ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ ♕ ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

┗━━ 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰'𝓼 𝓟𝓞𝓥 ━━┛

An abrupt knock stirs Wooyoung awake from his bed, sending his eyes to slowly peel open, drifting back into a sense of himself as he clambers into reality. He hadn't slept until late, too glued into the thoughts consuming his inner self as he contemplated almost everything in his path. Before he could even manage to mutter a response, the door slowly peered open, causing him to sit upright, turning his gaze towards his intruder.

"Apologies, your grace," San greets softly, bowing his head, his hand resting on his sword. "I was sent to check on you."

"Check on me?" Wooyoung asks groggily, raising a hand to gently rub his eye. "I was sleeping, San. What trouble could I have gotten into so early?"

"Your mother insisted," San replies, leaving Wooyoung to groan in protest, flopping back down into his pillows.

"Spare me the details, I no longer care," Wooyoung says with a huff, tugging his blankets further upright, all in a motion to hopelessly cover his face. He could hear San chuckling quietly, followed by the door softly closing behind the push of his hand. Wooyoung wanted to stay in bed, locked away in his room, safe from the responsibilities that would try to pull him beneath the tide of worry. He just wanted a moment of levity, to just exist in a simple space, to finally just breathe.

"Come on, my Prince," San coos gently, the clink of his armor shifting with every step as he approaches the bed. "Let us start the morning correctly."

"I wish to be left in bed, I do not care to eat or to make friends with those who seek marriage. I just want to be alone." Wooyoung hides beneath his blanket, barely shifting when he feels San sit down on the edge of his mattress.

"I know that is not true," San contests gently. "Is there something on your mind?"

Wooyoung pulls the blanket down, moving it to rest against his chest. "No, San. There is nothing on my mind."

"Yet, you speak as if there is something harboring within," San teases lightly, raising a brow. Wooyoung arched a brow in return, watching the soft smile that wove its way onto the male's lips, almost in an infuriating, yet utterly handsome smirk.

"Can I just choose to handle it alone? Or must you remain so persistent, Sir San?"

"We are partners, are we not?" San leans closer, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Your problems are my own, remember? Are those not the words you chose to use?"

Wooyoung rolls his eyes. "I suppose you are right. . . for once."

"For once?" San mocks in a tease, almost looking appalled at Wooyoung's choice of words.

"You seem incredulous," Wooyoung says, reaching a hand upright, pressing his index finger into San's cheek, smiling when he watches San smile in turn. "It is not fair of you to be so cheerful this early. I am still quite tired."

"I can always give word for Hyunjin to carry news back to your mother, you know," San suggests, glancing towards the door. "Maybe you could rest more, if that is truly what you wish to do."

"Only if you promise me to stay," Wooyoung murmurs, watching as San's gaze turns to flick back onto his, a question simmering beneath the surface. "I slept horribly last night, San. You just. . . you make me feel safe."

"You know how dangerous it is for me to lay here with you, my Prince," San attests, though he makes no move to lean away when Wooyoung sits upright, cupping his cheek properly with his hand.

"I do not care about the masses," Wooyoung speaks quietly, his voice carrying no real anger, yet somehow firm despite the tender smile glued to the faint edges of his lips. "I care about you. Let us have a moment, lost in the safety of such an early morning. Surely we have but an hour, do we not?"

"You are something else," San says, though his smile belays his interest.

"I am yours," Wooyoung reiterates, raising a brow. "All I wish to have right now is for you to hold me in your arms. Is that so terrible of your Prince?"

"Terrible, no," San replies, leaning closer. "I would never consider anything for you to have done under the mark of terrible."

"Alright, you sweet talker. Give Hyunjin word to carry to my mother. Let him express to her that I have a headache, or something similar, wishing to be tended by no one. I will make an appearance for lunch."

"Will she not question Ji-soo on that matter?"

"Fear not, San. My mother may be intrusive, but she rather accepts my requests for peace."

For a moment, San thinks through the request before he finally relents, giving a curt nod as he rises from the bed. "Alright, your grace. I will seek to enact your lie. But stay here, I shall return in a moment."

"San," Wooyoung calls out, reaching to catch San's gloved hand before he could move too far away. The male raises a brow, the gleam from the nearby window shimmering through his red locks of hair as he turns, causing a faint blush to creep onto Wooyoung's cheeks.

