," Minho declared earnestly, his gaze piercing as he awaited Felix's response.

Felix paused, lost in thought, his brow furrowing as he weighed the myriad choices that danced before him like shadows in a flickering firelight. The prospect of liberation from his arranged marriage tempted him like a distant horizon, shimmering with the promise of uncharted territories. The allure of unimaginable wealth beckoned, a siren's call of opulence and luxury. Even the simple joy of having a pet or two crossed his mind, the comfort of companionship wrapped in fur and warmth. Yet, when he spoke, it was with the clarity and sincerity of a star cutting through the night sky. "There's only one thing I desire from you, Your Majesty... Jisung is the dearest thing to me. Whatever your intentions may be, please... make them known sooner rather than later."

He recalled the poor excuses for men that slithered through their homeland like serpents in the tall grass, those who sought Jisung for physical affairs under the cloak of night, their actions hidden behind the thick walls of secrecy. By day, however, those very same people regarded him as a stain, a possible blemish on their pristine reputations, shunning him with the disdain reserved for something unworthy of even the slightest touch. Though Jisung hadn’t acknowledged it, Felix knew that the cruel masquerade of acceptance and rejection eroded his self-worth like waves crashing relentlessly against the shore. Felix often found Jisung seeking solace and attention from those whom the blonde considered unworthy, those who deserved nothing more than a scornful glance or a disdainful spit in the eye.

"If you merely enjoy his company because of the pleasures of the flesh, do tell him now," Felix urged, his voice raw and unguarded, a reflection of the countless nights he had spent with Jisung, listening to his heartache spill forth like a river breaking through a dam. His eyes, filled with an earnest plea, locked onto Minho's deep brown gaze. "And if there is even a part of you that may be willing to give him a chance as something more than a bedwarmer, I implore you to, because he is so, so deserving of love regardless of whatever blood runs through his veins. He is incredibly kind, humorous, caring, and loyal.”

Each word carried the weight of memories and emotions, as vivid as the painted strokes of a master artist capturing the essence of a soul. Felix's voice trembled slightly, like a leaf caught in a gentle breeze, as he laid bare the truth of Jisung's character—a heart as vast as the sky, filled with all things good and a capacity for love as deep as the ocean.

To both of their surprise, the request came out in a voice far rougher and rawer than he intended. The weight of nearly losing Jisung crushed him more than he had anticipated, causing an inkling of emotions to emerge.

Minho's eyes softened slightly, a sad smile twisting his lips with a bittersweet edge. "I apologize in advance, but I must point out your hypocrisy..." he murmured, his words laced with a cryptic edge.

Felix's brows knitted together in confusion, struggling to decipher the meaning behind the comment.

"I hear you were none too thrilled to discover you were wed to a bastard of unknown lineage yourself." The king grinned with a mischievous glint as realization struck the young elf, staining his cheeks with the heat of embarrassment.

"It wasn't about him being a bastard, but rather that we weren't informed beforehand—"

"Had you been informed beforehand, would you have married him?" Minho cut in sharply, raising an eyebrow with a piercing gaze, as though dissecting the elf's sincerity and intentions.

"I mean, my parents would have undoubtedly refused such an arrangement had they known," Felix confessed with a mix of frustration and resignation. "But if—"

"Had you met Hyunjin under entirely different circumstances and fallen madly in love with him, would you have defied your parents in order to marry a man against their prejudices?"

Felix fell silent as Minho watched him, waiting as the music and clamor bobbed in the background, each measure and thundered footfall stretching out the moment.

Felix’s words caught in his throat as if ensnared by an invisible web. Of course, he wouldn't. The revelation hit him like acid searing his tongue, its bitterness spreading through him in an instant: His parents and Hyunjin were different sides of the same tarnished coin. They harbored a deep-seated hatred, disdain, and entrenched prejudices toward others, based on circumstances entirely outside those individuals' control. Their minds were locked, refusing to entertain any alternatives or open doors to understanding. Felix momentarily grappled with the notion that perhaps even he was no better, having spent his life shadowing his parents, obediently heeding their every beck and call, turning a blind eye to the oppressive ways they treated some others. The weight of this understanding settled over him like a heavy shroud, altering his perception irrevocably.

The quiet reverie of the moment was suddenly interrupted by the gentle confession from Minho.

"I love him, Felix... Hannie. I love him," Minho declared with a raw openness that took Felix by surprise. They hadn't known each other long, but the intensity of longing in Minho's eyes spoke louder than words ever could. "In truth, I feel I am unworthy of him. It's an honor just to be in his presence, even for the briefest of moments. It breaks my heart knowing that he has gone through life with the belief that he was somehow lesser, simply because he was conceived from passion rather than duty. I swear it, I will dedicate my life to reminding him how worthy he is of anything and everything his heart desires," Minho whispered with fervent passion, his voice filled with a solemn promise.

Felix was so moved by the declaration that he sat for a long moment, stunned into silence at such vulnerable candor coming from a king.

He felt a flutter in his heart for his friend, a brief moment of tenderness, as he pondered what had transpired between the two behind closed doors to enrapture a man like Minho so completely. Perhaps it was nothing more than Jisung simply being himself—caring, funny, attentive, passionate, loyal, selfless. Felix couldn't help but be swept away by thoughts of what it might be like to receive such unwavering devotion, especially since his own husband only displayed the opposite of love: turmoil and resentment, casting a shadow over what should have been a sanctuary.

Felix cast his gaze over the crowd, meticulously scanning each face until his eyes settled upon the commander. The commander had now shifted partners, gliding seamlessly from one soldier to the next, mingling with the servants as effortlessly as water flowing between stones. The moment Felix spotted the man, an unexpectedly acute pang struck his chest, a sensation so sharp it took him by surprise and eluded his understanding. In that instant, his body betrayed him; his heart pounded thunderously within his chest, each beat crashing against his ribcage like a tempest. The scene before him was spellbinding: Hyunjin's hands rested languidly on the hips of a tall, curvy brunette, her body pressed intimately against his. Their eyes locked, hers dark and half-lidded with intensity, as they swayed in a rhythm that seemed almost sacred.

The entire spectacle filled Felix with an overwhelming sense of revulsion, though the reason for his disgust remained a mystery to him. Beside him, Minho cleared his throat with exaggerated loudness, snapping Felix from his daze. Minho's eyes roved the crowd with a mischievous glint, a smirk tugging at his lips, causing a faint blush to rise on Felix's cheeks as he realized that his resentment might have been more visible than he intended. It wasn't Felix's fault that Levanter traditions revolved around excessive alcohol consumption amid suggestive dancing.

"Jinnie has layered himself with defenses, likely since his birth. His life has not been a simple one. None of our lives have been, but..." Minho's words trailed off, his initial intention left unspoken.

Felix tilted his head slightly, curiosity piqued, and waited for Minho to continue.

However, the king merely chuckled, a gesture that seemed to clear his thoughts. "Scholars might advise you to handle those with similar afflictions to his with gentleness and patience, and they may be correct, but Hyunjin is a more intricate puzzle than likely any scholar has ever encountered... You can attempt to handle him however you wish, but my advice to you— rip through those barriers before he learns to lock you out forever."

For a time, Felix was silent, sifting through the king’s words as if searching for the one grain of insight that would make sense of the tangled web that was Hyunjin.

"And what if ripping through those barriers unleashes dangerous consequences? What if he tries to kill me again in another monstrous rage?" Felix asked, his voice tinged with apprehension as his gaze darted nervously between Minho and the pair twirling gracefully amid the crowd.

Minho let out a deep, weary sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly under the weight of the situation. "Then I grant you permission to defend yourself by any means necessary," he replied, his voice a low murmur, the sincerity of his words underscored by the sadness that momentarily clouded his eyes. The gravity of the moment lingered like a heavy fog, enveloping them both in its somber embrace.

Chapter Text

Felix listened to the king intently before Hyunjin's piercing gaze met his directly. It was clear that the commander was observing with hawk-like precision, as if he could somehow hear the conversation despite the many meters separating them, undoubtedly aware that the topic at hand revolved around him. In that charged moment, Felix realized that perhaps the man was deliberately putting on a show to provoke him and elicit a reaction. And it was certainly effective, for Felix fumed inwardly when Hyunjin's hand dipped provocatively to squeeze the curvy brunette's bottom without breaking their locked eye contact, a devious smirk dancing on his lips.

Felix's grip tightened around the arms of his chair, a silent battle waged within him to resist the urge to rise and confront the infuriating soldier. Yet, despite his best efforts, he found himself standing anyway. He offered Minho a courteous bow before weaving through the throng, reaching out impulsively for a random soldier's hand. To his surprise, it was Changbin who intercepted his hand with enthusiasm, twirling Felix with graceful ease before pulling him in closely, their chests brushing against one another, a firm hand settling at his hip.

"If you're going to poke a dragon, it's best to do it with someone less expendable," Changbin murmured through a feigned smile, his voice low enough that those around remained blissfully unaware of his words.

Felix couldn't suppress a snort, amused that the man had discerned his true intentions. "I wasn't aware dragons discriminated," he retorted, momentarily throwing Changbin off balance before they both chuckled together, their laughter mingling as they began to dance merrily, weaving seamlessly through the lively crowd.

"Well, I am certain that particular dragon won't murder me, but I cannot speak for everyone," Changbin jested lightly, as though the gravity of the situation was mere jest.

Felix, however, felt a twinge of concern at the thought of Hyunjin actually committing such a dire act simply because someone danced with him. A pang of hurt struck Felix, knowing that if such a tragedy ever unfolded, he would bear the weight of responsibility.

"Would he actually—"

"No," Changbin interjected with a mischievous glint in his eyes, a sinister chuckle escaping his lips. "I just love to fuck with him whenever the chance arises, and what better opportunity than this?"

Relief crashed over the blonde elf like a tidal wave, only for them to break into wild laughter together.

"You'd think he wouldn't care, given how handsy he is with that lass," Felix retorted with a mocking scoff, rolling his eyes in exaggerated disdain as Changbin whirled him around with a flourish. He dipped Felix effortlessly, letting a single finger trail slowly down his exposed sternum with a deliberate sensuality, causing a shiver of goosebumps to ripple across Felix's skin.

"Then let me help you fight fire with fire," Changbin grinned wickedly, straightening Felix onto his feet before bringing their faces so close they could feel each other's breath. Felix stood wide-eyed, nerves jangling. "And don't worry, I'm not coming onto you. You're pretty and all, but I'm happily married and don't swing your way," he whispered, his voice a breathy promise.

Felix flushed as he caught on to the scheme, stifling a laugh at Hyunjin’s expense.

"And how would your wife feel about this?" Felix smirked, daringly cheeky as Changbin guided them through the rhythm with perfect precision.

Changbin's grin widened, sharp and knowing. "She knows she's the only one for me," he declared bluntly. "She's here, in fact. We play this game often, and let me tell you, the way she rides after such teasing is unmatched," he confessed with shameless bravado.

Felix wrinkled his nose, caught between mild horror and amusement at the oversharing of Changbin's intimate details, snorting before asking with genuine curiosity, "Where is she?"

"With your husband," Changbin replied with a sly wink to someone behind the elf. Felix turned, his neck twisting to lock eyes with the woman in a seductive red outfit, her smile dripping with devious intent. Her hand slid along the waistband of Hyunjin's trousers with suggestive grace, a sight Felix forced himself to ignore as he turned back to Changbin. Unbeknownst to him, the moment he turned away, the woman spun Hyunjin around, forcing him to witness the elf dancing with her husband, her laughter ringing out as Hyunjin's seething glare bore into them like a storm ready to break.

Felix struggled to suppress the heat blazing across his cheeks, his embarrassment igniting like wildfire after he witnessed such an interaction as a voyeur.

But when he looked at Changbin, whose face was mere inches away, the music surged, and Felix's entire being exploded with exhilaration, seizing control of the dance with fervor. Anything to defiantly stick it to Hyunjin.

He remembered the countless nights he'd stealthily rescue Jisung from drunken misadventures in the seedy underbelly of Felora, only for Jisung to drag him onto a dance floor, swirling around him to demonstrate the art of movement. Determined, Felix expertly attempted to mimic those moves. The beat may have been different, but Felix refused to let it faze him. After all, elves were blessed with exceptional natural coordination.

He twisted within Changbin's grip, pressing his backside fully against the man, and entwined their hands above his head. He swayed his hips with a hypnotic rhythm, lowering himself tantalizingly to the ground before rising again with a deliberate slowness, his eyes locking with Hyunjin's, whose gaze was like a searing laser focused on them. Hyunjin had since switched partners, now pressed intimately against another man whose hands were firmly secured on his chest, yet he remained acutely aware of the scene playing out meters away.

Felix smirked as he rose to his full height, leaning into Changbin's solid chest for support, his hand lightly grasping the back of the man's neck while his hips moved with an electrifying rhythm to the music. His eyes never left the commander's, who seemed rigid and on edge despite the way the man currently had him caged in an embrace. How fascinating, Felix thought.

Hyunjin was both beast and spectator, craving control yet so ill at ease with helplessness that even watching became a torment.

Which was precisely, Felix realized, what made this so delicious.

Felix finally became aware of the intense stares that followed him, a wave of excitement and enthusiastic encouragement rippling through the crowd at the elf's uncharacteristic display. Suddenly, a petite redhead thrust her hand towards him, her cheeks flushed with anticipation. "May I?" she asked, her voice cheerful, eyes wide with eagerness.

Felix's smile broadened as he permitted her to pull him away, stealing a glance at Changbin, who gave a vigorous nod of approval as they swapped partners in the ocean of dancers. With an electrifying energy, Felix danced with the woman, his movements both merry and provocatively enticing. Each partner change was charged with fervor, and if not for the gyrating and exposed skin, he could almost transport himself back to Felora, where the royal balls were a battlefield of attention. The exhilaration of being desired once more surged through him like an electric current.

The night spiraled into chaos as a torrent of strangers pulled him onto the makeshift dance floor, each new face a fleeting blur in a whirlwind of exhilaration. He punctuated the fervor with hearty gulps of ale and rich wines, snatching morsels of chicken that barely registered in his frenzy. Laughter erupted from his throat, raw and unrestrained, as he twirled and spun with a sea of nameless bodies, each dance igniting a fire within him. Yet, amid the raucous joy, a hollow ache lingered—his husband was nowhere to be found, lost in the revelry of others, their laughter ringing more genuine than his own. As the hours slipped away, the atmosphere grew electric, the party morphing into an unhinged spectacle where clothing seemed to vanish, leaving bare skin glistening in the dim light. Felix, emboldened by the concoction of drinks swirling in his belly, had shed only his shoes, teetering on the edge of wild abandon.

During a wildly raucous sing-along song that Felix didn’t know a word of but found irresistibly entertaining, his gaze fell upon Hyunjin. The sight was electrifying. Hyunjin's drenched torso, now clad only in a snug black tank top, seemed to pulse with a magnetic energy. A fierce, thrilling churn ignited deep in Felix's gut, compelling him to wrench his eyes away. Yet, in that charged moment, he couldn't ignore the dryness that overtook his mouth, his breath catching as he absorbed the striking image of Hyunjin.

When Felix next locked eyes on Hyunjin, he noticed a throng of onlookers transfixed by the man. Hyunjin had his arms thrown high, his body shimmering with sweat, belting out tunes with exuberant gusto, and grinding his hips playfully and provocatively against someone standing behind him, clearly intoxicated. A storm of emotions, a mix of jealousy and rage, erupted violently within Felix, his pulse pounding wildly with every scandalous move his husband executed in plain view.

Why this bothered him, he barely understood. If Hyunjin sought thrills elsewhere, that should have been a relief for Felix—he would be spared the eventual unwanted demands of marital obligations. He ought to have been delighted. Yet, no matter how he tried to blame it on the alcohol, he painfully realized his rationality remained unscathed.

But logic be damned, Felix barreled through the crowd with determination, planting himself forcefully at a table near the spectacle, among others indulging in sweets and chatter. His eyes shot daggers of pure fury towards Hyunjin, unaware of the intensity with which he glared, before slicing through a piece of cake and aggressively stuffing a bite into his mouth.

Hyunjin finally turned his gaze, as if feeling the scorching heat of Felix's pure irritation, and smirked when their eyes met, his expression a challenge that stoked the raging inferno in Felix's chest. Rage consumed him as Hyunjin sauntered over, each step deliberately slow, before plopping down in the empty seat on the other side of the table directly across from Felix with an air of casual defiance.

"Sweet tooth?" Hyunjin drawled lazily, his face a mask of mockery as he sprawled in the chair, completely at ease.

Felix forced down his mouthful with a harsh swallow, dabbing his lips with precise, controlled movements, trying to maintain composure.

Hyunjin elbowed the soldier beside him with a mischievous grin stretching from ear to ear. "Isn't my husband so pretty?" he jeered over the music, each word a probing taunt that made Felix's muscles coil with tension, unsure of the trap Hyunjin was setting.

The soldier roared with laughter, the sound grating and obnoxious as he glanced between Felix and Hyunjin, chugging ale with reckless abandon. "And here I thought hell would freeze over before you fucked with an elf," the man bellowed, his laughter a piercing cackle that Hyunjin matched, leaning heavily against his comrade, both caught in a fit of uncontrollable mirth over a joke that didn't exist. There was nothing funny, only a cruel jest.

Hyunjin's laugh clashed sharply with his usual demeanor: it was a piercing, high-pitched falsetto that radiated warmth and melody. Felix didn't detest it. In truth, if it hadn't been directed at his expense, he might have confessed a fondness for it.

Felix could not stop himself from committing an act of sheer recklessness. His bare foot stealthily moved under the table, making contact with Hyunjin's ankle. It pressed gently, then began a torturously slow ascent upward with unwavering intent. The commander had clearly not anticipated this bold move, his smile wavering momentarily in shock before he scrambled to dive back into their banter, desperately pretending nothing unusual was unfolding beneath the table. But when Felix's foot boldly reached Hyunjin's inner thigh, the commander's entire body stiffened with an involuntary jolt, drawing curious and questioning glances from those seated around them.

"Drank too much," he chuckled, the sound hollow and unconvincing, a thin veneer over the storm brewing beneath. The people around him, lost in their own drunken haze, failed to notice the tension crackling in the air. Felix took another deliberate bite of his sweet, indulgent treat while tracing purposeful, teasing circles over Hyunjin's clothed upper thigh, as if this bold act was the most natural thing in the world. Inwardly, he smirked with a smug satisfaction as Hyunjin's grip tightened around his cup, knuckles blanching, Adam's apple bobbing like a buoy in a storm-tossed sea as he fought to maintain a façade of calm.

"Is everything okay, dear?" Felix drawled, his voice a silky trap, eyes locking with Hyunjin's. The annoyance simmered in Hyunjin's gaze, a stark contrast to Felix's maddeningly serene demeanor. The internal chaos was a tempest, visible in the tension coiling through Hyunjin's body. He sat there, legs spread wide, allowing the touch, yet every muscle screamed with the effort to suppress his reaction. But it was futile; Felix felt every involuntary twitch, relishing the control he wielded over someone so formidable.

With a calculated move, Felix slid his chair closer, never breaking the electric contact. He pressed his foot firmly into Hyunjin's groin, igniting an immediate, visceral response. Hyunjin's eyes darted away, widening in alarm before narrowing into a storm of frustration. His jaw clenched, nostrils flaring with the effort to restrain himself, his breath hitching in a nearly imperceptible gasp. Felix savored the taste of Hyunjin's mounting frustration, thrilling at the power play unfolding beneath the table.

Felix couldn't contain the electrifying thrill coursing through him as he watched the most formidable military commander writhe helplessly under his control. The stakes were higher this time, with the risk of exposure looming perilously close, amplifying the danger and sending Felix's adrenaline into overdrive. The rush of power and pleasure flooded him, and despite the voice of reason screaming for restraint, Felix was far too intoxicated by the moment to stop.

He increased the pressure on the man's cock and scrotum, drawing out a stifled gasp that only Felix could hear. The sound, a soft symphony of submission, brought an immediate smirk to his lips, fueling a deep-seated satisfaction at the control he wielded over the powerful figure before him. The thrill of dominance coiled within him, a tight knot of anticipation and exhilaration. Was it the heat emanating from the pulsating mass beneath his foot, or the intoxicating delight of publicly humiliating the commander? Felix couldn't decipher, nor did he care. His sole focus was on seeing Hyunjin's face, twisted in desperation once more.

When Hyunjin's eyes finally met his, Felix's gaze was a taunt wrapped in allure. He dipped a finger into the cream atop the cake slice before him, slipping the sweet-coated digit between his lips with a deliberate slowness. Simultaneously, he dragged his foot along the man's length with firm insistence, maintaining unwavering eye contact. The intensity of Felix's actions sent a shiver skittering visibly from the man's toes to his neck, a ripple of electricity that charged through his entire body, leaving him trembling under Felix's unyielding dominion.

"Did you not hear me, love? Is everything alright?" Felix asked with a voice dripping with feigned concern, his long, golden eyelashes fluttering deliberately like a slow, mesmerizing dance.

Hyunjin swallowed hard, his throat constricting as he whispered, "Just peachy." The words trembled on his lips, betraying his struggle for composure. Felix could see the fierce battle within him, the way he sucked in deep breaths and clenched his cup, trying desperately to mask the turmoil beneath.

But Hyunjin's feeble attempt at nonchalance only ignited a more daring idea in Felix. With a wicked grin, he reached for a basket of fruit, selecting an exquisitely ripe peach. As he bit into it, the juices exploded, cascading down his chin and onto his bare chest, glistening like liquid gold. He reclined leisurely, allowing the sticky nectar to trail provocatively, a shameless display that dripped with seduction.

"Oh heavens, I'm so messy..." he purred, his voice a silky caress, eyes smoldering as they locked onto Hyunjin's. With a swift, deliberate motion, he unclasped the single button on his vest, letting it fall open just enough to reveal a tantalizing amount of skin—a nipple peeking out like a forbidden secret. He bit into the peach slice again, ensuring a cascade of juice flowed down his chest, a syrupy river of temptation. Sighing with a sultry delight, he tilted his head back, arching his back with a feline grace, his hand tracing teasingly over his sternum. Finally, with a delicate touch, he picked up a napkin, dabbing tenderly at the sticky trail, an act both innocent and intoxicatingly suggestive.

The soldiers around him erupted into raucous laughter, their bodies jostling against each other as if caught in a storm of shared amusement, perhaps mocking or exalting their commander. But Felix remained unfazed, his mind steeled against their mirth. He knew that once sobriety settled in, he'd likely be haunted by regret for such a brazen spectacle in front of onlookers. Yet at this moment, the act filled him with a fierce satisfaction that overshadowed any lingering sense of shame.

He flung the napkin aside with a dismissive flick, his attention laser-focused on the exquisite torment of moving his foot up and down the man's straining member with a tantalizingly slow and unyielding pressure. He scrutinized every twitch and shudder of the man's body, noting how his eyelids fluttered with an almost desperate rapidity when Felix honed in on the tip for a few excruciating moments. The man's throat bobbed violently as he gulped, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips in an unconscious display of need, studiously avoiding eye contact but only deepening his own torment by letting his gaze linger on Felix’s bare chest. Felix caught every subtle movement, even the involuntary roll of the man's hips as he sought more friction against his sole, likely unaware of the betrayal of his own desires.

Felix vividly remembered the unrestrained sounds the commander had made when caught in the throes of pleasure from a handjob, his voice rising in uninhibited, melodic moans, whimpers, and shameless mewls. He knew Hyunjin was waging an internal battle, trying desperately to keep silent. But then, Felix massaged a particularly sensitive spot on the underside, and an involuntary whine rumbled in Hyunjin's throat, low and raw, just beneath the din of the rowdy music, yet unmistakable to Felix's keen ears.

Hyunjin jolted, startled by his own loss of control, his eyes darting around with urgency, scanning the room for any sign that their secret had been discovered. Miraculously, everyone remained oblivious, wrapped in their own worlds. With a pointed clearing of his throat, Hyunjin pushed away from the table abruptly, his movements sharp and swift as he stood, obstructing the view of his lap with both hands, and retreated, mumbling something about fatigue, clearly needing to escape to the refuge of solitude, presumably to his bed where he could grapple with the tumult within.

The chances of that happening were slim to none, considering how riled up he was. The very thought of satisfying Hyunjin with his bare hands once more sent an electrifying shiver down Felix's spine. The blonde was far from ready to end this thrilling game, even if its rules had become a blur.

He moved to follow his husband, only to be abruptly halted by Jeongin, who stepped in his path with a wide grin, appearing just as intoxicated as everyone else.

"Felix! I never truly got to thank you for your all of your help this week! You're quite skilled in medicine, you know?" Jeongin's voice cut through the clamor, filled with genuine admiration.

Felix blinked, caught off guard, desperately trying to focus on Jeongin despite his eyes darting anxiously beyond. "Uh... thank you."

Jeongin's eyes sparkled with excitement as he giggled with uncontainable glee. "Now that we're not in a professional or dire situation, I feel compelled to tell you that Seungmin and I have reconciled."

Felix couldn't suppress a chuckle, charmed by Jeongin's radiant happiness, although his gaze repeatedly sought out Hyunjin, only to find him vanished from sight.

"How is Jisung holding up? I'll visit him tomorrow after the inevitable hangover to make sure he's still comfortable," Jeongin queried with sincere concern.

Felix's heart sank at the missed chance with Hyunjin, but he spoke the truth regardless. "He's okay. Minho has taken such good care of him. He hardly needs me anymore," Felix admitted with an exaggerated pout that drew another joyous laugh from Jeongin.

"Perhaps that's for the best. What better way to solidify an alliance than with not one marriage but two?" Jeongin chimed with exuberant delight.

Felix's throat tightened at the statement, but he forced himself to maintain his composure. The idea of Jisung being used for an alliance was absurd, considering his lowly status in Felora. "Maybe they should properly court each other before we start planning a wedding," Felix quipped, a sharp edge to his humor.

Jeongin nodded, his laughter tinged with a hint of nervousness. "Right. We don't need any more couples trying to kill each other," he chuckled awkwardly, a faint blush of embarrassment creeping up before he swiftly changed the subject. "You seem… different. More lively."

A dark smirk curled Felix's lips at the remark. "Well, since my arrival, I was almost devoured by a dragon, nearly slain by my own husband, battled in a war, and killed people. I suppose you could say I'm a changed man," he replied with a grim jest, the memory of plunging a blade into someone still vivid and fresh in his mind. “I’ve also had a lot of wine,” he added with a sheepish shrug.

Jeongin burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, appearing thoroughly amused by the elf’s sense of humor. "I must return to my chambers. Duty calls—by which I mean sleep, and absolutely nothing else," he declared with an impish grin.

He suddenly wrapped Felix in a quick, clumsy, drunken embrace, his affection palpable despite his unsteady movements. With a lingering, soft smile, he turned sharply on his heel, striding purposefully in the opposite direction.

A warmth spread through Felix as he realized that the once-timid doctor, who had seemed frightened of him, now apparently regarded him as a friend. After all, Felix had saved Hyunjin's life, and it was evident that Jeongin cared deeply for the commander. Felix figured that Jeongin and Hyunjin were, technically, brothers-in-law—and by extension, that made him one too. The possibility of forming real friendships here filled the elf with a sense of comfort.

Finally liberated and shamefully desperate, Felix surged out of the hall, his legs propelling him into one of the shadowy corridors. He charged up two flights of the grand staircase, his feet stumbling clumsily as if his body were a marionette controlled by the twin puppeteers of exhaustion and alcohol. He plunged into the cavernous corridors, vast and daunting, each one more disorienting than the last. It dawned on him with a jolt that he had likely veered off course at some point. He spun around abruptly, the world tilting dangerously as his head whirled, forcing him to slam against the cold, unyielding wall for support.

Suddenly, a voice pierced the silence, echoing from further down the hallway, originating from the window nook just out of sight. His curiosity piqued, his nosiness conquering his manners, and he approached with caution, each step deliberate and silent, ears straining to catch every urgent mutter. As the hushed tones unfolded, his heart raced; it wasn’t just one voice, but two. Two incredibly familiar voices that had no logical business to be mingling in the shadows together.

Chapter Text

“No! No! No! Please, not here! Someone will see! Stop! I beg of you—“

Each frantic whimper was more desperate and bitten-off than the last, like a trapped animal.

“Shut up and hold still—“

“Sir, please! Please, not here! I don’t want—“

“Don’t you remember, the less you fight, the less it hurts—“

“—Please, stop it! I'll do anything you want, but not here… please, you can have me, just not—” Hyunjin's unmistakable voice pleaded in a broken sob, their desperation hanging in the air like a storm about to break. The sound of clothing rustling filled the air, a frantic wrestling, hands being smacked away repeatedly in a chaotic struggle. Swearing threats cut through the noise like jagged knives, amplifying the tension to a fever pitch.

Felix's stomach churned violently at the horrifying implications of those exchanges, propelling him into a frantic sprint toward the voices. He skidded to a halt in the entryway of the alcove, heart pounding in his chest, never before experiencing such a visceral shock. Hyunjin was pinned, his body crushed against the cold, unyielding stone wall, his face a chaotic mess of blotchy tears. His cheek was smeared against the stone, his mouth smothered by a sweaty palm, as a middle-aged man loomed menacingly behind him. The man's other hand wrestled with Hyunjin's pants, his intentions all too clear, while Hyunjin fought back desperately. He kicked back with a futile determination, his fingers clawing weakly at the much larger hands clamped over his lips, silencing any cries.

The assailant remained oblivious to the elf standing petrified in the center of the corridor. The man had managed to yank Hyunjin's pants past his hips, frantically working at his undergarments. But Hyunjin became sharply aware of Felix's presence from his peripheral, and with a surge of desperate defiance, he bit down hard on the hand pressed against his mouth. The taste of blood flooded his senses as the perpetrator howled and cursed in agony.

“Felix! Go!” Hyunjin screamed with frantic urgency, seizing the momentary reprieve as the hand was torn away. Yet Felix couldn't move, trapped in a nightmare, as the man peered around, his cruel grin stretching across his weathered face, having finally sensed Felix's presence.

The most gut-wrenching part was the instant recognition. Felix knew this man—a highly esteemed Feloran knight, a fixture in his life. He had been a trusted member of the entourage that accompanied Felix to Levanter, one of his parents' most loyal and favored guards. This man had been a constant presence since Felix's birth, even joining his family as security on several journeys. It was a treachery that Felix couldn't fathom.

"Sir Augustus…" The words tasted vile in Felix's mouth, bile rising at the thought of this man committing such a heinous act against another living being. This man, now meant to be an ally to Hyunjin's army, stood audaciously trying to assault him in the secluded shadows of a damned hallway. Felix had known the man since childhood, always believing him to be kind, steadfastly committed to his duties, and maintaining a professional demeanor. But now, this revelation was terrifying. It was gut-wrenching. It tore at his very soul.

"My prince," the man taunted, bowing his head with a mockery of sincerity. "Let's keep this between us, shall we? A little secret among the elite," he proposed, his eyes glinting with a menacing gleam.

Hyunjin was frozen, gasping through sobs, as if ensnared by a sinister spell, his eyes wild and pleading, locked onto Felix, wordlessly begging him to flee.

Yet Felix stood rooted to the spot, every fiber of his being screaming to escape, but unable to move.

"What are you—" Felix managed to choke out before the man interrupted once more.

"To be frank, my arrangement with your new consort concluded long ago, before you were aware of his existence, I’m sure, when he outgrew my… preferences. But when I jested with the comrade tonight about having my turn with you, prince, now that we are beyond the reach and restrictions of Feloran law, well, the desperation in his pleas was a nostalgic call to the good ol’ days," the older man cackled darkly, his gaze hungrily devouring Hyunjin.

Hyunjin stormed down the dim corridor, each step charged with frustration as he sought refuge in his personal sanctuary that few knew of— his atelier—desperate to escape and clear his mind. The image of the elf haunted him—how impossibly beautiful he looked tonight, how his every movement was a seductive spell, how brazenly he had teased Hyunjin in public, igniting an inferno of desire within him, and most maddeningly, how his stomach twisted into knots every single time Felix flashed that radiant smile and laughed. He was utterly lost in this battle, his equal had been found, and he knew it all too well.

In his mind, he clung to the hope that a furious explosion of paint on canvas might soothe his turmoil. He grimaced, adjusting himself through his trousers, when a low whistle sliced through the silence behind him. Instantly, he froze, the air growing unnaturally still around him. His senses sharpened, every nerve on high alert, ready for whatever came next.

"My my, how you’ve grown!" boomed a deep, menacing voice dripping with false charm, echoing ominously through the stone tunnel. Hyunjin froze, his blood turning to ice at the sound he dreaded more than anything. That voice was a nightmare he never wanted to relive, its very tone igniting a violent urge to break through stone with his bare hands. With the new alliance, a shadow of fear loomed over him, knowing he might one day have to cross paths with this bastard again, if fate was cruel enough to keep him breathing.

And fate was a fickle, heartless bitch.

Hyunjin whirled around, eyes blazing with fury, his lip curling into a snarl as he faced an aging knight, who grinned with a devilish glee, advancing slowly like a predator savoring the thrill of the hunt. Sir Jang Augustus. If sheer looks could kill, the knight would be buried six feet under by now.

A surge of fear coursed through Hyunjin's veins, igniting every nerve. He stood alone against this formidable figure, a man encased in armor, while he was vulnerable, unarmed, and intoxicated. His heart pounded with a mix of dread and anger, cursing himself for feeling fear, for being caught off guard. But no armor or weapon was needed—he told himself he could crush this man with his bare hands. He was no longer a boy; he was now stronger, sharper, and the damn Commander of the Levanter forces.

The knight chuckled, his eyes lingering provocatively on the bulge in Hyunjin's pants, taunting him with blatant mockery. "Grown, indeed." His voice dripped with lewd insinuation.

Hyunjin drew a sharp breath, his jaw tightening as he stood taller, refusing to shield himself. He had to project strength. Showing fear would only stoke the pervert’s twisted desires, spurring him further.

“You’ve got ten seconds to get out of my sight before I throw you from the highest fucking window in the castle,” Hyunjin declared, his voice cold and steady, fists clenched with lethal intent, ready to unleash fury if defied.

The older man seemed unfazed, his smile disturbingly affectionate.

“Oh, child—”

"I’m not a fucking child," Hyunjin spat, his eyes blazing with defiance.

Augustus dismissed the comment with a cold chuckle. "Do not fret, child. I'm not here for you. It's your new husband I'm interested in—the prince. Back home, he was untouchable, a forbidden fruit. But here... so far from prying eyes, he seems ripe for the plucking. You haven't stretched him out too much yet, have you?" Sir Augustus taunted, his words dripping with malice.

"I’ll fucking rip your throat out, you sick son of a bitch!” Hyunjin roared, losing all semblance of control. He lunged forward, intent on turning the knight into nothing more than a crimson smear on the castle floor. In his mind, he had already killed the bastard, crushing every bone in his body to dust with his bare hands, starting with his skull.

But a mere gesture from Augustus, a simple raised palm, summoned an invisible force that froze Hyunjin in place. His lungs burned for air as he found himself trapped in a state of suspended agony, his body immobilized.

Hyunjin's teeth were bared in a feral snarl, his arms trembling with the effort to break free. "I’ll fucking kill you!" he bellowed, the threat rumbling from his chest like a storm ready to unleash its fury.

"No, you won’t," the knight replied, his tone casual and infuriatingly calm.

He approached with deliberate slowness, peeling off his leather gloves with a methodical precision that made Hyunjin's stomach churn in revulsion. His eyes shone with a malicious intent that was impossible to ignore.

"If you had the power, I would have been ashes long ago," he tutted quietly. "But we both know how powerless you are. Should I not return home, His and Her Majesty will suspect foul play. And who do you think they'll suspect first? The alliance will crumble, and the deceitful King Lee Minho of Levanter will face the wrath of Felora's entire might."

Hyunjin panted through his nose, hatred searing through him like wildfire. He could do nothing but glare, his body unyielding except for the rapid blinking of his eyes. "You think they give a shit about one measly knight enough to start a war? You really think you're worth that much?" Hyunjin scoffed, his voice laced with bitter scorn.

The man let out a sinister chuckle. "Of course not. But their pride and joy, their only son, most certainly is. And I just so happen to possess a wicked talent for framing others for any deeds I choose."

Hyunjin's face turned ashen, all color fleeing as his stomach convulsed with violent waves of nausea and dread. The man before him was clearly threatening Minho if he did not allow him to have his way with Felix. It was a nightmare Hyunjin couldn’t bear. The mere thought of losing Minho, his brother, was unthinkable. But Felix... oh, Felix. As much as Hyunjin longed to escape the shackles of his arranged marriage, to pretend it had never happened and return to his solitary life, free from sharing his bed and his space with a man he didn't fully trust, he refused to let Felix be violated in such a vile manner. Felix was innocent. Annoying, yes, but also kind. A fiery spirit, yet gentle and tender. The fact that Felix hadn't yet taken a swing directly at Hyunjin's face, not even once, showed a well of patience that Hyunjin envied with a burning intensity. The blonde elf, with a smile that could eclipse the sun itself, had done more for Hyunjin in his desperate moments than he deserved. The fire raging inside Hyunjin mixed hatred for the knight with loathing for himself, a volatile, self-destructive cocktail of fury that threatened to consume him whole.

With a feral roar, Hyunjin erupted into a frenzy, thrashing violently against his restraints, his screams echoing like those of an enraged beast trapped in a cage too small to contain its fury. Consequences be damned. The worst part was the agonizing helplessness, a fact he was painfully aware of. Tears of raw, unbridled rage burned in his eyes as he fought with every ounce of strength to break free.

"Give it up, kid. You were never strong enough, and you never will be." The man taunted, standing just a few steps away from his frozen prey, watching him with a cold patience while leaning casually against the stone wall.

Hyunjin knew the bitter truth of those words, and it ignited a deeper hatred within him. Sir Augustus was right. There was absolutely nothing he could do, trapped as he was, his heart pounding like a war drum in his ears. He was weak. Useless. Worthless. A failure.

"What say you? Lead me to the prince, and I shall spare your king the stain of such heinous crimes and treachery. Fear not, I would never harm the boy—I adore him. I merely crave a taste. He's yours afterward. Perhaps if you ask nicely, I'll even let you watch," the older man offered, his grin stretching wide like a predator closing in on its prey.

A choked sob tore from Hyunjin's throat as the man's fingers brushed along his jaw, trailing down his neck with a touch that was both gentle and terrifying. A storm of emotions raged within him, each more overwhelming than the last.

"Please don't... Don't do this," he pleaded, his voice breaking into a whisper barely audible. It was the first time in years he had begged for mercy. The act felt filthy, degrading, but terror flooded his veins, and his resolve crumbled like sand slipping through fingers.

Suddenly, the man released him from the invisible grip that had held him captive. Hyunjin nearly collapsed, disbelief washing over him as he staggered backward, gasping for air. He clung to the wall behind him, struggling to stay upright, his sobs echoing in the air as his heart pounded like a war drum in his chest.

The man folded his hands behind his back, leaning in with an ominous calm. "Lead me to the prince. Now."

Hyunjin swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut. "No." The word slipped out, weak and trembling. "Take me." It was barely more than a whisper, a desperate sacrifice to protect and preserve peace.

"Pardon?" Augustus demanded, eyes narrowing in disbelief as if Hyunjin had uttered some absurd jest.

Hyunjin's eyes, dark and overflowing with raw anguish, drilled into the older man's gaze, his voice cutting through the air with an edge of desperation.

"Take me. Take me to bed. I'll do anything you want. Anything. But leave him alone. He doesn't deserve it. Leave him be. Forever. Please..." His voice faltered, a wretched tremor betraying his inner turmoil, disgust twisting in his gut like a venomous serpent. "I'll do whatever you want. Please let me do this. Not him. I beg of you..." His plea was a broken symphony of shame, coiling thick like smoke in his belly, each word punctuated by pathetic hiccups as his chest rose and fell, his vision swimming in a sea of tears.

Sir Augustus’ lips curled into a delighted, predatory smile, his eyes alight with a sinister amusement and twisted fascination, reveling in this unexpected turn. "Perhaps... you truly haven't grown at all, boy," he murmured with sinister amusement, his gaze devouring Hyunjin hungrily, enthralled by the sight of the formidable commander brought low by desperation.

Hyunjin's shoulders caved in, heavy with the weight of resignation, his spirit crushed beneath the heel of defeat, any flicker of resistance snuffed out. But as the man seized him by the neck and yanked him into a shadowed alcove, hidden from the eyes of the world, panic ignited within him like wildfire. He fought back with a desperate futility, terror clawing at his insides as he struggled in vain.

“No! No! No! Please not here! Someone will see! Stop! I beg of you—“

“Shut up and hold still—“

“Sir, please! Please not here! I don’t wan—“

“You know the less you fight, the less it hurts—“

“—Please, stop it, I do anything you want but not here… please, you can have me just not—” A hand clamped over his mouth and Hyunjin was reduced to a pleading wreck, chest pressed fully against cold, rough stone, tears streaming down his cheeks as the memories—the fucking memories—clawed up his throat in some sick, echoing chant.

How far the mighty had fallen. The man who once rode a dragon into battle, scorching armies to ashes, now stood gasping for air in ragged breaths, cheeks flushed crimson and swollen from tears, his face twisted in sheer panic—a sight that drove a dagger deep into Felix's heart. The once fearsome commander was now a pitiful, exposed shadow of himself.

“In truth, I had been seeking bitty orphan ward, but your dear husband here... what an insatiable young boy he was, throwing himself at me the moment I entered the tent. But our dalliance ended so, so many moons ago. Yet, tonight, when I saw that familiar desperation in those pretty brown eyes once again, I thought, why not indulge one last time?” the man explained, his voice dripping with malice.

Rage, hotter than dragon fire, surged violently within Felix, his heart pounding in his chest so fiercely it threatened to break him.

“From one Feloran to another, my kin, what say you? Shall we together put this filthy mutt in his place? Show him that in Felora, we bow only to our blood?” the man pressed arrogantly, as if his heritage made him superior, as if he could ever belittle someone as fierce as Hyunjin just because he wasn't of their kind. Even Hyunjin, with all his vices, had never once sought to harm Felix in such a vile manner as this man was proposing.

The man's words left Felix frozen, his stomach churning as he struggled to process the venomous proposal.

“Felix,” Hyunjin called softly, his voice breaking into a cry of pain as the man suddenly shoved him to the floor, forcing him onto his belly and attempting to raise his hips to violate him.

That jolted Felix from his shock, unleashing the fury within.

An unexpected explosion of adrenaline coursed through him like wildfire, igniting every nerve until he saw nothing but red rage. With a primal roar, he lunged forward, seizing a fistful of the older man's hair with a grip as unyielding as iron, yanking backward with such savage force that blood oozed from the man's scalp. Felix's fist rose, a vessel of pure fury ready to unleash hell on this contemptible bastard. But in an instant, the man's palm shot up, discharging a crackling bolt of lightning that slammed into Felix's chest like a battering ram, catapulting him across the space to crash against the opposite wall with bone-jarring intensity.

For an agonizing second, darkness enveloped him, only to be shattered by an explosion of stars. As the dizzying spots faded, the first thing he registered was Hyunjin's face—etched with terror, not for himself, but for Felix. Regardless of their tumultuous time together, seeing such fear twist the usually confident features of his spouse filled Felix with seething hatred.

"Felix! Stop! Run!" Hyunjin's voice shattered the pandemonium, desperate and raw, as he ceased his futile resistance against the man whose eyes blazed with a vengeful inferno, poised to strike once more. "Please! Don’t! Don’t hurt him! I will do anything! Please don't—don't—" Hyunjin begged with a voice breaking under the crushing weight of his desperation, his mind spiraling at the mere thought of Felix being struck again.

But Felix's body was a storm of defiance, refusing the instinct to flee. He staggered to his feet, muscles screaming in protest, a fierce emerald glow igniting in his eyes, defying the pain that throbbed viciously in his side and head.

"Felix, please! Stop!" Hyunjin's cry was a desperate echo in the charged air.

The man glared with murderous intent, electricity sparking menacingly in his palm, his stance a silent challenge to Felix, daring him to come closer, daring him to defy fate itself.

"You will release the commander and leave this place at once, never to return," Felix's voice thundered, a calm baritone that carried an undercurrent of lethal command. A surge of raw energy coursed through his veins, and the air around them ignited with a blistering heat, as if the noonday sun bore directly down upon them.

The man laughed darkly, a sinister chuckle that echoed like a death knell, spitting contemptuously on the commander beneath him. He shook his head, dripping with condescension, as his eyes locked challengingly with Felix's.

"And here, I thought you were smarter than this. Your persuasion powers do not work on me, young prince," the man taunted, a cruel smirk twisting his lips while Hyunjin struggled for breath, choking on a mix of mucus and tears beneath the man's oppressive weight from where the man’s boot ground into his back.

"You are mistaken. I am not attempting to persuade you through magic. I am commanding you," Felix retorted, his voice cold and cutting like a blade of ice. "Surrender now, and I might consider overlooking this treachery and let you walk away... albeit castrated."

The man gaped in pure disgust, his eyes blazing with contempt. “You dare threaten me over this wretched, uncivilized savage freak of nature?!” he bellowed furiously. With a brutal, deliberate motion, he lifted his foot and harshly slammed his boot down onto the commander's spine, a vicious act that wrung a painful cry from Hyunjin. This sound awakened something primal and fierce within Felix, something he couldn't quite identify. A wave of red fury washed over him, every hair on his body standing on end, as if charged with electricity, while a scorching heat radiated from his core. Felix shut his eyes momentarily, letting his seething anger fuel the inevitable storm within.

“One last chance," Felix whispered, his voice deceptively calm, though the air around him seemed to thicken with tension.

Hyunjin, beneath the crushing weight, began to hyperventilate, his eyes wide and fixed on Felix, silently pleading. Tears streamed down his flushed cheeks, and thick mucus and drool dribbled from his nose and mouth, a testament to the agony.

"Stop, Felix. Please...You can’t win," Hyunjin sobbed, his voice a trembling prayer to any higher power that Felix wouldn't get killed trying to shoulder his burdens.

The man snorted, a sound dripping with mockery. “Do you not remember, boy? It was I you ran to, sobbing, when you killed a butterfly as a child. Do you truly believe your feeble attempts at intimidation will shake me? You are a frail flower, untrained and untempered. You are incapable of—”

Felix raised his palm, his fingers splayed wide as he gritted his teeth, feeling the raw power surge through his veins like a tidal wave. Green embers of magic crackled and danced, flaring to life from his fingertips, cascading through the air toward the man standing opposite him. At the same moment, the elder unleashed his own mystical energy, another crackling bolt that rocketed outward with incredible intensity. The two forces collided in the air, meeting in a dazzling explosion of light and energy, each vying for dominance in the charged atmosphere.

The resulting flash blinded them all, a searing white void that scalded Felix’s retinas and battered his eardrums but both elves held their ground, each locked in a struggle where defeat meant obliteration. The air sang with crackling outrage, the invisible pressure building with every heartbeat until Felix’s insides were close to bursting. He realized, dimly, that he was screaming, his own voice a raw and animal howl, but his mind had gone white.

Memories flood in like a raging torrent: Hyunjin's elusive smile lighting up the dreamscape beach. The exhilaration of watching the man ride atop his dragon, soaring as if they ruled the skies. The small grumbles and growls Hyunjin released in his sleep, a juxtaposition to his daytime persona, echo in Felix's mind. The tear that slipped silently from Hyunjin's eye at the mere thought of being resented by his eldest brother, the desperate grip he kept on his younger brother in the infirmary, the uproarious laughter that erupted when Felix toppled onto him in the bathtub.

Then, more memories crashed in like waves, these far more foreign yet vivid— crouching, wild-eyed and snarling beneath a table, while a young Lee Minho, unmistakable even then, tried to coax him out with food and soothing words. The soft, mournful song he sang to an elderly soldier as his life bled away before his blurred, tear-filled eyes. The fierce, joyful struggle against a bear hug from several boys, whose faces were recognizable even though they were strangers to him then.

These memories were not his own, and yet every emotion wound seamlessly into his soul as if they had always belonged there.

It amplified his resolve, fueling the maelstrom within. Felix drew upon every ounce of power, not only his own but the echoes of every memory, every kindness, every anguish that had shaped Hyunjin and himself alike. He felt himself unspooling, a thin thread between worlds—every cell of his body alight, and yet utterly singular in its purpose.

He bellowed with a primal fury, and the green fire in his palm surged with an unrestrained ferocity, raw and relentless, as if Felix's form was merely a conduit for millennia of unquenched wrath. The energy erupted outward, a vicious, crackling emerald lash that struck Sir Augustus dead in the chest with such a furious velocity that it rendered his armor useless as the man's eyes were violently ejected from their sockets in a grotesque burst of blood and viscous matter.

Felix was relentless, the furious green maelstrom consuming the man completely. Sir Augustus couldn't even utter a sound—his final breath vanished before he could grasp the enormity of his fate. Then came the gut-wrenching crunch of bones shattering, reverberating through the air as Sir Augustus was annihilated, his entire body detonating in a gruesome explosion, fragments of bone and viscera spraying the walls and floor. The air was thick with the stench of death, as flesh dripped grotesquely from the ceiling. Blood showered the vicinity, drenching Felix and Hyunjin in a gruesome coat of crimson and shards of skin.

Felix's eyes snapped back to their original brown and gold, his gaze fixed on his trembling, quivering palm in utter bewilderment. He blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of the chaos, before turning his attention to Hyunjin. Hyunjin was frozen, utterly traumatized and horrified, whether from witnessing a man explode or from the harrowing events leading up to it. His eyes were wide with shock, his features quivering violently, lips trembling uncontrollably, as he lay there, paralyzed, his mind a whirlwind of confusion and fear, desperate to grasp what had just transpired.

Felix acted on impulse, racing over with no hesitation. He fell to his knees and hastily pulled Hyunjin's pants up for modesty, before spinning him around and enveloping him in a fierce embrace. He didn’t fully understand why he did it, but in that moment, it felt like the only option that made any sense. Hyunjin, contrary to Felix's expectations, didn't recoil. Instead, he seemed trapped in a paralyzing daze, only to suddenly clutch Felix with a desperate intensity. He buried his face into Felix's neck, unleashing the most visceral, gut-wrenching sobs that ricocheted through the empty corridor like a haunting wail. Felix tightened his hold on the commander, pressing his temple against Hyunjin's head, his hand moving in comforting strokes down Hyunjin's back. Tears streamed uncontrollably from his own eyes, flowing in response to the overwhelming sorrow of a man usually so proud and resolute, now shattered and vulnerable.

"I didn’t throw myself at him, I swear!” Hyunjin's voice shattered like glass, desperation clawing at his words, as if Felix's belief was his last lifeline, even now when it seemed beyond repair.

"I know," Felix whispered, his voice choked with tears. He believed him with every fiber of his being. Children didn't willingly run into the arms of monsters. Felix could easily decipher the sinister subtext. The man had left no room for doubt, revealing his vile, depraved desires with chilling transparency, making it blatant that Hyunjin had been just a boy, one ensnared in a nightmare of unspeakable horror. For someone to be violated so horrifically by an individual revered in Felix's homeland ignited a fierce fire within him. It made him almost desperate enough to storm back home that very night, fueled by unyielding rage, ready to interrogate each and every soldier with unrelenting intensity regarding such matters.

His hands moved rhythmically over Hyunjin's back, attempting to calm the storm within.

“Mother brought us along for negotiations. He snuck into our camp one night, into my tent. It was only Seungmin, Jeongin, and me. I woke up and saw him watching Innie sleep and… I couldn’t— I couldn’t—“ The words dissolved into heart-wrenching sobs, his entire body convulsing with the force of his grief, clutching onto Felix as if he were the only solid thing in a collapsing world.

Felix was overwhelmed with uncontrollable sobs, echoing Hyunjin's own cries at the gut-wrenching confession. The horrific mental image of such vile crimes inflicted upon an innocent boy while his family lay present yet obliviously unconscious tore at his heart. The weight of despair only deepened as the realization crashed down on him—Hyunjin had endured this nightmare, sacrificing himself to shield young Jeongin from such terror.

“He was just a kid!” Hyunjin cried out with a raw, desperate intensity, his voice cracking as a torrent of tears soaked Felix's clothing, leaving his shoulders damp and heavy.

“As were you,” Felix whispered with a quiet firmness, gripping the taller man fiercely as Hyunjin broke down, weeping into the crook of his neck for what felt like an eternity.

“It—it kept happening—almost a year—until negotiations finally failed again—” the commander stammered through wrenching sobs, his fingernails carving deep into Felix's back, sending sharp, searing pains that Felix ignored, holding onto Hyunjin with a relentless grip, feeling the man's agony reverberate through his own soul. “W-why didn’t I kill him?!” Hyunjin howled in anguish, burying his face in Felix's neck, his body convulsing with the weight of his torment.

“Hyunjin, you were only a—“

“I had already killed so many by then! So why—why couldn't I have just—just—“

Felix choked on his own tears, drowning in sorrow for the man he held, a man he could never blame for his shattered state.

“You saw the power he wielded! Imagine if you had failed and he retaliated by harming young Innie? You did what you believed best to protect your loved ones. You shielded Jeongin. You did nothing wrong."

Hyunjin wept with a ferocity that seemed to stretch time itself, his cries echoing in the space like a storm. Felix felt an urge to siphon away some of this searing anguish, to give him a sliver of peace, but he knew that sometimes the only way through such torment was to feel every raw, agonizing second. A bandaid on emotions was futile, even dangerous, when processing such profound grief. There needed to be a purging; and for both Felix and Hyunjin, that moment had arrived like a tidal wave crashing down upon them.

Felix sobbed with equal intensity, his tears mingling with thoughts of all the terrible judgments he'd passed on this broken man. He was starkly reminded that Hyunjin, too, was once a child, scarred by his own traumas.

If someone had told Felix just a day before that he'd find himself crying alongside Hyunjin, holding him close after saving him from what could have been yet another horrific violation, one of many from the sounds of it, he would have laughed in disbelief. And yet, there they were: clinging to each other, drenched in tears amidst the carnage that surrounded them.

“No one can know. No one can can know! Please!” Hyunjin whimpered, his voice trembling with such intense fragility it was almost unbearable. It shattered Felix's heart, splintering it into pieces at the sound of such raw desperation. “Please don’t tell anyone, Felix, please! Please—don’t— Minho can’t—”

"Felix! Oh my god!" Jisung's voice tore through the corridor, laced with desperation, as he hobbled frantically, leaning heavily on his cane toward the horrific scene that awaited him. Felix and Hyunjin were ensnared amidst a grotesque tapestry of shredded flesh and congealing pools of blood.

Hyunjin's body went rigid, his breath a jagged gasp of terror as he struggled wildly to shove Felix away. But Felix, with an iron resolve, held him fast, pulling Hyunjin closer with unyielding strength. He cradled Hyunjin's face into his shoulder, fingers tracing calming patterns across his scalp, offering a sanctuary amid the chaos, a shield against the madness threatening to consume him.

Jisung ignored the carnage surrounding him, dropping to his knees beside Felix with a sharp wince of pain. He urgently pushed aside the blood-soaked strands clinging to Felix's face, taking in the sight of his friend's eyes, swollen and overflowing with tears. Concern was deeply carved into Jisung's features as he tenderly, yet futilely, attempted to wipe blood from Felix's cheeks.

“I felt your power and followed my senses," Jisung whispered, his voice quivering with awe and disbelief, "but—oh gods—”

He knew Felix so well that he could decipher the silent request in his friend's sorrowful gaze. He didn't dare ask if they were alright or what horrors had unfolded, understanding that Felix was deliberately shielding the commander's fallen visage from view. Felix's eyes were desperate, silently begging him not to dig deeper.

Jisung hesitated, then yielded with a tense urgency. “What can I do?" he demanded softly, though his voice carried an edge.

Felix's words were terse and frantic. "I need to get him back to our chambers and cleaned up before anyone finds us like this—” but Jisung was already moving, nodding with fierce determination.

“Go!” he insisted with authority. “Go now. I'll handle this mess," he vowed, his voice a low, commanding promise.

“Minho,” Hyunjin murmured, his voice a fragile whisper against Felix's vest, eyes clamped shut, forehead pressing heavily into Felix's collarbone. “Minho cannot know."

Felix's eyes met Jisung's with a shared, unspoken dread, and Jisung nodded with unwavering resolve.

“I will not breathe a word of this to anyone," he pledged, the weight of his promise heavy despite the mystery of what had truly unfolded, leaving a chaotic trail of evidence scattered through the hallway.

They exchanged tense nods and loaded glances before Felix leaned in, voice barely audible, like a breath against Hyunjin's ear. "Can Ji help me get you up?" Felix asked, each word carefully measured, seeking Hyunjin's absolute permission to allow another's touch, especially after everything that had transpired.

Hyunjin's response came after a protracted silence, his head moving in a slow, reluctant shake. He let go of Felix with a palpable hesitation. "I can stand on my own," he muttered, his voice a hollow echo of his inner turmoil, his eyes firmly fixed on anything but Felix as he attempted to rise.

Felix's gaze was unyielding, tracking Hyunjin's every movement as if anticipating disaster at any moment. He quickly moved to his side, both of them unsteady, the alcohol they'd consumed earlier still lingering, yet they held their ground as Jisung heaved himself upright with his cane, nearly losing his balance on the slick, bloodied floor.

"Ji, are you sure—"

"Go!" Jisung barked, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife, gesturing with a fierce urgency that tolerated no argument.

Felix didn't waste time with further argument. Instead, he swiftly wrapped an arm around the commander's waist for support, allowing the commander to lean heavily against him, their arms locked in a desperate embrace of survival. They bolstered each other, moving with urgent caution down the hallway, each step a struggle against the chaos they left behind.

Jisung's eyes followed the duo until they vanished around the corner, then he turned back into the alcove. The silence was deafening as he stood amidst the aftermath, a tableau of destruction that demanded explanation. He navigated around the mangled remains, his gaze fixed on something disturbingly familiar wedged among the grotesque collage of flesh clinging to the wall. With grim determination, he approached and carefully extracted the object, holding it delicately between two fingers as if it might explode.

He felt a sinking sensation in his stomach when he recognized the object.

Chapter Text

Upon bursting into Felix and Hyunjin's bedchambers, Hyunjin tore himself away from Felix without uttering a word, the door slamming shut and locking with a resounding finality. He vanished into the bathroom, leaving it open as per his peculiar habit, a behavior Felix always found unsettling. The violent hiss of the shower roared to life, a clear signal of Hyunjin's desperate need for solitude—a solitude Felix was determined not to grant.

Felix followed, his resolve unyielding, stepping into the bathroom moments later, only to be halted in his tracks by the sight before him. Hyunjin, fully clothed, was sitting on the cold, tiled floor, directly beneath the relentless torrent of water. His arms clung tightly around his legs, a fortress against the world. Felix's heart twisted painfully at the sight; Hyunjin was unraveling, drowning in the chaos of the night's events and the suffocating shadows of past traumas and unwanted burdens of this new reality. The weight of responsibility crashed over Felix, an overwhelming tide of guilt and urgency that left him breathless.

He was the very embodiment of Hyunjin’s seething disdain and relentless frustrations, having moved into not just his home but the sacred confines of his personal space. Felix simmered with rage over this intolerable arrangement, so consumed by his own frustration that he never paused to consider that Hyunjin might share his resentment with his own justifiable reasons. To exacerbate the situation, Felix provoked the man to the brink of madness, unleashing some feral demon within him, and then audaciously used his powers to sedate the tormented commander, arrogantly skipping any semblance of consent before forcefully shifting them to the beach with a mere thought. And to cap it all, Felix had brought the very man who had dared to assault Hyunjin to this place.

A wave of nausea crashed over him, a sickening realization that Hyunjin, beneath his aggressive exterior toward Felix, wasn't truly cruel at heart. Felix's mind spun with the memory of the man confessing that their encounter was driven by Hyunjin's desperate plea to spare Felix. The thought pierced through him, leaving a painful ache in his chest. Why would Hyunjin go to such lengths to protect someone he appeared to despise? Could there be a flicker of humanity within Hyunjin after all? Felix remembered the tears Hyunjin shed over the young boy in the infirmary, his voice choked with regret as he offered sorrowful apologies. Now Felix found himself here, witnessing the once-fearsome dragon-riding commander trying to scrub away his anguish under a torrent of water, sobbing quietly into his drenched clothes.

Hyunjin sat on the floor, a vulnerable shell of a man, as if he needed to shield himself from the harsh reality of the world pressing down on him, but suddenly felt the warmth of a hand resting gently on his shoulder, sending a shiver of goosebumps racing across his skin. He stiffened, his body tensing defensively at the imagined return of an attacker for another brutal round. But when he looked up, he was met not with the blazing fury he feared, but with soft brown, golden-flecked eyes filled with genuine care and compassion.

Felix clenched his jaw, fighting the instinct to grimace as the freezing water pelted him, but he resolutely knelt beside Hyunjin. In a swift, deliberate motion, he reached up and twisted the knob, transforming the icy torrent into a comforting warmth.

The elf turned his gaze to Hyunjin, his palms open and steady, silently offering his aid to the commander who seemed paralyzed by a storm of agony and confusion. After what felt like an eternity of tense silence, Hyunjin finally reached out, their fingers intertwining with a desperation that echoed his need for support. He struggled to rise, his legs betraying him with a quivering instability, and agony seared through his lower back where the brutal stomp had landed. But Felix was there, unyielding, catching him before he crumbled, holding the commander upright with unwavering strength.

Blood mingled with water, swirling in a gorey torrent as it flowed down the drain, cascading over their bodies in murky rivulets. Yet neither of them paid heed to the mess, their focus solely on each other and the silent understanding that passed between them, with Felix only tearing his focus away for a split second to twist the knob, adjusting the water temperature to a comfortable heat before returning his undivided attention back to Hyunjin.

“Can I?” Felix's voice was a quiet, urgent whisper, his fingertips curling with a deliberate intensity around the hem of Hyunjin's soaked tank top. He waited with a tense patience, his eyes locked onto Hyunjin's, seeking the unspoken consent to proceed.

Hyunjin hesitated, a fleeting wariness flickering in his gaze, but after a heartbeat of uncertainty, he surrendered. With a quivering exhale, he lifted his arms, granting Felix the permission he sought. Felix deftly pulled the garment over Hyunjin's head, stripping it away to reveal his bare chest. Hyunjin stood exposed, his gaze averted from Felix's penetrating stare, while Felix, with calculated precision, flung the soaked evidence into the empty bathtub, mentally noting the necessity of eradicating such incriminating traces of evidence later.

Felix caught sight of Hyunjin's hesitation, noting the violent tremble in his hands, which were crossed defensively over his chest. With determination, Felix grabbed those quivering hands, enveloping it in his own steady grip.

"Here," he offered softly yet firmly, guiding Hyunjin's hands to clutch the open edges of his vest, urging the commander to mimic the gesture as an unspoken pact of trust. Felix refused to let Hyunjin stand alone in vulnerability. In a bold act of solidarity, he allowed Hyunjin to push the vest from his shoulders, exposing their chests to each other with a mutual understanding, the garment hitting the ground with a resonant, wet thud.

"Felix," Hyunjin breathed, his voice barely above a whisper, eyes locked onto the elf’s chest. Felix's gaze followed, revealing a vivid imprint left by the lightning—a web of abstract streaks etched across his upper torso, both agonizing and strangely mesmerizing.

Felix exhaled sharply, shaking his head with defiance, dismissing Hyunjin's concern as if the injury were trivial. "It’s nothing," he lied through his teeth. The searing sensation was relentless beneath the hot stream, but it was a pain he could endure for now— for Hyunjin. It was a burden that held no sway over him.

Felix's gaze locked onto the commander's belt, which hung loosely, undone, yet he held his tongue, resisting the urge to make any suggestions. He waited with tense anticipation, allowing the commander the space to determine his own boundaries. He was determined not to let Hyunjin feel any hint of threat or pressure from his presence.

To his shock, Hyunjin was now fiercely resolute, driven by an intense urgency to strip away the suffocating fabric drenched in the blood of a monster that haunted him. His hands shook violently as he fumbled with the buckle of his trousers, a storm of emotions raging within him. With a swift motion, he let them drop, fabric pooling at his feet alongside his undergarments. He cast them aside into the growing pile, stepping forward with a palpable intensity, his presence both commanding and raw, yet tinged with desperation. His thumbs hovered at the edge of Felix’s waistband, a moment of hesitation freezing him in place. His gaze bore into Felix's eyes, so close, filled with a turbulent mix of anxiety and bold curiosity that mirrored his own tumult.

Felix's heart thundered in his chest at the closeness, the reality of standing on the brink of vulnerability beneath the steaming water with someone he never envisioned in such intimacy. Hailing from a society steeped in modesty, where only family had glimpsed him bare innocently as a child, and Jisung, who was as good as family, this moment felt like diving into the unknown, exhilarating yet terrifying. Nervousness thrummed through him like a live wire.

Yet, Hyunjin's need was a beacon cutting through Felix's apprehension, demanding precedence over his own discomfort. With determination, he summoned a reassuring, firm nod at Hyunjin, signaling his readiness to step into this uncharted territory together.

What he hadn’t anticipated was the meticulous care and gentleness with which Hyunjin removed his pants and underwear together. Hyunjin's fingers were steady and deliberate as they held onto Felix's hips, providing a reassuring anchor when Felix inevitably swayed slightly on his feet. Hyunjin kept his eyes tightly shut when when he bent, a gesture that seemed to honor Felix's privacy in a moment of vulnerability. Once the clothing was removed, Felix felt an overwhelming sense of exposure, like standing alone on a vast, open stage.

Instinctively, he moved to cover himself, driven by a primal need to shield his vulnerability. However, he found himself distracted by the sight of the commander, who had also stood back to his full height.

Hyunjin staggered forward, all sense of modesty abandoned, as he wrapped Felix in a fierce, almost desperate embrace. Felix, without hesitation, reciprocated with equal fervor, ignoring the absence of fabric between them entirely. In this very moment, the lack of barriers didn't even register; it was irrelevant. The raw intimacy of physically and emotionally supporting Hyunjin, both stripped to their bare essences under the steaming water, sent an electrifying current through Felix. This was not about desire, but a profound connection that transcended the physical—casual yet intense, domestic and sacred. Despite the whirlwind of events, there was an overwhelming, almost intoxicating sense of tranquility.

The tranquillity surged when Hyunjin abruptly pulled away, only to reach behind Felix and seize his floral shampoo with a determined grip. He squeezed the fragrant liquid into his hand, then fervently began to work it into Felix’s hair, his fingers kneading with a fervor that Felix could only describe as profoundly tender. Felix contemplated that perhaps this was the softer, more caring side of Hyunjin that others had hinted at, a side he no longer felt the need to conceal after what Felix had witnessed. Or maybe, just maybe, this was Hyunjin’s method of coping, immersing himself in the tactile act to stave off the tumult within. The man seemed like a hollow shell now, numb and vacant, his eyes swollen and bloodshot yet hauntingly distant, only occasional sniffles hinting at the depth of pain that threatened to unravel what little composure he now forced himself to uphold.

Felix never imagined Hyunjin would be the one to scrub the gore from his hair, yet he found himself reveling in the sensation. Hyunjin's fingers worked with masterful precision, pressing into Felix's scalp with a force that sent shivers down his spine. Felix let his eyes flutter shut, surrendering entirely to the intoxicating touch. The crimson stains matted in his hair slowly cascaded down in thick, dark torrents, swirling around their feet in vibrant pink pools before vanishing into the abyss below.

Felix closed his eyes, a deep, rumbling hum of satisfaction vibrating through his chest. The taller man let out a low chuckle, drawing Felix's attention back as he opened his eyes with a curious intensity. Felix's gaze climbed slowly to meet Hyunjin's own, and a subtle smile spread across his lips at the vibrant spark dancing in them, a stark contrast to the hollow, defeated look they held before.

"What?" Felix demanded, his voice edged with urgency.

"You sounded like a puppy for a moment there," Hyunjin teased, his voice a playful whisper, though rough and gravelly from his earlier screams.

"Hey," Felix protested, heat rising to his cheeks as he turned his gaze away, suddenly and inexplicably flustered. "I'm not the one that growls in my sleep."

Hyunjin's cheeks flushed with color, a hint of vulnerability breaking through his demeanor. "...Nightmares," he confessed, the word barely audible, burdened with unspoken weight. Felix, sensing the gravity and respecting the silence, understood without needing more.

"If it... um... if it bothers you—" Hyunjin began, his voice laced with an uncharacteristic uncertainty.

"It doesn't," Felix cut in sharply, his voice unwavering and resolute. "Not at all."

Hyunjin cleared his throat, forcing his attention back to washing Felix's hair with a meticulous intensity, his fingers working methodically, kneading the tender areas behind the elf's ears. It was a rare chance to study Felix closely, his eyes blissfully shut. Felix's damp hair fell like a silken waterfall, framing his face in a way that highlighted his striking features rather than concealing them. His lips, a lively, natural red hue, parted slightly with each gentle breath, his chest rising and falling in a serene rhythm.

His skin was a perfect masterpiece, marred only by a few recent, but faint, battle scars and contusions that decorated his otherwise flawless, freckled canvas. It was a living work of art, demanding to be immortalized in ink and canvas, a testament for all to gaze upon in awe. Those golden eyelashes, glistening with droplets, shimmered like sunlight captured in strands of gold.

Hyunjin had once gazed upon a masterpiece portraying elves as stunning and irresistibly captivating, but it paled in comparison to the vision before him now. He could declare with absolute certainty that he had never beheld such breathtaking beauty, not even in the most exquisite works of art.

Under any other circumstances, he would have collapsed to his knees, overwhelmed with gratitude, and shouted praises to the heavens for the divine blessing of marrying such an exquisite creature. Yet the harsh truth seared into his soul was that in an alternate reality, where the elf was not compelled into this union, Felix, whose future stretched infinitely beyond the stars and whose prospects towered like a mountain of endless possibilities, would never genuinely choose, love, or even glance at someone as insignificant as him.

Felix's eyes snapped open once more, catching Hyunjin's unwavering gaze, a complex, enigmatic emotion simmering beneath the surface. For a fleeting instant, Felix was tempted to decipher the thoughts swirling in the commander's mind but quickly decided he didn't dare unravel that mystery. Instead, he reached behind him, determination coursing through his veins, and squeezed a dollop of shampoo into his hand. With deliberate care, he worked it into Hyunjin's ashen hair, his fingers dancing through the short strands, a chuckle bubbling up at the unusual sensation.

"This won't take long at all," he teased, igniting a spark of amusement in Hyunjin, who huffed in response. Felix meticulously lathered each strand, his focus unwavering.

"Believe it or not, it was as long as yours just a fortnight before you arrived," Hyunjin retorted, his tone edged with irony. "You think the red one is a beast? Wait until you meet his brother. That asswipe incinerated half my hair off."

"Oh?" Felix's curiosity turned razor-sharp at the mention of dragons. "There is another?" His voice was laced with disbelief, having only witnessed the crimson terror.

Hyunjin nodded, and a fierce fondness ignited in his eyes as he spoke of the mighty creatures. "The red one is Hwalyong. The one that almost devoured you," he chuckled, a sound like distant thunder. "He's the less aggressive of the two and smaller."

Felix snorted, a sound laced with incredulity, his eyes rolling in playful defiance. "Smaller? Less aggressive?" he challenged, his voice dripping with skepticism, recalling all too vividly the razor-sharp teeth that had been inches from his face. "You speak of the one you mounted during battle?"

"Yeah," Hyunjin smirked faintly, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he continued. "I raised them both from hatchlings, but Minho refuses to entertain the idea that they’re mine. He insists that one cannot own a dragon, and that dragons own us. But when I say they’re mine and belong to me, I don’t mean that I own them. It’s… not like that. It’s hard to explain. In general, to gain the respect of a dragon, you must earn it and show them the same respect in return. Geomyong, though, the larger, black one, prefers to be left alone. He is incredibly independent and that’s his desire which I respect. I leave him alone to do whatever he wants, and every so often, he will come back around for a day or two just to make his presence known. Minho believes it to be a threatening reminder that he's always lurking by, but... honestly, I think it's just his way of letting me know he's still alive and well," Hyunjin explained quietly but with subtle enthusiasm. He leaned subtly into Felix's tender ministrations, a slight, fond smile gracing his lips as he spoke of his dragons.

Felix listened intently, his genuine intrigue evident in his expression. He was captivated by how relaxed Hyunjin had become, his demeanor softening when discussing something he clearly loved and was passionate about. Hyunjin's eyes sparkled brightly, like stars twinkling in the night sky, whenever he spoke of the beasts.

"And I appreciate it. I do worry about them when they're away for too long," Hyunjin confessed, his voice tinged with a mix of concern and affection. "They're the only two dragons left in the entire world. And... this probably sounds stupid to you, but they're like… my family, you know?" He paused, searching Felix's eyes for validation, receiving a subtle nod although Felix was momentarily taken aback by the sincerity in the commander's words. Hyunjin continued with fervent passion, his gaze distant as if recalling fond memories.

"Hwalyong is like... my sidekick," he said, a fond smile tugging at his lips. "He can get possessive and clingy sometimes, to an extreme degree. He also has a deep-seated hatred for elves... which you found out already... but he would never disobey me, even if Minho says otherwise. Hell, he even listens to Minho, though Minho would prefer not to deal with him without me present. Hwalyong also loves Seungmin's voice. It can summon him from miles away, and he'll sit perfectly still for hours to listen to him sing."

Hyunjin's tone shifted slightly as he spoke of the other dragon. "But Geomyong? He does what he wants when he wants. Yet sometimes, just sometimes, he will listen to me. If you ever encounter him and I'm not nearby... run fast or it was good knowing you," he chuckled lightly, a hint of sardonic humor dancing in his eyes. Felix playfully shoved him, then returned to gently rubbing circles on Hyunjin's head, a comforting gesture that seemed to ground them both.

"They're not monsters..." Hyunjin's voice softened, trailing off with a somber note. For a heartbeat, Felix could almost sense that Hyunjin was not only trying to shield his beloved dragons from the ignorance or assumptions of the public but was also defending a part of himself, a connection deeper and more profound than mere companionship.

Felix felt hesitant to pry into Hyunjin's past, but he sensed that this moment presented a rare opportunity. Hyunjin appeared unusually calm and cooperative, which was a rarity.

"You mentioned you raised them from hatchlings? Were they the two eggs your mother found when she discovered you in the lair?" Felix asked cautiously, observing the way Hyunjin's body subtly tensed at the question, even though his outward demeanor remained composed.

Hyunjin nodded stiffly, and Felix immediately regretted the insensitivity of his question, recognizing that Hyunjin must be weary at this point. With a gentle touch, Felix rinsed the remaining suds from Hyunjin's hair, letting the water cascade down in rivulets.

A heavy pause lingered between them, the silence settling like a thick fog, until Hyunjin finally broke it, his voice calm yet probing.

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked flatly, his eyes locked onto Felix’s, searching for any sign of fear or hesitation in his response. The intensity of his gaze was unwavering, as if he were trying to read the very depths of Felix's soul.

Felix was jolted by the sudden shift, the question slicing through the conversation's easy flow like a knife through silk. He didn't fully grasp what triggered such an inquiry, but he pondered it with a gravity that weighed on his shoulders.

"I was," Felix confessed with a raw honesty that made his cheeks flush with an unexpected embarrassment.

Hyunjin's nod was brisk, almost mechanical, his demeanor turning cold and aloof as his eyes dropped to the shower floor, fixated on the chaotic dance of water spiraling down the drain.

Felix reached out the shower space and seized a wash rag, his hand trembling slightly as he lathered it with soap from the shower's edge, transforming it into a frothy mass before cautiously pressing it against Hyunjin's chest with bated breath.

"Was," Felix emphasized with a deliberate firmness, ensuring Hyunjin caught the meaning in his words. He locked eyes with Hyunjin, his gaze unwavering and searing with sincerity.

"I admit, there is something within you that frightens me," Felix admitted, his voice steady but laden with emotion, "yet I refuse to believe it's truly… you. After witnessing the turmoil it brought you, I will not pry, but if ever the time comes when you feel safe enough to share with me the truth of what exactly it was behind those red eyes that attacked me that day, I will be here to listen," he vowed fiercely, the rag moving with gentle precision over the contours of Hyunjin's muscle.

He noticed the rigidity and uncertainty in the commander's eyes, a silent admission confirmed when the man gave a subtle shake of his head, clearly unwilling to discuss the matter openly. Felix could respect that unspoken boundary. Instead of pressing further, he shifted tactics as the cloth glided along his collarbones.

"That is okay," he reassured with a calm intensity, observing the tension in the commander soften slightly. "To answer your question, no. No, I am not afraid of you, Hwang Hyunjin," he declared with quiet resolve, emphasizing the commander's name to separate the murderous entity from the vulnerable man standing before him now, though it was no simple feat. As the rag descended slowly along his torso, he pressed on, his voice unwavering, "Are you afraid of me?"

Hyunjin stood rigidly, his eyes locked onto Felix with an intensity that could cut through steel, his mind a tumultuous storm, churning with rapid-fire thoughts. He grappled with the elf's confession and concern, his inner turmoil evident as he struggled to find the right words. Finally, he decided to lay bare the truth, albeit with great reluctance. It felt like conceding to an enemy, a bitter pill for the esteemed commander to swallow. Yet, Felix had just witnessed him at his lowest, uncovering a humiliating secret that no other soul knew. There was no point in hiding now.

"Yes," he admitted, his voice quivering, his vulnerability laid bare as his heart pounded like a war drum.

Felix nodded, comprehension in his eyes, though he couldn't quite wrap his mind around the notion of someone as formidable as the commander harboring fear of him. It was unfathomable, the idea that anyone would dread him before these past, harrowing days.

After rinsing the rag under the stream with deliberate care, he scrubbed it gently but firmly across Hyunjin's neck and shoulders, vigilantly avoiding any bruises or cuts.

"Does your hatred for my kind arise from... what he did to you?" Felix asked, his voice a fragile whisper, each word a tentative step on treacherous ground.

Hyunjin's response was swift and unyielding. "It doesn’t even scrape the surface. Make no mistake."

