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ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ ♕ ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

┗━━ 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰'𝓼 𝓟𝓞𝓥 ━━┛

The morning came with an abrupt wake up call, sending the entire castle into disarray. The curtains were parted, the shutters open, the bed linens alight with the shine of the morning sun as patterns and shadows danced across the wooden bed posts, gleaming with a yellow sheen. The room was lowly lit, save for the windows that the Prince had allowed to remain open, embracing the breeze that flowed inwards to cool down the room from the summer's usual heat.

Etheria, as it was known, held an unruly hot weather pattern for the summer, engulfing the kingdom in a wave of heat that all of its citizens nearly fainted to. Tree cover and mere hand-held fans were never enough to save off the weather, as most of the common folk moved their focus onto cool water, trying to keep their bodies from overheating.

The castle and those who worked within it, graciously had the cover of thick stone to ward off such heat, finding the interior of such a home rather cool in the ravenous summer weather. Wooyoung, heir to the throne, Prince of Etheria, didn't mind the heat. He rather welcomed it, wanting to stay far away from the cold cusp of winter, disliking the frost that would accumulate on stained glass and chill the iron handles, making staying warm a much more difficult feat, especially since they always needed to import more pelts to even make it through the winter.

Now, as he stood in front of his open windows, he found himself staring out into the valley, listening to the vague bustle of the community beyond the threshold of the castle's boundary wall, welcoming the subtle quiet that came with observing the kingdom like this. It was a rare feat, to stand and enjoy such calamity, even when the entire castle itself had been outrageously loud for the past hour or so. It felt nearly inescapable to ignore the pleas and conversations of those who worked beneath him, trying to prepare for the upcoming party that would arrive in a few days' time.

A ball, as it was called, would be held to entice suitors into adventuring into Etheria, making their appearance in court to try and woo the Prince off of his feet. Though, Wooyoung was hardly impressed. He didn't fancy entertaining such a love, especially something arranged and motivated by the likes of someone seeking fame and power, let alone a fortune to help forge a new alliance. He wasn't incredibly keen on even attending the ball itself, wanting to stick to the solitude of his vast library and the likes of his pet cat, gluing himself to his comforter and enjoying the true depth of quiet that came with beckoning an order to demand tranquility.

He was never truly alone, however. His guards were always close by, switched out every few hours, on an abysmal rotation, landing Wooyoung with constant protection and annoying social interaction. His guards, as much as he respected them for their undivided loyalty, were really the only people he spoke to outside of his court, making them really his only friends in a world that was beyond lonely. His mother was always making a fuss about his lack of presence within the castle itself, claiming that he needed to be more forthcoming, to demand attention and act as the Heir to the throne, not so much as the hermit that lives within the confines of his own chambers.

Wooyoung could care less, truly. He wasn't here to impress anyone, nor did he seek the validation of anyone but himself. He knew what was asked of him, and he knew more than anything else, what his father's final wishes were for him. He knew his mother just simply cared about him, cared about their future, and somewhat cared about the future of the kingdom itself. But all of this talking, all of the preparation and all of the pleas for Wooyoung to just come out of his room; it was beyond exhausting.

So, to put it plainly, to relish in such quiet, to find a single moment in the morning where he could just be by himself and truly take in the grandeur of his kingdom; to say that he enjoyed every single second of it was a mere understatement.

The world seemed calm, if just for now. The morning was warm and slightly tranquil, met with the faint shouts and commands of the workers here within the castle walls, but beyond all of the noise was a certain serenity; a call to a more silent day, though Wooyoung feared that it would all be ruined by the obnoxious demands of his own mother.

To his dismay, he hears the ring of a few knocks against the oak of his door, which was a preceding sound that came before the click of the door actually opening. Wooyoung turns, still adorned in his nightwear, ruffling a hand through the long locks of his ebony tresses. His eyes greet the sight of his royal guard, dressed in their day-to-day armor, wearing the emblem of the kingdom against their chest. Wooyoung smiles, rolling his eyes as the knight further trudges into the room, a smirk now pulling at his lips as their eyes meet, which had been a usual reaction that they pulled from one another.