Wooyoung pulls him closer by the hand, using his other hand to gently guide him by the jaw, colliding their lips together in a slow, gentle kiss.

"You best come back and not lie to your Prince," Wooyoung breathes out, his breath warm against San's lips the moment they part away.

"I would never," San whispers back, his eyes opening just enough to look at Wooyoung from beneath his lashes. "I will return in just a moment. Stay put, my Prince."

Wooyoung leans away, chewing on his lower lip as he watches San saunter away, trekking towards the door and just barely peeking outdoors, muttering something that he could barely make out. He knew Hyunjin and Mingi were on duty right now, which made the transition of duty that much easier. He waits patiently, standing by his bed as San continues to speak with Hyunjin before he eventually closes the door, turning on his heel.

"Alright," San says, moving his hands to slide his gloves off. "I am all yours, my Prince."

"Armor off," Wooyoung insists, placing a hand on his hip. "I just wish for you to become a person for a moment, away from your duties and responsibilities."

"As you wish," San says in a lilt, his hands moving towards his buckles and straps, un-fascening every single strap as he slowly begins to dismantle his chest plate.

"You should call for Neukdae," Wooyoung muses, quipping a brow. "Sapphire is hiding around here somewhere, you know."

"Hyunjin is already carrying out a favor for me," San begins, lifting the chestplate over his head, holding it steadily with his arm, now revealing the tightly fitted shirt that lay beneath. "Do you really believe that he would carry out another?"

"I can ask." Wooyoung begins to walk towards his door, unable to miss the smirk that raises to San's lips. "There is nothing wrong with a simple ask from their Prince."

"You are impossible, my Prince."

"Impossible?" Wooyoung retorts playfully, strolling past with a slight bounce to his step. He turns, glancing over his shoulder as he meets San's gaze. "I would rather care to think that I am but an innocent, witty Prince, am I not?"

"You are something special, that I will not deny," San returns, moving to set down the pieces of his armor elsewhere, somewhere near the grand, velvet couch. Wooyoung rolls his eyes, smirking all the while, strolling towards his door as his hand reaches out to grace the golden handle.

Wooyoung opens the door, peering outside, watching as Mingi turns over his shoulder to meet the Prince's gaze.

"Mingi'ah?" Wooyoung chimes cheerfully.

"Yes, your grace?"

"May I be so selfish to ask for you to fetch Neukdae from the Knight's quarters? I know Hyunjin is carrying out a duty, but do not worry about abandoning your post but for a moment."

"Are you sure, my Prince? What of your mother–?"

"I will be alright, Sir Mingi. You know of what secret we maintain within the safety of my quarters; I am safe. I am protected. Please, just carry out my ask."

"At once, your grace," Mingi says, nearly without hesitation. He bows his head before he turns, striding down the hall with an attentiveness that had always been true to his demeanor. Wooyoung smiles, almost to himself, closing the door as he encloses himself back into his private sanctum with San, turning to see that San was removing the final layer of his armor.

"Who knew you could look so incredibly devouring?" Wooyoung muses, unable to hide the amusement glued into his hues. San glances up, a sparkle gleaming in his eyes as he hastily adjusted his belt, now left in a pair of trousers and a well-worn, tight under shirt.

"You have seen me like this many times before," San quips, bending down at his waist to remove his shoes.

"But that never has once changed my opinion of you," Wooyoung admits, slowly beginning to walk over. "You have become everything to me in just a short time, San. To me, everytime we share in something quiet, just like this, it reminds me of just how much I admire you."

San's eyes shimmered with something new, alight with a realization that Wooyoung hadn't seen before. He was calm, maybe at peace with a new ideal that he hadn't fully grasped before. Wooyoung smiled softly, approaching with tentative steps, reaching his hands out in front of him, feeling as San took a hold of his hands softly.

"I mean it," Wooyoung expresses, tilting his head to the left lightly. "Every word. Every action."

"That will forever mean more than I can say, my Prince."

"Will you ever stop calling me my Prince?" Wooyoung says teasingly, smiling still, arching a brow.

"A trained behavior," San admits, pulling Wooyoung closer. "I wish I were to refer to you differently, but it would be frowned upon."

"Then call me something in private; something meant just for the two of us," Wooyoung murmurs, tilting his head back slightly, accounting for the space now occupied by San as their lips begin to brush up against one another, warmed by the other's breaths.