The immediacy of Hyunjin's answer struck Felix like a physical blow, leaving him reeling. The revelation that deeper, more agonizing reasons lurked beneath the surface filled him with a profound sorrow. If such a vile act was merely the starting point of Hyunjin's animosity, it hinted at horrors unfathomable in their cruelty. Felix's mind spiraled, struggling to conceive of anything more monstrous. Though he prided himself on his ability to discern the sins of an individual from those of a race or kingdom, he couldn't shake the gnawing suspicion that others among the Felorans he knew might also conceal sinister shadows within their hearts.

Despite Felix's mind racing like a runaway train, he noticed how Hyunjin transformed into a statue of tension. His spine snapped straight as a rod, muscles coiled tightly like a spring ready to snap, exuding an aura of defensiveness and isolation. Recognizing the rising discomfort like a storm brewing, Felix abruptly veered the conversation toward lighter shores, his instincts flaring like a crimson warning flag.

Felix cleared his throat, the sound cutting through the charged air, and finished scrubbing Hyunjin down with swift, practiced motions. He gestured for Hyunjin to turn away, the command almost a plea, wanting to wash his back, to soothe the tension etched into every line of his body. He began at the shoulder blades, his eyes wide with a mix of admiration and intrigue as the soap suds cascaded down Hyunjin's spine, tracing a path over scars and indentations, like secrets whispered too loud.

He could sense Hyunjin's unease at having his back turned towards him, the vulnerability of presenting himself so openly. Felix approached the moment with delicate, tender strokes, each circular motion a silent promise of respect and understanding. He traced the contours of Hyunjin's back, feeling the knots of tension nestled beneath the surface of his skin. These were the silent chronicles of past wounds, both physical and emotional, that had healed over time yet remained ever-present, like ghosts lingering in the shadows.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Felix breathed, the words slipping out in a rush, driven by a fierce compulsion that drowned out reason. He held his breath, the room filled with nothing but the sound of water and anticipation.

A soft grunt of assent came from Hyunjin, a small surrender, and Felix felt a surge of courage as he confessed into the steam-thick air between them.

"My birth name is Yongbok."

The revelation hung there, heavy, as though he'd opened a door long sealed.

Hyunjin glanced over his shoulder with interest, his brows furrowing at the unexpected disclosure as a ghost of a smile tugged at his lips.

That along with the sight of Hyunjin's back muscles rippling with tension sent a fierce electric jolt racing through Felix’s lower abdomen. The sensation was intoxicating, bizarre, and exhilarating, leaving him momentarily breathless. Yet, Felix reprimanded himself sharply, knowing full well that this was no time to be entranced by the allure of a man who clearly needed solace. Despite his harsh demeanor, there was no denying Hyunjin's striking handsomeness—a fact glaringly obvious to anyone with a working pair of eyes. Felix wondered if that was why the commander’s vitriol cut him so deeply but instantly felt shallow for the thought. He believed that being assessed on more than just his character was a valid reason for it to hurt so profoundly.

"Bullshit," Hyunjin snorted incredulously, his voice carrying a note of disbelief that hung in the air like a tangible thread. He turned back around, his movement fluid and unhurried, prompting Felix to continue scrubbing downwards gradually. Felix couldn't help but let a grin spread across his face, unable to suppress his amusement at Hyunjin's reaction.

"Real shit," Felix replied with a mischievous grin, his eyes sparkling with cheeky humor.

Hyunjin glanced back over his shoulder, his expression a blend of skepticism and amusement. His eyes, filled with a doubtful glimmer, seemed to twinkle with the unexpected thrill of hearing the elf curse. Felix simply responded with an impish shrug, his grin broadening into something endearingly playful.

"It means 'dragon’s fortune'. I know... ironic, isn't it?" Felix laughed lightly, the sound a melodic ripple in the air as he reached the base of Hyunjin's back and the top of his buttocks. He halted there, his hands pausing just shy of venturing further, as if the moment had taken on a fragile quality. Before he could ask if Hyunjin was comfortable enough for him to continue, Hyunjin turned to face him again, his expression flat and unwavering. He snatched the rag from Felix's hand with a firm grip, his eyes steady and unyielding.

"I'm not weak," Hyunjin defended pointedly, his voice carrying a petulant edge. Felix felt a wave of astonishment wash over him, surprised that Hyunjin seemed offended by the mere pause for consent.

Felix frowned apologetically, a flush of embarrassment creeping onto his cheeks at the mistaken assumption that he'd meant to offend the commander. “Having boundaries on where you permit me to touch you would not make you weak, Hyunjin. Quite the contrary,” he stated with a gentle yet firm tone, his voice resonating with sincerity. He observed Hyunjin as he stared at the rag in his hand, lost in distant contemplation, his gaze fixed and unmoving. Felix couldn’t discern if Hyunjin felt humiliated by the gentle reprimand, but knowing his pride, it seemed likely. There was also the possibility that wounds and trauma were resurfacing, and Felix was determined to prevent that.

With a careful touch, Felix placed a tentative hand on Hyunjin's wrist, holding it with the utmost gentleness.

"Here," he whispered softly, guiding Hyunjin’s rag-wielding hand to rest against his own neck. He nodded reassuringly, ensuring Hyunjin felt a sense of total control over the situation, free from any obligation or coercion. “I trust you,” Felix murmured earnestly, his words infused with heartfelt trust. The sincerity caught Hyunjin off guard, his eyes widening in shock as they flickered up to meet Felix's, startled by the unexpected submissive gesture.

In truth, Felix found himself trusting Hyunjin at this very moment, a flicker of certainty amidst a sea of unpredictability, but Hyunjin remained largely a wild card, a man full of unexpected turns and hidden depths. Felix couldn't fully place confidence in the entirety of Hyunjin's being, yet he trusted him enough to believe he wouldn't cross certain boundaries. After the intense events of earlier and the raw vulnerability the commander had shown, Felix finally felt a deep-seated trust in Hyunjin's promise that he would never commit such an act. Still, there was an odd sensation in entrusting his life to a man whose motives were shrouded in mystery. Yet, Felix had little choice but to remain vigilant, but conceding. As Hyunjin began to cleanse him, the water glistening against Felix's skin, he started at Felix's shoulders, moving with deliberate precision, mirroring Felix's earlier actions. This methodical approach allowed Hyunjin to feel a sense of empowerment, while simultaneously conveying that Felix harbored no fear of him. The room was filled with only the sound of water trickling down, creating a serene atmosphere that belied the complexity of their shared trust.

"My grandfather bestowed the name upon me at birth. During my mother's pregnancy, he often claimed to have dreamt of a mysterious Feloran, one he could not identify, descending majestically upon the horizon line, riding the back of the most magnificent, colossal dragon ever to have graced the earth. Beneath them, a vast army marched in unison, their sheer numbers so immense that they seemed to blanket the earth entirely. Their armor and sigils were a variety of colors, not one discernible. My grandfather believed that dreams held profound significance, not to be dismissed, and thus he named me Yongbok in accordance," Felix explained quietly while Hyunjin, with meticulous care, moved the rag delicately across his stomach. He slowed slightly over the areas with even the slightest of cuts and contusions, ensuring his touch remained feather-light, respectful of the wounds of battle.

"You can imagine my parents' displeasure at having their infant son essentially named after a mere recurring dream that my grandfather insisted was a prophecy of some sort. Especially one so outlandish," he chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I suppose they owe him an apology, seeing as I have now fought in battle alongside a dragon..."

Reality began to settle in, like the slow descent of twilight. The realization dawned upon him, illuminating his thoughts with the truth that in some inexplicable way, what his grandfather dreamt was not quite as delusional as they had believed. Here he stood, wed to the formidable commander of Levanter, adopted brother of the king, discovered beneath the expansive wing of a slain dragon, and had fought in an unforeseen battle alongside his husband, who rode atop an awe-inspiring, fire-breathing dragon. What an astonishing adventure his life had morphed into in such a brief span of time. It felt surreal recounting it, as Hyunjin diligently worked on washing him with gentle care.

"Hwalyong is hardly the most collosal dragon to ever have graced the earth," Hyunjin teased with a playful lilt, his fingers moving expertly. He shifted upwards, rinsing the cloth briefly under the cascading water before adding more soap to it, the scent of lavender and sandalwood mingling in the steamy air.

Felix chuckled quietly, appreciating the lighter tone, and couldn't help but smile affectionately, his heart warmed by the tender moment. "Well, there's always the possibility that it was more metaphorical," he suggested noncommittally, as Hyunjin gently turned him around, the cloth moving steadily from the nape of his neck to the middle of his upper back with soothing strokes. "Or perhaps grandfather just had wild dreams," he mused thoughtfully, the words floating like wisps of smoke in the humid air.

"And what does said grandfather think now that his precious Yongbok has moved to the historic land of dragons? Surely, he feels validated," Hyunjin hummed, a note of satisfaction threading through his voice as he pressed the soft fabric into the dimples on Felix's lower back.

"He doesn’t know," Felix replied, his voice tinged with a slight frown. His gaze flickered over his shoulder to the taller man standing behind him, their eyes meeting for a brief moment. "I mean, I’m sure he knows, but from his place among the stars. He’s no longer with us."

Hyunjin paused in his task, pulling the rag back swiftly, leaving behind a small trail of soap bubbles clinging to Felix's skin like tiny, glistening pearls. "Shit," he muttered suddenly, his voice barely a whisper as he exhaled a heavy, burdened sigh. It dawned on him that he had likely blundered into a sensitive subject. "Sorry."

Felix shrugged with a calm ease, though the gesture carried a subtle grace. He turned slightly, his eyes—deep and sincere—locking onto the commander's with a warmth that softened his entire expression.

"You didn’t know," he acknowledged, his voice steady and honest, carrying the weight of understanding. "Loss is a part of life and not a subject that should be avoided. He lived an incredibly long and happy life and was a pillar in shaping me to become who I am today.Talking about him keeps his legacy alive and fills me with joy through the memories."

Hyunjin stared back with unwavering focus, listening attentively to Felix speak, never once interrupting him. The intensity of Hyunjin's gaze made Felix momentarily self-conscious, prompting him to shift his eyes to the wall, as if its blank surface could somehow distract him from the palpable closeness of Hyunjin behind him. Felix hadn’t intended to launch into a monologue about loss to a seasoned war commander, someone who had likely endured the loss of countless more lives than he could fathom. Yet, thankfully, Hyunjin appeared receptive rather than dismissive, his demeanor open and considerate.

"I do believe that if he were still with us, he would find you utterly fascinating and would probably talk your ear off. Especially if he witnessed you astride a dragon. He had a whimsical and free-spirited nature, always ready for a heated discussion, sometimes just for the sheer enjoyment of debate. And he loved all creatures, great and small, with a passion. Despite being a son of Levanter, I’m quite sure he would have found you... pretty badass,” Felix giggled with an impish delight, a fond warmth spreading through him as he recalled his grandfather, the memory painting a grin across his face.

Felix was overwhelmed with the urge to glance back at Hyunjin again to read his expression. Even without looking, he sensed Hyunjin's eyes boring into him. Suppressing his apprehension, Felix tried to concentrate on keeping the conversation flowing, determined to mask the awkwardness and maintain a facade of nonchalance despite the charged intimacy of the moment.

He cleared his throat abruptly, a quick, nervous sound that seemed to hang in the air. Turning his head just slightly, he dared a glimpse at the commander. His voice, now more casual in tone, betrayed his intentions as words tumbled out unbidden, as if his lips had been set in motion by an invisible force beyond his control.

"You can touch me if you want to," Felix whispered, his voice soft yet startlingly clear, the suggestion hanging heavily between them. He froze, the double entendre of his statement dawning on him with mortifying clarity. "I-I mean—wash me—with the rag. Sorry, I wasn't thinking—" he stammered, his words tripping over themselves in his haste to clarify, his mind racing to backtrack from the unintended implication.

The instant those words slipped past his lips, a wave of mortification surged through him, drowning him in embarrassment. Gods, if only they could strike him down now. He feared he sounded like complete idiot, or worse, a fool driven by a reckless passion. Curse that damned alcohol. He groaned inwardly, cursing his inability to keep his mouth shut. It was true that the drink had loosened his tongue and slightly lowered his inhibitions, but beneath it all lay an undeniable truth. He longed for Hwang Hyunjin to continue washing him with such intimate care, free from the barriers of anger that had stood between them. Perhaps that desire made him seem weak, or perhaps it simply made him human. Regardless, he yearned desperately for something to anchor him as a rush of heat pooled southward, his traitorous body responding eagerly to the forbidden idea. Thankfully, Hyunjin appeared unaffected by the suggestion, and Felix couldn't help but wonder if this mounting tension was a one-way street. Maybe, despite the moments of vulnerability Hyunjin had shared with him, he still deeply despised Felix's very presence and felt not an ounce of attraction. Yet, that didn't explain the playful teasing at the festivities, how Felix had managed to render him submissive and hardening beneath the pressure of his foot.

Felix abruptly snapped himself out of his wandering, lewd thoughts when he felt fingertips gently gliding down his spine with deliberate slowness. He inhaled sharply, his body giving a slight jolt, having momentarily forgotten about Hyunjin's presence. The unexpected sensation of a calloused hand, rather than the expected wash rag, left him off balance. Felix parted his lips, ready to protest and clarify that he had meant for the cloth to be used, but before he could utter a word, the hand was replaced by the soft fabric, which tenderly resumed its task of cleaning the bubbles clinging to his skin. Felix exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he was holding with a shaky sigh, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. Despite his efforts to banish his lingering, impure thoughts, they stubbornly refused to dissipate, casting a shadow over his mind.

Felix silently coached his body to remain still as the rag moved languidly over his rear, the cool water trickling down his skin like a gentle stream. He reminded himself that this was simply a shower and nothing more, a routine cleansing like he had done countless times before. He had washed several bodies post-battle in a meaningless, clinical sense, and this was no different from that. Yet, the vivid mental image of Hyunjin possibly watching him, eyes lingering on the contours of his form, sent electric sparks coursing through him. The thought made Felix flush with warmth, his cheeks turning a shade of pink, and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to maintain a calm demeanor. He cursed his mind for wandering down this path, especially after he had just rescued Hyunjin from such deep, scarring trauma. It was utterly inappropriate. So, he forced himself to recall the distressing scene—Hyunjin’s desperate pleas for him to flee, the heart-wrenching sobs, and the dull, haunted look that now clouded Hyunjin's once fiery eyes. This reflection, though painful, instantly quelled the unwelcome arousal, allowing Felix to relax more naturally, his heartbeat settling into a steadier rhythm, even as a pang of heartache echoed within him.

Hyunjin remained silent as he meticulously and efficiently washed Felix, his movements precise and calculated, avoiding any lingering physical contact unless absolutely necessary to ensure a thorough clean. It wasn't until he gently turned Felix to face him and gracefully dropped to his knees that Felix witnessed what seemed to be an entirely new side of the usually brusque commander. With a gentle tap behind Felix's calf, Hyunjin signaled for him to lift his foot and rest it on his shoulder, a request Felix obliged. Throughout this wordless exchange, Hyunjin's eyes remained steadfastly locked onto Felix’s, even as he carefully washed each leg with precision. Felix marveled at Hyunjin's ability to maintain such unwavering eye contact, which seemed to require an extraordinary level of self-control. It wasn't that Felix ever sought to invade anyone’s privacy, but human nature often and naturally compelled a glance downward in such situations, given the current position they found themselves in. As Felix gazed at Hyunjin, he felt a growing sense of humility in his presence. It was a small gesture, yet it carried immense weight, allowing a newfound sense of trust to emerge between them.

So when Hyunjin stood, offering Felix the rag once again, Felix felt a profound sense of permission being granted, a silent understanding passing between them. The initial hesitation from earlier, which Felix had come to comprehend, seemed to dissipate in the air between them. Accepting the task with ease, Felix carefully moved the soft cloth along Hyunjin's thighs and rear. His touch was marked by the same attentiveness and gentle care that the taller man had shown him, each motion deliberate and tender. Felix kept his eyes focused intently on the task at hand, determined to resist the pull of any obnoxious carnal desires that threatened to bubble up within him, maintaining a steadfast concentration and unwavering discipline. The tactile reality of the moment was grounding, as every slight tensing of Hyunjin's muscles served as a reminder of the present, and strangely, it evoked a strong desire in Felix to envelop the commander in yet another comforting embrace.

When Hyunjin turned to face him, Felix mirrored the courtesy, keeping his gaze steadfastly locked onto Hyunjin's eyes, resisting the temptation to let his eyes wander elsewhere. Yet, Hyunjin's gaze was directed upward to the cieling, as though a gentle shyness had taken hold, casting a soft veil over the moment, intimate yet respectful.

"Hyunjin," Felix murmured gently, his voice barely rising above a whisper as he knelt on the damp tiles, the scent of soap and steam swirling around him. He had meticulously cleansed every inch of Hyunjin's skin, watching the lather glide away with the water down the drain.

As Hyunjin's eyes flicked toward him with a trace of hesitation, Felix's heart melted even more. The vulnerability etched on Hyunjin's face was unmistakable, and though the tears mingled with the rivulets of water streaming down his cheeks, it was clear that he was silently weeping. For a man as proud and unyielding as the war commander, such a raw display of emotion was undoubtedly a rarity, a glimpse into a soul usually guarded by armor as impenetrable as steel.

He didn’t bother asking. The man standing before him was a mystery even to himself, unaware of his own parents' identities. Jisung had previously shared that the man's adopted mother had lost her sanity after a fierce battle and had been confined to the highest tower of the castle, both for her safety and the safety of others. As if that weren't enough, Felix had gleaned from scattered hints that despite a deep-seated affection, the man and his younger brother had a strained relationship fraught with tension. Adding to his woes, the man had narrowly escaped death from basilisk venom and had, in a supernatural rage, nearly strangled his own husband. Forced into marriage with an elf, a union he clearly found displeasing, his burdens were heavy. His home had recently suffered an ambush, leaving several comrades—likely friends for whom he felt responsible—lost. The man cherished the dragons, viewing them as kin, and Felix could scarcely imagine the pain of having one's family regarded as ruthless monsters by the world, including his esteemed eldest brother, whom Hyunjin obviously admired.

Felix felt a pang of guilt for having mercilessly teased him beneath the table in front of others, a jest that now seemed cruel, even if it wasn't the source of his current sorrow. What Felix had stumbled upon had shaken him to his core, unearthing deep-seated traumas that the man probably never wanted revealed. Who could say what other shadows haunted the commander's troubled mind? Felix didn’t need to ask why the man was softly crying. There were countless reasons for his tears. So no, there was no need to inquire, because at this moment, Hwang Hyunjin needed comfort—physical, mental, and emotional.

And thus the elf carefully rose from his spot, his legs trembling beneath him like reeds in a gentle breeze. He swayed slightly, but managed to steady himself by leaning against the rough stone wall beside him. His thick lashes framed eyes that shimmered with compassion as he gazed up at the man, observing him with a cautious intensity. Despite their stark nakedness, standing within mere inches of each other, an invisible force seemed to ripple between them—a presence both intangible and undeniable, subtly altering the energy that flowed in the space they shared; perhaps it was a fleeting truce. In this charged moment, they were not merely two strangers thrust together by circumstance, destined to clash over their differences until exhaustion claimed them. They were not lovers either, yet the connection that tethered them transcended simple desire or attraction. It was a force both palpable and magnetic, like a bolt of lightning illuminating the ocean's surface in the dead of night—brilliantly visible for a heartbeat before vanishing into the shadows once more. Whatever this mysterious connection was, it unleashed an oddly pleasant sensation within them both, sending ripples of warmth cascading through their bodies, reaching every extremity. It was an unfamiliar feeling, yet it was welcomed with open hearts.

“Can I—?" Felix murmured softly, his voice gentle as he slowly extended his arms, approaching the other man as one might approach a skittish creature, leaving the choice open for rejection.

Hyunjin didn't respond verbally before enveloping Felix in a firm embrace, pulling him close while burying his face deeply in the crook of Felix's neck. There, he let out a ragged sob that trembled through his entire body. At first, Felix froze, unfamiliar with the sensation of another's bare body pressed so intimately against his own, touching in ways he had never imagined he would experience with Hwang Hyunjin, of all people. Yet, he quickly reciprocated the embrace, holding Hyunjin securely as he began to rub soothing circles along his back. The commander's tears fell freely, each drop a testament to the vulnerability he rarely displayed. Felix's heart ached at witnessing such raw emotion in the man who was usually so consumed by anger.

"As long as I'm here…" he whispered tenderly, attempting to reassure the weeping man with his gentle words, “You are safe. I promise." He murmured with sincerity, as Hyunjin clung to him desperately, sobbing with a kind of brokenness that spoke volumes.

They lingered in that embrace, Felix cradling them tenderly, patiently allowing Hyunjin to weep himself dry.

Let it out, Felix thought, holding him tighter and eventually beginning to sway with a gentle, calming rhythm beneath the cascading water. His soft, soothing humming blended with the sound of droplets, creating a serene melody that enveloped them. It felt like time stood still, as the warmth of the water gradually faded.

Chapter Text

Jisung staggered into his chambers, gasping for air as he slammed the door shut, clutching his side where pain shot through his ribcage like a jagged blade. He realized, perhaps too late, that dealing with bits of body parts and scrubbing buckets of blood while injured wasn't the wisest decision. But Felix had needed him. The moment Felix unleashed his powers, Jisung felt the electric charge ripple through the air, but he hadn't anticipated stumbling upon such a massacre. He yearned to know the full tale behind the chaos, but with Felix focused on consoling a shaken commander, the details could wait. Trust in his best friend was enough to guide him through these grisly deeds.

The task was grueling, yet Felix had always been there for him, shielding him from trouble and danger time and again.

Jisung had painstakingly scrubbed the corridor until it gleamed, employing a touch of his magic to scour the ceiling. The disposal of the remains was a less arduous task, thanks to their precarious dwelling on the side of a volcano. With a blend of magic and precision, every trace of evidence was hurled out a window into a molten stream of lava that conveniently flowed downward. This included his own bloodstained garments. The endeavor was a frantic, adrenaline-charged race against time, as the last thing he wanted was to be discovered stark naked and smeared with blood—an image impossible to justify. Luckily, the ongoing revelry in the feast hall ensured the corridors were shrouded in darkness, empty and still. This perfect cover allowed him to slip into a vacant bedchamber, its owner unknown, and hastily wash away the evidence before plundering their wardrobe for something wearable. The room's occupant seemed to be a both a woman and a larger man than himself, as the clothes hung loosely on Jisung, but they would suffice until he could retreat to his own quarters.

Leaning heavily on his cane, Jisung peeled off his shoes, ready to collapse into his quarters, only to be jolted by the unexpected sight of the king perched thoughtfully at the edge of his bed.

"Lee Know-ah! You scared me!" Jisung blurted, his hand pressed over his heart, which thudded wildly in his chest.

Minho looked at him with a blank expression, his eyes devoid of emotion as he observed Jisung's features with a sharp intensity that made the latter feel vaguely uncomfortable under the weight of that penetrating gaze. "It's good to see you moving around so freely again," he remarked, his tone flat and unfeeling.

Jisung chuckled nervously, his laughter a soft, awkward sound as Minho continued to study him in silence. His fingers fidgeted absently with his cane, a small gesture of unease.

“I brought you some food,” Minho said, gesturing toward the table behind Jisung, which was laden with an array of dishes. The plates were piled high with a variety of foods, leaving barely any room on the tray. Among them, a huge piece of cake stood out, its frosting glistening temptingly. "Unless you’ve eaten elsewhere already."

Jisung turned to look at the tray, his eyes widening slightly as they roved hungrily over the assortment of delicious-looking dishes, particularly the plate stacked with pastries of different flavors.

He shook his head, a small, nervous smile playing on his lips. "N-No! I haven’t eaten. I'm starving, actually," he confessed sheepishly, his voice tinged with a hint of embarrassment.

Minho nodded curtly, his gaze sweeping over Jisung once more before he dropped his eyes to the floor, staring thoughtfully at the space between his feet. "If you do not wish to share yourself with me exclusively, I respect that. It will pain me to see you affectionate with another, but it's not my place to dictate your feelings or actions, nor is it in my right to possess you against your will," Minho spoke softly, his voice trembling slightly with the weight of emotions he struggled to hide.

Jisung watched him in silence, concern etched on his features as Minho fought to maintain a neutral expression, avoiding eye contact as he kept his gaze fixed downward.

"But for my own sake, I think it's important that we establish that now lest I fall deeper..." His voice faded, the words hanging in the air unfinished. He managed a fleeting glance, his eyes meeting mine for a split second before he looked away, a hint of bashfulness coloring his demeanor.

Jisung was at a loss, unable to grasp what had prompted this sudden and serious topic. The sight of him upset was unsettling, a stark contrast to the mischievous, crooked grin that usually adorned the king's face—a sight Jisung always cherished.

With a determined yet gentle hobble, Jisung made his way over until he stood directly in front of the king, who sat motionless on the edge of the bed. He reached out, hooking his index finger beneath Minho's chin with a tender insistence, coaxing the king to lift his gaze from the floor.

"What brought this on all of a sudden?" Jisung asked, his voice tinged with confusion as their eyes met in a full, unwavering connection. His thumb traced a soft line across Minho's chiseled jawline, a gesture filled with unspoken affection.

The contact seemed to startle Minho, who pulled his head back abruptly, his movements marked by an unusual stiffness. He gestured around the room, his actions betraying a mix of hesitation and discomfort.

“It pained me deeply that you were too injured to attend the festivities, and I was worried that you might be lonely. The thought of you here alone while everyone else was having a blast made me ill at ease. My only solace was the knowledge that you were resting and rejuvenating. Yet, upon my arrival, I found your bed empty and you nowhere to be found. I wasn't upset because you have full autonomy to wander as you wish, but I waited for you. And waited. Now, you return... flustered, with wet hair and clothes that don't seem to fit quite right...”

The accusation simmered in the air, as if it had been hurled directly into his ears, yet Minho maintained a composure that somehow cut deeper than a shouted reprimand. Jisung took a cautious step backward, feeling both shaken and bewildered.

"Wha—"

"Again, if you wish to be with others, I will accept that, but we should talk about this sooner rather than later at the very least."

"Lee Know!" Jisung blurted out, his voice carrying a stern edge that instantly silenced Minho. He stepped forward with determination, his movements deliberate yet filled with urgency. Dropping to his knees with a wince, he positioned himself between the man's legs, the hardwood floor pressing against him uncomfortably. "You believe I've been away fooling around with another man?" His breath escaped through his nostrils in a soft but audible sigh, tinged with mild exasperation. The warmth of his hands settled atop each of Minho's thighs, fingers splayed as if trying to convey reassurance through touch alone.

Minho's gaze remained fixed downward, an impassive mask shrouding his features, his eyes seemingly distant and detached. The dispassionate regard caught Jisung off guard, a flicker of surprise flashing across his face. Finally, Minho shrugged, the movement almost petulant, his jaw clenched with tension. "Or woman," he responded tightly, the words slipping out like a reluctant admission, each syllable carrying a weight of its own.

Jisung released another short exhalation, his mind reeling with disbelief and a touch of amusement. The king's suspicion was understandable—it all looked bizarre. Jisung had vanished into the night for hours, but how could he possibly confess to the man that Felix had presumably committed murder, likely defending Hyunjin if he had assessed context clues correctly, without the king questioning his brother's state? Jisung had sworn, under no circumstances, to reveal what he had witnessed to anyone. His care for Minho was immense, yet he couldn't risk shattering Felix's trust. How on earth could he explain that his hair was drenched because he had stealthily infiltrated an unoccupied chamber of a party attendee, pilfering their clothes to obliterate any trace of the horrific bloodbath that had unfolded in the castle's corridors?

He involuntarily grimaced at the mere thought of being with a woman.

"Lee Minho," he declared with fierce determination, his eyebrows arching sharply on his forehead. "I know this is a huge request, but I need you to believe me when I tell you there is no one else. I haven't been with any man or woman, especially not like that. I... I have absolutely no desire to be with anyone at this moment in time... except you. Your very presence alone entices my heart to beat faster."

Minho remained silent for an excruciatingly long time, his mind a battlefield of swirling doubts and simmering emotions as he wrestled with the decision to trust the honeyed words spoken to him. His heart raced erratically, caught in the gravity of the poetic declaration that had so effortlessly tumbled from the other man's lips. Yet, skepticism gnawed at him like a relentless blizzard, clouding his judgment and casting a shadow over Jisung's supposed innocence and sincerity. It wasn't fair for him to be consumed by such feelings. They'd barely known each other, having met only a week ago, leaving a vast chasm of unspoken truths about their relationship. Still, here he stood, already seething with the possessiveness of a jealous lover.

"Trust doesn't come easily," he finally uttered, breaking the suffocating silence, his voice laden with the weight of shame as he bowed his head.

"And it shouldn't. Especially when you’re a king. Even I told you that. You were far too vulnerable with me when I was just a stranger who had moved into your home, but now, I am pleading with you to trust me." Jisung reached out with a steady hand, brushing Minho's hair aside to reveal his eye, his expression marred by a slight frown. "What I can tell that I assisted Felix in cleaning up a mess—an ordinary accident that he's very embarrassed about, so he prefers to keep it private. I took a shower in his room to avoid spreading anything down the halls and into my room, which would have just added to the cleanup." He teetered on the edge of truth, crafting his words with calculated ambiguity, his heart pounding with the fear that Minho would pry further, demanding every hidden detail he was so desperate to conceal.

Minho seemed to tense visibly, his eyes clouded with concern as he looked at him. Since Felix shared a room with his brother, he realized there was a chance Hyunjin might have been present or involved in the mysterious accident.

His voice was tinged with worry as he asked, "Is Jinnie okay?"

Jisung chuckled softly, a light, airy sound meant to reassure. "Yes! He’s fine. Don’t worry about it, seriously," he lied, trying to sound convincing. The Hyunjin he had witnessed was far from fine, but even Jisung was at a loss for answers as to why.

Minho cleared his throat shyly. "That’s it?" he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty, like a delicate note trembling in the air.

Jisung leaned in closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief and warmth as he gazed up at Minho with an endearing, almost childlike charm. He nodded with emphasis, the gesture full of sincerity and conviction. "Yes. That’s it."

Minho cleared his throat once more, this time more awkwardly, before whispering, "So, you were not with—"

"There is no one else, Lee Know. No other men or women..." Jisung reassured.

Minho felt a warm sensation, like the gentle glow of a hearth fire, spreading through his limbs at those words, and he immediately relaxed under Jisung's precious, earnest gaze. Relief washed over him, like a gentle wave caressing a calm shore, soothing his earlier anxieties. "

Well, now I feel like some possessive asshole…” he murmured, frowning slightly as he scratched behind his ear in a self-conscious gesture, as if trying to brush away his discomfort. “I’m sorry…”

Jisung's grin widened, his amusement evident as he found Minho’s behavior both endearing and irresistibly attractive. He’d never experienced the sensation of someone wanting to be with him exclusively before, and seeing Minho so worked up over the mere thought of him with another deepened his affection for this captivating, complex king, like a vine intertwining itself around a sturdy tree.

“There’s nothing to forgive, Lee Know. Besides… possessive asshole...? Kinda hot..." Jisung's voice was a soft murmur, dripping with playful teasing. He lowered his eyelids, casting a sultry gaze up at Minho, his lashes fluttering like butterfly wings, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

A fierce heat spread along Minho's body, simmering under his skin as his blood traveled south, responding eagerly to that seductive display. He chuckled, a sound rich with affection, and rolled his eyes, playfully nudging Jisung's shoulder with a gentle push.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he grumbled, the lightheartedness in his voice contrasting sharply with the warmth blooming across his ears, turning them a rosy shade.

Jisung smirked wickedly, his lips curling into a devilish arc, as he rose slightly, crawling up the length of Minho's body with a slow, deliberate grace. He pushed Minho gently back onto the bed, straddling him with a practiced ease, though he was careful not to put any weight down, maintaining a delicate balance between enticement and restraint.

“Hannie,” Minho scolded weakly, his voice tinged with a mix of exasperation and tenderness, the nickname slipping out like a whisper. He was acutely aware of the injuries they both bore, wounds that demanded caution and care. “We can’t. We shouldn’t,” he chastised softly, the words a gentle reminder of their shared vulnerability.

Han loomed over him with deliberate care, a grimace flickering across his face as the sharp ache in his ribs threatened to give him away. "Your body says otherwise..." he taunted boldly, grinding down with an agonizingly slow deliberation against Minho’s eager arousal. He lowered his head, letting his nose brush tenderly against Minho’s, stirring a desperate anticipation for a kiss that tantalizingly never came.

“Exclusivity, huh?" Jisung taunted with a sultry edge.

Minho let out an involuntary, frustrated whimper, his body arching off the mattress in instinctive desperation, seeking out even the slightest increase in contact, nodding fervently, drowning in his need for more.

“I want you to be mine and mine alone,” he gasped, a plea tumbling from his lips, his entire being aching for the advisor's intoxicating touch everywhere.

"Hmmm...." Jisung hummed, a sly smirk playing on his lips, his eyes glinting with a possessive fire. “And you, in turn, would belong to me and me alone as well? Only for me to kiss… touch… taste…?"

Minho nodded again, his eyes glazed with a wild, desperate delight. "Please," he whispered, voice so small and pathetic he hardly recognized it as his own. "You laid claim to my heart and soul the instant our eyes first met, Hannie,” he replied, his voice dripping with desperation, raw and unabashed.

Jisung felt an intense surge of emotion at the statement, like a tidal wave crashing over him, drowning him in an overwhelming flood of pure reverence. His chest throbbed with a warmth so fierce it rivaled any flame he could ever kindle. Never had he heard something so profoundly beautiful, so achingly sincere. He felt undeserving of such a confession, yet elation surged through him as the king's sweet words echoed in his mind.

He groaned deeply, a sound that resonated from the depths of his soul, as he leaned in to capture Minho’s lips in a tender, yet powerful kiss, careful of their lingering bruises. His lips quivered with the intensity of his emotions, and his hands roamed over Minho's tunic, tracing frantic yet soothing patterns, as if trying to etch this moment into eternity.

"In case it wasn't clear to you before, I was yours the moment our lips collided," Jisung murmured with fervor between urgent, searing kisses. "You ruined me for all others," he declared with unwavering certainty, his words punctuated by kisses growing deeper, more consuming. "Had we simply parted ways after our first time, every encounter with another would have been haunted by thoughts of you—your taste, how you filled me… the way your eyes watch me so intensely as I come undone, as if you’re studying a masterpiece... the tremor in your grip on my thigh as you release... those habitual, unconscious nibbles on my shoulder..." He chuckled softly, a sound laced with warmth and awe. "...every detail etched into my memory and forever seared into my skin," he vowed, as though forgetting Minho was an impossibility beyond reason.

Every shred of Minho’s hesitation and resolve disintegrated upon hearing those words, and he surged, pulling Jisung close, guiding him to lie back against the bed's edge. Jisung winced slightly at the shift, but Minho's steady hand on his thigh and a shake of his head halted him. Jisung obeyed as Minho meticulously arranged several pillows to cradle his as well as elevate his hips, ensuring comfort and access without pain. Minho then rummaged through the bedside table, returning with a determined gaze and a bottle in hand, ready to continue their impassioned journey.

"Is this okay?" Minho inquired softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he watched Jisung with a focused intensity.

Jisung nodded eagerly, his smile warm and full of affection, appreciating every deliberate motion Minho made, even if it caused the process to slow down. A fluttering swarm of butterflies danced in his stomach, anticipation bubbling as he caught sight of that familiar bottle approaching, promising what was to come.

With meticulous care, Minho helped Jisung undress entirely, the fabric slipping away to reveal tan, bare skin before Minho gently lifted Jisung’s ankle.

Standing before him, Minho pressed a tender kiss to the delicate skin, their eyes locked, the moment almost overwhelming in its beauty. Jisung lay beneath him, utterly pliable, his anticipation palpable as he awaited whatever form of release Minho was ready to grant. Minho’s lips continued their journey, trailing kisses up Jisung’s calf, the soft flesh tingling from the gentle graze of his teeth. His free hand caressed Jisung’s knee with a ginger touch before he pressed a firm, open-mouthed kiss to it, his tongue slowly tracing a path along the inner thigh.

The sensation caused Jisung’s hips to lift instinctively toward Minho’s mouth, seeking more, yet Minho remained composed, bending forward to continue his ascent until he reached Jisung’s pelvis. Jisung’s moan was soft, almost pitiful, a sound of yearning as Minho sank gracefully to his knees onto the floor, his gaze fixed intently on Jisung's most intimate areas.

The silence hung heavily between them, amplifying Jisung's sudden vulnerability and uncharacteristic self-consciousness under Minho's piercing gaze. A desperate whimper of anticipation slipped from his lips.

“Lee Know-ah!” Jisung whined with impatience, squirming frantically toward the edge of the bed, desperate.

Minho let out a low, teasing chuckle. “I’m trying to decide...” he mused aloud, as though genuinely perplexed by the options before him.

Jisung glared at the ceiling in frustration, cursing his injured ribs that thwarted his urge to drag Minho up the bed, to straddle his waist and ride him into the depths of ecstasy. He wouldn't protest, though; he craved Minho’s touch in any form he could get. “Decide wha—?”

Before he could utter another word, Minho snapped his legs shut, thrusting them upward in a swift motion before diving forward with a fervent intensity. His tongue traced a firm line from Jisung's entrance up to the sensitive underside of his sack, swirling with deliberate precision around his balls.

“Fuck!” Jisung shouted, his body convulsing as if struck by a lightning bolt of pleasure.

Minho recoiled instantly, concern etched into every line of his face. "Did I—?"

"Shut up!” Jisung barked, his voice commanding and urgent. In one fluid motion, he hooked his ankle around the back of Minho's head, pulling him forward directly into his spread cheeks again with an unspoken demand that brooked no denial.

Minho instantly complied with the command, a smug grin plastered across his face as he plunged back in, shamelessly lapping at the advisor's entrance. He reveled in the man's obscene reactions, his own excitement mounting. With his fingertips digging deliciously into the sensitive skin, he spread Jisung's cheeks even wider, his touch both commanding and tender. He fluttered his tongue expertly against the ring of muscle, moving with a teasing, torturous slowness. Jisung choked back a sob at the overwhelming sensation, his hips bucking wildly, desperately seeking more friction, more pressure, begging frantically for the intense stimulation he craved.

He had never quite fully relinquished control before, always maintaining some semblance of authority or influence in any sexual encounter. But now, with Minho, he was engulfed in an overwhelming wave of pure ecstasy, yielding entirely to Minho's desires, allowing him to explore every whim and fantasy. The act of surrendering so completely, with an unshakeable trust in Minho, was an exhilarating liberation, a feeling unlike anything he had ever experienced.

Chapter Text

After the water of the shower had done all it could to peel away the filth and the trauma clinging to them like a second skin, Felix dressed himself slowly, almost ceremonially, in a long-sleeved satin pajama set the color of cold moonlight, the matching robe cinched tightly around his waist as though it alone could hold him together. He moved with a leaden, sluggish gait through the winding halls of the castle’s lower levels, every step a monumental effort, each footfall echoing like a quiet cry in the cavernous stone corridors. His muscles throbbed in protest with every motion, bone-deep exhaustion dragging at his limbs while a brutal, pulsing ache radiated from his spine—pain blooming sharp and hot where he’d been violently hurled into a wall.

His head pounded with the unforgiving rhythm of a war drum, a headache so intense it blurred the edges of his vision and hollowed out his chest, leaving only a fragile core of emotion— grief—barely contained beneath the thinnest veneer of composure. The alcohol he had consumed earlier only served to amplify every twinge and pang, making him dizzy with self-awareness: the damp strands of blond hair clinging stubbornly to his forehead, bruises like storm clouds across his skin, the hollowed sockets beneath his eyes that betrayed just how utterly fatigued he truly was. And still, despite the exhaustion, something within him refused to rest. The unrelenting, gnawing riot in his stomach demanded to be soothed with sustenance.

Hyunjin had collapsed onto their shared bed the instant his legs gave way, leaving him clad only in his underwear, the remnants of the shower's steam still clinging to his skin like a second layer. His face was ravaged from crying, cheeks stained and lips bruised from the relentless pressure of biting down to stifle the sobs that Felix had earnestly urged him to let out with abandon. Exhaustion had claimed him with alarming speed as soon as he was cocooned beneath the blankets. Felix remained planted at his side, a sentinel in the storm, his eyes never leaving Hyunjin's form, tracking each rise and fall of his chest. Only when Hyunjin's breathing settled into a steady rhythm—soft, measured, a delicate whisper of tranquility amidst the tempest—did Felix dare to rise.

He crept from the room like a wraith, every muscle tensed to prevent the door from creaking or the floor from groaning beneath his bare feet. The thought of waking Hyunjin was unbearable. It wasn't fear of anger or interrogation that haunted him—it was the knowledge that the man had suffered e``nough. Felix refused to add even the slightest whisper to his burden. The idea of Hyunjin waking up, fragile and disoriented, reaching out only to find empty space, gnawed at Felix’s heart, propelling him to complete his mission with urgent speed. Hyunjin was teetering on the precipice of a dangerous abyss, a shattering so profound it could never be pieced together again.

He prayed—fervently, desperately—that Hyunjin’s sleep would be deep, healing, and undisturbed. But deep down, he knew the harsh truth. Such pain doesn’t vanish overnight. It had lingered with Hyunjin for years, only to erupt once more tonight.

The kitchen loomed vast and cold, a cavernous void akin to a mausoleum. The faint golden light leaking from the wall sconces offered the only semblance of warmth, casting twitching shadows that seemed to shift with every movement he made. He dared not turn on anything brighter. He couldn't risk it. Not when he felt so alien here—an outcast in a realm that despised his kind, every gesture scrutinized, every breath a defiance.

He reached the first cupboard, his heart pounding erratically like a trapped bird, fingers trembling as he desperately groped for something—anything—that might settle his churning stomach. The silence was thick and oppressive, pressing down on him with an almost tangible weight, until—

“Elf.”

The word sliced through the air, each syllable low and devoid of warmth, somehow carrying an accusatory edge that sent a chill down his spine.

Felix flinched so violently he nearly lost his balance, stumbling as he turned around with a sharp, startled gasp, his lower back slamming into the unforgiving edge of the stone counter. Pain shot up his spine like a bolt of lightning, a strangled cry escaping his lips before he could suppress it. His hand flew to the point of impact, rubbing the tender flesh in a futile attempt to dull the sharp sting.

From across the dimly lit room, perched languidly on a counter as though this were an entirely normal occurrence, sat Seungmin—his legs swinging back and forth with a casual calm, a box of crunchy snacks precariously balanced between his knees. His face bore the ghost of a smirk, but his eyes were cold and uninviting.

"You gave me a fright," Felix managed to say, breathless and shaken, his voice cracking slightly under the strain of his nerves. "And it’s Felix."

Seungmin didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink, just continued to chew slowly, replying with deadpan precision, “Elf.”

A muscle twitched in Felix’s jaw. He straightened his spine despite the lingering pain and leveled a wary look at the boy. "Have we started off on the wrong foot?"

“No,” Seungmin said plainly, taking another bite and speaking around the food with startling detachment. “We haven’t exactly properly met at all. We’ve just been in the same rooms in the midst of chaos.”

His tone was too flat. Too calm. As if he were reciting from a script written in disdain.

Felix bowed deeply, the act instinctual, ingrained—one of respect, even now. “Well, I’m Lee Fel—”

“I know,” Seungmin interrupted, eyes glinting. “Felix of Felora. A bit on the nose, wouldn’t you say?”

The barb wasn’t even masked. Felix blinked, briefly dumbfounded by the boy’s unapologetic insolence. What a puzzling man. But then, considering Hyunjin’s and Minho’s eccentricities, perhaps it ran in the family.

“Well, my mother—” he began.

“I don’t care,” Seungmin cut in with chilling apathy, his words slicing through the air like steel. He crunched down on his snack, then hopped from the counter in a single, smooth movement, his feet landing soundlessly against the stone floor.

“Why is it,” Seungmin said, approaching slowly, eyes narrowing in suspicion, “that the moment you arrive in Levanter, everything goes to shit? Minho falls under some love spell, Hyunjin gets bitten by a basilisk, and then we’re suddenly invaded by an army of mystery mercenaries? To my knowledge, Hyunjin hadn’t had an episode in months, and the day after your arrival... boom.”

He waved the box of snacks vaguely, as if it symbolized the absurdity of the chaos Felix had apparently wrought.

Felix inhaled sharply through his nose, his fists tightening at his sides as he exhaled in a slow, deliberate stream. He said nothing. There was nothing he could say to counter the bitterness in the boy’s voice. Nothing that would be believed, anyway.

He stood there, silent and aching, under the relentless scrutiny of eyes that pierced through him, recognizing only his bloodline and not the soul that had just held onto his brother beneath the shower stream, refusing to let go even as the water turned icy. Seungmin could not see the man who had pushed himself beyond his limits, fighting with every ounce of strength to rescue Hyunjin from the grasp of a despicable assailant—a Feloran, no less. He didn’t see the spirit that was overwhelmed by exhaustion, desperate to return to Hyunjin's side, shaken by the knowledge that every shadow might yet contain another monster, another secret, another wound to be twisted open.

All Seungmin could see, it seemed, was a pretty elvish puppet sent to upend a domain— an emblem, a banner, and the ancient bile rising on instinct.

And in some ways, Felix could not blame him for it. Sometimes Felix also wondered if everything he touched was doomed to decay. Sometimes he just wanted to scream that the only thing he wanted was for everyone to live a long, pain free, happy life, but the words snagged in his throat, stuck behind the years of having to be the perfect face of Felora, and instead he just gripped the countertop until his knuckles whitened.

Still, he refused to let his spirit break. Not in front of this boy, not after all he’d endured. Felix forced himself to meet Seungmin’s gaze, holding steady, refusing to cower or turn away.

“Correlation does not equal causation. I didn’t ask your king to go to bed with my friend and I most certainly didn’t ask to be wed to your abrasive brother, little less tell him to go take out his frustrations on a venomous serpent,” he spoke with a forced calmness, even though every fiber of his being screamed to unleash a torrent of profanities at the boy in pent up frustration.

Seungmin's eyes narrowed to sharp slits, scrutinizing every word with piercing intensity. "Why are you here… elf?" he demanded, his voice barely more than a whisper, though it carried the weight of a shouted accusation.

Felix didn't hold back as he exasperatedly launched into his explanation. "Your eldest brother somehow managed to convince my parents that his military’s commander was the perfect bachelor for their beloved son. Thus, they shipped me off to a foreign land I knew nothing about, to live here in an undesired marriage and to bear children like a broodmare," he said in one long, sarcastic breath, his words dripping with bitterness. His eyes flashed with scorn as he smiled falsely and curtsied mockingly, the gesture exaggerated and laden with irony. "And yet, individuals like yourself insist that I somehow wormed my way into your home for some nefarious purpose, as if there couldn't possibly have been a much wiser, safer method to execute such a scheme. As if I willingly chose to share my life with your hot-headed, foul-mouthed brother who harbors such hatred for my kind. I couldn't care less about the prejudices you hold against me because I am Feloran, but do not take me for a fool. If I were indeed the conniving trickster your people believe my people to be, surely there would be far more cunning ways to infiltrate your kingdom without placing myself directly in a dragon's line of fire," Felix spat angrily, his voice sharp and cutting. He vented his frustrations, his eyes blazing with defiance as he glared steadily at the man before him, the tension in the air palpable.

A heavy silence settled between them, like a thick fog that refused to lift. Seungmin's eyes bore into Felix's, his expression unreadable, devoid of any discernible reaction to Felix's outburst. Felix nearly considered apologizing for his sharp words, aware that Seungmin likely held onto beliefs instilled in him since childhood. Yet, he reminded himself that at Seungmin's age, there was no room for such excuses. If Minho, under pressure, could work to unlearn ingrained prejudices, then surely, any of these men could do the same. Especially after Felix and his advisor rushed into battle to defend the kingdom they now called home. How could anyone believe they might seek its destruction?

Felix sighed deeply, the weight of the situation pressing down on him, and turned away to open another cupboard. He rummaged through the shelves, searching for tea bags to settle his uneasy stomach. Suddenly, a soft chuckle broke the silence, coming from Seungmin behind him.

Felix paused, closing the cupboard doors with a quiet click, and turned around, curiosity piqued. Was the laugh genuine or something else? Seungmin's small grin suggested sincerity, his gaze warm but tinged with hesitation.

"Not bad," Seungmin murmured quietly, his voice carrying a hint of admiration or perhaps playful teasing. "You just might be able to hold your own around here after all." His tone was almost approving, though it could easily have been mockery. "I can almost see why Hyunjin likes you."

Felix struggled to contain a surge of incredulous laughter that threatened to escape, his chest tightening with disbelief. The mere suggestion that Hyunjin had any such feeling for him was utterly absurd. Felix was convinced, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Hyunjin harbored not a shred of positive sentiment toward him. Their shared vulnerability beneath the shower's spray had been born of purely desperation and trauma.

Felix's expression twisted into something between a grimace and a bitter smile.

“Your brother loathes the very air I breathe. He merely tolerates me as of this instant, likely because his wounds and exhaustion over the past week have finally rendered him temporarily docile," he retorted dismissively, shaking his head in frustration. He resumed his search for tea bags, his fingers sifting through the cluttered cabinets.

When no sound came from Seungmin following his retort, Felix paused, his hands resting on either side of the stove where various pots hung overhead on wrought iron hooks, swaying slightly in the dim kitchen light. He glanced back over his shoulder at the young lord, his gaze questioning.

“Why would you believe otherwise?" he inquired, curiosity lacing his words as he tried to decipher the mysterious thoughts of the other. “You’re not about to try to convince me that his rude remarks are some form of flirting or endearment, are you? Because we are not children,” Felix warned, his tone carrying a hint of incredulity.

The boy raised both palms in a gesture of surrender, shaking his head slightly, his expression earnest. “I know my brother. You’re a Feloran sharing his room, his bed even I presume, and you’re still alive," he defended seriously, his voice steady and unwavering.

Felix quirked a brow skeptically, lips curling into a doubtful smirk. “Is that supposed to comfort me—knowing your brother would murder someone based on heritage alone, regardless of their character? Isn’t that against your king’s preachings?” he replied, the skepticism in his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

Seungmin scoffed, a soft, mirthless laugh escaping him. "It was more of an expression, and you may be right. Maybe he does hate you, but I can guarantee that no matter how much hollow vitriol Hyunjin spits at you, if he truly saw you as an enemy—an actual threat to Levanter, his family, his friends—you would be ashes in the wind at this point. Perhaps your saving grace is that the one person he hates the most above all is himself. He has allowed you into his space, meaning he trusts you. Consider it one of the greatest honors, because his trust does not come easily. Hyunjin likes a lot of people, but he trusts very few,” Seungmin concluded, his voice tinged with a rare depth of insight and sincerity. “How you managed to earn that trust so quickly is beyond me."

Felix felt a strange flutter in his chest at those words, though he tried to suppress it. The idea that Hyunjin might actually trust him seemed impossible, yet Seungmin's certainty was unsettling in its conviction.

Felix push himself and settled atop the cool stone of the kitchen island, legs dangling and arms crossed tight across his chest. His dark eyes studied the younger man, curiosity sparking beneath a layer of frustration.

“Why do your people despise Felorans so fiercely?” he asked, voice low but urgent. “Minho publicly married his brother to me, preaching tolerance—yet some of you regard me with such contempt.”

Seungmin’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he set down his snack box with deliberate care. The casual air he'd carried moments before evaporated, replaced by something raw and bitter.

“Maybe pick up a book once in a while,” he replied sharply.

Felix let out a sharp exhale and rubbed his temples. The ache behind his eyes was relentless. “I’ve read every chronicle of the wars with Levanter,” he shot back. “Those conflicts happened centuries ago—long before the last of those tyrants died. Yet here we are, trapped in a cold war for over three hundred years. Summit after summit, treaty after treaty, and never a single battle—just an endless cycle of failed negotiations.”

He pushed himself to his feet, footsteps soft on the stone floor. “Now my parents and your brother have struck some… strange accord. I married Hyunjin, and am doing my best to learn your customs and live among your people—yet you treat me as if I’ll unleash ruin on your kingdom.” His chest rose and fell with quick breaths. “My family’s entire legacy is peace. And still, some of you can’t even use my name.”

Seungmin stood in brooding silence, his eyes like storm clouds as he meticulously dissected every word in his mind. His dark lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, giving him an aura of intense concentration. Finally, with deliberate precision, he broke the silence and spoke.

“Felix,” he said, voice devoid of emotion, each syllable crisp and cutting. “You really should visit the library sometime—study our history.”

He moved away, his steps measured and unhurried. "I'm not your tutor," he said, straightening his sleeves. "But if you're going to live here, there is so much you should learn."

He paused at the threshold of the door, one hand resting on the doorframe. For a moment, his sharp features softened as he looked back. "Do not take his trust for granted," he said quietly, his voice carrying a weight of something deeper. "He’s fragile, but he’s trying. Don’t break him.”

The words hung in the air like a blade suspended by a thread. Felix felt his breath catch, the simple statement cutting through all his assumptions and defenses.

Seungmin's voice dropped to a menacing deadpan, his eyes

narrowing to dangerous slits. "Hyunjin may have the reputation of being the most ruthless being in all of Levanter, but should you harm my family in any manner, you will quickly learn that is far from the truth. It is me you'll have to answer to and trust me when I say that Hyunjin is the lesser beast."

With that, Seungmin slipped away, the door swinging shut behind him. Felix remained motionless, the hush of the kitchen pressing in.

So much for bonding with his brother-in-law, he thought, yet he couldn’t fault Seungmin’s fierce loyalty—especially after glimpsing just how fragile Hyunjin’s exterior could be without its armor.

Felix tiptoed back into the dimly lit room, struggling to catch his breath, chest heaving with the effort, with a tray balanced with careful precision in his hands. On it were crackers adorned with smooth cream cheese and vibrant slices of fruit, accompanied by a steaming cup of lemon ginger tea that was already working wonders to soothe his unsettled stomach. The room was bathed in a gentle, amber glow, thanks to the warm oil lamp perched on the nightstand beside Felix’s side of the bed. The commander lay soundly beneath the covers, his deep, rhythmic breathing indicating he had remained asleep throughout Felix's brief absence, a fact that filled Felix with relief.

The trek from the kitchen to his chambers paired with his aching was far more exhausting than he had anticipated. Felix's legs trembled beneath him as he carefully set the tray on the nightstand, his hands shaking slightly from the exertion. The lightning scar across his chest throbbed with each labored breath, and he found himself gripping the edge of the nightstand for support as a wave of dizziness washed over him. The events of the evening had taken more of a toll than he'd realized—the magical exertion, the emotional upheaval, the physical confrontation. His body was finally demanding payment for what he'd put it through.

With deliberate slowness, Felix settled onto the bed, folding his legs beneath him and drawing the soft covers over them. He gently lifted the tray to place in front of him, taking care not to disturb the peaceful atmosphere. Hyunjin lay facing him, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. His face, usually marked by the tension of unspoken worries or the remnants of nightmares, appeared uncharacteristically serene. There was no restless tossing, no furrowed brow—just the calm visage of a man at peace, a rare sight that Felix cherished deeply, even if he often entertained thoughts of tossing a rock at his skull in moments of frustration.

Felix shifted slightly, a grimace flitting across his face before placing a whole cracker into his mouth, chewing deliberately, each crunch seeming excessively loud in the quiet room. He cringed at the noise, casting a wary glance at Hyunjin, searching for any signs of stirring as he chewed cautiously. The flesh around the commander's eyes were still slightly puffy from earlier tears, and his skin bore a subtle pink hue, likely a lingering effect from their prolonged stay in the shower.

Hyunjin lay utterly exposed and defenseless, a fragile figure in the dim room, and Felix recalled Seungmin's words with a newfound intensity. The commander must have possessed some level of trust to permit him into his private quarters, to share his bed, to let himself drift into unconsciousness with Felix next to him. Yet, Felix's mind had been clouded with suspicion, convinced there was a hidden agenda lurking beneath the surface, perhaps a plot to slay the elf the moment his guard was down.

He snapped his attention forward, his gaze finally taking in the array of paintings adorning the room, each piece bursting with color and detail. The intricate knick-knacks scattered throughout seemed to pulse with stories untold, and a bookshelf stood proudly beside his desk, laden with volumes of wisdom and mystery. He devoured his snack absentmindedly, his mind now consumed by the vivid history and undeniable character of this room, a treasure trove he had been blind to until this very moment.

Then he caught sight of eyes in his peripheral vision, piercing and unblinking, watching him. Felix whipped his head around in shock, only to lock eyes with Hyunjin, who was now wide awake and staring intently. Felix froze, his heart pounding, a cracker dangling precariously from his open lips. They were locked in that moment, Felix stunned by Hyunjin's abrupt shift from sleep to startling awareness.

Felix slowly withdrew the cracker from his mouth, the motion painfully deliberate, and offered a sheepish smile as if he'd been caught in the act of some grave transgression. His hand trembled slightly as he gestured to his tray, his voice a hushed, urgent whisper. "I wasn't feeling well... this usually helps... I'll clean up every single crumb; I promise," he vowed quickly, his words laced with a palpable nervousness. He had no idea if Hyunjin was particular about his space, but caution seemed the only option. The air between them was electric, buzzing with uncertainty and unspoken tension.

Felix noticed Hyunjin's eyes lingering on his mouth, prompting an instinctive swipe of his lips with the back of his hand, worried that there might be a trace of cream cheese smeared there. His gaze cautiously returned to Hyunjin, who was now looking at him with an unexpected softness, a gentle warmth that transformed his usually stoic eyes into something almost tender. It unnerved Felix, this sudden shift of emotion piercing through the cold stone facade.

Hyunjin parted his lips, as if to speak, yet remained silent, maintaining an unwavering eye contact that seemed to search Felix’s very soul. The silence stretched between them, thick and laden with unspoken words. Felix felt a creeping realization that perhaps Hyunjin was silently asking for a bite, but he hesitated, not wanting to assume too much or impose on the commander.

He waited, hoping for some verbal cue or confirmation, his brow furrowing slightly as none came. Instead, Hyunjin merely tilted his head in a way that conveyed impatience, his silent expectation clear. Felix, understanding the unspoken request, reached for a cracker from the snack tray. With a polite smile and a nod, he extended it towards Hyunjin. Yet the man didn’t reach for it with his hand. Instead, he opened his mouth wider, an expectant gesture that was both commanding and intimate, his eyes never wavering from Felix's.

Felix's eyes narrowed in confusion as the air around him grew stifling, and for a split second, he considered telling the commander he was insane for thinking the elf would hand-feed him. But a fierce voice inside him urged against selfishness, reminding him that after the night's harrowing events, the commander needed comfort more than anything else. Reluctantly, Felix swallowed his pride, reached, and delivered the morsel directly into the man's eager mouth. The commander chomped down greedily, eyes alight with satisfaction as he chewed and swallowed with palpable contentment.

Amusement bubbled in Felix's chest, escaping as a chuckle. The sight of Hyunjin acting like a demanding, wordless child, expecting to be fed, was strangely endearing. "You're going to choke eating while laying down, commander," he remarked, humor laced with genuine concern as Hyunjin lay comfortably on his side.

Hyunjin shrugged off the warning with a nonchalance that made Felix roll his eyes in resigned exasperation. He offered another cracker, which disappeared with the same ravenous enthusiasm. Next, he picked up a plump strawberry, pressing it gently against the commander's parted lips with two fingers. Suddenly, Hyunjin lunged, snapping his teeth shut around the fruit, barely missing Felix's fingers as he yelped, startled, and jerked his hand back in shock. Felix's eyes widened in horror, only to see Hyunjin's face break into mischievous laughter, his eyes glinting with smug satisfaction as he bit into the strawberry, maintaining an unyielding gaze.

"Are you a child?" Felix snapped, irritation flaring as he rubbed his fingers, where Hyunjin's teeth had come perilously close.

Hyunjin shrugged with a dismissive air, his lack of interest palpable, as he opened his mouth, waiting with an almost regal patience for the next morsel.

“Haven’t you ever heard the saying ‘don’t bite the hand that feeds you’?” Felix admonished sharply, his eyes narrowing as he picked up another piece of strawberry and defiantly popped it into his own mouth.

Hyunjin let out a derisive snort, his head shaking with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. “Have you forgotten I’ve raised dragons?” he retorted, his voice laced with an interest that dared Felix to question him further.

Felix blinked, taken aback, his lips pursing in thoughtful realization as the truth settled in. “You’ve been bitten by them?” he asked, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity and a hint of disbelief.

"Obviously," Hyunjin replied with a flat, almost mocking tone, as if explaining the most self-evident of truths. He pointed to the faded scar etched through his eyebrow, a stark testament where hair dared not grow.

Felix’s brow furrowed with a mix of awe and sympathy at the proximity of the scar to Hyunjin’s eye. “You were bitten in the face by a dragon and lived to tell the tale?” he questioned, his voice brimming with amazement.

“He was only about the size of a small mare at the time, and it was mostly an accident,” Hyunjin admitted, his voice carrying a nonchalant bravado that belied the severity of the event.

“Mostly?" Felix pressed, his face a canvas of perplexity. "How does one accidentally bite someone in the face?"

Hyunjin’s hands became a whirlwind of animated gestures as he launched into an enthusiastic recounting, his passion for his pet wyverns undeniable.

“When I was younger, I made the mistake of eating some pork in front of Geomyong. Oddly enough, it’s his absolute favorite, and he lunged for it just as I was about to take a bite. Honestly, their teeth are so sharp you barely feel the bite at first because it slices through the nerves too quickly. I didn’t even realize how bad it was until I couldn’t see through the blood pouring into my eyes. But I could see long enough to witness Minho eat shit while trying to get to me as fast as he could. That was fucking hilarious,” he recounted, laughter booming from deep within him.

Felix shuddered, unable to suppress a grimace but there was something oddly endearing about Hyunjin's casual recounting of such a traumatic event. 

"But it got horribly infected afterward, and that was no laughing matter. I had a damn catheter for two weeks," he continued, still finding amusement in the memory. “Ever had a tube shoved into your cock hole?” he asked bluntly, with neither shame nor preamble. "Let me tell you... fuck that. I'd choose a dragon bite over that torture any day." His tone was unusually animated, his eyes dancing with a light, casual air as he spoke as if he were discussing the color of the sky.

Felix couldn't help but laugh, a hand flying to his mouth to stifle the sound. He felt a wave of relief knowing the man was, for now, out of distress, even if the conversation was brutally candid.

Perhaps this type of conversation wasn't entirely foreign to him. After all, he and Jisung shared everything with each other, and Jisung never hesitated to dive headfirst into such taboo topics. Or maybe it was the rare and fleeting moment of relief, a blessed reprieve, where Hyunjin's eyes didn't pierce him with the cold, calculating gaze of an adversary.

He was determined to seize this opportunity. Encouraging the conversation, he forced himself to imagine Hyunjin as just another friend, like Jisung. With unreserved candor, he replied, "No, but I’ve had a scope up my ass," delivering the words with a casualness that belied the awkwardness of the admission. His tone was light, as if they were merely exchanging humorous anecdotes over coffee, despite the peculiar intimacy of the topic.

Hyunjin snorted, genuinely entertained, his laughter a sound that warmed Felix to his very core.

"A scope?" he inquired, his voice tinged with curiosity. "Like, a spyglass?"

Felix furrowed his brows, contemplating how to explain the concept. "Similar," he began, "but smaller. It's kind of long and thin, designed for intricate examination. Physicians use them," he clarified, gesturing with his hands to emphasize the slenderness of the instrument.

Hyunjin's expression shifted to one of thorough intrigue, a mix of amusement and mild horror playing across his features. His eyes widened slightly, and his lips curled into a half-smile as he asked incredulously, "You've had one of those in your ass? Why?"

Felix nodded vigorously, eyes wide as if recalling a scene from a horror film, which sent Hyunjin into fits of laughter—the exact reaction Felix had hoped for.

“Believe it or not, I had a rebellious streak in my youth that terrified my father. Jisung and I would sometimes sneak off to taverns late at night. It was purely innocent fun—for me, at least. I just loved the company of the patrons and losing myself in the music,” Felix attempted to explain, though his words only deepened the commander’s amused confusion.

The soft glow of lantern light flickered and wavered across the room, casting playful shadows that seemed to dance on the walls. Hyunjin slowly sat up, his movements deliberate and unhurried, as he arranged a few plush pillows behind him. He reclined against them, creating a makeshift throne of comfort.

His dark eyes narrowed in genuine puzzlement. “What does that have to do with anything?” he asked, voice smooth but edged with curiosity.

Beside from him, Felix balanced a bowl of golden, salt-streaked crackers on his lap. He lifted one to his lips and bit down—only to pause midway after Hyunjin’s inquiry, cheeks ballooning like a startled chipmunk. Crumbs drifted onto his lap as he swallowed, then fixed Hyunjin with an indifferent gaze, forgoing all his manners in the presence of Hyunjin who also seemingly had none.

Through a mouth half-full, he shrugged. “Well, your brother was offered a pure partner for his beloved commander—completely untouched and untainted. My father wasn’t so certain I actually met that standard, thanks to that streak of rebellion, so he demanded the physician confirm my… purity. Thankfully, I was sedated, so I didn’t feel anything.” He shrugged again, as if reporting the weather, then reached for another cracker.

Hyunjin bolted upright, sitting directly beside Felix. His astonished gaze flicked from the elf’s calm expression to the scattered crumbs on the sheets before meeting the his gaze again. “Yongbok…” he whispered, breathing the name like a question. “You’re… what d—… eh?” He stammered, as though the confession were too strange to register.

Felix’s brow furrowed in mild curiosity at the commander’s disbelief.

“Well, biological Feloran men—we have slightly different anatomy than others. I mean, obviously. We can literally bear children,” he chuckled, the sound echoing softly against the stone walls. “So there’s this—”

“I know all of that!” Hyunjin snapped, cutting him off with a sharp exhale. He tilted his head slightly forward, glaring at Felix through dark lashes, his voice edged with incredulity. “Your father paid a doctor to essentially sodomize you just to ensure you were a virgin? Do you not think that’s seriously fucked up? As if that even mattered! It didn’t matter, right? Minho didn’t require a virgin, did he?” Hyunjin's voice grew increasingly agitated as he spoke, his eyes burning with indignation.

Felix tilted his head, genuinely perplexed. In the Feloran court, virginity confirmations were as common as royal banquets. He brushed crumb dust from his robe. “No, but my purity was a point of pride for Felora. He wasn’t about to present anything less for this alliance.”

Hyunjin’s jaw dropped, his lashes fluttering as he stared. For a moment, he seemed frozen, as if deciding whether to laugh or recoil. Then he sagged back onto the cushions, both palms covering his face. “Fuck…” he muttered, voice muffled against his hands. He dragged them down exasperatedly before rubbing his temples as though trying to erase the very thought. “That’s… so fucked up.”

Felix hummed softly, a spark of genuine curiosity lighting up his wide, innocent eyes. The term ‘sodomize’ that Hyunjin had used was puzzling to him. Hyunjin seemed to regard the situation with a gravity that Felix couldn't quite grasp, as if equating the doctor's actions with the past transgressions of the knight against Hyunjin. But to Felix, they were worlds apart. Or perhaps, he had never delved deeply into the nuances and complexities of the matter, having always accepted it as a simple matter of duty without much critical thought.

“And so what if you were just a top? How would they prove anything then?” Hyunjin pressed, his tone laced with disbelief.

Felix blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

Hyunjin's eyes narrowed as he tried to decipher the enigma of Felix's silence, his mind racing with a storm of bewilderment and frustration.

"You know... the one putting it in?" he clarified, gesturing vaguely with his hands.

Felix blinked again, caught in a swirl of thoughts. He knew about tops and bottoms, yet he found himself wavering. The question lingered in his mind, pulling him in different directions, as he realized he had never truly given it much thought before.

“I guess there are loopholes?” he ventured with an uneasy chuckle. “But really, does it matter now?”

Hyunjin shoved some pillows aside, laying flat onto his back, one forearm resting over his brow. After a long moment of silence, he exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing.

“I don’t give a fuck if you’re ‘pure’ or not,” he admitted quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose. He glanced to where Felix sat, eyes softening as he watched him crunch the last cracker.

Felix looked back at him. His expression was open, the crumbs sparkling like tiny stars against his bottom lip.

“But I am,” He said between bites, voice carrying an edge, as if constructing a shield with words, a subtle hint of defiance woven in.

Hyunjin sighed again, this time in resignation.

“Yeah, I know you haven’t fucked anyone before,” Hyunjin rambled grumpily, staring directly at the ceiling, his words directed towards Felix, but sounding as if he were arguing with an invisible entity above him. “But that dated notion—that virginity equals purity—is bullshit. You could fuck an entire kingdom and still be a good person. On the other hand, someone could abstain their whole life and be a genocidal tyrant. Labeling someone ‘impure’ or ‘tainted’ just because they’ve been with someone outside of wedlock? Complete fucking bullshit. You’ve either done shit or you haven’t. You’re no less of a person if you have.”

For a fleeting moment, Felix experienced a sharp pang in his heart, sensing that Hyunjin might have been striving to defend himself above all else. The dim glow of the room cast long shadows, adding a somber weight to their conversation. Felix realized that after tonight, it was clear Hyunjin had engaged in acts that burdened him with profound shame. A strong urge surged within Felix to reassure Hyunjin that he needn't feel compelled to defend circumstances beyond his control.

But just as he was about to speak, Hyunjin suddenly turned his head towards Felix, and a subtle, half-smile began to play at the corners of his lips. It was a gesture that transformed his face into something undeniably handsome, illuminating his features with a gentle charm.

“So yeah, I don’t care about any of that shit. Virgin or not, Yongbok, I dislike you all the same.”

Even as the words escaped his lips, there was no mistaking, given the playful glint in his eyes and the mischievous curl of his mouth, that it was Hyunjin’s way of jesting. Felix momentarily basked in the warmth of the lightheartedness, a rare respite. For once, there was no sharpness in his tone, no bitterness, no walls erected in defense.

Felix chuckled, the sound bright in the intimate glow of the room, and gently nudged Hyunjin’s shoulder in mock reprimand. Hyunjin’s lips curved into a genuine grin, something so striking and sudden that Felix nearly forgot to swallow. The transformation was like watching a winter pond fracture with the first thaw—unexpected, a little dangerous, and exhilarating in its beauty.

“I’ve graduated from ‘elf’ to Yongbok, I see? Progress,” Felix observed with a fondness that danced in his eyes, the amusement almost a tangible force that electrified the air between them. He felt giddy, the banter like a heady wine that left him dizzy with anticipation.

Their laughter faded, replaced by a charged silence as they locked eyes, a magnetic pull that Felix broke with effort, the tension like a living thing constricting the space around them.

“Can you ride?” Hyunjin’s voice sliced through the silence, the abruptness of the question catching Felix off guard, nearly causing him to choke on the very air he breathed. He coughed violently, his eyes narrowing into a heated glare at Hyunjin, who watched with a mix of concern and amusement.

Once Felix regained his composure, the commander’s lips curled into a knowing smirk, the amusement in his eyes deepening as he realized the cause of Felix’s reaction. His laughter rang out, rich and unabashed, as he clarified, “Horses. Not cock.” The words were punctuated with a loud snort of laughter, the crude humor hanging in the air between them.

Felix rolled his eyes, attempting to dismiss the commander’s vulgar jest, but traitorous mental images surged forth unbidden. His imagination betrayed him with vivid clarity: Felix, atop the bed, straddling the commander who lay beneath him. Hyunjin's hands gripped his hips with a possessive strength, guiding Felix as he moved with a deliberate rhythm. Their moans filled the space around them, a symphony of need and desire, as Felix’s fingers dug into Hyunjin’s chest, each movement drawing soft whimpers from the usually brash commander, glistening with sweat, vulnerable beneath him.

No, Felix commanded himself, forcing his mind away from the image, away from the imagined feel of Hyunjin's touch, the whispered praises that lingered in the air like forbidden incantations as Felix moved languidly, each bounce a defiance of control. Absolutely not.

He was definitely not thinking about that right now, nor imagining the sound of Hyunjin murmuring sweet words under his breath as Felix rode him unhurriedly—NOPE.

Felix couldn’t believe his own thoughts. His heart thundered, and a crimson tide crept across his freckled cheekbones. He blinked rapidly, willing the forbidden images in his mind to vanish. A soft, embarrassed sigh escaped his parted lips as a heat pooled low in his stomach. He realized he hadn’t answered Hyunjin’s question after his mental short-circuit.

Apparently his silence didn’t matter; a subtle smirk danced at Hyunjin’s lips.

Felix cleared his throat, forcing the words out like pulling teeth. “Of course. Why do you ask?” He shifted in his cross-legged position on the silk sheets, each rustle echoing in the hush. Hyunjin’s gaze followed his every move, and Felix felt his cheeks warm further, ashamed of himself.

Hyunjin hummed, thoughtful. “Minho is going into the city in three days for the usual: appearances, meetings, errands, and other king shit. He wants to present you to everyone so they’ll stop whispering conspiracies about the mysterious elf now living within our walls.”

Felix’s brow furrowed. “What about Jisung?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

“What about him?” Hyunjin retorted casually.

“Well, he’s doing much better but I don’t think he’s in any condition to be riding just yet—”

“Who said he was invited?” Hyunjin interjected, unmoved.

Felix was momentarily taken aback by the bluntness of Hyunjin's response. He stared at the commander, mouth slightly agape, trying to process the implication.

“Jisung is my personal advisor," Felix countered, his voice tinged with indignation. "Not only that, but if Minho’s making a statement about accepting Felorans,” Felix pressed, “shouldn’t he also present his lover—especially if there’s a chance—”

Hyunjin scoffed, a playful glint in his eyes. "Slow down there!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with amusement.

Felix straightened his posture, his chest rising defiantly as if to emphasize his words. "Whether you like it or not," he declared with unwavering conviction, "Minho is madly smitten with Jisung." His eyes sparkled with certainty, even though the notion was hard for even himself to accept.

Hyunjin shrugged nonchalantly, his expression one of casual indifference. “Kings have consorts... affairs,” he remarked, his voice laced with a hint of cynicism. “That doesn’t mean they flaunt every person they share their bed with before their subjects.”

Felix’s breath hitched slightly, a sign of his surprise. “To my understanding, they care for each other beyond mere carnal desire,” he replied, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “Perhaps we’ll soon be guests at their wedding.” His words were accompanied by a small, almost childish huff of triumph.

Hyunjin's laughter rang out, bright and carefree, but it quickly faded as he registered the stern expression on Felix's face. The realization hit him, and he cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other. “Yongbok,” he began gently, his voice a low murmur, “Han Jisung is—”

“A bastard! Yes, I know,” Felix interrupted sharply, his voice tinged with frustration. “Your king said it didn’t matter—”

“I was going to say he’s an elf!” Hyunjin cut in with a scoff, his eyes widening in disbelief. The words hung in the air between them, laden with the weight of unspoken truths and the tension of their conversation.

Felix’s eyes flared with intensity, a storm brewing in their depths. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, fists clenched beneath the smooth sheen of silk fabric, as if the very act of holding back his anger required all his strength. "Is this where you tell me Minho is just as prejudiced as you?" he demanded, his voice a sharp edge cutting through the tension. "Using Ji for his body?"

Hyunjin’s jaw tightened, the muscles tensing visibly beneath his skin. He averted his gaze, his eyes flickering away as if seeking refuge from the confrontation. "There are things beyond your understanding," he replied, his voice low and controlled, hinting at depths not easily plumbed.

Felix pressed on, his voice dropping to a low, icy whisper that cut through the tension like a blade. "Did you just call me stupid?"

"I didn't say that!" Hyunjin exclaimed, his exasperation etched across his face, eyes wide with frustration. "Minho wouldn't use someone like that! But there are expectations—he must marry, father children—"

"Why can't he do those things with Ji?" Felix demanded, his gaze fierce, challenging, as if daring Hyunjin to provide a reason that could justify the inevitable pain and heartache.

Hyunjin ran a frustrated hand through his hair before he let out an exasperated sigh. "Because, goddammit, Yongbok! Mother!" he finally erupted, his voice cracking with the weight of what he was about to reveal. "Because of Mother!"

They sat in the suffocating silence that followed, their breaths coming in uneven gasps as if the very air around them had thickened. Felix stared down at the ground, his mind reeling as he tried to process the gravity of this new revelation.

Hyunjin's voice softened, yet it was laced with a bitter undercurrent that betrayed his simmering resentment. "She’d sooner see the entire kingdom reduced to ashes than allow her son to marry an elf—no matter how noble, or caring, or brilliant that person might be." His words hung heavy in the air, a testament to the impossible barrier erected by a mother's unyielding prejudice.

Felix remained silent for a moment, the weight of Hyunjin's confession pressing heavily against his chest like an anchor. The room seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with unspoken emotions.

"Yet, she let you marry me," he finally said, his voice unwavering and firm, cutting through the silence like a blade. He locked eyes with Hyunjin, whose dark irises seemed to swirl with a storm of emotions. Felix's gaze was steady and unyielding, every muscle in his slender frame tense, as if preparing for an unseen battle.

A sudden flash of something akin to grief washed over the commander's face, a fleeting moment where his steely demeanor faltered and his taut jaw relaxed for the briefest heartbeat. The flickering torchlight caught the glistening bead of moisture that formed at the corner of his eye, shimmering like a tiny star before he quickly concealed it behind his stoic facade.

"I am not her son," Hyunjin rasped, his voice a low murmur as he ran a hand through his damp hair. The room seemed to hold its breath as he spoke. "She did not birth me… She may call me her son, her boy, but all my life, she’s made certain I’ve never forgotten that I am merely her pledge… her pawn… her… weapon." His words were laced with bitterness, each dripping with spite as they pierced the stillness of the room. "Minho, on the other hand," he continued, his voice tinged with a weary resignation, "he's her prized possession—her baby, her legacy." The weight of his confession seemed to press down on him, and he turned onto his side, the fine linens rustling softly beneath him. Closing his eyes, he appeared to be burdened by the harsh truth he had just laid bare.

A wave of pity surged through Felix, settling heavily in his chest like an anchor. He yearned to explore the depths of Hyunjin's emotions further, yet he could feel Hyunjin retreating into himself, like a turtle withdrawing into its shell. Not wanting to jeopardize the fragile progress they had achieved, Felix held back, respecting the unspoken boundaries.

