#lyn-fanworks

[lynnt1ny]

You're Magic To Me: Ch. 2

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Woosan (Multichaptered; Prince!Wooyoung and Servant!San)

Full WC: 91.3k Ch. 2 WC: 3.9k

Fic Blurb:

Wooyoung didn’t know what he did to deserve such a horrible manservant. With the weight of the kingdom over his head and the constant demands of his father, he couldn’t afford to deal with this every day. But why did San have to be so bloody endearing?  After a series of coincidences, San found himself stuck at the Prince’s side, day in and day out. Of course he’d accidentally fall in love along the way. San didn’t know what to expect when he moved into the castle, but it certainly wasn’t this.  --- Aka, my Merlin-obsessed ass decided to write a Merlin-inspired fic.

The Nightmare Begins 

After a week of gathering herbs from the surrounding forests and learning about a variety of afflictions and remedies, San felt pretty accustomed to life at the castle. It was hard-going at first: He still occasionally found himself lost in the maze of corridors, but he hadn’t run into any royals or knights after the first day, so he’d call it a win. 

Hongjoong was, as he was told earlier, the perfect mentor. San couldn’t have asked for better. Hongjoong clearly loved his work, and while San couldn’t quite replicate his passion for medicine, Hongjoong was a constant source of energy and inspiration. 

Every day, San looked forward to sitting by the fire with Hongjoong in the evenings, sometimes with Yeosang popping in to say hello. It was almost familial, and San finally felt like he had carved a place for himself in the castle. 

Hongjoong took care of most of the patients that had come in so far, but San was always there, watching. He was constantly in awe of how calm and gentle Hongjoong was with those who came in. Now, he knew exactly how Hongoong got both his position and well-rounded reputation. 

However, today, Hongjoong was going to attend to the King. 

San sat at one of the desks in the chamber, a book open in front of him. He deliberately avoided Hongjoong’s eye. He hoped today would be the exception to their new routine; hopefully, today, he wouldn’t have to go with him.   

Hongjoong walked over and placed a hand on San’s shoulder, and San gave him a tentative smile. 

“I suppose I won’t get this day off?” 

“No.” Hongjoong replied. “You must be able to treat the King if something happens while I’m away.” 

“You’re going away?” San asked. A knot of worry formed in his stomach. He didn’t think he’d be able to shoulder Hongjoong’s workload so early. 

But his worry disappeared as Hongjoong laughed. “Not now. But something may happen while I’m down in the lower villages or really, anywhere else other than the castle.” He smiled sympathetically. “That’s why you’re here, you know. I can’t be everywhere at once, and in case of an emergency…” he shrugged. 

And now, that’s how San found himself trailing behind Hongjoong, a crate of supplies in his arms and a furrow between his eyebrows. 

He couldn’t believe that he was mere footsteps away from meeting King Beomseok.  

Beomseok was well known even beyond the borders of Sinsu. While nobody said he was downright cruel, he was known to have a temper. He ruled with an iron fist, and he had brought Sinsu many years of prosperity, conquering lands and expanding the kingdom to great lengths. 

Far too soon, they stopped in front of a pair of fortified doors. A clump of guards stood there, nodding to Hongjoong as they walked past. 

“Remember to address him properly,” he whispered to San. “It’d be best to leave a good first impression.” 

San nodded, and Hongjoong knocked on the door. “Kim Hongjoong, Your Majesty,” he called out. “And my new apprentice.” 

“Yes, come in,” San heard a deep voice respond, muffled by the barrier. 

The doors creaked as the guards pushed them open, standing to the side to allow them entrance. San gulped as Hongjoong walked in, and he hesitated before following behind. By the end of this, he just knew that he’d  find a way to mess this up: he’ll drop the supplies, or he’ll trip over his own feet and make a fool of himself. Or worse of all: he’ll let his mouth run away again, just as it had with the Prince. 

The thought came to him then- Wooyoung wouldn’t tell his father about what happened earlier, right? Yes, he was only an apprentice, but not only had San spilt water all over his clothes, but he called him a twat of all things. 

 ‘If my father heard you saying things like that, he’d have you flogged.’

San knew he was breathing heavily now. He hoped the weight in his arms and the flight of stairs worked as a fair excuse, but he did what he does best: overthink things until it sent him into a panic. 

If Wooyoung did tell Beomseok, something would have happened by now, right? Yes, he was definitely overthinking this. There was no way Wooyoung even knew who he was, right? He didn’t remember saying his name...

The King’s chambers were unlike anything San had seen before. Everywhere he looked, he could only see wealth and intricacies. The room itself was huge. Inside, it had a large bed in the corner, a table with neat stacks of paper adorning it, and a long dining table, gilded in gold. Wardrobes and shelves took up space along the walls, and everything was pristine. San didn’t think he’d be able to find one spec of dust. Overall, it seemed very practical, for living’s quarters, but it exuded a sense of affluence at the same time. 

The man himself sat at his table. He didn’t look like San imagined he would. The King had dark hair, like his son, and he wore simple attire at the moment. Deep-set wrinkles betrayed his age, and his eyes held a somber edge to them. Beomseok scratched thoughtfully at a trace of stubble on his chin and kept his focus on his work. The lack of attention only unnerved San even more. 

“Your Majesty,” Hongjoong began. “What can I do for you today?” 

Without looking up, Beomseok beckoned them closer and said, “Draw yourself some chairs and sit.” 

Hongjoong bowed deeply and took a chair from the dining table. San scurried after him to do the same. Before he knew it, he was uncomfortably close to the King, sitting across from him. He prayed that Beomseok wouldn’t pay him any attention.

“I’ve had the worst migraine today,” Beomseok finally said. He looked up at them then, and San felt a chill down his spine when his beady eyes landed on him. “Do you have a sufficient tonic that could help?” 

Hongjoong nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty, I do.” He gestured for San to hand him the crate of supplies. With nothing to do with his hands now, San wrung his fingers together, avoiding the King’s eyes.

“With all due respect, what has been causing you trouble, Your Highness?” Hongjoong said as he picked out a few bottles. “Learning the cause of a migraine is an easy way to fix it.”

San almost gasped at the question. It seemed too invasive to ask the King. A new batch of butterflies set loose in his stomach, and not the good kind.

However, Beomseok didn’t seem to be too bothered by the question. He even smiled at Hongjoong, like they were old friends. San shouldn’t be surprised at this point- as literally everyone had said, Hongjoong was friends with everyone, and it seemed the King was no exception. 

Suddenly, Hongjoong’s strangely calm demeanor in this situation made a lot more sense. 

“It’s my son,” Beomseok said. “He can’t seem to keep a manservant in his service. At this point, we’ve gone through all of the available servants I can trust with the job.” 

His words didn’t surprise San at all. Just from one meeting, San knew he wouldn’t want to be stuck with Wooyoung for long periods of time either. 

“It’s such a trivial matter, but it’s becoming such a nuisance that even I must get involved.” 

Hongjoong began mixing a small concoction in a cup. San vaguely recognized a few of the ingredients Hongjoong had put in the tonic, but his attention was too skewed to try to learn anything useful now.

 “Are they leaving on their own accord?” Hongjoong asked. 

Beomseok leaned back against his chair. San saw the King eyeing his fidgeting hands, and San now focused on keeping them still on his lap. 

“No, Wooyoung is getting rid of them himself. He claims they’re too boring. I’m afraid he’s set his standards too high for our working class,” Beomseok said. 

San winced, stealing another glance at Hongjoong, but the man had a smile on his face. “I’m sure he’ll find someone to take the position. There are many able-bodied men in the kingdom,” Hongjoong said.

“And here, the source of the problem,” Beomseok said. “He refuses to find a replacement. I will have to resort to finding one for him myself. It’s no job for a king.” Beomseok’s eyes turned dark for a second, and San could see a flash of rage there, so fleeting that he would have missed it if he were not paying close attention. “If I, the King himself, assigns Wooyoung a manservant, that position must stay permanently filled by that man, or consequences may be in order.” 

San’s breath hitched, the words sending a faint wave of fear over him. He understood why, though. It would be a blow to Bomseok’s reputation if Wooyoung sacked the one man the King picked out himself. Involving the King in such a trifling matter was bad enough. The whole thing made San’s head spin, and he understood the source of Beomseok’s migraine. 

“Well, I may not be able to help in the matter directly, but this is the least I can do,” Hongjoong said, handing the completed tonic to the King. “If there’s anything else I can do to help, don’t hesitate to call.” 

San felt relieved, as the conversation seemed to be ending, and they were soon to be on their way. The King only had to dismiss them, and he could go back and be anywhere but here. 

Beomseok’s gaze snapped to him, then. “Before you leave, Hongjoong, this is your new apprentice?” he asked. 

“Yes, Your Majesty.” 

Beomseok scrutinized him, his narrowed eyes sending waves of panic over San. “Does he speak?” 

San’s breath hitched and he hurried to say, “Yes, I’m Choi San.” He stumbled over the words.

Hongjoong kicked his shin. 

“Your Highness,” San tacked on at the last second. “I arrived only a few days ago.” 

“Arrived?” Beomseok lifted a dark eyebrow and looked back at Hongjoong. San allowed himself to take a deep breath with those calculating eyes off of him. 

“I met his mother during one of my visits to the lower towns,” Hongjoong said. “We’ve become close, and I can assure you of his loyalty to the crown.” 

“I’ll hold you to it,” the King said. “But I’m afraid anything he does will reflect onto you, and any form of dissent on his end will damage your position in my court.” 

Hongjoong nodded, and for the first time since they walked in, his calm demeanor broke, and San could see his shoulders tense. 

The King laughed. 

“Don’t worry, old friend. I like him already. I can tell he has many qualities an apprentice, or servant, should have.” San let himself give the King a small smile at the words, though it felt forced to him and probably came across that way as well. 

“That’s very kind of you, Your Majesty,” Hongjoong said. 

The King nodded, and after a slight pause, he clapped his hands together. “Well, I believe that is all. You’re both dismissed.” 

Both San and Hongjoong stood, the former stumbling slightly, and took their leave after a quick bow. San let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding after they crossed the doorway, the guards watching as they made their way back to the physician’s chambers. 

“Well, that could have gone a lot worse,” Hongjoong said, closing the door behind them.

“That’s for sure.” 

“You know, you don’t have to be so afraid of him,” Hongjoong said. “As long as you’re in his good graces, there’s nothing to fear.” 

San thought back to his encounter with Wooyoung. He didn’t have the best track record with royals, and he definitely didn’t want to test that with the King. 

“I’m not sure if it’ll be easy for me to stay in his ‘good graces,’” San mumbled. 

The sun had begun its descent, and the familiar room was bathed in a golden glow. San fell back into one of the cots and let out a groan. He couldn’t help but let his eyelids droop, the events of the day wearing him thin. 

“Hey, I’m going to go fetch some soup from the kitchens. Why don’t you take some time to rest?” Hongjoong said, seeming unaffected by everything. 

“Gladly.” 

 (。-`ω´-)

Wooyoung was stressed. 

The knights were doing well in training, that was for sure, but there was something missing. There was a certain clumsiness to the blows and drills today, and every wrong movement caught Wooyoung’s eye. He found himself on edge for the entirety of today’s training. 

It didn’t help that there was no one there to clean or hold his equipment.  Of course, it was technically his fault, but who could blame him? The last few servants he’d gone through were completely worthless. 

But as much as he wanted the endless drills to end, he dreaded what would come after. His father had asked to dine with him after the session, and he never looked forward to those talks. 

Wooyoung weaved his way between his sparring knights. They were practicing simple drills, but tiring and repetitive ones at that. Drops of sweat dripped down their faces, and the field was full of heaving breathing and the clang of metal. The sky darkened, and Wooyoung knew he couldn’t drag this out any longer. 

“Hold,” he called out, and around him, the knights ceased in their actions. Wooyoung felt their attention shift to him, all eyes in his direction. “That will be all for today. Get some rest. We have a lot of kinks to work out tomorrow.” 

At the dismissal, the field cleared as the men dispersed. Wooyoung caught the eye of Jongho, one of his best knights, and he gave him a slight nod. Jongho had been the only knight who had come close to beating him in combat today. Wooyoung’s arms still ached from blocking his blows. Wooyoung saw a lot of potential in him, and he knew Jongho would grow to become one of Sinsu’s best. 

Wooyoung had a tight-knit group of knights whom he trusted the most, Jongho being one of them. While all of the knights swore loyalty to the King, there were a few whose allegiance fell to Wooyoung in the end. If Wooyoung ever were to defy his father, he knew those few knights would follow him to the ends of the earth.

He gave Yunho and Mingi a slight wave as he walked past. He carried his own equipment, and again, he cursed the servants he had dismissed. 

Wooyoung had a sneaking suspicion that this was what his father wanted to talk to him about- his obvious lack of a servant would be sure to turn some heads. Not only that, but his chambers were beginning to get cluttered with no one there to clean them. 

He reached the pavilion that housed all of their training equipment and tossed everything aside. Someone else would take care of it at some point. He struggled out of the armor, fiddling with all of the buckles and straps that he never took the time to familiarize himself with. Once again, that was a servant’s job, he thought with a frown. 

He needed to stop by his rooms and freshen up before meeting his father. On the way, his thoughts began to wander. He noticed that it happened a lot in the past week- He’d be busy doing something important — whether his own duties or an order from his father — and then a certain face would pop into his thoughts, usually accompanied with a snarky voice and an impish smile. 

The truth was, he still hadn’t recovered from his encounter with Dimples (the nickname sounded so stupid in his head, but in his defense, he didn’t have much to work with). 

There was something so irritating about him, yet there was something so compelling at the same time. Wooyoung found himself looking all the serving boys in the face now, hoping to catch a familiar one, but all he could see were the same, boring, submissive eyes.

There was one time he thought he heard Dimples’ voice, but when he rounded the corner, it was just Yeosang snickering to himself in the hallway, footsteps echoing in the opposite direction. He thought about asking Yeosang about it, but he decided against it. Yeosang would definitely press him on why he was asking, and Wooyoung wouldn’t have an answer for him. 

At one point, Wooyoung entertained the idea of having Dimples as his manservant instead of the usual fodder... And then he dropped the thought immediately. If he saw those eyes first thing every morning, he’d probably go insane. 

Those eyes made him want to punch a wall. 

But for now, he needed to forget about Dimples. He needed to dine with his father, and he needed to better himself as a prince for his people (minus Dimples; he could go rot in hell). 

When Wooyoung walked into Beomseok’s rooms, the King was already eating at the dining table. 

“You’re late,” his father said. A plate had already been prepared for Wooyoung at his father’s side: bread, cheese, a few vegetables, and a slab of beef, spiced so heavily that Wooyoung could smell it from the doorway.

“My apologies, I had a few complications,” Wooyoung said. 

Beomseok narrowed his eyes, and Wooyoung gulped. He waited until his father spoke again. 

“Come. Sit.” 

Wooyoung sat at the table and dug into the food. They settled into a silence. Wooyoung wouldn’t call it a comfortable one, but the King didn’t seem too irritated at the moment. Wooyoung felt his nerves settle. Next to him, Beomseok cleared his throat. 

“Hongjoong has a new apprentice,” his father said. “Have you met him?” 

“No, I’m afraid not,” Wooyoung said. He wasn’t close to Hongjoong- not like Yeosang or the rest of the bloody castle. Hongjoong even had Wooyoung’s father wrapped around his finger. Sometimes, Wooyoung thought Beomseok wished Hongjoong were his son instead of himself, but he cast those thoughts aside as soon as they came up. “I’m sure he’ll do well as long as Hongjoong keeps him out of trouble,” he added on. 

“I doubt he will get into any. He was the epitome of a perfect servant.” 

Wooyoung’s eyes almost bugged out of his head. Coming from his father, that was high praise. Something almost like jealousy turned his stomach, but he ignored it. 

“Oh? What makes you think so?” Wooyoung swallowed around his fork, his interest peaked about the new apprentice. To catch the King’s eye was a big deal. 

“He doesn’t speak unless spoken to, and to be an apprentice for Hongjoong, he must be somewhat competent,” the King said. “What more could you ask?” 

Oh. 

So this apprentice was just like the others. 

Wooyoung felt his curiosity drain immediately. Of course, that was all his father cared about. To be honest, those were the exact qualities he had sent the others away for. 

“Why, may I ask, are we talking about the physician’s apprentice? Is there another matter you wish to discuss?” 

“That’s just the thing. You’ve exhausted all of our options,” the King said. “You know exactly where this conversation is going, Jung Wooyoung.” 

Wooyoung desperately tried to think of excuses to get out of this, but the whole ordeal was useless. “But he already has a position?” he said. His voice grew squeaky the way it usually does when he gets nervous; a trait he’d spent years trying to beat out of his system to no avail. “He has a good place in court. Stripping him of that would be cruel.” 

The King shook his head. “A place in the royal household is respected, even as a servant.” He took a sip of wine. “And I think we can all agree that Hongjoong is too young to have an apprentice now. It isn’t urgent.”

Wooyoung grimaced.

“You leave me no choice, Wooyoung. You’ve rejected our best servants, and this is a problem that needs to be resolved quickly. I don’t have time to mull over the choices for you.” Beomseok’s voice grew agitated, and Wooyoung shrank back. “I am the King. This is not something I should be doing for you. If I hear that you’re unsatisfied, there will be consequences for both of you.” 

Wooyoung set his fork down, his appetite lost. “Hongjoong was clearing out his storage for an apprentice,” he mumbled. “Are you going to kick him out of his living quarters as well?” 

Beomseok scoffed. “That’s a matter he’ll have to settle with Hongjoong. I don’t have time to care.” 

Wooyoung’s fists clenched on his lap, and his nails bit into his palms. He knew he needed a servant, but this seemed… so unfair. If his father had met the apprentice only a few days later, yes, Wooyoung would probably be stuck with someone just as incompetant, but at least it would be a proper servant- not someone who had come to their kingdom to learn a dignified practice. He couldn’t help but feel a strong pang of sympathy, something his father would ridicule him for if he knew. 

“I am calling for him tomorrow and giving him one day to prepare. You can expect him the day after,” Beomseok said. 

After a sigh of defeat, Wooyoung nodded. He could never argue with his father on something like this. He’ll have to live with it. Who knows, maybe the apprentice won’t be that bad. Hongjoong picked him, after all. Wooyoung will have to make the most of it. 

“Can I at least have his name?” he asked. He stared down at the half-eaten plate. A part of him was glad his meals would once again be hand delivered, but the guilt; it wouldn’t go away. 

The King paused for a moment. “I think he said his name was San.” Another sip of wine. “Ah, yes, I remember now. Choi San.” 

Choi San. 

“Is he good looking at least?” Wooyoung asked in an attempt to lift the mood. His father didn’t have the best sense of humor, or any at all, for that matter, but he could try. 

Beomseok seemed to catch on, though, and he hummed, slouching a little in his chair. “How would I know?” 

“No apparent qualities? That’s a shame. I hope you aren’t sticking me with a troll,” Wooyoung muttered. He took his own sip of wine and scrunched up his face at the taste. 

The King sighed, and to Wooyoung’s surprise, he gave in. 

“He has black hair.” 

“And?” Wooyoung leaned forward, eager to know more about this apprentice that had left such a good impression on his father. 

“What else do you want to know?” 

“I don’t know...  black hair doesn’t tell me much,” Wooyoung said. 

Beomseok thought hard for a moment, and his next words would haunt Wooyoung through the following day.

“Well, his cheeks dimple easily, I guess. Honestly, son, I don’t know what you want from me.” 

Oh.

“That’s enough idle chit chat.” Beomseok said. He dabbed at his mouth with a handkerchief. “You’ll meet him soon enough. Now that the matter is settled, you’re dismissed.” 

Wooyoung nodded and stumbled to his feet in a daze. There’s no way. 

There’s no way. 

He didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. This had to be a coincidence. There was no way Dimples was the physician’s apprentice and his... his soon to be manservant. 

But if it was Dimples…. 

Why did Wooyoung’s ears burn at the thought?

[duckprintspress]

Download the Free DPP Zine: November Edition

The latest edition of the Duck Prints Press zine is now available! It includes information about the Press, where to find us on social media, how to support us, and excerpts from the following titles coming soon…

Hockey Bois by A. L. Heard

Novel (approx. 120,000 words). Contemporary M/M Romance.

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What Monsters Need by Lyn Weaver

Short Story (approx. 9,000 words). Explicit Gothic M/M Fantasy.

The vampire Lazarus’s sister Leona is always dragging him into her mischief, not that Lazarus minds. This time, he might even thank her: she’s gotten the attention of a monster hunter from the Albrecht family. Lazarus has always wanted to meet one of those legendary humans…

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Waiting for the Tide to Turn by Genevieve Maxwell

Short story (approx. 3,000 words). Contemporary F/F Romance.

Liv’s had a crush on her best friend Caro for ages, but she knows that Caro doesn’t feel the same way. But the “friends getaway” that Caro has planned to the beach is going to test Liv to the limit…

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Aim For The Heart: Queer Fanworks Inspired by Alexandre Dumas’s The Three Musketeers

Anthology with a range of settings and ship types. The excerpt in the Zine is from Veronica Sloane’s story Waiting and Hoping, and is contempory m/m (Porthos x Aramis) romance.

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[rangercorpstherapy]

Okay help, what is the rangers gathering (tumblr version)?

this is the second year @theraven-gil-lyn hosts the gathering. every day of the month june there is a prompt you/people can make fanwork for.

[kingxxlink]

It's uncommon OC ask time!!

Let's do 40 for Eutheria, and F for Link!! >:3c ooo and for good measure....31 for Gage!

OOOO THESE ARE GOOD ONES I'M EXCITED

40: How sensitive are they to their own flaws?

Eutheria is incredibly sensitive to and about her flaws. She's headstrong and too proud, all while harboring a secret fear that she, too, will fall to the blight that has spread throughout Yharnam. She generally struggles to work with others, as well, and being aware of that helps push her forward to make a connection with the Vileblood Hunter, Alfred, in the hopes of seeking an end to the endless night.