"What shall I call such a lovely Prince?" San asks, keeping his tone low and husky, bringing a smile to Wooyoung's lips.

"Anything my Knight desires," Wooyoung mutters back, feeling as San's hand trail from his waist and up his sides, thumbs smoothing circles against the fabric of his shirt before a hand rises to cradle the back of his neck, lingering even closer, nearly an insufferable inch away.

"How about my heart?" San says, earning a looming flush that immediately colored the sill of Wooyoung's cheeks. "That is what you are to me, Wooyoung. You are my heart."

Wooyoung looks up, crossing paths with San's gaze, taking a moment to truly study the male ahead of him. His eyes, always shone with genuine affection, laden in a deep umber hue, glimmered with something unspoken, something that Wooyoung knew they both had been teetering around for weeks on end. I love you. Both unspoken and feared, Wooyoung knew just based upon a pure glance that they simply mirrored the same emotions, yet remained silent because of how terrified they both were because of unprecedented consequences. Wooyoung didn't know what to expect, nor was he entirely sure of how to control these strengthening emotions, but as he stood here and looked at San, he knew the words would simply tumble off of his tongue eventually, unable to be kept like a caged animal.

Instead, he forces himself to silence, leaning closer, pressing a deepening kiss to his lips, keeping their connection alive with the spark of a few shared breaths and a warm, languid press of lips against lips. Wooyoung's hand raises to cup San's jaw, aching to have him closer, to feel and lose himself in the depth of it all, only to be interrupted by a knock at his bedroom door.

Parting away, Wooyoung turns amply on his heel, watching as Mingyu strolls in, a small smile gracing his lips as he studies the scene ahead of him.

"Getting into mischief, are we?" He greets, holding the door open for a second, the sudden sound of nails clicking against the floor, stirring Wooyoung's attention downward, only to catch sight of a familiar canine friend, one of which he had missed dearly.

"Us? Mischief? Never," San says teasingly, observing the entire scene with a smile on his face.

"Oh, my handsome boy," Wooyoung coos, moving down to crouch, his hands reaching out to gently caress the canine's head, running his fingers through his ebony fur. "How I have missed you."

Neukdae, a rather large German Shepherd with black feathering and longer tendrils of hair, looked up at Wooyoung, moving closer to try and lick the sides of the male's face. Wooyoung giggles quietly, pretending to kiss Neukdae back with a similar grace of affection.

"Be careful," Mingyu chides playfully, keeping his voice low. "The Queen is quite unlike herself this morning. I understand that the both of you are entertaining. . . this, however, I ask of you to be mindful."

"We are always careful, Mingyu," Wooyoung mutters, standing upright, allowing his hands to fall away from Neukdae as the canine strolls over to San, settling down near his feet. "I appreciate your kindness in words I cannot simply express in mere words. Your protectiveness and loyalty speak volumes to your character, and for that, I am utterly grateful."

Mingyu, usually hardened and expressionless, softens himself to allow the faint trace of a smile to curl against his lips. "I will be at my post, right outside. Remember the warnings."

"Always, Sir Mingyu." Wooyoung smiles as he steps closer, raising his hand to gently rest upon Mingyu's armored shoulder. "Thank you. I mean it; genuinely."

"I too, was once in love, you know," Mingyu says quietly, turning on his heel as he moves towards the door. Wooyoung raises a brow, listening carefully, following Mingyu towards the door.

"What happened, if I may ask?"

"He lies in a grave, just north of here. Jeon Wonwoo, of a noble house well past the confines of Etheria. His parents were openly against same-sex relations, and yet he still chose me out of everyone who threw themselves towards him."

Wooyoung pauses, watching as Mingyu reaches for the door handle. "Have you not expressed to me before that you were once of noble blood? Yet, you chose to serve in the brigade?"

"The life I once held, well before you knew of me, was lost the moment the life drained from his eyes." Mingyu opens the door, pausing, his eyes gracing the back of Hyunjin's armor as he stands at his post, uninterested in the likes of their conversation.

Realization stumbles back into Wooyoung's core, finally understanding the meaning of why Mingyu truly watched over him so dutifully, so thoroughly. It wasn't out of pure loyalty to the crown, but rather as a hope that he could prevent Wooyoung from falling into his own mistakes, especially after learning about his affair with San.