"So then why would Minho pursue Jisung if it’s a dead end?" Felix mused aloud, his voice tinged with curiosity and skepticism. His fingertips traced absentminded patterns on the quilt, following the intricate stitching as if searching for answers hidden within the fabric. Confusion furrowed his brow, deepening the lines etched across his forehead. The question lingered, a persistent ember smoldering in his throat, begging for resolution.

Hyunjin let out a weary sigh, his breath escaping in a puff of resignation as he gazed up at Felix with a vulnerability that had never been revealed before now. "I'll be honest, Yongbok," he began, his voice tinged with a mix of admiration and exasperation. "Minho is one of the smartest people I know, yet he can also be the biggest fucking idiot I’ve ever met at times." A humorless chuckle slipped from his lips, echoing the complexity of his feelings. "He's an optimist, a dreamer. He goes about life acting as if everything will just magically fall into place—and the most frustrating part? It usually does for him. That only fuels his tendency to rely on luck."

Felix genuinely grasped the idea, recognizing that Jisung was not only the most brilliant individual he had ever encountered but also had an uncanny ability to transform into a complete buffoon at times. In that sense, Felix mused, perhaps he and Minho were perfectly suited for one another.

Hyunjin paused, his gaze lingering nothing as if air held the echoes of a day long past.“Mother hates animals of any kind,” he began, his voice tinged with the weight of old memories. “When we were children, Minho found a stray kitten and everyone warned him that if he brought it home, she was going to kill him and the cat. He didn’t give a shit, all he cared about was nursing the thing back to health. And wouldn’t you know it—Mother, by some fucking miracle, allowed him to keep the damn thing as long as it never ventured into her private chambers. But, obviously, an elf and a kitten are two vastly different creatures. He knows it will all come crashing down the moment she finds out about Jisung.”

A sharp pang pierced Felix's chest at the thought of Jisung's impending heartbreak, and the familiar knot of guilt within him tightened like a vice. Determined, he attempted to slide off the bed with urgency, his heart pounding in his chest. “Jisung deserves the truth. He shouldn’t be trapped in this—”

With a swift, almost desperate motion, Hyunjin seized the prince’s pantleg, his grip firm and unyielding. “Wait.” His voice trembled, laced with a raw edge of pleading desperation. “Please… don’t.”

Startled by the sudden shift in atmosphere, Felix paused, his heart pounding in his chest. He carefully lowered himself back onto the edge of the mattress, the soft fabric creasing under his weight. As he did, the tautness in Hyunjin's posture gradually unwound, a visible sigh of relief escaping him as he finally released his grip on the prince’s trousers. A shadow of regret danced across his dark eyes, reflecting the inner turmoil he felt.

“I know this sounds selfish,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, heavy with emotion. “And you’re right—no one deserves to be misled in this way. But please… can it wait? Minho… he’s different… the most content I’ve ever seen him ever since he met your friend. You cannot blame him for wanting to enjoy this blissful ignorance while he can, if just for a little while longer,” He swallowed hard, his throat tightening with conflicting emotions. “Besides, Jisung may already be aware of the situation and its implications. And you’re traveling with Minho soon. Believe me, you don’t want him in one of his episodes during the journey.”

Felix’s brow furrowed deeply, a shadow of concern clouding his features. “Episodes?” he echoed, his heartbeat quickening as a thread of fear wove its way through his voice.

Hyunjin lowered his head, a flush of shame coloring his cheeks. “Not like…” He paused, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper, “not what I did to you. Minho has phases where he becomes, like… a hollow shell of himself. He stops eating, barely speaks, never smiles or laughs… just stares out a window for hours at a time. Sometimes days. Sometimes, it comes on randomly, but often heartbreak or grief triggers it. But it’s like a mute grief—no tears, just an apathy. It cripples him physically and mentally. We dread those episodes as much as my own, but they happen.”

He met Felix’s gaze once more, his eyes revealing a raw vulnerability that lay bare in his expression. There was an unexpected sense of peace as he discussed his brother’s troubles, a calmness that took Felix by surprise. In this moment, he was entrusting Felix with intimate details of his life, placing his faith in the elf. It was as if he were opening the doors to his innermost thoughts, allowing a glimpse into his personal world and embracing the risk of being vulnerable.

“So please… give it a few more days. A week, if you can.” The candlelight danced in his eyes, reflecting a strange mixture of hope and desperation.

Felix sighed deeply, his emotions a tumultuous blend of conflict and empathy stirred by the commander’s earnest plea. He offered a small, reluctant nod, the weight of his decision evident in the slight furrow of his brow. “Fine,” he agreed, his voice tinged with resignation. “One week. But only because I want the journey into the city to go smoothly.” His words hung in the air, underscored by the unspoken determination to ensure everything proceeded without a hitch.

It felt downright ruthless to allow things to advance without warning, only to shatter Jisung later when his mother would inevitably step in, putting a stop to their forbidden relations. Yet, he conceded that enduring one week was preferable to confronting the Levanter people alone, with a debilitated king moping in his chambers, tormented by a shattered heart. He also refused to endure a sleepless night, fraught with anxiety over the matter, so he plunged back into their earlier spirited banter.

"After all, I'll be away from you for an entire day, so that's already a good start," Felix teased with a playful glint in his eyes, his voice light and full of humor.

Hyunjin let out a snort of laughter as he reached for the tray of snacks, his fingers deftly selecting a half-peeled pear. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he tossed the fruit directly at the elf. The pear thudded softly against Felix’s neck before slipping perfectly into the collar of his shirt. Felix let out a startled squeal, his face a comical mix of surprise and amusement as he squirmed, desperately plunging his hand inside his shirt to retrieve the wayward fruit. Hyunjin erupted into a fit of laughter, the sound echoing joyfully through the room as he clapped his hands in delight at the success.

"Good riddance," he teased back, his eyes mere slits as he grinned brightly in a way that Felix had never seen before.

It was… unsettling, only because it sent an unexpected flutter through Felix's chest.

When Felix finally retrieved the fruit, he hurled it back at Hyunjin, who caught it with ease, immediately devouring it, his movements fluid and confident, like a practiced dancer effortlessly completing a routine.

Felix gaped in astonishment, his mouth hanging open as he nearly scolded the man for daring to eat the piece of fruit that had brushed against Felix’s bare skin,

Yet those eyes, deep and captivating, and that rare, enchanting smile—like a hidden treasure revealed—held a profound power over him. Something within him simply refused to utter even the slightest negative remark to the man lying beside him in this very moment, even if purely a jest.

“Go back to sleep, Commander,” he whispered, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

"Aye aye, Yongbok," Hyunjin chuckled quietly, the name rolling off his tongue with unexpected tenderness.

Chapter Text

The following morning, Hyunjin was gone before the first rays of dawn pierced the horizon—no note, no sound, not even the whisper of retreating footsteps.

Felix, on the other hand, remained cocooned in his blankets, bewildered by Hyunjin's ability to muster the strength and energy to rise so early, especially considering the mental fatigue they both endured, not to mention the throbbing headache that surely accompanied a hangover if Hyunjin had consumed as much as Felix had the night before.

Jisung brought him breakfast later that morning, his face alight with an almost ethereal glow that seemed to emanate from within. The sight was both endearing and concerning—endearing because Felix had never witnessed his friend so utterly radiant, and concerning because he feared what would happen when reality inevitably crashed down upon them like a merciless storm.

"You look awfully chipper," Felix muttered, squinting against the morning light streaming through the windows as Jisung set down a tray laden with fresh bread, honey, and steaming tea.

"And you look like shit," Jisung quipped, grinning as he perched on the edge of Felix's bed. His eyes danced with mischief, but there was something more—a softness, an almost dreamlike quality to his expression that made Felix's heart ache with guilt.

"Let me guess, you defied the doctor’s orders regarding no physical exertion," Felix teased, propping himself up on his elbows despite the protest of his aching head.

Jisung's cheeks flushed a vibrant pink, his eyes darting away as he absently traced patterns on the bedspread, his shit-eating grin growing impossibly wider. "For your information, I didn’t exert myself at all. Lee Know, however, fuck… He exerted himself quite thoroughly." His shoulders shook with barely contained laughter. "Felix, I've never... I mean, the things that man can do with his—"

"Stop!" Felix threw a pillow at his friend's head, though he couldn't suppress his own laughter. "Have mercy on my poor, innocent mind!"

"Innocent?" Jisung scoffed, dodging another pillow with practiced ease. "You're the one giving foot jobs under tables." He raised his eyebrows suggestively, his grin turning wicked.

Felix stilled, his blood running cold. "How do you—"

"Oh, stop! Don’t panic!” Jisung chuckled, crawling up the bed to sit beside Felix properly. "I overheard Hyunjin and Minho speaking early this morning. They thought I was asleep. And I was until Minho raised his voice— pissed about Hyunjin walking out on you at the party,”

His expression sobered slightly, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "So how exactly did that escalate into the mess I cleaned up?”

Felix's stomach twisted into knots as he watched Jisung's expression shift from playful to concerned. The memory of the horrific night came flooding back—Sir Augustus's vile words, Hyunjin's desperate pleas, the sickening sound of bones shattering. He had hoped to compartmentalize the trauma, to lock it away and pretend it hadn't happened. But seeing Jisung's earnest face, knowing he had risked himself to help them, Felix felt the weight of his silence crushing down upon him.

"I can’t," Felix said quietly, his voice catching as the gravity of his promise to Hyunjin settled over him. "I gave my word."

Jisung's expression softened immediately, understanding flickering in his eyes. He reached out, placing a gentle hand on Felix's shoulder. "And I respect that." His voice carried a warmth that made Felix's chest tighten with emotion. "But tell me—who was it?”

Felix's jaw clenched, his hands fisting in the bedsheets as the memories threatened to overwhelm him again.

“I don’t kn—“

“Bullshit,” Jisung interrupted firmly. "I found the ring, Felix." His voice dropped to a whisper, but his eyes blazed with protective fury. "I know they were Feloran, and a knight even. But only twelve knights in Feloran history have been awarded a ring like that. I recognized the emblem immediately." Jisung's voice was low, barely audible, as if he feared the walls themselves might be listening. “Who was it?”

Felix couldn’t meet his friend's eyes, a weight settling in his chest like a stone. "He hurt him, Ji," he whispered, the words barely audible. “I didn’t mean to go that far, but I couldn’t let him—" Tears welled in his eyes, threatening to spill over. "He was— Hyunjin—“

Jisung's face paled and he shook his head fervently, hands clutching Felix's in a tight, grounding grip. "No, no, no. Felix, stop. I know you. I know, without a shadow of doubt, you did what you had to. You don’t have to tell me details. I just need to know who it was. Should someone come looking for him, we need to know what story to tell. Our stories must align." He took a shaky breath, his voice growing more urgent. "If this man held such a high position in Felora, people will notice his absence. We need to be prepared."

Felix nodded slowly, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Sir Augustus," he breathed. The name tasted like poison on his tongue, bitter and vile.

Jisung froze immediately, his face going ashen as the blood drained from his cheeks completely. "Sir Jang Augustus?" he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if speaking the name too loudly might summon the man's ghost.

Felix nodded grimly, watching as his friend's expression shifted from surprise to something far more complex—a mixture of disgust, rage, and what looked disturbingly like understanding.

"Good riddance," Jisung said with venom, his voice low and dangerous.

Felix's eyes widened in shock. "What?"

His stomach flipped end over end, dread rising at the mere thought that Jisung may have been another one of Augustus's victims.

Jisung remained eerily silent for a moment, jaw clenched and working, eyes fixed somewhere in the middle distance which only served to send Felix spiraling into guilt and despair. A sob clawed its way up Felix's throat, and he fought to keep his face composed, but upon looking directly into Jisung’s eyes, the dam broke.

Felix’s voice pitched, shrill and childlike, slicing the hush between them. “Did he—? Ji, did he ever touch you? Please, I need you to tell me. Tell me he didn’t—”

His friend’s head snapped up, the words coming out in a hiss, “What? No! Well, not like that. No. I mean—he beat me to a pulp more than once, but—”

That did nothing to soothe the panic flaring up inside Felix’s chest, the image of his friend splayed on the floor, gasping for breath, one eye swollen shut while Sir Augustus glowered above, boot poised to strike again.

“W-Why didn’t you tell me?" Felix's voice was watery and pained. "You should have told me, Ji— I could have had him discharged. Banished. Why didn’t you—!” He fumbled for the words, lost in a sea of anger and sorrow, but Jisung just squeezed his hands tighter, grounding him in the present.

"Felix. Stop it." Jisung didn't look away, not for a second. There was steel in his eyes now, old scars glinting behind the familiar warmth. "That's not how it works. You know that. Now breathe.”

Felix felt the heat in his cheeks, shame mixing with helplessness until it was nearly suffocating. He tried to focus on the soft press of Jisung's hands, the way his thumb smoothed absent circles over Felix’s trembling knuckles, but still the thought of his ignorance stung. He was the prince of Felora, and yet he'd let his closest friend suffer violence in silence—more than that, his family handed power to the monster who'd inflicted it. The pressure in his chest was so dense it nearly choked him, but still he tried to breathe, shallow and rapid, until bile spiked at the back of his throat and he lurched forward. Jisung was ready, one hand on his shoulder and the other snatching and dumping a dish from the breakfast tray just in time for Felix to retch into it. He heaved dryly once, twice, the world spinning in dizzy parallax all the while.

"Easy," Jisung whispered again and again, rubbing circles between his shoulder blades for several minutes until the spasms faded and Felix could pull in air without sobbing or shaking. “It’s not your fault, Felix.”

Felix clung to the words, desperate to believe them despite every instinct to the contrary. “It is, though,” he croaked, voice raw even after the heaving passed. “I should have seen it. I should have stopped it.”

Jisung shook his head fiercely, a lock of brown hair falling into his eyes. "No.” His voice was surprisingly steady—even peaceful, as if this particular wound, while fresh for Felix, had scabbed over years before for Jisung. “It was just… the way things were, but it doesn’t matter now, okay?” He managed a smile—a real one, even if it was small and oddly fragile—but Felix saw the loss shining underneath it, a faint crack running through the set of his jaw, the impenetrable shield that rarely ever dropped. He wanted to apologize again, but he could tell Jisung’s limits had already been taxed. There was only so much vulnerability the world allowed them before it demanded composure, so Felix wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and forced himself to straighten his spine. He blinked away the hot tears and tried to pull on the old, familiar mask of princely detachment, but it fit poorly now—a borrowed ancestor’s crown atop a child’s head.

Jisung seemed to sense this, leaning in just close enough to knock their shoulders together. “I love you, dumbass," he said, voice a purr of familiar affection. "So don’t you dare lose yourself. If anyone’s to blame, it’s the bastard who won’t ever touch another living thing again." He nudged Felix again, gentler this time, like a cat butting its head to an open palm.

Felix tried to smile, but his lips trembled from the aftershocks of crying, his vision blotting Jisung’s adorable, insistent face into radiant and formless light. “I love you more, idiot,” he whispered, so quietly it felt less like words and more like a trembling uncoiling in his chest, slow and steady, the way grief slips by degrees into acceptance.

That night, Felix was overwhelmed with a deep sense of worthlessness as he lay cocooned in his bed, desperately trying to lose himself in a puzzle from a book plucked off Hyunjin’s bookshelf. He barely managed to eat, only forcing himself to drink water to counter the dehydration from his relentless tears. Despite Jisung's constant presence, offering his silent yet bored support, Felix felt an aching solitude gnawing at him. It was the absence of Hyunjin that intensified this loneliness, the hope that his friend would face this tumultuous storm with him.

At last, Hyunjin quietly stepped into the dimly lit room late at night, long after dinner was just a distant memory. The air was still, save for the faint echoes of the evening. He discovered Felix curled up in the bathroom, a scene both tender and heart-wrenching. Felix was huddled in the bathtub, his body drawn tightly into itself, legs clutched close as if seeking comfort from within. The tub brimmed with soapy water, bubbles cascading gently over the edge, surrounding Felix like a delicate cocoon. His silhouette appeared fragile, a delicate figure cradled in the water's gentle embrace, the soft glow of the bathroom light casting a warm halo around him.

Felix didn’t notice Hyunjin at first—not over the static in his own skull, over the relentless self-commentary—not until the tub’s sharp porcelain edge gave a jolt as Hyunjin’s palm connected with its rim.

Hyunjin was crouched low, knee pressed against the floor, hand steady on the tub margin as if poised to haul a drowning man from the sea. He wore a leather vest of armor, his arms streaked with soot and dried blood—though not, Felix realized, his own. He looked wild and feral and so heartbreakingly alive, as if thrown straight from a battlefield into Felix’s dimly lit little sanctuary. The contrast was jarring.

They stared at each other for a long, wet moment. Hyunjin’s gaze traveled from the gathering of soap suds at Felix’s collarbones to the red-rimmed gleam of his eyes.

Hyunjin said nothing. He simply held Felix’s gaze with a silence more communicative than any battle cry, and, with the faintest tremor of movement, extended a hand. It hovered, awkward and unsure, for a second too long. The steam rose in ghostly plumes between them; the waterline inched closer to the trembling edge of the tub.

Felix found himself reaching up, every muscle in his forearm contracting with a nervous electricity. Their hands met over the caustic glare of the warm light.

Hyunjin’s hand was rough, callused, and Felix felt a familiar, shame-inducing comfort there. The grip was not so much a grasp as a mutual anchoring. It shackled his with surprising gentleness, the thumb circling softly at the heel of Felix’s palm, as if gauging whether to take hold or let go. For a few heartbeats neither moved.

Despite Hyunjin being covered in grime, blood streaks marking his skin, and sweat glistening under the dim light, Felix paid no mind to his disheveled appearance. He didn’t care if Hyunjin’s palm stained him with iron stench or left invisible scars or carried with it some grit of the outside world he could never wash off. He needed this living proof that is was possible to survive even the worst nights.

“Battle?” Felix murmured, his voice goose-thin and hardly his own. He blinked up at Hyunjin, not expecting a reply. He only wanted to name the thing that returned Hyunjin smelling of ruined earth and sweat and victorious rot.

Hyunjin’s lips twitched, that almost-smile that meant he was about to make a joke, but he thought better of it at the last second. He shook his head, looking away. “No—Drills. Sparring. Simulation,” he finally said. His voice was coarse with near-exhaustion. He swallowed, the prominent sinews of his neck flexing, and for the first time it seemed as though Hyunjin might slump, might allow himself a moment to rest. Instead, he simply released a deep, shuddering exhale.

Felix realized, with a tightness in his chest that surprised him, how Hyunjin wore pain like another layer of skin—how he scrubbed blood and memory from his hands, then moved forward as if neither had ever existed. He envied him, and it was an ugly, childish jealousy, the kind that gnawed at the inside of his ribs, all sharp corners and self-loathing. Felix felt betrayed by the simplicity of Hyunjin’s resilience, by the fact that, after all that had happened, he could just… spar, sweat, and return as if the events of the night before had been little more than a bad dream.

“How do you do it?" Felix whispered, his voice barely audible above the gentle lapping of water against porcelain. "How do you just... get up and go on?" He hadn't meant to ask the question, certainly hadn't meant for it to sound so broken, so accusatory.

Battle was a harsh symphony of chaos, but it was a melody that didn’t haunt Felix. In the heat of combat, adrenaline coursed through his veins, dulling the sharp edges of reality. Despite the cacophony of clashing swords and the cries of the fallen, Felix found solace in the simplicity of survival. That night, even after ending the lives of several strangers, sleep came easily, as if the weight of his actions dissolved with the setting sun.

This, however, was a different beast entirely. It was an insidious sensation, like drowning in slow motion, suffocating under the invisible burden of his deeds. This was not a battlefield filled with faceless, nameless soldiers, but a personal confrontation with someone who had once traversed the same corridors and inhaled the same air. The stranger soldiers had been mere phantoms in the fog of war.

Felix felt no remorse for ending the man's life; instead, he was consumed by a deep, searing grief for what once was—the man he believed he knew. He was tormented by the loss of innocence, shattered by the vile revelations of the man's heinous crimes. The world he had known was obliterated, leaving him to mourn a reality that could never be reclaimed.

What troubled him the most was not guilt tethering Felix to humanity, but the chilling absence of it and a haunting desire to repeat the act, savoring each moment with deliberate cruelty.

The monster he had vanquished was no stranger, but a man who, in childhood, had hoisted Felix upon his shoulders to pluck ripe fruit from the branches of towering trees. Yet now, Felix's mind was consumed with visions of resurrecting this man through forbidden magic, only to exact a gruesome vengeance by clawing out his eyes with unrelenting hands. The overwhelming satisfaction that washed over him at the memory of Augustus's final moments was a dark tide that terrified him more than the violent act itself.

He wondered what his parents would think if they could see him now—their precious prince, their carefully cultivated yet failed heir, sitting in bathwater fantasizing about torture. Would they recognize the son they had molded with such meticulous care? Or would they see only the monster he was becoming, the darkness that had always lurked beneath the surface?

Hyunjin's grip tightened almost imperceptibly, as if he could sense the dark spiral of Felix's thoughts. His free hand moved to press lightly against Felix’s upper back, encouraging him to slowly rise up from the water. Felix's knees shook as he stood, water cascading down his golden skin in rivulets that caught the lowlight like liquid gold. Hyunjin's touch remained steady, guiding without forcing, his calloused fingers a stark contrast against the smooth expanse of Felix's wet skin. Hyunjin reached for a nearby towel, wrapping it around Felix's shoulders with unexpected tenderness, his movements precise and careful as if handling something infinitely precious.

"I’ve never had any other choice," Hyunjin finally answered, eyes drifting to Felix’s chest where the burn scar spread like a spiderweb had already began to fade.

Felix felt exposed under that intense gaze, but not in the way he might have expected. The vulnerability wasn't about his nakedness—it was deeper, as if Hyunjin could see through to the darkness coiling within him, the shadows that had begun to take root in places he'd never thought to guard. Felix clutched the towel tighter around his shoulders, not from modesty but from a desperate need to hold onto something solid.

"I’m sorry…" Felix began, his voice barely a whisper.

"For what?" Hyunjin's voice was low, rumbling like distant thunder. His hands remained steady, one at Felix's elbow guiding him from the tub, the other hovering at the small of his back—not quite touching, but present.

"For..." Felix faltered, his throat constricting around words that felt too heavy for his tongue. “I shouldn’t have bothered you. I was just trying to get under your skin and if I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have left and maybe you wouldn’t have ran into him and he wouldn’t have tried—“

"No." Hyunjin's voice cut through Felix's spiraling words like a blade through silk. His grip on Felix's elbow tightened, not painful but firm enough to anchor him. "Don’t do that.” He warned.

Felix's eyes snapped up to meet Hyunjin's, startled by the sharp edge in his voice.

"It wouldn’t have erased the past, now would it?" Hyunjin's voice wavered on the edge of a storm, softening just enough to coax Felix toward the bed, yet retaining a steely firmness that left Felix teetering on the brink of uncertainty, unable to decipher if simmering anger lay beneath the surface. “Shit happens. That happened and now it’s over and he’s gone forever. Problem solved," Hyunjin said, his words clipped as he guided Felix to sit on the side of the bed.

Felix flinched at the bluntness. "Is it truly that simple for you?"

Hyunjin's expression darkened, the shadows beneath his eyes deepening as he crouched in front of Felix. "No," he admitted, the word raw in his throat. "But I learned a long time ago that dwelling on shit is a luxury not afforded to people like me." His hands settled on either side of Felix on the mattress, not touching him, but framing him in a way that felt oddly protective. "But if you want to waste your life away moping, have at it."

Felix could see the exhaustion etched into every line of Hyunjin's face, the way his shoulders sagged slightly despite his rigid posture. There was something almost desperate in the way Hyunjin held himself upright, as if allowing himself to truly rest might mean collapsing entirely.

Felix's mind raced, trying to decipher the cryptic sting behind Hyunjin's words, "people like me." It gnawed at him, a relentless echo that refused to fade, leaving him restless and consumed by the need to uncover the truth hidden beneath that sharp remark. Was it because he was a commander? A man raised in the shadow of his brother? Or something deeper, something tied to the rage that sometimes overtook him like a second skin?

He pulled the towel more snug around himself, purposely obscuring any possible view of certain parts of his body that might distract from the gravity of their conversation, suddenly hyper-aware of his nudity. He couldn't help but notice the way Hyunjin's gaze deliberately avoided lingering on his exposed skin, maintaining a respectful distance despite their proximity.

There was an odd comfort in simply being seen by him—not the polite, carefully constructed version of himself he presented to the world, but this raw, broken thing trembling beneath a damp towel. Hyunjin didn't flinch away from the ugliness of it, didn't offer empty platitudes or false comfort.

The silence stretched between them, filled only by the distant drip of water from the faucet and the soft rustle of fabric as Felix adjusted the towel. Hyunjin's presence was grounding in a way that surprised him—not because of any words of comfort, but because of the simple fact that he was here, solid and real and refusing to let Felix disappear into the void of his own making.

"Hyunjin,” Felix's voice was barely a whisper, fragile as spun glass.

“Yongbok?” Hyunjin’s eyes searched his face, the use of his birth name falling from his lips like a prayer, soft and reverent in a way that made Felix's chest tighten.

A faint ghost of a smile flickered across Felix's lips, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. “You smell like hell," he finished, the words carrying none of the bite they might have held days ago. Instead, they were almost fond, tinged with the kind of gentle teasing that spoke of familiarity hard-won.

Hyunjin's mouth quirked upward at one corner, the expression transforming his face in that fleeting, unguarded way that still caught Felix off guard. It was like watching storm clouds part to reveal a glimpse of sun—brief, but all the more striking for its rarity.

"You smell like flowers and self-pity," Hyunjin retorted, though the words lacked any real venom. He reached out, almost without thinking, and brushed a damp strand of hair from Felix's jaw. The gesture was so gentle, so unexpected, that Felix couldn’t help by bask in the levity on the moment.

“You better not get your filth on me," Felix murmured, but there was no force behind the threat.

Hyunjin chuckled as he straightened up, wincing slightly when his knee popped. "Too late," he said, nodding toward the smudge of dirt his fingers had left on Felix's cheek.

Felix huffed, pouting as he watched Hyunjin disappear into the adjoining bathroom. The door remained open as usual, allowing Felix to hear the rustle of fabric as Hyunjin presumably began to shed his clothing.

He gingerly got up and strolled over to the closet, reaching for his most comfortable robe, its soft fabric a familiar comfort against his skin. With unhurried steps, he made his way to the bathroom to wash the dirt smudged across his cheek, and stood before the mirror. In the reflective glass, he noticed Hyunjin behind him, stripped down to just his underwear, meticulously unfastening the leather bracers from his forearms with deliberate care. Dark bruises marred Hyunjin's back, spreading like ominous storm clouds gathering on the horizon. Felix couldn't resist tracing the intricate pattern they formed, each bruise a shadowy testament to battles fought and endured.

He dampened a cloth, letting the cool water seep into the fabric before bringing it to his face to gently wipe the smeared grime from his face. His movements halted momentarily when Hyunjin, with an almost careless grace, discarded his bracers, the soft thud they made barely breaking the quiet of the room. His gaze followed Hyunjin as he rolled his shoulders, the muscles rippling under his skin with fluidity akin to water, each movement a testament to the strain and effort of the day. Hyunjin's fingers then found the waistband of his underwear, preparing to shed yet another layer as he sought comfort and release from the knots of tension that burdened his weary body. Felix's eyes widened slightly, and he suddenly became intensely interested in a speck of dirt on the mirror that required his immediate attention.

Felix scrubbed at his cheek with perhaps more vigor than necessary, the cloth rough against his skin as he tried to focus on anything other than the soft rustle of fabric hitting the floor behind him. The mirror betrayed him, catching glimpses of movement in his peripheral vision that made heat crawl up his neck.

Hyunjin slowly crawled into the bathtub, the porcelain still warm from where Felix had only moments before emerged. Felix turned sharply, his eyes widening in disbelief as he watched Hyunjin settle into the recently vacated space, traces of soap and oils from his bath still lingering on the surface.

"You're not serious," Felix said, watching as Hyunjin sank into the water with a grimace.

Hyunjin leaned his head back against the rim of the tub, eyes closing as he submerged himself to the shoulders. He hummed noncommittally.

“Hyunjin, that’s gross,” Felix protested, his voice pitching higher with indignation. "You can’t bathe in my dirty water."

Hyunjin huffed a quiet laugh, not opening his eyes. "Why? Did you piss in it?"

Felix's mouth fell open in shock, heat flooding his cheeks. "Ew! No!" He sputtered.

"Then what’s dirty about it?" Hyunjin's eyes slowly fluttered open, locking onto Felix with a relaxed, half-lidded gaze that seemed to pierce through him. "Yongbok, you realize I’ve been a soldier the majority of my life, right? Most people think that means constant battle, but actual combat is just a small fraction of it. The real work is in the endless traveling and setting up camps. Do you think there’s fresh, running water for showering and baths when you're stuck in the middle of a mudflat, a dense jungle, or an arid desert?"

Felix wrinkled his nose, a gesture of mild distaste, but he couldn’t deny the undeniable logic in Hyunjin’s words. Yet, there was something about the nonchalant manner in which Hyunjin had slipped into the water Felix had just vacated that felt strangely intimate, almost personal in an unexpected way.

"You think this is gross?" Hyunjin continued, his voice steady and unbothered. "Try imagining a hundred men, all covered in layers of grime, wading into the same river, eel shit squishing between your toes, and tape sealing every open wound to fend off all the flesh-eating bacteria. I’ve even had a leech latch onto my sack before. Then there are times when there’s no bodies of water at all, just one large communal bucket for washing up. In those times, you’d better fight to be first in line or there’s no point in bathing at all. I’ve gone longer without washing than I’m willing to admit. This right here, this is a luxury." He closed his eyes again, letting his head loll back, a satisfied sigh escaping as he sank deeper into the warmth.

Felix winced at the imagery, but found himself oddly fascinated. There was something strangely captivating about these glimpses into Hyunjin's life—raw and unvarnished truths that painted a picture so different from the sheltered existence he'd known in Felora.

In an effort to reveal a personal connection, he spoke with a level tone. "Ji and I used to share baths together when we were little," he said, his voice carrying a hint of nostalgia. The memory of warm water splashing around, laughter echoing against the tiled walls, and the innocence of childhood camaraderie flickered briefly in his mind.

Hyunjin cocked an eyebrow, his expression shifting into something unreadable. "And now he shares baths with the King of Levanter," he said, the words hanging heavy in the air between them. “Did you tell him about Mother?” He asked, his voice deceptively casual, though Felix could detect the undercurrent of tension.

Felix shook his head. “You asked me not to." The words came out softer than intended, tinged with something that might have been regret.

Hyunjin's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, his fingers drumming against the edge of the tub. "I figured you would tell him anyway." His voice carried a note of surprise, as if Felix's cooperation was the last thing he'd expected.

Felix wrapped his robe tighter around himself. The silk was cool against his skin, and it did little to warm the chill that had settled deep in his bones. "I won’t tell you again, Hyunjin—" he said quietly. "I don't break my oaths."

The air between them grew thick with unspoken words. Felix felt suddenly exhausted, the weight of the day pressing down on him like a physical force. Without waiting for Hyunjin's response, he turned away, his movements abrupt as he stepped out of the bathroom.

He crossed the room with quick, light steps, the silk of his robe whispering against his skin. The bed looked impossibly inviting, a sanctuary from the tumult of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. Felix slipped beneath the covers, pulling them up to his chin as he curled onto his side, facing away from the bathroom opening.

Felix listened to the distant sounds of water sloshing as Hyunjin finished his bath. The rhythmic dripping gradually slowed, followed by the gentle padding of bare feet against stone. He kept his eyes fixed on the wall, watching shadows dance across its surface as candlelight flickered. His mind drifted through the haze of exhaustion, not quite asleep but suspended in that fragile space between wakefulness and dreams.

The mattress dipped behind him, and Felix felt his breath catch in his throat. He remained perfectly still, his muscles tense despite his efforts to appear relaxed. The familiar weight of Hyunjin settling onto the bed sent a shiver through Felix that had nothing to do with cold. The silence stretched between them, filled only by the quiet rustle of fabric as Hyunjin adjusted his position.

Felix could feel the heat radiating from Hyunjin's body, close enough that the fine hairs on his arms stood on end before breaking the tension lightheartedly.

“Keep your eel-shit-squishing feet off of me tonight or I will break every one of your toes,” Felix grumbled, a slight smile curling the corner of his mouth as he burrowed deeper into the pillows.

A low chuckle rippled through the dark. Hyunjin rolled closer, not touching, but close enough that Felix could feel the disturbance of air with each shift of the man’s weight. Suddenly Hyunjin’s toes brushed across his calf, although far warmer than usual and Felix jerked instinctively, twisting over with a glare to see Hyunjin grinning and unrepentant, eyes glimmering in the candlelight with some private victory. Felix was helpless to maintain his scowl the effort lasted mere seconds before he crumpled and twisted back around to hide. When it happened again, although it wasn’t uncomfortable, Felix jerked away again before whipping onto his back and sitting up hastily, grabbing his pillow and swatting Hyunjin square in the face. The impact made a satisfying thwack, which Felix punctuated with an imperious, “Asshole.”

Hyunjin caught the pillow mid-recoil, one hand snapping closed around the fabric with a commander's instinct for disarming a threat. He yanked it out of Felix's grasp and clutched it tightly to his chest before turning his full body away, laying on his side with the pillow cuddled tightly in his arms, feigning going to sleep.

Felix reached for the pillow, but Hyunjin only clutched it tighter, burrowing his chin into the stuffing with the stubbornness of a child refusing to share a favorite toy.

“Give it back," Felix demanded, trying to wrench the pillow free, but Hyunjin only responded by curling more tightly around it, his tall form somehow compacting into a fortress of sinew and smug defiance.

“Mine now,” Hyunjin declared, his voice muffled by the pillow, eyes already closed as if he could will himself instantly to sleep. There was a childish joy in the way he clung to it that made Felix’s lips twitch with reluctant affection.

“I need that!” Felix whined, rolling his eyes, but there was no real irritation in the words. He attempted once more to reclaim it, but Hyunjin wouldn’t budge. It was absurd, wrestling for a pillow with a grown man, a commander no less, in the dead of night, but Felix was too tired to care about appearances. Eventually, Felix huffed in annoyance and gave up and simply flopped down beside him, arms folded crossly, conceding defeat. His head hit the mattress, and the two lay there in deadlocked détente, Hyunjin spooning a hostage pillow while Felix sulked in the shallows of the bedsheets.

After a moment, Felix resolved to play dirty and stealthily snaked his hand beneath the blanket, groping until his fingers found the vulnerable curve of Hyunjin’s ass, covered only by a thin lay of fabric. A split-second calculation, and then—Felix pinched, hard.

Hyunjin yelped, jerking his hips forward, the sound halfway between a bark and a strangled squawk, and Felix seized the moment to rip the pillow triumphantly from Hyunjin’s loosened grasp.

Felix cackled in victory, hugging the spoils to his chest and rolling away to guard his conquest. He felt Hyunjin shift in the sheets behind him and felt anticipation bubble up in his stomach, a wild thrill he hadn’t expected. He braced himself for retaliation, and boy was he unprepared when Hyunjin’s hands closed around Felix’s lower thigh with unerring accuracy, hauling him—pillow and all—toward the center of the bed with a single, fluid motion. Felix shrieked, but immediately broke into giggles, legs thrashing in a desperate attempt to maintain even a fraction of dignity. Hyunjin snatched the pillow again before pressing it to Felix’s face and while, days ago, this would have scared the life out of Felix, the lack of force—the absolute absence of real violence, only unrepentant play—made Felix laugh so hard.

The loud laugh was muffled, yet it vibrated with a strange hopefulness. He was also easily able to turn his head to the side for air.

Hyunjin unceremoniously plopped his entire body atop Felix’s casually, his head resting on the pillow that was atop Felix’s.

Felix grunted and whined indignantly.

“Hyunjin!”

Hyunjin grinned, mumbling. "Don’t start a battle you can’t finish." He shifted his weight deliberately, squashing Felix further, not that it hurt—it was more the shock and the humiliation of being handily overpowered but there was also a strange comfort to it as well, a sense of safety in the familiar press of muscle and warmth. It was like being buried beneath a weighted blanket, all the world’s terrors successfully held at bay, if only for a moment.

“You started it!” Felix hissed, the words dissolving into laughter. He squirmed, but Hyunjin just hummed contentedly, refusing to budge. “Hyunjin!”

Hyunjin low chuckle vibrated through Felix's entire body, amplified by the pillow sandwiched between their heads. Felix became hyper aware of the fact they were completely flush together, Hyunjin in only his underwear and Felix in literally nothing but a robe which had certainly not remained totally in place. He felt the coarse fabric at his collarbones, but his thighs and hips and most of his belly were bare, Hyunjin’s body weighing across him from shin to sternum. The heat in Felix’s skin was not embarrassment or shame but something hotter, brighter, as if his body were a lantern and Hyunjin the wick. Every point of contact was charged, the friction between them both ticklish and thrilling. The room spun slightly, but not from the exertion—from that delirious elation of being noticed, being interacted with, even in this ridiculous way.

Felix heart leapt in his throat when he felt the slightest movement from Hyunjin’s groin. Not intentional—at least it seemed accidental, almost—but it triggered a ripple of heat that coursed up Felix’s spine, and suddenly the laughter wedged in his chest was replaced by something breathless, raw, and close to panic.

Hyunjin immediately rolled off of him entirely onto his back, cursing under his breath. “Shit,” He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Sorry," he said, the word so uncharacteristically small it made Felix ache. "Didn’t mean— I wasn’t—"

"It’s fine."

Despite his efforts, Felix's voice wavered as he removed the pillow from his face. He shifted back to his side of the bed and gently placed the pillow under his head, speaking softly. "It’s… it’s natural— happens to everyone." His voice was gentle, understanding—a stark contrast to the teasing from moments before. "Friction and...all that." Felix's cheeks burned as he stumbled over the words, hyperaware of how clinical he sounded.

He stared at the ceiling, feeling the aftershocks of Hyunjin's weight vibrating through his ribcage. He was viscerally aware of the space between their bodies now, a chasm that felt more daunting than the inches of sheet and air that truly separated them.

He thought about saying something, anything, to bridge that gulf—a joke, an observation about the lingering scent of soap, a comment on plans for the next day—anything to dispel the sudden, awkward silence. But what came out was: “Goodnight,” which sounded a little bit like a swallowed confession or a plea for Hyunjin to please, for once, stay as they were moments ago and not to retreat back into himself.

He expected Hyunjin to grunt out a similar perfunctory reply. Instead, there was a stretch of absolute stillness—so long that it broke Felix’s heart when Hyunjin ultimately said nothing at all and turned over, his back to Felix, body radiating a barrier of frustrated energy that neither of them could hope to cross.

They fell back into their routine of waking up and parting, sharing space but rarely words.

Felix couldn't just sit around idly, lost in his thoughts all day, so he decided to resume helping Jeongin in the infirmary, asking for nothing in return.

Meanwhile, Hyunjin continued his duties with relentless determination, fulfilling his role as a commander. Each evening, he returned late, his body marked by fresh markings and his face shadowed with a new layer of grimy exhaustion.

If he drew any closer to Felix on the mattress at night, it was unintentional, a byproduct of muscle memory, of training and trauma rather than comfort. And if Felix sometimes let himself bask in the pressure at his back before dawn, he did it so sneakily he could almost pretend it didn’t happen and that it wasn’t what he wanted at all.

It wasn't until that fateful day when Felix was set to join Minho in the bustling city that events unfolded in a manner no one could have ever foreseen.

Chapter Text

Hyunjin stood at the base of the mountain, his patience fraying like a worn thread, as he watched the entourage bustle with urgency, loading carriages and mounting their saddles in preparation for the journey into the city. His eyes, sharp with irritation, bore into his brother, who infuriatingly brimmed with cheer. Hyunjin's gaze then shifted to Jisung, who fussed over Felix's appearance with meticulous scrutiny before giving a curt nod of approval. With a surge of intense emotion, Hyunjin observed the gentle farewell—a sweet, soft embrace that seemed to mock his simmering frustration.

Felix let his hair cascade with simplicity, parted sharply in the middle, exuding an understated elegance. He donned opulent, layered Feloran silken robes that flowed like white liquid wealth, cinched with a gleaming silver belt at the waist, highlighting his innate slenderness with striking clarity. The voluminous sleeves, a cascade of silk, halted just shy of his wrists, where Jisung had expertly bound silk strips tightly at each joint, ensuring no extraneous fabric could impede his every movement.

Overall, he appeared irresistibly captivating, the garments draping perfectly and embracing his form with a tantalizing allure that seemed almost magnetic.

In a striking contrast, Hyunjin donned his imposing commander armor: formidable black leather plate mail with a meticulously carved and painted breastplate featuring a fierce crimson wyvern, leather arm bracers that seemed to grip his forearms like a vice, his signature cape billowing behind him like a shadow, secured by a gleaming brooch, and well-worn black boots that shone with a fresh polish, ready to stomp with authority.

"Could you make it any more obvious?" Hyunjin snapped, his voice thick with exasperation.

Minho turned, a sly grin playing on his lips, as he sauntered past his brother with an air of unshakable confidence.

"Yes, I can," he declared, his tone dripping with challenge. Without hesitation, he strode up to Jisung, yanking the half-elf forward with a firm grip on his vest, crashing their mouths together in a searing kiss that radiated heat. The kiss was so intense that it knocked Jisung's glasses askew, which he had only just recovered enough to start wearing again.

Around them, the army and friends erupted into a cacophony of cheers, whistles, and playful catcalls, their voices a jubilant roar in the air. Even Felix, caught off guard by the audacious display, couldn't suppress a grin, his cheeks flushing a deep crimson as he clapped his hands over them in a futile attempt to hide his delight.

Despite Hyunjin's warnings, a fire ignited within Felix at the unabashed display of affection for his friend. No other lover of Jisung had ever dared to flaunt their affections so openly, fearing the mockery of onlookers. But Jisung, with all his tenderness and quiet strength, deserved to be cherished in the open. Felix knew he'd have to confront Minho about the situation soon. Yet, in this electrifying moment, witnessing his friend enveloped in the king's fervent embrace, Felix couldn't bring himself to shatter the bliss.

The king showered every inch of Jisung’s face with kisses, as if each fading bruise was a sacred testament to their bond, and Felix felt the thrill of butterflies wreak havoc in his chest.

Jisung, overwhelmed by the king's voracious affection, hid his face, giggling uncontrollably like an enraptured maiden. The intensity of their connection was palpable, a magnetic force that pulled Felix in, even as Hyunjin's irritated throat-clearing snapped the air with tension.

"We have a schedule to stick to here!" Hyunjin's voice sliced through the air, brimming with irritation as he confronted the unruly crowd. The people, though stifling laughter, responded to the commander's authority as he struggled to pry his brother away from Jisung. Minho, with reluctance, offered Jisung a lingering smile and wave, a silent promise in his eyes.

"For fuck's sake," Hyunjin hissed, his voice a venomous whisper as he leaned close to his brother, his teeth clenched in barely contained fury. "We will return before sunset. Can you not parade around like a bitch in heat in front of your people?" He practically dragged Minho toward his horse, the tension between them crackling like a live wire.

Minho's smirk widened into a sharp-edged grin. "You're just bitter because you don’t get to run the fortress today," he taunted with a cutting edge, watching Hyunjin's eyes flare with indignation.

"Yeah, no shit. But hey, your wish is my command," Hyunjin spat back with a venomous sarcasm, executing an exaggerated, mocking bow.

Minho leaned in closer, his voice a low, deliberate tone, meant only for Hyunjin's ears. "If I'm to present Lee Felix of the Kingdom of Felora as the cherished spouse of my brother and commander, wouldn't it do us justice to have that very brother and commander present, standing proudly beside his new husband? This is more than a marriage—it's a declaration of unity and strength." His gaze was unwavering, a look of undeniable triumph, daring Hyunjin to defy him.

Hyunjin's eyes rolled with a dramatic flair. "I can play this ridiculous role you've bestowed onto me when we arrive, but why the hell have you barred me to a damn carriage like a helpless child?" He gestured furiously at the opulent wheelhouse dominating the center of their column.

"Felix fought valiantly for our kingdom, and suffering a wound on the leg in the process, remember? The very least I can offer in gratitude is a comfortable ride to the city," Minho replied with a measured calmness that belied the chaos of the situation.

Hyunjin groaned in utter frustration, his eyes fixed on his husband climbing into the carriage, his movements a silent taunt. "It was a scratch and that healed already! But that still doesn't explain why I must be cooped up with him instead of riding one of the countless empty saddles waiting for me!"

Minho gave his brother a patronizing pat on the shoulder, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Because you're his husband, Jinnie, whether either of you likes it or not." His words hung in the air like a challenge, leaving Hyunjin with no time to respond before Minho pivoted away. With the grace of a seasoned rider, he swung himself onto his horse's saddle, his movements fluid and practiced. He raised a hand, signaling his men, whose boisterous cries filled the courtyard, ricocheting off the stone walls.

Hyunjin muttered a string of colorful curses under his breath, his feet dragging heavily as he trudged toward the carriage. He yanked open the door with an irritated flourish, revealing Felix inside. The elven prince was perched awkwardly in the corner, his posture uncertain, as if he were unsure of his place. Hyunjin clambered up into the carriage, the plush leather seat yielding beneath his weight. Letting out a heavy, resigned sigh, he slumped into the opposite corner, making a deliberate point of ignoring Felix. With a dismissive huff, he rudely propped his boots on the empty space across from him, a silent declaration of his displeasure.

Felix cast a sidelong glance, his expression a perfect mask of indifference, choosing to hold his tongue. Instead, he turned his focus to the small window beside him, where Jisung stood outside.

Jisung blew him a playful kiss, sending a ripple of delight through Felix despite his reserved facade. Meanwhile, the commander seethed in silence, his arms folded tightly across his chest as he slouched in his seat, every inch of him radiating irritation and impatience.

"You know, Minho may have just signed your friend's death warrant," he remarked bluntly, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. This harsh statement snapped Felix's attention away from Jisung, redirecting it to Hyunjin's icy, unyielding gaze.

Felix's lips curled into a gentle, unexpected smile that seemed to hold an enigmatic promise. "Whomever attempts to execute said warrent will meet the same fate as the last fools that dared threaten Jisung in my presence," he murmured in a voice that was both soft and foreboding, sending a shiver cascading down Hyunjin's spine. Those impossibly beautiful eyes, deep and mesmerizing, locked onto his with an intensity that felt almost tangible.

Even with the threat hanging heavy in the air like a storm about to unleash its fury, Hyunjin couldn't suppress the wicked smirk that spread across his face at the elf's bold response. He averted his gaze, his chest swelling with an uncontainable pride for reasons he couldn't quite grasp—perhaps it was the elf's confidence, the underlying threat in their voice that was irresistibly seductive. And maybe, just maybe, it ignited a raw, primal desire within him, the way the elf stood fierce and unyielding, their determination cutting through their differences like a blade. The attraction was a palpable force, impossible to deny, searing through him with an intensity that defied logic. Especially now that he had discovered the elf was no fragile, obedient damsel as he'd assumed upon their wedding, but a formidable force of nature.

After what felt like an eternity of tense silence, the carriage finally lurched forward, shattering the stillness that had settled over them like a heavy fog. The sudden movement sent a ripple of anticipation through the opulent interior. Felix took a deep, steadying breath, his chest rising and falling heavily with the effort, before he cleared his throat, determination etched across his features.

"These are much larger than what I'm accustomed to," Felix gestured cautiously around the lavish space, his fingers brushing against the rich, embroidered upholstery. "Levanter carriages, I mean..."

Hyunjin let out a low hum. "They're designed for hauling groups of wounded soldiers at once, not for simple royal transportation," he stated bluntly, his eyes scanning the ornate carvings that adorned the walls. "We prefer the freedom of riding on our own," he continued, a touch of longing in his voice. "Not being trapped in a cage like helpless animals."

Despite the sharpness of Hyunjin's words, Felix nodded thoughtfully, his curiosity piqued. "Do you ever encounter bandits?" he inquired, his interest evident in the way his eyes shimmered with intrigue.

Hyunjin shook his head with a dark, resonant chuckle that seemed to vibrate through the confined space. "They wouldn't dare challenge a caravan of Levanter soldiers," he declared, his voice dripping with arrogance as he threw a cocky wink that made Felix flush unexpectedly hot under his collar. "And what about in Felora? Do you face bandits... beasts?"

Felix momentarily fell into a deep, contemplative silence.

"All the creatures of the forest know my parents well," he finally replied, his voice resonating with an enigmatic intensity that clung to the air like a suffocating fog.

Hyunjin's eyebrow shot up, disbelief stark on his face. "That's... an odd statement. So, what, do they have afternoon tea with ogres and trolls or something?"

The prince's smile twisted into a sinister curve, both wry and perilous. "What I meant is that every being in and around the forests knows that they would be flayed alive before they could lay so much as a scratch on me."

Hyunjin let out a nervous laugh, trying to mask the chill that ran down his spine, knowing better than their own son that reputations were earned. "Fair enough."

The silence between them thickened like a smothering fog, suffocating the air. While Felix immersed himself in cherished memories of Felora's lush greenery, Hyunjin's mind plunged into a shadowy abyss. His imagination twisted darkly from an elf flaying an ogre alive to the horrific night when Felix had literally made a man explode—a power unmatched by any other being. Hyunjin felt not the slightest remorse, knowing the bastard deserved his fate. Yet, the memory gnawed at him, a reminder that beyond anything he may have disclosed to Felix during his anguished wailing, they hadn't truly discussed the incident. Though words seemed unnecessary, Hyunjin had pledged loyalty to Felix and despite scouring himself clean and burying his emotions back in the brimming vault deep in his mind, an unease festered within him, especially as he headed into the city, straight into the arms of his usual coping mechanisms.

But the idea of speaking it aloud was unbearable. Words tangled in his throat like barbed wire, refusing to escape no matter how fervently he wished to shatter the oppressive quiet. He was lost, unsure how to even approach the subject. So he sat there, wound tight like a coiled spring, his mind spiraling into chaos. His leg jittered with nervous energy, and he picked at his cuticles until they bled. He forced himself to stop, clenching his fists with such intensity that his knuckles turned white, pressing them into his thighs like anchors against the storm raging within.

He was plagued with doubt, unsure if voicing his turmoil would bring any relief, yet he found himself trapped, unable to succumb to his urges. His mind screamed for release, compelling him to endure yet another agonizing session of pouring his heart out to Felix. He loathed the thought of talking about it, despised the vulnerability it demanded, but an unrelenting force within him insisted he must, as if it were a matter of survival.

He just... couldn't. The weight of his own indecision crushed him like a vice, squeezing the breath from his lungs until every fiber of his being screamed in silent agony. His mind was a turbulent storm, a cacophony of conflicting emotions that threatened to tear him apart from the inside out.

Pathetic. Utterly worthless. Weak. Completely powerless. Weak. Insignificant speck. Weak. Woefully inadequate. Weak. Incompetent beyond measure. Insignificant. Weak.

He hadn't realized Felix had been scrutinizing him with relentless intensity, concern etched deeply into his features, until a small hand reached out and firmly anchored itself on his shin just above his boot. The touch jolted Hyunjin, tearing him violently from his turbulent thoughts.

"Are you okay?" The question pierced through with genuine curiosity, devoid of any resentment.

"I'm fine," Hyunjin muttered harshly, his voice clipped, eyes stubbornly avoiding Felix's probing gaze.

"If you want to talk about—"

"I don't."

Felix seemed to sense the raw edge in Hyunjin's tone, nodding as he let the conversation drop like a stone into the depths of silence, his eyes drifting back out the window. Yet, his hand remained, a steadfast presence on the commander's shin, a silent offering of solace that Hyunjin begrudgingly accepted, though he would never confess to needing it.

Time dragged on, the seconds feeling like hours, until Felix glanced over once more, catching sight of Hyunjin hastily wiping beneath his eye, desperately trying to erase any evidence of his vulnerability. The morning light flooding through the carriage window betrayed him, illuminating the moisture glistening on his fingers. Felix feigned ignorance, granting Hyunjin the dignity of silence, yet maintained that unwavering pressure on his shin—a lifeline amidst the tempest of haunting memories battering him.

Something intangible—perhaps those piercing golden-flecked eyes boring into him from his periphery, or the unyielding hand that refused to relinquish its grip—something compelled the commander to finally surrender.

Hyunjin exhaled deeply, words spilling from his mouth uncontrollably. "When I am extremely fucking stressed, I go to the city," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper, yet sharp enough to snatch Felix's attention, though his gaze stayed fixed on the scenery outside. "I find someone, or maybe a few... in brothels, and I fuck until I can’t feel anything anymore… until I am numb… until my mind goes blank and I forget... I forget everything I've done and who I am for just one damn fleeting moment in time. I know it's a reckless, destructive way to cope but... that's just how I manage shit sometimes," Hyunjin spewed his truth, a raw mix of anger, frustration, and shame boiling within him, a storm of emotions at war. He still couldn’t bring himself to meet Felix's eyes.

"I see," Felix acknowledged with a grave nod, absorbing the weight of the information.

There was hope in how Hyunjin was painfully aware of the unhealthy nature of his coping mechanisms, but he seemed visibly distressed about not being able to numb himself, a clear sign of the intense stress he was under. Felix couldn't help but feel a profound sense of empathy and sorrow for the commander.

Felix cleared his throat softly, his voice gentle yet firm. "Hyunjin..." he spoke with a tenderness that finally drew Hyunjin's eyes to meet his own, breaking the usual avoidance. "I told you before... if you were to seek pleasure from someone else, I wouldn’t be offended," he reassured with a soothing calmness, cautiously removing his hand from Hyunjin's leg to avoid further offense. But the damage was done; Hyunjin already seemed deeply affronted. "Although I don't believe that's a sustainable way to handle such deep-rooted issues, I wouldn't judge or condemn you for—"

"Are you fucking serious?" Hyunjin interjected with a sudden, fiery intensity, his voice sharp and defensive as he yanked his legs down and leaned forward, his eyes locking onto Felix's bewildered gaze with fierce determination.

"What?" Felix asked, completely taken aback, confusion etched across his face.

"I already told you that I take oaths seriously, regardless of how they came to be," he continued with a raw intensity. "Do you really believe I would make a vow with my own blood, only to break it for a quick fuck? Do you think I'm that fucking incompetent? Do you imagine me so feeble that I can't handle with my own demons, that I need help from strangers? I'm not fucking weak! I've battled through shit my entire life. I'll figure it out. I always do!" His voice rose, trembling with fury, as if the mere suggestion that his promises were hollow cut him to the core.

It hit Felix like a punch, the realization of how vulnerable Hyunjin must feel after what Felix had witnessed. Hyunjin had bared his soul, yet it was clear the man was tormented by his own exposure. For Felix to insinuate that he might break his oath was like grinding salt into a gaping wound—as if Felix saw him as nothing more than a beast enslaved by primal urges, bereft of honor or restraint.

Felix's heart twisted painfully at the revelation. He had intended to be a pillar of support, to offer empathy, but he had inadvertently slashed at Hyunjin's pride at the very worst time.

Hyunjin’s outburst washed over him without leaving a mark. He saw through it with razor-sharp clarity. Hyunjin was like a cornered animal, thrashing about in a desperate attempt to shield his own vulnerability, trying with every word to hammer his own conviction as much as to sway Felix.

"I did not mean any offense, Hyunjin. I apologize. I… I just do not wish to see you so troubled." The elf’s voice dripped with sincerity, cutting through the palpable tension like a knife.

Slowly, the commander's rigid posture softened, sinking back into the plush embrace of the carriage's cushioned bench, dismissing the apology with a nonchalant wave, as if to say, 'it's fine.'

The silence that followed was dense, charged with unspoken realizations. Felix's thoughts raced, grappling with the startling confirmation that Hyunjin was choosing his vows over personal comfort. It was a jarring yet oddly reassuring revelation, coming from a man known for being insufferable and ruthless when provoked—more unyielding than a stubborn mule. Hyunjin's steadfast loyalty to his word was relentless, and Felix found himself unexpectedly flattered and awestruck by the commander's unwavering conviction.

Felix had never indulged in carnal pleasures, so he couldn't truly fathom the complexity of giving it all up—of wrestling with one's desires only to face a greater challenge, marrying that challenge, and resigning oneself to a life devoid of such pleasures. It was an unfathomable sacrifice, and yet, there was an admirable nobility in Hyunjin's decision that Felix hadn’t anticipated from the gruff commander.

In truth, though Felix would never admit it, the idea of Hyunjin sleeping around unsettled him, stirring emotions he couldn't quite decipher. Though he would permit it if necessary, discovering that the man refused to lie with another filled him with inexplicable happiness, warming his insides with a strange, fuzzy sensation he'd never felt before.

Sure, Felix excelled at sharing everything—food, clothing, books, time, attention—but the mere thought of sharing Hyunjin with strangers ignited a fierce, possessive flame in his chest. The intensity of the emotion shocked him. He had no real claim over Hyunjin beyond the cold, legal bonds of their arranged marriage, no right to feel so territorial. Yet when he imagined those divine sounds Hyunjin had made in the bathtub and that breathtaking face twisted in pleasure—well, Felix wanted to hoard those moments all for himself.

Fuck it, Felix finally decided. Thrown into this chaotic whirlwind of a world, it was time to embrace it with reckless abandon.

Without warning, Felix rose from his seat, his heart pounding like a war drum, and stumbled over to stand boldly between the commander's legs, where Hyunjin sat, eyebrows raised in a mix of surprise and curiosity as he looked up at the elf towering above him.

"What?" Hyunjin asked, uncertainty threading through his voice. "Finally gonna drop the act and kill me?" he teased, though the smirk barely touched his eyes.

Felix inhaled deeply, determination etched into every line of his face as he gazed down at his husband. "If release is what you need and you refuse to seek it elsewhere, then allow me—" he declared, his voice steady as he began to gather his robes, lifting them carefully to avoid creasing the fabric. But before he could continue, a set of strong, firm hands gripped his own, stopping him in his tracks. Hyunjin stared up at him, eyes wide with shock.

"Yongbok. Do you have any fucking clue what you're doing?” He warned incredulously, his voice breaking with something caught between laughter and a plea.

Felix felt the heat of Hyunjin's penetrating gaze burn into him, a blush rising to his cheeks. With a determined nod, he continued his actions, lifting the fabric until it bunched provocatively around his thighs. Hyunjin sucked in a shaky breath, his eyes locking onto the expanse of tanned skin, and he grabbed the material to halt Felix's progress, forcing his gaze anywhere but the enticing figure above him, mentally cursing his own body's eager response already threatening to burst through his trousers.

"No. Even if I wanted to, surely you're educated enough to realize that, considering your inexperience, preparation would take too long. We'd arrive before we even began," Hyunjin stated with a forced calm, but it was apparent he was barely restraining himself, his breathing growing heavier, his knuckles blanching as he clutched the scrunched silk.

Felix's eyes bore into him, affronted, as he released the fabric, pushing Hyunjin’s grip aside and letting the silk fall back to its normal length, covering the tempting view once more.

Hyunjin silently begged for intervention, feeling his arousal pulse with urgency beneath the constricting leather, mortified that the mere suggestion and sight of those slim, muscled legs were enough to ignite such a swift and intense reaction.

Felix's gaze darted to the evidence of Hyunjin's desire before meeting his eyes with a victorious glint. "Even if you wanted to?" he taunted with a mischievous smirk, arching an eyebrow.

Hyunjin groaned in abject surrender, his desire blatantly obvious as the unforgiving leather did nothing to disguise him. His glare, meant to pierce through the elf, softened as Felix slowly descended to his knees before him.

"Fine," Felix breathed, his voice thick with intent, as he undid the clasp of Hyunjin's belt with an agonizing slowness, maintaining unbroken eye contact with each deliberate movement. "How about this instead?"

Every iota of Hyunjin's restraint shattered like glass, unleashing a tidal wave of raw, unrestrained desire that consumed his senses. He nodded with an overwhelming eagerness, his eyes fixated without shame on those inviting, plump lips. His hands moved with feverish urgency, yanking at the loose ends of his belts and tearing down the zipper of his pants. With frantic movements, he shoved his pants and underwear just enough to free his throbbing erection, so consumed by desperation that he knew he'd chastise himself later. But at this very moment, the mere thought of Felix willingly kneeling to pleasure him was enough to send wild, electrifying pulses of excitement through his body.

Despite the brazen invitation, Felix found his nerves fraying more than he'd predicted. Up close, Hyunjin's impressive size loomed before him, being leisurely stroked by Hyunjin's own hand. Doubts clawed at Felix's mind as he hesitated, fearing he'd bungle the moment catastrophically and bring humiliation upon himself. What if he choked and reduced the scene to a farce? What if Hyunjin dismissed him with laughter? What if, in a nightmare scenario, he bit down unexpectedly?

But then, a gentle hand brushed through his hair, dispelling the intrusive anxieties clouding his thoughts. Felix looked up, his face a portrait of bashful apprehension.

"You don't have to," Hyunjin murmured, his voice a silken thread of reassurance, eyes half-lidded and darkened with desire.

Goddamn, Hyunjin was devastatingly attractive, Felix thought, thunderstruck, as he gazed at him with awe.

Felix summoned every ounce of his previous courage, shaking his head with a daring smirk. "Giving up so soon, commander?" he taunted, his voice dripping with challenge. With deliberate intent, he wrapped his hand around Hyunjin's base, squeezing just enough to draw a sharp intake of breath, followed by a low, guttural groan. The power surged through him at the sound and the solid, electrifying sensation of flesh in his grip. It was intoxicating.

Without wasting a heartbeat, Felix plunged forward, his mouth descending with unwavering confidence, not a hint of hesitation in his motion. He took Hyunjin's cock down in one smooth, audacious movement, wrenching a surprised curse and a loud, startled moan from the commander above. Hyunjin's body jerked violently, hips snapping forward instinctively, completely off guard by the elf's audacious maneuver, utterly unprepared for the tight, wet warmth that enveloped him like a slice of heaven.

"Commander?" A soldier's voice rang out from outside the carriage, concern lacing their tone upon hearing the shout.

Felix froze, Hyunjin's length buried fully in his throat, eyes wide with sudden panic, awaiting some sign of what to do next. But he relaxed slightly when Hyunjin let out a breathy chuckle.

"I'm fine!" the commander hollered back, his voice strained with effort, fingers digging desperately into the leather cushion beneath him, fighting the primal urge to thrust down that enticing throat and lose himself completely to the madness of the moment.

Felix's awareness of Hyunjin’s comrades and brother stationed along the trail outside the carriage whipped through his veins like a wildfire. The commander could barely contain his self-control as a jolt of unexpected arousal surged through him. The knowledge that they might overhear drove him to the brink. He was determined to shatter Hyunjin, to make him regret the day their paths crossed.

“Just.. hit my head is all—AH!” Hyunjin tried to dismiss the guard's concern, but his words were cut short by a sharp gasp as Felix began to pull back with excruciating slowness. His tongue dragged along the underside of Hyunjin's shaft in a torturously slow motion, before sucking mercilessly on the tip.

His actions were a chaotic storm without logic or pattern, driven solely by the force of his desires. He acted with reckless abandon, following the urge of his instincts, doing only what felt intensely right in the moment.

His tongue swirled and dipped into the slit, hollowing his cheeks as he took Hyunjin fully down his throat in a sudden, unexpected movement. Waves of pleasure crashed through Hyunjin like thunder, electrifying his entire being.

Felix bobbed his head relentlessly, his hand adding friction where his lips couldn't reach. Saliva dripped carelessly from his mouth, etiquette be damned. He reveled in the commander's struggle to maintain composure, in the futile attempt to muffle his own cries with his palm. The raw, primal thrill of it all was intoxicating.

When Felix hummed lowly, his eyes smoldering beneath thick eyelashes, he locked eyes with the commander, whose whimpering pleas filled the air. A powerful surge electrified Felix's veins, a heady thrill of dominance as he realized he held complete control over the situation. He reveled in the moment when Hyunjin slapped a second hand over his own mouth, his eyes clenched shut, breaths ragged and uneven through flared nostrils. Hyunjin's muscles were taut, straining as though resisting an overpowering urge to seize handfuls of Felix's hair and dictate every movement with raw force. Felix briefly imagined that this was Hyunjin's usual method of handling such encounters, and the mere thought sent a jolt of pleasure shooting straight down to his groin, igniting his cock with fiery intensity.

The commander's voice cut through the air with a muffled curse as Felix abruptly pulled away, panting heavily, a sinful string of thick saliva still clinging to his lip. Another strand followed when he leaned forward, deliberately slow, to languidly lick the leaking pre-cum from the slit, savoring the unique taste with every deliberate jerk and twitch of Hyunjin's hips, his eyes half-lidded with dark intent.

“Am I doing okay?” Felix murmured, staring up at Hyunjin with feigned innocence, his large doe eyes batting sweetly, a stark contrast to the wicked satisfaction coursing through him.

Hyunjin dropped his hands from his mouth, shaking his head in disbelief, a smirk of genuine fondness playing on his lips. "You're a real fucking menace, you know that, Yongbokie?" His voice was soft, yet charged with a fierce amusement. He gripped the back of Felix’s head with a possessive intensity, guiding him back towards his throbbing desire. Felix eagerly parted his lips, his gaze locked onto Hyunjin's soul with an unyielding intensity, eyes dark with lust, swirling like molten chocolate flecked with gold.

Felix quickly discovered exactly what pleased the commander and unleashed an unyielding, feverish pace. He bobbed with relentless vigor, maintaining a steady rhythm, humming to intensify the vibrations that coursed through his efforts. His jaw and neck began to ache, but the sight of unadulterated ecstasy etched across his husband's face made every ounce of discomfort insignificant. At last, Felix understood why Jisung reveled in giving blowjobs. He had assumed the pleasure was solely for the receiver, but he was astoundingly wrong. Watching Hyunjin unravel so exquisitely beneath his touch brought Felix an overwhelming rush of satisfaction that he hadn't anticipated.

Hyunjin yanked Felix’s hair with a fierce grip, tearing him away with a force that made Felix whimper loudly, sending an electrifying shudder through Hyunjin's spine. "Stop! Stop that! You're using magic," Hyunjin gasped breathlessly, his voice a ragged whisper. "That's not fair," he croaked weakly, his head lolling back against the wall in utter exhaustion as his eyes fluttered shut for the briefest moment of relief.

Felix stared at him, alarmed yet amused, a chuckle escaping as if he relished the accusation. "I don't know what you mean," he replied, his voice dripping with playful defiance.

Hyunjin bore down on Felix with a fierce intensity, his breath ragged and uneven as he struggled to maintain composure. "Magic. You’re using magic," he insisted, his voice tinged with desperation and frustration, sweat now slick on his skin. "Tell me you’re using magic, because if you’re not, I have to accept that you’re just insanely fucking good at this naturally, with zero experience, which is so fucking unfair to my dignity and pride," he added, his words practically seething with disbelief.

Felix, unfazed, raised an eyebrow in bewilderment, but laughed lightly, the sound almost teasing, and shook his head earnestly, his eyes twinkling as they peeked from beneath his long lashes.

"I'm afraid there's no magic involved. Sorry," he said, a spark of mischief flickering in his eyes. His gaze dropped, hands fumbling to free his robes from beneath his bent knees, a sudden wave of shyness washing over him as he looked away. With a voice trembling yet daring, he asked, "Would it be alright if I... take care of myself as well?" His cheeks burned a fiery red, heart thundering in his chest with anticipation. He was shocked at his own audacity to voice such an intimate request, but the relentless throb between his legs was a demand he could no longer dismiss. Though his robes shielded him from full exposure, Hyunjin's eyes devoured him with such intensity that Felix felt utterly bare, his skin igniting with a searing heat that surged downwards, intensifying his desire with an unbearable urgency.

Hyunjin shook his head fiercely, lunging forward to seize Felix’s robes with a desperate grip, yanking the elf onto his lap with a forceful tug. Felix let out a startled squeak, finding himself straddling Hyunjin, legs splayed wide, his palm slamming against the wall behind Hyunjin's head for balance, his body electrified by the searing heat of the man's rigid member pressing against the sensitive skin of his inner thigh.

“Wha—“

Hyunjin gathered the robes with swift, feverish movements until Felix’s erection was exposed, causing Hyunjin to whip his gaze away, eyes clamping shut as if battling a tempest within.

“You don’t wear anything under these?” Hyunjin's voice was a raw, breathless groan, while Felix almost burst into laughter, reveling in the sight of the man’s struggle, caught between frustration and an overwhelming flood of desire.

Felix shook his head. “No. It’s customary that—“

“Fuck. Fuck. I was much better off not knowing that,” Hyunjin groaned, a pitiful edge to his voice. He cleared his throat, finally daring to glance at Felix, who was a whirlwind of confusion, amusement, and desire, before his hand moved to caress the elf’s bare thigh with a touch that was almost soothing amidst the chaos.

"Can I touch you?" The question landed with a soft yet commanding intensity, Hyunjin's voice a gentle force as his eyes locked onto Felix, searching for even a flicker of doubt. Felix's mind was a whirlwind of uncertainty about Hyunjin's intentions. Yet, truth be told, in that electrifying moment, Felix felt he would surrender to any of Hyunjin's desires without hesitation. Instead of baring such raw vulnerability, he gave a firm nod, raising the fabric between his thighs to offer himself completely.

Hyunjin's hand journeyed up the inside of the prince's leg with deliberate slowness, each movement charged with electricity. As his fingers brushed closer to Felix's cock, it reacted instinctively, twitching with anticipation at the mere ghostly touch of the commander's fingertips on his hypersensitive skin. Felix fought to suppress an apology for his own fervent eagerness, his breath catching in his throat.

The commander locked eyes with unwavering intensity as he seized Felix, fingers pressing firmly along the throbbing vein until he reached its base. There, he wrapped his hand with a grip that was neither too soft nor too harsh, applying just the right amount of pressure that forced a strained, appreciative whimper from Felix's lips. Felix struggled to control himself, fighting the urge to thrust desperately into Hyunjin's unyielding fist.

“Is this okay?” Hyunjin murmured, his voice a low, almost dangerous whisper as he ran his other hand soothingly over the tender, bruised flesh of Felix's thigh, his thumb caressing it with a deceptive gentleness.

Felix nodded with fervor, his lips parting as he prepared himself for the storm of sensations awaiting him. His mind raced with the fear of succumbing too quickly, of losing control, for it had been far too long since he last indulged in relieving himself. He feared the humiliation of finishing too soon, a testament to his overwhelming, pent-up desire.

Hyunjin started pumping with a deliberate, agonizing slowness, and it was like a revelation—infinitely superior to any self-induced pleasure. With every twist of Hyunjin's expertly controlled wrist and the added pressure at the tip, Felix's restraint shattered, releasing a raw, desperate moan that echoed with need. His mind spiraled into a haze, consumed by an overwhelming craving that bordered on madness. Hyunjin, driven by an unyielding desire, clamped his free hand over Felix's mouth, muffling the insistent cries. As he gazed up at Felix, his eyes wide and entranced, Hyunjin was utterly captivated by the hauntingly beautiful sound escaping Felix's lips.

Just when Felix believed the moment couldn't peak any higher, Hyunjin released a low growl, seizing his bare rear with a commanding grip and yanking him impossibly closer, their bodies merging completely.

In a fervent motion, Hyunjin enveloped both their throbbing lengths in his large hand, squeezing firmly as he stroked with a deliberate intensity. His other hand tangled in Felix's hair, guiding his head to rest against his shoulder with a possessive tenderness.

"You can bite if you need to," Hyunjin whispered, his voice a soft yet electrifying murmur that might have been lost to any lesser senses.

Felix could absolutely surrender himself to this overwhelming ecstasy forever. The pleasure was so intoxicating that drool escaped his lips, but he was too consumed by the relentless waves of bliss to care. He lifted his head, panting heavily, his breath hot against Hyunjin’s ear as the man skillfully orchestrated their movements with flawless precision.

Felix's legs spasmed uncontrollably with each expert flick of Hyunjin's wrist. This was it. This was how he would meet his end—drowned in an ocean of pleasure. His palms slammed against the wall behind Hyunjin, fingers clawing into the surface in a desperate attempt to stifle the cries of rapture threatening to betray him, though the task became increasingly impossible.

When restraint finally shattered, his hands laced fiercely in Hyunjin’s short, ashen hair, just long enough to grip and pull with raw need. Hyunjin seemed utterly unfazed, a deep groan resonating from his chest as his movements became even more rapid and precise, driving Felix to the brink of madness.

Hyunjin yanked Felix back by his hair with an unyielding grip, pulling him close until their foreheads connected, slick with sweat. He scrutinized the elf's face, searching for any flicker of distress amidst the chaos of emotions swirling between them.

"Are you okay?" Hyunjin gasped, his breath hot and ragged, eyes dilated with an overwhelming, feral desire that consumed him.

Felix, struggling to speak, parted his lips, his brows furrowed with a desperation that only fueled Hyunjin’s wild lust. A raw, breathtaking sound escaped Felix, each note a symphony of ecstasy that shattered Hyunjin’s grasp on sanity. Unable to resist any longer, Hyunjin crashed his lips against Felix’s in a searing kiss, silencing any words before they could form.

Felix jolted at the unexpected action, initially stunned, but as soon as the realization hit him, he dove into the kiss with fervor. His arms encircled Hyunjin's shoulders in a fierce grip, pulling him closer with a reckless abandon. They kissed with a burning urgency, their mouths colliding and sliding wetly against each other, a whirlwind of raw emotion and need. Breathless and flushed a vivid crimson, Felix pulled back just enough to speak, his voice quivering with uncertainty.

“I’ve never... Sorry if I am bad at this...” he confessed, each word tinged with shame and the fear of inadequacy, ironic given that this was the most innocent of his daring acts yet.

Hyunjin violently shook his head, a wild desperation in his eyes. “Shut up. Fuck. You’re good at everything. Fucking perfect,” he blurted out with a reckless abandon, before forcefully pulling Felix into another fervent and consuming kiss, as if having tasted a forbidden nectar and craving to devour every last drop.

In that electrifying moment, the world around them ceased to exist. The rhythmic pounding of hooves, the distant hum of soldiers’ chatter, and even Minho’s far-off singing of a shanty—all faded into oblivion. Nothing mattered except the fiery fusion of their bodies and souls, lost in a feverish trance that felt impossibly perfect. Their teeth collided with a raw urgency, Hyunjin moaning shamelessly into the kiss, while Felix echoed every fervent sound, clutching each other with a desperate intensity as if their very survival depended on it.

Felix abandoned every shred of restraint, rutting into the hold with wild abandon, thrusting into Hyunjin's fist with raw, needy whimpers that bordered on desperation, as he pursued his climax with feverish urgency. The sensation of his cock pressing urgently against Hyunjin’s was an overwhelming sensory overload, an electric storm of pleasure that shook him to his core. He could almost feel the pulsating throb from his length against Hyunjin's, and the desire to taste it again burned within him, though the lingering taste of Hyunjin’s saliva was equally intoxicating.

Their tongues clashed and intertwined in a chaotic, wet dance, each battling fiercely for dominance. They exchanged saliva with reckless abandon, swapping spit like ravenous lovers devouring a shared feast, each man exploring every intimate inch of the other's mouth, creating a messy, passionate symphony. Yet neither cared about the chaos they created, lost in the frantic need to touch and connect with one another in that passionate moment.

It was as if they'd found a secret language in each other's mouths, drowning out their lascivious sounds in a fervent passion. They devoured the discovery with insatiable hunger until Hyunjin yanked one side of Felix’s robes off his shoulder, attacking the exposed skin with a ravenous mouth, biting and nibbling with deliberate care before lavishing it with his tongue. Felix had never felt so scandalous, straddling a man's lap with his legs splayed wide, robes haphazardly bunched around his hips and slipping off one shoulder, his cock exposed, his ass teasingly visible, practically outdoors with the open windows framing their heated exchange. He ground against the man who branded his bare skin with marks, the crown prince caught in a sinful dance. What would the subjects of Felora think if they saw him like this? The thought sent a thrilling jolt of adrenaline coursing through him.

Without warning, Felix stiffened before releasing high pitched gasps and cries while shaking in the other man's lap as he spurted white fluid messily between them, throwing his head back and clawing into Hyunjin’s shoulders, crying out the commander's name before catching himself and stifling his volume, burying his face into the crook of Hyunjin's neck as he continued to grind furiously through his orgasm and riding it out. He barely registered Hyunjin’s coaxing a praises.

“There you go, angel," Hyunjin murmured against Felix's ear, his voice rough with desire as he continued stroking through Felix's release. "So fucking perfect."

Felix trembled violently in the aftermath, his body a live wire of sensation as Hyunjin's hand continued its gentle ministrations. The commander's other arm wrapped around Felix's waist, holding him steady.

The unraveling of the younger triggered something primal in Hyunjin, compelling him to follow suit with an intensity that bordered on feral. Felix, trembling with adrenaline, leaned back, absorbing every detail of Hyunjin’s features as they contorted in raw, unrestrained passion. Hyunjin gasped and cursed in a foreign tongue, his voice a guttural symphony of ecstasy that Felix couldn't understand yet found intoxicating. Amidst his own ragged breaths, Felix grinned with satisfaction, elated by the knowledge that he had brought forth such unbridled emotion from the usually irate man, feeling a fierce pride in having assisted Hyunjin to this pinnacle of bliss.

When Hyunjin's eyes snapped open, Felix recoiled violently, his heart pounding in his chest. The sight of those eyes, a fiery red, now shifting back to their familiar, deep brown, sent a shiver down his spine. It was as if he had witnessed a tempest subside, leaving behind a haunting calm that rattled him to his core.

Hyunjin jolted violently at Felix's sudden movement, a deep crease of worry marking his brow as he scanned his partner for any signs of distress.

“Shit! Did I hurt—“

“Your eyes,” Felix interrupted, his voice tight with unease. “The last time I saw them red was when…” His words faltered, the memory crashing into him with a force that stole his breath.

Hyunjin's hand flew to his eyes as if the tactile sensation might reveal their condition, his expression a mix of curiosity and urgency as he scrutinized Felix.

“Well, I’m fine… I didn’t realize. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Hyunjin promised, his voice laden with sincerity.