===

31: Who are they the most glad to have met?

See, for Gage, you'd think the answer would be his partner Dean, but you would be wrong. He's the most glad he met Lyn Ashford (who belongs to @resonantcrimson). Meeting Lyn changed his life in ways he wasn't expecting and through Lyn's love for her brother, Christian, Gage learned that even Hunters can have real, actual families. Sometimes they're blood, sometimes they're not, but family is family.

===

F: What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)?

Interestingly enough, this doesn't change much based on which OC I think of! Overall, I feel a lot of joy and excitement when it comes to my OCs, but for some of the most well-developed ones, I feel a strong sense of pride in my writing and my ability to keep going,e ven when it's hard.

I don't often talk about it, but there was a period of 6-7 years where I just didn't create. I didn't draw, do pixel art, or write, and it was one of the saddest parts of my life because there really was just no joy left to me. Coming out of that and seeing the things I've created in the time since is absolutely a point of pride for me, because I think I've made some amazing work that stands on its own, often even if you don't know the source material (in the case of fanworks).

When it comes to what I create, I definitely feel I deserve every ounce of pride that it gives me. I went through a lot to get this far and I'm determined to see what comes next. <3

[yanderefairyangel]

rebloggin but only for this part

Houses discourse hasn't died down after Engage because there's nothing to talk about with Engage. Engage has such a nothing plot with black and white morality, simple characters, and basic motivations that the most heated that Engage discussion ever got was over something as ridiculous as whether or not it's incest if Alear bangs the fell Xenalogue twins. Engage is that bare-bones, so of course the fanbase just stuck with the game where there's actually something to discuss.

... I do wonder, for both of you, what does talking about a game means to you exactly ?

If it's not having fan content ? essays ? Engage has plenty of those. I am not gonna be like "actually Engage is a deep moraly complex story" because it's not. It's a return to the simple story that FE had always done. When it comes to the plotline + characters, Engage is traditional Fire emblem, keeping in touch with the GBA game like FE 6, FE 7 or Fe 8 for example. As well as the DS game. People still talk about those stories and character, do fanwork of those character and games etc. That is discussing the game, even if you don't have to bring in politics. If anything, only NOW are game like Awakening and Fates getting essays and characters analysis even though they are 10 years old and are considered to be "terrible story and having lame characters". The rest of the fanbase moved on from 3 Houses and came back occasionally to do fanwork like for every other game in this franchise.

As to why the Houses discourse didn't died down... it's really not an argument since we are still getting people fighting over Ike's sexuality or Lyn's ship wars, or the nature of Lachesis's relationship with Eldigan or "Is Chrobin canon ?" or the damnation that is "Which Avatar is the canon one ?"

If anything, the Houses discourse is yet another of those endless debates that has plagued Fire emblem forever.

Also side note but Alear does have a pillow. See the flowers on their altar/bed ? It's their pillow. (I am not even joking)

Invading Engage

Who's ready to see Fantasy Invader try to analyze Engage and compare it to Three Houses, now? :D

As I've mentioned before, repetition of his chief bonkers points is a pretty regular occurrence, so more often than not if I were to continue refuting his newer points I'd just be repeating myself, and that'd be tiresome and pointless. Thankfully, we do have a new one!

And it's... uhh... Sombron raised his kids like a meritocracy. Oh boy.

I feel like if you look at Engage, while not mentioning her the game is pretty good to Rhea. As I mentioned before, Byleth's trial theme song uses tracks that associate it with Silver Snow. Song of the Nabateans,

He's referring to Trial of the Academy.

So first, he's referring to the bit going to 0:40 to 1:00

Song of the Nabateans, which is remixed into A Funeral of Flowers, Rhea's boss theme from SS.

Engage wanting to remind us Rhea is the final boss on half of the routes. Checkmate, atheists.

pointing to Byleth's draconic heritage,

...No. It's referencing one of the major pieces of the Three Houses soundtrack. Song of the Nabateans is reused in a lot of pieces. You know, like how Bearer of Hope, which features in Trial of Dawn, first plays during Elincia's most profound moment in Radiant Dawn?

Edge of Dawn, a song that depicts Byleth and Edelgard's relationship as they end up as enemies and isn't used in it's full version in Flower,

Again, no. Jesus. Edge of Dawn depicts Edelgard's fears for the future and her certainty she'll end up Byleth's enemy.

and Paths that Shall Never Cross, referring to Byleth and Edelgard goin their separate ways.

Paths That Will Never Cross is used for battling any unrecruited character in part 2 - aside from the three house leaders, which includes Edelgard. This song lends more evidence to the notion that Seteth is fated to be Byleth's enemy then that Edelgard is.

This is all associated with a Byleth that's held in the same esteem as Revelations-Corrin and True Ending Roy, in addition to every other past FE lord.

You know what's different between Byleth and Corrin and Roy? Their games have true/golden endings. Byleth's does not.

While the House Leaders do get their bracelet, they don't get much else. No paralogue chapter like the other DLC emblems, nor do they show up in the xenologue. Nothing, just a cutscene where we get them for free.

There's quite a bit of reason to believe that Emblem Edelgard (with Dimitri and Claude) The Emblem of Rivals was a late addition to Engage. Houses and Engage were initially developed side-by-side, and though they had to use Byleth because main character, there was no way to be sure who would or wouldn't be popular from Three Houses. Then it turned out all three lords were well-liked - much to the chagrin of Edelgard haters - so Intsys developed a scheme to throw them all in.

Ironically, not having a map associated to them probably increased their general visibility. I'd bet money that a hell of a lot more people have played around with Emblem Edelgard (with Dimitri and Claude) The Emblem of Rivals than they have the Chrobin duo.

And they do appear in the Xenalogue. Fell Céline carries them in the final map.

Considering how the Cipher card that came with Houses in Japan mentions that it's your story, it's ultimately Engage saying that the game is Byleth's story above all else. Not Claude's, not Dimitri's and not Edelgard's, Byleth's.

... Yes? Byleth is ultimately the avatar of Three Houses, who decides the course of the story.

Fantasy Invader is trying to argue that this means Engage is hinting at Silver Snow being the canon route, except the issue is further down he'll use as evidence the fact that you fight Nemesis in Engage... even though Nemesis is not fought in Silver Snow.

It's funny how self-defeating FI's arguments tend to be. And also sad and aggravating.

Edelgard also says that the three lords protected their worlds, but anyone who has played Houses would see that her route goes in the other direction,

Fixing their world.

working with TWSITD,

Until she turns on them and kills them.

killing/exiling the other lords

Poor Cwaude and Dimitwi. We must not fight for Fodlan's betterment if it means inconveniencing two men :(

and killing Rhea.

Because she lit a city on fire rather than surrender.

What Edelgard did to protect the world is the exact opposite of those routes,

What routes? You didn't mention other routes.

so who really protected the world?

This is just Fantasy Invader being mad again that Edelgard's story is treated as equally valid as any other. Three Houses isn't a story of good vs evil (unless the Agarthans are involved, anyways), it's a story of clashing ideals. And that, honestly, could help to explain why the Agarthans are greatly sidelined in all routes.

Hopes uses Nemesis as the big bad for Fodlan, not Rhea.

And not Edelgard either!

We all know where this next pinheaded argument is going, but I really need to make a post about how self-defeating it is, because it really really is.

Nemesis, who Edelgard makes out to be this champion of humanity,

She never did that.

is the one held to the same level as Loptyr, Grima, Ashera, Duma...

Keep this bit in your head.

Nemesis was the bad guy, Rhea killed a bad guy

Yeah and in KOTOR you kill Malak whether you're Light Revan or Dark Revan, but that doesn't meant Dark Revan isn't a complete monster.

Also, I guess this means then that Duma is a bad guy, responsible for all the problems!

Jeddah finally beating the "caused all the problems" allegations!

and Edelgard killed her while praising the villain.

Again, Edelgard never praised Nemesis, and again, Edelgard killed Rhea because she forced her hand.

Claude's route is the one that tackled the supposed big bad therefore it's the one more in-line with past FE heroes, and by extension Dimitri and Byleth's routes.

Woah, I hope you remembered to stretch before that reach, Invader. Maybe he played a version of Three Houses that I didn't, because I recall a distinct lack of fighting Nemesis in the end of Azure Moon or Silver Snow.

There's a reason people feel that the final fight against Nemesis in Verdant Wind, while undeniably cool, came out of fucking nowhere.

Also, FE tradition involves killing a dragon at the end of the game. Medeus, Duma, Medeus again, Loptous (via his meat puppet, Julius), Iduun, the generic Fire Dragon, Ashnard (riding a dragon), Grima, Garon, Anankos (also via his meat puppet, Takumi in Conquest), Rhea, and Sombron. The only exceptions are Veld in FE5, Fomortis in FE8 (because FE8... is really weird and involved demons when other games didn't), Ashera in FE10, and Edelgard and Nemesis in Houses.

Even how we get Byleth's ring calls back to Silver Snow. Hortensia was an academy student, a princess borne of a concubine,

The comparison to Edelgard is deliberate, he's framing Hortensia as the anti-Edelgard. It doesn't work, as usual.

her father was manipulated by Sombron's forces into doing their work,

mind-controlled, rather, but yeah. Also it's worth noting that Hyacinth probably would have done Sombron's bidding anyways since he worshiped him.

her former classmates defect to the Divine Dragon's side and she does as well in the end

You've got that backwards, dunderhead. Hortensia defects first, then her classmates defect to be at her side - which barely constitutes a defection since they're just following their liege's example.

even if it means fighting against her former country. Compare this to Edelgard, who joins the academy, is a princess borne of a concubine, implications Ionius was a puppet for TWSITD to push Edelgard into stating the war to kill their ancient enemy,

That last part isn't accurate, but Fantasy Invader gonna Fantasy Invader.

her classmates defect in Silver Snow despite fighting against their homeland

Not if they fell during White Clouds, actually. Then they just stay at Edelgard's side, much like Rosado and Goldmary do Hortensia's.

and possibly their own families while Edelgard...continues attacking the rest of the continent using the monsters that were once men TWSITD provided her. Her own version of the Corrupted.

Jesus, if Demonic Beasts in Three Houses were as numerous as late-game Corrupted in Engage, maps would get really fuckin' long.

Anyways, that's another reach. Edelgard has soldiers that are genuinely loyal to her and believe in her vision.

Bonus point is that Hortensia prides herself on being a "cute" girl, while Edelgard's depth comes from her both being a violent conqueror...and a cute girl.

Again, no. Edelgard's contrast the devs spoke up lies between her endearing and her strong-willed sides. "Violent" and "girl" are not a contrast at all, just look at Estelle Bright!

If anything, Hortensia went down the path Edelgard refused to do, hence why she's a hero in the end.

Hortensia's a hero in Invader's eyes because she fought the dragon who established a fake religion with himself at the center of it through which he dominated a country, while Edelgard's a "villain" in Invader's eyes because she fought the dragon who established a fake religion with herself at the center of it through which she dominated a continent. Checks out.

Lumeria being a dragon living at the center of the continent, worshiped as divine? GOOD GUY.

Ah, what an amazing argument. "Lumera is a good divine dragon, therefor Rhea is also good!"

Doesn't matter that she did something to Alear that changed them, it saved Alear's life and not treated as a bad thing.

...Yes, because what Lumera did to Alear was for the express purpose of saving Alear's life, and was done with Alear's implicit permission.

What Rhea did to Byleth might've initially been for the express purpose of saving Byleth's life - we only have Rhea's word, the word of a liar as evidence - but what she continues to do by the year 1180 is to erase Byleth's personality and replace her with Sothis.

Lumera would have never ever done that to Alear. Because Rhea is a deconstruction of the series theme of divine dragons being good, and Lumera is not.

Lumera - at least to the best of our knowledge - didn't craft worship of the Divine Dragons the way Rhea concocted the Church of Seiros and the worship of her dead mother (whom she supposedly speaks to). Lumera doesn't live above humanity the way Rhea does, nor does Alear. She didn't create teachings or rules to control humanity the way Rhea did.

Being the Divine Dragon in Elyos appears to be a life of service to the people, going to them and protecting them. Being the Archbishop of the Church of Seiros means living in luxury and safety in Garreg Mach while the rest of Fodlan burns. Just look at how blithely unaware Flayn was about how bad the rest of Fodlan was before the time skip in Silver Snow.

Rhea is a deconstruction of everything a divine dragon is supposed to be in this series, but Edelgard's haters just never got the memo.

Naga was reclusive, living apart from humanity except in times of peril to protect them. Tiki is humble and just wants friends, even into adulthood. Duma and Mila set themselves up as gods because they were prideful, and were banished by Naga for their pride. Naga wanted the dragons to set aside from their pride and live as and among humans to avoid madness.

But Rhea doesn't live with humanity; she lives over them.

Compare Rhea's bedroom with Alear's:

Alear doesn't even get a pillow, guys! That's how you know they sacrificed for their friends: they gave their pillow away so Sommie could have two. Because Sommie gets everything.

Alear's hair changing color is also seen as a good thing, with it returning to it's natural red is the bad ending.

It's like Fantasy Invader's brain just stops at "their appearance changed" when discussing Byleth after chapter 11, and not what it means that it changed, or what it would mean if those changes were allowed to deepen, as Rhea wished they would.

It would mean Byleth's death as a person.

Meritocracy isn't so good when people are tossed away for not serving their master well enough, people without merit being labelled as defects.

Oh my fucking god. "Sombron treated his minions like it was a meritocracy!" Somehow, Fantasy Invader's concocted an even more headass take than, "Edelgard is a social darwinist!"

At least if Edelgard genuinely was a social darwinist, as her haters have tricked themselves into believing, she would reward her successful minions.

Sombron doesn't do this.

Take Hyacinth: he succeeded as Sombron wished, returning him to the world and restoring his powers, and with barely any help from Veyle or the Four Hounds, no less. Hyacinth's reward? Om nom.

There is no measure of loyalty or success good enough for Sombron. As Past Alear says themselves,

If I lose to you, [The Corrupted] will kill me. No… No, they will kill me, in time, no matter what.

Past Alear knows very well that the only reward Sombron offers his loyal minions is inevitable suffering and death. This is not a meritocracy, this is a horrific autocracy.

Doesn't really surprise me Houses discourse hasn't died down after Engage, Engage made Edelgard look like shit. Especially compared to Hortensia.

Houses discourse hasn't died down after Engage because there's nothing to talk about with Engage. Engage has such a nothing plot with black and white morality, simple characters, and basic motivations that the most heated that Engage discussion ever got was over something as ridiculous as whether or not it's incest if Alear bangs the fell Xenalogue twins. Engage is that bare-bones, so of course the fanbase just stuck with the game where there's actually something to discuss.

So uhh, yeah, Engage doesn't support FI's anti-Edelgard take as well as they think they do.

In fact, the Fell Xenalogue supports it. the FX portrays one rogue dragon, when completely bereft of anything to stop them, destroying an entire world. The FX portrays the countries as falling into ruin if their royals were worse people, because really who's gonna stop them, they're the monarchs of absolute monarchies.

[autumnslance]

We ALL change aspects of canon for various reasons to fit ourselves and our stories. We have our own perspectives and opinions; that's part of the beauty of transformative fanworks.

However.

We all also have to keep in mind those differences when things are rewritten. Check back in the original text if necessary and keep separate canon, headcanons, and popular fanons.

Especially when trying to speculate on characters, storyarcs, and upcoming plotlines. Are you using the text, or basing your ideas and opinions on headcanons and the memes du jour? Especially if it's been awhile since you played that expac, that patch (read that book, watched those episodes, etc)?

Think how fandom flanderizes a trait or two in your favorite characters for memes and lulz while ignoring the nuances that you notice and make you love that character. Same thing happens to plot lines and storybeats. People forget, weren't paying attention, ignored it as "uninteresting" or "I don't like X" and that doesn't work when trying to figure out later lore events, interconnected characters, or possibilities; none of it stands alone, it's all interwoven and builds off each other (or should, and we're lucky to have a game that does quite frankly, even with the hiccups and missteps).

Part of what makes good analysis, speculation, and fanworks is keeping an eye on ALL aspects of the canon: good and bad, favorites and squicks.

I may dislike character X, but I cannot ignore their interactions with other characters, impact on the story, what themes the devs are giving through this figure (I may even change my mind about them at some point, by keeping that open mind!). I likely won't write them into my fics very often if at all, but I also don't have to. My ficverse is different from the canon, even for someone like me who likes to write within the lines.

I do like to rewrite for my own ficverse a different resolution to the "Trolley Duty" cuz to me it makes no sense and smells of executive meddling. But I cannot discount that in canon, Ran'jit gets away and the WoL faces him in Eulmore. My headcanon is different from the actual story. I take that into account when analyzing Ran'jit, Thancred, that story arc, etc.

People often come to me with lore and analysis questions cuz I'm one of those folks who delves in multiple times and remembers stuff, and/or knows where to find the answers. I will (try to) go by the canon in response cuz...that's our baseline in common, and the jumping off point into whatever headcanon one wants to diverge into.

Though a lot of speculation or questions I see and get aren't considering the actual lore, seen maybe once months or years ago; it's based off of fanons, "what ifs", headcanons, memes, and other fan imaginings. Which on the one hand, great! That's what transformative fandom creativity is meant to do! Give you new ideas and perspectives!

BUT we engage with this media, ostensibly because we love the actual thing itself (tho I wonder about some of y'all who seem to punish yourselves by consuming media you apparently don't enjoy), so it behooves us to actually keep in mind the work the creators put in, checking the text and valid resources (in a MMO's case, the sites that track the lore and quest text, or use New Game+) and keep our headcanons and fanons in their own brainspace for playtime and how we alter canon entirely in our fanworks.

[gascon-en-exil]

About the post you reblogged about canon complaint fics. Fire Emblem is a fountain of ideas for compliant fics due to the narrative structure of the games in which supports and romances are often done in three or four "conversations" but we all know it's basically the script of the relationships and therefore more happened between such events, letting the player to fill the blanks. Therefore most fics that don't contradict canon are indeed canon compliant (as long the authors or developers don't release information that contradict it) so I need to disagree overall with the person who said that fics are often divergent by nature. If depends very much of the fandom. In my experience Fire Emblem fanbase is a 50/50, considering that half of the fics on ao3, for example, are one shot smut that can't be necessarily considered canon compliant as there's no heavy plot lol but most heavily plot oriented long fics follow the canon specifically.

That must have been in tags and I don't recall who said it, but I'd imagine that that person was thinking of fanfic in general which does indeed proceed from a postmodern, decentralized conception of the relationship between author, text, and audience. Death of the author is a foundational principle of transformative fandom, in other words, regardless of how canon-compliant any given piece of fanwork claims to be. This is especially true when canon is vague or inconsistent, leading to disagreement among fans over what it actually says which as an example is how we got to the entrenched factions of the Three Houses fandom. That aside however, it's impossible not to bring something of one's own preferences and biases to fanfic - or meta, for that matter - even when aiming to be canon-compliant. For instance, I emphasize queer subtext in much of my own meta, but people who aren't interested in that kind of content or who have a motive of their own in making alternative readings, ex. a rival ship, or opposition to a character based in part on their perceived alignment with conservative attributes *cough*Dimitri*cough*, will disregard or deny that subtext as they deem fit. This easily applies to fanfic as well, in the characters and ships and genres of fic a person is drawn to reading and writing about.

Regarding Fire Emblem specifically, it's always had a lot of space in its text to spin stories in different directions. At least some plotless smut fics could be described as canon-compliant from a transformative perspective if not from a meta-writing one; for example, there's nothing in canon to suggest that furtive teenage sex wasn't a part of Dimitri and Dedue's four years of intense trauma bonding prior to the start of the game, which is suitable fodder for technically canon-compliant fic even if I wouldn't be able to use it to make any kind of definitive claims regarding their (canon) sexualities because it's still a form of divergence from the heteronormative assumption that every character is straight unless they have a romantic S rank with same-sex Byleth. On the flip side, personalized retellings of FE main stories have been popular as a fic genre at least since the mid-2000s, when FFN.net was inundated by personal spins on Lyn's story in FE7 that usually included pairing her with that game's proto-Avatar tactician. This kind of story has only become even more popular with the introduction of actual designated self-insert Avatars, and as these are effectively the authors' OCs when they appear in fic their characterization can be quite revealing of the writer's interests and priorities - which is where the divergence comes in.

The Three Houses author who many of us over here have been criticizing has been from what I've seen quite open about what from his personal life he's been bringing to his work. The trouble is that he appears to lack the self-awareness to distinguish between his own biases and what's actually in the script of Three Houses, on top of a lack of understanding that meta and fanfic differ significantly from one another - in their assumed approaches to canon, in their expected levels of objectivity, and in how audiences engage with them. The result is an Edeleth novelization of CF that claims to also be meta (and is taken as such by a group of Redditors, a demographic that typically engages less with transformative fanwork) and presumably canon-compliant as his fandom faction sees it even though it's as much a reflection of the author's subjective experience as all those Lyn/Tactician fics or indeed pretty much any FE Avatar-centric fanwork. That his fic diverges so heavily from canon - and in ways that are often offensive especially when paired with the author's performatively progressive slant - while being held up as objective and compliant to (an observably flawed) canon is what bothers people, I think.

[ao3feed-hitoshi-shinsou]

The Heroes Against Bullying Club

The Heroes Against Bullying Club by wonder lyn

Izuku Midoriya, Hitoshi Shinsou, and Neito Monoma are a lot more similar then they initially think. It just took them forming a club to realize this.

Aka how Izuku, Hitoshi, and Neito change the world. Sort of.

