#between the sun and the moon | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mirisss · 2 days ago

Text

Prologue

Between the Sun and the Moon prologue

Heeseung x female reader x Sunghoon

Warnings: angst, hatred, curses, mental abuse, favoritism, love triangle,

Summary: Two princes, one kingdom, one father, one favorite. A growing distance between brothers, could it all possibly be solved by a mystic shadow who offers one a deal? Or will it be what tears them apart? Could it all be solved by love? But if they love the same person, how will the story end?

Wordcount ≈ 2.5k

Chapter 1

The palace of Eldris was a place of grandeur, its golden spires piercing the clouds and its halls adorned with tapestries that told the kingdom’s history. For the two young princes, it was a sprawling playground filled with endless possibilities.

As children, Heeseung and Sunghoon were inseparable. Only a year apart in age, they shared everything: secrets whispered under the covers, daring escapades into the castle kitchens, and dreams of a future where they ruled side by side. Heeseung, the older of the two, always took the lead, guiding Sunghoon through their misadventures with a steady hand and a warm smile.

One summer afternoon, when Heeseung was eight and Sunghoon seven, they stood on the palace balcony overlooking the sprawling gardens. Sunghoon pointed to the horizon, where the mountains kissed the sky. “Do you think we’ll ever go that far, hyung?”

“Of course,” Heeseung replied confidently. “We’ll go everywhere. Together.”

Sunghoon beamed, his trust in his brother absolute. But that promise, like so many childhood dreams, would eventually be forgotten.

As they grew older, the paths of the two princes began to diverge. At nine years old, Heeseung was thrust into rigorous training for his future as king. His days were consumed by lessons in diplomacy, military strategy, and the ancient laws of Eldris.

“Focus, Heeseung,” the king would say, his voice devoid of warmth. “Every decision you make as a ruler will shape the future of this kingdom. You must be flawless.”

Flawless. The word echoed in Heeseung’s mind every time he stumbled over a map or failed to recite the lineage of a neighboring kingdom. His father’s disappointment was a constant shadow, a weight that pressed down on him until he could barely breathe.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon’s life remained carefree. With no expectation of the throne, he roamed the palace freely, his laughter echoing through the halls. He spent his days sparring in the courtyard, sneaking sweets from the kitchens, or galloping through the fields with his best friend, Jay, the son of a nobleman. “Jay, look at this!” Sunghoon called one morning, holding up a rabbit he’d caught in a snare. “Hyung taught me how to set these traps when we were little. Isn’t it cool?” Jay grinned. “Your brother must be pretty smart.” “Yeah,” Sunghoon said with a fond smile. “He’s the smartest person I know.” But Heeseung wasn’t smiling. Watching from the study window, he saw his brother’s carefree joy and felt a pang of something bitter. Jealousy? Resentment? He didn’t know. All he knew was that Sunghoon’s laughter reminded him of the freedom he’d lost.

The king’s favoritism wasn’t spoken aloud, but it was felt in a thousand small ways. When Sunghoon entered a room, King Hwan’s eyes would soften, his stern demeanor giving way to indulgent smiles.

“You have a natural charisma, Sunghoon,” the king said one evening during dinner, as Sunghoon regaled the court with tales of his latest adventure. “If only you’d been born first.”

The words struck Heeseung like a blow, though he kept his expression neutral. He had long since learned to mask his feelings, to bury them deep where no one could see. Sunghoon, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension, simply grinned and said, “But then Heeseung-hyung wouldn’t be king, and he’s way better at all that serious stuff than me.” Heeseung forced a tight smile, but inside, his chest ached. Sunghoon’s innocence only made the sting worse.

By the time Heeseung was fifteen and Sunghoon fourteen, their bond had frayed to a thread. Sunghoon, still blissfully unaware of the pressure Heeseung faced, continued to live his life surrounded by friends and admirers. Jay was his constant companion, and together they became a fixture of the court, their antics earning both scolding and praise.

Heeseung, on the other hand, had retreated into himself. His once-warm demeanor had grown cold, his words clipped and formal. He spent his days in solitude, poring over ledgers and maps, determined to meet his father’s impossible expectations.