Felix shook his head vigorously. "No, no. It’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting it is all,” he lied, desperately trying to mask the rising tide of apprehension. But that was far from the truth; those fiery red eyes reignited a primal fear within him—the dread that he might once again have to fight for survival. And the thought of grappling for his life with the man he'd just shared a most intimate connection with was an absurdity that twisted his stomach into knots.

He refused to entertain the thought of dying after such a heart-pounding, electrifying experience, because the thrill of it had gripped him, and he yearned to feel it again in a place where they could unleash their cries without restraint. Yet, he was far from admitting that, even to himself. Their breaths were ragged, the silence between them thick with the aftermath of adrenaline, until Hyunjin broke it with a cautious whisper.

"Was—was that okay for you?" Hyunjin asked, his voice trembling with uncertainty, his soiled hand held at a distance, as if afraid of the weight of his own question.

Felix was utterly astonished that someone as audacious and self-assured as this man, whose mouth could spew filth like a storm, could suddenly become bashful after their climax, genuinely concerned about whether the elf had enjoyed himself. This unexpected vulnerability ignited a fierce warmth in Felix, who grinned broadly at Hyunjin, nodding with a mix of fondness and amusement.

"Where's all that bravado you had when you were astride a dragon?" Felix teased, his words laced with a playful challenge, savoring the radiant smile that Hyunjin couldn't help but reflect back upon seeing Felix's grin.

Hyunjin stayed silent, his eyes darting between them, where their release shimmered stickily on their clothes, and where Felix remained perched, straddling Hyunjin's thighs with a possessive ease.

"Shit," the commander spat out, his voice laced with frustration and guilt as he shot a glance downward. "We should—"

“Yeah,” Felix cut in, his agreement tinged with awkwardness as the gravity of the situation crashed over him. The imminent confrontation with the public loomed large, sending a fresh wave of heat across his face. With deliberate care, he extricated himself from the commander, his legs trembling with the effort to stand. He adjusted his clothing with jittery fingers, struggling to regain composure, while using Hyunjin's shoulder as a lifeline to steady himself.

Fortunately, Felix's robes were a fortress of fabric, layered enough to allow him to peel away the thin outermost layer. With deliberate precision, he folded it into a makeshift cloth, methodically cleaning himself and meticulously wiping the cum from Hyunjin’s leather armor. Hyunjin's eyes were fixed on him, wide with a mix of disbelief and awe at Felix's composed demeanor amidst the chaos swirling around them. The elf worked with a focused intensity, restoring his appearance to something resembling decency, before giving an awkward nod to Hyunjin. Hyunjin remained immobilized, his body like quivering jelly, sitting there in stunned silence, pants still partially down, his cock unabashedly exposed to the air.

Felix cleared his throat sharply, the sound cutting through the cabin's tense silence as he returned to his seat in the far corner. A sly smirk played on his lips as he fixed his gaze out the window, taking in the bleak, ashen terrain devoid of grass. It was easier than facing Hyunjin, who was yanking his pants up with an air of frustration, muttering curses under his breath, his irritation palpable yet tinged with an underlying camaraderie. Hyunjin hastily shoved the discarded layer of Felix’s clothes under the seat, a precautionary measure, before sprawling back across from Felix, the space between them charged with unspoken tension.

A heavy silence enveloped them, both grappling with the gravity of their actions. The air thick with tension, neither dared to speak or move until, finally, Hyunjin shattered the stillness.

"So, was that a one-time thing or...?" Hyunjin ventured, his voice laced with uncertainty after an eternity seemed to pass.

Felix hesitated, his mind a storm of thoughts as he searched for the right words. What did he truly want? The experience had been nothing short of electrifying, a moment he longed to relive, preferably where he could bask in the symphony of Hyunjin's intoxicating sounds. Yet, the reality remained—Hyunjin was still Hyunjin. Most of the time, they could hardly stand each other, yet when they touched, it was as if a powerful current surged between them, a magnetic force Felix had never felt before. It was as though they were enveloped in a bubble, a perfect world that existed solely for them, a world that defied logic and reason but was impossible to resist. Felix felt an overwhelming urge to repeat the experience, to delve deeper with the man who was, after all, his husband. This wasn't some clandestine affair hidden in the shadows. But Felix knew he couldn't lose himself like a reckless teenager consumed by newfound desires. He needed to keep his mind sharp and his heart steady as he navigated this uncharted territory in his life.

So he responded with raw honesty, his gaze fixed away from Hyunjin, his shoulders rising and falling in a nonchalant shrug. "I don't know." Hyunjin appeared to find solace in this admission, releasing a heavy sigh that seemed to unburden his soul. He let his body sink into a state of complete relaxation, his head resting back on his crossed arms with an air of casual confidence. His eyes bore into Felix with an intensity that was both direct and patient, no longer applying the pressure of expectation, but instead savoring the moment, admiring Felix's every feature with unhidden appreciation.

Felix dared to steal a glance in his direction, noting the deep satisfaction etched into the commander's expression, as if the simple act of sharing a tranquil moment with Felix was a rare treasure, a stark contrast to their usual bouts of sharp exchanges. How utterly bewildering things were becoming, Felix pondered, his mind swirling with the intensity of it all.

He was practically vibrating with anticipation to tell Jisung when he got back. Jisung was going to absolutely lose his mind—in the best way possible. Maybe Felix would even seek out some advice... just in case he ever chose to dive deeper into the whirlwind that was Hyunjin again someday. For now, though, the two of them lingered in an electrifyingly charged silence for the rest of the trip, the air heavy with unspoken words, their encounter left unmentioned save for the furtive, electric glances they exchanged every so often.

This was a whirlwind neither had anticipated from the trip. Felix's mind raced to comprehend the whirlwind of emotions and the implications of their recent encounter. Instead, he surrendered to the surge of euphoria ignited by their shared intimacy, drowning in its intensity. He knew it wouldn't be long before Hyunjin's fleeting warm half-grin twisted back into the usual scowl, but for now, he clung to the moment's fervor.

Chapter Text

Minho threw open the cabin door with a flourish, extending a hand to help his brother, but Hyunjin dismissed the gesture with a bold leap, landing on the cobblestones with feline grace. Felix swallowed hard, anxiety knotting in his stomach, as he emerged next. Hyunjin, now a pillar of stoic composure, took Minho's place, offering his hand with the air of a gentleman, even if it was just for appearances.

Felix gratefully clasped Hyunjin's hand, using his other to lift his cumbersome robes to avoid a disastrous stumble down the stairs. As his feet touched the ground, he scanned his surroundings, overwhelmed by the throng of bustling streets. He felt conspicuously overdressed, like a glaring beacon against the muted tapestry of greys, blacks, browns, and taupe. The curious eyes of the townsfolk flitted over him, nodding respectfully to Hyunjin before moving on. The ground was dusted with a fine layer of ash, a testament to a kingdom forged in fire and brimstone.

"My King!" an elderly woman exclaimed with spirited warmth, her voice cutting through the din as she approached Minho, wrapping him in an unyielding embrace. She clasped his cheeks with surprising strength, patting them with affection before pulling Hyunjin into her hold, a gesture he surprisingly welcomed and returned, much to Felix's astonishment.

Once she had released her beloved king and the commander, she seized Felix’s hands with a sudden, fervent grip. The hold was reassuring, her fingers rugged and weathered, yet inviting all the same.

"And you must be Prince Felix," she exclaimed with an exuberant coo.

Felix offered a polite smile as she scrutinized his face with intensity, her gaze shifting to Hyunjin.

"Oh, young Jinnie, what in the heavens did you sacrifice to the gods to be blessed with such a treasure like this? Are you truly capable of safeguarding something as precious as this angelic being?" the lady declared passionately, drawing a sincere smile from Felix, who never imagined any Levanter citizen would show him such affection. Quite the contrary. It was a refreshing to be regarded as a jewel once again rather than an outsider intent on dismantling their kingdom.

Hyunjin shrugged. "I offered my sanity, among other things," he replied with a mischievous glint, provoking a hearty laugh from the woman and a knowing smirk from Felix, who realized there was a sliver of truth in Hyunjin's words.

She turned back to Felix with a fierce kindness in her eyes. "If he gives you any trouble, sweetheart, don’t you dare hesitate to come to me. I'll straighten him out for you," she whispered with exaggerated intensity, her hands caressing his as if he were a fragile, injured creature.

Felix laughed heartily, nodding as Hyunjin pretended to be mortally offended.

“Alright, Mrs. Mae, don’t you have pressing work to get to?" Hyunjin teased, his tone light yet carrying a friendly challenge.

She chuckled, giving his arm a playful yet firm swat. "And you too, young Jinnie. This poor angel looks like he’s withering away!” she declared, grabbing Felix’s waist to emphasize her point about his thinness.

Felix shook his head with determination, trying to reassure her. “It’s just been... a struggle adjusting to Levanter, that's all. I actually had a fine breakfast. I truly appreciate your concern,” he responded with careful diplomacy, offering a respectful bow as she patted his hip and let him go.

She bowed back with vigor, leaving to join the group of elderly ladies across the courtyard. They waved enthusiastically, their smiles wide and bright, even beaming at Felix, who returned their greetings with equal warmth.

As much as he wanted to despise his fate, this kingdom was a surprising anomaly. Despite the oppressive, shadowy tones surrounding him, the inhabitants exuded an unnerving friendliness and cheerfulness, which was the last thing he had anticipated. He briefly wondered if he had perished in the throes of passion, finding himself in a bizarre purgatory. Surely, it had to be some kind of dream.

That illusion shattered violently when something slammed into Felix's back with the force of a freight train, sending him crashing to the unforgiving stone pavement on his hands and knees. Chaos erupted behind him, a cacophony of shouts from all directions. Before he could make sense of the turmoil, strong arms hooked beneath his armpits, yanking him upright with a speed and force that left his head spinning from the sudden motion.

He turned to face his savior, Hyunjin, who positioned himself in front of Felix like a human shield, bracing for an impending clash. Felix peered over Hyunjin's shoulder, eyes wide as he took in the scene: several people struggling to restrain a hulking, muscular man, his body a tapestry of old, weathered scars betraying a lifetime of battles, despite his youthful appearance.

Minho stood defiantly in front of the man, his hands outstretched in a desperate attempt to calm the storm of anger as the man hurled venomous curses at Felix. The air was thick with tension, as a few others joined in the verbal assault, their faces twisted with disdain, yet none dared to cross the line into violence. Nearby, a woman with a face marked by scars and life’s harshness, perhaps in her mid-thirties, was on her knees, pleading hysterically for the man being restrained not to escalate the chaos.

"You bring that... that THING into our midst and flaunt it as if we should rejoice in its presence?! I'd rather have seen you perish at the hands of the elves than bow to one of them!" The man's voice cracked with fury.

"I bow to no one but Minho!" Hyunjin retorted with a voice as steady as steel, shielding Felix protectively behind him.

Felix was engulfed by a wave of terror, feeling exposed and outnumbered. Instinctively, he gripped the back of Hyunjin’s vest with a desperation that turned his knuckles bone-white.

The man’s eyes widened in disbelief that Hyunjin hadn’t risen to his provocation, his lips curling into a sneer before he spat contemptuously at the ground.

"Oi! Is that so? Before that thing was here, you’d have pummeled me before I finished speaking! What’s become of you? Has that creature tamed the dragon?" he jeered loudly, his words dripping with scorn, drawing cruel laughter from the onlookers. "We’ve lost our kingdom's greatest weapon to enchanted pussy!" More laughter rang out, harsh and mocking.

Hyunjin was a coiled spring of rage, his body taut with the effort of restraint, practically vibrating with the force of his fury. Felix could feel the storm brewing within him, convinced Hyunjin was on the verge of unleashing his wrath and eviscerating the man. But when Hyunjin let out a low growl, taking an almost imperceptible step forward, Felix pulled him back sharply. Summoning courage from some hidden reserve, Felix stepped in front of Hyunjin, even as Minho urged them to disregard the provocateur and walk away, promising to handle the situation.

Felix burned with the urge to shout that he wasn’t just some object, not a ‘thing,’ but a living, breathing being with emotions as real as theirs. He hadn't chosen this path, wasn’t a menace to their home, but when he finally spoke, his words cut through the air, leaving everyone stunned, himself most of all.

"Is this how you speak to your Commander?" His voice was an unwavering blade against the chaos within, seething with fury at their dehumanization. “Of course, it is, because you see him as no more human than me. An object. An animal. A weapon. Nothing less, nothing more. You deserve punishment for such treasonous words and should beg for his mercy! You’d be in chains, mere slaves, had he not fought for your lives just last week."

In the distance, he heard someone label him mad amidst the surging whispers of the crowd, and the furious man roared with anger, violently wrenching free from those restraining him, unleashing pandemonium with screams, cheers, and jeers reverberating in the air.

The king’s guards stormed in, trying to quell the riotous crowd as Felix stumbled backward, only to have Hyunjin clasp his wrist in a vise-like grip, dragging the elf through the labyrinthine pathways of Levanter, with Minho desperately attempting to restore order.

Peals of mocking laughter and venomous insults trailed after them, most aimed at Felix, but some targeted Hyunjin, who brushed them off. Yet, Felix couldn’t help but notice the simmering wound beneath Hyunjin’s calm facade after the tumultuous encounter.

“Where are we—“

“We have freedom of speech here— it’s not treason to voice concerns! I didn’t need your fucking help!” Hyunjin interrupted furiously, charging down the grimy alleys like a storm unleashed. “He’s just abrasive! He does this shit all the time! He doesn’t mean any harm!”

“Oh? Then what is all that and why are we running?!” Felix fired back, his voice cracking with heat as he struggled to keep up, his robes betraying him as they tangled around his legs, his hands stinging and raw from his topple.

“He doesn’t mean any harm to me! You’re a fucking elf, remember?” Hyunjin snapped, his words like the crack of a whip.

“No shit, I remember! I know who I am unlike yourself! I don’t take on whatever role fits my narrative at the given moment—” Felix shot back, his voice rising, but was abruptly silenced as he was slammed against the nearest wall, the impact jarring but not entirely painful, forcing a groan from his lips.

Hyunjin loomed over him, caging him in with arms like iron bars on either side of his head, his eyes damp and ringed in the red of holding back something complex, something far more precarious than anger. His breath, ragged and tinged with the faintest note of something desperate, fanned Felix’s cheek.

“Listen to me, elf,” Hyunjin snarled, but the venom in his voice missed its mark, under cut by a tremor that sounded dangerously close to vulnerability.

Before he could finish, Felix erupted with a vehement, "No!"

Driven by a surge of adrenaline and defiance, he seized Hyunjin's vest with an iron grip and drove his knee into his abdomen with brutal force. The commander crumpled slightly, gasping in pain, allowing Felix to swivel their positions, slamming Hyunjin against the wall with unrelenting force. Breathing heavily, Felix locked eyes with him, his glare a fiery blade of challenge and defiance, but also something else—a desperate plea for sense in a world that had none to spare.

“I don’t care that you didn’t ’need my help’. I didn’t need yours either. I could have stayed back and fought if need be. But tell me, Hwang Hyunjin, why is it that I can hold you in the dead of night while you cry into my arms about things you should have never experienced, yet in daylight, the second you sense you may be perceived as weak by someone, anyone, you immediately lash out like this? You heard the man. You’re a dragon— a weapon. Is that synonymous with weak? No. Not at all. What fool calls a dragon weak? But is it an insult to the humanity within you, a being capable of compassion, love, empathy, and countless other beautiful attributes? Absolutely, but that does not offend you. Does it? No. Tell me why, Hyunjin. Tell me why, I beg you, because you are truly an enigma that I may never unravel, yet I feel compelled to try, again and again, despite every logical instinct urging me otherwise," Felix ranted, his voice filled with urgency and his breath heavy as he struggled to calm his racing heart. He stood firm, his body tense and unmoving, waiting for some sort of answer or reaction. His eyes were wild, bulging with a manic intensity, glistening with an unsettling sheen of moisture, demanding a response, any response, as if Hyunjin's words could anchor him to the earth, or at least explain why every sensation since crossing the border had felt like whiplash.

Hyunjin panted from exertion, his chest rising and falling heavily. His eyes were wide, staring at Felix with a mixture of surprise and confusion, clearly caught off guard by the intensity of Felix’s actions and words. He struggled to process the torrent of emotions Felix had unleashed, his lips parted as if the words had vanished somewhere between his tongue and teeth.

For a moment, the alley was silent, flooded only with the sound of their harsh breathing and the distant echo of chaos from the square

After a tense moment, when it became painfully obvious that Hyunjin would not, or perhaps could not, provide an answer, Felix’s expression crumbled into a sorrowful frown. He released Hyunjin, feeling the weight of resignation settle over him like a shroud.

"I need to know who you truly are—who I am truly married to… what part of you is… you, and what is your armor," he implored, his voice dropping to a defeated whisper. The fight drained from him completely as he turned away, retreating toward the place where the chaos was finally ebbing. But suddenly, he felt a sharp, insistent tug on his wrist, yanking him back toward Hyunjin, who seized the moment. With urgency, Hyunjin cupped a hand around the base of Felix's skull and pulled him into a fierce, unexpected kiss.

Abruptly, Felix found himself in the middle of the Levanter market square. The rain pounded down relentlessly, yet it couldn't deter the throngs of people hustling with determined urgency to their destinations. Felix stood rooted to the spot, feeling like an alien in his own skin, a stranger to himself. Everything around him seemed slightly warped, a twisted version of reality that looked normal at first glance but filled him with a profound sense of disconnection and unease.

Then, through the chaotic swirl of the crowd, he spotted a face that struck him like a bolt of lightning. It was familiar, yet unsettlingly different—Minho, moving with frantic energy, eyes darting left and right as if desperately searching for something. This face was far younger than Felix remembered, a ghost from the past in the form of a preteen boy, standing out in sharp relief against the blurred and shifting forms around him in this surreal dreamscape.

Several people called out to Minho with eager greetings, but he brushed them off, his eyes scanning the bustling marketplace with a frantic desperation. Felix trailed behind him, curiosity piqued by Minho's fervent search. The scene seemed to speed up, the sky above shifting ominously as Felix's gaze followed. Suddenly, he was confronted by a disturbing sight: a group of preteen boys gathered by a creek, their cruel laughter echoing as one boy's face was brutally submerged in the water, legs thrashing wildly against his assailant.

"Do it! Come on! Do it, freak! We just want to play!" the tormentor jeered viciously, his companions egging him on with malicious glee. He yanked the boy's head up by the hair, allowing a desperate gasp of air before plunging him back into the icy stream with ruthless force.

"Release him now!" Minho roared, bursting into the scene like a force of nature. He seized the ringleader's clothes with unyielding strength, wrenching him savagely away from his prey. Minho then drew the drenched child from the water, his movements gentle yet urgent, brushing aside wet locks to soothe the boy's silent, shuddering sobs. The kid was shattered, his breath ragged from his near-drowning terror.

A few of the other kids scattered in fear at Minho's commanding presence, undeniably evident even at such a young age, yet the leader stood his ground, defiance etched into his sneer.

"Look at you... defending your mommy’s little monster," he spat, his words dripping with venom. "What happened to the Minho who would have pelted him with rocks?" His laughter was hollow and mocking. "What will you do when he finally turns on you and eats your entire family?"

Minho spun on his heel from where he crouched beside the sobbing boy, launching himself at the kid with ferocious intent, slamming him to the ground and clamping his hand around the boy's throat with unwavering force.

"He is not a monster!” Minho snarled through gritted teeth. "If you wanted to play with a monster, you should have sought me instead," he threatened, his voice a venomous growl as he raised his fist high, ready to unleash his fury.

The kid flailed beneath him, desperately clawing at Minho's arm, gasping for air, until another pair of hands grabbed Minho’s shirt collar, yanking him away effortlessly before the impending strike could land.

"What did I tell you about indulging in such pathetic child’s play?" The woman chided, her voice laced with mocking amusement despite Minho's seething glare as he scrambled to his feet.

“They were—“

A resounding slap echoed like a thunderclap as her palm cracked against his face, silencing Minho instantly, leaving Felix struck dumbfounded and the bully scampering away like the cowardly vermin he was.

“If you are to be king one day, you cannot turn everyone against you before you even ascend the throne,” she cautioned softly, her words a razor-sharp warning.

Minho nursed his stinging cheek, his expression a storm of defiance. “Was I just supposed to stand there and let them kill him?” He gestured angrily at the younger boy, who lay curled on the ground, sobbing in a defenseless ball.

Felix moved closer, realizing the gravity of the memory that his presence wouldn’t disrupt. He knelt gently beside the crying boy, his heart shattering like fragile glass as he recognized the fierce eyes, even through the torrent of tears mingling with the blood from vicious wounds on his face. Hyunjin. He'd clearly suffered a brutal beating. How could anyone inflict such cruelty on someone so young, so innocent? He looked so small... no older than eight or nine at most.

“They treat him like an animal, mom!” Minho shouted, his voice ringing with indignation.

The woman, whom Felix now realized was their mother, stepped up to Minho, her presence commanding as she placed a firm hand on his shoulder. She leaned in, her voice a fierce whisper meant only for Minho, yet Felix heard it as if it were a chilling declaration in his own ears.

“He is an animal, Minho. Make no mistake about that. You can love him to your heart’s content, but never, and I mean never, ever forget what lies beneath the surface, do you understand me?” Her words were like iron, her gaze piercing into Minho's eyes, which shimmered with a sadness that reluctantly nodded in compliance.

She stroked his cheek with a tenderness that belied the gravity of her previous actions before casting a sympathetic glance at Hyunjin and kneeling beside him with a gentle grace.

Hyunjin shivered and coughed weakly, curled into himself, his shame a palpable weight that kept his eyes averted from both his mother and brother. He trembled in fear and humiliation, despite the warm air around them.

She ran her fingers through his hair, her touch soothing, her voice a gentle balm as she murmured apologies for the cruelty he endured. Her eyes flicked back to Minho.

“Go and get the plumpest sow in the market. I’ll prepare something extraordinary tonight, and I’ll even let you boys enjoy it in bed,” she offered, her tone suddenly light and inviting.

Minho's face lit up, a wide grin spreading as he dashed off with a newfound purpose.

Once he was beyond earshot, his mother exhaled a deep, weary sigh, her hand falling from her tender caress as her eyes settled on Hyunjin with an inscrutable look.

The way Hyunjin's gaze pierced into her made Felix shudder violently; terror etched deeply into his bruised and battered face, an undeniable reminder that he was far from safe, despite the brief tenderness of her touch moments before.

Without warning, she clamped her fingers like a vice around his hair, wrenching his head brutally from the grass, dragging him mercilessly toward the creek where the bullies had nearly drowned him before. He writhed desperately, flailing against her iron grip, powerless to escape the relentless tugging on his scalp.

She crashed to her knees by the water's edge, grappling with Hyunjin as he unleashed a torrent of curses, each word laced with a faint accent, almost an impediment, until she forced his head under the water with savage force. He kicked and struggled frantically, fighting for survival.

With a violent yank, she hauled him upward, spitting venomously, “You let those peasants treat you like this, Hyunjin?”

She plunged him under again, longer this time, long enough for Felix to start counting nervously in his head, anxiety twisting in his gut as he watched in horror from the shore.

She dragged him back out, his lungs heaving for air, body convulsing with terror as she screamed, “What are you? Weak?!”

She shoved him under again, a brief yet brutal submersion, before wrenching him back up, her voice a thunderous roar. “Are you weak, Hyunjin?!”

Hyunjin sobbed incoherently, his head shaking frantically as she dunked him once more, only to yank him back up, her voice a blistering shout in his ear.

“ARE YOU WEAK?!” she bellowed ruthlessly, each word punctuated with another violent, shuddering dunk beneath the water's surface.

This time, when she yanked him out, Felix's heart nearly seized as Hyunjin's face twisted into something nightmarish. His pupils shrank to pinpricks, and his irises blazed with that terrifying blood-red hue Felix had seen before. Hyunjin's teeth were bared in a feral snarl, and he unleashed a growl that rumbled far too deeply for his age or even for Hyunjin’s usual adult voice.

“I AM NOT WEAK!” He roared, the sound dripping with menace, as if he might lash out and bite her if she dared approach. Felix scrambled backward, his mind racing with fear of the monstrous act Hyunjin might unleash. But instead, he stood frozen in shock as she smiled with unsettling glee, patting Hyunjin's head with a twisted sense of comfort, ruffling his wet hair before loosening her iron grip. She kissed his forehead with an unsettling affection, as if fearless in the face of the beast.

“Then show them," she commanded, her voice a chilling whisper of encouragement.

Felix saw it again. The very thing he had glimpsed in those menacing eyes the night Hyunjin had nearly killed him. While Hyunjin’s mother looked upon a ruthless beast, Felix felt as if he saw a creature consumed with such rage it could topple the world, and also a desperate young boy trapped behind a wall of glass, silently pleading with himself not to commit the unspeakable.

“Show them, Hyunjin,” she repeated, her voice a stern echo of inevitability.

In the blink of an eye, Felix found himself in the throne room, watching as the mother sat regally atop her throne, her presence commanding as she addressed the endless stream of citizens who filtered through the audience chambers.

Minho stood beside her with unwavering loyalty, impeccably dressed and embodying her regality. The absence of Seungmin and Hyunjin was palpable. A middle-aged couple approached cautiously, bowing deeply before the queen, who returned the gesture with a sharp nod, Minho mirroring her movements, vigilant by her side.

"What brings you here, Lord and Lady Shin?" the queen inquired, her voice laced with an edge of impatience, her mind already reaching for the next encounter.

"We came to extend our sincerest apologies to you, Your Majesty, and to the crown. We hope our loyalty and allegiance have not suffered any damages due to our son's insolence," they pleaded, voices trembling.

Felix edged closer, curiosity piqued.

The queen's lips curled into a sardonic smirk, her posture relaxed as she crossed one leg over the other with deliberate grace. Her voice dripped with cold indifference, "You apologize out of fear you'll meet the same grim fate as your boy, but you need not worry. As long as you are faithful to the crown, my child poses no threat. I extend my condolences, and in a gesture of goodwill, I'll pray you are bestowed with another child in due time, and this time, one worthy of carrying on your bloodline."

With a dismissive wave of her hand, she cut the conversation short, and they retreated quickly, as if fleeing from a storm.

Felix stood frozen in disbelief, his mind racing to comprehend the horror he had just witnessed. What had become of their son? Was it that same vicious boy who tormented Hyunjin by the creek? The brutal words. The chilling absence of empathy. The sheer audacity. These parents, supposedly mourning the loss of a child, were now under the thumb of a tyrant, forced into a humiliating dance of apologies. Their sorrow was raw, palpable, and yet they were reduced to this.

The child was undeniably a bully, but he hadn't even crossed the threshold into puberty. Was delivering him to Hyunjin’s demon for execution really the answer? He was just a young, moldable boy with the potential to evolve into a decent human being. And using another child as the executioner? That was a new level of moral decay. The thought made him feel sick to his core. Felix observed Minho's face twist with bewilderment, his eyes darting to his mother, who merely smiled with a chilling coyness, brushing his cheek with unsettling tenderness and promising they’d discuss it later.

In an electrifying flash, Felix was violently thrust into Hyunjin's bedchambers, yet these were not the familiar chambers he shared with the man now. Instead, the surroundings screamed of a different era, a vivid tapestry of the past.

But any trace of the child version of the man was absent until suddenly, he emerged from the bathroom, clad in soft cotton pajamas adorned with tiny, fierce red dragons that seemed to dance across the fabric. His eyes were downcast, a weary shadow cast over his features as he trudged out, flinging a damp towel aside carelessly before collapsing into bed. He looked so pure, so heartbreakingly innocent, despite the grim truths Felix now understood lurked beneath that sweet, angelic face.

Just as the kid laid his head to rest, the door creaked open with agonizing slowness, revealing a sinister silhouette shrouded in darkness. The room was void of windows or any source of light, leaving Felix with nothing but the vague outline of a grown man, ominous and foreboding.

Suddenly, everything went black. Felix felt suspended in an abyss of nothingness, his senses reduced to hearing alone as the scene played out.

“You know she just wants you to grow strong," the stranger reasoned, his voice chillingly calm. “There is no place for weakness here. You know that, don’t you?”

Hyunjin didn’t reply, only hummed softly, a sound that resonated with reluctant understanding yet simmered with displeasure.

A heavy silence followed, punctuated only by a soft rustling that sent shivers down Felix’s spine.

“You are growing so strong, blossoming into such a handsome young man," the mystery man praised, his words dripping with an unsettling intimacy.

Felix’s senses screamed in alarm, his entire being bristling with instinctive dread as if surrounded by a cacophony of warning sirens.

He strained to hear beyond the suffocating silence, only catching the faint rustle of movement.

“Please… Not now. I don’t feel good," came Hyunjin’s voice at last, muffled and nearly swallowed by the oppressive dark, trembling with a terror so raw it clawed at Felix’s heart. The urge to intervene seized him with a ferocity that made him physically recoil, his heart pounding like a war drum.

The man’s voice slithered through the darkness again, a hushed whisper, "Shhh. Only weak boys cry,” he admonished, with the twisted tenderness of a parent scolding a child for tears shed over scraped knees.

Felix felt a wave of nausea crash over him. He spun around frantically, running in every direction, desperate—no, DESPERATE—to halt the horror unfolding before him. Even as he realized it was just a haunting memory, the overwhelming desire to rescue Hyunjin engulfed him. From that man. From his mother. From everyone.

In an instant, Felix slammed into an unseen barrier and snapped his eyes open, finding himself pinning Hyunjin against the unyielding wall, their lips fused together in a fervent embrace.

The moment shattered abruptly when Felix grasped the reality of what had transpired, wrenching himself away with a startled, animal sound, hands splayed against Hyunjin’s chest as though he could push the nightmares out of both their bodies, leaving them locked in a silent, bewildered gaze.

Felix was drenched in sweat and tears, his eyes wide and mouth agape as he struggled to comprehend how long he had been lost within Hyunjin's mind and the shocking revelations he had witnessed.

Overwhelmed by an avalanche of emotions and choking on the intensity of it all, Felix stumbled backward, spinning around before collapsing into violent convulsions, his stomach heaving uncontrollably until only bile and stomach acid splattered the cobblestones beneath him.

Hyunjin’s confidence and self-esteem plummeted in a silent, devastating crash at the sight of the elf's profuse retching. He averted his gaze, crestfallen, and looked back just in time to see Felix fleeing, stumbling clumsily through a bustling side street in a desperate bid to escape.

“Yongbok!” Hyunjin cried, his voice laced with desperation as he gave chase, yearning for an explanation. But he froze, dumbfounded, when he found no trace of the elf's distinctive blonde hair—nothing ahead but a sea of strangers.

Hyunjin’s mind raced as the world tilted off its axis, the taste of bile and bitter regret burning the back of his throat. He doubled over, hands fisted in his hair, squeezing until the pain forced his mind to focus.

How had Felix vanished so swiftly? And why? Had they not shared a moment of raw intimacy, their bodies entwined in passion on the ride to the city? Why did Felix now recoil as if repulsed by him? Had he misinterpreted everything so gravely? The most baffling mystery of all was—why did Hyunjin even care so deeply about the elf's feelings towards him?

Chapter Text

Felix felt like he couldn't breathe, each gasp of air a desperate attempt to choke back the sobs rising in his throat. As he wove his way through the bustling crowd, his unique appearance drew many curious and bewildered glances, but he was far beyond caring. The opinions of these strangers meant nothing to him now, not when he felt so painfully unstable, every fiber of his being unraveling in a chaotic mess. His chest tightened with each shallow breath, the world around him a blur as he struggled to organize the whirlwind of thoughts crashing through his mind and make sense of the shocking scene he had just witnessed.

He hadn't intended to delve into Hyunjin's past, nor had he consciously meant to trigger any kind of power. Yet here he was, lost within the labyrinth of his own mind, craving the kind of solace that the crisp air of Levanter simply couldn't provide. Felix longed for a quiet refuge where he could sit, think, and perhaps drown his troubles in the comforting haze of alcohol, hoping to find an escape from this overwhelming chaos—or simply succumb to the oblivion of passing out. But it was still well before noon, and he doubted any establishment would serve drinks at such an early hour, leaving him to wander, searching for a temporary sanctuary amidst the bustling sea of people.

It was all too much, and he could no longer endure the crushing weight of it all. Desperation clawed at him as he stumbled forward, his hands frantically skimming along the surfaces of every building he passed, using them to keep from collapsing. He twisted every doorknob in his path with feverish urgency, indifferent to the legality of his actions, his only prayer being that someone inside would offer sanctuary rather than cast him back out into the chaos. He didn't care if it was a general store, a butcher shop, a blacksmith's forge, a bakery, or a private home—any place that could shield him from the brutal onslaught of reality was all he sought.

At last, a door swung open, and a man emerged, seemingly from some establishment. Felix didn't hesitate; he surged forward, shoving past the man with a wild determination. Fortune, fickle as it was, smiled upon him for once—the man didn't react with hostility. It was a reckless gamble, considering that if the man was leaving for work and leaving his family vulnerable, most would have reacted with violence to a stranger barging in. But luck held, and Felix found himself inside, breathing heavily, heart pounding, grasping at this momentary reprieve from the madness outside.

The man let out a deep, rumbling chuckle, glancing over his shoulder at Felix, who seemed to be teetering on the edge of sanity, spinning frantically as if the walls were closing in on him. "Someone's eager. Get the young man a room," he commanded with a silky authority. A woman emerged from behind the counter, curtsying with practiced grace before motioning for Felix to follow her up a creaky staircase.

Felix nodded vigorously, almost desperately. "Yes...Yes! A room! That's what I need," he sputtered, his voice trembling with anxiety as he panted after the woman. She led him to a secluded room at the end of a dimly lit hallway, opening the door to reveal a modest bedchamber that, though simple, offered a temporary balm to his frazzled nerves. The wooden walls were impeccably maintained, and the sparse furnishings included nothing more than a plain bed and a nightstand.

But then—Felix's breath caught as he took in the rest of the room. "Oh," he exhaled, eyes widening in shock. The room's true nature became horrifyingly clear. Beyond the basic furnishings lay an array of items that bore a chilling resemblance to torture devices—yet these were crafted not for pain, but for restraint. Ropes, silk cloths, straps, shackles, padded cushions, and cuffs were scattered about, each meticulously designed for the comfort of their bound subjects, a stark contrast to instruments of agony. He glanced at the woman, unease twisting in his gut.

"First time?" she asked warmly, her smile a gentle invitation.

Felix felt his composure slipping, shame crashing over him like a tidal wave. He shook his head with force, trying to hold back tears. "No. No, not no. Yes. Yes, I haven't... But no, I am not—I don't—"

"It's always nerve-wracking the first time," she reassured him, her voice soothing yet firm. "But I swear, our establishment is the most discreet—"

"No!" Felix interrupted, his breath coming in rapid, shallow gasps as panic clawed at his throat. He was on the brink of an anxiety attack. "I didn't know. I don't want to use your services. I just need somewhere quiet to be alone with my thoughts," he managed to say, though his voice trembled with the effort to remain calm. "Please... I'll pay you double for the room—"

She gently placed her hand on his shoulder, and Felix shuddered violently at the unexpected touch, his nerves fraying at the edges.

"How does a Feloran end up in a brothel in the heart of Levanter?" she inquired, her tone curious but not unkind.

Felix swallowed hard, his mind locking up like a malfunctioning machine at the question. He stood paralyzed, as if a blinding light had captured him, grappling with the truth he was terrified to admit. How could he possibly articulate that he was the commander's new husband, here in the city for a carefree day of social encounters, only to stumble upon the haunting echoes of his husband's past? That discovery had sent him fleeing, desperate to find a secluded place to unravel, to weep, to spiral into the abyss of his own desolation.

Before he could gather even a fragment of an answer, his voice evaporated completely as she reached up to stroke his hair with a delicate curiosity that felt like a probing invasion.

"You're him... aren't you?" Her words were almost a whisper meant more for herself than for him, yet they pierced through the suffocating silence. "The Prince of Beauty, the Realm's Ray of Sunlight, now husband of our very own commander," she reiterated with a clear, awestruck intensity, her eyes fixated on Felix with an unyielding stare.

After the way some people had reacted to him before, he was on edge about revealing his identity in this secluded place where no one would likely stumble upon his lifeless body. But concealing who he was proved impossible with those unmistakable gold flecks swirling in his irises, the shimmering platinum hair, and the stark white royal garb screaming his heritage. He remained silent, nodding slowly in agreement, heart pounding in anticipation of a scream or slap. Instead, she nodded with surprising sympathy.

"And why is it that you seek refuge, elf?" she demanded, her voice laced with a mix of concern and suspicion, her eyes boring into him. "You must understand I am a Daughter of Levanter, and my loyalties lie with its people. Forgive my intrusion, but I must know your reasons to determine if I will offer my aid."

Felix’s jaw clenched like a vice, his eyes dropping to his feet, wrestling with the weight of his words and the fear of their consequences.

"You must understand," she pressed, her voice sharp as a blade, "if it is something that aligns with treason, I will have no choice—"

"My name is Felix!" he burst out, his voice cracking with raw desperation. "I am not a spy, nor am I here to cause harm to your people. I just—" His words faltered as his breath hitched, the weight of his confession threatening to crush him.

He finally resolved that bending the truth was a necessary evil. He clung to this decision with a fervent hope, his heart pounding with the anticipation of what might unfold.

"Hyunjin raised his voice at me, and it upset me. So I raised my voice back, and it upset him. I was frustrated with how he could allow me into his chambers, and yet simultaneously shut me out and keep me at arm's length. So I am ignoring him momentarily," Felix articulated, carefully distilling the events to their bare essence without revealing the intricate layers of truth or the vivid memories during their kiss.

The lady offered a sympathetic smile, tinged with a hint of amusement, as she gently patted Felix's shoulder in a gesture of comfort before ushering him into the room. "Commander Hyunjin is... unique," she concurred, her voice warm as they moved into the softly lit bedroom. “Apart from this quarrel, I sincerely hope to hear that he is treating you with kindness and respect..."

Felix remained silent, his eyes drifting to the window as he attempted to project an air of nonchalance, the sunlight casting a serene glow across the room. Yet, when he stole a glance at her face, he couldn't help but notice the shadow of disappointment clouding her features at his lack of response.

"He tolerates my presence when it suits his needs, I suspect," Felix murmured quietly, his voice laced with an undercurrent of melancholy. "More often than not, though I trust he would not physically harm me, his disdain for me is apparent. Given the circumstances, it's hard not to internalize his coldness," he admitted, surprised at the vulnerability that had slipped past his carefully constructed defenses.

Why couldn’t he just lie, he seethed internally. This woman was fiercely loyal to the crown, and speaking ill of the king’s brother could spell disaster for him. Yet, he was mentally drained to the breaking point. He craved the oblivion of sleep, perhaps even an eternal slumber, but he knew that hiding from this ordeal would only postpone the inevitable reckoning. He had to face it head-on, to march back out there and confront Hyunjin. They needed to dissect the events of earlier, to confront the raw truth of what he had witnessed. And on top of that, they had to address why Hyunjin had suddenly kissed him in such a moment.

The woman sighed deeply, her chest heaving with the weight of her emotions. "I see..." she murmured, her voice thick with reluctance. "I will tell you, he has made tremendous strides since Queen Mother Soyi found him. I was just a young teenager then, but I so clearly remember the day she introduced her new son to the kingdom. She proclaimed the immense power he would one day wield and the crucial role he would play in the kingdom's prosperity. She was undoubtedly right, though we couldn't have known it at the time," she recounted, her eyes glinting with a mix of deep nostalgia and vivid recollection, as if reliving the event in the present moment.

"But back then, he was wild—always biting, kicking, and screaming like a feral beast. Naturally, his arrival was anything but a warm welcome. He was a tiny terrorist, wreaking havoc across Levanter, until somehow, against all odds, she managed to tame him. I guess she grew tired of having to pin him down to scrape human flesh from his teeth everyday," she chuckled darkly, before her tone shifted to one of somber reflection.

"I wish I could say that was the end of it, but even when he was tamed down, there was a darkness in him and he… took many lives for no other reason than I assume compulsion,” she confessed softly, glancing around suspiciously as if she feared listening ears.

"Though his troublesome behavior did seem to diminish or at least slow down in his youth, it coincided with him becoming the commander so perhaps he just found a new outlet. I'd love to assure you he's harmless, but I can't say I know him well enough to make that claim. When he was appointed commander by his brother, it did appear as though he sought desperately to amend his past mistakes. So now, thankfully, his fury is directed at our enemies, and we have a young commander who defends us with every fiber of his being, respects his elders, volunteers often, and ensures no one goes hungry. I’m not entirely sure what my point is, but my advice is this: he seems to have a constant internal struggle. You can either choose the side you prefer and hope he does too, or you can accept and love both parts of him," she advised, trying to instill some hope in Felix despite her own uncertainty.

Felix sighed heavily, feeling frustrated and choosing not to argue about the futility of accepting such uncertainty, as she didn't grasp the reality of his situation. At most, Hyunjin only found him physically appealing.

"So, I should love and embrace the part of him that resents me for being a Feloran?"

She shook her head, looking at Felix intently. "I wish I could give you a more satisfying answer, but honesty is all I can offer. Marriages thrive on communication. Avoiding the issue won't solve it, and it won't bring closure or resolution for either of you. I urge you to speak openly with him and let your vulnerabilities show."

Felix looked at her with disbelief. He truly appreciated her wisdom and sentiment. "How can you give such sound advice yet stay willingly in this profession?" As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted being so judgmental and harsh, realizing he had acted impulsively and insensitively—traits he disliked in his husband.

She chuckled softly, a sly smile playing on her lips as she gently patted the elf's shoulder. "I truly enjoy my profession. Not everyone shares that sentiment, especially those who grew up in conservative households," she replied with a glimmer of amusement in her eyes, prompting Felix to flush a deep shade of red, embarrassed by his earlier assumption. "Maintaining a healthy and active sex life is also a key to a successful marriage," she added with a playful glint, nudging him lightly with her elbow.

Felix let out an awkward snort, his cheeks turning an even deeper crimson. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure before nodding respectfully. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you for your advice, but I would appreciate a moment alone with my thoughts, if that’s alright," he said earnestly, his voice tinged with sincerity.

"Of course. I've just brewed some fragrant jasmine tea. I'll leave it by the door for you. And don't even think about paying. It's on the house, okay? Only the best for our esteemed commander's newlywed husband. Remember, my door is always open if you want to chat... or if you’re interested in some tips, tricks, and techniques that will have your new man worshipping the very ground you walk upon," she quipped with a mischievous smirk that danced across her lips before giving a playful wave goodbye. But just as she was about to shut the door, Felix's voice rang out.

"Wait!"

She paused, curiosity piquing her interest as she opened the door halfway, her eyes twinkling with intrigue.

Felix licked his dry lips nervously, the words tangled on the tip of his tongue as he wrestled with whether he truly wanted to know. His gaze settled hesitantly on a peculiar piece of furniture in the corner of the room, resembling a tiny picnic table but entirely crafted from plush, cushioned leather. The surfaces were padded on all sides, and numerous chains dangled from its edges, catching the light.

"What is that…?” he asked timidly, bracing himself for an explanation he feared might be more than he bargained for.

She followed his line of sight and chuckled softly. "Ahh...that's a spanking bench," she informed him matter-of-factly, her tone light and unbothered.

Felix felt a queasy flip in his stomach at her response. “Pardon?”

"Spanking bench,” she repeated, drawing out each syllable with exaggerated clarity.

“I have respected the rather peculiar customs of your kingdom thus far, but I am vehemently against corporal punishment—"

She burst into laughter, a melodic sound that filled the room, interrupting the elf before he could further spiral into his tirade. Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she corrected him.

“It’s not for punishment… well, not exactly. It’s for consensual play… for adults who wish to use it,” she explained vaguely, leaving Felix even more puzzled as the concept twisted in his mind, making little sense to his understanding.

Felix simply blinked, tilting his head to the side, his expression a portrait of utter bewilderment. His brows furrowed as he tried to process the perplexing notion presented to him.

“Who would wish to be hit?” Felix exclaimed, his voice tinged with indignation. The very idea of someone deriving pleasure from such an experience seemed unfathomable, almost repulsive, and he nearly recoiled at the thought.

“Some people enjoy spankings. And besides, it’s not only for that purpose. Here,” she instructed with a confident air. She sauntered over to the table, her movements fluid and purposeful. Bending over, she rested her elbows and knees on the plush cushions, adopting a provocative stance. Her gaze flickered to Felix, a casual glance that belied the suggestiveness of her posture. “Now imagine my legs and arms were restrained, leaving me helpless, at the mercy of my partner to do whatever they pleased with me using their mouth, their cock, toys, or whips and paddles.”

Felix's mind raced, nearly cursing his own imagination for its immediate vivid comprehension of the allure. Memories of Hyunjin, writhing in ecstasy, surged to the forefront of his thoughts. His brain painted vivid images of Hyunjin, bound and helpless, unable to resist as Felix repeated the pleasurable torment. The scenario shifted, and Felix envisioned himself in such a contraption, Hyunjin hovering above him, naked, skin gleaming with sweat, eyes ablaze with an insatiable desire as he consumed Felix with fervor, leaving his senses utterly wrecked.

"I... uh..." Felix stammered, his voice barely a whisper, thoroughly dazed and at a loss for words.

The woman straightened up with a lighthearted giggle, brushing imaginary dust from her clothes, her expression smug and self-assured as she regarded Felix. “Like I said… if you need any advice, pointers, or just have questions, I’m your girl," she promised playfully, punctuating her offer with a suggestive wink before exiting the room, the door closing softly behind her.

Felix found himself almost paralyzed, his muscles tense and unyielding, as he stared blankly at the closed door. Her words echoed in his mind, each syllable clear and haunting. His gaze drifted to the bench device, and his imagination took over, vividly conjuring the sensation of Hyunjin driving into him with relentless force from behind, leaving him powerless to do anything but succumb to the overwhelming experience.

Would Hyunjin, with a mischievous glint in his eye, torment him with playful teasing, drawing out the peaks of his desire only to deny him the sweet release, again and again, until Felix was reduced to a sobbing mess, desperate and yearning, yet unable to reach out for relief or touch him? Or would Hyunjin, once given the opportunity, abandon all restraint, his self-control evaporating as he relentlessly pounded with raw intensity, driven by a passion ignited during their previous encounters, where Felix's mere touch had effortlessly dismantled his defenses?

Felix suddenly jolted out of his lewd imaginations, a wave of self-reproach washing over him as he shuddered at the very idea of ever trusting Hyunjin enough to allow himself to be completely restrained and helpless in his presence. The notion was as enticing as it was terrifying. On the positive side, if he ever did find himself in such a predicament, he could always rely on the safety net of magic. Unfortunately, the art of magic was fraught with conditions and limitations that often complicated matters.

With a heavy sigh, Felix moved to sit on the edge of the bed, forcing his wandering mind to concentrate on the tangled web of visions he had witnessed and the implications they carried. How was he going to explain to his husband that he had stumbled upon such intimate memories uninvited? How could he convey that he never intended to uncover anything in such an invasive manner, especially details that he was certain the commander would prefer to keep hidden?

He let himself fall back onto the bed, the soft mattress cradling him as he stared up at the ceiling, the memories replaying in an endless loop in his mind. He was haunted by the image of the queen treating a child she claimed as her own with such cruelty, as if he were nothing more than a monster. Felix couldn't accept the idea that Hyunjin was inherently abrasive; he felt certain these memories confirmed his suspicions.

Why did those children provoke that unnatural side of Hyunjin? Surely, if they were aware of it, they also understood the danger it posed. One boy had apparently learned this lesson the hard way. Was it Hyunjin's retaliation against relentless teasing that shaped him into someone so cold and cruel, or was it the result of his mother's harsh influence? Would Felix ever uncover the truth behind these questions, or was it even worth pursuing this knowledge? Did he truly want to know the answers that lay hidden beneath the surface?

Suddenly, his stomach plummeted like a stone. If their mother was indeed the vile, child-abusing witch he had witnessed, there was no way in hell he would let Minho introduce Jisung to her. Not a chance, even if she had since forgotten everything. What on earth had prompted Minho to suggest such an insane idea?

This led him down another twisted path of curiosity—what exactly had driven her to lose her mind? If a young Hyunjin had ceased his citizen-slaying spree and focused solely on enemies when his brother took the throne, was it because her battle-induced madness had finally released him from her sinister grip? Could she no longer coax that red-eyed beast within him to emerge? What was that creature, truly? Was it an aspect of Hyunjin himself, while Felix desperately clung to the belief that it was a separate entity for reasons beyond comprehension? Was it Levanter magic? Possession, perhaps?

Everything seemed to fit together perfectly while simultaneously unraveling into chaos, and the mounting frustration was driving him insane. And then, of course, there was the matter of the intimacy.

Why had Felix climbed into his lap, driven to a feverish climax, and most importantly, despite the storm raging within him, why did he ache with a fierce longing to do it all over again?

Was it an insatiable hunger to uncover every facet of the man he had pledged his life to? Did he harbor a subconscious conviction that this was the solitary key to unraveling the enigma that consumed him? Did he truly believe it would piece together the endless, chaotic jigsaw of their lives? Or was it merely a feeble, self-deceptive excuse fabricated by his restless mind? He squeezed his eyes shut, desperately attempting to silence the relentless storm in his head, each breath measured and deliberate, a fervent plea that his impulsive defensiveness of both himself and Hyunjin hadn't irreparably shattered this entire journey for the king.

Chapter Text

Hyunjin slumped heavily at the tavern bar beside Changbin, his spirit crushed and his resolve shattered. They had scoured the city for what felt like an eternity, desperately seeking his elusive husband, only to be met with failure at every turn. Changbin had practically dragged him into this noisy refuge, insisting they pause for a moment, assuring him that the elf would eventually surface. But Hyunjin was plagued by a gnawing conviction that Felix despised him so intensely he'd finally made the rational decision to flee entirely. Worse still, a sinister thought haunted him: that Felix had fallen into the clutches of another vengeful, elf-loathing citizen. The potential reality of such a fate twisted his insides, yet he dared not voice it to Changbin, wary of being branded a hypocrite.

True, Hyunjin harbored a deep-seated disdain for the species, but he would never stoop to snatching a lost, bewildered, and harmless elf from the streets to exact retribution for ancestral sins. Not that he suspected Changbin or his regiment of such cruelty; his real fear was that Changbin would point out how Hyunjin himself perpetuated this cycle of hatred with his incendiary rhetoric and constant reminders of the elves' past transgressions.

Hyunjin knew this all too well, yet it wouldn't deter him. Still, a familiar and relentless guilt gnawed at his core, leaving him restless and incapable of savoring a simple snack and drink with his comrade, the burden of his conflicted conscience weighing heavily on his shoulders.

Hyunjin slumped back against the chair, eyes locked on the ceiling with a brooding intensity, shaking his head in frustration, tormented by the thought of never seeing Felix again. Why did the elf vanish without a trace? Hyunjin's blood boiled with the urge to scream in rage, to send out a city-wide decree demanding Felix's immediate return to face the consequences. But he knew his threats were hollow, worthless against the elf's infuriating defiance and independence. Felix had already driven him to the brink of madness, testing his patience in ways he never thought possible.

Though he longed to unleash his fury on the elf once he reappeared, there was no real thrill in the prospect, because deep down, Hyunjin couldn't even convince himself he was truly angry. All he felt was a consuming worry, gnawing at him, which only served to heighten his irritation with Felix, if that was even possible.

"I should inform Minho and have him launch an official search party," Hyunjin muttered, still fixated on the ceiling.

Changbin shook his head, absently picking at his food. "Minho's got a lot on his plate, and that would send him into a panicked frenzy."

Hyunjin slammed his hand down on the table with a sharp thud, snapping his gaze to Changbin as he leaned forward, desperation in his eyes, but Changbin remained unfazed. "It's sending me into a panicked frenzy!" Hyunjin shouted, his voice cracking with exasperation.

Changbin chewed deliberately, swallowing before meeting Hyunjin's gaze with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

Hyunjin's glare was fierce, demanding an explanation, but Changbin stayed silent, choosing instead to take another bite, his soft chuckle echoing like a taunt.

“What’s so fucking funny?" Hyunjin demanded, his voice sharp and unyielding as he leaned in, daring Changbin to mock him further, while Changbin burst into laughter.

“It’s just that not long ago, you would have celebrated and sent offerings to the heavens if Felix vanished. But now, look at you, spiraling into madness because he’s not right here in front of you," Changbin shot back, his amusement barely contained as he reveled in the irony.

Hyunjin’s jaw tightened, a clear signal that he wouldn’t allow Changbin to pry any deeper into his turmoil.

“It’s because we’re in the heart of the city, and you know full well that many in Levanter still harbor a deep-seated hatred for elves. He could be in grave danger,” Hyunjin explained, his voice laced with urgency and underlying fear.

"That's exactly what I'm getting at—aren't you one of them? So why do you even care? Why aren't you doing backflips with excitement?" Changbin probed, suspicion heavy in his voice as he continued eating with a deceptive calmness.

Hyunjin swallowed his juice in a hurried gulp. "I know what you're getting at, and you're out of your fucking mind," he shot back with a sharp edge.

Changbin tilted his head, feigning innocence with a sly grin. "Are you sure? Because I'm pretty certain he was trying to make you jealous the other night, and Chae is absolutely certain it was working," he retorted, recalling the conversation he’d shared with his wife about the peculiar duo.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes with exaggerated disdain. "Bullshit."

Changbin leaned in, his gaze piercing and accusatory. "Are you calling my wife a liar?" he challenged, mockingly affronted, sparking the faintest twitch of a smirk on Hyunjin's lips.

"Fucking whipped," Hyunjin scoffed with a derisive snort.

"Damn right!" Changbin declared with unbridled pride, not missing a beat.

Hyunjin chuckled briefly before releasing a heavy sigh, slumping back into his seat with renewed dejection.

“Look, I just don’t want Minho on my ass about it. I don’t want to deal with that,” He confessed, though he was desperately trying to convince both Changbin and himself. They both knew the undeniable truth—somehow, someway, somewhere deep within, Hyunjin harbored even the slightest flicker of care for the elf.

For the sake of his sanity, Hyunjin knew he had to stop battling against his own emotions and finally accept them, justifying it as a natural response after Felix had saved his life and his dignity. Yet, it could be argued that the elf witnessing and handling the situation—a situation Hyunjin believed he could have effortlessly averted years ago, before it ever occurred, but chose not to for a reason beyond his comprehension—had mercilessly stripped him of every shred of dignity he once possessed. Nevertheless, Felix had displayed unparalleled honor, loyalty, bravery, and sacrifice.

Hyunjin noticed Changbin's grin creeping wider.

“What?” Hyunjin snapped with a mix of irritation and vulnerability.

“Didn’t you just suggest we inform Minho?” Changbin pointed out, the words cutting through Hyunjin's facade, leaving him with nowhere to hide his true reason for concern.

He merely shot a piercing glare at Changbin. “Shut up,” Hyunjin groaned, his voice laced with a raw edge of frustration and resignation.

They sat in a charged silence, each sip of their drinks a heavy punctuation mark, before Changbin broke the tension with a pointed question.

"You said he just randomly took off, but are you certain he didn’t say anything at all? Anything that could potentially provide a clue as to where he was headed?" Changbin's voice was laced with a genuine desire to help, yet Hyunjin couldn't shake the suspicion that this interrogation was partly retribution for dancing with Changbin's wife.

“Like what?” Hyunjin responded, his mind racing as he considered how much to reveal-whether he should stick to a vague summary or lay out the raw truth.

“You know, did he mention feeling off, like he might be sick? Maybe he went to the hospital. Or maybe you said something mean and he ran off to inform Minho?” Changbin suggested, his tone earnest but pressing.

Hyunjin's gaze flickered, empty and storm-tossed, as if he stood on the edge of some terrible confession. His chest tightened with every heartbeat—should he let it loose and risk sounding insane, or keep it buried and rot? Changbin— solid, reliable, like a brother forged in sweat and shared battles— deserved the truth. Even if that truth made him look like a fool. Even if Changbin recoiled, muttering about elf-magic and brainwashing. Hyunjin almost wished the elf really was casting spells.

“I… might have… sort of…” Hyunjin's words came out in ragged fragments, his tongue tangling around the admission.

Changbin leaned in, eyes alight with expectation, the taverns chatter fading around them.

Hyunjin swallowed. "You know." His hands shook violently as he gestured, but Changbin's confused expression only deepened. Desperation clawed at him, compelling him to elaborate further, his voice edged with urgency and frustration. “He got angry with me and there’s this look about him, you know? Have you ever seen him angry? There’s something about his eyes… they get so big and… like, they are almost pleading instead of actually—“

“Get to the point already!" Changbin's impatience slashed the air.

Hyunjin snarled with raw frustration. "I kissed him, alright?! Just forget it! It doesn’t help our search, so let it go!" he snapped, voice cracking. The shame crashed over him like a tidal wave, suffocating and relentless, because speaking it out loud made it unbearably real, dragging it from the shadows of his mind where it had been safely buried from the world's prying eyes.

Changbin glared at him with the exact contempt he dreaded—like a total fool. "You can't just go and kiss him for the first time when he's angry with you, idiot!" he scolded, disbelief etched on his face as he processed the bombshell.

"It wasn't the first time..." Hyunjin muttered, his voice barely audible.

Changbin jerked back in his seat as if hit by a physical force, eyes wide with shock.

"Wait, what?! Then when?! How?! Where?! How long?!" he shouted, his voice booming enough to attract stares from curious onlookers who halted their steps to gawk. "And you didn't think to tell me until now?!" he bellowed, his voice rising even higher.

Hyunjin cringed, mortified, yanking Changbin's arm with urgency, pulling him close until they were inches apart. "Lower your fucking voice," he hissed through gritted teeth. "I didn't tell you because there hasn't been a single damn moment to do so since our first kiss was just this morning on the ride over here, you jackass," he whispered fiercely.

Changbin's eyes widened in utter disbelief at the confession laid bare before him. Hyunjin slapped his palm against his forehead, caught in a whirlwind of bewilderment and desperation, wishing fervently that he could rewind time, erase this mortifying moment from existence, or scrub it from his memory entirely. The embarrassment was suffocating, and Changbin's eager demands only deepened his torment.

"Details! Details!" Changbin pressed, his curiosity insatiable.

Hyunjin's hands itched with a desire to throttle him, but Changbin was like kin—his confidant for the most scandalous of secrets.

Hyunjin’s heart thundered like a war drum, each beat echoing the tempest within him as he reluctantly relayed every vivid, unrestrained detail, leaving nothing to the imagination. He downed ice-cold water in a futile attempt to douse the raging inferno of emotions threatening to betray him, fighting not to drown in the haunting recollections of the elf’s delicate weight on his lap, Felix’s irresistible expressions, the angelic sounds trapped within his throat, and the intoxicating motion of hips rolling into his grasp.

Chapter Text

Hyunjin and Changbin split up, sprinting up and down the winding street, desperately searching for the runaway elf. The clock was ticking down to the moment when Minho was supposed to present Felix to the citizens in the heart of Levanter's city square, but the elf was still missing. Hyunjin's heart pounded with the realization that he might soon have to tell Minho that he'd lost his husband—literally lost him.

Then, by some miraculous stroke of fate amidst his frantic hunt, Hyunjin's eyes caught a flash of familiar platinum blonde hair through the glass of a window. Without a second thought, he tore into the large house, relief crashing over him like a tidal wave when he finally laid eyes on the elf.

There stood Felix, bouncing gently on his feet with a baby no older than five months nestled protectively in his arms. The sight hit Hyunjin like a bolt of lightning, stirring something deep within him, leaving him breathless and dizzy. For once, it wasn't irritation or annoyance that swelled inside him; this was different—intense, heavier yet warmer, a gentle lightness that filled him. His head buzzed so fiercely he could barely concentrate on the scene unfolding before him, but all he felt was an overwhelming surge of pride. Yet, the rational part of his mind screamed to stay grounded; after all, his last encounter with Felix had ended poorly, and now the elf held a fragile newborn, with no sign of the mother. Could it be that Felix had kidnapped a child and lured Hyunjin here to drag him into some twisted plot to abduct and murder the city's children in an act of revenge?

Felix's gaze locked onto Hyunjin the moment he entered the room, turning his head with an unnerving slowness, his eyes piercing through to Hyunjin’s very essence. Hyunjin braced himself for hostility, yet found none—only a disconcerting calm that paradoxically soothed him. The strange comfort was overshadowed by Felix's visible discomfort, a tremor of fear that would typically thrill Hyunjin, yet now left him feeling unsettled and dissatisfied, a gnawing dissonance he couldn't shake.

The two older women in the room fixed their eyes on Hyunjin, and it suddenly dawned on him with startling clarity where he had intruded. One woman sat across the room in a creaky rocking chair, cradling a baby in her arms, while another infant lay nestled in a bassinet that she vigorously rocked with her foot. The other woman, standing beside Felix, locked eyes with him and bowed deeply, acknowledging each other's presence with a weighty formality.

In a feverish rush to locate the missing elf, he had barreled forward, oblivious to his surroundings. His single-minded determination blinded him to the towering structure he had unwittingly entered—the orphanage.

"Greetings, Commander," the elderly woman greeted with a gentle smile that seemed to radiate warmth. However, Hyunjin's heart twisted with urgency. Though he hadn't intended to slight her, he had to act quickly to erase the piercing look from Felix’s face, a look that stabbed at the very core of his being.

"I’m not angry at you," Hyunjin declared with intense conviction, his voice a firm apology.

Felix acknowledged this with a slight nod, his gaze evasive. He redirected his focus to the child, who reached out with a tiny hand and seized a fistful of Felix's blonde hair. The child tugged insistently, her giggles bubbling over with infectious excitement, while Felix surrendered to her playful demand, grinning with a warmth that softened the storm within him as he cradled the little bundle of joy.

“Felix.” Hyunjin's voice came out rougher than intended, thick with an emotion he couldn't name.

Felix steadfastly refused to meet his gaze, his eyes locked on the infant cradled in his arms. He cooed with an infectious joy at the baby, a radiant smile lighting up his face.
This display only stoked the inferno building within Hyunjin, yet, it was not a blaze of hatred—it was something entirely different, something consuming and powerful.

"Oh, young love…" the woman rocking nearby mused, her voice tinged with a wistful sigh.

In an instant, both Hyunjin and Felix whipped their heads toward her, their minds racing with the instinct to deny any romantic involvement. Yet, the truth of their mission to the city held their tongues, a reminder that such a denial would betray the very purpose of their journey.

With a heavy heart and clenched jaw, Hyunjin felt the weight of inevitability pressing down on him, realizing he had no other option but to compromise. The notion of snatching Felix away was utterly impossible, as the elf cradled a baby with a grip both gentle yet unyielding. Reluctantly, he began to trudge toward his husband, each step deliberate and calculated, as though he were navigating a treacherous path. His eyes remained unwaveringly fixed on the infant, ensuring his focus stayed solely on the baby to prevent Felix from becoming skittish.

As he drew nearer, an intense wave of unexpected affection hit him, the image becoming oddly compelling and irresistibly charming. Felix's large, innocent eyes sparkled with an adoring gaze fixed on the kid, and Hyunjin felt his face flush with heat. He battled fiercely against the overwhelming instinct to break into a broad grin, reminding himself with a strained effort that such thoughts were utterly inappropriate, even though they were technically married—it didn't count, it didn't mean anything, yet the feelings surged uncontrollably.

The way Felix held the baby—so natural, so gentle—made Hyunjin's chest tighten. The infant nestled against Felix's chest, tiny fingers still tangled in blonde strands, completely at peace. It was a sight that stirred something primal in Hyunjin, something he'd never felt before—a yearning so profound it left him breathless.

A part of him ached with an intense, burning curiosity about what it would be like to have a parent gaze at him with the same patient tenderness Felix bestowed upon a complete stranger. He had never tasted such gentleness; his own upbringing was a brutal battlefield, forged in unyielding fire and relentless bloodshed. The nearest semblance to a proper parent, the kind he’d seen only in the idyllic pages of novels, was Minho, who was far too young to fill that void.

When Felix shifted just a fraction and fixed Hyunjin with a stare sharp with alert suspicion, as though he were a sentinel defending the child, Hyunjin felt a surge of intense indignation. It was as if Felix accused him of harboring sinister intentions, a notion so offensive it seared his pride.

"Felix!" Hyunjin exclaimed, his voice unintentionally fracturing with raw desperation. Instantly, embarrassment blazed like wildfire across his cheeks, leaving a scorching trail of shame.

"Oh, my dear," the woman beside Felix proclaimed, her voice resonating with a commanding presence as she addressed the elf. "Our commander may have you fooled into thinking he’s carved from stone, but we know the reality—he's as soft as a downy feather when it comes to the young," she asserted, her words a powerful blend of firmness and tenderness as she patted Felix's shoulder with unyielding assurance.

Felix plastered on a smile at her comforting words, but the warmth was missing from his eyes—a subtlety only Hyunjin, with his razor-sharp perception, picked up on.

"Could I borrow my husband for just a moment in the hallway? There's an urgent matter regarding his presentation in the main square that demands immediate attention," Hyunjin inquired with such refined politeness that it almost screamed for Felix to be wary.

No matter how expertly Felix masked it, Hyunjin caught the barely perceptible tension rippling through his husband’s body and the fleeting shift in his expression, as well as the instinctive way Felix clutched the infant tighter.

"Go right ahead!" She insisted, her arm slicing through the air as she pointed emphatically toward the hall exit. "Just use your inside voices; the nursery door is open."

Hyunjin gave a subtle, appreciative nod, his eyes reflecting understanding and care. "Of course," he agreed softly, his voice barely above a whisper, as he turned to leave the room. He moved with deliberate, gentle steps, ensuring that his presence was unobtrusive. As he crossed the threshold, he took care not to make any sudden movements that might startle his husband. Hyunjin continued down the hallway, his footsteps muted on the polished wooden floor, maintaining just the right distance to offer his husband the space he needed, yet close enough to remain connected in their shared silence.

Once he was certain of their privacy, Hyunjin turned to Felix, crossing his arms tightly, a storm of guilt brewing behind his stern facade. "I'm not mad at you for running off. I understand—I shouldn't have kissed you in such a moment without asking. It was fucking stupid of me and won't happen again. But we have to get a move on because if I fuck this up, Minho is going to murder me—" He rattled off in a breathless rush until Felix cut him off.

"Shhhhh!" Felix hissed urgently, soothingly cradling the baby’s head against his chest, his hand gently shielding her ear. "Stop swearing."

Hyunjin’s eyes widened in disbelief, his voice dripping with incredulity. "It’s a baby," he stated, his tone flat and unyielding.

Felix’s gaze turned icy, his words slicing through the air with sharp authority. "Yes, and? There’s research proving that even the nuances of our tone and language can impact their development. It can shape their intelligence and future learning potential, so watch your mouth," he retorted with unwavering seriousness, genuinely affronted.

This information blindsided Hyunjin so completely that he found himself utterly speechless, his eyes wide with shock, yet tinged with a hint of amusement and a reluctant admiration. The unexpected silence from Hyunjin seemed to embolden Felix, who finally addressed Hyunjin's concerns with a soft, almost teasing smirk. "I didn’t flee because you kissed me. Did you really think that was the reason? After what happened this morning? How absurd," Felix murmured the last two words with a touch of derision, his voice low as if the memory of their earlier encounter in the carriage still lingered, painting his ears a delicate shade of pink.

Hyunjin, too, found it difficult to prevent his thoughts from wandering back to that brief, electrifying moment, but Felix’s words held an unspoken hit that the idea of kissing was now permissible, sending a swarm of butterflies fluttering through his stomach. The sensation was intense, almost overwhelming, but he hastily brushed it off, clearing his throat in an attempt to regain his composure and focus.

"Then why? Why would you run away from me when someone had already tried to harm you?" he pressed, his voice laden with genuine concern, his eyes searching Felix’s face for answers, the shadows of worry etched deeply into his features. “What if something happened and—” The words snagged in Hyunjin’s throat, as if the simple act of admitting to worry would betray something hideous and irreparable about himself.

But Felix didn’t smirk or wield his sharp tongue. He only cradled the baby tighter, looking torn, a mix of anxiety and solemnity flickering in his eyes as he hesitated. "It’s not something I wish to speak about until we are in the privacy of our chambers tonight. I beg of you, Hyunjin, please do not push the subject further here," Felix implored, his gaze soft and pleading, eyes that seemed to draw Hyunjin in, making his resolve crumble. “Please.”

Hyunjin looked away, jaw flexing. The newness of being asked so softly, so vulnerably, left him off-balance. He felt a burning need to know. He had every right to that knowledge. But he reminded himself that it could wait if it wasn’t urgent because Felix cradled a baby in his arms, and causing a scene here was out of the question. Of course, it had absolutely nothing to do with those beguiling eyes that shattered every ounce of determination he had mustered.

He deftly shifted the conversation, his gaze sweeping across the room before settling back on Felix with a curious, slightly arched brow. "And is there a particular reason you ended up in an orphanage, holding a random baby, instead of heading back to the square?" he inquired, his tone skeptical yet devoid of accusation.

Felix's lips curled into a gentle smile as he looked adoringly at the baby. The little one lifted her tiny head, reaching out to grasp his face with her small fingers, her eyes sparkling with pure happiness as they met Felix's gaze. "I tried to make my way back," he explained, "but I got lost and happened upon Madam Choi, the director, who was struggling with several bags of groceries. Naturally, I offered my assistance and... got a bit sidetracked," he confessed, nodding affectionately towards the child. He playfully pretended to nibble at her fingers, and she let out a delighted squeal. The tender scene left Hyunjin's heart squeezing with a mix of awe and admiration at its sheer beauty.

While the elf's assertion was only partially accurate, he deemed it unnecessary to reveal that he had initially wandered into a brothel, where he actually lingered for a while. He certainly had no intention of divulging that he might have engaged in a rather detailed conversation with the head mistress, a woman of striking poise and keen intellect. Nor did he feel the need to mention that he might have even purchased a few intriguing items during his visit, claiming it was purely out of curiosity. And then there was Jisung. What kind of best friend would he be if he returned without a gift?

"Yeah, I know Madam Choi," Hyunjin declared with a casual air, although beneath the surface, he tried hard to mask the impact the scene unfolding had on him. "Be careful of Madam Lim, though. She has no filter and will hurt your feelings if you're sensitive," he added with a playful grin. Felix noticed that Hyunjin seemed more relaxed than usual, a subtle fondness coloring his words as he spoke of them.

Hyunjin moved forward cautiously, one deliberate and gentle step, his eyes locked on Felix. Relief washed over him when Felix didn't object to his approach, though he noticed the slight tightening of Felix's hold on the child, a small gesture that caused Hyunjin to pause momentarily.

"Felix," he called out with a firm yet gentle tone, his voice carrying a weight of sincerity.

Felix blinked and focused intently on Hyunjin, trying to suppress the amused smile that threatened to surface at the peculiar way his name rolled off Hyunjin’s tongue with a faint Ancient Levanter accent.

"Do you truly believe I'd harm a baby?" Hyunjin asked, his voice earnest and soft as he posed the question.

His heart sank a little when Felix looked away, his gaze shifting to the ground, leaving Hyunjin in a moment of silent uncertainty.

"Felix," Hyunjin urged, his voice laced with urgency as he took another cautious step forward into Felix’s space.

The response was immediate and telling; Felix took a step back, and in that instant, Hyunjin could sense the unspoken worries and fears lingering beneath the surface, the things Felix wasn’t ready to voice.

“Yongbok,” Hyunjin urged softly, his voice barely above a whisper, as though the birth name was a delicate secret meant only for their ears. The air between them was thick with unspoken tension, and Hyunjin sought to soothe it with this intimate address. Felix sighed, a hesitant exhale that suggested reluctance yet resignation. His eyes, however, remained averted, refusing to meet Hyunjin's imploring gaze.

"Forgive me if I have offended you," Felix murmured, his words careful and measured, "but you must understand that I do not know where you draw your lines in the sand.” His explanation was vague, a shadow of clarity shrouded in insufficient context, leaving the true meaning partially obscured.

Hyunjin's brow furrowed deeply, his expression a mix of hurt and heat. “I draw them far as fuck away from children!” he retorted, his voice sharp yet not truly angry, more wounded by the insinuation than anything else. The very idea that Felix would question him on this front perplexed him, stirring an unexpected storm of emotion within.

Felix's eyes narrowed slightly at Hyunjin's choice of language. Defensive instincts flared up within him, a protective urge mingling with internal conflict. Yet, he was confident in his ability to manage Hyunjin if necessary. So he adjusted the infant in his arms, ensuring she faced Hyunjin. One hand cradled her gently beneath her small bottom, while his other arm encircled her torso, a cocoon of safety and support.

Hyunjin observed Felix with wary eyes, yet could not suppress the amusement bubbling up as the baby, a little stranger to him, squealed in delight. Her tiny legs kicked with uncontainable excitement, and her miniature hands reached out to him with boundless enthusiasm. A warm tide of affection washed over Hyunjin, enveloping him in a comforting embrace. He cautiously extended a hand, its gentle motion almost reverent, as if reaching out to capture a fragile dream. Her diminutive hand, soft and delicate like a petal, wrapped around his finger with surprising strength. In that tender moment, his face blossomed into a radiant grin, his eyes sparkling with joy. The baby's laughter was a melody of pure joy, and her energetic kicks seemed to suggest she believed herself capable of flight.

Felix watched the scene unfold silently, noting the genuine happiness that lit up Hyunjin's features as he interacted with the child.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you about stranger danger?" Hyunjin teased, his tone playfully scolding. Yet, he was utterly captivated, gently poking her belly and eliciting peals of wild laughter which he found impossibly contagious, mirroring it back with an unguarded cackle.

Even Felix couldn't suppress his smile, a chuckle escaping his lips as he responded with light-hearted banter. “That’s bold coming from someone who married one,” he quipped, adding a layer of humor to the moment.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, his amusement evident. “As if I had a choice,” he replied, his tone casual and devoid of any underlying hostility.

Suddenly, Hyunjin's gaze locked onto it—the unmistakable golden flakes swirling and shimmering within her irises—and the weight of Felix's fears crashed over him. His smile vanished, replaced by a stark understanding, yet he couldn’t muster any anger or irritation at the unspoken accusation.

“Oh…” he breathed as the realization hit him like a tidal wave.

Felix, startled by the abrupt shift in atmosphere, spun the child around, cradling her against his chest with a protective fierceness, waiting with bated breath for Hyunjin to speak.

Hyunjin's eyes rolled, seething with genuine offense. “So you think I’m going to harm her because she’s part elven?” he spat bitterly, the sting of assumption cutting deep, his voice dripping with disdain at such an offensive implication.

Felix was unyielding, his posture straightening, eyes burning with a challenging glare that could pierce through steel.

“You hate me, despite my innocence of the crimes you attribute to elves as a whole—so forgive me for exercising what I consider reasonable caution,” he retorted sharply, his voice a taut whisper to avoid alarming the child nestled in his arms.

Hyunjin exhaled in frustration, rubbing his temples as if to ease the mounting tension. Felix’s logic was sound, but acceptance was a bitter pill. "Can we just go? This is a waste of time," he groaned, exasperation lacing every word.

Felix's eyes flared with indignation at such audacity. "This is not a waste of time!" he snapped, his voice heated, clutching the infant with unwavering protectiveness. “I must find her home!” he declared, a fervor in his voice that left Hyunjin bewildered, gesturing vaguely at their surroundings.

“You’re in an orphanage, Felix,” Hyunjin remarked plainly. Felix’s eyes bore into him, unamused. "She doesn’t have a home," he continued bluntly, the harsh truth hanging heavily in the air.

Felix's expression darkened with indignation at the mere suggestion. “If she were born of a Feloran, of course she does!” he snapped, his voice quivering with suppressed fervor. “In Felora, we don't even have orphanages. Even if the parents die, immediate family steps in to raise the child. And if none can be found, the child is taken in by those who can't have children of their own.” His words were a fervent defense, each syllable a desperate attempt to maintain composure while making his point clear, but Hyunjin remained utterly unmoved.

“Okay? And what about mixed bastards?” Hyunjin jabbed, his voice slicing through the air.

The elf squinted, his face a mask of bewilderment. “They’re incredibly rare, but the same rules apply. Even Jisung was welcomed—“

“Jisung had the luck of being born to your mother’s best friend, no? You said so yourself,” Hyunjin interrupted, his words sharp and relentless as he cut Felix off, his brow furrowing with accusation. “So what about all those elf lads and ladies who grow tired of your kingdom’s self-righteous commandments, who wander off, and end up knocked up in some foreign land? Or better yet, those soldiers slinging their seed across kingdoms to avoid any parental responsibilities? Do you truly believe your kingdom would accept those bastard children with open arms and treat them as equals? Was Jisung truly treated as an equal, or did you ever consider that your people might have did things behind your back? Tell me, if you suddenly declared you wanted to marry him one day, how would your parents have reacted? Be fucking serious, Felix. You can’t be this fucking naive. There are thousands of mixed-elf bastards scattered across various kingdoms with no place in Felora, even if they longed for it,” he spat, his words dripping with disdain, astonished by the elf’s naivety.

Felix's face twisted with anguish, yet he clung desperately to the fragile remnants of blissful ignorance, refusing to accept that some of his own people could commit the heartless act of abandoning a child or even a lover to the cruel whims of the world. The very notion that casual sex, especially with non-Felorans, was rare among his people was a comforting lie he had clung to. Now, a hard lump formed in his throat as he berated himself for his naivety, bitterly remembering how Jisung, of mixed race, moved freely through the beds of Feloran men, dispelling any illusions Felix had about the sanctity of Feloran customs. It was a brutal truth that citizens in Felora engaged in casual sex without a care for racial distinctions when it came to physical gratification. The memory of Jisung’s mixed heritage and status, which had made him a target of scorn even by those who exploited him, cut Felix deeply. Compounding his torment was the fresh, searing knowledge that the knight his family revered had once viciously beaten Jisung for reasons unknown, leaving Felix too tormented to even seek out the truth.

Despite his inner turmoil, he tried to muster a counterargument, even if it was just to deceive himself and alleviate the sting of feeling so foolish for ever thinking differently. But, to avoid becoming overwhelmed, he chose to address only one of Hyunjin's pointed questions.