Words: 3789, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: Uraraka Ochako, Midoriya Izuku, Asui Tsuyu, Iida Tenya, Shinsou Hitoshi, Monoma Neito, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Minor Original Characters - Character

Relationships: Midoriya Izuku & Monoma Neito & Shinsou Hitoshi

Additional Tags: International Fanworks Day 2021, Bullying, Mineta Minoru is Expelled from U.A. High School, Mineta Is Only Here So I Can Kick Him Out, Friendship, Fundraisers, How Do I Tag, no beta we die like men

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29445036

[jackie-talks-about-starkid]

A Very Potter Senior Year (Rewatch #6, 10/15/2020)

YouTube publish date: March 15, 2013 

Number of views on date of rewatch: 1,515,813

Original Performance Run: August 11, 2012 at Chicago’s LeakyCon

Ticket price: the cost of a LeakyCon 2013 pass

Director: Matt Lang and Nick Lang

Music and Lyrics: Clark Baxtresser, AJ Holmes, Pierce Siebers, and Darren Criss

Book: Brain Holden, Matt Lang, and Nick Lang

Cast album price and availability: $14.99 on the StarKid store for digital download (x)

     Release date: December 15, 2012

Parody or original: third installment of a parody series

Main cast and characters

Harry - Darren Criss

Ron - Joey Richter

Hermione - Meredith Stepien

Draco - Lauren Lopez

Gilderoy Lockhart - AJ Holmes

Voldemort - Joe Walker

Ginny - Jamie Lyn Beatty

Musical numbers

  Act I

“This Is The End” Characters: Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, and Ensemble

“Senior Year” Characters: Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny

“Wizard of the Year” Characters: Lockhart and Ensemble

“Always Dance” Characters: Tom Riddle, Dumbledore, and the Slytherins

“When You Have to Go All the Way Home” Characters: Lucius and Bellatrix

“Get in My Mouth” Characters: Aragog and Ensemble

“Tonight This School is Mine” Characters: Harry and Draco

“I Was” Characters: Harry and Tom Riddle

  Act II

“Sidekick” Characters: Ron

“Everything Ends” Characters: James, Lily, Sirius, Lupin, Snape, and Cedric

“Goin’ Back to Hogwarts” Characters: Harry, Ron, McGonagall, and Company

“Harry Freakin’ Potter” Characters: Harry and Company

“Days of Summer” Characters: Company

“Goin’ Back to Hogwarts (Finale)” Characters: Harry

Notable Notes:

In this production, Luna was played by Evanna Lynch, the actress who portrayed Luna Lovegood in the Harry Potter films!

For this production, StarKid created a song and artwork contest in which the song winners would have a song performed in the actual production. One of the entries for the song portion of the contest was won by Robert Manion, who was later featured in Twisted and most recently played The Professor in The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musical (x)

Darren’s body mic did not work during the filming of the production, so all of his vocals and dialogue had to be pulled from other mics on stage (x)

Cultural Context: 2012/early 2013

Instagram become the popular new app for photo sharing

In February 2013, Beyoncé performed at the Super Bowl

‘The Harlem Shake’ was a popular video challenge

‘The Fierce Five’, Aly, Gabby, Kyla, Jordyn, and McKayla, all win gold for the US at the 2012 Summer Olympics

KONY 2012 happened

Marissa Mayer becomes the first pregnant Fortune 500 CEO

Content Analysis:

A Very Potter Senior Year is StarKid’s most interesting meta-musical regarding fandom. StarKid’s first published musical A Very Potter Musical, originally called ‘Harry Potter: The Musical’, was a work of musical comedy parody lovingly created by fans of the Harry Potter franchise for other fans that in a short amount of time created its own fandom for StarKid that continues to grow to this day. A Very Potter Senior Year is a fan-made production made by a theatre company for the sake of fulfilling their own fannish desires while also fulfilling the fannish desires of the fandom that they created for themselves from their original fanworks. That is a sentence that can only apply to StarKid. How often does a fanmade work gain such popularity, let alone one that uses theatre as its medium? And how often does an entire theatrical company, rather than an individual theatrical production, gain a loyal fandom through their own works? Through a combination of accessibility and dedication to fan culture and theatre, StarKid has created and fulfilled a very specific niche that has brought so much joy to so many people. AVPSY is StarKid’s thank you/love letter to the fans that have allowed their success to happen. It is a work that is comprised entirely of book-specific and movie-specific Harry Potter references (because, as any HP fan knows, they are different beings) and StarKid-specific references that any audience member who has not participated within the StarKid fandom would not understand, which makes this work incredibly special for the audience that it was intended for. The cast is composed of just about every StarKid actor associated with the company, whether or not they were involved in the first two Harry Potter musical parodies, making the show just as much of an homage to the team itself than it is to their Potter musical series alone, and they even managed to get an actual actor from the Harry Potter movies to reprise her role in this actual production?! If that doesn’t speak to the cultural weight of fandom and its power to bring people together, then I don’t know what does. 

This production has all of the elements expected of a traditional StarKid show, with on-point performances, funny and entertaining dialogue, a handmade production quality that increases the humanity of the company, and a heartfelt message lying underneath the outlandishness and occasional vulgarity. Watching actors step back into the roles that gained them so much popularity and that obviously have so much sentimental value to them makes their impact so much stronger-Draco’s mere presence remains a laugh riot, Ron’s lines are funnier (and his long-awaited solo was so incredible!), Ginny’s increased role in the plot is more substantial, and Harry’s character development is more multidimensional, but in a way that solidifies rather than takes away from the intended warm and comedic tone of the show. Meredith Stepien stood out for obvious reasons, as she was the only actor in the company who played a character that another person originated, but as a fan and an audience member who rewatched this production with a more critical eye than usual, I felt like her performance was outstanding and one of the best in the show. Her performance as Hermione felt like one that honored the character’s relationship to the fans while also making the transition between Grueson’s performance to Stepien’s own practically seamless, once a joke about the change in performer was made early on in the show. Personally, I could not be more happy to add Meredith to the list of talented actors who have played one of my favorite fictional characters of all time. StarKid’s Hermione is a very difficult character to play because she fulfills many different roles in the StarKid Potter musical universe itself and to the fans-not only does she have to honor Rowling’s intentions with Hermione’s original character, lest fans take offence to the parody, but she has to establish herself as her own character who is often the butt of a joke, a core character for the plot’s resolution, and the main leading woman of a musical comedy, which comes with its own set of narrative and performative responsibilities. Stepien did an incredible job and I’m really glad that she got to shine more as a leading character once StarKid produced Firebringer. Her stage presence and comedic performance are, in a word, lovely. @ StarKid please give her more roles, thank you

As far as the rest of the company goes, Chris Allen is the unsung hero of A Very Potter Senior Year, playing Barty Crouch Jr., Moaning Myrtle, Mad-Eye Moody, and Tom Riddle Sr. It is generally expected of any StarKid performer that in any given production they are going to play more than one character, and one of StarKid’s defining traits is the comedic flexibility of the performers, but Allen in particular stole every scene that he was in, no matter how brief it was. And AJ Holmes! He played Gilderoy Lockhart perfectly! The only thing that I do not appreciate about his performance is that he doesn’t act enough in StarKid shows. I know he was busy writing music for their shows and he’s busy now being successful in the greater commercialized theatre world but I find it personally offensive that he doesn’t act in StarKid more. Gilderoy’s Mouse Monologue™ is one of the funniest scenes in the show and needs to be performed more for national monologue competitions and comedic auditions because the writing alone does not get enough credit, but no one can ever live up to how Holmes took over the stage with that scene.

Overall, A Very Potter Senior Year was a beautiful wrap-up for the musical fandom-within-a-fandom-made-by-fans. Even through a screen and watching the performance seven years later, I can feel the love and joy radiating from the actors and the unseen audience through my laptop screen and have never been more grateful that StarKid still to this day ensures that their work can be viewed by as many people as possible.

[the-apocryphal-one]

With all the craze surrounding Three Houses, i still can remember a time when Fire Emblem was obscure, and most people only knew them from Smash. I like many others, learned of the series from Melee, but unlike most, i had a Japanese friend, who explained who they were. I remember popping the Fire Emblem Gameboy and expecting Roy and Marth but getting Lyn. I remember those fanworks that portray the FE characters as speaking only Japanese. Time flies huh?

lol my first knowledge of FE came from Smash too. I distinctly recall my brother telling me Marth was a girl and Roy was ‘her’ apprentice XD

[kidlightnings]

I swear, Lyn has been in tons of pairings when it comes to fanmade works, whether if it's canon or non-canon ones. Man, talk about a launcher of a thousand ships. Assuming that you ship her with Karel, which it's only "evidence" is when you recruit him with her. Have you ever gotten into any discussions or arguments with anyone who doesn't support Lyn/Karel and prefers her with someone else, before? The Hector and Rath fans are in a serious ship war over her for some reason. Better be careful.

Arguments no, because in general, for me, shipping is for fun and for exploration of ideas - what other people do is generally not of huge concern to me. If someone seems to be getting really riled over it, I’d usually just go in a direction of you do what you want, I’ll do what I want. I’m a little glad I’ve never really been a big name in the FE fandom or fandom in general, so most folks don’t really come at me.

Plenty of discussions, though. In the past I was more aggressive about pushing it as a pairing, but now, if someone wants to talk about Rath/Lyn or Lyn/Hector etc., I’m happy to see their headcanons and just talk about that. I’ve seen some Lyn/Rath fanworks I’ve really liked, so while he doesn’t hold my interest, it’s not a bad ship! Hector/Lyn is intriguing to me due to the idea of such a culture clash in terms of her being in the Ostian court and her learning to work with that in various ways. So, I like it for that idea. I don’t know that I like it for what’s then implied to happen to Lilina’s family, though T_T But, then, without any ships at all involved, it can be implied that Lyn may not make it to 6 anyway. So, is what it is!

[lynnt1ny]

You're Magic To Me: Ch. 9

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Woosan (Multichaptered; Prince!Wooyoung and Servant!San)

Full WC: 91.3k Ch. 9 WC: 6.9k

Fic Blurb:

Wooyoung didn’t know what he did to deserve such a horrible manservant. With the weight of the kingdom over his head and the constant demands of his father, he couldn’t afford to deal with this every day. But why did San have to be so bloody endearing? After a series of coincidences, San found himself stuck at the Prince’s side, day in and day out. Of course he’d accidentally fall in love along the way. San didn’t know what to expect when he moved into the castle, but it certainly wasn’t this.   --- Aka, my Merlin-obsessed ass decided to write a Merlin-inspired fic.

A Servant of Two Masters

He had too much to drink. That explained it- the stumble in his step, the blurry edges of his vision. 

San didn’t know where he was. He thought he was walking towards the physician’s chambers, but all he could make out was a long drawl of monotonous stone walls. 

It was late. He had passed a window on the way, and it was dark. The stars hadn’t come out tonight, but the moon hung there, bright and only adding to San’s already growing headache. 

Bracing a hand against a wall, he slowed to a stop, shoulder hitting the rough, uneven stone. He blinked, willing away the fog, but the world was still cloaked under a fuzzy veil. 

There was something wrong. He only had a little bit of wine. 

Where was Sena? She had left him outside Wooyoung’s room, telling him to get some sleep. Her words pulled at something in him, and yes, if she wanted him to sleep, he would gladly pass out on the spot at her words. 

She looked so sad, though. San wanted to make her smile. He wanted to kiss her again. Would that make her happy? 

He bit down the sudden urge to go find her. She wouldn’t want him to do that- she told him to get some sleep. 

His head hurt. 

San took a faltering step, fingers tightening against the stone. His knees were weak, and he gave in, stumbling back and letting his back hit the wall. Before he knew it, San was on the floor, sitting against it. 

He had kissed Sena. It was wonderful. He wanted to do it again. Maybe that would ease his headache. 

Her lips were as soft as they looked, and when he closed his eyes, her long locks were cut short, her jaw heavier, brown eyes instead of blue. It was addicting. God, he wanted to do it again. 

His head dipped, lolling slightly to the side. He must look drunk out of his mind, which didn’t make any sense. And his head was full of Sena. All Sena, when before, he could swear it was only Wooyoung. 

Wooyoung… a deep pang set in his heart. What was wrong with him? A giddy laugh built in his chest, delirious and out of his mind. 

His feelings… they were gone, snapped out of existence. He was free- he didn’t have to hurt from the shadows anymore as Wooyoung inevitably fell for someone else, because now it wouldn’t hurt. 

Choi San did not love Wooyoung anymore. His head knocked back hard against the wall, and he winced. 

“San?” 

He blinked, a wavering figure standing over him, concerned eyes peering down at him. San shifted, shivering slightly. He didn’t know if it was an apparition or not, an effect of the hammer pounding at his skull. “H-Hongjoong?” he smiled. “Hi~.” 

The man crouched in front of him, a hand on San’s knee. “What did you do to yourself? Why aren’t you with Wooyoung?” 

“Young-ah?” San laughed. “He’s okay. M going to bed- supposed to sleep.” 

Hongjoong winced. “Now’s not the best time to drink yourself silly, San. Woo.. he’s going to need you to be yourself.” He bit his lip, looking off to the side. 

San shook his head. “Can you.. can you take me to sleep?” 

“Wooyoung’s?” 

“No.. my own bed please.” 

Hongjoong’s were gleaming, something in them San couldn’t place. “Did you two have a fight?” 

“No, I just.. Sena told me to sleep,” San’s head hurt. “I need sleep.” He reached his arms out, ready for Hongjoong to help him up. 

“I’m taking you to Wooyoung.” 

“No.” 

“Why?” Deep creases set between Hongjoong’s brows. 

“‘M embarrassed,” San groaned. “Kissed Sena. He’s probably mad at me.” 

“You… you did what?” 

“Sena..” 

Hongjoong’s eyes were wide, boring into him. His fingers tightened against San’s knee. “And.. and Wooyoung knows?” His voice was a whisper. 

“I mean, yeah.. He was right there.” 

Hongjoong stared at him, horror twisted on his face. “What the hell, San.” 

“She’s pretty,” San slurred. “One moment, I’m fine, and the next…” he laughed. “I think I’m in love with her.” 

“No, you aren’t. Jesus christ, San, how much did you drink?” Hongjoong leaned in, nose scrunched up, trying to catch a whiff of alcohol on San’s clothes. 

San smiled. “Just take me to my room, Hongjoong. Please?” 

The conflict was visible on Hongjoong’s face, and San was too out of it to understand why. Why was he upset over this? To San, it was all so simple.

Hongjoong finally hooked his arms under San’s armpits and hauled him to his feet. San winced, the sudden movement making his head spin and the rough handling making him almost fall over again. When he looked up again, Hongjoong looked pissed. 

“Seonghwa is doing your job tomorrow,” he said. “You’re right. Wooyoung won’t want to see you.” 

Hongjoong’s words hurt a little, but something in San’s head blocked it, muffling the feeling down to a soft ache. A small pleasant buzz overtook his pounding headache, and he hummed in confusion. 

“Okay, then..” San said. He gulped back a confused laugh. It didn’t look like Hongjoong would appreciate it. 

Hongjoong’s lips were pressed together, but he wrapped an arm around San’s back and let him lean against him. “God,” he huffed. “San, you really have the worst timing.” The words were lighthearted, but there was an edge of anger laced in them. “I can’t believe you.. that you did this.” 

San didn’t reply, too focused on how Hongjoong had started walking, moving them both down the corridor at a snail’s pace. He stumbled over his own feet the whole way, wondering how the hell he let himself get this drunk. 

Wasn’t the headache supposed to come after? He suddenly felt like asking Hongjoong to do a checkup on him, to make sure everything was okay. He wasn’t this much of a lightweight. 

But the voice in his head stopped him, whispers of ‘Sleep.. go to sleep, San.’ whirling through his mind in a loop, clogging up all the space he needed to make rational decisions. 

He hummed, closing his eyes and letting Hongjoong half-carry him back to the room. He’d get to see Sena more if he took his job off tomorrow. Yes, Hongjoong’s idea to let Seonghwa take over was great. 

They both burst through doors of the physician’s chambers. 

“I think you can find your way from here,” Hongjoong said, patting San’s head. It was reserved- usually he would ruffle it until San protested against it. But now, Hongjoong only had a small smile, a gleam of anger in his eyes. “Get some rest. And then we need to talk.” 

(。-`ω´-)

Seonghwa didn’t wake him up. He didn’t need to; Wooyoung was already wide awake, half-sitting up against his pillows.

The truth was, the tears had already formed in his eyes, and when he saw Seonghwa standing there instead of his usual dimple filled servant, they finally fell. 

He didn’t cry last night. To be honest, he was proud of that, even if it was because of the shock, or the numbness that crept into his bones. But no, they were stockpiling until now. 

So he started crying, and Seonghwa stood by the side of the bed, an awkward hand rubbing circles over Wooyoung’s arm. 

Seonghwa didn’t ask what happened yet, and for that Wooyoung was grateful. There was no way he could answer now- not with him choking on air, his chest heaving to contain the wracking sobs that left his lips. 

The image from last night replayed over in his head. The universe was sick. Over the course of his life, this had to be the cruelest joke it played on him. 

Now that he had time to process it, it was like experiencing the kiss again tenfold- an outsider at his own dinner table. 

Seonghwa sat next to Wooyoung, telling him to breathe, and he tried. It was all too much, and he curled into himself. Eyes closed, he could pretend it was San’s hand on his arm instead of Seonghwa’s. 

He knew it wasn’t. 

Eventually, he was numb again, sobs subsiding. He thought he knew what it felt like to be heartbroken, but no, this was it- the emptiness. He was drowning again, but he gave up on struggling, letting the water clog his lungs, feeling it burn in his chest. San’s face grinned over him from above the surface. 

It was all too much. 

He kicked away the sheets, startling Seonghwa as he sat fully up, wiping at his face and gasping. There was a glass of water in Seonghwa’s other hand, and Wooyoung grabbed it thankfully, washing down his sobs as he gulped it down. 

He was a mess. 

Seonghwa patted his back, and Wooyoung anchored himself to that touch. He briefly wondered how Seonghwa knew exactly what to do to help. As much as he hated it, he needed this crying session. Seonghwa was staying strong for the both of them.

“D-Do you.. do you know why…” Wooyoung finally addressed Seonghwa, trying to force the question out. 

Seonghwa already knew what he was going to say. “Hongjoong told me San was drunk out of his mind last night,” Seonghwa said. “Besides that, I don’t know what happened. Hongjoong told me to ask you myself.” 

It was easier to breathe now, after the water, and Wooyoung leaned forward, hunched into himself. Seonghwa sat on the edge of the bed behind him, a hand still on his back. “You can talk to me,” he said. “Since apparently San isn’t an option, and Yeosang is… Yeosang.” 

Wooyoung tried to laugh. He really did, but it wasn’t happening. He gulped, sucking in long, deep breaths. “I…” He didn’t want to say it. He didn’t want to make it real. 

But it was, and he needed to get past it. 

“San kissed Sena,” he whispered, and Seonghwa’s jaw dropped open behind him. 

“He did what?” 

Wooyoung shook his head. He would not repeat it. He waited for Seonghwa to ask why it was such a big deal- why Wooyoung had just spent the last five minutes a sobbing wreck, but the question never came. 

“That doesn’t make sense,” Seonghwa said. His hand stilled on Wooyoung’s shoulder. “Was it.. like.. just a peck?” 

Wooyoung turned his head and glared at him. “What do you think?” He pointed at his face, incredulous. His cheeks were tear-stained, eyes rubbed red and hair disheveled from Wooyoung pulling at it all night. “Does it look like it was just a peck? 

Seonghwa looked away. “Sorry,” he said, a slight tremor in his voice. “But... it doesn’t make sense. This doesn’t sound like him.” 

The truth was, Wooyoung knew it didn’t sound like San. 

He didn’t even know why this hit him so hard. Yes, he’d burn the world to be in Sena’s place, but he didn’t know why it hurt so fucking bad. People kissed all the time. He could go right up to Yeosang’s room and peck him now, and it wouldn’t mean a thing. 

No. It all boiled down to the way San looked at her, the soft sparkle in his eye, usually reserved for Wooyoung. It was the blankness in his gaze when Wooyoung called his name. It was the feeling of letting a lover slip through his fingers, even if they never crossed that line. 

Apparently, Sena beat him to it. 

“They have been spending a lot of time together,” Wooyoung mumbled. He didn’t want to have this conversation, but it was necessary. “It’s just… we had a falling out a few days ago. He… He told me nothing would happen between them, and now..” 

Seonghwa didn’t say anything, and Wooyoung didn’t expect him to. There wasn’t much he could say to help Wooyoung feel better. He needed.. He needed San’s explanation, but he didn’t know if he could see San without sitting at that dinner table again in his head. 

Wooyoung felt the weight shift on the bed as Seonghwa stood up. He walked to the side of the room, pulling out a brush, and then he was back behind Wooyoung, twisted to the side. 

Seonghwa was careful, gently teasing out the knots that had formed in Wooyoung’s hair. It was so normal. 

The world keeps going, even when yours seems to fall apart at your feet. 

“You should talk to Sena,” Seonghwa said. “This whole thing sounds weird. She has magic, right? She could have… done something.” 

Wooyoung hadn’t thought of that possibility. Could that be it? Did Sena.. trick him? Cast a spell? 

But that look in San’s eyes… 

“I’ll talk to her eventually,” Wooyoung said. “Once I’ve had time to.. process more.” 

Seonghwa hummed, seemingly satisfied. “You should also consider adding to my pay, considering all the times I’ve had to fill for San’s stupidity.”  

The corners of Wooyoung’s mouth twitched up. “Maybe.” 

“Good.” Seonghwa stilled behind him. “Now, let’s get you ready for the day.” 

.

Wooyoung caught a glimpse of San on the way to the council rooms. 

He was leaning against the wall, a small smile on his lips. Pink hair bunched behind his ears. It was definitely growing longer, but the roots kept its bright color, as if it was naturally growing out of his head. 

But that’s not what Wooyoung focused on. No, San’s eyes were closed, and his fingers were circled around his wrist, twisting over a leather band. 

Wooyoung was going to regret this. 

“San!” he called out. His voice was weak. 

San’s eyes snapped open, and Wooyoung gulped under his gaze. 

“Sire?” 

Oh… they were back to titles, then? 

His body acted on habit, even as his mind yelled in protest, and Wooyoung drew closer, standing in front of his servant. 

“What… what are you doing?” he asked. 