One afternoon, Sunghoon found Heeseung in the library, his brow furrowed as he scribbled notes. “Hyung,” Sunghoon said brightly, “Jay and I are going to ride down to the river. Want to come?” “No,” Heeseung replied without looking up. Sunghoon frowned. “You never come with us anymore. Don’t you miss having fun?” “I don’t have time for fun,” Heeseung said sharply. “Some of us have responsibilities.” The words stung, but Sunghoon simply shrugged and left. Heeseung watched him go, the familiar pang of regret twisting in his chest. But he told himself it was for the best. If Sunghoon stayed away, he wouldn’t see the cracks in Heeseung’s armor, the flaws that their father never failed to point out. Sunghoon, for his part, didn’t dwell on his brother’s coldness. He had Jay, his friends, and the admiration of the court to keep him happy. Heeseung’s distance was simply another part of life, like the changing seasons—something to accept, not question. But deep down, the rift between them was growing, and neither brother realized how much it would cost them both.

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The grand throne room of Eldor Keep was awash in golden light, the high ceilings adorned with banners bearing the crest of the royal family. Courtiers, nobles, and emissaries from far-off lands filled the chamber, their voices a low hum of anticipation. Today was the day Prince Heeseung would be crowned as the official crown prince, marking his place as the next ruler of Eldris.

For weeks, Heeseung had prepared tirelessly. Every bow, every step, every word he would speak had been rehearsed to perfection. He told himself that this was it—the moment he had worked for all his life. The moment he would prove himself to his father.

As the ceremonial horns sounded, the room fell silent. The grand doors at the far end of the hall opened, and Heeseung stepped through. Clad in an embroidered crimson robe with gold accents, he looked every inch the future king. His expression was stoic, but inside, his heart raced.

He walked down the long carpeted aisle, his gaze fixed on the throne. King Hwan sat tall and imposing, his crown gleaming under the sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows. Beside him stood Sunghoon, dressed in simpler but no less elegant attire, his bright smile a stark contrast to Heeseung’s solemnity.

As Heeseung approached, he saw it—the fleeting look in his father’s eyes. Not pride, not approval, but disappointment.

Heeseung faltered for the briefest of moments, his carefully constructed composure cracking at the edges. His eyes shifted to Sunghoon, and there it was: the light in their father’s gaze. A warmth reserved not for the son who had spent his life striving for perfection, but for the one who had never needed to try.

The words of the ceremony barely registered as Heeseung knelt before the throne. The High Chancellor’s voice echoed through the chamber, reciting the ancient rites. Heeseung bowed his head as the ceremonial crown—a circlet of gold inlaid with rubies—was placed upon him.

“Rise, Crown Prince Heeseung, heir to the throne of Eldris,” the Chancellor declared.

The crowd erupted into polite applause, but Heeseung heard none of it. As he rose to his feet, his gaze flickered to his father once more, searching for even a hint of approval. He found none.

Instead, King Hwan turned to Sunghoon, a small smile playing at his lips as he leaned over to whisper something. Sunghoon laughed softly, his eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and joy.

Heeseung’s chest tightened. The weight of the crown on his head felt unbearable, a cruel reminder that no matter how high he rose, he would never be enough.

Later that evening, the palace was alive with celebration. Music filled the halls, and tables groaned under the weight of elaborate feasts. Nobles mingled, raising goblets of wine in Heeseung’s honor, but the crown prince himself was nowhere to be found.

Heeseung stood alone on a secluded balcony, the cool night air brushing against his face. The crown rested on a nearby table, discarded like a burden he couldn’t bear.

From the ballroom below, he could hear his old friends’ laughter. It was a sound that once brought him comfort, but now it only deepened the hollow ache in his chest.

“Hyung!”

Heeseung turned to see Sunghoon stepping onto the balcony, a goblet in his hand and a carefree smile on his face. “Why are you hiding out here? This is your night!”

“I needed some air,” Heeseung replied, his voice even.

Sunghoon leaned against the railing beside him, oblivious to the turmoil simmering beneath the surface. “Everyone’s talking about how great you looked today. Jay said you looked like a proper king already.”

“Did he?” Heeseung said absently, staring out at the darkened gardens.

“Yeah! And Father looked proud, don’t you think?” Sunghoon continued, his smile unwavering.

Heeseung’s hands clenched at his sides, but he forced himself to nod. “Maybe.”

Sunghoon didn’t notice the tension in his brother’s voice. “Anyway, you should come back inside. It’s your celebration, after all.”

“I’ll join you later,” Heeseung said curtly.

“Alright,” Sunghoon said, though he lingered for a moment before heading back inside.

As the door closed behind him, Heeseung exhaled shakily. The crown on the table seemed to glint mockingly in the moonlight.