"One must earn their place within our ranks to be deemed worthy of standing shoulder to shoulder with the esteemed individuals of our military. Part of the solemn oath demands chastity, ensuring our focus remains undistracted by earthly desires. Our soldiers must uphold respect for themselves and for others—" He spoke with practiced reverence, only to be cut off abruptly.

"Respect?!" Hyunjin interrupted, his voice dripping with incredulity as he laughed derisively. Felix flinched, recoiling slightly as Hyunjin's laughter echoed harshly in his ears. "Oh, is that what your esteemed soldier was doing to me all those times? Respecting me? Because, let me tell you, it felt pretty fucking disrespectful!"

Hyunjin's voice was laced with mockery and anger, though it wasn't directed at Felix personally. Instead, his frustration seemed to be more with the situation and the elf's apparent naivety. His eyes, however, betrayed a deeper emotion as they began to shimmer slightly with unshed tears when the traumatic incident was brought up, causing Felix's heart to ache with a profound sense of sorrow.

Felix's inner turmoil and overwhelming guilt surged through his entire being, emotions overflowing like a torrent. His face contorted with grief as the haunting memories resurfaced—the guard who had attempted such a vile act against Hyunjin, and had done so an unknown amount of times when Hyunjin was younger, was someone Felix himself had brought to Levanter. That night had been spent comforting his distraught husband, leaving Felix little time to truly process this grim reality himself. The thought of confronting this horrifying truth was too terrifying; he chose distraction over acceptance, fearing the admission that he might bear personal responsibility for such reprehensible actions. As this very conversation unfolded, he realized, with a sinking heart, that there might have been warning signs all along. The man he had known since birth was a despicable creature, but perhaps Felix's inherent biases, blind beliefs, and ignorance had blinded him to the truth. It was possible many others had likely suffered greatly, bearing permanent mental scars as a result of his oversight. The weight of this realization pressed heavily upon him, like a storm cloud gathering on the horizon, threatening to consume him.

His gaze locked onto Hyunjin's with an intensity that carried the weight of a thousand apologies, his eyes glistening with unshed tears that threatened to cascade down his cheeks. Each droplet trembled on the brink of falling, a testament to the sincerity etched into every facet of his expression.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured, his voice a fragile whisper on the edge of breaking, as he battled against the tide of emotions rising within him, knowing deep down that no words could ever truly mend the grievous wrong that had been done.

Hyunjin, unable to meet the penetrating stare, turned his own tear-filled eyes away, his teeth sinking into his inner lip as he waged his own internal battle. He forced himself to swallow the painful lump that had formed in his throat, determined not to unravel in this moment, not here. The idea of Felix apologizing for the actions of another confounded him; such a level of accountability, especially when not directly responsible, was a rare and admirable trait, scarcely found among others.

Hyunjin cleared his throat. “I wasn’t… that’s not my point. You didn’t know,” he croaked reluctantly, not wanting to dismiss whatever pained Felix, but didn’t wish to dwell on the matter longer than necessary. He’d rather forget it happened entirely. He’d rather forget every time it happened and then some. “I wasn’t saying… I just meant that there’s thousands of elf mix bastards in the world and many raised not by Felorans. So, no, she doesn’t have a home. But don’t fret over her…” He paused, reluctant. “I actually fund this place… as well as many other orphanages in Levanter," he offered the reassurance rather hesitantly and plainly without expecting praise or gratitude, seemingly uncomfortable at the way Felix stared at him as if he'd sprouted two heads, and continued avoiding eye contact as he stood up straighter with crossed arms, shrugging dismissively. His voice faltered, the vulnerability of his words hitting him hard, yet the gravity of Felix's presence made him push past the discomfort, uncaring of the exposure.

Felix's heart clenched painfully, the recollection of Hyunjin's memories crashing over him like a relentless tide. Sure, some might say Hyunjin was adopted by the ideal family, living a life many would envy, and insist he should be grateful. But Felix knew the painful truth—how the Queen Mother stripped away any illusion of belonging, her private cruelty starkly contrasting the public facade she maintained, even in front of Minho. Felix couldn't help but wonder if Minho had ever glimpsed the truth before the Queen Mother succumbed to her own mental decay, or if he still naively believed in her faux tenderness. It was almost impossible to fathom that Minho could truly see her as entirely good, especially after Felix had vividly witnessed the memory of Minho being viciously struck across the face for daring to speak out of turn. Yet, maybe Hyunjin was onto something when he claimed that his brother had chosen to perceive the world through rose-colored lenses, willfully blind to the harsh realities that others couldn’t ignore.

The present moment demanded an oppressive silence. Hyunjin stood there, emotionally ravaged, teetering on the precipice of utter collapse, so Felix choked back his questions, merely offering a nod while his own inner storm raged barely contained.

Hyunjin exhaled a heavy sigh, eyes fixating on the ceiling as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying desperately to quell the throbbing tension headache that clawed at his temples. Finally, he met Felix's gaze again, swallowing hard as if trying to dislodge a boulder in his throat. He cleared his throat with a raspy cough, arms stretching out with hesitation, fingers splayed like a diver on the edge of a platform, bracing for impact but frozen, awaiting the signal to plunge.

Felix watched, eyes wide and unblinking, as Hyunjin's hands hovered stiffly, poised to hold the infant. The tension in the air was palpable, a silent, taut string of trust being tested between them, indicating Hyunjin's yearning to forge a truce. Despite the formidable aura Hyunjin exuded, his vulnerabilities were laid bare, more glaringly human than ever before. This silent gesture from the commander was a potent declaration that he did not see the infant as a monstrosity, and Felix clung to the significance of this moment, allowing it to anchor their precarious reality.

With deliberate care, Felix transferred the delicate, wriggling baby into Hyunjin's larger hands, each movement measured to ensure the infant's comfort and security, a task fraught with the potential for disaster. As soon as the baby was wrapped in Hyunjin's arms, Felix found himself breathless, as if the air had been stolen from his lungs, witnessing the awe-inspiring transformation of a once-imposing figure now gazing down at the child with an intensity of love that seemed to bind him in a trance.

"Hey there, sweet pea," he cooed with a warmth that nearly brought Felix to tears for reasons he couldn't quite grasp, blinking furiously to keep the moisture from spilling over.
The baby, tiny hands grasping at air, reached futilely for Hyunjin's cropped hair, prompting a deep, resonant chuckle from the man.

"Sorry, squirt. You're out of luck for now. But I'll grow it back out just for you, okay?" he promised tenderly, bouncing her in a gentle rhythm as he strode purposefully down the hallway toward the main room where Madam Choi and Madam Lim awaited.

Without preamble, he addressed them with a familiarity that spoke volumes. "Where did this one come from?" he questioned softly, careful not to startle the infant.

Madam Choi's expression turned somber as she relayed the harrowing tale. "A good samaritan discovered her in an alley on the east side, alongside her mother who had just brought her into the world only to perish on the cold stone. Thankfully, the little one was found swiftly enough to not suffer lasting effects and has blossomed under our care," she reported with professional composure, though her features were etched with sorrow. She gazed intently at Felix, her eyes tracing over his features, his eyes full of warmth and understanding, met hers with a gentle steadiness. "Her mother was a refugee, leaving no one to see to her burial, but the crown, in its usual generosity, provided the funds for us to manage it ourselves." She smiled, a bittersweet gesture, at Hyunjin, bowing her head in gratitude. "Thank you again, Commander. Your continued support is invaluable to these children. I understand you must be on your way, but there is one small request we humbly ask of you before you depart," she implored, her tone filled with urgency.

He inclined his head in acknowledgment, anticipation stirring as he met the older woman's gaze, the baby in his arms cooing with delight as he continuously bounced her. "Anything, Madam. What is it?" he asked, his voice both polite and intensely curious.

Lim smirked slyly, her eyes glinting mischievously as she tilted her chin upward with a dramatic flair. "Don’t coop that gorgeous husband of yours up in your bedchambers all the time. We thoroughly enjoyed his company, as did the babes, and would enjoy regular visits!" she declared, her voice lilting with playful insistence. Felix's cheeks turned a deep shade of pink at her boldness, while Hyunjin chuckled, his laughter a warm, rolling melody. “The older children are in school right now, but I know they’d love to meet him as well," she added, his eyes twinkling with delight.

Hyunjin cast a sidelong glance at Felix, his lips curling into a teasing smirk as he joined in the playful banter. “Look at him—can you blame me?” he jested, reaching out to pinch Felix's cheek gently. A triumphant smile spread across Hyunjin's face as Felix's freckle-dusted beauty flushed a brilliant red, leaving him flustered and momentarily speechless at the suggestions thrown his way. Both women giggled with a lighthearted, melodic harmony, nodding in approval of the playful exchange.

"So when should we expect a little miniature commander terrorizing the city?" Lim teased cheerfully, her voice layered with genuine curiosity as she grinned like a Cheshire cat, her expression one of gleeful anticipation.

Hyunjin's playful grin wavered for a moment, but Felix quickly took the lead, his eyes sparkling with humor as he responded with a mock accusatory smile. “As soon as my husband learns to watch his foul language around children… so likely never,” the elf quipped, his voice dripping with affectionate sarcasm.

With a deft motion, Felix took the child back into his arms from Hyunjin, who relinquished the little one reluctantly. The child grunted in protest, her small arms reaching back longingly for the commander, missing the warmth and security of his embrace.

Felix gently handed the child over to Madam Lim and bid farewell to both of the elder women with a soft, respectful nod. Meanwhile, Hyunjin was struggling to brush off the sting of rejection, unsure of why it gnawed at him so persistently. The prospect of having a half-elf child of his own lineage was the last thing he desired. More crucially, he dreaded bringing a child into the world, only to expose them to potential harm during one of his unpredictable episodes. He felt undeserving of his own kin, unworthy of a loving partner who might gaze at him affectionately while they rocked their testament of eternal devotion to sleep. He certainly did not deserve the pure innocence of a child giggling at his playful antics, allowing him a fleeting illusion that the world wasn’t fractured.

“Hyunjin,” Felix spoke softly, his voice laced with concern as he stood directly in front of him, ready to depart with a sizable paper bag cradled in his arms.

Hyunjin realized he must have drifted into his thoughts, and he refocused his gaze on Felix, nodding slowly as he cleared his throat. They both bowed once more, a gesture of respect, as they made their way through the door and back into the bustling market street.

As they began their walk, the lively sounds of the market swirled around them. Hyunjin's eyes flitted curiously to the gift bag Felix held.

His expression remained neutral, though a hint of curiosity tinged his voice as he inquired subtly, “Don’t tell me you ran off to go shopping,” he jested, though a small part of him genuinely felt a twinge of disappointment when Felix ignored his remark, keeping his gaze resolutely forward.

Hyunjin cleared his throat awkwardly, determined to continue the conversation regardless. "I can hold that for you—“

Felix tightened his grip on the bag protectively, shooting a sharp glare in Hyunjin's direction. “I’m perfectly capable of carrying my own things,” he retorted defensively, quickening his pace through the crowded street.

Hyunjin blinked several times, perplexed by Felix's behavior, and hurried his steps to keep up, weaving through the throng of market-goers as the midday sun cast a warm glow over their path.

"I didn’t say you were not, I was just offering," he supplied defensively, his voice tinged with a defensive edge. Felix felt a pang of guilt for his sharpness, but his mind was a turbulent sea of emotions after such startling revelations of the day. As they strolled through the bustling street, every passerby seemed to tip their heads in respectful bows to Hyunjin. In stark contrast, Felix noticed some individuals casting furtive, disapproving glances his way, their hushed whispers slicing through the air like daggers.

Feeling the weight of self-consciousness and the need to shield himself, he couldn't help but tense up. However, there were others who, with genuine warmth, bowed to him as well. Their faces lit up with a mix of weariness and pleasant surprise when Felix returned their gestures with a warm smile and words of gratitude for their kindness.

"You were made for this, you know?" Hyunjin remarked thoughtfully, his voice breaking through Felix's musings.

He had been observing how Felix effortlessly sparked small talk with anyone willing, eager to put him at ease after their lack of meaningful interactions beyond their usual bickering. As Hyunjin pondered whether Felix longed for a closer connection between them, he held back, fearing that seeking such closeness might make him appear weak. But perhaps, he considered, that was just wishful thinking on his part.

Felix glanced curiously at Hyunjin, his interest piqued by the abrasive man's sudden shift in demeanor. The elf's eyes, a vibrant tapestry of intrigue, gleamed as he asked, "What do you mean?" His voice was steady, patient, and inviting.

Hyunjin, a brunette with a subtle, almost enigmatic smile playing at the corners of his lips, elaborated, “Being the center of attention… not in a negative sense, but in the way you engage with complete strangers as if you've known them your entire life. How you speak to them without even stuttering. It’s apparent you were raised as a prince, so it puzzles me why you gave up your place as heir," Hyunjin remarked, his tone genuine and forthright, catching Felix off guard.

“You had the potential to rule an entire kingdom, but you abdicated. And now, here you are… married to what you might consider your worst nightmare, surrounded by those who despise your kind. Yet, instead of cowering behind me or stomping your feet in disdain, you offer them smiles and friendly greetings." He explained with an analytical eye, a peculiar sensation stirring in his stomach as he recalled every interaction with Felix yet, noting how swiftly Felix had acclimated to the cultural whirlwind of this vastly different kingdom.

“If they believe me to be malevolent, would responding with scowls, angry huffs, glaring, and displaying displeasure at my surroundings be wise if I aim to convince them otherwise?” Felix countered with assured confidence, his tone devoid of arrogance or offense. Instead, a pleasant quality was woven into the smooth, deep timbre of the elf's voice, a quality that drew Hyunjin in, making him yearn to hear more, eager to uncover the source of his intense curiosity.

Hyunjin turned his gaze forward once more, sighing audibly. He recognized the logic in Felix's words, yet found himself grappling with the acceptance of it, a truth as perplexing as it was undeniable.

"Besides… you’re not exactly my worst nightmare," Felix muttered, his voice dropping to a near whisper as he fixed his gaze forward, deliberately avoiding the commander's eyes and ignoring the intense flush heating his cheeks. "You're about as pleasant as thrusting a hand into a fire ant mound at times, but trust me, I've had far worse nightmares," he stated with a nonchalance that left Hyunjin blinking in disbelief, his brows arching to comical heights, astounded by Felix's unflinching honesty.

Hyunjin's eyes narrowed, skepticism etched into his features. "I doubt you've had a nightmare worse than nearly being choked to death," he muttered, guilt lacing his words.

Felix let out a dry laugh and rolled his eyes dismissively, as if the commander's words were utterly preposterous. "Oh really? Imagine this—coronation day. Thousands gathered, all eyes on me. I accept my crown, applause thundering around me, but then a chill sweeps over, and suddenly people are laughing and pointing. In front of everyone, right at the pinnacle of my rise to kingship, I'm standing stark naked, exposed to thousands. That’s a recurring one and I'd choose death over experiencing that in reality any day!" The elf elaborated with vivid detail, emphasizing his final point as if to underscore the gravity of the nightmare, his laughter infectious in its absurdity, prompting an unwilling chuckle from Hyunjin.

Despite Hyunjin's best efforts to suppress it, Felix's contagious laughter broke down his defenses, and he found himself joining in. "Is that why you abdicated?" Hyunjin teased, allowing humor to seep into his tone as he noticed Felix glance sideways at him, a playful smirk hinting at dimples.

"I’ll never tell," Felix whispered conspiratorially, feigning a lack of interest with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Hyunjin nudged Felix playfully. "That's not even that bad!"

"Being completely naked in front of thousands isn’t 'that bad'?!" Felix shrieked with exaggerated scandal, pretending to be mortally offended.

Hyunjin laughed heartily, nodding toward Felix with a newfound confidence. "Not when you look like that," he replied smoothly, without a trace of hesitation or shame, leaving Felix utterly stunned, caught off guard by the ambiguity of whether it was a joke or a genuine compliment.

Unbeknownst to Felix, the words had slipped from Hyunjin's lips in complete candor before he could stop them. He felt the urge to vanish into the concrete beneath them out of sheer embarrassment but decided to play it off confidently, as though he meant every word.

"So, what, I should just demand their coin next time the nightmare occurs?" Felix quipped with a nervous edge. He prayed his anxious laughter didn't betray his bashful facade too much as Hyunjin frowned with exaggerated drama.

"Well, you're married now, so you'll have to tell the crowd to eat their hearts out," the taller man replied with a daring smirk etched into his features, throwing a playful wink at his flushed husband.

Felix felt like he might combust, the thought of Hyunjin marking his territory heating his entire being. He couldn't let this man rattle him without striking back, even if it backfired. With a devilish grin, he defiantly lifted his chin.

"And what if I want to be watched next time? I could dance, you know? Put on a full show for them," he countered sharply, causing Hyunjin to freeze, swallowing hard, which only fueled Felix's pride. The brunette finally tore his gaze back to the sidewalk, shaking his head in disbelief, exhaling sharply as if gathering himself, and chuckled breathlessly.

Chapter Text

Felix and Hyunjin embodied their roles with skill; Hyunjin maintained a steely yet unwaveringly supportive demeanor, while Felix radiated effervescent enthusiasm, delighted by the monumental decision to uproot his life to Levanter.

As the king delivered his impassioned speech on change, acceptance, and unity, the atmosphere crackled with intensity. The experience was utterly surreal, almost like a fever dream, as the roar of hundreds erupted around him. They applauded with a fervor that shook the ground, chanting Minho’s name at the top of their lungs, their cheers slicing through the air with a wild, reckless abandon as if the world had stopped and nothing else mattered.

Felix recognized he could have easily taken a throne like Minho, yet he had abandoned that path, and this moment only reinforced his decision with iron certainty. Minho exuded an air of pride and satisfaction, but Felix sensed something deeper beneath the surface. Minho was merely a young man burdened with the crushing weight of an entire kingdom, his shoulders stooped under the relentless pressure of an impossible responsibility.

Amidst the thunderous applause and fervent words of praise, Felix leaned in close, his curiosity piqued, and inquired urgently to Hyunjin, "How old is Minho?"

Hyunjin's eyes flickered with surprise, caught off guard by the abrupt question, but he quickly refocused on the scene unfolding before them. "Twenty-seven. Why?"

Felix's voice quieted, laced with intrigue. "How long has he ruled?"

Hyunjin shook his head slightly, trying to recall exactly, his expression a mix of intrigue and caution. "I guess around ten years. Why?"

Felix's stomach churned with anxiety as he questioned whether he had heard correctly about the man being a teenager when he assumed leadership. He understood logically that the boy had likely risen to power earlier than usual because of certain circumstances, perhaps his mother’s illness. Yet, it seemed odd to Felix, considering Levanter typically selected its leaders through democratic processes. How unusual that a nation famed for its cold-heartedness and dauntlessness would choose a child to guide them. Although Minho wasn't performing poorly, Felix remained puzzled by the situation.

He opted for silence, ignoring Hyunjin's inquisitive brow raised in response to his extended quietness. Instead, he eased back into his seat, allowing the cool wood to support him, and focused his attention on the scene unfolding before him.

King Minho stood with regal authority, his voice resonating through the crowded square like a commanding symphony. The air buzzed with anticipation, and the murmurs of the assembled crowd blended into a low hum as they hung on every word uttered by their sovereign.

Minutes later, Minho’s words wrapped up nicely with the vague final announcement that he may soon follow his own heart and finally choose who shares his throne, ears turning red and grinning coyly as the statement was met with yet another thunderous applause.

Felix’s stomach plummeted, twisting with uncertainty as he pondered whether the king was speaking of Jisung or someone else entirely. If the king’s words did not refer to Jisung, Felix knew a storm of fury would erupt within him for the king's cruel deception, for toying with his best friend’s heart only to bestow his affections upon another. Yet, even if the king’s intentions were indeed towards Jisung, Felix felt an overwhelming wave of dread and anxiety crash over him. He should have been euphoric, celebrating his friend's fortune. But now, with the confirmation that the queen was not the woman Minho had painted in his stories to Jisung, a cold seed of fear began to sprout within Felix, taking root and spreading through him for the fate of his closest friend.

Despite the circumstances, Felix found himself with no other option but to stand beside Hyunjin as the final applause filled the air, resonating like a powerful wave. The two of them bowed deeply in gratitude, their faces reflecting the appreciation that surged through the crowd. As they straightened up, Felix clasped hands with the commander, feeling the firm grip as a sign of solidarity. Together, they bowed once more in perfect harmony, their movements synchronized as if choreographed, acknowledging the audience's cheers with respect.

Hyunjin's gaze flickered curiously towards Felix, whose smile had suddenly become a fragile mask of forced cheer. At the same time, he couldn't help but notice the subtle tremor in Felix's hand within his grasp. Gently, he tightened his hold, offering silent reassurance, and unconsciously began to trace tender circles with his thumb across Felix's skin, hoping it would provide some measure of comfort. He was acutely aware of the profound love Felix harbored for his friend and the exact nature of the troubles weighing on him.

Felix tilted his head, his eyes meeting Hyunjin's with a quizzical expression at the unexpected ministrations.

"Breathe," Hyunjin mouthed discreetly, their eyes locked in a wordless exchange.

Slowly, Felix blinked, a soft pink hue dusting across his freckle-speckled cheeks.

Together, they returned their focus to the people of Levanter, fully aware that all eyes were fixed upon them.

Felix inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with a steady breath before releasing it slowly, nodding with a sense of appreciation. The tension that had been coiled tightly within him began to unravel, as if the warmth radiating from Hyunjin acted like a soothing balm, easing his frayed nerves. This comforting presence granted him the strength to uphold the facade a little longer, like a mask that he could wear with newfound confidence.

Why Felix found any shred of solace in the grasp of a dangerous, volatile man who had once nearly killed him in a frenzied episode of monstrous rage was utterly unfathomable. Yet, at this point, questioning it was futile; he clung to this unexpected ally, even if it was just a facade, a temporary alliance of convenience. Perhaps Felix was descending into madness himself or grappling with profound issues, but despite that, there was an undeniable truth: there were fleeting moments when he could actually breathe around his husband. Moments when he could let down his guard, free from the fear of harm or the dread of death. His instincts screamed to him that the demon residing in his husband was a wholly different entity from the one tenderly holding his hand now—the one who cradled that part-elven baby with the utmost tenderness and joy, the one who stood bare with him in the shower, the one who wept in his arms with raw despair, the one who growled softly in his sleep like a small, restless puppy, the one who demanded to be hand-fed as he lounged in bed, the one who surrendered under his touch in the bathtub, the one who gazed at him with something akin to worship as Felix sat upon his lap in the carriage.

Felix gulped hard, forcing himself to look away, battling the turmoil within. He tried to rationalize it, telling himself it was meaningless. Even the worst of people could have moments of decency, and carnal urges were universal. Here, in the cramped confines of their reluctant union, biology and raw attraction collided violently. Two souls who barely tolerated each other, yet now driven by desperation to find solace in one another's embrace. It was a raw, instinctual dance of survival, a fragile tether keeping Felix tethered to sanity in the midst of chaos.

As the applause thundered to a halt, the king's voice cut through the silence, thanking everyone with a regal finality that echoed through the gathering. With a swift farewell, he turned on his heel and strode away, his presence a force of nature, pulling Felix and Hyunjin along in his wake. They were swept towards the entourage, where mighty steeds pawed the ground with anticipation.

Felix threw himself into the carriage cabin first, his movements quick and precise. He had earlier stashed his bag beneath the seat, a hidden cache ready for their swift departure. Hyunjin followed, the door slamming shut behind him with a resounding thud, sealing them in a cocoon of solitude. The tension in their bodies unraveled as they sank into their seats, facing each other like adversaries in a secretive duel.

The carriage jolted to life, wheels grinding against the earth with a determined urgency.

Hyunjin’s foot lashed out, striking the bag under his Felix’s bench with a light, deliberate tap, a silent signal in the charged air between them.

"What the fuck did you buy that needs to be hidden like some kind of black-market treasure?" Hyunjin taunted with a sharp edge to his voice, his eyebrow arching with a mix of amusement and disbelief. He scrutinized Felix's every twitch and glance, searching for any telltale sign of guilt or embarrassment.

Felix's eyes burned with a fierce intensity as he glared at him. "It's none of your business what I spend my money on," he retorted with icy precision, his features a mask of cold defiance.

Hyunjin tilted his head with a daring edge, his gaze cutting through the air like a blade. "If you’ve gone and bought poison to murder me with, well, that’s very much my business," he taunted with a wicked grin, leaning forward, elbows on his thighs with an air of absolute confidence. His eyes narrowed to slits, brimming with a dangerous intensity.

Felix's eyes rolled with a sharp dismissiveness, a flicker of irritation sparking in their depths.

"Do Levanter merchants casually peddle poisons lethal enough to take down grown men to just anyone? Is that legal here?" he snapped, his tone cutting through the air with a razor's edge, only fueling Hyunjin's amusement.

Hyunjin chuckled, a light, resonant sound that seemed to fan the flames of Felix's rising ire, provoking him further.

"You didn't deny you plan to murder me," Hyunjin teased, his voice a playful taunt as he flashed his brilliant teeth in a wolfish smirk, his eyes locked onto Felix with an intensity that dared him to fight back with words.

Felix couldn't fathom why his husband insisted on poking and prodding, seeking to ignite his temper, but he realized there was little use in resistance. After the relentless mental strain of the day, his mind was a weary battlefield, too tired to engage in a war of words.

Instead, he chose to shift the dynamic.

"It's crossed my mind a few times, but as you surely know by now, I don't need poison to kill," Felix replied, his voice smooth and unbothered, meeting Hyunjin's unyielding gaze with a defiant glint in his eyes.

To Felix's delight, the commander's expression faltered, a mix of surprise and satisfaction playing across his features. Hyunjin leaned back into his seat, exhaling a content sigh, a proud smile spreading across his face as if he had found what he was searching for.

"That, you don’t," he asserted with raw honesty before abruptly shifting his demeanor, his brows drawing together sharply, his curiosity cutting through his facade, momentarily revealing a glimpse of vulnerability.

Felix felt a flicker of hope that he might once more pierce the layers of Hyunjin's meticulously constructed armor.

“Are you going to tell me what drove you to bolt earlier?” Hyunjin pressed, each word clear and insistent. “You don’t have to lie. If you have no interest whatsoever, I get it—“

“I am many things, Hyunjin, but a liar is not one of them,” Felix interrupted with a voice like a steel blade, unwavering and resolute, his eyes locking onto the brunette's with an intensity that brooked no argument. Hyunjin's almost guilty look melted under Felix's sincere declaration. “I told you we would talk about it tonight in our chambers," he concluded, his tone flat, eyes dropping as if the patterns on the floorboards held the universe's secrets.

Hyunjin sat there, a statue of contemplation, his silence stretching with weight. Eventually, he gave a series of slow nods, each one deliberate, and said, "Very well."

Felix knew that what he glimpsed within Hyunjin's mind was a memory off-limits, a forbidden experience he had no right to witness, but he held onto the secret tightly for now, if only for Hyunjin’s peace of mind.

While Hyunjin seemed momentarily satisfied to continue the journey in silence, it wasn't long before he broke it again, testing Felix’s patience.

“So, what’s in the bag?” Hyunjin asked with an insatiable curiosity, inching forward on his seat, eyes glinting with a childish eagerness akin to a kid desperate to unwrap gifts on their birthday.

Felix threw his gaze upward in exasperation. “None of your concern," he snapped, his voice sharp like a whip. He crossed his arms with a defiant, defensive stiffness, remaining eerily calm, letting the comment hang in the air. Hyunjin’s face fell, his lips twisting into a dramatic pout, displeasure radiating off him in palpable waves.

"But I want to know!" Hyunjin demanded, his voice almost a whine as he fixed Felix with an intense stare, eyes wide and pleading like a desperate puppy. Most would crumble under such a gaze, but Felix was no ordinary adversary; he stood resolute against these manipulative tactics.

Felix's eyes narrowed with a piercing glare. "How old are you again?" he retorted with cutting indifference.

His words struck like arrows, causing Hyunjin to throw his head back in exaggerated despair, groaning as if struck by a monumental defeat, while Felix reveled in his triumph.

But then, in a flash faster than thought, the bag beneath Felix vanished, snatched by his infuriatingly tenacious husband with the deadly precision of a viper. Felix's jaw dropped, his mind reeling as he stared in disbelief at the empty space where the paper bag had rested moments before. With a surge of adrenaline, he lunged across the narrow divide, determined to reclaim the bag now being ransacked by his cunning, fiendish partner.

"Give that back!" Felix exclaimed, his voice a mix of urgency and frustration as he lunged forward. His movements were clumsy but determined, his wide eyes focused intently on the object of his desire. He clambered awkwardly across the bench, stretching out his arm in a desperate attempt to reclaim what was rightfully his, while Hyunjin, with a mischievous grin, held it teasingly just beyond his grasp. The commander, tall and lean, sprawled flat across the cushioned bench, effectively blocking Felix's path. The soft fabric of the cushions compressed under their weight, and Hyunjin clearly relished the playful chaos he was causing, perhaps a little too much.

Felix groaned, a sound mingling annoyance with a hint of playful resignation, and shifted his tactics. He began an arduous crawl over his husband's body, determined to retrieve his stolen purchase. But just as Felix was making progress, Hyunjin executed a swift, fluid motion. In an instant, their positions were reversed. Felix found himself pinned beneath Hyunjin, wedged securely in the corner where the cushioned backrest met the plush seat. Hyunjin's arms formed a gentle cage around him, and Felix could feel the warmth of his husband's body close against his own.

Hyunjin's eyes sparkled with amusement as he began to sift through the bag he held, mere inches above Felix's head. The space was filled with the soft rustle of fabric and the low hum of their mingled breaths, creating a bubble of intimacy amid their tussle.

Felix glared fiercely up at Hyunjin, practically growling with frustration as he strained upwards, his fingertips just shy of reaching past the barrier created by Hyunjin’s unyielding arms. He was trapped, unable to squirm or maneuver, as the weight of Hyunjin's body pressed down heavily upon him, rendering him immobile. Hyunjin's lips curled into a smug smirk, his eyes glinting with amusement as he raised an eyebrow in playful inquiry, a mocking "tsk" escaping his lips.

"My dear, you really shouldn't hide things from your husband," he drawled in a soft, teasing voice, each word dripping with feigned reproach. With deliberate slowness, he began to rummage through the sack, lifting out one item after another, and tossing them carelessly onto the opposite bench. The items scattered haphazardly, a chaotic jumble that mirrored Felix's rising irritation.

Felix seethed internally, his anger boiling over at his inability to retaliate physically. He longed to bite into Hyunjin’s chest or shoulder, but the formidable leather uniform thwarted any such attempt. Moreover, he reminded himself of the disastrous consequences of the last time he had given in to such an impulse, a memory sharp enough to curb his instincts.

After tossing aside several bags of snacks in a variety of flavors—delicacies of Levanter that the elf had likely hoped to sample—Felix felt his face growing warm with embarrassment. It was then that Hyunjin finally uncovered the hidden items near the bottom.

“Oh?” Hyunjin exclaimed with eager curiosity, holding the object aloft in one hand and inspecting it closely. His elbows dug into the cushion on either side of Felix's head, his mischievous grin never fading. “Is there something you’re not telling me?” he teased, tapping Felix’s forehead playfully with the box. He shifted his hips slightly as if adjusting his position along the elf's body, but a part of Felix's mind sensed a genuine undercurrent in the question, a wondering if perhaps Hyunjin thought Felix intended the items for another purpose. The way Hyunjin moved made Felix feel as if there was a trace of possessiveness woven into his actions, a subconscious claim on what was his.

“That’s for Jisung,” Felix admitted breathlessly, struggling against the barrier Hyunjin maintained, preventing him from escaping from underneath.

Hyunjin raised an intrigued brow, his fingers twirling the small, rectangular box with a casual dexterity. The light caught on its shiny surface, casting fleeting reflections that danced across his hand. Felix frowned, his expression a mix of irritation and resolve. “Don’t act stupid,” he said, his voice carrying a blunt seriousness. “If your brother insists on spilling his seed in my advisor every chance he gets, I am insisting they use contraceptives.” The words were delivered with a weight that left no room for misinterpretation.

Hyunjin turned the box over in his hand, examining it with a furrowed brow. His eyes flicked back to Felix, a teasing glint in them. “They’re a bit big for Minho, wouldn’t you say?” he quipped, a playful lilt to his voice.

Felix's face twisted into an incredulous grimace. “How would I know?!” he retorted, exasperation creeping into his tone. “I haven’t seen his parts and I don’t plan to, but by the way Ji talks, I would assume—“

Hyunjin suddenly interjected, his voice laced with a theatrical gasp designed to create a spectacle and fluster the elf as much as possible. “Is that how you spend your free time? Talking about my brother’s cock?” he interrupted, eyebrows arched mischievously.

Felix squirmed, his discomfort evident as he growled under his breath, frustration simmering beneath the surface. His cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red, burning with embarrassment. “Don’t say it like that! And no! Not specifically!” he protested, his voice a mix of embarrassment and indignation.

"Oh, so just vaguely?" Hyunjin teased, his voice lilting with barely contained laughter.

Felix grunted, the sound scratching from the back of his throat as he twisted his flushed face into the worn leather backrest. Hyunjin's shadow fell over him like a blanket as he carelessly tossed the box of condoms away. The rustling of him digging deeper into Felix's bag seemed deafening in the quiet room. Felix's lungs burned as he held his breath, his stomach clenching with the certainty that whatever mortification he'd felt before would pale in comparison to what was coming.

Hyunjin extracted the final items with the delicate precision of someone handling evidence. His large hand, veins prominent along the back, suspended the objects mere inches from Felix's face. The silence between them stretched taut as a bowstring—Hyunjin patiently waiting with one eyebrow arched expectantly, while Felix squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to dissolve into the furniture as if he were nothing more than a ghost haunting the space his body occupied.

The first item was a sleek, elegantly designed bottle of high-end lubricant, its label boasting promises of a silky, long-lasting glide. The second item, however, was far more incriminating and damning—a modestly sized silicone dildo, its contours and details clearly visible beneath a thin, form-fitting layer of transparent plastic. This flimsy barrier kept it sealed yet left little to the imagination, revealing every ridge and curve of the shaft with stark clarity.

For a moment, an oppressive silence filled the carriage cabin, pressing heavily against Felix's chest, making each breath a laborious task. It was Hyunjin who finally shattered the quiet with something unexpected, a statement that caught the elf entirely off guard.

“Tell your advisor that if he plans to use a silicone toy, he should opt for a water-based lubricant instead," Hyunjin stated with professional detachment, though his tone carried no hint of malice or mockery. "Silicone lubes and silicone toys don’t mix well over time, and it will basically dissolve eventually." The brunette's earnestness in delivering this surprising piece of advice left Felix momentarily stunned.

Felix glanced uncertainly at Hyunjin, his curiosity piqued by the commander's sudden shift to such matter-of-fact seriousness. He blinked owlishly, his words caught like a tangled knot within the confines of his throat, unable to escape.

Hyunjin averted his eyes from the elf's penetrating gaze, his shoulders hunched as he carefully extracted himself from atop Felix. He settled into the worn leather seat with a creak, the material cool against his palms. His gaze dropped to his scuffed boots, throat working as he cleared it with a sound like distant thunder. Felix caught the flicker of remorse in the commander's amber eyes, the downward curve of his usually confident mouth. This wasn't mere jealousy over discovered toys—no matter how deep Hyunjin's insecurities ran. Something heavier weighed on him, something that cast shadows across his chiseled features.

"Hyunjin—" Felix began, his voice soft as morning mist.

Hyunjin shook his head, disappointment etched into every line of his body. "No, look, I shouldn't have done that—like, held you down and went through your stuff. I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable—"

"What?" Felix whispered, leaning forward until he could smell the faint pine scent that always clung to Hyunjin's skin. His husband's fingers twisted together in his lap, knuckles white with tension.

Hyunjin's jaw clenched, a muscle jumping beneath his skin as he shook his head again. Self-loathing dripped from every word as he spoke. "I didn't mean to scare you like that. It was insensitive and fucking stupid. Everything I do is fucking stupid. I just need you to know that I'm seriously not that kind of person and—"

"Hyunjin!" Felix's voice cracked through the air like lightning, startling even himself. The commander's body went rigid beside him, every muscle taut as a bowstring before gradually unwinding, thread by thread. "Scare me? What are you talking about?"

Hyunjin scoffed and dramatically rolled his eyes, a gesture full of exasperation. “I do stupid shit, but I’m not stupid, Felix. I could feel you shaking. Makeup can only hide so much of the bruises on your neck—you know, the ones I caused? You probably think I enjoy inflicting pain on everyone like some deranged lunatic who deserves nothing but death, and in some ways, you’re probably right. But as I told you on our wedding night, I would never cross—"

“Will you stop that?!” Felix barked, his voice sharp with irritation.

“All this self-deprecation!” Felix snapped, his eyes blazing with fierce determination. “I get tremors when I haven’t eaten in a while; it has nothing to do with you. I may have bruises around my neck from whatever that demon is that resides within you, but I am alive, aren’t I? And should it rear its ugly head again, I will once again remind it whose presence it is dwelling amongst," Felix declared with an icy tone, his voice unwavering and leaving no room for doubt. His words hung in the air with the weight of an iron-clad promise. “I told you already, I do not fear you. Especially not in such a way. If I were afraid, would I sleep in your bed? Or shower with you?" He paused, his gaze steady and unflinching, hoping his assertion sounded convincing enough to quell any lingering doubts.

Truthfully, he found himself uncertain about whether it worked, but he realized that Hyunjin's worry was probably a reflection of his own deeply buried fears and past traumas. The weight of these realizations settled heavily on him, so he considered that perhaps he should let it slide this time.

“Besides… I am perfectly capable of kicking your ass, so why would I fear you?” He finished with boldness, leaning back confidently against the bench with a smug expression that seemed a bit too genuine, as though he were savoring a personal victory.

A heavy silence stretched between them like an invisible wall, punctuated only by the rhythmic clatter of iron-rimmed carriage wheels against the packed dirt road, sending tiny vibrations through the floorboards beneath their feet.

"Sorry..." Hyunjin mumbled, his voice barely audible above the ambient noise. His normally proud shoulders slumped forward, dark hair falling across his downcast eyes, bottom lip caught between his teeth in that way that always made him look like a scolded child.

Felix exhaled slowly through his nose and fixed his gaze on the empty bench across from them, where his parcels and bag lay scattered across the worn leather upholstery. He crossed his arms over his chest, determined to maintain the frosty silence for the remainder of their journey. But as the minutes crawled by, he couldn't help noticing Hyunjin's restless movements—fingers drumming against his thigh, weight shifting from one side to the other, the occasional clearing of his throat. Every few seconds, Hyunjin would cast furtive glances in Felix's direction, his eyes large and uncertain, like a man standing at the edge of a precipice, gathering courage to jump.

Though pitiful, it was slightly amusing how a man who had once soared through the sky astride a crimson-scaled dragon—its leathery wings casting vast shadows over the crowd below—and then leapt from its back in a heart-stopping display, arms spread like a falcon's wings as he plummeted toward the jagged rocks, trusting the beast to swoop beneath him with a thunderous roar just before impact, was now reduced to fidgeting with his sleeve cuff, unable to meet his gaze or form a coherent sentence. The fearless dragonrider had vanished, replaced by a man with downcast eyes and flushed cheeks—a stark contrast to his usual swagger and the cold, calculated stare that made seasoned warriors step aside in corridors.

To save his husband some unnecessary anxiety, Felix decided it best to pull him out of his misery swiftly.

"Yes?" he prompted with a note of impatience lacing his voice, his eyes narrowing slightly in expectation.

Hyunjin pursed his lips, a fleeting shadow crossing his features, and shook his head. "It's nothing," he replied, though his tone belied the claim.

Felix cast a sidelong glance at him, his expression a perfect picture of unimpressed skepticism. With an air of practiced nonchalance, he leaned back against the plush seat cushions. "You know," he began, his voice carrying a dry, almost sardonic edge, "communication is important for a healthy marriage." The comment elicited a glower from Hyunjin, whose unamused eyes met Felix's with a raised eyebrow, the gesture dripping with derision.

"I’m pretty certain actually liking one another is equally crucial," Hyunjin shot back, his words steeped in sarcasm. He stretched out his legs languidly, resting his feet atop the bench across from them, exuding an aura of casual defiance.

Felix's eyes darted to him again, this time with an accusatory gleam. "You liked me just fine this morning when your cock was in my mouth," he countered, his words sharp and unyielding. The retort caused Hyunjin to stiffen ever so slightly beside him, a subtle shift that did not escape Felix's notice. A smug grin spread across Felix's face, satisfaction evident in having caught Hyunjin by surprise.

Even though the commander appeared to be fighting back a grin at the memory, the corners of his mouth twitching upward against his will, his dark eyes softening like melting chocolate, he spoke with a gravity that belied his expression. "You didn't have to do that, you know."

Felix shrugged with practiced nonchalance, his shoulders rising and falling in a fluid motion while he stared fixedly at a point on the wall, hoping the burning sensation creeping up his neck wouldn't betray how the topic made him feel like his robes had suddenly shrunk two sizes.

Hyunjin continued on stubbornly, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve as he pressed on despite Felix's dismissal. "Don't feel like you need to... do things... just because you feel sorry for me—"

"That just might be the most idiotic thing you've said yet, which is saying a lot considering the absolute bullshit you regularly spew," Felix cut in, each word sharp as broken glass, his patience snapping like a frayed wire as he whipped his head back toward the taller male, golden-flecked eyes narrowed to slits beneath furrowed brows. "There are countless individuals I've felt sorry for in my life, and you're the only one whose cock I've put in my mouth, so again, drop the self-loathing for one second and just accept that I did it because I wanted to."

Hyunjin sat frozen, his shock rendering him mute, whether from the harshness of the words or the stark truth they carried. His face flushed a fiery red, but he managed a stiff nod, acknowledging the comment. The silence that followed was thick with unspoken tension, until Hyunjin finally summoned the courage to voice the turmoil roiling inside him. He cleared his throat, his voice trembling yet determined.

"I just wanted to say... even if you think you could fend off someone if you had to... like... I don’t know. Fear doesn’t always make sense... it can overpower any rational thought," he confessed with raw honesty, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears, darting around the room, avoiding the piercing gaze of the blonde beside him. "At least, that’s what I keep telling myself."

Felix felt a cold dread settle in his chest, realizing the depth and direction of this conversation, and how intensely personal it had become in an instant. His stomach churned with regret for his careless words, knowing they had scraped against unhealed wounds in Hyunjin, who had borne unspeakable traumas. Felix was painfully aware now that Hyunjin's past was quite possibly scarred by more than one tormentor, even if Hyunjin had not yet realized that Felix knew.

Instantly, Felix grasped Hyunjin’s right hand with a fierce determination, his grip a lifeline of support. The brunette's eyes widened in surprise, but he allowed Felix to hold on, sensing the urgency in his touch. Felix noticed the storm of emotions Hyunjin was desperately trying to contain, and he began to trace firm, comforting circles into Hyunjin’s skin, drawing a deep, purposeful breath.

“I’m the idiot,” Felix confessed with raw humility, his voice deliberate and unwavering, not once shifting his gaze from his husband despite Hyunjin’s refusal to meet his eyes. “It was never my intent to suggest that you could have stopped what happened to you if you simply fought back. Yet, intent aside, my words were thoughtless and wrong. I am so sorry, Hyunjin. I’ve led a privileged life… I haven’t endured such atrocities… but… during the battle, when those… monsters,” he emphasized with disgust, “threatened Ji, I gave up struggling against them and offered myself in his place to keep him from harm. And I meant it. So… you’re absolutely right. I know. Fear, whether for ourselves or those we love, can utterly consume our decisions, or our inability to make them.”

Felix's heart hammered against his ribs as he tread the razor's edge, carefully selecting each word. He dared only reference what Hyunjin acknowledged he knew—the brutal assaults by the Feloran guard to shield those he loved—not that other dark specter lurking in Hyunjin's past, the one Felix had witnessed by accident in the commander’s haunted memory. The weight of this forbidden knowledge crushed down on Felix's shoulders, unsure of how to broach the subject just yet. A gnawing fear welled up inside him, whispering that addressing it now might unravel the fragile threads of progress he had painstakingly woven.

Lost in his own turbulent thoughts, Felix failed to notice Hyunjin’s intense, furrowed gaze, filled with concern and unspoken questions.

“Felix... before I got there…did they—?”

"No," Felix interjected, shaking his head vigorously. His slender fingers tightened around Hyunjin's calloused palm until his knuckles blanched. The weight of the conversation pressed down on him like a physical burden after the time spent diplomatic maneuvering. "Has it been identified which kingdom they hail from by any chance?" The words tumbled out, deliberately casual.

He caught the confused expression flickering across the commander's chiseled features—the slight furrow between dark brows, the momentary parting of lips—as surprise registered at the elf's sudden interest.

The brunette shook his head, exhaling a breath. His broad shoulders lowered visibly as tension drained from his muscular frame, their hands remaining intertwined like roots beneath ancient trees.

"Not yet,” he sighed, his voice carrying the weight of experience. “We have a protocol for extracting answers from prisoners." Hyunjin's eyes flickered with a hint of amusement as he continued, "Minho always gives every warrior the benefit of the doubt that they were forced into battle and hold no true loyalties to their rulers. And while that may be true for some, in my experience, those types start squealing before we even get them into the dungeons," he admitted, a chuckle escaping his lips at the thought. His words flowed with a natural, surprising honesty as he shared this insight with Felix.

"When Minho finally accepts that no amount of forgiveness, clemency, or promises of sanctuary away from their tyrants will pry any information from them and that they are fully complicit, that’s when I step in," Hyunjin described. His tone was casual, yet there was a hint of nostalgia as he spoke, his grin broadening with pride as he glanced over at Felix.

Felix merely nodded, his eyes widening slightly as his heart fluttered in his chest. What exactly would Hyunjin do to accomplish this goal? The thought sent a chill down his spine, but then another realization struck him like lightning—he potentially possessed vital information for the crown.

"Do forgive me for not disclosing this sooner... the chaos of recent events caused it to completely slip my mind—the soldiers... when they subdued us—Ji and I—they addressed me by title," Felix blurted, his brows furrowing deeply, carving lines into his otherwise flawless complexion. “They knew exactly who I was…”

Hyunjin carefully scanned Felix from head to toe, taking in every detail. “You’re Felix of Felora, son of a king, Prince of Beauty, and ‘The Realm’s Ray of Sunlight,’” he stated with a flat, matter-of-fact tone. “Everyone knows who you are.”

Felix cast a brief glance in Hyunjin's direction, his expression thoughtful before he shook his head again. “Many may know of me, but how could they have recognized me?” he replied, his voice carrying a hint of weariness.

Hyunjin shrugged with an air of casual indifference. “Blonde hair, sun spots, gold in your eyes— you’re not exactly hard to spot in a lineup in Levanter,” he pointed out, a faint smile playing on his lips as he spoke.

Felix almost let out an irritated huff, but stopped short as the description caught his attention.

"Sun spots?" he repeated, his voice edged with curiosity, the term alien to him.

Hyunjin tilted his head, one eyebrow arching with precision. His fingertip hovered with a featherlight touch, tracing an unseen path from the bridge of Felix’s nose to his cheeks, a movement so gentle it was almost imperceptible. The stark contrast between Hyunjin's tender touch and the fierce warrior Felix knew him to be was jarring.

"These spots," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, locking eyes with Felix. In that fleeting moment, the innocence in Hyunjin's demeanor struck a deep chord within the elf, captivating him entirely.

Felix's eyebrows shot up, a chuckle bubbling forth, rich with amusement. "Freckles?" he corrected, his smile filled with warmth and affection.

The taller man scrunched his nose with an endearing quirk, his eyes crinkling in bewilderment as if the very notion was a mystery unraveling before him.

"They're freckles. And actually not exclusive to Felorans, you know," Felix said, his voice catching as the man leaned closer, eyes drinking in every single speckle across Felix's face with an intensity that made the elf's breath hitch in his throat. Heat surged through Felix's body when those lips parted in silent wonder—lips he suddenly imagined crushing against his own until they both gasped for air but he forced himself to drag his mind back from the precipice of reckless desire.

He cleared his throat, the sound harsh in the charged silence between them.

"What I was getting at is that they rejoiced as if I were the very reason they had invaded. One shouted something about thanking their ancestors because I had delivered myself directly to them, or something like that," Felix recalled, his voice heavy with solemnity.

Hyunjin remained eerily still, his eyes fixed forward in a way that sent a shiver down Felix's spine. The silence was deafening, each second stretching like a taut wire about to snap. Felix's heart pounded with apprehension, knowing that what he had shared was far from good news. He couldn't shake the feeling that Hyunjin was a simmering volcano, ready to unleash a devastating fury upon discovering that the elf may have unwittingly caused this attack on his people.

Finally, Hyunjin turned his gaze to Felix, his eyes smoldering with a fire that was both intense and unexpectedly calm. He placed his other hand atop Felix's smaller one that already trembled slightly in his grasp, their fingers still tightly interlaced. The unexpected gentleness of Hyunjin's touch contrasted sharply with the tension, leaving Felix both surprised and deeply unsettled.

"You're a hypocrite," Hyunjin teased with a growing grin, his words catching Felix off guard and drawing a slight frown onto his face. Before Felix could fire back defensively, Hyunjin pressed on, his voice carrying an edge. "I can see the guilt even though the attack is not your fault. Do you think we’re all brawn and no brain? Everyone knew the risks of bringing you here. An elven prince tossed into a pit of dragons with a legacy of hatred and thirst for Feloran blood... To many kingdoms, it probably feels like a divine opportunity handed to them—it would be so easy to snatch you up from under our noses or, better yet, assume we would gladly barter you away to a grim fate for the right price," he taunted, openly mocking such notions, and Felix found the harsh mockery oddly comforting. "Shame on them for forgetting that we, the people of Levanter, hold fast our oaths..." Hyunjin mused, his voice dropping to a dangerous timber that sent a shiver down Felix's spine. “And they definitely didn’t consider that the elf might possess claws of his own..." Hyunjin let the words hang in the air, smirking at the resilience in the smaller man, even if it sometimes grated on him, as his thumb stroked Felix's hand with a fierce tenderness.

Felix blinked in disbelief, questioning if he'd misheard, as the statement could easily be mistaken for a compliment rather than the insult it was likely intended to be. The notorious commander, known for his ruthlessness and lack of mercy, had somehow managed to inflate the elf's ego with what seemed like indirect praise of his power, filling Felix with a bizarre sense of pride.

He chuckled, smirking as he forcefully nudged Hyunjin with his shoulder, watching as Hyunjin let out a knowing snort.

Yet, as silence stretched ominously, Felix's nerves began to fray. The realization that an entire army had been dispatched for him crashed into his consciousness like a tidal wave. Despite the anxiety gnawing at him, there was some comfort in Hyunjin's continued nonchalance. Felix inhaled deeply, steeling himself to move forward. Worry was futile until they had more information.

A a directional shift in the carriage caused the dildo to topple from the bench in front of them and roll squarely onto Felix’s foot. The unexpected action made him wince with embarrassment and his cheeks flush a vivid shade of red, but he couldn't suppress the genuine, unrestrained laughter that bubbled up from deep within, spurred by the sheer absurdity and hilarity of the moment. Hyunjin joined in the merriment with equal fervor, his laughter ringing out as he watched Felix's amusement intensify with every peal of Hyunjin’s infectious laugh.

In a moment of unguarded mirth, Felix let out a snort, quickly bringing a hand to his mouth, which only caused Hyunjin to laugh even harder. Their laughter spiraled, each setting the other off in a crescendo of joyous hilarity until they were both engulfed in a state of full-blown, shared hysterics.

Despite the circumstances surrounding them, the atmosphere felt lighter, imbued with an intimate sense of closeness and comfort that only deepened their unexpected bond.

Through tears that blurred the edges of his vision, Hyunjin watched the elf cackling—head thrown back, and eyes crinkled into crescents. Felix's smile, brighter than the midday sun, revealed a row of pearly teeth that seemed to glow. Such unbridled joy on the elf's delicate features felt like a precious artifact the battle-worn commander had no right to witness. A ray of sunlight breaking through storm clouds, indeed.

Meanwhile, Minho was perched atop his powerful steed, just a few carriage lengths ahead of the couple in the carriage. The sound of their unrestrained laughter pierced the air, echoing thunderously throughout the caravan.

“Should we investigate?” A soldier demanded urgently, gripping the reins of his horse tightly beside the king, his voice edged with tension and concern as the laughter echoed around them.

Minho's lips curled into a serene but steely smile, his gaze fixed like a hawk on the path ahead. "To find such a marvelous sound suspicious," he mused, his voice laced with an undercurrent of melancholy, "shows just how dark the times have become."

With a determined stride, he moved toward home, the vibrant laughter of his dear brother and brother-in-law reverberating in his heart.

Yet, his eyes flashed with a warning as he turned to the soldier, his smile sharpening to a razor's edge. "And anyone who dares interrupt my Jinnie from actually enjoying himself for once," he declared, voice dripping with fierce protectiveness, "will find themselves spending the rest of the way home being dragged behind the carriage by their hair."

Chapter Text

They returned to the castle as the sun bled across the horizon. Due to the touch and proximity on the ride home, Felix couldn’t keep the memories of that morning's carriage encounter with Hyunjin from burning through his veins.

He stumbled from the carriage, dizzy with relief that no prying eyes would witness the flush that refused to leave his cheeks. Soldiers moved around him like ghosts, their voices a distant buzz beneath the roar of his own pulse. Back in Felora, even a one-hour absence warranted trumpets and fanfare; here, the silence crushed against his ears, making his thoughts scream louder.

Hyunjin's eyes locked with his for one scorching moment before he vanished into the castle hastily, his parting words—"See you tonight"—hanging in the air like a threat or a promise. Felix couldn't decide which terrified him more. They weren't exactly friends, despite how Hyunjin's laughter and lighthearted banter during their ride home had clawed its way under Felix's skin.

Felix hadn't exactly expected Hyunjin to walk him in or anything—they weren't courting nobles from some antiquated romance novel—but being so quickly left in the dust after what he considered to be such progress felt a little like being pushed out of a nest mid-flight, wings still half-folded.

Nevertheless, he smoothed his hair, straightened his cuffs, and tried to walk the flagstones as if every muscle in his legs wasn’t made of custard, clutching his bag against his chest like a shield, the soiled clothing from that morning's encounter folded at the top a damning testament to what had transpired.

He practically ran all the way up the grueling stone steps to get to his chambers, taking them two at a time despite the burn in his calves, desperate to wash away the evidence from the silk before visiting Jisung and gifting him with the contraceptives—and especially before anyone could glimpse the other items he'd purchased in a moment of reckless courage.

In reality, only the contraceptives were intended for Jisung. As for the lubricant and the dildo with its smooth surface and gentle curve that had made Felix's cheeks burn even as he'd handed over his coins... well, those treasures now lay wrapped in the bottom drawer of the nightstand on his side of the bed, waiting for a day when his curiosity might finally overcome his hesitation. His skin tingled at the mere thought of it.

After he was certain the evidence of his excursion was carefully hidden, Felix entered the washroom. The silk easily came clean with cold water and careful attention, though Felix's hands trembled as he worked the fabric between his fingers. Each stroke reminded him of Hyunjin's touch, of the way those calloused fingers had stroked him to completion. Felix bit his lip, trying to focus on the task at hand rather than the memory of Hyunjin's breath against his neck, the scent of leather and heat that clung to the commander's skin.

Felix hung the garment to dry with more force than necessary, water droplets scattering across the stone floor like his scattered thoughts.

He stripped from his Feloran robes and hastily changed into a simple tunic and trousers he’d been gifted before his wedding, the rough-spun Levanter fabric a stark contrast to his homeland's silks, before rushing down the winding stone corridors to Jisung's chambers, his footsteps echoing against the walls as his heart thundered in his chest.

Without even a courtesy knock, he burst through the heavy oak door, the bag clutched to his chest like a talisman. As soon as the latch clicked behind him, however, he squeezed his eyes shut as the exhilarating courage that had propelled him there evaporated like morning mist. Shame crawled up his neck in a hot flush, and he lifted the bag to shield his face, words tumbling from his lips in a breathless, desperate confession.

“Okay, don’t judge me, but you know how, after the battle, I got the overwhelming urge to touch Hyunjin? Well, it happened again, but instead of just stroking him, I got on my knees and—Gods, the noises that man makes—Shameless! So I couldn’t help it— I asked if I could touch myself while doing it but then he pulled me in his lap and he may or may not have stroked us to climax together—like, cocks pressed together, kissing, and everything—and I may or may not have enjoyed it to the point where it’s all I can currently think about. It’s hard to look at him without picturing how he looks when he finished or remembering how he tastes and I feel so scandalous and I’m afraid I might have something wrong with me, Ji, and I don’t know how to process any of these feelings so I’m asking you to just listen to me ramble for as long as it takes until my brain catches up and I stop sounding like a mad man. Okay?”

When the last word had tumbled from his lips and the room fell into a silence so thick it seemed to swallow sound itself, Felix cautiously raised his head above the crinkled bag. His trembling fingers clutched the edges as his gaze landed on Jisung, whose eyes had widened to perfect circles, his palms clamped desperately over Minho's ears. The two perched like startled birds on the edge of the unmade bed. But Minho's face—that knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, those dark eyes dancing with both shock and delight—told Felix everything he dreaded to know. Every syllable, every confession, had reached its unintended target. Heat rushed up Felix's neck and bloomed across his cheeks in splotches of crimson that burned beneath his freckles.

Jisung stuttered, his eyes bulging as they locked onto Felix, though the corner of his mouth twitched violently, betraying the wild laughter threatening to erupt from his chest.

“It was too late to warn you by the time I realized what you were saying—“

"If you'll excuse me," Felix cut in with a smile so brittle it threatened to shatter his face, "I'll be hurling myself from the highest window of the castle. Should you require my remains, I do apologize, but they'll be incinerated by the lava below.”

He bent at the waist in a bow so deep his spine cracked, then whirled toward the door. After three desperate strides toward escape, Minho practically materialized before him, arms spread wide across the door as he blocked Felix's only path to salvation.

Damn Minho to the deepest circle of hell for those lightning-quick legs of his, Felix cursed internally, his entire body rigid with mortification.

Minho's eyes blazed with satisfaction, his lips curling into a knowing grin that made Felix all the more humiliated.

"Do you seek to torment me? Brothers, birds of a feather, I take it?" Felix snapped, his voice sharp as a blade's edge, freckles standing stark against his flushed skin.

Minho's smile dropped instantly, the playful glint in his dark eyes replaced with something softer. He raised his palms in surrender, silver rings catching the light.

"Hannie told me to stop you," he explained, voice melodic even in its simplicity. His gaze drifted to Jisung, and his entire demeanor transformed—shoulders relaxing, lips curving into a gentle smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. It was the look of absolute devotion, like a faithful hound awaiting his master's praise.

Despite the mortification still burning through his veins, Felix couldn't help but marvel at how his best friend had somehow managed to turn this formidable ruler into putty in his hands.

Felix didn't look back at Jisung, a hot wave of irritation washing over him that his friend would have Minho block his escape like some cruel spectator to his mortification. But then Jisung let out a sharp, pained whine that sliced through the air—a sound like broken glass that transformed the atmosphere instantly. Minho's smile vanished as if it had been wiped away by an invisible hand, his eyes widening with alarm. He bolted past Felix in a blur of motion. The door stood unguarded now, freedom just steps away, but Felix's body acted on instinct—his friend’s wellbeing before his own personal comfort— so he spun around to see Jisung's knees buckling beneath him like wilting stems. Jisung's fingers clutched desperately at the bedpost as he attempted to stand, trembling with effort as Minho reached him, his strong arms encircling his waist just as Jisung began to crumple toward the floor.

"Ji!" Felix exclaimed, his voice cracking with panic as he rushed to the half-elf's side. The bag tumbled forgotten to the stone floor as Felix's trembling hand found Jisung's back.

"Oh my god, you two! It's okay! I'm fine!" Jisung insisted, his raven waves falling across his forehead as he waved both men off. He swayed precariously when Minho's steadying grasp reluctantly withdrew. "Okay, so I haven't been taking it as easy as I should be. I probably shouldn't have trekked all those stairs to see you off this morning, and, yeah, so maybe I fell a few times trying to get back up them, but I'm fine. Jeongin said I didn’t break anything else, and I just have to take it easier," he added, the bruises still decorating his face a testament to the trauma he had endured less than a fortnight ago. His hand drifted to his upper abdomen, pressing gingerly against what must have been tender flesh beneath the thin fabric, a grimace flashing across his features before he forced it into a reassuring smile. "Both of you worry about me way too much. Damn hypocrites. I should put you on bed rest instead. In fact—" He reached out, his arms encircling both men with surprising strength for someone so injured, pulling them toward the rumpled sheets of his bed.

Endeared by Jisung's stubborn persistence, both men surrendered with soft chuckles that melted the tension from the air. They tumbled onto the mattress, neither having the will to deny Jisung affection, then carefully arranged themselves to cradle Jisung between their bodies like precious cargo, the bed frame creaking softly beneath their combined weight.

As Felix rested comfortably on Jisung's left, he recalled the crumpled paper bag on the stone floor, its contents still hidden within the creased brown folds. He abruptly sat up, the mattress dipping beneath his shifting weight as he remembered his original purpose for being there.

Jisung's slender fingers shot out, tangling in Felix's blonde locks, yanking him back down with surprising strength for someone injured. Felix's indignant yelp echoed off the chamber walls as he tumbled backward, his freckled face contorting into an exaggerated scowl that couldn't quite mask the fondness in his eyes.

"You two have had a busy day. How about a nap before dinner?" Jisung suggested, his lips curling into a smirk of victory, his grip still firmly twisted in Felix's silky strands.

Minho surrendered without hesitation, his devotion as palpable as the warmth radiating from his body. He turned to face Jisung, draping his arm across his waist with deliberate gentleness, careful not to touch anywhere he knew purple bruises bloomed beneath the fabric of Jisung’s shirt. Jisung released Felix's hair, the strands slipping through his fingers like water, and for a heartbeat seemed ready to nestle against Minho's broad chest but, instead, he pivoted toward Felix, wrapping a deceptively strong arm around his middle, pressing close enough that Felix could feel Jisung's heartbeat against his ribs. The vise-like grip told Felix everything—there would be no escape from the interrogation to come.

“So, tell me everything from start to finish and don’t leave out a single detail,” Jisung demanded smugly, locking his leg over Felix's legs and nuzzling his cheek against his best friend's shoulder.

“Please, not every detail,” Minho groaned tiredly in disgust, earning a giggle from Jisung.

"Then cover your ears," Jisung retorted, squeezing Felix tightly while wiggling excitedly between them. "I need all the dirty details. Every single one." His eyebrows danced suggestively. "My baby is all grown up." He wiped an invisible tear, sniffling dramatically, and reached to pinch Felix's cheek, which earned him a mock-threatening hand raised toward his bruised face. Jisung recoiled with an exaggerated wince and whine, then broke into giggles that Felix couldn't help but join.

His eyes darted nervously in Minho's direction, feeling as if at any moment, Minho might lunge across the room, seize him by the throat with those calloused hands, and exact brutal revenge for what he'd done with his younger brother.

Jisung's eyes flashed dangerously. "Watch," he commanded. "Start with the boring, mundane stuff, and he'll be unconscious before you even mention the spicy details. Trust me." His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, a wicked grin slashing across his face like he was plotting a heist. The timing was impeccable—a sudden, unmistakable snore erupted from behind him, causing both Jisung and Felix to convulse with violent, suppressed laughter, their faces reddening as they struggled not to wake the king.

"Told you!" Jisung hissed, his eyes blazing with vindication even as his words fought their way through his palm clamped over his mouth.

Felix's cheeks burned, but the sound of his friend's laughter—alive, here, not murdered by those invading bastards—made warmth spread in his chest. He pushed away thoughts of what might have been: an empty room, silence, a grave. Instead, he leaned closer, voice barely above a whisper to avoid disturbing the sleeping king, and began recounting every moment of his journey, sparing no dirty details, each word a celebration that they were both still here to share such intimate secrets.

As Felix described the way Hyunjin's hands had felt against his skin, the heat in his gaze, the demanding press of his lips, Jisung's eyes widened, his mouth forming a perfect 'o' of delighted shock.

Felix never imagined himself in such an odd predicament, whispering about intimate encounters with Jisung across silk pillows while King Minho—brother to the very subject of Felix's salacious tales—lay curled behind Jisung like a contented cat, his royal cheek pressed against Jisung's shoulder blade, dark lashes fluttering in deep sleep. It was, Felix thought, a peculiar tableau to speak of such things while the kingdom's ruler dozed obliviously nearby. But if Minho had chosen Jisung as his beloved partner, then surely Felix and Minho were destined to forge their own friendship—though Felix silently thanked the gods that Minho's ears currently remained deaf to tales of Felix and his brother's passionate endeavors.

Felix ended his breathless monologue by sliding off the rumpled bedspread to retrieve his bag from where it had fallen. Jisung's fingers trembled slightly as he accepted the bag and peered inside, nostrils flaring at the faint scent of latex.

"Use them or my next purchase for you will be a chastity belt," Felix warned, arms crossed over his chest, one eyebrow arched in challenge.

Jisung's slender fingers reluctantly extracted the box of foil packets, placing it on the nightstand with all the enthusiasm of someone handling a dead fish.

He whined indignantly, glaring at Felix, but Felix turned away, deaf to Jisung's litany of excuses—how it felt better without barriers, how his body couldn't possibly conceive.
"I'll see you at dinner," Felix called over his shoulder, only to hear Jisung's voice crack through the air behind him. He spun around instinctively, hands flying up to catch the projectiles hurled at his chest. Several foil packets scattered between his fingers.

"Don't be a hypocrite!" Jisung's face split into a wolfish grin that made Felix's blood simmer.

"You're delusional," Felix spat, throat suddenly dry. "Fooling around is one thing, but what you're suggesting—" He swallowed hard, the weight of his own intrusive desires crushing his chest. "That's not happening. Ever. I despise him." The words tasted hollow even as molten desire pooled low in his belly. "Besides," he added, voice dropping to a ragged whisper, "his size rivals his audacity. I'd be split in two." The fresh memory of Hyunjin’s large member made Felix's breath catch painfully, his body flushing hot at the vivid recollection. Yet the thought of surrendering to that impossible fullness, of being utterly claimed by Hyunjin, sent violent tremors down his spine. If mere hands had left him shattered, complete possession would surely destroy him—a destruction he was beginning to crave with terrifying intensity.

"For fuck's sake, Felix! You don't just ram it in like you're storming a castle," Jisung cackled. "If you’re bottoming, you have to work yourself open, you know. Until you’re comfortable. Communication, communication, communication! You’re both supposed to enjoy it."

Felix's throat went dry, heart hammering against his ribs. "Ah, yes. Enjoying one another and communicating— clearly our strong suit," he snarled, the bitterness in his voice barely masking the raw hunger beneath. "We'd sooner draw blood."

"Your actions say differently," Jisung taunted, his smirk razor-sharp. Felix hurled the contraceptives back with enough force to make Jisung flinch.

Jisung's surrender was immediate—palms up, eyes wide with mock innocence.

Felix turned to leave but froze in the doorway, transfixed. Jisung's body tensed visibly as he shifted, a grimace of agony flashing across his face before dissolving into something unbearably tender. His trembling fingers traced the sleeping king's jawline with such reverence that Felix's chest constricted. When Jisung's lips met Minho's, the king stirred just enough to smile against the kiss, murmuring something unintelligible, vulnerable in his half-consciousness.

The intimacy gutted Felix like a blade. His heart simultaneously swelled and shattered, knowing with crushing certainty now that the queen mother would eventually tear them apart, leaving nothing but ghosts where this perfect, forbidden moment had existed.

Chapter Text

The sharp rap at the door jolted Felix from his thoughts. A castle attendant's voice cut through—the king demanded his presence at dinner. Come as you are, she had announced.

Felix stared at his reflection, the smudged kohl around his eyes a battlefield of the day's emotions. To hell with it, he thought. They'd seen him drenched in sweat, in tears, in blood. He opted to remain in his simple tunic and breeches, relishing in being able to appear unadorned before royalty. His fingers worked through his hair, each stroke of the comb sending tiny golden strands floating in the lamplight.

Felix's reflection stared back at him as he secured his blonde locks into a low ponytail, the ends brushing against the nape of his neck. The simple tunic hung loose across his shoulders. In the mirror, a commoner gazed back—no circlet, no embroidered insignias, no telltale elven adornments. His lips curved into a small, satisfied smile. Here in Levanter, where it seemed warriors wore what suited them and royals dined with lowborns, he felt as though he could breathe without the weight of protocol crushing his lungs.

His husband still hadn't returned, so Felix opted to head to the dining hall by himself, his soft-soled boots whispering against the stone floors of the corridor. The castle was bustling with activity, staff and soldiers weaving through corridors like ants in a disturbed hill. Kitchen staff balanced precarious trays of steaming food, messengers darted between groups with scrolls clutched to their chests, and guards stood at attention every few paces, their armor glinting in the torchlight. The air hummed with dozens of overlapping conversations, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter or clatter of dropped cutlery.

He nodded and exchanged pleasantries with various staff and soldiers—a cook with flour-dusted hands, a guard with a fresh scar across her cheek, an elderly steward whose spine remained ramrod straight despite his years.

He wondered if there was some sort of special occasion—perhaps a visiting dignitary or seasonal celebration he hadn't been informed of. The heightened energy in the corridors, the extra polish on the guards' armor, and the particularly elaborate dishes being ferried from the kitchens all suggested something was afoot.

Felix rounded the corner into the main hallway when he spotted a young girl, no older than six, with copper curls and a red linen dress. She gasped, wide-eyed, and ducked behind her mother's skirts, a lady-in-waiting with the same auburn hair and the dragon embroidered on her sleeve. The child's fingers clutched the fabric tightly, her knuckles white as she peered out at the elf with unmistakable terror.

Felix held up his hands placatantly and slowly crouched to her eye level as she clung to the hem of her mother's dress.

The mother gazed down at him, her lips curving into what might have passed for an apologetic smile if not for the tightness at its edges.

"She's shy with strangers," the woman murmured, but her fingers clutched her daughter's shoulder a fraction too firmly. Felix caught the subtle flicker in her eyes—that unmistakable wariness. He could almost hear the bedtime stories she must have whispered to her child: tales of elven trickery, of golden flakes within the eyes that signaled danger, of beautiful faces that masked cold hearts. The woman's knuckles whitened against the red fabric of her daughter's dress, her protective stance betraying what her courteous words attempted to conceal—a deep-rooted aversion to Felix's kind she couldn't bring herself to voice aloud.

A familiar ache bloomed in Felix's chest. The irony wasn't lost on him—he'd spent his childhood trembling at bedtime stories of Levanter warriors who drank elven blood from goblets made of skull bone and wore necklaces of severed ears. He offered the woman a warm, reassuring smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, then shifted his attention back to the little girl. Her copper curls reminded him of autumn leaves in his homeland.

Stretching his lithe frame, he reached toward a nearby crystal vase where delicate starbursts of goldenrod and buttercup blooms nestled among sprigs of fragrant lavender. His slender fingers selected the tiniest blossom. He extended it toward the child, who regarded both the flower and his hand as one might eye a beautiful snake poised between curiosity and the certainty of venom.

"Gigi," Hyunjin's voice cut through the hall like a blade, making heads turn as he stalked toward them. The commander's presence dominated the space—his blood-red fur coat hanging open to reveal nothing but bare skin underneath, the black leather pants gripping his muscled thighs like a second skin, each step punctuated by boots with crimson spikes. "Are you a Daughter of Levanter?" he demanded, his voice dropping to a dangerous timbre as he positioned himself beside Felix, his eyes never leaving the child, one eyebrow arched in challenge.

The girl's chin trembled, but she nodded.

"Prove it," Hyunjin commanded, his arms crossing over his exposed chest, the veins in his forearms standing out like rivers on a map.

She burst from behind her mother's skirts as though propelled by invisible force, spine snapping straight, shoulders thrown back. Her tiny face hardened into a warrior's mask as she locked eyes with Felix, her gaze burning with such ferocity that even the elf felt a flicker of unease.

"Do you fear him?" Hyunjin asked, his finger jabbing toward Felix while his eyes bored into the girl's soul.

She shook her head, jaw clenched so tight Felix could see the tiny muscles in her temples pulsing.

"And if he were to harm your mother?" Hyunjin leaned in, his shadow engulfing her small frame. "Would you cower while she screamed?" The words fell like stones between them.

Once again, she fiercely responded with a shake of her head, her brows furrowing so deeply they nearly touched, nostrils flaring with each determined breath.

"What would you do?" He inquired, dropping to one knee with fluid grace, the leather of his pants creaking as he brought his scarred face level with hers, his expression suddenly gentle as spring rain.

The child lunged into a fighter's stance, her tiny body coiled like a spring. She bared her teeth at Felix and snarled like a wolf cub facing down a predator—her fists white-knuckled and shaking with rage.

Felix snorted incredulously but pressed his lips together, watching as Hyunjin's mouth curved into a proud smirk. The commander's calloused hand ruffled the girl's fiery curls, chuckling lightly as he rose back to his full, imposing height.

"Alright. Stand down, soldier. He's not going to hurt you," Hyunjin announced, his voice softening to a velvet rumble that contradicted his imposing appearance. His scarred fingers brushed the child's copper curls again as he glanced at Felix, his piercing eyes lingering on the elf's delicate features before returning to the girl. "Isn't it past your bedtime?" he questioned, lips quirking into a half-smile that revealed a flash of white teeth against his sun-tanned skin.

Her mother stepped in swiftly. "Indeed, it is. Goodnight, Commander." She paused, her throat visibly tightening before adding, "Pleasure meeting you... elf." The final word hung in the air like frost as she nodded with practiced courtesy, her eyes never quite meeting Felix's. She retreated down the corridor, the hem of her dress sweeping the stone floor as she pulled her daughter along.

Hyunjin turned to Felix, who stood directly before him, the elf's eyebrows drawn together in a furrow that creased his otherwise flawless skin.

"Forgive me if I am overstepping, but… I’m afraid eliminating fear entirely from children might be unwise, Commander," Felix said, his voice low. "Fear exists for a reason—it's a primal survival instinct, no?"

Hyunjin's dark eyes locked with his husband's as he leaned in. "You’re forgiven," he said, his tone flat but his lips curling upward when Felix's face fell.

Without another word, Hyunjin turned and strode down the torch-lit hallway.

Felix quickly followed, his light footfalls barely audible against the stone floor as he caught up to walk beside the commander. His eyes reflected the dancing flames as he glanced up at his husband, unable to suppress the concern etched across his delicate features.

"In a fight-or-flight situation, fighting cannot always be the best choice," Felix said, his low voice echoing softly against the ancient walls. "What if someone were to force their way into her home in the dead of night? Would it not be safest if she were trained to hide away, remain utterly still, and make no sound instead of attempting to face off with a grown adult— especially one hardened by years of battle and bloodshed?" His slender fingers gestured expressively as he kept pace with the human easily, despite Hyunjin's much longer legs and purposeful stride.

"Perhaps," Hyunjin replied, his shoulders rising and falling in a casual shrug that made the red fur of his coat brush against his bare collarbone. His calloused fingers drummed against the hilt of the dagger situated in its holster at his hip. "But in some cases, fleeing isn't an option. When there’s nowhere to run and hide, teaching a young girl to bare her teeth rather than cower under a bed or hide in some closet might save her life someday." The torchlight caught the old scar that bisected his left eyebrow as he tilted his head. "In Levanter, our women command battalions and bleed on the same battlefields as men. We don't lock them in towers with embroidery hoops— unless that’s what they please. It’s entirely their choice." His voice remained calm, but his eyes stayed fixed ahead.

"Do you really believe that if someone like me, with my gifts, intended to harm her, she would stand a fighting chance?" Felix inquired dubiously. He held up his hand, palm up, where emerald and sapphire sparks danced between his fingertips like tiny stars being born. "A child against such power?"

Hyunjin's jaw clenched so hard a muscle jumped beneath his cheek. "And if someone like you intended to harm her, what good would cowering—hiding— do her? Couldn’t you just use some kind of magic to detect her?” Hyunjin's dark eyes slid sideways, catching Felix in a sidelong glance that lingered just long enough to trace the furrowed line between the elf's delicate brows, the slight parting of his lips, the distant shimmer in his gaze that suggested his mind had wandered far from the stone corridor where they stood. Satisfied that his husband was lost in contemplation rather than preparing a counterargument, Hyunjin squared his shoulders beneath the crimson coat and continued, his voice taking on a harder edge. "She's a child, Felix. If faced with people intending to harm her, she's going to be found and overpowered, but I want her last act to be ripping out their fucking throat with her teeth. I want her to gouge their eyes until her fingers hit brain. Should she die, I want her to die with their blood in her mouth and their skin under her nails so they'll be marked." His hand had found the hilt of his dagger again, knuckles white. "So when her spirit rises, it can hunt them through every nightmare and torment their dreams until they slit their own throats for relief."

Felix's chest tightened as realization crashed through him—Hyunjin wasn't just teaching survival, he was exorcising his own demons. The commander's white-knuckled grip on his dagger, the muscle jumping beneath his scarred cheek, the raw emotion blazing in his eyes—these weren't the calculated responses of a military leader. This was the desperate rage of a boy who once cowered when he believed he should have clawed.

He couldn't shake the image—the memory— of Hyunjin as a child, cowering beneath his mother's shadow as she spat venom about weakness—her words like knives carving permanent scars into his soul.

Yet beneath his empathy churned something darker. Cold dread seized the elf’s heart upon the symmetry unfolding before him. He feared Hyunjin may be perpetuating the same poisonous cycle.

“Just don’t… overdo it?” Felix said, gentling his voice. His hand hovered as if to brush Hyunjin’s wrist, but fell away just short—unsure if the gesture would be swatted or welcomed. “Teaching them to defend themselves is one thing, but if they fall down—if they bleed and cry and crawl into a corner because they're afraid—that doesn't make them weak." He exhaled sharply, his voice cracking with raw desperation. "Please… don’t ever raise your voice to shame them, or raise a—”

"Felix." Hyunjin's voice dropped to a lethal whisper as he seized the elf's wrist. In one quick motion, he yanked his dagger free and slammed the hilt into Felix's palm, fingers crushing around the elf's delicate hand until knuckles whitened. He drove the blade's tip against his own chest. "Swear to me— if I ever raise a hand to a child, you will take this blade and drive it through my heart while I still breathe. That is a direct order from your commander. No hesitation. No mercy."