"Do not walk on the same path as I have, your grace," Mingyu chides, wetting his lips, turning to gaze at Wooyoung briefly before looking away once more. "Love is a dangerous thing, and yet, the power of it can become the most powerful emotion one can harbor. Cherish it, embrace it. You never quite realize what you withhold until you can no longer grasp it."

A bittersweet smile crawls onto Wooyoung's lips, causing him to nod, dismantling the tears that surged forth, nearly sinking over his lashes. Mingyu steps through the threshold, wordless and completely stoic, his usual facade hazing over whatever emotions dared to leak over the impasse.

Wooyoung wants to say more, but he rather chooses to remain silent, knowing that Mingyu understood the silence more than anything else. There was an acknowledgement within their wordless void, a complete understanding that always seemed to mend wounds that Wooyoung hadn't even known existed. Mingyu was always present and sincere, brutally honest, and at times, a bit more realistic than Wooyoung could've ever asked for. He was a key part of his every day, and even having this shred of privacy with San all with the guidance of Mingyu, only wove his gratitude deeper.

Closing the door, Wooyoung turns, finding San settled on his bed, Neukdae laying elegantly at the foot of it, his ears perked forwards, his eyes trailing Wooyoung's every movement. Curious, Wooyoung moves into his space on the opposite side of the room, scanning the cushions and luxurious furniture, only to see the familiar contours of a leopard-spotted bengal cat, royally resting against a lush cushion, purring contently the moment her eyes blinked awake to spot Wooyoung approaching.

Gently, Wooyoung runs his fingers through the cat's luscious fur, extending from the top of her head and down the back of her neck, all the way down her spine. She arches her back, greeting Wooyoung's touch with a purr, stretching out as if she had been sleeping the entire morning away. With a familiar touch, Wooyoung picks up the cat, entrapping her safely within the hold of his arms, scratching her chin and cheeks as he carries her towards the bed, pointing with his finger as he approaches.

"Look, Sapphire," he coos quietly, his eyes flicking back down to the curious cat. "Neukdae came to cuddle with you."

San raises his brows, an amused smile crossing over his features as he reaches a hand out, greeting the cat with a soft pet against her head. Wooyoung gently flips her around in his arms, setting her down on the bed next to the calm canine, watching as she instinctively curls up near him, rubbing her head against his shoulder with a content purr.

"I told you that she missed him," Wooyoung chides, smirking the moment he makes eye contact with San.

"I know you have," San says as he scoots backwards, adjusting to make room for Wooyoung to settle in bed, their pets content at the foot of the mattress, unmoving and completely used to this familiar routine.

Wooyoung slides into bed, carefully maneuvering the comforter and pillows as he makes himself comfortable, feeling as San tugs him closer, wrapping an arm around Wooyoung to only draw him nearer. Wooyoung smiles, leaning against his pillow, embracing the warmth shared not only from the blankets, but from San's shared proximity.

Wooyoung raises a hand, gently drawing shapes against San's chest. San hums warmly, lingering closer, pressing a kiss to Wooyoung's forehead in a featherlight press, connecting them deeper into their entwined moment.

"This is all I could ever wish for," Wooyoung murmurs, letting his eyes flutter shut. "You have become the half of me I do not wish to live without."

"I will remain right here," San replies, his tone low and husky. "You are the one safe space I never knew I needed."

"I share in that sentiment, Sannie," Wooyoung mutters, his hand stilling, drawing a heart on San's chest after a moment.

The timing felt right. The words were there, settled on the edge of his tongue, dancing with the threat of possibilities that he wasn't sure if he would ever be prepared to face. But, the fear, the rapture of Mingyu's words, brings a sudden nausea to take over the place where his words once lay. He swallows it all, tightening his jaw, choosing to remain close, yet deepening his breaths, almost afraid that if he were to open his eyes, the words would spill out like vomit.

He wanted their words to be shared at a time more meaningful than this. To express just how cherished and loved San truly was, even despite all of the ties threatening to pull them apart. Wooyoung wanted nothing more than to envision a future with San, one where they shared a crown, settled on thrones together, ruling over all of Etheria with entwined hands. But, that was a dream, a mere figment of reality that he knew would never come. San wasn't meant for a life of nobility; he wished to be stationed as he was, to be placed as a Knight and to fight for the kingdom he was sworn to.

But, even as he laid there, holding on to San, keeping him close, listening as the male's breaths deepened and even out, he felt his resolve grow even stronger, more than it ever had.