“They’ll never see me,” he whispered to the night. “Not for who I really am.”

Far below, the sounds of laughter and music carried on, as though the weight of the world wasn’t pressing down on the young man destined to carry it.

The night had grown unnaturally quiet. Heeseung stood on the balcony, the soft hum of celebration behind him fading into the stillness of the courtyard below. His gaze drifted down, drawn by a strange flickering movement.

The shadows in the courtyard were shifting, writhing as if alive. They danced along the cobblestones, stretching and twisting in ways that defied the light of the moon. Heeseung’s breath caught in his throat.

“This isn’t right,” he muttered, stepping back from the edge.

Before he could turn to leave, the shadows coalesced into a form. A figure, humanoid but impossibly dark, rose from the ground as if pulled from the very fabric of the night. Its shape was indistinct, its edges rippling like smoke. Two faint, glowing orbs where its eyes should be fixed on Heeseung, and the air grew heavy with an unnatural chill.

“Crown Prince,” the creature said, its voice a soft hiss that seemed to echo inside Heeseung’s mind.

Heeseung froze. Every instinct screamed at him to call for the guards, but his voice wouldn’t come. The creature took a step closer, its movements fluid and otherworldly.

“Who—what are you?” Heeseung demanded, forcing his voice to steady.

“I am a shadow,” the creature replied, “a fragment of what lingers beyond the veil of your world. And I have watched you.”

“Watched me?”

The creature inclined its head. “Your pain, your struggle. Your desperate yearning for the approval of a man who sees you only through the lens of disappointment.”

Heeseung’s fists clenched. “What do you want?”

The shadow’s glowing eyes narrowed, as if smiling without a mouth. “I want to offer you what you desire most.”

It raised a hand—or something like a hand—and the air shimmered between them. In the haze, Heeseung saw a vision of his father’s face, not cold and distant as it had always been, but warm and proud.

“You can make him proud of me?” Heeseung whispered, his voice barely audible.

“I can,” the creature said. “With my power, the king will see you—not the shadow of what he wishes you to be, but the son who stands before him. The heir he cannot deny.”

The vision vanished, and the creature’s tone turned sharp. “But all power comes with a price.”

Heeseung narrowed his eyes. “What’s the price?”

The creature stepped closer, its presence overwhelming. “There is a girl,” it said, its voice low and resonant. “She is kind, but strong-willed. A soul that burns brightly even in the darkest of places. You must make her fall in love with you before the year ends.”

Heeseung’s heart raced. “And if I succeed?”

“Your father will see you as you have always wished to be seen. You will no longer live in the shadow of your brother.”

“And if I fail?”

The creature’s form seemed to grow darker, its edges fraying into tendrils of shadow. “You will take my place, Crown Prince. You will become a shadow—a faint memory, a whisper lost to the wind. Your brother will take the throne, and your name will fade into obscurity.”

Heeseung stared at the creature, his mind reeling. The weight of the deal pressed against him, as heavy as the crown on his head.

“What’s her name?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

The creature’s glowing eyes flared, and a single name drifted through the air like a whisper:

“Yn.”

Heeseung’s grip on the balcony railing tightened. The offer was impossible, and yet he couldn’t deny the flicker of hope it sparked within him. To finally be seen by his father, to step out of Sunghoon’s shadow—it was everything he had ever wanted.

But the risk was unimaginable.

“What’s to stop you from taking me anyway?” Heeseung asked, his voice low.

“I am bound by the terms of the deal,” the creature said. “If you succeed, I am powerless to harm you. But if you fail…”

The shadow didn’t finish, letting the threat hang in the air.

Heeseung hesitated, his mind racing. The image of his father’s disappointed eyes flashed in his memory, followed by the sound of Sunghoon’s laughter echoing through the halls.

“I’ll do it,” he said finally, his voice steady.

The creature’s form rippled, and it extended a hand of shadow. “Then we have a pact, Crown Prince.”

Heeseung reached out, his fingers brushing the cold, intangible surface of the creature’s hand. The world seemed to shudder, and a faint mark burned itself into the skin of his palm—a swirling, shadowy sigil that vanished as quickly as it appeared.

“Remember, Heeseung,” the creature said, its voice fading as its form dissolved back into the darkness. “The clock is ticking.”

And then it was gone, leaving Heeseung alone under the weight of the stars.

He looked down at his palm, where the mark had been. The deal was done.

Somewhere in the kingdom, a girl named Yn held the key to his future. And the stakes couldn’t have been higher.