Now, he could probably take him in. San’s cheeks were tinted pink, a soft, warm color above his eyes. He was wearing makeup again. Of course he was. His eyes themselves were dark, irises almost completely hidden by dilated pupils. Wooyoung would be worried if not for the wide smile on his face, lips pink like his hair. 

Whatever this was: it wasn’t good for Wooyoung’s heart. 

“I thinking,” San said. 

Normally, Wooyoung would return with a jab- something like ‘Thinking? San, you’re going to hurt yourself.’ Instead, he found his hands at his sleeves, fiddling with the fabric. It was an unconscious tick he didn’t even realize he had until now. 

“Okay.. what are you thinking about?” he asked, thinking back to the soft smile he caught on San’s lips before he spoke. It was weird, but he wanted to taste it. Sena kissed San after a meal and some wine. Wooyoung wanted to do it now- when it was just San and his smiles, dimples on display to brush his fingers over. 

“It’s nothing important. I’m just..” San sighed, brows tilted up. “I’m going to see Sena soon for a magic lesson. It might be the last before she leaves.” 

Wooyoung perked up. “Oh? She’s leaving?” He mentally fist-bumped the air. “When?” 

“In a few days. She said she finished what she came to do, whatever that means,” San said. “I’m so excited! Essetir is going to be so beautiful.” 

Wooyoung’s mental celebration stopped with a screech. 

What? 

Wooyoung took a small step back. “What.. what do you mean?” 

San blinked at him, pretty lashes fluttering above the top of his cheekbones. “She invited me to come with her. Isn’t that exciting!” 

“N-no..” 

San laughed. “You don’t have to worry. She said she’d take care of Beomseok. He won’t execute me for leaving my post,” he said. “And you can get an actual, competent servant for once. It’s a win-win situation, and your rooms won’t be a mess anymore.”  

Wooyoung never cared about the rooms.

“You..” Wooyoung stumbled away. He needed to leave. Now. He needed.. He couldn’t look at San anymore. 

He’s wearing makeup for Sena. They’re having another magic lesson, he… 

San wants to leave Sinsu. 

If last night was bad, this was a thousand times worse. 

He failed. Wooyoung wasn’t good enough… wasn’t good enough to make San want to stay with him. Somewhere along the way, he screwed up. He must have. 

His father always told him to stop getting attached to people. Maybe he was right. 

Wooyoung couldn’t take this anymore. He turned tail and all but ran to his rooms, choking on air. 

(。-`ω´-)

Sena wanted to meet him by the field today. 

San saw her that morning. She came by to find him early, to tell him her plans of leaving. She finished her studies in Sinsu, and it was time to return. 

Great. He’ll take a horse too. 

He woke up completely consumed by her: the silk of her hair, the curve of her smile, the mesmerizing effect of her words. He had fallen so deep. It was almost laughable, the way it was all he seemed to care about now. 

San knew Wooyoung wanted him to stay, but Sena said... 

She said not to tell anyone they were leaving. God, he was so dumb. Wooyoung was right: San was terrible at following orders. 

With a shake of his head, he started heading to the field: he had wasted enough time. 

The trek was eerily nostalgic, and something about this being the last time he’ll take this walk made him frown. He didn’t feel like he’d miss it; it was just a strange voice in the back of his head telling him it wouldn’t be bad if this wasn’t the last time. 

Wow, his head was really screwed up. He kept thinking in circles, and that certainly wouldn’t accomplish anything. He frowned. 

Sena was already there. She wore a pretty black dress, matching her hair and her jewelry. It was the first time San had seen her in completely dark colors, and his cheeks bloomed red. She really, really was stunning. 

“Hi,” he brought a hand to his mouth, trying to stifle a smile that threatened to peek through. “You look nice.” 

“As do you.” She grimaced and turned away, as if looking at San pained her. That wouldn’t do. Did he do something wrong? Oh god, it must be because he told Wooyoung they were leaving. She knew. That was so stupid. So goddamn stupid, but he was so excited, and it slipped out! He was used to telling Wooyoung things he was excited about. 

The headache from last night was slowly returning, and his frown deepened. How could he make this up to her? Why the fuck did she look so sad? 

“Sena?” He gently put a hand on her shoulder and turned her back around. “Is there something I can do? You look upset.” He pouted at her distraught eyes- clear, blue pools that made San melt. He tipped her chin and kissed her cheek, warmth filling him to combat the chilly air. 

She broke away, hugging herself and biting her lip. Sena looked across the field, and under the sun, she was shining. Even in all black, she was the lightest thing there, softer than the petals that surrounded them. San wanted to cuddle her to death. 

“I need to burn this field,” she said, and San’s brain short-circuited. 

Burn the field? 

He cocked his head, waiting for an explanation. 

“I didn’t want to do it alone. It seemed.. close to you two,” she sighed, brows furrowed. “I’m so sorry it has to go.” 

San didn’t know why she was sorry, but if she wanted it gone, then her wish was his command. He smiled and lifted a finger, a flame curling around it. He remembered the first time he saw this particular trick, when she showed to him at their first lesson. 

It looked like it would be useful now. 

“Do you want me to do it?” he asked, and her frown deepened. 

But in the end, she turned away and nodded. “Go ahead.” 

He let the flame circle down to his hand, building in his palm. He marveled at how natural this came to him. He had gotten used to it, yes, but at the same time, his own abilities still shocked a small part of him. 

It was almost scary how good he was at magic. 

His heart panged, though. It burned, and he frowned. The magic wrenched at him, chest tightening. It was confusing. This never happened before. His magic never made him.. Feel anything before. He gasped, the weight slowly crushing him, a vice around his heart and squeezing. He couldn’t breathe. 

“What are you waiting for?” Sena turned back with narrowed eyes, and the flame disappeared. 

“I-I’m sorry.” San clutched at his shoulder, his arm across his chest. “I don’t know what happened.” The pain subsided, and he marveled at how fast it left him. 

She shook her head. 

San swallowed, bringing the flame back to his hand. Damn, it hurt, but he ignored it, crouching down and bringing it down to the petals by his feet. Surprisingly, they lit easily, and it began to spread across the vines in a flash. San pulled Sena back and further up the hill, clear from the rapidly spreading flames. 

The ache in his chest died away, but there was something else nagging in the back of his head, something wrong about this. 

Sena had a smile on her face- a sad one, but a smile nonetheless. He tried to copy it, but it wouldn’t come. 

The flickering flames cast an orange glow on her face. For the hundredth time, he was reminded of how pretty she was, how beautiful people could be. 

Soon enough, the entire field was awash in red and black, charred remains and ashes littering the ground. Fires bloomed in place of blue, and San wondered if that was part of the magic, if the flames were lasting longer because of it. Sena walked away, black dress trailing behind her like the smoke she left in her wake. Even with his newfound infatuation, San didn’t follow. The field was more mesmerizing, more captivating at the moment. 

He stood at the top of the hill, staring down.

God, Wooyoung was going to be so heartbroken. He loved this field, and San had just ruined it. San was suddenly glad he was leaving soon. He caused enough trouble for Wooyoung and the castle inhabitants. 

It was hard to focus on Wooyoung. San felt hollow when he thought of him, and that alone.. It was so wrong. He knew in his head that Wooyoung was important to him. San nearly gave his life for that bastard, after all. 

What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he feel anything? 

He stared down at the flames, thoughts swirling in his head and an emptiness that only seemed to grow. 

(。-`ω´-)

Wooyoung found Sena in one of the towers. 

He tried to stay in his chambers, but he couldn’t take it. There, everywhere he looked, all he could see was San: by the table, in the mirror, in his fucking bed.

He needed to get away, and the only vacant place he could break down in without an audience was high up in the towers. 

Apparently, he was wrong. 

He had climbed the stairs by two, eager to get away from the halls of the main castle. He didn’t see her at first. She wore dark colors, blending into the dim corners of the small room. 

They were at the highest point of the tower, where the stairs gave way to a small circular area. It used to be a guard’s post, but the windows were too small, and the room too isolated to properly raise alarm. It became a storage space instead, housing boxes with cobwebs sticking to their sides. The faint stench of rotten fruit invaded the space. No one ever came up here. Some day, he’d order a servant to clean it out, but for now, he was happy to keep it his little secret. 

So much for that. 

He would have to keep himself together for a little longer. 

Wooyoung narrowed his eyes, taking in her dark attire and the jewelry, gleaming in the low light filtering through the windows. 

“What are you doing up here?” he asked, and she smiled. 

“I could ask you the same.” 

A faint black streak sat on her cheek, and the bottom hem of her dress was singed. He let her take so many liberties while she was there, but as it was now, Wooyoung finally had enough. “Why are you really here?” His voice was hoarse. “Drop the lies for once. I know you haven’t been talking with our scholars. Why are you still here?” 

She glanced away, hands clutching at the sides of her dress. “Nothing that will.. directly hurt you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Nothing that’ll hurt me? That’s bullshit!” He closed his eyes, face scrunching up. “What did.. what did you do to San?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Then why did he say he’s leaving? He wouldn’t… San wouldn’t.” Jesus christ, the tears were pricking at his eyes again. He needed to calm down, to stay composed. 

Sena raised a brow. “He told you?” 

Wooyoung shook his head, chest caving in from the pressure that had been building ever since those words left San’s lips. “Why are you taking him from me?” 

“Wooyoung,” she sighed. “You’ve made it so fucking easy for me to carry out my orders.” 

“Some orders are made to be broken.” 

“It’s already too late.” She kicked the side of a box, and dust kicked up around it. “Magic demands a balance between life and death. You may not get it now, but by taking San… I’m finishing this kingdom for good.”

Wooyoung’s fists clenched. He would not let this happen. By the end of the day, he was putting her in the dungeons, just like his father told him to do if she acted suspicious. He could figure out what was going on with San then. Everything was going to be okay. Tomorrow, it’ll be back to normal. San will be his bubbly self again in Wooyoung’s chambers. He’ll look at him with that sparkle again, the stars back in his eyes. Wooyoung will fall asleep in San’s arms again, a steady heartbeat against his ear. 

San will love him again. 

Because that’s what it was, right? Even if it was only as a friend, San had to have feelings for him. Even platonic ones would do. He just wanted everything to go back to the way it was. 

“Unless you would rather me kill you, this is the only way. I’m sorry,” Sena was still talking over Wooyoung’s thoughts. 

He shook his head. “Sena, this doesn’t need to end like this. We can come up with a solution.” He reached for his belt, movements slow, but his hand landed directly on his side, fingers scrambling at nothing. 

The guards were too far away to call. He needed to get Sena into the dungeons somehow. 

Did she know how to magic her way out? To manipulate locks? 

She eyed the way Wooyoung held his hand over his belt and chuckled. “I don’t think a sword will be very effective against me, especially one made of air.” 

She started walking to the door, and Wooyoung rushed to get ahead of her, to block it. He took a stance there, hands raised to form fists. Sena was an idiot if she thought Wooyoung would let her walk out after that conversation. 

“I’m serious. There’s always a peaceful solution. Wasn’t that the whole point of your visit?” 

“Don’t make me laugh.” She flicked her wrist, and Wooyoung hurtled to the side, crashing against the boxes on the floor. He hit his hip hard, and his hands burned as he tried to catch himself on the wooden crates, splinters inevitable. 

He caught his breath, and wrenched to the side, hand outstretched, but she was already through the door. It clicked shut behind her, and through it, he heard her mutter a few words, along with a slight exclamation of surprise. 

It shouldn’t have a lock, but fearing the worst, he lurched up and grabbed the circular handle, only to immediately yelp in pain. It was like touching a hot stone, his skin blistering where it made contact with the iron. The frustration and pain wrote itself on his face, and his eyes narrowed. Sena’s wasn’t in a hurry, her footsteps slapping against stairs, growing fainter by the second. 

He rushed over to a window, placing his palm against the cool cross-hatched glass with a hiss. He knew the tower was too high to climb, but if only he could warn someone below. Dammit, he should have locked her up the moment King Sungho left the citadel. His hospitality was going to be the downfall of Sinsu if her words were to be taken seriously. 

‘By taking San… I’m finishing this kingdom for good.’

What had she done? God, he was so stupid. His father said the Essetirians were here for war, and yet.. He gave them the benefit of the doubt. 

Steeling himself, he was about to turn and kick down the door when he saw it: A darkened patch of black against Sinsu’s brilliant landscape, smoke still lingering in the air. He peered closer through the window, nose touching the glass, and his breath caught in his throat, stomach plummeting. 

What the fuck was happening to him? 

(。-`ω´-)

San did something he shouldn’t have. 

His body was torn in two, one side completely devoted to Sena, lost in her words and her presence, but the other side hurt. And it was that deep, struggling, desperate part of him that made San do it. 

Because now, he knew what Sena did to him. He saw it in the book the other day, and after returning to the castle, after spending time in the physician’s chambers, laying on his bed and staring up at the ceiling, he figured it out. And he knew why Sena made him burn the field down too.  

From there, that internal struggle was back. He hated her. God, he hated her. 

But he loved her too, and he knew at her words, he would be powerless. 

Even now, the guilt ate at him. If Sena found out what he had done, she would be livid. He felt like a dog on a leash, desperate to make his owner happy, and the weight of shame crushed him down into the stiff mattress- so different from where he had slept the past few nights. 

Hongjoong was out again. He was being so secretive, and today, especially, his mood had been sour. When he saw San that morning, Hongjoong had asked him to apologize to Wooyoung. He told San to sort themselves out now because apparently Wooyoung would need it by tomorrow. Hongjoong’s eyes were so commanding, so violent. 

But that was before Sena came by and told him they were leaving, and that side of him that thought he loved her came roaring out in agreement. 

Now he knew better, but that didn’t stop the way his emotions twisted at the thought of her. He couldn’t describe it: the war that raged inside of him now-the softness that arose when he heard her voice, when he saw her, versus the knowledge that she used magic on him. 

But how could it be fake when it felt so real?

A few hours after the field, after he planted something in Wooyoung’s rooms,, Sena came to see him again. She had walked in, eyes scanning the room in slight disdain, and she said there was a change in plans. 

They were leaving now.  

That was okay. He could leave. Everyone would be better off without him, Wooyoung especially. 

Even if it was fake, at least he wasn’t hurting like when he loved Wooyoung. He would gladly take this over unrequited love any day. 

He asked her where they were going, if they were making the trip straight to Essetir. His stomach dropped, hurtling straight through the floor at her answer. 

And then, she said he had to get the horses ready by nightfall. 

That gave him time to say goodbye. 

(。-`ω´-)

The door opened, but Wooyoung didn’t flinch. He knew someone would walk in eventually, no matter how isolated the room may be. He sat behind one of the wooden crates, back to the wall and hidden from sight. Hopefully, this person would leave and never find the prince hiding in the room. 

He didn’t even know the handle stopped burning hot. Looking back, he probably should have tested it earlier, but he couldn’t bring himself to stand up. He brought his knees closer to his chest, making himself smaller. 

“Wooyoung?” 

Scratch that, now he’d be happy to get up and run away. 

“I couldn’t find you in your rooms, nor the kitchens or the council rooms. The knights haven’t seen you either. Yeosang too,” San’s voice paused. “I know you come up here when you’re upset. You can.. You can come out and talk to me.” 

With a deep sigh, Wooyoung squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t talk to San like everything was normal yet. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t get their earlier conversation out of his head. He couldn’t get past the fact that San wanted to leave. 

But San came to find him, didn’t he? He wasn’t out with Sena or packing his things. Maybe he finally came to his senses. A small hope wedged its way into his mind, and he poked his head over the box, staring up at San in the doorway. 

His hair was mussed, and there were more streaks of soot on him than there were on Sena- on his hands, his arm, his chin… His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, cream shirt tucked in and unlaced at the top. Wooyoung’s bracelet was still around his wrist. He was a mess. A dorky, adorable mess. 

But the soot.. San was at the field, most likely with Sena as well. They both set the fire.

What did that even accomplish for her? Was Sena’s goal only to bring Wooyoung pain? It definitely seemed like it. 

San wasn’t smiling. His feet shifted against the floor, and he wrung his fingers out in front of him. He was tense, acting out the nervous ticks that were so unabashedly San. He wasn’t looking at Wooyoung either, eyes tracing the floor and following the lines of the stone. Wooyoung’s small hope vanished just as fast as it came. 

Normally, he fine with showing weakness to San. In fact, San was the only person Wooyoung was comfortable enough to do it. 

Now? He frowned as he stood, legs aching after being in one position for so long. He knew his face was tear stained, eyes red rimmed. But he felt slightly better now they were at eye-level. 

This is what you did to me. 

He swallowed, chest slowly tightening for the thousandth time in the past twenty-four hours. San still wouldn’t catch his eye. 

The door shut behind him. 

“Sena did something to you,” Wooyoung said. “She all but admitted it to me.. You have to believe me.” His voice was scratchy, hoarse from the crying. It was unfamiliar- a foreign sound in the empty space of the room. 

“I believe you.” 

That hope picked up again, raising his spirits just a little bit. 

“Y-You do?” Wooyoung stumbled closer until he was right in front of him, forcing San to look at him. “Are you still…” 

Yes. Yes, he was. Wooyoung could see it in his eyes- the diluted pupils, the emptiness. It hurt to see, but Wooyoung couldn’t look away. 

“Sire-” 

“It’s always been Wooyoung,” he stressed. “Don’t call me that.” He took San’s hands and clasped them in his own. “Come on, I need you to snap out of it.” 

San frowned. “Actually.. I came to say goodbye.” 

Goodbye? 

“This… this is a joke, right?” 

San shook his head. “No, I’m readying the horses after this.” 

He.. he couldn’t breathe. San was serious. Wooyoung may never see him again. And San.. he knew Sena was messing with him, but he still wanted to go with her. Where the hell did Wooyoung go wrong? Did.. did San hate him? Was that why… ? 

He thought back to every interaction they had up to this point. The jokes, the banter, the near flirting. The soft moments came back, whispers of encouragement and endearment ghosting against his ears. Warm touches, both firm and gentle, were only memories now. 

He thought back to the beginning. Harsh words filled his ears, jokes verging on the line of insults, a thin wrist bloomed with dark bruises shocking him back to his senses. He remembered that day the most, how he watched as San tried his best to hide them from him. 

Back then, San thought he was arrogant. A twat. An ass. Wooyoung thought by now, they were past that- That San thought he was better. Wooyoung couldn’t.. He couldn’t.. 

Wooyoung’s face crumpled, and the tears came running down his face again, except now it was worse, because San was right in front of him, and Wooyoung loved him. And.. and San wasn’t.. He didn’t.. 

Wooyoung couldn’t think anymore. He sobbed, knowing he was letting San walk out of his life just like that. What could he do? San would hate him even more if he kept him there against his will. Wooyoung would hate himself for that.

Was there a way to make San stay? To show just how much Wooyoung needed him? 

All his life, he wanted to be a good ruler, to be a good son. He was Sinsu’s only son. If he screwed up, people would doubt the line of succession. That meant no crying. That meant no attachments. He had to remember rank. He needed to be the prince his people deserved: stoic and elegant, strong and wise. He had to be perfect. He had lasted this long, but he couldn’t do it anymore. 

“Please.” 

San froze, his eyes growing wide, and finally Wooyoung thought he saw something there. 

“You always wanted me to say it, to b-beg,” Wooyoung pulled San closer, letting go of his hands and instead balling them in San’s shirt. “Well, g-guess what?” He choked out words between cries. “You broke me.” 

Usually, San’s arms would be around him by now, words cooed against his ear. He didn’t know if he was begging San to hug him or to stay. Probably both. 

Wooyoung hid his face in the crook of San’s neck, forcing San to tilt his head to the side. It was familiar, warm. But at the same time, it felt so cold.  

“Please, you can’t leave me,” he pleaded. Pathetic. 

San tapped his shoulder, slightly awkward in the gesture. It was so different from anything Wooyoung was used to, and it hurt. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say,” San said. “We’re leaving by nightfall.” 

No. 

Wooyoung pulled away to look at his face. 

No matter how upset he was, just looking at San usually made him want to smile, but now… 

Dammit, Wooyoung had imagined spending his life with San. He had dreams about it sometimes, of them growing old together. 

His jaw locked up, and he closed his eyes, shutting it all out. 

And finally, he felt fingers against his face, the back of San’s fingers brushing away the stray pieces of hair that stuck to his cheeks, wet from tears.  

“I left something for you in the wardrobe,” San muttered. Wooyoung heard him audibly swallow. “And.. and don’t follow me this time, Young-ah.” 

Fuck you. 

He felt San pull away. Wooyoung didn’t have it in himself to look. 

The door opened and closed with a click, and Wooyoung was alone again. 

.

San was gone. Really, truly gone. Wooyoung remembered the looks he got on the way back to his chambers, but he couldn’t get himself to care. There were more important things than reputation. He was human too. 

He wished it didn’t take San’s absence for him to fully realize that. 

As he lay in bed that night, Hongjoong walked into Wooyoung’s rooms. His face was hard as stone, and his body stiff. Wooyoung had never seen him like this before, and he already knew something had happened. 

“I need to tell you this before it gets out,” Hongjoong said. He sat on the edge of Wooyoung’s bed. “I’m sorry I kept it from you, but… your father asked me to.” Hongjoong’s shoulders were hunched, and there were heavy bags under his eyes that matched Wooyoung’s own. His hands were stained from working with poultices, and he had this frazzled energy about him- strong, but defeated. 

“I can assure you, my day can’t get any worse,” Wooyoung mumbled. He turned on his side, facing Hongjoong. “Get it over with.” 

Hongjoong sucked in a breath, and his hands were trembling. Wooyoung was tempted to hold them still. 

“I…” Hongjoong bit his lip and turned away. His eyes shone in the dark. “I tried my best. And only me and a few guards knew, but..” He let out a groan of frustration. “But, I swear, he wouldn’t let me find outside help. Someone could have, but I.. I couldn’t.. ” 

“Spit it out.” 

Hongjoong gave Wooyoung a sad smile and put a light hand on his shoulder, but his expression slowly slipped into a grimace, his teeth clenched. The next words Wooyoung heard would change his life forever. 