"My Prince," he greets, bowing his head slightly, his hand resting on the butt of his sword.

"Sir San," Wooyoung greets back, pausing in his steps, raising his head slightly as he eyes his knight from head to toe, wetting his lips before speaking again. "What's the problem now? Is there a reason you came to disturb my morning of peace?"

"You know I mean no harm, your majesty. I rather come to inform you of your mother's incessant wishes, which have already begun to spiral out of control this morning."

"It's barely even at the sun's peak, and she wishes to irritate me already?" Wooyoung scoffs, folding his arms against his chest. "What do they consist of now?"

"The usual," San comments, gesturing idly with his hand. "Morning attire, plans for the arrival in terms of those who seek to wed you, while also complaining about the pets you've allowed us to keep in our quarters."

"Ah, the dramatics," Wooyoung says with a breath, shaking his head. "I have barely been awake for more than an hour and she's already lost it. I cannot quite understand why the universe left me to deal with her, rather than the likes of my own father. She is quite irritating almost every moment that she dares to be awake."

"Why do you think I have come to abandon my family line?" San asks, a smile curving on his lips. "They only ever referred to me as a bastard, so I rather chose to give them what they wanted; the life without a son."

"You know, your past sounds quite horrible the more you speak of it," Wooyoung explains, but San merely says nothing, giving a slight shrug to his shoulders. "I'm serious. You worry me."

"There's nothing to be worried for, my Prince. You know that I am plenty capable of watching out for myself, yes?"

"Yes, I do know that," Wooyoung attests, pausing his sentiment, trying to gather the courage to speak the words that were settled on the edge of his tongue. "That does not quite mean that I cannot worry. I know of your past, and I know of how you handle yourself when you're not on watch. Do not think that for even a moment that I am blind to your behaviors, San."

"I know that you are always watching," San admits. "Your eyes are everywhere, even to those who are faithful to you."

"Can you blame me?" Wooyoung asks, raising a brow. "Someone within this castle poisoned my father all those months ago, and I fear that they have not executed the right man."

"You seem lost in this ideal," San expresses softly, taking a step closer. "You have always gone on in this scripture that your father was poisoned, though we have no true evidence of his decline. Did he not have the plague, my Prince? Was it not a flu that killed him off?"

Wooyoung turns around, walking towards his open window again. The truth was, he couldn't be completely sure of the reasons surrounding his father's death. It was true, his father had declined quite a bit over the course of a few months' time, but for his age and for the sudden onset of such an illness, it all didn't make much sense to Wooyoung at the time. Even now, having executed a member of his father's council in the wake of such allegations, there still was an uneasy part of Wooyoung that struggled to believe that the terror was over.

He hardly drank wine, in fear that someone would be out to poison his drink, given that his father was notorious for his love of wine and the craftsmanship behind it. Wooyoung barely ate around anyone else but his mother, only trusting the cook within the castle to make his meals under the supervision of one of his guards. It was horrible to live in such a manner, but even still, Wooyoung couldn't find himself to part from it.

"We cannot be certain," Wooyoung finally answers, his voice a cent lower, too hesitant on being completely honest. "I trust you more than I trust anyone, as we. . . have shared too much with one another. I trust all of my knights completely, otherwise I wouldn't have chosen them to be a part of my royal guard, but San, there's a reason I come to you with these things. An instinct to cling to you, finding that your honesty never wavers. Tell me, why is that?"

"I think you know the answer to that, my Prince."

"Please, spare me the formalities," Wooyoung breathes out, his tone coming off a little more irritated than he desired for it to be. He turns around, his arms still folded to his chest, his hands now cupping his arms in a near-defensive gesture. "San, what we have shared, here in my chambers, amongst the cusp of midnight, alone and without the eyes of anyone else; we both know that we have a certain trust with one another, but I must know how you feel. I want the truth."