Felix's throat tightened, his voice dropping to a ragged whisper that burned with intensity. "Then swear this to me," he hissed, eyes boring into his husband’s. "Swear you'll never project your self-loathing onto those children. What happened wasn't your fault." His eyes blazed, pupils dilated with emotion. "Had you fought that bastard, you would have surely died. You knew the power he wielded. Your brothers would have been left to their own devices. He would have taken Young Innie like he wanted all along. Levanter would have lost its future commander, the very man who saved the entire fucking kingdom from invasion atop his dragon." Felix's breath came in sharp bursts now, his chest heaving. "If darkness ever threatens to consume you, Hyunjin—" he yanked Hyunjin closer until their foreheads nearly touched, "—take it out on me. Only me. Never the children. I can take it. I will take it. Swear it on your life."

Hyunjin swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as if it were choking back centuries of bitterness and blood. He did not look away. Their faces remained barely inches apart, breaths mingling, eyes locked like adversaries on the precipice of something final.

“It’s time for dinner,” Hyunjin’s voice was gravel, soft but unyielding.

Felix backed away, the dagger slipping from his trembling fingers and clattering against the stone floor. The metallic echo reverberated between them like the last note of their unfinished argument.

Felix’s chest tightened when all Hyunjin offered was a deflection. The statement where the oath should have been felt like a betrayal. His hands curled into fists at his sides, aching with the need to demand, to shake the words free from Hyunjin, but the commander only moved on as if the plea hadn’t been spoken. Disappointment pooled in Felix’s gut.

Hyunjin felt the ache behind those wide eyes boring into him and forced himself to ignore it. To swear that oath would be a lie, not because he would ever be cruel to a child in the ways so many were cruel to him, but because he could not stomach the alternative Felix demanded. Though he’d done it before blindly, the idea of consciously electing to turn his rage, his darkest fire, on Felix was unthinkable. He would rather carve it into his own flesh, burn himself down to nothing, than let the elf bear a burden ingrained so deeply within him. Better Felix’s disappointment at his evasiveness than Felix’s blood on his hands.

Felix's eyes raked over Hyunjin's form, catching on the deliberate exposure of skin where the commander's coat hung open.

"Playing the barbarian tonight, are we?" Felix jested dryly. His gaze burned a path down the exposed strip of Hyunjin's torso, lingering on the sharp cut of muscle disappearing beneath his waistband.

Hyunjin's chuckle dissolved the tension between them as he stepped deliberately back into Felix's space, eyes darkening with intent. "Actually," he smirked, "we have guests, and I intend to… make an impression." His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, the gesture both threat and promise.

Felix's brow furrowed as they continued to the dining hall. Unexpected voices drifted through the doorway—refined accents he hadn't heard in a while. He stepped through the threshold and halted mid-stride. At least two dozen familiar faces turned toward him, silk-draped nobles from Felora rising in unison at his entrance.

Before he could collect himself, his mother's former advisor—a silver-haired man with fox-like eyes—approached with outstretched hands. The elder's warm greeting died in the air between them as Felix stood paralyzed, his tongue suddenly leaden behind his teeth.

But he couldn’t comprehend why their familiar faces filled him with such inexplicable dread when he could recall no specific trauma at their hands. These weren't his tormentors or executioners—just silk-draped diplomats he'd nodded to a thousand times in palace corridors. Yet his body screamed danger as if facing a battlefield rather than a banquet.

Perhaps, it was merely because they were witnesses to his former life, ghosts from a world he'd attempted to wall off. Every face reflected a piece of himself he'd sacrificed at Levanter's altar. The memory of this morning flashed white-hot through his mind: Hyunjin's mouth at his throat, his own desperate whimpers, and coming undone at the hands of the commander. His skin burned with the certainty that they could smell Hyunjin on his skin, see the shadow of possession in every movement. These people who had watched him grow up now stood before a stranger wearing his face—a stranger who got on his knees for a barbarian man and so desperately desired to do so again.

Felix took mild comfort in noting none of them seemed disgusted or judgmental as they greeted him with polite bows and delicate curtseys.

He settled into the high-backed chair beside Hyunjin. His husband's warmth radiated through the crimson coat, a stark contrast to Minho's cool, regal presence on Hyunjin's other side. Felix's eyes darted around the room, scanning the sea of silk-draped nobles for Jisung's familiar grin. His absence left a hollow feeling in Felix's chest—he'd counted on exchanging subtle glances and whispered commentary about the visiting dignitaries.

He leaned forward, angled past his husband to address the king.

"Ji?" Felix asked, his voice casual though concern threaded beneath the single syllable.

Minho's fingers paused on the stem of his crystal goblet. "He aggravated his injuries more than he should have," the raven-haired king explained, his golden crown gleaming against his dark hair. "But Innie is keeping him company."

Felix slumped back slightly, torn between wanting to march to Jisung's chambers to scold him and relief that his friend was finally resting.

Whispers slithered through the hall like serpents as the nobles awaited the king's blessing. "Like a mausoleum," one muttered, eyeing the stone walls. "Perpetual gloom," another muttered of the skies. Felix's spine stiffened at each barb.

A thunderous belch erupted beside him, and Felix's goblet nearly toppled as he jerked toward Hyunjin, who sat with a smirk plastered across his face. The nobles' faces contorted in horror—mouths agape, eyes bulging—yet not one dared breathe a word of reprimand. Blood rushed to Felix's cheeks as he watched his husband deliberately desecrate every sacred rule of elven etiquette. Across the table, several elders clutched their pearls while Minho's shoulders quaked with barely contained laughter, face hidden behind his napkin.

"Excuse you," Felix choked out, his voice strangled between mortification and amusement as he averted his gaze, his traitorous lips twisting into a grin that felt like rebellion itself.

Hyunjin merely reached, snatching Felix's untouched wineglass. His throat worked in violent gulps, draining it after having already downed his own. His eyes—dark and challenging—never left Felix's face, daring him to object. Felix's jaw clenched, a muscle twitching beneath his skin as he shook his head, lips curling into a scathing eye-roll.

"You’re… unbelievable," he murmured, but the jab only delighted Hyunjin.

The commander's tongue swept slowly across his wine-stained lips before he slammed the empty glass down with enough force to make the silverware jump.
Finally, Minho's hand crashed against the table as he surged to his feet with a practiced smile. The room plunged into immediate, suffocating silence, every head snapping toward him as if yanked by invisible strings.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Felora," Minho's voice cut through the tension, "what an unexpected pleasure to host you today." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "I must apologize if our battle-worn castle fails to meet the exacting standards you're accustomed to in your marble halls. The blood has barely dried on our fields." He gestured broadly, the movement sharp. "But please—demand whatever comforts you require during your unannounced visit." The crystal goblet trembled slightly in his white-knuckled grip as he raised it.

Felix could understand his frustrations. After all, these silk-draped Felorans had descended without warning on a kingdom still counting its dead, and here was Minho, forced to perform courtesies while wearing his crown over barely-healed wounds.

"I burn with curiosity to learn what urgent matter dragged you to our lands tonight," Minho's voice dripped honey over steel as he lifted his glass higher, the crimson liquid catching the light like blood. The nobles mirrored him with mechanical precision.

The instant Minho dropped into his seat, he tore into his meat, teeth flashing. The room followed suit, the scrape of cutlery like weapons being drawn. Minho's eyes locked onto Felix's mother's former advisor, and with a single commanding nod, he forced the elder's throat to clear with an audible rasp that echoed through the hall.

“Her Majesty merely wanted us to check on her dearly beloved son as well as acquaint us, trusted citizens of Felora, with the royal family of Levanter, as it is crucial to instill trust for the longevity of any union," he explained with practiced diplomacy, his voice carrying through the hall like a blade wrapped in silk. Some nobles nodded their approval while others exchanged sharp, calculating glances across the table, their whispers hissing like arrows through the tense air between them.

Felix's breath hitched at the mention of his mother. Something twisted in his ribcage—part homesick child reaching for her, part abandoned son recoiling from the memory. The silk garments she'd dressed him in for the journey still haunted him; how carefully she'd arranged him like an offering before sending him away to bloodthirsty strangers. He told himself daily that sacrificing one prince for the peace of thousands of subjects was mathematics, not betrayal, and that knowledge should bring pride instead of this hollow ache of resentment.

"Let her know that he's better than ever," Hyunjin cut in, the words slicing through the diplomatic veneer. He yanked Felix's ornate chair closer with a screech against the stone floor, the movement possessive and deliberate. He leaned back with languid confidence, draping a muscled arm across the back of Felix's seat, blatantly claiming his territory with a wolfish grin.

Down the table, a woman with silver-threaded platinum hair and a face mapped with fine lines—a trusted lady-in-waiting of his mother's— studied them. Her jade-ringed fingers tapped against her goblet three times before she spoke.

"Her Majesty also wishes to inquire whether we should be looking forward to a little elfling any time soon," she chimed, her voice honeyed but her eyes sharp as arrowheads. Her smile remained fixed, porcelain-perfect beneath the weight of jewels that hung from her elongated ears.

Felix's ears burned crimson at their tips, the heat spreading down to flush his neck.

Hyunjin, however, seemed to feed on the tension like a man savoring a fine wine. He leaned forward with deliberate slowness, forearms landing heavily on the pristine tablecloth—a gesture that made several elven nobles visibly recoil. His head tilted at a calculating angle as his smirk widened. Felix's stomach knotted as he recognized that dangerous glint in Hyunjin's eyes.

"So, you want to know if I've been fucking him raw?" Hyunjin retorted without pause.

Jeweled goblets froze midway to parted lips as nobles gasped and several dignitaries choked on mouthfuls of roasted pheasant, their eyes bulging as they reached desperately for water.

Minho turned sharply toward his brother, lips pressed into a bloodless line. His knuckles whitened around his fork before he jabbed Hyunjin's forearm in reprimand with enough force to leave a mark.

Felix attempted to force a brittle laugh that sounded hollow even to his own ears, his throat constricting as heat crawled up his neck and pooled in his cheeks. He stared fixedly at the intricate patterns carved into his plate, wishing the stone floor would crack open and swallow him whole.

"I guess you'll have to wait and find out," Hyunjin finished with a proud smile, leaning back in his chair with the satisfaction of a wolf who'd just scattered a flock of sheep.

The elven nobles recovered with practiced grace, their bejeweled fingers returning to delicate silverware as they pretended the vulgarity had never pierced their ears. They busied themselves with slicing tender meat into precise, tiny portions, their movements as measured as a court dance. However, it didn’t go unnoticed how many shifted uncomfortably in their seats, exchanging knowing glances across goblets of wine. Their whispers rustled like autumn leaves, punctuated by sidelong glances at Felix and his uncouth husband.

Several Feloran courtiers called out to Felix across the table, their voices dripping with honeyed concern. "Dear prince, Felora's gardens have wilted without your presence," one lady crooned. Others peppered him with questions about Levanter's perpetual haze and the castle's forbidding architecture, their words carefully polite but eyes calculating beneath arched brows.

A silver-haired man at the head of one of the tables cleared his throat, the sound slicing through the hall. His gaze locked onto Felix with the precision of an archer.

"Young Felix," he said, "please tell me you haven't forgotten everything you have been taught already? What on earth would Her Majesty say?"

Felix's body betrayed him before his mind could intervene—elbows yanking from the table, spine snapping straight, chin lifting. The muscle memory of court discipline burned through him like lightning.

"I must know," the man continued, his voice softening to something worse than shouting—the disappointed tone that Felix knew from childhood, "why you've elected to wear such rags to dine with us and not even bother styling your hair appropriately." His eyes flicked to Felix's loose Levanter-made tunic, dissecting every thread. "I understand you had your first taste of battle recently, and hopefully your last, but certainly you suffered no injuries grave enough that would prevent you from putting forth more effort in dressing properly for meals with esteemed guests of your home kingdom?"

The room constricted around Felix. Every eye bored into him, every breath held in anticipation. His throat closed as if gripped by an invisible hand.

"I-I didn't know we were having guests," Felix managed, the words scraping past his lips, tasting of humiliation and defeat.

"Oh, heavens, Your Highness," a lady with an intricately embroidered shawl dripping from her skeletal shoulders leaned forward, her voice dripping with false concern that sliced through the air like a poisoned dagger. "It's only natural to find comfort in gluttony when faced with the stress of such a massive life change. You don't have to make excuses! We understand!" Her smile stretched thin across her face. "Any competent royal tailor should be able to accommodate your... transformation."

Felix's breath seized, his windpipe crushed by phantom fingers that tightened with each heartbeat. Molten humiliation flooded his system, scorching through arteries and pooling like acid in his gut. He blinked—once, twice, desperately—as his vision blurred with unshed tears that threatened to betray him before the entire court. His gaze dropped to his empty plate, where his own reflection stared back, a distorted mirror. He searched for the physical manifestation of his inadequacy that they all seemed to see so clearly.

"He had no time to prepare," Minho spoke up through a mouthful of half-chewed meat, blood-red juices dripping down his chin. The nobles recoiled in horror, but the king's eyes blazed with challenge as he tore another chunk from the bone. "I wasn't even made aware we’d be entertaining guests tonight until about an hour ago," he added.

"The messenger swears on his life he delivered word this morning!" A noble at the table's end countered, his voice rising in indignation. The man seemed desperate not to lose face, nose twitching as he sought support from surrounding allies.

Minho's shoulders lifted in a dismissive gesture. "We were in the city. When we returned, I took a nap," he said, voice flat with finality. He tore into another hunk of meat, the juices glistening on his lips as he chewed with deliberate slowness.

"You... slept?!" The word exploded from a lady’s mouth, her jade rings clacking against her goblet as she slammed it down.

"In the middle of the evening?!" A lord’s voice cracked with indignation, his silver eyebrows shooting toward his hairline.

"What about your duties?!" hissed another, spittle flying across polished silverware.

The nobles erupted like a disturbed hornets' nest, faces contorting with theatrical horror, faces flushing with indignation, while Minho continued chewing, utterly unmoved.

Felix's gaze darted to Hyunjin, whose jaw was locked into a rigid line, knuckles whitened around his knife, veins bulging beneath sun-bronzed skin, and eyes narrowed to murderous slits. Felix feared Hyunjin was mere seconds away from unleashing a hell that could shatter their fragile alliance.

Felix's hand shot to Hyunjin's knee before his mind could catch up to the motion—a warning grip that betrayed his own rising panic. He expected rejection, even anger, but Hyunjin's palm settled over his fingers instead, thumb tracing soothing circles that sent contradictory shivers up Felix's arm. The unexpected tenderness made his pulse stutter traitorously even as his mind screamed to pull away. Hyunjin's eyes never left the nobles, but his touch claimed Felix in a way that both comforted and suffocated. Felix's chest tightened with the maddening urge to lean into the sanctuary.

Minho's lips curled into a half-smile, eyes glittering with barely concealed amusement at the Feloran nobles' collective horror. "I'm a tired man," he declared, words muffled around a chunk of glistening meat. His shoulders remained relaxed beneath his formal attire, not a single muscle tensing under their scandalized stares.

Hyunjin leaned forward with deliberate slowness, the wood of the table creaking slightly as he placed one muscular forearm upon its edge.

"Our king has a lot of duties," he drawled, voice dropping to a silken growl that carried to every corner of the suddenly silent hall, "including fighting in the vanguard and meeting at odd hours with merchants and farmers alike to ensure the lives of those under his jurisdiction remain secure." His eyes narrowed. "And he actually does it himself, you know, instead of sending a bunch of perfumed lackeys to do it for him while he sits on his ass behind gilded walls."

Felix's fingers dug into the hard muscle of Hyunjin's thigh beneath the table, nails leaving crescent indentations through the fabric. His ears burned hot with mortification, eyes wide with warning as he shot his husband a look of mingled outrage and disbelief—a silent, desperate reminder that Hyunjin was insulting Felix's own flesh and blood, the very monarchs who had raised him.

“If I may,” a middle-aged noble hissed, slamming his spoon down with such force that wine trembled in nearby goblets. His eyes burned like twin coals as he leaned forward, veins pulsing at his temples. “Is asking the most trusted nobility of a kingdom to see to a task in a ruler’s place worse than your ruler forcing your hand in marriage to secure an alliance that you yourself do not seek? We are not fools, Commander. Everyone in the realm is aware of your… dislike for Felora and all within it. So if you are insinuating that we are used as pawns, you must recognize the hypocrisy of serving a king who traded your flesh for favor," the man sneered, his gaze fixed on Hyunjin, his posture radiating the confidence of a man who had weathered far worse storms than a commander's sharp tongue.

Felix registered the firm grip Minho had suddenly clamped onto Hyunjin's other knee beneath the table, fingertips digging into the taut muscle with enough force to dimple the fine fabric of his pants. The silent command was unmistakable. Felix could almost see the inferno raging behind Hyunjin's eyes, a wildfire desperate to consume everything in its path, but Minho's grip tightened until the tendons in his wrist stood out like cords, and gradually, like a stallion yielding to a master's touch, Hyunjin eased back into his high-backed chair. Though subdued, he continued to sweep the table with a gaze that could have melted steel, nostrils flaring slightly with each measured breath.

"Forgive my commander," Minho's voice flowed like honey poured over ice, smooth yet chilling. "He is very protective of his king, as any commander should be." His lips curved into a practiced smile that transformed his face into a masterpiece of diplomatic artifice. "I recognize that it is an honor to be chosen for such duties, which is why I selected him for such a task. And I'm sure it's why your king and queen sent you here today—because they hold you in high regard and trust you implicitly."

As Minho addressed each noble in turn with calculated nods and carefully measured eye contact, Felix couldn't help but notice how the king's smile never softened the calculating frost in his eyes. Those eyes remained vigilant and assessing, like a predator cataloging weaknesses while appearing at ease. Felix realized that Minho likely harbored the same contempt for these perfumed Feloran nobles as Hyunjin did, but unlike his brother's blazing fury, Minho's disdain was well-masked and more patient.

Several faces softened after hearing that. Though some remained rigid and skeptical, no one outwardly voiced their skepticism.

"So let us eat and enjoy ourselves so the lovely cooks haven't prepared these exquisite meals for nothing," Minho added, raising his goblet with a flourish.

The tension in the room dissolved like sugar in hot tea, replaced by the gentle symphony of silver against porcelain and the murmur of diplomatic pleasantries. The king carved into a glistening cut of herb-crusted venison while nobles dabbed the corners of their mouths with embroidered handkerchiefs, their smiles not quite reaching their eyes. Conversation flowed between Minho and the guests like watered wine—palatable but lacking the intoxicating warmth of genuine camaraderie—as staff glided between tables and chairs, refilling glasses and replacing empty platters with steaming new offerings.

Felix arranged a modest selection on his plate—a small portion of roasted pheasant and a few glazed carrots—but his fork only traced aimless patterns through the food, never quite making it to his mouth. The noble's earlier barb about his figure echoed in his ears like a persistent mosquito. He smoothed the fabric of his rough tunic over his stomach with trembling fingers, at least grateful for its bulkier cut. The threadbare linen was coarse but forgiving.

A cold knot formed in his stomach as his mother's obsession with appearances clawed at the edges of his mind. Had she truly dispatched these folks across the realm just to publicly shame him into submission? The thought made his hands tremble beneath the table. No—surely even she wouldn't go that far. This had to be a genuine wellness check; it had to be, or else the humiliation might actually kill him.

He forced down three small bites of meat before giving up, his throat constricting as if rejecting the very act of nourishment. Every glance from across the table pierced him like arrows, their judgment flaying him alive until he could almost feel his skin peeling back from his bones, exposing every imperfection they surely whispered about behind curled lips.

A server poured wine into his glass—barely a third full—and Felix's fingers twitched toward it like a drowning man reaching for air. The crimson liquid promised sweet oblivion from the suffocating judgment pressing in from all sides. Just as his fingertips brushed the cool stem, a venomous whisper sliced through the air—a whisper that the queen will be devastated to learn how Levanter has corrupted her son into substance dependency— so Felix's hand jerked back as if burned, heart hammering against his ribs. 

The walls of the hall seemed to close in around him, each noble's gaze a physical weight pressing against his skin until he could barely breathe. His lungs burned.d. He lived twenty-four years in Felora, and never had he felt so utterly foreign among his people, like a creature pinned and splayed for examination. He glanced frantically toward the door—salvation just steps away—but his legs had turned to stone beneath him, pride and terror warring in his chest as he forced himself to remain seated while his pulse thundered in his ears.

Felix glanced at his husband to find Hyunjin impaling a piece of meat with enough force to scrape the plate beneath. The commander's eyes burned with barely contained rage, fixed on some invisible target across the room—until they snapped to Felix's. In that instant, the inferno in Hyunjin's gaze wavered, his brows drawing together in a flash of concern that cut through his fury.

Felix's lips stretched into a rictus of a smile, muscles straining with the effort of appearing unaffected. His eyes, too bright and too wide, locked with Hyunjin's in silent desperation.

Hyunjin's gaze dropped to Felix's plate—the food arranged in precise, untouched geometries—and his brow furrowed. "Do you want something else?" His voice was strangely soft.

"No," Felix answered, the word strangled in his throat as he shook his head. "I'm not hungry."

Hyunjin did not appear convinced as he continued to eye Felix critically, his dark gaze lingering like a shadow across Felix's face, tracking every microexpression. After a long moment, Hyunjin's attention shifted to his own plate, where he speared a glistening morsel of venison and brought it to his mouth with deliberate slowness. His jaw worked mechanically, as though his mind were elsewhere.

Felix felt relief wash over him, but far too soon, because without warning, Hyunjin pivoted toward him, the wooden chair creaking beneath the sudden movement. Before Felix could react, Hyunjin's calloused fingers found the sensitive skin at the nape of his neck, thumb pressing against the tender hollow behind his ear. The grip was firm yet careful—possessive without being painful—as Hyunjin pulled Felix forward into a kiss that scorched like wildfire, his lips demanding and insistent, tasting of wine and spices, reminiscent of their first impulsive embrace that very morning.

Felix's eyes fluttered shut as Hyunjin's mouth crashed against his. A muffled whine escaped him when he felt something unexpected—warm, tender venison sliding from Hyunjin's mouth into his own. The meat, slick with wine and the commander's saliva, hit the back of his throat. His gag reflex spasmed, throat constricting around the intrusion. Hyunjin pulled back just enough for their noses to brush, his breath hot against Felix's stunned lips.

"Swallow," Hyunjin whispered, the command velvet-soft yet unyielding.

Felix stared back, pulse hammering in his temples. His mind reeled like a drunkard on a ship's deck, unable to grasp what had just transpired. The meat sat heavy on his tongue—a morsel infused with herbs and the intimate taste of his husband's mouth. Heat crawled up his neck and bloomed across his cheeks in crimson patches as unbidden memories of the stifled moans from that morning's carriage ride flooded his consciousness.

Time seemed to crystallize around him. The clink of silverware against plates fell silent. The rustle of silk garments stilled. Hyunjin, meanwhile, reclined in his chair with casual grace, the corner of his mouth quirking upward as he resumed eating as though nothing extraordinary had occurred.

The venison released its rich juices as Felix's teeth finally sank into it. The meat yielded to pressure—tender, perfectly seasoned, somehow made more intoxicating by the knowledge it had passed from Hyunjin's mouth to his own. His traitorous body responded with a rush of saliva and a flutter low in his abdomen. He forced himself to chew and swallow, acutely aware of several nobles' eyes upon him. Heat radiated from his face down to his collar as he prayed to whatever gods might listen that none had discerned the true nature of their exchange—this crude, intimate feeding that left him both mortified and inexplicably hungry for more.

As the room recovered from the unexpected display, conversation resumed in ripples across the hall. Hyunjin methodically cut his venison into precise triangular pieces, each movement deliberate and controlled, though his eyes never left Felix. The weight of that dark gaze burned through Felix's skin like hot coals pressed against parchment.

"There's more where that came from," Hyunjin declared, his jaw working the meat with slow purpose. A droplet of crimson sauce clung to the corner of his mouth before his tongue swept it away with calculated precision.

The words hung between them—not quite a battlefield threat, yet carrying the same electric tension of drawn steel. Not entirely sexual, yet intimate in a way that made Felix's collar feel suddenly too tight against his flushed neck.

"Eat," Hyunjin commanded, voice dropping to a velvet-soft threat that somehow carried more force than a shout. He speared another glistening morsel, twirling it through a pool of mahogany sauce until it dripped with rich, fragrant juices. His eyes tracked Felix's every microexpression, pupils dilating slightly as he anticipated resistance.

Felix released a strained chuckle that sounded hollow even to his own ears. His fingers fidgeted with the edge of his napkin as conflicting emotions quarreled within him. Heat bloomed across his cheeks at such primitive behavior displayed before Felora's elite, yet something primal coiled low in his belly at Hyunjin's unyielding dominance—the implicit suggestion that choice had been removed from the equation entirely. The realization that this thrilled rather than repulsed him was perhaps most unsettling of all.

"You've eaten like a bird since you arrived in Levanter," Hyunjin observed with a frustrated exhale that stirred the steam rising from his plate. "I figured it was because you were afraid we’d poison you or perhaps you just didn’t like our food, but now I see growing up amongst these elitist, preening idiots probably stunted your appetite.”

Felix blinked, startled by the vehemence in Hyunjin's voice.

"You look fine— shit, you’re fucking perfect. Most people would kill to look like you," Hyunjin added, his voice casual yet tinged with unmistakable sincerity. His dark eyes traveled deliberately from Felix's shoulders down to his slender waist, lingering just long enough to make Felix's skin prickle with awareness before meeting his gaze again. "So eat your damn food and ignore what these stuffy old fuckers think." His calloused thumb brushed against Felix's wrist as he spoke, the brief contact leaving a trail of warmth that contradicted the harshness of his words.

It occurred to Felix that beneath the commander's rough exterior—the rigid posture, the perpetual scowl etched into his features—Hyunjin might actually be going out of his way to reassure, comfort, and defend him, though his methods were unconventional. Perhaps there was some care there, hidden like a vein of precious metal within stone.

Felix's fingers trembled as he surrendered, spearing a glistening morsel of venison and sliding it between his lips. The rich flavor flooded his mouth, awakening a hunger he'd been denying. Hyunjin's eyes darkened, tracking the movement of Felix's throat as he swallowed.

The commander seized his goblet, draining half its contents before leaning in so close his lips brushed the shell of Felix's ear, sending electricity down his spine.

"Good boy," Hyunjin growled, the words vibrating against Felix's skin like the warning rumble of a predator. He retreated with deliberate slowness, pupils blown wide as he lifted his wine again, never breaking eye contact as he drank.

Those words struck Felix like a physical blow, leaving him breathless and burning. His jaw clenched against the urge to snarl at being spoken to like a trained hound, but his body betrayed him—stomach clenching violently, heat surging between his legs with such sudden intensity he had to suppress a gasp. The commander's praise crawled beneath his skin, igniting something primal and desperate that Felix had never felt before. He wanted to claw at his own flesh to extinguish it, yet simultaneously craved more with a hunger that terrified him. His pulse hammered in his throat as he fought to maintain composure, the war between his pride and this new, ravenous need threatening to tear him apart from within.

Heat coursed through Felix's veins as he devoured each bite. The contradiction clawed at his insides—how could the same man who'd spat vitriol at him not long ago now ignite this violent, desperate hunger within him? Hyunjin's transformation from homicidal asswipe to possessive supporter, in mere days, left Felix dizzy with confusion and raw want. But Felix recognized the same feral beast who'd once held a blade to his throat—still dangerous, still untamed, but now possessing him rather than hunting him. The shift made Felix's body sing with a terrifying thrill he couldn't name.

He bit down hard on his lower lip as he fought to regain control. Determined not to surrender completely, Felix forced his features into a sneer, though his flushed skin told a different story entirely.

"You’re disgusting," Felix finally spoke. His freckled nose scrunched up like a rabbit's, eyes crinkling at the corners as he failed to maintain his mock disgust. The teasing lilt in his voice betrayed the genuine relief washing through him, a warm current beneath the surface. His shoulders, which had been tight with tension moments before, relaxed ever so slightly under the weight of Hyunjin's reassurance.

"You didn't spit it out, though," Hyunjin replied, one corner of his mouth curling upward into a self-satisfied smirk. His eyes gleamed with triumph.

Felix's body waged war between revulsion and pride. To have spit it out would mean surrender to more public humiliation before the watchful eyes of Felora's elite. He swallowed hard, shame and desire warring within him as his eyes locked with Hyunjin's. If Hyunjin wanted to play with fire, Felix would make sure they both burned. Two could play at this game.

Felix's lips curled into a delicate smirk, the corners of his mouth barely lifting as he spoke just loud enough for his words to travel the short distance between them without carrying to neighboring ears, but his eyes remained fixed on his plate.

"I guess my impulsiveness this morning led me to the discovery that I quite enjoy having meat in my mouth,” Felix commented, his voice honey-sweet with feigned innocence. The words slid from his tongue like silk even as his fingers tightened imperceptibly around his silverware.

Only Hyunjin's eyes snapped toward him, slightly wider than usual, but his head remained unmoving. For a fraction of a second, his composure cracked completely—revealing genuine shock at such a filthy suggestion spilling from those tantalizing, plush lips, especially here among Felora's pearl-clutching aristocracy who sipped their wine obliviously just feet away.

"I would have swallowed then as well if given the chance," Felix added smugly, glancing up through golden lashes. His eyes caught Hyunjin's for just a heartbeat, the tip of his pink tongue darting out, tracing the plump curve of his bottom lip with deliberate slowness before retreating. He returned to cutting his venison, the hint of a satisfied smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he felt Hyunjin's gaze burning into him.

The commander silently wrestled with the maddening uncertainty of whether Felix's filthy promise was genuine or merely a calculated move in their dangerous game.

Felix took pleasure in hearing him clear his throat awkwardly.

Hyunjin shifted uncomfortably in his chair, the wooden legs scraping against stone as he adjusted his posture, uncrossing and recrossing his legs with deliberate casualness that didn’t fool the elf.

Felix's gaze flicked downward for just a moment, noting how the commander's form-fitting leather pants now seemed to constrain him in ways that had nothing to do with fashion. The fabric pulled taut across his thighs as he repositioned himself yet again, a muscle in his jaw twitching with the effort of maintaining composure. Felix bit back a smile, savoring the commander's discomfort like the last sip of fine wine. He hoped the man was suffering exquisitely.

Chapter Text

Felix resumed eating silently as he stole glances at the Feloran nobles around him. These were his people—the very escape route he'd fantasized about on his wedding night, tear-stained and terrified. Now, surrounded by familiar faces from his homeland, he remained rooted beside Hyunjin. The same commander who experienced inhumanly violent episodes driven by some unknown force and had nearly ended his life. Yet Felix found himself leaning imperceptibly closer to Hyunjin's warmth rather than fleeing toward safety. His body's betrayal confused him; how could he feel more secure beside this unpredictable being than among those he'd known since childhood? Felix swallowed hard and pushed the troubling thought away. After dinner, surely his senses would return. 

Hyunjin's hand moved with casual authority throughout dinner, depositing choice morsels onto Felix's plate whenever it grew too empty. 

Each time, Felix's lips would part in protest before pressing together in resignation. His pride demanded resistance, but his growling stomach betrayed him with each savory bite. The warmth spreading through his limbs as he ate was almost worth the silent surrender.

The heavy door's hinges groaned halfway through the meal, drawing every eye in the room. Felix's heart leapt at the sight of Jisung leaning heavily against Jeongin's shoulder, his friend's face tight with the effort of each step. Felix's fingers twitched with the urge to rush to him, knowing how those stone stairs must have tortured his healing body.

Jeongin's shoulders hunched inward as he entered the hall, his gaze fixed on the stone floor while noble eyes tracked his every movement. Beside him, Jisung stiffened upon spotting the Feloran delegation, then quickly masked his surprise with a diplomatic smile, wincing as he attempted a bow that his battered body couldn't fully execute.

Jisung's face still bore a canvas of yellowing bruises, exposed without the mercy of concealer, and Felix's stomach knotted as hushed voices slithered through the sudden silence like snakes through dry grass.

Felix stabbed at a piece of food, pretending to be absorbed in his meal while his pulse quickened beneath his skin. His gaze darted between Jisung and the Feloran nobles, whose lips curled with barely concealed disdain. Despite Felix's royal decree placing Jisung in his court, these aristocrats had never seen his friend as anything but a stain on their pristine society. 

Yet there stood Minho—King of Levanter—rising from his seat with such urgency that his chair scraped loudly against stone, moving toward Jisung with the reverence of a man approaching an altar rather than a bastard.

Heads turned briefly among the nobility, their eyes flicking toward the interaction before they dismissively returned to their meals and conversations, the momentary disruption deemed unworthy of sustained attention.

"Hannie," Minho breathed, the single word carrying more tenderness than a sonnet as he reached the man. He took Jisung from Jeongin with the delicate precision of someone handling priceless crystal, one arm sliding around the man's waist.

"Sorry, I got hungry," Jisung whispered. A shy, crooked grin transformed his bruise-mottled face, his eyes crinkling at the corners and lighting up like sunrise breaking through storm clouds when they met his lover's gaze of adoration.

They had barely crossed the polished stone floor when Jisung's fingers fluttered against the fabric of Minho's formal jacket. "I'm good here," he said, gesturing toward the bare floor beside them.

Minho's brow furrowed, lips parting in protest, but Jisung silenced him with a look sharp enough to cut glass. "Just let me go and don't cause a scene," he murmured, voice low but clear enough to reach Minho's ears alone. Something timeworn and painful flickered behind Jisung's eyes that perked Minho's curiosity, but with visible reluctance etched in every line of his regal posture, he helped lower Jisung to sit cross-legged on the cold stone at the back of the room, his own body rigid with barely contained opposition.

Without waiting for Jisung's explanation, Minho strode purposefully toward the main table. His hands moved with efficiency, selecting choice cuts of the finest meats, roasted vegetables glistening with herb-infused oils, and warm bread still steaming from the oven. The silver serving tray grew heavy in his grip as he piled it high, ignoring the scandalized whispers that rippled through the gathering like wind. The king's jaw remained set in a hard line, his eyes focused solely on his task as if feeding Jisung were a matter of state importance. He paused only when he stood in front of Felix and Hyunjin's table. 

Felix's slender fingers pushed food around his plate without purpose. Across from him, Hyunjin's dark eyes tracked Jisung's every movement, studying the way the injured man settled himself on the floor with practiced resignation.

"Would you care to explain why he insists on eating on the floor?" Minho demanded, his voice cutting through the ambient chatter. The fine lines between his brows deepened with concern, his knuckles whitening where they gripped the laden tray.

Felix's eyes darted to Hyunjin's face—seeking what, he couldn't articulate even to himself. A flicker of reassurance? Emotional support? Permission?

The commander's expression remained unreadable, so Felix swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry as parchment, before meeting the king's piercing gaze. The weight of potential conflict hung in the air between them, thick and suffocating, but Felix squared his shoulders and answered with quiet honesty.

"Because he's a bastard," Felix replied, his frown deepening as he struggled to conceal the sudden twist in his gut. 

How many meals had Jisung taken from the floor in Felora when they weren't dining privately in Felix's chambers? Countless. Yet only now did the wrongness of it strike him with such force— a cruel ritual of degradation that he had accepted without protest all his life. The realization that he had watched his best friend endure this humiliation since childhood— had accepted it as the natural order— left him cold. He had never questioned what had always been, had he? The world had told him this was proper, and he had believed it.

"We established that," Minho replied, tilting his head slightly. His eyes tracked Jisung, sitting awkwardly on the cold stone ground, his fingers fidgeting with the frayed edge of his sleeve. "So?"

Felix swept his hand in a subtle arc toward the Feloran nobles, their voices a constant hum above the clink of utensils and the gentle slosh of wine being poured.

"In our culture, bastards aren’t permitted to share certain spaces, such as tables, with the legitimate," Felix said, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "He means no insult to you, Your Majesty. He merely wishes not to offend the present Feloran delegation." His voice softened to a near-whisper, the explanation brittle under the weight of his own discomfort.

Minho’s immediate scoff cracked through the hall, drawing heads, though it was Hyunjin’s sudden stillness that made Felix’s breath falter. The commander’s shoulders tensed, as if anticipating the king’s temper would flare into something more dangerous.

But no tirade came. Instead, Minho turned away with a purposeful stride, the tray still balanced in his grip, and crossed the room without hesitation and lowered himself onto the stone floor beside Jisung, the movement as natural as if it had been his throne. With one hand, he steadied Jisung’s back, the other offering a chopstick of meat to his mouth with tender care.

Jisung released a flustered laugh, swatting at the utensil. “I’m not helpless,” he teased, stealing the chopsticks for himself and triumphantly grabbing a slice of roasted meat with them. 

Minho’s lips curved into a wounded pout, his narrowed eyes glittering with mock offense even as his hand remained a steady anchor against Jisung’s spine.

Their quiet back-and-forth wove its own rhythm, a fragile thread of warmth in the vast, watching hall. 

Hyunjin leaned back in his chair and resumed eating, his expression remaining unreadable. 

Felix, though, could not look away. His chest tightened as he watched the two men’s easy familiarity, the tenderness folded seamlessly into their bantering as Minho continuously tried to feed Jisung by his own hand. 

Felix stared, transfixed by the sight before him—a crowned king willingly seated on cold stone, fingers intertwined with a bastard's, defying centuries of Feloran decorum with each casual touch. Something twisted in his chest—admiration, perhaps, or envy—at Minho's brazen disregard for the whispers circling them like vultures. Hyunjin's dire predictions about their mother's wrath and the inevitable collapse of this forbidden romance seemed hollow now. The tender way Minho's thumb traced circles on Jisung's wrist spoke of permanence, of roots growing too deep for even the Queen Mother's influence to tear apart. Whatever hold she maintained over Hyunjin, perhaps it hadn't ensnared Minho in the same manner.

A smile ghosted across his lips—quickly gone when the rising murmur of noble disapproval reached his ears, dragging him back to the reality of Feloran eyes upon them.

"Oh my," gasped a woman with pearl-studded hair, her gloved fingers fluttering to her throat.

"This is appalling," declared a lady in emerald silk, her ivory fan snapping open with a sound like breaking bone. Her eyes widened beneath painted brows as she worked the fan vigorously, rings catching the warm light with each flick of her wrist. Her companion nodded so vigorously that the jade teardrops dangling from her ears swung like pendulums.

A woman with a high collar of Feloran lace that seemed to strangle her thin neck scoffed, nostrils flaring. "I advised Her Majesty against allowing that leech to accompany the prince here," she hissed to her nearby circle.

"Is that the Han boy? The half-wit bastard?" muttered a man with a military posture, his signet ring tapping against his goblet as he shook his head, jowls quivering with shame.

"Oh, I hardly recognized him beneath those contusions. Lovers' quarrel perhaps?" Another man chuckled, his belly straining against gold-threaded buttons as he tilted his head back to drain his wine.

"One can only hope," remarked an elderly nobleman with skin like crumpled parchment. "It's due time someone put him in his place."

“…imbecile…”

“…delinquent…”

“…whore…”

“…just like his mother…”

“…abomination…”

“…imitator…”

“…slow…”

Felix’s stomach churned. He had always heard it—the muttered slurs—but he had often let it pass with only a twinge of irritation which was quickly smothered. Such ugly sounds, swiftly ignored. Jisung never faltered beneath it, and so Felix convinced himself it mattered less than it did. He let the habit take root until their cruelty became background noise.

But here in Levanter, where Jisung was cherished— where his laughter was answered with warmth instead of mockery— those same words seemed sharpened, cutting deeper for every time Felix had dismissed them. Each insult struck at Felix himself, for hadn’t he been the same? He’d stood by, lips often sealed, letting the venom seep unchecked. He could hear his own silence echoing alongside their jeers, damning him. 

A sickness clawed up his throat. He wanted to stand, berate, and banish every Feloran present—but what right did he have? He had been no better. Perhaps worse, because Jisung had trusted him, leaned on him, and still Felix had looked away. How many times had he betrayed him with that cowardice? How many times had Jisung borne the weight alone while Felix pretended it wasn’t there?

Felix struggled to comprehend it—how Jisung could remain so steady, so unfaltering, when such poison was spat at him without end. He should have been broken, sobbing into Felix’s arms, should have spent his youth begging to be taken away from such an elitist kingdom. That would have made sense. That, Felix could have understood. But instead, Jisung stood tall, unyielding, his smile undimmed, his spirit a beacon that refused to be smothered. He was a pillar, a constant, and Felix leaned on that strength more than he cared to admit. How could he stand tall, unbowed, when Felix felt like breaking apart just by witnessing it in a new light? Felix wanted to sink to the floor, clutch at Jisung’s hand, and beg forgiveness.

He loathed himself, loathed these people— his people— and loathed anyone who thought Jisung’s name fit to be dragged through filth. 

And still, the desire burned within him: to stand, to shout, to tell them all that they were wrong—that Jisung was brilliant, the best, and that his heart was purer than theirs could ever hope to be.

But his voice failed him. His entire being trembled with a rage unlike any he’d felt before, shame, grief, and a love for his lifelong companion too fierce for words.

The sound came first—a sharp breaking of glass that startled even him. He blinked down, realizing too late that his wine glass had shattered in his grip. He hadn’t even felt it break, only the sting of glass biting deep, the hot rush of pain as scarlet welled up and spilled across his hand. Droplets splattered against the table in uneven beats, messy, insistent.

Gasps rippled around the table, nobles half-rising in alarm, their murmurs sharp with confusion and distaste. A few even flinched back as if Felix’s blood might leap across the tables and stain their silks.

Disbelief, grief, fury—they surged all at once, violent and unrestrained, each jostling to break the surface. He sat frozen, paralyzed by the realization of just how close he was to snapping, how thin the veneer of calm had become.

“Forgive me,” he spoke blankly, the words leaving him before he could think to form them. His fingers trembled as he pried them open, shards slipping free and clattering onto the table. His breath hitched, shallow, caught between horror at his own carelessness and the rage still burning in his chest.

“Mind your own fucking business,” Hyunjin snarled, standing abruptly, his voice cutting through their chatter like a blade. He reached across the table’s space, scowling as he seized a fine, embroidered handkerchief straight from the front pocket of a wide-eyed lord.

The man let out a sputter of protest, but Hyunjin ignored him, sinking back into his chair with a deliberate thud, the stolen handkerchief clenched tight in his fist. His scowl still lingered, daring any of the nobles to open their mouths again, but his expression softened the instant his eyes fell on Felix.

“Let me see,” he said, quieter now but no less commanding.

Felix obeyed without thought, dazed, watching as Hyunjin took his bloodied hand in both of his. The warrior’s grip may have been unyielding on a sword hilt, but it was startlingly careful here. He unfolded Felix’s fingers with patience, turning his palm to catch the light, examining the shards glinting in the torn flesh.

Felix expected a question, a sharp remark, some demand for an explanation, but none came. Hyunjin’s silence was steady and deliberate. He simply cradled Felix’s palm and began blotting at the blood with unhurried precision. The cloth moved in slow, methodical circles, soaking red as he worked around the embedded shards.

The nobles’ murmurs faded into nothing. For Felix, there was only Hyunjin—his calloused thumb brushing gently over the edge of Felix’s hand as though to reassure him, the cloth gently pressed against his fresh wound. Hyunjin’s brow furrowed with concentration, but his touch was tender, reverent even, as though Felix’s hand were something fragile entrusted solely to him, but he never looked up, never pressed for words Felix didn’t have to give.

And Felix, dazed and trembling, found himself grateful that Hyunjin tended to him without commentary, without pity, and without teasing—just quiet, careful presence. Just hands steadying his own when he felt anything but steady.

Felix couldn’t exactly understand why it steadied him or why the storm within him had been made in some way more bearable under that quiet care. All he knew was that, for these long seconds, the room had narrowed to one presence, one anchor, and that his chest ached with a strange, unfamiliar tightness he couldn’t name.

"Hold still and breathe. There’s a shard stuck," Hyunjin said, his voice gentle as his fingers wrapped around Felix's wrist. 

Felix gave a small nod, drawing strength from the warm pressure against his skin. He sucked in a breath, his body tensing as Hyunjin carefully extracted the fragment. A hiss escaped through his teeth, but the physical pain was fleeting—nothing like the hollow ache spreading beneath his ribs, a wound that couldn’t be easily dislodged.

Hyunjin's dark eyes snapped up, his dark eyelashes framing his piercing eyes. 

"You okay?" The words came out gentle but with an edge that demanded truth. 

Felix's vision swam as their gazes locked, but it wasn't the blood making the room spin. It was the hurricane inside him, a violent storm of emotions threatening to tear through his chest, rip past his ribs, and explode into the open air. 

"Yongbokie," Hyunjin said, his voice laced with concern. 

Felix's normally bright eyes were glassy and distant.

Hyunjin leaned in and placed his long fingers on Felix's upper thigh. His palm traveled up and down firmly, pressing with quiet insistence.

The touch seemed to pull Felix back to reality, his pupils contracting before focusing again, and a visible tremor ran through his body, starting at the point of contact and rippling upward like a current. Felix blinked several times, focusing his gaze back to his husband's face. 

Hyunjin's frown remained, but he said nothing as his fingers worked the handkerchief around Felix's palm. Each fold and tuck spoke of battlefield experience. He secured the wound with ann efficient knot that would hold firm no matter how Felix moved his hand.

"It doesn't seem too bad, but you should get Jeongin to take a look at it," Hyunjin stated, his voice steady and clinical but also soft, displaying the delicate layer beneath the mask Felix had already seen behind.

Felix, still unable to form sentences, stared dumbfounded into nothing as his mind drifted off again to replay every horrid comment ever spat at Jisung back in Felora. He had heard them all—slurs tossed like casual truths, ridicule thinly veiled as jest—and he had often laughed them off with Jisung, or ignored them entirely, as though indifference could shield them, but now those memories returned like knives, cutting deeper with every recollection. He regretted every time he hadn’t turned, hadn’t demanded silence, hadn’t defended the boy who deserved nothing but kindness and respect.

Worst of all, at times, his own voice was among them. He had been a child when such things were uttered, yes, innocent in his intent, but that did not erase the sting of the words he had once spoken, like calling Jisung his ‘pet’ or guessing in jest at which faceless commoner might be his father. They may have been foolish words that were spoken without malice, but careless all the same, and careless words cut just as deep.

He couldn’t live with himself knowing how careless he had been with Jisung growing up, believing every word spoken was not to be argued because he never knew anything different, but that was no excuse. Jisung deserved better. Jisung always deserved better than what his kingdom allowed him to have.

Jisung deserved exactly what he had in this very moment— a king at his side, not hiding his affection but showing it openly, boldly. A lover who sat in solidarity with him, shared food with him as though it were the most natural thing in the world, and leaned close enough that their arms brushed in innocent contact while their eyes betrayed something far more intimate than any outsider should be permitted to see. Every small gesture, every doting glance, every playful nudge, and every smile spoke of devotion. Their courtship might still be young, but the passion was undeniable, and Felix, watching from the edges, could almost allow himself to name it for what it was. 

Love.

Perhaps even the kind spoken of in stories. 

Soulmates. 

The thought made his heart swell until it hurt.

If there had ever lingered the faintest ember of hope that he might one day leave Levanter and return to the familiarity of Felora, it was extinguished here and now, snuffed out violently by the sound of Jisung’s laughter. That hearty, unrestrained laugh rang across the space, so full and free that it felt like sacrilege to even imagine taking it from him. No matter what else awaited—no matter if Hyunjin’s dark spells grew worse and Felix had to fight tooth and nail each day just to draw breath—he would endure it. Gladly. Because Jisung was happy. He was so happy.

Felix felt he owed him that much. He owed him everything.

Just then, Felix caught the flicker of movement at the edge of his vision—a man scowling at Jisung’s laughter, leaning to mutter something disapproving into the ear of the lady beside him. Heat surged through Felix’s veins, his blood roaring, his jaw locking tight enough to ache.

No. Not now. Not here. Not in Jisung's sanctuary. Never again. They would not taint these halls with their poison. Not while Felix still drew breath.

Felix pushed up from his seat suddenly. Every ounce of inhibition dissolved as his body moved on instinct. He strode past the offending noble without hesitation and spat directly into the man’s plate, the wet splatter of it silencing the whispers at the table. Felix didn’t look back. His feet carried him straight to the center of the hall, where platters of dessert still sat untouched, waiting for courses to finish.

He reached out with his uninjured hand and scooped an entire slab of cake into his palm, crushing it as frosting oozed between his fingers. The nobles gasped, but Felix ignored them, carrying his prize across the room with purpose. He plopped to sit down beside Jisung, startling him enough that he jolted in surprise, and without a word sank his teeth into the cake with unrestrained hunger.

Jisung blinked at him, wide-eyed, more amused than anything, while Felix chewed with vigor. 

Fuck what they thought about his manners, his weight, his loyalty, or his friend. Let them choke on their own judgment. He would do as he pleased. And right now, what he pleased was eating cake next to his best friend.

It was messy, indecent, shameless, and Felix couldn’t remember the last time he felt so free.

Felix was acutely aware of the mortified stares from the royal nobility, yet he remained oblivious to one gaze in particular—that of Hyunjin, who struggled to suppress a burgeoning smile. Beneath the stern façade, a flicker of pride ignited, stirring with admiration, and deep within his chest, a far more profound and mighty force blazed with intensity. The audacity, the unwavering loyalty, and Felix's defiant spirit—it was utterly mesmerizing. Hyunjin found himself unexpectedly impressed and unwillingly proud. He had to concede that he was irrevocably ensnared by the elf. It was undeniable now.

The memory of Felix’s lips pressed against his own that very morning haunted him incessantly. The sensation would not fade. He could not disentangle his thoughts from the feeling of Felix’s skin beneath his touch, the taste lingering on his lips, the intoxicating scent, the lustrous hair, that radiant smile, and that infectious laughter. There was such a surreal quality about Felix, and Hyunjin wondered if perhaps this man had descended from celestial realms, masquerading as an elf. Surely, the being sitting on the floor before him, devouring cake in such an untamed manner, could not have originated from a lineage so steeped in malevolence.

Felix extended the remainder of his sweet treat towards Jisung, a genuine smile lighting up his face as he offered it from his palm. Jisung, in response, shared a playful grimace and a light chuckle at Felix’s appearance, their camaraderie palpable in the air.

Then, unexpectedly, Felix’s breath caught as a shadow fell across him. Hyunjin—the very man who once threatened life—stood next to him before settling beside him on the floor. Their eyes locked, and instead of the usual wariness, Felix felt something electric pass between them. The commander’s thigh pressed against his, burning through the fabric, and Felix’s skin erupted in goosebumps as Hyunjin leaned closer, his shoulder a solid weight against him. The room seemed to shrink around them, the stares of the high-status elves boring into them like daggers, but Hyunjin didn’t waver. If anything, he pressed closer, claiming this space beside Felix as if daring anyone to question it.

This wasn’t reluctant tolerance, forced proximity, or a heated frenzy driven by carnal desire. This was deliberate. Intentional. Public. Hyunjin was choosing him, here, before the eyes of many. Instead of feeling guarded, Felix was struck by a sense of ease in the presence of those intense eyes. It was a small gesture, yet it spoke volumes—a silent understanding passing between them.

Despite the uncertainties that lingered about Hyunjin and his world, this simple act warmed Felix’s heart. In a space where status was paramount, Hyunjin’s willingness to sit close on the cold stone floor, their legs touching comfortably, sent a thrill through Felix. The raw authenticity of the moment, amidst a backdrop of scrutiny, left his skin tingling with a rare and exhilarating awareness. 

Intoxicated by the rush of defiance against these oppressors and bolstered by Hyunjin's solidarity, Felix's freckled face lit up with a mischievous grin. He dangled the final morsel of cake mere inches from the commander's lips, one eyebrow arched in playful challenge, silently daring him to accept his offering.

Hyunjin's eyes widened momentarily before crinkling at the corners with undisguised amusement.

When the commander parted his full lips in anticipation, Felix erupted into a cascade of giggles, and, in one swift motion, he redirected the cake into his own waiting mouth, savoring the explosion of sugary sweetness on his tongue while delighting in Hyunjin's stunned expression.

The commander's surprise dissolved into a warm chuckle as he observed the creamy frosting smeared across Felix's rosebud lips and sun-kissed cheeks. Something tender unfurled in Hyunjin's chest as he beheld the elf's uninhibited joy, Felix's entire being radiating a happiness so pure it seemed to illuminate the very air around him.

“To be fair, the last time I fed you, you bit me,” Felix teased innocently while licking his fingers clean.

At Felix's words, a trio of ladies in pastel silk gowns swiveled toward him, their gloved hands frozen mid-air and pearl necklaces gleaming under the ballroom chandeliers. Their painted lips formed perfect O's of scandal. Heat crawled up Felix's neck like ivy, threatening to bloom across his freckled cheeks. For one traitorous moment, his shoulders curved inward, but then he remembered the cruel remarks that had followed Jisung across the floor just minutes ago, the whispers behind fans that cut like knives. His spine straightened, jaw setting like cement.

If these vultures wanted gossip for their elitist tea parties, he would serve it on a silver platter.

He leaned toward Hyunjin, batting his eyelashes with deliberate slowness. 

Hyunjin's dark eyes widened in recognition, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. He knew that look meant mischief was brewing.

“But if you really want a taste,” Felix purred, voice dropping to a ragged whisper that scraped against his throat, his gaze heavy with a menacing seduction before pressing his lips against the commander's.

The contact seared through him, electric and devastating. Internally, he reveled in triumph as Hyunjin responded not just willingly but with a fervor that bordered on desperate.

As Felix had foreseen, the chatter around them swelled exponentially, accompanied by sharp glares steeped in appallment and judgment, but Felix barely registered them through the roaring in his ears. He felt dangerously lightheaded, realizing all too late that this daring act of his wielded a double-edged sword. It stirred feelings within him that should not surface amidst such a crowd. The languid dance of Hyunjin’s tongue against his skin set his senses ablaze, an inferno that threatened to consume him whole. In this fleeting moment, Felix yearned with every fiber of his being to simply collapse upon the cold, unforgiving stone floor, allow his limbs to sprawl outwards, and implore Hyunjin to extend this torment across every inch of his form.

It came as no surprise when one woman shouted, clutching her chest. “This is obscene!” she cried, loud enough to echo across the hall.

And that was the final straw for Felix as his gaze hardened into a cold glare through nearly shut eyes as Hyunjin persisted in nibbling at his jawline tenderly.

“Aren’t you the nosey cunt who wanted to know if we were coupling without protective measures?” Felix asked, voice flat. The color drained from her face instantly. His lip curled faintly. “Stick around and you can see for yourself.”

The effect was immediate and almost comical. Chairs scraped, robes rustled, and the cluster of elves scrambled all at once, tripping over each other in their haste to flee. They shuffled toward the exit in a flurry of silks and panicked murmurs and gasps as if Felix had threatened their lives rather than teased them with the possibility of watching their former prince getting it on in public.

Relief washed over Felix as the last of the nobles disappeared, but he still craved Hyunjin's touch. He tilted his head back, inviting the commander to explore the column of his throat. The spell between them shattered at the sound of Minho loudly clearing his throat. Both men jerked apart, and beside Minho, Jisung erupted into laughter, his body folding with mirth despite his obvious pain as he gripped Minho's arm to keep from toppling over entirely.

“That went well,” Minho said, his voice dripping with irony as he cast an accusatory glance at Hyunjin. His eyes flickered briefly to Felix, whose cheeks were painted with a rosy tint of embarrassment, yet a fleeting smirk graced his lips, betraying his stoic facade.

His eyes lingered on the way his brother's fingers hovered near Felix's elbow—the same brother who typically vanished with lovers only to reappear disheveled and alone minutes later. The same brother who flinched from casual touches and rarely initiated contact beyond necessity. The same brother who eschewed lingering caresses and kisses. Yet here was Hyunjin, still seated close enough for their shoulders to brush, making no move to create distance after such a display. It was rare, almost mythical, to see his brother forge a connection that seemed to transcend the carnal simplicity of their world, and it sowed seeds of hope within Minho’s heart.

Felix adjusted the handkerchief wrapped around his hand, his movements fraught with an anxious grace. Hyunjin let out a soft snort, amusement flickering briefly across his features at Minho’s biting words.

"Please don't—" Jisung winced, clutching his ribs, "—make me laugh anymore." His plea dissolved into a stifled giggle that sent visible spasms of pain across his face. Minho pulled him closer, his arm coiled possessively around Jisung's shoulders, unable to withhold his own fond smile.

Heat crawled up Felix’s neck as the memory of his brazen display burned through him, the taste of Hyunjin still lingering on his lips, but he thought of those nobles with their pristine silks and venomous tongues, which made his blood simmer. He would sooner cut out his own tongue than offer them a single syllable of apology. Let them stare. Let them whisper. Let them.

"Ji," Felix's voice cracked, his hands trembling as they twisted the fabric of his sleeves. "Is there anything I can do for you?" The words tore from his throat like a confession, his eyes burning with unshed tears as the full weight of his lifelong ignorance crashed through him.

"What?" Jisung's gaze darted between the three men, his face hardening with suspicion as he straightened despite the pain that flashed across his features.

Felix's lungs constricted as he dragged in a ragged breath. This conversation would rip them both open, but the blood needed to flow if there was any hope of healing.

“Our entire lives, I let you be treated like you were… less than others simply because… it was our normal? And even I… I’ve said things I should have never even considered saying. You're my best friend! You’ve been there for me since our births, unwavering, and not once did I ever draw blood for your honor, and it's inexcusable, Ji. I—I never truly… acknowledged just how traumatizing it must have been, and honestly, that alone is also unforgivable because what an utterly terrible friend, I am.” His chest heaved as though each breath might be his last. “You have every right to resent me— hate me— but swear to you, I will remedy what I can. I will personally punish the next person who dares to disrespect you, I swear it. Please believe me when I say I promise to do everything to protect you going forward, and I—"

Felix's tirade choked off when Jisung lunged forward, seizing his face between calloused palms. Tears streamed unchecked down Felix's flushed cheeks as he gasped for air, drowning in the deep brown eyes before him.

"Lee Felix Yongbok," Jisung growled, his thumbs roughly wiping away Felix's tears. "Shut up. Right now." Jisung murmured, his forehead pressed against Felix's, eyes closed as if the contact alone could transfer his thoughts. "Listen to me. When we were children, who faked having nightmares with the only cure being having me within proximity so I could be allowed a bed in the palace? Who demanded I join your lessons until the tutor relented? Who covered for me relentlessly and dragged my drunk ass from taverns before dawn?" His thumbs brushed away Felix's tears. "And don’t say you never drew blood for me. You and I both know that’s not true. You’re just being hard on yourself. You never saw me as beneath you. Not once. Sure, we've fought and we've said stupid things before, but that's what family does. The only reason I'm sitting here now is because of you. So stop this guilt—your friendship isn't something you need to prove to me. It's in everything you've already done."

Felix's breath hitched as memories flooded him, drowning out the guilt with a torrent of fierce devotion. The night he'd stormed into that filthy tavern, face concealed beneath a hood, heart hammering against his ribs as he spotted Jisung—broken-hearted and dangerously drunk—grinding against strangers and bellowing bawdy ballads that could've gotten him killed. Felix had practically carried him through the castle corridors, one hand clamped over Jisung's mouth, both of them pressed against cold stone walls whenever guards passed, Felix's pulse thundering so loudly he was certain they'd be discovered. He'd forced water down Jisung's throat until dawn broke, refusing sleep, watching each breath his friend took like it might be the last. And the fury that had consumed him as a wee child when they'd tried to separate them during lessons. Felix had screamed himself hoarse, thrown inkwells, and refused food for days until the queen herself relented and permitted Jisung to be allowed schooling with Felix— the only way the bastard was provided an education. They had risked everything for each other, and no amount of royal protocol or societal boundaries had ever managed to sever that bond.

Felix braced Jisung's trembling shoulders as Minho's arms slipped beneath his back, lifting him with the gentleness one might show a wounded bird.

Jisung's nervous laughter scattered through the room like windblown petals as he protested, "I can walk!" even as his knee betrayed him with a visible quiver that nearly sent him tumbling back into Minho's chest.

Hyunjin unfolded his long frame in one seamless motion, rising to his full height. His dark eyes tracked Felix's movements as the elf's slender fingers drifted unconsciously to his injured hand. The once-immaculate handkerchief had soaked through with crimson.

"Come," Hyunjin commanded, his voice soft yet clear as a temple bell. "That needs to be properly cleaned."

Felix offered the king and Jisung a polite, formal bow, bidding them a courtly farewell, while his mind raced ahead with Hyunjin, who now glided from the room with the grace of a jungle cat. The commander's shoulders, broad, tapered to a narrow waist that swayed with hypnotic rhythm beneath his eclectic uniform.

Heat pooled in Felix's stomach as he followed, despising how his body responded to the very man he'd once sworn to loathe. Hyunjin's presence filled the corridor with an intoxicating aura of danger and satisfaction, like a warrior fresh from conquest. Felix's breath caught as he realized how completely his initial hatred had transformed into this maddening attraction.

The universe, Felix decided with bitter certainty, had crafted Hyunjin specifically to unravel his carefully ordered existence.

Chapter Text

Felix's hand throbbed with each heartbeat, but he insisted it was nothing. Still, Hyunjin didn’t care to hear any arguments as he practically dragged Felix through the corridors to Jeongin’s personal bedchambers. Along the way, Felix gave up the fight and relented, feeling a sense of relief in his senses at his own defiance against the Feloran nobles. While he had been emotional over facing what they’d done to Jisung and even himself in ways all his life, he was feeling rather giddy now and broke out into fits of giggles as Hyunjin pulled him along.

He didn’t miss how Hyunjin’s lips quirked up at his behavior and the laugh he tried desperately to suppress when shaking his head in disbelief.

Felix liked that smile. A lot.

Something washed over him—a reckless warmth that made his skin tingle and his chest flutter with an unfamiliar lightness. The adrenaline from his public display still coursed through his veins, making him feel invincible, untouchable.

And whether it was the lingering effects of the sweets he’d consumed or just his newfound boldness, Felix couldn't say, but he suddenly felt playful beyond reason. With every other step, Felix puckered his lips and began repeatedly blowing loud, ridiculous raspberries into the air directly at Hyunjin, the childish sound echoing off the stone walls.

Hyunjin didn’t acknowledge the first few, his jaw twitching as he maintained a stoic expression, but by the fifth raspberry—this one particularly wet and obnoxious—his composure cracked. A snort escaped him.

"You're fucking childish," Hyunjin muttered, but his voice held no heat. If anything, the fondness bleeding through made Felix's stomach do acrobatic flips.

In response, Felix began incoherently mimicking Hyunjin's higher voice exaggeratedly while still being tugged along by his wrist. "You're fucking childish," he repeated with a comically furrowed brow, puffing out his chest and standing on his toes in an absurd imitation.

Hyunjin tried to shoot him a reproachful glare, but it only lasted a heartbeat before Felix fixed his mouth to blow another raspberry—this one aimed straight at Hyunjin’s face, only to have Hyunjin abruptly stop short, yanking Felix flush against him so that their noses nearly collided.

For a second, time stilled. Felix’s laughter caught in his throat as Hyunjin glowered down at him, the commander’s grip tight around his wrist, the two of them pressed close in the silent corridor. Felix’s breath mingled with Hyunjin’s. There was something volatile and dizzying about the proximity— a thickness in the air that made Felix’s tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. He tensed, half expecting a reprimand, half hoping for a different sort of escalation.

Their faces were so close, Hyunjin could count the gold flecks in Felix’s irises, and Felix could see the faint pink at the tip of the commander’s tongue as he wet his lips.

“You’re insufferable,” Hyunjin whispered, but this time the words sounded reverent, almost like a prayer. His fingers trembled at Felix's pulse point, navigating the razor edge between restraint and surrender. The corridor pressed in, shadowed and still, as if the castle itself were holding its breath.

Felix, feeling terror that the moment might slip away, surged forward and kissed him. It was a clumsy collision of lips, more an act of desperation than an act of grace, but Felix threw himself into it with all the brute sincerity that lived inside his chest.

Hyunjin didn’t pull away—didn’t even hesitate—but snaked his hand up the back of Felix’s neck and held him in place, responding with such hunger and certainty that Felix nearly lost his balance. The kissing was urgent, consuming as Hyunjin's strong hands found Felix's waist, and suddenly Felix was lifted clear off the floor, settled against the cold stone wall, legs wrapped instinctively around Hyunjin’s hips.

The world spun as Felix was pressed between immovable muscle and freezing masonry, but Hyunjin’s taste was a fire driving the cold from his bones.

The world tilted beneath Felix as his fingertips slipped under Hyunjin's open fur coat before firmly clutching at the hard muscles of his shoulders. He traced the heat and muscle downward over Hyunjin’s pectorals and then lower, fingers splaying at the narrow of Hyunjin’s waist, feeling the taut lines as if mapping the seam between reality and fantasy. He wanted to memorize every sharp and luminous detail— the way Hyunjin breathed him in, the way their bodies aligned with an ease that made Felix’s pulse crash. When the commander's throat released a sound—raw and unrestrained—Felix nearly fainted at the reminder that his touch alone could unravel someone so powerful.

He wasn’t sure at what point he lost his shame. The longer they stayed locked together, the more Felix forgot why he’d ever wanted to resist the man in the first place.

Hyunjin's hands moved, purposeful and greedy, from Felix’s thighs to his ass, hoisting him higher, as if they could erase even the sliver of distance that remained.

Felix gasped into the kiss, anchoring himself by curling fistfuls of Hyunjin’s short hair, noticing how rapidly it was growing since their wedding. He was growing rapidly drunk on the taste and scent, and knew precisely where the next hours would lead if left unchecked. Surprisingly, the thought didn’t terrify him. It made his heart beat all the louder, reckless and hungry.

They were married, after all, so there was no explanation to offer. No need for apologies, repentance, or shame. Still, the realization left Felix giddy with disbelief. He was being kissed senseless by the man who once would have cheerfully slit his throat.

“Get a room!” A voice shouted from down the hall, followed by raucous laughter, breaking the spell. Felix jerked so hard he nearly hit his head on the wall, and Hyunjin nearly dropped him, catching him awkwardly before setting him back on his feet. Felix’s ears burned as Changbin and a few other soldiers trekked by in a noisy, unashamed procession, openly ogling them.

Changbin caught their mortified expressions and backpedaled—literally—walking backwards with palms raised in mock surrender. "Hey, don't mind us!" he called out, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Carry on with your... duties!" The soldiers filing past erupted in hoots and whistles, their armor clanking in rhythm with their laughter as they disappeared down the corridor.

A silence lingered as the last echoes of the soldiers’ laughter faded. Felix stared at the tips of his boots while Hyunjin seemed to study the grain of the stonework. Their arms hung at their sides, neither quite knowing what to do with them.

Felix, after a moment, risked a glance up.

Hyunjin’s expression was unreadable. His chest rose and fell as though he’d just finished a sprint, and when their gazes found each other, the air between them vibrated with equal parts mortification and something else entirely. Felix chewed his lower lip, uncertain whether to apologize or laugh, but before he could decide, Hyunjin's hand shot out and grasped his uninjured one. The gesture was brusque, almost businesslike, but Felix felt the tremor in Hyunjin's palm, the way his thumb pressed into Felix’s pulse as if grounding them both.

“Come on,” Hyunjin said, barely above a whisper. “You don’t want to risk infection.” He gestured at Felix’s bandaged hand, the handkerchief now completely crimson.

The abrupt shift from lust to logistics left Felix blinking, unmoored, and… disappointed. He let Hyunjin lead, trailing docilely at his side. Their kiss still lingered on his skin, in his chest, so intoxicating and real. He hadn’t realized how badly he wanted more until the moment was interrupted. Hadn’t realized how much he wanted Hyunjin to keep looking at him like that—a look that was not an order, not a threat, but a raw and trembling kind of need.

At Jeongin's chambers, Hyunjin pounded his fist against the door twice before barging in, bellowing the doctor's name with such force that the paintings along the wall seemed to tremble.

A long groan echoed from the bathroom, followed by something like a whine, stopping Felix in his tracks. He froze, heart hammering against his ribs, desperate to escape this mortifying intrusion. But before he could retreat, Hyunjin stormed forward, shouting, "Stop fucking and put some clothes on! Felix is bleeding!"

"Not fucking!" Jeongin's voice cracked with indignation.

Felix's cheeks burned as he found himself magnetically pulled to follow Hyunjin, his feet moving of their own accord. The cut was trivial—a mere excuse. What truly compelled him was the gravitational force of Hyunjin's presence, though he'd die before admitting it.

Hyunjin stood at the threshold of the bathroom, and Felix stopped behind him, peering over his shoulder. Inside, Seungmin stood shirtless, his back glistening with sweat and streaked with crimson rivulets that traced the contours of his spine. He gripped the marble counter with white knuckles, shoulders bunched with tension, a leather cloth clenched between his teeth. Behind him, Jeongin worked on Seungmin’s shoulder with latex-gloved fingers dancing with surgical precision. The needle flashed silver as it dipped in and out of torn flesh, each stitch pulling the ragged edges of the wound together like a grotesque tapestry. Jeongin's brows furrowed in concentration, his lips pressed into a thin line as he worked, the metallic scent of blood hanging heavy in the air.

"It seems your brother shares your particular talent for ignoring doctors' orders," Jeongin muttered, not looking up from his work.

Felix's stomach lurched at the sight of Seungmin's wound, the jagged valley of torn flesh that stretched from collarbone to shoulder blade, the edges puckered and angry red where earlier stitches had ripped through skin. Yellow-tinged fluid seeped from the deepest part, mixing with fresh crimson that pooled in the hollow of his shoulder blade. Felix could see the glint of exposed muscle tissue beneath, twitching with each of Seungmin's labored breaths. Whoever had wielded that axe in battle had come mere inches from severing the arm entirely. Felix wasn't sure how Seungmin was still standing upright as the man's legs trembled visibly beneath him, knees locked in a desperate bid to keep from collapsing, suffering through pain that he refused to surrender to. Seungmin's jaw clenched with the same iron determination Felix had come to recognize in Hyunjin— that particular set of the mouth, the slight flare of nostrils, the eyes that refused to acknowledge pain even as sweat beaded at the temples. The brothers shared that maddening ability to transform stubbornness into a virtue, wearing their refusal to yield like armor against the world.

For a moment, Felix wanted to offer the man a place to sit, or even to lie down on the nearby chaise with its worn velvet upholstery. He imagined himself assisting Jeongin, dabbing the wound with clean linen cloths that would bloom crimson with each touch, keeping the surgical field clear. Felix's fingers itched to remove the leather bite between Seungmin's teeth, to tell him that the stone walls of the castle had absorbed countless screams before and that expressing pain in its entirety wasn't weakness. But the rigid line of Seungmin's shoulders and the steel in his eyes told Felix all he needed to know about how such an offer would be received. Despite no biological relation, the brothers were birds of a feather.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Hyunjin's mouth, and he huffed— not because his brother was in pain, but because the stubborn fool was reaping exactly what he'd sown after disregarding explicit orders to take it easy and rest.

Seungmin flipped Hyunjin off weakly with one hand, the gesture barely a twitch of his middle finger, while his other hand continued gripping the counter so tightly, veins bulged beneath his skin.

"You shouldn't be in here," Jeongin added, his voice low and tight with concentration, needle poised mid-stitch.

Seungmin's eyes found Hyunjin's in the mirror's reflection, glassy with pain yet somehow still sharp with curiosity. He spat the leather cloth from between his teeth, leaving indentations where he'd bitten down. "What the hell are you wearing?" he asked with a dry chuckle that ended in a barely suppressed wince.

Jeongin's eyes traveled from the open front of Hyunjin's fur coat to the scandalously tight pants that hugged every contour of his thighs, a crooked smile playing on his lips. Felix followed the same path, heat rising to his cheeks as he lingered on the glimpses of his tanned chest beneath, the outfit somehow both striking and utterly inappropriate. Hyunjin caught their stares and snorted, nostrils flaring with haughty satisfaction.

"Just wanted to remind those Felorans fucks whose kingdom they were in now," he answered, eyes glittering with mischief beneath the kohl that rimmed them. "Worth it."

Seungmin's shoulders slumped as he exhaled a long, pained breath. "I can't believe Minho let a bunch of fucking elves into our home," he sneered, voice dripping with venom that seemed to coat the very air between them.

Felix's jaw tightened at Seungmin's words, a familiar ache blooming behind his ribs. His fingers curled against his palm, the bandage pulling at his wound. After witnessing how the Feloran nobles had sneered at Jisung with upturned noses and whispered slurs behind jeweled hands, Felix couldn't entirely argue with him. Those silver-tongued vipers wouldn't be welcomed in at his doorstep either. Yet, being swept into the same contemptuous glance as those who shared nothing with him but magic and ancient bloodlines made something wither inside him. Regardless of how snotty the nobles of Felora could be, they represented only a handful. Felix's chest ached with longing for the crystalline spires of home, for the gardens where moonflowers unfurled at dusk, for the familiar rhythm of bells marking times of the day that had structured his days since childhood. He bristled at the unfairness of Seungmin's blanket hatred. Hell, his parents had spent decades at diplomatic tables, sacrificing sleep and sanity, crafting treaties line by painful line, all to bridge the chasm between Felora and all other kingdoms, Levanter included, only for men like Seungmin to dismiss their life's work.

Hyunjin's lips curled into a sardonic grin, eyes glittering with mischief. "I mean, Minho lives balls deep inside an elf now. What do you expect?"

Seungmin's face contorted into a pained grimace, a groan escaping through clenched teeth. With fluid grace, Hyunjin reached for Felix, his calloused fingers warm against the thin fabric of Felix's sleeve as he pulled him closer. The casual weight of Hyunjin's arm settled across Felix's shoulders, heavy and possessive.

"And I'm married to one. I guess it's a family tradition now," Hyunjin continued. "So you better go pick yours out before they flee the kingdom. I think Felix scared them off."

His laughter echoed against the walls unrestrained. Felix's cheeks blazed with heat, the flush spreading down his neck, but beneath his embarrassment bloomed a flower of pride that he couldn't quite conceal, his lips betraying him with the hint of a satisfied smile.

Seungmin's face twisted into a visceral grimace, his upper lip curling back to reveal clenched teeth as if he'd just bitten into something rotten. The mere thought of coupling with some pompous, middle-aged Feloran noble made his stomach churn. Still, the familiar glint of mischief in Hyunjin's gaze told him his brother was merely baiting him, as he'd done since their youth.

Jeongin's fingers never paused in their meticulous work, the silver needle flashing between bloodstained digits as he drew the thread through Seungmin's flesh. "I'll kill them," he murmured.

Felix and Hyunjin's laughter broke simultaneously across the room, a shared recognition of the possessive boyfriend simmering beneath Jeongin's clinical exterior. Even Seungmin's lips curved upward through his pain, the corner of his mouth twitching as a droplet of sweat rolled down his temple. His eyes, glassy with agony, found Jeongin's reflection in the mirror.

"If I ever leave you for an elf," Seungmin rasped, his voice rough-edged from biting down on leather, "please kill me too."

"Deal," Jeongin replied without hesitation, his gaze never lifting from the wound.

A strange, quiet beat followed. Not exactly awkward, just charged.

Hyunjin leaned against the doorway like he had nowhere better to be, watching Seungmin and Jeongin with a small, strangely affectionate smile. He hadn’t said a word since the joke landed, like he was savoring the moment or maybe just soaking in the comfort of being near people who didn’t ask or expect anything from him. Felix realized with a pang that he was witnessing something rare, maybe even sacred: the ineffable chemistry of what family looked like when it wasn’t obligated by blood, but chosen and forged in a thousand small, unremarkable acts of devotion. He couldn’t quite recall the last time one of his parents had looked at him that way— fond and entirely unguarded, as if he himself, Lee Felix, was an irreplaceable gem in their life.

Felix found himself studying the three of them: Seungmin, shaking but unbowed; Jeongin, precise and unflappable, with eyes as sharp as the needle; and Hyunjin, eyes softening with a sort of bashful pride, his arm still slung comfortably around Felix as if it were the most natural thing in the world. For a second, Felix felt as though he was an intruder and an initiate at once, touched by the intimacy but also terrified by how much he wanted to belong to it.

Hyunjin's eyes flickered toward Felix for the briefest moment, and a fleeting look passed between them— Hyunjin's expression impossible to decipher— before he withdrew his arm from Felix's shoulders, letting it drop with casual indifference that somehow felt deliberate.

Felix cleared his throat loudly and then, before he could stop himself, he spoke.

"You can't help who you fall in love with," Felix blurted, the words tumbling from his lips before he could catch them. The room went silent. Three pairs of eyes swiveled toward him—Seungmin's narrowed in suspicion, Jeongin's coolly analytical, and Hyunjin's suddenly sharp with interest. Heat crawled up Felix's neck like ivy, blooming across his cheeks in splotches of crimson.

"I mean—" Felix's fingers twisted in the hem of his tunic. "Not you specifically, Seungmin. You and Jeongin are clearly..." He gestured vaguely at the couple. "But hypothetically speaking. Even if someone despised elves with every fiber of their being—" His eyes flickered briefly to Hyunjin, whose face remained impassive. "—against their own wishes, they could still find themselves falling anyway. And perhaps they’d come to love an elf not in spite of their heritage, but regardless of it."

Jeongin's needle paused mid-stitch, hovering above Seungmin's skin. A single droplet of blood welled up, ruby-bright against flesh. "I'm inclined to agree," he said, voice clinical but eyes knowing as they darted between Felix and Hyunjin.

Seungmin said nothing, but his gaze burned into Felix with uncomfortable intensity, as if peeling back layers to expose something raw beneath.

Hyunjin fixed his gaze intently at a spot on the floor, his shoulders suddenly rigid beneath his fur coat. The silence stretched taut as a bowstring.

"I mean," Felix continued, words spilling out to fill the suffocating quiet, "Hyunjin showed me today that there are part-Feloran children here— in a land that historically despises the very air we breathe." His voice strengthened, chin lifting. "Yet, there’s living, breathing proof that citizens here have lain with elves."