“Wooyoung.. the King is dead.”

[julystorms]

all the number from teh valentine ship meme that u haven't answered already :)

Dang, anon, that’s a tall order!!

1. Your favourite non-canon ship?

I’m in a gelyn mood so let’s say Gelgar/Lynne (SnK). ;)

2. Is there a ship you didn’t like at first but ultimately started shipping?

No. The closest I got is “not really shipping” something and going to “shipping it.” This usually happens because a ship is introduced into the canon and/or I didn’t know how I felt about it at first. In the case of Kent/Lyn I didn’t know you could even get supports between characters who weren’t the “lords+ninian” in FE7, so I thought my canonical choices were between Hector/Lyn and Eliwood/Lyn. (I was team Hector, fwiw.) Anyway I gave a Kent/Lyn ‘fic a shot way back in like, 2007 for reasons I still can’t comprehend (it’s not like me to read something that Isn’t My Ship) and ended up OTPing it. As far as eruri goes, I was pretty meh about it until the canon added more in there and it opened up my shipping brain to another potential. :3

I’ve never straight disliked a ship and ended up shipping it, though. Not that I can think of.

3. What is the rarest rare pair (that you ship)?

IDK I mean, is “rare pair” an obscure ship or an inactive one? Like, I have older fandoms (Record of Lodoss War, The Irresponsible Captain Tylor) and obscure fandoms (Kaze Hikaru), yet I have ships for them. There isn’t a lot of fan-created content for those ships, but…there isn’t a lot of fan-created content for the show in general, either. If we’re talking like, ship to fandom ratio I wrote one of two Frank/Abigail ‘fics on AO3…but the fandom itself only has 24 ‘fics on AO3. That’s like, 8% of the ‘fic being for that pairing?

Hitch/Marlowe is a small ship. There aren’t a lot of people producing content for it on a regular basis. But it’s a ship in the SnK fandom. And SnK is a pretty big, very active fandom. 

If I say 30 of these actually focus on Hitch/Marlowe and are about them, then we’re looking at .08% of the SnK fanfic being for hilow–a much smaller percentage than the 8% that is Frank/Abigail.

But 30 ‘fics is a lot more than 2 when you’re feelin’ mighty thirsty. So which rare pair is actually rarer: the one that has fewer fanworks compared to the amount of fanworks for that fandom, or the one that has a fandom with a small amount of fanworks?

And do crackships count? They would automatically win by default, I would think. What about main couple canon ships in fandoms where there just isn’t any content? Can they count?

Like, the FE7 fandom might think Kent/Lyn is a rare pair but is that because it actually is, or because I took down the over-100 ‘fics I’d written for that pairing, thus rendering it a rarepair?

All of this just to say I don’t really have an answer for this question. ;P

*A LOT MORE BENEATH THE CUT*

4. Name a popular ship you don’t get the appeal of.

J///eanM//arco. Like I get the appeal! It’s just really meh to me.

9. What ship represents the kind of relationship you’d love to have?

How about instead of me saying what kind of relationship I’d love to have, I say what relationship I do have. My husband and I…are a lot like these ships:

Bill/AJ (When Calls the Heart)Hector/Farina (FE7)Gelgar/Lynne (SnK)Lawrence/Holo (Spice & Wolf)

(I’m crying at the examples of how we fit them.)

10. Is there a ship that makes your skin crawl?

Listen pal…I’m not here to start The Discourse. But yes. There is. And I’m only typing it because the fandom has like 5 people in it and I doubt any of them will even see this.

It’s He//nry and Abi///gail from WCTH. It gives me this gut-wrenchingly bad feeling my dudes. I can only pray it stays strictly platonic.

11. What is a character you can only imagine in one particular ship?

99% of my ships. But listen, André Grandier (Rose of Versailles) only had eyes for Oscar all his life. So that’s the answer I’ll put here.

12. What is your favourite canon ship?

I, a peasant in neo-medieval 2018, allowed to partake in shipping a canon ship? Are you sure this is legal? I won’t be hauled off to the gallows? 

Ah, no matter!

The aristocracy at my entire ass. Mikenana is canon.  

13. Name a ship that deserved more content.

HILOW HILOW HILOW HILOW HILOW HILOW.

14. Is there a ship you feel gets undeserved hate in fandom?

Every ship gets some undeserved hate.

18. Is there a ship the writers have ruined for you?

Not really. I’m pretty good at writing around the bullshit.

19. Is there a ship the fandom has ruined for you?

I bet if I looked up MLP Tales ‘fics for Teddy/Sweetheart (a wholeship pairing) I’d be ruined for the entire fandom forever. I ain’t touchin’ it, though.

20. Have you ever created fan created content for a ship?

Literally thousands of things.

22. Is there a ship you’ll never admit you have?

I’m not afraid to say what I like.

23. Have you ever started shipping a ship because of the fans?

I started shipping KentLyn because of @arthoure. And I got into Rose of Versailles and SnK because of @kippielovesyou. So even if just tangentially, the answer is yes.

24. What is one scene you want to see happen for all your ships?

Look my guy, I just want them to feel safe and content.

25. I there a ship you wish you didn’t know existed?

Of course there is. But I ain’t sayin’ it here. I ain’t about that shit-stirring stuff today.

27. Name a ship that deserved better in the end.

FRANK/ABIGAIL and it’s going well right now but I saw those episode summaries for S5 and I know they’re gonna get broken up by some crazy dramatic shit and wow it sure is sad that WCtH ended with S4!!!!

[nephenees-lance]

While I acknowledge the canonicity of Eliwood/Ninian, I can't help but complain about the lack of Eliwood/Lyn fanworks. They were the first pair I did in FE7 and what got me into shipping as a pastime.

[lynnt1ny]

You're Magic To Me: Ch. 11

Chapter Directory | Prev. Chapter | This is the last chapter!

Woosan (Multichaptered; Prince!Wooyoung and Servant!San)

Full WC: 91.3k Ch. 11 WC: 4.1k

Fic Blurb:

Wooyoung didn’t know what he did to deserve such a horrible manservant. With the weight of the kingdom over his head and the constant demands of his father, he couldn’t afford to deal with this every day. But why did San have to be so bloody endearing? After a series of coincidences, San found himself stuck at the Prince’s side, day in and day out. Of course he’d accidentally fall in love along the way. San didn’t know what to expect when he moved into the castle, but it certainly wasn’t this.   --- Aka, my Merlin-obsessed ass decided to write a Merlin-inspired fic.

Diamond of the Day

Wooyoung never thought ahead this far. 

Well, technically, he did, but not in a way that mattered. He always knew he would be king. He knew he would have a coronation, and he knew he’d replace his father one day. 

But for some odd reason, he never thought of what would happen after. 

What does one person do when they’re at the top of the world? 

As he suspected, they were able to force Sena’s encampment past their borders relatively easily. There were only a few injuries, and neither side suffered any casualties. After, Mingi led the majority of their troops back to Sinsu, and only a small party of knights remained, along with Wooyoung and San. 

He had stepped into the village in all his glory,—chainmail, glistening armor plates, a sword by his side, and an army at his back—and everything went uphill from there. Wooyoung valued himself on his pride, but he also thought he was pretty humble, especially after meeting San and all the time they had spent together. But he would forever remember the moment the villagers realized who he was and the hope in their eyes at that moment. 

Now he stood with San at his side, shoulder to shoulder, as they checked over the village for the last time before they left for Sinsu. The villagers made space for them in the streets as they walked, but it was busy. After being cooped up for so long, and in addition to the warming weather, everyone seemed to be out and enjoying the fresh air. 

“Woo..” San linked their hands together, thumb brushing over Wooyoung’s glove. “We can come visit again, right? When everything calms down?” 

Wooyoung smiled, looking over at him. “Of course. It can be our little vacation spot, yeah?” 

“Hmmm,” San’s eyes were little crescents, and Wooyoung unlinked their hands to reach up and ruffle his hair.

They paused by the edge of the village, content. Wooyoung grinned as the area slowly burst back to life around them, diamonds in the villagers’ eyes as they passed Wooyoung. 

“You know, they wouldn’t be treating you like god’s gift to mankind if they knew what an ass you are,” San said.

“Oh, but they do know. That’s the best part about it.” 

It was true. The rumors had traveled quickly. It started with the children recognizing his face,—the mole under his eye they used to poke during the week that felt so long ago—and it spread even faster the more he hung around San in the streets. Before long, the people realized he had been there before, disguised under San’s worn clothing and a painfully obvious alias.

“They don’t fear me, San. Not like my father.” Wooyoung looked down at the ground, trying to keep his grin from growing more deranged. “They’ve seen me without the ‘prince’ front, but they still...” 

They still bowed when he went by. He didn’t lose their respect, nor their trust. They still saw him as their King. 

San sighed. “In their eyes, you saved them. Did you honestly think they would care about that now? If anything, they’re most likely out scolding their kids for pelting you with snow while you visited.” 

Wooyoung laughed and looked over at San. His eyes were glowing as he watched his hometown slowly pick itself back up. With a small step, Wooyoung wrapped an arm around San’s waist, indulging in the small smile that touched his lips. “Does that mean no more snowball fights for me?” 

San scoffed, leaning closer into Wooyoung’s side. “I doubt anyone would dare lay a finger on you unless you ordered it.” 

Wooyoung hummed. “Then it’s a good thing I’m the king now.” 

“Hmm, you better catch yourself before your ego gets too big.” San turned in his hold and tugged at Wooyoung’s hair. 

“I have you for that, don’t worry.” 

San grinned and poked his cheek, ignoring the gruff look on Wooyoung’s face. “Let’s go inside and make sure everything’s packed, yeah?” 

“Okay.” 

.

Wooyoung would never forget the look in San’s eyes when they rode upon Sinsu. 

Wooyoung half expected to find the castle burnt to the ground when they returned. Normally he’d have more faith in his friend, but Yeosang was… Yeosang. Wooyoung never knew what to expect from him. 

But he worried for nothing- Yeosang had done a fine job in keeping things running while he was away, and Hongjoong pitched in a lot too. The castle and laws were intact, and Mingi led the main battalion back safely. The potential war against Essetir hung over his head, but other than that, Wooyoung’s reign had gone smoothly so far. 

The people celebrated their return when the party broke through the outer village gates. Loud cheers rose as they rode the streets, and San’s smile was blinding. Seeing San back in familiar surroundings made Wooyoung smile too. 

The courtyard was quiet, the clamor of voices fading as they approached. Yeosang, Seonghwa, and Hongjoong were waiting on the steps for them, and the party of knights behind them dispersed, some heading to the stables and others handing their reins to servants standing to the sides. Here, it was a calm, welcome return. 

San dismounted first and jogged quickly up to the steps, pulling Hongjoong into a small hug. Wooyoung grinned and jumped down to his feet too. For the first time in weeks, Wooyoung truly felt grounded in Sinsu. While he still didn’t really know what he was doing, he knew what he wanted now. He knew where his life was heading. 

Seonghwa walked down and took their horses, a small smirk on his face. “Did you two finally get your shit together?” 

Wooyoung pouted. “No greeting for your King? Not even a hello? Wow…” 

Seonghwa shrugged. “Well? Did you?” 

He didn’t have a good answer for that. “I mean… kind of? I think?” 

“That doesn’t sound very reassuring. I bet Yeosang ten gold pieces you’d get together by now.” 

“You bet on us?” Wooyoung glared at him. “And Yeosang doesn’t have faith in me?” 

“He said you’re too dumb to fix things without his help.” 

Wooyoung scoffed. “Well, tell him I don’t need it. We’re perfectly fine, and hopefully-”

“Choi San!” 

On the steps, San squeaked and ducked in front of Yeosang, hands clutching at Yeosang’s shoulders. Nala stood at the entrance of the castle, her face rigid. 

“Excuse me, Seonghwa. It’s good to talk to you again, but I have to see this.” 

Seonghwa shrugged and let him go, leading the horses toward the stables. Wooyoung sped up his steps to meet Nala. Yeosang turned back with a grimace, not doing much to help shield San from his mother’s barely constrained fury. It was comical from a distance, but as Wooyoung grew closer, he saw the relief behind Nala’s scowl. 

Wooyoung placed a firm hand on San’s back and grinned. “I got him back! All good and new, crappy jokes and all.” 

Nala shook her head. “I can see that. However, Sannie still has some explaining to do.” 

Yeosang pulled away from San’s grabby hands, and Wooyoung’s grin turned evil as he pushed San forward. He laughed at the look of betrayal that crossed San’s face. 

“Ah, hi, mum.” San’s face was always so expressive, and this wasn’t an exception, as a small smile split his face. “Wooyoung told me you were okay, but I’m still glad you’re safe.” 

Nala rolled her eyes. “No thanks to someone.” She opened her arms and engulfed San in a tight hug. “You’re doing my laundry and eating your meals with me until I leave, by the way. You were a menace to deal with under that spell.” She let out a huff of air, and her eyes shone with unshed tears. Over San’s shoulder, she gestured over at Wooyoung. “Come here. Don’t be a stranger.” 

Wooyoung hesitantly took a few steps over before Nala grabbed a hold of his sleeve and pulled him into the hug. He laughed, falling into it and wrapping his arms around the two of them. 

He may have lost his family, but in the end, he found another one, no matter how small. 

(。-`ω´-)

San loved Wooyoung. 

There was nothing else to say. Maybe he loved him from the very beginning, maybe not. But even as a kid, San knew Wooyoung was special. Somehow, even through stories, San knew he would grow to love him. 

Wooyoung was magnificent- both seconds after waking up and hours later, sitting on the throne with the crown San placed on his head every morning. San loved that crown, and he hoped one day Wooyoung could learn to love it too. 

The next events flew by quickly, and while San was happy, he felt like he could never quite catch his breath. 

The situation with Essetir didn’t defuse the way San hoped it would. It seemed history would repeat itself, the tension between the kingdoms constantly there but never completely snapping. Something like this happened decades ago, but San didn’t know the details, and Wooyoung seemed content to pretend Essetir didn’t exist. 

San’s mum went back to Balor. Wooyoung had begged her to stay. It surprised San, but Wooyoung wanted Nala to have a place on his court. His royal court. Nala refused, but she said she’d send a few of her friends instead- trustworthy people who she knew would do a lot of good in a bigger world. 

It was a start, and not everyone agreed with what Wooyoung was doing. But there was no way to make everyone happy, and Wooyoung was just doing what he thought was right. He was changing a lot of things, working more for his people and dismantling many of his father’s old customs. 

The Wooyoung from a year ago wouldn’t be doing this. But now.. San couldn’t be more proud to call Wooyoung his king. 

San’s chores also only took half the time it used to, with the addition of magic. 

San loved that too. 

They didn’t have an archive of magic books to learn from- only the one San had hidden in the wardrobe and one other they recovered from her belongings in Balor. But that was more than enough. If anything, it made magic more fun, having to figure things out on his own. 

Magic began popping up more in the kingdom too. As more people came forward with it, it was time to begin devising laws that could keep it in check. It was confusing at first, as they didn’t know the extent of what magic could do, but once Wooyoung started looking at magic like a tool, it was significantly easier to come up with a set of laws to keep it in check. 

Hongjoong started helping San experiment and document new spells. One day, San hoped Sinsu could have its own archive of magic with books that weren’t falling apart at the seams. 

But the biggest change, at least in his life, was his relationship with Wooyoung. It was scary, new territory, and sometimes he didn’t think he deserved it, especially with everything that happened. 

San couldn’t help but blame himself for the death of Wooyoung’s father. 

Once he figured out the circumstances of Beomseok’s death and put two and two together, he realized just how much he had put Wooyoung through, and it all went downhill from there.

It was his fault, though. But he couldn’t tell Wooyoung. They just figured themselves out and telling Wooyoung would… it would destroy everything they built together. 

But the guilt was killing him. 

Spring began to settle in, and the air was warmer, the sun brighter. It smelled like blossoms and fresh grass. It was a new beginning. 

Wooyoung liked spring. He said it was the most comforting season, that it was proof you could get through the darkest moments of your life and come out to find something beautiful. San thought he was exaggerating it a bit (winter wasn’t that bad, come on), but in the end, San had to agree. 

Spring in Sinsu was beautiful. 

“Hello? Earth to San.” 

San snapped back to attention, frowning as Wooyoung waved a hand in front of his face. It was a rare off-day for both of them. Wooyoung purposefully didn’t leave any chores for San to do, and Seonghwa, as Wooyoung’s new head advisor, was reading over the papers Wooyoung was supposed to be going through that day. 

San was leaning against the wall, looking out Wooyoung’s open window, a bored king poking his side. 

He smiled. “Just admiring the view.” 

“Which one?” Wooyoung smirked and flicked San’s forehead. Out of all the habits Wooyoung could pick up from him, of course it had to be the annoying ones. 

Not that Wooyoung could ever annoy him. It was more endearing than anything, if San were being honest. 

“Do you have anything special planned?” San asked. “Seeing as you cleared up both our schedules.”

“Kind of.” Wooyoung grinned. “You know, before all that chaos went down, I really wanted to go on a picnic with you.” 

“A picnic?” 

“Yeah, but seeing as my favorite picnic spot is gone, I figured we could try something after we settled in a bit.” 

Well, fuck. There’s another piece of Wooyoung’s life San destroyed. He hadn’t even thought of the field since they came back, and a new guilt settled in his gut. 

Wooyoung pinched his arm. “Get that look off your face. It’ll be fun! And you can test your magic too.” 

San shook himself out of it and smiled sheepishly. “Yeah? What exactly do you want me to do?” 

And that was how he found himself back by the blackened landscape. It hurt to look at, knowing he was the one to set it aflame. Wooyoung stood next to him, cupping a small pile of dried petals in his hands. San had a feeling he knew exactly what Wooyoung wanted, but he didn’t know if he could do it. 

Wooyoung sat by the foot of the hill and pat the space next to him. San took it, ignoring the dirt and leftover soot on the ground. 

The air felt heavier here, and with every blink, San could see flames behind his lids, leaping across the field. 

“I know it’s a lot.” Wooyoung closed his eyes with a hum. “But do you think we can save it?” 

And San knew Wooyoung saw a much different vision when he closed his eyes, that in his head, he pictured an ocean of petals he could drown in, nothing like the inferno in San’s mind. 

“We can try.” It was the least he could do. 

San covered Wooyoung’s hands with his own, and Wooyoung let him take the dead flowers into his own palms. 

Wooyoung leaned over and kissed his cheek, and San turned a bright pink. “It’s okay if it doesn’t work. We can always find something else to do for this land,” Wooyoung said. He shifted closer and leaned his head against San’s shoulder, looking out into the landscape. 

After a moment of silence, San let the dried petals fall to the ground. They blended in with the dull scenery, immediately mixing with the dirt. San didn’t have a spell for this. After scouring through the few books he had, he knew bringing anything back to life was near impossible. 

So he went back to his basic instincts, back to the beginning. With Wooyoung’s heavy weight on his shoulder, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was easy to tap into the magic, but it was hard to envision that field again. Still, he tried to pull that image up. He tried to bring life back into their surroundings.

He blinked his eyes open, and nothing happened. There was no hint of color left. Nothing. 

“Try again,” Wooyoung said. 

Normally, Wooyoung’s voice was comforting, something San would never get enough of, but there was a desperate edge in his tone that San could pick up from only two words. He clenched his fists, eyes falling closed again, and he fought, pleaded for his magic to cooperate with him. His heart rate picked up, and his vision went gold for a split second. 

Something must have happened. He felt Wooyoung lift his head, and he smiled, ready to see waves of blue. 

He opened his eyes again, and his heart dropped when the same dull brown met him. 

Wooyoung nudged his shoulder with a small laugh, and San finally glanced down. 

By their feet, two flowers gleamed by their feet, a small vine growing from the dirt. Vertigo hit him hard, and he felt lightheaded. 

San grit his teeth, staring down at the flowers; with all his magic, he could only conjure two scraps on a vast, blackened field. But Wooyoung laced their fingers together, and he was smiling. 

“I’m sorry,” San mumbled. “I.. I can’t-” 

“There’s still room for them to grow.” Wooyoung had a small smile. “Thank you. This is more than enough.” 

San took a deep breath and looked away. Wooyoung shouldn’t be thanking him for anything. San could count the number of times Wooyoung said ‘thanks’ on his fingers. 

Wooyoung didn’t have to be so.. so nice. For the first time, San wished a hint of the old Wooyoung would come back, the one who threw halfhearted insults and insisted San call him ‘sire’ or ‘my lord.’ 

He would never thank San, not when he didn’t deserve it in the first place. 

“San?” 

He looked over, meeting Wooyoung’s soft gaze with a barely concealed grimace. 

“Tell me what’s on your mind?” Wooyoung tilted his head ever to slightly to the side. “You’ve been.. spacing out a lot lately. Maybe I can help.” 

Had he been spacing out? Maybe. Probably. It was hard not to with all the things spiraling in his head. 

But there was something Wooyoung deserved to know, something San should have come clean with a long time ago. He should have said it right after he realized it, but he couldn’t, and now… 

Now, Wooyoung looked at him with happiness glowing on his face, along with a hint of curiosity. 

San opened his mouth, ready to destroy everything. “I think… I think I…” 

God, he couldn’t say it. 

“It’s alright. You can tell me everything. You know you can, right?” 

“Yeah, but…” 

Wooyoung smiled and squeezed his hand. 

San looked away. “I think I killed Beomseok.” 

The silence was deafening, and no, San knew this would screw everything up, but he still… fuck. 

“How?” Wooyoung’s voice was smaller, and San’s heart clenched. He chanced a small glance at the King. Wooyoung was looking past him, eyes staring over San’s shoulder. 

“I was… I was supposed to die, you know, before Sena healed me.” San tapped his chest, where he knew a discolored patch marred his skin. “I think.. the magic saved me, but it killed someone else in my place.” 

It was still quiet, and San looked down, giving Wooyoung time to process this. But it was hard to think in the silence. And San needed Wooyoung to know..

“I sorry. I’m so, so sorry. You’d still.. you’d still have a father if it weren’t for me,” San muttered. 