"Listen, Wooyoung–" San pauses, glancing down, his words seemingly failing him.

"Please," Wooyoung steps closer, trying to meet San's gaze. "I do not care for formalities; I am not my father. Just because I am to be married to some stranger does not mean that I do not care for you."

"My Prince–" A voice calls out from his ajar chamber door, causing Wooyoung to step back, looking beyond San's frame and towards the noise from where the interruption occurred. "It's urgent, I'm afraid. Your mother seeks your counsel in the throne room."

Wooyoung offers a nod, hiding the disgruntled sigh that he nearly has to swallow back. "Thank you, Sir Hyunjin. I will make my leave in a moment."

Hyunjin nods, offering a polite smile before he exits the room, closing the door behind him.

"Another time," Wooyoung concedes, wetting his lips, watching as San's gaze flicks up to meet his own once more. "Meet me here, at our usual time. Do not be late."

"Mingyu won't let me off my post, Wooyoung. You know of this."

"I will pay him double," Wooyoung mutters, taking a breath. "Send him to me and I will handle it, San. Just be here. . . please."

San nods, taking a step back, trying to remain platonically distant, though the electricity that flowed from the tension bestowed between them seemed anything but just that.

"I will do my best, my Prince."

"I know you will," Wooyoung replies softly, glancing at his door. "Make your leave; I need to dress before I see my mother. Send the maids in, please."

"Of course," San replies, bowing his head respectfully before turning on his heel, trekking towards the door without preparing to usher another word. Just as Wooyoung began to turn around himself, he heard San's steps suddenly pause, causing his own to pause as well, hoping that he'd turn around, just in the way he always had.

"Wooyoung?" San begins, turning slightly, just enough to glance over his shoulder. "I do care about you. I do not want that to go unsaid."

"Then speak the truth," Wooyoung replies, brushing a strand of his hair back. "Fear not of how I may react, and just speak plainly, Sir San. If you care for me, please do not treat me as if I am but a fragile person. My father's death is untimely, and the weight of the world feels to be upon my shoulders, but I am not weak. I am me, and that is humbly enough."

"Yes, your grace." San bows his head, almost in apology before he exits the room, the door softly closing behind him.

With a breath, Wooyoung turns back to his window, placing his hands delicately against its wooden frame. He rolls his eyes at himself, glued into a mindset somewhere near a place of irritation, but he finds himself questioning the true root of why he was actually frustrated to begin with.

San was a unique character within Wooyoung's life, someone who started as a mere soldier, sworn to protect the heir to the throne. Over time, Wooyoung found himself growing closer to each of his knights, knowing that it was better off to have some sort of a relationship with the men who vowed to protect him. He supposes that if he were to have no friends outside of this court, he might as well befriend the ones he'd see the most.

There was Hwang Hyunjin, who was very kind to Wooyoung, as he always had been. But, on the outside, to the men he trained and served with, he was cold as ice. He was well known for his ability to train animals, as he had a hand in taming beasts known as dire wolves. Under Wooyoung's protection, Hyunjin acquired two dire wolf pups, not of the same litter, but found in similar circumstances, who were now full-grown adults and apparent mates. Fenrir was a black wolf with golden eyes, who had been larger than his female counterpart, driven with a fierce loyalty to Hyunjin himself. Artemis, his mate, was sable in color, her coat laced with hues of gray, brown and cream, while her eyes radiated a myriad of oranges and greens. They were kind within the confines of the castle, but in the outdoors, sent away on hunting tasks, their true nature became of them, reiterating the knowledge that they were truly beasts.