Seungmin's lips twisted into a sardonic smile. "Fucking and love are two different things," he said, voice soft but cutting. "You can have one without the other, you know."

Jeongin's fingers paused mid-motion as he cut away a section of bloodied thread, the silver scissors catching the light. "I hope you're not insinuating Felorans cannot be loved," he said, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he resumed his work. "Take one look at Minho and try to convince me whatever has enraptured him is purely carnal." The firm set of his jaw brooked no argument.

Felix nodded imperceptibly, recalling how Minho’s eyes followed Jisung's every movement like a man dying of thirst watches water—a devotion that transcended mere physical attraction.

"Jisung is only half, though," Hyunjin pointed out. His fingers drummed against the doorframe, betraying the curiosity that his carefully neutral expression tried to mask. A shadow passed behind his eyes—acknowledgment, perhaps, that Minho's feelings for Jisung were genuine, though the admission seemed to stick in his throat like a fishbone.

The weight of unspoken implications hung in the air between them, making Felix's argument suddenly, uncomfortably personal.

"And? Doesn't that in itself prove my point?" Felix's voice rose, fingers splaying in frustration. "A man, a foreigner, shared affections with his mother—"

"—but he doesn't know his father, right?" Hyunjin cut in. "So that proves nothing more than his mother fucked a non-Feloran. They may not have loved each other at all. Hell, they may not have even liked each other." The harsh words fell like stones between them.

Felix's face contorted, brows drawing together, lips parting in disbelief.

"So what do you do, then?" he asked, voice trembling. "Just turn them around, bend them over, mount like an animal, use them, and be gone as soon as you ejaculate?" His fingers curled into his palms. "How can you bear yourself to a person you don’t care for, someone you do not trust wholeheartedly? That makes no sense to me!" The words tumbled out raw and unfiltered, leaving Felix's chest heaving, eyes bright with emotion he couldn't quite name.

Though he was using 'you' in general again, Felix felt a cold knot of guilt twist in his stomach as the words left his mouth. He knew too well that before their marriage, Hyunjin had participated in emotionless sex and, sometimes, for rather darker reasons— sometimes just to feel nothing at all.

Hyunjin seemed to recognize the unintended accusation. His eyes met Felix's for a fraction of a second, irises flashing with something like remembered pain, before dropping to the ground again, his face settling into that carefully constructed mask of neutrality.

Jeongin's eyes lit with scholarly enthusiasm as he tied off the final suture. "Felix has a point, actually. Scientifically speaking, during sex— well, pleasurable sex—" he huffed amusedly, "—the brain floods with a hormone called oxytocin. Originally, it was discovered that extracts from the pituitary gland could cause contractions in pregnant animals. Later on, it proved to promote bonding and trust as well. Researchers have nicknamed it the 'love hormone.’" His fingers, steady despite the delicate work, pulled the black thread taut against Seungmin's skin. "The chemistry is fascinating, not to mention dopamine and endorphins surging. The body basically becomes a laboratory of connection." He snipped the excess thread with scissors. "That's why some find sex as addictive as opium... while others," his lips curled into a knowing smirk, eyes flicking up to meet Seungmin's in the reflection, "master the art of asking for expensive gifts at precisely the right moment." Seungmin's head whipped around, eyes narrowing to slits, before his expression melted into fond exasperation. Jeongin's quiet laugh bubbled up as he pressed a clean cloth to the now-closed wound, his touch lingering just a moment longer than medically necessary.

"So…" Hyunjin suddenly drawled, voice honey-slow but brittle at its edges. The corner of his mouth twitched downward. "This has been fun and all, but I’m here because I need you to look at Felix's hand."

Felix's stomach plummeted like a stone dropped from a cliff. The warmth that had been building in his chest crystallized into something sharp and cold. He watched Hyunjin's face—those full lips that had so recently claimed his own now pressed into a thin, dismissive line. The commander's dark eyes, which had burned with unmistakable hunger that very morning, now skated across the room, refusing to linger on anything, least of all Felix. Had their passionate exchange— Hyunjin's tongue tracing the seam of his lips, hands gripping his waist with possessive heat—meant nothing at all? A calculated performance? Felix's cheeks burned with the memory of surrendering to those demanding kisses, the way he'd melted in Hyunjin's embrace.

"And how would one know," Felix asked aloud, voice catching on the words like fabric on thorns, “if what they were feeling was from the heart or if it were merely a product of these hormones produced during intimacy?" He searched Hyunjin's profile desperately for any flicker of recognition, any crack in that stone facade, but Hyunjin merely glanced sideways at him, eyes flat and unreadable as a frozen lake, before returning his gaze to some invisible point on the far wall.

He stole another glance at Hyunjin, whose eyes remained fixed on some invisible point in the middle distance. Not a flicker of emotion crossed those high cheekbones or full lips— just that thousand-yard stare that revealed nothing of the thoughts churning beneath.

Jeongin motioned Felix closer with a gentle tilt of his head. "Let me see," he murmured, palm upturned expectantly.

Hyunjin's shoulders remained rigid, his breathing shallow and measured. Felix could almost feel the deliberate effort it took for him to remain so detached.

Seungmin struggled to pull a crisp cotton shirt over his damp torso with the one good arm, fingers fumbling at the hem before giving up and letting it hang limp and crooked over his chest as he sat on the bath's porcelain edge, his eyes never leaving Jeongin's nimble hands as they cradled Felix's injured palm, carefully unwrapping the handkerchief.

"How'd you manage this?" Jeongin asked, his voice soft as he inspected the fresh cuts.

Felix's gaze fell to his hand, and his lips parted, revealing the edge of his teeth, then closed again, trapping the confession behind them. The truth felt too raw to speak aloud—how the nobles' cruelty toward Jisung had ignited something dangerous inside him, a molten fury that he’d suppressed for far too long until his fingers had tightened around delicate glass, squeezing until it surrendered beneath his rage.

Felix's gaze dropped to the floor, shame coloring his features.

"I was holding a wine glass and… it broke," he murmured.

Jeongin's eyebrow arched as he turned Felix's injured palm to examine it at a different angle. "Fascinating. All by itself?" he remarked, voice light and teasing but eyes knowing.

"I was angry," Felix found himself saying, the confession spilling out before he could stop it.

Jeongin looked up through his lashes, his keen eyes analyzing every micro-expression that flickered across Felix's freckled face. "If you’re going to be one of those people who hurt themselves every time they get upset, I’m starting to see why Minho partnered you with Hyunjin." Jeongin's lips curled into a teasing smile, his laughter light and musical in the tense atmosphere.

Felix wrinkled his nose, the constellation of freckles across his cheeks shifting as his expression wavered between offense and embarrassment.

A rosy blush crept up his neck to his ears as he cautiously glanced toward Hyunjin, bracing for disapproval but finding only the commander's glassy, vacant stare still fixed on nothing at all.

"Hyunjin," Felix called, his voice laced with concern. He reached out, placing his free palm against the commander's arm, the fur coat warm beneath his touch as he tried to pull the man back from whatever distant shore his mind had drifted to.

Hyunjin blinked slowly, his eyelashes fluttering like awakening butterflies as awareness gradually returned to his features. The weight of everyone's concerned gazes pressed against him, and his shoulders tensed as if they could see his thoughts— particularly those revolving around the blonde beside him— and that fear twisted like a knife in his chest.

He felt words stick in his throat like a wooden splinter lodged beneath skin, the desperate urge to say something, anything, to smooth over the jagged silence, to craft elaborate excuses. To pretend he wasn't wrestling with Felix's poetic words that now echoed in his mind like a haunting melody, or how those syllables were carving truth into his resistant heart. To pretend he wasn't replaying the velvet softness of Felix's lips against his own. The memory of Felix's flushed face, those breathless sounds escaping parted lips.

But his tongue lay useless and heavy. He needed escape, needed air.

Not because he wanted distance from Felix exactly, but because the need to touch him— kiss him— again pulsed beneath his skin like a danger.

The kind of danger that turned rational men into fools.

So he simply nodded curtly in farewell to the trio, his neck stiff as iron, before turning on his heel and fleeing Jeongin's chambers, the ornate door clicking shut behind him with damning finality.

Seungmin expelled a weary breath as his fingers dragged slowly across his features.

Felix stood frozen as Hyunjin retreated, the echo of his boots ricocheting off the stone walls. Felix’s chest constricted with each step that widened the distance between them until. The air felt wrong without him in it. Too still, too hollow.

He should have known better. The commander was a hurricane dressed in flesh and steel, capable of leveling entire cities without looking back. Those rare moments when Hyunjin's defenses crumbled, when his hands trembled against Felix's skin and his breath hitched with raw vulnerability had felt sacred. Like glimpsing sunlight bleeding through storm clouds.

But those were just cruel mirages.

Every time Felix reached for him, dared to hope, those walls slammed back up— impenetrable, merciless. Hyunjin rebuilt them with a soldier’s precision.

And still, Felix couldn’t stop wanting to try.

The hunger inside him was maddening, coiled tight, and desperate. He’d already tasted the forbidden fruit behind those walls— the unguarded truth, the fractured tenderness, the human ache Hyunjin tried so hard to bury— and now he was addicted. The ghost of Hyunjin’s touch still lingered on his skin, the rough drag of calloused fingers, the searing press of a kiss that felt like a starving man had been gifted a feast. Felix swore he could still feel Hyunjin’s breath against his mouth, that faint tremor that betrayed the man’s own fear of feeling too much.

It was all Felix could think about. All he could want.

Damn Hwang Hyunjin and his contradictions— the way he could make Felix feel infinite one second and disposable the next. The rational voice in Felix’s mind begged him to walk away before he broke completely, but the stubbornness in his veins drowned it out completely.

He didn’t want to escape anymore.

No, he wanted in.

He wanted to burn through every defense, every inch of armor, until Hyunjin had nowhere left to hide. To peel back the layers until all that remained was the man beneath— the wounded, beautiful, infuriating soul Felix had glimpsed only in stolen seconds. He wasn’t going to beg for scraps anymore. He was done waiting at the gates.

Felix straightened, chest heaving, a quiet fury settling into his bones. If Hyunjin were a fortress, Felix would be the siege. He would tear those walls down brick by bloody brick, even if it meant being crushed beneath the rubble. He’d storm that citadel of fear and guilt and pride, set fire to every memory that had ever made Hyunjin retreat, and drag him out from the ruins if he had to.

No more half-measures. No more pretending.

He would breach the walls completely— not to conquer, but to reach. To greet the man inside the hurricane and hold him still long enough for him to see that he didn’t have to fight the world alone.

And if it destroyed them both?

So be it.

The sharp ripping sound of medical tape tore through Felix's reverie. He blinked back to awareness, finding Jeongin had already bathed his wound in stinging antiseptic and wrapped it in pristine white gauze while Felix had been lost in the labyrinth of his own thoughts.

Felix examined his freshly bandaged hand, the neat edges of the dressing contrasting against his sun-kissed skin. When he glanced up to offer gratitude, he found Jeongin's fox-like eyes glittering with mischief, lips curled into a knowing smile that made the freckles across Felix's cheeks burn hot.

"Is it fair to assume you're getting along better?" Jeongin's melodic voice lilted teasingly as his deft fingers began cleaning the counter.

Felix's brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing as he tried to decipher the loaded question hanging in the air between them.

Before he could formulate a response, Seungmin pushed himself away from his perch with graceful nonchalance. He leaned against the counter next to Jeongin, one leg crossed casually over the other.

Jeongin’s gaze met Seungmin’s half-dressed state, the shirt hanging crooked off one shoulder, and he let out a quiet snort, rolling his eyes. He was well aware that Seungmin was faking helplessness, injury be damned. Jeongin had seen firsthand what he was capable of, even half-broken, and how painfully stubborn he could be about doing things himself. But right now, the manipulative bastard knew exactly what he was doing— playing right into Jeongin’s soft spot for taking care of him. And the worst part was, Jeongin couldn’t even pretend to mind.

Not anymore. Not since their reunion. Not since Seungmin had finally surrendered and stopped fighting and begun letting himself be cared for. Jeongin would dress him from head to toe every morning—hell, even bathe him if that’s what it took—if it meant Seungmin would never walk away from him again.

So he happily helped him back into his shirt, gentle hands coaxing him through the pain until it was done. They shared a small smile, quiet and almost shy.

But Seungmin’s eyes shifted before the moment could settle, finding Felix still standing there awkwardly. The softness instantly vanished. His glare was precise, deliberate, and accusatory.

"It's possible he's simply taken to you as one of his comrades," Seungmin spoke, each word precise as a jeweler cutting facets into a gemstone, "but I stand by what I said... whether even he believes it or not, he trusts you..." The statement hung heavy in the air. Felix's mind flashed unbidden to steam rising from bare shoulders, tears, trembling fingers, and confessions exchanged in the sanctuary of falling water only days ago.

"I also find it incredibly difficult to hate you despite what you are," Seungmin continued, his gaze unwavering, "so look me in the eye right now and swear to me you haven't done something to cause my brother to regard you favorably."

Jeongin's palm found Seungmin's chest with swift precision as his eyes narrowed into a silent, unmistakable reprimand.

Felix's stomach plummeted as heat surged through his veins, vivid flashes searing through his mind: Hyunjin's head thrown back in the bath, throat exposed, lips parted in raw abandon. The commander's fingers digging desperately into his thighs in the carriage, breath ragged against Felix's neck. Their intertwined hands. Felix's thumb stroking over scars as Hyunjin shattered open before him, confessing horrors no one else had been trusted to hear. The memory of their public, reckless kiss only moments ago, tasting of icing and forbidden desire, burned his lips even now. Then realization crashed through him like ice water— Seungmin wasn't asking about any of that. He was alluding to magic. Just magic. Only magic. The shame hit Felix like a physical blow.

Felix's breath caught as Jeongin and Seungmin locked eyes in a silent battle that crackled with unspoken history. When they turned to him, the air in the room seemed to thin.

Jeongin's smile was razor-thin, stretched across his face like a wound. "He, like Hyunjin, is having a hard time accepting the alliance. Bad history and all. Please forgive him." The doctor's voice trembled, but his fingers curled over Seungmin's good hand, holding him steady and grounding them both. Seungmin’s gaze flicked down at their joined hands, and it only seemed to set him further on edge, his frown deepening in a way that looked almost comical.

"Every kingdom has bad history with other kingdoms," Seungmin spat, his jaw clenched so tight Felix could see a vein pulsing at his temple. His eyes burned with barely contained fury.

Jeongin's transformation was instant, and gone was the gentle healer as he squared his shoulders and stepped closer to Seungmin, his eyes flashing with such a warning that Felix instinctively backed away.

Seungmin ignored the warning in Jeongin's eyes, pushing himself upright with a grimace as pain flared across his injured side. "No." The word cut through the air like the crack of a whip. "Why should we coddle him with lies like he's some innocent child we're shielding from the harsh reality? He's a grown ass man, and he's bound to my brother. The truth will eventually find him either way." His voice rose with each word, the tendons in his neck standing out like cords beneath his skin. "Do you honestly believe he can spend the rest of his days here in Levanter without ever finding out? I’m not even convinced he’s in the dark! How can—"

Jeongin suddenly snatched up a blood-spotted towel and hurled it into the waste bin with such force that the metal container rang like a dull bell. His knuckles blanched as he gripped the counter's edge, shoulders rising and falling with each shaky breath. The silence between them stretched taut as a bowstring.

Felix's stomach churned, acid climbing his throat. Cold sweat beaded along his hairline as a wave of nausea crashed over him. His heart hammered against his ribs like a prisoner beating against cell bars, each thud sending tremors through his limbs. Whatever revelation loomed on the horizon, it cast a shadow so long and dark he could already feel it engulfing him.

Seungmin's jaw worked beneath his skin, a muscle twitching at the corner of his mouth as he locked eyes with Jeongin.

"Not every secret is ours to reveal, Seungmin." Jeongin's voice had dropped to a whisper, fragile as autumn leaves. He crossed his arms over his chest, shoulders curving inward as though trying to make himself smaller, a man collapsing under the weight of a terrible memory.

Seungmin moved behind Jeongin with the careful grace of someone approaching a wounded animal. His fingers traced slow, deliberate circles between Jeongin's shoulder blades, pressing just firmly enough to ground him. "Then only share what is yours to tell," he whispered, his lips nearly brushing the shell of Jeongin's ear, breath warm against skin.

Jeongin's shoulders remained rigid beneath Seungmin's touch. "And what about Minho?"

Seungmin's lips pressed against the curve of Jeongin's cheek discreetly, lingering just long enough to leave a ghost of warmth. "I'll take care of him," he promised, the words velvet-soft but iron-strong.

"Can either of you just fess up?" Felix's voice broke through the tension. His face flushed crimson, nostrils flaring as he drew himself up to full height. "I'm not standing here another second while you two whisper cryptic messages. Tell me what the hell is going on before I lose my mind!" His chest heaved as though he'd run for miles.

Seungmin shifted to stand at Jeongin's side, his posture a silent question mark— there if needed, but prepared to retreat at the slightest signal that Jeongin wasn't ready to unearth these memories.

A visible tremor ran through Jeongin's frame as he hoisted himself onto the counter, the fabric of his trousers pulling taut across his thighs. His nod was almost imperceptible, a mere dip of his chin.

Felix's mind was a storm-tossed sea, each emotion a different current pulling him under. Confusion clouded his thoughts while nausea twisted his gut into knots. His pulse raced beneath his skin, fear and intrigue battling for dominance as his fingers trembled at his sides. Beneath it all ran an undercurrent of impatience that made his jaw clench tight enough to ache. And still, through this tempest of feeling, concern for Hyunjin cut through. He imagined visions of the commander stumbling alone through hallways, eyes haunted and distant, hurt by the elf’s implied contempt. It pulled at Felix’s insides like cords stretching to the point of breaking. Two urgencies warred within him: the need to go after Hyunjin and apologize for his thoughtless comments about sex and the desperate curiosity to uncover whatever knowledge these men were guarding.

Jeongin's hands twisted together in his lap, fingers knotting and unknotting like anxious creatures with lives of their own. When he finally spoke, his eyes darted upward for just a moment before fixing on some distant point beyond Felix's shoulder, his voice quiet but steady.

"Seungmin is right. All kingdoms have bad histories with several others, but the forces of Felora have done things in more recent—"

"I know about the decades-long cold war between your kingdom and mine, but it's over now," Felix interjected, his voice as dry.

"No." Jeongin's eyes darkened. "This isn't about Levanter nor the so-called cold war. I'm speaking about… other things… like the war the Felorans have seemingly waged against all mankind." His voice was soft but carried the weight of steel, each word falling precisely as he watched Felix's face transform, eyes widening, lips parting, and the color draining from his cheeks.

"Our forces haven't seen true war nor physical battle since before even my father was born," Felix countered, his words sharp-edged and flat. A deep furrow was carved between his brows, his mouth twisting with indignation.

The cold war between Felora and Levanter was common knowledge, etched into history books and whispered in court hallways. It’s the very reason Felix stood here within Levanter now. But an actual war? Bloodshed and destruction? Impossible. The very suggestion made Felix's stomach churn.

"That's bullshit," Seungmin spat, the words like venom from his lips.

Felix's jaw tightened, glaring at him through the sudden kaleidoscope of lightheadedness that hit him. "How dare you insinuate—”

"Felix." Jeongin's voice floated across the tension-thick air, gentle as a feather. His face was a mask of forced composure, cracks showing at the edges, nostrils slightly flared, and a tremor in his lower lip. "Have you ever heard of Miroh?"

Felix stared at the man, his throat constricting painfully as he swallowed against the sudden dryness. The silence between them stretched elastic and uncomfortable, like warm taffy pulled to its breaking point, before he finally nodded. "Miroh," he recited. “It was a lawless wasteland within the southernmost region. Not terribly far from here, actually. It was uninhabitable, unmanned, and crawling with wild people living like uncultured animals. The Mirohi would attack and kill any civilized traveler who dared try to pass through their territory." His voice diminished to barely above a whisper, the words tumbling out mechanically. "When I was younger, a messenger interrupted dinner to inform my parents that the Queen of Levanter set it ablaze, and it now sits in ruin." The rehearsed phrases fell from his lips like stones, each one heavier than the last, as if he were a schoolboy reciting a memorized passage for an impatient tutor.

Seungmin and Jeongin exchanged glances before releasing twin laughs, both hollow sounds that held no mirth, like wind whistling through empty graves. Felix's neck prickled with unease.

"But something tells me you're about to inform me otherwise…"

Jeongin's teeth worried his bottom lip, leaving it red and swollen. His gaze flicked up to Seungmin— a silent plea for strength— before settling on Felix with the weight of mountains. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears that caught the light like diamonds, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed repeatedly. When he spoke, his voice hardened.

"We were not wild, uncultured animals. We were homesteaders. We lived in cabins our families built beam by beam. We traded beef from our own cattle for wool from our neighbors' sheep." His fingers trembled against his knees. "We held meetings under a three-thousand-year-old oak tree, and every voice carried equal weight. And we were peaceful. So peaceful that wild deer animals sometimes grazed at the edges of our gardens while we worked." His voice cracked. "Though every so often, when some foreign elite would appear in an attempt to convert us to whatever god or king they served that season, the people would gather and deal with them however they deemed fit."

Felix's jaw slackened, the corners of his mouth going slack as he watched a single tear break free from Jeongin's lashes. It caught the light before carving a glistening path down his cheek, disappearing into the hollow beneath his jaw.

Felix shifted his gaze to Seungmin, whose eyes never left Jeongin's face. The hard lines around Seungmin's mouth had softened, his usual sharp angles melting into something tender. His breathing matched Jeongin's— shallow when Jeongin's words faltered, deeper when Jeongin found his strength. When Jeongin's voice broke, Seungmin's fingers twitched at his sides, as if physically restraining himself from reaching out too soon.

“The day the invasion came, I was just a boy. For weeks, there were rumors, but no one paid them any mind. Who would bother with us anyway? We owned nothing worth taking. We threatened no one. Still, my mother was always a timid woman, so she tore up our cabin floor and hollowed out a hiding place beneath the boards. She finished it the day before they arrived. It’s strange looking back, how beautiful they looked at first— like something from fables, riding stark white horses against the morning horizon. We children... we couldn’t understand why the adults yanked us away so quickly. It didn't matter in the end. There was no escaping. Those who refused to surrender… their homes were burned with them inside. Those who surrendered… well, they suffered even worse fates. Children… infants… thrown into pyres… There was so much fire." Jeongin's voice shattered like glass. He reached blindly for Seungmin, who caught his trembling fingers and held them tight while silent tears tracked down both their faces. "My parents pushed me into that dark space. The last thing they said—" A sob tore from his throat. "They told me they loved me. Told me not to make a sound—"

Felix's ears rang with a high-pitched whine, drowning out everything but the thundering of his own pulse. The space behind his eyes burned hot, vision blurring at the edges as if his body were rejecting what he'd just heard. Fury crawled up his throat like a living thing, tasting of copper and salt. This had to be some elaborate, cruel joke— a test designed to shatter his composure and make him look the fool.

His fingers curled into fists at his sides, knuckles blanching white as he fought to keep his voice steady. "I've quite enjoyed your company during my time living here, Doctor. I even considered you a friend. But I do not appreciate whatever this game is. There is one single kingdom known for its gregarious usage of fire, and it is not Felora. I bid my father farewell countless times for various of his travels, and not a single time was he gearing up for battle." The words tumbled out, his accent thickening with each syllable, a vein pulsing visibly at his temple.

Seungmin's lips curled into a sneer, eyes flashing like polished obsidian. "Your father must give the orders as he is the king, but likely doesn't have the balls to swing the sword," he snapped, then pivoted on his heel. He gathered Jeongin into his arm, his good hand cradling the back of his head, fingers threading through ginger strands while his lips brushed against Jeongin's ear, murmuring words too soft for Felix to hear.

Felix's jaw clenched so tight he could feel his molars grinding. The room seemed to shrink around him, the air growing thick and difficult to breathe. "If you are certain Felorans did it, who's to say my father even knew about it? It could have been rogues for all you know— people long since exiled," he said, the words precise and measured despite the storm brewing behind his eyes.

Seungmin's head whipped around, his gaze cutting through the space between them like a blade, but Felix planted his feet wider, shoulders squared.

The words hung in the air like a challenge. "You said it yourself—Miroh had nothing to offer, no? So what reason would Felora have to attack anyway?" Felix's voice echoed in the suddenly too-quiet room, bouncing off the stone walls and returning to him like a taunt.

"People with that kind of power often do whatever the fuck they want," Seungmin responded, his injured arm doing its best to work gentle circles against Jeongin's trembling back. His voice was cold, a stark contrast to the tenderness of his touch. "The goal post always moves. They crave more and more until they conquer everything. The Felorans we are familiar with think themselves above all others— like gods walking among insects."

Heat rushed up Felix's neck in a violent tide, flooding his face. His tunic suddenly felt too tight around his throat. "If we are such vile creatures, committing war crimes on random lands, seeking world domination, then why would your king wed ME to his brother? What sense does that make?! Why would he welcome me into his home when he's aware I could strike at any moment? Huh?!" The words exploded from him like arrows, spittle flying from his lips as he slammed a fist against his own chest with force.

Seungmin's expression hardened to granite, his jaw clenching so tight a muscle jumped beneath the skin. He unwound himself from Jeongin carefully, each movement deliberate as he turned fully to face Felix. His good hand curled into a white-knuckled fist at his side as he crossed the space with intent.

Felix stood his ground, chest heaving, as Seungmin stepped impossibly closer, the scent of his cologne invading Felix’s nostrils. His opponent’s breath hitched with every word as if daring Felix to flinch. “There are some things even I can’t answer,” Seungmin said, voice low and measured, “but I trust that my brother has his shit together. And if it wasn’t already obvious, you weren’t exactly welcomed with open arms.” His glare burned like ice— no contempt, really, but a hollow regret that hovered at the edges of his eyes.

Felix’s temples throbbed, each heartbeat hammering against his skull. He let out a humorless snort. “Of course I wasn’t,” he spat, voice raw, “because you’re a bunch of prejudiced pieces of shit who think—”

“Stop!” Jeongin’s sudden voice, hoarse from crying, cut through the tension like a blade. His eyes, bloodshot and shining with fresh tears, locked onto Felix’s, drilling into him with fierce clarity. Jeongin brushed a trembling sleeve across his nose, sniffing once, and hopped off the counter, taking a steadying step forward until he stood shoulder to shoulder with Seungmin in front of the elf.

“I’ve enjoyed your company as well,” Jeongin said, voice surprisingly calm. “A lot, actually. So forgive me if this stings. I don’t mean to offend you, but certainly you’re wise enough to understand… You just called my people uncultured animals. Where did those cruel words come from, Felix? Your tutors? Your parents? Is that what they teach in Felora?” He cocked his head, curious, as if watching a butterfly trapped against a pane of glass.

Felix’s mouth snapped open, then closed again. He tasted the metallic sting of guilt on his tongue. He’d spent his life repeating other people’s prejudices— guards’ whispers, his father’s offhand remarks— never questioning them. Now the weight of his ignorance pressed down on him, twisting his stomach into knots. The hypocrisy of his own accusation struck him like a physical blow. How could he call others prejudiced when his own mouth had just spewed venom about strangers whose lives he'd never bothered to understand?

Seungmin’s lips curved in a bitter half-smile. “And if that’s how Felorans view the people of Miroh,” he said quietly, contempt curling in his voice, “Then an attack wouldn’t be so terrible, right? Why not attack? Just savages to be cleansed from the earth.”

The words fell like stones. Immovable.

Panic flared in Felix’s chest. The room seemed to shrink, and the air grew thick and suffocating. Sweat pearled on his brow, slid down his spine. His breath came in shallow, ragged gasps as the truth burrowed into his bones.

“I— I have to go,” he stammered. His voice cracked. “I’ll speak to my father myself. Then maybe—” He swallowed hard. “I will know you’re playing some sick joke.” He turned to flee, desperate for escape.

Before he could run away, Jeongin’s hand closed around his wrist.

The contact sent a shockwave through Felix’s arm. Time seemed to shiver. Felix’s vision blurred as the world spun, the hard truth of that gentle grip echoing in his very marrow.

Chapter Text

Felix blinked and found himself transported to a vast meadow where wooden cabins formed a massive circular village pattern. Or what remained of one. Many structures had collapsed into abstract heaps, their ashes sending up plumes of acrid smoke that stung his nostrils and obscured the horizon.

Morning dew sparkled on the surrounding grass as Felix turned in bewildered circles, trying to make sense of his new surroundings. He nearly leapt backward when he completed his rotation and found himself face-to-face with Seungmin— a much younger version, no older than twelve years old- whose gaze seemed to pass straight through him as if he weren’t there.

Seungmin's voice cracked as he called out to the soldiers approaching behind on horseback. "I think they're all dead!"

"No shit," Hyunjin snarled, ramming his shoulder into Seungmin as he passed. His warrior's mohawk, sides shaved, center hair knotted tight, would have made Felix laugh any other day, but not here. Not with limbs scattered across churned mud, not with blackened corpses still smoldering, their fat crackling. The stench of iron and rot coated Felix's tongue. Nothing breathed in this hellscape except the band of Levanter soldiers and the brothers, all of them far too young to be wading through a massacre.

Felix's eyes darted frantically from face to face, heart hammering against his ribs as young Minho—lanky but already carrying himself with the rigid posture of someone twice his age—lunged forward. His open palm cracked against Hyunjin's shoulder with enough force to make the younger boy stagger.

"Language!" Minho scolded sternly.

Hyunjin's face contorted, a flash of raw fury twisting his features as he coiled his fingers into a white-knuckled fist. He jerked forward but froze mid-motion when Minho didn't so much as blink, just bored into him with eyes that promised consequences should Hyunjin proceed. For a moment, neither boy moved. Hyunjin vibrated with violence while Minho stood calm, anchored, and unimpressed.

The earth trembled as a stallion's hooves pounded to a halt.

"BOYS!" The man's voice cracked like thunder, his features hardened with fury as he vaulted from the saddle and landed with military precision, closing the distance between them in three aggressive strides.

Hyunjin recoiled as if struck, his body curving backward like a wilting flower, while Minho's broad shoulders dropped in immediate surrender, collapsing under an invisible weight. Their faces, moments ago flushed with frustration, drained of color until they resembled masks, defiance evaporating like morning dew.

"Behave," growled the man, donning the crimson commander's cape that Hyunjin now possessed. He didn't spare either of them a glance, his authority absolute.

The man, unmistakably the former commander of Levanter, scanned the area.

Behind the man's back, Seungmin's eyes flashed with vindictive triumph as he thrust his tongue out at his brothers, who answered with silent, venomous glares that promised revenge later.

The man’s voice cut through the frigid air like a blade. "Check for life," he ordered, his weathered face betraying no emotion. The soldiers scattered across the ravaged village, boots thumping against the blood-soaked earth. Even the young boys moved with practiced efficiency. A chill ran down Felix's spine as he realized then that, somehow, he was witnessing Seungmin's memory, not Jeongin's, which should have been impossible without physical contact.

Felix's consciousness trailed Seungmin as the boy pushed open a splintered cabin door. The stench hit immediately— sweet, sickly rot that made Seungmin's eyes water as he pulled his gaiter mask over his nose. Inside, shadows draped over contorted forms. Methodically, the boy pressed two fingers to each throat and checked for breath against his palm, his expression blank save for the occasional twitch at the corner of his mouth. His movements were mechanical, rehearsed, those of a child who had already seen death too many times to count.

When he entered a home with a particularly gruesome scene, Seungmin’s boots stuck to the floorboards with each step. A relatively young couple lay prone on the raw hardwood, their linen clothes torn from their bodies like tissue paper. Their heads— once adorned with familiar ginger strands now matted with crimson— were caved in, skulls fractured like eggshells from violent blunt force. Gray-pink brain matter splattered the space in abstract patterns.

Felix's stomach lurched violently, bile rising in his throat as he turned away, only to see Hyunjin stepping inside, his jaw tightening as he surveyed the carnage. "Fucking elves," Hyunjin spat through clenched teeth. "We were too late. They killed them all."

The words hung in the air, heavier and fouler than the stench of blood.

But as Hyunjin gazed down at the dead, his face— so expertly contorted into disgust—cracked around the edges. Felix could see the tremor in the boy's lower lip, the way one hand drove fingernails into his own palm. For a moment, Hyunjin looked like a lost child, dwarfed by the violence around him. Felix wanted to reach out, to take that hand and uncurl those fingers, to press both palms against the silk of Hyunjin’s rage until it sifted into sorrow. But he was only a ghost here, powerless and unseen.

Seungmin crouched beside a corpse, carefully working a pendant from the woman's stiff fingers— a silver cross, its gemstones winking against the tarnished metal chain. He froze suddenly, head cocked to one side.

"There's something under the floor," he whispered.

Hyunjin approached with measured steps, suspicion, and curiosity warring on his face. He knelt beside his brother, both of them pressing their faces close to a tiny gap between the wooden planks.

After a moment, Hyunjin straightened. "No, there isn’t."

"Yes, there is!" Seungmin's voice rose, eyes wide and imploring. "Something moved down there, Jinnie. I saw it!"

Hyunjin heaved a frustrated sigh that seemed to start from his toes, rising to his feet with the languid grace of someone who'd rather be anywhere else. "Probably just some animal. A rat or…" he said absently, his voice trailing off as an almost inhuman eye, several veins burst and wide with terror, met his through the crack. He stumbled backward, boots scuffing against the weathered floorboards, fingers already fumbling for the worn leather hilt of his dagger.

"Move!" he hissed at Seungmin, the silver blade of his dagger catching the dim light as he drew it from its sheath with a whisper of steel.

Seungmin stood and his palm shot out, pressing against Hyunjin's chest, feeling his brother's racing heartbeat beneath his fingertips.

"Stop! You're going to scare it! Help me," he pleaded, gesturing toward the splintered boards with dirt-smudged fingers.

Hyunjin groaned, a sound like grinding stones, but dropped to his knees beside his baby brother, the fight leaving him in an instant because arguing with Seungmin was like arguing with an orc. Together, their hands worked to pry up a large board.

Eventually, the plank came loose with a shower of rust-colored dust and dried blood, splinters scraping Hyunjin's palms as he tossed it aside. The ancient wood creaked in protest, revealing a glimpse of darkness beyond, but they needed to remove another plank for a better look.

"Seungmin! Weapon at the ready!" Hyunjin warned sharply, his voice tense. A muscle twitched in his jaw, perturbed that his brother would forget such an elementary precaution.

Seungmin nodded resolutely, fingers wrapping around the worn leather grip of his dagger, unsheathing it. Together, they pulled against the second plank, muscles straining until it finally gave way with a splintering crack.

The darkness of the crawl space yielded its secrets slowly as their eyes adjusted to the gloom. What was believed to be a trapped animal revealed itself to be something far more heartbreaking— a boy, barely ten or eleven, sitting rigidly upright as if petrified, his knees drawn to his chest. His face was a canvas of grime and dried blood, streaked where tears had cut paths through days of accumulated filth. Matted hair stuck to his forehead in clumps, and his clothes hung loosely from his bony frame. The boy's eyes, wide and feral, reflected what little light penetrated this forgotten space. His chest heaved with each ragged breath as he held forward a small pocket knife. His hands, covered in scratches and dirt under cracked fingernails, trembled violently, betraying both his fear and exhaustion.

Hyunjin's lips curled into a soft smile, a quiet huff of air escaping him. The sound wasn't derisive. Rather, it carried a note of gentle wonder, almost reverence for the fierce survival instinct and resilience burning in such a small vessel. His eyes crinkled at the corners with something like recognition.

"Easy with that blade, warrior," he said, sitting back on his haunches, his voice warm with admiration. "Your form is all wrong. Your elbow’s too high and your grip’s too tight. Makes your hand shake. Come with us, and I'll show you how to hold it properly."

Seungmin shot Hyunjin a sidelong glance, the corners of his mouth tightening with annoyance, though understanding softened his eyes. He turned his attention back to the boy huddled in the crawlspace. His expression melted like snow beneath spring sunshine as he tossed his weapon aside and lowered himself onto his stomach, the floorboards rough against his chest. He extended his open palms into the dark hole, clean compared to the blood-spattered surroundings, ensuring the boy recognized he meant no harm.

"We’re not going to hurt you," he promised, each syllable measured and sincere, hanging in the putrid air. "We're here to help, okay? To get you somewhere safe and clean and warm. What’s your name?”

The boy remained motionless, his hollow cheeks smeared with grime and dried tears, wide eyes reflecting the dim light like a cornered fawn, pupils dilated with terror, and puny muscles coiled tight as a spring trap ready to snap.

Seungmin propped himself up on his elbows, the rough wood digging into his skin as he maintained unwavering eye contact, his voice as gentle as a breeze through summer leaves.

"Don't you want a bath and food?" Seungmin offered, hope threading through his words.

The child's chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. His eyes, crusted with dried tears and blood, refused to even blink as though closing them for even a heartbeat might mean missing his only chance to defend against the fate that had already claimed everyone he loved.

Seungmin's voice brightened, his eyes crinkling at the corners like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. "We live in a huge castle on a mountain. Sometimes, you can even touch a cloud from my bedroom window! We have a big courtyard and play games there almost every evening. I’ll even let you win some!" He chuckled— the sound genuine and pure, without a hint of cruelty— patting the floor in front of him, coaxing rather than commanding before leaning closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "We get to stay up as late as we want, and sometimes the chefs sneak us extra desserts." He nodded as if it were a blood oath, his face so earnest that Felix felt his own throat threaten to close.

If this is where Seungmin and Jeongin’s bond began, it was no wonder the boy, now a man, still clung to Seungmin like a barnacle on the hull of a storm-wrecked ship.

Felix pressed a palm to his chest, as if to steady his own heart.

At the mention of food, the boy's hollow stomach clenched audibly in the silence. His cracked lips parted, tongue darting out to wet them— a reflex born of days without sustenance. A thin line of saliva glistened at the corner of his mouth before he hastily wiped it away with a grimy, shaky hand, embarrassment briefly overtaking fear in his sunken eyes.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth pulling downward into a scowl that carved deep lines beside his lips. "Speak for yourself," he commented, voice laced with annoyance. "Some of us don't have time for stupid games and desserts." His fingers tightened around his dagger's hilt.

Felix watched the memory unfold, wondering why Hyunjin felt the need for such ill-timed, barbed remarks even to the present day, but then the image of Hyunjin's mother flashed in his mind— her elegant, calloused fingers forcing him face down into the water in punishment for what she deemed as weakness, the bubbles of desperate breath escaping his lips as he learned that vulnerability meant retribution. It made sense now. Heart-shattering sense.

Seungmin's eyes narrowed to unimpressed slits as he glared sideways at Hyunjin before he looked back at the boy, his expression softening immediately.

Hyunjin's shoulders slumped slightly, the hard line of his mouth softening. He dragged his forearm over his sweat-dampened forehead, understanding dawning belatedly in his eyes that this was not the time for brotherly jabs.

Hyunjin's voice softened to barely above a whisper. "Are these your parents?" He gestured toward the two bodies face down floorboards. Their blood had seeped and poured through the cracks, bathing the boy below like a macabre baptism. Two of the woman's slender fingers had pushed through the narrow gap, frozen in their final act. Not reaching for comfort in her last moments, but offering it instead, shielding her son until the very end as her lifeblood rained down upon him.

The boy's only response was a silence so heavy it seemed to press against their eardrums.

"Go get Minho," Seungmin instructed, his voice firm as he kept his gaze fixed on the child.

Guilt flashed across Hyunjin's face, flooding his skin with crimson that crept from his neck to the tips of his ears. His eyes— dark as midnight and usually sharp with confidence— now darted away. His fingers twitched at his sides, curling and uncurling. Felix could almost see the thoughts churning behind that furrowed brow: the desperate calculations of a boy who'd learned survival before communication, who'd memorized the weight of weapons before the weight of words. He wasn't snide and combative by choice but by design. He was a mirror reflecting the harsh world that had shaped him. He was only a child himself, after all. One that shouldn't have been here, boots sticky with half-dried blood, treating the site of tortured corpses as routine as breakfast.

Hyunjin nodded once, the motion sharp, before rising to his feet in one fluid, practiced motion and darting outside, where his boots crunched rhythmically on the blood-crusted dirt, each step punctuating the silence like a morbid heartbeat.

Tangled between the floorboards, Seungmin noticed a few strands of the woman's hair, a shade of ginger so vibrant it seemed to glow against the dark wood, even beneath the crusted layers of dried blood. This unmistakable color, like autumn leaves at sunset, was something he’d never seen back in Levanter, where such fiery hues were never seen among the native dark-haired population. The boy's matted locks, though saturated with the same crimson horror that painted his skin and tattered clothes, revealed identical hints of that distinctive ginger, a signature more binding than any proclamation that this quivering, wide-eyed child had indeed sprung from her womb.

Seungmin's face grew solemn, tears gathering like the morning dew on his dark lashes. His fingers shook slightly as he reached for the cross pendant lying beside him on the blood-spattered floorboards. The tarnished silver chain dangled from his fingers, the metal cross spinning slowly in the musty air. The pendant itself glinted as he extended it toward the tremoring boy.

"I'm sorry about your parents," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Would you like to keep this? Or would you prefer it with your mother when we send her spirit onward with the pyre?”

The child's chapped lips parted, then pressed together in a bloodless line before a small, wounded sound like that of a dying sparrow escaped his constricted throat. His shoulders hunched forward as if absorbing a physical blow, yet his spine remained rigid, unwilling to collapse completely before these armed strangers.

“Back home, my brothers are always training, and my parents don't like me wandering off," Seungmin continued, words tumbling out in a desperate cascade. His voice brightened artificially, like weak winter sunlight struggling through storm clouds. "I don't have many friends, you know?" His fingers fidgeted with a loose thread on his sleeve, twisting it until the fabric puckered. "It would be nice to have someone else around my age. How old are you?" The question hung in the blood-scented air. "We could pull some gags on my brothers and their friends… like putting salt in their tea or bugs in their boots." A nervous laugh escaped his throat. "And… you can learn to fight. And perhaps, one day, you can make those elves pay for what they did here." His eyes darkened momentarily before he forced them wide and hopeful again. "I can even show you a real-life dragon!" Seungmin's hand was unshaking as he extended it into the crawlspace, his fingertips illuminated by the shaft of dusty light between them, creating five small beacons, a bridge across the chasm of loss, reaching toward the traumatized boy.

After an excruciatingly long minute passed between them, the boy's hand spasmed around the knife with the strain. His eyes— wide with terror, yet somehow ancient with grief— darted between Seungmin's outstretched fingers and the bodies above. A strangled sound escaped his throat as he finally lowered the blade. His small chest heaved with each ragged breath as he reached his free hand forward with agonizing slowness, fingers unfurling like the petals of a flower blooming in darkness, until they latched onto Seungmin's— the first touch of kindness he'd felt since his world ended. The grip was desperate, almost clawing, as if Seungmin's warm hand was the only thing in all the world keeping the lost boy from plunging into the void after his murdered parents.

The two children stayed like that for a long moment— Seungmin pressed flat to the floor, the boy’s grime-caked hand bound to his. Neither moved. The air was heavy with loss, thick with the certainty that everything sacred had perished. And yet, in Seungmin’s unflinching grasp, the boy felt the faintest hope that not all was lost and that somewhere beneath the ruin, the world still held warmth, and there existed hands that chose to hold instead of harm.

Chapter Text

The world lurched violently, spinning around Felix like a storm. For a moment, he couldn’t tell up from down. His knees buckled, nausea curling in his gut. Then—stillness.

As he caught his breath, heaving, he found himself in the same cabin, but transformed— the bloodstains gone, replaced by scattered clothes and the soft sounds of domestic life.

A woman moved through the room, gathering laundry into a wicker basket. "I wish he'd inherited your eyes instead of your messiness," she called, laughing, her voice warm with affection.

A man's chuckle drifted from the bedroom in response.

Felix recognized her, but not from memory. Rather, from Jeongin. Felix couldn't look away from her face— those high cheekbones, those distinctive foxy eyes that were somehow both narrow and large. Her features had previously been masked in carnage, but here, in this unmarred fragment of time, the truth was undeniable. This woman was unmistakably Yang Jeongin's mother. And she had given him everything— his eyes, the pigment of his hair, his laughter, the tilt of his smile.

"Well, if he's late for class yet again, that’s a you trait," the man called out.

With a dismissive snort, she stepped outside. Felix watched as she trailed from the cabins to a vast, open meadow.

There, a group of children was kicking a battered leather ball across the grass, their laughter bright and untamed. Among them was Jeongin— scrawny, light on his feet, and cheeks flushed with joy. The boy’s grin was wide and alive, his voice high and unbroken. He was free, untouched by war or grief or memory.

Felix felt his heart clench and unravel all at once. It hurt just to look at him. The light in his eyes. The total lack of fear.

His mother watched him from beneath the shade of an enormous oak, her smile crinkling the corners of her eyes, her laughter a melody that carried on the crisp morning breeze as he stumbled after the ball with the other children. She leaned against the rough bark, seemingly content to remain rooted to that spot until nightfall if it meant witnessing every triumphant grin, every determined furrow of his brow.

The scene pierced Felix with contradictory sensations— a warmth spreading through his chest even as his throat constricted with grief.

Had his parents ever once looked at him like that? The question tore through Felix like a serrated knife. He remembered the royal gardens, where he and the other court children would play until Jisung appeared— dark-haired, toothy, and beaming— and within seconds, servants would materialize to whisk the other children away. The memory of those retreating backs burned now, though back then, he'd been selfishly glad to have Jisung all to himself. It was Jisung's mother who would watch them from beneath the cherry trees, her eyes following her son with such fierce devotion it seemed to physically radiate from her body. Meanwhile, the throne room where Felix's parents held court remained not far from where they played—close enough to hear children's laughter, and yet, they never came. Not once. Not even for a moment. Only now did the absence carve a void in him so profound he could feel it hollowing out his chest. Jisung's mother had roared like a dragon, chasing them until they collapsed in breathless heaps, while his own parents couldn't spare a single minute to simply observe their child being happy.

But then, this woman, as well as Jisung’s mother, was not a queen burdened with the weight of a realm balanced precariously on her shoulders. These women had time to spare. They had the luxury of tenderness. Perhaps that was the difference. Perhaps what he was feeling now was unfair to his parents. Or at least, that’s what he told himself, because the alternative tasted too bitter to swallow.

Now he stood in Miroh, aware he was witnessing sunlight before storm clouds, innocence before devastation. These were Jeongin's final moments of wholeness, preserved like insects in amber, before blood would stain the ground and drive a hole into the boy’s heart forever.

“Innie, darling, you haven't even eaten breakfast. Come on!" she called, her voice like warm honey.

Jeongin groaned but scurried over obediently, his small bare feet slapping against the dewy grass. He stumbled over a hidden root, arms pinwheeling for balance. His mother chuckled, pressing her palm over her face where laugh lines crinkled around her fox-like eyes.

Rising sunlight peeked over the horizon, reflecting on something in the grass— a metallic wink that drew her attention. She crossed the clearing, her homespun dress swishing around her knees, and bent to retrieve a silver pendant shaped like a cross, the color of its gemstones shifting in the dim morning light. Her brow furrowed as she held it up to Jeongin with a frown, the chain dangling between her slender fingers.

Jeongin's gaze fell on the necklace dangling from her fingers. His small hands flew to his throat, patting the empty space beneath his collar. His fingers worked frantically against the fabric, eyes widening with dawning horror.

"Oh no!" His voice cracked, face draining of color. "Is it broken?! I didn't know it came off! Really!" Each word tumbled faster than the last, his shoulders hunching inward. The morning breeze ruffled his unruly ginger hair as he stared up at her, mistaking her furrowed brow for anger.

She shook her head, pulling him in to lean upon her. Her work-worn fingers carded through his hair, lingering at the nape of his neck. "Calm down, darling. I can put it on a new chain, okay? But you need to be more responsible with your things. Do you know how many hours I spent forging this while pregnant with you?" She tilted her head, the rising sun catching the sun-bleached highlights in her hair.

His eyes— so much like hers— welled with tears that clung to his lashes like morning dew. "I'm sorry..." he whispered, lower lip jutting out and trembling. A single tear carved a glistening path down his cheek.

In that moment, Felix realized that he was witnessing the roots of Jeongin's nature. This wasn't just the boy before trauma, but the template upon which later horrors would build. It was apparent now that he was always timid and sheepish. Anxiety had been woven into his being, perhaps at birth, long before tragedy tore his world apart. The trauma hadn't created his timidity. It had merely found fertile ground in which to grow its thorns.

But her reaction— this fierce, unwavering love that refused to punish vulnerability— was likely still the only thing standing between the boy and complete emotional collapse, the sole barrier that had kept his spirit from being crushed into dust. Felix wondered if her love and support had carved itself into Jeongin's very marrow, surviving even as she was ripped from his world. If perhaps it had become his phantom limb, aching in its absence, yet somehow still guiding his every movement through the wreckage of his life.

The scene cleaved Felix in two. He mourned the child who would lose her, and envied him for ever having had her at all.

The woman's laughter was melodic like silver wind chimes as she pulled her son against her chest, his small frame vanishing into the faded blue cotton of her dress. The scent of wildflowers and baking bread clung to her skin.

"Don't cry," she whispered, her calloused thumb brushing away the tear tracks on his sun-kissed cheeks. "It was an accident. Accidents happen to everyone. I am not upset with you." She cradled the back of his head, her fingers threading through his hair as she pressed her lips to his temple. "I just want to help you prevent it from happening again. Come on, talk to me. Can you think of anything you could do to keep it safe while you play?" she murmured, her fox-like eyes crinkling with patient affection.

Jeongin pulled away, scrubbing at his damp cheeks with grubby knuckles. His breath hitched with each inhale. "I can take it off before I play," he offered, voice small and uncertain as a fledgling bird.

A sweet smile spread across the woman's face as she nodded. "Yes! See! That's a good start! Just don't set it haphazardly around like you do everything else," she chuckled, the sound accompanied by the morning birdsong.

Felix watched, transfixed by their interaction, seeing the seeds of the man Jeongin would become taking root in this gentle guidance. The boy's shoulders relaxed incrementally with each word from his mother, his breathing steadying like a ship finding harbor after a storm. This was where it began— the steady hands that would one day hold a scalpel, the measured calm that would anchor him in surgery when others might falter.

"And stop growing up so fast! You're getting so tall!" she exclaimed, pulling him into an even tighter embrace that enveloped his small frame completely. Her lips pressed against his crown, lingering there as though trying to memorize the scent of childhood that still clung to him.

The moment was shattered when several children gasped in unison, their voices rising in a chorus of wonder and confusion. All heads swiveled toward the horizon that shimmered like a mirage in the strengthening sunlight. The woman's arms fell away from Jeongin, her expression shifting from maternal tenderness to alert curiosity as she stepped forward, one hand instinctively reaching back to keep her son guarded.

The morning sun crested, its golden rays backlighting an approaching army that seemed torn from the pages of a storybook. Foreign soldiers advanced in perfect formation, their diamond-encrusted breastplates throwing off prisms of light with each movement. Their pristine silver and white uniforms remained impossibly unstained despite, and beneath them, trotted creatures these Mirohi children believed existed only in tales— unicorns with coats like fresh snow and spiraling horns that gleamed like polished silver.

Felix stood frozen, mouth slightly agape, his mind refusing to process the spectacle. The scene before him oscillated between breathtaking beauty and terrifying portent, like watching a lightning storm roll across a peaceful meadow.

What he witnessed, his rational mind rejected outright.

Leading the procession was a face that sent ice through Felix's veins— Sir Augustus, his family's once-trusted knight, whose life Felix had personally terminated mere days ago after discovering the man's sullied hands on Hyunjin. Yet here he rode, flesh intact, spine straight as a lance, his golden hair catching the light as he descended upon Miroh with cold, calculating eyes. Behind him, at least a hundred Feloran soldiers moved in stride, their armor gleaming in the morning light. The massive silk banner they carried rippled in the breeze, its white, crowned unicorn emblem seeming almost alive as golden thread caught the sunlight.

"Are those elves?!" A child's voice pierced the stunned silence.

"I didn't think they were real!" Another gasped.

"—wow!—"

"—unicorns!—"

"—so badass—"

"—so many of them—"

"—do you think—”

“—magic—”

“—visiting us—”

Jeongin's mother's face transformed from wonder to horror in an instant. She spun around, her skirts whirling, and lunged for her son. Her fingers closed around his thin wrist with such desperate force that when she yanked him backward, his feet tangled beneath him. He crashed to the ground with a pained yelp, dirt smudging his cheek. She dropped to her knees beside him, hands trembling as they frantically brushed debris from his clothes, her eyes never leaving the approaching army.

“Oh, I'm so sorry, baby! Are you okay? I'm so sorry!"

As they stood, she shouted with such force that veins bulged at her temples, her face contorting with terror. "EVERYONE RUN! RUN TO YOUR HOMES! NOW! RUN!"

Time crystallized. Children abandoned their toys that clattered on the ground. Women clutched infants to heaving chests, skirts billowing as they fled. Jeongin's mother dragged him along, her fingernails leaving crescent moons in his wrist as they disappeared just before the soldiers bombarded the village.

They hit like a cinderblock fallen from a tower— a sudden, devastating force that crushed body and soul with equal indifference. The soldiers swept through like a tide of calculated brutality, their movements precise as a butcher's knife separating flesh from bone. The unicorns' pearlescent horns dripped crimson within seconds. The soldiers' pristine uniforms became splattered canvases of vermilion and tissue. A boy no older than seven, his straw-colored hair still tousled from playing, crumpled like a marionette with cut strings, his head rolling toward a water trough where daisies floated on the surface.

Felix's lungs seized, acid climbing his throat as he witnessed a soldier drive a jewel-encrusted sword through a woman's pregnant belly. Her scream cut short as blood bubbled between her lips. His knees locked, muscles petrified as if turned to stone by some ancient curse. The metallic tang of blood hung in the air, mingling with the scent of fresh bread still baking in abandoned ovens. He'd never witnessed such cruelty committed firsthand. He'd read accounts in leather-bound history books, seen stylized paintings of distant battles where crimson splashes seemed almost beautiful against canvas. Those sanitized versions made it easy to detach when victims were simply nameless, faceless characters whose deaths felt as inconsequential as insects crushed underfoot. But these weren't distant historical figures in scrolls— these were people who had names, dreams, who had just moments ago been laughing in the morning sun. The wild Miroh "savages" he'd been taught to disregard stood no chance against this calculated slaughter. They hadn't even grabbed pitchforks in defense.

Felix watched as a soldier—a man who once shared wine with Felix's father at their family table— trampled a woman whose fingers clawed desperately at the unicorn's pearlescent flank. Her copper hair fanned out in the dirt as the beast's hooves came down. The sickening crack of her sternum echoed like brittle kindling snapping. Crimson spurted from her mouth, staining her teeth as she gasped for air that would never reach her lungs again. Her eyes, the same color as her hair, remained fixed on her child— a boy, barely aged from toddler to child, with her same copper curls— who screamed until his voice broke.

Felix manifested deeper into the carnage. Bottles wrapped in oil-soaked rags arced through the sky, trailing smoke like dying comets before crashing through thatched roofs. The flames spread with unnatural hunger, devouring wooden homes in seconds. A young couple burst through their burning doorway, the father cradling a swaddled infant against his chest. A soldier instantly snatched the bundle with gauntleted hands. The mother's fingers grasped empty air as he hurled the child back into the inferno. Her wail— shrill, guttural— pierced Felix's eardrums like physical pain, a sound he knew would haunt his dreams for years to come.

His knees buckled. Bile scorched the back of his throat as tears carved hot trails down his cheeks. He pressed trembling fingers against his lips, tasting salt and ash. The sound that escaped him was animal, wounded. He staggered backward, boots slipping in mud turned to rust with blood, then spun and fled. The wind lashed his face like tiny whips, each breath burning in his lungs as he ran blindly, refusing to look back even as the screams pursued him. His foot caught on a stone, sending him sprawling. His palms slammed roughly into loamy earth, fingernails filling with soil as he broke his fall. When he raised his head, gasping for air, the world had transformed again. Dense pines towered around him, their needles whispering secrets overhead. No flames. No screams. Just the gentle percussion of a woodpecker somewhere in the distance.

Chapter Text

Felix's vision clouded with tears that burned like acid. He wiped them away with unsteady hands and raised his head to find Hyunjin several paces away, facing a pine tree. The boy's shoulders tensed as he finished relieving himself, the sound of liquid hitting forest debris mixing with distant birdsong.

The dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy illuminated Hyunjin's silhouette—his frame still boyish, lacking the broad shoulders and hardened muscle of his adult self. His hair was styled in the same manner Felix had witnessed in the earlier vision, confirming this memory existed in the same timeframe. Before Felix could orient himself further, movement caught his eye as Seungmin emerged from between two towering oaks, his two hands guiding Jeongin by the shoulders. The younger boy's body was scrubbed clean of blood and cloaked in a cape too large for his frame, though his eyes remained hollow, haunted by horrors no child should witness. Their boots crushed pine needles as they walked.

Behind them trailed a man whose shadow seemed to stretch unnaturally across the forest floor. He moved with arrogance, his weathered face bearing a subtle resemblance to Seungmin, though twisted by something cruel that never touched the boy's features, even in the later years when Seungmin spat his prejudices.

Seungmin and Jeongin continued on through the forest, but the man halted directly behind Hyunjin, who hastily buttoned his pants with fingers that betrayed a slight tremble.

When Hyunjin attempted to follow the younger boys, the man's hand shot out like a viper, fingers digging into the worn leather of Hyunjin's vest with such force that the material creaked in protest.

A surge of protectiveness flooded Felix's veins like wildfire. He scrambled to his feet, brushing damp soil from his knees, and circled around a cluster of ferns to gain a clearer vantage point.

"What?" Hyunjin snarled, whipping around to face his captor. His eyes flashed dangerously, pupils constricting to pinpoints. "We are in the middle of nowhere. I could rip your fucking throat out right now and claim an orc did it, you know!" The threat hung in the air between them, each syllable dripping with venom that seemed far too potent for a child's tongue.

The commander towered over Hyunjin, his face creasing into a smile that never reached his eyes. "Aye, you could and you should..." he drawled, voice like gravel scraping metal, "but alas... you remain a slave to your weaknesses..." His tongue darted across cracked lips as he crossed arms over his chest, the embroidered cuffs of his dirty tunic blending with skin darkened by sun and violence. His gaze never left the boy, drinking in every nervous twitch of Hyunjin's fingers, every flicker of defiance that crossed the boy’s face.

Felix's insides turned to ice, a cold knot in his abdomen, when Hyunjin's trembling fingers reached reluctantly for the man's leather belt. The man caught his wrist mid-motion, his weathered hand engulfing the boy's slender bones like a vise. A cruel smile split his cracked lips.

"Eager, are we?" The words slithered from his mouth like oil on water.

Hyunjin wrenched his arm free, the sleeve of his threadbare tunic riding up to reveal yellowing bruises in the shape of fingerprints. "Eat shit and die, you sick fuck," he spat spitefully.

Felix's throat constricted at the implications hanging between them. The profanity from such young lips shocked him— words that belonged in tavern brawls, not in a child's vocabulary— and more disturbing still was how the man's eyes glittered with amusement rather than rage.

"I'm not here for pleasure." The man's voice dropped an octave, resonating through the clearing like distant thunder. "I have a task for you. Prove yourself useful and do not disappoint me. Get rid of it." Each word fell like a headsman's ax, precise and final.

Confusion flickered across Hyunjin's face, mirroring Felix's own bewilderment. The boy's jaw clenched, a muscle twitching beneath skin still smooth with youth. He crossed his arms defensively across his narrow chest, one eyebrow arching upward as he waited, pine needles crunching beneath his shifting weight.

"The Mirohi. He's the only survivor." The man gestured vaguely toward the path where Jeongin had disappeared. "You know Soyi will want to keep him. Seungmin is already getting attached, and that cannot happen. When Minho inevitably ends up on the throne and his incompetence fails Levanter, the people will want Seungmin to lead. There can be no distractions. No friends. More importantly, no competition." His eyes narrowed to obsidian slits. "So at our next stop, eliminate the boy discreetly."

A muscle jumped in Hyunjin's jaw. He scoffed, rolling his eyes, but something troubled stirred in their depths like creatures moving beneath frozen lake water. "Do it yourself, asshole."

He pivoted on his heel, but before he could take a single step, the man's arm shot out like a striking serpent. Hyunjin crashed backward, pine needles and damp earth spraying as he landed hard enough to force the air from his lungs. Before he could recover, the man hauled him upward by his collar, fabric tearing at the seams, and slammed him against a pine trunk. His calloused hand clamped around the boy's throat, thumb pressing into the hollow where pulse fluttered wildly like a trapped bird. Hyunjin's boots kicked uselessly inches above the forest floor, his face flushing crimson, then draining to a sickly gray hue as his fingernails clawed desperately at the immovable arm.

"Do you want me to summon the dragon?" The man's whisper carried the heat of a forge, flecks of spittle landing on Hyunjin's face. "Have it tear through Minho, Seungmin, the boy, and all our men alike?!" His laughter bubbled up like something rotten breaking the surface of a swamp, eyes gleaming with a madness that made Felix's blood freeze in his veins.

Without hesitation, terror flooded young Hyunjin's face, and he shook his head with such violence that droplets of sweat scattered. The man's fingers uncurled one by one from Hyunjin's throat, leaving behind irritated imprints that would soon darken to bruises. He tossed the boy onto the forest floor as carelessly as one might discard a broken toy, the impact sending a cloud of pine needles and dirt billowing around Hyunjin's crumpled form. A wet, guttural laugh escaped the man.

"Your loyalty is misplaced, boy. I will break you," he said, voice like steel scraping over stone. "See to it that the boy dies. If he’s still breathing by the time we return home, I'll show you just how fucking worthless and weak you are." Each syllable dripped with venom as he loomed over Hyunjin, his shadow engulfing the boy entirely. The forest seemed to darken around them, sunlight retreating as if afraid to witness what unfolded beneath the ancient pines.

Hyunjin's lungs fought for air in shallow, desperate gasps that evolved into a series of violent coughs. His fingertips clawed at the raw skin of his throat, pressing against his windpipe as if to manually force it open. A string of saliva hung from his lower lip before he twisted onto his side and emptied his stomach— a pitiful splash of bile that steamed slightly.

The man's lip curled in disgust. He sidestepped the puddle of sick, boots leaving deep impressions in the soft earth as he turned to leave. Three steps away, he froze at the sound of a muffled whimper that seemed to hang in the stillness between them.

He pivoted slowly, his face a mask of cruel curiosity.

Hyunjin lay in the dirt, shoulders curved inward like a wounded animal. His lower lip trembled uncontrollably, and a single tear escaped from the corner of his bloodshot eye, carving a clean path through the grime on his cheek before falling into the dirt below, where it disappeared, leaving only a dark pinprick in the soil— a tiny grave for his innocence.

Felix's lungs clenched painfully at the sight. This task—this burden, this murder—was a weight no child should bear, a darkness that would corrupt even the purest soul. The man who demanded this atrocity was meant to be the orphan's saviour, yet he commanded Hyunjin to inflict the same horror that had just befallen Jeongin's people. For what? Political convenience? The paradox twisted in his mind— Jeongin stood alive before him now, yet here in this memory, his death was being orchestrated. What chain of events had spared him? And at what cost to Hyunjin?

"Pathetic," the man spat, the word landing like a physical blow. "Only weak boys cry."

He turned and stalked away, his figure dissolving between the trees like smoke, leaving Hyunjin alone. The boy's shoulders began to shake with silent sobs that gradually grew in intensity until they echoed through the clearing— raw sounds of grief and shame that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than his throat.

Felix recognized the cadence and cruelty of the man's parting words—identical to those he'd overheard in the memory that morning. The realization crystallized in his veins: this was the same monster, another architect of Hyunjin's suffering.

Before Felix could draw another ragged breath, the memory warped and flung him into Hyunjin's castle bedchamber, where moonlight sliced through half-drawn curtains, illuminating the horror unfolding on the cold stone floor. The man's knuckles—split and glistening with both his own blood and Hyunjin's—connected with the boy's jaw with a sickening crack that echoed off the ceiling. Spittle and crimson droplets arced through the air, spattering against the tapestried wall.

Felix’s chest hollowed as he watched Hyunjin roll onto his stomach to spit out thick crimson mucus. The boy's eyes— swollen nearly shut, one blackened to a plum-dark crescent— stared vacantly at nothing. Each labored breath whistled through his broken nose, bubbling with blood that streamed over his split lips and dripped from his chin onto the floor. Yet his arms remained limp, fingers splayed and trembling against the floor as boot after boot crashed into his ribs, his stomach, his thighs. The sobs that tore from his throat were animalistic, raw, primal, and devoid of dignity or hope.

Felix fell to his knees, the phantom stone somehow solid beneath him. His throat burned as he realized he was screaming— matching Hyunjin's cries with his own. The dissonance between this broken child and the lethal warrior he knew— the man whose blood oath he had taken— shattered something fundamental within Felix's chest. His vision blurred, hot tears carving paths down his cheeks as he lunged forward uselessly, hands outstretched toward the boy whose blood now pooled beneath him, whose nightshirt hung in tatters from his thin, bruise-mottled shoulders.

Felix's stomach lurched even more violently than ever when the man seized Hyunjin by his torn collar, yanking him upright with such force that the boy's bare feet barely skimmed the cold stone floor. The man's weathered hand, knuckles still slick with blood, slammed the boy face-first against the unforgiving wall. Moonlight caught the spittle that flew from his mouth as he laughed— a sound like glass breaking underfoot.

"If you thought putting it in your mouth was disgusting, let me introduce you to something so much worse!" His voice dropped to a guttural whisper that seemed to darken the very air. He dragged Hyunjin across the room, boots scraping against the floor, before hurling him onto the four-poster bed. The boy's thin body bounced once against the mattress before the man flipped him onto his stomach across the ornately carved footboard, pressing him down until the wood bit into his bruised ribs. With practiced efficiency, he captured both of Hyunjin's trembling wrists in one massive hand, twisting them painfully behind the boy's back until the joints strained white against his skin.

"Wh—What are you doing?!" Hyunjin's voice cracked, high and childlike despite the blood bubbling between his swollen lips, his one visible eye wide with a terror that transcended physical pain.

"Showing you the only thing such weaklings like yourself are good for," the man hissed, his free hand moving to his belt buckle, the metal clinking with terrible finality in the quiet room.

Felix couldn’t take it any longer. He lunged forward, a scream tearing from his throat that seemed to come from somewhere outside himself. His fingers stretched toward the boy, close enough to almost feel the fabric of Hyunjin's nightshirt, when the memory dissolved like ink in water. Colors swirled, shapes reformed, and suddenly Felix stood trembling violently before an adult Jeongin and Seungmin. The doctor’s warm hand still clasped his own, his eyes filled with concern that quickly morphed to alarm.

Felix gasped for air, his chest heaving as if he'd been drowning. Tears spilled hot and uncontrollable down his face, blurring his vision until he blinked them away. His gaze dropped instinctively to Jeongin's collar, where the silver cross hung on a delicate chain— gleaming, untarnished, impossibly whole— as though it had never been clutched in the desperate fingers of a dying woman as her village burned around her.

Jeongin's voice reached him through a fog. "Felix?" The doctor's eyes were wide with alarm, his brows drawn together in concern as he leaned closer.

The sound of his own name struck Felix as surreal—a jarring reminder that he existed outside the horrors he'd just witnessed, that he wasn't merely a ghost drifting through memories of atrocities.

His chest constricted as if iron bands were tightening around his ribs. The rage and devastation churned inside him like molten metal, scorching his insides until his skin felt too tight to contain it. Without a word, he wrenched his quivering hand from Jeongin's gentle grasp and bolted, his boots skidding against the stone floor as he fled.

In the corridor, Felix veered toward the nearest exit, desperate for fresh air, when the echo of raucous laughter bounced off the ancient walls. He flinched as if struck and pivoted sharply, his shoulder scraping against the rough stone as he careened down a dimly lit passageway. He ran blindly, each ragged breath burning in his lungs, past tapestries depicting battles he no longer knew the truth of, beneath candelabras that cast dancing shadows across his tear-streaked face. Self-loathing coiled in his gut—for still being ignorant of the castle's layout, for the cruel words he'd hurled at Jeongin, for the blood-soaked images now branded into his mind. As he rounded a corner, his boots slid on the slick floor, and he nearly collided with Changbin. The knight's familiar laugh died instantly at the sight of Felix, his expression morphing from mirth to concern. Felix's throat closed completely, choking off any possibility of explanation. With the desperation of a cornered animal, he lunged for the nearest door, fingers fumbling with the ornate handle before he stumbled inside, praying to find solitude rather than an occupied bedchamber.

To his relief—the only ounce of it—he had stumbled into what appeared to be a vast atelier, its vaulted ceiling crisscrossed with ancient beams. Canvases leaned in haphazard stacks against every wall, their edges gilt-framed or raw-edged, depicting dragons with scales that seemed to catch the light and shimmer like real serpents. Portraits of stern-faced nobles and battle scenes with horses frozen mid-rear crowded every available surface. The sweet-sharp scent of linseed oil and turpentine hung in the air, mingling with the musty perfume of old pigments. Finding the chamber blessedly empty, Felix collapsed onto the frigid floor, his palms slapping against the stone as his knees buckled. His lungs seized, each breath a ragged, whistling gasp that tore through his throat like broken glass. Hot tears splashed onto the backs of his hands as sobs wrenched themselves from his chest, each one more violent than the last.

The touch came without warning—warm fingers gripping his shoulder, the pressure firm but not cruel. Some feral instinct seized Felix's muscles before his mind could catch up. He snatched the offending wrist, twisting it with savage force until he heard a soft grunt of pain. His head snapped up, and his stomach plummeted as he found himself staring into the face he least wanted to see.

Hyunjin had already drawn his dagger, the movement so fluid it seemed the blade had simply materialized in his hand. He held it reversed, the gleaming steel catching the afternoon light that streamed through tall windows. His knees bent in a fighter's crouch, weight perfectly balanced despite Felix's grip on his arm. Though his posture screamed danger, his face remained a mask of eerie composure— only the slight widening of his eyes betraying his surprise. Those eyes traveled over Felix's face, taking in the ravaged landscape: cheeks slick and mottled red, eyelashes clumped into wet spikes, nostrils rimmed with red and glistening with mucus that had begun to trail toward his upper lip.

Felix's fingers dug into Hyunjin's forearm, feeling the corded muscle beneath the thick, fur sleeve. His own arm shook violently with the effort of maintaining his grip, even as his chest heaved with sobs he couldn't swallow back. They caught in his throat like fish bones, choking him, forcing their way out in ugly, broken sounds.

He tried to meet Hyunjin's gaze with defiance, but one look into those dark eyes and all he could see was that young boy from the memory— blood crusting at the corners of his split lips, purple bruises blooming across his skin, shoulders hunched in surrender as he accepted his fate. A child treated worse than a stray dog, viewed by both parental figures as nothing more than a sharpened blade to be wielded at their command. His humanity stripped away until only the weapon remained, his thoughts silenced, his wants irrelevant, his needs secondary, his consent nonexistent. It was no wonder these brothers, blood or not, formed an impenetrable fortress around one another. The realization sent Felix spiraling into darker questions— had Minho and Seungmin endured similar horrors behind closed doors? Presumably, Minho had been spared the particular cruelty from their mother he'd glimpsed in Hyunjin's memories that morning— memories that hung between them now like a terrible secret, something Felix had witnessed without permission and had no idea how to acknowledge. His throat closed at the thought of forming words around what he'd seen.

Felix's mind fractured under the weight of it all. His skull felt too small to contain the horror— the violation of Hyunjin not by one monster but two, with one being the same knight who had led the bloodbath that destroyed Jeongin's entire world. The realization slammed into him like a physical blow. Hyunjin had offered his own body to that soldier— a human sacrifice on the altar of protection— to spare Jeongin from those vicious hands. This commander that Felix once loathed, believed incapable of humanity and empathy, had endured unspeakable degradation for people he loved. No, not just those he loved, but even for a stranger in Jeongin. Hyunjin had allowed himself to be beaten to a pulp—raped—rather than take a life that should have meant nothing to him. Was it for Seungmin? Or something deeper? And Augustus—had he recognized Jeongin that night in the tent? Had he stalked into those shadows to finish what he'd started in Miroh? No. The truth was simpler, more sickening: the man was merely a predator. A deranged beast wearing human skin.

And fate was a fickle, merciless cunt.

Felix had learned that much already.

The tangled web of Hyunjin's trauma, Jeongin's trauma, even Seungmin's, perhaps Minho’s as well, was so much deeper, so much more ancient, woven into their bones before they'd breathed adult air.

Felix had wished a thousand cruel fates upon Hyunjin since their union— pictured his proud, smug face contorted in agony— but the reality of what had been done to him clawed at Felix's conscience like a rabid animal. No human deserved such wickedness. Especially not a child with volcanic ash-smudged cheeks and wild eyes, dragged from the wilderness into what should have been a sanctuary, only to be broken piece by piece, his small body a battlefield, his will crushed beneath boots that should have protected him.

Jeongin's fate twisted like a knife in Felix's gut— the boy's village reduced to ash and bone, the symphony of his parents' final screams echoing in his ears as their blood soaked into the earth. The injustice of it burned like acid in Felix's throat.

Could his father, King of Felora— his own flesh and blood— have authorized such butchery? The thought sent black spots dancing across his vision. His mind rejected it violently, like a body expelling poison. No. NO. His father could never—would never—

The room tilted sideways. Felix's lungs seized, throat closing as if invisible hands were crushing it. Dark spots swarmed his sight until he could only see pinpricks of light in a sea of darkness, while his ears filled with a cacophony of phantom screams—children begging, women wailing, men gurgling their last breaths through slit throats. His own pulse thundered, drowning him from within as his body convulsed with tremors he couldn't control.

Chapter Text

The forest crowded close, its tangled branches casting long shadows across the clearing. Nearby, the river whispered, threading silver through the stillness. Levanter's troops had shed their armor straps and sprawled in exhausted heaps after the day's march. Their provisions had grown scarce—the result of certain soldiers' gluttony earlier in the journey—but home was only a day and a half away. Minho tore his meager rations in half: a crust of bread, a sliver of salt pork. He pressed one portion into Jeongin's palm before dividing what remained between his brothers.

Hyunjin and Seungmin accepted Minho's offering without protest—they'd learned long ago that refusing would only result in their eldest brother pinning them down and forcing the food into their mouths. Jeongin, however, stared at his portion with wide eyes, fingers hovering as if afraid to touch something so precious.

Minho's eyebrow lifted. "Take it," he said, voice gentle but leaving no room for argument. "You need it more than I do."

Something twisted in Hyunjin's gut as he watched the orphan boy cup the meager scraps between his palms like a sacred offering, knowing the bread and meat would be the child's final meal.

Across the clearing, their father stood among his men rather than his sons. His laugh cut through the evening air—a sound that masked his cruelty but couldn't erase the words still echoing in Hyunjin's mind.

"Get rid of it."

Hyunjin abruptly stood, the movement sharp as a blade. He thrust his untouched portion—the dry bread crust and salt-crusted meat still warm from his palm—back into Minho's hands.

"Here. I'm good. Eat. I'm going for a walk."

Minho's brow furrowed and his lips parted to object, but something dangerous flickered behind Hyunjin's eyes—a silent warning, dark and volatile as storm clouds. Minho's mouth closed without a sound. Hyunjin stalked away, his leather boots crushing pine needles without so much as a whisper, each step as silent as a fox's paw on the forest floor.

The camp sounds—raucous laughter, metal scraping against whetstones, low murmurs of exhausted men—faded into the gathering dusk. The further he walked, the more each inhale scorched his throat, as if he were breathing in smoke instead of cool evening air, guilt burrowing through his lungs like rusted needles.

He thought of the child's grimy hands, trembling like leaves in a storm, refusing to let go of Seungmin's even after they pulled him from the crawl space. How Minho had carried him out the door of what was once his sanctuary, his home—a modest cabin with herbs hanging from ceiling beams—covering the boy's eyes with his palm so he would not witness the crimson-splattered massacre. The boy still hadn't spoken or smiled, his lips a pale, bloodless line in a face as hollow as a carved pumpkin left too long in the sun. Would he ever smile again? Of course not. Hyunjin had a job to do and had to do it quickly. He recalled the first night on their journey back to Levanter, how the child had clutched his silver cross pendant so hard his knuckles blanched white and his fingernails carved crescent moons into his palms until they wept blood. His eyes—resembling a fox’s—never focused when Hyunjin was cleaning his bloody palms with a cloth dampened from his waterskin. Those hands, so small and innocent, with fingernails bitten to the quick, had never wielded a blade, likely never even formed a fist in anger. Every time the child ate, he devoured everything at once, shoveling greasy meat and stale bread and hard cheese into his mouth so fast he would nearly choke, his throat working frantically, as if each bite might be torn away the way his parents were—ripped from the world in screams and the metallic stench of blood.

Hyunjin crumbled to his knees in the shadow of a towering white pine, its bark flaking like ancient parchment, and for one mad moment, considered unsheathing his leather-hilted dagger and slitting his own throat right there, cold steel against quivering flesh, quick and merciful, doing the world the favor of sparing it his wretched presence. The vision of his father's cruel laughter—teeth gleaming like a wolf's—echoed under his ribs, bouncing around in the hollow cage of his chest like a trapped bird. But Hyunjin had never been that brave. He curled his trembling fists into the damp forest floor, fingernails scraping through emerald moss and black loam, and wept in wild, silent convulsions that wracked his shoulders and stole his breath, biting the soft inside of his cheek until he tasted copper blooming over his tongue like poisoned honey. He sobbed until hot snot ran down his face in rivulets, until the salt-bitter tears ran out and left his eyes swollen, raw, and dry as sun-bleached bones.