He would tell San how he felt before the wedding. He had to. He would keep holding on to this for as long as he could, no matter the cost of his own afflictions.

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In the cast of the afternoon, Wooyoung finds himself settled in a leather saddle, holding the reins delicately with one hand while the other rests on his thigh, listening to the world around him transcend into a bout of tranquility. Reign, his devious mare, was walking with a nice pace next to a horse she hadn't met before, though seemed to get along with. Cyprus, a deep bay stallion, walked with an elegance that was likely taught to him, carrying the colors of his kingdom with a sense of pride. Purple and gold, a lovely but deep contrast to the gallant colors of crimson that Wooyoung had always wore, gave way to a more lux aura, and yet he finds himself questioning why Celestia had chosen such colors, given the area they chose to settle within.

Jisung was carrying himself with a shyness that seemed to be a habit for him. He was quiet, though contemplative, taking in the scenery of the forest as they delved deeper into the grounds just outside of Etheria's walls. Wooyoung sat quietly, patiently; listening to every shift of his saddle atop his steed, counting the steps and listening to the breeze pass through, carrying warmth and salt from the sea.

Behind them, Minho and San followed atop their mounts, quietly and at a fair distance away, allowing for momentary privacy, giving Wooyoung some sort of confidence to strike up a conversation with the shy Prince.

"Tell me, Jisung," Wooyoung begins quietly. "What is Celestia like? I have heard stories, but I imagine they cannot do it true justice."

Jisung's eyes light up, almost in a cast of joy as he ponders the question, keeping his voice quiet, yet heard nonetheless.

"It is quite tranquil, your grace," Jisung comments, a soft smile gracing his lips. "Being surrounded by the forest, seeing no end to your horizon, listening to the birds and feeling almost as if you had been swallowed whole by nature itself; it is everything I could have ever asked for. It feels freeing, almost as if I can move into a different realm, far away from the likes of my responsibilities and duties that come with carrying my crown."

"Do you ride often, then?"

"Oh, plenty," Jisung says, turning his head to glance at Wooyoung. "Cyprus loves the forest just as much as I do, so we spend as much time outdoors as we can manage, even amongst the rain."

"It must be beautiful there, truly," Wooyoung says, tilting his head, trying to imagine a castle completely surrounded in layers of ivy and dense forest. "All I have ever known are these lands, laden with farmland and fisheries. I have not yet seen differently."

"Maybe there lay a future for us, one where I could take you to visit my home country, to experience the truth of Celestia in all of her glory," Jisung attests, earning a smile from Wooyoung.

"Maybe so," Wooyoung agrees, only partially. "We will just have to see."

"Where is this spot you are leading us to, your grace?"

"It is the perfect picnic spot," Wooyoung says with a gleam in his eyes, turning to glance at Jisung as the male smiles back at him. "The lake is just up ahead, cast about with nature that I had always found to be beautiful. Surely, it is nothing like Celestia, but I hope the scenery brings you some sort of comfort."

"My gratitude knows no bounds, your grace." Jisung shifts slightly in his saddle before settling into a harmonic quiet, only slightly disturbed by the sound of the horses' hooves and shifting leather, carrying them through the dirt trail that wove its way towards a secluded lake.

Wooyoung adores this lake, for more reasons than one. Given that this was the same lake he had taken San to just days prior makes his heart swell with memories, allowing a slight flush to rise onto his cheeks. They had been so close then, so honest and intimate, reminding Wooyoung of just how much he truly adored privacy like that. There was no one else around; just the pair of them, vulnerable beneath the haze of the moon, stealing away one another's breaths, almost as if they needed to feast upon one another for survival.

As they reached the spot just minutes later, Wooyoung carefully dismounts his horse, giving her a gentle pat on her neck before handing his reins off to San, taking a moment to watch as he ties Byeol off to a tree with Reign in company, all of which made Wooyoung's heart blur with adoration. Minho tended to Jisung's horse, Cyprus, tying the stallion next to his own, a dusty stallion by the name of Soonie.

Wooyoung waits as he watches San for a moment longer, rustling about in his saddle bags until he pulls free a blanket, all while Minho gathers the food and other supplies from his own equipment off of Soonie's back.

"It is quite peaceful," Jisung says, stepping closer to Wooyoung, though he was facing the glimmering lake, his hands clasped behind his back. Wooyoung turns, looking at the same view as Jisung was, smiling softly to himself as he nods.