“If it weren’t for you, I’d be dead.” 

San stared over at him, taking in the conviction in Wooyoung’s eyes. 

“Don’t apologize. And this.. all of this- it was all Sena, okay? Let’s just look past it and be happy we have each other in the end.” 

San smiled, but his brows were still furrowed, still seconds away from a frown. Wooyoung sighed and pulled him even closer, wrapping an arm around San’s waist. “Promise me you won’t regret anything. If we dwell too long on it, we can’t move forward.” 

There was more San needed to get out, more he needed to lie out at Wooyoung’s feet, to place under his judgement. But Wooyoung looked at him with soft eyes, and then San knew. Wooyoung wouldn’t care that San knew he was under the spell. He wouldn’t care that San was the one who burnt the field. He wouldn’t care that for a period of time, San hated Wooyoung more than anything. He wouldn’t care that San hated himself for letting any of this happen. Well, maybe he would, but not in the way San thought he would. 

“You still look sad,” Wooyoung whispered, and San knew it would be hard to let go of the past the way Wooyoung wanted him to. 

But as always, Wooyoung already knew what was running through his mind. “I already forgave you, so can you forgive yourself too? For me?” 

San didn’t know. Could he? “I can try.” 

He could try. 

(。-`ω´-)

Wooyoung loved San. 

And he was so fucking happy. Some days, he still dreamed of escaping the castle, of living a soft, free life with San in the countryside, but ruling over Sinsu wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. There was something liberating about it, being able to shape the kingdom in a way he wanted it to be. 

His days weren’t as exciting anymore, now filled with dozens of meetings and a lot of writing and reading, but he was okay with that. Now, he just had more to look forward to on his free time and future “vacation days” to Balor. 

He had San too. That may be the best part. In fact, he was sure that was the best part. He’d gladly take this life over any other without San in it. 

And speaking of San...

“You’re still worried about something,” Wooyoung said, and San’s eyes went wide with a soft squeak. 

Cute. 

They were laying on their sides on Wooyoung’s bed, facing each other and relaxing after their long day of doing absolutely nothing of importance. San’s magic by the field had left him exhausted, and Wooyoung was happy to use that as an excuse to cuddle. 

Wooyoung was so fucking happy. 

“I…” San trailed off, eyes cast to the side. “I just can’t believe it.” 

“Can’t believe what?” 

“I don’t know…” he said. “All of this? You? Everything, I guess. I feel like I’ll wake up anytime now and find myself back in my mum’s old, shabby house.” 

Wooyoung sighed. “Then I’ll have to go there and drag you back again.” He pouted. “And I rather like that house, by the way. It’s homey and comfy.” 

San snuggled closer into the soft sheets. “Even better than this?” His fingers clutched at the expensive fabric between them, knuckles brushing against Wooyoung’s chest.

Wooyoung wanted to squish his cheeks, but he kept that thought to himself.

“Yeah. Better than this.” Wooyoung hit San’s side, but quickly brushed a hand over the spot, pulling him close. He pressed their noses together and held back a laugh at San’s scrunched up expression. “My little sorcerer,” he whispered, followed by a surge of warmth. 

“My idiot king.” San reached up and tucked a few strands of hair behind his ear. Wooyoung let his eyelids fall at the touch. 

“I want you to be my court sorcerer.” The words came out fast, and Wooyoung froze as he said them. He had been thinking about it for a while, and he didn’t expect for it to come spilling out so quickly.  

San went quiet for a moment, and Wooyoung looked up again, catching the stricken expression on his face “It hasn’t even been a week, and you’re already tired of me washing your clothes?” San asked. 

Wooyoung’s insides froze up even more, the idea that San wanted to stay his servant never came to mind. 

He quickly recovered and cleared his throat. “I’m tired of it being a scandal when you spend the night in my chambers,” he whispered. 

San smiled at him, his dimples peeking through and a glint in his eye. “Maybe someday, I could be your royal consort instead and get a pretty crown like yours.”  

Oh..

“Who says we can’t have both?” Wooyoung grinned. “I’m the King.”  

“To me, you’ll always be a prat.” San reached up and gave him a half-hearted flick to the forehead. 

“Choi San,” Wooyoung’s eyes crinkled up as he tried to hide the smile on his face. “You’re lucky I love you.” 

“Yeah?” San laughed. “What am I to you, then?”

San was so many things. San gave him direction in a world too big to navigate alone. He was the light in Wooyoung’s day, the rush of spring air after a long, harsh winter. There weren’t enough words to describe what San meant to him.

So Wooyoung leaned over and kissed him instead. 

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

[lynnt1ny]

You're Magic To Me: Ch. 5

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Woosan (Multichaptered; Prince!Wooyoung and Servant!San)

Full WC: 91.3k Ch. 5 WC: 12.4k

Fic Blurb:

Wooyoung didn’t know what he did to deserve such a horrible manservant. With the weight of the kingdom over his head and the constant demands of his father, he couldn’t afford to deal with this every day. But why did San have to be so bloody endearing? After a series of coincidences, San found himself stuck at the Prince’s side, day in and day out. Of course he’d accidentally fall in love along the way. San didn’t know what to expect when he moved into the castle, but it certainly wasn’t this.   --- Aka, my Merlin-obsessed ass decided to write a Merlin-inspired fic.

His Father's Son

Wooyoung had seen many executions in his life. 

On his twelfth birthday, Beomseok took him to his first beheading. He stood tall at his father’s side, up high on the balcony above the block. An hour later, Wooyoung found himself in front of a pail, the contents of his stomach coming up in waves. The cook sat behind him, patting his back, and Yeosang held his hand. His father was no where to be seen. 

After that, he was dragged to watch over the next execution, and the next, and the next, and now, about a decade later, it was just another part of his crazy life. He was numb to it. 

Wooyoung was no stranger to death, which was why he felt so conflicted about San. 

In all his years, he never knew anyone on the chopping block. Yes, he had seen one or two of them - had conversations with them, too, but they were always strangers. Nobodies. 

All Wooyoung had were a few knights. Yeosang. Hongjoong on an off-day. Yeosang’s servant, too, if he was being honest with himself. 

But they were all safe. They all had some sort of protection. Even Seonghwa was too liked, too popular in the castle to get rid of easily. 

San wasn’t safe, especially with that mouth of his. 

And after San left his rooms that night, that crushing reality hit him hard. 

The room was dark, and Wooyoung was on his side, his hands fisted in the sheets. Their conversation played over and over in his head, San threatening to quit, the implication of what that would mean for him. Out of everything they talked about, that was what Wooyoung was stuck on. That was what made him give in. 

Because while San hadn’t been in his life for too long, losing him would hurt like hell. 

He needed to keep San far, far away from his father and those few bastard lords of the castle. Seeing San with a few bruises put him off for an entire day, and Wooyoung couldn’t imagine what he may end up doing if… if something worse happened. 

He knew he wasn’t going to sleep well. Not tonight. Not with the image of San on that block in his head and the inevitable conversation with his father looming over it. But he tried, and after hours of tossing and turning, he finally fell asleep. 

.

Before he knew it, the curtains were opening, and Wooyoung felt a sharp pain on his forehead. It took a second for him to realize it was San’s finger. 

San flicked him again, and Wooyoung flinched back and buried his face into his pillow with a groan. 

“There are better ways to wake me up, San.”

“Would you prefer a bucket of water?” 

Wooyoung huffed and pulled the blankets over the back of his head. There was something about hearing San’s voice first thing every morning. As much as he should hate it, he couldn’t help but hide his grin into the pillow, his stomach turning circles through the haze of the early morning. 

 He heard San shuffling around the room, candles being lit, clothes getting picked out- this routine they had fallen into. Usually, San would immediately drag him out of bed, so Wooyoung was grateful for the extra minutes of shut-eye, although he spent the entirety of it hyperaware of San’s presence. 

But all good things must come to an end, and Wooyoung stiffened when he heard footsteps right next to him. Wooyoung felt San pull the covers off, the cool air hitting his bare skin all at once, and a warm hand on the back of his neck. 

“C’mon, you have stuff to do today,” San said. 

Oh, I’m aware, but... 

“Don’t wanna get up,” he slurred. 

San sighed, and Wooyoung felt rough hands roll him over onto his back. “Hurry up, you don’t want to be late for your council meetings.” 

Ah, of course it had to be a council day. It was a blessing in disguise. He could have his… talk with Beomseok after the meetings. Great. 

San pat his cheek playfully, almost mockingly,  and Wooyoung blinked open his eyes with a scrunched up nose. 

He would never admit it, but this was one of his favorite moments of the day. 

San’s face loomed above him, eyes forming little crescents on his face. His cheerfulness was contagious, and Wooyoung would never get enough of it, especially in mornings. Without meaning to, a small smile found its way to his lips. He flushed. 

“Alright, get up,” San said. He pulled Wooyoung up to a sitting position, his touch making Wooyoung’s skin burn. 

Lately, Wooyoung had been more… conscious of his state of dress around San. In the beginning, it didn’t matter. It never had before- not with any of the dozens of servants he’d gone through in his life. 

But San made him feel.. not weak, but vulnerable. And of course, Wooyoung trusted him, but it was a weird feeling, something he couldn’t explain with words. 

“I’m the one who gives the orders, San,” he mumbled, not awake enough to give a better quip. 

“Not now, you aren’t.” 

Wooyoung shook his head, and he sighed as San kept tugging on his arm. “I hate you so much,” he said, no bite to his words. 

“And I hate when you refuse to get up,” San said. “It’s like you are trying to make my job a nightmare.” 

“You’re not wrong.” 

Wooyoung flopped back on the bed, and he pulled San along with him, sending San sprawling on his stomach next to him on the bed. He closed his eyes. 

“You’re so difficult,” San groaned from his side. “I even let you sleep in a bit. What’s going on with you today?” 

“Tired,” Wooyoung mumbled. Lying down again, he could already feel sleep drawing him back in, San’s weight on the bed next to him a comforting presence. 

But San was having none of it. He sat up, and from his new position, he dug his arms underneath Wooyoung’s body and rolled him over, getting him precariously to the edge of the bed. 

“San! I just need a few more minutes.” 

“Yeah, and then a ‘few’ minutes will turn into five. And then ten, and the next thing you know, we’ve been asleep for hours and you miss your boring council meetings.” 

We.

And now Wooyoung could only think about sleeping with San. Just sleeping. Of course, San could never spend the night here. Everyone knew the guards were avid gossipers. Rumors would spread like crazy. No. He couldn’t let himself entertain those thoughts, although the reason why he desperately wanted it escaped him. 

It seemed San finally had enough, though, and Wooyoung yelped as San shoved him completely off the bed. 

Wooyoung landed hard on his back, the air knocked out of him. “One day, I’m actually going to put you in the stocks where you belong,” he said. 

“It’s a waste of food.” 

“And you’re a waste of space.” 

“Ouch.” 

San laid stomach down on the bed, his arms and head hooked over the side to peer down at Wooyoung with a grin, dimples out.   

Treason. 

“I can’t believe you just did that,” Wooyoung said.  

“What?” 

“Push the Crown Prince off his bed.” 

“Ooo you’re adding ‘crown’ to your title now? Fancy.” 

“I am the Crown Prince. The ‘crown’ was always there.” 

“Whatever you say.” 

Wooyoung hummed and stared up at San. He had never met someone who challenged him as much as San did (except maybe Yeosang). He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it though. These mornings were the best kind of torture, allowing them to banter without the eyes of the kingdom on them. A very, very selfish part of him was glad there was no end-date to San’s servant term, quickly followed by guilt. He had to remember that San was only there because he thought he would die otherwise. San was trapped. Jesus christ, this was never going to leave Wooyoung’s head. 

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to fall asleep on the floor.” San grumbled from above him. 

“It’s very likely.” 

“God, you’re a nuisance.” 

Wooyoung hummed and laid his hands over his stomach. “Just for that, I think you should attend the council meeting with me.” 

San visibly perked up. “No random chores to throw at me today?” 

Wooyoung shook his head, probably getting dirt all in his hair (San hadn’t washed the floors in a while, but what did he expect?). “Trust me. Council meetings are worse.” 

“Doubtful.” 

“Yep. You’ll see exactly what I mean. It’ll be the most boring hour or so of your life.” 

“Uh huh.”

It was hard to keep looking at San without breaking into a smile, so Wooyoung closed his eyes instead, ignoring the man above him. 

“Alright, that’s it!” 

Wooyoung heard San get up, and Wooyoung expected to feel San’s hands on him again, wrestling him back up. But instead, he spluttered when a splash of cold water hit his face, shocking him out of his drowsy state. 

“Choi San you asshole!” he thundered. He sat up and wiped at his face, his attempts to dry it in vain. San laughed and danced to the other side of the room, an empty cup in his hand. “Is that from my breakfast?” Wooyoung spluttered, and San only laughed louder. 

That morning, if San had to spend extra time getting bits of food out of Wooyoung’s hair, they didn’t say anything, and Wooyoung definitely didn’t say anything when San walked out of his chambers with berry juice staining his cheek. 

.

The council meetings weren’t boring. 

At least, they weren’t as boring as usual. 

When he originally brought up the idea, Wooyoung had forgotten it would put San and the King in the same room, along with the King’s old advisors and, dare he say, Beomseok’s ‘friends’- the exact group of people he vowed to keep San away from. He realized what he had done on the way there, and the internal screaming started, followed by the concealed panic

Behind him, San must have realized something was wrong, because he sped up his steps, walking closer and setting a grounding hand on Wooyoung’s nape. Wooyoung briefly wondered how San was already attuned to his emotions so well. 

“Are you, ah, going to bring up the servants during the meeting?” San asked, and Wooyoung stopped, looking over at San. 

“After,” he said. 

San nodded, and he gave Wooyoung a reassuring smile. “You’ll do great.” 

Wooyoung took the sleeve of his green shirt and wiped it against San’s cheek. “And you need to stay quiet.” 

“You don’t need to worry about me.” San winked. “I aced my first impression, or did you forget how I ended up as your servant in the first place?” 

“Just… be careful.” 

“And here I thought you were worried about talking to your dad.” 

Wooyoung shrugged with a grimace. “That too.” 

“Well,” San hummed. “In the meantime, I’ll be your perfect little servant. No need to worry.” He took Wooyoung’s shoulders and spun him around, giving him a little push. “You're actually going to be late if we keep getting distracted.”

Wooyoung huffed and walked ahead, feeling slightly better (but not much). 

.

Which brought him to the meetings themselves. 

They weren’t boring- not with San there.

To Wooyoung’s surprise, it began completely fine. He sat at a long table along with his father and his advisors. The number of servants were limited due to confidentiality, but Wooyoung was allowed a single servant at his beck and call, standing off behind him. The servants rotated after an hour or so, but that was plenty enough time for San to endure the torment that were council meetings. Plus, he still needed to clean those damn floors. 

Wooyoung wasn’t prepared for how weird it was to see San like this, so timid and quiet. It felt wrong, and every time he glanced back at him, he had to bite his lip and look away. San didn’t look anyone in the eye, and that alone made Wooyoung uneasy. 

He was being perfect, just like the other servants. It was perfect. Maybe Wooyoung didn’t have to worry all along. 

But not even ten minutes into the meeting, San had to go and be San. 

As he went to fill Wooyoung’s water for the first time, he leaned in far too close, and Wooyoung’s breath hitched. “Your dad’s totally spacing out already,” he whispered into Wooyoung’s ear. “And the guy to the left of him really needs to use the chamberpot.” He sniggered lightly before retreating back to his post, once again resuming his subservient mannerisms. 

Wooyoung closed his eyes and took a deep breath, wondering what he did wrong in a past life to deserve this. 

He glanced back again and glared. He saw San’s eyes flick up, roaming around the table before he smiled back and stuck his tongue out at Wooyoung. 

Lord help him. 

And like a switch, San’s eyes were back on the floor, shoulder’s slightly hunched. 

Wooyoung hated it. 

He tried to focus on the proceedings. As boring as it was, they were discussing important matters for the kingdom, and Wooyoung would need to use these outcomes to make his own decisions in the future. San made it absolutely impossible though. Throughout the next hour, he found excuses to come up behind Wooyoung and whisper jokes and quips into his ear. It no longer became a question of whether he’d get caught, but whether Wooyoung could keep his composure together in such a serious setting. 

One thing was for sure: Wooyoung was never taking San to one of these again. 

He breathed a sigh of relief when the servant rotation finally came, and San gave him a discreet salute on the way out. Wooyoung pursed his lips together, slightly shaking his head in exasperation. 

And then his father was taking to him, and Wooyoung’s attention snapped back to the table. 

“How is that new servant of yours, Wooyoung?” Beomseok asked. His gaze bored into him, and Wooyoung tried to settle into an expression of indifference. 

“He’s perfect, just like you said he was,” Wooyoung said. He prayed his father would leave it at that. 

He didn’t.

Beomseok clasped his hands together with a grin. “So you are satisfied with my choice?” 

“Very.” 

The King then turned to his advisors and said, “See? The things one can accomplish when giving others the right… motivation.” 

Wooyoung felt his stomach drop, his negative thoughts from that morning returning in waves. 

He just knew his talk with his father was not going to go well.

(。-`ω´-)

San was never going to a council meeting again. 

Don’t get him wrong: Annoying Wooyoung was always a fun pastime, but not in front of the most powerful people in the kingdom. 

He couldn’t help it though. 

Wooyoung was obviously too pent up. He needed to relax, and it wasn’t like San could walk up and massage the tension out of his shoulders (He probably wouldn’t do that even if they were alone. They weren’t… there yet). But Wooyoung being anxious made San anxious, so he did the next best thing.

San had noticed that after a long day of dealing with officials and the pressures of the castle, Wooyoung always loosened up when San talked to him, whether it be just the sound of his voice, or the constant teasing. 

San didn’t know what to make with that information, but he thought he might as well use it to his advantage then. It seemed to work, and San gave himself a mental pat on the back. 

It was stressful, though- maintaining the facade. He tried to imitate the other servants he saw

After he was dismissed, Wooyoung probably thought San would go do some stupid chore for him like always, but San went back behind the training grounds instead. He passed by the pavilion (which San later found out was an extension of the castle armory), and he headed to the field Wooyoung had pushed him into on his second day in his service. 

He was greeted with the familiar sight of blue petals. It really was beautiful, but San couldn’t help but notice how strange the flowers were at the same time. For one, they grew across the floor in vines, a few twisting up trees on the far side of the field. And second, they wouldn’t stop dying. 

He went there at night, once, on an errand for Hongjoong (he needed a few herbs from the forest), and the entire field was desolate. The flowers were all shriveled up  and colorless where there was once brilliant blue. 

When he woke up the next day, he went to go investigate under the early light of the morning, only to find new blooms in their places. The flowers never lasted more than a day, but they always came back in a never-ending cycle.

Which was inconvenient when you wanted to keep a vase of them in the Prince’s room. 

San stooped down and picked a few from the field before heading back in the direction he came from. 

The castle was quiet today. The weather was nice as well, slightly warmer than it had been the past few days, and San thought he might as well take a stroll after he finished Wooyoung’s tedious list of chores. The fresh air was nice, too. Maybe he’d take Hongjoong along; that man really needed a break. 

San wished he could do something more to thank Hongjoong for everything. Running an errand every now and then didn’t feel like enough. Hongjoong had been nothing but kind and caring. Not only did he offer his hospitality, but he also endured San’s rants and occasional complaints about Wooyoung. Hongjoong’s very presence was warm- warm and inviting. He made San feel at home. 

San didn’t pass many people on his way to Wooyoung’s chambers, so he was surprised to see Yeosang and Seonghwa up ahead in the corridor. Yeosang leaned up against one side of the stone wall, and Seonghwa stood to his side, already raising a hand to wave at San. 

Yeosang straightened as he drew closer. No matter how many times San saw him, Yeosang’s beauty was always a shock, blonde locks making him look almost ethereal. “San!” he called. “It’s been a while.” 

San smiled. “I literally saw you both yesterday.” 

Yeosang waved a hand dismissively. “Doesn’t feel like it.” 

Seonghwa noticed the flowers in San’s hand then. “Oh? Who’s the lucky girl?” He reached over and took one in his hand, bringing it up to his nose. 

Yeosang laughed. “Those are the flowers Wooyoung is obsessed with, Seonghwa.” 

San rolled his eyes. “They’re a nuisance.” 

“Well, they’re pretty,” Seonghwa said. He tucked the one in his hand behind Yeosang’s ear. “He has good taste.” 

San smiled. He wished he and Wooyoung had the same bond Seonghwa and Yeosang did. After a few weeks of afternoon talks and dining, it was obvious to anyone that Yeosang and Seonghwa had something special. They trusted each other wholeheartedly, almost closer than friends, so of course San couldn’t do anything but smile when he saw them together. Their friendship was so… pure. Hanging out with them was a nice change of pace after dealing with Wooyoung all day. 

“So you’re taking these to Wooyoung’s room?” Yeosang brushed a hand over the flower in his hair. 

“Yes! I’m heading there now,” San said. “So.. no. No girl.” He bit back laughter at Seonghwa’s slightly embarrassed expression. “Would you both like to join me? I feel like I’ve been hogging his company lately.” 

But Yeosang was already shaking his head. “No, it’s alright. You’re just doing your job.” He smiled. “But do tell Wooyoung that if he doesn’t arrange that picnic he promised me soon there’ll be hell to pay.” 

“Will do,” San laughed. 

Wooyoung’s room really was still a mess. 

If one of the King’s advisors ever walked in, San would probably be out of a job (and his head), but in his defense it was merely… organized chaos. 

He made the bed every morning at least, so he gets points there. Everything else on the other hand was atrocious. Negative points.

His weird obsession with keeping fresh flowers in the room came from absolutely nowhere, or at least, he thought it did. He thought back to Wooyoung's first complaint, about how his last servant let the flowers die. 

Despite the teasing and the jokes, Wooyoung rarely ever complained about his actual service, so that one really struck a chord in him. Wooyoung would never admit it, but San had a feeling he actually liked the mess. It wasn’t gross or anything, just disorganized. It made the room feel more homey. 