Kim Mingyu, the eldest of his knights, was a quieter male, one who often observed more than he conversed. He was fiercely protective of the throne, as he served beneath the previous king, loyally sworn in as the crown's highest ranking knight. He still withheld the same title, though he saw to much more mediocre tasks. He trained the military, scolding the infantry and getting their army up to par, to match that of their reputation. The crown couldn't be seen as weak, and Mingyu was deathly loyal to that ideal. Mingyu, from Wooyoung's perspective, kept the other knights in line, especially when they got unruly at the local tavern.

Song Mingi, the most stubborn of the knights, always personally sought to take care of the night shift. From what Wooyoung could tell, he was close with San, but he wasn't sure of what the relationship was there. Childhood friends, brothers in arms, maybe even just sharing some similar interests. He couldn't tell, as Mingi was always quite difficult to read into some days.

Lastly, there was Lee Minho, who was likely the strongest of the knights. Wooyoung had known Minho for quite some time leading up to this role switch between the both of them, acting as childhood best friends with the boy that happened to be the son of his father's previous advisor. Minho didn't wish to seek a path of renowned legacy, to be something worthy of a title; he rather sought to fight in battles and to claim a higher vow of dignity, making his own path without the pressure of living up to his father's name. Acting as the captain of the infantry, Minho provided insight to the entire operation as a whole, paired with a companion that Hyunjin helped tame; a red-tailed hawk by the name of Aries. The bird, as inquisitive as it could be at times, was what Wooyoung referred to as a brat. He only ever listened to Minho, but played a delicate role in keeping the castle free of mice.

Vaguely, he could hear the voices of Hyunjin and San still outside of his closed chamber doors, as he assumed they would accompany him to the meeting with his disgruntled mother. He wasn't quite sure what she deemed as urgent, but for whatever it may be, Wooyoung was sure that it likely held nothing of importance to be discussed.

The doors swing open abruptly, but Wooyoung doesn't turn. He rather waits by the window, listening as the maids shuffle in, one by one, chatting amongst themselves with whatever ensemble Wooyoung would be forced to wear today.

"Here, your grace, your garments have been prepared. Your mother requested you wear red, today–"

"Red?" Wooyoung raises a brow, turning around to face the maid in question. Ji-soo, the eldest of his maids, and also the kindest, softened her expression, nodding solemnly. "Why must it always be red?"

"It is the color of our kingdom, your grace," Ji-soo replies, smiling small, gesturing towards the red and gold ensemble that the other maids held. "The color is a statement, a rather regal hue that strikes the eye and tells of royalty."

"I get it, Ji-soo, I am a Prince, after all. Does my mother know nothing of my own taste? Has she no idea of how much I hate when she dictates what I wear?"

"You know better than to assume as much," Ji-soo comments, her tone suddenly firm. "I am not knowledgeable as to why she seeks to control you like this, but I would hope that it stems from her concern for you."

"Concern or not, I am her only son. I have my own thoughts and feelings, my own expressions and dislikes," Wooyoung expresses, stepping closer, his eyes trailing down the simple intricacies of the garment itself. "I am not a little boy. I am heir to the throne, and she should treat me as such."

"You may be heir to the throne, my Prince, but you are her son, and she is mother to the crown. Respect comes as it is earned. You would be wise to watch your tongue."

Wooyoung sighed, nodding his head, taking in Ji-soo's words as earnestly as he could. He knew Ji-soo was only trying to give such advice from the kindness of her heart, as she has worked beneath his parents for many years. But, in being so averse to his mother's actions, Wooyoung knew far too well what trouble he could get himself into.

His mother was quite demanding along with being the most strict person he's ever come to know, but he knew better than to take her for granted. He had lost his father in such a rash means, unable to comprehend how his life was so carelessly cut short. Now, having only one parent left, Wooyoung finds himself treading a fine line, delicately trying to piece together a reality where he went against his parent's wishes completely, versus the one where he acted as the doting son, completing his father's plea of marrying wise, bringing more fortune and prosperity to their kingdom as a whole. Deep down, Wooyoung wasn't sure what he wanted. His heart was a messily, strung together object within a chest buried deep beneath shore, and he wasn't entirely sure on how to fix it.