"It always has been. I used to come here a lot, especially when I was young and clueless, seeking answers here even if I knew of them myself." Wooyoung listens as San and Minho set up the small blanket and food items, allowing the Prince and his consort to converse freely, even if Wooyoung ached to ease the burden from his Knight's shoulders. "I knew what was asked of me, even from such a young age, but somehow, I thought that this lake would give me the confidence to deny it all."

"You really think that there would be a different path for you if you were to deny the throne?" Jisung asks, almost in a manner of shock, though Wooyoung could tell that he was being genuine, nothing else.

"I cannot know, simply because I did not wish to go through with it," Wooyoung replies, keeping his tone quiet. "After my father passed, I felt as if I were to bear no other choice. If my father had another son, maybe even a daughter, perhaps I could have swayed the decision in some manner, but. . . alas. Here I am."

"Tell me," Jisung begins. "Was it ever a thought to you that you would ever wish to flee from the confines of your castle? To just be free in a world that felt to be rather endless?"

Wooyoung glances at Jisung, shifting the weight between his feet before he answers, allowing a breath to settle his stomach. "I seek refuge all the time, in many forms, really, but the one way I wish to seek it most is deemed inappropriate and rather frowned upon."

Jisung glances back, his expression softening, a likely tale of understanding unraveling in the few inches between them.

"We all feel things, do we not? We all succumb to the pressures of a world that seeks too much of us, and we all feel the pressures from our peers to do what is destined of us. Yet, I feel as if I am tethered to this title, to this crown, to be the one thing I truly do not wish to be simply because I am the end of my father's line. I will bear no children, that much was clear in the discussion for the throne; and yet, I still gain no choice in who I bed."

"We all must entertain duties we rather ignore," Jisung attests, though his tone was light. "It is not in my ventures to seek a hand in marriage, as I much rather would take my time in studying nature and everything around me, to write and create poetry, to ride to the farthest hills and collect samples of anything and everything. Yet, I am here, vying for your hand, praying that you may understand my hesitance in simply offering it."

"I understand, more than I care to admit," Wooyoung replies smoothly. "But I am here, too. We are not in this alone, Jisung."

For a moment, Wooyoung watches as Jisung nods, turning away to face the lake again, a deep breath rolling through his lungs silently. He knew this was hard, not just individually, but together, as two people who hadn't known one another before and were now forced to interact, even if they didn't wish to. Wooyoung liked Jisung enough, that wasn't the issue. He could sense the male's hesitation, but he could also feel the longing for freedom, to be unchained from his destiny bestowed onto him by his parents. Wooyoung could empathize, overly so, wondering if he too would ever be free of his own tribulations.

Eventually, the pair guide themselves onto the blanket, sharing in a light snack and a few harmless sips of tea. Jisung was quiet, as he always seemed to be, leaving Wooyoung alone with his thoughts as he continued to peer over his shoulder, watching as San tended to their horses with gentle care. San had always loved Byeol, but the tenderness he had shown to Reign also, who wasn't always exactly kind in return, made Wooyoung's heart swell even more so.

Time and time again has Wooyoung watched Jisung steal a glance at Minho, a fleeting moment that he brushed off as pure curiosity. Though, he'll admit, he was the same way when he first laid eyes upon San all those moons ago.

"Tell me, your grace," Jisung begins, settling closer, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Are all of your guards chosen simply for their looks?"

Wooyoung chuckles, a bit caught off-guard, though he nods. "Partially. But their skill remains at the highest mark of satisfaction. Why do you ask?"

"The guards at my castle are all old, quiet and stern. Nothing like the two that have accompanied us on this trip."

Wooyoung hums, nodding his head. "I suppose they're all a bit. . . young to be royal guards."

"Deftly handsome too, may I add," Jisung quips, earning a smile from Wooyoung in turn.

"It does help on the days that run a bit more lonely than others," Wooyoung says. "Maybe I am a bit foolish to entertain such an interest, but I would become a liar if I were to admit otherwise."

"I do not fault you for it," Jisung says, peeking over his shoulder, gazing at Minho once more. "You do have a keen eye, your grace."

Wooyoung, too, glances behind them, watching San, smiling softly the moment the male's eyes turn to meet his own, sending a warmth to shoot through his veins like a wildfire.

"I do," Wooyoung admits breathily. "That I do."