San heard Wooyoung walk in as he set the flowers in place in the corner of the room. The door closed with a deafening thump, followed by a suffocating silence. San’s greeting died on his lips when he turned around and saw the state Wooyoung was in. 

Wooyoung leaned back against the closed door. His hands covered his face, and his shoulders shuddered as he took long, deep breaths. 

San didn’t know what to do. Did Wooyoung want him to stay? Was he alright? No, that was a stupid question. San had never seen him look so… empty. 

“Wooyoung?” San called out, a question in his voice. 

The boy jolted from his position, as if just noticing San’s presence in the room. His hands slid down, revealing wide, glassy eyes. He didn’t say anything. 

San took a few tentative steps forward, and when Wooyoung stayed silent, he closed the distance quickly. “Hey, Woo?” San lightly brushed the back of one of Wooyoung 's hands. “Hey, let’s go sit down.” He placed a firm hand on Wooyoung’s lower back and led him to sit on the edge of his bed. 

He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was his fault. Maybe he really shouldn’t have pushed Wooyoung to do this. It obviously didn’t go well, and Wooyoung tried so hard to tell him that last night. He knew this would happen, yet he went and did it anyways.

All because San asked him to. 

“I’m guessing it didn’t go well?” San voiced his thoughts. He kept a steady hand on Wooyoung’s back, and he looked into his face with genuine concern. 

He felt so out of his depth in this situation. 

San hugged him last night. That alone crossed so many lines as a servant. Would Wooyoung want him to hug him again? Could San hug him again? He didn’t know how to comfort people. He didn’t know how to help, but he needed to help. This was all his fault. 

Wooyoung shook his head. “I knew it wouldn’t go well, but I wanted to try,” he said. He sighed. “I really wish I could do more to help. It’s hard under his constant watch, though.” 

San assumed he was talking about the King. “Well, it’s not like he has eyes everywhere. I mean, look at us now.” He wrapped an arm around Wooyoung’s shoulders, carefully looking for any signs of discomfort.

“True,” Wooyoung hummed. “I could try to pull something behind his back. I don’t know how effective it’ll be, but it’s something.” 

“Baby steps.” 

“Yeah.” 

Wooyoung bit his bottom lip and looked away. His shoulders were hunched under San’s arm, but when San moved to pull away, he pressed even closer. 

“You’re still upset,” San said, trying to ignore how his heart sped at the action. There were more important things to deal with right now, like how Wooyoung still looked seconds from crying, and honestly, San was impressed by how long Wooyoung managed to keep himself together. 

“I mean, I knew going to him would be pointless, but…” 

San let Wooyoung rest his head on his shoulder. This was definitely crossing some sort of line. Dammit that’s not important right now. “But?”

“He changed the topic. After his whole speech about me going soft, he changed the topic.”

“And?” San gently pressed him again. The weight on his shoulder shifted, and San looked over to see Wooyoung gazing up at him with a quiver to his lip. 

Too close, too close. God, San, stop thinking about this and help him.

“He wants me to marry.” 

“Marry?” San asked, his thoughts screeching to a halt.

Wooyoung nodded, his chin digging into San shoulder.  “He said to start thinking about it- that he’s getting old, and I need… I need an heir.”

“Oh.” San didn’t know what to say. Wooyoung was obviously upset about this. Wasn’t marriage… good? Maybe not if Wooyoung didn’t want it. Now that he thought about it, Wooyoung had never mentioned an interest in anyone in the castle. “Do you have anyone in mind?” he blurted out. 

Wooyoung sighed. “No,” he said. “Knowing him, he’ll marry me off for a stupid alliance that could have been secured with simple negotiations.” 

San mulled over that with a wince. He had forgotten that the royal family didn’t marry for love. They married for their weird, convoluted politics and treaties. San squeezed Wooyoung’s shoulder. “You could always say no. It’s not like you have to do something just because your father wants it,” he said. “It’s your life.” 

“Is it really?” Wooyoung said. “Ever since I was born, my life has been dedicated to this kingdom and its people. I knew I would have to marry eventually. I just thought I had more time.” 

“But this is something you can say no to,” San said. “When you take the throne, a happy king will be better than an unhappy one.” With his free hand, he pat Wooyoung’s knee. “You should marry for love.” 

“I don’t love anyone.” 

San smiled. “You will eventually.” 

(。-`ω´-)

Having San as a servant was a whirlwind.

A month passed, and not only did San get more irritating, but Wooyoung grew more attached, as if he weren’t already too close in the first place. His feeling that San was going to be the death of him grew as each day passed. 

But seriously, seeing him every day, every morning, was going to make him have a heart attack. He could see a premature death in his future, all because San smiled at him. Yes, it was getting this bad. 

The days were growing colder, and a new chill set into the air, harsh and unforgiving against his bare skin. Wooyoung didn’t like winter. It made training difficult, and the heavier clothes were just as suffocating as the additional duties the season brought. 

Winters in Sinsu were nothing to scoff at, and when Wooyoung caught sight of the first snow of the year, he felt a growing sense of dread settle in the pit of his stomach. 

San liked winter. He said it was the prettiest season. He liked the shorter days and the snow that came with it. He told Wooyoung that hugs were always warmer in winter. Nowadays, Wooyoung could find San sitting by his fireplace, a hot drink in his hand and a content smile on his lips. He was always there, waiting for Wooyoung to return.

San made winter bearable. 

A few days prior, Yeosang asked him what their relationship was, and Wooyoung couldn’t find the words to answer him. They were friends, that’s for sure. They bickered, and they fought, but San made him better. When the weight of Wooyoung’s responsibilities crushed him, San was there to pick up the pieces and remind him he was human too. 

When Wooyoung heard he was getting a new manservant, he had no idea how deep he’d sink. His father would say he was too dependent on him, too attached, and Wooyoung knew that. But he couldn’t help it. He didn’t know when he started to fall, but San kept him from hitting the ground.  

And then San wanted to leave.

“I was wondering if I could have a few days off,” San had said. He was draped across Wooyoung’s bed on his back, staring up at the ceiling.  Wooyoung was sitting at his desk, trying to review concerning reports from Sinsu’s borders. He couldn’t focus on them, and San's voice had finally broken his concentration for good. 

“You want a few days off?” Wooyoung asked. 

“Yeah... that’s what I just said.” 

A few days. Without San. 

He was suddenly back to those old days of waking up, playing the part, and going back to sleep- the same unending, monotonous routine, the one without San. 

“Why?” 

San hummed. “My mum’s birthday is soon. I don’t want her to be alone.” 

Oh. 

Wooyoung knew San missed his home. He didn’t talk about it much, but Wooyoung heard the wistful quality of his voice the few times he did mention it. He felt guilty, wanting San to think of the castle as his home instead, like Wooyoung did. He wanted San to feel at home.

But he couldn’t say no to this. 

“Okay.” 

San laughed. “That was easy.” 

Wooyoung looked back down at his reports, and he furrowed his eyebrows. 

He didn’t want San to leave. 

And he knew he was being selfish, but he couldn’t help it. 

“What village are you from, anyways? You never told me,” Wooyoung said.

“You never asked.” 

“Well, I’m asking now, aren’t I?” 

San lazily stretched and sat up, looking over at Wooyoung. There was something almost cat-like in the way he moved. Wooyoung tried his best to ignore how San’s simplest movements put him on edge. “Balor. You’ve probably never heard of it. It’s on the border of Sinsu and Essetir.” 

Wooyoung sighed. That was far. Too far. 

“Do you.. want a horse?” he asked. In his head, he frantically tried to think of a valid excuse to keep San here with him without him seeming like an asshole. He came up blank. 

“I’d appreciate one.” 

Wooyoung nodded and scribbled a quick note addressed to the stablehands. 

“How long will you be gone?” he muttered. 

“A week at most.” 

A week.

He could go an entire week without San. Hell, he’d spent the past twenty years without him. Surely he could last a week. 

Winter was going to kill him. Maybe San would not be the death of him, but his absence surely will. 

“Seonghwa said he’d take over my duties,” San said. 

“You already asked him?”  

San nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been, uh, planning this for a while.” 

Wooyoung gave him a faint smile. “Well, you have my blessing.” He really didn’t, but how could Wooyoung say no? 

“And your horse,” San got up and winked, walking over and taking the slip of parchment from Wooyoung’s desk. 

Wooyoung scrunched up his nose. “Not my horse. Carla wouldn’t tolerate your bony ass.” 

“Carla loves me.” 

“When are you leaving?” Wooyoung changed the subject because of course his horse loved him. Everyone loved San. 

“Tomorrow morning. I’m afraid you’ll miss my handsome face when you wake up.” 

“Seonghwa is nicer to look at,” Wooyoung retorted. 

No, he isn’t, you liar. 

“Whatever you say,” San said. He smiled. “I’ll see you tonight, then. I’m going to go get packed up.” 

Wooyoung nodded in reply. “Make sure you bring something warm.” 

San scoffed. “You don’t have to worry about me, Wooyoungie.” 

He turned and left, and the dread of spending an entire week without San continued to grow now that Wooyoung was alone. Seonghwa was a fine servant, but it won’t be the same. He already missed San like he would miss his own limb. This will not bode well. 

Wooyoung glanced down at the reports on his desk in an attempt to distract himself from this. He read over the words in a daze.

Balor…. On the border of Sinsu and Essetir. 

The borders. 

These reports came from the borders. 

Wooyoung bit his lip.

He had an idea. A stupid, horrible idea that could get both him and San in a lot of trouble. 

San may not be using Wooyoung’s horse, but Wooyoung could… 

.

Seonghwa woke him with little ceremony. While San would have jumped on him and jabbed at his side, laughing in his ear, Seonghwa merely shook him awake. It was calming- a pleasant start to the day that didn’t involve cursing at the top of his lungs and impromptu wrestling.  

Wooyoung missed San. 

Last night, San was so excited, so happy to leave him. He didn’t even call Wooyoung any names. He didn’t poke him or playfully slap his side. Instead, he talked about Balor. He talked about his mother. 

And Wooyoung listened. Of course he did. San’s life was always so private to Wooyoung, something outside his circle of control. He clung to every detail like a fish hooked on a line. 

San’s mother was named Nala. She raised him alone. The fields of Balor were beautiful in the spring. San loved his mother’s cooking, even more so than anything he’d had in the castle. 

Wooyoung thought he’d learn to cook if it made San that happy. 

He added all of this to a mental list he had in his head, titled ‘New Things About San.’ It was an ever-growing list, one he didn’t realize he was even making until recently. 

Before San left last night, he gave Wooyoung a soft pat on the cheek. “I’ll be back before you know it,” he said, and of course he knew how much this upset Wooyoung. 

Wooyoung tried to smile. “Take your time. My room will finally be clean for once without you.” 

San grimaced. “Don’t torture Seonghwa too much.” 

“No promises.” 

He was definitely going to torture Seonghwa. 

So when Seonghwa woke him up that morning, the first thing out of Wooyoung’s mouth was “Can you cover for me?” 

“Huh?” Seonghwa looked really confused, which was justified, but Wooyoung didn’t have the time to explain. San was probably long out of the front gates. Wooyoung needed time to catch up to him before he made it to Balor. 

“Just for a week. I need you to tell my father that I’m.. checking on the outer borders of the kingdom.” 

“And you can’t do this yourself?” 

“No, he’ll ask me too many questions that I won’t have answers for.” 

Seonghwa narrowed his eyes. “You’re going after San.” 

“Possibly.” 

With an exasperated huff, Seonghwa shook his head. “Yeosang told me you’re attached, but I didn’t think it was this bad.” 

“Don’t remind me,” Wooyoung closed his eyes and stretched. “And tell Yeosang to mind his own business.” 

“That won’t stop him.” 

“No shit.” Wooyoung got up and tried to shake the weariness out of his head. He was wasting time. 

“Let’s get going.” 

.

After giving Yeosang and a few of his knights a quick goodbye, Wooyoung felt the familiar sway of his horse beneath him. He hadn’t been able to ride in a long time, his duties growing as each day passed. He missed it, though. He missed the freedom it gave him. He missed the wind in his hair and the castle to his back.

Despite grumbling about it, Seonghwa helped pack his bags. He put Wooyoung in chainmail and wrapped him in furs. “Yeosang and San would kill me if I let you go unprepared,” he said. 

Yes. Yes, they would. 

Wooyoung considered taking a knight along too, maybe Jongho, but ultimately decided against it. Wooyoung himself was intrusion enough. After all, he was ultimately crashing San’s time with his family and friends at home. He mentally prepared himself for how annoyed San was going to be to see him. 

He shot past the front gates of the citadel. The guards gave him strange looks as he went. It wasn’t every day the Prince left unannounced. He couldn’t turn back now, and he could only hope he packed enough rations to last the journey. 

The snow quickly became a problem, and he couldn’t urge his horse to go faster without fear of slipping or injury. As he moved further and further from the city, his pace slowed to a trot, and he cursed winter for the hundredth time. 

At least it meant San couldn’t have gone far. After scouring over maps, Wooyoung found only one major route that could safely bring him to Balor. That must be the one San was taking. It cut through the forests that surrounded Sinsu, and Wooyoung prayed he’d catch up before San reached it. It didn’t look promising, though, as he could already see the line of trees up ahead. 

A doubt held fast in the back of his mind, one that said San wasn’t going this way, that he wouldn’t be happy to see him (what was he kidding, San probably planned this not only to visit his mother, but to get away from Wooyoung. That was it). Not for the first time, Wooyoung questioned his actions and wondered why the hell he was putting himself through this. 

It was cold. It was damn winter. Wooyoung’s nose and his cheeks grew pink as the wind bit at them. Bits and pieces of ice stuck in his hair, turning it gray, and through the layers of fur and clothes, he felt himself grow numb. Although it wasn’t even midday, he couldn’t wait to stop and make camp, to sit by the fire and fall asleep to the sound of crackling wood.  

If Wooyoung felt like this already, San was probably miserable right now. 

What was he going to say to San? ‘Hey, surprise? I didn’t want you to leave, so I’m forcing you to take me to your village?’ or ‘It’s dangerous out here, and I couldn’t bear for you to get hurt?’ 

By taking this trip, Wooyoung was driving a stake through his pride. 

Still, he kept going. He kept riding until the trees enveloped him and shadows danced on the ground below him. Where there used to be various shades of dark green, the forest was a patchwork of ice and snow—a crystallic wonderland, vicious but beautiful. 

In the end, he didn’t find San. San found him. 

He was traveling by foot then, leading his horse through some tricky bramble and narrow passages. This was why he wanted to catch San before the forest, no matter how impossible it seemed. The pace felt too slow, and despite being extremely familiar with the maps and environment, he felt like he was starting to go in circles. 

That is, until he heard a very, very loud voice off the side of the path. 

“Wooyoung? What the fuck?” 

Wooyoung’s head snapped up. And there he was. 

San wore a long fur coat. It was slightly too short for him, and Wooyoung guessed it came straight from Hongjoong’s closet. His hair was mussed from travel, and he held the reins to one of the castle horses as it lapped at the snow on the ground. His face matched Wooyoung’s—flushed from the cold, and his mouth was stuck open in shock. San looked so bewildered, and it would have been funny if Wooyoung wasn’t desperately trying to think of something to say in response.

“What the hell are you doing out here? Don’t you have important prince stuff to do?”  San said the words so fast that Wooyoung was surprised he didn’t stumble over them. 

“Obviously not.” 

“So.. you came after me.” 

“I did not.” I so did.  

“Then why are you here?” 

“Border patrol.” 

San nodded condescendingly. “Okay… where’s the patrol?” 

“I’m the patrol.” 

“I’m pretty sure patrols consist of at least three or four knights.” 

Wooyoung didn’t have an answer to that. 

San smirked. “I can’t believe you came all this way… for what? To annoy me? Give me more orders?” 

“This chainmail could use some cleaning.” 

“Not happening. I’m on break, remember?” 

Wooyoung shook his head. “Could you at least pretend to be happy to see me?” 

San rolled his eyes. “Oh, I’m so happy,” he said. 

“You should be. It’s, uh, dangerous out here. Are you even armed? ” 

San dramatically turned in a circle, arms outstretched. “Where’s the danger, hm?” He smiled at Wooyoung, and the forest stayed quiet, with only the soft rustle of snow falling from branches and a chirp from a nearby bird. 

“It’ll come eventually,” Wooyoung said. 

“Uh-huh.” 

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “Let’s just go.” He pulled on the reins of his horse, and he took a few steps forward and turned back to where San stood still dumbly. “Are you coming or not?” 

San stared at him. “You’re coming to Balor? For the week?” 

“Is that okay?” Wooyoung held his breath as a grin slowly spread across San’s face, and his earlier worries dissipated just like that. 

“It’s more than okay. I’m just… surprised,” San said. He brought his horse forward, and then they were walking side by side on the path, their horses trailing just behind them. Wooyoung focused on the crunch of snow beneath his boots, the way even the slightest brush of wind stung his skin. 

He glanced at San every now and then. His eyes were still wide, and Wooyoung could see the gears turning in his head. “What is it?” Wooyoung eventually asked, his head tilted to the side. 

San tried to hide his smile, but Wooyoung caught how the corners of his mouth tilted up. “Nothing, it’s just… “he hesitated. “I can’t believe I’m taking you home. You’re… you're going to meet my mum.” He shook his head with a small laugh, “It doesn’t feel real.” 

This seemed like a big deal to San. Intrigued, Wooyoung pushed. “How so?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Why doesn’t it feel real? It’s only natural that I meet her. I mean, we’ve been friends for a while now. You’ve met my father.” 

“It’s not the same,” San said. “Everyone in my village idolizes you. I idolized you. Growing up, I was obsessed with hearing stories of the great Prince Wooyoung.” 

His words gave Wooyoung a small smile, and he looked away. 

“And now I’m taking you home, and it doesn’t feel real,” San finished. 

“Ah.”

They finally reached an open area where it was safe to ride their horses, but Wooyoung didn’t want to get up. He wanted to stay on the ground with San. It was easier to talk. He didn’t want to end this conversation. 

He also wanted San to relax. 

And then he had an idea. A fantasy that he shouldn’t indulge in- a thought worming into his head until he made a terrible, impulsive decision. It’ll be too good to be true, but… 

“Maybe it’ll be better if they don’t know it’s me,” Wooyoung said. “I could just a friend from the castle, borrowing fancy supplies to keep us safe for the journey.” 

San gave him a strange look. “Why would we do that?” he asked. 

Wooyoung shrugged. “It’ll attract less attention. You could spend more time with your mother uninterrupted,” he said. 

That wasn’t the real reason, and he knew San could see right through him. 

Thankfully, he didn’t say anything about it. 

“Sure, sounds like a plan,” San replied. 

.

Eventually, they mounted their horses and continued on. They spent much of the journey in a comfortable silence, which was unusual for the both of them, but Wooyoung didn’t mind. When their breathing grew heavy, they took breaks and ate, feeding the horses and sitting on the frozen floor. 

It became apparent that they would not make it to Balor in one day, and Wooyoung didn’t expect them to, but the hope for a warm bed and warm food was always there in the back of his mind, nagging at him. They would have to stop for the night. 

As the sun dipped below the tops of the trees, San and Wooyoung set out to find a good place to set up camp. They found a nice clearing off the side of the path, not far enough for them to get lost, but far enough to give them privacy. A high cliff backed one side of it while trees enclosed them in a half-circle on the other. The sky glowed a light lilac, reflecting off icicles that were frozen in time above them, and Wooyoung would have noted the potential danger and moved them if he wasn’t so damn tired. 

They cleared a patch of ground of its snow. San worked on getting a fired started, and Wooyoung secured their horses, taking out rations and bedrolls from their packs. It was growing dark fast, and Wooyoung had forgotten how short the days felt at this time of the year. 

When he turned around, San already had a clump of dry wood on the ground, and he worked with a crease in his forehead and a spark of concentration in his eyes. Wooyoung watched and waited for the smug satisfaction San always sported after completing even the smallest tasks. 

A bright flame started up, and Wooyoung smiled. “Would you look at that? You are useful sometimes.” 

San stuck his tongue out at him and sprawled back on the floor. “Finally warm,” he groaned.  

And yes, god, the fire felt so nice after their ride. Wooyoung dropped his armful of supplies on the floor and laid down himself, feeling his aching muscles finally relax at the warmth. 

Wooyoung heard San sigh on the other side of the fire before a rustle of movement. He glanced up and saw San standing over their materials. They had just laid down, and San was about to start heating their rations. 

“You don’t have to do that now,” Wooyoung said. “We’re both tired. Get some rest.” 

Wooyoung’s head lolled to the side, and he watched San stop and look over at him. Wooyoung probably looked like a mess- a clump of chainmail and furs, matted together from the damp snow. 

The fire illuminated one side of San’s face, the flickering light dancing across his features. He smiled. “You get some rest. I’ll take care of you,” San said. He crouched down and rifled through their supplies, and Wooyoung couldn’t help but let his eyelids droop. The fire felt so nice. He wanted San to enjoy it too. 

In his exhaustion, he felt sleep claw at him, pulling him in, and in the back of his mind, he realized he didn’t utter a single command that day. 

San eventually woke him not too long after. They ate, and San tugged at Wooyoung’s clothing, muttering under his breath. With his back to the fire, he let San pull off the chainmail, leaving him in a thin undershirt and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He felt light without the extra weight, the extra protection. He felt exposed, but it was okay because it was just San there. Only San. 

It was dark now. The moon was high in the sky, looming overhead, and Wooyoung felt a sense of contentment. It was nice. It was peaceful. 

They laid out their bedrolls on opposite sides of the fire, and Wooyoung longed to close the distance. He wanted to be able to reach out and touch him, and yes, it was weird, but it felt so natural at the same time. He wanted so much, but there was that line. It kept shifting, and it was dangerous to touch, to get close to. That fire was between them, and in the end, he knew stepping across it would only burn. 

“Good night, Wooyoungie,” San said. 

Good night. 

.

They arrived at Balor the next evening. 

