The palace was high upon the hill overlooking the kingdom, it's many pointed towers giving it the look of an eccentric crown. The walls were a white stone that glistened in the summer sun and the roof was grey slate. It was as big as twenty of the ordinary houses of the town and employed a good number of the townsfolk as servants. Around the palace were the horse pastures and gardens for the royal family, and around that was a stone wall topped with iron spikes which was guarded day and night.

Prince Seokjin had never been out of the palace or it's grounds. For him all floors were marble, what else would they be? All stair rails were ornate mahogany, carved and polished so that it shined. Family portraits were painted in oils and hung in gold frames. Furniture was all handmade by master craftsmen, no expense spared.

Nothing ever got dirty, most definitely not. Seokjin had never once seen dust in his twenty six years of life, well maybe in the library when Namjoon was sorting through the older pieces of parchment and books but certainly not in the main part of the palace.

The air was scented with fresh flowers every day of the year, yet he had never seen a flower ever die or wilt. Food was always perfect and served precisely on time, but he had never seen a kitchen.
Each room was as big as a three bedroom apartment and came equipped with an intercom system in case he should need to call for service.Yet Seokjin never took this for granted, he was raised to respect everyone within the kingdom no matter their station. It was something his father had instilled upon not just himself but also his six younger brothers.

A King is nothing if he doesn't have the love and devotion of his people.

It's a saying his father repeated daily, constantly reminding Seokjin that just because he's lucky enough to reside inside the lavish palace walls that doesn't make him superior to those who live outside them. This is why his father had the love, admiration and respect of the people and also why his reign continued to be without incident. Seokjin was next in line for the throne and hoped once his father passed peacefully from this world to whatever lay beyond he would garner that same adoration.  

Seokjin's POV

The blossom arrives like cake frosting on the trees in delicious creams and pinks. The petals burst out from lower down the branches leaving the tips still in tight bud.
After the denuded trees of winter their new and splendid clothes are a joy to see.
Though the calendar says it's winter for a few weeks yet, the trees tell me it's spring.
In a few more weeks those petals, those perfect silky hearts, will flutter down as gentle rain.

The lazy wind pushes against the grass like a child sending dandelion seeds on their way: one o'clock, two o'clock, three.
My pocket watch says it's near noon, my father most likely waiting for me to arrive at the throne room. It's a very important day within the palace, it's the day my father assigns myself and my six brothers with our annual duties to the kingdom. Last year my role was to safeguard the gateway, the portal between our world and the mortal one. I enjoyed the challenge this role provided and the honour which came along with it, I prayed my father would bestow this honour upon me for a second year.

I took one last look at my favourite part of the palace grounds and headed inside.

The palace had exquisite architecture, my father had enlisted the finest craftsman.
He knew his ideas, although perhaps common where he came from, would be sufficiently exotic enough to inspire awe in the populous. And so instead of the peaks in the roof, he had gold domed towers instead. He had an open porch at the front held up with most ostentatiously detailed pillars, painted in brilliant white.
Inside there were no doors on the ground floor, only arches. The flagstone floor was made with a stone of soft blue hues that had never before been seen in this part of the kingdom.

I gathered myself outside the huge doors which led to the throne room, taking a deep breath. Whatever role my father is gracious enough to bestow upon me I shall gladly accept. I push open the doors, eyes falling across my six brothers who were already standing opposite the throne where my father sat. 

The chair was carved of a fine oak, crested with several jewels and decorative metals forming an elegant coat of arms. My father dressed in his elegant yet more basic attire, long slender fingers running over the throne arms.

"You're late my son, what took you so long?"