He pounded the forest floor with his fists until his knuckles split and oozed crimson into the soil, the indifferent earth refusing to yield or punish him back, the ancient pines standing sentinel, unmoved by his violence. The sobs wrung him inside out, leaving him hollow as a cicada shell, shivering in the dappled twilight, a dull ache expanding through his belly like a slow-blooming bruise. He felt himself slipping away, the world wobbling at its edges as his vision clouded with a red haze and white-hot fury scorched through his veins. What was left to do but finish it? To do the horrible thing his father ordered—to wrap his trembling fingers around the orphan's throat and squeeze until those fox-like eyes dimmed forever? If he couldn't do it, the dragon coiled beneath his skin certainly could. It would be violent—brutal—blood spattering the moss like rain—but it would be done. So he began to surrender to the molten rage bubbling inside him, buzzing like hornets in his skull, burning through his chest cavity— the beast clawing to the surface, scales rippling beneath human flesh, aching to bear its jagged teeth.

Then a twig snapped, sharp as a bone breaking in the silence.

Hyunjin's head jerked up, tears still clinging to his lashes. His red-rimmed eyes caught the dying light, glowing scarlet as he snarled, lips peeling back from teeth that seemed too sharp in his contorted face. The orphan stood barely three feet away, small fingers clutching the hem of his ill-fitted shirt. Perfect. The lamb had delivered himself directly to the beast. This would make the slaughter so much cleaner.

But the boy's eyes held no terror, not even a flicker of alarm beneath those lashes. Instead, his thin face was etched with something far worse—concern, soft and genuine.

Hyunjin's chest heaved with uncontrollable sobs even as another snarl tore from his throat, the sound half-human and raw as a fresh wound.

Can't show weakness.

Can't show weakness.

Can't show weakness.

The boy stepped forward through the dappled shadows, each step deliberate as a prayer whispered in a cathedral. Pine needles crackled beneath his moccasins.

Hyunjin's breath caught like fine linen on blackthorn brambles, his lungs refusing to expand. What an idiotic, foolhardy child with those eyes unblinking in the twilight. Had he never seen a predator before, never witnessed the way a wounded wolf will tear apart anything that approaches? Had no one taught him that creatures in pain were the most dangerous of all, that kindness extended to monsters was simply an invitation for slaughter?

Just as the boy stepped within Hyunjin's reach, he extended his thin arm toward Hyunjin. His palm, dirty and crisscrossed with healing scratches, cradled half of the honey-brown roll he'd been given, the crust slightly dented from where his fingers had clutched it too tightly.

Hyunjin stared at it, every sinew and tendon in his body coiled tight as a serpent before the strike, but the small hand did not tremble or retract.

A mere scrap of bread.

The sickest irony in the world, Hyunjin thought—this boy, who had watched his family be slaughtered, who had been soaked crimson with their blood, and who had been shown no mercy, now offering sustenance to the instrument of his undoing.

Hyunjin wanted to scream at the absurdity of it, to hurl the bread into the loamy forest floor, to sink his teeth into the boy's throat until copper-warm blood flooded his mouth, to tear through his flesh—but what happened instead was that Hyunjin's own hand, already calloused and scarred from years of wielding blades, slowly, pathetically, unclenched. He took the bread between his thumb and forefinger, rough skin against soft crust, and for a heartbeat just stared at it, dumbstruck as a man witnessing his first sunrise after a lifetime of darkness.

Fury dissipated like morning mist over a lake, replaced by something much more dangerous: a yawning, bottomless shame that opened beneath him like a chasm lined with rusted spikes. He stared at the bread, crumbs catching on his bloodied knuckles, then at the boy. He could not remember the last time someone looked at him like that—watching him with no judgment, only a patient expectation, as if Hyunjin himself were something both precious and fragile as a robin's egg.

More tears burned their way down Hyunjin's face—hot and bitter as wildfire smoke yet cleansing as spring rain, though he did not understand it in that moment. He couldn't comprehend the shape of his own collapse, how something as simple as a child's offering of bread could gut a man more cleanly than the sharpest steel blade through butter.

He expected the boy to mock him as he knelt there, clutching the bread, tears carving hot channels down his cheeks, snot glistening in the dying forest light. Hyunjin braced for the cutting laugh, the cruel twist of lips that would mirror his father's contempt. Instead, the boy remained where he was, feet planted among pine needles and fallen leaves, eyes steady as twin moons in the gathering dusk. Then came the shift—a subtle softening around the child's mouth, a trembling exhale that barely disturbed the air. The boy dropped to his knees with a soft thud against the forest floor, leaves crunching beneath his weight, and before Hyunjin could recoil, those small arms—thin as saplings but surprisingly strong—encircled him, pulling him into an embrace that smelled of earth and innocence.

For a moment, Hyunjin thrashed in his grip like a netted fish, every muscle seizing up in anticipation of a knife between his ribs, a garrotte cinching around his throat, a trap springing shut. But there was nothing— just two thin arms like winter-bare branches, the orphan's chin against Hyunjin's shoulder, and the heat of a small body that wanted only to hold tight and not let go.

Hyunjin's own arms hovered in the air, fingers splayed and quivering like moth wings, before winding, helplessly, around the boy's frame. His tear-streaked face pressed into ginger hair that smelled of pine sap. The weight of the hug crushed him like an avalanche of forgiveness, or from Hyunjin's twisted perspective, the weight of judgment already passed, the sentence levied in the court of his own conscience, and he was found wanting. Found soft as rotting fruit, found incapable as a broken blade, found weak as watered wine.

Weak. That's what his mother had screamed in his face for years, and what the commander later whispered in the hollow of Hyunjin's ear, breath hot as dragon fire against his skin. Still, he allowed those small arms to anchor him to the moment like roots to soil, if only to remember what it felt like to be held without expectation or threat. The sobbing lessened to hiccupping breaths, and Hyunjin spoke softly, his voice cracked and raw as newly broken earth.

"What is your name?"

Jeongin," the boy whispered, voice so thin and small that it barely survived the trip through the air.

The name burned itself into Hyunjin's memory, a slow scribe across butchered nerves, each syllable etching itself into the raw tissue of his consciousness with the permanence of a blacksmith's brand on trembling flesh.

"Jeongin," he repeated, letting it linger on his tongue like the last drop of honeyed wine, sweet and sacred. "I promise, Jeongin… I swear… I will never hurt you."

Any slight consideration for what Hyunjin had been asked to do—kill the boy—caught in his throat and disintegrated like paper ash, replaced by a swelling, guilty conviction that lodged between his ribs like a rusted blade. To betray this child's trust would be the final nail in his own coffin, hammered through the splintered wood of his soul. If it meant his father slit his throat, leaving him to bleed out on cold stone while stars watched indifferently from above, so be it. He would never hurt this boy even if it cost him everything, every last ounce of thinly-stretched dignity he had left, every breath in his lungs, every beat of his treacherous heart.

Chapter Text

Hyunjin caught Felix in his arms, his dagger discarded without hesitation, the blade clattering against the stone floor as panic danced hot and wild behind his eyes.

Felix's whole body jerked violently against Hyunjin's chest, muscles locked in a spasm he couldn't will away, his slender frame convulsing as sweat beaded along his hairline despite the chill in the air.

"Felix—!" Hyunjin exclaimed over the sound of Felix's ragged breathing, his voice cracking with desperation.

Felix clawed desperately at Hyunjin's fur-covered sleeve, nothing but animal panic in his dilated pupils, as if the very air had transformed to poison and he was desperate for anything real, anything living, to hold him here in this realm.

"Felix!" The name tore from Hyunjin's throat again, echoing off the high vaulted ceiling.

He felt his own thundering heartbeat trip and falter, matching Felix's arrhythmic convulsions. The sense of helplessness was a white-hot knife in the gut: no enemy to be run through with steel, no army to incinerate with dragonfire, no laceration to stitch, only a tempest tearing through someone he... cared about. The word hovered, unspoken, somewhere in the labyrinth of his tortured soul.

He didn't know what to do, but Felix's skin felt like wet parchment beneath his fingertips, clammy and cool, so he drew Felix closer against his bare chest, where his own heart hammered like war drums, anchoring them both with a fist clutching the fabric at the middle of Felix's trembling back. The smaller man's spine curved like a bow against his palm, each vertebra distinct through the thin material.

Hyunjin willed his warmth to transfer between them, praying that Felix could absorb some of it, that it might thaw the terror freezing every muscle in his body.

"Someone help!!!" Hyunjin half-shouted, half-sobbed, the plea echoing off the stone walls, his voice splintering with emotion before his eyes caught movement— help had already entered, rushing over.

Changbin dropped to his knees in front of them with an urgency that the floor was surely to leave a bruise through the thin fabric of his breeches. His hands—calloused from years of fighting alongside Hyunjin—were surprisingly gentle as he pressed a thumb to the hinge of Felix's jaw. His eyes, sharp as obsidian, darted methodically over Felix's face, checking for seizure, for breath, before examining his pupils. With the precision of a battlefield triage nurse who had seen a thousand men fall, he swept Felix's mop of hair aside, found the racing pulse at his throat—too fast, too erratic—then looked Hyunjin dead in the eye.

"Panic—" he began, voice steady despite the chaos.

"It's a fucking seizure! Help him!" Hyunjin spat, voice hoarse with the terror he was trying, and failing miserably, to deny.

Changbin's face smoothed, the lines of worry disappearing as his battlefield composure snapped into place even as Felix's body bucked between them. "Whatever the fuck you did—ugh!" He swallowed the accusation, the tendons in his neck straining. "Just shut the hell up and listen to me, Jinnie. There's no time for a science lesson. It’s not an actual seizure— it’s from hyperventilating. We need to ground hi—"

"How do I do that?!" Hyunjin's voice cracked like thunder in the chamber, a fine mist of spittle catching the light. His eyes, normally lazy with arrogance, now blazed with panic.

Changbin seized Hyunjin's forearm, his battle-scarred fingers digging into flesh hard enough to bruise. His voice cut through the panic like a blade through silk, somehow both glacier-calm and burning with urgency. "The same way you do your soldiers, Jinnie! Focus!"

Hyunjin gazed at Changbin like a deranged man for a moment, chest heaving, before jerking his head in a curt nod. Shame burned through his veins at losing composure. He moved to lift Felix’s form entirely, his trembling hands tightening beneath him.

But something shifted—subtle at first.

The air thickened with the sharp, metallic scent of panic and sweat. Beneath his palm, Felix’s heartbeat thundered, uneven and fragile, and Hyunjin’s own pulse began to mirror it, pounding so hard it rattled his ribs. Heat built in his chest like the stir of coals under bellows. His vision tunneled and every sound—Changbin’s breath, Felix’s faint whimper, a drip of water in the distance—grew painfully loud, each one scraping against nerves strung too tight.

Then, it uncoiled and surfaced. The rhythm of fear twisted into something territorial, possessive—mine—and the very air itself seemed to respond, humming faintly against his skin.

Changbin’s hand slid beneath Felix’s knees to help lift him and that single touch was the spark.

Hyunjin’s pupils contracted, irises flooding crimson as the beast in his blood surged to the surface. His lips peeled back, and a guttural, inhuman sound ripped from his chest, more growl than breath, vibrating through the room.

The mere threat struck Changbin with such force that he toppled backward, palms slapping against cold stone. For three heartbeats, he stayed frozen, transfixed by the crimson blaze in Hyunjin’s eyes.

Changbin had seen this look countless times before, often times not long before he’d watch Hyunjin wade through fire and corpses without blinking, when whether one was friend or foe made little difference.

He’d helped before—Minho’s orders sharp in the chaos, Jeongin’s sedative coursing through the his veins, soldiers straining to hold him down while Hyunjin’s wrath burned itself out. But facing it alone was something else entirely. Without the others, without the buffer of command or science or strength in numbers, he was left with raw terror.

Even the bravest warriors knew better than to challenge a dragon.

So Changbin's hands snapped up in immediate surrender, palms open and trembling slightly as he edged backward in deference.

Dragons could not be reasoned with, after all.

To speak of reason to such creatures was to whisper into a storm. What they claimed was sacred—bound to their soul as flame to breath. Possession ran in their blood like fire in their veins.

Chapter Text

Felix was jolted from the haze of his thoughts by a sudden downpour of ice-cold water crashing down from above, slicing into his skin like a thousand tiny blades. His lungs seized, dragging in sharp breaths that caught on the cold, and he doubled over, coughing water from his lips in broken gasps. Though somehow still upright, his knees buckled under him, his body refusing its own weight.

When his vision steadied, blurred rivulets streaming down his lashes, he realized he was standing in the shower, drenched to the bone. Strong arms were locked around him from behind, holding him in place. His back pressed against a chest that radiated heat through the sodden layers between them, their bodies framed beneath the relentless cascade. Gooseflesh rippled over him as the shock of the cold fought the warmth of that hold.

“W—What are you—?” he stammered, his words broken by violent shivers, teeth clattering in the storm of water and breath.

“Grounding you,” Hyunjin replied evenly, lifting his arm into view. “Before you hurt someone… again.” Red welts marred his wrist in the shape of Felix’s own hand, angry and blistered, the skin tight and raised.

The memory came in flashes— Felix’s own voice echoing down the corridor, wild and cracked, Hyunjin’s grip around him as he thrashed, and the metallic taste of panic flooding his mouth. He had fought him the entire way back to their chambers, wailing until his lungs gave out.

“Your magic’s strong,” Hyunjin continued after a pause, his tone strangely detached. “I mean, I knew that when you popped that elf bastard like a balloon…” His lips twitched—almost a smile, but his eyes were distant. “I’ve never been burned before.”

Felix followed his gaze to the blistered skin, horror clawing through his gut. His magic had branded him— his handprint seared into Hyunjin’s flesh. He hadn’t even realized it. The shock hit too fast for him to brace. His stomach lurched, and bile surged up his throat. He bent forward as his body convulsed, retching until bitter acid and everything he’d consumed that night spilled over his chin and shirt, splattering across the marble at their feet. The scent hit sharp and sour, mixing with the clean rush of water.

But Hyunjin didn’t move. His hold remained steady and immovable as, with calm efficiency, he shifted his stance and pulled the drain sift off with his toes, letting the water sweep the mess away in swirling ribbons.

“A warning next time would be nice,” he muttered, a faint edge of humor ghosting through his voice, one brow lifting as if to soften the moment. The smile that followed barely reached his eyes.

Felix coughed again, chest spasming, water and bile stinging his throat. Only then did it strike him that they were both still clothed, fabric plastered to their bodies, weighty and clinging like a second skin.

“I—I’m so sorry—” he rasped, voice hoarse. He wiped his mouth with a trembling hand, the bitter taste still coating his tongue.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hyunjin said simply. The word carried no anger, only exhaustion.

Felix’s mind felt fractured— fog and static where memory should’ve been. Between leaving Jeongin’s room and standing here beneath the cold torrent, everything had vanished into blank white noise.

“Now tell me what’s got you so goddamn worked up. Did Seungmin say something? Are you that sensitive?” Hyunjin mocked, the edge in his voice softened only slightly by fatigue. His hands unwound from Felix’s torso, leaving ghostly impressions along his ribs as he stepped back. “You’re going to have to get used to it, you know. He’s… like that.”

Felix’s legs trembled beneath him, unsteady as saplings in a storm. His thoughts scattered, dissolving before they could take shape. Hyunjin’s arm reached past him toward the tap, but Felix lurched forward, slapping his hand away and twisting the knob further.

The water turned cruel, pelting down like sleet. Felix tilted his face into the torrent, welcoming the sting. The cold stripped everything else away—the panic, the shame, the noise. It ran down his cheeks in steady rivers, plastering his hair to his skin and rinsing the sour taste from his mouth.

“Yongbok,” Hyunjin said quietly, the name barely audible over the shower’s roar. The mockery vanished. Concern trembled in its place. “Are you okay?”

The gentleness in that deep voice struck Felix harder than any insult ever could. This man—this cold, unflinching commander who spoke in orders and carried blood on his hands—sounded worried. The contradiction made something in Felix’s chest twist violently.

He turned, water flinging from his hair in sharp arcs. “Am I okay?” His voice cracked, jagged. “Am I okay?!” The second shout thundered against marble. “Make up your fucking mind, Hwang Hyunjin!” His finger jabbed at Hyunjin’s chest, trembling with fury. “Why must you mock me and you sneer at me like I disgust you, but then—” his voice faltered, “—then look at me like that, like you're doing right now, as if my pain actually matters to you?”

Felix’s voice climbed, ragged and breathless. “And don’t you dare blame it on politics. You didn’t give a damn about this alliance. You would have rather died in battle than marry a Feloran. You only did it because of Minho.” His hands shook violently at his sides. “But don’t lie to yourself and pretend he’d cast you out if you killed me. You aren’t even his blood… and yet, that man would forgive you for anything. You could burn half the realm, and he’d likely still call you his brother.”

He stepped closer, breath mingling with Hyunjin’s, eyes wide with fury. “So why didn’t you just poison me after our wedding? You could have easily spun some tragic tale about a betrayal. I mean, I am an elf, so everyone would have believed it, right? Then you would have had your family, your war, and your freedom. A life without me.” His voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “Tell me why you pretend to be a monster one moment and…” he gestured sharply at Hyunjin’s expression, “…this the next. Who are you?”

Hyunjin’s face shifted, something cracking open behind his eyes. The arrogance fell away, leaving only raw hurt. His lips parted, soundless for a beat, as if searching for words that no longer existed.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” he said at last, voice scraped thin. The sound of it was almost painful.

“I don’t want anything from you!” Felix’s voice broke, torn between anger and grief. “Did we not have this same conversation this morning? I simply want to know you! The real you, not the versions you concoct to fit the narratives in everyone’s stories except your own. The you beneath all the deflection and the hatred and the fucking walls you throw up every time you think I might actually see you!”

Hyunjin’s jaw tightened, a muscle flickering beneath his skin. “Fine,” he said lowly. “What do you wish to know?” His gaze dropped to the water swirling around their feet, evasive.

The dismissal cut through Felix like a blade. “I wish to know everything!” His voice rose, trembling with fury and despair. “Again— Who the hell am I married to, Hyunjin?! I wish to know your past, your future, your desires, your fears, what haunts you, where you came from, why you are constantly giving me whiplash, why you're such a fraud and a coward, but somehow also the most powerful man I’ve ever met. How you can climb onto the back of a giant fucking dragon with ease but can’t stomach a conversation that might allow me a glimpse into your soul!” His breath came in harsh, ragged pulls. “Why your hands are so damn gentle when you touch me, as if you’re afraid I’ll break. Why you once said you preferred insects to elves, yet kissed me today like you needed me to breathe.”

Felix’s tone softened, the anger splintering into ache, his face mottled with anguish. “I saw your memories,” he whispered. “Things you shouldn’t have had to endure. Things no child should. And before you yell at me for the invasion, it wasn’t intentional— it just happened. It happened with Jeongin as well. I saw what my people did to his family.” His gaze fell. “I don’t care that your brother insisted on it… How could you ever agree to marry me with such knowledge? Make it make sense, Hyunjin. Because I swear I’m losing my mind here and I can’t take it anymore. Please.” His voice cracked, breaking apart entirely. “And tell me why I can’t hate you, no matter how much I try. I need to hate you.”

The fight drained out of him. His chest caved inward as though the weight of his words hollowed him out. A small, wounded sound escaped him as his arms wrapped tight around his own body, fingers digging into the wet fabric clinging to his ribs. The sudden ache for Jisung’s embrace—his confidant, his constant—burned like a phantom limb. But worse was the creeping suspicion that Jisung, too, might have hidden the truth as well.

Hyunjin moved slowly, peeling off his soaked coat. The red fur gleamed in the falling water as he tossed it aside. Droplets trailed down the sharp planes of his face, catching on his lashes. He leaned back against the wall, sliding down until his knees bent, elbows resting on them, fingers interlaced. His voice, when it came, was low—commanding still, but quieter, uncertain at the edges.

“What exactly did you see?”

Felix's exhale fogged the space between them momentarily. Relief and dread warred in his chest like opposing armies. He lowered himself to the floor beside Hyunjin, the cold marble sending a shock through his already chilled body. He drew his knees to his chest as he contemplated how much to reveal.

Frigid water continued to pour from above, creating a crystalline veil around them. The steady rhythm of droplets hitting marble echoed in the enclosed space, transforming the shower into a sanctuary where confessions could be spoken without fear of them escaping beyond the watery curtain that separated them from the world outside.

“This morning, when you kissed me in the alley..." Felix's voice trembled like a leaf in autumn wind.

He recounted each vision in agonizing detail—Hyunjin's mother forcing her son's small head underwater, her fingers tangled in his hair as bubbles escaped his mouth. Felix described how the visions had blurred and shifted— burning cabins, Jeongin hiding beneath floorboards, the bloodied bodies of families, the man's voice echoing with the wicked command Hyunjin would go on to disobey. His words tumbled out in fragments, each memory piercing him anew. The tall man with shoulders like mountain ridges storming into Hyunjin's childhood bedroom, moonlight catching on the buckle of his belt as he unfastened it. Each time he glanced at Hyunjin's profile—sharp jaw clenched tight, eyes fixed on some distant point—Felix's voice would crack and falter, his slender shoulders shuddering beneath the weight of secondhand horror.

When all was said and Felix felt completely hollowed out, he pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, dragging it down over his face, as if that alone could erase everything he’d just relived.

Hyunjin said nothing for several long moments. Felix counted them out, tracking the seconds. He thought, at first, that Hyunjin had simply shut down—eyes empty, face slack, that thousand-yard stare Felix had grown almost used to. But this time, Felix simply wouldn’t allow it.

"Who is he?" Felix whispered, the question hanging between them like frost crystals in winter air.

Hyunjin pressed his spine against the cold wall, tilting his head back. Water from the shower caught in his eyelashes as he closed them. His throat worked visibly, the elegant column of it tensing before he finally spoke.

Hyunjin's eyes darkened. "Joon. Our father," he muttered, the name like poison on his tongue. "Well, biologically, Seungmin's father, but the only father Minho and I ever knew... unfortunately."

His fingers curled into fists. "Minho was his first project. He tried to train him, mold him into his image of perfection, but Minho..." A ghost of affection flickered across his face. "He's always danced to the beat of his own drum. When Joon realized Minho wasn't budging in the slightest, he stopped trying altogether. He didn't stop humiliating him every chance he got, though."

Hyunjin's voice dropped to a somber tone. "He would parade Minho in front of foreign diplomats, guests, soldiers—teasing him for being a ‘halfwit’, ‘slow in the head’—and have Minho do the most useless, remedial tasks just so everyone could snicker at him for doing it without question. Minho would just brush it away like dust from his shoulder. But I saw the truth in his eyes, how much each word—each laugh— gutted him." Water streamed down Hyunjin's temple, indistinguishable from tears. "Seungmin, he far preferred to Minho, obviously. His blood, his legacy, you know? As a child, Seungmin showed... potential in his eyes."

His lips curled slightly into a fond smile. "Fucking hell, he was a menace. You’d think he was the feral one. But even as terrorizing as he could be, Seungmin has always been…” He paused, searching for the correct words. “…the softest of us. He would shut down when someone raised their voice. Oftentimes, he’d just run and hide from conflict. Worst of all in Joon’s eyes, he was too compassionate. Before I could even speak a complete sentence, I would have extreme fits of frustration from not being able to communicate and I’d have to be chained in the dungeons. He would just sit there with me as if my kicking, screaming, throwing shit, and biting didn’t bother him at all. Even as we grew up, there were times I would withdraw from the world entirely and he’d come in my room and just… hold my hand. He’d say nothing, but… he would sit there until he believed I wasn’t going to hurt myself. Joon insisted his demeanor would be his downfall if he didn’t fix it," Hyunjin's gaze drifted to some middle distance, his voice becoming hollow.

"But I..." Felix watched Hyunjin's Adam's apple bob, a rhythmic pulse visible at his throat. He sniffled once, cleared his throat with a sound like gravel, then fell silent for so long Felix thought he might not continue. When he finally spoke, each word seemed dragged from some lightless depth. "I was his favorite. Everything he ever wanted and more. His masterpiece.”

The admittance struck Felix with such force that his lungs seemed to collapse. His jaw slackened, lips parting as he stared at Hyunjin through the curtain of shower water. The droplets cascaded across Hyunjin’s face, magnifying the haunted look in those dark eyes. Felix's mind reeled with images of small hands struggling against adult fingers.

When Hyunjin noticed Felix's expression, a humorless laugh escaped him, the sound scraping against the marble like broken glass.

"I know. Me being anyone's favorite, right?" The words dripped with self-loathing, each syllable weighted with years of internalized hatred. The corners of Hyunjin's mouth twitched downward, a muscle tensing in his jaw.

Felix's throat constricted. That wasn’t remotely his train of thought. He was stuck on fathoming how anyone could claim someone as their favorite while inflicting such calculated cruelty. The contradiction made his stomach churn.

"I don't understand..." The words came out as barely more than a whisper, nearly lost beneath the steady drumming of water.

Hyunjin's chest rose and fell with a labored breath. His eyelids fluttered closed, water streaming down the sharp planes of his face with his tears. "He saw the monster in me the moment I graced the castle doors." His voice dropped lower, becoming almost hypnotic in its cadence. "So I became his project to teach how to talk, read, write, swear, fight, hate, and most of all, kill.” He cleared his throat. “He had visions of grandeur with me at the lead— things he sought to accomplish but didn't have the means to until such a deadly weapon walked right into his hands."

Hyunjin's teeth sank into his lower lip, leaving crescent indentations in the soft flesh. His fingers curled against the marble floor, nails scraping against the smooth surface. "The more defiant I grew with age and understanding… and learning from my brothers and friends how to be… human… the crueler his methods became." The last words emerged strangled, as though physically painful to voice.

Felix's heart clenched at the raw vulnerability etched across Hyunjin's features. He couldn't bear to watch him struggle through memories that clearly lacerated his soul, so he gently redirected.

“And your mother…?"

"—was just as bad. She never made me…" Hyunjin's fingers twisted in the air, searching for words that wouldn't come. His eyes darted to the corner of the room. "She never… We've never had… like, sex or—"

"Raped," Felix said, the word cutting through the air like a blade. Hyunjin's face contorted, color draining from his cheeks as if Felix had slapped him with an open palm. "She never raped you." Felix's voice remained steady, unwavering. "Don't fool yourself into believing you 'had sex' with that sick bastard. It's rape, Hyunjin."

Hyunjin's body went rigid, shoulders hunched toward his ears. After several heartbeats, he gave a reluctant nod, his exhale shuddering through his frame.

"She never… uh, yeah…" His fingernails dug crescents into his palms. "But she stood beside him while they groomed me into their perfect weapon."

He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing. "Not long before I turned sixteen, guests from neighboring kingdoms arrived for a grand feast to celebrate long-standing peace." His bottom lip trembled, teeth sinking into it as he fought for control. The words seemed to scrape his throat raw as they emerged.

"For one night, I believed in it—peace.” He laughed humorlessly. “I… relaxed. I ate. I danced. Like a fucking naive idiot." Hyunjin's eyes glazed with memory. "But when they sent Seungmin and Minho to bed but kept me behind, I knew. Soldiers blocked the exits, and mother commanded me to... release it. It happened so fast. There was… so much blood… and limbs scattered across the floor. And… there were children—" His voice finally shattered like glass, shoulders heaving as sobs tore through him, each breath a desperate, ragged gasp.

“I hadn't even fought it that time—not like usual. I obeyed immediately..." Hyunjin's voice shook and cracked, his long fingers picking at a scar on his upper arm. "And it became abundantly clear that they finally had full command over me. It's what mother always wanted, her perfect marionette, and she finally had me on her strings." His eyes, rimmed with red, glanced at Felix momentarily. "The realization... I stood at my window after that for hours, willing myself to just... jump... but I couldn't. I couldn’t leave the boys behind, especially not with them..."

"It's what your mother always wanted?" Felix echoed, leaning forward. "What about him? What did he want if not the same?"

Hyunjin's shoulders shot up toward his ears, his jaw clenching so tight a muscle jumped visibly beneath the skin.

Felix's stomach knotted as he registered the change, the way Hyunjin's eyes had gone flat and distant like shuttered windows.

"I apologize—"

Hyunjin's eyes darkened. "My mother wanted to conquer the world. Joon wanted the entire world and all things in it to burn. He craved my complete transformation— the moment I'd finally shed the last scrap of my humanity. The sick irony was that he understood the math of it all. He knew that once I became the exact weapon he designed, I'd kill him first. It’s what he wanted." Hyunjin's fingers curled into fists. "For years, I couldn't comprehend why he'd push me like that if he wouldn’t be alive to witness the destruction first-hand. Later, I realized Joon desired annihilation, whether he lived to witness it or not— a special kind of evil, he was." A bitter smile ghosted across his lips. "His masterpiece would be complete when I finally killed him." Hyunjin's voice fractured. "But even at my worst, when I'd torn apart entire rooms of people, I never could... I wouldn't..." His lips pressed into a trembling line, words dissolving as he fought against the tide of emotion threatening to drown him.

Felix scooted closer. "Why not?" His thigh pressed against the other man's as the space between them vanished. The question hung like a garrote between them—invasive, yes, but they were bound now, shackled by vows neither had wanted, so there was no sanctuary in secrets when their lives had been sentenced to intertwine until death or war do them part.

Hyunjin stared pointedly at one particular spot on the floor as he continued, appearing lost in memories.

Hyunjin's laugh was hollow, devoid of any mirth. "Because I’m fucking selfish, he was right about that much. According to him, love was my weakness— this tiny seed inside me that kept me from reaching my full potential." His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "From the moment I could even form proper memories, Joon told me he had a mage perform a ritual binding Minho's soul to his." His fingers trembled against the marble. "So if he died, Minho would too. No matter what horrors he inflicted or commanded me to commit..." His voice cracked, splintering like thin ice. "I couldn't bear the thought of losing Minho. He was— He was the one who tried to raise me like a human. No matter what, he was always there for me. He continuously tried to show me I could be more than a weapon." Hyunjin's body folded in on itself, arms wrapping over his head as sobs wracked his frame, each breath coming in desperate, shallow gasps.

Felix's hand found Hyunjin's leg, touch tentative, ready to withdraw at the slightest flinch. When no rejection came, he leaned his weight against Hyunjin's side until his head rested on the taller man's shoulder, fingers tracing gentle, soothing patterns against his thigh.

Hyunjin's voice cracked as he shook his head, and words spilled out like blood from a wound. "You don't understand. I've slaughtered thousands— thousands— just to protect the handful who gave a damn about me. I'm not just a monster, I'm a selfish fucking abomination. I know that," he spat, hands trembling.

Felix's scoff sliced through the air, and Hyunjin froze mid-breath. He pivoted toward Hyunjin, gripping his face, forcing those hollow, bloodshot eyes to meet his own.

Felix's hands trembled against Hyunjin's face, his voice low and fierce. "I've killed for Jisung. I've killed for you and your home. Who wouldn't go to such lengths to protect—"

Hyunjin shook his head rapidly. "That's different," he countered, voice cracking. "Those you killed were soldiers, not innocent civilians. And most importantly," his face contorted with remembered horror, "none of them were children—"

“You were a child as well, Hyunjin. A child,” Felix said, voice trembling but unwavering. “A child with blood-stained hands, yes, but a child nonetheless— groomed to kill without remorse, with death threats dangling over those you loved every waking second. You couldn't have been expected to rationalize anything when your entire world was built on manipulation, abuse, and fear, especially at that age, when other children were learning to dance, not to slaughter.”

He held Hyunjin's gaze, refusing to look away even as those dark eyes glittered with old pain and new panic.

His fingers dug deeper, desperate to anchor this truth into Hyunjin's soul.

“A monster doesn’t cry for the horrors he’s committed. A monster doesn’t carry guilt like this,” Felix choked on tears of his own, blinking away the water dripping from his lashes as it blurred his vision. “Whether you like it or not, I see you— this walking paradox of a man— so arrogant and proud, yet so doubtful and insecure. So strong yet fragile. You despise what I represent, yet your hands have steadied me when I needed them, perhaps without you even realizing. On our wedding night, my life hung in your hands, yet here I breathe. I've seen how you look at your brothers— even Jeongin—with more—” is voice caught, a hiccup breaking his words before he swallowed hard. “—with more affection than my own blood kin have ever shown me. You command a fucking dragon; the throne could be yours, yet you stand in Minho's shadow loyally without envy or resentment. There are monsters in this world, Hwang Hyunjin, but they bear no resemblance to you."

Felix's words had poured out of him like blood from a severed artery—raw, unstoppable, life-giving. When he finally fell silent, his chest heaving and hands trembling against Hyunjin's face, the only sound left was the shower's relentless drumming, each droplet striking like the final notes of a confession that had shattered something irreparable between them.

For a long moment, Hyunjin didn’t move. His eyes searched the elf’s face—wide, unguarded, desperate in a way that stripped him bare. It was as though he were staring at something he couldn’t reconcile, something impossible and fragile lodged within Felix’s gaze. Disbelief trembled behind his lashes, the quiet horror of a man who had never been met with understanding and didn’t know how to handle it. The realization struck Felix like a blade of sorrow because Hyunjin wasn’t just astonished by Felix’s compassion; he looked as if he truly believed he didn’t deserve it at all.

And for the first time, Felix witnessed Hyunjin's armor not merely crack but shatter—fragments of his defenses exploding outward like shrapnel. The revelation hit Felix with physical force: every previous glimpse of vulnerability had been calculated performance. This—this was Hyunjin's soul laid bare, bleeding and exposed. Beyond the agony etched into every line of his face blazed something far more devastating: the violent, unbearable awakening of hope, clawing its way through years of carefully cultivated darkness.

Then, as if testing the strength of the world's most fragile bridge, Hyunjin slowly pressed his forehead to Felix's, letting the contact pass on the crushing weight he no longer had to bear alone.

Neither spoke for some time. The icy downpour plastered their clothes to shivering skin, raising goosebumps. Felix's teeth chattered softly, but still, neither of them moved from where they sat, as if the cold might somehow cleanse what words could not.

Questions swirled like storm clouds in Felix's mind, each one threatening to burst, but the weight of Hyunjin's confessions pressed down on his shoulders. He swallowed hard, his throat dry as desert sand, and chose the one that seemed most vital. "And Joon?" The name felt poisonous on his tongue. "Where is he now?"

Hyunjin’s shoulders sagged against Felix’s touch, though each word still trembled with raw pain. “A few months after the slaughter at the feast…” His voice cracked, then vanished beneath the roar of water. He pressed his palm to Felix’s shoulder like an anchor, trying to steady himself.

Felix waited patiently, his eyelids drooping with exhaustion, each blink slower than the last. This day had stretched his soul to breaking point, and there were still several revelations to get to the bottom of.

Hyunjin drew a ragged breath. “There was a battle... it was massive. I’d finally earned my way onto the vanguard for the first time— the youngest front-line soldier in history, in fact.” There was the faintest hint of pride behind his eyes. “We were facing… Felora.” He paused, letting the implication settle like a stone between them.

Felix's blood crystallized to ice in his veins.

“Yeah…” Hyunjin swallowed, continuing, “It was brutal, but I held my ground against them. And then I saw Joon… watching me… with so much pride, almost like a father. In that moment, I felt… alive. Finally worth something.” He laughed, but it echoed hollowly. “And that? That made me fucking sick. Made my skin crawl. So I let the rage inside me loose. I pictured every elf as Joon’s smiling face.”

His voice dropped to a sneer. “I fought like a demon possessed. I never slowed, not even for a second— I don’t even know how I stayed standing. Hate… consumed me. I wanted the battlefield to drown in blood, mine or theirs— I didn’t care. I was ready to die. I no longer cared who it would affect. And then, just as the fighting slowed, both sides called for retreat and I guess agreed to a draw. But I… couldn’t stop.”

Hyunjin’s knuckles lightened as he gripped Felix’s shoulder tighter. “I kept charging and pushing forward. They formed a magic barrier, but I screamed and scratched at it like an animal. I wanted someone—any one of them—to just fight me. Their eyes… They were so afraid. They saw a monster. At the time, being looked at like that made me feel invincible.” His breath hitched. “But Joon— he pulled me from the field, dragged me into the woods, and beat me senseless for going against orders. He said since he’d spent years building me up, breaking me down, and teaching me to obey and I still refused to fully submit… he’d have to change his methods.” Hyunjin’s lips trembled. “He said since Minho disgusted him too much, he’d have to start with Seungmin, and I would have to watch. I couldn’t… I just snapped.”

His voice became a strangled whisper, every word dripping with fury and guilt. “My hatred finally won. I didn’t care about anything beyond that moment. I didn’t even consider Minho’s life…”

He closed his eyes, as if the confession alone could drown him. The water roared on, uncaring.

“You killed him?” Felix asked, the words barely a breath, so soft he almost missed them himself.

Hyunjin's head moved in the smallest denial, almost imperceptible beneath the shower's cascade.

"I was going to, but never got the chance. Something hit my head and damn near knocked me out, and when my vision cleared, I saw Minho standing behind Joon with a dagger straight through him." His voice cracked. "But Joon wasn’t about to go without a fight. He pulled his own dagger and buried it in Minho’s stomach. Then they staggered and circled each other like wild, wounded animals—pathetic, really—until..." A broken laugh escaped him. "Joon should have known better. Minho never gave a shit about honor on a battlefield when it came to those he cared about. He threw down his weapons as if surrendering, and Joon— fucking dumbass— threw his down as well and went to shake Minho’s hand as truce and as soon as their hands met, Minho just..." He dragged his fingertips across his own throat. "With his teeth."

Hyunjin's shoulders trembled. "When Joon fell, Minho stumbled over to me, ignoring his own wounds, and held me against his chest for what felt like forever. I couldn't speak— couldn't tell him what I knew— but he kept whispering it was okay, that he loved me. Over and over. I was waiting for him to die right there with Joon. And it would all be my fault. Like a twisted self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts," His fingers twisted in his dripping hair. "He wouldn’t stop saying everything was okay now. But it wasn’t."

Felix didn't dare breathe.

Felix's voice emerged barely above the sound of falling water. "Minho survived, though."

Hyunjin's silence stretched between them, his jaw working as if chewing on words too bitter to swallow.

"Yeah… Joon’s deal with the mage? All bullshit. A lie he fabricated. And I fell for it like a fucking fool." His voice quivered violently. "All those deaths, all that bloodshed, because I couldn't see through a simple lie. But it doesn’t matter..." His fingers twisted in his hair. "In that moment with Joon, I chose myself over my brother. I was ready to trade Minho's life for my peace." The sob wrenched from his lungs was so deep and ragged it left Felix's own chest aching. The sound echoed off the tiles, dissolving into the hissing current of the shower.

They sat that way for a long time, Felix breathing with him and leaning against Hyunjin’s trembling body with as much tenderness as he could muster. This was not a wound that could be bandaged. This was the blood and bone of a man poured raw and steaming onto the floor, for the first time allowed to rot in the open air instead of being stitched tight and buried deep.

Felix saw before him a soul who had weathered unimaginable cruelty, yet still preserved within himself a sanctuary where those he loved remained untouchable, enshrined. Hyunjin's devotion to his brother had carved such deep channels in his battered heart that the mere thought of having betrayed that love— even for an instant, tortured, threatened, a child— left him drowning in an ocean of what-ifs. Even now, with Minho breathing and whole somewhere in the castle, that single moment of choice haunted Hyunjin.

"No," Felix whispered, his voice barely audible above the water, before his fingers found Hyunjin's white-knuckled fists tangled in his own hair, gently prying them loose before the man could tear strands from his scalp.

Hyunjin looked at him, curiosity breaking through the storm clouds of his expression. His bloodshot eyes widened slightly, dark lashes clumped together from shower water and tears, while his lower lip trembled with the aftershocks of confession. His hands shook in Felix's gentle hold, fingers curling instinctively toward warmth even as his shoulders remained rigid with tension.

"What?" he choked out, the syllable emerging tired and raw.

Felix swallowed, the lump in his throat scraping like sandpaper. "You’re wrong.” He spoke louder, clearer. “He threatened to violate Seungmin—his own son—no? That is what triggered your reaction, is it not? So why would you say you chose yourself and your own peace? You were protecting your baby brother, Hyunjin… And even if that was not the case, Minho chose your peace as well.” He paused before explaining. “It seems that Minho was also willing to let himself die if it meant you could have peace." His voice softened, each word carefully chosen like stepping stones across treacherous waters. "Though he didn't succumb to his injury, he could have. A blade in the stomach? That could have been fatal, yet he cared only about you in that moment." Felix leaned forward, water clinging to his eyelashes as he searched Hyunjin's devastated face. "If you must hate yourself, then you’ll have to hate him too."

The challenge hung between them in the cold air, Felix's eyes never leaving Hyunjin's, knowing that hating Minho was impossible. He hoped for a day when Hyunjin found hating himself just as impossible, but Felix's chest tightened with hypocrisy he wasn’t quite prepared to confront. His own self-loathing burned like acid in his veins—fury at his naivety, at how he'd walked through life with eyes wide shut, missing the jagged edges of truth that had been cutting others open while he remained untouched in his bubble of ignorance. The world had been screaming its secrets, and he'd been deaf to every whisper.

Hyunjin's eyes flickered with consideration, then darkened as he pushed the thought away and continued his story.

"Mother came upon us and saw Joon's body. She collapsed beside him, wailing so hard that for a split second, I almost mourned with her. Then she looked at me like… like I was the most horrifying monster she’d ever laid eyes upon. Before I could blink, her sword was arcing toward my throat."

Felix's skin prickled with gooseflesh. He could almost see it— a blood-spattered boy, already shattered by trauma, watching his mother's blade coming for him. The irony struck him— how she'd spent years goading Hyunjin toward darkness, urging him to embrace the monster that lurked beneath his skin. Then when he'd finally surrendered to that shadow self, her eyes widened with genuine terror. She'd wanted fangs and claws until they were bared in the direction of her loved one. The fantasy of his monstrosity had thrilled her; the reality of it left her trembling, likely desperate for the boy she'd worked so hard to destroy.

“But Minho stopped her and one look at him and she knew he’d done it, not me. He effortlessly lied that Joon had made some deal with the elves for power and turned on us amidst battle thus he had ended his life himself and I had nothing to do with it… that’s when her mind broke. Her other half had been taken by her perfect pride and joy that could do no wrong. She couldn’t handle it. So she didn’t. Minho took her place as ruler only a week later after being chosen through a traditional ceremony,” Hyunjin finally concluded, eyes red raw from crying.

He hadn't looked at Felix after his final admittance and now simply stared ahead unseeing as water dripped down his face.

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Felix finally murmured sadly.

Hyunjin furrowed his brow in confusion, glancing at Felix.

Felix grinned bitterly.

"He wanted you to lose humanity, your love, because it was what he saw as a weakness. But just when you thought you surrendered to your hatred, your brother’s love for you conquered. And Joon— to be bested by someone he saw as so incompetent and incapable… If that's not poetic justice, I don't know what is. Now, he is merely a bitter memory, and yet you are still here beside your brothers who clearly adore you... And you haven’t destroyed the world yet," the elf elaborated.

If the crushing weight of the day wasn't bearing down on his shoulders like a concrete slab, he might have even laughed—a dry, hollow sound scraping against his throat. The bitter irony tasted like copper in his mouth: Joon had looked right through Minho, tossed him aside like yesterday's newspaper, yet Minho had become the hairline crack that would eventually shatter his meticulously constructed glass house. The thought was darkly amusing, but the trail of blood and tears it took to reach this revelation certainly wasn't. Questions still ricocheted inside Felix's skull like stray arrows, but his body betrayed him— fingers trembling uncontrollably against his thigh, teeth chattering, mind fogging over with the heavy static of complete mental exhaustion.

Hyunjin smiled grimly, shaking his head softly at the sentiment as if disagreeing completely.

“I’m afraid that asshole’s effect will linger with me until the day I die,” he confessed gravely.

Felix shook his head. "No, it doesn’t have to. There are ways to deal with trauma so that it doesn’t—“

Hyunjin shook his head dismissively.

"I see the faces of children who’s lives I ended every time I close my eyes, Yongbok… and… there was an incident…about two, maybe three—I don’t remember—years ago… it was just an ordinary day but Seungmin was in a… boisterous mood and was just being loud and messing around, which is normally fine. Hell, it was usually me being the rowdy one. But I was in a bad mood, I don’t even remember why, and he… he threw something at me. It didn’t even hurt, and he was just joking, but all I saw was his father’s eyes in the moment…” He choked back another sob, ashamed. “I tried to kill him… I couldn’t stop. Had I not been fought off by others, he would be dead. Seungmin… He moved away after that. He said it was to explore new places, but I’m not stupid. He only recently came back to Levanter. I don’t know why. Nothing will ever change.” Hyunjin’s words were a rasping, hopeless wind.

“Joon was right… I can never be normal, and I put everyone around me in danger. I’m a fucking monster,” he spat out vehemently. "Don’t you understand? I can't undo the pain I cause by existing. And it will never stop." Hyunjin looked at Felix with a cold clarity that was somehow a thousand times more honest than the writhing agony he'd just confessed.

But Felix shook his head, positioning his body to face Hyunjin as his stomach fluttered frantically and anxiety began filling him rapidly because Hyunjin truly sounded as though he were preparing himself for death or worse, and he refused to allow the older to be that callous about his existence.

“But Seungmin is home now. And clearly loves and forgives you,” Felix pointed out adamantly.

Hyunjin frowned in disbelief. “He can pretend, but I know deep down, he’s still scared of me and always will be. And he should be. I can never let myself be in a room alone with him for the rest of our lives because what if it happens again, and no one is there to stop me?”

The thought physically pained Felix and made bile rise in his throat, but Hyunjin continued on, almost as if relieved he could finally voice the trauma that had haunted him relentlessly. He hiccuped and stuttered pathetically as he tried to speak again, and Felix waited patiently, his hand moving to stroke Hyunjin’s hair.

"When Joon would… uh, mount me… from behind…” Hyunjin trembled visibly, his shoulders hunching inward as if trying to make himself smaller. His words caught in his throat, fragmenting into broken syllables. Felix's gaze remained steady, unwavering in its compassion, as his slender fingers slid from Hyunjin's water-slick hair to the vulnerable curve where neck met shoulder. There, his thumb traced small, deliberate circles against the commander's skin—a silent promise of safety that seemed to loosen something tightly coiled in Hyunjin's chest, allowing him to draw a shuddering breath and continue his painful confession despite the visible cost of each word.“He… He wanted me to cry. If I suppressed any emotion, he would lean down and bite me on my back until I cried out in pain…” He disclosed shamefully, his gaze darting to the tiled wall, then to the water swirling at their feet—anywhere but into Felix's eyes, as if the confession itself had burned away his ability to make contact.

“That night… I didn’t mean to hurt you... no, I did, but not.. not entirely me..” His voice cracked on the final words, eyes haunted with the kind of pain that mirrored what Felix felt that night.

Felix's stomach twisted into a cold knot as realization dawned. That night, when he'd bitten Hyunjin's back— the moment that had triggered Hyunjin's transformation from man to monster, his eyes glazing over red with that terrifying emptiness as his fingers had crushed Felix's windpipe. Acid guilt rose in Felix's throat, but he swallowed it down, forcing his shoulders to straighten. The logical part of his mind whispered firmly that he couldn't have known about Hyunjin's trauma, couldn't have guessed that such an innocuous action would rip open old wounds.

Felix didn't say it aloud, but the memory of struggling for breath beneath Hyunjin’s grip didn't linger in his nightmares the way logic said it should. He couldn't quite understand why himself. Yet now, as the pieces clicked into place, something unfurled in his chest—a fragile tendril of vindication. He'd sensed all along that Hyunjin wasn't simply some violent, unhinged brute. The truth was infinitely more complex, and somehow knowing that felt like the first step across the scorched earth that had separated them.

"I do apologize, Hyunjin..." Felix watched as Hyunjin visibly shrank beneath the apologetic sentiment, shaking his head, droplets of water trailing down the sharp angles of his collarbones.

"No, I deserved it. You were new and scared and just vomited fucking venom to save me, and I was fucking with you. I shouldn't have..." Hyunjin's voice rasped against the shower's white noise. "I knew better... I was just so angry about the arrangement, I wanted to get under your skin enough to send you high-stepping it out of here... but goddammit, Yongbok, you have thick ass skin." A genuine snort escaped him, his lips quirking upward at the corners, instantly warming Felix's heart like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

Felix chuckled softly, the sound echoing against the walls. Goosebumps prickled across his skin as he carefully stood, extending a pruned hand toward the older man. "I'm freezing."

Hyunjin's fingers—long, calloused, yet surprisingly gentle—wrapped around Felix's without hesitation. Hyunjin rose to his full height, standing so close that Felix could count the water droplets clinging to his dark lashes. Their hands remained linked, a fragile bridge neither seemed willing to break.

"About, uh... your other questions..." Hyunjin's throat bobbed as he swallowed. "Miroh—"

Felix reached out, fingertips brushing Hyunjin's trembling shoulder. "It can wait," he offered, his deep voice softening to barely a whisper above the shower's steady patter. "Catch your breath."

Felix's chest constricted with each breath as if iron bands were tightening around his ribs. Hyunjin's words about thick skin pierced through him like shards of glass. If only the commander knew how Felix was fracturing inside, a thousand hairline cracks spreading beneath his carefully composed expression. His throat burned with the effort of swallowing down a scream. Every nerve ending felt raw, exposed, electrified with the desperate need to collapse. But he couldn't. Wouldn't. For Hyunjin— this broken, beautiful man before him— he would stand unflinching, even as his soul threatened to hemorrhage.

The questions about Miroh, the battle, Hyunjin’s mother, their arrangement, Minho, Hyunjin’s crimson eyes and inhuman strength when enraged, if anyone else knew the horrific things done to him, why they kept things from him— everything— burned like acid at the back of his throat, desperate to spill forth. But Hyunjin's swollen eyes, vulnerable in the harsh bathroom light, made him swallow them back down. The commander's impenetrable gates had opened, and Felix wanted to linger in this fragile moment of trust, memorizing the way Hyunjin's dark lashes clumped together with moisture, how his broad shoulders seemed less rigid now. The horrors waiting in those answers could claim him tomorrow, in days perhaps, but not yet. Not while droplets traced paths down both their bodies like silent witnesses to something broken beginning to heal.

They stood directly facing each other beneath the water streaming above them, droplets cascading down Hyunjin's sharp jawline and collecting in the hollow of his collarbone. For the first time, Felix noticed a certain clarity in Hyunjin's dark eyes— something luminous and unburdened, as if years of accumulated shadows had been washed away in their confession. The tightness that usually pulled at the corners of his mouth had softened, revealing a vulnerability that transformed his entire face. Felix couldn't help but think he was witnessing Hyunjin's soul taking its first clean breath in years.

Cautiously, Felix reached behind himself, fingers fumbling against the slick handle. He twisted it from icy to scalding, the sudden rush of steam billowing around them like morning fog over a battlefield. The hot water cascaded down, each droplet a pinprick of relief against his goosebumped skin.

He tentatively reached for the sodden ties of his own tunic, the fabric clinging to his collarbones. His eyes never left the commander's face— those dark irises that seemed to hold galaxies of unspoken pain. It was a wordless offering: vulnerability laid bare like once before.

Hyunjin's response was immediate, his calloused fingers brushing against Felix's wrist, nudging them aside. The commander's hands trembled slightly, water beading along his knuckles as he worked the knots loose from Felix’s chest, his breath shallow and uneven. When the last tie gave way, Felix pulled the heavy fabric over his head, golden hair plastered to his face, and flung the garment beyond the shower's confines, where it landed with a wet slap against the ground.

Silence pressed in around them, thick as the steam that coiled between their bodies. The blonde elf bit the inside of his cheek, his heart hammering against his ribs like a prisoner seeking escape. He stood motionless, water streaming down the curve of his spine, giving Hyunjin ample time to retreat behind his carefully constructed walls once more should he choose to.

Sure, they'd showered together once before, but that was after they had been covered in someone else's blood. Tonight wasn't so different emotionally, as Felix's eyes still held that haunted look after the visions had torn through his mind like lightning, leaving behind the scorched realization that his family may have fabricated carefully constructed lies. But Hyunjin stood taller, his skin clean, his conscience lighter after unburdening his confessions into the humid air between them. The steam from the running shower curled around his bare shoulders as he waited, patient and still. If Hyunjin turned and walked away now, his footprints leaving damp impressions on the floor, Felix would understand and accept his decision entirely.

But deep down, Felix didn't want him to leave. The thought of being alone with the revelations still ringing in his ears made his chest tighten. The visions from earlier flickered behind his eyelids whenever he blinked— fractured images that refused to fade. Inside him churned a knotted storm: horror that made his skin crawl, fear that shortened his breath, grief that weighed like stones in his stomach, empathy that ached in his throat, and something warm and dangerous unfurling in his chest— something treacherously close to hope.

As desperately as he tried to harness the stoicism his parents had hounded into him since childhood, his shoulders sagged beneath invisible weights. The perfect posture he'd maintained through diplomatic greetings and royal galas crumbled like ancient stonework. His face betrayed everything. Even as he tried to school his expression into that practiced royal indifference— chin lifted, jaw set— his eyes remained fixed on Hyunjin's, his eyebrows knitting together, a silent plea trembling in the drawn line of his mouth, corners pulled downward against his will.

He needed someone to lean on, someone whose solid presence could anchor him amid this storm-tossed sea of revelations.

Right now, he wanted that person to be Hyunjin— needed that person to be Hyunjin— with a yearning that settled in his chest like molten lead, pressing against his ribs with each shallow inhale, making his aching limbs tingle with anticipation and dread.

Chapter Text

Jeongin watched Felix flee, the elf's eyes wide with horror. The heavy door slammed against the stone wall as Felix bolted into the corridor.

Jeongin's heart hammered against his ribs as he moved to follow, but Seungmin's calloused fingers clamped around his wrist, the grip firm enough to leave crescents of white pressure on his skin.

"Let him go," Seungmin said, his eyes unreadable beneath the shadow of his lashes.

"But—" Jeongin's gaze darted to the door, where the tapestries still swayed from Felix's hasty departure. "Something's wrong! He looked—"

"He has to face the—"

"This is your fault!" Jeongin whipped around, yanking his wrist free with force. His face flushed crimson to the tips of his ears. "We had orders, Seungmin! Why did you keep pushing—"

"I don't give a fuck if it's my fault!" Seungmin declared, his jawline as sharp as flint as he stepped closer. "He must face the fact that his people are a bunch of genocidal—"

Jeongin's voice cracked like a whip. "Not like this, Seungmin! He did not need to be told at random in my bathroom after he and Hyunjin were finally getting along! Could you not see it?! He was in good spirits! But, of course, you had to go and sour everything because you can't for one fucking minute let someone be blissfully—"

"Ignorant?!" Seungmin's face contorted, veins standing out along his temples. "Ignorance is what allows such things to happen to begin with! Had your people not ignored every fucking messenger's warnings that Felora had set its eyes on Miroh, your family would be alive!"

As soon as the words escaped his lips, Seungmin's pupils contracted to pinpoints. His face transformed, fury draining like blood from a wound, leaving behind the pallor of shame. The words hung between them, acid-bright and burning the oxygen out of the room.

Jeongin stood frozen, his chest barely moving with each shallow breath. His eyes, wide and glassy, fixed on Seungmin with such intensity that the skin around them blanched. His mouth opened, then closed, the muscles working uselessly like a fish gasping on dry land.

Seungmin nearly turned away from that unblinking gaze, but his feet remained welded to the ground with some alloy of pride and regret, his shoulders squared despite the tremor in his hands.

Jeongin stood there, chest heaving with each ragged breath, fists clenched so tightly that half-moons of white appeared beneath his fingernails. Without the rage to hold him upright, his shoulders wilted like petals. Unshed tears gathered along his lower lashes, catching the amber light from the wall sconces. A shuddering exhale escaped his lips, the sound like autumn leaves skittering across stone.

Seungmin felt the fight drain from his body like blood from a wound. Anger, pride, petulance, despondence—those old, familiar tools with their well-worn handles—they slipped from his grasp. Seeing Jeongin like this stripped him bare and left him defenseless. Guilt and grief surged in his chest, a tide rising to choke him.

He took a step forward, his hand half-lifted in a gesture both uncertain and desperate.

But Jeongin dodged him and bolted across the room, bare feet silent against the cold floor, and flung himself onto the four-poster bed. He burrowed beneath the midnight-blue covers, yanking them over his head with such force that the mattress shifted. Only the faintest ripple across the fabric betrayed the violent tremors wracking his body as he curled into himself, fingers clutching the sheets as if they were armor against the cruelty of the world. Seungmin hovered at the edge of the bed, weight shifting from one foot to the other, his shadow stretching across the rumpled landscape of blankets like a dark question mark.

"Innie—" His voice cracked on the nickname, the syllables fragile as thin ice.

"No," Jeongin cried, the sound muffled by layers of fabric but no less cutting. "Do what you do best, Seungmin, and leave!"

Seungmin's feet itched with the familiar impulse to flee. The pain wracking Jeongin's form was his doing, and running from the aftermath of confrontation was a well-worn path. But something anchored him to the spot this time.

He sat on the side of the mattress, gingerly, as if the bed were a living thing that might snap shut and swallow him whole. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he stared at Jeongin's hunched form beneath the covers, a trembling mountain range of fabric and grief. The silence filled up between them like water in a glass, thick and distorting. Only the sound of sniffles and quiet, raw breathing—each inhale catching on invisible thorns—marked the rhythm of the next few minutes. His own silent tears carved warm, salty tracks down the planes of his face, each droplet a confession he couldn't voice. He swallowed hard against the knot in his throat, blinking rapidly to stem the flow, determined that Jeongin wouldn't hear the telltale hitch in his breath. Jeongin had always been too empathetic for his own good—the kind who would offer comfort to someone who'd just stabbed him. Seungmin had watched him do it countless times before: eyes softening at the first sign of another's distress, shoulders curving inward as if physically absorbing their pain. If Jeongin caught even a glimpse of the tears tracking silently down Seungmin's cheeks now, he'd reach out despite his own raw wounds.

But Seungmin kept his face turned away, letting the salt sting his lips, well aware the ache through his chest was a punishment he had earned.

Finally, he reached out—his fingers hovering in the air like a hesitant bird—then let his hand rest lightly on the blanket, above Jeongin's trembling shoulder. The touch was not insistent, not begging for forgiveness, only a gentle pressure that dimpled the fabric.

I’m here.

Not for absolution. Not to be answered. Just to remain. The words in his mind were a promise he would never break again.
He waited, counting heartbeats in the shadows.
He thought of all the times when they were younger that Jeongin had buried himself deep in the safety of a blanket cocoon, face hidden from the world, fingers clutching fabric tightly, and refusing to speak to anyone at all.
Most of the time, he'd walk away as Jeongin requested—leave him long enough for Jeongin to emerge later, sullen or red-eyed but at least breathing, face bearing the creased imprint of rumpled sheets.
But that was the past. They were older now—wiser—and Seungmin worried what else could curl up inside those blankets with Jeongin, what ghosts or poison or old grief might find him in the dark, if left too long alone with nothing but the echo of cruel words.

So Seungmin carefully crawled beneath the blanket, his body forming a hesitant crescent behind Jeongin's rigid spine. The sheets whispered against his skin as the two of them lay there in the dim hush, cocooned in a world of shadow-dappled fabric.

For a long time, he only listened to the ragged cadence of Jeongin's breathing—each inhale a shuddering gasp, each exhale a fractured sigh—while his own instinct to retreat waged war with his bone-deep love for Jeongin. He didn't try to pull Jeongin closer, but he let his breath fall into time with his—let it be known, even through the heavy quiet, that he was not leaving. Not this time. Not even if the helplessness scraped his insides raw. He would not abandon Jeongin in this place of hurt, would never again give in to the coward's impulse to run.

Eventually, the tremors faded like ripples in still water. The blanket shifted, Jeongin's hand emerged from the cave of his own making, and, without looking back, reached toward Seungmin's. Their fingers met and tangled wordlessly, skin warm against skin. Jeongin's chest hitched one last time, then slowed—each breath deliberate, the jagged edges of his pain gathering inward until it became small enough to hold.

Jeongin slowly pulled the covers down, turning around to lie on his back and gripping his silver cross pendant with his free hand. His red-rimmed eyes fixed on the ceiling, as if the carved patterns might blink back a solution.

Seungmin lay beside him, not speaking, just present. The weight of every word said and unsaid pressed between them, thicker than the duvet and heavier than stone.

"I'm sorry…" Seungmin whispered. The words scraped against his vocal cords like sandpaper. For once, he did not try to find a lesson in the pain or a justification for his insensitive remarks. He simply let the confession exist between them, honest and raw.

Jeongin's lips moved, and for a moment, Seungmin thought he would say nothing, letting silence be the only answer.

The shadows caught in the hollows beneath his eyes.

"I know." The words were both a verdict and an absolution, hanging in the air like mist before dawn. "But… you're right," Jeongin added softly. His hand tightened imperceptibly around Seungmin's, fingertips pressing into the valleys between knuckles, and for a while, they were two bodies joined only by the anchor of tangled fingers—a raft to prevent either from being swept away by their history.

"Even Pa teased Mom, calling her paranoid and mad, while she sawed a hole into our floorboards." Jeongin's voice took on the cadence of a half-remembered lullaby. "He insisted it was fear-mongering because such a powerful kingdom had absolutely nothing to gain from attacking Miroh. Everyone said the same thing.” There was bitterness in Jeongin's voice, but it was softer than before—worn down by grief rather than sharpened by rage.

"Dragons cast no shadow upon their own wings, only on those beneath them," Seungmin intoned, the old Levanter proverb rolling off his tongue like honey from a spoon, sweet with nostalgia and bitter with truth.

Jeongin finally looked at him as the last tears clung to his lashes, understanding.

Elves, once gods, possessed more power than anyone in all the realms. They were apex predators with teeth like polished ivory and eyes that shifted depending on their mood. How often did lions, with their golden manes catching sunlight like crowns, prey on other lions in their pride? No, they sought the unassuming antelope that slunk about in the tall, whispering grass, legs trembling beneath dappled shadows. And Miroh—fiercely independent with its thatched-roof cottages nestled between ancient oaks, happy in its obscurity, not even a speck compared to the gleaming marble towers and gilded domes of men's kingdoms—had simply been an opportunity for them to flex their talons.

Most of all, they sought to remind others that magic, shimmering and volatile, belonged to them.

See, the Mirohi practiced magic of their own kind, and the Felorans? Well, they just couldn't allow that.

It didn't matter to Felora that Mirohi magic, although from the same Vein, wasn't the same in the slightest. Mirohi magic posed no threat to anyone. The Mirohi—they made elixirs in clay pots bubbling over low flames, liquids turning from murky brown to clear amber. They spoke fire out of burns with whispered words that sounded like rustling leaves. To mend and heal, never maim and kill was their oath, sworn with hands pressed to soil. They had a knack for taming animals, coaxing even the most skittish fawns to eat from their palms. They held fertility ceremonies under the moonlight, silver beams cutting through smoke from cedar bonfires. Only when Jeongin was older, when his home—his culture—was merely a thing of the past written about in leather-bound books, did he learn that the fertility ceremonies held every so often meant lots of honeyed mead in wooden cups and orgies by the bonfire, bodies entwined like roots beneath the stars.

After a while, when his breathing had evened and the worst of the red splotches faded from his eyes like sunset giving way to night, Jeongin murmured, "You really shouldn’t have pressured me to tell him.” He swallowed. “But I am glad he knows now..." He trailed off, voice shaky as a newborn fawn. "Still, you need to go easy on him. He clearly didn't ask to be here. What if your mother randomly betrothed you to a Feloran and sent you to live there?" Jeongin turned his head toward Seungmin, who winced at the thought, his shoulders drawing up as if warding off a winter chill.

Seungmin's jaw tightened, the tendons in his neck visible beneath his skin. "Well, that would be different because, first of all, they're the problem—"

"Seungmin." Jeongin's voice was barely above a whisper, but it slid between them like a silver blade against silk. His eyes, still swollen from crying, held a fierce clarity that made Seungmin's words wither on his tongue. "Why must he answer for crimes he did not commit, crimes he obviously had no knowledge of?"

Seungmin's fingers twisted in the sheets. "I believe you now, Innie. I get it. He's a decent person and not at fault. But you let your guard down with him far too soon. You trusted him so easily, merely what, days after his arrival?" The moonlight caught in his dark hair as he shook his head. "And that scared me, okay? How could I not be suspicious? "

"Every ounce of apprehension and suspicion I had died the moment I watched him lie beside your brother, who treated him like shit, and endure excruciating pain just to relieve him from it." Jeongin's voice trembled, the memory etching fresh lines of anguish across his face. "That’s an act of selflessness so profound and unlike anything I’ve ever witnessed. He could have died, Seungmin."

"People can go to great lengths to gain the trust of their enemies," Seungmin reminded him, the words falling between them like stones into still water.

Jeongin met Seungmin's gaze fully, something both stern and unguarded in the set of his jaw. His lips, still raw from being worried between his teeth, parted to recite a Mirohi proverb, one of his mother's favorites. "Judge not the seed by the soil it was sown in; only by the fruit it bears."

Seungmin felt the weight of his words like a physical blow, pressing against his sternum until he could scarcely breathe. The way Jeongin was looking at him spoke of the same unblinking conviction Seungmin had once seen in himself. He tried to break the gaze, eyelashes fluttering downward, but Jeongin held it, as if willing Seungmin to acknowledge what was true.

Seungmin cleared his throat, a massive lump forming that felt like swallowing thorns. He knew exactly what Jeongin was insinuating. Things he had tried to forget and forced himself not to think of flooded him, memories rising like dark water around his ankles, his knees, his chest.

Jeongin's face filled with pity, the kind that burned worse than scorn. His fingers released the silver cross that had left an indentation in his palm, reaching instead to graze his fingertips under Seungmin's jaw.

"If I judged sons by the sins of their fathers, you would not be lying here in my bed right now," Jeongin whispered, fingers tracing the ridge of his collarbone. "But here you are."

Seungmin blinked rapidly in the dim light as he stared at Jeongin—really stared—as if seeing through layers of skin to the marrow beneath. Here was a man whose eyes held no judgment, whose slender fingers had memorized every scar on Seungmin's body, who stubbornly loved him despite knowing exactly where he came from, exactly whose blood ran thick in his veins.

They had never explicitly talked about it in detail before. The subject hung between them like a tapestry neither dared touch, its threads too delicate, too dangerous. Seungmin's throat constricted, the familiar copper taste of shame flooding his mouth. Guilt from such blatant hypocrisy crashed through him in waves that left him dizzy, his fingertips tingling with the need to grasp something solid.

"Father—" he finally managed, the words scraping his throat like broken glass.

"—was a monster," Jeongin finished. His voice remained soft as falling snow, but each syllable landed with the weight of an executioner's axe.

Seungmin minutely flinched, the tendons in his neck pulling even tauter. His mouth opened, then snapped shut, teeth clicking together. His jaw worked silently, the muscles there jumping beneath his skin.

"Ill-tempered, tyrannical, selfish, and cruel..." Jeongin continued, his voice fracturing like ice in spring thaw. His face crumpled, lines appearing between his brows, lips quivering like leaves in a storm. "You act like Felix breathing the same air as us is poisonous, as if we didn’t once share the space within these walls with your father. The things he did..." A tear escaped. "And yet, despite his persistence… You are nothing like him."

Seungmin wanted to believe him, but the echo of his own raised voice moments ago still hung in the air between them like smoke. His crippling fear resurfaced—that perhaps the apple did not fall as far from the twisted, gnarled tree as he strived for. Each morning when he splashed water on his face and looked up, droplets clinging to his lashes, he'd catch glimpses of his father's steel eyes staring back from the silver-backed mirror, narrowed with the same disappointment that had once made him tremble as a child.

The possibility frequently haunted him in the hollow hours before dawn. His recurring nightmare always began the same way: his hands transforming into his father's—larger, rougher, with thick veins like blue rivers. In these dreams, he'd watch helplessly as those hands—his hands—closed around throats, shattered bones, and drew crimson rivers across the flesh of everyone he loved, all while his mind screamed in silent horror.

Despite his fears and his shorter temper—the way his blood could simmer to boiling in moments when his eldest brother Minho remained placid as a winter lake—Seungmin clung to the certainty that there existed boundaries his father had trampled with boots that he himself would never approach, not even in his darkest moments.

The memories remained crystalline—Minho appearing like a specter in their doorway, hair wild as a madman's, eyes too bright in the midnight shadows. How he'd haul Seungmin and Jeongin from their warm bed down winding stone staircases to the cavernous kitchen where the hearth still glowed orange. There, with flour dusting their nightclothes like early snow, he’d force the two sleepy youngsters to fold misshapen crusts over berry filling that bubbled purple-black, making pies destined to cool untouched on windowsills. Or the elaborate treasure hunts through moonlit corridors, following clues scribbled in Minho's elegant hand that led them through cobwebbed passages where even the servants rarely ventured.

He vividly recalled the night he'd finally snapped—fourteen years old with shadows like bruises beneath his eyes from too many midnight adventures. His limbs had felt leaden, his eyelids sandpaper-rough as Minho's whispered pleas filtered through his consciousness.

"Leave me alone," he'd growled, burrowing deeper into his mattress, the linen sheets cool against his feverish skin. When Minho's hands had gripped his ankles, dragging him toward the edge of the bed, fury had erupted in Seungmin's chest. His knee had connected with Minho's face with a sickening crunch, cartilage giving way. The scarlet droplets had splattered across the floor like fallen rose petals, yet Minho had returned minutes later, blood crusted around his nostrils, wielding a hurdy-gurdy with its ornately carved handle. The instrument's discordant wailing had filled their chamber as Minho danced with manic energy, his eyes holding a desperate plea that contradicted his wide, forced smile. It was the eyes that haunted Seungmin still—windows to a truth his brother couldn't voice.

At the time, they believed Minho's midnight summons to be mere pranks—childish whims of an eccentric older brother. Only shortly after the broken nose incident did the horrific truth crystallize that Minho had been desperately shielding them from the muffled sounds of Hyunjin's suffering echoing through the castle's ancient corridors.

Minho lay delirious with fever one night, his skin scorching to the touch, sheets drenched in sweat that smelled of sickness and rot, his body too weak to perform his usual vigil. The telltale signs had been there—Joon's eyes glittering with that particular distaste at dinner, the way he'd stared at Hyunjin's throat when he swallowed. Without Minho's intervention, they had heard everything.

The scrape of Hyunjin's fingernails against stone as Joon dragged him down the corridor. The splintering crack of the door being thrown open. The sound of flesh striking flesh and a body hitting the floor.

They’d witnessed countless cruelties—beatings that left skin split and discolored, days without food, nights spent kneeling on stone until blood pooled beneath raw knees— and even endured some themselves at the hands of Seungmin’s father, but what slithered through the darkness that night was something more primeval, more monstrous. The sounds crawling through the crack left in their barely shut door weren't punishment; they were violation, desecration.

The first wail before something—a hand, a pillow—muffled it to wet, choking sobs. The rhythmic, relentless pounding of the bed frame against the wall like a death knell, each impact reverberating through the stone and into their bones. Joon's grunts growing more feral, more satisfied with each passing minute.

Jeongin's bladder had released, hot urine soaking through his nightclothes as the pair lay paralyzed, tears scalding their cheeks, breath trapped in their lungs until spots danced before their eyes. When Jeongin's trembling fingers found Seungmin's in the dark, his nails drew blood from Seungmin's palm.

The sudden silence afterward was almost worse than the sounds—a void that sucked all hope from the world. Seungmin had lunged from the bed, dragging the heavy oak chest across the floor with strength born of pure terror, barricading their door as his heart threatened to burst from his chest. His body convulsed with silent sobs as he pressed his back against the wood, convinced they were next, that his father's footsteps would soon approach their door.

He wanted so desperately to help Hyunjin, fight his father off, to burn him to ash—but he was just a kid, his limbs like twigs compared to his father's, his courage evaporating like morning dew under the scorching sun of his father's rage.

The next morning, when Hyunjin appeared in the kitchen—purple-black bruises flowering across his cheekbone, finger-shaped marks branded into his throat like a grotesque necklace—he cooked them breakfast with trembling hands that somehow never spilled. He grinned at them with split lips that had screamed raw hours before, his eyes fever-bright as he chirped a "good morning" in a voice scraped hollow. When he teased that they looked like they'd seen a ghost, Seungmin's stomach twisted violently. They silently maintained their ritual charade, choking down eggs that tasted of ash while Hyunjin's pride hung between them like a tattered battle flag. They'd seen him return from countless nights looking half-dead, but they'd give him this one mercy—the illusion that his shame remained invisible.

When Minho finally emerged from his quarantine, his eyes met theirs across the breakfast table, and something shattered between them—the fragile glass wall of childhood innocence. His face crumpled like parchment in flame. No words passed his bloodless lips, but his hands trembled violently as he gripped the table edge, knuckles bleached white with the strain of bearing this new, terrible weight.

The next time he appeared in their doorway, hollow-eyed and serious, they followed without hesitation, their small bodies electric with dread.

Gone were the midnight adventures—no more flour-dusted laughter or treasure maps. Instead, they huddled in dark corners of the castle, three small bodies pressed together like wounded animals, hearts thundering in unison with each distant sound. Minho's arm would tighten around them at every creak. Minho was their sentinel in the darkness, guardian of their terror, waiting for the monster to finish feeding.

The memory of Minho's blood-splattered nightclothes after Seungmin's accidental kick, the acrid smell of salt-burned berry pies abandoned on windowsills, the discordant wailing of that hurdy-gurdy played with frantic energy—all took on a devastating new gravity. Each seemingly random act revealed itself as a desperate barrier erected by a boy barely into manhood, determined to preserve what little innocence remained in a household where stone walls couldn't muffle the sounds of cruelty.

Suddenly, Seungmin felt Jeongin's thumb brush away dampness from the corner of his eye, the gentle pressure like a butterfly's wing against his heated skin. The touch anchored him, pulling him from the undertow of racing thoughts and memories that threatened to drown him in their dark currents. He blinked, his vision clearing as the present moment focused around him—the soft glow of warm light catching on Jeongin's silver cross, the faint scent of white musk from the bedsheets, and those narrow eyes watching him with unwavering tenderness.

The words tore from Seungmin's throat like shards of glass, scraping his insides raw. "I'm sorry." His face crumpled, tears carving glistening rivulets down his flushed cheeks. His shoulders—usually squared with stubborn pride—now trembled violently with each ragged breath that escaped his lungs in broken gasps. The pain that had festered beneath his carefully constructed composure for years now leaked through the cracks like dark water through damaged stone. "For everything. Yelling at you... What I said... Being so—" His voice fractured, splintering on the jagged edges of his shame. "I don't want to be like that... I'm so sorry... I don't want to be—"

Jeongin rolled onto his elbows, the mattress dipping beneath his frame as he leaned in. His lips—chapped from worry but impossibly soft—pressed against Seungmin's in the sweetest, chastest kiss.

When he pulled back, his voice remained steady as ancient bedrock though his fox-like eyes, rimmed with crimson and glistening with fresh, unshed tears, held Seungmin's gaze with unflinching certainty. "You are not your father, and you never will be." The words hung between them, solid as a vow. "Perhaps Felix is as far from his father’s shadow as you are from yours."

Seungmin sobbed even harder, his chest heaving. "I'm a fucking hypocrite."
Jeongin draped half of his body over his distraught lover, the warmth creating a cocoon of shared breath and heartbeats.

"Will you please give him a chance? He’s so kind and helpful. He’s helped me immensely in the infirmary, and I never once asked him to. You don't have to like him, but… will you at least try to respect him and stop looking at him as if he were the one who burned Miroh?" Jeongin's voice was small, barely above a whisper, but the request hung between them like an unbreakable thread of silver.

As Seungmin looked into those comforting eyes, he accepted that there would never exist a world in which he could refuse Jeongin anything. He nodded, turning into his lover and pressing his face into the hollow of Jeongin's neck, where the skin was thin over the pulse point and smelled of medicinal herbs. He hid there for a while, breathing in the familiar scent.

When he spoke again, his voice was muffled against warm skin, careful, almost childlike, the words vibrating against Jeongin's collarbone. "I hate him so fucking much."

Jeongin knew he wasn't talking about Felix but about the father whose shadow still stretched across years like a persistent bloodstain. He let the statement hang there in the dim light, giving the feeling a home as he stroked Seungmin's sweat-dampened hair, his fingers threading through the soft strands that felt like corn silk between his fingertips, slow and soothing, like the hush of wind through pine needles at midnight when the moon casts silver nets across the forest floor.

“Why couldn’t I just… do something?” Seungmin wept quietly.

Jeongin let him sit in that question, let it echo through the shared heat of the blanket, and let the ache in their chests find its slow, raw way back to quiet.

In the end, there was nothing to say, no comfort large enough, but Seungmin seemed to weather it better with Jeongin close, his breathing eventually lengthening, deepening, until they lay together in a hush.

Jeongin pressed his lips to Seungmin’s hair. “I love you,” he whispered, not because it would erase the past, but because it was the only invocation that could ever, truly, curse it.

Seungmin’s pulse shuddered beneath Jeongin’s fingers. “I love you,” he replied thickly, voice hoarse but certain, every syllable a lifeline in the dark. “I’m so sorry…”

“Shhh,” Jeongin pressed his nose to Seungmin’s hair, the crown of his head, and inhaled. They lay that way, damp faces pressed together, the covers growing humid and tangled around their hips. If anyone entered now, they would look small and broken, like two children lost in a world too wounded for them.

Neither cared.

They found a faltering kind of peace in this: the honest silence after all the words were finally spent.

I'll make it right with Felix," Seungmin mumbled, his bloodshot eyes meeting Jeongin's warm gaze.

It was as if the pledge was more to himself than to Jeongin, but the heat of Jeongin's solid hand over his own—calloused from years of stitching wounds and grinding herbs with mortar and pestle—anchored the promise to something tangible in this world of ghosts and regrets.

"Give him time," Jeongin said gently. "Let him breathe. Let him mourn."

Seungmin nodded before pressing his lips so gently to Jeongin's that it felt like the first brush of dawn against the horizon.

The kiss deepened, lingering there until both were out of breath, their lungs burning sweetly, and the ache in their jaws turned slowly into chuckles that bubbled up from some untouched well of joy within them.

They didn't move for a long time after, just lay face to face on the rumpled sheets that smelled of sleep and tears, nothing separating them but the thin thread of air that carried their mingled breath back and forth like a secret.

Their hands remained entwined, fingers interlaced so tightly that the knuckles whitened, as if they were teenagers again, braced against a storm by the fire of their own small defiance—a flame that had somehow survived every bitter wind that had tried to extinguish it.