Even from a distance, Wooyoung could see low-roofed buildings and fields stretched behind them, frozen over by the cold. It was a quaint town, the kind where villagers knew everyone and gossip ran fast. Suddenly, Wooyoung was glad they planned to keep his identity a secret. 

They dismounted at the entrance and tried their best to be inconspicuous walking in. San wanted his arrival to be a surprise. Glancing over, Wooyoung saw San’s face light up at the familiar streets. 

“It’s like nothing changed,” San said under his breath, and Wooyoung felt a tug in his gut. 

San led them to the far end of the village. Along the way, they attracted a few stares. Wooyoung was self-conscious in the armor, and he wished they spent the time to fabricate a better story for him, other than him being ‘a friend.’ He was used to being stared at, but for some reason, here, he felt the eyes sticking to him like leeches. 

One or two people came up to San and said hello. Wooyoung didn’t listen in to the conversations, though. He felt like he was intruding, like he wasn’t supposed to be there. To be honest, he really wasn’t supposed to be there. It was unnerving in a way he’d never felt before. 

They stopped in front of a small house. It seemed worn from time and weather, but it was nice. It was just the kind of home Wooyoung would want to have if he wasn’t stuck in the castle—strong, stone walls with a hint of wooden paneling, and a thatched roof above to redirect the rain. 

Next to him, San smiled, and Wooyoung silently offered to take the reins of his horse with an outstretched hand. 

With the two horses at his side, Wooyoung felt a giddy excitement mixed with a dose of nerves. He was going to meet San’s mother. San’s mother. If bringing Wooyoung home didn’t feel real to San, then this definitely didn’t feel real to Wooyoung. With every step San took, Wooyoung’s nervous energy rose, and by the time San knocked on the door, he felt like a string ready to snap. 

Something shuffled inside, and then the door opened. A woman stepped out. Her hair was cut in a bob, and she wore a warm, woolen dress. She seemed younger than Wooyoung expected, in the way she presented herself, but she wore her age in the lines of her face, in the crinkles next to her cat-like eyes.  

The mother-son resemblance was uncanny, especially seeing the two together. 

He was meeting San’s mother. 

It was crazy to him. 

“Sannie!” She exclaimed. She had a friendly smile. It was warm—comforting. 

San hugged her, a smile splitting his own face, eyes closed. Wooyoung once again felt like he was intruding, but this time it was something special, something he should be far away from, in the confines of his chambers. For the hundredth time, he didn’t belong here. 

They broke apart. 

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon!” She said. Her voice was also deeper than Wooyoung expected. It was almost intimidating coming from her slight frame. She didn’t meet any of Wooyoung’s expectations- not in a bad way- and the more he thought about it, he realized neither had San when they first met. It must run in the family. 

Wooyoung looked down at his feet as they talked. In a world where everything was about him, where he had to stand tall, imposing, this was entirely new to him. Now, it was all San. 

San’s mother spotted him then. She cocked her head to the side, and Wooyoung gulped. With a pat to San’s shoulder, Wooyoung’s heart rate picked up as she walked over to him. She was an entire head shorter than him, and for a split second, he wondered how San had the audacity to call him short when his mother was…

“Who are you?” she asked, and Wooyoung made quick eye contact with San over her shoulder, a silent plea for help. 

“This is, uh, Young-ah,” San came up behind her, and Wooyoung found himself staring at two Chois. 

And then it registered.  

Young-ah? Really? 

“He’s a friend I met in the castle,” San continued. “He offered to keep me safe for the trip.” 

San’s mother turned to look at him, an incredulous look on her face. “You? Friends?” 

A snort escaped Wooyoung, and San gasped with a sharp “Mum!” 

She sniggered, and suddenly she didn’t seem as intimidating as Wooyoung initially thought. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Choi,” Wooyoung said. 

“Please, call me Nala,” she replied. “And no need to be so formal. A friend of San’s is a friend of mine.” 

Wooyoung nodded. 

“And thank you for keeping him out of trouble.” She eyed the chainmail and the sword and cast San a questioning glance. “...Young-ah? Was it?” 

While she was turned away, Wooyoung gave San an exasperated look. Of course, San would choose ‘Young-ah’ of all names. It’s not like that’s too obvious or anything. 

Once again, he wished they actually took the time to think this through. 

“Yes, that’s him, haha.” 

Very convincing, San. 

Nala smiled faintly. “Okay then. You’re lucky I have extra supplies for food tonight.” Wooyoung could feel San’s enthusiasm like a tangible thing at the mention of her cooking, and he had to fight a smile off his own lips. “In the meantime,” she said. “I think the lil babes of Balor will be thrilled to see you.” 

Huh? 

That took Wooyoung slightly aback, but San seemed to know exactly what was coming. He brought a hand to his face and groaned. It did nothing to hide his smile, his dimples peeking through his fingers. “Where are they, then?” 

“I’m sure you’ll hear them when they find out you’re here,” Nala said. 

“It’s not like it’s a secret. We walked right through the village.” 

“Then they’ll come by soon,” she said. “Sending you off made me really unpopular with them. I’ve had to deal with their whining for the past few months.” 

“Do you want me to say sorry?” San asked. 

Nala shrugged. “That would be nice.” 

San pursed his lips together, and Wooyoung felt lost. This entire conversation was going right over his head and into the streets behind him. Carla knickered next to him, and he focused on patting her muzzle, running a hand through her mane, the reigns to San’s horse hooked loosely through his arm. 

The distraction was nice, and he didn’t feel like he was eavesdropping anymore. His earlier worries began to settle slightly as San and Nala continued to chat. He could function again. 

That is, he could until the screaming started. 

San’s head shot up, a half-smile on his face, and he broke away from them, hurrying over to a large group of children on the path behind them. 

Wooyoung watched in slight horror as they tackled him, throwing snow in his hair and squealing his name in a chorus of San. He fell to the ground with a loud “Oof!” and slightly shocked, Wooyoung brought a hand to his mouth and laughed. It was definitely strange, seeing San like this. He looked so happy. His dimples were out in full force, and Wooyoung could hear his laugh go unrestrained. 

Wooyoung had never heard San laugh this much, this loud. It was contagious, and Wooyoung couldn’t help but smile along, a new warmth filling him. 

San was so happy here. 

He couldn’t take his eyes off of him, his breathing unsteady with puffs of silent laughter. 

He felt a familiar sharp jab in his side, and he broke his gaze, turning his head to see Nala. San’s odd habit of randomly poking him suddenly made a lot of sense. 

“You’re really fond of him,” she said. 

Wooyoung jolted back, shocked out of his stupor. “Um, no?” 

She shook her head. “I can see it in your eyes,” she said. “Don’t worry, he has that effect on people.” 

“He does?” 

She nodded back to the kids. “See for yourself. They love him too.” 

Love.

Wooyoung did not love San. 

He almost broke into laughter again. They were friends, for sure, and Wooyoung traveled all this way to keep San safe, but there was a firm line between whatever feelings he had and love. He had not crossed it, and he never will. He couldn’t afford to. 

But looking at San now, he knew it would be easy to. 

“He’ll be busy for a while,” Nala said. “Let’s get the horses settled, and hopefully they’ll be done by then, though I doubt it.”  

Wooyoung nodded and let her lead the way. 

Warming up to Nala was an… experience. She held so many quirks that Wooyoung had grown to know as uniquely San, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t mess with his head. 

After the horses were secured, Nala took him back to her home. San was nowhere to be seen. Wooyoung would have been worried if Nala didn’t look so calm about it. 

“I doubt he’ll be back for another hour,” she said, and Wooyoung fought the urge to get up and start pacing. They were in the kitchen, and Nala was getting ready to cook their dinner. “Why don’t you get some rest? San will be here when you wake, and the food will be ready by then, too.” 

Wooyoung glanced over her shoulder at the pot, and he looked at the door. 

He thought about a happy San, talking about his mother’s cooking.

Bad idea. Great idea.  

“Actually, um, can you teach me?” 

.

There was no way Wooyoung was going to remember all of this, but he tried. He tried his best. 

The entire time, he worried San would walk through the door and catch him in the act, like learning to cook was some scandalous thing. It was for him, though. San would tease him relentlessly. 

Nala was an understanding and patient teacher, but underneath it all, Wooyoung could feel her slight frustration. He couldn’t fault her, though. He was terrible. 

Thankfully, the door stayed shut until it was finished. 

San looked like the walking dead when he came in. His hair stood up in spikes, and he had the most unenthused pout on his lips. Wooyoung wanted to wipe it away. 

He all but collapsed at the table, and Wooyoung sat beside him without a word. 

A silent San was a tired San, and Wooyoung could laugh at his hair at a different time. 

Nala placed a bowl in front of him, and the reaction was immediate. The smile on his face was blinding, and Wooyoung suddenly knew he’d be spending a lot of time in the kitchen this week. 

The food was excellent. It was amazing. Somehow, even with Wooyoung’s blunders, Nala had made the best stew he had ever tasted, and that was a high compliment coming from the Crown Prince of Sinsu. 

San and Nala were talking, but Wooyoung completely spaced out. God, San really wasn’t kidding about her cooking, wasn’t he? Every bite left him wanting more until he was scraping at the bottom and sheepishly looking over to find both Chois not even halfway done. It would have been embarrassing if the food wasn’t so phenomenal. 

He gave himself another helping and tuned back into their conversation, smiling at the topic change. 

“So, San, according to your letters, you’re working for the Prince now?” 

“Yep. Unfortunately,” San answered with a mouth full of food. 

Wooyoung scoffed. 

“What’s he like? The Prince?” Nala asked. 

Oh? This was going to be interesting. Wooyoung leaned forward. He propped an elbow on the table and rested his chin on his hand, leering over at San. 

“Yeah, San. What’s the Prince like?” Wooyoung repeated the question. “I hear he’s dashing.” 

San snorted and shoved at Wooyoung’s side. “He’s a brat.” 

Wooyoung gasped theatrically. “He’s a heartthrob. A few of the maids would kill for your job.” He felt San kick him from under the table, and he frowned at the dull ache it felt behind. 

“He’s very…” San took a second to think. “He’s very hard to describe.” 

Nala watched them with a glint in her eye. “Indulge me. Are the stories true?”

Wooyoung perked up. “Stories?” 

But San shook his head frantically. “No.” He shoved Wooyoung again. “We aren’t talking about that now.” 

Nala grinned. “But they’re saying it’s happening,” she said. “There have been miracles happening, San. It’s magic.” 

Oh. The magic thing. 

He didn’t want to think about it. He never wanted to think about it. That was a whole other world of pressure that Wooyoung didn’t want to put himself under. It was something he didn’t understand, something he couldn’t even contemplate. 

Him. Bringing magic back. 

Unthinkable. 

“Are you sure?” San asked, and he glanced nervously over at Wooyoung. “Maybe it’s just coincidence.” 

“San… the village crop doubled in the stores last night,” Nala said. “Your Prince must be doing wonders.” 

“He’s really not, though.” An edge of doubt burrowed its way into his voice, and San shifted. “At least, I don’t think he is.” 

Nala shook her head. “There’s something special going on, San, and I’m so proud you’ll get to see it firsthand.” 

Despite the uncertainty of it all, he smiled. 

.

Wooyoung realized there was something San forgot to mention—there was only one spare mattress. 

Nala offered to give up her bed, but there was no way they’d agree to that, not with her hospitality and warm welcome. 

Which left them the mattress. 

And the bedrolls, too, but Wooyoung left those back with the horses, and no one had the energy to make the trek back to the stables at this time of night. 

They would have to share.

Lord have mercy, 

After pulling Wooyoung’s top over his head, San wouldn’t look him in the eye. It was a cemented part of their routine. It was normal. 

But now that San wasn’t leaving, it didn’t feel normal. 

San changed into a thin undershirt while Wooyoung went to grab a large blanket that would cover both of them. Fuck, this was real. This was happening. 

He walked over and laid on his back, waiting for San to come take his place too. He tucked the blanket under his chin and ignored the nerves that were going to make sleep impossible.  

San joined him not long after, on his back too. They didn’t speak. 

The heat from San’s body radiated off him in waves, enclosed beneath the blanket. He was close. Too close. 

After a few minutes, San reached over and laced their fingers together, palm against palm, and Wooyoung was sinking, sinking, sinking.

With that simple touch, Wooyoung didn’t think he’d ever resurface. 

But he also wanted more. 

Wooyoung looked over his shoulder, and he hesitated before tugging the blanket aside and rolling over, wrapping an arm snug around San’s waist. He laid his head on San’s chest, wondering what the hell he’d just done.

San let out a small whimper, and Wooyoung tightened his grip. “It’s cold,” he mumbled. He could hear, feel, San’s heartbeat beneath him. It pulled him in. It sped, and it sped, and San’s hand was still in his, and he couldn’t stop. He could get addicted to this. He was addicted. This was a horrible, horrible idea. 

“You’re… cold?” San said into his hair. “Mmm, I think you’re just touch starved.” 

And he was right. Each point of contact made him burn. It made his own heart race at the rate of San’s. He needed to stop. He needed more. 

 He needed to say something. 

“M’not touch starved. Not with you hanging on me all the time.” The early mornings. His worst nights. San was always there with a hand on his back. 

San hummed, and Wooyoung could feel it against his chest. 

“Okay… then do you know why I touch you so much?” San asked. 

No, I don’t.  

“Because you’re an ass who won’t respect royal boundaries?” 

San chuckled. Wooyoung was going to combust. He squeezed his eyes shut, but that only made him focus more on the warmth below him. 

“That too, but it’s because I know you like it.” 

Wooyoung snorted. “You’re delusional.” He was lying through his teeth. He was a terrible liar. 

“Hey, you’re the one who climbed over me,” San said. “If you’re going to be like that, I could just…” San let go of his hand and abruptly sat up on his elbows. The sudden movement unbalanced Wooyoung and made him fall onto his back with a yelp, and the loss of San was so sudden. The air suddenly felt frigid. 

Wooyoung glared at him, and he contemplated whether he was going insane before attempting to push San back down onto the mattress, a hand flat on his chest. 

“Come on.” 

“Only if you say ‘please.’”

Wooyoung stared at him and cursed what little pride he had left wherever San was concerned. Princes couldn’t… he couldn’t beg.. “That’s not happening.” He met San’s eyes, and he was gone. 

“I’ll get you to say it one day,” San said, and damn him, his smirk was so smug. “When you least expect it.” 

Wooyoung could feel how flushed his face was, how helpless he was. “I-I order you to-” 

“You can’t do that here,” San cut him off. “Young-ah.” 

Just like that, all the power Wooyoung ever had over San vanished. It scared him. It thrilled him. 

With a huff, he fell back and turned away from San. “Your loss,” he mumbled, and he could feel San’s gaze lingering on him. He curled into himself, trying his best to ignore it. 

He had all week, after all. 

.

Balor was a paradise. 

He didn’t have to pretend here, and he used that to his full advantage. 

Now, he wasn’t ‘Prince Wooyoung.’ He was just Wooyoung. He didn’t have to worry about responsibilities or maintaining reputation. He didn’t have to keep San behind him as they walked. No one looked at him like he was a god. He was a simple, common man. For a week, he could forget everything and just enjoy life the way everyone else could. 

Hell, he could hurl snowballs at San’s face, and the villagers wouldn’t even bat an eye. He could talk to merchants, antagonize San in public, walk around without scratchy noble clothing, yell at the top of his lungs- he could be human. 

He felt like he was discovering a whole new world. 

He was happy. 

San knew it, too. There was a certain sparkle in San’s eyes when he looked at him now. Wooyoung thought he was imagining it the first time he saw it, but no, it was there.  

The next night, Wooyoung found himself wrapped in San’s arms, San’s chest flush to his back. He didn’t even have to ask. He just laid down, and San was there. Wooyoung was going to die happy, all because this damn serving boy decided to slam into his life. 

Something clearly changed with San, but it was a welcome one. 

Nala’s birthday was wonderful. They all went on a picnic in the woods. Wooyoung offered to give them privacy—he could go entertain himself elsewhere, but Nala wouldn’t have it. It was cold, but they had a fire and each other’s company to keep warm. The hot food helped as well, and Wooyoung could happily mark it as one of the best experiences of his life. 

He grew close to Nala as well. Around dinnertime, San always went out to play with the children, which was perfect for Wooyoung’s cooking lessons. He was getting better, too! He had finally learned the terminology Nala used when referring to certain items, and Wooyoung could confidently say he could cook a solid meal by the end of the week. He didn’t know when he’d ever get the chance to, though. Someday, he hoped. 

But the nights were what he looked forward to now, and when Nala caught them on the floor one time, she only smiled over at them and closed the door. 

Nala was the mother he never had. 

Saying goodbye was probably one of the worst experiences of his life, even more so knowing that he’d probably never see her again. 

The horses were all packed, and at this point, they were all stalling the inevitable. 

Nala clasped her hands around his and smiled. “You have great things ahead, Young-ah. I hope you won’t forget me.” 

Wooyoung shook his head. “I want to stay,” he said in a small voice, the longing etched in his face. He looked over at San. “What if we stay?” 

Nala smiled, but there was a serious tone to her voice. “You have a kingdom to look after, Young-ah. I’m afraid that doesn’t involve puttering around my kitchen.” 

Wooyoung’s eyes went comically wide, and he stared at her. 

“Get that look off your face. I’m not an idiot.” She flicked his forehead. “I may be ignorant to a lot of the outside world,” she said. “But I can put two and two together, Prince Wooyoung.” 

With the eloquence of a fully realized prince, he said, “Oh.” 

Nala rolled her eyes with a smile and pulled him into a tight hug. “Take care of Sannie, will you? He tends to get himself in a lot of trouble.” 

“Of course.” 

She pulled away, and with a sad smile, she turned away to look at San. 

Wooyoung backed away and let San say goodbye alone. He went to the horses, silently brushing his fingers against Carla’s snout. He understood why San loved this place. It was only a week, yet Wooyoung felt more at home here than he ever did at the castle. He genuinely didn’t want to go back. He wanted to stay here and live with San and Nala. He wanted the children to fall over him like they did with San. He wanted to greet the merchants every day, to learn their names and build friendships. 

He wanted to build a life here. 

San stepped up next to him while he was lost in his thoughts, and his sudden presence startled him. Wooyoung jolted back slightly and turned to look at him. 

San’s ears were bright red, too red to blame the cold for it. Slightly taken aback, Wooyoung spoke. 

“What did she say to you?” 

San shook his head. “Nothing. It was nothing,” he said, but if anything, the flush spread to his cheeks. Wooyoung rarely saw San this flustered, so he took in every detail and committed it to memory- his last memory of this magical place. 

He smiled. “Are you sure about that?” 

San stared at him. “You, ah, you didn’t hear any of it, right?” 

“No?” 

San looked down with a small smile. “Good.” 

They mounted their horses, and with one last wave, Wooyoung’s time in Balor came to an end. 

.

The journey back was dreadful. 

They both would be lying if they said they didn't stretch it out. It took two nights to get back instead of one, and the breaks were far more frequent than they needed to be. A lot of it was spent in silence, mulling over a fabricated excuse for their absence, and the rest was spent reminiscing about their week. 

On the second night, San laid their bedrolls side by side instead of across the fire. Wooyoung’s head was on his chest again, except San wasn’t pushing him away this time. It hit him that they wouldn’t be able to do this in the castle. This was the last time. 

Once again, he longed to be back in Balor. He couldn’t even imagine how San felt right now. 

If San ever wanted to leave Sinsu, Wooyoung didn’t know if he could let him. He at least wanted San to know it was an option, though. He didn’t want San to stay against his will. 

Wooyoung shook his head. This conversation was overdue, these thoughts brewing in his head for the longest time. 

“Do you really think my father would kill you if you quit?” His words spilt out into the open air, spiraling. 

San was quiet for a moment. The sudden question probably surprised him, and Wooyoung clutched at his shirt, waiting for his reply. “Do you really want my answer to that?” 

“Yes.”  

San sighed, and he rubbed circles into Wooyoung’s back. “After a month of seeing that execution block every day, I think your father would kill someone for looking at him funny.” 

Wooyoung winced. 

He could understand that. He did understand that, and if he was being honest with himself, he would probably agree. 

“At least the servants are a little more safe,” Wooyoung whispered. Over the past month, he had worked with a few of the more agreeable lords, and they settled into a backdoor law, one not upheld by the court, but known by those that mattered. It was difficult, and the progress was painstakingly slow, but it was all he could do. 

San made a soft noise of contentment. “That’s why I believe you’ll be a great King, Wooyoung,” he said. “You’re good.” 

“I’m his son.” 

“So? That may be true, but you are your own person, Woo. You can make your own decisions” 

They settled back into silence. San’s words rung in his head, and he took a second to think them over, to really ingest them. 

Because it was exactly what he needed to hear. 

“I wouldn’t let him, you know,” Wooyoung said. “If you wanted to leave… you could.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

Wooyoung buried his face into San’s neck, and he committed this to memory too. 

.

Eventually, on the third day, they could see the castle looming in the distance.

 “I guess this is it,” Wooyoung said. 

“Break’s over. Back to cleaning floors,” San answered. 

“You never cleaned them in the first place.” 

San laughed. “Let’s get this over with.” 

They made the last of the trek in silence, and the front gates were suddenly right there. They were really, truly back. 

He thought it would be a smooth return- nice and inconspicuous. That is, until a guard stepped in front of their horses. 

“The King wishes to speak with you, sire. My orders are to bring you to him upon your arrival,” he called out.  

And just like that, it was over. Wooyoung’s back straightened, his eyes narrowed, and San drifted behind him. Much like winter, the weight that settled on his shoulders was merciless. 

Princes were supposed to be cold. They were supposed to be beautiful, like snowflakes trapped in the wind. 

All good things must come to an end, and after having a taste of the perfect life, the guard’s words brought him back to reality. The past week already felt like a lifetime ago. 

He clenched at the reins of his horse, a feeling of nervous anticipation growing in his stomach, and he knew that whatever was in store for him was not going to be pretty. It would be okay, though. As long as San was there for the aftermath, everything was going to be okay.