"You know I mean no harm in my words," Wooyoung tries to explain. "I just. . . wish for more freedom. I am the Prince of Etheria, and yet I feel as if I am chained to my title and glued to the wishes of my own mother."

"I understand, my Prince. But the time is not now to relish in such hardships. It is time to be strong, to face your mother proudly, and to do what is necessary for the kingdom and its people."

Wooyoung hesitates, lingering in the space before her with words that felt too difficult to express. Truth be told, he didn't want to get married. The entire idea of having to pick someone from a list of suitors, to barely have a choice in who he wished to spend his days with, let alone share his heart with, was incredibly unappealing. His mother was gracious enough to allow him the chance to choose in who he'd marry, but even still, Wooyoung didn't wish for this. He knew it was his role in life, to take the throne and to marry in the way his father wanted him to, but it couldn't have been farther from what he wanted.

Not to mention, there was something, rather some one, who had claimed his heart, making this decision even more precariously difficult than it had been in the last three months.

"Now, get dressed. Your mother will likely be angry if she waits any longer."

"Yes, of course, Ji-soo. Thank you," Wooyoung says, smiling small, yet he could feel that the smile hadn't quite reached his eyes.

As the maids make their leave, Wooyoung inspects the garments with a more steady gaze, running his fingers along the lapels and golden accents, taking note of the beading and embroidery that was carefully crafted for this affair alone. His mother was always ordering new items of clothing to impress the council itself, but Wooyoung wasn't entirely sure if his attire would sway the opinions of those who sought to undermine him. He hadn't yet chosen his council, still stuck with those who had been sworn beneath his father, but even if he had a choice in the matter, he didn't know who to trust. His father's murderer could still be out there, and for all he knew, his execution was next on their list.

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After getting dressed, with some more help from Ji-soo for the final details, Wooyoung watched as she polished his crown, carefully wiping off any debris and smudging from the dark crystals embedded within the dark gold itself. Delicately, Ji-soo lowered the crown onto his head, brushing strands of his hair off to the side and behind his ear, studying her work as she moved around Wooyoung's chair, settling ahead of him with a gentle smile.

"Ready?" She asks.

"As I will ever be." Wooyoung faintly smiles, almost in a way to reassure himself, though he could hardly convince any part of himself that he was the slightest bit okay with the impending conversation.

Ji-soo parts away, gathering the remnants of her maids as she makes her exit, the doors held open by its hinges, revealing the sight of San and Hyunjin both at their post, seemingly wordless, acting as statues to the world around them. Wooyoung smoothes out his jacket once more, wetting his lips as he rises off of his plush chair, feeling each piece of his ensemble weigh down on him in more than just a physical sense.

From the rings adorning his fingers, to the crown atop his head, down to the red and gold jacket covering his shoulders, hiding the silky white button-up just beneath; he finally felt the finality of his title looming over him. It was as if his skies were permanently clouded over, warned with rain and incoming storms ahead, allowing little light to permeate through what felt like a heavier burden than he knew how to carry.

But, he swallows it. He ignores the feeling of everything as he moves towards his door, keeping his steps lightly paced as he moves past the threshold of his chambers, glancing at Hyunjin and San with a polite smile.

"Please accompany me to the hall," he says quietly, giving his guards a curt nod before beginning to walk off, listening to the heavy clanks and shifts of their armor as they followed without a word of hesitance.

Their walk was quick, yet even-paced, trekking through the corridors with a dignified air. Wooyoung finds the stairs, walking down elegantly, careful to plant one foot in front of the other as he descends the red-carpeted covered stairs. A plethora of staff members pass by, bowing their heads respectfully, straying to the sides of the wall, remaining still, allowing Wooyoung the space to move through the halls without being momentarily interrupted.

Before long, he finds himself reaching the throne room doors, which were automatically opened by the guards standing nearby. As the doors part, Wooyoung walks inside, spotting his mother settled in her throne, her hands on the arms of her dignified seat with her crown placed atop her head, looking down at Wooyoung as he moves closer.

"Mother," Wooyoung calls, looking right back at her, completely unafraid. "What is it that you call me for? Is it not too early to be dealing with such pressing matters? Could this not have waited until after I had at least eaten?"

"Quiet yourself," she commands deeply, narrowing her gaze. "Do not speak ill to me, Wooyoung. I am your mother, not your maid."

"I will mind my tongue when you mind your own," Wooyoung shoots back, pausing in his trek as he nears the altar. "Tell me, mother. . . what was so pressing that demanded my attention?"

"The upcoming ball that you are supposed to be hosting," she pauses, clearly waiting for Wooyoung's reaction to any of her words. "You have done nothing in preparation for invites, nor have you even written to any other kingdoms so they can prepare for the journey. We are not the only nation out there, Wooyoung. If you want an alliance with Celestia, Nautica, or Auretica, then you must heed with utter compliance. Why must you fight me on everything I try to do for you?"

Wooyoung swallows his bitter words and instead takes a breath, remaining as calm as he could. "I understand that you wish to see more progress on that front, but I was not under the knowledge that you sought for me to pick and choose who to invite. I thought you might take care of that, considering the ties you hold with each kingdom, lord and lady."

She remains quiet for a moment, thinking in an act of pause, likely trying to form her words in a careful manner to not suede the conversation in a negative connotation. "I see. I can help you, but I expect more from you, Wooyoung. You are the Prince. You are to be making these gestures, extending a royal invite to these other countries that have not been in our good graces for quite some time."

"I understand, but I also ask of you to see my side in all of this. You know how I feel about getting married, mother, especially to a suitor that does not claim the same ideals as my own. Father wanted me to marry well, and how are we to be sure that any of these suitors will do just that?"

"Do not speak of your father here," she warns, her tone suddenly dropping into an icy murmur. "His final words were for you to marry wisely, and that was for the own benefit of this kingdom, not that of your own selfish desires. Do you honestly believe that your father and I married for love all those moons ago?"

Wooyoung pauses, feeling his jaw clench.

"Marrying for love is taboo, my child, and I ask for you to heed my advice instead of acting like a dismissive brat. Marry for power. Marry for fortune. Bring our bonds back with Auretica, Celestia and Nautica so our trade routes may stay clear and open. Do not give in to such selfish desires simply because you believe there is something worth in marrying for love."

"I never spoke ill like that," Wooyoung defends, but his mother instead, rises out of her seat, raising her hand, signaling her wish for silence.

"This kingdom relies on you, Wooyoung. The food, the imports of goods, medicine, wood, gold and stone; all of it depends on the bonds we maintain. Your father was friendly with these other kingdoms, but nothing was ever solidified before he passed. You must forge these bonds with steel, to lock them in writing. We cannot make ourselves look weak, for I fear that our enemy may try to take advantage of the lack of power that exists within Etheria."

"Do you think Fleuria would truly come here and try to slaughter all of us? Unprecedented, without fear of a rebuttal?"

His mother shakes her head, slowly walking down the steps of the altar the thrones sat upon.

"Fleuria has taken advantage of every single enemy it has come across." She steps down to the main floor, adjusting her dress slightly before clasping her hands together, leaning closer as her words begin to convey something darker afoot. "Do not turn a blind eye to Prince Sunghoon simply because he is living across the mountains, well past Auretica. He is conniving, just like his father, and he will grasp at any moment that he can to seize whatever power you withhold."

Wooyoung glances down, feeling his breath hitch as his mother speaks once more.

"You are the son of King Jung Tae," she warns in a near hiss. "Act like it."

With that, she walks away, the sounds of her shoes clicking quietly against the carpet as she beckons her guards to follow in tow. Wooyoung simply turns, chewing on the interior of his cheek, feeling as the weight of his crown and title suddenly become that much more heavy.